Monday, March 31, 2008

a pedicure update.

I didn't have time to paint my own toes.

I did have time to paint someone else's.

So yeah, the baby has a dong. He was perfect.
Welcome, little boy. We can't wait to meet you.

pink or blue?

Today's the day we get to see our tiny one. If you think of it and are so inclined, you could please pray around 4:00. Pray that everything is as it should be and that maybe the babe would show us the goods. This mama woke up at 3 AM all nervous and excited. All day I have found myself wishing I hadn't scheduled the appointment for so late in the day.

A friend suggested that I paint my toenails pink or blue depending on what we find out today. Any guesses? Pink toes? Blue toes? I'll let you know as soon as I call the Oma.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

in my element.

I want to remember how she calls balloons baboons. That she can be bribed into eating dinner with the promise of being able to give Monkey a bone. I want to remember how every single thing is a trill. Even getting groceries.
I was feeling pretty good for a pregnant lady. Then I found myself throwing up Friday morning with a small, confused audience. Claire looked at me like I was insane when she turned off Sesame Street and I turned it back on and saying, "We need to watch this, Girlie." Thank goodness for old friends who will come and play with your kid while you rest. Tiff, you are my hero.

Also, Nate came home with a little surprise on Thursday. And just like that, I'm no longer a minivan mom. Not that I ever really was.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008


Dear Claire,
Yesterday marks your 23rd month of life. I've been trying to get you to practice saying, "I'm 2" and showing you how to indicate this with your little fingers. So far, you're not interested. That's okay, we've got time. Good Friday wasn't. You were sick all night and we kept passing you back and forth, cleaning up the mess. At one point, in my exhaustion, I tried to snuggle you into our bed but you wouldn't have it. Ra-ching-chair (rocking chair), you moaned, until I gave in and rocked you for what felt like an eternity. That night made me doubt my ability to handle the long nights with the new baby. I forgot how horrible you feel after saying up all night. Thankfully, you were better by Saturday and you spent the next few days reminding us why we thought having another kid was a good idea.
You got sidewalk chalk in your Easter basket and even before you knew what it was, you were pleased. You were not pleased with the little egg hunt I set up for you, as the eggs had (inedible) plastic dinosaurs in them. When you opened the eggs, you shrieked and actually shed tears in response to their lack of chocolate. I'll make a note of that for next year.

For a while now, your very favorite thing has been buses. You are always pleased when Dada brings one home from work, but you especially liked this one. The other morning as he was loading up the truck for work, you stood at the door and shouted, "Go Go Shop!" and "Go Go Dada!" like a crazed miniature cheerleader. I'll gladly shout "Go Go Claire!" long after you'll wish I wouldn't. I love you, Clairegirl.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

yoga for toddlers.

Being almost 2 is awesome. You can feel free to drop into a downward facing dog several times a day just for fun. Life is good.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008


You wait a long time for your child to participate in a conversation. When she finally is able, it's overwhelming. And then she doesn't stop talking. Ever. She requests pattycakes in the name of every person she's ever met. Eighty times an hour, she asks you the location of Dada and Monk. She wants fishies, crackers and juice at the worst possible moment. She has opinions about what she ought to wear. Best of all, she shows you phantom "owies" and requests kisses. You want to die from the cuteness. Then one day, as you're tucking her in, she says, "I love you, Mama" completely unprompted. You stare at her, wondering if she could possibly know what that means. And you say, "I love you, too, baby." And she smiles.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

pregnancy tip.

You probably don't want to watch the Biggest Loser. Trust me.

Monday, March 17, 2008

little bits.

Today I took Claire with me to the doctor. Her eyes got wide during the "listen to the heartbeat" portion of the show. She pointed to my belly and said, "baby." Then solemnly stood beside me and took my hand. It was sweet and strange at once.

I've been telling her that we're going to have a baby at our house, and she likes to talk to the baby. Unfortunately for me, this involves hiking up my shirt so, I don't know, her voice isn't muffled? She always tells the baby the same things: Hi baby. I love you. I'm ya big sister. See ya later, baby. I thought she was really starting to understand the concept and then a few weeks ago, she pulled Nate's shirt up and said, "Hi baby. I'm your big sister."
I guess we have some explaining to do.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

favorite things: 23 months.

A sink full of water, two sippy cups and a chair.

The "toddler totes" at the library.
Making Moo-shies*
A free volkswagen bus toy from the thrift shop.

*Smoothies, friends. Smoothies.

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

what a little burdy brought.

Not only did we get to play with some pretty cool boys a few weeks ago, we also got a wonderful, wonderful shirt from my seriously talented friend, Katie. Go check out her shop and buy a bunch of these. Claire wore hers this morning to the library and the compliments were flowing. It's a nice change from the oversized volkswagen t-shirt she would wear every day if I let her. Thanks Katie. I'm glad you're my friend.

Sunday, March 02, 2008

i don't know you but i want you even more for that.

There are good things about second pregnancy. It goes fast. You already have tricks to combat nausea. You can skip the pregnancy books and focus on important things like why Paula said she wanted to hang that little American Idol boy from her rear view mirror? And why is that a compliment?

There are hard things. You forget how tired you will be. You wait just a little too long to make the switch to maternity jeans. Your husband may mention that this time around just isn't as exciting for him. And you find yourself worrying about this one a lot more than you ever did about the girl.

When you think about the first one, you remember the end. The gigantic-manatee time. Watching your belly do the wave. The early months feel long and lonely. You hear maybe one too many story about someone else's tragedy. You eat another Cadbury's. You place your hands on your swelling belly and say, "do something." Your wee small child, the size of a lemon, is quiet and still. What else can you do? You wait. And while you wait, you may as well have some entertainment in the form of your childhood self in a bad wig and an awesome jumpsuit. There, that feels better.