Who's Your Mama?

As of late I've been having an identity crisis of sorts. Taylor has now decided that she and every other female on the planet besides me is "mama." Nowadays when you ask Taylor, "Where's mama?" She pats herself on the chest and very proudly says, "Mama!" She totally knows that Jody is Dada, and believe me when I say that we have worked with her a LOT on who's who around here. For some reason she still hasn't made the connection that I'm "mama," not her. Or anyone else for that matter; Stacy came by the other night and Taylor pats Stacy on the chest and says sweet as can be, "Mama!" Oh hell no! Not that I'm offended in the traditional sense, my response was more along the lines of, "Ok, if she's Mama, then why in the hell did I have to be pregnant for nine months? This is a bunch of crap!"

Nonetheless, she continues to grow and learn every day, she's almost got this walking thing down, she just has to gain a little confidence (aka - let go of the grown-up that she's been dragging around the house's finger), and REALLY learn to take her time and watch where she's going. We still take a lot of tumbles, and inevitably, when I blink for a split second, the kid's on her back or taking a face dive. In unrelated news, Taylor found my hair brushes tonight and decided to show me her mad hairstyling skills.

Taylor has discovered my drawer of hair brushes and hair accessories. At least she put down a deposit for the brushes - if you look very closely in the drawer you will see her Cinderella-head sippy cup.

Look! I can brush my hair all by myself (translation: I can damn near beat myself on the head with this brush hard enough to cause a concussion.)

Just because you keep pointing that thing at me does not mean I'm going to smile.

Oh, what the hell! I'm too cute to deprive the world of my happy face!