At 20-months old, I can hardly believe the spirit and expressiveness I see in Averi. She squeals in delight when we hold her upside-down and tickle her legs. She has this hilarious, throaty laugh that is reserved only for JJ when he chases her around the house and rams her into the furniture. I stopped him the first few months he did it, but I have since given up. Because she loves it.
She’s like a trained cage fighter.
Let’s talk about baby weight for a minute, shall we? I’m not talking about the kind we all carry around for varying lengths of time after childbirth. No, I’m talking about the kind of baby weight that pediatricians like to refer to in percentiles. That stuff that helps us determine where our kids rank in comparison to the height and weight of their peers.
I took JJ and Averi for their annual checkups last Friday. And I have to say first of all that they should hand out gold medals at the exit for those of us who are stupid enough to schedule back-to-back appointments for two toddlers during nap time. This medal of pure gold could have an inscription that reads, “Silence is golden. Bring your kids AFTER nap time, you nitwit.”
Or something like that.
In case you’re wondering where I’ve been this week, I present to you this photo series to give you an idea. Basically, Brian has had a week full of 14-hour work days, so I’ve been busy as a referee, nursemaid, and the exhausted person who finds herself screaming things like, “Please don’t jump on the table,” “We don’t eat bugs,” and “PLEASE don’t climb the fence!”
Here are 10 Pre-Discipline Photos for your viewing pleasure. Note: These are just the photos I complied in the past few weeks. I could probably publish an entire book called Parental Guidance Suggested.
Well, since we seem to have a “crime and punishment” theme going on this week, I thought I’d publish the photo below for your viewing pleasure and for my parents’ inevitable disappointment in my parenting skills.
I have 4 observations.
You know what is a humbling experience for a 31-year-old man with a wife and two kids?
That knot in the pit of his stomach as he speeds by a cop on a rural, country route. Only to check the rear-view mirror and see him pull a Dukes of Hazzard move in the middle of the road—with flashing, blue lights and siren blazing.
…The frustration he feels with himself as he begrudgingly hands over a sir sandwich in exchange for that infamous, yellow slip of paper. (“Sir. Thank you, sir. May I have another, sir?”)
…And to see his charge written on carbon paper in plain pencil: “Defendant exceeded the posted speed limit.”
…In a minivan.
…On the way to church.
…With his children in the back seat.
…Ironically, watching a movie about race cars.
…And his patient, quiet wife by his side. Holding the defendant’s hand—and her tongue—because she can sense his frustration. And she knows it is best not to speak in those moments.
(One of these things does not belong.)
I bet if neurologists did even the most cursory study of my brain functionality—specifically my long- and short-term memory—they would find that I’m only slightly better off than Ozzy Osbourne.
Though, probably for different reasons.
I blame my dad’s genes for my awful memory. But I’m not so sure that Ozzy even remembers who or what he should blame for his.
Sadly, most of my childhood memories are lost to me now. They’re piled behind stupid movie quotes, annoying children’s songs and completely random facts that I never wanted to remember. Like the hierarchy of biological classification: kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species. Y’all, I didn’t even have to Google that. It pushed it’s way right up to the front of my memory. In that prime real-estate where my grocery list and social security number should be.
“It seems strange celebrating the fact that we are still married rather than celebrating 8 amazing years. But, by God’s grace, you are my wife today!”
These were Brian’s words in a card he gave me Tuesday night on the occasion of our 8th wedding anniversary. I chuckled as I read those words—though he didn’t necessarily intend for them to make me laugh. Perhaps I found it humorous because he’s so right. Neither of us expected to make it this far. These past 8 years have not exactly been a Disney movie.
Guyyyyyyyys, WHERE have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!
[Huh? Wait a minute…SHE'S the one who didn't post anything for a week! So, why is she looking for us?]
I’m confused. Have you been looking for me?
[Why does she keep having these stupid conversations with herself?]
Have y’all seen my medication lately?