Archive for September, 2007

Nothing doing

This weekend has been fairly uneventful.  I did some shopping for fall clothes for my odd-shaped little girl.  She fits solidly in a size 2 top, but on bottom 12-18 months fits just right.  She was blessed with the stumpy legs passed on from my paternal grandfather, to my dad, then to me. 

Then we went for ice cream yesterday afternoon.  She was all excited to go, shouting ‘Ice Keeeem!  Ice Keeeem!’ before we left, but when we got there I literally had to tackle her, put her in a choke hold and force feed her even just one spoonful.  And this was in the restaurant.  Boy, am I ever an embarrasing mommy.  Just joshing.  I didn’t force her, but I was very confused over how any oxygen breathing human being could even hesitate when offered God’s sweet nectar ice cream.  Very, very weird.  Maybe she isn’t related to me.  She must have been switched at birth with some other dwarf-legged baby.

For dinner last night?  Ketchup.  Served on a bed of stew, for display purposes only.

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She eventually ate the stew when she accidentally discovered that it was edible and not just a fancy plate used to present the ketchup on.

Today’s second breakfast was her favourite.  PANCAKES!!!  She can pound those back like nobody’s business.  And the second best part of pancakes besides the fact that they’re pancakes?  The syrup.  It’s like a meal on it’s own.  So delicious, or ‘lishus’ as Eirinn describes it. 

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Must…get…every…last…drop.  Sooooo goooood.

Right now Eirinn is at Bubba’s house so we can clean (me) and cook (Anonymous Husband) because tonight we’re having Anonymous Husband’s Anonymous Family over for Anonymous dinner.

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Friday Five – Why I’m A-Scared

Every day Eirinn surprises me with how much she knows and how quickly, easily and eagerly she learns.  She absorbs everything, even that which I’d prefer she did not.  Like, for example, someone made it seem as though, ahem, tooting was funny which she picked up on and now thinks it’s knee-slappingly hilarious to pass gas.  It’s pretty scary for mommy, though, when she’s in the bath tub because she calls toots “poop”, and when you say “poop” in a bubble bath mom-panic is sure to ensue.

What was I talking about?  Oh, yes.  Her clear and evident brilliance.  In honour of her ingenuity, this week’s Friday Five is “Top Five Reasons Why Eirinn Is A Bloody Genius” or “How She’s Smarter Than Me And Why I Fear The Teenage Years.”

1.  She knows the alphabet song.  Not the whole alphabet, but the song and several of the letters in the right spot.  The song as sung by Eirinn goes something like this:  “Ay eee see DEE eee ash ee AYCH eye ay em en o PEE ooo awr hess eee ooo bee DABULOO ess ah shee.”  She misses some of the letters sometimes, but she’s really very good.  But she’s also getting tired of this trick and will only sing the song in the car.

2.  She is a professional manipulator already.  A week or so ago we were driving and she wanted ‘ooot, ooot’ of her car seat, which, of course, was not possible as we were in motion.  I explained this to her and she seemed satisfied with the answer.  She was quiet for a few minutes, and you could almost hear the gears turning in her little head.  “Mommy?” (this was where I should have known something was up – she only ever calls me Mom) “Hug?”  Awww…little jerk.  Of course, I would have to let her out of her seat in order to give her a hug.  She didn’t bank on me being able to resist a hug, although it was nearly impossible.

3.  She can say several multiple syllabic words and she uses them correctly.  A small sampling: delicious, crocodile, Alicia (Diego’s sister, for the un-enlightened), Cinderella, elephant (although she pronounces this one “alumpalump”, it’s too cute an attempt not to count).  There are some adults who can’t pronounce words that long.  Most of them drool, but I’ve met more than a few.

4.   She can dribble a soccer ball.  Not just hoof it three feet to the left.  She uses both feet, while running, bobbing and weaving.  And she only sometimes picks up the ball.  I gently remind her that “Excuse, me?  That’s a HAND BALL you cheater!” and she totally just puts it back down and we continue our friendly.

5.  Somehow (I honestly don’t know how) she convinced me, in broken English, to let her watch Diego again.  And somehow (seriously, does anyone know how it happened?) I threw Dora into the deal.  And not just one a day.  However many she wants.  Which seems to be no less than two of each.  Man, she’s good.

*ps – I know this post was technically published on Thursday.  I pressed the button prematurely.  Eirinn wouldn’t have done that.  That’s why she’s a certifiable genius and I’m only mildly intelligent.  I hope she never needs help with math homework.

The power of Christ compelled her

This is probably going to be short, with poor grammer, incorrect spelling, run-on sentences, and improper use of punctuation.  Plus it probably won’t make much sense.  But I’m too tired to care.  Or to fix it.

We only got 4 hours and 15 minutes sleep at our house last night.  Well, ‘we’ as in Anonymous Husband and I; Eirinn slept like a log from 7:30 until 11.  That’s when all heck broke loose for three hours straight.  THREE HOURS.  And we both work today.  There was crying and sobbing and wailing and coughing and gagging from the combination.  And Eirinn was awake, too ba dum bum.  I’m sorry, that was cheese brought on by sheer exhaustion.

It might have been teething.  It might have been gas.  It might have been a pure, unadulterated evil possession requiring an exorcism.  I don’t know.  Whatever it was, Baby Gravol did the trick.  Well, it did the trick until 6:15 am when she was finally able to exorcise her demons (read: she pooped).  She could have at least slept in after a night like that.

I’ve instructed my coworkers to give me a swift kick to the shins if I start to get the head-nods.

Simply in her nature

At the local second hand store yesterday with my mom, Eirinn perused the shoe department and spotted *cue trumpets* a pair of Dora shoes in her size.  Of course she had to have them, so she took them off the shelf herself (how she knew they were her size, I don’t know…) and carried them around the store, to the front counter.  She plopped them on the counter and turned to my mom.

“Bugba.  Money,” and held out her hand.

My mom handed her the money, which she placed on the counter for the cashier.  The cashier put the shoes in a bag and handed it to her.  She hooked the bag onto her arm like a little purse and led my mom out of the store.

All of this without any prompting.  It just came naturally.  Like proper shopping etiquette and protocol is in her blood.  I think there is one ‘Bugba’ and one ‘Bubba’ who will be very proud.

Party girl

We went to Eirinn’s third cousin Seamus’s first birthday party on Saturday.  Can you tell the family is Irish?  I’m surprised they aren’t taking jigging lessons yet.  There’s probably no time for those, what with Football Hooligan skills training, Green Beer Chugging classes, and How To Be Magically Delicious 101.  Maybe when soccer, grotesquely under-aged drinking, and leprechaun seasons are over.

Anyway, due to the nature of Anonymous Husband’s anonymous-ness, I can’t say too much about the party or the goings on, but I will post a couple of pictures.  One of Miss Thang being as cute as possible with her special little party dress (which, by the way, was a hugely unthought out idea given her tomboyish tendencies) trying to figure out how to work a noise maker and one of her and I blowing bubbles.

p.s. I am not ashamed to say that I Photoshopped the crap out of myself.  And, yes, this is as good as it gets, even with the aid of digital photo enhancing (and erasing).  What I actually look like I will leave to your imagination.

Help no longer needed (for now)

I want to thank everyone who left comments on Help Wanted.  They were so helpful, you have no idea. 

After reading all of your suggestions and talking to other parents (including my own), I’ve come up with a pretty good plan that I think I’m happy with.  And, surprisingly, it doesn’t involve taking the soother away.  For now. 

I’m definitely going let her keep using the soother at nap and bedtime, as well as during the day when she really, really, needs it.  But, like I was told a few times, she is still so little and really, what harm does it do?  When she’s old enough to understand better, which, at the rate she learns, might be sooner than I think, we are going to do one of the ceremonies that you’ve suggested.  Haven’t decided which one.

This is an un-plan that I can live with.  Thanks!

Baby #2 will be forever scarred

Can you believe this?  Perhaps with that attitude she should have both taken away.