Why Sniffing Your Kid's Head Matters

I sniffed my kid's head too many times in the last few days, and I've caught the 'nostalgia'. It's akin to the black plague if you're a drama queen like me because once you catch this virus you can't really get anything done. I keep staring at Vale like she's going to change and I'm going to miss it. She has Farrah Fawcett hair today, and she didn't last week. What else is going to happen? Glitter poo or an eleventh toe? Neither one is good if you've ever had to clean glitter off of stuff. Another toe would make shopping a bummer.

Something about Easter, and a brief Jesus Conversation with my dad left me thinking about how truly bad and sh**ty (yes, bad and sh**ty) we all are for thinking anything we do, outside of loving each other, really matters. If you've ever watched any rom-com EVER then you know that the futility of life exists so we can appreciate moments. Nicholas Sparks wouldn't lie to us, people. And the Outerbanks is beautiful. 

I'm trying to be a better human and live for the 'right now' moments instead of living for the future. Future- living is what convinced me to spend a house-on-the-Gulf bucket of money on a private school education and then spat me out into a workforce with a mafioso-type "pay me now, please" arrangement that I couldn't fulfill. Guess how much of that education I'm using hammering nails and cleaning very old dirt off of stuff? Tangent over, and back to my point: I don't want to spend all of my time planning for my funky Bunny's future and miss out on her nowness. So today's post isn't about work; today's post is about my kid, and what a wack-job she is. 

My kid is currently out cold in her crib wearing her sandals. She's been there since 6:30 pm (it's now nearly 8:00 pm) and won't wake up tomorrow until between 7:14 and 7:37 am. She takes two hour long naps in the middle of the day and that is the reason I can get work done. It's like she knows I need to, which I find both creepy and awesome. 

We play a game where I fill my cheeks up with air and she punches them with her fists over and over while I make fart noises until all of the air is gone. It's pretty rad, and I'm happy she catches on when I try to start these traditions. She loves watching Frozen (I need to drink coffee) and when Elsa 'let's it go' Vale mimics her and raises her arms up to help her melt the snow. She's a great helper. 

She eats more food than I do, by a lot. We're talking burritos, fish of any variety, anything Italian, quinoa, kale, radishes, avocados... Do I need to list anymore weird, kid unfriendly foods or do you get the picture? Little homie loves a variety, and I love that we can sit and share the same meal without me having to turn her broccoli into a flying saucer on an acid trip. 

She loves making scary faces like she's demon possessed (swelling with pride, because I taught her), roaring like a lion, and making choking noises while she's eating. It's super entertaining when we're out in public. 

Her best friend is her cousin, Casen. One day we're going to have to tell them that they can't roll around on the floor kissing and hugging each other but not before we have enough video/audio proof to torture them with in high school. Her second best friend is our dog, Dougie. It takes a special kind of weirdo to love that dog, and it makes me love her even more to know that she can be sweet and affectionate to an animal that howls at the moon tries to kill anyone who comes near me. 

One time on an airplane she was fussing for snack (after a six hour delay she was the best behaved soul on board), so I broke the cardinal rule of clean-eating and gave her poisonous Cheerios. She didn't make a noise, except "mmmmmmmm" for 2.5 hours. So now every day, twice a day, she eats Ancient Grain O's: because I care about what goes in her body, but also I'm not an idiot. And coffee. 

Vale has the most contagious laugh you'll ever hear. She runs and hides in corners, and then starts hysterically laughing the second I say, "what are you doing?' She's so easy to impress. She loves creepy stuff. The more disturbing I can be, the harder she laughs. Breathless, hospitalization type of laughs are always my goal. We play a lot of "zombie" where I rise from the dead and eat her alive, or "soccer" which my neighbor Alex says is the most pathetic thing he's ever seen. Alex is 86, and he's not joking around. I love him, and I'm not joking either. 

She's really into stuffed animals right now. She hugs them really tightly, and then body slams them to the ground Sleeping with the Enemy style. Those plushies are in danger, and I had the thought the other day that if Toy Story is real, she's going to be in for a pretty horrific surprise. She takes her little stuffed animals and makes them walk. While they walk she says, "Doe Doe Doe" with every step they take and makes a fish face. 

We play a lot of tea party. I bought her this adorable tea set from Land of Nod and she's become really great at pouring the tea, and sharing in the "nom nom nom" with mommy. Now that she's become adept at tea'ing she really wants to test her luck with my coffee. She waits patiently (grabs at it the whole time) until I'm done and then gets to hold the cup. I usually find it after she goes to bed in a shoe, or shoved inside the Velcro of one of her stuffed animal's butts. See what I mean?

She loves taking long walks with her dog-bud, Doug. She sits in the stroller, with her purse or mustard (depends on her mood), and holds onto his leash while I try not to fall down in traffic or tip her over. We've got a rhythm, and we take two hour-long walks a day. Mommy gets to be one with nature, and baby gets to boss Dougie around while he tries to take a dump with two people watching and laughing. In our defense, he looks weird when he poops. 

She's a water rat and would spend every minute outside in or around water if I would let her. One day she'd be called 'ol leather skin by the neighborhood kids if she didn't love wearing over sized floppy hats so much. Looks like something out of Steel Magnolias especially if it's purse, and not mustard, day. 

I love my little bun so much, and I'm so happy she picked me. No one else gets me quite like she does, and I rely on her to make me feel good about myself. Also, she's very snugly and rarely a jerk so that helps with the unconditional part of parenting.

Take a minute this week to think about how special you are to have been picked by your kids, or how amazing your moms are for helping you to let your freak flag fly properly.

La vie en rose, little Bunny. ​xoxo