We have been experiencing ALL SORTS of two-year-old “OH-MY-FREAKING-HECK-WHO-ARE-YOU-AND-WHAT-HAVE-YOU-DONE-WITH-MY-CHILL-AND-AGREEABLE-WIDDLE-BABY-BUTTERLUMP!!!???-ness” at our house lately.

Aaron (aka Butterlump*) is in a phase that is LIKELY TO KILL ME AND MINE SANITY.

He is a tornado.

He gets into absolutely anything (and usually destroys it) in seconds.

I can’t even go into the ‘taking off the diaper” thing he does MULTIPLE times a day. I’m too traumatized. Let’s just say we rented a rug cleaning machine so many times in a week period we just went out and bought one.

But the thing that drives me freaking NUTSO right at the moment is the word “NO” and his utter, utter love of it.

“Aaron, would you like a drink?”

“NO.”

“Can you hold on to mama’s hand?”

“NO.”

“Want to go bye-bye?”

“NO.”

“Would you like a bit of sandwich?”

“NO.”

“Can we try going potty?”

“NO.”

“Would you like to snuggle with mama?”

“NO.”

“Do you love mama?”

“NO.”

“Do you love Daddy?”

“NO.”

“Would you like to go outside?”

“NO.”

“Do you want to go swing on the swings?”

“NO.”

“Do you want to go get soft blankie?”

“NO.”

“Do you want to watch Sponge Bob?”

“NO.”

“Do you want a cookie? Some ice cream?? How about new shoes??? A teddy bear???? A DS????? An iPod??????? A scooter??????? A trained baby unicorn that can speak Swahili, belches magical rainbows and feeds you grapes in your custom swimming pool on a remote island that is made up of candy bars, water slides and theme park rides???????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

“NO.”

“FINE THEN! FINE!!!!!! SEE IF I CARE IF YOU EVER SAY YES TO ME EVER AGAIN!!!! BUT I WILL LET YOU KNOW, MR. NO-NO PAT OF BUTTER, THAT WHEN YOUR NEGATORY LITTLE HEINY IS IN HIGH SCHOOL AND PEOPLE OFFER YOU WEED, ALCOHOL, JOY RIDING, LETTING YOU CHEAT OFF THEIR TERM PAPERS OR ANYTHING INVOLVING BOY BITS AND GIRL BITS CO-MINGLING IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, THIS TREND OF ALWAYS SAYING NO TO EVERYTHING HAD BETTER CONTINUE!!!!!!!!!!!”

“NO.”

Sigh.

*I’m trying to ease into using Butterlump’s given name online. It is killing me. Just so you know. :(

10 things that are making me happy right now.

(In no particular order)

1. Friends. Both far and near. (Well, ok, not exactly NEAR anymore but nearer than far. AND IN ONE MORE DAY NEAR WILL ACTUALLY BE NEAR ENOUGH TO LIKE, GO TO LUNCH N’ STUFF!) And most importantly, friends that are still here, fighting, surviving, and that remain one of the bravest women I’ve ever known.

2. Bees. I’ve learned a lot about them lately from friends who have beehives. I had no idea how vital they are to so many things or how they are disappearing. What amazing creatures.

3. My husband. He knows every single thing there is to know about me. I can (and do) tell him everything and anything. And when days are very hard, he brings me a Diet Coke without me asking and without a lecture.

4. Rain. Whenever it rains, I secretly think that God is sending it especially for me.

5. Hearing Butterlump try to say “Sponge Bob Square Pants”. Priceless.

6. The Twilight Series. While I damn near cried when I realized my avid-reader 15-year-old was avidly reading this series, I discovered that the threat of holding the purchase of “Eclipse” off makes one DAMN FINE MOTIVATIONAL TOOL.

7. Kate Rusby. Because seriously…she came from heaven just to sing this. Of this, I am convinced.

8. My bed. It is often my refuge and my comfort. I love it.

9. Books. Honest-to-goodness-I-can-turn-the-paper-pages-BOOKS. They have been lifelong companions and friends and I love getting to know new ones and falling back in love with the old standbys that fill my bookshelves.

10. Duct tape. Butterlump learned how to take off his diaper. I am taking it that I don’t have to elaborate further about this, correct?

Would absolutely LOVE to hear what is on your list today.

(And I really, really mean that.)

Mine:

And the incomparable original (people kept commenting they hadn’t heard it so, I added. ;))

So fun.

I’ve determined a couple of things by trying out this kind of singing for the first time. (Other than in my shower or in a car.)

Classical singing is like wearing a corset.

Musical theater singing is like wearing a good, sturdy bra.

And with jazzy blues ballads you can pretty much just let it all hang out and enjoy yourself.

And I totally did that.

Sure, it’s always hard putting yourself out there in a new way but man was it was a blast to dink around in a studio and just SING without worrying about my voice cracking, breathiness, my registers not blending, and where scooping and sliding on notes is absolutely required and NOT a cardinal sin!

I just sang what came out and had fun.

Now if I could just figure out a way for my voice to lose its “Hi, I am wrapped up in a velour tracksuit at all times” easy-listening-tone and have some grit to it without smoking a pack a day I will be SET!

;)

P.S. I WILL apologize and say that this was not the post I had intended for today. I’m letting that one lie for a day or two to make sure I’m furthering conversation, not drama. This is the end of “Loralee’s Recordings” for the foreseeable future, so I hope you’ll forgive me for posting two in a row. :)

Other snippets:

Les Miz

The Secret Garden

Wicked

Dude-like Singing