Other News

Thanks so much for all the good wishes. They were much appreciated and kept me going as I experienced some nausea this week, the likes of which I never had with Mer. Hmm...which is worse? Heartburn or nausea? I'll get back to you on that one. 

But in other news, life goes on. Here's how it goes.

What's the best thing about Daddy running obsessively at dawn? Donuts when he gets home.

Aunt Daryl sends wonderful packages full of random bits and bobs that are certain to entertain two year old girls. Meredith immediately puts on anything wearable. If you're thinking that the red netting on her arms looks a lot like those bags your tiny tomatoes come in...well, that's just the genius of Daryl.

And here's another dress up pic. There's been a lot of this lately. I've started asking her for fashion advice lately, and invariably, she's right.

They asked us to take this picture. Weirdos. And don't worry, their teeth aren't decaying. Their mouths were full of Oreos.

Siblings

I love my brother. He makes me insane, but I love him. Ahh...siblings. No one gets you like a sibling, and no one gets to you like a sibling. For instance, this past spring, I had had it up to here with my brother's failure to call me back. Everyone in the Sugg clan hates phones, but he was taking it to unprecedented levels. I was plotting angry speeches that would make him feel spectacularly guilty (right). So what does he do? Shows up at the house unannounced and says "Gee, I thought I'd just drop off these Golden Jubilee tomato plants that I bought for you. Since they had Mer's name in them, I thought you'd like to have them." Wow. Sweet, thoughtful, unexpected. Brother. [Mom, no cheesy comments allowed.]

To this day, my brother still makes me laugh harder than anyone else, and he doesn't even have to try. And it's always nice to be with him in a group, because invariably we'll notice the same things, raise our eyebrows at the same things, and laugh at the same things. Just because it's so weird, I'll share something we used to laugh about when we would spend the night on the trundle beds in his room. Anything could set us off, and I loved to go back and hit on the things that I knew would tickle him--certain words and phrases. He would beg me to say them again and again, and then laugh til he cried. So we started a list, and we would say the whole list before going to sleep (usually following my mom or dad's exasperated visit to the room where we were told to be quiet immediately or suffer the wrath). So we would say the list together, trying not to laugh so loud we got in trouble. This is for posterity--don't expect to get the jokes. Although, really, the word pastrami is pretty funny.

Pastrami, salami, mayonnaise, jacuzzi, 4041, 4042, sheep, contact, harty-har-har, rump, bump, goodnight.


That's how it went. Enough sentimentality. The point is, siblings are great. And I'm really glad that Meredith is going to have one, round about April.

Sunbeams from Kevin

I've promised myself I'm going to try to get some more video of Meredith, but even little miss drama queen gets a little ansy in front of the camera. Oh well. It's still good to have "Sunbeams from Kevin" preserved for posterity. You see, Meredith often learns about heaven, logically enough, at church. Also, at church, we see our friend Kevin, Nora's daddy. It's easy to see how things became fuzzy. I just hope Kevin can live up to expectations.

Quote of the Day

Meredith climbs onto the stool to wash her hands, and scowls down at her feet. She yells in an angry voice, still glaring at her feet: "HE GOT HERE FIRST!"

I ask, innocently, "Meredith, who got there first?"

"The other toe did, mom." That kid is bonkers.

Rainy Day

This week, we had our first rainy day in months, and Gigi took the kids to the Children's Museum while I took some pics of a tiny new friend--baby Josiah. I caught up with them later. What's cozier than watching the rain crash down while you're inside a museum? It could almost make one nostalgic for autumn, though I'm not ready to throw in the beach towel yet.

Mer would have made the menfolk of the fam proud with her serious fishing style.

The grocery store was not a serious affair. Gleeful, more like.
Here's the dynamic duo with Curious George.


And here's Mer, safely landing a FedEx jet. It was so real (cause it is real, just retired), that Mer had some tension about actually climbing in the seat and steering. It's not for nothin' that I call her The World's Most Cautious Child.

And just for fun, here's Josiah. Sweet boy.

Quote of the Day

"One thing about a pretend party...ya always gotta wear a cape."

Battle of the 'verts

This post has been a long time coming, and many of you already know the basics. But this blog is for posterity, and at some point Mer will need to know that I was aware of things like this long before she was a teenager.

In this case "things like this" refers to personality type. I'm an INFP. Ever taken that test? If not, the main thing you need to know, for the sake of this post, is that the 'I' stands for introvert. I am an introvert. My energy comes from being alone. Love it or hate it, that's how it is. I've moved closer to the center of the social scale since meeting my husband, because he is the poster boy for extroverts. And I'm glad I've changed a bit, because alone time is not something one comes by easily when raising a 2 year old, working part time, and living with the Laruski. But introvert I be.

Meredith and Keddi do lunch. Keddi ran conversational interference for me this week. I love my mom.

So thanks for indulging me through THAT selfish paragraph. The point here is that Meridy J. ain't no introvert. Good heavens, no. She wants constant interaction. One day I clocked her need for interaction. In a 3 hour period, I was permitted to sit quietly without actively communicating with her for a total of 67 seconds. That's right. One minute, 7 seconds. I could go for 6 or 7 DAYS without communicating and now I'm allotted 67 seconds.

Meredith explains something to a child she met 3 seconds previously.

An exchange which sums up this whole delicate balancing act occurred recently. In the midst of the barrage of words, I closed my eyes and went to my quiet place. I was aiming for a sort of mental reboot, gathering my energy to head back into the verbal fray. My eyes had probably been closed for 10 seconds when Meredith said "Mommy, please don't close your eyes." Taking the bait, I said, "Why, honey?" I should have anticipated her response: "Because I might be lonely."

Poor dear. Now, admittedly, I love my daughter's ability to communicate. It's fun, and funny. We can have some pretty good conversations. And as I've said before, I'm grateful that she's obviously not going to have to slog her way through painful years of shyness. But for now, she's 2, and not possessed of tremendous measures of patience. She doesn't yet understand the concept of interrupting, or the complex concept that mommy will be a better mommy if we can play the quiet game like we mean it, for just a minute or two.

Meredith spells out some explicit instructions for Walt.

So I'm presented with the challenges of finding patience and energy to respond to her needs, and maybe someday, teach her about personalities and needs that are different from her own. It's nothing more than lots of folks before me have done, so surely I can muddle through. Quietly.