I got to get my "girl fix" for a couple weeks. First we went to visit my family and see our adorable almost-two-year-old niece. Then, a day after we arrived home, Ryan's brother and our other niece came to stay with us for about a week, and I got to babysit while her daddy was at work. Long story short: It was fun. She was cute. Girls are a whole different animal. Here's a quick run down of all the reasons God decided to bless me with three boys.
- Little girls don't like to be dirty. While gardening, Little Miss started crying not from boredom or hunger or any other eighteen-month-old ailments. Her issue? Straw and dirt on her feet. Meanwhile, Reed and Calvin are rolling in the stuff.
- I suck at little girl hair. I gave up within a minute when I tried in front of Niece #1's mommy. But when I was playing mommy to Niece #2, I was the only option. I wanted to show her off in all her cuteness to all the other story hour moms, so I kept trying. I finally wrestled her thin whispies into two lopsided piggies. I was pretty proud of myself. Until I unbuckled her at the library and discovered she had pulled out one of the piggies. I couldn't find the tiny rubber band anywhere, her hair was way too short for a pony tail, and it was all sticking out like crazy. I got what I could in a high side pony a la Pebbles. The rest stuck straight out to the side. Fail.
- There are 14 different shades of pink and none of them match!
People always ask us if we're going to try one more time for a girl. After my grocery trip as a mother of four, the answer to that would be, um, no. Grocery trips are never fantab with my three, but this one was a five-alarm disaster. There were the usual shenanigans. Then, after the shopping cart was too full for Max to ride in the basket, he had to tag along. Yeah right. After I chased him down halfway across the store, Miss Niece had to give up her seat for Mr. Naughty. She was not thrilled about walking. Not. Thrilled. At. All. So, I picked her up and Reed volunteered to push the cart (look out, little old ladies!) and we hobbled noisily through the rest of the trip, trying to knock over as few things as possible. When we were loading groceries into the van, a woman stopped me and told me she and the cashiers had been talking about me. Here it comes, I thought. Then she went on to compliment my patience (translation: Wooh! Your kids were supreme brats!) and ended with this: "We just were talking about what a phenomenal mother you are."
On second thought, maybe we should try for that girl...