"My Bama"

With the election less than two months away it's hard for anyone to ignore the all-out media circus going on between the candidates. This includes my 2 1/2 year old as well.

Our morning ritual is this: Paul is up and out of bed at the crack of dawn. I sleep in ('sleep in' being used lightly, as in till maybe 7am) until Sienna wakes me up. And this is the dialog that I am awoken to. Every morning. Seven days a week.

"MAMA!"
"MOM!"
"MAAAAAAAMMMMMMMAAAAAHHHH!"

By now I'm rustled slowly from a dream and begin to realize that Sienna is not calling me from across a vast, grassy field; but in fact she is in the very next room and wants out from her crib.

"MAAAAAMAAAAHHHHH!"
Then a loud thud. And I know from past experience Elephant has been hurled across her room.

"MAAMMAAAAAHHHHHHH I need a diaper change!"
Yes, you would think that when a toddler tells you she needs a diaper change that it's time for the same toddler to lose the Pampers and hit the potty. Not this toddler. I'm pretty sure she'll be wearing her diaper well into the winter. And yes, she does turn three this February.

Finally I stumble into her room and pull Sienna up out of the crib, peel Elephant from off the floor, and change her diaper (Sienna's, not the Elephant's). I deposit Sienna onto my bed, then it's off to get her milk and on the re-bound retrieve her sister. Luna is typically awake in her crib, yet laying still and quiet as a mouse. When I lean over to reach for her, she gives me a big toothless smile and pounds the matress with her chubby leggies.

The three of us flop into bed together, and if Sienna lets me, I put on Good Morning America. Lately the story is about Obama, wife Michelle, Biden, McCain or Palin. Each time Obama flashes on the screen I say to Sienna, "that is Obama. He is running for president and Mommy and Daddy are voting for him"

So, this morning was no different. Us girls laid in bed, and each time Obama appeared on the screen, I would say, "That's Obama". and Sienna, in perfect two-year-old spirit, would fire back, "No, MY BAMA!".

Just because this is so hilarious...

...this was the scene at our house yesterday evening. This was not posed. Well, OK, Luna didn't exactly walk over and plop into her little infant seat-but the bunny and cat did arrive to this pose on their own.
For those of you who know the Stoucy, our cat, you realize how unlikely this sight is. Stoucy is, in a word, psycho. The only people who like her are Paul and my Dad-go figure. (I sense there is a joke there, but I'll let it be).

The rest of us can't stand her. The last time we weighed her she was close to 30lb. She weighs more than my 2 year old. She also thinks she's a German Shepard. As my friend Janelle can attest to, she once chased her around the house. It was truly frightening. I hadn't the time to warn Janelle one visit before she went over to pet and coo with the 'nice kitty'. Stoucy pounced. But she didn't stop-she chased Janelle up and down the hallway and around the living room-Janelle had to jump on the couch to escape-and Stoucy, who is too fat and too lazy-gave up and walked away. Even Sienna yells at her-something I'm to blame for, and feel a tinge of guilt-every time I hear Sienna scold, "Stoucy, No!". This command is hollered often when Stoucy is sitting cleaning her paws-completely minding her own business.

The poor bunny is another story. One freezing night, Paul convinced me to join him in a ride to some God-forsaken place called Mechanic Falls, Maine so we could check out a lop breeder. He thought Sienna would like a bunny for Christmas. Turns out, Sienna is like me, bunnies bore her. A few days after we brought the tiny furball home the novelty had worn off and no one could even be bothered with naming the poor thing, so we all call her 'Bunn'.

So, I guess it's nice to see that Stoucy and Bunn have bonded. At least we can feel good knowing that if no one else seems to like them, they have each other.