Put me in coach

Jeremy has big plans for Maribelle to become a lacrosse player. Nevermind that neither of us have ever played the sport and don't know the first thing about its rules or strategy. It just sounds cool and can guarantee you a college scholarship around here if you're any good.

However if Grandpa A. has any say in the matter, Maribelle will be wielding a glove and batting cleanup. Softball runs in Amero blood, as all four of us girls have spent the greater part of our youths on the softball field. I started as a six-year-old Little League mushball player and played through my senior year, spending time behind the plate as catcher and in the field at first base. My dad has been coaching softball ever since I can remember and is going on 25 years at the helm of countless (let me repeat, COUNTLESS) softball teams. This weekend, Maribelle got her first taste of the Amero tradition as one of Grandpa's teams played a college showcase here in Maryland. And of course, it was a family affair as Aunt Tara saw action from second base, and Aunt Laura called pitches from the sidelines.

With her long legs and fiesty attitude, all bets are on Maribelle playing short-stop. Or, maybe just becoming a ballerina.

A check-up to remember .... or forget

Maribelle had her 18-month checkup today, and to put it mildly, it didn't go swimmingly. In fact, I'm already feeling anxiety about future doctor's visits with Maribelle in tow. It was bad, people ... bad with a capital B-A-D.

The minute we entered the pediatrician's office, Maribelle started to lose it. She clung to my legs, wouldn't say her usual "hi!" to anyone around us, and started clutching and whining uncontrollably. Then, when they called her name and we headed to the exam room, she completely flipped her little toddler lid. Com-plete-ly. We're talking back arching, head shaking, crying so hard and uncontrollably that it sounded like she was hyperventilating, and literally CLINGING to me for dear life. And she just kept wailing "mommy, mommy, mommy!!!!!!!!!!!!" This was all before the nurse could even attempt to take her temperature! The weight and height they recorded for her are a complete joke. Maribelle wouldn't even let me place her on the scale, let alone let go of her, and pinning her down on her back for a height measurement was basically a midget wrestling match (which probably explains why she slipped from the 50th to 25th percentile in weight, and climbed from the 50th to 75th-90th percentile in height. There's no way they got an accurate reading). I, my friends? Was heartbroken, and all I wanted to do was bolt out the door and whisk away my little babe, especially knowing that the minute she calmed down, someone would be right around the corner waiting to stick her with a needle. I had never in my life seen Maribelle react that way -- so hysterical and genuinely scared.

She eventually calmed down once the nurse left the room and I whipped out some crayons and started drawing Yo Gabba Gabba characters (thank the Lord for her Brobee obsession and the fact taht he's easy to draw). The consultation with the doctor was uneventful and pretty straight forward, and when it came time for Maribelle to get her shot, it wasn't all that bad (in comparison to the hysterics she just displayed 10 minutes earlier, mind you. Not much could be worse than that). I dread the fact that our pediatrician recommended we take her to an allergist to follow up on the reaction she has to tofu (basically, vomit city for two hours after eating it) because I can just imagine how that's going to go. Blood draws? Prick tests? Sounds delightful.

After the doctor's visit from hell, the Belle and I headed straight to Target for a little retail therapy. I figured if anything was going to soothe my soul, it would be the $1 aisle at Target (cute back-to-school supplies? Yes, please!) After a snack of crackers and apple juice for Bells and some Starbucks relief for moi, we filled up our cart with stuff we really didn't need and headed home happy campers. Thankfully, the very bad, no-good, rotten morning that we had was really nothing that a new Yo Gabba Gabba book couldn't fix.

Daddy's Girl

Gotta love technology. I recently ditched my ghetto and very outdated cell phone and scored a fancy BlackBerry, which keeps me entertained and connected all hours of the day (Except for when I'm in the car, of course. Because Oprah would NOT approve, thank you very much.) And now that Mama is fully connected, so is Maribelle, who receives her own personal video messages from Daddy via my phone when he's away from home. The latest message is one that I've had to play over and over and over for her these past few days. But I don't mind. Watching her kiss my phone/Jeremy each and every time I play it for her is enough to make me melt.

Road Trippin

I'm not the most spontaneous of people. In fact, I hate surprises, and the idea of doing things on a whim  just makes my stomach swim with anxiety. Because honestly? I need time to mentally prepare myself and to research something to death before I jump head first into it. Vacations, major purchases, even new restaurants and movies -- all need to be looked into (and a million reviews need to be read!) before I will even consider tackling them. However Jeremy? Not so much. He's so much more laid back, carefree and spur-of-the-moment than I ever will be. And actually, it's what I totally fell in love with when I first met him, and I'm so, so grateful that it's still apart of who he is. It was his sense of spontaneity that led us to have the amazing, relaxing and totally re-energizing Fourth of July weekend that we enjoyed at Deep Creek Lake in Western Maryland. Plans were made, suitcases were packed and Momma was mentally prepared all within 24 hours of arriving at the cabin. And for me? That's living on the edge.

And since we haven't posted much in the way of video lately, Jeremy whipped together a little something documenting our Deep Creek experience. And if nothing else, enjoy the song ... it's one of our summer faves at the moment.