Testing, Testing, 1, 2, 3…

For the past year, any of my friends with kids older than mine have had a word of warning about three-year-olds: “Terrible twos? Three is definitely a harder age than two.” I believed them but secretly hoped that they were wrong about my daughter. In some ways, three is way better than two. The other night as I made dinner, Emma very sweetly single-handedly taught her baby sister to give high fives. I don’t think she would have had the patience to do that a few months ago. Recently, she’s started to put on her own shoes…that takes at least thirty valuable seconds off of our current ninety-minute routine to get out of the house. I’m all for that kind of progress. However, the more time I spend with my three-year-old and talk to other moms of three-year-olds, the more I realize that three is the age of testing. My Emma is testing boundaries, testing what happens when she cries for an hour over something that seems small to me, testing how many decisions she gets to make in our family and how many will be made for her. There are certainly days when I feel like we are on an emotional roller coaster, complete with the thrilling highs (new discoveries like how to climb in her own car seat and ultra-sweet moments like running open-armed to give us warm hugs) and the stomach-dropping lows (fits over not wanting to leave her car seat for the house or sadness over not wanting to share her toys.) For the most part, she is a thoughtful, obedient little girl, but like any child, she wants to know where the boundaries are and how firmly they will stand. For her, this is a year of exploration and growth. For me, it can be pretty exhausting. As she is questioning, I am questioning myself and my parenting decisions. I stay calm and wonder if I’m being firm enough. I get sterner and wonder if she still feels unconditionally loved. This parenting thing is a whole lot easier as a Monday morning quarterback. I knew what to do before I had my own three-year-old: stay calm but firm, consistent yet loving, give choices but let them know you’re ultimately in charge. There are days I feel like all is well, and then there are hours I hope and pray that my mistakes as a parent can just be overshadowed by positive memories and all-encompassing love. I know that I must follow through on what I say, give her opportunities to make her own mistakes and learn from them, and discipline from a calm and loving place. I also know that like any phase, this, too, shall pass, and I’d rather she learns some boundaries now than when she’s bigger and wrong decisions are more costly. When I think of it like that, I am grateful to have this year to help her learn how the world works before I have to send her out without a guide. I am definitely in no hurry to wish away this year or any other of her childhood. I want to enjoy every stage. Nevertheless, I keep hearing about the magical age of four, and I have to say that I’m looking forward to the fruits of what I hope is consistent discipline. The sweetness without the need to test all day would probably take at least another ten minutes off of our morning routine. Snooze button on my alarm, you may be just eleven months away.

Sweet Little Somethings

Some of Lily’s Tricks This Week:

• She army crawls with a speed and strength that is quite impressive.
• She has learned how to get up on her knees in her crib. She moves to the end near her door and lets me know that she’s ready to get up.
• Whenever she hears the phrase, “Good job,” she erupts into applause. We took the girls to a bubble show at a museum, and everyone was clapping. She looked around and knew she had found her crowd…they all knew her trick! She joined right in.
• On Saturday, she started waving “hi,” “goodbye,” and “goodnight.” She smiles proudly while she does it.
• Today, she began signing for the first time. She signed “more” when she wanted more food, more time on Emma’s rocking horse, and more peek-a-boo from Daddy. She seemed to enjoy her newfound ability to communicate her desires with us.

Some of Emma’s Sweet Sayings This Week:

• Lily’s been wriggling out of my arms lately, wanting to be on the go. The other day, I called her “my squirmy little monkey,” and Emma thought it was really fun. Now, I hear her regularly saying to her sister in a sweet, affectionate little voice, “Come here, squirmy little monkey.”
• When Emma got up the other morning, we both heard Lily waking up. Lily was crying and then she stopped. Emma said, “She’s falling asleep.” Then, Lily cried out again, and Emma said, “She’s falling awake.” As Lily alternated between cries and silence, Emma continued to give a running commentary, “She’s falling asleep. She’s falling awake.”
• Yesterday, my parents were over seeing the girls. When Emma went down for a nap, I told her that she could look at books quietly if she wasn’t tired enough to sleep. Grandpa told her he was going to take a nap, too. When I went in to get her up, she said, “I read really, really quietly, Mommy, so Grandpa could sleep.”
• Tonight, as I was making Taco Pie for dinner, Emma said, “It makes me feel happy when you make that. It makes me feel very, very happy.” She makes cooking fun…such an appreciative audience!

It's amazing how sweet little nothings can turn my average day from nothing memorable to something special.

Better Than New

The past few days, I have been miserably sick with mastitis. If you don’t know what that is, I’ll spare you the details. Let me just say, though, that any illness that leaves you lying there yearning for the flu instead is not a good thing. To say the least, I was in no condition the first two days to care for my girls. It’s very humbling as a mom to realize that you can’t physically handle your children’s needs such as diaper changes, trips to the potty, etc. I made it through many months of pretty debilitating morning sickness with Lily and still managed to take care of Emma. I had a stomach virus complete with fever and repeatedly losing my lunch when I was seven-months pregnant with Lily. I had mono as a third year teacher. This was so much worse, complicated by a high fever that wasn’t responding to Tylenol and an allergic reaction that was my body’s way of responding to the antibiotic. Thankfully, I have parents who came to help Sunday morning and a hubby who stayed home from work Monday (his first sick day to take care of the girls or me.) As I was lying in bed listening to their dad and grandparents care for our children, I was struck by something unexpected: what I do is hard work. I guess I knew this on a certain level, but listening to other people handle the highs and lows of being three and the quick frustration of a teething ten-month-old made it clear in a way that I don’t always realize when I’m in the thick of it. I also realized, though, what I would expect to reflect upon while bed-bound: how incredibly fortunate I am that I am generally in good health, getting to see almost every moment of my girls’ day, able to push them on the swings myself, getting them out of bed, seeing their firsts. So my new resolution is to find a better balance between childcare and self-care, between getting stuck in the mundane and appreciating the moments even more. I want to admit how hard it is to have two little ones and know when to give myself a guilt-free break (thankfully, I have a helpful hubby who encourages me on this one!) but relish the many moments that I do have with them. It’s easy, when you’re there all of the time, to have some days drag a bit or even creep along like the long, dark winter month of January. When you only feel well enough to see your kids for a few minutes at a time, you realize even more how amazing, fun, and absolutely lovable they are. Yesterday, when I was finally able to get out of bed, although still moving pretty slowly, Emma asked me, “Mommy, are you feeling better?” I replied, “A little better, but I’m still sick.” She said, “So you’re a little bit better, but not as good as new?” After I finished smiling at her using a phrase I didn’t know she knew (when I asked, she credited an Arthur video as teaching it to her), I thought, sick as I still am, maybe I am better than new. I have a greater appreciation for my health, my children, my support system, my own lack of invincibility. That having been said, I hope to not be that sick again for a long time, at least until there is no need for washing and changing cloth diapers, for wiping up spit up, for needing to be on safety patrol for a baby who wants to taste everything. Like a long winter makes you appreciate the gorgeous days of spring all the more, this sickness has made me see the beauty in watching my girls grow and letting myself thrive. I hope I’ve learned enough during this few days that I’ll be able to stay away from illness for quite awhile. Like any good spring, after the snow clears, there is beauty in watching life spring anew.

Giving and Getting

As mothers, we spend so much time giving of ourselves to our children. We kiss away hurts, clean messy bottoms, teach and encourage, fold piles of laundry, wash the same dishes again and again, wipe away crumbs, rock away tears. There are definitely days when I feel my exhaustion mounting in direct correlation with my “to do” list, but this reminds me of some sage advice my dad once gave me. He told me that I’d know that I was ready to get married when I was ready to stop keeping score. I think the same applies to motherhood. I was ready to become a mother when I could pour myself into another human being without checking to see how much I was getting back. The funny thing is, now that I am a mom, I realize that somehow I am still getting more than I’m giving. When our family of four shares a slow dance, when Emma ends the evening by saying, “Mommy, you are the light of my life,” when Lily gives me her adoring dimpled smile, there is no way that I could begin to fold enough laundry or read enough stories to account for the joy that I am given. So on those no nap days and in those meltdown moments, I’m going to remember that there is no need to keep score. I have already received more than I could ever give.

Baby Love

There is nothing quite like baby love, that complete trust that I get to be on the receiving end of as a mom. I can imagine few sweeter moments possible in my life as a mother than the ones when I stroke baby Lily’s hair as she folds herself into me while eating, hold her close to me as I burp her, and feel her melt into me as she slides into her sweet slumbers. When I look back upon my children’s infanthood someday, I hope that this is what I will remember, for it is a love so pure that it will help carry me through the days when they forget that I know anything. At least for now, I am Lily’s favorite person. She claps when I enter the room, holds out her arms for me when she’s in someone else’s, and sticks her thumb in her mouth the moment that I begin to hold her. I am so grateful to be someone’s complete comfort. I know that life will not always be this simple for her, that there will be things and people that will hurt her, but for now, when I cuddle her close, I am able to give her the gifts of love, comfort, acceptance, security. She, in turn, gives me the enormously rich gift of baby love in a small but very snuggly package.