A Whole New Level

After a weekend in which her babysitter (who had her all day Saturday and Sunday) said to me that Lindsay was awesome, easy and never whined or cried about anything, today was something else. After picking Lindsay up from daycare, she said she wanted a juicebox. I told her that she could have one when we got home.

And that's when all hell broke loose.

She literally lost her shit immediately after me saying "Sure, when we get home you can." I have never heard her scream so loud or high-pitched. I whipped my head around because I thought something had to have come through the door and attacked her or something.

But no, she was screaming a horror-movie quality scream while kicking her legs and pounding her fists. I honestly couldn't believe it was happening, let alone that she went from 0 to 60 in 3 seconds. I figured I had a good 10 years before I had to deal with this. Holy smokes.

It lasted for the next 90 seconds (a VERY LONG time when that noise is being made), at which time I decided I would take the time to stop at the gas station just so I could rest my ears for a couple minutes while the car filled. And wouldn't you know it, the second I got out and closed the door she stopped screaming. I guess even she couldn't keep up the fake drama of the 5-minute wait for a juice box.

I'm not sure if I won the battle or not, because she still got her juicebox about 20 minutes later.

She's no dummy

The other morning I was kneeling next to Lindsay and checked her diaper for poop. I asked, "Did you poop or was it just a toot?" To my delight, no poop.

Just then I may have farted. I'll deny it, but obviously there is a reason Lindsay did what she did next.

She walked behind me, pulled on my pajama pants, looked in my underwear and said, "Mommy poop?"

Another redneck moment...

If I've learned anything since becoming a parent, it's that you have to be flexible and at times, need to improvise. That lesson was never more prevalent than on Easter Sunday. Kevin and I had separate vehicles at dinner and he left a little earlier than Lindsay and I. Just before Kevin left, I changed Lindsay's diaper and put the bag back in Kevin's car. When he left, so did the diaper bag. And sure enough, Lindsay destroyed her diaper about 10 minutes later.

We were at my cousin Laura's house and being a kid-free environment, there weren't any diapers on the premises. We tried stuffing Lindsay's pants with paper towel, but that wasn't working so great. But then Laura came up with a genius idea.....a maxi-pad. Of course, that would never work for an extended period of time, but for a 45-minute trip home, it might suffice.

So we rigged it up:

Wouldn't you know it if it didn't work? We put in the maxi-pad, threw down some paper towel in her car seat just in case and hit the road. When we got home, no messes!

I can't say I'm surprised that it was another Pfeifer that was my partner in crime for this redneck-esque act, but I realized that redneck or not, improvisation can be added to my list of skills.

A face only a parent could love

We've spent the last 6 days basically quarantined inside our house with a sick child. And not just sick...vomiting and pooping kind of sick. After 2 days of it, our house smelled somewhere between a port-a-potty and the bucket next to hot-dog eating contest. Absolutely disgusting. Hope you enjoy that mental inhale. Thank goodness for the last couple of nice days so we could air this place out.

But now it seems we've turned the corner to just a cold. That is, if you can consider this just a cold:

In case you can't quite see it well enough, that is a layer of snot flowing out of her nose. That is what she looks like every single time I turn around it seems.

I do have to say that at least while we are home, it may be disgusting, but it isn't a pain in the butt. The other day I was driving her to daycare and she sneezed really hard. When I turn around, it's all over her face. Turn around 10 seconds later and she's wiping that stuff all over her face and into her mouth. Phenomenal. I honestly never thought I'd pull a car over for snot, but I couldn't have her eating the equivalent of a Playdoh container full of snot in one sitting. At least spread that out over a few days.

Even better is the paste that this stuff leaves on her face when she wakes up in the morning. I honestly feel like I need nail polish remover to get that stuff off. Lindsay cries and whines when I'm trying to clean it off and I can't say I blame her. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't enjoy a chisel and sandpaper to my face every morning.

So what I'm saying is, thank goodness spring is here. Because after the last few weeks of sickness, I'd been thinking about taking the best offer for her. Kevin's really had an eye on a projector television for the basement....and I can't deny it would be pretty sweet to watch full-size Kardashians on rerun.

Coming soon...

...to a blog near you. A blogger who updates her blog.

Sh*t My Daughter Says

Obviously the title is a total rip-off of the book I'm reading for bookclub, but it fits too perfectly. Lindsay has started "talking" constantly. She has a lot to say, but no one can understand any of it. And if I had to guess, I'd think she was constantly usingt the naughty version of the word "poop." Seriously, everything she says sounds like the word "sh*t."

Shut = sh*t.

Kip = sh*t.

Chair = sh*t.

Shoe = sh*t.

Lip = sh*t.

Chip = sh*t.

Stick = sh*t.

I could go on, but basically every one syllable word somehow comes out as the word sh*t. Greatly amusing to me. She's a 1 1/2-year-old sailor. I love trying to say what the babble is.

- If she's sitting in her highchair and talking, I'm certain she is saying, "I'm not going to eat that sh*t!"

- Changing her diaper..."Hurry up and get this sh*t out of my diaper."

- Looking out the window at all the snow..."I can't believe this sh*tty weather."

- Watching clips of Michelle Bachmann...."I can't believe the sh*t that comes out of her mouth!"

I doubt that is what she is saying, but just in case, her potty-mouthed mother better clean up the language from here on out.

Naked Gun(s) 1 1/2

For awhile, all Lindsay wanted to do was put more clothes on. She was constantly pulling on more layers of clothes by wearing onesies as pants or pants on her arms. Other than the fact that it was often the clothes I was trying to fold, it was a pretty cute habit.

In the last few weeks, that layering habit is no longer. Now it is a naked habit. She can't get her shirts off yet, but she is constantly pulling her pants down and even more often, completely removing her pajamas. This is what I walked into one morning when she woke up:

The pants coming off is really an interesting move. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to it. Kitchen? Pants come off. Watching cartoons? Pants come off. Picking up toys? Pants come off.

That is Lindsay on Christmas morning. She can't even keep her pants on for Jesus. Although, in her defense, tights are REALLY uncomfortable.

Now the pants is one thing, but the pajamas are a whole different ballgame. It's gotten to the point where we try not to put her pajamas on until right before bed because she'll just take them off and run around naked anyway. But the funniest thing is when she just unzips the front and walks around like some white-trash king. I feel like if we gave her a gold chain, she'd be pulling the look off perfectly. Check it out:

It's all fun and games for now, but I'm only giving it until preschool. She's not leaving the house if the tendencies continue at that point.