Unfun

Lots of times, I love being the mom of a 4-year-old.  And other times, she says things like, "Mama, pretend I'm a kitty, and pretend my name is Sparkle." 

No, I don't love animals, don't want to feed them, clean up after them, or hear them cry.  The idea of pretending to love "Sparkle" pushes boundaries of my natural mothering feelings.

The worst, though, is when she wants to play that spelling game where they throw out random letters and you have to tell them what word they just spelled.  And then they are like, "Brrg, right!"  What is with these games where you actually have to listen?

The unfun has just begun.

Pageant Mom

When James was 7 months old, I entered her into a baby pageant.  Now I have never believed I was a pageant mom.  I have no aspirations for her to be rubbing vaseline on her teeth and wearing high heels when she is 4 years old.  But from the minute James was born, I have always thought that she was an exceptionally beautiful kid.  The nice people that I know have always obligingly validated that belief (though in hindsight, what were they supposed to do, disagree?)  So when the Marriott-Slaterville City Baby Pageant was announced, how could I pass up the opportunity to show her off a little bit more?

Rules were simple: under 1 year and nothing but a diaper.  How could she not win? Look at her!

So you can imagine my shock when the they announced the winners, and my gorgeous baby came in last place.  That's right, last place.

Shock.  And then homicidal rage directed at the judges, in the picture below, which I have made very large so you can appreciate how NOT cute her competition was, as well as get a good look at the judges, if you ever have an opportunity to run them over.  (BTW, those are man-boobs on chubby one.) 

I can only conclude that the judges were both legally blind and under the influence of crack cocaine.  Alternatively, they were from France.  Here is my little one wearing her last-place "crown:"

In retrospect, however, it was good for me to learn that I am absolutely, positively, not cut out to be a pageant mom.  But that doesn't mean I have to give up on hot-roller hair, does it?

I do love that girl!

Birthday Girl

Bad Blogger!

I have been seriously slacking in the blogging way. 

For Lizzy's birthday, we traced all the kids on a giant piece of butcher paper in G&G's driveway.  Then we painted.  And glittered.  It was theoretically non-toxic, but I can't say that we complied with the mfg's instructions for use:

Since we were on a roll, how about some dirt?

The final product (I didn't have my wide-angle lense, so this is only about a third of it):



Here are the birthday kids all cleaned up:

And a parting shot:

Happy birthday LB!

Warning: Showing Off

Don't say I didn't warn you...

Easter might be the very best time of the year to be a girl.  Or a mom.

 Also, I am finally getting now why those crazy moms of twins dress their kids alike.  Is there anything more fun?

 We even had to girl-up the Easter eggs:

Poor Cortney.

A Matter of Professional Pride

Due to my line of work, I always get a secret chuckle when I come across professional writing that is particularly bad.  The best is product literature from a foreign company that opted not to have a fluent English speaker review their materials.  But then a co-worker brought in an especially lovely piece of work from her box of discount tupperware.  The writing on this was not too bad, just a few misspellings and missing words, but the illustrations were, well, beyond description.  Take this one for example:

At first I thought that this must have been created by an engineer (no insult intended to the engineers in my life), but then I flipped the page over and saw this:

Yes, Virginia, there is extra-terrestrial life, and the aliens happen to be interned in a labor camp in North Korea making discount tupperware.

Superheroes

We've been working on this post for a while, but got inspired to finish it when Mary posted this fabulous photo of my nephew as a superhero.  James has been devouring popular culture for the past few months, and every day she presents with a new character composite of powers and personality.  A few weeks ago, after making a Mardi Gras mask at school, she demanded to put on her best princess attire and declared herself:

That's right, kids, Butterfly Batman.  Straight from the source, Butterfly Batman fights bad guys and good guys, and wins them all.  Her super powers are rad moves (ref. Exhibit A above) as well as money (like the real Batman).  Weapons include credit cards that slice and dice and sparkle shoes that kick some, well, nothing, because we don't allow kicking in our house.  Transportation is pending.  Love interest is pending, but will likely include a superhero with great skills, like bow-hunting, in approximately 15 years. 

My funny valentines

Happy late Valentines Day to all our friends and family.

And just in case you are thinking I am getting sentimental, I assure you it is a false alarm.  For evidence, check out my LO's cankles:

Yes, we do have to pull back those folds to wash her feet.  To assure you that she *probably* has good bone structure under all of that, she could look like this in about 2.5 years:

 

Love them both, and my real valentine, too!