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.

Uniquely and Wonderfully Made: On the Eve of the Big 0-3

As a former teacher and grateful mother, I truly believe that each child is uniquely and wonderfully made. My Emma Grace is no exception. Today, on her last day as a two-year-old, on the eve of the big 0-3, I want to take some time to reflect on the little things that make her her. For instance, Emma loves food the way that some kids adore their favorite blanket. She doesn’t want to leave home without it, wishes she could have it anytime and anywhere, and finds it to be comforting after an injury or when she’s especially tired. Her favorites are bread, Grandma’s applesauce and squash, cheese and crackers, and for a really special treat, Goldfish, pizza, or chips. Each morning, often before anything else, she asks for her morning oatmeal when I go in to hug her. When she finishes her oatmeal, she immediately requests Wheat Chex. She enjoys rice, asks for broccoli, and likes an occasional bite of cookie. She could do without mushrooms, cucumbers, and ice cream. There is quite a dedication to eating on both sides of her family tree, so her allegiance to food is not a surprising trait. Also, Emma has a natural curiosity for the alphabet, wanting to know how words are spelled and telling you what sound each letter makes. So far, numbers hold limited interest for her, but letters are fascinating. We have to be careful when we spell words, because occasionally she interprets what we are saying as though we shouldn’t have gone to the effort of trying to conceal it. Speaking of language, Emma adores books. She has been turning the pages and closely following stories since before she could talk or walk. For the past year, she has had over a hundred stories memorized and will “read” them to her dolls or to herself when we’re not able to stop and read to her. She reads with intonation and conviction, and it is a delight to watch. She also thinks that videos and DVDs are fascinating. She watches intently, memorizing the lines of the video and using them throughout her daily life with a frequency that would make you think she’s plopped in front of the TV much of the day instead of for half an hour. Sometimes the lines are sweet like her “I Love You” song from Barney. Sometimes they inspire imagination like her pretending to be Tusky the elephant who falls down and gets stuck on Wee Sing Trains, and sometimes they make us cringe with embarrassment like the “I’m not very good at (fill in the blank)” from another Barney DVD. We have never used those words with her, but to hear her talk, you might think that we let her know regularly where she falls short. Each time she learns a new line from a video, she looks for every opportunity to use it. She really finds interest in drama, being especially drawn to stories and videos where someone cries or gets hurt. She is concerned and compassionate when these things occur, but she is also curious, trying to figure out how the world works. She says things like, “It’s okay. His Mommy will help him feel better. She will take care of him.” Her sweetness is one of the things that melts us about her. She has hugs readily available for her sister, kisses at the ready for Daddy and me before she goes to sleep at night, and frequent compliments for whoever cooks the meal: “You make the best cheeseburger pie, Mommy” or “Daddy, this rice is delicious!” Yesterday, at her birthday party, she opened clothes from Aunt and Uncle and said, “They’re so cute. I just love them.” She loves to take care of her dolls in her pretend play, taking them on trips to Valli Produce, Woodman’s, or Target. She pulls up her shirt to feed her doll if it’s crying, reassuring me that the doll just got hungry, and she will feel better soon. Emma and I have a close bond, which is something for which I am grateful but also makes it hard for her to leave me. Once a week, she goes to a two-year-old class at church, and she often has to be pried out of my arms while screaming. It breaks both of our hearts, but by the time we go to pick her up, she doesn’t want to leave. She has a pretty strong sense of right and wrong for herself and others (“Mommy, no standing on the couch, remember?” when I’m dusting a high up frame on the wall.) But, like any two-year-old, she has natural lapses (like throwing a pink piece of chalk in the toilet to see what happens. She talked about that “bad choice” for weeks afterward!) Her honesty is so fresh, sweet, and funny: “I like to share Lily’s toys, but I don’t like her to share mine” or “You can have the broken Wheat Chex, Daddy.” She is thoughtful and giving in many ways, but when she isn’t, she is totally open about it. Lately, it’s been tougher for her to share toys when friends come over, but she is learning to snuggle Mommy until she’s ready to join in and play, too. She enjoys going over to friends’ houses for play dates and quickly finds any dolls to play with once we arrive. She is interacting more with her friends as she gets older, and she totally looks up to my third grade cousin. Emma loves the people closest to her more than books, toys, or food. She will choose to see Grandpa, Grandma, Mommy, Daddy, Lily, Aunt, or Uncle whenever she possibly can. If Grandpa and Grandma show up and she didn’t know they were coming, she’ll cheer “Woo hoo! Woo hoo!” When we leave their house, she’ll say, “Can I come again?” in a voice that makes all of our hearts puddle on the floor. Her favorite family time activities are family dance party (Daddy and she do a mean swing dance to “Jump, Jive, and Wail”), playing parachute, baking with Mommy (especially granola), and snuggling up with a good book. Emma’s favorite toys are her dolls, doll stroller, play kitchen, and anything new and novel. Above all of these, though, she will often choose books. We let her keep a book during naptime, and she falls asleep with it on her or cuddled beside her. She loves music, too, and will sing along as Daddy plays guitar. She has definite opinions about which CD she hopes will be playing when we get into the van, but she also will (usually) willingly take turns with Daddy between her music and his. She spends much of her day singing both familiar songs and songs she makes up. Emma does not like to be messy, but she’s learning that the world can be messy, so she has figured out how to comfort herself: “I’ll just wipe my hands after this. Mommy will help me.” Speaking of comfort, she never sucked her thumb or used a pacifier, but she would put her arm to her nose and sniff for comfort from the time we saw her on ultrasound. This becomes more frequent when she is tired or sad, and it is often our cue that naptime or bedtime is approaching. Emma has an elite club of people that she is comfortable with, and she has a special way of snuggling in and fingering their clothes when she’s feeling especially close to them. She is not one to give out affection in huge quantities, so when you receive it, you feel it really means something. She is both silly and serious. She can be so giggly, wanting to make other people laugh. She likes making up rhyming jokes, like changing the words of a song to “Twelve Months of the Ear” rather than “Year.” On the other hand, she tends to be serious and focused much of the time, taking the world in. She often whispers a line to herself that she hears someone saying, memorizing it and storing it away for later use. Sometimes this causes her to form thoughts that make us hold in a giggle, like the other night when this was her prayer before bed: “Dear God, please bless Grandpa and Grandma and Great-Grandpa and Grandma W. and B. and Uncle Jason and Aunt Amanda and baby cousin and Cousin Aidan as they travel and….Go Pack Go. Amen.” My family members are definite Packer Backers, and obviously Emma has been listening and decided to take it to a higher power. At home, she talks or sings almost constantly and often follows us upstairs and downstairs just to be near us. Other times, she plays or reads on her own but still checks in with us. In new or less familiar situations, she grows quiet and keeps to herself, preferring to observe rather than interact. Like many kids, Emma is proud to be getting bigger, excited to be using a big spoon now, to get to use toothpaste for the first time, to be able to play big kid games. She likes to ask, "Am I big enough?" As she tries something new, she'll sing, "I can do it, there's nothing to it. I can do it by myself!" She has definite opinions about things and is not easily swayed by peer pressure. She takes pride in choosing her outfit each morning. She is not a picky eater, but we have tried to get her to eat mushrooms, one of the few things she’s adamant about not liking. Each of us will say, “I love mushrooms!” Emma will say, “I don’t like them very well.” She stays strong, and we hope that this will carry over into her teenage years. She wishes that we didn’t have to brush her teeth or give her baths, but as she’s getting older, she usually accepts that these are just part of life. When I cut her nails, she reminds me, “Gently, Mommy.” When she gets hurt, she cries hard and needs a kiss from Mommy. When she gets her feelings hurt, she cries harder and says, “I’m not feeling very well.” Emma has a reverence for teachers, imitating her Toddler Time teacher, the library story time teacher, and her Music Together teacher. I’ll hear her say, “Okay friends, it’s time to…” or “We’re going to sit criss cross applesauce” as she holds a book outward for her imaginary students to see. Her favorite color changes daily, weekly, or hourly. Usually it is pink or purple, but sometimes it is blue. She likes to know what other people are thinking, asking, “What was your favorite part of dinner, Daddy?” or “What are you thinking about, Mommy?” Sometimes she likes to ask questions she already knows the answer to, just to feel the satisfaction of hearing what she expects to. Other times, she won’t know the answer to a question, and she’ll say, “I’m eating (or playing) right now” rather than answer. Like most of us, she enjoys compliments and will gladly sit for me to put pigtails in after others have said they’re cute, or she will remind me of who liked her shirt. She is so proud when we are proud of her, and we are often proud of her. There is so much about Emma that is special, delightful, and changing every day. Though this is detailed, it only captures a small portion of who she truly is. This is a snapshot of her on her last day as a two-year-old, but I know that she will grow and change as the story of her life unfolds. I feel privileged that I’ve had these past three years with her. Though there are some days that fly by and others that proceed more slowly, I have not had one uneventful day since the moment I first held her. She has given me some moments that have stretched me as a mother, but she has filled more of my days with joy and all of them with such love. She is uniquely Emma Grace, and I thank God every day that I get to borrow her for these years as she slowly grows into who she is meant to be.

All Cried Out

It’s been an emotional few days around here. Thursday night, I finally decided to have Lily cry it out at night. At her nine-month appointment, her pediatrician said she really should be sleeping through the night. She had still been getting up one to four times a night, and she seemed to be eating a lot while she was up. With Emma, we let her cry it out early, but my few attempts at having Lily do it always ended with me giving in after thirty or forty minutes, being willing to lose sleep night after night so that she wouldn’t have to be so sad. Then, Thursday night, I was reading a parenting book that said that letting her get up so much at night was teaching her poor sleep habits, and it was a sleep problem a parent was responsible for. Now, like most mothers, it was one thing to suffer myself, but between the pediatrician and this book, I began to think that maybe I was hurting Lily even more than myself. Emma has fantastic sleep habits, and we did sleep train her. Though I was afraid of Lily waking Emma with her extended crying periods, I decided that her long-term ability to sleep well would be worth it. This meant that Thursday night, I had the agonizing task of listening to her cries of betrayal and defeat from 1:00 to 2:00 a.m. Then, from 2:00 to 3:00 a.m., her cries persisted but were interspersed with heart-sickening moans. Let me just have it be known that the only parenting task that I have disliked more than crying it out is potty training. There is something so sickening about hearing a cry that is going unanswered. As I listened to her cries in the dark for those two hours, I prayed that she would feel loved and not abandoned. Sure enough, in the morning, she woke up with her usual sweet smile for me, seeming completely unaffected. I, on the other hand, was exhausted emotionally and from lack of sleep. The next night, Friday, the crying lasted an hour and a half. Again, heart wrenching, but a step in the right direction. Saturday morning, she slept until almost 9:00 a.m. I was so ready for her to eat, but my conscience wouldn’t let me wake her up since I hadn’t fed her when she wanted to eat during the night. By last night, I dreaded putting her down for the night knowing that it would be another rough night, but then she only cried for a few minutes in the middle of the night, and she slept from 8:00 p.m. until 7:15 a.m. I was thrilled at this progress and reassured that this had been the right path for our whole family. Through all of the crying, Emma never woke up, and each morning, Lily didn’t hold a grudge. Just as I was starting to take a deep breath after an emotional few nights, my poor little Lily had an accident tonight. Like most accidents, it was a freak thing. I was getting her dressed, and she launched herself forward, landing hard on a toy teacup saucer, and causing her gums to bleed and her two new teeth to push back. I think I cried harder than she did. After emergency calls to our pediatrician and a pediatric dentist, we are waiting until tomorrow to check on our poor little peanut’s teeth. As I sit here on Valentine’s Day still sick over the pain that my baby girl felt earlier tonight, I am struck by the power of love. I remember when I first fell in love with my husband, and everything felt stronger, deeper, more vivid. His smile made my heart leap, when we disagreed my heart ached, and his presence filled that same heart with such hope. I felt I could do anything, and we could do everything together. A mother’s love for her child changes everything, too. There is not pain that I have felt, including childbirth, that compares to the agony of seeing (or hearing) my children in pain. It is as if everything is so much more acute. Their joy causes me to see all of the beauty in the world, and their pain is excruciating beyond what I feel when my own body is hurt. Loving my husband and my girls has taught me both a richness of mountaintop highs and a riskiness of deep valley lows that I might not have otherwise known. So this Valentine’s Day, even though it’s been an emotional few days, I am overwhelmed by how blessed I am to have a husband who has made my world more beautiful and vibrant and two children that I love enough to have my heart travel places I never dreamed it could rise or fall. Today and every day, I am so grateful for my family.

Sisterly Sweetness

When Conant and I found out that Lily was going to be a girl, we were thrilled. Knowing that dads sometimes wish for a son, I asked him privately if he was at all disappointed at having a second girl, and he assured me that he was ecstatic. I, too, was more than happy. We would have been very grateful for a son or a daughter to join our family, but the thought of Emma having a sister was reason to celebrate in my mind. We come from families with lots of boys. My mom has eight brothers, my dad has two brothers, my hubby has a brother. In fact, none of us have sisters. I am fortunate to have a big brother who I love dearly and wouldn’t trade for anyone, but especially since I have become an adult, I have thought about how different life would be if I had a sister, too. Of course, I’m sure that I’m only thinking of the positives…that sister that is always one phone call away, who you can confide in, who has tissues and chocolate ready while you cry on her shoulder, who cheers you on and shares all your biggest celebrations with you. Somehow I forget to think about competitiveness, petty disagreements, and the many squabbles that would probably have been part of growing up together. Nevertheless, I think that my girls having a same-sex sibling is a gift. This week, I have seen my girls’ bond strengthen, and it warms my heart. I was getting ready the other morning, and I heard Emma creep into her sister’s room. I listened and could hear Lily’s delighted coos at seeing her big sister first thing in the morning. Then, Emma began singing to her baby sister, making up the sweetest lyrics revolving around Lily’s many nicknames: “Belle, belle, belle, belle, belle, belle, belle, bell (to the tune of “Clementine”), “Peanut, peanut butter,” and other more creative words that have unfortunately already fled my memory. Another day, she went over to Lily, hugged her, and began to sing, “You are very special and I love you so, love you so, love you so.” During our family dance party, the girls reached out for each other and shared a dance. When Lily drops a toy or begins to cry, Emma often rushes over to hand her something new to calm her disappointment. She frequently strokes Lily’s hair and says, “Oh, she’s so cute. She’s such a cute baby. She’s such a cute little thumb sucker.” Yesterday, seeing Lily creep toward a lamp cord on the ground, Emma took the initiative, ran and got a burp cloth, and laid it over the cord to keep her baby sister safe. Lily, for her part, offers Emma some of her biggest smiles, her most heartfelt coos, and her general adoration. These spontaneous acts of sisterly kindness and love remind me of everything pure and lovely about having a sibling. Admittedly, next week, Lily could be crawling, getting into all of big sister’s toys, and this could be a whole new blog entry. Without a doubt, I have seen the very human moments of envy and frustration between my two girls, too. I think any close relationship has these moments, but what I hope for my girls is that the general lifelong theme of their relationship will be grace and love, forgiveness and loyalty. They don’t have to have a perfect relationship, but I hope that their bond is strong enough to weather storms and to make it through short seasons or long years of rivalry. For now, I am enjoying the sisterly sweetness present in our home this week, and I am going to count my blessings that I have been given sisters, two of them. Though they may not be my sisters, they are each other’s, and it is a relationship with such rich potential that I want it even more for my daughters than for myself.

Laugh Lines

If laughter is the best medicine, then I should be able to skip trips to the pharmacy for the next several years. At almost three-years-old, Emma definitely has her share of laugh lines. Here are some of her one (or two) liners as of late: Today, as she was coloring a picture as part of her thank you to her aunt and uncle, I asked her what she had colored with the purple crayon. She replied, “Umm, nothing. It’s just Spanish.” That would explain why I was having trouble “reading” it. The other night, as I was giving Lily a bath upstairs, I heard Emma earnestly tell her daddy, “Be a man, Daddy.” I burst into laughter, as I can honestly say that she didn’t learn this from me. Later, I discovered that she wanted him to be a parachute man, hiding under the parachute and showing just his face through the center hole…seems like a more age appropriate request. Emma likes to ask us, “Do you have a baby?” when we’re holding her baby sister. Conant decided to turn the tables and ask our doll-loving daughter, “Do you have a baby?” Making sure that her parents have a firm grip on reality, she patiently replied, “I have a pretend baby.” Then she clarified, “(Mommy) has a real baby.” Emma made a Valentine's Day card for her grandpa and grandma last week. As we sat down to get started, she asked, “Are Grandpa and Grandma just going to love this?” She has them pretty much figured out. A couple of weeks ago, Conant and I, both sleep deprived and crabby after trying to do the impossible—get two kids with colds to smile for a picture at the same time—looked over at Emma. She, seeming both concerned and thoughtful, remarked, “You both need to take a rest—a nap—and then you’ll feel better.” She knows us pretty well, too. After watching me use a new toothbrush on baby Lily’s first tooth, E requested, “Brush her teeth—then pausing to self-correct—brush her one tooth again, Mommy.” Yesterday, after I gave Emma some water from the fridge, she exclaimed, “Thank you, Mommy! You make the most delicious water in the whole world!” Who says this is a thankless job?