Stop Kissing!

And then there was the time that Dallas walked up to me when he got home and laid one on me...We were in the middle of the kitchen kissing.  I have no idea why Darby was so bold as to think that she could break us up, but friends, we have been through five moves, pilot training, deployments, military service, a brain tumor and three kids.  That girl's got NOTHIN'.

So there we were...kissing in the kitchen.  Darby walks over and starts to pry herself in between us.  When she realized her efforts were in vain, she proceeded:

"Stop kissing," she said!  I looked at her and said, "No! Go away!"
 Sometimes you just have to put your kids in their place.

My older daughter was standing nearby and had to add her two cents:
Naomi: "Ew, that's disgusting!"
Me: "What's disgusting about daddy and I kissing?"
Naomi: "You're trading spit AND saliva when you kiss!"

Whoa!  Not spit AND saliva!  I mean, spit is one thing, but SALIVA?  That's a whole 'nother THING!  If I had known what was ACTUALLY involved in kissing, I would have quit LONG ago!

Election 2012

At the risk of bringing out my inner elephant, I will tell you a tale of Election 2012.  As most stay-at-home-moms do, I voted with my Little Pixie while big brother and sister were at school.  This is not the first time "The Pixie" has voted.  I'm a pretty faithful citizen.  However, I could not get it through the red on her head that were going VOTING, NOT BOATING.  Check out the following conversation:

Conversation #11,998 with Darby this morning:
"Me: Darby! We're going to go vote this morning!
Darby: We're going on a BOAT?!
Me: No, No. We're VOTING.
Darby: Boat?
Me: No.
Darby: Boat?
Me: No!"

Later that morning, at the voting place...
"Darby: Can I jump off the boat?
Me: No.
Darby: Is this boating?
Me: No!  It's VOTING!"
...a confused Darby searched the room for a boat, but only got a sticker that said she voted. And, she tried to steal all the American flags. Victory? We'll see tomorrow. !)

While she was roaming the room looking for the boat, I somehow managed to see SEVERAL people from my neighborhood...ALL of them sans children.  

I.
DON'T.
GET.
IT.
Do they leave their children at home unattended?
Do they leave them in their cars unattended?
Is there some TRICK that they teach you somewhere?
Kinda like the Chick-Fil-A trick I just learned of today?
The one where you take your toy and trade it in for a kid's dessert ice cream?
WHERE do people learn how to DO THIS STUFF?! 
...on PINTEREST?!!!

Anyhow, I voted while Darby was expecting to "boat."  
We both got "I Voted" stickers.
I was tempted to cross off "VOTED" on hers and write in "BOATED," but I didn't.

Barbie.

Darby's is TOTALLY into Barbie right now.  Well, she's totally into undressing Barbie and then leaving her in all her nakedness strewn about the house.  What is it with little girls?  Seriously!  They just undress Barbie and walk away!

She also likes Barbie movies.  We are the proud owners of "Barbie and the Diamond Castle", "Barbie and the Three Musketeers", "Barbie-Mermaidia", "Barbie and the Nutcracker", "Barbie in A Christmas Carol", "Barbie-Swan Lake", and our most recent add, "Barbie-Sing Along."

I.
Hate.
Barbie.

Anyhow, Darby knows every word to every Barbie song out there.  When Kristin and I were in Haiti on our missions trip, I jokingly said to Kristin, "You know the best part about being here?"  "No," she replied.  "BARBIE is NOT HERE!"  We both had a good laugh, but I'll be darned if I didn't check "That book" later on that night to watch a video Dallas posted of Darby playing guitar and singing, 'Believe in all that can be.  A miracle starts whenever you sing...'." Barbie had, indeed, graced the soils of Haiti. 

The obsession with Barbie has, in my own opinion, gone too far.  Darby was outside playing in the driveway one day.  She came inside, and the following conversation ensued:

Darby just said, "I need to go to the seven stones!"
My reply: "How do you get there?"
Darby: "It's in Barbie and the Diamond Castle. Here! I'll show you!"
Curious, I followed her outside, where we went to our landscaping stones to play for a bit.  But first, just to be on the safe side, I updated my status and told my friends that I would be "heading to the Seven Stones," and if I wasn't back in ten, to "just wait longer."  !)

The most phenomenal influence Barbie has made on our young Pixie of late happens when we are out in public.  Namely, anywhere anyone is shopping for anything.  She will walk up to any stranger and say, "Excuse me!  That belongs in MY KINGDOM!"  That has become such a common quote to be heard gracing her lips during a shopping trip that it doesn't even phase me anymore.  However, one day, she said it to an older man who had quite an exchange with the Redhead:

Man: "Oh.  I can't buy this?"
Darby: "No!"
Man: "Well, what CAN I buy?"
Darby: "That thing, and  you can ride a brown pony, and I will ride a pink horse!"

Another quick saying that She has picked up has become a "family quote."  She says it to us, we say it back to her.  It has been highly effective in behavior modification, and it goes something like this: "You are being a ROYAL PARTY POOPER!"  That's it.  One bold statement, and behavior changes to good almost instantaneously.  Go ahead and try it at home.  It might work for you, too!

Barbie...Darby...
Darby...Barbie...
There might be something to it.
Who knows?

The girl with the strawberry curl...

Oftentimes, when Darby is having "one of THOSE days," I find myself reciting a nursery rhyme to myself.  It's fitting, but this day, Darby was "on a roll," as they say.  In fact, she had a perfect little strawberry ringlet curl that somehow made it out of that ponytail I made earlier that day, and it was hanging down in the middle of her forehead.

If you read nursery rhymes, you already know where I'm going with this one, and you will appreciate this all the more.  You see, it's NOT just me!  There once was ANOTHER mother of a DIFFERENT Little Redhead Pixie, who had the SAME "problem."  So, as a tribute to all mothers with little redheads who have little curls that cascade down their foreheads when they are having a mischievious day...

There was a little girl with a strawberry curl

Right in the middle of her forehead.

When she was good, she was very, very good

But when she was bad, she was horrid.

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.