18 Months

Dear Miss Skye,

You turned one-and-a-half years old a few days ago.  We commemorated the occasion in the traditional fashion of dragging you to a car dealership for four hours, during which time you made your cheesy cracker-laden mark on no fewer than five showroom vehicles and four windows — but, I’m proud to say, shed very few tears.  Unlike, say, your mother, who weeped when she turned in the keys to her convertible in exchange for a small SUV.  An SUV!  Which I once vowed I would never get.  Of course, I had said the same about a perm and everyone who’s seen my senior picture knows how that vow held up.  Unfortunately.

In other words, Happy 18 Months!

You are such a hoot to hang out with these days, Miss Skye, spontaneously swaying in your chair and singing in your own sweet language (loosely based on a mixture of Baby Babble, English and what I’m convinced is an African click language), and reaching out for me to dance with you any time you hear music.  Or somebody says the word “music.”  Or we walk by a person you suspect was a music major.  Yeah, we’re pretty much dancing all the time.   That is, when you’re not lining up your babies — Elmo, Curious George, Birdie, Baby Lulu and Dolly — on a blanket and patting their backs to help them go to sleep.  This?  Is a BIG production.  Huge.  Every doll has to be covered with a blanket, which must be laid at a particular angle only known in your head.  If I dare to lay the dish towel, er… I mean, baby blanket… in the wrong direction, you let me know just how displeased you are with my incompetence. And, I bet, with the fact that I make you use dish towels as baby bedding.  So low-brow.

Just yesterday, you started putting your finger to your lips and softly shushing me when I was in danger of waking the babies with my big mouth.  And you were right!  I was being thoughtless with my jibber-jabbering.  We both know how cranky Baby Lulu can be when she’s awakened from a nap.

You are a shameless Mama’s Girl, frequently hurting your poor father’s feelings when you insist that I hold you whenever possible.  And by “insist,” I mean demand at the top of your lungs.  No idea where you get THAT sassy attitude from.  *Ahem*  I have also perfected the fine art of putting on makeup with one hand, while holding a 28-lb. toddler with the other.  And by “perfected,” I mean often wearing mascara on only one eye and lipstick on my nose.  But it’s all worth it when you throw your arms around my neck, smiling, and give me a big ol’ smooch on my lipstick-free mouth.

Also:  You and your diva sunglasses that you so proudly wear everywhere?  Make my day.

Love you even more than my SUV’s new car smell and amazing cargo space*,


*Yes, lord help me, I LOVE MY NEW BIG-ASS VEHICLE**

**Dear Concerned Environmentalists:  I only drive about four miles a year — true story — and my SUV gets almost the same gas mileage as my old convertible, so please refrain from calling me a gas-guzzling a-hole, if possible.  I might be an a-hole, sure, but not that much of a gas-guzzling one.  Thanks!  Kisses!

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Candy Kirby

Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

6 CommentsLeave a comment

  • You are a fantastically funny lady and therefore have my permission to drive anything you want. My permission is practically impossible to get, so I hope you know how special you are! ;0) I’m sure Miss Skye likes being driven around in style like a certain Scientolotot (just don’t let her start to dictate what you wear, unless she has better fashion sense than you do, or let her wear heeled shoes).

  • She is too cute in those glasses!! I can’t believe it’s been 18 months already!! I’ve been reading your site since before she was born. 🙂

  • gas guzzling a-hole. (i’m one of those people if you tell me not to do something…… ;-))

  • Hey, SUVs are practical. You got a growing family to chauffer!

    (And gas ain’t no margarita!)

  • Happy 18-month b-day Miss Skye!!
    I love reading your posts Candy. They bring back such wonderful memories of when my girls were little (they’re now 18 and 21). Thanks for making me laugh!

  • Hello! My name is Kristina, I’m a fairly new follower to your blog, which I came across in one of those listings of fabulous mom bloggers (alas, my preggo brain fails me once again!)

    I just had to comment though – a happy 18 month milestone to Miss Skye! One of your littlest followers, my daughter Eden (following by, well, sitting on my lap when I read your blog and usually smashing the keyboard which has led me to many debates on whether or not to post said smashed keyboard comments)… also turned 18 months the other day! On January 26th, to be exact. 🙂 I also did a blog post on my blog for her, because the 18 month milestone is definitely one to be celebrated!

    And now, with baby #3 on the way for me, I too shall be entering the world of SUV-dom. Heaven help us all!

    Love the blog, and congrats to you both. 🙂