Potty Mouth

From Big Sister:

Fish = pi$$
Beach = b----
Bonk = f---
and she consistently points with her middle, rather than index, finger.

All the potty mouthing is ignored though, especially when I know it's unintended. And especially on nights where the last thing I hear from her is: Mom, thank you loving me.

Elmo's World

I made the mistake of telling Big Sister that the school by our house is called "St. Elmo."

"That Elmo's school?" she asks every time we drive by.
"No, it's just the name of the school."
"Elmo there? Cookie Monster too? Big Bird?"
"No Baby, they live on Sesame Street. They don't go to school here."

It's been the same dialogue each day for a week. Though yesterday she figured it out.

"Elmo not there because him a baby. That a big kid school. Him go there next time."

Maybe.......

Happy Birthday, Big Sister!!

"I Mickey Mouse my birthday?"

That's all I've heard for a week. Mickey Mouse this and Mickey Mouse that. Mickey Mouse's house is my own personal hell. Why? Because his name is not Mickey Mouse. It's Chuck E Cheese.

I am not a fan of robotic rats, crappy pizza, and generic silly bandz that cost 100 tickets each.

But....a certain someone's birthday was made. Morning to night it was a good day. Birthday Girl shirt announcing the day, cookies with her new class at daycare, a trip to "Mickey Mouse's house", yummy cake with too much frosting, and a few presents to unwrap.

The last words out of my overtired now-three-year-old tonight? "Mama, I not two more, right? I three now. It my birthday. My Mickey Mouse pink birthday."

Happy Birthday Sweet Girl!

Just the Right Spot

I don't always feel like I am there. But then there are days like today where I feel that I am in just the right spot. Crazy fish bowl life, adorable kids who will one day leave, court dates and parent visits, social network equaling caseworkers in their cubes. It's not always a bad thing living this different life. I am grateful for days where I feel fully present in today and not worried about good-byes ahead.

Not Guilty

...this time.

Admittedly, when Little Guy turned three, there was much guilt about his birthday cake. He had no strong opinions (that he could communicate in English) and I was dog tired with Night Owl still being very nocturnal. Dog. Tired. So, after much internal debate, I used the idea that he didn't care to sway myself to Central Market for cupcakes. As luck would not have it, Central Market was only making burnt orange and white cupcakes that day. They didn't even have sprinkles (we added those at home). Lame, lame, lame. Guilt, guilt, guilt.

Big Sister is turning three tomorrow. I'm pretty confident she doesn't really care about her cake either, but now I have the energy to do what I know how to do pretty well. Her only request? "Pink!"


I can't wait for the little easy-to-please birthday bunny to hop out of bed tomorrow to see it.

Crazy Cat Lady in Training

It started as a shriek of terror on her first night here. But now, the littlest member of the house is obsessed with the cats. Her bionic ears pick up the sound of their feet hitting the floor or of their collars shaking. She knows that the clink of plates followed by the squeak of the utensil drawer means that it's feeding time (and thankfully, she has outgrown her desire to eat their food all the time). She wants to know where they are every minute. She follows, pets, screeches, and calls them. Little one has maybe six or seven words but the most frequently used one is "kitty cat". Unfortunately for other animals she may run across, she has not yet figured out exactly what a cat is. So, sorry Shamu, dolphins, sharks, whales and sea lions at Sea World. Sorry llamas, tigers, pigs and lemurs at the zoo. For today, you too are a "kitty cat."