Wednesday, December 1, 2010

She'll Be Fine.

Stella is definitely the second child. And she is treated like the second child. And she is blogged about like the second child. And since I have already declared this blog, Chloe and Stella's Baby Book, I can tell you that I have about 30% of Chloe's milestones posted in this so-called baby book, and about 5% Stella's milestones documented on this mess-of-a-thing. I'm scared to think what will happen if we have another baby. You'll probably never even know...

I was watching Stella play this morning and I had to laugh at her playtime circumstances. Definitely a second child situation was happening. A few points of how this picture depicts a second child playtime scenario, if you will:

1. She was playing right by the edge of the fireplace. Mind you, it was not lit (only because I don't know how), but the edge of that thing is sharp. And where was I? Miles away from her. Admiring her cuteness. Not even thinking about the danger that lurked close by.

2. Now I don't really know what this thing is. It had a wire sticking out of it at one point. But Jason, in what I can only describe as "a fit of insanity" pushed the cable in (which left this gaping hole), and then proceeded to stick the end of a plastic ice cream cone in it, which in turn made the girls laugh hysterically. I walked upon this "fit of insanity" and was a little upset. At first I thought it was a real ice cream cone and yelled "what a waste of ice cream" but then saw that it was a plastic ice cream cone. Shoved into the wall. And the girls were laughing hysterically. And then they began shoving the ice cream cone into the wall. And then I said, because I was the only lucid person at this point, "isn't that a fire hazard?" No one answered me. The crazies just kept at it. I had to walk away.

3. She is oh-so-close to the electrical outlet. What can I say? At least they're covered. They might not have been before the picture was taken, but they also could've been too. Or maybe I just don't want anyone who reads this blog to have me reported, or worse yet, think I'm a bad mom, and so I covered them for the photo op. You'll never know. And I'll never tell. But I'm sure you can deduce from my ramblings exactly what happened.

-Point to be made about points 1, 2 and 3. Chloe never would've have been in the situation I call "The Trifecta of Danger". At any moment poor, little Stella could've stuck her finger in the electrical socket, while shoving a plastic ice cream cone into that other thing, and for the finale, fall against the fire place. But my poor second child was left there to fend for herself. And I didn't even think twice about it. And what was she left to play with?

4. An old formula can. I don't even know if it had been washed out or properly sterilized, but she was having a ball with it. Chloe was only given age appropriate toys that would advance her developmentally, but Stella was left with what might be presumed of as a piece of trash.


She is definitely the second child, and my mantra for her is "she'll be fine." If you're ever around us, and you see her with an entire cracker in her mouth, while starting in on a cookie, and you ask if she's okay. I'll give her a once over, look you dead in the eye, do some silly motion with my hands and say, "she's fine."

But this little girl is more than just fine. She is the apple of my eye. And she has made my heart stretch and grow in ways that I never would've imagined. And while I may not have every moment documented here, or anywhere else for that matter, I've got them all right where they belong. Inside this crazy head of mine.

Which makes me think that I should go ahead and write them down before I go off the deep end.

We love you, Stella Elizabeth.


Dara said...

Cora's favorite toy is an empty wipes bag. Is that bad?

RitaKay said...

Such a cutey! I was last of 5 kids. Think mom had many photos or any of my baby stuff for me like she did the eldest? Not on your life. All that just to say that it's normal and she will be fine. Not to worry. She just might complain a little when she gets older.