Double digits, here I come!

I have a counter! Check it out in all it's pathetically low glory. So I realize that it's a little sad right now, but eventually, in like, 10 years, it should be a respectable number. Maybe sooner? And I sort of like the idea of making progress slowly; it's refreshing.

Adios, adieu

Saying goodbye is so hard! We've been without my bro and sis-in-law for almost two months, and without beloved's sis and bro-in-law (and our only nephew) for almost a month. And we finally feel it. Really feel it. When we want to call them and have dinner. When we want to share things. When they send us texts about their new lives. We miss having them here, at home. With us. Together.

To commemorate their joy over their new chapter in life (and ours on their behalf), some goodbye pics:

Upon changing a dirty diaper:

"See my potty."

"OK, here it is"

"Mama, messy."

"Yes, munckin, it's messy"

"See my why cacka in dere, mama! (I see my white cracker in there, mama)"

Nice one, Pink.

No ER visit, at least.

Well, at least not yet. But I did wake up waaay to early (8:00) considering the fact that I got three hours of sleep two nights ago. But who's complaining? Not me, no way! OK, so I brought Pink in bed with me, where I heard "Hi mama" at least a dozen times in two minutes, in between head bonks and an almost-broken nose. Eventually my eyes stayed open and focused. She climbed down off the bed, walked away, and came back bleeding. Now, this was an honest-to-goodness injury, but nothing to even call the doctor about. She was FINE. Really. I've learned this week, though (thank you, skinned knee for the education) that my girl does not like blood. Maybe because her mommy gets nauseaus at the mere thought of it. And her daddy runs the other direction, screaming like a little girl. In fact, he sounds a little like his little girl (alright, that's a little dramatic; he only runs and screams like a man). Ah, I digress. She doesn't like blood and she means business. This is a problem when it's coming quite fevrently from a place on her body that she can put up nice and close to her face, such as, say, her wrist. It goes something like this: she takes a better look at this owie and then screams, "mama, owie, kiss it, make it better, MAMA!!!" I guide her wrist away from her face, apply pressure (don't I sound official, like a mommy-nurse?), try not to think about the blood gathering on the tissue, and she starts to calm down a little. Until she goes in for a good look again. Repeat the above several times.

Finally, I get her to the sink to clean it out and apply (gasp!) a bandaid (mean mama). I put one on my wrist, too, and got her to at least stop screaming for a while. I suggest we get our hands on whipped cream (mama's redemption) for breakfast and she enthusiastically agrees "yes, mama, whi keen ssstabcks." Bet you didn't know that whipped cream has a very high nutritional value! When it calms down 2 year old girls enough that both girl and mommy can eat breakfast, it's downright superfood quality! See? nutritional value. Again, I digress. We manage to get dressed, an enormous effort when one's wrist is rendered unbendable and untouchable (maybe she's dramatic, too?). And what awaits us at the bottom of the stairs? A present from Keiko's (our dog) sick tummy. All over. Next to the toys. In the middle of the pathway through the living room. THANK YOU Keiko's tummy, thank you! And good, on-top-of-it mommy and homemaker that I am, I tip-toed my way toward the door, grabbed my purse, and headed for Starbucks to get my crying-once-again girl some whipped cream. And coffee for mama.

Incidentally, Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back! Yes!!! I miss fall; in San Diego I have to get pretty creative to make it feel like fall when it's 90 degrees outside. Dye my hair dark red. Burn pumpkin spice candles. And drink these delicious lattes of the gods! If you dare to be one of those "Starbucks" people, order it with one less pump of syrup than normal, and have them add one pump of chai (thanks for this tip, AnLiss). Just don't, for the love of Pete, skip the whipped cream. Nutitional value for mama, too. Oh, yummy goodness!

To my girl:

Pink, my source of joy, you are BEAUTIFUL! Thank you for making my life so much richer.

I love how you hold up your pinkie all the time (you're a fourth-generation pinkie girl).

Yesterday you waded through really cold, waterfall water, in the middle of a mini-rapid, all barefoot and pant-less and tough and burly, and you pranced. Your boy-through-and-through cousin, K, was cold (in his defense, the water really was cold), but you girly-girled your way through with your daddy and found a caterpillar on the other side of the creek. With your pinkie up. And your bouncing, blonde curls lit up by the sun filtering through the trees. And your pretty feet tromping over the river rocks. And your chubby, dainty (seems like a contradiction in terms but you manage somehow) hands pointing to all the amazing things you might have missed if you sat on the warm edge of the creek. And your sweet, graceful smile making my heart full. God made you a girl because he knew you'd make the perfect girl.

Today you learned to sing your second song. Sort of. You sing "fee mine mice, fee mine mice, see how run, see how run" already. When I sang "Jesus Loves Me" to you today, you chimed in with "Abby" every time I got to the "me" part, and you know what? You hit the right notes! You aren't two yet and you can sing on-key! I'm still working on that one and I have 29 years on you. :) And to give credit where credit is due, daddy's the one who changed the words of the song to include your name. Oh, and you did the "da-da-da-da-da! mamu, mamu" for the first time today. You usually skip over the beat, straight to the shamu part.

You and I have this game of sorts where I ask if you're my (fill in the blank), and you answer "yes". We go through a rather long list of pink, Abby, Abigail, munchkin, pumpkin, girl, baby, and sweet pea. Not long ago I got to the end and realized that you had been keeping track when you said, "my feet pea." I must have forgotten it! Now I go through the list and intentionally miss sweet pea so that I can hear your precious little feminine voice ask me, "my feet pea." My heart melts every time!

You don't just talk. You have conversations. With anyone who will listen. Including the wall, your crib, the bear, your whale, or Keiko. It's adorable. And you tell them all about your owie and everyone else's owie, attributing all said owies to the wapak (water park).

When you want to be held you say, in your most pathetic, irresistable voice, "Mama, hoju" (read: hoe-jew). Sometimes you even throw your name on the end just for kicks.

You go to sleep like it's nothin' and put yourself to sleep (in the middle of a room sometimes) if we take too long. Can you please keep this up until, say, college?

You are a great hugger!

You are a one-of-a-kind, made for a king, created for a purpose, little girl and I can't wait to see what you become in the name of the One who created you. I love you, my "feet pea".

Are you ready for some...

potty???
You MUST read what Shannon over at Rocks in my Dryer has to say about potty training. I was falling off my seat laughing, but I was also majorly encouraged in that inside, bosom area that feels all the stress and pressure of parenting. I hope you're encouraged and humored, too!

Yes, I'm still alive

OK, so it's been a ridiculously long time since I last posted, but I already told you: I'm not great at this kind of thing. Beyond that, we've been busy. What, you're busy too? And you still post? Well, aren't you good. And inspiring. Which is why I'm finally getting around to keep up with all of you busy, inspiring mommy-bloggers.

Starting with Mother's Day:

Beloved and Pink took me on a hike at Torrey Pines, made me breakfast in bed, gave me cards (these score BIG with me; after all, they contain WORDS), played at Pacific Beach, had dinner at our fav taco place, and went to Gelato Vera for yummy gelato and cappuccinos. Do they love me, or what?

Mama's b-day at Sea World (compliments of Aunt Joan) with Uncle PaPat, An Liss, mama, dada, Pink:
Mama and Pink on the new ride at the Bay of Play where Pink saw Eh-mo (Elmo) all over the place!


















Uncle PaPat & Pink are in love We saw Shamu Rocks at night w/ An Liss































Father's Day: Balboa Park with a homemade dinner and fountains! Wawa everywhere.

















My beautiful baby girl

Fourth of July in Huntington Beach:
Whoa, who's that MAN of a MAN? Hands off, ladies. And the girl's mine, too.












I could EAT those chubby, 19 month-old legs!
























We rode bikes whenever we could (when mama's back allowed) & Pink posed like CRAZY!





































My girl has taken to cleaning. All the time. She learned a song from Daniel and Jakey's mom one day, and now she sings, "Clean up, clean up, clean up" all the time during the day. I say, "clean on girl, knock your heart out! Oh, and there's an entire house that needs dusting when you're done."