The Importance of Vowels

Thatcher pUnched Chad for not wearing green today. Oh well. Maybe next year he'll get that you pInch people who don't wear green on St. Patrick's Day.

Letter #4 to My Daughter

Dear Hadley,

Daddy's hairbrush does not need chap stick.

Thanks,
Your Mom

Happy Anniversary, Baby!

Thatcher: "Mommy, I got you a present for your anniversary."
Danielle: "Really? Thank you, Thatcher. What is it?"
Thatcher: "A Kiss."

That's almost as good as the anniversary present Chad gave me last year...the one that came nine months later.

Yet Another Letter to My Daughter

Dear Hadley,

You don't know how to change King Rocky's diaper, so please don't even try.

Thanks,
Your Mom

(Another) Letter to my Daughter

Dear Hadley,

The toilet is not a trashcan.

Also, please don't beg me for a haircut and then scream your head off when we walk in the salon to get one.

Thanks,
Your Mom

Thatcherism

Danielle: "Thatcher, you look so old!"
Thatcher: "No, I don't. I look handsome."

Yellow Snowmen

It is tax season, which means Chad is rarely home...which means that every day is a weekday for the rest of the family. It's the "chicken nuggets for dinner" season of our lives; a time when the TV is on a little more than usual; a time when the nighttime bath becomes a little more infrequent; a time when we just try to make it until daddy is home again.

Of course, this is the time that Hadley chooses to potty train HERSELF! Personally, I think she is too young for this. Hadley, on the other hand, is determined and routinely takes off her diaper and goes in the potty. It is quite hysterical to hear her saying, "It's comin', mom, it's comin!" when she goes. We gave training pants a (not so) dry run on Friday and Saturday with limited success. She happily will "go potty" and beg to "go potty more," but the multiple accidents tell me her body isn't quite there yet. At least, I don't think it is...and I'm the one who has to clean up the pee pee pants...the one who is prisoner in her own home until Hadley masters this task. Therefore, in diapers she will stay...at least until tax season is over.

Not to be outdone, Harrison is also making waves in the bathroom department. As I was feeding him yesterday, I felt a massive explosion in his pants not one, but four times. The force of said explosion was so great that I could actually feel his diaper move. I stopped feeding him and gingerly removed the thick, fleece, snowman sleeper he was wearing. The entire back was covered in what my father lovingly refers to as "baby sh*t yellow." The snowmen were yellow as was the bedspread on which I had placed Harrison to change him. It had actually seeped through the FLEECE sleeper and into the bedspread. As I was cleaning him up, he proceeded to pee all over my brand new pants and the clean sheets that were on the bed (under the poop-soaked bedspread). Harrison and I were drenched in pee, poop is on everything in sight, so naturally, Hadley chose that moment to let me know she needed to "pee pee in the potty." Of course.

Once upon a time, I dealt primarily with top secret documents, war plans, foreign heads of state. Now, the tools of my trade are pee, poop, and breast milk. Oh, how far I've come.

Hadley Turns Two

Hadley's second birthday coincided with the biggest snowstorm DC has seen in more than 100 years. We actually broke the 54-inch snowfall record set back in 1899. Fitting given how much this girl loves drama.

With four feet of snow on the ground, it quickly became clear that I was going to have to scrap the bakery-bought princess cake I had ordered for "P(r)incess Wadwee." Ever the helper, she decided to pitch in and help bake her own cake.

Of course, this created something of a "mess;" and if there is one thing Hadley can't stand, it's a mess. She headed to the bathroom to clean herself up. Apparently, there was no towel in the bathroom, so she improvised with toilet paper (take a close look inside the toilet).

Did I mention it was Super Bowl Sunday? Did I mention the four feet of snow...that was also covering our satellite dish? Clearly, Chad could not let that stand. Here he is after cleaning off the satellite.

By noon, the birthday girl passed out watching "Tinkbell."

That afternoon, she was ready for presents. One sticker on the vacuum Gran and Papa gave her was a little off. It really stressed her out.

Then, it was time for cake...and candles. Big mistake. Even after we removed the candles, she wanted none of it. There would be no singing, no blowing out the candles, no birthday wishes. None of it!

Terrible twos, bring it on.