Mommy's Best Kisses

A parent of one of my second-graders this past year gave me a book for my birthday in June. It is a book she used to read to her boys when they were little and she said it became a favorite. She wrote me a note saying she hoped Olivia would enjoy it as much as her kids did. She loves it. It's called Mommy's Best Kisses and it's a sweet story about a mom putting her baby to bed, but not before she kisses him all over. Each page has a darling animal mom kissing her baby on his "strong arms" (a monkey), "pink knees" (an ostrich), "rosy cheeks" (a hippo), and so on.

Olivia has especially taken to the "plump tummy" (a piglet) and "wee nose" (an elephant) and uses those descriptive words often. She's told both Evan and I that we have plump tummies, right before planting a kiss on them.

Yesterday, I was kissing her cheeks so I said, "I'm kissing your rosy cheeks!" and then I started kissing her all over, trying to remember the book for memory. I went through all the animal pages in my head as I announced each body part I was kissing. "Your wee nose! Your pink knees! Your soft hair! Your little toes! Your sleepy eyes --" She stopped me right there.

"DROWSY eyes!" she corrected.

And now a lesson on synonyms...

Here's the book. Buy it for anyone who's expecting a baby.

Cake - part duex

Wondering how the pink, pretend baby/balloon cake turned out? (see July 22).

Here she is...

Can I just tell you how hard it was to find little babies to stick on a cake?!

I made (60) cake pops for the rest of the guests, and Olivia ended up wanting one of those at her party, which means she got her cake the next day...after breakfast.

Methodically picking off and devouring

each balloon.

The aftermath. She took off and put back on every baby - about three times. She decided she had had enough when the messiness of her hands started bothering her (or was it the queasy feeling in her stomach?)

Purple and red and tan all over

In the shower the other day, Olivia was playing with her bath friends - Coral, a mermaid with purple hair, and Barbie - a Barbie-like Sleeping Beauty character. I was showering with Olivia, so was able to observe the interaction she was attempting to create amongst the three of them. It was awkward. She had Coral and Barbie facing each other, ready for a conversation, and was making them hop a little, like they were talking to one another, but clearly, couldn't think of anything for them to say. So I helped out:

(to Coral, in an obnoxious high-pitched voice) "Hi Coral. I like your purple hair!"

(to Barbie, ) "Thanks, Barbie. I like the blue streaks in your hair." (It's never too soon to teach Olivia that hair-talk dominates most girl conversations.)

I then let Olivia take over. She immediately said to her friends, "I'm Olivia and I'm red!"

Not convinced I had heard her correctly, I asked for clarification. "You're what?"

"I have red hair. And tan skin!"

True, after being at the pool the last four days...let's reassess this tan-skin business in February.

Let me just say, I know I write a lot (a LOT) about mine and Olivia's brief discussions about God, often at bedtime, but I just have to blog it. This is a journal of our life, and these are things we talk about.

Tonight at bedtime, I was thanking God (aloud) for all his blessings - our family, our home, our cozy soft beds. I told Olivia that every good thing we have is from God. She said, "He's in heaven."

Me: Who else is in heaven?

Olivia: Jesus.

Me: That's right. Jesus is in heaven with God. Who else is there?

Olivia: My grandpa (my dad). And my other Grandpa (my dad's dad). And Great-Gram (she's alive).

I assured her, again, that Great-Gram is not in heaven yet, but will be there soon.

We've only talked about her two grandpas in heaven once and it was a couple weeks ago, so it was sweet to hear her refer to my dad not just as "grandpa," but "my grandpa." He would LOVE her. Funny enough, one of her favorite songs right now is "When we all get to heaven" (from her kids' hymns CD :) which says "When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be!" I can't help but look forward to that joyous reunion.

God IS good!

Olivia requested an additional song at bedtime tonight. Since I had already sung to her, prayed with her, put her blankie over her, and rubbed her back, I told her no. However, I gave her permission to sing to herself (aren't I altruistic?). As I walked out of her room, I could hear her sweet little voice softly singing, "God is so good...God is so good...God is so good, he's so good...to...me."

A little background:

We've been singing that song a lot recently. It started with a trip to the grocery store several weeks ago. As we were leaving, I mentioned that I was thankful that God gave (gives) us enough money for food and the things we need...and then I started singing "God is so good" in the Cub parking lot. Since then, we sing it often and with purpose. We frequently sing it as we reflect on the events of the day, usually at bedtime, as I am reminded of what a blessed life we have. I so want to raise a grateful child! I want her to be thankful for everything we have...while not giving her everything.

No es bueno

Olivia and I came zipping home at 7:00 tonight from an evening of swimming at the pool. Antsy because 7:00 is my bedtime target for her, even if we usually miss, I called Evan to let him know we'd be home in a few minutes. He told me he had just pulled a pizza out of the oven, so I asked him to cut up a piece for Olivia and have it and her milk ready for us when we rolled in. He had dinner set up on the porch when we arrived.

I've had better pizza. This was Mexican frozen pizza - cheddar cheese, sausage chunks, green onions, diced tomatoes atop a tangy not-quite-tomato-sauce-but-not-exactly-taco-sauce-either paste. Pie and I were both hungry enough to eat the first several bites without complaining. However, around bite five, she dug in her heels and started refusing the stuff. I didn't push it, mostly because it didn't seem healthy enough, in my opinion, to force it on her. Also, my red, green and brown rejects were conspicuously scattered across my own plate. I gave her a banana with peanut butter and a dish of yogurt and strawberries to round out the meal instead.

When Pie was done, I cleaned her off and started to remove her bib. It was then she spied something peculiar in the pouch of her vinyl bib. "Poop," she declared. Sitting in her bib was a lone sausage ball.

Not too far off...

I heart Grandpa

After bath time the other night, I grabbed a clean onesie for Olivia to wear with her pajama pants - yes, she's old enough to be wearing pajama pants to bed, but still babyish enough to pair them with a onesie. As soon as she spied it, she said "I love Grandpa shirt!" (Blue onesie with 'I love Grandpa' stitched on it)

"Do you love Grandpa? Grandpa loves you. You have two grandpas."

"Grandpa Jones and Grandpa Jim," she replied. It surprised me how quickly and accurately she recalled this.

"You have a great grandpa, too - Great Grandpa Bauman. He's Mommy's grandpa. Mommy had another grandpa, too, but he's in heaven. You have another Grandpa in heaven with Jesus, too. You'll get to meet Grandpa Dahlen and Great Grandpa Dahlen in heaven someday. They will be excited to see you!"

Olivia listened to what I said, processed, and then said "God's friends."

Friends of God, indeed.

1, 2, whatever

I took Olivia to her first play last week. It was a kid-friendly, condensed version on "Annie." On the way to the play, I gave O a heads-up on what to expect: clapping, lights-out periods between scenes, laughing, quiet listening, etc. I told her we would be watching kids perform a story, to which she said, "I'm a kid."I confirmed, yep, she was a kid.

O: You're a kid, Mom.

Me: Nope, I'm a grown-up.

O: I'm a grown-up.

Me: Nope, you're a kid. You won't be a grown up until you're 18. That's a long time from now because you're only two.

O: (her word-for-word answer) I'm one, Mom. (only the "duh" is implied...)

I guess "rounding up" doesn't work for a 23-month-old.

BTW, she did great during the play. She became immediately obsessed with the dog, Sandy, played by a 10-year-old girl in a dog costume, and asked, "Where'd the puppy go?" every time dog-girl left the stage.

Olivia was whining while I was rinsing dishes this morning. She wanted to be held or played with and didn't want to wait for my kitchen work to be done. She sort of slipped on the rug and fell in a heap at my feet. "I bumped myself!" she whined. Not wanting to play too much into the drama, but also wanting to acknowledge her, I asked matter-of-factly, "Where should I kiss you?" Expecting her to say "my head," she surprised me with "In the playroom."

Several of our family members, myself included, are fighting colds right now. It just seems wrong to have a drippy nose and sore throat in August. Yesterday, I took Olivia and her cousin James to story time. While in the car, Jimmy let out a major, juicy cough. Olivia congratulated him with, "Good cough, buddy!"

This morning's breakfast conversation:

Olivia: I'm getting married.

Me: You are?! To who?

O: A nice boy.

Me: What's his name?

O: Jesus is a nice boy.

Me: Jesus is nice, but he lives in heaven. You can't marry him (as if that's the only reason that arrangement wouldn't work.)

O: Great-gram lives in heaven.

Me: Not yet. She'll live there soon, but not yet. (We had had that conversation last week.)