The Scarlett Letters: The Third Birthday

On September 24th you will officially be Three Years Old.


Man alive.


It really is insane how quickly time passes when you're watching your baby grow up.


This past year has been filled with some amazing moments... and some incredibly challenging ones. So, Scarlett, here is a glimpse of YOU becoming a three year old ...




1. You love to play outside and get FILTHY. And I mean  F  I   L   T   H   Y.  Like, 'dumping dirt over your head, scraping what's left of your fingernails deep into the earth, filling your shoes and socks with pebbles and sand' filthy.

2. You're kinda fresh. You love the word, "no" and will use it as many times as you see fit. If I say something is black, it's white to you. You're stubborn as the day is long. Your mind is made up about everyyyyyyyyyyyyything and there's no changing it. You cannot be fooled. You cannot be bribed. You're a know-it-all. If I say, "go put on your shoes" you come back with, "they're not shoes, they're sandals." Your personality is incredible. You're a funny little character. You always have people laughing... you're my little scamp.

3. You watch a little too much Peppa Pig and may or may not be developing a British accent. You say things like, "This is an ice-lolly" when it's clearly a popsicle. You call a flashlight a torch and vacation a holiday. I'm trying to rectify the situation but you just love that show. Meanwhile you're turning into a mini Madonna with that accent.

4. You repeat things that your pregnant mommy shouts in anger at the dog. Most begin with the letter F.

5. Bedtime is a big ole game to you. As you settle into bed you love to have your routine which goes something like this:
I grab a tissue and we blow the noses of five of your stuffed animals. I then kiss those animals. I kiss and hug you. We do Eskimo-noses. You ask me a question. You tell me a secret by whispering nothing and then I have to come up with some crazy statement that you may have used as a secret. Sometimes my statement is unacceptable. We do that about seven to ten times as I inch my way out the door trying to distract you with, "ok, goodnight, love you"s. IF you are satisfied with our ritual you will play with your little animal friends for about an hour to an hour and a half before falling asleep. If our routine was unsatisfactory you will cry, whine and scream for the same amount of time.

6. You still have your favorite foods: Peanut butter and jelly, scrambled eggs, fruit, yogurt, cereal and soup. You are branching out more by saying, "surprise me!" when asked what you'd like for a meal. Chicken quesadillas are becoming a fast favorite.

7. You absolutely LOVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVE kitties. All things kitty. Your hands are kitties at times. You meow all the time. You become a kitty when you're threatened (which by the way is going to get you nowhere).

8. You get pissed. A lot. You're way of dealing with being frustrated is to cram your hand down your throat until you gag, blow your nose in your hand and bang your head on the floor. Daddy and I basically tell you how ridiculous you look and you get over it.

9. You love story time and are currently obsessed with The Little Critter Collection. I read all seven stories pretty much every night.

10. You are finally letting go and allowing yourself to be more silly. I used to call you "Scarlett P. Keaton" (remember Alex from Family Ties? Really showing my age here). You would never dance around with me or Daddy, you'd look at us like we were nuts - kinda the same way an eighty-seven year old man might look at a saggy-jeaned wanna-be thug. Lately, however, you've been dancing around with us - or by yourself, it's refreshing.

You are really a delightful little girl, so very special to all who know you. Sure, you are very challenging, but I don't think there's a three year old out there who isn't. You are smart as a whip and funny as they come. We are really looking forward to seeing you slide into the 'big sister' role.

May God bless you, sweet Scarlett. Happy third birthday to you!

"just one more and that's it"

Bedtime. It's been quite an evolution.

Naturally, when Scarlett was a baby getting her to bed was a piece of cake. Before the mattress was lowered I was able to gently rest her peaceful body in the crib without waking her. She had two or three plush friends to keep her company but her crib was for sleeping. Those were some short-lived nights.

As time moved forward the crib mattress was lowered. It finally became so low that instead of placing Scarlett carefully into softness I was basically dropping her down with a plop. I explained my challenges, apologized for my height and my T-Rex arms. She didn't seem to care either way. And one day soon it wouldn't matter how she was placed into that crib because she would rise immediately to jump and protest rest.

At present time there are fourteen stuffed friends in her crib. I know this because after placing four blankets on Scarlett (and describing each blankets' origin - i.e. "this is the one that Mama used to take to work" or "this one is from Auntie Kyndra and Gloria") I am to count the plushies as I toss each one in the crib while she makes the animal's sound and gives them a kiss. This comes after reading anywhere from four to eight books and singing up to ten songs. There is always the plead of, "just one more and that's it!" Be it a book or a song. And if I give in to that one there is always another request on deck. This happens every night at bedtime. She tries to incorporate this seemingly never-ending routine at 'nap' time (which, I should mention, is the time when Scarlett puts on a Broadway show rather than sleeps) but I pleasantly refuse. We still launch the blankets and animals but we skip the twenty-five minutes of books and songs. After all, I need to rest my voice for later.

About seventy percent of the time Scarlett still cries when I leave the room. She has been known to cry out, "sing Show Me The Way To Go Home and that's it!" as I'm descending the stairs. Or, "Mama, I need to sing 'funny Frosty'!" (Funny Frosty is a version of Frosty the Snowman where I change the words and she corrects me). I am convinced that she would hold me hostage until midnight if she could just figure out how.

God, I love her.

who falls asleep THAT quickly??

image source

It's 9pm in the Leach home. The baby is (on average) still yappin away in her crib, playing with Minnie and Blue, Blankie and Bunny. Gregg is working feverishly at his pre-bed routine of brushing his teeth, getting his clothes and work things ready for 4am and taking the dog outside for his last whiz. What am I doing you ask? Easy. I'm capping off the night with an episode of Roseanne to lull me to sleep with its dreamy harmonica theme and her angelic cackle. Seriously, I watch Roseanne nearly every night.

I arrange my three pillows (none of them worth a damn) in the most beneficial way for Roseanne-viewing. I set my phone to vibrate, throw on some chapstick, slather on some lotion and hit that sack. Gregg follows suit shortly, grumbling about how the dog is an asshole and was too preoccupied with the rabbit in the yard to pee and how he better not wake him up at 3am. I giggle as I throw the queen of spades in a rousing game of Crazy Eights on my phone. Take THAT computer competitor. 

Roseanne and her family do their job - making me laugh and forget my troubles. I rotate four seasons on DVD so I don't get too bored but yes, there are episodes that even the most die-hard of fans has to pass on. Like the Broadway style fantasy episode. Ugh, just a horrible idea.

Gregg hits the pillow with one eye on the TV. After a little of our goofball-slapstick comedy he says "G'nite!" He turns toward me and shuts his eyes. I glance at the clock. Within two minutes I hear him breathing heavier. His nose-breath is basically punching me in the face. I flip my pillow up higher to block it. He is asleep already!! How on earth can anyone fall asleep so quickly??? I bring this up to him on a regular basis. YES, of course I realize how physically exhausting his job is and further recognize the fact that I couldn't do that work for five minutes. But ohhhhh how nice it would be to rest my mind and fall asleep in just a couple of minutes. The minute I hit my pillow it's like my mind drinks a pot of black coffee and gets on the treadmill...

...Ugh, I forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer. And what the hell are we going to have with it anyway? Sweet potatoes I guess. If they aren't covered in sawdust from the broken track on that stupid drawer above. Gotta get that frigging drawer fixed! Can I do it myself? I don't know how to replace a track. Forget it. I'll just move the potatoes. Did I write down my dentist appointment? Is that next week or THIS week? I love my new toothbrush. And those floss pick things. My teeth are in great shape, the dentist is gonna have to admit it. Shit, I didn't get so-and-so's birthday gift yet maybe I can find something at Target I think I have wrapping paper but I should get some anyway so I don't run out. And a bow. I have to call Cox. I have to call Allstate. I have to call MetLife. I need to mail so-and-so's card tomorrow. Did I take my plants in? It's pouring out. My plants are dead. Great. Well they never stood a chance anyway. I should make eggs for the baby in the morning she hasn't had them in a while. Nah, she doesn't even eat them anymore she just throws them to the dog. She can have a waffle and yogurt. We need waffles, I have to write that on the list. Should I go to the market in the morning or wait until the weekend? Oh my God Hannibal is on tonight! She needs to take at least a 45 minute nap tomorrow so I can watch it. 

And on and on and on and on and on ... 

So, kudos to you, Gregg Leach, and all who are like you. Sleep on with your powerful nostril breath and your quick REM achievement, you lucky bastards.