Disney-18 months

Though I did not mention it here, because I am afraid of scary internet people that will rob me, we were in Disney World over Thanksgiving. These scary internet people are not to be confused with all the scary internet people that are on facebook and instagram, because I BLEW UP those suckers with pictures of us on vacation. Oh well. We were not robbed. That I can tell.

There will have to be a longer summary at some point, but I wanted to let you all (all 4 of you) know we survived. We did more than survived. We kicked Disney World's booty. I am so thankful for Rick's generous family for providing us with this wonderful trip. I am thankful for a wonderful husband that is such a great travel companion. But (as far as the trip was concerned), I am most thankful for our amazing 18 month old Annie.

Disney really puts things in perspective. While it is the happiest place on earth, there are times when it doesn't seem quite so happy. At any given moment you are in earshot of some child in the throes of a full-blown nuclear (noocular) melt-down. I think the water supply to the joint is actually desalinated baby tears.

But not our baby. To say she was a trooper wouldn't do it justice. Sure, she was fussy a few times, and she did strike a few blows to her sweet cousin (and a few stranger kids) while waiting in lines. But we really saw how things could be. And while she does hit and squirm and not like to be held and runs all over the place, she is also sweet and happy and kind (when she's not hitting) and so funny that she makes strangers laugh.  

So to our Annie, a few days after your one and a half year birthday, thanks for being so wonderful. I think Rick will agree with me when I say that where ever you are is the happiest place on earth.

I love you, sweet girl.

~Mom

Good Hair

When I was envisioning my life with a sweet baby girl, I imagined dresses, cute outfits, maybe even a bow or two to pin back what I was sure would be poker straight brown hair. I was prepared for thick or thin hair. But straight. And brown. Because that's what's swimming around in our little gene pool.

I was not prepared for a curly-haired blond baby.

But, I have done my research, chatting up any parent that has a curly haired child, asking what they do, what they don't do, trying to cull together some sort of plan. I attacked it scientifically. I would implement any new strategy and then observe the results. Don't wash more than once a week, use conditioner as necessary. Don't brush it, use a comb as necessary. Typically, the results ended up something like this:

Not ideal. Unless your goal is for your child to look like Gary Busey's mug shot (google it).

To make things extra annoying, there would be days where it would actually end up looking cute. But those tended to be few and far between, or a cute hair day was ruined by an aggresssive nap where the baby hair that went in was not the baby hair that emerged. And introduce winter hats to the mix...no bueno.

As far as I can tell, Annie's hair is too straight to be treated like curly hair, and too curly to be treated like regular straight hair. So I am abandoning the curly hair regimen as I can stand crazy semi-curly hair, but I cannot stand crazy dirty, unbrushed semi-curly hair. If the lack of brushing or washing resulted in cute curls, I would be 100% on board. But, alas, we do not fit the mold.

So moving forward, we will wash, brush....



...and pray for good hair days (like today).

Crankster

In addition to the aforementioned biting, Annie has been a bit cranky these days. Not 100% of the time. The hitting seems to make her happy.

But there are some times where nothing, not even a good thwack to Mom's face, will make the whining stop. It is in these times that I struggle most as a mother. I have no idea what to do. I usually spend the first five minutes of the whinefest trying to figure out what's wrong.

Doing this with a toddler with limited communication skills is a lesson in futility.

I will spend the next five minutes trying to ignore the tantrum. You always hear people say that if you ignore a misbehaving child, they will stop.

They are lying. Or these children don't have the same stick-to-itness as my dear Annie.

I also don't know how to ignore her. I mean she's clawing her way up my leg whilst screaming. At one point I actually found myself running from her in an effort to "ignore" her. Not the proudest moment.

The other afternoon Annie woke up from a nap in an especially cranky mood. So much so she was trashing around and was pretty much a danger to herself and others. I rationalized that she must not have been ready to wake up yet, so I put her back in her crib and walked out of the room.

And she cried.

And wailed.

And called for Mommy.

After a few minutes I became convinced I was inflicting irreversible psychological damage and decided to go rescue my daughter. Her face was covered in snot and tears and my heart broke. She reached for me and yelled:

MOM SHOESH!

Yes. Mom, Shoes.

I think she's going to survive. I can't say the same for her mom.

The latest and (not so) greatest

Yes. In the spirit of full disclosure, I feel I should document our most recent stage over at Casa de Erwin.

Hitting.

And it's not really a "I got hit in the face because I happened to be in the line of fire during a flailing tantrum" type hit. We have those too, but that's not what I am talking about.

It's me telling Annie that she has to drink her milk before she gets more water.

Resulting in me getting a smack to the face.

It's me trying to get Annie in the carseat to go to the grocery store.

Uppercut to my jaw.

I have been working really hard to hold her hands, look her in the eyes and tell her NO, we don't hit. It hurts Mommy.

Last night she did the move where she did all the motions like she was going to hit me, and then stopped this short of my face. Total psych out.

I am not sure this is progress.