'Wimmin'! 'Wimmin'!

Dear Laney,

I have to confess, this whole situation is a mystery to me. For days now, you've been obsessed with swimming. Since we live in a place so cold we could store our groceries outside every month but August, you have actually spent very little time in the water. But that hasn't stopped you from being fixated.

I don't know what brought this whole phase on. My guess is that Dora the Explorer went to the beach to save a baby crab and its family, and as a result, you developed a perfect pretend breaststroke. You windmill your arms while yelling, "wimmin!" It's nice that you narrate it for us, because the first few times you did it, I had no idea what in God's name you were doing.

Last night, you were so determined to go wimmin that you climbed into the dogs' water bucket and called it a win.

Man, you were proud of yourself.

Ella was mostly perplexed, but Gus was willing to work around you.

The latest incarnation of this madness came this morning, when you pulled your grandmother's bathing suit out of who knows where, and brought it to me, declaring. "wim oot." Yep, that's a swimsuit all right. I went ahead and dressed you in Peg Peg's bathing suit and got her on the webcam so she could see.

Before I even had a chance to tell her what was going on, Peg Peg said, "My, that's a mature sundress." I can't wait to use that line on her next time she wears it.

Tomorrow morning, we leave on a road trip for the Tetz family reunion in Colorado. Even though we don't have to, I've made reservations for us to spend the night in a hotel in Utah along the way. You know why? Because they have a swimming pool, and I'm tired of hearing about 'wimmin the best mom in the history of the world.*

Love,

Mom

* Minus the times when I let you hang out in slobbery dog water.

Dispatches From Day Care

Dear Laney,

Today, Tracy forwarded me some pictures she's taken of you at school.

True story: Last Sunday, you were in a super grumpy mood in your car seat as we headed into town for breakfast. I said, "I don't know why you're grumpy. We're not taking you to school." You clapped and squealed "'Cool! 'Cool!" So apparently, that's exactly why you were grumpy. "What kind of world are we living in," I thought, "when Cracker Barrel is less exciting than day care?" And then I saw the pictures.

Looking at these pictures, I think I'm going to enroll myself at your school. It looks like a constant party - Cookies. Crazy hats. Kooky songs about the letter "M."

Heck, throw in Liza Minnelli and it's Studio 54.*

Love,

Mom

* Not really. And don't google it.

Free Baby With Cabinet Purchase

Dear Laney,

In one episode of "The Simpsons," the local all-you-can-eat buffet pretends to be closed every time Homer pulls into their parking lot. I wonder if the management of the Missoula Home Depot ever considers the same course of action when they see you roll through their front doors like you did this morning at 8:30am.

Halfway through our shopping excursion, you picked up a plastic strap that had fallen off a pallet of lumber, and you dragged that dang thing down every aisle like it was attached to a chihuahua you were taking for a stroll.

On the one hand, I hope we didn't annoy the employees too much. On the other hand, we've spent more than the GDP of Grenada* at their store, so I don't really care.

Love,

Mom

* I looked it up: 626 million. Yep, that seems like the amount we have tied up in screws and drywall.

I'd Have To Be Crazy

Dear Laney,

We're having one of those days around here when Dad works on something loud and dangerous in a gaping hole in the floor. Other families call them "Saturdays." Once again, you and I thought it would be a good idea to clear out of the house for a while, so we decided to go for a walk.

Before we could leave, you had to stop in the driveway and have a long and very heated conversation with whatever poor imaginary soul was on the other side of this PVC connector. I don't know who it was, but I bet you're going to get that money refunded to your account in seven to ten business days.

We saw lots of pretty flowers along the road, and even discovered a beautiful ladybug.

Speaking of bugs, you spotted an ant in the middle of the road, and sat down to track its progress.

It reminded me of that great Willie Nelson song, "I'd Have To Be Crazy," which goes:

There's been days when it pleased me

To be on my knees

Followin' ants as they crawled 'cross the ground.

Been insane on a train, but I'm still me again

And the place where I hold you is true.

So I know I'm all right, 'cause I'd have to be crazy

To fall out of love with you.

So true, Willie. So true.

Love,

Mom

Yep, Still Funny

Dear Laney,

Over a year has passed, and I still enjoy putting things on your head. What can I say? The classics never go out of style.

Love,

Mom

Hot Fun In The Summertime

Dear Laney,

Yesterday, we continued our streak of afternoon adventures by going to the playground at the Frenchtown elementary school.

The playground has two slides: one that's a perfectly reasonable yellow plastic number, suitable for your age group, and one that's a near-vertical metallic luge of death. Guess which one you were into.

I have no pictures of you on the Suislide (as I've decided to call it), because I needed both hands to catch you at the bottom so you didn't careen over the fence and into the river.

So far, I'm a big fan of this summer.

Love,

Mom

Give Peace A Chance

Dear Laney,

Well, glory be! It's a summer solstice miracle! It was 49 degrees when I drove you to school yesterday, but by the time I picked you up, it was 76 and beautiful.

For our afternoon outing, I took you to the Frenchtown Pond so we could play in the water with your toys. Since your pants were getting wet, I took them off. It wasn't long before you noticed the playground in the distance and took off running in your baby Crocs and diaper. I had to have that same conversation that I sometimes have to have with your dad: "When it comes to going outside or interacting with the public, pants are NOT optional."

I caught up with you halfway through this field and wrestled you into your back-up pants.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that there were eighty kajillion kids on that playground. You didn't hesitate for a minute to charge right in. There was a group of boys who looked to be about five or six, running around with toy machine guns, blasting each other. One boy was dressed in an all-camo outfit, and as he put his gun into his over-the-shoulder holster, I heard him yell to another boy, "Tell 'em I'm comin' in HOT!" I wanted to yell, "WHO ARE YOUR PARENTS?? And can I please buy you a 'Backyardigans' box set so you can quit watching 'Platoon' on Blu-ray?"

One boy got too close to you on the swinging bridge with his gun, and you shoved your palm into the end of his gun and hollered "NO!" Not in a I'm-a-hippie-who-disagrees-with-violence kind of way, but more of a I'm-getting-tired-of-your-macho-crap kind of way.

Man, I was proud.

Love,

Mom

Terrific Twos

Dear Laney,

That's right: Terrific Twos.

I'm worried that people reading this blog may be starting to think that all I do is complain about you. It's true that you sometimes have a mean streak about a half-mile wide*, and occasionally Peg Peg talks to you on the webcam no more than three and a half minutes before she has to confess, "Okay, I'm exhausted." But you also have moments - whole afternoons, even - of being a complete angel. And today was one of those days.

I picked you up at school, and you were in such a good mood. I asked your teacher if you'd been a pill, and she said "Actually, no. [Name redacted] was actually the doodyhead today." Awesome! To celebrate this victory, I took you to the mini mart and let you pick out your own snack. Then, we stopped by the river on the way home so you could throw my half of the chips in the water we could splash and play.

We spent about an hour running and throwing rocks and pointing out the birds. We didn't fuss, not even once.

Thank you for a perfect day. You were a real treat, but rest assured I love you just as much when you ARE the Doodyhead Of The Day.

Love,

Mom

* We talked to our friend Amy tonight, a.k.a. stellar mom and professional early childhood educator, and she says that your "That's mine!" phase is actually developmentally advanced, because you're able to verbally communicate that you don't want to share, vs. just biting the other kid. Maybe this is true, and maybe it's bogus and Amy's just a total enabler. Either way, we'll take it. Thanks, Amy!

Take A Cruise On The S.S. Father's Day

Dear Laney,

What a fun, exhausting, happy-but-exasperating day we had yesterday.

After a biscuit breakfast and a bike ride with the dogs, we started loading up for a canoe excursion with Cedar's family.

Almost immediately, I became the nine millionth mother in the history of the world to insist: "You can't go out on the boat unless you wear your life jacket." Turns out you hate the life jacket more than you like the boat. Of course, this didn't stop you from thinking that you own the canoe... each time your dad and Todd paddled off into the pond, you yelled after them, "NO! 'AT'S MINE!!!" Note to self: it is impossible to suggest to a toddler that since Mama's had the canoe for four years, and paid for it with her own damn Visa, that it is most decidedly Mama's canoe.

As always, it was great to play with Cedar. As babies go, she's incredibly patient, and is mostly willing to put up with your "'at's mine" routine - in this case, because you didn't want to share Pablo the stuffed penguin - but after a few hours, even she started to suspect that you're cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.

Your dad caught a fish. I don't know if he was more excited about the fish itself, or because this means I have to stop making jokes about him on this-here blog.

Your dad and Todd both had their fish tied to the canoe, and after getting out, it took them a minute to notice that the fish were swimming away with the boat. Todd, master fisherman that he is, hooked the canoe with his fishing rod and reeled it back to shore. Note to "Amazing Race" producers: I look forward to seeing this challenge in a future episode.

After a relaxing afternoon by the pond, it was time to head home. I put you in the car seat where, based on this photo, you were either extremely tired or just passed-out drunk.

We're glad Dad had a good time, and we hope he had a great Father's Day. I look forward to that fish living in my freezer for years to come, so every time I question your dad's wilderness aptitude, he can throw it in my face.

Love,

Mom

Happy Father's Day, Thor

Dear Thor,

Thank you for another year of working hard to be the best father in the whole wide world. I'm sure Laney would say the same thing, if she wasn't so busy pulling you around by the finger and yelling "'ad! 'ad! 'ad!"

I put together a few of my favorite moments of the two of you together from the past year (since the last time I did one of these Father's Day videos). I hope you like it.

As I've found myself saying a lot lately, you're the only person in the world I'd have two young'uns with.

Love,

Brooke

P.S. Technical note: This video is a larger size than the ones I normally put on the blog, so it might take a minute to load - sorry.

It's Not Me, It's You

Dear Laney,

Yesterday, when your dad brought you home from school, I asked him, "How was she today?" He reported, "Miss Tracy says she was a butthead."

Well, thank God.

Here I've been thinking that I'm the only one aggravated by your early-onset Terrible Twos. But it turns out that even Saint Tracy - a woman you love so much, you let her put two ponytails in your hair - thinks you have butthead tendencies.

You may be a pill, but at least I'm not crazy.

Love,

Mom

Pass The Collection Plate. Try The Casserole.

Dear Laney,

This morning, when you got up, I told you that it was a school day. Yippee! Hooray! School! Then, you told me in no uncertain terms that you would NOT be going to school. You would not put on socks, you would not put on shoes, you wouldn't allow a barrette in your hair... because all those things signal that we're getting ready for school. You were cranky, cranked up to 11.

I mean, I looked at your pajama shirt and thought, "I could write a blog post called 'False Advertising.'"

But I threw you in the car seat anyway and drove you to school because - as God is my witness - I needed 6 hours away from you.

When we got to school, you stood at the front door, then sighed and threw your shoulders back, like you were steeling yourself. Then you pushed open the door and right before my eyes, you turned into your great-grandmother arriving at Sunday School.

You had a smile on your face and started hugging young'uns I had never seen before in my life. You waved "Hiiiiiiii" to the staff and patted other kids on the arm. You weren't so much walking in to day care as you were working the room at a Methodist church in lower Alabama. If you had a bigger vocabulary, I swear you would have been asking the other kids how their knee was treating them, if their arthritis was acting up, and if you could bake them a rum cake.

You were so completely different from the possessed child I had just been in the car with, that I just stood there watching you dole out the hugs with my mouth hanging open. Finally, Miss Tracy had to wave to me and say, "We'll see you this afternoon!"

So nice to know you can channel your inner Granny Jack. If you ever want to try this magical conversion at home, that'd be okay by me.

Let the congregation say "Amen,"

Mom

Stuff You're Into This Month

Dear Laney,

Here's the latest round-up of things you think are super cool:

1) "The Cat In The Hat Knows A Lot About That" on PBS. You love this show. Martin Short does the voice of The Cat, which explains why the first dozen times I watched it, I wondered why the main character sounded so much like Ed Grimley, I must say.

2) Burritos. Waitresses always look at me like I'm nuts when I order a 22-month old her own entree, but then you show 'em.

3) The Wii-mote. You've learned how to cue up and start your own TV shows on Netflix Instant. Since it's a browsable menu with pictures of the shows, you're easily able to find your way from Dora to Elmo, depending on your mood. What you can't do is turn on the television itself. So when your dad told you yesterday that you weren't allowed to watch TV, you stood in front of the black screen, clutching your little Wiimote, trying to make magic happen, with tears on your face. Saddest display ever. I hope you grow up to run a major network, because otherwise letting you program your own entertainment just makes us bad parents.

4) Knuffle Bunny by Mo Willems. Your current favorite book - we read it three times a day. Trixie - who can't talk yet - and her dad go to the laundromat, where Trixie accidentally leaves her favorite toy behind. She spends most of the book trying to explain to her dad why they have to go back, using words like "Aggle, Flaggle, Klabble." You have memorized Trixie's dialogue, and say it along with me. Can we get you to use real words? Rarely. But fake words? You betcha.

5) Sigh. Your dad has a stack of flash cards left over from his days as a Navy pilot. On the front of each card is a way in which a helicopter could go kerflooey. On the back are the steps a pilot should take if that particular disaster were to happen. You love to stack, sort and distribute these cards, even though they have terrible titles like "Hellfire Misfire." I always assume I'm going to turn the cards over and the "action steps" will read STEP ONE: ATONE FOR YOUR SINS or at least STEP ONE: BEND OVER, PUT YOUR HEAD BETWEEN YOUR KNEES AND KISS YOUR BUTT GOODBYE. But they usually just read something boring like "Alert the crew."

6) Applesauce in a squeezable packet. I guess you like your snacks at maximum velocity.

Love,

Mom

News Bulletin

Dear Laney,

You know how we keep asking you if you want a brother or a sister, and you keep saying,"No?"

Well, too bad:

We've known for a while, but didn't want to make an official announcement until I went to my first appointment, which was this morning. I'm almost 3 months along, everything looks great, and your sibling should arrive sometime around December 29th.

Here's an example of how your dad and I can be in the same room, but in different worlds: When the ultrasound tech was waving the magic wand around and talking about the estimated due date, your dad was holding my hand and getting misty-eyed. I was busy thinking, "If it's a girl and she comes near Christmas, we coulda named her Noel, except that was the name of Suzanne Sugarbaker's pig."

...But we don't have to worry about this one turning out to be a girl, because Grandma Sue has already e-mailed me to say, "Oh, he's so cute already! I love him." (emphasis and font color hers).

We'll keep you posted as things progress. In the meantime, you can keep practicing saying "NO, 'AT'S MINE!!" and I can keep kicking myself for not giving this blog a more generic title, like "Yodels to My Young'uns," or just "Y'all Hush."

Love,

Mom

One Step Forward, One Hike Back

Dear Laney,

It has rained every day for the last 40 days at our house. We haven't been able to play outside much, and your dad hasn't been able to mow the grass yet. To get to the swingset would require a machete; while that holds a certain El Salvadorian charm, I wasn't up for it yesterday.

So when the rain paused for a few hours and Brooke and Cedar called and suggested we all go for a walk on a nearby hiking trail, I was all for it. After all, I had run out of ways to entertain you, short of walking down the street to visit the old bearded guy who's working on his ark.

After 2 days of feeling mopey, you seemed to be on an upswing.

...but after about five minutes on the trail, you were done, and just wanted to be carried.

Do I own about $500 in various baby-carting equipment? Yes. Did I have any of it with me yesterday? No.

So, like a short, blonde, irritated sherpa, I carried you and all our picnic supplies back to the car. Cedar and her mom, Margaret Bourke-White The Other Brooke had a much better time.

We came home and I put you down for a nap, and then Cedar and I totally went joyriding in your car. I'm sure by the time you're old enough to read this, you will have forgiven us. Here's hoping.

Today, you still don't feel good, so you're home from school. We played a "game" this morning where you pushed me into the closet, waved good-bye, and shut the door on me. Alone in the dark, with my head resting on the T-shirt shelf, I thought, "This is nice."

Sigh. I'll be blending smoothies, back-scratching and watching Season 4 of The Backyardigans if anyone needs me.

Love,

Mom

The Nicest Thing I Can Say

Dear Laney,

There's a scene in the play Steel Magnolias where the character Truvy (later played in the movie by Dolly Parton) says, "My son Louie brought his new girlfriend home last night, and the nicest thing I can say about her is all her tattoos are spelled correctly." I tell you that, so I can tell you this:

Today was rough. You were sick and feverish and ornery, and I did my best to rise to the occasion. I hid medicine in a smoothie. I scratched your back for hours. I watched an entire season of The Backyardigans. I picked M&Ms out of the trail mix. I read the same book about dinosaurs a dozen times. I took you for a 3-mile walk in your stroller. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I was peed on.

I spent half an hour setting up a finger painting area, so you could paint for four minutes.

I thought a cool bath might help with your fever - you disagreed. I fought dirty by taking your baby doll into the bathroom with me, and pretending like I didn't care if you joined us or not. Who needs you, when splashing around with this doll is SO DANG FUN?? I totally preyed upon your onlychilditis, and you were in the tub with us in no time flat.

...which brings us back to Truvy. I thought of that quote today, because my version would be, "My daughter Laney brought her illness home from day care, and the nicest thing I can say about today is that it's over."

Love,

Mom