Ahh…Wednesday again…already. Today it is almost wordless.

Self portrait – Miss Peanut and mummy. One of the last semi-warm fall days. The Peanut absolutely loved crunching the leaves.

“She’s started getting really angry when you take some things away from her,” The Husband said yesterday (speaking of The Peanut).

“Ummm…you mean she throws a temper tantrum?” I responded. “I noticed. I actually notice about five times a day, every day, Monday through Friday.”

Yes, I have entered the world of the freak out. Something I wasn’t supposed to have to deal with until the “terrible twos”. I mean that’s why they call them terrible? Right?

Everything up until then was supposed to be bliss. I had a full two years to prepare myself.

Oh no. Silly me.

Miss Peanut has decided there are things she wants to hold/touch/put in her mouth. Of course, many of the things she wants to hold/touch/put in her mouth are completely inappropriate for an eight month old (see Friday’s post). When these things are taken away from her (or go away from her, in the case of kitty), she is not shy.

She lets us know…loudly.

Red face? Check. Shrill scream? Check. Stiff body? Check. I have become familiar with all the characteristics of a major hissy fit.

Luckily, some of my other mum friends (with babies the same age as The Peanut) are experiencing the same thing. So, I breathe a sigh of relief in the recognition that this is “normal” (whatever normal is, of course).

Still, I find myself at a loss of what to do. Do I keep the item away from her? Give it back?

Do I comfort her? Do I leave her alone and let her “work it out”?

Do I try to reason with her? (Note: this may be a frustrating endeavor for both mummy and Peanut, given Peanut’s age. Or maybe not?)

Calling all mums, everywhere. I’m looking for suggestions/help/advice! How did you/do you deal with your baby’s temper tantrums?

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Richele at “Under The Golden Apple Tree” (http://underthegoldenappletree.blogspot.com) has presented me with the “Lemonade Stand Award”.

 This award is for blogs that show great attitude or gratitude. I am soo happy to get this award, mainly because I’m glad my blog posts don’t just sound like a whole bunch of complaining (just joking). Really, though, it is so nice to be recognized by all these fellow bloggers.

So, here is the info…and here is the list of blogs I would like to present this award to:


This award is given to 10 blogs you feel have a great attitude or show gratitude! Pass it on. Make sure you link back to the blog you received the award from! I would like to present this award to:

1. Mrs Southern Bride – http://www.mrssouthernbride.com/

2. ACU’s, Stiletto Shoes, and Pretty Pink Tutus – http://welovelucymichaela.blogspot.com/

3. The Winey Mommy - http://www.wineymommy.com/

4. Mom it Forward – http://momitfwd.blogspot.com/

5. Mommy is Green – http://mommyisgreen.blogspot.com/

6. Mommy Words – http://www.mommywords.com/

7. Ponytails and Slippers – http://ponytailsandslippers.blogspot.com/

8. Pursuing Harmony – http://pursuingharmony.blogspot.com/

9. The Brouse House – http://jkbrouse.blogspot.com/

10. City Girl Gone Country - http://joannanherblogs.blogspot.com/

Yesterday morning…again…Miss Peanut decided to start complaining at precisely 5:15 am. I ignored it for a while…to no avail.

“I think you just have to accept the fact that she doesn’t fall back asleep anymore,” The Husband said. “Once she’s up, she’s up.”

Touché, my friend. Touché.

Needless to say, weekends now involve a very early start. Usually we can be awake, showered, and out of the house by 9am (or earlier). Who would have believed, even 8 months ago, that half our day would be over by 10:30am? Certainly not me. Certainly not The Husband (a veritable late riser, when given the chance. Note – he is no longer given the chance).

Being out at such an ungodly hour on so many Saturdays/Sundays has given me the opportunity to engage in some human observation.

And the results are in.

I have found that people on the street (in the wee small hours of the morning – weekends, of course) typically fall into one of the following three categories:

1. Parents. Identified by a stroller, an energetic infant (or toddler), and a venti Americano (Starbucks - it’s the  nectar of the gods).
2. Slightly crazy people. Identified by the “slightly crazy” things they say to passerby. For example, the woman (jogging down our street, strangely enough) who yelled (to me) “did he put a ring on it” (perhaps in reference to The Husband? Still not sure). She would fit into this category.
3. Walk of shamers. Identified by a party top, high heels, and snap up adidas pants about 3 sizes too big. Generally smoking a cigarette/waiting for a taxi/walking with a slight wobble in the step (due, perhaps, to an abundance of drinks the night before? I wouldn’t really know, since I NEVER go out).

The Husband and I, of course, can be considered “parents”. After all – we have many of the major markers – a (sometimes screaming) infant; a giant, bulging, diaper bag; a jumbo coffee (one for each of us).

Occasionally, I also fall into category #2 (by my own admission). I’m sure The Husband would concur (from time to time).

So…my question is…to parents everywhere. What kind of sights do you see on your early morning jaunts?

Yesterday morning…again…Miss Peanut decided to start complaining at precisely 5:15 am. I ignored it for a while…to no avail.

“I think you just have to accept the fact that she doesn’t fall back asleep anymore,” The Husband said. “Once she’s up, she’s up.”

Touché, my friend, touché.

Needless to say, weekends now involve a very early start. Usually we can be awake, showered, and out of the house by 9am (or earlier). Who would have believed, even 8 months ago, that half our day would be over by 10:30am? Certainly not me. Certainly not The Husband (a veritable late riser, when given the chance. Note – he is no longer given the chance).

After being out at such an ungodly hour on many Saturdays/Sundays, I have found that other people on the street typically fall into one of the following three categories:

Parents. Identified a stroller, a screaming infant (or toddler), and a venti Americano.
Slightly crazy people. Identified by the “slightly crazy” things they say to passerby. For example, the woman (jogging, strangely) who yelled (to me) “did he put a ring on it” (perhaps in reference to The Husband? Still not sure). She would fit into this category.
Walk of shamers. Identified by a party top, high heels, and snap up adidas pants about 3 sizes too big. Generally smoking a cigarette/waiting for a taxi/walking with a slight wobble in the step (due, perhaps, to an abundance of drinks the night before? I wouldn’t really know, since I NEVER go out).

The Husband and I, of course, can be considered “parents”. After all – we have many of the major markers – a screaming infant; a giant, bulging, diaper bag; a jumbo coffee (one for each of us).

Occasionally, I also fall into category #2 (by my own admission). I’m sure The Husband would concur (from time to time).

So…my question is…to parents everywhere. What kind of sights do you see on your early morning jaunts?

Ah, Miss Peanut. I have to say, you were so much easier to take care of when you were stationary.

I know, I know. It’s inevitable. But, you must see, I am exhausted beyond belief. And as you become progressively more mobile, I become progressively more fatigued.

Yes you have achieved a certain measure of independence. However, it’s not the independence I imagined in idyllic magic unicorn land (that is, the land where you calmly reach for a favorite toy while mummy sips tea and taps away at the keyboard). That fairly tale was (very rudely) snatched away from me several weeks ago.

Oh no. It’s the independence to move towards EVERYTHING you shouldn’t be (moving towards, that is). I don’t understand how the television remote control, the cell phone charger – the cat’s tail for heaven’s sake – are so much more interesting than the hundred million (developmentally appropriate…somewhat pricey) toys you have scattered around.

I understand where you get your personality from. Apparently I was notorious for getting into everything as a baby. Just this weekend your Gran told me she had to tie a rope around the chairs at her kitchen table so I wouldn’t use them as climbing apparatus (she, by the way, finds this completely hilarious. Me, not so much). Back then, she remembers someone telling her history would repeat itself.

And it is repeating itself. Retribution is a bummer. So the message is; listen to your mother now, and you may have a less “inquisitive” baby some thirty years from now.

Or maybe not. I’m no clairvoyant.

I’m a mum. And, I guess, I’m in no position to rain on your fearless parade.

So I’m tucking this letter away (as much as you can tuck a “letter” “away” on a blog. Yes, I know. Fat Chance).

If you’re looking for me, I’ll be the woman chasing a small, squiggly, wiggle worm.

And I am so flattered!

My new friend “mommy of 4″ at http://kats-confessions.blogspot.com/ has presented me with this “Lovely Blog Award”.

I never win ANYTHING (except for a bottle of wine…once…at a work event). So to win something for which I was chosen is even more meaningful. Pop by and check out “mommy of 4″‘s blog. It’s a great read!

 The official rules of accepting this award are as follows:

I would like to give this award to:

http://smallsprouts-christine.blogspot.com
http://fashformom2boys.blogspot.com/
http://allinaniowamomsday.blogspot.com/
http://babblingabby.blogspot.com
http://organizeyourlifenow.blogspot.com
http://roadtoabudhabi.blogspot.com
http://threepumpkinslittle.squarespace.com/
http://www.amberpagewrites.com
http://mommyologist.blogspot.com
http://askwifey.blogspot.com
http://kidsclothingwholesalebargains.blogspot.com
http://belleoftheblog.blogspot.com
http://ladyladuke.blogspot.com
http://careysgang.blogspot.com
http://kristimaloneyblog.blogspot.com

Please check out these blogs when you have a chance!

On my never-ending quest for maternal companionship (click here, here, and here to review my escapades), I have made a new friend!

Her name is C.S., and we met several months ago, when her adorable son was just a few weeks old. In between August and just this week we lost contact, but were able to reconnect at a baby music class (on Tuesday). She is sweet, kind, honest – everything I look for in a friend. And this relationship has longevity.

How do I know?

She offered to throw The Peanut’s diaper out for me (after a post-class change).

As in touch Miss Peanut’s diaper, hold it, and put it in the garbage (she was closer to the can than I was).

“Are you sure that’s ok?” I asked. She simply shrugged with a smile. The ultimate in cool.

Of course, it was a poopie diaper.

This gesture has added significance when you consider The Peanut’s age – eight months. Those of you who have older babies know what the poop of an eight month old looks like. As one friend so eloquently described it (before the birth of The Peanut), “imagine your own poop, mashed into a diaper”. Perhaps TMI. I can describe it using two slightly less graphic words: “not pleasant”.

(On the subject of evolving baby poop, Godspeed to those of you with younger babies or babies who are not yet on solids. You will soon yearn for the diaper of a six-week old.)

Who would have known the bonding agent for my newest “mom friend” would involve a dirty diaper?

Being new to blogging and all, I wasn’t really sure what this “Wordless Wednesday” thing was. As always, I decided to do a quick Google search (I look everything – and I mean everything – up on Google. Actually, I’m wondering how I/the United States/the World existed in pre-Google times).

So, this explanation is for those of you who are as uninformed completely clueless as I am. Apparently all over the internet (on Wednesdays) bloggers post an image with no caption or description. The idea is that the image will speak for itself.

Of course, this description is from WikiAnswers, a site that is not a good research source (ask any teacher). Still, given the fact that that I wouldn’t really consider my blog to be academic in nature (unless you are studying for a PhD in baby vomit – which you may very well be), I am going to rely on it (with some artistic license).

I see many bloggers posting an image with a short description, so as to give their audience a feel for the visual. I think I am going to take this route.

Perhaps if I were a more amazing photographer (or had a more amazing camera), my image would speak for itself. Alas, for now all I have is the Canon Powershot SD1100 IS, and iPhoto image editor.

So here we go.

This is my image:

And this is my description:

My daughter will learn to enjoy fish, dammit. I repeat. My daughter will learn to enjoy fish. 

The Peanut taking her first tastes of salmon. Not completely well received. 

Today celebrates two years of wedded bliss for The Husband and I. We both love the fall and decided on an early November wedding for that reason. We envisioned a crisp, cool, clear day, complete with spindly trees and multi-colored leaves crunching beneath our feet. Ok, ok, I know. Enough verbal diarrhea. After all, most of you get enough exposure to actual diarrhea on a daily basis. If you are parents, of course. Or maybe even if you aren’t parents. I digress.

But really. At the VERY least, we expected a reasonable fall day. We were ok with clouds. We were ok with 40 degree temperatures. We were even ok with sprinkles.

Alas, it was not to be.

Two days before our wedding, Dr. Mel (our very knowledgeable local weatherman) predicted not only rain, but a hurricane hurtling towards Connecticut. Yes, indeed. Hurricane Noel was expected to hit Connecticut with gale force winds on exactly November 3rd. The day I had been dreaming about for months. Lovely.

I held out hope that Noel would take pity on me, and head on out to sea. After all, Dr. Mel said it was a possibility. “Please, please, please, pretty please. Please avoid us” I asked Noel in my most very polite voice. Unfortunately, Noel was not the compassionate type. He was determined to make an appearance, despite my passionate begging and tears.

And hit he did (or maybe she? I think I remember hearing somewhere that hurricanes are always female).

I woke up the morning of my wedding to 40 mile per hour winds and intense rain. I was devastated.

I got in the car – headed to the hair salon – with my mother, sister, cousin and grandmother. We turned on the radio, and like a divine sign, Celine Dion’s “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” (a personal fave) was just beginning. We turned up the volume. I knew it would be ok.

And in all seriousness, it really was ok. Actually, it was more than ok. It was fabulous. When people are worried about what the weather will be like on their wedding day, I always point out that I was married in a hurricane. And then I go on to explain what a phenomenal day we had.

At around 3:30pm the weather broke (we were married at 4:30pm). The sky took on an incredible shade of pink. Luckily we were able to snap some pictures with this beautiful, natural backdrop.

The next day, I got to enjoy my fifteen minutes of fame (a story in the New York Times “weddings” section – and later, a feature in The Connecticut Bride). I know…shameless self-promotion…but it is my blog.

And it really didn’t matter what the weather had been like. I finally had that second (and some may say, more important) ring on my finger.