tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85570942945300487992024-02-21T10:13:40.338-05:00The Abby GalesA babe's-eye view of lifeAbbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-25744049646469330532014-08-13T13:05:00.004-04:002014-08-14T09:36:41.144-04:00First Day of School!!!I haven't written in a while, mostly because I figured, "Hey, I'm a kid." But now that I'm all growed up I think I will probably write more often. Mom says when you love to do something you should do it often so you get really good at it.<br />
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<i>This is why there is always a camera in my face.</i><br />
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So anyway, I'm all growed up now because I'm FIVE.<br />
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I had a birthday party and presents and cake and presents and cake and did I mention presents? :)<br />
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Mom and Dad teach me stuff at home and for a long time I didn't know if I'd get to go to school here. They wanted to wait until we move back to Pennsylvania. But Mom said that she can still teach me at home after school (wait, what?) and I'll learn social skills and how to be in a class, how to follow other people's rules, how to respect authority (I don't know what that means, but it sounds like...probably I won't), how to take turns and she said when I play I'll be mimicking my teacher which is a plus. So they said I could go to school and I got all excited and said "tomorrow???" And they laughed (not funny) and said, "In a few months."<br />
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Did I mention I'm five? Well, I was four when this started and I have almost no concept of time. "A few months" is apparently longer to Mom than it is to me because by the sixth or seventh time I asked, "Tomorrow?" She sighed and said, "No, in about 8 more weeks."<br />
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(Repeat above scene replacing "months" with "weeks.")<br />
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Finally, Mom said, "Look." And we went to my calendar and she circled the day it was then and then flipped to August and circled the day school was supposed to start. She said "Every night before bed you can cross of the day and then you'll know how much longer until school."<br />
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And I did.<br />
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Religiously.<br />
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Until I totally lost interest with 10 days to go. (I mentioned I'm five, yes?)<br />
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But before I knew it Mom said "You have five more sleeps until school!" And then I squealed and got all excited again and could keep track of how many more sleeps in my head...because I'm five.<br />
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Sunday morning she hugged me and said, "One more sleep until school!" and I squealed and ran around the house like a crazy person and told Daddy, "One more sleep!" and I told Aunt Lacie, "One more sleep!" and I told Grandma, "One more sleep!" and everyone was all "Yeah, we know...one more sleep!"<br />
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Grown ups. Sheesh.<br />
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Mom woke me up Monday and I jumped out of bed, because, SCHOOL!!! I ate breakfast and got dressed and remembered my lunch and drink and backpack and pencil box and bags of supplies. Teachers must like the first day of school because everyone has to bring so much stuff it looks like Christmas. Only with Kleenex, paper towels and glue sticks. :|<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crazy eyes!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Civilized human being</td></tr>
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Dad took the morning off of work so he could come to school with me and Mom. It was so cool! Mom showed us to my classroom (Mom's awesome. She knows everything.) and introduced us to my new teacher. Then I saw a tag on the table with my name on it! With play dough waiting! Dad and I looked around the classroom a little while Mom filled out some papers. Beanbags, art stuff, tons of bins and cubbies. I found where my backpack hangs up when I get there. When Mom was done she showed me the potty. It has a sign on with with a little stick figure girl. She opened the door for me and...there was a tiny potty in there! It looked weird! Mom said it's cute.<br />
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I was so happy to be at school...and Mom took pictures, because, MOM. I wanted to sit in my place and play with my play dough so Mom asked if I was ready for her and Dad to skedaddle. I said "Yes." I got hugs and kisses and waved goodbye.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My seat at my new school!</td></tr>
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While I was eating lunch with my new friends (I have to remember to remember their names) I saw Dad in the hallway. I waved and kept on eating.<br />
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After school it was raining. My teacher took us outside to wait for all the moms and dads and we stood under a roofy thing to stay dry. All the kids waiting to be picked up by their parents were under there. Eventually Mom hopped out of a car and I could go home. I was a little sad. Mom opened the back door for me and I threw my backpack in and said, "But, Mom! I didn't learn ANYTHING!!!"<br />
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She giggled and said "It's the first day, baby. Give it time."<br />
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I told her my teacher wanted to keep my pencil box. Mom said it's ok. That needs to stay at school so I have it when I need it. I thought it was rude, but maybe everyone is looking out for me.<br />
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This week I'm learning what to do while I'm at school. There's a lot to remember. I had homework yesterday, but it was quick. Mom helped me a little. I had to write my name on it, and it asked questions and I had to write the answer and I had to draw a picture of me, and a picture of my family. It only took a couple of minutes.<br />
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By the time Dad came home from work yesterday (Day Two) I could remember my lunch number (five digits) too. I was so excited to tell him. He was so surprised. I just hope I remember at school now. We're supposed to remember by Friday when they're going to ask everyone. I can do it. When I'm not nervous.<br />
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This week will be all right. Next week Dad said we'll get down to business.<br />
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Hey. I'm only five.<br />
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<br />Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-86695709445369704182013-10-31T10:25:00.001-04:002014-08-14T09:36:29.584-04:00HalloweenIt's that time again.<br />
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<b><i><u>CANDY!</u></i></b><br />
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Last year I made the rounds at various Halloween parties, played games, got lots of candy and attention. This year I haven't done any of that. (MOM???)<br />
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This year we were planning to go to an 80's costume movie night. We didn't go because I was sick and it was held outside.<br />
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We went to our church party and I got a couple of candies, played a few games and did a quick Trunk or Treat (it was FREEZING!).<br />
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Then we went to a "Track or Treat" 5k run at Daddy's college and I went as Punky Brewster.<br />
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"Who am I, Mommy?"<br />
"Punky Brewster"<br />
"I'm a ROOSTER?"<br />
"No. Punky BREWSTER. She was a little girl on tv a long time ago."<br />
"Oh."<br />
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Whatever. I didn't even get to wear make up. I got my face painted with kitty whiskers and then <strike>stole </strike> <i>borrowed</i> a little girl's witch's hat. No one knew what I was anyway.<br />
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Mommy and Daddy were dressed up like people from NCIS and Mommy let someone take their picture and they only took pictures of Mommy's and Daddy's<br />
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Mommy is still not happy.<br />
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And then we were supposed to go to some kind of festival, but we didn't go because we were all wiped out from the 5k.<br />
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And today is ACTUALLY Halloween and Daddy is at school, Mommy and I will go to work shortly and we may or may not go out later.<br />
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WHERE IS MY CANDY????<br />
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WHERE ARE MY FANS????<br />
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I AM CHOCOLATELESS AND NO ONE IS TELLING ME HOW CUTE I AM!!!!<br />
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Next year? I'm making the plans!Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-26235566160108424692012-09-28T20:40:00.002-04:002014-08-14T09:36:17.371-04:00OUCH!Last week I caught a cold but at first Mommy thought it was allergies. She changed her mind when it didn't go away. This past Wednesday morning I woke up at 4:30 crying because my ear hurt. Daddy drove to the drug store and bought me some Advil. Mommy gave me some and after a bit I went back to sleep. Mommy called the doctor's office and made me an appointment.<br />
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We took the taxi (I don't cry or holler in the taxi anymore and I sit in my own seat and buckle nicely). The advil wore off in the waiting room and I cried most of the time we were there, and my cries got louder the longer we waited. I still hate the scale and mommy set me down on the baby scale while I screamed. The nurse took my temperature and freaked me out, then we went to an exam room with monsters on the walls and I wanted to leave but Mommy said we had to wait for the doctor.<br />
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When the doctor came in she and Mommy had to talk loudly to hear one another over my crying. My ear hurt so bad!!<br />
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The doctor peek in my right ear and made a face and said "Oh yes, this is very bad." Mommy thought to herself, <i>great...she wasn't complaining about THAT ear.</i><br />
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The doctor peeked in my other ear and just made a face and said, "Oh yes, very bad."<br />
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My ears were so bad the doctor said we could try the ten day treatment with antibiotics at home or she could give me a shot, but that my ears were so bad and I was in so much pain that she recommended the shot. Mommy gritted her teeth, held me tight and agreed.<br />
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It wasn't til the nurses came in that we were told the shot was SO BIG that they had to split it into two shots (one in each leg) and that we'd have to come back tomorrow for another one (which was actually another two). I screamed my head off. Mommy teared up and said she was sorry.<br />
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Thursday we went back and the doctor said my ears looked better and I might not need "the third shot tomorrow".<br />
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<i>EXCUSE ME???</i><br />
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Thursday I got two shots, one in each butt cheek. I couldn't sit down on the way home.<br />
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Friday, hoping for the best, we went back to have my ears checked and the OTHER doctor (apparently my doctor doesn't work Fridays) said she still saw pus behind my ear drum and would feel better if I had another shot (another two) rather than send us home without it and have pus collect and we'd have to start over again in a week or so.<br />
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SO....<br />
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I had two more shots (in the legs a few inches under where they shot me Wednesday) and when mommy was trying to take my pants off and lie me on the table I cried and yelled, "But I love you!" Mommy said "I love you too, baby." and kept going. The receptionist who came in with the nurse (in case she needed help holding me down) said "Oh my god, that's pitiful. I can't look at her now." And while the nurse was giving me the shots the receptionist made faces and looked like she wanted to cry too.<br />
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Mommy didn't cry today. But Daddy went with us yesterday and she lost it then....and again at home. She said it's hard to see me hurt and having to hurt me more to make me feel better.<br />
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It's Friday night now and I'm doing better. We're at J'Mam-maw's house and I jumped on her bed and played with her toys. Mommy's glad I feel better. Daddy keeps telling Mommy she made the right choice.<br />
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I'm even singing about going to the doctor. I guess I'll be ok. I wonder if I'll panic the next time I come when I see poor Nurse Wanda again.Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-4590708653226459572012-06-06T10:00:00.000-04:002014-08-14T09:36:06.739-04:00Hanging With The Mayor This weekend I was very busy. On Saturday Mommy wouldn't wake up (sigh) so Daddy took me to visit J'Mam-maw and Aunt Hacie. I played and jumped on their beds and worked their computers for them. Then Daddy took me home to get Mommy and we went ice skating.<br />
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<i>With the MAYOR, y'all.</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mayor Tomlinson, me and Mommy<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">I had stupid skates.</td></tr>
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I skated with Mommy cause she's done this before. Daddy took a few pictures and fell down and ran over people.</div>
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Then we caught up with Mayor Tomlinson again so Daddy could see Mommy and I really knew her (he was falling down when we were skating with her and missed it). I decided I was too shy so Mommy picked me up, but I wasn't playing along.</div>
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The mayor said, "Turn around and we'll get one with Abby." So Mommy turned around and...</div>
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My skates fell off (see that pic up there?) and then fell off twice after Mommy and Daddy put them on again so Mommy got me some REAL skates and they worked too well. I couldn't skate around like I had been. Luckily, Mommy got me a walker.</div>
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Then, to prove he was there (actually because he can't skate backwards to take pictures) Daddy gave the camera to Mommy and he helped me with the skates. My feet moved and moved but I didn't get anywhere. It was really frustrating.</div>
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So I started crying, and for the next ten minutes all I did was cry "I can't skate! I can't skate!"</div>
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And skating was over and I was hungry so Mommy and Daddy said "Let's go to McDonald's."</div>
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<i>That was the best thing I'd heard all day. <3</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-45998469822285206322012-06-01T08:22:00.001-04:002014-08-14T09:35:52.439-04:00Jumping Into Summer!Later this month I turn three. It sort of feels like it's been forever since I turned two, and at the same time I can't believe my birthday is almost here. This summer I have awesome silver sandals (thanks, Mommy!), cool outside toys (thanks, Daddy!) and I am about the size of a four year old. When I go places other kids and mommys ask me questions. I don't answer when they ask my name or how old I am or where I go to school and when I don't answer Mommy jumps in to tell them I'm only two and I don't go to school yet. That's when they look at me again and look confused because I'm the same size as their kids or the same size they are (if they're a kid).<br />
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This summer, Mommy knitted me a tank top (it's a little big, but I wear it anyway) which is SO COOL, and when it's hot I let her put my hair in pony tails. I like to play outside. I like to kick my soccer ball. I like to jump in my pool and I really, really like to squirt Mommy with the hose while she's running away and yelling, "IN THE POOL! IN THE POOL!" hahahahahahaha<br />
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The other day Mommy let me put water in the pool. I put water on our house, all over our yard, on the neighbor's house and yeah, in the pool. She turned off the water and said "I think we've all had enough." She's a party pooper.<br />
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I really like my Daddy. Every time I can't see him I start crying and saying "Daddy all gone!" Sometimes he's at work. Sometimes he's taking a nap. Sometimes he's just going potty. Yesterday when he came home from work I hugged him and said, "I miss you SO MUCH!"<br />
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This summer I'm going to get bigger. I hope to make new friends. I hope I learn a lot more things. Right now Mommy is teaching me to paint (we refurbished a table and painted a flowerpot) and this week we're doing paper mache. Turns out I hate touching the goopy stuff, so I hold the masking tape for mommy and she does all the wet newspaper stuff. bleh. Flies also seem to think it's food so Mommy is always waving her goopy hands around to shoo them away and gets paper mache goo all over the place. Did I tell you she's funny?<br />
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I'll post a picture of our sculpture when we're done. For now, here's a picture of our "new" table.<br />
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And one of me, just because. :)</div>
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<br />Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-36075432140016039052012-03-07T14:00:00.000-05:002014-08-14T09:35:34.017-04:00Parents Just Don't UnderstandDaddy works...at work. Everyday I wake up and Daddy is gone. He comes home at dinnertime and I see him until I fall asleep. Unless he's on call. Sometimes I see him for a few minutes and then his phone rings. But he goes away to work.<br />
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Mommy tries to work at home. She's pretty good at it. She plays with me and feeds me and picks stuff up. She makes sure I have things to do and that I'm busy before she sneaks off to type on her computer.</div>
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But sometimes I look up.</div>
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I am very quiet. I play this game with Mommy. She calls it "Thirty-Eight Seconds." She told Daddy that basically it's when I see how much destruction I can cause in thirty eight seconds while she's cooking. Or cleaning. Or going potty. Or writing.</div>
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What she doesn't know is that I've been practicing. When she's with me and bound and determined not to leave me alone for longer than it takes her to blink her eyes I pay attention to what we're doing. If we're playing blocks I am focused on the blocks. Nothing can distract me. Not tv, not food, not Mommy talking to me, not the phone ringing. Nothing. <i>I am the blocks.</i></div>
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When we're watching tv together I am focused. I do not blink. I sit still for 30 minutes at a time. I can't hear people talk to me. I can't see people walk through the room. I am focused. <i>I am watching tv.</i></div>
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But...after a few days when Mommy has taken note of all the times I'm BUSY and uses those moments to sneak off to potty or do laundry in the other room or sit down to write I use my secret special Ninja moves. Mommy doesn't hear me make a sound.</div>
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Thirty-eight seconds later she comes to check on me and seems overly surprised to find me encased in creamer, eating sugar out of the canister or smearing butter all over the living room.</div>
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I also discovered (during a less intense moment) that if I bring her something and yell "SURPRISE!" she smiles and kisses me.</div>
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If only I remembered to do that after I make a mess.</div>
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Maybe she wouldn't holler so loud.</div>
Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-58309344904147636542012-02-28T15:34:00.001-05:002014-08-14T09:35:23.312-04:00Lord of the RingsI like sparkly. And shiny. And pretty. What combines all those things? Jewelry! I am prancing around the house wearing my sparkly foofy ballerina costume and a sparkly, shiny, pretty tiara.<br />
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I'm trying to get Daddy to buy me jewelry but he isn't taking my hints. When we go to the store I stand by the jewelry and say "PITTY!" and "OOOOH" and "MINE? PEEEZ?" Or, if he ties me to a cart (I HATE CARTS!) I will point and yell those things. And Daddy? Who says he loves me? Who says I'm his baby's angel and will do anything for me? Pfft.<br />
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<i>He agrees with me and pushes onward.</i><br />
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He agrees with me! HOW. RUDE.<br />
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If I wanted him to agree with me I'd tell him to. And Mommy? ARGH.<br />
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Mommy doesn't ask Daddy for stuff...so how am I supposed to learn how to get through to him?<br />
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Times are getting desperate.<br />
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I may have to learn to write.Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-25006981857757509982012-02-03T18:23:00.001-05:002012-02-03T18:25:15.828-05:00My Daddy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/41343_144669162235784_100000781035550_190982_816586_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/41343_144669162235784_100000781035550_190982_816586_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>My daddy has been here for me almost my whole life. Literally. He knew I was in Mommy's belly before she did. After Mommy found out too and I grew Daddy would read to me, sing me songs, and play music for me. He was my best friend.<br />
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He also worked hard with Mommy to get me here safely, and took good care of Mommy so she could take care of me and he went to the nursery with me when they pulled me out of Mommy's belly.<br />
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Now that I'm bigger he reads to me, has taught me letters and numbers and colors. He bought balloons and taught me <u>propulsion</u> and <u>thrust</u>. He works very hard to make sure I have everything I need and things I don't even know I want yet. He always makes sure I'm okay and helps to fix things for me if I'm not okay. He is the best daddy I ever had! (Ha!)<br />
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I hope that when I grow up I can find a sweetheart like my Daddy because then I'll know I'll have a good life.<br />
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Just like Mommy.<br />
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I love you, Daddy!Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-48346611677239299592012-02-01T14:17:00.000-05:002012-02-01T14:17:59.900-05:00My Mommy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVwXbw1EqjvAdQesX2TnKBgv74XdEsH3wiaGfmHOJ4IE7yAfK4uClqpD-Izt53zO8J3eyJ6lFWHcTNPP_ekOFNdCFL4JpPxpEqCM-iwb6Q8UaTrPD3c-PoUCLyO67y4lE8Q7oZ2E9lY5yj/s1600/45014_143315289037838_100000781035550_186987_513085_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVwXbw1EqjvAdQesX2TnKBgv74XdEsH3wiaGfmHOJ4IE7yAfK4uClqpD-Izt53zO8J3eyJ6lFWHcTNPP_ekOFNdCFL4JpPxpEqCM-iwb6Q8UaTrPD3c-PoUCLyO67y4lE8Q7oZ2E9lY5yj/s200/45014_143315289037838_100000781035550_186987_513085_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Mommy and I have been together practically my whole life. Mommy took good care of me before I was born and kept me safe and healthy. She worried about me every day because, she says, we were very high risk. She was very careful because we could have been in real trouble, and were, every minute. The day I was born Mommy made sure I was safe and healthy before she asked how she was doing. (The doctor cut open her belly to pull me out.) She's always been a good mommy.<br />
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Mommy spends time with me everyday. We play games and talk and build with blocks and tickle each other. Sometimes we just snuggle and she kisses my head and tells me she loves me. When I make messes sometimes she gets upset, but she always lets me know she loves me. When I make a mess or do something else by accident she tells me it's ok, she'll fix it and I'm beautiful and smart and I'll get it right next time.<br />
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I'm also talking and using big sentences. Mommy laughed when she couldn't understand what I was asking her and I asked her "Why you da mommy?"<br />
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Well, Daddy made it. NO WAY was I touching the slimy crap. Especially after Mommy flatly refused. <br />
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She took pictures and I made faces and cringed while Daddy decapitated and gutted our pumpkin. <br />
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We roasted seeds, but that was icky. We spent the night together watching movies in the dark and drinking chocolate milk.<br />
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Daddy's a really good guy...he's just weird.<br />
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Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-15626213947012472242011-07-30T15:25:00.001-04:002011-07-30T15:27:08.228-04:00What Now?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">First I had to learn English for these boobs. They hadn't bothered to learn any of my words and couldn't understand me. Then they looked surprised when I got frustrated. They're really not that bright. (more)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">Then the short squishy one taught me some signs to use so we could communicate. *sigh* I learned their stupid signs. Then she wanted me to talk so I learned English. (I'm still learning. English is really complicated!)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">Now the big bald one wants me to use a potty. I mean really. What more do I have to do for these people? Fine. I let the squishy one show me how to use a potty and I figured it all out and got to the point where I was in these weird "underwear" things all day. The bozos were very happy and all smiley. Great.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">Apparently they wanted me to do it ALL THE TIME! A couple of days wasn't enough. Haven't I done enough for them already? I mean, GEEZ. So now they're upset that I'm not using the stupid potty AT ALL. I think I've done my fair share here.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">The squishy one got frustrated and let me go back to wearing diapers. She said she was tired of me peeing on everything she owns. She even told the big bald one that I was standing right next to the potty and peed on the floor. She told him I sat on the couch and peed on that. She told him I peed on the bed and she had to wash the comforter, sheets and mattress. <i>It's all true.</i></span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">No one mentioned this in the mission dossier before I came here. Not a word. I didn't sign up for this constant harassment, embarrassment and humiliation. I'm paying them back though. Today alone I've peed on the carpet in the laundry room, on the floor in the kitchen, and pooped in my underwear. Another couple of days of this and they won't mess with ME anymore!</span>Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-18710967115850544192011-07-04T03:23:00.001-04:002011-07-30T15:27:42.549-04:00Happy 4th of July!Today is the 4th of July which is no big deal to me, but Mommy is hyper about it and Daddy likes to make things explode so he's happy. (more)<br />
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Last night Daddy took me outside to listen to the neighbors setting off their fireworks and to see the ones that were close. Fortunately none were TOO close, and we found out quickly that I DON'T LIKE FIRECRACKERS. I was all right with the noise of fireworks - boom, boom, boom...but not firecrackers - pop-pop-pop-pop! I guess Daddy finally figured it out when I crawled up his head and whined. He helped me run inside to Mommy where it was safe.<br />
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Mommy totally gets me. Mommy is afraid of thunder so she knows what I'm feeling. She held me and cuddled me and told me it wouldn't hurt me, and the next time one went off (I was still in the house) I listened, but it wasn't so bad.<br />
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I'll have to remember this when it's storming and Mommy is on her bed crying. I don't like to see Mommy scared, but she said she can't help it. She can be brave for a while, but does better if she can fall apart for a little while then pull herself together. She said it feels better than pretending to be okay. So, while it storms Daddy is holding Mommy telling her she's okay and I'm hugging her or rubbing her cheek. Poor Mommy.<br />
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Daddy is working today so we don't have too much planned. Mommy is hoping to go see the fireworks, and Daddy said we could, but we're not going to go right there because people will break into the car or break the windows or something and then we're in a trashed car waiting 45 minutes to get out of traffic to drive home.<br />
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<i>Daddy is a total bummer.</i><br />
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Yesterday Mommy said we would go swimming, but when the sun moved to the other side of the house it started storming. Hopefully today we'll be able to do that while Daddy is working. Maybe Mommy will take some pictures. Mommy is really good at that, and Daddy said her heart hasn't been in it since she sold her camera so they would have somewhere to sleep (before I was born and they were homeless).<br />
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Mommy and Daddy have been through heck. They really have. They're bouncing back, but you can see it in their eyes. Even when they're happy they're not really happy. :S<br />
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My birthday wish is that their hearts will heal and we'll all be okay. While we're celebrating Independence Day and the freedoms we have I want you to remember that no matter what happens, Mommy and Daddy, I love you and we're in this together. That's what I learned from you.<br />
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With all my heart and gratitude,<br />
Abigail AuroraAbbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-37002359891674254722011-06-27T18:12:00.004-04:002011-07-30T15:27:57.665-04:00Birthdays and Brussels Sprouts<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Last Wednesday I turned two. It was a great day cause Daddy had the whole day off and he and mommy drove around town like crazy people and Daddy and I got to go shopping just the two of us while Mommy was at the eye doctor. (more)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I like to hang out with Daddy. I miss him while he's working and sometimes it feels like he's always working. But when he's here it feels like a party. I love him very much.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This past week Daddy and I also planted some radishes. We planted some lettuce and...something. Peas? and something else out back, but they didn't grow. It's too hot here and the ground is too weird. (sand/clay/dirt) It's so hot that we really have to water things twice a day to keep the ground from getting hard like cement.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Mommy gardens with a hammer. People look at her funny, but the ground is so hard she kind of has to swing and claw her way into it. She uses the claw end to break up the dirt and pull out weeds, and the side of the hammer to push dirt back around flower roots and over seeds (gently, of course). She said the head of the hammer is for spiders. (<i>Daddy said they're as big as his hand.</i> ((0.o)) Somehow I don't see Mommy pounding one with a hammer. Screaming and throwing the hammer at it, sure.) Anyway, people laugh when Mommy heads outside with her hammer, but she knows what she's doing.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Mommy and I planted tomatoes a few months ago. 3/4 of the seeds sprouted but they only grew to about 3 inches. Then stopped. They were still alive, but didn't get any bigger. Mommy sighed and moved them outside thinking maybe sunshine and socializing with the other plants would perk them up. They died. She threw them out and found an organic farm nearby that brings their produce into Columbus on Saturdays. Daddy said that's just as good.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474979511406">Daddy said the radishes are our last try.</a> He said we've read and worked on them, paid attention to our plants and they've all died. With the radishes he said he's just gonna throw them in the ground and see what happens.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sometimes things work out better that way. A watched pot never boils and all that.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And, let's see. I'm on the Potty Train. Mommy gets ridiculously happy when I say I have to pee and when I go in my potty chair we have a parade into the bathroom where she dumps it into the big potty and then I get to flush. (I LIKE TO FLUSH!) Then we both wave and say, "Bye, Pee!"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Last night I pooped in my potty. Daddy said I'm awesome.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Mommy thinks he's too easily impressed. :)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And, I'm two! I'm bigger, I'm stronger, I'm faster, I'm smarter, and I'm twice as old as I was last year. (That doesn't seem fair.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Thank you to those of you who sent birthday wishes, and to Aunt TJ who loves me all the way across the Atlantic Ocean! <3</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HvjeITu-yUb1jN290oUXSJTnBWUlf_uY088gpbYTefEOiAZl0AnDcRaq2y_GvvuQm64P7W9qD2wVLKQQZIKhNMtP37hHbV4y3GZB9lbdZBZWbqp5URHMbABXKfDMykenoYNu9OwmBKK6/s1600/ABBYalmosttwo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HvjeITu-yUb1jN290oUXSJTnBWUlf_uY088gpbYTefEOiAZl0AnDcRaq2y_GvvuQm64P7W9qD2wVLKQQZIKhNMtP37hHbV4y3GZB9lbdZBZWbqp5URHMbABXKfDMykenoYNu9OwmBKK6/s320/ABBYalmosttwo.jpg" width="241" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">PS. Read Mommy's birthday story <a href="http://elisaashley.com/?p=450">here</a>.</span>Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-77516573207438524752011-05-15T14:52:00.002-04:002011-07-30T15:28:14.597-04:00It's almost time for a birthday potty!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">In a little over a month I'm going to turn two, and right now Mommy and Daddy keep saying something about a potty train. Daddy said he doesn't want to change my diapers. (I've been known to make his eyes water.) (more)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Mommy thinks I'm ready for the potty train. I don't know if I am or not, but even if I never ever NEVER go to the potty I'm a big girl. (So there!) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Mommy bought me some Dora the Explorer big girl panties and told Daddy I can't go on the train without big girl panties.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">A few months ago Mommy told Daddy to get some puppy pads to put on the bed so when my diaper leaked all she had to do was throw away the pad. He said "What's next? Putting newspapers on the floor so she can go on those?"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">I think it would be easier to pee standing on a newspaper than balancing on the potty while trying not to pee on the waistband of your pants. And how are you supposed to pee with your pants around your ankles on a TRAIN? </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">Mommy said, "Sure. We put down newspapers, get a puppy and they can learn together."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">Daddy said, "Oh my god. NO."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">(He won't let me get a brother either.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">Mommy wrote about the potty train on her <a href="http://elisaashley.com/?p=264">blog</a>. Maybe the Potty Train won't be so bad. After all, I really like Thomas the Tank Engine.</span>Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-12935967062604861082010-11-20T06:12:00.002-05:002014-08-14T09:33:35.337-04:00Thanksgiving<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">Thanksgiving is coming. Whatever that means. Daddy is trying to be thankful for what little we have and has started an outreach program for other needy families like us.Dad In Distress (more)</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">Mommy is taking things a little harder. She is grateful for me and daddy and that we aren't freezing to death right now, but she misses having her own home, making us food and well, she's a holiday person. She likes the hours of cooking, decorating, cleaning and surprising us with little presents. Right now she can't do any of that and she isn't taking it well. She keeps saying we have the important things, but her eyes are sad.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">And me? I'm learning that life isn't always what you want it to be, and that sometimes all you can do is all you can do. Sometimes you have to be able to take what you're given and at least accept it in hopes that someday you will be further ahead.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">What Mommy doesn't know is that because I know how much she loves me and Daddy, I know what thankfulness is. Without her and Daddy I would be lost. NO ONE loves me the way they do.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">Thank you, Mommy and Daddy.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">I love you BIG.</span></span>Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-50941858161413675132010-11-12T06:39:00.000-05:002014-08-14T09:32:51.546-04:00Um, okay?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">Today I learned: </span></span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">Ap</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">parently blueberry coffee was a bad idea. (Who thought that one out?) Daddy dumped it and Mommy kind of choked. I don't know where Grandpa got it from, but Grandma gave it to Daddy. (WTG, Grandma.)<a name='more'></a></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">If I stare at Aunt Lacie after I wake up and point and her and yell, everyone laughs hysterically for 15 minutes. (???!!!???)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">Aunt Lacie learned that if she takes off her glasses before she picks me up so I don't steal them I will poke her in the eyes. One at a time. Until she puts me down. *poke*</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">Daddy learned he cannot keep me awake to conform to his schedule. I fell asleep and Mommy and Daddy laid down with me for a nap. We all slept for 8 hours.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">I learned Mommy is a fast reader. She likes Harlan Coben and read one of his books today. A whole book. I can do that too, but my books are a lot smaller. And mostly pictures. Mommy's books don't have pictures. Daddy's might. hahahahaha</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">I learned I'm a Gemini. Whatever that means. Mommy said it explains my split personality. Whatever that is.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">And, I learned that Mommy and Daddy love me no matter what. I like that.</span></li>
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</span></span>Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-16133100384118403382010-11-10T17:01:00.003-05:002014-08-14T09:32:22.314-04:00I Think She's In Trouble<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0;">So, the other day they discovered that if they showed me pictures I can either name the object or make the sound it makes. Mommy showed me "cow" I said, "Mooo". Daddy showed me "car" I said, "Car." Mommy showed me "cat" I said, "Meow."</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0;">Yesterday I had a little plastic cup (they won't let me smash the "real" glasses) with an ice cube (my favoritest thing EVER) and a little water. I drank the water all gone and then got mad cause it was gone. Aunt Lacie said, "Is it all gone? Oh no! CRAP!" I threw the cup on the floor and said, "CRAP!"</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0;">Mommy said she's going to wait 'til Aunt Lacie is asleep and then she'll draw on her face with Sharpies.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0;">What's a Sharpie?</span></span>Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-23641007997194783862010-11-09T18:11:00.002-05:002014-08-14T09:31:57.041-04:00I Think I'm Losing My Mind<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #8e7cc3;">I'm 16 months-old now. I'm talking, walking, running, dancing, singing, but I have a hard time sleeping. I'm moody. Everything makes me cry. If they try to help or distract me I cry harder. Last night after I finally fell asleep I had scary dreams and woke up crying. THREE TIMES.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #8e7cc3;">I guess these people aren't all that bad. They did everything they could think of to do to take care of me and make me feel better. Daddy held me and rocked me, talked to me and gave me some Tylenol. Mommy held me and talked to me and laid down with me and rubbed my back until I fell asleep. After I woke up the second time (I was with Daddy the first time) Mommy helped me go right back to sleep and held me so that even while I was sleeping I would know she was right there and I was okay. When I woke up the third time (I barely woke up) she patted my back, whispered in my ear that I was ok and she loves me, rubbed my back and I went back to sleep.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #8e7cc3;">She didn't sleep very well. Every time I moved she woke up to make sure I was ok and covered. We snuggled all night.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #8e7cc3;">I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'm glad I have Mommy and Daddy.</span></span>Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8557094294530048799.post-3425497798454313682010-10-14T18:12:00.004-04:002014-08-14T09:31:26.817-04:00I Had To Convert<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;">I finally broke down and learned English because these boobs were just not getting what I was saying. GEEZ. It’s been over a year. You’d think <strong>something</strong> would have poked its way through their brain fog. The little squishy one taught me hand signals that she and I use to communicate, but the big bald one just stares at me when I try them with him. Apparently the little one is the brains of the operation.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;"></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;">So, this week I yelled, “COOL!” and “MOMMA!” and they added that to my “daw” and accompanying “woo! woo! woo!”. The little squishy one got all smiley when she realized I meant “dog” “woof woof woof”. (She can be taught!)</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;">They also seem to like it when I put my hands over my eyes and then pop out from behind them. If I do it, they’ll do it too. When I bark, they will too. When I say something, they say it back. Basically, they’re big fat parrots.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;">*heavy sigh*</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;">So, outside. The first place we were we went outside a lot. The little squishy one took me for walks. The big bald one took me for walks. We were always freaking WALKING. Then, we got on those wheeled cans that make lots of noise and feel like they’re pushing down on your head until you can’t take anymore and go to sleep. <strong>AIRPLANES.</strong></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;">Anyway, we got here. Wherever here is. Here was really HOT. We tried going outside but it was too hot, we got all sweaty. Me sweating was one thing. Those two? Forget it. The heat also changes that green crap. <strong>GRASS.</strong></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;">*shudder*</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;">Before it was cool and tickly and I didn’t like walking on it. Here it’s sharp and pointy and I don’t like walking on it. Now they call me “Princess” because I walk up to the edge of the grass and then hold my arms up until one of them stops laughing and picks me up like they’re supposed to.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;">Can I trade these morons in and get a pet? Like a giraffe?</span></span></div>
<object height="300" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/119498344752866" /><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/119498344752866" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="300"></embed></object>Abbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393635157048279744noreply@blogger.com0