Summer is comming

Just a quick PSA:

SUMMER IS COMING!

Now get outside and enjoy yourself as much as you can!

On seeing Angels

B is never at a loss for words.  That is, unless she can’t explain something. This happened yesterday when I asked for further details on her latest Angel sighting. 

I say latest, because B has never been shy about telling me about her angels. She was an early talker, and before she was two she told me the story about how she was very confused about how to get out [of the womb]. According to her, her angels came and showed her the way out. Now, this story sure made a lot of sense to me (22 hour labor even with the pitocin), but is it true? Does it matter?

Brendan: absolutely not true. Nonsense. He always tells me about how I have such a scientific brain, but I will listen with an open mind about angels and ghosts.

Me: How could she have made up this story? She had never heard another story like this before, how could she make something up like that? How would she know about things like "being old before she got young again?" 

She is not the only one with this “sense.” A and I were talking in the kitchen one day, she was also younger than 2 and we “saw” someone walk down the hallway. I assumed it was just a shadow, but then A walked around the corner and said “who was that?” I didn’t have a good answer for her. In our house, all of the “ghosts” are located in the back hall, in and out of their bedroom. But that is for another time.

The thing that has sparked me on this subject recently was a trip to the river the other day. It started in the AM when my mom and I were doing a tour of the Guthrie. We saw the site of the 35W bridge memorial.  I had a sense for where it was, but I hadn’t really seen the location before.   

Later that same day, I was driving the neighborhood with the ladies.  I went up from the mill district, past the memorial.  B was on the right side of the car (memorial on the Left).  She said, from about the Guthrie (down hill, can’t see the memorial yet) what is coming up?  I told her “Gold medal park*” She said: “No over there.”  Pointing.  Me, clearly dense said: “that is the Mississippi river, just like by our house, where we watch the waterskiing. M-I-S-S-I-P-P-I.”  B, knowing that I am a bit slow said: “That, the thing with the names. The thing with the Angels.”

I passed the memorial and turned right.  I talked about the bridge, and that it fell.  I told her about what was happening the day it went down.  We were walking B in the neighborhood and got a call from Kiyoshi.  He was calling internationally to check on us because a bridge went down. We were flabbergasted.  We thought he was a little nuts and that we were somehow misunderstanding the conversations.  Then we heard the helicopters, etc.   She listened to my story and then asked for us to turn around and go back by.  So I did. Slowly.  We talked about how there are names there, people died.  This is all surrounded by R shouting “bridge down.  Bridge fell down.  Oww.  Falling.”

We then had to pick up something at the law school.  We spun over there, across 35W, and I showed them the new bridge.  They didn’t really see it.  So while/after we talked to papa, I told her to look for a sculpture, and as good NE Mpls girls, they can find a sculpture just about anywhere.  They saw it.  R still concerned “falling.  Don’t drive guys.  1,2,3 cars. Don’t drive it guys.”

B was so quiet and pensive. She asked me if we could go back by again. We did. There isn’t a cut out there, so here we are, looking at the memorial again, blocking traffic on a beautiful day downtown. I read each name, spent about 3 minutes which seemed an eternity with traffic going around us. But we couldn’t get out. Half of our party was asleep in the car and I wasn’t going to interrupt that.  I read the names.  We discussed situation again. She was entranced.

I drove away again and again, the questions started to come.  Her questions ran the gamut from: “what kind of a day was it?”, “What were they wearing?”, to  “Who is Jenny Black?”  There were more, but the last two really struck me as funny.  Especially the specific name.  I said: “B, I don’t think I said Jenny Black.”  She told me “yes you did, you said it. That is one of the victims.”  I was pretty sure that name didn’t sound familiar.  And then she said: “maybe it wasn’t you.  Maybe it was the angel that told me that name.” 

Because she is one to shut down if I push on too specific of information I just said “maybe.”  She then asked me again what they were wearing.  I explained that I would have no way of knowing that information.  I suggested that it was probably not winter coats, because it was August.  People were going home from work, so probably summer work clothes.  But, might I add, the whole time I was thinking what a darn weird question.  Then she came out with “I just wanted to know because I want to know if those are the angels I see there.  There are many Angels and I want to know if they are all in that spot because of the bridge.” I said, that might explain it. 

We moved on, but there were more requests to go back and see them.  B said she thought that it felt very calming there.  B brings up that she sees Angels about every … 6 months?  I am trying not to exaggerate (as is in my nature).  But that would mean that there would be 6 or fewer incidents.  It is close to that, but I would say a few more.   Anyway, she tells me about Nana’s angel that keeps track of her.  She is specific to note that while her and her sisters are nana’s “angel babies” that nana has her own angel and sometimes it is there, sometimes it is missing, but she likes it when nana’s angel shines bright. 

Now I know what you might think. I must pump her full of this nonsense. I should just say S-T-O-P.  I should tell her there is no such thing, she isn’t seeing anything.  I should insist on some sort of scientific reality and not allow her such “childish ideas.” Not going to happen over here. I think it is just fine for her to explore this conversation, real or not. I don’t ask her much about it because the few times I have, she locks up completely.  

Who am I to say that she is not a reincarnated Chinese elder that now talks frequently with Angels? If she is right, she knows much more about this stuff than I do. 

  

*for years I couldn’t figure out why Minneapolis would name a park for the Olympics. What gold medal athlete could they possibly be honoring. I was shocked and embarrassed when the bag of flour practically hit me in the head… Oh yeah… Flour, Minneapolis, Mill district, Gold Medal

Oh, but he does love you

This won’t be the first time you hear me say it, but you may read more into it than I would.  Raising four girls is hard.  I don’t mean the day to day stuff.  That is great.  I love it.  I don’t even mean the laundry (but that is completely oppressive).  What I mean is the whining.  It can really get to you.  I have two ladies that wake up cranky as all get out.  And two that wake up, albeit slowly, smiling and happy.   Here is how the breakdown goes:

There is the Brendan team: A and R.  All three wake up crying (Brendan a little less these days).  They want to be grumpy for about an hour while they shake the sleep out of their eyes.  Then there is my team.  As soon as J opens her eyes, she is smiling.  I have never seen anything like it.  I don’t look her in the eyes sometimes because I know if she sees my eyes, she will smile and be wide awake, ready for the day.  This is not a good feature at 3am.  Anyway, B and I are also in the happy AM crew.  B and I would prefer to lay around for a while, think about getting up, but once our feet hit the floor, we are ready to go.*

Anyway, this was a particularly tough morning.  I was trying to leave.  We were rushing B through the AM routine and A was whining.  R was crying.  They both wanted to sit in a chair with papa.  Just hugging and rocking for an hour while they got ready to face the day.  The whining was really driving us nuts.  I asked A to stop.  I tried to sort out her problems.  I had exactly 3 minutes to get panties on B and get her down the steps with her backpack.  A- still whining.  Finally, B asked papa why he was agitated.  He explained: “Because A is being a twit.” Then he turned to A and said “stop being a twit.” 

Enter the most difficult thing about raising girls (and maybe boys?). She went mid-whine to sobs. Full out HUGE tears, sobs.  And she said: “Papa doesn’t love me anymore.”  CRUSH.  This is how fragile their understanding of self is.  Brendan is the most loving person I know.  He tells each of us every single day “you know how much I love you right?” and passes kisses to everyone.  One moment, one break of calling it like it is.  Remember, A was crying over everything that morning.  She was setting the mood for the day, and it wasn’t a good one.  But in that moment, all she could feel was: “papa doesn’t love me anymore.”   

I suspect we have 20 more years of moments like this in our future.  Moments when the girls will second guess themselves; when they will worry if the world even cares.   We all did, right?  All Brendan and I can hope to do is remind them each and every day that we love them just the way they are. We may not love their actions, but they, at their core are four of the most amazing people I have ever met.   I love their curiosity, sense of adventure, and outlook on the world.   And if there is one thing I hope they know down to the fiber of their beings is that Mama and Papa love you very much.  Now stop whining.

*Brendan will tell this story differently, explaining that he is lovely in the AM.  I find that interesting.

Pacifiers

R is being so funny about her pacifier.  I can tell you right now that I am not sure why she still gets to keep that thing.  I yanked poor A's out at 1 year old.  And because it was a rule, A followed it, but she didn't like it.  And here we are 2.2 and R still has hers.  I am working it out, but it is so much easier to let her just have the thing at nap and bedtime.  R knows she is winning the battle though.  Here are a few moments:

I try to take the paci and she says (in her 2 year old voice) "Why are you doing this to me?????"

She comes out of nap the next day and says "here papa, put this in the paci cup.

The next, she tries to shove it in J's mouth.  "J, paci for you.  Yum yum."

I secretly hope J will not be a paci baby.  B wasn't, A was, R is and J... no?  Here is hoping.

Reading

I was looking up something on my computer and B saw a reading corps logo over my shoulder and got very very excited.  She said: "Reading corps, Reading corps.  I love reading, I love Mr. Justin, I love Anishinabe"  and she did a little dance.  She explained that Mr. Justin and Mrs. Blegen teach her to read and she can do it.  I asked her if she wanted to try a book or flash cards.  She chose the flash cards and read each and every one in my deck.  When she didn't know a word (and she knew so many) she sounded out the word and you could see the "light bulb" flash on.  F-i-sh... FISH!  

It was a fun evening with B and she was so proud of what she had learned.  She wanted me to tell her teachers thanks and that "she can't wait to read stories on her own because she is very curious about every book in the library."  

Brendan insisted that she has always been able to read these things, but she waited for the moment when we could sit down and be awestruck. Because that is how her mama works.  Wants big cheers and "way to go" moments.  

Fine by me.  WAY TO GO B!

Alone time

We had a unique opportunity that unfolded throughout the weekend.  We didn't plan it, but each girl got alone time with us this weekend.  Well.  Alone time with us and baby J.  That counts right?

First B had off on Friday.  So big B and little B went to a new (to us) museum.  It was an engineering museum (The Works) and B apparently had a great time building and playing with just her papa. I wasn't there, so I can't tell you what I found amazing about the day.  She did say that she wanted to tag along with the other ladies in the AM while they went to the library.  She had the day off and she "just wanted to spend special time with my sisters... okkkkkkkkk?"

On Saturday, B and A had an offer to hang out with one of Brendan's law school friends.  She offered to pick them up, feed them dinner and take them off to the arboretum.  Brendan had asked nana to take the other two, but timing was a little off, so R got to go out to dinner with us.  Now the lady at moto-i wasn't so impressed to see R, but we had a great time with her.  She is Ms. Personality.  First, she was very concerned about the spicy bar peanuts that they left at the table.  She ate them and did the "hot hot hot dance and spit routine." (cute, trust me). Then, the server came and asked if she could get us anything R said "YES, CLEAN PEANUTS!"  Server not impressed.   I decided (because R is the baby of the family I am sure) to order the dessert with dinner (mini donuts and ice cream!) so she would have something to really enjoy.  I did remind myself that I would have never done that with B or A. 

We also browsed a clothing store (bought stuff for the big ladies) and then over to the herkimer for second dniner.  Here R was at her best.  Every time something came on with a good beat, she would shout "BUCKET DRUMMING" and start to dance.  There were games there too.  I thought I was a genius.  I got her some connect four.  Put stuff in, dump it out.  This was fun for a long time.  But not for R.  She was smart to say "what next?" "other game".  And when I don't hear her, or she thinks I am not acting fast enough, she sticks her lips way out and talks (as if this will make it clearer).  And if I still don't hear her, she will pinch my cheeks together so my lips go way out and say "otheeeeer gammmme."  We built a few houses out of Jenga pieces for the Jenga piece family.  Then came scrabble... AHHHHHHHHHHHHH.  Anyway.  It was a fun time to focus on the cute bean that is R.

So I mentioned, on the way to bed that B and R had alone time.  What about A?  Well, leave it to A to solve the problem for herself.  I was trying to sneak out of the house at 6:30am on a Sunday to get some coffee, donuts and friend time.  I got J ready.  I decided I would take her with so I wouldn't worry the whole time if someone was planning to feed her milk in my absence.  We had our coats on, stepping out the back door and A appeared silently.  She is our PJ'd ninja.  She can move up and down out of her bunk bed in a hurry.  She can get out of that door without a squeak.  The footies only enhance her stealthy-ness.  She saw me and I put my fingers to my lips.  I whispered in her ear (even though there was no risk of anyone hearing us) "if you get dressed quick, you can come get donuts with me." MAN did she move.  We got clothes, we put them on and we ran to the car.  All of this did mean that we were 14 minutes late for my AM date.  But she was fun.  She had mini donuts, and was sure to share them.  Then, the beignets came. They were covered with more powdered sugar than you could imagine.  A was just tickled.  There were three, so she was passing them out.  One for her, one for Sarah and one for me.  Thankfully Sarah informed her that she was ordering her own.  I wasn't up for sharing EVERYTHING :).  She kept picking the sugar off the top, sprinkling and re-sprinkling hers, but not really eating (she already had 2 donut holes).  I asked if she wanted to put it in the bag that held her donut holes and she said YEP.  Turns out, she wanted to save it for B. When we got back (the rest of the house still sleeping) A said to B "I got you this. Mom took me out for donuts.  I picked this special one that looked like the toy you wanted to buy, but in case you didn't like it, I saved this one too."  What a nice little lady.  We had a chance to sing in the car and chat a bit in public.

So while it was a long term goal for us to have time with each of the girls, I didn't know that we would ever have time for it.  Turns out.  We do and it was just as fun as I imagined it could be.

One of the best parts of it though was how much each girl thought of the other girls while we were out.  They enjoyed being the star, but they made sure to save time or part of the adventure for their sisters.  What little lovers.

Baby J

So, a while ago baby J spent 10 days in the hospital.  Ok, it was 2 months ago.  Seems like so long ago because it was like... 1/2 of her life here with us.  Anyway.  I knew she was sick, but she was showing more and more signs of not feeling good.    Another time I will write up what that was like.  Or I won't.  It was a very out of body experience.

Anway.  She is sick again. She is starting to show more signs of being unwell again.  We are at the point where I try to decide what to do. I would like to take her in, but here are some real problems with taking her:
1) I was home alone with the kids all day yesterday.  Do I take them all with me to urgent care? (now don't jump up and say "you should have called..........."  I know I know.)
2) I am also (very?) sick.  Do I pay two co-pays to figure out what we both are sick with? 
3) If I find out what one or both of us has, I might have to miss work to stay home and take care of her (or me).  I have one sick day at this point.  We can be sick one day, but not two.
4) She can't really be sick again can she?  We did it once. 
5) What do I do about the other three coughing, snotty noses I have? Can't a doctor just decide to pass the meds around? They all have it.  I am sure of it. Do I really need to pay $115 in co-pays just to get meds for the family?  Heaven forbid they prescribe something, that cost doesn't include the prescription. If Brendan wants to join us, it would be even more. 

Anyway.  There are so many positive things that she is doing right now, it is hard to focus on the whole breathing part.  Here is hoping rest, nana kisses and breastmilk is the prescription she was looking for, because for now, that is what I am giving her.

Responsible parenting

I realize that you could go down a crazy tangent about this situation.  But lets just laugh about it for a moment OK?
I was at conferences and the teacher said "I have to tell you something..."  my heart always sinks.  Conferences are just like going to the principals office for me.  I always feel like I am in trouble. 

Anyway.  She said the kids were all playing the game "lets get drunk and pass out."  uh... I don't remember that game from my childhood, so I listened.  She clarified, I rushed over to stop this and redirect, but B was on the scene.  She told them that that wasn't how the game is played.  Instead, B informed these troublemakers that they needed to make sure they all had a safe ride home first.  And if they weren't safe to drive, they needed to have someone drive them home.  You don't drink and pass out. 

Good parenting?
Yeesh.  50 things wrong with that interaction including the pre-school teacher having to say "at school, we don't play drinking games..." At least B is organizing the carpool/sobercab. 

Top Chef

So, I am sure you can imagine that our days are pretty hectic.  We are running here and there, always a lot on our plate.  So, when the dentist called to cancel my appointment, I was a little annoyed.  These things aren’t easy to schedule.  Don’t mess with a good thing.  So I took the not-so-convenient offering they gave me.  And then I cancelled it.  They put me on this crazy short call list and then kept calling with same day appointments.   The short story is, I had to say yes.  I had to take an appointment because I hate voicemails.  So I did.  I went to the dentist after a full day of work.  I could say yes because I knew Brendan was in charge.  One thing led to another, I forgot my milk and had to go back to work, had to run an errand for Rachel, blah blah blah… not home from work until 6pm.

I walk in the door and poor Brendan looks like a ghost of himself.  Jo is screaming, the girls are playing and the kitchen looks like someone tried to make a gourmet meal with only one hand.  I grab the baby and feed her while he finishes the meal.  We are all a bit crazed (the ladies like to eat about 4:30).  Once we sit down (the two biggest in high chairs and #3 running free) B freezes.  She says papa, come to the table.  She has her palm open, face up, guiding him like a professional mediator. 

It is “TOP CHEF” time papa.  We will be the judges.   

(me laughing hysterically.  Her tone of voice and hand motions are all so adult through this)

B: I don’t like what you have done with the cauliflower here.  It looks burnt.

Brendan: I put it in the oven.  I thought it would be a nice change.

B: It smells like brussle sprouts.

Brendan: Is that a good thing?

B: I am not sure yet.  On to the chickpea pancakes…

They go on and on for a while.  Piece by piece.  Brigid giving very specific concerns about her critique of the food.  Then she asked A what she thought.

 

A:YAY PAPA!

Me: do you like the meat?

A: (hands over her head cheering) YAY PAPA GOOOD!

Me: How about the pancakes?

A: YAY Papa!!!!!!!!! (what a papa's girl)

 

So I turned to B.  It looks like the judges are split.  One likes it, one isn't so sure.

 

B: Mom, on Top chef, there are three judges.  What do you think of dinner?  I see yours has a sauce.  Mine didn't have a sauce.  Why are our plates different?  You should think of this when you judge.

Me: I think papa knew that you didn't like mushrooms and was trying to be nice.

B: Were there mushrooms in the basket?  You have to use what you have in the basket papa.  What was in your basket contestent?

Brendan: uh... ahh... (looks to me) 'She watches too much tv."

B: That doesn't matter.  We are judges.  What do we say on the show?  There are three judges and one guy that tells them to go.  "you have been chopped, please pack your knives and go."

Brendan: (head down at table).

B: No, PACK YOUR KNIVES AND GO.

 

Never a dull moment.  I can't even pretend to capture it, but her face/motions/realism with this was amazing.  She was acting so adult and so theatrical it had me in stitches.  Brendan was too puzzled at where she had seen enough of the shows to be able to recreate it so well.  Oh, and maybe he hadn't recovered from the crying baby. How fun.

For Misato

This past weekend we went to a language immersion camp.  This gave us an opportunity to talk about language, and how important it is for us that our children have strong language skills.  B started to ask about Misato, a Japanese exchange student that we hosted.  She was curious about how she could be so strong to practice another language for a month.  We only survived the weekend.

So today I will post a few photos specifically for Misato.  We miss her. 

What a different winter we are having without Misato and without snow.  Both are missed.

Tidbits

R:  "It's my paci, actually.  That pacifier.  That one is mine, actually.  I feel nervous without it." 
(in the cutest 2yo accent you can muster)

B: "My hypothesis about this tree branch is that it is a beehive.  I can see holes in it, where the bees make honey.  That is a clue I am using for a hypothesis.  What clues are you using to tell me it is not a beehive?"

A: "The weekend can't be over, I haven't heard anyone say 'Heeeeers Peter Sagal."

A: "Asanpi Ihidi, Asanpi Ihidi, you will drink Asanpi Ihidi." 
B: "Really? You will drink it?"
A: "I like my Asanpi with Ihidi."
(loosely translated: 1) Butter, butter, you will drink butter.  2) Really? 3)I like my milk with solids.)

R: "I love papa, and mama, and papa again."

B: "I feel confused about why I am the only blonde person in my whole life.  No one at school is blonde, no one at home is blonde.  Am I the only one with such pretty hair?  I feel left out, but beautiful."

Me: "goo gaahh gogo thhhhbdt"
J: "goo gurgle thhhbdt"
(she really can mimic.  It is strange.)

Ok.  anyway.  Not exciting, but just a snippet. 

Secret Garden

Have you ever had the experience where you come across something that you didn't know existed?  Somewhere, perhaps, in a place that you go all of the time?  That happened to us in the past year.  We were on our way to a regularly scheduled event at a very normal location.  This is a spot that we have been for years and years and years.  Ok.  Four years, actually.  But this time, something caught our eye.  We saw a gate.  Now this gate has always been there, but it has always been locked.  In addition to it being locked, it is near a dumpster.  This was not an attractive gate to go through.  But on this day, this cool summer evening, the gate was open.  We also were in the strange situation of being an hour early for something. 

I noticed the gate and I was curious.  I don't even know how or why I looked over there.  Our destination was in the other direction.  But I saw it.  And then, Ms. B saw it.  I could see the wheels turning in her brain.  I am not kidding you when I say that I have never really noticed this gate in 4 years, but today... today it caught our eye.  B said something to A and before I knew it, all four of us were slowly drawn to the gate.  

We peaked in.  I am not sure what we expected to find, but it certainly wasn't what was there.  We peeked.  Then we stepped in. Now, on the other side of the gate was something that you wouldn’t typically find attractive at first glance.  In fact, we took Brendan there after our experience and he said “yeesh… this is…”   But to us, it was magical.  We stepped through and it was like being in another world. 

The space was a mix of concrete and boards wrapping around trees leading to all sorts of dead ends and curious spaces. It didn’t make any sense and you couldn’t get from point A to B without retracing your steps a couple of times.  I am sure the design made sense sometime, somewhere, but it didn’t make any sense in the modern day interpretation of a space for children.   The girls didn’t care. We spent 45 minutes exploring and enjoying this space built around and including trees and open spaces. 

The evening was everything you might imagine or expect from a child when they open a gift, or go to this new museum or activity.  Awe. Wonder. Amazement.  This all happened when we stepped three steps out of an ordinary parking lot.  An experience I could never hope to recreate.  Completely walled in, I was never nervous of where the girls were or who else they might interact with.  We were alone to explore.  Now, I am not going to tell you where we were. Frankly, we don’t really want you to join us. We call it our secret park.  Most of the time, this gate is locked. 

We have brought two people, grandma and papa.  Neither thought it as cool as we did.  So for now, just know that sometimes, when we have an hour to spare, we will explore the unknown. For us, in that moment, it will be magical. I hope to hold the memory of this evening forever. Unplanned, simple, carefree.  I can still feel that they remember it as much as I do when we near the secret garden. 

Math: the three year old version

Today I told Ms. A she was a fantastic mathematician.  Here is why:

A: Mom, will you carry me down the steps in the basket? It is my pirate ship and I need to sail to pick up tinkerbell.

Me: No A, you are too heavy.

A: Hmm... Mom, which weighs more baby J or the basket?

Me: ? Baby J weighs more.

A: Good! That's what I thought.  You carry J and me down the steps, so you can carry me in the basket.

Me: Good problem solving mathematician!   Hop in the basket.

We did make it down safely.  FYI.

Watch what you teach

6 months late... but I seem to find some time on my hands.

We were getting ready for swimming one night.  I was stressed.  Swimming is kind of a tricky thing.  It is something that we can't be too early for because there is a class before us and it is hard to keep kids out of a pool.  We can't come late because it is a short class, and we would miss a lot.  Not to mention the fact that Auntie and Nana are in the class before us and greet us in their suits.  Not polite to keep them cold and waiting.  I have mentioned this swimming thing before.  High stress to get going, but high reward.

So here I was, pregnant and stressed.  I tried to feed the girls something simple.  I don't remember what it was, but I do remember thinking that it was not a meal that Brendan would approve of.  Let's say it was garbanzo beans, cheese sticks, peas and rice.  Remember, I said it was simple.  The goal was to NOT have a fight and for them to get some pieces of what they needed so they wouldn't freak out at the pool.  Well, Ms. A would have none of it.  She refused to sit down, she refused to eat and I may have yelled a bit.  Ok, I yelled.  I said: "LISTEN A, SIT DOWN AND EAT YOUR MEAL."  Now this was to a) avoid freak outs in the pool b) to remain on schedule and c)so there were no leftovers for Brendan to see.  He makes fun of me a bit when I don't COOK dinner.  Anyway.  We went back and forth and then this little 3 yo comes over to me and says "listen mom.  Please calm down.  I am not going to eat the food, so you should just stop yelling about it.  I will probably be hungry, I know I won't get the snack after swimming, so take it out of the bag.  I am just not going to eat, so calm down and move on."  

Let me tell you.  My reaction in my head was not: "wow, what a nice girl that is.  She was polite, expressed her needs, thought out the consequences of her decision.  I am clearly doing the right thing."  Nope.  The thought in my head was something more resembling: "Did that little punk just tell me to CALM DOWN?  I AM CALM.  EAT YOUR DINNER."  I took a deep breath and said "thanks honey for using your words."  I took that snack right out of the bag and said I am sorry in advance for how hungry you are going to be.  

You know what?  She survived swimming.  She even got to the car and passed the snacks to the other girls.  She was very very hungry and asked the other girls if they would share.  They said no.  She slumped her shoulders and said OK then.   I came prepared. I offered to share my banana.  I didn't think this was a win for her because she doesn't love bananas.  In fact, I don't think she would eat one any other day of the week.  But this day, she said "sure mom, we can share.  Take your bites first so that I don't take too much."  

What a nice kid.  Freaks me out sometimes what great skills they have.  It also freaks me out some what a jerk I can be in my mind.  At least it all stays there. For now. 

New baby is comin... move over.

So, little R is my baby.  You can tell why last born children are thought to be a little spoiled. I know we STILL say that about my little brother.  R got nursed longer, she got to use her pacifier longer, she got to use a bottle much longer.  Basically, she gets to be the baby as long as she wants.  Or wanted that is.  The new baby is coming, and it is at the point where I realized that we have much less time than I think.   The recommendation is not to change anything in the two months leading up to and the two months after the baby is born.  Well crap.  That window just closed and she is still in the crib. 

She is a funny lady though.  Her bedtime routine involves (I am not lying here) a massage.  The lady demands a full body massage nightly pre-slumber.  She will move her arms, legs, back, whatever into position.  If you aren’t doing it right, she will take your hands and put them where she wants them.  Especially when it is time for a scalp rub.  The lady is intense.  But, once she is done, she calls “papa…” This means that it is his time to come up, take her from my arms and put her in bed.  Once there, she doesn’t make another peep.

Spoiled that one is.  Stubborn too! Yesterday I asked her to sign finished when she was done with dinner.  She said “Nope” and looked over her shoulder with her arms fully crossed.   Seriously?  19 months and an attitude?   Woah.  

She is also a lover.  She still loves to be rocked, held and even squeezed tightly.  She will bring me the baby sling and ask me to tie her in just so she gets that big hug.   The other miraculous thing?  She can share.  She is 19 months old and this lady can share.   A asked her (not so politely) for a toy.  R looked at her, appeared to think about it a while and then she handed it over.   It wasn’t a mistake.  I have seen her do it more than once.  She shares.  How weird.  

This is not to say that there are times when she doesn’t share.  The big ladies call her “Godzilla” because of how she likes to come and crash/smash/steal from their play.  The good lesson from that is that it can all be put back together.   

Anyway… work calls.  Little Miss R is in for quite a surprise come Halloween.   She thinks it is prime livin being the baby.  Being grown up when she wants to and a baby when she doesn’t.   I keep telling her there will be a new baby.  She doesn’t get it.   Come to think of it, I don’t really get it either.   

School days

School.   What a funny thing.  I was just explaining to B this AM that she has been asking me since she was TWO years old to go to school.   At that time, I remember the ECFE teacher asking me when her birthday would be, so she could start high 5.  I explained that she wouldn’t be 4 for another year and a half.  They were floored.   She is tall, articulate and (ahem… ) mature?  Ok.  I lied about the last part.   She does have skills to build in the social areas, but that is what school is all about. 

The strange thing about school, for me, is that it puts on display all of our parenting skills (or lack thereof).  The teacher will notice if she isn’t polite.  She will notice if she doesn’t shower.  Even if she doesn’t use her utensils properly.   I know the whole world is watching, but the teacher – they have the right perspective.  They know exactly what is on par for this age group and what isn’t.  Of course, this is Lake Woebegone right?  All my kids are above average.  That may be, but I have this lifelong horrible fear of standing out.  It all stems from a 2^nd grade spelling bee.  I pretended not to know how to spell the first word.  This way, everyone knew I chose to be done instead of actually not knowing something in front of other people.  GASP.  Now, I have gotten much better, but parenting sure brings these same insecurities to the forefront.  

Anyway – I could go on for days about what has been going on.   I might.   With my regular posting schedule, I should get there in about… 3 years.   The hardest thing about school for B has been getting up in the AM.  She loves the school, and the friends and the routine, but the morning is torture.   Here is where I think she and I are a perfect match.  Let me explain:

I lift her from her bed singing a gentle song.  She, in toddler terms, tells me to shut the f*up.  I sit her on the couch with me where we have 15 minutes to waste.  I get the lotion she made her nana buy, and rub her legs, feet and back and tell her stories.  These could be about anything.  But here is the trick, one of them has to hook her.  She is so intellectual, that one small hook and she is brought fully out of that sleep and into the world asking questions and ready to hurry into the clothes.   Force or aggression would never work with this lady.  Slow, steady and intellectually stimulating.  Today, a story about how she has been preparing for school for more than 2 years.   

Once she is hooked, she looks at the clothes I have picked out and sitting on the couch.  Inevitably, there is something there that is totally wrong.  That is also by design.  This is so she will get off the couch now and take me to the closet to show me what she WILL wear.  Boom.  No fight about leaving the comfort of storytelling to get engaged with the rest of the AM routine.    Then, in the bathroom she wants to use this fancy pre-rinse that shows her where to brush.  I can handle that.  We brush, potty and put on one of “mama’s necklaces.”  Wait, you say. You let her wear your necklaces?  Oh… there is a trick to that too.  I bought some costume necklaces at the State Fair for $2.00 a piece.  They are MINE (wink, wink) and she is wearing them proudly.

Anyway.  That is our routine. We go to the bus stop and sit and talk about nature.  We observe things like why is some of the sidewalk wet while other parts are dry?  Why is it colder today w/o clouds then it was yesterday w/ clouds?  Why does that lady wear tennis shoes with her skirt on her way to the bus?  We are learning all about this dang neighborhood in our 10 minute wait.  

The remaining mystery?  Why in the past two days has she hesitated getting on the bus in the AM?  What is the problem and what is the “trick” to solving it?  I have my theories… but you stopped reading by now anyway.