We Are So Ready For 2012

I've really had enough of this year.

Sorry I haven't been around for the last two weeks.  Our poor little computer randomly stopped recognizing some of the drives, and while thankfully it was all covered by the warranty, it took a few days for the parts to come in.  Then, WeeBee's Nonna died.

Nonna was his name for his great-grandma, and it was the first name he learned to say aside from Mummum and Dadda.  She was 92 years old, still sharp as anything, and always had a bag of cookies for WeeBee.  She had even gotten him a coloring book for Christmas before she died, and kept it hidden from him under a couch cushion incase he came over before then.

I really wasn't sure how WeeBee would handle the whole situation.  In his world death refers to computer batteries and cell phones that need to be recharged - neither of which is exactly permanent.  I tried to explain to him that Nonna was very sick all of a sudden, and she would go live with Baby Jesus so He could take care of her.  I wasn't sure how that would go over either, since the last time we went to visit Baby Jesus in church, he kicked pews and bounced around to the point that I had to drag him back to the car, screaming "Noooo, Baby Jesus!  I want to talk to Baby Jesus!" the whole time.  Let me tell you, it is absolutely impossible to feel good about yourself as a parent after that.

Anyway, when I told him about Nonna, he changed the subject.  Repeatedly.  At first I thought he was just being a typical two year old with the attention span of a gnat, but then I started to get the impression he was changing the subject because he didn't like what he was hearing.  When we got to Nonna's house, he didn't go looking for her, as he always had in the past.  He didn't mention her at all.  Somewhere in that little brain of his, he had accepted that she didn't live there anymore.  That was a bit of a relief, but I was then worried that on the day of the funeral he would get to Baby Jesus' house and throw a fit because he expected Nonna to be there.  Thankfully he amused himself by taking the hymnals out of their plastic protective covers, and was the most well behaved he's ever been in church.  He hasn't forgotten her, though - whenever he sees a picture of her, he says, "Mommy, that's Nonna!" right away.  So I guess that's really all we could ask for - that if Nonna had to go, at least he was old enough to remember her, and he's ok with  Baby Jesus taking care of her.

Unfortunately, in the week since the funeral, WeeBee has gotten a stomach virus and all four of us here have gotten terrible colds.  I have yet to decide whether it's worse for all of us to feel like we've been run over by trucks at the same time, but get it over with, or for it to drag on for a month while we get sick one after another.

And now I must go - WeeBee is slithering around on the ground underneath the Christmas tree rather like the Grinch who stole Christmas, and I'd better go figure out what he's after before the whole thing comes down.

Some Thoughts For the Day

1. No matter how good you think your child's eye/hand coordination is, never let them eat pastina on the couch.  You thought Cheerios were a pain to get out from in-between cushions?  Try rubbery stars the size of the head of a pin.
2. There's a quarter of a loaf of bread missing in my house.  I remember taking the bag away from WeeBee and putting it up on top of the refrigerator.  It's possible that my husband or I moved it afterwards.  Anyway, the thing is gone.  It's not the end of the world in that we had another loaf in the freezer, but I'm more concerned that I left it out on the counter and WeeBee swiped it, took it somewhere to eat in secret, and now there's an eighth of a loaf of bread hidden behind a dresser, becoming a mold farm.
3. It's very difficult to type when a small child is standing behind you, popping his head over your shoulder on alternating sides saying, "Ogurt!  Ogurt!  Ogurt, Mommy!  Ogurt!  Ogurt!  Ogurt, Mommy!  WeeBee NEEDS Ogurt!"  Of course you do, sweetheart.  We won't speak of the giant bowl of Cheerios and the sippy cup of milk you just had for breakfast.
4. Lowly speaks!  For seven and a half months she's been the quietest baby ever, perfectly content to watch WeeBee carry on.  Maybe once a day she'd get excited or indignant about something and babble for 30 seconds, and then go right back to observing the chaos around her.  Earlier this week she started shouting "Dyadda!  Dyadda!" when she woke up from her nap and wanted to be picked up.  Then yesterday she was puttering in the living room in her walker and Daddy came into the room.  She threw her hands up in the air towards him and squealed, "Dadda!"  :)

Happy Birthday, Mommy and Lowly?

WeeBee likes to wander around the house and talk to himself.  Sometimes he even sings.  Today, he apparently decided that it was Mommy and Lowly's birthday, and has been belting out "Happy Birthday" at the top of his lungs.

I have no idea what brought this on.  I had mentioned to him about a week ago that Christmas was Baby Jesus' birthday, but we didn't sing about it.  I didn't even think he knew the "Happy Birthday" song.  I don't think he's heard it real life since some time in October, and they generally don't use it on tv because of the royalty issue, so he didn't learn it from there.

Sad part is, I'm in the mood for birthday cake now.

I Guess Paula Deen Won't Be Going to Norway Anytime Soon

Some odd news for y'all...

Norway Runs Out of Butter

So if I go spend $10 on butter at my supermarket, is there a way I can sell it to the Norwegians online for $130?  Maybe set up some sort of cash4butter business?

A Real Cowboy

We've been watching quite a few Westerns at our house lately.  I don't remember what started it - probably a random suggestion on Netflix.  (Does your Netflix account make really strange suggestions for you?  Ours does, but more on that some other day.)  I haven't seen too many of them in their entirety, since WeeBee is usually puttering around, but Daddy has taught WeeBee to say "John Wayne."  Trust me, it's adorable.

Last night, whatever movie Daddy was watching happened to catch WeeBee's attention.  We then had the following conversation.

WeeBee:  Mommy, what's that?
Mommy:  That's John Wayne.  He's pretending to be a cowboy.
WeeBee:  (very serious)  No.  He is a cowboy.

I'm not going to argue with that.