It’s so lovely here.  And so very sunny, which is all a girl needs to get her beach on.

After all that rain, we aren’t taking this baby for granted.  No, siree.  We are soaking up every ray we can.

Until the very last moment, when it silently slips into the sea.

I could get use to this life…

They played silly animal games with the kids and then painted their faces (I use the term kids loosely as even my husband got his face painted): 

And then came the animals. But first we had to show our “Zoo Two’s” before we can touch them.  Piper had the zoo two’s down pat.  As did big mamma, who couldn’t resist petting Quito, the silkie chicken (might have even knocked a few toddlers out of my way in the process):

We also saw Tiny, the rather large tortoise and Penny, the sweet little rabbit. 

But the main attraction was Pinky, the armadillo, who ate worms right out of Piper’s hand with his long snout (which “tickled a lot” I am told).

For the entire day, this huge smile never left Piper’s face, she was so beside herself with excitement and joy.  And really, what more can a mother ask for in life?  It makes me want to do this every weekend! Well, sorta.

Hey, an armadillo peed all over my house, and all I got was this lousy tee shirt!

“Why do you suddenly need a new backpack, Piper?” I asked, as I continued to buckle her into the car seat, resigning to the fact that this morning was probably not going to go smoothly.

“Because I don’t like Diego anymore.”

Instinct told me this had nothing to do with getting a new backpack. Or Diego.

“Why don’t you like Diego anymore?”

“Because Santino says Diego is for boys and Dora is for girls.  So we need to go to the backpack store so I can get a Dora backpack.”

As we drove on, I tried to combat this onslaught of gender stereotyping. You can like both… You don’t have to choose… Mommy’s a girl and she loves Diego…

When I dropped her off, I could tell she wasn’t convinced. But I could also tell she wasn’t as eager to turn her back on Diego just yet.  I knew my own opinions would pale in comparison to the opinions of a four year old boy named Santino. Not because he was a boy or her classmate, but simply because he planted a seed, a seed that my daughter with her sharp mind and observation skills is now reaping into a very real dilemma.

Once she processed what Santino said, she most likely noticed that none of the other girls had an orange and green Diego backpack.  Instead, they carried the pink Disney Princess or Dora backpacks.  She most likely noticed that none of the other girls entertained themselves with rescuing the whales or winning the rainforest race.  Instead, they played tea party and house.  And as a result of these observations, she most likely came to realize that maybe, just maybe she wasn’t quite fitting in.

According to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, the need to belong is such a compelling force that it is only surpassed by the physical needs of survival (food, clothing and shelter) and the security needs for safety.  Considering this, it is not that surprising that my four year old is ready to trade in her beloved animal rescuer, Diego for the substandard Dora, who merely explores. In her mind, siding with Dora and the world of pink will allow her to belong.

Yes, her dilemma is very real, and with that dilemma my baby has reached another level of maturity and has taken a giant step up the ladder towards self actualization.  She must now balance her own individual wants against the constant pressure to conform.  I just hope that I can help smooth out a few of the nasty bumps and hurdles she is bound to face along the way.  And maybe, just maybe, I can rescue Diego for her right now.

T.G.I.F - enjoy your weekend, even if it rains the entire time.

I almost didn’t go. 

The night was wonderful, our hostess was the best and all the women I met were amazing.  Beyond amazing.  Several of the women who were there have already written about it.  How everything just flowed and any fly on the wall could never have guessed that half of us, the bigger half, have never met before that night.

But I almost didn’t go.

You see, I don’t really consider myself a blogger these days.  I rarely post and I comment even less.  I am so out of touch with this amazing community that I use to treasure and find strength in.  Two years ago I would have relished in finding terrific new blogs that promise great reads, connections and possible friends.  And, on some level, I still do relish it.  I have started adding them all to my bloglines and have even bopped around to check out some posts.  (It’s such a special treat when you can actually put a voice, a face and a personality to that virtual name.)

And yet. I almost didn’t go.

Because. Well. Because I wasn’t sure I could afford to go.  I can’t tell you how sad it makes me that most of the emails I write, phone calls I make and hugs I share begin with I am so sorry…

I am so sorry I haven’t written in ages…, I am so sorry I didn’t call you last week…, I am so sorry I missed your birthday…, I am so sorry I couldn’t come over…, I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me…

It’s not that my job keeps me too busy, or that Piper is at a very needy age, or that my house constantly looks like a bomb exploded, or that my fridge is once again bare.

It’s not one thing over the other, it is all of the things at once.  I can barely keep up.  And blogging is just one of those things I can’t keep up with, regardless of how much I would love to.

So, yeah. I almost didn’t go.  Because, I really didn’t think I belonged there or deserved to be there.

If it not for the fact that I hadn’t seen Bossy in over 20 years, I wouldn’t have gone.

But I did go.  And I am so glad I went.  Even if it ends up being a connection so brief between me and many of the women I met.  It was still a connection.  A human connection.  After so many years of blogging and wanting desperately to meet all these virtual friends.  I connected.  Unplugged.  And It was great.  And inspiring.  I want to regain my bloggy self.  I miss it all too much and I am missing way too much.

But first I have to make a few phone calls, write some emails, clean my house, go food shopping, play CandyLand…

Piper was starting to settle down, closing her eyes.  But every so often she would say something or ask me a question, mostly about the cat.

Mama look! Oreo put his paw on my leg.

Mama, I love cuddling with Oreo.

Mama, Oreo is such a nice cat.

Mama, Oreo loves me, doesn’t he?

Than out of the blue, she asks, “Mama, do you think Oreo likes cuddling with other cats as much as he likes cuddling with us?”

Hmmm.  I thought about it for a moment, then told her, “Yes.  I think he does.  He use to cuddle with Thai all the time and Thai was a cat.”

The minute I said it, I knew I was opening a can of worms.

“Mama, whose Thai?”

“He was our other cat.”

“Mama, where is Thai now?”

“He’s in heaven, baby.”

“Mama, why is Thai in heaven and not here with us?”

“Because he died, honey.  He lived a very long and very happy life, then died.”

“Mama? Where’s heaven?”

“It’s up in the sky with God, honey.”

She laid there very quietly while I held my breath, hoping she would drop it and fall asleep.

“Mama?  Is Thai on a plane?”