Never Satisfied

It occurred to me today (thanks, Karen for the reminder!) that I never did post Alexis' two-year portraits. Nor have I sent prints of the darn things out to family members (yet--I swear, it will happen!). The reason for my delay is that I had full intentions all along of getting another set taken. Between my brain going on spontaneous vacation and various little setbacks, two months later I still haven't gotten on the ball.

The primary setback has been that Alexis has not managed to go more than a few days without having some sort of major bruise on her noggin. She's always a walking accident, but I would prefer our less-than-annual family portraits to not make it look like we punch our kid in the face. The first bruise was a lovely little black eye she obtained while pushing a truck around at daycare. Her little feet slipped out from under her and she inadvertently ended up pushing the truck with her eye.

Now she's sporting an even bigger bruise on her forehead. I find this bruise particularily fabulous because while I know it happened at daycare, nobody seems to know how. I'm pretty funny about that whole thing where nobody knows how she managed to get a bruise on her forehead the size of a dollar coin. And by "funny", I mean PISSED. When she got the black eye, I honestly just figured that's the kind of thing that happens. It was no big deal because THERE WAS AN EXPLANATION. This time, all I know is that it happened in the first hour she was at daycare, before her favorite teacher (and BFF) arrived. That teacher was right there with me, all sorts of ticked off that a kid managed to whack her head without anyone knowing what happened. There's no doubt she screamed bloody murder when it happened, so it's not like it could have gone unnoticed. The most annoying part is that the owner of our daycare is out on medical leave, so I can't go throw a fit to the appropriate party. (And yes, I did just write that entire paragraph for no other reason than so I will remember to throw a fit.)

Anyhoo, just as soon as this latest proof that my kid is a klutz (or got smacked by another kid, which is actually what I suspect happened) starts to fade, there will be family portraits and there will be more two-year portraits of the Toddler. Hopefully this all will go down before she turns three.

(BTW, you can tell me these portraits are fine, but I won't be able to hear you as I have my fingers shoved in my ears to block you out. Her hair was a hot mess that day, and that's that.)

What a Girl Wants

I know every woman does it. In fact, I do it all the time. I might even be a master of the art form. So it should come as no surprise that my daughter would start a wee bit early with the whole It's a Woman's Prerogative to Change Her Mind at Any Moment thing.

A few months ago, if you had asked me how Alexis felt about the cats going in to her room, I would have relayed to you her habit of giving birth to a very large cow every time she caught one in there. She has been known to literally kick them out and slam the door on a tail or two in her haste to get them to "GO OUT NOW!"

Her middle of the night complaints about cats entering her sacred quarters had gotten so bad that I had to start closing her bedroom door at night, thereby ensuring that her toes would be blue from her sleeping in a meat locker. I don't know why the heating vent in her room blows so bad, except that it's probably more like it doesn't blow. It's frackin' cold back in her room, so an open door is her only hope for warm tootsies. No matter, it turns out that my child came equipped with a kick butt internal heating system and a preference for icy cold air over any creatures entering her room at night.

But that was then. Now? She has changed her mind. Suddenly. Without warning.

One night last week, I forgot to close her door and later discovered that Coal had been sleeping right in that wee little toddler bed with Alexis. I stared in awe because this was truly a monumental occasion. She's been known to rip a cat's head off for even looking at her bed. I know she's a light enough sleeper that she knew he was there. And yet? He survived the night and he even got to keep his head.

A few days later, I discovered the Toddler sitting on her bed reading Coal a story. He's a goofy little thing who is desperately starved for attention, so he was playing along in hopes that her pudgy little fingers would somehow end up rubbing on his little head. He was granted his wish, and Alexis was delighted when he awarded her by making obnoxiously loud purring noises. It seemed my little girl had finally discovered there's a critter in this house that is always game for a cuddle and will do whatever he has to for a little love.

Tonight, I witnessed something I would have never thought could happen. She who once screamed, "MOMMMMMMMY, KITTY GO AWAY!" in the middle of the night, using a tone of desperation I personally would save for a knife-brandishing intruder, gave birth to a very large cow for a whole new reason. It wasn't because the cat was in her room, it was because he wasn't. Tears and screams and howls flew out of her mouth after I tucked her in for the night. It took a while for me to decipher her complaints amongst the blubbering sobs, but I finally figured out what she was saying,

"I want Coal Kitty."

The kid would not go to bed without her cat.

So, I searched the house, high and low, trying to find the allusive and really tiny Coalio (that's his rapper name). I finally found him whisker deep in a bowl of kitty food. I scooped him up, against his will, and hauled his little behind up the stairs. Miss Mega Meltdown was so upset she was oblivious to the little bundle of cuddles that I had tossed onto her bed. He was so freaked out by her sobbing that he took off running. Cue a bigger meltdown. Cue the cat running faster and farther. Cue Mommy ripping every hair out of her head as she chased a freaked out cat and tried to calm a freaked out Toddler.

Eventually I was able to soothe the cat enough to convince him to stay put, and then turned my energies towards calming the child enough for her to notice that she had gotten her way. Now, as I type this, they are all cuddled up in the tiny little bed, both as happy as can be.

Yup, my kid is officially a member of the We Change Our Minds All the Time Girls Club.

Not Even a Little Bit Interesting

I could write about my latest foray into Loony Loon OCD Land, where I am the Queen of all things Obsessive AND Compulsive. I could casually mention that I WIN I WIN I WIN SHE STAYED IN HER BED TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW I WIN I WIN I WIN. Or, I could talk about how the Girl Scouts of America should rename themselves the Pansy Scouts of America. However, it's Friday night. On Friday nights, in case you haven't noticed, I suck. I poof into a lazy blogger who can hardly muster an entire paragraph, let alone write about anything even remotely interesting. So, in keeping with the status quo, I bring you a painfully boring video of my dear child singing a little KC and the Sunshine Band. Enjoy.