Nice one.

Today for our Advent gift, I got Shirley and Richard cat chase toys that have a fish attached to a string, which is attached to a pole. They look an awful lot like fishing poles and my children were thrilled.
They also look an awful lot like a torture device after an hour or so of having them whipped around the living room.
Good thinking, Mommy.

Santa and Jesus

Erin: It's fun to talk about Santa, isn't it?
Shirley: YEAH!
E: Does Santa bring toys to good or bad children?
SJ: Only GOOD kids.
E: What happens if you are naughty?
SJ: [silence.]
E: Do naughty kids get toys?
SJ: Nooooo.
E: You know what's special about Jesus?
SJ: He's REAL!
E: Yeah! He's real! And you know what else? You don't have to be good to receive his gifts! Jesus gives his gift to anyone who wants it.
SJ: Ok, Mom.

-a few minutes later-

SJ: Mom? What about reindeer?

I'm not really the kind of girl who wears toe rings.

When we moved in to our house five years ago, I found this broken earring in the carpet. We had out-of-town company shortly after we moved in, so I have saved it all this time in case someone asked me if I found their sterling silver and sapphire earring.

Imagine my surprise when Shirley taught me the real purpose for this "earring."

Child Proof

Misshapen

I am finally able to write about this without crying, cussing or grimacing (mostly).
Four to six weeks ago, I went to get my eyebrows threaded (if you don't know what that means, google it).
Now, let me just say that getting my eyebrows done is a pretty frivolous expense for me since I really don't have a lot of eyebrows to work with. Essentially, my eyebrows are clear. BUT, I can't see to do my own very well (because I am 70 years old), so it's nice to put my face in the hands of a professional.
So...like I said, four to six weeks ago, I went to get my eyebrows threaded. We had walked around the mall with some friends and stopped for a treat at McDonald's (for Shirley: a strawberry milkshake and for me: an iced coffee) on our way to the eyebrow threading place.
Upon arriving, I told Shirley not to spill her ice cream and please be quiet, we'll be done in a minute, right before I spilled most of my enormous iced coffee all over the floor.
The threading lady said, "There is a SIGN! No food allowed!"
I said, "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!"
She said, "There's a SIGN! You spilled your coffee on the floor!"
I said, "I'm so sorry!"
She said, "THERE'S A SIGN!"
I said, "I didn't see the sign! I'm so sorry!"
She said, "NO FOOD ALLOWED!"
I said, "Well, it's TOO LATE NOW! Do you want me to clean it up or WHAT?"
She then proceeded to hand me ONE paper towel.
From there, the details are hazy, but I distinctly remember her snatching the pink milkshake out of stunned Shirley's hand and setting it on a faraway counter.
And after that, I got in her chair and let her decimate my face.
I don't know why I did it, but I think I was just so embarrassed and startled that she would shriek at me the way she did that I just got in the chair to make it stop.
So for the last four to six weeks I have had to bear the shame of not seeing the NO FOOD ALLOWED sign and spilling my coffee on the floor ...in the middle of my face.

The checkout lady said it happens all the time.

Last night, Shirley and I went on an adventure to buy a snail for Fishmael's tank.
We had a great time looking at all the fishies, rats, mice, snakes and hamsters at the pet store.
We made our purchases and cruised back around to look at the fish one more time and Shirley promptly wet her pants.
One minute we were watching the eels dance and the next minute she was walking around like a little cowgirl.
I thought it might be a cold ride home for Shirley, but she cheerfully told me all about while sitting on a plastic bag and some paper towels, munching on a dog cookie.

Another VERY close call.

Erin: Shirley, do you want fish sticks for dinner?
Shirley [looks at Fishmael]: What?! Mama, Fishmael is not a stick! You silly goofy.
Erin [sweating bullets]: Chicken, then! Let's have chicken.

SHIRLEY! NINETY-SEVEN! GO!

Shirley and I had a very stern talk yesterday about touching outlets. Today, Baby Richard and I had the same talk. Now Shirley feels smug and superior while Baby's feelings are hurt.
I can't help but feel like I'm repeating myself an awful lot. Not to mention, if Shirley is still inclined to touch outlets, and I'm just starting to teach Richard now...I may be saying this for a long time. Follow me?
I am thinking of writing these oft-repeated mom-isms down, almost like a playbook.
For instance,
Rule #1: Obey the first time you are asked.
Rule #2: No whining.
Rule #3: Don't hit.
Rule #4: Don't touch outlets.
So on and so forth...
Then, when I'm in the middle of something, I can just call out, "Shirley! SEVENTEEN!" And she'll jump up and make dinner.

And then I broke out in cold sweat.

Shirley: Daddy, I can have more chicken?
Richard: Sure, but this isn't chicken. This is...
Erin: Don't do it.
Rich: ...PIG!
SJ: What?
Erin: Nooooo...not tonight.
SJ: Daddy! This is meat.
Rich: No, it's pig.
Erin: Richard! Stop it! NOT. TONIGHT.
SJ: Daddy, stop. You silly.
Rich: Ok, Shirley, you're right. It's chicken.
SJ: No, Daddy. There's no animals. This is meat!
Erin: Yes! It's meat.
Rich: It's meat.
SJ: Yummmmmy. I can have dip?

The Potatoes have eyes!

Daddy has so defiled Mrs. Potato Head that Shirley will not

*will not*

touch her.

For your reference: "Outside" is now called "Commando."

Erin: Shirley, let's put on your underpants.
Shirley: NO!
Erin: Ok, how about a diaper?
Shirley: NO!
Erin: Well it has to be one or the other.
Shirley: NO!
Richard: Do you want to go commando?
Shirley: YEAH! Let's go commando, Daddy! Take her! Take her commando! Let's go!

Curious

Erin: How does this one end? I've seen the beginning like ten times, but never the end.
Richard: Oh, you know. There's a misunderstanding. George gets in trouble. George saves the day.

TECH.NOL.O.GY.

This morning I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth (a rarity in itself) when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shirley hoist something up and try to lug it out of the bathroom without my seeing. Yes, it was her potty chair. Yes, my whole life flashed before my eyes when I imagined all the germs she was hoisting along with her potty.
I turned around to remedy the situation with my toothbrush still in my mouth. I got the potty chair put back where it goes and scurried SJ out into the living room and turned back to see my phone--still on--under the running faucet.
I sure hope it turns back on. Richard says he has an old Motorola Razr I can use if it won't turn back on. Talk about the dark ages. Ugh.

Christ is Risen!

Ode to a Toddler

My pre-two year old can not come play,

she has not got her way.

There are not enough cookies

what happened to all the nookies?

A hurricane in my house

she is never quiet as a mouse.

Publicly humiliating mama

who needs TV drama?

If I say no more Nemo

she gets all sad and emo.

Shirley Jean will see you at kindergarten

and not a moment before then.

What difference does it really make?

I drove to Eau Claire last night to have dinner with my parents (because going to the Minnesota State Fair wasn't enough activity for me in one day). While we were at the table, Shirley filled her diaper, which I noticed approximately 60 seconds before my parents.
My mom said, "Erin...do you have really bad gas?"
I said, "Yes."
She said, "Did you just...?"
I said, "NO! It's Shirley's diaper! Jeez!"

It's always the last place you look.

Or at least it shows up once you stop looking...under a sock.

Something to think about:

As a writer--or, more aptly--as someone who knows how to correctly spell some common phrases, watching my child learn to speak is incredibly interesting. Enthralling. Terrifying.
Over the past couple of months, Shirley has begun to mimic our speech patterns and intonations perfectly, until recently, when I discovered that she is actually saying words.
The catch is that they aren't real words. They are words as she perceives them.
When heard from across the room, "nope," is "nope." But upon closer inspection, Shirley is not actually saying the English-spelled-out-word "nope." She's saying "ope," or sometimes, "mope." This is interesting to me because the phonetic "puh" sound involves both lips coming together (there's a real name for it), which she has not done at ALL until now. This is the same reason she has yet to say "Mama" (besides the fact that God thinks it's funny to watch me keep trying to teach her to use BOTH of her lips when phrasing sounds to make words). "What's this?" is actually "HUTSiss," "Yep" is actually, "Gep," and "the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain," is ... just kidding.

There are starving kids in China!

Food I have thrown out in the last 24 hours:
-one-half of a graham cracker
-two eggs (scrambled)
-two animal crackers
-seven Goldfish crackers
-8+ ounces of milk (white, vitamin D)
-Organic Baby Harvest Greens (3oz)
-4 ounces of juice (V8 Splash)
-at least two handfuls of Cheerios

I guess I never realized how much food a mommy throws away in the course of a day.

p.s. Methinks it's time to start pouring smaller cups of milk!
p.p.s. I don't ALWAYS throw away the uneaten Cheerios...I'm starting to think those things could survive a nuclear holocaust.
p.p.p.s. TWO EGGS! What was I thinking making TWO eggs???

50

Happy Birthday (weekend), Mom!!!

I love you very much.

p.s. You are very good at staying out of the camera's way. This is the ONLY photo I have of you holding SJ since Christmas!