I just bought mother's day gifts for seven of my "mothers." There were probably some that I missed, even. But I consider myself ridiculously lucky. I needed all those moms. I was a tough kid. ;)


( Random Pictures of Billie Because I Don't Have Much to Say Today. )

Doug's gone for the weekend- He's in San Francisco surprising his good friend, Ray, for his birthday.
Whenever Doug leaves I'm always hit with this overwhelming nervousness about being alone with Billie. It's not that I can't handle my daughter, but Doug is the staple of this family. He keeps things balanced. He's ridiculously supportive and resourceful and being without him for even a short amount of time feels like driving with no hands. It's possible. Just difficult. And probably not recommended for those who aren't well trained.

Anyways, Day One was pretty good- I got home from work, picked Billie up, we headed home, ate PB&J "sammiches," and were in bed by 8pm. Well... I was in bed by 8pm. Billie was continuously up and running around naked until 10:00pm. But I'm still counting it.

Now, Day Two? Day two has been AWESOME. Granted, it started with me saying "Get out of the Trashcan!" and "No, you canNOT bring your pop tart into the shower" back to back but, other than that, it's been good. We got produce at the grocery store and she didn't once scream or throw anything off the shelves at random strangers (like usual) and she was even rewarded with a hand dipped chocolate donut (which she immediately spread all over her face, hands, neck, and stomach). Then the park. Then a Japanese restaurant where she styled on all the other little kids in the restaurant by singing the chorus to Usher's "Climax"... loudly. And surprisingly in tune. And that was all before nap time. Score one for Momma!!

Now... what do I do with her...?

This morning Doug and I were talking about getting Billie started in Preschool. Now, she's two. So she doesn't really need to worry about preschool just yet. But, we're parents- and we worry. So the texting topic today was, you guessed it: Preschool. Anywho, in the great state of Louisiana the cut-off date for kids enrolling into schools is September 30th. Meaning: they have to be age three by or before Spetember 30th in order to enroll for that year. Now, Billie was born in November. Meaning, she's less than two months shy of the cut off and therefore cannot enroll in Preschool this year and has to wait until next year.

Disclaimer: I have incredible feelings of insecurity about this topic. I was "held back" in preschool for this very same reason so I was always the tallest, gawkiest, and slowest kid in the class. Couple that with being crazy pale and opiniated and it doesn't make for fond memories of my adolecense. Doug, however; was snuck in BEFORE the silly age restrictions hit so he's always been the youngest in his class and thus has never had to deal with the awkwardness it affords those who must deal with it. Anways, THIS, dear friends, is where Tall-Gate of 2012 starts. See our text transcript below.

( Parental Advisory: Not suitable for people lacking a sense of humor. Strong language ahead. Duh. )

Author's note: OF COURSE we are joking. We are not normal- this is how we say, "I love you forever." We just add expletives and insults so it doesn't come off too cheesy, that's all. ;)

So Billie is basically the coolest kid ever. But she's still a "kid" kid, you know? None of this creepy "refined 55- year- old- white- man- trapped- in- a- two- year- old's- body" crap. She's a monster. And proud.

( Wherein there lies more gushing. )

Hey All!

It's been a touch crazy over here. I've obtained a job as a salesperson for a security/ survellience company. We got a new car. It broke. We're in the process of gettting it fixed. Billie said her first full sentence. I know you'll be surprised to find out that it was: "May I eat more please?"
Cute lil heiffer. At least she's polite.
Doug's getting a tutoring gig as we're low on funds. Broken cars don't help that fact.
I'll keep ya posted on more Billie-isms.
For now it's a bit "meh" over here.

Here's hopin' things look up. ;)

We've made it through the storm (quite literally) and there's been no harm to our house or surrounding areas. Huzzah! We had a couple Tornado warnings but, luckily, no one got hit.

The family reunion was eventful. We only stayed for three hours because Billie was so eaten by the mosquitos she developed a fever and wouldn't let anyone touch her. I'm afraid that got misinterpreted by Doug's family- I think they thought she was spoiled and elitist because she would look at other people and scream in their faces. Not the best first impression, sure, but she was running a 102.6 degree fever and looked like she had a small pox break out on her face. I'm sure you wouldn't be too inclinded to be touched by random people, either. ::Sigh:: Ah well. Better luck next time 'round.

This conversation just happened:
Me: "What's the magic word?"
Billie: "Eat."
Me: "Nope. Not the magic word. Try again."
Billie: "Now?"
Me: "Still no- Come on, baby. If you want something you have to say 'pa-pa-pa----?"
Bille: "Pa- MORE?!!!!"


Aye. Manners are hard.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe my daughter is drawing. On our windows. With crayons, stickers, and glitter paint.

You can't say she's not creative.

So Billie is getting eaten alive by the mosquitos here- so much so that I initially thought she had the Chicken Pox. And, of course, it doesn't help that my ingenius ass left the door open for 4 hours while I went to run errands- thus making our house a host to all sorts of fun insects. I swear to you, after that incident- I checked Billie's room for bugs, spread insect repellant everywhere I could think of (including smothering her in "Off!" right before bed), and vacummed her room thoroughly. Did that help? NO. She woke up the next morning looking like she had the measles. Aye.

To top it off- we're going to Mississippi tomorrow for Doug's family reunion. And I get to show off my cute little 22 month old who looks like she's got a baaaaaaad case of acne. I'm sure that's going to speak very highly to his extended family on my competancy as a mother, ha.
On the bright side? Should you ever come to visit we are stocked TO THE BRIM with calemine lotion, aloe vera, AND several different kinds of insect reppellants and itch relievers. You can't say we're under prepared...

On another unrelated yet sort of related note: All sorts of fun storm warnings are being issued over in this neck of the woods. Our dear tropical storm, Katia, has been upgraded to a Hurricane and they (the great weather gods, of course) are anticipating ANOTHER hurricane, Hurricane Lee, to be following shortly behind. Our parish (yea- San Francisco had "districts" and Louisiana has "parishes." Quaint, huh?) has issued a state of emergency. Of course- the brunt of these storms aren't supposed to hit until Sunday/ Monday-ish so I will keep you posted. For now, it's a lot of gray skies and rain.
Now, I ADORE the rain. And, I know it's weird, but I'm also VERY excited to experience my first Hurricane(s). Doug says my excitement might be a tad premature- but, if it's "premature" then that means I probably shouldn't have it at all. And I like being excited- so I'm going to continue being so, premature or no.

Anywho- I'll keep ya'll posted on the reunion festivities and hurricane statuses.

All my love & bug spray to you. ;)

The upside to having a kid with asthma is that, while you're forcing the inhaler to their face urging them to inhale, you can introduce counting. To make the whole "sticking an angry looking plastic thing to your face" experience a little less intense, Doug and I count to ten and make all sorts of silly noises to make the process a little less scary. Plus- once we reach "ten" we stop- it signifys the end and gets her comfortable with counting.

When we started this routine she would try to count with us- but she could only get up to "two." So it would go something like this:
Doug and I: "One"
Billie: "One"

Doug and I: "Two"
Billie: "Two"

"Three"
"Two"

"Four"
"Two"

"Five"
"Two"

"Six"
"Two"

"Seven"
"Two"

"Eight"
"Two"

"Nine"
"Two"

"Ten!"
"TWOOOOOOO!"

Just last night, though, she got a little more inventive with her counting:


Doug and I: "One"
Billie: "One"

Doug and I: "Two"
Billie: "Two"

"Three"
"TREE"

"Four"
"No."

"Five"
"More"

"Six"
"I'm"

"Seven"
"All"

"Eight"
"Done"

"Nine"
"FINE"

"Ten!"
"Byeeeeee!"
and then she runs away...

Haha- I love it...

Thing # 1:
Problem: For the past two weeks or so Billie has been calling me "SeeSee!"
Weird, right? Not "Mommy" or "Momma."
"SeeSee." And she says it with all the confidence in the world- she'll even point to pictures of our family and say: "Dadda, Beee-yee (That's how she says her name) and SEESEE!." I kept trying to correct her, "yes, baby, that's MOMMA," but to no avail, she would just shake her head and say simply: "See. See."

What we figured out: One day, Doug was looking for something so he shouted across the house, "Sweetie, do we have the...?" and I hear Billie go, "Yea! SEESEE! SEESEE!" Doug stopped for a moment and said, "Wait- is she calling you Sweetie?"
Billie nodded, "SEESEE!."
Apparently Doug calls me "Sweetie" a lot. We never noticed it before but, as Billie loves her daddy and wants to do everything daddy does, she quickly picked up on it. Daddy calls Mommy, "Sweetie" so I do, too. Gotta love that logic.

After relaying my discovery to my sister, Jemison, she laughed and said, "Thank God he doesn't call you anything else! Can you imagine what would've happened if he'd decided to call you shitface?" Ha. Thanks for that mental image, Jemison.



Thing #2:
Problem: Billie randomly licks me. Weird, right? She'll just walk up to me and lick my leg intensely. WHAT IS THAT? Doug thought it was hysterical, of course, but I couldn't, for the life of me, understand why she would do it.

What we figured out: This morning, after trying to eat an entire tube of toothpaste for breakfast, Billie runs up to me and, desperately starts licking my leg. Like, crying and licking with vigor. If I wasn't concerned this would have been enough to laugh at in and of itself but then it hit me: She's trying to get the taste out of her mouth.
I am my daughter's walking napkin.
She experiments with weird foods (toothpaste, bizarre plants from the backyard, dried foods stuck on public benches, etc) and, if the result is less than desirable she comes to my leg to fix her problem.
It's rather genius, really, very puppy-dog-ish of her.
In the future, though, I'll be teaching her how to find the paper towels and wash her mouth out.

Somebody put herself in a trashcan (thankfully, it was a clean one we haven't put to use yet) and intentionally knocked herself over repeatedly while giggling because she liked the way it felt to fall.

We poured our fruit punch all over the carpet because, apparently, the beige carpet was "NO PRETTY!!" We are much more satisfied with the reddish/pink stain that has taken over.

The toilet in the bathroom is now hosting all of our favorite stuffed animals in some weird jacuzzi style bath party.

We've painted our face with toothpaste.

And we redecorated the living room with Rice Krispy cereal and baby lotion.




It's been a banner day here at the Jacoby/Mungin house.