Mommy-isms (Just a few)

I'll have to have my secretary get back to you.

I love my Uncle Fun!

These chairs really should be in the kitchen...

The "Fray J Squat" dance move



Hey, where did my balloon go? I've been robbed!

In the last few days, I have bounced some child rearing questions off some of my girlfriends, and after brief discussions with all of them, here is what I have come up with:

Mommy-ism #1:
Unless your instinct says it's a real problem, we need not stress about progress--and we definitely shouldn't compare our kids to other kids. Easier said than done? Probably, but look around...how many adults do you see out there who are still crawling, eating their boogers or throwing food? (Fraternity boys are exempt as an answer--and it's a rhetorical question anyway).

Mommy-ism #2:
I told my friend Liz that I was a little worried that Frankie wasn't doing everything that she should be doing as listed in the What To Expect: The Toddler Years book. We spoke at length and concluded that although Frankie (at 20 mos) can not presently throw a ball underhand, she can, on the other hand, recite the entire "ABC" song so that still makes her brilliant and I'm not going to read that book anymore.

Mommy-ism #3:

Abbey and I have decided that if your child is crying incessently for some unknown reason (and you have confirmed that she is safe, changed, fed, not sick or harming herself) it's OK to turn off the monitor for a bit. I won't tell anyone and I promise that not only will she not hold it against you years from now, but she won't remember in the morning.

Mommy-ism #4:

We are doing fine as parents. We aren't perfect and we make mistakes-- but on balance, we are doing fine. My friend Patti and I have decided that many parents WAY dumber than us have managed to raise kids who can color in the lines and eat with a fork and spoon, so I'm pretty confident that we will get there as well.

Riddle me this...

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

I'm pregnant.

It was October 23rd and were having a nice, family dinner at home. I thought it was the perfect time to attempt another discussion about KT (Kid 2). Cody was vehemently opposed the first few times I brought up the subject of a second child because he was very content with just Frankie. He would say things like: "Why do you want a second when Frankie is so awesome? There is no way we will get this lucky again."

This last time I brought it up, however, he permitted me to plead my case.
I was good.
This is what I came up with:

1. I was not put on this earth to entertain Frankie. She needs a sibling.
His response: "What else you got?"

2. I can't imagine not having my brother to turn to when I need to complain about my parents. (Sorry, Mom and Dad. You know we love you, but sometimes we need to vent). Let's face it, no one-- and I mean NO ONE-- knows your parents like a sibling. There is going to come a day, inevitably, when Frankie is going to need a sibling who will really understand when she is seething mad at her Daddy, or when she has just had it with his idiosyncrasies. (She won't complain about Mommy though, Mommy is flawless).
His response to that one: "Umm...anything else?"

3. (This is where I got him). We're not that young now and I don't think it's fair that Frankie is going to have to deal with us all by herself when we're old bags of $hit.

It was a lock. I had him.
Now we just had to figure out what our next move was.

Did we want to adopt from China again? YES
Do we have 3-4 years to wait for a kid? NO.
Do we want to get on that roller coaster again? Not particularly.

How about adopting domestically or fostering to adopt? Hmm...both definite options... but then Cody blindsided me with a very interesting proposition:

"If we're going to do the infant thing this time around, why don't we just have one?"
I honestly hadn't though of that. At least not for awhile, but it was an option. A viable option. I knew I could probably do it and that everything down south was in working order, I just hadn't really considered it since Frankie. I honestly assumed we'd adopt again because our experience thus far has been so great, but what the hell? Why not? I'll try almost anything once. I was in. Let's give it a whirl.

We had no idea I was already preggo. That actually made the "trying" part kind of easy. I figure that because our China wait was so much longer than we had anticipated, this time we didn't have to wait at all. Oh, is that not how it works? Well, whatever--it made sense at the time.

Interestingly enough, things seem to have come full circle for the Coden family. Our original plan (some years ago) was to "have one and then adopt one, " and we tried--albeit for only three months-- but we did try. I'm not the most patient of people so when we decided it was time to start our family, I went see a fertility doctor. (Why not speed up the process?) We went to the doctor, I sort of lied and told him that we'd been "trying" for a year-- (OK, so it had only been three months, what's the difference?) he put me on some fertility drugs, I tried them for a few months, I got nothing.

During that time, I kept whining and talking about a baby girl in China and Cody eventually acquiesced saying we could start adoption proceedings. That was that. I was on a mission. In retrospect, it's a good thing we adopted first because the wait now is so long we probably never would have made it, or even tried. Frankie, you could have had a completely different life! Too bad...you're with us now, kid-- and if all goes well, you're going to have a little baby brother or sister to terrorize at the end of June.

Oh, and if you could wipe your dirty, sticky hands on that kid instead of me, I'd really be great with that.

The Return of Frankie...

Whoa...who said Puppa Steve could wear that stuff in our house?

Did someone say "tongue?" Here's mine!




I'll do a few photos with the hat and then it's coming right off!!



Um...I think the tights are supposed to go
OVER the spanky part of the skirt.
Oh well, I guess that's what happens when mommy lays the clothes
out and daddy dresses me. Go daddy!

"Hi, Floyd!! Hi, Floyd!! Hi, Floyd!!"


My first time ever seeing snow. I'm way into it.

It has come to my attention that Mommy hasn't sat down and written about me in quite awhile. I think it's been almost a month. That is unacceptable. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't she supposed to be using this blog as a vehicle to document my assimilation, growth and general awesomeness so I can, in turn, read all about myself one day? Looks to me like she dropped the ball. Whatever. Who needs her? I'll do it myself.

I'd like to open with a few comments about the OSU-UofM game of 2008. The Wolverines got crushed. It wasn't pretty. They got sent home in a bus that that reeked of 42-7. I would like to go to OSU. I think I can be a cheerleader. I look good in the outfit. It does not make me very happy that the stock market is in the toilet because every time Daddy opens up an envelope with a statement in it, he pronounces something negative about where my college money has gone. That is very bad. Out-of-state tuition is not cheap. Things better start looking up soon.

Right after "The Big Game" came Thanksgiving. It was at our house. We had 27 people over. It was awesimo. Mommy spent three nights getting the house ready. Daddy did a lot of schlepping--he had to bring in all the tables, chairs and "China." (That's funny to me..."China") Mommy went all Martha Stewart on the house so when she was done it looked like pilgrams exploded and pumpkins and gourds popped out. I saw her in our great room quite a bit fussing over everything. I think she is a little cuckoo about things being perfect.

Mommy and Daddy were pretty good about keeping the doors to the great room closed but on the Wednesday morning before Thanksgiving they forgot. I went in there and pulled on one of the tablecloths. THEY FREAKED. It was so funny. Daddy took me out of there and I went kicking and screaming. I wanted to play with the tablecloth and the China. (China...hee hee). I even threw a little tantrum. Nothing like some tantrum action at 7:30 in the morning. Daddy offered me one of my cell phones that they pretend is real and told me to file a complaint. So you know what? I did. I took that fake phone and I called a fake person and I walked all over the kitchen complaining about how much my Mommy and Daddy suck because they wouldn't let me play with the tablecloths and China. They didn't know what I was saying because I coded everything in gibberish, but I said some pretty bad things about them. They tried to get me to drink my bottle after that and I didn't do it. I may only be 19 months old but I know how to stand up for convictions.

Thanksgiving turned out to be a really fun night (once I freed myself from the hat Mommy made me wear). I had a blast with everyone and got lots of attention. Daddy made a nice toast to Mommy and included me because he thinks I'm great. We all partied and played and pretty much ate like we were going to "The Chair" the next day. I got to go to bed at 9:00. I also got to skip brushing my teeth. Rock star living.

I'm at a really fun age right now. I never shut up though and no one knows what I'm saying most of the time. I'm on the phone a lot and for now my conversations go pretty much like this: "Gibberish, gibberish, gibberish..." Pause for response from fake person and then I almost always conclude by saying "Bye" right before I flip the phone shut. I'm corgial like that. I love talking on the phone. I have unlimited minutes. What's your number? I'll call you.

I don't only speak gibberish. I say a lot of real words too. Following are the words I probably use the most: Hot Dog, Woah, Doggie, Up, Down, Phone, Keys, More, ByeSeeYa (all one word), Hi, Open, Close, Off, Yes, No, Shoes, Socks, Bottle, Banana, Apple (which I do with a French accent) and Let's go!!! (It's really cute when I do that one, people love it--it's a real crowd pleaser). My latest favorites are "Hi, Floyd!" and "Please" which comes out more like "peas" but no one can resist me when I say it and I get what I want about 85% of the time. Not too bad.

I know where my bellybutton, eyes, nose, hair, head, feet and ears are. I can say them out loud too (except bellybutton--that one is kind of hard to say). Nana taught me where my tongue is and I love when people ask me about it because it gives me an excuse to stick my tongue out. Sometimes when I'm doing something I shouldn't, Mommy will tell me to "Stop it" and instead of doing so, I just repeat "Stop it." I'm so mature, don't you think?

I can take a napkin and wipe my own face and when I'm done eating I smack my hands and say "All done!" How great is that? When I pet Floyd, sometimes I say "Nice...nice..." to prove that I'm petting him nicely. I'm VERY into Floyd right now. I ask for him when I wake up and as soon as we pull onto our street. One time we were at the grocery store and we walked by some toilet paper with a picture of a Golden Retriever on it. When I saw the doggie, I exclaimed "Floyd!" Mommy and Daddy were dying. Mommy started to tear up a little bit. She's weird like that sometimes.

I know almost all the words to "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and I'll join in anytime you feel like singing it. I can also do some of the "ABC song" but I'm a little lost as to the meaning of that one. I like the tune though and I've noticed Mommy thinks it keeps me from squirming when she's changing my dipe so I humor her...sometimes.

I guess that's enough about me. At least for now.

ByeSeeYa!

Puzzles

We are back from our fall weekend Up North.

The air at camp was crisp, clean and clear while the leaves were falling in the most striking and vibrant colors of crimson, butternut and pumpkin. The Michigan fall season is caramel apples, fresh donuts, apple cider and college football. I love it--especially Up North.

Our road trip was pretty typical (Floyd freaking, music blaring and Cracker Barrel stopping) except that Frankie kind of sucked. She whined and cried for most of the trip. It was distressing and nerve wracking--and honestly, quite annoying. We went through the "Do you think it's..." and "It could be..." while stopping briefly on "I wonder if she has..." and "It's definitely not..." My best one (as far as I'm concerned) was when I concluded that she might have been experiencing some growing pains because that same morning I went through three freakin' pairs of pants before I found some that weren't fitting like Michael Jackson's "Beat It" floods. (Remember those?)

Several hours of crying and one speeding ticket later, we finally arrived at camp where we spent the weekend hanging out, reading books and magazines, watching bad movies, taking walks, eating spears at G's (you camp people know what I'm talking about) and shopping in Traverse City.

Frankie had a great time wherever she was, no matter what she was doing...except in the car. UGH. Such a pain because there aren't too many destinations that are super close to camp. Part of what makes the weekend trips to camp so great is driving to surrounding cities like Kalkaska, Elk Rapids, Charlevoix, Petosky or Traverse City and seeing all the beautiful fall foliage. The only thing that can ruin that is hmmm....I don't know, oh wait--yes, I do! How about a Frankie freak-out in the back seat complete with whining and crying for absolutely NO APPARENT REASON!!

All was certainly not lost over the weekend. Not by a long shot. We had a great time in spite of the brutal car rides and I learned a few things that I packed up and took home with me: I learned that size 3 diapers can no longer hold Frankie's "overnight pee," I learned that there is nothing better than strawberry milk from Shetland's Dairy Farm (if I had larger veins and didn't hate needles, I would mainline the stuff) and I learned that playing with Frankie's toys makes me feel really smart. There was this one puzzle that she was into all weekend. I rocked at it. I have no trouble putting the tree in the "tree opening" of the puzzle, and I also did it with the apple, the bee and the flower. Frankie tried to put all four in the same opening. Nope. Try again, sister. Don't think I didn't shoot her the "I'm a smartie" look more than a few times when we were playing. Don't think she cared.

It's still a mystery to us what was up with Frankie and her car aversion all weekend. It was a puzzle I couldn't (and likely never will) figure out. We tried everything. We took her coat off thinking it would make her more comfortable, we fed her endless snacks, we sang "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" 1500 times...We did all the stuff good parents do but nothing seemed to help, at least not for an extended period of time. I felt like we were trying to put the tree, the apple, the bee and the flower all in the same opening. Her backseat bawling was an enigma and if she wasn't totally fine every single time we pulled her out of the car, I probably would have been really worried.

I had such anxiety on Saturday night about the trip home on Sunday. Three hours of crying to look forward to. Awesome. Rockin' ride home. Fun for the whole family. My anguish however, turned out to be all for nought. Frankie was a perfect angel on the way home. She was babbling and laughing in perfect Frankie fashion. I don't get it and at this point, I have resolved that I never will. I guess there are some puzzles that just can't be put together and sometimes you just have to walk away letting go because soon enough there will be another one to figure out.

Trick or Treat!

I love Halloween.

I have always loved it.

When I was a kid, my mom would decorate our house with paper skeletons and ghosts and all empty bowls would be filled and refilled with candy corn. Since my brother's birthday falls at the end of October, his annual party was--appropriately--a costume party, and that meant I was allowed an extra costume. (Bonus). It was tradition for us to start entertaining costume ideas early in the month. Costumes were a big deal. I have been everything from a clown to an ice skater to a dancer...one year I think I was actually Spiderman. (I'm not really sure what that was all about).

I'm fairly certain my mom no longer has too many of our old Halloween decorations and my brother, now in New York, has likely wrapped up his costume parties-- but that hasn't stopped me from bringing out the bats and plugging in the pumpkins. Homage must be paid.

On October 1st of every year, Cody goes to our storage unit (yes, the Halloween decor is kept in a storage unit) and brings home all the bins, tubs and boxes labeled HALLOWEEN. Our house is then transformed. Cody is in charge of the outside and he does a Halloween scene that can only be rivaled by the holiday window display at Barney's in NYC. The scene surrounding our front door area is classy and festive--even I want to go through the front door instead of the garage, but whatever, I'm lazy so I never do.

The inside is my domain: Halloween Central, USA. Pumpkins, ghosts and goblins...mugs, plates and placemats...candles, soaps and towels...mummies, witches and skeletons...tombstones, tinsel and bats...candy, candy, candy!!! No one enters without stepping on the howling mat, and no one leaves without a goodie bag.

I'm sure my love for Halloween is a direct result of my upbringing and the candy coated memories I continue to cherish. I'm also sure it's not going to fade anytime soon. (The owner of the storage facility should be happy about that). I have to believe that Frankie had a blast this past month with all the holiday traffic in and out of the house and all the partying, cookie decorating, candy eating and dancing she did on the big day. Of course I have no idea if, as an adult, she will love and observe the holiday as I do, and I don't know if she will be sad (or even notice) when she wakes up tomorrow to find that all of the decorations have been taken down and put away--but what I do know is this: There is a bunch of leftover candy in the junk drawer and a ton stashed in the freezer.

I'm going to get some.

Fateful Forecast

On Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, Frankie goes to daycare from 8:00-3:00. Cody usually takes her and I usually pick her up. When they were leaving this morning, right before they walked out the door, they turned towards me and Cody gently prompted: "Say bye-bye to Mommy." Frankie gave the double backwards wave and said "Bah Bah" in her cute little voice. I replied with "I love you," and Frankie repeated something that sounded like "Ah dah dah." And then they both closed with a new Frankie favorite: the Donnie and Marie Osmond hand-to-mouth "Ummmmmmm-Mwahhhhh!" good-bye kiss, circa 1976-- and Frankie reproduced the act with 1 cup exaggeration and 1 cup grandiosity. It was the perfect way to start the morning. All mornings everywhere should start like that, but they don't, and as far as mine go--as much as I wish they would go on forever like this, I'm no dummy--I know they won't.

Fast forward 15 years.

Frankie is getting ready to leave for school and springs this one on me:

Frankie: Mom... Emma, Isabella and Ethan are going to see the "Blah Blahs" in concert in Ann Arbor. We'll come home the same night. You don't know Ethan but he's super cool and he has a car, can I go?

Me: Um, let me think about that...oh, I just did--NO SHOT.

Frankie: Why not? Their moms are totally letting them go!!! (Probably a lie).

Me: Uh, Why not? Are you kidding? Do you want the first 100 reasons why not or just the top 10?

Frankie: I'm going to ask daddy. You are so mean you never let me do anything! (Also a lie).

Me: I know. Whatever. Drink your orange juice and go to school. Be sure to call your dad.

And then-- right when she is leaving, and she is FOR SURE still mad-- I will grab her attention by calling her name and I will throw down one of those Donny and Marie hand-to-mouth kisses and tell her I love her.

Bring it, Frankie. I'm ready. "Ummmmmmmmmm-Mwah!!!"

Full Circle

Today was my dad's 65 birthday.

A bunch of us, including Frankie, went out for Chinese food. It was a very special evening not only because we were celebrating a very special birthday for a very special person, but also because we went to the same Chinese place where we used to go every Thursday when I was a kid. This time, however, we brought my kid. It was not Frankie's first time at New Mandarin Garden, (it was actually her third) but it was her first time with my dad--and what better day for her to accompany him than on his birthday?

For many men, the 65th birthday is characterized by prostate issues, medicare eligibility, and hair that no longer threatens to clog the shower drain...but for my father, it was a day stacked with an early morning phone call from Frankie, a "Happy Birthday" message when he swiped his card at the gym, and moo shu chicken.

There aren't too many places around here that hold the same nostalgic memories as New Mandarin Garden. Most of the restaurants from my childhood are long gone and if they're still around, we certainly weren't patronizing them once a week the way we did this one. I love the way it accumulates and stores memories for me, and I love that the interior has been well preserved so Frankie can experience the establishment in the same regard that I did. I love that everyone is so nice to us when we are there, and I love that the food is always stellar. I love that there is never a wait to sit down, and I love the irony of showing up over 25 years later with a daughter from China (Did you think I missed the irony?)

But most of all--I love that I can still go with my Dad. I know we will visit again soon and it will be like old times. We will slide into our old booth, we will dismiss the unnecessary offer of menus, we will swap stories and relive anecdotes, and best of all, we will be joined by the newest member of my father's family, his granddaughter.

It's been 7 months with my family...

How fast does this car go? Can it get me out of here?
These people are nuts.

OOPSIE!

Hi Frankie,

It's your parents.

We love you very much, but we blew it.

We are sorry that we didn't know until this morning that you had an ear infection, but you never tugged on your ear or gave us any indication so we didn't even consider it as an option. We're sorry that you spent the weekend in so much pain. We're sorry that we had to give away our Detroit vs NY hockey tickets but it's not like Shanahan is playing for either the Wings or the Rangers right now, so WHATEVER. We're sorry that we were a little relieved when Dr. Molly told us that you had an ear infection because now at least we actually know what is wrong with you. We're sorry that we drugged you up over the weekend, but I have feeling that it probably helped a bit. We're sorry that we're very excited for all of us to hopefully get some sleep tonight even though it was very nice hanging out with you every 2 hours while you were crying and miserable. (That one is kind of a lie, it wasn't really that great hanging out with you when you were like that at 12:30, 3:30 and 6:20 in the morning).

We are sorry that we blew it, Frankie, but it's probably best for you to know this now:

It ain't gonna be the last time.

Love and all the other good stuff that antibiotics bring,

Your parents

Gangsta Teeth

Ever since Ms. Frankie Jade came on the scene, I have been told of the horrors of teething. I have, at times, dealt with a little dental discomfort on the Frankie front, but I honestly didn't know what the big deal was until today. More specifically-- until 5:30 this morning and it ended...well, it hasn't yet, and I have a feeling we're in for one of those "every-2-hour" kind of nights.

When Frankie woke up wailing at 5:30 this morning, Cody and I initially attributed her discomfort and unrest to all the crap she ate last night. We had the Otis Family over for Friday night dinner and it's no secret that our luck with them hasn't been the best lately (see Oct 6 and Aug 17). Nevertheless, we love them and Frankie had a great time. She played, danced, and laughed and--not long before bedtime--she happily snuck the m&m's my girlfriend, Elise, decided she needed, and also part of a s'more that I know she didn't.

Our gut reaction to the 5:30 "wake and wail" was that Frankie had a tummy ache. Cody was the one that ran to her room and when he came back, he reported that she was a bit warm, but he found no real evidence of fever. In addition, she wasn't pulling on either of her ears, her diaper wasn't full of Friday night's remains, and there was no barfing to speak of. We concluded that we were looking at a tummy ache--completely plausible and no big deal, right? I, for one, get tummy aches all the time from being "overserved" candy, cake and cookies. Frankie's a Coden. A tummy ache on a Friday night (or any night) is nothing new in our house. In fact, it's downright normal and we assumed that when she woke for the day she'd be fine. Not so. She woke again an hour later with that same, heart wrenching wail. Since I never made it back to sleep after the first time Frankie woke, I easily jumped out of bed with quickly moving legs, but also with a slowly sinking heart.

I knew I wasn't going to enter Frankie's room to find the sunny, happy, excited kid I normally find, and I was correct. Poor Frankie was a mess. She was crying hard and big, wet tears were streaming down either side of her face as she sat on her knees and held her arms up to me. No "Hi-eee!!" this morning. No "uppahh" either. Just a lot of crying and raised arms for Mommy. It made me feel very sad to see her like that--and very powerless.

After a few bites of breakfast and a second dismissed bottle of milk, Cody managed to get Frankie down for a short nap before he left for about an hour. After a very short nap, FJ woke up crying just as I was getting out of the shower. (Of course that is when she woke up. Is there ANY OTHER time?) As I held my girl close, clad only in the towel on my head and not much else, I started to worry a bit. I HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS WRONG WITH MY GIRL AND FRANKLY, I WAS STARTING TO GET A LITTLE SCARED.

The crying was out of control, like when she fell and hit her head a few weeks ago, but at least then I knew why she was crying. I had no idea what to attribute this to. It was a total mystery and I was (as usual) clueless. I held her and rocked her for a solid hour (still undressed and wishing I had taken a little less time in the shower) before I eventually had my stunning moment of clarity and gave Frankie some Motrin. HEL-LO?? Why did it take me so long to come up with that one? I still don't know! Am I an idiot? I guess so! The Motrin really helped. It was temporary, but it helped.

When Cody came home a short time later, I told him of my discovery and my love affair with Infant Motrin. We thought we were home free because Frankie seemed to be doing a little better, but then, with no warning at all, it wore off! What the...? ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME? This time I was the one out running errands and Cody was home. Cue the wailing and the tears--the Motrin has worn off! When I got home, we discussed all of the possible reasons for Frankie's obvious pain and abnormal behavior and Dummy Mom and Dummy Dad finally uncovered the enigma: Teething.

Who knew? Frankie has a lot of her teeth; in fact she has more than most 18-month-old kids. Who knew that some teeth hurt more than others? Who knew that some were big, bad, mean bullies? Not us, that's for sure. We didn't think teething was that big of a deal. It certainly hasn't been thus far. What do we know though? Pretty much nothing. We're the parents who actually "googled" how to piggyback motrin and tylenol. Yes, that's us.

Holding, rocking and keeping our girl close while doing the motrin and tylenol switch have, for the time being, seemed to help placate the thugs waging war in Frankie's mouth. I have no idea what tonight will bring, but we're putting on our camo and preparing for 2 hour intervals. Whatever happens in our house, at least the Otis Family can sleep well nestled in the comfort of knowing that they are in the clear. Try as we might, there is no way we can pin this one on them.

Afternote: We did consider the booze (and I don't even drink!) But we also considered it for FJ. The problem was, her gums were so irritated that she didn't want us, or anything else, near them. She found the slight Oragel rub and the Motrin/Tylenol cocktails to be so traumatizing that we didn't want to bug her more by rubbing liquor on her gums. Believe me, if I thought it would help after all the other stuff we had done, I would have given her a shot glass full of Whiskey, a straw and her own bartender.

Pointers from The Princess

Do you guys want to sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider?" I do.

"Down came the rain..."

Sorry, Grampa. I gotta go. I love this song...
and yes, I do need a spoon in each hand to make me dance better.

"Down."
Some Pointers from The Princess:

When I say "Uhpahh!" It means, "Pick me up," and not "I work in Greek Town serving flaming cheese."


On the other hand, "Let's get your coat on" really means "Oh, fun--Mommy is going to play chase with me, and she's going to do all the chasing!"


There is no such thing as too much "Itsy Bitsy Spider." Singing it 50 times a day is not unheard of, and much appreciated by me, The Princess.

"The Itsy Bitsy Spider" serves not only as fun entertainment, but also as a temporary stalling technique and/or reprieve from a potential meltdown or meltdown-in-progress. I actually don't have too many meltdowns because A) It's not in my nature, B) Mommy has no patience for them and C) I'm awesome...but sometimes I sneak one in just to be a toddler. It's my job. I'm sure I'll have more as I get older but until then, keep working the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" angle.

If I'm mad that you took something I don't need away from me, and I decide to pull your hair, you're not teaching me anything by pulling mine in return. I don't care if you're not pulling hard. I am the toddler. I do the pulling.

You know how in Synagogue no one is allowed to leave the room when the Torah is out? Well, that's how it is when the "Hot Dog, Hot Dog, Hot Diggity Dog" song is on. No one moves except to dance until the song is over. No exceptions.

Sometimes I still like to poop in the tub. It's not a pointer. Just a fact.

I'm 18 months old and it's still not a good move to put a barrette or clip in my hair. I will take it out when you're not paying attention and I will put it in my mouth.
You'll have a "Mommy feeling" that I took it out, quickly glance at my head and, as expected, you will find it missing. You will then have a total freak-out. (Note: The "Itsy Bitsy Spider" song does not work with Mommy freak-outs.) Your heart will beat very fast because you're scared that I swallowed it (I didn't). You'll then lodge a finger in my mouth, grab the clip and sigh with relief because it is now safely in your hand and not in my throat. I will then smile one of my huge Frankie smiles (completely unaffected by the recent exchange) and say "Hi--eee." I had no intention of swallowing the clip-- I'm not an idiot--but you might want to take a moment and ask yourself if the clip in my hair is really worth it.


Throwing bath toys out of the tub is great. I know I'm getting water everywhere. I know the bath toys belong in the tub. I know it annoys the hell out of you. I don't care because it's great. You can beg, you can plead and and you can order me can order me to STOP until you are blue in the face. I don't care because it's great. I love to throw bath toys. It's great.

Please don't mistake my amazing napping and sleeping habits as doing you any favors. I'm just tired. I am completely aware of what a great sleeper I am. I will, in the future, be keeping you and Daddy up all night when my boyfriend (the one with the tattoos and piercings) comes to pick me up and I break curfew because Mommy pissed me off two weeks before by grounding me for taking her car without asking.

Off white is not the color I would have chosen for a new coat, Mommy, but you bought it anyway. I'd like to wish you lots of good luck with that. Daddy and I have an over-under on how long you go before I trash it.

Tootle-ooh.
FJC

Hello....?

I need to make a call...

I'm dialing...

Hello, President Bush? Nice Work.
Things are lookin' real good out there!
I have to go call my new friend Lily now.
Bye.


In about 2 seconds, Lily, Rachel and Mommy will be
chasing me around this restaurant.

You can hold my hand-but you can't hold me down, sister!

Now, I don't have any idea who she's talking to...it could be her beloved Aunt Nancy who gave her the fashionable, pink cell phone-- it could be her new best friend, (and mine) Lily, who recently came to visit from Virginia... it could be freakin' "Hello Kitty" for all I know. What I do know is that my girl is all about the phone. "Blah Blah Blah" all day long. Yesterday she asked me for a text messaging package. I told her I would happy to oblige but good luck texting the following conversation that plays out in our house about 100 times a day:

Me or Cody: Ring Ring. Ring Ring! Hello? Oh, hi. You're looking for Frankie? Ok, hang on...Frankie!! It's for you!! (Hand phone to Frankie).

Frankie: Vos du? Abatahanee! (Throws phone)

Me or Cody: (Pick up phone). Hello? Hi! Frankie it's for you. (Hand phone to Frankie).

Frankie: Betasee Badu? Abaduwee. Gluh Gluh. Anatubah Dawah. Oh...Aratabee Noee. Bah!(Throws phone).

Me or Cody: (Pick up phone). Hello? Hold on. (Hand phone to Frankie).

Frankie: (Looks at the phone and shakes her head "No." --Whoever she was talking to must have really made her mad).

Me or Cody: No phone?

Frankie: (Takes phone and throws it).

Good thing we have phone insurance.