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.

First Day Fun

We did it! Emma and I made it through her first day (actually hour) of preschool. There were three bouts of tears, all of them mine, though I did not let her see me cry. I was also very proud of her…that, I let her see as much as possible. Our morning started with me explaining to her that there would be lots of moms and dads there this morning, and it might seem loud and busy, but after a few minutes, the parents would go, and it would be just the kids and teachers like it is at church or ballet. She didn’t say much. Then, when she and I were alone in the bathroom before we left, she said, “Mommy, when there are a lot of people when we get there, Lily will cry because she will be scared. I won’t cry, though. I don’t cry anymore because I’m a big girl.” Though we do still have tears regularly, I figured this was her self-talk, so I just listened and wondered what the coming hour would bring. Shortly after this, we loaded into the minivan and drove to pick up Daddy at work. As soon as he got in the minivan, Emma explained to him, “There are going to be lots of people there when we get there, all the mommies and daddies, but in four minutes, they will go, and then it will be calmer.” He looked at me, and we both smiled, thinking maybe she was more prepared for this than we thought.

 

When we got to the school, the first two families we saw were familiar faces, always comforting. We stopped for a quick family picture. Then, as we entered the school, I felt the tears coming for the second time. The first time had been before the girls got up. I quickly looked away and got them under control. Then, we headed down the hall to the preschool lockers. A friend of mine described it as paparazzi, and it definitely had that feel. Cameras, video cameras, and excited but nervous parents abounded. Each three-year-old was standing against the locker bearing his or her name. Emma quickly identified hers by herself, placed her backpack inside, and then backed against her locker as if it had super glue-like properties. I think it was her island of relative tranquility in the chaos. Conant took pictures, I took video, and we both gave her encouraging smiles. Lily wore her “Little Sister” shirt in support. Emma had on a new dress and leggings for the big day and her hair was in the neatest piggy tales I could manage this morning. Emma saw two of her friends there, and she stood next to another little girl with her same name.

 

In the few minutes that the kids waited in the hall for school to start, Emma remained quite somber, taking it all in and sticking close to her locker. I think she was summoning all of her strength to remain brave. Then, her teacher came over and told all of the kids to “fly like butterflies” into the classroom. Emma began flapping her wings, “flying” away from us and into the safe cocoon of her classroom. Her teacher and assistant seem so loving, the classroom so bright and cheery, that I felt like she was landing in very capable hands. Conant, Lily, and I watched her through the doorway. She went and sat in a circle just like the other kids, listening intently to her new teacher. We walked to the van. I told Conant, “I feel like I just left a part of me in that school” as we drove away. After dropping him off at work, I headed back to the school, as they only stayed an hour today. When Lily and I were alone in the car, I began to think about how blessed I am that we have Emma at all, given the complications of my other pregnancies. Then I began crying again, praying that she would be taken care of whether I am around or not. We waited outside of the classroom when it was time for pick up, and Emma was one of the first ones to come out. She proudly showed me her hand. She said, “Look, Mama, I got a s…sss…it’s not a sticker, it’s a staple.” I looked down, and it was a stamp of a smiling sun. She has never seen stamps before, so she was pretty excited. I was just glad no one had stapled her hand. Next, she told me about her friend who had cried because she missed her mommy. I took a picture of her with her friend and then with her teacher, and we prepared to go. On the way out, I had her quickly take me in the classroom. When I asked her what her favorite part of the room was, she said, “the books.” I looked over at the books and noticed that the teaching assistant was putting some handprint paintings away. Emma is not a fan of getting messy, so I wondered how that went. The teachers told me that she did really well, but she was very careful to wash her hands meticulously after the paint. I breathed a sigh of relief. My baby really is growing up.

 

We left school and drove to get a treat to celebrate. Emma chose to get two tiny warm donuts at the farmer’s market, and I picked out a flower for my sweet preschooler. When we got home, she called her Grandma to tell her about her day. It was amazing to hear about her life apart from me, and I was grateful that she is so articulate and willing to share the details. Today was tougher on me than on Emma, but I feel very fortunate that she is in a loving school with a teacher that seems so devoted to the kids. If Emma can dip her hand in paint on the very first day of school, she can do absolutely anything. I can hardly wait to see all that she does, learns, and tells us this school year.

Preschool Ponderings

I have been the teacher standing with excitement, waiting to meet the students who will soon become my passion to support, to encourage, to grow, to educate. I have been absolutely honored as parents trust me with their most precious gifts, their children. What I haven’t been—until now—is the parent, having to let go, to trust another educator with the baby I held when she was 5 lbs., 12 oz., 20 inches long, skinny limbs and flailing arms and wailing voice…the baby that I held through hours of crying, through moments of discovery…the child that I have spent each day with, left my profession for, poured my heart into. When I went to the parent meeting for Emma’s school, all I could think of is how tiny and helpless she was as a newborn, curled up to gain much needed nutrition from me, how innocent and sweet she looks now, curled up with books each night the way some kids snuggle their favorite blanket or stuffed animals. I could only think of how precious she is to me, of the music of her laughter and the sparkle in her eye as she tries to make me laugh. I know she is not perfect, but she is absolutely priceless to me, and it hurts to let go. Still, I know that this is her time to begin to discover who she is when I am not there, how she will shine and struggle when she is one of many instead of my one and only 3 ½-year-old. I am saying prayers for her, hoping that she will be met with kindness and encouragement, that as she is refined by her peers and her teachers, she will stay confident in her significance but open to growth, to new knowledge, to healthy friendships. I know that this is the beginning of a much longer journey in her life, and I hope she feels me beside her, cheering her on even when she can’t hear my voice. If her sensitive heart begins to strengthen, let it be to help her have even happier days without losing her kindness toward others. If her knowledge grows, let her stay humble yet aware of all that is possible for her. If new friendships bloom, let her learn from others without losing what makes her beautifully unique. And as I parent her, let her know that I am always here while I let her go so that she may healthily grow. Let me rediscover the passions that make me no less her mother but more someone who is capable of stepping back when that is what she needs. May we both grow this school year, may the bond that we feel change but stay strong, may we both discover all that she will do when I finally let go of her hand and trust another educator with a gift that I have been given but cannot keep. I love you, my sweet Emma Grace, and I am so proud of you already.

Last Laughs of Summer

Three-and-a-half is turning out to be such a fun(ny) age. Three started out a bit tough, but now that we’ve settled in, there are definitely more smiles from Emma, more laughs from me, and generally more days of fun rather than frustration. I can hardly believe that Emma is starting preschool in two days, but that’s a whole different blog filled with an entirely different set of emotions. For this entry, I just want to reflect on some of the last laughs of summer she generously supplied in the past week. She told Daddy about her feelings for sister: “I love Lily, Daddy. Sometimes I don’t like her very much, but I really love her.” The truth can be pretty funny. Isn’t that how we all feel about those closest to us? The other night, I was trying to get ready for the parent meeting at Emma’s preschool, and Conant was still at work. The girls were playing in Emma’s room, so I nervously told Emma, “Please just leave your door closed so Lily stays in your room and safe from the stairs. I will take a very quick shower and be right back.” I hurried from a short shower back to Emma’s room to check on them. Emma was sitting and reading a story to her sister, but she stopped to give me a full report: “Lily didn’t cry for me at all, Mommy. She was a good listener.” I hadn’t asked her to baby-sit, as I didn’t want to put that kind of responsibility on her, but I guess she had felt the seriousness of the task at hand anyway and was very proud of how well things had gone in the short time I was in the bathroom. I felt so proud as I watched her nurture and care for her little sis, and I had to giggle at her behavior report. Recently, Emma was pretending to have a birthday party complete with cake. Before she could pretend eat, she folded her hands and solemnly said, “Dear God, thank you for this cake. Please make us yummy. Amen.” Actually, I think both Emma and cake are pretty yummy, so it was a perfect prayer, but funny nonetheless. As we were riding two hours and fifteen minutes to see Emma’s great-grandparents, she said, “I have to go potty.” I replied, “Okay, there’s a place to stop in five minutes.” To this, she quickly responded, “But I don’t want to go in a no-touch potty, Mommy.” The van erupted in laughter. I’ve told her to not touch anything in a public restroom stall, to which she always responds, “But can I touch you, Mommy?” Then I say, “Yes, Emma, I am the only thing you can touch.” I guess this is why she has now dubbed restrooms we must use en route “no-touch potties.” She was hoping she could use the emergency little potty in the minivan instead. Sorry if I’ve made you a germaphobe, honey. As we arrived in the town where her great-grandparents live, we met them at a restaurant. After eating lunch there, we buckled the girls back in to make the short trip from the restaurant to the house. As we pulled out of the parking lot, Emma said, “That was yummy pizza, but that was a looooong way to go for a restaurant.” She hadn’t understood that we drove that far to see family, not just to eat at Pizza Hut. I can imagine that she might have been thinking that there is one of those a few minutes from our house. While we visited Grandpa and Grandma this weekend, my dad brought her out to pick up apples on the farm. After they had collected the apples, he handed her two to carry in the house. When they arrived at the house, she handed him back the apples. One of them had two big bites missing…a little taste testing for her hard work, I guess. How I love my precious Emma Grace and the laughter she brings to our lives. She is sunshine and giggles and sweetness and warmth. We are blessed and richer and stretched and more alive because we have been given her as a daughter.

Brunch and Buy

Life with two little ones is wonderful and busy, and for the most part wonderfully busy. Still, there are times that I wish for special time with each of my special girls. Today, I got that wish. Conant is home on vacation, so Emma and I had a much anticipated mommy / daughter date. We have been waiting for a chance to go and buy her preschool supplies, so today’s date was the event of the year: “Brunch and Buy.” It started with a delicious brunch at The Machine Shed, Emma’s favorite restaurant. Usually she shares my meal with me, but today she got to order her own meal. She chose the Future Farmer breakfast (funny, since this week she told me she is going to be a farmer and a doctor when she grows up). She had hash brown casserole, bacon, scrambled eggs, and an English muffin. I had pancakes, and we gladly shared with each other. Pancakes are one of her favorite treats. I was very proud of my adorable date. She had chosen one of her nicest dresses, and she also used her finest manners. The waiter told her that she had the best manners of any kid he had seen all day. I was proud of my soon to be preschooler, and she sat up a little taller after her compliment. I probably did, too, as I knew she was trying to make it a special time for us and the other diners, and I appreciated her efforts. On the way out of the restaurant, she got to sit on the tractor displayed outside. Normally I wouldn’t have tried this alone with both girls, but today I could say “yes” more often than “no.” After brunch, we headed to Target to tackle her preschool list. She enjoyed picking out the supplies even though they will all be turned in to be used by the whole class. As a treat, she got to pick out one special folder to keep at home. She chose Dora and Boots and has been carrying it around off and on since. The highlight of Target for her was getting to walk beside the cart rather than ride in it. For weeks she has been telling me she’s too big to ride in the cart, but I don’t feel like I can handle the two girls and my shopping if they are not safely contained in the cart. Today, Emma walked proudly as the semi-independent, almost three-and-a-half-year-old that she knows she is meant to be, and I could (mostly) concentrate on my shopping. As our "Brunch and Buy" concluded, we both said how much fun we had had, and I promised myself that we would try to schedule another date soon. For our family, having two girls is the most precious gift we could have been given, but for today, I am thankful for the rare present of one-on-one time with my first-born. As she starts a new chapter of her life, I want to be here observing each milestone with her so that she knows that school is something to get really excited about, and she is someone who is very much worth celebrating.

Gratitude Generates Generosity

My girls both look forward to breakfast time from the moment they first wake in the morning. Tuesday, Lily had her Cheerios while she was waiting for her oatmeal to cool off. Emma was going potty and missed the Cheerios portion of breakfast, so after oatmeal, she had her Cheerios. Of course, this did not seem fair to fourteen-month-old Lily. She had long since forgotten that she had already eaten her Cheerios. All she saw was that big sis was getting a treat after oatmeal and she was not. She cried, and I saw Emma’s wheels turning. Pretty soon, Emma began very meticulously analyzing the cereal remaining on her plate. After carefully scrutinizing things, she picked up the most anemic, sad looking, can’t-believe-it-made-it-through-quality-control, skinny little “O” that I’ve ever seen and brought it over to Lily. Still, I was happy that Emma was showing compassion when the three-year-old concept of fairness said she did not need to share. Lily squealed with absolute delight, rejoicing that not only was she now in possession of the coveted snack, but that her very cool big sister had given it to Lily herself. Looking at Lily’s beaming face and listening to her sounds of gratitude, Emma got a thoughtful look on her face, broke into a grin, and said, “Look, Mommy. It made her so happy!” With that, Emma returned to her plate to do some more considered sorting. She seemed to use the same care in choosing as she had the first time, and then I saw her pick up another of the Cheerios to share with little sis. This time, though, it was the most robust, healthy, super jumbo sized “O” that you can imagine, truly the most plentiful one on her plate. I felt a warmth come over me as I saw the selflessness shine in Emma and the gratitude glimmer in Lily’s eyes. Sometimes in motherhood, I learn such lessons from my children. As Emma saw her little sister’s gratitude, the generosity in her heart grew, inspiring a greater kindness than either of us could have anticipated. Often, when we can step away from our own concept of fairness and give even a little to someone who may not “deserve it,” we see the positive impact it has, and we are the ones inspired toward even more altruistic acts of generosity. Though it may be idealistic, having children helps me recall the idealism of my own youth. Generosity has the opportunity to inspire gratitude, gratitude just might generate greater generosity, and that same generosity could give others the gift of a grateful heart. What a wonderful cycle in a family, in a community, in a world. I was given a reminder of this lesson from the two littlest people in my world. And for that, I am very grateful.

The Ups and Downs of Parenting

Last Monday, the girls and I were headed home from an overnight at Grandpa and Grandma’s. We were thirty minutes from home when I heard a terrible sound come from Lily’s car seat. Around the same time that that unmistakable odor reached me at the driver’s seat, big sis Emma asked, “Why is there so much spit up, Mommy?” At that moment, I knew that it wasn’t spit up covering Lily. It was one of many firsts I get to experience with my girls…the first time either of them had thrown up. Of course, there was no where to pull over, and the smell was enough to make me concerned for Lily and the clean up mission ahead while simultaneously wanting to toss my own cookies. It seemed like a very long couple of miles of worrying about Lily before I found our first opportunity to pull over, the state police headquarters. Picture an avalanche of vomit covering the cutest little peanut literally from head to car seat to van seat to van floor to toys to blankets to…You get the picture. Then, picture this. I have stripped the clothes off of my fourteen month old, am using about a dozen baby wipes to try to scrub her down and get her car seat buckles vomit-free enough to put her back in the seat and drive the remaining half an hour home when a kind officer pulls up. He looks from an undressed, rough looking Lily to an in-over-my-head, even rougher looking me and kindly suggests that I take her in to the sink inside. I look at Emma, still calmly in her car seat and look at Lily, almost ready to go back in hers, and explain to him that with two kids, it would be easier to just head home to clean up more thoroughly. He looked perplexed, perhaps never having had a three-year-old and vomit-prone one-year-old in state police headquarters by himself before. He assured me that it was a secure area…that’s not really what I was worried about. I buckled Lily and myself back in, rolled down my windows, hit the air conditioning to get things circulating, and headed toward home. The smell made me almost wish the officer would follow me, pull me over, and escort me back to the previously offered sink, but after twenty-eight minutes of my stomach rolling, poor Lily crying, and Emma just taking it all in, we arrived at home. I pulled the van in, unloaded Emma and our baggage, and prepared for clean up. By this time, Emma was bored with the whole thing and went inside to read. I held Lily as I worked to clean up the wreckage, and as I began to make substantial progress, I heard the dreaded noise again. I can be taught, and this time only a small pool collected on the van floor before I ran to the grass and had her finish adding her nutrients to Daddy’s lawn. After this, she seemed quite happy and sat buckled in her little red car next to the van while I continued clean up. As much as I wanted to wait, the oppressive heat was not going to make that a good choice. I decided that Britax car seats may be wonderful for safety but are missing one critical feature…the self-cleaning option. The instructions for removing a car seat cover made me want to cry for an aerospace engineer. Alas, he was working late, so we made do. The clean up effort continued throughout the night. After the van, I moved on to the toddler, who I think was as relieved as I was to have herself smelling fresh and clean again. Next, I tackled the laundry. Lily had thrown up an impressive amount for an adult. Seriously, it was like three days worth of food, and over half of it was covering her clothing and sleep sacks. She rebounded so quickly, though, I almost thought I had imagined her illness. Had she overeaten? Was she car sick? She was giving her characteristic “num num num” (i.e. “feed me, please) noise within ten minutes of getting sick. I learned the answer 2 ½ days later when Conant returned home from work at 6:45 a.m. with the same illness. Now knowing that it was contagious, I decided to have a talk with Emma. I explained to her that sometimes people’s tummies feel funny, and then they throw up. Lily doesn’t know where to throw up, so she does it all over. If that happens, it’s okay, we just clean it up. However, when you’re really big like Mommy or Daddy, you throw up in the toilet. Emma listened carefully, taking it in, but I was afraid of what might happen if she ended up sick. Even more than dreading a second clean up effort, I thought that it might totally frighten her, as she tends to take things to heart. Still, she seemed to think it was pretty amazing that this thing had happened to Daddy and Lily. Though I was very sick during my pregnancy with Lily, I never let her watch me get sick, so the mini-van experience had been truly eye opening for her. At dinnertime, Emma decided she didn’t want to eat. I went up to the bedroom and told Conant, “I’m worried.” Have I mentioned that Emma loves to eat? He was worried, too. I hurried back downstairs. Emma was standing by her plate, and she decided to take a bite. I could tell by the expression on her face what was about to happen. I calmly walked her to the bathroom. She leaned over the toilet and had her first experience throwing up. As she threw up, I said in an excited voice, “Look at you! You’re throwing up just like Daddy and Lily. You did it in the toilet just like Daddy.” When she finished, there were no tears. She was proud. Two minutes later, she was jumping around, playing and feeling fine. I was flushing the remnants of afternoon snack down our sewer system. It was so easy, I felt almost guilty. Then I remembered Monday and decided maybe it all evened out. Either way, I was so proud of my three-year-old and her excellent technique. The next morning, I woke up as the sick one. It’s tough not to be able to take a sick day when you’re feeling rough and have two active kids to keep up with, but now that I’m feeling better, that’s just a memory. Whether I’m cleaning up the biggest mess or flushing down the proudest throw up moment our family has had, the ups and downs of parenting make certain that there is no such thing as a dull day or a forgotten first.