Wordless Sunday: Full Punky Brewster

She insisted on every piece of this outfit including the striped leggings you can't see. Also, she wore an Easter basket as a hat at the grocery store today. Her father was thoroughly embarrassed.

Fashionista

Here is little miss fashionista. Or at least that's what she'd like to think of herself as. Beezely McBeezlington has always been an opinionated girl to put it mildly. She likes to be in charge of everything: what she eats, whether or not I'm allowed to put her hair up, whether or not I'm allowed to sing in the car. You get the picture. Recently, this has extended into the realm of clothing. Now, this isn't an entirely new phenomenon. For about a year I've been required to offer her multiple outfit choices. "Do you want to wear this shirt, or this shirt?" And that was usually enough of a choice to keep her satisfied. But now that she is a bit older and can articulate herself a little better and remember what clothes exist beyond the choices I am presenting her with, she has all kinds of opinions about what she's going to wear. I introduce to you the dress-over-pants-with-mismatched-socks-I-look-like-the-random-kid-you-find-at-the-Phish-concert look.

The funniest part is that I actually brought her matching socks and she said, "No, I want different socks!" She also insists on wearing pants and pajamas that are too small for her even though they look extremely uncomfortable. I put an old pair of Elmo pajamas on her the other day that were bursting at the seams, and I swear she wore them just to spite me. She wants to wear a rain coat when it isn't raining, shorts in the winter, a sweater in summer, "Not that sweatshirt, Mommy!" God forbid that sweatshirt. You know, the only one she would wear last week.

Tonight she had to change her clothes for dinner with Grandpa. Her choice? Her super girl Halloween costume, of course.

Most of the time I really don't care, and I have honestly encouraged her to be a bit of a Punky Brewster, but I want her kooky outfits to look intentionally kooky. I don't, on the other hand, want her to look like her mother is a vagabond.

The head of our daycare, Kathy, was teasing me about her outfit the other day and then told me a story about her own daughter. She said her daughter insisted on wearing different shoes to school and would go around limping until Kathy finally just bought her several pairs of the same shoes in different colors. "You pick your battles," she said, "and different colored socks ain't worth fightin' over."

So if you see my kid walking down the street looking like a very small bag lady, know that I tried, and that, if she'd totally had her way, she'd probably be wearing just a tutu and rain boots.

You're Sick

One of Ella's big things right now is playing doctor, and she will frequently tell us that we are sick and that she has to check us. We are made to lie down while she shines her flashlights in our mouths and takes our temperatures under our armpits. She has to cover us with blankets and she especially likes it if we moan and stick our tongues out. Mike was lucky enough to be the recipient of some good old fashioned doctoring the other day. I had gone to take a shower and when I got back I found this. Apparently, when you are sick you need to be covered in several blankets from head to toe as well as stuffed animals, flashcards, and even a "grooby grabber" as she calls it which is one of those mechanical arms. The future of healthcare in this country is definitely in trouble if Ella B gets her hands on it.

Entertain me

During Hurricane Sandy our family was very lucky to have sustained no damage, no power outages, and no injuries. We did, however, deal with the difficulty of spending several days stuck in the house with a 2 1/2 year old who wasn't allowed to go outside. The weather started to turn on Monday morning, and my school, Ella's daycare, and Mike's office all closed in anticipation of the storm. Mike and I both had work to do so we switched on and off between Ella duty and work duty throughout the day. Ella was generally thrilled that we were all home for another day (mostly because it meant she could stay in her pajamas), but also because she had the two of us to interchangably entertain her, and entertain her we did. By 9:30 that morning she had already fingerpainted, played with Playdoh, played catch, changed into a tutu, and ridden her quad in the living room.

At some point she got into her bin of play clothes, and she kept coming into the office to show me her latest costume. She would come in wearing sunglasses, a scarf, and a hat, or her safari outfit, or her waitress outfit and announce what she was about to do. "Mommy, I'm going on a camping trip!"

I wondered how we were going to survive so many hours stuck in the house, but for the most part she surprised me with her new found ability to play by herself. This is a truly magical moment in the life of a parent, when you suddenly realize your child is not pulling at your pant leg, and in looking around realize she isn't even at arms length. You perk up your ears for a moment and hear the quiet nonsense noises of a little girl talking to herself. You quietly peer around the corner and find that there she is, nestled among her dollies, or surrounded by her kitchen supplies playing happily without you. You tiptoe away as quietly as you arrived and bask in the freedom of the next five minutes. You go to the bathroom, have a cup of coffee, watch a few minutes of the Cooking Channel, or make a phone call. You know it will end soon, but after so many years of doing everything with one arm, one eyeball, and one pant leg focused on her, you stop to enjoy this moment of not being pulled in any direction.

Of course, this doesn't last long, and before you know it you hear her yell, "Ready or not! Come and find me!" even though you never agreed to a game of hide and seek. At first, you can't find her, and for the first time you are actually impressed with her hiding abilities. After a minute you start to get a little nervous until you hear that unmistakable giggle coming from the bathroom. You look around until you see a tiny hand peeking out from the cabinet under the sink, and you are reminded once again that a 2 1/2 year old is pretty good at entertaining herself.

"Why that's an airplane?"

 It has finally happened. We have entered the "why" stage of childhood development. At this point, she is clocking a good 200-300 "whys" a day for sure. This makes my parents very happy because as legend has it, I was the queen of the why. I even had to stop going to catechism because all the questions were making the nuns a little nervous. And I'm telling you, I really don't mind all the questions. Questions in and of themselves are great and, really, I am happy to answer them. Here's an example:

               
                "Mom, why is that man outside?"

                "He's mowing his lawn."

This is fine. The question is straightforward, and I can easily answer it. The problem is that it doesn't end there.

               

                "Why's he mowing his lawn?"

                "So it will look nice."

                "Why it will look nice?"

                "Because when the grass is short, it looks neat and clean."

                

 Even up to this point, I feel confident that the questions and subsequent answers are logical and possibly even valuable, but it doesn't end there.

               

                "Why it looks neat and clean?"

                "Because...because when you cut it, it becomes more even and flat."

                "Why it does that?"

                "Why does it do what?"

               

 We inevitably end up in this place where we both sort of forget what "it" is referring to, and she gets frustrated because she wants the line of questioning to continue, but we've both pretty much forgotten what we're talking about.

                 

This is the part that drives me crazy. The questions that have no answers, like, "Mom, why that's an airplane?" Why is that an airplane? Because it's an airplane! How am I supposed to answer that question?! Ask me about God. Ask me about sex. Ask me about the meaning of life. But please don't ask me, "why that's an airplane?" because really El, it just is, and that's going to have to be good enough.

Wordless Wednesday: Cousins

I'm just kidding

Here is the conversation Ella and I had on the way home from school this afternoon after the owner of our daycare gave her two new dolls:

Me: What's the little dolly's name?
Ella: I don't know her name.
Me: You get to give her a name.
Ella: Give her a name?
Me: Yeah. What do you want her name to be?
Ella: Ummmm...ABCDE.
Me: ABCDE?
Ella: Yeah, just E.
Me: E?
Ella: Yeah.
Me: Okay, what about big dolly? What do you want to name her?
Ella: Name her?
Me: Yeah. What names do you like?
Ella: I like blue.
Me: Blue?
Ella: Yeah. Her name's Blue.
Me: Okay, E and Blue.
Ella: Yeah. This is E and this is Blue.

We both allowed some time for these new names to sink in and to enjoy the pitter patter of rain on the roof and the swooshing of the windshield wipers before continuing our conversation. 

Me: What should we make for dinner?
Ella: Macaroni and poop!
Me: Macaroni and poop?
Ella: No, I'm just kidding Mommy.
Me: Okay, good.

Another day in the riveting life of Jeni and Ella. Stay tuned for the next episode.

Pancakes for dinner

Last night, Ella B and I were fortunate enough to have dinner at Chip's in Milford with my girlfriend Wendy and her twin boys, Robby and Joey, or "RobbyJoey" as Ella would call them. It was a fundraiser for our school and a good excuse to eat pancakes for dinner. Ella B was surprisingly well behaved in her own two-year-old way. Besides refusing to sit down, bothering the woman in the booth behind us, and pressing her face up against the glass a few times, she was pretty good. Robby and Joey, who are five and much more well-behaved than Ella, kept saying things like, "Mom, why is Ella doing that?" and, "Miss Jeni, look what Ella's doing!" 

Finally, at the end of the meal, when I was feeling pretty good about that fact that I didn't have to drag Ella out of there kicking and screaming and that I actually ate my entire meal in a reasonable amount of time, Robby announced, "I don't think Ella's gonna be going to any restaurants any time soon."

It appears that Robby is a much stricter parent than I am. Luckily for Ella, she gets to come home with me.

Play dates, pools, and corn on the cob

Summer continues over at the Bonaldo house. Over the weekend we picked up our new grill and I haven’t turned on the stove since. Okay, that’s not true, but you get the idea. On Sunday, Nene and Pop Pop came over for a little barbecue and Beezer enjoyed her first corn on the cob. I guess that means she’s a real kid now. I also went to a craft fair in Milford with my mom and Kristy and we bought this really cute bird house that is all set up out in the yard, so if there are any robins out there who read my blog, we have a beautiful house all ready for you to move in to. Just sayin'.

The past two days have been full of play dates and pools. Yesterday, we were lucky enough to host a little get together with the lovely Miss Loreli Elizabeth and her equally lovely mother, Christina. Ella B was kind enough to take a two hour nap so I could visit with the gals sans toddler, attention-seeking behavior and then woke up happy as a peach and super excited to see the “baby, baby, baby.” We blew some bubbles, played in our “pool” (okay, it’s a lobster pot, but Ella B doesn’t know that), and I did my best to keep Beezer’s fingers out of Loreli’s eyeballs. So, basically it was a great visit for everyone and I was so excited I forgot to take any pictures of Loreli for posterity or the blog. Sorry.

Next, we ventured over to Jessica’s house for some pool time. We swam, we played with rubber duckies, or “quack quacks” as Beezer calls them, ate some cheese and crackers, and met a really awesome Portuguese water dog named Body.

Today we had a little play date with Gina and Bella. Well, we mostly had a play date with Gina as Bella and Ella do not realize that synchronizing their napping schedules would make things a lot more convenient for their mothers. Actually, it probably worked out for the best because two fifteen-month-old girls arguing over baby dolls can only go on for so long before something’s gotta give (namely, mine and Gina’s patience). But it sure is cute to see those little girls together, especially when they kissed each other goodbye. So adorable! I felt like quite the oddball with all the Italian blood running through that house today. So many tan legs, I felt translucent!

And yes, this was the best picture I could get of them. Those little monsters never stand still! At least you can see how adorable Bella's outfit is.

So, the week is shaping up nicely. Thanks to all my ladies for making it a good one so far! And a special thanks to my mother who dropped off a real baby pool today. So, Christina, you can stop laughing at me now.