Quiet Time

It's quiet time.  Quiet time is mine, one hour that I can do whatever I want and not have to worry about what the children are doing.

I could catch up on a show.  I could fold one of the 37 loads of laundry waiting to be folded.  I could waste time on the internet.  Usually I am doing one or more of these things.

But not today.  Today I am listening.  I am straining my ears for the sounds the children are making.

They are each behind closed doors, wrapped up in their own little world.  Bunny is playing with her dogs, Lion his superheros.  Their play is imaginative.  They tell stories.  They make up voices.

I drink up the sounds they are making.  I store away the way the stories are told.  Their voices open up the beauty of their worlds.

I move closer to their closed doors.  I don't want them to know I am listening.  Bunny is likely to shut down if she heard me.  This is hers, not mine.  Lion is the opposite.  He craves an audience.  He would fling open the door and demand my presence.  His becomes ours.

I do not stay long.  I cannot.  It is theirs, I must be contented with the glimpse I have stolen.

Magic Snow

This winter in Wisconsin, my kids were yearning for snow. Every day Lion would ask if it was going to snow. Every day I would tell him no.

Instead of snow, we enjoyed 40s and even 50s. We went to the zoo. We played outside. We had loads of fun. But we missed the snow.

Finally last week the snow came. The kids were overjoyed. Snow pants, boots, hats and mittens were donned so they could get down to the business of playing. Tracks were followed. Angels were made. But most of all they wanted snowballs, oh how they wanted snowballs.

Snowballs to throw at trees and cars. Snowballs to throw at daddy. Snowballs to throw at mommy. Snowballs to throw at eachother.

When it was time to come inside, the snowballs had to come too. They must be saved for later, for that one special moment when it will be just right to throw. So the snowballs went into the freezer.

As the week wore on, our collection of freezer snowballs grew.
"This one is perfect momma."

"Dis insyde momma. I wov dis one."

"Momma look a heart shaped snowball."

"Maybe we could save enough snowballs to build a huge fort. Wouldn't that be cool?"

I think we are going to need a bigger freezer.

Snapshot

I want to take a snapshot of exactly how you are right now. I want to carry it with me always to remind me of this time. This time when you were mine, only mine. A time before you belonged to the world of school, friends and teachers. A time when I was the center of your world and you were the center of mine. A time before you have to share me with Turtle, a brother, an unknown. A time when it was just the two of us.

In my snapshot there will be a sunny, warm day. There will be a playground full of children laughing, shouting, running and playing. But my snapshot will not focus on that action, instead we will be a few yards away. We will be under the shade of two large burr oak trees. The sunlight will filter through the trees, dancing on the ground as the wind blows the leaves above.

We will stand there you and I, together. We are apart from the action and the chaos of the playground because we have a greater purpose. There is work to be done. There are things to discover. There is nature to explore.

In my snapshot, you will be crouched above the ground, reaching down, examining what nature has to offer. I will stand nearby with my hand stretched out, waiting. Occasionally you will turn to me with a new discovery, a leaf, an acorn, the whole world. You will place it in my outstretched hand for safe keeping. You know that I will hold your treasure as dear as I hold you.

You find an acorn cap from the burr oak, you turn to me and exclaim "Momma, this is an acorn pail just like mouse had in Bear Wants More." For a moment, I am stunned that you can remember such a small detail but then I realize that is who you are. You remember things.

We talk about how we can't take all the acorns. We have to save some for the squirrels and chippers. I tell you how they will collect the acorns and other seeds and they will store them for winter. You pause for just a moment, letting this information sink in, thinking. Then you grab some sticks and leaves. You bend over, close to the ground, working furiously. You turn and gather some acorns, And then you turn back to your work. You step back to survey your work. You make a few final adjustments. You stand up with a satisfied look in your face and say "Momma, I made an acorn house for the squirrels." And it is perfect.

Full of your accomplishment, you move on. You exclaim with delight when you find a lady bug. You pick it up, letting it crawl on your hand. You hold on to it, not wanting it to get away. For a moment, I cringe. I don't want you to love this bug too much, until there is nothing left. But you don't. You know better. Holding the bug in one hand, you grab acorn caps with the other. You place the lady bug in a cap and cover it with another cap, building a cage, a home for the bug. You carry that home with you for the rest of our adventure, occasionally opening it to check on him. Placing a blade of grass in the house so he has something to eat. You care so much about this little lady bug, you want to make sure he is safe.

When my hands are too full of treasures, it is time to go. You find some soft leaves. You gather them into a pile. You open the lady bug house and you place him gently on the leaves. You try to remember the rhyme "lady bug, lady bug fly away home" but you forget how it goes. But it doesn't matter, you make up your own version and it fits, perfectly.

On the way to the car, we find another acorn. You pick it up to examine it. You hold it up for me to see. "Momma, this acorn is different. Its from a white oak." Of course it is. And it comes home with the rest of our treasures.

This is how I see you, so excited about the world and all of the mysteries it holds. You can't wait to learn. You want to know everything. You want to know it right now.

I want to capture this moment. I want to place it in a locket around my neck, and wear it next to my heart. You are wonderful now. You are perfect. You are 3 1/2. You are ancient. You are timeless. You are my daughter and I love you.

This One Is All Glitter Hearts and Balloons

I've been feeling a bit angsty lately if you haven't noticed. But that is not all that is going on in our world. Lots of things have been wonderful so I thought I'd share some with you.

Bunny's new thing is when you say "I don't know" or "Yeah" she gets quite angry. "Don't say that momma. Saying that makes Giganta's book go away and he loves his book. Don't make it go away." Well all righty, she sure told me.

She's also asking a lot of why questions, of course she is, she's 3. We always try and give the right answer. There is no sense in making something up, its better to tell her the truth. I think she appreciates it, even if she doesn't always understand the answer.

But what do you say to this question: "Momma, why are the dinosaurs extinct?"

"Um, well . . . you see know one really knows. There have been lots of theories but none of them have been proven. Maybe when you get bigger you can be a scientist and you can figure out."

"Oh yes, I be dino scientist. I love dinos."

She is also all about the glitter stickers. If she could she would cover every surface in our house with glitter stickers (which may actually be an improvement). Right now there are some on our side table in the living room, on the bathroom walls, on her horses and on every piece of art in the place. The plastic/paper backings are floating all around. The forced air heat keeps blowing them around making it nearly impossible to pick them all up. Of course I keep buying the stickers whenever I see them.

We still have the #3 mylar balloon we bought for her birthday over three weeks ago. I can't belive its lived this long, but it has. The regular balloons were released from captivity to go to live in the stars. Do you know why the stars are so bright? Its because all the balloons live in the stars (ok maybe we don't always tell her the truth but I like this little story).

Dolls Are No Fun

There were several moments this weekend that captured the essence of Bunny, exactly who she is right now.

She was looking at some leaves we had found the day before. "What this leaf, momma?" That is a maple. "What this one?" That is an oak leaf. "What this one?" I don't know honey. "Let's go look it up on the computer, momma." Yes, that is right, at 2 2/3 she knows that you can find the answer to all things on the computer.

During the car ride to the pumpkin farm she was telling me everything she and daddy had played with that morning. Did you play with Dinos? "Yes." Did you play with playdough? "Yes." Did you color? "Yes." Did you play with dolls? "No. Dolls are no fun."

Watching me put on lipstick, "can I have some lipstick, momma?"

At the apple orchard, stuffing her mouth with an apple with one hand while picking up all the fallen apples and throwing them away with the other.

While on the hayride, "Are the cows gonna eat this hay later, momma?"

While picking pumpkins, "I don't wanna hold the pumpkin, its dirty."

Another family at the farm found a caterpillar which was passed around to all the kids on the hayride. While holding the caterpillar "its tickly momma. Can we keep him?" No honey he lives at the farm. "I love the caterpillar momma."

She loves dinos and hates dolls. She is fascinated by bugs and science but doesn't want to get dirty. She wants to learn about everything and wants to wear lipstick to look pretty while doing it. That is my Bunny.

Attitude of Gratitude May 28th

Its Wednesday again and it is time to share what I am greatful for.

Today I am greatful for a toddler's imagination. Yesterday Bunny and I spent over 1/2 hour sitting on my bed pretending. The bed was the park and we were swinging on it. Then it was the beach where we built sand castles. Then we went to sleep in the sand castles. Finally it was a car. I had the blue car and Bunny had the black one and we were saving the purple car for Daddy.

It was the first time I saw her pretending without the aid of any toys. This all just came out of her imagination. It was beautiful and fun and I will treasure it forever.

When exactly did it happen?

When did I become lame? (Wait you probably shouldn't answer that because some will say I've alwasy been lame. I have been physically incapable of staying out until midnight for at least 5 years now, so yeah I'm lame.)

But when did my idea of Saturday night entertainment become drinking a glass of wine with Bubs and listening to Bunny talk on the baby monitor?

It happened like this, I got Bunny settled in her crib at 8:45 pm and headed downstaris to Bubs. He was checking baseball scores online (lame). So I started to clean up the living room (lame) and Bubs headed into the kitchen to do the dishes (lame). He said do you want to watch a movie? DVD player isn't working (lame). Do you want to rent a movie on the TV? We didn't like any last time (lame). Do you want to play a board game? Lame.

So we settled down on the couch with our glasses of wine to find something to watch on TV. Meanwhile Bunny started saying the alphabet in her room, only it sounded like she had her tounge stuck out. Then she started saying Fa Fa Fa Foo Foo, Fa Fa Fa Funny and Ja Ja Ja Jelly. You see I've been teaching her the sounds letters make and how they relate to words - so I was very proud that she got it right and was practicing. Maybe I'm not so bad at this mom thing.

We were commenting on this very fact when Bubs turned to me and said "This is lame. Sitting listening to a baby monitor on a Saturday night." And lame it was, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Eavesdropping

I admit it. I love to eavesdrop on Bunny. Its so much fun to find out how a 2 yr old mind works.

We still have our baby monitor hooked up. I generally only turn it on when we are sleeping or if I am in another part of the house (sound travels pretty well here so I know when she is crying). Mainly I am paranoid that she will try to get out of her crib, fall and hurt herself. She did it once and once was enough for me (and for her it seems).

But when she is still awake in her crib she carrys on these wonderful conversations with her stuffed animals. One day we went to the bookstore and that afternoon at naptime Panda bear also went to the bookstore. He had to find his coat and hold her hand. Stuff that I had said to her earlier. But then the 2 yr old took over, she said "that's not your coat Panda, that's a circle. No that's not it either that's a worm." Huh?

When she stayed over at my parents' house they reported her saying "I love ice cream and ketchup." Well don't we all. But too cute nonetheless.

Last night she talked for about an hour. She told her animals about our trip to a restaraunt with a playland. Then she started repeating the cats' names over and over, almost like a chant. "Basco, Basco, Basco, Basco, boo." (Tabasco) "Miss Troit, Miss Troit, Miss Troit, Miss Troit" (Detroit - yes I know its a weird name for a cat but that's her name). This chanting went on for about 5 - 10 minutes. It was almost like she was summoning them to appear before her. But they are too lazy to go up there and open the door.

I cherish these conversations and will miss them when she's 15 and yells at me for even being in the same room with her when she's on the phone.