Let us pray.

Hi!

Nora's a really good little kid. I feel like I haven't been blogging about her as much as I used to- back in the days of first food, first sounds, first episode of The Office- because she's always just around. Being cool. Sure, she's in the stories a ton, but hasn't gotten a ton of solo press lately. So here's what's up with the biggie little in the house:

-Anytime I've helped one of my kiddos out on the potty, she toddles in and points to them and then herself. She then pats her bum and says "Dipe." THIS IS AWESOME. As anyone who's ever tried to train a kid to use a toilet well knows- Obstacle One is getting them to realize where they should pee. And not pee, so much.

-This kid needs a ton of alone time. Not that I blame her. I feel like I'm forever hoisting her into the car for work, appointments, and errands. So when she gets to choose, she's happiest in a tiny nook of her own making, turning the pages of board books. This can go on for a while. You know what else can go on during this time? Showers, meal preparation, towel naps...

-We've had bedtime rituals since day one, and no one knows them better than Miss Bossy Britches. Right before bed, I hug her and hand her to P.J. for The Final Countdown. We always say "Goodnight Nora/Goodnight Mommy/Goodnight Stairwell", etc., etc. (I am NOT kidding. It can take an hour.) The other night, right after the hand-off, she leaned back over to me with an 'mmm' for a kiss. On her own volition. (Without me badgering her- "Kiss Mommy goodnight, gimme a kiss. Kiss kiss, Nora." She never had. But I wouldn't kiss me either with that kind of pressure.) The point is, she did it. And I almost peed, I was so excited. (That would've put the kibosh on further kissing, no?)

So why all the NJ love? Cinchy.

I am trying to convince the cosmos of how much I adore my child. That way, they can return the favor just in time for our upcoming flight tomorrow morning; in the form of a docile child, speedy flight, and the safe arrival of every single thing and person aboard- with nary a threat of someone riding the wing.

Here are the items that I have packed in our carry-on as a) a mother, b) a nanny, c) a savvy passenger, and d) a person whose first rodeo this AIN'T:

-Enough diapers/medicine/wipes/ointment/sanitizer/tissues/bibs/placemats to catch/clean/treat the bodily functions of eight children twice her size.
-Seven books (my hope is that by the time she gets to the last book, she'll have forgotten all about the first one.)
-One baby doll named Dot.
-One frog named Doc (her syllables are shockingly similar- but those in the know can tell the vast difference between a cry for Doc and Dot.)
-Snacks in a Snak-trap, snacks in a baggie, snacks in their sealed packages, bananas.
-Milk that I've been assured will not be thrown away at the security checkpoint- but which, come on, will.
-Two episodes of something or other concerning baby animals.
-Stickers/paper/crayons/packaging of the stickers (it's all about buying time, people.)
-A toy cell phone with which she'll happily play and then demand...
-...My cell phone.

And if all goes according to plan, we will be on the plane for a little less than two hours.

Pray for us, St. Christopher. Pray for us, United Airlines. Pray for us, Patron, patron saint of miniature liquor bottles.

I probably need a few more stickers.