First full-tfeature movie in the theater! Yeah!

The Princess and the Frog.
A friend on Facebook talked of her 4year old loving this movie in the theater this past week. After commenting that we aren't ready for theaters yet, this same friend persuaded me to try. Apparently her kid had gone to her first theater movie when she was younger than Evie. She reminded me that all the kids wiggle & writhe during the film... so we wouldn't be standing out in the crowd.
So, I told Rob we were going to go see the latest acclaimed Disney flik.
Rob was torn between wanting to share the experience and wanting to pull out his eyeballs at the sheer thought of attending this film.
Rob and I hate Disney. OK, maybe not all Disney ... just the ultra-conservative bullsh*t parts (which is most of it in recent decades). I also never liked princesses and do not even know the entire story of some hits like "Sleeping Beauty"... I hated Little Mermaid (lame) and I think Beauty and the Beast is contrived. Yet, my daughter, freaking LOVES Princesses lately.
I personally enjoyed Alladin (funny! I know there's a princess element but I liked the Genie), The Fox and the Hound (best friends! Sad ending.... sniff) and Mary Poppins (she's Disney, right? Who knows...)... but never the princess movies.
But if Evie is going to experience her first movie it might as well be a stereo-typical start (cartoon full-feature) and one about princesses to boot.
We raced to make the matinee and asked a mom/daughter to scoot over to make room for us. It was packed. We plopped Evie in between us only to quickly realize... the seat folded-in on her. This heavy kid is too light for theater seats. So, plop, on my lap she goes... and there she sat nearly the whole movie.
We shared a medium popcorn (more like Evie let us have some bites throughout her feeding frenzy) and we shared a coke (I snuck in a sippy-cup of juice for her but she snuck sips of coke where she could).
The last 20 minutes was a struggle. It was that part of any movie where things are starting to get resolved but they also momentarily drag on with bouts of quiet and sad longing... then blam! The movie picks up... Evie has finally relaxed & stopped squirming and is holding my hand (I think she was actually starting to konk out)... and then its over.
Evie's reviews: "I lika da movie. Yeah! Hoffcorn (popcorn)! Frogs. Princess. Hoffcorn."

Tacky Lights Tour

We took my parents to one of the more ridiculously decorated houses in the greater Richmond area this past weekend...

Christmas with the family (Lucy)

OK, so the timing of my posts is off...
but here's Evie with her princess dress on and loving up baby Lucy as we get ready to sit and eat our Christmas bacon-wrapped turkey (yes, that's right. I said "bacon-wrapped." 3lbs of woven pork blanketted atop a nice 13lb turkey so he doesn't get cold while he simmers in the oven). Yes, it was good.

Shut up, shut up, S-H-U-T UP!

I know, I know... Every old person (and yes, you are OLD when you have kids over 18 and you tell people with kids under 5 years of age phrases that begin with, "You think its bad now, just wait until...[fill in blank]"
1. ...they start crawling
2. ...they start walking
3. ...they start talking
4. ...they can get on the internet
5. ...they want video games
6. ...they drive
7. ...they're a teenager
8. ...they join their first gang
OK, whatever.

Point is, yes, yes, yes.... we couldn't wait for her to speak. What an anomaly, parents who want to hear their mute child speak.
It was SO CUTE how she said "mommy" in this helium-induced, nasal-clogged, squeaky voice. It was freaking ADORABLE when she learned how to sing her ABCs. It was AWESOME when she said "Wow!" over everything exciting (and many not-so-exciting things).
But enough is enough now.

The constant repetition of a phrase, question or single lyric to a song while she watches with SHEER GLEE at the slow downfall of my faculties is obnoxious (not to mention borderline sick. I mean, c'mon. This kid is like a Chinese water torture and she EVELS in the joy of it all!). I feel like the The Cask of Amontillado,... in my own head!

I can now see why people my age prefer to dine alone. With no one to talk to. And they are completely content with that.

out! out! damned spot!

So my period has taken f-o-r-e-v-e-r to make landfall this month. What am I.. like... day 36. Erg. I really did try to not consult a calendar for TTC #2. I did *know* when we should have been trying. I remember it very well. We were at my parents and after having gotten caught on the first attempt, forget about it. Plus its my parents... not exactly sexy, unstressful or inspiring.
But that's not really my frustration with this late delivery date...
No idea why its taken so long to arrive but its here and if I now count the days ahead - F*CK IT if it shouldn't come again right smack, dab in the middle of our trip to Maui. GOD HATES ME (as my incredibly pessimistic and irratating father would yell with clenched fists at the heavens).
I did find a fresh pill pack in the very back of the medicine cabinet. Thank you, thank you, self, for having the foresight to stop taking your BC pills after having purchased one last pack. I feel like a nicotene addict who discovered one last drag in old coat pocket...
I am now counting the days on the calendar and working my way backward to figure out when to start pill-popping to achieve my desired effect. Can I get this period to hurry-up now that its so late... rush it along and get in one more cycle before we leave? We shall see, we shall see...

How quickly my inner-Martha fades...

I began this blog with enthusiasm. The thought of capturing all the major (and many, many of the not-so-major) milestones in Evie's life absolutely inspired me. I was going to be the mom of the 21st century... logging countless pregnancy moments & thoughts, multiple baby firsts and keeping all those precious little tidbits for all of posterity (and for the whole world!) to enjoy..
Meh. Your kid turns 2 and then... fahget-about it.
I am now the mom of a 2.5 year old (well, TECHNICALLY she isn't 2.5years until 4 days from now) and I can seriously say I am an older, wiser mom. I can now reflect on those *eager* days of doing everything (of being the bast damned supermom this world has ever known!) with a giggle as I watch my other, more recent mom friends attempt similar feats with their young'uns. Oh how funny we must all look as our own mothers look on at us. Our mothers who set-out to keep detailed baby books, keep organized photograph albums, video tape every recital and keep all those A+ school papers. They, too, eventually fizzled out... and we later lamented about it when we then got married and talked about how "we aren't going to fizzle out on our kids!"
I know my mother would be biting her lip till it bled if she actually got on the internet and read this. I could see her enthusiastic nod in my mind...
Some of my mom friends never set the bar as high as I did and we all eventually even out with them realizing maybe they should keep this or that cause the memories will fade... while I learn to not be compelled to take a photo of Evie each and every time she is on a swing (I mean, 3 days in a row can really prove to be captured moment enough). We all eventually settle into a comfortable groove of what is important (ok, so organic milk might stay on the menu for some but organic Oreo's is ridiculous.... washing clothes in baby soap can be skipped and so can washing out the tub before each and every bath.... and the food on the floor probably is OK cause she's FINALLY EATING SOMETHING, right?).
I did put down the baby book when Evie hit 1 year old. enough was enough. Evie's baby book is not nearly as detailed as mine was (only child here) but I thought it was more important to have a fairly complete book as the standard so if we have another kid... I don't make myself crazy with trying to keep up with 2 kids while maintaining baby book #2. I hear too many stories from the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th kid from larger families who all got the shaft on a baby book since mom had zero time to maintain when when he/she came into this world...
I also never did a photo album. Who looks at those anymore? This is the digital age, kid. I don't remember my mom making me relive her childhood memories with the old brownie camera days so why make my kid live my childhood of limited 24 pics to a roll kodak film? Its all on disc, baby.
I'm also now finally cutting myself some slack on this blog. I mean, I'm not a terrible mother for not writing it all down, right? The way Evie says "Muhrie Crimas!" instead of "Merry Christmas!" or how she says,"Aw, man!" perfectly when something doesn't go quite right. Its OK that I am not cataloging everything anymore, right? It just means I'm enjoying them more... I think. there's something to be said about living in the moment, too. and maybe that's something else the mothers of older kids are eagerly nodding their heads and biting their tongues over, too, as I evolve and get to realize this now after 2.5 years...

Christmas-time with neighbors

Our next-door neighbors really are great. A married later-in-life couple that have no kids... he's in his 60's and her in her 50's. They both work, work HARD on up-keeping their house and work hard taking care of their elderly parents who live nearby. They are the kind of neighbors you can be catty with, stop over completely uninvited to ask for a favor and the kin our have every single tool imaginable that we've borrowed at least twice.
They asked us to stop over this week because the husband had "bought something for Evie this past summer and it was impossible to wrap."
My interests are peaked.
We swung over at 7PM, already a potentially disastrous hour given the very nature of Evie having uncontrollable energy at/around 7:30PM until she collapsed at 8PM.
Tonight was no different.

After Evie began spinning on her back on the kitchen floor, it was time to give her her present.
A life-sized (well, life sized to a toddler!) stuffed pony that made clipclop noises on the chip in its ear.
OK, yes, I teared up. I mean, my God... who the hell does such a nice thing for a freaking neighbor. Talk about your generosity during the seasons. That was way too nice.
My watery eyes came to a quick halt as Evie (instead of saying "WOW!" like we had prepped her to say) vehemently defied touching it. She marched through the house and wouldn't even look at it. Dear God how being the parent of a 2-year-old is both a humbling & mortifying experience.
Rob and I explained away her rude behavior as her being tired, her being too hyper, her just being 2... all of the above being true. The neighbors understood and laughed.
Evie would eventually sit on the horse, grasp his neck and pretend to ride him (phew!) but the moment was later truncated by her then spinning on the kitchen floor, on her back, legs spread eagle announcing "I fart" as she patted her butt.

Caught!

We are currently at my parents' house (in NC) and will be here through the weekend. We typically drive in at night thinking Evie would sleep, the traffic would be light and the time I'd have to request off from work would be minimal.
We rolled in last night around 9PM.
Evie did sleep on the trip but posed a bit of a problem when we got here. Once up, and in a foreign place, it can be scary to fall asleep again... alone... in a wierd room. After many frustrated tears and crying, she was out by 10PM and she flailed around till 10:30PM. Finally - we could go to bed now, too. And, although it wasn't that late... a full day at work and a road trip with a dog & a toddler can wear the most energized of parents OUT.
So into bed we rolled. And, to be blunt, randiness was to be had.
Hey, we are old, tired parents but we aren't dead.
And, I know this is Evie's baby blog but since this act typically leads to babies ...it seems fitting that I profess my utter horror and humiliation that my father... caught us. I know, I know. Mortified.
The door was closed (which is more fore-thought than I can say from some of my more stupid dating days) and we heard a soft *knock* *knock* on the door. I thought he'd take the hint and go away when the light rapping was met with our profound SILENCE. *knock* *knock* louder.
We must have not heard him, right?
Still silence on our end as we decided to start looking for articles to save our modesty.
*knock* *knock* *knock* Yes, surely they will hear knocks in threes.
Ok, he isn't going away and he WILL be coming in if we don't respond. "Yes?"
Door opens. Our eyes peek over the covers.
"I need my nasal spray [hand pokes in from the door crack, grabs a bottle off the nearest dresser and disappears. Door closes. End scene.]"
*sigh*
How should one feel when caught, while married, in the parental homestead?

Happy Day, Duncan!

3 years old!