One of the cool things about having two girls is being able to reuse all of the adorable things you bought for the first baby on the second one. We didn't know if we were having a boy or girl with Annabelle, so she really didn't have very many cute 0-3 month clothes, but I made up for that as soon as I was able to drive after my delivery.
Annabelle's baby wardrobe was full of cute little things, And because babies are cute, chubby blobs all of those clothes were reused on Tallulah. I bought her a few of her own things, and got both girls some matching Church outfits, because I am the annoying mom that likes to dress her kids alike for Church (I don't dress like them--I am annoying, not crazy, well, not that crazy, anyway)
But now, Tallulah is coming out of the blob stage, and so are Annabelle's hand-me-downs. Tallulah is turning into a sweet girl, who likes to climb on stuff, is slightly scared of animals, calls everyone mama, knows how to share (partly because everything is snatched from her hands anyway, so she might as well just give it up) and still seems more like a baby to me. Annabelle's clothes represent the girl who liked to eat dog food, bite people who took her toys, and ran with her elbows out, like a linebacker. Her clothes from this time period are lots of shorts and t-shirts. And they just don't look like Tallulah. I noticed this the other day as I was taking them out of storage and getting ready to launder them. They just look wrong. They are adorable. But they seem weird to put on Tallulah.
The baby clothes were the opposite. I couldn't wait to put Tallulah in all of the Annabelle classics. They were just too cute the first time and even cuter on round two. But this 12-18 stuff just looks odd. I mentioned this to H and he just said--she should have some of her own stuff. He's cool like that.
But, because I am a practical person, parsimony won out over individuality. And today, I dressed her in a hand-me down green t-shirt with a pineapple on it and some little hand-me-down jean culottes. Yes, there should be pictures on this blog, but I hate uploading stuff.
H came home and saw her and said "what is Tallulah wearing?" I was immediately curious, "what do you mean?" I asked. "she looks weird. You normally don't send her to school looking like that, she normally looks different." Again, I said "what do you mean?" "She looks, kind of... normally she looks cuter. She looks like a boy."
I told him they were hand me downs and he kind of nodded to himself and made a Tom Selleck lip pooch face as he does when he is processing something.
The thing is, that little outfit was one of my most favorite on Annabelle. She was adorable in it. But Tallulah just looks...like a tallulah in deidrich's clothes.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
yes, he is building me a chicken coop, but he is still a hyphen
True conversation we had a while back:
H: have you noticed that when I pick up dog poop in the yard, I get every single piece? And when you pick it up, there is still, like, a 5 pound bag of doo-doo left in the yard.
Me: um, no.
H: well ,you see, I have a system. I break the yard into quadrants and each quadrant has a grid, and I walk it up and down and I will not pick up a piece unless it is in my direct path, even though I can see it, that way, I won't overlook anything.
Me (dumbfounded): wow. your mom must be proud.
Fast forward to the eve of the eve of Annabelle's birthday party and each of us stressing out in our own ways. I was telling him about some errands I needed to run and he suggested I write down where I needed to go. I told him that it was all "in here" and tapped my head.
then...
H: you know when I go to the grocery store, I write down a list that corresponds to where things are in the store, that way I am in and out. You see how fast I shop? It is because of my list.
Me(defensive): I kind of do that, I do dairy, meat and canned goods. Do you vary your list order from store to store, like Krogers vs. the HEB?
H: not really, I pretty much know where everything is in every store, unless it is something weird, like anchovies.
Me (sick of listening to this and sarcastic) well ,good for you. that is great.
H: you don't have to get all mad, I am just trying to help you.
Me: I am not mad, I am just saying how wonderful you are. You are so good at making grocery lists and picking up dog poop. You are awesome.
Cluck, cluck, cluck.
H: have you noticed that when I pick up dog poop in the yard, I get every single piece? And when you pick it up, there is still, like, a 5 pound bag of doo-doo left in the yard.
Me: um, no.
H: well ,you see, I have a system. I break the yard into quadrants and each quadrant has a grid, and I walk it up and down and I will not pick up a piece unless it is in my direct path, even though I can see it, that way, I won't overlook anything.
Me (dumbfounded): wow. your mom must be proud.
Fast forward to the eve of the eve of Annabelle's birthday party and each of us stressing out in our own ways. I was telling him about some errands I needed to run and he suggested I write down where I needed to go. I told him that it was all "in here" and tapped my head.
then...
H: you know when I go to the grocery store, I write down a list that corresponds to where things are in the store, that way I am in and out. You see how fast I shop? It is because of my list.
Me(defensive): I kind of do that, I do dairy, meat and canned goods. Do you vary your list order from store to store, like Krogers vs. the HEB?
H: not really, I pretty much know where everything is in every store, unless it is something weird, like anchovies.
Me (sick of listening to this and sarcastic) well ,good for you. that is great.
H: you don't have to get all mad, I am just trying to help you.
Me: I am not mad, I am just saying how wonderful you are. You are so good at making grocery lists and picking up dog poop. You are awesome.
Cluck, cluck, cluck.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
how I spent my birthday
Got up, wrangled kids. Breakfast of disappointing toast, not pancakes. Skirmish about what to wear to church. Got myself ready. Mass. Home. Leftovers for lunch. Tallulah nap. Went to Buchanan's for plants and then Krogers. Home. Planted one plant. Helped Annabelle get a sippy and snacks and played a new super hero game she invented, dirt girl--whose mission is to help out plant girl with her organic gardening needs with the help of her sidekicks, weed girl and bug girl. Tallulah wakes up and is in horrible mood and I hold her for the next 5 hours, while planting, playing dirt girl, weeding and making dinner. A somewhat typical day for me.
H was busy working on a project and was completely unavailable after we came home from church.
You see, he is making me a chicken coop.
H was busy working on a project and was completely unavailable after we came home from church.
You see, he is making me a chicken coop.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
football
Football, for us, is a diversion.
It marks the beginning of fall and of cooler weather. It means Sunday get-togethers and endless debates on sports radio on whether Kubiak should be fired. It means Father Clint won't be around when there is a Texans home game and it means popcorn at my parents house for the Cowboys games and my dad cursing under his breathe for all of the mistakes they make. "I don't even watch the cowboys anymore. I can't stand to watch those fumbling boobs."
It means UT football and OU weekend. Wearing burnt orange and now, dressing Annabelle and Tootles in their horns shirts when they play. I'll never forget watching a game with my sweet, lovely, favorite Aunt and seeing her scream at the tv, "GET HIM, KNOCK HIM DOWN, SMASH HIM INTO A TORTILLA!"
I am not sure what I would do if I had married a man that didn't like football. It would be a little depressing to not be watching these games and seeing Hieu yell and cheer at the tv. Not to be a part of the excitement, the thrill that is in the air when your team is playing.
But make no mistake, it is a diversion.
It does not pick you bouquets. It does not make you book marks or art projects. It does not give you hugs or scream with delight when you walk through the door. It does not beg you to read Peasant Pig, or want you to take it to the Dinosaur Museum.
It does not love you back. It is merely a diversion.
It marks the beginning of fall and of cooler weather. It means Sunday get-togethers and endless debates on sports radio on whether Kubiak should be fired. It means Father Clint won't be around when there is a Texans home game and it means popcorn at my parents house for the Cowboys games and my dad cursing under his breathe for all of the mistakes they make. "I don't even watch the cowboys anymore. I can't stand to watch those fumbling boobs."
It means UT football and OU weekend. Wearing burnt orange and now, dressing Annabelle and Tootles in their horns shirts when they play. I'll never forget watching a game with my sweet, lovely, favorite Aunt and seeing her scream at the tv, "GET HIM, KNOCK HIM DOWN, SMASH HIM INTO A TORTILLA!"
I am not sure what I would do if I had married a man that didn't like football. It would be a little depressing to not be watching these games and seeing Hieu yell and cheer at the tv. Not to be a part of the excitement, the thrill that is in the air when your team is playing.
But make no mistake, it is a diversion.
It does not pick you bouquets. It does not make you book marks or art projects. It does not give you hugs or scream with delight when you walk through the door. It does not beg you to read Peasant Pig, or want you to take it to the Dinosaur Museum.
It does not love you back. It is merely a diversion.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Tallulah has two mommies
Tallulah has two mommies.
No, I am not talking about my friend C________ who I am a "family" with in order to swim at the dad's club. In this family I am Ellen and she is Porshia, not based on looks, but because I like to wear converse and I called Ellen first.
I am talking about Hyphen. She calls Hyphen mama. When he comes home, she looks at me and says "Mama?" And then she drops what she is doing, or jumps out of the lap she is sitting in and runs over to him crying "mama! mama!" and then she hangs onto his legs and tries to climb up his body into his arms. He picks her up and if he tries to put her down, she cries.
Of course "mama" is eating all of this up with a spoon.
Can we say daddy's girl?
No, I am not talking about my friend C________ who I am a "family" with in order to swim at the dad's club. In this family I am Ellen and she is Porshia, not based on looks, but because I like to wear converse and I called Ellen first.
I am talking about Hyphen. She calls Hyphen mama. When he comes home, she looks at me and says "Mama?" And then she drops what she is doing, or jumps out of the lap she is sitting in and runs over to him crying "mama! mama!" and then she hangs onto his legs and tries to climb up his body into his arms. He picks her up and if he tries to put her down, she cries.
Of course "mama" is eating all of this up with a spoon.
Can we say daddy's girl?
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