Update at 28 Weeks

Busy, busy, busy! I’ve been busy doing all kinds of things, but lately, I’ve really been busy enjoying myself. The baby is growing, growing, growing inside of me, making me feel tired, still. She’s kicking around like crazy! I’m so happy, too, because she is no longer breech, so now I’m really feeling confident. (Not too confident, though!)

I’m so pleased to say that since my last post I told my mom about the home birth and she was 100% supportive and curious about the whole thing. It’s so great to know that we have that support…thanks, Mom!

Our midwife came to the house for her first appointment. It was so awesome because not only did we not have to wait in a waiting room for 45 minutes for our appointment, and not only was Maysen able to run around and play without destroying any medical equipment or accidentally stabbing herself with hazardous waste syringes, but Diana (the midwife) was at our house visiting for two hours. That may seem excessive, but much of that time was spent filling out paperwork and going over my and Ronny’s medical history. You know those forms that you have to fill out every time you go see a new doctor? Well, it was pretty much the same type of paperwork, but instead of me scribbling in the info in the waiting room Diana sat there with me and asked the questions and filled everything out herself right in front of me. I don’t think the doctors really even look those forms over, but she asked in-depth questions about all kinds of things. She really took the time to get to know me and establish a relationship. And when I asked about the Rh factor in my blood, which I’ve asked at least two doctors about only to be dismissed as just something I needed to get a shot to remedy, she actually took a few minutes to explain the whole scenario. It was pretty cool.

Then, instead of peeing a cup and setting it in a little window to go who-knows-where like I did during every appointment of my first pregnancy, Diana had me pee in a cup and showed me how to run the test myself. She did it with me and explained all of the little ins and outs of the pee test. It seems silly, perhaps, but it really feels good to be involved in my own medical appointments.

Then she did the routine belly measurements, took my blood pressure and pulse, and was satisfied with the weight that I told her I had been at my last doctor’s appointments. When it was time to check on the baby, I was lying on the couch, all nice and comfy, listening to the sound of the birds chirping outside my window rather than the sound of nurses giggling in the exam room next to me. She palpated my tummy to feel baby’s position, and explained everything that she felt. Then, instead of listening to the heartbeat with a mechanical thing, she used something called a fetoscope. It was kind of silly looking, really, to see her forehead pressed into this little horn thing, and I seriously doubted that it really worked, but she let me give it a listen. It was much more difficult to hear the heartbeat, but after a minute I was able to hear it. 144 bpm. Perfect. All in all, she said I’m pretty much a textbook pregnancy and healthy as can be. I’m feeling really great about having the baby at home, and really excited about the potential of a water birth.

*       *       *

Maysen has been doing great, too. I mean, just look at this face!

It’s no longer about what she’s learning to say. At this point she can say nearly everything she wants to, and I understand nearly everything that comes out of her mouth. Her newest thing? “Mommy? You’re sick (or sad, or you don’t feel good)? You need a hug and a kiss? (gives me hugs & kisses) There, now here’s Coco (or any of her other babies). You feel better now?” And the best part is that she genuinely seems concerned about how I’m feeling.  Ronny has figured out how to exploit this situation by making a pouty face. Every single time he does it, Maysen says, “Daddy? You need a hug and a kiss?” And every single time, he says yes and she climbs up on top of him to give him some sugar. What a sucker!

She’s so excited to meet her little sister. I explained that Diana was the person who was going to help bring her baby sister into the world. Immediately after her nap on the day of Diana’s visit she asked where her sister was. Now I’m reminding her that we still have almost 3 months to wait! So she gives my tummy kisses and hugs and pats before running off to get into some kind of two-year-old mischeif.

Setting a Bad Example, Perhaps

I knew my tub of Snickers ice cream was melting in the back of my car, but I really didn’t care. I had promised Maysen that she could go to the playground if she behaved herself at Target. Of course, I had to have about 8 different snacks and a lollipop to keep her quiet in the cart, but she was good, so I had to fulfill my promise.

“Only a half hour at the playground then we go home for your nap.”

“Only a half hour,” she said pensively. She was quiet for a minute, then she said, “How ’bout Maysie skip her nap today.”

Why does this kid know how to communicate so well? She speaks in full sentences. Yesterday on the way to the park she said, “Playground with the happy face on the tree, where are you? Playing peek-a-boo?” Is this normal conversational skill for a 26 month old kid?

Anyways, so we went to the playground. May played and played and then noticed that the little water spigot by the sand box was running. Usually it’s one of those things that you have to push the button really hard to get a little squirt of water out, but for some reason it was jammed today. Evidently water had been running for quite some time because there was a little river in the sand box that led to a very large puddle.

Of course, surely because she was wearing her white boots, Maysen wasn’t happy stepping over the river or carefully circumnavigating the puddle like all of the other kids. She had to test out the splashability. At first she just kindof tapped her toe on the edge of the puddle. Then she slowly let her foot go a little further until she found that she could stand in the middle of the puddle without falling. She started investigating the different ways of splashing. There was a clomp, clomp, clomp as she alternated stamping each foot. Then she realized that if she jumped, she could make really, really big splashes.

Then I don’t know what got into her. Maybe I should have stopped her. She started spinning around in the sand-mud-puddle, then bending over and spinning so that her balance was all off. Then, the inevitable happened. She fell over. Luckily she landed so that her butt was on the edge of the puddle, so she was still somewhat dry. But then she started splashing with her hands. I could see the thoughts running through her head, the different sensations she was feeling, the different textures, the curiosity, the exhiliration of making a mess doing something that you’re probably not supposed to be doing.

She looked up at me with the biggest, most beautiful grin, and all I could do was smile back. What could I do? Take her out of the puddle right in the middle of her discovering how fun it was? I decided to let her play. And play she did. She stood up, spun, jumped, danced, yelled, “it’s dancy dance time!” and then plopped down on her butt right in the middle of the puddle. Kids started staring. Parents started staring. I heard a 5-year-old in a glittery pink princess dress yell, “eeew! She’s playing in the mud! She’s getting all dirty! It’s in her boots!” Four little girls all lined up in a semi-circle around the puddle completely flabbergasted that this little kid was getting so messy. It was like they had never splashed in a puddle in their lives, because, why would you actually want to get so wet and messy?

Maysen noticed them staring at her and stopped for a second, looked up at them, giggling, and then jumped and splashed as high as she could. The girls squealed as the mud barely missed their feet. They asked me how I was going to get her in the car. “I don’t know, I guess I’ll have to take her clothes off.” I could tell that the girls’ mom/chaperone couldn’t tell if she should judge me for letting my kid get so messy and set such a bad example for the other kids or if she was secretly envious of my little mud ball. I heard her tell one of the girls that it was okay, sometimes mud can be fun.

I was so bummed, though. I ALWAYS have my camera on me, but today I had left it in the car. I figured I could go for a half hour without taking any pictures. Lesson learned. It was such a beautiful sight to see all these 4- and 5-year-old princesses’ expressions of complete awe as my little Maysie grinned and giggled as she got as dirty as possible. They looked at her as if she was doing something totally weird and wrong, like, say, shoving pebbles up her nose.

When she stuck her face in the puddle, I called it quits. Of course I had to drag her away kicking and screaming, literally, and getting mud on myself in the process. We went to a little patch of grass and I took her muddy, sopping clothes off. She giggled some more and ran around in circles, letting the warm sun dry the muddy water off of her.

It was such unfettered freedom and joy for her, and for me as a spectator. I knew she was going to be a huge mess, as would my car, but I didn’t care. This, I thought to myself, is one of those moments of pure joy to remember. It’s the kind of moment that a grown-up can only experience vicariously. Who cares if my ice cream becomes its own sticky puddle in the car? These are the moments that matter.

It’s Gonna Be A …

If you don’t want to know the sex of our baby, you might not want to read this post.

We waited until she was born to find out that May was a girl. There was something really fun about waiting, and Ronny and I both really loved having the surprise. I think it really drove other people nuts, though, because they wanted to know if they should buy us gifts in pink or blue. This time around we’re probably not going to have any shower (we had THREE for May) and I’m not expecting to receive a whole lot of gifts.

I wasn’t sure that I really wanted to know this time either, but the pragmatic reasons were there in my mind, and hubby kind of wanted to know. So, on the way to my 24-week ultrasound (supposed to be at 20 weeks, but it was one of those insurance situations) we made the decision to find out. As soon as we had made the decision, I suddenly couldn’t wait.

The ultrasound lasted nearly an hour, so we really got some great looks at our baby-to-be.

Wowee.  Those pictures really uploaded big. Well, at least you get a good view. Which is something that took the ultrasound tech a long while to get. First the baby had its hands over the genitals, so I said, “It’s a boy!” Then, the legs were closed too tight to see, so I said, “It’s a girl!” We had told the tech that it was still a surprise for us, and we asked her to write the sex down on a piece of paper and put it into an envelope for us. I was about 86% sure it was a boy, as was Ronny, so this all kind of felt like a bunch of hullaballoo, but we thought it would be fun for May to open the envelope.

When we got home we decided to have the big reveal.  Nana and Baba were there, and we got Grammy and Papa on Skype.

Wait for it.

 

 

 

Wait for it…

 

 

 

 

Maysen opened the envelope and showed us this:

We’re going to have a GIRL!!!

I can’t underestimate my surprise. I literally believed it was going to be a boy. This pregnancy is so different from the first. But Maysen’s going to have a little sister!!!

Now, we just have to get down to the business of finding a good midwife. Before you keep reading (MOM) I want you to know that we (I) have done a lot of research to come to this decision: We are going to have a home birth. At first Ronny was pretty hesitant, and when I say hesitant, I mean that he interrupted my first sentence about the topic as soon as he heard the words “home” and “birth” with a big, fat, matter-of-fact “NO.”

Harumph. I’ve always thought a home birth would be a really cool experience, and after having Maysen in the hospital, and having certain things about the experience that I would change if I could, I really wanted to make it happen. Part of the reason I tried to get him to consider it was that in our new city there are NO birth centers (unless you call the hospitals’ L&D departments, which they call “birth centers” to make them sound all pretty and nice, to actually BE a birth center). So the option is either hospital or home, and after asking for referrals and doing online research, mostly very technical and dependable facebook research, I discovered that the only real natural birth- and woman-friendly hospital in the area is St. Luke’s, and without traffic that’s at least a 30-minute drive. And gridlock traffic on the 101 is very, very, very frequent.

Obviously this is Ronny’s kid too so I knew that he had to be 100% on board for it to even be an option. Well, one night I managed to talk him into watching The Business of Being Born. (You can watch it for free on Netflix.) I thought maybe it would be something to at least open him up to discussion. He had to close his eyes through a couple of spots, but otherwise he watched the entire film.

I almost fell over in shock at the end when he actually said something along the lines of, “well, what do you think?” “What do I think? What do YOU think is the real question.” “Well, it’s your decision.”

We had a nice conversation about everything. No, it’s not my decision, it’s OUR decision and his opinion is (almost) as important as mine. Wink, wink. He actually said, “Let’s do it.” Whaaaaaat?!? As long as we (again, this means I, at least for the research part) do extensive research, interview midwives personally, and have a super-sound back-up plan — and, of course, this is all assuming that the baby is healthy and there are no known risks — he said he’s on board.

I thought he was just kindof being nice and trying to get me to stop talking about it so he could turn on Family Guy, but then a few days later I actually heard him tell someone that we’re going to have a home birth. Not ‘Nikki’s nuts and trying to convince me to have a home birth;, not ‘we’re kind of throwing around the idea of having a home birth’, but ‘we’re going to have a home birth’.

I…am…so…excited…about…this!

Wordless Wednesday

Love at 23 weeks.

Clutter

I don’t know. Some times being a stay-at-home mom can be a little more challenging than others. Sometimes it feels more like I’m just a housewife, which sounds, to me, really lousy. While other moms are out working and being productive, I’m at home, most likely in sweats, picking up toys and dirty dishes. All…day…long.  Don’t get me wrong; I do not want to go to a full-time job. I LIKE staying at home with our daughter. It’s just that it’s such a thankless job. A job where progress never really happens. A job that is much more difficult than it appears. No bon-bons and soap operas for this lady.

I never get to enjoy the fruits of labor from cleaning the house top to bottom. You know that feeling when everything’s all clean and sparkly and there’s a fresh scent and the laundry is all done and put away? That feeling after a cleaning sesh that was actually enjoyable because you can actually make headway? That feeling where you can light some candles, pour a glass of wine and watch reality television or read a book without even the slightest touch of guilt? Well, between my tornado of a toddler and a husband who doesn’t think twice about where his dirty clothes land or what happens to his dishes after he leaves them on the coffee table, I never get to have that moment.

Even if I do get all of the clutter picked up, the toys put in the toybox, the dishes in the dishwasher and the laundry all folded, I NEVER get to the point where I wipe down the bathroom or mop the floor…what’s it called again when you wipe down your furniture? Dust? No. I don’t do that either.

Why? Because I know that nap time only lasts two hours unless I get lucky. I know that when said nap time is over, all of the mess that got put away will be upheaved and strewn around the floor again. I know that after I go to bed hubby will most likely have a glass of milk and some other snack, whose dishes will still be on the coffee table in the morning when I get up to start everything over again. The dirty underwear will be in front of the bathtub, the jeans hanging over the back of the couch, the  socks directly in front of the couch, and most likely globs of jelly or a warm bottle of ketchup on the countertop.

So, I wonder, what’s the point of cleaning up the mess at all? I’m not entirely sure that our house wouldn’t start resembling an episode of Hoarders, but maybe I’m okay with that.

If I could spend half the time just picking up after the other two people in my house — oh, all right, I guess I leave my own fair share of the mess — I could probably actually pull out a cleaning product or sift through the box-of-crap-I’ll-deal-with-later-cause-I-don’t-know-where-to-put-it-now. But it doesn’t happen.

Maybe the problem is that we just have too much crap.

So you know what? I decided to treat myself to a little time alone with my blog. A little time so I can just complain without worrying about sounding like an ungrateful diva. I don’t have to get up and go to a job that I hate, so what do I have to whine about? The truth is, I don’t really like working. Lazy? Perhaps. (But I’ve always done a good job when I actually did have a job, so future employers, don’t count this against me.)

And what do you know? As soon as I sit down and get comfortable with my computer, the “you are now running on reserve battery power” message comes up.

Figures.

Guess I’m going to use this time to read a book!

 

The Case of the Missing Coco

Being a mother has been an absolute joyride lately. I wouldn’t say 100% of the time, but overall we’ve had a LOT of fun lately. Yes, we’ve been busy and I haven’t written. And I’m not going to apologize this time. We’re just moving on.

We moved to a new city this month and are still unpacking. Somehow in the hubbub of moving out of our old house (in which we lived for a ridiculously brief THREE MONTHS) we misplaced May’s beloved best friend, Coco. Now, I can’t really remember exactly how much I’ve said of the little bunny who has been her #1 BFF for a good eight months or so (Vaca is BFF #2, by the way). Let it just be said that not a day has gone by since the two of them forged their friendship without Coco being in bed alongside May and Vaca and whomever she has chosen to cuddle with for the evening. She drags the little white bunny around all day long, she watches her Baby Einstein, Classical Baby and Yo Gabba Gabba with Coco. She gives her choco-bock. She still, after a good 4 or 5 months since the incident explains Coco’s missing eye by saying, “Bella puppy bite off Coco eyeball boo-boo Mommy fix it all better now.” And it was all better, by the way, because I sewed a cufflink plug that looked absolutely identical to the original eyeball into the gash that used to be Coco’s eye socket…until Maysen chewed the new eyeball off again.

Anyways, so the bunny went missing. For several days. We searched the house up and down, with a forlorn daughter following us around whining, “Coco go? Coco go?” but during the time between Coco sightings we had movers come, pack up the house, load all of our junk onto a moving truck and move it several hundred miles to our new house. In the meantime, every day, all day long, May would ask where Coco went. She cried before bed, and asked for her first thing every morning. So every day, all day long, I would have to go out on a limb, hoping that Coco would eventually show up, and say to May, “Coco had to go to our new house ahead of us to make sure that it is a nice house.” I said this in good faith, but I said it before we had even found a place to live. But inside I was thinking, where the heck could that little stuffed bunny be?

A few days later we arrived at our hotel for the night. May had been sleeping in the car, but she woke up during the walk from the car to the hotel bed. She was all sleepy and drowsy so I tried to just sneak her under the sheets. She lay there, still, silent, eyelids drooping, all sweet and sleepy. As she curled up into a little ball, rolled over, sighed and got all cozy, just when I thought she was about to drift back into sleepy time, she very quietly, gently, in her cutest little baby voice, said, “Coco new house?” Meaning, of course, “We’re in our new house, now, so cough up the bunny…or else.”

Crap.

I had held on to the hope that maybe she would forget that I had said that Coco would be waiting for us in our new house, and maybe forget the bunny alltogether, but apparently I had been mistaken. Little did I know that that would be the very first thing she thought about when we walked into a new place. “Yes, honey,” I said. “Coco went to our new house, but we’re not there yet. We’re in a hotel so we’ll see her soon.” Maysen seemed somewhat satisfied and settled for Vaca and a sippy cup of milk, but I was sweating bullets. I whispered to Ronny between gritted teeth, “We…have…to…find…that…bunny.“

When we had found a house, signed a lease, turned the key in the door, and set Maysen down, she of course asked for her bunny. We started unpacking boxes and searched everywhere logical for the stinking bunny. About three days into our new home, and three long days of endlessly dancing around questions about Coco, she finally showed her fuzzy little one-eyed face.

And do you want to know where we found Coco? In a kitchen box with the crock pot! What kind of crack head mover guy would pack a beat up, grubby little cyclops bunny with a friggin’ crock pot? Maybe he found it next to said crock pot, but come ON! Could he not have deduced that this little thing might mean the world to a little two-year-old?

A moment of pure joy. Ahhhhh….and mommy’s relief.

The lesson learned here is that we better hurry up and find a spare Coco…if we can. I had avoided it, as I didn’t want to have to pry Coco out of May’s arm as she walked down the aisle for her high school graduation.

Here’s another picture, this one of Vaca, in case the little cow ever decides to go hiding among the kitchen appliances.

I'm seeing visions of the first day of school. Sigh.

With this story of the missing Coco adventure, I managed to get distracted. But we’ve moved into our new house and have been having so much fun. May is napping now after returning from her first muddy worm-hunting expedition.

She’s learning to talk so, so much. And I’m not talking 2-3 words at a time. Just today in the car I gave her a bagel chip with (oops) a little jalapeno bit in it. She said, “ooh! Picey! Mommy get drink water!” So I handed her a bottle of water. “It picey but drink water make it all better now!” Now, I understand that she hasn’t worked out all of the grammatical intricacies of the English language, but I’m pretty impressed.

When I asked her if she was ready to go worm hunting this morning, after having explained what we were going to do as I rocked her last night, she said, “Go find worms eat food go poo-poo pee-pee!” Which I know, because I explained it all to her, means basically “We’re going to go worm hunting and then put all of the worms we find into the compost bin. They’ll eat all of the food and their poo-poo will make nice, healthy soil for us to plant flowers and herbs in!”

She can also sing the ABCs, You Are My Sunshine, Rockabye Baby, and several others. Apparently she doesn’t like the way I taught her Rockabye Baby, though, because she now corrects me on the lyrics. It’s no longer that the baby rocks IN the tree top, it’s rocks ON the tree-toppie. If I don’t sing it like that she makes me start over. She has gotten very bossy, actually, with song-singing. If she wants to sing a song on her own, she’ll interrupt my singing with a “top, top!” so that she can sing it without my disturbing her. I’ve created a monster.

She’s saying all kinds of cool things. And fully able to hold a conversation. Check the Maysie Bits page for examples sometime soon. Hopefully I’ll get a few more on there. I have another story of something she said that was SO hilarious, but a little inappropriate for me to post here. Ask me if you want to hear the story. I actually was so shocked when she said it that I could do nothing besides double over in laughter. Thankfully, Ronny held onto his composure and handled it.

Oh, and I guess I really haven’t written much about the pregnancy yet, have I? Let’s see… We’re officially half way there. 20 weeks and 4 days. I’m looking as big as a house already, and have been feeling little fluttery kicks for about three weeks now. I’m still sooo exhausted; I’ll be fine and then all of a sudden feel like I’m about to pass out if I don’t sit down and watch Ellen or HGTV or something for like three hours. We’re waiting for our new health insurance to kick in, but we’ll probably get to find out the gender on the next visit (if we decide to). Did I ever post a pic of the new baby?

9 weeks?

I swore I wasn’t going to be a cliche, but it turns out that I am. Everyone says, “just wait until you’re on your second baby. You won’t take nearly as many pictures, and you won’t mark every single milestone.” I always denied that I would be that way, but, alas, I have been.

Anyways, this photo was from our first (and so far only) ultrasound, which I believe was at about 9 weeks. And I know my mom took a photo of my belly, somewhere around 17 weeks, but I can’t seem to find it now. I’ll find it and add it soon.

For now, I’m just glad I got a little time to myself, a little time to blow off all of the unpacking and cleaning I have to do, to sit down and update my blog. Hopefully I won’t be such a stranger. Until next time…

A little update.

You know, it’s funny. I’m always griping about how I don’t have any time to write, but suddenly I find myself alone, with time and no child, and I really don’t feel like I have anything to write about. I kindof just feel like I should write simply because I can. But what do I write about? I have so many things going on right now that I don’t even know where to start.

 

Pregnancy:

I’m now 16 weeks along, almost 17. I think it was about this time, or maybe 15 weeks, that I started this blog when I was pregnant with Maysen. I’ll tell you one thing. I’ll have to go back to check to know for sure, but I don’t think that at 16 weeks I was even showing at all. Now, I’m already very round. I look like I’m already 7 months along. Seriously. Well, after I eat a meal I look like 7 months, but when I wake up in the morning I look more like 6 months.

 

I feel fine, for the most part. But I’m soooo tired all the time. I’m sleeping like 9 or 10 hours every single night and it’s still not enough. I still feel like I need a nap by 2pm.

 

Maysen’s Two:

Ok, here’s where I have to point out that I’m not as committed a blogger as I would like to be. Most “mommy bloggers” honor their children by writing a sentimental post about the happiest moment of their lives – when their child was born – on their birthdays. According to my calculations, I should have done that four days ago when Maysen turned two.

I absolutely have things to say. I absolutely regret that I haven’t sat down to write that yet. I absolutely doubt that I’ll ever get around to it. No, maybe I will. But that’s the exact kind of thing that I should be writing right now. But I don’t feel like it.

Her birthday was fun. We didn’t do anything extravagant. I wanted to throw her a party, but because we don’t really have a lot of kid friends, there weren’t enough people to invite, and also because of all of the other stuff going on in our lives right now.

I guess I should list those things so I don’t seem like a total slacker. 1. Ronny was looking for a new job. 2. Ronny found a new job. It’s not in San Diego. 3. We’re moving to San Mateo and have to find a place to live. 4. I’m in San Mateo now and it’s TOUGH to find a place to live. 5. Either my parents or Ronny’s parents are in town. 6. There are other things going on that I won’t list. But you get the picture.

Anyways, we went to Chuck E. Cheese for May’s birthday and she had a blast. Her little cousins were there, aunt and uncle, Nana and Baba, and one more friend. Oh, and Mommy and Daddy.

All she wanted for her birthday was a blue and black cupcake. Easy enough.

 

Anyways, I know this isn’t the post we’ve all been waiting for with baited breath, but it’s all I’ve got in me for the time being.

 

Until next time…

My Husband’s Secret Language

My dear husband can talk to anyone about anything. Granted, he’s not one of those guys who knows a little bit about everything, but he can, in fact, have a conversation with anyone about anything that they choose to talk about. A few years ago, after I called bull#@!t when I noticed he was conversing about something he had absolutly no knowledge or understanding of, he let me in on his secret. Since then I’ve noticed him doing it ALL…THE…TIME. It’s a brilliant conversational tactic that seems to work pretty much every time he uses it. But, as it’s his secret tool, I don’t think he’d appreciate me sharing it. (And, FYI, not everyone can practice this technique. I, for example, can not do it as I don’t have the appropriate personality quality required for this…er…talent.)

There are, however, two things that he CAN talk about for hours, days, and, as is the case with a few of his buddies, even exclusively for the duration of a friendship. These two things are movie quotes and Family Guy. Seriously.

Nearly all guys seem to be able to speak, at least for a basic conversation in the language of movie-quote-ese. This may be equivalent to, say, a basic Spanish 101 convo:

“Hola, como estas?”

“Estoy bien, gracias. Y tu?”

“Muy bien, gracias.”

“Es muy fria hoy.”

“Claro que si. Es un dia muy bonito.”

“Donde esta el bano?”

“No se. Donde esta el restaurante?”

“En la calle. Me gustaria comer tacos hoy.”

“Yo me gustaria comer pizza.”

“Ok, mucho gusto.”

“El gusto es mio.”

“Adios!”

“Hasta pronto!”

Some women can speak the language, but these are rare, maybe as rare and elusive as, say, Bigfoot, and they seldom speak fluently. Even then, their level of conversation would be akin to what is above, only they may also be able to throw in an occasional vocabulary word or phrase to pretend to understand and speak the arcane language. The men generally pick up on this quickly, give a small courtesy laugh, and shrug the woman off in order to continue their conversation privately, albeit loudly.

Two women who share common interests may get together and bring their husbands along for double dates. At any given time these two women talk about their kids, the new parks they’ve visited, yoga, a recent movie they’ve seen, shopping, celebrity gossip, the latest tech gadgets, blogging, the housing crisis, politics, the healthcare initiave (which I still don’t understand), or, heck, maybe even existentialism and religious beliefs. Whatever. It could be the world’s most interesting conversation, but the guys’ eyes will, 9 times out of 10, gloss over, and they’ll find themselves swigging their beers wondering how to get out of this miserable double date.

Then, one of them will say, “Hey, did you see such-and-such movie?” Then the other guy will chuckle and reply, “(insert one of a gazillion different movie quotes here).” Then the first guy will laugh and follow up with another movie quote. The conversation usually continues from there, quotes jumping from movie to movie, until Ronny brings in a Family Guy quote. Or, if the guy happens to be Ronny’s perfect match, he’ll do the honors of reciting the first FG bit, which will make my hubby’s little puppy tail wag. In my experience observing Ronny’s “manly” conversational habits, I have observed another pattern. I’d say about 95% of the time the other guy will laugh, nod knowingly, and follow up with another Family Guy quote or situation.

Those who have studied Family Guy and have developed a good grasp of the language can speak for a good while, rehashing and laughing over situations and quoting, word for word, said situations. Then there are those who are completely fluent in the language of Family Guy. Ronny is one of these weirdo freaks who I just can’t relate to interesting and talented people. When you get two or more of them together, it’s like watching a remote African tribe through hidden cameras on the Discovery Channel. They have the uncanny ability to continue this conversation for . . . literally . . . hours, in their own little world, as if no one is watching or listening.  Trust me. I have witnessed this happen, usually to my absolute ennui to the point of my falling asleep and waking up in a puddle of drool, many, many times.

Ronny even has one particular friend with whom he speaks of nothing else. Seriously. I asked him yesterday if they talk about anything else and he said, “we’re just not that kind of friends.” If they text each other, it’s in the FG code. They may text a situation or quote which can be translated to, “Hey, I’m in a golf tournament next week. Want to join me?” This quote would be replied to with another quote which could be loosely translated to: “I’d love to, but my girlfriend planned this stupid daytrip with her friend and her husband. Unfortunately, I have to tag along and play nice. It’s gonna suck. Hopefully the other guy will be able to speak our secret bro-language.”

I’m not joking.

Here’s another example. We had a poker game the other night at our house. It was Ronny, me, and three other guys, one of which was the said FG/MQ-only speaking friend. They sat across from one another, and while we all had normal poker game conversations, these two talked Family Guy and movie quotes to one another exclusively. Seriously, I don’t think a snippet of English passed between the two of them. But they made each other laugh all night long. I’m pretty much inured to it so I tune it out and just note that it’s nice to see Ronny laugh out loud so much. The other guys seem pretty used to it, too, as the game and normal conversation went on for hours.

Occasionally, and I mean very rarely, we’ll come across a guy who, in response to Ronny’s Family Guy or movie quote, will respond with a blank, confused stare and a subtle shaking of the head. Ronny knows immediately that the two of them have absolutely no hope for any sort of conversation or friendship. It’s his way of sniffing the other dog’s butt. If there’s no mutual interest, he’ll walk away without a second thought. That’s just how it is. And at that very moment, no matter how good of a time I may be having, and no matter how excited I am to be out with another couple, I know in my heart that we will never have another double date with this couple again. It’s a sad, sad realization.

This post took an entirely different turn than I had planned. That said, my next post will hopefully go more in line with my original intent.

That’s one of the cool things about writing. You may or may not know what you want to write about, but then what actually comes out can surprise you completely.

Until next time…

Beautiful Nails

I went to get a much needed mani/pedi yesterday. The little place that I go is right down at the end of my street. It’s really basic and there just two ladies work there, both always speaking Vietnamese, I think. One thing that really trips me out is that the one who does the manicures always has a little bluetooth on her ear. It’s on throughout the entire manicure, and because it was on during my entire previous manicure, I can only assume that this is a regular habit of hers. It does not sound like she’s on a phone call. In fact, she very rarely even says anything. Just an occasional chuckle or small comment. She speaks so seldom that I assumed the thing on her ear wasn’t even turned on. I assumed she just talked to herself. But then when she does say something, she says it really quiet and under her breath. Half Vietnamese, half English. It’ll be quiet, quiet, quiet, then she’ll say, “Oh, you know, he do nothing wrong. (Insert strand of Vietnamese syllables here.) He just die.” Quiet, quiet, quiet. Then I’ll hear some sort of banging or something coming from her ear piece and she’ll titter quietly. “You want me clean eyebrows up?” she says without looking up, and I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or the phone. Then she does look up and points to my face and says, “You need cleanup.” Weird.

So I asked her what the heck was going on. Apparently this gal leaves all of her kids at home. I didn’t ask how many, but for some reason I assume she has six. She just leaves them at home with the speaker phone on in the kitchen and she listens to them all…day…long while she does nails and waxing. They do their homework, they watch TV, they talk to each other, and occasionally they make her laugh or ask her a question.

I assume she has unlimited minutes.

The other thing I don’t get is this. What’s the point of the hand models and the posters in the little nail salons? I assume that they’re there so you can see just how beautiful your hands could be with a little manicurely love. But look at this. Seriously, what gives?

Are they trying to say that they can put colorful claws on corpses? Because a few of those hands look like they’ve come from chilly cadavers that have been hit by cars. And what’s with the hook nails? I don’t understand this phenomena, but what I do know is that nearly every salon I ever go to has the same ridiculous display. And yes, I do in fact only go to the cheap little Asian “salons”. I can’t bear the thought of paying $40 for a manicure. Plus, as you can see in the photo above, this place also sells Cheetos and Doritos.

But here’s what really made me laugh. They always have these cheesy, soft-focus posters with “beautiful” long fingernails on 80s-esque hand models. It’s usually hands gently holding a long-stemmed rose as red as the shellac on the inch-long fingernails, or sometimes it’s long “beautiful” hands lying across a piano. This one that I saw yesterday, though, REALLY took the cake. I mean, fo’ rizzle?

First of all, I would say that these hands look pretty rubbery and non-functional, but say you’re in a situation where you actually need to use your machine gun. Do you think that you’d really have the time to get that gat situated in your beautiful hands? How would you get those talons into the little hole to pull the trigger? And what happens if you run out of bullets and need to re-load? I assume the nails are strong enough that they won’t break, but they just seem so inconvenient. And if you’re going to be shooting a gun like that, wouldn’t you at least want a camouflage pattern on the nails? I’d be willing to bet that’s a possibility.

I’m sorry, NaBloPoMo

I’m sorry, dear NaBloPoMo. It looks like I missed a day yesterday. I think I’m gonna have to quit you this month. It’s just not right for me to post just for the sake of posting when I don’t have the energy to put any thought at all whatsoever into what I’m saying. I’m too tired to stay up late blogging and I’ve been too busy during the day. I’ll post as often as I can this month but I just can’t guarantee a daily commitment.
My apologies.

I Wuv You, Too, More!

I often think about what a former co-worker said to me once when I was pregnant. He said that being a parent is amazing, and that you’re constantly surprised by your own capacity to love. He explained that after having the first baby you’d think it’s impossible to find enough love in yourself to have enough left for a second baby. And then the second one comes and somehow you have double the love.

Every day I look at Maysen and I fall more deeply into love with her. She’s amazing. She melts my heart. And I seriously can’t imagine that I could ever have enough love for another child. How could I ever love anyone as much as I love her? It doesn’t even seem possible.

Before May I was always, in my opinion, a little incapable of really loving someone. Of course I love my husband, of course I love my parents and my brother, but it’s different. It’s not a heartwrenching love that leaves me feeling helpless like it is with her.

Just in the last few days she has learned something really sweet. Here’s our newest dialogue:

Me: “You know what?”

May: “I wuv you!”

Me: “I love you, too!”

May: “I wuv you, too, more!”

Sigh.

Nana taught her the “more” part. Does she really know what she’s saying, or does she just know that she’ll just get a big warm hug and kiss from me when she says it?

My beautiful girl. Such an angel...when she feels like it.

 

Nothing to say today

Today was a great day, but I’m too exhausted to write anything. That’s the problem with NaBloPoMo. You make this commitment to write daily, but then when you have a lot going on and you put off blogging until bedtime, you end up feeling obligated to post just anything. I know it totally defeats the purpose of the while exercise. Maybe I picked the wrong month to blog daily. Or maybe it’s just tough to find the time when you spend the day with your whole family. We did celebrate Christmas today after all. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better blogging day for me, but considering we’ll be driving home and hanging out with Ronny’s mom for one day while she is in town tomorrow, you probably won’t get much of a post from me. Sorry!

On our way home now

Just a tiny post tonight. We hung out in San Francisco today and really enjoyed ourselves. Barely took any pics but here are a few.

You’re Getting Beat by a One-Year-Old

Yep, Ronny just called it when he said, “you’re getting beat by a one-year-old.” Granted, she’s almost exactly a month away from being two, but she is still one after all. I’ve given up on trying to get her to go to bed tonight. I think she’s just so excited and wound up from the trip, but I’m sure the apple juice Ronny gave her right before bed isn’t helping.

Usually bedtime consists of a few stories followed by my glorious singing which leads to one very sleepy kid who sweetly rests her head on my shoulder and occasionally tells me when she’s ready to go to sleep.

I only brought four books on this trip: Olivia, Pat the Bunny, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and Hug. We’ve read Hug over and over and over and over and we’ve read Olivia nearly as much. Pat the Bunny has only been cracked once, and I almost forgot that we brought The VHC. Tonight, we started Hug, but the stinker wouldn’t sit still. Instead, she insisted on ripping down the dishtowel I have duct taped over the window curtains, which made me mad because I’m neurotic about having people being able to see in my windows at night. She thought it was hilarious but I was pissed. Then she just wanted to jump on the bed and play “tap” on my stomach. Ever been to Gymboree? If you have, you’ll know the tapping game. But it’s not a good game to play on a bloated pregnant belly. Then, even though I explained to her that Daddy wasn’t in the RV, that he was in the hot tub (yes, we’re staying at an “RV Resort” tonight), she insisted on ripping open the curtains and searching for him, knocking who-knows-what over as she ran through the 18 (or so) square feet in which we’ve been living for the last week or so. I pick her up and explain that it’s time for bed, and she screams, “Otay fiiiine!” which, as I’ve explained before, means “no!” So I turn off the light and try to sing her favorite songs and she screams and kicks and squirms. The battle continued for probably about 45 minutes before I finally just let her turn on the damned iPad.

This child is a technology addict and I have no idea what to do about it. When Ronny came back I told him that was it, I give up. That’s when he said it. “You’re getting beat by a one-year-old.”

“At least I’m trying,” I said.

“Well, I almost had her to sleep earlier.”

“Well, la-dee-friggin’-da. Now she’s up and I’m over it.”

So I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and let the wild child loose. Now, after I’ve gone way past caring about getting her to bed at a reasonable hour, she’s up front lying on the couch with Daddy, watching a Baby Einstein DVD. Occasionally I hear a tiny yawn or a small tidbit of conversation between the two of them. It’s nice to hear, and I finally get a moment of silence.

 

Brrr. It’s cold.

We are in Half Moon Bay, in the camper and it’s 41 degrees outside. I’m under like 6 blankets and wearing two pairs of socks and a sweater, and we even have a little tiny space heater but I’m still frigging freezing. We grilled up ribeyes, cooked potatoes in the fire and tossed a salad with local organic garlic vinaigrette dressing. The only thing that could have made it any better is a glass of red. But some Snickers ice cream by the camp fire made up for that.
We spent a good part of the day at the park Ronny napped in the camper while I chased May from swing to slide to tunnel to duck pond, trying to keep her from teasing the ducks then shoving the handful of bread crumbs into her own mouth while aggressive seagulls threatened to peck out her eyeballs if she didn’t share. Then May and I went shopping around downtown Santa Cruz while Ronny putzed around with the RV. The drive up the coast to Half Moon Bay was again breathtaking, especially for the hour I spent in a lawn chair on the cliff reading a book while the other two napped (Yes, my husband does in fact take as many naps as my child.)
Anyways, here are a few pics.

Until tomorrow…

Holy Crap I Found a Signal!

A weak signal, but it’s the first time I’ve been able to connect to the Internet. Hallelujah! I’m just going to paste what I’ve written the last few days. I know NaBloPoMo is supposed to be posting every day, but I’m going to allow myself this exception. I’ve written a post every day but not had the tools to get them posted. So here they are in all their glory. I’ll try to post pictures from our trip soon.

1/6/12

Wouldn’t you know it? It’s day 6 of NaBloPoMo and I’m already unable to make a blog post. I realize that it’s already going to be pretty challenging to post every day while I’m on the road. I can post from my handy dandy iPhone, as long as I have 3G, but our first campsite, Leo Carrillo State Park, has no phone or internet, not even 3G. Normally it would be my own laziness to prevent me from posting, but alas, today the forces are against me.

I’ll post this, though, the first chance I have access to wi-fi. Or, today I took a few pics to share, so I’ll at least get those up.

Anyways, so we’re on the road again. Last time it was a 3 month journey full of lots and lots of camper problems. It’s bound to happen, I suppose, when your RV is 25 years old. Yes, it’s a 1985 Coachmen. Since the trip our Coachie has been fixed up a little. And when I say a little, I really mean a LOT. She’s had an entire facelift. And engine lift. She’s had more money put into her than she’s worth.

The last time we were on a trip in this baby we had a full-grown Lab with us. A dog really brings a whole sense of joy to a road trip. He spent the majority of the time stretched across my lap, slobbering on my legs, and keeping me warm…even across Texas where the temperature actually topped 115.

This time we have a whole new source of joy. Kodi died a year and a half ago, but this time we have Maysen with us. I can’t say she loves the ride as much as Kodi did, but it’s great to look back at her strapped into the captain’s chair, requesting her favorite “la-la”, and asking the ocean where it is. There are so many sources of joy to be tapped into on a road trip. Perhaps I’ll go into it a little more tomorrow, but for now, I need to cozy under my covers. It’s friggin’ cold here tonight.

 

1/7/12

I’m sitting in a Wal-Mart parking lot with a dead battery. Maysen is strapped into her car seat using the last drop of my battery to watch home movies on the iPhone. She’s actually watching “cookie time” over and over again because it seems to be her favorite. We’re in Arroyo Grande, it’s dark, and we’re yet to get to our camp site. The problem with doing a trip like this in January, besides the fact that it gets very, very chilly at night, is that the day ends right around 5:30pm, well before we’re settled in camp and ready for the sun to go down. Last night was so cold, and I was up all night. Miraculously, May slept the whole night through. (I gotta get me some of those fleece jammies with the feet in them!) All we’ve really done is hung out today. Nothing spectacular. We were going to check out the tidepools at Leo Carrillo, but Ronny didn’t see how to maneuver the camper…

 

1/8/12

…It’s several hours later. I think I wrote that around 7pm and it’s now 12:28 am.

What a friggin’ hassle! So, remember I said that I was sitting there with a dead battery? Well, after our battery charger thing wouldn’t work we flagged down a guy in a pickup for a jump. No dice. I called AAA. They said they’d have a guy to me within 45 minutes. Then Ronny actually went in to Wal-Mart and bought a brand new battery. Still no dice, so we figured it must not be the battery. Ronny’s thinking it’s the starter so he’s under the camper banging on stuff, getting all greasy and sweaty, and asking me to turn the key every now and then. He started to get so frustrated, and suddenly memories of our last RV trip came back to me. Oh, crappy crap. Here we go again with Mr. Grumpy McGrumperton.

After an hour and 15 minutes, I called AAA back to ask what the heck was going on. Apparently the guy who was supposed to come help us got off of work and forgot to tell the other guy, so the other guy just got the call. We had planned to take a cab to the Hampton Inn and have my parents come and pick us up tomorrow, and we were about to just leave the camper there for good.

But suddenly, just as the AAA guy FINALLY showed up, TWO HOURS into this whole ordeal, it dawned on Ronny that I might not have put the camper in Park correctly. Bingo. He pulled it into gear then back into park and the beast lit up like a charm. What a sense of relief, of course, but also so frustrating to think it was something so simple.

Apparently, because this RV was born in 1985, it’s got loose gears. So you can’t simply put it in Park like you would with any other automatic transmission. Evidently you have to actually jam it into park. Nobody ever told me this and there’s no sign indicating anything about this little idiosyncrasy. Luckily the batteries on the iPad lasted through the whole ordeal and kept Maysie busy busy busy for the entire two hours.

We finally pulled into the Oceano Campgrounds in Pismo Beach around 10:00pm. Maysie and I built a fort, read the Hug book that she’s obsessed with right now, and played blocks until I rocked her and sang her “la-la” before she finally went down about 11:00. So now, an hour and a half later, after having sat by the fire with hubby, finally relaxing, it’s time for Mommy to go to bed. Still no internet, so still no posts, but at least I’m here, right?

 

1/8/12

Wow. What a great day it was today. After last night’s near debacle today came with a renewed sense of hope and excitement for the day. We had a nice cuddly morning with Maysie, then we got up, had a light breakfast, fed the most enormous geese I’ve ever seen (I was actually a little afraid of them!) and then we got on our way. I had 3G for a while at the campsite so I was able to find a good spot in Big Sur to head toward. Only about 130 miles north, it seemed like a great destination. I said all I care about is that we get to our destination no later than 4pm. It sucks getting there after dark. The drive up the coast is spectacular, though terribly windy and narrow in spots for the RV. Gorgeous nonetheless. We stopped in Cambria for an awesome seaside picnic. Maysie was thrilled to feed the seagulls the crusts from my sandwich. She kept chasing the birds saying “Hey! Boodie, hey!” and then she’d look at me as it flew away from her, as if she flat out didn’t understand why these birds wouldn’t let her touch them. We hopped back on the road for another hour or two and finally arrived at the Big Sur Campground and Cabins. So much better than we expected. Most of the campsites that allow RV’s are really shitty. More like a parking lot than a campground. This one, however, is perfect. We’re surrounded by trees on a small cliff overlooking a slow and gentle river. The best part? There’s a playground 20 feet from the camper! Maysie’s thrilled with that, Ronny’s thrilled with the nature of it all, and I’m thrilled to have so many happy campers. Ronny grilled up turkey burgers and sausages and boiled a pot of potatoes while I made a beautiful salad with all of the organic veggies we bought at the farmers market in Santa Barbara yesterday.  Maysie had mac-n-cheese, but nibbled quite a few of the potatoes as well. We sat around the fire, alternately listening to music and the gurgling river, and when it came time, I read Maysie her bedtime stories and sang her bedtime song. The best part? As I lay her down in her bed, I kissed her and told her I love her like I do every single night. She looked at me and said, “I wuv you.” Melty, melty heart full of love and joy.

 

1/9/12

Another amazing day. I was so worried that traveling with Maysen would be really tough. I thought she’d whine and cry about being in her car seat for so long, and I thought she’d be a nightmare in the camper and at the campground. It turns out that she’s the best little camping partner ever. The first thing she said to me this morning from her pack-n-play was “Mommy, cuddle.” How can you beat that? She crawled under the covers with me and we…played with the iPad and watched DVDs. Whatevs. She took her first bath in the camper’s tub; Ronny heated up a big pot of water on the stove and we dumped into the tub. She played with her toys and bubbles and filled the camper with smiles and splashes. All I wanted to do today was go somewhere that we could go for a little hike, so after hitting the playground for a while wed ended up at Andrew Morena State Park where we took a little hiking trail to a picnic area. We all had a good time, but Maysie was almost overwhelmed with fun. The “you can’t catch me” game got her giggling like crazy until, like 12 times, she tripped over a stone and fell. Of course, after skidding on her tummy and filling her hands with dirt and gravel she cried, but she kept saying, “I sawhee” as if she had done something wrong. On the picnic grounds a huge Maple (?) tree had dumped its enormous leaves, and May got to have her first experience hearing the crunching of the leaves. She loved picking up handfuls and letting the breeze take the leaves away. Back at camp, while May slept in her car seat, Ronny chopped a bunch of wood that he had hunted down on the side of the road while I read a few chapters in my book. We built a nice fire, made a nice dinner, and now we’re ready to sit around the campfire for a while. This is one of the best trips we’ve taken, and Maysen fills even the most mundane moments with joy and excitement. You should have seen the way she was fascinated with the grass, the gravel, and the discovery of a ladybug. You should have seen the way she was fascinated with the way Daddy chopped wood and built a fire. You should have seen the way Mommy made a fantastic dinner and all she would eat was peanuts.

 

1/10/12

It wasn’t easy at all finding a place to stay tonight. Santa Cruz is, from what I know of it, a really cool little city. But it sucks for RV-ers. It took us a couple of hours, but we finally tracked down an RV park where no one answered the phone or the knock on the door. So now we’ve backed in, illegally-ish, to a spot with hookups where it seems that all of the neighbors are semi-permanent residents. Maysie was a gem again today. I think that she really likes to be on the road. She even behaved herself when we went out to eat at a restaurant in Monterey. She even sat in the stroller while I pushed her through a few shops. This trip is really a special time for our little family.  Right now, there’s no internet, and no fire, and dinner’s done. Maysie and Ronny are in the back of the camper watching Toy Story on the DVD player and I’m sitting up front reading a book (and writing this, of course). It’s so hard to explain how fun it is to have Maysen on this trip with us. We did the same trek, pretty much, two years ago when we toured the entire country, but then it was just Ronny and I. It’s an entirely different experience. When it was just the two of us we spent much more time in restaurants and bars. This time we’ve been having picnics and hanging out in the campsite and on playgrounds and little hiking trails. This time we really do stop to smell the flowers…and examine the rocks and kick the leaves and rub our hands in the dirt and marvel at how tall the trees are and let the ladybugs walk down our fingers. This time we point out the things we see around us and talk about what color they are. This time we sing a lot more songs. And Ronny has been in really good spirits this time. I really thought it was going to be an excruciating challenge filled with a lot of tantrums but boy was I wrong. This has been an amazing few days and I’m so glad we did it. I can almost justify paying out the ass for the hundreds of gallons of gas we’re blowing through.

Photo Update

A Weenie of a Post

This is going to be a weenie of a post tonight. We decided at the last minute to take a trip in the RV so for the next week or so my posts will either be coming from my phone or will happen sporadically when I have a few minutes. Don’t be expecting anything amazing from me for a few days. Hopefully we will have some pretty cool adventures on our way up the Pacific coast. Keep your fingers crossed that little May behaves herself and that hubbs and I get along. We made it three months in the camper so this should be a breeze!

Until tomorrow, make sure to catch up on our previous adventures here.

Wordless Wednesday at the San Diego Zoo

Trying to feed the tigers yogurt-covered raisins.

A family portrait.

“The Look” a.k.a. “What May does to get anything she wants from Daddy”

A joyride

A Growing Vocabulary

Every day I’m completely amazed by the things that come out of May’s mouth. Watching her and listening to her and conversing with her as she learns to speak is by far one of the most amazing motherhood experiences there is. I’ve mentioned a few of the things that she says along the way, but I was thinking last night (while I couldn’t sleep, of course) that I could probably create a dictionary of all of the things she says. She and I can be having a complete conversation, entirely understanding one another, and her daddy will look at us confused, with his head cocked like a labrador hearing a new sound.

Here are a few of the things she has said recently and their respective definitions.

“Cheekie daddy boo-boo eye bau sad” = “I’m feeling sad because Daddy hit my Chicka puppet with his golf club and the eyeball broke off, leaving my dear puppet completely debilitated.”

“Mommy am-mow poopoopeepee” = “Mommy took me to the Humane Society today to look at the animals. Poo-poo, pee-pee.”

“Chockie Baack” = “Mommy, may I have some chocolate milk, please?”

“Otay Fiiiine” = “No, I adamantly refuse to do what you’re asking.”

“La la un mone time baa baa black seep la la bitty bitty toe baa baa la la nite now” = “Let’s listen to a song one more time right now. I’d like to hear Baa Baa Black Sheep again, even though you’ve already sung it 27 times and then Itsy Bitsy Spider, the version where you use my toes instead of your fingers to do the actions. I like that one. Oh, and by the way, I know you’re making up the words to Baa Baa Black Sheep. Why don’t you just go the extra mile and look up some nursery rhymes online?”

“Au beauer” = “All better”

“Meenie poopoopeepee nite now” = “Mom, it’s diaper duty time again.”

“Poofa toowee nite now” = “Please put on Yo Gabba Gabba now.”

“Sow ohwa new one coming” = “My show is over. Put in a new DVD right now, or I’ll put in the Wiggles or Elmo’s Potty Time myself. You really don’t want that to happen now, do you?”

“Puppy boo-boo eye bau weeawy sad coco boo-boo eye bau puppy mommy fiss nite now.” = “Mommy, do you remember like two months ago when Uncle JT’s dog chewed off my favorite stuffed animal’s eyeball leaving a soggy ripped-open face with its stuffing coming out? Well, I know you tried to fix it, and I thank you for your efforts, but, really, this is not a job well done and I am really, really sad and traumatized because of the entire situation. You really need to learn the fine art of stuffed animal repair right now.”

“Pah-tohn lellow nummy Meenie I doing!” = “Wow! This yellow buttery flavored stuff you put on my popcorn is delicious! Thank you so much! I hope you don’t mind if I dump the popcorn out all over the house now. You can just keep picking it up and putting it in the bowl for me to do again, then finally give up and swear to sweep it up later, right?”

“Mommy cuh-wo pih-wo blankie” = “Mommy, let’s cuddle! I’ll get the pillow and blanket. Then, you can lie down on the kitchen floor, using a yoga block for a pillow. I’ll lay a dirty dish towel over your hips and pat you on the shoulder then walk away so I can color on my table (not my coloring book. That’s ridiculous.) Don’t even think about getting up, because I’ll lose my shit and we’ll have to start over. Get it? Got it. Good.”

I could go on and on…maybe even to a hundred to create a new meme. But that’s it for now. Gotta go sweep up little popcorn piles.