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. 

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.