F'Real

Well, my baby is growing up. Penelope turned one three weeks ago. All of a sudden yesterday it seemed like she is no longer an infant at all but is turning into a little person. She all of a sudden was interested in walking with help. And then there were the things that made me look at her and say, "Who are you and what did you do with quiet, calm, no trouble Penelope?"

Let me give you some examples. Yesterday, all in one day, I caught her playing in the toilet, eating money (more than once), sitting on top of the coffee table with a pencil (lead end) in her mouth, standing up on a stool reaching the kitchen counter, sitting at the kid table coloring, and, after spitting up on the floor, leaning down and trying to lick it up. Gross! It made me think of that Proverb about a dog returning to it's vomit. What about a baby trying to eat their regurgitated lunch?

While she has not yet grown the horns and pointed tail she needs to be dubbed a toddler, she screams and protests enough to prove she has little nubs where her horns will someday be. (Horns meaning the mischievousness, defiance, and testing that comes with the older baby. Just trying to be funny here. Don't worry, I'm not calling my little angel a devil.)

Changing the subject. Saturday we were trying to quickly run an errand before lunch and were in somewhat of a rush. But of course, Jimmy had to stop and get a Mountain Dew at the corner convenience store. As I was sitting in the van waiting for him and trying to pretend it wasn't happening, I was reading some of the signs in the window. I can't remember exactly what it said, but one was advertising some sort of ice cream treat and it said, "F'Real! Ice cream..." This is exactly the look I give Jimmy when he stops to buy 44oz of Mt. Dew. Like, really. F'real?

One last item. The other day I was sweeping the floor and I was pushing around a small hard item which I thought was a rock. I swept it all over and collected all the nastiness and when I bent down to sweep it into the dust pan I realized it was a tiny ceramic baby Jesus that goes to a small nativity scene that Libby got last year. (We put up our tree and such recently.) I picked him up and put it back. I thought about how, if I was a cheesy sentimental freaky emotional mom, I would write a long blog about how if you're not careful, you can get caught up in the busy Christmas season and sweep Jesus into the trash. It would be copied into an e mail and forwarded all around the world. You would get it from those same people you get "Love you like a sister" e mail forwards from. But that's not me. I'd just like to say, simply, that if you have kids, be careful, or you might sweep the baby Jesus from your nativity scene into the trash. You have to look out for these small people who, although it's not their fault, try to sabotage Christmas and turn it into toys and presents. Let's keep it real. Like, F'real.