February 4, 2010
Moments
Hannah has become a professional in the art of stalling. She predictably stalls when we need to go someplace or leave someplace, but she excels in her bedtime stalling techniques. They include: one more hug, one more kiss, another tuck, where’s my baby, I need to use the bathroom (hard to resist when you’re potty training), I’m thirsty/hungry/cold, and her newest addition: I can’t see.
It doesn’t seem like much: a dirty diaper here, a cranky outburst there, a repeated refusal to put on shoes and coat in a timely fashion, but the little things can add up to one big frustration.
That’s why I relish the happy moments; those glimpses of perfection throughout the day. One happy moment can make your heart overflow.
Mine did when I colored with Hannah per her request this evening. She was hard at work drawing Mommy and Hannah, a sleep mask perched just above her eyes.
Earlier at supper she called me the restaurant lady. This title began weeks ago while we played with her kitchen set. Every so often it creeps up during our actual meals. “Restaurant lady, will you get me a potato? I’d like a smashed potato.”
Here’s a few more of my favorite moments from this week:
- Finding a matchbox car in a bag of chow mein noodles.
- Watching her use a wipe on the dog’s nose.
- Seeing her running to the door to greet her daddy.
- Listening to all of her plans for the new baby. (The new baby apparently needs lots of things from the store: a sippy cup, a plastic plate, shoes, and some toys were all requested during our last shopping trip.)
- Snuggling together during nap time.
I’m off to make the most of one more moment: peeking in to see Hannah’s sweet sleeping face.
August 26, 2009
She Who Never Stops Speaking
Disclaimer:
I know, I know- more Hannah quotes.
These are really for me, so I don’t forget the incredible things that Hannah tells me because all too soon she’ll be conversing like an adult. And you don’t see me quoting any adults here, do you?
Me: Are you a kid?
Hannah: No, I’m a girl.
Singing: Up above the world so high, like a dino in the sky.
No! We don’t do that anymore. (We don’t touch the stove.)
To the dog: Tally, spit my socks out!
As we approached the fair, “I don’t want to ride the bucking horse bulls.”
Look at the little piece of moon!
“I have to get ready for school. I’m a teacher. I’m a girl teacher. I’m not a teacher. I’m a helper.”
You can take me anywhere!
Crosswalk = sidewalk
Pewter = computer
Amimals = animals
Bub-a-buh-bly = bubbly (noted after sipping a carbonated beverage)
August 24, 2009
My Own Self
Oh how I’ve come to dread the scenario that sometimes follows that bold declaration: I want to do it my own self. I remember the first time I sensed a problem with my not then two year old’s budding independence. She desperately wanted to put her shoes and socks on by herself, but physically the task was too much for her to accomplish alone. Tears and frustration ensued. Thankfully, she’s left that one to me for the time being.
But tonight unraveled quickly when we arrived home after bedtime.
“I want to shut the garage door.”
“Hannah, Mommy has already shut the door tonight.”
My answer created an instant meltdown. Since I saw her going nowhere quickly, I carried her up the stairs and into the house where she sprawled on the ground and howled in protest. Her rage intensified as I carried her into the bathroom, removed her socks, shoes, and clothing and placed her in the tub. She would not stand up and hold my hands to climb from the tub, her usual ritual. Instead, I lifted her from the tub and diapered, dressed and combed my screaming toddler. Through the tears, her list of grievances was clear: she had wanted to go up the stairs, walk to the bathroom, take off her pants and princess diaper, climb from the tub, walk to the bedroom, climb on the changing table, and stand to have her shirt put on MY OWN SELF. But her tantrum had made her usual participation impossible. Thus, I’d intervened and helped out more than normal.
How often does our Heavenly Father watch us as we stubbornly, stupidly and even amusingly try to do things on our own? How long does it take us to realize we cannot humanly love, forgive, and grow by ourselves? Like my daughter, do we allow ourselves to fall so low that we have no choice but to surrender to His guidance?
After a good cry in her crib, Hannah was ready for Mommy again. She stretched her arms toward me and simply said, “hold me.” Later she was reluctant to leave my arms and dramatically announced, “I can’t walk by myself.”
No doubt our Heavenly Father enjoys hearing those words as much as I do.
June 4, 2009
Mouth of babes
Hannah says some funny stuff that I hope to remember forever.
Hold you me.
Huckle (buckle) myself
Do it my own self.
I have a sandbox in my eye.
The storm has to stay outside. It will go down into the ground.
May 10, 2009
Going In the Out Door & Other Backward Habits
Isn’t it enough that my child is sitting in the cart as we stroll toward the store entrance? Also, her face is relatively clean, she’s not screaming, and I’m not swearing at her or you. Isn’t this enough? Apparently not, because your face turns sour while you piously point out, “you’re coming in the exit doors.” I could point out that my child is not yet two and cannot distinguish between an entrance and an exit. I could point out that the doors opened and welcomed both me and my wayward shopping cart inward. I could point out so many things, but I don’t. Instead, I smile apologetically. Who asked you to point out the obvious?
As a mother, I prefer to ignore reality one in awhile. Take today for example when my child howled when she could not make up her mind between the purple pants and the black ones and Mommy made the choice for her. She continued to scream the entire way to the gym where she flailed in my arms as I carried her to the nursery. Sprawled on the floor, her protest raged on as I left. At this point, I had exactly 30 minutes left to work out. I had to force myself not to use the time crying in a bathroom stall.
So yes, I’m coming in the out door today. And if that’s my biggest error in another day of mothering, let’s all rejoice.
March 13, 2009
Siblings
Given that my daughter is almost two, my eggs are getting old, and apparently I look pregnant, I’ve decided to evaluate reasons to have a second child. Disclaimer: Some, if not all, of these reasons are entirely trivial and should not actually be taken into consideration.
1. Your post baby body still looks 3 months pregnant. (Do you need another reason?!)
2. Your maternity clothes (which were neither inexpensive nor enjoyable to shop for) are still fashionable.
3. You still remember how to use the baby Bjorn and set up the Pack ‘n Play.
4. You’d hate to lose 20 pounds only to get pregnant and “ruin” all that hard work.
5. Your memory of the delivery if foggy enough to do it again, yet clear enough to banish all notions of natural childbirthing.
6. You are completely functional after a night of interrupted sleep.
7. Your baby’s outgrown clothes are still in style. (See # 2 except note that they were fun to shop for.)
8. Your budget includes a monthly allowance for diapers and wipes.
9. You’ve found an “ovulation buddy” on the babycenter community message board.
10. You are afraid your child has developed unnatural bonds with the family dog.
How I Became a Mom
I don’t even have to wear a name tag anymore: my personal and professional life overlap like the tummy bulge on the waistband of my favorite blue jeans. My purse is as fashionable as a diaper bag. Oh wait, it is a diaper bag. And don’t get me started on my repertoire of songs, books, and nursery rhymes.
One day I was sporting a baby belly, confident in my role as an expectant mother. The next morning, with a little help from the epidural, I gave birth to our daughter. Nothing prepared me for what came next.
Motherhood welcomed me with a flood of hormones that left me bawling the moment I walked in the door with our sweet pink bundle. Not even the dog was safe. After the initial introduction, she was banned to the outside world. I, on the other hand, found myself cradling a baby in my arms, terrified by the thought of going out.
Eventually, cabin fever outweighed my paranoia and after packing a dozen diapers, two boxes of wipes and enough extra clothing for a week-long vacation, I headed out. But Hannah cried when I strapped her in the car seat and I spooked. How I hated the crying.
My world had suddenly been reduced to an endless cycle of feeding, holding and changing my baby. A baby so beautiful my heart ached. A baby who cried when she was hungry, cried when she was tired, and cried when I changed her. Did I mention I hated the crying?
With practice, my bravery grew and I began to take Hannah for walks. We strolled through the neighborhoods, my cell phone clamped to my ear. I was desperate for adult interaction. I gave this piece of advice to my friend on her upcoming delivery date: tell yourself that this too shall pass. And it has, a bit too quickly.
My life has been turned upside down. So has my house, but that’s reality with a toddler. Now she sings instead of crying and straddles the dog while commanding “giddy-up.” We go out all the time and do just fine as long as we remember the goldfish crackers. Our days are filled with running, climbing, building, and exploring. When she’s in my arms, I breathe in her sweetness and savor her warm body curled next to mine.
In the beginning, everyone tells you to sleep when the baby sleeps. But the sun was too bright, the neighbors too noisy, and my anxiety level much too high. I tried, but I could not sleep. Come to think of it, I haven’t slept much since. And that explains a lot.
