Category Archives: Parenthood 101

she dances

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Seems like just yesterday the little birdie started walking and now she’s dancing her (big) heart out in head-to-toe pink in her first “creative movement” class. As I was looking through the windows of studio 3, I had one of those “how did I get here?” moments. In a good way. Cue the Talking Heads music…

I had mixed feelings about going down this pink and frilly rabbit hole, but Wren couldn’t be more thrilled about it. So I am too. Plus, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen anything cuter than a bunch of chubby toddlers in pink leotards and tights, skipping around a dance studio. Have you?

 

potty training…

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I know, I know. You’ve been waiting your entire lifetime for this post. And here it is: potty training part one (or “toilet learning” for y’all Montessorians out there). I know people who have successfully completed the 3-day intense potty training method, but instead, we’ve been using the eight month+ fits-and-starts method. Without great success, duh. Enter: stickers and a sticker chart! Fun! Exciting! Interactive! Visual!

If you count using stickers to decorate the potty, this has been a wildly successful method for us and I highly recommend it… In terms of motivating the little birdie to use the potty on a regular basis? FAIL.

We have also just entered the wanting-to-use-all-the-public-restrooms phase of learning and this is, err, interesting. But since I’m 33 weeks pregnant and have to use the toilet all the time myself, this is somewhat convenient. But it’s just really not all that charming to be married to the toilet right now, lovelies. Sigh. I was reminded the other day, however, to embrace the season of life I’m in right NOW so embrace the toilet I am trying…

What season of life are you embracing right now? Happy Monday!

Wrenegade

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Toddlers. Just like the old adage warning you not to trust a skinny cook, do not trust anyone who says that they don’t remember their toddler being defiant, irrational and insane. They are probably insane themselves. Or have clearly selectively forgotten those harrowing minutes | days | years. Most likely a bit of both. It’s survival, lovelies!

It’s a funny thing with these feisty, chubby-wristed people. On the one hand, I admire how reckless and free-spirited they are. How they don’t give a f*** what you say, think or feel most of the time. How their raw, unpredictable emotions seemingly live on the surface of their perfect skin. How much energy they have and can easily wield at you when you feel like you’re just catching a break. How they can give you the wettest kisses and the tightest hugs. And mean it. How they’re completely uninhibited and will say anything, wear anything, and express themselves with complete wild abandon. It’s actually refreshing to be around this kind of chaotic energy after spending most of my adult life around inhibited adults in various work and social settings.

But sometimes after the third frustration tantrum in one morning because I started to peel the orange too much or didn’t serve the cereal in the correct bowl or had to wrestle the little birdie to yank the poopy panties off, well, I do it self, Mama!!! isn’t really all that charming anymore.

I know, I know. You say I will be grateful for this feisty independence and confidence when she’s older and I do agree with you, but I can’t help to wish for a bit more compliance from time to time. I wish someone had told me to relish the days when it was easy to get the little birdie dressed and out the door–in under 90 minutes of dawdling, negotiations and shenanigans. It didn’t seem like it at the time, but babies are EASY. I know this sentiment will come back to haunt me in a few months when I’m whining about never sleeping and how the world’s a blur of yellow diapers and lots of crying. Please just don’t say I told you so… I’ll probably say it myself.

Actually, today has been wonderful so far. I warned her that we had to leave the playground in a few minutes and when it was time to go, she actually followed my directions. No flailing tantrums, no running away, no screaming like it was the absolute end of the world. I’m not sure what created this or even what might have encouraged her more compliant behavior because I don’t think I did anything differently than the last time we went to the park and I ran into Meltdown City. Oh Wrenegade, how you baffle me. And inspire me too. XO

Happy weekend, lovelies. May you do something with reckless abandon like your inner two-year-old!

creative movement

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I registered the little birdie for a “Creative Movement” class this fall. Not that she seems to need much help in this area especially when she’s inspired by Lake Michigan’s crashing waves, but I think she’ll have a BLAST. She’s such a natural little dancer that I sometimes don’t want to dance in front of her in fear that she’ll be influenced by my movements… or lack of.

The class requires that she wear pink tights, a pink leotard, ballet shoes and pull her hair back. She is ridiculously excited about this part of the class. Who IS this girl again? Did she really come from me? Boggled.

How was your weekend, lovelies?

balance schmalance

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At first I was disappointed when I grabbed yesterday’s photos from my camera.  I was looking forward to seeing some gorgeous images from our cloudy morning at the water’s edge. But my exposures were all messed up and I still don’t exactly know how it happened. So instead, the images are all blown out! Boo hiss. But when I spent more time looking at the photos, I started to see the beauty in the mistakes. In the rushed moments.

The other day I received a message from a friend who said that she admired how I seemed to have it all together. Ha ha ha! I replied that it might seem that way from a carefully-curated glimpse into our world via this blog, but that usually means that I haven’t taken a shower in two days. Or if I made a great meal, it means that there is likely a mildewy pile of laundry awaiting me in the basement. Or if I meet all my client’s deadlines, then the little birdie is probably having a meltdown right behind me as I e-mail the last ad off to the paper. Or if the house looks clean and organized it means that I’m procrastinating my client’s work. Or if I somehow (miraculously) am wearing a clean outfit and have some mascara on both sets of eyelashes, you’ve got to know that I probably had some help with the little birdie that day, which enabled me to find time and energy to think about what I was putting on… Balance, schmalance.

And you know what? Some days this juggling act drives me (a bit) crazy. But most days, I just accept it as my version of “normal” and do the best I can with the cards that are dealt that particular day, with the deadlines that are ever-looming, with the tantrums that maybe could have been prevented, with the raspberry jelly stains on my growing bump.

yikes

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The title of this post might more aptly be called “anxious” or maybe “worried” or during a few choice moments every day, “terrified.” I know people have more than one child every single day and still others have many more than just one child (take, for example, The Mom across the street with 13!) But lately just having ONE (feisty! strong-willed!) child seems like a lot. Today marks the 27th week, which means I’m really getting into the third trimester now. This also means that there are only about three months (plus some pocket change?) left until we welcome another little birdie to our nest. Yikes!

I’m not really worried about taking care of the new baby (although I should probably add that to the worry list, ahem) or even much about labor & delivery. Been there, done that… I’m mostly worried about, well, everything else. How will I have enough love for another child? How will I keep Wren from killing the new baby when she realizes it isn’t going away? How will I find time to continue my work? How will I be able to make healthy meals and keep the house in a *reasonable* state? How will I ever have time for Chris again? How will I go to the grocery store or run an errand with a baby attached to me and a toddler running for the hills?

Again, I know people do it all the time, but I just can’t really picture how it’s all going to look and feel. I guess this is part of the wonder and mystery of life’s unknowns. The unknowns that keep life interesting, worth getting up in the morning for. Good intentions go a long way, right? Say yes, please.

In the meantime, I’m nesting. It helps to devote the worried energy to practical things, no? I decided we just needed to paint the house right now because I couldn’t take the peeling paint anymore. Great timing, ha! Truth be told, I’m just trying out paint colors on the back of the house, but the process has begun. I’ve also been organizing and reorganizing the little birdie’s toys in some new-to-us bins that I found on Craigslist (thank you, stranger!) Already, she’s discovered toys that had been buried at the bottom of the old bins. It was totally worth it. On the cooking front, I made a big pot of split pea soup the other day. You know you have a pregnant brain when it’s 87 and humid and you decide that cooking a big pot of split pea soup sounds like a good idea. Yeah. I also made a huge batch of homemade granola bars in an effort to have healthier, not-from-a-bag snacks on hand. So it feels good to be creating things, cooking healthy meals, focusing on what we have control over now because I know pretty soon it will all be thrown up into the air. And hopefully some of it will be caught.

Have any tips, lovelies? Please and thank you.

thorough

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At first I was a bit annoyed that the little birdie emptied out all the raisin boxes, but she was just so proud of her work. And when I thought about it for a minute, I too was proud. She opened up all the boxes, emptied them out into her little pan and (eventually) put the boxes in the recycling bin. At least she’s thorough! She might even have eaten a few along the way. A few.

How’s your week going, lovelies?

it just doesn’t get any fresher

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I don’t really like peas. Sugar snap peas, yes. But shelling peas? Not so much, thank you. So I’m not sure what made me throw a shelling pea seed pack in my cart late this winter. I think it might have been because they’re such a beautiful plant and easy to plant for tiny hands? Regardless, it was one of the best decisions I’ve made this year! Picking, shelling (shucking?) and eating the peas right off the vine is one of the little birdie’s favorite things to do right now. “S’more peas, Mama?” or “pick SELF, Mama!” are common words out in the back yard this week.

I just love to hang back and observe the little birdie in her work. She’s so focused and serious about the process. So proud of what she can do! I watched her reach high for the peas she wanted, pull hard and yank them off the vine, sometimes making her tumble back into the dirt or on top of a broccoli plant: “uh oh!”  Then over again and again, undeterred.

I was full of awe at her determination and in those moments, I thought again how I had no idea I could love someone so much. At the same time, wondering how I could find more love for the other little birdie on its way. Trying to remind myself that I’ll be surprised again by the capacity to love, to expand, to nurture.

cha cha cha changes

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You know the story, lovelies. When you’re completely immersed in life with a little person every day, most changes just creep up on you without too much notice. I often feel like a helpless frog in that proverbial pot of boiling water… One day, whamm-o! You wake up and they’re two going on fourteen. Where-oh-where did my little baby go?

Last year the little birdie wasn’t even walking yet at the Cherry Festival and this year? We walked up to her first ride and I told her that I could go with her. “No, Mama, I do it SELF!” I cried: happy | sad | proud | full of awe.

Just like that (frog talking here), the little birdie flew away. For a little while anyway. It’s like a dance we play at this age – pull away, come running back, pull away. Testing what independence feels like. Scary and fun, just like escaping into the unknown of a giant blow-up rainforest.

 

it’s a…

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thumb-sucker! Sorry, lovelies, we didn’t find out the sex of the baby yesterday, although truth be told, this Mama kind of wanted to know this time around. But Chris wanted to wait so we agreed not to find out. Plus the tech said that the baby had its legs crossed anyway, so it would’ve been difficult to find out. It was just meant to be. The surprise at delivery IS fun too, isn’t it?

More importantly, however, the baby looks healthy. All is well. Keep on, keepin’ on.