I like my kids.

Of course every parent thinks the world of their kids, but I really like mine. They're so funny and cute and smart. Is that uncool to say? Whatever. My children just happen to be entertaining and charming and intelligent. Not my fault. Actually, I guess it is, to a certain extent. Anyway. So I'm cocky. I'm fine with that.

As I've mentioned before, language development in babies/children just INTRIGUES me. I think that's why the 12-24 month stage is my favorite. Matthew has new vocabulary everyday, which is always hilarious to discover. The other week I was changing his diaper and said, "Oh, Matty. You pooped a lot!" To which he replied, "Teenky. P-U!" Today he found Ellie's Princess wallet and said to me, "Pincess. Munny. Ayee's." (Translated - This is Ellie's Princess wallet with money in it.)

He has decided that he likes the word "butt." He likes to point his own out, as well as other family members'. Ellie and I were singing hokey pokey in the car, and he kept making us sing, "You put your butt in, you put your butt out, you put your butt in, and you shake it all about." If we continued on to the doing the hokey pokey part, he'd protest. So we sang the butt part over and over about 17 times.

I taught him the word "bangu" for farting because he thinks farting is hilarious. (I also taught him to say "excuse me" when he farts, by the way.) At first he kept calling it "poo poo." I don't know if he made the connection between passing gas and pooping, but anytime someone would fart, he'd point to them, giggle, and say "poo poo." Once he was sitting next to me when my stomach gurgled. He pointed to my tummy and said, "Baby poo poo." But now he says "bakoo" and differentiates between it and pooping.

Ellie, who's a talking maniac, cracks me up because of the things she says that are just not 3-year old appropriate. Not that she says inappropriate things, but some days I swear she's 16. She's picked up on using the words "like," "so..." and "well." Well, in particular, she's using at the beginning of EVERY sentence. For example -
Me: Ellie, what did you do at school?
Ellie: Well, I, like, played with Hannah and did painting and, like, a lot of other things.
Me: Did you have a job today?
Ellie: Well, Emma was supposed to be the door person, but she went home early. So... like, I was door person after that.
Me: Oh, what happened to her?
Ellie: Well, she was feeling kinda, like, sick? So... she went to the office and well, I think her mommy picked her up. But she should be OK. I think it's just a virus.

Yes, my daughter is well aware of viruses. Of course, it's not that impressive because she thinks EVERYTHING is a virus. When Matthew and she were barfing last week, I told her I think I'd caught the virus from her that she'd gotten from Matthew. She said, "No, but Daddy was sick first, so I think he gave Matthew the virus, then Matthew gave me the virus, then I gave you the virus." I asked, "When was Daddy sick?" She answered, "Remember? His muscles were all hurting? So... that's when he was sick, and he made the rest of us sick." (She's referring to his extreme soreness following the softball tournament.)

I told her this afternoon that Peter and I were going to be out of town for the weekend in a few weeks and that Sandy Eemo and Weenie Eemo (LeeAnn) were going to come and have a sleepover party and stay with her and Matthew. I'd been putting off telling her about it because I didn't want her to get upset, but she replied, "Oh! Well, I love Sandy Eemo and I love Weenie Eemo, so... I should be just fine." Then when I was telling Peter what she'd said, I also included her following statement which was, "I should be ESPECIALLY fine with Sandy Eemo." Peter chucked and asked, "Ellie, did you say that?" She says, "Or SOMETHING like that," realizing that I hadn't quoted her verbatim. Hmm... I wonder where that analness for accuracy in story telling comes from?

Matthew's obsession with balls and trucks delights me because he's such a boy. The only book he wants to read is his Trucks book where it just shows pics of different trucks and their names. He points out EVERY truck (guck) when we're driving (including pick-ups). He can differentiate between booball (football), beeball (baseball), and bakaball (basketball). He slept with his football last night.

Ellie is the ultimate Mama's girl. We've been just sitting and chatting for at least an hour everyday. We talk about all kinds of stuff. Last night she requested we have family talk time, just so she could chit chat with me and Peter (during which she decided to name the baby Aby the Baby). She's so interesting. She just THINKS all the time and comes up with all kinds of ideas. I love listening to her thoughts.

Seriously, aren't they cute? Just delightful. I'm so thankful for them. Here's to hoping that Aby the Baby will be equally fun!

Dread

You know what's the worst feeling in the world? Waking up with a sense of dread. What is it I dread? I wish it were something deep, or meaningful at least. Like, I dread facing the sin of this world. Or maybe I dread not living up to my potential as a wife and mother. Unfortunately, it is neither deep nor meaningful. I simply dread wearing maternity clothes.

Obviously, it should not be that big of a deal. Whatever - it's only a few months and no one really cares what I look like anyway. But seriously, for some reason, I just hate maternity clothes. I hate wearing them, I hate thinking about them, I even hate shopping for them. Why? Not sure. Maybe it's because I don't have that much summer-y stuff so I'm limited to the same 4 outifts that I rotate (which, in turn, makes me do laundry more often, which I REALLY dread). Maybe it's because I'm all depressed that my butt has doubled in size and stretched out all my pants. Maybe it's a bit of anxiety about what the maternity clothes represent - three kids, three and under, by 30.

Also, wearing maternity clothes makes you look more pregnant. For some reason, when you LOOK pregnant, people find it necessary to touch your stomach. Why? Not sure, but since I started wearing maternity clothes full time this week, a whole lot of people have been touching my stomach. OK. That's all I have to say about that. I hate wearing maternity clothes.

I'm more than halfway through now, according to my ticker. Craziness.