EverAfterLand

Cover Your Ears!!!

Have you ever heard the wild scream of the banshee, up close and personal?  The ear piercing pitch that can be heard for miles?  The shrill screech that can drown out ambulances and firetrucks?

I have.  And it came out as a four-letter word more horrible and disgusting then Rachel at Following in My Shoes could ever dare imagine.

It sounded something like this:

"MINE!  MIIIIINE!!  MMMMiiiiiIIIIIIIIINNNNE!!!!!!"

It started innocently enough, out in the backyard of Grandma's house, blowing bubbles.  "bUbbas," is how my once-innocent darling pronounces it.  Back when she was cute.

But she wasn't getting any bubbles out.  And she was rapidly becoming frustrated.  Granpop stepped in to help, taking the bubble wand from her tiny hands and waving it through the air, large, happy bubbles emerging from it.

That's when it happened.  The day the world changed forever.  Dark, ominous clouds blotted out the sun and lightning flashed in the distance.  The wind howled, pelting us with leaves and small chipmunks.  Miss Priss was lifted off the ground by some demonic force, eyes blazing, hair standing on end as if electrocuted, and from the depths of hell, through her small vocal chords, past her sweet bow of a mouth came a screech, a wail, the cry of the banshee....

"MMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNE!!!!!!!!"

We dropped to the ground and covered our ears, unsure of where such a fearsome sound had come from.  How could my angel, my Shirley Temple look-alike, produce such a horrific noise? 

And then she did it again. 

Our new household phrase is "you have to SHARE."  She has no idea what this means.  Everything is now "hers." 

"My bebe (that's what she named her paci)."

"My bear."

"My water."

"My book."   "That's mommy's book."  "MiiiIIIIIIIIINE!!"

And with the birth of the Banshee, goes extinct the Generous Mom.  The Mom that wanted to get her little angel anything and everything that she thought would make her happy.  Generous Mom can only produce Spoiled Brat Banshees.  From the ashes of Generous Mom, rises a new, more strict version of mom, the Stingy Mom.  The mom that's so mean, she won't get her Brat Banshee anything.  And is rumored to secretly enjoy it.

Oh well.  It was fun while it lasted.

Poor Baby!

My poor lil' baby girl was siiiiick!  She woke up Sunday morning with a low-grade fever, which continued through Monday.  Once again, it has been two weeks since her last vaccination.  Coincidence?  I'm starting to think, no.  But that's a conversation for a different day.  Today my poor baby is siiiick!  Last time she was ill, she was puking had stomach-flu like symptoms, so this time around, I was more then a little nervous that we'd be reduced to pedialyte and crackers for another week.  And if you don't know this already, let me warn you, NOBODY is willing to babysit a puke-y baby!  But I need have no fear, she had the fever and was sluggish and tired, but that was it.  Not even a runny nose in sight!  Last night I was eating dinner on the couch and she was hanging out on her little pink princesses couch that Sissy had given her last Christmas.

And she was quiet.

Way too quiet.

I finally peeked over the coffee table to see what was going on, and this is what I found...
                                       
I swear, she does make it into bed BEFORE going to sleep every once in a while!  Poor thing.  So here's how the rest of the night went.

She woke up screaming at about 10pm, and when I got to her, half her body was damp.  She had been sweating and it was the side she was sleeping on.  But initially, I was panicked, thinking, "please don't be throw-up, please don't be throw-up!"  So I gave her some Tylenol to get her fever back down and put her back in bed.

At some horrific-my-eyes-aren't-open-enough-to-see-the-clock time of the morning she woke up again.  This time she was soaked.  Her whole body, like she'd just come out of the shower.  Even with the Tylenol, she was still overheating.  She wasn't suffering from an emergency-room-grade fever, half the problem was that she has no air conditioning in her room, so the little temp she had was exacerbated by her room being stuffy and humid.  I put her in a new diaper and t-shirt and brought her to my room, where the window A/C unit had been running all day, so it was cooler. 

From there we both slept horribly the rest of the night, each one waking up the other.  Finally we managed to get some sleep, but I had to turn on the A/C in my room cause it was HOT!  We slept like that, off and on. 

At a more agreeable time (I don't know when, but there was daylight outside), Priss woke up for the day, but just laid there and then started playing with a bra (cause you know when hubby is away, his side is taken up with discarded clothes, and I think she's been wondering what the heck that thing is for!) and she let me sleep.  Eventually, I was feeling awake for the day, too, and looked at the clock.  9:00!!!  Woah Baby!!!  Girlfriend rarely ever sleeps past 7:30! 

We got up and she's acting like her normal perky self and there doesn't seem to be a fever in sight.  Yipee!  Only two days and we're already out of the woods!

At least, I think.....

The Peace Process

I think we now have peace in the land once more!  After posting about Miss Priss' snub of her grandmother, I received a post from Rachel over at Following In My Shoes suggesting that Grandma is being "punished" for leaving her.  My Aunt Lori had come to that same conclusion after hearing what had happened.  It seems Priss, having no sense of space or time or distance, was under the impression that Grandma had left us!  That, of course, was not the case.  We were the ones that drove off into the sunrise (we were headed East after all!), leaving Grandma to cry until we got back.  So last night, Priss, MIL and I went over to Grandma's for dinner.  When Grandma had Priss alone, sitting on the stairs, she explained that Priss was the one that left her and how much Grandma missed her while she was gone.  And it worked!  Priss had lots of fun last night with BOTH her grandmas and even gave kisses when we had to go.  So all is right in the world again!

In other news, I have been "tagged!"  Annette at Under the Loupe was the culprit!  So now I am to list six of my quirks and then send the tag on.  Here they are!

1. My VW Passat is named Polly.

2. I get irritated when Priss bends the pages of her books.  I tell her not to do that and smooth them out again!

3. I have a yard service do the grass while hubby is gone.  I consider it "his job" and refuse to touch it.

4. I don't buy myself a lot of clothes, under the probably improbable idea that I'm going to lose weight.  But my shopping habit has to be funneled somewhere.  Consequently, Miss Priss has quite an extensive wardrobe.

5. If there's a new flashy workout video and/or gadget, I've probably got it. 

6. As much as I love everything crafty, I really don't like scrapbooking.

Here are the rules:

1. link the person(s) who tagged you
2. Mention the rules on your blog
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.

And here are my tags:

1. Katherine - Katherine Unabridged

2. Ali - Home of the Lazy Dog

3. Jen - Beyond Mom

4. Rachel - Following in my Shoes

5. Mama Les - Mama's Family

6. Clare - From Diapers to Designs

Whew!  Those quirks were harder to come up with then I'd thought!  Until next time...

She's a GIANT!

I knew she had gotten big, I guess I didn't realize how much!  Miss Priss had her check-up at the doctor's.  She is 90th percentile for height and 95th percentile for weight.  She is 20 months old right now, but the doc said she is the size of an average 26 month old!  And she said Priss is a genius.

OK, maybe she didn't say it in quite so many words. 

But I could tell she was thinking it!

In all honesty, she is a pretty smart cookie.  She knows her letters.  Not the alphabet song (yet), but if you point to any letter of the alphabet, she'll tell you which one it is. 

No, I'm not one of those crazy women who's trying to get her into the best preschool.  She fell in love with a cartoon called "Super Why" on PBS.  It's real cute, with letters that fly around and sentences that highlight the words.  I credit the cartoon with getting her interested, and the rest is just a game to her.  A way to keep her from getting too fussy when we're at a restaurant. 

"Priss, what letter is this?"  "H-ch!"

"And this?"  "AAAAaaaaa!"

"And this?"  "Pe."

"This?"  "Pe."

"And this?"  "Whyyyyyy!"

"And what does that spell?"

"Bird."

Well I never said she could read!  I suppose, technically speaking, she's just got a really good memory.  But memory is the start of smartness, right?  I've been trying to get her to recognize the word "happy" so when we play this little game in front of an acquaintance, I'll say "what does this spell?" and she'll say "happy!" and she'll look like a total genius.  Did I mention I'm not crazy?

But ask my little genius what the colors are of objects in the room and she'll say "geen!"

Every.  Single.  Time.

1....2.....2 1/2......2 3/4.......

I have hit the terrible two's.  I know she's only 20 months, but if she's big for her age, and smart for her age, then she can be a smart-alec for her age, too, right? 

This morning, she wanted to play with her puzzle book.  I wanted her to brush her teeth.  "Get over here and brush your teeth!"  Nothing.  "Don't you want milk?  Don't want to go downstairs?"  Believe it or not, reasoning with her works a lot of the time.  Just not THIS time.  "You're going to go back to bed if you don't get over here!  ONE!"  Still looking at her back.  "TWO!"  She turns around and tries to tell me something about the seahorse she's holding.  "THREE!!!"  I scoop her up, throw her back in her crib and shut the door.  She cries for about a minute before I come back in to get her.  "Are you going to brush your teeth now?"  She nods.  That one little manuever should last me a few weeks.  Hopefully, when I say, "Do you want to go to bed RIGHT NOW?" in that 'mom' tone of voice that we all know and love, she'll straighten up and fly right.  Hopefully.  I've learned, thus-far, in the business of child rearing, that whatever you THINK will happen is NOT what will ACTUALLY happen.  I think it's the universe's way of keeping me humble.  And a little fearful.

Last night, Grandma suggested that Miss Priss has too much power.  I totally agree.  It's the by-product of the TSSAHM (that's Temporarily Single Stay at Home Mom, for those not keeping up!) lifestyle.  It's just us, alone, together, most of the days, weeks, months.  As Grandma put it, we're more like partners.  And I have this crazily unnatural need to always be polite and ASK her if she wants to do things!  Even when I KNOW that's what we're going to do!  For example, "Priss, do you want to go upstairs?"  Now, I know full well we are GOING up those stairs, why am I asking?  "No." She shakes her Shirley Temple curls.  "Come on, let's go upstairs," I say more firmly this time.  "No," with the impish smile that always makes me want to smile back.  Stay strong.  "We're going up stairs right now."  Grab her, pick her up, off we go.  See how much faster that would have been if I started with the last command?  Moral of the story -- even though the end result is still happening, the fact that I'm asking her and giving her the opportunity to say no is making Miss Priss feel in control of the situation.  My momma raised me too well.  I gotta check those manner at the door!