Wednesday, September 26, 2012

We Need an Intervention

We gots a wee little obsession over here. I have discussed it before. Chap stick, lip balm, lip stick. Lady Baby lurves to moisturize her lips. And it is that intense love. The kind of great love that William Shakespeare and Danielle Steel write about. The kind Meat Loaf sings about. Epic. Love. Thou shalt never be separated kind of love. 
This is the stuff Lady Baby's dreams are made of.
A few nights ago, Her Highness called to me in the middle of the night to go potty. (That is a whole other story). I got her up, walked her to the bathroom, and noticed through my fog of exhaustion and half closed eyes that she was holding her new Sleeping Beauty Lip Smackers. And by holding, I mean clenching. I vaguely remembered her carrying it into her room that night at bedtime, and I realized she had been holding it in her hot little hand for the last five hours. FIVE. I am now concerned that if she is sleeping with her hand clenched that tightly, we are going to have to have some kind of crazy expensive brace that insurance won't pay for constructed by geniuses at the Mayo clinic to straighten her hand back out. It will be in medical books and magazines. Chap stick fist. Or Alice Hand. We will keep working on the jazzy name since it is what she will be famous for. On the flip side, if we can't afford the brace, she can be the spokesfist for future labor campaigns. She is a natural leader. I think its a good fit.
Her's will probably have more purple, glitter, and a chap stick in the fist. From the looks
of my google search, she may also need to move to Russia to really make this work.
The only real issue with our own personal True Life: I am a Toddler Obsessed with Chap Stick (and I Occasionally Eat Paper) saga is that she loses them constantly. Hard to imagine, since she carries them everywhere. But she sets them down to do things and forgets where she has put them. Or she drops them in Target. Or they fall out of her pocket on the jungle gym. Or I throw them away becuase they are covered in dirt and funk and look like a mole rat has been gnawing on them (if you ever tell you are dead to me). They are constantly lost, misplaced, and missing. Cue the hysteria and hand wringing. I have learned the hard way. Buy her precious lip schmear in bulk. I try to always have TWO back up tubes stashed away. One can never by too careful. One can never be too smart. One can never be too prepared. One can never be too much of an enabler.  


Here is the evidence:
I took some liberties with doodles. I just think top hats and 'staches
make everything more festive and jaunty. And a toddler with a beard is just plain funny.
The real icing on the gloss cake? A few days ago Lady Baby streaks down the hall to the bathroom to take her daily doofenschmirtz. A few minutes later I hear the sound of the mini potty scraping across tile and then the noise a cat makes when you slam it's tail in the door (maybe). I walk in the bathroom to see my child standing with panties around her ankles, a look of utter horror on her face, and her little finger pointing toward a large poop. Unsure of this reaction, I look in the potty. There, beside Mr. Hanky, is the top to her chap stick. Makes a girl wonder what she did in a previous life that has her picking the lid of a Daisy Duck lip smacker out of a tiny toilet bowl. This is my life people. And that schmidt is glamorous. And by glamorous I mean really gross and not for the faint of heart.

Feel free to send us a lifetime supply of various chap sticks. 



Saturday, September 22, 2012

Death by Insane Schedule

Remember how I used to have a blog? Yeah, me too.

Good morning...I am still here. I am still alive. Despite repeated attempts for my two year old to kill me. Things are crazy since school started back. Why is it that we always think the next phase of life is going to be calmer? Or maybe that is just something Hubs and I do. We are constantly saying things like..."things should be a little calmer in the fall."  Or, " I can't wait for Winter. I think our schedule will be a little easier." And then the next season comes and it is WHAM. Every weekend busy. Endless shenanigans. I am exhausted and keeping waiting for things to calm down. And they never do. Ever. Ever. It is a beast of our own making, but we can't stop. At least once a week, we say things like, "we are doing too much. We need not pack in so many things every day, especially on the weekends." And then there is the weekend and we are balls to the wall and all over the place, and we are all, "damn, we did it again. We are too much fun." 
I can't believe the made a statue to look just like me. Finally.
I need to give it up and just embrace the fact that we are all over the place and our life will not calm down until we are in the old folks home. And probably not then either. It will be a packed schedule of shuffleboard and bridge. At least for me, I suspect Hubs type A personality will be his down fall. Heart attack or death by exasperated heavy breathing due to my disorganization.

Stick with me folks. I will be back. I am going to try to store up posts so that I can bring them out a few times a week without stressing over the fact that I have nothing on the Trap. Everyone stop snickering...I am really going to try and do it. This may or may not happen, but I will do my best. Feel free to place your bets now. 

Related news: Taking applications for an intern who will work for experience, love and hugs. You can also live with us if you don't mind sharing a bathroom with a two year old who is potty training. Also must be willing to run a vacuum occasionally and get up with a two year old when we want to sleep in. 

Friday, September 14, 2012

Birthday Extravaganza Revealed

Sorry I have been MIA this week...I was busy. Preparing a birthday extravaganza meal for my one true love. Ok, ok. That only took Tuesday. BUT. In my defense, Monday was spent shopping and mentally preparing. Tuesday was spent cooking/eating/celebrating, Wednesday and yesterday were spent recovering and catching up on everything not done on Monday or Tuesday.  The poor birthday boy didn't even have clean under-roos. Oops.
The under roos have since been cleaned.
So here is how it went down. He asked for Mommy's Chicken Tetrazzini (his mommy, not me or mine). Due to my recent Pinterest addiction, I thought, "hey, why not add some fun new recipes to the b-day menu?" So I also made White Pizza Dip (life changer on every level) and instead of cake I did cupcake thingys that are chocolate chip cookie dough with brownie on top then a reese cup in the middle. Henceforth these shall be called Magical Deliciousness. So I had a lot of food to make and only one day to make it in. This is the kind of day that reminds me why I have Her Highness in preschool. Schmidt's gotta get done, yo. So I spent preschool hours in the kitchen and then nap hours in the kitchen. This left very little time to parent my child and shower. Thank goodness I did a great job making sure she devoted many long minutes to making DaDa a card and I was able to squeeze in a quick warsh. 
Socks pulled up-check. Pen and sticker-check.  Two chaptsticks-check.

When I cook, it is serious business. It takes all my focus. All my attention. Every fiber of my being. It also takes most of the pots, pans, bowls, spoons, and dishes that I own. It is not easy and it is so not neat. I am a tornado in the kitchen. A twister. If you are in the near vicinity please take your belt off, grab Bill Paxton, and attach yourself to the nearest plumbing, because it's going to get crazy. 

The good news is, I am really good at getting a lot in the dishwasher, and I am one of those people that other people hate because I wash everything in the dishwasher. Because it is a *dish*washer and they are *dishes.* And I can replace them someday when they are worn out after 20 years of being washed in the dishwasher, but I can never get my precious time back. And I can't be wasting my time. Fall TV is about to start again. Priorities. 

This is only a small fraction of that which was dirty.
Bam. Don't hate. See that knife in there? That's one of my good knives.

Moving on...The dip, oh the dip. Amazing does not even cover it. Please, please make this. For your next party, or your next seance, or your next night alone watching a movie in your stretchiest elastic waist pants. Do not however make this dip if we are going to be at the same party, seance, or pj  movie night (or anywhere else) because I will be making this. And then you will look like an ass. (I will make sure everyone knows it is my recipe that you stole.) If you want to get the recipe click here: so good I almost cried. Once you click it there is no going back because you will be forever changed. So make sure you emotionally prepared to eat that much cheese, possibly alone.
Get it.
The tetrazzini is yum and not hard, just labor intensive. You have to make your own white sauce for pete's sake. And while I think it is stating the obvious to say that I am no Giada (mostly because she is an alien what with the head and slanty eyes) it is totally worth it because it is so so good. And I have been told that mine is as good as the mother-in-law's. SQUUUEEEEE. This is a huge compliment since hub's loves his mama's cooking.
                         See what I mean? Y'all see it. And she is so not eating what she
                                                  is cooking. Only an alien could do that.
                                        Or maybe I am just jealous because hubs thinks she
                                                   so hot. I think probably a little of both.

The Magical Delicousness cupcake thing-a-ma-bobs. What to say, except, Oh Ma Ga. These are pretty easy because you use a pre-made tube of cookie dough, a box of brownie mix, and reese cups. The hardest part is unwrapping the candy. *yawn* But the rest is quick quick and if you put a scoop of vanilla ice cream with them then your tastebuds will do this: 

Unfortunately when four adults eat an entire crock of pizza dip, then tetrazzini, chased with the magical deliciousness with vanilla ice cream, along with beer and wine, there is not much else to be done but lie on the couch and cry.


They were, however, tears of joy. 

The good news is I have fully recovered. The bad news is I may never cook again. But that may actually be good news. Also, I love my birthday way more than hubs loves his. Therefore, I set the bar high with so much wonderfulness which should ensure that I get the proper attention and dedication to my special month day. Strategery or evil geniusness? You be the judge. I think we all know what I think. *evil laugh here*



Tuesday, September 4, 2012

That Last 15 Minutes

Bed time. The stalling, the whining, the requests for another book, another song. It can wear you out, especially when you have spent the day catering to your tiny dictator's every whim. As y'all know, Lady Baby moved to a big bed a few months ago. The transition was easy, as far as transitions go. She loves her bed, loves her room, loves feeling like a big girl. Bedtime is fairly quick and painless, only about 15 minutes. But to me, often it is the best 15 minutes of the day.

I love the time after I have turned out the light, and before I leave, when Lady Baby and I are laying on her bed. We read, we cuddle, we chat. I tell her that she is the most beautiful person I know, inside and out. I tell her how smart she is. I remind her how much I love her, more than anyone else or anything else in this world. I tell her she is special. An amazing little girl who will do great things. I sing her songs. She pats my cheek and I rub her back. It is just us. For those precious few minutes, we are the only people in the world. Drifting on our raft of pillows and feathers through the dark. 

It is the only time I have her full attention. My only chance to let her know that she is the most special person ever created. That she can do anything, be anything, and think anything. There is nothing else competing for our attention. No TV. No phone. No computer. No pets, or friends, or horns beeping. Just the two of us in the twilight, curled up and whispering. No one told me about this part of the Big Girl bed. How nice it is to finish out the end of a long day in peaceful love. The last thing she sees before she sleeps is a face that adores her. The last thing she hears is that she is an extraordinary person who can and will do extraordinary things. I kiss her little face and neck and make her giggle and shriek, and then she quietens and hugs me tight. It is a gift that I get to send her into her dreams on sweet words and love.

When she was in her crib we didn't have this time. There is something about being able to cuddle up and talk that makes a difference. It is a superb way to end the day, no matter what kind of day it was. Despite earlier time outs, yelling, angry words, or crying, the end of the day is our time to be still and let it all go. No matter what the day brought, it ends with hugs and pats, and You are My Sunshine, and Itsy Bitsy Spider. Sometimes it is hard to watch our children grow up. But other times, it really is marvelous. This is one of those times.

Shhh, don't wake the Badger. She is dreaming about being
a ballerina, or the CEO of a Fortune 500 Company,
or the dictator of a small country.
 

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