Bits and Pieces

• RJ went back to school today (and the cats sighed in relief). "Hey mom, I saw a crab in the sandbox today," he tells me. "And it tried to bite me, but I ran away." His teacher tells me he has a great imagination. Imagination? Fibs? A fine line. But if he's going to imagine a crab in the sandbox, I'd prefer if he was fighting it with light sabers and taking it hostage. He's a lover not a fighter.  

• And, on that note: "Mommy, I love you. Did you know that? Even when you go to work. And even when you're naughty to Daddy." (I often have to reassure him that I love him even when he's naughty. He spit in my face last night. He's lucky I'm his mother and that I love him even when he's naughty.)

• And why would my precious little boy spit on me? Two words: video games. We got a Mario Kart video game for Christmas. I knew he liked the go-carts at Disney World an awful lot. Turns out, we could have spent 20 bucks on a used video game and a couple of steering wheels and had just as much fun (almost--I'm kind of a Cinderella junkie).  

This is what evenings look like (cat included) when RJ has had a good day. He's intense. Let's hope he has that kind of focus for the road when he's 16. 

•  GiGi is equally intense, when it comes to shoes at least. I know there's a lot of debate out there about whether gender roles are taught or born. My daughter is 15 months old, shoe obsessed, baby crazy, and spent the morning spoon feeding tea to her dolls. She is Prissy with a capital "P." I am too. So, maybe it is taught and not born. But I'm not so sure about that. 

When I say obsessed, I mean it. Girlfriend loves her shoes. I'm happy to report that she uses her castle to park cars nearly as often as the princesses dance on the lawn. 

We had a tea party. On bubba's blankie (don't tell). If you look carefully, you'll see her favorite bag: RJ's Star Wars lunch box, of course. 

•  We've taken advantage of the warmer days lately: 

This is what happy looks like. 

And this. 

(Her father is dreading the day she turns 25 and is officially allowed to date. Just look at those eyes!) 

True bliss. He is way too big for the baby swings, but he's my baby. That counts, right? (He wanted me to swing him. How could I refuse? He has also asked me to rock him to sleep the last two nights. Again, how could I refuse? He'll be 13 and angry soon enough. For now, I'll let him snuggle his way to sleep every night.)

Yes, I do make her wear the bear hat everywhere. 

•  When I was considering cutting back at work, I worried that I'd lose my mind. I haven't lost it totally. But, I have set up a squirrel feeder and a bird feeder in the backyard. The squirrels are very merry: 

RJ has named him Perkins, and he visits everyday. 

• This is what nap time looks like at my house: 

He was totally supposed to be asleep, and he got totally busted. 

She's dangerously close to climbing out of the crib. This scares me. She can also tell you that a dog goes "oof oof," a cat goes "ow, ow," and she'll play peek-a-boo with the table cloth if you're really lucky. She's growing up, just a wee bit too fast. 

• I was wary about giving RJ video games, but his toddler tablet has been more than I could have hoped. He and Sissy play together (when they're not fighting).  (Ignore Ugly Chair. I'm working on her. She's getting less ugly, but she's kind of sensitive about her spots.)

• I haven't lost my mind, but I also have a cat who visits me most days too. I haven't named him yet (mostly because he belongs to the neighbors and very likely has a name already). I have referred to him as Old Puss Puss. RJ, of course, thinks that's fun to say and repeats it to everyone.  Out of the mouths of babes. 

GiGi is entertained and talks with him: "Ow, ow! Hi cat!"

And then she talks to me about it.  

• I've mentioned before that nursing moms need to get a sense of humor. GiGi has now started to grin at me and then grab my belly while saying "tickle, tickle, tickle!" It's cute. Kind of. Until I realize how much more belly there is for her to grab than there should be. Kids say the darndest things. 

• I often have to tell my little woman, "Pretty is as pretty does, Nelly Olsen." Sometimes she forgets. She does know how to throw a fit: 

Of course, if I had to wear horizontal stripes on those thighs, I'd probably throw a fit too. (Eat the cake, GiGi. Don't ever lose the thighs.).

• We reached a new milestone today. GiGi can stand in the tower to help us cook.  She's curious. Nosy in fact. We call her Mrs. Kravitz these days when she stretches out her little neck, turns that little mouth down, and peers around corners (mostly when I'm on the potty, but hey, she's at that age--I hope). 

• And those are the little bits and pieces of our little world that I don't want to forget.