Stacking The Menu

Dear Laney,

The last time we were in Alabama, your dad and I went to eat at this trendy restaurant in Old Cloverdale, and ordered a random sampling of items from the menu. There were several dishes in which the ingredients made no real sense, or - as your dad said at the time - "It's not so much a menu as a dare."

I thought about that meal today as I watched you open the pantry door, slide your step stool over, and stack a jar of peanut butter, some wasabi powder, a can of black olives, some cinnamon and a jar of oregano.

Mmm, delicious motor skills.

Love,

Mom

...And That's How We Paid For Your College Education

Dear Laney,

Who would have thought that ten bucks in change would entertain you for an hour?

This would be a good time to tell the grandparents that for the next gift-giving holiday, what you really want is a roll of quarters. You and every struggling young person in a crappy apartment in Los Angeles who has to use a coin-operated washing machine.

Ah, memories.

I kept a pretty good eye on you throughout this process, so I don't think you accidentally ingested any nickels, dimes or pennies, but I guess time will tell. I usually make about a buck fifty when I do your dad's laundry. Maybe the same will be true of changing your diaper.

Love,

Mom

Morning Glory

Easter Wrap-Up Part 3: A Gift From The Easter Bunny

Dear Laney,

I hope everyone is suitably impressed that I've been able to get almost a week's worth of blog posts out of one weekend.

I talked to my cousin Heidi last week, and she said that her daughter Hope asked for a drum set and a rock n' roll guitar from the Easter Bunny. Golly, I hope she got it. Since the closest store to our house that sells ibuprofen is half an hour away, you will be getting nothing of the sort.

Instead, this year the Easter Bunny brought you a collection of toys for the river and a pair of river shoes. Your dad and I took you down to the water on Sunday to try them out, and it seems like they're a hit with both you and your dad. I think sand castle-making equipment falls under the same category as Lincoln Logs, Hot Wheels, building blocks, and anything involving "Star Wars"... you know, Stuff Your Dad Buys So He Can Play With It Himself.

Our only partial setback was when you filled your shovel with sand and tried to feed it to yourself. But a few swishes from a juice box, and you were back in the mix.

Love,

Mom

Easter Wrap-Up Part 2: Grandmas, Avert Your Eyes

Dear Laney,

Your dad recently described you - with a great big grin on his face - as an "adrenaline junkie."

He told me you could do this, but I didn't believe it until I saw it for myself this weekend. I thought about shooting video of it, but figured that seeing it in motion might be too much for your assorted grandmothers. After all, some of them already have iffy blood pressure.

STEP ONE: Climb up the side of your play fortress, completely unassisted.

STEP TWO: Stand on the top platform, and applaud yourself.

STEP THREE: Slide, baby slide.

What cracks me up is when you get off the slide, you look at me and sign "More!" while hollering "MOH!" ...as if I had anything to do with what just happened.

Heck, it's free and I don't have to get off this patio chair. Knock yourself out.*

Love,

Mom

* Not literally, of course.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Nate!

Dear Laney,

In honor of Uncle Nate's birthday, here's a little clip of the two of you having fun together.

Here's hoping Nate has a great birthday and a great year.

Love,

Mom

Easter Wrap-Up Part 1: An Easter Miracle

Dear Laney,

We woke up on Easter morning to sun shining through the windows onto the flowers that Grandma Sue had brought, and the day only got better from there. Look:

We took advantage of the beautiful warm day by getting lots of yard work done. We continued to uncover lots of toys that had mysteriously disappeared last November. Your dad got to set a lot of things on fire, which is apparently something dudes like to do - it's on the list right between "drink beer" and "scratch stuff."

You and Grandma Sue suited up to do some gardening.

You used your new Disney Princess watering can to help plant some radishes in the greenhouse. I don't especially like radishes, but since I seem to accidentally kill every plant I come in contact with, this is what I like to call a "non-issue."

What you liked best was watering your new river shoes. I didn't try to talk you out of it. You're still wearing some of your 6-12 month shoes, so I'm all for anything that will encourage those little piggies to grow.

Love,

Mom

Happy Birthday, Philip

Dear Laney,

We're getting a late start on this one, because we woke up this morning about 5 minutes before you were supposed to be in the car for school and we've been running behind ever since.

We hope your grandfather in Georgia will forgive our tardiness and the off-key singing that's becoming our trademark. It's part bad "American Idol," part Ella howling to come inside - make a note of that in case one day, Rolling Stone magazine asks you to cite your influences.

Hope you had a great birthday!

Love,

Mom

The Hunt Is On

Dear Laney,

Yesterday morning, we went to your first-ever Easter egg hunt in Alberton. They had divided the yard behind the community center into three sections, so we lined up behind the "Walking Toddler to 3 Year Old" sign. In our section of the yard, it looked like they didn't "hide" the eggs, so much as toss them from the comfort of a patio chair while drinking beer. Then, they announced that there was a rule that no adults could touch the eggs. You could point to the eggs to help your toddler, but you couldn't actually pick up the eggs. Probably a good rule, because you know how grandmothers can be.

Before the egg hunt started, I gave you a talk about how it didn't matter how many eggs you found, the important thing was to have a good time. This is the kind of speech a mother gives when she thinks her baby isn't going to grasp the competitive nature of an egg hunt*, but you got the hang of it right away, and even insisted on carrying your own basket.

What you didn't know until the hunt was over was THERE WAS CANDY IN THOSE EGGS. Holy moly. And your dad was only too willing to help you open them all and check out the loot.

P.S., When you're old enough to read this, you should remind your dad that he owes you two Werther's, a Milky Way and some gummy fish.

Of course we ran into our favorite Alberton resident - Cedar - at the egg hunt. We have to include a photo of her here, because if this blog is "The Love Boat," Cedar is our Charo.

We all consumed lots of sugar, ran and laughed and enjoyed the sunshine. Then I left it to Grandma Sue to explain why we needed to leave the Magical Land Of Playtime, Where Candy Grows On The Ground.

Love,

Mom

*Peg Peg does not have a version of this speech. Instead, she likes to yell, "GET IN THERE! THEY'RE TOUCHIN' OUR STUFF!"

Hoppy Easter Weekend, Everybunny!

The Partridge Family, We Ain't

Remembering Edna

Dear Laney,

This morning, my great aunt Edna passed away. She will be missed...

Personally, I'll miss going to restaurants with her, because she would look at a menu that read, "ALL ENTREES COME WITH BAKED POTATO," and - ten times out of ten - would call the waitress over to ask, "Now, honey, what does this come with?"

I once complained about my boss to her, and she told me I should "stick him with a pin."

She was the only person in the world who could get away with calling me, "Brookie."

She was 95 years old, and walked two miles a day.

Tonight, I know she's in Heaven... even though she drove that Buick like a bat out of Hell.

We miss you, Edna Earle.

Love,

Brooke

Fair Trade

Dear Laney,

According to every action movie ever made, the United States has a policy of not negotiating with terrorists. While that may be a sound policy, there have been times when I have been forced to negotiate with a toddler.

Like today, when I traded you all the M&Ms you could grab from a 4lb bag of trail mix in exchange for your cooperation in an Easter photo shoot.

Winner, winner.

Love,

Mom

Disclaimer / Mom's Mental Health

Dear Laney,

I'm sure we are but moments away from some of your relations calling to ask why they haven't received an Easter picture. When that happens, I'm going to put you on the phone so you can explain to them that EVERY DAY SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME, OUR YARD HAS LOOKED LIKE THIS:

It's hard to slap on a sundress and head outside for a photo op when IT'S SNOWING FOR THE UMPTEEN THOUSANDTH TIME THIS YEAR.

Does the weather drive me to drink? Yes. Does it keep you and your dad from going outside to play soccer? No.

When you guys eventually have to check me into the loony bin, be sure to attach a copy of this blog to my admittance paperwork, so at least the staff will know that my insanity is justified. I would prefer that you admit me to a nice facility in Alabama or Georgia*, so the nurses can shake their heads and say, "Well, she ought never to 'a been there in the first place. Bless her heart." Also, they probably serve really good banana pudding at a place like that.

A hair away from completely bonkers,

Mom

*But not Mississippi. Those people are just backward.

The One Where Mom Violates HIPAA*

Dear Laney,

After your dad went to the pharmacy last week, he came home with your antibiotics and said, "That woman at the pharmacy spent twenty minutes explaining to me how to put stickers on this dose chart. I wanted to say, 'Look, lady, the Navy trusted me to fly a multi-million dollar helicopter through a war zone. I'm pretty sure I can put stickers on a piece of paper.'"

I don't need to tell you that we've already lost the sheet of stickers, and I found the chart itself under the refrigerator this morning. Good thing for our military that helicopters can't fit under household appliances.

Your ear infection seems to have completely cleared up, and you're back to your normal happy self.

Your dad, however, recently developed a mysterious rash on his legs and upper body. I think we finally traced it to our new laundry detergent. Apparently, your dad is so manly that even the idea of perfume touching his skin makes him break out in hives. I switched us to a new brand, Stud Suds Woolite, and that seems to be clearing up the problem.

My foot is still recovering from its second-degree burn. Dropping a fire extinguisher on it this morning was just another shot of painful, delicious irony.

Love,

Mom

* Not really.

Giddyup

Dear Laney,

Today, your dad needed to do some work on that damn paper his thesis, so you and I went to town for a big adventure. We did a little shopping, then I took you to lunch at the barbecue place where you got to eat macaroni and cheese. You had cinnamon apples as a side dish, and we were both surprised to learn that you're allergic to cinnamon. You can eat it just fine, but it turns the skin around your mouth bright red.

You tried to pay the bill yourself, which was mighty nice of you, but speaking of surprises: Famous Dave's does not accept the Missoula County Library Card as a form of payment.

After lunch, we went to the park where you got to run around for a while. May I say, your outfit today was nothing short of a fashion delight.

We were on such a roll, I decided we should throw caution to the wind and end our day with a ride on the carousel. I bought our tokens and we climbed on board. I put you on one of the smaller horses, and then stood beside you, ready to hang on to you for the duration. Then, the middle schooler who operates the ride came and told me that I was not allowed to stand on the carousel - I needed to get on a horse. All of the old lady benches on the carousel were taken, but the 8th grader pointed us in the direction of two horses right next to each other.

I had a moment of profound indecision... do we get off this ride and say, "Thanks, anyway?" Or... do we get on side-by-side horses and see what happens? Everyone on our side of the carousel was staring at us, because we had become Those People Who Are Holding Up The Ride. So I took a deep breath, and put you on a horse, hitched up my dress, and climbed up on the horse next to yours. I put the safety belt around you and kept a white-knuckle grip on the back of your dress.

You were very very good at holding on. As the carousel started to spin faster, your reaction fluctuated between wide-eyed panic and full-body giggles. And in case you're wondering, these are the thoughts that ran through my head:

1. I must hang on to this baby.
2. If I keep looking sideways, I'm going to hurl.
3. Please, Jesus, don't let my baby start crying.
4. Is it just my imagination, or is everyone looking at me like they can't believe I put my child on this ride?
5. Also, Jesus, it would be nice if the baby didn't throw up, either. Amen.
6. I will give that punk kid $100 to stop this ride immediately. $100 buys a lot of Stridex.

Mercifully, the ride started to slow down and eventually came to a blessed stop. That's when you began rocking back and forth in your saddle, trying to make your horse move again. You started doing the sign for "More," while yelling "Moh!," "Moh!" I had to explain that the ride was over and everyone had to get off.

"Moh!" "Moh!"

Maybe some other time...when all the blood returns to my fingers and my breathing returns to normal.

Love,

Mom

There's A Sucker Born Every Minute

Dear Laney,

Today's sucker = your dad.

Yesterday, you two decided to run some errands in town while I stayed home on The World's Least Productive Conference Call. A few hours later, you guys showed up with this, which you beat the heck out of with a wrench helped assemble:

I look forward to you riding it in three years.

Love,

Mom

I Did Not Know You Could Do That.

Dear Laney,

You're just one big mystery, shrouded in enigma, acting like a contractor, disguised as a baby.

Love,

Mom

Odds and Ends

Dear Laney,

Crazy week so far.

You still weren't feeling well on Monday, so yesterday you went to see Dr. Hoover who determined that you have a minor ear infection in your right ear. She prescribed a ten-day regimen of amoxicillin, which you loathe. Thank gosh the instructions say the raspberry-flavored liquid can be added to something else; the only way I've been able to get you to take it is in a blueberry smoothie or a vanilla/soy milk "latte." If this TV gig doesn't work out, I'm totally getting a job at Starbucks. I hear they have dental.

Cedar came over for a little while last night to play, and we once again want to thank the dogs for preferring dog food to human baby fingers. It really cuts down on the lawsuits.

While you guys were outside hanging out, I managed to pour the boiling water from our mac n' cheese directly on my naked foot. I screamed and jumped fully clothed into the cold shower. Still, I got huge blisters. Note that I am not including a picture of my injury on the blog - you're welcome.

This morning, your dad left for a two-day trip to Seattle to present his paper at the American Association of Geographers conference. Attention single ladies - if you're looking for bookish, available nerdy types who can find all those pesky "-stan" countries on a map, let me direct your attention to the Seattle Downtown Sheraton.

Dad left at 4am this morning, so we all woke up and had a hard time getting back to sleep. We had our own conference of cranky this morning. You were mad at me for dressing you, you were mad that I put a barrette in your hair, you were mad that I tried to give you your meds without putting them in a delicious beverage first... When we got to school, you flew inside and threw your arms up for Tracy to pick you up, and you held on to her like she was your only hope of rescue from that crazy woman you live with. Like, "MY MAMA IS SO MEAN TO ME! HOLD ME!!" Then Tracy rubbed your back and said "Aw, was Mom mean to you this morning?" OK, next time you two should just plunge a salad fork straight into my heart and save yourselves the pity party.

Love,

Mom