"Mom, let's go upstairs and hang out with each other."
(Oh, please always ask me that!)
Showing posts with label A little slice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A little slice. Show all posts
Friday, July 28, 2017
Monday, July 24, 2017
It all started with a conversation about Shark Week.
"Mom, I want to tell you something. You're very important to me and I love you and I don't want you to get stinged by a jellyfish or bited by a shark."
Sweeter words have never been uttered.
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Now that you are 5
Dear Sophie,
A couple weeks ago you turned 5 years old and I can't believe where the time has gone. Each day feels like a marathon and I can barely keep up with my life (let alone keeping my letters to you reasonably up to date). There are some things about you now at age 5 that I really want to remember.
You recently saw the remake of the Ghostbusters movie with an all-female cast and you have been hooked. You especially love Jillian Holtzman! You got a Ghostbuster uniform from Emmett's family for your birthday and you regularly wear it around the house in addition to a squirt gun with a backpack attachment that serves as your "proton pack." You bust ghosts every chance you get. The other night when I was making dinner you asked me how long it would be before it was time to eat. When I responded "5 minutes" you said you'd be busting ghosts until then.
You regularly change your mind about what foods you like and what foods you don't. The type of cheese you'll agree to eat varies daily. With the exception of cornbread, you've lost interest in most breads all together.
Alesiah and Elyssa are your best friends. You love to play outside and investigate every plant, bug, acorn, pinecone and rock you can find. Frequently you can hear thuds and rattling from the backseat of our car, and it's from the nature finds you have stashed in the nooks of your car seat and in the storage compartment in the door next to your seat.
You also love ghosts, taking your Trolls' heads off, wearing dresses EVERY SINGLE DAY, going on "nature walks" with your brother, holiday gel clings for the windows, anatomy books, making elaborate creations with paper and scotch tape, swimming, and being thrown on the couch by your father.
You love to sing and are very good at remembering song lyrics. You are also quite creative at ad libbing your own.
You think it's hilarious to randomly cry out, "I want a margarita!" in public places. And you have so much energy that you will jump in place for 30 minutes straight.
Somewhere along the way in the last few months we have started a tradition of you sleeping in our bed on Friday nights. You love it dearly and remind me about it every week. Even though it makes sleeping more difficult, I confess that I love it, too. I gaze at you while you sleep, sniff your hair, gently rub your back, and nuzzle into you.
Even now, after 5 years of being your mama, I am still astounded that you are actually here. The little girl I desperately wanted. And you are my mini me in more ways than I can possibly describe.
I am very conscious of my own clear memories from ages 4 and 5, and I often wonder which memories of our day to day lives you will carry with you. Sometimes at particularly happy or tender moments, I telepathically will you: Remember this. Remember this moment right now and know how much your mother loved you.
I love you Sophia bug. You are my favorite--my favorite who is, was, and ever will be. I don't know where I'd be without you. I work hard to make each for you better than your last, and this new year of your life will be no different.
Love,
Mama
A couple weeks ago you turned 5 years old and I can't believe where the time has gone. Each day feels like a marathon and I can barely keep up with my life (let alone keeping my letters to you reasonably up to date). There are some things about you now at age 5 that I really want to remember.
You recently saw the remake of the Ghostbusters movie with an all-female cast and you have been hooked. You especially love Jillian Holtzman! You got a Ghostbuster uniform from Emmett's family for your birthday and you regularly wear it around the house in addition to a squirt gun with a backpack attachment that serves as your "proton pack." You bust ghosts every chance you get. The other night when I was making dinner you asked me how long it would be before it was time to eat. When I responded "5 minutes" you said you'd be busting ghosts until then.
You regularly change your mind about what foods you like and what foods you don't. The type of cheese you'll agree to eat varies daily. With the exception of cornbread, you've lost interest in most breads all together.
Alesiah and Elyssa are your best friends. You love to play outside and investigate every plant, bug, acorn, pinecone and rock you can find. Frequently you can hear thuds and rattling from the backseat of our car, and it's from the nature finds you have stashed in the nooks of your car seat and in the storage compartment in the door next to your seat.
You also love ghosts, taking your Trolls' heads off, wearing dresses EVERY SINGLE DAY, going on "nature walks" with your brother, holiday gel clings for the windows, anatomy books, making elaborate creations with paper and scotch tape, swimming, and being thrown on the couch by your father.
You love to sing and are very good at remembering song lyrics. You are also quite creative at ad libbing your own.
You think it's hilarious to randomly cry out, "I want a margarita!" in public places. And you have so much energy that you will jump in place for 30 minutes straight.
Somewhere along the way in the last few months we have started a tradition of you sleeping in our bed on Friday nights. You love it dearly and remind me about it every week. Even though it makes sleeping more difficult, I confess that I love it, too. I gaze at you while you sleep, sniff your hair, gently rub your back, and nuzzle into you.
Even now, after 5 years of being your mama, I am still astounded that you are actually here. The little girl I desperately wanted. And you are my mini me in more ways than I can possibly describe.
I am very conscious of my own clear memories from ages 4 and 5, and I often wonder which memories of our day to day lives you will carry with you. Sometimes at particularly happy or tender moments, I telepathically will you: Remember this. Remember this moment right now and know how much your mother loved you.
I love you Sophia bug. You are my favorite--my favorite who is, was, and ever will be. I don't know where I'd be without you. I work hard to make each for you better than your last, and this new year of your life will be no different.
Love,
Mama
Sunday, September 25, 2016
Spilled milk
On Friday evening, I was ecstatic.
Your father and I have both been feeling burned out at work and exhausted. I looked forward to hanging out at home with the two of you, having barbecue chicken sandwiches for dinner, and sipping a glass of wine. As the 3 of us sat down to watch a move together, you spilled your glass of milk.
I had warned you repeatedly about bumping against the table it was sitting on, and about waving your arms around in the vicinity of it. When you realized what you'd done, you looked down with shame and my annoyance softened when I saw your face. I put on my calmest voice and directed you in cleaning it up from the table and floor.
We soon discovered that the milk had also spread under the Lego house you'd built on the table. Your father was getting frustrated, and I could see your unhappiness at knowing that your spilled milk was the cause. I used every bit of patience I had to overcome my fatigue and continue to talk you through cleaning it up. You did a good job.
Afterward, I opened my arms to you and said, "Come here, baby." You sagged against me and said in a small voice, "I'm sorry I ruined the evening, mama."
(Oh, my dearest heart! Any bad evening with you is better than my best evening alone.)
I hugged you and kissed you and told you that you hadn't ruined anything--that it was an accident and you did a good job cleaning it up, and we were all here together.
Your father and I have both been feeling burned out at work and exhausted. I looked forward to hanging out at home with the two of you, having barbecue chicken sandwiches for dinner, and sipping a glass of wine. As the 3 of us sat down to watch a move together, you spilled your glass of milk.
I had warned you repeatedly about bumping against the table it was sitting on, and about waving your arms around in the vicinity of it. When you realized what you'd done, you looked down with shame and my annoyance softened when I saw your face. I put on my calmest voice and directed you in cleaning it up from the table and floor.
We soon discovered that the milk had also spread under the Lego house you'd built on the table. Your father was getting frustrated, and I could see your unhappiness at knowing that your spilled milk was the cause. I used every bit of patience I had to overcome my fatigue and continue to talk you through cleaning it up. You did a good job.
Afterward, I opened my arms to you and said, "Come here, baby." You sagged against me and said in a small voice, "I'm sorry I ruined the evening, mama."
(Oh, my dearest heart! Any bad evening with you is better than my best evening alone.)
I hugged you and kissed you and told you that you hadn't ruined anything--that it was an accident and you did a good job cleaning it up, and we were all here together.
Monday, September 19, 2016
Can I smell you?
This morning I showered and dressed for work in the dark. As I sat on the edge of the bed putting on earrings and preparing to come and wake you, you wandered sleepily in.
"Good morning, baby," I whispered, and held my arms out to you. You lay Blue Blankey and Flamingo beside me on the bed and snuggled against my chest.
"Can I smell you?" you whispered, and buried your little nose into my collar bone, inhaling deeply. I had just put on my favorite peony lotion and we both love it. "You smell good," you breathed.
I hugged you again and stroked your hair, and in that early morning moment my heart was unexpectedly full. How well I remember loving the smell of my own mother. I can close my eyes now and remember how she smelled when I was a child, and the comfort and familiarity that I associated with that smell.
When I dropped you off at school, I bent down to hug you and kiss your cheek. I heard your little nose sniffing me again as your head was against my shoulder.
To know that my smell is comforting to you...somehow it makes me feel like a real mom.
"Good morning, baby," I whispered, and held my arms out to you. You lay Blue Blankey and Flamingo beside me on the bed and snuggled against my chest.
"Can I smell you?" you whispered, and buried your little nose into my collar bone, inhaling deeply. I had just put on my favorite peony lotion and we both love it. "You smell good," you breathed.
I hugged you again and stroked your hair, and in that early morning moment my heart was unexpectedly full. How well I remember loving the smell of my own mother. I can close my eyes now and remember how she smelled when I was a child, and the comfort and familiarity that I associated with that smell.
When I dropped you off at school, I bent down to hug you and kiss your cheek. I heard your little nose sniffing me again as your head was against my shoulder.
To know that my smell is comforting to you...somehow it makes me feel like a real mom.
Saturday, September 17, 2016
References to J.C.
We had a long-awaited playdate with your friend Elyssa this weekend, and it gave her mom Molly and I a chance to catch up. We are similar in our regular cursing and in our appreciation of creative cursing, and as a result we both struggle to raise daughters who don't curse like sailors at all times.
I went into the kitchen to get together some snacks for all of us, and it wasn't long before Molly came in giggling at what you'd just said.
When showing Elyssa a plastic horse that you particularly like, it feel over and made a loud clattering sound and you muttered, "Jesus Christ."
Elyssa's eyes widened, and she asked, "Are you allowed to say 'Jesus Christ'?"
"Not really," you admitted.
I can't believe this hasn't happened sooner and while at school. I feel certain the day is coming.
I went into the kitchen to get together some snacks for all of us, and it wasn't long before Molly came in giggling at what you'd just said.
When showing Elyssa a plastic horse that you particularly like, it feel over and made a loud clattering sound and you muttered, "Jesus Christ."
Elyssa's eyes widened, and she asked, "Are you allowed to say 'Jesus Christ'?"
"Not really," you admitted.
I can't believe this hasn't happened sooner and while at school. I feel certain the day is coming.
Saturday, August 20, 2016
A craft store explosion
I just returned late last night from a work trip, and you are still at mamaw's house. I have a fresh pot of coffee and a desire to organize. Today's the day to smuggle out broken, nearly empty, or unused toys and art supplies. It looks like a craft store blew up in the dining room and I can't take it anymore.
Monday, August 1, 2016
On consent
One day last week I arrive at your school to pick you up and found you fighting against Emmett who was forcefully trying to kiss you. You held him at arm's length for as long as you could, and when he broke through you roughly pushed him away.
I'm always surprised by these every-day situations that have clear ramifications for the future.
As we headed to the car, I thought about what to say to you. I ended up telling you that no one should kiss you if you don't want them to. I told you it was okay to tell Emmett 'no' and that you did didn't want him to kiss you.
It was very important for me to be clear about that.
But then I went on to suggest that Emmett has been your friend for a long time, and maybe you could use your words more to say, "No, I don't want you to do that" instead of shoving him away. You didn't say much about it but agreed, "Okay."
Since them I have replayed how I saw him physically MAKE you let him kiss you, and I have replayed my words to you over and over. He was being so forceful at that point that he might not have paid attention to your words. Maybe he deserved that rude shove, long-time friend or not. Maybe he needs to get the message loud and clear now while he is still young and malleable.
Am I overreacting to this? I can't tell.
I'm always surprised by these every-day situations that have clear ramifications for the future.
As we headed to the car, I thought about what to say to you. I ended up telling you that no one should kiss you if you don't want them to. I told you it was okay to tell Emmett 'no' and that you did didn't want him to kiss you.
It was very important for me to be clear about that.
But then I went on to suggest that Emmett has been your friend for a long time, and maybe you could use your words more to say, "No, I don't want you to do that" instead of shoving him away. You didn't say much about it but agreed, "Okay."
Since them I have replayed how I saw him physically MAKE you let him kiss you, and I have replayed my words to you over and over. He was being so forceful at that point that he might not have paid attention to your words. Maybe he deserved that rude shove, long-time friend or not. Maybe he needs to get the message loud and clear now while he is still young and malleable.
Am I overreacting to this? I can't tell.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Today (1/16/13)
Today your daddy and I are under ridiculous amounts of financial stress and it's feeling incredibly difficult for me to stay calm. I have endless phone calls to make as well as jobs to search and apply for, and I have to make a very concentrated effort to remain in the here and now with you as much as possible.
Your morning nap today was in my arms, against my chest. It has been in the upper 20s and lower 30s here in Concord a lot lately, and it's been a long time since I've been this cold. You were wearing thick, soft, fleecy, red, footed pajamas bought for you by your Nana. They are 9 month size and won't fit you much longer. You felt so warm and snuggly, and your silky hair still smelled like baby shampoo from last night's bath. You only slept a half hour but I hugged you the entire time. For that half hour, I felt a little less anxious and afraid.
Yams are one of your very favorite foots. This morning before he got ready for work, your daddy rode his bike to the store to buy you yams, bananas, and avocados, and when he returned I baked a yam for your lunch. In the last few days, you have learned how to imitate me saying, "Mmmmm!" and after every single bite you happily said, "Mmm!" and opened your little mouth for another bite.
My friend B. told me that she had given her first daughter a box of tissues to demolish for a first Christmas or birthday--I can't recall which. This afternoon I gave you a small, page-a-day desktop calendar that I got for Christmas. At one point I thought I might read some of the quotations on the pages, but instead I elected to allow you to demolish it. I had hopes it might buy me 10 (how did I ever dare think 15?) minutes in which to eat something instead of the usual one bite of food I manage to get on occasion. [On a positive note, I've lost 76 lbs in the last 10 months since your birth.] You were thrilled to receive the calendar and it commanded your intention immediately. You spent 2-3 minutes turning it over and examining it and testing it with your mouth. Then you put it down, tore off the paper cover, and began eating it bite by bite while happily watching "Olive the Ostrich" on the Sprout Channel. Thus, said desktop calendar gift was revoked. You didn't even get past January 1. Maybe I'll read a few of those quotes after all.
Later this afternoon we will take a walk on the paved trail next to our house. You are normally peaceful and quiet while we take walks and I hope that you will be today. Yesterday you kicked off your socks and blanket repeatedly and ripped off your hat only 1/4 of the way into our route. You spent the entire time wiggling and fidgeting and twisting, but you didn't cry.
For dinner I will feed you vegetable soup that you love. I have been making very small pots of soup regularly--full of beans and lentils and veggies--and you really devour it. I put small pieces of broccoli, carrot, peas, beans, and sweet potatoes on the tray of your high chair for you to feed yourself, and then I feed you spoonfuls of broth, onions, and bits of garlic. It is a pleasure to watch you dig in with gusto.
Today, "Yo Gabba Gabba," one of your very favorite shows that I have really come to appreciate, played my favorite music video: "Lovely, Love My Family" by the Roots. I stopped what I was doing to watch and listen, and immediately my eyes welled up as they every time it comes on. I just can't believe there is such a sensitive and bittersweet song on a kids' show, and the second verse makes me long to curl up in my grandpa's arms in a way that is nearly unbearable.
All we need, all we need. All we need.
Spread the love around, yeah
Sometimes when I am sitting by myself
Those quiet moments when not with no one else
I’m mesmerized by all the many good things in my life
I think about the time when I was younger
And the older that I get the more that I feel wiser
With the love of friends and family
Get stronger and it carries me on through
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
Sometimes when I am waiting for the bus
The sun shines bright and I feel peace like nowhere else
I know I'm in good health and life keeps going, I keep moving, I’m alright
I go to school and educate my mind, and the way the world is spinning
makes me want to turn around and start all over, hit the reset and go back in time.
Oh baby love me
Oh spread the love around, yeah
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
Your morning nap today was in my arms, against my chest. It has been in the upper 20s and lower 30s here in Concord a lot lately, and it's been a long time since I've been this cold. You were wearing thick, soft, fleecy, red, footed pajamas bought for you by your Nana. They are 9 month size and won't fit you much longer. You felt so warm and snuggly, and your silky hair still smelled like baby shampoo from last night's bath. You only slept a half hour but I hugged you the entire time. For that half hour, I felt a little less anxious and afraid.
Yams are one of your very favorite foots. This morning before he got ready for work, your daddy rode his bike to the store to buy you yams, bananas, and avocados, and when he returned I baked a yam for your lunch. In the last few days, you have learned how to imitate me saying, "Mmmmm!" and after every single bite you happily said, "Mmm!" and opened your little mouth for another bite.
My friend B. told me that she had given her first daughter a box of tissues to demolish for a first Christmas or birthday--I can't recall which. This afternoon I gave you a small, page-a-day desktop calendar that I got for Christmas. At one point I thought I might read some of the quotations on the pages, but instead I elected to allow you to demolish it. I had hopes it might buy me 10 (how did I ever dare think 15?) minutes in which to eat something instead of the usual one bite of food I manage to get on occasion. [On a positive note, I've lost 76 lbs in the last 10 months since your birth.] You were thrilled to receive the calendar and it commanded your intention immediately. You spent 2-3 minutes turning it over and examining it and testing it with your mouth. Then you put it down, tore off the paper cover, and began eating it bite by bite while happily watching "Olive the Ostrich" on the Sprout Channel. Thus, said desktop calendar gift was revoked. You didn't even get past January 1. Maybe I'll read a few of those quotes after all.
Later this afternoon we will take a walk on the paved trail next to our house. You are normally peaceful and quiet while we take walks and I hope that you will be today. Yesterday you kicked off your socks and blanket repeatedly and ripped off your hat only 1/4 of the way into our route. You spent the entire time wiggling and fidgeting and twisting, but you didn't cry.
For dinner I will feed you vegetable soup that you love. I have been making very small pots of soup regularly--full of beans and lentils and veggies--and you really devour it. I put small pieces of broccoli, carrot, peas, beans, and sweet potatoes on the tray of your high chair for you to feed yourself, and then I feed you spoonfuls of broth, onions, and bits of garlic. It is a pleasure to watch you dig in with gusto.
Today, "Yo Gabba Gabba," one of your very favorite shows that I have really come to appreciate, played my favorite music video: "Lovely, Love My Family" by the Roots. I stopped what I was doing to watch and listen, and immediately my eyes welled up as they every time it comes on. I just can't believe there is such a sensitive and bittersweet song on a kids' show, and the second verse makes me long to curl up in my grandpa's arms in a way that is nearly unbearable.
All we need, all we need. All we need.
Spread the love around, yeah
Sometimes when I am sitting by myself
Those quiet moments when not with no one else
I’m mesmerized by all the many good things in my life
I think about the time when I was younger
And the older that I get the more that I feel wiser
With the love of friends and family
Get stronger and it carries me on through
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
Sometimes when I am waiting for the bus
The sun shines bright and I feel peace like nowhere else
I know I'm in good health and life keeps going, I keep moving, I’m alright
I go to school and educate my mind, and the way the world is spinning
makes me want to turn around and start all over, hit the reset and go back in time.
Oh baby love me
Oh spread the love around, yeah
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely
lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Today (1/9/13)
Today is one of your father's days off, and we all three spent the morning together in our pajamas eating leftover roast chicken and macaroni and cheese.
You have been really fighting your naps lately, so sometimes you don't fall asleep until you absolutely collapse. Today you nodded off mid-bite of macaroni and cheese.
At one point today, when the parrots were squawking and the cat was meowing and you were chattering as you tottered after him, trying to bodyslam him, your dad looked at me and said, "Is something coming? I feel like this is the beginning of an 80s catastrophe movie."
You've recovered from the worst of your cold, but you have a lingering stuffy nose. Today when we aspirated your nose, your father held you in his arms and restrained your arms and cried, "She's on lock-down! She's on lock-down!" while I moved in with the sucker thingy. You screamed and screamed and screamed. It's so hard to keep you still during those times that I am petrified you are going to jerk your head when I have that tube up your nose and that it will jam into your brain and I will have to feed you soft foods forever.
Today I am wearing fluorescent green Crocs around the house, and you love to try to chew on them.
Today I gave two big boxes of your six-month sized baby clothes to a young couple with a baby who responded to my ad on the Berkeley Parents' Network list-serve. It's very emotional for me to give your clothes away. I keep a few of my favorite things stashed away.
Just this morning I was invited to interview for a job here in Concord, and I'm really excited. Now I'm working on getting some child-care established for you. To begin with, we'll focus on just an occasional person whom I can rely on to come over during short-term things, such as this upcoming job interview.
Today one of your favorite "toys" is a tube of my body cream and you've been carrying it all around the house.
As of today, your walking has progressed quite a bit. You don't get further than about a dozen steps at a time, but they are often extremely active steps with lots of standing, bending down to pick things up, turning around, and carrying large stuffed animals involved. You look so proud of yourself as you're cruising along, and you like to walk past the full-length mirrored closet doors in the hallway watching yourself walking and waveing your arms and toys up and down excitedly as you chatter and smile.
Today you started a game of peek-a-boo with me. It's only the second time you've done that, although you've enjoyed watching me hiding and pursing out with dramatic squeals for quite some time now. You had just finished drinking a bottle and were snuggled up with your lavender fuzzy blanket on the couch beside me. I was talking to you and after you hid your face and then gently lowered the blanket and grinned at me, I cried, "Peek-a-boo!" in a high-pitched squeal and you loved it. You are the sweetest peek-a-boo player maybe ever--you do it so shyly!
You have been really fighting your naps lately, so sometimes you don't fall asleep until you absolutely collapse. Today you nodded off mid-bite of macaroni and cheese.
At one point today, when the parrots were squawking and the cat was meowing and you were chattering as you tottered after him, trying to bodyslam him, your dad looked at me and said, "Is something coming? I feel like this is the beginning of an 80s catastrophe movie."
You've recovered from the worst of your cold, but you have a lingering stuffy nose. Today when we aspirated your nose, your father held you in his arms and restrained your arms and cried, "She's on lock-down! She's on lock-down!" while I moved in with the sucker thingy. You screamed and screamed and screamed. It's so hard to keep you still during those times that I am petrified you are going to jerk your head when I have that tube up your nose and that it will jam into your brain and I will have to feed you soft foods forever.
Today I am wearing fluorescent green Crocs around the house, and you love to try to chew on them.
Today I gave two big boxes of your six-month sized baby clothes to a young couple with a baby who responded to my ad on the Berkeley Parents' Network list-serve. It's very emotional for me to give your clothes away. I keep a few of my favorite things stashed away.
Just this morning I was invited to interview for a job here in Concord, and I'm really excited. Now I'm working on getting some child-care established for you. To begin with, we'll focus on just an occasional person whom I can rely on to come over during short-term things, such as this upcoming job interview.
Today one of your favorite "toys" is a tube of my body cream and you've been carrying it all around the house.
As of today, your walking has progressed quite a bit. You don't get further than about a dozen steps at a time, but they are often extremely active steps with lots of standing, bending down to pick things up, turning around, and carrying large stuffed animals involved. You look so proud of yourself as you're cruising along, and you like to walk past the full-length mirrored closet doors in the hallway watching yourself walking and waveing your arms and toys up and down excitedly as you chatter and smile.
Today you started a game of peek-a-boo with me. It's only the second time you've done that, although you've enjoyed watching me hiding and pursing out with dramatic squeals for quite some time now. You had just finished drinking a bottle and were snuggled up with your lavender fuzzy blanket on the couch beside me. I was talking to you and after you hid your face and then gently lowered the blanket and grinned at me, I cried, "Peek-a-boo!" in a high-pitched squeal and you loved it. You are the sweetest peek-a-boo player maybe ever--you do it so shyly!
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
I get it.
For the past few days, you have had your first cold. I blame your snot-nosed, booger-eating cousin, Lucas, from Christmas Day. Anyway, it's no fun. Especially using the sucker thing ("aspirator" sounds so stuffy) on your nose. My god, you fight me as if your very life is on the line when I try to use that thing on you. And you now eye me suspiciously whenever I try to get you to lean back.
In trying to take the best care of you I could possibly take, as soon as I noticed your stuffy nose I jumped into action. I let you have a couple nibbles of grapefruit for vitamin C. I made a small pot of homemade chicken noodle soup and added a little fresh lemon and ginger. Now I think the citrus has given you a terrible diaper rash that we've been trying to clear up.
Blargh.
To make it up to you, I've been trying to amuse you as much as possible when you feel like playing.
In trying to take the best care of you I could possibly take, as soon as I noticed your stuffy nose I jumped into action. I let you have a couple nibbles of grapefruit for vitamin C. I made a small pot of homemade chicken noodle soup and added a little fresh lemon and ginger. Now I think the citrus has given you a terrible diaper rash that we've been trying to clear up.
Blargh.
To make it up to you, I've been trying to amuse you as much as possible when you feel like playing.
(Cool Whip painting on New Year's Eve)
(Tearing up the extra Christmas bows on New Year's Day)
As part of our diaper rash treatment, I have been giving you some "non-dipey" time (part of this weird mommy language I have adopted) several times a day. It's helped a lot, and we've only ended up with a couple of puddles when I didn't time it well. On New Year's Eve I took off your diaper and you crawled away excitedly when you saw Dora the Explorer pop up on the television. You stood up to watch her and immediately began to pee. The unfamiliar noise of liquid dripping into a puddle at your feet caught your attention, and you leaned over to watch. My heart swelled with love for you at that moment.
And now I get it. I get why women want to have another child. After enduring pregnancy and childbirth and the first four months of your life, I SWORE that I couldn't even fathom it. And most of me still can't. Those are the parts of me with good sense. But there is a deep and primal yearning in me that has just begun to hit full force in the last couple of weeks...
I know! I know! You will not be having a brother or sister, believe me.
But on December 19 at 4:45 p.m., you took your first step. You are now up to as many as 8-10 consecutive steps at a time. I clap and cheer for you as you grin with pride, but deep inside something in me is screaming, Slow down! And as you are learning to walk I panic at the knowledge that I will never again have my tiny baby girl. You are no longer an infant; you are a toddler. While I have no choice but to go along, I am not ready.
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