Confessions of a frazzled mama- (What kind of mother are you part 2)

2 minutes of sanity- can't be that much to ask. Can it? These are some fun things we've made Charlotte do on our quest to obtain the previous statement. This is us having a good time on the beach. Notice how alone we are. Me, the ocean, and a good 10 yards away.. my baby in a pack n play. The way nature really intended it to be.




I am absolutely obsessed with Charlotte's hair. I know every curl, every ca lick, and every way it bends. I guess that's one of those supressed things you never realized you were picking up on after 10 months of having her laying on my lap to feed. I am also obsessed with styling it. I admit I may even be borderline call child services on this crazy lady for wanting to put her hair in "hair pretties." I blame this entirely on my mother (I didn't realize that kids did their own hair or picked out their own outfits till the 6th grade. ) I honestly never knew... and poor Charlotte may follow in my footsteps. I have to calf rope her to get in a "hair pretty" and have only succeeded once so far. She now knows what I'm trying to do, and her efforts to thwart me have doubled. It may be time to break out all the sneaky cards on this one because I'm just determined to win. I never admit to losing.. it just ends a draw. Just wait till it's a little bit longer. But at least I have pictorial evidence of my first accomplishment as I become my mother.

This picture really sums up what her poor life with me is like. I am amazed I have made it to a ripe age of 27. When I see the Doctor I'm often asked if I bruise easily (due to the numerous bruises on my arms. and legs) It's hard to explain where every one of them come from.. and as I start.. I always stop and think about my very clumbsy life. We live a life of.. " Didn't see that corner" meets.. "Was there really a step there??" with a dash of "Twang" from the aforestated swimming pole. Poor Charlotte.. she has to live with a mother like that. In this picture I had just caught her poor neck in the zipper. Sorry kiddo- you've only been here 11 months.. and while kudos go out to you for surviving.. you've got a l ot more coming.

This is my attack baby. We've been trying to teach her to be nice to the other kids. We patterned it after what my sister does and we call it "pat, pat." We try to teach Charlotte to touch others softly. "PAT PAT" was the first phrase she learned and her first words since Mom and Dad. I love Pat Pat because secretly it's my attack code that makes her go BANANAS. Charlotte has taken it to mean- hit whatever it is Really Hard. So while Adam's holding her up on his head.. we put Attack baby into effect with the simple phrase. He never know what hit him.


And this picture is the reason we do it all again every day. I love that baby!