A bit of an update

Here's the scoop on what's going on here lately. We're all okay other than the same crummy cold and nasty cough that just keeps going around and around and around in our house.

Amanda has already started blaming me for everything that goes wrong in her life. I didn’t expect this to happen for a few years but apparently she’s very advanced in the highly emotional drama and angst department.

She'll say,“I wish I were in the early class instead of the late one.” I know, Sweetie but it was up to the teacher. I told her we could do either one and she decided. There’s nothing we can do about it now. “It’s all your fault.” Well no, it’s not really. “I’m going to blame it all on you anyway.” Okay.

And…

“I really want to go to the drive-in tonight, Mommy.” I know, Sweetie, I really wanted to go too but your Dad says no, so we’ll go another time, okay? “It’s all your fault.” But I’m the one who wanted to go in the first place. I’ve been trying to talk your Daddy into it all day. “I know, but you couldn’t. So it’s all your fault.” Okay.

Wow. What have I done to this kid? I told you she’s a teenager disguised as a five-year-old. I’m telling myself that she’s practicing the whole mad thing on me because she feels safe with me or something. Because it’s easier to tell myself that than to write a Dear Dr . Phil, I think I must be a bad mom. Can you help me? And while you're at it, can you come to my house and plant cameras everywhere so the entire world can see how inept I am at this mothering stuff instead of just the people reading my blog? letter.

Other than that, things are not too exciting. Though I have to admit there’s a lot of drama around getting dressed these days. And I'm not even talking about me. Because I'm not about to admit to the entire world wide web that I'm packing some extra pounds right now that are making it NOT FUN to get dressed. I'm talking about my little sweeties. Both of them. And I say that through my smiling gritted teeth.

Amanda is all about wanting to be a grown-up right now. Look like a grown-up, dress like a grown-up, act like a grown-up. All she wants to wear are jeans, a long sleeved t-shirt, preferably one of her three grown-up looking ones, a headband in her hair and pink sketchers on her feet. (The pics are of her in her "uniform".) Fine, whatever. But it's getting warmer. So I bought her these cute little denim capris. They’re JEANS only shorter. so I thought she’d love ‘em.

“I AM NOT WEARING THOSE THINGS! Those are BABY PANTS, Mommy.” When I pointed out to her that Kailani, Luciana and Ariella were all wearing baby pants that day she said, "Yeah well they can but I NEVER will." And the next day when her fashion diva friend, Holly, showed up in them I said, "OH! Look… Holly’s wearing baby pants! Doesn’t she look cute?”

“Yes Mom. They’re cute….ON HOLLY. But I’m never wearing those things!"

Alyssa, after going through a month or two of being satisfied to wear whatever dorky thing I put on her has returned to being extremely picky too. It seemed to start the day I decided to try on her Easter dress. Yes, in retrospect, that was a really stupid move. Considering all the trouble it has caused, what difference would it really have made if on Easter morning her pink sundress had turned out to be too big? Couldn't I have just scotch-taped it to her shoulders like any other decent mother and been done with it? OH NO. I had to be sure that it fit so I could buy a different size if not.

But Alyssa doesn't seem to understand the concept of "trying it on" yet. So after we put on her cute little dress and her cute little pink and green matching sandals and proclaimed her the cutest thing on the planet earth as she twirled around and around and around the living room, for some reason she did not want to take the dress off. She pitched a fit at just the mention of it. A BIG fit. She wanted to keep her pity dress on. PITY! PITY! I PITY!!!

Now she's all persnickety about everything she wears. “I hate this shirt!!!” she will say as she frantically tries to take it off twisting and turning as she tries to remove it as quickly as possible like it's burning her skin or something. “I hate this shirt, I hate these pants...”

Why the hate? Can't we crank it down a level? Hate is a pretty strong word. Especially for a harmless purple shirt that you loved only an hour ago.

Mostly all she wants to wear are pretty dresses. Apparently Amanda went through the same phase at this age because when I dragged out a box of Amanda's old warm weather clothes for Alyssa I was thrilled to see that we are now rolling in pretty dresses. No occasion is too small to get all dressed up. Going to pick up Amanda from school? Want pity dress. Going to the grocery store or Home Depot? Need pity dress! Going to bed? Can I sleep in my pity dress?

There's a whole lot of pity going on around here.

Oh and Shutterfly is featuring my "50 Reasons I Love You" scrapbook on their home page! How cool is that? Of course the first thing Scott wanted to know was, "How much are they paying you?" Umm, nothing. "Well what did you say to them?"

"I said, 'Thank you!'" 'cause how cool is that?