Birthday Girl

Our precious Emma Grace is about to turn five. Each morning, she tells me how many days until her birthday. Last year, I had to tell her each day how much longer she still had to wait. This year, she started the countdown on her own. So many things about her have grown and matured. She is reading simple early readers with just a bit of help, counting past one hundred, and excitedly writing letters, words, and numbers. Beyond her academic learning, for which I am grateful, are the life skills that make me even more proud. She has always been a sweetheart, but her loving nature is expanding as she gets older. She thinks of other people, seeks to help those that are less fortunate, tries to be considerate of others’ feelings, attempts to cheer up those who are sad, plays beautifully with her little sister most of the time, often shows appreciation toward others, and is respectful to her teachers at school. At this point, she is a rule follower. She wants to do the right thing, often being harder on herself than I need to be on her. She loves going to school and adores her teachers and the other kids. It has been fun to watch her social confidence grow. She giggles heartily, a wonderful addition to her sometimes serious nature. Her sense of humor has blossomed, and she loves to joke with those she feels comfortable around. Of course, whatever her demeanor, we adore her. At school, her self-proclaimed favorite thing is snack, though she also talks about her teachers and friends quite a bit. Her favorite special is gym (physical education), followed by library and Spanish. In her downtime, she still loves books and spends a long time reading them most days. Usually, she still reads from memory or makes up the stories as she goes along. She also enjoys pretend play with her doll house. Imaginary play with her sister (playing doctor, preschool, and restaurant) are some of her most giggle-filled moments. Happily, she still loves to snuggle with me and listen to the Little House chapter books. I am thankful for these sweet sessions together. She continues to very much look forward to visits from her grandparents, absolutely loves when they read to her, play with her, and take her out to eat. She thoroughly enjoys food, sleeps well at night, and spends her time in a nice mix of sitting quietly to read, draw, or write and running around and being silly, like the carefree preschooler that she is. She is also learning to work toward a goal. She has seen many of her friends excitedly receive American Girl dolls, and she has hoped for one of her own. We wanted to teach her the value of hard work, so she has been working toward earning the doll by unloading the dishwasher for 20 cents, putting away the whole family’s laundry for 25 cents, hanging up coats for a penny each, and other odd jobs that pay far below minimum wage when done at the pace of a four-year-old. She still does her regular jobs as just part of her family responsibility, but she is learning a lot from having to do extra work and seeing how much it takes to buy such a special doll. Lucky for her, she also gets to put her birthday money toward the doll, so she should get it before 2013. ;-P Recently, she was so excited that a store had sent her a gift card in the mail for her birthday. She talked about it for days. When we finally went to the store so that she could pick something out, she said that she really wanted to get something for her baby boy cousin, due to arrive this summer, declaring that he doesn’t have anything yet (still being in the womb and all), and she already has some things. Earlier that same day, after I threw her class a Valentine’s Day party with another room mom, I asked her what her favorite part of the party was. She loves to eat, so I thought she’d say snack. Instead, she looked up at me, smiled, and said, “Just being with you, Mom.” There are many moments in motherhood that are exhausting and challenging, but I have been making a concerted effort lately to dwell in these other moments, the times when she melts my heart with her generosity toward others or her kindness toward me. She still whines like any almost-five-year-old, sometimes gets frustrated with her little sister, often melts down over seemingly minor details, and doesn’t always complete her chores as quickly as I would like, but she is healthy, curious, and one of the kindest human beings I know. I am so grateful and proud to call her my daughter, and I want her to know that now and always. I have been beyond blessed to be given my priceless Emma Grace. So, it is with much happiness and deep emotion that I celebrate her turning five, understanding that she will continue to surprise, challenge, amaze, and impact me in ways I never could have imagined before I became her mother. I thank God for my Emma Grace.

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.

 

Four Year Old Dreams: A Letter to Emma Grace

Today was a big day for you, Emma Grace. This morning, you had a Thanksgiving program at school, and you sang so well and confidently. Daddy, Lily, and I were really proud of you up there. Then, this afternoon, the day got even more memorable. You have been close to reading for a long time, but I have been so determined to keep your joy for books alive, to avoid frustration by not pushing you too soon, that I have been staying away from reading lessons. Today, we decided to try together, and you started to recognize sight words, sound out most of the other words, and read several early reader stories with a little help. You were so excited by your new skill. We are reading simple books together, but you are doing wonderfully, and I am so proud of you. Tonight, as I snuggled you before bed, I told you that even when you are Mommy’s age, you will always be my baby. You began to tell me of your dreams for the future. You said you will still live with me when you are in your thirties. I explained that Daddy and I don’t live with our parents anymore, and you likely won’t, either. I said you’d probably have your own house and could make your own decisions. As you thought about that, you told me what you think your life will look like. Below is a close approximation of the exact words you said. I thought you would enjoy looking back on this someday when you’ve lived a few decades and have seen how your life has begun to unfold. Here is what you said: I will have a boy, a girl, and another boy. (I asked you if you were having three kids.) You said, “Yes,” and then proceeded to describe them a bit. The one boy will have brown hair. The other boy will have blonde hair, and the girl will have, um, brown hair, too. I will live on a farm. (I asked you who would do all of the work.) You got a big smile and said, “I will have a husband.” (I then asked you if he would do all of the work, wondering if that is what you were implying with your smile.) You said, “No, I will help, too.” You told me more about your farm. I will have a pet. I will have a dog and a cat. I will have bales of hay down the hill and a weeder (you meant feeder :-)) for the birds with food in it. I will have geese. I will have cows, too. (Aside from the geese, you are describing Grandpa and Grandma’s farm, your four-year-old vision of a dream life. It will be fun to see if this is what you continue to want as you get older. As I listened to your hopes, I told you that it sounds like you will have a very busy house, filled with three kids and lots of animals. I said that I will love to visit you in your busy home.) I love you so much, my favorite four-year-old. I am proud of you for having new skills and big dreams. Often, things happen differently from our childhood plan. I wanted to name my kids “Kiki” and “Orgis” when I was your age. :-) Still, it’s great to have an imagination and a sense of hope for your future. You, my Emma, are beyond my wildest dreams. I am so thankful that no matter what my plan was when I was four, I got wonderful you. I couldn’t have dreamed big enough to know that I was going to get to be your mommy.

Remember Me?

About a month ago, I was struggling for energy, patience, and resiliency. I realized that, in trying to love my children well over the past nearly five years, I have often forgotten myself. I can’t really complain. I certainly know others that have it much worse than I do. Most of my self-neglect has been self-inflicted. I’ve read the same articles that everyone else has, reminding us to take care of us first. I’ve heard the warnings about putting on your own oxygen mask before assisting others. Still, my strong desire to be the best mom possible (which is still quite an imperfect mom anyway) had, after almost half a decade, left me without reserves to handle some of the everyday challenges involved with raising small children. I pray each morning to be the best wife and mother that I can be, but I finally recognized that I needed to remember to take care of me if I wanted to take care of those I love most. I talked it over with my husband, who was in complete agreement and support (very lucky me.) So, I decided to make some pledges to myself. I would begin to exercise regularly so that I had the energy to keep up with the kids. I know, I am making it about them again, but these are baby steps, and it truly is my deep desire to be all I can for them. I joined a local gym and started working out and going to classes. I think both psychologically and physiologically, this had dramatic effects. It said to me, “You are important enough to take care of you,” and it really did give me hugely increased energy levels and a sense of looking forward to both my time away from my family and subsequently my time with them. The gym even has treadmills with individual TVs…what could be more decadent to a mom of little ones? I did not begin the gym thing casually. I went every other night, taking classes that were labeled “intermediate” to “advanced.” My whole body ached the first week and a half, but my heart felt lighter. My husband has been incredible about increasing his responsibility with the kids in addition to his work responsibilities. He loves the results of a more content, alive, engaged me. I have to say, I love them, too. My next promise was to get more sleep. Honestly, I am still struggling with this one. I stay up too late at night given that I have to get the girls up and ready for Emma’s preschool in the morning. When I do get to bed early, I experience increased patience the next day. Still, it is hard to turn in early when I know that that is my me time or our couple time. This one is a work in progress. I also decided to cut myself some parenting slack. Potty training was making wonderful progress here, but then the progress stopped and regressed, and it was becoming too stressful on everyone. I gave myself permission to say that this is a developmental step, and we just aren’t there yet. Letting that one go for now made my days and my moods much less messy, and I’m pretty sure my two-year-old is happier now, too. Finally, I made the huge leap to say that it was okay to have fun without my children. This was tough, (it even looks rather ugly in print to me here), but it had huge pay offs. Conant was gone on a business trip and called home to tell me he needed to go on another one, to sunny California. I had had a rougher than usual week at home alone with the kids, culminating that night with an incredibly messy scene that required much clean up. I won’t go into details, but it was my breaking point. I told him I really didn’t want to be left again so soon. He invited me to go with him. I laughed. Then, my wheels started turning. We had a flight voucher. Here was a very inexpensive vacation at a nice hotel in California. We could add on a free night at another nice hotel with points, and we were a ten minute walk from Disneyland. My parents checked their schedules and generously agreed to give the girls their own vacation on the farm. I wrote a note to each girl for each morning, wrapped them up a small gift for each day (a craft, a game, or a snack so they knew we were thinking of them), and packed us up for our trips. Conant and I had an incredible time embarking on an adventure together. Though he had to work all but the last day, we had amazing meals together, walked on the beach, and experienced sunset over the ocean.

 

Disneyland was the perfect blend of no responsibility and enjoying one another’s company. It was such a gift to our marriage. Which, ironically, is a gift to the children we left behind. I felt so guilty thinking of going to Disneyland without our kids. Before I even met Conant, I had been to Disney in Florida, in France, and in Japan. I love the magic of Disney, but it was hard to think of going without the girls. Before we left, Emma asked, “Is there a Disney in California? Are you going there?” I nervously told her, “Yes,” but she simply replied with happiness for me. I am grateful for girls with such big hearts. From the moment I stepped on Disney grounds, I felt like skipping. I thought, “This really is the Happiest Place On Earth!” Ride after ride, princess after princess, parade float after parade float, I couldn’t help but smile. I was there, having an amazing time, with my best friend.

 

We took the first flight home Monday morning so that we could take our Supergirls out for Halloween at night.

 

Throughout the trip, I called them a few times a day, but on Monday, I couldn’t wait to get my arms around them. When I saw them for the first time in five days Monday afternoon, they both snuggled on my lap with their arms wrapped around my neck. In that moment, I realized that Disneyland was incredible, but MY “Happiest Place On Earth” was my very own living room, with those four sweet little arms hugging their mommy. I was recharged, refreshed, and filled with a renewed appreciation for all that I have been given. After embarking on my own “Remember Me?” campaign, I am more fit in body, mind, and spirit, and I am more grateful than ever for the little ones that bring love and laughter to our home and to this mom. Maybe there is something to that oxygen mask metaphor after all.0

     

Friday Family Fun

Today is Friday, and that means it’s almost time for “Friday Family Fun” at our house. Each Friday night, we have family game or movie night. We take turns being the person who picks the activity. Last week, Emma chose to play Animal Bingo. This week, Lily is up to pick, and she’s having fun keeping us all wondering what we will be doing tonight. Like many two-year-olds, she changes her mind every few minutes. It’s all part of the fun. I love that we have this time, not because I want to play Candy Land or watch Barney one more time, but because I am thrilled that the four of us look forward to hanging out together. I know that the years ahead will bring times when our kids will pick peer time over parent time, but I’m hoping that we can continue some version of “Friday Family Fun” for a long time to come. Along those same lines, I think forward to the years when our girls will date and hope to plan ahead so that they already have their attention, love, and acceptance tanks full and know how they should be treated (and how to treat others with kindness and respect.) Plus, I want each of them to have one-on-one time where they feel like they are so special that we can’t wait to spend time with each one of them. So, each month, we have Daddy / Daughter and Mommy / Daughter dates. Last month, I took Emma to the movie Winnie the Pooh and school supply shopping for our Mommy / Daughter date, and Conant took Lily to Monkey Joe’s bounce house for her first Daddy / Daughter date. Lily was so excited to be deemed big enough to start her dates, and she has talked about it for weeks after. It’s not just for the kids, either. I absolutely love my Mommy / Daughter dates, so grateful that I get a chance to enjoy each of my daughters for the unique, precious girls they were created to be…such a privilege to have special time to focus on each one of them. And the sheer number of pictures C took of Lily at Monkey Joe’s shows how proud he was of his cute little date.

 

All this talk of the girls growing has me ready to share the latest and greatest news at our house: we are almost diaperless. I adore babies, but I feel like I have washed enough diapers and wiped enough bottoms at this point, and I am so proud of Lily’s progress on the potty. I was inspired to train her by Emma, who got her to sit and go on the potty one day when they were pretend playing. A few days later, I started the effort to train her, deciding that if Emma could do it, I probably should, too. Potty training continues to be a task that stresses me out greatly, causing me to feel exhausted and defeated in the early days, but there have been high points, too. Lily loves when we sing her, “It’s My Potty, and I’ll Cry If I Want To” as she sits on the potty, and I can’t help but smile when Conant, Emma, Lily, and I all take turns singing our parts. Life with kids brings such different joys, but they are priceless ones, filled with celebration over poop landing in the right spot, songs that are rewritten to serve purposes like potty revelry, and cheers written for the sole purpose of motivating our kids to learn something new and make them smile while doing it. Lily has been doing so well, and while she was learning to use the potty, she also decided to start dressing herself. Although we have some unintended “Backwards Days,” she takes so much pride in “I do it” that it’s more celebration than sighs. The girls have continued to be great playmates. I love to watch them together and am glad that they play mostly harmoniously after a lot of bickering at the beginning of the summer. We have charts that we do each day, and Lily reminds herself to “Be kind and gentle” and Emma says things like, “I wasn’t having a cheerful attitude, was I?” It’s really helped them start to monitor their own behavior. Though they are still kids and I am definitely an imperfect mom, I am grateful to see how far they’ve come in showing consideration and generosity toward one another.

 

And though I admit to being a tired mama at least part of most days, I also feel like my cup overflows. The girls give me so many warm moments, and I thank God that I was given them to play with on “Friday Family Fun” nights, to take on Mommy / Daughter dates, to cheer on through milestones, and to see them become good buddies. Being a mom has so many highs, including the sound of a child’s glorious giggles and the sight of a triumphant face when a child accomplishes something for the first time. It also has its share of lows, like the sound of siblings screaming at each other over the same toy or the sight of a puddle forming on the floor. Today, I just wanted to step back from the ups and the downs and take a little time to record some of the ways we are enjoying the ride.

The Gift of Giving

Our church does a fantastic job of helping us in our goal to expand the girls’ local and worldview by highlighting needs in the community and globally. In the past year, Emma has worked hard on extra jobs around the house to earn money to help build a well in Africa and is currently trying to make money to help fix donated cars for people in need in our local community. I am grateful that we have a partner in trying to impress upon our kids that they have ways that they can help others even when they are little. We were on our way to church this past weekend, and Emma and I were thinking back to the need for clean water in Africa and then talking about people that don’t have cars to drive where we live, and how that can make it hard to get to work. She thought for a moment, and then, with all the purity of a four-year-old heart, said, “We have all the things, Mama.” She didn’t think about the 16-year-old TV that we just gave away or the 9-year-old TV with broken bunny ears that we still have. She didn’t wish for newer cars or a house with another bedroom. She simply saw that we have all the things we need. And she was right, we do have everyone and everything we need and more. And, in that moment, I saw the dual beauty in trying to raise generous givers. Not only do we hope to give the world two human beings who think of others in addition to themselves, but I also realized that with the help of our church, we are giving our daughters another gift. It is the ability to appreciate all that they have been generously blessed with, focusing on their own haves instead of have nots. And that is a gift that I deem priceless.

Sometimes You Just Have To Smile

We had the perfect morning. I stayed up too late last night getting some work done, and when I heard the first kid noises at 6-something this morning, I inwardly groaned. Then, amazingly, I rolled over and so did the little ones (in their own beds.) The next thing I knew, I woke up at 8:45 a.m. to silence and utter shock that a) I had slept that late and b) BOTH of my children had allowed me to on the same day. Emma has been waking up two hours before this morning’s rise and shine, and I have grown to expect it, but I was beyond thrilled at my luck. It was especially impressive when I discovered that there had been an extremely loud, turbulent storm while we all slept. We were supposed to go over to a good friend’s house for a play date, but she sent me a text that they had no power. We gladly had them over to our house, allowing us to not have to leave our house in our pjs to make it to theirs by 9:30 a.m. The kids and I both had a wonderful time with our friends, and by the time Conant came home to see us for lunch, I was practically flying from our morning. That’s when I made my big mistake…I told him, “I haven’t had a morning this easy in a long time. I slept in, we had a great time with good friends, and it’s been such a fun, relaxing day.” If you were watching a movie of my life, you would know that the other shoe was about to drop. And drop it did, though not in any horrible way. More in a slow, comical deterioration of the “easy” day I was quickly getting accustomed to after a few hours of bliss. It began as lunch was ending and Conant was headed out the door to a meeting. Typically, we eat brown rice. Today, as a special treat, we were eating white, sticky rice and vegetables for our lunch. Did I mention sticky? Now, I have to say that we have one very darling two-year-old, but she is two, and sometimes she exercises the right to act, well, her age. So, as lunch was finishing and my helpful hubby was headed out the door, she flung her still half-full plate under the table, sending small, very sticky, rice soldiers marching all around our kitchen. After making her “clean it up,” I began the real clean up, down on my hands and knees and crawling around like many parents of toddlers do after mealtime, though this time an extended version without the possibility of a broom or a vacuum to free those sticky guys from our tile floor. After I had gotten every last grain of rice, I vacuumed and mopped the floor for good measure. Next, I was really looking forward to getting some things done during nap time. Happily, Lily naps every afternoon, almost without fail. Well, given her late morning, she was not able to fall asleep. I took it in stride, knowing that the rare chance to sleep in was worth it. I continued through the day, realizing that our afternoon would seem longer without any down time, but feeling confident that I could handle whatever came my way after such a great night of sleep. So, some things came my way. First, Emma got out all of the ingredients to make homemade granola. I was impressed by her ambition and got off the phone with a friend to fully focus on our group baking session. Lily was wearing a brand new, white dress that had been a gift from Grandma and Grandpa, so I told her that she could only help if she wore an apron. At first, she refused, but then she let me put it on her. We began, me fully in the moment, off the phone, and enjoying baking with my girls. Again, the unpredictable twos struck. Lily grabbed the measuring cup that had Canola oil still in the bottom and, tilting her head back to try and get a taste, dumped it on top of her head. It just so happened that right before she did this, she ripped off her apron. Her new white dress and adorable curly brown hair were an oil slick, and she looked rather surprised at the turn of events. I’d like to say that I followed the plea of one of the cover stories from the Parents magazine that arrived in the mail today to “Be a More Mellow Mom.” (I haven’t read the article, but I’m pretty sure they don’t have a two-year-old sous chef.) Instead, I chose to be a “Use Your Child’s First, Middle, and Last Name Mom.” I took off the dress, applied degreaser, carried my oily cherub to the bath, and put her in as she cried over having to take off her “special dress from Grandma.” After I bathed her, she still looked like she could audition for Grease, but it was a mild improvement. At this point, though, between the loss of the treasured dress, the lack of a nap, and mommy’s use of her full name, she had gone into two-year-old tantrum mode. She was writhing and screaming, refusing to have her diaper put on, twenty-four pounds of disgruntled determination. I returned downstairs to four-year-old Emma, calmly began to mix the homemade granola with her, and then headed up a couple of minutes later to check on Lily. She still wasn’t ready, so I put her in time out for not listening, and went down to start pouring the granola into the pan. At this point, Lily came down, sat on her daddy’s kitchen chair and told me, “Ready for diaper now, Mama.” I was glad to hear it, and I told her as soon as I finished putting the granola in the pan, I would help her. For those of you who haven’t eaten with us and those of you who never will again, our kitchen chairs are covered in fabric. In the forty-five seconds that it took me to complete spreading the granola in the pan, Lily looked at me with much wonder and said, “Daddy chair all wet, Mama.” I looked down, and sure enough, there was a sizeable puddle on Daddy’s chair. I ran to the sink to get something to clean it up, scrubbed with all my might, washed my hands, put the granola in the oven, and diapered my two-year-old. At which point, Emma said, “Mama, I’ve been a really good listener today, haven’t I?” And then, I just had to smile, because she did help us have a brighter day, and she was two once, too. Two years ago, she was learning about life and rules and consequences as only a two-year-old could, and now that she is four, the need for urgent mid-day baths seems to have mostly passed. She still has her four-year-old moments, but they are somehow much less messy, require fewer mopping sessions, and less scrubbing. So, though I have to say that it wasn’t an easy afternoon, it was a memorable one. I will remember that having children is part adventure, part love, and part hard work. I will remember to not expect a freshly mopped floor to last for more than a few minutes. Most of all, I will remember that this, too, shall pass, and I might even long for the days of greasy brown curls on a cute little head. Though I’m pretty sure that I will also enjoy the days when both girls can mop the floor themselves, know not to dump Canola oil on their heads, and require no diapering whatsoever. Still, I’m in no hurry for that. I’m guessing more than the Canola oil, I will remember my favorite quote from earlier in the day. As Lily ran in terror while I vacuumed, I heard Emma over the roar of the vacuum bestow her big sister wisdom: “Don’t worry, Lily. Mama won’t vacuum you. She loves you.” Maybe I am a mellow mom after all, or even better, a mom with boundaries and unconditional love, even when things get sticky. At least, I hope that’s what my kids will remember.