Dimple Bottom

When I look at this picture, I think of the Flo Rida song "Low" but instead of "Shawty got them apple bottom jeans" I sing,"Dessy got them dimple bottom buns and the boots with the fur." 

This is Odessa on her way to a bath. And no, I didn't give her a bowl cut. She got that hairdo all by herself.

Consider this a preview to my next Dessy memo. Hint: Poop. Lots and lots of poop. And a Tiger Grandma.

Memo to Emmy: 37.5 Months

Dear Ems,

If there were a quota on how many times I could say, "Emmy, I love you" I'd be WAAAAAAAAAY over my lifetime allotment already. I tell you that at least 20 times a day because you're always asking a random question or making a wry observation or answering me with some new phrase you picked up who knows where. The latest expressions in your vernacular include: "I guess." "Whatever." "Introhhhh....ducing...MOMMY! (Wherein you raise a napkin and then expect me to 'perform' something each time you lower the napkin and introduce me.)

The sass factor has grown exponentially. You didn't have a terrible twos but you have a fierce threes going on. Example: Each night you MUST tuck in every stuffed animal and Calico Critter and GOD FORBID anyone try to help you because you want to do it all by yourself so help you God.

Me: Come on Emmy, it's time for bed.

You: I'm not READY yet. *slowly picking up animals and artfully arranging them in their giant storage basket*

Me: Emmy, hurry up.

You: I AYAMMM! 

But I can't be mad because you are so anal about it that it reminds me of your dad. Como se dice "creature of habit?" Things must be completed in order and in a particular fashion. Every animal has a spot in the basket and they must be placed in sequentially and if Mommy tries to casually sneak one in, HELL WILL BE PAID.

Lambie, Froggy, Kitty, Marv, Tan Bunny, Aurora, Sara, Cooper, Olivia, Blue, and Foofa all have to be respected each and every night. Don't get me started on the ridiculous night time routines for Sister Dog, Brother Dog, Sister Monkey and Sister Hedgehog and their miniscule stuffed animals in your critter homes. I have since learned to get the process started long before I expect you to actually fall asleep.

Daddy has taught you to sound out some 3 letter words with your bath tub letters. It's pretty exciting. It's also exciting that at least someone is using that jetted tub every other night.

White Grandma says your dad had a piercing whine that sliced right through her. Looks like that gene was successfully passed on to you. Every now and then you get caught in a mindless cycle of "Mommy mommy mommyyyyyyyyyy" or Daddy daddy dadddddddyyyyyyyyyyy" just because you're bored and you think one or both of your parents should respond to your repeated, high pitched, whining of our names. And your tendency to repeat your requests 8 thousand times if you are not being acknowledged or if I can't drop everything and play picnic in your room. #toddlerscanbeannoying #duh

Everyone's been asking how you're doing with Dessy. Amazeballs would be the correct answer. At first you were pretty ambivalent; she really made very little impact on your day to day operations. But now when she cries, we will glance up and see a small toy playing music by her face or a balloon floating above her head. You drop off little things to soothe her, and then scoot off to watch her reaction. It's so sweet seeing your new responsible 'Big Sis' persona emerging.

You like to give Dessy her sleeping blanket and you push her swing ever so gently when it's out of batteries. I don't know how we lucked into your angelic demeanor but it is beyond endearing. Makes me love you even more. 

It's really fun to hear you talk about Dessy, "My sister is crying." Or when we joke about how she should eat some of your gummy bear vitamins, you love to laugh and say, "NO! She only drinks MILLLLK!" 

We suggested you share a bath with Dessy and your first reaction was to get a little teary and say, "But she can have her bath before me." But then you steeled yourself and when we asked again if you wanted to do a sister bath, you said, "OK." I think that sums it up. You are just a thoughtful and kind and gentle little person who impresses us and surprises us every day. 

We love you little punkin.

Your grateful Mama Panda and Papa Panda 

Emmy's Pictures 2

Some of Emmy's recent photos taken on her V-Tech.

This is Birdy Bird Bird Birthday Bird. Emmy came up with that name. He/She is actually a nameless parakeet we took home to babysit when preschool was out of session. He was a messy little bird who drove Romeo bonkers. 

Emmy's muse, Tofu, who gets photographed almost daily.

Who else? Moi.

And Emmy's cousins, some of her favorite people on earth. I like the fact both girls are in the frame and their heads are intact. I tell you, Emmy is already a better photographer than her father.

Shrimp Bruschetta

One of my favorites because it's so delicious and super easy to make. 

Just saute garlic and onions in a 1:1 mix of butter and olive oil, add shrimp, diced tomatoes, and a dash of red pepper flakes. You can sprinkle some salt and pepper on too if you like.

Then brush olive oil on both sides of some sourdough slices and toast them in the oven. Or, melt some butter in a pan, coat both sides of the bread and cook until the bread is crisp.

Top with shrimp mix and feel guilty about eating 10 more at 11pm after your guests have left. That was my Friday night. How was yours?

Let Him Eat Cake!

For The Good Doctor's birthday, we undertook the undertaking of cake making. I was going to just buy a Nothing Bundt cake because for some reason, he loves those. But then I saw this lemon pound cake recipe in Real Simple and it seemed pretty, uh, simple so I was inspired to ask my dad to bring over a bundt pan. Then I couldn't find my magazine so I Googled lemon cake to find the recipe and this Sunset magazine recipe for a berry lemon cake came up and then Emmy said she wanted to make that instead. 

That was the roundabout way I arrived at Marshall's to buy two 9 inch springform cake pans. And almost gave a store worker a heart attack. I have never operated a springform pan. So when I saw the buckle, I unfastened it, natch. That sent the 9 inch metal bottom KAH-RASHING to the linoleum floor where it spun and clanged and rolled 10 feet away before I could scoop it up. Heh heh. Don't mind me. Doo da doo da doo.

Emmy helped measure the flour and did a little whisking before she became consumed with touching the fine white powder on the baking sheet I used as a catch-all. Because I'm anal and when you bake with a 3 year old, anality requires that you try to catch every spill before it happens. 

Somehow she still became a little powderface during the process.

Emmy assisted again after the cakes were baked. She is responsible for 94% of the berry placement on this cake. Not too shabby.

We kept it a secret until Emmy said, "Can I show Daddy his birthday cake?" right before dinner and the Official Birthday Cake Reveal Time. She's only 3 so I am cutting her some slack. Plus I didn't tell her to keep it a secret. There's something creepy about telling toddlers that something should be "our little secret."

But Asian Grandpa should know better. That still didn't prevent HIM from spilling the beans during dinner when he said, "We still have to go home and eat cake." Thanks Dad. Good one.

The Good Doctor probably had his suspicions anyway since he spotted the original cake pan I bought and left sitting on the counter so I wouldn't forget to return it because I got a better deal at Marshalls. I saved $8 but spoiled my own surprise with my unconvincing story that "Uh, my dad bought it. He thought uh we might need it. Uh but we don't." *shuffling past The Good Doctor to run upstairs*

Alas, the cake photographed better than it actually tasted I think. The lemon zest frosting and berries = tasty. The cake = dense as a mother. And dry like the sands of the Sahara. Well, not that bad but it was not a moist, fluffy cake. It was more of a thick, Russian grandmother I survived cold winters in Siberia by making soup from bark cake. Edible but nowhere near as delicious as the beautiful HOMEMADE black tea and chocolate macarons our neighbor gave us. And I don't even like macarons but these were gorgeous and scrumptious.

Maybe I can book her for next year.

Meantime, Happy Birthday to my favorite husband! Thank you for eating your cake slice without asking for a glass of water.