Green...

I have thought a lot about sharing my thoughts about this - but figured hey, I guess those of you that still read the blog may understand that it's typical Aimee - honest and as usual, maybe a bit too blunt. But it has been something I've been pondering over the last few months.

You see, I'm think I'm jealous of people who don't have kids. Not jealous all the time, mind you, but a wee bit jealous. I think these feelings have started after observing our neighbors. We live on a large property where we have the house in the front, and our neighbors live in the converted stable house in back. Mind you, because the land parcels are big out here in "rural" Santa Barbara, I think their house is farther away than any of our neighbors back in San Diego, including the ones who lived across the street. For the first few months here, we kept apologizing about Scupper barking at them each time they went to their car in our shared driveway or said hi when we were swinging Stella on the swings. I think we were both trying to respect each other's privacy. However, after Christmas, I finally decided that we needed to have them over for dinner, or hell, at least lunch, and have tried to make more of an effort to be neighborly. They are our age, and until recently, the woman worked from home. So we gingerly struck up a relationship, and now we've started running together 2-3 mornings a week, and share recipes, leftovers, and gardening tips. Her husband is a lot like Steve, in the fact that he's a bit quiet around other people, and does his own thing. But my growing relationship with D. has been nice - like me, she's the more outgoing of the couple, and is into thrift stores, finding good deals, shopping the bargain bread rack at the grocery store, etc.

However, I have found myself, as of late, watching her come and go, and the freedom associated with that, with a bit of jealously. She comes home from work and gardens in the yard until the sun sets. Her and her husband hop in the car some nights at 9pm, presumably to meet friends, catch a late bite to eat, even play racquetball, she told me. Maybe it's because we don't indulge in babysitting often or the fact that we have no family here to which we could share Stella with for a few hours to run out by ourselves, but I  miss the freedom that comes with not having children or pets.

And yet, as I snuggled my daughter against my chest last night, breathing the lovely scent of fresh washed hair, listing to her gentle breathing, I couldn't imagine how my life would be without her. I had such joy watching her play in rain on Sunday... watching her send air kisses to the neighborhood horses on our walk yesterday, marveling at the utter happiness on her face to see the nearby farm's pig and goat... taking pride at the fact that she ate almost all her quinoa and broccoli stir fry last night with a fork (and tried a bit with chopsticks!) Experiencing the world anew through her nascent eyes has brought such happiness to me that I'm not sure why at times, I stare wistfully out the window wondering what it might be like if we had never decided to have kids.

As with everything, I'm sure that this is "just a phase..." That the exhaustion of parenthood ebbs and flows. That the need for "Mama" almost 24/7 will disappear and I will feel a loss. I think these honest feelings about motherhood could be why I don't seem to meet people on the playgrounds... where I see a mother with 3 kids under 5 and say, wow, how do you do it? she smiles sweetly back, why, it's a joy, or it's not hard... I wonder if she's really telling the truth, or if she's figured something out that I don't know.

On happier note, Stella is talking up a storm - and sometimes we understand her and sometimes we don't, but the words are coming much better than a month ago. Open is still "be-pen," moon is still "loon," and home is still "moam" for reasons we aren't sure, but damn if she can't say "cream cheese." At least her priorities are in the right place. ;)

Brown can do it...

Or something like that. I can't remember what the UPS slogan is because we don't own a TV, and they don't air ads during Hulu watchings of Glee. That's not the story though... this is about our dog.

Scupper, for those of you unacquainted -- although I guess that's stupid because most of you HAVE met Scupper at one point or another -- is a barker. We have no idea what part of him is that (maybe terrier?) but he's a barker. At everything. At us when we come home (bark bark! they are home! i love my family!), at anyone that comes to the door (bark bark! who are you? what are you doing on my porch?), to anyone walking by the house (bark bark! who are you? what are you doing on my street where i can see you?), to weird people on the beach (bark bark! you have a cane! i'm confused!), to his own butt (bark bark! i have a piece of grass stuck in my butt!) Needless to say, this is gets old. It's been old. In fact, it's so old, it's ancient. But we put up with it because he's a loving dog. It just annoys the heck out of us.

In his normal barking habits, he's taken to barking at the mail lady if he's out lounging in the yard and of course, the UPS man. We get diapers delivered from Amazon (b/c there is no Target in SB, kids) and the UPS faithfully brings them every 8 weeks when Stella is just about out. He learned very quickly we have a dog who is usually lounging outside in the mornings and he gives Scupper the largest Milkbones I have ever seen, drops off the box, and heads back out to the truck before Scup can bark too much or jump on him with dog licks. Lately, Scupper has been barking when he drives by, so last week, I saw him stop, deliver a package to the next door neighbor, heave a Milkbone over the fence, and hop in his truck.

Today - he drove by, Scupper barked, he slowed down ever so slightly, threw a Milkbone out the UPS truck door, and kept on driving.

I have got to get his name and send him a thank you. Above and beyond the call of duty, eh?

Scupper is also addicted to playing soccer. But that's a story for another time. And best be sure, it involves barking. (bark bark! do you see that ball? yes, that ball? Ball! Kick it! now! To me! bark bark!)

On her own terms...

Stella has been "diagnosed" with an Expressive Language delay. We are into week 2 of speech therapy - and luckily, it is all being arranged and covered by a state agency located here in SB. It seems that she was above her age range in the other development tests - motor skills, cognition - and even "receptive language" - i.e. she understands just about everything. She just doesn't/can't put it into words. However, since her first evaluation, she's definitely been getting better. This past week, she finally began to say "Mama" with the intent of calling or naming me... whereas before it was merely a moniker without a home. I think it's pretty damn cool. (I'm sure this will wear off soon after the ump-teenth "Mama" when she's in need of something).  Yesterday, during her session, she refused to say "moo" or "cow" and instead began hiding under a blanket and playing peek-a-boo. I don't envy our therapist. She kept trying to elicit responses from Stella for various objects to no avail. Stella rolled around in my lap and ignored her. When the therapist assume Stella's attention was just gone for the day, Stella turned to my shirt - and pointed to the various colored origami shapes and started saying "Lellow." "Bue." "Pink." "Geen." The therapist looked at me astonished (and frankly, I was too because she was 1) talking understandably and 2) getting the colors right.) She then suggested that Stella will have to come to speech therapy on her "own terms" and we'll just have to keep inventing new ways of making it fun for her. Otherwise, she just decides that it's not worth it, and won't talk. Ah, our little independent girl.

She also thinks that hot pads make awesome slippers. Go figure.

Raindrops on roses...

As much as I may complain (maybe not on the blog, but at least to my poor mother) about how tough these toddler times are right now (really? can she really push my buttons that much??) Stella, when she's happy, is a joy. I need to learn a few lessons from the way she interacts with the world around her. Gusto. That's the best word to describe it. Gusto.

Some of her favorite things right now...

- reading. Sitting and reading books - and longer books too. Overnight it seemed we went from Miss Itchy pants if the book was longer than 5 minutes to long stories. Thank goodness for the local library because I was getting pretty sick of the pile that we have, even though my mother keeps us well stocked in the book department. (I am going to feel bad if and when my brother ever has kids because Stella sure has gotten quite a few of Mrs. Z's awesome kindergarten books).

- spinning. You know - spinning until you start to walk fun and might just fall down? Spinning is pretty fun this house right now.

- singing. Everything is a song  - I can't understand the words, but Stella sure likes singing. (see below post and the "ode to pizza dough" she does in the middle). My mother kept doing the hand motions to Wheels on the Bus and Monkeys on the bed while she was here, and now those are standbys. She rolls her arms around in a circle and it usually means I had better start singing Wheels on the Bus or there might be trouble. (Did you know that there was a verse, compliments of Steve, that starts with "the oil pump on the bus goes squirt, squirt, squirt.." Nope, I didn't either, but now it's part of our song).

- cooking and dishes. Stella has gotten pretty bossy in the kitchen, actually. She demanded to be taught how to crack eggs for a cake I made this weekend and she did pretty good, actually. In fact, whenver I go to even cut cheese, she grabs for the stool that she stands on to "help" and gets pissy if i don't let her up to see what's going on. After we cook, I can always get her to help me with the dishes, which usually involves her filling up clean cups, measuring spoons, and the like with the dishwater and either actually pouring it back in the sink, or down the front of her shirt. But hey, that's better than playing in the dog's water bowl, which is a close second to doing the dishes. Maybe she'll be a marine biologist? Or a deep sea diver...

- school. Literally, she's been there 3 times now and she's so excited about going. She squealed in utter delight when we rolled into the parking lot. I think she also enjoys carrying her own lunch box. She thinks that's pretty darn cool.

- hikes. If she could say "outside" yet, i think it might be her favorite word. Instead, she grabs at the front door handle with all of her might, hoping she can twist it enough to get it open. This week we hunted for frogs in the woods, played in tide pools at the beach, and watched the gophers shove their cheeks with grass at the dog park. (A big favorite). Steve was able to snap this rare photo of us (rare, because I"m usually behind the camera) in the fading sunset outside the butterfly preserve. I can't complain though. In fact, I guess I'm pretty lucky to have such an adventurous little girl.

Stella's Submission for Top Chef AND American Idol...

Growing up too fast

Next Tuesday, Stella starts at a local preschool 3 mornings a week. Okay, it's sort of a preschool and probably more of a daycare at her age, but nonetheless, I ran around Santa Barbara for two weeks looking at different places. We started a month ago with a babysitter at the home two mornings a week so this Momma here could write an article that she is WAY BEHIND on, and after the first week, I realized that 1) a local preschool was actually cheaper than an in-home babysitter and 2) Stella lights up when she interacts with other children, whether at the local playground, the beach, the dog park, etc. So partly motivated by my scant pocketbook, but mostly by Stella's need to socialize, I found a place that is within walking (or biking) distance to place her for a few mornings a week.

And then I freaked out that my baby girl was growing up.

I think what really made me realize that she was now a "big girl" and "going to school" was the need to purchase a lunch bag and small tupperware containers for her lunch. A lunch box? Already? (It's pretty cute, though, isn't it?)

This week we went a few mornings for a "Trial run." I stayed with her for the first day, disappeared for an hour the next day, and tomorrow, she is dropped off for the entire time, with me "on call" in case she melts down. The first day, she never looked back - just hopped into the sandbox with the other children, following them inside for quiet play and snacks, happily grabbed for paint brushes and pipe cleaners, and the like. The second day when I actually tried to leave, it was a little harder, with her wrapping her legs around my middle, crying big tears. (which, i was told, stopped in about 2 minutes after I left). Why do kids make it so hard on us parents? I walked to the local coffee shop with my research, feeling the largest hunk of guilt settling uneasily in my stomach. Steve wondered aloud at dinner last night if she's ready to be "institutionalized" - I asked him what he meant. "Oh, you know, learning to all line up, follow the leader, sitting down to lunch with a group of kids, taking directives... you know, the beginnings of institutionalization." Oh dear, it is as if we live in Communist state or something!

But in some ways, I hear his thoughts. I wonder how my free-spirit, my independent, stubborn, excitable daughter will act each day with a larger group of children. I wonder will she have as much passion for activities or will she stand back and watch? We are all different people in the comfort of our families versus in the company of others.

As I start to label her outside fleece, consider what the heck I'm going to pack in the lunch box, and plan my research agenda for the next few weeks, I want to hold all these moments, these precious toddler moments, in my head, and hope that in 20 years, I don't forget how great this time, being almost two. Sure, she exhausts me like hell, but I think I do secretly love (al)most every minute of it. Maybe this, this feeling, is why people want to have another kid. Not to deal with the terrible twos all over again, but to feel the wonderful twos all over again.

7:20 am, baby in stroller, with a bubble wrap package on her head, all of her own devising. Yep. That's our silly little gal.

Wordless Wednesday (almost)

If Stella were an actor, she'd have a pretty serious headshot.