Twenty Months

Here we go again.  Time for another monthly update already...

Punky is everything I anticipated she'd be at twenty months.  She's her own unique little person now, complete with likes, dislikes, and attitude.  She has perfected the art of the tantrum and has whining down to a science.  She wears me out more than ever.  But she's also a lot of fun.  If she's in the mood for fun, that is.

There are some big changes on the horizon.  This month has paved the way for the inevitable in more ways than one.  My baby is no longer a baby.

She's not so fond of her highchair these days; she'd rather sit on a bar stool at the counter and eat like a big girl (thanks to Grammy introducing her to that trick on her last visit).  I do have a booster seat in her closet that can be put on a chair at the table.  

Soon the highchair will just be another thing taking up space in this tiny house but I'm fighting it as long as possible...just because it's easier.  The highchair is confining.  She has no choice but to sit.  I can pull it into the kitchen to spare the dining room carpet when we have a messy meal.  I know she can't use it forever, but I was hoping she'd make it to two.  We'll see how long it lasts...

Then there's her crib...I don't think that is making it to two either.  She still hasn't attempted to climb out of it, but her constant jumping and flipping around in it has taken its toll.  It was my nephew's, so it was a little worn to begin with, but now it's all out of whack.  It took me a half hour the other night just to get the side down.  She has it out of square somehow.  Her dad keeps straightening it and tightening the screws, but two nights of bedtime bouncing and it's messed up again.  I'm worried the damn thing will just collapse some night.

Again, I'm trying to make it last a bit because it's easier.  The crib is confining.  She's forced to stay in one place.  She can't roll out of it and bust her face.  She can't get out of it in the middle of the night and empty the kitchen cabinets or eat stuff out of the trash.  I have absolutely no idea how I would ever get her to stay in her own bed without duct tape.  I have a feeling it won't be much longer until we have to try.

Summer is ending and I have no clue how to amuse this child during the long winter months ahead of us.  She really loves the outdoors and seems to get bored quickly with her toys in the house.  I think it would be good to get her into some kind of structured daycare for a few hours a week.  She could use more opportunities to play with other kids, but I would want to find a place where they actually teach something, rather than just letting them run around and play all day.  She loves learning new things; she'd rather play with books, blocks, and flashcards than any other toys.

Again, I'm trying to hold off a bit because it's easier.  I know, shame on me.  It's just so convenient having her at home.  It would add hours to my day if I had to wake her up in the morning, get her fed and dressed, and then drop her off before work.  I don't get home until almost six o'clock now.  Not to mention the fact that she has rarely been sick and introducing her to a daycare environment would guarantee us a multitude of doctor visits.  Maybe I'll put more serious thought into it after she turns two in December.

Another thing soon to be ending is the rear-facing car rides.  The older she gets, the longer she stays awake in the car...and the more it pisses her off that she can't see anything.  She barely made the legal front-facing weight at eighteen months, and I know it's much safer to keep her backwards as long as possible.  So, again I am trying to delay the change...but not because it's easier this time...because it's safer.  See?  I don't totally suck at this mom stuff.  It would definitely be easier to turn her but I'd rather have a cranky kid than a smushed one.  Car rides only last so long.  Smushed can be permanent. 

I want to sign us up for another swim class when it starts in the fall, and I know I won't be able to bring her home with a wet head in cold weather, so I introduced her to the hair dryer this month.  She loves it and insists I dry her hair after every bath.  And after she splashes in her pool.  And after she shakes her sippy cup and gets two drops of water on her head.

This month she learned the joys of eating watermelon on a hot summer day.  She loves it when I hand her a huge slice and let her go to town.  She's known her colors for months so it was easy for her to learn to only eat the red...not the green.  By the time she finishes, her shirt is completely soaked and her hands and face are a sticky mess but she can't get enough of it.  But then again, she can't get enough of food period these days.

I think she has entered another growth spurt.  I swear she can eat teenage boys under the table.  Tonight for dinner she had almost three pierogi's and topped it off with a cup of diced pears.  She asked for a snack not even two hours later.  I really don't know how her tiny stomach handles it, or how the hell some twelve-month pants still slide right off her little butt.  I have a whole pile of them to give away that she never even got to wear.  They are now too short in the legs even though the waist still doesn't fit her.  My little runt.

The Bark and (Almost) Bite

We got Punky her first bike last Christmas.  A tricycle, of course.  It has bars that wrap around to keep little ones from falling off, along with shoulder straps just in case.  It has a canopy roof to block the sun and a tall handle in the back so we can push it like a stroller.  I thought it would be perfect to take her for walks this spring and summer.  And when she's ready, next summer I'm sure, all the extra pieces can be removed to turn it into a plain tricycle.

We used it a lot in the spring and at the start of summer, but now Punky prefers to walk most days.  That way she is free to run ahead and pick up every stick, rock, weed, and piece of garbage along the road.  It takes forever just to walk around the loop where we live.  She runs ahead, finds something to play with, I catch up and pass her by, and then wait about twenty feet ahead of her till she finally drops what she has and then races past me again.  That's the routine when we go for a walk.

Punky's dad was off today and he brought her bike out of the shed.  It's been over a month since we last used it so in baby time it was like a brand new toy all over again.  He took her once around the loop before her nap and when I got home from work she climbed on and told me, "Walk!" as she pointed at the road.

I knew we could make it all the way around in fifteen minutes rather than the hour it takes when she walks with me.  I was tired, as usual, so this prospect made me happy.  I was definitely in more of a "sit and read books" mood so it was a nice compromise.

We got on our way and Punky pointed out all the usual stuff along the route.  The neighbor's pup, the star on the house a few doors down the road, the tent in the yard of the next house...  I was walking at a nice pace as we rounded the top of the loop and headed down the other side.  I glanced at the road ahead and my normal paranoia set in when I saw something in our path.

Bark.  Curled bark from a tree.  I have a snake phobia and right away my mind jumps to conclusions.  I scoffed at myself as I pushed her bike right over it to prove to myself I'm an idiot.  And that's exactly what I accomplished.  No doubt about it.

Bump bump went the tires over the bark.  I glanced down as the back of the bike cleared it...just in time to see the snake's head not five inches from my freakin' ankle.  I shoved the bike forward as hard as I could while simutaneously jumping backwards about six feet.  Holy shit!  I pushed my baby right over a goddamn snake!  I seriously almost had a heart attack right there on the spot!

I kept my distance as I ran past the snake and grabbed the bike...then ran like a little girl the rest of the way home.  My adrenalin was racing so I took advantage of it and got the hell out of there.  And fast. 

Punky's dad knew there was something wrong when I rounded the corner in a sprint for the finish.  He jumped off the lawn mower and met us at the edge of the yard.  Poor Punky, she had no clue what happened or why her mama was pushing her fifty miles an hour...her little head bobbing all over the place as the plastic tires tackled the gravel on the road.

I'm still totally creeped out and I know snake nightmares will plague me this week.  Chances are it was just a non-poisonous garter snake but I didn't stick around to study it.  What if that snake would've bitten her?  I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself.  Ever.  I truly am an idiot.

If there's anything to be grateful for it's that fact that her dad pulled her bike out today.  If not, she would've been running ahead of me as usual and I can't even think about what that outcome would've been.  Now I just need to muster up the courage to take her for another walk.  Winter's coming, right?  I wonder if I can hold her off until next spring...

Throwing in the Towel

I've been playing catch-up for weeks.

I got so far behind on posting when I spent every single free minute I had cross-stitching a few weeks ago.  Every time I had an idea, I would start a draft with the thought of finishing it later on when I had the time.  I've been running 10-14 days behind on average.  I managed to finish a few, and post them with the date I would have if I was able to complete them on schedule, but I just deleted the rest.  I give up; it's a race I just can't win.

Normally I have about an hour or so of "me" time every night before bed.  On the weekends, I rely on Punky's naptime to give me some as well.  I can't count on either anymore.

Pure defiance.  It's a struggle every night to get her to sleep lately, and it's not exactly a walk in the park when it comes to napping either.  I'm not sure of the root cause.  All I know is that it's cutting into the only free time I have to relax, unwind, and write.  And for the sake of my sanity, I hope it's a phase that passes quickly.

I love my little girl with all my heart and soul, but sometimes I enjoy need a few moments to just be me.  Alone.  The time spent sleeping or working doesn't qualify as "me" time.  It only counts if I'm awake, alert, and off the clock.  I wouldn't trade being her mama for anything in the world.  I can't imagine my life without her.  I can't even remember who I was before she came along and made me who I am today.  All I want is an hour now and then.  One. Damn. Hour.  Sigh.

But seriously, I really don't know what the deal is with her sleeping patterns lately.  There's rarely a night where she is asleep before eleven o'clock.  By the time she finally nods off, I drag myself right into bed.  We start the nighttime routine around nine.  She's usually in her crib within a half hour.  When she is still awake two hours later, rolling around her crib, standing on her head, getting limbs stuck between the bars, and making all kinds of noise, I want to cry.  Or scream.  Or kick something. 

I don't like to get involved with anything until I know she's asleep.  If I want to read, write, or even play a game online, it's too distracting when I have to keep getting up to make sure the loud bang I heard wasn't Punky climbing out of the crib and hitting the floor.  I am amazed that she hasn't attempted that yet.  She climbs on everything else in the house.  I guess it's only a matter of time.

She was always a good sleeper, especially a night.  I don't know if she's testing the water and pushing buttons or if she's just truly not tired.  I hope it's the first one.  The first one is likely a phase.  It can be fixed.  The second one means she is requiring less sleep as she makes her way through toddlerhood.  And mama simply isn't ready for that yet.

From Yesses to Esses to Ike

Punky's language development continues to amaze me.  I can't even begin to wrap my head around how it's even possible for a child so young to learn grammar, remember vocabulary, and understand the feelings and meanings conveyed by intonation and inflection.  It is simply fascinating.

How, for example, did she learn to recognize the change in pitch that indicates I have asked her a question?  It seems like something so subtle, yet somewhere along the way she learned that pattern and to respond with something...even if it's just a grunt.  Actually, about two months ago after asking her some mundane question and getting said grunt in return, I told her she needs to tell mama "Yes!"

Apparently she thought I meant it was the only thing she should ever say when asked a question.  For the next month, she responded with an enthusiastic "Yes!" no matter what the question.  In cases where the question was something like "Do you love mama?" it was the cutest, most wonderful thing I could ever hear her say.  But if the question was "Do you want milk or juice?" it was a bit frustrating.  And it was plain irritating when I would ask her something like "Is that ball green?" and she would tell me yes, even though she knew it was red.  Once in a while she'll shake her head no, but still doesn't say it.  Ever.  "Yes!" was recently replaced with "Okay!" so now that's the hot answer this month.  I'm sure "No!" isn't too far down on the list.  It's coming...

Another fascinating thing for me to witness has been her mastery of the letter "s"...  She knows the basics of plurals and possessives.  She learned to add the "s" if there's more than one.  No matter what the objects are, she adds it.  This will undoubtedly lead to things like deers, mouses, and gooses, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

She also knows that if something belongs to someone else, an "s" is required as well.  She knows to say "Mama's" when she points to my purse.  She knows it's "Grammy's pillow" when she's up visiting for the week.  She knows it's Daddy's truck, and she'll tell you "Ike's!

Ike.  Believe me, if I could explain it I would.  We have absolutely no idea where it came from but she's been saying it a few months now.  "Dada" is another one of those words she never learned to say.  The kid will say school bus, cracker, diaper, and even Wal-Mart...but somehow daddy has eluded her.  It must be hiding in the same corner of her brain as no...  

I think her dad was a little hurt when she first started saying it but eventually he saw the humor in it.  Lord knows calling him Ike has provided many a chuckle for others who hear her say it.  And, of course, they all want to know why.  Maybe someday she'll give us a hint, but for now it's anyone's guess.

My Dainty, Little Flower

We went to a birthday party today.  A friend of mine from work has a little girl only seven months younger than Punky.  She found out she was pregnant just two weeks before Punky's birth.  Once in a while we get together for a play date, but when they are this little the age gap seems huge.  It's narrowing with each passing day.

Anyway,  they had the party outside at a public park.  It was small, only a handful of kids.  They are in the same boat I'm in...no family in the area.  But worse even...states away rather than just hours.  It rained most of the morning and I debated going because, well, I know my child.  I didn't want us to miss out on all the fun though, especially seeing the birthday girl dig into that cake.

We were only there minutes before Punky's hands and face were sticky from bubble soap.  Within fifteen minutes she added a nice blue line of marker across her nose, lips, and chin.  A half hour in, she walked underneath a grill at the edge of the pavilion and had rust and dirt in her hair and stuck to her scalp.  Then it was time for cupcakes and ice cream which needs no further explanation.  And to top it all off, she couldn't resist a giant puddle and jumped and splashed in it at every available opportunity throughout the party.

By the time we left, she was a complete mess.  She rode home with no shoes, socks, or pants because she was soaked to the bone.  Baby wipes did nothing to remove the marker from her face but surprisingly the ice cream help cut through some of it.  I couldn't even scrape the dirt off that was stuck to her scalp.  A bath was an utter necessity that night.

I just have to mention that all the other kids at the party (aside from the birthday girl who did an amazing job devouring her cake and ice cream) remained relatively clean despite all the temptations and opportunities for messes.  Not my dainty, little flower...she never misses the chance to get filthy.  She seems to rather enjoy it.

Much Needed Mini Vacation

We headed home this past Friday night.  I snuck out of work a few hours early with the hope of keeping Punky awake during the long car ride.  Thankfully it worked because we had a lot to do once we got there.

My niece's christening was Saturday morning and her party was in the afternoon.  When we got in Friday night, I had a double batch of spinach dip to make, Punky needed a bath, and we all needed a good night's sleep for the long weekend ahead.

The christening went well.  My sister was worried if the baby would fit in the dress that she, I, and Punky all wore for our christenings.  She was older and bigger than we were for ours but it fit her just fine.  As her godmother, I got to dress her for the big event.  Her godfather helped and it went smoothly.

She was quiet and awake during the ceremony at the church.  I was most worried about how Punky would behave in that setting, but her dad kept her occupied and quiet with cheese crackers.  At this age, snacks are a handy tool for grabbing a few moments of peace.  When we were all occupied with pictures afterward, Punky had a chance to make a run for it.  The group of us looked up just in time to see her running right out the door of the church.  Four people went chasing after her.  Stinker.

On Sunday we headed to Baltimore for a mini vacation, just the three of us.  It was much needed family time.  We don't get nearly enough of it, especially with his work schedule.  We only have one weekend a month together.  He's been on this rotation for a year now and it's really starting to wear on us.

Anyway, we stayed at a nice hotel right on the Inner Harbor.  After we checked in on Sunday afternoon, we spent the rest of the day seeing the sights at the harbor.  We went up to the top of the World Trade Center and admired the views of the city and water.  We toured an old ship from the 1800's.  We took an hour boat ride with a tour group which was an amazing feat for Punky's dad.  He doesn't do boats.  Period.  When I first suggested it, he gave me a firm "no way" and kept on walking.  I was able to persuade him though, and he ended up enjoying it.

We had a nice dinner outside by the water.  It took Punky all of three minutes to figure out that dropping food on the ground instantly made pigeons appear at her feet.  From then on, it was one bite for her, one bite on the ground, one bite for her, one bite on the ground...she had a ball.  Her best source of amusement though was at the hotel itself.

And soon as we got to the room, she took one look at the two big beds and was happier than a pig in....well, you know.  She would climb up on one....jump, jump, jump...then get down and climb up on the other...jump, jump, jump...then head back to the first one.  She'd have done it all night if we let her. 

We were on the fifth floor and she was amazed by the view out the window.  She loved watching the cars and people go by below us.  Not even a hint of a fear of heights.  She sat on the air conditioning unit and pointed things out on the street.  And at night, all the city lights were fascinating.

Monday morning we had a nice breakfast and headed to the aquarium.  It was a toss up between that or the zoo.  Factoring in her age and current attention span, we knew either one would only hold her interest for long...so we chose the aquarium.  Indoors.  Out of the sun.  Air conditioned.  I had been there a few times before and knew it wouldn't take but a couple hours to get through it.

Punky seemed to really enjoy it at first, but we lost her by the half-way point.  Let's face it, fish aren't exactly the most exciting creatures on the planet.  We had to check the stoller, so I ended up carrying her on my shoulders through much of it.  Her dad tried to share the duty, but she was in mama-mode and would cry every time he took her.  Most of the rooms were dark and packed with people; I think she may have been a bit scared.  

Before leaving, we took in a dolphin show.  I thought she'd love it.  And she did for the whole combined sixty seconds or so the dolphins spent in mid air.  Jumping gets her attention and makes her giggle, no matter who or what is doing it.  She was restless while the trainers gabbed in between stunts.  Again, cheese crackers saved the day.  Well, that and flirting with the two guys behind us that kept telling her how cute she is.

We headed home after a delicious lunch at an Irish pub.  We were in Baltimore about twenty-four hours on the nose.  Not much of a vacation time wise, but enough to give us a much needed escape from daily life.  It was nice to actually talk about things other than work, bills, housework, and whether or not the baby ate, napped, and pooped that day.  Those are the only topics we seem to have time to discuss in passing.  Many days we only see each other for a few minutes.  There just isn't time for casual conversation.

We really needed to do that sort of thing more often.  For our sake, and Punky's.  Sometimes I wonder if she thinks her parents even like each other. 

Favorite Things Friday: Cross Stitch

If I had to name the one thing most I miss about my life post baby, it would be the time I used to spend cross stitching.  My Sunday morning routine used to consist of a pot of coffee, news shows, and sewing for a few hours.  Now I'm lucky to finish a single cup of coffee before it gets cold, cartoons have trumped my news shows, and cross stitching is a feat comparable to climbing Mount Everest.

It really is the oddest of hobbies for me.  Sometimes I still can't believe how much I truly enjoy it.  I never expected to, not in a million years.

Cross stitching involves a needle and thread.  That simple fact should've been enough to deter me.  Sewing is not my cup of tea.  The first day of eighth grade, when I realized protocol automatically signed me up for home economics, I marched right to the principal's office (along with three other girls) and switched classes.   Metal shop for half the year; wood shop for the other. How dare they assume that we would want to learn to cook and sew just because we're girls...

Cross stitching is crafty.  As in artsy-crafty.  As in not me at all.  I'm not the crafty, creative type. Also in eighth grade (damn, that was a rough year for me) my art teacher bluntly told me that my salt ceramic bunny was the ugliest rabbit she'd ever seen.   I can't draw.  I hate anything that involves glue, tape, or cutting straight.   Hell, at thirty-seven years old, I still don't stay in the lines when I color with Punky.

Cross stitching takes time and patience.   Let's just say patience never made my top ten list of shining qualities.   I'm not sure it even made the list at any number.  Normally I have none.  Not an ounce.  And cross stitching requires a great deal.   Maybe it helped prepare me for life with Punky because I've also been able to muster up the patience required to be a mama.   Most of the time...

About fifteen years ago, someone I worked with suggested I try cross stitching as a way to relax and de-stress.  I just laughed.  Apparently it was something she really enjoyed and she was one of those people who wouldn't let it go until I tried it.  So, I tried it...fully prepared to report how much I hated it and get her off my back.

Strange thing happened.  I didn't hate it.  I actually kind of enjoyed it myself.  It was tedious.  Monotonous.  Frustrating at times.  Finishing a single project would take forever.  Yet it was weirdly relaxing.  Almost trance inducing. It seemed to provide a steady beat...like a rhythm pulsing in the background...that actually helped me sort out my thoughts.   Put life in order. Restore a balance in the chaos.  Incredibly odd indeed.  I still haven't figured it out exactly.

Anyway, through the years I got used to spending a few hours a week, usually Sunday mornings, de-stressing with my cross stitch.  And I even managed to finish several projects and felt a sense of pride and accomplishment with each one.

When my nephew was born almost five years ago, I made him a cross stitch birth record.  A personal gift for my godson that he'd have forever.  Then my sister got pregnant again.  And I was going to have a beautiful goddaughter as well.   Can't play favorites...I needed to get stitching.

A few months would’ve been enough time to finish one under normal circumstances.   But I had one new factor in my life: Punky.  I finished my last cross stitch project about a month before Punky was born and hadn’t touched it since.  I did miss it and was really looking forward to getting back into the habit.  Making a birth record for my niece was the perfect opportunity.

Sitting and sewing for hours on end is no longer an option.  Even during her naptime on the weekends, I have other stuff to do.  Stuff that needs to be done.  And by the time she gets to sleep at night, my eyes are too tired to focus on those tiny little stitches.

I started my niece’s birth record in December, before we even knew it was a girl.  I took it to the hospital with me so I could work on it in peace while my sister was in labor.  Anyone who read that story knows how that went.  I only got to work on it about an hour.

I tried to step it up after her birth.  I had visions of finishing it about the time she entered junior high if I kept at the previous pace.  I snuck every free minute I could and set my sights on finishing it in time for her christening.

These last two weeks were rough.  I was hell bent and determined to finish in time.  I relied on Elmo videos to amuse Punky for a bit in the evening so I could work on it.  I stayed up late every night.   I even took it to work to sneak in forty-five minutes of stitching on my lunch hour.

The christening is tomorrow.  I finished about an hour ago.  Of course I still need to iron it, buy a frame, and get it in there straight.  I have that feat penciled in for the two hours between the ceremony at the church and the party in the afternoon.  But the stitching is done.  It counts.

Although it felt more like work than relaxation as I raced to finish these last few weeks, I’m anxious to start another project.  On my time though.  My very, very limited time.  But the opportunity to de-stress is one I really shouldn’t pass up if I can help it. It may take a few years to finish another one, but it’ll be worth it.

Maxed Out On Plastic

And no, I don't mean credit cards.  I haven't used those in years.  I mean the yard.  I said it was worthy of its own post. 

To the casual observer driving by, it would appear that one super spoiled kid lives here.  Our yard has become a plastic play world which surely catches the eye.  It all started innocently enough, but morphed into a huge display of brightly colored resins.  As I attempt to paint a picture, think original Crayola crayon colors...

The first piece to arrive on the scene was a turtle, the greenest of greens as you would expect.  It can serve as either a little pool or sandbox, complete with a shell-shaped lid.  Given Punky's age and fascination with water, it was only natural go with the pool route this summer.  Maybe next year we can attempt sand when she's old enough to not eat it or throw handfuls in her eyes.  Anyway, it was given to us by Punky's aunt who babysits when our shifts overlap.  She had it in her yard for years but her grandchildren have all outgrown it.  She thought Punky would enjoy it and she definitely has.  Playing in the pool has been one of the highlights of her summer.

In the following weeks, that same aunt was responsible for a few more additions she picked up at yard sales.  A big, red car was the next thing bought for Punky's amusement.  Black wheels, a tan roof, and huge flower stickers in neon colors.  It's in decent shape and Punky enjoys climbing in and out of it over and over again.  

An orange and blue slide showed up next.  She paid one dollar for it and Punky has definitely gotten her money's worth.  It took her no time at all to learn how to climb the three steps and get into position to slide down all by herself.  She loves it and uses it repeatedly every time we play outside.

Next came a merry-go-round.  Bright baby blue.  I had no idea they even made something like that for kids.  It took Punky a bit to warm up to it, but now she loves spinning around and around...I can't say the same for my lower back as I stand hunched over pushing it.

Then it was Grammy's turn to hit the yard sales.  After a trip home one weekend, I drove back with a kitchen in my trunk.  Hot pink and purple.  It has a stove, oven, microwave, fridge, dishwasher, sink...maybe three feet wide by four feet high.  Punky's a bit short and too young to really "play" with it yet, but she loves filling the compartments with sticks and rocks from the yard.

Not to be outdone, Punky's dad had the yard sale bug himself and went with my mom and Punky's uncle to a community yard sale while we were home visiting in July.  He found a picnic table, bright yellow and orange, perfect for her tiny hiney to sit and have a snack outside.

He also bought her a chalkboard, blue legs and bright yellow cross bar.  In all fairness it really could be an inside toy, but until Punky learns not to write all over everything, chalk is safer outside.  

The final piece arrived this weekend when Puny's uncle came to visit.  During that last yard sale trip, someone gave them a house.  Yep, I said a house.  And yep, I said gave them.  F-r-e-e.

Light pink with creme windows and doors and a bright blue roof.  The entire side of it swings open to create the effect of an outdoor patio.  It has two seats with a table in between.  A flap in the table opens up to reveal a highchair for a baby doll to sit and eat with Punky.  Along the opposite wall, it has a stove and sink with cabinets underneath to store stuff.  Needless to say, that wasn't fitting in my Milan.

To add it up, this rainbow playland cost less than twenty dollars in all.  Anyone who has ever priced this kind of stuff has got to understand what an incredible bargain that is.  So while it appears to the passerby that we've spent tons of money and spoiled her rotten, the opposite is true and she'd never have all these things if we had to buy them new.  We couldn't afford it.

I'm grateful that everyone thinks of her, and I can't thank them enough for providing so many fun things to play with all summer, but if one more huge chunk of plastic appears in this yard...

We're maxed out.  We have no place to store most of it come winter.  A few things can be brought in the house, like the kitchen and chalkboard, but we don't have much space inside either.  Tiny house.  No garage.  No basement.  

It looks like most of it will end up behind the house covered with tarps and buried with snow.  Hopefully it weathers the storm to once again turn our side yard into a colorful plastic wonderland come spring.  I can't imagine looking out the window and only seeing grass.  And I'm sure I won't for many more years to come.