Wordful Wednesday - Sayonara, sucker.

I hate to jinx this glorious situation, but I think it's finally safe to say that we've done away with the pacifier for good.

I told Dennis about all the talk of cutting part of the pacifier off with scissors (thanks again for all of your ideas and stories), and the moment we decided to dive in head first and DO THIS THING, he went to the kitchen and just flat out whacked that sucker in half. I was thinking more along the lines of a not-so-obvious cut in the end of it, but I didn't give him precise instructions, so...we just went with it.




She put it in her mouth, scrunched up her little eybrows, took it out and looked at us like, "Dude! WHAT the?!?"

This was followed by a series of putting it in, taking it out, putting it in, taking it out.

And then...oh, then all hell broke loose.

She utters this long string of thoughts, and we began to wonder if we pretty much made the biggest mistake ever...

"It's broke! What happened? Fix it! Daddy?!?! FIX it! What happened! Mommy? Kiss it!"

Because Daddy fixes things, and I kiss her owies. But, Daddy wasn't going to fix this, and no amount of kisses from me would make it all better.

BREAK. my. HEART!

Into a million little pieces.

I think it would be safe to say that Dennis and I were both fighting back tears.

You'd have thought we just told her the Wiggles were checked into rehab and wouldn't be released for 28 more days. She took it that hard.

The kid was devastated with a capital D. And her tears weren't part of a fit or a tantrum - it was pretty much just pure heartbreak.

You better believe we were questioning our decision. I'm freaking out thinking my child is going to end up in therapy someday because I gave her a broken pacifier. Please. Give me a break, right? But her big old alligator tears did that big of a number on me.

Once she calmed down later that night, she'd occasionally pick it up, put it in her mouth once, and then set it down and say, "It's broke." And that was that.

Getting her to bed was nothing short of a miracle, but she eventually went to sleep. And so did we.

And we all woke up the next morning and lived to tell the tale.

Since then, we've left some of the broken ones around the house and she just keeps telling us they're broken, but that's it. No tears. No sadness. As if it's no big thing.

The one significant change is that now, for breakfast each morning, she tells us matter-of-factly, "I need a cookie." Maybe she's dealing with it in her own special way like so many of us girls do. Cookies.

So, one really rough night, and a few days and at least an entire box of Thin Mints (we all remember the depths I'll go to for my Thin Mints, right?) later, we're no worse for the wear.

We've conquered one huge struggle, and now we just wait for the next one that's lurking it's ugly head around the corner, waiting to pounce on us.

But, I've got a box of Thin Mints hidden in the freezer, so we are good to go, people. Good to GO.

(This post is a part of Wordful Wednesdays, hosted by Angie at 7 Clown Circus.)

Because those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days of early motherhood eventually become a thing of the past, just like sleep and your sanity.

When Kaylee was 2 weeks old or 2 months old, or heck - even 6 months old...when I was knee deep in my, "Really? I thought I could do this? I actually thought I was cut out to be a mom? When will I ever sleep again? I will never be able to function as a normal adult again - EVER." days...

...I wish back then I'd had a video clip of the future - a video clip of tonight - to play for myself on those early days that were filled with so much frustration. Those days when I couldn't look at Dennis without snapping something mean back at him, even if he hadn't said anything.

Tonight - I sat back and watched as my baby played with my mom and my dad. I just sat there and took it all in and watched in amazement at where we are at in our lives now.

I just welled up with pride at the things she's doing - talking in these cute little toddler sentences, pushing her dolls all over the house in a cardboard box, telling them, "Ready? Set? GO!" and then "All done!" when she's tired, putting together puzzles and coloring and painting, and showing affection - actually asking for hugs and "noses" (Eskimo kisses).

My once helpless skinny mini baby who just gurgled, smiled, ate, farted and crapped her pants all day is turning into this tiny little person with an extremely strong personality who occasionally makes an angry face at me while yelling garbled words that I can only guess to be some form of toddler profanity invented by another baby genius somewhere else in the world who passed it on to toddlers everywhere. Maybe they learn these toddler swear words (i.e. "MamaYOWado-doYOWnabuggaYOW!") by playing their Elmo DVD's backwards or something when we're not looking. I have no idea.

Anyway - to get back to my point - a night like tonight would have been a light at the end of the tunnel for me during those first few months when I battled the worst part of my depression. Maybe if I'd been able to see what it would be like - what our life would turn into - maybe if I'd seen that someday I would get the sparkle back in my eyes and I would experience joy and pride and contentment, that I would be able to laugh again - maybe it would have been a little easier.

Maybe I would have actually believed that it really would get better.

But, I didn't have a snapshot of my future, and I still turned out okay. And so did my kiddo.

Because, as hard as that time was, it ended.

The really, really horrendously sleepless nights and constant crankiness and persistent funk ended.

And if that's where you're at, yours will end, too. You'll reach a day where you look back, and the hard times won't seem quite so harsh. And it will be because you're strong and you're going to make it through. Even though it seems like the struggles of life right after a baby will never get better, they can - and they will.

Eventually, you'll be able to sleep again, you'll be able to laugh and to feel like yourself. There are different ways of getting to that place, but if you're willing to do what you need to do to take care of yourself, you'll get there.

And once you do, you'll wake up the next morning to pick Ranch dressing out of your kid's hair from the night before, but only after you stub your toe on a spare Mr. Potato head ear, arm, or hat. Then you'll proceed to eat a breakfast consisting of either Cheerios that went soggy because your kid took a monster dump right after you poured the milk, or once-delectable-looking scrambled eggs that are now cold because there was a toddler breakdown when the extremely overplayed Barney DVD began to skip.

You will then walk to the bathroom, and you'll imagine how amazing a 25 minute shower would be. You'll skip the shower because - well, who are we kidding? Do you really need an excuse to skip a shower? (You're a mom now - put in a headband and a ponytail and call it good.) You'll count to 10 v-e-r-y slowly, and then you'll jump right back into the chaos.

Because you are someone's mom. And even though it may not seem like what you signed up for in the first place, in so many ways, it's turned out to be even better.

The first shiner.

Well, my little sugar plum got her first shiner.

She took a nosedive off my bed and face planted it on my nightstand. A nasty, ugly purple bruise appeared almost instantly on her little cheek, and it just kills me to see it.

She cried for a short bit and then she was over it. Didn't break any skin inside or outside her mouth, and her teeth are just fine.

But if this was so hard, how will I deal with it if she ever breaks a bone?

I have a feeling I'm headed into uncharted territory with my now climbing, running, jumping, energetic and fiesty little firecracker.

Anyone know where I can buy bubble wrap in bulk?

Oh, the weather outside is frightful...

And I wish the fire inside was delightful, but we don't have a fireplace, so I'll settle for the heat brought to us by our lovely and oh-so-attractive propane tank. Ahhh...Sweet Lady Propane (that's for all you King of the Hill fans...)

Today is one of those ideal days that I usually only dream about.

Dennis decided to take a personal day to spend with Kaylee and I - what a guy, right?

It has been SO lovely.

We had planned on going into town so Kaylee and I could go to our exercise class, but then we realized we were in the middle of a winter storm warning that lasts until noon tomorrow. So, it took us about - oh, 5 seconds to decide we'd park our little booties at home for the day.

I looked outside and the ground was wet from rain, and the skies were nothing but gray.

I sat and hoped for lots of snow.

And then it came.

We've been sitting at home, relaxing, watching these big huge FAT snowflakes fall outside our window, and I couldn't think of a better way to spend a day with my family.

No plans. No agendas. Just being together. Being warm and cozy in our little house while the snow falls outside. (Kaylee keeps looking outside at the snow falling and yelling, "Noisy! Noisy!" Not quite sure what that's all about...)

It's days like this when simplicity reigns. I feel at peace. I feel content, and I am oh-so-thankful for all that we've been given.

Now, time to bust out some Frank Sinatra and Beyonce Christmas tunes while I dig out the Christmas decorations and toss back a mug of chai. Mmmmm...