My savior

Tonight, had you stood outside the door to our apartment, and listened in between the hour of 7 and 8 pm, you could be forgiven for thinking that either 1) I was completely abusing my children, or 2) my children are unable to communicate except through screaming, crying and yelling at the top of their lungs.

Jellybean and Monkey yelled and cried because I wanted them to eat. Because I wanted them to keep the milk in their cups instead of on the floor. Because I insisted that hair brushes are not intended to be dipped into milk and then sucked on. Because chocolate is not a main course. Because air must be breathed. Because the light is burnt out in their overhead lamp. Because I am not dad. Because baths are required when your face is covered in dirt. Because it was night time. Because the cat wouldn't stay anywhere near them as they S>C>R>E>A>M>E>D>>>>>> at the top of their miniature lungs. (good lungs, those!)

(they were a tad bit overtired, I think)

And then, it happened. They cried and asked why  - WHY - wasn't Ollie cat staying with them.

I told them the truth. Ollie cat doesn't like it when they cry. She likes it when they are quiet. And happy.

And I swear to G*d, it took Jellybean precisely 4 seconds to simmer down and plaster a smile on her face.  When I carried Ollie into the living room it took only another 10 seconds for Monkey to stop the hiccuping and dry her tears.

Jellybean, bless her earnest little soul, turned to me and said "I can be happy now mama"...as she stroked Ollie's soft fur.

I am totally brushing Ollie an extra 10 minutes tonight. She can even have my pillow, if she wants it. She's earned it.

Terrible Twos

The terrible twos are upon us.

When Monkey was two, she was an....oddly logical creature. A Vulcan, if you will. You would stop a temper tantrum by giving her a reason - any logical reason - for the offending behavior. And she would stop her tantrum, adjust herself mentally with a shrug, and say OK. Done. Now, she still had some pretty f-reaking spectacular tantrums (there's one in my memory, of demanding multiple cookies, with echoing shrieks and screams of displeasure echoing across Columbia's campus....), but still - she was oddly logical and collected for an insane two year old. Three? Phew. Three was hard. But two? Two rocked.

Jellybean? I am thinking she is going to do the terrible twos up right. Tantrums. Time outs. Fisticuffs and shenanigans. After all, she already broke my nose.

But this is the weird part. She LIKES timeouts.  In fact, she gives them to herself. Happily!

We're screwed.

Interlude

Usually, evenings are a hectic mashup of the girls being hungry, being tired, struggling to garner my attention, etc. etc. etc.

This week, school is closed. In fact, Monkey will not be going back - she's graduated! But I digress.

This evening, I came home to reliever the sitter and, as I was leisurely preparing some baked salmon, I heard the girls....doing nothing.

I heard nothing.

So, I investigated. And found the two of them, side by side on the guest bed, reading books. It was lovely.

And then Jellybean objected to the excerpt she was reading and threw herself screeching on the book.

Interlude, interrupted. As it should be.

You win some, you lose some

So this morning was a mixed bag. Monkey referred to The Girls' Room as "my room" (see! told you it was coming!). And that made me smile.

On the other hand, when I dropped the girls off at school I learned that Jellybean, aka Jaws, is biting. Again. She bit two kids yesterday because she didn't want to share (her toys, her space).

Like I said, you win some (sharing is good!), you lose some (sharing stinks, am biting in outrage!).

Dictionary entry

Main Entry: de·fi·ant
Pronunciation: \-ənt\
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle French, from Old French, present participle of defier to defy
Date: 1583
: full of or showing defiance : bold, impudent
— de·fi·ant·ly adverb
: see Monkey, or; see Jellybean.

Family Tree

Over the Easter/Passover/Spring Break/We’re just closed indefinitely break at Jellybean and Monkey’s school, Grandma Larson came out to help watch the girls. And, while she was here, the girls had a GREAT time. (Grandma, on the other hand, worked. She’s STILL tired out, I think!).

And, because school was closed for sooooo f’ing long (seriously, 8 days. EIGHT DAYS! That is SERIOUSLY f’ing with my girls’ schedule! And they LIKE their schedule. Messing with it MAKES THEM CRANKY) , well, things got a little out of whack. Naps were missed, bedtimes slid around, and sometimes, just sometimes, people got cranky.

Monkey threw some whopping tantrums while Grandma Larson was here. Seriously, messing with their schedule really messes with their heads. That – that or she’s just three. You decide.

One day, she declined quiet time. It had gotten late, she didn’t want to stop doing what she was doing (probably building a fort or otherwise demolishing the apartment), it had been raining all day so she’d been cooped up inside, and she was defiant. She was NOT going to take a nap. I assured her that I wasn’t laboring under the delusion that she would sleep, but she still needed to be in her room, by herself, for quiet time. This did not go over well. It involved yelling. It involved some screaming. It involved some whining (piteously, with a swelling chorus of violins in the background) “no, don’t leave meeeeee, I don’t want to be aloooooone….”, and finally, it involved me being disinherited.

Yes, she officially told me that YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER ANY MORE. Note the abuse of caps? Well, it’s nicer that the abuse of my eardrums – this message was screamed! (my neighbors were very unhappy at this point in time, I’m sure).

So I asked if I could reapply tomorrow. You know, to be her mother again.

Monkey paused (which is funny – ever seen a tantrum just halt?), stretched her index finger up to the sky, shook it at me and said YES……….BUT ONLY TOMORROW!

The September Issue

When Monkey was little, I dressed her to the nines. Her outfit would match, including coordinated hair ribbons, socks and shoes.

Each day, I'd comb out her hair and put it into delicious pigtails. And she'd let me! She'd sit still long enough that I could get a straight part, adjust the ribbons, etc.

Now?

Not only does she NOT let me pick out her clothing or do her hair, she often throws a fit when I suggest that she wear - nay, even TRY - something on that she didn't select.

I have already written about her contempt for the color green. What I haven't written about is the battle royale that occurred last week.

Last week, the weather shifted from unusually cold to unusually warm. And I was caught unprepared to dress my children for school. Monkey's down-filled puffer jacket was way too hot to wear. So, we layered - threw a fleece on under a raincoat. The only problem was that this was a NEW raincoat, and Monkey didn't like it. Oh, the drama. The crying and whining and proclamations of "I don't like you; you're not my friend ANYMORE"...it was the pits.

So, I went to Baby Gap the very next day, eschewing lunch so I could shop for my beloved daughter, and I bought a cute pink windbreaker/spring jacket. I was proud of myself! (You realize that shopping, unless it is online, is limited to what I can do in ten minutes at lunch....(places like Duane Reed, CVS, and thaaaaaat's about it!) .....I have no other time to run errands in this vast city, so getting to the Gap was a coup for me! but I digress....)

The next morning I unveiled the fabulous FANTASTIC pink jacket. And it was worse that the day before.

It was an episode of Under The Table And Screaming (apologies to Dave Matthews...). When I finally got Monkey calmed down again, and the tears and shaking and shuddering had ceased....I asked her why she didn't like the jacket.

She told me that it was pink.

But you love pink, I exclaimed.

She looked at me like I'd pulled a kafkaesque metamorphosis into a giant turdball, rolled her eyes, and said "NO mommy. It's DARK pink."

****

Meanwhile, I was grateful that at least with Jellybean, she doesn't fight with me about her clothing since she's only 15 months old! Yeah, famous last words.

She threw a temper tantrum that very same morning, because she wanted to wear a different jacket than the one I'd picked out for her.

******

Part of me wants to know where in g*d's green earth these two get this from. After all, I don't think I'd looked at an issue of Vogue until I moved to NYC!

The other part of me? Is proud. My little (stubborn stinkers of) girls are going to do just fine.

Happy St. Patrick's Day to you

For the record, I have no less than 10-12 entries floating around in my brain. I'll get to them eventually, I promise....

I wouldn't have thought that the question of whether or not Monkey and Jellybean wore green today would be something post-worthy. But apparently I was WRONG. No less than 7 people I work with today asked me what cute little green outfits I put the girls into this morning......

And the answer? I know you are BURNING with curiosity, yes you are! Nothing.

Not one stitch of green between the two of them, unless you count the green on the front of Jellybean's diaper. (at least I'm pretty sure that there's green there - I googled Pamper's Cruisers to be sure and yup - there's a teensy bit of green).

Why? Because Monkey hates green. HATES IT! Hates it with the white-hot intensity of a star going super-nova. I tried to get her to wear a green shirt and once the tantrum ended and I mopped the tears off the floor, Monkey informed me that she did not like green AT ALL and therefore I should "give it to Jellybean..." (and apparently I haven't bought anything new for Jellybean that's green, either)

Sadly, yes, my eldest child has now learned that she can "give" anything she doesn't like to her little sister.....it's like the gambit of feeding veggies to the dog under the table. Not that we have a dog, or that she hasn't asked for one "when Oliver dies" every day for the past week. But I digress.

The point is? No green. Apologies to my children's Irish heritage.

And for the record? On St. Andrew's day they aren't going to wear tartan, either. Most days I'm lucky I can get them to put a coat on!

Digital native

These days, there is a lot of talk about digital natives versus digital immigrants. As in, those that are born to it versus those that learn later in life. I am a digital immigrant. I only got a phone (and data plan) that could handle texting in any quantity because that's how my babysitters communicate. Now that I text I confess I really like it. But I had to be convinced.

Monkey and Jellybean, on the other hand, are bound to view texting as downright archaic by the time they demand their own phones: they are growing up with this technology and will never realize that life didn't always exist this way.

Kind of like when my mom would tell me the story of what a big deal it was when the first family in her neighborhood got a color TV. I was flabbergasted that TV had ever even existed in black and white! And somehow, putting a man on the moon always seemed like something that - of course! - we could do. Mind you I was born less than six months after that event...but to me, life had always been that way.

Jellybean is funny. Her temper tantrums in public almost always involve me denying her access to my phone or blackberry. When we were in DC back in December, we let her play with the DVD remote at the hotel because it didn't matter if she turned it on or off, it wasn't like the whole system would turn on (versus here, where we have one godwand with ALL the devices programmed into it). And even at one year of age, she'd hit a button, then turn and look at the TV expectantly...she knows how remotes work. (god I can hear myself now....Jellybean, I had to walk up hill both ways when I was a kid, and I even had to (the horrors!) get off my tush and go to the TV to change channels, can you believe it? Also, I had dinosaurs as pets, since I'm that old....)

Jellybean's love of all things electronic includes a blossoming love affair with the humidifier in our room. Even when we latch the door in a semi-closed position, she'll wiggle in between the door and the jamb, barely eeking through, so that she can go turn the humidifier on, then off, then on, then off....it's love, I tell you. In fact, anything that she can turn off or on is adored. And some toys? They're getting left behind....alas, no battery or electricity required.

I've been missing you........

This past month has been hard. We’ve suffered through a slew of illnesses; I joked that it was the cold that kept on giving, as we all seemed to rotate who was sickest, who was on antibiotics, who was crankiest. But now, in the fresh New Year, we’re all on the mend. And it is about freakin’ time! I’m sick of being sick. Done. DONE, do you hear me?

It’s always rough to watch your kids when they are sick. You are helpless to do much other than offer hugs (when they’ll take them) and offer sustenance – food, shelter, a warm bath. Maybe a few DVDs of Pixar movies. You try to be kind when you give them medicine, and try not to be forced to pin them to the floor with your knees while one hand holds their mouth/eyelid open and the other drops in medicine. You get good about enticing them to take their medicine – coloring it purple, covering it in chocolate haagen daaz ice cream. You do whatever it takes.

But that takes something out of you, in return.

For the last month, Monkey has been a bit of a pill. Rather…..unenjoyable at times. And I’ve been telling other friends that are parents that 3? 3 is REALLY hard. And worse, that I don’t really like 3. I love my child, but don’t like 3. And that made me feel bad. Rotten, in fact. Like I was betraying my child to say I wasn’t enjoying every single second of my time with her….even if what I wasn’t enjoying was the temper tantrums and tears, the crabbiness and drama.

But for the last week? Yes, 3 has been hard at times, but it’s also been…..magical.

Monkey has violent swings of emotions all 3 year olds experience - yes they are still there - but we’ve been able to move past them. And we’ve moved past them into fun, imaginative, magical play.

I celebrated my 40th birthday this past Monday, and spent most of my day playing with my girls. My two, beautiful, fun girls.

And other than my heart swelling up and breaking into a million little pieces when they hug each other or fall into one another’s arms giggling, the most prevalent emotion I’ve felt is something akin to recognition. As in – hey, I recognize you, kid – and I’ve missed you! I’ve been lonely, missing my happy Monkey. God, am I glad she’s back!

(Until the next cold….that is. Knocking on wood, here.)

Magic

This past week was a little rough, health-wise. After 10 days of the sniffles, Jellybean got two ear infections.

Not to be competitive or anything, but Monkey had to one-up her little sister and get an ear infection that ruptured her eardrum. OW!

Of course, we never knew that Monkey had an ear infection in the first place. We just attributed her general attitude to being an insane three year old!

Whoops.

Both girls got antibiotics, and Jellybean takes hers without complaint; to be honest, I thinks he kind of likes the flavor!

Monkey - not so much.

The first day she whined, whinged and threw a heckuva tantrum for at least 45 minutes, refusing to take the medicine. At one point I found myself threatening to hold her down and inject the medicine into her mouth with a syringe, the same way I give medicine to Jellybean - can you imagine how awful that would have been? Child protective services would have heard the screaming way out in New Jersey on that one, if it had come to pass.....

But then, in her trembling voice, Monkey complained that the medicine was white! (she's used to the purple tylenol and ibuprofin....)

Oh. OK then.

1 minute later I presented her with PURPLE medicine. She was impressed, and wanted to know how I did that!

MAGIC I said, palming the food coloring. Magic.

She took the medicine and declared it to be tasty, like lemonade.

Damn, I'm good sometimes.

On Milestone Charts

Milestone charts were a secret obsession of mine when Monkey was little. I read them ALL THE TIME to make sure Monkey was doing OK. Or to obsess because she *might* be delayed, or better yet gloat because she *might* be ahead woohoo!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gentle readers – no one will know, you can nod your head in silent recognition of your version of this common malady…..

No, really - go ahead, I’ll wait a moment................
..............
................
OK, we can move on now.

This time around, I might remember to check in once or twice, but I now realize their value. They are truly helpful at…………driving traffic to those websites. Aaaaaaaand, that’s about it.

Because really, sometimes they are SO wrong it is pitiful.

To wit: one popular website (cough cough cough BabyCenter cough) lists 16 months as the point that “most” children have temper tantrums when they are frustrated.

Jellybean already does that. She’s 8.5 months old.

Yeah, um, so I don’t know if I want to gloat about my baby being “advanced” on that one. Kind of feels like a karmic bite in the ass, if you know what I mean.

Again???

So the whole cookies for breakfast debacle began with a gesture of kindness. M got up a little earlier than usual and made old fashioned oatmeal for breakfast. Now, I just love oatmeal, but rarely do I have the time (or the patience) to make that in the morning. I'm too busy trying to remember to put my underwear on right to be bothered with a hot meal. Therefore, when M does this I am thrilled. It's such a simple gesture, but it makes my day.

Monkey has enjoyed this oatmeal before, asking for more of either my bowl or M's bowl. So, logically (whoops, our first mistake) assuming Monkey would want her own bowl, M served it up. I added honey and raisins, and Monkey went ballistic.

M attempted to entice her into taking a bite - just a bite - by explaining it was like an oatmeal cookie in her bowl. And that's when it started, the begging, the pleading, the crying and wailing.....because in the cupboard, just a few feet away, were the tasty oatmeal cookies Monkey had made with Nana. Now that daddy had said the "c" word (cookie, people! get your mind out of the gutter!) word, all bets were off.

Despite all the drama, and M’s and my laughter at the theatrics, I decided to include a cookie in her lunch bag. Because after all, who wouldn’t want a homemade cookie for lunch, right?

Of course when we got to school, Monkey continued to insist on eating her cookie RIGHT THEN. At one point in time she was laying on the floor, crying and trying to writhe her way to freedom with the cookie in her hand (to no avail - I can walk faster than she can writhe. But it was a sight to see!). And the cookie went back into her lunch bag.

That evening, when I picked Monkey up from school, one of her teachers told me a story about lunchtime: when Monkey opened up her lunch she immediately pulled the cookie out. Turning, she looked at her teacher and asked “Can I have the cookie now? Or is mommy going to say no AGAIN?

Can't you just see that eye roll?

Why, howdy neighbor!

Monkey's daycare is closed this week. It's "winter break".....not that they didn't just have a break a few weeks back or anything. And not that spring break isn't just right around the corner...but I digress.

Like I said, school is closed and, since it is wicked cold out there (at least cold enough to preclude extended forays, like the playground) we are INSIDE all the time. Ok, not all the time, but enough that Monkey needs to burn off some energy the old fashioned way - by pissing off the neighbors.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when, at 9:30am this morning, a polite young woman clearly still in her PJs knocked on our door to introduce herself and point out that, in case I didn't know this, they could hear every....single....footstep....on.....the....floor...........and................................... my child had been running for what seemed like hours.

Whoops. Nice to meet you. Sorry about the noise.

Oh, and by the way? Next time you start SHRIEKING and jumping up and down because The Bachelor show is, like, omigod, just so amazing? Remember I can hear you too. Snort - the Bachelor. She looked SOOO embarrassed to admit she watched it! Heh.

B.R.A.T.

B.R.A.T.

Nope, not talking about my kids. Although, WOW, Monkey threw a whopper of a tantrum last night. More about that later.

No, BRAT refers to the diet I am on....bananas, rice, apples and tea. I managed to catch the nastiest stomach flu I have ever had, ever. And BRAT is the diet the doctor recommended to combat the - ahem - symptoms. Yummy. But - huzzah!!!!!!! I successfully avoided going to the ER (negotiated with my doctor on that one...) And, even better - I didn't puke on Jellybean! And let me tell you, that was an accomplishment. Trust me on this one. It got bad enough that I was scared at my ability to care for Jellybean (I almost dropped her when I tried to stand up and couldn't) and made M come home from work. Never done that before. Hope I never have to do it again. Also hope to avoid a fever of 103 again....that sucked. And god did it feel good when I finally showered off the stink of fever-sweat.

But, huzzah! I didn't throw up on Jellybean while nursing! And so far, no one else is sick. I have my fingers crossed that they continue that way. I about jump out of my skin every time Jellybean spits up a bit....

And, I have to tell you, Monkey has been so damn sweet to me. The other night, when M was explaining to Monkey that I was sick, she gave me the most amazing sweet look and then.....offered me her blankie and favorite baby doll. I about cried from happiness...that was the most amazing gesture. She really thought it would make me better, since it makes her feel better. Who knew that an insane two year old could be empathetic? She amazes me.

The empathy isn't the only thing that amazes me. It also amazes (and pleases, to tell you the truth) that the ULTIMATE possible punishment we can mete out to Monkey is....removing her books! Yow. Who knew! (last night she threw herself on the floor screaming and kicking, you know, because I told her that her toothbrush has to stay in the bathroom and, well, it went downhill from there...stellar performance, worthy of an academy award, and by far the biggest tantrum she's thrown yet). Taking away her books was the straw that broke the camel's back.....got to say, I love that she loves her books that much!

And, finally, I just want to note how wonderful M has been to me. Have I mentioned how much I love him lately? Well, I should.

So much to say

Hmmmm, so apparently a week has blown by and I haven't posted a thing. Man, you'd think I was busy with a one month old or something, wouldn't you! heh.

So, Jellybean is officially a porker. Well, as much of a porker she can be, given that she was born at and continues to be in the 10-20% range of height and weight. But she has a double chin! And she's grown well over an inch! Enough to actually outgrow her very first outfit. And did I mention she's perfect? And no I AM NOT BIASED how dare you think that?

Last night Heather was over and doing a fantastic job of spoiling me (homemade manicotti for my birthday dinner) and an even more fantastic job of keeping Jellybean awake...and she was commenting on the double chin. What is is about babies that make their double chins so damn cute? Seriously! I mean, fast forward even 3 years and it no longer looks good! (and let me tell you, I see enough double chins on kids to make me sad.....Harlem has a serious epidemic of childhood (and adult) obesity. But I digress.)

Monkey continues to rock as a big sister. She adores Jellybean and only occasionally loses her shit when she can't sit in my lap at the PRECISE moment that I am nursing Jellybean. You know, because that is when she NEEDS mommy. Not when my lap and hands are free....naw, that would be too easy.

OK got to go. Jellybean's grunting and groaning and kvetching has escalated.

On being two....

So earlier today I mentioned that Monkey is two. With a cold. And teething.

Which........led to 25 minutes (I timed her) of a temper tantrum because I wouldn't give her the serving spoon at lunchtime.

She was eating peaches with her own spoon. But she wanted the serving spoon. Because CLEARLY it was superior to her spoon. I said no, she had a spoon already. And when she lost her sh*t I decided not to give into the tantrum. On principle, plus I thought she'd get over it.

25 loooooooooooooooooooooooooong minutes later she was still screaming and crying about the spoon. Thankfully I finally distracted her with a fork.

Piglet

So Monkey has recovered from the stomach flu. But now suffers from teething, a cold, and being two. Phew. Did I mention the being two part?

Meanwhile, Jellybean visited the pediatrician (again) to be visually inspected for jaundice and weighed. Her color looks good, and we're supposed to keep up the light exposure. And for the record, the pediatrician actually recommended that I nurse in front of the windows with the blinds up to expose her to as much sun as possible....so neighbors? I apologize for the gratuitous nudity....and yeah, these are my boobs, and um, well enjoy the sights!

Jellybean is putting on weight at a nice clip. She's now exceeded her birth weight and put on 10 ounces in the last four days. PIGLET! Yesterday she was eating with such gusto that M asked if she wanted some bbq sauce to go with it....it was funnier at the time than it sounds now. Trust me. Seriously. (Ok, so if you are sleep deprived it is hilarious!!!!)

Well, off to watch Wall*E for the 15,899,203rd time. Monkey got it for Christmas and it has saved my bacon (and sanity) quite a few times these past two days, while she's been sick and moping about the couch.

I'm back, dear readers

Can I tell you that I have two perfect daughters now? I feel just greedy! Like who gets to be this lucky????

(oh and I just woke up from a power nap and am sipping diet coke while nibbling on peppermint bark candy, so forgive me if this is scattered. Plus the percocet just kicked in, too.....SUGAR AND CAFFEINE AND DRUGS WOOHOO!!! heh )

On Friday December 12th at 9:45 am, Jellybean was born. She's perfect. Did I mention that yet? She's perfect. And, while Monkey named her Jellybean while I was pregnant, the name turned out to be somewhat prophetic, as her little sister is tiny! A whopping 6 lbs and 18 and 3/4 inches long. Monkey, on the other hand, was 7.1lbs and something ridiculous like 21 inches long - that kid was skinny and looooong. Jellybean is skinny and short. Plus, you know, the comparison to her flesh and blood 26 lbs sister makes her seem miniature, and all the more fragile!

Jellybean suffered from jaundice, and spent several days under the lights. It was harder on me to not be able to hold her than anything else. She's now passed followup tests with flying colors and will slowly lose the yellowish cast over the coming weeks. She never glowed yellow, if anything she just looked like she'd used some self-tanning lotion, so all thing being equal that was a a wonderfully simple complication. And yes, I know about the awful yellow tint from my own forays into self-tanning. And no, you can't see any photos.

I have decided that planned c-sections are SO much better than emergency c-sections. I was present and lucid during the birth, remember my time in the hospital, and generally feel awesome in comparison to last time. Now, don't get me wrong - the pain is still intense when the percocet wears off, but man this is a walk in the park compared to last time! Plus, and I know this will make my family and closest friends chuckle.....this time I am actually asking for help. And lo and behold!!!!!!!!!!!!! My beloved and saintly family members (M, grandma, 'andpa and Heather) have helped!!!! Amazing, this asking for help business. Shoulda done it earlier. (like maybe a few decades ago? but I digress...). Last time I was too stubborn to ask for help, convinced I could do it myself. This time? NO shame. NONE. And I'm healing much, much better.

Monkey is doing remarkably well in this dethroning process. Now, she's still throwing tantrums like an insane two-year old...but then again, she's an insane two year old.

Monkey is excited in principle about her sister, but in reality is somewhat indifferent to her presence. To wit: Day one at the hospital, when she met her sister, she was very excited to hold her for 10 seconds. We got photos and then she got her penguin. She was THRILLED about the penguin, and also wanted to continue eating her goldfish crackers (a new favorite treat). The penguin went home and the crackers stayed at the hospital. Day two, Monkey's first question upon arriving at my room was "where's Jellybean" while the second question was "where are my goldfish (crackers)?". Day three? She just asked for the goldfish. She cracks me up.

Jellybean calls. More later.

The four horses of the apocalypse

I could hear their hoofs drumming down the hallway last night. You know, between the hours of 2am and 4:30am when Monkey was WIDE AWAKE and throwing a tantrum instead of self-soothing and going back to bed.

Either that, or it was my pulse throbbing behind my eyeballs as I was simultaneously exasperated, sympathetic, generally pissed off AND exhausted. Sure sounded like horses to me....

Of course, true to form she woke up in a spectacular mood. Charming, cheerful, happy to see us, and a complete and utter pleasure to be around. She even begged for an extra goodbye kiss from her Daddy.


Shoot, just as I was planning on selling her to the gypsies....