Giving thanks ( a little early)

While Elle's napping on this grey, chilly afternoon, I thought I'd pop in and update. Apologies for the lack of regular updates-- it's been an incredibly busy few weeks, with colds, coughs, and developmental changes. Blogging isn't just taking a back seat; it's dragging behind the car hanging onto a rope for dear life.

We have walking (unsteadily), we have even more talking, we have desperately wanting to see what Mama is doing in the kitchen AT ALL TIMES. We have the increased clinginess/neediness/whining that comes with major developmental changes. We also have the amazing leaps in growth and comprehension that make the clinginess/neediness/whining easier to bear-- her receptive language comprehension grows exponentially every day, and her spoken vocabulary continues to develop. Maybe I should say it continues to become more comprehensible? I feel like she's been saying many of these things/phrases forever, but just hasn't been articulating them to the level where I can understand them. Mama is slow sometimes.

Elle is a joy, every day, even when I'm tired and sneezy and wish I could crawl into bed without obligations, like I did before I became a parent.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my amazing daughter. I am thankful my tiny family is healthy, barring colds and sneezy. I am thankful for our friends, who continue to be in my life despite how my life has changed. I'm thankful for my good job and my excellent health insurance. I am thankful for the roof over our heads, the food on our table (even when it gets flung to the floor), and the clothes on our backs. We have been given so many blessings; I don't want to take a single one for granted.

If you celebrate it this week, happy Thanksgiving. If you don't, have a great week.

Danger! Danger!

I'm told that the toddler aversion to trying new foods is actually a protective measure that's built in-- it stops them from eating potentially dangerous/toxic foods. I guess if you're living in a cave, it's good to have instincts that stop you from eating whatever random things you find growing on a bush, hm?

Given that Elle is not exactly finding random food in random places, the look of deep suspicion she gives to new foods I put on her high chair tray makes me laugh. One would think that avocado is made of green toxic alien brains, for instance. She almost took a bite of it tonight, then thought better of it, flung it back on her tray, and rubbed the remaining bits of it all over her face. (This must be how people discovered avocado facial masks! Ha!)

I keep putting new food on there, periodically, with the idea that it will eventually work. It did at lunch today, shockingly-- she willingly ate several slices of mandarin oranges, which has expanded her group of "fruit she'll eat without it being hidden in applesauce" exponentially. I've been putting it in front of her off and on for weeks now; she's eaten a piece or two, here and there. Today was the first time she ate it with purpose and enjoyment.

I'm glad-- she needs all the vitamin C she can get, as do I.

**

We had our first playdate yesterday at our house-- it was complete and total chaos but fun, and smart to have it the night before we fell back for daylight savings time. Elle was so pooped that she woke up at pretty much her normal time on the clock this morning, though of course it was an hour later than her usual waking. Naps were borked today and she was asleep within minutes of me putting her down-- and I put her down early, which I will probably regret. But baby girl was tired.

**

In other news, with Halloween over, candy corn will not be easily available in the stores. THANK GOD. I, and my butt, are grateful.

So close

I've been reading the Tumblr for the 99%-- I can't possibly keep up with every posting, but I scan them periodically. What strikes me most is that these are (generally) not people living stupid lives; they're people who've done what middle-class people have been doing in this country for generations, and now have no way out, no help, no health insurance. The middle class of our parents' generation is fast becoming a memory.

There are some that hurt more than others to see. There are a good number of veterans on there, barely surviving. There are parents not knowing how they will pay for clothing for their babies. There are parents who eat one meal a day so their kids can eat three. There are people who can't afford medications and/or treatment for conditions that are easily helped with one or both of those things.

It's common for Americans to scoff at people like this. It's their fault. They made bad choices.

I don't think it's that simple any more.

I'm by no means the 1%, but I feel like I was one of the last generations that got to grow up with health insurance (thanks to my father's job), go to college, and have my loans paid off within a (somewhat) reasonable time period of finishing school. I even had much of my grad school paid for by companies I worked for, which is also going the way of the dodo. I bought a home that, while it's not worth nearly what it was, at least isn't underwater; if I had to sell, I'd come out OK.

I am very lucky. I wish other people were so lucky.

I am also acutely conscious of how little it would take to put me in the category of the unemployed, the uninsured, the foreclosed, the repossessed, the terrified over how to make ends meet.

Anyone who thinks they're safe, that somehow it couldn't happen to them-- well, it could. It can.

Unless you're part of the 1%, it could always happen to you. At any time. And as a single parent, this is even scarier than it is for those who have another income (or at least the potential for another income) to rely on.

I look at Elle's curls, at her rosy cheeks, and know I'd do anything for her. So would any parent for their child-- well, almost any parent, I guess. I try to imagine how it would feel not to be able to meet her basic needs. It is an absolutely terrifying thought.

** **

I lost a co-worker (and friend) this week. It was a terrible accident. We'd just talked the evening before it happened, laughing over some silly situation in her office. The next morning, I sent off several e-mails to her, not knowing that she was already gone.

If we're talking about absolutely terrifying thoughts, let me add this to the list: not living long enough to take care of Elle. Not living long enough for her to remember me.

Rest in peace, my friend. Rest in peace. Your daughter is in my prayers.

Toddlerhood

Rhetorical question of the day:

How is it possible to love someone so much, yet want nothing more than a few hours away from them?

(I know it's possible; I've felt that with some of my relationships in the past. "I love you! I want to smooch you! Then leave me alone!" This is one of the many, many reasons I'm single.)

I have a friend coming over Saturday to hang with Elle, and I've got two hours to myself. I'm not going to do anything particularly thrilling, but it will be nice to have some much-needed time away.

I need to get on finding a weekend sitter. No luck so far. It will be easier when Elle is slightly older-- I'll be fine with a high school kid-- but when she's this small and (relatively) non-verbal, I want a sitter with a bit more maturity.

---

With the exception of actually walking (she's sooo close), Elle is now a full-fledged actual toddler, moods and all. This is apparently the time where they're figuring out that they're a separate person from mom, and realizing they can exert their own will over things/situations. Elle being Elle, she figured that out a while ago-- long before she'll figure out how to walk. My girl has a very strong personality, and very definite ideas of her own.

I've had to stop making eating any kind of a battle, for instance. If dinner is a saltine and three bites of cheese, that's dinner-- and she doesn't seem to be waking up in the middle of the night hungry, so clearly she's getting what she needs.

Sunday night dinner was about eight blueberries, five or six yogurt puffs and around 14-16 ounces of milk. (No, I'm not exaggerating. Literally, close to three sippy cups full, and they're six ounces each.) I think she had some American cheese, as well. Apparently she's craving calcium? She didn't want water, she didn't want food. She wanted milk.

So, anyway. I send a wide variety of nutritious foods with her to day care, she eats well there, and I can't kill myself over it beyond that. She will rarely try new foods right now, and I remind myself that's normal. Toddlers will eat when they're hungry, and it's been proven that they get the nutritional variety they need. Eventually.

When she will deign to acknowledge some new food that's been placed on her tray, her new method for testing it out is to squish it with the tip of her finger. She did this to a lima bean this past weekend and laughed delightedly when the outside of the lima bean came off, like a snakeskin. She eventually tried the lima bean and ate maybe one more; I'll keep trying.

One suggestion on a mom website was a bit of garlic salt-- they like the salty flavor and it gets them to try something new. Unfortunately, another toddler suggestion is to let them dip their food-- i.e. dip their bread into hummus, or their fruit into yogurt. This gets them nutrition, as well as gives them control over how they're eating. Sadly, Elle doesn't like combining foods. She doesn't even much like butter on her bread. She's a purist at the moment.

She did dip a saltine into applesauce tonight. Hm. Baby steps? Weird baby steps, anyway.

---

Elle has never been the most snuggly or affectionate baby. She's always been so busy doing other things and/or keeping an eye on the world; cuddling is time away from what matters. This means that when she is loving, I treasure it all the more.

This weekend I was sitting on the floor, slouched over (bad habit), and she scooted up behind me and hugged my back, resting her cheek on me for just a moment. She did it again a few minutes later.

Those are the moments that make it all worth it.

15 months

Dear Elle:

You are 15 months old. That doesn't seem right. I saw a baby today at work who was about six or seven months old, and that seems like the right number. 15 months feels too far along.

You are right on the brink of so many things: your one-year molars (two down, two to go), walking, complete sentences. There is not a moment where you aren't looking around for something to get into. You are a nonstop blur of activity; in fact, I'm having trouble getting clear pictures of you these days, even on the good camera. You have Things To Do.

These Things To Do are often hard on you. Molars are painful, and you don't understand why your mouth hurts. You are so good, really, even though you hurt. Walking is still something of a mystery to you, though you're figuring it out more each day. Language-- well, I'm not worried about that. Your vocabulary and receptive language are both exceptional. I don't understand all of your babbling, of course, and feel bad about that-- you sometimes look at me as if you're thinking "Lady, could I be more clear? Why don't you know what I'm saying?"

Sometimes, I feel like I'm just in your way. You have never been the snuggliest of babies and that has continued into toddlerhood. You are so alert and interested and independent; taking time to nestle into my shoulder probably seems like energy that would best be spent planning on how to destroy the dining room. So the rare moments when you wrap your hand around mine, or lean against me, or rest your head on my shoulder, are moments I treasure. It's also one of the ways I can tell when you're truly tired-- if you rest your head on my shoulder, I know you're really ready for bed.

We've started saying prayers at bedtime, as part of the routine. Nothing fancy-- we sit in the rocker and ask God to bless the people we love, ask for good dreams and a good night. Sometimes we'll say a more formal prayer, but it's usually just a few words before our last lullabye. You seem oddly attentive during this time; I think you recognize some of the names I list off, and maybe this short addition to the bedtime routine is already familiar and comforting.

I don't want to underestimate the power and importance of routine to you. Routine, especially for children, gives you something to hang on to. It's a structure that's part of your world. That lullabye (which has been the same since you were born), no matter where we are when I sing it to you, is always the same lullabye. All these tiny things, woven into your life in different ways, are things I can do to reassure you how much you are loved, and that you are safe.

You may only have one parent, but I will always try hard to be the best parent I can be. Sometimes that will mean getting out of your way. Sometimes that will mean holding your hand in mine as you toddle awkwardly across the floor. Sometimes it will mean holding you as you scream for no reason at all. Always, it will mean loving you.

Love,
Your mom

If it's October, shouldn't I be able to pack away my shorts?

We are having strangely summer-like weather here in the middle of the country. I can't even call it a proper Indian summer-- it's summer, plain and simple.

I know it's probably related to global warming and doom, but it's kind of nice.

Elle's sound asleep right now; on the video monitor I can see her sprawled on her back, her little polkadot skirt all up around her waist, her hair tousled, her cheeks rosy. (It's a black and white monitor, but I know they're rosy.) Seriously, she's adorable. And I'm not at all biased.

When she gets up we are going out. OUT. Well, there will probably be a snack first (she's not eating much this weekend, again) but then we are going out to drink in every bit of this beautiful day. There will probably be a visit to the park in there somewhere, as well. You can't waste a day like today, after all.

No big updates, really. At the end of it, life-- whether you're single, married, a parent, or childless-- isn't always about the big updates. It's the little day-to-day things, good and bad, that make up the fabric of your life. Right now, they're mostly good things, and I count my blessings every single day.

City living

An unexpected day off today (my sitter was sick) ended up being a (mostly) lovely day. We're having sunny beautiful weather here in the middle; if you['re going to have an unplanned day off, might as well be able to get out.

Someone didn't want a morning nap, so we headed out to the library story hour, which is followed by open play. It's geared towards babies up to 15 months, so it's a nice time, and there were clearly a lot of moms who knew each other. There were a few I recognized, too, which made me feel good.

(One is a woman I go to church with; her girls were baptized the same day as Elle. She never seems to recognize me, though we've met more than twice, and doesn't make eye contact. Since she seemed not to make eye contact with anyone there, I'll say it's because she's shy, not because she hates me. But she probably hates me. Heh.)

Finally got Elle settled in for an afternoon nap, and was able to sit in on a conference call for work. As the call was winding down, about an hour later, I started hearing noise out behind my place. Sawing, of some kind. A quick glance at the video monitor told me that Elle wasn't moving; thank goodness. She needed that nap. She's a good solid sleeper; some sawing isn't going to bug her.

Within a few minutes, any hope of the nap going longer than an hour was gone. Because they started using jackhammers. Literally right under Elle's window.

She woke up crying and disoriented, and I gave up hope on both the nap and on getting any more work done and got us the hell out of there. The noise was so loud that there just wasn't anywhere to go in my house to get away from it, so we escaped entirely.

Again, thank goodness for the beautiful day-- long walk, a bit of window shopping, playing in the park (oh, we love the swings, yes we do). Really lovely end-of-summer day, and Elle was remarkably sunny all the way to bedtime, given her sleep deficit. She was out within about two minutes of hitting her crib. My poor girl.

She'll probably sleep most of the day at her sitter's tomorrow!

This is such a great age for her. I want to freeze her here, but I don't. I just have to enjoy every minute as much as I can. One of the hardest things about parenting is being truly present when you're worried about other things (bills, taxes, what's for dinner).

That stuff doesn't matter, really. What matters is your little girl holding a book up to you with an expectant look on her face, and dropping whatever you're doing to read it to her. That's what's important.