Yo.

This week has been a crazy week. The holiday weekend threw me for a complete loop, schedule-wise, on the things I typically do around the house, because I chose fun over laundry. And I don't regret it, except for the part where Caitlin has no clean sheets or sleep sacks right now, because I'm a little behind on keeping her crap clean. Then there is this big deadline at work this week, which my team will most definitely not meet for reasons so far out of our control that we more or less knew that the deadline wouldn't be met before it was even set, but it's driven by senior management, so set it, we did. And I'm already working from home on Mondays and Fridays, so I can keep an eye on the girls, and while I do get work done, my productivity levels are nowhere near where they are when I'm in the office, so I have to cram a lot into my days, Tuesday through Thursday. Which usually works for me, except when there's a big deadline and I also end up missing one of those office days because Brigid is sick and I have to take her in to see the pediatrician for a strep test.

So. It's been fun.

Let's all just admire this super-cool baby, ok?

(In a true testament to how busy things have been for us lately, I have to take Caitlin in for her 18-month check-up on Monday, and I have completely forgotten to fret over how not-vocal she is at this stage. And by not-vocal, I mean she uses no words. Because we hear from her plenty, it's just never anything more than an indignant screech over our failure to read her mind and provide her with whatever it is that she wants without her actually having to ask for it. I'm just so relieved that she's actually walking now, saving me from that explanation, that this next milestone hasn't even registered with me, yet. Whatever. She'll get there when she gets there, I guess.

Oh, second kids...so much fun.)

Princess Life

At one point in time, I thought I was going to be able to keep Brigid away from the evil clutches of the Disney empire. I thought I would be able to protect her from annoying 16-year old mermaids that were willing to throw away their entire (very nice, I might add) lives for some stupid boy they'd never even exchanged ONE SINGLE SOLITARY WORD WITH. I thought maybe I wouldn't have to try to explain to her why Disney hates mothers so much. I thought there was a chance that I could send my child to college AND retire some day, instead of spending one of those funds to keep said child ensconced in all things Disney-logo-ed.

I was wrong.

And honestly, I haven't been too upset about it. I mean, yes, I still have ISSUES with that mermaid, and Disney's hate has spread to all parents now, not just moms. But the rest of it? Well, Brigid looks pretty cute in all things Disney, so I don't mind that she's going to have to rely on her looks in life instead of her brain when we can't afford to send her to college in 14 years. (Because you'd better believe that retirement fund is not going ANYWHERE, mkay?) I want to go to Disney World for Halloween this year, then back for Christmas again next year. I have a hula dancing Olaf on my desk, and I just barely talked myself out of buying a singing, stuffed version of him for myself, as well. I think it's safe to say I've had my fair share of the kool-aid at this point.

My only regret? The Merida wig.

I have nightmares about this wig. I don't know why...it just scares me, and she scares me in it. Thankfully, she doesn't wear it often, and I'd sneak it out and into the garbage if I wasn't 100% sure that the moment I did, she'd ask to wear it again just to spite me. And then there'd be yelling and crying and fussing and somehow Steve would end up buying her a new one just to appease the beast. And nobody needs to be spending money on a 2nd creepy wig around here.

So. It sits. On the shelf in her closet. Where she will hopefully forget about it for awhile. Until she remembers she has it. And my nightmare starts again.

Twinsies!

Brigid is at an age where dressing to match her sister is fun for her, while Caitlin is at an age where she can't fight me on what she's wearing. And because I'm afraid that neither of them will be in these current stages for long, I'd like to take advantage of it as much as I can.

Little girls! In matching outfits! I am sorry, but there is nothing NOT cute about that occurrence. Even when the little girls in question are making goofy faces, like so...

(Why could I not just get ONE PICTURE with both of them smiling in a normal way at the same time? I took about 25 pictures, and THESE WERE THE BEST IN THE BUNCH. Come on, ladies, work with me, here. Although in that first picture? The one where Caitlin looks like she's about to go all celebrity-attacking-paparazzi on me? I might get that one framed. It's just so Caitlin...)

(Brigid has deep thoughts that need to be thunk, ok? She would prefer it if we would just leave her alone, already.)

Sisterly Love or WWE Wrestling?

Honestly, most days I just can't tell the difference.

(Until someone starts crying, that is. Crying is usually the dead giveaway that it's not sisterly love that's happening in my house at that moment. Not freely given sisterly love, anyway...)

Houdini

The other night, while we were in Caitlin's room going through her lengthy post-bath/pre-bedtime book reading and toy playing routine, she opened the door from her room into the bathroom, and I swore a lot of swear words. Loudly.

Because while Brigid has always been relatively well-behaved and has (up until these last few months, anyway) tended to listen to us when we've told her no, Caitlin has never really had any moment when the word no has made any sense to her, other than already knowing that if she makes a really sad face and starts crying when she hears it, she can at least get hugs out of the deal. And while we have no hope in stopping her, we have at least managed to contain her behind closed doors, when we just haven't had to energy to stop her in her quest to destroy every room of the house on a daily basis. And now that hope is gone. GONE, I TELL YOU.

Oddly enough, my dogs ALSO know how to open these doors, and we're already in the habit of keeping our back door locked, so various creatures currently living in my house can't let themselves in and out of it without my knowledge. And while I'm fairly confident I don't have to worry about the dogs learning to unlock the doors in order to get them open, I'm guessing I don't have that luxury with Caitlin, and she'll learn to use that lock well before I'm ready for that to happen.

I'm going to have to take a page from my friend Jen's book, and deadbolt every door in the house, at Steve's height level or something, just to keep her from wandering the neighborhood on her own.

She's going to be...fun...as she gets older, I think.

Tattletale

Today was the Mother's Day event at Brigid's school, and oh! is it fun to go to school with Brigid. She is just something else sometimes, that kid.

The teachers had a little survey kind of thing that they did before the breakfast, where they asked each kid to fill in the blanks of a little blurb that was then laminated and presented to the mothers while we dined in high style on muffins and donuts, seated on tiny plastic chairs.* We were supposed to guess which one was done by our children, as they were read aloud, and even though Brigid's was the last one read, I think I would have guessed which one was meant for me even if hers had been read first.

While I basically melted over being the best ever because I give her hugs, especially because Steve was the best ever for letting her watch tv,** I still felt a little betrayed that she had to divulge my Target secret. I mean, come on...she's supposed to be on my side, here!

I sound like a pretty healthy person, though, and I am only 14 years old, so I guess she can be forgiven. Also, I'm just happy she didn't tell them about the outlet mall...




*I don't know how Steve did the dads' event, honestly. I barely fit in the chair, and I'm a foot shorter than he is...

**Steve's response when I texted him this picture before I left the school, with the simple message of 'I win!'? 'Whatever...ask her if she wants a hug or to watch tv tonight.' I...think he has a point, there.

Cuddles

Brigid slept in our bed last night, and since she was lying pretty much on top of me when my alarm went off this morning, she woke up as I tried to roll out of bed and into the shower. She asked me to cuddle with her, I told her I had to get into the shower. She asked me to come back to cuddle with her when I was done with my shower, I told her I had to go to work. She fussed at me, then fell back asleep.

She's lucky she's cute.

(And because my mom gets mad when I post picture of only one of them...this one is pretty cute, too.)

Spring!

When I really think about it, I realize that I haven't had a usable backyard since I moved out of my parents' house all of those many years ago. From the time I was about 11 or 12, we lived out in the middle of the Indiana cornfields, on five acres that included an orchard and a pond. And I kind of hated it, because it was A LOT of work. I swore that when I owned my own house, it would be a house without any yard work.

Then, after college, I got my wish, as Steve and I moved into a house with no real yard to speak of in Cincinnati, following that up with a really terrible yard at our first house in Atlanta. And while I didn't really mind it when it was just Steve and I running around (I'm not exactly what one might call an outside person, unless that outside involves a beach or a pool or a lake or some other body of water), when Brigid became old enough to ask to play outside, I kind of felt bad that she didn't have a great option to do so.

We definitely made up for it in the new house, which is not only on a cul-de-sac that's perfect for riding bikes/scooters/motorized jeeps/any other form of child approved transportation, but also has a pretty big backyard, too, with plenty of space for Brigid to plant her own flower garden AND her own vegetable garden AND maybe even get a swing set of her very own someday.

Oh, and Caitlin seems to enjoy it, too.

I think we made the right decision.

(Then again, I'm not the one mowing the thing, so maybe take my opinion with a grain of salt?)