New Midlife Mommy

A Froggy Christmas Eve

The title is courtesy of my daughter, who thinks that Santa asked Rudolph to guide his sleigh on a "froggy" Christmas Eve.  It makes me smile every time she sings it, and I really don't have the heart to correct her.

We did celebrate Christmas Eve with my dad, just as planned.  We picked him up, had a glass of wine, opened presents, and went to an early dinner.  DD was into Christmas for the very first time, and she was just amazed that just about every present under the tree was for her.  She's got the present opening thing down pat -- last year and the year before, we had to do the opening for her.

We went to the candlelight service at my church, which turned out to be a disaster.  I hadn't gone in a long time, but we always used to go as a family as I was growing up and long after I moved away from home.  I remember my father yelling at my balking brother, telling him "if it's Christmas Eve, we're in church!" 

But it was really a mistake, I guess.  Shortly after I sat down, I started crying, and I cried through most of the service.  For some reason, I missed my mother terribly right at that moment.  I could hear her singing the hymns in my "mind's ear," or perhaps it was in my heart.  Wherever it was, I could hear her loud and clear.  And it just made me miss her more.

DD was completely obnoxious, which didn't help either.  It was a family service, and the minister always calls the children up to sit down while he tells them a story.  DD went up to the front of the church and sat down, and then she started fidgeting so much that a disgusted DH grabbed her and took her back to the pew.  She made noises.  She got up and down.  She tried to kick the pew in front of her.  DH finally just took her away.  I certainly wasn't much help, since I was working my way through the box of Kleenex that someone had graciously left on our pew.

I would have thought that DD would be interested in communion.  It's a Protestant church, and they pass out the host and the wine.  But, she didn't care.  She didn't find the offering interesting either.  She did calm down enough to sit on my lap when they started lighting everyone's candle.  I must have been quite a sight -- bawling my eyes out, holding my squirming little girl steadily on my lap, and trying to keep from lighting her on fire with the darned candle.

Apparently, while DH and DD were away, DD claimed to have pooped.  DH said it was a very small effort, but to hear DD tell the story, she was in immediate need of changing.  So, DH braved the frigid cold in the parking lot, brought the diaper bag in, and changed DD.  And, instead of putting the bag back in the car, he put it by our coats.  Where he didn't remember it.  I didn't even notice it. 

After we dropped my father off, DH drove back to the church to recover the bag, but no luck.  It was locked down tight, oddly, because another service was due to start in a couple of hours.  I was blessing out the "darned" diaper bag while DH encircled the church trying to get someone's attention.  Good thing that I didn't say the f*cking diaper bag, because DD kept asking her dad about the "darned diaper bag" during the several days that we had to wait until the church opened up again.  DH was willing to drive all the way back to the church after the next service started up, but I thought that was just silly -- that would have been another hour and a half ride, round trip.  Even though the bag that was left had everything under the sun inside, we were able to get by with the basics for a couple of days.

All in all, I should have left the candlelight service for another time.

On another note, DD pooped on the potty again today.  This is the second time she did it at home (she's only done it once at school).  She went into the bathroom herself, asked me for help to unsnap her pants, and then she asked for some privacy.  She was very excited after she finished, and she insisted that daddy take a picture.  Of course he obliged.  Cut from the same cloth, those two.

This really isn't as exciting as the first time, but DD was beside herself.  As I secretly watched, she started to dance and sing a song about how she was so happy because she pooped on the potty.  I guess you had to be there, but I hope that is one of the memories that never leaves me.  She was just so proud of herself.  As was I.

I Second That Emotion

Someone clicked over here from "Missed Conceptions," a blog that hasn't been updated in over a year.  I clicked back on the post that sent the reader here, and once again, it resonated with me.  Just as it did the first time I read it.  You see, Karen also conceived her child with donor eggs, and she also had to come to terms with the loss of a genetic link.

Here is what she said, in part:

Of course I have pangs and fears related to the way he was conceived. I wish I could take credit for his beautiful blue eyes. I hope he never feels as though a part of him is missing. But if I was offered the chance for a reproductive do-over, to have one of my miscarriages erased and my "own" child born without ever having gotten to the stage of even thinking about donor eggs, I'd hug my funny, feisty boy to my chest with a heartfelt "No thanks."

Amen to that.  Amen.

What Did She Say?

We had dinner with our handyman, M, and his girlfriend, H, this evening.  He's a really an interesting guy.  Not only haven't we been able to find anything that he can't do around the house, he's also a professional musician and a published author.  We are glad to have made his acquaintance, not just because we are such incompetents when it comes to fixing things, but because he and his girlfriend are such wonderful people.  DD loves him, and he loves DD, even though he has never had children and will run out of the room if it even seems like there might be poop in a diaper. 

Anyway.  We were just leaving for the restaurant as M and H pulled up.  He wanted to get his torpedo heater out of our garage.  (Our garage is filled with his stuff, since he's here so much -- the price you pay when you have an old house.)  We invited them along, and they accepted.

By way of background, our weather has been kind of strange lately.  Today, we were supposed to have temperatures above normal.  But there were incredible winds, which made the temperature feel much colder than it probably was. 

As we were sitting at the table making small talk before dinner came, DD decided to join in.  Just as adults so often do, DD decided to discuss the weather.

DD:  It's very blustery outside.

M:   What?? (giving DD his didn't-you-just-turn-three-and-how-could-you-possibly-know-the-word-blustery kind of look)

DD:  It means it's very windy.

M:   Yeah.  I knew that.  Sheesh.

DD just amazes me sometimes.

We have also been teaching DD how to properly use the words "may" and "can."  She caught on right away, much to my surprise.  And she doesn't hesitate to let me know that she knows what she's doing.  She's even started to correct DH and I when we make a mistake.  If, for example, I say, "DD, can I have one of your chocolates?," DD will say, "yes, mommy, you MAY."  She will also tell me how her friends at school will use the word "can" when they should be using "may."  I have no doubt that she corrects them as well. 

We have created a monster.

Where Did This Come From?

So, I lied -- well, not on purpose.  I did find that I have one or two more gifts to wrap.  Joke gifts for my boss, and his boss.  They both buy presents for all of us, so I reciprocate.  They are both avid coffee drinkers, so I buy them each a Starbucks gift card.  But these are something extra.  Two boxes of cheese and crackers for my boss' boss, since she's always forgetting to eat, and a light up musical tie for my boss, who is the kind of person who would wear such a thing during the holidays.  They are both really nice people, and very generous.

Anyway.  DD and I wrapped the cheese and crackers tonight.  She wanted to know who the present was for, and I told her that it was a present was for my boss.  And, do you know what she said? 

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"Why are you giving daddy cheese and crackers?"

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Oh, yes.  Yes, she did.  Daddy got a kick out of this.  I am truly puzzled, because we have never even joked about something like that.  You would have to know me IRL.  A man the boss of me?  Just not happening.

But I'm sure that DH will never let me live it down.  Priceless.

Updated to add:

OK, so I couldn't let this go.  Last night, I asked DD why she thought DH is my boss.  Then she said -- "Daddy and I are both the boss of you, mommy."  And she laughed and laughed, because she thought that was very funny.  And so did daddy.

Well, I know where I stand in this house!  (Smile)

Finally Done (I Think)

I'm not really into the whole Christmas thing this year.  But, I have a little girl, who is getting into the whole season for the first time.  Even though I don't feel like doing the whole holiday thing, I will do it anyway.  For her.

But, I think I'm done.  I took the day off so that I could send out my cards, because I just don't get any free time anymore.  That was chore in and of itself.  I have this ratty address listing that I printed off of my Outlook program years and years ago.  It has scribbles all over it.  And, I have been stuffing all of the Christmas cards that I received since DD was born in 2004 into an empty space in the bookshelf until I could get around to checking them for address changes.  And maybe even reading them.  Christmas cards for me are really just a chore that I don't get much pleasure out of, so honestly, I often don't read the cards that I get back -- but I would never tell anyone that, because it is so rude!

So, I had to look through all the cards from 2004, 2005, 2006, and 2007 (to date) and edit my list.  And there were quite a few people who have moved in the last several years.  Until now, I'd only realized that when I got a card returned to me with no forwarding address.  But, I got the list updated. 

The cards were preprinted with an Christmas-y greeting, a really cute picture of DD, and our names were printed.  So, for the most part, I just stuffed them into the envelopes that I'd addressed (at least I did that part by hand).  Lazy, lazy, lazy.  I did write notes on the back of a few of them, but most of them are just blank on the back.  I've noticed this is kind of a trend for parents with young children -- photo cards stuffed into an envelope just to meet our minimum obligations.

I finished wrapping presents.  And I went to the bank to buy some gift cards for secretaries, teachers, and other people that we buy gift cards for.  Then off to a liquor store to buy a bottle of very expensive rum to take with us to a holiday party tomorrow night.  This is the only party DD has ever been invited to, and she is the only child there.  The host, our handyman, has just taken a liking to DD.  Even though he is a lifetime collector of antiques, and his house is full of breakable things, he doesn't mind DD being there at all.  We don't stay long, but it is a chance to get out.

Now, I just need to get through work and DD's school parties next week.  After that, I think all I need to do is to wait for the big day. 

We are having my father over on Christmas Eve day.  We will drive 50 miles to pick him up, open presents, go to an early dinner, and then probably go to the candlelight service at the church, which is much closer to his house than it is to ours.  I think DD will like the service.  I always found the church lit by candlelight alone to be very enchanting when I was small.  I'm embarrassed to say that the last time that DD was in church was in February 2005, the day she was christened.  And you know, that was the last time that DH and I were in church.  Shame on us, I guess.

I do have to admit that I'm kind of looking forward to watching DD open her presents.  I do hope that she likes what we've gotten her, though I guess she's a little young to be too much of a jerk about it if she doesn't.  And I'm looking forward to being off work from the 22nd through the 1st.

I'm trying to focus on the good things.  Like baking cookies with DD this evening.  They were precut, and all we had to do was put them on a cookie sheet and stuff them in the oven.  But DD had fun anyway, because she didn't know what she was missing.  DH tried to explain how you make cookies, starting with eggs, and butter, and flour . . . DD interrupted him and asked him why anyone would put flowers in their cookies.  Ahem.  Yes, it's true, I don't cook, and I don't bake, so DD has no idea what flour is.  She does make me smile.

Jesus and DD -- they are the reason for the season for me. 

Breakfast With Santa

We had breakfast with Santa today.  It was really very nice.  Expensive, but nice.  They only had about 100 people there, and it was very, very relaxed.  Breakfast was great, and Santa was wonderful.

Of course, we had to get up at the crack of dawn because breakfast was so far away.  At the last minute, I suggested to DD that probably most of the kids would be dressed up.  She jumped at the chance to wear the dress that we bought for Christmas pictures this year.  It has red velvet on top, ribbon roses and streamers at the chest line, and a white taffeta bottom with red and green embroidered holly leaves generously adorned all around.  All that, and it's fun to spin around in.

This is the very first time that DD was even interested in Santa.  Over the years, she's gone from indifferent to terrified.  But this is the year for loving Santa, I guess.

When we arrived, they sent us to the upstairs part of the building, where there were two lonely tables.  We could look down on the other ten tables, and I assumed that we were going to miss all the action.  Not so!  Santa visited us first.  DD went ballistic.  She'd gone through a little gift bag at her place setting, and she'd found a small blue stuffed reindeer.  She yelled "thank you for the reindeer, Santa," and then got out of her chair and went running over to him to give him a great big hug.  She hugged Mrs. Claus as well.

We were joined by another couple at our table, also with an only child.  She was about six months older than DD, and they really connected.  DH and I enjoyed talking with her parents.  There was an opportunity to sit on Santa's lap, and the only downside was that it took a long time for them to print out the pictures (they only had one very slow printer).  But the pictures were cute, and well worth waiting for.

DD asked Santa for a tiger cat -- but not a real one.  A few weeks ago, she asked for a robot cat.  I bought her a Fur Real cat, which apparently only comes in white.  It has a kitten, and  it purrs, meows, and I think moves its tail when it's activated by rubbing it or passing your hand over its eyes.  She's also asked for a music box with bears painted on it (Google hasn't been much help with this one).  You know, there is a lot to be said for commercial television -- it certainly makes gift buying easier.  Because DD doesn't see many commercials (we tape Sesame Street and she watches DVDs), she is just not with the program.  (Though oddly, she knows who Sponge Bob and Dora and Diego are.)

I have been kind of struggling with the issue of Santa.  My parents played along with my brother and I.  We put out cookies and milk for Santa, and they were gone when we woke up.  We put out our stockings for Santa, and they were filled in the morning.  I remember one year, I really wanted a plastic buffet.  It had plastic dishes and silverware, and it even came with paper napkins!  I'm not quite sure why I was so enamored with it, but I was.  Anyway, I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and I could see straight into the living room.   My poor father had assembled this buffet, and my parents hadn't even had a chance to put a bow on it yet. 

I couldn't believe my eyes!  I went into the living room to look at my new buffet!  My mother asked me what I was doing up, and I told her that I had to go to the bathroom.  But, look!  My new buffet!  And then my mother told me that it wasn't for me -- Santa had left it with them for safekeeping, and he was going to take it to another little girl (I guess she just didn't think well on her feet).  I was heartbroken.  I don't remember what my parents told me the next day when I found the buffet next to the tree.  I just remember being upset about my mother's fib, all in the name of protecting me from the truth about Santa.

And that is part of what's bothering me.  I really try not to lie to DD.  And, even though it's all in the name of preserving the magic of childhood, it's still not the truth.  And you have to tell so many other fibs just to keep the myth going.  Just like my mother did.  And the memory I took with me was the disappointment from the night, not the joy of the morning.

DD knows that there are children in the world who aren't as blessed as we are.  She's been with me when we've bought gloves for a glove drive at church.  She will put a toy in a toy drive box next week.  She's put money in the Salvation Army collection pot.  She's heard DH and I talk about adopting a family for Christmas.  So, even if we go along with the Santa myth, how will we ever explain why Santa might not show up at your house if you are poor?

Most importantly, for me, Christmas is about the birth of Jesus.  I've talked with DD about this, but it is much harder to explain what that is all about than it is to tell her about a red man in a suit who flies around the world and gives everyone presents.  I don't know how Christian parents are able to mesh what we believe is the real reason for Christmas with the notion of Santa Claus.

I guess that I will figure it out eventually.  But for now, it's kind of confusing.  I don't want DD to be a pariah for not participating in the Santa myth, and I don't want her to be the spoiler kid who tells others that there is no such thing.  I do remember my mother telling me about the "spirit" of St. Nick as I got too old to believe in Santa, and I do try to have a spirit of generosity at the holidays and throughout the year.  Because I believe that God would like me to give to others, as I have received from Him. 

I just don't know where the guy in the big red suit fits into all of this.  But like everything else in this parenting gig, I guess we'll fake it until we figure it out.

A Fussy Palate

I have been thinking lately about DD's limited menu.  And, I've been wondering if it's normal.  These are the only things that DD will eat:

Freeze-dried strawberries, bananas, and apples

Fresh bananas and pears

Canned peaches, pears, or pineapples (but not lately)

Apple, pear, and grape juice

Fruit Medley (a Gerber dessert baby food in a jar)

Applesauce

Prunes

Gerber fruit strips (but only strawberry)

Freeze-dried corn (that's it -- no other vegetables will cross her lips)

Fries (of course)

Yogurt (but only banana and strawberry, and only the creamy type)

Cheese

Lunchables (but only the turkey-cheese-cracker Lunchable)

Chicken fingers or chicken nuggets

Sliced beef, turkey, ham, or chicken

Crackers and bread sticks (all kinds)

Potato chips

Biscuits (but not bread or rolls)

Candy (all kinds, except for peanut butter cups)

Cheerios (but not with milk)

Pancakes or waffles

Fish sticks

Kibbie (one of my favorite middle eastern foods)

That's about it.  We do give her a vitamin made for toddlers at her doctor's suggestion.

We can't get her to try new things.  When we do try, you'd think we were asking her to step into a vat of acid.  It's that traumatic.  Or alternatively, she will just lick it and put it back on the plate with no drama at all.  Sometimes, she will only like something for one day at school (for example, ravioli), but when I buy it at home, she won't touch it.  Although she might lick it once before ignoring it completely.

Is this unusual?  I feel like a bad parent, and I'm really embarrassed by this list.

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On another note, if you are interested in winning an iPod Nano, stop by Busy Mom's blog.  You just have to tell her the most unusual thing that you've ever shopped for on line.  You can only enter once, and all submissions/comments must be received by 11pm (CST) on Monday, December 10th, 2007.  I dare say you won't beat me -- the most unusual thing that I have ever gone looking for online was guano.  I was trying to prove a point -- that you can find anything on e-Bay.  At the time I went looking, there were five people selling bat guano in boxes.  I am so not kidding.  There are five to win, so go for it.

Terrible Threes

You know, I was terrified of the "terrible twos."  But for us, two was kind of nice.  DD has always been very verbal.  At two, she could sign, or she could tell us what she wanted by using her words.  So, my current issues have nothing to do with communication problems.

Lately, I have to say that DD is just a little snot.  Today was a perfect example.  DH had to go out of town last night, so DD and I were on our own this morning.  I expected to get complaints about "that's not how daddy does it," and I did.  I think that's normal.  But, the screaming just drove me nuts.  For example:

I put her in the high chair, because she likes to sit there frequently.  Even though it's getting kind of small, I don't care.  My attitude is sit where you want -- just eat!

I guess I should have asked her where she wanted to sit, because much screaming ensued.  She finally told me that she wanted to sit on a "big chair."  I told her to ask me nicely, and I gave her an example of how she could do that.  She screamed.  I told her that I would count to ten, and if she didn't ask me nicely, then she would stay in the high chair.  She screamed, because she didn't want me to count.  So, I told her OK, I won't count, but she did need to ask nicely.  I waited.  And waited.  And when she still didn't ask, I told her she would stay in the high chair.  More screaming.

She took off her boot and threw it.  She had insisted on putting these boots on after getting dressed, in anticipation of going out into the snow outside.  Then, she screamed because she was missing a boot.  I told her that the rule is if she throws something, she doesn't get it back.  That meant that she wouldn't get her boot back until we were finished with breakfast.  More screaming.

She asked for some "fruit medley" (a stage 3 baby food dessert that she is still attached to).  I got out a bowl, put some in, and put it in front of her.  She slapped it away.  So, I told her that she wouldn't be getting any fruit medley.  More screaming.

Lather.  Rinse.  Repeat.  The examples go on and on and on.  I did tell her that it's OK to be angry, but it's not OK to throw things, or hit or kick (oh, I didn't mention that, did I?  That's why she lost a privilege today.)  It was a terrible morning.  And I did swear a bit.  So, I guess neither of us were making good choices.

I have to be honest -- I really don't like this three thing.  On the one hand, I love the fact that she communicates on a deeper level, and I am fascinated by the connections that she makes and expresses.  But, if the sun rises a minute later than she expects, she screams.  I do understand that she wants to be independent, and that she wants to do things for herself.  I let her do them, even when I am silently yelling "hurry the hell up!!!'"  But, I have no idea what this screaming thing is about or why she has such a low tolerance for any frustration at all.

People have told me that it does get better.  But they haven't told me when.  I do hope that it's soon.  Otherwise, my kid will have the largest "bad word" vocabulary at school.

The Obligatory Thanksgiving Post (Belated)

This is a hard year for us.  As you know, my mom died on September 17.  I am still coming to grips with that.  It slaps me in the face several times a day as it hits me anew that she's gone.  I will never see her again.  I will never talk with her again.  I can't hug her anymore.  No girl talk.  No sharing what DD did each day.  It's over.  And my father just doesn't fill the void.  I'll probably talk about that sometime, but I just don't feel up to it now.  It's just weird, and sad.  My parents have been there as far back as my memory can stretch, and illogically, I believed they would always be there.  It is just soul wrenching, really, and words fail me when I try to explain it.

My brother and I are still not speaking.  At this point, I expect that is permanent.  And honestly?  I have been really angry with my SIL for many, many years for little things that she's done to me.  But the unforgivable things are the things that she did to my mother.  And I'm angry with my brother for letting her do it.  So, the fact that my brother has decided he's not speaking to me anymore gives me a lot of freedom to just be angry with both of them.  I didn't have that luxury before, since my mother wouldn't ever let me say anything to them.

Anyway.  Given my brother's decision not to speak with me, it made it easy to decide that I really didn't want to attempt getting together at Thanksgiving.  I wasn't interested in seeing my brother and SIL, even though I do miss my niece and nephews.  But, unfortunately, my niece and nephews come with parents.  And the parents that they have are not people that I want in my life for now, and maybe not ever.

I told my father that DD, DH, and I were going to go to a restaurant for Thanksgiving.  I also told him that I wouldn't expect him to choose between my brother and I.  If my brother asked him to dinner, I told him that he should go.  (But, if my brother got him for Thanksgiving, then I wanted him for Easter.  Shared custody, you know?)

In mid-November, I went out to lunch with my girlfriend, J (DD's godmother), and "the dads" (hers and mine).  She invited my father and my family over to her house for Thanksgiving.  I know that J really understands how we are feeling.  She was close to her mom too, and she lost her thirteen years ago to cancer.  I know that her father is still aching, as they were good friends as well as spouses.  J tells me that he has refused to change anything in her room, clothes and all.

My family accepted J's invitation.  My father decided to wait for my brother to ask him over, but he said he would let us know by November 16.  Time marched on.  November 16 came with no invitation from my brother.  So, my dad accepted J's offer.  Thanksgiving was on November 22, and my brother didn't get around to calling my dad until the evening of November 20.  We didn't receive a call.  Game on, I guess.

It was a really nice dinner.  J is an excellent cook.  She has three daughters, and she invited enough family and friends to fill the house with twenty-two people.  Her father, and her in-laws, are all my father's age, so he had someone to talk to.  DD loves to play with J's youngest, and even though she's about four years older than DD, I think she enjoys it as well.

It was different for us.  But I'm glad that it was different.  Honestly, I don't think I could have handled getting together with everyone except for my mother at Thanksgiving.

The next night, J babysat for us while we had a "date night."  I think it might have only been our second since DD has been born.  We really didn't know what to do with ourselves, because we are never alone.  We had dinner and then went out for drinks.  DH was ready to pick up DD right after dinner.  I insisted that we spend a little more time out before going back.  There were moments when we didn't have much to talk about.  But, I think that with more practice, we could get the hang of it.  On the other hand, DD was having a wonderful time.  They baked brownies in the new cookware that J had bought for her.  Both girls wore chef hats and looked just adorable.  Unfortunately, most of the pictures were kind of blurry, so I missed the full effect.  But they were cute just the same.  DD was so excited, she really didn't want to go to sleep after we got home.

J has promised to babysit for us once a month.  So, that should be nice.  I do remember that my mother insisted that we should be doing something like this.  She and my father also had a "date night" once a month when my brother and I were growing up.  Our next-door neighbor's daughter, M, used to come over and take care of us.  Speaking of M, I saw her at my mother's funeral.  Time just marches on, you know?  M is a grandmother!  But she looked great, and she is as kind as I remember.  She extended a lunch invitation that I am going to try to accept.

DH and I really need to reestablish our relationship, and hopefully, date night will help.  Right now, "we" consist of whatever words we can squeeze in edgewise over DD's prattling little head.  And, while DD is asking to sleep in her own bed more often (which, I'm embarrassed to admit is still a crib, even though it's a convertible -- shhh, she doesn't mind), we are still bed sharing.  So, we aren't very close in that respect either.

Everything worthwhile takes a little work.  DH is my friend, and even though we have our spats, I wouldn't trade him for anything.  He puts up with me.  And that is saying a lot.  He's a great dad, and he makes me laugh.

And, I could use more laughter right about now.  But I guess that's true for everyone.  As I have been going through pictures at my parent's house, I've been struck by how many pictures there are of my mother laughing and smiling.  She really enjoyed life.

G*d, I miss her.  I hope that wherever she is, she's still smiling.