{Snow}

A couple of weeks ago we had a pretty good snowstorm.  I am NOT a fan of snow.  I really need to live somewhere with warmth and sunshine year round.:) 

Lily P has never liked the snow either.  Even getting her to touch it isn't going to happen.  But when all the other little ones got their snow stuff on and went outside, she wanted to join them.  She was so unsure at first but then loved it!

The kids had so much fun having a snowball fight with dad and of course the boys were really rough and it was freaking me out a little. :) 

I feel like we got to play in the snow, now it can all go away and not come back for a long time!

Punk Pants in the snow.  She couldn't walk, it was so funny watching her.

Jett just wanted to sit and eat snow.  That kid will put anything in his mouth!  Yuck!

Ky making a snow angel.

A snow Lou.  She loves the snow.

Daddy helping Lily P to walk.  So sweet!

Snowball fight. 

{A Party for Punk}

The day before Lily Ps birthday party she had her two year checkup.  We found out she had a sinus infection and double ear infections.  Poor baby girl. :(  So, on the day of her party she wasn't feeling her best.  But, she still had a lot of fun...

Lil' P with her Mommy & Daddy

Opening her presents.  She LOVES opening presents!

Hanging out on the stairs with her new Belle doll.  She got a matching dress that I haven't been able to take off of her since.:)

Goodie bags and cupcakes

Me and my little Lily P Punk

Blowing out her 2 candle

Some family eating pizza.  We had pizza, Lilys favorite food.  She hadn't been eating too well because of feeling so sick but she did eat two pieces of pizza :)

Lily P after eating  her two cupcakes and getting a birthday love from her cute cousin Hallie

Ethan and Lil P with her adorable birthday sign made by her Grandma Joan.  It is my favorite one yet!

{Prayer For My Daughters}

I love Tina Feys book 'Bossypants'.  It is a must read!  My favorite part is the prayer for her daughter.  I am definitely saying this prayer for both of my daughters....

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.