Is a Picture Worth a Thousand...

…gray hairs? That is what I found myself asking yesterday. Thursday is currently my favorite day of the week, simply because I have nothing concrete scheduled, nothing to get two kids ready for, nothing to rush out the door for in the morning. We can go to library story time or have grandparents over or run errands or make homemade granola. The possibilities are endless. So, when I woke up yesterday to a Thursday, I was excited, hopeful, optimistic, ready to be super mom (or more accurately at least not a super overscheduled, super stressed, super hurried mom.) Then, I got (in retrospect) a not-so-bright idea. I would get the girls and myself ready and go get pictures taken to surprise Conant and the grandparents for Christmas. The plan seemed simple enough…choose outfits, do three heads of hair in photo worthy styles (I wanted one picture of all three of us for Conant’s office), secure an appointment, ask for a female photographer since my girls are leery of men they don’t know, make sure bellies are very full and children are rested. We spent over an hour preparing for our appointment. I ironed, kept clothes on top of their clothes until the last second, wiped their faces until they shined, took along extra clothes just in case, and loaded us into the minivan. We arrived at the photo studio all smiles. Then, the nice photographer took us back to the room, and Lily began to sob as if someone was trying to rip her from my arms or had just told her that she could not have seconds of her favorite snack. (And yes, these two traumatic events currently elicit the same amount and intensity of crying from her.) Several minutes and two very puffy, tear-filled eyes later, I removed Lily from the room, worked to soothe her, wiped her eyes and face, and took her back in to try again. She continued to be extremely challenging and refused to have her picture taken without me holding her. My hope was to get sister pictures for the grandparents. I had a great coupon, a great attitude, and a great amount of false hope. After a while of listening to my 18-month-old scream, the nice lady politely suggested she download the pictures to see what we had. We both knew that what we had was a big waste of digital memory space. I love my children and am supposed to say that they couldn’t take a bad picture, but they took a lot of them yesterday. After we reviewed the pictures and agreed that there was not a single one that was usable, I tentatively asked the photographer if we could try a few with the girls sitting on a little bench. I knew Lily would love the bench. Sure enough, she smiled and felt like a big girl. The problem at this point was that Emma was done. She had cooperated (though half-heartedly) during Lily’s hysteria, and she did not have anything left to give. After looking at the second set of pictures, I told the lady, with great embarrassment, that I could buy some pictures to make it worth her time, but they would not be going out to relatives or going on our wall. She mercifully told me that I didn’t have to, and we could reschedule. I replied that I would not bring my children back until we were to a point where they would actually have their picture taken (willingly and without disturbing the entire mall.) I think she was secretly doing back flips, but she respectfully concealed her relief. As we were talking, though, she actually told Emma to be quiet. I could tell she was at the end of her patience. I had left my patience behind about twenty minutes into the session. As I buckled Emma into her car seat, she looked at me and said, “Mommy, you look very sad.” I answered, “I am very sad. I really wanted to surprise Daddy and Grandpa and Grandma with some nice pictures.” Emma carefully thought this over, then said, “You are sad, so I am sad, too. I am sad because you are my friend, Mommy. You are my friend, and I love you. If you are sad, I am sad.” Conant got home shortly after we did, and he saw my crushed face. I went downstairs to collect myself, and I could hear him questioning the girls. Emma said, “Mommy is so sad because we didn’t get any pictures. Peanut was crying. “Conant wisely asked, “And were you being a good listener to Mommy?” Emma honestly answered, “A little bit. I’ll try harder next time. I am sad because Mommy’s sad. She’s my best friend.” Conant answered, “She’s my best friend, too.” All of this sweetness helped make me feel a bit better about the day, but I still felt as though I had left my zest for Thursdays and mothering behind halfway through our photo session. Most days, I would tell you that being a mom is tough but wonderful. Yesterday, all I felt was tough. I am so grateful for my two beautiful girls. I am beyond thankful that they are healthy, sweet, and a much wanted part of our family. I guess I just wanted to capture that beauty and sweetness for our loved ones and for our family’s posterity. As ridiculous as it sounds, it hurt my feelings when the girls wouldn’t cooperate for something so important to me. My husband gently reminded me that Lily is one-and-a-half. Perhaps I should have talked to him before I had the bright idea to go in the first place. So, Emma and Lily, when you ask me some day why we don’t have professional pictures of the two of you, it is because I decided that, for now, a picture is not worth getting a thousand gray hairs, crying a hundred tears, or making a couple of photographers cringe when they see our family. Daddy takes many wonderful pictures of the two of you, and for now, that will have to be enough…at least until next week, when I might decide to have our annual family Christmas photo taken. For, in motherhood, hope always springs anew. We see the possibilities in our kids, and somehow, we forget the exhaustion when we look into their faces. All we see is love. When I woke up today, I didn’t see two little girls who wouldn’t smile for the camera. I saw two gifts from God who make me smile every day. And that is worth more than a thousand pictures.

Laughter and Love

Laughter: Emma makes us laugh regularly now. Sometimes she is trying to be silly, and sometimes she is really funny without trying at all. Last night, as we were making dinner for some friends, we lit a candle. Emma asked whose birthday it was. This was a logical question, given that she had two friends’ birthday parties this weekend. We told her it wasn’t anyone’s birthday. Then, she said, “I know! It’s the first night of Hanukkah.” Though we used to live in a very diverse area, that was before Emma was born. She has actually never talked to anyone who celebrates Hanukkah, but in the past, we have let her learn about other holidays through a Sesame Street video. Obviously she’s just been watching for signs that we’re beginning the Hanukkah celebration. Along those same lines, she likes to get really close to Lily, especially when we’re not in the room, and quietly ask her, “How do you celebrate Kwanzaa, baby?” I’ve come around the corner more than once to happen upon this sweet scene. 

Love: Emma really knows how to show love. We were eating lunch with Grandma when Emma said that she wanted to take Grandma to a restaurant in town. I told her that Daddy would take her on their upcoming daddy / daughter date. Emma adores Daddy, but she said, “No, I want to take Grandma.” I asked her why. She replied, “Because she’s my best friend.” I think it made Grandma’s week! We have started playing this Mad – Sad – Glad game that I learned about at my church Mom to Mom group. Emma loves it. The first night we played, I asked her and my hubby what had made them glad, sad, and mad that day. After the two of them had gone, the subject somehow got changed. Emma persisted, though, and said, “Excuse me, Mommy. What made you glad today?” She is thoughtful to make sure no one gets their feelings hurt, and she wanted to make sure I didn’t get left out. When Daddy has to go on business trips, she eagerly colors him pictures and dictates notes to him. We hide them in his suitcase, and she talks about how Daddy is in “Connecticut.” If Lily is desperate for a doll, even if it’s one Emma really wants to play with, she usually gives Lily a turn with it. If Lily is crying, Emma will sometimes start giggling just to get baby sister feeling better and giggling with her. After Emma went to a classmate’s spa / doll / tea party birthday spectacular this weekend, I asked her what her favorite parts of the party were. She answered “the snack” and “bringing a present to my friend, Lily.” She truly loves to give (and she also loves to eat!) Emma continues to be a tender, thoughtful kid. We are thankful for the smiles she gives us and how she tugs on our heartstrings.

One-On-One Fun With the Youngest One

Though we miss Emma while she is at preschool, she absolutely loves it there. She has told me, “Mommy, I don’t cry at preschool because I am so happy there.” So, it is without guilt that Lily and I very much enjoy our chance for one-on-one time while big sister is having the time of her life. There are definitely mornings when I clean the house, do laundry, run errands, and generally try to catch up when I have one sweet monkey here instead of two, but then there are the other mornings, the ones when it is Lily’s time. We read, we play, and we find out who Lily is without a big sister around. They are sweet friends and great playmates, but it is nice to know what Lily likes to do when there is no one to follow or to negotiate toy rights with, no one to influence her or to answer questions before Lily gets a chance. Though Emma has been a very kind big sister the vast majority of the time, it can be tough always being littler, trying to keep up in a much smaller body. When Lily and I are alone, she doesn’t try to keep up. She just is. And I get to watch that, and I get to smile. I feel like this one-on-one time gives Lily the best of both worlds…a big sister who is a lot of fun to learn from and time alone with Mommy to giggle and grow. I think Lily’s favorite activity is our Music Together class with Teacher Donna. She squeals with delight, claps with the music, walks around, and joins in with some of the words and sounds. She is absolutely joyful while we are there, and she beams much of the time. If you even mention Teacher Donna’s name, she starts singing “Hu-llo,” slapping her hands on her legs like we do in the opening song, and making funny sounds on her lips just like Teacher Donna does. We have fun at home, too. This morning, Lily spent at least fifteen minutes just rocking her favorite baby, which happens to be Emma’s baby. She cuddled her and smiled at her, caring for her with such a warm motherly touch that it kept me from laughing at the fact that the doll is truly almost as big as Lily is. She “fed” me from the play dishes from the play kitchen. We read together as she confidently told me the animal sounds and eagerly listened to her books. She soaked up the mommy time, the cuddles, the sweet stillness of a quiet house. Even when we are alone, though, she is still independent. When her nose got messy, she blew it herself, and when her diaper needed changing, she told me. I marvel sometimes at how young she has been when she has wanted to feed herself, blow her nose, brush her teeth, wash her hands, play with the “big girl” toys. She answers "yeah" or "no" to questions with absolute conviction. She asks for her snack, crawls up the stairs to get it, and opens the pantry door with a request for “cracker” or “puff puff” or occasionally goes to the buffet to hand me a piece of fruit. Though I think she was born to have a certain personality, a confidence about her, she has also been formed by the necessity of not having everything done for her instantly. Being a second child can be a challenge, but it can also be a gift. She has learned to use her voice and to figure things out by watching others. She has learned to share and work out deals with another child, to know that the world doesn’t revolve only around her, but that she is so important to our family, and she is absolutely one of the most important parts of our world. I give thanks that Lily is exactly who she is…who she was born to be, who she is because she was the second child born to our family, who she is still becoming in the moments when she watches me, observes her sister, gets swung around by her adoring daddy, makes her own choices and decisions no matter what the rest of us like to do. I am so happy that I get a chance to just be with her sometimes, to interact with her in a way that is only possible one-on-one, to give her undivided attention. Then, I am absolutely thrilled when our family of four can be together again, to learn from each other, love on each other, and play together. For in my eyes, there is nothing like a mommy, daddy, and two little girls having a family dance party, giggling all at the same time, sharing the joy of family togetherness. I like to think that Lily has the best of both worlds…a noisy house full of love and quiet moments filled with mommy time, and I think the world of the blessing that is for both of us.

Lesson Learned

A few weeks ago, Emma shared with Grandma that her preschool teacher mispronounces her last name. Emma’s preschool teacher is fabulous, and I certainly don’t hold it against her. Our last name is easy to mispronounce, and it has happened often to my husband and me. Emma said she didn’t want to tell her teacher that she was mispronouncing it, so I planned to bring it up casually sometime in the future. However, I have long been a people pleaser, for good and for bad, and I just didn’t have the heart to bring it up. It never seemed the perfect moment or the ideal time. Well, today I had the privilege of volunteering in Emma’s preschool classroom. I loved observing her in her school environment and was thrilled to see for myself what I already believed: that the kids are well loved, wisely educated, and thoroughly engaged. Emma seemed happy to be at school and sweetly concerned with doing as she was asked. This was great and what I want for her—to be respectful, follow the rules, and make the educational environment conducive to learning for others as well as herself. At the end of the morning, as we were walking away from the school, I told Emma that I saw the teacher asking other kids what their first and last names were. Then, I asked her what she had said when it was her turn. She answered, “Emma.” Next, I asked her what else she said. Growing uncomfortable, she said, “Just Emma, Mommy.” Emma happens to be a kid who is very verbal. She has known how to say her last name since she was 15 months old, and she could spell it at 22 months. So I said, “But you know your last name. What did you tell her?” She looked as though she would like to melt into the sidewalk, and I tried to encourage her with my most understanding mommy gaze. Then, she said our last name in the same way that her teacher has been mispronouncing it. It turns out that she wanted to save face for her teacher more than she wanted her name pronounced correctly. In that moment, I realized that my people pleasing propensity either got passed along in a gene or has been learned over the past three and a half years...more likely the latter. Right then and there, we turned around, walked back to the school, and I confessed to the teacher. She, of course, was gracious and kind. Emma (thankfully) didn’t melt into the sidewalk from embarrassment, and I received an important reminder that watching out for my kids might mean that I have to step out of my comfort zone so that they will be willing and confident to do the same. I am so grateful that Emma is respectful to others. She is kind and sweet and thoughtful and surprisingly tactful for a preschooler. Now I just need to balance that with teaching her to also respect her own needs, to be courageous and willing to speak up if it matters. Maybe the pronunciation of her name really isn’t such a big deal to her…but I want her to know how to use her voice when she finds something that is. And that is what I learned at preschool today.

Seriously Sweet

With two precious girls, there are some seriously sweet moments…those times when you feel like your cheeks ache from smiling, your heart melts from warmth, and your mind works on overdrive knowing that you want to remember every detail even when you don’t have a pen and paper close at hand. In the past few weeks, both Emma and Lily have given me plenty to remember.   

Emma, at 3 ½-years-old: • Emma is turning into a thoughtful, kind little girl. She asks questions about the world around her on a continual basis. She thinks of her baby sister often and likes to play doll house, grocery store, and Little People with her. She does get tired from our new preschool schedule and sometimes struggles to fulfill her daily chores (putting napkins on the table, clearing her dishes, making her bed, picking up her toys), but she is usually a good helper. She giggles more lately, and we enjoy seeing her learn to smile at more and more of life. • Recently, we had a fun-filled weekend that included a trip out to Grandpa and Grandma’s, time outside on the farm, two different restaurant outings (a favorite activity for Emma), new toys to play with at my aunt and uncle’s, and time with all four of her great-grandparents. After the weekend, as we were riding home, I asked Emma what her favorite part of the whole weekend was. She said, “Seeing Great-Grandma (W.)...her reading and reading to me.” With all of the excitement, her finest hour was spent snuggled up next to my grandma, doing exactly what I did when I was Emma’s age: listening in pure bliss as Grandma read her book after book. I felt so fortunate that my daughter could absorb how special that was, that she could enjoy something that meant so much to me when I was a girl, and that she still has great-grandparents that are able to spend time with her. • We had friends over to play, and Emma was putting together a puzzle with a four-year-old friend. The four-year-old friend, understandably, was getting a bit frustrated with Lily as she repeatedly wanted to get her hands on the puzzle pieces. Emma, the big sis, looked at her friend and patiently said, “She’s just a baby. She doesn’t know.” It was clear that Emma was defending her sister, offering up a compassionate explanation for little Lily’s behavior. I was touched by her grace and kindness. Then I moved Lily away from the puzzle for the third or fourth time. • Emma was playing ice cream shop with Grandpa and Grandma. She looked at each of them and asked, “Would you like a sundae or a Monday?” • A few days ago, Emma had preschool. After we picked her up from school, Grandpa and Grandma took us, Uncle Jason, and some old family friends out for lunch at Emma’s favorite restaurant. As we opened the door to the restaurant, Emma joyfully and incredulously remarked, “Wow! Preschool and The Machine Shed on the same day…what a lucky girl!” • We have heard the beginnings of outside influences in our home. Emma talks often about the friends at preschool. Recently, we’ve heard her say, “The other kids in the class…” and “E got her ears pierced. I would like to get my ears pierced” and “E doesn’t use a stool when she goes potty anymore. I don’t need to use a stool either.” It is interesting (and often makes us grin and only occasionally grimace) to hear all the things other three-year-olds are teaching her every day about life outside of our family’s “normal.” She has grown so much from preschool in confidence, experience, and social skills. She comes home singing all her colors in Spanish, spelling the color red in English, and sharing sweet songs about how God made her wonderful. We are thrilled to see her thrive there. • This summer, when Emma wanted to know someone’s name at the playground, she wasn’t sure how she should handle it. I role played with her what to say, but she was tentative about it. After she started preschool, she told me, “Don’t worry, Mommy. When I don’t know another kid’s name, I just say, ‘Hi, I’m Emma. What’s your name?’” It is exactly what I role played with her and had no idea she remembered from earlier this summer. The first day she brought a class picture home from school, she studiously practiced each child’s name, again and again, until she could easily identify each girl in her class. Next, she requested that I help her learn the boys. Now, she easily talks about the kids in her class by name. • The other night, I told Emma a sad story about how I let go of some balloons when I was a little girl, lost them forever into the air, and felt terribly because they were both mine and Uncle Jason’s balloons. She wanted to hear it again and again. After listening about the tear-filled tale, she said, “But Mommy, you were happy because Uncle Jason was there.” In Emma’s world-view, having the very cool Uncle Jason there should have made everything better. I love that she has extended family that is a consistent and positive part of her life. • Today, Emma came home from preschool with one of her most colorful, detailed coloring pages to date. As I pulled it out of her folder, she said, “That picture is for Daddy, for his birthday in October. Can you hide it away so he doesn’t see it? He can’t see it until October, and when it’s his birthday, I will show it to him.” How wonderful that she’s thinking about how to make her daddy’s birthday special! 

Lily, at 16 ½-months-old: • Lily has such a joyful, exuberant personality, so full of life and smiles and happy screeches and bubbling energy. Recently, people have been watching her in public and commenting about how cute she is and how lucky I am to have such a happy, giggly baby. I agree that we are enormously and richly and deeply blessed to have a child who loves life so fearlessly and vocally and passionately. She feels life and expresses openly, crying for hurt feelings and squealing with zeal for parachute, Daddy, or a hundred other little reasons throughout each day. She is so sweet with me and will just come over, fall on me, and start sucking her thumb if I am sitting on the floor. She loves her Grandma almost more than me and is thrilled to be in her arms when Grandma visits, though she remembers her mama if she’s tired or hurt. • She is lively but gentle, holding a teddy bear and feeding it a bottle with a loving mother’s touch. • Lily is so excited to learn, and she loves to be asked her animal sounds and to tell you that the cow says “moo” and the dog says “woof! woof! woof!” Her favorite book is a lift-the-flap story about animals. • She is really strong. We just got a new toy storage system, and I was asking Emma to put back one of the big bins. She said, “I can’t, Mommy. It’s too heavy.” I picked it up and agreed with her, then suddenly realized that someone had to get it out. I asked Emma, “How did you get it out?” She said, “I didn’t. Peanut did.” She is a little peanut, but she is mighty! • Lily is always looking for ways to become bigger. She wants to walk up the stairs, holding the railing, though she can barely reach. She prefers the booster seat at the table with the rest of the family as opposed to her high chair. If I tell her it’s time to eat, she goes over to the booster seat, pats it, and says, “boo. boo” to let me know her seating preference. • Thursday, she said her name for the first time and pointed at herself as she said it. It was adorable! • She pats me on the chest again and again and says, “Mama. Mama. Mama,” seeming to declare ownership. • She finds her SleepSack on the floor and cuddles it. If it’s on the hard tile floor, she looks like a tripod, putting her head on the SleepSack and her bottom up in the air. • She tries to reach her spare SleepSack on the changing table shelf near her crib. If she can catch the edge when she wakes up from her nap, she grabs it and drags it through the slats of the crib, looking at me triumphantly when I enter the room. I adore that dimpled grin. Life continues to be busy and full of diaper changes that are dirty work, dishes that leave dish-pan hands, drop-off for preschool that is plenty early, and dinners that are more chaotic than serene, but I can’t help but smile…our girls are seriously sweet.

Lonely But Never Alone

Motherhood is one of those jobs you can never envision until you are in it. It is wonderful beyond all expectations, and it is simultaneously more exhausting than you could have imagined. In this blog, I try to record our memories, and for the most part, it is not hard to talk about all of the joy that comes with parenting. However, sometimes I think it’s important to mention the tougher side of mommying so that all of us remember that we’re not alone.

First of all, in mommyhood, days are packed, and yet you actually feel like you accomplish very little. You wake up to crying, wash the same dishes repeatedly, create meals that end up in equal parts nourishing your little ones, providing ample opportunities for sweeping the floor, and allowing enough diaper changes that you should be called the Diaper Genie or bumGenius. You pick up the same toys dozens of times (a day) or spend three times as long encouraging your children to pick up the same toys (and that’s when they’re actually motivated to help.) You reinforce the same rules, manners, and expectations for behavior. Yet sometimes you wonder if you are that tree in the forest that no one has heard. You follow a schedule that revolves around eating, sleeping, and playing, but none of it relates to your own needs for eating, sleeping, or playing. Routine is so important to kids, and you spend much of your day trying to work around this routine, but sometimes the mundane causes you to forget the meaningful. Sure, you are working really hard, accomplishing so much. The tough part is, you might not know exactly what that is for another twenty years.

Trips to stores are adventures at best, calamities at worst. With one kid in the top of the cart and another in the basket, you cover your child(ren) in items and end up discovering squished strawberries, dented boxes, and chewed labels…all before you’ve even paid. You hope that your child(ren) will not draw the eyes of strangers for any other reason than to say they are cute. You do not want to be “that family,” the one who elicits stares of pity or judgment as your one-year-old screams or your three-year-old sobs. You enter stores with a plan, a snack, a list, a stack of coupons, and a dream that this will be a better trip than the last one. Sometimes you are pleasantly surprised, and sometimes you do the walk of shame out to your car. All of the time, you feel like you’ve climbed a mountain with the effort of simply buying items for your family while taking care of its smallest members.

As a mom, you have some lonely days where your most coherent conversation involves answering the same question (or babble) repeatedly. Strangely, though, you’re never alone. You go to the bathroom with company and someone whose sole goal it is to unroll the toilet paper roll. You get dressed amidst questions, opinions, suggestions, and small people trying on your undergarments. You try to sweep with four extra hands on the broom and four little feet walking through your pile of crumbs (or maybe that’s just at our house.) I liken it to life in a big city. You are surrounded at all times, but sometimes you feel so very alone. On the other hand, as much as you absolutely adore your children, you would give just about anything except for an hour of sleep or their health or safety just to be alone for ten minutes…for a shower, a phone conversation with a friend that is actually uninterrupted, a quick nap that will restore your energy and help you play puzzles or pat-a-cake or pretend for another afternoon. The fact is, I love my children so much, and as long as some days are, this is going too fast for me to wish for too much time away from them. Still, there are definitely days when I could use a breather, not so much to be away from them, but just to remember who I am when nobody is looking. To do this job well means to be held accountable at all times, and that’s a tough task for anyone.

All is not lost, though. Amidst the packed days and languishing “to do” lists are the moments and the magic that make this job incredible. When I get “nothing” done, I try to remember that this job will have its rewards for generations to come. When I have a challenging outing, I work to realize that my children sometimes need to cry because they don’t have three decades of practice in expressing their feelings verbally. When I feel like I haven’t had enough adult interaction, I give thanks that my kids want to talk to me, to be around me, to learn from everything I say and do. I sigh both because I am tired (what mom isn’t?) and I am content (what could be better than watching lives mold and unfold?) Though I have hours in this job that are lonely, I would choose this job, choose my children, choose this chance to never be alone. Motherhood is not easy, but it is so incredibly worth it. I thank God for my children and the chance to be this exhausted, overwhelmed, understimulated, and underpaid. For in this job, I am also energized, overcome with joy, inspired, and compensated beyond my wildest dreams.

Toddler Time

There is something about a toddling tot, a wobbly walker, which makes you start seeing that your baby isn’t a baby anymore. That is the case at our house, for Lily has turned in her bare feet for walking shoes, has given up stroller sitting for eager exploration, has tested our home for baby proofness and tested the limits of just how high and far she’s allowed to wander now that she has two capable legs and a mind of her own. Last month, I had a sweet baby girl. This month, it’s toddler time, and I am just trying to keep up. It’s easy to be excited, hard not to be nostalgic, and honestly, extremely exhausting. My days consist of accident management, of trying to minimize bruising while allowing discovery. It’s wonderful to see her learn about the world, but I am very grateful she waited until fifteen months to walk across a room, as I find this stage a challenge. I waiver between hovering and holding her back and letting go and letting her bruise. It’s a tough balancing act. She is fearless, trying to make her way up rock climbing walls at the park, to attempt anything she sees big sister do, and to keep up with kids three times her size. In many ways, this is an incredible age. I get to finally see more of what my child is thinking, where she wants to go of her own accord, how she will react when confronted with new experiences that she can run toward or run away from. On the other hand, I have to discipline more, set boundaries, and teach her how to react in a way that is kind toward herself and others. It is no small task, and it makes me remember when I had a small lump who mostly needed snuggles and unconditional love. Somehow, I forget that those snuggles often occurred at 3:00 a.m. When I think of how exhausting it is to start a new job, learn a sport for the first time, or do something outside of my comfort zone, I am absolutely in awe of what it must be like to be little Lily. Much of her day consists of trying to acquire a new skill, learning how a new procedure works, and working to make sense out of something that forces her to grow. No wonder babies need a lot of sleep, easily cry in frustration, and seem to swing from a smile to a scream in a second. Toddler time is tiring! Although exhausting, it is also exhilarating to watch. Along with being on the move, Lily has so many other fun new skills. She is adorable pretend playing with her big sis. Emma will ask her to “come play grocery store,” and she will quickly go to her assigned seat in our living room, sit in a tiny area between the back of a chair and the wall, and pretend to go to the grocery store. Her vocabulary is rapidly expanding along with her imagination. She will hold a play phone or any object up to her ear and say “hu-llo” in the most adorable accent. When holding a baby, she snuggles and pats it and says, “bah-bee.” She quickly picks up upon cues when people are leaving and says, “buh-bye.” I showed her my ankle this morning, and then she pointed at her own, saying, “ankle.” When we sit down at a meal, she folds her hands and says, “Ah-men” while smiling proudly, seeming to feel that she has declared the meal ready to commence. She points at hair bows and says, “bow,” runs to Daddy with an exuberant “dada!,” and says countless other words, including the one that makes Grandpa very proud and Grandma a bit envious: “Gram-pa.” I love to watch her awareness grow. After we left big sister at preschool on the second day, we got back in the minivan. Lily looked over at her sister’s empty side of the minivan, and I could see her deep in thought. I thought that she was missing her sister and going to say “Emma,” but instead, she said, “backpack.” I laughed as I realized that she was commenting that Emma took the backpack with her. She understands many commands now and helps clean up when I tell her she has to put books and toys back. She is beginning to enjoy books even more, looking at them on her own for longer than she is willing to look at them with me. Her favorites are touch and feel and lift the flap books. She continues to smile a lot, cry if she gets her feelings hurt, recover quickly from injury after declaring “boom! boom!,” and generally burn so many calories in a given day that it seems she will never reach the elusive twenty pounds. As tiring as this age is for both of us, I wouldn’t trade it for any other. It is a gift to watch a human being grow from the time she was too tiny to see inside of me to the time when she is too big to sit still any more. It is toddler time at our house, and I am yawning from exhaustion but never from boredom. In short, life is good.