I regret having let a couple of months pass without documenting the small things that truly do make up a couple of amazing little lives. But at the same time, it's just as hard to waste time (when I finally find some) on laments, vs. rushing to fill the gaps.
Today, I feel the sour taste of our upcoming big cross-country move. Today was Thanksgiving - and such a very, very good one. Watching the kids among family took away a lot of stress and almost eliminated the ongoing little wheels of daily worries in my head. The day went well - one of those (uncommon) days when everything works out just right; Jack takes a three-hour morning nap ahead of the party while I have a chance to cook without hurry and having to track down an almost-mobile enthusiastic 15-month-old. I've also reached a point within the last couple of weeks of not having time or energy to fret over irrelevant things and am actually finding it easier to relax when I can. So this afternoon was almost picture-perfect, with food and family and catching up and watching the kids act so well-adjusted and be so loved.
Among the daily noise, to distill a deep emotion is hard; but in step with the spirit of the holiday, I'd like to tell myself how grateful I am. I've ran ragged this last year; but even during the most difficult days, I can look back and know that I have not lost an ability to focus on a split moment of a day and feel gratitude and a wordless, ephemeral 'thank you' when I catch a sight of Maya's lit-up face; or when Jack breaks into one of his extra-goofy grins, so wide that he has to shut his eyes to allow the ecstasy onto the rest of his face; or a sweet, heartbreaking hug out of nowhere, the feel of Jack's cheek on my chest as he grows tired and tucks himself into me... I would readily volunteer that my life is far from perfect, but on days like this, I can't bring myself to dig up the usual familial junk, and instead truly want to just pack my heart tight with memories of light and laughter and the kids' smiles.
Jack's illness, like absolutely nothing else in my life, has, since its first moment of arrival, without mercy brought down a lesson of instant appreciation. For every moment gone right. For every unexpected act of kindness from my kids. For their strong love for each other, even at such a tender age. For the soft breathing I get when checking on them late at night. For how they mend their parents' grown-up relationship with all its undone pieces.
My kids confirm to me that my life ambition is not about proving myself or improving myself; it's about doing right, doing well no matter what the 'doing' is - managing multi-million dollar projects or cooking Jack's baby food late in the night. My kids give me my discipline and drive me to shed any preconceived notions about what or who I need to be. I am without a question a better person because of them.
My dear little ones: I'm short on words to let you know how infinite my sense of gratitude is for you. The gift of both of you feels just like grace... completely undeserved and utterly amazing. I pray for your health; for your faith; for your character; for your passion and interests; for your future families; for my relationship with you for the rest of our lives. I love you - such small words compared to how large I feel about you.
November 24, 2011
August 26, 2011
Simply Happy Birthday - my letter to Jack
My sweet little buddy:
Two days ago, we celebrated your first birthday.
In a traditional sense, it was not really much of a celebration! Life had you spend the day @ the school (although I did go cross-down the day before to make sure you little guys had your share of tiny chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting from Whole Foods...), and just as I was leaving the office to find the rest of you, my family, and celebrate, my car broke down in the parking lot and all of you had to spend your evening rescuing me. We attempted to atone for the non-celebration by letting you feed yourself some chocolate cake, which you happily did - and we hand-washed you afterwards.
However, I'm not disappointed in any turn of events on your birthday (somehow I also know that neither are you! Not yet anyway...). Simply for the fact that the main part of the day, the celebration singing high in my soul, drenching tears from my eyes all day was that YOU were with us - that this you, this tiny ball of life, were so happy and so blissfully ignorant of the reason for my high emotions.
I have relived your birthday, a year ago, almost to the minute, when away from you, in the middle of usual and mundane. The un-happening of the induction by the late morning from the night before; the decision to proceed with C-section; the whirlwind that followed and the miracle of hearing you @ 2:14 in the afternoon. I relived, also, all the days that were to come after your birth. The sharp, clean, sterile smell of Le Bonheur NICU; the undying shrill of multiple monitors, in your room and countless others; the quiet voice of Dr. Knott-Craig the day before the surgery; the endless wait during your open-heart and small frequent updates from the OR; the first sight of you after your surgery in CVICU, your little mouth open in your anesthesia sleep and unending lines and monitors; the soft waterfall 'whoosh' of your oxygen generator in the NICU... memories so present and fresh, and yet so far removed.
Through your Adventures of Jack, I have learned the painful vulnerability that will probably never leave. The ability to look at my children and fear. The heartbreak of thousands of parents faced with scenarios far worse than ours. The usual glamour and glitz of pregnancy and cute baby circuit shattered by the crossing of the threshold of a Children's Hospital.
Don't get me wrong, Jack-o. I look at you, I feel your small but vigorous strength, and I know you are an undeniable survivor.
Two days ago, we celebrated your first birthday.
In a traditional sense, it was not really much of a celebration! Life had you spend the day @ the school (although I did go cross-down the day before to make sure you little guys had your share of tiny chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting from Whole Foods...), and just as I was leaving the office to find the rest of you, my family, and celebrate, my car broke down in the parking lot and all of you had to spend your evening rescuing me. We attempted to atone for the non-celebration by letting you feed yourself some chocolate cake, which you happily did - and we hand-washed you afterwards.
However, I'm not disappointed in any turn of events on your birthday (somehow I also know that neither are you! Not yet anyway...). Simply for the fact that the main part of the day, the celebration singing high in my soul, drenching tears from my eyes all day was that YOU were with us - that this you, this tiny ball of life, were so happy and so blissfully ignorant of the reason for my high emotions.
I have relived your birthday, a year ago, almost to the minute, when away from you, in the middle of usual and mundane. The un-happening of the induction by the late morning from the night before; the decision to proceed with C-section; the whirlwind that followed and the miracle of hearing you @ 2:14 in the afternoon. I relived, also, all the days that were to come after your birth. The sharp, clean, sterile smell of Le Bonheur NICU; the undying shrill of multiple monitors, in your room and countless others; the quiet voice of Dr. Knott-Craig the day before the surgery; the endless wait during your open-heart and small frequent updates from the OR; the first sight of you after your surgery in CVICU, your little mouth open in your anesthesia sleep and unending lines and monitors; the soft waterfall 'whoosh' of your oxygen generator in the NICU... memories so present and fresh, and yet so far removed.
Through your Adventures of Jack, I have learned the painful vulnerability that will probably never leave. The ability to look at my children and fear. The heartbreak of thousands of parents faced with scenarios far worse than ours. The usual glamour and glitz of pregnancy and cute baby circuit shattered by the crossing of the threshold of a Children's Hospital.
Don't get me wrong, Jack-o. I look at you, I feel your small but vigorous strength, and I know you are an undeniable survivor.
August 20, 2011
Vin Diesel
Jack started going to our daycare on 7/25/11. Despite my almost disabling fear, he was not immediately struck with any number of various kiddo viruses, and my prayer is that it continues this way!
He does well in school (he's definitely having less trouble taking naps in school than did Maya when she first started - whether that's attributed to his more laid-back personality, or some changes in the Nursery II room since Maya was there, hard to tell). In a recent development, however, Allan has informed me that Jack has earned himself a nickname from his teachers. Of all things... Vin Diesel? Apparently our teachers believe Jack bears an uncanny resemblance to The Fast and The Furious hero.
This has prompted me to investigate Vin Diesel's official Facebook page (and seventeen hundren profile photos generously included there), after which I had to come to the conclusion that indeed, my little man's bold profile does indeed resemble Vin.
I hold out hope, however, that with appearance of *any* hair (any time now...) Jack will emerge as a star all his own...
He does well in school (he's definitely having less trouble taking naps in school than did Maya when she first started - whether that's attributed to his more laid-back personality, or some changes in the Nursery II room since Maya was there, hard to tell). In a recent development, however, Allan has informed me that Jack has earned himself a nickname from his teachers. Of all things... Vin Diesel? Apparently our teachers believe Jack bears an uncanny resemblance to The Fast and The Furious hero.
This has prompted me to investigate Vin Diesel's official Facebook page (and seventeen hundren profile photos generously included there), after which I had to come to the conclusion that indeed, my little man's bold profile does indeed resemble Vin.
I hold out hope, however, that with appearance of *any* hair (any time now...) Jack will emerge as a star all his own...
Jack makes two (in the bath)...
Jack's stellar sitting skills allowed recently for a sizeable step in reducing evening routine time - there are now two 'rubber duckies' in the batch each night. :) In my world, saving roughly twenty minutes on a daily basis counts for major brownie points.
I'll have those brownies now, thanks.
I'll have those brownies now, thanks.
July 31, 2011
July 29, 2011
But I want you now...
Sometimes my kids leave me speechless in the 'everything's right with the world' kind of way.
I called home late yesterday, from our office in Oregon, to check in. Allan said Maya wanted to talk to me, and handed her the phone... "Mama?" she said. "Are you here?" No, buddy, I'm not 'here' yet. "But I want you!" Oh, sweet buddy. I know. I'll be home tomorrow. "But I want you now! I see an airplane... Are you in the airplane?" It's not *my* airplane, buddy. I'll be back as soon as I can. "I miss you, Mama."
Blinking away tears, here.
Allan said she saw a helicopter while playing in the pool, and rushed the backyard, her little naked self, shouting "Mama is coming!". And repeated that for every plane she saw.
Today, she's hardly let me go, very sweet and affectionate. Seeing Jack-man was stupendous, too... boy, I want to can this feeling of elation and OK-ness...
I called home late yesterday, from our office in Oregon, to check in. Allan said Maya wanted to talk to me, and handed her the phone... "Mama?" she said. "Are you here?" No, buddy, I'm not 'here' yet. "But I want you!" Oh, sweet buddy. I know. I'll be home tomorrow. "But I want you now! I see an airplane... Are you in the airplane?" It's not *my* airplane, buddy. I'll be back as soon as I can. "I miss you, Mama."
Blinking away tears, here.
Allan said she saw a helicopter while playing in the pool, and rushed the backyard, her little naked self, shouting "Mama is coming!". And repeated that for every plane she saw.
Today, she's hardly let me go, very sweet and affectionate. Seeing Jack-man was stupendous, too... boy, I want to can this feeling of elation and OK-ness...
July 15, 2011
Brother, sister
A couple of days ago, I'm waking up Maya for school. She's *quite* sleepy, starting to work on the eye-opening process, and is as 'out' as they make them... suddenly through her fog, I get her first question of the morning, all raspy and sleepy: "Is Jack up?" Me: "No, buddy, he's still asleep." Intending to prove me wrong as early as he can, Jack loudly signals himself at that very moment. Maya sheds all her deep-sleep state, shoots straight out of bed and, running down the hall to his room, throws me "Mama, you stay there, I'll help Jack!".
That little boy's got one cool sister.
That little boy's got one cool sister.
July 08, 2011
My Fair Lady
Yesterday when I told Maya that my birthday would be today, she put on her grumpy pants and demanded that it be *her* birthday instead. We had to gently change the subject.
Between this birthday jealousy, and the fact that I was dealing with a three-year-old, I was certain she forgot all about it.
Then this morning, while I was getting ready in the bathroom, she brought me a piece of (wooden but real) birthday cake (her Christmas gift since she's just a little crazy about birthday cakes) on its appropriate plate, and gave it to me, saying "Happy Birthday, Mama!"
She's just so ... unbelievable.
Between this birthday jealousy, and the fact that I was dealing with a three-year-old, I was certain she forgot all about it.
Then this morning, while I was getting ready in the bathroom, she brought me a piece of (wooden but real) birthday cake (her Christmas gift since she's just a little crazy about birthday cakes) on its appropriate plate, and gave it to me, saying "Happy Birthday, Mama!"
She's just so ... unbelievable.
Rainbow
I was thinking of a clever and deeply meaningful title for this post, but there really isn't one - or a need for one.
The evening of the last post, Maya and I were driving back home, and the entire ride home, about fifteen minutes, in a rainless sky, in a high, fuzzy, billowy evening-colored cloud bank lighted up by summer sunset, there was a left arch of a rainbow. Beautiful and pronounced. Some atmospheric oddity. Or what I without question felt was the answer to my ongoing prayer. I kept looking straight at it, as it was always in front of my car, and simply felt secure and assured. At some point I questioned if I wasn't imagining it, but there it was, and still was, and still was even as we turned onto our street.
So you know, you see. It's a strange dichotomy of being spiritually firm and lifted up while living in emotional chaos. Even the most intense emotional swings are subdued in part due to high physical stress of commute, still-broken sleep, attempts at high-powered lengthy concentration in the office, and overall simple physical inability to process emotional extremes fully. Maybe that's for the best in a way. But through the 'refinery' of this I feel a solid bedrock that even through the worst days moves not. And that's awesome, and incredibly encouraging. He does lift me up. Or He simply doesn't let me go down.
For the most part, I have been able to superimpose this grace onto the kids no matter what because the sense of responsibility for what they're exposed to is really high, it's like an imposed awareness of what I look like and sould like to them at all times. Perhaps I'm really, *really* sensitive to that from some of my own kid experiences. But that's OK if the end result is measured words and measured approach to them no matter what. Some times it's harder than others just because some times all I really have left in me is strength for a few stumbling footsteps to fall on my bed, but as old adage goes, parenting takes no breaks (no prisoners, either).
Though it's such a bother in countless other ways, the long commute does give me a chance to privately worship through music, to find echoes in lyrics that are meaningful to me, to cry when a certain truth hits home more than before. "When all of a sudden / I am unaware of these / Afflictions eclipsed by glory / I realize just how / Beautiful you are and how / Great your affecions are for me..." (I used to hum this song a lot to Jack when he was first back from the hospital on oxygen and Mom was still here and the whole house could be cut rigid with stress).
It is possible to feel tired and strong. Wronged and right. Humbled and powerful. In fact those combinations become more meaningful. I've never believed in God, or trusted Him, more. It's a huge relief to know that some changes, should they take place, are simply not up to me - but neither are they up to others. I choose to follow a Miracle Worker, and relinquishing the fear and angst of attempting miracle-working myself is unreal relief. It allows faith in seemingly impossible, in seemingly gone and lost, in seemingly irrevocably damaged.
The evening of the last post, Maya and I were driving back home, and the entire ride home, about fifteen minutes, in a rainless sky, in a high, fuzzy, billowy evening-colored cloud bank lighted up by summer sunset, there was a left arch of a rainbow. Beautiful and pronounced. Some atmospheric oddity. Or what I without question felt was the answer to my ongoing prayer. I kept looking straight at it, as it was always in front of my car, and simply felt secure and assured. At some point I questioned if I wasn't imagining it, but there it was, and still was, and still was even as we turned onto our street.
So you know, you see. It's a strange dichotomy of being spiritually firm and lifted up while living in emotional chaos. Even the most intense emotional swings are subdued in part due to high physical stress of commute, still-broken sleep, attempts at high-powered lengthy concentration in the office, and overall simple physical inability to process emotional extremes fully. Maybe that's for the best in a way. But through the 'refinery' of this I feel a solid bedrock that even through the worst days moves not. And that's awesome, and incredibly encouraging. He does lift me up. Or He simply doesn't let me go down.
For the most part, I have been able to superimpose this grace onto the kids no matter what because the sense of responsibility for what they're exposed to is really high, it's like an imposed awareness of what I look like and sould like to them at all times. Perhaps I'm really, *really* sensitive to that from some of my own kid experiences. But that's OK if the end result is measured words and measured approach to them no matter what. Some times it's harder than others just because some times all I really have left in me is strength for a few stumbling footsteps to fall on my bed, but as old adage goes, parenting takes no breaks (no prisoners, either).
Though it's such a bother in countless other ways, the long commute does give me a chance to privately worship through music, to find echoes in lyrics that are meaningful to me, to cry when a certain truth hits home more than before. "When all of a sudden / I am unaware of these / Afflictions eclipsed by glory / I realize just how / Beautiful you are and how / Great your affecions are for me..." (I used to hum this song a lot to Jack when he was first back from the hospital on oxygen and Mom was still here and the whole house could be cut rigid with stress).
It is possible to feel tired and strong. Wronged and right. Humbled and powerful. In fact those combinations become more meaningful. I've never believed in God, or trusted Him, more. It's a huge relief to know that some changes, should they take place, are simply not up to me - but neither are they up to others. I choose to follow a Miracle Worker, and relinquishing the fear and angst of attempting miracle-working myself is unreal relief. It allows faith in seemingly impossible, in seemingly gone and lost, in seemingly irrevocably damaged.
July 05, 2011
God - YOU know?
God - YOU see?
I cannot relay this to my family, absurdly because they already know and dislike. I cannot spill soul to a friend, none live close or none I care to admit my failure of ultimate choice to. Somehow just let me know You know and You see. Unfairness so large my soul struggles and shakes and refuses to contain it. So monstrous in size and scope that my protection of my kids solely, every day anew, prevents me from wiping it all off, clean and walking away to attempt to recover some dignity and self-respect. Nothing else, at all. It's all my perverted sense of duty, and some shred of thought that in all this, Your purpose is present, though I'm enraged at knowing how deeply I'm hurt, and how thoughtlessly, and how persistently.
God - YOU see?
I cannot relay this to my family, absurdly because they already know and dislike. I cannot spill soul to a friend, none live close or none I care to admit my failure of ultimate choice to. Somehow just let me know You know and You see. Unfairness so large my soul struggles and shakes and refuses to contain it. So monstrous in size and scope that my protection of my kids solely, every day anew, prevents me from wiping it all off, clean and walking away to attempt to recover some dignity and self-respect. Nothing else, at all. It's all my perverted sense of duty, and some shred of thought that in all this, Your purpose is present, though I'm enraged at knowing how deeply I'm hurt, and how thoughtlessly, and how persistently.
June 27, 2011
Lightning bugs
There's a memory I have been meaning to jot down, and as usual, life's crazy current almost carried it away. Weekend before last, we spend @ Allan's Dad's house. After Jack has gone to bed, we went outside with Maya, onto that lazy quiet tree-lined street I hope I'll always remember. Beautiful evening at dusk.
After a couple of fake-monster chases, which I still regret not photographing, we saw fireflies starting to come out. So we caught a few, and every time handed one off to Maya - who gingerly stretched her stiff palm to accept the bug, and then watch with hesitation and joy for it to fly off.
You won't remember this, Fairy, but I will.
After a couple of fake-monster chases, which I still regret not photographing, we saw fireflies starting to come out. So we caught a few, and every time handed one off to Maya - who gingerly stretched her stiff palm to accept the bug, and then watch with hesitation and joy for it to fly off.
You won't remember this, Fairy, but I will.
June 19, 2011
June 09, 2011
Funny ha-ha
Maya's first now-recorded brazen adventure into amateur stand-up act. Last night at story time (she insists on re-reading the book herself, which I have just read to her, every night) we were going through her Potty Book (a slight step backwards in choice of reading material, I admit, but it was her pick).
As she opens up each page of the story of a baby navigating complex and often unpredictable, filled with peril world of Potty, she rephrases every sentence with "MAMA used diapers..." followed by uprorious laughter, then "MAMA tries the potty...", more guffaw, then "MAMA wets her pants..."
Applause in the studio, please. Can someone send David Letterman a resignation letter for him to sign?
As she opens up each page of the story of a baby navigating complex and often unpredictable, filled with peril world of Potty, she rephrases every sentence with "MAMA used diapers..." followed by uprorious laughter, then "MAMA tries the potty...", more guffaw, then "MAMA wets her pants..."
Applause in the studio, please. Can someone send David Letterman a resignation letter for him to sign?
June 08, 2011
No wings yet...
Maya, having a lengthy conversation in the car on the way home today: "Mama, Buzz is my best friend."
Me: "Really?"
Maya: "Yeah. He can fly!"
Me: "Can you fly with him?"
Maya, sad: "No, Mama. I can't fly."
Me: "Is it because you don't have wings?"
Maya, still sad: "Yes. I don't have my wings yet, Mama."
...
I hope you don't get your wings for a very, very, very, VERY long time, dear Fairy. I'm selfish like that.
Me: "Really?"
Maya: "Yeah. He can fly!"
Me: "Can you fly with him?"
Maya, sad: "No, Mama. I can't fly."
Me: "Is it because you don't have wings?"
Maya, still sad: "Yes. I don't have my wings yet, Mama."
...
I hope you don't get your wings for a very, very, very, VERY long time, dear Fairy. I'm selfish like that.
Somehow, as my kids slowly-but-really-fast get older, my love and emotion for them only increases. With every small milestone, there's this seemingly endless expansion of my affection for them; my solid awareness of my responsibility for them; now-growing concerns of raising them well and setting an example of faith and fairness and discipline.
I'm more aware than before that they notice every facial expression, every variation of tone, every hint of impatience they didn't deserve but were served anyway. Consequently, I'm actively aware of my outward reaction to them at nearly all times. They do not need to carry my troubles, my physical state, my emotional load, my lack of sleep, my financial concerns. It's their childhood and my influence should be optimal - they should always know I'm 'safe', I'm 'fair', I'm 'kind', with (mostly) unfailing consistency.
That may not be humanly possible at ALL times. But I can make it a superimposed priority MOST of the time. And apologize sincerely for the rest.
I'm more aware than before that they notice every facial expression, every variation of tone, every hint of impatience they didn't deserve but were served anyway. Consequently, I'm actively aware of my outward reaction to them at nearly all times. They do not need to carry my troubles, my physical state, my emotional load, my lack of sleep, my financial concerns. It's their childhood and my influence should be optimal - they should always know I'm 'safe', I'm 'fair', I'm 'kind', with (mostly) unfailing consistency.
That may not be humanly possible at ALL times. But I can make it a superimposed priority MOST of the time. And apologize sincerely for the rest.
June 06, 2011
My small healer
Today, as I'm loading Maya in the car at daycare on the way home, I'm hassled, stressed, super-hot, tired, drained. "Baby," I say, "please get in your seat. I'm not feeling so good." Maya, from her seat, looking at me very seriously, puts her cool hand on my forehead and holds it there, quietly. I swear all the pain went away right then and there. "There, Mama," she says. "It's all better now."
Tissue, please?
Tissue, please?
June 04, 2011
There are times I think that, as a general preference, I could have more children. When I think that, I'm really projecting into an idealistic version of a future with grown children (three? four?). Then during days like this, I know that another pregnancy and another infant period will most likely do me in.
May 30, 2011
Whew...
Dearest Jack:
I have an urgent request for you. I would like to ask that, in the event you once again decide to scare your Deal Ol' Mom witless, you certainly do so, but with methods far less dramatic than running crazy fever all weekend. I promise that I will be (or act) just as terrified and confused if you, say, jump out from behind the closet door. Or dump a bucket of ice water on my head. Or eat your vegetables at dinner.
Seriously, dear boy, there are non-self-destructive ways to get after your Mother. Please choose from a staggering variety of those, next time.
I have an urgent request for you. I would like to ask that, in the event you once again decide to scare your Deal Ol' Mom witless, you certainly do so, but with methods far less dramatic than running crazy fever all weekend. I promise that I will be (or act) just as terrified and confused if you, say, jump out from behind the closet door. Or dump a bucket of ice water on my head. Or eat your vegetables at dinner.
Seriously, dear boy, there are non-self-destructive ways to get after your Mother. Please choose from a staggering variety of those, next time.
May 28, 2011
Maya, frustrated this morning, while trying unsuccessfully to pump out baby lotion onto Dad's hair: "Mama, it doesn't work! It needs new batteries."
Jack, having just crossed his nine-months mark (go Jack!), decides that our instructions from the pediatrician to get him a physical therapist to help him learn to sit are for the birds, and sits freely on his own the day after. He can't quite sit up from his usual belly-flop position, but he sat for almost half an hour today once I sat him up, can balance on his own which he couldn't do just a few days back.
Jack, having just crossed his nine-months mark (go Jack!), decides that our instructions from the pediatrician to get him a physical therapist to help him learn to sit are for the birds, and sits freely on his own the day after. He can't quite sit up from his usual belly-flop position, but he sat for almost half an hour today once I sat him up, can balance on his own which he couldn't do just a few days back.
May 25, 2011
Picking up Maya from daycare, I ask if she needs to use a potty. She says yes, shuffles over to their miniature potty, pulls her pants down, lifts up the toilet lid, and stands over it. Completely and totally like a boy, about to pee down her legs any minute. "No!" I say emphatically. "Baby, we don't pee that way, you need to sit down." Maya grows defiant, insisting that this is how she'll pee from now on because she's a free individual. Or something similar. Takes me and Shelby (one of the teachers) to talk her off her stand-to-pee high horse, and she's upset.
Some day I intend to address the proper reasons. Some day.
Some day I intend to address the proper reasons. Some day.
May 23, 2011
Double
Maya's newest gem (when referring to a pair of something): "two tof them," with an extra 't' for good measure.
She's still the best.
She's still the best.
May 15, 2011
Leaps and bounds (and boundaries)
My little gent is all over the place (literally, as well) with things he can do, things that are quickly changing. He's graduated to the toddler insert bath (the fun inflatable one that fits inside our guest bathtub) and is learning to appreciate it. He still produces some grumbles on being first submerged and made sit in it, but a toy - any toy, the more chewable, the better - quickly resolves the grumpiness. Plus, I discovered he's a big fan of me 'swimming' him: holding him under his head and tiny butt and floating him on his back, back and forth.
He's also on his hands and knees since earlier in the week... I'm starting to think he'll fully crawl before he fully sits up. Which is fine. The frequency of his up-at-'em kind of rolling back and forth, while up on hands and knees, seems to be doubling daily. Strong, growing, sweet boy. He does his mama's heart a LOT of good.
Maya's been battling small but pesky cold, which left her nose red and very roughed up, which is not pretty, nor is it comfortable for her. So the episodes of her acting out and misbehaving are up as well. I suppose she's also picking up on some of the adult tension, and I'm regretting in any way affecting her. She's a sensitive flower child, I don't want any permanent emotional scarring...
He's also on his hands and knees since earlier in the week... I'm starting to think he'll fully crawl before he fully sits up. Which is fine. The frequency of his up-at-'em kind of rolling back and forth, while up on hands and knees, seems to be doubling daily. Strong, growing, sweet boy. He does his mama's heart a LOT of good.
Maya's been battling small but pesky cold, which left her nose red and very roughed up, which is not pretty, nor is it comfortable for her. So the episodes of her acting out and misbehaving are up as well. I suppose she's also picking up on some of the adult tension, and I'm regretting in any way affecting her. She's a sensitive flower child, I don't want any permanent emotional scarring...
May 13, 2011
Watching Jack perform an agile (and speedy) army-crawl across the floor of his room, I thought today that he's growing, and fast, and that there's a part of me that misses my tiny baby boy. Of course, a much larger part of me is psyched about his development and health and progress, but still - while infanthood is much tougher, it's such a special, sweet time.
He's a definite boy. He favors loud noises (particularly the ones he produces himself, usually by banging various objects together, or on the floor, or on his table); he giggles at fake sneezes; he attempts to get to electric cords and stick his hands under the rocking chair. Yay... Sigh. I can see "Ma, see how far I can pee!" and spitting contests in the near future...
He's getting bigger and stronger very fast. Still not sitting fully independently, but doesn't seem that it's far off. The Crawl has been very entertaining - he's really a pro at it now. A couple of flip-flops back to front to back, and a toe push-off, and hands to knees coordination, and he's already across the room. Big Jack...
He's a definite boy. He favors loud noises (particularly the ones he produces himself, usually by banging various objects together, or on the floor, or on his table); he giggles at fake sneezes; he attempts to get to electric cords and stick his hands under the rocking chair. Yay... Sigh. I can see "Ma, see how far I can pee!" and spitting contests in the near future...
He's getting bigger and stronger very fast. Still not sitting fully independently, but doesn't seem that it's far off. The Crawl has been very entertaining - he's really a pro at it now. A couple of flip-flops back to front to back, and a toe push-off, and hands to knees coordination, and he's already across the room. Big Jack...
Booty?
Maya: "Mama! I fly up in the sky - I will be Buzz. And you will be Boody."
That's right. Boody. Not Woody.
She's awesome.
That's right. Boody. Not Woody.
She's awesome.
May 11, 2011
Bam!
Poor Fairy... not only did she pick up a slight cold yesterday, she also smacked her face on the edge of the dining table while fooling around on her foot stool, and had her left eye swell up all nice and fat. She looks like a self-induced pirate, albeit a charming one.
However! In the process, she learned to spray her own nose with saline (and has done this about seventeen times), as well as allowed me to ice-compress her goose egg. She really is the sweetest kid - with trauma issues.
However! In the process, she learned to spray her own nose with saline (and has done this about seventeen times), as well as allowed me to ice-compress her goose egg. She really is the sweetest kid - with trauma issues.
May 08, 2011
Here, lizard, lizard
Things from motherhood that continue to make me crazy-laugh: Maya, watching me use the bathroom right after her: "Mama! You went to the potty! Good job. Now," in the tone of an experienced proctologist and reaching for the toilet paper roll, "let me wipe you." ... Wow. I had to decline, politely.
Yesterday, coming home with Jack from Kroger (Allan and Maya gone to PawPaw's), I found all shoes off the shoe shelf near the front door. Complete chaos. At first I thought maybe Maya did that before leaving, but then realized I didn't see it earlier in the day. Since I left the back door open while we were briefly gone, I figured *something* got in the house and cats made the chase of it. But neither cat was lying in wait nearby, so I figured whatever it was, they got it, and hoped to not find yet another killed hummingbird near the fireplace. Nothing surfaced in obvious places by the time I went to bed.
Tonight, after washing several large things, including Jack's floor quilt, I was loading the dryer. As I shook out the quilt, a large, dead, limp, wet, tail-less lizard fell on my foot.
Only unending, incredible love for my sleeping children prevented a murderous scream born in grossed-out shock that bubbled up in my throat. Kids, if this doesn't tell you I love you, I don't know what ever will.
Yesterday, coming home with Jack from Kroger (Allan and Maya gone to PawPaw's), I found all shoes off the shoe shelf near the front door. Complete chaos. At first I thought maybe Maya did that before leaving, but then realized I didn't see it earlier in the day. Since I left the back door open while we were briefly gone, I figured *something* got in the house and cats made the chase of it. But neither cat was lying in wait nearby, so I figured whatever it was, they got it, and hoped to not find yet another killed hummingbird near the fireplace. Nothing surfaced in obvious places by the time I went to bed.
Tonight, after washing several large things, including Jack's floor quilt, I was loading the dryer. As I shook out the quilt, a large, dead, limp, wet, tail-less lizard fell on my foot.
Only unending, incredible love for my sleeping children prevented a murderous scream born in grossed-out shock that bubbled up in my throat. Kids, if this doesn't tell you I love you, I don't know what ever will.
Mother's Days
(Plural intentional!)
Although if this day was acknowledged, it would really be special, somewhere deep down I know I've got 365 Mother's Days each year, from now on. While there is an abundance of life's stresses and frustrations, every day there are moments that are their own testament to love for Dear Ol' Mom.
The way Jack fusses when I leave the room. Not because of anything tangible, but because I'm not there. I come back, and his world is normal again.
The way Maya hugs my legs, or holds on tight, or tells me Sweet Dreams and Good Nights, or gently bites my nose in a game we play.
The way Jack laughs out loud at tickles and 'sneezes'. The way he can fall asleep on my shoulder when he's overstimulated and is having a hard time settling down.
The way Maya wants me to hold her hand when walking to daycare
Although if this day was acknowledged, it would really be special, somewhere deep down I know I've got 365 Mother's Days each year, from now on. While there is an abundance of life's stresses and frustrations, every day there are moments that are their own testament to love for Dear Ol' Mom.
The way Jack fusses when I leave the room. Not because of anything tangible, but because I'm not there. I come back, and his world is normal again.
The way Maya hugs my legs, or holds on tight, or tells me Sweet Dreams and Good Nights, or gently bites my nose in a game we play.
The way Jack laughs out loud at tickles and 'sneezes'. The way he can fall asleep on my shoulder when he's overstimulated and is having a hard time settling down.
The way Maya wants me to hold her hand when walking to daycare
May 04, 2011
Small daily details
I'm savoring Maya's current Mom Craze phase. She's loving, kissy, huggy. She's just being unbearably sweet and I want it to last and last and last, although I really should know better. But for now, I'm just loving it.
Going to bed is its own ritual, with new cute twists and turns daily. Consider:
Me: "Alright baby, good night." Lights off.
Maya: "Mama. Go take a nap, and wash your hands, and go to potty, and I'll scratch, and say Amens." All in a tone of a total list-maker, or an elementary-grade teacher. The order of things to do is a separate crack-up reason.
In the morning, after getting out of bed and slowly coming out of sleep: "... Mama! I woke UP!" With enthusiasm - slash - joy which, in an adult, I would call a good fake.
Jack (in other news) is laughing. On purpose. When I imitate sneezing. Especially at the long 'ah-ah-ah... ' part preceeding the actual imitated sneeze. He looks on with this sly look of knowing we're having fun, and that's ... awesome. My little man is coming into his own. He'll be an amazing little boy to get to know more once he starts getting around and attempting to verbalize stuff. But this look of "I'm onto you" warms my heart. It lets me feel like I get him, and he gets me. Just a great feeling.
Going to bed is its own ritual, with new cute twists and turns daily. Consider:
Me: "Alright baby, good night." Lights off.
Maya: "Mama. Go take a nap, and wash your hands, and go to potty, and I'll scratch, and say Amens." All in a tone of a total list-maker, or an elementary-grade teacher. The order of things to do is a separate crack-up reason.
In the morning, after getting out of bed and slowly coming out of sleep: "... Mama! I woke UP!" With enthusiasm - slash - joy which, in an adult, I would call a good fake.
Jack (in other news) is laughing. On purpose. When I imitate sneezing. Especially at the long 'ah-ah-ah... ' part preceeding the actual imitated sneeze. He looks on with this sly look of knowing we're having fun, and that's ... awesome. My little man is coming into his own. He'll be an amazing little boy to get to know more once he starts getting around and attempting to verbalize stuff. But this look of "I'm onto you" warms my heart. It lets me feel like I get him, and he gets me. Just a great feeling.
April 25, 2011
All the hearts...
Sometimes the pettiness of my daily stresses is just astounding.
Then I read blog that leads to link that leads to blog that leads to link... So many sick kids. So many major health issues in such tiny, precious bodies. So many families rocked to the core and shaken forever by a loss of those chummy fingers, plump cheeks, feathery hair, fanned eyelashes... raised scars, numerous monitors .
The degree to which I'm able to be utterly ungrateful for my own life and its unending blessings on a daily basis is absolutely stunning. :(
Then I read blog that leads to link that leads to blog that leads to link... So many sick kids. So many major health issues in such tiny, precious bodies. So many families rocked to the core and shaken forever by a loss of those chummy fingers, plump cheeks, feathery hair, fanned eyelashes... raised scars, numerous monitors .
The degree to which I'm able to be utterly ungrateful for my own life and its unending blessings on a daily basis is absolutely stunning. :(
April 23, 2011
Rest, assured
Our new bed is here (well... frame + box spring + MATTRESS).
Do you know what this means?
This means OUR NEW BED IS HERE!
Coincidentally it also means I don't spend extra energy at night trying not to roll into a center of a large broken bed that sounds like a shrieking off-key violin every time one of us takes a breath.
Oh glory.
Do you know what this means?
This means OUR NEW BED IS HERE!
Coincidentally it also means I don't spend extra energy at night trying not to roll into a center of a large broken bed that sounds like a shrieking off-key violin every time one of us takes a breath.
Oh glory.
Wonder Pets
There are moments in time that just crack me up because they're so beautifully unscripted.
Allan is disassembling our old (horribly broken) bed, in order for the Sears delivery guys to set up our new one. Maya is circling the action. I hear random pieces of that conversation, including one of Allan letting her help him carry old wood planks into the garage.
They walk past our (Jack's) room and I hear Maya singing (while holding an end to a long wood plank that Allan is moving): "What's gonna work?! Te-e-e-amwork! What's gonna work?! Te-e-e-amwork!"
You'll know why I cracked up again and again - if you, like us, frequent Nick Jr and are intimately familiar with Wonder Pets. :)
Allan is disassembling our old (horribly broken) bed, in order for the Sears delivery guys to set up our new one. Maya is circling the action. I hear random pieces of that conversation, including one of Allan letting her help him carry old wood planks into the garage.
They walk past our (Jack's) room and I hear Maya singing (while holding an end to a long wood plank that Allan is moving): "What's gonna work?! Te-e-e-amwork! What's gonna work?! Te-e-e-amwork!"
You'll know why I cracked up again and again - if you, like us, frequent Nick Jr and are intimately familiar with Wonder Pets. :)
"I come in peace!"
Interrupting regular programming (aka cleaning a VERY dirty kitchen) to record the soundtrack of my Saturday afternoon. Maya is parked next to Jack's Jumperoo with her ginormous Buzz doll she got for *learning to potty* (! separate post here), pushing all of his buttons (literally). Jack's in awe, half-hanging-out of his jump seat, taking it all in.
Where There Is Danger, There Is The Space Ranger!
PS: for reasons not entirely clear to me, Fairy Child just rushed me with a huge smile and a larger-than-life hug: "MAMA-A-A-A!"
Cool, shining moments in a day that has all the promise of being sad (Grandma left this morning).
Where There Is Danger, There Is The Space Ranger!
PS: for reasons not entirely clear to me, Fairy Child just rushed me with a huge smile and a larger-than-life hug: "MAMA-A-A-A!"
Cool, shining moments in a day that has all the promise of being sad (Grandma left this morning).
April 14, 2011
She likes pink... just not this kind!
My poor butterfly. This week kicked off with a majestic case of pink-eye for her, enough to have to reschedule the photo session (of course, that was the least of her troubles). 3x-day drops and the antibiotic seem to be doing their job and the eyes are recovering OK, but her skin is still rough - patchy, scratched, red, rashy. She's back on Allegra, and this time we're faithful about keeping up with it.
Sister, brother-in-law and my grandma (!) are here, and it's been so utterly great to have them... so much help with entertaining the kids. It's been great to leave Maya home; come back from work to hear about their fun stuff for the day, eat dinner all together... discover another thirty toys that were bought for Maya that day. I think I'm putting out the shiny Yard Sale Here - New Toys!!! sign as soon as visiting spoilers are gone and (about the same time) I realize I can't see my floors anymore.
Sister, brother-in-law and my grandma (!) are here, and it's been so utterly great to have them... so much help with entertaining the kids. It's been great to leave Maya home; come back from work to hear about their fun stuff for the day, eat dinner all together... discover another thirty toys that were bought for Maya that day. I think I'm putting out the shiny Yard Sale Here - New Toys!!! sign as soon as visiting spoilers are gone and (about the same time) I realize I can't see my floors anymore.
Theory of rel-eat-ivity
Me: "Goodness, you wouldn't believe how much the boy ate tonight."
Allan: "You're going to notice the difference between how much he eats, and how much Maya does. Boys eat much more."
Me: [pause] "...He eats more than her NOW!"
Allan: "You're going to notice the difference between how much he eats, and how much Maya does. Boys eat much more."
Me: [pause] "...He eats more than her NOW!"
April 06, 2011
Grim and grumpy
Rough couple of days on this end. Jack's sick with what started out as another allergy-sufferer case, but now has shown his preference for running mild fever with it, and flaunting a nasty little cough that serves also to ensure he's up at least every hour and a half at night.
This cup, here, flows over. ... Though apparently not enough for me to abandon attempts to document my lack of time/energy/mental capacity/patience, and instead get few precious minutes of sleep. I'm a grumpy hypocrite.
My unspoken, but heart-felt (in a literal sense) prayer is simply that tomorrow's easier, and that Jack feels better.
"Small was feeling grim and grumpy. 'Good grief,"'said Large. 'What is the matter?' 'I'm grim and grumpy,' said little Small, "and I don't think that you love me at all.' 'Oh, Small,' said Large, 'grumpy or not, I'll always love you - no matter what.'"
This cup, here, flows over. ... Though apparently not enough for me to abandon attempts to document my lack of time/energy/mental capacity/patience, and instead get few precious minutes of sleep. I'm a grumpy hypocrite.
My unspoken, but heart-felt (in a literal sense) prayer is simply that tomorrow's easier, and that Jack feels better.
"Small was feeling grim and grumpy. 'Good grief,"'said Large. 'What is the matter?' 'I'm grim and grumpy,' said little Small, "and I don't think that you love me at all.' 'Oh, Small,' said Large, 'grumpy or not, I'll always love you - no matter what.'"
With him on the changing table, Jack and I discussed the relative merits of his ability to 1) either focus on letter 'D' or 2) comprehensively address his father as DaDa. He handsomely won the argument by peeing on me - really, who can argue with that?
In other news, I continue to be underwhelmed by Maya's allergy medications... while her eyes are at least visible now, her poor skin is still rashy, patchy and dry. My favorite pediatrician advice so far has to do with eye drops, and it goes something like this: "Give her eye drops." ... Really? It's like giving eye drops to an ant - the degree of difficulty is rather similar.
In other news, I continue to be underwhelmed by Maya's allergy medications... while her eyes are at least visible now, her poor skin is still rashy, patchy and dry. My favorite pediatrician advice so far has to do with eye drops, and it goes something like this: "Give her eye drops." ... Really? It's like giving eye drops to an ant - the degree of difficulty is rather similar.
April 03, 2011
Shrinking Sunday afternoons
Rearranged Jack's nursery today in preparation for family's arrival and imminent need for sleeping space (current thought is that great-Gramma will sleep in Jack's room), and liked it much better. Some feng shui happened, there.
Amidst a decently challenging day with kids (Allan gone attempting to recharge with chess tournament, us home), managed to wash all of his various mats, floor blankets, quilts, and other large articles of cloth he uses to separate himself from the floor. I was particularly grateful for warm and hugely breezy (ahem... understatement) afternoon that had those dry in about seven minutes.
I should probably take a picture of Jack's room tomorrow for it'll be a while before it's this clean again. Heck, just this morning I removed an entire length of a railroad track from there (engine and three railcars included, plus, I believe, random greenery and a station tower). Gifts of the Magi, those are.
Amidst a decently challenging day with kids (Allan gone attempting to recharge with chess tournament, us home), managed to wash all of his various mats, floor blankets, quilts, and other large articles of cloth he uses to separate himself from the floor. I was particularly grateful for warm and hugely breezy (ahem... understatement) afternoon that had those dry in about seven minutes.
I should probably take a picture of Jack's room tomorrow for it'll be a while before it's this clean again. Heck, just this morning I removed an entire length of a railroad track from there (engine and three railcars included, plus, I believe, random greenery and a station tower). Gifts of the Magi, those are.
April 01, 2011
Good night, noises everywhere...
"Good night, Maya."
"Mama. Go to bed, OK? And go to potty."
"Umm... OK."
"Mama. Go to bed, OK? And go to potty."
"Umm... OK."
March 31, 2011
Pfffbst
Laying down with Jack on his Magic Floor Gym - I put my head down on the mat right next to him in a caring gesture. And he cared right back. By blowing the biggest raspberry of the day straight into my face.
My sweet boy. He knew I was secretly contemplating a shower.
My sweet boy. He knew I was secretly contemplating a shower.
March 30, 2011
Throne of Eats
Jack-O's first day in the high chair! He's a natural. We'll omit the fact that it's likely due to the fact that the tray table adjusts really close to his belly and essentially allows Jack to just "hang" out.
Just like that, baby boy is sharing the big table. His breakfast was further brightened by the fact that he was occupied watching Maya eat. Oh, the two of them. We still do the "Mama, I want to sit in the [nursery] chair with JACK!" routine almost daily. I'll never tire of praising her for her great sistership... sisterhood? :) She really is quite fond of him, which warms my heart like a bright lava lamp bubble.
Just like that, baby boy is sharing the big table. His breakfast was further brightened by the fact that he was occupied watching Maya eat. Oh, the two of them. We still do the "Mama, I want to sit in the [nursery] chair with JACK!" routine almost daily. I'll never tire of praising her for her great sistership... sisterhood? :) She really is quite fond of him, which warms my heart like a bright lava lamp bubble.
March 28, 2011
Green eggs and ham
Tonight, Maya and I decided to keep it simple and have an omelet for dinner. I'm an enthusiastic believer in letting kids cook with me, so Maya was assigned the all-too-important Mixer role. First, she took on stirring together shredded zucchini and leftover rice. Her version of doing that consisted mostly of eating cold rice, but who's judging?
But the eggs... this child loves to crack her some eggs. She's THE ultimate Sam-I-Am. Tonight, I handed over four eggs, a bowl and a spoon and decided (against my control-freak nature) not to intervene.
The first egg was gently tapped with a spoon - then she gently tried to pry it open with her hands - and it suddenly (the way only eggs can) went KAPLOOEY into the bowl. She dropped the shells there, too, from the foodie shock of it all, which I fished out piece by piece.
BUT! Eggs #2, 3 and 4 were cracked; opened; and she held on to the shells! Such progress within five minutes. To further congratulate herself, she added her own doze of shredded Parmesan to the eggs and gave the whole thing a good mixin'.
Now I just wish I was a tad smarter/quicker and would have taken pictures. Did I mention she *ate* the eggs, zucchini and all? My child with allergy to anything 'green'? Yeah.
But the eggs... this child loves to crack her some eggs. She's THE ultimate Sam-I-Am. Tonight, I handed over four eggs, a bowl and a spoon and decided (against my control-freak nature) not to intervene.
The first egg was gently tapped with a spoon - then she gently tried to pry it open with her hands - and it suddenly (the way only eggs can) went KAPLOOEY into the bowl. She dropped the shells there, too, from the foodie shock of it all, which I fished out piece by piece.
BUT! Eggs #2, 3 and 4 were cracked; opened; and she held on to the shells! Such progress within five minutes. To further congratulate herself, she added her own doze of shredded Parmesan to the eggs and gave the whole thing a good mixin'.
Now I just wish I was a tad smarter/quicker and would have taken pictures. Did I mention she *ate* the eggs, zucchini and all? My child with allergy to anything 'green'? Yeah.
March 27, 2011
Favorite books
Eloise Wilkin's Poems to Read to the Very Young
This is probably by far one of my favorite books I bought for (then) Maya, and read almost every night to Jack now. Just wondrous.
It contains, among many great others, no small number of poems by Robert Louis Stevenson, and now I want his "A Child's Garden of Verses," compilation of poems he wrote for his children, apparently in print since late 19th century. Beautiful, simple and nostalgic, with deft respect for the world of the little ones.
March 26, 2011
Post-absentia
I spend more time editing this blog than writing here. It's a little-known fact that really, the pretty fonts is what life is all about.
Jack celebrated his 7-month milestone by finally pushing out his first tooth. We've glimpsed The Tooth a few days back, when it was still being coy and hiding behind a translucent layer of gum... But today, it is out to bite. Jack has surprisingly weathered this strange arrival in his mouth well, only resorting to occasional series of concerned ... 'moo's, for lack of a better word. Plus he wishes to gnaw on my knuckles relentlessly, and appears grudgingly satisfied by a soft rubber teether.
In retrospect, The Tooth would explain Jack's unusual temperance in appetite today. Only a matter of time, I suppose, until Jack learns the advantages of The Tooth and its followers along the gum line, and puts them to good use.
Maya has been the unfortunate victim of Mid-South spring in all its glory. Seemingly overnight, my Fairy has bloomed with watery, puffy eyes, random mysterious rashes, and affected skin. So far Allegra has been steadily making its way onto my S-list for near-total lack of effectiveness, so Benadryl was also dragged out of the recesses of medicine cabinet. With pollen counts through the stratosphere, however, general opinion is that none of the medicines on the market will completely take care of all symptoms... I believe I've just gained yet another reason to enjoy leaving this part of the country, whenever our time comes.
Jack's progress with solid food has been stellar. He enjoys eating, well, everything, and tolerates all new food introductions well (YoBaby organic yogurts being the latest). I need to remember to replenish my supply of BioGaia drops, however, to help his tiny tummy keep digesting all the delicacies.
As for the brother-sister interaction... I've had my Favorite Moment of the Week last weekend (when the weather was still, sigh, awesomely warm) while hanging out on the back deck. Maya, previously busy fortifying her playhouse with outdoor pillows from deck chairs, noticed that Jack was mouthing her sippy cup with water. Indignant, she rolled down the slide and marched over to (gently yet firmly) restore the rightful ownership of said sippy cup... I didn't stop her because she wasn't harsh, and because Jack frankly could care less - he's that much in awe with his sister, thus in his eyes she does no wrong (for now). However, Maya, watching Jack's face, suddenly turned around, walked back into the house, found the box of Jack's toys (different from hers), picked out a couple he frequents, and brought them back out. Here, she said. You can play with these.
So proud.
January 20, 2011
Three
My dearest girl:I had the best intentions to write this on your actual birthday two days ago, but you'll find out all about best intentions and where they lead - and all too soon... So I'm a little late, but not at all any less blessed, looking over the last three years that you've been with us.
You were born two weeks past your intended due date (probably because you thought combining your birthday with the rest of noisy winter holidays was low on your list of wishes) - and even then you had to be convinced to join us. You're no less spirited now than you were then.
You're a beautiful, sensitive, kind girl. This year, among the things I'm most grateful for, for you, are your health, and the way we can now talk. I can TALK to you. WITH you. I can hear you tell me about your day; or tell me you don't feel good; or, as in that one random incident when I checked in on you in the middle of the night, you can whisper in the dark in your tiny raspy voice: "I love you, Mama."
You have acquired a brother. I'm very thankful for your goodness with Jack. True, you've had to grow through some resentment toward us for all the attention we had to give to Jack - and some that took away from you. But even at three years of age, you're not unreasonable. You're still sweet and gentle with him, and you've let go of the worst of your temper once we figured out that all you needed were a few extra minutes of our time each day, and words of love and praise (forgive us - we tend to be REALLY slow at times, with catching on!).
You're an agile, active spirit - I'm convinced that left to yourself, you'll dine and sleep under the stars outside. Well, maybe not in the middle of this winter - but at any time the weather is warm. I'm so glad we brought in the new playset for you in the back yard - I can't WAIT to see you spend hours playing outside when spring returns.
You've learned to count and to sing your ABC's. You've watched your first long movie (Monsters vs. Aliens) and you can discuss relative merits of both.
I have begun a stash of your artwork - the kind you'll never understand why I kept. That's alright. One day you'll start a stash for your own kids.
You've weathered Jack's time at the hospital, and the huge change his birth and surgery brought into our family. I still remember coming home at various time of day from Le Bonheur, only to be greeted with your tiny, excited 'Mama!!!' - and there you were, twirling around the room, restless to show off anything you've done that day, wanting to share so much, wanting to spend time together. You have no idea how your love helped carry me through.
You've enjoyed your holidays this year... you're learning the perks of everything from Halloween and Christmas to birthday celebrations, and it makes all of them more meaningful, to relive them through your eyes.
You're still growing like a weed - a slender, curly weed. My favorite dandilion. I've loved watching you and Daddy continue to be best buds... trust that if there ever lived a Daddy's Girl, you're it.
Now you're three. I would try to make out all my hopes and dreams for you - but more than anything, I'm fully certain that your growth and progress are under God's control. How safe it is to know that... I do my best to be your Mama, but I have, and I will, fail you. I will be too harsh or too soft - or I won't be there when you need it. I will midjudge you. I will fall short of your expectations. That's a fact. But I am sure of this - with God's guidance, I pray to be the best mother I can - and pray that He is and will be your God to make up for all of my inadequacy.
Keep smiling, Sweet Pea. Happy Birthday.
January 17, 2011
Picasso days
Allan:
"Drawing with Maya is challenging. I have no creative freedom! Overwhelming artistic direction..."
"Drawing with Maya is challenging. I have no creative freedom! Overwhelming artistic direction..."
January 16, 2011
Winter parenting
I don't know how real 'SAD' is. That's as in Seasonal Affective Disorder, which simply means one reacts very poorly to change in seasons, particularly to short, crummy days of winter. But I know winter makes me plain... sad at times.
I'm sure I have to own up to the fact that I don't make things better by choosing to eat junk and by wallowing in stressed-out thoughts instead of releasing at least some mental tension in the 'Let go and let God' kind of way.
This winter hasn't been terrible. At least I certainly believe last one just about had the best of me, and being then in my first trimester with Jack just made it worse. But this winter has its own twists.
Maybe it's not winter, however. Maybe life with two small children is simply ten times more challenging than with one, no matter what the weather is. My biggest challenge right now is a complete lack of time to, well, complete anything. I fall further and further behind on simple basics like keeping the house clean and paying bills on time, which snowballs into major internal crises. I feel unorganized, overwhelmed.
Not inadequate, however. I know if I had double the amount of hours in a day, and quadruple the amount of energy, I'd do it all and be caught up in no time. But those circumstances aren't going to pass any time soon, so without a way to seriously boost up resources, I grow frustrated at things left undone by necessity.
So I try to prioritize. Kids first. Food, hygiene, laundry, rooms clean (if not uncluttered), sleeping hours observed, noses wiped, doctors' appointments honored. I feel fine about taking care of them. But that by itself consumes most of the time I have outside of work. Plus I always, always wish to spend more time with them - just time playing or talking or hugging it out, not just orbiting them while having to do something else...
Work. Going back has been tough, and not because I don't like what I do, or because I would prefer not to work at all. Complications are in the commute that eats up to three hours a day (if daycare detour is involved) and how intense work was straight out of the gates. Intensity may subside on and off, but travel and getting-ready time doesn't...
Household. Groceries, cooking, keeping at least some areas in acceptable daily shape. Mostly kitchen and living area. Cats' stuff out of necessity because I wouldn't have time to clean up if they rebelled over dirty litter box and went elsewhere. Food because they'd make too much noise over that. I sound like a perfect animal owner, don't I? Don't tell PETA.
Anything that has to do with my own slice of life and things I need to do (hello, green card application!!) - by the wayside. Not in a drama kind of way. It's just a fact. I'm almost used to all of that, totally at the bottom of any totem pole - but the immigration stuff and not having yet done it stirs up the firestorm in me... I'm literally risking my job if this isn't done in a few days. Plus I have to arange for last year's taxes... this year's refund will take care of that, but if IRS doesn't know that, they're quite fond of sneaky maneuvers like wage garnishment - the last thing in the world I would need this winter/spring.
I feel like in a way I'm living out a soft lie... a $100K+ young professional on the surface, with a white-trash situation at the house (our Christmas lights are still on...), not enough well-fitting clothes to last me a week in the office (pregnancy pounds), floor covered in two months' worth of dust and debri, and dining room stuffed to the rafters with unopened bills and mail.
I'm feeling pretty low at the moment. I'm making it - but barely, and only in essentials. I don't have high expectations! But even with low ones, the current state of affairs is very depressing to me.
With Allan sick most of the last month, our marital bliss has been anything but. It's very tense very often, and it's definitely affecting at least Maya, throwing yet another stone into my pond of pessimistic life outlook.
I can feel myself coming up for short breaths amidst all of this, when a certain song on K-LOVE hits the spot, but it doesn't take much for me to sink straight back down - feeling slighted, overlooked, underappreciated, and simply overrun.
I keep writing, hoping toward the end of the post I would have conjured up a solution, would have realized something profound that moves me forward with renewed energy, and none of that is happening. I can't even feel or see God for these trees, not very often.
Jack's total adoration when we do get a couple of minutes together is the one thing that is most powerful to reset this failing mechanism of mine. His total, absolute lack of concern for all my concerns, but in a good, innocent way, restores me while I just look at him and realize the power and miracle of holding him, hearing him.
I really am surprised that my body has not yet failed me in a sudden, traumatic way with what I feel is a supremely weak immune system this winter. Maybe it's simply the fact that if I go down, there's no more recourse, and thus the flesh keeps powering through. Thank God.
I used to feel slightly better by telling, reminding myself that all this is temporary. Felt like knowing that should keep up my hope. But I have not had a good day, in some fairly ordinary definition of 'good', in what feels like a long time. And my resistance is starting to fray at the edges.
So now I'll just keep hoping that all of this is simply ... winter. That with the first warm day, things will miraculously clean themselves, file themselves, pay themselves, pick up themselves, heal themselves... and I'll have an unbroken night of sleep, while I'm at it.
Kiddos - since I started this as a parenting blog - I still love you more than life. I just have a presently strained relationship with just about everyone else.
I'm sure I have to own up to the fact that I don't make things better by choosing to eat junk and by wallowing in stressed-out thoughts instead of releasing at least some mental tension in the 'Let go and let God' kind of way.
This winter hasn't been terrible. At least I certainly believe last one just about had the best of me, and being then in my first trimester with Jack just made it worse. But this winter has its own twists.
Maybe it's not winter, however. Maybe life with two small children is simply ten times more challenging than with one, no matter what the weather is. My biggest challenge right now is a complete lack of time to, well, complete anything. I fall further and further behind on simple basics like keeping the house clean and paying bills on time, which snowballs into major internal crises. I feel unorganized, overwhelmed.
Not inadequate, however. I know if I had double the amount of hours in a day, and quadruple the amount of energy, I'd do it all and be caught up in no time. But those circumstances aren't going to pass any time soon, so without a way to seriously boost up resources, I grow frustrated at things left undone by necessity.
So I try to prioritize. Kids first. Food, hygiene, laundry, rooms clean (if not uncluttered), sleeping hours observed, noses wiped, doctors' appointments honored. I feel fine about taking care of them. But that by itself consumes most of the time I have outside of work. Plus I always, always wish to spend more time with them - just time playing or talking or hugging it out, not just orbiting them while having to do something else...
Work. Going back has been tough, and not because I don't like what I do, or because I would prefer not to work at all. Complications are in the commute that eats up to three hours a day (if daycare detour is involved) and how intense work was straight out of the gates. Intensity may subside on and off, but travel and getting-ready time doesn't...
Household. Groceries, cooking, keeping at least some areas in acceptable daily shape. Mostly kitchen and living area. Cats' stuff out of necessity because I wouldn't have time to clean up if they rebelled over dirty litter box and went elsewhere. Food because they'd make too much noise over that. I sound like a perfect animal owner, don't I? Don't tell PETA.
Anything that has to do with my own slice of life and things I need to do (hello, green card application!!) - by the wayside. Not in a drama kind of way. It's just a fact. I'm almost used to all of that, totally at the bottom of any totem pole - but the immigration stuff and not having yet done it stirs up the firestorm in me... I'm literally risking my job if this isn't done in a few days. Plus I have to arange for last year's taxes... this year's refund will take care of that, but if IRS doesn't know that, they're quite fond of sneaky maneuvers like wage garnishment - the last thing in the world I would need this winter/spring.
I feel like in a way I'm living out a soft lie... a $100K+ young professional on the surface, with a white-trash situation at the house (our Christmas lights are still on...), not enough well-fitting clothes to last me a week in the office (pregnancy pounds), floor covered in two months' worth of dust and debri, and dining room stuffed to the rafters with unopened bills and mail.
I'm feeling pretty low at the moment. I'm making it - but barely, and only in essentials. I don't have high expectations! But even with low ones, the current state of affairs is very depressing to me.
With Allan sick most of the last month, our marital bliss has been anything but. It's very tense very often, and it's definitely affecting at least Maya, throwing yet another stone into my pond of pessimistic life outlook.
I can feel myself coming up for short breaths amidst all of this, when a certain song on K-LOVE hits the spot, but it doesn't take much for me to sink straight back down - feeling slighted, overlooked, underappreciated, and simply overrun.
I keep writing, hoping toward the end of the post I would have conjured up a solution, would have realized something profound that moves me forward with renewed energy, and none of that is happening. I can't even feel or see God for these trees, not very often.
Jack's total adoration when we do get a couple of minutes together is the one thing that is most powerful to reset this failing mechanism of mine. His total, absolute lack of concern for all my concerns, but in a good, innocent way, restores me while I just look at him and realize the power and miracle of holding him, hearing him.
I really am surprised that my body has not yet failed me in a sudden, traumatic way with what I feel is a supremely weak immune system this winter. Maybe it's simply the fact that if I go down, there's no more recourse, and thus the flesh keeps powering through. Thank God.
I used to feel slightly better by telling, reminding myself that all this is temporary. Felt like knowing that should keep up my hope. But I have not had a good day, in some fairly ordinary definition of 'good', in what feels like a long time. And my resistance is starting to fray at the edges.
So now I'll just keep hoping that all of this is simply ... winter. That with the first warm day, things will miraculously clean themselves, file themselves, pay themselves, pick up themselves, heal themselves... and I'll have an unbroken night of sleep, while I'm at it.
Kiddos - since I started this as a parenting blog - I still love you more than life. I just have a presently strained relationship with just about everyone else.
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