Oh, She's Good. She's Really Good.

Y'all! I'm so excited! All Adither gave me this blog award today!
I'm so honored because she intimidates me slightly! She's a real live published writer! Truth be told, all you published types intimidate the heck out of me! BUT, I'm still so flattered and honored and I'm passing it on to Blowtorch in the Middle. Her writing inspires me -- her haiku are amazing -- and she usually keeps me laughing as well!

I talk a lot about Bubba and conversations he and I have. I feel like Punkin has gotten short shrift somehow. But every day she's developing into her own little person so I have a feeling she'll start showing up here more often.

Punkin has been sleeping in her toddler bed for over a week now. She seems to be adjusting well. She's only fallen out of the bed once since the first couple of nights but fortunately she went right back to sleep after I picked her up, kissed her, and put her back to bed.

Occasionally she'll still cry out at night but she can usually get herself back to sleep, unless the higgie or her bear are under the bed. But even then she'll usually go right back to sleep upon retrieval of those beloved items. (THANK GOD!)

We've even established a pretty good bedtime routine:

(1) Go potty -- with pretty regular success. She's got the going part down though she hasn't yet learned to tell me when she needs to go. I think her response is sort of Pavlovian -- sit her on the potty and she goes. Funny note, if I go potty in front of her she cheers for me "Yay, Mommy go tee tee!" It makes me laugh.

(2) Brush teeth -- This used to be an absolute chore. I have been known to pin her down and pry her mouth open just to get at her teeth. Fun. Then this weekend I bought her a new toothbrush (with Little Einsteins!) and she has been sweetness and light and oh-so-cooperative ever since. If I had known that was all it would take I would have bought her a new toothbrush ages ago.

Editorial note: Sometimes a bath comes between potty and brushing teeth. Since we're having a record-breaking, fear-inducing drought I've been bathing both kids every other night unless they're just filthy when they come home. Which Punkin usually is. That girl has a good time at daycare.

(3) Read an Angelina Ballerina story for the thousandth time. Don't get me wrong, I love Angelina myself, but a little variety wouldn't do anybody any harm is all I'm saying. I still have my glider rocker in her room, but she no longer lets me sit in it while she sits in my lap. SHE sits in the glider while I sit on the floor and read to her like the peasant that I am. Here's Madame Queen II in all her glory.



And finally (4) Lights out, sound machine on "rain" setting, lullaby sung. I've been singing the first verse of "You Are My Sunshine" to her every night since she was a newborn. Occasionally she makes me throw in "Row Row Row Your Boat" or "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" -- but ONLY if you pronounce it "twinkie," NOT "twinkle" for some reason known only to toddlers.

But here's where her mad skillz as a master manipulator have really come to the fore. After we sing and I turn off the light I say "Night night. I love you, Punkin"

"I luff you, Mommy."

"I love you, too." And I close the door.

At which point from behind the closed door I hear "I luff you, Mommy." I can't not respond. It's Pavlovian in me! I simply must reply. I can't let her go to sleep thinking I don't love her.

Open door. "I love you, too, Punkin. It's time to go night night. Go to sleep." Close door.

"I luff you, Mommy." Aghhhh!

We've been known to go back and forth like this for a good three or four minutes. I KNOW she's manipulating me but I still can't help myself.

Tonight after we did the above routine I went back to the kitchen to finish cleaning the supper dishes. I heard a distressed cry from her bedroom "MOMMY!"

Open the door. "What is it, Punkin?"

"I luff you, Mommy."

That girl! She's good! Even though I'm frustrated beyond measure (mostly because I have to keep drying my hands off!) I just can't be mad at her. She's got me wrapped around her little finger and she knows it.

100 Things - Counting by Tens

Well, I never thought it would happen, really, but I've written 100 posts. Some days it's hard to imagine that I've had the time or the energy to write even one, but somehow there are 100 -- or at least that's what Blogger tells me. I'll take his word for it.

I've never really filled out the "About Me" section that you find on most blogs. For one thing, I've read too many of yours and feel like anything I put down would pale in comparison. Also, to be frank, it seems impossible to sum myself up in just a couple of sentences. I am, if nothing else, complicated. And I'm full of contradictions. Just ask Mr. Daddy.

I've also been tempted to do the "100 Things" you see on a lot of blogs, but was a little overwhelmed by the task. So, I'm stealing a little bit from Diary of a Diapering Madwoman who did her "100 Things" in bits and pieces and Blowtorch in the Middle, who already had a "100 Things" but did 10 more in honor of her 100th post. Thanks for the inspiration, ladies!

So here goes. Please note that these are in no particular order, except the order that they popped into my head. And I"m going to start at 100 and go backwards. I don't know if there's a protocol to these things, but this is how it's going to go on this here blog.

100. I can never remember what the anti-drug acronym DARE stands for. Never. I always think it stands for Drugs Are Really Evil. It actually stands for Drug Abuse Resistance Education (I had to ask Mr. Daddy). I think mine is better.

99. I like Mariachi music.

98. And cowboy yodeling.

97. I'm an easy crier. Mr. Daddy still teases me about crying over a Mercedes commercial where the Mercedes is about to be crushed in a junkyard and it's "life" with this young family starts flashing before its eyes. Sniff.

96. I can pat my head with one hand and rub my stomach with the other. If I switch hands I can do the opposite task on the opposite body location.

95. I can quote most of the first chapter of Gone With the Wind from memory. Oops! I meant to say first PARAGRAPH, not the first chapter. Sorry!

94. I have an irrational fear of spiders.

93. I love french fries. Especially dipped in ranch dressing. They are my dietary downfall every time.

92. I have a tattoo. It's a comedy and tragedy mask, which occasionally seems kind of cheesy to me, but it does mean something to me and I've never regretted getting it. Nobody can see it unless I want to show it to them and since it's now located riiiight beneath my c-section scar, only my doctor and Mr. Daddy get to see it these days!

91. I won the county spelling bee in the fifth and seventh grade. On the certificate for my 5th grade win they spelled my name wrong.

That's it for now. I'll post these periodically until I have 100.

Plenty to be thankful for

Before we get down to "bidness" I have to show you this:


Imposter Mom gave me this award today. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw that she had nominated me. I just recently discovered her blog (and love it!) but I really had no idea she was even reading mine. But oh! What a nice surprise!

So I'm passing it on to these lovely ladies:

The Tea Party Place

One Woman Show

Stay At Home Mom Going Quickly Insane


Now...on with the ramblings, er, I mean show...

First of all, I cannot be-leeve Thanksgiving is next week. It has completely snuck up on me this year. And if we're being honest, I'm a little disappointed. Because we're spending it with Mr. Daddy's family. Mr. Daddy is completely aware of my feelings and thinks I'm a little silly, but I really like my family. (Editorial note: for most of this post, when I say "family" I'm referring to my mother, brother, dad, aunts, cousins, step-siblings, etc. I realize that I have my own family now, but for ease of reading -- and writing -- see note above).

Don't get me wrong, I really, really like Mr. Daddy's family, too. Of course I love them, but I like them too, which is wayyy more important, if you ask me. In fact, I have a hard time imagining a better family that I could have married into. Mr. Daddy's mom is one of three sisters who are very close. And they're a hoot. When they all get together they'll usually wind up tickled about something and we'll all find ourselves just about rolling on the floor laughing along with them. They used to be a semi-famous (for West Virginia) singing trio when they were children and in their teens and very early twenties and they like to sing a lot. And they're really good, so that's always fun. When Bubba was about 3 weeks old we were at their house for Christmas an they decided to "serenade" him with "Frosty the Snowman" but they kept forgetting the order of the verses and before it was over we were all hysterical laughing and no one could sing a note. We have that on tape somewhere -- I need to dig that out.

And Mr. Daddy is one of six children and I really like all his siblings, though most live in West Virginia and so we don't get to see them that often. So I will be really excited to see them next week. Plus we have a new nephew, Max, that we'll be meeting for the first time.

BUT, having Thanksgiving with them means that I won't be having Thanksgiving with my own family. I've said before on this blog that I'm a family girl. And I would have to say that spending major holidays away from my family was (and sometimes still is) the hardest thing about getting married and blending families. I mean, I spent 24 years with my family before I married into another family. THAT's a hard habit to break.

One of the biggest fights Mr. Daddy and I have had was our first Christmas as a married couple. My family always gathered on Christmas Eve. We'd go to a candlelight service at the church, go home to a delicious meal and then -- and I know this is sacrilege to some people, BUT -- we would open our presents from each other. Our first Christmas together we went to my mom's house for dinner on Christmas Eve and then went home. I mentioned something about seeing my mom again on Christmas Day and Mr. Daddy said "What? We're not going back are we? We just saw those people."

THOSE PEOPLE?!? In retrospect I know he didn't mean any disrespect to them or dislike for them, but all I heard was "THOSE PEOPLE!"

"'THOSE PEOPLE' are my FAMILY!!" I yelled.

"We're a family now!" he countered.

"NO.WE.ARE.NOT!" I cried (literally). "Not until we have kids." In the end we did go to my mom's for Christmas Day, too. Partially because there wasn't a thing to eat at our house. I had just assumed that we would spend Christmas Day with them and so had not bought anything at the store.

And of course we now have kids and we have a family of our own. These familial tugs-of-war have gotten easier over the years. And I will enjoy seeing Mr. Daddy's family next week. And Bubba and Punkin are going to have a blast playing with their cousins. And in all fairness we have spent the majority of the major holidays with my family. But that doesn't mean I'm going to miss my extended family any less. But wherever I spend the holiday, I'm thankful for ALL of my family.

Random Blog Bits

I don't know if any of you experienced this today, but Blogger was having some kind of "issue." Every time I would try to comment on someone's blogspot blog I would get an error message. I felt very...thwarted. Who knew I had so much to say about YOUR blogs? Very late in the day I found that if *I* was already logged in to blogger that I could comment on other people's blogs, but if I wasn't already logged in = error message. Whew! (Do you think Betty Ford has a wing for bloggers?)

**************
I've decided that fall is my favorite season. I used to think I was a springtime girl -- you know, the thaw after the winter, the flowers. BUT, this fall (and last fall) have cemented fall in first place in my affections. I much prefer the cooling off after the sweltering summer (that cooling off is of course in theory -- it was 75 here today). I prefer fall clothes -- they're more forgiving. You can't see my ham arms in my cozy sweaters. There's not much you can do hide them in sleeveless shirts. But my favorite thing about fall is the trees. Oh! They are glorious! I had heard that drought makes the colors more vibrant, but that too much drought would mean they wouldn't have any color. If they are any less vibrant this year I can't tell it. I saw a tree today that was just golden, except for one teensy little stripe down one side of the tree that was gloriously burgundy, like someone had swiped just the edge with a paintbrush.

The thing I like best about the trees, though, is that they make me take notice. So often I'm rushing here or there, lost in thought, listening to the whining from the back seat. But when the trees look like this you can't help but notice. The trees bring my outside of myself and make me think "Oh my gosh. That is glorious. LIFE is glorious. I'm glad to be alive."

**********

Some days there's just no pleasing Punkin. When I picked her up today she was in a mood. Nothing suited. The answer to every question was "NO!" After we picked up Bubba she continued to whine and fuss about every little thing.

Finally I said, "Punkin, if you don't stop whining I'm going to leave you on the side of the road."

Bubba wailed "No, Mommy! She's my little sister and I love her!"

**********

I have a feeling I'm in for a real treat tomorrow. Bubba's school is going to a nearby senior center for a Thanksgiving lunch. Parents are always invited to go along on field trips, but this is the first one I've been able to attend so far. And I'm going to ride the bus. I could have just met them at the senior center, but Bubba was absolutely insistent that I ride the bus, so ride the bus I shall.

***********

Tonight after dinner Bubba and I were playing knights. He asked me "Mommy, do you mind being the bad guy?" With manners like that how could I refuse?

**********

I STILL can't hear out of my right ear. I know you guys are sick of hearing about it -- heck, I"m sick of hearing about it (or not hearing about it, as the case may be! HA!). It makes conversations in the car particularly difficult. I've been keeping the radio mostly off because that noise combined with the kids talking creates a cacophony of sound inside my head that should be designated as an official form of torture.

************

I wore these boots yesterday (in black, natch):


















NOT SMART. I hiked from the parking deck to my office. Two hours later I hiked from my office to the parking deck. I picked Bubba up from school. I picked Punkin up from school. We went to the doctor's office. We went to McDONALDS! I took Bubba BACK to school. I took Punkin to the PARK because I couldn't take her back to school until after nap time. I took Punkin back to school. I hiked from the parking deck to my office. I hiked from office to the parking deck. I picked Punkin up from school and stood and chatted with her teacher for 15 mintues. I picked Bubba up from school and stood and chatted with HIS teacher for 15 minutes. I did all that in THOSE shoes. When I finally got home and took my shoes off, my feet took off, jumped right off the end of my legs and ran around yelping like wounded dogs, like you see in those old cartoons.

The End of an Era

We put away Punkin's crib this weekend. We moved her to a toddler bed, which so far is working out okay. I don't really know why we moved her except for the fact that Bubba was already in a toddler bed when he was her age.

I found out I was pregnant with Punkin not long after Bubba turned two. And because I never wanted him to feel that she had usurped him in any way, we moved him out of the crib about three weeks after I found out I was pregnant. I was worried about how he would handle it, but it went so smoothly I could hardly believe it. No fussing, no nighttime wandering (which was my greatest fear), nothing.

And while I KNOW in my head that he and Punkin are two different people, for some reason it just seems that since HE was out of his crib by now then she should be, too. But with Punkin nothing is ever as cut and dried as it was with Bubba. Remember the higgie incident?

Let me just say that Punkin was thrilled with her new bed. She spent most of Saturday morning running down the hall to her room shouting "my new bed, my new bed" and then flopping on it. I didn't really think we would have any trouble getting her to lie down come bedtime.

The first night the toddler bed was up was the night we went to the football game. We picked the kids up from my dad's late and by the time we got home both were sound asleep in the backseat. I managed to get Punkin into her pj's with a minimum of waking and put her in the toddler bed. Sometime in the night I heard a thunk, went to check on her and found her somehow halfway wedged underneath the bed, a feat in and of itself because the thing is so darn low to the ground. But, she remained in the bed for the rest of the night and was there when I went to wake her on Sunday morning.

Last night, around 12:30 I heard Punkin crying so I went to check on her. I opened the door to her room and ran smack into her. I don't know if she was crying because she couldn't get her room door open or what, but I picked her up and put her back in the bed. After I got to bed I kept thinking that I heard small thuds and rustling coming from her room, but since I STILL can't hear out of my right ear, I couldn't be sure. She wasn't crying. So eventually I fell back asleep.

This morning when I went to wake her she was in her bed, but her blanket was wayyyy over by her closet. And tonight when I put her to bed I noticed a strange stuffed animal that normally sits on her bookshelf on the other side of the room. She must be an intrepid little soul because her room is a dark as pitch at night. I don't want to put in a nightlight because I'm afraid it will only encourage the wandering. But, sheesh, I'm not sure I would go wandering in a room that dark.

We're probably going to sell the crib. And I have to say that putting that crib away gave me a pang of sadness that I haven't felt before when retiring any of my other baby stuff. I loved that crib. We bought it when I was pregnant with Bubba and it was gorgeous. Dark Cherry. Clean lines. It was expensive but we had more money (than sense!) back then. For me, that crib symbolizes all my hopes and expectations when I was pregnant. And now it seems like we've reached a very significant milestone not only in Punkin's life, but also in mine.

A former client of mine and I were discussing our kids once. He said that sometimes he felt wistful and sad about milestones that passed unrecognized. We don't often celebrate the last bottle. Or the last diaper. Or the last time your children sit in your lap. Because at the time you may not realize that it IS the last time. And I really didn't realize on Friday night that would be the last time Punkin' slept in her crib. Getting out the toddler bed was kind of a spur of the moment decision on Saturday.

And although I'm glad to see Punkin becoming more independent, it makes me a little sad too. She's growing up. How am I going to know when all the "lasts" are? I definitely don't want to miss the last time she sits in my lap.

Back in Black

Y'all.

A friend, who shall forever be dear to me, gave me a wonderful gift on Friday. She gave me tickets. No, not tickets to Hawaii. She gave me tickets to the Georgia vs. Auburn football game, which turned out to be the most amazing and most exciting sporting event I've ever attended.

I know some of you aren't into sports, but I love sports and I love college football, particularly the Dawgs.

And for those of you who don't know, Saturday was a "blackout" game. The seniors on the football team requested that all the fans wear black, in a show of solidarity. Late in the week, rumors began to fly that the team would wear black jerseys, something no one can remember ever happening before, but no one would confirm or deny and Coach Richt said he was just plain tired of talking about it.

As Mr. Daddy and I walked to the stadium, it was clear that the Bulldog faithful had listened to the players. There was an occasional red shirt (where have you people been? In a cave?), but black was everywhere (seriously, how hard do you think it was for most women to find something black in their closets? And of course most of the women were dressed like they were going to a cocktail party, but that's a whole `nother post entirely).

When we got to our seats, we were greeted by a sea of black:


This was a sight never before seen in Sanford Stadium. And it was impressive.

And I'm about to get a little sentimental here but please just bear with me for a moment. When the announcer asked us to stand and sing the UGA Alma Mater, I looked out at all those people, all wearing black, all rooting for the same team, and I got a little teary eyed.

Truthfully, this is not unusual for me. I get teary eyed any time the National Anthem is played. Whenever I go to a parade and see all these happy people, sharing in a common experience that seems so Norman Rockwell-y, so American. I can't explain why it happens. It just makes me feel like I'm part of something larger than myself -- even if it is just a football game.

We missed the team warming up, but everybody around said they were in red jerseys. So maybe it was just a rumor after all. Maybe not.

The captains met at the center of the field -- in red jerseys. The coin was tossed. The decision to kick or receive was made.

And then the cheerleaders and the band lined up beside the tunnel where the team emerges. Everyone held their breath.

And then the team stormed onto the field wearing black jerseys and oh my God the stadium went wild. AC/DC's "Back In Black" blared from the speakers, and while it is certainly not one of my favorite songs, it certainly did get everyone fired up.

The truly amazing thing was that the momentum never faltered. Every time Auburn had the ball the stadium would erupt again. Auburn wasted two time outs simply because the players couldn't hear the plays being called by the quarterback. I myself was almost completely hoarse before the end of the first quarter.

And of course, Georgia won. It was the first time that Georgia has beaten both Florida and Auburn in the same year since 1982. So it felt good. I know it was just a football game, but holy cow that was fun.

Ticket lady (you know who you are), thank you.

Women Are Fantastic Friday

My friend Sophie over at A Hole in the Fence came up with Women are Fantastic Friday. And I think this is a fabulous idea. (Sophie, I could not get the html to work to save my life, but I hope I've linked appropriately.)

I've been thinking about this for a while. I have been thinking about all the wonderful women who have been caregivers for my children over the years.

I'm not foolish enough to believe that they came into my life by chance. They were sent by God. That may sound a little melodramatic or overwrought, but it is true. All of these women came into my life at a perfect time and they were all angels in my eyes.

Before Bubba was born I had already scoped out a daycare. In my mind there was no doubt that I would go back to work. Financially I didn't think we had a choice. About a three weeks before I was supposed to go back to work, I went to scope out the daycare ONE MORE TIME. There was a young girl taking some of the older kids out to the playground and she yelled at them to COME ON. It was such a harsh tone that she used. (In her defense, it is a tone that I have now used with my kids many, many times and it is drawn out of me by dawdling and whining). But at the time I was horrified. I could not leave my child there.

So, I called my boss and quit my job. And then I panicked and called him back and said wellll, maybe I wouldn't quit, but could we work something out? He was willing to let me work two days a week. But what in the world was I going to do with Bubba two days a week? Those of you with kids in daycare know that most facilities won't let you do part time. I was screwed.

And then came Dwan. I actually met Dwan in my postpartum depression support group, if you can believe it. She had two kids, a two year old and an almost one year old, and she and her husband had been living in separate towns while he looked for work in Savannah. It was hard on her, to say the least. There were only two of us in our group, so we bonded kind of quickly. I was talking about my dilemma in the group and she offered to keep Bubba for me.

The situation was ideal because she lived just around the corner from my office. I could go to her house at lunch and nurse Bubba and then she gave him my pumped milk during the rest of the day. During this time Dwan also started a playgroup that became my lifeline in those early days. We met every other week and some of those girls became some of my closest mom friends.

Eventually, finances forced Dwan to go back to work and I ended up putting Bubba in a traditional daycare. He was eight months old by this time and I was over my new mom jitters (a little). I found a new daycare in town and he quickly became the favorite of Ms. Rasheeda. She loved him like he was her own and she always called "My Bubba." Every day when we went to school Ms. Rasheeda lit up like the sun when Bubba came in.

The day that we took Bubba out of the school to move up here, Ms. Rasheeda just cried and cried and truthfully, so did I. We still talk about Ms. Rasheeda to this day and that was almost 4 years ago.

When Punkin was born things were very different. Financially we were struggling a little and I couldn't afford to put her in the same daycare with Bubba and there was no way I could stay home. I actually started answering ads in the paper for "Qualified Caregivers." I made several appointments that I ended up canceling just because of weird feelings I got while talking to these women on the phone.

There was one, Denise, that lived very close to our house, so I made an appointment and one day on my lunch went out to visit. I knocked on the door and a young woman opened up, looked at me and said "Are you Madame Queen? Did you go to XYZ High School?"

"Yes, I am and I did." And lo and behold I had gone to high school with this woman! Denise graduated when I was a freshman, but I knew her younger brother very well. Again, God delivered an angel.

And she truly was an angel. She loved Punkin' as much as I did and her two young daughters doted on Punkin so much that I never had to worry that she lacked for attention. She care for Punkin from the time she was 8 weeks old until she was almost a year old. When we moved to our current house it was too much of a commute for me to have her continue to keep Punkin', though I tried for over a month. Eventually I had to deliver the bad news. And she cried. And I cried. And her daughters wouldn't even come out of their rooms. Punkin' left there before she was even a year old and it breaks my heart that she will have no memory of this wonderful woman who cared for her and loved her every day.

And finally, there is Lauren. Lauren had been my back up sitter for a little while. I met Lauren initially through a local mother's group and I put out a call that I needed a back up sitter one for the Friday after Thanksgiving. When Denise's children had dentist appointments or if she was out of town, Lauren was there for me. And when ultimately we decided that I could no longer make the commute to Denise's, Lauren was there for me again. She kept Punkin 5 days a week, in addition to her own two at home and she was fantastic. So patient (more than I am, that's for sure!). And they were always on the go -- to the Library, to the Park -- always keeping Punkin's mind active and doing exactly the kinds of things I would do if I could have stayed home with her. And she loved Punkin' too. And Punkin' loved her and her family (and their dog -- Punkin' even named one of her stuffed dogs after Lauren's dog!). A lot of big life changes ultimately led us to put Punkin' in the same daycare as Bubba, but we still see Lauren and her family on a fairly regular basis. But now Lauren and her family are moving. And although we are excited for them, we are sad for us because now they won't be just right down the road and we won't run into them at Wal-Mart on Saturday mornings!

I'm leaving out a lot of wonderful women who work in my children's schools, but the women above are the women who stand out in my mind. These are the women who made a difference in my life. Because they cared for and loved MY children like their own, I had peace of mind. That is a wonderful gift. And for that I thank you.