Elle in motion

I 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 packed, after all.  I'm just a speed bump in her race to world domination.

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.

Routine

I 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 first 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.

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.

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.

(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.)

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 DEATH WISH.)  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.

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.

I understand the need to continue living as you lived pre-baby, but that's not always possible.  Or wise.

And I think what it's important to remember is that it is not always going to be like this.  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 say 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.

The challenges associated with a small child are, fortunately, temporary.  I know they give way to new challenges, of course.

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.

My life

I was talking to a co-worker today, and we somehow got on the topic of parenting.  "I wish," she said, "that someone had just told me that I was going to be tired all the time."


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.

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 my life, like my terrible curly hair or my poor vision or my pink-painted toenails.

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.

Even if I am always tired.

Another

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I have my miracle.  I am so grateful.  But that doesn't stop me wishing.

Mother's Day (better late than never?)

It was a nice day.  My parents were in, so they watched Elle while I went to see The Avengers.  I am a nerd and proud of it, man.  It was awesome.

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).

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!"

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.

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.

They love me.  I love them.  But my house does not provide space for breathing room.

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.

All I really want for Mother's Day, anyway, is a happy, healthy daughter.  That, I have.  I am very blessed.

the universe

I 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Isn't it funny how the universe, somehow, provides?

Oh, 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).

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.

I think she's going to be a lefty.

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.

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.

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.

The whole world is opening up to her, and she wants it all, right now.

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.