Just because

I love this pic of my little angel girl. I also love that today Gillian was making "bean soup" by cutting playdough "noodles" into pieces and putting it in her pot to cook. She served me a plate and told me it would "help you poop, Mama". See, she is listening, after all.

Christmas week

We had Christmas at our house on Sunday the 21st, the morning before we flew down to New Orleans to spend Christmas with Sean's parents and the Charbonnets (including Gillian's greatgrandmother, Adee). Unlike last year, Gillian really got the opening presents thing, and she pretty much refused to do anything without Baby Jesus from our Nativity scene for a couple weeks before that...and she had so much reverance for him. No pretending he was eating or going to bed. Just gentle touches and kisses. Very odd.
Christmas day for us was cozy. We couldn't help but think that next year will be more wild-but it will be here in our own home. The biggest gift for her was a drum set-fully functional, and a real instrument for kids 3-11 years old. She has shown such an ear for melody and rhythm that we wanted to encourage her. Obviously music lessons on melodic instruments will come, but she is just not able to process the discipline of lessons just yet, so we'll hone her rhythm skills for now. Sean built her a little stage with a little rug (complete with Christmas lights) to perform on. Here is a clip from her first jam session (punk rock Twinkle Twinkle Little Star-note the angst!):


Monday morning we headed out to the airport, and had a seamless check in, thanks to Sean's secret check in area and secret security line (if we had gone the way of Everyone Else, we definitely would have missed the flight). Timing was great, but then we sat on the plane for an hour. An hour of inconvenience seems like a blessing compared what might have happened had we tried leaving in the afternoon. O'Hare flights were a disaster for days after we left due to snow and ice.

Nonni and Grandaddy met us at the airport and Gillian went right to Bill like she sees him every day (Skype literally removes any weirdness between her and them after time apart). And just like last year, Sean's bag was lost by United (though last year it was everything but the carseat, which was fortuitous), and delivered after midnight. Gillian was sure she was in heaven with all that attention, and there was no shortage of hugs and kisses for her!! We stayed at the Hotel Provencial, which is a lovely old collection of buildings in a wonderful part of the French Quarter. We usual stay with family, but the usual digs were all booked with other relatives in town for the holidays, so it was a treat to stay in the Quarter, steps away from Cafe DuMonde and the French Market, and everything else we wanted to do aside from visit family.

The first night we had an intimate dinner with Adee, the Thornhills (Suzi's sister's family), as well as her cousin and brother. Gillian is *in love* with Suzi's sister Alyce ("Leesie" as named by her grandson) who she met once on Skype and has been enamored of ever since (she has been talking about her for at least a month), and they played all night with a tub of plastic bugs.
Wednesday was a wonderful day. Nonni and Grandaddy walked Gillian to the Audubon Aquarium in the morning while Sean and I slept in until 9, lounged around and mosied over to Felix's for a fat filled and delicious lunch of Po Boys, etouffe, and Oysters Rockefellar. Gillian had a three hour nap, and then we decided to go out to Jackson Square to hear some music. We danced to the music of the guys that are always in the same place, every year, playing Dixieland Jazz for tips. They had a young little white kid tagging along this time, who by all accounts was pretty amazing on his trumpet and singing.


Gillian enjoyed the street musicians and artists, especially playing guitar with the Gilly-sized puppets:


That night, we had dinner at a place with a giant blow up Santa and Penguin that Gillian had to give a hundred hugs and kisses to before she would grudgingly leave (to the amusement of others in the restaurant), and then we took her home and put her to bed and Sean and I headed out to Preservation Hall for some excellent and very traditional Dixieland jazz. The Hall is all about the music-no frills, rickety benches in an "L" shape in a pretty small room, no beer, no food, no smoking.

Christmas Eve day dawned bright and warm, and heavenly. Gillian got to go to the playground for the first time in over a month, but not before she experienced her first beignets, which, like any sensible person, she loved:

That evening was the big Christmas Eve party at Adees where Gillian was one of the 16 great grandchildren under 8 years old present that night, and it was a wild and crazy evening (Santa came, even!). A huge pot of crawfish etouffe filled the entire house with the smell of Christmas at Adee's, and visiting with all the aunts and uncles and cousins was wonderful and overwhelming, as always. Christmas Day was low key, with a small group for lunch, and we got on an empty airplane and flew home. The day we left New Orleans it was sunny and 80 degrees, and we arrived home to 4 inches of ice in most places (a couple on our windshield in long term parking) and as much as 8 on the sides of the road and bitter cold. In spite of that, it was nice to be home. We all had a blast and so appreciated everything Nonni and Grandaddy did to make the trip hassle free!!

Words and Gillyisms

I am sometimes amazed by Gillian's word associations. For example, we don't use the word "trip", but the other day I asked her if she wanted to take a trip with me to the store. She immediately said "Yes, Mama and G can take a trip on a rocketship". Sean recognized that this was an allusion to the Little Einsteins shows which Gillian saw exactly twice about three weeks ago. The first bit of the theme song goes like this:
"We're going on a trip in our favorite rocket ship,
Zooming through the sky... Little Einsteins
Climb aboard, get ready to explore
There's so much to find, Little Einsteins" (she burst into the song moments later)

Yesterday she wanted to go to the children's museum again, and I said we would go another day. Then she started singing a song with the word "another"-"Rain rain go away, come again another day"....

She has also started telling tall tales. When she went to the aquarium with Nonni and Grandaddy, she got some wild ideas about the "big shark" she saw and was all excited when she came back to the hotel, talking about the "Biiiiiiig shark that came and bit Gilly on the bum and made a BIG BooBoo right HERE (with pointing)." Tonight she bumped a chair and pretend cried and told me she "boinged her face" and "broke her cheek" and "need[ed] a new one", and that "Papa will buy it". Listening to her prattle is endlessly fascinating, and she talks a LOT, about every single thing she has seen or heard as long as her memory goes back.

Life flashed before my eyes or the Story of How I Almost Lost My Daughter and My Mind in 60 Seconds Flat

Today Sean and I decided on a mutually beneficial use of our afternoon where he would go to Will's shop downtown to use some tools he needed for his violin while I took Gillian to the Children's Museum to entertain her during an afternoon of awful weather. It is a great place to take her a) because it is free for me to take her there and b) getting dropped off makes it completely free. Plan began beautifully. Gillian and I had a blast. She loved playing with all the things and *gasp* they even had a room full of babies this time called "taking care" in the ever-changing "hands on" room. Gillian got to wash a baby in a bath tub and dry her (by the time she was done it was the cleanest baby that ever lived) and then put on a diaper and PJs and wrapped her in a towel, put her ina stroller for a walk, then gave her a bottle, rocked her in a rocking chair, and put her to bed. Hmmm...sounds vaguely familiar. We did all the exhibits. We climbed rope ladders, went down slides, played with butterflies, made choo choo trains out of builders supplies, and played with all the cool science stuff. Sean called around 4:30ish and asked if we could manage another hour and I told him we could, and I would take G to eat at around 5 and see him around 5:30 or 5:45 (he would be calling). So, per The Plan, Gillian and I headed to the food court at a little after 5.

The food court reminded me of an Indian Street Market-crowded, loud, and insane. I was really regretting not having the stroller as I went to one place to get my salad and another place to get Gillian's sandwich and she was running away for fun and spinning around in the throngs (probably one of the most stressful things I have done as a parent-getting food for us in a public place with no control over where she was). At that point I was wishing I had a few more arms and some dorsal eyes or maybe a leash for my ethereal dancing fairy daughter who was oblivious to the fact that she could be trampled or knocked down or kidnapped at any second. I couldn't hold her hand and our heaped tray of food at the same time.

I headed into the mess of tables and people and all their stuff and there wasn't a table to be seen anywhere, and the random ones I spotted had no chairs. I started to feel a little claustrophobic with all the people and strollers and winter coats laying across everything, but managed to find two chairs after asking every person in a 50 foot radius if they were using all of theirs. I got Gillian situated and we both ate peacefully for 10 minutes, and then she got bored with all the sitting business, and got down to resume her running back and forth to test her tether to me (and to test me in general) and maybe to see how many times I could say "Gillian, come here please. Stay near our table". NOTE TO SELF: NEVER EAT ALONE WITH YOUNG CHILD IN BUSY FOOD COURT EVER AGAIN. Not restful. Not relaxing. Stress. Finally I was finished and she ate the intermittent bite of ham and cheese until I was satisfied that she ate enough, and I got up to put the stuff from the tray in the trash can located 5 feet from our table. Then I turned around, and she was gone. Poof.

So in that moment that felt like thousands of moments all suspended in eternal spaces, I saw my life. The devastated mother whose daughter was kidnapped in a busy public place in a matter of 3 seconds when she turned her back, I saw them finding her dead from some sick monster of a criminal-my precious angel, my innocent sweet baby. My adrenaline kicked in, and my heart was pounding so hard I was having strobe light vision. I called for her. I looked around like I was crazy. I started looking at everyone with wild eyes yelling, "Have you seen my daughter??!?? Have you seen her???" She was nowhere. Nowhere. She just disappeared. I was sure she couldn't have run so far by herself. I ran back and forth like the criminally insane desperately looking for her in every chair, and in every face. After an agonizing amount of time (probably 45 seconds that felt like 5 minutes) and sympathetic looks for the lunatic (who was imagining she lost her daughter) from the masses, I, with canine ears, heard a little voice 50 feet away, and there she was at the table of another family across the food court. I ran and grabbed her, all teary and shaking and hugging her like she might evaporate, telling her to never never never do that again. I felt like God gave me another chance to safeguard my most precious thing, and I was grateful. I learned in that moment how your life can change literally in seconds. Someone could have grabbed her and taken off and she would have been gone, like a ghost.

So, out of sheer guilt for my terrible mothering, almost losing her, then scaring her with all my fear and love, we went to the Build a Bear Workshop. Gillian picked out a grey kitty cat to stuff, pushed the pedal to stuff it all by herself, chose a little and very special red heart from the bin of hearts, rubbed it between her little hands and gave it a kiss (because we want to always warm the heart of the things we love), and she put it inside the kitty before they laced him up. His name is Sam. And more than ever, I realized how fiercely I love her, and what her little life is worth to me, and how it could never be the same without her.

News

We have NEWS. There's good reason for my slack posting of late. It's because I have been racked with the exhaustion of early pregnancy...it feels weird to write that- I'm PREGNANT again. God willing, I'll stay that way until this baby is term. Early pregnancy with Gillian was a blur of sleep, naps, barely making it through my work day, and vague nausea. This time the sleepies are a hundred times worse because there is a toddler to attend to, and the nap options are few and far between. Luckily, we are just about out of the first trimester, and that is passing, along with the feeling of constantly being hung over. There is something surreal about going to bed by 8:30 every night and never feeling rested and being on a almost strictly-carb diet because only carbs have been kind to my stomach. The first trimester this time has been so much harder than with Gillian because I can't take care of myself first.

So, I was trying to post a little video of Baby B-we have yet to select a nickname-but my DVD reader is not cooperating. Photos of our two inch long wonder will have to do. We saw *him* at our ultrasound for the sequential screen last Friday (*Sean thinks this is a he, and through complicated logic, made the argument that he is a better guesser than I am, which wouldn't be all that impressive a claim (I was convinced Gillian was a boy so much that for 20 weeks I called her "he"). He was a little wiggly, but not the spastic little jumping bean Gillian was. For the record, I wouldn't mind if this child is mellow.

We have mentioned this to Gillian a few times, but it is beyond intangible. Her thoughts are kindof like this:

"Mama wants a brother
Gilly wants a sister
Papa wants a boy"

or "Gilly wants a sister-Mama go get one!"

or "There's a baby in Mama's tummy-So Yummy, So Yummy!"

I wish I could say I have been as consumed by this experience as I was the first time-when I ready every fetal development book that exists in my giddiness. But, I'm too tired. I'm just trying to function on a basic level. One thing that hasn't changed is my worrying that something could go wrong, but luckily I don't have the time to obssess over that worry like I did before.

Speaking of time and sleepiness.... Here are pics of our Little One at 11 weeks 2 days (1.75 inches long, with fully visible little hands and feet, nose, mouth, and eyes):

Exactly.

First thing this morning on the changing table:

"Mama's hair is brown,
Gilly's hair is blonde,
Cup's hair is PINK."

And so it is....

Crumbs

As Gillian fills my bedroom with the aroma of Vicks and the sound of Darth Vader with a chest cold (and insomnia for me), I am reflecting on a happier scene a few days ago.

I use to think Barney was the spawn of Satan. But, as nauseating sticky sweet as it is (what with all those Elysian cheeky-smiling, well mannered, polite, and respectful children), there is something to be said for teaching my daughter this:


There are worse things than a saccharine display of adoration by your devoted (at least in that particular moment) toddler.

Other universes

Today Gillian informed me that she made a Tweety-bird sandwich, alternately saying "tweet tweet" and "bok-bok, Mama"! Then she acted like a big monster and gobbled him up. Most gleefully his head, leaving a tiny bit left which she called "baby bird". She popped baby bird in her mouth and said YUM YUM! Then she told me she had a "fat belly" and that her tummy was full.

There are more than a few things I wish people had told me before I had a child. Whether or not I would have actually listened is another story. But I wish I realized how imagining things totally does it...so much that we didn't need to buy 70% of the things we own. Case in point-Gillian adores her pet rocks. If we happen by a particular yard, which happens to have a lovely assortment of rocks for ground cover, Gillian can pick ONE rock to bring home (this decision is not made lightly-it requires time and study and false starts). These gets faces and names immediately. They have a good life here. She made them an umbrella one fine day a few months ago (when she was neck deep in her umbrella phase), then decided the umbrella and "Bob" the Rock needed a table and chairs. Then they (Bob and his friends Rocky, Betty, Elliot, and Bug) needed a pool and kick boards like they have at the city pool we were frequenting at the time. The latest is that at their parties, they need cups and plates. My favorite of things is when I am holding one of the rocks and she gets right up in its face and says something like, "Do you want to go swimming in the pool, Bob??" like she's making an offer that is impossible to refuse. At bedtime, she tucks them in (her three favorites and toy ladybug) a cradle next to her bed and covers them tenderly with a washcloth blanket.

And who needs Matchbox City when you have posterboard and a marker to draw streets, houses, schools, and grocery stores with?? Gillian would have a MUCH harder time walking through town like a "big RA RA!" if the town was anything but flat.

I love these universes where everything is sentient. Everything can speak. Everything can dream. I want to live here full time. Life would be so Chocolate Factory-like. The second best thing, though, is having an imaginative child to lead you back to Neverland.

Fall again

It's the time of year when the trees lose their hair, and the ground gets covered in my favorite canyon tones-tree petals of gold and red and brown. The fall always feels so familiar somehow, so beautifully melancholy. A transition time between lush and barren. I always remember thinking on the big changes occuring this time of year...that my life mirrored the transition I observed everywhere around me. Gillian finally came home to us in the Fall. Auspicious things are happening this Fall for us, and seem to indicate that the next year will be ours to make of it what we will-even more so than usual.

Maybe it's the crisp clean air that makes me feel eternally optimistic right now. Maybe it's seeing that same sentiment emanating from others.... like the sweetness of the very young couple at the park the other day-I could feel their new love radiating out of their shy flirtation and lingering touches, and not so vague innuendos. I basked in it. It was lovely. And the Tibetan man and his son bridging two cultures and enjoying this playground in America, Chicago, so far from home... The son wore a Winnie the Poo sweatshirt on top of his traditional clothing and had the smilingest eyes I have yet to see in a child that young. Like he already knew the Great Secret. Maybe he does... At the playground that day, there were five languages being spoken and I had one of those moments when I was struck by how I love that Gillian will grow up surrounded by and appreciating so many different kinds of people. And I am grateful for that.

So the days march forward, and we are necessarily tumbling along with them. We are purging the excesses of summer now, preparing for the cleansing cold of the winter, and the rebirth of spring. The nights are growing longer and the days shorter for a while, until the last bit of life seems still. Once we remember where we come from, everything moves actively toward life again. This cycle is beautiful, really.

We are changing, and our girl is changing...fluid and transient. She is entering little girlhood. She likes getting her toenails painted and wearing daisy hairclips and cooking in her kitchen. As always in Fall, I wait with bated breath to see what and where the world will bring us. So far, no complaints because God is Good.

Savvy

Another little anecdote-this one is about dinner tonight. Gillian was being silly, and, being wise to the dozen cupcakes on the counter that had miraculously made it through 24 hours in the house, asked for one. I sized up how much of the food I had given her that actually made it to her stomach, and told her she needed to eat two more bites before she could have a cupcake. She then proceeded to negotiate. "One bite, Mama." Then took it a step further, picking up a single black bean from the plate. "One BEAN!" (Note: I told her that didn't count, and she did, in the end, eat Two BIG BITES with a spoon, and got her chocolate cupcake).