In our house, it’s always been the rule to refer to the Penis as The Penis.
Not as The Weenis. Nor as The Pee Pee. Nor as The Weiner.
Penis.
No cutsey, baby names allowed.
I remember one time when Andrew was about 2, he went for a ride on his little electric tractor with my little brother. Andrew was riding in the back, holding on to my brother’s waist. As they raced by, we all heard Andrew shout, “Uncle Tim, scoot up, your squishing my penis.”
My mom looked at me all horrified and said “I’m sorry, Y, but there’s something creepy about a child that little saying PENIS.”
I just rolled my eyes, because, UM, THAT’S WHAT IT IS. A PENIS. Would it really be better if he said “Weiner?”
Momma, please.
I’ll never forget the first time he asked about MY penis.
I informed him that girls don’t have a penis, but rather, a vagina.
Oh, how he laughed and laughed. He thought vagina was the funniest word he’d ever heard.
Later that night, I was taking a leak when I heard giggling outside of the bathroom door.
“Andrew, what are you doing?” I asked from behind the locked door.
He continued to giggle and blurted out “I hear you going pee out of your china.”
I seriously was going to make a point with this post, but now I can’t stop thinking about “My China” and I forgot where I was going with this.
Ha! Ha! Ha! “My china”

*****

Do you remember when I told you that my daughter was “part beaver”?
And I showed you clear and convincing evidence to back that claim up?
Well, The Beaver is OUT OF CONTROL, people.

I have no idea that I hadn’t noticed until YESTERDAY how bad her wood eating habit had become. I pointed to it last night and said “What did you do?!” and, as Tony is my witness, she walked over, put her mouth on it and STARTED TO BITE IT.
And people wonder why I REFUSE to buy expensive furniture with young kids in the house.
I’m not going to lie, I’m upset about it, because I can’t have anything nice. My kids always end up ruining it somehow, whether it be with a permenant marker, a knife or THEIR TEETH. But, I’m trying to have a sense of humor about it and saying things like “It’s JUST FURNITURE.” or “That’s what babies do!”
Right, because ALL babies eat wood!
In closing, I have no idea how this post went from “Penis to Beaver” but hey, at least I bring up The Tuna. (And trust me, I have a Tuna story to tell. Another day, people, another day.)

I spend a good part of my day kissing, hugging and squeezing my daughter. She’s not always happy about it, but it doesn’t stop me from smothering her.
Sometimes, when she sleeps, I’ll sneak in the room and stare at her. And I’ll think how I can’t wait til she wakes up so I can kiss, hug and squeeze her again.
I loved my boys like that, I kissed them all of the time, I cuddled them and I enjoyed every minute with them when they were little, but I truly had no idea just how quickly the years would pass, how soon they’d be “grown” and no longer my little baby boys.

I remember the day that picture was taken. It’s permenantly inscribed in my memory. That’s my first baby, Andrew. It was a warm day and we were just relaxing outside of our condo. Tony grabbed the camera and snapped away. My God, I love that boy and I can’t remember being happier than I was that very moment, right there, with my beautiful son. I was only 23 years old. Some would say too young to be a mother, but that was all I ever wanted.
To have children. To be a good mom to those children.
That smile on my face? That was real, pure happiness, because that little boy was everything I had ever wanted. And I was doing what I believed I was meant to do, the only thing that I believe I am truly good at.
Being a mother.
I had no idea at that moment, when I was kneeling next to the child I loved so much, the little person who brought so much joy into my life, that I’d blink my eyes and he’d be a 12 year old young man.
I knew he’d not be little forever, I knew one day he’d be an akward, witty, pubescent, zitty nosed, but totally perfect preteen young man, but I honestly had absolutely NO IDEA it would happen so damn fast. So fast, that it hurts.

Now, I have been blessed with another baby, an unexpected daughter. I am painfully aware of how quickly she will grow, how the days will turn into months, then into years. How one day, she’ll not want to me hold her close and kiss her all over because she’ll have friends to play with or games to play or skates to lace up and glide around the neighborhood in.
I know that day is just around the corner, so for now, I will kiss that girl, I will cuddle that girl, I will squeeze her and nibble on her sweet little cheeks every damn chance I get and I will be careful to remember how sweet she smells, how soft she feels and how very, very precious she is at every moment of every day that I am blessed to hold her in my arms.

The “Mommy meet up” turned out better than I had imagined. Normally, I blend into “groups” quite well, because I loves to talk to people and believe me, I’ll talk to anyone who’s willing to listen. I did feel somewhat uncomfortable and akward today around these women. It wasn’t anything they did, they were very friendly. I blame my vagina. She’s all stuck up today.
I don’t know, I just wanted to say “vagina.”
I talked to a few of the women, but I ended up wandering off by myself and taking pictures of ma’ girl. Not very “group like” of me, but I’m telling you, I felt… uncomfortable.
My favorite moment of the day happened when we joined the group for some “bubble blowing” fun. My daughter couldn’t participate because she still isn’t walking (almost, though!) So, she just stood there, watching and pointing. I felt sad that she couldn’t run and chase the bubbles like the other kids, because I could tell she wanted to so badly. My heart broke a little watching her standing all alone. As I watched and wept a little on the inside, the cutest little girl walked right up to her and smiled. Gabby got so excited, started waving and said “Hi!”. They just stood there staring at one another, smiling, talking baby talk. It was such a precious moment and as I watched, I realized that this was “one of those moments” that I’ll never forget, even when she’s older, I’ll think back on it and smile, maybe even cry a little, because, oh my GOD, it was so sweet. I’m thrilled to have been able to capture the moment.

*Kids of Katrina update*

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A couple days ago, I wrote about how captivated I am with my daughter. From the first moment I saw her, I thought she was absolutely precious. However, now that her little personality is shining through so brightly (cheese) I find her to be EVEN MORE beautiful. And you know what that means, right? That means I can not stop taking pictures of her.
As if the constant picture taking wasn’t annoying enough, I can’t stop kissing her and biting her cheeks. I’m afraid I’ll accidently hurt her. The biting has to stop. I can stop the biting, but I can NOT stop with the pictures.
Because?

Look. Her eyes. Her LIPS. Her Cheeks. DO YOU SEE WHY I CAN NOT STOP BITING HER?
I realize that I’m being incredibly annoying, I do, but, that’s the great thing about this being MY blog that I PAY FOR. I can write about her and post pictures of her all day long if I wanted to! And maybe I WILL! Gosh!
And now, to balance out all of The Gabby. I give you, The ‘Hawks…

What is that ‘do my daughter is sporting? Could it be a mullet?
It’s totally a mullet. And in combination with the Bang Cut I just gave her? It’s a classic, man.
Not as classic as The Cut I gave Tony the night before I gave birth to our first child. Oh man. If you saw the video? You’d hate me for what I did to his head.
I have a history of giving bad cuts. (Remember Snoops Hair massacre?) Don’t even get me started on the “self cuts” I’ve performed. One time? Tony came home from work to find me in the bathroom, crying hysterically, clippers in my hand, trying to SHAVE MY NECK because I had accidently cut my hair THAT short. He was all “What the hell did you do, woman?” And I screamed “I don’t know, but don’t yell at me, don’t you think having a BOY HAIRCUT is punishment enough? Now, will you please help me SHAVE THE BACK OF MY NECK?”
Poor Gabby. She’s destined for a life of Jacked Up Bangs and Neck Shaving, but at least she’ll be rid of The Mullet.