This morning, she came storming through the apartment like she had a herd of wild boar behind her.
"I'll get the lights for you, Mama," she said, voice full of self-assurance.
It took a few nudges from me, but she eventually went in her room and took off her pull-up to start getting dressed.
"What do I do with this?" she yelled, as if we haven't thrown it away every other morning.
"Throw it in the garbage!" I hollered back.
With the same air of confidence, and the sound of loud, proud toddler footsteps, she marched into the kitchen, pants-less. About 3 feet away from the garbage, she threw the pull-up, making a perfect basket, shrugged her shoulders, said, "Got it," turned around, and marched back to her bedroom to finish getting ready. Mark and I lost it. Is this really our 2-year-old?
A few minutes later, she got "stuck" in her bedroom (she couldn't turn the doorknob all the way), and when I rushed to her rescue, she gave me a long scolding, "Mama. I was stuck in here. You were in the kitchen, and you didn't even hear me. I was very sad and scared."
I tried not to laugh but beamed with pride (she's articulating her feelings!!) as I apologized to her and told her that, if I had to, I would cut a triangle in the door to get her. She trusted this was true, because I've done it before (full story and pics here). There were a few other stalling moments, but she got ready on her own and was very proud of herself.
We were still about 10 minutes late out the door. You can blame me for that, though, and my "just 5 more minutes, Mark!!" attitude this morning as I tried to force myself out of bed.
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After Mark got out the door with Elle, I made my way to work. I was early! Woohoo!! But as I was driving, at a particularly tricky intersection, a beautiful golden retriever darted out of the bushes and in front of my car. I slammed on my brakes. She looked up at me expectantly. She slowly moved back to the sidewalk, sat down, and watched me drive past.
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| Not my pic, but this is what she looked like! Source: http://mrg.bz/GB7ZCS |
I pulled over and walked back to greet her. She seemed scared of me at first, so I sat down, and she came over to see me. Then she happily mauled me with hugs and kisses. Oh, I miss having a dog. I snuggled with her a bit.
"Can you show me where you live?" I asked her.
She walked back into the road.
"No, no, come here!" I said and patted my leg.
She nodded toward the other side of the road.
"You want me to come with you?" I asked her.
She took a few steps forward, then looked back at me, as if to say, "Hey Idiot, come on!"
Okay, I followed her, my tongue wagging too. One of my co-workers drove by and stopped to ask if everything was alright. I told her what was going on and felt secure knowing that she knew where I was, you know, just in case I returned the dog to a golden-retriver-owning serial killer. "Gah, Gretch, turn off the Crime-TV narrative already..." I said to myself. I was just being neighborly. Sure, people have been killed by being neighborly, but I'm being smart and safe.
And sure enough, that smart dog led me right to her house and sat down at the bottom of the porch steps to wait while I knocked on the door. She had that big, goofy, tongue-hanging-out dog smile on her face. And I was all, "What's wrong, girl? Is little Timmy stuck in a well?"
A man came to the door, looking tired. I asked if this was his dog. He seemed hesitant to say yes (ha!), but he explained that he and his wife were sick (excuse me while I back away from your door a bit) and that he usually watches the dog when she's out in the yard. He apologized.
No judgment here. "I just didn't want her to get hit," I tried to sound cheery and non-judgmental. The dog darted past me and into the house. I probably should have asked if they needed anything. Maybe that dog brought me to that house for a reason, and I missed a huge opportunity to fulfill some greater purpose, but I just smiled and went on my way, content that I had done a good deed for the day.
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And I reeeeallly wanted to blog about doodling. Am I really going to fit 3 blog posts in 1 today? Why not? I had intended to show you my process for art journaling, to inspire you to do it as well, because it's so easy, relaxing, and fun, and it's helping me live stress-free in the evenings...BUT, I just spent the entire evening after E was in bed eating Ghirardelli brownies that she had picked out at the grocery store, drinking iced milk, and DRAWING (instead of creating a mini tutorial). It was so liberating. I've been (literally) biking my butt off and eating well, so I ate that snack with little guilt and lots of chocolate-induced joy.
The drawings weren't perfect. I experimented with drawing human figures (which I find so hard), but I can keep practicing. Nothing had to be perfect. It was just play time, but play time that resulted in a "finished" product -- just the act of filling a sketchbook. I had pics to share on Instagram, and the #doodle and #ymisdoodle campaigns have brought in a handful of new followers. Happiness! More to come!
If you've made it this far, congratulations! I'm wordy today. Thanks, as always, for reading!
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