Mend

I'm sitting downstairs in the dark- hiding from you. I don't mean to, but NaNa is in the dryer and I'm trying to spare you a meltdown.
Your fan club has been after me to update them on my little chickadee.
It's been a long, trying week. You're still only at about 50%.
Your face is red, raw, and tired.
Your spunk comes in tiny spurts vs. the typical endless tide pool.
I've smeared more Vicks, Aquaphor, and Bag Balm on you than most old ladies wear in a month.

So, we're weathering the storm together as a family.
I hope you can feel the love ... so many people have asked about you this week- you are SO loved.

Boogers and all.

Feel better soon.

Mama loves.

Wordless Wednesday

Portrait of Sadness

For the past 16 hours, you and I have become more acquainted than ever before.
You might think that impossible seeing as how I'm the one who gave birth to you, and all.

But today, darling daughter, you threw up in my mouth.

. . .

You're sick and tired, and scared and I wish I could make it all go away for you. This flu thing, we've never done THIS before.
We did get to have four costume changes apiece, today.
That would have been more fun had you not had vomit in your hair.
Or me, in mine, either.

So, I've been your personal health technician today.
You say, 'NOSE' and I wipe it.
You say, 'WATER' and I tip it to your lips.
You say, "HOLD YOU', and I'm there faster than you can say ... Oh NO! It fell out! when you threw up on the carpet by your farm.

I'm so sorry, sweetie. Please get better.
Mama loves.

The End of an Era

It took just over two years for this day to come, and I knew well ahead of time I would be sad when it happened. I was prepared, and yet, still. I am not.

She has worn her last onesie.

I remember the size NB ones ... that when I unwrapped from the package and laid flat, I thought there's no way a baby would ever be that small. I was wrong.

I made outfits out of onesies, layering the tiny tees to make them work for my winter baby.

There were the onesies the lil' dude's Godfather picked out, the ones Daddy liked best.

Then, there was the funny one I picked out special for my mini-Hollywood when I went on that work trip right after she was born.

That Hollywood phenom caught on!

And, as she grew, they grew. I knew the number '24 months' was as high as they'd go. I made sure we got our fill.

Some lazy summer days spent at home, the onesie became an outfit on its own. I'll miss that simplicity.

The last one. As her legs grew longer and independence stronger, I secretly liked that part of her was still a baby; that part of her clothed in a onesie wouldn't mean she was grown up.

But, she is. I tucked away all her onesies ... from sizes NB, 3mo., 6 ... 9, 12 ... 18, and 24.
They are nestled safely away with the rest of her bygone babyhood; the pacifiers, bottles. Her first pair of Uggs. The swaddling blankets, chew toys, and bibs declaring her first everything.

But onesie, it is you, inexplicably, I will miss the most.

Privacy

I am lamenting on your grown-upness today, lil' dude.

The time has already come when you prefer to do your ... duties by yourself in the bathroom.

That's right, at age two, your tiny defiance has reigned supreme.
Mama, leave, you whisper.
So I do.

And yet;
I still comb your hair.
Put your toothbrush out.
Pick out your clothes.
Your jammies.
Kiss your owwies.
Read you stories.
Play the part of make-believe you want me to.
Pour your milk.
Wash your face.
Tuck you in.
Remind you of your manners.
Love you to the moon.

Wordless Wednesday

Sticky & Sweet

I have always been in love with your Hollywood lashes ...


A lollipop is a rare treat, but it served its purpose as part of your toilet training.


Not much on slowly savoring anything, you demolished your cherry pop in under five minutes.


And I was sitting there, taking you in, snapping an obscene amount of photographs the entire time.

Because I just won't ever get enough of you.

Sticker Saturday

The lil' dude received a care package in the mail today.
A book about snow and some Elmo stickers, she set about doing what she does best.



Sharing the love.

Mama's New Project

I've added to the Lil' Dude world here!

Spread the word and share the love, Internetz!

Mama loves.

Wordless Wednesday

ObsessiveCrazyDaughter

It's not you, it's inherent.

Your father likes things in such a way. Not even a month ago, he asked me if I could go through the utensil drawer because it was too full and cluttered. A man in the utensil drawer!
He carefully places an old Kleenex, his chapstick (a certain brand, of course), and his cold glass of water on his night stand each night.
He insists his contact case be left on his bathroom counter, even after I stash it in his drawer once a week.
He changes the art around in his man cave according to sports season.
He's obsessive about deicing and snow-pack on the driveway.

And clearly, he's passed his mild OCD trait onto you.


I'm sorry, love. It's not you, I promise.
{There is even a picture of you from last night CLAPPING at your feat! Oh. Boy.}

Our Protector

You know, not every little kid is like you, lil' dude.
You're so fearless. And helpful.

And, you combined those two qualities into one this weekend when you crawled under Daddy and Mama's bed looking for monsters, and safely assured us there was not, in fact, any monsters hiding under our bed.

Thank you for your bravery and dedication to our safety, lil' dude.
Mama loves.

The New 2

Potty Time, not Party Time

One of my friends used to say that to her small house dog when she'd take her outside right before bed.
It's potty time, not party time!

And it ain't no party here either!

I had illusions of the lil' dude being fully toilet trained by age 2.
At 18 months, we introduced the princess to her new pink throne and it went well. She went well. Then, well ... life got in the way. But, since she walks and talks and counts and colors and sings and helps we figured 2010 is IT for toilet training. She surprised me when I came home Monday with her ability to let me know she had to go, and going within 2 minutes of said pronouncement.

As a working mom, I long for the texts and pictures I get from the Daycare Lady during the days away from my daughter.

Who, bless her heart, sent this to me today;
The lil' dude doesn't want to wear a diaper today. If you want to bring some undies and more extra pants we can try no diaper.

Then;
Don't get too excited :) but I am taking full advantage. She's going commando right now. We'll see how it goes.

And, when I mentioned how sad I was to miss this;
You probably are going to be missing her peeing all over the floor so don't feel like you are missing anything super fun. :)
{Clearly why I love her}

And, later;
Still going great. No accidents!

And then the biggie {here I will apologize to my future teenaged daughter, SORRY}
We had a clutch the crotch moment right before naptime. Her eyes wide. She yelled DAYCARE LADY POOP! So we ran to the bathroom and she pooped in the toilet.

I'm so proud of her!
And mad at Disney ... why can't they put their Pixar characters on GIRL undies!?
I guarantee the lil' dude cares more about keeping Nemo or Lighting dry than some stupid princess!

Letter from Mama, v25

You sweep your bangs out of your eyes when they fall out of place, as they escape from their clip or barrette.
It's this single act of girlhood that has caused me to inhale deeply, sharply.
You're going so fast. You're getting so big.

Last night you were laying on the stairs, toes pointed outward so your head was on one side, and your toes the other. You filled an entire stair-step. You were wrapped in NaNa, and you were petting and kissing a stuffed penguin I had already once packed away into a Christmas tote, bound for the crawl space. You were whispering to him, and kissing his nose. Telling him not to be afraid, then telling him goodnight. Your heart, lil' dude, is the size of your giant hazel eyes. It's the width of your outstretched arms. It's bigger than anything I've ever know. What a lucky penguin. What a lucky Mama.

I love how you squirrel away things around the house. Your bowl of crackers. Your Disney toys. Your fuzzy stickers, face lotion, my chapstick, your baby's clothes. I'm always asking you where you put _____ and you always know. You run spirited, to your hiding place to reveal your secrecy to Daddy and I. We get such a kick out of your idiosyncrasies. Like, how we were driving this week and reciting the alphabet together and when I got to Q and you said 'CUSE! from the backseat with all vigor of a true fan. Your Daddy; he loves those stories.

You always refer to yourself as a funny girl.
Which, is funny.
You call yourself cute.
Which, is cute.
You use my toothbrush when I leave you alone on your stool.
We wash your hair with real shampoo.
You love diced up turkey dogs skewered with pretzels at snack time.
I think you'll be done with sippy cups very soon.
The world around you is your garden and you dig it.
You are a constant, warm ball of fiery energy. You keep me on my toes!
And I love it!
And you.

Mama loves.

Wordless Wednesday

Miss

I talked to you on the phone on my way home last night; it had been over a week since I had heard your voice. I didn't think I could bear to talk to you from Mexico- emotionally speaking. I missed your voice. It changed. Daddy handed you the phone and we talked for seven minutes. He said you took the phone, laid on the couch, and talked and talked. You told me you missed me, and that I should come home to lil' dude's house. I agreed. I drove and drove!

You were shrieking MOMMY even before I hit the door, I could hear you in there. You leaped into my arms from the stairs. I held you and hugged and cried a little. My eyes and cheeks were hot. Daddy made me dinner, I sat down to eat it. You sat on the table, right next to me, touching me, helping me eat. I didn't even make you get down onto a chair!



I called Daddy on New Year's Eve. You were playing with E.- I heard you two fought that night the way it seems you two do occasionally, just like little sisters. I brought you two matching souvenirs because ... I know you'll fight over it if it was only yours. I asked then, if you missed me. Daddy said in the mornings you would say, Mama shopping? and he'd reply, "Mama, vacation. Mama Mexico." Then, you'd wait to ask about me until the next morning.

I am glad- and I mean it- that you were so good and rolled with it all week. I am glad you slept that one morning until 11am when Daddy didn't feel good. I am glad you are you because you are so good at it!

2010

Wishing you a very Happy New Year.
May 2010 be everything you dreamed of.
Good health, good friends, good opportunities, and goodness abound.

Best,
Lil' Dude's Mama