Melmo

As I mentioned, Annie loves Elmo/Melmo. I have no idea why. I mean, I know why, but I don't know how this love affair became what it is today. She doesn't even really like him on TV, but if you see anything Melmo-related in the store, fuhgheddit. To Elmo's credit, he did get her to eat an entire tray of veggies because his image was on the box. Which might have sparked a notion for me to put Melmo stickers on every box of food she won't eat. I'll keep you posted.

When we attended a halloween party last weekend with a balloon animal dude, I thought it would be fun to get her a balloon elmo. It was cute right up until I realized I was the only adult in line with a bunch of children. A bunch of children that were stinking line-cutters. And NOTHING will make you feel like a bigger loser than calling a 5 year old out for cutting in line for the balloon animals. 

So I waited. 

And waited.

And watched 100 little mermaid balloon shapes get made. 

And watched Annie start to lose her mind from exhaustion and Rick question my sanity as I stood in this line.

Finally I was pushed to the brink. I was ONE KID AWAY from the front of the line when a little boy  proclaims "I am getting FREE FINGS (three things)!" as he wedges himself between me and my balloon maker. 

I'd like to think I handled this perfectly, but I did not. I told the kid I was next in line and he could get his free fings after I got my Melmo. He then called his mother over. She told me "It's fine if you go before him". No joke, lady! I have been standing here since Easter!

But I smiled and said I appreciated it. And I got to order the Elmo. Annie was in full melt-down mode once I finally secured the prized possession. 

She took one look.

"Melmo...wuf ooo"

(Elmo...love you)

I'd say that was worth it.

Epilogue: perhaps I should have spent some of my time in line thinking about how a teething toddler will show affection to her favorite character...let's just say I don't think things will end well for this Melmo.

The State of the Blog

Have you ever gone a really long time between visits to the dentist? And then you keep putting it off because it's been so long and you know there's lots they are going to have to do in there?

That's kind of how I feel about the blog these days. Major things happen like weddings (HI BRANDON and JORDAN!), more weddings (HI LIZA AND DAVID!), trips, birthdays, outings, and I fell behind on all of them. So when I want to rant about bad service or something equally trivial, I hesitate because I can't post about something stupid when all this other important stuff has gone on that I never mentioned.

So I end up posting none of it.

Thankfully I have somehow kept up with the letters to Annie, which is probably only motivated by guilt since she still has no baby book. It wouldn't even be a baby book at this time, would it? When do you stop with the baby books and just call it an album?

And then I tell myself that if anyone is keeping score on this blog (other than yours truly), then they probably need to take up knitting, painting, or, perhaps, blogging. And most of the people that read this blog were at the big events, so it's not like they need me to recap (although some might actually need this service, for various reasons).

I have approximately 1000 photos I need to go through from the past 6 weeks. So maybe some of the good stuff will eventually make it in here. But hell, my father built A STADIUM and that didn't make it in here, so perhaps my thoughts on shellac manicures (life changing!) can be put on the back burner.

So don't count me out just yet. It's not that there's nothing fun happening. It's that there's too much fun happening and not enough time to blog about it. Which I guess is not a horrible problem to have.

SOOO BIG-17 Months

Dear Annie,

You are almost a week into being 17 months old. All of a sudden time has really started to fly. Sure, the first year went by fast, but the past few months are a blur. I think it's because you are so active and so fun. We go on new outings almost every weekend and I braved a solo trip to take you to your first movie last week.

I think you thought I was walking away from you, resulting in the world's most pathetic face here.  Trust me, you were excited (once you realized you weren't being abandoned at the movies).

Hotel Transylvania was a hit. At least the first hour was a hit. Then we ran out of crackers and you started saying "up peesh" repeatedly. I will likely never know how that movie ends. I think I will survive. 

You seemed to enjoy it though. You didn't get scared at the "scary" parts and seemed to like all the color and sound. I wasn't so brave to release you from your stroller and all those reading this should know it was a "Mommy Matinee" so there was no real fear of you disturbing everyone (all 4 other people) in the theater. I will call this a success.

You are quite the little entertainer. We have noticed that you are an excellent mimic and I have heard you hum along to songs and parrot my voice on more than one occasion. Maybe not always exactly what I said, but how I said it. It's very interesting to see/hear. I attribute it to your Dad playing music for you since the day you were born (and before). 

You love choo-choos and Elmo, though you have never really watched Sesame Street. There's something about that little red guy that makes your heart melt. You like to call him "Melmo". You talk quite a bit and know all the names of everyone in our immediate family, though you don't say them all with much regularity, other than your beloved cousin Parker. Or "Dar-der".

You love playing with the big kids, even if it means kickballs whizzing by your head. No risk is too great if they let you play along. 

They even let you sit at the big kid's table, which made my heart swell so big it felt like it was going to bust.

"What? Yeah, sure. I do this all the time. High chairs are for babies!"

You couldn't have been more excited, but played it cool and acted like you have sat in a regular chair at the table 100s of times.

I will save your eating habits for another post, because there's lots to discuss there. At last unofficial weigh-in (you find the scale in the bathroom tons of fun with its clicky noise and dangerously tippy surface and sharp edges) you were 27.5 pounds. You still wear size 4 diapers and most of your 18-24 month shirts are too short. You are now taking 1 nap a day on most days and still are sleeping 12 hours a night. I have NO IDEA how many teeth you have in there. I think it's somewhere between 10 and 45. 

I do know there are some big ones in the back that gave you fits for a few days.

Thirty years from now I want to remember how you love to play with your toes when you are sleepy, how you are so determined to feed yourself with a fork/spoon-but usually give up and go with the hands, how you have a love/hate relationship with stickers, how you insist on "tasting" every crayon before deciding on a color to use (seriously, those things better really be non-toxic), how you love to run through my legs, how by the end of each day my jeans have sticky Annie hand marks around the thighs from your various demands, how no matter how many times I do it, you always think it's really funny when I say "BOO!" at you, how you always know it's time to go to bed when I start saying our nighttime prayer and you will lay your head down on my shoulder, how you have learned to climb up on just about every piece of furniture in the house but haven't mastered the getting down part (if you ever hear repeated "uh-oh"s from Annie, know it's serious), how you started to have your own sense of fashion and how that both makes me very proud and very scared. 

I want to remember it all. I love you so much, sweet girl, 

Mom

Repurposed

Rick brings home some crazy things from work, but every once in a while, he brings home something awesome. The other day, it was a homemade chocolate cake. Now, though the wedding is behind us and I managed to fit into my dress, I am still trying to watch the sugar intake. So after sampling the cake, I wanted it out of the house.

Parker's ELEVENTH birthday (impossible) party was last night, and we saw this as an opportunity to unload this cake. I became concerned that no one would want to eat a cake that already been dipped into, so I took advantage of some candy corns (deftly removed from another cake), and voila!

Vampire Packman Cake, thank God it is Halloween season

And the kids loved it. I figured the City Museum would be very proud of my re-use of this wonderful cake. It also really showcases what lengths I will go to to avoid baking.

Happy Birthday, Parker!

6 years

Rick and I have been married for 6 years now, as of this past Sunday. This is the first year we have actually spent our Anniversary in town. For the first five, we would pick a destination and head out for a few days of fun in the sun...or rain in Seattle. It would always seem like summer when we left and then, in the span of a few short days, we would return to full-blown fall; sometimes even winter.

This year we stayed home and got our "fall on" and got to enjoy what is our favorite season, though we seem to abandon it at its height every year. We went pumpking picking, hay riding, corn mazing. We ate pancake breakfasts and looked at leaves and enjoyed the fall colors. It was an entirely different type of anniversary weekend, but one that seems to be more representative of where our lives are these days and the anniversaries to come.

This year, it was more of a celebration of our family. I was constantly reminded how thankful I am for my parents and my siblings, and my new siblings to be (FOUR DAYS, DAVID!). But mostly, I am thankful for my wonderful husband. He is truly my perfect mate, as my parents prayed for throughout my youth. I am constantly amazed by his generosity and kindness. Not to mention the fact that he's the best Dad ever and can make me laugh harder than anyone I know with his particular brand of humor.

Thank you, Sweet Ricker, for picking me to be your wife. Though I am not a fan of group sports, I am lucky to be on your team.

If the Shoe Fits

Six weeks ago Annie's shoe size had jumped from a 4 to a 5 overnight. Since I figured we would be at a 5 for a while, I went ahead and purchased some fancy black patent leather shoes (for wedding season, natch) and some sneakers (is that what you call them? I call mine running shoes, which seems odd for a baby, but I guess since all she does is run, it is appropriate). When we got home I noticed the running shoes were actually a size 6 in a size 5 box, but since they seemed to fit and she could walk in them, I decided not to go all Customer Service Nightmare or the poor people at Laurie's Shoes.

As we are assembling our wardrobe for the big wedding weekend, I went to have Annie try on her dress shoes. To my dismay, and hers, they no longer fit. I also noticed that her sandals were a bit snug, so we headed off to Laurie's Shoes again to get some more winter appropriate footwear.

Imagine my shock when after wrangling Annie's squirmy chubby foot into the measuruing device, I was informed that she is now a 6.5. A full size and a half in 6 weeks. New boots were purchased and I was advised to just buy new dress shoes at Target since they never wear them more than a few times. Wisdom runs rampant at Laurie's Shoes, apparently.

These are not the shoes that were purchased yesterday. These are shoes that were purchased a few months ago on deep discount at Nordstrom Rack, anticipating that they would fit her come spring.

I have also noticed her 18-24 month clothing getting a little short. If kids are like puppies and paw size is indicative of how tall she will be, I see an athletic scholarship in her future.

This will happen...

......at the PLAAAYGROUND, ya know? Thank you to the lyrical talents of the 90's child group ABC for getting this song stuck in my head every time I started mentally penning this blog.
I can see winter right around the corner. It's taunting us with these dark cold mornings that make it difficult to get out of bed, assuming I wake up on time to begin with. Most mornings I see that it's still pitch black outside and assume I have many hours of Zzzzzzzzzzzzzs ahead of me, only to see it's 6:15 and I have to rush to get ready before Annie wakes up. Which never happens and then I have her on my hip or tugging the leg whilst trying to get lunches made and coffee consumed. I heard there's something called an "alarm clock" but those are for college kids and nerds.

So, Winter. Which means I will be trapped inside with a toddler that has the energy level of a jackrabbit with a nasty meth habit. I am not looking forward to you, winter. In an effort to eek out the last bit of enjoyment from this lovely fall, we have been hitting the local parks system. Hard.

For the grandparents/aunts/uncles out there that plan on ever taking Annie to the playground, I have compiled a list of things that will happen each and every time:

-Annie will be struck down violently by another child swinging on the swings. Apparently the whole "what goes up must come down" concept is lost on the 16 month old set.
-Annie will find a smaller child and will assault that child, usually in the form of a full body tackle. Whether or not this is all done in good fun is up for debate. Sorry, Charlie.
-Annie will find a morsel of food that dates back to the Regan administration that has been picked over by all the local rats and mice that run the playground at night and will try to eat it.
-Annie will drink from another child's sippy cup.
-You will think that because she dropped the world's biggest #2 right before you left home that you certainly won't need to bring your diaper bag. You will be wrong and will learn that it was actually the world's second largest #2.
-Something will happen (the list is really endless and may include any of the options noted above) that will make you feel like all the other parents at the playground think you are an unfit mother.
-Annie will again be struck down by another child swinging on the swings.

And this is all with us paying CLOSE attention. Whether or not any or all of this is normal playground behavior is unknown to me. But it's SOP for Annie Erwin's adventures at the park. But, despite all of the above, it is fun, Annie loves it, and we get out of the house. So to avoid being trapped indoors with a toddler with cabin fever, look for us patronizing the local playgrounds this winter. Annie will be so bundled up, it might be hard to recognize her. She'll be the one knocked out under the swings.

This Makes Me Happy

For the two of you that actually visit the blog's physical address on the interweb and don't just get the automatic email, you have likely noticed my instagram account streaming on the right hand side of the page. Yes, Mom, Lynnie, etc, if you actually went to the website, you would get MORE information and photos. You'll never know what you are missing (I look forward to my mother's call later today asking what I am talking about).

Instagram is great for seeing little glimpses into people's lives. Mom, it's basically like the photo section of facebook, but you can make the pictures look cool. I was browsing Instagram the other day and came across this photo of my freshman college roommate's son, Henry. He's smiling sweetly, proud of his award he received at sports camp.

And then I noticed the child, prone in the background. And that was the day this photo became the best photo I have ever seen. In my LIFE.

When I am having a bad day, I like to go back and visit this little Giving Tree of a pic. I like to imagine exactly what was going on in this photo. I love the Glee on Henry's face. I love the complete lack of parents tending to the downed child in the background. I love the cones that really make it look like ol' Henry took this kid out on his way to the podium after conquering some obstacle course. Is this photo a little dark? Yes. Am I likely a sick individual for finding it so absolutley funny? Absolutely. But at least I am not the one that put it up on Instagram.

Bathroom Bounty

I mentioned last week that Annie is not big on toys. Or sitting still. Though I continue my quest undaunted for SOMETHING that will occupy her time. Even for a second while I wash our one remaining bottle. Or get selfish and want to actually sit for a second. After observing her drop rocks down the sewer last week, I thought I would try to recreate that little scenario, but without dropping dirty rocks into an even dirtier sewer. Apparently sewer play is where my inner germaphobe kicks in. Always good to know your limits.

In keeping with the sewer theme, I noted we had some extra toilet paper rolls that were prematurely stripped of their contents by a busy little bee. I taped that sucker to the side of a table, gave Annie some uncooked beans and cotton balls.....

....she was actually interested! She would drop a few things down into the cup, dump the cup, put the stuff back up on the table and repeat. Yes, with the hundreds of dollars in toys on this beautiful table, she's playing "Homeless Plinko". I think she might have been Amish in a previous life.

So I am obviously slow because it wasn't until I started writing this post that I realized that all of these pictures involve bathroom products, specifically toilet paper. The only other thing that has occupied Annie for any period of time was this 12-pack of toilet paper.

She carried it around, grunting at the sheer weight and awkward size of her burden. She wailed at her inability to free this precious package of what would inevitably be THE MOST FUN EVER...if she could just get this thing OPEN. Thankfully she is now letting me cut her nails, or those razor-sharp talons would have gone through that plastic like a hot knife through butter.

At one point she was actually circling it like a predator assessing the weakest point to attack its prey. Ultimately, she resorted to desperate measures and went with the teeth. I had to take it away at this point. You can imagine how well that went.

My advice to anyone thinking of buying Annie a present this holiday season: Save your money....and keep your cardboard toilet paper rolls.