Poor Belly has developed two seriously ridiculous and unfounded fears - crows and hair accessories. I'll start with the hair stuff since it's a shorter story. That girl LOVES brushing her hair and having her hair brushed but don't even think about trying to put a barrette or a ponytail in there. She will react much the same as she does at the doctor when she's getting a shot. Except now that she can use words, if she sees me with a barrette in my hand, she runs screaming, "HURT!" I'd like to state for the record that I've never hurt that child with a barrette.

As for the birds, we have a lot of 'em around here. Belly's still only one and isn't savvy to all the different kinds, but she knows "crows." This is the word that she uses to not only identify big, black birds but also these big, blue-and-black birds that make an incredibly loud cawing sort of noise. And she is terrified of them. I was reminded of this this afternoon when we were at the park. She went from galloping across the grass with a big smile on her face to a sprinting-screaming combination when she passed under a tree and one of those birds called out. I scooped her up and she buried her face in my neck, pulling my hair over her head. One evening a few weeks ago, we had dinner on the back deck and were just wrapping things up. Dude was putting dishes in the sink. I was letting the Bug out of her high chair. Belly was waiting to get out, too. All of a sudden, one of those birds landed on a branch about six feet above Belly's head and cawed. Belly's arms and legs shot straight out; she clenched her eyes shut as tightly as possible; and she S-C-R-E-A-M-E-D. I couldn't get her out of her seat fast enough to properly comfort her, so I picked her up - still strapped in the chair - and carried her a little closer to the house. Picture her booster-seat-style high chair strapped to a big wooden kitchen chair and the whole contraption strapped to that little darling like a turtle shell while I hugged her. I have no clue why she is so afraid of those birds but that fear is very, very real.

The Bug informed me the other day that she had to poop. I took a peek inside the diap and it was, indeed, empty. I quickly ran and snatched up Belly from where she stood coloring at her easel, fumbled to get the gate off the stairs, hoisted both girls into my arms and stumbled upstairs to the bathroom - only to find that Buggy had just finished filling her diaper. Sigh. I took off the diaper, cleaned her up, and perched her on top of the toilet so she could get a sense of how it felt up there on the throne. I heaped praise on her for telling me that she had to go before she did the deed, but reiterated that she then needed to hold it until we got to the toilet. I think we're close. And I think the moral of the story is that I need to get a potty seat for downstairs. 

I'm in a little bit of a cooking rut. Any suggestions that won't destroy my calorie counting ways?

So Dude read my blog. I guess he does this from time to time? I had no idea. He told me the post I wrote just before he came back from Boston was especially interesting for two reasons: 1) I bought shoes and didn't tell him (to which I responded, "Then you also know that I only paid $17 for them and you need to take me out so I have a reason to wear them."); and 2) He thought I came off as a little bit of a prima donna (not his words - but I can't recall his exact words) because I mentioned Nanni and the cleaning ladies. This stressed me out a little bit. I want to be sure I'm clear about a couple things: I know that I am very, very lucky to not have to work right now so I can stay home with the girls. I know that I am very, very lucky to have a cleaning lady come every other week for two hours to wash my floors and bathrooms. I know that I am very, very lucky that I get an afternoon reprieve once a week thanks to Nanni's services. I do not take any of this for granted. And I hope that I don't come off as some sort of entitled bitch who complains about my kids being difficult when I live a pampered life. I know I'm lucky. But I don't think spending $1500/year on housecleaning is some sort of wild extravagance when we're not suffering to pay for it. We eat out only once a week. Buffalo Exchange and Target are the two stores from which I buy most of my clothes. I'm not knocking back hundred-dolla bottles of wine and eating white truffles like candy around here, ya know? You DO know, right? [Insert your "yes" here.] Oh good. I'll shut up now.