The Kitchen Aid mixer was a perfect birthday gift for me (thank you, Jeremy, and everyone else who chippped in!) because I love to bake. I like to make desserts that look good and taste good. Both of my moms contributed presents in the month of December that make the whole decorating aspect a ton easier… Mom L gave me Pampered Chef spatulas that make icing a breeze and Mom T provided PC decorator bottles. I could fool around with batters and icings all the live long day. If only I had a maid to clean up the mess afterwards (and, who am I kidding, the perpetual mess beforehand)… Or perhaps a shopping assistant to run to the store for more cocoa… Or a nanny to keep my kiddo from tugging a carton of 18 eggs off the kitchen counter… Ha!
In Livialand, standing under the dripping eaves, bathing in the frigid snow runoff, is fun. In Mommyland, it’s not.
In Livialand, smooshing your toes against Mommy’s chin during a diaper change is fun. In Mommyland, it’s not.
In Livialand, twirling like a ballerina while Mom’s trying to remove your shirt? Yup, it’s fun. In Mommyland? Totally. not. fun.
At this moment, in Mommyland, fun equals a toddler tucked in bed at naptime, a Heath bar counting it’s last moments on earth, and a bloggy internet full of good readin’.
Jeremy called me to the windows last night to look outside. At 12:00am it was light enough to read a book on the porch. There was an eery brightness as streetlights reflected on the new snowfall and it would have made for a really fascinating photo walk had we taken advantage of the night. Yet, we had a sleeping child all snugged in bed and it was cold and late. Our alarms were set to go off for early service first thing in the morning. So this photo will have to do.
We experienced a truly beautiful snowfall this morning, the kind you imagine for the perfect white Christmas. Deep snow covered our yards and bare tree limbs were layered in white. On days like this I love the fact we live near our church… There’s something exciting about throwing on snow boots to make our way down the block for worship. This family photo was taken after church.
Why yes, Ms. Klum, yes I am. Sucked in, that is. Today I’ve discovered what the rest of the extended cable endowed already know and embrace: Project Runway. It’s so late that I’m not even going to link that reference. (I also don’t want to read any spoilers.)
Tonight I go to bed with a bellyful of Gobstoppers (not a recommendation, mind you), a head full of 12 fashion designers, and a birthday wish for my mom. Happy birthday, Mamacita! I love you.
Who has known the mind of toddler? Who can discern its ways? When Sesame Street is over, when the hardwood floors are bitterly cold, why does the two year old remove her slippers and socks? And when it comes to places to sit, places to ponder deep thoughts, why does the wee one deposit herself under the sink? Adult minds will never know. They will simply observe. And take pictures.
Warm days at the beach where a cool breeze floats in off the waves and the sun creates more freckles on my face. Delicious entrees of fresh seafood — crabcakes, shrimp, fish, clam chowder. Huge oaks draped with spanish moss, gravestones dating back several hundreds years, churches with historical significance.
St. Simons Island sounds lovely today.
The other day I cracked open one of Livia’s Christmas presents and began at the beginning with the story of Creation. After storytime we called Jeremy (who was completing a freelance project) and Liv related what she had learned: that God created the first man and first woman, Adam and Kristin. By the next phone call, this time to Papa, the names had changed. Adam and Evil.
I picked up an especially lovey-dovey Livia from Nana’s house this afternoon. Man, it’s great to be greeted by a toddler who says, in her own special toddler drawl: I mi-issed you, Mom. The utter melting of my heart left a puddle on the floor.
Earlier today I deviated from our normal route home in order to pick up a breakfast sandwich from Burger King. As soon as I pulled into the parking lot Livia started clapping. Wondering if my daughter had finally picked up on my affinity for eating-out I asked, “Why are you clapping?”
“Because I’m happy,” Liv replied.
“Why are you happy?”
“Because Jesus loves me.”
Right in the heart, people. She gets me every time.
I carried on the most ridiculous conversation yesterday with an employee at a local fish store.
Me: Um, hi. My in-laws purchased a betta fish for my young daughter and, well, I don’t think he’s doing too well.
Fish Guy: What’s he doing?
Me: Laying on his side. He doesn’t want to eat. He hardly swims around. But I know he’s alive because he moves when I tap the bowl.
After running through a short list of betta care questions, I’m left with this: our betta may have had a stroke.
So evidentally I’m feeding and cleaning the bowl of a stroked-out, $3.50, slightly crazed betta. See what I mean about ridiculous?
Our outdoor “pet” situation is no better. Our front porch slats, apparently, provide delicious munchies to a very cheeky, obstinate and, dare I say, vicious squirrel. I tell you what. This thing looks me in the eye and just dares me to take a step in his direction. I had the audacity to head out front to pick up our mail and the little thing stared me down and refused to budge! I swear he’s going to charge me or the Wee One someday. Jeremy laughs at this concern, but he hasn’t seen the challenge in this squirrel’s eye yet.
Tredways: 0
Yard Rat: 2 (Just ask Liv how Daddy broke his foot)
Livia thinks Madeleine is the coolest thing in the world.
I love the way her hand so casually rests on her baby cousin’s head here… It’s like Liv’s thinking, Yeah, we hang out all the time.
