To the Mother Who Sent Only Cards to the Valentine’s Day Party

So, last night, as my child slumbered off an upset tummy, I picked up her backpack and began to unpack the bounty. In case you’ve forgotten, yesterday was Valentine’s Day and my girl had her first preschool Valentine’s Day party. Of course, she picked out and we bought the cute little My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic sticker-cards for her friends and I helped her sign her name to them, because the note from school had said that students would be giving Valentines to each other. However, as I sat and unpacked three large paper bags/envelopes, I felt my little hobbit-mommy heart sink a little.

There were gifts attached to almost every card.

One card came with a toy car and proclaimed “I “wheelie” like you”.

One card came with a twist-off-top Kool-aid bottle, with its card declaring, “Happy Valentine’s Day! Here’s a “squeeze” for you!”

And on and on it continued. Cute little gift bags, school supplies emblazoned with “You rule!”on them.

By the time I was done, I was wishing every Pinterest-y mother at the bottom of the deepest oceanic trench. All my girl had given were MLP sticker-cards. No gifts. No treats. Nothing cutely punny. Had I dropped the ball or what?

Quietly, I put everything back into the bags and stacked them on the couch so my daughter could open them with Grandma and Grandpa the next day, feeling all of my mere 61 inches tall. Thankfully, I suppose, the aforementioned upset tummy didn’t give me much time to wallow in self-pity. I did end up feeling badly for wishing doom and gloom on these parents who had obviously taken and put much time and thought into would make their children’s little friends smile, for which I am very grateful. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling of ‘less’. It lingered all through the rest of the night, aided by weariness and lack of rest thanks to her throwing-up-every-half-hour-to-keep-time.

It’s not just “less”. It’s a feeling of “not enough”. Not creative enough. Not involved enough. Not aware enough. Not available enough.

And it sucks. (Yeah, I’m self-pitying just a bit. It’s part of the journey.)

I know comparison is a spirit-killer and I don’t want that. I also know that my girl had fun, which is splendid. Maybe her body waited until she got home to be sick because, deep down, she knew that Mommy would take care of her. Make everything as better as she could. I don’t know. I don’t know for sure, but I hope that my love, the fact that I would do whatever I can and need to for her is known down in her blood and bone, as true as her heart that beats.

I’m not a Pinterest mom. I’m not an artist or a party designer. I don’t know the perfect gift for the perfect occasion. But I do know that I love my daughter. I do know that I want to teach her the joy of loving on others. And I hope that, maybe, yesterday was a good starting lesson in that. I hope her sticker-cards made some child smile when she handed them one.

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Running On Ahead

Today was the day. That day. That first day. Today was my girl’s first day at daycare. And tomorrow will her first day of preschool. Her first day(s) in the care of someone not a parent or grandparent.

Only a week and a half ago, I accepted a very last-minute position and, in a positive gale of change, have returned to teaching this year. This was not what I had planned for, not what I had settled on, and so it has been quite a tumultuous time. One of the most difficult parts for me, however, has been the realization and reality that I would not be able to be there for her first day of school. I will not be there to hold her little hand and walk her to her class. I will not be there to see her face light up with excitement or grow sober with apprehension. I will not be there to hug her close, stroke my finger down her pert little nose, tell her I love her, and remind her to have courage and be kind.

And that hurt. It hurt a lot. For an entire week, I cried every time I thought about it, every time someone mentioned it. I still get a little burn in my chest where my heart aches at the missing. I have always been with her; these are the first “firsts” that I will miss. It’s too soon. It’s happening too fast. I know that she’s excited, that she loved her first day at daycare, and had a great one according to her teachers, and that makes me happy for my girl. But, at the same time, it’s like she’s slipping away through my fingers. She’s pulling away and running ahead and I am so far from ready.

I miss our routine. I miss mornings with her cuddled in my arms in the big bed when it’s rainy and dark and we are both still sleepy. I miss walking in the sunshine with her or helping my fearless, spiky girl place her feet properly as she climbs up the playground ladders. I miss watching her jog through the mall, waving at strangers with a smile and a “Hi!” I miss our quiet times at home, her with her Kindle and me with my book or my writing.

It’s all happening so fast. Too fast. I knew that this was coming. Eventually. But I hadn’t looked for it to be now, to be immediate. I had thought I’d be there to  help her transition to part-time preschool. Instead, I tiptoe from the house before she’s awake and won’t see her now until I pick her up at the end of the day. I can only hope and pray to be greeted by a big smile and lovingly enthusiastic “Mommy!” every evening. That’s why I am doing this. For her. For our family. Not for me. For them.

Tonight, as she splashed and played in her bath, all my heart could do was cry out, “Slow down!” And the song below came to mind, as tears likewise sprang to my eyes and trickled down my cheeks.

I want you to grow, my love. I do. Just…don’t do it too terribly quickly. Please? Don’t pull away just yet. Could you slow down, just a bit?

It Happens When You’re Not Looking

Today was an interesting one. Today, my daughter requested that we go look for a purple Sofia the First dress for her dress-up collection. I knew that I had gift cards I could spend so I said yes. This prompted several conversations and occurrences that proved to me that, yes, she is indeed growing and developing emotionally, even though I was beginning to doubt this idea.

The first conversation happened before we left the house:

B: Mommy, what are you doing here?

Me: I’m going to wash dishes. Then we can get ready and go find a purple l dress. But I have to finish my chores first, okay?

B: Okay. I be in in my bedroom. *runs off to play Super Why games on her Kindle*

That is Exhibit A. Exhibit B came about in the store. We found a lovely Sofia dress-up gown but, oh, there were shoes to go with it! My girl is a great lover of shoes, for those who don’t know, and so she insisted that she wanted both the dress and the shoes. I calmly explained to her that she had to pick one or the other because I did not have enough money on my gift card to buy both. This was, as you probably expected, heartbreaking for the little miss. She started to break down but then, just as suddenly, she said:

“I need to sit down.”

I told her that she could sit down right where she was and she took a seat on an open, low shelf. Then she started breathing deeply, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Then I realized what was happening. My three-year-old baby was calming herself down! She took at least four deep breaths, me breathing along with her for a few of them. Then, after a moment, we revisited the issue and she decided that she wanted the dress more than the shoes. She was still disappointed about the shoes, yes, but she made her choice. As we got to the checkout, she seemed to remember how upset she was about not getting the shoes. Again, she told me, “I need to sit down,” so I gave her permission to sit on another low shelf right near me and I waited until she was ready before we paid for the dress.

It happens when you aren’t looking, these moments of growth. These moments are proof that what you are doing is helping, is working, and does matter for the good for your little one(s). So, keep on doing what you are doing, mamas and dads. Keep teaching and counseling and modeling for your little ones. They are are learning, they are developing the good habits and strategies that you are endeavoring to teach them. It’s hard, I know. It’s frustrating and tiring and maddening. But it’s working. It is! It just sometimes happens when you aren’t looking.

Bedtime Evensong

I just sang my daughter to sleep (and she actually FELL ASLEEP) for the first time in I don’t know when. It took less than ten minutes for her to drop off, maybe even less than five. I’ve missed that. Usually, if I stay in her room, she will fight sleep to interact so I have to leave her room in order for her to settle down and fall asleep. I don’t know why tonight was different but I am glad that I kept my heart soft and was mindful and went to her when she cried instead of just assuming that it was because she didn’t want to go to bed.

As I sat on the side of her bed, she settled, curled up on her side with her little blankies and snuggled under her “giant blankie”. As I hummed her lullaby, she hummed the first verse along with me, fidgeted around with her blankies for a few minutes, and then eventually quieted, her breathing calming and evening out. When I finally stopped humming and raised my hand from where I had rested it on her waist while I sang, she didn’t stir. I kissed her head, whispered that I love her, and lingered by her bedside for a moment, just watching her.

My girl is growing so very quickly. She’s strong and smart and imaginative and fierce and spiky and strong-willed. She loves to pretend and play dress-up. Her current favorite movie is “Inside Out”, which she calls “Calm Down” and she dreams of being Joy “with the beautiful blue princess hair”. I tell her that one day we will dress up together – her as Joy and me as Disgust. (I mean cosplay, of course.) She is starting to express a desire of wanting to go to school so I am trying to use that as motivation to take that last step towards potty-training. She knows the process and all that stuff; it’s just convincing her to be in regular underwear all of the time and doing the work of going to the bathroom regularly.

But, for tonight, she was just my baby girl who fell asleep to the sound of my voice.

 

((Art: Lonely Lullaby – http://www.deviantart.com/art/Lonely-Lullaby-216206458 ))

When Did I Become…?

As I was making the beds this morning and turning down the heat in the bedrooms for the day, I realized something.

I have been a stay-at-home mom for three years. I guess that the official date was about two weeks ago when school started back but yes. Three years. That was when I started my FML from my teaching position, deciding that I wanted to stay home and officially resigning later on that summer.

As I made the beds, folded blankets, and picked up clothes for the laundry, I came to realize that I have settled into a routine of being a SAHM, of caring for our daughter, my husband, our home, and myself (the last is still in process). I am learning to better ask for help and time when I need it (in fact, the grandparents are coming over to spend time with my girl while I run errands out in the snow today). I have settled into the joys of organization, my brand-new family calendar in its place of pride on the side of the fridge (Thank you, Mom! The old one was quite on its last legs.) with everyone’s activities for the month listed out as well as copied onto our family Google calendar, so we can keep track of each other. The bank’s new app is uploaded onto my phone (still need to do this to hubbie’s phone), so we can have access to accounts/amounts whenever we need it. My girl’s first dance class will start in two weeks so she needs to be outfitted for that, naturally.

I think I’ve really settled into this SAHM gig.

Having said that, though, it may end sooner than I anticipate. Elizabeth is three. Preschool looms on the horizon (as soon as we can deal with this potty training nonsense), which means that I will need to/be looking for a new position somewhere. Now that is a frightening thought if I am being completely honest. There are lots of frightening thoughts for me in being a SAHM.

• Am I doing right by my daughter?
• Am I spending enough time with her?
• Am I teaching her the skills (educational and life) that she needs?
• Am I teaching her to be independent?
• Am I unconsciously doing for her what she needs to do for herself?
• Am I teaching her that I am there for her?
• Does she feel loved?
• Does she feel heard?
• Am I giving enough time to my husband?
• Are he and I connecting enough?
• Does he feel heard by me?
• Does he feel loved and appreciated?
• Am I giving enough time to myself?
• Do I feel loved, heard, appreciated?
• Am I connecting with my own heart, soul, and body enough?
• Am I connecting to God’s heart enough?

The worries will abound, if I let them. The worries could drown me, if I let them. The worries could leave me paralyzed with fear, if I let them.

So I won’t.

I will take comfort in the truth that I know what I am doing, even when I don’t. That I am trying my best, even when I fall short. That I am doing much better than I think I am at this SAHM gig.

Potty Training Woes with A 4-Year-Old | Scary Mommy

I feel like such a failure. Over the past three years, I’ve tried everything. I’ve used every bribe I can think of. I’ve punished him. I’ve created reward-based potty charts. I’ve set the timer on my iPhone a thousand times. We have left public places when the telltale wet ring appears on his pants. I have let him continue to play, even with wet pants, wondering if other kids ask him about it whether or not he might finally be embarrassed. He hasn’t.

via Potty Training Woes With A 4-Year-Old Scary Mommy.

I feel for her, so much, as I am having the hardest time potty training my girl right now, and I’m very appreciative of her honesty and chin-up-ness.

Warm-hearted Wednesday: Tidying Up

My little girl just cleaned up everything that she dumped off the ottoman and onto the floor. The exchange went something like this:

Bizzy: What a big mess!

Me: Yeah, you did make a big mess. Can you help clean it up?

Bizzy: Yeah. I clean up the mess.

She then proceeded to pick up all the stray articles of clothing, blankets, and pillows that she had dumped onto the floor and stack them back on the ottoman, going so far as to take my robe, which I had taken off and put on the couch next to me and put it up there, too. Watching her struggle with the heavy pile of fabric was rather amusing but I let her do it all by herself as she had insisted. She cleaned up everything and she earned her soccer ball back. ^_^ Well done, Bizzy!

Birthday Thoughts

Today, my daughter turns three, I am running on 5 hours of mostly-full-though-still-broken sleep, and her gifts were JUST wrapped a few minutes ago by her Mamaw while I kept her distracted in the living room.

It’s been a nice build up to Bizzy’s birthday. This week, as we have been out and about, she has been spreading sunshine around to others: waving, smiling, saying “Hi, everyone!”, and wishing people “Merry Christmas!” It’s done my heart good as I have tried to concentrate on the moments that make this season wonderful and not let myself be trapped by the expectation, comparisons, and stuff that made me regret it all at the end of last year. Fewer presents and more meaning. Less doing and more being. Fewer obligations and more space for magical moments and divine appointments.

Today, there will be no huge birthday party, no me running around to pick up party platters, birthday cake, and decorate a party space, no leaving my mom to mind and dress and prepare Elizabeth for said party while I go hither, thither, and yon. No running around desperately trying to be a good hostess as well as an attentive Mommy. No cleaning up afterward, trying to figure out where all the leftovers and cake are going to fit in the fridge, especially with Christmas Day foodings in 6 days. Nope!

All of that that is #offthebeam this year (thank you, Jen Hatmaker). As fun as it might have been for Bizzy last year, it was so much stress for me that I was a wreck by the end of the day and I didn’t get to enjoy my daughter’s birthday really at all. This year, we are going back to basic and easy: a relaxed day (that hopefully involves a nap or two for me), a family dinner out at a Chinese buffet that she really likes, presents, and a small cupcake (with a Christmas tree in frosting) for my girl to indulge in.

My little girl is three years old. I am running on five hours’ sleep, and I am so very pleased and proud to be the mother of this wonderful, fabulous, maddening, fierce, spiky, friendly, smart, lovely little person.

When You Feel So Mad That You Wanna Roar…

This is our first year with a full-sized tree since Elizabeth was born and it has been impossible to keep her from pulling ornaments off the tree. Tonight she succeeded in that top-shelf fear of mine: she pulled the Christmas tree down. Thankfully, it did not land on top of her. I heard it fall, heard the clatter of ornaments on the floor, and hurried to the doorway between the kitchen and living room to see her across the room leaning against the couch and the tree facedown on the floor. I admit, I covered my hand with my mouth and struggled not to cry as I saw my tree sprawled on the floor, ornaments tumbled hither thither and yon around the living room.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t yell. I inhaled, counted to three, and exhaled as I entered the living room, asking firstly if she was OK and she said yes. I then set about righting the tree while she gathered the fallen ornaments into a little pile. I silently thanked God that I had had the means to buy a brand new set of shatterproof ornaments along with this tree. I was not also going to be vacuuming glass up out of the carpet for the next hour and then fretting for days to come that there would still be shards hidden, just waiting to embed themselves in our feet. So there was that in my favor. I slowly and as calmly as I could straightened out the bent branches and replaced the ornaments on the tree, though there was a small struggle with Bizzy over the last one, which she adamantly didn’t want to relinquish. I still think the tree looks a bit at sixes and sevens and I will most likely have my mother give it a once over and fix when she gets here.

But I am glad that I took that three-second pause. I wanted love to be my first response as often as possible and it most definitely was not my first response for most of today. Today was a rough day. We have all been sick for the better part of a week, Elizabeth since Thanksgiving night. So we are tired and worn and she and I got in each other’s way a lot today. Tomorrow, though, I will forgive myself and have the new beginning that tomorrow is.

In My Weakness…

My daughter is sick, and I am rather in pieces. I am fairly certain this is a sinus infection — the congestion, the sneezing, coughing, feverishness, complaining of her ears hurting. Sinus infections and I are old frienemies, and I’m pissed as all hell that my toddler daughter is having to deal with this. She is croaky and sneezy and bleary-eyed, poor girl, and I am doing everything I know to do, with little relief seeming to be the result. So it’s rather heartbreaking, truthfully. All I can do is keep caring for her as best I can and pray that she starts to feel better soon.