Fleeting Moments

Knowing that Lily is the baby of our family makes these last few months of toddlerhood extra sweet for me. I catch myself so many times a day saying to myself or out loud, “I love that kid sooo much,” or “She is so stinkin’ cute!” There is that old sentiment that we don’t know how good we have it until it’s gone. It’s not that I haven’t been enjoying my girls. I appreciate many moments with them throughout the day, though, in the interest of full disclosure, admittedly less so the ones that include time outs, tantrums, and tears (sometimes mine.) Still, there is a sentimentality that is present lately, every time I hold Lily’s still-small hands, each time she talks to me in her not yet mature tone, in the moments when she says, “I wanna snuggle you, Mom. I love you so much, Mom,” with the heart melting, tummy flipping sweetness that the innocence of two bequeaths. So, tonight, I just want to take a moment to remember what she is like at 2 years, 8 ½ months old. We call her “Fiercy” and “Fierce One.” It began with us referring to her as "The Nut," and "Nutty," (because she's our happy little peanut), which morphed into “Nutty McPhearson,” admittedly a somewhat (okay, really) random nickname. Then, in the not-so-logical sequence of things, "Nutty McPhearson" became “Fiercy,” and “Fierce One.” These most recent monikers are not because she is anything less than sugary sweet. When her sister bumps into her or hurts her feelings, she says, “Sorry, Emma,” before Emma can even apologize. She is, however, very fierce on one level. As she proudly proclaims, “I tough, Mom. I so tough.” And she is, accidentally clocking herself on the head or wiping out hard on the tile, rubbing it as she makes her best tough girl face, and saying, “I not going to cry, Mom. I tough.” She does, of course, cry at times…when she bites her tongue or cheek at mealtime (somehow, this is her Achilles’ heel) or really gets hurt, but all in all, she’s our fierce one. We try to allow her room to cry, and she does, but for some reason, she feels she has an image to maintain. Perhaps it’s the nickname, or maybe it is the admiration of her big sister who always remarks on how Lily gets big owies and doesn’t cry. Recently, we were playing with some great friends of ours. Lily had placed a play ring on my finger as she snuggled in my lap. The other two-year-old came and borrowed the ring from me. I didn’t even think about it. Then, I looked at Lily, and she had the biggest fake grin on her face as tears rolled down her cheeks. Knowing she’s my fierce one and something must really be wrong, I said, “What’s wrong, baby?” She said, “Nofing. Nofing’s wrong, Mom. I fine,” while continuing to work hard to fake smile as the tears rolled down and she vehemently shook her head “no” to accompany her “Nofing’s wrong.” When I realized it was the ring and asked her about it, her face quivered a bit, but she maintained her stance, not wanting to let on that she was upset about a little ring. My mother’s heart melted. One thing Lily is is fiercely fun. Her absolute favorite pastime is a tie between looking at pictures and videos on my phone and playing with the incredible dollhouse Grandpa and Grandma got for Emma and her for Christmas.

 

The phone time we try to limit, though it came in very handy when she accompanied me for my hour long dental appointment last week. As for the dollhouse, we encourage it. She plays with it in almost every spare moment, talking about “the hygienist” in one dollhouse scene after she has accompanied me to the dentist, acting out Rapunzel and Flynn Ryder scenes in the next play session. It is fun to watch her imagine and enjoy.

 

Lily also looks forward to her allotted 30-minute video time each day and asks a few times a day if it is time to watch yet, though she knows she always gets her movie time after nap. She gets to choose what she watches. Her current favorite is a VCR tape that focuses on A-E-I-O-U and sometimes Y, so she goes around singing her vowels often. She is also a big fan of reading, especially snuggling up in my bed while Emma is in preschool. We read book after book, with her loving every second, and me enjoying the moments in ways that are uniquely precious when you truly sense that these little one years are coming to an end. At night, she snuggles on one side, Emma snuggles on the other, and we read from the Little House series. We are almost done with our third book, and the girls adore them. Lily likes to pick them up and say, “Laura and Mary…” “And then, Jack…” and “Ma keeps Baby Carrie safe, right, Mama?” She retells the stories so cutely. I smile every single time, I think. She is also still two, and she takes out (and often misplaces) our bookmark every time, of course before I have found our page. Sometimes, she frustrates big sis by coloring on her homework (just once, but memorable for Emma) or mistakenly using her stickers. In some ways, it is so much easier to forgive these tiny transgressions when you realize she won’t be so tiny in a few months, much less a few years. In this way, I have a perspective that is tougher for Emma to see. The girls giggle a lot together, though, and truly are best buddies, though I get to mediate disputes at times, too. They usually hug it out and move on after stating their cases and exchanging apologies. When they are on good terms, they have some silly games. They sit and shake hands. Emma says, “Nice to meet you.” Lily says, “Nice to meet you, too,” and they both dissolve into giggles. I don’t think there is a sweeter sound than hearing your children laugh together. May they always have inside jokes to share and more fun than frustration between the two of them. Both girls love to sing, and Lily has been doing a really adorable rendition of “Have you ever seen a frog, walking a dog, down by the bay?” She makes the funniest facial expressions, gestures theatrically with her hand, and proudly belts out the tune. We are treated to a dinner theater like no other when she performs. Speaking of dinner, she does have a sweet tooth and never turns down a treat when offered, but dinner is mostly about business. She implores us for more broccoli, more chickpeas, more brown rice, and generally food that many toddlers would gladly give her rather than find on their plates. We find it funny but nice and hope her healthy eating habits stick. We also call her our little carnivore, as we aren’t big meat eaters, but she absolutely loves it. One food she adamantly refuses is mushrooms, and she picks them out no matter their size or how hard we try to conceal them. Spinach? Fine. Tomatoes? Fantastic. The tiniest morsel of mushroom? Forget it. One of my favorite hours of the week is “Friday Family Fun,” and Lily excitedly says “Friday Family Fun” again and again as she anticipates whose turn it is to pick a game or a movie. If the game is “Don’t Break the Ice,” she is always, without fail, the one to break the ice, and she smiles proudly, not caring about the intent of the game, just enjoying the playing of it. If it is a movie, she snuggles next to me, then invariably ends up on my lap, with her precious head snug beneath mine, her freshly washed hair calling me to breathe deeply of her littleness. Recently, Lily had me curious, then grinning. With an earnestness that spoke of deep conviction, she said, “When I grow up and be a mama…(insert long pause here)…I going go to Peak Fitness.” During her exaggerated pause, I was so anticipating what she might have gleaned from me as a mother, and then I realized that it was my dashing off to Zumba or the treadmill or weightlifting or yoga and Pilates a couple of times a week. I guess this means that she is picking up on the importance of a healthy lifestyle?? Either that, or I need to try harder to make my mothering mark. I guess I would rather that she aspires to Peak Fitness than scrubbing toilets or dishes or bottoms. Not that these aren’t all honorable things that parents undertake. They just aren’t quite as aspirational as throwing on a pair of yoga pants, doing some fun dancing that is good for body and spirit, and coming home with a smile on my face. Lily currently has the cutest little coat with bright polka dots, matching mittens, and a hat with two huge pompoms. She calls the pompoms her “speakers.” She gets compliments wherever she goes, and I think I will always remember my little polka dotted toddler, smiling between those two “speakers,” causing strangers and friends and family to fall under her charms. Lily is my little helper (of course when the task interests her), wanting to help unpack the dishwasher, wishing to clean with a cleaning toothbrush. I smile and usually indulge as she makes more mess than progress. I do greatly look forward to the days that there is not a trail of things left on the floor behind her, but I know those days are coming, so it makes it easier to be patient. For, when the trail is gone, the footie pajamas will be, too. And I do dearly love those footie pajamas. She, like me sometimes (you should see me at Disneyland), alternates between wanting to be grown up and wishing to slip into a childlike existence. Half the time she adamantly refuses her bib and the other half she begs for it when we don’t put it on. Sometimes, she wants to use a baby spoon for her meal and is insulted if given anything else. Other times, she wants a spoon just like the rest of us. For awhile, she went on the potty consistently. Now, she rarely wants anything to do with it. She is caught between toddlerhood and the preschool years, and she is not always sure which side of the stages she wants. Yet, somehow, that’s okay, because the wonderful thing about having done this before is that I know that this, too, shall pass. With enough consequences, her behavior turns around. With enough patience mixed with firm follow through, she does what is asked after the two-year-old tantrum has passed. For this, and her sweet heart, I am grateful. Lily also knows she will not always be in this stage. She thinks of the future. Since we have some nut allergies in the family, we are waiting to expose her to nuts until she is three. We try to be considerate, but when everyone else is having nuts, she takes it in stride, saying, “I not big enough for nuts yet,” or “I can’t have almonds, Grandma,” or “I can have nuts when I’m free (three.)” She also loves to point out every bus she sees, saying “There are two city buses, Mom. There is a school bus,” as we drive in town. Then, she will say, “I going to ride a bus when I five, Mom.” Last night, my hubby was commenting on how nice it is that the girls are getting older and more independent. He has always been a huge fan of them at each stage, but he is really enjoying this one. I, too, appreciate that some of the moment to moment demands of worrying about choking hazards and midnight feedings have passed. The funny thing about being a parent, though, is that a simple statement like, “This, too, shall pass,” can fill you with relief and tears in the same moment. There is relief that we will not forever be stuck in this problem, this stage, this challenge. At the same time, there is also regret that there will no longer be this set of baby-like hands clutching your face, never the slobbery goodness of your two-year-old daughter planting the sweetest kiss, never a voice that calls your husband “Da-ee” with a mix of admiration and love that cannot be bought. So, knowing that this, too, shall pass, I am finding that the twos haven’t been so terrible at all. They are just too terribly precious to forget.