Because I promised my MIL for some photo updates

We were on the way to Sugar Daddy's office for lunch today when Van Morrison came on. I turned the radio up.

"Wiggles?" from the backseat.

"No, Van Morrison. We like Van Morrison, don't we?" I proded thinking of many a drunken college days swaying and slurring to "Brown Eyed Girl."

"Wiggles."

Listen up Duckling, there's apparently very little that I can control in the world and it's your sad luck that one thing I do happen to have power over is my car's radio. (Nah, nah, nah, nah boo-boo) Now, you will sit quietly and listen to Van Morrison as I try to maneuver through the city without hitting any bicyclists.
_______________________________________________

The Duckling and her cousin, Lugnut Beefcake, hanging out last weekend.


"You can't always get what you want..." Part 2 (of many to come, I'm sure) That wise, wise Mick Jagger...must have had two year olds in mind when he wrote that little ditty. Nice hair, eh?


The happier of my two children, Peanut.


The Duckling assists in the organization of the computer room while I blog.


My sweet, sweet baby who is too young to destroy a whole lot, but has indeed gotten the whining thing down whenever Mommy isn't holding her.

Enjoy your weekend!

mama, who is off to take a snoozer herself and then taking the little beasties to the park to wear them out for a bit

Wherein I lose just one more ounce of my sanity and eerily resemble a junkie needing a fix

We went to Target today and if you stay through my, what I guarantee will be a most entertaining story, I will reward you with photos of the world's cutest girls.

We started off going to the Tarjey concession stand because it was close to lunch and I thought I could buy The Duckling's good behavior with a large, soft pretzel. This old woman approached us and had to check out both of the girls and ask me repeatedly how I would like to have seven kids like the woman in Iowa (ummm, I would put a gun in my mouth) or if I was aiming for twin boys the next time (if it were to happen, I might take a giant leap off of a very, very tall building). Finally the concession chick comes over and the pretzels won't be done for another ten minutes.

That might as we be next Tuesday in the mind of a two year old. We ventured on, empty handed.

Our first stop was in the baby aisle for (no, not another baby), but some soft leather shoes for Peanut. They sell 0-6 mos. or 6-12 mos. Now, she's 5 1/2 mos....do I dole out $13 for a few weeks or get my money's worth by making her wear shoes that are a little big. I'm married to an accountant, you better bet that Peanut is going to be looking a bit like Bozo for the next month or so.

On to the toddlers' shoe section. Now, I should have guessed that repeatedly whacking myself on the knuckles with a five pound hammer would have been less painful, but it's Monday and Monday brings out the ambitiousness in me.

I released The Duckling from her restraints in the shopping cart and you'd have thought that someone at the zoo proclaimed it "Free the Wildebeest Day". She took off for the main aisle as I snatched her hood and drug her back to the shoes we needed to try on. After wrestling the wild beastie for a few moments I got her to try on a few pairs and walk around (without too many fleeing incidents).

Now was the time that all wild animal capturers fear...entrapment. No easy way to do this...I scooped her up and shoved her into the cart. The screaming began. A lot of screaming. A lot of very loud screaming. I could do nothing but laugh hysterically. I couldn't pretend to be embarrassed. I couldn't pretend to get so mad that we were going to leave the store (I had more on my list, dammit!!!).

Finally the screaming and writhing hit a lull and I strapped her into her Floppy Seat and handed her the box of shoes. She looked at me, opened the box, and flung the top on the floor, then the shoes and then the bottom of the box.

Then her Kix went out the cart. One. At. A. Time. through the shoe department and then home goods.

The next 15 minutes went forth without incident.

Because I've somehow addicted The Duckling to those nice, young Australian men that all American mothers love for one reason or another I wanted to pick up a Wiggles CD to fill in during long car trips. The Duckling saw this an immediately had to hold the new CD. She managed to hold it together until we got out of the store with a teeny, tiny exception when the checker had to scan the CD.

We got the car loaded up and The Duckling was ready for her new music so I started trying to get the CD open. Now, there's not just plastic wrap, oh no...there this huge plastic contraption I have to cut away. Thankfully I have an arsenal of pocket knives in my car which finally allowed me to get to the coveted Wiggles CD. I started thinking about how sad it was that I was maniacally pulling and cutting at this plastic unable to wait until I got home to use my good kitchen scissors. And then it occurred to me, WHO am I really opening this for? My two year old or me?

I put the tunes in and jammed all the way home. Th hughlights were "Toot Toot Chugga Chugga Big Red Car" (where I tooted and chugged and sang really loudly) and "Rock A Bye Your Bear" (which made me cry, but that's only because I'm a hormonal mess).

Alright, here's your reward...

Yummy 


Corn

"I'm just abused, day in and day out, but I lack the ability to run away..."

If there's one person in this house that deserves a double Gin and Tonic (heavy on the gin) more than me, it's poor Cashew.

Dressed in girl's clothes (how humiliating...everyone knows Cashew is a boy bear).
Made to sit in any number of baby contraptions.
Put in the bathtub and has water dumped on his head.
Stomped on by The Duckling's precious feet.
Shoved in the garbage can for a friendly game of "Hide & Seek".
Being sucked on and having his nose gnawed on.

"Screw the rocks," he says blearily, "make mine straight up."

mama, who gives three cheers to Cashew for enduring The Duckling's daily abuse and "love"

How much irreparable damage am I really doing?

See the cup that The Duckling is drinking out of? It has a straw. Finally, my nearly two year old daughter has learned to use a straw.

She came to me yesterday with an apple juice box, which, might I add, she has NEVER had before. She found it in my stash in the kitchen, I tried to give it to her MONTHS ago when she was sick so we still have some extras hanging around.

"Jooose?"
"Honey, you don't drink juice."
"Jooose?"
"Alright."
I go to the kitchen and grab the cup that she's drinking from in this photo and fill it with water. I'm pretty sure that she doesn't want juice, she just wants to drink out of the straw.
"Here's your juice, baby."
She manages to slam back three cups full of "joose" (water...) through her straw.

Then, she pees for the second time ever on her potty.

Do I feel bad that I'm lying and telling her it's "juice"? She's happy. She's drinking water.

Someday I SWEAR I'll reintroduce her to real juice, but for now it's nice to know that she doesn't know about the sugary sweetness...watered down or not, it's still not water. I know it's impossible to shield her from the evils of sugar forever, but soon enough she'll figure out that the Oreos I eat after dinner are indeed cookies and not rutabaga, as I've been telling her.

mama, who isn't really sure what rutabaga is but is sure that it's not hurting to tell that little white lie to The Duckling...if in over three decades I've never been exposed to rutabagas I'm sure she won't either...

Guess who pee-peed in the potty for the first time ever yesterday?!?!?!?!!?

Could I possibly be approaching the day when I only have to buy ONE size diapers when I make my weekly run to Target!??!

mama

Correspondence between Mama and Peanut dated 9-15-2005

Dear Peanut,

Loved your lists below. I've noticed the distinct change in your demeanor in that being placed anywhere other than my arms or the Bjorn is not acceptable. Dually noted with irritation. Also, we will continue to have on-hand your dietary staple that is gas drops.

Another little issue I'd like to address with you is the fact that you don't seem to be sleeping through the night at five months old. I know I set high standards for you and The Duckling, but it's for your own good. Mama is not a night-friendly person and it's in your best interest to sleep through so that Mama may do the same. Getting up three times a night just isn't working for me. Let's see if you can't work on sucking down the remaining three ounces that you habitually leave in your bottle. Nighttime is for sleeping, not eating. The Dairy Bar closes promptly at your bedtime, these late night emergency snacks are just no good for me.

Other than that, I love the new baby straight-jacket Daddy bought for you. While you tend to bust out of it immediately it does keep you warm at night and that's good as we enter fall in the North.

I hear that you are fussing for me already despite the fact that I don't think your morning nap, at 40 minutes, was nearly long enough. What do I know though?

I love you, Peanut.

My Lists of Good Things and Bad Things By Peanut Duck

Things that are good/I like:
1. Boobies
2. Grabbing a fistful of Mommy's hair and pulling it...hard
3. Shoving the same fistful of Mommy's hair in my mouth
4. My toes
5. When The Duckling smiles or makes funny faces at me
6. Ba-bas (bottles)
7. Baby Bjorn (this is new and I don't know why Mommy and Daddy didn't have one from the moment I was born)
8. Pootie
9. Being picked up and carried around for hours on end
10. The feeling after I've taken a really, really large poop

Things that are bad/I hate:
1. Gas
2. Being put down...anywhere
3. Gas
4. Being put down...anywhere
5. Gas
6. Being put down...anywhere
7. Gas
8. Being put down...anywhere
9. Gas
10. Being put down...anywhere

Love,
Peanut

Would You Just Look at How Cute They Are: Part 8

Alright, you've waited so patiently, here are the latest and greatest shots of my adorable little girls. The latest verbal advancement of The Duckling is her belting out of "Dinga Behs" (Jingle Bells) at Wal-Mart at the top of her lungs.

The entire song consists of "Dinga behs, dinga behs, dinga behs" over and over and over again.

Get ready to tell me just how darling they are. In pictures they could influence you to have another baby, but let me tell you...spending a week with them alone is a great method of birth control. I love them and all, but those middle of the night feedings will eventually be the death of me. I can read the headstone now, "Mama loved her babies, but the nightime feedings did her in (maybe)."

Guess who had rice cereal for the very first time this weekend? (I'll give you a hint, it's the one who has gas really bad after she tries ANYTHING new)

Guess who also had her very first ponytail EVER this weekend? A weekend of firsts! Here she and The Duckling share their hairsyling secrets as only sisters can.

The Duckling wishes for a jungle gym for her birthday, but until then? Daddy will have to do!

The Duckling INSISTED on holding Peanut and refused to let go! (she really is having fun despite the look on her face that might lead you to believe she smelled or touched something very nasty...I think something creepy is on Baby Einstein)

mama

It's finally that time

The time to watch what we say, that is.

As Papa Duck was working on bills he wsa miffed about something (having to pay them?) and said, "Crap."

For the next 15 minutes we listened to The Duckling walk around repeating, "Crap. Crap (gales of laughter) Crap. Crap. (grinning) Crap. Crap."

Crap indeed.

Now, if she starts up with the "f" word I'm just not going to have any clue where she picked that one up. Lucky?

mama, whose mouth is so clean it could pass the health inspector's visit with flying colors

My own little Bevo

Just a little taste of home for Friday.

I am LOVING the weather that we're having here though. CANNOT complain. It's been gorgeous for the last three weeks. Cool nights and morning and comfortable afternoons in the upper 70s lower 80s.

Just for the record, I still FULLY intend on whining and complaing throughout the winter about how much I hate the snow and cold and ice.

You've been warned.

mama