Too much social media?

It's no secret in this house that I love my social media - Facebook and Twitter being my poisons of choice.

The Mad Hatter will often see a pic pop up on my FB screen and exclaim "Oh, how cute!" or "Mommy, who is that?"

This past Sunday morning I used Twitter as a resource to get some advice on something I can no longer even remember. However, I do remember exclaiming to my husband that having Twitter is having an entire world of information at your fingertips in seconds.

The MH has been working diligently in kindergarten and there's a lot of focus "kid-writing", sounding out the letters in a word and writing them the way she hears them.

The results are usually hilarious.

For a while she liked wen something would happen. She has besst frendz. If"miss" is spelled m-i-s-s, then isn't misstr the correct spelling for the female's male opposite?

A couple of minutes after discussing my love for Twitter (a conversation that so brief I wouldn't even consider it a conversation), I got this taped to my bathrobe:

Please ignore my five o'clock shadow.

A few minutes later, she decide to ammend her thought:

Twitter moms are awesome.

My thoughts exactly.

The things I never want to forget.

I constantly say that I wish I walked around with my life on record because the conversations and things that come out of the Mad Hatter’s mouth are the things that get me through the roughest days of motherhood.

Not to mention that unless you’ve heard her, and the little voice that goes along with them, you honestly wouldn’t believe the things she manages to come out with.

Seriously – there are so many “Mad-Hatterisms” that sadly, I forget the majority or them, or just can’t do them justice by the time I get to sit down and write about them.

This morning, as we were walking out the door for her first full-day back at preschool after a week’s vacation, she’d said to me: “I hope it’s okay that I asked Daddy to take out your exercise ball for me – I wanted to do some exercise. Is that okay? Can I do some exercise when I get home from school?” I told her of course (clearly humoring her!), and off we went for the day.

We walked in about 10 minutes ago and she pulled off her coat and sweater.

“Ok Mommy, I’m going to do my exercises now. Can you turn on the TV so I can watch while I do them? And then, I have to get on my computer like I promised myself.” (Daddy just got a new computer and the lucky little one inherited a laptop of her very own – I can still remember the day mid-elementary school when we got our first family computer – a Commodore 64)

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “You promised yourself you were going to ‘get on your computer’"?”

“Yeah, mommy. I made a plan for exactly what I was going to do today. So, I need to do my exercises, practice on my computer, and then I can eat dinner. Okay?”

Can I just remind everyone once more that she turned 5 exactly TWO weeks ago today?

I wonder if I can work cleaning the house into her future “plans”.

WW - If a picture is worth a thousand words . . .

Then this one is most definitely going down in the family books.

Most likely for blackmail purposes, say when she hits her teen years and doesn't remember these good old days when she promised us she'd never give us attitude as a teen, would always be as lovey and snuggly as she is right now, we'll forever be her best friends in the whole world, maybe around prom time . . .

Anyways, a few weeks ago, we went on MH's first field trip, to a local farm. So much fun - riding a schoolbus, going on a hayride, picking a pumpkin. But the best part? The driver stopped several times along the hayride to show us different veggies grown on the farm, and even passed veggies around for the kids to touch and examine.

To say I have a child who LOVES vegetables is an understatement. She BEGS for tomatoes for dessert. She picks spinach out of my pasta fagioli soup, leaves the rest, and begs for more. We bribe her with veggie "treats" to get her to eat her meals.

So, imagine her delight when the farmer passed around fresh parsley (she ate an entire bunch), a green pepper (she grabbed it and ate it like an apple), and this "pickle", which she and her BFF actually fought over!

BFF's mom and I were chatting away when we suddenly heard lots of giggles and commotion. We looked to find that they were each eating said "pickle" with reckless abandon, and having the best. time. ever.

I was snapping away with my camera and did not realize until I uploaded my pics that I had captured the best shot ever.

Seriously - this one will forever by the one that makes me stop, laugh hysterically, and remember that day as if it were yesterday. I especially love the stalk of parsley (boy, did she have sweet breath!) held tightly in her little mittened hand!

MH - you never fail to make mommy smile, and in this case, laugh until my belly aches!

One more reason I'm the Mom

In our house, we play a fun little game I like to call one million 20 questions.

I'm sure you're quite familiar.

You know, the one where your child asks questions.

Lots of them.

Questions that make sense. Questions that don't make sense. Questions you can't answer. Questions you don't want to answer. Questions about questions.

Questions, questions, questions.

Once a minute in a while, I feel like one more question might just put me over the edge.

On these occasions, I've found that humor can go a long way in keeping me away from the bottle helping me stay sane.

I play a little game of role reversal and answer every question with a question.

Or, on days like today, spend the entire ride home from preschool asking the Mad Hatter non-stop questions, in the exact tone of voice she uses with me.

Since I'm usually so full of patience I only play this "game" once in a while, I always get a kick out of her reaction.

First, she gets all flustered and tries to answer the questions. Then she realizes I'm playing with her and gets a silly grin on her face.

And today, she says something like this:

"Hey! Why are you asking me a million questions? I'm not the mommy!"

Well. At least my role is still well-defined.

Got me giggling

Have any of you seen the mini-show on Noggin called Pepa and George?

I don't even know if you can call it a show - it's on for about 5 minutes.

Show or not, it's about 2 pigs who have an British accent.

And that's ALL I can tell you about it because every time it comes on, I can't stop giggling over the fact that the Mad Hatter walks around saying (in her own version of a British accent), "Mummy, it's Peppah and Gawwwwge".

Sheer hilarity.

The first time it came on and I asked what it was, I nearly fell over in hysterics upon hearing her pronunciation.

And being the ham (seriously, no pun intended) that she is, she has capitalized on her ability to send me into a fit of giggles and loves to carry on and on (whether the "show" is on or not). And who am I to stop her?

The irony is that the 5 minute short appears right after the other new pig show Toot and Puddle, which for some reason the MH also adores.

And a show that I will never look at in the same light after one day on Twitter, my friend @elainea (Elaine from The Miss Elaine-ous Life) said the title sounds more like a day of potty training in her house than the name of a show.

Elaine, you too are sheer hilarity!

Ooh, what's that? It really is pig hour! After a brief Peppah and Gawwwwge intermission, it appears we're back to another episode of potty training fun Toot and Puddle!

What's making you giggle this morning?

How to administer nasal spray to a preschooler.

So I've told you all how my poor little girl was diagnosed with pretty severe seasonal allergies. At least now we have some reason for the fact that every night she sounds like she might hack up a piece of lung (sorry for those with weak tummies, I am one of you).

On top of it all, it seems she's got a nasty cold that is exacerbating all the coughing. And of course, lying down makes it all worse (according to her pediatrician, she is "drowning in postnasal drip" - sorry for yet another icky visual but I can't get it out of my head, so I feel the need to share with anyone else who might be able to commisserate. Even a little.)

Anyways, after a thorough exam from said pediatrician (who MH publicly declared her love for at about a 10+ decibel upon entering the waiting room, causing fits of hysteria from everyone within earshot, which I'm not entirely unconvinced was the entire practice), I was given instructions to administer OTC Claritin or Zyrtec once a day, and told that she could highly benefit from a prescription nasal spray.

Pediatrician: How does she do with things being put up her nose?
Me: (wanting to say, how do you do with things being put up your nose, but refraining because I love our pediatrician): Well, she's not always the easiest to give meds to . . . I am guessing she might not handle it too well. BUT, she is obsessed with you, so maybe if you give her a pep talk . . .
Ped: Well, let's see how she does with the Flu Mist, and we'll go from there.

You have never seen anyone like MH when it comes to getting shots. The pediatrician left the room to get the flu "shot", and when she returned, MH proclaimed "I'm all ready! Look at my sleeve, it's all rolled up!".

I am proud of her enthusiasm. Last year, we prepped her by having her come along while my mom and I got our flu shots, and letting her ask as many questions as she wanted. Knowing she was scheduled for hers a week later, we really capitalized on the fact that we were getting this shot so we'd stay healthy, blahddy, blah blah.

For one of the few times in my career as a mom, it worked. Like a charm. That shot came at her, and she was ready - dare I even say, looking forward to getting it. She didn't flinch at all - in fact, she was more concerned about getting to pick her 3 stickers and a lollipop.

So, here we are this year, pulling the bait-and-switch AND using it as a test to see how she might respond to something up the nose on a daily basis.

She did okay. I wouldn't say she loved it (who would?), but anything for Dr. L.

So again, I capitalized on her love for Dr. L and told her the whole way home about how Dr. L was giving us some medicine that was going to help her feel a whole lot better, and it was going to be kind of like what Dr. L did at the office. In fact, Daddy, MH, and I could all do our nose medicine at the same time (poor thing - Daddy has awful allergies and Mommy has big-time sinus issues, it was inevitable). The family that sprays together, stays together.

I praised her for being so brave at the doctor's office.

I buttered her up more than Paula Deen butters, well, anything.

All was fine and good in theory until it was showtime. Then the curtain came crashing down. I honestly can't say I blame her, but I would like her to feel better and get a good night's sleep sometime this decade.

So, four nights in, I feel like an absolute pro, and I've got some advice for you on the best way to administer nasal spray to your not-so-cooperative preschooler.

1. Slice up some limes.
2. Grab a salt shaker.
3. Line up 3 shots of tequila.
4. Lick, slam, suck 1 of these shots.
5. Approach your child with trepidation. And bribery (we're still working with candy corn).
6. Try to reason with said child as s/he backs away from you and gives you every excuse under the sun for why you need to wait a few minutes (be careful - if they're smart enough, they'll say they want Daddy to do it, and then pull the same following routine with him, and you'll go back and forth, therefore doubling the time this job will take. This knowledge is quite useful once you know what you're up against).
7. Take some deep breaths and try some more.
8. Leave room and bang head on wall for 20 seconds.
9. Come back in and try to do a bit more reasoning. Get so close that you actually spray, but your child jerks back and the spray goes into his/her eye, causing complete and utter meltdown.
10. Try to explain that if s/he hadn't moved, this wouldn't have happened. Feel guilty that you don't even feel bad because it's true and you've already been at this little "game" for at least 10 minutes.
12. Leave hubby in the room to deal with the sobbing and overly-dramatic (and most-likely overtired) child while you go lick, slam, and suck another.
13. Come back and tell your child that if they don't want their medicine, it's fine, you'll just let the doctor know they didn't want to take it and feel better. Experience another fit of hysterics, this time with your child begging for you to spray the stuff up their nose.
14. Calm child down, explain again that this will take 2 seconds, but they can not move. Explain that this is the fourth night in a row you've done this and they're getting better each time! Why is this time any different?
15. Give child boo-boo bunny (actually a stuffed dog, but hey, s/he named it) to hold, pray s/he doesn't move (which will happen a few more times out of pure reflex), aim, shoot, fire. 3 times in the right nostril because s/he keeps moving back every time you spray, leaving the medication on her cheek instead of in her nose).
16. Try not to laugh at his/her interpretation of "okay, take a nice deep breath in! PERFECT!!!", praise WILDLY, and know you will go through the same exact routine tomorrow night.
17. Pray silently that as your child gets older, they don't ever enjoy things going up their nose, and secretly feel completely guilty because this is definitely not fun for anyone and you know you would freak if someone was doing this to you.
18. Leave hubby to read stories and snuggle while you go lick, slam, and suck down tequila shot number 3.
19. Stumble back into room, tell child how proud you are, give huge kiss and hug goodnight, and amble to your own bedroom to promptly fall into bed from sheer exhaustion.
20. Take a silent oath to yourself that tomorrow night is Daddy's turn, and you'll be happy to play bartender.

If anyone has easier instructions (come on, I just know there is some doctor or nurse reading this blog!), please feel free to share! Otherwise, I urge you to use mine - they seem to be working out just fabulously for all of us!

Medical advice from a preschooler.

I must preface this post by saying that it is 12:02AM and The Mad Hatter just went to bed (after an hour-long dramatic affair involving mommy trying to administering Flonase (more on this later), getting into our jammies, reading stories, finishing milk, and going through our snuggle routine.

We are not horrible parents, which I think my readers would agree with.

MH has been suffering from what was just diagnosed as horrible seasonal allergies, on top of being plagued with a horrible cough and cold.

For the first time in a long time, she napped this afternoon. For about 4 hours. We took it.

And so, knowing that bedtime would not come early, we took the opportunity to have a family date night - complete with dinner at Panera (you've never seen someone eat Broccoli Cheddar soup till you've watched the Mad Hatter go at a crock), some unplanned yet unbelieveable bargain finds at the as-I-type liquidating Linens 'N Things, and finally, a trip to Borders so Mommy could browse while Daddy could bribe.

We had a fabulous night.

Yet I digress, I was talking about medical advice from an almost 4 year old.

Lately, MH has been pushing it a bit by screaming for one of us shortly after we leave her room.
She's all underhandedly adorable and manipulative about justifying our frustated return to her room with an "I love you" or "I just wanted to tell you, You're the Best!".

Tonight she yelled for Daddy, who is downstairs doing some laundry (yet another reason why I love him so).

I went back in and asked what she needed. The following conversation ensued:

Me: (slighly stern) What is it MH? It's very late and you should be sleeping. Daddy is doing laundry right now.
MH: I just wanted to tell daddy about something, but you can give him the message. I need you to do something, okay Mommy?
Me: (slightly wanting to giggle, slightly annoyed): What do you need me to do?
MH: Daddy has a boo-boo on his elbow (editor's note: severely dry skin), so I need you to get him some of the good stuff to make it feel better.
Me: (supressing laughter) OK, I'll make sure to take care of it. Love you.
MH: Mommy, you need to get him the good stuff, and you need to get it at Target.
Me: OK, will do. Love you.
MH: Mommy, I need you to take care of it for me and I need you to do it tomorrow morning, okay?
Me: Okay.

Late bedtime in this house does not equal the late wakeup it did during the earlier years. I'm wondering if at 7AM, I'll be getting pulled out of bed to get ready for that run to Target.

Did I mention that earlier this evening she told me she'd had a nightmare last night but was a brave girl and stayed in her room?

When I asked her what the nightmare was about, she told me she dreamt her elbows hurt.

The girl's got elbows on the brain.

And now, she's given me one more excuse to visit Target.

Add one more to the many reasons I love my little doctor princess.

Overheard . . .

MH is wearing an adorable new (ok, I bought it 2 months ago and she's just now wearing it for the first time) outfit today.

The pants are the best - multi-colored horizontal stripes, wide leg.

The kind of pants that should only be worn by little girls - so cute!

I should also note that SHE picked them out and I helped her find a shirt to match.

Me: (after she's all dressed) You look so cute! Don't you just love your new pants?
MH: Not really . . . but I do love the colors.

MH - you always find a way to crack me up. Even though you have oodles (yes DH, I know that's a mild understatement), only you could pick something to wear and then tell me you're not crazy about it.

Update: The latest "overheard": "I love my cute new pants!!!". Girls. Always changing their minds.

Ruh-Roh

Daddy dropped his laptop down the stairs tonight, and it went SPLAT! (how exactly this happened, we're all still unsure, this is such a Mommy move)

Yes, SPLAT.

Right on the first step.

According to MH, who had to call Sweetheart and Poppy to share this insane news.

She was running up and down the stairs showing them exactly where the poor computer fell.

Then she told them it would be okay. But, SPLAT! Just like that! See it?!?

DH is in the middle of a freakout and I was laughing so hard at her reaction I made him get out the camcorder.

And he did.

Saintly, if you ask me. I would have smacked me.

Hear that DH? I just called you a saint. Own it right now, it's your moment in the sun!

Thank goodness for insurance - with a three year old in the house, it's a no-brainer.

Strangely, said laptop is functioning, but cracked all over.

And Compaq's servers are down indefinitely. As they told him after he held for an hour.

It'll all be ok - MH said so.

It's rather interesting - MH's Barbie dolls do amazing SPLATS too.

Overheard . . .

Since my computer is right here, and I seem to have a memory problem I just had to share.

I was standing at the stove making scrambled "chopped" eggs eggies for MH.

You know, one of the things that makes me the best mommy e-ver!

MH was watching a Dora episode about Halloween.

All of a sudden Dora declares "You scared me!"

To which MH replies?

"You scared me too, Dora!"

As though she were right here in our kitchen ready for breakfast.

Ah the things that brighten my day . . .

It can't be wrong if we BOTH heard it!

I was awakened today by my little monkey MH, climbing all over me.


This is not really much different than usual.


She is a tiny thing, really - at three and a half she weighs about 31 pounds fully clothed.

BUT, those 31 pounds really hurt this easily bruising, recovering from a spinal fusion mommy. I end up bracing myself, which in turn hurts my back, and it's just never a good thing.

Because the throws her whole 31 pound body into me, with all her little might.

She's not doing it to hurt me - she is just very excited to be with her mommy and wants to express love. But we've told her over, and over, and over that she just can't do that!

She can snuggle with me, cuddle with me, whatever - but there is no running and crashing into me, no climbing all over me in bed, no being on top of me.

Alas my pleas goes unheard on a daily basis.

I have so many little bruises one might think I've been suffering spousal abuse.

I digress.

This morning, the little darling climbed up, and on her way over me to the other side of the bed, kneed me right in the lower stomach.

If you're like me, you really have to pee first thing in the morning - badly. I should correct myself here and note that I got kneed in the stomack and bladder.

I almost wet my pants. For real.

Daddy instantly reprimanded her, but I've decided that it's not enough. I told her to go in her room and take a time out.

She cried hysterically, carried on, and went to sit on her bed in the semi-dark. This went on for several minutes, which is actually pretty unusual. She normally takes her time outs like a woman.

I finally went in to ask her to calm down, and explain again that she was just taking a break because she cannot continue that behavior and needs to learn that there will be consequences if she does.

She instantly stopped crying, and I told her I'd let her know when she could come out.

A couple of minutes later, a tiny voice calls from her room "Daddy, can I have a fuckin' rest?"

We both heard it. DH was in the kitchen and came running down the hall with this hilarious and incredulous look on his face. "What did she just say?" he asked me. I had the same dumbfounded look on my face.

Daddy calmly called "what did you just say?"

And her answer again: "Can I have a fuckin' rest?"

We looked at each other, unsure of what to do, besides dissolve in fits of laughter.

He whispered "where would she get that from?" and although we both know I have an affinity for the "F" word, I don't use it around her.

He finally went into her room and asked her one more time what she said.

She was standing at her bookcase and repeated a final time "Can I have a book and rest?"

Perfect sense.

And while I know she'll eventually learn those words, I'm glad we seem to have dodged a bullet for now.

From the mouth of my babe . . .

Recent conversation with the Mad Hatter:

Me: (giving her a huge squeeze) Oooh, I just love you, love you, love you!
MH: (in her most adorable little voice): Why do you love me so much?
Me: Because I do! You're just so CUTE! You're my little peanut!
MH: Oh.

a few seconds pass . . .

MH: But mommy, boys have that!
Me: absolute hysterics.

Maybe we need a little more work on our comprehension of anatomy.

Intervention Required

I think it is quite possible that I am an addict.

Yes, we've all chatted about it in one blog post or another.

The blog addiction.

Reading. Writing. Doing the happy dance when receiving comments.

Making and learning about new friends.

Yes, I have made no excuses for my blog addiction.

I am perfectly okay with it.

However . . .

Until recently, my computer addiction was limited to blogging, emailing, and web surfing.

No interest whatsoever in any of that MySpace or Facebook BS.

Who has the time?

Why bother?

I have a husband and a beautiful daughter.

I have great friends and manage to stay in touch with them.

I love my life.

These places are for the late teen, early twenty-something girls who babysit for MH.

College kids.

Post-college kids who haven't grown up yet.

To be honest, I've peeked at some MySpace pages.

If you have one, please take no offense when I say that some of them just plain seem like a waste of time.

Yes, some people use them as a way to update friends and loved ones about their lives. Great!

(I like my blog for that).

But some of them just seem "pimped-out". And silly.

Do I need that?

I don't have any more time to wastespend on the computer than I already do.

Or do I?

I happened to receive an email from my alma mater Ithaca College the other day.

Ithaca College - We're On Facebook!

There is no logical explanation for what made me click the link right then.

But I did.

And I needed an account to see the page.

And all I had to do was give them an email address and my name.

Could it really be so bad?

Let's just say that at about 2 full days later, I am a self-professed Facebook "whore"***.

At first I felt devious. Like I was stalking people.

Do I post a picture of myself in my profile? Any of my family?

Is it odd to email someone after not speaking to them for 15 years?

Is there really a point?

Well, I say . . .

STILL FINDING OUT!

I will say this - I now have a serious Facebook addiction. I have it bad.

I have found people I haven't spoken to in forever.

Will we become great friends?

I doubt it.

However, there is an amazing little thing about Facebook.

FRIEND FINDER.

So now I've connected with some old peeps, and Facebook is giving me a list of other people I might know!

Technology. It's unbelieveable.

And then there's the giddiness of people finding you and requesting that you be their friend.

My friends, it's kind of like the comment happy dance.

It's not so much about where it's coming from, it's that someone is interested in you!

And so, for the past 2 days I have neglected my blog so I could spend every spare moment checking to see what new requests and notifications await me.

And randomly thinking of people who might be on there and who I might want to get in touch with, just because I can.

And of course getting all giddy when new people write to me and ask me what's going on in my life.

And even giddier when I find that we have a mutual friend, and figuring out what the connection is.

Remember the post where I told you about my 16th birthday being one of my most favorite memories ever?

I was on a cross-country teen tour.

A friend from that trip 17 summers ago found me through a mutual friend we share here in RI.

And, her SIL and BIL live in Providence!

So there is definitely something to be said for all of the hype - I was and am still floored!

I will say this - I don't want to be the mean girl.

A girl I went to high school with sent me a friend request. I barely knew her, but accepted.

She keeps trying to send me "gifts", and asking for "food", and other things I don't quite get.

I keep hitting the ignore button.

I'm thinking that people like her are the reason I resisted Facebook and the likes in the first place.

My guess is too much time and not enough to do on her hands.

And although I did get a little caught up in taking a SATC which girl are you quiz (Charlotte), that's about as far as I go.

Besides using it to reconnect with old friends.

However, there is only so much time in one day.

And soon, Fall TV is coming.

I have a feeling that I'm going to have a new addiction very soon - time management skills.

So friends, I have eaten my words, caved and joined the revolution.

And I'll be looking for you on Facebook!

***Mom, (Dad - not that you really need it), and Grandma - I use the term whore as a current pop catch-phrase, please forgive me as I know you're cringing right now.

You Don't Bring Me Flowers . . .

You don't sing me love songs.

OK, not completely true.

Hubby does surprise me occasionally with flowers.

And quite frankly, I prefer the "just because" of it to getting them for a special occasion.

But The Mad Hatter seems to have come up with a much better way of doing things.

Such a good idea, in fact, that I think if she shared her idea with her Daddy, I'd get flowers all the time.

She's a one stop shopping source - flowers and vase at the ready.

And even some for Daddy!

And why was I so lucky to get these purple flowers on this specific day?

She does mention something about the alarm going off at Uncle Dave's - which did happen that day and made quite an impression on her as she was right there in the thick of all of it, complete with "dat nice lady who sitted wif me on da steps and maked me better" (aka police lady who came because the alarm company automatically calls).

She was completely freaked out by all the loud noise and for the next 2 days everything she said was punctuated by some random comment about the big episode.

I'm just going to assume that her little mind was in overdrive from the day's excitement.

She was all over the place that afternoon, and more full of chatter than usual.

Notice the "strawberries" she's eating? They came from Trader Joe's (on the way home from Uncle Dave's) and right before she gave me those flowers, we had a lovely chat about all the "cool stuff dey have at Trader Joe's - like tuna fish, and cookies, and bananas". I've yet to see a can of tuna fish at TJ's, but maybe I just haven't been looking hard enough.

After the video? She gathered many BLUE! flowers for daddy because he LIKES BLUE! flowers.

She was pretty adamant

Who knew?

Moral of the story: Mommies, if you want to receive flowers more frequently, get your kids to tell Daddy about the MH way. In this economy they're a great deal AND they never die!

Taking orders

So my grandma, AKA MH's GiGi lives in Florida for about 8 months out of the year, and comes home for the summer until October. She just got home last night and she and her friend came to my parents house for dinner tonight so we could all spend some time together.

Of course, the MH was completely spoiled with a ton of new outfits that are absolutely adorable and not at all needed (not that we have a problem with that around here - especially since she now feels the need to change her outfit a few times a day when we are at home, just because she can!). She also got a fabulous new pocketbook (definitely one of her favorite things) and some other toys. She is one lucky little girl.

Anyways, she was a little hyped up from all the attention, and the fact that she didn't refused to take a nap. I also don't think that Daddy shooting whipped cream straight into her mouth (or the whipped cream tower on her chocolate chip cookie) did much to help the situation!

Anyways, she was riled up, repeating what people were saying, but in with silly rhymes that made no sense. And since we were dining on the deck, she kept running in and out of the house.

At one point as we were all coming inside, I told her to calm down.

She turned around and said "Mommy, settle down! Everybody else is being quiet!"

While the statement made no sense in the situation, and was a bit on the fresh side (she was pretty bossy about it), I had to turn my head to keep from laughing.

Guess she showed me who's giving orders!

Another reason I love being a Mom

Overheard in our car tonight as I strapped MH into her carseat after our second trip of the day to Target:

MH: Mommy, you're an angel.

Me: I'm an angel? Thanks MH!

MH: Yeah Mommy, you're an angel because you love shopping.

Daddy was busy returning our cart.

Know why I love being a mom even more?

She repeated it when he got in the car.

I'll have what she's having . . .

We had some errands to run tonight and figured we'd stop off for a bite to eat. The Mad Hatter really enjoys going to South of the Border for the kids' nachos, and quite frankly, I rather enjoy their margaritas.

We happened to be driving by when she exclaimed, "It's the nacho place! I'm just CRAZY of nachos!!! Can we eat there?"

Who could say no to that?

We get inside and place our order. I ordered a drink and meal for her, a margarita and meal for myself, and DH placed his order.

Without missing a beat, right as DH finished, MH turns to the waitress and says, "And my Mommy will have a Mommy Juice".

Care to venture a guess at the definition of Mommy Juice?

You guessed it! When MH tries to grab a sip of anything with alcohol in it, I tell her it's Mommy Juice. We have discussed the fact that Mommy or Daddy Juice is special for grown-ups only because it can hurt little girls and boys. And the explanation has worked just perfectly.

So I sheepishly explained our little drink code to the server, who got a big laugh out of the whole thing (and probably thinks I am quite the lover of all things alcohol since my child is doing my ordering for me - the ironic part is, I'm really not a huge drinker at all!).

When she walked away, I asked MH why she ordered me a Mommy Juice.

Her answer?

(spoken with such pride)

"Because I just know how much you love it, Mommy!"

The things that come out of her mouth these days - on an hourly basis - will never cease to amaze me.

Or crack me up.

Driving Lessons

Tonight my hubby and Dad had a meeting for an organization they belong to, so MH, Sweetheart, and I had a little girls's night out planned. We were on our way for a bite to eat, and to drop by a friend's house.

First, let me give you some details of relevance:

1. We live at the top of a hill with 4 stop signs on the street we take down to the main road.
2. We were on our way down that street.
3. My mother drives like a saint. I swear, if she hits a mile over the speed limit, she takes her foot off the gas. It's actually somewhat annoying to drive with someone who follows the rules of the road so steadfastly (is that even a word?) and she takes quite a lot of (loving) abuse from our family about it. But seriously, she's an excellent driver. Rainman would approve.
4. MH's carseat in my Mom's car is right in the middle of the back seat, giving her the perfect view of the road in front of her.
5. There was a car about one stop sign ahead of us.
6. The license plate was AMEN. That part isn't so relevant, I just for some reason found it humorous.

And so the conversation went:

MH: Sweetheart, don't hit that car in front of you!
Sweetheart: Honey, of course I'm not going to hit the car in front of us.
MH: Well, I don't want you to hit that car in front of us because I don't want you to hurt the front of your car.
Sweetheart: Sweetie, you know what? More than anything, I would never want anyone inside of this car to get hurt. That's the really important part. I always want to make sure that you and Mommy are safe.
MH: (after a pause) Yeah. I just telled you that because I really didn't want you to hurt your car.

Lucky for us, Sweetheart continued to be a perfect chauffeur, no car accidents ensued, and we had a lovely evening together.

AMEN.

3-year old logic

One of the gazillion reasons I am loving the Mad Hatter this weekend . . .

Yesterday I was having what we call a "coma" day around here.

This is what we've dubbed those days where my body just hits a road block and I literally cannot wake myself up or muster any energy to get out of bed. They usually happen after a few days of trying to do too much (or in this case, a few days of rest followed by one day of doing too much).

DH (or Mom, depending on what day of the week it is) is fabulous when this happens, and did a great job of keeping the MH entertained. They went to Johnny Rocket's for lunch, did a few errands, and came home and had a nap, most of which without my even realizing it.

When MH woke up from her nap (blissful, the 2nd one in two days since she's been on a nap boycott), DH opened the door to our bedroom to slowly get me stirring.

MH got very indignant about not waking me. My eyes opened to loud yelling. "Daddy, you're going to wake Mommy! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO don't go in your bathroom, you're going to wake Mommy - use MYYYYYYYYYYYYYY bathroom!"

DH knew my eyes were already opening, and I was quietly giggling while dying to hear how the scenario would play out.

The idea that our little girl was being so fiercely protective of my need for sleep and rest was incredibly endearing - the fact that I woke up because of her yelling and carrying on to her Daddy about it, and not his actual walking into our bedroom was priceless.

The best part was when Daddy got the cold shoulder as MH incorporated one of our favorite tactics - disappointment in his behavior. She told him "Daddy, I'm very sad that you're using your bathroom because you're GOING to wake Mommy!"

At a deafening 10+ on the noise scale.

At the foot of my bed.

All the while, having no concept of the fact that she was the one doing the waking.

3-year olds and their logic - there actually are days when I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world!

Open Letter

Dear Blogosphere,

We need to talk.

I'll admit it, I am totally and utterly in love with you. Butt-ass crazy (to coin a term from my friend Pam) in love. It happened fast and furiously and out of nowhere. Well, not nowhere - a good friend did send me a link to a blog and told me to check it out. I didn't have to listen to her, but I did. From that moment, I've become a hopeless case.

I think of you day and night. I think I even dream of you. I cannot get enough of you. I'm even fine with the fact that we're not exclusive. There's plenty of you to go around, and I have no problem sharing with the other ladies both inside and out of Bloggywood. In fact, I'd be doing them a disservice if I didn't share you!

The problem is, the more you give me, the more I want. And boy, are you a giver. Never, have I EVER had a relationship with someone so giving. Almost too giving. Just when I think I've gotten my fill, you offer me more.

My laptop taunts me every time I see it - open me, open me! Just one click! Don't you want to hear what McMommy has come up with today? And while you're there, it only takes a few seconds to leave a comment. You have to leave a comment! Wait! McMommy posted about you?!? Well, you MUST write about that - you're nearly a celebrity in Bloggeritaville if she's talking about you! And all those other fab peeps McMommy wrote about, well if you're not already reading them and she thinks they're worthy, shouldn't you? How can you not add them to your reader? You don't want to miss the boat, do you?

Blogosphere, I do love me some good blog. And let me tell you that there is NOTHING better than a good blog. I could blog all day and night. And lately it seems that I am doing just that. But I'm starting to get a bit worried - can too much bloggity-blog become too much of a good thing? I mean, my husband and daughter know all about us, and are surprisingly fine with our relationship. But you're just.so.good. I don't know how much more good I can take. I'm starting to worry that I might be addicted to you.

You and I have the perfect relationship, and such chemistry! I know I can always depend on you. I know you'll always be there for me, giving me all you've got and then some. You make me laugh, you make me cry (but in a good way), you have great taste, and you are such a great teacher. Best of all, I haven't gained an ounce since we got together! I take that back because it's not entirely true, I've gained a lot of bloggy friends and funny tales to share. But I feel like I am starting to think of you and only you, and maybe neglecting a few other things that require my attention.

I mean, I do have a family. They need to eat. The Mad Hatter needs attention. And Hubby, well poor hubby - he has taken to a relationship with the Wii, specifically Mario Kart. When I'm feeling really guilty about my love for you, I go down and play a few courses with him. I always end up in last place, which makes me sad. Then I come back to you because I just know you'll always have something to make me happy.

But I do need to get my rest - you know what the doctor said about my recovery! My morning showers are getting shorter and shorter. I'd rather catch a fix than do my makeup! And forget about things like straightening the house, reading my real books, doing the crafts I once loved so. I just can't seem to be bothered. Last night in the middle of the thunder and lightning, I was worrying about whether we'd lose power and then my laptop battery would die. I don't think this obsession is healthy.

Oh Blogosphere, what's a girl to do?

If you have any ideas, please let me know. Until then, I'm going to continue to accept your unconditional love, selfless giving, and all the other wonderful things that make you YOU, In the short time we've been together, I've become so dependent on you, and I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life. Maybe one day you can help me find a blog that will teach me a bit more about time management.

Or, Bloggers Anonymous.

My name is Rachael, and I am a Blogoholic. And proud of it.

With my deepest love and affection,

Rachael