The Things She Says

Our (almost) 3 year-old daughter, Little b, says some of the funniest (to us, anyway) things. She is constantly keeping us laughing. So, without further ado, here are a few of my recent favorites.

As I was buckling her into her carseat, she was looking at my face very intently. Then:
Little b: Mama, your eyebrows are not good.

One evening after dinner, I wasn't feeling my best:
Me: I feel sort of funny right now.
Little b: Do you feel funny because your hair looks funny?

As I was getting ready in the morning but before I was dressed, she found my bra and came up to me with it in her hands:
Little b: Mama, do you have a bra to cover your feelings?

She loves to pretend to be a dog or a horse and lick people. One day she started licking Joe's arm:
Joe: Yuck. You don't need to lick my hairy arm. 
Little b: Yes I do. Two year olds lick arms, and three year olds lick faces!

One morning at six a.m., she woke me up very excited to say:
Little b: Mama, we should name the baby ..... Montey (monkey) Clementine Ice Cream.

She still hasn't let that one go and gets very insistent that it's the name.

One morning she got dressed and came into my room to show me that she was ready:
Little b: Mama, I'm wearing my pink cowboy boots be-tuz (because) I play baseball and ..... I'm awesome.

While discussing the day's plans with Joe:
Little b: Daddy, I will pay you a dollar if you go to Target.

Riddle me this...

Tomorrow is Cecilia's Baptism day. I usually celebrate by getting a small token gift and making a special dessert. I planned to make her dessert tomorrow (after a run to the Target in the morning) but an afternoon thunderstorm closed the pool and killed our plans for whittling away the afternoon.

What to do? What to do? Let's bake her dessert. She originally wanted cake but, eh, boring. Let's make cookies! Thankfully, she's really easy to please, especially when it comes to sugary desserts. We decided to make these, because I thought I had all the ingredients.

Ha. Ha ha.

So, I had fewer pretzels than I thought -- not even quite 1/2 a cup. No biggie. I threw in a handful of oatmeal instead. No mini chocolate chips, but the regular size is fine. Oh, and no vanilla, but a quick internet search tells me you can use rum or brandy. Well, how about whipped flavored vodka? Alrighty-then. I may have said a few prayers that they turn out, and I'm happy to say they did.

Trying to be artsy

But here's the strange thing: I love love LOVE peanut butter. I mean, eat it out of the jar love. But the smell of these peanut butter cookies is driving me crazy. I kind of want them out of my house. Any takers?

D is for Dad

To My Dad:

Thank you.  Thank you for teaching your children well.  Thank you for showing us that we could dream of rainbows and even find a way over them to see the other side.  Thanks for loving your daughters like no other father.

Thank you for your quiet, wise ways, which though I don't always understand, I always respect.  Thank you too for always knowing a joke that will make me smile.  Thanks for being proud of me, and even more, telling me.

Thanks for being the kind of man that inspired three special men to ask you first for your daughters' hands in marriage.  Thank you for walking us all down the aisle (and wearing a King Kong tie for one). 

Thanks for spoiling your grandkids and getting right down on the floor with them.  They know your face, your beard, your glasses, and your hands so well. 

Thank you for being my dad and the first man I ever loved.

Little Apple, Big Weekend

So I had a fantastic weekend. My husband, MattGyver (aka MG), and I, decided to take our first out-of-town overnight excursion with our 11 week-old daughter, affectionately known as "The Bean". (Side note: surprisingly, this moniker did not come about as a cute little nickname for her in utero self; instead, it was adopted by MG after she was born, apparently due to the shape of her head shortly after birth....much to the surprise, and feigned chagrin of her mother, the nickname has stuck. Thankfully, the head has returned to a normal shape, albeit with the disproportionate head-to-body ratio one expects in an infant.) OK, side note aside, the three of us embarked on a journey to NYC! So of course, I was super concerned with my wardrobe choices. The night before we left, my poor husband, who was diligently trying to get a bit of work done at home(i.e. browsing Reddit) was interrupted by me waltzing down the stairs every 5 minutes  in a different outfit, asking "Do I like look like a hip upper East Side New York mom who is totally not a tourist in this outfit?" Of course, I would never have such an outfit in my possession, so I settled for the "I got up and took a shower and vaguely tried to look put together" look.

So we took 1-1/2 hour train ride down to the city. After lugging our big ol' stroller and two rolling bags the mile to our hotel (yes, we had two bags for a one-night stay, because I simply had too many wardrobe options that I insisted I simply could not share a bag..surprise, I only wore a quarter of the items packed, and the entire time lamented that I had not brought a different outfit for the occasion. Ladies, I know you are with me on this one.)...we checked in and then headed to lunch at a pretty cool restaurant that had about a hundred different beers on tap. My beer snob husband MG was in heaven. I don't think he even noticed what he ate.

Then we headed out to soak up some culture at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, otherwise known by hip Upper East Side New Yorkers as The Met. Thanks, BL, for the recommendation! It was beautiful! And huge! We spent a good three hours in there (a feat with a 2-1/2 month old  in tow) and saw, I would say about 1% of the exhibits. It is like a mini-city within the city. Really neat though. 

After a brief jaunt through Central Park, and a stressful Subway ride back to the hotel (let's just say, scheduled route changes + panhandlers + the G family= frazzled brains), we got some late night grub at a pretty cool Irish pub. The fish and chips for me, the bangers and mash for MG, goat's milk for The Bean.  An Irish band was setting up to play while we were there, but we couldn't stay as we had to get The Bean to sleep. 

After Mass in the morning , we had some amazing Eggs Benedict for brunch; MG had the original and I had to have the smoked salmon version!! Mmmmm so good, my mouth is watering all over again. There may have been a Bloody Mary or two involved as well. 

And before I knew it, it was time to head home.  My darling Bean did amazingly well; she, just like her mother, was so content the entire trip just soaking up the sounds and sights of the city, and, unlike her mother, hardly cried at all. (Is she kidding?)  And it was such a great 4 year anniversary trip for MG and I. I kind of feel like all we did was eat, and ahem, maybe drink a bit, but that is my kind of trip. :)

I hope you all had a great weekend!

*Is this thing on?*

So, I'm jumping in, oh about 6 months (probably more like 9, but who's counting) after we decided to start this blog, and now I guess I've had enough cocktails today to have no inhibitions and I can write at random (I'm also much funnier after a drink or two ... so says I.)

The Three Sisters are separated by many miles and many sad frowns. As we've gotten older, we have grown very fond of one another and on several occasions purposely gone away for a weekend to spend time together. Our amazing husbands are fully behind our efforts to travel to be near each other, but sometimes our wallets and other obligations are not. So, we thought a blog would be a good opportunity to stay in touch, talk about the things we like to talk about and share with each other (new recipes, dance moves, cocktails and fashion) while also allowing others in our fun. Well, maybe our husbands will read this, anyway.

I'm excited for this endeavor and to share it with my sisters -- two of the funniest, kindest and bestest sisters one could ask for.

Let the blogging commence!