Snapshots of Sydney Pippa

When I looked at my phone for pictures of Sydney Pippa (which, I've surely been snapping daily, right?) I was shocked to find they are a little, uhm, spare. So as I did with Brigitta, I'm going to post monthly snapshots of Sydney. It keeps me motivated to catch little moments here and there as she rapidly grows. This is all I have for November and December, but I'm going to do better in 2014!

With Aunt Whitney

I love these sweet turtle pjs (handed down by Reagan) and was so sad when Sydney grew out of them. 

Brent spends as much time as he can with Sydney when he's around. 

With Mom

Again with Dad

I don't want to say Sydney is a "good" baby because that automatically implies there are "bad" babies. I guess I can say Sydney is an extremely "easy" baby in that she doesn't require any extra attention for digestive issues or colic or just needing to be held. It's almost as if she was read the riot act in the pre-existence and told if she was going to come as an early surprise, she'd better not throw a fit when she got here. Sydney Pippa is a champion sleeper and she dozes for 4-6 hours at a stretch. During the night, she doesn't cry but I'll wake up to hear her rooting instead. After she's nursed, she goes right back to sleep. As a side note, Brigitta is now sleeping through the night so I'm getting loads more rest than I did when I was pregnant! Sydney has mastered the "social smile" that melts my heart. Her tiny body shudders as if the joy inside her just spills out onto her face. Initially Brigitta went through an adjustment period with the change in family dynamics. She'd randomly scream at things: doors, clothes, ice cream, etc. like she didn't know quite how to cope. After a couple of weeks, Brigitta relaxed and now "Puppaaah" as she calls her, doesn't seem to phase her in the slightest. Brigitta will run into the room with her bottle if she hears Sydney crying and on the flip side, she's right there to polish off a half-drunk bottle left behind. Brent's particularly happy about that because we aren't wasting even a drop of expensive formula. Sydney's still so small she just curls up on my shoulder and cuddles. I have to admit it's hard to put her down to make dinner or change a diaper because I know this won't last forever.

Oh Santa, We Know How You Feel

Here's the thing- we started out friends. It was cool but it was all pretend:

 You had your chance, you blew it. Out of sight, out of mind:

 Shut your mouth I just can't take it. Again and again and again and AGAIN!!!

Since you been gone I can breathe for the first time. I'm so moving on: 

 Thanks to you, now I get what I want:

Crushed it.

Chopped

First I discovered the chunks of blonde locks on the floor of Liesel's room. A quick forensic analysis told me this was Liesel's hair and not Ireland's. Then I took a closer look at my eldest daughter, who up till now I had passed in the hallway, bleary-eyed from a not-so-sound night of sleep. My suspicions were confirmed. Liesel had gotten out of bed early, gone into the kitchen, climbed onto the counter so she could reach the kitchen shears (magnetically attached to the side of the fridge), snuck them back to her room, and boldly charged down the road to becoming the next Vidal Sassoon. Because Liesel's hair is so much thinner than Ireland's, it was beyond repair. There was no way to just taper this in. Her flowing golden hair would need to be completely cut off.

I couldn't find a filter to make this look any better. 

I called my Aveda salon and left a message explaining what Liesel had done and asking to be squeezed in right away. Then I called Liesel's school to let them know that until she was presentable again, she wouldn't be coming to class. The salon called back and an all too amused woman booked us for the earliest appointment available. When I thanked her she chirped, "It happens!"

Liesel's stylist spotted her right away and said, "So you decided to have some fun this morning, eh?" At some point in my grown up life I told myself I would never cry over a haircut unless it was necessitated by chemotherapy. Hair grows back and there are bigger travesties in life to spend tears on. However, as I saw Liesel's lovely hair fall to the floor I hate to admit I choked back emotion. All in all it was 10 inches. I have to hand it to them, everyone at the salon was extremely calm and kind about the whole thing. In the end, they made it such a positive experience I'm honestly a little concerned Liesel will try it again just to go back.

This is just the first pass to get the main part. Much, much more was cut off.

Even though I was still fuming over the whole debacle, Liesel immediately embraced her new haircut. She likes how it "swings" and how she can jump around and let it fly, only to have it fall right back where it was when she's still. She excitedly tucks it behind her ears and tells me she's okay if people call her "cute" instead of "beautiful". The kitchen shears are now on top of the china cabinet and Ireland has been told to scream bloody murder if Liesel tries to cut her hair.

The new bob.

 I know Liesel is not the first, nor will she be the last, little girl to cut her hair. Nonetheless, it's still a bit hard for me to look at her and think of all the adorable hairstyles I used to do and how that era is over. Oh Liesel, what are we gonna do with you?

Liesel Epistles

The outside of my birthday card.

The inside of my birthday card. For the record, I did have a great time eating my breakfast in bed. While I did get an ice cream cake from Coldstone's, it wasn't nearly that big.

Liesel vacillates between calling us by our formal names and calling us Mom and Dad

I haven't seen this particular manicure inspiration on Pinterest but I think it should be!

 For reasons unknown to us, Liesel prefers to confront her dad through written, rather than spoken, word:

If you don't have real cookies handy, doesn't a drawing of cookies cheer you up just as much?

I love how Liesel drew pictures of her usual happy self, and a frowny face crying due to her father's harsh words... just in case the note itself wasn't clear enough.