The Name Game

I very rarely call my kids by their real names, unless they are doing something that requires the "full name-shout out." (In which case, BigM knows she better straighten up. She doesn't always do it, but she recognizes that she should...)

So some of their other nicknames (other than Big Mouse and Little Mouse) are Sugar, Sweet Pea, Boo-boo, the Big One and the Little One and various variations of their real names. (No, their birth certs don't actually say Big Mouse and Little Mouse.) And BigM has given LM her very own special name that no one else can call her. (We do anyway, but it's "her" special name for her little sister.)

The current nicknames came from BigM... she's Mustard, I'm Ketchup and LM is Pickle. I got some very strange looks at the park yesterday when she kept yelling, "Kehchup, wook ah me, Kehchup! Say, 'Watcha doin, Mustard?!!'" and of course I would respond, "Whatcha doing, Mustard?" (No wonder none of the other mommies tried to make friends!)

I think these names are going to stick because last night at supper, when LM was fussing because apparently we don't put the rice cereal in her mouth fast enough- BigM said, "Wassa madder, Pickle?" DM just shook his head. It wasn't really worth explaining.

We're about to leave for BigM's last day of school before we move. I think I'll be sad a little (later, right now we're just late)- she doesn't know she will see her friends for the last time today, and in all honesty, I don't remember any of my friends from preschool. I doubt she'll be crushed, and she might not even notice. But I will, and I'm a little sad about closing this chapter of her life. I'm taking the camera to school today. And if it's not illegal, I plan on taking pictures of all her friends.

Monster-in-Law

I have to admit, sounds like I am one of the luckier wives on earth. I actually not only love my mother in law, but I like her too! We tell people all the time (who probably roll their eyes in their heads) that we are best friends, and we mean it! Lolli rocks.

So most recently, here are just two of the many reasons Lolli rocks.

1. Lolli (and Pop, can't leave him out here) came to visit last weekend and offered to take BigM home with them for a few days. I could not pack her bag fast enough! (Don't get me wrong, I love her with all my heart, but Mommy Mouse just needed a break. One day when you read this, BigM, please understand that it has nothing to do with you, but I was slowly beginning to wonder if I was losing my mind. After 48 hours of semi-quiet and absolute calm in the house, to quote that song, "I can see clearly now...")

2. While BigM was at Lolli and Pop's house, Lolli got her to tee-tee on the potty TWO times. This, from the child who looks at me dead in the eyes and says, "Mommy, I jus tee-teed in my diaper. I don want to use da potty. I don wike it. Ime jus goin to wear diapers, okay?" (Um, not okay.)

We went to the park today, and on the way home, BigM said, "Mommy, I need to tee-tee an I wan to sit on da potty. And I want to wear pannies an not wear diapers anymore." Unfortunately, I am not a Nascar driver, so we didn't make it to the potty before she went in her diaper, but I think she's just about there if we stick around here for a few days and have Potty Training Boot Camp.

I missed that little girl while she was gone. She also told me on the way home, "Dere is a spider in my room." (There is?) "Yes, he wihves in my cwoset." (He does?) "Yes an he is in dere upside down. Das hih-larry-us." I'm so glad she's back and I can't wait until Lolli wants to come get her again.

I'm Lovin' It.

Actually, I'm not loving it. I have always despised McDonald's and my dislike just grows and grows as each day passes.

For many reasons, the Mouse Family doesn't get to eat out much. (Mostly budget constraints, but everyone knows it's healthier to cook in and I love to cook anyway. I know, digressing again.) Back in early September, DM's parents came to spend the night, arriving a little after supper time. (In the south, dinner = lunch and supper = dinner.) We had already eaten, but we promised BigM she could stay up and wait for Lolli and Pop. Pop had stopped at McDonald's on the way and ended up with 2 extra regular cheeseburgers. (I don't ask, they don't tell me.) Despite my best efforts to feed my mouse healthy balanced meals, I have no problem letting her eat junk with the grandparents. So BigM got her first taste of a fast food hamburger. (I took pictures, really. It was that big of a deal to me.) Pop ate her pickles, and when BigM gets her mind on something, boy does it stick. She would ask me weeks later, "Did Pop take my pictle?" (Yes, he did.) "Dat wudden bery nice of him, was it?" (No, but you didn't want them anyway.) So needless to say, like any regular human, this kid loved that cheeseburger.

Fastforward a few weeks, I think I was subbing an aerobics class at the gym and most of the time the way this works is I bring the kids to the gym (across from his school) and he gets in the car and takes them back home and I find his car in the ginormous parking lot and eventually make it home after class. Well, this particular night, DM decided to stop at McDonald's for BigM's very first Happy Meal. The highlight, of course, being the toy. That week's theme, something ridiculous like, "Barbie around the World" so we are now the proud owners of a 4" tall toothpick-skinny-half-clothed Barbie (I guess) named Theresa, from Rio deJanero (aka "Reesa.") (We are also the proud owners of at least fourteen different colored My Little Ponys, an assortment of plastic Ronalds in various mobiles, some fuzzy clip on hearts for your shoes and a very weird and downright scary stuffed dog, all from "Donald's." But this particular story is about Reesa.)

Reesa has knocked Bobo (the monkey) and Babydoll and Baby (I told you, we're creative with names around here) out of the prime sleeping spot (under BigM's arm.) We have to take Reesa EVERYWHERE with us, to the park, on our daily jog, to the kitchen, to the bathroom (not to the potty, mind you) and of course, to school. However, toys from home are strongly discouraged, so I told BigM she could bring Reesa inside, but Reesa had to stay in her bag. BigM knew the drill so she didn't argue. And that was the last I saw of Reesa.

BigM was heartbroken, so DM and I fabricated this story that Reesa was homesick, so she went on vaca back home to Rio and we were just positive she would return soon (aka when we moved. I thought she was maybe in the car. I knew we hadn't lost her, I'm not that lucky.) And as she tends to do, over the last 5 months, BigM would frequently ask me, "Reesa till on vatation?" or tell the lady ringing up our groceries, "I wost Reesa but Mommy taid she was on vatation."

Well, let me just tell you. I stopped jogging back in October when a cold snap went through- I just couldn't imagine getting the girls out early in the morning in the freezing cold (really, I just couldn't imagine getting me out early in the morning in the freezing cold) so I haven't been jogging since then. DM is very unhappy about that as we spent a small fortune on the BOB jogging stroller I just had to have (and I stand by my love for it. I'd trade it for my car. It's that awesome.) Well, the weather was just beautiful a few days ago... (it was in the 50s but it LOOKED warm outside, boy was I fooled.) So I told BigM we could go on the jogging trail and she could walk while I pushed LM in the double jogging stroller. Guess who was waiting for me when I popped that sucker open? REESA! SHE CAME BACK FROM VACATION!

We're back to our old tricks. Reesa has gone everywhere with us and she has reclaimed the coveted position in BigM's crib, right under her arm. I made the mistake of leaving her in the rocking chair tonight and about 45 mins after BigM had gone to sleep, she woke up hysterical, crying and screaming, "I WANT REESA, MOMMMMMMMMMMYYYY, WHERE IS REESA? I NEED HER!!! TOME FINE HER, MOMMEEEEEEEEEEYYYYY." So I retrieve her and remind BigM that if Reesa happens to fall out of her crib while she's asleep, it's only because Reesa likes to sleep on the floor sometimes and she shouldn't get upset and wake her (meaning me) up during the night. Her response, "She does? O-tay, Mama."

When do they stop believing everything you tell them? Don't tell me, I don't want to know.

The Great Mistersippi

BigM has been taking piano lessons. Yes, she's only 2 1/2 (almost 3!) but one of DM's classmates majored in piano in college and has offered to give us free lessons. BigM has been doing really well with it, considering her attention span is (on average) 30 seconds. So far, she's learned a few rhythms, the difference between black keys and white keys, how to correctly touch the piano ("do a cat back, take a leap and land upon your fingertips") and how to sit up straight on the bench with a stuffed animal perched on her head so it won't fall off.

She's also learned the correct procedure for thanking her audience after she preforms her wonderful piece of music (which so far has been banging on a few keys loudly or softly.) She wriggles herself off the bench and stands still like a soldier. Mrs. Katie has told her to "look down at your feet and say to yourself, 'Mississippi' and look back up." So BigM puts one hand on her tummy and one on her back, leans over completely at the waist, yells at the top of her lungs, "MISTERSIPPI" and stands back up grinning from ear to ear while I clap enthusiastically from the couch.

Maybe she'll be a concert pianist someday. (But I'm guessing it probably won't be tomorrow.)

Call Me

I'm not really good at keeping in touch with my friends. (Which is part of why I started this blog- and funnily enough, I haven't told most of my BFFs about it yet...) Oh and I'm not really good at keeping up with stuff I don't need, like my wallet or my cell phone. True story- when I was working (outside the home, of course) I couldn't find my purse for a few days, but I wasn't worried because I just assumed it was in my car. So a few more days go by and I still hadn't seen it, but I hadn't looked for it. (DM is a student, it's not like I ever get to buy anything.) So finally, about a week later, I get a phone call and the caller says, "Ms. Mouse, this is the manager at the local grocery store. We found your wallet here and I just wanted you to know it's been sitting here at the front desk for awhile now." That really happened, I didn't make that up.

So it shouldn't surprise you that I lose my cell phone every few days, for about a week. It happens all the time. Well, I've been looking for it for awhile now- I do try to keep better tabs on it now that I'm carting around the mice. It had been missing for a little over a week but I wasn't worried, I was positive I would find it in one of it's usual hiding places- under the chair in the playroom, behind the seat in my car or where ever BigM left it when she was playing with it.

I do laundry late at night, while the Mouse House is asleep. I started a load before bed last Thursday and we slept in big time and then we just got busy, so I kind of let it sit for a few hours. (Really, I *never* do that. First time, promise.) So I went ahead and restarted the washer and went to put the clothes in the dryer right after it stopped spinning. And wouldn't you know it, guess what was sitting in the bottom of the washer? My cell phone. So it got washed, not once, but twice. It's all shiny and clean and it turns on and everything. For awhile on Friday, it even worked! I called a few friends to test it out. And I called my mom. And all of the sudden, when I tried to call DM, I dialed "7" and without even trying I also dialed "9799#." And if that wasn't enough fun, every time I opened the phone, it called my mom. (She was in a doctor's appointment, so I know she was just thrilled to get called every 14 seconds.) I finally took the battery out and left it alone for the weekend. So now it turns on, but the buttons don't work.

I knew I shouldn't have done the laundry.

Oh and I probably don't have your number anymore so you better just go ahead and email it to me.

Creepy Crawlies

LM crawled this morning! It was only 2 paces, but she did it! (And then she stopped and resumed the soldier scoot.)

Where did my little baby go? And let me tell you how excited I am about having to re-babyproof the house. I was hoping she could hold off for the next 30 days or so until we moved so I could just babyproof the new house.

Darn it!

But my little mouse crawled! I cannot believe it.

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?