sumodancer

Momma's No Suckah

Around bathtime last night, Bug complained of some pain in her foot. She was limping, even. She couldn't remember injuring it... We did dance quite a bit yesterday, come to think of it. I figured she may have pulled something.

After a particularly bad nightmare brought her to my room at 1:30 this morning, Bug was complaining even more about the foot. This morning, moreso. I decided to keep her home from school.

Having her rest, I left her on the couch watching a cartoon while I grabbed the laundry. Imagine the shock, the horror, the betrayal I felt when reentering the livingroom to find her jumping. on. the. couch.

Lunch packed. Clothes on. Out the door. Booger!

After

Before

The first few days were the worst. Tylenol with codeine unBugs the Bug. Once she was off that wretched stuff, she started drinking and eating normally, and became my sweet Bug once more. The main difference is that her voice is markedly different. It's higher pitched and still a bit scratchy. It was hard to understand her for a while, but that's getting much better now.

A friend whose son had his tonsils out a few months back said he had a 2-inch growth spurt in the month following his surgery. We shall see.

Before

The monstrosities almost touch each other.

Tomorrow Bug gets her tonsils out. She is looking forward to riding on the gurney, having a bell to ring for service and eating ice cream, pudding, popsicles and yogurt. She is not looking forward to going to sleep.

The Daily Tales of Little Jacob

There's a boy in Bug's new preschool class named Little Jacob. She always refers to him as "Little Jacob." When asked the other day if there is another Jacob -- Big Jacob? -- in the class, she says there's not. There's just one Jacob. Little Jacob.

Little Jacob pushes. He hits. He spits. Every day there's a tale to tell involving Little Jacob. Today, while watching the Dora where they move like a jaguar MOVE MOVE MOVE to save the baby bear, at the moment when they don lifevests and head down the river, Bug suddenly turns to me and announces, "Mommy! Little Jacob pees in his pants every day! He has to wear PULL UPS!"

Within minutes, Little Jacob is forgotten. She stands and says, "Momma! I can show you how fast a cheetah runs!" (This from Zaboomafoo this past weekend.) She then takes off out of the room.

June 17, 2007
Horsey Ride at the Weekend Market

Digging Deep

Bug has developed her own method of wiping up after pooping. She has taken my advice to "dig deep" for that total clean by inserting the wipe between her cheeks and doing a little dance.

Her Kingdom for a Dry Glopgloth

I posted a story on Jem's site tonight that included this. It belongs here, too.

Bug cannot stand getting her hair washed. Particularly she can't stand having water poured on her head. Specifically she can't stand getting water on her face. Whenever the tiniest drop of water gets on her nose, she'll do her pouty, just-about-to-cry face and whine, "I have water on my face! My nose is wet! I need a glopgloth!" (She still can't pronounce "washcloth," and we're not pushing to teach her either because it's so tickling to hear her say "glopgloth." Is that wrong?) Not getting a glopgloth results in tears, or what comes closest to it: Sad Bug. Sad Bug is no fun.

Long story short, when Bug is getting her hair washed, the washer must not divert attention away from the task. Getting it done quickly and meticulously, with as little water touching hairless facial skin as possible, is the key to avoiding a bathtub meltdown.

She's Rather Blustery

At the dinner table the other night:

Bug: I have a windy butt.
Daddy: That's nice.
Bug: No, it's not!

Sitting on the couch next to me just now:

Bug: The wind in my butt stinks. That's why I smell it.

Monsters

Bug's got monsters. They're in her room. They come out at night. They're scary. Still, she manages to strip off her jammies. She'll come out for the third time -- the first to give me the hug and kiss she forgot, the second to go potty -- and inform me that the monster is keeping her awake.

For a while, telling her that Boohbah would protect her from the monsters was enough to ease her back to her bed. Now, not so much. I suppose protection from monsters means the monsters are still about, which is pretty scary even for big girls. This morning she pointed to her ceiling and told me that's where the monster was.

So I told her that I did some research on the Internet and found a trick for getting rid of monsters. It's a magic Go Away Spray. She must have heard of this before, because she told me that it came in a white bottle with an orange top. She was happy to hear me promise to try to get some for her today.

Thank Jebus that WalMart sells spray bottles with orange tops! My crafty self made the following label for the bottle, and we'll see how effective it is tonight.

----

Update: Bug loved getting her spray, and proceeded to "clean" everything in the family room. She did, however, take issue with the bottle being seemingly empty, and that I put Scotch tape around the neck so that she wouldn't open it and let all the magic out. (Especially since it can't be refilled when it's dark out.)

She sprayed down her room. She came out to give me a hug and kiss, to go potty, and then to tell me that the bottle was empty (again). She came out to tell me that it wasn't working. She came out to tell me that the lion had gone away, so she didn't need the bottle anymore. (I told her to hang onto it just in case, and maybe it would be a good idea to teach Boohbah how to use it in case she was sleeping.)

It's been five minutes since she last disappeared behind her door. Surely she'll be out again to inform me that Jem is crying. I better go jump on that.

My Daughter, the Pusher

Dear Bug,

You're driving me nuts with this "no'ing." I realize I'm majorly to blame for making it so clear that this is a huge peeve of mine. You just love pushing that button, and you're wise to the timing. You'll wait till I'm holding Jem, nursing or finally asleep, to get all contrary. And the fun little phrases you've picked up? Oh, yes, you know exactly how to use them. "You've lost yo' mind!" is amusing, but when I'm annoyed, young lady, it compounds the irritation. But, "Say dammit!" That's just a cruel taunt. Goodness me. Like I tell your father, it's a good thing you're so cute.

It's the no's to potty requests that get me the most. Heading for a long drive, running errands, it's just a good idea to clear out the bladder first. Right? You're a smart girl. Can't you see that? I know. 2 1/2. Brutally stubborn. Part of me is inclined to think that you know how mortified I am by the thought of not having a potty available when you can't wait, that you'll have an accident in the car. It's another button.

Still, I'm not the only one with the button issue. You're pulling this at school, too. I thought maybe holding your evening dose of Dora or Maisy at stake for "listening" would help, but now I'm not so sure. You didn't seem fazed at all that you didn't have time to watch anything tonight.

What's your currency, little girl?

I love you,
Momma

Tentfellows

4:50. As in AM. She was awake and calling for me. She had been awake for a while, singing as she does. K said later she had been restless all night.

When I walked into her room, I didn't need her to tell me, "I have a big brown poopie in my diaper" because the fact was smellingly clear. I naively thought I could get her back to sleep after a diaper change.

It wasn't to happen, even when I lay down next to her. While we lay face to face, she kept starting random conversations, all beginning with, "Hey!":

Hey! I turn on the water at school with one hand and wash my hands.

Hey! I need to ride on the firetruck to get water.

Hey! I need a drink of water.

Hey! My hair is in my face. I need to go to the bathroom and get a barrette for my hair.

Hey! ...

Not to mention the touching. With her fingers. With her hair. With her breath.

Rolling over in an attempt to ward off further conversation was just as unsuccessful. Her assaults turned physical. She pulled on the hair at the nape of my neck and giggled. She sat behind me, leaning over to look at my face and squealed.

So much for making it to 6. At least I could nap while she watched some shows.

Now it's noon. She's went in for a nap at 11:20, but there have been only a few minutes of silence. She's been in there singing, calling for me, talking to Boobah, and making random squeals.