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. 

16 Months, a snapshot

Dear Annie,

You are now 16 months old. I am so exhausted from chasing you around that I can hardly come up with anything sweet or sentimental to say. What I can say is that I was warned, by just about everyone, about this stage. When they heard you were walking they'd say super-supportive things like "that's the worst" or "better lock down the house!". I would smile like an idiot and respond with how much I prefer walking over crawling and because you were so quick while crawling that walking really wasn't much different.

Well, you stopped walking. All together. You run. 100% of the time. Primarily while staring that the floor with your arms splayed out behind you. This little development really ups the level of danger in the house considerably. Everything (walls, tables-even though padded, chairs, humans that happen to be in your path) is a collision or impact hazard. I have been taking you outside a lot while we are home together because at least out there are things that catch your eye and cause you to stop once in a while, mid-sprint. Of course, the fact that we live at the top of a slight hill doesn't really help things, since that allows you to really get up a head of steam when you are out on your adventures.

Because it was rainy yesterday, we went to Target to get supplies for "activities" since we were going to be inside most of the day. I had seen an item on Pinterest that I thought you would enjoy. It involved putting paint inside a ziploc bag, taping the bag down, and then you "finger paint" but without the mess. I had it all set up for you after your nap.

For a moment, I was hopeful that this would be a sufficient time-filler. Incorrecto. It took approximately 7.3 seconds (just after this photo was snapped) for you to rip the bag of paint off the tray and start swinging it over your head. It was at this point that I realized I had essentially given you a paint filled water ballon. Excellent. Thank God you were more interested in the tape than the paint or we would have had a serious situation on our hands. Moving forward I will have to start evaluating the worst-case scenario options for all your crafts.

Later in the day, I wanted to try to make some muffins for our neighbor who broke/dislocated two fingers when she fell down the stairs carrying one of her NINE MONTH OLD TWIN GIRLS. She also has 4 and 7 year old boys and has been told she can't lift anything heavier than a magazine for 6 weeks. There's your daily dose of "it could always be worse" should you happen to need it. If anyone deserves some muffins, it's this gal. So back in the chair you went. I had seen another neighbor girl who is your age be occupied for an HOUR thanks to candy sprinkles. Because of the dollar bin at Target, I had sprinkles at the ready and again, was fully prepared for this to be highly successful. And, it would help work on your fine motor skills. Of course, that's just my justification for plopping you down with mini-bits of sugar in front of you. 

Joke's on me! Guess who has no interest in sprinkles!?! You were temporarily occupied (90 seconds, maybe) with trying to get sprinkles back into the closed sprinkle container. Perhaps you have a future in magic? Given the simplicity of the recipe, I was able to at least get the first batch in the oven before you shouted "UP PEESH!" (repeat until demands met) and were freed from the chair.

You would sit still when you were allowed to sample the muffins, and unlike your Mom, actually seem to like pumpkin products.

So that's how you and I roll. I try to find fun things for you to do that other "crafty" moms go on about, and you just want to collect rocks and drop them down the holes in the sewer grate. You have your own little agenda and are so very busy (and fast) carrying it out. You very rarely stop moving. Your exhaustion is identified by what I fondly refer to as your "bad idea" period, where you are exceptionally clumsy, take extra risks (trying to balance on one foot while standing on the seat of your ridey toy), and think a headstand on concrete is a perfectly reasonable thing to do. And then you hit the wall. Hard. In this one scenario, I am not talking about an actual wall, though that might be part of it from time to time.

Everything I have discussed in this post is something I want to remember in thirty years, when you are a grown woman who worries about work and babies and bills and cleaning up. I want to remember that there was a time where you and I got to spend these days together doing whatever you wanted, and you are so very very sure what you want. And I hope that never changes, I just hope I get better at figuring it out.

I Love You, Sweet Girl,

Mom 

The Eyebrows Have It

People mostly tell me Annie looks like her Dad, which is fine by me. I obviously find The Ricker to be quite the looker. But recently Annie's been making some faces that have a little bit of a Mommy look to them.

So, she gets her eyebrows from her Mom. At least hers are raised in joy and appreciation, while mine are typically raised in shock and judgement. All in due time, my darling. And I am sure it's quite obvious that in all 3 pictures, the eyebrows are raised either while eating, or appreciating, a nice sweet treat. Looks like she gets her love of dessert from me too.

(I swear, these pics make it look like she's eating sundaes and oreos on the regular, but if it were such a common event, do you think we would be photographing it or getting such a response? Hmmmm? Put those eyebrows down and quit judging. A girl needs a treat once in a while.)

We're alive.

Barely.

We've cancelled our cable and I have given up (cut back on) sugar. We're hardly recognizable over here. I think this is what it's like to be Amish. Or off the grid. Or a cave man.

I vacillate between raging head aches and raging temper. And no Real Housewives of New Jersey to distract me. It's good times. Needless to say, the blog has suffered due to my lack of humor. Or will to live in a carb-free world where we watch "This Old House" on a Wednesday night.

Did I mention we've only been without cable for 24 hours? My reaction to the absence of sugar and cable in our lives clearly proves that it was something that needed to happen.

Pray for us.

1.25

Dear Annie,
Yesterday marked 15 months with you, my sweet girl. You are one and one quarter years old. You are so much. You are more than I think either of us could have ever imagined. You are so bright and have such a fun personality. You have no concept of strangers and find nothing more entertaining than engaging in "discussions" with new people. The ladies at the deli counter at the grocery store know you and seem to be disappointed when I don't have you with me. You really know how to work a room and it's hilarious to watch. Even more so when you reach your "I'm just about to lose my shiz I am so tired" phase, because in those 10 minutes, you are a 25 pound physical comedian, falling, flapping, head wagging, babbling maniac whose sole purpose is to capture the attention of anyone that dare step in your wake.

You have started to repeat more words now, but still in your sweet, high, unsure voice. You will say "peese" more and more, sometimes unprompted. Of course, you now think that by saying peese you should get anything you want, which resulted in a not-so-minor melt down over me refusing you pedialyte pops at 7:15 one morning. I guess that's an equally important lesson you will need to learn. And believe me, it's not easy for me to tell you no when I hear that sweet peese come from you.

You walk or run all the time now. You have no concept of danger and refuse to play on the "baby" section of the playground. The bigger the slide, the better. Though you still just prefer to climb up them. You are very tough and very rarely cry. You are on the move constantly. You still use your binkie, but really only right when you lay down to sleep. You love bunny more than ever. You sleep with a blanket. You now have 6 teeth (I think there are 6 up there, you don't ever let me look) on top and are getting 2 new teeth on bottom, for a grand total of 10. You have an adorable little gap in your top teeth, which is one of the few things that seems to be from me, though mine was a little less adorable. Let's all pray that's the only dental trait you inherited from your mother.

Showing everyone your cheez-its at the pool.

Playing in GB and Big's school bus in your super-girl PJs.

Learning that while also a tasty treat, Crayons also serve a secondary purpose!

Playing in the aforementioned school bus, but this time with Parker and Chloe. The squealing that ensued was likely to result in a noise complaint.

Getting ice cream with Dad on your 1.25 year old birthday. The strawberries make it healthy.

In 20 years I want to remember how independent you are and refuse to hold my hand, until you realize that you need help and your arm shoots up, knowing one of us is right there to help you out. I want to remember how funny you think it is when I blink really quickly with my face up close to yours, and how you love to stick your fingers veeeerrrrryyyy close to my eyes to feel my eye lashes. I want to remember how much you love reading about puppies and kittens. I want to remember how while you love the puppy and kitten books, your favorite thing to do with books is not to read them, but rather to carry them from room to room and unpack them from various shelves. I want to remember how you shake and your eyes get really big when you see something you really want, like mac and cheese or your Dad's iPhone.

I want to remember it all.

I love you, sweet girl.

Mom

The Dog Days

Today is Parker and Chloe's first day of school. Fifth and third grades, respectively. Unthinkable. One on the verge of middle school. I can remember those transition times so vividly. Trying to sleep the night before school started. Picking out our first day outfits with Mom. Getting all those fabulous new school supplies. It was all so exciting.

Rick and I made the mistake of going to Target this past weekend and fought the throes of people shopping for last-minute supplies to stock their desks and dorm rooms. Annie loved the bustle of it all and only tried to steal my keys once. I made a sideways glance at Rick and commented that in a few years it will be us buying all this stuff for our girl (though we both know he would NEVER allow it to be a last minute purchase). His response, "I don't even want to talk about it." And so we didn't and we hit the dollar bin for a pretend microphone and went about our day.

But I still couldn't stop thinking about Annie and summers and school. So yesterday, on what is for most in our area, the last day of summer break, Annie and I celebrated with a special breakfast out in our PJs (hers more obvious than mine).

We've got five years until our girl starts real school, but I am thinking it will take every one of those five years for me to ready for it. And even then, I doubt we will be. But hopefully we'll still grab breakfast in our PJs the day before, and I am sure that will help.

Chatterbox

Annie is getting more and more vocal these days. Most of the time it's just babbling, but now we are babbling with inflection. There's a difference.To me. She has also started repeating the last syllable/few letters of some things we say to her:

Me: Balloon
Annie: ooooon!
Me: Kitty Cat
Annie: AT!

I thought she had started calling her binkie "mimi" because that's what she would say when she would be reaching/looking for it. I thought that was pretty cute. Then we went into the back yard and she spotted the neighbor's jungle gym and Annie started lurching towards it and screaming "MEEEMEEEEMEEEEMEEEE!". So it's not a sweet nickname for her binkie (that was also the name we had for my grandmother). It's a demand. At least she knows what she wants!