You didn't tell me you were going to kill it...

For all that my daughter looks and acts like her father, it's nice to see that she has a little bit of me in her, too, from time to time...

Even if that 'me' that I'm seeing in her is her complete disgust in the pumpkin carving process. I'll take what I can get...

(And if you can tell me where I got today's post title from, you will earn extra special, best friend bonus points. And if you can't, then you OBVIOUSLY need to work on increasing your cultural exposure, because I am seriously disappointed in you.)

Send in the clowns (and zombies and superheroes and scary Flamenco dancers...)

So...my fall to-do list. I think it's starting to get the best of me, because, holy CATS am I exhausted.

Last weekend, the agenda included hitting up the Little Five Points Halloween parade, which I could have probably done without this year, because it's just a lot of people, crowded into the street, with kids throwing down for the opportunity to catch candy from floats.

Oh, and really long port-o-potty lines. Let's not forget those, of course.

But, we had to go, because Steve and Brigid LOVE this stupid parade. And there was some beer on tap there that Steve wanted to try. And Brigid (or her mother, as the case may be) is still disappointed about the lack of candy at the 4th of July parade we went to this summer. And we have this candy corn bag that's perfect for holding parade candy. And, yeah...we had to go.

I, in true pregnancy Grinch fashion, saw very little of the parade, because I am not kidding when I say people want to be IN the darn parade, to the point that even though we were in position an hour before the parade started, and even though there were barricades up to encourage people to stay on the sidewalks, Brigid and Steve were halfway across the street by the time the first floats came by, just so Brigid could be in front of all of the people crowding around us to see what was going on. And I was not ABOUT to get up from my chair, so, I saw the backs of a lot of people. Which is probably for the best, really, because there was an obnoxious little ten-ish year old boy who kept catching the candy and various other parade float giveaways that were thrown towards my three-year old daughter, and his mother was ENCOURAGING HIM TO GET IN THERE, and Steve is much more zen about that kind of stuff than I am, and no self-respecting 32-year old pregnant woman needs to get arrested for kicking a kid in the shins after he steals her daughter's candy, and so I sat.

Not that I was without my own fair share of entertainment, though, as the drunk woman who kept leaning on my back throughout the parade finally asked to borrow our extra chair because her 'arthritic knee' was acting up, then proceeded to jump up and down and dance in my personal space, trying to engage me in various incoherent conversations, before Brigid had FINALLY decided she'd had enough of the parade, and we packed up and headed out about three quarters of the way through the big event.
Next up is Boo at the Zoo, where I expect people to be MUCH more civilized. Or, at the very least, much less drunk. I think my odds are pretty good, here...

Babyland General

This past Sunday, after a Saturday of pumpkin picking and in an attempt to keep her from remembering she should be asking for her daddy who wasn't due home until Monday, I took Brigid to Babyland General Hospital, otherwise known as the birthplace of the Cabbage Patch Kids.

Y'all...that is one CREEPY place.

I mean, Brigid loved it, of course, because it's one big room full of toys (all of which are for sale, shockingly enough), and she even got to see the birth of a CBK from the cabbage patch itself PLUS have it named after her because my sister-in-law is a quick thinker and was able to yell out Brigid's name first during the whole naming process.

But still...creepy. That place is just creepy.

And I TOTALLY think you should go, if you ever find yourself with some free time in North Georgia, because it's still kind of awesome to relive your childhood for a few minutes, creepy or not.

And did I mention that Brigid LOVED it?

 

(Side note: Brigid had her 3-year old check-up on Monday, and I am officially unable to use her height to keep her off of rides that I don't think she'd enjoy, but that Steve seems determined to put her on. She's 37.5" and 32.2lbs. This officially makes her more than half my height, too. So, we've got that going for us, which is nice...)

Eight Years Ago...

Eight years ago, we were a couple of silly twenty-four year olds, spending the weekend in South Bend, Indiana, who got up at 6AM for an 11AM wedding, spent the early afternoon at our lunchtime reception, hit up a couple of hotel hospitality suites where our parents were hosting family members in the evening, THEN went to a bar with all of our friends who'd made the trip from various parts of the country until 2AM.

Now, we're a couple of exhausted thirty-two year old parents who consider it a moral victory if we're not asleep on the couch at 9PM on a Friday night.

 

Honestly? I think I like us better this way. Most of the time, anyway...

 

Happy anniversary, Steve! I love you, and I can't wait to see how early we're falling asleep in the next eight years!

 

(Oh, and don't forget...in two more years I'm dragging you to Vegas to renew our vows. Start working on that sleep thing now...)

Saturday at the Patch

I love fall. I love football and cooler weather and pumpkin flavored EVERYTHING. I love the changing leaves and the scent of the air and every fall activity that has ever existed. I love the start of the holiday season.

And I am beyond determined that Brigid will love all of these things, too.

Of course, birthing her in October was a stroke of genius on my part, obviously, because who doesn't love their birthday month?

But beyond that, we pack our weekends full of fun activities, starting around the end of September, just to increase that whole 'FALL IS AWESOME!!!' brainwashing thing I have going on around here. And on the schedule for this weekend?

The pumpkin patch!!!

The pumpkin patch, where Brigid picked out $40 worth of pumpkins, and I couldn't say no to a single one of them, because I liked them all, too.

The pumpkin patch, where Brigid demanded something, which, in Brigid speak, means something sweet to eat, and I responded by buying a small loaf of pumpkin bread, a fried apple pie, and a pumpkin muffin, because, again, when it comes to the pumpkin stuff, 'no' doesn't seem to be an option for me.
The pumpkin patch, where I'd love to spend the rest of my fall, if we could get that worked out. Now, who do I talk to about making this happen?

Go Irish!

As is to be expected in a household where both parents went to Notre Dame, the brainwashing has started early in these parts...

For those of you that aren't quite as familiar with the Notre Dame Victory March as Brigid is (or, you know, quite as familiar with Brigid's unique dialect as Steve and I are), the subtitles:

Cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame

Wake up the echoes, cheering her name

Send a volley cheer on high

Shake down the thunder from the sky

What though the odds be great or small

Old Notre Dame will win overall

While her loyal sons are marching

Onward to victory.

GO IRISH!!

Three Years

When I wrote, last year, about Brigid turning two, I was told that I would just absolutely love the year ahead of me, because two was really an amazing age.

And wouldn't you know it? It was, and I did.

I went from being concerned that Brigid would NEVER EVER IN HER ENTIRE LIFE WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?!?! learn to talk, to wondering just what I needed to do to make her stop talking for one minute. Just one, that's all I need.

I still haven't figured it out, so if you have the answers, please, help a lady out, ok? Also, do you know the answer to the question why? Because I don't, anymore, and it's really something I need to learn.

I know all of the jokes about the Terrible Twos, but honestly, I didn't experience that, at all. Yes, she can be trying when she won't stop asking why we're doing something over and over (and over and over and over and over) again. Yes, she needs to learn that 'I want to watch my tv, RIGHT NOW' is maybe not the best way to get mommy and daddy to agree to letting her watch ANOTHER episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Doc McStuffins instead of the football game that we're trying to watch instead. Yes, I'd appreciate it if she'd stop chucking hairbrushes at my head every night, when it comes time to brush her hair after her bath.

 

And yes, I really, REALLY wish that she'd stop crying for her daddy every single time I tell her she needs to do something that she doesn't want to do.

But I also wouldn't give up those moments of unsolicited 'I love you, mom-mom' declarations, or having her offer up a hug and kiss for no reason, or hearing her tell me, 'You have on a pretty dress/skirt/necklace/bracelet today, mommy' when I see her in the mornings or after work. Because those are the moments when I want to buy her all of the ponies in the world for being the most perfectly amazing daughter in the entire world.

 

I can't tell you how many times this past year, Steve or I would look at Brigid after a dinner out, a shopping trip, a visit to see friends, or a parade/zoo/festival type of day trip, just to tell her, 'you know what, B? you're kind of the best kid there ever was.'

 

Because she is.

And now, she's three. And things are about to get REAL crazy around our house, as Brigid has to transition from being the center of our whole world to sharing that spotlight just a bit with a new little sister. And, I think she is going to be an amazing big sister, when the time comes, because she's already told people that when the baby comes, I'm going to be around to help her take care of it.

 

I know things are going to get...interesting...for awhile, as we all try to figure out how things work in our lives with two kids around instead of one, but I honestly can't WAIT to see what new wrinkle in Brigid's personality emerges over the next year. I love watching her grow and change into the person that she is meant to be, and every time I think that I can't possibly love her any more than I do at one particular moment, I find out that I'm wrong.

 

I don't know how much bigger my heart can be expected to grow, how much more love it can hold, but I know Brigid is going to continue pushing that limit every day of her life.

She is stubborn. She is so full of attitude already that I don't even want to THINK about what might be in store for me ten years down the road. She doesn't listen to ANYTHING that Steve and I ask her to do, EVER.

 

If I tell her to clean up her mess? 'No, YOU do it."

 

She is smarter than she has any right to be at three years old, and she is already figuring out how to play Steve and I perfectly to get her way.

 

She's already kissed her first boy, for crying out loud!!

 

But...

 

She's also the sweetest kid in the world. She gets so excited over the smallest things, up to and including the time I glued the top of an acorn back to the nut after she was upset that it fell apart. She is funny. She's a performer. If she gets a laugh out of you when she does something, she's going to keep doing it. She has the Notre Dame fight song memorized, and she WILL sing it on command.

 

She is my favorite person in the whole entire world.

 

Happy birthday, Bug! I love you with all of my heart...

Week 31 Update

When I went in for my monthly check-up last week, my doctor informed me that my growth had not, as she had hoped, evened out at all, and just like when I was measuring 30 weeks at 26 weeks, I was, at that time, measuring 34 weeks at 30 weeks.

Considering my doctor was trying to 'naturally encourage' labor at 37 weeks with Brigid, just because I was measuring a week ahead of schedule, my FOUR WEEKS AHEAD OF SCHEDULE belly has her a tad concerned about what, exactly, is going on inside of me right now. Especially because I am actually weighing less with this kid than I did with Brigid, so we can't exactly blame this growth spurt on my love of chocolate milk shakes.

(Well, that's what I'm telling myself these days, anyway. Completely related, have you tried the caramel apple Milky Ways? Because they are nothing short of amazing, I swear...)

So, I've officially earned myself a previously unscheduled ultrasound visit (I KNEW when the doctor told me after my last ultrasound that they wouldn't need to see me again unless something odd came up, he was jinxing me...that ass) (just kidding, he wasn't an ass...but I still stand by my jinx claim), which is scheduled for Tuesday. Then, I'm back at my regular doctor on Thursday, because we've entered that every-two-week-check-up portion of the pregnancy, and THEN I should have a better idea of what to expect.

And, I'm not going to lie, I'm kind of expecting a 14 pound baby at this point, because if I'm measuring four weeks ahead of schedule, belly-wise, I'd think any normal sized baby would have plenty of room to stretch out and relax in her spacious home. This kid, however? Well, this kid has (for the last 24-hours straight, mind you) very painfully lodged some very hard body part directly under my ribs, and it is not comfortable, at all. In fact, I wouldn't be entirely surprised if this turns into a Kristen-Stewart-in-Twilight kind of birth at this point, because...burrowing. I swear to all that is good, this kid is burrowing her way out of my stomach as we speak.

I can't wait to see how many hits I get when we post THAT video online...

Raising Her Right

It appears that while I was off enjoying a little girls' night out in August (in the form of a Jason Mraz concert, of course, because when I party at five-months pregnant, I party hard...), my husband was introducing my daughter to the finer forms of Southern dining.

He took her to Waffle House, to be exact.

And this weekend, when we were looking for something to do for dinner on Saturday night? She requested waffles. Because, apparently, Waffle House is now her favorite restaurant.
  But...they gave her a hat. So, I guess if it comes down to waffles and a hat, it would be my favorite restaurant, too?

I really think she does this on purpose...

This morning, while Steve was in the shower:
Me: What do you want for breakfast, Bug? How about some peanut butter toast?

Brigid: No, I already had cereal.

Me: When? Today?

B: No.

Me: Ok, then. How about an egg?

B: No. I want some of that. (As she points to a bag of candy on the kitchen table...)

Me: You want some Smarties?

B: Yes.

Me: But you can't have Smarties for breakfast.

B: Why?

Me: Because you can't have candy for breakfast.

B: Why?

Me: Because those are the rules of candy.

B: I want Smarties!

Me: No.

B: (collapsing in a sobbing mess on the couch) I WANT MY DADDY!!!

Me: Daddy will tell you no, too, kiddo.

B: NO HE WON'T!!

Ten minutes later:
Steve: How about some breakfast?

Brigid: I want Smarties.

Steve: You can't have candy for breakfast. How about an egg?

Brigid: OK!

Me: (bangs my head on the wall in protest against the ridiculousness of the toddler mind...)