Words cannot justify how I feel about my kid. Totally cliche, I know. But it's true. I love being her mommy. I love hearing her call for me when she wakes up in the morning. I miss her while she's sleeping! & even though I hate it when she's feeling miserable, I do love that she's extra cuddly.

In just a few short days, my baby will officially be a toddler. Just the thought of that word, puts a pit in my stomach. It sounds so silly {and again, cliche} to be dreading my daughter growing up, but I can't shake it.



Pathetic maybe, but lately I've been mourning over the loss of her babyhood. Girlfriend's growing up, y'all.


While I'm smitten over her toddler abilities, I'm going to miss the days where Emmy would let me hold and rock her chubby little baby body.


Okay, let's be real.... I miss being able to sit her on the floor and be 100% confident she won't go anywhere because, well, she can't. {Those days are loooonnng gone, my friend!}


But with this new toddler-life, comes many perks:

Like the fact that she can sing every.single.letter of her ABCs.


& can count to TEN, clear as day.


{The part where she then proceeds to launch herself off the couch onto the ottoman? Notsomuch.}




Her vast vocabulary amazes me. Life is easier in so many ways now that she can verbalize her needs and wants. Although, sometimes it backfires.... like when I ask her what she wants, and she throws a hissy-fit because she wants "more cheese? okay! thank you," and I say no because she's already had 234 slices!


But oh how I love listening to her little girly voice--especially when she sings. Which she pretty much does 80% of the day.


My favorite is listening to her sing the hymnal, Father We Thank Thee...

& it never gets old when she interrupts me singing the ABCs, to sing Edelweiss, from The Sound of Music. Yes. She knows all the words. Her daddy taught her.


{seriously, what almost 18-month-old knows the lyrics to Edelweiss?!}

Not only is she Little Miss Chatterbox, but she's also polite. 90% of the time, she will voluntarily say "yes, please," "thank you," "more, please," etc... Melts.My.Heart.


Her ability to retain information amazes + dumbfounds me. I can say something once, and she remembers it for life.


I die over listening to her talk on the phone. She'll walk around the house with either my iPhone or her pretend phone and have a whole conversation. With her GG (my mom), Auntie, 'Mick-Mouse', Daddy....


She cracks me up! "Hi Auntie. Ummm... Lucas? Hello. Ummm... Yes. Love you. Bye-Bye. See ya!" Then she holds the phone up to my ear so I can chat with them, too.



Although I'm dreading the thought of saying the words, "I have a toddler," out loud, I am looking forward to what toddler-hood has to offer... dance classes, potty-training {not the training part, but the no diapers part}, swimming, art projects, more trips to Disney, and hopefully (but I won't hold my breath) hair growth! Ha! I can't wait for the day I can put a precious little pony in her hair ;)

If anyone has figured out a way to slow down the speed of babies growing, please feel free to share!

katie

For anyone who is a little OCD, or Type A, the word *flexibility* can leave you feeling like a fish out of water. You can't live without like your neat + orderly planner... color coded, of course!

But what happens when Life's Oopsie Daisies knocks down your door? How do you react? Do you hold yourself together like the Queen of England, or do you react like Snooki after one too many drinks? I'm gonna take a guess here, and not judge you for throwing a few *F bombs* and weave-pulling when that color coded planner of yours needs a nice coat of White-Out.

But what's the use in panicking, or throwing a fit Jersey Shore style? What's that going to get you? A headache? More wrinkles? A Xanax?

I had one of those nights last night. All day I had been looking forward to my mother-in-law coming to watch Emmy in the late afternoon, so I could sneak away for a much needed pedicure. Teaching sixteen very chatty 3-4 year-olds ballet + tumbling had me exhausted, and nothing sounded quite better than sitting in a massage chair, getting my feet rubbed. Can I get an Amen?!

But, Life's Oopsie Daisy knocked on my door. My MIL called to say that my FIL was having car troubles so she would have to take a rain-check on babysitting. Damn. Of course I felt disappointed since I had been looking forward to it all day and really needed it for my sanity but my in-law's situation was much!more!important! than my toes.

Instead of crawling up into a ball, I called my mom to see if she could swing by after work... YES!

Problem solved, right?

Wrong.

My dad called to say that my mom got into a small fender-bender. Thank goodness she was perfectly fine {albeit pissed} and it was just a small dent, but she was waiting on the police to file a report.

All right, so no pedicure for me tonight. I may come across as a brat to some, but any momma knows, sometimes you just neeeed an hour {or two, or three, or...} to yourself. It makes you a better mother.

So instead of huffing + puffing about my plans changing, I decided to be flexible. If I couldn't go out to get a pedicure, I'd just do one myself after the little bambino went to bed. Although not my original plan, or my ideal option, the problem was solved. I would have a fresh coat of polish on my tootsies, and my dignity--having kept my cool, unlike someone-with-a-monster-pouf ;)

But, the story's not over quite yet, my friends...

The doorbell rings, and it's my mother-in-law! With dinner! Ohh how I love her...
She was able to swing by and feed us, before heading on to other obligations.

Then to make things even better, my dad shows up! He said my mom was going to be late, but she was on her way....

Can you guess what happened next?

Yep. Pedicure Paradise, here I come!

After getting turned away from one place because the wait was too long, I soon found myself sinking into the massage chair; gyrating from the mechanical vibrations, and smiling all the while...

Gratitude doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about my family--pulling through for me, even with their own Life's Oopsie Daisies.


**So how do you deal with Life's Oopsie Daisies? Do you panic? Pull your weave out a-la-Jersey-Shore-style? Or are you calm, cool, and collected like the Queen?**

loyally,
katie