tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32309983469175385182024-03-09T21:46:17.830-05:00Our Little BabySummerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.comBlogger928125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-23974491479558762922015-06-17T11:10:00.001-04:002015-06-25T16:17:45.980-04:00Vivi: Eighteen MonthsHoly Hotdogs, Batman! It's a blog! <div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> I haven't written in a long time. First, my brain went out to pick up milk eighteen months ago and never came back. The cheap bastard. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Also, I've been spending the little "me time" I have doing other important things. You'd be happy to know, for example, that I've binge watched all of Scandal and House of Cards. That adds up to days of my life right there. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Plus, Maddie Bear is getting to an age where I feel funny sharing all of her secrets with the Internet. She'll be five soon, and her existence is no longer my story to tell. This does not stop me from Instagraming adorable pictures, however. That is my right as her mother. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I am sorry that Vivi will not have quite the detailed account of her babyhood that Madeline has. We're nailing this second child thing though. Go us! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Anyhow, Vivi is a year and a half and is owed a letter. So, without further ado...</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-kZwMEdOgJx7KLBGrcTlrO0hdySANuHjZw4aFx0COqPt5wiIYzIDi5erhmhncMMVd6R0szfOO4H3D3xY78aiDjoskH1vcGCj3V6kuUGL93I2Kw7RyRrVMVFPkSYwV5Gw9G5Fq3gMcqw/s640/blogger-image-1375340920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-kZwMEdOgJx7KLBGrcTlrO0hdySANuHjZw4aFx0COqPt5wiIYzIDi5erhmhncMMVd6R0szfOO4H3D3xY78aiDjoskH1vcGCj3V6kuUGL93I2Kw7RyRrVMVFPkSYwV5Gw9G5Fq3gMcqw/s640/blogger-image-1375340920.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Dear Vivienne,</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'm sorry I skipped recording the past three months of your life. We love you and find you just as interesting as we found your sister at this age, but you're the second child, and this is just kinda how it goes. I promise you're not the only second child to have suffered this fate. It's a whole thing. Social scientists even do studies on it. Look it up. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div>You've become such a nugget of a kid over the past quarter of a year. Where'd that little baby go? How did you suddenly develop a sense of humor and the ability to brush your teeth? </div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1YBB3pz4cKoEHyX6KKxD880nEYAawpNcrlz5nP8NIsRLz1ImWBTn-bJs8VH14kHjPwXa8A3VkKWpamozmUQ2oUV_35VuQkhkq3RSHQK24Ia7wkIMmkEELlzCNLRb2gJ1ttu4HC-gUcuU/s640/blogger-image-1366976552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1YBB3pz4cKoEHyX6KKxD880nEYAawpNcrlz5nP8NIsRLz1ImWBTn-bJs8VH14kHjPwXa8A3VkKWpamozmUQ2oUV_35VuQkhkq3RSHQK24Ia7wkIMmkEELlzCNLRb2gJ1ttu4HC-gUcuU/s640/blogger-image-1366976552.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> I'm always surprised by what you can do. You can drag a wooden stool, which probably weighs as much as you do, across the kitchen to the sink. Then you confidently climb to the top to wash your hands by yourself. It's enough to turn my hair grey, but it's also kind of amazing. You're spunky and plucky and such a joy. </span></div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDV1gaRGnEa6g51NHcgRMPmJ7mLzMrhYt2KDuUDBE95402Wlunp2EShZxvZmEwh92HOZf178TYRvQkzqyfsuo1DaOM1YP1_FLr9fyO79uiogERwf6E3gnQrOaqKmZoEduc_KB04d50m5c/s640/blogger-image--1792567828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDV1gaRGnEa6g51NHcgRMPmJ7mLzMrhYt2KDuUDBE95402Wlunp2EShZxvZmEwh92HOZf178TYRvQkzqyfsuo1DaOM1YP1_FLr9fyO79uiogERwf6E3gnQrOaqKmZoEduc_KB04d50m5c/s640/blogger-image--1792567828.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">If there's something you want, you go for it. You don't wait for permission, and you keep at it till you get what you want. </span></div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Climbing is not limited to stools. You climb on everything. Up the stairs, on the furniture, up the slide... You can scramble up Madeline's bed to make yourself comfortable with a book. We have to chase you away from the console table behind our sofa because you like to walk across it like it's a balance beam. For a long time, Madeline took her toys to the dining room table where she could be safe from your grabby hands. Now, not only can you climb onto the dining room chairs, but you'll also crawl up and across the table to reach what you want. No toy is safe! </span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1NnGVH5HVm8wBOtcib8O1F1SjJsK814oBwY18f4dDpcQhjv8LaHUcCgajzorK1ID9rDrCP70Z1Zd_uOtsRiWxktN0281EhZgDZD6kfelU5FNzYW5viiufzeol4F2MTNc3hOMX6D_Npvg/s640/blogger-image-765229072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1NnGVH5HVm8wBOtcib8O1F1SjJsK814oBwY18f4dDpcQhjv8LaHUcCgajzorK1ID9rDrCP70Z1Zd_uOtsRiWxktN0281EhZgDZD6kfelU5FNzYW5viiufzeol4F2MTNc3hOMX6D_Npvg/s640/blogger-image-765229072.jpg"></a></div><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">You stand on your head frequently, and you've even done a few somersaults. Maybe you should take up gymnastics. </span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Your verbal skills are expanding rapidly. I've lost track of all the words you can say. "No!" is probably your most frequently used word. But words like "ock" (rock) "screen," (sunscreen) "oooce" </span></font><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">(juice) and "eeth" (teeth) are also common. Madeline is "Mah." That's used a lot too. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidQH7o7SaULOeiYID1DavHMhO58YruOxiOSYRJCwz72WumMU4IOP4s9qgFBt7mogwgCN2IY_qG1Hysg5vWEvjOz-Q0C5xJpwoHl3qlq4TNbUHFDG5v5-4HNONRIXvyEyxm61FYO3kUmnA/s640/blogger-image-587810693.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidQH7o7SaULOeiYID1DavHMhO58YruOxiOSYRJCwz72WumMU4IOP4s9qgFBt7mogwgCN2IY_qG1Hysg5vWEvjOz-Q0C5xJpwoHl3qlq4TNbUHFDG5v5-4HNONRIXvyEyxm61FYO3kUmnA/s640/blogger-image-587810693.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">You and your big sister are playing together more and more. It's adorable to hear Maddie say, "C'mon, Vivi! Let's play dress-up!" And you chase her into the playroom, so thrilled to be included, to rummage through the pile of princess dresses. </span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">You love wearing her shoes. You put them on your feet by yourself and clomp around the house. You even wear her Anna high heels pretty well. It's hilarious, and disconcerting, to see a baby walking across the room in a diaper and heels. </span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBaiCc7Yw21KUrwSqrbtaL390mzy1_k_j3FDq2rgYSyKZE_awldOfYfD8qJy2g1JYUfU_-6onZzRdfIIUSLZ2V6Q7_9n0iY1NN24QurwxZ3bBd9XS5Q5BbW6BPQrfWalgGRXNg8TJvcmI/s640/blogger-image-1220579418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBaiCc7Yw21KUrwSqrbtaL390mzy1_k_j3FDq2rgYSyKZE_awldOfYfD8qJy2g1JYUfU_-6onZzRdfIIUSLZ2V6Q7_9n0iY1NN24QurwxZ3bBd9XS5Q5BbW6BPQrfWalgGRXNg8TJvcmI/s640/blogger-image-1220579418.jpg"></a></div><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">You are still a peanut. Most of your clothes are nine month or twelve month sizes. People with babies approach me all the time expecting our children to be the same age, and I can read the confusion on their faces when they realize that you are several months older than Little Susie even if you are a head shorter. You are adorably petite. </span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZcnMPgqq8jR6yvIUkwS4Uy7G9j6_HWW5pi5aNCKo2EdDv-Z8CmZvcyCK1uX9TmAVoLlnaO74kXlgdrH6JEAQlzobwrDk3-8s-_FWgQ4odUndI-5Csa8g6MsMNVS2J1uZ2jSkB0sVxAx4/s640/blogger-image--381293668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZcnMPgqq8jR6yvIUkwS4Uy7G9j6_HWW5pi5aNCKo2EdDv-Z8CmZvcyCK1uX9TmAVoLlnaO74kXlgdrH6JEAQlzobwrDk3-8s-_FWgQ4odUndI-5Csa8g6MsMNVS2J1uZ2jSkB0sVxAx4/s640/blogger-image--381293668.jpg"></a></div><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">You're still a picky eater, but I feel like you're eating better than you were a month ago. You like cherry tomatoes and cucumbers, and I'm so relieved to have found at least some kind of vegetable you won't spit out. We make homemade, Vivi-friendly, pizza on the weekends. You love that! Almond-butter and jelly sandwiches are also usually acceptable. </span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM9YsuMrTuW61rQiz0-iIzDjM_8RbhB6A1XFIjD4-3R545ihgxrGGfUe_4eIWS63fQA14niDYDU_HhSkUt-n8Vmr5aLX_FVV59F_5lAixMXj_eVcRp_ydLHCVtNNAqbg-krnD-fW-WHsU/s640/blogger-image-206273144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM9YsuMrTuW61rQiz0-iIzDjM_8RbhB6A1XFIjD4-3R545ihgxrGGfUe_4eIWS63fQA14niDYDU_HhSkUt-n8Vmr5aLX_FVV59F_5lAixMXj_eVcRp_ydLHCVtNNAqbg-krnD-fW-WHsU/s640/blogger-image-206273144.jpg"></a></div><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">The rash on your legs came back with the warmer weather as I predicted it would. Frequent bathing and ointment helps us stay on top of it. Meanwhile, your last bad tummy episode happened on Easter. I think this is the longest we've gone without one, knock on wood! I hope that means your body is growing out of some of these issues. </span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2jOqE0LsEjNhgQBYyMyJ9K_KdrI4LvOCpTmpapUfYRUEo6TQwUevvZpnqnpYyRJWgoW-o6gqFXNwlLgod5S7Nzd2JNzl7KVhnEXVbLrxGN4V3BNvACMJ2yWnjkgu62YTDib4v-vx3tzc/s640/blogger-image--1384255588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2jOqE0LsEjNhgQBYyMyJ9K_KdrI4LvOCpTmpapUfYRUEo6TQwUevvZpnqnpYyRJWgoW-o6gqFXNwlLgod5S7Nzd2JNzl7KVhnEXVbLrxGN4V3BNvACMJ2yWnjkgu62YTDib4v-vx3tzc/s640/blogger-image--1384255588.jpg"></a></div><br></span></font></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You love Popsicles. You stick your face straight in the sprinkler and grin mischievously. You like to help me water the garden. We're going to have a great summer! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">And I love you more than words and the sun, all the stars.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Love,</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Mumma</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-31031760077013051472015-04-22T10:24:00.001-04:002015-04-22T10:27:32.808-04:00Parenting CurrentlyPart of me wants to take away that ink pad and those stickers because this is not going to end well for me. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglZyqk3yZfxpr7_9BJ0DnSTr2CBkHLRIakddyyeD9khQt2bAmxQ4OQLWt4MqzOvqWkoes_BixKuq-Ngbj1hUN4l8EuH3Ptx9eio3Rf8edHsth8hAMOMd3MSvPqktF_Mi0jI5V4j2hWid4/s640/blogger-image--807234970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglZyqk3yZfxpr7_9BJ0DnSTr2CBkHLRIakddyyeD9khQt2bAmxQ4OQLWt4MqzOvqWkoes_BixKuq-Ngbj1hUN4l8EuH3Ptx9eio3Rf8edHsth8hAMOMd3MSvPqktF_Mi0jI5V4j2hWid4/s640/blogger-image--807234970.jpg"></a></div><div><div>But a bigger part is so happy that these two are playing happily and quietly with one another that I'm just going to sit back with my coffee and hope for the best. </div></div></div>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-83531659499100558232015-04-20T09:13:00.001-04:002015-04-20T10:03:27.400-04:00Springy Spring Spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxI2a3pIgM9u1upErzj39m06it7i5MQip5XdCTBsgQ4R5qxNZ0jXNU8a_7fhyphenhyphenXsH3F7Jomyj7mZ0As_1axJf4nWa_EUd3kXOIxy3NwaYekp5hXWZjfRj6NfWfclc1cLtoS28mpzY9Y74/s640/blogger-image--950354466.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxI2a3pIgM9u1upErzj39m06it7i5MQip5XdCTBsgQ4R5qxNZ0jXNU8a_7fhyphenhyphenXsH3F7Jomyj7mZ0As_1axJf4nWa_EUd3kXOIxy3NwaYekp5hXWZjfRj6NfWfclc1cLtoS28mpzY9Y74/s640/blogger-image--950354466.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br></div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxI2a3pIgM9u1upErzj39m06it7i5MQip5XdCTBsgQ4R5qxNZ0jXNU8a_7fhyphenhyphenXsH3F7Jomyj7mZ0As_1axJf4nWa_EUd3kXOIxy3NwaYekp5hXWZjfRj6NfWfclc1cLtoS28mpzY9Y74/s640/blogger-image--950354466.jpg"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We spent all weekend outside, and it was glorious. After the winter we had, it's such a relief to be in the sun. We all have more energy and improved attitudes. At the end of the day, the girls are dirty, happy, and sleepy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Vivi is particularly enthralled with the outdoors having no memory of warm weather. She runs around the yard all day, tries to keep pace with the big kids, digs in the dirt, and cries when we have to go back inside. I don't blame her. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's supposed to be rainy the next few days, so it's good that we got out while we could. We have a lazy day of movie-watching and muffin-making before us. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixYyL_TZBcfFNaNpUNuFHMHFTPKkgdG8FtADXZZJQOU-1AfPB5o0O0IDlrYXpchIvXMbky2ehDE3VDlWD3GuLqT_KgUbvkWeVMKlZ8mp_oJRz9WFqbmazVPlGdDBWVRz6rXDZlJ0M38yc/s640/blogger-image--925395222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixYyL_TZBcfFNaNpUNuFHMHFTPKkgdG8FtADXZZJQOU-1AfPB5o0O0IDlrYXpchIvXMbky2ehDE3VDlWD3GuLqT_KgUbvkWeVMKlZ8mp_oJRz9WFqbmazVPlGdDBWVRz6rXDZlJ0M38yc/s640/blogger-image--925395222.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXSzz2db-Tmo6e7vkqrOtgyHUm8HichdHRsJCvIWzQm9NGv6ypbebO3j2UZ-DyD6fHKR13qFdy_RfQ1jwOHY7_nwpbk3T3yMC2S7h0EuXPjNDdXmVpr16lsj0PjpncLgjxxRdnptHIOdQ/s640/blogger-image--250176969.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazkrdRLr89Mw4HZLAk2ewTsCVk8G5CorLUjg7IzR1O8cEWbjCA_4S0Xor4KU-N9T2ZE8trY72tWx6S6pZ-Aa32cssvggN2cjE5v0m1WBraLVQbA1-XUGDHSlmoM5FRIwyhurb7PjS0n0/s640/blogger-image--2012198813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br></div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazkrdRLr89Mw4HZLAk2ewTsCVk8G5CorLUjg7IzR1O8cEWbjCA_4S0Xor4KU-N9T2ZE8trY72tWx6S6pZ-Aa32cssvggN2cjE5v0m1WBraLVQbA1-XUGDHSlmoM5FRIwyhurb7PjS0n0/s640/blogger-image--2012198813.jpg"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazkrdRLr89Mw4HZLAk2ewTsCVk8G5CorLUjg7IzR1O8cEWbjCA_4S0Xor4KU-N9T2ZE8trY72tWx6S6pZ-Aa32cssvggN2cjE5v0m1WBraLVQbA1-XUGDHSlmoM5FRIwyhurb7PjS0n0/s640/blogger-image--2012198813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6oCE1Tx8T1QR4ZZ6Ztcsx5aOIk2FO-43eEE3wOl7dMBkUVuvNc9nC2KANfdRNYpxZ5OzobzRVWNzzStj8o8s79sgtMv-JczFs6J5_nOJQGWNmQbQJY3o2_jnHeuKum3g2enxxF_LJz74/s640/blogger-image-468477816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRN4fiWvMY5gF1IWd4zYNjUdwwwMjVqyYq0Z-VkSmZCKKHijAph2KtPGti-MwuzIuSYfm7w5LROyXwVwPmgGUKOJynD5B7QL8XASozreRvEAy-LpRE8khb1wb6RbtmCsnYDX2TqxK_qe4/s640/blogger-image--1135671124.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-45616209941557765822015-03-30T13:07:00.003-04:002015-03-30T13:07:26.225-04:00Welcome Home, Dada Eric has had a few busy work weeks keeping him away from home till after the girls' bedtime recently. Since he leaves before, or as, the girls wake up in the morning, there were several dad-less days in a row. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Two little redheads, and one not-so-little redhead, missed him. Luckily, he wrapped up the last of his events on Saturday morning, and was home relaxing on the couch by noon. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Madeline didn't leave him alone the rest of the day. In fact, she parked herself on top of him for a few hours. She wasn't content to just let him zone out in front of the TV either. She needed ALL the attention. </span></div>
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Dada's the best...</div>
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-6856663331823048452015-03-25T13:07:00.001-04:002015-03-25T13:18:19.715-04:00Teeny Tiny PonytailsWhen Madeline was a wee tater tot, she was in the care of a nice lady named Ms. Sarah who ran the baby room at daycare. Among Ms. Sarah's many talents was the ability to create pigtails on the baldest of babies. <div><br></div><div>The first time I saw Maddie's teeny-tiny pigtails when I picked her up in the afternoon, I cocked my head to the side in confusion. How was it even possible to put rubber bands in such fine hair? </div><div><br></div><div>Somehow it worked, and the pigtails were there to stay. When I think back to toddler Madeline, I always envision her with teeny tiny ponies. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRjgkD_9ktZdwOV2ORmRmzNTEo0Y8G9pewVM-0q8L21Ny1_z94e6BxEQz502kKfHMQpqfHoEHfLgZ2BEvi2bEWgwha0u5BurMY3R8Xs44PvbIY_pfCcRa-9JPI8EHPf_6yxE9X9HQnig/s640/blogger-image--908825962.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRjgkD_9ktZdwOV2ORmRmzNTEo0Y8G9pewVM-0q8L21Ny1_z94e6BxEQz502kKfHMQpqfHoEHfLgZ2BEvi2bEWgwha0u5BurMY3R8Xs44PvbIY_pfCcRa-9JPI8EHPf_6yxE9X9HQnig/s640/blogger-image--908825962.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>This morning, in the spirit of Ms. Sarah, I gave Vivi her first teeny tiny ponies. She's officially a toddler now. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-Cx46k-eOYQskP_ThswXGSQwNI9wOTPnrxs4bCxQIDs3Q43yJKtGvUit9Y2KBJ9gKa_m5rEyNl7vZhyphenhyphen-dNe_JF_YWLZy49q2w2KcubgsmEBj-cyUDjhx5oNO-IODTRC-AbqDQSoqJP0/s640/blogger-image--949142412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-Cx46k-eOYQskP_ThswXGSQwNI9wOTPnrxs4bCxQIDs3Q43yJKtGvUit9Y2KBJ9gKa_m5rEyNl7vZhyphenhyphen-dNe_JF_YWLZy49q2w2KcubgsmEBj-cyUDjhx5oNO-IODTRC-AbqDQSoqJP0/s640/blogger-image--949142412.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-84806251551072838962015-03-24T10:30:00.000-04:002015-03-24T10:30:08.843-04:00Lament for the Big Sister <div>
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"Oh, look at Vivi! Isn't she cute? Isn't she clever? Isn't she funny?" </div>
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Those words pour through our house and hover in the air around our heads as Vivi learns a new skill, a new way to thrill and delight us, on a daily basis. We "Oooh" and "Ahh" over her. We praise and cuddle her. Vivi takes up a lot of our time. She takes up a lot of attention.<br />
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A few weeks ago, I wrote about some of the drama that exists between my two girls as they grow together as sisters. Vivi, even at fifteen months, can cut a look at Madeline harsh enough to freeze water. But as it turns out, Madeline has a few looks of her own:<br />
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Doesn't her face just seem to be saying, "What the heck is her problem?" <br />
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I didn't notice Madeline's facial expression until I looked back at these pictures on my phone several days after they were taken, at which point Eric and I had a laugh. Then I looked again, and again, and the picture started to make me sad. <br />
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We captured Madeline's feelings through the lens of my phone, but nobody noticed her in real life because all eyes were on her little sister. This has become her life as the big sister. Stories get interrupted. Games get destroyed. Her needs sometimes get ignored. <br />
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We fawned over Madeline once, perhaps even more so than Vivi since she was the only star in our sky. We remind her of this, but of course she doesn't remember. <br />
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Meanwhile, the list of offenses grows longer. </div>
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Vivi picks up a canister of markers and dumps it across the floor. We laugh. Maddie sees the attention, and dumps the canister of crayons, a giant grin in her face. We scold. She's a big kid. She knows better. </div>
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Maddie climbs the banister, "Look what I can do, Mumma!" I don't mind until her littler sister tries to follow her up. The game is over, and Madeline is told to get down. She has to set a good example. </div>
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Maddie wants me to play Play-Dough with her. She's been asking for a week, but there's little time for us to be alone. We give it a try, with Vivi in my lap. Two minutes in, Vivi eats a chunk of the pink. I put her down, and she claws at my leg in tears. Maddie ends up playing alone. </div>
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Maddie's new magazine arrives in the mail, and she's eager to read it. Vivi wants to see too, and so I lay the pages on the floor for them to share. Vivi keeps sitting on the pages so Maddie can't see. Madeline gets frustrated and head-butts her sister. Madeline gets in trouble. </div>
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There's a pile of toys that need to be cleaned up before bedtime. "Vivi played with them too! She has to help," Madeline argues. I tell her that Vivi doesn't know how to clean up yet, and that we have to show her how. Maddie carefully sorts the toys into separate baskets, and as soon as she rounds up all the blocks, her little sisters dumps them back out. <br />
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We had to leave Madeline's field trip to the athletic center early last week to make it to one of Vivi's doctor's appointments. She missed pajama day last month because Vivi had conjunctivitis and I was worried Madeline would infect the whole school. She never did end up getting it. </div>
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It's all so unfair being the big sister. Sometimes I see it. Sometimes I don't.<br />
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There's a delicate balance between ensuring Madeline feels important, and teaching her to make room in her world for others. Sometimes I manage to make it work, and sometimes I fail miserably.<br />
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Besides, as the baby of the family, Vivi has a growing list of injustices too. That's a post for another day.<br />
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I must say, Madeline handles her role as big sister beautifully. She doesn't complain much. She doesn't throw tantrums or stomp her feet. She protests quietly with those secret dirty looks and occasional tattles. </div>
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I just want you to know, Madeline, that I see you, and that I'm trying my best. </div>
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-90736616345391897012015-03-23T10:23:00.005-04:002015-03-23T10:23:53.888-04:00Vivi: Fifteen MonthsDear Vivienne,<br />
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You are quite the toddler now. You're constantly on the go. You zoom around the house from dawn to dusk. We should put a pedometer on you. I bet your little legs walk miles around this house before the day is out. </div>
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Taking you places is becoming harder because you want to get down to explore. You only last so long in restaurants, and you try to climb out of the grocery cart at the supermarket. For a baby who spent most of her life hiding from strangers, you aren't worried about staying with us either. You're off without so much as a backward glance to make sure we're following you. In fact, you think it's all so hilarious when Mumma has to chase after you. The aisles at the library are endless fun because you can run ahead of me without me worrying about losing you in the crowds. <br />
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The stranger danger phase is over. You might be a little wary of new people, but you warm up quickly. Madeline had a field trip to a local indoor sports center last week, and you ran around with the big kids like a champ. You had no problem demanding balls to play with from kids and grownups alike. </div>
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You are demanding at home too. You point and grunt with great persistence. You cry when you don't get what you want. No is a tough lesson to learn, but you're starting to get the hang of it. </div>
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When you want a snack, you know where to go. You run to the kitchen and point at the cabinet door until I find you a cracker to munch. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even with a spill-proof container, you find a way to dump your cereal on the floor.</td></tr>
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You nod and say, "Yeah" in response to a lot of our questions. Sometimes it's obvious that you know what we're talking about.<br />
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"Vivi, do you want a snack?"<br />
"Yeah, yeah!" head nod. "Mmmmm." <br />
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At other times, you clearly have no idea what we're talking about, but you're willing to give it a try anyhow. </div>
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"Vivi, do you like snakes?" Dada will ask. <br />
"Yeah, yeah!" you nod. <br />
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Along with "Yeah," you've picked up some other new words. Mumma and Dada are down. But you also say, bubba, belly, baby, and juice. You try to say Madeline. Sometimes it's "Duh" sometimes it's "Mah-Duh" sometimes it's "Ine-ine-ine." </div>
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Poor Madeline. You've started terrorizing your big sister a bit more. The other afternoon I heard a terrible whining noise from where you two were playing. Maddie was sitting at the dining room table with her guys, and you were tugging roughly on her arms and screeching loudly to get her attention. Maddie, good big sister that she is, tried her best to ignore you, only letting out an occasional grunt of annoyance. Yesterday, you pulled her hair pretty hard when she wouldn't let you see her Lego castle. I understand that it's frustrating, Vivi, but you can not pull your sister's hair. Ouch. I'm waiting for the day that big sister turns around and slugs you. </div>
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You had a follow-up with GI last week, and everything is looking great. You weigh 18 lbs, 4 oz, which puts you in the 10th percentile. You're curving upwards! Your skin is clear. There's very little rash remaining on your body. I'm interested to see how you do this summer because that's when your skin really gave us trouble last year. The sweaty creases of your body were a mess. You still get bad BMs on occasion, but we know how to manage them now to keep the discomfort minimal. <br />
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The limitations in your diet is starting to get a bit more tricky because you're starting to notice that you're getting different foods than the rest of us. We try to eat the same thing, or at least close to it, for dinner. But if you see Madeline with a treat you can't have, it drives you crazy. I've started stocking the pantry with Vivi-friendly treats to make up for it. <br />
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You love fruit and pasta. You LOVE bread. Dinner rolls are where it's at. I still can't get you to eat any veggies unless they are mixed in a puree with fruit. The only meat we've been able to get you to eat was in a taco, which is the same for Madeline. My girls love tacos. Go figure! And, you're warming up to almond milk. <br />
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Above all, you're such a sweet, happy, plucky little thing that we all simply adore you. <br />
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Love,<br />
Mumma </div>
Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-27659564314922288892015-03-17T07:01:00.001-04:002015-03-17T07:01:00.345-04:00St. Patty's Day TipDid you know that if you give your toddler a handful of her sister's Lucky Charms for breakfast, she will actually turn into a leprechaun? <div><br></div><div>Proof!</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfQjV_wqAIrwYZOtj4JEuCwstDVC6ez5QWbre2pNGRJMigIjtdwQzNvsJ7jeNsopPf8s58D1TApoU41GhZlvQ6sXQWZG_ZKqNoqWwoG5lpZNaq9ldPwfKWr0w1Mltbp3N9mmg1SJrHAs/s640/blogger-image--996375185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfQjV_wqAIrwYZOtj4JEuCwstDVC6ez5QWbre2pNGRJMigIjtdwQzNvsJ7jeNsopPf8s58D1TApoU41GhZlvQ6sXQWZG_ZKqNoqWwoG5lpZNaq9ldPwfKWr0w1Mltbp3N9mmg1SJrHAs/s640/blogger-image--996375185.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6KbybzBQo7owHChM-53Hil58tVauZcr5wIeFs4iocv-87LQxQjAka23yN3_wz97plDpBxfJ0qLnl_wXBie5rjva2cMXBOTtbkIFEwK1q9Xo3f0CZ5eL_yL_lcY268m2VdcK-zvSdLXo0/s640/blogger-image-1675130505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6KbybzBQo7owHChM-53Hil58tVauZcr5wIeFs4iocv-87LQxQjAka23yN3_wz97plDpBxfJ0qLnl_wXBie5rjva2cMXBOTtbkIFEwK1q9Xo3f0CZ5eL_yL_lcY268m2VdcK-zvSdLXo0/s640/blogger-image-1675130505.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The effects only last a few minutes...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFYAQAPYYJoPT7CHbKZ1wawz2g7G311WOKVHgIhgjc9nIc553etv6OcZCRa-rdTsxO5NTwElbtpG3JB__hFdgIieR15hz93PV4kVRV7QGiOj3JA4qyH9FfQXSAaTlhH9TxUFK_QPNwKUA/s640/blogger-image-1180989416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFYAQAPYYJoPT7CHbKZ1wawz2g7G311WOKVHgIhgjc9nIc553etv6OcZCRa-rdTsxO5NTwElbtpG3JB__hFdgIieR15hz93PV4kVRV7QGiOj3JA4qyH9FfQXSAaTlhH9TxUFK_QPNwKUA/s640/blogger-image-1180989416.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Happy St. Patrick's Day! Eat those Lucky Charms with caution...</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-35586465971542780422015-03-16T10:42:00.000-04:002015-03-16T10:42:53.484-04:00Letters to Maddie Bear: 4.5<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<br />
Dear Maddie Bear,<br />
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You are now officially four and a half. In six short months you will be five, and that's such a hard concept to wrap my brain around that I may never believe it. <br />
<br />
A part of me wishes I could keep you four in my mind forever, but that's impossible. Every few months I stop to realize that the younger version of you has vanished, and you have become a completely different person. I can see it when I look at old pictures, some just taken a few months ago, and I'm startled to see how much you've grown. Then I realize that there are funny little games you used to play that no longer amuse you. Words you used to say wrong get corrected and replaced. Memories of places we went or things we did vanish from your mind. Finally, I accept that the little girl in the photograph is gone forever, and I get a bit sad. I understand, for a brief second, why every old lady in the grocery store stops to remind me of how fast it flies by. <br />
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Luckily, though you change so fast, the new versions of you just keep getting better and better. </div>
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You're such a great kid, Madeline. You really are. You're funny, smart, and considerate of others. You're curious about everything. Your imagination astounds me. And you're just so, so lovely. Three was a tough age full of doubt and drama and tantrums. Four, so far, has been just wonderful. <br />
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You started dance lessons again this winter, and you love it. Your class is a combination of ballet and tap, but you like tap better. You listen to the teacher and follow along beautifully. Watching you dance every Saturday morning is one of the highlights of my week because you have such fun with it. <br />
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You're reserved around other children and adults. While the other little ballerinas hold hands and chat away at the teacher, you mostly keep to yourself. It's not that your shy. You're friendly, and you ask the teacher for help when you need it. You just tend to keep your distance. <br />
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I've noticed the same pattern at school. You love your teachers. You love your friends. You come home with a million stories of the games you played. But, while the other kids run to give the teacher a hug as soon as they enter the room, I have to prod you to even say hello. By the time I pick you up, you've warmed up and are bouncing around with the rest of the kids. It seems like you'd just rather observe the situation carefully before diving in for the fun. <br />
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Meanwhile, you never stop talking at home. In the car, the random questions and observations sometimes come so fast that I don't have a chance to even reply. There's just a steady stream of Maddie Bear chattering from the backseat. <br />
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You've become quite the Taylor Swift fan. We listen to her in the car, and you know all the lyrics to all of her songs. If we're tired of Taylor Swift, you request Disney music. You still like classical music and show tunes. You do not like the Beatles, which is sad. <br />
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It's been a long winter of being couped up indoors. You've developed the habit of running around in circles every evening around 5 pm. It's as if all the energy in your little body can no longer be contained, and you just have to run. <br />
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You're a great big sister. You help me take care of Vivienne. You give her hugs and hold her hand at the library so that she can't run away from Mumma. Sometimes you get upset when you have to share your toys or when she tries to eat your food. It's understandable. We're working on ways to distract her from your toys instead of shrieking at her when you get frustrated. You still like to treat her like a dog sometimes by making her play fetch or trying to trap her in a box/ doghouse. But mostly, you guys are great together. <br />
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You ask for alone time most days, and we try our best to give it to you. You can shut yourself in the playroom where Vivi can't bother you. The entire time you're in there, we hear high-pitched talking from the other side of the door as you play with your dolls. Vivi lays on her belly and tries to peer under the door at you. <br />
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We let you stay up late to play games or watch a movie with Mumma and Dada every now and again. We watched Big Hero 6 last week. Toward the end, you looked a little scared, so I asked if you wanted to stop the movie. You said yes and climbed right into bed with your eyes open wide in fright. I felt like a terrible mother. We traumatized you by forcing you to watch a superhero cartoon with us. <br />
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You're still working on your letters and how to write. You were reluctant to learn for a long time. I think you sometimes have trouble figuring out which hand to write with. You're a lefty when you write, but a righty for almost everything else. I downloaded a preschool app that lets you practice writing, but you use your right hand on the screen instead of your left. It's very interesting to watch. <br />
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Meanwhile, you're drawing like a fiend all of a sudden. For the longest time, you would just scribble colors without trying to make any pictures. Now, you draw people and houses and dogs. I love it. Last week you drew me the solar system and some black holes because you're learning about space at school. Then you drew a picture of the two of us, complete with "sun kisses" (freckles). It's awesome. <br />
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We went to get your haircut last week. You decided that you wanted bangs like your cousin, so we gave it a try, and you look so much older. The shorter hair is a bit curlier and unruly, but you look adorable. <br />
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I brought you to see Cinderella over the weekend to celebrate your half birthday. It was a long movie, and you got a little fidgety toward the middle, but you were a good girl and stayed in your seat the whole time. It's always a treat to have time just with you. <br />
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You've been playing Cinderella since we saw the movie, but you like to pretend to be the stepsisters. You made Vivi be Cinderella the other day and bossed her around. Vivi obviously didn't mind, and I think you were having fun being bratty to your sister. <br />
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You're the best, Miss Madeline. The best four-and-a-half-year-old kiddo in the whole universe.<br />
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I love you! <br />
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Mumma</div>
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-50752557467540579622015-03-12T11:11:00.001-04:002015-03-12T15:47:15.592-04:00The Girls' Bedroom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The last time I mentioned the girls' bedroom on the blog was back in the summer of 2013 when we were getting it spruced up for Vivi's arrival. It's changed a lot since then, so I thought I'd post some pictures. </div>
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There's still more to be done. I think there will always be more to be done. And, on the off chance that I do ever "finish" their room, they will probably be old enough to want to change everything about it anyhow. The room is very pink because it's Madeline's favorite, but we joke that someday Vivi will paint her half black in protest. In the meantime, I get to have fun and do what I want in there. </div>
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There is only one window in the room. It lets in a lot of light though. My iPhone pictures are a little washed out, but the removable polka dots on the wall are metallic gold. The walls are a very pale pink/peach. I love that color. I would paint the whole house that color if Eric could stomach it. </div>
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<br><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1v26SIKqtjeYsDZc3SCxxg4_zb49-MS4u9uGNnLUc6nhu474U2NERhKBZn4wvezRD7YtPp3_234vGvHQoKrHWTpyUW4MMl3PbFSPaKbsAe1DLpdOxIdx0yJf-aE_A3J5QtenulBeVegQ/s1600/girls+room+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1v26SIKqtjeYsDZc3SCxxg4_zb49-MS4u9uGNnLUc6nhu474U2NERhKBZn4wvezRD7YtPp3_234vGvHQoKrHWTpyUW4MMl3PbFSPaKbsAe1DLpdOxIdx0yJf-aE_A3J5QtenulBeVegQ/s1600/girls+room+8.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a></div>
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As you can see, the ceiling is sloped on Madeline's side of the room under the eaves of the house, which makes fitting furniture a little awkward. Still, I think Madeline feels cozy nestled into the corner at night. Her bed is pretty high off the ground, so she uses a rail to hold her in. </div>
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There isn't enough space between her bed and the radiator for a nightstand, so I have plans to add some small book racks on the wall. When I check on her at night, she always has piles and piles of books surrounding her, so maybe she'll be more comfortable if she has someplace to keep them. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEpvFc0nqpigtTahZksenggbCPkg2AuNjvZBCeRi_k2ZPNPKzkhV-CLdXZBMvem_tnlWmOzYZLnJBVv3P5fjlb2WwrVwNb5kiXbVd1vrV49UTKgTk5KgEuykLMHSs1gm-wvjfGjSIHMo/s1600/girls+room+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEpvFc0nqpigtTahZksenggbCPkg2AuNjvZBCeRi_k2ZPNPKzkhV-CLdXZBMvem_tnlWmOzYZLnJBVv3P5fjlb2WwrVwNb5kiXbVd1vrV49UTKgTk5KgEuykLMHSs1gm-wvjfGjSIHMo/s1600/girls+room+3.jpg" height="266" width="400"></a></div>
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Madeline's dresser and bookshelf are at the foot of her bed. The dressers are from Ikea. I painted them a shade darker than the walls. </div>
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The bookshelf fits perfectly under the eaves and behind the closet door. We keep our oversized books, hair ribbons, and a piggy bank on the top. The shade on the lamp broke, so that needs to be replaced. There's also an embroidery sampler that I found at a thrift store hanging on the wall that reads, "Love is Awesome." </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJOTT5mYRpoEQKDGiLWCPEm_q3djXTAmN3MMVxsgoCSFxlznkXQuf51PSOPD4C-zfAAb1sEjVjkai0-phzg-cYk2l6eojxKtm68U6oCpSWTAJTE7wc1z6pZZW-fhECquZq1W2eqrohIU/s1600/girls+room+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJOTT5mYRpoEQKDGiLWCPEm_q3djXTAmN3MMVxsgoCSFxlznkXQuf51PSOPD4C-zfAAb1sEjVjkai0-phzg-cYk2l6eojxKtm68U6oCpSWTAJTE7wc1z6pZZW-fhECquZq1W2eqrohIU/s1600/girls+room+7.jpg" height="263" width="400"></a></div>
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Madeline's banner is left over from her first birthday party. They are printable letters from Martha Stewart's website. The mushroom nightlight was a present for Maddie's first Christmas. </div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4YtdAVuMNgF6qCNSqNOuus60WUtYMq2D8Znc43ZhYL82z20yQor6ALHoZXIlkkQxp7FKdPTC1snCxRs_rds0OhKRUgJqWeHn05X_pB9qtv_GkXUf2qFgAKJKQrFFP_M84S_BXy5tK14/s1600/girls+room+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4YtdAVuMNgF6qCNSqNOuus60WUtYMq2D8Znc43ZhYL82z20yQor6ALHoZXIlkkQxp7FKdPTC1snCxRs_rds0OhKRUgJqWeHn05X_pB9qtv_GkXUf2qFgAKJKQrFFP_M84S_BXy5tK14/s1600/girls+room+6.jpg" height="312" width="400"></a><br>
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See that yellow spot on the ceiling next to the closet door in the photo below ? That's some recent water damage resulting from the winter from hell. The ice dams on that side of the house were pretty bad since it never gets any sun and is too high for Eric to reach. I'm not sure how to fix that spot, but it's on the list. </div>
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This wall faces the window. There's a random rectangular column in the middle of it that encases our chimney. The shelves house an old iPod dock that we use as a sound machine, their snowglobe collection, and some delicate toys. My sister passed that glider along to us when Madeline was born. I still use it to rock Vivi to sleep. When we're done with it, that space will be perfect for a desk or some bean bag chairs. </div>
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This corner of the room is rarely neat as it is usually covered in books, shoes from the closet, (my girls have a thing about trying on ALL the shoes) and stuffed animals from the basket. Vivi is working on taking out some books in this very picture. About two minutes after this it was taken, this corner was a mess again. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiml287AG8704ew2HWsFxsPLTB4KZhLeLM8Efz0WZfsy34S9yShw7G9gCNLp405dOHw9dNXPduDsRBwsoS7S6IzqQKUhgOu73T8anc4Qfynlaf1T9EhLQW-NNjH0SygdCphnfr_LgteW-I/s1600/girls+room+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiml287AG8704ew2HWsFxsPLTB4KZhLeLM8Efz0WZfsy34S9yShw7G9gCNLp405dOHw9dNXPduDsRBwsoS7S6IzqQKUhgOu73T8anc4Qfynlaf1T9EhLQW-NNjH0SygdCphnfr_LgteW-I/s1600/girls+room+5.jpg" height="400" width="317"></a></div>
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Vivi's name banner is hanging from the shelves temporarily. We had it above her dresser, but she kept pulling it off the wall. Babies. <br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5P3ijEhu4YzpHsGMfWeApHuRezJuRIJ_OP0Icv5gWvMybgXHfgdAmv8vdvyigLuHiCaJOLj0I7qQjk-E39NAWQSUZ2k8rJ8ZDhAC6wxFiVu7liI_z0_EPT4fAAirFYWXiBhvA61SG_rg/s1600/girls+room+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5P3ijEhu4YzpHsGMfWeApHuRezJuRIJ_OP0Icv5gWvMybgXHfgdAmv8vdvyigLuHiCaJOLj0I7qQjk-E39NAWQSUZ2k8rJ8ZDhAC6wxFiVu7liI_z0_EPT4fAAirFYWXiBhvA61SG_rg/s1600/girls+room+2.jpg" height="400" width="316"></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Vivi's side of the room is still rather bare. We use Viv's dresser as her changing table, although the older she gets, the less we actually change her diaper up there. Vivi uses the same blue crib from the old apartment that Madeline used. It converts into a toddler bed, so she'll be in it for a while. Eventually we'll either get a bed to match Madeline's, or we're considering bunk beds along that wall. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-tn1paLU5iN6G8FhPcVA6eSGdfvSQVQSRAlkeCooRRoXIL4CiRHLDqh2jCTGRvBprTMkHd1GYJiz8T5Qirtx8QOZmDy2O2xxJY741_f-hQnarch_hhXvptN48C6ph8sKpm1qoZR-3Z4/s1600/girls+room+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-tn1paLU5iN6G8FhPcVA6eSGdfvSQVQSRAlkeCooRRoXIL4CiRHLDqh2jCTGRvBprTMkHd1GYJiz8T5Qirtx8QOZmDy2O2xxJY741_f-hQnarch_hhXvptN48C6ph8sKpm1qoZR-3Z4/s1600/girls+room+4.jpg" height="266" width="400"></a></div>
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The old butterfly mobil I made while pregnant with Maddie is hanging above Vivi's crib just out of reach. She really likes to watch it, but it's kinda out of place there. <br>
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I still want to change the light fixture above Madeline's bed. We have that same fixture throughout our house. It's heavy, black, and very Victorian looking. <br>
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The curtains have a pink pompom trim that I added to a set of plain Ikea curtains. Ikea curtains are wicked inexpensive. Like, you can't buy fabric that cheap. I was sold. <br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oyv1zo-7cS_JlkSUTlSXSyjgwuHbb9VsoGaQn9wpHvoP1S_5iUMye1NvZyVvGkJlDL8bYsTLUYz3q0L6-jUKSMpo6qv_z81iomnpVVtvqGt7mNiTBqsFsqewwZQHFkQH7Xa3TCV_itE/s1600/girls+room+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oyv1zo-7cS_JlkSUTlSXSyjgwuHbb9VsoGaQn9wpHvoP1S_5iUMye1NvZyVvGkJlDL8bYsTLUYz3q0L6-jUKSMpo6qv_z81iomnpVVtvqGt7mNiTBqsFsqewwZQHFkQH7Xa3TCV_itE/s1600/girls+room+1.jpg" height="266" width="400"></a></div>
<br>So that's where my girls sleep, play, and plot future world domination. <br>
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<br>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-78817649789806228322015-03-11T10:59:00.001-04:002015-03-11T10:59:02.870-04:00I Just Want to Be Clean I'm always a little jealous of my coworkers' desks at school. They are neat and tidy with color-coded folders, tabbed lesson books, and carefully placed figurines that read something like, "Teachers Poop Rainbows on a Cloudy Day." They look, in short, what an educator's desk<i> should </i>look like. Neat. Professional. Organized. <br />
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The only two days my desk looks like that is on the first and last day of the school year. In the space between, it's almost always covered in piles of paper, student projects, long-forgotten lesson books, and old Tupperware containers. And I can never find a working pen or the hall passes. </div>
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My desk could be featured in one of those afternoon specials they use as a warning in health class. My desk chose the wrong path in life, kids. Don't be like that desk. <br />
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It's not that I don't want my desk to be a role model for other desks. I'm not lazy. I care. It's just that my brain doesn't work that way. My thoughts are not organized and tidy. As a result, I have a hard time keeping things in order. </div>
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If you had met me in my twenties, my entire life looked like my messy desk. My car, my purse, my apartment. It was all a hot mess of laundry piles and Styrofoam coffee cups. </div>
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But I didn't mind. I didn't even see the mess. I knew just which pile of papers my bills were tossed in, and I knew which pile of shoes contained the boots I was looking for. That's all that mattered. </div>
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Then, sometime shortly after giving birth to Madeline, things began to change. Maybe it was what they call "nesting." Maybe my new mommy brain was cluttered enough already without adding piles of crafting supplies to the mix. Maybe being a parent simply means that you choose to not let your offspring grow up in squalor whenever possible. Whatever the reason, something in my brain snapped. I <i>see</i> the mess now. I can't stand living that way any longer. <br />
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I want things neat. I want things organized. I want to be able to find my damn car keys and phone and boots the second that I need them. </div>
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So if you want to know how motherhood has changed me the most. This is it. It's not the capacity to love someone more than myself. It's the desire to have a color-coded food-storage system in the pantry.<br />
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Now, I don't just wash my clothes, but I actually take the time to put the laundry away. I dust. I vacuum. A lot. I sweep. A lot. I throw the mail out instead of letting it pile up on all the flat surfaces. I disinfect. I sort. I organize. <br />
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Is my life any less cluttered? Does my world now resemble a Febreze commercial? <br />
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No. </div>
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Sadly the joke is on me. Those darn, beautiful children of mine, who pushed me to change my filthy ways in the first place, just keep making more messes. I follow them around the house wiping blueberry fingerprints off the furniture and nagging Maddie to pick up her puzzle pieces. </div>
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I'm stuck in some sort of Sisyphean hell of my own making where I spend my days cleaning, and cleaning, and cleaning. Yet, our house never gets any cleaner. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We spent the morning cleaning their room. Then this happened. </td></tr>
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I've tried staying on top of the mess, but that just means that I do nothing but clean every waking moment of my life. I've tried ignoring the mess, opting to clean it all in one swift swoop. That just makes living here unbearable. I've tried scheduling my cleaning. Yet, on the days that I'm scheduled to scrub the kitchen floor, I find that the bathroom floor really needs it more.<br />
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And my brain! My disorganized, wandering, cluttered brain! Why must you decide that the closet needs reorganizing half way through cleaning the living room? <br />
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I don't know what the answer is. I need a maid. A new brain would be great too. You know what? Just send me Martha Stewart. <br />
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Meanwhile, I go back to work next fall. This will give me a reprieve from spending my days cleaning up after two mini mess monsters. I bet my desk is shaking at the thought of my return though. It's probably never looked so good than in my absence. Sorry desk. </div>
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-89136564174135790722015-03-10T19:31:00.002-04:002015-03-10T19:31:41.704-04:00Other People DO Exist, And Maybe They're Not So Bad Recently Vivi has had a breakthrough. She seems to have accepted the fact that other people exist in the world. More importantly, she has decided that since they exist, she might as well like them. It only took her fourteen months, but baby girl is making friends. <br />
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For example, Nana and Pop visited over the weekend, and even though she hadn't seen them since Christmas, she let them both hold her without so much as a whimper. They read stories, played games, held hands. Life is good with Nana and Pop, Vivi decided. <br />
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Then Amy, my best friend, came over on Sunday afternoon. There was a time when Vivi wouldn't even look at her. Now? She cuddles with Amy too. </div>
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And yesterday, when my mom came over, Vivi toddled right over to sit in her lap. </div>
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There were no tears, no clinging to Mumma in fear, no awkward introduction period even though she's met these people more times than we could count. She's all good. <br />
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We can even go out in public without her bursting into tears every time a stranger glances her way. <br />
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She didn't mind the random old man who patted her on the head at CVS then called Madeline a "handsome fella." (Although she probably shouldn't make friends with that guy.) She went around handing plastic balls to several dads at the playground on Saturday morning. She tried to make friends with another baby at the bookstore by standing awkwardly close and staring at her. (That's how I make friends too.) <br />
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On the other hand, she gave the stink eye to a perfectly nice waitress who smiled at her today. She didn't like a nurse we saw last week, or one of those cashiers at the supermarket yesterday. Nor did she enjoy a different baby we met at the library recently. <br />
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But that's okay. She doesn't have to like everyone, and she <i>should</i> be a little wary of strangers. Besides, who knows? Maybe that baby at the library was a real bastard. Vivi knows. <br />
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-73154850919709320222015-03-04T10:11:00.002-05:002015-03-04T10:18:07.800-05:00Sick<div>
We are sick people living in a sick world. Literally. We have germs, and I've had it up to here with them. </div>
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I'm not one of those people who spends the entire winter longing for warm weather. I enjoy the changing seasons, although I hate heat, and cannot imagine living someplace without snow.</div>
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But this year? I'm that person. Enough is enough! Too much snow! Too much cold! Too many days stuck indoors! Too many recirculating germs! </div>
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I feel like I've been experiencing some form of illness or another since Christmas. I know we're not alone. It's like the entire state has been sharing lip balm. <i>Everyone</i> is sick. </div>
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We need open windows! We need fresh air! We need to get the sick out of our systems! I've been spraying everything with Lysol, and I HATE the smell of Lysol. </div>
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This week it's Vivi's turn to be ill. I think she has the same stomach virus that I had three weeks ago. Her symptoms are the same. But three weeks later? Could that be? Come on! This bastard should have been out of our lives by now. Take a hint, dude. Nobody likes you. </div>
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Thankfully, due to years spent in the germ factory that is daycare, Madeline seems to have the immune system of a lead box. She hasn't been sick much this winter at all. (Knock on wood!) Although she has had to miss school a few times because her sister or mumma were too sick. Poor girl. <br />
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Likewise, Eric very rarely gets sick. I joke that he's the Typhoid Mary of the family. I'm convinced that he brings all these germs home from work, but never shows any symptoms. That stomach bug that took three weeks to work its way into Vivi? It's probably been lounging in Eric playing video games and drinking beer for the past month. <br />
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Sigh...so I guess it's really just me who is sick all the time. Dammit. Maybe it's a lack of vitamin D. This pale skin is good for nothing. Maybe I should start bathing in Lysol. Maybe I should stop wiping my children's noses and let them figure it out. Maybe I should wear rubber gloves every time I go to the grocery store. I swear that's where we pick up a lot of crap. Stop breathing on everything, you germ-y strangers. <br />
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Come on, spring! </div>
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-54807287109975158932015-03-03T10:40:00.002-05:002015-03-03T10:40:46.324-05:00Vivi Eats: Life With Food Allergies 4This is the last "Vivi Eats" for awhile. After four weeks of these updates, you're probably getting the idea. Avoid dairy, eggs, and peanuts...yada, yada, yada...and she loves blueberries! <br />
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If you want a recap, see <a href="http://www.ourlittlebabywl.blogspot.com/2015/02/vivi-eats-life-with-food-allergies.html">here</a>, <a href="http://www.ourlittlebabywl.blogspot.com/2015/02/vivi-eats-life-with-food-allergies-2.html">here</a>, and <a href="http://www.ourlittlebabywl.blogspot.com/2015/02/vivi-eats-life-with-food-allergies-3.html">here</a>. </div>
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Otherwise, this is what Vivi ate on Monday:</div>
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<u><b>Pre-Breakfast:</b></u></div>
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Dry Cheerios</div>
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Juice/ Water mix</div>
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<b><u>Breakfast</u></b>:</div>
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Thomas' Cinnamon Raisin Bagels</div>
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Blueberries</div>
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Juice/ Water (leftover from pre-breakfast) </div>
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<i>We tried these bagels out for the first time this week, and she loves them! She likes them plain, but I'm trying to convince her that they're better covered in jam. </i></div>
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<b><u>Nap</u></b>:</div>
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8 oz Nutramigen formula</div>
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<b><u>Lunch</u></b>:</div>
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Sunbutter and jelly roll up (using Joseph's lavish bread) </div>
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Watermelon</div>
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Frozen peas (she did not eat)</div>
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Almond Milk </div>
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<b><u>Snack</u></b>:</div>
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Wheat Thins</div>
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Clementine (which she saw me eating and stole) </div>
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Almond Milk</div>
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<b><u>Dinner</u></b>:</div>
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Baked lemon chicken</div>
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Rice Pilaf</div>
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Broccoli</div>
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Almond Milk</div>
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<i>I chopped the chicken and broccoli into super tiny pieces and mixed them with the rice. Vivi LOVES rice, so she didn't notice the additions while she was busy shoveling fistfuls of food in her mouth. </i></div>
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<b><u>Bedtime</u></b>: </div>
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8 oz Nutramigen Formula </div>
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<i>Vivi doesn't like almond milk that much, and she likes coconut and soy milk even less. Even though I offer her almond milk throughout the day, she rarely takes more than a few sips. We ran out of formula the other morning, so we tried giving her almond milk in her bottle instead. She drank for about three minutes before she realized that something was different. Then she was mad. Really mad. Mad enough to yell right through her nap. Boo. She might be drinking Nutramigen till she's sixteen, and insurance is no longer covering it...so awesome...</i></div>
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-48985970306265343992015-03-02T11:08:00.003-05:002015-03-02T11:08:37.245-05:00Sister DramaVivi gets angry when I brush her big sister's hair. She whines, screeches, and tries to claw her way between us. I'm not sure if she's jealous of the attention I'm giving Madeline, or if she's jealous of the fact that Madeline has hair while she doesn't. Either way, it's a problem. <br />
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After her usual tantrum yesterday, she suddenly gave up whining, snatched book Madeline was reading out of her hands, and toddled quickly out of reach. </div>
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Since I had Madeline gripped firmly by the hair, there wasn't much the poor girl could do to defend herself other than cry out, "Hey! Vivi! Mumma, Vivi just took the book I was reading right out of my hands!" </div>
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I looked up in time to see a look shoot across the room from one sister to another. THE look. An evil, vindictive, glass-cutting glare. And it was coming not from Madeline, but from my baby! </div>
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It only lasted a second, but it was enough. The message was clear. "You took my Mumna. I took your book! And if you cross me again, I'm gonna have to cut a bitch." </div>
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This was not an act of innocent babyhood. Stealing that book was vindictive. Calculated. Aggressive. <br />
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Somewhere beneath the chubby cheeks and doe eyes, there lurks the natural instinct to kill or be killed. Vivi does not intend to loose in life. Not now. Not ever. I admit. I was a little scared by what I witnessed. </div>
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By the time I finished Madeline's braid, the brush, the book, and the look had all been forgotten. They went right back to playing as if nothing had happened. <br />
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I've witnessed this pattern over and over again. For the briefest of seconds, after some wrong or another, they are worst enemies. Five seconds later, they are best buddies again. I don't pretend to understand it. I try my best to stay out of it and let nature take its course. Although, after seeing that look, I would watch my back if I were Madeline. <br />
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So, in an effort to help me forget that my sweet child may actually be Rosemary's Baby, here are some cute pictures of the girls loving one another. </div>
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The protect one another from the vacuum cleaner. <br />
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They watch cartoons together. </div>
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They share toys. </div>
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Maddie reads books to her little sister. </div>
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-80473376116114308392015-02-26T22:57:00.001-05:002015-02-27T07:37:43.117-05:00That Vivi in the WindowVivi loves to look out the windows of our house. <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6pGw47Ps511wDzvGOvjrO4qD1ZPaoL8k0mTK5mardnAgzBYmm3Daj2rbL1hRnHZHqVsJ9CiTPhAQjzAtZ7XtPgrlHo75QAOd_po0kzbcSMVyhH_dFS6TVfn_7RhFlb5rEU7ULRzcvgU/s640/blogger-image-943138044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6pGw47Ps511wDzvGOvjrO4qD1ZPaoL8k0mTK5mardnAgzBYmm3Daj2rbL1hRnHZHqVsJ9CiTPhAQjzAtZ7XtPgrlHo75QAOd_po0kzbcSMVyhH_dFS6TVfn_7RhFlb5rEU7ULRzcvgU/s640/blogger-image-943138044.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>I like to think that she's having deep thoughts about life, love, and truth like whether that darn dress is black or gold. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6r1FKzxFaXCOjLb1G8hRQpIjm36qwdzu-aJFB7L296rpNqFOkGHZ6W1Me9RRiXuNeMij9WqSUvs26gcL22gP11rplvXWwOSItmLuAGLGacfDtJ6p8Tljp5njF4ybZ9Pv_7IY7rX-DI8/s640/blogger-image-1348766226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6r1FKzxFaXCOjLb1G8hRQpIjm36qwdzu-aJFB7L296rpNqFOkGHZ6W1Me9RRiXuNeMij9WqSUvs26gcL22gP11rplvXWwOSItmLuAGLGacfDtJ6p8Tljp5njF4ybZ9Pv_7IY7rX-DI8/s640/blogger-image-1348766226.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> Or maybe she's just nosy. Vivi could be the Gladys Kravitz of our neighborhood, and she knows everyone's dirty little secrets. Someday she will use this knowledge to bend the neighbors to her will. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gkp3ruv9Tb5gCdUxgaoaEAuthfc5MsIvxDnu7zVrjGVhBNuaJGLFTMPfxoSmDW0v7RFu2T0XbDPck-pcx01DDTrhu3pcVUAyf4EvDdBWCCXK572HnTR1hpQGop9IHIG7gV_RlIhR2mc/s640/blogger-image--1182332781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gkp3ruv9Tb5gCdUxgaoaEAuthfc5MsIvxDnu7zVrjGVhBNuaJGLFTMPfxoSmDW0v7RFu2T0XbDPck-pcx01DDTrhu3pcVUAyf4EvDdBWCCXK572HnTR1hpQGop9IHIG7gV_RlIhR2mc/s640/blogger-image--1182332781.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div>I saw what you did, Mrs. O'Sullivan. Now hand over those frozen blueberries and nobody ever has to know. </div><div><br></div><div>As long as she doesn't get Rear Windowed, this could lead to big things. She could be the blueberry mob boss of the Merrimack Valley. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgrqTfhJIjUiY5X07wc_Vpm1XUAPe0vEaFYwjWkTFzU3hjGBtBL1jYW_ichONIVM-L9mm6gpi3-9W3aBAmK8ProDZHWrkP9x0RXueENTFBrBdr3r8pDuLUzvp65_ZixI6el8dj_23ODE/s640/blogger-image-1943055417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgrqTfhJIjUiY5X07wc_Vpm1XUAPe0vEaFYwjWkTFzU3hjGBtBL1jYW_ichONIVM-L9mm6gpi3-9W3aBAmK8ProDZHWrkP9x0RXueENTFBrBdr3r8pDuLUzvp65_ZixI6el8dj_23ODE/s640/blogger-image-1943055417.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Or maybe it's been cold for so long that she doesn't know what outside is. After all, she has the long-term memory of a small rabbit, and it's been a really long winter. To Vivi, the world is made up of our house, the car, the entry-way to Maddie's school, and the supermarket. It's a small world after all. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXoJX4jZ91GnO1Wy6S42vQdTCrlFPQx-fFOmnMEBLWKk8cIpZf7qIb-dIqcd31c3_ob5bFzpgFoVpSm9fwCNj1EM89t-e-5b6oG0J9zJFu7Skt6Zu3zBXoF1nYt9Mr6FiGQEDLxG183w/s640/blogger-image--280469922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXoJX4jZ91GnO1Wy6S42vQdTCrlFPQx-fFOmnMEBLWKk8cIpZf7qIb-dIqcd31c3_ob5bFzpgFoVpSm9fwCNj1EM89t-e-5b6oG0J9zJFu7Skt6Zu3zBXoF1nYt9Mr6FiGQEDLxG183w/s640/blogger-image--280469922.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Someday, little one, there won't be snow over your head, and I'll bring you out into that magical place you see through the window panes. It will be great. </div>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-77389650732963325572015-02-26T11:00:00.000-05:002015-02-26T11:01:25.407-05:00Dollhouse Pillow<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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Once I saw<a href="http://www.abeautifulmess.com/2014/12/dollhouse-pillow.html"> this idea for a dollhouse pillow</a> at <a href="http://www.abeautifulmess.com/2014/12/dollhouse-pillow.html">A Beautiful Mess</a>, I HAD to make one for the girls' felt dolls. It may have taken me a year and half to finish the dolls, but it only took me a week to make the pillow such was my mania. </div>
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I followed my own pattern because I wanted it to look like our house with the bay window and bushes in the front, and I wanted to be able to use it for the felt dolls. However, there's a <a href="http://www.abeautifulmess.com/2014/12/dollhouse-pillow.html">tutorial at A Beautiful Mess</a> if you want to make your own. </div>
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I already had all the fabric on hand from old projects, so the only thing I had to buy was the Polyfill to stuff it. It took two bags, but with a coupon, it only cost me $15. Hooray! </div>
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The windows are pockets, and the front door opens. </div>
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And it's big. Really big. Here's a picture of Maddie (complete with bunny slippers and fairy dress) to get an idea of the scale. </div>
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We use the window pockets to store our felt paper dolls and their clothes. But I'm sure as time goes on, other trinkets and treasures will make their way into those pockets. </div>
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The front door opens up into a bed. Vivi really likes trying to tuck the dolls in. </div>
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I thought about adding more pockets and beds to the back of the pillow, but I decided to leave it plain in the end so that the girls have a flat, more comfortable, side to lean against. </div>
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The girls are big fans. They play with it. </div>
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But more often they lounge on it...</div>
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And Maddie really loves to bounce on it! </div>
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It's held up to the abuse well over the past three weeks. Fingers crossed that those stitches hold for the long term! </div>
<br />Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-69808680088549743072015-02-25T09:41:00.000-05:002015-02-25T09:41:23.399-05:00Vivi Eats: Life With Food Allergies 3<div>
Man, my child is becoming a very picky eater! A month ago she loved butternut squash! But tonight? My kitchen floor is plastered with the stuff. Plus, I don't think she's ever eaten a piece of meat without spitting it out. Madeline doesn't like meat much either unless it's in a taco. My girls are fruit and carb girls all the way. </div>
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As I mentioned <a href="http://www.ourlittlebabywl.blogspot.com/2015/02/vivi-eats-life-with-food-allergies-2.html">here </a>and <a href="http://ourlittlebabywl.blogspot.com/2015/02/vivi-eats-life-with-food-allergies.html">here</a>, Vivi is allergic to eggs, dairy, and peanuts. I'm sharing samples of what she eats, but this is in no way a complete picture of her diet. Some days she eats nothing but blueberries, and some days she surprises me by scarfing down an entire bowl of chicken soup. Babies...You feel me? </div>
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<u><b>Pre-Breakfast</b></u>: <br />
As always...<br />
Dry Cheerios<br />
Juice/Water mix<br />
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<b><u>Breakfast</u></b>:<br />
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Apple Raisin-Bran Bread<br />
Blueberries<br />
Banana<br />
Juice/Water mix (left over from pre-breakfast)<br />
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<i>I used the recipe on a box of Raisin-Bran to make the bread, but with dairy/egg free substitutions. (<a href="http://www.food.com/recipe/apple-raisin-bran-bread-457960">original recipe here</a>) I replaced the milk with almond milk, and I replaced the eggs with mashed banana. I left out the walnuts, and added shredded carrots and extra raisins instead. Yum! </i><br />
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<u><b>Nap</b></u>: <br />
8 oz. Nutramigen Formula<br />
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<b><u>Lunch</u></b>: <br />
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Avocado Quesadilla (using Joseph's Lavish Bread and Daiya "Cheese")<br />
Sliced Strawberries<br />
Almond Milk<br />
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<b><u>Afternoon Snack</u></b>:<br />
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Frozen Peas<br />
Back to Nature Honey Graham Sticks<br />
Almond Milk<br />
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My mother picked up some of those graham crackers for us last week. They are dairy, egg, peanut free. The girls share a bag for snack, and they are gone in about ten seconds. Madeline tried stealing Vivi's when she was done with hers today. Not cool, Maddie Bear. </i><br />
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<b><u>Dinner</u></b>:<br />
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Roast pork loin and veggies (which she did not eat and angrily threw to the floor)<br />
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Applesauce <br />
Almond Milk<br />
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Strawberries for dessert</div>
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<u><b>Bedtime</b></u>:</div>
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8 oz. Nutramigen formula<br />
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-15680933541772407452015-02-23T11:04:00.000-05:002015-02-24T10:24:03.349-05:00Vivi: Fourteen Months<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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The big news since last month's update, Little Miss Vivienne, is that you're walking now. One night you walked across the room like it was no big deal, and you haven't stopped since. </div>
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You remind me of a little wind-up toy toddling from room to room, round and round, following us everywhere. You never stop moving. </div>
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The other afternoon, Madeline giggled at something you had done and cried, "Mumma, Vivi is hilarious!" between chuckles.</div>
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Your sister is right. You are one funny baby who delights in making us laugh. </div>
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I found you sitting up in your crib after nap the other day with the blankets pulled up over your face. As I approached, you pulled them down suddenly, revealing a broad grin and wicked twinkle in your eye. "Surprise, Mumma! It's me!" You seemed to say. You know how to be silly to get a laugh from us. </div>
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You like looking at photographs. I have to keep my phone hidden because when you find it, all you want to do is look through the pictures for the afternoon. You find the pictures we have framed around the house and point at them. "Dat! Dat!" you insist until I say the name of the person in the photo. </div>
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"Yes, Vivi. That's Madeline. Yes. That's Dada." Then you laugh before pointing to the next photograph. </div>
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Another favorite game of yours is to make piles. You empty your toy box, toy by toy, into a neat pile, and when it's empty, you neatly put everything away again. </div>
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We recently took you to an indoor playground. You didn't like going in the baby ball pit, but you did really enjoy putting the balls back where they belonged. The other kids would make a mess, tossing balls everywhere, and you were thrilled to to clean up after them. </div>
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I had a pile of shoes in our front hall that needed to be brought upstairs. You took it upon yourself to carry every shoe to an empty cardboard box that your sister had been playing with. It made bringing them upstairs very easy. Thanks, Vivi! <br />
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You know how to point to your nose, eyes, and ears. That game can be repeated for an entire afternoon. </div>
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You like to bring me my hat. You thrust it at me until I put it on. Once I do, you laugh at me. I guess I look funny wearing hats. </div>
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You're still not saying many words, but boy, do you make a lot of noises. Sometimes you yell what sound like commands at us. Sometimes you babble short statements then look us deep in the eye as if checking for understanding. You shriek in frustration quite a bit, and follow me around the house whining for a good part of the day. <br />
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You need to be the center attention of my world. If I'm not focused on you because I'm doing laundry, or eating lunch, or talking to Madeline, you let me know how unacceptable that is. <br />
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You are demanding. But that's okay. The world needs more demanding women. </div>
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Thankfully, you're also mighty sweet. You love cuddles. You've started hugging me back, arms wrapped tightly around my neck. When Dada gets home from work, you toddle to him with your arms outstretched for him to pick you up. You've started crawling into Madeline's lap. You hug and throw yourself on your sister a lot actually. Maddie giggles and rubs your back while you sigh, "Awww" and "Ohhh." It's pretty darn adorable. <br />
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You're less stranger shy. You like members of our family now. You don't cry in the supermarket whenever an old lady glances your way anymore. We had a plumber at the house last week, and I was shocked at how chill you were around a perfect stranger who had entered our house. You kept your distance, but you kept toddling toward him, curious to see what he was up to. Meanwhile, big sister hid in the playroom until he was gone. </div>
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You have four perfect teeth, and based on the amount of gnawing you've been doing this week, we suspect more are on the way. </div>
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Your eyes are still green. Your hair is red and thickening in the back. We're entering the baby mullet phase. </div>
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You feel sturdier, more solid, in our arms. And you finally have a big, round baby belly. </div>
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You're growing, little one. So, so fast. And it's so, so fun watching it all unfold. </div>
Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-67512038392405945842015-02-21T11:14:00.001-05:002015-02-22T17:49:03.091-05:00Scenes from Our WeekendNirvana comes on over the car radio as Eric and I drive to dinner early Friday evening. <div><br></div><div>"I don't know how seventeen-year-old me would feel about this," Eric remarks. "Listening to Nirvana while I drive a Subaru through the suburbs on Friday night, on a date with my <i>wife</i>. I think seventeen-year-old me would be unimpressed." </div><div><br></div><div>By 10 pm we're both lying in bed. I'm watching Scandal on my phone, and Eric is playing Game of War on his. </div><div><br></div><div>......…......................................................</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Listening to Madeline help Eric with some home improvement projects: </span></div><div><br></div><div>"Be careful where you swing that hammer, Madeline." </div><div><br></div><div>And then,</div><div><br></div><div>"No. Stop. That's very dangerous." </div><div><br></div><div>................................................................</div><div><br></div><div>Madeline throws a ball across the room for Vivi.</div><div><br></div><div>"Fetch!" She commands.</div><div><br></div><div>"Madeline, she's not a dog. She doesn't fetch," Eric tells her. </div><div><br></div><div>Maddie watches Vivi chase the ball. "But look, she <i>is</i> fetching." </div><div><br></div><div>"Madeline, stop trying to make fetch happen. It isn't going to happen." </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-73625993053078476982015-02-19T11:42:00.001-05:002015-02-19T11:42:38.785-05:00Felt Paper Dolls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I made the girls this set of felt paper dolls. Madeline loves dressing and undressing her dolls, so these are perfect for her. </div>
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I drew out my own patterns, traced them on to felt, embroidered their faces, and used my sewing machine to piece them together. The dresses are made out of various scrap fabrics I had in the house, backed with felt and a circle of Velcro to help keep them in place. The girls can pick the dolls up to play with them without their clothes falling off. </div>
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There's a Madeline doll: </div>
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Complete with Olaf Bear. Obviously. </div>
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Then I made her some friends:<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghoXrVibk4jm3HQY1B-uJy9b6HFHaSD7m5CbBMHeRq_jKFud_9ulPS8I1u5m1n9izsFoSJHKGZ_EiT23J1gSXHCarF4cyNOvsJ6Toe9DN68C7RBfJl2oTNuowxUlhbh0zCOAVof_r7wEw/s1600/IMG_4451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghoXrVibk4jm3HQY1B-uJy9b6HFHaSD7m5CbBMHeRq_jKFud_9ulPS8I1u5m1n9izsFoSJHKGZ_EiT23J1gSXHCarF4cyNOvsJ6Toe9DN68C7RBfJl2oTNuowxUlhbh0zCOAVof_r7wEw/s1600/IMG_4451.jpg" height="320" width="194" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQDsjFp6dS9eWrSm_T08lvDrmD3AFO-MVJSTNX5JJQ6vK4RZSVPNuoexQLZrefNth-McFkFpw9VT3fQvSzqRrts7wNYOeHczaXUIYLNIidKz2qaXXASYAluLV3VBFCsgxJNHZNpjVqAM/s1600/IMG_4461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQDsjFp6dS9eWrSm_T08lvDrmD3AFO-MVJSTNX5JJQ6vK4RZSVPNuoexQLZrefNth-McFkFpw9VT3fQvSzqRrts7wNYOeHczaXUIYLNIidKz2qaXXASYAluLV3VBFCsgxJNHZNpjVqAM/s1600/IMG_4461.jpg" height="320" width="225" /></a><br />
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And a whole mess of clothes: <br />
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Funny story about these dolls. They were a long time in the making. The summer I was pregnant with Vivienne (nearly two years ago), Madeline spotted some fabric paper dolls at a craft fair. I felt that I could easily make her some using materials we already had at home, so I busily got to work that very same afternoon. They came together over the next few days, and Madeline loved them, but I neglected to finish them. The dolls were mostly complete, but there were little things like a missing piece of Velcro and unlined dresses that I just never got around to. </div>
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This is why it's almost always a better idea to just buy something somebody else already made. Cause sure, I <i>could</i> make my own, but will I ever finish it? Iffy. </div>
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Madeline recently dug the dolls out from the bottom of her toy box and asked me to finish their dresses. I figured it was about time those poor dolls had some decent clothes, so last month I finally made it a priority to get them done. </div>
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Now that Vivi is older, she really likes playing with them too, so I've got a Vivi doll waiting to be finished. Hopefully it doesn't take me another year to get around to it. <br />
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-5030688324174479132015-02-18T11:55:00.000-05:002015-02-18T11:55:00.346-05:00We Got 99 Inches and a Bitch Ain't One There's been quite a bit of snow here in sunny Massachusetts over the past month. The city of Lowell, where we lived when Maddie was born, is currently the snowiest city in America at 111.3". That's a lot of snow, dammit. <br />
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In our neck of the woods, we've got 99.2", which is still a lot of snow, dammit. <br />
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A month ago we were starting to think we had missed having a terrible winter. We had a storm on Thanksgiving, but it was relatively warm throughout December and January. What fools we were! The end of January brought a blizzard, and it pretty much hasn't stopped snowing since. <br />
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The winter after Madeline was born was a snowy one too. If you've been reading the blog for a long time, you might remember <a href="http://www.ourlittlebabywl.blogspot.com/2011/02/snow-update-few-days-late.html">this</a> chart from 2011: <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHA1ox8nHJNz-ckgaFthAgfwl7D621ssqa6kxYlg6WGGg8T5fLhISeN6z0fwJzB3C7G0sxq-4mW-aQJN2AlAF1xz6Z_nwDSoSM4knWpwgTfY5zK5XaVaj22eH6KcGU1tRJcxeTjD9nR5Q/s1600/snow+chart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHA1ox8nHJNz-ckgaFthAgfwl7D621ssqa6kxYlg6WGGg8T5fLhISeN6z0fwJzB3C7G0sxq-4mW-aQJN2AlAF1xz6Z_nwDSoSM4knWpwgTfY5zK5XaVaj22eH6KcGU1tRJcxeTjD9nR5Q/s1600/snow+chart.jpg" height="294" width="320" /></a></div>
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So, since the winter of 2015 has turned out to be even worse than 2011, I thought I'd make a new chart: <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLwGF0UTFZz75JpJlkxZ7M8YBffeDdDBhLVh_8ioUGOYAmP0iv4IGFhgH-gyxr7MJdjRvrmQfs6bUuXc6pGiIdQAwEJbyaqGpRVVaHgDuEAP_3A7UM-DjBiKyGJC9W2Cstd3jNEdNN0fI/s1600/snow+chart+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLwGF0UTFZz75JpJlkxZ7M8YBffeDdDBhLVh_8ioUGOYAmP0iv4IGFhgH-gyxr7MJdjRvrmQfs6bUuXc6pGiIdQAwEJbyaqGpRVVaHgDuEAP_3A7UM-DjBiKyGJC9W2Cstd3jNEdNN0fI/s1600/snow+chart+copy.jpg" height="363" width="400" /></a></div>
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We have enough snow on the ground to equal 3.5 Viviennes and 2.4 Madelines. In case you're interested, that's also 1.5 Mummas and 1.3 Dadas. </div>
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This is why we're trapped indoors. If I sent the girls out to play, we wouldn't see them again till April. We maybe wouldn't find Vivi till May or June... </div>
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Time to play another board game and watch another DVD. Hopefully something other than Frozen...</div>
<br />Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-30914495007628177802015-02-17T19:48:00.001-05:002015-02-17T19:48:24.644-05:00Vivi Eats: Life with Food Allergies 2When it rains, it pours. Or in our case, when it snows, it blizzards. It's been a hell of a week with even higher snow banks, sub-zero temperatures, a stomach bug, and a frozen dishwasher. Thankfully, Eric is on winter break this week just in time to save me from running through the streets stark raving mad. Mad, I tell you. Maaad. <br />
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But crazy Mumma or no, baby's gotta eat! Just like last week, I'm sharing what we feed Vivi on a typical day. I plan on doing this once a week for a month to provide an overview of what it's like feeding a toddler with food allergies. </div>
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Again, Vivi is allergic to eggs, dairy, and peanuts. Also, in the effort of keeping things real, I'm purposely not gussying up her meals. If you want pictures of gourmet, perfectly-plated baby food, then I suggest browsing Pinterest. The place is dirty with them. There's a shocking lack of protein in Vivi's diet again this week, so feel free to silently judge me from behind the glow of your electronic devices. I'm working on it, I swear. </div>
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<b><u>Pre-Breakfast</u></b>:</div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Dry Cheerios</span></div>
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Juice/ Water </div>
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<b><u>Breakfast</u>:</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgirk0WmGg2JE5AyMQWCp8CNu3aS0EOVTv6KUTnm9U66PJDyvUJft1CccFlt5E7oAPUp_be92i3DkzNG0QGqSo0k-zTyd5yLN6pveRSSt4GR6mNx1sZGi3VBHMdrZmSIvH8AMjClQlMI/s640/blogger-image-713434129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgirk0WmGg2JE5AyMQWCp8CNu3aS0EOVTv6KUTnm9U66PJDyvUJft1CccFlt5E7oAPUp_be92i3DkzNG0QGqSo0k-zTyd5yLN6pveRSSt4GR6mNx1sZGi3VBHMdrZmSIvH8AMjClQlMI/s200/blogger-image-713434129.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Blueberry pancakes</div>
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Sliced banana</div>
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Almond milk (Almond Breeze) </div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><i>I use Bisquick (which is vegan) to make pancakes for the girls. Instead of cow's milk, I substitute almond milk, and I use two mashed bananas in place of the eggs. They turn out slightly more banana-y in taste and are much thicker than the original recipe. The girls don't mind. Maddie, a pancake connoisseur, doesn't even notice. We're usually left with enough pancakes for two days of leftovers, which makes breakfast easy a few times a week. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><u><b>Nap</b></u>: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> 8 oz Nutramigen formula </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><b><u>Lunch</u></b>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Avocado</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">SunButter and jelly roll-up (using Joseph's Lavish Bread) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Coconut yogurt (So Delicious) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Almond milk</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I forgot to take a picture, but I think we all know what an avocado looks like, right? Although I once bought what I thought was a mango only to find out it was a giant avocado, so be careful in that produce aisle, folks. Things can get weird. Luckily, Vivi LOVES avocado, so giant ones wouldn't go to waste in our house. </i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><u>Snack</u></b>:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frozen Blueberries</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Crackers (Westminster Bakers Co. Multigrain Snack Crackers) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Juice/ Water</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><u>Dinner</u></b>:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frozen peas</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Bagel pizza (with vegan Daiya "cheese" on a Thomas' plain bagel) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Clementines for dessert</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Almond milk </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>We were supposed to eat Shepherd's Pie for dinner, in which case I would have set aside some beef, corn, and potatoes for Vivi before adding any dairy products for the rest of us. But, as I mentioned above, we're living in a frozen hell scape, and our dishwasher froze. I was worried about bursting pipes and floods and dirty dishes I would have to wash by hand, so dinner was kept fast and easy instead. </i></span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My mom sent me a link to an article from <a href="http://babyccinokids.com/blog/2015/02/10/tuesday-tips-simple-food-tricks/">Babyccino Kids</a> last week with tips on getting kids to eat. One suggestion was to serve kids frozen peas instead of cooking them. I dished some up for Vivi as a snack that afternoon and watched her scarf them down like I go at a bag of potato chips. Then Madeline dove in, and before I knew what was happening, they had eaten two bowls full. </span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Frozen peas are the answer, friends. First they soothe your swollen, postpartum lady bits, then they nourish your children. </i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><u>Bedtime</u></b>: </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8 oz Nutramigen formula </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And that's that! Have any suggestions? I'd love to hear from you! </span></div>
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Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06217955833030474032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3230998346917538518.post-6793230246579457382015-02-10T14:36:00.003-05:002015-02-10T14:36:40.700-05:00Vivi Eats: Life with Food Allergies<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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At a year old, Vivi is beginning to eat more like a real human being and less like a kooky celebrity on a faux-milk cleanse. </div>
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She's taking a bottle much less frequently. (Twice a day.) The purees have been replaced with solids. She can even feed herself. Only about half of the food on her tray makes it to her mouth, and half of that gets spit back out. Still, I call that good odds. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4x1nN6IvNbCft6ObmBCDkLW60qegdGdp2gzaYkdxGc4r-QFiI0brX2-coIVJuyHd2apaY64VMG1fS3CldcjXmC1tO4xfmnneHLxwAEGT_jqMqdC047_f7VX_ToYyFd3yNnKrVJoSbiw/s640/blogger-image--8879588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4x1nN6IvNbCft6ObmBCDkLW60qegdGdp2gzaYkdxGc4r-QFiI0brX2-coIVJuyHd2apaY64VMG1fS3CldcjXmC1tO4xfmnneHLxwAEGT_jqMqdC047_f7VX_ToYyFd3yNnKrVJoSbiw/s320/blogger-image--8879588.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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But since Vivi is allergic to peanuts, eggs, and dairy, we're still figuring out <i>what</i> to feed her. As a typical toddler, she also has <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">strong opinions about what she will and won't eat. She loves fruit and carbs, but not much else. </span><br />
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I will say that avoiding her allergens has been easier than I anticipated. It's surprising how many common foods contain these ingredients (especially eggs and dairy), but it's been just as surprising to discover how many other options we have. <br />
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Below, I'm sharing what a typical day's worth of meals looks like for Vivienne. </div>
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Note: I did not go out of my way to feed her anything special or out of the ordinary to make it look like we're culinary wizards. Nor did I style the food to make it look pretty. Some of it looks kinda gross, actually, for which I apologize. The meals I'm showing aren't perfectly nutritionally balanced either. I struggle to get protein in this girl for example. Tomorrow she may have more vegetables or grains or meat, and I like to think that her needs are met over the course of a week. This is just a sample of one single day, and I wanted it to be a realistic depiction of what she eats. </div>
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<b><u>Pre-Breakfast</u></b>:</div>
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Apple Juice/ Water mix</div>
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<i>The girls wake up slowly as Maddie watches cartoons. They snack on Cheerios every morning until we sit down for a real breakfast around 8 am. </i></div>
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<b><u>Breakfast:</u></b></div>
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Whole wheat toast with blueberry preserves.<br />
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<i>I use <a href="http://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/100-whole-wheat-bread-for-the-bread-machine-recipe">this recipe from King Arthur Flour</a> in my bread machine. It's dairy free. The loaf lasts about three hours before my family eats it up. Most of the bread I find in the grocery store has milk and/or eggs in it. I find it easier just to make our own. Although Thomas' Plain Mini Bagels <a href="http://www.petakids.com/food/accidentally-vegan-shopping-list/">are vegan</a>, and Vivi loves them. </i></div>
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<b><u>Pre-Nap</u></b>:</div>
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8 oz bottle of Nutramigen formula</div>
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<b><u>Lunch</u></b>:<br />
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Sliced banana topped with SunButter </div>
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Raisins</div>
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Blueberries </div>
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Almond Milk (Which she didn't drink.)<br />
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<i>SunButter is amazing stuff. It looks and tastes a lot like peanut butter, but it's made from sunflower seeds. </i></div>
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<b><u>Snack</u></b>:</div>
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Whole Grain Wheat Thins (vegan) </div>
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Almond Milk (Which she barely drank.) </div>
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<u><b>Dinner</b></u>:</div>
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Pasta with tomato sauce</div>
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Peas (which she didn't eat)</div>
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Almond Milk (which she didn't drink)</div>
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<i>I've found that most brands of pasta are egg free but will include warnings that they share equpiment that processes eggs. (Those darn egg noodles.) I buy Market Basket brand pasta. There is no warning stating that they share equipment, but manufactors are not required to include that information on their labels at this time, so I'm not 100% sure that they don't. We've had success with this brand, but if you're dealing with severe, life-threatening allergies, obviously don't take my word for it. Just sayin'. Same goes for the tomato sauce. Even traditional, plain tomato sauce often contains milk. Market Basket's does not, but I always read the labels. Always. </i></div>
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<u><b>Bedtime</b></u>:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
8 oz bottle of Nutramigen formula</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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