You And The Dogs: An Intervention

Dear Laney,

Your love for the dogs knows no bounds. Your desire to crawl outside and poke them, pet them, put your hand in their water bucket and put their food bowls on your head is constant.

You spend a lot of your time standing at the back window, banging on the glass and yelling "ELLA!" It's just like that scene in "The Graduate," a movie you shouldn't see until you're in high school.

Today, you ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then crawled outside to pet Gus. Because you were mixing sticky jelly with a husky in prime shedding season, it only took about two minutes for your hands to look like they were sporting mittens. You got mad at me when I had to hose you off, but I'm starting to worry you're going to end up coughing up a hairball.

Tonight, I was driving us home from dinner, when I could hear your little voice coming from the car seat, whispering "Ella...Ella...Ella..."

Enough already with the dog love.

Or maybe I'm just jealous.

Love,

Mom

It's Molly Time!

Dear Laney,

This afternoon, we stopped by Virginia and Molly's house for a little play time.

You played with Molly's maraca. Molly drank your juice.

Molly played with your maraca. You drank Molly's juice.

You both get an A for sharing.

And at the end of the day, Molly offered to drive us home.

Those Tyrees are full service.

Love,

Mom

A Brief Intermission

Dear Laney,

Sorry there haven't been any new letters in the past few days, but things have been busy around here. Yesterday, your dad came down with a bad stomach bug that may or may not have been some kind of food poisoning, and he's been laid up on the couch for the past 36 hours.

Today, to get out of the house, you and I took a stroll down to check our mail, where I was bitten by the belligerent neighbor's crazy dog. We exchanged words, and once again I was reminded of the primal response that occurs within a mother when she feels her baby is threatened. It's like in the nature films when a mother bear is able to rip apart a van. If I were a bear, and this woman a Chrysler, she would be a few hubcaps short, is all I'm saying.

In between bringing your dad plenty of fluids and calling the police to report the dog thing, we've been too busy to blog.

Here's hoping this week takes a turn for the better.

Love,

Mom

Tasty Saturday

Dear Laney,

This afternoon, we went on a little fishing excursion, or - as you seem to consider these trips - Laney's Outdoor Smorgasbord Of Super Snacks And Tasty Treats.

Your dad wanted to try out his new fly rod. I'm sure at this point it goes without saying that he didn't catch anything. But you and I had a good time eating lunch and organizing the rocks and kicking in the sand and splashing in the water...and then you made an executive decision about where we should store your dad's slice of pizza while we waited on him to join us:

If you won't tell him, I won't.

Love,

Mom

P.S. I know I said that last night was as dirty as you've ever been, but I think you topped it with today's perfect storm of pizza, strawberries and river mud.

Good job, Laney bug.

Dinner At Cedar's Place

Dear Laney,

Last night, we went over to Brooke and Todd's house for dinner. We had a great time hanging out with them, and you seemed particularly interested in talking to their baby, Cedar. I think if some stranger was trying to climb up in the bassinet with me, I'd have the same look on my face that Cedar does:

I'm glad you wore your sturdy jeans, because last night you got just about as dirty as you've ever been. First, you ate heaping globs of guacamole, then you went crawling through Brooke and Todd's garden trying to catch up to their cat, Orangey. It was fun to watch you explore, even if I had to keep reminding you not to eat the grass.

After dinner, the adults played cards and you sat on my lap and dozed in and out of consciousness, refusing to officially go to sleep. Even when your eyes were rolling back in your head, you refused to be set down. What can I say? You like a good party.

Love,

Mom

Playtime at Brynn & Nate's

Dear Laney,

On our way home from our shopping trip, we stopped at Auntie Brynn and Uncle Nate's house. You got to practice walking with Nate, sticking your tongue out with Brynn, and you and I got to practice sitting around looking pretty.

I should also point out that this is the 250th Letter to Laney. Thanks for all the memories and milestones.

Love,

Mom

Picnic in the Park

Dear Laney,

Today, we went into town and had lunch in the park with Dad. You had your very own kids' meal from the Good Food Store, with a PB&J and animal crackers. But you had so much fun rolling around in the grass with your dad that most of what you ate were big globby handfuls of peanut butter and grass and jelly and clover and potato chip crumbs, held together by apple juice.

Dad gave you his bottled water, which you were happy to drink, even if you seemed to think it was silly.

After lunch, you and I ran to the mall, where you shrieked at the baby in the mirror in every store. On our way out, I said "Say bye bye to Dillard's!" and you shouted and waved at every person, rack of clothes or mannequin we passed on the way to the car.

Thanks for being so much fun today.

Love,

Mom

Bye Bye, Bottles

Dear Laney,

We didn't really set out to wean you, but you've just been so busy lately with egg-and-cheese quesadillas, buffalo burritos and lobster ravioli that you don't have room in your schedule for bottles. So after three days of no bottle, I packed up all your paraphernalia this morning and put it in a Rubbermaid tub in the basement.

You know, just in case you ever have a sibling one day.

Oh Lord, the very idea.

Love,

Mom

Laney vs the Dishwasher

Dear Laney,

Maybe there is a child behaviorologist lurking out there amongst our readers who could explain this behavior to me:

Yesterday, you dragged all of your dad's shoes into a pile in the kitchen, then you spilled out the contents of your Tupperware basket. All of that is perfectly normal. But then you entertained yourself for 30 minutes with three forks, trying to decide where they should go.

You're almost exactly 300 days old, which means you've seen me load and unload the dishwasher about 150 times. But I'm pretty sure I've never done it like this (edited in triple time, because it's 3x funnier that way) -

Love,

Mom

Waking Up On The Pretty Side Of The Bed

Dear Laney,

Now that I know what happens if I give you a bath then put you down for a nap with your hair still wet, I may have to do it more often...especially at Halloween, when I dress you up like Rod Stewart.

Love,

Mom

Doo Doo Doo, Lookin' Out My Back Door

Dear Laney,

Your dad put up a screen door so you could sit and talk to the dogs if you felt like it. Now, it's possible for you to yell EH-YUH at Ella, which I'm sure she appreciates.

I suspect that the screen door isn't long for this world. Either you're busting out or Ella's busting in, but I'm giving it a week. Last year, Ella figured out how to open this door on her own. She may not have thumbs, but she is an evil genius.

Love,

Mom

UPDATE: This has become one of those days when I end up with heart palpitations and have to take to my bed. I figured you would be happy "talking" to the dogs through the door for the 2 minutes it would take me to run to the bathroom. Less than 2 minutes later, I came back into the living room to discover that Ella remembered how to open the door, and you and the dogs are all sitting outside together, chilling on the deck. The dogs were laying down and you were drumming on Gus' food bowl, happy as a clam.

Life would be a lot less stressful if I never let you out of the baby backpack.

Sweet n' Sour Father's Day

Dear Laney,

Last night, we took your dad out for Chinese food at The Mustard Seed restaurant at the mall. It was a miserable experience (although watching you eat anything in noodle form is always a good time), and all day long your dad has been clutching his stomach and acting like he's on the verge of death. While I think this Father's Day can still be considered an overall success, I wouldn't mention the phrase "Sweet and Sour Pork" to your dad any time soon.

Of course, the fact that his stomach was upset did not derail me from fixing cream cheese-stuffed french toast with peach compote and a side of fried eggs for breakfast.

I don't know how it happened, but somehow you got your shoulder through the strap of one of my grocery bags, and carted the bag behind you all morning like an explorer's backpack. Sometimes, you are just too cute for words.

We promised your dad that we would help him organize his wood shop today, so I sorted 8 jillion nuts and washers and sockets. By the end of the project, I wanted to start labeling all the containers with names like "doohickeys" and "thing-a-ma-bobs." Your dad built you a temporary swingset so you would have a place to hang out while we cleaned. You seemed to think this was pretty cool.

It's now storming outside - harder than I've ever seen it - so we're going to watch a movie and rest. And if your dad recovers later tonight - Mexican food for everybody!

Love,

Mom

Father's Day Fishing

Dear Laney,

To kick off our Father's Day weekend of festivities, we got up this morning, made your dad some hashbrown casserole, and took him fishing. The closest he came to actually catching anything was when this one got away:

Then, the two of you got together to have some refreshments and talk strategy.

I don't know what plan of attack you decided on, but it didn't work, because once again all the fish in Montana lived to fight another day.

It was such a beautiful day today that we ended up spending several hours sitting by the river. And do you know what you did the WHOLE time we were there? I'll give you three guesses:

Love,

Mom

P.S. I'm pretty sure all serious outdoorswomen wear T-shirts that read "Don't Make Me Call Grandma."

Happy Father's Day, Thor

Dear Laney,

In honor of your dad's first Father's Day, I put together this little "greatest hits" collection of some of my favorite photographs of the two of you, plus some never-before-seen footage.

I hope he loves it, 'cause we sure love him.

We have a big weekend of fishing and grilling planned to help make your dad feel special. Can't wait.

Love,

Mom

Also...

This is why your dad isn't always my first choice for babysitter.

Love,

Mom

The Laney Vocabulary & Pronunciation Guide

Dear Laney,

You're up to three words these days:

1. "Mama" - pronounced as "Maaaaaaahhh-Maaaaaaah." You only use this word when you're displeased or have a grievance to air or have been disappointed by life. It's an awful pouty wail you pull out of your pocket when nothing else works.

2. "Dada" - pronounced as "Dadadadadadadadadadadad..." in a constant happy stream. This irritates me to no end, since there's no happy "mama" equivalent.

3. "Ella" - pronounced "EH-YUH!" The happiest sound of all. You sit at the back door and pound on the glass and shout Ella's name.

Speaking of, today you made Ella play blocks with you (which is why the string to your blocks set is still stuck between her paws), then you petted her while she tried to lie in your lap. You know what your next word should be? "Gentle." Because I say it hundreds of times a day to you - or once for every time you yank on Ella's ears.

Love,

Mom

A Couple of Hard Days

Dear Laney,

I think you have a new round of teeth coming in, and as a result, we've experienced a few hard days and a few sleepless nights. Thankfully, you've developed some coping strategies to get through these tough times, like:

Cry it out, and then watch "Jeopardy" with dad.

Make a few calls on Dad's cell phone, then plow through a box of Wheat Thins.

Or Get together with Ella and compare notes on what I could be doing better. Ella could talk about that for days.

Not pictured: Screaming at the refrigerator for being closed, emptying a box of 600 Q-Tips on the bathroom floor, and attempting to eat a newspaper.

Love,

Mom

Thanks for the Help!

Dear Laney,

Sometimes I have to finish an important project for work, and I need you to entertain yourself for twenty minutes. I know this is asking a lot, and I've come to accept that if left to your own devices you will leave a path of mayhem and destruction in your wake. This is the price I pay for needing to send an e-mail or two.

Today, you occupied yourself by cruising through the kitchen, unpacking my Tupperware cabinet, then scooting over to my cookbooks and pulling out every recipe my mother has ever clipped and sent to me from the pages of "Southern Living."

But in the end, I did get to send those two e-mails, so thanks for the help.

Love,

Mom