Cherish Every Moment

This morning, my mother-in-law and I took Caitlin to this massive garden about 30 minutes from my house, to see all of the spring daffodils before they died off. This is almost every picture I took of Caitlin:

Some ladies asked me at one point if she was running away, and I said, 'No. She's just running.' Because that is ALL. SHE. DOES. 

EVER. 

This afternoon, Brigid facetimed me (in the kitchen) from her playroom (which is JUST DOWN THE HALL FROM THE KITCHEN!!!) to tell me that she was hungry and that she wanted me to bring her a piece of string cheese. 

I, being the terrible mother that I am, made her get up and get it herself, so I hope she learned THAT is not going to fly around here, but still...

You have to admire such a dedication to 'resourcefulness' at such a young age, I guess.

Easter Egging

Brigid had so much fun with all of the Christmas activities we did in December that I've been trying to make sure I have at least a couple of activities on hand for each of the other holidays throughout the rest of the year. We always have a couple of hours in afternoon, just the two of us, when Caitlin naps after school is out, and so far, we've made valentines and spring pictures, decorated foam flowers and shamrocks, and painted wooden butterflies. With Easter coming up quickly, dying eggs was the next obvious activity choice for us to tackle. Since I didn't know when Brigid would be in the mood to dye the eggs (and then hunt for those eggs, since that's just how Brigid rolls...), I bought some of those cardboard eggs that are supposed to be dyeable, just so I wouldn't misplace a real egg somewhere in the house, then forget about it. 

Because that is absolutely something I would do, and nobody needs to stumble across something like that a few months down the road...

Anyway, the eggs took to the dye about as much as I expected, which is to say not really at all, but Brigid had fun with it, and I guess that's what matters in all of this. It's not like they have to be perfect or anything. 

(If I keep telling myself that my projects don't have to be perfect, I'll start to believe it, right?)

And now, if you'll excuse me, we're off to start training for the church Easter egg hunt, because the organizers seem to frown upon me following Brigid around and blocking her competition from finding all of the eggs, so I'm just going to have to teach her how to throw her own elbows. SOMEBODY needs to be responsible for bringing me some candy home. 

 

My Little Leprechauns!

A happy St. Patrick's Day from my favorite little Irish babies!

Snow Day! Again!

This is my 8th winter in Georgia, and thinking back on all of this time, I've realized it has snowed more years than not since that move. This?

This is not what I signed up for when I moved to the south. 

I guess it's a good thing we bought the girls cheap snow suits when we were up in Indiana at Thanksgiving, because at least they seemed to enjoy it...

(She threw that snowball at me. She's out of the will, obviously.)

She'd like you to start calling her Queen Elsa, if you don't mind.

Our trees have been ice covered since early Monday evening. It's not ideal, as the icy branches have wreaked havoc on the power lines across our county (We had no electricity overnight on Monday, but we were lucky. My in-laws STILL don't have power, almost 48 hours later.), but it's been kind of pretty (Spoken only as someone not still without power could could speak...). Plus, Brigid woke up with a fever on Tuesday morning, so all of the school and activity cancellations nicely corresponded with what would have been a couple of sick days, anyway. But still...

I'm ready for it to all go away now. 

Unfortunately, it's supposed to get down to something like 17 degrees tonight, so I doubt that's going to happen. 

Brigid, when she looked out the window yesterday and realized that the ice wasn't going anywhere, moaned, 'Why, Elsa?!? WHY?'. So at least we know who is to blame for this debacle. And at least we know the ice isn't affecting anyone's imagination around here... 

Caitlin

Enough said. 

I will never get tired of this...

Caitlin is on the move, nonstop. She jumps from one activity to another, from one place to another. She still doesn't talk, which is partially a bad thing, because she definitely should be talking by now, but also isn't the worst thing in the world, because I can't imagine how quickly her brain jumps from one idea to another, and I'm scared that once she stops talking, she won't ever stop. And honestly, Brigid talks more than enough for both of them, so I'm good with the way things are right now.

She drags Steve over to the couch the minute he gets home from work, where she'll sit with him for maybe three seconds, tops, before she jumps off the couch and runs into the other room. She doesn't even really expect him to follow her when she leaves, and I'm starting to think she just likes to know that he will be in the same place she left him, when she decides she wants to go back to him. She'll sit on the floor, and pat the spot next to her, until I sit down, too, at which point she jumps up and runs off. She brings me books to read to her, but I have to read fast, because she wants those pages turned, and she wants them turned RIGHT NOW. She wants us to sing to her while she does the hand motions she associates with the songs we're singing, but she wants to do the hand motions for the next verse of the song, not the one we're on right now, and she'll start clapping for herself when she's done with the song, not when it's actually over.

She has thoughts and opinions, and she's becoming such a little person all of a sudden. It's kind of scary.

But when she's sleepy? She'll finally slow down. She'll let me hold her, and rock her, and sing to her, and sniff her head. And then she sleeps, and she'll always be my sweet little baby.

Tattoos and all...