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.

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.