Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Dance Party

About every other day, Grace will go in her room, shut the door, turn up the radio REALLY loud and just dance. Or sometimes, if she gets it too loud, come running out of the room, screeching for help turning it down. 

We know the dance party is going on as soon as the radio starts blaring. It isn't satisfactory for the radio to just be on at a normal volume. Everyone knows the room has to be rocking for it to really be a dance party. 

Yesterday, though, Scott and I were chatting in the kitchen when we heard the radio rev up. We looked at each other, laughed and finished chatting. 

I headed to their room to turn down the radio, and when I opened the door, my heart stopped for the briefest of moments.  

Grace was STANDING on top of the changing table. 


And jumping up and down. 

And generally scaring the crap out of her mom. 

No. More. Dance. Parties. 

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Growing Pains

I have so many thoughts and stories swirling in my head. 

I'll start with my dear, sweet, loving little girl, Claire. 

Who has been a little less dear, sweet and loving lately. 

She has known the word no for a long time, but she's started using it much more aggressively lately. 

Claire, let's put your shoes on. 


Claire, don't you want to go bye-bye? 


Claire, we're going to the park to play and you need your shoes on before we go. 

NO! NO! NO! 

And then she takes a swing. At ME — her dear ol' mother. 

So, I think we've entered some terrible twos, which I'm trying my darnedest to remember aren't actually terrible. My little girl asserting her independence is a sign she is growing up and becoming a free thinker. This is good. 

Now, if only we can work on the hitting. 

And pushing. 

And kicking. 


Grace is the most unpredictable kiddo I have ever met. One day she's a firecracker, pushing me out the door while screaming "BEEP, BEEP." The next day, she's sitting in my lap, patting me on the arm, telling me "YOUUU" (That's how she says love you.) 

I have found no rhyme or reason to her mood swings … she's just Grace being Grace. 

And just as "happy" as I am that Claire is discovering independence and exploring her own opinions, I'm equally happy that Grace is content to be Grace. 

At 23 months old, she is already displaying a character trait that I hoped to teach them later in life: Be you. Don't worry about what others' think. Be happy with who you are and be confident with who you are. 

The foundation is there. She's happy being Grace. 

Now, we just have to maneuver through adolescence and we'll be good. Easier said than done, I'm sure. 


All this talk about growing up is making me feel mushy and sentimental. 

And when I get mushy and sentimental, I turn on the country music and start looking through old baby pictures. 

And when I start looking through old baby pictures, I start to miss my itty bitty little babies. 

And when I start to miss my itty bitty little babies … 


I think I'll go clean a toilet or two.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Now and Then

So, so much has changed in the last year. They are running and jumping and dancing and singing and TALKING. It's really quite amazing all the changes that can happen in a year's time.

On the other hand, some things never change.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Halloween, Vol. 2, Issue 2: Tricky Things

Let's go back about a week. It's Halloween day. A mostly normal day. 

We decided this year that we were going to trick-or-treat at the mall and save their little legs/our backs from walking the neighborhood. 

We got 'em dressed. Claire was cool with her costume. Grace, not so much. She mostly hated the hair. But I think she hated the implication that she may terrorize my house as much as Thing 1 and Thing 2 do in Cat in the Hat. I told her "Hey, if the blue hair fits." She didn't find it amusing. So, we ditched the wig until the mall, hoping we could sneak it back on once we got there.

We got there, we tricked, we treated, and the girls loved seeing all of the other kiddos. The Dr. Seuss-inspired costumes -- created by my little sister and I -- were a huge hit. And we even got Grace to wear the wig. Things were going good. 

We ate pizza at a nearby pizza place afterwards and then headed home. This is where things started to go down hill. I was getting more and more tired as the minutes ticked by. Not only had I got up at 4 a.m. for work that day, but then I worked an 11-hour day, rushed around trick-or-treating and I was getting a touch cranky. 

Ok, ok, a lot cranky. 

We put the girls to bed and waited for them to fall asleep. And waited. And waited. 

At 10:45 they were still talking and my work day was about five hours away. 

I decided to just go to bed, thinking for sure they would conk out soon. I got my purse, dug around looking for my phone (a.k.a my alarm for the morning). It wasn't there. 

I looked in my coat pockets. My car. In my jeans. Purse again. In the living room. Bathroom. Kitchen. Car. Bedroom. Purse again. 

My family even helped me look for it. Under the couch. On the table. Under the papers on the table. Under the table. In the shoes under the table. 

Finally, I got Scott's phone and just started calling it. I probably called it 10 times before I told everyone "LOOK, I'M SURE I LOST IT. I DON'T CARE ABOUT MY PHONE ANYMORE. I'M JUST TIRED AND WANT TO GO TO BED." 

Like I said, I was a tad cranky. 

I walk down the hallway to the bedroom and the girls are STILL chatting away in their room. Completely done with this day, I push opened the door to find out what in world could be keeping these girls awake. 

Expecting a pitch black room, I was a bit startled to see everything in the room. Claire sitting in her bed, facing Grace's. Grace laying on her tummy, feet up in the air, ankles crossed -- with the source of the glow in her hands. 

My phone.

Trick-or-treat, indeed. Trick-or-treat, indeed. 

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Halloween, Vol. 2, Issue 1

There's a story to be told here. But that will have to wait until another day ... a less work-filled day. Until then, which I hope is soon, I give you my dearest, cutest, funniest Thing 1 and Thing 2.

Look! We found Cat in the Hat! 

P.S. It is not a coincidence that in the book Cat in the Hat, Thing 1 and 2 destroy the house. I repeat: NOT a coincidence. Also, a HUGE thanks to my sister Cassie for helping create the costumes ... you rock, lil' sis.