Defiance: A genetic defect?

I still remember the day I first felt truly defiant. (Well, the first day I can remember, of course.) I must have been, oh, six, and I had watched entirely too many dramatic stories on television of young runaways. After my mother delivered what I perceived to be a vicious injustice, I stormed off to my room, packed a few necessary belongings into my baby blanket, searched the room for a toy broom to tie the package onto all hobo-style, and marched back to the front door. I looked up at the kitchen only to see my mom busily doing the dishes.

Who did she think she was? A mother of five? (Or maybe it was six by then, the timeframe really is blurry.) Giving it an Oscar-worthy, "goodbye-cruel-world" performance, I painfully sighed, "I'll see you in twenty years."

She turned off the sink and looked at me. Immediately I understood this to mean that she felt all the pain that would exist in her life without me. I felt her begging me to stay and remain the vital part of our family that I was. I felt her apologizing. Then she spoke.

"Did you say something?"

"Yes mom," I thought, "your apology is acceptable. Thank you for understanding your error. I would like to spend the night in my warm bed now."

But all I sighed was, "no."

I don't know why this story has been running through my head lately. Perhaps it's because Penelope had her first truly defiant moment the other night: refusing to swallow her food.

Like mother, like daughter.

Note: Please ignore the obviously bad parenting and filming in this video. Also, did you notice how Jesse is all worried she might be sick, and I immediately just wanted it on film? Man, he really is a better parent than I am.

The best part of waking up

In case you don't know yet, naps are heaven sent. Of course I enjoy my hours of alone time (aka the only time I have to clean up before the next wave of crazy starts), but what's even better is that the baby always wakes up a different -- generally happier -- beast than she was when I put her down.

If you are in our house, you will most likely find her like this after a nap. I guarantee that you cannot stay frustrated when you walk in to the little face.

And while I would love to tell you that Penelope always wakes up all smiles and sunshine, that really isn't true. Sometimes she wakes up like this. Congested, runny nose, exhausted, miserable.

That's what happened in our house this week. But we spent the whole day like two little slugs, watching Gilmore Girls (the ultimate sick day TV programming. Penelope would back me up on this one), manually removing snot from a baby's nose, and comforting said child from the agony of her first head cold.

Sometimes, however, you put your child down for a nap just to get a break from her cranky, teething attitude. And after deciding you are slightly less exasperated, you might peek in to see her peeking right back at you.

And then you immediately take a photo to document her beautiful, raw silliness.

No matter what, it truly is the beginning to a new day (or afternoon, or two hours until the next nap).

NOW FOR SOMETHING ENTIRELY DIFFERENT

husband: What is that?

me: It's the Halloween costume I got for Penelope.

husband: Yeah, but what IS it?

me: It's a peacock.

husband: That's NOT a peacock.

me: Why not?

husband: When have you ever seen a peacock with a human face peeking out of its neck? It's terrifying!!!

Conclusion: Our difference of opinion wasn't resolved. However, we did agree on a new costume for the baby. Pictured peacock costume has been returned to the store. (But I still claim it is awesome.)