Mommy Offerings

So, for the first time in a long time, I don't feel like writing. In fact, I'm writing this sentence in the hopes that I'll just start and keep going...

I have a food hangover from the weekend, am reeling from Gone Girl, and feeling sleepy after spending a much-needed evening visiting with family.

This full-time thing is tough. I forgot what it was like to not want to do anything except work, play, and sleep. Dishes, laundry, meal prep... hardly a priority. I must choose carefully what I dedicate my time and energy to, because there is so little of it to go around.

I'm back in a 21-Day-Fix challenge group, to try to get in better shape for my vacation. I say it's so that I'll be able to walk around more comfortably without getting tired so easily, but the reality is that I hate my body when I look in the mirror. I still see a slender waist, relative to the size of my body, but my hips have gotten bigger. More importantly, I'm uncomfortable moving, getting up off the couch. I've put on 40lbs since last year.

I tell my reflection that it's fine, that everyone's bound to have a food-honeymoon after not being able to eat what they want without getting sick for most of their life. Since starting my Crohn's medication, I can eat what I want, when I want. Greasy foods, sweet foods, it doesn't matter, but it's time to limit those foods to a one-time weekend treat.

This morning, I put on my running shoes, mainly for warmth. It was freezing outside, I had to scrape ice off my car windows. I drove to work, then walked to the grocery store. I bought fruit and English muffins, almond butter, and fat-free coffee creamer. I walked the long way, took the stairs.

And suddenly, I'm walking, wearing running shoes, and carrying fruit around. Baby stepping to big change. My counselor said that I should take on one task at a time instead of trying to do everything at once. So, I am. I've been keeping up with dishes, with Mark's help, and trying to work my way around the apartment and clean up, but dishes is my one household chore for the week.

Oh, and the parenting thing? Well, that's been a breeze. I've realized that if I just let her do what she wants 90% of the time, my job becomes super easy. It also helps that I have a wonderful daughter who wants to do pretty reasonable things, like help me clean, or paint leaves. I even let her do the things that are seemingly unreasonable, like wash quarters in a colander. To her, these little things are big things. To me, they may seem small, but her little to-do list, just like mine, is teaching her how to do big things -- like thinking outside the box, coming up with creative solutions to problems, and being an all-around cool kid.

I think we're doing alright... especially since last night she celebrated my "birthday" early (it's in February) and surrounded me with a dozen pieces of Nini's pewter collectibles -- an altar of offerings to the great "Mommy." I'll continue trying to live up to that status!

Whales' Tails

Well, I don't have much time to write today -- I always type that right before writing a ridiculously long post. Then I have to go back at the end to delete it.

Saturday is Mark's weekend sleep-in day. It's also the weekly 11am kids' art class at A.C. Moore in Williston! It's usually FREE (or $1-$5 for supplies). Elle has been begging me to take her to her own art class ever since Auntie Bee and I went to a creature-drawing class at Artists' Mediums a few weeks ago. This was perfect. I made the pom-pom, and she glued on the googly eyes and accessories.

The next class sounds really fun. It's another free one -- making animal creatures out of beads. A.C. Moore's events calendar is a little hidden on their website (Go to this link, here, for the store locator, type in the Williston zip code (05495), click the red View Events link), or stop in the store any time for a flyer listing the events for the month.

After, Elle asked if we could go to the "Whales' Tails" in Burlington. You can see the sculpture from the highway, but I've never walked up to it. "Sure," I said. I'm always up for more free fun activities!

I still can't entirely figure out why, but this little adventure was such a special bonding moment for us. It was like a mini hike to the top of a giant mountain. Like Vermont's version of the Statue of Liberty. There's a long trail you can take that goes through the woods and loops around back to the statue, but we just cut across the baseball field.

There's something so freeing about letting your toddler loose in a giant field. She ran around in circles, played in the sand, screamed, laughed, chased me. There was no saying "No." There were no limits. She got so worn out that she fell asleep early and slept all through the night. Yep, we need more of this!

But more than running free, it was another opportunity to show my little girl how big the world is that we live in, to show her something that looked so small from far away and let her experience the enormity of it up close. Vast fields, huge sculptures, planes landing at the nearby airport. Blue skies stretching out as far as she could see, and layers of varying shades of blue mountains pasted in the background.

"I'm scared," she said, as she stared up the hill, two monstrous whales' tails towering over her head.

"It's just a sculpture, a statue. They're not real whales. Besides, you're a brave girl. You can do this."

She looked up at me, listening intently, then ventured ahead. When we got to the top, she turned back to me and said, "You're a brave girl, too, Mommy."

I hope so. "I am seeking. I am striving. I am in it with all my heart."

Nature V. Nurture, Waterparks, and Donuts

I’ve been wanting to take E to the Jay Peak Pump House for awhile, but I was unsure about cost, driving distance, etc. The other day, Nissa at BVTMomsBlog had a great post (here) listing some ideas for local indoor fun. The Pump House was on the list, and I just had to try it out! I checked the rates on the website and found out that E would be free (ages 3 and under), and I would only have to pay the $10 “supervision” rate. Seriously. Ten dollars to go to a water park for a day. You can’t beat it!

The play area for the younger kids is wonderful – mini waterslides, water guns, fountains, a huge bucket of water that dumps over the play structure, a la Typhoon Lagoon at Disney. There are so many ways that the kids can interact with the water.

E was a little nervous at first. She spent the first hour staying by my side and taking it all in. We finally went up on the play structure together, but one drenching soak from the big bucket had us moving back to the wading pool. She was a little startled, but we laughed it off. When she’s a little older, I think she’ll love it. But, for now, the yellow “baby” waterslide is perfect. She watched and waited for a lull in the crowd of kids lining up to get on the yellow slide.

I asked her if she wanted me to take her to it. She said, “No, Mama. I do this by myself.” She had clearly spent the last half hour scoping out the scene and thinking about how she was going to tackle that amazing yellow slide. After she got the hang of it, she jumped right in line with other kids who were now flocking back to the main attraction. She took her time, even as some kids pushed her aside and flew past down the slide. She was unfazed (thank you, day care!). She patiently waited her turn.

One little girl who was older led her to the slide and helped her up the stairs, letting E go first. The girl looked up at her father who gave her a happy nod of approval. Every other child who flew past E was being chased by a mother yelling, “Wait your turn!” I silently thanked God for a positive experience with parents who were involved and paying attention. Kids will be kids. We didn’t mind waiting, but it was nice to see parents trying to simply make their kids more aware of the younger ones.

E sat down at the top of the slide, and though there was a line a mile long behind her, she sat for a minute to throw her arms in the air, look to the skies, and say, “Ready! Set! GO!!” Everyone else around her faded into the distance, into a garbled sea of splashes, laughter, and chatter. And in her own, little, secret space, she quietly stole her own little moment of sunshine. This is me. Waiting, watching, sneaking, then carefully being happy when I feel it’s safe to do so. And this is Mark. Not afraid to try something new, but waiting and studying every move, planning how he will do it until just the right moment, and doing it skillfully, perfectly, without fear.

This was really the first time I saw her interacting with a large group of kids in a public setting, and to see mine and Mark’s personalities pop up in a very social way was amazing. She has learned most of her social interaction through day care, so I think I expected that she would just act like the other kids. This “nature vs. nurture” thing blows my mind.

Before I knew it, she was comfortable running to each activity, getting drenched. A diaper change didn’t deter her. The entire time I was changing her, she kept asking, “We go back waterpark? We play in water more?” Sure, why not!? We stayed until dinner time and ate a light dinner at the pizza shop off the lobby.

I don’t know what it was about this day – the fact that we got to play in the water, that it was 84 degrees inside, or that the entire place felt like a Disney park from my childhood. It was by far one of the best days of my life. I was relaxed, playing in the water, with my little girl, in the middle of February, after a long winter of too-cold days and snow storms.

It didn’t matter that changing clothes in the bathroom stall with a 2-year-old was traumatic for both of us. She put her hands on the toilet seat and smiled at me, knowing I would scream, “NooOOOooo!! Err-mah-gahd!! Germs!” She found the “override” button for the auto-flush toilet which triggered a very “splashy” toilet to spew water 10 feet in the air, in a 2-foot by 3-foot stall, causing me to press my barely-clothed body against the side of the stall and scream, “NooOOOooo!!!” again.

It didn’t matter that I had to put both of our bare, clean feet on the floor of a public bathroom, even though it caused me to squirm and cringe like I was walking through snakes. Or that, at some point, the baby wipes must have fallen out of our bag, and I ended up having to use a spare diaper to wipe down a poop-covered toddler who was using one of my favorite dresses as a changing pad (gah, I always forget that thing!).

It didn’t matter that… that diaper ended up not being a “spare” diaper, and I had to take an un-diapered, un-potty trained toddler to a restaurant where she drank an entire bottle of apple juice then put her in her car seat for an hour-long ride home.

It didn’t even matter that… she said she “spilled” her juice in the car, that she wanted to stop at “(Old) McDonalds (House)” to use the bathroom, and that she could definitely wait 3 miles until we got there. But what she actually meant was that she had peed through 5 layers of clothing and her car seat cover.

And I didn’t even mind that we ended up having to stop at Dunkin’ Donuts instead to change my toddler (and let her stand barefoot in another public restroom, because we lost her socks), while I dried her pants under the high-powered hand dryer. She thought this was hilarious, and laughed so loud each time I turned on the dryer that I thought she was going to hurt herself.

And I even calmly laughed (because, it was just downright hilarious) when I finally got her dressed again and brought her to the counter to get a water, and the guy said, “What can I get for you?” and she sang in the loudest and highest pitched opera voice I had ever heard in all my years, “I’D LIIIIIKE A DOOOOONUT!!” The guy stared back and said in a deadpan tone, “What kinda donut?” She responded with the song of our people, “ONE WITH FROOOOOSTING!!”

We had our rough moments, but it was worth every minute to have a little summer break after a long winter!

We got home, and she gave me a big hug and said, “Thank you, Mommy. I had fun playing in the water with you!” I gave her a bath to wash off the chlorine and bathroom germs, and Mark put her to bed. She cried to go back to the water park but once in her crib, she fell right to sleep. Sweet dreams, bubby! We’ll have more fun tomorrow!

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E also wrote a new song on the road trip. She was inspired by a tree lit with Christmas lights outside of a restaurant. It goes like this:

"Oh, Christmas tree! You are so pretty!!

Christmas tree! You are so beautiful... ... to me!
Oh, Christmas tree! Would you like a donut?

Fearlessly Battling Mommy Guilt

This morning E had a meltdown, because she wanted to help me make her lunch for day care. Ok. I had just gotten out of bed and was trying to pry open one of my eyes that had been gooped up with some day-old mascara. I blinked a few times, pushed a mess of curls out of my face, then calmly worked out a solution with her.

She wanted to stand on her chair at the counter, but the counter was a mess, so I talked her into sitting on the dining room table and brought the sandwich fixings to her. I stood by her side and went about my task, making a turkey sandwich for her lunch. Mark followed me to the table, as I had swiped all the sandwich ingredients, and he was about to make one for his lunch.

We worked away. E hadn’t had breakfast yet, so she sipped on her milk and stole a slice of Mark’s bread and chewed a large hole in the middle of it. I replaced the bread on his plate. I filled a bowl with peas. Before I could get the lid on it, she stole a few, and I refilled the bowl as I went about putting her lunch together, grabbing a yogurt out of the fridge, throwing a banana in her bag.

The mommy guilt took me off guard this morning. I suddenly asked myself, “Is this okay?” I’ve tried so hard to bring some order to my life, to not drag E through the chaos that is the life of a creative, distracted, off-the-wall, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants mama. Sometimes I feel like such a child myself when I look at my messy apartment, when I see E running around covered in marker ink, with lentil soup in her hair. And here she was, this morning, sitting in the middle of the table, not yet dressed or diaper changed, eating a “breakfast” of wheat bread, peas, and milk. This is my fault. I haven’t created any consistency in the mornings. She doesn’t know what to expect. I let her do almost anything she wants (within reason), to be like me, to help. And when she does typical toddler stuff (like eat the bread off Mark’s plate), I just fix the hiccup and move on.

I hear two versions of myself. One mommy-me says, “You’re not teaching her boundaries. There’s no schedule for mornings. She’ll think she can take food off of people’s plates. That she can climb tables, do whatever she wants. She won’t listen or respect others.”

But I sometimes think those are other people's words. My heart screams out to her, “Here is your world with minimal boundaries. Adapt to constant change. Survive. Take what you want (without hurting others). If you can climb a table, you can climb a mountain. Be whoever you want to be.” And when I do say, “no,” she does listen, and I explain why. Because we’ve always talked to each other. We can compromise, and in that, there’s respect.

I know that I have a toddler who says, “I’m sorry,” and “Be careful, Mama,” who shows compassion, empathy, self-awareness, who treats others with respect, who respects my voice (even when she doesn’t agree with it). I’ve had to say, “Please don’t take food off my plate right now, I’m eating that,” and she listens.

And I know that, I can organize pieces of my life, create small, consistent steps and schedules for her, but somewhere in between those dots, between dinner at 5pm and bedtime at 7pm, there will be chaos. Beautiful, fun, do-whatever-you-want (unless it involves getting injured) chaos.

And that just has to be okay. Because this is me. And this is me accepting myself (almost entirely – big step here). Finally. By seeing her turn out okay growing up in my world.

Tea for Two

I hobbled with my broken foot over to E's crib this morning and scooped her up.

"I need doggie, Mommy."
"Ok."
"And my new blankie. And kitty. And that blankie... And that doggie."

I filled my arms with all her security items until I almost couldn't see over the bundle. E tucked her head under my chin, buried her face in all her favorite stuffed animals and blankies and let out a sigh.

I took her out into the living room and put all the stuffed animals and blankets on the couch, but she didn't want me to put her down yet. So, I hobbled into the kitchen, toddler on my hip. I made myself some tea with honey to help my sore throat.

"I want tea, Mommy," E mumbled, so I poured some tea into a cup for her. It was decaf. With the promise of a grown-up tea cup, E happily got out of my arms and curled up on the couch. She was so happy to sit and have morning tea with me.

"This just like Bee's tea, Mommy!" Yes, Auntie Bee loves her tea!
"That's right! I love tea, too, it's so cozy!"

We sat and visited for a long time about the bandage on my foot, how it was a cold morning, the fire drill at day care yesterday, and which craft activities we would do when she got home. It was such a sweet morning with her. Then she went off to day care with Mark.

I'm home a few more days nursing my foot and this awful case of strep throat, looking for more craft ideas to keep E busy when she gets home in the afternoon.

Crafts and Chaos

Yesterday, Mark was desperate to get some more work done in the afternoon. With my broken foot and strep throat on the mend, he's had to get Ellie from day care at 2pm and bring her home to me. Then, he works in our home office/bedroom/storage shed into the evening.

On Monday, this didn't really work, because E was much too busy and cranky for me to keep up with. She hadn't had a nap, so she was a beast, trying to escape out the front door, and running back and forth terrorizing us. Recliner-parenting wasn't going to be sufficient.

So, yesterday, I told Mark that I would come up with an afternoon plan, and I set up a few craft projects in preparation of her return. Luckily, he brought me a freshly-rested toddler! As soon as she came in the door, I got her settled at the table with two projects.

One was from my sister's day care curriculum -- a fresh twist on the classic hand-print turkey.

Guess Which Weekend Event Is False

Allow me to sum up my weekend... One of the following is not true:

1. E ate a Tootsie Pop for breakfast on Saturday morning.
2. On Sunday, I sat down on an old chair.
3. It shattered.
4. My foot hit the underside of the table when I fell.
5. I broke my toe.
6. I spent an hour in the ER getting wheeled around, x-rayed, and set up with crutches and a boot.
7. The doctor demonstrated how the human foot moves by running his hand up and down my thigh.
8. The nurse was the same nurse who I thought was kidnapping E from the nursery when I was in the maternity ward 2 years ago. I told him that and recounted me stumbling through the nursery door at 4am and demanding, "What's going on!?"
9. He said, "I'll never forget that..."

I Hear Sleigh Bells!

Rearranged the living room in preparation of the arrival of our Christmas tree!

And so it begins – my Christmas quest. I spent yesterday afternoon rearranging our living room in preparation of the arrival of our Christmas tree. I still have some more decorating and decluttering to do, but it's getting there!

Would you believe that Mark is actually considering getting a real tree again this year?? Yeah, me neither.

This year, I was content to put up ol’ faithful, the “plastic disaster” – our $20 WalMart tree that we bought when we first moved in. We bought it out back, in the Lawn & Garden section. A masculine woman knocked it off the top shelf of a warehouse pile, and it fell 30 feet to, what we thought, was its certain death and dismemberment.
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Ready for Christmas Cheer

First year with a real tree -- Christmas 2010.

‘Tis the season for holiday cheer and crotchety, old bookstore ladies!

Yesterday, E and I went to the bookstore just to browse. We sat down on the floor to look at some books. The woman working the counter sounded annoyed that we were there, as she grumpily said, “Can I help you?”

We had just sat down, and it was clear that I was just helping E look at books. E is always good with her books, but a few minutes later the woman yelled, “Hey! Don’t bend that book back!”

“She’s absolutely fine!” I said.

Beside the fact that she wasn’t bending the book back, I was supervising just to be sure she was being gentle.

“Well, she’s too young, and I thought she would bend them.”
“Well, she’s not,” I said.
E piped up, “I want to go home, Mommy!”
“Me too!” I said loudly, “and I have no desire to come back!”

Don’t yell at my child because you think she might misbehave! How rude! Bookstores are supposed to be fun!

We spent the rest of the time browsing the mercantile downstairs, where no one else yelled at us for picking up items to look at.

Ugh. Now I’m ready for some holiday cheer, some hometown friendliness, and some Christmas magic!

Tonight I’m hoping to rearrange the living room to make room for our Christmas tree, which I hope to pick up the day after Thanksgiving this year. I’m so excited for E to experience this Christmas. She’ll be so much more aware. I’m making the most of it and starting as early as possible, and spreading some holiday love -- despite Grinchy old ladies!

Vacation Success!

On our way down Hunter Mountain!

Hello, friends! So, you may have noticed (at least I hope you did) that I’ve been pretty quiet over the last week. That’s because we were on our first official family vacation of the year! We rented a house in the Catskills with a group of friends (a yearly tradition) and spent time enjoying some much-needed relaxation in front of a TV, fireplace, and on the mountain – playing disc golf and enjoying some park time! We also had many good cooks among us who created some delicious meals including ziti with homemade sauce, taco soup and nachos, and baguette French toast with cinnamon butter glaze (drools). After E was in bed, we drank too much wine and soda and stayed up until all hours playing Cards Against Humanity – oh the inappropriate humor! I woke up every morning sore from laughing.

E did great on the trip, but the fact remains that we brought a toddler to an otherwise adult party. I felt bad when people held back their swearing, and I insisted that we didn’t mind. I felt guilty when, after a night of restlessness, she cried and whined a lot for most of the next day. Typical toddler behavior that I dealt with as patiently as I could.

Dinnertime! Scarf it, Mark!

When we arrived the first night, we were surprised to find that the half of the house that was shown online, the main living area, was, indeed, beautifully kept, had a nice, new kitchen and cozy fireplace – but the other half of the house looked like something out of a 1970s horror movie – teal wood paneling, half detached from the wall, nails sticking out in places; cobwebs and closet-spiders galore; and rickety old beds with equally old bedding (though it smelled clean). Over my bed, I even found what I believed to be blood spatter. I’ve seen enough episodes of Forensic Files to recognize the aftermath of blunt-force trauma, and I was certain I had uncovered evidence of a grizzly murder scene… or possibly a nail-painting session gone awry in the 1980s with polish shade #105 – Like, Totally Wicked Red. It’s anyone’s guess, but as I curled up in bed with my True Crime novel, my mind wandered, and my anxiety rose.

Note to Self: Always Wear Pants

Yesterday, I put on my skinny jeans. Ugh. They fit okay in the waist… even though I haven’t run in the last two weeks and still have a weakness for mini-cans of Coca Cola (Lord, help me), but they were snug in the legs, so when we got home, sitting on the floor with E was a bit of a challenge. I shook them off and opted to run around in a t-shirt and undies. Our apartment is on the third floor and always gets too hot anyway, so I was comfortable.

I went about making some dinner, boiling some macaroni. E must have shared my feelings about the 80-degree kitchen. As soon as she spilled a bit of milk on her shirt, it was a good enough excuse to wrestle her way out of it. Ok.

At that moment, the timer for the macaroni beeped, then the corn.

From the stove, I glanced over my shoulder to check on E. She was over in the corner, by the door, up to something – I think she was hoarding a piece of cracker she found on the floor.

“What do you have?” I asked suspiciously.

That was enough to trigger her flight instinct. She grabbed the doorknob in a storm of giggles. She could only get the door open about a half-foot, so I waited to see what she would do. Apparently, that was all she needed to squirm through. I rushed to her side, reached for her arm, but she quickly made it outside and into the hallway.

I ran after her, forgetting that we live in a building that has one other apartment and a business on the other side of the hall, and that I was in my underwear…

I realized my situation once I was in the hall, pant-less, in a very public, drafty place. I hid behind a corner wall and peeked around to see where E was. She was standing against the opposite wall, no shirt on, giggling, next to one of the office doors, waiting for my next move.

I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, as no one had come out of the office yet, and it was 5:00 PM -- only a matter of time before the end-of-business-day mass-exodus.

“Ellie! Come here!” I whisper-yelled.

She laughed harder.

“Ellie, right now!!” a little louder…

I heard some commotion on the other side of the office door, so I ducked back into our apartment. Most of the employees know me and E, so I wasn’t too worried about someone finding her out there. I might just look like a not-so-great mom who has no idea where my half-dressed kid is... I ran in my bedroom and grabbed my jeans, throwing them on quickly.

I ran back out in the hall. Someone had come out of the office and must have scared her. She was now standing, pouting, terrified outside our door. I quickly pulled her inside.

I told her that she couldn’t just leave whenever she wanted – that I didn’t want to lose her or have her get hurt out there, but I couldn’t keep a straight face. I’ll do better next time.

No burnt food, slightly over-cooked macaroni, and no one saw me in my skivvies. I'm counting this as a parenting win.

Running Away From Ham

E having a sad moment at day care.

I feel like every morning is like the Amazing Race, even today, though more successful than yesterday, was a blur of lunch boxes, neon pink clothing, curls, and one orange sneaker. Then the sounds -- of my nagging voice, Mark’s calm one, and one whiney toddler. Oh, the whining…

“Use your big girl voice.”
“But I don’t want to wear a shirt….!”
“Here. How about this purple one?”
“No, no, no!!”

And, off she runs, to hide in the corner near the front door.

I finally grab the first shirt I find and try to make it fun… It is the I Rode the Prudent Living Train t-shirt – 3 sizes too big, but I’m desperate. I also realize that it’ll require a warmer sweatshirt over it, but I decide to deal with that later (or let the day care teacher handle it).

“Here you go, how about a train shirt!?”
“YEAH!!” she cheers.

Yeah, happy toddler! I keep my cheer to myself, not wanting to jinx it, then take advantage of the next few minutes of happiness to get her diaper changed, pants and socks on.

Then I find a sweatshirt. But she wants a fleece sweater. Ok, fleece sweater it is. NO, now she wants the sweatshirt. I put both on the floor for her to choose and put on. She picks the sweatshirt.

Mark helps her into her shoes, then she runs up to me in the kitchen, where I’m finishing up her lunch.

“Mommy, I want ham, please!”
“You can have a piece,” I say, as I attempt to hand her a slice.
“NOOOooo!! I want that plate!”
“That’s the plate with your sandwich on it. You can have another plate for your slice of ham.”

I hand her a paper plate with a slice of ham on it. She screams “Nooo,” and throws it on the floor. And, now I’m ticked off. I am patient, and I have raised a good kid. I pick my battles wisely, sometimes letting her do things I wouldn’t normally encourage, because she asks nicely. And, 90% of the time, I have an angel – she knows that she will usually get what she wants (within reason), if she is gentle, nice, and does not whine. And, when I do say "No," she knows that there is an alternative solution -- a compromise, so we have fewer temper-tantrums. We discuss more, we bargain. We communicate. I'm proud of how far we've come.

But, when we do discuss, compromise, communicate, and I give her what she wants, and she throws it on the floor. ARGH!

“Absolutely not! You will pick up that plate right now!”
“No!!”
“Excuse me?? You don’t say no to me. Pick it up now.”

She refuses, so I lead her over to the plate to help me pick it up and put the ham in the garbage. Then she runs back to her corner to pout. I go back to finishing up her lunch.

Then I hear the door close.

Mark says, “Did she just?”
“Yep, she just left,” I said, nonchalantly.
“I’ll go get her.”

“Okay.” Fine. Whatever. She can’t get far, can’t open the door at the top of the stairs. But, did my not-even-2-year-old just run away from home for the first time? Because of… ham? I cringe to think what other tricks she’ll have up her sleeve in a few more months.

Mark came in holding her. She wore an exaggerated pout, pointed right in my direction, from the safety of his arms.

She got her coat on, and somehow we all managed to get out the door on time, hugs and kisses, and I-love-yous all around.

Can I Just Say...

YAWWWNNN... Ugh. What a Monday morning. Mark and I had complete communication failure this morning. Yesterday, I had asked him if he would mind bringing E to day care, so that I could get to work at a more decent time (since I have to be to work earlier than him).

He swears he agreed to this, but all I remember is him wandering off silently to never speak of it again. As usual, I interpreted this as a "no" and went about my Monday morning as usual. I got myself ready, made lunches, then turned around to find Mark all ready but not E.

"What's going on?" I asked.
"I'm just getting myself ready. You're getting her ready, right?" he said, sleepily.
"No. I don't know. Why?"
"The new plan, right? You get her ready, then I take her to day care?" he asked.
"Did we agree to that? You didn't say anything."
"Yeah, I did. I was like, 'Oh yeah, fine.'"
"Yeah... 99% sure you didn't say anything."
"Well, are we doing it or not? I can go either way with this..."

So, I rushed to get E ready in time for him to take her to day care, trying to make sure that he wasn't late for work.

Once they were gone, I proceeded to clean the kitchen, look everywhere for the key to the office (which I never found -- thank God for early-arriving coworkers who could let me in this morning), and plopped down in my chair at work ready to conquer my day.

Then I had a meltdown, because I didn't get to see her off to day care, as I have almost every day for the past year and a half. I can't get her face out of my mind, her big eyes, looking up at me all confused, asking, "You take me, Mommy?" and me having to tell her, "No, Daddy will take you today, but I'll pick you up."

My little 1.75-year-old, looked up at Mark, then back at me. Then, she reached out for his hand and casually walked out the door. No tears. I know this is a good thing, but sometimes I'm not ready for her to be so grown up.

And, in this moment, a (relatively) smooth Monday morning getting out the door leaves me a nervous wreck and weepy. This mom stuff is so weird...

Up next: grocery shopping, dinner prep, cleaning the apartment, then getting ready to head off to New York on Wednesday for our very first 7-day vacation with friends (and E)!

Winter in October

Last week, it actually snowed in the mountains! I didn't grow up up around mountains, so as I drove toward them on the way to bring E to day care, I giddily pointed out the beautiful white-capped peaks on either side of our car. She happily shouted about "snow," which I'm not sure she remembers from last year.

When I headed back that way in the afternoon, to pick her up from day care, I wondered if I could reach the snowy part of the mountain. It was hard to tell from a distance how high the snow was. I got E in the car and asked her if she wanted to try to find some snow. "Yeah!" she said. We headed for the base of the peak.

I was really skeptical about actually reaching the snow, and I imagined telling Mark about our little adventure and him laughing at me, in that, "Oh, aren't you so cute and naive" tone.

I figured that, even getting closer to the snow would be fun for E, so we forged ahead. As we got closer to the mountain, I started noticing little clumps of snow on the ground. It was almost like a line on the ground -- no snow, then snow. As we drove a mile further, it was like someone had flipped a switch, and it was winter. There was snow everywhere -- about 2 inches on the ground, trees covered, snow-topped roofs.

It was eerie, how fast it changed. It was like stepping onto the set of a movie. E was in shock. "What is that, Mommy?!" she asked, concerned.

"That's a lot of snow!!" I cheered. She really didn't remember snow from last year. We parked at the now-closed ski area and got out to play. She was scared at first and didn't even want to walk in it, but when I set her down and marched around in it myself, she started to jump and run in it. We made foot prints, snowballs, and took in the scenery.

Then back home to autumn in our little valley. The next day, snow fell at our house. Here it comes!

Just Tell Me I'm Pretty

We put in a rough day today. We're still fighting these colds, or allergies. It's like a little cough, little sniffles, no fever, but it just won't go away.

E was handling it well for the first week, but today, she seemed as annoyed as we were as the hacking and nose wiping continued.

I had lazily come in yesterday afternoon and tossed my purse on the couch. E was now unzipping the makeup pocket and rummaging through it. I looked on, disinterested, until I noticed her putting on my lip gloss.

"Hey, wait!" I said, as she glided the gloss across her top lip and through a gooey glob of snot that was running out of her nose. I let out a defeated, "Eh, who cares" sigh and let her continue.

She climbed up on my lap and proceeded to put some gooey lip gloss on my lips. I didn't even protest. "Sure, make me into the sad clown I feel like today."

Then I put on my Mommy hat and said, "Okay, now it's time to put the lip gloss away." She tightened her grip on the tube of gloss.

"Listen," I said calmly, "We already used the lip gloss. We need to put it away." I pried it from her hands. This triggered a screaming, doll-throwing, couch-punching, lay-on-the-floor-and-scream-like-I'm-dying temper-tantrum.

"You're fine," I said.

She got up and ran straight into Mark's arms. He scooped her up and cradled her like a baby. She sobbed on his shoulder. He smiled at me like, "Can you believe this?" and we shared a silent "Holy cow..." moment. E turned and pouted at me, crocodile tears brimming her eyes, slipping down her cheek.

"I want that lipstick, Daddy!!" she wailed, in her best "Can you believe my mother?" tone.

Mark backed me up, "You already put some on. And you know what? You look very pretty."

She stopped crying, looked up at him, gave him a little smile, squirmed out of his arms, and ran off to play.

I stared up at Mark, slightly shocked. I know that she just wants us to listen to her, to justify her feelings, even if we think they're irrational. I get that. I want that when I'm upset too.

But Mark also told her that she was pretty, which on some level made her feel better -- even if it was just a reminder that she still had lip gloss on.

Our daughter is, of course, always beautiful, but this was not one of her "prettier" moments -- meaning only that she was grumpy and tear-streaked.

Mark caught me staring up at him, teary eyed and in awe of him. "What?" he asked.

"You told her she was pretty."
"Yeah."
"Hmmm."

I thought a long time about why this meant so much to me, and I decided that it was because he saw her as beautiful, when she had hit toddler rock-bottom -- the same way he saw me during the worst days of my pregnancy, after birthing a baby.

I was so in love with him in that moment today, connecting these brief glimpses of him as a husband and father, realizing that he always sees his girls this way -- never as broken, just as abstract, colorful pieces, that maybe don't quite fit together yet, that maybe are never meant to, that maybe are pretty just the way they are.

Fire Alarms

The Concerned Look

E has been so afraid of fire alarms ever since they started having fire drills at day care. Mark and I have done everything we can think of to help her to not worry. I've explained them to her, found a cartoon about them. We've had pretend fire drills at our house and in the dollhouse. I hold her up to have her give the fire alarm a high-five. We've told her that we don't have them at home, only at day care and that we would only leave our house like that in an emergency.

I think she gets it... but she still worries, particularly before bed. OR she just tries to keep me in her room by bombarding me with questions about fire alarms. The jury's still out.

Either way, I take her before-bed concerns seriously. She seems genuinely nervous. Also, if my anxious tendencies are hereditary, this kid is going to have a lot of night-time anxiety. So, just in case, I cater to her a bit.

This is our (almost every-night) conversation:

"Mommy!!!! Mommy!!!" she yells from her room. I go in.
"What is it?"
"I'm scared of fire alarm."
"Ok, why are you scared?"
"I hear it beepin'."
"It's not beeping right now. Could it have been a noise outside?"
"Yeah. Maybe a car? Or a truck."
"Yep. If you hear it again and you're scared, just let me know. I have to put you down now."
"Mommy? I just want to talk about fire alarms a little more."

Oh my goodness... could this child be any cuter?

"Ok, what do you want to know?"
"I go in crib at day care."
"Yes, they put you and your friends in a crib to wheel you outside quickly."
"But I in crib at home?"
"Your crib at home is just for sleeping. At day care, you use a mat for a nap, but at home you get a comfy crib to sleep in all night."
"No fire drill?"
"No fire drill at home. We would only go out in an emergency."
"Just an emergency?"
"Yep, and you don't have to worry about that, because I would come get you. I'd scoop you up in my arms and take you outside."
"Ok. Don't have worry?"
"Nope. You let Mommy worry."

Mommy has been worrying a long time. You can put it all on me, kid. I have years of experience. :-)

Last night at dinner time, I said to her, "You know what?"
And she said, "I love you?"
Ha! Do I really tell her that so often that she knows what I'm going to say before I say it? "Good," I think, "She knows."

I cracked up, "Yes. Exactly. Well, I was going to say that, 'I wished for you my entire life, and I never imagined I'd have such a beautiful, sweet, smart little girl. I'm so proud of you every day.'"

She gave me a big ol' goofy smile, a nod, and a big hug.

Even as we dive head-first into this "terrible-two" stage, I have to say, this mom thing just keeps getting better.

Baby Bullies

First of all, that's my husband in this picture -- not the baby bully. Please don't hunt him down and beat him up... :-D

I wasn't sure I wanted to write a post about bullying for my blog. It's such a "thing" right now, and I want to focus on building up the good in my little one, more than spreading the negativity. Still, I feel the need for some mom-advice here. Any tips, suggestions, please comment below.

So, here goes:

Last week, we went to the Ben & Jerry's park. We've had an entire year of great park experiences there. It can be a little touristy, but I've never minded -- mainly because most tourists are here to celebrate our pretty state and enjoy being friendly with us, the "locals." Ha! I've met some really fun moms and kids.

This time, there was a family of a mom and her 4 kids at the park. I'm guessing her kids' ages were: 18, 12, 7, and 2 or 3. E ran up the playground steps to start her usual routine: steering wheel, log cabin, slide, repeat. When she got to the steering wheel, the 2-year-old ran up next to her and tried to use it too -- no big deal, we're used to this.

E said, "It's my turn!!"
"Yes, it is. Take turns, please!" I said to both of them.

He didn't listen (I get it, he's 2.), and she decided she'd rather move on to the log cabin. He followed her in. She sat on the bench. He sat next to her, then pushed her off. She fell down.

"Hey, no pushing, please!" I said sternly.

E got up and left the cabin. He followed her and pushed her again. I looked up to find his mom. She ran by me and almost knocked me over. Her oldest son was right behind her. If any of you know the Ben and Jerry's playground, you'll know that it's not very big. It's one structure with 2 ways to climb up, 2 slides down, and a bridge. Small. The mom and her other 3 kids were chasing each other all over the structure and around it. As I got E back on her feet, she started across the bridge, and the 7-year-old crashed right into her, while chasing his mom.

His mom yelled, "Be careful," as she laughed and chased after her oldest son.

I picked up E and told her that maybe it was best if we left. She wanted to do the slide. All the kids were now off the structure, so I told her to go ahead. As she climbed the steps to the slide, the 2-year-old came up and pushed her off. "Hey, stop!" I said, but he climbed up and went down the slide without listening. E seemed okay, and she climbed up and went down the slide. The mom was now gone, running in the field next to the park with her other kids while her 2-year-old was left on his own at the park.

Another mom was just as surprised and annoyed as I was. We both left.

I really try not to judge other moms. I think it's great to run and play with your kids. The 2-year-old was a mess -- dirt from head-to-toe, matted hair, long fingernails, ripped clothes. But, E definitely does not go the park pristine, especially after she's played in the mud at daycare. And, have you tried to cut the nails on a toddler? I imagine it's not unlike de-clawing a cat in your garage. E also goes to day care and the park with the occasional case of bed-head. It wasn't that... it was just that, all those things together made it seem like, the kid was a bit "on his own." And, independence is good, but... he was in need of a little guidance.

In retrospect, it's easy to say what I would have done, but I wish I had flagged down the mom to talk to her child. Though E is learning to stand up for herself, she looked to me a few times, like, "Mom, are we going to let this happen?" And the answer was, of course, "No," but to prevent it, we had to leave our favorite park. She cried when we left -- you know, that "It's not fair," cry. And it wasn't.

Next time, I will speak up more for my kid. I promise. Even if it's hard. Even if the other mom hates me or picks a fight. I will do it. And, if it's horrible, I hope you'll all support me here. I will run back to the understanding arms of my readers! Haha!

The silver lining? There always has to be one, right? I must find it! For me, in this case, it's that: I saw what my kid could be, and I know that she's not. There are times when she is mean, when she pushes or scratches. I worry that my discipline (stern voice, time-outs, coaching) isn't sufficient, that I'm not doing enough or will somehow mess up and turn her into a bully.

But, I know now, at least on some level, that I won't. She still acts out of anger sometimes. We all do, but she stops and thinks more often now. And, I think that the main reason she does is because, I'm there. The older she gets, the more I see her carrying my words with her. She hears my voice even when I'm not right by her side.

There are so many "rules" of parenting that people throw at you, but I think there's a lot to be said for just being there, in the moment -- to coach, to model the behavior you want to see in your child, and to have simple consequences in extreme situations -- if you misbehave, we leave.

Unfortunately, in this case, my kid received the "punishment" of leaving, even though I praised her for handling the situation well. So, next up -- me modeling some good "stand-up-for-ourselves" behavior.

What are your thoughts? Could I have handled this situation better?

(And a special thanks to my Facebook friends for all the great feedback!)

Moonshadow

"Hey, E! Go look out the window, and tell me what you see!"

She scrambles as fast as she can over the pile of clean laundry on the couch, puts 2 hands on the window sill and pulls herself up. She stares, wide-eyed at the night sky.

"Oh!! OH!!!! Mommy!!! Mommy!! Look!!!"

"What is it?"

"Oooh!!! It's the MOON!!"

"Isn't it pretty tonight?"

"Yuss." (sigh) "Moon shadow, moon shadow!" she sings.

I just love her so much.

She's always loved her moon! Other moon moments with E from the past year:
Moon & Stars
In the Light of the Moon
Mother's Day

It's amazing, looking back over the past year. You know, I get so down when I can't bring myself to blog every day, but look at all the moments I have preserved! I'm so inspired to keep writing, to document whenever I can.

This photo captures the moon perfectly last night, but it's not mine. Ha! Orignial photo here.

The Day I Planned

On any given day, I plan for a few things to go horribly wrong -- nothing catastrophic, just a spilled meal on the floor, E bumping her head. I don't know what it was about this day -- maybe the fact that day care's Columbus Day holiday hadn't made it into my planner before Friday or the fact that I was just feeling "blah" today -- I think from my flu shot. Low-grade fever and all-around icky feeling. I just couldn't plan for the series of events that followed this morning.

Day care was closed this morning, and Mark and I had to work out taking care of E while we worked. This involves a unique trade-off system in which we get as much work done as possible while the other works then trade off for any conference calls, etc. More often than not, the one in charge of E is still trying to keep up with work while answering email on the phone or sneaking a peek at the laptop.

That's exactly what I was doing when E ripped the mouse cord out of my computer. She slammed the mouse on the floor a few times then ran across the kitchen dragging it behind her. I let her go, as long as I could see her and worked with my track pad instead.

Then she came over and grabbed my iPhone charger cable. I grabbed the other end to prevent the cord from breaking. She pulled harder until I had to let go, and she tumbled to the ground.

I tried to distract her with a video and played between emails. I just had to get through 1 hour.
She threw a toy dog at my screen.
I took her in the kitchen to have a snack.
While I went to the fridge, she got her raisins out of the cupboard, opened them, dropped them on the floor.
I got a sleeve of crackers for her. I opened them halfway and handed them to her, like I would for Mark... forgetting that she was a toddler.
She dropped an entire sleeve of crackers on the floor.
While I went for the broom, she danced on the crackers.
I gave her a mug with some hot-cocoa in it. She did so well with a big-girl cup! Day care says that's all she uses there now.
I gave her a big-girl cup with her milk in it.
She dumped it on the floor and all over her shirt.
I took her in our room to change her. It was like trying to bathe a cat.
When I finally got it on, it was on backwards.
Ten minutes later, I got it on correctly.
She jumped off the bed and got herself wedged between a bag of clothes and a suitcase.
I tried to get her out as she went limp and laughed.
When I finally got her out, I was stuck.
She ran in the bathroom, turned on the sink, and soaked her clean shirt.
I caught up with her, ushered her out of the bathroom.
As I closed the door, she ran back in our room to wedge herself between the bag and suitcase again.
I got her out and brought her back to the kitchen where she stood on a chair at the counter.
The crockpot was within her reach, and I moved it, so she wouldn't get burned.
I burned myself on the crockpot.
I used a bag of broccoli to soothe my burn.
E cried, because she wanted to eat the broccoli.

Other tantrum-worthy moments:
She didn't want the purple milk cup.
She didn't want to eat carrots out of a green bowl.
She only wanted to eat macaroni out of the green bowl.

Throughout the day, I told her not to climb/stand on the furniture.
She jumped up on her chair, which tipped, and the back of the chair hit her nose.
It didn't look that bad, but her nose started bleeding.
And bleeding.
I got her nose to stop bleeding.
She climbed back up in the chair.
She did a somersault into the recliner.
And out of the recliner.

I gave her a bath, snuggled her, kept my cool (for most of the day).

She pinched me, scratched me, and hit me with a toy. She found a stray Sharpie and colored all over the floor. I scrubbed it for 20-minutes straight.

I yelled, I screamed, I cried, I put her in time-out.

She cried too, asked me, "What's wrong, Mommy?" "Are you sad, Mommy?" I know she just wanted my attention. She's never acted like this before, not all day. She was also exhausted. She stayed in her crib for 2 hours this afternoon, but refused to sleep.

Mark came home at 6:15 and took a phone call while I brushed her teeth, gave her fluoride, and read her a story. Then he put her to bed for me.

When he came out of her room, I asked him if he'd do the dishes for me and put E's lunch pail in the dishwasher for tomorrow.

He said, "Oh, I didn't plan on doing that tonight," got himself a yogurt, and sat down on the couch.

Any other night, I would have flipped... and given a really long, sarcastic, soliloquy about how today went exactly as I had planned. But, I didn't. And only because I was exhausted... and, more than that, I had decided that I was done parenting for the day. I would now plan to get some freelance work done and hold onto the one small aspect of my night that I could control -- work.

------

And, he just went into the kitchen and did my dishes... He must have sensed my eye daggers.

My Girl

My girl is almost 2-years-old. She's about 3 feet tall and 27lbs. When I put her to bed each night, she asks, "Mommy, rock you?" She wants me to rock her in my arms. The rule is that I have to be standing. I'm not sure why. She doesn't like to rock in a rocking chair. It's always been that way. I cradle her in my arms, a slender bundle of limbs. She looks up at me and smiles. I rock her back and forth and sing, "Be My Baby," the line, "For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three!" She holds her hand up, so I can give it a kiss. Then I nuzzle my nose against her cheek.

Soon after, my back gets sore, but I hold her long after I should, reminding myself that I won't be able to rock her like this for much longer. I put her down, and she rolls over. I keep singing while I rub her back, until she gets sleepy enough to fall asleep on her own after I walk out of her room.

I love these little moments with her.

Yesterday, I took her to get ice cream. I've always gotten her vanilla. Chocolate ice cream isn't a favorite. Ice cream doesn't usually agree with me, but I treated myself to a tiny scoop of Ben & Jerry's Pumpkin Cheesecake. 'Tis the season, after all. She wanted to try my ice cream and proceeded to eat the entire cup. She even took my spoon away as I tried to get a bite in.

"Hey, I want some. Can I have my spoon back?"
"No."

Finally, I convince her to return my spoon and decide to have a few bites of the vanilla.

"No, that's mine!" she protests.

Apparently, both ice cream cups are hers. I explain to her that we're sharing this time, and she eventually agrees. She's happy to have the pumpkin flavor all to herself.

We play at the park, visit with the cows, then head home.