Our budding artist

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Ten's a crowd

Aerial shot of Lola in her crib.  Somehow, our little baby who slept with nothing in the crib but a single lovey, has grown into a toddler who sleeps with 4 loveys, her "soft blanket", her "Pat blanket" (so named because it was beautifully hand quilted by Pat Ipri), her "Amanda blanket" (given to her by Ms. Amanda), and 2 fitted changing pad covers (which she thinks are blankets and refuses to let me remove from the crib - therefore forcing us to cover the changing table with an actual blanket instead of the properly fitted cover - oh irony, how I appreciate you).  She knows who is to be in attendance in the crib each night and does not handle absentees very well. 

There is little-to-no room left in the crib. 
To the members of the American Pediatric Association -  I know this goes against everything you believe in.  But if you think this is the most questionable parenting decision that I make on a daily basis, you are woefully wrong. 

Taxes

There are few things in this world that make me feel as old as doing our taxes.  And yet I still had to call my Daddy for help. 

Angel

After a lengthy grocery store trip this morning, Lola and I were heading home in the car ...
Me: "that was such a great grocery shop."
Lola: "I was an angel"
Me: "you WERE an angel. You were so good while mommy and Lola did the shopping."
Lola (whispers): "I have butterfly wings".

Love her so much.


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Prunes

Lola was a bit constipated today, and we knew we had to take some action. Feeding most 2 year olds puréed prunes would likely be met with great resistance and fight. Lola not only wolfed them down willingly, but asked for another jar. And then another.


She ate THREE jars of prunes. Yup. I think that should just about take care of things.


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Miss Wendy

As promised (a while ago). . .  the Miss Wendy explanation.
When I was a little girl, I used to visit my Grammy in Florida and host my own pretend beauty salon for all of her friends.  I called myself "Miss Wendy."  There appears to be no origin for this alter-ego, and it certainly didn't pan out for her since my current idea of a hair style is a ponytail with some dried food holding the fly-aways in place.  Regardless of where Miss Wendy came from or where she went, she has been reincarnated in Lola. 

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Time Out

Here's how they work in our family.
Lola does something incredibly minor, but worthy of some good-old-fashioned-behavior-shaping (see, still using that degree in psychology!)
Mommy: "we do not (swat at friends/throw books/scream in the library/etc). If you do it again, you will have a time-out"
Lola stops the aforementioned offending behavior.
Lola: "time out"
Mommy: "No, no time out. You were a good listener and listened to mommy. You stopped (swatting at friends/throwing books/screaming in the library) so you don't have to have a time out"
Lola: (getting increasingly frustrated that she is being denied her proper time out) "time out!"

Mommy: "you don't need a time out. If you'd like a minute to sit by yourself you are welcome to do so."

Lola: (now full-blown crying for a time out) "tiiiiimeeeee ooooouuuuuttttt"

Finally I cave.  I pick her up and put her in a corner, still trying to convince her that it's not an actual time out.  She only quits crying once sitting in a corner. I think this particular discipline method may be backfiring on me. 

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