Substitute

Hi. My name is Holy Terror. I will be taking over your lovely daughter from time to time, without notice, and then suddenly leave as soon as I came.

Thank you.

Oh dear! What is up with the impending 2.5 year/30 month milestone? Are all kids like this? Please tell me they all go through this phase or I am going to wonder if my daughter has signs of being bi-polar. The tears! Oh the tears! The fake tears! The real tears! The throwing of items! The throwing down of the self! The anguish! The hatefulness!

and then the love. The “I love you Mommy” after 5 minutes of ranting and raving. I am not getting this at all. The biggest problem, I see, is that it’s making me go up and down with her (and my turnaround isn’t as fast as Stella’s).

Most of the time, she is a dear. We giggle together, we cook in the kitchen (smoothies after nap time is a current favorite), we take Scuppy for walks and run run run along the sidewalks towards the horses. But then we get home, 5 minutes past when we usually eat lunch and BAM! Psycho child.

At least we’ve figured out that most of the outbursts are related to when she has eaten (and of course, when she hasn’t) but sometimes we have no clue why the world dissolves in a cacophony of crying. Ah well. Maybe this is why this age was dubbed the “Terrible” twos – although I have word from playground moms that 3 was horrendous. Oh dear.

When you finally download your camera

You get photos from over 6 weeks ago – what a surprise!

The amazing purple smoothie. Made with dragon fruit (which really is neon pink).

The biggest dandelion EVER. (Stella calls them bo-lions. We have no clue why.)

Stella likes helping me cook, but she really likes helping me do the dishes, aka play in water.

We made a barn for Stella’s plastic horse. His name is Shasta. Funny… the neighbor’s horse is named Shasta too.

Making cake.

I couldn’t resist posting this, although I’m sure Steve would kill me. This is Steve getting ready to go into the attic to check out whether our wood rats were back (surprise! they were) or maybe it wasn’t rats and rather a large possum or skunk (it wasn’t). He figured he would be prepared if anything decided to jump at him… so he’s decked out in his full motorcycle leathers and his biking light. Awesome.

Finally, a bad parenting photo. We were prepping to go to San Diego a few weekends back, and planned to take off right at Stella’s nap time so she would nap in the car. We were a little late getting things together and Stella just got a little *too* tired. And yes, this is our kitchen mat in from of the stove.

Daddy’s Favorites

I mentioned to Steve last week about my list of Stella words (of which I forgot to include “libarbee = library”) and he wanted to offer his two favorite phrases.

“I dood it.” I do it. We hear this one A LOT. Steve has now started saying it too, especially when I offer to do the dishes, which he does every night without fail. “I dood it!” he’ll say, and I retort with, yah, but I give her a bath almost every night so for once, I’d like to give the dishes a bath and you give the toddler one!

“No touch a poopy.” This one is a bit more difficult to explain, but it practically makes us snort water out of our noses when we hear it. I think it must have started on the camping trip? I have no clue – either way, Stella seems to think that every sign, every written piece, envelope, mail, etc. that has large words/letters on it says “no touch a poopy.” Seriously, we have no idea where this came about. I can only think I must have interpreted a sign for he? But knowing me, I probably said that the sign read “Don’t touch the dog poopy” or “Don’t touch the bird poopy” or something ridiculous so she would stop whatever she was doing outside.

Oh dear. Let’s hope that when she DOES start to read, she learns a bit more phrases. Steve is really tempted to get bumper stickers that just say:

NO TOUCH A POOPY

Who wants one?

Overheard as of late

Stella sings in the morning if she has woken up in a good mood. It’s a nice way to judge how the morning is going to be. Singing? Good mood. Crying/whining “mommy?” plaintively? Not so good morning.

Overheard today: (singing)

“I not a baby anymore. I a big girl now” (repeat 3x) into:

“Mommy sleeping. my REAL Daddy sleeping in a big bed” (repeat 2x) into:

“Daddy the best in the world… daddy the best in the wooorrr-ld.” (I particularly liked the drawn out ending, like the ending to a real song.

*************

“Stella? Where are you going?”

“To the coffee shop. To get plastic lions.” Um ok.

********************

I work during Stella’s naps, and sometimes I let her talk in there to herself for a bit until she starts to get annoyed, usually because I am finishing up a project, a thought, etc. From her room, waking up from a nap an hour earlier than usual:

“Mommy? You done writing email?”

Stella Ruth = 2, Mommy = 0

Twice, in two days, Stella has bested me.

On Friday, we looked at the window at a gloomy day. It was very foggy (as most mornings are here now) and Stella was convinced it was raining. It’s not raining, Stella, I said, as we finished up her daily ritual of toast with cream cheese. However, when it was time to put on clothes and shoes for preschool, she insisted that she needed her rain boots. It’s not raining, I protested, and rain boots are impractical for preschool. 15 minutes later, we were in sneakers. Then it was, I need my sunbrella, I need my raincoat. No you don’t Stella, it’s not raining out. Let’s just get in the car and go.

We open the back door to the driveway, and guess what it was doing? Misting – very heavily. (aka in Southern California = rain). Stella screams “MAMA! It’s RAINING!!”

I don’t think she understands what smugness means… but I may have detected a bit of a smug look on her face when she looked at me with utter glee and cried, “GET MY RAINCOAT!”

Cut to: Saturday afternoon.

I must preface the story with: Stella has been asking for goldfish crackers for days. We have none in the house. I told her I had to go the grocery store and pick them up.

Today, Steve took Stel and Scup to the local trail/mesa/beach access thingy so that I could have a bit of a break, which, of course, consisted of me slogging through Costco on a Saturday afternoon in search of crab meat. When I picked them up at the end of the trail so they didn’t have to walk home, I asked Stella how the trail was. It was a good trail, she informed me. You went grocery store? Oh yes, I said. I got crab meat and raspberries. “Mama got fishy crackers!” she cried. Of course, because I went to the grocery store, I was supposed to get fishy crackers. This girl doesn’t miss a trick, as my mom would say. OH no Stella, I am so sorry, I didn’t get fishy crackers. That grocery store doesn’t have fishy crackers. Oh, she cried, but I WANT fishy crackers.

On the 5 minute ride home, all we heard was how much she wanted fishy crackers. In fact, we had a mini-tantrum when we got home because she still didn’t understand that if Mommy went to the grocery store, why weren’t there fishy crackers in the house? (I excused the tantrum a little b/c it was of course dinner time and she was a mess). After acquiescing to a veggie burger with cheese, yogurt, and broccoli, she became much happier. We all sat at the table, and Stella noticed my little notepad and pen. It’s the notepad where I make lists – and of course, grocery lists included. “I write?” she asked. Okay, sure. What are you writing?  “Fishy crackers.”

Yup. Stella was adding fishy crackers to the grocery list. Smart girl. Ugh. Bested by a toddler in 48 hours. Impressive, little one. Can’t wait until you are 13.

Words words words

I have another post somewhere in the ether about Stella and making un-birthday cakes last week, but I have been slow to upload the video that MUST go with it. Ah well. All in good time.

I did realize today on our walk home from visiting the horses (where else?) that I wanted to document some of the wonderful, but utterly wrong phrases and words that have come out of Stella's mouth in the last few months. I mean, let's be honest here, I should be happy with ANYTHING considering my dear girl didn't have but 5 words in January and one of them wasn't even Mama. Now, of course, we wish she was silent for a minute or two, but there is no going back...

Some of Stella's word mistakes, that I find equally frustrating and adorable:
Firefly = butterfly. This would be confusing if we lived on the East Coast, but without actual fireflies here, we usually know what she is talking about.

Ur-wear = underwear. I would get her to say "panties" instead, but I just can't bring myself to use the word myself. Panties. Ick.

Leabe it = leave it, usually related to dog treats. Scupper doesn't pain attention anyway.

Sunbrella = umbrella - and since it is never rainy here, it works quite appropriately

Uno, socko, sinko, says = uno, cuatro, cinco, seis. They have been doing counting in Spanish at her school, and supposedly, a few weeks ago, she had the whole thing from 1-6, (dos and tres included) but somewhere they disappeared, and cuatro was mistaken for socko, and well then, she just spouts this phrase off whenever I ask her to count things. Regardless of the fact that there might be TWO things or FIVE. Ah well. She's trying. I keep correcting, doesn't make a bit of difference.

my REAL daddy = this phrase has been coming up a bunch. Where is my real daddy? He is my real daddy, etc. I have NO IDEA where the whole "Real" aspect came in, but I keep telling her that Steve IS her "Real" daddy. This, of course, does not help the on-going joke that Steve has been doing since Stella was a small fetus in-utero, which was, "Well, I guess it's mine" or "Well, since she isn't mine, I'll take care of her anyway." I guess he initially found it funny because we weren't married, but now, after 2 1/2 years, it rears its head again when Stella tells me her "Real" daddy is home from work. The joke annoys the ever-loving crap out of me, but Steve still gets a kick out of it. Thanks Stel.

Rainy days...

Don't be confused. It's not raining here. It hasn't rained since May? April? At least. However, Stella is obsessed with all things rain gear. Like raincoats, rainboots, umbrellas. She wears her rubber rain boots around the house and yard quite a bit. Last week, it was very foggy in the morning and quite misty - enough that it sort of "felt" like rain. Well, not rain... but rain to a 2 year old. We decided to take Scupper on a longer hike along the flat Mesa near our house and Stella suited up. She insisted on wearing her rain coat, rain boots, and take her umbrella. I knew I would be carrying this umbrella most of the hike, but whatever, it wasn't worth haggling over.


We ran into some people on the walk who looked at her and were like, wow, she's ready. They laughed. Hey, what are you going to do with an independent toddler who lives for playing in water and doesn't get to have fun in the rain but 3 months a year? The fog was fabulous, the mist divine, and made the hike all the more enchanted because we couldn't see the end of the mesa.

And then I got stung by a yellow jacket and it was game over. But at least the "rain hike" was fun.

The funniest part (at least I think?) Stella, for some reason, can't say "UMbrella" but rather says "Sunbrella." Which couldn't be more to the truth, considering that she usually plays the umbrella during a sunny day.