Just sharing a picture

Here's Amanda in one of the new sweaters she got for Christmas. Thanks Grandma!

People told me that Amanda would suddenly look much older when I brought the new baby home and it's so true. She just looks like such a little girl here. Where did my baby go?

Can she really be three months old?

Yep, it's true. Alyssa turned three months old yesterday. I just love this age. She's cooing like a crazy woman. I can be in the worst mood ever and she flashes me one of those smiles, throws in a big enthusiastic gaaaaaaaaaaaah and I'm just falling all over myself. We have long conversations now. I just wish I knew what she was saying.

She still seems so small to me, which I am truly grateful for. Amanda flew through the tiny baby stage in about a minute and a half, I think. Alyssa can still wear most of her size 0 – 3 months clothes and I love that. At Alyssa's last appointment, her doctor made a point of telling me several times that she is average. (She doesn't have kids or she would know better than to tell a mother that her child is average. Average? Are you kidding me? Can't you see that she is spectacular in every single way?) She was only referring to Alyssa's size though. She's in the 55th percentile, which is tiny compared to her sister, who was a little butterball baby and was already off the charts in height and weight by this age.

She loves her pacifier but if it's not available she will happily put her fingers in her mouth, as many fingers as she can, as a matter of fact. She slurps so loudly and enthusiastically that it sounds like she's devouring some sinful dessert. Every once in a while I want to yank those little fingers out of her mouth to make sure she hasn't found my chocolate stash. Alyssa is fascinated by her hands, frequently staring at one of her fists as if it's just the coolest thing she's ever seen. (I remember I thought it was odd when Amanda did this but I guess it's a normal baby thing…or perhaps both of my children are freaks.) She's still sleeping through the night. (Thank you Alyssa!) She loves her swing, her mobile, and her rattle. Her sister is continually offering up a wide variety of other toys for her enjoyment but mostly gets a pretty unenthusiastic response.

Oh! Alyssa laughed for the first time a few days ago. I was washing her face with a warm washcloth and she started giggling. She did it a couple of times but then stopped. Later that night, Scott made a loud noise and it startled her. Her whole body jerked and I thought she might cry, but instead she laughed. So of course he repeated the loud scary stuff over and over again. She would laugh each time, which was just about the cutest sound on earth so then we would all laugh. But since then, she hasn't laughed even once, despite our repeated annoying attempts to get her to do so. I know… her face can only get so clean and if Scott doesn't knock it off with all the "BOO!" stuff we'll have to put her on anxiety medication before she hits the six-month mark. She's probably thinking we need to get some better material and don't think we're not trying.

Did I mention that I'm loving every minute of this? I am. But why does she have to grow up? I keep finding myself trying to memorize every single detail about her yummy little baby-self… the way she wraps all of her fingers around my pinky, the smell of her little fuzzy head, the sound of her sweet voice, the big drooling gummy smile she breaks into if you even so much as glance in her general direction… I find myself watching her while she sleeps and I keep wishing there was a way to freeze time somehow. But then I remind myself that I've felt exactly the same way about Amanda at every single age along the way.

Every age and stage they go through is wonderful for different reasons. (Well the screaming tantrum stage is not exactly delightful.) I know it will only get better but I still plan to enjoy every minute of this stage. So when she falls asleep in my arms I won't be rushing to put her down so I can finish the laundry or anything silly like that. Clean socks are highly overrated anyway.

Aren't they sweet when they're sleeping?

I know, I know… where have I been?

I just disappeared for a while, didn't I? Sorry about that. I've been busy and trying to stay off the computer so I could get some work done around here.

After packing up all the Christmas stuff I had my annual new-year-new-start desire to get the house totally clean and organized. So I did what I do every year when this desire comes over me: I told myself to sit tight and the urge would pass.

No, I'm kidding. I started cleaning. I started organizing. I started tossing out a humongous amount of crap. I still have a ways to go but things are looking up.

Scott actually tried to get Amanda and I to start the decluttering process before Christmas, but it didn't go well. Actually it went a little something like this:

Scott explains to Amanda that in order to make space for all of the new toys she'll be getting for Christmas, she will have to get rid of some of the toys she has now, the things that she doesn't play with anymore. He tells her that we will give them away to other little boys and girls who don't have as many toys as she does.

I start twitching uncomfortably. I know Amanda won't want to part with any of her toys. This isn't gonna be pretty.

Amanda, completely unfazed, scans her bedroom: Hmm, okay… I can get rid of that teddy bear.

Me: Which teddy bear? That one? What? Grandma gave you that teddy bear when you were born. You LOVE that teddy bear. Scott, she loves that teddy bear. She was just carrying it around yesterday. See how beat-up that bear is? That's called LOVE. We're keeping the bear. Amanda you love that bear.

Amanda, looking confused: Okay, I wanna keep the bear.

Scott, shaking his head and shooting me dirty looks: Okay what else could you get rid of?

Amanda looking at me, hesitantly: Okay, the frog…we can get rid of the frog.

Me: Which frog? Not the pink one…Fok? How can you get rid of Fok? You can't get rid of Fok!

(Many of you have heard the Fok story. Remember Fok? Can you believe she wanted to get rid of FOK??? For those of you who haven't heard the story, I'll try to dig it up and post it here so you'll understand why I couldn't bear to part with Fok. It's one of my favorite stories from a couple of years ago, though please be warned there is rough language involved.)

Amanda: Umm, I think I wanna keep the frog.

I realized at that moment that as much as I wanted to believe I was teaching Amanda to value her belongings, it was highly possible that I was actually destining her to a lifetime of psychotic hoarding so she'd end up one of those lonely old ladies with 14 cats living in a house piled high with endless boxes full of crap because she'd never been able to part with any object she'd ever come in contact with.

So I decided Mommy needed a time-out and we should attack the clutter issue a little later. Like after Christmas when I was feeling a lot less sentimental because it had become nearly impossible to walk through the house without stepping on some kind of toy. That was all the inspiration I needed to help me get ruthless.

Actually I think I might have made a complete turnaround when it comes to all of these stupid toys. I think I'm now turning into the wicked evil mother I never wanted to be. I spent my whole childhood feeling utterly deprived because none of my Barbies ever had shoes. They'd have them for all of two minutes and then somehow they would mysteriously disappear never to be seen again. All of my friends' Barbies had shoes, but not mine, ever. I was determined that one day I would buy my daughters those little multi-packs of tiny shoes. That's the kind of mom I was going to be.

And yet here I was not even two weeks after Christmas just wanting to accidentally suck those pointy little shoes up into the vacuum right along with the Christmas tree needles. You'd think I'd at least feel some guilt over it but really, not so much. I keep telling myself it's because those tiny shoes present a choking hazard to Alyssa and that you can't feel guilt over trying to save your kid's life (plus they hurt like a @#%$ when you step on them) but I still can't help feeling like I'm turning cold and heartless.

Oh well.

So I spent a day going through all of Amanda's toys, tossed a bunch, bagged up a bunch for charity, put some stuff in the attic and stored the rest in neatly labeled rubbermaid containers. The room is pristine and I expect it to remain this way for at least another 10 minutes in case anyone wants to stop by and see it.

No, I could not bear to part with the teddy bear or Fok. I'm not that cold and heartless. And I'll have you know that yesterday when Amanda was inconsolable over some great tragedy (she probably dropped an M&M behind the couch or something) she laid there on the floor moaning, "I want my teddy bear, I want my teddy bear." She would probably still be lying on the floor if I'd trashed the bear. Occasionally Mommy does know best, okay?

And now the story of Fok, the hot pink Frog… These are old pictures… both of them have aged a bit and Fok is looking a lot more loved these days.



August 8, 2004

After a recent horrifying shopping experience, I was NOT anxious to go shopping with Amanda again, but I was desperate. Mommy needed a new pair of shoes. So we had a little chat in the car about what a good girl she was going to be. She said, "yes yes, good gullllll" and I made sure she understood what she had to do to qualify as a good girl. (I know, I know... I hate the good girl/bad girl labels, but desperate times call for desperate measures) I explained how she would hold my hand until we got inside and then sit in the stroller the whole time we were inside without screaming or begging to get up, "yeah, good gull... hode han...sih stroh..." She said it so convincingly too, over and over again as if it was silly of me to even question it.

Well I have to say she did a lot better than I expected. She held my hand until we got right in front of the oncoming car and then she went limp like spaghetti and dropped to the asphalt so I would pick her up. Fine, fine... She happily got into the stroller, no biggie. The entrance we walked through took us directly into the kid section - toys right there in her face. I hoped that it would at least temporarily trick her into believing we'd come to a fun place with really great stuff instead of where we really were: a big, stupid, boring department store.

So we happily strolled along for a good twenty to thirty seconds before she started yelling, "GEH UP! GEH UP!!!!" and we had to go over the good-girl talk again. The talk was rather rudely interrupted by her yelling loudly, "Fok!!! Fok! FOKKKKK!!!"

I was horrified, of course, but it turned out she wasn't actually swearing like a sailor, but instead she was trying to say "frog," which I finally figured out because she was desperately motioning toward a hot pink stuffed frog while yelling these profanities. I fetched it for her immediately hoping it would quiet her down. And it did for a bit. But as it is when she learns any new words, she likes to try them out repeatedly. So we strolled through the store with her chanting, "fok, fok, fok!" and me loudly saying, "Oh you love that FROG, don't you, Sweetie! It's such a nice FROG."

That was one quick shopping trip, let me tell you. Though I managed to find some really cute sandals to throw in my cart. When we reached the cash register I was afraid to take the frog away from her, but it was that or shoplifting, because you better believe that thing was going home with us. I pried it out of her little hands and threw it on the counter explaining to Amanda that she could have it back in a second, at which time she screamed in horror, "FOKKKKK! Fok! Fokkkkk..." I turned to the woman in line behind me and with my cheeks, bright red, I exclaimed loudly enough for the whole line to hear, "She sure does love this FROG!"

And that's why Amanda and I are never going shopping together again.

Happy 2006!

Midnight at our house...

My party girl was sleeping and my sleeping girl was partying.

Happy New Year to all!!!