Month: January 2012 (page 1 of 2)

Lucy speaks cat, apparently. That’s the only way I can explain where she heard that word.

I’d just spent ten minutes talking Lucy out from under her bed – she’d called Julia a dumbass – when I came downstairs and saw this.

On the puzzle on the table

Oh, hi Picasso.

Smug

So nice to see you on my table.

What?

“What? You want me to move?”

Cute, right?

“Really?”

Even cuter...

“Are you sure?”

Whatever

“Alright. I’ll get up. Dumbass.”

Geez, what a potty mouth.

Lucy Gleams and Glows

I’ve been looking pretty old and haggard, lately, and I made mention of it while combing Lucy’s hair after bath time recently. And so, she sang me the most heart-felt and sincere version of that song Rapunzel sings in Tangled to make her hair glow.

“Do you feel better?” she asked.

I gave her a smile. “I do.”

She leaned in close and whispered, “I think my hair might be magic, too.”

“I think you’re right. Will you sing that again?”

She did.


Definitely magic.

This is why I don’t get to work out*

Guess where this penny has been?

Phoebe's Penny

If you guessed, “on a wild ride through Phoebe’s digestive system,” you win! (I won’t make you look at the penny-in-the-poop discovery photos.)

I know. You’re shaking your head at me. Leslie, you understand that baby-proofing your house includes keeping small items like this picked up and put away so tiny hands can’t get them, don’t you? How did this happen? Well, I’ll tell you: It was my mother’s fault. No. No! I’m kidding!!! (Mom, I’m mostly kidding.) It was Julia and Lucy’s fault.

My mom was keeping an eye on the girls while I was “working out” in the basement. They were playing Store and feeling uninspired by their wooden play money’s lack of authenticity and so they broke open their bank to use the real stuff. My mother told them not to do it. She told them to put the money away. They did not listen and Phoebe had an Abe Lincoln snack.

*Generally, I “work out” during nap time or when Dave is home, but he’s currently in the middle of a seventeen day work bender, which means he’s only home for about 8 hours every four days and during that time, he’s sleeping or going to softball meetings or bringing kids to my Kindermusik class which is why my mom was watching the girls. So, technically, I guess it’s Dave’s fault. I also blame fitness.

In Lucy’s mind, there is but one track.

Scene: Living Room. Julia and Lucy have wandered in having grown tired of their mother’s insistence that “waffles don’t magically appear simply because you want them” and “these things take time” and “just give me time to make them for Pete’s sake! YES, the waffle iron is hot! DO NOT TOUCH IT! Alright, out of the kitchen!” Grandpa is sitting in a chair by the fireplace.

Lucy: “Grandpa, I’m hungry. Can YOU get me waffles?”

Grandpa: “Aw, honey.” [He laughs and hugs Lucy.]

Lucy: “Grandpa?” [She pats him gently.] “I don’t really see how this is helping.”

The Winter of Bee’s Discontent

We got enough snow to cancel school on Friday and dance classes on Saturday and, of course, to play in, too.

Julia playing in the snow.

There’s Julia playing in the snow.

Lucy eating the snow.

There’s Lucy eating the snow.

Phoebe hating the snow.

And there’s Phoebe, hating the snow.

Don’t worry. Julia and Lucy got her to grin, eventually.

Is that a smile?

And after those teeth finally came through Sunday morning, she was much more cheerful.


See? We made it through.

The Tortured Life of Bee

Phoebe is getting some new teeth and it’s turned her into a crusty-eyed, snotty-nosed, biting, kicking yell machine who wants to be near me and no one but me at all times so I can know her pain. Nothing seems to make her feel better than faking me out by pretending she wants to nurse, then gripping my breast with her razorclaw fingers and holding on for dear life with her jaws, all the while kicking, kicking, kicking. Bright side? My shredded nipple plugs up her mouth hole so she isn’t screaming! Because the screaming? Oh, God help us, THE SCREAMING.

I’d been giving her homeopathic teething drops until last night when she slapped them away like they were an insult, raked at her face and made a sound so wretched it stopped the heart of every small mammal within a twenty mile radius. Probably. And so, I finally gave her some real medicine which I should have recorded because it could have been a commercial for Motrin. She literally turned from a snarling, drooling monster-child into a sweet, squishy-cheeked baby doll. She rubbed her eyes and collapsed into a full four hours of true and actual rest. After I wrestled with the guilt of having let her labor through raw, throbbing, gut-wrenching hurt when all the while relief had been sitting in my medicine cabinet (and had a brief she’s-really-truly-finally-asleep dance party), I slept almost a whole two hours before she was up to mangle my milks again.

I have never been more thankful for a snow day than today. Also, ibuprofen.

Dieting makes everything so complicated.

I’m not shoplifting
as I linger in the aisle.
I’m checking labels.

No thanks, manager.
No cart for me. I can’t buy
what I can’t carry.

Yes, I realize
this armload of Diet Coke
looks really heavy.

Fifty calories.
Per serving? That sounds great! But,
ten servings per pack.

Okay, we all know
that I’d eat the whole pack, right?
Don’t make me do math.

How long would I need
to do the elliptical
to have this Snickers?

Gah! Alright. I’ll get
sugar-free gum. And maybe,
a Cadbury Egg.

Yes. I’ll get the egg.
Wait, how many calories?
No, I won’t. Wait. Yes.

No, I don’t need help.
Yes, I’m finding everything.
Okay, I’ll leave now.

This is a blackout.

Today, many websites are dark in protest to stop two bills before Congress, known as the Protect IP Act (PIPA) in the Senate and the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) in the House. I agree that online piracy is a bad thing and we should stop it. I don’t think either of these bills will do that. I’m concerned that what they would do is take away some of my favorite parts of the internet, especially this part I’m using right now. So, I encourage you to learn more about this. And if you’re inspired to, let Congress (if you’re in the U.S.) or the State Department (if you’re outside the U.S.) know how you feel.

You can learn more about the strikes here. And I think this video is worth watching.

She asked, “How’s it going?”

“Rough,” I said.

1. Dave lost 7 pounds last week. I did not. This is completely unfair considering I’ve eaten less than my calorie goal each day than he has and I’ve worked out more! Clearly the universe wants him to get skinny, but not me.

2. And do you realize how hard it is to cook food that you cannot eat? I guess chefs do that all the time. I could never be a chef. Although I guess I’m already like one, except I’m not paid or very good at it. I’m also very hungry.

3. I’m tired, too. Julia couldn’t get to sleep last night because she had a cough, so I ran out to the store to grab some cough medicine, in my pajamas to save time, but she was fast asleep when I got home, so TIME WASTED.

4. I should have gotten diaper rash cream while I was out because Phoebe woke up screaming in the night with a mega-poop – which was weird because that rarely happens at night – and a sore bum. I couldn’t find the A&D ointment ANYWHERE. So, this morning I stopped at the store after dropping Julia off at school, again in my pajamas because I didn’t get up early enough to get out of them, and the clerk from last night rang up my order.

5. I also ran into one of Julia’s friend’s parents. And a man who dropped his jaw and shook his head at me. I’m not sure if it was my pajamas or my lack of hygiene that was so shocking. Or perhaps my not-7-pound-losing butt.

And then, I realized she didn’t really want to know how it was going. Still, I told her about the bottle of baby powder Lucy unloaded on her bedroom because you can’t stop an avalanche as it races down the hill, Tracy Turnblad.

This is how we do a long weekend.

Puzzle time!

That’s a 1,000 piece puzzle and it’s nearly complete!

If you’re not impressed, you should consider the added challenge we face of assembling it before Phoebe eats the pieces. She hasn’t actually digested any, at least we don’t think she has. Three of them have definitely been chewed and a handful took a dip in her milk. If we get down to the end and some are missing, well, I don’t know. Are puzzle pieces digestible? Would they come out like they went in?

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