Name That Garment

Okay Internets -- time to help a girl out!

I have a friend I used to teach with, whose daughter is about a year older than Harper. Every once in a while she will call and say she has some clothes for us and then drop of enormous bags of clothing. It is wonderful. All manner of things arrive in these bags: shirts, shoes, party dresses (seriously, Harper's been to a couple of weddings and never had to buy her a dress to wear), tights, sweats, winter coats, pajamas, you name it. When I purchase clothes for Harper I tend toward buying things in outfits -- otherwise I'm likely to end up with seventeen shirts but only one pair of pants for her to wear in the winter. Sometimes I'll buy several mix and match items, but I'm pretty conscious of keeping an even top to bottom ratio. Anyway. . .

When I get these bags of clothes one of the first things I do is sort them out. We donate the stuff we just won't use (typically very little) and then I attempt to figure out which items, if any, go together. Normally this isn't too difficult to figure out, but once in a while I run into something, which may have been part of a pair or a set, and I just can't figure out what it's intended purpose is.

Exhibit A:

(Clicking the photo should allow you to see a larger image.)

Now obviously that is a shirt, but what kind? It is a print, 100% cotton, long sleeved something from The Children's Place. It if had come with an obvious bottom partner, I would probably have been able to figure it out, but it did not. I think it's the piping (?) around the neck that gives me pause. Is it a shirt Harper can wear with jeans? An undershirt? Pajamas? Something I'm not thinking of? I don't want to take her to the park and hear the other adults wonder aloud why she was sent out to play in pajamas.

So I am calling on the wisdom of the internet. I invite you to do one of two things:

1) Leave a comment telling me what the heck the top's intended purpose is.

2) Tell me how silly I am for worrying about it and that I should not worry what people think when Harper wears pajamas to a birthday party.

Strange Conversation

Eight more days until my big project is finished!

Eight more days until the beginning of NaBloPoMo.

But I am interrupting my self-imposed internet semi-ban to bring you this story:

Harper and I were driving out to campus today to drop something off with my adviser. She was talking and telling me stories for the entire drive.

First she started talking about going to a pillow class tomorrow and how she had to practice for her lesson.

Then she started talking about going to visit God. God's house, apparently, is far, far away in the woods. God has two puppies and some babies. God has a sandbox just like Harper's. God is also a girl and apparently Harper's friend. Harper said she can take food from God's daddy but not God's mommy, because God's mommy's food has peanuts in it. If God's mommy tries to give Harper food, she will just say no thank you. I am supposed to drop Harper off at God's house and they will drive her home when she and God are finished playing.

Just as she was starting to creep me out a little with all the talk about visiting God, (Not because I think God is creepy, but because I worried that Harper knew something I didn't.) she told me that God actually has lots of babies and that she gets them at the store.

I asked if she meant baby dolls. And that's when Harper said:

"No mom, real babies. They are called bubble babies and grass and baby trees come out of their butts."

Cue hysterical laughter from the backseat.

"Isn't that funny Mom?"

Oh dear, I now think that our child might be the bad influence at the preschool snack table.

I guess it is probably time to stop sprinkling LSD on her breakfast cereal.

In other news, tonight we pulled out the first footie pajamas of the season!




Harper hopes your tootsies are toasty tonight!

The Ups and Downs

Dear Internets,

I am sorry it has been so long since I posted here. I am also sorry that I am apologizing, as I have heard it is tacky to apologize for not writing on your own blog. So here I am, back after an absence of over a week, and I've already committed two acts of bad blogging manners. Sigh.

If you are, in fact, still visiting here, looking for updates, I have good news and bad news. First the bad news (it's always best to get it out of the way, no?). . . as the deadline for the culmination of work for my degree rapidly approaches, posting is likely to remain scarce. You see, I must sleep, I have tried not sleeping and it just isn't working for me. So, for the next two weeks, 98% of my computer time will be spent on my project, leaving only 1% for email and 1% for blogging. This means I am also unlikely to do lots of commenting on your blogs for the next two weeks. Don't worry, we'll all be okay.

Now the good news, to which there is two parts. . .

1) In two weeks (or so) I will be totally finished with my degree!!! And that, my friends, will be cause for a huge celebration.

2) I have officially signed up as a member of NaBloPoMo. If you are unfamiliar, that stands for National Blog Posting Month. NaBloPoMo takes place during November, as a sort of slacker response to the National Novel Writing Month, during which you attempt to write an entire novel during November (I'm not joking, it's actually a real thing). During NaBloPoMo, those of us who have signed up attempt to post something every single day for the entire month. I have even added the NaBloPoMo banner to the right hand side of my blog, so I am all official and I can't go back in a week, delete this post, and pretend we never had this conversation. I make no promises about the quality of posting that will occur during November, I only promise to do my best to post daily.

I see this as a good opportunity to share with you things that have been long neglected -- our Disney trip, my rant about children's bed rails (neglected since April), and some other odds and ends from our visit to Wisconsin in August and St. Louis in September. I warn you now that I may have some computer access issues the week of Thanksgiving, but I will do my best. And if you do hang in and read through November I can promise there will be some posts definitely worth your while, mixed in among the days when I can't think of anything more interesting that what Harper eats for lunch.


So, to summarize:

The rest of October = scanty posting and disappointed readers (really, I know how much you've missed us!).

November = you rewarded for your patience with daily posts!!! Please try to control your excitement.

***
And now, some ups and downs from the last week. . .

Up: Harper went to her first birthday party and it was a success -- she was even able to eat cake and ice cream, which can be tricky for children with peanut allergies. Believe me, we did everything humanly possible to make sure it was safe for her, and it was!

Down: Harper decided she wants a cat. When I explained that cat ownership will never be in our future because I am desperately allergic, she suggested I could just go live someplace else. For those of you keeping track, I am now officially less important to my daughter than a hypothetical cat. Nice.

Up: I introduced Harper to her first pair of child-scissors and we tried making some Halloween decorations for the window. Using the scissors resulted in this face:


Down: Harper refused any attempts I made to help her manipulate the scissors correctly, saying, "I don't want to do it the wite (right) way Mommy, I want to do it my way!" I am slightly nervous about the future implications of this attitude and how it might manifest itself in school one day. (Since it was our first try with the scissors, I let it go, figuring she has plenty of time to learn to do it correctly.)

Up: We've been on a couple of family walks; Matt, Harper, Rebound, and I. I will not take Harper and the dog by myself because Rebound is a maniac. During our family walks Harper keeps up beautifully, and spends the whole time exclaiming, "I really yike this! This is so much fun!"

Down: I now feel very guilty about the fact that we don't walk more often, since it brings the child as much joy as Christmas morning.

Up: Harper thinks tag, you're it, is the most hilarious game known to man. And my legs are just long enough that she can chase me around the yard and I don't have to actually run.

Down: Playing tag on a cool day sent us to the pediatrician after Harper started coughing and wheezing. She was so non-cooperative at the doctor's office, our doctor told her no stickers and suggested I revisit the incident with an appropriate consequence at home.

Up: One breathing treatment cleared up the wheezing, no dire diagnosis of persistent asthma at this point.

Down: The doctor declared, "She's really stubborn," and seemed totally exasperated by Harper's lack of cooperation.

And finally, you decide, up or down?

Harper has been having fun playing with the magic wand from her dress up box, but all attempts to turn me into a frog have been utter failures.

***

That should be a long enough post to keep everyone busy for a couple of days at least. I hope you are enjoying October, wherever you are!

Right Now There is Beverage Coming Out My Nose

I am in a frantic work state, trying to finish my last major school project for this degree, and Harper is playing happily behind me, with every toy known to man.

Including her cash register.

There are many imaginary customers going through her checkout line.

She is exchanging pleasantries, handing stickers to the imaginary kids, doling out change, etc.

Apparently a very good looking imaginary person just came through her line because I heard her say, no kidding, "Heyo (hello) handsome!"

Imaginary, But Important, Tragedy

Oh Harper.

One of the more delightful things about Harper's personality is her imagination. Though it occasionally slows us down, like when we're getting ready to go somewhere and she wants to bring Pinky. But we can't leave yet because Pinky is sleeping. Pinky is a Beanie Baby bear.

Harper has approximately one zillion stuffed animals and many of them are intimately related to one another. Her little bear in the yellow sleeper? Pooh Bear's baby. Kitty and Elephant? Best friends. Well last night there was a tragedy in the family comprised of Pinky, Penguin (Pinky's mommy), and Yellow Bear (not Pooh Bear's baby, a different yellow bear, who is Pinky's daddy). At some point Penguin had developed a hole. Matt discovered that Harper had been pulling stuffing out of the hole and stuffing it under her covers for Pinky. Well Harper has been known to put non-food items in her mouth, so wads of loose stuffing did not seem to be quality items for Harper to have in bed. Matt, being a safety-conscious and loving father, removed the stuffing and the ruined penguin.

And then hysteria set in.

I went into Harper's room to find her so distraught she could barely speak. She was flailing around on her bed and screaming. I picked her up, along with Pinky and Yellow Bear, and we all hunkered down in the rocking chair. After a little rocking and shushing, Harper finally calmed down long enough to explain why she was so upset.

You see Penguin, being Pinky's mommy, had to feed Pinky. She fed Pinky hot dogs (the stuffing) and that was her job. And when Penguin went away Pinky was so sad and hungry. And Yellow Bear, Pinky's dad, can't feed Pinky because that isn't his job.

"Pinky misses his mommy!" she wailed over and over, "Pinky is so sad."

And also? Pinky missed his hot dogs and was weally weally hungry!

And also? Harper was hadn't been able to fall asleep, was up waaaay too late, and we all know how sleep-deprivation can make a crisis seem much worse than it is.

Finally I just told Harper she and Yellow Bear would have to take extra good care of Pinky, who was obviously having a difficult night. She eventually accepted this and went to sleep.

Today Harper and Pinky seem to have recovered nicely. Although it wouldn't surprise me if, at some time in the future, we revisit the drama. It is hard to lose one you love so dearly, even if that one is a cheap carnival stuffed animal.

Rest in peace Penguin.

Me and My Llama. . .

Can anyone finish that Sesame Street sketch name?

Click here to see if you're right, and possibly enjoy a fond memory.

***

Yesterday marked Harper's first official visit to the dentist. I was nervous that we were in for a full-fledged meltdown, as discussions about the dentist have led to such remarks as:

"I don't yike the dentist!"

"I am not going to open my mouf at the dentist!"

"I won't sit in the chair for the dentist!"

Much to my surprise, she did great!


I was holding my breath nearly the entire time, waiting for Harper to totally freak out, but she was an angel.


I have to give a ton of credit to the hygienist, who is obviously skilled at working with children. She showed Harper everything before she used it, let her ask questions and touch things, and proceeded slowly, so as not to cause alarm.


Harper even let her polish and floss her teeth, which completely shocked me. Not that I expect Harper to be ill-behaved, but she has a history of being very tentative in new situations, of being wary of new people, and of freaking out at the doctor's office (where she was known, for a time, as The Girl Who Screams).

Nana was there, having stayed with Harper and then arrived at the dentist with her to see the end of my cleaning and exam. Ann (Nana) and I stood in the doorway, practically holding our collective breath, as Harper went from one part of the exam to another without incident.


The most difficult part? Picking a toy from the treasure chest.