Tuesday, May 31, 2011

banks and white

So as I've mentioned, my mom made Annabelle a new blanket for Christmas. It's just like the beloved "banks" she's been toting around since birth, but white. And not nasty. The thought was that maybe we could trade it out? Not happening. She now regularly totes both around. Of course, I don't allow her to tote them out of the house, but when she's just chilling, you better believe she's got both "banks" and "white." This is how I found her when I got out of the shower, just happy to be with her favorite friends.

When she goes to bed, she need banks under her head and white "on my legs." And she's so in love with them. Like you've seen kids with their blankets, but Annabelle takes loving a comfort object to a whole new level. She seriously routinely rolls around on the floor in pure joy with her blankets around her. She'll take them and smash them into her face until they leave a mark. She pets them routinely, while muttering, "Nice...soft." (It's not normal.)
Today I was busy cutting cantaloupe (what's new?) and had my back to her, although I knew where she was and could hear her. When it got quiet, I turned around to see my sweet girl snuggled up with her blankets on the deck, just enjoying the breeze blowing through the trees. She was out there for quite a while, quite content to be self-swaddled in her favorite blankets.

Pretty sure my mom will be crocheting blankets for this little munchkin for all eternity. Because she seriously adores them and has a knack for totally destroying their original integrity. But it makes me happy that she loves something from my mom's fingers so much. When I was home I accidentally saw a new blanket in the works and got in a little trouble. Let's just say it was the cutest color ever, would work for a boy or a girl, and made me realize that soon - like eight weeks! - I'll have another baby in one of those beauts. And goodness, I'm getting excited.

P.S. Yes, we wash banks every dang week. It doesn't help. The thing has been to war and back. There's no going back to white folks.

Friday, May 27, 2011

our baby grad

This week, my baby sister - the one I packed around on my hip like she was my own, the one whose name I still confuse with my own child's -  graduated from high school. I may have worn wedges (at 31 weeks...what was I thinking?) and had to chase around my Belle during what seemed to be designed to be the longest high school graduation in the world's history, but in all the walking (and leg aching), I did some thinking.

I have no desire to repeat high school (indeed, I don't think anyone needs that experience twice, even if it was awesome), but I did look back with a bit of nostalgia. It's funny to remember how simple life truly was when I "knew everything." (Didn't we though?) "Life changing decisions" that I spent time agonizing over were really just life changing opportunities, no matter what I chose. And had I known that having the ability to see life laid out ahead of me with such clarity was such a singular experience, I'd have probably paid closer attention to the years whizzing past me.

Of course, life today is wonderful in different and amazingly complicated ways, but for a few moments, it felt good to remember being almost half my age and having a world of possibility spread out in all directions before me. I had dreams, and I believed I could chase them. My body was full of energy, and my mind actually responded when prompted to, instead of sluggishly shuffling through a sea of pregnancy hormones and to-do lists. Remembering those simple days helped me remember that although life is different now, the decisions I made then are the ones that steered me in this direction, the direction of my biggest dreams. I've landed in a dream that I hoped for, but I took roads I didn't expect or anticipate to get here.

I don't think she knows it, but my baby sister's life has just begun. I wish her all the best in the coming years and hope she knows how much happy is sitting out there, just waiting to be grabbed. The life decisions that might loom above her for the next couple years can actually be some of the best decisions she'll make. And they'll lead to some of her happiest years.

Also, I think she's beautiful. Don't you? Also, do you love how we all look like my mom? I do. :)

Friday, May 20, 2011

big as a melon

Totally obsessed with cantaloupe. I could eat a whole melon in one sitting. I'm really not kidding. I usually stop myself somewhere around the half mark because eating the whole thing would be, you know, crazy. But then I get a ginormous bowl of purple grapes, the crisp and perfectly sweet kind, the kind that snap in your mouth. It's just as bad. Consume consume. And guess what happens then?

I AM UP ALL NIGHT. Fruit is mostly water. I am mostly missing a bladder.

I'll let you do the math.

And then at 5 a.m. Belle wakes up yelling, "Mommy, hold you, Honey! Mommy, hold you, Honey!" Which would be obnoxious if it weren't cute. And since I'm up anyway (using the restroom), I go in and "hold you." She then tries to burrow into my being as though I'm a bed, which would sort of work except I have a rather round - sometimes moving - melon sized (Coincidence? I think not...) protrusion extending from my mid region. So I ask her if perhaps she'd like to go back to bed, where I'd be happy to sing her some songs. She obliges. I sing a few songs, she falls asleep. By the way, my 5 a.m. singing voice is the stuff of legends.

And then I head back to the bathroom.

Thing is, I'm pretty sure I'll be buying another cantaloupe today. Because the one I bought yesterday is sure to be consumed in the next few hours. Plus, Target's grapes are on sale. And they taste like summer on my tongue, which is nice because summer on my tongue is much better than winter outside my window. SERIOUSLY?

Thursday, May 19, 2011

scrub on, scrub off

So I really hate most kitchen cleaning devices. Sponges, washcloths, scrubby things. They just harbor disease and infection. It makes me kind of want to vomit every time I do the dishes, the way stuff sticks to your sponge and then you just have to pretend that it's not spreading to the next dish. Yuck. My solution up until recently was to buy the green scrubby sponges in bulk and toss them (much to the chagrin of my husband and the earth) the second I couldn't stand the smell or sight of them. However, my mom can't stand the green sponges and is always insisting I try a brush type device, but I've seen the way particles lace their way permanently into those things! And they cost more, which means when I toss them, I'm tossing more money out. But as I wandered aimlessly through Ikea last week (seriously - they've engineered that building expertly so that you have to wander), I saw this fancy brush, for a mere dollar.
And to assuage my mom's deep harbored desire for me to use a brush on my dishes, I indulged. And it was totally worth it. I don't know what they did to their magic bristles, but food doesn't get stuck, and it cleans both tough and easy food off of my dishes. I don't use nonstick pans either (husband is frightened of Teflon) so I get some serious food buildup on dishes.

So if you too secretly want to vomit every time you wash a dish, I say go for this one dollar specimen. Totally changing my life.

P.S. Sorry if you don't live near an Ikea. It appears it's only available in the store.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

total turn off

I forgot to mention this story, and it's slowly climbing the charts around here. So I thought I better jot it down. Because I'm starting to notice that I can't keep up with Annabelle and her hilarious one liners. And this one is definitely noteworthy.

So at night, part of our bedtime routine includes a song from mommy. (It comes just before the "I love yous" and the shut eyes.) The last night my mom was here, Annabelle had a special request: "Grandma sing song?" Allow my mom (from her blog) to recount the rest of the story:

I was honored to be chosen as a guest soloist in her bedtime ritual. She lay down in her bed with her blanky, white, sheepie, and bear and looked up at me as I sang.

About two-thirds through my solo, she said, "Turn off." 

I paused. "Turn off what, Sweetie?"

"Turn off song. Mommy sing song."

Still makes me belly laugh. Hold on. Yep, still laughing.

I can't emphasize how much I love having a toddler around. I realize that they become a little more difficult as they begin to have an opinion; I further realize that I have a pretty darn easy toddler. But my point is I just love my almost-two-year-old, and it makes me so happy that even though she's getting so big, I still get as much a kick out of her as I did when she was brand spankin' new.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

thoughts at thirty

Ten more weeks to go. Ten weeks seems like a mere minute when compared to the eternity that is the first thirty. It's like I know I can survive now because it's so close, the worst is over. Now I just need to fatten up my baby (and my face, let's be honest - it's going to start retaining water like a giant swimming pool) and keep up the nesting (it's in high mode folks) and suddenly - WOOSH - my water will break in the middle of church, and a baby will be born.

Hopefully not at church though. Awkkkwarrrd.


My sister-in-law told us a second-hand story (from another sister-in-law) about this girl whose water broke so they jumped in the car, but the car was coasting on fumes, quite literally, all the way to the hospital. By the time she got there, she was already crowning and ended up giving birth in front of the hospital Starbuck's. We laughed and laughed about this, but really I could be that girl. Would it be awkward if I asked for a iced hot chocolate immediately after giving birth? I mean, it's right there


My biggest worry is how Annabelle will fare while I'm at the hospital. The girl is spoiled and has never had a night or full day without her mommy. Even when I had surgery and thought we'd get a trial run, my prayers were answered and I only had to spend a few hours in the hospital before I could rush home to her, Lortab in my system. Of course, I'm not worried that she won't be cared for. She will be. She'll be spoiled rotten in all likelihood. I just hope she doesn't think I've abandoned her. Oh, how I'll miss her. I already do. Even though I know I'll be loving on a new baby, I'll be aching for the big one.


I had my 29(ish) week check up, and everything is looking great. So much better than the first pregnancy, in fact. Weight, blood pressure, sciatic nerve, overall general health - it's like light years different than the first pregnancy. As much as this diet has challenged my will to survive (it's really hard to face a day knowing I can't eat chocolate), I will be the first to admit that it has affected my health in all the best ways. It actually makes me want to maintain the diet (for the most part, with the addition of some chocolate, Diet Dr Pepper, and an occasional cupcake). I always thought that being pregnant meant uncontrollable weight gain, that losing control of your body was just part of the deal. Little did I realize how much control I could still have, all while being healthy and growing a healthy baby. I don't only feel healthy; I feel strong. I've learned that I have more self-discipline and self-control than I thought possible. I feel like I've conquered a part of myself, and I'd be lying if I didn't say there was some pride going on here.


I might as well grow some wings and a beak because the nesting is in full swing. This is mostly because Jess and I stopped fighting the answers that were in front of our faces, and we signed another six month lease at our apartment. (House hunting is on hold while we first get ready for Baby Dos and then enjoy our new little babe.) Suddenly I have an overwhelming desire to decorate and clean and organize. This may not be my baby's permanent home, but it is the one that he or she will come home to. And it's my goal to make it feel just that: like home. Cue me roping my mom into an Ikea trip and massive cleaning and organizing projects. I'm having so much fun and it only makes me more anxious to meet my baby. P.S. Sorry Baby - like your sister, you won't technically have a room. You'll share space with all of us, but I'm pretty sure you won't mind given the fact that by the time we move, you'll have just discovered your toes.


It's mid May, which is kind of blowing my mind. I feel like I spent the first months of the year with my eyes and mind shut, just willing the time to pass and float away on a sea of nausea. And suddenly it did. Suddenly it will be June. June is going to be a wonderful month because the next month is the month for a baby. It was two years ago, and it will be this year.


In the above photos, Annabelle is holding the onesie she came home from the hospital in. No really. She did. Here's proof:

In the first place, it's a little incredible to believe that Annabelle was ever that small. And then it's hard to imagine having another baby that small. I remember after Annabelle was born that as big as my stomach got, it was still amazing to hold such a tiny little person. I know it will be all over again.

So here's to thirty weeks and the relative ease of staring down the final ten.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

a visit

My mom came and visited us this weekend. Here's the thing about my mom: she never comes just to visit. She comes to visit, entertain (and spoil) my child, clean my house, and help me with whatever dilemma I might be facing at the moment. This time she came to save my carpets. You think I jest, but really - it was getting bad. I'm not allowed to vacuum (to spare my back), and things were looking pretty shabby around here. 

But beyond vacuuming she also: accompanied me to Ikea where we both stood around and gawked for the most part (I think I could live there and be very happy); helped me unassemble boxes and took them all to our dumpster in multiple trips (that's seriously like a three day journey to get to); helped me re-organize our third bedroom (our storage room) that was beginning to look a little like a tornado had taken permanent residence therein as I can't really lift or move boxes; assisted me in my spontaneous desire to create a gallery wall of photos (frames found during re-organization of the third bedroom); further assisted my spontaneity when I decided we needed our hall table put together, along with my goofy single girl chair that doesn't really belong in any normal living space (so it's in Belle's room). And on top of that, she brought Belle her new favorite dolly (it's the tiny mini version of her big headed doll, and it's ridiculously cute), bathed and dressed my girl every day, played silly games with her, started teaching her the little letters, let Annabelle wear her makeup (see above photos) and steal her sunglasses, read six billion books (mostly the same ones over and over), got her to use the potty (!!), and simply loved on my Belle who adores her grandma so much.

I can't believe we used to live across the country from each other. I seriously don't know how we survived. I sometimes feel bad that only four of the world's children have her as their mom, because she's seriously the best.

P.S. Yes, this is who Belle gets her curly hair from. :)

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

incentive plan

So I don't intend to document our potty training process, the messes, the clean ups, the dirty (literally) details. I find the details of it mainly involve bodily functions. And I just don't see the value of discussing bodily functions in depth here, beyond potentially embarrassing my girl someday in the future, which I never want to do. However, this is pretty much my favorite story of the week. And if she stays true to her character, she'll laugh at herself someday on this one too.

So as I've mentioned, Belle's not particularly interested in potty training yet. (Which we're fine with; although she's in size six Huggies with no room to grow.) We do however discuss it often and she knows exactly what we're talking about and how the whole process works. I'm a big fan of reading your child's cues when possible instead of forcing milestones or development unnecessarily. And so I'm quite content to start the process when she's ready. Of course, if she's like 43 years old and still wearing a diaper, I might say something. Like, "Perhaps you should move out, Dear."

That said, yesterday she kept wanting to sit on her potty (clothed) and use some toilet paper. I kept telling her that if she wanted to use toilet paper, she had to actually use the potty. She had me take off her diaper a few times with no success. Then finally at the end of the day, she managed a few drips. You should have seen that proud smile.

I celebrated and cheered through deep belly laughs. She forced herself to use the bathroom just TO GET SOME TOILET PAPER? As I high fived her and generally acted like a silly happy mom, she goes, "Toy-et paper?" Like, "Hey, I did what you asked. Hand it over."

Who needs sticker charts and incentive plans or treats and toys when you have toilet paper.

Seriously, I think she gets more awesome every day.

Note: No pictures of her sitting on the pot. You're welcome teenage Annabelle. 

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

the list is ever growing...

...but here are some of the things I plan to indulge in shortly after my little babe arrives...

*Pillsbury chocolate chip cookies (straight from the tube of dough)
*cupcakes (red velvet sound particularly delightful)
*Reeses white chocolate eggs (totally bought some for myself at
Easter time and hid them {from myself})
*mallow fruit dip (with or without fruit)
*Hershey Kisses (the plain ol' milk chocolate ones)
*peanut butter pretzel and toffee bonbons (I haven't ever had these {obviously} 
but I've been wanting them since she posted the recipe)
*oatmeal coconut chewies (if you haven't tried these cookies, you haven't lived - 
even if you think you don't like coconut - try these)
*Rhodes rolls (warning: I may eat the entire Sunday dinner basket of rolls...
it may be wise to make a pan just for me)
*Butterfinger Snackerz (not because I'm a huge Butterfinger fan, 
but because I sort of consider it my calling in life to try all new chocolate treats
and these came out in the last few months)
*Diet Dr Pepper (with plenty of ice)

Any guesses on how rotund I'll become in the week after giving birth?
But getting fat will never taste so good.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

happy mother's day

Written in October 2009, just a few months after Annabelle was born:

...The best part is sometimes I think she listens to me. Not exactly to my words, although she does seem to do that as well, but to something inside me, as though being inside me taught her to listen differently. She knows just when to snuggle her face into mine as she sits on my lap talking (she chats quite regularly these days), those big eyes smiling up at me, her baby hand holding my chin. This bond, this ability to communicate, is not something I expected or contemplated those long nine months. It runs deeper than I could've ever imagined. Oh how I hope that the both of us can just keep listening. Because there are some pretty spectacular things to hear.

For what I've heard the last two years, I'm so very grateful. And for what I'll continue to hear for years to come I'm forever grateful. Motherhood is my favorite thing. I love it even more than chocolate and cupcakes. I'm so very lucky to be a mom, and I thank those who've made me so - my mom for providing the perfect mold for me to attempt to squeeze my too tall body into, my husband for embarking on parenthood with me and supporting me at every turn, and my babies(!!) for truly making me a mother. I'm living my dream, one filled with chubby, yummy toddler ideas and on-the-inside kicks and nudges. There isn't anything better.

Happy Mother's Day all.

Friday, May 6, 2011

matters of the heart

 I just want to say to any man who tries to steal her heart someday - good luck.
Because her Daddy's got it completely.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

a labored confession

Confession: I don't know how to go into labor. And it stresses me out.

With Annabelle, I was induced. It's a long painful (not really - epidural wiped that away) story, but the gist is: I had pregnancy-induced hypertension and was showing signs of pre-eclampsia. Of course, now we prefer to blame it on the thyroid, which was taking my blood pressure and flushing it down the toilet. That and my metabolism and any bodily power I had to keep my eyes open. Thyroid took it all and flushed it.

Anyway - I was induced to avoid any further complications. My body wasn't technically ready to have a baby, so my doctor put a balloon-like instrument in my cervix (no really) the night before I gave birth to dilate me a bit (I wasn't dilated at all), came in the next morning and broke my water, and we waited (and waited) (and waited) for my body to do its thing. Thankfully, it did, without the use of any additional medication besides that wonderful epidural.

I never timed my contractions, had my water break in the middle of the grocery store, woke up my husband in the middle of the night to tell him it was "time." I showed up when they told me to and gave birth per the hospital's schedule.

I'm seriously stressed about this. I have this sinking feeling that my water will break in the most awkward of places at the most awkward time, like in the middle of a heartfelt prayer at church or something. "And please bless the..." WOOSH. And then what? Do I apologize for my bodily fluid and get my hind parts (quite literally) to the hospital? Or should I attempt to clean up the mess first. And with what? The pack of wet wipes in my diaper bag?

I seriously can't handle thinking about it much. Although I'm not likely to have high blood pressure issues again (it's generally only common with the first pregnancy, plus my thyroid has been tamed), and I don't necessarily want to be induced again, I don't think I'd cry about it if it got to that. Then again, being induced caused like three years of labor (with an epidural, so I can't complain too loudly). I wonder if my body could do it quicker on its own? Heck if I know. All I know is I can't stop thinking about the awkwardness of water breaking. It keeps me up at night.

Oh wait. That's my constant use of the restroom. Good times.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011


So I realize that these lifestyle blogs are all the rage these days, the ones where girls wear super cute clothes and take pictures of themselves and pretend that it's totally easy to just look awesome the minute you wake up, never mind the sippies and dirty diapers and moaning babies. Looking hot is easy!

We thought we'd join them. Easy peasy. Don't forget to wear your underwear backwards. Outside of your clothes. 

Anyone interested in being our sponsor (i.e., sending us free clothes to model then shamelessly promote)? Because really. This is where it's at.

Don't forget to spill some black beans on your shirt for good measure. Perf.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

eye see you

So when I went to my 25 week check up, I mentioned to my doctor that although I sounded crazy, I was pretty sure my eyelashes were falling out. And perhaps a normal person wouldn't notice such a thing, but for someone who's rather vain about her eyelashes, it's a thing. My OB took a gander at my eyes, then told me to call the endocrinologist (thyroid doc) because it wasn't pregnancy, but it could be my thyroid. And I was all, "Oh, you mean that blasted defunct organ that I blame most of life's problems on? Okay, sure."

So then I called Nurse Wendy (we talk at least once a month) who told me to have my blood drawn, even though I'd just had some sucked out of me two weeks before and things looked good (with a minor hormone adjustment). So I got my blood drawn. After she got the results and the doctor reviewed them, she called me and said there was no way it was my thyroid, but was I picking at my eyes? I was indignant. Picking at my eyes? What, am I two?

And then that night as I rolled around in my non-sleep, I realized that indeed, I WAS PICKING AT MY EYES. For real. As I flailed my pregnant body around, desperate to find sleep, I was tugging off the mascara that I never wash off before bed (it's waterproof), and I WAS PLUCKING MY VANITY OUT, eyelash by eyelash.

So yes, I'm two.

I was remotely (read: totally) embarrassed and went to the store the very next day and bought industrial strength makeup remover. That way, even if my fingers do become temporarily possessed and want to claw at something while I'm half asleep, at least there's nothing to extract from my eyes. Maybe I could subconsciously start pulling out the gray hair on my head. Now that would be a useful, while-you-weren't-sleeping activity.

The good news? My eyelashes are growing back. My vanity is slowly being restored.

NOTE: Photo is from many moons ago. When I had eyelashes. And bangs. The good ol' days.

Monday, May 2, 2011

22 at 22

Bella Boo, at 22 months, you're not only two frighteningly short months away from being two years old, but also:

1. You know how the plaster on some ceilings is in funky designs, and if you stare long enough, you can see shapes and objects? One day, you were laying on the couch, and said, "A horse!" And sure enough, when I looked up and squinted real hard, a horse formed up on the ceiling. Such an imagination. You regularly point out the horse to me.
2. You've added a large vocabulary of jibberish to your regular vocabulary. We call it "the heavenly language," as we're pretty sure you're telling us all sorts of secrets. Like if the baby is a boy or girl?
3. When you had a little cold, and your nose started to run too much for your liking, you'd request your "not cough," which is to say, "snot cloth," which is to make me giggle every time.
4. You know all your letters (uppercase only still, although you now recognize that "little" letters exist) and sounds. Although the sounds for V and Z cause you some grief. Sometimes you can't get the buzzing sound out. So V sounds like F and Z sounds like S, which is really funny. But you have the other hard ones, even Q (qua!) and X (xsssssss).
5. You really love all Mexican food. Like anything I make that has a Mexican spin, you devour. You also love Greek yogurt, milk, grapes, and noodles with sauce (alfredo is your favorite).

6. You can communicate almost anything you need to - if we don't understand, you'll use other words we do understand until we figure it out. It's pretty amazing. You also use regular complete sentences and correct pronouns quite often. I love it when you say, "Mommy, look at dis!" You still, however, say, "I washee," for "I'm sorry." And I have no intention of correcting it. It's too cute!
7. You've finally got a handle on your colors. You (usually) know pink, blue, green, yellow, orange, brown, black, and purple. Red is a crap shoot. You think it's pink.
8. You lost your ability to count to ten for a while. Like you couldn't count at all. It was pretty funny. But it's back, including the forgotten number nine. You still can't remember nine to save your life. And although we've worked on it, recognizing numbers by sight isn't so much setting in like the letters did. Every number is a one (if it's straight) or a three (if it's curved) to you. :)
9. You're still obsessed with Woody. I'm about ready to toss the DVD in the river. If we had one... The worst part is that you can now remove DVDs from the player, correctly put them away, and put in whatever you want. So even when we tell you no, you sneakily put it in. The good news is you don't know how to run the remote controls. Yet. You also love Tangled, "Pops" (Seabiscuit, yes a really random choice for a toddler), and "Mickey Mouse" (Ratatouille). And "More Girls" (Gilmore Girls), which does your Mama proud.
10. While you do love nursery, you've had a few rough weeks. Usually you're fine being left there, but lately you just want Mommy or Daddy to stay with you. My guess is that the few new kids in nursery who are terrified and scream at the top of their lungs have taught you you're supposed to be scared. In any case, you do still love nursery and talk about it all week.

11. You love to wear shoes still, but you particularly love wearing two different shoes. I suppose you're maximizing your options? I particularly love how you tie your shoes by sticking the ends of the laces in the empty holes. Very clever.
12. You've started to "read" by yourself. You'll bring me books to read, then sit down and say, "No, Ah-Belle do it," and proceed to "read" me your books.
13. You know that when Mommy gets her "bud dawn" (blood drawn), you get a free sucker. After they wrap my arm, you stand there until the sucker is produced.
14. I finally took you to the library this month. I didn't want to take you when you'd be too loud, although you're generally extraordinarily well-behaved, so I'm not sure why I didn't do it sooner. In any case, you loved it. You took plenty of time to sort through the books and choose a few. And then we read them over and over and over when we got home.
15. You like to recite what people say. For example, "Kimmy say: 'Hi baby!'" or "Gram say: 'Charlene Cheney!'" or "Whitney say: 'Rock an' Roll!'"
16. Almost every time I go to get you in the morning or after a nap, you ask, as though you're hoping I'll correct the assumption, "Daddy woke?" (Daddy at work?) When he is home, you practically leap out of your crib to go see him.
17. You love to color, and you've started trying to write letters. I know that sounds crazy at your age, but I've watched you do it. You can scribble out Ms and Is and Ws, sometimes intentionally. Usually it's on accident, but you get so excited when you see you've made a letter.
18. You used to go to bed with just your blanky. Now you take blanky, white, and a few toys, usually Sheepy, Dolly, and Baby. Although one night you took a letter C, a truck, and two phones.
19. You have no interest in using the toilet. In fact, you don't want to talk about it at all. This doesn't concern me much as I secretly want to do it after the baby is born in case you want to revert to diapers, as some kiddos tend to do. When we ask if you want to use the potty, you adamantly shake your body in a no, and shout, "Nooooo!"

20. You love playing with Legos. I know it's not a typical toddler toy, but it's one of your favorites. Especially if Daddy will build something with you. (You don't generally request that Mommy builds with you - apparently I don't have those skills. :) )
21. You're scared of the linoleum square tiles at grocery stores. It's a crack up. You won't walk on them unless I hold your hand. Maybe they're too shiny? In any case, it's fine with me because it means you're still happy riding in the cart.
22. You still prefer drinking your sippies reclined. It's pretty much my favorite routine ever: you take your sippy, find your blanky, set it up "just so" on the floor or couch, and lay down. You're fully capable of sitting like a big girl and drinking your sippies, but if you have an option, you'll definitely take the lounging one.


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