Dear Lord,

If anyone is still interested in what is happening in our little corner of the world, please bless them especially. Especially if they’re trying to find out what’s going on in our little corner of the world by checking in here at this blog. I’m trying, Lord, to keep up. But with the boy having started kindergarten (oh my! there’s a post all in itself) and the girl that refuses to potty-train and the darlings at my own school who seem to have drained every last ounce of energy out of my body, I know that you know that I’m busy. And so tired. And so if you could just send them a sign that one of these days I will get around to posting about all the “nothing” happening around here and just how I feel about that, I’d so appreciate it.

Amen.

No one is normal.

At least not in this house.  Not even the dog.

The Airedale got spayed yesterday.  She stayed overnight at the vet, then we picked her up this afternoon.  The vet provided us with a sheet of post-operative information, and at the bottom was a hand-written note.

"You'll notice that Annie's incision is a little longer than normal," the note said.  "Annie's reproductive tract was unusually long."  (I hadn't noticed.  I wouldn't know a normal-sized spaying incision from any other kind, thankyouverymuch.)

I only hope the dog didn't hear that.  Because truly, the last thing we need around here is a dog with a complex.

Happy Birthday!

Happy third birthday to the J-Bird!

My girly-girl, my snuggle bear, my sometimes owly little one.

I can’t believe you’re three.

Do you know what you did today to make my heart melt? As I picked you up out of your high chair after lunch, you said, “You know what I need from my mudder? A kiss! Here you go! --mwah!--”

You’re always saying things that are so deliciously cute. I love the way you still reach for our “megawk” when you cross the street. I love that baby word that has made its way into your “big girl” vocabulary, carried over from the days when you insisted on “me walk” all the time even though you required assistance in the form of a grown-up finger to hold on to. I think forever I will be calling pointer fingers ”megawks.”

My current favorite in your playlist of adorable sayings is “uh-po-pa-be.” You are more than willing at all times to let everyone know what they’re “uh-po-pa-be” doing.

Three has always seemed to bring the end of toddlerhood. You seem to be full-on little girl now. I remember when you were born that I wished I could look ahead to your third birthday and see what you would look like, how you developed, and what kind of little person you would become. At the time of your birth, when we were facing a terrifying unknown that never came to be, I never could have dreamed up the wonderful little girl you are now. You are a blessing.

Thank you for providing the lion’s share of the laughter in our house. Please keep your spark, your fire, your...you-ness as you grow. Your daddy and I love you very much.

In which I withdraw my name for consideration for Mother of the Year

Two words...

Toddler. Scissors.

’Nuf said.