My pretty, precious little girl is devilishly deceitful. Adorably astute. Cleverly cute. Maddeningly manipulative.
Anyway, she gets these reports from daycare that come home each day that list things like what she ate and how much, if she used the potty, diaper changes, etc. At the bottom the teacher puts stickers and always writes “clean up stickers” so that the parents know if and how many times they helped clean up. Aria always gets clean up stickers because she enjoys cleaning up (note: at daycare; NOT at home unless there’s a huge song and dance number that accompanies the process).
The other day I was working from home so walked down to the daycare to pick her up. Eric was there when we arrived at home and as we were headed in I was perusing her report and noticed there were no stickers! I made an offhand comment to her about not getting any stickers today and she took it from me and said, “I got clean up stickers!” to which I replied “… mmnnoo you didn’t..”
She took it and ran inside to show Eric. “Daddy! I got clean up stickers!”
Her joyful enthusiasm spilled over to him, “You did?!!”
Mommy’s willful determination to squash all bubbles and rainbows, “no she didn’t. She’s lying to you.”
Daddy’s hesitation, “you didn’t get clean up stickers Aria?”
She grabs the paper from him, runs in the other room and I find her sitting in the middle of the kitchen putting her OWN stickers on where the teacher would have put them. She then takes the paper back to Eric.
“Daddy, I got clean up stickers!!”
Eric looks at me with the same look I’m feeling.
Our two year old is already forging report cards!!!!
PS I told the teacher about this experience the next day (who found it utterly amusing), and when Aria did earn stickers and the teacher put them on her paper Aria said, “I got Real clean up stickers!”
Pain in the Butt #1:
My cute adorable little toddler is such a stinker sometimes, but we all already knew this.
I was taking a shower in the bathtub in the main bathroom and found that quite a bit of my hair was coming out. Having recently given birth and rarely washing my hair anymore, clumps were sticking to my fingers as I combed the conditioner through my locks. In an effort to reduce the amount of strands washed down the drain, and there to clog said drain, I began to plaster the strands to the wall so I could throw it all into the trash when I stepped out.
Aria wandered in, saw me in the shower, and proclaimed, “Aria shower! Shower with mommy!”
I reluctantly allowed her in, grieving the loss of the closed shower doors (she likes to leave them open) and the warmth that escaped in a breath. She plugged the tub, capturing the soapy water that began to swirl around our ankles. She splashed, she spun, she sortof let me wash her hair as she wandered aimlessly around the tub.
Then Aria looked up and screamed, “EEW!! Eeew eeew eeew!!” I followed her gaze and saw her looking in horror at the spidery mess on the wall.
Other recent antics include wanting to change the movie in the DVD player over and over again. She is able to do it all herself, will go and get a movie from the case (she recognizes them by their cases, she knows which ones are which), take the movie out, eject whatever movie is currently in the player, puts the new one in, puts the ejected one away in its correct case and back in the movie stand thingy, and will watch for approximately 2 min before wanting to do it all over again. The only thing she can’t do quite yet is start a movie that requires the remote control. The DVDs will start automatically, so she, literally, is completely self sufficient and doesn’t need any adult shmadults.
This becomes frustrating when, oh say, you’re trying to watch something on tv, like a football game, and she decides she’d rather watch a singalong video, and she and her father are RACING to the tv to see who can get to it first. I personally find this incredibly amusing.
For some completely unknown reason when I put her to bed it takes a million times longer than when her father does. Together we say our prayers, read books, put on our PJs and lotion and chapstick (mouth breather, always wakes up with cracked lips unless enough stuff is put on her lips before bed), sing songs, give lots of hugs and kisses and then she still cries and yells after me the names of songs she still wants sung, or asking for more hugs or kisses.. When Eric puts her down she is completely content after the 5 to 10 min he spends with her then leaves her tucked in and happy with no crying or yelling. So unfair.
Pain in the Butt #2:
My sweet, precious, oh so cute little baby is sooo patient and calm. One would never think she could be a pain in the butt. But no, she can be. For example, the bar that connects her shoes is off for now because she keeps kicking her shoe off by using the bar as leverage, and instead of spending the whole day re-buckling and re-tying her shoe, we’ve been told to just leave the bar off until we see the doctor again. She is SO excited to have freedom of her feet and they just kick constantly. Like at 5 in the morning. She apparently wasn’t hungry yet, because not a peep came from her mouth. No, we were just awoken with a very rhythmic, thunk thunk! … thunk thunk! … thunk thunk! It would last for awhile then I would groggily turn on the vibrate and music on the bassinet, and that would lull her for a bit, then it would start up again. This went on until I finally dragged myself out of bed and got us ready for the day. Ugh, so tired. Stinker.
But she’s soooooooooooo cute, and that smile just makes you instantly forgive her. And really, who can blame her for reveling in her new found freedom.
Pain in the Butt #3:
An actual pain. No really, I have a pain in my butt. The dermatologist took a suspicious looking mole for biopsy. So my butt hurts.
Pain in the Butt #4:
The hubby. Often of an evening I’ll ask him to put Aria to bed, or will give him the list of things I still need to do, and he’ll take over some portion of that list. Last night I rattled off things I still needed to accomplish and how tired I was (a little under the weather) and jokingly asked if he could pump for me. I’m so tired of pumping. Well he never actually signed up for any of the nightly activities and went about cleaning or whatever he was doing. I was a bit peeved and huffily took Aria up for a bath and to put her to bed. A tiny bit pissy the whole time.
Well once she was tucked away I came back downstairs and Eric was holding Avery, had just fed her, and also showed me one of the pump bottles with something in it. He said, “I pumped, but this is all that came out.”
It was slightly brown and viscous. I was very very wary of what was in the bottle, and while appreciative that he had fed the baby, I still had to take her up and top her off because she was clearly not sleepy yet. Not to mention I still had to pump.. ugh.
I asked, “what’s in the bottle?” and his response was repeatedly, “I pumped! You asked me to pump and I did! Aren’t you happy?”
So, while a bit less pissy, I was still frustrated that I still had to put the baby to bed and pump.. I just wanted to go to sleep already.
Once all that was done, I came back down and was going to go wash bottles and pump parts for the next day. But Eric had already washed everything. Ok, I was no longer pissy.. but what was in that bottle???
I opened it. It was sweet smelling. “Eric! Did you put syrup in here??”
Last night when I was trying to put Aria to bed, she was bouncing in my lap with a little too much energy left over. She was facing me and flailed her arms a little, which knocked my glasses off my face.
As she sometimes does when all of a sudden my shields are down (or knocked onto the floor), she put her great big eyes right up in my face with a great big smile. She said, “hi!”
I started giggling because she was just so incredibly cute.
So she made her eyes even bigger, with her forehead pressed up against mine, and sang dramatically, “bum bum bum!”
I lost it.
Yesterday I made fajitas for dinner. Eric was standing there putting his together, but suddenly he turned to me and struck a pose, like a body builder. Then he turned back and continued what he was doing. I looked at him quizzically, but when it was my turn to make my fajitas I saw why.
*Sigh*… He cracks me up.
My baby’s got the sniffles but she’s taking it like a trooper. She hadn’t had a fever, just a seriously runny nose at times, and an occasional cough. But she’s still determined to smile and carry on conversations and sit upright.
She’s so funny and cute I just had to capture her faces, so my apologies on how gross this video is 🙂
I’ve become rather accustomed to folks cooing over, complimenting, congratulating us on, and even seeking out our baby in stores – this has happened several times now when we’re doing fine shopping then all of a sudden she gets tired/cranky/poopy-pantsed/hungry and starts wailing and we have to expedite the shopping adventure, and someone will find us and say, “I knew I heard a newborn! I told (whoever they are with) that I heard a newborn and said ‘I have to find that baby!'” This is often followed with, when they are with their nearly full-grown daughter, “Can you believe you used to be that tiny??” It usually is quite impressive to imagine the robust person before me as a tiny little baby, but I suppose it was the case at one point in everyone’s life.
People love babies. Like really love babies. I’ve been asked about her, told how precious she is, and congratulated so much that I’m starting to feel pretty darn special and like Aria is a celebrity or somesuch.
However, the most interesting encounter I’ve had thus far was from an older, rough-looking gentleman who accosted me in a grocery store. He was incredibly difficult to understand, almost like he had marbles in his mouth. He asked, “boy or girl?” I replied she was a girl, which was hard to tell because she was in a bright pink outfit with a pink blanket on her lap. He said something unintelligible and I said, “I’m sorry?” He repeated and I got the gist was that she needed some “herrboos in her har so’s you cud tell.” I said, “Oh, yeah I ordered some headbands but they haven’t arrived yet.” He mumbled something, I looked at him blankly, he mumbled it again, louder this time, and I continued to stare at him slack-jawed because I hadn’t a clue what he was saying.
Finally he said a few times, “bubblegum! bubblegum! Y’know, jus’ stick at in ‘er har an’ stick a boo on it.”
Oh. Of course, why hadn’t I thought of that? I chuckled politely and calmly said, “but then it would stick in the poor baby’s hair..”
He brushed that off with “mos’ babies ain’t got no harr.” No.. but mine does and I’m not sure I’m ready to subject her to the whole cliche of beauty requires pain.
We started to walk away from each other but he had one other light bulb go off before we got too far apart, something about “well then toothpaste.”
(This incident is what led me to safety-pinning a bow onto her hat before we went out again)
Eric apparently caused a ruckus in the neighborhood today. He had put all of the wood packing materials that came with the baby’s furniture outside, with the regular branches and wood for fires, but it had drawn some mites or something. He decided he’d rather burn and destroy this stuff instead of bagging it up and bringing it and its infestation into the house (garage), which I completely agree with.
So he got out the fire pit and started burning this stuff, which apparently caused a bit of smoke because it was damp or rotten or something.
He said he sat out there for two hours in the heat monitoring this stuff, before deciding it had burned down low enough, and was no longer smoking, so that he could go inside and work on hanging curtain rods in the baby’s room.
The baby’s room has the absolute best view in the entire house of the backyard, and so he could see down at the fire pit and that it was fine, but at some point he was not near the window and when he looked back the fire had been put out and there was water on the ground. He had literally been inside for less than five minutes when this happened.
Eric ran outside to find out why one of our neighbors would trespass to put out our fire, only to discover a fire engine out front. Apparently a lady down the street had seen the smoke, asked the UPS delivery guy if we were home, to which he had answered that no one answered the door when he delivered packages (because Eric was outside at that time, monitoring the fire), and she had noticed that Eric’s car, which is usually so prevalent right in front of our house, was gone (because I had driven it to work). So she did the neighborly thing and called the fire department because clearly our house was on fire and we weren’t home.
So Eric had to explain to the chief why he was burning something, clarify that he hadn’t actually done anything wrong because it was in an enclosed fire pit (with the screen cover on), and was technically being monitored if you exclude the minute or so he took his eyes off of it.
Eric did talk to that neighbor and thanked her for caring enough to check and call, and it sounds like he had a chat with the other neighbors as well, with the one two doors down yelling over, “Eric? Are you still outside? Just wanted to make sure you were keeping an eye on your fire” and such.
It’s funny that while he’s at home during the day so much is going on. It’s like an episode of Housewives or something, except I know that most of them are men, which makes it all the more interesting.
So now Eric has to figure out what to do with his soppy wooden mush mess.