Happy Birthday, Little Ruler

I know I've been dreadful at blogging this month. Life with Reagan is one surprise after another with a bunch of routine tossed in between. I'm hoping that makes sense to other parents out there.

Today we celebrate our baby girl who isn't a baby anymore...

Our Future Olympian...

The Olympics are big in our household. They always have been but this year, as the host country is Reagan's first country, they're extra big. They're also extra emotional because while we love the Chinese people and are grateful for our sweet Reagan Ru...we abhor Communism and the lack of individual freedom it offers its people. We are particularly moved by the plight of Chinese Christians, women and unborn. These are not just images on Western televisions. They're actual people living (or dying) through horrible circumstances that are out of their control. China needs to clean up its act and our prayer is that the Olympics will help it do just that. It is a great nation with great potential and we believe it can reach and exceed the world's expectations someday.

...Stepping off soapbox to brag about child...

You've heard me mention Reagan's bendy-ness before. She regularly hangs out with her legs above her head as though that's an actual position God intended for the human body. She runs, skips, hops and slides all over the house. The other night as we watched amazing Olympic dive after amazing dive, we realized Reagan was imitating the athletes by diving (really, literally DIVING) head first off the edge of the couch. She has absolutely no fear. Obviously, our parental instincts kicked in and we stopped Reagan from her just-waiting-for-a-head-injury antics.

Then moments later the commentator casually mentioned that one of the Chinese divers makes $3 million annually off her endorsements alone.

Wordlessly, I let my grip on Reagan loosen and she immediately threw herself off the furniture again, landing with a somersault on the floor. I made eye contact with my husband and could tell he was thinking what I was thinking.

I'll have to finish this post later. That's Nike on the phone.

Peanut Butter As Body Lotion

Today Reagan got a nasty bug bite while outside and despite the fact that I slathered it with hydro cortisone, she still complained of the itch. I finally took her shirt clean off and put her in her high chair for lunch with only her jeans on.

I made her a peanut butter sandwich, found some grapes and milk and plopped the food in front of my "Itchy, Mommy. Ow. Itchy" child.

Then I left the kitchen, walked down the hall and slid out of my flip flops. I put my wedding ring and watch on my dresser, pivoted and returned to the kitchen. I was gone maybe 30 seconds.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Reagan had turned her sandwich peanut butter side out and SMEARED it across her chest and tummy region. She'd also applied the PB lotion to the outsides and palms of her hands as well as her cheeks.

I literally checked the clock to make sure the bedroom wasn't in some sort of time warp and I'd actually left her alone for an hour instead of mere seconds. Nope. The clock confirmed my suspicions--Reagan lives to blow my mind.

As true testament to how much I've grown accustomed to the general disaster a toddler creates, I sat down and ate my lunch. Reagan finished her meal and then I tackled the cleaning process.

After laboring over her skin, I pulled her out of the chair only to discover that her jeans and the chair's straps were completely covered in goo, as well. Please note, there just wasn't that much PB on the sandwich to begin with; I believe it grew in size and stickiness somehow though I've yet to solve that mystery. I'll let you know if I do.

I carried my beloved angel at arm's length down the hall to her room. The whole time she's jabbering about her baby, the weather, offshore drilling options and when she'll see Jackson next. Not a word about the fact that she's a peanut butter-covered wiggle worm.

I'm pulling off her sticky jeans when it dawns on her. She said, "Hmmm....me messy."

Ya think?!

Accept no substitutions...

We're leaving for the airport in a matter of 58 minutes or so. We're headed for the land of no humidity...Colorado!

Last night in an attempt to save time this morning, Danny and I packed and packed everything we wouldn't need today. We stayed up late to ready the house, water plants, print tickets and debate airport regulations concerning my lotion.

Before putting our little monkey to bed, I also took Todd, the very pink tiger to our room. He is securely packed away as I type this. I tried to explain to Reagan that Todd was going with us, that he needed to be packed and she would see him tomorrow.

In order to pacify her, I gave her a lavender-scented sheep and a soft, soft seagull flown in from San Francisco earlier this spring. They're both perfectly delightful bed mates and to my knowledge neither of them has parasites or a habit of hogging the covers. Should've been fine, right?

Wrong.

I tiptoed in to Reagan's room last night to acquire the baby monitor I'd forgotten and tripped over something squishy on the floor. A sheep body. A few feet further (and many, many feet from HRH's bed) I found the seagull. Our angel hurled these innocent creatures across the room after we left her.

If you can't sleep with Todd, don't sleep with anyone, I suppose.

Reagan, the foodie

So last night at supper, Reagan politely asked for a "neenex" which means Kleenex. I gave her one and we watched, both amazed and amused as she flicked it in the air and then placed it on her lap gently. She smoothed it out and everything and then smiled at us. Her Neenex looked just like our napkins. It was so sweet and clever and we both praised her and then commented to each other about how brilliant and delightful our child is. We were still talking about it as we hit the sack hours later.

Today I caught her cramming and smearing Jello into her belly button, I kid you not.