Five hundred twenty six thousand six hundred minutes

Elle's 0th birthday

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1st Birthday

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2nd Birthday

Note the recurring theme: Serious Focus On Cake. That's my girl.

And in some crazy time warp, Birthday #3 is right around the corner...

Departure from the lighthearted...

Last week, one of my residents had to say goodbye to his 4 month old baby, after the unfathomably horrific experience of finding him unresponsive in his crib during a nap. My heart has broken for this family a thousand times over, and every time I come to the edge of asking myself what I would do in that situation, my entire being backs away from the thought as if even coming close to it is more painful than I can bear. I don' t think you recover from that kind of loss. Ever.

But it does, even if heartwrenchingly so, remind me to hug a little longer, be a little more patient, cherish every i-love-you, stop looking toward the next big thing and just take a second to treasure the moment. Even if that moment holds the exasperation incumbent to a nap-protesting, public tantrum-throwing, make-me-late-for-work-every-morning almost 3 year old. How insignificant and trivial are the exasperations of my day, when so abruptly put into perspective.

I used to throw around the term I love you. But I'm not sure that I had ever loved anyone yet, because I was years away from having a child of my own, and until you’ve done that you’re just guessing about love, gesturing toward it, assuming that it’s the right name for a feeling you’ve had. And I'm convinced that you can't love something that much without accepting the risk of equally magnanimous hurt. So my heart hurts for this family, and all I can offer is my prayers and a vow not to take my little one(s) for granted...

There is a reason why I chose not to have flower girls/ring bearers in our wedding. We didn't have any close family or friend tots we felt obligated to involve, and even in my pre-Mommy state I was not crazy enough to rustle up a pair of 2-3 year olds whose unpredictable and often socially unacceptable behaviors I am now all too familiar with. My (Jay's) niece, on the other hand, is far more brave. Elle was asked to be the flower girl in her outdoor wedding, and I must admit her performance at the rehearsal struck fear in my heart. There was aimless wandering... ok, blatant recurrent distraction... as she attempted to walk down the aisle.

Oh look, a caterpillar! Oh look, grass! Oh look, the ring bearer mom's stash of gummy bears!

Painful. 10 minutes and several dismembered gummy bears later, she finally arrived at the altar, only to immediately fall and hit her head. Which of course led to ear-shattering screams, and insistence that FlowerGirlMommy come hold her for the duration of the event. Don't say my trepidation for the actual wedding wasn't justified.

But the kid knows when to turn it on. And perform she did. Wedding night transformed her into the most perfect little angel, who nailed her role as Flower Girl better than Daniel Craig pulled off James Bond (and clearly, that's saying something).

She authoritatively (ok, bossily) grabbed Turner the ring bearer by the hand and said "Come on Turner, let's go to our Mandy", practically drug him down the aisle, and stood there angelically during the whole ceremony.

I beamed. I teared up. I noshed on gummy bears.

Post wedding got just a touch more sketchy, as we had long surpassed bedtime. Elle's too.

Apparently overtired Elle copes by making the "impending defecation" face.

But we both managed to stave off the over-tired grumpiness for the first few minutes of the reception. This photo was taken moments before the Flower Girl decided to plunge head first into the fountain. And nanoseconds before she leaned into the candle and we came a little too close to finding out just how flammable tulle can be...

Unfortunately, angel wings apparently disintegrate at 9:30pm, taking the flower girl's behavior with them. So she and I darted back to the hotel where I mistakenly thought she might actually go to sleep. Several drinks of water, potty attempts, rearrangements of bedding, and q30 second implorings of "Mommy?", "Mom?", "Mama?"....."Lauren!!" later, she was still awake. Guess the day's excitement was just too much... that or the gummy bears.

Elle-isms

Capturing the hilariously entertaining things that erupt from my not-yet-3-year-old's mouth is nearly impossible with the rate at which they emerge. And doing so over a 3 month period just adds to the challenge. So here is a smattering of the more recent Elle-isms.

While trying to get Jack to catch a frisbee: "Jack, you're incorrigible"

At least she listens to me, even if she does project the quasi-discipline she hears onto the dog...

E: God lives in my heart.

Me: That's right, he does!

E: But not in my eyes, cause they blink.

Me: (Pause)

E: And not in my hair.

E: And not in my mouth. Because I probably might bite him.

How does one respond to that, anyway?

Upon coming downstairs in the morning-

E: Where are my shoes?

Me: Oh, we left them upstairs!

E: We forgot! We for-really-got!

Driving by a man in a Subway sandwich costume with just his legs sticking out of the bottom:

Me: Elle, do you see that dancing sandwich?

E: Yes, we can eat him! But we'll have to take the legs off first.

At Costco, wanting to play with the swingset on display way up on a super high platform

E: Can you get me up there to play?

Me: It's too high-- I'm not tall enough!

E: Maybe you could turn into a giraffe, then you'd be tall enough!

Out of the blue riding in the car-

E: Inside a volcano is magma.

Pretending to plant a garden in the yard

Me: That's a very nice garden Elle.

Elle: I am extremely very clever, Mom.

Indeed, Elle. Indeed.

Berry fun

I was determined to take Elle strawberry picking this year. It just seemed like such a quaint, picturesque thing to do, especially for my berry-adoring child who may actually have been cast as Strawberry Shortcake if latter weren't so... well... animated.

But with every attempted picking outing, something came up. It rained. I had to work late. It rained again. Etc. I became convinced of the anti-berry conspiracy when we finally made it to the farm only to find a sign that said "Closed for Irrigation". Seriously?! My suspicions for fraudulent activity were confirmed when we returned the following morning and the Strawberry Workers admitted that there was a family gathering the day before and there wasn't anyone available to staff the crop. I knew it! Irrigation Schmirrigation.

So at last we arrived armed with sunscreen and strict Mom instructions not to eat the berries before they were washed. The big white bucket was bestowed upon us.

And picking commenced. Elle laboriously scrutinized each berry, casting most aside with the disapproving announcement of "Too mushy" or "Too yellow, still needs to grow".

And although I fully expected her to nosh on the pesticide coated fruit the whole time, she never sampled the first one... although she did continuously call out her neighboring pickers for similar offenses. "Mommy, he's EATING one! He didn't wash it first!" Little tattletale.

Her high standards paid off, and I'm convinced we ended up with a bucket of the least mushy, most red and fully grown strawberries in the field.

It must have been that extra irrigation...

Easter was, admittedly, eons ago. Nonetheless, I can provide (horribly belated) photo documentation that we joyfully celebrated our Savior's resurrection, competitively hunted eggs, and frolicked in the holiday fun with good friends.

At first, she was definitely into quality over quantity, and by "quality", of course I mean only pink and purple eggs. I desperately tried to steer her to the golden eggs, which could be exchanged for a valuable gift, but she wasn't interested. Why settle for gold when there are pink ones out there? Who cares if the coveted pink eggs are filled with choking hazards trinkets and mostly melted candy?

Not pink? Not a keeper.

This is concentration. Or obstipation.

The best Easter friends pull your wagon.

And let you pull theirs.

They give the best hugs.

And make the silliest of faces.

And they empathize when your last cupcake is no more.

And they forgive you for taking a month and a half to write your Easter post.

Happy Easter.

Guest post

Mommy has emerged from her blogging hibernation, or so she says she will if I could ever possibly develop the skill of independent play. But that's another story/post. While she's trying to organize the photos and stories and hilariously entertaining commentary that has been my life for the past few months, I thought I'd catch you up with the two biggies. Now that I'm nearing 3 (August 6th people, mark your calendars), I've mastered typing and basic html. Wish Mom would teach me the strikethrough though. Anyway, back to the big news.

Number 1. Mommy is board certified! After relentless studying for approximately 1/6th of my life, she is officially a board certified radiologist. Yay Mommy! Definite cause for celebration...

Number 2.

Yep, Mommy and Daddy are brave enough to try for another kid as beautiful, charming, smart, clever, and generally awesome as me. I've decided I want a baby brother named Cinderella, although M & D don't seem crazy about that idea. I've got time to persuade. The new baby is scheduled to arrive via stork on January 8th, which is Daddy's birthday. I'm pretty excited. I've already claimed the task of burping the baby. Can I have another cupcake?