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Mr. Roboto has landed

And Andre even cleared a space in the garage for him. I'm a little afraid to drive it though, it's still so perfect. (I don't exactly have a spotless fender ding record.) Andre was a little ashamed of it, I think, but now that we're ordering the MROBOTO license plate he's totally jealous. I suddenly feel this intense need to go to the grocery store and soccer practice.

Yay!

1. My sister is coming for a visit.
2. The fair. And greasy food! And carnival rides! And the state's biggest pumpkin! And the rodeo!
3. We pick up the minivan on Friday. Fiona is torn between naming it "Sesame" or "Mr. Roboto."
4. Fiona got transferred to the morning class for preschool this fall. So much better than the afternoon class, we can actually have the much needed nap in the afternoon.
5. Fiona loves her swimming lessons.
   
6. Miss McPlumpington (aka Amelia) is developing her schedule and gives me a good chunk of sleep every night.

Boo!

1. Miss McCrabington (aka Amelia) has developed into a hair puller. Including her own hair. Then she looks at me like, "Who in the hell would pull my hair? I'm just a helpless baby."
   
2. Fiona has had three nasty bloody noses in the past week and I'm tired of cleaning up bloody sheets. And walls. And floors. And clothes. And wondering if I were ever suspected of murder if the trace remains of old blood spattered all over our second floor would be what gets me convicted.
3. We still have over a month until the Amazing Race starts again.
   
4. I have to go to the grocery store.
   

So freaking cute I can barely stand it

Fiona started swimming lessons today and was so excited that she could barely keep it together long enough to change out of her clothes when we got to the pool. She was misregistered into the older kids class and freaked out a little when it looked like she was going to have to swim with big kids in the eight foot pool, but then we found the right spot and she swam happily with the noodles for the rest of the time. I'm loving the post swimming lessons tired kid nap effect myself.

The metamorphosis is nearly complete

Take two recent grad school graduates living in the hip part of town. Insert child. Insert house in the burbs. Insert second child. Insert stay-at-home-motherhood. Insert MINIVAN. Yes, yes, all we need now is an unhealthy pride in our lawn and an unnaturally cheery smile and we'll be indistinguishable from the rest of the suburbanites. The most frightening part? I'm am so freaking excited to get the minivan that I want to bake the car makers some brownies or something.

Summer baby

I thought it would be so awesome to have a summer baby. Fiona and I would pop the baby in the stroller and spend long hours playing on the beach while the baby cooed peacefully on a blanket. We'd rush off to the playground and the baby would watch her sister playing for hours with all of the other carefree children. We'd go to the zoo, go to the Aquarium, while away the time looking at the baby ducks at the lake or choosing the perfect corn at the farmer's market. It was going to be one freaking fantastic summer. I seem to have forgotten a few key facts about babies. Babies cry. Babies can't wear sunscreen. Babies want to eat all the time and ginormous tatas are not conducive for cleverly nursing in public without everyone in the world gaping at the lady with the naked watermelons trying to get her baby latched on over there on the park bench.

Oh well, maybe next year.

20 years ago

Because I'm at a loss, I thought I'd dip back into the old diary again. Mothers of young girls, please remember this diary entry when your daughter is fourteen and you're completely at wit's end with her. I don't remember feeling this miserable in my own skin, so it's good that I have the written proof. I do remember that junior high sucked. In fact, if I ever had a magical genie offer to transport me back in time, junior high would be at the very bottom of the visit list. In fact, I would probably pay that genie to keep me as far away from that time as possible. In fact, I feel like I need to start saving up money right now in order to have a fund for any time travel related genie bribing just so there is no possible way I ever have to even think about junior high again. To the diary:

July 1, 1987

I'm ugly. I wish I could lose weight, but even then I'll never be really pretty. If I could just look like Jami or someone else who's really nice looking I would be happy. But no there's just ugly old me in my ugly old outdated clothes . . . I am so scared about being a freshman, I mean everybody says it will be fine and dandy but I'm really the type of person people pick on, you know - fat + ugly + smart. That's three strikes and you're out. Maybe I'm not the neatest person but now (and I have this in writing) I will lose weight and find a hairstyle that's a teeny bit complimentary of my ugly face. At least I have some OK friends. If they'll still want me I'm so babyish.

Wow, now there was some powerful self loathing brought about by junior high trials and tribulations - I don't think the glasses and braces combination helped much either. I feel like I need to say a little thank you prayer every day that I grew out of this stage. While I have some post-baby body issues, I've never felt that terrible about myself again. Unfortunately, I never have found that perfectly complimentary hairstyle.

My new job

A conversation with the new boss:

Fiona: Mama, what's a cyclops?
Me: A cyclops is a monster with one eye.
Fiona: And one ear.
Me: Well, I don't know about the one ear, but I know he only has one eye.
Fiona: No, he has two eyes.
Me: Nope, that's pretty much the definition of a cyclops, just one eye.
Fiona: No mommy, you're wrong, a cyclops has two eyes and one ear.
Me: Sigh...
Fiona: Mama, what's a cyclops?
Me: A cyclops is a monster with one eye.
Fiona: You're right, mommy. A cyclops only has one eye.
*Silence*
Fiona: And one ear.

It's like I never left my old job. At least the benefits are good.

Fabulous week

To top off my week of drama queen vaccinations, fretting away several night's sleep, and the incident of which we are no longer speaking, Fiona now has the stomach flu. The pediatrician's office says that it's going around and that she probably got it at the doctor's office. Wonderful. At least she made it to the toilet and didn't puke in my bed. (Or in my mouth as she did to Andre the last time she was sick.) She's now trying to play fetch with Ellis so I think she's feeling better after the barfing. Man that kid needs a dog.

The deed is done.

It went poorly. We will never speak of it again.

The deed is not yet done

Yesterday was supposed to be Quit Day. Instead it became "Fiona got three shots and the ensuing drama lasted the rest of the day because she was acting like we tried to kill her" day. Both of the girls had checkups yesterday. Fiona continues to be our little shorty and is in the 35th percentile* for height. The doctor described her as "sturdy." Amelia is in the 70th percentile for height and the 40th for weight, my string bean. The doctor thought both girls were doing great. Then came time for the shots. Fiona was prepared for one shot, but the doctor wanted to do three. Uh oh. She did great for the first one, the tears started after the second one, the wailing after the third. Then she watched Amelia get her shots so she saw exactly what had been done to her. Hysteria. She cried while I got Amelia dressed, cried while I made A's next appointment, cried as we walked to the car, cried as she got buckled in. As we pulled away she said (sobbing), "When we get home you have to carry me up the stairs and lay me in my bed and put my blanket on me and (heaving sobs) get me a sippy cup of milk, because (wailing) I GOT THREE SHOTS IN MY ARM!" I'm of the stiff upper lip category myself so the drama took me a bit by surprise. We didn't end up going to my work because I didn't want to drag the wailing, snot-streaming girl with me.

So of course, I didn't sleep at all last night fretting about it. I just need to get this over with.

*I think those are the right percentiles. If not, they're close.

D-Day

Tomorrow's the day I tell my boss that I'm not coming back from maternity leave. I feel like I'm going to vomit.

Birth control

If your teenage girl works the drive-through window at the McDonalds near the ferry, you owe me a big thank you for bursting the bubble on any romantic visions of having babies she may have harbored. As we drove into the line, Mia started screaming because she was DONE being in her carseat. Fiona started crying because she could no longer hear the Annie soundtrack over her sister's howling. I turned up Annie so she could hear it and made it up to the window. The girl looked out her window to see a very harried looking woman with two kids screaming in the back and "Hard Knock Life" blaring on the radio. I'm not sure if the look she gave me was pity or fear. You can bet she'll be extra careful with her birth control for a while.

Fiona is four!

The revelry is finally over. Fiona turned four on Thursday and somehow this turned into a very BIG birthday. Like she got her driver's license and had her first communion and graduated from high school and could finally legally drink and got engaged all in one big celebration. I think everyone is feeling that she needs to be especially showered with love this year since the interloper moved into her life. The birthday in pictures:

Opening the mountain of gifts. UPS just kept coming back with more and more and more and we could barely move in the house without stepping on presents.















On Friday, we were supposed to go have a special big girl tea and Fiona and Gramcie got all dressed up in their tea party finest. Little did we know, Friday was bad luck day. I got lost on the way to the tea place, Amelia started screaming and wouldn't stop, we hit construction, then a delay on the freeway because of the Blue Angels performance. We finally just went to the Jack in the Box drive through and came home and had our "tea party."















We walked out to the yard to take pictures at least and right before this was taken, Gramcie got stung by some sort of evil insect that gave her a skin infection and swelled up her entire arm. She's on antibiotics for ten days now. Nasty, nasty bad luck day.




















Saturday was the big birthday party blowout. Gramcie made the incredible castle cake and I made a play castle out of cardboard boxes.





























We ended up with 6 kids attending between the ages of 1 and 6, plus all their parents and my great aunt. Of course we had to put together themed favor boxes and provide princess hats for the girls and crowns for the boys. Andre was going to do a simple barbecue of hamburgers and hotdogs, but ended up adding a full menu of appetizers and sides like pesto pasta salad and bleu cheese potato salad. Needless to say he spent several hours cooking before the party and then spent the entire party food wrangling.

We had several activities planned, but with the wide age range of the kids the only things that really worked were the "king's treasure" hunt and the pinata. The rest of the time we just let them run around on the lawn. I think at one point Fiona was making everyone pretend to be puppies, but I'm not sure.






























We finally got through the full party agenda by 8:30 pm, just in time for all the kids to start melting down from exhaustion and sugar crashes. I'm sure their parents loved us. Next year we are totally going to Chuck E. Cheese or something, throwing a party is hard work. I hope Fiona had a good time and I think we've thoroughly made up for bringing in the competition:





Don't even think about a princess party Amelia, I'm done.

Amelia in August

Smiling











Eating own flesh














Poking self in eye














Mad as hell and ain't going to take it no more