Husband is Eating my Ice cream.

I have banished him to the kitchen. 

You may wonder why this travesty of justice is allowed to take place.  It all started yesterday with a resolution.

I have made a resolution to stop being such a damn heifer.

My resolution is 4 part:

• I will bring healthier breakfast options than pop-tarts to work with me.

• I will begin bringing my lunch to work daily instead of getting fast food. (Yay for also saving money!  I am a thrifty non-heifer.)

• I will eat slower/ smaller portions at dinner and will stop getting seconds no matter how yummy my own cooking is.

• I will start using my "Biggest Loser" game for Kinect again even though Bob Harper's voice gets really annoying after a while.

I think my resolution is actually a good and livable plan.  It doesn't feel like a crazy scheme diet like I used to get into when I was 17 and really had no need to even think about dieting.  It's not really denying myself foods that I like.  It's just saying, "Hey Kimmie, you know what would be better than that chocolate chip cookie for a snack?  How 'bout that apple that you so thoughtfully tossed in your purse this morning?"  

And

"Hey Kim, you know what might be better than laying in your bed, watching Pawn Stars and looking up 'Potter Puppet Pals' on your laptop?  You could take your dog for a jog around the block!  He'd like that and maybe he'll stop chewing on your anniversary tree if you run him into exhaustion.  That tree really doesn't need to get any shorter."

So now, Husband is eating my ice cream.  I am trying not to be sad as he really is doing me and my resolution a favor.

Oh... There is one part of my resolution that I seem to be trying to block from my mind. 

I am once again giving up the sweet ambrosia of my life.  I will no longer drink ANY Dr. Pepper.

Things could get ugly.

I did this the first time when I got to college and was informed about the dreaded "Freshman 15."  I decided that it would all come down to moderation and choices.  If I wanted to consume one thing, well, that just means that I would have to give up something else to make up for it.  A good, solid, logical plan to maintain control over my weight during a tumultuous time.

I could either remain loyal to Dr. Pepper, or I could have liquor.

Once going cold turkey, I didn't have any Dr. Pepper until my pregnancy with Booger several years after graduating university.  You know, when I couldn't drink any more.

It's all been downhill from there from my addiction stand point.

We have outlawed the word "Sonic" in my house, as they have been my good friends and provider of Dr. Pepper at 1/2 price during happy hour with their awesome soft ice.

Oh well.  It's done.  No more!

I will be strong!

I am resolved.

Checking in to the Silent Lurkers.

I am informed I have a few stalkers.  YAY!

I am currently obsessing over Harry Potter.  Again.  It happens every time the new movie is set to come out and I totally end up geeking out over new random Marauder tidbits that I come across. 

Anything to feed my addiction.

We took a break from Harry Potter Mania to watch "The King's Speech" today because I fucking LOVE Collin Firth.

MWAHHH!

Mr. Darcy just gets more adorable in every movie that I see him.

In the mean time, I am getting royally pissed at a co-worker and am plotting her downfall in my head in ways that I most likely will not have the guts to go through with in the real world.

Such is life.

Ok, obsession time begins again.

HARRY POTTER!!!

Very Funny.

We have been trying to work with Booger on the phrase "May I" when asking questions.  It is proving difficult.

Today, she came home from daycare and was wanting a snack.

She comes running up saying, "Mommy!  Mommy!  I want some cookies."

I let her repeat herself a few times before correcting her, wanting to see if she would offer it herself.  She knows the phrase and has hollered at Squeaker to use it (although Squeaker is still in the babble stage).

"Mommy!  I want cookies."

Maybe a gentle nudge in the right direction was in order.

"How do you ask?" I prompted.

Booger pauses, turns, and runs to the other side of the room.

"Daddy!  Daddy!  I want some cookies!"

And that's when I started laughing.  I really can't fault her logic.

Drama Queen Kimmie is Dramatic

If any one encounters a really sweet and awesome hobo under a bridge somewhere, you should really buy her a taco.

I like tacos a lot, and that would make my little hobo life much happier.

I'll have to think of a clever sign to solicit maximum tacos. 

I'm pretty sure there is a large chance that this is my future, so it is good to be prepared.

I planted a tree today!

Let's see how it goes this time.

I am feeling fairly hopeful this time.  His name is Phillip.  I feel if I give him a name and a gender he will have  a greater will to live.

Phillip is a crape myrtle which are supposed to thrive in my harsh, Texas environment.  I think, when he blooms, that Phillip will have pale pink flowers.

Like so...

In fall of 2008, Husband and I planted another crape myrtle in the back yard.  We went to the garden center, found the biggest tree nerd in the state, studied his little to-do list, and followed every instruction to the letter.   Come winter, I was absolutely sure that it was dead.

I mourned.  This tree was a gift for our first anniversary and it was dead in the cold.  I had killed a symbol of my marriage in  a small, frosted corner of my back yard.

However, come spring, all hope was not lost!  There was tiny buds popping up along the lower sections of the trunks.    My marriage was not dead!  It was stubbornly clinging to life.  We even got a little bit of flowers in the spring from my poor, stubby, anniversary tree.

Then, winter passed  by again and the drama unfolded all over again.    It came back again, shorter than ever, but ALIVE!  I'm pretty sure that trees are supposed to get taller over time, but I'll settle for not dead yet.

So now Phillip joins our little back yard desert with hopes to make it into a charming, English-style garden.  Maybe then I'll get a gnome.

A hot one.

Maybe I need to use my name philosophy on stubby tree.  Maybe I need to give it a reason to live once more.

Maybe anniversary tree needs to be a Brian.

It Kicks Barney's Ass.

Living with a two-year old has made me an expert in children's television.  Now, I've always been a connoisseur of cartoons, but the sheer lameness of toddler friendly educational programming is a little daunting.

I want to beat whoever it was at the daycare that introduced my child to Barney.  I am so sick of that purple monstrosity and the frightening children who never feel any negative emotions as they sing random songs.  I spend most of my time at home deflecting away from on Preschool On Demand.

Blue's Clues is tolerable enough... in small doses.  But I always try and steer Booger to Sesame Street.

Ahh, Sesame Street.  I remember this from when I was a kid and I watched it for far longer than the other kids at school.  This is the only show I can really get behind for Booger.

It's funny.

It's educational.

It advocates kids actively learning and using imaginative play.

The characters actually show NEGATIVE emotions at times, which ALL HUMANS do!  They get mad and frustrated.  They get sad and lonely.  But as opposed to Barney, where the kids are never bothered by anything, the characters on Sesame Street experience these emotions, but show how to deal with them constructively.  It tells kids, "Hey, you're not going to be happy all the time.  Thing's aren't always going to be perfect, but you have to deal with it in the right way and things will work out."  I respect that.

Sesame Street is by far superior to any other child's show that I have yet experienced.  So now, I will share my favorite moments:

#5

Here Fishy Fishy Fishy - If I were a character on Sesame Street, I would so be Bert.  I feel for him so much.

#4

I Don't Want to Live on the Moon - Always have loved this song.

#3

Grover the Salesman :)

There are a lot of these and they are all hysterical.


#2

Sing -  Montage style, because I am a dork.

#1

What's the Name of that Song?  I sing this all the freaking time.

Yes. Yes, I am a nerd.

Had the day off today and my mental state is a continual playing of Bruno Mars' "The Lazy Song."

Now two of my favorite things in this world are mindless internet research and Harry Potter.

Today, I represented my love for the most  B.A.M.F. of M.W.P.P.  Mr. James Potter.

Now, the ageless question is who exactly would play the esteemed Mr. Potter if a film were made depicting the Marauders Era?

 He looks like Daniel Radcliffe.  (Shhh!)

Oh my good he's pretty!

Now in years past, Mr. Elijah Wood seemed to be the first round pic of Fantasy Marauders. With Daniel Radcliffe starring as the Lighting-Bolt-Kid, and Mr. Wood fresh from another epic movie series of our generation he seems the obvious choice.  That, and from Book 3 on, all we hear is how much Harry resembles his father (blah blah blah).  However, I just can't seem to get past his wide eyed hobbit face.

Elijah, however has been edged out in my opinion my one Mr. Julian Morris.  When you look further into the intricacies alluded of his character, James Potter was a lovable bad-ass.  He made himself infamous with the numerous detentions he received, helped to make the marauder's map, and still managed to land himself as Head Boy.  And his finest accomplishment, after a horrible showing in 5th year, I laughed the whole way through Snape's Worst Memory.  Fail at sympathy from me, Jo Ro. he still managed to convince Miss Lily Evans to 1) fall in love with him, and 2) bear his messy haired savior-of-the-world.  Julian wins because he can pull any ass hole stunt, be the biggest turd on the planet, and I would totally get why she had his baby.

 

Lily Evans Potter.  All the boys love me.

Now, James Potter was able to transform himself into a stag through a rare form of magic, for those who aren't as aware of the Harry Potter universe Mom , which is why Harry's Patronus also takes the form of a stag. I felt the need to determine exactly what kind of deer James changes into for his Animagus form, because my Fantasy Marauders Movie can be nothing but geographically accurate.  He can't just be the white-tail I usually think of because, loathe as I am to admit it, Hogwarts is not located in Texas.

There are six species of  deer living wild in Great Britain today, namely Red Deer, Roe Deer, Fallow Deer, Sika Deer, Muntjac, and the Chinese Water Deer. Of those, Red and Roe are native and have lived in the isles throughout the Holocene, Fallow has had to be reintroduced twice, by the Romans and the Normans, after it died out during the last ice age, and the other three are escaped or released alien species. Thank you Wikipedia!

We'll start from the end and work our way back.

Chinese Water Deer

As cool as this guy looks, his nickname was "Prongs" not "Fangs." NO!

 

Muntjac

NO!

Roe Deer

 Fail.

Sika Deer

Ahh!  We're starting to get a little warmer, but I'm not satisfied.  He doesn't seem majestic enough for my favorite Marauder. 

Fallow Deer

Getting Warmer!  I love this deer.  He's definitely more impressive looking that the Sika and those antlers are way cool, but he still doesn't win.  I feel he's just too cute.  Plus I have some experience caring for these deer and they are not very large, about the size of a large dog, and I can hardly picture then holding off an army of dementors. 

Red Deer (And he's mad!)

And finally, I present to you, James Potter's Animagus form.  He would be a red deer. I'm pretty sure I found the actual picture of him as a red deer and now he's pissed at me for saving him for last.  It's because your the best James! 

Thus concludes my mindless James Potter research.  RIP Prongs!  You lived.  You loved.  You got the girl.  You defied Voldemort three times and died in defense of your family.  

Mischief Managed

Awkward laughing is awkward.

Squeaker is laying in bed next to Husband.   Booger is jumping around like a monkey on speed.  It's only 8:30 in the morning on a Sunday. 

And I'm awake, why?

So I'm doing my best to ignore the unfolding chaos because GRRRRR, Mama's tired!  When Husband lets out a pained yell and I am compelled to abandon my feigned indifference.

Husband is holding onto his underarm.  Squeaker is facing him with hand extended.  Husband continues to whimper in pain.  The inference is clear.

It's really not funny.  Karma will get me for this.

Am not dying. Probably.

So after two days of hideous, stomach-torturing misery, I may no longer be in fear of death.

I tend to be dramatic when I'm sick.

I got a call from Booger's day care on Friday saying she was throwing up and had a fever.   Left work early and rescued my child, who really did feel quite miserable.

Fast forward to my own digestive pyrotechnics.

We were pretty damn sure that our store was going to be audited on Tuesday.  Passing an internal audit is crucial to my life and career.  Without a pass score, I can't get promoted, which means I can't EVER get another raise, which means the rising gas prices will turn me into a hobo under a bridge and I canNOT rock the grunge look.

Tuesday morning I was a wreck. Scrambling to think of loose ends I may have forgotten along with my coworkers, I pep talked the employees, and waited for our fates.  I told one of my fellow managers that I felt like I would vomit any moment from the nerves.

We did get audited (GASP!) and we PASSED!!!!

But the vomit feeling did not go away.  In fact it got about 20 times worse over the course of the night.

I was sure I was going to die.  Miserably and without dignity.

I still managed to go into work the next day for the first part of my shift, because inventory is coming up and my whole life depends on this.  I had two of my best people working with me that day, which is a great thing, because the longer I was up, the more useless I became.

I managed to struggle through my paperwork and left early and collapsed into bed.

I've spent the last 72 hours with little to nothing in my stomach and an on-again, off-again fever. 

Worst thing, in celebration of our passing audit score, I went home to bake cupcakes, and then got too sick to eat them.

The cupcakes thwart me. I so freaking want a cupcake!  They're awesome and cute and delectable.

I wish I was 2 again.

I brought home a small bundle of balloons today.

Booger is now standing on a red toy bucket, no pants, playing with the balloons, and singing her ABCs.

She is the most amazingly happy child in the world right now.

Squeaker is watching her and you can just see her little mind thinking "My sister is the coolest thing ever."

I am jealous and laughing all at once.

Screw You, Royal Wedding!

It is the national holiday of my house!  It is Kimmie-Day!  Today we celebrate the day that I joined the world. 

That deserves a bank holiday at least.  It's way cooler than this so called "Cinderella" story.  I mean really?  Just how much of a commoner can Catherine Middleton be when her parents were rich enough to send her to the same private schools as the freaking prince of England?

Whatever.

My mom, on these occasions, likes to remind me of my coming into life.  Apparently I was an impatient little jerk.  All doped up with her epidural, and happily watching the Friday episode of General Hospital, which I am told is the "cliffhanger" episode, Mama is content with her pregnancy for the moment and is not in a rush to have it end right at that very second.

Five minutes until the end of this gloriously dramatic broadcast masterpiece, I decide that soap operas suck and no longer want to be subjected to them, even via womb. An opinion I still hold. 

My mother, therefore missed the ending of her cliffhanger episode, but gained a daughter.  She says she was ecstatically happy, but she hasn't stopped griping at me about it for 28 years.  I begin to doubt her sincerity.

Well, leading up to the anniversary of my birth, the universe decided to allow me to build up a little credit.

At some point early in the week, I realized I had misplaced my purse and wallet, which also contained a $100 bill from my in-laws and a $50 gift card.  I spazzed out for three days, turning my house, car, and work place up-side down and coming closer and closer to the conclusion that it may have been stolen.

FINALLY,  yesterday night, after once again tearing the house to pieces, Husband looks at me and says "Babe, I don't think it's here."  And I'm about to cry.

Then, as if a joke.  "Unless.... What if?"

And he starts picking up some work stuff he had set in the hall way.  And what is under this stuff?

YAY!

Fast forward to the greatest day of the year.  Another early day and I'm feeling particularly unmotivated, because once again, the damn soda machine is out of Dr. Pepper.

So, just about everyone in the store knows of my little obsession.  It is my dark passenger.  There was a long period of time (well over a week) in which the soda company did not refill the machine.  I was pretty sure that I was going to die and instructed Husband to pursue legal action against them for my untimely end.

Upon my discovery of my once again sad and empty life with no Dr. Pepper, I may have been heard by my lead all the way across the store.  He laughed at me. 

Seriously?  I am being denied my elixir of life and he's laughing.  He has to be the most ungrateful little turd in the history of the world.

After we finish up, he says he's going to take a quick break. 

Yeah, sure, whatever.

When he comes back, he comes in the office and says he got me a birthday present.

He truly is the best employee ever and I don't know what I would do at work without him.  The boy needs a raise.  And a pony.

PS.

The universe seems to have decided that it gave me too much credit.  A case of Dr. Pepper is just too much good fortune for one day.  I have managed to ruin two batched of cupcakes that I have successfully made in the past.

I fail.

Oh! Look at the shiny!

This has been me for the past few days.  It's starting to get pretty bad.

I generally work 10 hour shifts, and when I'm focused and productive, they really do seem to go by pretty fast.  I'm on my feet and solving problems all day, so it's mentally and physically rewarding.  Lately, however, I've just been a walking, yawning, whining, lump of lazy.

If I weren't me, I'd punch me in the face.

For this ignoble fall into lethargy, I blame my phone.  It is responsible for me checking Facebook fifty times while I'm supposed to be planning and organizing for an overnight.  The phone is the reason why I can't get motivated and tackle my list of to-dos.

And of course, because my phone has access to YouTube, the world will clearly end if I don't show everyone at work videos I find hilarious.  

On the other hand, I did come up with a plan of what I'm going to play for people the next time someone calls in sick.

And of course, the simple fact that the current is an insane internet sensation makes for fun all it's own.  Forget about Rebecca Black.  I have been watching a better one all day.

I really need to get my act back together.

Booger's New Teacher

We like our daycare.  It's a cute little building near the local HEB run by really sweet people and is pretty inexpensive.

Whenever we pick up the kids, it seems like all the teacher's know our daughters' names.  Especially so for Booger. 

Because she's loud, and has been there since she was 6-weeks old, and has a tendency to take off her clothes in public.

She's also just a bit of a bully and perhaps she's on the bossy side.  She also hogs the toys and climbs up on all the furniture. It is not unusual for us to get an incident report saying that she got in an argument with another child when she took a toy away from him, and then hit/bit by the retaliating child (and the other way around).   Nor is it unusual to get one saying that she fell and bumped her head when she climbed on top of the table and started jumping and singing.

At snack time, she always finishes all of her cookies before any of the other kids have half of their first one down, and then demands more.

Yeah, all the teachers know my Booger.  It is really cute when she is leaving and hollering at the top of her lungs, "Bye Bye!   Bye Bye everybody!  Have a good weekend!" 

It's really funny when it's a Monday.  Damn, my child is awesome!

We love our daycare, and recently, it seems that they have added a new teacher.  For the last few days, this teacher has been in charge of Booger's class.  Husband is generally in charge of dropping off and picking up the girls, so I have not yet had the encounter her, but for working in a daycare, she doesn't seem to like little kids.

I surmise from speaking with husband that she is something like this:

Twice this week, Husband has brought home dirty clothes in a plastic bag.  Not strange in that our two-year old is potty training.  However, this is the first time that a teacher has sent home the dirty clothes with a large amount of poop in them! 

Ridiculous and disgusting!!!


Here!  Let me reenact a scenario Husband described.

Booger:  DADDY! (comes running up and flailing arms)

Ms. Jerky-Pants: Stay off the tile!  It's wet.

Husband (in gentler voice): Get back on the carpet, Sweetie.  The tile's wet.

Ms. Jerky-Pants: Yeah, the tiles wet.  She peed on it.

Husband: Um... she's two.

Today, Husband brought her home with a full dental impression on her arm.  When he asked about it in the office, they said there had not been an incident report turned in.  He went to ask the teacher, who in formed him that she  instigated it by taking toys away. 

Again, no report? it looks like a screenshot from CSI!

This is getting very uncool, very quickly. 

Here, now look at Grissom!

The only reason I watched that show

Watching "Tangled" Again.

Because it's a fantastic Disney movie.  As much as I miss good 2-D animated movies, "The Princess and the Frog" does not come close to this.

The male lead in this one just makes me laugh, but probably not for the reasons the animators intended (Although I laugh for all those reasons too.  Seriously, nothing but love for this film.)

A short on the Disney channel said when designing the character, they wanted to make him very popular with the ladies in looks alone. So they went around getting ideas from all the female employees.

Pictures say it best.

That's right!  Give the boy a light saber!  The hottest man that could possibly be imagined is still Harrison Ford.  Flynn Rider is Han Solo.

Husband's Phone Destroyed Society

Booger is about 28 months old right now, and one of her favorite words is "mine."


When you stop through the kitchen and grab a snack from the jar, she comes running in shouting, "My cookie!"


You're sitting on the couch, relaxing, and watching some TV. You reach for a glass to take a drink of water and hear, "My water!"


Squeaker is playing in the bumbo and her random hand flailing leads to her touching the stuffed lamb,"No!  That's mine!  My Lovie!"


So our cell phone plan is up for renewal/upgrade and has been for about two months.  The last time this happened, my glorious Mommy blessed me with the greatest of gifts that is the beautiful piece of technology that brought my dark and dreary life out from the shadows and into the sun.

 And there was much rejoicing

Yes, I carried in my pocket more technology than NASA used to put a man on the moon.

Now this phone has been very good to me for the past two years.  Has entertained me on jogs with music, has distracted me from work with App Games, and has let me play on the internet while stopped at red lights.  I got it when they still offered unlimited internet, and have kept that data plan ever since, pleased with my being grandfathered in to being able to screw the system if I so chose.

Now because there was only one data plan available at this time, Husband instead chose to replace his phone with something more modest and without an internet option.  You wouldn't really know because he kept stealing mine any time we were out together. 

After a long two years, my phone is still great.  I invested in the Invisible Shield, so my screen is still perfect.  I have one speaker that is a little wonky, but I usually use headphones to listen to music, so it's livable.  And I've kept up with updates, so I'm pretty pleased with how it operates.  Husband's phone looks like shit is not as nice as mine.

Over the radio, I keep hearing adds from AT&T saying you can get the IPhone 3GS, which is the same model I have,  for $50 with a renewal or new contract.  We also take a good hard look at my internet usage and see that I can step down to a smaller plan for about half the cost and most likely not notice it.  Sweet right?

Husband gets a new phone.  We both have internet.  We spend about the same per month.  And all this is the low cost of only $50.  Everybody wins right?

So we go to the AT&T store, and the trouble starts almost immediately.  Husband walks in and makes a joke about going and watching basketball on the TV that is playing on the far side of the store.  Booger starts running crazy around the store.  So I am responsible for updating Husband's phone by myself and still end up wrangling Booger from her destructive tendencies. 

Then Phone Guy starts showing me the new phone.  It is the same phone as mine, but different.

It has a video camera.

It has voice recognition.

You can change the background screen instead of just the welcome/lock screen.

And I morphed from a reasonable, adult, mother of two into this:

My Preciousssss!

About this time, Husband has disappeared from the small sales floor, and Phone Guy asks if I want to download my information on the new phone and Husband's on my phone.  The serpent had offered the apple.  I instantly start thinking of all the arguing points as to why this is a wonderful idea.  But when Husband returns, I later learned that he made an emergency trip to the potty with Booger to avoid further humiliation, he is not as impressed with this idea as I am.

I have no defense for the way I felt/acted after this point.  I admit fully that I was being quite unreasonable with my frustration.  But quite frankly, I did not give a fuck.

I WANTED THE VIDEO CAMERA! 

I mean seriously.  I've had my phone for 2 years and it's still almost perfect!  I've done everything I'm supposed to!  And you're too good for my phone?!  

Again, logic does not prevail with blind hatrid and Gollum-like mentalities. 

I then proceeded to be in a pissy-ass mood for the rest of the evening.  I had become my 2-year old.

Schwans Man Saves the Day

Happy April Fools!  The universe plays one hell of a joke.

I began the day at 3:00am, which sadly is not unusual.   Met my coworker and walked in to work, and was surprised that I could not clock in right away.  No big, used an over-ride, clocked in, and began to run some reports.

And then I looked at the schedule.  I wasn't supposed to be in for another five freaking hours!  I could still be sleeping!  (There may have been some growling involved at this point.)

It may have looked something like this.

Fast forward to when I actually was scheduled to work:

 

Somehow, during the time when I went back to sleep, the servers for all the computer systems at work decided to say a big FU to the world in general.  This kept the registers from being able to process any debit transactions at all, and credit cards worked every now and then.  Much to the dismay of customers, we frequently had to resort to the old manual imprint of credit cards.

 

One very grumpy old man got very short about it.  Like we were purposefully resorting to stone age methods just to mess with him.  You caught us!  April Fools!

We also have the surveys that print out on the receipts.  Lots of places have these, and if you're not aware, I'm going to let you in on a secret.  They often have you rate your experience on some preset scale.  Ours is from 1-5.  THIS IS A LIE!

The truth is, it does not matter how you rate your experience, unless you give a perfect 5.  Everything else is a big fat 0.  It's a yes-or-no question with 4 nos to 1 yes.

Only problem is, these surveys pretty much rule my professional life.  If the store doesn't  make our preset goals, I can kiss any chance of bonus, promotion, or peaceful cohabitation in the world goodbye.  So unable to do anything involving a computer for the whole of my work day, I dedicated myself solely to customer service, tried to let everyone know about our register troubles as they entered so they could plan for alternate payment options in advance, or else just be prepared for a longer wait for their credit transactions, but a part of me still died inside every time I saw one of those little surveys print out.

Eventually, I managed to be able to throw myself into my car and head for home, and was faced with the ever daunting question of "What are we going to do for dinner?"

 

Husband is usually unhelpful with this question, but as Booger was being her usually destructive self and Squeaker was not yet sure if she was hungry or not, I'll have to forgive that.  

But Huzzah!  Just as I'm about to turn right into our subdivision, who is making a left-hand turn from the opposite direction?  Who ends up right in front of me on his lovely route to deliciousness?  

Schwans Man!!!

 

 

I now have two sleeping babies, a full belly, and Harry Potter on my television.  

I'm good.

Squeaker's Not Happy

When my oldest, Booger,  used to go in to the doctor's for her routine check ups and vaccines, she used to scream bloody murder from the moment the shot was administered until we fed her something.and she passed out.  Nothing else would calm her down.   I really worried at the time that she was either a) in horrible pain and I was the worst mother ever, or b) my daughter was a total wimp.

 (note) random child is not related to me...

This fear has resolved itself as she routinely throws herself off of things and then laughs.  Oh yeah, she's shaping up to be a tough, fearless little dare-devil.

Today was Squeaker's doctor appointment.  Poor kid got stuck twice in her right leg, and once in her left.  She also got that little squirt bottle in the mouth as soon as she started crying. 

Now, this kid is tough, way more so that Booger was at the same age.  Once I picked her up and cuddled her a bit it went form the horrible crying to little whimpers, but she has been incredibly clingy ever since.

Take a nap?  No!
Play on the rug with toys?  NO!
Bounce in her jumper?  HELL NO!
Have Mommy cart her around everywhere?  Yep.  That's cool.

On another note, my living room once again resembles a junk yard.  Booger decided there was absolutely no reason for all the neatness and organization.  She dumped out all her giant legos and is now sitting in the bucket watching cartoons.

Squeaker is starting to get a little fever.  It's to be expected, but that also usually means a long night.