Why, Oh Why, Oh Why...

I always thought it was cute when other people's children were so inquisitive. Around the age of 2 1/2, my nephew started asking "Why" about everything and I just wanted to kiss his little blonde head and pinch his adorable cheeks and cuddle his cute little self every time he said it. I loved it.

My sister cautioned me...(I forget the exact words but it was something along the lines of "Just you wait!")

Some of my friends have kids between the age of my nephew and Angelica's age, and they started doing it. And I said, "Aww, how adorable! How inquisitive!"

And swore up and down that I would be tickled pink when my own daughter started asking "Why?"

Earlier this week, Angelica and I were playing in the back yard, when she asked to go inside and watch Dora. She had taken her shoes off, so I said, "Take your shoes inside and we'll go watch Dora."

She says: "Why?"

I reply: "Because I asked you to."

She says: "Why?"

I reply: "Because it's not nice to leave your things laying around."

She says: "No, it's nice!"

Little stinker :)

Another example...today, we went to the mall (shoe shopping for Angelica, her feet were getting too big for her shoes) and when we arrived, she said, "Go Mickey Mouse store!"

I replied, "Oh, this mall doesn't have a Mickey Mouse store."
"Why?"
"Because they didn't build one here."
"Why?"
"That's a great question, honey. I don't know why."

Or, another example: Last night, we spent the evening shopping and got home late. We ate dinner while watching Dora, and when it ended, she asked to watch it again and I told her we couldn't because it was time for a bath.

"Why mommy?"
"Because it's late."
"Why?"
"Because the clock says 9:15."
"Why?"
"Because we went shopping and got home late."
"Why?"
"Because we needed to measure your feet at the shoe store because your shoes are getting too small."
"Why?"
"Because you're growing up."
"Why?"
"That's a good question. A very good question."

Yeah. It's still cute. But it's not as cute when it's your own kid.

Two years ago today...

...was my last day of work as a non-mom. I was 39 weeks and 5 days pregnant.

It's funny, I remember so very little about that day. I know we went in for our final NST that day. I know I had been having contractions off and on that entire week and had been hoping, hoping, hoping that I would just go into labor. I was tired of being ordered off my feet by the doctor, tired of being in pain, and just tired in general. (I was never one of those pregnant ladies who couldn't sleep...I could have slept all day, every day!) I know we went out for dinner that night. I ate spicy food and seafood. Ahh, old wives tales. We walked around Target. (Against doctor's wishes!) We bought Angelica's laundry basket that day. The cashier asked when I was due. Then asked if I was having triplets. (Yep, she bypassed the twins and went right to triplets. THANKS LADY!)

I didn't go into full blown labor. I woke up on the 28th, the day of my scheduled induction, having more regular contractions. I had been at 2 CM after the NST the day before so I was SURE things were about to get going.

Admitted that night at 6pm for the induction. Still at 2 CM. Rats.

Angelica was born on the 29th.

It's surreal to think that I'm now coming up on that two year mark. That little baby I lugged around in my belly for nine months...which feels like it was just yesterday...is no longer a little baby. She's a little girl. A smart little girl who makes me proud every day.

I am such a sucker for nostalgia. :)

Angelica and her bandaids

About a month ago, after we moved into our new house, Angelica was reveling in the fact that we left the back door open for her to run in and out, in and out, in and out. (Scott and I were both outside so we could see her.) Well, as was sure to happen when a toddler is running around, she tripped and fell. Unfortunately, she tripped over the track to the sliding glass door and landed knee-first on the outdoor pavement and skinned her knee right up.

And she cried, and cried, and cried. And screamed. And then cried some more.

She has always been one to refuse being touched when she's hurt, but this was bad enough that I wanted to make sure it got cleaned and bandaged, so I broke out the Dora the Explorer bandaids and fought her tooth and nail to get that knee cleaned off and get the bandaid on it.

And then she screamed because she had a bandaid on and tried to rip it off. But we stopped her.

Oddly enough, ever since that day, she has been obsessed with bandaids...especially those of the Dora variety. Every single day, boo-boo or not, she asks for a Dora bandaid. And I put one on her. And the next day at some point, it falls off, and when she gets picked up after school she asks for one, and I put it on again. But it always has to go on the knee that I put it on that one day a month ago.

On Thursday, she actually wound up having a genuine boo-boo on her OTHER knee (another knee scrape...par for the course at this age it seems) so I opened the box of Dora bandaids and there was only one left. Oh, the horrors. She did NOT want me to put it on her boo-boo, but I did.

And Friday, we were all out. And she was bandaid-less. And FURIOUS about it.

Today we made a trip to Target (the point being to shop for her birthday, but also to retrieve the oh so necessary Dora bandaids) and before we could even get to the cash register, she had ripped open that box and demanded that I put one on her...even though her boo-boos are all healed.

The funny thing is, most kids will ask their mommies to kiss their boo-boos to make them better. Angelica always says, "No, Angelica kiss it better!" and then kisses her knee, and puts on her own bandaid. And then puts the wrapper in the trash. Without my asking.

Oh, my independent, clean-and-tidy, wonderful little girl.

As an aside, I had blood drawn this week and she insisted on kissing MY boo-boos all better over and over again. What a sweetheart.