It's What She Does

When you are two, you are on observation mode. You notice everything! It only takes seeing or hearing something once to make an impression, so imagine what happens when you see something over and over each and every day. If you are Lawson, what happens is you craft your first sentence. After hearing Naomi, or "Num Num" as Lawson calls her, loudly poop in her diaper a few billion more times than I would have opted for, he proudly proclaimed, "Num poo poo!!!". He called it right on! Pooping is what she does. As well as farting and burping louder than your average frat boy. I'm a proud mama! Lawson has followed that first sentence up with a few others, such as "Hey you!" and "Hi Dadda!" but it's hard to beat "Num poo poo!".

Speaking of Naomi and poop... I've got you on the edge of your seat now, I'm sure. I've fondly referred to the tuft of hair that sticks straight up on the back of her head as her "poof". Well, Lawson is also quite amused at her hair standing on end and decided to tell me about it the other day. He giggled, pointed and did his best to say "poof". Essentially he pointed at her and said "poop". Almost as cool as when he told the nurse that was discharging us from the hospital after I had Naomi that his little sister's name was "dirt". Let the name-calling begin! Anyway, seeing that "poof" is way too similar to "poop", we've moved on to calling it her "fluff". I'm actually going to be really sad when her hair is long enough to weigh it down. I love her fluff and I love Lawson coming over and patting it while saying "ooohhhhh" the way an old woman squeezing baby cheeks might say "ooooohhh".

The fluff in all it's glory!

I'm also saying "ooooohhh" a lot myself these days! As in OH, MY!!! I am attempting to settle back into a mess of a house! The upstairs is still essentially ripped apart, minus the kitchen, and the downstairs is a mess. I have yet to unpack my suitcase full of maternity clothes for lack of a place to put them. I have yet to unpack my regular clothes from their storage container for lack of being able to fit into them and I currently have a handful of clothes that fit thrown in a pile that I rifle through to get dressed 50 times a day as I get milk, spit up, pee or poop on me. It's my worst nightmare. I want to get organized SO badly, but it is a very slow process. If I'm lucky, I may have it under control by the week's end. I also have a couple of weeks worth of obsessive picture taking to sift through and organize. We'll see if that gets accomplished anytime soon. I'm having a hard enough time organizing my thoughts and finding the words I'm looking for due to exhaustion. I dream about sleep often during the day to make up for the lack of dreams and sleep during the night.

And now it seems that Dirt, I mean, Naomi is done with her dreaming and is demanding I fill her up for the next Num poo poo, so I'm off to feed her and dream about the sleep I didn't get last night and pat her back until she belches loud enough to make Lawson's jaw drop...