Just read a quote that says, "Adulthood: if you are not tired, you are not doing it right".  So true.  I am tired all the time.  Chase this, grab that, don't do that.  Then I think how dull it would be otherwise.  What did we do when we didn't have kids? We couldn't get all the chores done before we had kids, but we manage to get them done now.  Wow.  We must have been lazy lazy bums.  Life is busy and it does tire me out, but I wouldn't have it any other way.  I love the sound of flat feet on the hardwood floor at 5 am coming to climb in the bed with me for morning snuggles before the sun completely comes up.  I love that sweet face that looks up and me and asks, "patty, mommy" even though it means I have to get up from my cozy spot to fetch her a pacifier.  So if I am tired, worn out, and spent, I am loving every minute of it. 

First Day of Bal-a-let.  Yes, I buckled her in, I just had to get the pic first.

War Eagle, I love spirit tutus.  Where were these when I was in college?  I would have rocked it.

So here's to starting a blog . . . again.  Instead of the circumstances that led me to my last blog, this one is all about the Taylors.  The crazy, pulling our hair out, yeah, let's try that, see if this works Taylors.  All about our life, our struggles, circumstances, and the adventure of raising two confident (aka bull headed) girls.  Yes, Grandma Jack, it all came back to me. 

Enter phase I, today.  Macy's two year old appointment.  Granted, Macy was two years old a month and a half ago, but I digress.  The visit to the pediatrician is no less eventful than your standard bomb shelter fallout, emergency hurricane evacuation route procedure.  Phone?  check.  Keys?  check.  Anxiety meds?  check. 

Get to the day care.  As I walk through the door, she knows what's up.  Her face says it all.  First there is a small look of confusion, oh, my Mommy's here.  Then, the look of, its only 9 am.  Then the look of  OH NO!!!  We must be going to get shots!!!!!  Then all chaos breaks loose.  Cue me chasing my toddler through her day care room with other toddler onlookers beginning to franticly wonder if I am about to break out and snatch them up too.  Crying, wailing, and all out panic ensue.

Skip the wrestle to the car and into the car seat where we arrive at the ped.  Walking into the office before I can even get her signed in, she begins the act.  The act is one of, I am so innocent and good and giving, why oh why would you do something like this to me?  It is at this time that I realize I have forgotten the pacifier.  I would rather have a chronic hemmoroid than the missing pacifier at this point.  How did I forget the pacifier???  I am done.  Destroyed.  I remember we have to finalize our Last Will and Testament.  Add it to the list.

Finally to the room we go.  Nurse wants to check the weight and height at which point Macy forgets the use of her legs.  "Hold you Mommy, Hold you!"  Small arms choke the life out of me while I pry her fingers from my face to get her on the scale.  We check her weight and height and move on to bigger and better things.  To the room we go.  Dr. tries to check her ears, nose, and throat while Macy is convinced we are going to kill her.  She is convinced this is all a conspiracy to do in the red headed one.  All out panic of extreme proportions is a delta recon status.  Finally, she is calmed by "Angry Birds" on my phone as I talk to Dr. about her progress and the attitude of my 3 year old (that, my friends, is a blog for another day). 

Dr. leaves and Macy is certain that she has narrowly escaped amputation.  Not so fast, here comes the nurse with the hep A vaccine.  Angry Birds still in session as she BEGS me for her paci.  "Patty, Mommy, PLEASE patty!!!".  Mother of the year still has not located the paci as Macy is hit unawares in her thigh region with the dreaded shot.  AHHHH!!!!!   Where are my pills? 

Finally we are out.  On the way to the door, Nurse gives Macy a sticker and all is well with the world.  Are you kidding me?  A stinking sticker???  I would have given you $100 to chill out a minute ago and you want a sticker?  I calmly await Ashton Kutcher to jump out of the lobby and tell me I'm punked.  Then I receive a check up call from the friendly OB/GYN that my pap is scheduled for this afternoon.  Wow.  This keeps getting better and better . . . . . but don't expect a blog on that one, but I can assure you, I won't be getting a sticker.