I Got You, Babe

I know. Yes, I know. Really. You all have been tormented and left feeling strangely alone and unfulfilled by the lack of blogging. Well, too bad. I was in a really bad mood for about a month and any nugget of humor in my life was hiding deep under all the clutter in my family room. So I didn't have any desire to put my bitchy moanings and rantings down for all the world to see.

But I'm back now. Clap, clap.


To jump right in, let's start with the recent makeover we had. This is what my dear little Nora had been looking like:
Lovely, isn't she? Just pure sweetness and delicacy. What a little flower, all abloom with dainty and cute. Actually, to get the real picture, you'd have to imagine this 'do with food and lint and, I don't know, baby raccoons hanging off of it. She was like Little Miss Dustmop Head. Plus there was the whole issue of her not being able to, you know, SEE. We got tired of hearing the thumps as she careened into walls and took headers down the stairs. Kidding.

So I took her in for a little snip snip and here she is now:

Or maybe this is her. They've pretty much got identical hairstyles. She's still working on the moustache, though. I'm trying to get her to start answering to "Sonny" and teaching her to sing "I got flowers, in the spring....I got you, to wear my RIIIIING". It's slow going.

She's learning a lot of new words, although her favorite is still "BladabladaBLAHBLAHBLAH". So far that's seemed to have meant "cup", "sponge" "blackened banana peel" and "Mommy's arm fat". But she's also got "Doggie" "Airplane" "Thank you" (which comes out sounding like "Dankmnn"), and still, of course "BOB!!!!!! STOP!!!". She also likes to bid people adieu by saying "bye", although when she says it, it comes out as "Die". So I often hear her sweet little voice warbling "Die, Ma! DIE DIE, MA!" It's a little disconcerting. I keep expecting to turn around and see her coming at me with a stick in her hand or something.

And let's not forget about this little tornado:

I'm sure you'll be shocked to hear he's still the same bounce-off-the-walls, yell-at-the-top-of-his-lungs, make-Mommy-drink-straight-out-of-the-winebox little dude he always was. He's in preschool now and adores it. I've also got him in swimming and gymnastics in vain attempts to burn off some of the energy he has stored. He enjoys those classes too, but refuses to let them tire him out in any way, shape or form. Truly, how daft and moronic of me to hold out any pathetic little morsel of hope. I chalk it up to sleep deprivation and just pure desperation. Can I get an hour of downtime in the afternoon, people? No? How about 20 minutes? 10? Periodic escapes to the bathroom where I feign gastrointestinal troubles? Nope. These children follow me everywhere.

And now, my brief reintroduction back into the world of blogging must end for today. Nora is chucking cut up fruit at the dogs and Tate is trying to crawl into the dishwasher and shut the door. Better I don't do too much all at once anyway. I don't want to pull a muscle.