Chris’ video of his and Charlotte’s nightly after-bath routine has gone viral.
I’m not completely surprised – Chris and I watched it about 5 times before we even posted it; we could not stop laughing. I guess I always just assumed we think she’s hilarious because she is ours and we made her; I don’t really expect others to adore her since they don’t have the same ‘parent goggles’ we do (making everything she does awesome).
The internet is an amazing place. I, too, am a little famous in my own way. The pregnancy announcement I made when we first announced we were expecting Charlotte 2.5 years ago has been featured on Parents.com and will be featured on another site next week!
http://www.parents.com/pregnancy/signs/breaking-the-news/valentines-day-pregnancy-announcements/#page=6
What a week for our family’s celebrity status. Please, no autographs.
Poop Is My Kryptonite
I’m sure you can guess what this post is about.
Spit, vomit, pee, even slimy boogies. I can handle it. Maybe it’s the nature of my job that has desensitized me, or maybe it’s my natural ability to deal with those kinds of things that led me to become a pediatric therapist. Whatever the reason, I generally don’t have an issue with those sorts of icky things that typically go hand in hand with kiddos.
Poop, on the other hand… poop is clearly from the devil. And you know what? Kids poop every day! Often multiple times a day. It’s kind of annoying. I guess I typically take it in stride like any other parent, but Jack-Jack poops at least 5 times a day… at least!
A very stinky diaper amidst a crying toddler, a dog begging to go out, a cup spilled on the floor, a mound of laundry waiting to be folded… it’s just the straw that breaks the camels back for me. It’s my kryptonite and makes every ounce of patience in my body disappear. But patience must persist, because kids are kids. And kids poop.
If you’re like me and there are times in your day where you feel like you just might come undone, keep these words in mind:
When you’re in the pit of poop, God is there.
An update on Charlie Grace
Before Charlotte was born I purchased an adorable baby book. She is now 2 years, 3 months and there are exactly 2 lines of the entire book filled out. That really hurts my heart. I loved looking at my baby book growing up. It’s so special to me that my mom would take the time to write those things down and I want Charlotte to have the same. I’m thankful that I have at least recorded her biggest moments here on the blog, but I’d still love to get those words and pictures into her book. Maybe one day. I so wish I could record every single one of our moments together, because she’s pretty special and my memory is just not reliable.
On a slightly related note, Charlie can’t seem to remember Jack-Jack’s name. She refers to him as ‘that one’ (“mommy, that one smiling at me”) or ‘neighbor’ (“mommy, neighbor miss his mommy maybe”). In other language development news, her new favorite words to throw into conversation are ‘also’, ‘but’, and ‘maybe’:
“we doing that also, but…… he not got a cheese stick, so…. neighbor go night-night upstairs maybe.”
There are always a lot of pauses for effect and to allow for more words to be added to the run-on sentence. She is quite opinionated. and dramatic.
Since I’ve already turned this into an update on Charlotte, here are some of the photographic gems you didn’t get to see while I was on my month-long Facebook hiatus. Prepare yourself for Charlotte overload.
Emotions were high on the way home from school. I only brought 2 crackers for the ride home.
Bed head.
Reading bibles with a buddy.
Meeting her newest obsession in cardboard-cutout form.
Getting her wiggles out.
Helping grocery shop. Peanut butter always gets a place of honor next to her.
Ready for her preschool Thanksgiving party!
She’s been such a trooper with all of the crazy things we’ve had going on this month and I can see so much growth in her since beginning her preschool class. A little lady.
Month 5 is over and meet Jack Jack
I’ve returned to the world of Facebook and other media sites after a month of hibernating. My return is cautious, of course, since I’ve made great progress over the past month in reducing my addictions and don’t want to backslide into my previous time-wasting habits. I’ve got a blog post in the works detailing my month-long un-thrilling adventure in de-toxing myself from media; be on the lookout for that later this week. I decided to kick off my ‘return to the internets’ party by jumping right in to tell you about our latest adventure and my big parenting fail of the week.
We have an extra little one in our house for a few weeks.
We’ll call him Jack-Jack.
I’m fairly certain they used our little visitor as the model for Jack Jack in this clip from The Incredibles. Definitely a little fiery at times, and quick as lightning, but mostly sweet as can be. I don’t always feel like Mrs. Incredible, though. So, on to my parenting fail:
Yesterday (Sunday) evening we decided to take the kiddos to the park because it was a beautiful 65 degree day. I forgot, though, that just because it is warm doesn’t mean the sun doesn’t still set at 5:00pm. We roll up to the park after having chatted with Charlotte the entire way about what her favorite part of the park is and what she is going to do first, etc. It is dusk. The park gate is closed. Plan B. Chick-fil-A has an indoor play place that Charlotte can now traverse independently. We report to our 2-year-old backseat driver that the park is closed. She weeps. We try to stop the tears by talking about the yummy chicken nuggets she will get to eat and the slide that she can play on after dinner as we drive to Plan B. She starts gabbing all about her chick-fil-a desires and even says “Mommy, my Chick-fil-a waiting for me”. heart melt. As chick-fil-a comes into view Chris and I both realize it is Sunday. Chick-fil-a is closed on Sundays. There will be no slide. No chicken nuggets. Plan C. The mall has a play-place. And a food court. We drive to the mall. It is 5:30. The mall closes at 5:30 on Sundays. As we back out of the parking space, Charlotte weeps again, “My chicken, my slide”. More tears. Jack Jack begins to get hungry for dinner as well. Surround sound wailing commences in the back seat. We explain to Charlotte that the slide is closed. She weeps even bigger crocodile tears with her mouth gaped open and puts her hand over her forehead dramatically. Plan D. We drive home and let her eat bread and watch Frozen while laying under a fort.
She was just as content with Plan D as she would have been with Plan A, B, and C, but I hated that feeling of not being able to keep my word to her. This is just the first of many lessons we will both learn as mother and daughter. A lesson in disappointment for her, a lesson in keeping plans under wraps until the optimal time for me. I’m sure that isn’t the only ‘bread for dinner under a blanket fort’ kind of nights we will encounter as awesome parents.