Dictator, in a Nutshell
So, that’s three times now that I’ve received this ask:
Each tagged person must post ten things about their child(ren). You have to choose and tag ten people. Go to their blogs and tell them you tagged them.
Without further adieu, ladies, behold the Dictator:
- She has the smelliest feet I’ve ever come across on a little person. Seriously. They rival her father’s.
- We constantly have to tell her to back away from the TV. I guess Disney movies look better three inches from the screen.
- The only way she’d sleep as an infant was super tightly swaddled. It’s a far cry from the three-foot-tall person who can somehow take up most of a king-sized bed today.
- She has the same personal space issues that I have, unless you’re on her list of people she really, really likes
today. And that list changes frequently and without warning.
- She gives the fiercest, best hugs ever. And she pats you on the back while she does it.
- She also gives the most fear-inducing stink-eye I’ve ever encountered. You do not want to be on the receiving end of one of those.
- Her PMS-worthy mood swings earned her the nickname Bi-Polar Baby when she was six months old. We still call her that. Just not to her face (see #6).
- Her favourite things, hands down, are puzzles. I’m pretty sure that if the Husband and I ever wanted to get away for the weekend, we could set her up with a few puzzles and some chicken fingers, and she wouldn’t even notice that we were gone.*
- She greets her best buddy from next door with a hug every time she sees her, even if that’s multiple times each day.
- We didn’t meet until she was four days old, and although I would never take those four days away from her birthparents, I wish I’d had them too.
*We shouldn’t actually do this, right CFS?
“Here are the rules:
Each tagged person must post ten things about themselves. You have to choose and tag ten people. No tag backs.”
—maggiemakeslightYou don’t really want to know ten more things about me, do you? Luckily I’m an exceptionally interesting person… (“Exceptionally” means “not at all”, right?)
- I have a birthmark on my throat, right in the hollow of my collarbone. Growing up, kids always thought it was a hickey, and grownups always thought it was a tracheotomy scar.
- I wear heels until I’m walking on the pins. I don’t know why I do this, because it costs roughly $7 to have them repaired.
- My trucker’s mouth is vaguely impressive, and I kind of mourn the fact that I have to tone it down lest the Dictator repeat it in front of her grandparents.
- I’ve taken more than 12,000 photographs in the 3+ years that I’ve had my camera. She’s served me well, but I would really like to upgrade.
- I wish I had the balls/money to quit my job, develop my photography skills, and making a living doing what I love.
- I could survive on cheese, bread and wine. I should probably go to France.
- I hate being called Mommy. It’s Mama or bust.
- I felt really guilty after reading a tonne of posts from people who wanted to spend their Mother’s Days with their families and truly enjoyed doing so. I just wanted my family to go out without me so I could have the house to myself for an entire day.
- I got over my guilt pretty quickly, because
not so deep down, I realize that I’m fully entitled to some alone time now and then.
- I rock at Scrabble. Just ask shenanigansandbookshelves. If she says otherwise, she’s lying.
