So You Want to Be a Two Year Old.

Well, it's happened. Nora officially turned two at 12:27 pm on April 7th. At 12:32, the Terrible Twos made their appearance. Seriously. That must have been when all the stuff from the handbook really sunk in. You know, the handbook that Tate studied and culled from for a good, oh, three years. The one entitled "Congratulations! You Are Now Two! Let's Discuss the Best and Most Embarrassing Tactics to Make Your Mother Want to Pull Her Hair Out!"

Chapter 1: Public Tantrums. "This chapter instructs you, the wee little reader, that you must insist on being both inside the cart and walking next to it simultaneously. Never mind that this is impossible, it must still be insisted on. Because, to two year olds, impossible things could maybe become possible if you just SCREAM LOUD ENOUGH. After Mommy gets tired of trying to hold you down in the cart and chuckling nervously as people glare at her as her daughter howls and screeches in anguish, she will then just haul you out of the cart and start to walk away. Now, this is where you plop down on the floor and lay face down. Make sure to throw some ear-piercing shrieks in there while kicking your heels on the floor. Bonus if you're next to the greeting card aisle...then you can grab handfuls of cards and envelopes and chuck them on the floor to share in your agony.

Never mind that Mommy is slowly creeping away. See how she keeps looking back, hoping you'll shut up and get up? She won't actually leave you on the floor at Target, as you know. She would get in major trouble. She's just playing you. So therefore, you can lay on the floor for as long as you like. Try to switch it up a bit. Intersperse some "MOMMMMMMMMYYYYY....NOOOOOOOOOOOOs" in with the general screaming. This will make it sound like Mommy is inflicting great pain on you somehow and make her feel like even more of an idiot when people pop their head around the corner of the aisle to glare at her. Your brother, who has this handbook memorized and who is currently teaching seminars on it, decides to jump in and add his brand of help by wailing "But, Mommy...you can't leave her! I LOVE HER!"

So Mommy will feel pretty much like a gigantic tool. She will then slink her way back over to the Wailing Two Year Old of Doom and attempt to pick you up. You will put into place the patented "Pretend You're a Paralyzed Elephant" move where you somehow go from weighing a scant 23 lbs to being a limp, languishing, floppy, cumbersome load. She is then that mother, the one with a squalling two-year-old tucked under one arm as she trudges to the check-out counter. See how she's trying to pretend that you don't exist at this very moment? Give her a good swift kick in the kidneys. That'll teach her.

And, finally, scream the entire way home and chuck books at Mommy's head as she tries to drive. Because Mommy loves that. It goes without saying that you will continue your week-long streak of not napping. Because you now believe that naps will slowly eat away at your soul til you're but a shell of your former self. The End."

Way to go, Nora. You passed the first induction in to two-year-oldville with flying colors. I'm really freaking proud of you. Yay.

Two Cute

Ok, so there is just nothing to write about in winter. We get up, stare out the window at the snow, the kids drive me crazy, we dash out into the car, go to the store or the bank or some other boring indoor place, dash back into the car, come home, stare out the window at the snow, the kids drive me crazy, I put Nora down for a nap that she refuses to take like 64% of the time, the kids drive me crazy, I make dinner that usually doesn't get eaten by half of the family, the kids drive me crazy, we put the kids to bed, Tate gets up 3957 times, therefore driving me crazy, I drink wine, everyone goes to bed.

Repeat.

It gets old. So it's hard for me to find the humor in it after awhile. I get blue, the kids get sassy...it's just not an enjoyable time of year around here. So it's really great that winter lasts 10 months out of the year. Juuuuust perfect.

But anyway. It's April, the sun is shining, we're going to the park, hanging out with friends on the deck...I am like a little delicate flower that is finally starting to bloom. But the most important thing about April? My BABY GIRL turns two. Eeek. For real. It just happened last week. I was there.

Here's the feminine, dainty little daisy now:

RWARRRRF. CAKE.

Yeah, she still eats like a truck driver. And has no qualms about stuffing the food in her face at a rate that would impress one of those professional hot dog eaters. And the really fun part is that she's a MASSIVE 23 lbs. Yeah, she weighs as much as like one of my feet. And I'd be willing to bet that 14 of those pounds are in her head, considering that her noggin is in the 85 percentile for her age. No wonder I can never get any shirts over her head.

Tate is almost 4, and all of a sudden is...older. He holds long conversations with me about things like dinosaurs and cheese, and tells us how proud he is of us for doing things like putting bird food in the bird feeder. He chuckles at his little sister's antics and shakes his head ruefully, wondering if he was ever quite that young and silly. He makes me happy to be around him a good 87% of the time. That's up a good 53 percentile points from other time periods in our life. He's growing up.

So I will be trying to get better about blogging more. I mean, what else is there to do while sitting on a couch in the evening, drinking wine, watching stupid reality TV, and pretending I don't hear Tate thumping around in his bedroom upstairs?? Nothin'.