While Mom's away, Hilarity will play

The recently-shorn, flea-less Urinator

The Spitfire and I generally go hand-in-hand. We have been apart from each other for no more than 8 hours at a time since she was born 18 months ago. And that 8 hour stretch only happened once.

It was time to get a break. Believe you me.

I've been getting more and more involved in the family business for the last few months as I've felt that I could leave the kiddos mildly less attended at times. Sure, I'd have to leave TS strapped in her high chair watching Cars or Finding Nemo in order to get anything done, but sometimes extreme measures are necessary in order to stay sane. 

I ventured up to a Kindergarten teachers' conference in NorCal to spread the word about a couple of our educational products. I won't bore you with the details of the conference other than to say that it went amazingly well, I had a blast reconnecting with some old friends, and that Kindergarten teachers are some of the most amazing people on the planet! 

As for the domestic side of things, it was quite the experience leaving TS and The Dynamo at home with The Artist for 4 solid days. 

I'd been on the road for about 3 hours when I got a text from TA. "TD's doing the dishes. She says that since you're gone, she gets to be the mommy." AWWWW!! My kids are awesome.

Phone conversation 20 minutes later with TD:

TD: "Hi, Mommy! Guess what! I did the dishes all by myself!"

Yours Truly: "That's great! Daddy said that you're being the mommy while I'm gone!"

TD: (Read with overwhelming enthusiasm:) "YEEEEAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!"

A minute later: "Um, Mommy? I'm a little bit concerned."

YT: (uh oh): "Oh, really? Why's that?"

TD: "TS is drawing on your computer screen again with a pencil."

YT: "Well, maybe you should go tell Daddy."

Pause.

TD: "No, I don't think so."

YT: "Well, why not?"

TD: "I don't really feel like it."

Yup, I had no way to contact TA because TD had his cell phone. Lovely. Flash forward to 10 minutes later.

YT: "How're things going?"

TA: "Good! We're just..."

Lots of muffled yelling and crying.

YT: "Why don't you call me back in a few."

A few minutes later.

TA: "Well, one of your daughters drew all over your computer screen with a pencil, and the other decided to wash it of with a sopping wet sponge."

Lovely. In TD's defense, she was aware that I'd washed off of my computer screen the last time that TS had drawn all over it with a pencil. What she didn't know was that "washed it off" had consisted of a microfiber cloth with just a tad bit of water on it. Not a sponge. Poor little thing got in trouble for doing her best to be the mommy.

Later that day I got this text: "I was just informed that borax tastes good."

Luckily, I was traveling with a pediatrician. Who informed me that borax is probably caustic and should burn pretty horribly going down. Enter the following phone conversation:

YT: "What on earth happened? The borax is in the far back of the cupboard with a big lock on it!"

TA: "Apparently TD has been eating the borax you put into the carpet the other day to kill fleas."

She's almost 5. You'd think she'd know better than to try and eat a mysterious powder I'd spread all over the floor in order to kill something. (You want to see me go all OCD on our floors? Show me a flea. Just one. We are now officially flealess.)

So why did I laugh hysterically when he said that? 

I'd decided at the last minute to use salt instead of borax, for the very reason that my children are completely unpredictable like that. The only other weird mishap that day was TS drinking out of The Urinator's bowl. 

The next two days apparently went by without a hitch. TA cleaned the house from top to bottom, fixed the central vac, scrubbed both cars, and even managed to feed the kids and walk the dog. No one missed me. I was feeling a bit irrelevant.

Then the stomach flu hit.

Yup. TD was up all night with the stomach flu, managing to hit 3 beds dead on, a few bathrooms, and many a trash can. 

Yesterday was a bit crazy for everyone (myself included - 5 1/2 hours of the show and then an 8 hour drive home). At one point I got a call from TA announcing how busy TS is and how you can't look away from her for 5 seconds. She had managed to destroy a box of tissues, a roll of toilet paper, and a box of wipes in record time. Amazing, considering that she doesn't usually have access to any of those. And she drew on the computer screen again.

Relevancy reinstated. 

You Might Be a Toddler If...

 

The Spitfire's transformation from baby to toddler was explosive, and I ain't just talkin' diapers. Holy cr@p, that kid is insane. In honor of her brazen transformation, I've compiled a list of goings on at our house of late as a result.

You might be a toddler if...

...the daily survival rate of your clothes is inversely proportional to X, if X = clothing cleanliness x clothing cost. This equation is equally valid for preschoolers.

I just ate glitter.

...you are convinced that the tall, white, rectangular box in the kitchen is the perfect place to store important objects, such as keys, shoes, and your sweater. And your hands right before a meal.

...the main rule of your favorite game is to scream suddenly and unexpectedly throughout the day, and the ultimate prize is to destroy the nerves of your caretaker, thereby getting her to start screaming hysterically as well.

...you think that the words "TIME OUT!" mean "keep doing what you're doing, only laugh hysterically at the same time."

One of the safer favorite toys

...you are well aware that flinging food off of your tray is the best way to ensure a snack later on.

Lovely. Another bath.

...your grandparents, who love you very, very much, aren't so sure that they can watch you for more than a few minutes as there's a good chance you will severely injure yourself.

...you're learning better how to communicate every day. You know that "MEEHH!!!" means "MINE!" "I WANT IT!" and "MORE!"; that the animals that communicate with "GRRRR!" and "RAWR!" are the coolest and must be mimicked constantly; and that high-pitched screams are the best way to get what you want.

"MEEHH!!"

...you finally figured out that "NO!" means "climb higher!" "do it faster!" and "run away quickly!"

...the best way to introduce yourself to a fellow toddler is to smack them in the face.

...any and all "balls" (roundish objects) belong to you, even ones made of glass, and all must be thrown.

"MEEHH!! Don't even think about it!"

...you get hit in the head by a large toy car point blank and quietly glare at the child who did it, just after you screamed your head off when your caretaker set you down.

Refueling before the next battle

...you've learned that you can get away with anything because you love snuggling up with your mommy to read books at the end of the day. And Mommy's a sucker.

Teacup Baby

Not to brag (that's a lie - I want to brag), but the Spitfire is so adorable that strangers are always coming up to me and telling me what a good job I did making her. True story.*
*I know you're already annoyed with me. But I don't particularly care. Sorry.

She's even adorable when she's exhibiting her newfound talent of tantrum throwing. Loud screech, throw back head, twist body, and fling arms around, smacking everything in reaching distance. She also has another newfound talent - cupboard excavation:

You have to understand how deceptive her looks are. She's hovered in the single percentile digits for height and weight her entire life. To see such a little bundle be so destructive can be disconcerting for some, so hopefully the above photo didn't send anyone into a coma of confusion.

A few more thoughts and photos to round out my homage to TS in anticipation of her first birthday next week. First up, her love of food. Our "teacup baby" (as The Artist calls her) can eat a baby twice her size under the table.

Wow, that statement evoked a very different image than what I intended. Let's try that again.

TS can easily eat twice as much food as a 99th percentile baby and in less time. She's a pig. Favorites? Strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, carrots, peanut butter, sweet potato, avocado... Pretty much anything she can get into her mouth. Except egg and squash. She'll eat dog food (and she has - ew!), but she won't eat squash. I wouldn't be surprised if she were winning hot dog eating contests someday (though I would be disgusted).

Happiness is a messy, pint-sized Spitfire

All that food brings us to one of her next favorite things to do:

The high chair nap is a favorite.  If she's in her crib, she'll take a couple of 2-3 hour naps a day. If she's anywhere else (except her high chair), she'll take zero. Vacations (what-cations?) are not a good idea with this one.

As I've previously shown you, TS LOVES the beach. She's such a water baby who happens to also like the taste of sand. Especially when her daddy is in charge of her.

Next favorite place? The park. But only if she gets a turn in the swings. Swings = baby happy place.

TS has an overdeveloped sense of stranger danger. She generally likes people, so long as she can like them from the safety of her Mama's arms. However, she does have a list of people whose arms she'll leap into when she sees them: Gramma, Nana, Grampa, aunts & uncles (most - won't mention the no-gos for everyone's sake), the occasional big, strange man (not good), and especially Papa. She's a big-time Papa's girl.

She's an even bigger sister girl. The Dynamo can get this kid from zero to hysterical laughter in no time flat. I love it so much. I hope that this lasts well into the "hey-she's-wearing-my-jeans-again-without-asking" phase. Wishful thinking?

And, to finish us off:

This photo is representative of my experience parenting: I have no idea what's going on here.

Mustachio

Don't worry - it's on its way in

This morning, I woke up to The Spitfire doing just that. Barfing all over my chest and hair. Which got me to thinking: I haven't done a blog post in awhile.

I actually almost wrote one about the butterflies we metamorphosized, but the big fancy photos were frustrating the H3!! out of me so, alas, that post is going to be lost to time. And I've decided that it's going to be iPhone photos from here on out.

The last few weeks have been a chaotic blur. Honestly, all I really remember is a tornado raging around me with a lot of noise, sand, body fluids, and laundry littering the air all about. Most notably, we've had about 15 relatives (broken up into 3 distinct groups) in town, maybe 4-5 trips to the beach, a baby with a temperature hovering between 102 and 105 for 3 days (it has since settled down into a beautiful, full-body roseola rash), a solo (me and 2 small children ALONE) trip to Disneyland where we got to go on the new Little Mermaid ride before it was open to the general public, The Dynamo hitting up Legoland TWICE, a couple of pool parties at our house, Wacky Tacky day at preschool (see photo), and laundry (I'm averaging 11 loads per week).

She picked her own outfit. No playing in the World Cup for her.

Cousin pile!

And I sewed an awesome yoga mat bag for my SiL for her birthday. I should Etsy those things. Nope!

Mustachio cupcakes for SiL's bday. Guess what flavor.

The Artist donning his Mustachio.

My favorite memories of the past couple of weeks, however, involve my adorable daughters giggling. Even when The Spitfire is horribly sick, The Dynamo can really get her going (typically right before TS barfs everywhere). For example, in the car on the way back from Disneyland (again, I'd like to emphasize that I was by myself with two small children), TD was repeatedly hitting herself and TS with a plastic cup resulting in bouts of laughter like nothing I've ever heard before. Good thing, too, because everyone was beyond exhausted and, to be honest, I was expecting screaming the entire way home.

Not that particular day, but it gives you an idea of how tired we were leaving Disneyland

I'm going to end on that happy note because the smell of The Urinator is starting to singe my nostrils.