The Pixie turns THREE!

My status update on the Little Pixie's birthday is always this:
"November 3, 2009...The day the world met Darby."

I planned a big "Harvest Party" for the Pixie.  I admittedly go a little overboard on birthday parties.  I like to throw a good party.  Judge if you wish.  Anyhow, I made giant checkerboards out of burlap and used those miniature gourds and pumpkins as the checkers.  I made some rag top quilts and giant pillows and fleece blankets.  It was cute.  It was cold.  We had a couple fire pits, and it was still cold.  I made these chocolate pumpkin cupcakes for Darby.  She saw all the preparations that went into this party, but I don't think she realized it was all for her.  Well, I KNOW she didn't realize it was all for her until we sang Happy Birthday.

Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday dear DARBY!!
(At this point, Darby was physically taken aback.  She took two or three steps backward and had a look of astonishment turned pure joy on her face!  A look that I caught on camera!  A look that is now ingrained in my memory forever!  All the work was worth it for that one look!  That smile can get me through the messiest of messies in the kitchen-you know, the "woops-i-totally-didn't-mean-to-dump-the-ENTIRE-box-of-cheerios-out" mess?  Yep!  The joy on her face even takes away THAT)
Happy Birthday to YOU!!!

It was a great birthday!
...a great party! 
...for a great little three-year-old!

Someone get this girl a MIC!

Darby loves to sing.  The girl knows almost every lyric to every song on the radio.  Often times, she will be in the back and holler up to me when a good song comes on, "Mommy!  I LOVE this song!  This is my FAVORITE song!  SING IT!"  Sometimes I know the words.  Sometimes I don't.  Guess how it ends if I don't...

Anyhow, she loves to sing.  You get the picture.

I was at bible study one morning.  This particular morning, when bible study ended, our babysitter walked Darby in to the room.  Darby scanned the room and quickly honed in on the microphone and stand that was set up on the little stage in the corner.  It was set up to "Darby height."  Perfect!  She ran up to the mic and started singing.  She quickly gained a captive audience of about 30 women.  As the room grew quiet, Darby blasted out, "MOMMY!  CAN WE GO TO STARBUCKS AND GET A CAPPUCINO?!"  Immediate laughter burst through the room.  Thirty sets of eyes spun my way.  How does a mother of an almost three-year-old answer THAT one?

"Umm...yes, but we'll have to get DECAF this time."

Preparing for Haiti...

So, through a strange course of events, my friend, Kristin, and I ended up signing up to go on a missions trip to Haiti.  The missions organizations that we went with required that we be on anti-malaria meds for the duration of our trip, so a quick trip to my doctor was in order.  I don't know if it's just me, or if every mother absolutely dreads going to the doctor, simply because your have to drag your kids with you.  I mean, I think I've had pink eye for three weeks and can't motivate myself to go to the doctor because I have to take Darby with me.

Typically, a doctor visit for me will include Darby making an outright raucous in the waiting room, turning the little kiddie waiting section into an area for which the Governor would declare a state of emergency if he were to see it.  Aside from the disaster Darby creates, there is always that Mennonite lady with her little-house-on-the-prairie dress and bonnet and black tennis shoes with her identically dressed, completely quiet, well-behaved girl sitting quietly with her legs and hands crossed.  How nice it must be to sit in complete silence, knitting, while you wait for your turn to see the doctor.  The only reprieve from the waiting room is knowing that nurse's assistant will be there to call your name out, causing your little redhead to sprint for the door so you can walk the gauntlet to the scale, leaving the waiting room in disarray, and that sweet little Mennonite lady to finish her sock.

I think I annoy my doctor.  We are in the middle of an adoption from Haiti, so I'm always going in there with requests to have my urine and blood tested, physical after physical.  "You need to be tested for Syphilis for this adoption?"  Dude.  Don't ask.  We're talkin' HAITI here.  They don't ROLL how WE ROLL!  Answer: "Yes. (WHATEVER!  This is WAY more painful for me than it is for you, man)"  Remember: I'm doing ALL this stuff with Darby in tow! 

Come to think of it...I've always wondered why I leave my doctor's appointments sweating.  It's coming into focus now.  I THINK it MIGHT be because I'm wrestling with Darby from the moment I walk in, until I leave.

Anyhow, I finally made it in to my doctor's office this particular day.  Doc walks in and proceeds to have the following conversation with THE REDHEAD:

Darby: "I like your shoes."

Doctor: "I like your shoes, but my shoes are bigger."
Darby: "Does anyone in this room wear tennis shoes?"
Doctor: "Not right now, but sometimes they do."
Darby: "What's your name?"
Doctor: "Doctor Patti."
Darby: "Doctor Patti cake, Patti cake, baker's man...bake me a cake as fast as you can."
Me (to myself): "So, I'm going to Haiti, and I need a bunch of stuff." !)

The girl can turn any given situation into rhyme or song.  Try her.