Thankful Thursday

This Thursday I am thankful for:

• Tomato and feta salad - I've had it three times since Saturday and could still eat more.
• A husband who does the majority of the driving and doesn't hold it against me when I get tired after 2.5 hours behind the wheel, even if he has already logged six.
• Neighbors who are genuinely excited to see us after vacation.
• Friends who share excellent bottles of wine and welcome us into their home with graciousness and humor.
• Having my mom and aunt in town - my weeds should be gone in no time.
• Finally have HD TV installed - correctly.
• My light weight summer down comforter. I sleep so wonderfully with it.
• Iced coffee - it's delicious and it reminds me of vacation and my friends.
• Having a daughter who openly adores her Gramma and a Gramma who dotes on my daughter.
• My new sewing machine - I plan to make Andy all his clothes from here on out.
• Knowing that this time next week I'll be headed to a bachelorette weekend of fun.

Vacay

Eleven nights.

We escaped Cincinnati for eleven nights.

We frolicked at the beach. Laughing with friends and family. Drinking so many Corona Lites that the lime gave us heart burn. We feasted on shrimp, fish tacos, shrimp tacos, Carolina clam chowder, crab cakes, more shrimp, tuna and anything else we could get our hands on from the sea.

Horseshoes were played. Beach reading was done. Sunblock was applied and reapplied. Baby turtles were spotted and relaxation was achieved.

But we weren't ready to go home.

Home to laundry and bills and an overgrown lawn? No thanks.

We were feeling greedy and grabbed a few more days of vacation in Washington D.C. There we stayed with dear friends that we see far too little of. We drank their good (scratch that extremely good) wine. We feasted on steak and tuna and king crab legs. We laughed and played dominoes. We explored the city and munched on delicious burgers at Good Stuff Eatery, a former Top Chef contestant's burger joint. We toured the Capitol and traipsed around the hot, confusing city.

Addie requested that we go into the White House "just to say Hi to Baaawraaak, Mama".

Yesterday we loaded our well-vacationed butts back into the car and started the long trek home to the Heart of it All. In all fairness, my rock star husband did 99 percent of the driving. My sweet daughter was super well behaved, and yet it still was a super long day in the car.

So now we are back to our overgrown lawn, laundry and bills. The car hasn't been unpacked. Addie has taken out every toy that she was without over our vacation and the cat has not stopped meowing.

But our vacation continues - in a few hours Gramma Kathy and Aunt Ruthie will be here.

Maybe they'll unpack for me.

Thursday

Wednesday

Tuesday

Beach. Lunch. Margaritas.

And Later on Monday

After she fell off the bed and bloodied her lip....aaaah, vacation.

Monday

Sunday

Saturday

Thankful Thursdays

What am I thankful for this Thursday?

• Clean sheets - for all the beds. Even though clean sheets means I did a ton of laundry.


• Having the weed whacker back - even though it makes my hands go numb.


• Nine folded towels - four of which are earmarked for the beach.


• Being 90 percent packed - although there is still tons to do.


• Finally finding a life jacket for Miss Thang - and then finding the same one at Target for $7 cheaper.


• Knowing that Top Chef always reruns so that I can catch up if kiddo's bedtime runs over.


• Friends who come over bearing nice bottles of Pinot Grigio and Rose.


• Anticipating a lot of laughter for the next 11ish days.


• Getting beautiful flowers for my wedding anniversary - even if they weren't from my wonderful husband (thanks Mom!).

Moments

A few moments over the past day or two:

• Yesterday, as Andy checked to make sure he had golf balls for vacations she said: Why you got balls Daddy? I may have let a little snort of laughter escape.


• Last night as I paid for dinner and they headed to the car I snidely told Addie I was staying behind to drink a couple of beers. She then repeatedly told Andy Mama's gonna have couple more beers Daddy. Just a couple more beers. Note to self: Three-year-olds don't do sarcasm.


• Her suitcase is packed to the brim with beachwear - she informed Andy and I last night she's gonna take it to the beach and then to A-cago (Chicago) and to Gramma Kathy's -but she's far, far away.


• Today, at exercise, I firmly told her to eat her blueberries and she replied, with her hands on her hips, Okay! Okay already. Don't rush me - I doing it Mommy! I had to walk away.


• This evening I mowed our front and side lawns (a horrid, thankless job) and she dutifully followed safely behind me pushing her bubble mower. Each time we'd pass each other she'd give me a thumbs up and shout Good job Mama! Way to go! And then we would high five.


• After mowing, as I used the blower to get the grass clippings off the driveway and sidewalks, I turned around to be greeted by a buck naked little girl giggling and shouting I ready for my shower. I super big time stinky Mommy.

She's a mishmash of laughter and frustration - and as much as I complain, I wouldn't have it any other way.

This week is all about getting ready for some quality beach time.

I've been paying bills (Holy crap! How are our bills this big??), doing endless laundry (seriously for a family of three we create a lot of dirty clothes), cleaning (which never seems done, perhaps due to my helper) and organizing (which nothing seems to stay that way, perhaps due to my helper).

I have a list a mile long of things not to forget: Towels, sunscreen, beach toys. Dresses, hair bows, books, movies. Motrin, thermometer, cough medicine. Detangler spray, princess undies, bathing suits.
Yes, the mile long list is just for the three year old. Mine and Andy's list looks like this: Clothes. Sunscreen. Toiletries.

In an attempt to get ahead of the game, yesterday I packed up a bag of beach toys, sunscreen, beer cozies and aloe. I packed a second back of bubbles.
Yes, an entire reusable grocery bag of bubbles.

Today as I reviewed my list, and prepared to start packing up Addie's bag, she got to work unpacking the bags I had organized yesterday. I asked her to stop, which was totally futile. These days if I say no, she has more determination to do whatever she wishes.
Feeling resigned, I turned back to my list.

A minute or so of silence passed and then she walked over to me with a bottle of Coppertone shoved into Andy's UNC beer cozy and said "Here Mama, I got you a beer. Drink it". Being that it was 10:30 a.m. I was a little concerned by her 'peer pressure'. And also by the fact that she knew exactly what to with a beer cozy.

I was moderately mortified, until a second later she snatched my sunscreen beer from me, walked over to the cat and said "Here Mich, I got you Daddy's beer. Drink it".

Ha.

Shorts

One of the biggest struggles around these parts lately has been bed time - again.

Addie wants to be part of the party (the party usually consists of her Dad and I dozing off in front of the TV). She sneaks down and sits on the bottom step or silently plays in the dining room. Occasionally, the cat meows to tattle on her. More often than not we just sense her presence downstairs - that and she runs from her room down the hall like a herd of elephants.

After taking away toys and books and bedtime stories, we had to really get serious. Andy's genius idea? Take away her dresses. And her skirts. ALL of them. The result? Addie has to wear shorts (insert dreaded shriek here).

Shorts, according to my darling one, are the devil's creation. You can't twirl in shorts. You can't spin and be beautiful in shorts.



Shorts bite and are mean.



Inevitably the morning after the dresses are confiscated I deal with sobbing and crying and screaming and pleading. Puhleaaasssse, Mama. No shorts. I no like shorts. Mama a dress puhleaaasssse. I wanna twirl. Puhleaaasssse! Princesses don't wear shorts MAMA!





What she doesn't seem to get is that she can twirl in shorts. That she is a princess no matter what she wears.

And that, darn it, the kid looks cute in shorts.

Thankful Thursdays

What am I thankful for this Thursday?

• Having finally made it to the grocery - meaning I could have a fresh pot of coffee this morning with half and half.
• Participating in swim lessons with Addie. At times they are hard and painful, but this afternoon she bobbed underwater several times and came up smiling.
• Looking, tan-wise, as thought I've already spent a week at the beach, when in reality my beach week is still nine days away.
• Being only nine days a way from week filled with sand, surf, sun and friendship.
• Blueberries pints on sale 10 for $10 (thank you Kroger).
• That my wedding anniversary, and therefore a fancy dinner out downtown, is only two days away.
• That my husband's phone cut out this morning as he informed me that he went to dinner at my favorite restaurant in Chicago last night - without me.
• Friends with families that have pools who invite us to tag along.
• To have survived the first two days of Three - only 363 more to go.
  

Tuckered out after a day of swim lessons and playing in the pool with her bud Nicholas.

How Sweet It Was

Over the past year there were moments that I thought I experienced the so-called terrible twos. There were tantrums and testing. Tears and screaming.

Those were moments.

I have discovered that my version of the terrible twos was a cake walk. It was rainbows and daisies and fluffy bunnies. I didn't know it then, but the twos were a dream.

We are one solid day into the threes and I am getting a little worried.
She is sassy to say the least. She says things about my 'big old butt' and points out my moles, freckles, zits. She has some catch phrases, that are about to push me right off the reservation.

• One minute! (Huff)
• OKAY! I said ENOUGH! (Huff)
• Fine, I'll DO IT! Gimme a minute. (Huff)
• I don't want to! NO THANK YOU! (Huff)
• I told you I DID. I told you. (Huuuuuufffff)

Most of this is said with rolling eyes or hands on the hips or stomps. Occasionally, an index finger is wagged in my general direction.

I swear, you can see the attitude swirling above her head.

Bedtime is a nightmare - she has been getting up, several times a week, multiple times a night. For a run to the potty, for a tissue, to check on the cat. Twice in the past week or so we've found her sound asleep on the stairs and under a blanket in the middle of the kitchen floor.

We've taken away stuffed animals, privileges and so on - thus far the only thing that is effective in keeping her arse in bed is to take away her dresses. All of them. You know you are the mother of a princess when the only fate worse than death is having to wear shorts.

For the record, tomorrow she's wearing shorts.

One day in and it's all defiance and testing and sassiness and volume. Those 'terrible twos'? I miss them. I mourn them. And now I face what appears to be the terrifying threes.

Pass the wine please.

And then she was 3

On Saturday my house was full of princesses.

The princess cake. The new princess chair, umbrella and doll set. There were no less than four tutus. There was one pair of fairy wings. There were dresses and skirts and frilliness. There were games and hugs and squeals.

It was her third birthday party. And she felt oh-so big and oh-so grown and all I could think was "My heavens, how has it been three years?".

How is it possible that three years ago I was holding my belly, gladly accepting an epidural and holding Andy's hand, waiting it for IT ALL to happen. Out she came and she was squishy and cute (the kind of post-birth cute that only a parent can see). She stretched and squirmed and showed us the capacity of her lungs.

She was perfect.
Or so I thought.

And then I watched her grow.
And I learned how to be a parent and continued to be in awe of her worldly girliness.
Her perfection is endless....

She has shown me how to be silly. And blindly trusting. She has taught me how to harness more patience than I even knew the universe had. She prances. And twirls and runs too fast. She is all sass and already knows way more than I do, or so she tells me.

Her imagination is endless. Sometimes she's the princess and I'm the queen. Once in awhile she's Cinderella and I'm the not-nice StepMother. Occasionally she's the fairy godmother and I am turned into a horse. Sometimes I am the one-eyed-monster and she is the witch. Or she is a kittycat and I am turtle.
She loves to chat on the phone - with Gramma Kathy, with Daddy, with her imaginary friends' parents and with Ry.
She has opinions on how things are done. How to fold the laundry, load the dishwasher, spread peanut butter on her bagel. She knows red, green and yellow and is the world's most vocal backstreet driver.

She can go to the potty and wash her hands all by herself. She still likes to take a bath, but thinks that showers are super grown up. She loves to set the table and help Daddy at the grill. She knows how to pick up, but doesn't always choose to.

She adores her family. She loves to talk to them and about them. She loves those who are in her backyard and those that are miles away.
She worships her Daddy - fiercely. She respects him and adores him and tests his limits. They are each others' best stinkopotomuses. And they make my cup runneth over.

She has friends. Friends who watch out for her, who care for her and who make her world better. Many of her friends are boys : Max, Jake, Joshie, Nicholas, Harrison, Evan. But she thinks girls are awesome too: Elise, Maggie, Marissa, Maddie (there's a few Maddies), Baby Sam.
She shares (for the most part) and loves to have play dates.

She loves to sing, loudly, off tune.
She likes to pretend and dance and play hide.
She begs to be pushed higher in the swing and loves to help in the garden.
She makes sure the cat is fed and the birdies have food.
She loves to dance and twirl and leap.
She likes peanut butter, strawberries, mushrooms, asparagus and all things princess.
She begs for ice cream and milkshakes and sweet treats.
She makes sure to look both ways before crossing the street.

She is brave and adventurous, but once in awhile hides behind my knees.
She still silently reaches for my hand a thousand times a day.
In the morning kisses and cuddles are always on the agenda.
After a nap her favorite place is still my lap.

She is three.
And she won't promise to stop growing, but she does promise to always be my baby.

Happy third birthday little bean....Wow.