The Three Year Old Says

I've been collecting some pretty funny, and surprising, sayings from my darling girl. Every time I think she should watch her mouth, I think that I should watch my own mouth. And so it continues...

One morning, I woke up to the sound of A in her room, rummaging around, saying:
"I can't find my binky! I'm freaking out!"

Every time I try to comb her hair, especially when it's wet, she will cry:
"You're making me crazy!"

This one is a little disturbing, but I think maybe it was caused by pine needles from the Christmas tree?
"There's a needle in my pants!" 
After an exhaustive search, no offending needle was found.

Every time I leave the house, I hear A in her sweet voice, pleading:
"Can I go with you?"

This one makes me smile a little, but it doesn't amuse her Daddy very much, especially when it's applicable:
"Daddy's a grouch!"

And then there's this. I am not taking the blame for this one, because I very rarely say this version of the f word. She, however, applies it to many things. Daddy gets the dagger eyes from me on this one, because I think he started it and it makes us all sound like very disrespectful people.
"I don't want no fricken juice!"
"Turn off the fricken light!"

She knows it's not cool. We were out in the yard the other day and a neighbor was using a power tool.
"Mama, what's that fricken noise?"
Me, trying to keep a straight, stern face: "What is the word you are not supposed to say?"
A, head down: "Fricken. I'm not supposed to say fricken......but what is that fricken noise?"

We're working on that one, and trying to explain why it's ok to say "freaking" but not "fricken". I always thought I had a good grasp on the English language, but the subtleties are killing me here.

Photo Show - Toys and Play Time

The birthday/Christmas season has been good to the girl. Lots of new toys and experiences were introduced around here, and three bags of old toys were donated to make room for the new.

Here are portraits of some of our favorite, and most photogenic, toys:

Hello Kitty and her people, all lined up (arranged by A, me playing with depth of field)

 

A smaller group (arranged and shot by A, with a little help)

 

Whoooooo?

This guy talks, walks, and rises up on two legs!

 

This takes up her entire room. We can't wait until summer, where it will make a perfect deck tent.

And, the dreaded bath paints. J does not like these, but we have fun anyway. They're soap!

This one's mine, but isn't it amazing? I can't wait to put it out in the yard in better weather!

 

It's Lunch!

Ever since A started preschool, I've kicked lunch up a notch. I'm not sure why I feel so serious about it, but I do. I searched for a while for just the right lunch box. I make it a point to make her lunch myself so that everything can be healthy, colorful and nicely arranged. One night J started cutting stuff up for her lunch, and I heard myself tell him, "But, J, that's not right. You need to do it bento style." For real, I said this. I'm not sure if A even notices, but it matters to me.

Organic juice box, carrots, mandarin oranges, peanut butter & jelly mini-sandwich,

granola bar, pirates booty (veggie flavor)

Of course I love my baby, but I also really like being this girl's mom. It means a lot to me to do it right, and even to do it with some sort of style. Maybe it's a little overkill in preschool, but it's never too early to have a fun lunch, in my opinion.

I remember making my own lunch when I was a kid. I remember very vividly the last sandwich I made myself in first grade. It was peanut butter and banana. By the time I got to eat it the banana had gotten nasty. From then on, I'm pretty sure I just bought lunch. It's not that my mom didn't want to do it right, or do it with some sort of style, but she worked full time and she had three kids going on, so she just plain didn't have time.

I always intend to make time to make lunch count. It's part of expressing my joy in being a mom. These little things count, even if it only counts to me.

Mixed Media

The girl has declared herself an artist. I'm so ok with this it isn't even funny. I don't care how messy it gets or even how much money I am sure to spend on various supplies. I'm even secretly hoping she runs with it. Ssshhhhhhh!

In addition to the amazing scissors and glue sticks she recently acquired, she got a frame decorating kit for her birthday. She proceeded to use every single sticker, jewel, color of paint and glitter pen on every millimeter of space on the frame. Hey, it's her vision!

 

The work in progress:

 

 

 

When she was finished with that, she took the paint and branched out to the paper on the easel:

 

 

 

Not wanting to be confined by medium, she proceeded to paint over all the Christmas stickers and faces that she had already drawn:

 

 

 

Still not satisfied (I like the spirit!), she added some crayon the next day:

 

 

 

Perhaps the final touches will be this layer of glued on paper for contrast, and some fringe cut on the edges:

 

 

 

She seems to constantly be in the cycle of creation and destruction. It's a fascinating (and kind of maddening) process to observe. I love how deeply concentrated she looks when she's really into it:

 

 

 

I hope she never loses her experimental spirit, and is never afraid to express herself.

 

 

 

 

Mars

As you can see, the Mars landscape (aka potty chart) is coming along nicely. Lots of mid-size stickers for pee and a couple of big ones for when she tried to go #2 in the potty.

Here is a typical scenario and conversation about pooping:

A goes in the other room, out of my sight, and gets very quiet. The only time she's not talking, singing or otherwise chattering, is when she's asleep and when she's pooping where she shouldn't be. I can usually find her behind the couch or the curtain. Head down, eyes up, looking guilty.

Me: A, are you pooping?

A (quiet, strained voice): No.

And when I go in there, I'm greeted with: Get out of here! Go away!

I'm not sure what I can do with that, other than stay calm and keep encouraging her to go in the potty. This child does not take the easy way, ever. She will get it eventually, I can only assume.

Mars is getting crowded. I'm about to switch out that background for a nature scene for all the beautiful glitter butterfly stickers I just got. I'm hoping to populate it with many LARGE butterflies.

Best of Times, Worst of Times

If you wake me up in the middle of the night, watch out. I am not friendly. The longer you keep me up, the less friendly I get, until I am just downright mad. It's not a good scene. I try to keep it under control, and just remove myself before raising my voice, but sometimes I can't restrain a frustrated growl. Surely you can relate, right?

Just after midnight I was rudely awoken by the little one climbing out of her bed, slamming her door and creeping to the kitchen to play with her new scissors. J intercepted her and then she came to snuggle with me. But she didn't sleep. I was drowsy enough to put up with this for a while, but after a couple of hours, and maybe a little growling, I just got up and went to lay on the couch.

After an hour or so, I sensed a disturbance in the force. I opened my eyes to see a little head, bobbing just over the top of the couch, making her way to the kitchen. It's a little eerie when she does this because her padded feet are practically silent on the wood floor and she looks like a floating shadow ghost baby. I've opened my eyes more than once from sleeping and jumped out of my skin, with her standing right at my face, looking at me. But this time I was onto her.

She snuck into the kitchen.

"A! Go to bed!" I say to her.

"No." she replies in a tiny but completely firm voice. She ain't doing it.

I get off the couch and drag myself into the kitchen. She is standing there at 3am, in the dark, her big eyes puffy, her hair a tangled mess, her cute little round toddler belly sticking out in her footie pj's, and she's holding her scissors. She has a total cow when I take them from her hands and put her back in bed.

"Mama took my scissors!!!" she wails.

Putting my sleep deprived monster mind aside for a moment, I had to smile, just a little, to myself. How cool is life when you are so excited about your new scissors that you feel compelled to get up in the middle of the night to cut paper? That's a trouble-free existence right there. I want her to have as much of a trouble-free life as she can when she's little, without making too much trouble for my life as a result. Is that so wrong?

We'll figure it out. I hope.

Also, the potty training, not going so well. She seems to be unlearning all the good habits she just learned, just to keep us on our toes. At least she's predictably unpredictable. Sigh.

Like A Boss

I'm feeling like a genius today. I know this is nothing new in the scheme of all things, but in the scheme of our things at home, I see some great things happening.

We've been having some setbacks with the ol' potty training, especially when it comes to the poop. She's holding it at school (still no accidents there!), and then when she's home the next day she explodes, in a bad way.

She gets stickers at school for going potty, and has been asking for stickers at home. She loves the stickers, so I've been trying to figure out what kind of potty chart to put up at home as an incentive. This morning, it all came together, and thus, I am a genius!

I already had some super cool robot alien stickers to donate to the cause.

 

 

 

I drew a Martian landscape (use your imagination and it looks just like Mars!).

 

 

When she pees in the potty, she gets a small sticker and when she poops, she's granted a big sticker. Hopefully within the week an amazing sticker story will appear on the paper. And hopefully those big stickers are cool enough to do the trick.

 

I'm so optimistic about this project, that I'm already planning my next background...



Something Delicious

If you are so inclined, might I recommend a delicious alcoholic beverage that I have recently discovered? I don't know what it is officially called, but it is deee-lish!

The Recipe:
One bottle of Angry Orchard hard apple cider
One shot of caramel flavored vodka

Alternate Recipe, in the case that you can't find caramel vodka:
One bottle of Angry Orchard hard apple cider (maybe another kind would work too, I don't know)
One shot of regular old vodka (I used Grey Goose)
One splash of Torani caramel syrup (I could only find sugar free, and it was yummy!)

Now, I will say that while I don't mind frilly chick drinks, I always roll my eyes at flavored vodka. I mean, really. What is the deal with marshmallow flavored alcohol, or cotton candy? Yuck! I've never been a fan of any kind of sugary drinks (although I like sugary food maybe more than I ought to), so sugary vodka sounds like a big ol' head bomb to me.

This concoction, though, puts the caramel flavor to good use, and it balances nicely with the bitter cider. It's not hard on those of us prone to alcoholic headaches, either, and that's a bonus! It's a nice treat for when you are in the mood for a relaxing, yet not taxing, adult beverage.

The Potty Train

All aboard!

I *think* we are getting potty trained! We have had several days in a row wearing underwear during the day with no accidents, even at school, and even pooping in the potty. I don't want to jinx it by declaring it a done deal, because this kid keeps us on our toes in all other areas, and I expect her to hold out on us with this too. But, so far, so good.

It helps that she can't wear pull-ups to school. She went through 3-4 school days with 1 or 2 accidents a day, and then a couple of days with no accidents at all! Once she went to school, we just went all underwear during the day at home too. It's been messy, but less and less messy every day.

She seems to have an enthusiasm for it lately, which is good. It just gets a little pesky when we're out in public and she wants to use the potty several times just for sport. She just trickles out a little pee and then she wants to do the whole routine of getting toilet paper, flushing, washing hands, and in the process she touches every surface available. It's gross, just thinking about all those nasty germs!

Then, ten minutes later she wants to go again, because she can! Who am I to rain on this parade? It's all part of the process, and soon she'll discover that going to the bathroom is quite dull and only done when really necessary. Until then, lots of hand sanitizer.

The pull-ups at night seem kind of silly now, because she often wakes up dry. She waits until morning to pee in the potty. I'm keeping the pull-ups for the time being, because sometimes she sleeps in my bed, and I don't even want to think about an accident there. It has happened, but only once, and once is quite enough of that business.

It's a pretty cool milestone unfolding around here. All parties are excited!

Now, to get rid of that binky...

Halloween Report

Halloween was a huge production this year. It had ups and downs. I'm thrilled to be able to experience this through the eyes of a 3-year-old, but, oh, man, the life of a 3-year-old can be dramatic, exhausting and a little spazzy.

Highlights:
- Hunting for and carving pumpkins!

- Super fun preschool party with all her new classmates and her new best friend, Miss Heather

- The spooky soundtrack that Daddy played. She loved it so much she woke up the next day asking repeatedly for the "ghost songs". They creep me out, but this little lady can't get enough.

- A and J decorated the house and yard with vampires, bats, ghosts and lights

- Making cookies together for Daddy!

Lowlights:
- Under no circumstance would she don the adorable bear costume we got for her. Not when she's at a party with all of her other dressed-up classmates, not with the promise of trick-or-treating (and candy!), not with me dressed up in my bear costume, and certainly not when J tried to beg, plead, bargain, cajole and otherwise influence her. She wasn't having it. "No, I'm good.", she would say. Uh, ok...

- Thus, no going around the neighborhood "scaring" the neighbors in our bear costumes, as planned. More of a bummer for me than for her, clearly.

- Way. Too. Many. Sweets.

- Squirrels munched on our pumpkins! What the hell?

All-in-all a fun and interesting experience. I'm up for many more years of Halloween with my favorite original, headstrong and hilarious girl.

It's November. Finally!

Last month was a doozy, particularly the last week of it.

I made it through two hosting two toddler parties with house guests, school photos for the first time, doctor visit + flu mist, ridiculous lack of sense and miscommunication on multiple huge budget projects, Halloween - parties and battles, and first day of preschool. Where to begin?

Two parties is a shit ton of money and work, I'm not gonna lie, but after it was all done, it was the right call. The parties were smaller each, and more pleasant. The girl enjoyed herself at each one and was able to really spend time with people. The elders require a more formal host situation, and my friends require more social time, so this way I could do both.

I don't know if I'd do it again because I was double dog tired afterward, like, exhausted to the max. When I was cleaning up after the second one, and J was kicking back watching football and he sauntered into the kitchen announcing that he was hungry, he nearly lost his life. It's not good to be pushed that far, by any means, but the overall experience was more enjoyable for A, and that's the reason for the season. In the end, I'm happy if she's happy.

School photos went awesome. We had the expected clothes battle, but finally agreed on something adorable (a new sweater from her Aunt Amy). She smiled at the right times and looked like a little angel.

She loves going to the doctor for some reason, and she didn't even flinch or frown when they poked her finger to test for iron. She even thanked the nurse afterward.

On her first day of preschool, she didn't seem nervous at all. Not like me who was trying to remember a million details and forgetting half of them. We had been talking about it all week, and once we got into the school, she just marched right into her class and didn't look back. The report was that she had a great time, fit right in, marched down the hall as the line leader, took a two hour nap (WHAT THE HELL???) and made lots of friends. She was happy to see us, but she didn't want to leave either until we promised she could come back.

An overall positive week, but I'll be happy to have no significant milestones next week. Unless she decides to potty train. I'd be up for that one!

Famous Bath Time Sayings

Here are some super fun things I've heard in the bath lately:

Can you brush duck's teeth, and octopus's teeth too?

(Putting some soap on the washcloth) I'm going to wash the cloth's hair!

(Jumping up and down on the mat after getting out of the tub)  I'm a cuddlebug! I'm a pickle!


And, my favorite dialog, maybe of all time:

A: What can I do in the tub? Can I poop in the tub?

Me: NO!

A: Can I hop in the tub?

Me: Uh, no. Absolutely not.

A: (hanging head in mock sadness) Oh. (brightens up) Can I meow in the tub?

Me: Yes! You can meow all you want to!

No meowing. End of conversation. Just fact finding I guess.

Bath time is a real party around here!

Just Let Me Get Through The Next 9 Days

There is so much going on right now that it's hard to even collect my thoughts. Most of the big events revolve around A. We're preparing for her first launch into the world, and we are all three amped up and anxious about it.

She said goodbye to her beloved babysitter this week, as she'll be starting preschool at the end of next week. I don't think she knows that she won't be going over there regularly, like she's done for 2 1/2 of her 3 years in this world. She doesn't know what it's like to miss people, or experiences. She has no idea what she's in for, but she knows something is different.

I wish that situation could just go on forever, because it was perfect. I knew she was being cared for by someone who loved her, and she had the great fortune of getting socialized with two other great kids who just happened to be her second cousins too. But schedules change, situations change and evolution is necessary, so we're moving on to something new.

I think she's ready for preschool. I think she's going to do wonderfully in a structured environment, learning all kinds of new and exciting things, with lots of other kids to learn to get along with. But, honestly, we are anxious for many reasons.

She's been having some crazy outbursts lately. Lots of bull-headed resistance to regular, every day things, like, putting on pants, going outside, or staying in her damn bed at night. Not to mention, her sleep pattern is just messed up. Still waking up in the middle of the night, still staying up as long as she can. She's killing us, but she's also not getting enough rest, hence the out-of-control behavior. Luckily, this usually happens in the afternoon, so hopefully she'll be home by the time the cork pops off so her preschool teacher doesn't know that we are failures at getting our child to sleep.

Preschool is a place where time is limited, so what's going to happen when she decides she doesn't want to so something different at that particular moment? Will she freak out, or will she adapt? We shall see. I'm pulling for her. Is she going to read out loud at the top of her lungs during quiet time, or is she actually going to give her teacher a break? Yikes. Hopefully they won't throw my little monkey out of the zoo for insubordination. I don't know any other zookeepers that can make the time commitment we need.

Another milestone coming up is her third birthday. This year, two separate parties. One for family, that should be small and civilized, and one for friends that's going to be a wild rager. I don't know why I can't control myself with the old guest list. I feel like I need to go big, and it makes my life way, way more difficult. What was I thinking? (How can she be three already???)

And then there's school picture day (Will she let me comb her hair? Will she look at the camera? Will she insist on dressing like a crazy person?), her three year wellness check up at the doctor (No shots this round), and Halloween (they're taking bets in Vegas as to whether she will wear the bear costume that she asked for and that I spent a good deal of money on).

Things are hectic and stressful at work, and I'm not sure how I'm going to pull all this off. I will, for sure, and it's all going to be exciting and fun. But I'm gonna need a serious nap on November 2, and I'd better get it.

Photo Show - Pumpkins & Animals

It's Fall! Best season of the whole year. Sweaters, boots, changing leaves, holidays, birthdays and pumpkins. Here are some photos from a pumpkin patch and animal farm we enjoyed today:

Behold the Rooster!

Mr. Peacock

Two Day Old Piglets

Gimme Some Food!

The Search 

I don't know. Maybe crows were scared.

Pumpkin pile 

More pumpkin pile

 



Thanks to Jessica for the great idea. We really enjoyed Fairbank Animal Farm and Pumpkin Patch!

Everything You Say

The sleep is looking better. We've had a few nights in the last week of sleeping through the night. Yay!

The behavior is looking better. More sleep = more happy all around.

We are now deep in the phase called Monkey See, Monkey Do, with a subtitle of Monkey Hear, Monkey Say.

For the most part, it's nothing but super cute. Seeing her do really sweet and affectionate things based on how she is treated is very encouraging. She holds her toddler mirror up to us and we see that we are actually doing some things right! We are making progress toward the main goal of raising a good human. Yay!

We also see behavior that I hope continues forever. She is the best helper around the house. We can't unload the dishwasher, do the dishes, sweep the floor or unload the groceries without her coming running from the other end of the house to help. And, she's actually pretty helpful! Keep it up, little lady. Mama likes a good helper, and Daddy's not always into it.

She is hanging on every word, even when we think she's not listening. We talk a lot around here, to each other, and to her, and she seems to have a great ability for language. She talks - all the time. She talks in full, multiple word sentences. She talks in past, present and future tense, in first, second and third person. She sounds out the letters of the alphabet. She can spell her name. Every day she says new words that we have no idea where they came from. Strangers can even mostly understand what she's saying. It's amazing, and impressive.

She has also repeated some words, in the correct context and with maximum impact, that she'd better never say in preschool or in front of anyone else. Words that bring deep shame into the hearts of her parents, who know it's wrong, but let them fly in front of her anyway. Words that will get her, and definitely her parents, the wrong kind of reputation. Words that leave us speechless, and that leave her extremely satisfied because she knows she just got away with it. She's a smart cookie, and the child of a couple of soon-to-be-reformed trucker mouths.

The first time the words come out in her sweet little voice, it's all we can do not to laugh because it's so adorable. But we can't encourage this, right? We are such hypocrites already. I've started to really watch it, and J has too. It makes language a little less fun around the house (cussing is fun!), but it's worth the sacrifice to raise a polite little person. We want her to start out that way, anyway.

Time Out

A piece of hot dog hits the floor. Even though I'm on my computer across the table, I see it fall. I can see her with my special peripheral mom vision, looking at me with her big eyeballs, daring me to stop her.

Without looking up, I say, "A - DO NOT throw your food on the floor. If you're done, just get down."

She drops the rest of the hot dog pieces onto the floor and sweeps her arm across the table so that the plate and the rest of the food nearly follows. With my swift super mom speed, I catch her arm, just in time, before the plate crashes on the ground.

"Are you done with your food?"

She grabs a piece of cheese, goes to put it in her mouth, but then throws it down on the table. I get her out of her chair.

"I want you to pick up that hot dog."

She scurries away to the corner of the kitchen.

"Ok, pick it up or you get a time out. Do you want a time out?"

This can go either way. Some days, she says, NOOOOOOO. No time out. And she just picks it up. But not today. Today, she's in the mood to play games.

"Yes," she says with a big teasing smile, "I want a time out. Will you take me into my room?"

"Ok, go into your room. I will not carry you. You can stay in there until you want to pick up your hot dog. Do not come out until then."

She happily trots off to her room and shuts the door. It takes her 30 minutes, but eventually she trots back out and happily picks up all the hot dog and throws it in the trash. She's a stubborn little goat, but I am a big stubborn goat, and I've been at it longer. I don't want to step on hot dog bits, but I'm also not the little goat's servant.

Oh, the fortitude this parenting takes!

Watch Yo Mind

I know I've talked a bit about this before, but I was a practicing Buddhist for over a decade and I miss it. I miss the shiny Buddhas, I miss all my friends, I miss teaching and listening to teachings, and I miss the quiet and peace of mind! Oh boy do I miss that.

Today, they had a celebration at the temple for 20 years of this lineage being in Seattle. It was a big deal. I never go to the temple anymore, but despite my migraine I knew I couldn't miss it. I wanted to take A, of course, because those friends were such a big part of my life in my journey up until she came along, and they are all curious about why I disappeared to be a Mom.

So, as they do, they started with some prayers and then a series of speakers, people who were instrumental in developing the center talking all about the history. I don't know why, but I thought it would be fine to bring A into the temple. I was so determined that I just didn't think it through. She can't sit still for five minutes for any reason, so there's no way she was going to do it for an hour or more. I didn't even consider that bringing her out in public sometimes can be downright harrowing, and this place requires even more discipline than the average public situation.

As I'm sitting there with of all my dear friends and teachers, in front of an eight foot Buddha, I'm just white-knuckling it, trying to relax, while my sweet child engaged in the following activities:

- Began to cry when I closed my eyes and sang prayers
- Talked, out loud, the entire time. A running commentary.
- Took my phone and enjoyed getting into my work email, trolling through my contacts, texting a friend (who was also in the audience), purchased an app, did a number of extensive Bing searches for who-knows-what, updated both my Facebook photo (twice) and my status, and looked up the location of neighborhood bars.
- Announced that she was looking for pictures of Muppets (loudly)
- Took off my necklace and swung it around
- Dug in my purse and got out a mirror, put it on her face and declared it a mask (loudly)
- Harassed the woman in front of us (who was very kind and sweet to her)
- Put her hands on the stained glass windows
- Walked to the front to stare at/charm the speaker
- Fell out of her chair
- Laughed out loud when the monk was talking about building more Dharma centers around the world (the crowd LOVED this)
- And, finally, took the keys out of my purse and attempted to stick them in an electrical outlet

When the keys were ripped (as delicately as possible) out of her hands, she began to whine in her monster voice. That's when I decided we've had enough and we both busted out the door with as much grace as I could muster.

For 45 minutes, I'm thinking about the quality of my mind. Buddha says to be patient, compassionate and practice contentment. I'm sitting right in front of Buddha, and I'm starting to get super tense and irritated with my kid's antics. I'm also pretty self-conscious about not being "that mother", who lets her kid run wild at inappropriate times. I'm desperately trying to find a balance here, and I'm running out of luck. She's either going to cool it, or she's not. Either way, I need to stay calm and respectful about the situation, to my fellow Buddhists, and to her. Maybe I don't get to hear the whole thing, and that has got to be ok.

I'm thankful for being able to be there as long as I did. I'm making a note about bringing A to the temple when she's a little older, and maybe trying to sneak in some time to go by myself. I'm also unbelievably grateful that I had over a decade of practice training my mind, because without it, my messy toddler-raising world would be way more out of control than it already is.

Spider Town

The spider population around here is tremendous! There is one big mama in particular that gives me shudders. I don't quite have the heart to rip her web down because it's not really in my way, and I know she's just trying to live. I also fear that if I pulled on it, she could come swinging down and smack me in the face (or anywhere on my body!). Oh man, she is intimidating.

Also, I am glad I'm not another spider. And this is why - there you are, just minding your own business, trying to rebuild after the rain.

 

 

You get a little too close to big mama...

 

And BLAM! She snaps you up, spins you furiously, and crushes you into a little ball. (This is where I start to scream, just a little.)

 

 

Pretty soon you are a tiny, unrecognizable snack. (I can't believe I've just witnessed this, and I start to back up and get A into the house, quickly!)



 





This is A's take on the whole thing: "Don't worry Mama. She won't eat you. It will be ok. I will save you!"

 

And this is where I realize my toddler is more mature than I am. Oh boy.

Just The Facts

"I like to pet cats," A says to me at the breakfast table, quite matter-of-factly.

"You do?" I say, wondering where she got her mits on a cat.

"Yes, I do. They are soft."

"Yes, they are," I confirm.

"And they like to lick me. Dogs lick me too."

I am too busy chuckling to respond, so she shines her brightest smile and says,

"You know?"

Oh yes, I know. She is indubitably delicious. Cats and dogs aren't stupid.

A Vacation Transformed

For our last trip of the summer, we had the very ambitious idea to take A to the Kite Festival at Long Beach for a short little vacation. It started out ok. We took some touristy photos and ate some fried seafood.

 

 

I am discovering the art of taking a small child on vacation, and it is largely trial and error for us. Here are some dos and don'ts that I have discovered:

DO plan your car trip around nap time
DO NOT book a shitty motel room and expect to keep the child entertained for long
DO bring lots and lots of books for your book-lover, and be prepared to read them millions of times
DO NOT expect greatness if the small child has a cold and is grouchy
DO have a plan for activities
DO NOT expect to stick to that plan, and be prepared to bail at any moment

Because the Kite Festival is a huge deal, the only place left to stay when we booked it in April was the glorious Super 8 Motel. Now, a reasonable adult can normally do just fine in a cramped, stuffy, loud motel, but that is not really the case for a sick, restless, unreasonable two-year-old. She didn't like the wind at all, so we spent the first evening in the room. Of course, A and J slept mostly ok, but, as usual, I did not.

In the middle of the night, as I was up checking my Facebook, I stumbled upon an offer from a generous acquaintance to stay here:

 

Believe me, I almost woke my people up and moved out right then. Instead, I decided to surprise them in the morning. They were most thrilled to move on to these fancy digs, just a short walk from the beach and with a great view of the kites.

 

 

Grouchypants felt better about the wind once she got her hat on and got to run around a little bit.

 

She waved to a seagull making a narrow escape from her curiosity.

 

A beautiful day on the beach to kick around.

 

 

Daddy and A got some cozy reading time in.

 

And I even got to indulge in my favorite things, photography and basking in the sunset.

 

 

In the end, I would have loved to stay longer, but it just wasn't in the cards. The girl had just about enough on the third day, so we ended up heading home without doing all the things we wanted to. It is fine, though.

 

J had the perfect perspective on the situation. He said that years and years from now, she won't remember this vacation at all, and we won't remember the details of how frustrating it is to travel with a two-year-old. The only thing we will have are the fun memories through the photographs, and we will always remember it fondly as her first trip to the ocean. 

 

The moral of the story, if there is one, is to remember to foster good relationships with all people, even people you barely know, because something amazing can happen when you least expect it.

 

 



All Hell Breaks Loose, Again

Ever since I've been back from my dreaded 10 day work trip, A has been a sleeping disaster. My worst fears about knocking her off her awesome sleep train have been realized.

We had this down to a magical routine that was years in the making. Bath, books, and bed, peacefully. Sleep for 10-11 hours, in her bed. Cuddle in the morning. Two hour nap in the afternoon.

Now she refuses to go to bed. She just will not do it. Now it's fight to take a bath, read her books, then she wants to read books by herself, then she wants to cuddle, and then she'll go to her bed. And proceed to get back up 5-20 times. We spend hours on this battle every night. We're right back to the beginning with the sleep training, only she's not tiny and contained. She's a big, mighty girl now fighting for control over her environment.

After she's too tired to fight, she sleeps for a few hours and then gets up to crawl in my bed or just raise a ruckus. A few times she's just been up for the day at 3:30am. Not cool. She's getting about 8-9 hours of interrupted sleep now. And no nap. Refuses to nap. We're at a total loss.

We took her to the pediatrician, which wasn't really that enlightening. She just said that it could be residual separation anxiety and to keep putting her back in her room. But why is this happening now? We already did everything right and now it's just destroyed. She's been off her pattern before and has gone back to "normal" within a week. It's been a month.

Is it separation anxiety? Is she going through a growth spurt? Is it just summertime and hard to want to sleep when it is so light out? I would go for this one, but she drags it on until midnight sometimes. Did she just realize that she can open the door, turn on the light and walk out whenever she wants? Is it some sort of developmental pushing the boundaries?

Whatever it is, we can't really make her sleep. We need to contain it the best we can and not engage in the fight. It's just so profoundly disappointing because we really thought we had gotten somewhere, and life started to look a little bit livable again. I was even feeling like my regular, friendly self again instead of a sleep-deprived wound-tight bug-eyed freaky monster.

I guess what Buddha says is true - you can't really be attached to anything. The tighter you hold, the worse things will appear as they are in constant flux and can't stay the same. A flexible, nimble, accepting mind is a happy mind.

I had forgotten.

It's None Of Your Beeswax

I am as curious as they get about people and their situations and stuff, but I have learned that there are just some things you don't need to ask. It doesn't even matter how well you know the person, really. Some things are just none of your damn business. Unless someone specifically invites you into a conversation about having kids/trying to have kids/having more kids/the state of families in the world, just stay out of it.

They start obvious, like, don't ask a woman if she's pregnant, or how far along she is. Ever. Don't ask. If she is and she wants to talk about it, you bet she will. And if she isn't but she appears like she is, she probably knows about it already and really doesn't want to talk about it.

Don't ask a pregnant woman if she wants to have more kids. Pregnancy is a mixed bag and even if you're the most mother-earthy type of woman who wants to fill a giant shoe with children, chances are good that she just wants to concentrate on the task at hand.

You don't need to ask someone with one child, or ten children, if they plan to have more kids. I know you are curious. I always am. But you don't know the circumstances behind those kids getting here, and why take the chance that you are scratching off a painful scab? Kids aren't always easy to come by, and sometimes they are here for religious reasons. Either way, just be cool and try to live with the curiosity.

If I had a nickel for every time someone asks me if I'm having another one, I'd be a rich-ass woman. And when I give them my pat answer of "Oh ho, no, she's plenty", 99% of the time I get a tsk tsk. I don't need a damn tsk tsk and I certainly don't feel the need to explain that statement. Because if you really want to know the story, and you push it enough, you're going to hear this:

I grew up in a kind of unhappy, stressed out, dysfunctional family, and I spent most of my child-bearing years trying to undo unhealthy patterns so that when I did have a child, I would be able to raise it differently than how I grew up. So she could have two mature parents and a stable household, yada yada yada. Then I married a guy that I had to spend years convincing that we would be an awesome parental unit. By the time we started trying to have kids, I was in my late 30's and he was in his early 40's, and our fertility was not that great. We had a miscarriage and it was devastating. We went through a year of painful, expensive and incredibly stressful fertility treatments. I had a high risk pregnancy and our child was born with a serious heart defect that required her to have open heart surgery in her first six months of life. She is totally worth it and I would do every second of it over again to have her, but do I want to take my chances a second time, at the ripe age of 42? No I do not. So don't ask, and don't tsk tsk me. We have a chance to be the best parents we can be to an amazing little human, and we are putting all of our energy into the task at hand. That's all you need to know, unless we are in a deep discussion about all things, and in that case I'm all open. Just take my word for it - she's plenty.

We have to be a little bit self-aware with this subject. It is a complicated, private and potentially painful one. I've learned never, ever ask a woman in her 40's or older why she never had kids. Whenever that's come up, more often than not she tried and wasn't able to. Just the one question can represent unspeakable pain for that woman, and it sometimes never goes away. Or maybe she never wanted kids and never wanted to be judged about what kind of woman she is by being or not being a mother. It could be downright insulting.

I'm not talking about heartfelt discussions with your dear close friends. Obviously, that's different. I'm talking about co-workers, acquaintances, friends of friends, annoying distant relatives, or just people you meet on the street. I've been asked some of this stuff by people I don't even know, and I'm pretty sure they don't want the long answer, although they are never satisfied with the short hand either.

You can't really judge someone else's situation. You don't know their journey and how they arrived to where they are today. If you have no kids or one kid or step kids or foster kids or adopted kids or  twenty kids or non-human furry kids, or a combination of all these things, it's all good. We're all good. Let's just be gentle with each other out there, ok? We've all got our own difficulties and we really don't need to go about making things worse for each other.

Today's deep thought for ya.

Photo Show - Camping Portraits

Here are some pretty decent portraits from our camping trip.

Handsome Brother

Handsome Hubby

More Brother

Grubby Foot

Depth of Focus

 

Looking Back