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Another Big Bite

Another Big Bite

Tag Archives: alice

Childhood Milestone: The “Littlest A-Hole” Stage

21 Monday Apr 2014

Posted by anotherbigbite in Bitchfest, My Two Cents, The "Joy" of Parenting

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

alice, children, parenting, terrible twos, two year old

Don't let that cute, whipped cream covered face fool you.

Don’t let that cute, whipped cream covered face fool you.

Before I go on, the blogging community requires that I mention this disclaimer:

DISCLAIMER:  I love my children (probably more than you love yours) and think the world of them.

But…

My daughter has turned into a monster.  She has her moments of pure innocence and gentleness, sure.  But most of the time, she acts like a complete asshole.

We went through this stage with Finn when he was about this age, and it wasn’t until Alice started her round that we realized Finny’s had ended quite some time ago. For the most part, Finn has developed into a very nice young man.  He is rambunctious, doesn’t always listen and has the (slightly more than) occasional tantrum, but he is generally nice to people and doesn’t act like a little fucker simply for the sake of acting like a little fucker anymore.

Oh, lord…  She is saying these things about her children!  Calling them horrible names; cuss words, even!  How could a woman ever think such things about the  cherubs that burst their way from her very own uterus, causing sleep deprivation, memory loss, pain, saggy boobs, memory loss and lack of cultural awareness?

Most sane individuals would call this “the terrible twos.”  I choose to call it what it is.  And while your children probably were never assholes (and eat only a gluten-free, free range, organic diet 100% of the time and have never laid eyes on a McNugget, battery operated toy or a television screen), mine certainly have been in their short lives.  I’ve read my fair share of compassionate parenting blogs and no one seems to want to admit that children are being complete pricks for no other reason than they can.

“Mommy.  Peee-you.  You farted.  Ewww.”  She gives me a look of disgust that would make Gary Busey run for cover.

Seriously?  Now she is blaming me for her flatulence?  Where did she pick this up?  I can be immature at times, but it isn’t like I’m gonna get into a school yard brawl about who farted.  I have better, more adult things to do than fight over whose stench permeates her delicate nostrils.

“I most certainly did not!  Don’t blame me for that!  I wasn’t the one who broke into the pantry and ate three fistfuls of dried apricots!”

Well, most of the time I have more adult things to do.

My sweet little angel, what have you become?  One minute you are a little peanut, snuggled in my arms as I rocked you to sleep…  The next moment you are trying to flog the dog with your princess wand (which I’ve learned is really nothing more than a sword for girls) and pull Finn’s hair because his feet touched yours.  Heaven forbid anyone in this house would want to take a shower without your brow-knitted scowl demanding that you also be included.  If we refuse, you lapse into a foot-stomping, teeth-gnashing flail fest.  Punching the iPad?  Shoving your plate on the floor because the strawberries are cut up?

Lady, I am damn particular about my food as well, but I do not negotiate with terrorists.

I get it, I get it.  She is testing her boundaries…  Trying to find her place in our little family unit.  Yes, that is great.  But blaming me when she farts?  Really?

After Nathan tucked her in the other night, she gave him a kiss.  “I love you, little lady,” he tells her.

“I love you, too, Daddy.”  Cue the heart-melting…  “Now go.”  She rolls over, sticks her thumb in her mouth and asks for me.

See?  Asshole, I tell you.

But, at the end of the day, she’s our little asshole.  And truth be told, she is very much her mother’s daughter.  If it means we come to blows over strawberries diced into manageably sized pieces, so be it.  From one a-hole to another, I love you, Al.

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Happy Birthday, Princess Christmas!

17 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by anotherbigbite in From the Kitchen, Party Hearty, The "Joy" of Parenting

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

alice, ariel cake, birthday party, cake decorating, marzipan, two year old

alice bday10

Sunday was Alice’s second birthday.  I love the kids’ birthdays, because I can do little things that make them SUPER excited because they are so young.  I’m not sure if Alice got what a birthday was before Sunday, but oh boy, she does now.

I started gearing up for our “party” on Saturday morning…  I baked a cake that Alice picked out in the baking aslie at the grocery store – because I am a cakemix kinda gal.  She didn’t care what flavor it was… Until she saw the strawberry one.

“PINK!” She pointed and gasped like she had never seen anything so wonderful in all her life.  She was actually petting the box the rest of the time we were in the store.

alicebday7

While Alice snoozed and the boys were out shopping on Saturday afternoon, I started to decorate the cake.  There is concise list of things that Alice goes bananas for; Ariel, ponies, elephants, horses.  Anything pink.  So Ariel it was.  I have spent lots of time toiling over fondant, but there was no way I was trying to gag that down again until I had tried the same process with marzipan.  Ariel was my guinea pig.  Sure, she wasn’t worthy of Ace of Cakes or anything, but Alice didn’t care.  Ariel, Flounder and Sebastian were perched atop her strawberry cake in less than an hour, and I was happy it was OVER.

Once the kids went to sleep, I got to hanging the $7 pack of gaudy Disney Princess decorations that Alice lost her mind over at Walmart.  Since we aren’t rolling in acquaintances here in C.Springs, parties are just the four of us.  Which doesn’t mean decorations and party plates aren’t in order.

alice bday7

Finn woke us up with his excited little self all nuts over Alice’s birthday decorations and impending present-opening.  He was more excited than she was.

alice bday8

Alice opened her presents from us in the morning, but as soon as we were done, I was ACHING to pull out the cake and open the rest of the presents.  Nathan obliged, because who doesn’t love cake for breakfast?

alice bday1

alice bday2

So, without pause, at eight in the morning, we lit two candles, sang Happy Birthday and set about pulling barbies and tiny teapots from their packages.  It was amazing.  Especially when the Ariel barbie from Mima was unwrapped.  Cue the squeals.

alice bday3

alice bday5

alice bday4

alice bday9

Finn was so happy for her; it was very sweet.  He helped wrapped the package he picked out for her, and set about cutting the ribbons off all the packages for her with his safety scissors.

We had taken the kids to see Frozen on Saturday for Alice’s birthday.  When we asked her where she wanted to go for lunch on Sunday, she promptly and very finally declared:

“Donalds.”

And so Chicken McNuggets were on the menu.  After a nap and lots of playtime with all her new lovlies, we packed up and headed to dinner.  Oh my god… How did she grow up so fast??

alice bday6

I cannot get over that it was two years ago that I went into the hospital, terrified that having the second baby was going to throw me back into another round of postpartum depression, but instead, I left happy and snuggly with little Alice.  She was such a good baby – one of THOSE babies, and now she is turning out to be so… so… Alice.

Happy Birthday, my little lady.  You are my very favorite daughter.  (Which I can say without any doubt – and say it proudly – since you are my only one.)

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They See Me Strollin’. They Hatin’.

02 Friday Aug 2013

Posted by anotherbigbite in I'm a Crafty Mo' Fo', The "Joy" of Parenting

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

alice, before and after, crafts, diy, doll stroller, dolls, goodwill, kids, parenting, recycle, sewing, upcycle, upcycling

Another Big Bite - Doll Stroller Makeover

Oh, Alice and her babies.

She’s been enamored with baby dolls since she’s been able to sit up.  Finn suggested we get her a stroller for her first birthday, which turned out to be a stroke of genius.  We ordered a plastic Fisher Price walker-type one from Amazon, and she was on a roll. Once she realized that she had more than just the one baby, all hell broke loose because the other babies were too big.

That one has been banished to the basement for its tantrum-causing tendencies.  Don’t worry; it has the giant cardboard bricks, slot-cars and Hot Wheel track down there to keep it company.

Last week, after my I-should-get-rid-of-my-crappy-Old-Navy-clothes epiphany, I whittled down my closet by almost half and lugged two giant blue Ikea bags full of clothes to Goodwill.  I made the mistake of popping in.  And left $3.00 poorer with this icky bad boy in my trunk.

Another Big Bite - Doll Stroller Makeover before

I scrubbed the hell out of it with Clorox wipes.  Instead of being a regular person and plunking the cover in the wash, I made a new cover.  Just trying to make the world a little cuter, one beat-up doll stroller at a time.

It wasn’t rocket science; I used a seam ripper to tear it apart and then traced the pieces onto leftover fabric scraps.  Oh, yeah, canvas dropcloth to the rescue yet again!  I’m gonna milk that baby as long as I can.  Best twenty bucks I’ve ever spent.  Since the original stroller fabric was finished in bias tape (which tests my sewing skills and frustrates me to no end) and I was fresh out (shucky-darn, motherfucka), I opted to double up the canvas with some cute Amy Butler fabric I had lying around waiting for a project.  That meant adding a bit of seam allowance.

photo 1 (12)

Then traced my canvas on to the cute fabric...

Then traced my canvas on to the cute fabric…

I made sure to add elastic loops, static loops and velcro wherever the original had it.  The original had a pair of D-rings and webbing for the belt to hold the doll in.  Alice would have long outgrown this darn thing before she was able to manipulate those, so I improvised a velcro/fabric belt instead.

1stroller1

Now she’s happier than a brand-new momma with a Bugaboo…  (Probably because she gets more sleep).  And I’m happier because this one folds up and hides in the cabinets in the living room when she’s done.

Ohmygod!  She was so little in December!  And not even walking on her own.

Ohmygod! She was so little in December! And not even walking on her own.

1stroller4

1stroller3

“Back up, lady. That last Petite Vanilla Scone has my name written all over it.”

No stroller, but I couldn't resist.

No stroller, but I couldn’t resist.

This should stay relevant until she realizes they make DOUBLE strollers for dolls…  I’ll plead with her to reconsider putting it on her Christmas list.  (“Please, Alice, honey.  Your father and I thought we had to have a double stroller for the two of you kids…  And that thing is a bitch to get around.  And takes up too much real estate in the garage…  Even though it is AMAZING.”)  But she’ll be just like her mom – and won’t listen to her mother’s sage advice.

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The Slippery American-Girl-Doll Slope

15 Monday Jul 2013

Posted by anotherbigbite in Nerd Alert, The "Joy" of Parenting, The Good Ole Days

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

alice, American Girl Doll, american girl doll store, birthday, birthday experience, childhood, christmas present, daughter, diy, dolls, Emily, little girls, Molly, parenting, repairing dolls, restringing, tightening american girl doll limbs

Nathan surprised us at the zoo on my birthday.  I took the kids to see the new lion exhibit (Which was terrifyingly awesome, since the female lions are not getting along with the new male and have been attacking him.  I’ve never seen lions in a zoo do anything but lie around and pant – and as soon as they started leaping off the rocks, growling at the poor guy and giving him the evil eye, everyone was ushered away and curtains were drawn in front of the glass.).  I love me some zoo – and Nae let me indulge my whims without letting us know he was taking the afternoon off work to celebrate my birthday.  He showed up at the zoo restaurant for lunch, surprised Finny in the most spectacular way and then whisked us all off to Denver for a “special surprise.”

The stage was set for this wonderful 32nd birthday experience when I was about six…  Like many girls at the time, every time the American Girl catalogue would come in the mail, I would pour over it; studying every last detail, and wishing for the day when someone would miraculously fork over $85.00 for a doll for me to fawn over.  After patiently waiting for four or five years, I burst into bona fide tears of joy when I unwrapped my Christmas present from my grandparents.  I think the first thing I opened was Molly’s pajamas, and by the time I dug through the pile for the doll-sized box, I was shaking.  It was like hugging a pen pal you had spent (literally) half your life pouring over every detail of their life (from the books) and silently clutching their letters to your bosom hoping for one day to meet them in the flesh.

It was, without exaggeration, the happiest moment in my young life.  It was if I had met a celebrity and now she was destined to be the very best friend I had ever dreamed of.  For those of you good at math, yes… I was close to eleven at the time.

Start 'em young.

Starting ’em young.

And now, at the age of 32, Nathan was driving me to the American Girl store to buy Molly’s best friend Emily.  Once the catalog came (addressed to Alice these days) announcing Molly and Emily’s retirement, I was inexplicably heartbroken.  I could not find a single good reason to feel sad about a toy being discontinued…  I had Molly, she served me well in my adolescence, stood guard over my bedroom from her perch atop my dresser until I moved out of the house and now is safely tucked away into storage at my grandmother’s house.  No matter what the reason, I mourned just a smidge for Molly and her WWII world.

Though I’m not much for finding solace in retail therapy, the promise of Emily was a little exhilarating.  And there it was, that same feeling of twittery anticipation I felt when I was ten, pulling the lid off of Molly’s burgundy box as gently and quickly as I could without tearing it.

When we arrived, Alice was beside herself amidst the army of plastic faces smiling down on her.  While Nathan and Finn gracefully bowed out to take refuge in the Lego store, Alice and I spent the next hour studying all the tiny accessories, taking doll strollers for test drives and stroking all the dolls’ hair.  We gathered up Emily, her tiny little scrapbook and cardigan and headed to the register.  Sure, Emily was mine, but I’m not a heartless bastard.  We took her out of her box, and for the rest of the day, Alice carried her around the mall, hugged her the whole way home and almost lost it as I tucked her in without the company of sweet, little Emily.

My original plan was to strip Emily of her 1940’s-era outfit, make her a stand-in outfit for Alice to play with her in, and when Alice lost interest, redress her and tuck her away.  Once Alice was old enough to respect the fact that I could buy a week’s worth of groceries with the cash I spent on this doll, we would haul her out and she may become the friend to Alice that Molly was to me.

Ha.  Cue the moment when Alice starts ripping out her hair, and Emily was packed away early the next morning.

When my mom sent me money for my birthday (something she NEVER does, and told me she was not proud of herself for doing so), I whipped open Craigslist on my phone and set to work finding an American Girl Doll that Alice could love as much as Emily.  And rip her hair out without causing me to go into a holy conniption.  Before long, I was and negotiating prices, pouring over pictures and getting ready to break my number one rule about Craigslisting; NEVER GO PICK ANYTHING UP WITHOUT NATHAN.

photo 1 (6)

When we got her, she was a hot mess.  Her hair was a nest of tangles and her limbs wiggled sadly from their joints.  This is why you are getting her for a steal, Lisa… She needs work.  Her previous owners thought of her as a lost cause, but you can resurrect her!!  (Until Alice destroys her once again.)

I scrubbed her down with Clorox wipes and buffed her clean with a Magic Eraser.  While Alice impatiently grunted next to me, I meticulously alternated misting her hair with water and tediously combing out her snarls.  By the end of that ordeal, she didn’t look so bad.

Woah.  Those are some BANGS.

Woah. Those are some BANGS.  Fo reals.

We washed her clothes, dressed her in a new outfit, pulled her hair back, and Alice set about toting her little shadow around the house.  She kept calling her Emily, which is one of the most adorable things EVER for a little person to try to say “Emily,” but since we can’t go around having two dolls with the same name, we dubbed this one Natalie…  I tried Lily, Elizabeth and even Buttercup (as in the Princess Bride – awesomest Rob Reiner film EVER), but Finn thought Natalie was the best choice.  And so it is.

I watched a few YouTube videos on how to restring AG dolls (to make her limbs nice and tight) and was equal parts excited and horrified.  If you would have told my ten-year-old self that I would one day dismantle an American Girl doll, I would have punched you in the face.  The thought of taking apart Molly would have been akin to shaving my head.  But here I was, steeling my nerves and untying the strings that held Natalie’s head in place.

photo 3 (5)

It may not have been the best idea to do this while Alice was awake.  She watched on with a look of slight panic plastered to her face as I pulled out the doll’s stuffing.  The sewing nerd in me thought; hey, this is some NICE polyfill…  

Instead of opting to take her completely apart and reassemble her, I found a YouTube video that promised to fix doll’s limbs with just a handful of ponytail holders.  I decided to give that a try.

photo 2 (5)

And whadya know?  Worked like a charm.  By the time she was all stuffed again, Alice had gone upstairs, gotten another doll and plunked her on the dining room table next to me and my own operation.  As I tied Natalie’s head back on, Alice fiddled with the strings on the other doll.  Oh, no.  I may have just inadvertently created a doll-surgeon-monster.  As a tiny kid, I would sneak my mom’s manicure set into my room and perform surgery on my stuffed animals and dolls.  My mom would spend countless hours sewing them back up, and I got my share of sitting in the corner because of it.  Was Alice going to be the same way because I let her witness the beheading?

photo 4 (2)

TOTALLY worth it.

So, yes.  It was still a bunch of money to spend on a doll for a not-even-two-year-old, but like I told my mom, it is as much for me as it is for her.  She’ll never get to experience the years of anticipation and buildup that make a girl truly treasure a Christmas where you open the toy you have been dreaming about for years.  And my bet is she won’t have the same amount of respect or appreciation for American Girl dolls that she should.  But just as Nathan giggled like a little boy when we got Finn an obscene amount of Hot Wheel track for (a way-too-young) Finny, I’m reliving part of my own childhood through Alice.

photo 5 (2) If you think I’ll ever get her into acting, modeling or pageants, though..  THAT kind of living through your child is not something I’ll ever subject the kids to.  Suggest that, and I might actually punch you in the face.  Just sayin.

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We an inclination…

18 Monday Mar 2013

Posted by anotherbigbite in Out of Doors, The "Joy" of Parenting

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

alice, colorado, colorado springs, finn, hiking, Manitou Incline, outdoors, The Incline

…to hike up The Incline.  Specifically, The Manitou Incline.

photo 1 (2)

Actually, Nathan and a few friends from work had the inclination; the kids and I were just along for the ride.  If I had known what I was agreeing to when Nathan asked if I wanted to “hike The Incline” I most likely would have bailed out.  The trail used to be a cog railroad track; after the tracks were wiped out in a rock slide, the rails were removed and fitness nuts started hiking up it FOR FUN.  Naturally.

via

“Hiking The Incline” sounded pretty lame-o; sure I was game!  As we got closer, I started to worry…  Fifteen minutes before you get to the parking lot, you can see it cut straight up the mountain.  This short, mile-long trail is hella steep.  It climbs over 2,000 feet in elevation, which doesn’t mean much if you aren’t into this kind of thing (Mom).  Allow me to put it into perspective: you know those signs on mountain roads that warn truckers of steep grades?  Like this?

via

The highest I’ve ever seen is 7% grade, and with a hill that steep, there is no gas; only brake, and you FLY down those hills.  Going up – even in our peppy little car, the best you can do is down shift and get in the right lane.

The Incline is a 68% grade in places.  Uphill.

Nathan and I did it with the kids on our backs.

At first, we meandered up the base at Finn’s pace, with Alice riding on Nae’s back.  I am not anywhere in the shape I used to be in, but we were still passing folks left and right.  Focusing on Finn’s safety kept me from psyching myself out and after a good long stretch, I had the ridiculous, fleeting notion that maybe it just looked bad from the base, and now that we are right here in the middle of it, it wasn’t so bad.  Which, of course, is right when it really starts to climb.  Life is a bitch that way; just when you get in the thick of something and start to hit your stride, that bastard of a hill reaches for the sky for no other reason than to make you question your sanity for ever wanting to do something as menial as walk up a big hill.

photo 2

Finny was such a mini trooper…  He made it halfway up before we forced him into the backpack.  Nathan switched Alice out into my back and Finn rode in the super kid-carrier.  At the halfway mark, (still passing people), a pattern started to emerge…  Folks would comment on how crazy we were bring the kids, how we “better be safe with those little bundles of joy on our backs,” that we were “animals.”  Don’t get me wrong, it was tough, but really?  We weren’t the only ones doing it with kids.  Maybe it’s all those vegetables we are eating.

There's me and Alice!

There’s me and Alice!

All of a sudden I looked up, and whoa… I was a lot closer to the top than I thought.  Like, holy crap, I thought I was getting along at a snail’s pace, literally scrambling up the ties on all fours (I ain’t got any shame).  Turns out I was only two thirds of the way up.  There is a false summit; once you crest what you think is the top, there are only eight million more steps to climb.  Yes, you have been hiking for over an hour, but you turn around and realize that you can STILL SEE THE EFFING CAR.  Alice and I copped a squat, I unhitched her and we waitied a few minutes for Nathan to catch up.  It was hysterical – Nathan was doing what he does best (kicking ass) all the while huffing and puffing and Finn just lazily munches his way through a Granny Smith, all smiley and content while his ass was being carted up the hill like a sack o’taters.

photo 4

The good news is this: once we got past the false summit, the tracks were nice and straight.  Even though it was the steepest leg, every step was level.  We stopped a few more times, and Bob’s your uncle – we were at the top.  It only took us an hour and a half.  Only.  Because we were almost the last ones of the group to get to the top, we had a nice little pep squad to welcome us.  High fives all around.

Yeah, walkin’ up a hill, no big deal.  Like a boss.

The pole marks the unoffcial tippy top.

The pole marks the unoffcial tippy top.

photo 1 (1)

The very best part was hiking the Barr Trail down.  It was georgous, if not a little bit of an ego check.  There we were, all high up on ourselves for making it to the top, and on the way down, there were people RUNNING past us.  I had a hard time not falling on my ass in a few places (I, in fact, did), and though it felt like I was hauling, low and behold, some dude with his running shorts half falling off would come zipping along past us.  Not that I didn’t enjoy his expanse of tan-line.  Cue Nathan’s epic eye roll, by the way.

photo 2 (1)

After gorging ourselves silly at one of the local Mexican restaurants in Manitou Springs (veggie fajitas and I was so proud that I didn’t even touch the sour cream), we headed home with two very sleepy kiddos and hit the showers.  When we were laying in bed that night, Nae was Googling the heck out of The Incline.  We were completely unaware that hiking The Incline is actually, like, a thing.  The fastest anyone has ever climbed it is somewhere around sixteen minutes, which totally puts us to shame, but lots of non-fitness-y folks climb it in two hours.  Olympic hopefuls use it to train for god’s sake, and here we are; stopping halfway to nosh on peanut butter sandwiches.

I laughed my ass off at one of the guys who hiked it with us.  His Facebook post touted that he murdered The Incline with twenty weights worth of weights in his backpack like the BAMF (Bad Ass Mother Fucker) that he is.  How is this hilarious?  He bitched the entire way and swore he was never doing it again five or six times.  Proving once again that you should never take what anyone posts on their FB Timeline too seriously.  (Yes, he got to the top, just like I did, but…  Let the record show that Alice weighs twenty FIVE pounds.  Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.)

Moral of the story is this; I’m glad I didn’t have the opportunity to talk myself out of it. Whether it be eating vegan or climbing a mountain, I’m starting to realize that the biggest obstacle between me and something big is… Well, me.

I’m almost as proud of myself as I am of Finny.  Knowing that he walked (half of) the same path as world-class athletes is pretty cool.  And he did it without a single complaint.  What a BAMF.

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