Don't get me wrong. Rainzilla strikes every day. Today, for instance, she quietly pushed her stroller to the edge of the garage, gave it a shove, and watched it race down our steep driveway into the street. As it rolled to certain doom, she growled with glee and stomped her feet.
But, there are also times when Rain surprises me in a good way, too. About two weeks ago, I was resting on my bed. Rain was playing beside me while I hoped she'd take a nap. For no reason, she stopped playing and crawled next to my face. Then, quite seriously, she kissed me full on the lips.
Now, as close as my family is, we don't do that. My brothers and sisters hug a lot and are always saying, "I love you." But, we don't kiss on the lips. Sure, we kiss our mama on the cheek, but that's it.
After Rain kissed me, she stared intently at me for a reaction. I was stunned. I had no idea she would do that. Frankly, I was perplexed, so ... I laughed. I felt bad for a second, because I wasn't sure if that was the reaction she wanted. But, when Rain saw I was laughing, she kissed me again. This time she SMOTHERED me. I couldn't breathe (plus, I was laughing hard), so I begged Tim to peel her off me.
Since then, she's kissed me several times as she giggles and hugs me. The funniest part is each time she does it, she approaches me slowly and seriously, then it's all laughs. So, even though Rainzilla shows up every day growling and stomping ... Rainbow isn't far behind.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Rainzilla & The Saint
Above, Rain is wearing a "My Name is Not No!No!" shirt. She is sitting next to Buddha--er--I mean Madison. Madi is so very, very low-key that, well, it only makes Rain seem even more high maintenance.
Today Rain & I went for walk with her stroller. No, Rain didn't go for a walk in her stroller, she went for a walk with her stroller. She insisted on pushing the stroller herself the entire time. She has a Jeep stroller, which is really cool, but a bit on the heavy side. If I tried to guide the stroller, she'd scream. So, there we were walking down the street, and Rain is huffing and puffing to keep the stroller going. But, she keeps veering to the right, so we are hitting the curb over and over again (and cars, too, but don't tell the neighbors). She fell on her knees and scraped them no less than four times. Each time she'd screech for just a second, and she'd get back up all tra-la-la everything's daisy. "What's that?" she'd say conversationally."Oh, wow!"
"Honey, let Mommy help you," I said, and tried to guide the stroller. Every time she started crying.
SO STUBBORN!
My niece calls Rain, "Rainzilla." I'd ask her to be more polite, but if the shoe fits ...
The unsung hero in all this is Tim. Tim is the most patient man I know, and for his actions this morning, I will now sing his praises.
Last night, we went to bed at 11:00. Rain seemed fine and her crib, and I fell asleep quickly watching Planet Earth on the Discovery Channel (weird dreams about otters to follow).
5:00 A.M.
At 5:00 in the Ahhh Morning, Rain decided bedtime was over. She wailed for one hour. For one hour, Tim & I tried to soothe her with medicine, ice, food--nothing worked. We were sure it was her teeth again, but nothing would calm her down. I was falling asleep trying to get Rain to quit crying. Tim, who had to go to work this morning, said, "I'll walk her around." He took her out of the bedroom, and I assumed they would fall asleep on the couch together as they do on rough nights. Not long after, Rain stopped crying, and I fell asleep.
I woke up a bit before 8:00. Turned out, Rain never went to sleep. She just just stopped crying. Tim had decided to start his morning (make coffee, eat breakfast, water the lawn, and the like) since Rain wouldn't go to sleep.
Are you kidding? I was so upset with Rain, who by the way, seemed more than happy to have Daddy as her playmate for an extra 3 hours this morning. I also felt terrible that Tim had taken it upon himself to keep Rain happy.
The minute Tim left for work (tired, I'm sure), I looked at Rain and said, "You're going to bed."
Rainzilla did her best to get me to let her watch The Wiggles, but I wasn't having it. I put her in a bear hold, and she eventually went to sleep (or passed out, not sure).
You know, my friend just had a baby last week. I visited them at the hospital, and there the little girl was, so cute and small. The parents were very happy and proud, of course. It made me wonder about the possibility of having another kid. But even as I held that sweet little baby in my arms, I recalled Jeff Foxworthy's warning:
Godzilla used to be a little lizard, too.
Today Rain & I went for walk with her stroller. No, Rain didn't go for a walk in her stroller, she went for a walk with her stroller. She insisted on pushing the stroller herself the entire time. She has a Jeep stroller, which is really cool, but a bit on the heavy side. If I tried to guide the stroller, she'd scream. So, there we were walking down the street, and Rain is huffing and puffing to keep the stroller going. But, she keeps veering to the right, so we are hitting the curb over and over again (and cars, too, but don't tell the neighbors). She fell on her knees and scraped them no less than four times. Each time she'd screech for just a second, and she'd get back up all tra-la-la everything's daisy. "What's that?" she'd say conversationally."Oh, wow!"
"Honey, let Mommy help you," I said, and tried to guide the stroller. Every time she started crying.
SO STUBBORN!
My niece calls Rain, "Rainzilla." I'd ask her to be more polite, but if the shoe fits ...
The unsung hero in all this is Tim. Tim is the most patient man I know, and for his actions this morning, I will now sing his praises.
Last night, we went to bed at 11:00. Rain seemed fine and her crib, and I fell asleep quickly watching Planet Earth on the Discovery Channel (weird dreams about otters to follow).
5:00 A.M.
At 5:00 in the Ahhh Morning, Rain decided bedtime was over. She wailed for one hour. For one hour, Tim & I tried to soothe her with medicine, ice, food--nothing worked. We were sure it was her teeth again, but nothing would calm her down. I was falling asleep trying to get Rain to quit crying. Tim, who had to go to work this morning, said, "I'll walk her around." He took her out of the bedroom, and I assumed they would fall asleep on the couch together as they do on rough nights. Not long after, Rain stopped crying, and I fell asleep.
I woke up a bit before 8:00. Turned out, Rain never went to sleep. She just just stopped crying. Tim had decided to start his morning (make coffee, eat breakfast, water the lawn, and the like) since Rain wouldn't go to sleep.
Are you kidding? I was so upset with Rain, who by the way, seemed more than happy to have Daddy as her playmate for an extra 3 hours this morning. I also felt terrible that Tim had taken it upon himself to keep Rain happy.
The minute Tim left for work (tired, I'm sure), I looked at Rain and said, "You're going to bed."
Rainzilla did her best to get me to let her watch The Wiggles, but I wasn't having it. I put her in a bear hold, and she eventually went to sleep (or passed out, not sure).
You know, my friend just had a baby last week. I visited them at the hospital, and there the little girl was, so cute and small. The parents were very happy and proud, of course. It made me wonder about the possibility of having another kid. But even as I held that sweet little baby in my arms, I recalled Jeff Foxworthy's warning:
Godzilla used to be a little lizard, too.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Where Have I Been?
I know, I know, I was AWOL. Please, allow me to explain.
This past Saturday, a very kind lady from our church threw a housewarming party for me & Tim. It is the first of two parties. Why two? To be honest ... the situation is delicate. We originally thought we'd have one open house/housewarming for all of our friends, family, and church. But, the day after the hostess gave us extra invitations to pass out to friends (she'd already given invites to our church members), she received some very bad family news (the kind that makes the mouth drop open). So, there Tim and I were, completely unsure of how to handle things. Should we urge her to cancel the whole thing? Postpone it? In the end, we decided not to burden this nice lady with more stress. We decided we'd go through with the open house, and have a second smaller thing later on. The whole situation, especially the fact that our house was entirely unrepresentable for 1 party, let alone 2, had me ruffled.
Our house, since we've moved in, has looked like a garage sale. Everything is mixed up, and boxes are half-opened. In the weeks leading up to Saturday's party, when anybody asked how things were coming along, I smiled and said, "We're getting there." Thing is, I didn't tell them that "there" was "buried alive." To see chaos in every room was extracting my inner Martha.
"Shelves! Shelves! We need more shelves!" I'd cry, but no matter how many Home Depot & IKEA trips we made, it was never enough.
Around this time, a funny thing began to happen. My hands, randomly throughout the day, would get that "pins and needles" feeling. At first, I thought I was having a case of carpal tunnel. I mean, I had been painting rooms, assembling furniture, cleaning--my paws were worn out. But then, the tingling feeling started happening more and more and for longer periods of time. In fact, I woke up one night with both arms in painful tingles.
Tim, observing me as I reorganized books, removed the dry cleaning from the metal hangers they come on to regular ones, and ate dinner in front of the computer just so I could finish editing a newsletter, said, "You have, like, OCD. Why don't you take a break?"
But, how was the laundry going to get done? Or dinner? Or the thank you cards we owe a few people? Did anyone order tickets yet for our Florida trip? Has anybody seen Rain??
During this whole time, Rain had been irritated with me. She wanted to play, read books, go outside--all the things we did at our apartment--and I was over there organizing color swatches so we could paint the home office.
All the while, my body has been showing warning signs. When my back would give out, I would tell Tim, "Honey, just hand me something I can work on while I'm sitting," instead of taking a break.
The thing is, I can't stop myself. It's not Tim, and it's not Rain. If I'm not doing two or three things at a time, I feel like I'm not getting anything done. Maybe I have ADD or something.
Anyway, so how did Saturday's party go?
Fine, of course. It went fine. That's the thing: during the party I was thinking, "Why did I make such a big deal about this?" Everyone I know is nice, so of course, they were nothing but polite about the house. Why was I working like Simon Cowell was coming to rate my place?
This week, Tim will be out of town for work. His final instructions to me were, "I want you to do something for me while I'm gone: do not work on the house. Go do something fun. Take a break. I want this place to look the same when I get back, OK?"
That's sad. When someone has to tell you to take a break, things have gotten out of hand. So, here I am. What should I do first? Order something off of Amazon?
Of course. But I'll have to read email, flip through a People magazine, and listen to the This American Life podcast at the same time, too. Sorry. Rome wasn't built in a day.
This past Saturday, a very kind lady from our church threw a housewarming party for me & Tim. It is the first of two parties. Why two? To be honest ... the situation is delicate. We originally thought we'd have one open house/housewarming for all of our friends, family, and church. But, the day after the hostess gave us extra invitations to pass out to friends (she'd already given invites to our church members), she received some very bad family news (the kind that makes the mouth drop open). So, there Tim and I were, completely unsure of how to handle things. Should we urge her to cancel the whole thing? Postpone it? In the end, we decided not to burden this nice lady with more stress. We decided we'd go through with the open house, and have a second smaller thing later on. The whole situation, especially the fact that our house was entirely unrepresentable for 1 party, let alone 2, had me ruffled.
Our house, since we've moved in, has looked like a garage sale. Everything is mixed up, and boxes are half-opened. In the weeks leading up to Saturday's party, when anybody asked how things were coming along, I smiled and said, "We're getting there." Thing is, I didn't tell them that "there" was "buried alive." To see chaos in every room was extracting my inner Martha.
"Shelves! Shelves! We need more shelves!" I'd cry, but no matter how many Home Depot & IKEA trips we made, it was never enough.
Around this time, a funny thing began to happen. My hands, randomly throughout the day, would get that "pins and needles" feeling. At first, I thought I was having a case of carpal tunnel. I mean, I had been painting rooms, assembling furniture, cleaning--my paws were worn out. But then, the tingling feeling started happening more and more and for longer periods of time. In fact, I woke up one night with both arms in painful tingles.
Tim, observing me as I reorganized books, removed the dry cleaning from the metal hangers they come on to regular ones, and ate dinner in front of the computer just so I could finish editing a newsletter, said, "You have, like, OCD. Why don't you take a break?"
But, how was the laundry going to get done? Or dinner? Or the thank you cards we owe a few people? Did anyone order tickets yet for our Florida trip? Has anybody seen Rain??
During this whole time, Rain had been irritated with me. She wanted to play, read books, go outside--all the things we did at our apartment--and I was over there organizing color swatches so we could paint the home office.
All the while, my body has been showing warning signs. When my back would give out, I would tell Tim, "Honey, just hand me something I can work on while I'm sitting," instead of taking a break.
The thing is, I can't stop myself. It's not Tim, and it's not Rain. If I'm not doing two or three things at a time, I feel like I'm not getting anything done. Maybe I have ADD or something.
Anyway, so how did Saturday's party go?
Fine, of course. It went fine. That's the thing: during the party I was thinking, "Why did I make such a big deal about this?" Everyone I know is nice, so of course, they were nothing but polite about the house. Why was I working like Simon Cowell was coming to rate my place?
This week, Tim will be out of town for work. His final instructions to me were, "I want you to do something for me while I'm gone: do not work on the house. Go do something fun. Take a break. I want this place to look the same when I get back, OK?"
That's sad. When someone has to tell you to take a break, things have gotten out of hand. So, here I am. What should I do first? Order something off of Amazon?
Of course. But I'll have to read email, flip through a People magazine, and listen to the This American Life podcast at the same time, too. Sorry. Rome wasn't built in a day.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Hardcore
Rain is hardcore.
And not because when she got 2 shots last Friday, she didn't cry.
And not because she shook off the fact that she scratched her face with a DVD case; slipped and slammed her face into a door; and didn't throw a fit when her two new teeth cut through her gums--and that was all in one day.
Rain is hardcore because although I was sure she would never forgive me or do anything but rage while we tried to wean her, she has proved herself to be made of tougher stuff.
Since last Friday when we started this whole thing, we've both had our moments, to be sure. The first few mornings were hard. Rain cried Sunday morning from 4:30 onwards and woke up every 30 minutes while Tim carried her and tried to calm her (I was sequestered in another room). The next morning, bleary-eyed, he asked, "So, did you hear her at all last night?"
"Are you kidding? I was staring up at the ceiling all night. My chest, back, and side were hurting, and listening to her cry was the worst," I said.
But besides a few times where she almost fell off the wagon, she's been fantastic. Today is Day 9, and she's sort of just accepted that things have changed.
I have mixed feelings about breastfeeding, as I've said from the beginning. I know there are moms-to-be out there who want to know how things really go down with breastfeeding after you bring that kiddo home from the hospital. You're going to find out anyway, right? So, here's the deal, naked but true:
The Bad News
1. Breastfeeding may be ease-as-cheese for some new moms to learn, especially if their moms were all tree-huggin' woodsy nude colonist hippie types who were all exposed to breastfeeding as children, but it was HARD for me to learn. My mom came from the formula generation, and breastfeeding just seemed to risky to her (what if the baby doesn't get enough milk?). I had no instincts about it, and it took me months (three or four) to feel entirely confident about it. The first month was torture, as I endured much pain/embarrassment trying to get a decent technique going.
2. Shameless. After delivering a baby while naked in a room full of strangers, you'd think I'd have no shame left to speak of. Whatever shriveled bit of pride managed to crawl out of the delivery room was strangled during my first months of breastfeeding. Rain was hungry all the time, and that meant I had to be ready to feed her whenever and wherever we were. In the middle of dinner, at a movie, in a store--wherever we were, I had to find a semi-private, clean space to feed her. The added stress of avoiding attention only made nursing more difficult and uncomfortable.
3. Besides plumbers, only new moms know the evils of leaking. Breast pads are helpful, but it's only a matter of time before you forget an "accident" happens. An accident?? That's for, like, kindergarten when you wet your pants!
The Good News
1. Initially, breastfeeding helped me lose weight. Now, it's all gotta come from hard work (sigh).
2. This is the straight up truth: for the first year of Rain's life, she was never, ever sick. Not even once. Yeah, she got feverish when she teethed, but she never had earaches, stomach troubles, skin issues--nothing. Obviously, Rain was able to stay healthy in part because she wasn't exposed to daycare germs, but I know my antibodies had something to do with it, too. She was around a lot of people all of the time and managed to avoid illness. True story.
3. Ok, once you get the hang of nursing it is convenient. And the sooner you get over the shyness of feeding your kiddo in a public setting, the happier you'll be. Honestly, I'm ashamed to admit, I was always sort of disgusted by breastfeeding when I was single. I just didn't get it. But once I got used to it, I was like, "Who cares? I'm not showing any part of my body in public, so really, who cares what I'm doing?" I got so good at it, in fact, and I'm so not joking here, I could do it while having a conversation with someone (as we strolled along) who had no idea what was going on. I could hold Rain just right with a strategically placed blanket that people thought Rain was just sleeping. Um, no. It was a necessity, I'm telling you. If I had gone into a locked room every time Rain had to nurse, I would never have gotten anything done.
4. And finally, the best reason for nursing Rain was this: I don't know if Rain will ever be as safe and happy as she was when I held her. I used to tell Tim, "You know, she looks at me for a few minutes, closes her eyes, and as she goes to sleep I just know. I know she's safe, and I'm at that moment providing everything for her." It was so weird but very calming. Like most babies, Rain would fall asleep nursing, and watching her breathe, peaceful and perfect, I felt very ... whole.
And not because when she got 2 shots last Friday, she didn't cry.
And not because she shook off the fact that she scratched her face with a DVD case; slipped and slammed her face into a door; and didn't throw a fit when her two new teeth cut through her gums--and that was all in one day.
Rain is hardcore because although I was sure she would never forgive me or do anything but rage while we tried to wean her, she has proved herself to be made of tougher stuff.
Since last Friday when we started this whole thing, we've both had our moments, to be sure. The first few mornings were hard. Rain cried Sunday morning from 4:30 onwards and woke up every 30 minutes while Tim carried her and tried to calm her (I was sequestered in another room). The next morning, bleary-eyed, he asked, "So, did you hear her at all last night?"
"Are you kidding? I was staring up at the ceiling all night. My chest, back, and side were hurting, and listening to her cry was the worst," I said.
But besides a few times where she almost fell off the wagon, she's been fantastic. Today is Day 9, and she's sort of just accepted that things have changed.
I have mixed feelings about breastfeeding, as I've said from the beginning. I know there are moms-to-be out there who want to know how things really go down with breastfeeding after you bring that kiddo home from the hospital. You're going to find out anyway, right? So, here's the deal, naked but true:
The Bad News
1. Breastfeeding may be ease-as-cheese for some new moms to learn, especially if their moms were all tree-huggin' woodsy nude colonist hippie types who were all exposed to breastfeeding as children, but it was HARD for me to learn. My mom came from the formula generation, and breastfeeding just seemed to risky to her (what if the baby doesn't get enough milk?). I had no instincts about it, and it took me months (three or four) to feel entirely confident about it. The first month was torture, as I endured much pain/embarrassment trying to get a decent technique going.
2. Shameless. After delivering a baby while naked in a room full of strangers, you'd think I'd have no shame left to speak of. Whatever shriveled bit of pride managed to crawl out of the delivery room was strangled during my first months of breastfeeding. Rain was hungry all the time, and that meant I had to be ready to feed her whenever and wherever we were. In the middle of dinner, at a movie, in a store--wherever we were, I had to find a semi-private, clean space to feed her. The added stress of avoiding attention only made nursing more difficult and uncomfortable.
3. Besides plumbers, only new moms know the evils of leaking. Breast pads are helpful, but it's only a matter of time before you forget an "accident" happens. An accident?? That's for, like, kindergarten when you wet your pants!
The Good News
1. Initially, breastfeeding helped me lose weight. Now, it's all gotta come from hard work (sigh).
2. This is the straight up truth: for the first year of Rain's life, she was never, ever sick. Not even once. Yeah, she got feverish when she teethed, but she never had earaches, stomach troubles, skin issues--nothing. Obviously, Rain was able to stay healthy in part because she wasn't exposed to daycare germs, but I know my antibodies had something to do with it, too. She was around a lot of people all of the time and managed to avoid illness. True story.
3. Ok, once you get the hang of nursing it is convenient. And the sooner you get over the shyness of feeding your kiddo in a public setting, the happier you'll be. Honestly, I'm ashamed to admit, I was always sort of disgusted by breastfeeding when I was single. I just didn't get it. But once I got used to it, I was like, "Who cares? I'm not showing any part of my body in public, so really, who cares what I'm doing?" I got so good at it, in fact, and I'm so not joking here, I could do it while having a conversation with someone (as we strolled along) who had no idea what was going on. I could hold Rain just right with a strategically placed blanket that people thought Rain was just sleeping. Um, no. It was a necessity, I'm telling you. If I had gone into a locked room every time Rain had to nurse, I would never have gotten anything done.
4. And finally, the best reason for nursing Rain was this: I don't know if Rain will ever be as safe and happy as she was when I held her. I used to tell Tim, "You know, she looks at me for a few minutes, closes her eyes, and as she goes to sleep I just know. I know she's safe, and I'm at that moment providing everything for her." It was so weird but very calming. Like most babies, Rain would fall asleep nursing, and watching her breathe, peaceful and perfect, I felt very ... whole.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Wow
Ok, not many things make me feel overwhelmed and all excited and inspired, but here it is:
Today, I went to the ol' post office box, and not only were there Pokey Notes waiting for Raeleigh but donations, too. YOU GUYS ROCK.
Seriously, thank you, thank you, thank you.
For those who haven't had a chance to visit the site (racetoraeleigh.com) or have been on the fence about it, please, please take the time to send a Pokey Note or donation. 100% of donations will go to Raeleigh. Those of you who have had to deal with long-term illness in your families know how difficult and expensive medical treatment is to take and endure.
Thanks, again--woo-hoo!
Today, I went to the ol' post office box, and not only were there Pokey Notes waiting for Raeleigh but donations, too. YOU GUYS ROCK.
Seriously, thank you, thank you, thank you.
For those who haven't had a chance to visit the site (racetoraeleigh.com) or have been on the fence about it, please, please take the time to send a Pokey Note or donation. 100% of donations will go to Raeleigh. Those of you who have had to deal with long-term illness in your families know how difficult and expensive medical treatment is to take and endure.
Thanks, again--woo-hoo!
Queen Bee
We are in the process of weaning Rain (oh you know there's gonna be a blog about that later), so this is not the time to be teaching her new rules or correcting her. She's teething (3 coming in on the top) as well, so she's in no mood for shenanigans. Basically, for the past week I've been letting her eat whatever she wants with abandon ("Those round salty things, honey? Those are called 'chips.' Good, huh?").
Yesterday, there was 1 chocolate pudding snack left, so I pulled out 2 spoons: 1 regular spoon and one plastic baby spoon. We always share because Rain never eats a whole container by herself.
I put Rain in her high chair, and I filled up her baby spoon. Rain is pretty good with her spoons, so she took it from me and fed herself. I dipped her spoon again, and again, she took it from me and fed herself. After she got the pattern, I took my spoon and took a bite. I put it down, picked up her spoon, and handed it to her. We did this for a minute, taking turns eating, as Rain eyed the situation.
Finally, she smiled very sweetly and put her spoon down. She looked at me, and very gently took away my spoon, and gave me the baby spoon to use.
"Rain, that's Mommy's spoon," I said. She continued eating, and I was all, "What are you, queen bee now, too, like Mommy??"
Pah!
If we're both queen bees, I can just hear Tim: "What am I, then?! A worker, a drone?"
*Awkward silence*
Yesterday, there was 1 chocolate pudding snack left, so I pulled out 2 spoons: 1 regular spoon and one plastic baby spoon. We always share because Rain never eats a whole container by herself.
I put Rain in her high chair, and I filled up her baby spoon. Rain is pretty good with her spoons, so she took it from me and fed herself. I dipped her spoon again, and again, she took it from me and fed herself. After she got the pattern, I took my spoon and took a bite. I put it down, picked up her spoon, and handed it to her. We did this for a minute, taking turns eating, as Rain eyed the situation.
Finally, she smiled very sweetly and put her spoon down. She looked at me, and very gently took away my spoon, and gave me the baby spoon to use.
"Rain, that's Mommy's spoon," I said. She continued eating, and I was all, "What are you, queen bee now, too, like Mommy??"
Pah!
If we're both queen bees, I can just hear Tim: "What am I, then?! A worker, a drone?"
*Awkward silence*
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The Natives are Restless
You want sex ed for teens? I got it right here:
Kids kill.
Toddlers are out to kill themselves and you, and is that what you'd rather be dealing with instead of picking a dress for prom? Go back to your texting!
Five minutes ago, in all seriousness, this is what Rain and me were doing:
Rain was flat on her stomach. I was on top of her, on all fours, shoving my finger in her mouth. She, in turn, was slapping her arms around and jerking her head side to side, so I couldn't fish out the Styrofoam peanuts she was eating. Do you think me saying, "But you almost swallowed a shirt pin this morning!!" did any good?
I wriggled out half a peanut, and Rain took off for the kitchen. She's mad I've got half her meal, so she immediately pulls out a kitchen chair and climbs on top. We have told her many, many, many and more times not to climb on the table.
I quickly removed her from the chair, put it back in its place, and reminded her that, no, we don't climb chairs on my watch.
Rain, in probably the funniest thing I've seen her do lately, raced around the table, and in one swift move, threw back a chair, jumped on it like she was sliding into home base, and gripped the chair like, "Bring it, Mom!"
It was so fast and perfectly performed that I turned my face to the ceiling, and while silently laughing said, "Rain! Hehehe ... We don't climb chairs, I told you! hehehe ... Stop and get off ..."
Sigh. I'm just not fit for this job.
In closing, I'll part with the words my four-year-old niece said. When asked, "What do toddlers do?"
She answered right away. "Destroy things!"
Kids kill.
Toddlers are out to kill themselves and you, and is that what you'd rather be dealing with instead of picking a dress for prom? Go back to your texting!
Five minutes ago, in all seriousness, this is what Rain and me were doing:
Rain was flat on her stomach. I was on top of her, on all fours, shoving my finger in her mouth. She, in turn, was slapping her arms around and jerking her head side to side, so I couldn't fish out the Styrofoam peanuts she was eating. Do you think me saying, "But you almost swallowed a shirt pin this morning!!" did any good?
I wriggled out half a peanut, and Rain took off for the kitchen. She's mad I've got half her meal, so she immediately pulls out a kitchen chair and climbs on top. We have told her many, many, many and more times not to climb on the table.
I quickly removed her from the chair, put it back in its place, and reminded her that, no, we don't climb chairs on my watch.
Rain, in probably the funniest thing I've seen her do lately, raced around the table, and in one swift move, threw back a chair, jumped on it like she was sliding into home base, and gripped the chair like, "Bring it, Mom!"
It was so fast and perfectly performed that I turned my face to the ceiling, and while silently laughing said, "Rain! Hehehe ... We don't climb chairs, I told you! hehehe ... Stop and get off ..."
Sigh. I'm just not fit for this job.
In closing, I'll part with the words my four-year-old niece said. When asked, "What do toddlers do?"
She answered right away. "Destroy things!"
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