This is about all I can say about today.

Mail

Addison loves to get mail. Needless to say the holidays were a huge hit with her - she got to open cards and packages and ninety percent of them were actually hers. She tears into mail with enthusiasm and sense of reverence. And no matter what she opens, our dental benefits explanation or a card with a picture of a kitty, she loves it.

Mama, I love it. I love it, I love mail.

As the holiday influx tapered off, she became a bit perplexed and a little blue. There were no more cards. No more pictures of people she didn't know, no more snowmen or Santas, no more colorful envelopes to destroy.

Mail is now just mail - bills, benefit statements, unwanted solicitations, useless catalogs.

She still opens them with gusto, but is always a tad disappointed.

That is until last week when a big enveloped arrived. Addressed to her.

With fancy writing.

A package from Paris.

Addie tore it open. She twirled in the dress, she put the finger puppet right on, she begged me to open the 108 piece mini-puzzle (Uh, FGM Kate, don't you dare send a 108 piece mini-puzzle our way again).

She beamed.

And then she said Mama, this from FairGotMutta Kate. From Eiffle Tower. Bippy bippy boo. I LOVE FairGotMutta Kate, Mama.

Two Two Ca Choo

This is one of those posts that she'll hate me for. But right now, I don't care. I'm excited...and proud...and kind of happy to have an excuse to talk about poop.

This morning around 7:20 she knocked on my door, holding on to her stuffed friends, smiling. I shooed her to her bathroom for a morning pee. Pee done, hands washed, bare bottom under her pjs.

We headed down stairs for milk and play and coloring. I was working on an email begging my girlfriends in Chicago, New York and North Carolina to join me for a weekend of girl debauchery. As I hit send I realized it was awfully quiet on the first floor. I called Addie's name - no response.

I called it again and she answered. I asked "What are you doing?" and she replied "I on my potty mommy". And by god, she was. And she was pooping.

She looked up at me and said "Pri-va-ceeee please" - I gave it to her.

And she, at long last, achieved the highly coveted Poo on the Pot.

She is being rewarded with getting to borrow Beauty and the Beast from our neighbor (trust me, the first sentence out of her mouth was Mama, call Mrs. _________ I see Bleauty and da Beast).

I know our potty training journey is not over. I know that there will be accidents and frustration and backward steps along the way, but we are definitely going the right direction.

I am happy, yes. But she? She is elated.

Random

1. We have broken up with diapers. I have decided to stock my purse with clean undies and fresh pairs of pants and a boatload of understanding.

2. Yesterday Addie had one accident all day. Today she had one in the middle of JoAnn Fabrics by 9 a.m. One container of understanding used.

3. Potty training can make you a complete and total lunatic, not that I need help in that department.

4. Addison talks a mile a minute these days and has a terrifyingly accurate memory. She can recall things from months ago - like she saw a dinosaur with Gramma Kathy, or ate apple pie with Uncle Jeaf, or that Papa has two kitties, or that she wants a blue house at the beach.

5. Even though she talks a ton, her words sometimes still need deciphering - in the car she often says to me "Mama, my mucus, please. Loud!". She frequently asks me if she can use "big girl kizors" to glue and cut, and inevitably she'll say "No cut hair, Mama, just paper".

6. I know that I have never been a particularly patient person, but these days I think I have moments of pure irrationality. Today I could barely stand the other kids at storytime, or the storyteller (Uh, could you be quiet and listen to the book please? Uh, could show the pictures while you read? - the toddlers are getting restless). I found myself wanting to smack the cashier at Meijer (Really, Frank, I need to find the UPC code for you? Is it that hard?) and every driver on the road was an idiot. I, of course, was a perfect example of smart, safe driving.

7. We are going out for burgers tonight at Zip's Cafe. Zip's is considered to have the best cheeseburger and best onion rings in town. I know I am on a low-carb diet - I don't need to be reminded. I have been behaving for the past 3ish days so that I can indulge in these supposed delicacies. I might top it off with a fancy beer.

8. We have started visiting preschools for next year's enrollment - how is it possible that she is that old?

Hope For Tomorrow

It's true, tomorrow is always another day.
And in my case, it wasn't just another day - it was a better day. A wonderful day.

Today was not marked with threats or raised voices. I did not get hit, spit on or kicked. I got hugs, tons of kisses and multiple requests of "Mama, you hold me".
Uh, okay. I would love to hold you, you polar opposite child of yesterday, are you here to stay?

Today she peed on the potty and only had one accident, which she was sad about. Today she said excuse me, I love you, please, thank you and you're welcome. Today she listened and barely argued and demonstrated some patience.
Today she played with her friends, shared her cookies and didn't tattle. Most importantly, today she napped...

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She and I chatted in the car on the way to exercise class tonight and she was telling me that her friend Max is "a big, good boy", and her friend Maddie is "a good girl and nice". Then she told me that I was a "good lady. You a real good lady Mommy".
I replied with a thank you and then I asked if I was a good Mommy. I know, I know - dumb move.

She thought for a second and then said "No. No you no good Mommy. You good lady, mama. Not good Mommy".

Additude Again

A dear friend of mine, who is a mother of two with impeccable style, has the poster Keep Calm and Carry On hanging in her home.

I have always loved it. I find it hopeful, reassuring, and, well, calming. When we moved into our house I searched for a copy for my mudroom. A gentle reminder to keep my chin up, to trudge forward, to believe in the possibility that everything will be okay. At the time I couldn't find the darn poster. About two months ago I found my own gentle reminder, and these days I need it.
I need it because these days I get a lot of Additude. And when I say a lot, that is a colossal understatement.
I get Additude over potty training, over picking up toys, over getting dressed. It's delivered to me in the morning with a demand to watch cartoons. It's flaunted in front of me with a refusal to eat breakfast.

Additude abounds at exercise class, when she locks horns with another 2 1/2 year old. It shows up when Rylan comes over and glances at her toys. It is always present for nap time, usually rears it's ugly head in Target, and without fail it comes out in force when she is overtired.

The overtired Additude? That is a special treat. Overtired Additude is irrational. And loud. And inconsolable. Overtired Additude is characterized by the shrieking. And the spitting. And the hitting. And the foot stomping....and the DR.A.MA.

No one believes that the above Additude truly exists. Everyone looks at Andy and I as though we are the ones being overly dramatic. We must be exaggerating, their looks say, as this sweet cherub could never cause such a fuss.

Tonight, however, she defended our word with gusto. She looked at GG, Grandma Patty, her aunt, uncles and cousin and said "You doubt the accuracy of my parents. Take this, suckers."

She melted down. She sobbed. She screamed and kicked and slobbered. She slammed doors and babbled and got mean.
She was promptly stuffed into her car seat by my loving, wonderful husband. They went home, I stayed and played games. And worried, and felt guilty and maybe a little incompetent.

When I returned home an hour later, she was passed out. He was on the couch looking defeated. We talked and wondered what happened to our sweet, snugly little girl. What happened to our agreeable, loving babe? Where did she go? Will she ever return?

We couldn't get any answers, so we brewed a pot of Millionaire's Coffee and crossed our fingers, and quietly hoped for tomorrow.

***Update 1/25***

Between 10 p.m. and 10:30 p.m. she came into our room crying and wanting to be cuddled three times. She begged me to sleep on her floor and said "Lay down, MAMA".

At 11:45 p.m. she came back in our room sobbing and wanting mommy. When Andy brought her back to bed she cried like he was punching her.

At 2:00 a.m. I woke up to a tiny body curled up against mine, snoring. I carried her back to bed at 2:30 a.m. She slept until 7 a.m. And already is feeling a little bossy.

Oi. Vey.

Operation Undies - Day One

At long last the potty update is available...and oh, lord, there are a thousand more stories to tell already - but this sets the stage perfectly.

Operation Undies has commenced. Starting this week, each day, after nap time, we are going to hang out at home in undies. Okay, full disclosure, she'll be in her undies, I'll be fully dressed. (Collective sigh of relief).


Day ONE
Tuesday she chose her white Elmo undies with the purple trim and Elmo's smiling face by her belly button. Truth be told, they looked darn cute. Even with the wedgie she kept picking at.

I considered posting a picture, but then I considered the fact that my child's bottom doesn't need to be floating around the Internet and that when she's 15 she'll probably be rather thankful.


Forty-five minutes in and the undies were dry and the potty was used. If she made it to bedtime accident free I would have dubbed it a successful opening to the undertaking.However, being that this interaction happened five minutes before Operation Undies went into full effect I should have been a bit more skeptical.

I clued Andy into Operation Undies and then ran out the door to exercise. When I got home they were picking up her toys and laughing. I asked how she did and he said fine - I believed him, but I checked anyway.

• Me: Addie, did you peepee your undies?
• Addie: Hmmmm, what Mommy?
• Me: Did you go peepees in your undies?
• Addie: Just a little bit, Momma. Just a little bit. I poopoo too.

Sure enough, in addition to her damp pants there was faint mud mark on the inside of her pretty Elmo undies.

• Me: Addie, you poopooed?
• Addie: Yep. In garbage.
• Me: There's poopoo in the garbage? Please show me.

We walked up to her room where she turned to me and said:

See. In put in my garbage. And a little bit on the floor.

And, hot damn, wasn't she telling the whole truth. There was a mound of poo just inside her Diaper Genie and few strays on the floor. I wanted to scream. I wanted to stomp my foot. I wanted to ground her until she was twelve. Or at least old enought to properly wipe her own bottom.

But she kept staring at me with those big eyes, and telling me the truth, and looking a bit disappointed in herself. I couldn't yell. I couldn't be angry (well, not too angry).

I sat her down. We talked about using the toilet and the importance of trying and how she is a big girl. We talked about how yucky poop is and how important it is to put it in the toilet.

She nodded her head. She promised to try. I believed her.

Wednesday is another day, right?

*In case inquiring minds want to know, that's chocolate pudding smeared all over her face. I think she's saving some in case she doesn't get a treat later.

**And yes, she calls her Pull-Ups her "underwears" and now I do to. So much for caring about proper English.

***Let me be clear - in no way was this a reflection on Andy's parenting. She's sneaky and quick and eager to please. She dumped her poop in the Diaper Genie and put her undies back on....I think we have a long road ahead of us. Oi vey.

Princesses

I have had a lovely potty post waiting for your enjoyment, but Blogger is having issues with the video feed, and without the video of my darling daughter the post just isn't half as good. Therefore, while Blogger works diligently to allow my video to upload, I will move on.

The potty, I feel, will be a long drama of peeing and pooing and frustration. I am sure there will be many rant filled posts and wine filled nights to assist me through this process. So instead let's talk focus on something sunny - Princesses.

I don't really have that much of a problem with Disney Princesses. I know that there are all sorts of negative messages hidden in Disney stories that intellectual feminists can dissect to prove the destruction of positive girl self-image.

For example, my friend Sharon can't stand The Little Mermaid - she points out that Ariel literally gives up her voice to get her man - what kind of message does that send to little girls? Sure I see Sharon's point, but I also know that I wouldn't mind having Ariel's kicking waist line or mane of red hair, and darn, that girl can sing. Shallow of me? Yes.

So fine, there are negative messages, but I think there are some that could be skewed as positive too.

Seriously, Addie loves The Little Mermaid. She sings the songs, she dances, she cheers Ariel on. And why shouldn't she cheer her on? Ariel is curious and adventurous. She has a love of learning about new things. She has no problem with exploring creepy, sunken ships or with brazenly going to the surface. Sure, she defies her father, but what little girl doesn't on ocassion?

Addie also loves Cinderella. What's not to love about Cinderella? She's an animal lover. She's a hard worker. She can sing beautifully and she doesn't have a mean bone in her tiny size zero body.

And Belle? Oh, Belle is the bomb. She is loyal and brave. She loves books and turns her back on sleazy men. She's willing to look beyond the physical appearance of people and see their inner goodness. She adores her Daddy and doesn't need a prince to save her.

Snow White might be a little dim witted, but that girl quickly figured out how to get seven men to bend to her will and wait on her hand and foot. That's quite a skill.

With Addie's love of princesses comes her love to dress like a princess - tiara, tutus, princess heels, sash, wand, jewels - the whole she-bang. Lately, she's been insisting that her tutu is a part of just about every outfit. Yesterday, while I was on the phone with Gramma Kathy she walked proudly into my room in this get-up:

Yes, she's wearing a tutu on her head. Yes, she's wearing her pink flowery tutu over her Tinkerbelle dress. Yes, she's wearing her yellow Belle princess heels. Yes, she's feeling confident and in control.

I laughed so hard that I cried. Actual tears, dripping off my face. She was so proud of her outfit, she practically pranced into my room. She spun in circles and curtsied and took a bow. She was regal, and silly, and sassy.

So while my college-era feminist self isn't the biggest fan of the princesses, my mother of a two-year-old self has no problem with it.

I know that she and I talk about not just how cute she is, but how smart she is. Not just how pretty her skirts are, but how fun her sneakers are. I know that she loves her tutus and adores her tool sets. She likes playing the princess, but she also wants to kick a soccer ball.

My mother of a two-year-old self knows that those princesses aren't raising her, her father and I are.

And we, on occasion, feel like we're doing a pretty good job.

Weekend Wrap Up

Somehow, even as a stay at home mom, I still feel the magic of three day weekends. Usually it means that I can be more leisurely on Sunday - maybe have a mimosa and watch bad movies on TBS and go to bed knowing that the alarm clock won't be going off in the morning. And these days it usually also means that we might have visitors.

This three day weekend (a heartfelt thank you to Mr. Martin Luther King Jr.) was jam packed, mostly with laughter. Our friends from Chicago came to play - Andy and I have known Berto since freshman year and Keelin and I walked through the fire together at a south side Chicago elementary school. Most of the weekend was spent indoors, playing games, laughing, telling stories, inhaling wine. At least that's what the grown ups did - Addie fell in love all over again.

She called him my Berto. She snuggled with him. She gazed at him adoringly. They read stories about the potty. They had tea parties. He gladly wore the beads she adorned him with. They mirror danced. She pretended he was her pony and took a ride around the house. He put her to bed and she wanted to see him as soon as she woke up.

We sat back and sipped wine while watching Addie and her Chicago 'manny' reconnect and become smitten. We discovered that if Keelin and Berto ever decide to have children, they better have boys, because that man has an inability to say no to pretty ladies.

After they left I was tidying up - putting games away, cleaning counters, slamming magnets back on the door when I looked up and saw this:

I am pretty sure Berto did it, but I know Addie believes it.

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Sunday was all about Aunt Kelly.

Aunt Kelly is Uncle Brian's fiance. Somehow last July he tricked her into agreeing to marry him. The dresses have been bought, the reception site has been reserved, and the showers have begun. Nikki and Kim hosted a shower Sunday afternoon, replete with mimosas. Before going Andy and I had to explain to Addie that the party was for Kelly and all the gifts were for Kelly. All of them. None for Addie.

She handled that news better than we expected and behaved, for the most part, beautifully.

Kelly was a great sport playing a quiz game about her and Brian's relationship. Kim had videotaped Brian's responses and any time that Kelly's and Brian's answers didn't match Kelly had to put piece of Bubble Yum in her mouth - my jaw hurt watching her.

The wedding day count day has officially begun...88 more days to go!

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Monday was wonderful in a totally different way. My darling husband, who had the day off, went with me to Ikea to fulfill a promise. He wandered the store with me and looked at their ideas. And we left with what we had gone in for - new dressers for our bedroom.

He then spent the next many hours assembling the dressers, and for extra good measure, he even had Addie help him on the last one while I sat on the couch.

I sat on the couch while he worked diligently and entertained a 2-and-a-half-year-old . If that is not a gesture of true love, then I am not sure what is.

Pictures of our newly prettified room to follow - eventually.

Sweet heavens, you all know we love the zoo. The gibbons, the peacocks, the tiger babies, the merry-go-round, the train, the rhinos....all of it. It is our salvation many days. We pet goats, we talk to the gorillas, we look for the orangutans. We breathe the fresh air and wander around. The season pass - well worth it.

The Children's Museum? We have a new love affair with it. The tree house, the ball room, the toddler haven, and, of course, the water exhibit. She splashes and explores and builds and works off SO much energy. Our new yearly pass - some of the best spent money in the past year.

The Newport Aquarium? Eh.

Now, to be honest, I am not a huge fan of aquariums. Lots of fish, some turtles, usually a bit of an odd odor. There isn't any roaring, or rides, and the tanks are always just a bit too scuzzy.

As a kid, I visited the Mystic Aquarium several times - although the most memorable time was when the beluga whale took a poo while my face was pressed up against the glass mesmerized. A big poo. Whale poo is memorable - much to my Aunt Janet's chagrin.

I've wandered through the Shedd Aquarium several times. I've pet the turtles, cheered on the dolphins, penguins and belugas and stealthily avoided the gift shop. I think I mostly loved Shedd for its prime real estate on Lake Michigan and the fact that my Dad took me there when I was a little girl.

The point being, I headed to Newport Aquarium last week. It was an outlaw* date - Addie and I and Uncle Dickie and Rylan. Luckily, it was 'kids are free week' - and damn good thing, being that my ticket was $22 and a child ticket was $15.
WHAT?

For some fish?

And a couple of otters?

And a tank of overly friendly sharks? That could buy a good dinner and decent glass wine.

As limitedly impressed as I was, Addie LOVED it. The jelly fish, the Frog Bog, all the darn fishies. OH MY GOD, she saw DORY (but Nemo was hiding)! She saw penguins and alligators and turtles and SHARKS! She was with her RyRy and Uncle Dickie! FUN!

And then, oh two-an-a-half-year old JOY, the exit made us go through the gift shop - the toys and stuffed animals and ridiculous crap - SO AMAZING.

And SO still on the shelf.

The best part of the very expensive aquarium for me?

The ride home when she passed out.

*Rick and I married into this nutso family. Sometimes we're out of the loop. Sometimes we miss the inside jokes. Sometimes we quietly sit on the sidelines watching the chaos. But that's okay because we've formed our own OUTLAW club (I'm the lady in charge & he's the VP) and darn it, we h ave a GOOD time.

Tiny Break

And sometimes, the clouds part and you breathe and your are thankful that there are people around you to prop you up and give you a break and find your sanity.


The last week or so has been, as you can well tell, a bit trying. The lying. The endless temper tantrums. The refusal to poo on the pot. The picky eating. The mouthy mouthiness.

My salvation, on weeks like this, is school. Sweet, fabulous, glorious four hours on my own. There are school days when I miss her - yesterday was not necessarily one of those.

I dropped her off at school, warned her teacher about her obsession with the potty, and went on my merry way.

I joyfully cleaned our bathrooms. I showered with music blaring. I went shopping at Macy's - I fondled the sheets and towels, I browsed the home goods slowly, I breezed through the toddler section.

I rode the escalator without worrying about tripping or falling or bloody faces.


I went to Toys-r-Us and bought clothes for next season for the little lady. I didn't worry about bribing her with a 29 cent pencil or bubbles or having to reshelve the puzzle section.

I had my hair done - cut and colored. I read Cincinnati Magazine, sipped a cup of calming tea and indulged in a complimentary mini facial.


After such wonderfulness, I brought lunch to Genna, who picked Addie up from school to give me an extra hour of silence. We chatted and briefly visited and then I packed up Miss Thang and we headed off for her 2 1/2 year old check up and flu shot.


You would think that this would be a bad way to end the afternoon, but Addie loves, adores, worships her pediatrician. She was measured (37.7 inches), weighed (31.4 lbs) prodded and examined. She's looking good.

She was given the flu mist and we learned that while she can blow her nose like a champ, she does not get the concept of sniffing. She picked out her sticker (My Little Pony - thanks a ton Kate) and passed out in the car. She napped until 5:15 while I dozed on the couch...and at 6:15 she went to GG's house so I could exercise and run to the store.


It was like a mini-kidcation.
I breathed.
I sang in the car (for some reason I sang "I fought the law and the law won..." I have no idea why).
I shopped in silence. I sat in silence. I fell in love with silence.



Thank god for those people who give you a break...

AddiTude

Forget the complaining about the lies. My friend assures me that at two years old Addie doesn't really understand the concept of lying. Fine, I believe my friend, she's the mother of a four year old and expecting a baby boy the beginning of March - she must know something to have made it this far.

So forget the lying.
Let's focus on the attitude...or more aptly the Additude. Dear lord, there isn't enough wine, friends. Seriously, even if you offered me your stash of wine it wouldn't be enough.

Dinner tonight
Me: Babe, finish your meat and asparagus please.
A: I want pickle.
Me: I know that, but you need to eat your dinner first.
A: I WANT pickle!
Me: Addeeee, please finish your dinner.

A pink, plastic fork is thrown across the table, whizzing past my nose. Upon further inspection a pink, plastic tine is broken off it.

Me: AD.DI.SON! You broke your fork! And you almost hit Mommy. Time for the thinking stool.
A: NO THINK MAMA! I WANT PICKLE!
Me: Addie. Stool. Now.
A: PICKLE! (slamming fist into the puddle of ketchup on her plate)

Oh, don't worry she sat on that stool.
I moved it away from the window (because she kept blowing zerberts on the glass) to against the wall. In the new location she proceeded to prop up her feet and sing to herself.

Dinner. Done.
Bath. Taken.
Bed. Early.

House? Ahh, so quiet.

Will I survive the teen years?

Little Lies Later in the Day & a little Redemption?

Me: Add.i.son do NOT jump up and down on your bed. You know better.
A: Daddy says I can jump on the bed. Uh huh, Daddy says so. Yes. Daddy. Uh huh, mommy. Daddy okay.

Text message: Do you let her jump on the bed?
Text response: I tell her NOT to.

He comes home from work, before the game:
Him: Addison, did you tell Mommy that Daddy let's you jump on the bed?
A: No. I no say that, Daddy. I no jump.
Him: Addie are you fibbing to Dad and Mom?
A: No, Daddy. I no jump. No. I no say Dadddddy.

Bedtime - he's at the basketball game, I've already poured a glass of wine. Probably not my last glass of wine.

Me: Addie, go pick out two books for bedtime.
Me: No, Addie. Not three - pick two books. Two. Ad.d.ie TWO. Thank you.
A: Addie pick Curious George? Yeah, Curious George, mama.
Me: Addie, do we read Curious George at bedtime?
A: Yeassss. Daddy say...um, no. No Curious George bedtime Mama. Duckies?
Me: Make Way for Ducklings? Yes, babe, that sounds good.
A: Okay, mama. Curious George at nap tomorrow? Okay, mama. Tomorrow.

That might be my lie - she's totally not going to be at home for naptime tomorrow.

Little Lies

Me: Addie, please pick up your princess dominoes.
A: Okay mommy. (Continues playing with stuffed kitty and toy broom)
Me: Bud, you need to pick up your game - it's all over the hallway and we don't want to lose any pieces.
A: Okaaay, mommy. (Picks up two dominoes and then gets distracted by live cat meowing)
Me: Addison. I'm not going to ask again. Pick up your game. If mommy picks it up then it is mine.
A: Okay, mom. I all done. You pick up. I done.

So I picked up the dang dominoes, illustrated with Belle, Cinderella, Aurora, Jasmine and Ariel - her most favorite people these days - and I put them on top of the cabinets. My game now, kiddo.

A: Mooooommmeeeeee, my game! My game! I want my game.
Me: Sorry kiddo, I told you it was mine if I had to pick it up.
A: Screeching and blubbering and nonsensical words. Stomping of feet, throwing herself on the floor, river of snot. PLEAAAASE MOMA!
Me: Nope. You can earn it back to tomorrow, now stop all the crying, drama mama.
A: Distracted by sight of tea set. Okay mommy, you want tea or coffee?

Andy came home and I got ready to jet out the door to my exercise class and 75 minutes of being childfree. Before I left I explained to him the dominoes situation and said she couldn't have them until they were earned back the next day. Kiss kiss, bye bye. Good luck.

Pulling into class my phone rings:
Him: Did you tell her she could have treat milk when I got home?
Me: What? Treat milk? Uh, No.
Him: She said that mommy said yes to treat milk.
Me: Yeah, she's lying.
Him: Addie - are you fibbing to Daddy? That's not nice, we don't tell fibs. No treat milk.

I went off to work on my spare tire...and according to him a few minutes later she looked at him with those huge, beautiful eyes and said:

Daddy? I get my game? (pointing to the top of the cabinets) Mommy said yes. Uh huh, mommy said.

Oy Vey.

More on that later: Part II

It is no secret that Neyers love the beach.

All Neyers. If you don't love the beach, you are not permitted to be a Neyer (at least that was how it was explained to me in our wedding vows).

However, it is possible that the Neyer who loved the beach the very most was Bob.

He loved the sounds of the ocean. He loved the riding the waves, walking on the beach, breathing the salty air. He loved surfing for beer, hunting for sand crabs, and munching on shrimp.

There is a part of me that truly thinks that James Taylor really wrote Carolina in my Mind for Bob, not his nephew. JT might dispute that, but I know better.

But it wasn't just the Carolina shore that lured him in - it was any shore. I have several memories of Bob jumping in the ocean, while I was on the shore wearing long sleeves and shivering. He took a swim in the Pacific, on our way home from Napa and Sonoma, and I was sure my heart would stop just from watching him.

His friends tell the story of Bob's dip into the Atlantic while in Myrtle Beach. They cheered him and sidekick, Jimbo, from the shore clad in winter coats, hats and mittens. Bob trotted back to the beach shivering, smiling and laughing. Jimbo swore he couldn't breathe and that his heart was beating atypically.

We watched a wind surfer in St. Pete's Beach get tossed around one February, and huddled under our sweatshirts, as he ran straight at the freezing water and stopped - he was no longer allowed to participate in such craziness - so my husband did it for him.

Idiotic. Idiotic, loving, freezing son.

The man loved the ocean. And he passed that love on to his children. When he wasn't allowed in to make such foolish choices anymore, they were his proxies. And now, in his memory, they brave cold water, wind and freezing sand. And no doubt they do it gladly.

I'll watch from the beach, drink and dry towel in hand. Smiling.

More on that later: Part I

Several weeks before Christmas my brother sent out a link to the top 15 toys to NOT buy your child this holiday season. Most were super ridiculous, rather amusing and a tad insulting. I glanced at them, quietly snickered and deleted the email.

And then I was told that one of those horrid little toys had been bought for Addie. Actually, it turned out both my mother and brother (yes, the same brother who sent the dang email!)thought it was appropriate - and with their tastes, I was wor-ri-ed.


I couldn't figure out which toy it could be.

• Would it be the fish de-boning kit, since she likes sushi so much?
• It could be the homicidal Elmo. She LOOOOOVES Elmo. Please, not a speaking homicidal Elmo.
• No one would buy her the pole dancer doll...would they? Seriously, a pole dancing doll?? SERIOUSLY?
• Oh my god, is it the breast feeding baby doll? Would they really buy her a baby doll to "nurse" knowing how much I struggled?
• They would NOT dare send me, I mean, us the Lil Monkey doll set...I do love African-American babies more than anyone truly knows, but one that is paired with a monkey that can wear the baby's diaper? That is scandalous. Uh, and super offensive.

I fretted. I worried. And thought about how I could return the gift.

All, apparently, very needlessly.
Grammy Kathy got Addie a Cleaning Trolley Set. It comes replete with a vacuum, broom, dust mop, hand broom, dust pan, sponge, spray bottle, bucket and cleaning bowl. It was assembled in minutes, provided some Christmas Eve laughter, and, most importantly, was a HUGE hit on Christmas morning.

Addie, as we well know, is quite the little cleaner. Yes, she is a tornado of a mess too, but she enjoys cleaning up her messes (sometimes). She'll wash walls, vacuum floors, scrub tubs.

She thinks that cleaning is cool (Please, god, let her hang on to this trait. Her parents lack it.)

Since the Cleaning Trolley Set has entered our lives my hall has been vacuumed plenty of times. The kitchen table bench as been sprayed down and scrubbed. The Ikea Poang Chair has been buffed to a high shine. The cat has been dusted. I've been swept.

We are in tip top shape.
Luckily for us, the Cleaning Trolley Set did NOT say (as in my brother's email) "Girls Only".


Hey, who knows, maybe her fastidiousness will rub off on Daddy.



Or, maybe, even Mommy.

Snow Day

Snow = Ok. Cold = Not Ok.

Today is a snow day in Cincinnati. Every school is closed - private, public, pre.

Closed.

Mind you, I could see my lawn when we rolled out of bed at 8 a.m. and Addie and I had no problem driving to Target for a quick shopping trip.

But here, in the land of the 'Nati, the very threat of snow can bring everything to a halt. My mother refers to us a southern Ohio wimps, I am beginning to agree with her.

Snow doesn't really bother me. I think it's pretty. Making snowmen and going sledding is fun. Shoveling isn't the worst task in the world. Being "snowed in" is a great excuse to watch movies, organize, clean house, finally get the laundry done and cook. I might even accomplish some of that today on this pathetic snow day. Might.

It's probably true that I am becoming a southern Ohio wimp, but overall I can handle the cold weather. It's supposed to be cold in January.

In Ohio.

In Florida? Um, no.

This brings me to our post-Christmas get away to Destin.

This fall at a Leukemia and Lymphoma Society fundraiser Andy and I bid, with friends, on an ocean front condo for a week. We "won" and decided we were going to take off for warmer endeavors after the holidays.

Shortly after planning our trip, our friends found out that they were pregnant their second child and that the trip was scheduled for the third trimester - needless to say they gracefully bowed out. Which was no big deal, Andy's sister and mother were happy to take their place (hello, Aunt Nanny, er, Nikki on vacation = built in babysitter!!).

So we packed the car and pointed south.

Twelve hours south.

Twelve hours south in car with a two year old.

We had heard stories from last year about happy hours on the beach that started at 3. We had heard about lounging by the heated pool in a swimsuit and cover up. We had heard about shrimp baskets and shopping and warm Florida sunshine.

Sadly, we only got to hear about those things.

When we arrived we quickly discovered that the restaurant on the beach that had 3 p.m. happy hour had burnt down.

The heater for the pool was broken.

The sales at the outlets were mediocre at best, there was barely any damn sunshine, and it sure wasn't warm!

Okay, to be fair, one day the thermometer hit 60. That was the day that Andy and Nikki plunged into the Gulf (more on that later) and we realized a small tiki bar was open on the beach.

Addie at the tikki bar in a bathing suit and sweater. Notice the patrons behind her are wearing boots.

We were treated to a few beautiful sunsets. We played a ton of Taboo and drank pots of Millionaire Coffee. We ate our fair share of seafood and even braved the hot tub and pool once. Well, I braved the hot tub, foolish Nikki, Andy and Addie braved the unheated pool.

I'll take temperatures in the 30s in Ohio and I won't complain. But in Florida? Well, that just made me grumpy.

Enjoying the sunset with our sweatshirts on...you can't see it, but Addie has on her winter coat and mittens. Geeesh.

Happy Birthday, Andy

This side of 12 years ago I was delayed in Omaha, headed for Chicago, and ready to celebrate his 21st birthday.

I finally arrived in whirl of wind and cold and snow and we headed out to the bars. He did shot after shot, I joined him for just a few.

He wore a wrinkled sweater, a size too big, and a beard. I wore the obligatory black pants and belly bearing shirt.

We laughed with friends and got a tad drunk.

I remember thinking then, I'm going to marry this guy.

I am sure that we ended the night with a burrito and started the next day with a headache.

After all, you only turn 21 once...

I sit here today in a pair of worn out fleece pants and a pullover, at 4:00, unshowered.

He headed off to work in a pressed button down and a newly grown beard.

We're heading out tonight - to a fifth grade basketball game and dinner of wings and beer. We won't be laughing with friends, but we'll be amused by a two year old and surrounded by family.

We'll surely be in bed by 11:00 and it's doubtful there will be any head aches tomorrow.

After all, you only turn 33 once...

I think I like this side of the 12 years the best. Happy Birthday, Husband....

Christmas Craziness

To say that the holidays were hectic would be a massive understatement.

Christmas was a whirlwind of wrapping, unwrapping, cooking and eating. By the end of third celebration in three days Addie was in a gift coma. She was given an abundant amount of gifts: a CD player, dolls, tool boxes, cleaning sets (more on that later), clothes, movies and on and on.

It's hard to complain about people loving your child and wanting to give her everything under the sun, but it's also difficult to stomach a two year old who says "moooore" after each gift and cries when the next gift is not for her. Addie was grateful for everything she got, but had a hard time grasping that it all wasn't just for her.


Unlike last year, she solidly understood the concept of opening presents and proved to be a pro at it. If she thought you were taking a bit too long with your opening she generously helped out. Also, unlike last year, she now has a phenomenal memory and knows exactly what she got - making spreading out the wealth a bit harder. Last year we were able to put some gifts up in the closet and not introduce them until months later (she got her last Christmas gift of 2008 in November of 2009). That should prove to be a bit more challenging this year.

Even with the chaos and the endless piles of gifts, we had a good holiday. I was reminded how lucky I am to have the family that I do. That with chaos comes silliness and joy.

Addie was blessed with having her Grammy Kathy fly into to be with her and thrilled to have her Daddy home from work for two weeks.

Cookies were baked, games were played, and laughter filled our house.

Addie was awestruck by what each new package brought and couldn't believe that Santa had eaten all the cookies she had left out.

She twirled in her Christmas Eve dress, snuggled with her GG, played her new games, shared with Rylan and hugged her mom and dad again and again.

When the holiday was over and nothing was put away, we hit the road to Destin for some sunny relaxation -it was the coldest Floridian vacation I've ever been on.