"Only say the word and I shall be killed."

There are two stories intertwined in this one post. I'll try to keep it from being confusing.

We're Catholic, I might or might not have said that at some point before. Llama and I have just started going back to church since I finally feel like I can sit through a Mass without crying and making a fool of myself. This was our second week back, and Llama was in rare form. She has allergies or a cold (I can't tell yet), she was out too late last night and up too early this morning, and church is generally difficult for a 2 year old. So she was in full Llama effect.

At one point, she threw her cup toward the back of the church. I didn't see where it went, and I'm pretty sure a very nice man either caught it or was hit with it. (He returned it to me, but I'll get to that.) I whispered, "That was a bad choice, now you have no juice." That was perhaps a bad choice on MY part, because in her anger at being juice-less, Llama ripped off her plastic necklace that she had chosen to wear and threw that too.

At that point, I was remembering how Aunt Dots used to think that when we say, "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you; but only say the word and I shall be healed," that we were saying, "...only say the word and I shall be killed." The fact that she continued to attend church and receive communion, believing all the while that she might at some point be killed as she approached the altar... well, faith is a strong and incredible thing, I'll just say that.

I was very embarrassed by Llama's tantrum and throwing of possessions, and I was wishing that God might see fit to kill one of us, and I was hoping it would be me. However, the necklace and juice cup were returned to me, and I apologized and thanked the poor targets. I hid Llama's stuff from her so that she would have no further throwing opportunities.

Mass progressed without incident until we were all offering each other peace, shaking hands and exchanging nice words. Llama took the opportunity to say, loudly, "WHERE MY JUICE CUP GO!?" How peaceful.

Neither of us were killed approaching the altar. Clearly Llama is feeling more peaceful, because she fell asleep in the car and I couldn't even wake her up for lunch. I know she's still alive because she's snoring.

A Fun Day at Target with Llama

On Wednesday, Llama and I went to Target for a few last minute purchases (we hosted Thanksgiving dinner for 17 people). It was mostly successful, until I realized that I'd forgotten the very important Wii accessories that were actually the real (and secret) reason for the trip. I mean, how would I entertain people if I only had one wheel for MarioKart and one motion thingy for the Sports Resort game? So I took the stuff that I remembered to the car and we went back in. I got distracted when I noticed Yankee Candles. (Sidenote: I'm often distracted, in case that's news to you.)

So I stopped to investigate these candles and sniff them to see if I wanted anything new, because I'm ridiculous in the candle-buying department. I dropped a lid, and Llama said... FUCK. And my first response was to laugh, but I managed to keep a straight face as I came up from the ground, and I looked at her and said, "That is not a nice word. I'd like you to use a better one." Yeah, yeah, she's 19 months old and she doesn't understand logic. Well, whatever, she'll never understand if I don't work with her.

So she again says, "Fuck." And I repeat that it's not a nice word. She starts pulling at the buckle on the strap keeping her in the seat, and yelling, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" I hustled out of Target with no candles. I got the Wii accessories later.

And do you know what Bucket pointed out to me yesterday? She was saying "STUCK." She does not like to be strapped in anywhere, and she proclaims that she is "stuck" all over the place. In the car, when she's being held against her will in places like church or time out... and in Target.

Good thing he translates for me.

It's all fun and games until someone throws up in the bed.

A few weeks ago, we set out for Great Wolf Lodge, with the intention of meeting The Army Guy, Frenchy, Z-man, and Wolfman for a great weekend of swimming and waterslides and family bonding. Bucket was less than thrilled, because he's usually busy on weekends and he does not take time out to go on waterslides. We left right after he got home from work on a Friday afternoon.

We drove for about an hour and a half, and Llama was super-starving. The kind of starving that causes her to shriek at me and throw her snack trap, because a snack trap is just not going to cut it. There is a dearth of resources on the Ohio turnpike, so we ended up at a rest stop McDonald's. (Note: I am not opposed to Happy Meals.) The line was incredibly long, they had about 3 people working, and nobody was happy. There was a man who said he'd been waiting for a chicken sandwich for 40 minutes. Nevertheless, we got some food and hit the road. (Another note: I used to be opposed to eating in the car, but when needs must...)

Llama ate nuggets and fries and fell asleep. The next hour or so was pretty nice. I started to doze off and... Llama woke up, angrily. So we stopped for diaper changes and running, but it was pretty dark and I don't like to let her run in parking lots in the dark. So I wrestled her little angry self back into the car seat with promises of swimming, which were met with smiles and, "Swim? When swim? Swim swim?"

The next hour or so passed uneventfully. Llama was sleeping again, and I called to let my brothers know that we were arriving shortly so they could meet us and help us carry everything in. It was fabulous. Llama woke up and was very, very, very excited, so we let her jump in the bed and run around even though it was 10 o'clock at night.

And then she threw up in the bed. All over herself, the bed, the pillows, and her blankies. Then she tried to run away from it because she's never thrown up like that before, and she continued to throw up. I finally caught her just in time for her to get it all over me, and got her into the bathroom where she got it all over the bathtub. Bucket, that very smart man, was already on the phone with the front desk getting new bedding and asking about laundry facilities.

There are more parts to this story, but I'm pretty sure Llama is calling Tokyo, so I should probably be done with it for now. Part Two: It's all fun and games until a random guy tries to convince you to get B12 shots, will follow shortly.

A Lesson in Animal Sounds

Llama and I went to a baby shower today. Of course, she tried to steal some presents. One of them was a barn shape sorter with animals, so my friend was doing animal sounds with her.

E: What does a cow say?
Llama: Moo.
E: What does a duck say?
Llama: Mwack. (Llama speak for quack.)
E: What does a pig say?
Llama: Shit.
E: I don't know that kind of pig.
Me: Laughing hysterically.

I have no idea how she made that connection. Of course, I do know where she heard the word "shit," and it was from me. It's time to clean up the ol' vocabulary.

A Photo Montage from Summer 2009

Set to music. Not actual music, because 1) I don't know how to do that and 2) it irritates me when I open a page and the music scares me and I have to scramble for the volume button. I'll just illustrate some lyrics.

The song is "Daughter," by Loudon Wainwright III, and I first heard it at the end of Knocked Up, while I was pregnant, and I sobbed.

Everything she sees, she says she wants.
Everything she wants, I see she gets.

That's my daughter in the water, everything she owns I bought her.
Everything she owns.
That's my daughter in the water, everything she knows I taught her.
Everything she knows.

Everything I say she takes to heart.


Everything she takes, she takes apart.

That's my daughter in the water, every time she fell I caught her.
Every time she fell.

That's my daughter in the water, I lost every time I fought her.
I lost every time.

Every time she blinks, she strikes somebody blind.

Everything she thinks blows her tiny mind.

That's my daughter in the water, who'd have ever thought her?
Who'd have ever thought?
That's my daughter in the water, I lost everytime I fought her.
Yea, I lost every time.

And now that I'm crying, I'll end this for tonight. The promised photos have finally arrived.

My daughter is already planning to leave me.

As I was making her breakfast, Llama was playing in the fridge. She had one of her pink storage cubby cubes next to her. I went to the fridge for cheese (you know she needs cheese on her eggs), and peeked in the cube. She had a bottle of ranch dressing, a bottle of italian dressing, a potato, and a cup of yogurt. I asked her what she was going to make, and she looked in the cube, then back in the fridge, and grabbed the cheese and threw it in the cube, too. I think she was packing her bag.

Then I was standing at the sink, waiting for her eggs to cool, and she grabbed my pant leg and said, "Daddy?" I said, "No, he went to work." And she said, "Noooooooooo!?" I've been demoted and it's not even 9am.

A plague upon our house

I'm not cursing us. We have already been cursed. :p

It was only a matter of time before Llama got her first sickness that I wouldn't be able to do anything about. It's just a cold. And I'm just the mommy who sits up all night with her, coughing and wheezing, sneezing and sniffling. She does not want her daddy. Bucket tried valiantly last night, but she just kept crying pitifully until I came in and took over. My poor Llama.

Not sleeping is very hard. Sleeping sitting up is even harder for me. I can't do it, Captain! I tried, I sat there rocking with my eyes closed, but I only got dizzy.

You might think that she would have difficulties with her lack of sleep, like I'm having with mine (the typos run rampant and I'm sure my grammatical construction is... not good... worse than normal?), but no. She is playing on the floor.


What's in her hand, you ask? It's a back massager. She likes it.

Poor little Llama. She even looks sick in pictures. Now I'm trying to decide if it's a good idea to call the doctor, because tomorrow is Saturday, and I don't want to fight everyone else with a sick baby to get a weekend appointment, or let it wait to see if she gets better or worse. Big decisions here in the Llama house. :(

Hello, Pittsburgh Poison Control?

Llama plays with cooking utensils, spices, and pots and pans while I cook dinner every night. She makes a bunch of noise, throws stuff around, and has a great time. Every single night. It seemed like such a great idea because she was right under my feet (constantly under my feet...) and not able to get into anything bad.

Who knew Llama had the motor skills to open the vanilla? Who knew she would drink and keep drinking the vanilla?

Not I.

Who smelled fresh-baked cookies and looked around for them before realizing her daughter was drinking the vanilla?

That'd be me.

I realized that what had been a brand-new, unopened bottle of vanilla on Sunday (when I used one tablespoon to make cookies) was now half empty, and there was none on the floor and none on Llama's shirt. She smelled like a really nice boozehound. I called my mother-in-law, but she didn't answer because she has a class on Thursday nights. I called Bucket, but he didn't answer his phone. I started to freak out as I read the bottle and realized that my vanilla was 35% alcohol. I did the calculation in my head and further realized that 35% equals 70 proof. And she drank half the bottle.

I did the only other thing I could think of. I called Poison Control. I couldn't remember the national number, but I could remember the local one. (If you didn't know, Poison Control started in Pittsburgh and the national center may still be located here, I don't even know.)

A very nice nurse there advised me that I should watch Llama for signs of drunkenness, feed her something sugary that she would eat for sure (a popsicle was suggested), and keep her awake for an hour to an hour and a half. Signs of drunkenness. Are you laughing yet? I wasn't last night, but I am now. So I stripped Llama to her diaper and gave her a nice green popsicle. Finally Bucket called me back, and I gently advised him to come home immediately before my head exploded.

He got home and found everything to be hilarious. I was not yet in a frame of mind for hilarity. So while I finished cooking dinner (of course I did not finish dinner while I was thinking my child was poisoned), he and Llama played on the living room floor. She was dancing. She was laughing. She is my child! She got drunk and danced around. College, here we come!

And then she ate most of Bucket's dinner and half of his dessert because he was holding her while he ate (she would not be contained any other way...) and she kept opening her mouth when he brought the fork to his face, so he gave it to her. Nice daddy. She finally crashed (and I do mean crashed) about 9:15, which is far later than her usual 8 pm bedtime.

And slept through the night for about the third time in her life.

Is it wrong that I have pondered whether vanilla would be okay on a regular basis? I'm so kidding. Have a great day, and don't poison yourself!