La Llorona- Mini Version.

Speaking of our trip to Nana. Do you know what is really, really awesome timing?!
A toddler managing to spike a 104 degree fever in the middle of the night before you get on a plane across the country! That's what!
What is it with Little One and traveling? Doesn't She know that our insurance forces us into the ER for every sniffle if we're not at our home base? I tell you.
So, since the fever was still with us after 2 airplanes and 8 hours, and as it was now accompanied by a lot of screaming, we skipped the first night of Nana's parties and had our own party in the Santa Fe hospital's special pediatric waiting room.
Complete with child-friendly diversions! Such as: The gang member and his half-naked girlfriend with the tattooed neck. The reeking bag lady that Little One wanted to "tuck in" because she was "sleeping". And, best of all, the large woman in a belly shirt, hotpants, knee-socks and sneakers, with the traditional espanola lipliner, shaved brows, and mile high bangs, SCREAMING into her cell phone for 20 minutes; "why you like that?! How you gonna leave me here?! You know I got no ride and why you gonna be mean on me?!" while spewing standard swear words and allusions to other women, drugs, and violent threats. Ah, Santa Fe. Feels like home again.
Little One wasn't too concerned about all this. She was mostly consumed by complete disgust in a big cheese doodle on the floor that She was convinced was an orange poo. An orange poo on the floor. Why is there orange poo on the floor?! MELTDOWN.
She might have felt better if the triage nurse had been able to give Her some medicine for the fever. But since they carry only one flavor of motrin, and She happened to be allergic to it, we got to experience 4 hours of the above delights at 103.6 degrees!
We finally got a bed in the ER and were told by the hippie with the red fro-hair, that "man, ya know youre gonna be here like all night man. Its crazy busy man, friday night!" Luckily my mom was in town with us and went out for safe motrin and food, so we were all in a better mood by then. We entertained ourselves with stickers. And then, finally, we saw the doctor.
Now, I expected the long wait, but what I was really dreading were the tests. We have had a couple of nightmare experiences with taking Little One to the ER while traveling. But do you know that there is a huge benefit to potty training that I hadn't even thought of? Pee in a cup! Pee in a cup! YAY NO CATHETER pee in a cup! It was the least traumatic ER visit we've ever had. (In some ways.)
We went to our hotel with meds for an ear infection and a good healthy dose of nostalgia for the proud location of my birth. Little One draped Her entire burning-hot baby body on top of me, circled Her sweaty arms around my neck, and slept all night.
A few days later a tell-tale full-body rash informed me that roseola was the culprit all along, but for the remainder of the weekend, Little One continued to be pretty out of sorts. She spent a lot of time pouting and clinging to me like a little monkey. She loved the music at Nana's party, but hated all the people. NO ONE was to touch, talk to, or look at Her besides Mommy. With one exception:

Tia Ree. My babiest sister was a haven for Little One. She approached calmly, waited patiently, and otherwise just seemed to "get" Little One. She was an incredible help to me, wiping down tables and high chairs for cheese remnants before I even got there, handing Little One what She wanted before She knew She wanted it, and playing or cuddling according to Little One's mood better than I could have myself. It was a relief for me, and my back, to have those two so close. And it was really, really sweet to see. As I watched the two of them from across the room, seeing the word "Babysitter" flash in neon lights around Ree's adorable little head, I added another reason to the long list of why I wish I lived closer to this sister who is growing up awfully fast.
Lets face it. It was a lovely few days of parties, it was fantastic to see so many family members- the technically related as well as those appropriated into the clan over years- and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. But it was exhausting tending to a miserable kiddo and there were a lot of tears shed as the festivities wrapped up and the goodbyes came around on Sunday.
Of course, our plane home wasn't until Tuesday. Which left us a whole day to treat our wounds with the patented Santa Fe elixir of green chilis, oozey cheese, and more green chilis. Maybe they should keep some of that in the fancy hospital.

Nana at Ninety

Not too long ago, ok ok a month ago, Little One and I hit our 37th airplane together to head down to New Mexico for a very special occasion. A birthday party! But not just any birthday party. My nana's 90th.
My Nana, she is something. She was born about a pound and a half. Her grandmother swore she saved nana's life by feeding her drops of whiskey and keeping her in the warmer compartment of the woodburning oven. She slept her first few months in a shoebox.
And that beginning, well. It really tells it all. Spurred on probably from that early cradle, Nana always has had an incredible obsession with shoes, and used her size 5 feet to model them so she could keep the wares.
The smoke from her makeshift incubator likely gave her a taste for the stuff (she's smoked since she was 10), and also taught her how to thrive under fire. And I think it's safe to say that there's still some whiskey left in her, after all this time.
By which I mean that- as you can tell from her coming into the world with slim chances and making it to 90- she's always had a good dose of fight in her, diminutive as she may be.
From that first day nana's mother was told not to bother with her, nana has never given a darn what anyone else thinks or expects her to do. She does things her own way.
Luckily for us, that Way typically involved rampant spoiling where grandchildren were involved.
I cannot even begin to think of Nana and all the memories from summers and Easters spent at her ranch in Texas. The fun levels and glycemic index are at the top of the charts. This is a lady that deserves a big fat party! So she got one. It was a three day long affair in New Mexico, where she now lives (ahem....reigns), appropriately accompanied by mariachis and doused in hot enchilada sauce. It was awesome! And since I have lots more to say about nana, but don't know where to start or whether anyone is still reading at this point, here is my contribution to the nana speeches given at the party:


10 of the top 90 reasons Nana rocks:

1) She will give you candy when your mom isn't looking.

2) She keeps me trendy with her shoe hand-me-downs.

3) She knows how to properly eat mashed potatoes (family secret).

4) She can and will kick butt and swear in Spanish if you are getting harassed by random men in Mexico.

5) She can and will kick butt and swear in Spanish if you are getting harassed by anyone, anywhere. Or if you jump on her bed.

6) She understands the value of important things in life like shoes, chocolate, and strong coffee.

7) Enchiladas.

8) She can and will make you laugh hard enough to pee in your pants.

9) At her 90th birthday, she will be the prettiest one in the room.

10) And she will probably party the hardest.

Here's Hoping She's Right

YosLadi, 7, on the playground:

"Are you gonna get another baby soon?"

C: "Actually yes, in the spring."

YL: "Oooh, wow. I bet it's gonna be a girl!"

C: "Yeah?"

YL: "Yeah! OR! OR a boy!"


What's all this fuss about the public school system? They're obviously teaching probability in the first grade. OR! OR genetics!

It Talks!

Last night, while snuggling in the rocking chair just before bed, my stomach growled, pretty loudly. Little One sat up, all excited and looked at me with big, wide eyes. She put Her hands on my tummy. And She said,

"Mamma! Mamma! BABY! Rrrrraaawwwwr!!!"

I hope She's not disappointed when we don't bring home a lion cub from the hospital.

Excercise in Humility. (Or Humiliation.)

Dear Very Large, Very Sweaty Man who got on the treadmill next to me:
I'm so sorry.
I am so very sorry.
It's not you! It's me.
It's me, and my pregnant, hypersensitive nostrils.
It's me, and my baarrrrely contained stomach contents, even with maximum effort.
And, because you maybe skipped the deodorant today, well, it was kinda you, too. In a literal way.
But still, it was unintentional, and totally uncalled for that my eyes welled up and I gripped the handlebars and stumbled a little and quite audibly, quite noticeably retched in front of a packed gym.
If it makes you feel any better, which it most likely does not at all, any mortification felt is, I can assure you, mutual.

So Cute He Wanted to Keep Her

Would you like another little glimpse into the perfection that is my world? You would! I knew it!
Last week, just before the epic puking/ER funness, some very dear friends came over to cook for me. In an attempt to create for me something that would feed the gremlin fetus and not confine me to leaning over the toilet for an hour. Isn't that thoughtful? Isn't that sweet?! I wanted to repay them, but I didn't know how. Fortunately, there is always my trusty and faithful man's best friend to help me get creative in a pinch.
I have two dogs, of course. One is a bit high strung, and was already ejected into the backyard. The other, though, is pretty mellow, very friendly. He's the one that we always assume is innocent when there is evidence of doggy wrongdoings when we get home from someplace. So he was allowed to stay and entertain the small people.
My friend's baby delighted herself crawling around after him, and Little One delighted Herself running after the baby. So, since everyone was so happy and occupied, we left the 12 year old in charge and started cooking. And then, there was a shriek.
The sound of paws click-clicking across the floor.
And the 12 year old came in, half horrified, half hilarious, holding the tiny baby out in front of her. Because her hands were thus employed and she speaks sign language, we were all confused. Until we walked out and saw a lovely, golden yellow pool, by the steps, cascading into a waterfall to the basement. And a matching river, elegantly undulating aaaaalllll the way down the carpet, through the living room, back again, into the foyer, were my dog stood looking at me, waiting for praise.
Apparently, according to 12 year old, the trail is because he took off running, still peeing, when 12 year old scared him off from his prime objective, which was to lift his leg and pee on my friend's baby. ON THE BABY.
Just another day in the serene perfection of my happy home. Thanks for the 4 hours you spent cooking me three different dishes of delicious food, friends! And, oh, your welcome for the baby-marking ceremony and the little splashy tie-dye deco on her onesie. Don't say I never gave you anything.

On Vacation

I have some stories and pictures coming up...someday. But right now, all I want to do is sit. In my bed. In my PJ's. And today, that's about all I'm doing. My mom, thank the heavens!, is here and took Little One to the pool. So that She will have fun and be wild and I can sit. In my PJ's. With only moderate guilt.
This kid, in my belly, it wants to be noticed. It doesn't want to just kick back in there and hang out quietly, it wants to rule the world. Or at least, my world. And it's a very good thing that I love it so much, already, because otherwise I might be slightly annoyed at how good a job it is doing of monopolizing my body and energy and everything else.
I remember one time, in Africa, I ate a pastry from a little shop. And I had the worst case of food poisoning, ever. EVER. I was so sick, that I didn't even really care that I was pretty sure I was about to kick it at any moment. I was just like, "well, that's it for me. I guess I die of pastry". Because at least then the misery would end. Yeah, hehe, I remember those days!
I remember them because this pregnancy is in so many ways similar to that lovely little experience. Last week I even got to spend the night in the hospital getting fluids and anti-nausea medication by IV. Aw, me and baby number 2, making memories already!
One day, maybe I will reminisce with the kid about it's time in utero, and I'll tell it that it reminded my of my trip overseas, and that I got to spend a lot of time laying around, as still as possible, in my PJs, neglecting all my responsibilities. Like being on vacation! And then I will say, "And now you owe me for life. Go clean your room".

Tiny Bubbles

On J's last real day off for, oh, the next 3.2 eons or so, we took Little One down to the Patuxant river base. Doesn't that sound exciting?! I know. But it was!
The base has several pools and lots of kids to swipe floaty toys from when they're too busy crying that the water is scary.










And when too many of them started swiping stuff back, we just wandered down to the Chesapeake beach to play in the waves and sand.
Then we went back to try out the de-sanding properties of the other pool, before moving on to the playgrounds, and then the beachfront for a yummy lunch where there were crayons!


At this charming little venue, Little One acquired a skill, with no coaching at all!- that took Her another step further from toddlerhood and into childhood. She learned to blow bubbles in Her drink with the straw.


Probably we should not have allowed that. Probably, we at least should not have giggled to each other. Or cheered Her on. We will likely rue that reaction when She's like 7 in a fancy restaurant and we're crying, "for the love of pete will you stop turning your shirly temple into spewing volcano of doom all over the white linen tablecloth?!?" Buuuttt...until then. It was pretty darned cute. We wandered around a bit and picked up some fruits and veggies at the best roadside stand, that made all the store-bought produce in our kitchen blush self-consciously and try to cover their stickers. As far as Little One is concerned, this was a day of total awesomeness. And, (especially since J turned those veggies into a yummy dinner while I sat on the couch and looked at the funnies with Little One) it was.

Birthday Wish

Birthday parties are tricky.
There is cake. Frosting. Pinatas full of chocolate. Pizza. And, good lord save us, ice cream.
A death trap with streamers. And it's getting a little trickier, as we go, to see Little One watch everyone around Her, look down at Her plate of grapes, and get Her "now wait just a minute" face on. Or to come up with a really plausible M.O. for go-play-with-your-friends-but-don't-get-too-near them. But birthday parties are fun! And, they are about celebrating a life. They matter. So J and I loaded up on wet-wipes dove into a season of birthday parties determined to give it a shot.




We learned one important thing at Her cousins party:





If there are jumping castles, who gives a grape about cake and ice cream?
We learned another thing, at a party for a friend turning 7: give a 7-year-old the power of being In Charge of something, and not one living organism will get within one mile Little One if they are even thinking about one molecule of food.
And at a pinata busting at another fete, where the birthday-boy's mom pointed out the Little One-safe toys among the treats: people can be so thoughtful.

We've had a few scares in the last month or so. In conjunction with Her growing into a stage where it is a bit trickier to manage, Little One's allergy issues are too obviously getting worse. We don't know why. We hope it will pass. In the meantime, I'm sending out a little plea to our thoughtful friends.Please forgive us.
We might ask you to come to our place more often.
We might quarantine your snacks to the dining room.
We might obsessively and annoyingly hand you a wet-wipe.
We might embarrass you in public by sterilizing every high chair/hand rail/swingset we come across.
But please. Forgive us. And because so far things have turned out ok, and because I'd really like to see more of this face:
Please, especially if there are jumping castles, invite us to your party. You can even have our slice of cake.

A Few of Her Favorite Things

Little One's most favoritest things in the world are me and J, which we are rolling around in like puppies in the summertime grass, knowing it can't last forever and that it is just super good. But in case you ever come over, and want to win Her little heart, here are some more of Her favorite things:

1)The dogs. Oh how She adores them. She hugs them, kisses them, brings them Her toys saying "share?" and cracks Herself up putting things on their heads. She calls them each by name. "Sh-it!" She tells them, so they will drop to their haunches for a snuggle. "Good Goorl!"

2)Coloring. She will sit at Her little table and color with crayons for an hour at a time. Its fantastic. She proudly shows me that She knows what color She used. No matter how many crayons have been employed, the picture is always purple.

3)READING. Poor thing. The product of a double-nerd dose. Her parents are both lifetime users and She was born addicted. The first thing She wants to do when She wakes up from a nap is pee. But after that, She wants to go in Her room, pull a pile of books off the shelf and climb into the big "rock you" chair to leaf through each one, page by page. Sometimes She just looks, studies. Sometimes Her voice bounces excitedly down the hall as She "reads" each one aloud, telling Her own version of the story She sees. "Bird! Bird tweet tweet! Fly! Fly bird! Oh no! Crash.Tweet tweet!" We read together every morning before nap, every evening before bed; it's still never enough. Yesterday She wanted me to wrap Her in a blanket so She could sink into it in a corner of the living room. Then She delicately demanded, "Bups!" So I would bring Her a pile to pore over for the next half hour. She has favorites which She asks for by title, but She will turn down nothing. Recently at a kids concert, someone handed Her an advertisement pamphlet, and She gasped. "Bup! Mama, Bup! Thank Oo! Thank Oo bup!" She read it to me on the way home. J and I are happy about all this. We're thinking maybe we can bring in some cash in elementary school when kids hire Her to do their homework.

4) The Shoom. Oh, swing. How I love and hate you. Love, because of the immense bliss that you bring my sweet baby. Hate, because just how much time do we have to spend together? Sheesh! Little One can see the playground from our dining room. She is constantly pointing to the french door and demanding "shoom! Shooom! Shoo-ooom!" We swing after breakfast, and only the promise of reading can lure Her back in. And She has a truly uncanny ability to spidey-sense a playground in the vicinity when we are out. The first hint of a lawn and She's hollering "shoom!" from the back seat. Dang if She's not usually right, and there's a playground around the corner.

5)Singing. She makes up songs, She sings in the car, She sings in the playroom. She loves to sing to Her babies. She also likes to point at the radio and say "dance!" so we'll turn it on and She can shake it like a polaroid picture, singing along.

6) Watermelon. Raw onion. Banana. Brussels Sprouts. In that order.

7)O. Maybe it's because the love affair between these two has gone on so long. Maybe he's just really a stud. But of all Her little friends, O is the only one She asks for by name. And definitely the only one She cries for from the time-out corner, as if He's going to come riding up on a white rocking-horse to rescue Her.

8) Brushing Her teeth. A sure way to get Her to agree to bedtime, is to remind Her that She'll get to brush Her teeth first.

9) Glasses. Any kind, any size, so much the better if worn upside-down. J took the lenses out of an old pair so I'd stop worrying about Her ruining Her vision by wearing His all the time and bumping into stuff.

10) As always from day 1, and thankfully still holding out- cuddles!

Wuf Oo

One of the most exciting developments around here is Little One's use of the phrase "I love you". Or, more precisely, "Wuf-Ooo!" She'll repeat it back, She'll say it at bedtime because that's what we say. But for the last month or two, She's been using it all by Herself. She'll be singing in the car, making up words, belting out "Da-da! Da-dA! Daddyyyyyyyy Wuf Ooo! Wuf OooooooDadda!" She'll croon it to Her baby dolls. And a new favorite way of getting mommy to drop everything and get a cuddle is the patented:
"Momma!"
"Yes?"
"Momma!"
"...yes??" "
mommamommamommma! Mom-MEE!"
"WHAT Little One?"
(insert bashful smile and batting lashes) "Wuf-Ooo."
It kills me. She pretends to talk on the phone, babbling with the inflection of a beleaguered business executive, and I'll pick up randomly interjected actual words, "Doggy" "snack snack" "Car, GO" and, invariably at some point, "Wuf Oo". I'm glad that She understands it is a crucial element to dealing with other people, even if it must be conscripted into a rant.

Auto-manners

Yesterday, in the car:

Little One: "Mama! All done!"

C: "We're not quite done yet, Little One. We have to get some gas."

Little One: "Gas?!"

C: "Yes, for the car."

Little One: "Gas car??"

C: "yep."

Little One (thinks a moment): "Mama! Car! A-scuse me!"

Happy Crappy

I'm still here, Peanuts. Wading around knee-deep in a little tide-pool of nausea. Occasionally knocked off my feet by a giant, engulfing wave from outta nowhere.
Later, and throughout the day, Little One throws Her book over Her shoulder and races to the bathroom. She rests Her arms on the toilet seat, hangs Her head, and blows raspberries into the bowl.
"Ahem. Little One. What are you doing?"
"Mommy! Cough. Choked. Thhhbbbbrrtt!"
Ah well. At least it's a game now, and She no longer comes in mid-emesis trying to yank my head back. Admonishing me, "Mommy no! Head potty no!" Or on second thought this could be a step in the wrong direction...
In any case I feel, if it makes sense, more pregnant than I did this early last time. For example, with one very infamous exception, I didn't really have strong food cravings with Little One. But this time I'm going nuts with it. I'm even craving seafood! I don't even remember what seafood tastes like! So far I've held out on that one. But I have actually gone to the grocery store to get macaroni salad, which I don't even like, and was not at all surprised to have instantly rejected by my body. And it was worth it.
Last time I was pregnant, I was working full-time, which wasn't too bad, but the commute killed me. I've always thought it a cruel irony that no one gave up their seat on the metro for me in the first trimester when I really, really needed it, but they cleared out like I had a bomb in my belly once I was showing and felt fine. At least this time around I don't have to take my motion sickness for a ride twice a day!
I am busier, though, than I was when I was working, and that is compounded by the fact that holy-crap-what-were-we-thinking-having-one-parent-pregnant-and-the-other-in-RESIDENCY. J worked, for example, 75 hours last week. So we are both exhausted, and both have a headache, and would both rather rest peacefully on the couch while being eaten alive by a boa constrictor, than do the dishes.
Fortunately, this is mitigated by the fact that J is a superstar who, for example, comes home from his 75 hour work-week and immediately takes Little One to the Smithsonian so I can take a nap. Then comes home, washes the dogs, and brings me my favorite sure-to-stay-in-the-tummy dinner. I think I will have to hang on to that man. If I ever see him again.
And fortunately, Little One provides a wonderful distraction, and reminds me how very, very worth it the icky part can be. As I said to my family the other day, I've never been so happy to feel so crappy.

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."