Say cheese.

 What do you do when you're only halfway through your errands but the toddler decides she's done with the carseat? Photo shoot in the car- because that's how we roll. ;)

Looking back at our photos from the past year, I must admit. This is not the first time this has happened.

Tipping.

Okay No. Maybe I don't understand tipping. Maybe I'm cheap. Call me jaded. I don't care, but don't ask me to pre-tip for a service that I'm already paying for.

I have, for the first time in my entire life, ordered the newspaper to be delivered. Not the daily paper, just the Sunday beast. The one with all the lovely coupons and comics in it. News? News I can get online.

I sign up for the paper. They tell me what it'll cost. With the promo code I have it works out at $1 a week, which is nice because with tax the paper cost me $2.14 at the mall last week. A dollar I can swing. But what's with the empty little box at the bottom of the page asking me to insert an amount as a tip for my carrier. What am I tipping them for? I'm ordering delivery service. I pay their boss, their boss pays them. Are they going to bring the newspaper to my door, say hi and tell me they like the way the poison ivy compliments the petunias in my planter out front? No. I do not think they will. More likely than not, I will retrieve my paper from a puddle in the middle of the driveway.

If for some reason I find my paper carrier to be of exemplary character and exceedingly apt at paper delivery I may find myself compelled to tip at Christmas, perhaps. (If you're my paper carrier I wouldn't get your hopes up. It's not like I'm getting a paper everyday of the week here.)

Hair stylist If I like the way my hair looks and you didn't make me feel like I was wasting your time then yes I will tip you, but only $3 or $4 because I'm cheap.

Cabbie Unless you sped through traffic for me, gave me suggestions for a good place to eat or otherwise improved my day then no. No tip for you. I've paid for your gas and your time. Why should I tip?

Waitress I have a toddler. You can expect that I will always tip 20% even though I really don't want to. If you were really nice you may get more. If I want to make a point about how rude you were I will leave 10 -15% (isn't it strange that we feel like less is more insulting than leaving nothing at all... as if leaving nothing reflects badly on ourselves whereas a lower amount hopefully leaves an impression?)

Bartender You'd better hope my husband is ordering the drinks because unless you flipped the bottle over your head and generally re-enacted the scene from Cocktail, then I will never tip.

Okay, little rage vent there. Back to actually doing something with my day. :D

19 months later...

As previously mentioned, Jessica's 18 month well-baby check fell much closer to 19 months, but as long as she's healthy and happy no one really cares right?

So here's the stats:

22.9 lbs (that puts her in the 25th percentile)

32 inches tall (50th percentile)

umm head size... somewhere on a notepad in Mark's phone, but I remember she said it was the 50th percentile too. So a very average sized noggin.

The height is the one that gets me! 32 inches?! When did that happen? I've noticed her pants all getting shorter but still.... she's almost 3ft tall! Go baby, Go!

She was a total trooper with her injections as well. Of course she cried when she was jagged, afterall, who wouldn't? Especially when you weren't exactly TOLD what was about to happen. I held her so Daddy could be the good guy and cuddle her afterwards. She cuddled Daddy for a minute and then all was either forgiven or forgotten and she wanted me to make it better. I held her for a minute, we gave her a sippy cup of milk and the tears were gone. By the time we hit reception on the way out the tiny tear tracks on her cheeks were the only give away that she was ever distressed.

She's still not much of a chatterbox, well, she's started chatting but we don't get real words most of the time. She does have a few words that she uses regularly, with BALL being her current favourite. She points out balls everywhere. Those big red ones outside Target? Yup. Little tiny round rocks? Yup those are balls too. She's loving balloons, inflated, deflated, torn into pieces. It doesn't matter (and yeah - they're called balls too.) Her favourite past time is hanging out on the deck, throwing balls off the side and begging you to retrieve them for her (a game she invented with Iain during his visit - thanks a lot Iain!) She's changing so fast these days... it's kind of scary how fast she's creeping up on TWO!!

Friday Confessional

I'm linking up with my super sweet mama friend over at Life With Busy Bea this week for her new Friday Confessionals series.


Why? Is there something particular I'm super keen to confess to? No. Not really. I'd rather not admit to making my daughter so angry that she threw up. However, Ashley's going on her first multi-day trip away without her baby this weekend so I figure the least I can do is help distract her a bit!

This morning started out a very different speed than normal. Jessica's belated 18 month well baby check was scheduled for 10am and since it would entail shots I kindly demanded that Mark accompany me for moral support and child control. So after a leisurely paced morning, during which I actually got to have a shower, we headed out to Raleigh to see the doctor.

Our doctor is lovely. I'm incredibly happy I decided to go with a family practice rather than a dedicated pediatrican. Example: Dr. Burkehead was busy praising Jessie when I absent mindedly started scratching the allergic reaction/bug buffet that I like to refer to as my skin. She took one look at me and insisted on writing me a duplicate prescription for more steroids. See, there are benefits to sharing a doc. No second appointment required, no additional copay, just a little bit of common sense.

Yes, I'm getting sidetracked. Fess up. Why was my daughter so angry she puked? Well....

The weather is gorgeous today, 55 degrees (12c) and overcast.  It's due to be back up in the 80's by Monday but I'm pulling out my hoodies, jeans and pretending that fall is here. After dropping Mark off at work Jessica and I headed to Target. There's a little pair of brown boots there... I saw them a couple months ago and decided that I'd get them for Jessica as soon as the weather changed. Sadly, they only had them in a 5 and even though she has a pair of 5's in her closet that look like clown shoes these 5's would barely go on. (Is it really asking so much for them to standardize toddler shoe sizes?!) Well, there was a fluffy purple pair that she loved but purple won't match her wardrobe filled with pink and brown... so I made her take them off and leave them behind. I'm so cruel. No little girl should ever be denied purple fluffy boots! I digress. We stop at Wendy's on the way home a grab a frosty and fries, which we share. (She had two injections today I think she deserves a tiny bit of chocolate. - nb. Today was the first time she has actually shown any interest in chocolate! In other words, it only took her 575 days to equate awesome with chocolate.)

We get home and for once I'm actually eager to chase her around out on the deck. Fabulous weather and all that. Wait. I need to get her into some tights first. I <3 baby tights. If I could have a collection of cotton tights like my daughter I'd be in heaven. She's NEVER taken issue to tights before. Why should it be any different now? *ahem* because she's nearing 2 that's why. To hear my daughter you'd think I was trying to amputate with a rusty saw (and I'm sure my neighbors did hear since I promptly opened all the windows when we got home.)

After some very vocal debating, the tights are on. She's squalling. I'm refusing to take them off. They're cute! She's screaming. But they're so adorable! She's screeching. but Babeee!! She's throwing up. Okay. Tights are coming off. :(

I'm sorry that I made you puke for my own sense of fashion Babybear. (but I can't promise that I won't try to put you in tights again tomorrow.... ;)

I am thankful.

Nature and I have had an uneasy relationship this past week and occasionally I've felt myself spiraling into a personal pity party. I've realized that I need to wake up and realize how bad things could be. Mumbling these things to myself is one thing, but putting pen to paper (figuratively) is entirely different. So here goes.

I'm thankful for the poison ivy rashes that are on my arms and my chest. I've seen pictures online and I could have been seriously unlucky and swollen my eye shut, covered my face, or, heaven forbid spots all over my back where I couldn't reach it even if I tried!

I'm thankful I'm only mildly allergic to poison ivy. I can still breathe and I didn't swell up the size of a house.

I'm thankful that I have insurance. It still cost a pretty penny (or two) but I was able to afford a trip to Urgent Care to get a shot to calm things down.

I'm thankful that I only have 46 mosquito bites and am not sick. If I lived in Africa I could get more than 200 every night and with as much as they love me I'd have malaria by now.

I am thankful that my father can recognize poison ivy and saw how close I was getting to it before I tried to rip it out with my bare hands.  (I am thankful that my parents only live 3 and a half hours away now and can be here occasionally to point out things like poison ivy.)

I'm thankful that I finally have a yard to battle nature in.

I'm thankful I have a wonderful husband who will watch our amazing daughter while I go get my prescription filled and de-stress my buddy Starbucks.

I am thankful I have new wonderful friends, old wonderful friends I can count on and a family (extended and immediate) that I love and who love me.

and on that note, I'm off to wake up the wonderful husband and alert him that it's time to be wonderful so I can leave the house. ;)

Must pay more attention.

Multi-tasking isn't always a time saver....

I was packing up the bathroom, trying to drink a cup of coffee and BabyBear was playing with velcro curlers while standing on the toilet. All of these things individually sound like a recipe for disaster so, honestly, it could have been much worse.

I finished up the bathroom counter, convinced BB that, "No, the world won't end if I don't let you stand on the bathroom counter." and then retired to the living room to try and finish my coffee sitting down. Mmm coffee... Right? Erm. No. I take one sip. A second sip. Third si----ppfpfffft! What is that!?! Upon closer inspection there was a collection of bracelets bobbing in my cup. Thank you Jessa. That was tasty.

(and yes, that's the end of my post for today. Parents are arriving tomorrow and the U-haul shows up Saturday morning. I am officially out of procrastinating time.  Must ACCOMPLISH!)

Through her eyes...

In attempt to shake me out of my writer's block I decided to link up with another blog today. The Paper Mama's photo challenge this week was an easy one for me, I knew exactly which photo I wanted to use. I took this picture, almost exactly a year ago,  during our "what colour will her eyes be fixation."

ps. They're still hazel.