Most of Grace's baby talk has faded. There are a few words she can't quite pronounce all of the way. Most of the words she says are clear, but there are some words she says that people who don't know her, wouldn't understand.
There's a little boy in her preschool class whose first name is Vishvesh. I spelled that correctly. It's pronounced just like it's spelled. (WTF, I know.) I make it a point to have Grace say his name like 3 times a day. Because she says BISH BESH. And that cracks my shit up.
A few months ago we took Ava and Grace to visit our friends Kendra and James, and their two little kids. They made us dinner and after hanging out a while, upon leaving, Kendra walked us all out to our car. Terry started buckling Grace in her seat, and Grace pointed directly at Kendra and began frantically shouting WHORE! She wouldn't stop shouting it. WHORE! WHORE! Kendra stared at us in confusion, and the look on her face was complete shock. Terry and I were doubled over in laughter as Grace was now crying, still shouting WHORE! We barely were able to speak, laughing so hard, trying to explain to Kendra that's the way Grace says "her", she wanted WHORE to buckle whore up. We laughed for an hour. It was hilarious.
Sometimes we're at the grocery store or the mall and Grace will point a lady out for some unknown reason, and I'm all like, "Who?" and she yells "Whore!" It cracks my shit up. Every time.
"Oh no MOM! Cinderwella! I left whore at stool today MOM! In Ms. Fiona's tass! You go dit whore MOM! Whore sleeps in whore bed every night!"
She loves her Sleeping Buelley doll. She tells me at night to have sweet deems. She says her nasal spray gives her energy. Her favorite singer is Hanna Tanna. She tells everyone she's Dace Wose and she's Two Years Ode. She likes playing with flashtards. StumStob BearPants is her favorite tartoon. She calls noodles, noonels. She tells me stirrels hold nuts in their moufs. She's wants me to hode her when it's fundering. She tells fat people they have big bellies, to their faces. She loves to chew bubble-dum and eat iceteem.
She makes me laugh everyday. I'm so in love with whore.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sunday Fun Day | Tuesday Snow Day
Two days ago we spent the entire day outside cleaning out the garage, washing windows, planting flowers. The girls played in the front and back yards until they were exhausted. The high was 74 and we were all smiles, and couldn't get enough of the gorgeous sunshine! Toward the end of the day, Terry and I had things wrapped up and were about to take the girls inside to start dinner when I heard a haunting sound. Our neighborhood ice cream truck was slowly rolling down our street playing the most ominous ice cream truck music ever.
There's always the deeply disturbing thought in the back of my head that ice cream trucks are all full of dozens of freakish, homicidal clowns ready to leap out, stuff my wriggling body into a potato sack and take me to the Big Top to torture me after the sun goes down.
We stayed close to our girls while they picked out their treats, just in case any maniacal clowns with smeared make-up tried anything stupid. We made it home safely and the girls gobbled up their Spiderman and Sponge Bob Popsicles. I ate an enormous Neapolitan ice cream sandwich and Gracie let me take a big chunk out of Spiderman's head, which was delicious.
I'd love to know why every single ice cream truck I've ever seen perusing down my street looks like it was tossed 1,000 feet during a tornado. How the hell do they get so busted up? What the hell are people doing to these trucks when they buy ice cream?? I've never even touched the outside of one. Why are there five different coats of paint chipping off? Who actually touches an ice cream truck? Typically, don't you simply reach your hand up and take your frozen selection from the scuzzy truck driver's hand? Leaving the side of the truck unscathed? I don't get it. Every one I've seen looks like it's been through a demolition derby.
This morning we woke up to 33 degrees and snow. Fat and fluffy snowflakes dancing down from the sky. The girls laughed at our poor outdoor cat, Chelsea, who struggled to find even a small piece of dry grass to you-know-what. We laughed at her expense while she went potty without squatting. The ground was much too cold for her precious little butt to touch. Meanwhile, our two less deserving, spoiled rotten indoor cats were staring out the window wondering if the world was ending.
There's always the deeply disturbing thought in the back of my head that ice cream trucks are all full of dozens of freakish, homicidal clowns ready to leap out, stuff my wriggling body into a potato sack and take me to the Big Top to torture me after the sun goes down.
We stayed close to our girls while they picked out their treats, just in case any maniacal clowns with smeared make-up tried anything stupid. We made it home safely and the girls gobbled up their Spiderman and Sponge Bob Popsicles. I ate an enormous Neapolitan ice cream sandwich and Gracie let me take a big chunk out of Spiderman's head, which was delicious.
I'd love to know why every single ice cream truck I've ever seen perusing down my street looks like it was tossed 1,000 feet during a tornado. How the hell do they get so busted up? What the hell are people doing to these trucks when they buy ice cream?? I've never even touched the outside of one. Why are there five different coats of paint chipping off? Who actually touches an ice cream truck? Typically, don't you simply reach your hand up and take your frozen selection from the scuzzy truck driver's hand? Leaving the side of the truck unscathed? I don't get it. Every one I've seen looks like it's been through a demolition derby.
This morning we woke up to 33 degrees and snow. Fat and fluffy snowflakes dancing down from the sky. The girls laughed at our poor outdoor cat, Chelsea, who struggled to find even a small piece of dry grass to you-know-what. We laughed at her expense while she went potty without squatting. The ground was much too cold for her precious little butt to touch. Meanwhile, our two less deserving, spoiled rotten indoor cats were staring out the window wondering if the world was ending.
Friday, February 12, 2010
I'm Smitten For Another Man, Ohno!
Yes, that was a gay title, but I'm serious. Apollo Anton Ohno might be the only thing on my mind at night for the next couple of weeks. His trademark soul patch totally creeps me out, but his athleticism, muscular legs, talent, and muscular legs, totally do the opposite of creep me out.
I hope Terry doesn't mind me being over excited to watch The Olympics this Valentine's Weekend. I'm just really into The Olympics.... Can't wait to see The Olympics. I will be DVR-ing ALL of The Olympics.
I hope Terry doesn't mind me being over excited to watch The Olympics this Valentine's Weekend. I'm just really into The Olympics.... Can't wait to see The Olympics. I will be DVR-ing ALL of The Olympics.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Mom w/ Kids Seeking Other Mom's w/ Kids - Must Have Sense Of Humor and be a Social Drinker
I have been out of the dating scene for quite sometime now - and never again expected to feel nervous about being asked out, or feeling pressured to accept an offer of a date, or having to remember the protocols of dating, and all of that total bullshit. I swear... since my girls started preschool, I've been thrown right back into the dating world. Except this time around it's WAAAYY worse. Now I all think about is did I not smile enough? Was I not funny enough? Was it because I had on a jogging suit and mismatched flip flops? Why didn't that mom ask me out?!?!?! What the hell is wrong with me? I totally thought I impressed her!!
Since my girls have started school, they've made a bazillion friends, and I've met all of those kids moms. Some I want to ask out and some I just don't. Some I hope will ask ME out, and some I hope stay the hell away from me and my kids because their kid totally knocked down my kid on the playground last year. I hope most of the Mom's at our school don't feel that same way, because Grace's behavior alone, would knock me out of the preschool play dating pool.
I've been asked out by moms who are way cool... and like me, are more interested in how delicious their pumpkin spice latte is, or play dates in the shoe department at Target, rather than loosing sleep at night because their Little Darling didn't progress from Parallel Play to Associative Play by they were 9 months old, and what kind of future will that bring?!? OHGASP!THEHORROR! For serious. Those Mom's are out there... and they are WAY SCARY.
When my girls were younger, I could lie and make some excuse about how we can't get together on the same day, or one of my girls was sick, and we couldn't make it to a play date... blah blah blah. But now, Ava's almost 5 and the kids this age are completely relentless about bugging us mom's to death about getting them and their little friends together. Half of the kids in Ava's class ask me on a daily basis to come over, or if they can have her over. And I usually shrug and do the motherly thing, lie through my teeth with a major fake smile, and say "Sure sweetie! I'll talk to your Mommy about it!" Umm, not so much.
I got asked out this morning, and I'm totally accepting. Ava loves this mom's daughter, and Grace loves her son. The kids will have a great time together and me and the mom cansip our hot Starbucks pumpkin spices and talk about shit we just bought at Target but didn't really need discuss pre-K curriculum and new methods of stimulating a young brain to achieve success at every level in life. Score!
Since my girls have started school, they've made a bazillion friends, and I've met all of those kids moms. Some I want to ask out and some I just don't. Some I hope will ask ME out, and some I hope stay the hell away from me and my kids because their kid totally knocked down my kid on the playground last year. I hope most of the Mom's at our school don't feel that same way, because Grace's behavior alone, would knock me out of the preschool play dating pool.
I've been asked out by moms who are way cool... and like me, are more interested in how delicious their pumpkin spice latte is, or play dates in the shoe department at Target, rather than loosing sleep at night because their Little Darling didn't progress from Parallel Play to Associative Play by they were 9 months old, and what kind of future will that bring?!? OHGASP!THEHORROR! For serious. Those Mom's are out there... and they are WAY SCARY.
When my girls were younger, I could lie and make some excuse about how we can't get together on the same day, or one of my girls was sick, and we couldn't make it to a play date... blah blah blah. But now, Ava's almost 5 and the kids this age are completely relentless about bugging us mom's to death about getting them and their little friends together. Half of the kids in Ava's class ask me on a daily basis to come over, or if they can have her over. And I usually shrug and do the motherly thing, lie through my teeth with a major fake smile, and say "Sure sweetie! I'll talk to your Mommy about it!" Umm, not so much.
I got asked out this morning, and I'm totally accepting. Ava loves this mom's daughter, and Grace loves her son. The kids will have a great time together and me and the mom can
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