Splish, Splash, I Was Taking a Bath(Blaff)

BigM loves bath(blaff)time. Well, maybe not her very first one. DM is gone most mornings by the time she wakes up, so even when she was "Little Mouse," we kind of established that he would be the giver of the bath(blaff). They have a ball in there and he has taught her some really great lessons.

My very favorite is when he asks her "Whose feet did Jesus wash?" when he washes her feet. She will respond, "His fwends." He then asks her, "Why?" and she says, "Betause he woved dem." (I kind of get a little lump in my throat thinking about it.)

Or body parts. Yes, my 18 month old could correctly identify her axilla. Bonus points will be awarded if you can correctly identify YOUR axilla. (Am I raising a weirdo here?- the answer is yes.)

When she was in daycare, she would spend a good amount of her day scooting around on the floor and she would come home with what we southerners (apparently) affectionately refer to as "grocery store feet." (I actually polled some of my friends across the country and no one knew what I was talking about. The closest I could get was, "You mean like Britney Spears Gas Station feet?" Kind of. You know when you (ok, not YOU and definitely not ME) haven't mopped your floors or vacuumed in awhile and when you walk through your house, your socks get dirty on the bottom? Hypothetically, of course? Well, same thing, except you aren't wearing socks- the bottoms of your feet get dirty.) So not only were her cute little tootsies all nasty and stuff, if her feet were that gross, just imagine what kind of germs she was carrying around on that little body. So bath(blaff)time was not an option. And so it became a part of our bedtime routine. Also, after feeding a baby/toddler/little girl, most parents will agree it's easier just to plop them in the bathtub rather than try and clean them up with a rag.

Currently, the rule is "You can play until the water runs out" and my little einstein has figured out that if she puts the washcloth over the drain, it slows down the water. DM has admitted he pretends not to notice since they're both having so much fun in there. It's turned into a family event, as LM and I sometimes watch while we sit on the potty (which, BigM is still refusing to use, btw.) And most nights, LM gets a dunking afterwards. She loves bath(blaff)time too. It must run in the family!

Every once in awhile, I will need to shower after dinner (after an afternoon aerobics class or if I can't remember the last time I actually got to take a shower...) and BigM gets in with me. She's not particularly a fan of the shower, and I can't imagine if I were her size I would be either. The main attraction is the foaming soap I promise she can use if she'll just get in with me. Which I have to spray ALL over the shower walls. I usually bathe first while she plays with the foam and lately, she's been helping me get clean.

She'll lather her hands up with the foam and the next thing I know, she is rubbing foam all over my bottom, telling me "I washing your bootie, Mama." (Thank you for clarifying.)

A few weeks ago, her next line was, "Now turn around so I can wash your belly button!"

Can this kid get any cuter?

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!

Today was a historic day. It snowed here! Those of you who live anywhere other than here (or maybe Florida) are probably rolling your eyes. It was 67 on Christmas Day. For the record, I don't do cold. I wasn't completely unprepared, as our local newscaster said last night, "Don't laugh at us, we've got the snow patrol ready just in case. We're here at the grocery store and just look at these shelves!" He was standing in the bread aisle and it was completely bare. When someone cries "snow!" it's amazing- everyone and their grandmothers haul it to the market to buy bread, milk and water. Most of the time, it just gets really cold and nothing happens. But not this time.

LM has been keeping me up at night, so my big plans to get up early were blown out of the water and we all actually didn't get out of bed until 7:40 (thank you for sleeping late, BigM!) We have to leave the house no later than 8:42 to get BigM to school on time (or less than 10 minutes late), so I accepted the idea that we were just going to be a little late(r than usual.) I got the girls dressed and we went into the kitchen to eat breakfast (yes, it really does take about 30 minutes to get BigM dressed.) When I looked at the clock and it said 8:17 I just decided we'd be reaaallly late. (I was still in my bathrobe and pjs.) And then I looked out the kitchen window and saw snow falling to the ground. BigM said, "Mama, I want to stay home wif you and Widdle Mouse." It actually had nothing to do with the snow, she usually says that every morning at least 2 times before we leave.

So BigM played hooky today. Okay, okay, MM played hooky from taking BigM to school today. And I did laugh a little bit at 2:30 when she decided she did want to go to school. (School is over at 1.)

It snowed on and off all day long and at first I was a little bit disappointed that DM has our camera with him... until I realized that if I took a picture of anything, it would look exactly the same as if I took a picture of the yard in the middle of the summer after it rained. Not even a millimeter stuck to the ground and anything that stuck in the bushes had melted by lunchtime.

Yes, today was a truly historic day.

Under the Table and Dreaming

Some things I don't know:
1. much about geography.
2. why contestants on The Bachelor always say after 13 minutes that there's a "connection."
3. how I managed to pass Chemistry in college.

What I do know:

My little mice are growing up too quickly. My mom gave us the book "Love You Forever" and at the risk of offending a large number of mothers and Robert M himself, I really think it's kind of a weird story. At least the last part. If you're not familiar, here's the Mommy Mouse Cliff Notes version:

A mommy rocks her new baby and sings a sweet little song that as long as she's alive, he will be her baby. (I totally get that part.) So as the baby grows, the mommy goes into his room- even as a teenager and "if he's really asleep," she picks him up and rocks him and sings the song. Ok, so he's finally a grown up and he has his own house and sometimes the mom straps a ladder to her car, performs a little B&E and rocks her grown son- who sleeps in a twin bed, I might add, singing the song. So one day, the son gets a call that his sweet mommy is old & sick, so he goes to her house and rocks her singing the song. When he goes home, he picks up his new baby daughter and sings her the song.

It really is a sweet story, but I just can't help but imagine my mother-in-law coming over to our house in the middle of the night and letting herself in and getting DM out of the bed to rock him. He's practically 6' tall. Something about that is just mildly disturbing to me. I said mildly. I know you are ready to stone me. Anyway, BigM has requested we read that book every night since Christmas and tonight has been the first night I have been able to read it to her without crying.

LM is getting ready to crawl. She's just about got it down, at least the getting up on all fours part. Actually propelling herself forward- not there yet but I bet she'll be mobile in the next week. And she's getting teeth! I cannot believe it! (And I'm dreading her biting me while nursing!) Last time I checked, I had a newborn baby (and actually, it was BigM.) Who is this adorable baby scooting around on the floor?

Before I know it, that baby will be 3 1/2 feet tall saying things like, "Mommy, I wuv you. Tank you for tooking supper." (And then my mice will be staying stuff like, "Mo-om, you're so lame. And I'm not eating this." To which I will gladly reply, "This is not a restuarant, there is not a menu.") Speaking of supper, DM has been out of town for the past week or so, and it's been crazy around here. Insane, lock-me-up-in-a-straight-jacket crazy. But when BigM said, "Mommy, wet's eat dinner under da table tonight," I shrugged my shoulders and told her that was a great idea. How can you say no to that? (Besides, we could never do that when DM is here, remember, he's almost 6' tall!) So there we were, eating breakfast for dinner, on a picnic blanket under our kitchen table.

I also know I bawl my eyes out everytime I hear the song, "Cinderella" that Stephen Curtis Chapman sings. I cannot even discuss my little mice starting kindergarten, much less going off and getting married. My heart just breaks inside. (Maybe I will need a little bit of that teenager attitude to make me want them to leave.) I always knew I wanted to be a SAHM and now that I actually have the family to stay home with, it's even better than I could have ever imagined.

So I'll "dance with Cinderella, while she is here in my arms.
'Cause I know something the prince never knew.
And I'll dance with Cinderella,
I don't want to miss even one song.
Cause all too soon,
the clock will strike midnight and she'll be gone."