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.

Snow

We are at a cabin/house in Northern California.

There is 4 feet of snow around us - more with drifts.

This is the first time that Stella or Scuppy (and of course Louisa) have seen snow.

Ever.

We go out in it twice a day - once in the morning and then again after nap time. Stella loves it. Scuppy could care less and pees on the deck so he doesn't have to go out in it.

Needless to say, we are having an awesome time. It's damn cold. Colder than Steve and I have felt in 10+ years. But it's a blast.

I mean, at least for a week.

uh oh

guess who is army crawling something fierce?

guess who is sitting up and then crawling and then sitting up all on her own?

guess who just decided that maybe she could even try to pull herself up?

uh oh. there goes the neighborhood.

and maybe the Christmas tree....

Fabric

A friend of my parents' daughter is expecting twin girls in January. Eek. I have been piling away Louisa's old clothes, wondering what to do with them, wondering if I should save yet another round of clothes for...

And then I decided that I'd just save the gender neutral stuff and give it all to her. I mean, twin girls? She is going to need some stuff. I packed the pile of everything from 0-6 months last night. And I couldn't believe how emotional I became. Over some clothes. They are just clothes right?

I remember each piece. Who gave it to us. If it was new for Louisa, or if it was a hand-me-down from Stella... or even if it was a hand-me-down from our gracious benefactress of hand-me-downs... Some of those sleepers snuggled 3 girls. And now, they might snuggle two more.

Why did I get emotional over some clothes? For someone that has researched the power of iconography for the last 7 years, I should certainly know about how memories can be stored in inanimate objects. But as I slowly and methodically folded up tiny onesies, sleepers that will never fit Stella or Louisa again, tears slowly melted down my cheeks... the clothes a tangible reminder of how we can never return. How we can never stop the clock. How our children move and change so quickly that even photos, even this blog narrative, cannot stick them in time; pause time; stop time.

Steve said to me yesterday how much fun he is having being home with Louisa. His throat stuck as he said he never got to have this much time with Stella when she was a baby... and yet, my throat stuck as I am not getting the time with Louisa.... although I supposed it's only fair. Both the girls are infinitely lucky that they have had the time with a parent -- and in some ways, it's wonderful that each got to bond with us in different ways. Stella still prefers me, hands-down, to Steve when things are tough, when it's 5 in the morning and she can't sleep, when she needs a big hug. Louisa, on the other hand, was a cranky pants at 3am, and Steve was the only one that could get her back to sleep.

It's not that I want them to stop changing, stop growing. In fact, each new developmental change with Stella, although sometimes PAINFUL in the transition, has been a wonderful discovery for us. The ways in which she learns, the ways in which she conceptually thinks through her world. And I look forward to it with Louisa. Even now, she's already saying "mama" and "dada" - and sometimes, just sometimes, I think she gets what she's saying when she says it, instead of it just being a string of babbling syllables.

We put up white Christmas lights around the yard this past weekend and I said to Stella last night that it reminds me of a piazza. I explained to her the concept of an Italian piazza and we showed her some pictures on Google. Thirty minutes later she asked to go outside to enjoy the night and the "what's the town mommy? the square? you know?" At first I was confused and she started to cry that she couldn't remember what she wanted to say. "Oh, you mean, you want to go outside in the piazza?" Oh yes, the piazza, she replied, tears wiped away, and happy that she had discovered/re-remembered a new word.

"Isn't it lovely, mama?" she asked.

Yes my love. It is lovely. All of it.

Fashionista

Stella looked at the full moon on our walk home from the playground. She said, I want to go to the Moon someday. I told her that she probably could - and then if she wanted to be a scientist or an engineer, then that might prepare her to be an astronaut who could go to the moon.

I don't want to be an astronaut.

Why? I asked. I just don't. Hmm, well, you need to be an astronaut to go to the Moon (I decided that getting into the privatization of the space program might be a little over her head).

I don't like what they wear.

Huh?

I don't like white. I don't like the white suits.

Oh- the white space suits?

Yes, I don't want to be an astronaut and wear the white suits.

Um, okay, Stella, maybe when you're old enough to be an astronaut, the suits will be blue.

Or purple?

Sure, or purple.

Okay, then I'll be an astronaut and go to the moon.

Awesome.

Listening

Whoever said that the twos were terrible had not got to the threes. Let's just say that age 3 to 4 is tough. I think I've complained, I mean, mentioned about this before. Lately, our problem has been listening. Stella, can you please sit in your chair at dinner (her record lately has been 3 minutes. ugh). Stella, it's time for a bath, can you come up with Mommy? Stella, it's not time to jump on your bed; you need to get your underwear and pajamas on. Stella, it's time to go potty before bed. I feel like all we're doing with her lately is harping on her, but it seems that we have to say things 3..4...7... times before she does anything.

So the other night, we were calmly piled in our bed, reading books before bedtime. It had just been a tiring evening of getting her to eat dinner, sharing toys with her sister (don't even get me started on that. Poor Louisa is lucky sometimes if she gets a rattle to play with), and the bathtime routine. Steve started to tell her about Santa. Stella's pretty interested in Santa this year. In fact, the day after Thanksgiving, she told me very seriously, "Mommy, I believe it's almost Christmastime!" We don't even have a TV, but man, advance Christmas commercialism has even got her too.

So, Steve said, you know who only gets presents at Christmas?
"Me?"
No, Stella, only girls and boys that are behaving good. Listening at school to their teachers, listening to their parents, doing the things that they ask when they ask them.
"Oh."
So Stella, if you'd like Santa to come this year and give you presents, then you need to start listening to your parents. We need to see your good behavior so we can tell Santa that you deserve presents.

(beat)

"Okay, I will happily start listening tomorrow."

Steve and I did all we could do not to burst out laughing.

- - -

In other news, Louisa has started army crawling. And finding all the minuscule minutia on the floor. Like tiny pieces of fluff from Scupper's stuffed animals. Like a piece of a tennis ball. Like a flake of oatmeal. Really? All of these things on our off-white carpet? Seems that besides vacuuming twice a week, we'll need to get down on the floor with our eagle eyes and be careful. It's amazing how soon we forget about the whole baby-proofing the house.
- - -

A few weeks ago we escaped 30 minutes out to the desert to Red Rock Canyon. While still a pile of sand and rock (as is most of Las Vegas, plus tacky hotels and concrete), the warmth of the sun, the openess of the sky, and the brisk air was refreshing. Stella did the whole hike herself (new sneakers are awesome motivators) and enjoyed watching the climbers traversing the rocks.

my sweet little one

How is it that the poor second child doesn't get enough blog time like her big sister? I fear this might always be the case with the most chill one of our bunch. She's been the most calm part of our family since she breezed her way into this world. She never really cries, and when she does, you know that she needs something really bad. Otherwise, it's the occasional fuss. It has been a joy to watch her come into her own in the last few months. It's as if after six month, babies find a personality, or maybe it's that we finally find their personality that they have already always had. Louisa may be easy going, but she is determined. In the past two weeks, she's learned to army-crawl. And her ability to zero-in on something she wants has never been more clear. That speck of dirt across the floor? I want it. and bam. She's there. That toy that is completely out of reach? Got it. Those carrots? No thank you, I'm done with you shoving them in my face and they are now splattered across the tray and then the floor.

Yet all of this determination is done with such joy, such verve, that it's hard to be frustrated. She cackled last night in our tug of war over the warm washcloth that I was trying to use to wipe away those carrots. Cackled with joy - calculated joy, I feel, but none the less, happiness. In the middle of the night last night, she was fussing, and when I came in, her face lit up in the night-lighted darkness, and a giggle issued from her mouth. Oh good! Mommy's here! Awesome! It was hard to be frustrated that she was up, as usual, at 2:45am.

Unlike her sister was at this age, Louisa babbles constantly. Certainly, she has to keep up with Stella's talking and singing, and the "ba-ba-ba-ma-da" comes out of her mouth a lot. In fact, yesterday in the car ride home, Stella yelled at one point, "Louisa stop it!! I don't want to listen to you anymore!" ha. Taste of your own medicine, my dear. I don't think we'll ever have to worry about Louisa talking late.

Experiencing this baby, this time around, has been so much sweeter, in some ways. Steve and I keep trying to remember whether we felt so loopy around Stella, so in love. And of course, I'm sure we were. But we were also neurotic, and scared, and confused, and un-sure parents. While we fawned over our first born (and certainly still do) I feel in some ways wonderfully blessed to experience babyhood again, from a more learned, more relaxed perspective. Louisa, my love, you are a joy.