santa's library

So, S got quite the haul of new books for Christmas, and we are all loving them (see if you can spot M's favorite title...thank you, MoWasks. you made his Christmas.) Here's a list.

• The Complete Adventures of Curious George
• Llama Llama, Red Pajama
• Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
• Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs
• Harold and the Purple Crayon
• Fancy Nancy and the Boy from Paris
• Fancy Nancy at the Museum
• Goodnight Moon
  
• The Umbrella
• There's a Map on My Lap!
  
• The Chimpanzees of Happytown
• Angelina Ballerina
• The Snowy Day

There are a few things under the tree that she hasn't opened yet as we are waiting for the Feather Nester fam to get home from Texas.

We are really enjoying the new books, and we're glad to have them as we'll be repacking the Christmas books soon. We are seriously afraid that S is going to have a meltdown when all the Christmas stuff goes away, which will likely happen on Friday. She still likes to say hello to the nutcrackers every single day...usually every single hour.

As for me and M, we also scored a few new titles. This I Believe II, The Tales of Beetle the Bard, and Last Child in the Woods. Technically, I also acquired a copy of 60 Hikes within 60 Miles of Nashville, but I'm "sharing" it with my brother, and he is currently in possession of said book. As possession is nine-tenths and all, I'm not holding my breath.

Happy Sunday, peeps. We're skipping church this morning and just chilling out having tea parties in the living room floor and playing with S's babies.

our day...in words and pictures

I know, I know. I've been MIA. I've been uber-busy gearing up for the holiday. I'll catch you all up later, but here's the rundown.

5AM, M and I can't sleep. He finishes watching A Christmas Carol while I make monkey bread muffins and coffee...and all the makings of the cornbread dressing.

630AM, Otis begs for molasses butter that I prepared for the turkey.

7AM, we anxiously wait for S to wake up as we sit on the kitchen counter and sip our coffee.

730AM, S wakes up. Aunt Mel, Uncle Bret, and Granddaddy show up. We bring the little one downstairs as she asks for a piece of chocolate.

731AM, S starts running in place ala Chris Farley in Tommy Boy when she sees the easel that Santa left her. She immediately grabs the coloring pencils and starts naming colors and drawing.

735AM, we start begging her to open a gift. She obliges us by opening her Fancy Nancy doll. That was a mistake. We should've saved it for last.

736AM, Fancy Nancy achieves an X rating as S strips her of her clothes.

737AM+, S humors us every few minutes by opening a gift. She really likes the stockings as they are full of stickers and suckers and My Little Ponies. (Stockings...yep, it's plural. One from Santa, one from Aunt Mel, and I think another on the way.) I'll give a complete list of her new library (because she got awesome books) tomorrow.

9AM, turkey goes in the oven. I work on assembling the aforementioned dressing ingredients.

10AM, the Ouisers head out for the Christmas morning walk. We say hello to the Spencers. We head to Aunt Mel's and eat sausage casserole and eggs.

1130AM, we head home and realize that my dad and fam are already here. Oops. I have not showered. Luckily, M and S are presentable. I am forgiven because my house smells like deliciousness.

1215PM, more gifts. S loves, and I mean loves, her new Cabbage Patch doll Fannie.

1PM, S goes upstairs for nappers.

130PM, lunch is served. Turkey with molasses butter, cornbread dressing, cranberries, sweet peas, mashed potatoes, and yeast rolls. Followed by mounds cake, caramel pecan pie, and orange date cake. I am likely to need new pants tomorrow.

4PM, S finally falls asleep.

430PM, I finally get to shower.

5PM, S wakes up screaming. I rock her for 15 minutes, which leads to my current state of being snot and drool covered. So much for showers and clean clothes.

530PM, S realizes that the Advent Calendar is gone, and she loses it. M holds her for ten minutes trying to calm her down. She only calms herself when we turn on Sleeping Beauty. She and M are on the couch now with apple juice and grapes.

6PM, you're looking at it. I'm thinking about hitting the leftover pie.
And here was her favorite activity last night at Aunt Mel's.

grounded in a time out with a spanking

Help me. Somebody, please. Maybe I should be calling Nanny 911 per Feathernester's suggestion.

My child is immune to discipline. Granted, I understand that she's still only a one-year-old, but I have no idea what to do. She doesn't care a thing about time out. She thinks it's a game. Remove her from what she was doing, and she just immediately shifts gears and decides to do something else. Take away a toy, and she picks out another one to play with. Give her a stern talking to, and she does a mental eye roll and grins at you. Yell at her, and she ignores you. I even tried spanking her once (very calmly, I might add), and she literally looked at me like I had lost my marbles. I have no idea what to do. She does respond somewhat to M's voice, mostly because it is crazy deep when he gets mad, and it carries. I can imagine it's what it would be like to hear Zeus's voice thundering down from Olympus. I'd stop what I was doing, too. Of course, it only succeeds in getting her attention. She then goes back to whatever she was doing.

I am at a total loss.

I've, for the most part, been able to stop her from hitting and biting and pushing. I cannot, however, make her stop climbing on the furniture like a monkey. Feathernester and I thought that perhaps I should ignore it (as long as there was no real danger...like falling on a set of kitchen knives or something). Let her fall. Then maybe she'd learn. M has wholeheartedly disagreed with that approach, however. That makes it a little tough for me as she totally ignores all of my attempts at disciplining her.

Any advice?

I know that I've always heard to remove the object that causes the problem. That's easy when the problem is her practicing her forehand on Otis. It's just taking away a tennis racket. It's not so easy when we're talking about removing the furniture from our home. Oy.

I need a drink. Is it too early in the day for that?

bite me

Okay. It's official. I have moved back to the place where I was once a fifteen-year-old girl, and I have become a fifteen-year-old girl once again. My newest obsession is Twilight. That's right. Every other teenage girl and I in the country are in L-O-V-E with Edward Cullen/Cedric Diggory.

Normally, I don't dig vampire stuff, despite the urgings of dear Kristie who loves vampire movies. I usually think they are annoying and stupid, and I generally lack the ability to suspend disbelief enough to enjoy them. However, late Saturday night, I was unable to sleep (which has been an issue for a couple of weeks now), and I was kind of over reading my new book for the night, so I picked up Twilight, which I had borrowed from my cousins just in case I felt like a dose of fiction. I did not put it down until I was completely finished. I didn't even get up to pee, which resulted in a very long trip to the potty when I was done reading after six-and-a-half hours.

The book was intoxicating. I couldn't stop reading. It sucked me in, and I loved every second of it. Look, I know it's not great literature or anything, but it was highly entertaining. So much so that I required my husband take me to the movie yesterday afternoon after we visited with his dad. Like all books turned into movies, the book was significantly better, but I can see that the movie would be perfectly fine without the book. I recommend the book, though. I recommend it a lot. But only if you're a girl. I don't think it would have the same appeal to guys. You know, if you weren't able to sit there reading, imagining Robert Pattinson smolderingly staring holes through you. Like I said, L-O-V-E.

So, I am anxiously awaiting the second book from Hillary and Abbe, though I've promised my husband I won't start reading it until the weekend. I am certain that my parenting skills would suffer if I chose to continue staying up all night reading vampire chick-lit. So, I'll wait...

Hope everyone else had a great weekend. Especially those of you who were able to attend the FIRMYs.

BREAKING NEWS

Okay, since the writing of this morning's post, we've hit a major milestone in S's life. Major. Bigger than her using the potty last week. Bigger than her apparent love of all things Christmas that aren't Santa Claus. Bigger than her starting to actually pretend things.

She has gotten a joke. Sort of. It wasn't really a joke. It was just something I said.

History. Most of the time, when I drop something or run into something, instead of the typical, "sh!t," or some other non-PG phrase, I say, "Ruh roh, Raggy." You know, like Scooby Doo says to Shaggy? Do you get it? Is it obscure? Anyway, S and I were having a little tea party upstairs before her nap, and when I accidentally dropped my cupcake, I said, "Ruh roh, Raggy." S cracked up. Full on giggling. The type of giggling that normally only ensues during tickle fights. This is the first time she's ever laughed at something verbal that wasn't a goofy noise. She kept dropping the cupcake over and over and then saying it herself.

"Ruh roh, Raggy."

"Ruh roh, Raggy."

"Ruh roh, Raggy."

It was priceless. Absolutely hysterical. Then she got that the joke could be carried into other activities. She accidentally on-purpose kept falling off her bouncy horse, and saying, "Ruh roh, Raggy."

It's a good day around here.

no dice.

We took S to see Santa Claus (or in S language, "Sankulk Clawwws") last night. Of course, we got there during Kris Kringle's dinner break, so my family took S to the Disney Store for the first time. It was sensory overload for a few minutes as she refused to venture beyond the first ten feet of the store, which was the princess section. Go figure. (Had I mentioned that the princess obsession has sort of already hit our house? Princesses are super fancy posh, and therefore, they are revered.) She didn't break anything or cry, so it was a success.

The visit with Santa Claus, however, was not a success. S refused to sit in his lap. Refused. When I tried to let go of her, she pulled her, "I will crush your internal organs with my thighs if you even think of letting me go" move. She didn't cry or scream or get really panicky, she just wouldn't let go of me. So, no Santa picture this year. She was super cute all decked out, though. Plus, she was really into the set up around Santa. Lots of big trees and lights and things. And let's not forget the unparalleled commercialism of Christmas. She pretty much loved everything about that. It was the first time I've let her walk in a mall, and she dug it the most.

So, since there is no Santa photo, here's a copy of a wide-eyed S spotting the Disney Store windows. Happy Thursday, peeps.

finger painters for hire

S and I finger painted this afternoon before nap time. Originally, I just sat down with her and painted a bit, then I remembered, "hey! I have a blank canvas in my bedroom, and I bought paint last week to paint a picture for S's bathroom. HELLO." The squishiness of the acrylic paint all over my fingers was great. Ridiculously cathartic. I highly recommend it. Besides, what else are you going to do with a forty dollar canvas?? Use a brush??

Either way, here are the results. Please note that my child seems to think that finger paint is for painting her fingers. She painted more on herself than on the paper. I did not get a picture of the resulting green bath water. I will say that at some point, the octopus picture will say, "I'd like to be under the sea." Get it? In an octopus's garden. I am so clever that sometimes it hurts.

turkey week in pictures

I thought that another photo post would make catching up on the last week pretty quick. No. It took 20 minutes just to go through the pictures. Oh, well. Here you go...the Ouisers' Thanksgiving week.

S refused to take this bathing suit cover off for days. She thinks it goes with everything.
This time, it was Grandpa who got fancy-posh'd.
Photography by S. Little thief snaked the camera from the counter.
One of our thankful lists on the sidewalk.
Doing the Turkey Dance Thursday morning.
Stretching out her tummy via...bean juice??
Working off the turkey by fishing for leaves.
Don't ask me what happened here.
Decorating T and Grandma's tree.
Bah humbug.
Our tree and our girl.

And a couple of videos for Scarlet Lily...

Daddy, you're welcome for this one...

a sweet weekend

It's just around the corner. It's so close you can almost taste it. You think I'm talking about Thanksgiving, which I am seriously anxious for, but I'm actually talking about the holiday baking season. It's like March Madness in the kitchen. I've been patiently waiting, but all the holiday displays and sewing I've been doing around here have me jonesing for some goodies. However, I'm not ready to bust out all the ingredients and start making the season's first batch of cookies (which is always peanut butter kiss cookies). So, to tide me over until next weekend, or at least until tomorrow, I've made a little concoction with the things I had in the cabinets. I melted a bag of semisweet chocolate chips and stirred in a 1/2 cup of dried cranberries, a 1/2 cup of pecan pieces, and about 1/2 tsp of orange zest. I'll let you know if it turns out...I can't think of a single reason why it wouldn't. And, frankly, it's pretty healthy. For candy.

On the creation front, I have successfully made the first Ouiser snuggie. It is made from tie-dyed fleece and therefore looks like an insane hippie monk should be eating pot brownies on your couch. I can safely say that I believe I have made vast improvements on the Snuggie, and I declare all Snuggies bought from TV inferior to the Ouiser snuggie. Mine has the foot pocket that I promised, so your feet stay safely tucked under the blanket, and mine has a kangaroo pocket. It is perfection. Made out of fleece. I'll be making a High School Musical version and a gray fleece version this weekend. My family is going to love me this Christmas. They just might not appreciate the genius right away. I've managed to whip out a couple more little odds and ends in the past few days, and I'll share pictures later. For now, I'm going to clean all the thread off the desk and off the floor.

Have a great weekend.

OMG

OMG. OMG. OMG. There is no better way to put it. No better way. I must have some of these.

Those of you who know me well know that almost everything I own has 3/4 sleeves. Even most of my sweaters. I don't know why. I don't know if I'm really that fond of my tiny wrists that I like to see them all the friggin' time. Or maybe it's just that I'm short and most full length sleeves end up being pulled up lest I drag them through food. Either way, the bottoms of my arms are always, always cold, and thus, I must have arm warmers. I also must, must know who the brilliant person is who thought to put leg warmers on their arms because I want to hug them and bake them cookies and say, "thank you. I love you. I really, really do."

a little southern

I spent a lot of time in high school at speech tournaments and doing drama stuff. In doing that, I worked diligently on losing "my southern." It started when I realized that most of the people I knew recognized no difference in the words "pin" and "pen." Then I realized that most of the world equated people with deep southern accents as either dimwitted or drunk on mint juleps and bourbon. Because I wanted to do well in the tournaments, show a grasp of basic principles of pronunciation, and be viewed by others as seemingly intelligent, the southern accent was relegated to the back of my brain. It was banished...only to be encountered when I was, in fact, dimwittedly drunk on bourbon or in the presence of my family.

I spent a lot of years proud of the fact that people would tell me they barely heard my southern accent. Then Feathernester basically ruined my life.

The other night, she was recounting how much she loves to tell the story of my aunt calling me out when using my "not southern" voice when we first moved. Apparently, when talking to Feathernester and Mr. Feathernester, I would turn on the anti-southern accent so as to ease them into southern life. My aunt looked at me and asked, "why are you talking like that?" I don't remember this at all, but it stuck with Feathernester and she thought it hysterical. She then told me that, whereas she used to not detect my southern, now it's "all southern, all the time." Like I'm one of those easy listening radio stations. "All Phil Collins, all the time." Darn.

Really, I don't care too much. I still properly pronounce words like "pen" and "library."

However, I have realized that my daughter has really started elongating her words. Especially her vowels. "Babydoll" is "babydaaawwwl." "Light" is "liiiiight." Her friend Carson is "Carseeeen." I could go on and on. I worry that people will think my daughter has been hitting the bourbon hard at an early age. Someone, help us, please.

Happy hump day, peeps. Or "peeeeeeeps," as S would say.

weekend update

Another Ouiser weekend in pictures. I will say that, sadly, we forgot the camera for Saturday morning's trip to the Monkey's Treehouse, which S friggin' loved. It will end up being one of our haunts.

Make-shift doll furniture for Little People #2 girl. Complete living room with sofa, end tables, lamps, and chair. There was also a bedroom and a driveway leading to the front of the "house." MoWask, those doll furniture links may come in handy much sooner than I'd anticipated.
A bed for Bea. S calls her bear "B." At least, that's what I thought. Now I've decided she's named her Bea after my grandma. Most of the time, the animal or doll that's in the bed is tucked in. And they always get a goodnight kiss.
Daddy got fancy-poshed, which is like getting punk'd but without the meanness and with super fancy posh accessories.
Ready for church. Add a peacoat and my sunglasses to this look and you can imagine what we looked like walking down the street. Very fancy posh.
I don't know if any of you other marrieds have this problem, but somehow, M and I always manage to dress alike. Always. We are the incestuous Bobsy twins. Nice.
Birthday gift for Aunt Mel. She loved my choice of wrapping paper. I swear.
Decorations for Aunt Mel's birthday. S and I made them. Please don't judge my mess of a house.

a toddler drum circle

A little peak into what life is like with S and L. Loud. Of course, it's pretty easy to see why my kid is ginormous. She's eating her drumstick. Really, I like to think that she's play-multitasking. Drumming and play cooking at the same time. That's my girl.

dots

My friend Kristie calls her little musings "dots," so today is all about the dots.

Dot.

Green showers. I thought a lot about the shower issue based on Scarlet Lily's post yesterday. I know I've mentioned before that, like her, my showers are not game for greening. I will not speed shower, navy shower, or take a cold shower for the earth. I just won't. And, sadly, I will admit that I am not a person, like Feathernester, who takes quick showers. I linger. I always have. Most of the time, I linger until the water needs to be turned a little warmer. That's my cue to get out of dodge. Sometimes, however, I linger until every last drop of warmth is exhausted from my water heater. I admit it. Judge me if you will. Now, this isn't an every day occurrence, so don't flip your lid completely.

Out of curiosity today, I timed my shower. I've done this before, and I've never been thrilled with the results. Today was a no frills day. No shaving, no special exfoliating, no lingering. Just the basics: wash face, wash and condition hair, wash body. I timed in at six minutes almost on the nose. I didn't rush, but I didn't dawdle. But, seriously. Every couple of days I do shave. There's at least three to four minutes. Plus, I like at least 45 seconds to appreciate the warm water when I first get into the shower. I have a hunch that this shower thing is going to eat at me forever. I will say this. Jennifer Aniston claims to take three minute showers. Three. And she claims that she also brushes her teeth in the three minute shower. I really, truly believe that she has to be lying. Or, she is the dirtiest human being that ever walked the earth. You decide.

Dot.

Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat. We're gearing up for the holidays around here. You already know that. You also know that I am crazy type-A, and most of my gift shopping is done. Finished. And now, every gift that we've purchased is wrapped and neatly stacked. I worked on it yesterday. I felt an odd sense of completion. It's the same way I feel when I organize a drawer or clean out the fridge. I feel at peace when things are all organized and done. Aaagh. A big, cleansing breath.

However, I've been thinking a lot about gifts this year. I know that lots of people think about these things, but it's so easy to get caught up in the insanity. I love to buy presents for people. I love knowing that someone will love or appreciate something that I've given them. I love it when I stumble across some random object that immediately reminds me of someone that I love. What I don't love is the sense of obligation to find gifts for people. Especially when so many of us don't need anything. Especially when so many of us should be getting rid of stuff instead of accumulating more. I think, that when you can't find a perfect gift for someone for the holidays, you should be able to say, "I just couldn't find the right gift this year. Maybe next time." Or you should at least get a waiver. You should be able to give a middle-of-the-year gift instead of a Christmas gift because, honestly, who knows when you'll come across that perfect gift. I sound like a total Scrooge, and I swear I'm not. I just hate that people, including me, get caught up in the craziness that is feeling like you have to, have to get gifts for every single person that you know. It's just nutty. Again, judge me if you will. Maybe I am Scrooge McOuiser.

Dot.

The Snuggie. Oh, how I love you, Snuggie. Why couldn't Neiman Marcus have invented you instead of some "As Seen on TV" hack? I know that a blanket with sleeves seems like the epitome of laziness. I get it. I get that it seems quentisentially lazy American that we can't be bothered to take our arms from under our blankets to use our remotes or send text messages or whatever, but come on. When I'm vegging out on the couch catching up on Law and Order reruns, I am trying to be as lazy as I can. I deserve a blanket with sleeves. I've usually earned it by washing my way through obscene amounts of laundry. Now, I'll give you that if you are wearing it around all day, you are too lazy. But for the couch, this thing is genius. I'm going to start making them. I'm going to improve on them, though. I'm going to put a little pouch at the bottom to tuck your feet into. Watch out, friends. The Ouiser Snuggie may be coming your way. You should be so lucky.

End of today's dots. Have a good one, peeps.

one up-ed

MoWask totally one up-ed me. I listed a couple of the random things that S is grateful for (though she doesn't understand the concept of being grateful), and she went off and listed 106 things that she loves. I can't compete with that. Looks like being in California for a week is kind to her. While I'm happy about that, I am having trouble figuring out new things for S today. You see, it's raining, so we haven't been outside, and that's where S is the happiest. That's where she finds things. So, I'm winging it today. We finger painted for the first time yesterday, and I assure you she was grateful for squishy orange paint. She's also thankful for rocks. I let her bring in four rocks that she collected yesterday, and she keeps finding them and declaring, "Mommy, found rock. Ooooh." So, finger paint and rocks. Beat that, MoWask. :)

Also, we went to the gym today for the first time in forever. Getting a president elected is hard work that excuses one from one's dedication to treadmills and big empty rooms where you can do yoga alone. Now, however, I'm back at it because I can tell how much weaker I've gotten and I don't like it. Anywho...

While there, I grabbed a magazine for perusing while on the elliptical machine. I haven't subscribed to Real Simple in years because I felt like the articles kept repeating themselves, and I honestly don't need any advice on how to organize my closets (all shirts in order of the color spectrum), my junk drawers (don't believe in the concept; if it's junk, I don't want it), or beneath my sink (how much crap do you need under there really). But, there were a couple of articles in this one that I had a chance to read and really enjoyed. One was a guide to recycling, which I thought was greatly helpful in that it explained to me why I can't recycle certain things that I've been dropping off for ages. Oops. The other article was on focusing. I find it hysterical that I need to be doing several things right now, but I'm not. I'm blogging. It's a distraction. Looks like I should focus.

Anyway, enjoy your Wednesday. I'm going to clean the bathroom. Focus, Ouiser, focus.

the ouiser tree

Per Feathernester's post, here's my tree.

Also, in preparing for Thanksgiving, I've written down the things S has seemed most thankful for the past two days. Of course, it's written in sidewalk chalk in front of our house next to a big turkey that we drew. According to our sidewalk, you should give thanks for leaves, sticks, chalk, cheerios, outside, music, and friends. I'll try to keep you posted on the things that she's grateful for as the season progresses. I am certain there will be a lot of repeats.

As for me, I'm grateful for warm slippers and gloves and for having Reading Rock books around the corner...and an owner who seems to know exactly what I want to buy. LOL.

perfection on consignment

Okay, seriously. No matter what great thing you think you may have found thrifting or on consignment, you can never, ever beat what I found last week. Behold perfection...


For anyone not in the know, M's life, prior to Geography, revolved solely around tennis. As he pretty consistently works on S's forehand, this shirt speaks volumes. Seriously, you could find a pencil sketch by Renoir, and M would argue that this shirt trumps it as most awesome find.

Also, a little more greatness. I had a chance to work at the Americana Folk Festival a couple of Saturdays ago. You know, spreading the Obama love by selling buttons and whatnot. I took along sidewalk chalk, and here is some of the artwork. The peace dog was drawn by a kid that couldn't have been more than seven. How wicked awesome is that? "Put aside your differences" was done by this girl and her bandmates.

another week in pictures

While life is a little less hectic thanks to the election of Barack Obama, things are still a little crazy around here. Mostly, I've got a couple of months of real housework to do. I'm trying to get it done in pieces, but my body has other plans. My body is telling me to go into recharge mode. We'll see who wins...

Either way, here are a few photos from last weekend. Please note the Crunch Bar in the second picture. It is the one and only piece of candy the kiddo got from trick-or-treating. She held onto it like it was made of solid gold.



Have a great weekend, peeps. I'm off to shower.

yes we did

That's all I have to say for now. It was a long day of poll watching and return watching, but everything was worth this feeling. It was all worth knowing that my daughter will grow up not thinking that there are boundaries to what she or others can achieve. It was worth it to feel proud and consequential.

Yes we can. Yes we did. Yes we will continue.

all dressed up

S had a Halloween party this morning. Really, it was just the make up class for the music class that was canceled a few weeks ago. All the kids dressed up, and that apparently makes kids crazy. Note to all parents and teachers...it's not the sugar in the candy that causes them to go nutso. It's the costumes. All the kids were running around like they were on speed. The teacher gave up about halfway through and just let them have treats. At that point, S was already passing out the stickers and spider rings we'd brought to share.

Anyway, here are a couple of shots. For the record, S did wear her costume, but when she started sweating, I took it off her. It was a smidgen warm in there this morning.


This is S with her friend S. She was a poodle...but she swore she was a lamb. Baa.


S thought this was the best thing ever. She really thought Elmo was there. She kept going up to the poor kid and touching him. It's how I'd react if I was in the room with George Clooney.

morning has broken

Remember that old Cat Stevens tune? Sure you do, and if you're like me, you love a little Cat Stevens every now and then. Peace train? Come on. Admit it. You love it.

Anyway, this morning broke me. As in, I nearly lost it.

S and I took a little jaunt into Nashville this morning. I needed some more dish detergent from Target, and we were hunting for a new POTTY CHAIR. S decided yesterday that she was interested in the potty. Really, I think she was just using it to stall at naptime and bedtime, but I don't know for sure. She also woke up this morning asking to watch her "big kids" video, which is about potty training, so I'm hoping that she's ready. I had been planning for awhile to replace the potty chair that we already had. It had multiple parts that she could take off and use as hats or costumery. (I know that's not a real word.) As that completely grossed me out, and her potty chair looked miserably uncomfortable, I thought another one might be better. Plus, I've read that if you let your child make the decision about their own potty chair, she might be more apt to use it.

Moving on...

First we went to Target. Their potty chair selection was seriously lacking, so we picked up our dish detergent and some Halloween stickers and headed to Toys R US. This is where the morning got out of hand. S wanted to walk. In and of itself, that isn't a huge deal. She's been into walking on her own lately, and I thought I could trap her inside in the little cart vestibule area and get her into a cart. No dice. She's smart enough to understand automatic doors. So, I grabbed a cart and hightailed it inside after her. Then, I realized that I felt woozy. Like, "I may actually fall down, and I feel seriously overheated, and, "S come here right now and put down that baton," and what is wrong with me?" After standing there for a minute, I realized that I had forgotten to eat or drink anything this morning and it was already 10am. That likely had something to do with it. I've never really thought about my blood sugar, but I'm pretty sure I was bottomed out. Halloween candy bags were right there at the door, so I grabbed one. I then ate a peanut butter cup and just stood still for a minute while S oohed and ahhed through the aisle. Okay, I felt well enough to proceed. I convinced S that it was a good idea to follow me so we could look at potty chairs, but she got sidetracked by this. Just shoot me. It took a good five minutes to get her to leave it alone. I finally made her understand that her options were to come with me or be forced into the cart. We made it to the potty chair aisle, which also happens to be the shampoo/bath crayons/lotion aisle. S was interested in two different chairs. One is the same as Kristie's daughter's, and I've read good things about it online. I was hoping for that one, but I was prepared to have to bring home the Elmo potty even though I'd sworn never to buy a potty that does tricks. While she kept looking at the Elmo potty and talking about it, she kept wanting to sit on the Baby Bjorn potty, so we bought that one.

We also had to pick up part of L's 1st birthday gift, and that little errand, which should have taken all of 47 seconds, took almost half an hour because S kept stopping to go all googly eyed over the toys.

She'd had all she could take by the time we got to the checkout lane, where you know they were as slow as molasses. We had to finish our little transaction through many tears and sobs. That was rather tricky as, unbeknownst to me, S had been filling our cart with all manner of crap while I wasn't looking, and I had to keep looking at what the girl was ringing up and saying, "I'm sorry, I didn't pick up that Thomas the Train soap or those nine packs of bathtub markers or that robot book."

My poor overstimulated child was in complete hysterics by the time I was able to wrangle her into the car. She calmed down when I got her some lunch.

Since we've been home, things have been a little calmer, but not much. I've got my fingers crossed that the remainder of my day goes more smoothly, otherwise, I may take to drinking.

Happy Thursday, peeps.

weekend in pictures

Another photo assault from the Ouiser family adventures. Ghouls at Grassmere (the zoo's halloween event). Family lunch for O's birthday, which included apple picking in the backyard and jumping on the trampoline. Afternoon excursions in the park. Please note my child's literal interpretation of what we should do with acorn "caps."











And, FYI, I'm letting Feathernester share pics of L dressed up for Ghouls. Which means, "woman, you'd better post."

how do i get myself into these messes?

I've been sitting at the desk for large stretches of time over the last two days. Sitting at the desk, making phone calls. Phone calls for "Dickson County Friends of Bob Tuke." Let me tell you, that's a mouthful to say on the phone.

"Hi, is this Mrs. Smith? Good morning. My name is Ouiser, and I'm calling with the Dickson County Friends of Bob Tuke. How are you today?"

I then get a chorus of, "you're calling with whom?"

Then I have to explain that he's the democratic candidate running against Lamar Alexander for U.S. Senate. Then I get to further explain that we're hosting a fundraiser next Saturday at the Dickson County Democratic Headquarters from 12-1:30. Do they think they might be available?

"Maybe."

Hallelujah.

"That's great. We will be serving lunch, and the candidate will be there to answer questions, and it should be a great time. It is a fundraiser, so it's a fifty dollar per person donation."

"Well, I can't afford that," or, "I just remembered I have to wash my hair."

It's hard to make phone calls to people during a nasty economic crisis in a small town where no one has a bunch of extra money lying around to donate to what is, honestly, a hopeless cause. Plus, "Dickson County Friends of Bob Tuke" is hard to say, and I'm getting really frustrated.

Besides, I need to devote more energy to the phone bank I'm pulling together for next Tuesday night. And I still have Halloween costumes to finish. If anyone has a time-turner laying around, I'd love to borrow it for a few days.

Hope everyone is having a great Saturday. I'm going to make some more phone calls.

i am super mom and you are, too

I declared myself Super Mom this afternoon. S and I attended the fall kick-off meeting for Relay for Life today at noon. We had picked up a happy meal for her on the way because chicken and fries is usually a surefire way to keep the kiddo still and quiet. Not today, though. Today she wanted to talk to people. And she wanted to eat the strawberry salad that came with my lunch. Fine. Not a problem really. The Super Mom thing came at the very end. S and I won a door prize...a very pretty little floral arrangement that I realized immediately that I didn't want to have to carry to the car with my huge bag and my 35 pound toddler in tow. Someone else won a bunch of purple balloons that S had been making eyes at the entire meeting. Turns out that someone was with a friend of mine, and she brought the balloons to S. I traded her for the floral arrangement because I knew she worked at a bank and lots of people would enjoy it there. Then I realized that I hadn't really traded up in terms of getting to the car. Luckily, S was an angel and walked while holding my hand the entire way through the hospital. She even avoided the catnip that is the elevator buttons. Then we hit the parking lot. The kid has a thing for walking on curbs. You know, one foot on the curb, one on the parking lot. I have a thing for not getting run over.

So, in the gale force wind, my child sat down on the curb and cried because I wouldn't let her play in the parking lot. Then she realized that there were five bright purple balloons swirling around my head and all troubles were forgotten. I somehow managed to get the kid, the bag, the balloons, and myself into the car and home. That's when I decided that I am Super Mom. In fact, all moms are Super Moms because we all have crazy days like this and no one is ever around to really appreciate the absurdity of our situations.

Happy Tuesday, super mom peeps. I'm off to make cookies.

Oh, but here are a couple of pics from this weekend.




And, that's right, Scarlet Lily and B, S is wearing a cardigan. A fancy posh cardigan to go with the fancy posh flower hair bow.