Had a "mommy day" with the two-some today, in an effort to give Nat some uninterrupted stretches of time in which to work on the dissertation. It was a lovely, temperate and sunny day out and I took the crew out to the west side. An underwhelming visit to a resale event (kiddos were terrific there, really, but I think I am better off without kids OR the giant stroller when I actually want to shop) followed by the world's most idyllic visit to Rocky River Park wherein Jack played on the equipment, Ivy laid on a blanket, we picnicked on the grass and the lake was blue. We topped it off with a trip to Starbucks before coming home for some napping (for the kids) and cleaning (for me) and then off again to Target. A dinner of a frozen pizza and some Cars on the tube to close the day. Nice.
In talking with Nat we concluded together that its not really taking care of the kids that is the hard part. In fact, the little darlings are pretty easy to deal with, most of the time. As long as you are not trying to do anything ELSE while taking care of them. As long as their needs are paramount and they are your sole focus, all is fine. Its when you try to, say, clean the house or do something for yourself, like use the bathroom, that things get tricky. So my day today, on my own with the kids, was rather a lark, thanks to going into with the mindset that I would do nothing else besides spend the day with them and keep them out of the house.
Parenting would be a great deal easier and generally more fun, I think, if the rest of life would just stop getting in the way...
Add this to the "you know your baby is growing up when" list:
The boy no longer uses the term "choo choo house". He told me so. We were on our way to Eton place, to visit the train table at Barnes and Noble (previously termed "the other choo choo house") and I asked him if he wanted to go there before or after Trader Joe's. And he said, "NOT choo choo house, Mommy. Eton place!"
I never cease to be amazed and amused at the things that come out of the boy's mouth. And he is amazing these days, a full conversation partner with this amazing memory and adorable lapses of grammar that don't in the least affect comprehension of his message but rather make it more fun to listen to...
But this post is in honor of some things he's been saying for a while, the sort of things which seem like such a part of his repertoire that he'll say them forever. Except he won't say them forever. So here they are.
*Conversations about "minos": As we drive along, he (of course) point out every motorcycle he sees. Then, invariable he asks Nat, "Do you WANT it, dad? Do you want THAT mino??" And he likes for Nat to say yes, and then, every time, he says either, "But somebody else is riding it," (if it's being ridden" or "But somebody else is going to ride it" (if its parked) or "But somebody won't give you money for it" (if it's for sale). With the saddest, most sympathetic tone to his voice. Every time. Poor daddy, all the constant disappointment. At least he has Jack to console him.
To be continued. I have so much more to capture about him. As always. But bedtime calls. As always.
I felt it tonight, for real. That surge of almost indescribable love for the little one I've created. It was this way with Jack, too, I remember. I love them from the start, of course, and snuggle them and laugh at them and enjoy their squishy-ness and revel in the miracle of their existence, my little babies. But Ivy's felt like a stranger to me, almost, til now, an odd, vulnerable, generally appealing and sweet-smelling stranger in our home. I would catch myself studying her and wondering, "Are you really mine? Who are you? Who will you be?"
And who am I now, with you here?
The same questions that ran through my mind 3 years ago (though it is hard to connect with a time when the boy did not own my heart, completely and fully... by now it seems like he's been there forever....)
But tonight. Well, she's honing her cute-ness, you know, with the squeaky breath-catch at the end of her giggle and the eyelashes (oh, the eyelashes!) and the way she grabs onto my arm like its the only thing that's ever mattered to her. Wiggling her way deeper into that heart of mine, stretching and growing herself a space in there...
And then tonight. We are trying to do that thing where you "help" a baby learn to sleep by not picking her up when she wakes and cries. Otherwise known as "sit and listen to your baby cry for upwards of an hour, with short breaks wherein you pat and shush her as you listen to her cry." Good times. Right up there with the 7-plus times she's been waking at night recently. Just so you understand our decision to do this.
So, tonight. She'd finally settled herself after 40 minutes. Was quiet, and, I'd hoped, asleep... for about 20 minutes. Sigh. Crying again. I envisioned another hour at least, set the timer for 8 minutes, did some grading, then went in. Patted, shushed, then finally scooped up her little head in my hand and leaned down close and did my best impression of holding her without actually picking her little, sweaty self up. Because you know that's all she'd been wanting, to he held.
And the way she melted into me at that moment, the way she calmed and hiccuped a little and just sank into my arm, the way she turned her face against my hand and her breathing calmed and the way she is so little and wrapped like a burrito and so soft... I just stood there caught up in wonderment that this is her, the little person who I carried inside of me, the tiny baby who came out of my body and into the world, slippery and new. This little bundle of potential with the personality beginning to sparkle through-- this is my child. My daughter. And in that moment I knew her, and I felt it. That mama love. That feeling that my heart might burst and then the knowledge that it won't because its endless in there, because there is no limit to the love that I can feel for these children.
Children. Two of 'em. She's in there too, now. And there's plenty of room.
It's been a busy, busy weekend and in the midst of it Ivy has turned 18 weeks old. She has marked the occasion with the possible advent of teething and the definite advent of a horrible, horrible pattern of sleep. Seriously. Last night she was us about every 30 minutes between 2 and 5. Um. Really?
We are definitely hoping there is some biological cause for this-- a tooth, a cold, a growth spurt, perhaps all 3? Something, at least, that we can blame it on and something which will pass. Soon.
Other than the sleep issue and a definite increase in moodiness this weekend, Ivy is a funny and happy little thing. She chomps on our fingers and toys and drools on everything. She has found a new, loud voice with which to "talk," saying long strings of "ayaaaayaaaayaaayaa!" with great intention. She loves to watch Jack and loves to be outside. She has enjoyed being worn in the Ergo carrier all weekend and has been a dream baby on our full-day outings.
And in these pictures, her hair kind of looks red...
Fabulous, fabulous weekend its been. The kind of weekend where the school bag doesn't get unpacked and the vacuuming never quite gets done and there are piles of folded laundry everywhere that just didn't get put away. Because we've been out. Out getting coffee and helping friends and riding trolleys and exploring our city and riding on trains and enjoying the glory that is 60 degree weather. Out with the kids and discovering that they are pretty awesome when it comes to being dragged around town for an entire day, two little blond troupers. Out taking advantage of every second of the weekend because that's all we've got, these days, for time together...
Pictures and details to come, soon, I hope. But for now I must take advantage of what few hours of sleep I can get before the week starts up again. The week in all its craziness, all work and rush and busyness. The week that will go so fast as we hurtle along towards another weekend...
May it be a good week. May memories of your wonderful weekend carry you through it well...
We are pretty sure we felt a little toothlet edging through Ivy's top gums tonight. This would be consistent with her generally rangy and unpredictable mood all day. Not to mention the copious amounts of drool pouring out of her mouth. And the fact that she has woken crying 4 times since we put her down to sleep 2 hours ago. Sigh.
Teething. Let the good times roll.
We have vowed to take copious numbers of photos of her over the next few days to capture the last moments of her gummy, wide-mouthed smile before the tooth starts to show. Luckily (somehow, impossibly) it is time already for some weekly pics tomorrow. Where does the time go???
In other news, the Jack-man is officially a preschooler. He and daddy headed off, backpack in tow, for his first day at St. Paul's this morning. Not a real day, just the "meet the teacher, get used to the room" sort of a day, and he didn't even unpack his bag. But Nat reports that he had a great time, participated well in clean up and even reluctantly painted a bit at craft time. I can't believe this is my baby, this kid who is heading full tilt into his school career. Nat says he was confident and happy, no concerns. And Jack told me excitedly that he wanted to go to preschool every day.
The big boy of the house also is well on the way to being potty trained, I do believe. I never thought this day would come, you know? But here we have a kid with no diapers in his room anymore. A few pullups for night and naps and a whole drawer of underwear (might I add not a duplicate print among them? Shocking variety of cute prints for boys undies...). He is staying dry almost all the time, and has even had a few breakthroughs with pooping in the potty over the past few days. He's such a stinking perfectionist. I think that he really has been afraid to move forward with each step of this process until he's known that he can do it successfully. And he really gets very, very upset when he has an accident.
I don't though. Because just saying that he has accidents means that he is actually potty training. And I am just so happy we've gotten here and I won't be wiping his poopy bottom for the rest of eternity. Or even the rest of the year. I feel like we've done it, we've made it out of babyhood for real. We've gone and created a kid.
And, a pretty bright kid to boot. He's always loved numbers, as you know. Well, he can now count to 13 on his own and can count up to 5 fingers or items with excellent 1-1 correspondence. Plus he can recognize the quantity of 5 at a glance. And just this evening, when he earned 6 M&Ms (the grandest total yet) for both peeing AND pooping in the potty-- he was most excited to learn how to make 6 on his fingers. He tried to count his M&M's and put the number on his fingers, then held up his 5 and looked at me and asked "How do I make 6?" And I showed him and he showed me back and counted those 6 fingers right back to me. I was so proud of him. These might not seem like impressive skills to you but according to the scope and sequence of developing number sense in the right way for future mathematical success-- well, he's coming along well. Not reading at age 2 or anything, but I think he'll be doing some basic adding and subtracting at 3...
Better watch out or he'll be bored in kindergarten...
Finally, related news for those of you who are concerned with events outside of our offspring's latest developments:
Nat and I have joined the JCC (Jewish Community Center) in an effort to get in shape and give Nat another opportunity to get the kids out and get time for himself during the day (they have a nice childcare facility complete with little old ladies who just love to snuggle Ivy). I have been going to a 6 am spinning class on my way to work 2-3 mornings a week. While it is actually physically painful to tear myself out of bed at 5am, it is worth it. I rather like the quiet, dark drive to the gym, complete with the two ladies, in reflective garb and hair nets, who walk in the road down South Woodland, every morning like clockwork. I like that feeling of being a part of a secret club, the secret morning people. I love the quiet of the lovely locker rooms, the relaxing shower and time to gt ready in front of a really nice mirror for a change. I love that by the time I get to work at 7:30am I've already had a great workout and can relax the rest of the day. Now, if I can just stick with it...
In the midst of our self improvement, however, two of our family members have gone a bit gimpy. Nat's been having issues with his knee and is all braced up and occasionally sporting a walking stick these days, and kneeling is problematic for him. Not the best situation with a baby and a potty training toddler. And poor Cor managed to do something pretty serious to her leg yesterday morning (during a most delightful trip to the park where she romped gleefully with some neighbor dogs), to the point where she hasn't put any weight on it for about 36 hours now. We are off to the vet with her tomorrow and really hoping she doesn't need surgery. Though I have reassured her that she is worth far more to me than the new iPod Touch I was thinking of getting, really. I do love the silly spaniel and it is heartbreaking to watch her hobble around. Doesn't really bother her and she's gotten much better on 3 legs over the course of the day. But still! My puppy, limping around like an old dog. When did this happen?
It is so sad that we all have to get old. Strange that the passage of time and "getting older" is greeted with anticipation and celebration for babies and toddlers-- note the very existence of this blog!-- but then with such dread and trepidation once we reach the coveted state of adulthood. We spent the first half of our lives striving to grow up and the rest wishing we could stop time or even go back...
In the meantime, off to sleep. Busy day of capturing and recording and reveling in the growing-up of my children, tomorrow.
