I'm preparing for a double date with two of our friends who actually aren't dating each other. I'm going a little overboard, I think. I'm serving two fondue courses--including all dippables imaginable--pork tenderloin, virgin daquiris, and homemade ice cream. I hope the candles and the George Winston CD won't freak them out.

Grace sleeps with a scrap of silky material that was dubbed "Shiny." It's meant to be only a night-time comfort. But she has retrieved it from her crib and is right now wearing it as a scarf and feeding it through my all-in-one fax-copier-printer.

I used to carry a blanket that resembled cloth diapers sewn together. My mom insisted washing it one day, prying it from my crying clutches. It never came back. She told me the washer ate it.
I have wondered how to sever Grace's attachment to Shiny. But betrayal and deception isn't really my thing.

Happy half-birthday to the little nugget!

In celebration, here's a list of what motherhood has made me do over the past year-and-a-half:

1. Cut coupons
2. Worry loudly over infantile constipation
3. Snap over 1000 photos
4. Trash any hopes of scrapbooking them
5. Gratefully accept hand-me-down clothes
6. Pick someone else's nose
7. Disco-jive to Bach (Baby Einstein Style)
8. Stop pleasure-reading
9. Visit my parents in Texas every other month
10. Sit helpless in the airplane while the strapped-in-her-car-seat monkey rhythmically kicks the seat of the man in front of her
11. Make repeated apologies for things I have no control over (but maybe I used to do that before)
12. Speak in high, faux-excited tones
13. Walk ten minutes every day getting only half way up the street
14. Carry a purse that holds: A bottle of Children's Motrin, 1 sippy cup containing rotten milk, 1 empty baby-wipe container, 1 half-full baby wipe container, sticky M&Ms, never more than $4 cash, flouride, mineral oil, 2 bottles of water, a ziploc bag of raisins, an old-no-longer-in-service-cell phone, and 0 diapers. (How can I always forget those?)
15. Fear: heights, bathwater, flammable pajamas, carbon monoxide, vehicles in reverse, germs, and church nursery
16. Go to the bathroom with the door open
17. Panic when I fail to get home by 2:00 pm for naptime
18. Cry at the end of "The Little Engine That Could" (in the middle of Storytime at the local Library)

Grace said "no" today. I've been fearing the word for weeks, and now that the dreadful day has arrived, I wish it had come sooner. "No" (even if it's screamed) is better than another one of those writhing, teeth-gnashing tantrums.

Her vocabulary now includes: go (usually repeated over and over and over), shoe, ow, Mommy, Dad (which she shouts from her crib. Wonder why she doesn't call for me?), hot, hi, diaper (barely recognizeable as "bie-boh"), and uh-oh, which was also her first word. Is that really all? Ten words. And we keep telling ourselves she's a genius.

She is, at the very least, busy.

Brad got home from school yesterday while I was making muddy buddies, and attacked me into cuddling with him. I like that part of the day. Anyway, Grace played in the kitchen where we found her like this.

Take a look at the video: