Stunad

I am a morning person.  I hit the ground running, ready to tackle the day.  I am perky, and chatty, and totally annoying.  As you may remember, David does not share that trait.  He likes to start his day off slow and then ease it on back.  The fact that I took these pictures at 6:48 in the morning should tell you just how different we are. 

Italians have a word for this lethargic, underwhelming approach to mornings.

Stunad (stew-nod): an adjective usually used to describe the way you feel when you first wake up and can't yet mentally process anything meaningful or when you do something really stupid or a series of really stupid things, not because your stupid but because you're mentally not with it.

I'll give you one guess which one of us Morgan takes after.  Frankly, it's a wonder we get out of the house at all each morning.

We've Had a Good Run

Everyone has always told me that girls are easier when they are little and boys make easier teens.  Because I only have one girl, and because she is only three, I have no idea if that is actually true.  What I do know is that I've already been fired as a mother.

Today, while enjoying a lovely Sunday brunch, my child looked at me through her bites of egg, stared me right in the eye, and said, "Mom, you've been around for a while.  I think I need a new one." I can't wait until she hits puberty.

Just Average

Morgan had her 3-year check up today.  She's what I like to call "extraordinarily average" -- 50% height and 50% weight...for every appointment she's ever had.  Middle of the road; not too tall, not too short, kinda like a good bowl of porridge.  Wrong story, whatever.  Anyway, no mom wants to hear average, in any category, and so I fish.  I ask the pediatrician about her verbal skills and remark that she knows her colors and shapes.  I refrain from telling him she regularly punches me in the kidney and has dropped an F-bomb on more than one occasion (no IDEA where she learned that). 

And every year he humors me.  "She'll do well. She's done well." he says, smiling and nodding.  He asks for a high-five, tells Morgan he likes her shoes, and politely informs me she's right on track.  This year, however, was a little different.  We got a total shout out.  The nurse came to give Morgan her shots and my daughter barely winced.  She looked right at the nurse and said, " Ouch, that was pokey.  But I really like your necklace."  The doctor, slightly taken aback, said, "Wow, she's really mature for her age." I'm not sure if he was more impressed with her bravery or the fact she knows a good piece of jewelry when she sees it.

  

Major Life Decision

I am at a crossroads.  I am getting a lot of conflicting advice and I am just not sure how to proceed.  No, I'm not trying to pursue a PhD.  No, we're not moving to Alaska to work the pipeline.  And no, I'm not pregnant (sorry, Mom).  My dilemma is much, much bigger than that.  I don't know what Morgan should be for Halloween. 

The last three Halloweens have consisted of the following:

2008:  Morgan had barely (and I mean barely) transitioned out of the blob stage.  We put her in jammies that said "It's my first Halloween, don't scare me."  She threw up on them 5 minutes later.

2009:  As you can see, I am already having issues making up my mind.  We had a little two-for-one special that year, as I got to dress Morgan up once for daycare and again for trick-or-treating.  Ironically, she also threw up at daycare while wearing the farmer outfit. 

2010:  Morgan was just learning all about the animals and my mom scooped up this little gem in some last-minute bidding frenzy.  In a related note, if you ever need an item on e-bay, call my mom.  She will not let you down.

2011: So where do we go from here?  Apparently, there's this weird thing about child development that I am just now getting used to.  These little people have opinions.  I have asked Morgan repeatedly over the last several weeks what she wants to be for Halloween.  Her answer, every time - "A shoe, Mom.  I want to be a shoe."  Really?  That's all you got?  I think we've set the bar a bit high to start dressing you as an accessory.

Why We Live Out West

Sure, the gorgeous scenery and majestic mountains are breathtaking - 

For those of you on the East Coast, these are what REAL mountains look like.


And you can catch fish so big you have to hold them like babies.

You can spend nights in the woods perfecting the campfire hot dog-

And you can take your daughter hiking to places where you actually see more trees than people.

But the REAL reason we live out west?!?!?  The County Fair.  How many of you can say that part of your childhood included tickling a horse's butt with a feather? Yeah, I thought so. We're buckaroos out here, no doubt about it.