PJ turns three

Oh sweet baby girl. I can’t believe you are three today. It just seemed like yesterday that you shot yourself into this world.

It was a Tuesday. I decided when I awoke I wanted to take the day off from work. I figured I didn’t have much time left and I wanted to treat myself to a free day. My thoughts were that I could drop CT off at daycare, head to the gym for a while and then come home and just relax.

I called Sara, our backyard neighbor at the time who was acting as our doula at your birth, to let her know what was going on. Thank god she had the sense to have me get my things together and drive me to the hospital. You were born two hours later and your father just made it to our bedside with only moments to spare.

You, my little pink loving puff, are an amazing girl. You have fight. You have spirit. You have humor in spades. You have tenderness, but one must be patient to see it and watch closely or you’ll miss it. And when you are the lucky recipient of your affection, it is truly a special gift.

I love you, I love you, I love you my sweet.

Teeth are not for biting!

Yesterday, PJ got a taste of her own medicine…KP bit her. And, if you can’t see it clearly in the photo, there are seven little teeth marks for all seven of his little teeth. Now, she knows how other kids feel when she bites them.

Will this teach her? The jury is still out. Using this situation as a teaching tool, we talked about biting and how very much it hurts and how we DO NOT BITE!!! I could tell she was with me until her eyes glanced down; she touched her red and swollen bite, looked at me and said “He should do it on this side too, so this owie has a friend to play with.”

God help me.

Calling all biters

If you have a child who bites, live in the Twin Cities area and want to give your biter a taste of their own medicine, please call me at
1-800-BITEBACK. I would love to set-up a playdate with you.

All forms must be completed before the playdate starts, especially the one that releases me from any damages due to broken skin and bruising that my child will most likely inflict on your child while the playdate is in session.

She is cute and knows how to have fun, but may be potentially dangerous!

How high is too high?

PJ loves to swing high. High enough so she catches air on the back end and front if luck is on her side. I am happy to push her that high; it evokes such wonderful laughter I just can’t resist. So, I am not one to judge other parents pushing techniques, or how high they push their kids, because mine looks as though she may be the next kid at the park to go to the ER due to a swing related injury. However, when I saw this guy (he stood about 6 ½ feet tall) at the park with his kids, I thought to myself…now that just might be a touch too high.

Just another little ditty

I have to admit, I am a song maker-upper. Even though I have not been blessed with a good singing voice, I do it anyway. I sing them quiet and I sing them loud. I sing about nothing at all, I sing to make the kids laugh and I sing to make me not go soooooo crazy.

The following is the last song I made up. It was sung to PJ. You may take the liberty of choosing any melody you like when you read/sing it:

We
We
We don’t stick our fingers
We
We
We don’t stick our fingers
We
We
We don’t stick our fingers in our vaaaaginaaaaas!

Repeat

Kurt Cobain’s love child

Shhhh, don’t tell anyone. OK?

A moment in time

This past weekend, our family made it to church. Let me tell you that does not happen very often. When we do get there, I like to think of it as a little break. CT gets pawned off to Sunday school, PJ goes to the nursery and KP stays with us in Adams arms. So, I get a solid hour of no one tugging, clawing or drooling on me. But this past Sunday, PJ did not want to go to the nursery. I made it very clear that she would have to remain quiet and still throughout church, or she could not stay with us. PJ…quiet…still, those three words just don’t go together, EVER. She is a flurry of motion, action and continual stuttering discussion of all things real and or make-believe. After my expectations were clearly laid out, we entered the church. I sat down. She sat on my lap. She sat quietly on my lap. She sat peacefully on my lap. She let me hug her on my lap. She let me be with her on my lap. She let me enjoy her on my lap. She let me have her for a whole hour…just her and me. It was delicious.

What died?

I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I have the most putrid, rankest, gas coming out of my ass today. Maybe it was the behemoth piece of red meat that I ate last night, or the many glasses of red wine that complimented that meat so fully, or the dozen or so Girl Scout cookies that finished off the meal so completely. Whatever it is, it is NASTY!

Needless to say, my sweet children who have so much unconditional love for me, sat around me in my stink, while I read them their quiet time stories. And, when I apologized for the foul stench, PJ said, “Oh mommy, it smeeels soooo nummy.”

Now THAT is love.

Bribe?

HELL YES!

This $2.50 bribe saved me from changing her diapers
ALL day long and one or two more just might make that
forever.

Potty Talk

PJ is on the potty waiting for me to wipe her bottom clean.

Me: Okay PJ, you’re all clean.

She continues sitting on the potty.

Me: I’m all done, you can get down now.

PJ: He’s not done.

Me: Uuummm, who’s not done?

PJ: Peter Pan. Peter Pan is wiping my bottom.