Let's even things up some, shall we?

I was told by my mother that it really wasn't fair for me to post so many pictures of Brigid yesterday, without including at least ONE of Miss Caitlin, if only to prove that I wasn't out taking Brigid for a walk while I left Caitlin sleeping alone in the house (I mean, that part wasn't explicitly stated, but I'm sure that's what she was getting at...*), and I realized she was probably right. My poor youngest child is already going to be suffering from birthday party envy as soon as she learns to understand what she's looking at in the various picture books we have lying around here and there, so do I really want her to think I couldn't be bothered taking pictures of her every other day of the year, too?

No. No, I do not.

Oh, that kid. She is so very, very cute. And...so very, very BLONDE.

Seriously. Where in the world did that come from? Why don't either one of my kids look like me in any way, shape, or form? This is so ridiculously unfair.


*I know that's not what my mother was getting at. She just wanted to see pictures of what used to be her youngest granddaughter, but is now her middle granddaughter, as my younger sister just added a THIRD GRANDDAUGHTER to the family. My parents are so excited about spoiling another little girl, and I ABSOLUTELY can't wait to get up to Indiana at the end of April to meet my very first niece. BABY!!!

Double Standards

I think it's only fair to note that my mother, she of the 'don't put anything on your walls' rule of my childhood (unless that wall was the inside of your closet door, or when I lucked into the room with the biggest closet after we moved right before I went into high school, the walls of the closet itself), bought two packs of princess decals for Brigid to, you know, PUT ON HER WALLS.

I'm starting to think that being a grandparent is just one long exercise in thinking up fun ways to pay your kid back for being such a turd as she was making her way through the obnoxiously grouchy and pain-in-the-butt-y teen years.

Well played, MOM. Well played...

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...)

It's not all bad...

I think I've spent most of this week complaining about the crazy toddler that has taken over our lives, but I'd hate to give you all the impression that it's nothing but seat kicking and conference call screaming.

Because you know what?

We have some pretty good times around here, too.

As long as B is well rested, anyway...

(Please note that all of these pictures were taken on the way out to Indiana, before Nana and Papa got their hands on the little miss, and wore her out completely, leaving me with that seat kicker I may have mentioned once or twice before...)

What do they remember?

The last time Steve and I took Brigid to the zoo, the first place her and Steve went was the petting zoo area, and being the mom that I am, I immediately wiped the poor child down from head to toe with a sanitary wipe. And Brigid proceeded to carry that wipe with her the rest of the time we were at the zoo, occasionally wiping her own hands as we went along.

That was a month and a half ago.

When we went back this past weekend, the moment we walked into the gate, Brigid dug into her diaper bag, pulled out that container of wipes, and refused to put it back until I gave her one of the wipes. And she did not put that wipe down until we left the zoo at the end of the day. She wiped her hands, my hands, Steve's hands, and my mom's, my dad's, and my sister's hands. She was crazy with that wipe.

And after the zoo, we went out to eat, at which point Brigid wanted a new wipe, which she used to wipe off the table in front of her. It was like a mini version of my mom running around.

(or a mini version of me running around...although I'd never admit it...)

Oh, that kid...she picks up on everything. I'm going to have to start watching myself around her from now on!

Don't forget to check out today's post at Style Lush, where I talk about my issues with plants, and how I'm slowly overcoming them with the help of ice...

Houseguests...

We've spent all night and all morning cleaning for my parents' visit this weekend, but it's finally done! My house is presentable!

Brigid is exhausted.

Best Friends

See, Mom? 

I told you Brigid and Riley were getting along beautifully!

Happy Monday to all!

Baby's first zoo visit!

I've been very down on Atlanta weather lately.  I mean, I didn't move across several states, away from family, away from friends, just to spend a week snowed in because someone decided that Georgia needed inches and inches of snow.  And granted, the inches of snow we received one time this winter is much more tolerable than the multiple cases of snow that my former addresses have experienced this winter, but I wanted NO snow.  No snow at all.

Enter my surprise weekend of 70 degree and sunny weather.  This weather?  This is more like it, people!

We celebrated by taking Brigid to the zoo for the first time.  And by shelling out the big bucks for the annual zoo pass, which includes free guest passes that my parents will be expected to use when they stop in for their day or two lay-over in Atlanta during spring break.  See, mom and dad?  I can too plan exciting events for your visits!!

In a nutshell?  Brigid laughed at the flamingos, stared down the orangutans, and fell in love with a potbelly pig.  And I avoided the petting zoo like the plague (which it basically is!!!), so as to avoid being the crazy woman spraying hand sanitizer on the animals before Brigid touched them.  Instead, I chose to wait right outside the gate of the pen, with a Wet One at the ready.

I mean, seriously...you can only expect me to fight the crazy for so long!

Conversations With My Mom

A little background for this conversation...I come from a relatively small town. We have two malls, but one of the malls consists of an Elder Beerman, and I think that's about it. Oh wait, I think there's a Sears there, too. Or maybe it's a JC Penney. I can't remember now... Let's just say, it's not too well visited. In fact, if you're looking to get your picture taken with Santa Claus on Christmas Eve with your two sisters to surprise your parents one year, not realizing that it would become a tradition that would be repeated every year you make it back to Indiana for Christmas (a fact which I love, but annoys my grinch of a husband, who finds it weird or something that a 30-year old, a 25-year old, and a 16-year old still want to see Santa Claus), it's the perfect place to go. Because even on Christmas Eve? The only people in the mall are the mall walkers.

Any-who...my mom called last night from Indiana to see how Brigid's appointment with our fancy big city Santa went on Sunday.

Mom: So, how did Brigid do with Santa Claus this weekend? Was it worth all of the hassle you went through?

Me: It was no hassle, really. And Brigid was fine. No smiles or anything, but no crying either.

Mom: Were there other people getting their Santa pictures taken?

Me: Yes. It wasn't too crowded, but there were definitely other kids there.

Mom: I can't believe you went to see Santa this early.

Me: Well, Brigid won't remember anyway, and I'm going to have the cutest freaking Christmas cards, ever. So there.

Mom: Was the Santa at least a good Santa?

Me: Yes, he was great.

Mom: Better than the Santa here?

Me: Better than St. Nicotine? (Ed Note: That would be our loving nickname for my hometown Santa, since his beard has that slight 'I just stepped out for my every-15-minute smoke break' yellow tinge to it) Yes, I'd say he was better.

Mom: I find that hard to believe. I'll bet your Santa won't remember you coming to see him every year, like ours does.

Me: Mom, I'm pretty sure that has more to do with having three grown girls come to see him every year than it does with his qualities as Santa Claus.

Mom: Well, you're probably right...

Aaaaand, scene! Of course I'm right! Ask Steve...I'm always right. Especially when it comes to Christmas logic.

Moral of the story? My hometown is awesome, and there is nothing wrong with visiting Santa every year, no matter how old you are.

I love Christmas!