Nurse, we need cheese, STAT

When injured, most of Stephanie's responses are very toddler typical.  Look of surprise.  Look to Mom to see if she is okay (who is no doubt grimacing because that really looked like it would hurt).  Realization that it does indeed hurt.  Face wrinkle, burst into sobby scream, run for Mom.  And here's where it takes a unique Stephanie turn.  When she starts to pull it together, she will inevitably gulp out, "I... want.... cheese..."  One to three slices of nearly any variety is the typical dosage, and it normally kicks in right away. Now, the question is, would our HSA cover it if I got a prescription and can anyone recommend a doctor that will prescribe cheese PRN?

Name Guilt

You know the fun of bringing home a pet and naming it?  Sometimes it's easy.  When I was 16ish, I told Mom that whenever we got another pet, I was going to name it Gizmo- fish, cat, dog, I didn't care.  Shortly after this declaration, we got to the river house, and there was a little orange cat in the yard.  It was clearly our Gizmo, who went on to live a long and happy life on the farm.  The name worked for her, and I never questioned it.  Years later, I brought Boston home.  I had him for several days before I could come up with a name.  I tried Lazlo, a la Real Genius, but it just didn't stick.  Finally, I came up with Boston because he was black and white and so annoyingly dog-like.  A few months later after I started dating Kevin, Kevin said that he thought Boston's real name was Pork Chop, which did seem right, but the name ship had sailed.  All of this to say that I think we really missed the boat on naming our most recent pet, Fatty.  Fatty was a small caterpillar that Kevin found in the garden for Stephanie.  She helped him capture Fatty and put him in a jar with fennel.  They covered the top of the jar with a very porous fabric, and periodically freshened his food.  I named him Fatty right away because he was, as promised in that wonderful book, a very hungry caterpillar.  Within a handful of days, he turned into a chrysalis, which, as far as I can tell, is a fancy man word for cocoon that is harder to spell and harder to pronounce correctly, thus making it the preferred term.  The name Fatty was still working for me, though.  Well, this morning, Kevin called upstairs that Fatty was a butterfly.  He rushed the jar upstairs to us, and we told Stephanie that we were going to set him free.  She thought to go out onto the deck of our bedroom and not back downstairs, which was really funny to me, because I forget that deck exists, and she came up with the idea just seconds ahead of Kevin.  At first, Fatty the butterfly (and this is where I am having a hard time with the name Fatty) looked a little deflated and unsure about flying, and we were afraid he/she wasn't going to make it  Stephanie was nonplussed, she merely said "I get new Fatty".  Fortunately, with a little rest, Fatty took off flying just wonderfully.  I hope Fatty has a good life, and maybe doesn't hate us for such an inappropriate moniker.

The first day with Fatty

A few days later, really living up to his/her name

The chrysalis is attached to the fabric on top

Fatty, the beautiful butterfly

Not looking so lively here, but was fine several minutes later

The (every other year) Yearly Meal

There are lots of things to love about Alaina, but I think the part where I can always tell her what I am thinking and the part where I can always expect the same might be my favorite.  My last few trips home, I have spent a lot of time in the car and visiting people.  I love to see the people, and I don't really mind the car, but in the end, it doesn't feel much like a break.  So this trip, I decided that if someone wanted to see me and Stephanie, they were going to have to come to us.  And that is what I told Alaina, because I can just tell her that.  She went for a run and came up with an excellent plan that involved her coming to me, which I felt a little bad about, but she said that she wanted to (the favorite part: She said she wanted to = I knew she did want to = guilt absolved).  Anyway, in what is becoming a bit of a tradition, we hit up a German restaurant (which are oddly hard to come by) for a good meal and beer with Stephanie in tow.  Stephanie did not have much of the meal (and obviously no beer, at least not that I noticed), but she mostly sat in her seat and mostly didn't disturb any other patron's meals.  Photo-bug Alaina made sure we captured the memory, just like we did 2 years ago in North Carolina.  Not a lot has changed since then.  Stephanie is a bigger and harder to take out to eat, and I apparently order larger beers now (which may or may not be connected to the part where Stephanie is harder to take out :)), but German food is still fried and covered in gravy, Alaina is still great company and we, apparently, still favor the same hair styles...

Family Camp

Stephanie has two camping books that she loves, and she pretends to camp at school, so Kevin picked this weekend for the first ever family camping trip.  I really enjoy camping, Kevin LOVES camping, so he went all in for this adventure.  He found a park on the lake that offered a hike-in trail with primitive camping sites.  Stephanie is a great walker, and it was a 4.8 mile loop, so we figured that if walking went quickly, we would do the whole loop, and if it didn't, we would hike in and then hike out.  The trails were quite manageable for Stephanie, but there was some hand holding to get over rocks and roots, and in the end, we walked in about 1 mile.

Yes, Kevin DID hike her bee pillow in, and OF COURSE Santa came!

At that point, we found an awesome spot to camp.  It was a little sooner than we planned on stopping, but we went for the super cool site.

In the end, it wasn't a bad idea to stop because Stephanie did not go to sleep very early (the tent was way cool and Mom and Dad in there too was just too exciting to get settled), so she was pretty tired in the morning and only walked about two-thirds of the distance out, choosing to take the Mom transport system the remaining length.  At the camp that night, she was really excited about roasting marshmallows, which she waved near the fire for a whole 6 seconds, took a bite, spit it out and declared "too soft".  But the chocolate and graham crackers were a hit, as was the hot dog dinner.

We all had a nice time.  Since she was tired this morning, I could not get a good sense of whether or not she would want to do it again soon, but I'll ask her sometime next week, and I'm sure by then we will be able to judge her true feeling on camping.  Either way, we are up for more camping and hope she enjoys it as much as we do!

And herein was the sleeping problem-  this is how she looked heading in for bedtime!

But no worse for the wear in the morning... Other than not wanting to walk a full mile back to the car.  Who can blame her?

Happy Easter-ween

Recently at the library, wearing her Jack-O-Lantern costume in June, Stephanie selected only one book, "Happy Easter, Curious George".  Which is all part of a day that illustrated Stephanie's spectacular memory, but less than firm grip on season.  Several hours before, at home,  Stephanie asked to look at a book that I had tucked away on a high bookshelf in her room.  It was a little book of prayers that Grams (her great-grandmother that she was named after) sent her.  It is still a little old for her (no pictures), so I put it up for a later time.  In it, was a Halloween card from Grams (these were not sent together, but apparently I thought a nice place to store a Halloween card was in a book of prayers).  She was super intrigued with the card, as Grams had decorated it with some stickers.  I say, "That is the card Grams sent you for Halloween."  Within seconds, Stephanie left the room and bee-lined for my closet and is standing at the door to the attic repeating something completely incoherent to me.  There is possibly nothing that strikes dread into Kevin and myself like opening the attic in front of Stephanie.  This is the place where we have stored away the objects of Stephanie's babyhood, and she always finds a treasure to insist on dragging out, usually her bumbo or highchair.  I tried not to open the attic, but she was very insistent and I was a little curious, so I relented.  She spied an orange hat in the Halloween box and says (now clearer to me since I realize what she is asking for), "Jack-o-lantern"-  which she never did wear on Halloween but insisted on wearing now.  And to Target.  And to the library... where we ended up with the Easter book.  We read the book at nap time, and Stephanie jumped up mid story to gather all of her finger puppets which she remembered had been in her Easter eggs.  It is surprising to me what she remembers and associates while being completely oblivious to the finer points of holidays.  I am sure it is all very typical, but funny to me none the less.  

Stephanie on the witness stand

Today, Stephanie turned 2 and 1/2 years old.  The half birthday would normally go barely noted in our home, but this one meant that she moved from the toddler room at school to the preschool room, and today was her first day.  Drop off in a new room with all new people went about as you might expect.  I called later to check on her, and because we have the greatest childcare center ever, they returned my phone call to leave me a reassuring message and then emailed me pictures of her playing.  But even this above and beyond moment wouldn't a blog post make.  But then there was this... After school, Stephanie and I picked Kevin up at work, and Kevin asked how her day was.  I had also asked her about her day, but apparently Kevin brings out the talker in Stephanie, and we got the preschool gossip.  Two of Stephanie's old friends from Bug Garden also moved up in the last few weeks.  Let's call them as L* and A*.  They are both very sweet, but they are also 2.5 years old, so I am not surprised by what followed.  Apparently, "A* hit L* in face with bucket" (which is, as correctly noted next by Stephanie, "not nice").  Stephanie has never ever just volunteered information about her day, so Kevin and I were intrigued!  So of course we starting quizzing her.  Is L* okay?  "NYum" (translates to yes in Steph-speak).  Did you comfort L*? "No, L* got cheese" (?).  Why did A* hit L*? "In face with bucket".  When did A* hit L*? "With bucket".  So we are clear on the weapon of choice, but perhaps need to work on the terms when and why before a court will hear her testimony.  Plus, what's with the cheese?    

I sleep with my horn and other medical procedures

Stephanie is as active as ever and not terribly committed to wearing shoes.  Thus she recently ended up with a splinter in her big toe.  I thought it was just dirt, but alas, it did not wash off.  I told her that she had a thorn in her foot, and that Mommy and Daddy were going to remove it.  She seemed okay with that at first.  Then, she must have thought better of it and told me, "I sleep with my horn".  That wasn't going to work, so Kevin got it out, which she handled very well, once we sprayed it with some pain killer spray and let her watch the procedure.  Our other recent adventure was the discovery of a tick on her neck.  A tick.  A disgusting parasite that I have pulled off of myself dozens upon dozens of times, as the woods in Virginia are filthy with the nasty little buggers.  I never thought twice about it... until I find one on Stephanie... at story time at the library.  I took it off with my fingers, saved it in a tissue in my purse, and almost ran out of the room to call my doctor until I realized that I could just text her Godmother/doctor (well, one of her Godmother/doctors, the one that is the kind of doctor that helps people- Sorry, Mary, we love you and are certainly proud to have two Godmothers/doctors, but we won't be calling with medical "emergencies", especially those related to the skin- you're welcome!).  After about a dozen texts with Alaina, I was sufficiently reassured that Stephanie was fine, though I did learn a little about proper tick removal, and apparently my technique is not quite right.  Until 4 days later, and I am suddenly faced with a rash at the site of the bite that is very clearly (to me) a bulls eye.  I run for my camera while simultaneously calling Alaina (who doesn't answer) and then calling Stephanie's actual doctor, only to leave a message for the nurse there and trying not to sound like a total lunatic.  By the time I get the camera, there is no bulls eye, just a little rash.  Another dozen texts to and from Alaina, a returned phone call from the nurse, and a handful of google  image searches again reassures me that Stephanie is fine.  There is an impossibly low chance that Stephanie would have contracted lyme disease, and I completely understand that.  I can acknowledge how irrational I was, even at the time I realized that, but that doesn't mean that I don't have a tick in a tissue in a baggie in my house right now.