O, No you didn't!

I didn't think I would have to post this for at least another decade. But there you have it. Those of you who have followed this love story from the beginning will probably be happy- at least happier than J. But my sweet Little One, not so long ago, at a playdate went walking hand-in-hand with Her long-time sweetie, O. And then, She had Her first kiss.
Oh, yes She did.
And did She love it. Just look at these two.
Look at Her smitten little face staring at O. And look at the boy's shirt, will you. Totally untrue. His mother informed me that while this was Little One's first smooch, it was certainly not O's, the gallivant!

Oh well, what's a mother to do. He is terribly cute. And Little One doesn't seem to mind. She stole another at the door when He left.
I guess the only thing left to do is to shamelessly encourage it so I can get a picture next time. O's mom and I might want to use it at the wedding we're planning.










In the meantime.....


*The video is actually from a later, repeat (and repeat, and repeat...) offense.

By The Way...

I have something to tell you! About my Little One. (And She is, at 22 months and barely 20 lb, quite little.) As much as She grows up, every day I'm only more convinced that She will always, always, no matter how old or big or embarrassed by it She gets, always be my sweet little Little One. But, see.
The fact is that, technically, as much as She is my Little One and as much as She is little, She will only be the baby until next March.

Found This Morning

Personally, I think he was framed.

Karma Sent a Message To Me

Karma said to me: "C. Here's the thing. Pay attention to your kid, C. PAY ATTENTION to Her! I don't care if you are tired. I don't care if you are so tired that breathing is an annoyance. I don't care if you are so tired that you would wonder if you had mono except that would be too much effort. You are a mom, pay attention to your kid."
"Because", Karma told me, "Because if you don't, then here's what I'll do. If you don't, You will look up to shrieks of laughter to find that a box of oatmeal baby-flakes has been strewn in a flurry about the entire top floor of your house, little flakes fluttering from the landing into the kitchen. You will find a child looking like Ben Franklin with oat-flake powdered hair. And then- wait, there's more!- then your dogs will roll in it. Yes they will! And when you put them outside to try and clean the mess before bathing them, they will dig up the lawn and roll in that too! Don't ignore them either.
And please. If you dare to put your child on hold again because you want 5 minutes to clear the snow, then look here. When you are vacuuming up in the corner by the bed, a pink sock will fly across the floor and into the hose, and it will take 15 minutes to get it out. And as soon as you do, you will suck up a pair of tweezers which will have appeared out of the ether so that you can spend 40 minutes getting them out!
Not that you should. NOoooooo! 40 minutes of still ignoring the child will have to bring me to this. To Her sneaking all ninja-stealth style into the bathroom while you fume at the tweezers, and standing waaay up on Her tiptoes, and stealing the tube of toothpaste. Oh yes I will. And She will eat it. Know what's in there? No you don't! And that's what you get. Because if you have to watch Her closely to make sure She keeps breathing properly, well. I bet you're paying attention now. I bet you are paying Her all your attention now! That should teach you!
But just for good measure, when you do your big shopping trip to the commissary, and hours later go to pay for your two shopping carts full of stuff, your ID will have expired. And you will get randomly chosen to show it to the clerk! And if you didn't learn after all and neglected the poor thing again while discussing the ID issue with the manager, I'm pretty sure She's going to pee. Right there, on the floor. She was saying "potty" for 5 minutes, after all. Some people never learn. Guess I'll have to throw in keeping your husband late at work."

Right, Karma. Loud and Clear. Little One. Attention. All the time. Number One. Got it.

Drama Queen

The post-graduation honeymoon is over, Peanuts, and J is back at the hospital full-force doing a rotation in the ER. He has been working nights recently. After Little One gets tucked in, it seems a little empty around here, now that we've gotten so used to having him home by dinner.
But I figure, if I can't fight it, I'll roll with it! Watermelon and popcorn for dinner! And since he's gone anyways, might as well make it complete, and watch some 1950's sappy movies to suck any lingering testosterone out of the house. Partly I just adore the clothes and the fancy set hair, but I do love a good swoon, Peanuts. It's all nearly as good as ice cream.
But last night I was SO tired I shut my laptop before my grainy netflix film was even over. This morning, while Little One was reading Her books, I opened it to check my email, and "Love is a Many Splendored Thing" popped up where it had left off. The violins swelled. The chorus reverberated with soprano. Jennifer Jones forlornly dragged her gorgeous high-heels across a windswept hilltop. Little One was entranced. She doesn't watch TV, we don't even have TV, so it might have been the magical moving pictures. But I think it was the scene. She identified with it. "That is how I feel when Mommy won't let me have a cracker!" She probably thought.
She jumped up from Her seat and climbed into my lap. She gasped. She stared. She pointed and asked, "Mommy? What?"
"Well, She's climbing the hill to the tree, see the tree?" She murmured with awe, "tree-ee". The actress collapsed on the ground and began sobbing. Little One gasped. "Oh! Mommy!" "Uh, yes. She's crying. See? She's feeling a little sad today, because she misses her friend. Sometimes we cry when we feel sad."
Little One wrapped Her arms around Her chest like the leading lady and said reverently, "Oooooh. Saa-aad." The credits began to roll, so I explained that the lady would feel better soon, closed the laptop, and tried to interest Little One in a puzzle. But it was no use. She spent the rest of the morning dragging Her feet across the floor slowly, draping Herself over various pieces of furniture, and groaning with the pain of a broken heart. "Oh no. Oooooohhhh Nononooooooooo!" Bringing Her hand to Her cheek. "Oh no. Ahhhhh! Sa-aaaad. Saa-aaad!" She "Oh, no-ed", "Oh, sad-ed", gasped, sighed, and fake cried Herself through the rest of the morning until nap. It appears I went to far. The estrogen levels in this place have reached dangerous proportions. I hope J gets a new shift soon. Otherwise, I half-expect Little One to be reciting Scarlett O'Hara by lunch time.

Picnic With Miss M

When you are a nanny. You love a child with your whole heart, even though it isn't yours. Even though, you can't keep them. Even though at some point, you're not there anymore. This part can be rough. But it helps if that child has truly awesome parents who let you visit and call and ask invasive questions about bedtimes and time-outs and next time you can see their kid.
I count myself pretty terribly lucky that Miss M has two such fantastic parents, and that I get to see in person how she is turning out to be so incredibly great.
Getting to see Little One hanging out with a little girl She could learn a lot of good things from, and getting to hang out with some parents that I always learn a lot from? Icing on the cake. Getting to eat Miss M's Papa's delicious cooking at a picnic? Sheesh. That's like icing on top of icing! I tell you. It doesn't get a whole lot sweeter than that.

Up Top!

A little update on our 4th of July fun.
We had a picnic and then went swimming with some of our favorite people. I decided not to keep Little One up so far past bedtime for the lights, but She did get some party favors from the pool we could pretend were pyrotechnics.
Little One loved Her "fiver-works". And She instinctively knew what do do with them! Obviously, it's all in the name. You swing them around, and yell "fiver-works!" Then you run to your mommy, hop up and down, and slap her hand a bunch of times. After all, this isn't some paltry sports event. This is a holiday. It takes a lot of high-fives to do fiver-works right. Just make sure you yell "fiver! fiver!" with every slap, and then stand back and say "Oooh. Ahhh."

Graduation

Did I mention that J graduated? I think I did. It was brief. A rather less-than-honorable mention, I would say. I've thought about what there is to tell about this accomplishment. But since it's hard to know which sleepless night to start with, instead I will post a version of the speech I very uncomfortably and awkwardly gave at his party. It's more fun this way, because no one can see me getting all smudgy around the eyeliner.

I always like to tell J that he is "the best". Aww! He hates this. J has an over-active case of modesty. I had to make his celebration a surprise party, because I knew that J would never have willingly let me do it; he hates to be the center of attention, hates to make a big deal over anything. While he was in school, I would randomly find medals of award in his pockets while doing laundry, or letters in the recycling pile from teachers oozing praise for him. I found out from his friend's wife that he was awarded best med student in his specialty, because he just doesn't mention those things.
But the truth is that what J has accomplished actually is a big deal. One of the doctors J worked for last spring gave him a dinner at the end of his rotation, at which he said he had come to realize over the course of that time that J was, I quote, "not only a genius, but a truly good guy". Which is exactly true.
Graduating medical school, especially in the military, is a big accomplishment. But for J, it is extra impressive to me because he not only got it done with flying colors, but he did it all without it ever even being his top priority. Because we were. His family has always been first. No matter how hard he worked and how much he had left to do on how little sleep, J always made time to play fetch with the dogs, to read and play with and rock and feed his daughter, and to be there for me. To fix the washing machine and make breakfast on Sundays.
J deserves celebrating because he is the best. Not only the best medical student- about to be the best doctor- and the best Lt. there is, but by far the best husband, the best dad, the best person there can be. So please. Lets all embarrass him ruthlessly by telling him how proud we are. I will go first! J: No, seriously. You are the best.

There Goes My Nomination

On a day when it was way too hot for sane people to be out of doors, I had the brilliant idea to take Little One to a carnival. In the full, unmitigated sunshine. This should have been Her first clue that maybe I wasn't quite full of the good-mommy mojo that day. She should have been a little wary.
But instead She bounced around the jumping castles, all full of youthful innocence and trust. Poor sap. Then, when She was getting a bit pink from the heat, I took Her into the shade.
For a pony ride! What little girl doesn't love a pony ride?! She was a little unsure about the funky helmet. She had never touched an actual horse before. But, again, blindly investing all Her faith into Her mother, She went with it. The withered guy with the cane, behind the pony-table said: "well...ok, but you have to hold onto Her, the whole time." I sort of brushed him off. "Of course!" I said. Of course. So we started off, Little One wondering what the heck was going on, and me cooing beside Her. But the saddlebag was getting in my way, so I asked the pony-walker if I could switch sides. And I did. And just as I had grabbed Little One and was about to turn and walk, the pony walker decided I was ready. She walked. The pony, walked. It stepped on my foot. Do you know that silver shiny sandals are really cute but not the best choice for agriculturally-based activities? Huh. It broke my toe. In that instant, I let go of Little One. Because apparently, when the chips are down, I choose my pinky toe over my first-born and only child. Good to know! I let go, and in that same instant, Little One sat right up, like, "hey, ma, where'd you go?" And then. She fell. Off. The. Pony. The poor thing cried. Her father swooped in to assess the damage, I was on the ground. With my pinky-stinking-toe. The withered man hobbled up all mad, people gasped. The pony stood there, thinking, "I hate my day job". We apologetically handed back the helmet and limped away. Little One has a small bruise from the helmet, and She very well may have a pathological fear of horses for the rest of Her life, but She is otherwise ok. My toe is fat and purple and ugly, thanks for asking, because sometimes people get what they deserve. Which, in this case, is most likely NOT going to be a commemorative plaque for "Mother of the Year".

At least he can admit it.

Heard tonight, at BATHTIME:

C: What's going on in here?!

Little One: (Big chicken-y grin) "Chik!"

J: "...She said She was hungry again..."

C: Mmm, mmm. That girl plays you like a fiddle.

J: Yeah, well. You and She both.

Mens

Heliel: male, 9 years old, from down the street. Slicing shallots for dinner:
"So C? Where did you say you guys are going on Friday?"

C: Little One and I are going to New Mexico.

Heliel: What about J? He's not going too?

C: No, he can't come with us.

Heliel: "How come?"

C: "He has to work all weekend."

Heliel: "Sssoooo...you're going all by yourself and Little One?"

C: "Yup".

Heliel: "Say what?!" (rolls his eyes, shakes his head) "Pft. Mens."

The Coolest on a Hot Day

I just want to give a little shout-out.

To J.

To J who was the only dad


The only grown-up period

To actually get into the fountain

In all his clothes

And get soaked

And have fun

And play

Play with his baby

Holla J.

I'll Take S'more Anytime

Let me ask you. What is not to love about a big, roiling pot full of these things, all stirred up together:
Heat
Humidity
Fire
A small crowd of people piled on top of each other
A couple hairy animals
Lots and lots of dirt
Some bugs
Gooey stuff

Tell me that does not spell fun! It does! We might not know everything, Peanuts. Like why certain families with shrill-voiced women choose to site next to us out of an empty forest to hammer metal tent stakes and scream at each other in at 1 gosh-darn 30 in the morning, BUT- we do know this. F. U. N.
And so. On a whim we threw some baby and dogs and gear into the car and set up camp. You may not know or believe this. But I love, LOVE to camp. I spent maybe 79% of my childhood (the parts I remember) camping, and a tiny part of me- you know, that quarter-sized patch that doesn't get sucked on by a mosquito- sort of thinks that camping is closer to the way we were all meant to live. Under the stars, singing kumbaya with nature. Unless of course it's cold. In the winter, that tiny part gets gagged and bound with a scarf and a hoodie.
But since it is thickly hot out here, we introduced Little One to the great outdoors. She loved it!
She helped set up camp

And make a fire

She acquainted Herself with the Time-Out Tree

She gulped Her beans and chilis right down

She hiked through the woods, smacked things with sticks, threw some for the dogs, examined leaves and bugs, alerted us to the presence of all rocks larger than a pea, and got totally and thoroughly filthy

Yep. Other than the part where She puked all over the down sleeping bags, She loved it!

We were having so much fun, that we even decided to go totally crazy and let Her walk a little further onto the wild side, and try a piece of a marshmallow. This was rather momentous. Because other than the horrible time She snagged a fingerfull of ice cream, this was Her first ever taste of refined sugar. We showed Her how to put it on a stick and roast it in the fire, all of which She was very enthusiastic about. And then She tasted it! And this is the face of Little One meeting sugar for the first time:

She HATED it. Please mama, She begged. Can't I just eat some more beans?

Poor thing. Someone had to take it off Her hands. And I have to say, our big pot of staying up way past bedtime, waking up and freaking out about the deer tromping around our heads at 3 am, cursing the neighbors at 1 am, and coming home sleepy with 3 loads of smoke-steeped clothing was, altogether, almost too sweet to stand.

On July 4

Life

Liberty

Happiness