A few months ago, Peanut began saying “Babu” and pointing to her pacifier. Apparently she pronounces paci as babu. At least one letter is right…. Sigh…. She also calls the choo-choo train ggggnnuuu ggnnnuu. It’s very gutteral and hardly vowelly.
But this is about Babus. Today we started The Great Babu Takeaway of 2010. See, Bean still sleeps with a paci. Yes, she is now 3 years old. But, I didn’t want to tackle taking it away from her while Peanut (aged 19 months) still had hers. We knew it was time for Peanut to make the transition, but we waited for a time that was good to wean them both at the same time.
We waited until school was out, major traveling was done, and no one was sick. Then, last night, I snuck all of the babus away and snipped a tiny end off. (The last sentence of this post will be read by Bean & Peanut about 25 years from now and instantly send them into therapy. Sorry, girls! Mama loves you! I did it for you, really!)
Let’s just say that going to sleep tonight was … rough. Peanut cried and repeatedly threw her babus out of the crib. She finally settled down. FINALLY. She’s still sucking on the broken babu in a sad and pathetic way. (Grandparents, please resist the urge to go buy new babus! She will make it through this! I may not, but she will!) Bean said all of her pacis had holes in them and she didn’t want them. She wanted a new one. I told her all of them were broken. I told her if she really wanted to suck on something, she could suck her thumb. (Hey, I did it for 7 years… no braces… no recurring issues…. well…) She looked at me like I was crazy and hollered “I WANT SOMETHING TO SUCK THAT IS NOT MY FINGER!”
This makes me remember a Bean story from awhile back. When she was first talking, she couldn’t say any consonant blends. So, letter groupings like st, tr, pl, or sh dropped the second letter. Truck was tuck, plane was pane, and stuck was suck. We were in the store and she was in the shopping cart. She didn’t want to be in the shopping cart. But, I had her buckled in. She wailed and struggled and in the most pathetic way possible she cried, “Mama! I suck! I suck!” She definitely sounded like a 2 year old with major self-esteem issues.
Another random Bean language story: When I was still preggie with Peanut, I took Beanie to Target to shop. We were walking down the aisle by the mens clothing. We were right by the mens PJs and underwear when… (Wait… I should warn you that this following story isn’t family friendly. If you are under 18 or prone to extreme propriety, you should quit reading. In fact, if you’re prone to propriety I’m not sure why you read my blog at all… Anyway….) We’re walking by the mens underwear when Bean hollers out “BALLS! Mama, BALLS!!!” She points at the display of mens bikini briefs. I could die. We don’t use that word for that reason! Then, I realized she was trying to point at the huge display of playground balls about 30 feet down the aisle. She had not learned inappropriate words for … um …. well… anyway. She only had inappropriate timing.
(Now that she’s read this 25 years in the future, she will be heading to even more therapy. Peanut will be going to more therapy because I didn’t tell stories about her. Even though I’ll tell her it’s because she’s not really talking yet, she’ll claim it’s because she’s the younger child and I don’t love her as much. Nothing I can do will ease their angst because I’m the mom and they are the daughters. Sigh…. I guess I should go put some money aside for their future therapy bills…)
Meanwhile, you can pray that these children sleep and ditch their babus quickly!
Today is our tenth anniversary.
Last year, we went out to the fancy schmanciest place I’ve been in my life for an anniversary dinner. It was fancy and schmancy. We had 3 waiters. One person’s sole job was to refill our drinks. It was quite lovely.
This year he’s taking me on a surprise trip. We leave tomorrow when he gets out of class. This will be the first time since Bean’s birth that I’ve been away from both of my kids. I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO THE QUIET! We will be gone on Beanie’s 3rd birthday, so we’re celebrating tonight instead.
That’s right. On our 10th anniversary, we’re going to…
Oh, the romance never ends!
RayRay, in my book, you will always be a 10. I love you! And, I love our family. We’re adorable, aren’t we?
Dear Spider Woman,
Please come back. It is most boring around here without you. And, you’ve started a trend. Since you abandoned me left, several other friends of mine have left. I don’t like it. Not. One. Bit.
See, I’ve always been the one who does the leaving. I say my goodbyes and can stuff my emotions waaaay down inside me because I have to focus on the move and the adventure ahead. I can choke back my tears because I’m about to board a plane or move to a new city or start a new phase of life. This time, I’m just here. And you’re not. And neither are 3 of our other friends. And two more are leaving this weekend. And then there’s some others leaving later this summer. And more in December.
Good thing I have Nat and NolaLady and JayWay and a few others whose pictures I don’t have handy. Or I’d go crazier.
But, if you come back we can once again let our kids play in the mud.
And we can go to the library and get cake in the cafe after we look at books and let the kiddos play.
And we can meet for after-the-kids-are-asleep Chili’s chips & salsa girls nights.
(Sorry, no pictures of that.)
Or, you could move on to the next phase of your life and be very happy and I will be happy for you while selfishly really wishing that you and a bazillion other friends who live far away could live in my neighborhood.
Once Ray Ray told me that he didn’t know where I’d be happy living. (I seem to find many things wrong with any place on earth…. because I’m a pessimist realist.) I told him I’d be happy living in mabLand. You would not be my next door neighbor because you catch too many bugs and snakes. But, you’d be one house over from that. All of my other friends would live in my neighborhood. And we would be happy as we all joined hands and sang “Friends are Friends Forever.”
Miss you much,
My Mama and Daddy are up in Hershey, Penn right now moving my bro. He’s headed to Chicago for the next stint of his medical training. I think he’ll finish with all of his residencies, fellowships, internships, and trainingships sometime in the spring of 2020. (That’s what you get for choosing to be a surgeon, Bubbie! Perpetual school!)
Ahem. I digress.
A few weeks ago I got to go visit my fam while RayRay was on a trip overseas. My girls love Chick-fil-A. So, I knew we’d go there at least once for them. Sure, we have a Chick-fil-A here in NOLA, but that doesn’t matter to them. They’d do a cross-country tour of Chick-fil-As if they could.
There’s two CfAs in my hometown. One in the mall and a freestanding one. We had to go to the mall one. Why? Because Bubba Hen (my bro) had a coupon for a free Spicy Chicken Sandwich that was only good at the mall. Sure, my dad would be paying for us anyway so it would be free no matter what, but there’s one thing you need to know about the Hen family: If you have a coupon, YOU MUST USE IT. Or a rebate. Or any kind of DEAL.
To make up for us going to the mall that did not have an indoor playground, we let the girls take their strollers and their baby dolls. It was rather adorable. Wish I had my camera. But didn’t.
After we sat down, Papa Hen (my Daddy) said that if we ate a good lunch, we could get ice cream. But, we had to drive 15 minutes to the freestanding Chick-fil-A to get the ice cream. Why? Because he had some coupons that were only good at that one.
Yes, we were going to drive across town to another franchise of the same restaurant to get $1 ice cream cones for the kids because we had a coupon. We could have gone to that establishment in the beginning, but we had to go to the mall first so my brother could get a free sandwich. After all, he had a coupon.
We ended up skipping the ice cream because Bean had an absolute kicking-and-screaming-on-the-floor-tantrum in the arcade across from CfA. *sigh* Next time, we will get that ice cream. And, we will not be going to the mall first.
I’m a barefooter. When I was a teacher, I kicked off my shoes and ran around in my socks most of the time. (Not barefoot…. it was a 2nd grade classroom. They’re cute, but do you know how gross those kids are? I was NOT stepping on any mystery items in that room.) Now, I leave my shoes by the door. So, I always have a few pairs of houseshoes around.
Yesterday I was cleaning out the girls’ closet. Old clothes into boxes, new clothes sorted. Old shoes out, new sizes in. Well, Peanut has a bunch of hand-me-downs from Beanie that she can now wear. Including a pair of house shoes. I gave them to her and she put them on. Bean got upset and wanted to know where hers were. “You’re too big for those now,” I said. She was upset and I promised to look for some at the store. “When?” she asked. (Patience is still being learned around here…) I knew that it would be next to impossible to find little girl house shoes in June in New Orleans (summer motto: It’s Hotter Than a Fish Fry!), so I asked if she wanted me to make her a pair. She nodded happily.
So, after they went to bed and we cleaned up the kitchen, I set to work finding a pattern. Then, I found some scraps of fabric and went to work.
The first pair was so wretched that I threw it into the scrap bin. Wretched, I tell you. It’s a good thing my camera battery is dead and I can’t take any pictures or you’d run away from this blog screaming.
So, although it was almost midnight, I started over. I had promised my precious girl some slippers! I was going to deliver! I dug out more fabric and went to work. The result was great! I was so pleased! I snuck into her room and put them down by her bed so she’d find them in the morning. And, even though it was almost 1:30 in the morning by this time (yes, the slippers gave me 1 1/2 hours of grief), I went to bed knowing that I had done something that my precious, wonderful, sweet, lovely, delightful daughter would love.
She tried them on, declared that they weren’t right, and threw them aside. Sigh.
Later that day, I showed her how to slip them on and keep them on and she wore them around for approximately 15 minutes before she had an accident and peed all over them. Sigh.
They are now in the washing machine.
Well, at least I got a good afternoon nap.
I have a nice-by-the-year-2004 Kodak camera. (Of course in electronics years, it’s an antique.) But, I’ve been having LOTS of trouble with it lately. I had a great little point-and-shoot camera, but it recently busted.
Now I need a new camera. But, I can’t afford this one:
It’s about $6,000. There are others. I can’t afford them, either. So, I need a basic point-and-shoot that takes good pictures and is small enough for me to throw in the bag and take to the zoo for pics of the kids.
Or, if you have a camera you don’t like, tell me that, too.
Thanks ever so much!
Dear Ray Ray,
You’re the best Baby Daddy there is. Thanks for loving our girls, playing Chase the Bear with them, building tents, setting up the castle bouncy house, blowing bubbles, reading books, playing on the compooter, telling stories, and tickling them.
I am honored to be your wife & I am sooooo grateful that my girls have a Daddy who loves them like you do.
P.S. We’ve gotta take more pictures. This one is over a year old! It’s the best one I could find with all 3 of you. That’s it. We’re getting a camera that doesn’t freak out on us all the freakin’ time and isn’t perpetually set to “Blurry” and we’re doing a photo shoot.
P.P.S. Happy Daddy’s Day!