To You and Yours....

BOO!

AAAAAAAaaaaaahhhhhh!




Not really, I guess. The only scary thing about these pictures of the girls on Halloween is that it took me almost 3 weeks to share them. Maybe that's not scary, really. Maybe bordering on a bit sad, a bit embarrassing, a bit... nevermind.





Caelin played the oh-so-fun game of musical costumes this year. She wanted to be a Corpse Bride, so we ordered her a beautiful lilac dress that we could distress with mud and scissors, and add a nice raggy veil to.



Said beautiful dress arrived, and the only thing that got distressed was Caelin, with the thought of ruining her pretty new dress. Corpse Bride was quickly abandoned for Newly Dead Model (no decomposing of the dress), then finally Model, so that pretty makeup could be added.

Gracie decided to be a vet this year, because she loves taking care of her doggies. Mean old me wouldn't let her take the dogs out trick-or-treating to torment the neighbor kids, so she chose a snuggly little Webkinz instead.

And she spent the day and evening correcting everyone that called her a Cute Little Doctor. No, actually, she would pull my leg and whisper to me to correct them. Such fun, being bossed around by a 4 year old. A lot.

But who could say no to that little face? Or the other little face, really. I spend entire days around here just trying to say no to cute little girly faces and failing miserably.

I guess there are worse ways to spend your days.

Love is in the Air

Caelin and Grace Wonitoy are honored to announce

the wedding of their doggie

Daisy

to

Dozer

Saturday, August 16

Two thousand and eight.

By four o'clock, the preparations for the upcoming nuptials were complete. The bells and tulle had been hung, the wedding feast (tacos, of course) had been prepared, and margaritas were well under way.

The bride and groom had both shed their cases of "cold paws" and were ready to get this show on the road and get hitched. The likelihood that this was a canine shotgun wedding was not even brought up once.

Unfortunately, some of the honored guests didn't quite understand the sanctity of such an event, (yes, you know who you are), and arrived an hour late, when most of the margaritas had been consumed (and I'm not saying by whom) and the officiant was starting to get antsy.

That's the officiant, right there. The husband. Waiting to perform a doggie wedding.

Now, just as an aside, would you call that an amused expression on his face, there? Bemused? Or just resigned? I'm just curious, I kind of get that look alot and I'm not quite sure if I should be insulted or not.

Anyhoo, the wedding finally began and the bride and groom performed beautifully. Neither one of them soiled the beautiful white wedding arch, which was apparently a bet going around with the guests. Nice, guys.

Daisy took her vows seriously. She's the well-trained one.

Or, at least she was, until she decided to show off her wedding night attire to everyone who would look. Show off. Nobody told her she was supposed to pull that kind of a stunt at the shower, not at such a sacred event as her own wedding. Shocking, really.

The bride and groom were happy to feast at the head table, though my suspicion is that despite getting their own special meal, many of the guests were feeding them tacos. I won't share why I suspect such a thing, because such talk is icky and stinky and gross. Enough said.

In all, a good time was had by everyone, and we would like to wish the happy couple all the doggy blessings in the world. Now let's see some puppies!

Our Twisted Little World

Um, I'm not sure which one is more strange. The fact that Daisy finds it perfectly acceptable to snuggle up to a partially-completed doll head...


or that my darling children accept that a tiny dog sleeping with an eyeless amputated doll head is perfectly normal.

No matter, I suppose.

Growing up in the home of a doll maker has grown them perfectly accustomed to seeing heads and limbs go in and out of the oven, boxes of eyeballs on the kitchen counter, and Mommy listening to documentaries on Discovery channel while repeatedly stabbing hair into a baby's head for hours at a time.

Yeah, normal is definitely relative at our house. Sorry, girls.

My Heart is Broken

My beloved Grandfather, one of the most special people I have ever known, passed away suddenly in his sleep on Thursday night.

An amazing man, my Grampa taught me to reach for the stars, and I always worked so hard to make him proud. He loved life, and radiated such warmth and love that everyone around him felt happier just to be with him.

I'll miss you, Grampa. I don't think I will ever fill the hole that is in my heart from your loss.

Babies, Babies, and More Babies

I have been back to baby-making full-speed, so our house is once again filled with parts everywhere and the smell of baking vinyl. Yum.

The girls are loving it, because it means fast and easy suppers (like pancakes, or spaghetti), and less Mommy-interference in their little games.

Poor Caelin has a nasty ear infection, and has been not well since Saturday night. She is missing a field trip today, and she is none too happy about it. Ryan has promised her a "bigger, better" trip once she is feeling better, so she has resigned herself to the fact that it is one more day on the couch for her.

Anyway, here are some pictures of my recent babies, I've been updating the site too, at http://www.dreambabydolls.com/ It is an ongoing project, but one I'm hoping to complete soon. I'll be back with pictures of my real babies - my girls - this weekend, I swear.

The Daredevil Emerges

... at the sledding hill. And, not shockingly, the Daredevil would be Gracie. In response to her big sister's pleas of "No, no, we're high enough!", Gracie yelled "Higher, Faster, Higher, Daddy!"

Yup, like we didn't see that coming. At least her Aunt Steffanie will have someone to ride the roller coasters with in a few years, right? Then she can get it out of her system and avoid all the future teenage nastiness with fast cars and the boys who drive them. Right.

The girls learned quickly the fastest and easiest way up the hill, of course.

They also quickly learned, however, that payback is a bitch.

Despite Mommy's frozen toes, the girls loved the ups and downs and ups and downs, and after awhile were able to coax Daddy off of the sled so they could have some parent-free fun.

And of course, some of that speacial sister-to-sister bonding that happens when the nosies are pink and the toesies are frozen.

He Finally Did It ! ! ! !

Not that I would ever admit to being picky, because that is *so* not in my nature (the admitting) , but in the past the husband has proved less than fabulously successful in picking out gifts for me.

He tries harder than most, he really does, and he has come up with brilliant ideas in the past. It isn't his fault that the super-cool floor washing robot didn't actually get the floors clean. Perhaps in a few years the technology will be vastly improved and the little robot will do more than shoot water and suck it up, leaving no more little footprints in its wake.

The vacuum that I got last year was well-received, even if the most important part of the gift, the promising to use it *for* me, was forgotten by the first week in January. Sigh.

But this year, THIS year, I got the best present ever! In collaboration with my brilliant Caelin, he finally got the reaction he has tried for for SOOOO many years: tears under the tree. I'm blaming it on hormones ('cause we women-folk can do that), but when I opened the gift that I am about to share with you all, I actually cried.

Okay, here it is. Now, it was a set of 3 photos that I received, but it was this one that got me.


Isn't she just gorgeous? Sure, the cheesy photoshopping with the fairies is cute and all, but look at her face. Just look at it.


In all the kajillion photos that I have taken of this child, none have shown her like this. This is my girl. Her pure, sweet nature. Her gorgeous smile. It is just so. Her.


So, husband, you finally did it. Let's give him all a fantabulous hand! Maybe next year, I'll get a picture of *both* my girls, but this year, honey, you did great! Thank you.

As the dust clears...

My apologies for having had to step away from the blog so long. After a wonderful and happy Christmas in which the girls were spoiled *rotten*, and during which we enjoyed spending lots of time with our family and friends, we were quite blindsided by some disheartening events in my family beyond our control.

In the end, as the dust settles in the aftermath, my girls and husband are great. I'm still sorting a lot out, but I'll get there too, I know.

I'll be back soon with some recent pictures of the girls, and I'll share with you what I think was my best Christmas gift *ever*.

Decking the Halls

Oh, the preparations. Between the shopping, cooking, and assorted merriments of the season, alas Ryan was lacking in time to bake the girls a "real" gingerbread house this year.

We will hold tightly to the hope that next year, our award-winning gingerbread artist Daddy will show us how it is done, but in the meantime, the girls had a blast with their own creations. While the "shell" was courtesy of Michael's, they spent the evening inputting their own creativity and effort.



Grace enjoyed inputting the candy into her mouth.



And Caelin, flushed with the Fifth Disease that had shown up the night before, took great pride in her work, diligently placing each candy just so.



We also considered that our decorations were lacking a little something furry this year, and so Santa's elves made an early delivery and blessed us with little Dozer.


Dozer is a darling little boy Chihuahua and is a hefty 1 1/2 pounds. You can all look forward to the wedding photos this spring when Daisy and Dozer will tie the knot in a backyard wedding ceremony and reception.

Yep, seriously. As per our pounding it in over years of conversation, Caelin holds firm in the belief that one *must* be married before having babies. Upon learning that in the future, Daisy may have little puppies of her own, a very serious discussion developed about this value that we hold so important.

And thus, a seamstress has been comissioned to create the wedding attire, and the invitations will be mailed out in May. As the date nears, we will advise as to where the happy couple has registered.

Somebody Please Help Me!

Those familiar with the little one that we call Gracie will not be surprised by the story I am about to tell. You know who you are, the ones that say "oh, she's so cute", while secretly snickering as I pull my hairs out one by one. The ones that quietly whisper a prayer of thanks that she isn't coming home with *you*. To those of you who are not as well-informed about the shenanigans that she comes up with, you may want to skip this post so as not to taint the kind image you have in your head about this darling girl with the big green eyes.

It was Caelin's intention last night to go to the mall with her dad to pick out Mommy's Christms present. We thought that Gracie and I may as well tag along and split up at the mall, meeting them when they were finished. Of course, once there, Grace was entirely unimpressed with the plan and wanted to go with her Dad and sister. Because it was sooooo busy, she was quickly vetoed and Ryan and Caelin went on their merry little way.

Note to self: Never Veto Grace.

As soon as Daddy was out of sight, Gracie decided to cry. And cry. And cry. Irritated that this wasn't having the desired effect, and Daddy didn't coming running back, after a few minutes Gracie came up with a new plan. It went like this:

Cry. Cry. Cry. Oh, look, a stranger is coming. Scream loudly at top of lungs: "HELP ME! HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!".

I must admit. Had someone stopped me to ask if I was in fact kidnapping this forlorn screaming child, I'd have gladly handed her over. Gladly.

Eventually when not one of the unkind strangers that she had so piteously appealed to actually stopped to help her, she came up with one last plan. She sat in the stroller quietly sobbing to herself "Daddy's Lost. Daddy's Lost Forever. I Love My Daddy". She basked in the sympathetic glances of all the Nice Mommies at Gap, and looked quite impressed with herself that at last, she had come up with *something* that had worked. And she had taught Mommy a lesson, too. Never veto Grace. At least not without backup.

It's that time of year (again)

The freezer is quickly being filled to the brim with holiday baking, the music of choice in the car and at home is Christmas carols, and the TV is filled with the holiday specials made by every cartoon character ever made. Sigh.

But the fun part of Christmas is getting Christmas photos back from Sears. While loudly not impressed with their lack of photoshop-ability to remove a little ouchie from Caelin's face (in fact, I believe the term that the loving husband used was that I was being passive-agressive), the pictures turned out quite well. After getting the pictures home, scanning them in, and making some minor adjustments, they are ready to share with you all. (Don't worry, Grandmas, I have bigger files for printing them out).



There is definitely something to be said for letting someone else take pictures of your children for you. Much less yelling for "real" smiles, and due to my sad lack of studio-quality lighting, I'd be plunking their chilly little tushies into snowbanks at -20 to get some good natural light. Not that I'd be against that, mind you, but apparently "suck it up, princess" does not inspire kids to give you their happiest Christmas grins. Whiners.

Raising Little Pagans

We were visiting the vet yesterday with Daisy, and Caelin decided, as she has been doing lots lately, to "teach" Grace something. Grace receives daily "lessons" now, from how to peel an orange, how to squeeze the innards out of the cooked peas so they taste better (?), how to pronounce her words correctly, whatever. Anything at all can become a lesson to teach her little sister.

So anyway, at the vet, there was a very pretty manger scene set up on the counter. And so Caelin explains... "That's the baby Jesus. And there is the Mommy and the Daddy. And the donkey and the - what's that, Mom? - oh yeah, the sheep. The sheep says "Baaa", Gracie. Can you say "Baaa"? Of course, Gracie obliges and baaa's a few times very loudly, I'm sure the vet techs in the next room were wondering what the heck we were doing. So she continues... "and that, up there in the sky, is the fairy". The FAIRY? Of course, my giggles alerted her that maybe she had an error in the lesson plan. A gentle reminder, and she recalled - of COURSE, the Angel! However, too late for her little pupil - now Grace is insistent that we are all lunatics, Caelin said it was a fairy, so it's a fairy. So there. At least she listens to someone around here.

***** Caelin is settling in very nicely at her new school, and is getting used to the routine... apparently the new school has "mini sinks" in the bathroom, so all is A-OK.

Devastated

... is my daughter these last few days. On Thursday night, while we were all sleeping soundly and looking forward to Caelin's PD day on Friday, some rotten nasties broke into her school and set it on fire. A lot.

From the reports we've heard, the fire was started very close to Caelin's room, damaged about 30% of the school, and water and smoke damage to the remainder of the school means that the school is uninhabitable until (hopefully) sometime in the Spring.

My poor baby is devastated. Not only will she have to take a bus from her old school to her new school every day, in the cold cold weather, she has lost all of her stuff. All of her artwork, her supplies, everything that is *hers*. But worse, she has lost the innocence and the comfort of thinking that bad things happen to other people. She keeps asking me why someone would do this to her school, why they would do such a bad thing. I'm still working on a good answer for her, because I just don't know.

She will start at the new school tomorrow, so she will hae one more day of extra hugs, kisses, and mommy-comforting before she sees the destruction for herself. Wish us luck.

Never Fully Dressed...

... without a hat!

Sometimes it is because Mommy is just too tired to fight with a squirmy-wormy little girl with tangles in her hair and tears in her eyes.

Occasionally it is because it is cold outside and well, a hat is just Required.

But usually it is just because they are too darned cute for me to resist. Especially when they are matchy-matchy big sis/little sis hats.

Here, Caelin is showing hers off to the utmost, pretending to be a model. Which is really quite clever, since she is photographed as much as most models, anyway. Only thing missing, really, is her paycheque. Unless you count peanut butter cups as payment. Which thankfully, she does. Give it a couple years and she'll realize that the 'cups won't take her nearly as far at the mall as some cold, hard cash-er-oonie.


Gracie, on the other hand, will accept no bribe of the 'cups to look at the camera until she sees fit. Nor does she pay attention to the screaming lunatic behind the camera, simply ignoring the waving arms and calling voice as though Mommy weren't even there. This explains why most of my Gracie photos will show her looking away because sometimes, well, I just get tired of waiting and take the picture anyway.

Rhymes with Ducky

... and starts with an "F". This is Gracie's first little bad word.

The little stinker is, I am embarrassed to say, quite good at uttering it too. She mutters it just under her breath enough that she *thinks* no one hears her say it. Of course, she missed one time and said it loud, which is why now, finally, I am on to her. Who knows how long she was saying to herself before I actually figured out what the heck she was saying.

So far, at least, it is issued toward the computer, mostly, and the dog sometimes. The little angel would never think of saying it about her mother, right? Right? Damn.

Tinier Dancer

When it comes to the end of the day, all is right with the world only if "Me Too", formerly known as Grace, if she has been the equal recipient of each and every right, privilege, and candy that has been afforded to her big sister. And so, at the ripe old age of 3 years and 1 week old, Grace started her own dance lessons. And as she gleefully reminds Caelin every Saturday morning as they don their outfits, hers is FIRST.

Watching Day for Grace's class made painfully clear the reason why they ban parents from enjoying a performance every week. That reason is Grace. While she was mildly interested in the lesson, her focus was mainly on how she could turn, wave, and smile at her parents without getting in trouble from her teacher yet again.

I think MY proudest moment was when their (oh-so-patient-she-should-be-declared-a-saint) teacher asked them all to stand in a line, and they all, including Grace, stood nicely, ready to dance. Mind you, Grace was the only one facing backward. And secretly winking at Mom.
Someday, perhaps, the ballet school will kindly suggest that Grace try a more creative outlet where she can express her um, different, personality, but in the meantime, she's purty darn cute in that tutu.