Babies Don't Keep

So often our evening routine is a rushed frenzy of bedtime activities. After dinner and a walk, Jason scrubs the girls in the bathtub to shrieks of delight, while I ready their room and grab pajamas to dress them snugly in when bath time is over. We read a book, and then Lorelei is off to dream land with her cup of water clutched firmly in her tiny hands, while Caitlyn snuggles on the couch for some cartoon time.

Normally, by the end of the bedtime marathon, I am exhausted and ready for the girls to be down for the night. I am ready for a glass of wine and adult conversation about anything other than potties, singing toys and why peanut butter is preferable over carrots to a 3 year old.

On Monday nights, I am REALLY ready for 7:30 to roll around, and I long for a peaceful, quiet house. On Mondays, Jason has a night class, so I get the supreme pleasure of doing it all alone. Let's just say Monday is normally a "two glass" night when it comes to wine.

Today was a rough Monday. Caitlyn threw up in the parking lot at preschool, so she had to come home, and that meant we were housebound for the day. The girls and I are movers and shakers, and we hate staying cooped up inside. So, by this evening, everyone was whiney and tired.

Lorelei fussed all through dinner, and I decided to give her an early bath to try to break her sour mood. She sobbed through the bubbles, and glared at the bath toys through swollen, red-rimmed eyes. After a quick rinse, I scooped her up, wrapped her tightly in the towel and began a slow, rocking dance, punctuated by a gentle "shh, shh, shh" melody. She gazed at me with rapt attention as her shaking shoulders slowly became still, and her hiccuping cries silenced.

Not wanting to break the spell, I dressed her in sweet footie pajamas as quickly as I could, and settled down in the rocking chair, staring into her big hazel eyes the whole time. She was so sleepy, fighting off the heavy droop of her eyelids while her sweet baby scent enveloped me- really, is there any better fragrance in the entire world than that of a clean, warm baby?

Just as she has done since the day she was born, she pressed her chubby little hand up against my chest, as if she was trying to hold my heart close to her, grasping it firmly to her cheek. Little does she know my heart is already hers and always will be.

As we rocked, she took me back to the very first days of her life, and she reminded me of the first days of Caitlyn's life as well. I spent those first days with them, barely able to sleep for wanting to hold them and memorize each and every feature. Following each birth, I stayed awake the entire night through, just cradling them, unable to tear my eyes away from their precious faces.

Rocking Lorelei as she finally drifted off to sleep, my whole being was calmed, and it felt incredible to shake off the long day and just simply savor 20 minutes with my growing baby. They say babies don't keep, and they surely have it exactly right. Both of my girls are changing and maturing every day.

So I am grateful and humbled that Mama can still quiet their restlessness just by holding them close. I am thrilled that my baby-rocking days aren't quite over, and I am reminded just how sacred these little girls are- how special every moment with them is.

Bloody Fish

Apparently, my kid is the "interesting kid" at school. Allow me to explain.

Caitlyn started preschool this year, and she attends 3 mornings a week. Now, let me first say that I really love her school. It is a co-op, and all of the parents have to commit to helping in the classrooms and take on a major job to keep the school running. It has a strong reputation around here, and it is VERY difficult to get a spot. That being said, a lot of the parents are almost . . . cultish about the place, and the first question most of them seem to ask is how long we have been involved with co-op, as if there is a prize when they "beat" us with time. These are all really hands on, in your face, totally absorbed in what their kids are doing. I mean, I've always known I have those same traits, but these people are EXTREME.

Anyway, Caitlyn loves it, and I think it is a great place for her to play and learn.

Yesterday I went to pick her up, and one of the parent helpers came up to me while I was gathering her things, among them a painted paper fish on a stick.

"Oh, I see you found Caitlyn's fish. She was, uh, really creative with her painting. Umm, ha ha, we read The Rainbow Fish, and, ah, Caitlyn said she wanted to paint the fish's guts instead of his shiny scales. Ha ha ha. Where do they come up with this stuff?"

I must of given her a totally blank look because she continued, "Oh, really, I'm not saying there is anything wrong with that, I was just surprised that she wanted to paint his blood, and uh, his organs. She also, um, ah, took off his eye. What a, hmmm, special little smartie she is. Ha ha."

Great, I thought, this lady thinks my kid is Morticia and needs to see a shrink because she didn't want to paint shiny scales! I'm guessing that painting blood is #3 on the list of things to watch out for in art class, right below only using the color black and drawing knives.

I just told her Caitlyn is really fascinated by skeletons and body parts and that she just visited an aquarium with models of fish. I also told her that one of her grandfathers is a Biology professor, and she likes to visit him at work to see the models.

We said good bye to everyone and loaded up in the car. Caitlyn was so proud of her fish, and she told me all about it.

"I used red to be his blood because blood is all over your whole body. This purple part is his bladder, and that green is part of his guts."

When I asked her why she took off his eye, she told me, "His eye is on the outside of his body, so I took it off cause I wanted to draw his insides."

Hmm. Makes sense to me. Nothing remotely demonic about that. I'm proud of her for knowing about those things and not being afraid to paint what she wants when everyone else is doing something different.

Maybe if I took this picture in to show Room Mom she would feel a bit better:

I really hope, for her sake, that this lady isn't working when the kids start drawing pictures of people because Caitlyn draws two circles within each other for the head- one for the skull and one for the brain. She also adds a heart and lungs to bodies.

The Story of Smoky

I am, unequivocally, a dog person. Growing up, my dad was deathly afraid of cats (still is), so we never had one, and I've never really been a fan. I mean, dogs can cuddle with you, run with you and roughhouse. Cats . . . don't.

And it's funny that I feel that way because we now own a cat. Nermal is a rescue from the local animal shelter, and he is a very unique feline. He comes when you call him, likes to play and constantly craves companionship and attention. He is not aloof, lazy or jumpy like many cats. He never hisses. While we got him for Caitlyn and Jason, I really do like him.

Several years ago, I had a giant golden retriever named Dakota. He was almost the perfect dog, except for his awful habit of guarding his food. Dakota was incredibly well-trained (since I left my first teaching job to go train dogs!), and he was mostly just a sweet old gentle soul. Sadly, Dakota stayed with my ex-husband, and he died a few years ago from cancer. I only found out about his death this year, and though I hadn't seen him in years, I still cried over him.

Fast forward to the present, and Jason and I have a pretty full house- two girls, a cat and boys who visit throughout the year. Add in law school, preschool, work for me and we are a pretty busy family. So, the last thing we need is a dog, right? We don't have time for walks, doody duty and yet another playtime, right? Dogs are work. We don't need more work. Dogs shed. We don't need more hair. Do you see where this is going?

Yeah.

We now have a dog. A big, loveable, silly old dumb dog. Can you tell how hard I tried not to love him so much?

Last weekend we went to the Smoky Mountains to see Jason's family. It was beautiful, and we all rented gorgeous cabins for the weekend. Our cabin was at the bottom of the mountain, and everyone else was at the top of the mountain. Well, Jason decided he could run from our cabin to theirs, up the windy, steep mountain road, in less than 10 minutes. Betting and bravado ensued, and the run was on. I followed Jason in the car in case of fatigue or a bear attack, and I must admit I giggled a fair amount of the time.

About a quarter of the way up, this large dog rose out of the underbrush of an deserted cabin. He looked friendly, but Jason hopped in the car just to get past him. When I looked behind us, the big dog was now loping along behind our car, steadily plodding up the mountain. He followed us for half a mile, until we reached the top (Incidentally, Jason did the run in 8 minutes!).

Once we realized the dog was amazingly friendly and mild mannered, albeit utterly emaciated and lonely, we decided the humane thing to do would be to take him home and drop him off at the animal shelter so he would be taken care of.

Over the course of the 8 hour drive home, Smoky, named by Caitlyn and Jason in honor of the mountains, proceeded to win our hearts. He walks well on a leash, is gentle with the girls, protective of our family, picks up commands quickly and is just generally one phenomenal dog. Really, other than his large size, he is the PERFECT dog. And, skeleton that he is, he still isn't aggressive over food.

We deluded ourselves for a few days, telling each other that we still intended to find him a home. We checked with the Tennessee newspapers and animal shelter to see if someone was looking for him. But, Lorelei kept hugging him, and Caitlyn insisted that he was her doggie, and he is just so darn sweet. Even the cat sort of likes him--and Smoky licks the cat, so I would guess that means he likes the cat, too.

So, we've got a dog. Smoky. And you know what? He is a perfect fit for us- just exactly what we'd been missing.

Sometimes I wish

Since Facebook has become mainstream, I find myself re-connecting with old friends pretty often. I am terrible (really, really terrible) about keeping in touch with people, so it is perfect for me. I can spend a few minutes a day reading about my friends' lives, look through the pictures they post, converse briefly and I really feel like I am in some way connected. At this busy time in my life, I am grateful to have it.

Tonight I found a Facebook page for my old dance studio. I think I danced at Pearland School of Dance with Ms. Marsha for 12 years or so. I have so many fond memories of that little place, and I made some of the best friends of my life there. In fact, my very best friend from my childhood also danced at PSofD. Natalie and I were the best of friends from first grade, up until we got to high school and I stupidly let a dumb boy occupy the majority of my time. We drifted apart, although we still keep in touch, and it still amazes me that great minds still think alike.

Anyway, the thing that I wish is that my girls would have that. The years of friendship with one person, the familiar building where they went to dance or took art classes. Because they won't, not with Jason in the Army.

Sure, they will have other advantages that I didn't grow up with. They will travel the country, learn to adapt from a young age, make friends all over the world and learn about so many different cultures. They will learn lessons about sacrifice, courage and resilience that I didn't even need as a kid.

Right now, I've got wonderful friends all over the world, and I know I will get to move close to some as I move away from others for the next dozen years or so. My very best Army friend used to live just 3/4 of a mile away, and now she is across the country, but the friendship is for life. And that is neat, too.

But still I wish sometimes that my girls could also have that other part of childhood. The part that sticks with them as they grow up to the point that all they have to do is see a movie (Hairspray), hear a phrase (Laughter is a tranquilizer with no side effects) or visit a Facebook website to be transported right back into childhood.

Airplane restrooms from a 3 year old perspective

When the kids and I went to Texas, our flight had some interesting moments--pretty typical when one adult flies with 3 kids.

It began when we got to the airport at 4:15. Yes, that is am. As in 4:15 in the morning, before the sun is even awake, which means I had to drag 3 kids out of bed at 3:15. Which, for my kids, means that they are now up for the day.

Anyway. We got to the airport, and waited to check in. When we got up to the desk, the agent informed me that the flight was oversold, and since we had not paid to preselect our seats, there might not be space for us on the plane. Are you kidding me? You want me to wait in this tiny airport for 3 extra hours AFTER I have gotten 3 kids out of bed because YOUR company oversold the flight by a dozen people? I was really nice to the woman, hoping she would be able to help us out, and she got us onto the flight by bumping us up to business class.

Oh, I can't tell you the less-than-thrilled looks my crew and I got as we marched in single file to business class. I am sure there were lots of pleasant, happy thoughts coming our way. I got the kids settled in. Chris read the entire flight. Caitlyn, of course, talked the entire flight. And Lorelei, who normally flies so well, was fussy for a solid 30 minutes. I guess she felt it was her duty to live up to all of those dirty looks.

About an hour into the flight, Caitlyn announced that she needed to go potty. I gathered her and Lorelei, told Chris where we would be, and marched her off to the potty. I'd barely opened the door, when she eyed the tiny space and announced indignantly, "Mama, that is NOT a potty." I tried to explain that it was, but it was just smaller than normal. Having none of it, she decided she would wait until we landed. Which was great since I'd not figured out how the 3 of us were going to fit.

Shortly after we got back to our seats, I realized I needed to change Lorelei's wet diaper. I want to emphasize that it was ONLY WET. Very discreetly, as I always do on plane rides, I grabbed a fresh diaper, and changed it quickly with Lorelei laying in my lap. As I was snapping her jammies back up, ready to stow the ONLY WET diaper in a plastic bag for disposal, the loud-mouthed flight attendant shouts, as she passes us on her way through business class, "Excuse me, ma'am, you cannot change that dirty diaper here. You need to go to the restroom to take care of that next time, and I will be by shortly with a plastic bag so you can throw that dirty diaper away."

Ah, humiliation and a strong desire to let everyone know it was just a wet diaper. And I didn't smear the contents on a seat or passenger near me.

Of course, Caitlyn had to add her two cents. "Mama, you can't change Lorelei in that potty. Where would you put her?"

My thoughts exactly, Caitlyn.

Feeling ashamed

A couple weeks ago I made a joke about the amount of clothing the girls have. But tonight, I am actually feeling somewhat ashamed about the obscene state of their closet. 

My mom called to tell me about a patient she became friendly with-- a sweet little two year old with leukemia. She got to talking to the little girl's mom, and found out that the woman is actually in the process of adopting the patient and her four sisters, all under the age of 5. This kind woman, who refuses to separate the sisters, clearly has a need for a lot of little girls' clothes, so my mom asked the woman if she could give me her name, thinking I might have some clothes I could send the girls.

When Josh was little, my friend Leah gave Jason and I so many things for him--a swing, exersaucer, jumperoo and lots of clothes. Those things were so helpful to us, so I vowed that I would always pass on my baby items to someone who could use them. With that in mind, I got out the tubs of clothing I've been saving for Lorelei. Then I went through the clothes I've bought for Caitlyn. Then I went through both of their dressers.

I am ashamed by what I found.

My girls have more clothes than either of them could wear in a month. And I don't mean all of their clothes together-- I mean they both have enough summer clothes in their current size that we could easily go 4 to 5 weeks without washing. I mean that they have an equal number of winter clothes. Obscene. 

Now, to be fair, Caitlyn wears most of her clothes for at least a year, so some of her clothes for this winter are the same ones she could wear at the end of winter last year. And many of Lorelei's things are clothes I saved from Caitlyn. And, I never spend a lot of money on their clothes. I shop at the end of the season for the next year, and I can often get jeans for as little as a $1 a pair for cute, embroidered Arizona jeans. Or $5 for a Gymboree dress-- you get the picture. But those are just no excuse for the copious amounts of clothes.

So, tonight I went through everything, and Caitlyn helped me pick out more than 100 items we can send to these 5 little girlies in Texas. It was actually quite fun to work on it with Caitlyn, and I was proud of her for wanting to share her things with others. I was really proud when she picked out some of her favorite things (like a Disney princess shirt that still fits) to share.

We went through items that still had tags on them, and we are sending a lot of those, too. No little girl needs 8 pairs of jeans, even if they do cover two sizes. 

But regardless of how good it felt to share with someone else, the simple fact is that I am ashamed that we had so much to share. No matter how little we actually spent on the clothes, it is just ridiculous to have so many. This is something I am going to remember when it comes time to shop for next year. We may still buy just as much, but all of it will not go into my girls' closet.

Lorelei the Daredevil

Lorelei possesses some gene that Caitlyn does not. Caitlyn was always on the move, but she generally stayed on stable ground. 

Lorelei does NOT.

She climbs, slides, pulls and generally does everything she can to risk her life. I usually shut all of the doors in our bedroom (closets and bathroom) since it is a fairly benign room that normally doesn't lead to trouble. Today I found Lorelei on top of two boxes in Jason's closet. (Bad Daddy for leaving that door open!)

As I type this, she is perched with one foot on a toy and the other trying to curl around the desk for leverage, reaching over for a cup. Death wish?

She does these devilish little things, and then when she gets caught, she giggles and grins. And then, she is content to snuggle in my arms.