Does this Mean More than Two People Read this Blog?

Let me share with you a short excerpt from an email I received today:

"It is extremely irresponsible of you to allow your child to place dog bones in her mouth . . . No wonder she's always sick."

Go ahead, go back up there and read it again.

Now I'll give you a second to think about that one.



Sorry, but that's seriously what happened when I first read it. I laughed and I laughed and I laughed. Anybody that has kids could probably figure out why. "Allow." That little word is just so darn funny. I mean, of course I "ALLOW" her to chew on dog bones. Actually, I encourage it. I search all over the house for one that's nice and slobbery and just shove it in her mouth. I "allow" her to chew dog bones just like I "allow" her to climb on the kitchen table, eat baby wipes, bite the cat, and tell me "no way" when I ask her to do something.

News flash--Babies are born with minds of their own. They will do what they want to do when they want to do it. It takes a while before they begin to actually understand the concept of no. Frankly, I know some adults that still don't understand it. I would say that Alexis is beginning to understand it. She has to be endlessly reminded that some things aren't allowed, but she still will try to do them just to see if the rules have changed. Given the fact that she's 22 months old, I find that behavior to be pretty much expected.

You know what behavior isn't to be expected? The Bulldog's. You see, Alexis stole that bone straight out of the Bulldog's mouth. That video clip was an excerpt of a longer clip showing Alexis trying to steal her bone, me fussing at her to leave the dog alone, and Meg happily giving the bone up. A split second before the dancing started, I was praising Meg for being so patient. If I had been the one taking the bone from her, I would have had to leave a few fingers as a deposit. Praising her was more important at the moment than keeping track of what the Crazy Toddler was planning to do with her bounty.

(Now that I'm thinking about it, it's a good thing Alexis stole Meg's bone and not Jasmine's. Because of her build, I can guarantee that Bully Baby can't lick her own butt. So her mouth and bone are theoretically a million times cleaner and less gross than the fuzzy one's. I've seen what she does in her spare time.)

As for the remark about her always being sick--no she's not. She is right now thanks her re entrance to daycare. I think it's reasonable to expect that dunking her in the petri dish that is daycare will have germy side effects. I don't like it, but I figured it would happen. Actually, she's been pretty skilled at dodging the illness bullets in her short life. A little over a year ago, the flu tore through our daycare. She was the one and only baby that didn't catch it. Not that it matters. After all, all kids spend a decent portion of their lives with colds. That's what happens when you put them in rooms together, playing with the same toys, breathing the same air, and rubbing their grimy hands on one another.

It happens just like this:

I think this photo captures the exact moment when Alexis passed her germy goodness on to her cousin Tyler. I know, I know, how dare I allow her to give her cousin a hug goodbye.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go see if I can convince Alexis to stick her tongue in the Bulldog's mouth. Again.


I Kicked NaBloPoMo Butt

As of this post, it's official. I have kicked NaBloPoMo butt by posting at least once every day in the month of November. Now I can resume, um . . . yeah, posting every day like I always do. But hey, at least now I won't be doing it because some contest says I HAVE to!


Christmas Past, Present, and Future

As I lie awake in the middle of the night just waiting for the Toddler to summons me (as she has every night since we returned from Indianapolis), I was thinking about Christmas gifts. I started on the track of trying to decide if there were any other gifts that I should buy Alexis. That led me thinking about some of my favorite gifts that I received when I was growing up. Before you know it, I had an idea for a meme. And you know what? Mr. Google doesn't say anywhere that there's a rule that says I can't create a meme whenever I want. So I hereby announce my very own meme--Christmas Past, Present, & Future.

Here are the rules:

1. List your favorite childhood Christmas gift, your favorite gift that you received as an adult, and a gift that you would like to receive in the future.
2. Include the badge, if you would like.
3. Tag three people to do the meme.
4. Leave a comment on their blog to let them know they've been tagged.

I have to admit that I don't remember a lot of gifts that I received growing up. There was my Cabbage Patch Preemie, Anson Nolan; a doll named Veronica; and a Snoopy electric toothbrush. But my favorite childhood gift was the basketball goal I got from Santa when I was in 5th Grade (my brother is 4 years younger than me, so Santa visited for a bit longer than necessary). Before I got that goal, I would shoot hoops into a goal that was fashioned out of a piece of counter top and a pickle bucket. It was hung from a light post in our backyard. I couldn't bank shots off the backboard since the bucket was nailed directly to it and the ball just wouldn't bounce quite right. I happily got by with that make-do goal for two years. But when I got the fancy real one, I was so excited that I made my Dad hang it up immediately, despite the fact that it was the dead of winter in North Dakota. I sat out in our snow-covered driveway shooting and shooting and shooting, and continued to spend my every opportunity out there for the five years that followed. It didn't matter that the driveway was gravel and I couldn't really practice dribbling because I had a goal. And I loved it.

Last year my husband dared to do the unthinkable--he bought me jeans for Christmas. Most men (wisely) wouldn't dare try to buy a pair of chains for their wife. If they pick too big of a size, there will be whining and nagging. If they pick too small of a size, there will be whining and nagging. And there is simply no way a man could ever pick the right style/fit of jeans. But not only did my dear husband pick the exact right size, he managed to find jeans that fit PERFECTLY. You all know how impossible that is. I ventured back to Gap (where he found them) to buy as many identical pairs as I could, only to learn that they had been discontinued. I scrounged up one pair on clearance (yay me!) and thought that would be the end of the most perfect jeans that ever were made. They recently made a comeback. You know what will be on my list this year.

I would love it if someday I were to receive a trip to Disney World for Christmas. I don't want to spend the actual holiday there (been there, done that, don't recommend it to anyone that hates crowds). I just want plane tickets for the family, tickets to the park, and reservations at a condo. That's not asking for too much, is it? Just knowing the reservations were made would be enough to allow me to have sweet dreams of Mickey and Tower of Terror dancing in my head all through the holiday season.

And now for the tagging! I would like to tag Karen at The Rocking Pony because I heart her for wanting to decorate every room of her house in a different theme, Madame Queen because she doesn't wrap gifts from Santa, and Jen at Rants and Raves because yay! Dylan is walking! If anybody else wants to do it, consider yourself tagged.

Before I leave you, here is my favorite Christmas gift that I've gotten so far this year. I like to call it my Crazy Dancing Toddler and her Doggy Bone Dance. (I swear I have no idea what made her think she should do this.)