Happy Birthday Brynn!

Beautiful baby Brynn turned 1 on April 2 - and Peyton was honored to be a part of the celebration. Brynn's mom and dad are neighbors of ours. It's been a lot of fun watching these two girls grow up -- hitting all of their milestones one right after the other.

Brynn was decked out in the most adorable Burberry dress for her big day. Peyton tried to keep up - wearing a teal tulle skirt and matching shirt. Brynn treated her guests to hamburgers, hot dogs, awesome guacamole (even by these picky guacamole eaters' standards), and of course, birthday cake! Happy first birthday Brynnie!!

"Cool's not a look, Daddy. It's an attitude."

Baby cakes.

Cake demolition.

"Um, what do you mean I'm not the center of attention?!? That's preposterous!"

"Yum, yum yummy! Cake is good!"

"PLEASE!!! More cake!"

"Oooh, the guac ain't bad either."

"See you suckaz next year."

Emma Turns Six!!

I'm hopelessly behind on uploading pictures from our camera. So for the three of you who follow this blog, your email alerts are about to be flooded.

Last month, Peyton was amongst the lucky ones to make the prestigious invite list to Emma's birthday party. It was her (and my) first trip to Chuck E Cheese. And as evidenced by the perma-grin on her face, I think she loved it! Happy (belated) birthday Emma! Thanks so much for having us at your party!

Cage dancing.

"School buses are for NERDS!"

"Oh, hi, Daddy. I didn't realize you were on the bus, too...NERD!!!"

"Hi, Amber. Fancy meeting you here."

"Smell ya later, Amber. Pizza's ready and the animal band is playing!"

"Chuck E Cheese is da bomb!!!"

A Girl Can Never Have Too Many...

SHOES!

She's got 15 pairs here - with several more that didn't make the cut. I will admit that sometimes I buy the shoes first, and find an outfit to match second (the green converse are a perfect example).

Monkey Business

In an effort to save ourselves from the frigid temperatures of the Fairfax County Parks and Rec indoor pool for a few more months, we opted to enroll Princess Peyton in an indoor play class instead of swim class this winter/spring (she'll get her pool time in a few months when you can't see icebergs floating in the pool).

The 45 minute class has little instruction. It's more of "let your kid run amok and go completely bananas on squishy toys but you don't have to get angry because it's not your furniture" for 45 minutes. Although she was a little timid at first (she's one of the smallest ones in the class), she quickly warmed up to the other kids and more importantly, the bright, colorful blocks, slides, and ball pit.

"I'm not so sure about this, guys. Do you think those crazy big boys can spot me hiding behind these blocks?"

"It's no swim class, that's for sure. But, it is pretty cool to climb all over this stuff."

"I picked this one out just for you, Mommy."

At the end of the class, the "teacher" gathers all the children in a circle and passes out instruments for sing-a-long time. Always wanting to be the center of attention, Peyton situated herself in the smack dab middle of the circle, while every other kid sat dutifully on his or her parent's lap.

"Sitting on a lap is for nerds."

"Seriously, nerds."

Is This a Chunnel or a Tunnel?

After more than two months of being terrified of her tunnels (she got two for her birthday), Peyton finally caught on to how fun it is to crawl through the colorful nylon contraption.

A Creature of Habit

Martin and I were slightly (okay, incredibly) obsessed with Peyton's sleeping habits from day one. We read "Healthy Sleep Habits Happy Child" (AKA "Bad Sleep Habits Mean You're a Bad Parent") cover to cover multiple times and quickly became sticklers for scheduled nap times, sleeping in her crib, and most importantly, establishing a bed time routine.

The routine started pretty early on, and was choreographed in perfect fashion. It starts at 6:30 with dinner in her highchair. Once finished at around 7:00 (she now signs "all done"), we relocate to the parlour for 20-30 minutes in front of the TV. Peyton watches sign language or Baby Einstein, or her favorite movie, Marmaduke. At 7:30, we head upstairs for her bath. We say the same words, do the same signs, and sing the same songs. It starts with a lively rendition of the Three Amigos classic "My Little Buttercup" while "getting naked" before her bath. As she exits her bath, she "shake shake shake her booty" before looking at herself in the mirror to another fan favorite and made-up song, "who's that monkey in the mirror." Upon entering her room, we put on lotion (every girl needs her lotion), a diaper, then sing "The Jammie Shuffle" while putting on her PJ's. Next, it's time for a quick hair brushing. Then, whoever's turn it is to put her to sleep (Martin and I trade off every other night) settles into the rocking chair with Peyton. The scorned parent kisses her goodnight and says "great job today." Peyton then drinks a (now) sippy cup of milk, brushes her teeth, and listens to a story. Then "it's time to turn out the light and say goodnight."

Peyton enjoys her last twenty minutes before bed watching sign language, eating sticks, and hanging out in her personalized chair.

This routine has worked wonders. Peyton knows when it's bedtime. And she never fights us. She closes her eyes and goes to sleep. Even when we're traveling and in a strange location, we follow the same structure -- and even though she may be apprehensive about her location, she knows it's time to go to sleep. It's a godsend.

BUT. Be careful what you wish for. Peyton knows the routine so well that tonight, when we strayed from it ever so slightly, she lost her ever-loving mind. PK has been sick since Tuesday. And while we thought she was on the mend, this afternoon saw a turn for the worse. During dinner (which she refused to eat), she had an unfortunate butt explosion. It was about 7:10 and our precious angel felt like garbage, was exhausted, and as just plain miserable. So Martin and I made the executive decision that we would forgo the approximately 20 minutes of post-dinner TV time and instead take her upstairs, clean her diaper, and put her immediately in the bath.

We did the routine. We sang the songs. We said goodnight.

But Peyton wasn't having it. She was inconsolable. She refused her milk. She wailed. She was reaching for the door. She wanted out of her room. After about 30 minutes of trying everything to calm her down and making sure nothing was really wrong with her (taking temperature, checking ears for infection, etc.), I gave in and brought her downstairs. As we got to the parlour, Peyton quickly spotted her favorite-movie-in-the-world-and-favorite-pre-bed-movie-especially-when-I'm-feeling-sick-and-just-want-to-zone-out-on-a-non-sign-language-nerd-learning movie, "Marmaduke," still playing on TV, and she quieted instantly. And so we sat for 10 minutes, watching the end of the movie.

Mesmerized by Marmaduke.

Now calm, I took her upstairs, Martin kissed her goodnight, and we turned out the light. She fell asleep instantly. Peyton had previously refused to fall asleep because she felt slighted. She wanted her last minutes of TV, and by God she was going to get it.

Tomorrow, we stick to the routine.

I Want My Baby Back

I have no cute pictures to post or awe inducing stories about Peyton's antics to recant. The funk has taken over our house, and despite our attempts to evict it, it stays. Martin was the first victim, complaining of a sore throat and the snots last weekend. I fell next, losing my voice, aching, and coughing. But the worst hit was poor little PK. Since Tuesday she's been down for the count. No daycare (which means Mom and Dad are trading staying at home, thus aggravating our employers even more), no cute outfits (although she can rock her monkey pj's like the best of 'em), no playground, no nothing. Just a barrage of fevers, vomit, coughs, and crankiness. She won't eat, and is overall miserable. Which makes us miserable. The doctor says it's "just a virus" and other than waiting it out, there's not much we can do. Grrrr.