Izzie turns 2

Aaaand then it happened. She stopped being a baby one day. Sigh. Why does this always happen to children? Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely enjoying less diaper changes, better sleep at night, and forgoing onesies but there's something about the blink and you end up with a teenager thing that killls me about parenthood. 

I've at least gotten a bit wiser with birthday celebrations the second time around. It's occurred to me that other than a little sugar and a couple of balloons floating around, the whole birthday concept is lost on the under three crowd. So that's what I did; I kept things reeeeallly simple. Cake, some extra treats, a few reused birthday decorations and, of course, balloons (have you ever seen a 2 year old who isn't crazy about balloons?)... The cakes might look a little tricky but I swear to you that they are as easy as pie....err, cake. I just made a basic chocolate cake, whipped up some butter cream frosting, cut and frosted with a spatula and added some piping that I improvised from a ziploc bag that I had snipped the end off of.  Here's the pin that shows how to make the butterfly shape. 

I love her expression in this candle blowing picture. She could not figure out why the heck we were all looking at her face. In case you didn't know, Izzie gets an old man grumpy face anytime she's perplexed, which was definitely happening here. 

10 things you should know about Isaline: 

1. She has two loves at the moment: cars and babies. About as opposite as you can get on the stereotype spectrum. Maybe she will turn out to be part time nanny, part time race car driver. 

2. Isaline was byyy far the more challenging of our 2 children as a baby. She is sensitive to just about everything. Food, new environments, dairy products, sleeping conditions, temperature, etc. Gotta love a high maintenance child. (don't worry, we do!) 

3. She cannot say Mama, Mom, Mommy, Maman, or any other version of the name for the life of her. I'm not kidding, I'm that cereal commercial in reverse where the dad is trying to get his baby to say 'Dada' and the kid keeps repeating 'Mama'. This drives me crazy most of the time with the exception of early morning wake ups and dirty diapers. 

4. Like any self respecting younger sibling, she secretly thinks the world of her big sister. Big sis likes her quite a lot as well :) 

5. She has a knack for breaking into the kitchen cabinets and spreading dried pasta and chicken bouillon all over the floor as well as shoving as much as she can into her mouth. 

6. She once managed to sneak an entire cup's worth of salt into a muffin batter just as we had finished up making it. 

7.  The kid cannot say Mama but she can sing the tune of 'Let it Go' and 'Peppa Pig' with surprising accuracy and pizzazz... 

8. She is naturally reserved and very good at giving her stalker stare at children at the park. I have yet to birth an outgoing child :) 

9. Her preferred method of dancing is head banging. (she gets that from her father)

10. Through Izzie I have discovered the joy of mothering. The second time around is full of unrealistic expectations let go of, the confidence knowing you did it once, and extra cuddles mixed with the hindsight in knowing just how fast it all goes. 

Bday Bash

Apparently, blogging without a computer tends to be challenging. Such is our life for another couple of weeks until we can buy a new un-crashed one. Oh technology, one day your friend, the next your worst enemy... (except for when has technology ever really been my friend?) So forgive the month lateness of Livia's birthday bash (this time with friends of ours and their little kiddos). Actually it's rather fitting considering we couldn't get our act together and did the party a month late-now you get to have the photos a month late as well :)  

I tried to resist Pinterest's beacon and keep this as low key as I possibly could. I figure I'll save my birthday slaving years for when she'll actually remember it. And I was lazy. 

The back of our apartment shares a big ol' lawn/garden with the three other buildings on our lot so we figured big space + cushy grass + playhouse stuffed with toys = the perfect venue for a bunch of crazy sugar-highed babies and toddlers. 

Those are baby biscuits in case you're wondering...we cater for the under 2 crowd around here (no id necessary). Oh and the watermelon turned out to be delicious. Livia thought so both before and after her slice got dropped and then covered in dirt. I'm really banking on the 'dirt don't hurt' theory otherwise we might be in trouble... 

It pretty much consisted of a whole lot hanging out, gorgeous weather, bottle drinking (milk for the babes, beer for the guys),  and chatting while trying to keep our kiddos from doing ridiculous things. Livia apparently missed the memo that she was hostess and could mostly be found 30 ft away picking grass and doing other random shenanigans that basically involved snubbing the other kiddos. 

It didn't take long for the yard to look a little like this:

But hey, they had fun making that mess, so that's what counts, right?

I gave in to Pinterest for the dessert and went the cupcake route. With sparkly party hats of course--what party is complete without them, right? 

Here's a very telling pic where Mom and Dad are doing all the work while Missay Thang looks condescendingly on... Of course I quipped to the group that I wasn't sure how Livia was going to take the whole cake eating thing considering that she's never had processed sugar before. 

Then I got to eat my words while Livia devoured hers. Yes folks, that is massive concentration going on there. She aint holdin' nothin' back. 

Don't believe that look on her face. She loved every minute of it. She takes after someone I know but gosh if I can remember who.... ;) 

Of course after this she proceeded to wipe the rest of that cupcake all over me. Sharing is caring, really. 

Lions, tigers, and pigeons, oh my!

DH the other day (that's Darling Husband for all you sad, so not with it, people who don't hit up the pregnancy web forums on a regular basis) decided a birthday trip to the circus would be just what the doctor ordered (short of going into labor that is) to get this crazy pregnant she-male out of the house. And he was right! Who doesn't love the circus? (Okay, not including you Mom...) Matt (I could say DH again but really it's only cool when people have to guess at what you're talking about) found a little family-run circus on the edge of Paris a couple of weeks ago and it wasn't long before we were following our mini-skirted and high-heeled 8 year old hostess to our seats (who of course didn't hesitate to remind us of the tipping policy--I wanted to remind her to go to school and get an education but whatever). 

This is us ready for the greatest show on earth. 

The tigers were the first act, and probably one of my personal favs. They were dangerous, although not in a The Crocodile Hunter sort of way. I'm not kidding about that either--my cat is more dangerous than those large felines and much worse behaved (ah, sigh, if only I had one of those whippy things to wave around the living room). No, the real hidden danger was in sitting a bit too close to those enormous cats. Why, might you ask? Just imagine a big ol' tiger standing his hiney at attention on the cage wall and letting 'er rip... Trust me folks, that is one territory marking you don't want to get in the way of (esp not when the spray is 4-5 feet long and covers the [thankfully empty] front row seats). As for other inappropriate behaviors, here's a couple of them making out during the act... 

Here's the plate guy...I honestly held my breath like a zillion times considering he was about 11 years old and had 10 plates not to break... 

The act below certainly gets the award for the most random act. The lighting isn't so great but try to make out the animals on the cart: 3 toy poodles (although maybe ferrets on steroids from Argentina for all we know...), a basket full of doves,  one floppy eared rabbit, and a goat who quickly busied himself trying to eat something on the edge of the ring. The "trainer" then proceeded to do a trick with each of the animals, one after the other. You had the poodle that stood up and pushed the rabbit in a toy stroller across the floor and the doves that got swung around on a giant parasol and somehow managed to stay on without puking (possibly the next great animal rights cause, no?). The goat just stood on its hind legs so clearly we won't be asking his trainer to come help with Fifi.  

It was quite the family affair... at one point our 8 year old hostess left the concession stand and went out to perform a little number with the hula hoops. I tried not to be jealous that at 8 she already was much more coordinated and looked much better in a miniskirt than me. I think her mom was the ringmaster who also turned out to be the trapeze lady (tricky, I know!). 

When all was said and done  I think we can safely assume that the audience had a very good, albeit quirky, time at the circus (does it count that most of them were under the age of 5?). As we walked out the clown asked me if I wanted to give the pillow around my stomach back to the circus...ah, if only it were that easy... He was very impressed though that our unborn child had already had her first circus experience before even coming out of the womb... maybe I'll tell her about it someday, that is, if she ever decides to come out... 

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to...

Ok, so I'm not really crying...although I might just start if this baby doesn't come soon. It is my birthday though. Almost. Tomorrow I turn the big 2.9. As in, my last year before the big 3.0. As in, my last 20-something birthday ever. Ah, sigh. Youth. (Okay, I know it's all relative but comm'on, entering a new decade is a big deal, no matter which one it is!) My first 20-something birthday was spent having to watch some string bean cowboy sashay across the dance floor while wiggling his eyebrows at me during my "birthday boot scootin' boogie." Note to self: never ever let friends tell the DJ that it's your birthday: thorough humiliation will always follow.  Thankfully, there's only about a one in a million chance that this baby will actually come out on my bday and that my midwives will channel their inner line dancing divas to celebrate. So unless my water breaks while I'm laying on the couch for about the fiftieth time tomorrow, this birthday should be fairly drama-free. 

Yes, I'm am wearing my princess party hat that my mom brought me last year for my bday. Admit it, you're thoroughly impressed by my coolness right now. Well anywho, let's get to the point of this post, shall we? Birthdays are great opportunities to reflect on life and I've definitely had the time on my hands to do a bit of it (my reflecting face is the bottom right one, you know the one that looks like I'm constipated?). Last summer I was reading a book called One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are by Ann Voskamp. Here is a woman who's had a tough road to walk exploring what it means to live joyfully, gratefully, a midst the obnoxious mundane or even 'can I slap something?' moments of life. Everyday, she decided to revel in one thing, big or small, and write it down rather than attempting to focus on all of her blessings. (True confessions, I've always hated the round the table share your blessings time at Thanksgiving meals...yes, please feel free to put me on the heathen list.)

The thing is, if I look back on the past two years of my life, I can confidently say that in one shape or form dissatisfaction has been my persistent and nagging friend. It doesn't matter that I've tried to ditch him along the way, he just keeps coming back. First it was being fed up with living in our last apartment and I just couldn't wait to move to a new place. Then we finally moved but found ourselves dead broke and with only enough mula to furnish the place with some cheap essentials. Now the place is looking a bit spiffier but my life has been put on hold until this baby decides to make her grand entrance into the non-womb world. I am sick. and. tired. of. waiting. But I'm more tired of thinking that joy will be just around the corner. As a Christian, something tells me that I don't have any business thinking like that. Thus I'm going to begin my own thankfulness project in the form of photos. Yes, Instagram, I'm finally going to see what all the fuss is about. Bring it.

My plan is to take one picture every day for the next year. (Oh gosh, did I just commit to that writing?? Scary...) Little things, big things, but only one thing every day. Does one a day sound daunting and undoable? Abso-tutta-fruita-lutely. But I think that's what I need right now to shake me out of my apathetic 'gimme, gimme' attitude that I've got going on with God these days. And no, I won't share all 365 with you...after all I'm hoping you didn't end up putting me on the heathen list and that you still like me. I will do a monthly recap though to give you some of the highlights. My hope is that by narrowing the lens inward I'll be better able to see the outward bigger picture of blessings and present grace in my life. So let the snap happy party begin!