Emma's First Haircut

So I did it. Over 2 years later, I finally give in and take Emma to get her hair cut. I just regretted this event because I love her long hair. I can remember when I was about 5 years old, watching an episode of Kid's Incorporated....the hot pink light was shining down on this girl's hair and I just had to cut my hair, so that it shined all nice and pink like that. But as soon as I cut it, I hated it. It wasn't pink. So I've been traumatized ever since, and just don't want Emma to hate her short hair.

But she's only 2. I bet she could care less.

2-Turning-13

My baby girl Emma. She has literally turned from a precious little baby into a little person overnight. A little person with attitude, that is. This girl is truly a little sauce queen when she wants to be.

Now don't get me wrong--she is very sweet and can play the 'innocent' thing when necessary. But when it's just me and Daddy...whoah. She's a little Diva. She loves all things Dora and Cinderella and (most recently, and Lord help me) Barney. She's incredibly independent and demands to do all things herself. "No, Mommy. Emma do it." Simple tasks such as pulling up her pants or wiping her hands is something she must do. Which takes up double the amount of time as it should.

I guess I shouldn't see this as a surprise. She is my little girl, right? I know I was always a little independent, shall I say "bossy" girl? (although I don't like to refer to it as bossy, rather I was a leader. Big difference there.) So I guess I should just be thankful. I have a perfectly healthy, independent child.

Who will surely rule the world. She does mine, anyway.

I know I'm big

So I had my first "rude pregnant" run-in this weekend and I must share.

This Sunday I was able to go to Wal-Mart sans kid and husband. It was glorious. No toddler reaching out for everything. No husband rushing you along the beauty aisle. I was completely free to spend as long as I wanted to, looking over all the completely useless sparkley mascara and medium-sized storage bins. So I spent my sweet, ol time and picked up some fun make-up that I haven't thought about buying since college. What the hell? I had a few extra dollars and the time.

Happily along I went, to the check out where a (what I thought looked like) nice post-middle aged woman was waiting just for me. I put all my items on the belt and she starts scanning. Looking at everything I'm buying, as if it's her business. First clue--she's nosey. But hey, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt--she's probably bored. I would find all the fun, random things interesting too if I was stuck at Wal-Mart on a Sunday evening. Second clue--she actually asks what the sparkely-colored tube of make-up was used for. "None of your business, lady" I wanted to say. But didn't. I explained that it was for your eyes, or for your face. Just something "special," I said.

Just as I was about to leave, the lady goes: "When are you due?" "May," I replied.

Her jawl drops and she goes "May??!" "Yes," I say. "What was the response for?" (I couldn't help it; I knew what she was thinking. May seems like an awfully long time away. My belly's awefully big.) "You're just really big," says nosey/politcally incorrect/rude lady. So I snap back: "Well you're just really rude."

And I walk away, feeling a sense of pride that I just put her in her place.

Listen, folks. Don't ever--under any circumstances--comment about the size of a pregnant woman. It wasn't that I was offended. I'm really over it, being my second pregnancy and all. I really just wanted to put her in her place.

Big Girl Bed

One question here: why doesn't anyone warn you how incredibly hard it is to transition a toddler into a big kid bed?!? We went from a kid who easily went to sleep for 11 hours, uninterrupted, without having any to coax into her crib, to a kid who gets up thirty million times a night. Let me break it down for you.

Night #1: Inform Emma all day long that she's getting a big girl bed. Her crib will now be "baby Drew's." She was so excited about it all--the fact that she's getting a new bed; the fact that "baby Drew" gets her crib...the whole kit and koobodle. Didn't think this was going to be a problem, based on this excitement.

We were wrong.

After reading to her (as we normally do), we tuck her in and tell her that big girls stay in their beds. Not even 30 seconds after we close the door, Emma opens up the door. Okay, no big deal. We anticipated that this would happen. Probably will a few times, but that's to be expected, right?

After 30 trips and 2.5 hours later, she finally gets to sleep. But only after Andy sits in her room, without saying anything, just so she doesn't get up again. And I must mention--Andy is much more patient than me. I was at the point of locking the freakin' girl in her room, I was getting so aggrevated! I had had it. Good thing I married a patient person.

Night #2: Went through the normal routine: read a book, tucked her in, tell her big girls stay in their bed. Worked for about 2 minutes. She got back up. So, remembering how Andy finally got her to sleep, I sat down on the floor, without saying anything, until she went to sleep. Only took 25 minutes! I was so excited and proud, I texted Andy of her accomplishment (as he was happily celebrating our discusting defeat to the Chargers for a second year in a row).

But wait--after about 1.5 hours, I hear little footsteps coming down the stairs. "Emma what are you doing up. Big girls stay in their bed. Go back up and get in your big girl bed." Nothing happens; not a word, no action. Nothing. She's just standing there. So I ask her if she wants Mommy to tuck her in. In response I get a sweet, "Yeeeeah." So I truck it up the stairs and put her to bed. Tell her again, "Emma big girls stay in their beds. (Taking a cue from a cousin, who has 2 girls herself) If you stay in your bed all night long, you'll get a prize. Do you want a prize?" Of course she says yes and....
it works! She stayed in bed until 8:00 the next morning. I'm thinking, not too bad this time!

Night #3: Again, went through the normal routine: read a book, tucked her in, tell her big girls stay in their bed. Andy sat in her room, on the floor, not saying anything and 10 minutes later he returns downstairs. Seeing how it's only been 10 minutes, I say, "What's wrong? Are you missing her baby dolls? Does she need something else?" Oh, no! She went down in 10 minutes!

Wahoo!!!! At this rate, this should only take (I'm thinking) about a week or so. But yet, it's only been 3 days. Let's keep our fingers crossed that we'll soon be over this new adventure. I'll keep you posted.