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Baby Big Girl

 

How my daughter is turning three tomorrow, I have no idea. It seems like just yesterday she was a newborn. In this short period of time, she’s blossomed into a very sweet, sassy, smart, funny, stubborn, silly little girl. She holds her own with her big brother and surprises me every day with something new she’s learned, be it a song, a ballerina dance she’s made up or counting higher than the day before. She “reads” her brother books, feeds the dog water from a spoon and tells me she loves me often, and says thank you when I tell her I love her. She’s my little shadow, wanting to be around only me if I’m in the vicinity and loves to hold my hand “because it fits”, even in the house.

 

When Fussypants was turning three, I was pregnant with Little Miss and I was so ready for him to be self-sufficient. I didn’t miss him needing me to help him go potty, get a snack or put on his shoes. I was on bed rest, but still working, I was ill and exhausted and ready for him to grow up. But knowing that she’s my last baby, makes having her grow up more difficult. I guess I have a bit of the baby blues. I look at my son, about to graduate Kindergarten and my daughter, about to turn 3 and I can’t help but think of them as babies and wonder where the time went. But we are done, our family is what it is, so don’t get any ideas.

 

But back to my baby girl turning three. I know that if she had been a boy, I would have been happy and our family would have been perfect but I’m not going to lie. I love having a daughter. Every woman should have one, it’s such a humbling experience. She can bring me to my knees in a way Fussypants just doesn’t. But he can make me laugh (especially if I am angry) in a way she never has. He is so easy-peasy compared to her. Maybe it’s his personality or maybe with boys what you see is what you get, but we’ve never argued over what underwear he’s wearing that day and Little Miss and I have had daily meltdown spats over the choice of Disney character on her chonies and she’s not yet three. And don’t get me started about trying to brush her hair. We never had terrible twos with him, but the terrible twos started with her when she was 1.5. 90% of the time, she’s sweet and funny but when that 10% hits…watch out. My mom calls it “going dark”. Her whole face changes, clouding over and she stops talking. She’ll screech like a baby pterodactyl, which is unpleasant, and where we could easily use the redirection method with her brother, she’s focused on whatever it is she isn’t getting and pouts. I’m really hoping that she’s outgrown it and that we won’t have a year of the terrible threes.

 

For her birthday, she wanted a bounce house and Cinderella. So we accommodated. A friend of mine from college warned not to peak on the parties at such a young age, but having Cinderella come to the house was amazing. Little Miss was so excited, it was just the most heart-warming thing to watch. She is still talking about her visit, days later. She actually slept in her Princess dress the night of her party. My hunky fireman husband, who had worked three in a  row and was exhausted, even stopped at the Disney store on his way home to buy her a Cinderella crown (so swoon-worthy, he’s such a good daddy) and she wore it all day long.

 

On her actual birthday, my mom and I are taking her to Disneyland and she has an appointment at the Bibbiddy Bobbiddy Boutique to get a Cinderella up do by a Godmother-in-training. Over the top? Maybe. But I have a daughter and can do girlie things like that if I want to.

 

So happy 3rd birthday to my baby big girl. I love you so much, you and your brother fill my heart with sunshine, and I hope you have a wonderful day.

cake candles cinderella. family FPK_Cinderella FPK_hat FPK_princess joy Jumphouse story8

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Little Miss…Manners

Please, thank you, excuse me….all very easy words to say. It’s important to me that my children are polite. Polite children make for polite adults. There is nothing cute or endearing about a demanding child and a demanding adult is even worse.

Fussypants was polite from the womb. I had a relatively easy pregnancy, and aside from him being eight days early, a fairly easy delivery. He nursed right away, he crawled early, he walked early, he talked early and even before his vocabulary was developed, he’d sign the word for please.

Then, when he did speak, he said please and thank you before and after everything…including no, please when he didn’t want to do something. So sweet and so polite. Now, as an almost six year old, he sometimes forgets to say please but 95% of the time, he remembers.

His sister is an entirely different story. She’s been bossy since the womb. Eight weeks of bedrest because of contractions, then she arrived two weeks early. The girl wants what she wants and she wants it on her schedule.

She prefers to demand instead of ask politely. And if you don’t move quickly enough to her liking, she’s been known to push you in the direction of what she wants. She also makes this horrid EH sound, like a buzzer on a game show if she doesn’t like something. And the drama…she makes a show of what she will do if you don’t do as she wants. She took her diaper off yesterday, and demanded I peepee, CHANGE ME. My response, In a minute, I’m busy. And what do you say when you want something? She gave me the toddler stare, smiled a smile that meant she was up to no good and replied, Mama change me or I peepee on flooooorrr! Awesome. (And yes, we are working on potty training but that’s a post on its own).

So we’ve been patiently and consistently working with her to add please, thank you and excuse me to her vocabulary. 60% of the time she forgets, we remind her. 30% of the time she doubles up the good stuff…Thank you please and 10% of the time she asks so nicely, I could cry. Overall, she is a very sweet (albeit demanding) little girl and will figure out that she’ll get her way more often when she adds the please, thank you and excuse mes to her repertoire. And she’d better, because it’s important to me that my children are polite.

Until then, some days, the Princess rules the roost.

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Turning FIVE & getting to be “only-child” for a few hours

Fussypants is five years old. Yesterday was his birthday. I still can’t believe it. Five. 5, cinco, 5, fünf.

Crap.

Am I old enough to have an almost Kindergartner?

Ok, don’t answer that.

He had an amazing birthday, mostly because he was so excited to be 5. Seriously excited. Beyond seriously excited. I could have thrown mud at him and he’d still have had a good day. He told me that “5 is his favorite number and now he gets to be it”.

Isn’t that funny?

I started a tradition on his first birthday, of filling up his crib with balloons, then his room when he moved out of the crib. He woke up an hour earlier than normal and squealed in delight when he saw the balloons. I love that I can make him happy with something as simple as using my excess hot air (and I gave myself a headrush rush too. Bonus).

Taken at 6:33 am, because someone was too excited to sleep in, even though it was a holiday.

We had a hockey game the night of his birthday and he politely requested that his baby sister stay with Nana and Grandpa instead of going to the game so that he could sit on my lap, “because his sister never lets him sit on my lap” (such a little thing, to sit on mommy’s lap. I guess I need to be better at making one-on-one time with him).

My parents (the Nana and Grandpa of the aforementioned Nana and Grandpa) are amazing and didn’t hesitate to say Little Miss could spend the night with them. Seriously, beyond amazing. So we obliged his request and just the three of us went to the game. He had so much fun with my hubby and I because we could each hold a hand and lift him in the air (again, such a little thing but made him so happy). He very much enjoyed that all our attention was focused on him.

Getting hot chocolate before the hockey game. Nana gave him the sticker on his hat.

He was on a birthday high almost until midnight. The game went into overtime, then a shootout and by the time we got home and got him to bed it was close to 11pm. But it’s all good because he enjoyed every minute of his birthday. And in the wisdom of like mother, like son, he pulled the “it’s my birthday” phrase out several times. “I’m wearing sweatpants to the hockey game, because it’s my birthday”. “I’m having a corn dog and fries for lunch, because it’s my birthday”.

I Love It.

I’m a fan of birthdays because if you were never born, you’d never live so why not make the most of the YOUR day? And why just the day? Why not celebrate all week, or even all month? Birthdays are a season, are they not?

So, along that vein, I had a special treat for Fussypants this morning. I had bought a cake and a #5 candle but we didn’t get around to having any because of the hockey game, so I sang to him this morning and he blew out the candle and made a wish.

Yes, he got to eat a tiny piece for breakfast.

And at school today he got to wear an awesome dinosaur crown his teacher made for him and we brought cupcakes to share, since school was closed yesterday and I would have kept him home anyway because nobody should have to go to school on their birthday.

The cupcakes almost caused an issue but we sorted it out. He really wanted cupcakes with Lightning McQueen and Dinoco rings on them but the store (school policy, no homemade food for birthdays) didn’t have them so he settled for Thor rings. There were three different rings on the cupcakes and he told me he really wanted the hammer. So I said that he should get that one then and he said, “We are not allowed to throw a fit, we get what we get”. Clearly there has been cupcake infighting issues in the past in his classroom.

I can only hope he witnessed the fit, and wasn’t the one throwing it. 

So I told his teacher about his desire for the hammer ring, and she assured me the birthday boy would get first pick. Phew.

Due to the fact that the date of his birthday is kind of crappy, and the closest weekend this time around happened to be New Year’s Eve and New Years Day, we are not having his party until next Saturday. So he kind of gets to celebrate all week, because at school tomorrow they go to Chapel and that’s when they’ll sing Happy Birthday and he’ll get to pick a birthday bear or necklace (or so he tells me).

See, Birthday Season.

Fussypants says a lot of things that make me laugh but yesterday he said two things that made it into his Quotables book, so I’ll share. While walking into the hockey game he exclaimed, “Dude, someone just gave me a flat tire and I didn’t even know them” and when driving home he told us of this very elaborate play date he wants me to set-up with some of his buddies, to play street hockey. He was so detailed in the events that will transpire that I asked him, “Have you really thought this through or are you making it up on the fly?” and he responded, “I’m making it through”.

That’s my boy. My 5 year old boy. Making it through.

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Vacation!

I'm too cute to sit in my highchair, thank you very much

We are taking a mini family vacation Sunday-Wednesday and I’m planning on unplugging…no phone, no computer. No laundry, no traffic, no work stress…oh, I digress.

Anyway, I’m outta here! So have a happy Father’s Day and a nice weekend. Catch ya all next week!

Giving mom the cute face!

Little Miss being curious. Only a matter of time before she finds the toilet paper roll!

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Baby steps

‘Walk this way…”

“These (baby) boot(ie)s were made for walking…”

Little Miss, the late bloomer, turned 13 months old yesterday and is not yet walking. BUT, she has been zipping around with her push and pull toy. She clearly enjoys being mobile and I’m sure will be walking on her own in no time.

This post is for Wordful Wednesday. See more at Parenting BY Dummies.

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Act your age

You are my first born.

You are my only son.

You will always be my baby.

But some days I really need you to act your age.

At almost 4 1/2 you are perfectly capable of getting yourself dressed. Wiping, flushing, and washing your hands. You brush your own teeth, feed the dog, throw your trash away. Navigate the dark hallways, pick up toys, put your dishes in the sink, rummage through the snack cupboard. Sleep through the night.

But lately you want me to do these things with you or for you.

I get it. I’m a big sister, so I understand that it’s hard being the big brother sometimes. Watching us coo and laugh and take pictures of her first steps, her stuffing her face, clapping. Changing her diaper, rocking her to sleep. Giving her so much attention.

And although you are 4 1/2, it’s beyond your capability to understand that we did all this for you too…we captured and celebrated all your firsts, just like we are capturing and celebrating hers.

So please, help mommy out. I’m tired, I’m stressed, I am always doing a hundred things at once and can’t drop them all to help you wash your hands, when the day before you did that by yourself and more.

I promise to spend more time with just you. I promise I’ll help you find your favorite toy, shoe, race car. I promise I’ll read you that second story and snuggle you at night when you wake up scared.

You are my first born.

You are my only son.

You will always be my baby.

But some days I really need you to act your age.

Aren't they peaceful when they sleep?

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“Hair” apparent

Fussypants was born with dark hair, which then lightened up to a soft brown and got long enough to spike, but that ‘do quickly and oh so cutely turned platinum blond and curly. He was our little towhead and we kept it long for a while because it was adorable and all my friends told me that when they cut their babies curls, they never grew back. But then the soft curls started to grow into hair just like his daddy’s, thick and unruly. Bath time started to be a pain because he never wanted to wash his hair. And he also disliked using his “monkey sauce” (so named for the gorilla on the bottle) to spike it so it ended up in his face more often than not. So we cut it short like his dad’s, and he wore it spiked for a bit in a faux hawk. But that was also short lived because he didn’t like using his monkey sauce, and ended up with hair in his face again.

The other night at dinner I said, “it’s time again to get your hair cut” and he surprised us by asking ”can I have a buzz cut”? I looked at my hubby, he looked at me and we shrugged and said “why not”.

I’ve dyed my hair brown, my husband sported a mohawk as a joke but neither of those events garnered as much interest, commentary and shocking response as my 4 year old with a buzz cut. He was the talk of his school! Parents I don’t even really know, knew my son had a new ‘do. Seriously, who knew a buzz cut would generate so much buzz? 

C.R.A.Z.Y

The many hairstyles of Captain Fussypants

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Little Miss and the bookcase

Little Miss is mobile, not yet walking on her own, but crawling like she’s got wheels and an engine. She peeks over her shoulder, giggles when she sees you’re watching and tears off to wreak havoc and destruction. This is the everything off the shelf, everything out of the containers, everything off the plate and onto the floor, everything strewn everywhere phase.

And she’s found my bookcases. You know, the ones I had to buy and have hubby put up in the living room when I turned my library sanctuary into a nursery for Little Miss so I had a place for all my books and cds. The bookcases I debated buying doors for, but decided not to spend the extra money because Fussypants was way past the pull crap off the shelves phase and I actually forgot that kids do that.

As you can see, mess-making is serious business for Little Miss.

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Little Miss First Birthday Pics!

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Little Miss – First Year Pictures

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