In the Tent

Brigid (who I swear went from 4 to 14 overnight at some point, and who I will never allow to sleep again out of fear that she'll age another 10 years on me...) wanted me to take a picture of her and her American Girl doll in their new matching pajamas, with their equally matching pink hair. Even though you can't actually see her pink hair in the pictures, I assure you, it was PINK.

And then, I noticed Caitlin...

Seriously. That is just so...Caitlin. I love that kid and all of her goofy ways.

The Next Steps

Steve and I have spent the last few months talking about how we maybe wanted to move someplace else in the greater-Atlanta area, preferably someplace a little less expensive, but with better schools, because while we have a great elementary school a quarter of a mile away from our house, the middle school we roll up into leaves a little more to be desired. And well, doesn't it possibly make sense to make the move now, before the girls get even more entrenched in the friend base their building where we are?

It does make some sense, but that hasn't made the decision making process any easier, and we kind of thought we'd put it on the backburner until spring. But, houses are selling right now, and interest rates are still low, and well...

We had a realtor out to our house last night, and we committed to her that we'd spend the next month getting the house showable, so we could list with her on September 1st. Ish.

And then we told Brigid that we were maybe going to go look for a new house, and she told us she didn't want to move because she loved her bed and would miss all of her toys.

I guess we're maybe going to have to work on our communication a little bit with that one...

The Obligatory Sleep Post

If you were to take my camera, flip through the thousands* of pictures of Brigid and Caitlin that are currently on it, you would come to two conclusions. One, that Brigid is a handful. And two, that Caitlin does nothing but sleep.

On conclusion number one, you'd be right. Case in point? Yesterday's post. That picture of Brigid getting all attitude-y on me? I have many, many, MANY more of those at my disposal, because that girl spends MOST of her time getting attitude-y on me. Especially when the camera comes out.

But conclusion number two? Well, that one, sadly, couldn't be further from the truth. This nap?

It lasted 15 minutes, at the most. In fact, a majority of Caitlin's naps last about 15-20 minutes at the most. Coming from the land of Brigid, where naps generally hit a minimum of two hours, I do not approve of a baby that only sleeps 40 minutes a day. On a good day.

And at night? When you'd expect her to make up for her terrible daytime behavior? Well...

She could definitely be worse. But she does this thing, where she'll sleep through until 7-8am one night, then wake up between 4am and 6am the next two or three nights, like she's a sleep-storing camel that managed to bank enough good hours to hold her over for the rest of the week. And as I am not such a camel, I'm not such a fan of this practice, either.

This is one of the few times I actually think I'm looking forward to her teenaged days, because I am going to screw with her SO HARD at 6am every weekend...

(WHY DOES SHE NOT LIKE TO SLEEP?!?!? LOOK HOW CUTE SHE IS WHEN SHE DOES IT!! I swear, if she could just SEE how absolutely adorable she is when she's sleeping, she'd want to do it more often.)


*Yes, thousands. I really need to get those off of my phone and backed up on something a little more reliable, and less likely to get stolen or misplaced, don't I?

Baby's First Banana

I tried to feed Caitlin a bit of a banana earlier this week, and she was, uh, a little less than sure about the whole thing.
Then again, last night, she kept me up for two hours while she took almost 10oz of formula, so...kid's gonna have to get on the solid food train reeeeeeal quick at this point, because a) Hanging out in the nursery from 2am to 4am is not my idea of a good time, CAITLIN, and b) 10oz bottles, on a regular basis, means I'm spending this child's college fund on formula, and...no. Just no.

And I can't believe she's turning her nose up at my banana offering. I feel like that HAS to taste better than anything else she's eaten before now, right? Honestly, I'd forgotten just how frustrating this whole feeding-the-kid thing can be. At this point, I'm just about to hand her a slice of pizza and tell her to have at it.

Maybe I'll give that a shot this weekend. I'm sure she'll be fine...

Brigid's Best Friend

Brigid has taken quite a shine to our female cat over the past few months. Because Gracie is less excitable than our dogs, but friendlier than our male cat, Brigid can lock the poor cat in her room for naptime or bedtime, and Gracie is ok with this plan. But...then Brigid got tired of just sitting next to the cat. Instead, she wanted to pet her. And pick her up. And carry her from room to room.

And that doesn't even include the time she slammed Gracie in the door. I don't think that cat came out from under my bed for something like two days. Not that I blamed her, as Brigid was standing there in my bedroom waiting for her, yelling about how she needed Gracie to come out because 'I need to tell Gracie I'm sorry, mommy! I didn't mean to hurt her!'

I don't think Gracie quite understood what Brigid wanted to say.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I've noticed a little more reluctance on the part of Gracie to spend quality time with Brigid these days. And then? This morning?

I found this in my bathroom while Brigid was running around my bedroom:
I'm not going to lie...I've tried something similar myself. But it never seems to work for me, you know? They always find me in the end...

The Progression of a Stomach Virus

At bedtime on Friday night, Steve and I were informed by Brigid that she wanted to dance before bed.

So, we put in the Disney Princess CD we stole from my mother the last time we were in Indiana, and off she went. These are Brigid's ballet moves, by the way. You can't see her ballet shoes in this picture, but she has them on. She's also on her toes, with her arms above her head, spinning until she falls over. She's quite graceful, this child of mine...
Brigid went to sleep relatively easily (by her current standards, anyway), but she was up again at 1AM, asking for her daddy. Steve went in to try to calm her down, but she wasn't having any of that. She kept telling us her stomach hurt, her throat hurt, she wasn't tired, etc. She has a list of ailments, that kid, and she won't stop running through them until we give in to whatever it is she's asking for. None of those things on her list ever turn out to be anything more than an attempt to stall at bedtime, however, so we generally ignore her.

Except...she was up again fifteen minutes later. And then twenty minutes after that. Always with the fake crying, and the 'my belly hurts', and the not wanting to sleep. And I started getting mad, because COME ON, KID! YOU MAY NOT BE TIRED. BUT WE ARE.

Then, around 2AM, the crying changed to something more shrill. And real. And I walked in to find that she had thrown up all over herself and her bed. So...apparently her stomach DID hurt this time?

Mother of the year, right here, huh?

Brigid went into the bathtub so Steve could hose her down, I stripped the sheets and did my first of 3-4 loads of vomit laundry, and Brigid and I set up a sleep-over on the floor. Because, for me, cleaning the carpet seemed like a better idea than remaking the bed a hundred times.

And at 4AM, someone was feeling surprisingly chipper after having thrown up twice in the last two hours.
Apparently, Brigid's way of fighting the sickness was just to fight sleep. because, if you don't go to sleep, you can't wake yourself up by vomiting. I'd say this was a smart move, but no sleep for Brigid meant no sleep for me, and no. Just...no.

She was also afraid that I'd sneak out of the room once she fell asleep, and she wasn't too excited to see that happen, either.

(It didn't happen, by the way. I stayed in there all night with her. And apparently, this was a shockingly big deal to her, because every time someone asks her who she slept with when she was sick, she replies, 'Mommy! And I woke up with her, too!' I honestly don't know whether this is a positive or negative commentary on my parenting skills...)
She woke up for good around 7:15, so we moved the slumber party to the couch. And Peyton replaced me as the guardian.

And then Brigid threw up again, and I was tired of washing nightgowns, so we made her put real clothes on.
And by noon, the night before had finally caught up to us. Not pictured here? Me passed out on the other end of the couch. Steve sent a SUPER flattering shot to his family of me and Brigid both sleeping, in which my stomach is hanging out of my shirt just as much as hers is, but since this is MY blog? It's not getting posted. I'm sure Steve will send it to you if you want to mock me relentlessly, however.

And then, just like that, she woke up later that afternoon, 95% back to normal. And now I'm 10% convinced that she faked it all just to get me to sleep on the floor with her.

(Ok, I'm not convinced of that. It was a legitimate illness. I think. But she IS an evil super-genius, so I wouldn't put anything past her, really...)

This kid...

This is the kid that sticks her tongue out at us and blows a raspberry every time we tell her to do something she doesn't want to do.

This is the kid that told me on Monday, when I was taking her upstairs for her nap, that she didn't like me very much, but that she'd like me more when she woke up.

This is the kid that was told she needed to eat her lunch first, but that she could take the cookies that came with her lunch home with her in the car, only to respond, 'I don't think that sounds like a very good idea.'

This is the kid whose main method of negotiation is to just repeat 'BUT I WANT IT!' over and over and over again, in the hopes that you will finally give her whatever toy/piece of candy/block of television time it is that she wants.
This is also the kid that told us, when I finally got home to her and Steve last night, 'I'm so happy everyone is home!'

And the one that has started to refer to 'her baby' (as she's been calling her soon-to-arrive baby sister) as Caitlin, because that is the name she likes the best.

And the one that, every once in awhile, will bust out with the sweetest 'I love you mommy (or daddy)' that you've ever heard, completely out of nowhere.

What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that we won't be selling her to the gypsies any time soon.

(But also that I haven't COMPLETELY ruled out the prospect, because, seriously, if I have to have the conversation one more time about how YOU SHOULDN'T LIKE POOPING IN YOUR PANTS, YOU WEIRD LITTLE THING, I'd like to have my options open...)

Vacation 'Memories'

On the trip back to Atlanta from Florida, Steve asked Brigid what her favorite part of the ocean was, and Brigid, adorable little scamp that she is, told us it was going potty in it. Because that, apparently, is what she remembers most of the six days we were at the beach...

Me teaching her that she could go potty in the ocean if it meant that my pregnant self did not have to walk her back to the beach house every time she needed to go.

(So, who is holding onto my mother of the year trophy for me, again?)

And that, my friends, is how my darling husband ended up spending our first two days back at home trying to brainwash our daughter into thinking her favorite part of our trip was 'finding seashells', because we weren't sure what the preschool teacher would think of us teaching our kid to go potty in the ocean, in the event she happened to ask Brigid the very specific 'what was your favorite part of the ocean?' question.





It did not come up in conversation when I picked Brigid up this afternoon, so I'm just going to assume that our little secret is safe for now. Because, obviously, the preschool teacher that I've met all of three times now would absolutely call me out on Brigid peeing in public if it had come up at any point today, right?

Right.

(Wrong. Still, I don't think it would have come up. So, we're fine...for now. I wouldn't put it past Brigid to bring it up completely out of the blue a month from now, though. She's sneaky like that...)

The Bump: (almost) 25 Weeks

I've done an absolutely terrible job of documenting this pregnancy around here, what with my all-consuming desire to just get these nine months over with already, so I can move on to the sweet and squishy OMG LITTLE BABY YAY FOR BABIES!!$#*&!*%! portion of the party, but yeah...
Let me introduce you to Big Hoss, my very pronounced baby bump. BH and I aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. I mean, she's doing what she needs to be doing, what with all of the healthy baby growing and whatnot that's happening right now, but did we really need to get THAT BIG, THAT QUICKLY, there, buddy? I am NOT exaggerating when I say that I know three people who are due before me (INCLUDING ONE PERSON WHO IS HAVING TWINS, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD), and I've got them ALL beat on the size of my stomach.

Fifteen weeks to go, kids. Fifteen weeks to go.

Now, who wants to start taking bets on how many times Hoss and I get stuck in our beach chair while we're off on vacation next week?

Many Faces

Brigid had a dentist appointment on Monday morning, and she was a total superstar, with only one minor breakdown when the hygienist rubbed the flouride stuff all over her teeth.

And really, if you've tasted that fake bubble gum flavored crap, you really don't blame her for that small crying jag, do you?

Anyway...what better way to celebrate a teeth cleaning than by undoing all of that hard work in the dentist's office with a trip for gummi bear topped ice cream?

I still taste that flouride. I sure wish my mom would do something to make this all go away...

GUMMI BEARS!!!! ON ICE CREAM!!! Score.

Gee, mom! You're totally the best.

I am the luckiest girl in the whole wide world. With the best mom, ever.

Wait? WHAT? I have to SHARE this ice cream with you? That's total BS, mom.

Total. BS.

Long October

I know I've said this before, but it deserves repeating: my husband and I are BIG Halloween people.

Well, Steve is a big Halloween person. I just like any opportunity to decorate my house in crazy ways, and after several years of marriage, he finally pulled me away from the cutesy fun of Happy Halloween, Y'all! (which was the extent of my neighbors' decorating plans last year and also very nearly the end of our friendship, sadly) (ok, no, not really...but don't think we haven't considered decorating their house for them, just to keep up appearances) and into the dark and creepy side of things.

And honestly, I'm sad I'd never given in before. Because giving into a haunted house meant several husband-sanctioned shopping trips to creepify the place up all that much more. And that is ALWAYS a fun time...

But beyond our crazy obsession, Brigid was always ok with this. The creepy stuff just didn't seem to bother her, at all. I mean, this is the kid who had a Nightmare Before Christmas themed second birthday and latched on to a fake skull as something she HAD TO HAVE on a shopping trip to Target. As long as it didn't jump out at her suddenly, it was cool.

Unfortunately, I think that easy-going luck of ours may have finally and fully run out, as my poor kid began to cry HYSTERICALLY in a Hallmark store today when she caught sight of Snoopy in a Halloween mask.

Snoopy. In a Halloween mask.

Hysterical tears of fear.

This probably means she's not going to be a huge fan of the zombie farmers on our front porch come October, doesn't it?

Let Down

My parents have been in town for the last few days, handling bedtime routines, helping me sort through baby clothes, entertaining Brigid while I nap, and doing all of those other things that parents are awesome about doing when they're visiting from out of town.

But they left today.


We all miss them already.

On a sort of related note, because my parents have been in town, I've been TERRIBLE about promoting this, but I'm hosting a giveaway right now (here!!!) for an eight person party pack that you should ABSOLUTELY enter, because your chances are ridiculously high of winning. So...GO! ENTER! WIN!

Holiday Blues

The last parade Brigid went to was the Halloween parade across town, this past October. And for that parade, we took her plastic trick-or-treat pumpkin, stood in the middle of the street, and stocked up on candy that absolutely none of us needed, but also candy that none of us could actually say no to when it came flying at us from the passing floats.

So, we were expecting big things from the 4th of July parade we hit up yesterday. In fact, Brigid wanted to bring her plastic pumpkin with her to the big event, but Steve talked her out of it at the last minute.

And it's a good thing, too, since there was NO CANDY at this parade. NONE. There was every, single, freaking politician under the sun at the parade, but no candy.

Brigid was distraught.

'Me can't look at you. Me no have candy.'

(Seriously...that's a direct quote from little miss thing, here.)

Lucky for us, there were some leftover Smarties and a Blow Pop in her diaper bag that we'd scored from my parents' house in Indiana, previously intended for use as air-plane-quiet bribes. We pretended to find them on the ground, and all was right with the world.

But really? Who has a parade with no candy?

Traveling in Style

Roadtrips would have been so much more entertaining as a kid if they'd been done barefoot, on a plane, with access to an iPad.

(Also, Brigid is lucky we had a row of three all to ourselves. As cute as I find toddler feet, I'm not sure that any other passenger sitting close to us would necessarily agree...)


 

This weekend...

My baby sister graduated high school.

Brigid behaved during the ATL to IND plane ride, the actual graduation ceremony, the graduation open house, and the return plane trip.

(Minus that bathroom trip when landed in Atlanta, where Brigid wanted to sit on the bathroom floor while I was trying to pull her shorts up, and I am so mean because I wouldn't let her do that, so she tried to bite me. Other than that...)

I got to spend some quality time with my immediate family.

I was able to see the extended family I missed when I was home last Christmas, because Brigid was vomiting all over my aunt and uncle's house, and that I will miss again this Christmas, since I won't be doing much traveling, come November/December.

My favorite high school teacher stopped by my sister's open house to chat for a few minutes, and it was so very, very good to see her again.

(This would be the poor lady who had me, my middle sister, and my youngest sister all for English at some point or another, before finally retiring this year. I'm still not entirely sure if she just couldn't handle one more of us ladies, or if she was just waiting to complete the set before she moved on...I'd like to think it was the latter, but my sister is a huge pain in the butt, so I don't know for sure...)

Steve was able to make the 2 1/2 hour trek away from my parents' house, to spend a ridiculous amount of money on a ridiculous amount of beer (albeit really, really good beer) from a highly rated micro-brewery in northern Indiana.

All in all, I'd say it was a pretty successful weekend, for all of us.

And now, to forget that I won't be able to get back up there for another year or so...

Sad.

Congratulations, Aunt Mary!! We are so very, very proud of you! Good luck in college next year, and don't do anything I wouldn't do ;)

Who wants to hang out with us this weekend?

Brigid woke up yesterday in the early stages of a cold-type sickness with mild fever that left her crabby, uninterested in food, and congested enough during naptime that fighting said nap led to coughing led to vomiting in bed led to falling asleep on the couch, sitting up.
I've already felt less than stellar this week, so Steve volunteered to take on the overnight toddler shift, so I didn't also come down with whatever plague it is she's carrying this time.

Steve is now fighting a combination platter of a sleepless night that involved getting up every hour or two with a stuffy Brigid and his already suspect immune system, so I'd imagine it's just a matter of time before he's down for the count, too.

We are not a family that handles sickness well, and I'd venture to say that preschool is going to be a terrible, terrible time for us all, come this fall.

Send chicken soup and tissues, please...and maybe a nanny who will tuck us all into bed for the weekend?

Thanks.

PT update...and some in-progress bedroom pictures

So far, today, Brigid has successfully asked to go to the bathroom twice, plus once urged me that she needed to go and we'd better hurry, only to show me that she had, in fact, already done her #2 business in her drawers. But still...

Two out of three ain't bad.

Add to that the fact that we spent almost all of Sunday out of the house without an accident, and the dry pull-up that she woke up in this morning, and I'm starting to think she may, at least a bit, have an understanding of how this whole potty thing should work.

So...woo!

And, because I know the trials and tribulations of my daughter's bathroom habits probably aren't as thrilling to you as they are to me, Steve took a couple of cell phone pictures of Brigid's still-a-little-in-progress new room:








I'll take some actual pictures, in decent light, once we add the last few touches to the room, but I think it's safe to say that I am beyond happy with how everything turned out...

Shhh....

Don't say it too loudly, because you might spook her, but Brigid has gone two days (nights not included) with no diaper. Two days, two dry naps, two small accidents.

Well, one small accident. I think yesterday's accident involved the brown stuff, so there's nothing small about that.

But still...

Two days. INCLUDING A TRIP TO MCDONALD'S!!! A trip out of the house, with no accident.

I. Am. Pumped.

I might also be overreacting just a bit, but after the sleep regression we've been dealing with this past week, I will take whatever awesome win I can get. And two days of no diapers seems like a win to me.

Now, if we could just tackle that big girl bed situation...

This and That

A few things for Friday:

* Somebody, somewhere, has taught my child that gummy candies belong in her ice cream. I'd like to lodge a formal parenting complaint against this development, because...no.

* Brigid and I are heading to the beach tomorrow to crash my parents'/sister's spring break trip for a few days. There will be three of us in the Bug going down to Florida, as my sister has agreed to help me entertain the two-year old beast for the southbound portion of the trip, but I am on my own for the return leg. So if you have any happy thoughts to spare on Tuesday...send them my way.

* On a related note, I totally plan to take Mary (my lovely sister) and Brigid cruising along the Panama City Beach strip in my convertible. Because every high school senior wants to spend spring break cruising with a two-year old, right? At the very least, it would have to be better than the spring break we took my mom's mini van (and my mom and dad and other sister) out and about...

* Gummy bears. In ice cream. I just don't know about that kid...

* Steve is on his own this weekend, with Brigid and I off frolicking on the beach, so if you happen to drive by my house and notice a raging party taking place, could you call me and let me know? You never know with him...

* I'm really having a problem getting over this gummy bear thing. I mean, seriously. Ew.

Perspective

I know my poor dog is not the most favorite animal around these parts, mostly because she's the most obnoxiously annoying dog in the HISTORY of dogs, but you know what?

Brigid kind of likes her...


And that's good enough for me.