It involves a lot of belly laughs and doe eyes.
Thusly, a good portion of my morning has been spent rocking any combination of four baby dolls (rotated at will by The Empress herself) with a pointed finger and the simple direction to "La la la." That's my cue to sing the babies to sleep- accompanied by Nora's wiggling hip dance. When she stops, so do I.
She never stops.
Another of Bossy Belinda's recent habits is to protest any action or removal from a situation or transit she deems unnecessary- by twiddling her lips in a grumbly manner. (Side note- what is that called? Recent Google searches term it 'flubberdubbing,' 'wabba wabba-ing,' and any other multitude of highly improbable, slightly pornographic monikers. Side side note- Do not attempt this search on your own. Sometimes I do not feel like the interwebs are as innocent as I pretend them to be.)
Nora has also recently acquired a [hopefully fleeting] fear of nose-blowing. Not her own. She's always hated that. No, what she protests is the action of someone else clearing their nose. I have no idea why this noise bugs her so much. We live a block and a half away from a fire station. Random parades are known to break out on our cross street. She is frequently awoken by striped tabbies demanding attention from her negligent parents. But regardless, as soon as you blow your nose, there she is- finger pointing like the evil monkey from The Family Guy. If you ignore her polite request, she flubberdubs her lips like the most scorned woman in the world.
People can no longer suggest that I have not negatively impacted this poor, sweet child.
Speaking of loved ones whom I have beaten down with my crazy, P.J. was awfully busy this weekend. It was the traditional Christmas Ended Two And A Half Weeks Ago Tree-Taking-Down Festival. (Our poor balsam was so beyond dead that its needles were shedding needles. While we were cleaning the living room, I half-convinced Peej to start a new business of making pine sachets...mixed with cat hair and dust. Also some crayon shavings. Who wants in?!)
After the house was cleared of all our lovely decorations (dead and/or alive), the natural progression of the afternoon was to move my office from right off of the living room to the third floor nook. Obviously. P.J. was less than convinced that this had be done on free weekend...but I bribed him with a solo trip to Home Depot. He could get all of the thunky, bangy, pipey Man Projects that his heart desired. (Shameless!) But, boy- did that desk move up those stairs!
Here is what the nook between the bedrooms looked like in July of '09:
Pretty spectacular, right? I personally enjoy the fact that no doors were on any frames during this time period. And forget about what's going on in the bathroom to the left. (It was three months before I would be alone on this floor.) Up until this past Saturday, the nook had hosted a miniature library of Nora's books...and Nora's friends' books...and a gigantic giraffe, courtesy of my mother in law. You've seen this giraffe before.
It is also not usually this pink nor is it quite so vintage. But I've found that the Hipstamatic hides dustballs and cat hair quite nicely.
Am I giving away all of my housewifely secrets?
You're the welcomest.
And now, random begging. If you stop by the Bloggies and feel like casting a vote for Lollygag Blog for any ol' category which you see fit (and Mama Moderne- mamamoderne.com- for Best Parenting and Design), well, that would just be great. Sure, you need to nominate a few others for each category, but that's not too hard, is it? Heck, you're on the internet right now! Clearly, you enjoy some websitery. The nomination process ends this week. After that, it's just a hop, skip and a jump to piles of cash and corndogs for all.
Which, just a reminder, you love.
But not half as much as I love you.