New Midlife Mommy

Cute Overload

DD went to the princess birthday party on Tuesday night.  Let me say at the start that I effing hate middle of the week birthday parties.  I don't get it -- is it cheaper on a weeknight?  I would be willing to chip in for the extra cost if we could please, please have these parties on a Friday night.  We skipped out on the last birthday party that one of DD's school friends had, because it started at 5:00 on a school night, which would have meant that DH or I would have had to take time off from work to attend.  DD has never let us forget that we didn't take her.  At least this party started at 6:00.

Anyway.  This was B's princess birthday party.  There were eight girls total, and probably ten adults.  We were directed to our own table, where we were served sweetened tea, which was really quite good.  In the space of a half an hour, they were able to get princess gowns on all eight girls, do their hair, put on glitter, bracelets, and necklaces, and practice a princess pose.  All of the girls were announced, and they all had a chance to show the mommies and daddies their princess pose.  Most had stage fright, and DD was one of them. 

They were seated and had a lesson on etiquette (princesses don't wipe their hands on their dresses, princesses don't chew with their mouths open, princesses always put their napkins on their laps, princesses always share, etc.).  Then they had cookies and pink lemonade (the adults were given cookies as well).  Later, they had ice cream and cake (and so did we).  They also had a fashion show, dancing, a visit from the fairy godmother, songs from the head princess, and present opening.  Finally, there was a dance with Prince Charming (B's daddy).  Very sweet.  DD had a wonderful time, and she was given a photo of all the girls together posing with the head princess (for some inexplicable reason, DD appeared to be screaming in the picture -- totally charming, I can assure you).  Unfortunately, it was past DD's bedtime by the time we got home.  DD was wound up, but mommy and daddy were exhausted.

We are going to have our annual 4th of July party tomorrow, but it is going to be smaller than usual.  Just my dad, possibly DD's godmother and daughter, and DH's nephew, wife, and their three kids.  Last year, it was a lot bigger, because it included my mom and my brother and his family (but, since we're not talking anymore, they're not coming).  We are on the parade route, and it is quite elaborate.  It lasts about an hour, and possibly more this year, since it's an election year and and all the politicians like to pass out things.  It is a great parade for the kids, because they can make out like bandits with candy and other things. 

Hopefully, the parade will start at the end of our street.  If not, then that means that we will be at the end of the parade, which means less goodies for the kids.  After the parade, I've got munchies and swimming planned, then lunch (take out -- you didn't think I would be cooking, did you?), and then everyone will likely go home late in the afternoon.  My father wants to spend the night, because DD's godmother is having a graduation party tomorrow for her eldest.  I don't quite understand why he wants to stay over here, because we are very north, and the graduation party is to the east and nowhere near our house, but whatever.  I told him that we plan on going to some fireworks in the evening, and the next day holds breakfast, swimming lessons, errands, and then we will go to the graduation party.  I worry that he will be bored, but it's up to him.  I honestly don't have time to entertain him and get everything done that I need to get done.  But he's certainly welcome to the TV and the guest room.  He would also have time for a nap, which is always nice (at least I think so).

And Monday is the big transfer day.  This morning, they told me that my lining is 11 mm (they look for at least 7 mm).  So, that's good, though I'm fat as a cow as a result (have I said how much I hate Estrace lately?).  The ultrasound technician was a little weird.  She claimed that she'd seen me before, but I don't think so.  Most of these visits with the dildo cam (as it is affectionately known by us stirrup queens) are only a few minutes long.  This took at least ten minutes, punctuated by "hold your breath.  OK, breathe."  Times 20.  WTF?  Maybe she is just exceptionally thorough, but now I totally understand why they were running late today.  We will get our embryo report on Monday morning before the transfer.  Ironically, I had the opportunity to meet the embryologist this morning, as she just happened to be in the office.  This was very unusual, because the office that she works in (the sister clinic) is about 45 minutes away.  She is not our normal embryologist, but she appeared to know what she was doing, and she understood our thawing instructions.  Bonus points there, I guess.

That's about it.  Sorry if I'm not commenting much.  I am so far behind on blog reading, it's not funny.  At one point, I zeroed everything out (I was around 800-900 unread posts, and I couldn't seem to catch up).  That was really a freeing feeling.  But, my counter is back up to over 100 again, and I'm starting to feel antsy about it.

Oh, I almost forgot.  Today was a historic day at our house.  The occasion?  DD's first skinned knee.  Really, you'd think that this would have happened by now, but it hasn't.  I bought her a pair of cute flip flops in response to her repeated pleas, but I also warned her about running in them.  Well, this evening, she tripped and fell while -- what else -- running.  Sigh.  This will be the first of many skinned knees, but I hope that she isn't such a wimp about it next time.  For all the drama, you'd have thought she'd broken her leg.

Ah well.  That's about all the news that is fit to print on our side of the world.  Have a great 4th of July!

Speechless

I am, as the title suggests, just speechless.  Why?  Because, during dinner, my three year old used the phrase "rectangular prism."  And then she told me what it meant.  And then she explained, without prompting, how a rectangular prism may be distinguished from a plain old rectangle.  And then she walked around the kitchen showing me examples.

"See mommy?  This is a rectangular prism." 

Damn.

And May The Fastest Candidate Win

I've mentioned before that DD and I watch Fox and Friends in the morning.  And she is with DH and I in the evenings.  We watch a little television as she's winding down for the night.  Everything is fair game -- CNN, MSNBC, and Fox.  The election coverage has been fascinating.  And yes, we are news junkies.  DD likes to point at the TV and say, "hey, the talking heads are on!"  Which actually sounds kind of strange coming out of her mouth.

DD has asked a lot of questions about the presidential race.  Not too long ago, she could tell you all the candidate's names (after the lesser knowns had dropped out -- she's only three, you know) -- Obama, Clinton, Huckabee, McCain, and Romney.  She knows when they have dropped out and reduces her list accordingly, though she was kind of sad that she couldn't say "Huckabee!!!" any more.  That was always good for a laugh for some reason.

There is one candidate (who shall remain nameless) that I've never really liked.  And I made the mistake of mentioning that to DD at some point.  And, since that time, whenever DD has seen that person on television, she tells me who the candidate is, and then she has added "but we don't like [that person]."  That really made me feel bad, and I've pointed out that just because I might not like someone's politics doesn't mean that person is not a good person; I just disagree with that person's positions on certain things.  And, then I tell her to look at all the supporters.  And to look at that person's family standing nearby.  See?  There are lots and lots of people who like that person. I've also pointed out that DD can't just take my opinions and make them her own.  She is going to have to decide for herself.  It's sunk in a little bit.  Now, she will say, "there's [candidate name].  But you don't like [that person].  But lots of other people do."  I guess it's a start.

Yes.  We are very in the moment parents.  Very up to date.  I was just breaking my arm patting myself on the back, as my mom used to say, because all of these things presented so many teaching moments.  Democracy in action.  Agreeing to disagree.  Etc.  Etc.  Etc.

And then, the other day, DD asked:  "Mommy, when are they going to run?"

Blink.

Blink.

Ah, yes.  The presidential race.

I think that we lost something in the translation.

My Future Teenager

I always look forward to picking DD up from school on Fridays.  We make a game out of it.  We get in the car, pump our arms, and yell, "It's Friday night!!"  This means the start of the weekend, more time together, and the best part (from DD's perspective) is a Happy Meal with ice cream for dessert.  Corny, yes.  But it is our tradition, and McDonald's once a week won't kill anyone.

Everything seemed fine when I went into DD's classroom on Friday.  She ran up to me and hugged me.  I picked her up and carried her around for awhile.  I received a lot of kisses and hugs.  DD showed me her art projects from the day.  We gathered her sheets for washing, her daily report, and other miscellaneous materials and got ready to leave. 

As we started to turn for the door, a mom that I'd never met before approached me and said that her daughter, B, is having a birthday soon.  B is a new girl in the room; I think she's only been with the school for about a month.  The mom explained that she'd planned a party for B and invited family members.  Two cousins were unable to come, so B's mom told her she could invite any two friends she wanted. 

The mom is so excited about this party.  It really is probably quite an expensive endeavor.  It is a princess party, but everything is provided for the little girls -- the party center provides costumes, hair styling, and a bit of make up.  Then, the girls make their entrance into a ballroom, where they are announced, and they enjoy "tea" and cookies.  All in all, something that DD would just love. 

B's mom said that when B was offered the choice of who to bring, she said that she wanted to bring the only two girls that she has been talking about, non-stop -- DD and another girl, W.  B's mom said that she wanted to give me a heads up about the date and time (it's on a weeknight).  B's eyes just danced, and she looked so happy to invite DD to the party.  I looked over at my daughter and said, "DD, what do you think?  It sounds like fun!"

And what did my ungrateful little monster do?  She pouted and said in her most whiny, b*tchy voice, "I don't wanna go!"  And then she repeated it a couple of times for good measure and scuffed the floor with her shoe.  B looked sad, her mother looked a little confused, and I was really, really embarrassed.  B's mom said something about it being the end of the day, and DD was probably just tired.

When we got in the car, I told DD that I was so ashamed of her.  What she'd done was the wrong thing.  She kicked the back of my car seat.  I turned the rear view mirror up so that I couldn't see her, the only way that I could really withdraw attention while driving, and we didn't speak for awhile.

After a little while, I asked DD if she could tell me why what she'd done was not a "good choice."  She wouldn't answer.  So, I started talking to her about we can hurt someone's feelings by not being very nice.  And, I pointed out examples where she'd had her feelings hurt so that she would understand.

And do you know what she said?

(Wait for it)

"Whatever."  (With perfect 16 year old inflection.)

Whatever??  Whatever?? 

That did it.  I had been transported ten years into the future, and I didn't like it.  No, not one little bit.  Another lecture followed about how she was not entitled to talk to me that way.  (She's been experimenting with other little gems, like calling me "poopy head," etc. -- you know, the three year old equivalent of something far worse.  And, since she knows that will get her in trouble, she usually tells me that she was calling the wall a poppy head, or the light a poopy head, or the mirror a poopy head.  As if I would actually buy that.)

Needless to say, there was neither a Happy Meal nor an ice cream sundae.  Much wailing and gnashing of teeth ensued.  But, hopefully, we are moving past this abominable behavior.  I've really reached the end of my tolerance for it.  She has started acting like "that child" at restaurants, and she throws a fit at the drop of a hat.  I'm tired of it.  DH is tired of it.  She's just had many, many little brat moments lately, and sometimes, it seems like it is getting more and more frequent.  (Though honestly, please know that there are more moments where she makes me glad to be alive, and glad to be her mom.  What kills me is that she knows damned well how to be courteous, and nice.  Which is what makes this stuff all the more exasperating.) 

Later that night, over a dinner that did not include chicken McNuggets, DD admitted that she really did want to go to the party.  She loves the princesses.  She wants to dress up as Snow White.  She is very excited about going.  And she was able to articulate what went wrong.  If I had a black heart, I would have told her that she didn't deserve to go, not after the way that she treated B.  But, I didn't.  And I will apologize to B's mother -- again.  I'm guessing that B and DD will easily forget this and move on, or at least I hope so.

I hear that four is so much better.  At least I hope that it is.

Another Shining Mother Moment

You know, one of the fallacies about becoming a parent at an "advanced" age (ahem) is that people believe that you come equipped with more patience, more tolerance.  For the most part, that is true, I think.  I would have been a terrible mom in my 20's and my 30's.  I was very self-absorbed, a forever night student (always having a full-time job), and just not well-grounded.  But sometimes, even now, I think I really lack in the patience department.  (Shut up, DH, I know that you're reading this and making a snarky comment to yourself.)

DD is stubborn.  Well, I don't think stubborn really describes her.  She is the most bull-headed child you ever want to meet.  And, honestly, if we were genetically related, I would likely admit that it came from me.  But, we're not, and I don't know where this came from.

One of the things that DD is really stubborn about is trying new things.  She has a limited repertoire of food and drink.  She will NOT try PB & J.  She will NOT try pizza.  Seriously.  All of the great food of childhood -- none of it will pass her lips.  At school, they serve a main course, a vegetable, and a fruit for lunch.  If DD doesn't like any of them, she will sit there with her water and not eat a thing until she's dismissed from the table.  She won't drink milk, because she claims she only likes mommy's milk.  (However, she will drink chocolate milk; I guess everyone has a price.)  It took me no less than twenty tries to get her to try a strawberry and banana smoothie -- and she likes strawberries (if they're freeze dried or in a whipped yogurt), and she likes bananas.  Once she tried the smoothie, she loved it.  Which has been the case with most things that I've finally gotten her to try.  So, having read on someone's blog that V8 Infusion comes in strawberry and banana flavor, and that it is a great way to sneak in a vegetable (DD will only eat corn), I bought a bottle. 

Last Sunday was a beautiful day.  It has been along time in coming in these parts.  The weather has just been unseasonably cold.  But, since it was such a great day, DD talked quite a bit about going outside to play in her sandbox.  She has been looking forward to it all winter.

For some reason, I decided that this was the time that she just had to have some of this juice.  Do you think that she would try it?  Not a chance.

But this time, I decided that she was going to try it, damn it.  We struggled for a little while, with me saying you ARE going to try this and her saying no and holding her mouth closed.  Then, a little bit spilled on her arm.  I set the cup down (we were in the living room for some reason), and I went into the kitchen to get a damp towel to wipe off her sleeve.  When I came back, that little sh*t had dumped the cup of juice all over the carpet.

I lost it.  I was so angry with her.  And I called her, oh, just wait for it -- an a**hole.  I can't believe it, but yes, I did.  It just came out.  And then I told her that she wasn't allowed to go outside at all, all day, and if the carpet had been stained, she was going to receive another punishment. 

Fortunately, whenever I'm having a crazy moment, usually DH is not.  He understood completely why I was so angry, but he asked if there was a way for DD to redeem herself.  I decided that yes, there was.  She could go outside IF she tried the juice.  But she was not going to play in the sandbox that day as a punishment for spilling the juice.  Everyone thought that was reasonable.

She finally tried it.  And guess what?  She liked it.  As I knew she would.  And, at least she's honest.  She did admit to pouring the juice on the carpet -- because she "wanted to do it herself," whatever that means.

I can't believe that I lost it, but I did.  Sometimes, I am the a**hole.  I guess I won't be receiving that mother of the year award after all.

 

Recently Overheard At Our House

DD:  Mommy, there were BEES on the playground today.

Me:  Where?

DD:  On the wood chips.

Me:  So, what did you do?

DD:  I stayed on the sidewalk.  But some other kids played on the wood chips.

Me:  Oh my goodness.  Did the bees bite anyone?

DD:  (Sigh)  Mommy, bees don't bite.  They don't have teeth.  Bees sting.  They have a stinger. 

Me:  (Quietly) Little smart ass.

DD:  What mommy?

Me:  Oh, nothing.

Damn.  This kid is one little know-it-all.  And she's only three.  Lord help us when she turns four.

******************

We are confirmed for our transfer on Thursday.  Retrieval was today, and DH made his contribution this morning.  I started my progesterone last night, and I was finally able to cut back on the gosh-awful Estrace.  The progesterone is a pill suppository this time, rather than the Crinone gel.  It's not as messy, but it's three times a day dosing.  Which kind of s*cks, because I am so bad at three times a day dosing.  I can remember to take something when I brush my teeth -- in the morning and in the evening.  Otherwise, not so much.  I set an alarm on my e-mail at work to remind me, and I hope that does the trick.  Now I just have to figure out how to get into the habit on the weekends, because if all goes well, I will have to continue these meds for 100 days after a positive pregnancy test. 

I have no idea how many eggs were retrieved or how many were ICSI'd.  Remember, my clinic tells us what they want to, when they want to.  However, I did get a call from the billing person, which means that they want even more money for something that probably had just arrived over the fax machine from the sister clinic.  We also received some non-itemized bills yesterday and today.  (Who in the h*ll would pay a bill that wasn't itemized?)

All that aside, to our anonymous donor -- if I knew you, I would ask how you are feeling and hope that things are going OK.  I do remember what it was like to go through a retrieval; the achy feeling in your abdomen will likely be gone very soon.  But mostly, I would like to thank you for giving us the very best gift that anyone could possibly give.  I hope that you are gifted with children someday, because I don't know that you could possibly understand just how precious that gift is until you receive it for yourself.

I'm Raising A Jerk

Today, she let me know in no uncertain terms that she hates me.  Would you like to know what I did before she said it?  Why, I'll tell you.  I'd just come in from spending the afternoon at my father's house, going through all the junk in the basement, and I came in and kissed her on the head.  DH suggested that we needed to check/change DD's pull up before going out to eat (because she's still hit or miss about going to the potty).  I said I'd change her; she said that she wanted daddy to do it, because she liked him.  That was kind of puzzling, so I asked didn't she like me too?  Her response was "no, I hate you."  WTF? 

Since then, she's told me multiple times that she hates me.  And, before I started her bath, she told me that she hates everyone in the house. 

You know what, little one?  I don't like you very much right at the moment.  But I don't hate you.  And, as you well know (and often remind me of), there isn't anything that you can do that will keep me from loving you.

Damn, she's a brat.  It's not just this.  I know that kids go through this.  No, it's that she thinks it's OK to misbehave in restaurants and out in public, to ignore us when we're talking to her, and to tell us "no" when we tell her to do something. 

We will be changing the gestalt in our corner of the world.  And DD is not going to like the changes.  I can pretty much guarantee that.  No corporal punishment, because we don't practice that.  But this nonsense is over.  Clearly, what we have been doing has become ineffective.

Recently Overheard At Our House

DD:  "Mommy, after you die, you will live in my heart."

Me:  "Yes, that's right."

DD:  "Just like grandma lives in your heart."

Me:  "That's right."

DD:  "And after daddy dies, he will live in my heart too."

Me:  "Exactly."

DD:  "And after you die, I'll get your bracelets.  And daddy's rocking chair."

Um, yeah.  Little schemer.

My Little Paradox

Honestly, my daughter is a study in contrast.  Sometimes, I don't like her very much, and the feeling is mutual.  Fortunately, those times aren't too often.  But on the occasions when she's decided she doesn't like me very much, I generally haven't done anything to deserve her ire, and it really breaks my heart a bit.

Take last Saturday for example.  We had to get up early (ugh) because DD had a swimming lesson.  After swimming, we'd planned to go to an Easter extravaganza -- craft/play activities, moon walk, etc. followed by an Easter egg hunt.  DD was standing near me while I ironed her shirt, which she'd chosen, and out of the blue, she said, "I hope you get burned, mommy."  WTF?  Really, WTF?  I asked her what she said, because I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but she repeated it.  I'd heard correctly.  I told her that wasn't a nice thing to say, but I couldn't mentally let it go.

I've mentioned that I'd bought a cookie for her last Thursday to try to encourage some good behavior.  She didn't get the cookie on Thursday evening, because she got into a cat fight with another girl at school right in front of me while I was there to pick her up.  On Friday, her teacher reported that the DD and the same girl were going at each other all day.  Now, mind you, DD usually plays with this other girl all the time, even though she complains about her regularly at home.  In any event, she wasn't allowed to eat her cookie on Friday, either. 

On Saturday, after the swimming lesson and the Easter extravaganza, DD asked for her cookie.  I asked her if she really thought she deserved it, did she really think that she'd been good?  She looked down and said, "no, mommy."  When I asked why she thought she'd not been good, she said "because I said I hoped you'd get burned."  That was kind of a relief, because at least she realized how awful that was to say.  But then I asked her why she said it, and she said "because I wanted you to leave from upstairs."  Nice kid, eh?

But, in a flash, I remembered another little girl.  One who wasn't very nice either.  In fact, one who was much worse, I think.  It was me, and I was probably DD's age (three and a half), or maybe a little older.  I remembered feeling really angry at my mother, and I told her "I wish you were dead."  Can you believe it?  I actually said that.  In my defense, I was clueless about what that really meant, though I did know that I was saying something unkind.  What an awful thing to say. 

My mother didn't say a word.  She waited until I wandered off into another room, and then she hid herself.  To this day, I don't know where.  But I do remember that at some point, I went looking for her.  And I couldn't find her anywhere.  I started to panic, and I called for her.  The next thing I knew, she was back.  And she asked me why I was so upset.  I told her that it was because I couldn't find her, and she reminded me that I'd wished she was dead -- when people are dead, they go away.  That made me upset, and I told her that I didn't want her to go away and that I was sorry that I'd said that.  My mother said that God had heard me, and He sent her back to me (now, that was being a bit of a ham, but whatever).  I never, ever forgot that.

Since my mom has died, I often wonder if she's still around me.  It certainly felt that way when DD acted so mean toward me -- that experience just flashed right into my head in an "aha" kind of moment.  And I realized that while this was really unkind behavior, it probably isn't all that unusual.  It's just another teaching moment, I guess.

But I did say that DD is a bit of a paradox, didn't I?  Yesterday, I went upstairs to wake her up for the day, as I always do during the week.  DD reached out for me, and wished me a good morning.  Warm from sleep, she melted into my neck.  I asked her, as I always do, if she'd had a good night.  She told me she did.  And then I asked her, as I always do, if she'd had any dreams.  She said she had -- "I dreamed about you mommy, only you."  Really, I asked, what were we doing?  "Hugs and kisses, mommy, hugs and kisses."  And then she pulled herself closer and gave me a kiss.

Ah.  Now that was much better.

I'll Just Call Her HG For Short

HG.  Hell Girl.  As in where the hell is my sweet little girl?

Within the last 24 hours, she has:

1.  Thrown a literal fit because I was winning at Candy Land.  (This was just after I was mentally patting myself on the back because DD had finally learned how to play this game, as well as Go Fish.)  I mean, a literal fit -- she threw the pieces, the board, and the box.  Needless to say, we put it away, not just for the night, but also for the next night (because she wouldn't stop after I told her we were done for the evening).

2.  This morning, she threw a small water bottle, because I wouldn't let her fill it from her full size cup of water.  Then, she poured half of the water on the floor from the cup -- deliberately.  And, finally, she threw her graham cracker on the floor.  Now, mind you, the rule in our house is that if she throws something, she loses it.  Usually, that's enough to stop the behavior, but apparently, this was just fine with her today.  Until she realized that she wasn't going to get anything else to eat, because mommy was p*ssed off (and besides, she gets breakfast at school -- she calls the meal that she eats at home her "snack").  When I stopped for coffee at the local bakery on the way to school, I let DD choose a cookie to have later on -- provided she was good.

3.  When I picked DD up from school, I asked her to please go to the potty.  I didn't see the beginning of the altercation, but I think that C decided to push DD out of the way so that she could go first (she's kind of a little sh*t like that, and DD has a love/hate relationship with her).  So, we had a cat fight.  DD pushed C.  DD lost a privilege.  She hit C.  DD lost another privilege.  She would have kicked C as well if she could have.  I was not happy.  But neither was DD, since this meant that she couldn't have any candy this evening (the most precious of all privileges that she has is to have a few small pieces of candy in the evening).  Fortunately, DD's teacher, who didn't see what had happened, told me that this was a pretty rare event.

Needless to say, DD didn't get her cookie this evening.  And we made sure that she understood why.

I hope that whereever my little girl is right now, she comes home soon.  I really don't like the substitute.

Two Firsts

DD had her very first dance with her prince* on Friday, and she had her very first swimming lesson on Saturday.

On Friday night, DH and I left work early so that we could pick DD up and get her ready for the Daddy/Daughter dance.  I actually did the pick up, and the teachers said that the only thing that the girls talked about all day long was the dance.  And they also talked about what they were going to wear.  They were all very excited, but I couldn't help but think is this a glimpse into the future?  Is this what prom night will be like?  (I didn't go to my prom; long story.)  I've noticed before that the little girls love to gossip and compare notes -- who has what nail polish on, who's going where on vacation, and on and on and on.  It's really kind of weird to think of them as little people with a social agenda, yet they are.  But, I digress.

The dance was held at a large hotel in one of the ballrooms.  Other centers were invited to participate.  The little girls were just precious.  For the most part, they were between 3 and 6 years old, and they were all dressed in their finest.  It was absolutely adorable.  DD had on a navy blue dress, with a velvet bodice and a skirt with velvet flocking against a silk-type background.  There was just a hint of sparkle to the flocking, which matched her silver sparkle shoes and headband.  When we fastened the buttons on the dress, DD began to spin and spin and spin around the dining room.  You could tell that she felt like a princess.  And she acted accordingly -- daddy was required to carry her to and from the car, because she didn't want to get any snow on her shoes.  Of course he obliged -- soft touch that he is.

Only one other mommy came to the side bar at the hotel, and she was waiting for me.  I understand that a couple of the other moms came to the hotel, but they stayed and watched the dance.  I think that we had more fun at the bar, and it was a good thing that DH was driving.  The time went much to fast for us.  I'm not sure how fast time moved for DH.  But I think he enjoyed it as well, though not nearly as much as DD and me.  I think we should do this more often.  I understand that they have a Mommy/Daughter tea on tap next.  What a nice idea! 

But, on the down side, the teachers were not paid for their time, and even though the party was partially catered by one of those "make dinners to go" places, some of the other things were made by the teachers.  You know, I don't think that they make very much money.  As I recall, the cost was $15 for one couple, with $5 more for each additional child.  Given the cost of child care at this center, I think that the parents probably could have absorbed a bit more of the cost to at least provide some compensation for the teachers.  DH and I bought $25 dinner cards for DD's teachers and put them inside a thank you note.  It really was the least that we could do.

Saturday was DD's very first swimming lesson.  She was so excited!!  There were only four little girls in the class, including DD, and there were three instructors.  So, only one little girl at a time was sitting on the side of the pool waiting for a turn.  And they didn't have to wait very long to be picked up by one of the teachers.  We got up early so that we could go out to breakfast together (it's one of our weekend traditions).  The class started at 9:35.  It's at a private athletic club that allows you to pay an extra fee if you are not a member.  It was $70 for non-members for seven lessons.  Not bad, especially considering that members are charged $50.  I have no idea what an annual membership costs, but I can't imagine that the savings would be so great that it would pay for the difference between the member and non-member price. 

All in all, it was a pretty nice weekend.  I still can't believe how fast DD is growing up.  Sometimes, it seems like such a blur.  But it certainly is fun, and it gets better and better all the time.

* -- DD has some dress up clothes that allow her to imagine that she's Belle, Snow White, Cinderella, or Aurora (yes, we are totally enmeshed in the evil Disney princess snare).  When she is in costume, we are required to call her by the character name (she gets really p*ssed off if we don't).  DH is her prince, and she will summon him by yelling, "oh, prince!  Prince!  I need you.  Come here!"  It's hilarious.  Lately, I've been referring to him the same way.  Oddly, he doesn't come so quickly when I call.

Gee, Thanks For Noticing

One of my favorite parts of the morning is going upstairs to get DD out of bed after I've gotten ready for work at 7:00, her normal waking time.  I'm not completely dressed at that point, so we can still snuggle under the afghan on the couch without wrinkling my clothes.  Why do we do it?  Because DD still nurses twice a day, and she wants to do it first thing in the morning.  (Yes, we are still doing that.  Shut up.)  So, that's what we do.  Nurse.  And watch "Fox and Friends."

Of course, there are commercials.  Most of them aren't very interesting to DD.  But this morning, she was apparently paying attention.  There was a commercial for Nutrisystem.  For those of you who aren't familiar with it, it is a weight loss program that uses pre-packaged foods.

Now, honestly, I don't think that I've talked very much around DD about how unhappy I am with my weight.  Once, when I teased her about her cute toddler belly, she said, "yes, mommy, my belly is big like yours!"  Um, OK.  So, I guess she's noticed.  (And I guess I would have felt worse if she'd commented on my behind.)

DD watched the commercial very intently, and she heard the actors talking about how they'd lost weight on this program.  And DD said, "mommy, you should try that!"  When I asked her why, she said, "because your belly is too big."

OK then.  What DD doesn't know is that I've actually been on the Nutrisystem program since January 2nd.  It's basically a 1200 calorie a day diet that supplies the majority of the food, but you need to supplement it with dairy, fruit and vegetables.  Honestly, I think that it is the law of thirds -- a third of the food is AWFUL (and I mean awful).  A third of the food is so-so.  And a third of the food I really like.  You don't have to refrigerate it, so that's convenient.  It's still rather expensive, around $300 a month.  I've actually given up my wine during the week (sigh).  But, I don't follow the diet on the weekends.  As of last Saturday, ten days in, I'd lost five pounds.  It seems like a slow go, but I guess that's pretty good.  Considering that I eat whatever I want on the weekends, and thoroughly enjoy wine again.  It gives me something to look forward to.  I'm not sure how long I'll stay on this particular program, because I think there are programs out there with much better food, but it's a start.  And it was my New Years' promise to myself.  To at least try.

But, in any event, I hadn't mentioned any of this to DD.  But, apparently my three year old thinks I'm fat and in need of a diet.  Which is rather frightening.  She shouldn't even be thinking about dieting and being fat at her age.  I must have communicated my dissatisfaction with my body to her in some way.  I have read about six year olds who try to diet, because they think that their normal body weight is too much.  Six year olds!! 

I am really going to have to work on this issue with her.  To teach her that people come in all shapes, sizes, and colors.  And that some people aren't as able-bodied as she is.  And that all of these things are "normal."  And that she should love herself, just as she is.

Because, apparently, I haven't loved myself enough.  And she's gotten that message, loud and clear.

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.

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.

****************************************************************************************

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.

Recently Overheard At Our House

Me:  DD, were you picking your nose?

DD:  No mommy, I was just checking for bugs.

Too Good To Be True?

I've talked quite a bit on this blog about how my daughter prefers my husband over me.  It hurts quite a bit sometimes, and I admit, I have been kind of jealous of my husband.  And, I think he relishes the favored status -- he always swoops in right away as soon as my daughter rejects me and calls for him.  Perhaps this is just my imagination, but I don't think so.  I'd resigned myself to looking forward to the baby we are trying to have, since DH has so thoroughly commandeered this one.

Anyway.  I reached the end of my rope last weekend.  I was just tired of being pushed away, told that she doesn't love me, that she doesn't want me to pick her up from daycare, that she doesn't want my hugs and kisses, etc.  I was just p*ssed off.  DH said that I needed to lighten up, since DD is only three and I'm the adult, but I've never heard of a child who consistently rejects a parent as much DD has rejected me.  I honestly don't do anything to deserve it.  I do give her lots of attention and affection, and I like doing things with her (as long as it doesn't involve going to the park, which I hate).  I try to be patient with her, and when I talk with her, I treat her as a person who is deserving of respect (or at least I try to do it -- I'm not always successful).  My mom told me that DD only acts this way because she can see that it bothers me, and since she knows she is getting to me, that is a sure fire way of insuring that the behavior continues.  Whatever.

Last weekend, I told DD that if she really didn't like me, then we didn't need to have milk anymore.  Because honestly, I was just feeling like she only wanted me when she wanted milk.  And, as much as I love breast feeding, I was tired of it under these circumstances (as well as the extra poundage that I've kept on because of it).  And, I told her that she didn't need to come on my errands with me on Saturday, because after all, if she didn't like me, then she didn't need to spend time with me.  I told her that the way that she treated me -- pushing me away, throwing away my kisses, saying that she didn't want to be around me -- was just plain mean and hurtful and I wasn't going to put up with it anymore.

And, guess what?  It's only been a couple of days, but she has stopped acting like a jerk.  A couple of times, after I kissed her, she started to "throw" the kiss away.  I asked her if that was a very nice thing to do, she told me it wasn't, and she put the kiss back on her cheek.  Since we've talked about nice vs. not nice, I've been getting more kisses and hugs.  Unprompted.

Why didn't I just talk with her about it before?  I honestly wish I had.  She's becoming one of my favorite people again, and that is a nice feeling.

Rejected Again (And Again)

Recently overhead at our house:

DD:  I have a new mommy.

Me:  A new mommy?

DD:  Yes.

Me:  Why do you have a new mommy?

DD:  Because you're too old.  (Does she know right where my weak spot is or what?)

Me:  Really.  And how old is your new mommy?

DD:  21.

DH:  Well, maybe you should ask your new mommy for milk.

Me:  Yeah.  That's a good idea.

DD:  Noooooo!  You can be my mommy.  I want milllkkkk!

* * * * * * * * * * *

DD:  I want to go on vacation again.

Me:  I know what you mean.  Me too.

DD:  No, you can't go. 

Me:  Really.  So, who is going on vacation?

DD:  Just me and daddy.  You can stay home with the cats.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I feel so rejected.

It's Happening Already

In the messy, messy room that I refer to as my office, but which will someday be DD's room, there are many, many things.  It's filled with clutter.  There are boxes here from when we moved in several years ago, mostly containing craft supplies.  There are boxes of mementos that I would someday like to put in a scrapbook.  And, there are miscellaneous things that have fallen from their places and are scattered on the floor.  (I am so not exaggerating when I say it is a "messy, messy room.")

DD likes to come in and pop bubbles on some of the bubble wrap that I have in here (a remnant from moving -- I thought it would be good to save for some reason).  She also likes to play on the computer with me, and "help" me read my e-mail or blogs.  She has a favorite website that plays Christmas music -- she likes "Jingle Bells" and "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" (we don't tell grandma about this latter favorite).

Sometimes, she will look through things on the floor or in the boxes and examine them.  This morning, she found an old shoe on the floor.  It was a Robeez shoe. 

For most of her first year, she either wore socks or went barefoot, depending on the weather.  We bought Robeez as her first shoes, because we thought that they were the closest thing to going barefoot.  The shoe that DD picked up had a puppy on it.  DH came by and showed DD a pink shoe with a kitty on it.  DD wore these types of shoes until she was around eighteen months old.

The kitty shoes were DD's favorite.  She would get upset if I wouldn't let her wear them (because they were pink, and not everything goes with pink, or so I tried to tell her).  When DH dressed her, he used to sing a little song:  "We've got cats on our shoes, cats on our shoes, cats on our shoes today."  You know, just one of those silly songs that parents make up to make things go faster or easier.

I asked DD if she remembered the kitty shoes.  And she didn't.  She also didn't remember the song that DH used to sing to her.  Because, for her, that was half a lifetime ago.  I'm not so good at remembering things from half a lifetime ago either, I guess.  And, I know that people don't remember much from before they were four.  Sometimes, someone will be lucky enough to have a memory from three.

It just struck me as a bit sad somehow.  So, I will save those kitty shoes, and someday, we will find them again together.  And I will remind her how they were her favorites.  And her daddy can sing her the silly song.  And we can share with her another one of the many stories that we will keep close to our heart.

Another Year Already

DD has been at the same daycare/school since I returned to work after my six-month maternity leave ended.  There is only one other child in her class who has been there as long as she has.  I can't believe that it has been two and a half years, but it has.

I have always gotten little things to give in her name on holidays and birthdays.  But this year, I really wanted it to be really nice.  This is the first year that DD is really aware that birthdays are something special.  And that her birthday is upon us. 

So, I decided that I would get goodie bags for all of the kids to help her celebrate.  It's a little harder now, because there are sixteen kids in this room (eight to one student to teacher ratio).  I've spent the last month or so scouting around for inexpensive items that a three year old would like.  And it has been a lot of fun.  The bags had some Hershey nuggets, a small package of M & M's, some suckers, a bag of mini chocolate chip cookies, a plastic magnifying glass, a box of crayons, bubbles, a ball (that glows in the dark), and a pencil.  DD asked for Elmo party hats, and we brought those in as well as some noise makers.  We also got her favorite -- strawberry cupcakes with lavender frosting (purple is her favorite color), and, of course, they had sprinkles on top.  The teacher suggested that we bring in a disposable camera, and she promised that they would take pictures.

I think I was almost as excited as DD was.  Her teacher said that they started at around 3:00, and everyone was having so much fun, the party went on for an hour.  DD passed out the goodie bags, making sure that everyone had one.  If someone was absent, DD put the bag in the proper cubbie.  The class made her a large sign wishing her a happy birthday, and everyone put their hand print on it.  The teacher wrote down everything that each child said to DD.  And, they had a nice sign on the door, announcing that it was DD's special day.

DD was just bubbling over when I picked her up from school.  She'd had so much fun.  And, since there were pictures left on the camera, she tried her hand at photography, taking pictures of me and and her teacher.  I'm not sure how those latter pictures are going to turn out, but it was fun anyway.  When we took the camera in this evening for developing, the woman at the drugstore took the film out of the disposable camera and left the shell for DD to play with.  (Though DD wouldn't say thank you, which kind of ticked me off -- we are really going to be working on that).

This is going to be a birthday weekend all around.  We are having our family get together on Sunday, and DD picked out her birthday cake from the bakery.  I'd originally gone in to ask for an Elmo/Big Bird cake, but the woman who owned the bakery said that she couldn't do the decoration for us this year because it was a copyright infringement.  Apparently, there are spotters who order items that are popular and then seek prosecution -- given that there is a potential $250,000 fine for infringement, we couldn't get the cake we wanted.  But it worked out OK.  DD picked out a "stage cake" with Mickie and Minnie Mouse in a soda shoppe.  It's really cute.  And, it is strawberry, of course.

As much as I'm enjoying celebrating a new year with my daughter, I am going to miss having two year old.  She's grown so much this last year, and she is actually quite good company sometimes.  I've been told that things just get better and better.

I think we're going to enjoy three.

The Best Laid Plans

We had big plans for this Saturday.  Oh yes, yes we did.  We marked our calendar for June 1, because that was the first day that we could buy tickets to a "tons of trucks" type event.  It was scheduled for this Saturday.  And we thought that DD would love it.

In actuality?  It s*cked, all around.  DD wanted to be carried -- everywhere.  And since she's hovering around 30 pounds and is 36" tall, it is not as easy as it used to be.  DH and I can do it for a little while, but after that, our arms start to hurt. 

But DD wouldn't walk to the trucks.  So, we took turns carrying her, because we weren't going to give up.  Because we were supposed to be having fun!  DD wouldn't climb into any of the trucks.  Thinking that she was just being shy, we walked around with her and showed her the insides of the trucks from a distance.  She couldn't have cared less.  After awhile, we just lost patience with the whole thing and left.

There is a spray park nearby, and we had planned ahead for it.  DD had her suit on, and we'd put sunscreen on her before leaving the house.  I left to start my millions of errands for the day (we took separate cars to the truck petting event), so DH took her to the spray park.  Later on, when I unpacked the diaper bag, I took the suit out of the plastic bag that I'd given DH to carry it back in.  And?  It was dry.  I asked DH what happened, and he said that she stuck a toe in and that was about it.  After about ten minutes, he took her home.  She fell asleep on the drive back.

You know, it always seems like the things that we don't plan for are a big hit.  But the stuff that we plan ahead for?  Eh.  Not so much.

I Guess Three Is The New Two

I really wasn't looking forward to DD turning two.  I'd heard about the terrible two's, and I didn't think my patience level was up to the task.  Much to my surprise, two has been pretty good, on the whole.  But the closer DD gets to three?  Yikes.  Sometimes, she's difficult just for the sake of being difficult.  Last week, she actually tried to pick a fight with me on the way home from day care. 

By way of background, DD loves gummy bears.  In fact, I joke about needing to buy them just so that we can have something to take away from her.  (When she's bad, we warn her that she will lose a privilege if she doesn't straighten out, and gummy bears are always the first thing that she loses.)

Here was our conversation:

DD:  No gummy bears for me.  I was a bad girl.

Me:  No, your teacher said that you were very good today.  You made good choices.  If you want to have gummy bears, you may have them.

DD:  No, I was bad.

Me:  Well, if you don't want them, you don't have to have them.

DD:  (Crying)  I want them!  I want them!

Me:  Well, if you want them, you can have them.

DD:  (Crying)  I want them!  I want them now!

Me:  No, you can't have them now.  You can't have any until after dinner.

DD:  (Crying)  I want them now!

(etc. etc. etc.)

She's also gotten a little strange as she's grown older.  For example:

1.  She likes to pick out my underwear on the weekends.  I have no idea why.

2.  We often go to a family style restaurant.  In fact, we go so often, we know most of the staff and have become friends with one woman and her family.  When we sit down at a table, DD has to make sure that the ketchup and sugar are in a particular place.  And the pepper has to be in the holder that is closest to her; the salt must be put in the holder furthest away.

3.  DD insists that we have little piggies living on our driveway.  In fact, she has spun a whole story about them.  They are small, and orange.  They stand in the driveway when the sun is out.  We have to take big steps to walk over them as we walk to the garage (DH is more likely to play along; I usually just walk behind DD so she can't see me).  The piggies will move out of the way when the car backs out.  When it's overcast, the piggies stay in their house, which is on Earth, and located between the veterinarian's office and the ice cream parlor.  The piggies eat ice cream, which is why they are fat.  When we step on them, they cry.

I'm really enjoying DD's imagination.  She is forever making things up, though not usually in as much detail as with the piggie fantasy. 

But the acting out?  We're not enjoying that so much.  This evening, at the family restaurant, DD apparently decided that she was going to be a jerk.  She wouldn't sit in the booster seat, she kept crawling under the table, she started whining about any number of things, and finally, she just burst into tears (kind of tantrum-like tears).  DH took her outside until she calmed down.  She was fairly good while she was eating, though it wasn't a sterling experience.

You know, I remember the day before my scheduled C-section.  Our next-door neighbor came over to give me some words of wisdom.  She's in her 60's and her children are grown.  She looked at me thoughtfully, and I could see that she was carefully considering what she wanted to say.  She looked at me, with compassion in her eyes, and said "always remember, there is good and bad with every age." 

You know, of all the things that anyone has shared with me about raising children, I think that is the piece of advice that rings most often true.  I try to remember those words when I wish away some of the bad things, because I know that I will be losing something good as well as DD moves on with her life.

So, for now, I guess I will grit my teeth through the tantrums and enjoy the eccentricity and imagination.  And, as she stands on the brink of turning three, I will look forward to the good things and trust that we will work through the other things, just as we have always done.

She Was Just Here A Minute Ago

I often search my daughter's face, looking for the baby that she once was.  I have a picture of her in my mind, when we were alone together in the hospital those first few days.  And I can usually find the baby in her face, especially when she's sleeping.

Over the last month or so, DD has decided that we are not going to put any more pony tails in her hair ("ponies").  For the longest time, we had been parting her hair down either side and giving her a pony tail in the middle.  The longer her hair got, the more the pony tail tended to go to one side, but it kept the hair out of her eyes.  (She absolutely refuses to wear any hair clips for longer than five minutes.  She just hands them back to us.)

So, she's been walking around with hair that keeps falling in her face.  Today, I'd had enough and took her to get her hair cut.  This was not her first hair cut; that was last November.  And really all they did back then was even things up.  Today, I wanted something that would look a little nicer, a little tamer.  They stylist trimmed a little bit off the bottom to even things up a bit, and she put in some bangs.

Oh my goodness.  The transformation was surprising.  She looks like a little girl now!  I know, in my mind, that she is a little girl.  She's almost three.  But in my heart, she's still my baby.  And in a moment, the baby was gone.

My parents have often told me that I will always be their baby.  I'm only now beginning to understand what that means.  And, it makes me afraid to blink, for fear that I will miss something important.

Sometimes New Isn't Always Better

DD has been in the young preschool room for awhile now, and I have to say, we are not that impressed.  DD's teacher in the older toddler room was very, very organized.  When the kids came in in the morning, it was orderly.  They knew what to expect.  Lesson plans were detailed and provided to everyone in advance.  Wednesdays were "color days," where all the kids wore something that was the color of the day (if they had an item of clothing that matched).  DD used to get really excited about that.

The young preschool room is just the opposite.  In fairness, the ratio is 8:1, rather than the 4:1 that it was in her old room.  So I do understand that DD is not going to get as much attention.  But her new teacher, M, seems to really have her hands full.  She does have an assistant, L, who I think is closer to DD, and that's really a good thing.  I know that they are busy, but L told me that it gets really boring when the kids are napping.  So, they have a good 1.5-2 hours every day to catch up.  In fact, M suggested to L that she bring in books to read.  I think that M could spend her time writing a decent lesson plan during all this free time.

But the lesson plans are sparse, and they may or may not follow them.  And they don't have to be made from scratch -- the general programming is established by the school. For example, this month is "wild animals."  I've asked about "color day," which would be no big deal (just pick a color and write it down).  Nope.  Won't do it.

We also don't get as much detail about what went on during the day, though I do take a few minutes to talk with L when I pick DD up to find out how things went.  L and DD seem to get along very well, and I am so grateful that she's there.  She started working for the center just around the time that DD transitioned over, so they have been acclimating to the room together.

DH drops DD off in the mornings, and he says that it is just chaos in the room.  The preschoolers congregate there before their day begins, and they run around like wild ones.  It's stressful for the smaller kids.  DD doesn't tend toward shyness, but she wants DH to carry her around for awhile before she wants to get into the middle of that. 

DH said that M is usually doing something to get breakfast ready when he comes in (like spreading cream cheese on the bagels or pouring milk).  This means that she is not paying attention to the kids.  They do line up to wash hands, but there is a lot of pushing and shoving.  And there's one little boy who is really out of control (pushing and rough play), and no one seems to be working with him.  Honestly, they do have a full-time cook -- can't she get things ready in the morning?

There is one little girl who is transitioning over to the room, and she usually cries in the corner for her mommy.  I saw it last week when I dropped DD off during two of the mornings.  DH has seen it as well.  It just breaks your heart to see, and there is no one who is there to comfort her.  You know, when your child cries when you drop them off, the teachers always tell you that everything will be OK once you leave.  I guess that I always assumed that my child wouldn't be left to cry in the corner for long periods of time.  I hope that DD didn't go through that kind of struggle after her transition to young preschool, but really, how would we know?

So, after a month or so, I guess we really aren't that impressed.  The only thing that I do like about the room is that they have a show and tell day on Thursday.  They pick a letter of the alphabet, and the kids bring in something that begins with that letter.  They do all seem to like that, and some of the parents get really creative.

So, all things considered?  I guess I would give it a "C."  If it weren't for L, it wouldn't even be that good.  I hope things get better, but I can't see that happening.  That room is supposed to hold up to 16 kids, and they are well on their way to arriving at that number.  I guess this is just another challenge for DD to overcome -- one of many, I suppose.

Blah Blah And A Goat Too

This has been a hard weekend for me.  I am starting a really sucky assignment at work on Monday that will last for at least a couple of months.  If I could have quit on the spot when I was told, I would have gladly done so.  Yeah, one of those assignments.  And it's in a horrible neighborhood.  You can only go from the building to the fenced lot and back.  There's no walking to lunch.  Even if there were places to go, you wouldn't want to.  Very, very dangerous.  I have to work there Monday through Wednesday, and then spend the balance of the week at my regular location.  Hate it hate it hate it.

So, I have been savoring this weekend, trying to pretend that Monday will never come.  But, it always does, doesn't it? 

The sweetest part of the weekend was the way DD thought she was waking me up on Saturday and Sunday morning.  She's a rough sleeper, especially as she's getting close to waking, so I am always awake before she is.  That doesn't stop me from faking it though, because sometimes she will drift off again if she thinks I'm asleep.

Anyway.  She woke up, and thought I was still asleep, so she covered me with kisses on my face and said, "Good morning, mommy!"  That just melted my heart and made me want to praise God for helping us find a way to have this wonderful child.  She really does add so much to my life.  I know that I had a life before her, but it seems so very empty looking back.  Yes, it was nice to sleep in and do what I wanted when I wanted, but it lacked the richness that I have now.

On another subject -- Our handyman decided that he was going to surprise DD today.  He has a rather unusual pet -- a goat named C.  He put the goat into his girlfriend's SUV, and they both came over.  I would have been a little nervous about having a goat in my car, but I'm just like that.

DD was a little nervous at first, but then she really warmed up to C.  Unfortunately, I don't think that C ever really warmed up to us.  He seemed a little nervous, and didn't even want to eat the bread that we offered him.  And he pooped twice on the deck.  Fortunately, it's the small stuff, so we were able to sweep the little raisins off the deck onto the grass.  DD thought that was pretty interesting.

There isn't much more going on.  We've really been enjoying the nice weather that we have been having lately.  This weekend was especially good.  DD finally mastered riding her tricycle, so she went round and round the deck while DD and I enjoyed a glass of wine. 

I filled my brother in with regard to the way that my mother has been acting about her health.  I really do believe that we are going to lose her soon, and it is so silly.  DD wanted to call my parents tonight, and I told my mother that I'd let my brother know what she was doing, and we talked about how I feel about her killing herself through neglect.  She really pooh poohed it all.  She thinks that you will die when it's your time and not before.  There is certainly truth to that, but I asked her if she would think it was "my time" if I shot myself tonight.  She said no, I would be cutting my life short.  I told her that's how I feel about what she's doing.

She just doesn't get it.  She sees more doctors than you could ever imagine, but she is going to die from ignoring their advice.  I don't know why she bothers going if she's not going to listen.

I will miss her very much when she dies.  And I'm nowhere near ready to let her go.