Emma just gave me this birthday poem. I haven't quite decoded it all, and I'm starting to worry a bit about her spelling, but still...it made me smile.
Mom,
Your so sweat [methinks she meant "sweet"]
Because you have so much needs!
Even though you have so much core,
You have a husben who is a little bit more.
Happy birthday Mom!
Hope you have a wonderful call!
Merre Christmas!
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
A Girl Can Dream
Here is a photo of one of the girls' many awesome Christmas gifts. They are pretty excited about it, but I don't think their excitement even comes close to matching mine. It came about 30 years later than I wanted, but I finally got my dream dollhouse. I may even let Emma and Sophie play with it once in awhile. Maybe.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
The Nutcracker, Dueling Diva Style
Emma and Sophie present their version of The Nutcracker. Well, Emma tries...but Sophie keeps going rogue. "I've been performing here for seven years." Indeed you have, Emma Bloom. Indeed you have.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Hank Kingsley and Message Decoding
My mother-in-law - a.k.a. "Grandma Kitty" - is in town from Florida, and the girls are deeply entrenched in their happy places for as long as she is here. Yesterday, the clan trekked downtown to the German Chriskindle Market while I stayed behind to work. Missing the kids seeing Santa = sad. This picture = happy.
Side Note: After some analysis, I think Santa is just pointing his index finger at the camera, which always makes me think of Hank saying "Hey, now" on The Larry Sanders Show...even though I don't think he necessarily points when he says it. (Btw, if that was what you were going for Santa, cease and desist immediately: You, my jolly friend, are no Hank Kingsley.) But when I first saw the picture, I thought he was flashing the peace sign or something. Frankly, the fingers still perplex me. I suspect he may be sending some type of secret message, and I will not rest until I successfully decode it.
Side Note: After some analysis, I think Santa is just pointing his index finger at the camera, which always makes me think of Hank saying "Hey, now" on The Larry Sanders Show...even though I don't think he necessarily points when he says it. (Btw, if that was what you were going for Santa, cease and desist immediately: You, my jolly friend, are no Hank Kingsley.) But when I first saw the picture, I thought he was flashing the peace sign or something. Frankly, the fingers still perplex me. I suspect he may be sending some type of secret message, and I will not rest until I successfully decode it.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Back Off With Your HIGH UP Niceness
Emma switched tables at school today, and she told me about her new seat-mates.
Em: "I like everyone except Lucy. She's too nice."
Me: "What do you mean by 'too nice'? I don't understand."
Em: "You know, like she's high nice."
Me: "I'm still not following you."
Em: "Like, she is never mean and she always uses her manners and she's just too nice."
Me: "Is she annoying you? Do you think she's being fake?"
Em: "No, that's not what I said. I said she's HIGH UP nice, like TOO nice. Like...she is so graceful and careful and she talks really sweet in this high voice and says things like, 'Oh, thank you Emma.' 'Did you have a nice Thanksgiving, Emma?' 'Do you want to be best friends forever, Emma?'"
Me: "I still don't get what you mean by 'high up nice.' Do you mean because her voice is high?"
Em: "NO! It's like a pyramid. You know, like there's Really Really Bad at the bottom? And then Really Bad above that, and then Bad, and then Nice, and then high up of Nice is Too Nice. Lucy is TOO Nice."
Me: "Um...okay. I'm sorry that her kindness is so upsetting to you. That must be really frustrating."
Em: "Yeah. Well, I don't act rudely to her or anything. I just smile and say, 'Thank you, Lucy.' But inside I know she is too nice for me and we will never be friends."
Em: "I like everyone except Lucy. She's too nice."
Me: "What do you mean by 'too nice'? I don't understand."
Em: "You know, like she's high nice."
Me: "I'm still not following you."
Em: "Like, she is never mean and she always uses her manners and she's just too nice."
Me: "Is she annoying you? Do you think she's being fake?"
Em: "No, that's not what I said. I said she's HIGH UP nice, like TOO nice. Like...she is so graceful and careful and she talks really sweet in this high voice and says things like, 'Oh, thank you Emma.' 'Did you have a nice Thanksgiving, Emma?' 'Do you want to be best friends forever, Emma?'"
Me: "I still don't get what you mean by 'high up nice.' Do you mean because her voice is high?"
Em: "NO! It's like a pyramid. You know, like there's Really Really Bad at the bottom? And then Really Bad above that, and then Bad, and then Nice, and then high up of Nice is Too Nice. Lucy is TOO Nice."
Me: "Um...okay. I'm sorry that her kindness is so upsetting to you. That must be really frustrating."
Em: "Yeah. Well, I don't act rudely to her or anything. I just smile and say, 'Thank you, Lucy.' But inside I know she is too nice for me and we will never be friends."
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Four Years at Supersonic Speed
Four years ago today, I was super pumped to give birth. Being knocked up with my second child, it wasn't as if I didn't know what was coming. I knew my way around a delivery room, and I also knew that a lot of the crap that goes down in there is not pretty. Still...I was like - BRING. IT. ON.
After months of nausea (to all you first-trimester-only "morning" sickness sufferers, I simply say: AMATEURS) and increasingly stressful attempts to control my gestational diabetes that grew from a restricted diet and some finger pricks to a daily regimen of six insulin shots and calls to my endocrinologist every morning, noon and night (literally), I was really really really really really ready to not be pregnant anymore.
So I waddled into that hospital as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning. And after twelve hours of labor, four failed epidural attempts, one sweet-ASS epidural success, and a mercifully small number of pushes, Miss Sophie Patrice Mathews entered the world.
I can't believe that was four years ago. Our baby is not a baby any longer, and my heart sings and breaks simultaneously at the very thought of it. I wish sometimes that I could scrunch her into a little baby ball, like human Play-Doh, and cradle her infant self in my arms just one more time. But mostly, I relish seeing her develop into this independent, feisty, sweet, clever, fantastic little girl...and I'm eager to continue watching her change and grow.
Happy birthday to our beautiful four-year-old! They haven't invented a word yet that adequately expresses how much you are loved, darling Sophie.
After months of nausea (to all you first-trimester-only "morning" sickness sufferers, I simply say: AMATEURS) and increasingly stressful attempts to control my gestational diabetes that grew from a restricted diet and some finger pricks to a daily regimen of six insulin shots and calls to my endocrinologist every morning, noon and night (literally), I was really really really really really ready to not be pregnant anymore.
So I waddled into that hospital as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning. And after twelve hours of labor, four failed epidural attempts, one sweet-ASS epidural success, and a mercifully small number of pushes, Miss Sophie Patrice Mathews entered the world.
I can't believe that was four years ago. Our baby is not a baby any longer, and my heart sings and breaks simultaneously at the very thought of it. I wish sometimes that I could scrunch her into a little baby ball, like human Play-Doh, and cradle her infant self in my arms just one more time. But mostly, I relish seeing her develop into this independent, feisty, sweet, clever, fantastic little girl...and I'm eager to continue watching her change and grow.
Happy birthday to our beautiful four-year-old! They haven't invented a word yet that adequately expresses how much you are loved, darling Sophie.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Another Plea
Hello friends.
You may remember my post from last week about the Chase Community Giving contest that the wonderful non-profit at which I work, Erasing the Distance, is currently competing in. Well, here's an update: WE ARE SO CLOSE TO WINNING!
In order to win the $25,000 for our organization, we must gather enough votes to be in the Top 100 charities when the contest ends at exactly 11:59AM EST Nov. 22nd. (Chase ain't screwing around, people. They are nothing if not specific.) Currently, we are hovering right around the 100th spot. Sometimes we are higher, sometimes lower. Rankings change constantly as votes continue to come in. As you can imagine, this is a very nerve-wracking position in which to be. If we were, say, around 75th place or so, then maybe we could relax a little bit. Conversely, if we were around 130th, we might start resigning ourselves for the inevitable. But bouncing back and forth over the divider line that determines whether we receive $25,000 to help continue to shed light on mental health issues through theatre or whether we end up empty-handed is excruciating.
The support we have received has been tremendous. YOU, my lovely readers, have been tremendous. We've also received some exciting coverage about our contest participation on the web. Click on some of the links below to check it out:
Please continue to encourage everyone you know to vote. Send them this blog post. Point them towards our website, which has all the information you need on exactly how to vote. Explain that we are not asking for money; only a couple minutes of time. Reach out to co-workers, colleagues, and acquaintances with specific requests: Can I distribute information at work? Would you blog about this? Can you post info on your Facebook page/send info in an e-newsletter/email your own contacts? Reach out beyond your closest circle of friends and loved ones. Include people you normally wouldn't think to ask for a favor. I have been pleasantly surprised by some of the people who have been my strongest supporters through this. Give all the people in your life a chance to surprise YOU.
I believe that most people want to be of help - to their neighbors, their friends, and their community - and they simply don't always know how to go about it. Helping Erasing the Distance win this contest is an easy, quick and cost-free way to support a charitable organization and positively impact so many lives. I have personally seen the amazing work Erasing the Distance has done over the last six years, and a $25,000 grant will go a very, very long way toward helping us continue to use the power of performance to disarm stigma, spark dialogue, educate, and promote healing surrounding issues of mental health.
Thank you so very much for your help everybody! Together, we can do this!
You may remember my post from last week about the Chase Community Giving contest that the wonderful non-profit at which I work, Erasing the Distance, is currently competing in. Well, here's an update: WE ARE SO CLOSE TO WINNING!
In order to win the $25,000 for our organization, we must gather enough votes to be in the Top 100 charities when the contest ends at exactly 11:59AM EST Nov. 22nd. (Chase ain't screwing around, people. They are nothing if not specific.) Currently, we are hovering right around the 100th spot. Sometimes we are higher, sometimes lower. Rankings change constantly as votes continue to come in. As you can imagine, this is a very nerve-wracking position in which to be. If we were, say, around 75th place or so, then maybe we could relax a little bit. Conversely, if we were around 130th, we might start resigning ourselves for the inevitable. But bouncing back and forth over the divider line that determines whether we receive $25,000 to help continue to shed light on mental health issues through theatre or whether we end up empty-handed is excruciating.
The support we have received has been tremendous. YOU, my lovely readers, have been tremendous. We've also received some exciting coverage about our contest participation on the web. Click on some of the links below to check it out:
FitPerez.comBut our work is not done. We have to continue to spread the word. There are only a few days left in the contest, and I truly believe we can make this happen. But I need your help.
OakPark.com
MakeItBetter.net
TribuneLocal.com
WantADumpsterBaby.com
GenwithaG.com
Please continue to encourage everyone you know to vote. Send them this blog post. Point them towards our website, which has all the information you need on exactly how to vote. Explain that we are not asking for money; only a couple minutes of time. Reach out to co-workers, colleagues, and acquaintances with specific requests: Can I distribute information at work? Would you blog about this? Can you post info on your Facebook page/send info in an e-newsletter/email your own contacts? Reach out beyond your closest circle of friends and loved ones. Include people you normally wouldn't think to ask for a favor. I have been pleasantly surprised by some of the people who have been my strongest supporters through this. Give all the people in your life a chance to surprise YOU.
I believe that most people want to be of help - to their neighbors, their friends, and their community - and they simply don't always know how to go about it. Helping Erasing the Distance win this contest is an easy, quick and cost-free way to support a charitable organization and positively impact so many lives. I have personally seen the amazing work Erasing the Distance has done over the last six years, and a $25,000 grant will go a very, very long way toward helping us continue to use the power of performance to disarm stigma, spark dialogue, educate, and promote healing surrounding issues of mental health.
Thank you so very much for your help everybody! Together, we can do this!
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Fallen Leaves = FUN
It's like a little mini-movie, if you look at them one right after the other. Don't be fooled by the last pic...there are actually a couple of kids in there!
Monday, November 14, 2011
(Almost) Middle-Aged Besties
I have a best friend.
That sentence feels sort of silly to write at 37 years old. I mean, I'm not, like, in junior high or something, right dude? Well...screw that ageism crap. I am kinda middle-aged (yikes!), I have a best friend, and I still call people "Dude" occasionally. (Although not nearly as much as my best friend.) Take that, stereotypes!
So, my bestie has this awesome blog called GenwithaG.com. Check it out, if you haven't. It rocks. Today, she wrote a blog post that touched me greatly. It may not be obvious to everyone else, but to me, the post reads like a gesture of love to little ole me from one of the most amazing women I know. So I thought I'd share it with you (just click here), because today I'm feeling especially grateful for all the wonderful friends I have in my life, and they don't get any better than Genevieve. I feel so proud and lucky to be her friend, and I want everyone to know it.
That sentence feels sort of silly to write at 37 years old. I mean, I'm not, like, in junior high or something, right dude? Well...screw that ageism crap. I am kinda middle-aged (yikes!), I have a best friend, and I still call people "Dude" occasionally. (Although not nearly as much as my best friend.) Take that, stereotypes!
So, my bestie has this awesome blog called GenwithaG.com. Check it out, if you haven't. It rocks. Today, she wrote a blog post that touched me greatly. It may not be obvious to everyone else, but to me, the post reads like a gesture of love to little ole me from one of the most amazing women I know. So I thought I'd share it with you (just click here), because today I'm feeling especially grateful for all the wonderful friends I have in my life, and they don't get any better than Genevieve. I feel so proud and lucky to be her friend, and I want everyone to know it.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
The Chalkboard of Feelings
I sent the girls to their own rooms for some much-needed alone time after an afternoon of seemingly endless arguing between the two. Emma didn't get a chance to grab her doll Molly beforehand, and I wouldn't let her go back out and get her. (In all honesty, mostly because I was feeling too pissy/petty/annoyed to answer anything other than "No" in the moment.)
A few minutes later, she told me to come read what she'd written to me on her chalkboard. "If something is underlined," Em explained, "that means I REALLY mean it." Here's what the chalkboard said:
I told her that she had expressed her feelings very clearly, and I was proud of her for putting her anger into words instead of screaming or throwing a fit. However, I admitted that when I heard she'd written something especially for me, I had hoped it might be something nice.
A few minutes later, she called me back in to read this:
Good gravy, do I love this girl.
A few minutes later, she told me to come read what she'd written to me on her chalkboard. "If something is underlined," Em explained, "that means I REALLY mean it." Here's what the chalkboard said:
I told her that she had expressed her feelings very clearly, and I was proud of her for putting her anger into words instead of screaming or throwing a fit. However, I admitted that when I heard she'd written something especially for me, I had hoped it might be something nice.
A few minutes later, she called me back in to read this:
Good gravy, do I love this girl.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Queen Merlia in da house
Emma: "Mommy, this is Merlia. She is a queen."
Me: "Well hello, Merlia. It is an honor to meet you."
Emma: "Merlia is my friend, and I am her loyal subject."
Me: "Really? Well Merlia, could you please ask your loyal subject to clear her plate from lunch please?"
Emma leans down to hear Merlia's command.
Emma: "Merlia says that's RIDICULOUS! And by the way, it's Queen Merlia to you, commoner!"
Me: "Well hello, Merlia. It is an honor to meet you."
Emma: "Merlia is my friend, and I am her loyal subject."
Me: "Really? Well Merlia, could you please ask your loyal subject to clear her plate from lunch please?"
Emma leans down to hear Merlia's command.
Emma: "Merlia says that's RIDICULOUS! And by the way, it's Queen Merlia to you, commoner!"
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Please...help a lady out, would ya?
Hello, my lovely blog readers! Don't you all look gorgeous today? Okay, you guessed it...I'm buttering you up.
I'm gonna say right up front that I'm pushing an agenda with this post. I try to rarely do that on my blog, but this is just too important to me. I'm not asking for much, I promise. In fact, my little ole request requires no money and very little time from you. (I know, I sound like a used car commercial, but I swear - it's true!)
As many of you know, one of the fabulous arts organizations for which I work is Erasing the Distance. (Click the link to find out more about us. Go ahead...I know you want to.) Chase Community Giving has a program on Facebook where they give away $3 million dollars to 100 small charities...not charities that Chase chooses, but charities that we the people get to choose. (Wow, I gotta say...using the phrase "we the people" in a sentence is kind of cool. I might start doing it every day.) The winners are determined strictly by which organizations get the most votes. Erasing the Distance is in the running for one of these grants, and I ask you to please please please consider voting for us.
The contest ends Nov. 22nd, so time is of the essence. All you have to do is click the button below and vote for Erasing the Distance. (Make sure you "Like" Chase Community Giving first, or they won't let you vote.) Seriously...it's that easy.
Once you've voted, PLEASE spread the word to family and friends! This a nationwide contest with thousands of charities in the running, so every vote really counts.
I cannot emphasize enough how much a grant of this size would mean to our little organization. Your vote will positively impact so many lives. At the very least, it will impact mine...and from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.
I'm gonna say right up front that I'm pushing an agenda with this post. I try to rarely do that on my blog, but this is just too important to me. I'm not asking for much, I promise. In fact, my little ole request requires no money and very little time from you. (I know, I sound like a used car commercial, but I swear - it's true!)
As many of you know, one of the fabulous arts organizations for which I work is Erasing the Distance. (Click the link to find out more about us. Go ahead...I know you want to.) Chase Community Giving has a program on Facebook where they give away $3 million dollars to 100 small charities...not charities that Chase chooses, but charities that we the people get to choose. (Wow, I gotta say...using the phrase "we the people" in a sentence is kind of cool. I might start doing it every day.) The winners are determined strictly by which organizations get the most votes. Erasing the Distance is in the running for one of these grants, and I ask you to please please please consider voting for us.
The contest ends Nov. 22nd, so time is of the essence. All you have to do is click the button below and vote for Erasing the Distance. (Make sure you "Like" Chase Community Giving first, or they won't let you vote.) Seriously...it's that easy.
Once you've voted, PLEASE spread the word to family and friends! This a nationwide contest with thousands of charities in the running, so every vote really counts.
I cannot emphasize enough how much a grant of this size would mean to our little organization. Your vote will positively impact so many lives. At the very least, it will impact mine...and from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Beware: imagination can maim your ponies and prostitute your mothers
Emma was playing with her ponies when they got into a terrible accident involving a city bus. It sounded quite traumatic, at least judging from all the gruesome sound effects coming out of Emma's mouth. However, she quickly stitched them up, and now broken wing, leg and snout are all healing nicely.
(Sidebar: yes, that is a bra hanging out in the upper right corner of this photo. I can't stand wearing a bra and tend to fling mine off the moment I enter my home, letting it land where it may. I do not now, nor will I ever, apologize for this.)
Sophie drew a picture of me this morning. Considering she's only 3, I'm pretty impressed that she did this all by herself. (Well, except for her signature. She points, I write.) Pretty good likeness, don't you think? I particularly like the beard.
I am mildly disturbed that she inexplicably wrote "Ho" on a drawing of me, but then again - a mother that can't keep her bra on really shouldn't be surprised, I guess.
(Sidebar: yes, that is a bra hanging out in the upper right corner of this photo. I can't stand wearing a bra and tend to fling mine off the moment I enter my home, letting it land where it may. I do not now, nor will I ever, apologize for this.)
Sophie drew a picture of me this morning. Considering she's only 3, I'm pretty impressed that she did this all by herself. (Well, except for her signature. She points, I write.) Pretty good likeness, don't you think? I particularly like the beard.
I am mildly disturbed that she inexplicably wrote "Ho" on a drawing of me, but then again - a mother that can't keep her bra on really shouldn't be surprised, I guess.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Emma on a Wednesday
The other day, Emma caught me worrying over my to-do list and barraged me with questions about it. Today, she made one for herself. Here is Em's to-do list, exactly as she wrote it in her notebook:
She completed #s 1-5 and 11-15. She gave herself the grade of 91 D+, which is apparently a very good score because in to-do list grading you want to get as close to an F as possible. (I have no idea why, and my brain started to bleed when she explained it to me, so I am unable to replicate her reasoning here.)
Then she asked me what grade I got on MY to-do list today. I told her I had no idea, but that it really doesn't matter because tomorrow is another day.
"What do you mean?" Emma asked.
"Well," I sighed, "I just mean that I'll get another crack at it tomorrow. My to-do list never really ends. My whole life is basically one long to-do list."
"Really?!" Emma shrieked. "That is SO COOL!"
Wendsday to do list!
1. Get ready for school
2. Read a book or watch T.V
3. Do my homework
4. Read more books/if I want
5. play on my ds./if I want
6. play with my ponys
7. Play dress up!
8. Sing!
9. Dance!
10. Fashoin show!
11. Make a to do list for thirsday
12. Take a shower
13. Get into pagamaes
14. pick out my clothes
15. Go to bed
She completed #s 1-5 and 11-15. She gave herself the grade of 91 D+, which is apparently a very good score because in to-do list grading you want to get as close to an F as possible. (I have no idea why, and my brain started to bleed when she explained it to me, so I am unable to replicate her reasoning here.)
Then she asked me what grade I got on MY to-do list today. I told her I had no idea, but that it really doesn't matter because tomorrow is another day.
"What do you mean?" Emma asked.
"Well," I sighed, "I just mean that I'll get another crack at it tomorrow. My to-do list never really ends. My whole life is basically one long to-do list."
"Really?!" Emma shrieked. "That is SO COOL!"
Sophie on a Wednesday
Sophie: "I like it when Emma hits my arm when she is being naughty and throwing fits."
Me: "Really? Why would you like that?"
Soph: [shrug] "I love my sister."
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Soph: "When dinner is ready and Daddy comes over to visit our house, can I show him my boo-boo?"
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Soph: "Mommy, I'm hungry. Can I have square cheese?"
Soph: "Mommy, I'm bored. Can you put in a movie?"
Soph: "Mommy, I'm cold. Can I have a blanket?"
Me: "Here you go. Anything else you need? My blood? My soul?"
Soph: "Hmm. Your soul? What is that? Can I play with it?"
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Soph: "Mommy, I have some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first?"
Me: "How about the bad news?"
Soph: "Ok. Halloween is OVER!"
Me: "Yes, I know. That is sad. But what's the good news?"
Soph: [long, long pause] "Um...speaking of...can I have a toaster strudel?"
Me: "Really? Why would you like that?"
Soph: [shrug] "I love my sister."
----------------------------------------------
Soph: "When dinner is ready and Daddy comes over to visit our house, can I show him my boo-boo?"
----------------------------------------------
Soph: "Mommy, I'm hungry. Can I have square cheese?"
Soph: "Mommy, I'm bored. Can you put in a movie?"
Soph: "Mommy, I'm cold. Can I have a blanket?"
Me: "Here you go. Anything else you need? My blood? My soul?"
Soph: "Hmm. Your soul? What is that? Can I play with it?"
----------------------------------------------
Soph: "Mommy, I have some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first?"
Me: "How about the bad news?"
Soph: "Ok. Halloween is OVER!"
Me: "Yes, I know. That is sad. But what's the good news?"
Soph: [long, long pause] "Um...speaking of...can I have a toaster strudel?"
Monday, October 31, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
It takes a real man to carve a fairy
My husband not only tolerates living in a houseful of women...he embraces it. Indeed, despite his legitimate right to claim some man-time among this pool of estrogen that he calls home, he almost always puts our needs above his own. Case in point? Chris loves to carve pumpkins, and this year he had glorious visions of creating something spooky and scary and fierce. But the girls had other plans. Instead of complaining, he got to work...and painstakingly carved the fairy Silvermist.
He's currently watching the first game of the World Series while us chicks marvel at his craftsmanship. (Remember, I said he almost always puts our needs above his own. When the Cardinals are in the World Series, all bets are off. And I say...enjoy, darling. You've earned it.)
He's pretty awesome. Methinks we will keep him.
He's currently watching the first game of the World Series while us chicks marvel at his craftsmanship. (Remember, I said he almost always puts our needs above his own. When the Cardinals are in the World Series, all bets are off. And I say...enjoy, darling. You've earned it.)
He's pretty awesome. Methinks we will keep him.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Pop Dancing
A new dancing video! Happy Friday, and enjoy.
One Viewing Note: the video fades out right about the time Emma starts hitting herself on the head, and then fades back in just before Chris and I beginbegging for gently encouraging the grand finale. In between were an additional FIVE MINUTES of dancing that I left on the cutting room floor. Allow me to sum up what you missed: stomping, mugging, bizarre hand movements, beating of one's own body, giggling, desperate copying of one's older sister, and excessive posing.
Okay, you may commence viewing now.
One Viewing Note: the video fades out right about the time Emma starts hitting herself on the head, and then fades back in just before Chris and I begin
Okay, you may commence viewing now.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
A pumpkin ate my finger!
This was the best I could manage with a sawed-off Qtip. If anyone knows where we can get inexpensive polish pens for design stuff like this, let me know. (Nail painting is one of my secret weapons - it keeps the girls occupied, happy and still for at least a half hour or so, and it's actually kinda fun to do.)
Happy Halloweeeeeeeeeen!
Happy Halloweeeeeeeeeen!
Monday, October 10, 2011
Indigo Girls...You Complete Me (And My Daughters?)
For those of you who skip the ramblings on this blog and go straight for the cute stuff, I'll reveal up front that there is a video of the girls singing at the end of this post. Now you can just scroll down and click, if you so choose, instead of wading through my long-winded love letter to the Indigo Girls.
I have been an Indigo Girls fan for almost 20 years. Our one-sided love affair began when I was a freshman in college. (Good lord, has it seriously been NINETEEN YEARS since I first went off to college?!? I feel sweaty even thinking about it. Or maybe I'm just having a hot flash. But I digress.) My roommate, Rebecca, brought this weird contraption called a CD player. Now, CD players weren't all that new back in 1992 - I'm not that old. But I grew up in a super-awesome-but-financially-strapped-family, so CD players were certainly new to me. (In fact, going from a town of 500 people to a campus with over 30,000 students, many things were new to me at college...but that's a post for another day.)
Rebecca taught me many things during our four month stint as roommates, before I drove her across campus to another dorm for fear she'd commit murder if she lived with me another day. (No worries...we ended up great friends. Life is strange, no?) Here's just a brief list of some of the life lessons I learned while sharing space with Reba:
Simply put, I fell head over heels in love that day. And over the last two decades, my love has only grown stronger. To say that the Indigo Girls is my favorite music group is a bit of an understatement. I own almost everything they've ever produced - including several rare discs that were only released overseas. I've seen them in concert at least 20 times. (At this point, I"ve seriously lost count.) "Power of Two" was my wedding song. If and when I ever get up the nerve to get that first tattoo I've been fantasizing about for years, it will be a quote from one of their songs. And on one perfect day in 2004, I even pulled a few strings at my PR job (which is a nice way of saying that I begged lots and lots of people) and was able to actually meet my idols. I spoke to them, shook their hands, and then watched them perform in front of me, close enough to touch, in a tiny radio studio with only ten people present. A framed picture of us from that day hangs in my bedroom, and a glance at it is still enough to bring tears to my eyes.
People throw around the word "genius" way too often, I know. But truly - as musicians, lyricists, poets, singers, and performers - Emily Saliers and Amy Ray are GENIUSES in their field.
So...uh...yeah. I love them. And I've loved introducing them to my daughters. The girls don't dig a lot of their music. It's hard to fight the power of what's on the radio, like Kesha (I refuse to spell her name with a dollar sign - I REFUSE) and Lady Gaga, particularly with my seven-year-old. But a few songs have stuck. Hands down, their favorite is "Galileo." We sing it as a lullaby almost every night, and my three-year-old is especially enamored with the song. I've tried for months to get video of them singing it together, but as is the case with kids, the minute they sense you really want them to do something, they won't do it. So, despite Grade A begging/bribing/manipulating on my part, they have steadfastly refused to do the performing monkey thing for the camera.
But the other night we had guests over, and suddenly the girls decided to show off. I actually got a video of them singing "Galileo." They skipped a verse and spaced on a few words, but they nailed most of the song.
I cannot adequately emphasize in writing how much joy this video brings me, so I'm not even going to try. Just...enjoy.
I have been an Indigo Girls fan for almost 20 years. Our one-sided love affair began when I was a freshman in college. (Good lord, has it seriously been NINETEEN YEARS since I first went off to college?!? I feel sweaty even thinking about it. Or maybe I'm just having a hot flash. But I digress.) My roommate, Rebecca, brought this weird contraption called a CD player. Now, CD players weren't all that new back in 1992 - I'm not that old. But I grew up in a super-awesome-but-financially-strapped-family, so CD players were certainly new to me. (In fact, going from a town of 500 people to a campus with over 30,000 students, many things were new to me at college...but that's a post for another day.)
Rebecca taught me many things during our four month stint as roommates, before I drove her across campus to another dorm for fear she'd commit murder if she lived with me another day. (No worries...we ended up great friends. Life is strange, no?) Here's just a brief list of some of the life lessons I learned while sharing space with Reba:
- The power of a good hug.
- The joy of executing the perfect prank.
- The exhilarating release of throwing rotten fruit and watching it explode into a zillion pieces.
- When you hear a vacuum running and Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" playing on repeat, it means you will not be sleeping in your own bed for awhile.
- Not everyone is a TV person.
- You can love someone and still want to strangle them.
Simply put, I fell head over heels in love that day. And over the last two decades, my love has only grown stronger. To say that the Indigo Girls is my favorite music group is a bit of an understatement. I own almost everything they've ever produced - including several rare discs that were only released overseas. I've seen them in concert at least 20 times. (At this point, I"ve seriously lost count.) "Power of Two" was my wedding song. If and when I ever get up the nerve to get that first tattoo I've been fantasizing about for years, it will be a quote from one of their songs. And on one perfect day in 2004, I even pulled a few strings at my PR job (which is a nice way of saying that I begged lots and lots of people) and was able to actually meet my idols. I spoke to them, shook their hands, and then watched them perform in front of me, close enough to touch, in a tiny radio studio with only ten people present. A framed picture of us from that day hangs in my bedroom, and a glance at it is still enough to bring tears to my eyes.
I brought my friend Bonnie with me, basically so I had someone to hold my hand and keep me from passing out, and then she almost edges me out of the picture! Amy and I are like, "Sorry to intrude Bon and Emily, but can we be in this photo too?"
People throw around the word "genius" way too often, I know. But truly - as musicians, lyricists, poets, singers, and performers - Emily Saliers and Amy Ray are GENIUSES in their field.
So...uh...yeah. I love them. And I've loved introducing them to my daughters. The girls don't dig a lot of their music. It's hard to fight the power of what's on the radio, like Kesha (I refuse to spell her name with a dollar sign - I REFUSE) and Lady Gaga, particularly with my seven-year-old. But a few songs have stuck. Hands down, their favorite is "Galileo." We sing it as a lullaby almost every night, and my three-year-old is especially enamored with the song. I've tried for months to get video of them singing it together, but as is the case with kids, the minute they sense you really want them to do something, they won't do it. So, despite Grade A begging/bribing/manipulating on my part, they have steadfastly refused to do the performing monkey thing for the camera.
But the other night we had guests over, and suddenly the girls decided to show off. I actually got a video of them singing "Galileo." They skipped a verse and spaced on a few words, but they nailed most of the song.
I cannot adequately emphasize in writing how much joy this video brings me, so I'm not even going to try. Just...enjoy.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Fall Fun While It's 80 Degrees Outside
Waiting for the bus...
Bounce!
Pumpkins!
Pumpkin decorating!
We love Summer/Global Warming/Heatstroke in October Fall!
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Summer In October
Mother Nature gifted us with Summer in October today. The girls and I took advantage of it.
Sophie (literally) hanging out.
If only this kid weren't so camera shy...
Is there anything better than rolling down a hill on a beautiful day?
I've written and deleted at least 10 captions for this photo.
The truth is, seeing it just leaves me speechless with gratitude.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Exercise, mental health, and butt scratching
I wrote a post today for Erasing the Distance's blog. Wait...you've never read Erasing the Distance's blog, you say? Well, what are you waiting for? Check out my post, and then take a look around. Explore. Read up on ETD. We are a pretty cool organization, if I do say so myself.
And for those of you that only read this blog to hear funny anecdotes about my kids and really wish I'd stop talking about ME, here's a little tie-in nugget for ya...
Sophie: "My friend Margot cries when we eat peaches at school, and I don't know WHY! That's just crazy."
Me: "Well, it's not "crazy" - it just means she probably doesn't like peaches."
Soph: "But peaches are YUMMY!"
Me: "Well, I think so too...but not everybody likes peaches. Different people like different things."
Soph: "You mean like how I like to scratch-a my butt but other people don't like to watch me do dat?"
Me: "Um...well...yes, that's exactly what I mean."
And for those of you that only read this blog to hear funny anecdotes about my kids and really wish I'd stop talking about ME, here's a little tie-in nugget for ya...
Sophie: "My friend Margot cries when we eat peaches at school, and I don't know WHY! That's just crazy."
Me: "Well, it's not "crazy" - it just means she probably doesn't like peaches."
Soph: "But peaches are YUMMY!"
Me: "Well, I think so too...but not everybody likes peaches. Different people like different things."
Soph: "You mean like how I like to scratch-a my butt but other people don't like to watch me do dat?"
Me: "Um...well...yes, that's exactly what I mean."
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Latelys
Lately, Sophie has started adopting the phrase "speaking of..." into her vocabulary. Once in awhile, almost by accident, she uses it correctly. For example, I was talking about the zoo and she said, "Speaking of the zoo, can we go see the elephants when we get there?"
But usually she shortens the whole phrase and/or uses it incorrectly, yet always with this focused, thoughtful look on her face that conveys just how much she's trying to converse on an adult level. Sample exchanges from this morning:
Me: "What would you like for breakfast?"
Sophie: "Speaking of...can you read me a book?"
Me: "Clear your plate, please."
Sophie: "Speaking...it looks like it raining outside."
Me: "It's cold today, isn't it?"
Sophie: "Speaking of dat...I gotta poop!"
---------------------------
Lately, Emma's robust ego seems to have taken a hit. She's doing okay in school and likes her teacher a lot, but her self-esteem isn't as healthy as usual due to a number of things - new environment, new kids, lack of old friends, harder curriculum, etc. She was scared to go to school this morning because she's convinced she'll get a zero on her reading test and the teacher will kick her out of class. The other day, she told Chris that everybody thinks her best friend is pretty and they want to be her friend, and nobody thinks Emma's pretty or wants to be her friend. It makes me so sad to hear my normally (over)confident daughter talking like this...not only because I hate hearing her unhappy, but also because I fear it is only the beginning of voluminous amounts of self-doubt to come as she grows older.
However, I was bolstered to hear her typical self-belief emerge in the car yesterday while playing with her sister. Although, per usual with Emma, she took it just a little too far.
Sophie: "I don't want to play that game."
Emma: "Yes, you DO! This is MY world and I make the rules!"
Me: "Em, what are you talking about? You don't control the whole world."
Emma: "I don't mean EVERYBODY'S world, Mom. Just YOUR world and SOPHIE'S world. Duh."
But usually she shortens the whole phrase and/or uses it incorrectly, yet always with this focused, thoughtful look on her face that conveys just how much she's trying to converse on an adult level. Sample exchanges from this morning:
Me: "What would you like for breakfast?"
Sophie: "Speaking of...can you read me a book?"
Me: "Clear your plate, please."
Sophie: "Speaking...it looks like it raining outside."
Me: "It's cold today, isn't it?"
Sophie: "Speaking of dat...I gotta poop!"
---------------------------
Lately, Emma's robust ego seems to have taken a hit. She's doing okay in school and likes her teacher a lot, but her self-esteem isn't as healthy as usual due to a number of things - new environment, new kids, lack of old friends, harder curriculum, etc. She was scared to go to school this morning because she's convinced she'll get a zero on her reading test and the teacher will kick her out of class. The other day, she told Chris that everybody thinks her best friend is pretty and they want to be her friend, and nobody thinks Emma's pretty or wants to be her friend. It makes me so sad to hear my normally (over)confident daughter talking like this...not only because I hate hearing her unhappy, but also because I fear it is only the beginning of voluminous amounts of self-doubt to come as she grows older.
However, I was bolstered to hear her typical self-belief emerge in the car yesterday while playing with her sister. Although, per usual with Emma, she took it just a little too far.
Sophie: "I don't want to play that game."
Emma: "Yes, you DO! This is MY world and I make the rules!"
Me: "Em, what are you talking about? You don't control the whole world."
Emma: "I don't mean EVERYBODY'S world, Mom. Just YOUR world and SOPHIE'S world. Duh."
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Hello, second grade. Nice to meet ya.
Last Tuesday was Emma's first day of second grade.
I rise at 6am so I can sneak in a shower before the rest of the family becomes conscious. After dressing and a little primping (I get nervous on the first day of school too...meeting the teacher, seeing other parents, etc.), I walk quietly into Em's room and mentally prepare myself for whatever spew of fury she might unleash on me upon her awakening. Technically, we have slept in this morning - normally the bus arrives at 6:30am, which means we rise very early indeed. But regardless of whatever extra minutes have been stolen because we are driving to school this day, history indicates that Emma will not be thankful. She HATES not being allowed to awaken on her own, and being the one tasked with getting her up and ready is not a job for the faint of heart. I take a deep breath and shake her gently.
For once, she doesn't whine or growl or moan or burrow under her bed or burst into wails of protest at the horrible cruelty of being forced awake at such a ridiculous hour. She simply stands and heads to the bathroom. I silently thank the first-day-of-school gods for this rare occurrence and walk to the kitchen, where Chris is making Emma breakfast. He has decided to take the day off work so he can hang at home with the little one while I accompany Emma to school without the distraction of my ever-present shadow, Sophie P. Once Em is fed, brushed and dressed, we grab her book bag, lunch and 5 lb. sack of school supplies (I am not kidding...that sucker was HEAVY) and head outside for the obligatory first-day-of-school-posed-pic before hitting the road.
We pick up her best friend O, O's mom and little sister on the way. By the time I drop Em off at school, find parking (impossible), lug the 5lb bag of supplies and my own sorry butt several blocks to the school, ask three different people where the second grade pod is, and find my way to where I am supposed to be, all the students have already been sorted (kind of like in Harry Potter, minus the hat) and I have missed it all. My grand plan of holding Em's hand during the class assignments and consoling her if she is separated from her best friend has gone up in smoke. I discover Em already sitting at a table in her new classroom with a shell-shocked look on her face. Her eyes are bigger than saucers as she catches me in her gaze, waves me over and says in a voice edging toward panic, "O isn't in my class. None of my friends are in my class."
At first glance, it appears true. Virtually none of her friends from first grade are in her class this year. Weird. Bad. Exactly what we feared! Seriously, Em has had nightmares for weeks about this. Oh no. Still, she holds it together pretty well. We listen to her new teacher, Mrs. Whitfield, explain how school will work this year, and I see Em relax a bit as she focuses in on what her teacher is saying. Mrs. Whitfield appears tough and no-nonsense, but also warm and caring. I watch her in action and marvel at how this tiny, lone woman manages to corral 30 seven-year-olds when I can barely handle one. I stay for awhile, help the kids get their school supplies filed away. I am tasked with aiding four kids with lunch money and one table of students with labeling folders. I complete neither task, because children are constantly pulling at me, shouting "Hey, you!" and "Mrs. Jen" and "Parent!" while asking me questions about this, that and the other. Mrs. Whitfield is very gracious when I inform her of my failure, and I wonder again how she keeps everything running (relatively) smoothly and finds time to clean up after parents like me who fail to finish the tiny assignments they are given. I feel good about this teacher, and I hope that Emma does too.
Suddenly, it is 9am. I've been helping for an hour, and now it is time to go. The school has not-so-politely requested that all parents get the heck out of dodge. Em is clingy as I hug her goodbye, and I fear she is going to break down. But she rallies as I whisper in her ear, "I am so proud of you, my little second grader, and I will see you when you get home." Then I flee the scene before either of us starts bawling in the middle of Pod 221. I am actually wearing mascara for once, so bursting into tears would be a disaster on more than one level.
I go about the rest of the day as best I can. I get Sophie to preschool, eat a lovely brunch with husband, enjoy a divine and much-needed nap. But all the while, I worry worry worry about whether or not Em is having a good day. I receive the most fabulous news ever around midday - that Em's new morning bus pick up this year is 7:14am! - which bolsters me for awhile. But as the hours tick by, my anxiety grows.
Chris is the one who gathers Em from the bus stop. He takes her for a celebratory slushie before arriving home. The minute they walk through the door, I know all will be okay. Em has a huge smile on her face, and she declares that she LOVES LOVES LOVES her teacher Mrs. Maria. (How cool, that she lets them call her by her first name? This sort of makes me love her too.) Emma is bouncing around, full of excitement. I sigh a huge breath of relief and settle down to hear all about the fabulous day of this glorious second-grader of mine.
I rise at 6am so I can sneak in a shower before the rest of the family becomes conscious. After dressing and a little primping (I get nervous on the first day of school too...meeting the teacher, seeing other parents, etc.), I walk quietly into Em's room and mentally prepare myself for whatever spew of fury she might unleash on me upon her awakening. Technically, we have slept in this morning - normally the bus arrives at 6:30am, which means we rise very early indeed. But regardless of whatever extra minutes have been stolen because we are driving to school this day, history indicates that Emma will not be thankful. She HATES not being allowed to awaken on her own, and being the one tasked with getting her up and ready is not a job for the faint of heart. I take a deep breath and shake her gently.
For once, she doesn't whine or growl or moan or burrow under her bed or burst into wails of protest at the horrible cruelty of being forced awake at such a ridiculous hour. She simply stands and heads to the bathroom. I silently thank the first-day-of-school gods for this rare occurrence and walk to the kitchen, where Chris is making Emma breakfast. He has decided to take the day off work so he can hang at home with the little one while I accompany Emma to school without the distraction of my ever-present shadow, Sophie P. Once Em is fed, brushed and dressed, we grab her book bag, lunch and 5 lb. sack of school supplies (I am not kidding...that sucker was HEAVY) and head outside for the obligatory first-day-of-school-posed-pic before hitting the road.
At first glance, it appears true. Virtually none of her friends from first grade are in her class this year. Weird. Bad. Exactly what we feared! Seriously, Em has had nightmares for weeks about this. Oh no. Still, she holds it together pretty well. We listen to her new teacher, Mrs. Whitfield, explain how school will work this year, and I see Em relax a bit as she focuses in on what her teacher is saying. Mrs. Whitfield appears tough and no-nonsense, but also warm and caring. I watch her in action and marvel at how this tiny, lone woman manages to corral 30 seven-year-olds when I can barely handle one. I stay for awhile, help the kids get their school supplies filed away. I am tasked with aiding four kids with lunch money and one table of students with labeling folders. I complete neither task, because children are constantly pulling at me, shouting "Hey, you!" and "Mrs. Jen" and "Parent!" while asking me questions about this, that and the other. Mrs. Whitfield is very gracious when I inform her of my failure, and I wonder again how she keeps everything running (relatively) smoothly and finds time to clean up after parents like me who fail to finish the tiny assignments they are given. I feel good about this teacher, and I hope that Emma does too.
Suddenly, it is 9am. I've been helping for an hour, and now it is time to go. The school has not-so-politely requested that all parents get the heck out of dodge. Em is clingy as I hug her goodbye, and I fear she is going to break down. But she rallies as I whisper in her ear, "I am so proud of you, my little second grader, and I will see you when you get home." Then I flee the scene before either of us starts bawling in the middle of Pod 221. I am actually wearing mascara for once, so bursting into tears would be a disaster on more than one level.
I go about the rest of the day as best I can. I get Sophie to preschool, eat a lovely brunch with husband, enjoy a divine and much-needed nap. But all the while, I worry worry worry about whether or not Em is having a good day. I receive the most fabulous news ever around midday - that Em's new morning bus pick up this year is 7:14am! - which bolsters me for awhile. But as the hours tick by, my anxiety grows.
Chris is the one who gathers Em from the bus stop. He takes her for a celebratory slushie before arriving home. The minute they walk through the door, I know all will be okay. Em has a huge smile on her face, and she declares that she LOVES LOVES LOVES her teacher Mrs. Maria. (How cool, that she lets them call her by her first name? This sort of makes me love her too.) Emma is bouncing around, full of excitement. I sigh a huge breath of relief and settle down to hear all about the fabulous day of this glorious second-grader of mine.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Pull my string and watch me go
We made our annual trek to Ohio with the Dippel family and had a glorious week, as usual.
Honestly, the above sentence just took me fifteen minutes to write. Camp is over, school hasn't started yet, and I've been stuck at home with both girls for most of August. After weeks of constant conflict resolution between my warring darlings, my brain has officially stopped working. I've become like one of those dolls you buy in the store that says certain things every time you pull a string in its back. I automatically shout "NO!" and "Stop it!" and "Have you lost your MIND?" when nudged, and otherwise my brain is in sleep mode.
Because I don't have a spare five hours to compose an eloquent paragraph about our vacation, I'm just gonna leave it at this: We had fun. Check out the videos below if you want a laugh. Our poor children, born into theatrical families...and poor us, too. Please, save a little of your sympathy for us?
Honestly, the above sentence just took me fifteen minutes to write. Camp is over, school hasn't started yet, and I've been stuck at home with both girls for most of August. After weeks of constant conflict resolution between my warring darlings, my brain has officially stopped working. I've become like one of those dolls you buy in the store that says certain things every time you pull a string in its back. I automatically shout "NO!" and "Stop it!" and "Have you lost your MIND?" when nudged, and otherwise my brain is in sleep mode.
Because I don't have a spare five hours to compose an eloquent paragraph about our vacation, I'm just gonna leave it at this: We had fun. Check out the videos below if you want a laugh. Our poor children, born into theatrical families...and poor us, too. Please, save a little of your sympathy for us?
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Biology is so cool
I often question my own value and impact...as a mother, a wife, an actress, a person. It's not necessarily the most fun way to live, but it's how I've always been. I rarely feel satisfied with anything I do. I'm always criticizing, worrying, analyzing, berating myself in my head. Why? I don't have an answer to that. All I know is that treating myself lovingly is usually an act of will. I am getting slightly better at it as I age, but I suspect it will always be a struggle.
Yet even on my darkest days, when I despair that I've contributed absolutely nothing of value to this world, I know one thing to be true: I helped create two extraordinary human beings. And that pretty much trumps every horrible, belittling thought about myself that I can conjure. Because Emma and Sophie? They ROCK. And without Chris and me, they wouldn't be here. We actually MADE them.
So, inner critic? Shut your trap. These two glorious girls are in the world at least partly because of me, and that's an accomplishment to be pretty damn proud of.
Yet even on my darkest days, when I despair that I've contributed absolutely nothing of value to this world, I know one thing to be true: I helped create two extraordinary human beings. And that pretty much trumps every horrible, belittling thought about myself that I can conjure. Because Emma and Sophie? They ROCK. And without Chris and me, they wouldn't be here. We actually MADE them.
So, inner critic? Shut your trap. These two glorious girls are in the world at least partly because of me, and that's an accomplishment to be pretty damn proud of.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Fevers and Tea Time
The girls' beloved Grandma Kitty came to visit for a few days, and they were over the moon to see her. Poor Pat. She had no idea what she was walking into when she stepped off that plane at Midway. What she thought was going to be a relaxing, fun-filled weekend of Chicago summer awesomeness quickly turned into an unbearably hot weekend of kid duty. I was sick with a sinus infection for most of her visit, sweating in bed with fever and looking like an extra from Night of the Living Dead. So a lot of the plans we had in place went on hold - either because of my illness or the extremeness of the weather. It was beautifully sunny her entire visit, but so hot that even Pat - who lives in Sarasota, FL - was starting to melt. Our a/c unit couldn't really keep up, so it was hovering around 85 degrees in our apartment most of the time. And because Chris was dealing with the girls all alone, Pat ended up picking up a lot of slack in the child rearing area too. I must say though, she was a complete sport through it all and we were all so sad to see her leave.
Here are a few photos from her trip, including tea time at American Girl Place with the girls, their dolls, and their new "pets" Sugar the dog and Ginger the cat. And the video...well, let's just say that when most parents leave their children with grandma for a few hours, they come home to an art project or some other such thing. We come home to a song-and-dance routine. And I wouldn't have it any other way. (Plus, it's hilarious how Pat quickly loses control of her back-up singers as the girls forge their own paths and pay no attention to direction. Welcome to our world, G. Kitty.)
Here are a few photos from her trip, including tea time at American Girl Place with the girls, their dolls, and their new "pets" Sugar the dog and Ginger the cat. And the video...well, let's just say that when most parents leave their children with grandma for a few hours, they come home to an art project or some other such thing. We come home to a song-and-dance routine. And I wouldn't have it any other way. (Plus, it's hilarious how Pat quickly loses control of her back-up singers as the girls forge their own paths and pay no attention to direction. Welcome to our world, G. Kitty.)
I know, this pic is totally random from the rest...but OH MY GOD. The most perfect capture of Sophie's current penchant for pouting I have ever seen. World, let me introduce you to the other side of my daughter, Miss Sophie Cranky-pants.
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