what "big girls" do

In an effort to distinguish the appropriate roles and responsibilities of our two girls (mostly since the potty training days) we've talked about big girls vs. babies a lot. And Kiddo knows she wants and needs to be a big girl, because that is good and desirable. This may have backfired on us.

While on vacation she learned, then perfected, the art of a yelling tantrum. (All my pre-vacation posts mentioning her screaming were not such, they were more of a yell, or a high-pitched squawk; I knew this then. I really know it now.) Since we've returned, they've lessened, but certainly not disappeared. The subject of most of them is "what big girls do."

"Big girls wear underpants!" is screamed when we're trying to get her to put on a pull-up for the night.

"Big girls wear pull-ups!" is the cry when we try to move to underwear in the morning.

"Big girls don't wear socks!" "Big girls wear their sparkly shoes!" "Big girls don't go to bed!" or whatever is the opposite of what we've just suggested. She can't stay 2 forever I suppose.


In addition, since she is a big girl, but she's realizing that there are still things that she can't do, that only parents do, I have become "big mama."

thoughts unrelated to my children

My vacation spoiled me, and I forgot that I have to move the car twice a week. About 1 pm I yelled "Shoot!", herded Kiddo out the door at record speed, prayed Babs would be fine for three minutes in her swing and ran out to move the car. I was too late. The ticket was already there. I still moved my car for good measure (largely because there was a spot across the street). At least the street sweeper can do his job in peace.

My congressman sent out a mailer touting his good works. He bragged about all the money he's shepherded to our area because of his position on the ways and means committee. He told us 1) if he didn't send the pork to us, it would just go somewhere else. Okay, I accept the truth of that statement. 2) The more money we get from the federal government, the less money we have to contribute to get the work done, specifically in the form of property taxes. While it's true that more federal money for projects means less local taxes, but who does he think is paying for the federal government? Oh yeah, my children. I guess this is a good deal.

Why do I feel sheepish about changing pediatricians? I wish my old pediatrician didn't have to know...

Because our house is cooled by window A/C units, some places in our home still aren't so cool. And we're definitely more in tune with the weather outside. This is challenging because the weather is hot, but I'm actually grateful that I have time to think about the heat, and recognize that it's part of life, and live it. I feel less insulated from reality here, and I like that. And this state of affairs made me totally love stepping outside with Kiddo on Sunday when it was only in the low 70s for about an hour, and enjoying that weather too.

welcome home

We went back to our branch yesterday. Kiddo has a loud hacking cough right now, so we only attended the most important meeting, sacrament meeting. Although we went the long way so we could avoid the traffic for the major sport venue we pass, we did manage to get stopped by the motorcycle parade. So, we made it there 20 minutes late, but still in time for the opening song. (Thanks Elder, who led the music for me.)

But this did mean that we sat in the back, which is where the action is. I only whisper yelled at the two kids playing with the live turtle four or five times. And only fed Babs twice. And only was irritated at the kid who wouldn't share Kiddo's quiet book with her for some of the meeting.

But as I led the second song (and was vaguely overwhelmed by the chaos that I had idealized while I was gone) I was reminded that one of the families in the branch had gone to the temple while we were gone, and I thought, the work moves on. I'm glad to be a part of it, right here.

puddles on a Sunday afternoon

vacation wrap-up

Events of the vacation:
*blessing my baby.
*my brother's wedding.
*my family time.
*his family time.
*seeing old friends.
*the farm.
*mini reunion.
*maxi reunion.
*faux skydiving.

I've said it once, and I'll say it again, the best part of this vacation was family. The small downside to having so much at once is that it's hard to get to spend time with all of them, and I failed in that respect. For example, I have no picture with me and my dad. Other people do, but I don't. But, we did spend more time with Uncle K, my husband's brother. Here he is with my little one. (He kind of scares Kiddo half to death, so we chose not to force a picture there.) This is about 10 minutes before she pooped all over him. It made me laugh. And he assures me he doesn't care.

the amazing Aunt M

This is Kiddo's favorite aunt, Aunt M. Aunt M pours love and affection into Kiddo, as only an aunt without kids can do (as my husband's cousin H said, watching her unmarried brother play with her kids, thank goodness for siblings without kids, who have the energy to play with mine).

Since she was recovering from surgery, and we were spending time watching my brother get married off, we had not seen much of each other. But then we had a mini family reunion (with few pictures, silly us) for my husband's paternal side. And there was Aunt M.

Midway through the event, we moved from a Jump House (think lots of trampolines right next to each other) to a picnic at a park. Aunt M drove her own car, so we spent most of the trip assuring Kiddo that she would be there when we arrived, and to not worry.

As we pulled up, so did Aunt M. We pointed this out to Kiddo. She looked over, and immediately stated "Need my sunglasses!" Thank goodness they were in the diaper bag. This was completely inspired by coolest Aunt M who was wearing her sunglasses.

Except Kiddo's sunglasses aren't very cool. They are bright pink, and velcro with a strap in the back. Luckily she doesn't know that. And wears them without guile for brief periods of time on her own schedule. It totally cracks me up.

Thank goodness for a good aunt worth emulating in every way.

the farm

Me, my sister, and sister-in-law met at a historical farm. The kids climbed on a lot of tractors. We took a ride on a wagon pulled by a tractor. And we saw some animals (I also fed Babs a lot, so missed quite a bit of the action).

Kiddo started picking up handfuls of dirt from the paths, and throwing them into the pens claiming she was feeding the animals. This was gross, but cute, as long as the pens were empty. Then she tried it on the chickens. They went crazy, super excited (as only chickens can be) to get to the "food." Thank goodness for my sister who had old bread with her. She taught Kiddo that "chickens eat bread, not dirt" and provided her with an appropriate outlet for her feeding needs. Every time she stuck some bread through the fence I was sure she would get bitten. I half hoped she would so she would show some caution. I'm grateful she wasn't. Then we moved on to feeding the ducks. It was loved by all the little children we brought there. And, kept them enough occupied that we, the mothers, could actually talk. (This pictures stolen from Aunt A's blog.)