A letter of begging

Dear Peyton,

I love you with all of my heart, but right now we have a major issue: you have decided that naptime is no longer acceptable. I know you are too young to understand what is best for you, but please, listen to your mommy. I promise I know what I am talking about. This may be the only time I am certain that I am right when it comes to raising you. Naptime is a necessity, for both you and me. Perhaps because I am carrying your little sister in my belly, I have become particularly attached to naptime. If you want to have a nice, peaceful little sister that naps well and doesn't scream all day, it is time to train her now. Let mommy and little sister get their naptime! And we cannot do that until you decide that your crib is not a playground but instead a place for quiet time and naps. Please child, don't take away my sanity quite yet! I NEED SLEEP. And so do you. I have even forgiven you for the dramatic tantrums that you tend to have in public. Either that or I have become immune to the embarrassment of you throwing yourself on the ground, screaming and crying as other people look on with horrified expressions on their faces. I am the redhead, not you. Drama is my specialty, not yours. Lord knows daddy can't deal with two drama queens. But I have put all that aside. I didn't even throw a fit when you decided two naps a day was definitely out of the question. But no naps? Absolutely not, child. You are going to do it. Because I said so.

Love,
Your tired yet hopeful momma

A crappy afternoon indeed

Brad and I went to my OB appointment this morning where I got another ultrasound that confirmed that we are definitely having a girl! We left Peyton behind with a fabulous babysitter and when I returned two hours later, Peyton was sound asleep. I thanked the babysitter and decided to go lay down and close my eyes for a few minutes during this rare moment of peace and quiet. About an hour later, I woke up and saw that Peyton was awake too, playing in her crib. I wasn't ready to throw myself out of bed yet and Peyton was content playing so I stayed in bed for a few more minutes. I heard Peyton squealing, laughing, and having a great time. I should have known then that she was up to no good. Finally a few minutes later, I decided to get up and get Peyton out of the crib so we could get ready to head over to my mom's to help babysit my nieces. I walked down the hallway and was suddenly overcome with an unpleasant smell. I thought to myself, "Peyton has a poopy diaper, poor thing, and I left her in there." I walked into the room and was immediately concerned. The smell was horrendous. Peyton was naked. Her hair was sticking straight up like Cameron Diaz in 'Something about Mary.' And she was suddenly a few shades darker as if she had been napping in the tanning bed.

She was covered in poop.

That's right. She took off her clothes, took off her diaper, pooped in the bed, and decided to decorate the crib for me. Oh, and to use it as body art as well. Let's just say Peyton is a fabulous artist. I was so horrified I screamed. Poor Peyton was so startled and started boo hooing. I picked her up unable to hug her since she was coated in poop, ran to my bathroom, and threw her in the bath tub. She absolutely loves bath time, so she began squealing in delight completely unaware and without a care in the world that the water was now turning brown as well.

After using several bottles of shampoo and soap, Peyton finally emerged from the tub with her original skin color. I gave her a lecture about what diapers are for and pointed out other ways she can show her love for me, but I have a strong suspicion that it went in one ear and out the other. Completely oblivious to my exhaustion and anger about having to wash poop out of places it's not supposed to be, Peyton decided to inform me it was movie time. She parked her naked self on my ottoman and looked at me expectedly as if saying "Come on lady, I don't have all day. Start my movie." Completely flabergasted, I yanked a diaper out and shoved it on her while simultaneously contemplating pulling out the duct tape as well, then turned on her movie as I went to clean up her art project.

30 minutes later and satisfied that her room reeked of bleach and all the sheets and blankets were now in the washing machine that was set to the sanitary cycle, I grabbed her and off to Mimi's we went. What a crappy afternoon indeed!

Easter!

We celebrated Easter by heading over to my parents house where the Easter Bunny (aka Mimi) was so generous and left dozens of eggs with special treats inside for Evans and Peyton! Evans was a pro at finding eggs and even shared some with Peyton who was more concerned about the chocolate inside the eggs. That Easter dress I stressed out about for weeks trying to find? That gorgeous pink dress lasted all of 15 minutes before it was covered with chocolate gooeyness. Oh well, it was worth it.

Completely oblivious to all the eggs behind her.

Giving Evans a not-s0-friendly not-sharing-my-candy look.

Beware of headbutting

For those few people who make the short list of being special enough to hold Peyton (she has high standards), they are now at risk of Peyton's newest token of affection - being headbutted. You read that right. No, it wasn't a typo. Peyton likes to headbutt you smack dab in the forehead, sometimes on the cheek on those rare days her aim is slightly off. She likes to throw you off and lean in for a kiss, then WHAM! You are the proud owner of a new bruise with a side of migraine. Not sure where she learned this charming behavior, but I know she's too young to have seen Zidane's famous headbutt (2006 World Cup for those who are clueless). Perhaps she is watching YouTube when I am not looking?

Another fabulous behavior Peyton is showering me with is the eye roll. The kid has officially mastered the dreaded eye roll. At 19 months old. Do you understand how bad this is? She is nowhere close to being a teenager. Heck, she's nowhere close to being a preteen and she is already giving me a 'tude in the most annoying way possible. How, how, HOW is she learning this??? I would immediately point my finger at any (maybe all) of Peyton's Sewanee "Aunts" but only Lauren has met her and she is just too sweet to do this to me. Right? The other night after a rather long day of Peyton letting me know every minute that I was doing something wrong, I asked her for a kiss before I put her to bed. She actually rolled her eyes. She was nice enough to slightly lean in so I could give her a kiss, but not before letting me know she wasn't the biggest fan of my loving. I've said it before, but I truly think my mom is laughing herself to sleep at night seeing how much trouble Peyton is giving me and Evans with Clare. Clare and I weren't the best teenagers growing up and mom would tell us "Just you wait until you have kids!" Well, the day where she says "I told you so" has arrived and came with a massive bang that will keep my ears ringing for years, possibly decades. But no matter how loud the bang, I will still be able to hear mom mutter those words accompanied with an evil laugh.

Fetch anyone?

Today was a rather long day since Peyton woke up in a foul mood and didn't hesitate to let me know every second of every minute of every hour. We did manage to make it to Chik-fil-a with Clare, Evans, and Brooks for a lunch/playdate. Peyton did fairly well and we escaped with no major breakdowns. Clare convinced me to run a quick shopping errand to The Pants Store (if you haven't checked this store out, you need to do so asap) after lunch, and unfortunately Peyton did have a breakdown there. But, it was after she did a faceplant and came back up for air with a huge egg on her forehead so it was to be expected. Back home we went and I put Peyton straight down for a nap. So didn't happen. I was exhausted at this point. I grumbled some adult words to myself, got her up, and back to playtime it was. I fought a losing battle trying to get her to eat some dinner, but she is positively the pickiest eater ever - something I know my mom is laughing to herself about since I wasn't the best eater growing up. Payback is a certain 5-letter word. Soon it was getting close to bedtime and she was still wired. I even let her play in the bathtub for a long time, but then I was grossed out with how wrinkled her feet and fingers became and immediately plucked her from the tub. Still wired. Finally after getting her dried off and dressed for bed, I sat on the couch and just watched her play. I was pooped out. Then, she came across the soccer ball. She hurriedly picked it up and threw it in my lap, excitedly waiting to see what I would do. A light bulb went off in my head. I said to Peyton in an overly dramatic voice, "hey, let's play fetch!" I tested my idea out by throwing the ball across the room and sure enough, Peyton was game. She ran after the ball, scooped it up, came back, and threw it in my lap eagerly waiting for the next throw. We did this for 20 minutes until Peyton was sportin' flushed cheeks. I was so proud of myself. I gave her some milk and asked if she was ready for bed. She didn't protest; instead, she actually led the way to her bedroom. I was certain she was going to be out in a few minutes. I kissed her goodnight, and laid her down.

An hour later and she is still playing in her bed. Guess we need to try longer distances next time. Oh well, I tried.

My baby's got a fever

Poor Peyton has her first real fever. Unfortunately we have been trying to find a decent thermometer for the past 18 months and have never been able to accurately check her temp when we thought she was feverish. I finally "accidently" brought home one from work and finally gave up with trying to get a temp from her armpit; instead I apologized profusely to Peyton and got a temp from a certain area that belongs in the diaper. Poor thing was so surprised and looked at me like "WHAT are you doing lady?" 100.2 - her first documented fever. Granted it's not much of a fever, but for someone who has never really had a fever, it counts. She has been pitiful all day. She did help me with unloading the dishwater but broke down into a dramatic tantrum when she couldn't get the door open to one of the cabinets. Poor thing isn't feel too hot.

So here we go with Tylenol and rechecking the temp in an hour. If it's the same or higher, time to call the pediatrician. I've got her settled on our bed with some water and popcorn, watching The Princess and the Frog.

Apparently Peyton is well-trained

Tonight I came home from work and was sitting on the couch watching Peyton play before it was her bedtime. Brad decided to use some leftover hot dog from Peyton's dinner to practice some commands with the dogs. As Brad told the dogs to sit, Peyton immediately sat down and repeated the command, adding the letter H in her version of the word (I still giggle every time, so sad). Brad told the dogs to lay down, and again Peyton followed the command and laid down immediately. This went on for a few minutes back and forth between sitting and laying down and my smart little girl got every command right every time and she was very well darned pleased with herself. I couldn't tell who was wagging their booty from excitement the most, Peyton or Ranger. I'm not sure if she ever realized Brad was trying to practice with the dogs, but hey, Peyton likes hot dogs - just like her momma.

So, apparently Peyton is well-trained.

After the mini training session, it was bedtime. Peyton recently has developed this oh-so-fun habit of screaming bloody murder till she turns blue in the face to announce her presence in the world in case you already didn't know. Well tonight as Brad was changing her and putting her PJs on, she decided it was once again time to remind the folks that a little girl named Peyton lived in Homewood, Alabama. She saw me about to say something to interrupt her screaming and then before I could even get a word out, she put her finger to her mouth and told me to "Shhhhhh." She thought it was so hilarious she did it again. Screaming bloody murder, followed by a very serious "Shhhhhh." She alternated between these two until her poor lungs cried "mercy!" Of course by then Brad and I were bent over in giggles, and once again, Peyton beamed with pride. My sweet angel could not be any cuter.