We just got home from a trip to Grandma's, and it dawned on me that today Sophie Grace reaches 18 months.  WIth the first kid, you know their age down to weeks; the second, you count in months; and the third, you're lucky if you remember their name, let alone their age.  Nonetheless, 18 months is quite a milestone.  You're still little enough to smush like a baby, but now you're more independent and interactive. 

Just recently Sophie has started calling me "Mommy", which means she really knows who I am.  I mean, she's always known me as the source of her food and comfort, but now I have a title according to her.  It just happened all of a sudden.  She never really called me anything before- mostly just held her arms up and fussed at me until I picked her up.  Now, she walks around the house calling me by name, and I adore it just as much now as I did the first time I heard it when Trevor uttered it so many years ago.  And she sounds exactly like Victoria, so much so that I often don't know which one is calling for me.  Other words she can say include no, Bella, puppy, Phoebe, go, shoes, and yo! (as in Yo Gabba Gabba). 

What she lacks in verbal skills, she more than makes up for in physical and problem- solving skills.  Her dexterity is so advanced that she can screw and unscrew caps with ease.  This enables her to easily win her game that she created and has dubbed "Ow!" in which she pinches you as hard as she can until you scream "OW!"  She has figured out the secret to seeing her favorite show YGG lies in the remote.  On several occassions, she has managed to push just the right combo of buttons to get the DVR to play it.  Most of the time, though, she thrusts the remote onto the lap of the nearest person, so that they can put the show on for her.  If said person does not respond as she desires, she brings every YGG toy and book she owns to the person since they obviously are too dense to realize what she wants. 

Sophie is also the one child that willingly helps around the house.  Albeit it usually is one of her own messes she's cleaning, but I only have to ask once for her to clean up after herself, and she does it.  I wish I could say the same about her siblings.

Now that the majority of her teeth have come in, her sweet disposition has returned.  It was a rough 6 to12 months there where she was majorly cranky and drooly, but my evenly tempered baby is back, that is until she's overly tired.  Then it's game on.

I'm so excited that she is now at an age in which she can play with her brother and sister.  She chases them around, and they chase her.  At Grandma's, she got over her fear of floaties and was able to swim like a fish with Trevor and Victoria and not be literally and figuratively attached to my side, which brings me to what this is really about...

I offically have NO MORE BABIES!!!  No you may remember this in which I professed that realizing it's my last baby is so sad- boo hoo hoo, and all that crap.  Well, with every kid, and this one is no exception, 18 months marks the point in which the baby hormones officially completely depart, and I regain my sanity.  This point is especially important this time around, because it's the last time I get to celebrate this milestone.  My baby is finally a toddler, and I/ We are well on our way to regaining our normal lives- lives that don't revolve around diaper changes and scheduled feedings and naps.  Soon we'll be potty training and done with diapers altogether, and I CAN"T WAIT!  Don't get me wrong, I have thoroughly enjoyed having babies, but I've put in my time.  Now before you say I'm asking for it with all of this celebration, the wonderful folks at Paragard have ensured that I will remain baby-free for 10 years or until one of us gets neutered.

So, this milestone is just as important to me as it is to Sophie.  Happy Half -Birthday Baby!

In order to celebrate, we're going to fill our bellies with grilled delights, pack in some sweet goodies, and finish it off with a fireworks show, because we're Americans dammit, and we know a little somethin' about gettin' fat and lightin' fires.  Maybe that's just the south; I don't know.  What I do know is that this is the cutest cake, and I can't wait to eat it.

It's a cake that looks like a hamburger? Get it? I know we're bombarded with those cake shows with famous decorators that make way cooler desserts, but I have to give kudos to my local Food Lion for brightening my day for under 7$.  After the store, Trevor and I picked up some fireworks.

  They were buy one get one free, so I went all out.  Hopefully no one (Trevor) will lose a finger accidentally or otherwise (Victoria).  The baby will probably spend the evening in her room crying/sleeping.  I'm sure I'll have pics of the terrified faces to post tomorrow.  Until then, Happy Birthday, America.  You don't look a day over 200.

***Updated to include pics

Sophie at the beginning of the fireworks show...

Sophie at the end

So after an hour and a half at the eye doctor today, we walked out with orders for FOUR pairs of glasses.  That's right.  First, Trevor at age 7 and now Victoria at age 4.  Her beautiful baby blues are about to be hidden behind some funky specs.  Just because she has to wear nerd gear, doesn't mean she has to look like one.  We picked out some very cute wire-rimmed teal and purple frames.  She was very excited, actually, handling it much better than other people I know that cried when he was told.  Oh, and the kicker is she's far sighted, which is odd, considering the rest of us are near sighted.  Also odd since she sits 2 inches from the television.  I'm not thrilled with the outcome because she does have such pretty peepers, but one day she will wear contacts, and they will be center stage once again.  For now, though, her glasses will be yet another extension of her 80's inspired style, and she will still be the most beautiful little girl I know.  One of the most beautiful, that is (Mommy loves you, Sophie).

These are the nicknames bestowed upon my children by their favorite (and only) Aunt Kathleen.  Boy, Trevor's going to be upset when he finds out which one he is.

Sophie Grace- The Bully- I can't disagree.  She's feisty and mean.  Anyone who's heard Victoria stories probably would never have guessed she would become the victim of a younger siblings violent tendencies.  Sophie is contantly pushing, scratching, and pinching her.  And what does she do in defense? She runs away screaming.  And forget about anyone else sitting in my lap.  Sophie immediately comes over screaming at them, pointing in their face, and pushes them out or pinches them until they leave.  Don't get me wrong, I adore the fact that this child loves me that much, but I sure hope she grows out of this stage with no permanent injuries to her siblings.

Victoria- The Boss- Middle children end up one of two things- totally forgotten in the mix or the center of attention.  Victoria naturally has become the latter.  She refuses to be ignored or stifled, which is both endearing and frustrating.  She won't take "no" for an answer, and she makes her own rules.  Much like her namesake Queen, she commands her subjects, and we are but pawns in her kingdom.

Trevor- The Baby Vagina- Before anyone is accused of emotionally abusing my son, know that this nickname was actually given by his sister, The Boss.  They were arguing in the car one day, and it just came out.  Then, like the showman she is, she put it to music- "Baby Vagina sittin' in a tree."  I, of course, couldn't hold back my laughter, offending Trevor beyond belief.  For one, the words "baby vagina" are particularly hysterical when put together and coming out of a 4-year-old's mouth.  For another, that crude depitction of Trevor's personality couldn't be more dead on.  He is the sweetest most intelligent child.  He is also the most sensitive little boy I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.  His sensitivity is an asset and a liability, in that he is empathetic to all creatures, but he is forever getting his feelings hurt.  He will make a wonderful browbeaten husband one day.

This day is a bittersweet one for me.  I lost my dad at the ripe old age of 5, but I married this guy who's an awesome dad to my kids, so everything turned out ok.  It's weird to think that I was only a little older than Victoria when my father died.  I spent so many years being sad and angry that he missed the big moments- high school/ college graduations, my wedding, the birth of all of my children.  Then, I realized that had he been alive, we may have never moved, and I wouldn't have met Wesley and had the 3 beautiful children I have now.  I wish he could have met them.  I know that he's somewhere laughing at how awesomely appropriate karma can be when he watches not one, but TWO girls with the...let's call it "spirit"... of his youngest and most difficult child.  Happy Fathers' Day to all dads here and beyond.

    It's the 2nd week of summer break, and I'm already tapped out.  We literally sat around the house all day today and barely spoke to one another.  I would feel guilty about this if I hadn't spent the past week at the beach with all 3 kids and my mom.  Each day we would wake up, and I would cook breakfast.  We'd hit the beach for a couple of hours, come home and eat lunch, and then go back.  A few days we even went back a THIRD time.  My poor mother thought she would go and help me with the kids, but I have a self-sufficient 8-year-old that met a 9-year-old girl there and didn't have much to do with us after that, a 4-year-old who constantly demanded that I go out deep in the ocean with her, and a 1-year-old that refused to let me out of her sight.  Every time I would go into the ocean with Victoria, Sophie would walk with outstretched arms toward the ocean crying her head off.  Thank God for the few times I was able to leave Sophie back at the house with Mom, so Victoria could actually have me to herself.  All in all the trip was great, and the kids were fantastic.  Well, until Thursday afternoon in which I had all of them by myself at the beach at high tide.  Everyone was beached out by that point, so it was good we were coming back home on Friday. 

So, after the long drive home on Friday, I took Trevor and Victoria to the movies on Saturday, we all went bowling on Sunday, and I took them to the pool yesterday.  Can you say "Mom of the Year"?  So, I'm tired, to say the least, which is the reason for the delay in posting the beach pics.  Enjoy.

    Almost 20 years ago, I met a silly boy.  I didn't think much about him- cute but goofy- that was it.  It was the summer before I started high school, and we were both taking instrument lessons from the same lady.  I didn't talk much with him over the next couple of years.  He was a year older than me, so I only saw him in band.  Then, we returned from summer break for his senior year, my junior.  He'd grown a foot and really filled out, so I found myself all of the sudden very interested in this boy.  After only a few days of hanging out with him, I knew we were soulmates. 

    We dated and broke up and dated again.  We went to my senior prom together, and I followed him to college.  We got engaged my senior year.  Check out the youthful innocence.

We married on June 4th, 2000- 10 years ago.  Before we married, I remember going through premarital counseling, and we were asked if we wanted kids, who would take care of them, etc.  We always thought I would be the bread winner, and I remember making the statement that I would be fine if Wesley were to stay home with the kids.  This all changed on March 16, 2002, the day we became a family and had our first child.

I was instantly in love and knew that my purpose in life was not to be a CFO or VP of anything.  It was to be a mother.  It was maybe 6 months after I had Trevor that I was ready to have another one.  He was so easy, quiet, and content.  Little did I know what was in store for me with number 2.  By the grace of God, I didn't get pregnant with and have Victoria until Trevor was 3.

I swore that we were done having children after Victoria.  She was (and still is) headstrong, defiant, and difficult.  She's also beautiful, intelligent, and funny as hell.  Still, I really meant it when I said we were done, but fate had other plans.

    10 years ago I thought I would be a bigwig Finance executive at some big company making a ton of money and living in a huge house.  I would have never thought I would be an unemployed stay at home mom going back to school to start an entirely different career.  I also never imagined that I would have 3 amazingly beautiful children and be as happy as I am right now.  In my twenties, I thought happiness was measured by my level of success.  I now realize that my success is measured by my level of happiness, and I have achieved more than I ever thought possible.

Come on!  Can you believe this?!  If I could have picked the characteristics in a son that the two of us could NEVER produce, they would have been: self-motivated, over-achieving, sensitive, accepting, and non-judgmental.  Behold, my son, and his straight A's for the entire year.  Grades that were earned entirely by him.  We barely stayed on top of him this year.  He deserves all of the credit, and we are extremely proud.

Grade 02 (2009-2010)

    After over 8 hours of valiant effort to keep my computer from freezing during the process, I was able to download 2 videos of Victoria's end of the year performance.  I'm checking into children's plays as I type this.

Today is Wesley's birthday, so in honor of this occassion, I'm going to do something completely out of character.  I'm going to be nice. I'll take this opportunity to say that Wesley is the best husband and father you could ask for. He cooks, cleans, and takes care of the kids.  He has been amazing throughout my (lack of) job situation and has completely supported my decision to go back to Nursing school.  He never shies away from showing his affection and adoration for our children, and because of him, they are growing into strong, independent, caring individuals. He is their defender, protector, and hero.  Of course, I can never tell him any of this to his face, so he'll just have to read it here.  Happy Birthday, Babe!