New Year's Not-So-Rockin' Eve

Dear Laney,

Once upon a time, your dad and I were happening single people who could party all night long and liked to ring in the new year with great festivity and copious amounts of adult beverages.

Those years are over.

Instead of a romantic dinner for two, we met your Uncle Nate and Auntie Brynn for barbecue.

Later, at home, your dad and I tried to remember what we had accomplished in 2010. While it seems like it wasn't a very productive year, it puts things in perspective when you realize we went from here to here:

After we put you to bed, your dad fixed me a dessert sampler and a glass of champagne. We watched an hour of TV and went to bed. The end.

- We'll take Holidays for $400, Alex.

- Two cookies, a scoop of ice cream, a game show and a 9:30 bedtime.

- DING! What is, "New Year's Eve for the exhausted parents of a toddler?"

Love,

Mom

Adventures in Dental Hygiene

Dear Laney,

In honor of the new year, I decided that it might be time to move on to a real, big-kid toothbrush.

I would say that this plan was not an unqualified success.

First, Crest claims that its baby toothpaste features a "mild fruit flavor." I let you taste it first, and you shook your head "no" and hopped back about three feet. Then your dad and I sampled it, and decided that by "mild fruit flavor," Crest actually meant to say "Baby aspirin and cough syrup in a blender with Vaseline."

So you decided to try a different tack and chew on the handle. Tastier, I'm sure, but not as effective.

Basically, what you really wanted to do was brush MY teeth for me. Heads up, cousin Heidi. We might have another dental hygienist in the family.

Not wanting to admit defeat, I pulled out some miniature travel toothbrushes that Peg Peg had left behind - one of the items she normally carries in her Mary Poppins purse, right between the sewing machine and coat rack. They came complete with just the tiniest dab of mint toothpaste. Surprisingly, you were down with this plan.

So, until we can convey to you the physics behind rinsing and spitting, I look forward to buying these expensive disposable toothbrushes. Thanks, Peg Peg!

Love,

Mom

Inge Fricke's Potato Casserole

Dear Laney,

This post has absolutely nothing to do with you, except that you thought these potatoes were super-delicious, and I thought this would be the easiest way to pass along the recipe.

We got this recipe from 80+ year-old Inge Fricke at my boss' wedding in Vermont a few years ago. I asked the lovely German lady how she managed to look so good after making food that even Paula Deen would think was sinful. She said "Oh dear, I don't eat it." She also cross country skis umpteen miles a day, so there's that.

There's probably a lesson in there somewhere, but I'm too busy eating potatoes to find it.

Love,

Mom

INGE FRICKE'S POTATO CASSEROLE

1 Large bag Oreida Hashbrowns*

1 can cream of mushroom soup

1 can cream of chicken soup

2 cups grated sharp cheddar

1 small onion, chopped

1 stick butter or margarine, melted & divided

1 cup of sour cream

salt and pepper to taste

Mix all ingredients together and spread evenly in casserole dish.

Bake one hour at 350 degrees.

* I have no idea what she's calling "large." I used a 30 ounce bag, and thought it came out just a little on the soupy side, and could have used more potatoes. Something around 45 ounces of hashbrowns would probably be ideal.

Gus Deserves A Sticker

Dear Laney,

I think Gus deserves a special treat for allowing you to pet him on the eyeball, use him like a pillow, and pound him like a drum.

For this, I have totally forgiven him for eating my Christmas lights. And garland.

Love,

Mom

The Dale Earnhardt Of Stepstools

Dear Laney,

You've gotten so speedy at moving the step stool where you want it and climbing up to the counter that in the amount of time it takes me to assemble the rest of the guacamole ingredients, you've already eaten the avocado.

All you're missing is some tennis balls on the legs of that thing so you can speed up your game, like the old folks with their walkers. Or maybe some airbrushed flames on the side.

Go greased lightning, you're burning up the quarter mile.

Love,

Mom

Consumer Tip

Dear Laney,

You know what guarantees you'll get speedy service at the dealership's repair shop? When you say to the mechanic, "Take your time with that windshield wiper arm. While you're installing the new one, my fistful-of-prunes toddler here will be checking out your floor models."

Love,

Mom

Hmmm... Yes and No

Dear Laney,

To review:

Helping your mom clear the snow off the car?

Yes.

Helping to get the snow out of the wheel well with the help of your garden tools?

Absolutely.

Eating the snow that you get from the car?

No.

Love,

Mom

The Pill And The Poopinator

Dear Laney,

This morning, we drove into town to run some errands, and our first stop was the library. You met another 1.5 year old there named Mavis, and the two of you chased each other around the Children's Section. Well, to be more accurate, she ran from you while you chased her with a Spongebob Squarepants Halloween book that she obviously did not want to read. Mavis had all of the standard one-year-old attributes, with the fun addition of CONSTANT SCREECHING.

When it came time to check out, we went to the scanning machine, where we experienced a difference of opinion. I wanted to scan our books, and you wanted to scan the entire innards of my wallet. Full-scale Laney breakdown ensued.

It was at that moment that I decided we were going to have one of those days when you're a complete pill. I told your Dad once that you were being a pill, and he looked at me like I was using a phony made-up Southern word, like when I correctly identify our shopping cart as "the buggy." So this afternoon, I looked it up in the dictionary and one of the accepted definitions of "pill" is "something unpleasant that must be endured."

Exactly, Mr. Webster. Exactly.

Then, it was on to Target, where - in a snit over God knows what - you pitched your entire sippy cup of milk on the floor of the electronics section, and I ended up mopping it up with the extra set of clothes in your diaper bag. While I picked out some clearance gift wrap, you threw out everything else I had already put in the cart. I wondered aloud, "What if I just beat you with this wrapping paper?" Not that I would ever ever ever in a million years do it, but sometimes just floating the option makes me feel better. When I told this story to Peg Peg later this afternoon, she said, "Just don't let anybody SEE you do it."

Our most important purchase at Target (and we know it was important, because when we checked out the first time, we forgot it was on the bottom shelf of the buggy, and we had to get BACK in line to pay for it) was this potty chair:

It looks like where the crew of the USS Enterprise would tinkle, so I've taken to calling it the Poopinator 3000. It even comes with its own toilet paper holder, so you know it was designed by someone who has never met a toddler.

Using some of that "leading by example" stuff he learned in the Navy, your Dad took it for a spin, which you didn't appreciate.

We don't expect much to come from this purchase any time soon, but it'll be good to have it on hand. One thing we know for sure, you'll look better sitting on it than the sample kid in the illustration on the side of the box:

Your dad says the poor kid looks like John Candy.

Love,

Mom

The Christmas Brunch Bunch

Dear Laney,

Since we missed seeing your Auntie Brynn yesterday - she was busy at work saving lives or whatever - we drove into town this morning so the whole family could have brunch together.

You enjoyed spending time with Brynn, who wants me to add a disclaimer here about how she only looks like this because she was at the end of four days of night shift work. But since she looks perfectly lovely, I don't see the point. I mean, it's not like her dad just cut her bangs.

But I think the highlight for you was the smorgasbord of Bloody Mary garnishes: celery, pickles, olives, etc.

If you're going to hang out in a bar, you might as well get in some veggies.

Love,

Mom

Merry Christmas

Dear Laney,

Your dad and I woke up this morning with the realization that this will probably be our last Christmas morning for at least the next 12 years that we'll get to sleep past 5am.

Grandma Sue, Erik, your Great-Grandpa Ron and Uncle Nate are all here visiting, which is great.

A few days ago, your dad got the brilliant idea to keep your step stool in the living room so you wouldn't be able to access the kitchen counter. It took you about a minute and a half to figure out that you could push that stool wherever you dang well please. Now, you use it to access all different parts of the house. You spent a good chunk of time this morning whipping up a mean batch of cumin.

After lunch, we exchanged gifts. We all drew names this year, and your Auntie Brynn (who had to work today - boo) was my secret Santa and sent me a balloon animals kit. It came with a book that warned that while the balloon arts are simple for serious balloonists, they would be difficult for me to master. No kidding. Nate and I both about popped a vein trying to simply blow up a balloon. This is Nate, celebrating an ounce of success:

But we persevered and after reading and re-reading the directions, I made this:

There is hope for me yet to become "a serious balloonist." My parents will be thrilled.

Your grandparents got you some great gifts that I'm sure will be making an appearance on the blog in the months to come, including an awesome easel from Grandpops and Grandma CC, and a set of cross country skis from Grandma Sue.

Yes, you read that right - skis. Your dad says "If you're old enough to walk, you're old enough to ski." He also wants to you be able to compete in the Olympics one day and say to Bob Costas, "I only missed one winter, Bob." So I look forward to the two of you mastering the art of skiing in the driveway over the next few months.

Here's a little highlight reel from the past week:

Hope everyone had a great Christmas!

Love,

Mom

Bad Parenting 101

Dear Laney,

Whee... Lots going on this week. Updating this blog requires me to have 20 minutes a day to myself, and that, my friend, would be a Christmas miracle (like when I discovered a box of Pizza Bites in the freezer this morning. Halleluja!).

What used to be a closet is now an office. What was my office is now an official dining area. What was a dining area is now an island with bar stools. Your dad and I organized our house all day yesterday, which meant that there were a few stretches where I needed you to entertain yourself.

Mercifully, you were content to watch cartoons on my iPod in what looked like the least comfortable position imaginable.

I would like to thank The Backyardigans, specifically the episode entitled "Riding The Range" ("Put a saddle on your pony/fill your pack with baloney") for making our home improvement projects possible.

Love,

Mom

Take Two

Dear Laney,

I know, I know... How many trees will have to die before we get this Christmas tree thing right?

So far, two.

Love,

Mom

Start 'Em Early, That's My Motto

It's Marvelous At The Mall

Dear Laney,

I don't have to work at all this week, and it's left me all jacked up on freedom.

So once again, I decided we should spend the day in town, because what better time to return a pair of jeans to the mall than four days before Christmas?

The best addition to our kitchen in ages has been the Ikea step stool that you can climb all by yourself. While I was telling you of our plan to go to the mall, you climbed up and helped yourself to a bagel. Apparently, you agree with Peg Peg that a serious day of shopping requires a solid breakfast. One that's roughly the size of your head.

Thanks to your newfound access to the kitchen counter, we get to make discoveries like this:

I guess it's nice that you put it back where you found it, but I'm not sure that our apples need gouges in them, courtesy of your chipmunk teeth.

After your lumberjack breakfast, we drove into town and hit the mall. I was able to wrangle you AND all of my selections at The Gap, and I got to the counter feeling like a champ...which is when I realized that my wallet was no longer in my diaper bag, because you had pulled it out somewhere along the car ride and had left it on the backseat. So back to the car. Then back to The Gap, where a 20 minute line had formed. (Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking, but the sale was TOTALLY worth it. Hush).

Now, being in a retail space with you is always hit or miss. Yesterday, when we were at Costco, we happened to go through a line with a very homely checker. As she was ringing up our purchases, you reached into my purse and offered her my lipstick. I know this was totally a coincidence, but it made for a perfect storm of awkward when I tried to explain to you that some people don't want to wear make-up. But today, you were a patient peach, and I didn't make an ass of myself! Win/win!

In fact, you were so good that I let you play in the fountain. You know, adjacent to the sign that says something about not letting your kids play in the fountain.

And on the way home, you got to watch "The Backyardigans" on my iPod and sip on a smoothie. See? Shopping has its perks.

And as a final perk, we ran into this guy on the road home:

Big day. Thanks for being such a great shopping buddy.

Love,

Mom

Cheese, Pepperoni and Dad

Dear Laney,

Our front yard looks like this:

...so in order to keep our house from turning into that hotel from "The Shining,"* we decided to get away for a day in town.

We met dad for lunch at Mackenzie Pizza, where you got your own cheese pizza, all to yourself.**

Sometimes, I love you guys so much it's ridiculous, and this was one of those days.***

Love,

Mom

* A movie you shouldn't see until college, because co-sleeping isn't my bag.

**which Dad ate half of.

***which does not mean I've forgiven your dad for cutting your hair.