Girls

Here are a couple of videos to illustrate the blossoming awesomeness of sisterhood!

First inklings of true empathy

So, Wednesday, Gillian and Addie and I went up to the "coffee store" to get a little breakfast while the kitchen floors (newly sealed) were drying. Gillian was decked out in full-on fairy princess attire (magic musical wand, wings, rainbow socks, sparkly pink skirt, pink princess crown, etc.), and she was bestowing everyone we passed (even cars waiting at the stop light) with blessings and good wishes. (can I say that not a single person could resist a huge smile at the spectacle of Her?) We got to the coffee store and ordered our drinks and breakfast sandwiches, and sat down at a table to eat. Before long, a woman and toddler (17 months) came in to visit one of the employees (they were clearly his wife and daughter), and Gillian and Addie both wanted to play with her. Gillian was completely enamored of this child (Evelyn) and was all gentle and sweet with her. Addie wanted to poke her eye out and kept pointing at it exclaiming "EYE. EYE. EYE!" (sometime I feel like I live in a psychedelic alter-universe). Gillian then decided she wanted to share her magic wand with Evelyn and they played some more. Evelyn was SO in to the wand, so you can imagine the tragedy of having to leave and take the wand with us. Evelyn's little face crumpled into tears-a complete lack of understanding about toy ownership; in her constant state of presentness she was confused as to why one minute she had this fabulous new toy, and the next it had to be taken away.

So, we left. The minute we left, Gillian started saying how she was sad that she made Evelyn cry by taking away the wand. She said she wanted to go back and give the wand to her so she could be happy, and that she could borrow it and we could get it next time we see her. I told her we might not see them again, but she could give it to her if she thought it would really be ok if she never got it back. So, about half way down the block, Gillian said, firmly, "I want to go back to the coffee store and give her this wand. I have my pink one at home." Mind you, the pink one is made of a paper towel tube and some streamers, and definitely doesn't play magic blessing music, so this was BIG for Gillian. She deliberately wanted to give a superior toy to a total stranger. So, we went back to the coffee store. We went in, and Gillian went over to the baby and her Mama, and held up the little wand-in all truthfulness an offering of likely only momentary happiness for Evelyn (but I will never say anything except that Evelyn will probably play with the wand under rainbows with unicorns, kittens, and sunshine for the rest of her life). Evelyn delightedly took it and started waving it around and pressing the button to make music like Gillian had shown her. He mother said "Are you SURE?! Wow...you must be the best big sister in the world!" (I kept my snort at this comment inaudible). Evelyn's Mom dabbed the tears away at the corner of her eyes at Gillian's utter selflessness, and I got a lump in my throat too. Because here, smack dab in the middle of the hellish 3s, I saw that my girl knows what is right, and has a big heart, and that she will be ok. We will all survive this phase.

I knelt down and looked her in the eye and told her how proud I was that she wanted to make the little girl feel better and was willing to give one of her favorite things away to do that. We left again, Gillian skipping ahead, feeling buoyant by her own ability to make someone else happy. On the way home, we talked about how she had filled all our proverbial buckets and how good it feels to to that.

Home

There is this house we came across, and it's just so us. And I could imagine our girls safely running around in the back yard, watching them while I am cooking dinner from the kitchen. We made an offer, and we waited for the verdict from the sellers after assessing an offer from another potential buyer, and the sellers are completely unrealistic, so the other potential buyers walked. I guess that's what happens when you overprice your property in a market akin to a SLUG. But the status now is that we are waiting to see if they accept our second counteroffer, and then we begin the mad dash to get our place ready for a market we can probably not sell in. Because our purchase will have a sales contingency. I am not optimistic about our ability to sell our condo, but I hope our loving restoration and building updates will make an impression on someone, and we can beat the odds.

But here's the thing. I had this big plan to live here for 10 years and pay this condo off, at which time we would buy something in Florida and have our summer and school year residences. All of this sounds nice over a glass of wine, but really thinking about yanking Gillian out of Chicago at the tender age of 13 sounds miserable (because I totally remember 13 years old, and wouldn't wish it on anyone, much less someone starting over someplace). And then we were discussing the idea of maybe having more children. Yes, I went there. More. Children. It is quite possible that I am completely mad. Aside from this three-year-old-hell, I love being a mama, and one day I want to have another child. But that aside, Sean and I looked at eachother and had an epiphany that we don't want to live in Florida except to be near his parents...and truthfully, there is more to consider than that. We love this city. We love the intelligence of public transportation. I love my job. We love Anna for our children. We love being 1 block from Lake Michigan and parks. Sean has more work prospects here. We have a church community we love and it has an affiliated school that is perfect for our kids (and not too expensive as far as parochial schoools go). So, the scale tipped back toward Chicago.

So, there's the house, and our plans to grow our family a little more, and a condo that is so expensive. Did I mention that? We spend $1020 a month on stuff that is NOT a mortgage for the priviledge of living here. If I added that to our mortgage, we could totally afford a HOUSE in this city. But honestly, I have been all Zen and rational about this (maybe for the first time in my life about something like this), and it wouldn't take much talk myself out of the house. It is a bit scary to have the financial burden 100% on you (unlike our condo, where it falls on 26 units). It is not EXACTLY done the way I would want (for example we tore out half-assed pergo floors and paint-caked trim in our condo five years ago, and yet the house has all of that in various places); BLUE kitchen countertops; unfortunate upstairs porch enclosure with unfortunate tearing out of original italianate under-roof mounts...Sean would have to insulate the garage for a shop (which would take some time)... But. Most importantly, we love the community around us. Our neighbors are more like family, and I love feeling like we live on Sesame Street on a lazy Summer evening, when everyone is out on their porches or in the garden hanging out. Darla and Kate are like Gillian's aunties (away from aunties), and she truly loves them bunches. In fact, Darla and Gillian have a date this weekend. So, there's all that. Oh, and our AWESOME new porches. So, we are oddly ambivalent about the whole thing. That all said, the house is about a 10 minute walk from where we live now, so there's no reason to get dramatic (we can see everyone as often as we do now, but just won't be able to holler off the porch at them), but it is amazing to see everyone out and about everywhere you go in the neighborhood. I don't think you get that as much in neighborhoods with single family homes.

So, light a candle that this all works out, but we are so totally ok if it doesn't. If it is God/The Universe's will, our place will sell in a reasonable time frame for a reasonable amount of money. And we will have our forever-house that has enough space for our growing family. And is close enough to The Neighbors We Love to make it OK.

Odds and Ends

Oh, how I neglect writing about Adelaide. I gave you play by plays of every breath Gillian took, and Adelaide lives her life in anonymity because blogging falls by the wayside. But for a moment, I have to tell you how absolutely delightful Addie is. Addie is sweet and funny. Right this very moment, she loves to dance and kicks her legs up when she’s shakin’ what her mama gave her. She leans in for many sweet kisses and goes “mmmmmmmmmmmmmm-mah!” when she makes contact. She loves a quick snuggle, but is very busy, so doesn’t linger long in your arms (unless she’s feeling under the weather). She is very chatty, and mostly sounds like she’s speaking Japanese, inflection and all. She imitates every single sound, so Gillian saying “tickle-tickle-tickle!!” in a high pitched voice sounds like “dee-dee-dee-de-de-de-de” from Addie in the exact same tone. I can tell when Addie says “kitty cat”, “bye-bye”, “Hi!”, “boobie”, “poopie”, “baby”, “bottle”, “Papa”, and “Mama”. Other words are not nearly as obvious. Addie still makes a habit of pooping in the bathtub nearly daily. If not in the bathtub, sometimes on the floor after a refreshing bath and while I am drying Gillian off. We call her The Mad Pooper. In fact, anything brown or debris-like is “POOPIE!”, like crushed dead leaves on the stroller foot rest yesterday (I guess one could argue that it kinda looked like bathtub debris)..

Addie takes Gillian in stride, and hits back when hit, and snatches back when Gillian snatches from her. Of course, I struggle with the fairness issue, which is apparently all the rage when you’re almost-four-years-old. So, when Addie steps on Gillian or hits her, it’s an accident. When Gillian does the same thing, she gets a time out. See? Not fair! She is totally not down with the differential treatment. So, that’s a tricky discussion. Mostly it goes like this “When Addie does that, she doesn’t understand what she’s doing. You have to be a big girl and show her how to act. If you do it back, it becomes a game or it shows her that hitting is ok, and it’s not. Mama or Papa or Anna will make sure Addie stops. When you were a baby, we didn’t hit you back when you hit because you didn’t know what you were doing, just like Addie doesn’t know.” Boy is that a doozie of a complicated explanation. I mean, even elementary rationale can arrive at the fact that my explanation is complete utter BS. So, add the unfairness to the “we’re-putting-you-out-to-pasture-in-PreSchool-while-we-sit-around-with-Addie-all-day-playing-and-having-fun-and-eating-ice-cream” and you have a touchy situation and a very disgruntled little princess who has ALWAYS been the Center of the Universe. Until that Stupid Baby was born, anyway.

Needless to say, Gillian has a conscience. It was with shame that after (ONCE) saying “I HATE ADDIE”, and me answering that with “Well, that’s so sad, because Addie loves You”, she said “well, I love her too, but I want to play with you.” So, I try and I try to give her words to express how she’s feeling so it doesn’t come across as physical anger. Yesterday, she actually said she wanted Nonni all to herself. That was a breakthrough and a little warning that Addie would only bare the brunt of Gillian’s jealousy if we didn’t have concrete time visiting her grandparents by herself.

In the end, I am sure my girls will grow closer as they get bigger and as Addie becomes more fun to play with. I see glimpses of the future, and it is giggly and bright. But being almost-four-years-old is rough, and that’s a fact.

Personality

Addie’s new favorite game is to get right in your face. Her eyes widen, she gets intense. Then she pushes you slowly back, grunting like she’s exerting LOTS of effort (even when you are playing along and fall back willingly). You fall back and make a pretend crash sound. Sometimes she comes along for the ride and giggles and squeals in delight. You lay there, motionless. She grabs your shirt, or neck or arm and grunts like she’s sloooooooooooowly pulling you back up and exerting even more effort than when she pushes you down. She looks even more intense. Repeat. I love funny Addie.



Another silly little game is pretending she is taking bites of pretend soup from a little spoon out of an empty bowl. I wasn’t aware of how soon imaginary play begins, but it delights her to no end to “feed” us.

Easy Button

Gillian's sleep/more severe behavior problems? Eliminate nap (CHECK). So much better now. She's dead asleep by 8:30 most nights.

Addie's granite bullet poops? THE RIGHT WATER CUP (with straw). (check). Now she has diarrhea in the bathtub every night :/ , but at least she's not miserable anymore. Amazing what hydration can do for you! But, what's with incomplete digestion with these babies? I totally recognize what's coming out the other end. Kinda like a scavenger hunt. Hee!

Just a couple of musings. Life is gooooooooooooooooood.

One Year Old

Today, you are one year old. You are a ray of sunshine-pure and sweet and good-a bundle of innocence. Even at the tender age of almost-four, Gillian has started to lose that absolute untarnished purity. But for now, you my angel, feel only unprocessed emotions-and they are 90% love. No manipulation, no bartering, no negotiation, no story telling, no tantrums, no grudges; just forgiving, and generous, and precious. I have kissed you a million times. I love to inhale the intoxicating smell of your sweet head. I nibble on your chubby little toes. Your smile humbles me, every time. Your delighted squeals when I kiss your neck or belly or feet are music to me.

When I watch you stagger down the hall with your new walking skills and babbling about Something Very Important, I get this sting of grateful tears-that God has entrusted me with your precious soul-MY beautiful baby. Pure as new fallen snow. I get the privilege of watching you explore, and discover, and learn for a lifetime. I wasn’t sure I had enough room for you in my heart next to Gillian, but you taught me that my heart is endlessly vast. I am reminded every time I fall in love with you all over again. Every time I open the door in the morning and you greet me with excitement (to know, without question how important I am to you); every time you bestow me with an open mouthed kiss, every time you pat me back when I hold you so tight after your before-bed nursing, every time you triumphantly show me some new wonder (and for you, they truly never cease) and remind me of how magnificent this world is-flawed and all-through your eyes, completely perfect right now… And I wish I could put how we feel in these moments in a time capsule, the love we have for each other.

For now, I want you to know, on your first birthday, how infinitely you are loved. How I absolutely adore you. How I rise and fall on your laughter and tears. How there is no good that exists that I will not fight to give to you. How I will move heaven and earth to protect you. You are the manifestation of my sweetest dreams, and I know how blessed I am. I promise to work every day to be worthy of the gift you are to me.

A little poem for you that I have always loved, my darling:

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every [flaxen J] tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
-Lord Byron

Love, Mama

In the midst of it.

Gillian has been making us WORK for the past month or so. She is back in a test-and-see phase, and it’s utterly exhausting. She will yell from the couch “MORE LITTLEBEAR!!!!!!!!!” when she wants us to put on her second morning show even when she knows Addie is sleeping (or maybe because Addie is sleeping?). She will tell me to do something “RIGHT NOW,” (and then she might tack on an “I MEAN IT, MAMA. NOW,” as a kicker). If I ignore the hollering, she starts screaming “MAAAAAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” like she is being stabbed in the eye with an ice pick. She says NO a lot these days, followed by an “I don’t want to”. I swear Sean said, matter-of-factly, “Go to your room. You don’t talk to your mother like that” this weekend. To a THREE year old. Given this, can you imagine what 13 will look like? The there’s the perpetual getting on Addie’s case (No, ADDIE! NO,NO,NO ADDEEEEEEEEE!!!!) no matter what she does, and the casual shove or kick.

On top of it all, sleep has been a world class nightmare these days, as Gillian simply cannot go to sleep at night. I mean, she’s tired. But, even after the few attempts to break out with “I’m just not tired” or “I can’t get to sleep” or “I’m scared in there by myself” or “I just want you!”, she will sit in her room and look at books for 1-2 hours. She has still been napping, but I think we’ll try scrapping that in an effort to get her down at a reasonable hour. On top of wearing her out (which unfortunately has a triple effect wearing us out), which worked like unicorn magic yesterday (a full day topped off with a awesome picnic in the park with Francie and family wiped her out good-no trips out of her room last night, and snoring commenced within 10 minutes of tuck in).

We try to do the right things. We try not to engage her. We try to be calm and not reactive. We try to be consistent. I guess at this point, we just keep doing the same things we’ve been doing, and hope it blows over. SOON. I am often amazed how little people talk about this phase. Unless my child is the only challenging one on Earth. I mean, how do people SURVIVE this without talking about it?

You think you’re on the brink….but then, days like yesterday, she’s like a little angel who has fallen to earth, radiating effervescent kindess and good will all over the place. It’s almost like she knows you’re seriously losing it, and has to lure you back with saccharine goodness. She is polite, sweet, accommodating, and helpful. It seems these qualities come out most when we ask her to help with things she perceives as “grown up”. Also, we spent some hours alone (without Papa or Addie) grocery shopping, and we had a blast talking and singing and shopping. She loved loading up her little cart at Whole Foods with fruit and veggies she picked herself, and putting all the food on the belt at the register. She even walked her little cart back where it went, proudly telling me that “now another little girl is going to use it.” Everyone at Whole Foods, and Target, and Jewel were like “WHAT A BIG GIRL YOU ARE!!!” or “YOU ARE SUCH A GREAT HELPER TO YOUR MOMMY” or “WHAT A PRECIOUS LITTLE GIRL!!!!!!!!!!”. I smiled demurely, thinking yeah, you don’t know the HALF of it, lady... So, if I could think of something important for her to do every second of my day (the idea makes me want a nap) then my hypothesis is that Gillian would be an angel child.

A World of Poo

Addie, unfortunately, has inherited my bowels. This is sad for a number of reasons, such as:

1) People who live mostly on breastmilk and vegetables deserve better than that...seriously, how can you be constipated with a diet of vegetables and breastmilk?
2) Babies deserve to have an easy time of pooping since everything else (expression, mobility, rational thought, etc.) is rather difficult;
3) This results in her having poop like tiny pebbles of granite, which could easily break plate glass if aimed properly;
4) She strains, grunts, and cries to produce a tiny pebble poop the size of a pencil eraser;
5) She's not quite a pro at sippy cups, and consequently, water intake...and so we go....

But lucky for Addie, there is a clean, fun, safe bathtub to relax in after a tough day of playing. So as relaxing as our wonderful, bright, and cheerful bathroom is, Addie can't stand to be in that tub without pooping. We see her stand and grunt, or squat and grunt, and the pebbles are forthcoming. Gillian, characteristically, laughs and says "ADDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!", and informs me that she pooped. I get my little fish net out and scoop up the rabbit pellets before Addie decides to see what they taste like. So, not so much use for the fish, but lots of use for the poop (like, every day use). A day in the life, or something like that.

Thoughts

So, lots swirling around right now. Gillian started school on Monday (or, rather, CAMP, as she likes to remind me). But, still. She is away from my sphere of influence for four hours a day, five days a week. But that's not the hard part, exactly. It's that she's in someone else's sphere of influence. Most likely, lots of somebodies. Can you indulge me for a second as I tell you the heartbreaking story of yesterday?

Apparently, the glee over the "things that dry the doll's hair" in the toy bin from Monday waned on Tuesday. Yesterday, I asked her how camp was and she told me there was a boy there who wasn't nice to her. (He also revealed that he had a Papa and no Mama (somehow)-aside: ENTER having to explain alternate social structures of relationships as Gillian notices families different than hers.) I guess they have a buddy system when walking around outdoors around roads and such and have to hold hands, and he was her buddy. She said he "looked at [her] mean" and "tried to hit" her. Now, if you can give me some slack for the momentary rage I felt for this kid....and then how tragically sad I felt that it had never occurred to Gillian that some people won't love her in this world. Because then she turned to me and solemnly said "Mama, why was he mean to me? Why doesn't he like me?" And I got an immediate lump in my throat. Because what do you say to that? I just offered that maybe he had had a bad day, and that she should try to be even nicer to help him feel better. I wish that would be the last time I heard those questions from her, but I assume I will hear it thousands of times by the time she's a teenager, and hundreds of thousands of times after that.

And today I dropped her off for the first time (I am home on Wednesdays), and she whispered "that's the boy who was mean to me" and pointed to a unmenacing looking curly-haired boy. He looked like he was quite a bit older than he should be for their camp class of not-more-than-5 year olds, and seemed engrossed in some building project. I am sure we will talk again today about him, but it's nice to have a visual. She was clingy to me at drop-off, and the teacher offered Stella as a playmate. Stella (sweet and 3-4ish and friendly) came to collect Gillian, who buried her face in my legs, and Stella, rejected, walked away. Sometimes I worry about G's standoffishness, and this didn't bode well for friend-making. I'll just hope she's more independent and open when I'm not there (since Sean swears I bring that out in her and that "WE (he and Gillian) don't have those problems").

But none of this is to say that Gillian isn't SUPER READY for preschool. She needs to play with kids her age instead of two 11 month old babies. She needs to learn the social skills of play and what is and is not acceptable to others through reinforcement, trial and error. And she needs to learn that sometimes you play something you don't want to play with someone to make someone else happy, or to cultivate friendship with someone else. Case in point-Sunday we went to the pool and a little girl named Maddie was circling and trying to engage Gillian, who ignored her. She wanted to share Gillian's baby doll, which Gillian was not wild about, but allowed. Then she threw the ball at Gillian in hopes she would play catch (to which I said, "Look, the little girl wants to play with you!") and Gillian informed me "NO, she's getting on my NERVES." Wow. Lesson #2,456: censor what we say, even when we don't think she's listening.

So, Gillian is going through it a little. We are hitting a tough phase again. I was heartened to read that she is pretty typical with my cursory search for why she would have started fighting bed time again (we were doing so well). But I kindof dig the idea of periods of equilibrium and disequilibrium that are phases of normal developmental behavior. So, between 3.5-4 we are in a phase of disequilibrium. Disharmony. If the shoe fits.... These days when bedtime rolls around she insists that she's not tired, that she isn't ready for bed, that she just wants to play for "a little while"....stall, stall, stall. Once she's in bed she comes out to tell us she's not tired (still), can't fall asleep, is scared, you name it. This goes on for 1-2 hours. Even though she usually comes out three times, we hear her in her room playing, or reading, or singing, for a very long time before it's quiet. I had previously been delighted to realize she was still napping when most kids aren't, but it might be time to cut naps out and see what happens. Maybe that 12 hours should be a solid block and not include a nap. We will test that theory today. If that doesn't work, I am afraid it's back to less desirable options-towing the hard line.

I am starting to think it probably never gets easier to parent as children grow, just more complicated.