Big mistake--HUGE.

We were at Target the other day and I decided to stroll through the toy section to get ideas for Mabes' upcoming birthday. In the past, Mabes has been content to look at toys, so "getting ideas" for birthdays and Christmas was fun and easy. This time, however, as we started down the doll aisle with the dolls that make the creepy cooing, squawking, and chirping as you walk by, Mabes saw a doll accessory box she decided she needed. Right then. I calmly explained to her that no, she didn't need it, while silently deciding that it was so cute that she did need it, but not for another few weeks.

I tried the usual diversionary tactics and started to head to the cleaning section, when Mabes decided to throw a fit. "I need that doll seat! Put it in the cart, mommy! I NEEEEEEEED it NOOOOOOWWWWWW!" I should have let her scream. I should have taken her out of the store. But for some reason, instead, I decided to tell her that her birthday was coming up soon and maybe someone would get it for her for her birthday. As I'm saying this, the intelligent side of my brain is screaming "No no no, stop talking idiot!" while the idiot side, which I thought had been in charge up to this point, was just laughing and saying "Um, yeah, I'm not even dumb enough to think this is a good idea." (Yes, I have many voices in my head. But that's not today's issue.)

It worked though, and Mabes quickly quieted down, her eyes huge, and said, "My birthday? My birthday! My birthday's coming! Let's get some cake and candles and balloons! Yay!" I tried to explain that it was still weeks away when she said that she needed the doll toys for her birthday. Remembering that Aunt Nancy had already sent birthday money for Mabes, I told her that maybe Aunt Nancy would get that for her. If she's a good girl. Phew. Problem solved.

We got home and she was still talking about her birthday, so yesterday afternoon, we made one of the paper chain things you made in 1st grade to count down to Christmas. I tried to explain the concept that each link symbolized one day, and that it wouldn't be her birthday until we had ripped off one piece of paper each morning. I don't know that she got it, but it distracted her enough. Until later when I was checking a recipe online and Mabes came over and matter-of-factly asked, "Mommy, are you emailing Aunt Nancy? To tell her about the doll seat for my birthday? I think she wants to get it for me."

So I guess I know what Aunt Nancy is going to get her, but we're still deciding what we'll get her. You'll notice a poll on the right, and any input would be appreciated. She was having fun on a neighbor's tricycle yesterday, though she can't quite figure out pedaling. I figure that's something she needs to practice. The neighbor also said that they got the tricycle for their daughter's third birthday, and now she's almost 4 and close to outgrowing it. So should we get her a small bike with training wheels? Or a Big Wheel? Target has them and I'm tempted just for nostalgia's sake. Thoughts?

Really, really ridiculously good-looking

Mabes has decided that instead of smiling for pictures, she'll make a "frowny face." Only I call it "Blue Steel."

I believe this one is "Magnum."

Happy birthday, Aunt Ber-Rae!

New rule when you come to visit: When you're here, it's your birthday. Okay, that might be a stretch. But because Becca came to visit a week after her birthday, and Amber-Rae came a few days before, we've gone ahead and thrown them a party. And by party, I mean pizza and cake. What more do you need? So if anyone else wants to visit, plan a trip near your birthday and we'll make you a cake and you can blow out candles. And Mabes will sing to you all.day.long.

Amber-Rae had just gotten back from a week in Italy and Greece and stayed with us for a couple of nights before heading back home. When I told Mabes it was her birthday, she decided that she needed to wake Aunt Ber-Rae up with a rousing rendition of the happy birthday song. Despite the jet lag, the birthday wake up was appreciated.

We made Amber-Rae help with the cake, because we're mean like that. I don't know why Mabes is making that face, but she's making it in all the cake-making pictures. But I'm posting it because Amber-Rae looks cute, and I guess this picture conveys Mabes' excitement level.


But we then let her have the beaters, as is the birthday custom. She was nice enough to share with Mabes, and Mabes thought it was glorious.

Note the new Greece t-shirt from Amber-Rae.

I realize this isn't the most flattering picture of her, but I think it's hilarious. For that reason. I'm sure my parents have a least a couple pictures of me making this face, and my dad has, on many occasions, made this face to demonstrate the faces I'd pull to make him laugh. And now I get why he laughed:


In honor of the birthday girl, we got her favorite pizza, Hawaiian. Mabes thought this was the greatest--ham AND pineapple on pizza? GENIUS! She was very excited. She then quickly turned her attention to the cake sitting on the counter, begging us to light the candles so they could blow them out.

She can't take her eyes off the candles:

We did it! That was a lot of candles...
I like birthdays.

It's a komodo dragon!

Dave turned on the National Geographic Channel as I was running Mabes' bathwater and it was a documentary on komodo dragons. Thanks to a previous Chick-Fil-A kids meal prize, the Kooky Critters puzzle (the one that I was so happy they didn't opt to call Kooky Kritters, because I would have thrown it back at them), Mabes is quite familiar with the komodo dragon. Well, enough to recognize the giant lizard and immediately be intrigued, which was pretty surprising considering that those few minutes before bathtime are run-around-naked-time. (Just for her.)

She happily sat and watched the komodo dragons run around, tear apart animal carcasses, hatch eggs--even watched an older one curl up and die. "Oh, he's tired, Mommy! He's sweeping! He close his eyes and go to sweep!" Once it was over, she ran to the bath and run-around-naked-time was completely forgotten. I haven't heard that many references to the komodo dragon since The Freshman, but the little piece of the documentary we saw was really interesting. I wouldn't mind seeing the whole thing. Or maybe I'll just watch The Freshman again.

Hey, is that a bandwagon?

Well, I guess I may as well reluctantly jump on. First a blog, now this--I'm annoying myself. I'm succumbing to peer pressure (or sister pressure) and getting a Facebook account, so if you have one, expect me to harass you until you accept me as your friend. Laura has assured me that Facebook is much more dignified than MySpace, so I won't need to post debaucherous pictures of myself to fit in. Phew...

And did you know that Home Depot has a kids craft workshop on the first Saturday of the month? From what I can tell, it's every Home Depot and it's awesome. Last Saturday, Dave told Mabes that he was going to take her somewhere fun. Her eyes lit up and she turned to me and whispered, "Mommy, Daddy's going to take me...SOMEWHERE! Just us!" She must have told me to stay home at least three times, that it was just her and Daddy that were going somewhere. "You stay here, Mommy, and I go with Daddy..." So Dave took her out and I was able to spend 2 glorious hours cleaning and preparing for the arrival of his mom and sister. I know, the only thing that sounds more absurd than using a free 2 hours to clean is ALLISON using 2 free hours to clean. But when you have to vacuum around the two-year-old dancing with her vacuum ("I helping, Mommy!") or explain that Mommy's cleaning, not playing with bubbles in the bathtub, 2 quiet hours of cleaning is absolute bliss.

Mabes came home from her morning out with Daddy with her new birdhouse:
According to Home Depot's website, the kid crafts are designed for ages 5-12, but Dave said that she had no problem paying attention and building the house, though she needed a lot of help with the hammering.

And much to Mabes' delight, we'll be going to Chick-Fil-A a lot this month. The kid's meal prize 1 of 4 books by Doreen Cronin. We had checked out Click Clack Moo: Cows That Type from the library and love it. I mean, any book that teaches kids words like "ultimatum" and "neutral party" is great, and this is just hilarious. I think Dave and I were more entertained by it than Mabes, but once we got the smaller paperback version from Chick-Fil-A, suddenly it became Mabes' favorite book. I'm hoping next time we get Duck for President.

Happy 4th of July!

We headed to South Carolina for a 4th of July cookout yesterday. We had heard that fireworks are legal there, so we figured it would be more fun than just bumming around here. When I talked to Mindy (the friend hosting it), she said that we'd eat and then let the kids do sparklers, and that there would be some fireworks in the neighborhood we could watch. There were several other families invited (including Hen(g)ry's, much to Mabes' delight), and dinner was great and the kids had a blast.
As it got darker, we headed out front for sparklers, and noticed the occasional firework getting shot up. This was a whole new concept to me--back in the day, Fremont allowed firecrackers, and we had a blast with sparklers, piccolo petes, that spinning rose thing, etc. This is what I had been expecting. But in South Carolina, everything is legal. It's insane. From where we were, we could see 4 other displays in the neighborhood. And then a few of the men in our group pulled out their fireworks, and we got to watch some pretty cool fireworks right above our heads, along with some other crazy things they did in the street.
Mabes was thrilled. She had refused to nap earlier, despite my best effort to explain that if she took a good nap, she'd be well-rested and more able to enjoy the fireworks. Silly, Allison, when will you realize that your logic is lost on a two-year-old? Nonetheless, she was in a great mood and loved the fireworks. We had tried to explain it beforehand, but decided it would be best for her to see it for herself.
She ooohed and aaaahed (while Hen(g)ry covered his ears) and clapped and asked us if we saw the fireworks.



She was a little nervous about the closer ones, but was still intrigued.


As they were finishing the fireworks, she was ready to go home and kept talking about how she just wanted to get in her bed. But she had a blast and excitedly talked about it this morning, telling us how the fireworks went up in the sky and then "boom," demonstrating the explosion with her arms flailing.
So we've decided that Jeff--and maybe Dad and Doov--should book their tickets now for next 4th of July. I mean, given the time and money that Dad puts in to lighting up the house at Christmas, I'm sure he would have no problem spending $450 on 240 fireworks (again, these are the giant fireworks you see in real fireworks shows), and Jeff would have a ball setting them off.

You were warned

Remember my rant about the stupid milk here?

Looks like the crazy jugs will soon be sweeping the nation. You've been warned, and you might want to go out and get a few funnels to make pouring easier.

And I keep thinking I need to post more hilarious stories about Mabes. But we've been dealing with crazy mood swings ranging from whining/crying during the walk home from the pool ("Holdge me, mommy, holdge me! I'm scared!" I still don't know of what.), moaning during time out "I want to be happy!" (Okay, then stop crying!), and lots of hugging and cuddling (narrated, of course), so I feel like we don't have much hilarity right now.

We did get to venture next door yesterday to meet a new family that moved into our ward. Mabes was having a great time until she had the first accident she's had in weeks. And it was bad. Fortunately, I didn't realize the extent of it until we got home (she didn't soil the neighbors' apartment--phew!), and my heavens. I won't go into detail--I'll save that for a family dinner or something--but let's just say that when a child who has never been constipated due to having perhaps "looser"-than-usual stools has an accident, it's not pretty. I have a new "grossest poop ever" story. Dave has assured me that since the neighbors have four kids, they've probably experienced poop issues before, and they'll remember the dozen fresh chocolate chip cookies we took over more than the fact that Mabes is literally a party pooper. I'm still embarrassed, though.

And since I don't want to end with a poop story, here's my first attempt at braids. I need to work on it, and it will be a long time before I attempt French braids.