Rambling randomly

• Kennedy is good to her baby dolls. She's good to her stuffed animals. She's even good to a few things that don't merit hugs and kisses, like a bottle of hair spray or the kitchen chair. But for whatever reason, she is hostile when it comes to pictures of babies or toddlers. I'm hoping this is just a phase and passes soon because it can be extremely embarrassing and a little disturbing when she slaps and yells "No" at a Parents magazine when sitting in a busy pediatrician's office.

• Kennedy ran into the screen door the other day.  Not sure if she did it on purpose or not.  Regardless, the fingers hit first and the 24 pounds that followed suit proved to be just enough oomph to jolt it off its track. 

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• Did you know the ice cream man doesn't take the winter off here?  'Tis true.  Although we haven't taken a stroll down the street to catch him, he frequents our cul-de-sac often and his music can be heard by both Chief Small Ears and Chief Tall Ears.  Marley thinks he's some kind of musical UPS man while Kennedy thinks the music is just as riveting as watching the garbage man empty our garbage can on Mondays and Thursdays.

• I accidentally door dinged a lady's car the other day when I was putting Kennedy in her seat.  As luck would have it, she was sitting in her car with the window down.  The tears didn't roll during the actual bitch-Michelle-out fest, but I might have shed one on the drive home.  It was just one of those days.

• Sometimes I wish a week would pass without a new battle wound.

• I need more craft projects like I need more menu items that please the K palate. 

• We were at the park the other day and ran into a girl who's in Kennedy's gymnastics class.  Turns out she's not only her gym mate but she's also our neighbor (like they probably watch me roll out the recycling in my jammies kind of neighbor).  Small neighbor?  No.  Well, yes, this particular girl actually is very small but that's not it. Small gymnastics class?  No, that's not right either.  Ah, yes.  Small world.

• This is usually how we roll on the weekends.  Marley chases Brandon.  Miya chases Marley.   Kennedy chases Miya.  And I chase photo ops.

• Do you ever wonder what kids dream about?  I do.  Like when Kennedy started screaming during her nap today but never woke up.  Maybe giant babies leaped from book covers and were chasing her.

• After spying last year's Easter clearance spewing out a storage cabinet the other day, I was reminded that egg hunts and Peeps are around the corner.  Or maybe it was this bunnachshund (that's a bunny-dachshund for the ones not familiar with the breed) that got my pastel wheels a turnin'.

• I think Murphy is gonna make a good big sis. 

(This is Murphy on the left just in case you were wondering.  Jen's furry daughter.)

•  Some days I feel like Miya.  Unlike her, though, I kinda like being pulled this way and that.

Keeping it simple

The other day I found myself filling our tub full of bubbles galore.  So much so that it looked more like an open bottle of Mr. Bubbles fell into the hands of a one year old rather than the hands of a mom who knows not to dump half a bottle of Mr. B directly in the mouth of Niagara Falls. 

I couldn't help myself though.  "Feed me, Seymour, feed me" kept dancing in my head and I went with it.

We had a bath in the middle of the afternoon with no hidden agenda of cleaning the dirt from our feet or the cookie residue from our mouths.  It was simply a bath drawn to play and explore in.  And I say "we" because even I found myself neck deep in the cavernous bubbles, growing bubble beards and throwing bubble snowballs.

Keeping it simple. 

When I eyed Kennedy sneaking my makeup out of the "off limits" drawer, the itch to stop her and take back all my brushes, blushes, eye shadows and lipsticks was like wanting to kill a fly that's found its way in via an open door.  Instead of swatting the fly away, I took a deep breath and let it land. 

I watched her concentrate as she applied her makeup.  I watched her carefully choose which area of her face the brush would touch.  I watched her trying to imitate me.

 

So, she missed her mouth all but one time and it was the perfect shade of plum to bring out the scar on her right temple, but she loved every minute of the carefree primping. 

As for me, well, I'm just glad I didn't scratch that itch.

Keeping it simple. 

The play dates have even been simplified lately.  No need to pack up the car with snacks, sunblock, strollers and drive all the way to the zoo when the Petsmart down the street offers its own free-of-charge exploration.

And the girls found cat toys to be equally hypnotic as watching purple giraffe tongues lasso in acacia leaves at the zoo.

Not to mention, I've yet to see one of these exotic rodents at the zoo.



Keeping it simple. 

Getting the mail. 

I used to save mailbox visits for times when I was in the car coming or going.  Times when I could jump out, snatch the mail and jump back in.  Times when I was solo.  But the girl digs being my mail assistant and in my quest to keep it simple, I've decided to hire her on permanently and retire my somewhat Chinese Fire Drill method of retrieving the mail. 

Her mid-year performance report may or may not include things like: 1) gets sidetracked often; 2) has a tendency to taste test packages; 3) fails to stay on the sidewalk; 4) repeatedly tries picking up hazardous materials off the ground; 5) is known to ditch her duties for grassy knolls and people watching; 6) responsible for laugh lines and crow's-feet on her mother's face.

Keeping it simple. 

The morning sun usually finds us at the park.  We've discovered a smaller park just a hop, skip and jump away from the house.  And since the park is usually desolate until the dismissal bell rings at the school down the street, Kennedy is free to run and jump and climb and slide as often as she likes, as there are no lines, no waiting.

Keeping it simple.

This one isn't exactly simple in the respect that it required us to buckle up and drive for a good 20 minutes, but it did require simple mathematics.  The train park.  We rode the train twice and the carousel once and only had to count out five one-dollar bills. 

I sat behind the camera for the better part of the day and found delight in simple things like little hands grabbing big hands, polka dot bottoms running from place to place and laughing with Brandon at how serious Kennedy always looks, even when she's having fun.

I stand corrected.

She doesn't ALWAYS look serious.

And that's how we be keeping it simple. 

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The inspiration for the outfit came straight from the water table runways of, probably, China. 

Designer:  Christian - The Caterpillar - Dior.

Before the silence

The last family member filtered out on Tuesday.  The Hokenstad Hotel is vacant.  And the "Please Clean" sign has been hung on the door.  Phew.  I loved every minute of the holiday madness, but I gotta tell ya, nothin' beats waking up and going downstairs all disheveled, braless and the calendar empty.


Let's see.  Before I get into all the warm and fuzzy, let's take a look at the cold and sharp.

Meet the enemy formally known as my full length mirror.  One minute Kennedy was kissing her reflection and the next minute she had successfully pulled it on top of herself, leaving her trapped and covered in glass.  The end result:  Trip to the ER/by far worst day of my life/six stitches/I still need therapy from the ordeal/Kennedy hasn't changed one bit, still a crazy, kissing, climbing monkey.



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Christmas was perfecto.  The only thing missing was the white stuff.  Due to its absence, the new wheels got to burn rubber in the driveway. 

We started a few new traditions this year.  One being opening our presents Christmas morning as opposed to Christmas Eve.  It was weird, yet I get the whole can't-sleep--holy-cow-did-I-just-hear-Santa-on-the-roof--is-it-morning-yet anticipation now.  I was so anxious for the present business to get underway.  Usually, Christmas morning comes and my lazy body calls for another ten minutes under the covers because, you know, the presents have already been opened and the stockings can wait while I lay there another minute.  But this year a bottle of sleeping pills wouldn't have been strong enough to keep me in bed.  There was still so much to look forward to.  Family in their jammies, stockings, dogs engrossed in new bones, banana bread, a princess quad with a pink ribbon attached, awaiting its entrance, little fingers anxious to rip off wrapping paper, Christmas music floating through the air, hearts a flutter as they lift tissue paper to uncover gems picked especially for them, hearing Kennedy say "Ho, ho, ho," ornaments glistening in the morning sun, and realizing that playing Santa is so much more fun and fulfilling than just receiving from Santa. 

It'd be nice to say that after we opened presents and ate our Christmas turkey we hopped on a plane and cozied up to a mountain for some downhill skiing and log cabin relaxing.   However, that dream only works if your kid enjoys sleeping in a pack-n-play in a strange, unfamiliar place.  Since the little lady of the house prefers her cave to wooden beams, bear rugs and moose heads, we clung close to our casa and sought out other adventures instead. 

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With two dogs and and a young'un, it's close to impossible keeping my windows clean.  The Windex is always on-call and hardly gets a day off.  Feeling insecure about finger smudges and dog nose remnants, I quickly found comfort when I eyed these sunbathing beauties' home.  So, it's not just me who has window issues.

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New Year's Eve was caaaraaazeeee.  I passed out on the couch around 7:30 listening to Brandon and Doug play Cribbage.  Was summoned to the dinner table about an hour later to feast on fillets and twice baked potatoes.  And kissed my pillow Happy New Year right after my fork was done hitting the plate.

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It's 2011.  My house is quiet.  My windows are smeared.  I need to go to bed. 

So, here's to a year full of laughter,

happy and healthy children,

and finding beauty in the small things.

Cheers!