All Hallows Eve (or, "Happy Ween!!")

So a few weeks back my little family hit up our local Spirit Store to check out outdoor decor options for my 3rd favorite holiday (after Christmas and ITLAPD, of course).  We let HD wander around, and she was instantly drawn to the kids costume section.  She promptly shunned all things princess, waved a quick hello to Elmo, and then shrieked "DEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!" at the top of her lungs.  HD had stumbled across a costume for her hero, DJ Lance Rock.  Hubs and I glanced at one another and shrugged.  At least she's not obsessed with the bossy pants of toddler TV, Dora the Explorer.

You know those cardboard inserts in store costume packing that have a picture of the character to advertise the costume?  Well, over the next two weeks, our daughter has dragged that thing around the house in her wake, gleefully showing anyone who will pay attention her "Dee" and the "Baby Dee" (the insert has a photo of the real DJ Lance Rock as well as one of a kid in the costume).  She kisses it.  She gets upset when she can't find it.  If we're not careful here, we're moving into golden calf territory.

Stuffing your face is considered proper 'Ween etiquette.

Luckily, Halloween came yesterday, and she had a real excuse to finally wear her polyester orange jumpsuit.  When I put it on her in the morning, the kid was fully aware that she was finally one with her idol.  She would glimpse herself in the mirror, point at her reflection, and whisper "Baby Dee" in tones that indicate she was well aware of the awesomenss of her outfit.  She kept the hat on at all times, but drew a firm line against wearing the GINORMOUS black nerd glasses.  I can't blame her.  Those things are monstrous even on a full size man face like Hubs's, a total fashion faux pas.  Anyway, behold the glory:

DJ HD Rock admits that tangerine is truly her signature color.

That night, we made the Trick-or-Treating rounds.  When she got scared of our neighbor's singing Frankenstein doll, we convinced her it was a frog ("Oh.  Hi, fog").  She refused to say trick or treat, but managed to say "oooooh" in a very appreciative manner anytime she was offered candy ("kangy, mmmm"), followed by a lovely sign language thank you/blowing kiss.  Kid adored being outside at night, and nommed happily on a 3 Musketeers bar.  She even managed to learn to say "Happy Ween!"  Tantrums were averted, the costume remained in one piece (hers did anyway; my pirate sword broke, curses!), and she got to bed at the standard time despite the constant ringing of our doorbell.  All in all, a success!

Kid wasn't scared on entering mouth of the beast -- she has Gabba power to protect her.

"Kangy, mmmm" *blows kiss/thank you*

Huge thanks to the lovely people of our neighborhood, who were so nice to our kid.  And Hubs and I totally appreciate the candy -- we know none of you were fooled by our 16 month old front.  The evening was finished up with pumpkin beer, mini Snickers bars, and the Slutty Pumpkin.  Honestly?  I infinitely prefer this to the days of Halloween parties in bars, dressed like Joel from Risky Business.  Although maybe next year I dig out that old costume in attempt to teach HD the splendor that is Bob Seger.

Pastimes of Yore ( or, "I Need a Hobby")

The weather's been gorgeous lately, so the daughter went for a romp the last weekend in a cold park fountain.  Watching HD's joyful abandon over running in gushing water...it makes my heart sing.  And I'll be honest, it also makes me a wee jealous.  It reminds me of that part in Knocked Up when Paul Rudd's character is watching his kids in the park, and he comments that he wished he enjoyed anything as much as his kids enjoy bubbles.  He obviously loves his kids, but he knows he needs something in his life that's just his own.

So Hubs and I have instituted taking every other Saturday morning off.  One of us spends quality time with HD, and the other one gets to do whatever he/she wants (sleep, errands, workout, laze about and watch tv).  Today's my morning off -- I'm thinking this could could be the perfect time to start dusting off old hobbies, or cultivate a new one.

A Mare Over a Schooner (or, "Even Pirates Say 'Wheeee!'")

My bro and I used to ride this rocking horse when we were kids.  I'm not the biggest advocate of saving everything from childhood, but I'm super glad that my HD has this thing (thanks heaps to my sentimental Daddy!).  Apparently, so is she:

Apologies for the tiny video; it's from Hubs's iPhone.  Oh, and that little sound byte at the end there?  HD is blowing her lips out ("ppppllllllltttttpppp") which is her horse sound.  I mean, obviously.

But seriously, pirates love horses as much as cowboys love boats.  Just ask Lyle Lovett.

Jargon o' the Seas (or, "HD Talking")

We have video!  Here's a tidbit of showing off some of her verbal skills, as well as her keen fashion sense:

Our kid is a complete chatterbox.  Like lots of little kids, she'll have entire one-sided conversations of gobble-degook with occasional real words thrown in.  I'd say it's been more fun than frustrating trying to decipher her meaning.  Especially when she cracks herself up learning a new word:

A small sampling of words to date:

puppy
Daddy
Mama
"mommy" = edamame (HD gets really confused when people refer to me as "mommy" -- to her, that means "tasty little soy bean" not "lady who provides for me")
dirt
"nana" = banana
apple
"butta-bye" = butterfly and/or peanut butter (unless my kid keeps requesting moths spread on crackers...hm)
"ca-kah" = cracker or bread
vegetable (this one actually sounds like the real word, which slays me)
turtle
"fee"  = fish
"bea" = bear
"Happy" = Harper

Avast! It Be International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

All abandon hope; ye who enter here.  Me first mate will celebrate by shooting daggers with her eyes. Now dance the hornpipe smartly, me beauties!  OR ELSE.

Fire on Deck (or, "Coolest Toy Ever")

My super duper aunt and uncle got HD the coolest gift ever last Christmas.  A full-on vintage style metal fire truck for her to ride around, complete with bicycle pedals, clanging bell with pulley, and detachable mini wooden ladders.  Seriously amazing -- it's the kind of thing you see in photos of little kids in the 1940s.  Only problem was that, at age 6 months, it was a tad beyond her capabilities at the time (despite the fact that HD is devastatingly advanced and mature for her age, naturally).

It's so very shiny.

But this past weekend to celebrate her 15 month birthaversary, we busted it out.

And it was GLORIOUS.  My girl is so on board with tools and rescue missions.  Make-a me proud!

HD got a lesson in wrench-handling from Daddy

Kid is totally ready to save the day

Piratical Nonsense (or, "Grateful")

Ah, the eyelashes

I think everyone has moments of wishing that you lived somewhere else, even for a bit.  We all fantasize about visiting a particular place and (definitely) glamorize said place.  Don't you have places or times or situations that you love to inhabit again and again in books, movies, or just your imagination?  [Me?  Pirating and Caribbean port towns aside, I am totally into Regency period England, modern-day New Orleans, and NYC circa 1980 when punk was on the way out and new wave was on the rise.  And that's just a drop in the bucket.]

And then it occurs to you -- wow, the people of New Orleans have no idea that I find their world so compelling.  I don't think any average citizen of NOLA (still dealing with Katrina and oil spill aftermath) is currently wondering if some random woman out in California is slowly becoming entranced by his city's history/music/food and planning a future visit.  The everyday culture of his world is simply a given, along with the problems that go with it.  Nothing enviable about that.  Why would someone removed from that reality fantasize about it?

Enraptured by Yo Gabba Gabba

So of course it's even more surreal when you realize that there's a flip side to that coin.  What if I'm the one inhabiting a world that someone fantisizes about?  What if someone is thinking longingly, "Man, I wish I was married to my dead sexy best friend; had a crazy, brilliant, HEALTHY, funny little girl; worked a steady job; lived in a safe, (relatively) clean home; and was still able to occasionally see awesome friends and family...".  When I think of it in that context, I realize that the mortgage, the commute, the bouts of teething and 1000 other little stresses are not as all-consuming as I sometimes make them out to be.  That I am one insanely lucky pirate.  



Enjoying one of the last bottles before we give 'em up for good!



Thoughts like that are also what motivate me to start saying nightly prayers with HD.  I hope that Hubs and I are able to instill in her a sense of gratitude for all we're given, as well as a good work ethic to try and keep it.   



Eating "cack-ahs" (crackers) and "butta-butta bye" (peanut butter, but it also means butterfly?)



Unfolded laundry aside, I heart this pic.  HD sorta looks like a Beatle

Blocks and Rowdy, HD's partner-in-crime