We were getting ready to go to Dan’s grandma’s house for an afternoon visit. Maggie asked, “Will the boy be there?”
“The boy?” I asked.
“The boy. David? Who lives downstairs?”
She was referring to Dan’s uncle Dave, in his 40s, who has Down Syndrome. He lives in his own apartment, but nearly every time we’re at Dan’s grandma’s house for a party with the family, Dave comes over and pretty much holes up in the basement watching sports (football and basketball are his favorites!) He emerges for beer and food, tells a couple of jokes, reports the score of whatever he’s watching, then goes back down to his lair.
We all thought it was funny that Maggie thinks he lives downstairs. Observant.
—
After having a bathroom accident, or doing something she shouldn’t: “It’s just a mistake. That’s how we learn!”
—
Last week for Dan’s birthday, I told Maggie we should ask Daddy what kind of cake he wanted us to make him (we ended up not making anything, he’s not a big cake or dessert guy) When I suggested we make him a cake, Maggie said, “But Aunt Michelle can make it!”
My sister has made Maggie some awesome cakes for her birthday, so apparently she’s got a reputation. She’s the Cake Lady, whether she likes it or not!
—
After getting into her pajamas before bed, we were ready to read books.
“HOLD ON!” she said and walked over toward her dresser. She pretended to open a drawer, get something out, wrap it around her body and snap it behind her back. Then she turned around and grinned like a goofball.
SHE WAS FAKE-PUTTING-ON-A-BRA, YOU GUYS.
—
We put her to bed one night and kept hearing noise upstairs. Dan went to investigate after a while, and she was in the baby’s room, sitting on the glider, rocking her baby doll. In the dark.
—
Last Friday after I picked her up from school and we ate dinner, she announced she was going to go play in her sprinkler. Two problems: there was only about an hour of daylight left and it wasn’t very hot out anymore. (Additional problem: SHE’S NOT IN CHARGE.) (RIGHT???!) After a dramatic scene where we said no, she cried, we said maybe tomorrow, blah blah blah, it was forgotten and we ended up spending the night hanging out with our neighbors, watching a movie in their driveway with popcorn and projector on their garage. Very nice night.
The next morning (AT 8:30AM, HOLLA!), she crept into our room. I heard her coming and opened my eyes just a bit.
She was wearing her bathing suit.
When she saw that I was awake, she announced, “I’M GOING IN MY SPRINKLER!”
And she did, after breakfast. For like 5 minutes until she was done with it and moved onto something else.
—
Tonight we ate dinner at the Olive Garden. Maggie always gets the ‘cheesey noodles’ (fettucini alfredo) and her favorite part of the whole meal is the chocolate candy you get with the check. For whatever reason, she decided she didn’t want any of her noodles tonight (she had a little bit of a breadstick, a few bites of salad, and about a gallon of milk to drink) I told her that was fine, but she wasn’t getting any chocolate when it came- I’d put it in my purse and she could have it another day. She barely acknowledged that I said anything, just kept coloring on her placemat.
We packed up her noodles in a to-go box. The check came, along with three pieces of chocolate. Suddenly she says, panicked, “I WANT MY NOODLES!”
She ate a pile of them and got her chocolate.
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A friend of mine on Facebook recently posted this question:
“If you ask kindergartners who is a good singer, or good at anything, every hand in the class goes up. Why do we devalue ourselves so much when we grow up? C’mon–what are you good at?”
HOW TRUE IS THAT. It reminded me of another article that Torrie linked to a while back about something called ‘Imposter Syndrome‘ It’s not an official disorder or anything, but basically it’s the phenomenon (particularly among overachievers, which, oh HELLO THERE!) where we are in complete denial of our gifts and skills- too wrapped up in hoping nobody finds us out as IMPOSTERS, so filled with self-doubt that it often clouds our ability to do our jobs well, even if we are truly talented and good at them.
And just a couple of weeks ago, Casey posted about her winning photos at the Indiana State Fair. She is an amazingly talented photographer, and that’s not just my opinion- I mean, she won AWARDS! But still, as she wrote on her blog, there is doubt in her mind as to if she really deserves the credit. And it can take some of the joy out of doing what we love, you know?
It seems we all do this, myself included. But why? Why do we insist on being humble (either genuinely or as an act- which, I’m willing to bet most people aren’t just acting, we really DO have trouble accepting praise for our talents and skills)? And how do we lose that from childhood? How do we go from being unashamed to dance around the room like a complete goofball in front of strangers saying “LOOK MAMA! LOOK AT ME! I’M A GOOD DANCER!” even though we maybe look like we’re having a seizure to hiding in the corner at a party, afraid of making one awkward move (in a room full of, let’s face it, about 30 OTHER people making many awkward moves on the dance floor!)
I say we embrace our skills. Whether it’s dancing or singing or cooking or cleaning or being really, really good at plucking eyebrows. So the question: What are you good at? SEVEN THINGS. (Why seven? Because that’s how many I came up with quickly and it’s my blog so I make the rules!) Toot your own horn! Post it on your blog if you want! Then come back here and leave a comment with a link to your post.
It’s time we all start celebrating our talents, however minor and silly they may seem.
THINGS I ROCK AT (besides ending a phrase or sentence with a preposition. HOLLA!)
1. I’m a good cook (also a good eater… does that count? ha) I mean, I’m not making gourmet dishes over here, but I do pretty well. Dan’s not starving, is what I’m saying. And I get more brave and independent in the kitchen every day. This week? I might even make up my OWN RECIPE.
2. I am very very good at managing (and saving) our money. I do all the banking and bill paying. Though I do clue Dan in now and then for what we have in savings, checking, major bills that popped up, etc.
3. I am good at being a mom. Even though my three-year-old sometimes acts like I’m trying to make her life SO. MISERABLE., I know that I’m doing a good job.
4. I can sing! Not like, super-star level or anything, but I can sing on key very well and my voice is decent. I sang the National Anthem a few times in high school and college for sporting events. (Ask me about the time I got SHOCKED- like 4 or 5 times!- by the microphone on my MOUTH while standing on the ice, singing at a hockey game. AND I JUST KEPT GOING.)
5. I’m great at keeping up with emails. I see horror stories on Twitter from people with literally HUNDREDS of unopened messages and I start to sweat just thinking about it. It comes mostly from my tendency to get a bit twitchy if I have something hanging over my head. And really, I get a lot of email (at least I think so- during a normal weekday, I get anywhere from probably 30 to 100 emails between work, friends, and my blog. Is that a lot? It seems like it is.) I keep my inbox as a ‘To Do’ list and that helps. If something needs a response and I can do it in less than 5 minutes, I try to do it immediately. If it will take some time on my part, I star it and come back later when I have time to focus on it (but not TOO much later!) If it doesn’t require a response or action on my part, it gets labeled and archived- boom! Done. If I have more than 10 ‘needs attention!’ emails in my inbox at any given time… I’ve been slacking, yo.
6. I have a very good sense of direction. I’m typically The Navigator when we go somewhere new, and I’ve only misdirected us a few times (and honestly, IT WAS THE STUPID SIGN THAT WAS WRONG, MAN. NOT ME.) Also: I love maps. Not a skill really, but a related tidbit.
7. I am an excellent speller. (I may have typos all over the place, but trust me- it wasn’t because I didn’t KNOW how to spell it, I SWEAR! Stupid keyboard.)
Okay, your turn!
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The room is nearly, officially, almost done. Done enough for pictures at least :)
The furniture is all re-used from Maggie’s room- the crib and both dressers. We weren’t able to fit a glider in her room at our old house, so that’s a new purchase- SO EXCITED to have one this time! We didn’t really need one in our old house- basically 1-floor living, so I would just take her to the couch for nighttime feedings. But now the bedrooms are upstairs and heck if I’m dragging a baby down a flight of steps at 3am! So after she’s out of the bassinet in our room, this will be lovely.
I just love the bedding. It wasn’t my first choice (original plan was sold out EVERYWHERE!) but I’m so happy with it. It’s girly without screaming PINK! LOOK! PINK! and it’s not cartoon-y either. Perfect. We just have to rig that turtle music toy up on the top rail like we did for Maggie, and we’re good to go.
(And yes, I use bumper pads. SOMEONE CALL CYS! QUICK!)
Lots of stinky diapers will be changed here.
Big props to Dan for putting the closet system in all by himself! While I was off getting a massage! What a guy!
A ridiculous problem: our kids’ bedrooms are HUUUUGE. Now that Maggie is older, it’s a good thing- lots of room for toys and books. But for a baby? What the heck do I PUT in the room? That wooden shelf thing across from the dresser is completely empty! It’s weird because we had the opposite problem when Maggie was a baby. SUPER TINY ROOM. It feels so wonderfully open now.
Just a few last things to do in the room: a rug, a lamp, and some wall decor. Oh- and some letters for her name above her crib after she’s born.
So! Now what? I’m thinking NAP.
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I had fun with this You Capture assignment- mostly because at any given moment, I can look around my house and there is just STUFF EVERYWHERE. Welcome to life with a 3 year old!
it’s getting old, but it’s hanging in there

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Today is Dan’s 31st birthday. We had plans to meet after work for dinner at the restaurant of his choice. Of course, there was a major snafu in the plans when Dan had to work a little later than normal and a tanker truck spilled some kind of substance on the highway, leading to house and business evacuations and major traffic issues… so I would have been waiting with a 3-year-old at the restaurant for over an hour, waiting for him. Both of us hungry and tired. Not a good idea.
So instead, Maggie and I went to Moe’s for some quesadillas and chips while he made his way home, and we brought a quesadilla for the birthday boy.
Then we stuck a candle in it and sang happy birthday.
(He doesn’t really like cake or sweets- WEIRDO- so this worked just fine.)
Happy birthday, Husband Of Mine. Welcome to the Other Side Of Thirty!
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We were pretty spoiled with Maggie when she was just starting to toddle about the house. (toddle? that’s a word, right? the verb form of toddler?)
Anyway.
She’s always been a curious kid, but she’s also been cautious and careful (one of her first words: “CEEEAH-FOO!”) And she listened to us pretty well when we said NO DON’T TOUCH THAT (which… WHAT HAPPENED TO THOSE LISTENING SKILLS, KID?) Because of this, when it came to baby-proofing, we got off easy. Outlet covers, some things to hide the cords on the baseboards, a baby gate or two, a lock on the tv cabinet because THAT was the one thing she loved to do- spread DVDs and video games all around the house- that was about it. I have a big bag full of kitchen cabinet locks I’ve never had to use, because she simply wasn’t interested in the cabinets or drawers. Part of it had to do with the layout of our old house- I could see the kitchen from wherever I was, or at least hear her if she went in there (small first floor, FTW!) so she didn’t have much time to get into any mischief. And we gave her a drawer of her own, which I think helped- she knew she was allowed in that one to play with my towels and tupperware, so she didn’t bother with the rest of them.
And now that she’s older, she just knows not to go into stuff. (Except for my nail polish, which is now on a very very high shelf. ahem.)
(Side note: I realize that by saying all of this to world, she’s either going to get into something really nasty tomorrow, or this baby girl in my belly is going to be a hell-raiser. GAH.)
So imagine my embarrassment when I had to purchase a pack of these today. Stove knob covers.
And would you like to know WHY?
MY PREGNANT BELLY KEEPS TURNING ON OUR GAS STOVE.
Several times over the past week or so, I’ve been putting something in or getting something out of the (over-the-range) microwave and a few moments later I smell gas and hear a slight whooshing sound. The first time it happened, I seriously had no idea what the sound was, and it took probably a full minute for me to realize I was FILLING MY HOUSE WITH GAS FROM THE STOVE. The knob was turned just enough to let the gas escape, but not enough for the *click-click-click* of the ignition thingie to kick on. The other times the ignition clicked and I noticed right away, but still- what if it caught me ON FIRE??
A few times when we’ve been gone from the house, I have a moment of panic, thinking What if I didn’t notice that I bumped the knob and I forgot to check and OMG what if the house is filling with gas right now and it’s going to explode??!??!!!? Does our homeowners’ insurance cover explosions caused by out-of-control pregnant bodies??
We have a three year old in the house, but we don’t need stove safety gear for her. We need it for my STOMACH. Which has apparently grown to such proportions that it is unsafe for me to be in my kitchen.
If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get some ice cream to drown my humiliation. Thankfully, that doesn’t require being near the stove.
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