Last Weekend

Our week has been pretty craptacular. Instead of talking about that, let's take a look at last weekend, which was quite nice.

Yo-Yo Ma and Lil Buck

Seeing what this guy can do with his ankles is enough reason to watch this.

Body, Baby, Burnout

Body
Sergio and I joined a gym about three weeks ago. We didn't have enough internal motivation to stop expanding our pant sizes, so we spent money and signed a contract. We work better with external motivation. We are still trying out different workouts and routines and classes to see what works best for us now. This method pretty much guarantees that we wake up every morning with a newmuscle group so sore that we can't move or our legs give out. In fact, the second day in the gym my arm cramped in a place I would have sworn contained no muscles. Sergio and I both tried desperately to stretch the cramp out, but could neither one determine exactly where it was or how to reach it through stretching. That was less than fun. What is also less than fun is the fact that so far I have put on two pounds. I understand the whole muscle = weight thing, but weight gain is definitely discouraging.
I also bought a couple of rounds in a tanning bed. Don't gripe at me. I realize I am very pale and they are very dangerous. But I have developed eczema on my FACE! And prescription medication only helped it to a point. So I bought a few rounds in the tanning bed to see if it helps. The answer seems to be...a little...temporarily. However, in the wise words of one of my students, "Mrs. Barron, if you can't tone it, tan it." So I will finish out the last few appointments and then switch to spray tanning.
Baby
In the interest of full disclosure, the day after I wrote that Rosalind is a sweet kid and doesn't get much timeout, she totally got timeout at daycare for whacking another kid in the head with an elephant toy. Her kindness has it's limitations I guess.
Burnout
And lastly, when I was getting my Master's we were told that about 75% of our class would burn out by year five. And I think this week has shown me exactly how that happens. It isn't the annoying kids or the rude parents or the nice parents that are accidentally overbearing or the long hours or the grading of papers or even the crazy ever-changing government mandates. It is being a Junior class sponsor and having to throw prom. This Saturday at 11:15 pm you can find me in the closest bar to my school having a drink as big as my head. Prom planning can suck it.

Birthday Girl

Dear Rosalind,

You turned two about two and half weeks ago. Since you thought it would be fun to drown the computer in chocolate milk a few weeks before that we haven't gotten around to posting. Daddy finally brought home his work computer, so here we go.
THE TERRIBLE TWO'S!!!!! Except, not entirely. You began to test your boundaries around 18 months and we already dealt with the temper tantrums, biting, hitting, pulling hair, etc. And none of those things ever happened all at once. It was as though we would get it through to you that biting was inappropriate and you would then try hair pulling on for size. You also never did that stuff to us, but saved it for playmates at daycare. I am glad, if hesitant, to say that you have only gotten time out once at school in the last two months. In fact, you are very sweet. More of a caretaker than a troublemaker. You still love baby dolls and real life babies and play the big sister/mommy role for the most part.
What has been the most surprising thing about TWO! and the few months before it is how loving you are. You constantly run up and give our knees the best bear hugs for no apparent reason, and blow kisses when we leave you, and crawl into our laps and hug us tight and say, "Awuvyu," and most adorably of all, you make a satisfied moan/grunt thing when you give hugs. Kind of like grandmothers hug their grandkids when they haven't seen them in a while. I was all prepped for the constant timeout giving and stern lectures associated with two, but so far it has been a steady increase of affection.
On the other hand, you are almost abusive with your affection. When I say you crawl into our laps, I mean you rake your tennis shoes up our legs and down our chests and poke your knees in our faces and elbow our guts in your attempt to get in whatever position you were going for. Sometimes you like to put your face right up against ours and will clamp onto our heads tightly and smash your nose right into our noses. I wake up most days wondering where I will find the next bruise. But it's pretty great as long as I see it coming and have time to take evasive action.
You've chosen this time to go almost entirely off veggies, even the ones you have always loved. I sneak baby food into your mac and cheese. That gummy candy you like is really a vitamin. The only juice you get at home is V8 Fusion. Don't mess with me. I'm the mommy. Ha. Actually, for the most part we simply ignore your eating oddities and you seem to come back to things after awhile. I'm rooting for broccoli's return any day now.
We don't know who taught you this but you came home and started karate-chopping the air and kicking while yelling "hi-ya!" Now we have you kick everyone because it is crazy cute.
You can count to ten but almost never show us when we ask. You definitely don't know your ABC's but you do know the tune to the song sung only as Abc's abc's abc's abc's. You can identify a square, circle, triangle, star, diamond, and heart most of the time. You have recently dropped the word please and inserted the word okay instead. What was once, "Mama, I yant canny, peas?" is now, "Canny, okay." Except, think whinier. "Potty, okaaaaay." "Night, night, okaaaay." "Go play, okaaaaaaaaaaaaay, OKAAAAAAY."
Speaking of the potty...umm, let's work on that one. You pee on the floor more often than a new puppy. You were doing well once, but now tell us you need to potty as you stand there going. Then you waddle spraddle-legged to the bathroom so that nobody could possibly ignore what has happened.
You love to point out big trucks, you call every color either pink or green, and you know which car is our car. You are long and lean and have very little baby left in you. You are too old for a pacifier but I know that strangers probably think you are WAY too old because you look like a complete little girl and not a barely two year old.
I would encourage you to slow down but I really like every new little person you become even more than the last. Happy 2nd birthday, Rolo!

Love,

Mama

It Was 82 Degrees

Why we are absentee bloggers.

Stick with us while we get through this blogging dry spell. Rosalind killed our Mac with some chocolate milk. I can post from Sergio's phone but I am not tech savvy enough to figure out why it won't let me post pictures. It is also daunting to type on this little screen. Posts to come...
Rosalind turned two!
Playing in the creek.
Joining a gym and stuff.
And other topics probably but LOTS of pictures.