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Sunshine.

I cannot resist that face. Even when it has me sleeping only 2 hours a night.

Annoyance.

She’s spent most of today on the couch, snuggled up with her blanket and baby.

While I know she feels miserable, I cannot get over how sweet she is.

Our broken record.

My daughter is particular.

One might also use “obsessive.”

Or “anal.”

Or “she’s-three-door-knob-taps-away-from-an-OCD-diagnoses.”

But I like “particular” as it strikes me as a fairly neutral term. One that won’t be repeated in therapy 15 years from now when Sunny describes all the ways in which I have “damaged” her.

I have no problem with her referencing the fact that I rarely, if ever, wear pants in the house. The jumbo-sized feet she’s inherited from me and their impact on her shoe collection are also open to psycho-analysis. But I want to be very careful about what language and descriptors I apply to my kid.

Wack-a-doo. Monkey-pants. Bug.

Those I’m okay with.

But just this week I learned that referring to one’s child as “shy” can create a self-fulfilling prophecy that leads to continued shyness. People may find it hard to believe that I have produced a less than socially outgoing child, but if you’ve met James, you’d understand.

I don’t want Addison to ever feel badly about her “isms,” as my mother would call them. They are clearly a part of who she is, and I love who she is, so why use language that might connote something negative or shameful?

But I do want to talk about them, because they sure do provide a great deal of entertainment for me and James.

As a parent, it is a fascinating thing to watch your child develop personality traits and quirks that you yourself have not demonstrated or taught to said child. It is a miraculous and humbling thing to realize that you have very little control over the innate personality of your offspring. Sure, you can teach manners and social graces, social skills that will help guide that personality, but ultimately your kid is gonna be, who your kid is gonna be.

So when Addison repeatedly demands to “wipey one” (which means to have her right index finger wiped by my hand or James’ as those she is having her finger pulled), we oblige. When she requests this action multiple times in a row, we sigh and get to wiping.

I know James is just itching to teach her to say “Pull my finger” instead of “Wipey one” so the kid can at least get some jokes out of this compulsion.

When she screams and pulls out her pigtails or braids instantly upon styling, shouting “NO HAIR BAND! OUT OUT!” we put away the bows and barrettes and call it a day, soothing our Lady Macbeth.

She sorts and organizes her Goldfish and then eats them by color. Leaving aside orange. Because honestly, who would eat orange Goldfish?

She will not eat broken chips or crackers or cookies. She distraughtly passes them our way, bemoaning, “Ohhhhh noooooo, broken. Messy.”

She does not like mess. Of any kind. When the dogs’ water bowl spills. Or she dribbles milk on the carpet.

And let’s not talk about the number of times she demands that her hands be washed over the course of one meal.

One of the most exhausting albeit adorable new quirks is her constant repetition of phrases. Things like “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy…” or “Good night, Mommy. Good night, Mommy. Good night, Mommy…” said over and over and over again. James and I will interject and respond hoping that this will put an end to her ramblings, but she has the stamina of the Energizer Bunny. She fluctuates between happy, neutral, distraught, sad, upbeat, and so on, experiencing an impressive spectrum of emotion in each cycle.

We have a living, breathing broken record in our home.

I managed to capture tonight’s orations on my phone. And remember, it’s because she’s just very “particular” about conveying her message.

Sunshine.

She’s got some new moves.

We’re calling this the “Bob and Weave.” It’s going to be bigger than The Dougie. Just you wait.

Inspiration.

A friend shared this on Facebook today and I had to repost it.

Annoyance.

While showering with James yesterday evening, Sunny suddenly took an interest in his nether regions. She looked quizzically at his penis, pointed, and proclaimed, “Daddy’s peanut!”

Doesn’t every man dream of having a female reference his manhood in such fashion?

Note: I cannot believe I just referred to male genitalia as “manhood.” I did throw up a little in my mouth if that redeems me at all.

Hey, at least she’s demonstrating an understanding that she and mommy have different parts than daddy. We have po-pos and he has a peanut.

See? Perfectly clear.

Now if only she’d stop grabbing both my and James’ chests and proudly boasting, “Mommy boob!” or “Daddy boob!”

We’ve so much to learn.

Because people were getting busy in October…

… today we get to celebrate the birth of Auntie Kimmy and Geraldine.

Sunny is one lucky lady to have these two gals in her life.

One will teach her to dance ballet and sip tea all while wearing 4th grade sk8ter boi apparel, and the other will teach her how to properly wield a sewing machine and bake the yummiest chocolate cake around.

Cushion Cover

First and foremost, HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIMMY! I hope it is filled with lots of warm, salty breezes and time out on the ocean, two of your most favorite things. Oh, and cake WITHOUT the frosting. Because I know how you roll. In fact, let’s just make it a strawberry shortcake, preceded by a slab of steak.

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Today’s DIY is a total cop out as I had ZERO to do with its creation besides selecting and purchasing the fabric. I know that I haven’t shared much of the Kids Room Redesign as, quite honestly, that project has been on hold as we made our way through wedding, graduation, and reunion season. Now that that time is behind us, expect more progress on this front!

I had purchased this adorable umbrella fabric nearly two months ago and then promptly handed it off to a far more talented and savvy seamstress than myself; a dear friend who offered to teach me how to sew a cushion cover for the love seat that I had put in the room. The love seat is a family piece that will eventually be Kimmy’s (when she has a home with room for it), so I didn’t want to invest in reupholstering something that was ultimately not mine. Plus, a cushion cover is easy to launder when little ones drool and smear dirty hands and do other unsavory things to the fabric.

After weeks of being stuck with a cushion and pile of fabric in her home, Geraldine took the project upon herself and surprised us with its completion upon our return home from a wedding in western PA. After a 1,000 mile round trip journey, this couldn’t have been a more welcome surprise. It’s positively adorable. And I swear one day I’ll actually sit down and have Geraldine teach me some basic skills with a sewing machine.

For now, I’ll just be grateful to have talented friends in my midst that so graciously take care of such projects on my behalf.

Thanks, Geraldine!

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER

Best of all, it’s perfect for bed time stories and snuggling and will easily accommodate an additional family member in a mere six weeks!

Thought.

This place has been photographed a babillion times.

I almost considered leaving the camera in the car.

But I wouldn’t be a proper tourist if I didn’t pull out the lens at least once. All I needed was my fanny pack.

Sunshine.

Playing on the farm. Picking strawberries and snap peas. And eating most of our efforts as we walk.

In our Ralph Lauren bathing suit and sear sucker shorts.

And what?