Testing, 1-2-3

Here's my first video upload...



December 2007 (17 mos.)


Funny story...My lovely expectant mother best friend is getting a cute baby belly, so we've tried to explain the toddler version of pregnancy to Livy. (i.e. Olivia, did you know there is a baby in Stef's belly?) So now Olivia, who loves babies and spends hours taking care of hers, pats and kisses Stef's belly. Tonight, my husband spent some time with our girl reading and playing with her after bath time, and he just told me that she started patting his belly and saying, "Awww, Baby," and lovingly and perhaps knowingly showered his tummy with kisses. I haven't laughed so hard in a month.

A little bathroom humor

I knew parenthood would bring some awkward situations, but sometimes they're pretty funny, too. For a while now, we've been commentating on "goings-on" in the restroom to sort of prepare Livy for potty-training sometime in the next year. Because of this, whenever she hears a toilet flush, she gets excited and yells, "Bye-Bye PooPoo!" I'm not sure what makes me blush more when we're in public - when she yells this after I flush or some poor stranger flushes. So cute, though.

How is that even possible?

So, the other morning I step on the scale because morning is supposed to be the best time for this kind of thing (before eating or drinking). I was less than happy with the number displayed, so I thought taking my shoes off would have to help, right? WRONG! 1/2 a pound more. Which leads to the title of this post. Hmph. Oh well, it did give me a good laugh.
(Note: This is not actually my photo, but we can pretend this is what my scale said. He, he.)

Whoops.

Figured out how to change the layout or background, whatever. Lost my friends. Will try to fix that soon. Still don't know how to do the whole video upload thing. One day I will be savvy with these things. But not today.

Dancing with her Daddy

While listening outside Livy's door after bedtime, I heard some sweet little happy sounds. I used my motherly detective skills and figured she might not still be in bed. Until now, when she gets out of bed, she tries to get to Mommy and Daddy or cries just inside her door. Tonight, she got out of bed to play. When I opened the door, I found her in her Cinderella ("Love") dress-up skirt twirling and singing. It was so cute. I wanted to tell her what a beautiful princess she is, but settled for putting her back to bed with a hug, kiss, and "I love you." Princess time can resume tomorrow, but tonight she needs her sleep. We're pretty used to all things princess around here. Livy even gets Daddy in on it.


Olivia talks Daddy into wearing Cinderella's glass slippers. They fit him like they did the ugly step-sisters.


The princess gives a dance lesson. The Gray Ghost watches from outside.


Not related, just cute. Posing for the camera is new for Olivia.

I'm So Bad!!

Really, only two posts for June? No new posts in over two weeks. Sheesh. I get a serious case of bloggers block. Writing, creative ideas, and sharing are not my forte. But I figured if I just start a post, something will be better than nothing. At least it will keep this habit of blogging once in a while going until I have something post-worthy. So, with that, here I go...

TADPOLE UPDATE
8 tadpoles minus 1 tadpole (tear, very small one) = 3 of the tiniest frogs I've ever seen and 3 tadpoles with big mouths and little frog legs

Livy is super excited about them and wants to see them daily. "Momma, tahpohs, lehs, frohs," she tells me. (For those who don't speak 1-yr-old, this means, "Hello Mother. Take a look at these fine little tadpole friends. They now have legs and are toward the end of the metamorphosis process.") The only problem is the smell. Oh, my. It's horrid. But I dream of being the mom that does neat nature projects, bakes with the kids, works on creative crafts and activities, and makes their childhood a fun and memorable time in their lives. All children deserve that, so I will live with the smell until they've grown enough to drop them off at the pond. (The frogs, I mean, not the kid.)