Color Wonder?

 Sarah Beth loves to draw.  More specifically, she likes to draw on the walls, furniture, and windows.  My bad.  I allowed her to draw on the sliding glass doors downstairs and once you let it off the paper, all is fair game.  Consequently, I find her artwork everywhere.  I have spent afternoons wiping off the “washable” crayon from kitchen cabinets, windowsills, and doors, while she follows behind me with a smuggled crayon, re-doing what I have destroyed.  Her drawings consistently follow the same pattern, a funky little circle with another little circle inside.  Kind of like a fried egg.  Or a sad boob.  Anyway, I started going a little cuckoo over seeing the circle drawings over and over, everywhere I turned.  I started to wonder if it really meant something.  Like in Close Encounters of the 3^rd Kind when Richard Dreyfuss keeps sculpting that mountain over and over in his mashed potatoes.

So as not to be driven crazy by my toddler’s prophetic hieroglyphics, I brilliantly thought to buy a Crayola “Color Wonder” set.  You know, those markers that “magically” only draw on special paper but don’t work on anything else.  So my options at Target were a Dora set (you all know my thoughts on Dora,)  a Toy Story 3 pack (haven’t seen 1, 2 or 3 so who cares) or the Disney Princess pack.  Perfect.  And it comes with glittery paper.  Fun.  Or so I thought.  We get home and I eagerly open the packet, almost as excited as Sarah Beth, who knows nothing except it’s something new and it’s for her, therefore it is awesome.  I rip open the package at the kitchen table and glitter explodes ev.er.y.where.  Apparently, my interpretation of “glittery paper” differed from Crayola’s design.  I thought it would merely be shimmery paper with the glitter ingrained into the paper itself.  Nope.  Glitter is loosely adhered and with just a few shakes, my house looks like Tinkerbell had a keg party.  Glitter is everywhere.  All over me, Sarah Beth, the table, floor, etc.  It is a fine illustration of how dirt and germs travel around the house, as there is now a sparkly trail going through every room.

I ask Crayola this:  if I am concerned enough about messes to buy the color wonder markers, why would I want an explosion of glitter upon opening the packet?  Seriously. 

To add insult to injury, Sarah Beth couldn't care less about drawing with the stupid markers.  She's rather take the caps off all of them and race them down the hallway or line them up on the table and take 'em out one by one with a karate chop.  The only one who colored in Cinderella today was me.  I did snicker silently as Sarah Beth tried to draw on the walls for a moment but nothing happened.  I'm sure she'll get me back by finding a black Sharpie and going to town on my orange kitchen walls, but tonight, I'll enjoy my tiny little victory as I pick Disney princess glitter out of my teeth.

Buggy Rice: To Eat or Not to Eat?

 The other day, I was preparing our weekly favorite, black beans and rice.  As I poured the rice into the saucepan, I noticed a bunch of black things floating on top of the water.  Doing the backstroke, more precisely.  Bugs!  Dangit!  I know that grains inherently are bug-infested and I normally keep opened bags in the freezer, but this was a brand new bag of Harris Teeter organic brown rice.  So as I do with everything in life, I ask almighty Google what to do about buggy rice.  The bottom line is, bugs float and rice sinks so just scoop out the drowned carcasses and continue cooking.  I'm sorry, but someone has mistaken me for Bear Grylls. I cannot knowingly eat something that has bugs in it.  If I am blissfully unaware, that's one thing, but I saw those little suckers swimming around in what would have been my dinner.  So...bye bye rice.  Back to the Teeter you will go.

I should mention that I am not a big fan of bugs.  Ok, it's probably more like a borderline phobia.  In the grand hierarchy of bug hatred, cockroaches top the charts, followed by those creepy camel crickets, regular crickets, flying beetles, regular spiders, mosquitoes, and down the line to general creepy-crawlies.  [Butterflies, ladybugs, and bees are exempt from my irrational prejudice, as long as they don't land on me.]
In the grand scheme of things, these little rice buggers are at the bottom of my list but they are still bugs so I hate them.  Plus they are in my food so that bumps them up a notch.  Ick.  I feel all itchy now just thinking about them.


Am I overreacting?  What would you do?  Eat it or pitch it?

 

Alternative Uses for Training Potty.

Yesterday I bought Sarah Beth her very own potty.  While she shows no desire whatsoever to use the "big girl" potty, we thought it was time to introduce the subject.  She knows what the potty is in theory, as Mommy has not been to the bathroom by herself in recent memory, but she couldn't care less about sitting around in an icky diaper all day long.  Diaper changes interrupt her play time and are an inconvenience for her.  When you ask her if she pooped, she will say, "No no!" quite convincingly.  Sometimes she'll blame it on her best friend. "Elmo pooped."  We explain that it's ok and everyone poops.  So once we get her up on the changing table to clean things up, she goes through the whole list of everyone she knows.  "Mommy poops, Daddy poops, Savannah poops, Moose poops...and so on."  Very funny but I'm sure she'll soon start telling the cashier at the grocery store how "Mommy poops" and I'll be mortified.

To accompany the training potty, I got her some pull-up diapers.  The pampers brand.  I was annoyed that the only kind you could get were "Dora" branded pull-ups.  We hate Dora.  I know most kids love it, but I can't stand any cartoon where the characters yell at you and then yell "Say it LOUDER!"  Ugh, shut up Dora. So SB doesn't really know who Dora is and we'd like to keep it that way.  Unfortunately she is taking over the world, it seems.  Kurt would like her deported.

So back to the potty.  She knows you sit on it and you pee in it, in theory anyway.  But in practice, she has found better uses for it.

Alternative Uses for Training Potty. 
Don't be grossed out, she hasn't actually used the potty yet for its true purpose.

1. Drum.  She is musically inclined and drums on anything so this is no surprise.
2. Storage for legos.
3. Bomb shelter for her playmobile people.
4. Step stool to reach chocolate chips on kitchen counter while Mommy isn't looking.
5. Hiding place for contraband.  (crayons, stolen chocolate chips (see #4), lotion or other personal product she snuck out of the bathroom drawer.)
6. "Thinking Chair" - Watch Blue's Clues if you don't know what this is.
7. Water bowl for the dogs.  Her idea, not mine.
8. Train.  Anything that she can push down the hallway becomes a train in her mind.
9. Receptacle for baby wipes.  She loves to break into her changing table drawer and steal the wipes.  today she pulled out every single wipe and stashed them all in the potty.
10. Sink.  She "washed" her tea set today.  She loves to clean.

Based on the above list, I believe Potty Training is far off in the distance, but I'm not worried.  She'll get it eventually.  In the meantime, I applaud her creativity.

Hell Froze Over

Our next door neighbors finally got the Ginormous POS Totalled SUV towed out of their front yard.  (You may remember I wrote about its arrival in this post last November.) It may have something to do with that little call to the city that Kurt made and the subsequent visit from Code Enforcement, but after an entire YEAR of looking at this literal piece of junk from our kitchen window every day, I was delighted to see Mr. Tow Truck driver take it away this morning.

You can't fully appreciate the horror of this thing with this iPhone snapshot.  Suffice it to say it made our neighborhood look like trash.  Last October (yes, that would be a year ago) I sat having breakfast on a Sunday morning with my Mom who was visiting while Kurt was out of town.  We heard this rumbling noise, and I looked out the window to see the neighbors' adult son DRIVE this thing into their driveway and park it on the front lawn.  That's right, he drove it.  How, do you ask?  The roof is completely caved into the driver's seat.  I still don't know how it was possible to drive it on the road or how far it came from, but I saw him do it with my own eyes.  Then, they proceeded to cover it up halfway with a tarp  (there.  nobody will notice.) and left it to rot for the past 12 months.  I'll admit the lovely canvas tarp made it a little less noticeable, but still.  You have a JUNK CAR in your front yard, people!

A month ago, the tarp blew off in a terrible rainstorm and they never bothered to cover it up, so Kurt finally had enough, called 311 and not a week later, code enforcement left a big orange "move it or lose it" sticker on the back, along with all the hunting and ammo bumper stickers that already littered the rear window.

Also noted on the picture above is the fine job they did painting their trimwork.  They hired some local neighborhood criminal to paint the trim.  He painted the front of the house, (well, parts of it) and then painted about a foot up the side of the house, leaving the rest to continue peeling and rotting away for our viewing pleasure. When we put our house on the market we are going to have to sneak over there and paint it ourselves or no one will want to move here.  They would never notice.  They only venture outside to sit in their carport and smoke, unless there's some neighborhood ruckus in which case Ms. Gloria will shuffle out in her housecoat and slippers to see what's going on.  The thing that drives me crazy is, these people are not that old.  In their early seventies, I'm guessing. 

I assume that the city had to arrange for the tow truck.  Initiative is not their strong suit.  These are the same people that STILL have their Christmas tree up from last year.  It's in their front picture window.  They don't light it of course, guess they save that to make it special for the holidays.  The rest of the year it's just the dusty tree in the living room.  Or maybe they decorate it for every season...throw a few flags on for 4th of July, hang gourds from it for Halloween and Thanksgiving.... doubt it.  I suppose once they hit the 6 month mark they considered themselves early for next year.

For now, I'm just happy that the heap of twisted metal is out of sight.  I can only imagine what will take its place now that there's space freed up in their yard - broken 4 wheeler?  Old bathtub?  Place your bets!

I know, I know.

My mother not-so-subtly reminded me that it has been one month since my last post.  (Wow I felt like I was in a confessional for a second there.  Whew.)

Problem is I have so much to write about I don't know where to start.  We had a fantastic beach adventure this month.  I am still going through the pictures so I haven't written about it yet.  It got bumped in priority so I could do a post about our Farm Tour last weekend.  If you haven't read it on my New Shoe blog, check it out now.

It's all about our visits to some area farms last weekend.  We had such a great time I wanted to get those pics done so I could share them with the organizers of the event.  Sarah Beth had a great time and has been talking about cows and chickens ever since.

In other Sarah Beth news...she is either going to be an artist or a criminal.  She has gotten in the habit of drawing in crayon (washable, thank goodness) all over our house.  Walls, cabinets, windows, furniture.  They are all mere canvases on which she can express herself.  I am constantly saying "you cannot draw on the table, you cannot draw on the chair you cannot draw on the wall you cannot draw on the dishwasher..."  I feel a little Dr. Seuss-ish.  "Would you like them on a boat?  Would you like them with a goat?"   I am perpetually wiping down walls.  Sarah Beth also has a fondness for cleaning, so "forcing" her to clean up her mess isn't really a punishment, it just encourages her to make more messes. 

For whatever reason, Sarah Beth's new catchphrase is "Bacon Cheese!" She marches around the house chanting it over and over.  Whether or not bacon and cheese is on the menu for the day does not matter.  I agree that both bacon and cheese are cause for celebration, but I'm not sure what brought that on.  She is also known as the bacon bandit.  She will steal bacon from any unsuspecting person's plate. A girl after my own heart.

Working on our beach photos now...SB fell asleep on the couch - Blue's Clues overload I guess, so I've gotten a few extra moments on the computer today.  New post coming soon!

Such a nice girl.

She really is.  Sarah Beth.  I’ve been watching how she plays with other little ones, and I’m so proud of her.   We went to the park with our neighbor Gavin and his Mommy Nikki this week, and loved watching these two share back and forth.  Toys, snacks, sticks, rocks. Whatever it was, they would pass things between each other in the sweetest way.    Another little girl a little older than SB came to the park, and SB walked over to her and handed her a shovel.  The little girl exclaimed “Mommy she’s sharing with me!”  Her new friend was sitting on the rocking horse, and SB methodically took scoops of sand and dumped it gently on the horse’s head as she smiled happily.  The little girl said “Mommy she’s putting sand on my horse and it makes my horse feel better!”  How cute is that?  

Today we went to the spraygrounds at Veterans Park where she found another little friend to run around with.  This girl was a little older 3 or 4, but enjoyed splashing around with SB just the same.  SB was picking up leaves and holding them over the water so they’d flip about, and she made sure her new friend had leaves so she could do the same.

We had a big treat this weekend as some of our favorite people came to visit us!  Ouida, Greg, and Avery drove down from Pilot Mountain for a few hours of fun.  We had lunch,   the kids played.  Sarah Beth thought Avery (Ayyyy-Geeee as she called him) was the cat’s meow.  I wish I had my camera when the two of them sat on the piano bench together playing a duet.  I must say, Mr. Avery has skills!  He doesn’t bang on the piano, he really sat and played.  Definitely a musical future for that one.  I’m attempting to instill the same in SB, but I don’t know if I’m having much of an effect on her.  I play a little every day and encourage her to play or sing along, but sometimes she pushes me off the bench saying “Off! Off!”  I try not to take it as a criticism of my piano skills, but I am a little rusty.  She prefers to jam to J-Lo or Ke$ha on 95.1 at the moment.

Here are a few pics from Avery’s visit.  We hit the park across the street for a hot, hot play date then drove over to Rita’s Italian Ice.  Poor Avery conked out in the car and slept through the whole Rita’s experience.  SB managed to stay awake and sample everyone’s flavors, staining her face, hands and shirt a nice shade of red.

Mountain Adventures

Last week we got fed up with the oppressive Charlotte heat and retreated up to my parents’ house in the mountains for some relief.  We ended up spending the whole week there.   Kurt worked a few days and took the rest of the week off.  We would have worried about overstaying our welcome, but we had a cute little blonde ambassador who fell over herself trying to please Grandma and Grandpa, so we figured we were good for a few extra days. 

Sarah Beth is head over heels in love with Grandpa.  Or  “Pawgaw” as it sounds the way she says it.  Poor Grandma does everything to keep this girl happy and entertained, from tap dancing to rolling around on the floor, but it is Grandpa sitting in the recliner who has her wrapped around his finger.  The slightest glance or act of silliness from Grandpa and she is in hysterics.  It is about the cutest thing I have ever seen.  We all went on an outing to the WNC Nature Center which was fantastic, btw.  But for Sarah Beth…cougars, wolves, and bears…whatever.  It was Grandpa who got all her attention.  She was quite concerned about leaving him behind so when he lingered a little, she would holler “PAAAAAAWWWWWWGAWWWWWW” and wait until he caught up. 

So a little about the WNC Nature Center since I brought it up.  It’s in Asheville.  And it’s amazing.  The animals have wooded and wild enclosures, but some of them were right up at the fence.  We were 10 feet away from two wolves.  One stood up and stared us right in the face.  There was so much intelligence behind those wild eyes.  Sounds corny, but I felt like he was looking right into my soul, sizing me up.  A humbling experience.   We saw the newest residents, two beautiful cougars, pacing their enclosure.  They were so graceful and quiet as they moved their huge bodies, jumping effortlessly, showing off to their slack-jawed visitors (including us) by bouncing off trees like a Kung Fu movie.  I could have sat there for hours watching them. 

The bear exhibit is a little unusual as you are actually viewing them from above on a wooden walkway.  One could technically lean over the barrier and fall right into the bear enclosure.  I have visited before and it never bothered me, but standing there with my 2 year old it freaked me out a little.  Especially since the bears below us were clearly in the midst of a domestic dispute.  The larger of the two bears stood up on his hind legs to prove a point, I’m assuming, and it definitely got my attention, if not his partner’s.   Bears are fast by the way.  You are not going to outrun one.  Of course there was the token redneck there dangling his toddler over the railing.  Seriously, people are so stupid.  I didn’t want SB anywhere near the edge, much less hanging her juicy little feet over the side.  And I swear I felt the wooden platform sway a little bit, so that was the end of my bear watching.  On to the turkey vultures, Sarah Beth, let’s hurry!

Another one of our unplanned adventures took us to Cherokee, NC.  We love the Blue Ridge Parkway and spend lots of time driving around up there, soaking in the views and the fresh air.  When SB falls asleep in the car, we tend to just drive until she wakes up, so this time, it led us close to the Southern end of the Parkway.  We decided to see what all the fuss was about in Cherokee and kept going.  Well, let me just do y’all a favor and spare you the trip.  It was downright depressing.  We pulled off the parkway and as soon as we hit Indian land it was trailer after trailer after burnt out shack after trailer.   We passed by closed up motels and broken down cars.  Other than the big “Tribal Bingo” building with the glowing neon sign, there was barely a building that looked inhabitable until we rounded the bend and saw the towering Harrah’s Casino blocking out the sun.  It was so startling to see this shiny structure in the midst of such poverty.  I wonder if the folks living there see it as a slap in the face or is it their salvation, the only money-making operation in the area.  Anyway, we cruised past the casino, past the “hourly drop-in daycare” in case you need to dump your kids somewhere while you gamble (shudder) and then reached the tourist trap of souvenir stores selling moccasins and tomahawks amongst other random items.  (I get the Indian paraphernalia, but statues of lighthouses? Really?  The closest beach is like 5-6 hours away.)  We stopped to get out of the car and get some ice cream, but that was about it.  The whole experience made us feel sad.  I’m sure there are other parts of Cherokee that celebrate the Indian heritage in a more appropriate way, but we never got that far.  We were ready to go home at that point.

Here's a few shots from our ice cream stop.

Hugs!

 We ventured into DuPont forest one day for a beautiful morning hike.

It's not a long walk to the falls, but SB always seems to go halfway regardless of length before wanting Mommy to carry her back.  Why Mommy?  Daddy is strong and she thinks he hung the moon, but apparently Mommy is the designated pack mule in her life.  Good thing she's so cute.

  

Our last adventure was something of a ghost story.  We again, were driving on the parkway aimlessly.  I was reading the Lonely Planet BRP guide, realizing we had hit every stop in the book except for a few, so we decided to go to one of the random places the guide mentioned.  The Balsam Mountain Inn in Balsam, NC.  Near Waynesville and Sylva.  So really in the middle of nowhere.  Back in the day, however, it was a bustling rail town and this hotel was a big destination resort in the 1900s.  We like historic places so off we went.  The guide described it as "luxurious" which by Lonely Planet standards could just mean you get your own toilet, but we were shocked by the condition of the place when we arrived.  You cross the old rail tracks and climb up a dirt road to see what must have been a fine hotel but is now a crumbling mess.  Peeling paint, missing siding, overgrown landscaping.  The place was in utter disrepair.  It definitely had the makings of a Stephen King horror story, but we figured what the hell, we were there, we'd get out of the car and check it out anyway.  Take a few pictures on the old porch.  

We pulled into the nearly vacant lot and unbuckled SB from her carseat.  As soon as she got out, she wanted to get back in the car.  That NEVER happens.  Kurt picked her up and walked over towards the steps of the building and she kept turning around saying "CAR CAR" which was the oddest thing.  I picked her up and carried her up the steps.  She tried to get down, I thought, to run along the porch, but she turned around and went down the steps back to the car.  Completely freaked out and demanded to go back to the car.  We were like, um ok is this place haunted or something because she has never acted like that before. Sure enough, we look up the hotel and there are a few "known" ghosts that reside there.  Including a sheriff who was gunned down at a box lunch social in the 1900s right in front of the hotel.  So maybe SB just didn't feel like getting out of the car, but I wonder if she sensed something that we couldn't see?  It was pretty spooky there.  Boo!

One Month Later...

What a wild month this has been.   

Shortly after SB’s birthday, Daddy Kurt took a 10 day business trip to San Francisco, regretfully leaving us girls to fend for ourselves.   As if it weren’t bad enough that Daddy was leaving, SB managed to get sick right before he left.  I took her to that giant Petri dish of disease, Discovery Place Kids  (a local children’s museum) for her birthday.  She loved it.  It’s set up like a little town with a grocery store, diner, farm, vet, etc etc.  Essentially it was a huge warehouse full of stuff for her to get into.  It was total mayhem.  Kids running amuck, frazzled parents in need of  Extra-Strength Tylenol or a few Tequila shots.  It was way too much noise and too many people for me, but SB didn’t seem to care.  Her friend Mimi and Mimi’s mom Sarah came with us, but the two went their separate ways as soon as we got through the door.  Mimi got head-butted by some 4 year old brute so that didn’t help matters.  Sweet, quiet SB somehow managed to elbow her way through the crowds to get the things she wanted to play with.  Anyway, we stayed for about an hour before we cried uncle and fled the place.   Apparently we took some stowaway germs with us because both SB and Mimi got sick with different illnesses.  SB’s turned out to be Roseola, which presents with a high fever for several days followed by a rash.  The night before Kurt left, she woke up with a 104 fever so we had to cool her down in the bathtub and pump her with Advil and fluids.   

As you can imagine, Kurt was not thrilled to be flying across the country with a sick baby at home.  Neither was I, since that meant I had to take her to the doctor by myself.  SB hates going to the doctor’s office.   It starts when she gets past the waiting room towards the scale and she freaks out until we are in the car on the way home.  Sobbing, heaving, choking…it’s all very dramatic.  Not even sparkly Elmo stickers from the nurses will soothe her.  It’s a train wreck.  The good news was she didn’t have Strep so it’s just a virus.  The bad news was there’s nothing to do but wait it out. 

So from being sick and Daddy leaving, SB was a hot mess the next night.  I tried 4 times to get her in her crib, but she would start crying every time.  My policy was to give her 10 minutes to settle down and if she’s still upset I’ll go get her.  Well, on minute 8 of try number 4, I hear a big thud and a scream.  Yep, she hurled herself out of the crib and landed on her head.  I ran down the hallway to find her face down on the hardwood floor.  I rolled her over to find a giant goose egg on her forehead turning purpley blue already.  Not good.  I called the dr and they said as long as she didn’t lose consciousness or vomit she should be ok, just wake her every 2 hours for the next two nights.  Awesome.  So, no sleep for Mommy whatsoever.  I stayed up all night watching movies while SB slept next to me on the couch.  

After the fall, she decided she wasn’t so into the crib anymore, and frankly I wasn’t about to let her attempt another jump so she spent the next week sleeping with Mommy.  Other than the obvious downside for me, she slept just fine, that is, until fall #2.

Fall #2 occurred a few days after fall #1 as we were getting ready to walk over to the neighbors for dinner and playtime.  She managed to trip over her own feet and fall into the doorway, hitting the EXACT same spot on her head where she landed on fall #1.  Seriously, she could not have planned it if she tried.  The bruise got even bigger and uglier, of course, but after initial crying she seemed fine.  So we went off to play without any ill effects until around 1:30 AM when she vomited in the bed.  Poor thing.  Of course, Mommy was worried so we called the nurse (again) explaining what happened.  She said if she puked again or showed any signs of abnormal behavior to go to the ER, otherwise, wake her every 2 hours, yada yada yada.

Then I called Kurt in San Francisco to inform him his daughter is a disaster area and he kind of freaked out.  Not that I blame him.  He was thousands of miles away and could do nothing to help.  He insisted that I bring her to the ER, regardless of what the nurses said, and that I needed to get someone to go with me.   So our poor neighbors got a phone call at 2AM and Morri, Mimi’s Daddy, was nice enough to offer to come along. 

The Presby Children's ER is very nice.  However, when they ask you if you want to valet or park yourself, VALET.  The parking deck is clear on the opposite side of the building and I had to carry a heavy, sad baby all the way through the hospital.

They took her temperature in a most undignified way, checked her blood pressure, then whisked us off to a room to await the doctor.  When he came in, I told him what happened.  He barely looked at SB, I don’t even remember if he touched her, and said, well, I’ll send the nurse in with some juice.  If she drinks it and doesn’t vomit you can go home.  Oh great.  Totally worth a 2AM ER visit for that advice.  I know, I know, better to err on the side of caution when it comes to our baby’s health, but sheesh, he could have faked a more thorough exam or something…

Anyway, SB wouldn’t drink the juice because she suspected is was poisoned, I’m guessing.  Finally, they brought water and ice n a Styrofoam cup with a bendy straw (jackpot) and she drank some before tossing it on the floor.  No vomiting.  So 2 ½ hours later, we were on our way home.  

When Daddy finally got home days later, our first stop was to Ikea for a brand new toddler bed.   Which leads us into our next adventure in toddlerdom.  To be continued...

Sarah Beth's Birthday Part II

 Happy Birthday Sarah Beth!  Today we'll be celebrating by splashing around at the spray grounds or eating ice cream or riding around in a brand new pink tricycle.  Yay!

Last weekend when we were up in the mountains we went back to the Cradle of Forestry where we took SB's 1st Birthday Pictures.  What a difference a year makes!  Last year she could barely stand on her own.  We could just plop her down in one spot and she'd pretty much stay there.  This year, I could hardly keep up with her.  She loved running through the cabins like they were her personal playhouses.  The other challenge is that she really likes to hold Mommy's hand, and it's hard to take pictures of her when I'm holding onto my subject.  She's far too smart to fall for the old "Look at Mommy!" routine so catching her smiling at the camera is a rarity.  I think I got one or two though.  Here are a few of my favorites.  Isn't she a beauty?

 

  

 

Happy Birthday to Our Sweet Sarah Beth

Sarah Beth is 2.   

My baby is not a baby anymore.  She has grown into a sweet little girl brimming with energy, curiosity and spunk.  She runs, she climbs, she figures things out.  She builds towers with canned goods from the pantry.  She pushes Elmo around in the laundry basket.  She waves bye-bye to the water when it goes down the drain in the bathtub.  She is an expert at puzzles.  She loves to give hugs, especially to Daddy.  She sings along to “You are My Sunshine.”  She dances to the radio.  She cracks herself up with silly tricks like putting a blanket over her head.  She loves to play catch.  She is obsessed with eating hummus (or “humpus” as she calls it.)  She likes holding hands.  She adores water – splashing in the spray grounds or jumping into a pool.  She still sucks her thumb when she’s tired. She loves to snuggle close before bedtime and listen to Mommy sing her lullabies.  She is our heart.  Our greatest accomplishment.  We are in awe of how beautiful and smart she is.  We work hard every day to be worthy of her.  We love her more than we knew possible. 

Happy Birthday, Sweet Sarah Beth.  Your Mommy and Daddy are so proud of you!

We went to a massive sunflower field in SC today to take some pictures.  A few things to note when taking pictures in a big field of flowers:  lots of flowers = lots of bees.  It was a little scary to let my sweet smelling girl roam through the field with all those little buggers, but they were too busy with the flowers to notice us.  The other thing to remember is that there isn't a lot of shade in a field.  It was about 1000 degrees and as we were walking to the flowers we saw a girl literally passed out and being carried out over someone's shoulder, so we made it a really quick trip.  Even with the odds stacked against us, we managed to get a few cute shots.

I was probably saying "watch out for the bees." 

Princess with her sunflower "crown" 

 Beautiful.

Guess Who is Almost 2?

4th of July.

We had a fabulous 4th of July in Hendersonville this weekend with Grandma.  Sarah Beth, we've learned, is infatuated with her Grandpa.  From the moment we arrived, she started bringing all her toys to him, one by one and then by the armful.  She smiles at him coyly and waits for him to do something silly, like put a bucket on his head or make Elmo dance.  And then she falls into hysterics, laughing at Grandpa's comedic genius.  If Grandpa strays away from his chair, Sarah Beth grows quite concerned and begins the search.  Usually he can be found in the kitchen or maybe starting up the grill on the deck.  Sarah Beth waits, little teacup in hand, until he comes back in to enjoy his imaginary refreshment.  Grandma thought this was all cute and endearing for a while, but I think there may be a little jealousy creeping in.  Of course, Grandma still receives the same fanfare when she enters the room and is immediately taken by a little hand to "play play play."  But it is obvious to all the Grandpa is the apple of Sarah Beth's eye right now.  I suspect the feeling is mutual too.

Yesterday after breakfast we went downtown to see the Hendersonville 4th of July Parade.  Small town Americana at its best, the main attractions were the Tractors, some antique, some just big and impressive.  There were also a few Fire Trucks, some Motorcycles, Police Cars, a few groups of Veterans (God bless them) and even a float or two.  There wasn't really much music, but it sure was loud.  Sarah Beth was not a big fan, but she stuck it out and was rewarded with a romp through the toy store afterwards.  Frankly, the toy store was way more frightening than the parade in my opinion - jam packed full of little people and their parents, but SB didn't seem to notice.  We all managed to escape unharmed and returned home to rest up for fireworks.

We weren't sure how the fireworks would go over with SB, but we figured we'd give it a shot.  We headed up to the clubhouse for the Cummings Cove spectacular around 8:30, which is her normal bedtime.  She hung in there for an hour while it got dark, but as soon as the first few boom boom booms hit the sky, she had crawled in my lap with her head buried, sucking her thumb.  Apparently fireworks are not her thing. Maybe next year.  From what we could see as we headed back to the house, the Fireworks were amazing.

Here she is at the parade.  She how thrilled she looks?

 This is her "Mommy put down the camera" look.

 Checking out the parade with Daddy.

 

 A much happier SB playing in the cul-de-sac.

 A neighbor's Grandkids did some awesome chalk drawing and SB added her touch.

Giving Grandpa all her stuff.

Happy 4th of July Everyone!

Floor!

My baby is almost 2.
And she is so much fun.  Well, most of the time she is.  There have been a few "terrible two" moments, but by and large she is just a party waiting to start.  She loves to dance.  Her favorite song is J-Lo's "On the Floor."  Whenever she hears it on the radio, just jumps up, starts shaking her little booty and flapping her arms in a style similar to the chicken dance.  It's hysterical.  She even sings along.  One word.  "Floor! Floor! Floor!"  Which reminds me of my mom.  Mom has a great voice and loves to sing along even when she doesn't know the words to a song, in which case she'd just sing the last word of every line.  I used to mock her mercilessly.  I guess I'm still teasing her by mentioning it, but now at least she and SB can sing "Floor!" together. Here's a version with the lyrics in case anyone wants to sing along with Sarah Beth and Grandma.




In other SB news...she has a boyfriend and his name is Elmo.  Grandma and Grandpa got her an Elmo for Christmas and he is becoming quite a companion for her.  She sleeps with him, dresses him up in her shoes and clothes, puts him down for naps, using a washcloth as his blanket.   She hollers for him when he gets out of sight.  Not in a screechy toddler way, but in the manner an old lady would call for her farmer husband out in the barn.  "ELLLLLLLL--MOOOOOOH"  I think she fully expects him to answer.  I guess I'll have to break down and get her a baby doll or something because she loves dressing him up, but his squishy Elmo body isn't really designed for clothing or footwear.  Have I ever mentioned my unnatural fear and loathing of dolls?  I think they're creepy.  I had a few when I was little and for some reason got it in my head that they were evil so I'd put them in my window seat at night and stack books on top of it so they wouldn't get me.  I don't know why I just didn't tell my parents I didn't want them.  Maybe I was afraid they'd come back seeking revenge.  Anyway, I will probably have to suck it up and get her a doll.  Not one of those realistic ones that could pass for a real baby though.  I don't want to take any chances.

Father's Day.

Yesterday was Father's Day #2 for Kurt.  We had a lazy morning but rallied and headed downtown to the Green to let SB splash around in the fish fountain and run around the park.  Much to our dismay, the fountain was not running, probably due to the fact that there were 35 MPH winds whipping through the buildings.  Dare I say I was a little chilly in the middle of June in NC?  Mother Nature will get back at me for that with a 100 degree day this week, I'm sure.  Anyway, the weather wasn't great so we took an impromptu trip to the Bechtler Museum of Art.  The building itself is very cool.  Sarah Beth is a fan of elevators so she enjoyed the trip up 4 floors to where the art was.  They had some amazingly cool art there, and I would have loved spending more time studying each piece, but after about 20 minutes SB was getting antsy in the stroller and becoming highly interested in some of the colorful sculptures on the gallery floor.  I envisioned her running rampant in the gallery, practicing her climbing skills on the priceless art, knocking down a Picasso and a Warhol in a toddler tornado.  So we wisely made it a short visit and headed up for lunch and a nap.

Dinner was almost sushi, but Kurt made a game time decision to go to Fiamma again.  (We were just there on Friday with friends.)   Tragedy struck when we learned they were out of highchairs ( a lot of  Father's Day diners, apparently) and we had to try out a booster seat.  That worked for all of five minutes until you-know-who realized she was not tethered down to the chair and could escape at will.  Our usually mild-mannered child started getting up and down from the banquette over and over, squealing with delight that quickly would turn to anger when she decided it was time to go for a walk and Mommy was being too slow.  We then became "those people"  at the restaurant.  The ones with the squirmy, loud kid.  Oh the horror!  So dinner was not the relaxing affair we were hoping for, but we all survived, including restaurant patrons and staff.  I think we'll be dining at home for a while.

Happy Father's Day to an awesome Daddy who has no problem helping his girl push Elmo in the stroller.

And finally, if you haven't seen this video yet...it's hilarious.  I hope all good Dads out there had a wonderful day yesterday!

RA RA Sis Boom Blah.

I haven’t written about my RA much.  Mainly because it’s not a fun topic, actually, it’s very sore subject, no pun intended.  When I feel bad, I don’t have it in me to sit down and type about it.  When I feel ok, the last thing I want to do is think about it.  But maybe if I write about this, it will possibly help someone else out there somewhere dealing with the same thing.

So it’s been 3 ½ months since I was diagnosed.  I have bad days, and not-so-bad days.  On not-so-bad days, I wake up stiff and feel slightly better after a hot shower.  The inflammation in my hands is not horrible and I manage to get through the day without wanting to cry or throw things.  I can go about my daily routine with only moderate pain. 

On the bad days, I cringe when I have to change Sarah Beth’s diaper first thing in the morning, and I struggle to put her little shoes on her wiggly feet.  Carrying her 30 lb self is exhausting, and getting her car seat buckled is accomplished only through sheer willpower.  I try not to make a big deal out of it and hope people don’t notice when I have to lift my glass with both hands or give up on cutting something because I’m having trouble gripping the knife.  It sucks.  It really really sucks.  The cruelest thing is, I always feel much better at the end of the day than I do first thing in the morning.  But every night as I go to sleep, I know I’ll wake up feeling somewhere between 6 and 10 on the crapola scale. 

So I mentioned I was going to try the holistic route, using diet, herbal supplements, acupuncture, and a myriad of other kooky Chinese medicinal techniques.   So far, success has been spotty, but I know with this method, it may take many months before I’ve got my body under control.  Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

Your body doesn’t do random.   The inflammation HAS to be triggered by something.  It makes no logical or anatomical sense that some days are worse than others unless something is triggering the inflammatory response.  So the key is, figuring out the “something” or more than likely “somethings” that are the cause.

The “something” is probably diet-related.  Food sensitivities are usually the culprit in these cases.  I have already figured out that I am affected by Nightshades.  No, Nightshades is not a bad eighties cover band.  Nightshades are a family of plant that includes tomatoes, potatoes, eggplant and peppers, including paprika.  These plants contain a chemical called Solanine which when ingested can interfere with an enzyme in the brain that is responsible for flexibility of muscle movement.  For people who are predisposed to joint problems, it is like adding fuel to the fire when these foods are consumed.  I’ve cut all of these foods out of my diet, but let me tell you how hard it is to do for this Irish lass who loves Mexican food.   Potato starch is found in tons of processed foods, even in some medications.  Red pepper and paprika are used in everything.  And any food where “Spices” is listed as an ingredient is off limits, because it likely contains pepper in some form.

Food sensitivities like to travel in packs.  If you’ve got one, you’ve probably got several.  The trick is figuring out what they are.  So right now, I am avoiding, gluten, dairy, sugar, alcohol, caffeine, coffee, soy and red meat.  (Let me come clean right now and fully admit that this weekend was my birthday and I consumed everything that was on the above list with the exception of caffeine.  And I am paying for it now.)  On the bright side, I am fitting into clothes I haven’t worn in years.  However, avoiding everything is next to impossible.  If I could just stay in a bubble and eat my brown rice and beans all alone it probably wouldn’t be that bad.  But the world is full of delicious things, some which reside in my very own refrigerator.  I still have to feed Sarah Beth and Kurt “normal-ish” food.  There’s bag of shredded cheese calling my name right now.  But I will do my joints a favor and ignore its taunts. 

Even harder are social situations.  I mean, I’m going to have a glass of wine now and then, but you never realize how much of our social lives are centered around food.  You meet friends for lunch or coffee.  You go out to dinner on special occasions with your family.  When you have to be a super-picky eater, it’s awkward and slightly embarrassing to say, hey thanks for the dinner invite, by the way, I can’t eat the following 17 items...

Honestly, I shouldn’t even be eating chicken, fish or eggs.  But I can’t go vegan without soy or gluten.  I read somewhere that corn can also be a trigger.   I think I really would starve then.  I may have to try it at some point but I’ll warn everyone far in advance because I will be super cranky when that happens.

What takes the cake on food sensitivities is that it can take several months before you’re completely “free” of a trigger food in your system and start seeing significant improvement.   Ugh.  So why did all this happen anyway?  Who knows, food allergies are weird, but my theory is, I have a genetic predisposition for joint issues.  The pregnancy and c-section got my body chemistry all out of whack and combined with the emotional and physical stress of new baby, it created a perfect storm of sorts in my body and now I need to get everything back to normal. 

So as not to be such a Debbie Downer on this post, there have been some positives about this experience.  I have learned the importance of paying attention to what I put in my body.  My Holistic Acupuncture guy said to me, “I can treat you once a week, a doctor can treat you once a month, but you treat yourself every single time you eat.”

Diet is not just about staying thin and looking good, it is absolutely essential to your health.  Every time I eat or drink anything, I think to myself, am I doing my body a favor or doing harm by consuming this.  Again, there are times (like this weekend) where I say F-it I’m eating cake and I’ll apologize to my body later.   But the majority of the time nowadays, I can feel good about what I’m feeding myself even if it doesn’t satisfy my love affair with salsa or crusty baguettes.