My little bookworm

Elle's new favorite thing: she likes to "read" to you. Great long unintelligible strings of consonants and vowels, with inflection and pauses and emphasis, and even checking for understanding. She turns the pages, and the story she's telling you changes with each page.

This can go on for 20+ minutes. Per book, and she likes to read multiple books.

It is ridiculously, ridiculously adorable. I need to get it on video (although she spots the camera and whoosh, short attention span theatre!).

Clearly, she's a genius.

I just love the age/stage Elle's at right now. Verbal, inquisitive, friendly-- she's just a treat every single day. But I looked at a very recent picture of her and thought "Holy crap, she's a full-fledged toddler." There's no baby in there any more, at all.

Twice a year, there's a consignment sale that benefits a local charity. I sold some of Elle's things there last spring and am planning to sell stuff this fall, as well. You don't make a ton of money, but it's something, and it goes straight into Elle's tiny savings account.

They sell stuff on a seasonal basis, so last night I pulled out Elle's outgrown clothes from last winter so I could start tagging them. Oh, my goodness. Oh. Those little six-month sleepers; I doubt she could even get one of her legs into them now. How is it even possible? How does it go so quickly?

This morning she was standing up in her crib, smiling and talking to me a mile a minute, and I just had to go over and kiss the top of her head over and over, breathing her in.

Don't grow up too fast, baby girl. Give me just a few minutes to drink you in as you are today, before you go off changing into someone new.

Whoop de doo

Last week, a friend (not someone who reads this) posted on Facebo0k about how she made it to a store with her baby all by herself, and the baby was good the whole time. Apparently, going to the store alone with an infant is something to be celebrated.

(To be fair, she was also celebrating having found something on sale*, but the feel of the status update was definitely more "ooh, I did the store all by myself with the baby and no husband!")

Well, welcome to my life.

I love when friends want to go shopping with us, but 95% of the time, it's me plus an increasingly squirmy toddler strapped into the cart, moving as fast as we can. Elle likes shopping, sure, but the toddler attention span is (in)famous and not to be messed with. Our regular checker at the Tar.get knows to quickly scan whatever item she's entertaining herself with and GET IT BACK TO HER, in order to avoid Drama.

Being a single parent means many things, including getting things done with a little one in tow. You just... do it.

I guess when you don't have to "just do it," it's something to celebrate?

One of the best parts of being a parent is seeing the world through their eyes. Elle is absolutely delighted by so many things-- things that are completely ordinary to those of us who've been around a while.

Here are just a few of the things that make her incredibly happy:

- Me, coming into her room in the morning when it's time to get up. Somehow, I birthed a morning person.

- Putting on socks. (She's already trying to put them on herself. Clearly, she's brilliant.)

- Asking her "do you want to brush your teeth?" She loves this. I think it's because she uses the kid toothpaste and it tastes like bubble gum, but it still cracks me up when she breaks into a huge smile after you ask the question. I should really get it on video.

- Fabric. She finds something-- a cloth napkin, a t-shirt that missed the hamper, anything-- and whips it around. Puts it on her head. Wraps it around her neck. She just loves playing with it; the drawer with napkins and a table runner in it is way more fun than 85% of her toys. This makes folding and putting away laundry a very non-straightforward process, but I've discovered I don't really care. She has so much fun-- I can put the laundry in neat piles later.

Simple pleasures. But watching how much fun life in general is for my girl, it's not so simple after all.

Shake that booty

I'm about two years late to the party, but Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" is one heck of a fun song. I have no interest in her or her persona. I just like to dance around every now and then.

Elle will shake her booty, too, depending on the song. It's so cute. Once she's walking (still not, though she's standing and pulling herself up, so she's on the way) I hope it continues.

I have a terrible weakness for Bollywood movies and music, as well. In our house, the item song "Sheila Ki Jawani" is cause for lots of laughter and booty-shaking. I don't need to know what the singer is actually saying; I'm all about the beat. And Elle thinks it is HILARIOUS; the chorus, in particular. Probably because I ham it up.

When I have some spare time (ha! ha ha ha HA!) I need to sit down and put together a dancing playlist on my IPod. I will love it so much if we are a dancin' kind of family, and I'd like to encourage it however I can.

I'm thinking Abba, maybe some Michael Jackson. Bollywood. Lady Gaga. I'll have to look through what I have. Suggestions welcome!

It's funny. I really need a break. I need time to myself. I have always needed this; I recharge best alone.

But when I get a break, I spend most of the time thinking about getting back to Elle.

Everything changes, indeed.

(And I still need a break.)

Elle is not great at sharing. Yet. I believe this is typical for just-over-one-year-old toddlers.

Apparently this week at the sitter's, the sitter gave another little girl a cracker. Elle leaned over, smacked the little girl's hand, said "No," and took her cracker.

"Where did she learn that?" the sitter asked me.

Um.

Well, she learned that from me. Except for the stealing the cracker part.

Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. (Gratuitous Princess Bride references always welcome in my house.)

Elle has a tendency to hit at my face-- not hard, but more flail-y kind of hitting. 99% of the time I take her hand, enfold it in mine, and say sternly "No. We do not hit Mama. We are nice." And then I take her hand and demonstrate "nice" face touching. Which she thinks is hilarious. I have no idea if she's actually learning anything from this, but it's how I respond almost every time.

A couple of times, though, I have tapped my fingers firmly on the back of her hand, said the same thing, and shook my head. It is not by any stretch of the imagination hitting her, but it is physical contact.

But she has clearly retained what happened and is duplicating it in her own social interactions. Something that has happened to her only a very few times-- and she's doing it herself. There are probably a zillion other things that have happened to her, and she's not duplicating them; this clearly made an impression on her.

I do not plan on using any kind of corporal punishment. (I am pretty sure, however, that I'll slip up and there will be the occasional swat on the butt.) No face slapping, no spanking, etc. It's not what I want to teach Elle. I was spanked and turned out fine, but those memories are not ones I want to duplicate with my daughter. I think every family needs to make their own choices, but I just don't think corporal punishment is necessary for mine.

It would be a stretch to say that Elle's memory of a back-of-the-hand tap is damaging or unpleasant for her, but again, it clearly made an impression. These little things that we don't even think about are soaking into children's brains and coming out in what they say, do, and think.

We are their role models, for better or for worse. Getting that lesson this early is sobering and (to be honest) scary.

She learned that from me. May the next time I see that happen, it be something better and more positive.

Visitors

My parents visited this past weekend. They adore Elle. She adores them. She will have precious little (blood) family as she grows up, so I want her to spend as much time as possible with her grandparents for as long as she can. My parents are not young, so all these moments are precious.

They don’t live in the area, unfortunately. I never thought I would want my parents nearby, but now I do-- for Elle, not for me. While they are still healthy, I’d love for them to be able to spend time with her. They talk about moving but just haven’t done what they need to do; some of that is because of the economy, and some of that is that I think they are in a bit of denial about the fact that, if they want to really know Elle, they will need to live in a major metro area that they (well, my dad, at least) doesn’t much care for. I'm not leaving anytime soon. This is where my support network is, and barring some kind of relocation relative to work, this is where I’ll be for a while.

(Someday, I’ll be in Colorado. But that’s a long way away, and my parents will be gone by then.)

What is funny is that when I talk to one of them about it, they each blame the other. And they believe it. Heh.

So they come, and they adore Elle (in their own ways, anyway; my confusion with how my mother interacts with her is a topic for another post). And I end up doing all the heavy lifting to enable them to spend time with her.

I guess that’s my role, maybe? I guess I don’t feel like they’re guests, exactly; they’re family, and I’m used to pitching in when I’m a guest in their home. That same thing doesn’t happen here, although my mother will usually cook at least one meal, which is nice.

I do wish I'd had a child when I was younger. I wasn't ready, though. And if I'd done this five years ago, I wouldn't have Elle; there's a reason for everything. Another advantage of younger parenthood is that my own parents would have been younger, around for more of Elle's life, and probably able to do more with her.

Regrets are natural, but a waste of time in the long run. You can't go back. I don't want to, anyway.