No, no…I’m not getting into trouble. I’m just *making* things.

After debating what to get/use for a changing table for baby #2 (I’d sold the one I had for Maya, but still have the crib), we picked out a dresser-changer combo. It arrived, and in a flurry of do-it-yourselfiness, I got it assembled. It’s lovely.

BUT…the pad is NOT a standard size. Standard pads are 33″x16″. This one is 34-1/2″x17-3/4″. D’oh.

Now I’m patting myself on the back. For around $40 (less than I would have spent on pre-made covers that wouldn’t fit anyway), I made three custom-fitted pad covers AND a rather large hand-knotted fleece blanket. So there.

Pity the flash and camera don’t do the colors justice. The non-brown sections of the varied animal print fabric range from sage to olive to a slight aqua tinge. Yeah, I know. Such animals don’t exist in nature. Eh, the colors are killer, and the fabric looks great with the crib bedding set I got (another of Maya’s things I’d sold, not expecting to get to have another baby so soon). The zebra print is cream/light beige and dark brown rather than black and white. All in all, the colors are great — JoAnn Fabric served me well.

Now, Maya says that absolutely, she wants a blanket like the knotted one I made for baby. Guess we’re going back shopping, and we’ll make her a blanket that will come in handy when we’re traveling across the Atlantic in a couple months!

And, since no photo shoot is done without pics of Maya (”Mama, let me see Maya!”), here’s my pj-attired kiddo this morning, complete with smile for the camera.

Yesterday, after watching Cinderella yet again, Maya started calling me “Mother.” As in, the way Grisella or Anastasia might say it. This morning, she asked me to talk like stepmother.

I’d find it outright disturbing, except that this morning, when Maya was play-acting to be me, I asked her what Mama says. “Mmmm. I’m cooking and making eggs and cheese for Maya.” So, I guess I’m not entirely evil. Yet.

We’ve gone cold turkey on diapers, as of Friday, November 2. This is technically round 2 of CT, but the first time, I allowed (okay, required) pullups and/or diapers at night. Now, we’re entirely without. So far, two poopy pants (one per day, ick), and one wet bed, but no wet accidents during the daytime. Maya has been informed that princesses do *not* poop in their pants, and once she poops in the potty instead, she can resume her pink sparkly dress-up time. Cruel, perhaps, but the heart of training is learning what motivates the trainee. And that dress is *quite* motivating.

I’m late mentioning this — here, at least — but looking below, I realized I’ve never formally announced that Mike and I are expecting baby #2 in mid-March 2008! We learned last month that Baby 2 is a boy, and it’s been a blast preparing. Fortunately, I have some fab friends who provided hand-me-downs to make the wardrobe needs less painful. As my part in the Karma train, I passed Maya’s NB/0/3/6 clothing on to Mike’s sister, who’s scheduled to have her second — a baby girl, of course — in 8 days. Wow! Just a week left! We figure if we ever have another, we’ll deal with it then…but since we have no idea whether that child will ever exist, much less be a girl, it would be silly to hold onto clothing that our family could use instead!

Final update for this post: we finally know some more details about our move. Oh, I haven’t mentioned that either, have I? We expect to move to Vienna, Austria within the next two months, and by this time next week, we should have more of the details from Mike’s employer-to-be. It’s a bit intimidating to move to a country where English isn’t the primary language (and I don’t know German at all!), but it should be a fun adventure for all of us.

Last thoughts: It’s coming to be time to phase out this blog (but keep the domain, of course, for Maya’s future use!), and move to a family site, especially with the new addition and move to Europe. I’m toying around with site names, but haven’t really hit on anything I love yet. It’s entirely possible that I’ll repurpose my personal blog as a family blog…but we’ll see. Then, I’d have to decide what (if anything) to do with all those not-so-subtle posts that dig inside my head, huh?

Maya: Apple? Apple?

Me: Sure, you can have an apple.

Maya: Whole apple!

Me: No, babe. Last time we did that, you took five bites, then threw the rest away. You can have apple slices. (Sliced apple.)

Maya: APPPPPLLLLLE! APPPPLLLLLE!

Me: Here it is. (Handing her apple slices on a cutting board.)

Maya: NO! WHOLE apple! (falls on the floor in the quiet prelude to a scream)

Me: (ignore Maya)

Maya: (Grabs apples slices and chomps them down.)

Guess it DOES still taste okay when chopped up.

Amazing what three dollars’ worth of flowers can do for a room, isn’t it?

You know you’ve watched entirely too much Blue’s Clues when you prepare scrambled eggs with a French accent — and it seems like the most normal thing in the world.

There are so many times that I need my camera nearby, but it’s not in reach. Ah, if only I had a wand. But, alas, my camera is in my purse, and walking to my purse would ruin the moment.

Maya sits in a chair by my living room window (just outside the office) giving a lecture to all who might listen. She’s impossibly small compared to the kitchen chair she’s in, but she’s as comfortable as can be and talking away, patiently waiting for me to be ready to head to the gym.

A few moments ago, I was sure she was inconsolably upset after her balloon from dinner the other night “died.” She had a hard time grasping the concept that I couldn’t “fix” the balloon. I love toddlerhood at times like this, when her attention span is so short, she’s already moved on from the death of her playtoy.

An ongoing conversation:

Maya, would you like some breakfast?
NO!
Would you like something to eat?
Yessssss!

I wonder what the meaning of “breakfast” is in her toddler mind? How has it become something that somehow doesn’t involve eating?

Tylenol meltaways, at first glance, seem to be a fantastic idea. I mean, you get meds into a teething toddler who typically otherwise spits liquid medicine back out at you.

The “good idea” part comes into question when said toddler starts to beg for Tylenol, because pink bubble-gum flavored meds seem SO much like candy.

Maya’s two side incisors are coming in just enough now to become part of her smile (barely). Dear lord, it’s cute.

Dogs, plural. Soon to be Dog, singular.

Clay, my not-a-bitch dog, has snapped at Maya a few times here and there, and I’ve kept an eye on it, but until recently it’s been nothing I’ve worried much about. Until this past weekend. There was food involved, and I know that’s something I can manage…but he drew blood, and that is my personal place to “draw the line.” At the end of this month, we’re taking a road trip to Tucson to return Clay to his breeder.

What makes this even more difficult is that Clay seems to know. He’s been on his best play-bowing and generally being cute behavior ever since Saturday. Oh, puppy, do you have to make this so difficult? It’s been a wonderful five years, and I’ll miss him horribly. But, he’ll have a wonderful home, and if he stays with his breeder, perhaps he’ll even get to run agility. That dog *loves* agility.

On the bright side, this gives Maya and me and excuse to visit family in Albuquerque on the way down and back.

When I pull this site up, Maya looks at the profile photo and exclaims, “baby!”

Think it’s time for me to update? Really?

These days you…

• …have discovered your shadow. It didn’t scare you, just fascinated you — you couldn’t seem to understand why that thing on the wall moved when you did.
• …run everywhere you go. Why walk, when running’s so much more fun?
• …spin like a whirling dervish for absolutely no reason. Then you stop and look around to be sure I’m watching and laughing with you.
• …eat apple slices as if they were watermelon. It’s pretty funny to see you hold a small piece of apple in both hands, and munch down the middle. It’s not as funny to find the discarded peelings, usually with my bare feet.
• …torment the dogs. Today, when I wasn’t looking (bad mama?), you cornered Clay in his crate and he nipped you. The idea that I could have to give up the dogs one day terrifies me. Then again, almost immediately after, you wanted Clay to be your best friend again. You offered food. He accepted the apology.
• …know that I have a small container of mini-M&Ms on the shelf with your diapers. They’ve worked their magic to keep you from struggling and rolling during changes, but you’re a bit too smart for your own good. Earlier today, you insisted that you needed a diaper change, even though you were clean and dry.
• …have started to head-bang. You’d do some 80s hair-band groupies proud. After you learned that I wasn’t falling for your trickery to get M&Ms, you pitched a 2-hour-long mother of all tantrums, complete with slamming your head on the (carpeted, thank god) floor. I hope the headache was worth it. You still didn’t get the candy.
• …love hiking as much as I do. This one makes me all warm-and-fuzzy inside. I can’t even tell you how happy I am that you like being outdoors. I wish I were able to take you outside all the time, all day long. I also wish you could understand why I can’t.
• …make up songs all. the. time. What are you singing? Beats me…but you’re pretty emphatic about it.
• …speak your own language. Some of my friends’ kids the same age are already using 2- and 3-word sentences. You’re not. You use signs. You use single words. You get your point across, and that’s enough for you right now. You also deliver long lectures in Klingon. When you finally decide to talk for real, you might actually give *me* a run for my money.
• …talk to strangers. You flirt with them, even. I still love taking you places, and even feel a little bit lost when you’re not with me. It’s good for me to get time away, but you’re so much of who I am.
• …need more time with other kids. I’m working on that whole “job outside the home” thing, and I know it will be the best option for us both. Just the same, when I consider how many fewer hours I’ll have with you, I’m sad.
• …make my heart swell until I think it could burst. You’re funny. You’re smart. You’re stubborn. You’re active. You’re gorgeous. The best compliment I get, ever? “Wow, you two look just alike.”

Scott and his girlfriend are coming out for a visit and they’re going to be away from home for a couple weeks. While they’re gone (and here), Scott’s Netflix will come to my house. Crash (which I started to watch while in Seattle last Fall, but was soooo tired) arrives tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to seeing a real-honest-to-god adult movie.

How pathetic is it that I’m more excited about getting Potty Power from amazon today?

You know you’re a parent when…

You leave the door from the house to the garage open, as you get ready to leave. You look for the missing dog, and find her in your vehicle (in the cabin, rather than in the back with the handy dog-barrier. She’s eating all of the toddler remnants scattered around.

Instead of getting grossed out, you think (almost happily) about how much time cleaning the car she’s saving you. The only downside is wondering if any of it will make said dog puke later.