This is what 17.5 months looks like

Ladies and gentlemen, I have an almost one and a half year old in my house!

Love Bunny.  That's what her shirt says.  Thanks Mimi.

 And is she the cutest thing you've ever seen, or what?!



This little lady is talking up a storm, and unfortunately for me, I seem to be the only one who knows what she's saying.  "Da-Da" = Daddy, Georgia, and Dora.   "WaWa" = Water,  Cookie, and Cookie Monster. (Cookie Monster says "wah wah wah" when he eats cookies, it actually makes perfect sense.) It's gotten a bit dicey when she asks for "wawa" and I tell her "No honey, not until you eat your dinner," and then she frantically demands "WAWA" and it turns out she was actually asking for water and not a cookie.  That one hurt.
Cookie monster has also inexplicably taken up residence in her bathroom.  He is her number one bath and potty time buddy.  So much so that when we walk through the bathroom doors, she completely ignores me as mom and I must become Cookie Monster. Luckily, I do a pretty mean Cookie and she is usually wildly entertained and I am exhausted. (I KNEW THAT THEATER DEGREE WOULD COME IN HANDY.) I literally have no idea how this started, and strangely, she could care less about Cookie when we are not in the bathroom.  It's also worth noting that after 20 minutes, Cookie becomes Russian.  Happens every time. 

It may be evident from the photo above that she has not quite mastered the art of smiling with her eyes open, but we're working on it.  

 Try again?

Nope.

Her most favorite thing is the park.  "Whee" means park.  We head to a "whee" just about every day, weather permitting. She's pretty brave and goes down the slide, even the big ones, all by herself!

Her love for the park and slides transcends time and space, and with the power of her imagination she can find a slide just about anywhere:

Carry or Check? Check!  It's a slide!  Seriously, she played on this thing for a half hour while waiting at the airport, saying "whee!" the whole time.  Other things that double as slides: couch cushions, the side of her car seat, mom's arm, Georgia, a bowl, a spoon, the side of the bathtub (Cookie gets some good reps on that one) the piano bench, the wall, the side of her crib, a strategically placed pillow, the list goes on...

This picture was taken in paradise and that's the only reason she's holding a Dorito.  I was trying to soften the blow a bit and give her yogurt ("wowo") but someone opened Pandora's bag and little missy was into it.  Big time.  My favorite part was when she dipped her Dorito in her wowo.  And came back for seconds.  And thirds.  She did the same thing last night at dinner with sweet potatoes.  Anyone who knows Eric may not be surprised by this.

(We will cover paradise in another post or two.  Or three. Depends on how well Eric photo shops our Doritos away.)

Sleeping has been inconsistent the past few months, mostly, (I think? I HOPE?!) because we've done so much traveling.  I'm writing this down so my future self knows that this little nugget, at a year and a half, still doesn't sleep all the way through the night without a check in or two from mom. (AND DAMN those squeaky floorboards outside of her room.  DAMN THEM.)  Also she sometimes likes to be rocked, which is my favorite thing in the world.  And she likes to put her hand down my shirt. A lot. If you're a girl and she likes you, careful.  She will go down your shirt. Consider yourself warned.

She's learning new things daily-- she can count to three, she practices writing and says "A-B-C" as she scribbles, she knows all sorts of animal sounds, she definitely knows the color blue, and she might know red and orange, or she might just be really lucky. 

I know I am.

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Guest Post - Not To Them, Not That Way

I can't even.  I hate Duke.  HATE them.  I grew up rooting for Carolina (my parents became sports fans because of me - I taught them - so they didn't teach me to root for the home team, I figured that out later).  Hurley.  Laettner. Langdon. RedDICK. Wojo.  Jesus, those asshats were dicks.  Coach Kzeshekcovkdiacbbi.  Or whatever the heck his name is.  No one.  NO ONE likes that team unless your first name is Douche and your last name is Bag.  So this.  This abomination of a game really, really pisses me off.

I'm not here to talk about how we outplayed these private school poops (that IS what a dook is, right?).  I'm not going to break it down.  If you didn't see it, then you don't know basketball.  I'm not going to go on and on about how hard it is to play 5 on 8.  How those Stevie Wonders couldn't even get a replay right.  How I now know what it felt like to be a Seahawks fan when they lost that Super Bowl to the Steelers.  Or a Kings fan when the Lakers shot 134 free throws in the 4th quarter of that 2002 Conference Finals game.  Or a Bucks fan during the 2001 Eastern Conference Finals.  Wait, I do know what that's like!

No, I'm here to talk about Jim Nantz, Bill Raferty, and Grant Hill.  What. The. Hell.  To paraphrase the headphone mogul, Dr. Dre: CBS can eat a big fat D.  I'm never watching your channel again (unless, of course, I have a team playing on it, and there is no other option).  The LEAST biased announcer on that crew was Grant Hill.  And he won 2 NCAA Championships PLAYING AT DUKE FOR COACH K!  I mean, if I never hear Raferty's voice again it'll be too soon.  All I can hear is his "AND THE FRESHMAN HAS STONES OF STEEL" when Duke hit something, only to be immediately followed with: "well, they needed that" when Frank the Tank hit a three to counter.  I actually wanted to punch him more during that game than Duke's #3.  And that's saying something, because that kid need a good fist to the face.  Hard.  But I digress.

The Final Four allowed viewers to get local announcing crews by switching the channel to another affiliate.  You could watch TruTV (1 - that's a REAL channel... I looked it up and everything; 2 - I feel like we got TruTV because that's the crap channel, and that's how CBS thought of us) and have real, live Wisconsin voices on your telecast.  That was great!  I didn't have to listen to some national guy beg for Kentucky to go 40-0.  But for the Final?  No.  I get Grant effing Hill.  And Raferty.  I need a shower.  Go Big Red.  And this.

-the hubby

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