We are right on the cusp of the greatest time of the year

I should have known when I wanted to do these hay bail pictures that any daughter of mine would have a problem with touching hay. It "scratches," a lot like the dress I put on her Sunday before church. I know nothing about raising boys, but I can tell you one thing: girls are a piece of work. A complicated, picky, demanding piece of work.

We had to bribe her with candy and a horseback ride if she would cooperate. She was good for about 2 pictures then I requested that she lay on the hay. It was at that point that it all went south. 

But I totally sympathize with her about the "scratchy" dress because I endured a long, painful childhood surround by dresses, underwear, and socks that almost caused my skin to fall off it itched so badly. I will admit, there might times that I'm a little overly dramatic; this is not one of those times. That's exactly why I let her change dresses Sunday morning. 

Since football season starts this weekend, that also means it is officially fall at our house. I plan to burn so many fall candles that somebody comes near an allergic reaction. And there will be rotel dip in the crock pot, and there will possibly be a fall wreath on the door. It will just be so peaceful and lovely especially when you consider that MAJOR MELTDOWN that will take place between Reese and her daddy over whose show is going to be aired on the "big TV."  I've got my money on the big guy because although she might have negotiating power in most cases, her Peppa Pig versus his football game doesn't stand a chance. Even when she brings out the big guns (aka: batting her eyes and saying things like "pwetty pwease daddy with shuga on top.") But before it is all over there will be a big fight and it will be a tight race as to who acts the worst. 

Last week Adam tried to get her to say roll tide, she replied with "No, war eagle." And let me tell y'all that that grown man started pretend crying about it. She doesn't like it when people cry, so she finally broke down and said roll tide. That was below the belt, A-master. Below. The. Belt. 

First week back in the real world

 I can't even tell y'all how proud I am of our little off spring. I had some concerns about school starting back and her return to "Betebez" house. This summer she went to Liz's 3 times and cried every single time, but it's like she just knew it was time to go back because she has been happy as a pig in the sunshine every morning this week.

Or maybe she was tired of me.

No. No, that couldn't have been it.

Last Friday we made a final before-school-starts-back trip to town to stock up on the essential. She got bags and got us some "begebles." Not that she is going to let a vegetable grace the presence of her mouth.

 Somebody has taken her to the fish area before...and it wasn't me. If it poops or needs to be fed, it ain't coming to our house (with the exception of the wee little one on the way. Other than that, momma can't take on any more responsibility.). Oh, but she just stared longingly at those tanks. (P.S.This is mainly for the grandparents- anybody that gives her a fish for her upcoming birthday will be kindly removed from the invitation list next year.)

I have decided that Sunday is the designated ironing day. I know this make me some kind of weirdo, but I actually enjoying cleaning the house. I don't know why. I don't understand it. But ironing??? Not so much. My 2 least favorite chores are folding up clothes and ironing. Which is exactly why Reese and Elynn will inherit those 2 chores the second they are old enough. So Sunday I was ironing a whole stack of clothes (mostly Adam's because did y'all know that I married a man who needs to look at least semi nice at work which requires ironed clothes?)

Allow me to digress and tell a story. One night a long, long time ago when we were wee little college students, BFF Steph and I were sitting around a campfire with Adam and his BFF Adam. Steph and I were discussing how "all these losers guys we had met at school were getting business degrees. Ugh. Who wants to marry a business man? They travel a lot and probably lead whole other lives in these places they travel to." We probably went on and on about how that had happened in some Danielle Steele book we had read and this man had another wife in another town and blah blah blah. Then we said, "so what are y'all majoring in?" In unison both Adams said, "business." Well, sure. 

Fast forward roughly 8 years and here I am spending my Sunday afternoons ironing my business man of a husbands button up shirts and khakis. And let me go on record for saying that I absolutely wouldn't trade it for anything. Well. Except maybe the traveling part. I'm not a fan of the traveling, but it has nothing to do with him leading another life in another town...it's more about my very mature, not-at-all-paranoid belief that somebody is stalking me and going to try to break in and kill me while he is gone. 

Anyway, Reese wanted her own "sqwirter and rubber." All I had was fabric freshener and a meat tenderizer. After she ironed several items she put them all in the dryer "cause they need da be washed." Note to self: teach her the order of laundry before giving that chore over to her. 

After I got home from school Monday and saw all of the posts on Facebook of kids going to kindergarten and all that, I got on my knees and thanked the sweet Lord that my baby has a late birthday and is another 3 years away from real school. I'm convinced that school is when it all changes including their little chubby, dimpled knuckles and elbows. And, oh my heart, I can't bear the thought. (I would also include that school is where they get smart mouths, but she is only 2 and she already has one of those.) (It's a good thing Adam doesn't know how to comment on the blog because right here is where he would say that she got her smart mouth genetically from me. All I can say is there are 2 sides to that story and the other side comes directly from his 50% of her genetic make up.)

Here she was Monday morning on her first day back to "school." 6 o'clock came early for her especially considering she had gotten used to sleeping till 8:30.

And in other news happenings from this week, Uncle G took her for a stroll in her cozy coupe, and she had it just like she liked it- feet propped up telling him to "go fasta."

Last weekend she stood up on her chair and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Fwirst of all..." I can't even imagine where she heard that. 

One night Adam was reading a book to her before bed and he was trying to get her to say the colors on the page and read the words and all that. She huffed loudly and said, "Daddy, go ahead. Wead da book." She could not be bothered with all that knowing her colors business. 

So do y'all remember how much I hate needles? I talked way more than was necessary about it when I was pregnant with Reese. Since then I have gotten better. Not accepting of it, but better. This week I had to get the Rhogam shot. Reese went with me and has told everybody what a big girl I was when I got a shot. Now lays before me the final mountain in the pregnancy journey...the epidural. I did not have a pleasant experience the first time around, and I'm even more worried about it this time. What bothers me even more is that it is only 11 to 12 weeks away. That barely gives me enough time to worry myself into hysterics about it. 

She got a name and furniture all in one day.

 Let me go ahead and get this out there- we picked a name. Elynn Rae. Pronounced like Elin (I just didn't love spelling it that way- enunciate the E. Not like Ellen.) Seriously people, there was a moment or two I thought for sure we would divorce before the kid got a name. Then on Friday I saw the name Elin, brought it before (the-always-difficult-in-the-naming-department) husband, and right there in the McDonald's drive through the decision was made. I'm so glad that we were in such a prestigious location when our baby got a name. Now, of course, Big Daddy said he would continue to call her Peanut because he couldn't pronounce it. Saturday I made her a few things. Ray is my daddy's first name and also my middle name, so there is where that came from. And now that that is finalized, I feel like I can rest.

The furniture came in Thursday and my parents were kind enough to swing by and pick it up since they were in the Birmingham area. Which, really, was an all around blessing because Adam had to work which was going to leave me driving PeePaw's F250 in Birmingham. I think we can all agree that it probably wouldn't have ended well. (And after my sister filled it up with gasoline as opposed to the required diesel, I'm not sure how much more F250 trauma my daddy can stand.)(I just almost typed, "yeah, but we all know they are like a rock" then I came back to my senses and remembered that is Chevrolet, not Ford. I worry myself sometimes.)

Uncle G came by to help with the required heavy lifting. 

Reese could not wait for me to get the mattress in so place so she could play. 

She said, "Ma-ie, make my picture. I sweepin' in baby sisors bed."

Y'all, I made the last weekend of my summer a productive one. I even sorted through all of Reese's baby clothes and got them in the closet.

Reese's rekindled her love for her Nap Nanny. It's going to be an uphill battle keeping her off the baby products.

And then Sunday night I got back stage passes to meet these 2 live in person. It was a duet that I only wish I would have recorded. She always throws her head back when she sings. 

Then there was this....

That's a picture of my almost 3 year old doing homework. Yes, homework. Why you ask? Well because she declared at daycare that she didn't want to color her color sheet, so she had to do it at home. After she got a spanking last week at my parents house I told my mother, "you have no idea." And she said, "Oh, yes I do. I raised her mother." Point taken, MeeMaw. I was telling one of my co-workers about it today, and she very politely told me I was overreacting to the whole situation: "She's 2. If she doesn't want to color, don't make her color." Then I felt bad because I gave her this big lecture this morning and how she would be punished if she couldn't mind. And she will be punished, but really? She was right. She's 2. She didn't want to color. End of story. It doesn't put her on any toddler criminal list which was how I was starting to feel.

As of yesterday I am back at it. Meaning working. And when I say back at it, I mean that loosely because the internet was down yesterday and the copy machines didn't work. Welcome back to the world of public education. But let me say- this is going to be a much better year for me. I don't think I ever went into it here on the blog, but last year was terrible. Every teacher knows you have good years and bad years. I had 4 straight good years, so I was due a bad one. Nothing particularly happened that made it bad, it was a combination of teaching something I didn't love and having all standard diploma classes that took a tole on me. This year I am back in Career Tech and teaching a Financial Literacy class, and nothing makes my heart go pitter patter like teaching kids the dangers of a credit card and living beyond their means. So for the 3rd year in a row I have changed classrooms, but I'm happy to say that this is where I hope to stay. Plus I'm taking November through the end of January off for maternity leave, so that helps my feelings a lot.

Last thing: when referring to her swimming suit Reese says "swimmin' poot" and when talking about her thumb she says "fung." I'll be sad to see the day when she learns how to properly pronounce all her words. On second thought, if she has an ounce of her Big Daddy's DNA, she may never learn how to correctly pronounce words.