In the WORLD???

I've had many heart-warming moments as a mother. Among them, Bryn's first smile at me, her first "I love you, Mommy," and the first time she picked up after herself without my having to ask.

Yesterday topped it all. My first "heart-in-the-throat-mouth-open-cannot-believe-you-said-that" moment.

We had our big day yesterday. First, the friend's birthday party at the jumping place. Bryn was having a blast as expected, but at one point she just gave me the sweetest, not-at-all-hurried hug (which was delightful, in itself). About halfway through the hug, she said, "You're the best mommy in the whole world."

I told her that I was so happy that I thought I might cry--a reaction that delighted her so much, she elected to say it a couple more times that day (just to get the big payoff, I'm sure.)

Not usually one to toot my own horn (and I'm technically thankful that Bryn's experience with mommies worldwide is somewhat limited--as it makes my chances a little better), but since I think she's the coolest kid in the universe, I appreciate the title while it lasts.

**Note: it was just last week that she announced that I wasn't her friend anymore (repeated about six times in rapid succession so I REALLY got that I wasn't her friend). So I do understand that all is vanity, as Ecclesiastes suggests.

Menu Plan Monday

I may have mentioned that I like to make lists. In particular, I like to make lists of things that I can actually accomplish. There are a few things that I get around to that aren't on a list, but those few things won't win a person any medals (i.e., shower daily, wash clothes, go to work). Generally, I have to plan things or life just happens to me....one day at a time...and then I look back and think, "geez, where does the time go?" I've had to get a lot more organized about running the household so that I can enjoy life more or else all of my time is taken up just getting the bare minimum done. SO... I've started really planning meals.

I love to cook, but have a really difficult time planning to do it. In the past month, I've started planning meals for the week, going grocery shopping either Saturday or Sunday, and basking in the mindlessness of coming home and starting to cook without fretting about what or where.

Laura at www.orgjunkie.com hosts Menu Plan Monday and if you head over to her blog, you'll see jillions upon jillions of plans. She (and probably all others participating) plans from Monday to Sunday. Since my deal is Sunday to Saturday, I'm a little out of step, but I'll see how it goes.

Sunday 11/11: Tuscan Tilapia, angel hair, and salad. I am in love with this dish. Have to put Bryn to bed but I'll type up the recipe next time. MMMMM. and EASY... my favorite combination.

Monday: Baked Spaghetti, salad, corn, rolls

Tuesday: Pork Chops, peas, parmesan noodles (noticing a "P" theme tonight--and also that I've fed my folks noodles for three days)

Wednesday: Hamburgers, beans, oven fries

Thursday: out--I'll be out of town for most of the day, then need to bake some pies for an office potluck and school bake sale.

Friday: sandwiches, but haven't thought beyond that (Technically, Beau will be working cattle some evening this week, so I'll have a left over meal that will likely substitute.)

Saturday: piece something together because we have a big day with a friend's birthday party, fall festival, craft fair, and some other stuff that will surely NOT be making a grocery list for next week or planning for Thanksgiving.

Trick or Flashlight

Halloween has never been a big deal to me. Now that we have a child, however, I feel considerable pressure to "do" all the holidays. There's only one problem (okay, there may be more problems, but one really big one.).

We have a little policy at our house. Perhaps I've mentioned it. Limited to no unnecessary sugar consumed by people for whom the grown-ups of the family have assumed responsibility for their dietary and dental health.

It's fairly easy policy to abide by in normal life, and the rule has relaxed somewhat in the past few months--for those of you who are close to calling us un-American or cruel. But Halloween is one of those days (are there more?) that exist for nearly the express purpose of encouraging people to beg for and consume large amounts of unnecessary sugar. That's the whole entire point. Nothing more to it to come close to redeeming the holiday.

So this is Bryn's third Halloween (fourth if you count being three weeks old). Each of the three years, she has dressed up even though we didn't go trick-or-treating, usually for a party at school.

At one, she was a duck, thanks to a homemade, puffy costume that my mom made that has passed down through all the grandkids. She happened to be taller than the earlier guys, so the pants rode up a little bit. But, c'mon, can you get cuter than that?

At two years old, she was a giraffe (again, a hand-me-down, that was a "smidge" too small, although you would never know by the sheer delight that the costume brought the sweet thing.)

She is definitely learning the holiday customs and norms, so I was starting to wonder how long we could get away with not trick-or-treating. So we decided on a compromise. She could get dressed up, and we would take a walk around the block. The kicker--which nearly trumped it all--was that we were going to carry flashlights. Mom, Dad, and Bryn all had mini-flashlights of their own. She thought that was the coolest.

So, at three, Bryn was a princess. I'd have to say, the most beautiful princess ever there was to be. Some of the neighbors were sitting in their driveways handing out candy and would offer it as we walked by. Beau would simply say, "no thanks, we're just walking." I felt compelled each time (again with my issues) to explain: "See, we're just taking a walk around the block in her costume with a flashlight because we don't really let her eat candy. No, no, it's okay. It's just our thing. You know. Might not last, but she's fine with it one more year. ... She's really enjoying her flashlight." Then I'd run to catch up with the family.

The one drawback I see to not associating more closely the dress-up walk with Halloween in particular, is that Bryn asks to do that nearly every day now as we drive up to the house. So far, we've managed to talk her down each time to just carrying the flashlight.

Astronomy Lesson Part Two: Student becomes the Teacher

Following my miserable attempt at explaining (away) day and night, I have pledged to be more precise in my answers to the flood of three-year-old "whys." Even ventured a little science lesson on the way to school this morning. After several days of overcast, fall weather, the sun was shining brightly this morning.

I mentioned to Bryn that the sun is really a big, big star. (smiling to myself that I had gotten it right this time, and that I would little by little add to what she knew about the solar system--and correctly from here on out.) I think her first response was "Oh." But about a mile later, she added.

"Mommy, the sun is a biiiiig, biiiiiggg CIRCLE, not a STAR."

Honestly, how can you argue with that?

Still 2, but counting down

It struck me that today is nearly a trifecta of 2-ness. October 2 and Bryn is two...at least for another week.

I was looking through some pictures last night, so thought I'd pull some quickly to capture her 2nd year.

At her 2nd Birthday party...
(October)

Christmas morning....

At the Wildflower Center...

(April)

At the beach for the first time...

(July)

And kickin' it with all her fairy friends. (August)

She's grown so much in the past year. The "terrible twos" weren't at all terrible. We've enjoyed watching her grown, learn, and develop into a precious, thoughtful, determined, smart, beautiful little girl.

Mini-Me

As Bryn nears three years old, I'm constantly taken with how many of my words and idiosyncrasies are telegraphed back to me like SONAR or something. I hear plenty of Beau in Bryn's words, too, particularly when she's pretending to be on the phone.

Yesterday, Bryn and I went to the grocery store while Beau was out working cattle. She is an AWESOME helper when properly rested. Cart selection is a big deal at our grocery store. There are carts that have working radios (at $1 per visit--only used once, but still a temptation), regular carts, little carts that Bryn can push but that don't hold very much, and the find-of-all-finds the cart built to look like a race car. The race car carts are such commodities that they have their own covered parking out in the parking lot--strategically placed by the "Customers with Children" parking. The wise people at HEB have it ALL figured out.

We apparently were due some good fortune because there was a red race car cart with our name all over it--totally out of place in the normal "cart corral" right by my normal parking space. So Bryn carefully buckled into her seat and commenced to "drive" all through the grocery store.

I was searching for a package of ground beef with a tolerable amount of fat mixed in (I'm really a 90% lean kind of gal regardless of application), when I hear Bryn (leaning over the edge of her "car") saying, "I want a cheeseburger, fries, and a milk....white milk." I must have chuckled audibly because she offered, over her shoulder, "I'm pretending. I take it home." By the time we made it to dairy, she was leaning out punching all manner of imaginary buttons. I asked what she was pretending now.

"I have to go to the bank," she said.

Is it wrong for a three-year old to know how to use an ATM?

An Astronomy Lesson

As we drove home last night from dinner (after I embarrassingly overcooked my roast, I simply couldn't ask the people I love to endure it...even though they would have if given no other options--because they love me), we were explaining to Bryn what to expect when we get home. She--like her mother (or perhaps because of her mother)--loves lists.

"First, we'll drive home. Then, we'll take a bath. And then, we'll pick out and read books. And then, we'll go night-night." Sometimes she'll correct missing steps in the list like putting on PJs or brushing teeth, but it's a pretty standard routine.

Wednesday night had a gorgeous full moon that was fairly low in the sky. Bryn asked where the sun was, and I offered the painfully inaccurate explanation "The sun has gone to sleep." As an educator, I should know better. I just created a neural pathway that will have to be corrected later on simply because it was the first thing I thought of. Nice work, Mom.

Last night, however, was cloudy, so we could not see the moon on our drive home. Bryn started asking again about the moon and sun, but this time she offered a pretty thorough description of what was probably going on in the heavens. I'm paraphrasing considerably, but it went something like this.

"Maybe the daddy and mommy moon are getting ready to wash he. Yes, the daddy moon is giving the baby moon a bath to get ready for night-night, and the mommy moon is reading books, and the sun is at school playing with her friends."

I wish I could remember all the details because it went on for a while and ended up with "Maybe that's it."

Yep, honey... maybe so.