A Girl and her Dog

Our terrier has always been MY dog. I named her Peyton, after my (former) Colts quarterback. She's always slept on my side of the bed, under the covers, down by my feet. If Steve (or anyone, really, for that matter) tries to hug me, she starts barking her fool head off.

She protects me. She's my dog.

But lately, I've noticed a shift in loyalties.

She protects BRIGID, now, when Steve 'gets' her. She jumps up excitedly on BRIGID when we get home. She lets BRIGID comfort her when she's hiding from thunderstorms that are out and about.




Brigid, Brigid, Brigid.

I'm not so sure I really like where this is heading...

Differences

With Brigid, I felt sick, all of the time. I didn't really get sick that often, but I always felt like I was on the verge of it, and that was just a miserable way to spend three months.

With this one, it's been so much better. The smell of pepper, and the memory of this pistachio/cherry/pepper mixture I got from Costco, is enough to send me into a fit of dry heaves, but the pervasive sense of nausea hasn't been there as often.

(Well, pepper and particle board, I should say. The smell of particle board wreaked havoc on me for awhile, too, which was awesome, because Brigid's new room is full of new IKEA particle board furniture. So, that made for a pleasant bedtime routine...)

(Oh, and crying. Pepper, particle board, and crying all make me want to vomit. Guess who is an emotional mess even when she isn't pregnant? That's right, this girl. It's all just a rockin' good time around these parts, is what I'm saying...)

With Brigid, right from the start, I don't think I met an Oreo I didn't like. I could go through an entire bag in a couple of days, no questions asked.

With this one, my sweet tooth is still there (as evidenced by the healthy dose of s'mores I put away over Memorial Day weekend), but it's not as all-consuming. Monday, Steve brought home a box of drumsticks when he went grocery shopping, and I DIDN'T EVEN WANT ONE ON MONDAY NIGHT! I was heartbroken, really...

(But apples? I can't seem to get enough apples. That's just weird. Also, Subway veggie subs. I don't get it, either...)

I don't remember being as drop dead tired with Brigid as I am with this one, but that's probably because when I was pregnant with Brigid, I didn't also have Brigid running around. I realize that probably makes a pretty big difference across the board. I also realize that's most likely going to make the newborn phase a little more hell-ish, too, so at least I have that to look forward to.

But, you know, not everything is different...

My hips are getting bigger. My stomach is, too. My hair is drying up and falling out at an alarming rate. And my skin is breaking out like I'm one, big hormonal mess.

Which I am. Again.

So, at least that makes sense.

It's nice to have something familiar to fall back on, after all.

Compromise

In a move that will shock absolutely no one who has EVER met a toddler, Brigid's desire to be carried from place to place has increased exponentially since my doctor told me I should limit how much I pick her up. And after having the 'mommy can't pick you up because of the baby' conversation with her every day for the last month, she's finally starting to catch on to the way things work.

I mean, if I'm the only one around? She still demands I hold her. But at least now, if she has other options, she'll use them.

Last night, she asked Steve to take her upstairs for her bath. 'Pick up, daddy. You no have baby in your tummy. Only mommy have baby in her tummy.'

So, she knows how that works, anyway...

Summer Fun

Do you know what the best part of having Brigid around is?

When we make s'mores, and they're really, really messy, and she gets tired of having marshmallow and chocolate all over her face, I can TOTALLY eat the rest of hers, along with the one I made for myself, and nobody looks at me funny.



Sometimes, kid, I think those sleepless nights might actually be worth it...

Well, this has been going on for weeks, now...

So, it looks like Brigid is getting a younger sibling for Christmas this year.

And Steve and I are about 6 1/2 months away from being matched up, one-on-one, against the children in our house. Considering Brigid is an easy kid, and it sometimes still takes both of us to handle the toddler-wrangling, I think this also means we are about 6 1/2 months away from losing whatever small amount of sanity we have left in our lives.

But...NEW BABY!!!

Sanity is probably highly overrated, anyway...

Scenes from Spring...

Between trips to the neighborhood pool and popsicles on the back porch, I think it's safe to say we've bypassed spring and jetted straight into summer...
 

She likes me!

Apparently, when Brigid told me the other night that she did not, in fact, like me much at all, she was totally yanking my chain. Because when I got home from work last night? I got more hugs from that kid while I was making her dinner than I had in her entire life before that point.

And then! Well, then she apparently missed me so very, very much, in fact, that once she saw me again, she decided she was not going another night without seeing me as much as possible, if our 3am to 4:30am slumber party is any indication.

So. She loves me! Or something like that...

(Let's completely ignore the part in the evening, though, when she ran to Steve to 'protect' her because 'mommy is mean', shall we? I mean, it's my own fault, of course, for requesting that she put on a nightgown after her bath and brush her teeth before bed.

I am evil. Obviously.)

Glad to have you home, Bug.

Changing My Mind

Brigid and Steve have been out of town for the last few days, on a long weekend trip to the beach. It's been nice and relaxing around the house, with only myself to deal with (I cleaned the house on Saturday! Well, part of it, anyway! And the part that I cleaned? IT STAYED CLEAN!!!), but still...I've missed that kid, something terrible.

Oh, and Steve. I've missed him, too.

Anyway, last night, on our pre-bedtime Facetime call, I asked her if she was ready to come home, yet, since they were heading back to Atlanta today.

No.

No? You're not ready to come home? Steve tried again, asking her what she liked more, the house she was in at that moment, or her house at home, with me.

Dis one.

Why?

Me no yike mommy.

Well. Ok, then.

You know, I'd always thought that I wanted all girls, because girls are what I know. I grew up with two sisters. I already have a daughter of my own. I am a girl, for crying out loud. I know how it works.

Plus, if I'm being honest, the clothes for girls are just cuter. It's the way of the world, and you can't argue with my logic.

But now? I am SERIOUSLY rethinking my life plan. If it takes learning about boy things to birth a kid that actually likes me, then I am all for it. I will do what it takes to have at least ONE KID that likes me more than Steve, I swear...

If you'll excuse me for just a moment...

...I'll be sitting over here, simultaneously crying my eyes out and dancing for joy, because my baby is leaving me for a few days to go to the beach with her father.

Will I miss her?

More than anything.

Will I still revel in the fact that (other than letting the dogs out a couple of times during the day, and maybe feeding them, if they're really well behaved) I won't need to get out of bed on Sunday for THE WHOLE, ENTIRE DAY, OMG WHAT WILL I DO WITH MYSELF??\#$!?!@#@!?

Oh, buddy. You'd better believe it.

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A happy Mother's Day weekend to all of you wonderful mothers out there, and a very, very, very special happy Mother's Day to my favorite mother of them all, that lovely lady up in Indiana who raised me to be the spectacularly awesome woman I am today...

(Shut up, you all know I am spectacularly awesome...)

(Also, Mom? If I don't call on Sunday? It's totally because I'm sleeping. Because, you know, not to brag or anything, but I don't have to get out of bed on Sunday. At all. Consider this fair warning...)

Toddler Talk

Have you ever had a conversation with a two-year old? If you haven't, I highly recommend you find the nearest one you can and strike up a conversation, immediately. Because it. is. awesome.

Brigid, man...she has all of these thoughts and ideas and opinions. And she can articulate them now, which just amazes me beyond all else. I mean, I knew her when she was a little blob of baby! Where in the world did my blob go?!?! And why on earth did she leave me with this kid that's capable of talking back to me, now?!?!

She knows we think it's cute when she says ho-ye guacamo-ye, so she does it on demand. She catches it every time mommy says something that shouldn't be said, and she (obviously) repeats it the minute it's out of my mouth, evil little glint in her eye and smile on her face, included. She uses reasoning on me when I tell her I'm tired, and I need to go to bed in my own bed, with a you be all right in my bed, mommy. And I WOULD be all right in her bed, if it comes right down to it, which she knows, of course.

When I tried to put her to bed despite her thoughts that she should be allowed to stay up all hours of the night, and I told her I loved her? She responded with, what I'm assuming is the first of many, given how rotten I was as a teenaged girl, a me no yove you. Which would have been heartbreaking, if it hadn't been coming from the funny little mouth of a sulking toddler.

I swear, EVERYTHING is funnier coming out of the mouth of a sulking toddler.

She's told me she needs to go potty, better hurry mommy!, while going potty down her leg. She's also told me she needs to go potty just to score a jelly bean for her efforts. She mispronounces chalk in a way that makes me giggle EVERY SINGLE TIME SHE SAYS IT, because I am more 12 year old boy than 32 year old woman on most days. She gets really excited when I open the cheese drawer in the refrigerator, because daddy buy me white cheese!, never mind the fact that we only have string cheese in the house because I demanded a trip to Costco last week to replenish the poor child's cheese stock.

But, you know...whatever, Brigid.

Beyond that, and obvious daddy bias aside, I genuinely enjoy talking to that kid. She is smart and funny and just generally entertaining as hell, and I am luckier than any one person has a right to be that I get to go home to her everyday.

Whether she thinks she yoves me right now, or not...

Wind in Her Hair

Friday night, Steve and Brigid caught a ride downtown with Steve's sister and mom to meet me for dinner when I finally got off of work for the day. And since my car was the only family vehicle available to us for the ride home, I shoe-horned a carseat and a 6'0 man into the back seat of my two-door VW convertible for the twenty minute (all side street) trip back to the burbs. It was, shockingly, much more successful than I thought it would be.

Of course, most of that success could be attributed to the fact that I sit ON TOP of the wheel when I'm driving, since my 5'2 legs have trouble reaching the gas pedal, so Steve found just enough leg room to get him through the short drive, but that's neither here nor there...

Since Brigid generally freaks out the minute I even think about rolling down a WINDOW in my car, I didn't think there was any way she'd agree to taking the whole top down on the car, but Steve told me that she'd love it. And he was right...

(Seriously, I HATE when that happens...)

At one point, she yelled at me for stopping, and I had to try to explain how traffic laws worked to a two-year old, specifically in regards to a red light. The minute the light changed to green, though, she grabbed her blanket and said excitedly, 'here we go night-night!', and it was maybe the cutest thing that has ever come out of her mouth. Which is really saying something, because there are A LOT of cute things that come out of her mouth, but there you have it...






I'm glad she enjoyed her trip...

(Of course, it should be mentioned that about halfway through the drive, she claimed she was done and asked me to put the top back up, so I was kind of right, too, STEVE, but whatever. She enjoyed it for awhile, anyway...)

Brigid says...

A couple of weeks ago, Steve was throwing Brigid around the room, and even though she seemed to think it was the greatest ride ever, it freaked me out a little bit. And when I told him to quit, he didn't exactly jump to respond, so I defaulted my 'mother' voice, pulling out a very stern 'Stop it, Stephen'.

Last night, while Brigid was sitting in her room, flipping through a book, Steve kept trying to tickle her foot. Brigid looked him straight in the eye and said, 'Stop it, Stephen'.

I don't think that will ever NOT be funny to me.

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Brigid knows where Steve hides the jelly beans. And even though I didn't necessarily want to reward her with candy during this whole potty training process, she knows where to go to get her treat when she's been a big girl.

Today? She asked my mother-in-law if she went potty, and when my MiL responded that she had?

Brigid gave her a jelly bean.

Treats for EVERYONE!!!

(But, only the orange ones, because Brigid doesn't like those, herself...)

Spring Festival

She has the angry model look down cold, doesn't she?







It should be noted that we went to the spring festival in our town this weekend, primarily to get Brigid a balloon. And then she made Steve let the air out and blow it up again approximately fifty times over the rest of the weekend, until I was able to sneak it into the trash can once and for all. It should also be noted that I got out of the balloon blow up process by pleading sickness.

Silver lining to crazy congestion and a throat of fire, I guess...