Princess for a Day

This is what my parents do with J when they babysit. They give her junk food and let her wear a crown. Sometimes I think that they like it when I am not around so that they can spoil her. I am not a crazytown about food or anything, but I generally avoid Burger King. For my own sake more than anything. And I admittedly avoid all things princesses. I am not sure what I will do if J demands a tiara and disney princess movies.

J is now doing yoga. She told me that today as she did a wicked down dog. Then she apparently invented a new pose which she calls "baby dinasour." It involves scrunching up, making a "mad face" (which I totally copied from Emily V. and taught J), and growling. We do not do this pose in my weekly class, but maybe we should. It seems to get out the stress.

Then she ate jelly beans - see I am not the food police.

Dirty Little Secrets, Part II

First, congratulations to Michael Phelps.

Second, another dirty little secret - sometimes when I am sad I try to drink a whole bottle of wine by myself. Like alone on my couch. Because that is what people do when they are bummed out or something. Don't worry, no need for an intervention. I never get past one glass, and sometimes that gets dumped out. I have multiple open bottles of wine in my house, some may actually be vinegar at this point. I guess I only like to drink when I have an audience to make a fool of myself in front of. Like on Thursday, I wiped out in a dress and heels in the middle of the street. Nice.

Third, all boozing jokes aside, my real dirty little secret is that I would like to have another kid someday. I hope that I get to and I find myself envious of the couples having their second. But it is not in the cards for me right now, so we will see what happens. I am probably as envious of the coupledom as the second kid, but seeing those chubby lumps of baby makes me jealous.

Fourth, I still think my kid is awesome. But I suppose that is no secret. Here she is singing.

My Dirty Little Secret

To be fair, this is one of what is actually many dirty little secrets, one that has crept up on me and I have been afraid to share. But here it goes....I am totally sick of Michael Phelps. For serious.

I know, I know that is downright Un-American to say. And disrespectful to athletic accomplishments, the institution that is the Olympics, etc. I realize all of this, but I can't help it. I am over it. If I wake up, turn on the news, and see one more interview with his mother or sisters, I may boycott the Olympics until it is time for Track and Field. If I see one more article about how he eats 12,000 calories a day, or how he is the greatest athlete of all time, I don't know what I will do. I apologize, but I am done with it. Godspeed Phelps, win all the golds, and then we will talk about it some more, breath a collective sigh of relief, and move on with our lives.

M.I.A.

I know I have been missing for awhile. Just dealing with work, which has been busy, and life, which has been not busy but the same old same old. And that seems to be the problem.

I did look at my camera the other day and discovered some forgotten pictures of J. That was a nice surprise, so I figured I would share one. The picture of her in her rain coat is the older picture, and the one of her in her Elmo gear is recent. So you can see how much she has grown.

The other day I gave her a cheese stick, she wrapped it up in a napkin, told me she was going to work, and headed for the door. I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry. Then she informed me that she needed $40 to go to the store and get milk first. She also constantly is hailing cabs. It is a hilarious habit.