From the mouths of...

Louisa knocks over Stella's play stroller with her stuffed animals in it, and Stella utters:

"Oh Bunny, I know. That was traumatic for you."

Steve and I almost lose it. "Um, Stella, do you know what the word 'traumatic' means?"

"No."

"Well, you used it properly. Do you want me to tell you what it means?"

"No."


***********

Before going to bed a few nights ago:

"Mommy, can I ask you a question?"

Sure.

"Mommy, why does the sorcerer turn the white swan into a black swan?"

What?

"the white swan? Why does he do that?"

Oh, you mean in Swan Lake? (which we watched like 3 weeks before and hadn't talked about it since.) Well, he's a mean sorcerer, and really the black swan is his daughter pretending to look like the white swan.

"Why?"

Um, because that's the story. The sorcerer wants the white swan to live in his lake forever because he likes her.

"But the prince likes her! That's not fair."

No Stella, it isn't.

"Good night Mommy."

When life gives you sand...

you make sand angels. Of course.

Mommy, I'm a Dancer!

We've heard that phrase before. About a year ago, in fact. or something like that... I know I made note of it on the blog before. The time is just smushing together lately. You look around, and all of a sudden, your baby is walking consistently around the house, when you try to put her down on her bottom, she prefers her feet, and you realize, crap, she'll be one in two weeks, and if she's walking that means she's a toddler and not a baby anymore, and how did THAT happen?

But back to dance. Because we are a bit obsessed with it at our house right now. We searched around the area for dance lessons back in early February and then the DOOM SICKNESS enveloped our house and after a month of trying to get out from under the DOOM SICKNESS we are finally headed to ballet class today after school.

It's pretty momentous for Stella. We picked up two new leotards last week at Target (thank you Stella for liking what was on the clearance rack) - you know - one leotard for class and the other to wear around the house EVERY MINUTE that she is awake. Observe:

I have no clue what these poses are, but she's pretty serious about it. So here's to something that might teach her discipline and might, just might, rub off at home.

Tally

I had written a few blog posts in my head over the last few weeks. You know, pithy ones with funny comments by Stella; adorable picture ones of Louisa because she just turned 11 months (!!!) and is now up to 10 steps unassisted, can wave and clap, and kiss my chin (not Steve's because he has too many whiskers); or pictures of our recent trip to the Valley of Fire.

But no. I have to complain.

In the last 2 weeks, here is what we have REALLY been doing.

Pink Eye = both kids.

Horrible wracking cold, complete with mucus galore, no voice, lung-squeezing coughs = both parents.

Ear infection = Louisa. (but that really should say ear infectionS because it never went away and we're on to part two = extended ear infection)

And the piece de resistance?

VOMIT! Entire contents of one's stomach = Stella. Just tonight. Entire bedsheet change. Entire PJ change.

Awesome. I've been to the doctors 3 times for Louisa in the last 2 weeks. One for an undiagnosed pink eye (allergies, she said), one for the real pink eye and ear infection, and one for the follow up ear infection. (Does going to the dentist for a routine appointment count? 'Cause we got two in the last 2 weeks as well.)

I've also been to the doctors 3 times in the last 2 weeks for myself. One for urgent care to tell me, no, 9 days of this cold is totally normal, there is nothing we can do for you, and you probably have 9 days left. And to the worst OB/Gyn in the country who won't give me birth control until I take a blood test pregnancy test and come back to the office then to get said birth control even though I'm a responsible adult and know if I'm pregnant or not. (Not.)

Please please please, blogger, readers, followers, please say a prayer to the higher power (just a small one, reserve the important ones for important things) - nay- not even a prayer - maybe just an aside, an afterthought, that the vomit was just a random vomit and not the FLU or ANYTHING ELSE THAT REQUIRES A DOCTOR VISIT.

Is that trite of me? I hope not.

Sneaky

An insight into the personality of our 10 month old:

Yesterday at preschool, while the two caregivers were either changing diapers and/or feeding other little ones, Louisa and her pals Dillon and Ellie crawled over to the laundry basket where they put dirty bibs, cloths, etc. They then looked over to see what was going on and found this:

Louisa ended up inside (!!) and started tossing out dirty laundry as Ellie clapped her hands while Dillon chewed on a dirty bib. Louisa just kept squawking and throwing out more laundry as the ladies laughed until they cried. We're not exactly sure how she ended up IN the laundry basket, save for the fact that she probably fell in and decided, well, let's see how one can fun this way.

Yep. That's our girl.

Maternal

Dear Stella,

I feel like I have to put this into words, maybe before this beautiful part of your life goes away and you move on to other things. Not that I want you to give it up. In fact, I hope that it is a wonderful window into what may come. However, the problem is, I'm not sure exactly HOW to put it into words. Maybe this picture might be a start?

This is you at 3 and a half. You're wearing your bunny, in a homemade sling that I made for you out of leftover fabric from your blanket for school. You have a "purse" with some change in it, and slung over the other shoulder, a "diaper bag" with an extra diaper and a shirt. You know, for Bunny. You told me that you were headed to Grammy's house on the airplane with your baby and you'd be back in a week. 

It's not the story that I'm most interested in, although it does make a good one, but the care at which you prepared your bunny for the trip. The desire to swaddle her in a sling and hold her close. Your maternal show of affection for all of your stuffed animals makes me smile with such deep joy, I cannot tell you. the other night, you were late coming down for dinner. Why? You were singing a lullaby (your version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow) and putting Bunny to sleep. You sang her the song, wrapped her lovingly in a blanket, and put her in the baby bed. You even tip-toed out of your bedroom and told us that we had better turn off the music downstairs so we didn't wake Bunny. Last night, you chose to sit on the couch after dinner and "breastfeed" Bunny. You even yelled at Scupper that he was distracting her and he needed to stop playing ball. You burped her, swaddled her back in a blanket, and put her in your small stroller, ready for a "nighttime walk" around the house. 

I'm sure I could look at this all another way - that all you think I do is feed Louisa, wrap her in copious amounts of blankets, and put her down for naps. But since you've been doing this before Louisa was born, I can only assume this is just you. Wonderful you. The joy spread across your face as you tend to your animals... the beauty of your songs... the sweetness of your voice. 

Many years down the road, if you decide that children are something you'd like to consider, I hope I remember each of these moments, to tell you of the love for which you've shown your pretend babies and how you'll be the sweetest, most tender mother to your child. Your soul glows with love, my dear. With love.

That was *so* five weeks ago

We had a good break. It was three weeks off from preschool, from lesson plans, from stress about work (or the lack there of), and frankly, we didn’t think about doing much else. We took lots of naps. We baked… oh we baked. My excuse was that we were trying to warm up the downstairs that is perpetually cold but probably it was because what else was there to do but try out the new cookbooks? make lots of things with chocolate? make lots of things with my sourdough starter? just make lots of things? It’s good I started running before the holiday. It’s not like I’m thinner, but at least it kept things at bay… or I’d like to tell myself that.

So we make the requisite sugar cookies with way too many sprinkles:

And we had a merry Christmas, compliments of the grandparents and aunties.

(I didn’t ask her to pose this way, I really didn’t). I caved and bought her a “Cinderella” dress, but felt better about the whole princess thing because I found it at the thrift store after Halloween for $3. And it lights up. Bonus.

We had an awesome time in the aforementioned Winter wonderland with the copious amounts of snow, snuggly blankets, and naps.

We are completely smitten with this one… and I thoroughly enjoyed my time home with her. She is at the joy stage – where everything is exciting, where she wants to be in the thick of it, and where just a smile can make getting up 3 times a night may sometimes be worth it (oh yes, we back-slid. no more sleeping through the night).

And this one, who all of a sudden has been drawing very specific shapes with surprising acumen. I mean, for an almost 4 year old.

But now it’s back to school (yes, somehow Stella and seemed to match in our wacky patterns on our first day back).

Back to lesson plans, back to feeling like I can’t get ahead of things, back to feeling like we don’t have enough time in the day to get everything. In fact, Bacchae lesson plans should be finished by now for class tomorrow at 4pm. But that’s ok. They’ll get done. All in good time. We’re all trying to be patient with ourselves this year. I’m not suggesting that I have resolutions, because then that might be one more thing to make me feel guilty I’m not accomplishing… but being patient. Being kind. Not only to others, because for the most part, that comes easily, but being kind to ourselves. That’s a resolution I feel that I’d like to try to stick to.

Unlike this avocado, which apparently, also has a resolution of being stuck.