Eleven Months

Shira is eleven months today. Eleven months ago I was a very happy, round pregnant woman. Eleven months ago I was convinced she was coming early (she didn't). Eleven months ago I was sad that we were all alone in Delaware. Eleven months ago I had no idea just how much I would adore this little one.

Sometimes I'm running around doing all the things that I do and Shira will raise her baby arms for ride on mama, and I'm stopped in my tracks by the softness of her cheeks.

I am determined not to let this last month of her first year disappear without notice. We are in the middle of making so many plans and I don't want to forget that soon it is her first birthday. Soon she'll be more interested in her big sister than she is me. Soon she'll choose a cup over nursing. It's not much of a secret, but I right now, she's all mine. She adores the rest of the world, but she still chooses me. And I want to keep it that way for a little while longer. Maybe another twenty years.

Ten Things About My Week

1. There is very little I enjoy more than a girl committed to her personal style. This ensemble took Alyce to the library.

2. I do not enjoy writing my resume. What is it about people (ok, me) that makes this kind of work so completing irritating? I could feel exhilarated by new opportunities instead of being annoyed, but I'm finding it so painful trying to describe how my hundred years in graduate school make me qualified for other work. And I can't seem to find the right place to include my three years studying Sanskrit and Tibetan. Or that first chapter of my dissertation. I'm sure I'm the first person in the history of employment to say this, but why can't someone just give me the perfect job already?

3. I'm a big sister but I didn't end up that way until I was twenty-six. This means that I'm completely clueless when it comes to growing up with siblings and I'm having to learn right alongside Alyce and Shira as they figure this stuff out. I really have no idea what I'm doing. I do know that I have said "gentle hands, Alyce" roughly 5,786 times this week alone. We've also instituted a new family rule about hands around other people's necks. But we've also had moments like this one:

Shira might not have necessarily consented to a morning playing dress-up in summer clothes, but she's not screaming (and, the rolls). And Alyce seems to be enjoying her new role as stylist.

4. Grown-up dinners with good girlfriends are the absolute best way to get over a long week. There was wine, good food, no children, and did I mention no children?  Next time I might even wear my big-girl bra and leave the nursing tank at home. Thanks, Dani, for a much-needed night out. (We had so much fun that I forgot to order take-out for Matt before the kitchen closed. Sorry about that, Matty.)

5. I've had a hard time keeping Shira in clothes this week. Because, the rolls.

6. I'm in the middle of a losing battle against sugar. I have found myself completely addicted to it and my addiction might be worthy of a period of rehabilitation, or maybe even an intervention-type reality show, but then I would be exposed for the addict I truly am, and I'd probably have to stop eating sugar. Which I can't do because it is so delicious. I blame, in part, my new Kitchen Aid mixer for being such a damn fine baking partner. And the internet, for enabling my search for new and delightful things to bake. Like this bread.

7. I have thrown myself into some big knitting plans for the summer with the recent purchase of this book and this one. I'm thinking that knitting all summer will 1) help me pass the time* while Matt is traipsing around Europe with his study abroad students, and 2) result in clothes ready to wear when winter begins in a very, very, very long time from now. Do you hear that, winter? In a very, very, very long time.

8. Matt took the girls to the park while I had a nap. Enough said.

9.  Speaking of Matt, he is currently preoccupied with a ongoing trade (involving Adam Dunn, Marco Scutaro, Hiroki Kuroda for Travis Snider, Madison Bumgarner, a second round pick, and salary relief) in one of his two fantasy baseball leagues. To this point the trade has involved thirty emails. I'll be sure to keep you all posted. UPDATE: trade accepted. Everyone can breathe again.

10.  Shira slept well for another week. This still qualifies as news.

*Because I will have so much free time on my hands after looking after the girls, looking after the cats, looking for a new career, and finding a new place to live.

Greetings, Toronto

I'm in Delaware, thinking about Toronto. Thinking about home.

This postcard, taped to our bathroom mirror, greets me each morning. The house is a mess, there is so much to do before I'll make Canada my full-time home again, but I just wanted it to know that we're on our way. Yes, Toronto, we all be there soon.

Shira's napping, I have coffee and breakfast, Alyce is with Matt running errands, and I have a piled of boxes in the basement with my name on them. Fortunately for me, I have a new label maker to make all this packing even more fun. Oh yes, I do. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some organizing to do.

Ups and Downs

The day had its ups and downs. I'll get the downs out of the way first: a few too many Alyce meltdowns for my taste, and that time at the mall this morning when she sprinted through the mall after I calmly alerted her that it was time to go. Thank you to that woman who stopped her for me and held her down in front of the The Gap.

But the ups were good: we enjoyed a beautiful spring afternoon at the park with good friends. Highlights included Alyce hanging from the monkey bars, daffodils, Red Light/Green Light (to which we added Purple Light), and swings. Downs, at least for Alyce, included spiders.

Is it just me, or does Shira on the swing look like a retired grandmother in Florida?

How did you spend your afternoon today? Working or playing?

Dear Alyce, Concering You Being Three

Dear Alyce, Concerning You Being Three:

My Alyce. You have grown into a delicious little girl. Yesterday you informed me that when you grow up you'd like to be both a princess and a dragon-catcher. I appreciate your combined desire for luxury and adventure. I am happy to support your ambitions in any way that I can. I do hope, however, that you permit me to be something else besides your prince, which is the title you bestow on me when we're playing dancing princesses. I guess being a prince is better than only being your lady in waiting, especially if as your prince I can join you on your dragon-finding expeditions. But I like beautiful gowns, too. Let's make Hille your prince. He won't mind. In fact, I think he'd kind of like it.

But your sometimes your world is more than twirling princesses and chasing dragons. Sometimes your days are filled with the most powerful emotions I've ever seen, soaring up and down at a moment's notice, catching the entire house off-guard. One moment you are Sleeping Beauty, dressed in your best pjs and crown, and the next you are losing that crowned head because I asked you to wash your hands after using the potty. You aren't just annoyed that I'm getting in your royal way with my tedious requests, you are collapsed in a heap of despair. This despair is the most intense, chaotic, melodramatic emotion I've witnessed. Ever.

Just yesterday I was loading the dishwasher, and when I asked you to wait before pushing in the racks (seeing as my hands were still inside the dishwasher), in what I thought was my perfectly patient parenting voice, your response felt catastrophic. I don't want to even get into the details of what happened next, as neither of us come out looking good. Let's just say that later, when we were both done crying, I appreciated how you gave me your best bunny to squeeze and how you rubbed my face.

At three, your days are often dances between two worlds, between dancing princesses and an exceedingly cruel reality where your parents insist that you wash your hands/don't sit on your sister or hit your mama/put on your dress/ok, put on your other dress/ok, fine, put on that other dress/please don't collapse into another tragic heap/and other seemingly ridiculous demands. Sometimes I forget that you are so busy learning how to do everything that you don't have time to worry about pleasantries. You are three. You are excited, impatient, curious, and sensitive. You are three.

EverydaySomedays I forget that you are three and I expect you to comply with my very reasonable demands. And everydaysomdays I forget that I am the grown-up and that I should limit my own meltdowns appropriately (one, maybe two, per day). I expect that we will figure this all out sometime soon, hopefully before Shira turns three. At the very least I'll make you deal with her. Speaking of Shira, I think she'd make a very fine prince.

Yours sincerely,

The woman who grew you in my belly and then pushed you out after more than one day of labour. Without painkillers. Also known as Mama. xxx

A little rain

You might disagree, but I think the weather today is just perfect. There is plenty of rain, low grey skies, and just that hint of darkness that strangely enough seems to make the world glow. I could look outside all day long, especially when the view includes this Alyce attempting a world-record breaking jump. In her frog boots.

We're enjoying a quiet day around here today. There was some melodrama surrounding getting dressed this morning, but since we overcame that dreadful hurdle, we've been puttering around the house in a manner fitting a rainy day. We've danced to princess music*, read some new favourite books, and Alyce is just finishing up with her newest obsession, The Frog Prince. Next up, some very serious colouring.

I hope everyone else is able to enjoy a little rain today!

*I embarrassed myself attempting what I thought was a simple twirl and twisted my ankle. My ankle is fine, but my pride, as someone with years of ballet in her past, is suffering quite a blow.

We're working on it

Alyce and I have had a tough couple of months at home. We've stolen some wonderful days together, but her time spent at home with me and Shira since leaving daycare has sparked a new round of sibling jealously. Daycare gave Alyce a place of her own, with teachers who loved her and lots of little friends she looked forward to seeing each morning. I know that she felt special there and at times I feel guilty for bringing her home with me full-time, but then I remind myself that there are worse things for a three year old than staying home with family who love her. I know she's enjoying our new routines at home, but to say that the transition has been rough is an understatement. I imagine that the trials of being the older sister are defined by the sometimes tragic reality that your younger sister is going to get in your way. It's a lot to get used to.

I really have no business thinking that I can teach a class about preparing siblings for the birth of a new baby.

When Shira was first born, Alyce wouldn't hug me. For a week. She was very happy to have a little sister, but was less happy that I had agreed to be a mama to them both. Maybe she expected us to bring home an additional mama for the new baby? I'll admit, I wouldn't turn down the extra set of hands. In Alyce's first few weeks as a big sister she started hitting me, and only me, all the time. I was a bit devastated (and hormonal) that my sweet, sweet Alyce was acting a bit like a thug. With her mama. Who gave birth to her and nursed her for twenty-two months. Her hitting and general disdain for a shared mama disappeared after a month or two, though at the time it felt like a year or two. Well, now it feels like a decade or two because she's back to hitting me again, and now she's hitting Shira too. To be clear: sometimes she's just standing on top of Shira, or bending her arm backward, or squeezing very hard, but however you classify it, it's feeling out of control some days. 

Friday, the day of this photo, was one of those days. In an effort to reign in the crazy we bundled up and started on a walk, only to be greeted by heavy rain. So we returned home, build a fort in the living room, and collapsed under it. At this point I had lost count of how many times Alyce had hit the two of us, sometimes in anger, sometimes for no reason at all (though I don't actually believe that. I just don't know the reason). Alyce is a delicious child who entertains so many people with her sweet silliness. Just today friends told us that watching Alyce makes them want to have their own children. I beam, of course, because I know it's true. She's an amazing little thing of a girl who I couldn't love more. I know she's special. But I also know that this week she hit me and her sister constantly. And it sucks. I look at this photo and I see just how exasperated I feel in these moments, but I also see how much I love her.

I think the best thing to do now is to keep reminding her that we don't hit and remind her of the consequences of her actions (I just need to figure out what these consequences should be). I don't ever want Alyce to think that hitting is good way to show someone that you're mad. She will have to learn how to use words (I'd accept a poem, too, or even a typed list) to express her feelings and that's that. And then I should probably relax and just admit that parenting is tricky some days. I should remind myself to cut me some slack when I react poorly in these moments. I don't know about you, but telling myself to relax about something rarely works. I can be very stubborn. But I'll be the first to say it:

Relax.

Anyone else have experience with hitting? Should I buy protective gear for Shira?