2 Year Old in the House

I have a two year old! I can't believe this day has finally come.

We can play picnic in the playroom, or dolls, or play dough. In church today, Maddie leaned over and smashed her mouth right into my ear to whisper, "Hello Kitty, upstairs, playroom." After a full body shiver, I passed the message on to Alli.

I love to watch Maddie throw a tea party. She is so serious about it. First, you have to put the teapot under the play kitchen spout. Then you bring it back to the table and fill the cups. This is done by picking up each teacup and hanging it upside down on the spout while making a shushing noise. (Since there isn't any liquid involved, nothing spills). Then the guests arrive, and she divides up the food. "Hungly, mama," she'll say as she puts the plastic chocolate bar on her itty bitty plate.

Her vocabulary is growing every day and my favorite laugh of the day is listening to her sing "Give Said the Little Stream" before bed. "Seennin seennin all a day..." Maddie-speak is always entertaining and cute. "O-lo-me" means, "I just spilled food all over me," and "hose me" means "pick me up."

When Alli was born everything was scary and new to me. When she was a baby, she cried, and I would panic. It was like every moment was a test. "If I can't stop her crying in the next two minutes, I have failed as a human being..." She cried a lot, so there it was. I figured I was a failure.

But this so called failure has also been one of the greatest lessons in my life. You can either walk around all the time thinking you're incompetent, or you can move on. I learned from Alli that I don't have to take myself so seriously all the time. Gasp, I'm not perfect? Oh, no, other people can do things better than me? Sometimes you have to let go of it all and laugh. And then cry. Then repeat as necessary.

As I look back on Maddie's first two years of life, I can see where I've grown, and how we've all enjoyed the moments more. I don't worry myself as much. All I can say is, "Sorry, Alli." I guess someone had to break me in.

Conversations with Maddie

I came to get Maddie out of her crib the other morning, and I found her stark naked. This is the conversation we had:

"Where are your pajamas Maddie?"

"Jammas, OFF"

"Did you take them off?"

"yeah"

"Maddie, you need to wear your pajamas so you don't get cold."

"I'm freezin" (Brr motions and gritted teeth)

"Tomorrow, can you wear your pajamas all night long?"

"No- jammas -ON!"

I actually already knew that her pajamas were off. She took them off before she fell asleep the night before and the night before that... What am I going to do with this kid?

Ball Pit Bubble Bath

I've known this day was coming for a year now. Anyone who has ever put one foot inside a Chucky Cheese's is aware of the problem. It's the balls. They stink. So when I hauled that $20 dollar clearance Easy Peasy ball pit up to the check out at Target last year, I thought, "This is an awesome deal, but some day I might regret this." That day was today.

My ball pit wouldn't stink. Not in my house. After all, my kids bathe and change socks every day, so why would that McDonald's Play Land mustiness invade my ball pit? I don't know, but it's happened. You know how you can smell everything just after you shower? Well, I had just taken a shower this morning when I was nearly knocked down by the smell in my living room.

I immediately decided to give the balls a bubble bath in my jetted tub. I figured the jets would work kind of like the swishing of the washing machine. I cannot even express how much fun this was. If laundry was like rolling brightly colored balls in mounds of bubbles, I'd do it every day and not complain.

Rinsing off the bubbles wasn't so fun, though, and I realized that a Clorox bath would have been more practical (but certainly not as fun).

Lauren, my friend, it's been ten years. Whenever I think of high school, I think of your smile and your pink lipstick. Always glamorous, even at the beach. We had some fun times together then. Now I hardly recognize you. I wish I had known that you were so sad. I wish I had been a real friend to you.

A real friend would have told you that God had a plan for you and that he loved you individually. A real friend wouldn't have kept everything I know about God and heaven and life to myself. I wish you were here again so I could tell you that we come to this earth to get a body so we can learn about happiness. I remember a time when you were happy, and someday I think you'll see that it was always there all around you. I let you down, mistakenly thinking that you were living your life your way and I was living mine and that you would find your own happiness in life. Now you are gone, and I am very very sorry, for whatever that is worth.

May God Bless you and take away your pain.