Indentured servancy

One of the main reasons Kevin and I decided to have children is for the free labor. Who doesn't want someone to do all that housework? Obviously, it takes a few years for them to be old enough to do the work, but certainly it would be worth the wait. Well, in a sure sign that Lindsay is gifted, she's already helping out around the house.

Scrubbing the kitchen floor:

Getting ready to fix a small toilet back-up:

And, I guess this is dusting?

At 1 1/2, some gifted kids play the piano, some read and some speak 3 languages. Ours? Well, she's well on her way to being the best damn housekeeping toddler a parent could ask for. Although based on that last example, she just may have farther to go than I'd like to admit.

Teenager in a one-year-old body

Each passing day brings a more independent and slightly more, um, let's say "sassy" Lindsay. There is no doubt when something isn't right in her world....she'll let us know. Aside from the vocal notifications, she has started to pick up some very teenager-like mannerisms.

For instance, she loves the car. Not riding in it. She wants to drive. Whenever she is outside when we get home, she insists on testing out the driver's seat.

We are going to have to watch the keys closely, I think.

She is also totally into lounging around the living room....often with an annoyed look on her face when we break out the camera. I believe this is the "Really? We are doing this again?" look.

The day that clinched it for me was when I walked into the living to see her texting. Granted, it is just an old phone we let her play with, but it certainly seems she has the hang of it. 10,000 texts and minutes a month, here we come.

If she starts growing up any faster, I fully expect Kevin to lock her in her room until she's 30. So if you don't see her for awhile, you should know the first place to look.

Don't tell me it's raining

Lindsay has a peeing problem. Nothing medical or serious…she just pees A LOT at night. A few weeks ago Kevin and I woke up to a puddle of pee between our heads one night when she was sleeping with us (yes, we know….her sleeping in our bed is a whole other issue for another day). She had literally peed so much between 9pm and 5am that it had soaked through her diaper, through her pajamas and was being soaked up by our sheets and mattress. Disgusting with a capital ‘D’.

Then it was brought to our attention that they make night-time diapers that are extra-absorbent. And boy are they. I’m convinced these things could hold a gallon of water. So…problem solved.

Wrong.

Yesterday morning she was extra crabby when she woke up, so I sat down with her to cuddle for a bit before doing anything else.

Bad idea.

About 2 minutes into our cuddling session, I suddenly feel as if I’m peeing my pants. There was literally a stream of liquid running down my lap and down my leg. After about 5 seconds, I realize what is likely happening and I lift Lindsay up to see a stream of pee coming through her pajamas and onto my lap. Not wanting to let her pee to stream across the living room and into her room, I’m forced to basically let her finish before moving her. I’m certain the blanket I pulled over the top of my lap and my pajama pants won’t ever be the same.

This kid seriously doesn’t care if her diaper is full of pee or poop. And now, even brimming to the brink of the dam breaking, she has no problem sitting in that mess. I fear for her later in life.

At least I can take solace in that it wasn't poop coming out of the diaper. That is a lot more difficult to clean up than pee and certainly something I don't want to deal with before my morning coffee.

Fashionista

I am staging an intervention. Since the robe and baseball hat day, things have become worse.

Last weekend it was PJ bottoms and no shirt....I hope the urge to not wear a shirt stops by the time she reaches kindergarten.

And the next day it was wearing her life jacket around the house.

I fear we are one step away from her wearing raw food around. I guess we've been listening to a little too much Lady Gaga. Time to turn on the Taylor Swift instead.

White trash party...

I know the saying is, "you can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can't take the trailer park out of the girl", but I never figured it would pass to the next generation. Sure, I'll always have those white trash tendencies, but my daughter?

Well, guess what, folks.....it has happened. This is what happens when I let Lindsay pick out her clothes.

She's definitely a Pfeifer. I almost gave her a cigarette to carry in her hand and sent her out to pick up my newspaper. Thought that might shock the neighbors too much though.

Who loves fantasy football?

Lindsay does...that's for sure.

Shortly after our fantasy football draft started, Kevin got called into the hospital and I was left alone to parent AND draft two fantasy football teams. I can hardly find time to go to the bathroom during a fantasy football draft, let alone fit in drafting another team and shoot a glance at my child every now and again.

Good thing Lindsay realizes the importance of my fantasy football team on my fall/winter mood and played quietly....or so I thought. This is her somewhere around Round 7 of the 15 round draft.

Exhibit 1 in her case against us when she's a teenager. But hopefully by then she'll realize how important it was for me to be able to draft Matthew Stafford as a potential keeper in the later rounds.

Mr. Hankey's home

Our little gal is now walking. And it is totally awesome, but it brings a host of problems with it. First and foremost, she is basically a ninja. Turn your head and she's gone....and made no sound leaving. When she was crawling, her hands would make a noise as she put them on the floor. No more, folks.

Case in point.

A few mornings ago, Lindsay and I were sleeping in bed (our bed, not hers). I was awake and decided to get up and leave her there. I turned on the monitor and in my best dork impression, hooked it to my pants like those folks that hook their cell phones to their belts. I put some laundry in the washer, did the dishes and made some coffee. While waiting for the coffee to finish, I go to the bathroom to find Lindsay in there. Total ninja move because the monitor didn't go off at all!

Now if that were conclusion to the story, I wouldn't have told it. Any guesses as to what she was doing in the bathroom?

If you guessed unrolling the toilet paper roll, you'd be partially right.

If you guessed taking that toilet paper and dunking it in the toilet water, you'd again be partially right.

If you guessed taking that toilet paper out of the toilet and sucking the water out of it, well, then you'd have hit the nail on the head.

That's right. Our cute little girl likes drinking toilet water as much as our dog, Kip. Only in our house. At least it had been cleaned the day before, I guess.

And if you are wondering why there is no photographic proof, well, I guess she found one of my boundaries of where I stop the action before taking a picture.