Emmy's Pictures

We got Emmy this camera for Christmas. We even let her open it. But then I we saw the deluge of toys she received and so I we conveniently swiped the camera and re-wrapped it gave it to her again, for her 3rd birthday. I know, I'm the classiest mom on the block. Whatevs. She's got the attention span of a hamster. Actually, that's not true. She is quite attentive and has an impressive memory. But lucky for us, she's not a materialistic hoarder so she didn't notice that the camera she received for Christmas was the same one she re-received for her jankity birthday that we haven't yet properly celebrated because we're waiting for our backyard to be transformed from an arid weedpatch into something you can serve drinks on without fear of stepping on a piece of Romeo dook hidden in 3 foot tall weeds. 

Either she didn't notice my tacky re-gifting or she's too polite to tell me I'm a terrible mom who re-gifts her gifts to her daughter. She's quite sensitive like that.

Anyway, there are few things as cute as hearing the exaggerated sound effect of a camera shutter and turning around and seeing Emmy holding up her camera and snapping a photo of something. Most often, Tofu. The chihuhua is her muse. Emmy: "I'm going to take a picture of Tofu every day!" Tofu: *FML*

Actually, Emmy is not horrible. She gives her father a definite run for his money when it comes to shot composition. And 1 out of every 8 or 10 pictures is a gem.

Like this one of Dessy:

Or this one of our friend's cavapoo Astro.

They're a little blurry but this is only a 1.3 megapixel camera and the shutter speed is super slow. But out of the 200 or so photos she's taken so far, about 30 are decent. More to come. I will spare you from the many blurred pictures of our rug, or the extreme close ups of a pillow. I can't promise there won't be nostril shots of The Good Doctor though. 

Amazon Calico Critters

So there's these things. You may have heard of them. Unless you're one of my Facebook friends or Twitter followers. Then only four of you will actually know what I'm talking about. 

Calico Critters.

I crowdsourced to find out if these were really worth the investment, but all I got were crickets chirping. Exactly four people responded to my query about these little fuzz covered animals that live in the animal equivalent of Silicon Valley. Read: expensive and tiny real estate.

Calico Critters are teeny and adorable animal families who live a rich country lifestyle that includes villas, townhomes, treehouses, manors and a vast array of clothing, furniture, cars, amusement parks, etc. Don't stay on the website too long. There is something strangely hypnotic about the music and the neverending pathway. YOU WILL NEVER GET OUT.

In doing my research for what to tell Santa to get Emmy this year, I've become somewhat of a Calico Critter expert. I didn't read a single book about child birth but dagnabbit ask me about the Furbanks family of squirrels or the Wilder panda family and you'll wish you never started down that path.

Anyway, The Good Doctor and I were debating the merits of the Country Tree House (with its mango monkeys, hot tub, slide and pagoda) vs. the Cloverleaf Manor (with a palatial 9 room spread, chandelier, and balcony.) That was Monday. The Good Doctor found the treehouse for 119.99 on Amazon.com. Pretty huge since it sells for 179.99 to 199.99 on Toys R Us, Target, and at local toy stores.

But analysis paralysis had us in its grips. Do we go for the giant mansion or the quirky treehouse? We finally decided that because most of Emmy's pretend play involves animals going to the park and to pre-school, the treehouse would be more fun. Besides, in reading dozens of reviews about these things, decorating the manor was going to be a biatch. I don't have 9 rooms of furniture in my real home, and I'll be damned if I have to spend my weekends making teeny curtains out of toothpicks and scraps of fabric for 18 windows. 

Log onto Amazon on Wednesday and WTF, the damn treehouse is now 179.99. FIFTY dollars more. 

Long story short, we called Amazon to see if there was any way to get the original price. First person put us on hold a bunch and said there wasn't anything they could do to offer that sale price.

It was a sucky feeling, but it was our fault for not pulling the purchase trigger. But, as I learned way back when with my dad's DMV carpool sticker experience, when at first you don't succeed, call back at least one more time. You never know if you just got a customer service rep who was in a bad mood, inexperienced, unhelpful, or just unauthorized to make any decisions. 

So The Good Doctor called Amazon customer service again and this time, Valerie answered. He explained that we shouldn't have waited but we didn't realize the price was going to go up 50 bucks in two days. And just like that, Valerie put a $50 promotional discount on the account that we could use toward the house. 

NGUYENING! That is primo customer service. Amazon gets the purchase at the same price they first offered, so there's no additional sweat off their backs. Plus they get SUPER happy customers who will now blow even more of our hard earned money on tiny fuzz covered figurines and accessories. 

Toddler Twilight Zone

6:40PM: I step into the house after a long day that involved driving home in rush hour traffic from a shoot in Novato. First thing I hear from Asian Grandma as I'm bending down to pet the dogs and take off my boots, "Watch out! Watch out! Don't step in the barf! Emmy's in here. She barfed!"

The barf is 15 steps away from me in the dining room, a nice chunky pool of chicken soft taco.

Emmy is sniffling in the bathroom, with barf on her shirt. She gets really emotional any time she throws up, probably because she feels pretty crappy, but also because she hates messy bodily functions. I carry Emmy to her room to strip her down and wipe off her chest, while Asian Grandma starts scooping up the barf puddle. As the Wonderpets say, What's gonna work? Teamwork! I look down onto Emmy's bed and see two chihuahua sized turds right ON TOP of her comforter. 

I yell, "Someone pooped in here!" My mom goes ballistic because she lets these dogs out 800 times a day. It's either Tofu or Coco. More likely the latter. Coco will be sequestered in our next house. She can no longer be trusted because she's a territorial crotchety biatch and she's getting worse in her old age. The cuteness is not enough to allow her free kibble reign anymore. 

7PM: The Good Doctor comes home, and we're getting Emmy settled and eating some Ritz crackers with jam. . I feed the dogs and see out of the corner of my eye ANOTHER double turd. This time, it's still steaming, right in the middle of the living room. On the hardwood. What is going on right now? Our dogs are not hardwood poopers. With the exception of Coco, they prefer grassy outdoors, or their designated pee pads, or the occasional soft fluffy piece of carpet. If they're going to poop inside, their motto is: the harder to clean, the better. 

More paper towels and bleach wipes. I plan to buy some Clorox stock soon.

7:30PM: Washing Emmy's barfy clothes and pooped on comforter. Meanwhile she's A-OK. She seems perfectly happy, no signs of malaise. We play her the Maroon Five, prego Christina Aguilera "Moves like Jagger" clip from the AMA's that we DVR'd last night for her to dance to. She definitely has the moves like Jagger.

7:45PM: The night time routine continues. We give her a bath, she drinks a little milk, brushes her teeth, and goes to say goodnight to Daddy. The milk was a bad idea.

9PM: 30 seconds after climbing onto Daddy's lap to say she's heading to her "big girl" bed, she barfs all over his stomach. And starts wailing. "WAAAHHHH!" Barf. "WAAAHHHH!" Barf. Repeat about 8 times. We catch about 1/17th of the barf in a wastebasket. Turns out toddlers don't like to vomit into a container. We finally figure out we should put a towel down to catch her barf. By then, she's just spitting up cottage cheese-like bits. Too little too late. 

9:20PM: The Good Doctor is covered in sour smelling curdled milk that is now seeping through his shirt onto his skin and down his sides onto our bed. Would've been hilarious if Emmy wasn't feeling so bad. More wipes, another mini bath, a change of clothes, and a second round of teeth brushing.

10PM: She seems better, and falls asleep exhausted after her usual 3 stories. I stay with her until I can hear her soft breaths and feel her little twitchy hands relaxing. My poor kitty. She is such a little soldier and she's so sweet, we feel awful when she feels awful. And she's such a good sport that it makes it hard to tell how sick she is or whether this is just a random round of nausea. She was just dancing like a maniac 20 minutes before she tossed her cookies all over Daddy. Toddlers are so weird.

11:15PM: Realize our jankity washer has stopped in the middle of washing the last load of sheets we started. A common occurrence that requires us to hit the "reset" button on the outlet. Not so amusing when it's time for bed and we have  no sheets. Re-start washer. Throw selves on naked mattress. Not naked on mattress. 

12AM: Pull sheets out of washer to discover The Good Doctor has washed a Kleenex along with them so there are bits of paper product all over our bedding. Die a little inside.

12:30AM: Playing Hanging with Friends on my phone when Good Doctor dumps heavy pile of warm sheets on my head. Commence making bed, followed by collapsing into snuggly goodness and passing out. Except I have terrible heartburn and can't get comfortable for another 30 minutes. Good times.

Catvertising

Great video of the day shared by my friends at The Daily Dot. Purrlicious. Smart. Hilarious.

And the timing is spot on for our household because Baby Bear is officially dead. Just like that. After debuting as a leopard for Halloween, Emmy has killed off her Baby Bear persona. She is now "Baby Kitty." If you call her Bear, or Baby Bear or any form of the Ursus species, you will be swiftly corrected, "I'm not a bear, you idiot I'm Baby Kitty!"

I would get her a cat. If I weren't horribly allergic to them. Videos like this will have to do for now.

P.S. Further research turned up some controversy. Apparently some people say the "Catvertising" video is a rip off of this one.

Folks, I think there's enough cat-larity to go around.

Emmy Misses Mommy

We're in DC right now to cover the NTSB's final report on the cause of last year's deadly pipeline rupture in San Bruno.

It's the longest and furthest I've been away from my darling girl and I wasn't sure if she'd remember me or miss me. Partly because Daddy is her B to the FF and takes her to fun places and plays fun games and is overall so much more fun than Mommy.

But today she saw me on TV at 6 and she touched the screen and said, "Mommy!" "Mommy?" "Mommmeeee!" Repeatedly. And when the story came on and she didn't see me, she asked where I went and when I came back on for the tag, she reached up again. When Dada asked if she missed me, she said yes and where was I?

But he reassured her I'd be back soon, and I'd bring a present! It made me feel really happy and sad all at once. Kids. They are so permanent and you'll never be the same once you have one.

Now, what to get a 2 year old from Washington D.C. Washington monument keychain too stabby. "Future President" t-shirt too obnoxious. Shot glass?

My photog is currently singing Whitney Houston's "Greatest Love of All" and telling me to write down the times for my supers, so I think it's time to sign off.