"Big Girl" Room

We didn't really decorate Savannah's room when we moved to Canada, so we thought her fourth birthday was a good excuse to create a "big girl" room. We bought new bedding at Target last weekend and I spent most of this weekend creating a myriad of nick-nacks to hang on her walls. While I'm not completely finished, I must say that I like where it's headed!

Bookends and a pillow sham.

Her name decoupaged on wooden squares... and some hand-painted flowers!

Wooden picture frames that I covered with fabric.

I'll add B&W pictures and collage them on the wall.

A plain ole wooden mirror, spiced up a bit!

Pottery Barn, beware! : )

1... 2... 3... 4!!!

My sweet little Savannah turned four last week. Yes, four! I'm still trying to figure out how that happened... and how to stop time right in this instance so she'll stay cute and sweet forever. We spent the weekend in Michigan, so we didn't really have a birthday party for her. But we all woke up early so she could open presents before she went to school, then we met some friends for lunch on Saturday where she got more presents, and then our friends had a cake and sang "Happy Birthday" to her at their party Saturday night. It was a birthday weekend for her... one in which we constantly heard "I'm the birthday princess" or "it's MY birthday". Cute.

Four seems to be a magical number for Savannah...

She rationalizes things and gives explanations for her actions: For example, she had a potty accident as she was leaving day care on Friday afternoon. When Todd asked her why, she said "my pee pee in my butt was talking to me and telling me it needed to come out. I told it to wait, but it didn't listen." Totally logical to a 4-year-old... and a perfect explanation that she tried to not wet her pants.

She threatens when you don't do what she wants: "Daddy, you're not listening to mommy so you're going to lose priviledges" and "Well I want to watch Dora and you won't let me, so I'm gonna tell on you." Okay, thanks Savannah, but I'm the mommy and I make the rules!

She stopped wetting the bed overnight. Literally. I'm not sure why this surprises me, because she stopped her pacifiers cold-turkey when she turned three. But she went from having a pull-up that weighed 15 pounds in the morning because it was soaking wet to wearing big-girl underwear that stay completely dry. In the week since she stopped wearing pull-ups to bed, she's only had one tiny accident at night.

When we tell her we're proud of her for doing something, her immediate response is "it's because I'm four... and four is big." She's so excited to be four... so proud of her four-year-old self... so independent... so stinkin' smart... and so cute!

Savannah, my sweetpea, you never cease to amaze me. You are the light of my life and a true joy to be around! While you still have many moments of whiney toddler behavior, you really are becoming such a big girl. You are as sweet as pie and the world's biggest cuddler. You give hugs and kisses freely and randomly throughout the day. Your laughter is contagious. You are smart, so smart! You're about to spend three weeks away from mommy and daddy, but you seem thoroughly thrilled to share your love with family in Georgia and Florida. You've made new friends quickly and are becoming less shy. You love making jewelry with beads and reading books, and you're even starting to enjoy playing with your baby dolls. Anything Dora or Diego is still thoroughly entertaining to you. You carry on normal, grown-up conversations on the phone with your Grandmere and your Grampa. You love wearing dresses... every day it's a dress! You are such a blessing in my life and I'm so grateful to have you. Happy 4th Birthday, princess!

Dear Ole Dad

Is it strange that I find Father's Day one of the most difficult holidays to be away from home? I do. In fact, I would gladly give up every other holiday, and the days off work that go with them (!), if I could spend Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Father's Day at "home" with my family.

I don't think Father's Day has always been an incredibly special day to me. In fact, I think it was always more of a Hallmark holiday than anything. Sure, we'd tell Dad "Happy Father's Day". And we'd recognize all the daddies at church on Sunday morning. And we likely made him gifts in school or scouts or something. And he'd get the obligatory card and some kind of little gift. But that was it. Father's Day never came with the fanfare that seems to accompany Mother's Day. Dad didn't get breakfast in bed or a special dinner out or a day to do whatever he wanted. He spent Father's Day just like every other Sunday; reading the Funnies, going to church, napping in his La-Z-Boy, mowing the lawn, cooking dinner.

Then again, I don't think my Daddy is the average dad... He never wanted the special recognition. He does his job as "dad" because he loves it. He doesn't do it to get praised or rewarded; he doesn't do it to earn a new tie every year; he doesn't do it to be pampered for one day. My Daddy is the dad he is because he loves it. My Daddy loves being a dad. And he is one of the sweetest men you will ever meet; that is a fact! I live 1100 miles from my Daddy, yet he would drop everything in a heartbeat if he knew I needed him. Similarly, he would give you the shirt off his back if he knew that's what you needed. He's caring, compassionate, selfless, and loyal. He's the go-to guy for a lot of people and carries that load with joy. I've never met a person that didn't love my Daddy... because there's nothing not to love.

I've always been a Daddy's Girl. Always. And that's something that is never going to change. I may look an awful lot like my mother, but my personality is that of my Daddy. And, even more, my heart is that of my Daddy. My Daddy is the one that taught me to love... whole-heartedly, unabashedly, without hesitation. He's the one that taught me to be passionate in everything I do. He's shown me that life isn't always easy but you'll always come out on top if you let your heart lead the way. My Daddy is my biggest cheerleader, constantly reminding me that I'm a strong woman that can accomplish anything I put my heart into. My Daddy's encouragement when I was younger truly laid the foundation for the woman I've become today. Though it was routine for me to make good grades, he continually acknowledged and appreciated my success... though I was always on the go, he never hesitated to rearrange his schedule so I could get to yet another activity I wanted... though I wore my heart on my sleeve, he was always there to wrap his arms around me and comfort me when my heart was hurting. He never missed a softball game, a football game, a spelling bee... he took me to every flute lesson, cheerleading practice, and bible study... he packed my lunch, cooked my dinner, and kept pop-tarts on hand... he loved my friends as much as he loved me and always kept our door open... he reminded me that, though society often thinks otherwise, being female is not a fault or a hinderance... he encouraged me to spread my wings, follow my dreams, and be my own me.

When I got married, I downright refused to have a Father-Daughter dance at my reception. It wasn't even a point of discussion, it just wasn't going to happen. I nearly broke down when I was all dolled up and saw my Daddy for the first time, knowing he was about to walk me down the aisle, give me away, and ship me off to Michigan. There's no way I would have survived that dance. And that's why I did it. It's selfish, I know, but it was my wedding and I didn't need any more emotion than I already had. If a song had started playing and the whole world was watching my Daddy dance with me, I would have become a basketcase... worse yet, I think my Daddy would've too. I think it hurt him that he didn't get that opportunity, but I think he also understands why. When my cousin got married in November, my aunt tried to get me to dance with my Daddy during one of the sweet little songs... and I still couldn't do it... a full five and a half years after my wedding and I still couldn't dance with my Daddy! Maybe I'll have the courage to do it at my brother's wedding in April?!

My heart belongs to my Daddy. I'm the girl that cried for days when my Daddy left Michigan after moving me up six years ago... I'm the girl that wanted nothing more than to share her newborn baby daughter with her Daddy, so she could be loved the way I am loved... I'm the girl that dreads saying "goodbye" to my Daddy at the end of every visit Home and still cries when I leave... I'm the girl that refuses to turn off the radio when "Butterfly Kisses" or "My Little Girl" is playing, even though I'm blubbering like an idiot... I'm the girl that will never be too grown-up to call her Daddy in tears... I'm the girl that can never have too many hugs from her Daddy or tell him "I love you" too often... I'm the girl that will conspire with relatives and devise a plan to spend Christmas with my Daddy, without him knowing until I'm already in town on Christmas Eve... I'm the girl that knows no physical gift will ever mean as much to my Daddy as my love... I'm the girl that can sit in a room with my Daddy, completely quiet, just happy knowing he's there... I'm the girl that still misses her Daddy, even though I've been away for six years and have a family of my own... I'm the girl that will call my father "Daddy" until I'm 112... I'm the girl that will always think that no other man can fill my Daddy's shoes.

My Daddy is a man of honor. A man of passion. A man of courage. My Daddy is my stronghold. My role model. My hero. I admire him beyond words and cherish him with my all. And, no matter what, I will always be his Little Girl.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you!!

From A to Zed?!?

Do me a favor y'all... sing the Alphabet Song. Go ahead. Sing it.

If it makes you feel any better, I'll sing it with you.

Ready. Set. Go!

A-B-C-D-E-F-G... H-I-J-K-LMNOP... Q-R-S... T-U-V... W-X... Y-Zed.

Ha! Gotcha! You heard me, I said "Zed". Betcha didn't see that coming, now did ya?!

Where is this coming from, you ask? Well... we went to Orientation last Thursday night for Junior Kindergarten. Yes, my little sweetpea will be starting full-day, lunchbox and backpack, flashcards and library cards, mommy-can't-walk-her-inside-the-classroom, big-kid-school JUNIOR KINDERGARTEN in September. September! Three months from now. Did I mention that it's in a big kid school where she'll be the littlest kid? And did you hear the part where they told me I was forbidden from dropping her off inside the classroom, that I just have to leave her at the curb with one of the aides?! September. Three months. My baby. Real school. Where did the time go?!

I digress.

As I was saying, we were at Orientation last week. One of the dads asked a teacher for clarification on the last letter of the alphabet.

Excuse me? Clarification? It's the freakin' alphabet... it's the same everywhere.

WRONG!

The answer I heard come out of that teacher's mouth was "well, Americans say Z but Canadians say Zed. It's Zed. Always Zed." And that's the point where I packed up Savannah's stuff, grabbed her by the wrist, and made a run for the nearest exit! Oh, I kid. We didn't really run away... instead I raised my hand and asked if it would be okay for Savannah to say "Z" because we ARE American.

Seriously. I did.

Orientation was setup in four different rotations. In the first rotation, we learned about the school's reading program. Impressive. Really impressive. I think I like the Canadian school system. The second rotation was play-doh fun. It also happens to be the rotation where the letter "Zed" first made its appearance. Strike One against the grand ole Canadian school system! The third rotation was a cut-and-paste center, where Savannah absolutely amazed me by writing her name. Y'all, she WROTE her name. We've been trying to draw the letter S for months, to no avail... but she learned. And she's proud. And let me tell ya, that child has one LONG name. The fourth and final rotation was an alphabet center. This station was particularly enjoyable because we got to meet Savannah's JK teacher... the hyperactive, child-loving, crazy but passionate Mrs H that will shape our little one's first year in "real" school. This is also the station where I decided I will never again sing the Alphabet Song...

Y'all, "Zed" does not rhyme with "Vee"... it just doesn't. And the Alphabet Song doesn't sound right when it doesn't rhyme... it just doesn't. And I can't bring myself to sing "X-Y-Zed"... I just can't. By those little pre-JK kids did it. Every single one of them sang "X-Y-Zed" instead of "X-Y-Z", even my sweet Savannah. And a cried a little tear.

Apparently this is just the beginning of the confusion for my sweet little S. First it's "Zed". Then it's that stinkin' extra "U" in words like "colour" and "favourite". Next it will be "Oh Canada" instead of the "Star Spangled Banner". Dare I mention that she's decided she wants a brown and white kitty named "Vlinter"... except we live in Canada, so it will have to be "Vlintre"?! Someone rescue my poor multi-national child!!

M-Train!!

I did it and I'm not ashamed. :) My fellow Georgia Tech alums are likely the only ones that will understand, but this video is freakin' hilarious!!

P.S.

I saw this dress at Ann Taylor in Vegas this week and I. Must. Have. It. Period. The end. No questions asked.

However, since the fashion goddesses at Ann Taylor have yet to break ground in Canada, it looks like I have to wait until we're in Michigan in two weeks... because I don't do online purchasing of clothes. Sorry Charlie. Must try on first. So I will wait. And want. And drool over this:



And if that isn't as cute on me as it is on this sweet little model (which is likely to be the case), the maybe I'll buy this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or maybe all of them! Rest assured, I will not leave Michigan empty-handed.

I told you I have an addiction...

Fashion Fiesta!!

So I don't usually do these little Mr Linky, bloggy tour things. I just don't. It's not my M.O. But this time, I have something to say...

Hi. I'm Aleesha. And I'm addicted to clothes. It's true. And I have pictures to prove it. If I pass an Ann Taylor or H&M, I break out in hives if I don't go in. No lie. I MUST have it.

Big Mama wanted to know what we all wear on a daily basis... what's our uniform... what piece of clothing we can't live without.

This is my closet. Just for clarification, I'm supposed to share it with Todd. And I do... he gets 1/5 and I get the rest... that's fair, right?! :)

What do I wear? Two words: Black pants. They're my staple. And while I'm sure people think I never do any laundry, I really do own enough pairs of black pants to go the entire week without doing laundry. That's just sad.

I wear them with cute little short-sleeved shirts, ya know, in the 4 months out of the year where there's not snow on the ground...

I wear them with 3/4-sleeve shirts when it's supposed to be Spring but really isn't...

I wear them with sweaters and hoodies in the winter; i.e. October - May. And I own more hoodies than any warm-blooded gal from Georgia should!

But I don't just wear black pants. The Southern part of me loves skirts. Wait, that's not the Southern part of me... that's the SHORT part of me. I love skirts because I don't have to hem them. Can someone please explain to me how it's possible to be 5'4 and still have to hem petite pants?! So skirts it is! And I get a lot of funny looks because I wear skirts even in the winter, with 184 inches of snow on the ground. Look at these... can you picture how cute they are with tights and tall boots?!

I tried to see if I could figure our a way to take a picture of all of my skirts, but I couldn't do it. Y'all, I own 29 skirts. TWENTY-NINE. I just counted. Twice. Because I didn't believe myself. I have purchased nearly all 29 of those skirts in the last 18 months. Oops.

If I'm not at work and it is again sometime in the October-to-May-this-winter-will-never-end timeframe, then I'm likely wearing this exact outfit. It's yoga pants and the world's softest hoodie. Oh, and did y'all know that you can buy Yoga Pants at Ann Taylor?! You can. I swear. I did it. And now I proudly wear them every where. Grocery store. Wal-Mart. Walking the dog. On a flight cross-country with my boss. With no makeup. And a ponytail. Classic.

And shoes, we mustn't forget the shoes! This is my shoe closet. It's one of the three closets in the house that stores my shoes. It's a difficult decision every morning, it really is. I'm in love with ballet flats. I know, I know... there's some rule out there about little short people like me not wearing ballet flats, but I say phooey to that. They're comfy. And cute. And they come in such fabulous patterns!

So that's my closet... err, closetS! And that's my wardrobe. Nothing terribly thrilling. But cute. And comfy. And very interchangeable.

One more note: I hate jeans. I despise them. They are of the devil. I'm too short. And too curvy. And I refuse to get jeans hemmed. But I do own two pairs. And on the rare occassion of all my yoga pants being in laundry, you might just spot me wearing this:

Look at that concentration! And yes, it's jeans. And a hoodie. And curly hair because it's raining. And bare feet because... well, I know it's cold out, but my little tattoo hasn't healed yet.

Happy Fashioning!!