tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52510298087508047772024-03-13T15:01:52.617-05:00...plus oneJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.comBlogger215125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-40378356149909218142013-01-11T21:43:00.002-06:002013-01-11T21:43:21.295-06:00Around and aboutI did not realize until I looked in my Google Reader feed that I had not updated since August. I really have very good intentions; this was not an on-purpose abandonment. And it's not like I'm never online, for goodness' sake; I'm online most nights after Elle goes to bed. This simply hasn't become part of my daily online routine, for whatever reason.<br /><br />I'm on other online platforms where I'm active and regularly interact with others, and this journal just isn't part of that. I have to consider that the universe might be trying to tell me something. If I decide to stop, at least I can archive/save my posts here, so it's not like I'll lose the content.<br /><br />Not really ready to make that decision today, but clearly it's something I need to consider.<br /><br />So, what's new since August? Well, I have a two and a half-year-old Elle blazing a trail through life. And blazing she is; she is smart and opinionated and bossy and sassy and wants to do everything, right now. In other words, a pretty typical toddler.<br /><br />She's off the charts verbally; she's been speaking in complete sentences for longer than I can remember, and uses mutisyllabic words in their appropriate context all the time. ("Spectacular" was her word last week.) People regularly think she's about a year older than she is based on how well she speaks. "Mommy, you crack me up!" is one of my favorites. She also is ALREADY bargaining about why she doesn't need to nap: "I can only sleep when the stars are out!" is the current rationale.<br /><br />If she was a year older, though, hopefully she'd be potty trained-- something she has absolutely NO interest in. Zero. Zip. Nada. And as I have already learned with a hundred other things, there's no point in forcing; it ain't never gonna fly.<br /><br />One day, underwear or M&Ms or something is going to matter enough to Elle that she'll engage. Until then, I keep the potty seats around, we read books, I ask her if she wants to sit on the potty-- and that's it. Pushing it will only make it a battle, and there's no point in that.<br /><br />She's really fighting her naps right now. Based on my extensive research ("extensive research" = "messing around on Google") she really still needs the nap, and I should just keep putting her down. Our pediatrician agrees. The problem with no naps, during the week at least, is that by the time I pick her up she's exhausted, is a meltdown machine, and then goes down earlier than she used to so we have little time together after work. While I don't mind an evening to myself occasionally, it means our weeknights have been pretty short lately.<br /><br />And then, of course, on the weekends I still really need her to nap! I get an awful lot done during that time. I have no problem leaving her in her crib for a while-- she's perfectly happy there with her stuffed animals-- but I don't really relax when she's not sleeping, so I'm exhausted by the end of the day as well.<br /><br />This too shall pass, I know. Just like everything else. And she's eating like a horse lately, so perhaps the no nap/big appetite is something developmental.<br /><br />** **<br /><br />In terms of non-Mommy stuff, I've finally dropped a few pounds and feel a million times better. I firmly believe that one can be healthy at (almost) any size, but I personally feel better within a certain range (and don't need to buy all new clothing), so it's good for me to stay there. FYI, that range is not what all the fancy charts and graphs tell me I "should" weigh-- but it's the range where I function better, where I'm not so tired after going up stairs, where my knees don't ache, where I feel a little more confident about myself. (The charts can go to hell. If I weighed what the charts told me to weigh, I wouldn't have a curve left on my body and I'd only be able to eat about four times a week to maintain it. Sorry, not interested.)<br /><br />I have a few pounds to go before I'm solidly within my own personal range, but I'm far closer than I was two months ago, and that's worth celebrating.<br /><br />I'm trying to exercise, and read more, and am enjoying some trashy television shows. Life as a single parent isn't glamorous, but it's pretty okay.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-89531655303930169022012-08-12T22:35:00.000-05:002012-08-12T22:35:00.843-05:00I know many parents that have trouble watching the news, or reading true crime stories, or doing things like that any more. They could before they had kids. Now, with kids, it’s too hard.<br /><br />Every story you see about an abused child could be your child. Every teenage drug overdose could, someday, be your teenager. The kinds of things that can go horribly wrong is, honestly, too much sometimes.<br /><br />I said to a friend at work, who has two adult boys who seem to be nice, well-adjusted, good, employed kids: “You must thank God every day that your boys turned out well.” And she said she did. Every day, she gives thanks that they are healthy, happy, productive members of society.<br /><br />The sheer number of things that can go wrong is breathtaking, and the fact that probability is on your side is not particularly comforting. Sure, way more kids turn out fine than turn out to be screwed up. But the path to getting there—to knowing that your child is going to be OK—is terrifying and heartbreaking and really freaking hard. When you’re a single parent, it’s even harder, because it is 125% on YOU. There’s no one sharing the fear—sure, there are other people who love your child, and hope that your child succeeds, but it’s not the same.<br /><br />I watch Elle sometimes. She’s so inquisitive and thoughtful and funny. She’s increasingly adventurous. She remembers things—so many things, in some cases things I wish she’d forget. She’s constantly asking questions and more and more drawing her own conclusions. She has clearly stated likes and dislikes. She is taking on the world every day, figuring out her place in it, and claiming it for her own.<br /><br />I hope all of that energy and intelligence and sass goes in the right direction. I hope I can help her become the amazing woman I know she can be. It’s a serious responsibility, and it’s a privilege.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-55687305243939903512012-08-10T22:51:00.004-05:002012-08-10T22:51:42.874-05:00In one week, we leave for a short (five night) vacation with friends. We're renting a house. Not on a lake, but not far from one, and the setup looks perfect for one couple, two singles, and a toddler.<br />
<br />
Plus, the house has a screened-in porch, which may not be technically necessary, but is going to be <i>awesome</i>.<br />
<br />
We took a two-night trip to visit the lake house of friends last weekend (the sitter was off) and Elle loved the beach and the sand, and got more and more brave with each moment that passed. So I'm looking forward to being able to spend a bit more time<br />
<br />
My parents are coming over and staying in a B&B for a couple of the nights we're there. Of course, it's gone from "we'll be in town, we'll get together for dinner once, we don't need to spend all the time together" to "what are we doing for dinner every night?"<br /><br />This really wasn't intended to be a family vacation with them. Oh, well. It's still a vacation.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
On our mini-vacation last week, I tried out sleeping in the same room as Elle. Hahahaha. Let's just say we won't start cosleeping anytime soon. Elle wakes up between sleep cycles; most nights, in her own room, she goes right back to sleep. Sometimes she'll make a little noise, but she's out again very quickly.<br />
<br />When Mama's in the room, she <b>remembers</b>. She wakes up, sits up, and wants to par-tay. It's really funny, unless it's 2:30 in the morning and you're tired...<br />
<br />
So yeah. No cosleeping in this family.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-21066861713699590942012-07-26T21:44:00.000-05:002012-07-26T21:44:00.419-05:00Help! Help!Elle's new thing: “Help! Help, Mama! Help!” said in a very dramatic tone of voice.<br />
<br />
The first couple of times, I thought something was really wrong and
rushed to wherever she was; now I realize that for some reason this is
her standard response to wanting some kind of assistance (not usually
NEEDING it, but WANTING it) and so I don’t take it as seriously.
Eventually I need to work with her on the whole concept of “crying
wolf,” but right now I just find it hilarious to hear this little wee
voice piping “Help! Help!” when it’s often something as serious as the
fact that she wants someone else to pick up her crayon for her.<br />
<br />
<br />
I have a tiny Drama Mama. I have <i>no </i>idea where that comes from. None. Nope.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-30624739956199042662012-07-25T21:42:00.000-05:002012-07-25T21:42:00.299-05:00Know your limitationsThings I am not and will never be<br />
<br />
<br />
1. A model.<br />
<br />
2. Skinny like a model.<br />
<br />
3. Patient.<br />
<br />
4. Patient like Caill0u's mother. Or any of the adults on that
godforsaken show. They are calm, patient and loving even when I (or any
real-life parent, I suspect) would be shrieking like a crazed harpy.
They’d probably just laugh warmly and say “Oh, Call0u!” if he
accidentally set off a nuke.<br />
<br />
5. Rich.<br />
<br />
6. Someone who cooks each meal from scratch using only wholesome organic
ingredients. ("Just whip up a couple of batches over the weekend!"
Bitch, please. You are obviously married and/or have household help.
Or you have a child that takes three-hour naps. Or all of the above.)<br />
<br />
7. Good at going to bed early. We’ve been having some two-year-old
sleep regression at Casa Plus One, and by the time she’s down, I have so
little time to myself that I am reluctant to go to bed. I need to get
over that. Sleep = health = really, really important.<br />
<br />
<br />
Speaking of #7, yawn.<br />Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-544224477765052222012-07-23T21:38:00.002-05:002012-07-23T21:38:36.184-05:00Happy, happy birthdayI have been absent for a while! Combine being very busy at work, a week of vacation at my parents’ (which was not precisely a vacation, which is another post), and me dumping a giant glass of lemonade smack on top of my laptop—- and you have a distinct lack of posting.<br /><br />(I still had internet access; I have several other devices on which I can get FB, e-mail, etc. But I don’t like typing on a netbook. I now have a work laptop on a temporary basis, and need to figure out finances to see when I can afford a new laptop of my own. It may be a while.)<br /><br />The big news is that Elle is TWO YEARS OLD. Two! People tell you it flies by but you don’t believe them until all of a sudden you’re having a conversation—an actual conversation-- with your two-year-old daughter about Caill0u, and you realize… wow. Two.<br /><br />I think I said this last year, but I'll say a variation of it again: I have made it through two years as a single parent. It hasn't always been pretty, mind you, but at the end of the day I have a healthy, happy daughter and that's really all that matters. Just ignore the piles of laundry in the corner and don’t look at my basement, thanks.<br /><br />Happy birthday to my girl. I love you.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-45502912035101584462012-06-24T07:58:00.001-05:002012-06-24T07:58:23.052-05:00Not the kind of overachieving I was hoping forWe're on Day Four of Sick House, which sounds like a PBS miniseries, and certainly is quite dramatic, but is not nearly as well-costumed. Elle managed to combine catching a virus <i>and </i>strep, which has led to several days of lousy appetite, a refusal to drink anything but water, and general crankiness. (On my part AND hers!) The antibiotic took care of the strep quickly, but the virus just has to work its way through.<br />
<br />So far I seem to be OK. We'll see if it lasts. Apparently if you're going to catch strep it takes three days, and I don't see anything. Yet.<br />
<br />
I'm used to the picky eating, but the refusing milk is just strange for my kid. Elle would do nothing but drink milk all day every day every night FOREVER if you let her, so this is completely not normal. And she won't have anything to do with juice, either, no matter what I do to fancy it up. She also wants nothing to do with ice cream, sherbert, or popsicles. I haven't tried a slushy, but it's a good bet that won't work, either.<br />
<br />
Friday she barely drank anything, but fortunately yesterday she was at least drinking water (not as much as I would like, but she had the required number of wet diapers, so...) and at dinner last night, she ate more than she'd eaten since Wednesday. It certainly wasn't BRAT-diet approved, but if she's gonna eat Pirate Booty, Mama's gonna feed her Pirate Booty. (Also, applesauce, which I forced into her. I hate doing that, but needs must.)<br />
<br />
At least she's been sleeping well at night and napping well during the day (I was even able to work from home a little both Thursday and Friday), so that's good. She's starting to stir now and I am hopeful today's the day she goes back on her normal picky toddler diet.<br />
<br />
This is one of those times when it would be much, much easier to be parenting with a partner. There's no respite. To be fair, I didn't put out a call to the troops (my friends) asking for help; I know people would have come by. But with a partner, they're just <i>there</i>, and if you're trying to get medicine down your struggling toddler's throat there's someone else to help. That would be nice.<br />
<br />But we're fine, we're hopefully on the mend, and I should get back to work tomorrow. Right before I go away for the week of the holiday. :)Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-28145332905023323722012-06-16T20:58:00.000-05:002012-06-16T20:58:00.129-05:00Elle in motionI sometimes marvel at how smooth her skin is, how warm her cheeks are, how soft her curls are. She's so busy that she rarely has patience for my hand on her arm or my touch on her face; she has to get on to the next thing and the next thing. Her schedule is <i>packed</i>, after all. I'm just a speed bump in her race to world domination.<br />
<br />
And then, one night this week, she touches my arm gently, drawing her hand along it like I've done with hers, and looks at me and smiles.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-48197981066710421292012-06-15T12:15:00.002-05:002012-06-15T12:15:21.491-05:00RoutineI have to admit I've always been the kind of person who likes a routine. I realize that probably makes me dull (and if this admission is the <i>first </i>time you've thought I was dull, then I'm shocked), but it is who I am. I love getting away and doing new things, but on a regular basis I like a fairly predictable life.<br /><br />As a single person, this probably meant I was "not adventurous enough" and "too rigid." As the single mother of a toddler, this is freaking AWESOME and the best thing ever and I WIN.<br /><br />Show me a parent who says their toddler doesn't do well with a routine and I'll show you a parent who's probably not really paying attention to their child. I am guessing there's an age where routine becomes less critical, but it's certainly not when they're very young.<br />
<br />
(I do not consider myself a parenting expert, and I generally don't want to say "this is how you should do things!" But this particular case is a big whomping exception to that.)<br />
<br />
I'm not saying you can't/shouldn't be spontaneous-- that's nuts. Elle gets a late bedtime or an on-the-go meal every so often. (Note that I do not mess with The Nap. Never mess with The Nap, man. Never. Unless you are CRAZY and have a <i>DEATH WISH</i>.) But I strongly believe that young children, with their limited capacity to understand their world and even more limited capacity to control it, respond best to a home life that is structured and predictable. They may not want a bath, but the fact that a bath is part of their evening routine (most nights, anyway-- ahem. Don't judge me!) is comforting, understandable, and helps them feel safe.<br /><br />Most moms I know, and parents I've known, embrace this. After all, having your child(ren) on a routine means your own life is easier to manage; if you know they go to bed at 8, you know that by 8:15 (hopefully) you can pay your bills or wash your kitchen floor or relax and watch some TV. But I know at least one family that has never had their daughter on a routine, and while she's a sweet, bright little girl, she is also a holy friggin' terror. Elle can have some truly monumental meltdowns, but this girl's put Elle's to shame.<br /><br />I understand the need to continue living as you lived pre-baby, but that's not always possible. Or wise.<br /><br />And I think what it's important to remember is that<b> it is not always going to be like this</b>. Routine will not always rule the world. You will not always be a slave to The Nap. You will not always have to worry about getting home in time to do a quickie version of the bedtime routine, in hopes that you are able to do this before your child becomes so overtired that sleep is only a mirage. You will not always have to have a baggie of Cheerios in your bag or a sippy of water in your tote, because eventually your child will be old enough to <i>say </i>they're hungry or thirsty (not demonstrate it with a meltdown) and you can grab them a bottle of water and let them know you'll eat when you get home.<br /><br />The challenges associated with a small child are, fortunately, temporary. I know they give way to new challenges, of course.<br /><br />But for now, in my house I suck it up and get Elle by her regular bedtime as much as I can. In the long run, it's best for everyone.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-15698022379449306362012-06-04T22:27:00.003-05:002012-06-04T22:29:12.718-05:00My lifeI was talking to a co-worker today, and we somehow got on the topic of parenting. "I wish," she said, "that someone had just <i>told </i>me that I was going to be tired<i> all the time</i>."<br />
<br />
<br />
I know this isn't the most profound statement ever made about parenting, but it just rang true somehow in a very real way. I can take all the "me time" I want, I can have friends watch Elle to give me a break, I can do everything to take care of myself. No matter what, I'm pretty much tired all the time, deep down in my bones.<br />
<br />
I am not saying this to complain, either. I'm saying this like I might say that it's raining right now, or that I love brightly colored shoes. It's just a fact. A fact of life. Of <i>my </i>life, like my terrible curly hair or my poor vision or my pink-painted toenails.<br />
<br />
This is my life. It's a good life. It is not where I expected to be, no. But it is where I want to be right now.<br />
<br />
Even if I <i>am </i>always tired.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-35347446800409790042012-05-25T22:00:00.000-05:002012-05-25T22:00:03.162-05:00Another<br />
There's a single mom out there in the SMC-verse who's trying for #2. She's hopeful and excited and I'm glad for her.<br />
<br />
I am also a jealous, seething, green-eyed bitch about it. I can
disguise my envy in a number of ways-- she could barely afford the first
one, how the hell's she going to afford the second when she lives on
the razor's edge financially as it is-- but those are just fancy words
to cover up the fact that I am flat-out stone-cold jealous.<br />
<br />
Because she can try for #2. She has embryos on ice from when she was
younger, and an FET is a fraction of the cost of an IVF, plus you've
got a direct sibling of your existing child. I basically got one good
egg, and that's my Elle.<br />
<br />
I should note that she is one damn fine egg, and I am blessed and
lucky and proud. But because I started so late, even on megadoses of
drugs, I got few eggs and only one that was viable. You do this
younger, you end up with embryos to freeze, and
then you can take all the time you need (relatively) to figure out when you want them
popped in there. Heck, they're your biological child; you can even pop
them into someone else, if you have the money.<br />
<br />
All the money in the world isn't going to help my over-45 eggs do
anything productive. Even if I could afford the medical bills to get there, not to
mention afford all the expenses of a second child.<br />
<br />
I had a very vivid dream last night about finding out I was pregnant with #2-- vivid enough that I remember it, which I usually don't. I remember, in the dream, worrying about various things relative to another child. But mostly, I remember feeling really happy. <br />
<br />
I am, usually, at peace with having just one. I have an only child
of an only child of an only child, actually: three generations of total
brats, one could argue. :) (Although my father is totally not a
brat.) Emotionally and financially, I don't think I'm young or strong
enough to parent more than one.<br />
<br />
I have my miracle. I am so grateful. But that doesn't stop me wishing.<br />Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-92052849968498655112012-05-23T21:17:00.000-05:002012-05-23T21:17:26.544-05:00Mother's Day (better late than never?)It was a nice day. My parents were in, so they watched Elle while I
went to see <i>The Avengers</i>. I am a nerd and proud of it, man. It was
awesome.<br />
<br />
We went out to dinner that night, and I was reminded again how lucky I
am. Elle's a toddler, yes, but she's a pretty good toddler. She
stayed well-behaved through a dinner that lasted over an hour and a
half. It helped that there were crayons, and towards the end we started
pulling random crap out of our various purses in order to keep her
entertained, but she was exceptionally good (especially considering that
she started telling me "Mommy, I done!" at least 45 minutes before we
actually left).<br />
<br />
She also enjoyed the gelato. A LOT. We don't do a lot of sweet
stuff at home; her usual end-of-meal treat is fruit and maybe a graham
cracker. (I have a problematic sweet tooth, so I downplay the sugar for
her whenever I can.) But she went after the gelato with gusto, saying
periodically with great satisfaction, "Ice keem!"<br />
<br />
Elle just loves having my parents in town, and they love spending
time with her. I hope they end up living a little closer so they can
spend time with her on a more ongoing basis, rather than just really
intense long weekends. They're intense for me, too-- for all intents
and purposes I had not one minute of alone time from the Friday before Mother's Day to the Tuesday after,
when I put Elle down.<br />
<br />
People, I'm an only child. I'm an "I" on the Myers Briggs scale.
(Borderline E/I, but I nonetheless.) I need my time to myself. I just
do, and given that Elle is such a good night sleeper, I've been able to
have at least a little time to myself most days. Of course, often that
time is taken up with cooking or dishes or other household things, but
at least I'm alone. When my parents are around, we have to be together
ALL THE TIME.<br />
<br />
They love me. I love them. But my house does not provide space for breathing room.<br />
<br />
But all in all, it was a good Mother's Day. Talking with a friend at
work this week, who has a daughter just about a year younger than Elle,
we both reflected that we don't really think of Mother's Day as being
for us-- it's still more about being for our moms. I'm sure that will
change at some point.<br />
<br />
All I really want for Mother's Day, anyway, is a happy, healthy daughter. That, I have. I am very blessed.<br />Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-168782273945199532012-05-12T20:55:00.000-05:002012-05-12T20:55:00.739-05:00the universeI keep a running eye on where Elle is relative to clothes. We've
been blessed with a healthy stream of hand-me-downs to date, and while I
need to purchase things to supplement (socks and warm-weather pajamas,
mainly, along with special occasion clothes. And shoes), I've been able to largely
get by on gifts and hand-me-downs. We are very lucky, and I pass things
on to a friend with a daughter nine months younger than Elle, so we
continue the circle.<br />
<br />
Elle's solidly in a 2T right now, and has an insane number of summer
shirts, shorts, and dresses just waiting to be worn. I also found a decent store of warm 2T clothing that will be good for this fall. She's a
little limited on the transitional stuff (i.e. long-sleeved
t-shirts to get her through to the really hot weather), but I don't have
a problem with it; she doesn't mind wearing the same shirt every couple of weeks.<br />
<br />
In looking through my boxes (piled in the back of my rec room-- we're
classy like that) I realized that I have very little 3T stuff. She's
long, so she's been moving up into the next size midyear-- which may or
may not continue. Who knows? What I did know is that she has only a
small amount of 3T clothing waiting for her.<br />
<br />
Now, that's not a huge deal. I can certainly go out and buy a stock
of toddler clothes-- leggings, shirts, etc. I shop the sales, get my discount coupons. But I was starting to think
in the back of my mind that I needed to plan for this, and maybe keep an
eye open for clearance items, etc. It's just something I wanted to
make sure I budgeted for.<br />
<br />
Then I got an email from a friend today, who has a friend in another
state who has what appears (from the picture) to be a half-ton of 3T
clothes, all fairly neutral in terms of season. She's bringing them
back to me after her visit there over the Memorial Day holiday. This
friend of a friend is thrilled someone can use the clothes.<br />
<br />
Isn't it funny how the universe, somehow, provides?Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-82195954478042714022012-05-09T20:51:00.000-05:002012-05-09T20:51:17.615-05:00Oh, she is just ridiculously cute right now. Eating well (her menu
is still limited, but I'm slowly broadening it by introducing a couple
of new things a week with a backup plan), sleeping well, talking up a
storm. Running around like crazy (but has no interest in climbing on
furniture yet, which I am totally encouraging).<br />
<br />
She has started calling me "Mommy" more and more, although since her
birth I have referred to myself as "Mama" and always use that phrase
when I talk with her. She still uses Mama, but not always. Since I
think she's pretty much going to decide for herself, ultimately, I may
be heading in the direction of being Mommy. I guess that's OK.<br />
<br />
I think she's going to be a lefty.<br />
<br />
She's starting to really like having a blanket on her. She asks for
me to put it on her when I put her down. I've noticed that she also
likes sleeping on top of it when it's kind of bunched up, which is very
similar to how I sleep, though I use a pillow not a blanket.<br />
<br />
She has great big explosions of affection-- for me, for Bunny, for
random other toys or people. She'll run over to me, fling her arms
around my legs, and yell "MAMA!" Then, a moment later, she'll run back
to whatever she was doing. She'll say "Thank you, Mama!" with different
inflections, and laugh and laugh when I say "thank you" back to her
with the same inflection.<br /><br />
She loves the park, the swing, the slide. She loves running up and
down the tiny hill at the park near us. She is a happy, curious,
verbal, loving, outgoing little girl.<br /><br />
The whole world is opening up to her, and she wants it all, right now.<br />
<br />
I would like to take credit for the amazing little person she's
becoming, but truly: she's an amazing little person all on her own. I
am just lucky to be there to help when I can.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-90404437398458667972012-04-25T21:43:00.002-05:002012-04-25T21:44:21.300-05:00Yeah yeah yeahI am not feeling good about myself lately. I feel fat and tired and
old; the 20 pounds I have gained in the nearly two years since Elle's
birth are not good for me either physically or mentally. (Also, I'm
short. Short people can't gain 20 pounds with grace. We get very
round, very fast.)<br />
<br />
I have noticed that I carry myself differently. That I interact with
people differently. I am not happy in my own skin right now, and that
leads to a lot of negative things. It's a horrible Catch 22.<br />
<br />
There's no question that I need to do something about it (I can't
afford an entirely new wardrobe, for one thing), but today, as I tried
to force myself to stand up straight instead of slumping, I had one of
those moments where my brain was full of dislike for my body. FULL of
it. It was just a really horrible self-bashing moment. At the end of a
long string of thoughts hating on myself, I thought "And Elle deserves a
mother who's not a horrible cow!"<br />
<br />
(This gives you an idea of what I say to myself in my own head sometimes. It is not pretty. It is not healthy.)<br />
<br />
But as soon as that mean, nasty, self-hating thought went through my
head, it was followed by another: Elle could care less what I look
like.<br />
<br />
That thought stuck with me all day.<br />
<br />
She could care less. She doesn't care if I have fat rolls, or my
skin needs a chemical peel, or my roots are showing. She doesn't care
that I have one pair of jeans left I can get into, and they aren't
especially comfortable. She doesn't care that I probably need to size
up on my bras. She could care less how I feel about my body.<br />
<br />
To Elle, I am beautiful. I am her mom. I am the arms that hold
her. I am the hands that wash her face. I'm the chin she tucks her
head underneath as we read books before bedtime. All that matters to
her is that I'm there, every day, doing what I need to do.<br />
<br />
I need to lose the 20 pounds, yes. Elle deserves a healthy mom. But
I also, perhaps, need to stop letting the negative run the show, and
give myself a little bit of a break.<br />
<br />
I need to remember that the truly important voice is not the nasty one in my head. It's the little one shouting "Squirrels! Where are you?" as she runs ahead of me.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-10551893826813202762012-04-22T21:20:00.002-05:002012-04-22T21:20:46.513-05:00Hee(Wow, this new Blogger interface <i>sucks</i>.)<br /><br />Related to my earlier question about how Elle behaves in church...<br />
<br />
This morning, I continued my post-Easter focus on keeping Elle away from the center of the action. No wandering near the altar (it's a modified altar for the children's service), no wandering in the front of the aisle, etc.; I'm keeping her on the sides or in the back. Or, for a little while, with me in the pew.<br />
<br />
At coffee hour afterwards, one of the dads asked me "So where was Elle today?" I explained I was trying to keep her in some less-distracting areas during the service. "Oh," he responded. "I missed seeing her. I get bored when she's not around."<br />
<br />
Now, one can take this any number of ways. But man, I laughed my <i>ass </i>off.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-68761091173100322732012-04-16T20:01:00.000-05:002012-04-16T20:01:00.339-05:00More precious than goldWhen I went in to wake Elle up this morning, she looked every inch the poster child for a precious, healthy toddler-- tousled curly hair, flushed chubby cheeks. She wasn't crabby I woke her, either; she was just sort of sweet and fuzzy, happy to see her milk ("mi-uuuk") and her bunny ("bunny," no enunciation issues there) and me.<br /><br />I leaned over the edge of the crib and rested my hand on her curls, and thought "You. You are my treasure."Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-49281711496914633372012-04-14T21:00:00.002-05:002012-04-14T21:00:01.013-05:00Behave Yourself<p>I have about five readers (and I love each and every one of you) but today, I'm soliciting opinions from those of you with older kids.</p> <p>At what age did your children sit through a church service? Or, perhaps more accurately, at what age were you forcing them to sit through a church service?</p> <p>Some background: I was raised Catholic, but am now Episcopalian. (That describes half my congregation, actually. I only know a few "cradle Episcopalians"-- most of us are ex-Catholics. Although, as my dad says, being raised Catholic is kind of like being a recovering alcoholic-- you're always Catholic, even if you're not practicing. Heh. Anyway, I digress.)</p> <p>Our church is small but warm and supportive, and it has an active kids' program. We go to the children's service; it's short, and no one minds noise or activity. Elle is about as far from a shrinking violet as it is possible to get, so we spend most of the service walking around the church. She's quiet and well-behaved, and comes back for communion and part of the pre-communion stuff (she likes the Great Amen, and is a fan of bells), but mostly, we're active. She'll also stand in front of the little low altar (the space is customized for the kids' service) and watch, or dance if there's music.</p> <p>My parents think "children need to learn to sit still in church." And I agree with that. I also think, however, that an under-two toddler is not likely to sit still yet, and I don't care-- as long as she is quiet, and not disturbing anyone, it doesn't bother me if she wants to walk around.</p> <p>My mother actually said that she's quite sure that Elle is "bothering the crap" out of everyone at the children's service by her behavior.</p> <p>Now, I wouldn't allow her to do this at the full-fledged adult service. That's why we don't GO to the full-fledged adult service. There's a nursery, but right now she's in her clingy mama phase so she won't stay there. Our church also has a little side area for kids, with books and soft toys, but she's not really at the age where she has the attention span to stay there for more than a little while, so an hour-long service is just not a great idea right now. I absolutely agree she'd be a problem at that.</p> <p>But for the 30 minute children's service? Where kids are handing out communion and babies are on the floor?</p> <p>Opinions, moms, please. (If there's a dad out there, he's welcome to chime in as well.) Do I need to start forcing Elle to sit in my lap? Because I can do it; I'm a stone bitch if I need to be. I just feel like if she's quiet, and not getting in anyone's way, that it's all right. She goes to church every Sunday. She's starting to learn the songs. She knows many of the other kids and parents. We are part of the community there, and she looks at this as part of our life, and she will grow up with this community and this faith woven into her childhood.</p> <p>Isn't that my priority?</p> <p>If I'm off-base, please tell me.</p>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-85719466120941931672012-04-13T21:56:00.000-05:002012-04-13T21:57:45.619-05:00Wordy girlOnly a parent can truly understand how it is possible to love someone so much, and yet still want to drop them off at the nearest orphanage. <p>***<br /></p> <p>She can identify all the letters-- she sometimes gets confused about V and J, for some reason, but otherwise she has it down. She knows basic shapes. She knows most of her numbers through nine. She has absolutely no idea about her colors, but clearly, she's brilliant.</p> <p>Her language is also through the roof. She puts together intelligible full sentences now on a regular basis. Sometimes, it's babble, but more and more the babble is understandable. This past weekend my parents were here for Easter, and my dad was in the basement watching TV. The stairs are gated off, and Elle trotted over to the gate and called down "Papa! Where are you?"</p> <p>Sometimes, I think I'm mentally putting words into her mouth... and then I realize I'm not. She truly is just that verbal.</p>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-54578372654810504112012-03-31T21:10:00.000-05:002012-03-31T21:10:00.396-05:00A letter to my future self<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p>Someday, when Elle is grown and gone-- or simply doesn't want to spend time with her old mama any more-- remember this letter, read it, and believe it.</p><p>***<br /></p><p>Dear Me:</p> <p>I know you, and I know you well. Someday, you're going to beat yourself up about not being "in the moment" enough with Elle. You're going to remember only the days and times where you counted the seconds until bed/naptime, because you were tired, or Elle was tired, or you just wanted to get back to reading that book, or whatever. You're going to weep and wail about how you were too busy to just be, at the time in Elle's life where there was nowhere else she'd rather be than with you.</p> <p>Future Me, stop it. Right now.</p> <p>You did fine. Were you tired sometimes? Sure. Did you look forward to the evenings you had to yourself? Absolutely. Were you busy around the house and worried about what to feed Elle for dinner and thus not playing with her every second? Sometimes.</p> <p>Does this mean that you ignored your daughter, or that you were a bad mother, or that you should have thousands of painful lingering regrets?</p> <p>Hell no.</p> <p>Remember all the times she sat in your lap and you read together? Remember when you laid on the couch and she piled blocks on your back, laughing hysterically when you knocked them off? Remember when you'd be sitting on the floor playing with her and she'd tickle the skin on your lower back, and you'd wiggle and "shriek," and she'd laugh so hard she could hardly catch her breath? Remember the walks, and the playground visits, and the nights you sang lullabyes to her in the darkness of her bedroom and she sang along, not getting all the words but always matching you on the held notes at the ends of the phrases? Remember how she'd tuck her head onto your shoulder, humming?<br /></p> <p>It's humanly impossible to spend every moment of your non-working life laser-focused on your child. What's more, it's not healthy to do that; you don't want to raise an entitled brat (hopefully, Future Me, you haven't). Don't beat yourself up over it.</p> <p>Don't look back and regret the time you didn't spend with her. Look back and cherish the time you did.</p> <p>Love,<br />Past Me</p>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-13652795891316519552012-03-29T21:30:00.000-05:002012-03-29T21:30:00.464-05:00Operation Bunny<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p>A while back, Elle settled on a lovey. Say hello to <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bunnies-Bay-Wee-Plush-Petal/dp/B0013N5MX8/ref=sr_1_3?s=baby-products&ie=UTF8&qid=1332776937&sr=1-3">Bunny</a>, who was a shower gift from a friend of my mom's.</p> <p>(And let me say: THANK GOODNESS her lovey is something I was able to find a duplicate of.)</p> <p>Elle had a wide variety of possible loveys in her crib: two soft dolls, a sock monkey, a Piglet, a little blanket with ribbons on the side, a sheep, and a Pooh bear (original flavor, not Dis.ney, thanks). I know, I know, stuff in the crib is hazardous. I waited until she was older and mobile before I put anything in there, really I did.<br /></p><p>Bunny beat the competition, and now Bunny is who she holds on to as she's falling asleep. I have to give Bunny a kiss every morning, sometimes even before I can kiss Elle. If she wakes in the night, she reaches for Bunny (I can see it on the video monitor) and he helps her soothe back to sleep.</p> <p>Bunny is the shit, clearly.</p> <p>Bunny is also starting to look a little less than fresh, so I decided to order a backup. (Which I should have done a while ago, but I really did wait until I was sure.) Since the tag was still on Bunny's tush, it was simple; thanks to Amaz0n, I had Bunny #2 within a week or so (free super saver shipping rules, people. Rules.)</p> <p>The idea is that I'll switch out Bunny #1 for Bunny #2, then wash Bunny #1, and start rotating them more regularly so that, hopefully, Elle never realizes that Bunny is part of a set. The key was to do this when Elle doesn't realize that the newer, perkier Bunny #2 has taken the place of the beloved elder Bunny-- in other words, at night, when I'm putting her down in the near-dark. Eventually, both Bunnys will be fairly equally loved, and it won't be a concern, but the initial switch-- especially when the initial switch should have probably taken place some time ago-- is tricky.<br /></p>Strangely enough, whenever I tried to switch out Bunny, it's like she could sense it-- I somehow had a little toddler glued to my side. This, from the toddler who normally chugs around the second floor without any concern for me or my whereabouts, other than checking up on me if I get too quiet. (She does this when we're on the first floor, too-- just like I'll go looking for her if I'm in the kitchen and I don't hear anything, she'll come into the kitchen looking for me if I'm not making any noise. Each of us likes to keep tabs on the other, I guess. Although in my case, it's to halt the path of potential destruction and/or the Toddler Death Wish.)<br /><br />So Bunny #2 spent a couple of days in the medicine cabinet, until Monday night. Elle was busy moving diapers from her changing table to my bed (don't ask, it's a thing she does, along with pulling great armfuls of clothes out of her bureau and depositing them in my room) and I was able to make the switch.<br /><br />As best I can tell, nothing was amiss in the love affair of Elle and Bunny; she cuddled him and fell asleep after her usual 15-20 minutes of unwinding.<br /><br />In the future, Bunny will get rotated on a more regular basis. Bunny #1 is going to get a lovely bath, and I'll have to find somewhere to keep the Bunny-in-reserve. <p>I'm telling you, this is like a strategic spy mission or something.</p> <p>My lovey was a blanket (we didn't even call them "loveys" back then, did we?). When she realized that the only time I was sucking my thumb was when I touched the blanket, it got "left at Nana's," and while I waited for the postman every day for about a week, eventually I simply forgot about it</p><p>We'll see what kind of run Bunny has. Right now, he's on top of the world.<br /></p><p></p>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-61069468616843466552012-03-27T20:59:00.000-05:002012-03-27T20:59:00.063-05:00Just keep swimming<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p>The other night in the tub, Elle got very carefully on her stomach, balanced herself on both hands and one foot, and started looking over her shoulder to watch herself kick with her one free leg.</p> <p>I'm not very bright, so I had no idea what this was about. "What are you doing, sweetie?" I asked her.</p> <p>"I swih-ing, mama! Swih-ing!" She was swimming.</p><p>Periodically, she'd put her mouth in the water and blow bubbles, getting better at it over the course of the bath. She worked very hard on this swimming, only taking a break when I convinced her to sit down so I could rinse her hair. Every so often she'd say to herself, with great satisfaction, "swih-ing!"</p> <p>Her last swimming lesson was a few months ago, but clearly they made an impression.</p>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-91134428303619122262012-03-26T21:00:00.000-05:002012-03-26T21:00:01.473-05:00Mama<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapedefaults ext="edit" spidmax="1026"> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapelayout ext="edit"> <o:idmap ext="edit" data="1"> </o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--> <p>One of the things about being a mother that is still remarkable to me is that sometimes the only thing that can make Elle feel better is me. Me!</p> <p>That still boggles my mind.</p> <p>Sometimes she just wants to just sit on my lap and watch a cartoon. The cartoon itself isn't what she wants; she wants the closeness and the cartoon, together. I've noticed this happens when she's a little blue-- toddlers can get blue, too. It's not always meltdowns or cartwheels; sometimes they're in the middle, just like us. Sometimes they're just a bit down.</p> <p>It's distinct and separate from when she wants to sit on my lap and read-- those are much more active sessions, where she brings me a book, then turns around and plops down in the crook of my crossed legs and we read the book together. (Sometimes I read, sometimes she "reads," sometimes she just flips the pages.) She'll often do this over and over with numerous books. This is obviously something she enjoys; she's not doing it (just) because she needs the closeness.</p> <p>The other morning, she had to wake up far before she was ready, and just like I would be, she wasn't happy about it. She was kind of weepy, actually, which is unlike her. Most mornings when I wake her up, she pops right up and is her Elle-tastic self within a minute or two; I figure those are days where she was pretty much ready to get up anyway. Days where she's moany and weepy, I suspect she still had a bit more sleeping to do.</p> <p>Anyway, this other morning nothing was making her happy, and she was sitting in her crib, legs splayed, not wanting much of anything to do with her milk or Bunny or anything other than expressing her woe at the general universe. I was pottering around doing getting-ready things, but I finally just went over and picked her up and kissed her and talked to her.</p> <p>As soon as I was holding her, she was fine. I didn't put her on the changing table right away, either, which was a good case of mommy instinct. We talked a bit and cuddled, and by the time I put her down to change she had most of her equilibrium back.</p><p>Sometimes, <span style="font-style: italic;">I'm</span> what she needs. It amazes me. It's a privilege.<br /></p> <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-4825204755882768222012-03-24T14:39:00.000-05:002012-03-24T14:40:29.524-05:00It's like they know when we're about to lose it<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><p>Monday night, when I picked Elle up from the sitter, she was sweaty and tired and crabby and crying. She'd had at least one major meltdown at the sitter's already, and had another minor one while I was chatting with the sitter. We headed to music class, hoping for the best, but it was not to be-- for the first time, we left mid-class and headed home. (The soundtrack to the drive home was "Toddler Howling," which is not going to be in anyone's top ten anytime soon; it has no beat, and you can't dance to it.)</p><p>When we got home, the howling continued intermittently, including a major full-bore balls-out meltdown while I changed her diaper and got her in her onesie for bed. (My neighbors probably thought I was using a cattle prod.) I actually started laughing at one point, because what else can you do, really?</p> <p>We got back downstairs and I asked my screaming, blubbering, snotty mess of a daughter if she wanted a snack. She did, indeed, and suddenly the hot mess turned into a happy, chatting toddler who devoured most of a cereal bar and a pile of grapes, and even signed/asked for more grapes (it sounded like "moah gaes," but I knew what she was asking for because she was signing "more" and pointing at the grapes on the counter.)</p> <p>Seriously, she looked like a cherubic Gerber baby sitting there in her onesie-- tousled curls, rosy cheeks, chubby thighs, seriously eating the grapes by carefully placing each piece on a spoon by hand, and then eating it from the spoon. She could not have looked more stereotypically darling.</p> <p>And fifteen minutes earlier she'd been a bright red fountain of screaming snot and tears.</p> <p>For the record she then went to bed and slept like a log. I had a tired, hungry toddler.</p> <p>But I find it hilarious that somehow they know when you are Just Done, and manage to flip the switch just in time.</p>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251029808750804777.post-24755157303488575542012-03-13T21:00:00.001-05:002012-03-13T21:05:24.480-05:00A very random, train-of-thought kind of entryI've started looking for a play kitchen and a little table and chairs set for Elle. I think the table and chairs set has a slight edge in terms of priority; I'm also not sure how I'd fit both into our main living area, and while the basement can eventually become more of a play room than it is, she's not yet allowed down there (and won't be for a while; it's basically a toddler death trap of wires and unachored bookshelves, not to mention a furnace). So I'm thinking the table and chairs will be more useful, even though she immediately gravitates towards the little play kitchens at both the library play room and the church nursery. <p>(I can also just get her some play food, which she can play with on the table, and that will keep her pretty happy for now.)</p> <p>Anyway, the only play kitchens I can find available used tend to be the butt ugly plastic ones; the nice wood ones are mysteriously absent from resale. Is this because people love the wood ones and never let them go, or are the plastic ones simply more durable and thus able to be resold? ENQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.</p> <p>The kids' table and chairs-- I think I want to buy that new, regardless, because I'm sure they get pretty well-used. I had been thinking of waiting till around her birthday, but I don't think I want to wait that long.</p> <p>This is why I have thousands of devoted readers: scintillating conversation about used toys.</p><p>***<br /></p> <p>I toured a child care center week before last-- they offer a preschool program that's highly regarded, and I finally got off my tuchus and got Elle on the waiting list. (Some people put their kids on the waiting list at birth. Elle's chances of getting in are probably pretty lousy. Yet another "good mom" moment for me, coming shortly after I found out I'd missed the application dates for the two big two-year-old preschools in town. Great. JANUARY application for fall entry-- who knew? I do, now.)</p> <p>This center actually offers care from birth on, but the infant program is tiny and highly competitive. It's apparently generally full of siblings of kids already in the programs, and kids of faculty/staff at the college they're associated with.</p> <p>Fortunately, the class sizes get larger as the kids' ages progress, so there is a vague hope that Elle will get in-- probably not fall 2012, when she's 2, but more than likely fall 2013, when she's 3. I would be fine with her going there part time, and staying with her sitter a couple of days a week; I think it would provide a nice balance. Not to mention it would help with the cost portion of it.</p> <p>Because this place? Not cheap. And it's not cheap for a reason. It's awesome. The facility was custom-designed for the program, so there's terrific use of space, wonderful indoor/outdoor balance, great security, lots of kid-sized accommodations... Basically everything you'd ask for in a physical space.</p>The curriculum is thoughtful and appropriate, and includes religious ed (the affiliated college is a religious one), which I don't mind. The director was lovely. Everything about the facility, including the kids there, felt warm and welcoming and right.<p>They feed the kids, too, which is nice. The sample menu wasn't exactly how I feed Elle (we don't eat much beef, and never eat pork) but it looked pretty tasty. And the thought of not having to prep food every single day is appealing. ;)</p>I hope Elle can get in, even on a part-time basis. I'll find a way to pay for it.Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13170925393220989498noreply@blogger.com2