Curious and Curiouser

Maggie is a typical little girl. She loves dolls. She loves to play with dolls. She loves to push dolls around in a stroller, pat them on the back, cradle them, kiss them, tell them they are cute. She's an attentive mommy to say the least. So that is why I am confused that her favorite "baby" is this guy:



Yes, it's a monkey. And yes it really is her favorite baby. She carries him around on her hip, cooing to him and singing to him. She even tries to put diapers on him. When she hands him off to Daddy for some male bonding time and daddy "accidentally" drops him, she brings C. George to me to kiss his bonked head. She reads him stories, feeds him plastic pizza and tucks him into bed at night. And it's not because Maggie has a lack of dolls. She has lots of dolls- dolls from grandmas, dolls from mommy, dolls from aunts and uncles. Cute dolls with pink dresses and long eyelashes and ringlets. And she does play with those dolls, but they don't hold the place in her heart that Curious George does.



So here we are, monkey baby and all. And then today I made a startling realization. I know why Maggie loves this monkey baby so much... it is her Cash equivalent:

Dear Maggie

I recently got the idea from reading someone else's blog page to write periodic letters to Maggie that she will one day hopefully be able to read and appreciate. Ben suggested that I write a letter on her birthdays and half birthdays, but at this stage in her life, she is changing so much that she's almost like a new person each and every month. I've decided to try and write her a letter every three months, so as not to drive myself crazy with a monthly update, but write often enough to hopefully capture some of her toddlerhood on paper lest we forget it. I just wrote one for her 21 month mark and Ben suggested that I post it (I don't flatter myself by thinking anyone else other than Maggie will be interested, but here it is anyhow, hope it at least makes you smile).

-Kathryn


Dear Maggie:

You are now 21 months old, just three months shy of your second birthday. People keep telling me to brace myself for the terrible twos, but I am hoping and praying that we’ve already been through all that; that you experienced them prematurely. You can already be so exasperating, but luckily you are also very cute. Exasperatingly cute.

Today I was trying to put away a huge pile of laundry that I had folded. Your little brother started crying in the other room and while I was gone to get him, you decided to play in the mountain of folded clothes, flinging shirts and underwear all over my bedroom floor. I could hear you gleefully announcing with your little lisp that the room was now messy. This isn’t something new to you, unraveling my day’s work faster than I can keep up. I often find you unloading the dirty dishes from the dishwasher, smearing peanut butter and jelly all over the tabletop, or going through the garbage, distraught that I would sweep up and throw away a Honey Nut Cheerio that had fallen on the floor. Your curious little mind is always two steps ahead of me, looking for something new to try or explore. I’m always straining to hear what you’re doing in the next room while I clean up your latest mess. And I have to be quick to intervene when necessary, like when your explorations involve you, a box of Q-tips and Cash’s left nostril.

Sometimes I feel guilty for having another baby so soon. You were only 19 months old when Cash was born, and I feel like maybe we robbed a bit of babyhood from you. That we forced you to become a big sister too soon. But you love Cash and when he’s within your reach you’re always kissing him and cradling the top of his head in your hand. Sometimes in your excitement to be near him, you forget our reminders to be soft and gentle and I can see the tips of your fingers turn white with pressure against his skull. Like you’re trying to make Cash really feel your love. You also love to point out to daddy and me what Cash is doing throughout the day. A baby play-by-play if you will. It doesn’t matter how obvious it is, you will tell us almost every time when Cash is cwying or eepin’ (sleeping) or if he just tooted. Mama? What? Mama? What? MAMA!!! What??? And then you whisper “Cass eepin’”!

Cass is how you pronounce Cash. This is one of the many words that you have created your own pronunciation for. Daddy especially likes to listen to your particular take on the English language and I often hear you reciting sentences at daddy’s prompting where you haltingly declare that you would love a spanking or that you’re a nerd. You also are quickly picking up on phrases that are commonly heard in our household like Oh my Gosh which in “Maglish” sounds like Oh myee Goss! It’s cute, but we’re quickly learning to filter anything and everything we say in front of you. You’re a little sponge, eager to hear, learn, and repeat everything that goes on in front of you.

While I’ve been writing this, you got up from your nap and are now curled up on my lap while you wake up the rest of the way. You look at me and whisper Mom. I ask you what, but you don’t say anything, just put your little hand on my cheek and smile. It’s moments like these that I love you more than anything and terrible twos or not I’m so glad I’m your mommy. Now if only I could teach you how to fold clothes.

--Mom

genetics revisited...

a couple of posts ago i was showing how maggie and cash share the same feet as their dad... today i was looking through pictures of maggie when she was cash's age and although some people in my family say that these two kids look alike, i can't see it.

here is maggie at approximately 2 months of age:


here is cash at about the same age:


they look pretty different from each other, no?

Groucho

When Ben and I moved to Jackson Hole, we had to get rid of our cat, Groucho. The cat that Ben "hated" and "never wanted". The other day he saw this picture and said, "I miss Groucho". The world must be coming to an end.

Also, I totally miss Baby Maggie.

p.s. Today my mom told me that my childhood cat died yesterday. Even though he was probably one of the most annoying pets in the world (you're second on the list Otis) I was really sad and even miss him. It's crazy how pets can gain such huge affections from people. Maybe it's because they know how to love unconditionally, or it could be that pet dander has addictive qualities. Whatever the reason, I really miss having a pet.

Ben, Valentine's day is coming and I want a St. Bernard.

Designer Genes...

My children have their daddy's feet and the following pictures will show you why this isn't a good thing. Unique feet may be cute on babies and toddlers, but Maggie will never want to wear open toed shoes to the prom... On the positive side, Ben cannot in any way, shape or form wonder whether or not these are his children. (I would have posted a picture of Ben's foot to show the genetic link, but he refused to let me, even after I offered to paint his toes so they would look pretty.)

Here is Maggie's foot with her little uneven toes. Also notice her red "pretty toe".

Here's Cash's little foot- the poor guy.


And lest you leave my blog today disgusted by their strange feet, here are some pictures of their adorable faces.

Numero 4

O.K. This seriously had better be the last time I have to post pictures of our "new place" for a LONG, LONG time!
Here is where we eat dinner. Also where Maggie likes to dance.

Our lovely Family/TV room. Check out Ben's handiwork on the TV shelf... maybe he's finally found his true calling in life?


My room (aka the room I probably spend most of my time in):


Here's Maggie's Bedroom. Notice that she has upgraded to a toddler bed! (thanks again, grandma kristi and grandpa rick) She LOVES her bed. Several times during the day she goes in to take quick "naps" on it- this involves her climbing under the covers closing her eyes for 3 seconds, "waking up" and saying good morning, and then telling me to go in and make her bed. All so she can repeat the process in about half and hour.


Ben and Cash's sleeping room. Kat's "why won't my husband stop snoring, my baby stop nursing, my toddler stop crying for me so that I can get some gosh dang sleep?" room.

And last, but not least, our Office/Guest room. Why have a guest room you might ask? Beats me because I don't think anyone would ever make the trek into No Man's land to visit Ben and I. But if any of you ever find yourself lost in this wilderness, feel free to drop in.