You Missed

Chickie is already good at displacing blame. Take for instance this recent game of catch...

Ana throws ball to Daddy and misses terribly.

Good try, Ana!

Daddy throws ball to Ana who keeps her arms at sides like long, dead fish. Ball pegs her in the head as she does nothing to protect herself.

You missed, Daddy! Ooooh, you missed!

Sure he did, Ana. Sure he did.

Registered at the Disney Store

Ana's proclivity towards all things girlie continues to amaze me. I was madly in love with Scott but couldn't even mention the word marriage without getting all kinds of nervous. I didn't think about what my wedding would be like until I actually had a ring on my finger. Ana on the other hand has it all planned out at 3 1/2 and even declared her beau this morning.

Luckily I approve. My future son-in-law's name is Leo and he is the adorable son of a new friend I've made here in Austin.

I'm going to marry Leo - he's my very best favorite! And I'm going to wear a dress, and have flowers, and shoes, and a neck-uh-lace, and a whale (veil). And what will you say?

I'll say, I'm so happy for you, Baby! Congratulations!

No. You will say I'm jealous of your whale. I want that whale.

I think she has had enough of watching Cinderella and her wicked stepmother.

Waking Up

Conversation with Daddy this morning:

Get up, Daddy!

I'm trying to wake up, Baby, just give me a minute.

Kids go fast. Mommies and daddies go slooooooooow.

3 years old and she already has our number!

Friends

Apparently the seclusion is working (most days). On the occasional chance that we run into a living breathing human child, Ana has been pretty friendly. Pulling her out of preschool and all other fundom has definitely reduced her stress level and she is able to call on those extra reserves to remember her manners.

The truly sad thing is that she now refers to her little tiny plastic princess dolls as her friends. As in:

Can my friends come with me in the car?
Do you want to play with me and my friends?
Careful! Don't step on my friends!!

Poor child. However, I do like that if I don't approve of one of her friends, it is an option to step on them.

Procrastination Part Dos

Okay, so it appears that not only I procrastinate, but Ana does too. She usually takes care of "business" around mid-day, but yesterday she pushed on past that mark leaving us unsure.

Conversation with Daddy who was in bed with her because of last night's scary thunderstorm:

Daddy? I have to go poo-poo.
Are you sure, Ana? I don't think you need to.
Yes! I do!
Well, if I put you on the potty and nothing comes out, I'm going to be upset because it's sleep time.

Fast forward 15 minutes...

Ana, you didn't need to go potty, did you?
Yes! I did, but my poo-poo is just too tired. It's just too sleepy to come out. Maybe later.

Methinks her procrastination is more about stalling, but in this case better safe than very, very, very sorry.

Procrastination

With the recent shuttling back and forth between houses, unpacking boxes, and meeting with delivery people, I have been falling behind on my posting notes. This morning finds me scrambling to remember something funny, rather than what time Sears will be showing up at my house (between 9:45-11:45). Asking Ana for help was not the brightest idea I've ever had:

Honey, what's something funny that you've said? I'm writing a story about you and I need to remember something funny that you've said lately.

Poopie!

So, there you have it...

Oh My...

Apparently there is some confusion around the concept of the afterlife in our household. Dear Ana seems to be confusing her grandfather's death (before she knew him) with the unfortunate beheading of a Joseph and Jesus statue that we used to have (long story, reference many earlier posts).

Ana to Nana: Papa is in Heaven.

Nana: Yes, he is sweetheart. He is looking down at you and watching over you.

Ana: No he's not! He don't have he's head in Heaven!

Oh my...

Sleeping Beauty

Mommy: Hi, Sleepyhead! You slept a long time! I thought you were never going to wake up!

Ana: I know. I thought I was dead.

Book Burning

I hate books. I hate them with a passion. This is because my little lady is a most literal chick. Our latest issue is with a book entitled Little Bunny's Easter Surprise.

Little Bunny's parents give her an Easter basket. No biggie there, already planned.

Little Bunny's little brother hid a bunny rabbit and jelly beans under Little Bunny's pillow. Oh, Honey, that was just something that the little brother does. That's not something that really happens on Easter.

Yes it does! Yes I will have a bunny and jelly beans under my pillow! That's what's to do! Yum! Yum!

Sigh... add to list one stuffed bunny rabbit and some jelly beans.

The next night's bedtime, another issue - "Daddy and Mommy look at Little Bunny with sparkly eyes" (when they hand out the Easter baskets). Daddy, Mommy, will you have sparkly eyes for me?

Oh, Honey, Mommy will have bleary eyes because it will be seven in the morning.

No! You will have sparkly eyes!

Sigh...add to list some Visine.

Is That Funny?

Dear Ana has a twisted sense of humor. Her latest trick is to do something that she knows we find supremely irritating. She then likes to ask:

Is that funny, Daddy? Is that funny, Daddy?

(weary voice) No, Ana. That's not funny.

It's funny, Daddy. Yeah, it's funny. Oh yeah, it's funny.

Anatomy Lesson

Poor little Ana was traumatized this morning. A cd that I bought her to help with anxiety - it's like a meditation cd for kids - sang, "Let your heart burst open with love."

Once again we have engineer Papa Bear to thank for this one. He used a flashlight to show Ana that you could see the blood in her finger, which led to a discussion of there being blood in our bodies, which our heart pumps throughout.

You can see where this might be going...

No! That's not what's to do! No! I don't want all of my blood to come out! Why do they want me to burst out my blood?!?

Meditative my arse.

Jokester

Ana learned a joke while I was away.

Daddy: Ana, how do you make a tissue dance?

Ana: Put a little boogie in it!

Ba-dum-bum.

Memories

The day has finally come. Today is moving day. The packers came yesterday and the movers are here today to take the furniture and boxes out of our Pittsburgh house and make the long drive to bring them to Texas.

Evidence that my child lived in this house:

1. Collection of 60 or so dusty Cheerios found under the buffet
2. Several pieces of my jewelry hidden under her bed - little toot!
3. Various parts of her tea party set found under the couch - along with a sizeable contribution from Cooper-the-dog
4. Too many random princess items to count, found in lots of places where you'd least expect them - under rugs, behind the toilet, half buried in the yard
5. Memories of her playing like movies in my mind: dancing in the living room, playing with her friends in the backyard, making cookies together in the kitchen, practicing trick-or-treat at the front door

We had a good run, Pittsburgh! Here's to new Cheerio piles in Austin!

Rays of Hope

Turtle Dove got frightened on Friday. She did not threaten violence. She did not growl. She did not make her "mean face".

She said, "I'm gonna go to my mom," and she ran to me and placed her little hand in mine.

That is the first time I can remember where her little body did not react with fight, but instead sought out help.

I could have held her hand forever.

Going At It All Wrong

Okay, I am seriously signing myself up for little kid therapy. Talk therapy has nothing on kiddie "Theraplay".

Yesterday was Ana's first real appointment where the therapist worked with her. We mostly watch the first few times, gradually joining in until the point where we take over.

The therapist rubbed lotion on her hands and feet, hand fed her a juice box and little cookies, sang cutsie songs to her, and played peek-a-boo.

If that was all it took for me, imagine the places I could go! Afraid of roaches and small spaces - no longer! Calm passenger in any car driven by my husband - check! Hung up on getting things just right - what-evuh, I'm Mrs. Chillaxin!

Scott, hurry home - tonight you're playing Patty Cake and feeding me bon-bons. I can feel the healing already!!

20/20 Vision Is Overrated

Turns out that I have missed a lot by not wearing my glasses when getting Ana out of bed in the morning. I also have remained ignorant by taking out my contacts pre-Ana-bedtime ritual.

I'm not thinking this is such a bad thing, though, because it appears that Ana has been decorating the wall behind her bed.

With boogies.

Reality Bites

It struck me the other day that I have been chalking up my fine eye wrinkles, straggly looking hair, and puffy morning look to being tired for about 6 months now. Everyday I would look at myself in the mirror and think, God! I look so tired!

Yeah. Apparently I have a fabulous ability to hide from the truth. Once you hit the 6 month point, you can no longer say you look tired. Apparently my new look is not called tired, it's called old.

Ana knew this long before me:

How old is Ana? Three!
How old is Mommy? Old!

Thank goodness I love that kid.

They Speak Spinach

Apparently Ana's preschool class talked about Mexico at some point during her schooling because for the last couple of days she has been insistent that Daddy and I learn about Mexico.

Mexico, is next to Texas, but it's far, far away so you have to take an airplane there. And you fly there, and there is the ocean there. In Mexico.

I was much more impressed than the situation probably warranted, but it was early proof that My Girl is not going to be one of those college doofuses telling Jay Leno that Idaho is a country in the Middle East.

The other night we stopped by Blockbuster to pick up a kiddie flick. On our way out, we walked past a man speaking Spanish.

Mom! Why is that man saying bleh, bleh, bleh, bleh, bleh?

Furthering the learning about Mexico, I said - He's speaking Spanish. That's how they talk in Mexico. They have their own words, called Spanish.

It must have sunk in because, last night:

Mexico, is next to Texas, but it's far, far away so you have to take an airplane there. And you fly there, and there is the ocean there. In Mexico. They speak spinach there.

Wanna Play?

Have they no shame? "They" will put Cinderella's mug on just about anything to sell it to the easily influenced set.

Now featuring, the latest accompaniment to your daughter or princess-loving son's Easter basket... Princess Croquet.

Fancy a game and a spot of juice, anyone?

Acting 101

Lady Bug, Daddy, and I were playing princesses (what else?) with Ana's dolls. I was playing the part of Snow White, Ana was Mulan. Apparently she did not like my interpretation of the character:

Go back in your own movie, Snow White!

Small Miracles

Our girl went out with a bang. Honestly, we couldn't have asked for anything better. Other than the moment at the very end of the night where she threw down with a classmate who tried to take her balloon, she had a blast.

She sang her heart out, she laughed, we cried. It was an Oscar kind of night. The little lady wore one of Daddy's shirts, along with all of the other kiddos, and when she saw it this morning she said:

That was a fun night! Thank you for my Daddy shirt! Thank you for me singing with my loud voice! Thank you for the fun!

What a way to go out :-)

Seriously?!?

Okay, so who thinks it is a good idea to do the following in class on a day that there is an evening performance? On a day that Ana's grandmother is coming into town? On a day that there is no time to do anything about it pre-nap or post-nap?

1. Paint with glue in the morning (glue in hair, glue on face)

2. Color with some kind of yellow staining stuff that went right for the clothes (fixable) and arms (not so much)

3. Eat pizza with marinara sauce (my child looks like a loose lady that couldn't quite apply her red lipstick to the proper spots)

Ahhh... let's hope this is not our one and only shot at pictures pre-preschool performance. Or, maybe this makes for a better story -

Hey, check out our daughter - she's the colorful one with the interesting 'do

Another Deep Post...

A song that I sing to Banana on occasion had extra meaning today when I tuned into what I was saying:

Summertime and the living is easy
Fish are jumping and the cotton is high
Oh your Daddy's rich and your Mama's good looking (okay, so wishful thinking here, but stay with me...)
So hush little baby, don't you cry

One of these mornings, you're gonna wake up a singing
You're gonna spread your wings, and you'll start to fly
But until that day, ain't nothin' can harm you
So hush, little baby, don't you cry

Fingers and heart crossed that this will be true for Miss Ana. It won't be for lack of trying or love!

Isolation

If you can't laugh, you cry, right?

So, turns out Chickie's anxiety issues, and their underlying reasons, are worse than we feared. Our move to Austin just kicked everything up into high gear, which we knew, but we didn't know what it might take to move Chick back down. Apparently it means that Mommy will lose her slightly expanding social life. So will Chick, but therein lies the idea.

Gone is Tu/Th preschool (although we are still going to this Thursday's performance - we didn't learn all of those songs for nuttin').

Gone is Monday gym class and Mommy's time to chat with her friend while the Little Lady learns to do "ta-da"s at the end of each move. Granted, I might have predicted this one in advance as Ana has picked up a mini stalker - he shadows her and tells her that he wants to wear glasses and bows just like her. I might yell at him too if I were her.

Gone are birthday parties, most restaurants, playdates, and any overstimulating experiences - mind you, the driveway has been overstimulating of late. Bonus: at least I have a real reason to avoid Chuckie Cheese now.

For the next 6 weeks, I am to keep Ana within arm's reach at all times. For the 3 months following that, within my sight. After a while, we can try a playdate with one friend, but for no longer than 30 minutes, I sit by her side the whole time, and we cut it short if she starts getting anxious. Later we can build up.

Some children with this issue need to be homeschooled. Oh crap! Does anyone know the phone number for Hooked on Phonics?

Bottom line, if you need to speak with me, drive past the house - we can do sign language through the window. I'll be the one in desperate need of a haircut.

Samples

"...and please forgive me for biting mama who, by the way, tastes like chicken...."

One of our just-before-nap-time-killers (sad to admit) is to swing by Costco and take our fill of the various samples on offer. This past Sunday, there were more than just Bagel Bites and potstickers to try, there was also... Mommy.

Yep, that's right folks, Ana took a nip out of my right shoulder. I don't know who was more surprised - me or her! The fallout was due to frustration over a princess book that comes with figurines. Darlin' Daddy let her hold it, but told her that we couldn't open it up. 10 minutes of begging and whining later, Mommy-the-Heavy took the book to put it back on the display table. And...munch.

Chick seemed very sorry and kept talking about the incident. I was feeling better about it Monday morning when the very first words out of her mouth were - Mommy, I'm so sorry to bite your arm. I didn't mean.

I felt less better, however, when the next words out of her mouth were - Is the store open now? Can we go buy the book, please?

Although it doesn't make for a truly Shelley story, I feel I would be doing Ana a disservice if I didn't go on to mention that at breakfast she said this blessing:

Dear God, thank you for this food and for our family and please I am sorry to bite Mommy. Amen.

And, good for her lifetime expectancy, she didn't go on to ask God for the book.