"Mommy, you're home!" they say in chorus, enveloping my legs with their arms.
Returning from an early morning doctor's appointment, at 8:40 a.m. their pajamas still on, as their cheery faces look up.
"What we doing today, mama?" Mo asks her familiar question as I carefully peel them off and make my way to the empty chair. Easing myself into the chair, I let out a subdued sigh. Twenty four weeks, and my baby bump has seemed to take refuge completely in my belly, my very large belly.
"We're heading to the zoo maybe? And then Please Touch! What do you think?" I ask.
"The weather's looking okay for now" Bry chimes in, the computer screen reflected on his glasses. "Weather dot com says we're due from some rain around noon. Do we risk the zoo?"
Again, I sigh, as I say, "Let's wait and see closer to go time".
Letting my head fall back onto the chair, I close my eyes. As usual, this morning, I woke a bit early in anticipation of this monthly doctor appointment, thus leaving me tired.
I try to rest.
I can feel the small body in front of me, even with my eyes shut. Opening my lids slowly, her face is dangerously close to my own, as she asks, "Mama, can I go upstairs? I need to get dressed."
Mo has a way of doing this most mornings. She seems content. Happily, she'll sit watching Sesame Street or some random episode of Bubble Gubbies or Electric Company, when out of nowhere, she'll jump up and declare the need to change out of her pajamas immediately. She'll pounce up the stairs. The sound of drawers opening and closing will commence and between 5-10 minutes later, she'll return, hopefully robed in matching and weather appropriate clothing for the day.
"Go ahead" I mumble, closing my eyes again.
Some days, Maeve will ignore her sister's odd request and instead, remain seated, milk cup in hand absorbed in her television viewing. However, on odd days, she too will succumb to the appeal of quick and immediate clothing change.
Unfortunately her desire to change cannot be accomplished without the assistance of yours truly, thus whatever I'm doing must be stopped immediately as I follow her upstairs. Together we scour her drawers for the right outfit for the day.
Two year olds are highly fashionable, well at least mine is.
Heading up the stairs a few steps behind Maeve, Mo's voice echoes, "I need some help matching please!"
I walk into her room to find her stripped down to her panties, holding her most favorite superhero shirt. Supergirl, Wonder Woman, & Batgirl emblazon the light pink shirt. If she could wear it daily, she would.
"What matches with this?" she gestures. Holding the shirt up for me to see. "I have to wear this super hero shirt today. I just have to."
Picking up pink plaid shorts, I hand them to her. "These have all the colors that work, babe. Put them on." Walking over to her bed, I take a seat.
"Yes!" she screams. "Perfect!"
She sits down next to me, as she sticks her legs into the shorts. I reach over and pull her close. Leaning over, I plop a big kiss on the top of her head.
"Dude? What happened to your hair?" I ask. Patting the top of her head with my hands, it feels hard.
"What do you mean Mama?" she asks, those big blue eyes look up to me.
Taking a closer look, I notice her bangs look frozen. Feeling the pieces of hair between my fingers, the hair is crunchy.
"Why is your hair crunchy Mo?", I hesitate before I ask, "What is in your hair?"
"Nothing mommy. My hair's fine." she pleads. Her own hands have found her hair. Running her fingers through the tangled mess, they get stuck and then she pulls harder. With a bit of added force, she finishes.
She continues the act, "There's nothing wrong with me hair."
"Seriously?" I ask. "Do not lie to me Mo. What's up with your hair?"
Mo looks to the door as her sister enters.
"What Mo do with her hair, Mommy? Her naughty?" Maeve asks.
"Go away Shine!" Mo yells, rushing to the door to push her out.
"Hey" I yell, "What's going on with your hair Mo? Maeve, be quiet."
" 'mkay mommy. I get dress. " Maeve adds.
"One minute Shine. Mo, What's up?" I finish.
She looks at me again, and mutters, "I'm sorry mommy." The tears begin to well in her eyes.
"Look, "I start. "You're not in trouble. Just be honest. What happened? Why is your hair like this?"
"Well," she breathes in, then continues, "I put milk in my hair."
"Excuse me? What did you say?" I ask.
"Milk. I put milk in my hair." She repeats. Looking back to me, she attempts to pass a smile, but my own stern face reflects the seriousness of the situation instead.
"Why would you put milk in your hair? Where did you do it? Why would you do it?" I go on.
"I don't know. I was downstairs sitting in my chair and just used my cup."
"Wait, when did you do this Mo?" I ask.
She thinks for a second, "Um, when you were gone. I did it in my chair downstairs when you were at the doctors."
Well, at least this didn't happen under my watch. Bry is the culprit of neglectful parenting on this one.
Go me!
Shaking my head, "Head into the bathroom kid. Let me try spraying some of that dangler into your hair". I say.
We just took a bath last night. This bump makes bath time a little more difficult these days. Leaning over the tub, most days, the belly gets in the way. If I can use a little spray to get things fixed, then that's what I'll do.
Squirt, after squirt I douse her hair with the stuff to no avail.
Brush, brush, spray, spray.
Nothing.
Crap.
"Looks like you're back in the tub Mo" I say. "Hop on in."
"But my superhero shirt?" she starts. "I wanted to wear it today."
"Um, you can still wear it. Just strip down and hop in the tub. I've got to wash the milk out of your hair and then we'll get dressed. Okay?"
"Okay mama." she says, taking off the clothes and heading into the shower.
Soap, suds, and some showering later, she's all clean.
Wrapping her in the towel, I ask again. "Um, why would you put milk in your hair?"
"I don't know." she says. "I just wanted to try it."
"Well, don't put anything else in your hair. Okay? No milk. No juice. No food, and by the way, don't ever try to cut your hair too! Got it?"
"Got it" she says. "Where's my super heroes shirt?"
We head downstairs as just as Bryan unglues himself from the Internet.
"So what's going on?" he asks.
"Just ask Mo about this one." I say. "But by the way, did you happen to look at her at all while she was sitting in the chair when I was out?"
"Um, yeah, why?" he asks.
"Just wondering. Let Mo explain."
Linking up with the fabulous Sarah over at Little White Whale and her Good Things Thursday:
"What we doing today, mama?" Mo asks her familiar question as I carefully peel them off and make my way to the empty chair. Easing myself into the chair, I let out a subdued sigh. Twenty four weeks, and my baby bump has seemed to take refuge completely in my belly, my very large belly.
"We're heading to the zoo maybe? And then Please Touch! What do you think?" I ask.
"The weather's looking okay for now" Bry chimes in, the computer screen reflected on his glasses. "Weather dot com says we're due from some rain around noon. Do we risk the zoo?"
Again, I sigh, as I say, "Let's wait and see closer to go time".
Letting my head fall back onto the chair, I close my eyes. As usual, this morning, I woke a bit early in anticipation of this monthly doctor appointment, thus leaving me tired.
I try to rest.
I can feel the small body in front of me, even with my eyes shut. Opening my lids slowly, her face is dangerously close to my own, as she asks, "Mama, can I go upstairs? I need to get dressed."
Mo has a way of doing this most mornings. She seems content. Happily, she'll sit watching Sesame Street or some random episode of Bubble Gubbies or Electric Company, when out of nowhere, she'll jump up and declare the need to change out of her pajamas immediately. She'll pounce up the stairs. The sound of drawers opening and closing will commence and between 5-10 minutes later, she'll return, hopefully robed in matching and weather appropriate clothing for the day.
"Go ahead" I mumble, closing my eyes again.
Some days, Maeve will ignore her sister's odd request and instead, remain seated, milk cup in hand absorbed in her television viewing. However, on odd days, she too will succumb to the appeal of quick and immediate clothing change.
Unfortunately her desire to change cannot be accomplished without the assistance of yours truly, thus whatever I'm doing must be stopped immediately as I follow her upstairs. Together we scour her drawers for the right outfit for the day.
Two year olds are highly fashionable, well at least mine is.
Heading up the stairs a few steps behind Maeve, Mo's voice echoes, "I need some help matching please!"
I walk into her room to find her stripped down to her panties, holding her most favorite superhero shirt. Supergirl, Wonder Woman, & Batgirl emblazon the light pink shirt. If she could wear it daily, she would.
"What matches with this?" she gestures. Holding the shirt up for me to see. "I have to wear this super hero shirt today. I just have to."
Picking up pink plaid shorts, I hand them to her. "These have all the colors that work, babe. Put them on." Walking over to her bed, I take a seat.
"Yes!" she screams. "Perfect!"
She sits down next to me, as she sticks her legs into the shorts. I reach over and pull her close. Leaning over, I plop a big kiss on the top of her head.
"Dude? What happened to your hair?" I ask. Patting the top of her head with my hands, it feels hard.
"What do you mean Mama?" she asks, those big blue eyes look up to me.
Taking a closer look, I notice her bangs look frozen. Feeling the pieces of hair between my fingers, the hair is crunchy.
"Why is your hair crunchy Mo?", I hesitate before I ask, "What is in your hair?"
"Nothing mommy. My hair's fine." she pleads. Her own hands have found her hair. Running her fingers through the tangled mess, they get stuck and then she pulls harder. With a bit of added force, she finishes.
She continues the act, "There's nothing wrong with me hair."
"Seriously?" I ask. "Do not lie to me Mo. What's up with your hair?"
Mo looks to the door as her sister enters.
"What Mo do with her hair, Mommy? Her naughty?" Maeve asks.
"Go away Shine!" Mo yells, rushing to the door to push her out.
"Hey" I yell, "What's going on with your hair Mo? Maeve, be quiet."
" 'mkay mommy. I get dress. " Maeve adds.
"One minute Shine. Mo, What's up?" I finish.
She looks at me again, and mutters, "I'm sorry mommy." The tears begin to well in her eyes.
"Look, "I start. "You're not in trouble. Just be honest. What happened? Why is your hair like this?"
"Well," she breathes in, then continues, "I put milk in my hair."
"Excuse me? What did you say?" I ask.
"Milk. I put milk in my hair." She repeats. Looking back to me, she attempts to pass a smile, but my own stern face reflects the seriousness of the situation instead.
"Why would you put milk in your hair? Where did you do it? Why would you do it?" I go on.
"I don't know. I was downstairs sitting in my chair and just used my cup."
"Wait, when did you do this Mo?" I ask.
She thinks for a second, "Um, when you were gone. I did it in my chair downstairs when you were at the doctors."
Well, at least this didn't happen under my watch. Bry is the culprit of neglectful parenting on this one.
Go me!
Shaking my head, "Head into the bathroom kid. Let me try spraying some of that dangler into your hair". I say.
We just took a bath last night. This bump makes bath time a little more difficult these days. Leaning over the tub, most days, the belly gets in the way. If I can use a little spray to get things fixed, then that's what I'll do.
Squirt, after squirt I douse her hair with the stuff to no avail.
Brush, brush, spray, spray.
Nothing.
Crap.
"Looks like you're back in the tub Mo" I say. "Hop on in."
"But my superhero shirt?" she starts. "I wanted to wear it today."
"Um, you can still wear it. Just strip down and hop in the tub. I've got to wash the milk out of your hair and then we'll get dressed. Okay?"
"Okay mama." she says, taking off the clothes and heading into the shower.
Soap, suds, and some showering later, she's all clean.
Wrapping her in the towel, I ask again. "Um, why would you put milk in your hair?"
"I don't know." she says. "I just wanted to try it."
"Well, don't put anything else in your hair. Okay? No milk. No juice. No food, and by the way, don't ever try to cut your hair too! Got it?"
"Got it" she says. "Where's my super heroes shirt?"
We head downstairs as just as Bryan unglues himself from the Internet.
"So what's going on?" he asks.
"Just ask Mo about this one." I say. "But by the way, did you happen to look at her at all while she was sitting in the chair when I was out?"
"Um, yeah, why?" he asks.
"Just wondering. Let Mo explain."
 |
| At least she's cute, and there were no scissors involved. |
Linking up with the fabulous Sarah over at Little White Whale and her Good Things Thursday:
