There Are Children Living in my House

I was nursing Shira before her afternoon nap a few days ago, and I found myself looking around the girls' room, realizing that I am now a person who lives in a house with children. My children, even. Yup, every now and then it still shocks me that these two tiny girls are mine. And their stuff.






I'd been meaning to post some photos of their new room for a few weeks anyway. It's a lovely room, don't you think? If you were a little girl, wouldn't you just love the little kitchen? Alyce loves it the best, though she still doesn't fully appreciate the hours it took to put it together, even though I remind her regularly. One hundred screws.






When you're pregnant and awaiting the arrival of your baby, the geography of house changes drastically. Your house is now filled with diapers, tiny clothes, bulky plastic contraptions in which to contain the new baby (bouncy seats, exersaucers, swings), and bags of things 'the baby needs.' But I find the later changes even more jaw-dropping, like that I have a child who went to preschool, where her teachers traced her little body on paper, on which this child painted a purple dress.






Also mine, is this big baby who has fallen fast asleep while I'm dealing with the shock.

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Alyce woke up this morning with a sore throat and a cough. I should have guessed as much after our day yesterday. I wish I would realize these things before the smack me so hard in the face.

Also, Happy Monday! What are you starting fresh this week? Me, I'm hoping to follow through with my plans to get some extra exercise. Last week I baked the winter blues away; this week I hope to sweat them away.

Sunday

10:15 am

Help me, Internet.

Alyce is in meltdown mode, though I'm not sure what triggered it today. Wait, of course I do! Matt and I had an entire fun Sunday planned (the Children's Museum in Philadelphia). There were a lot of meltdown problems in December, but January was delightfully free of melodrama (not including a certain tiny non-sleeper), so today threw me for a loop. I was Unprepared Parent today (not the first, or the last, time), in shock that Alyce wouldn't get dressed so that we could go. After a few attempts to bring Alyce back down to Earth it has become clear that we're not going anywhere. Alyce is calming down (read: crying) in her room, while I calm down (read: mope over not going to the museum) in the living room.

10:45 am

So Alyce has calmed down and agreed to put on clothes, and I've asked her to spend the next hour playing quietly on her own. I'm still feeling a bit on edge (it's been a long morning on my own while Matt's working) and I need some space. Naturally Alyce has been standing one half inch away from me for twenty minutes, as she always does after she senses that I'm upset with her, as though she's trying to crawl back into the womb.*

11:00 am

We're still occupying the same physical space and I need a break. So I take Shira and head to our room, and Alyce is one tiny step behind me the whole time. She can sense that I'm frustrated and I can see in her little face that she just wants me. So I ask her to find some books and we all lay on our bed and it is lovely, except for having to read Dora's Flowers for Mami Unicorn for 5,867th time. Things go well until I ask her to stop kicking her sister, and then we're back to our separate time outs.

12:15 pm

Matt's home and I've escaped to the girls' room to nurse Shira before her nap, when she starts fighting me. I need that fight like I need another cat, so I put her in bed and I hide under my own covers. Alyce finds me in two minutes.

1:30 pm

Matt and Alyce are playing on the floor while I'm knitting on the couch. A lovely break! No wait, Alyce is trying to tie the yarn around her neck and I just know she's going to give me trouble when I ask her to stop strangling herself. Done and done. Another cry.

3:00 pm

Clearly I'm asking for trouble today, so why not push it just a tiny bit further? Alyce? Let's go to the mall!

3:30 pm

The mall on a Sunday is rough, but we're a team, me and Alyce. I've strapped her into the stroller (there will be no chasing through the mall today) and she's relatively happy to shop. Our mission today is to find pants that fit Shira's, ahem, rolls. To be fair, her cloth diaper makes pants difficult to fit. That, and she loves milk. We decided on some stretch pants and leggings, and an ice-cream t-shirt for Alyce.

4:00 pm

Getting out of the house is a good thing. Alyce thrives when we're on the go. Sure, she asks for the odd ice-cream cone, but otherwise she's giving me no real trouble. What she does give me are thirty questions every five minutes. After the day we'd had, I just can't take it anymore.

Alyce: I'm hungry.
Me: So we should home and have some dinner!
Alyce: Why should we go home?
Me: Because we're hungry.
Alyce: Why am I hungry?
Me: Because you haven't eaten in a little while and you told me you were.
Alyce: Why did I tell you?
Me: Because unicorns made you. (That's my most reliable answer.)

The sane part of my brain loves Alyce and her questions. I love to see those big eyes take in the world and then watch as her brow furrows (just like her papa) while she tries to figure it all out. But that part of my brain requires a steady stream of patience, and did you guess? I am all out.

4:20 pm

I'm pushing Alyce in her stroller, searching for our car. It takes us twenty minutes and Alyce is filled with helpful and hilarious suggestions, trying to help. We're both laughing when we find The Kia.

Somehow we ended today, lost, and making each other laugh.


*At one point today I asked Alyce if she remembered what it was like when she was growing in my uterus. She said it was soft.

Keep Checking Your Mailbox

Could she be any cuter? Certainly not. My Alyce was addressing and adorning a letter to her Nana today. Of course, her Nana won't receive this letter for a long while because she's busy cavorting in Mexico. Won't she be regretting her decision, now that she knows a letter from her grandchild is in her mailbox right now. I'm just saying.

Food on Friday

Because I was at home this week, and because I had a lot to think about, I spent many hours in the kitchen. It always makes me happier. If you are interested, here is a little bit of what I made:


This tomato lentil soup has become a regular in my winter cooking. I usually make it a couple of times a month and eat it with good bread and cheese.


I had extra pumpkin (see below) and so I made these pumpkin and cranberry muffins. The only changes I made was to substitute the millet with extra flour and add pumpkin seeds and a tiny bit of brown sugar to the top of the muffins before baking.


I make pumpkin bread at least twice a month, though Matt would prefer that I make it twice a week. I think pumpkin bread is in many ways a perfect food--it doesn't require any specialty ingredients (so you can make at a moment's notice), it contains one cup of pumpkin per loaf (which might be the only cup of vegetable that Alyce eats that week), and you can make it with chocolate chips. Done and done. The only tricky part about cooking with pumpkin is that it can sometimes be hard to find. For some ridiculous reason, stores often carry pureed pumpkin only during the holiday months of November and December (I'm looking at you, Trader Joe's). Of course during the fall you can find wonderful sugar pumpkins at the market, but the idea of roasting your own pumpkin sometimes scares people away, and I don't want to do anything to stand in the way of you making this. So, you can do what I do: stock your pantry with can after can of pumpkin.

I can't find the recipe online anywhere, but it comes from Eating for Pregnancy: An Essential Guide to Nutrition with Recipes for the Whole Family, by Catherine Jones, with Rose Ann Hudson. Because I've had so many people ask me for the recipe, I'll include it here. But I won't assault you with any photos of the batch I made yesterday, because I'm still learning (read: I don't take very good photos).


Patricia Terry's Pumpkin Bread
From Eating for Pregnancy

Makes two 8 1/2 x 4 1/2 loaves
This recipe halves easily (but why not make both and hide one in the freezer?)

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1 3/4 cups sugar (the original calls for 2 1/2 cups, but I prefer it less sweet, to make room for the chocolate later)
1/2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
1/2 cup canola oil
1/2 cup applesauce (you can substitute plain yogurt if you don't have applesauce)
2 large eggs plus 2 large egg whites
2/3 cup water
2 cups solid pack pumpkin (not pumpkin pie mix)
1 cup chocolate chips (optional, but strongly encouraged)

Preheat the over to 350 degrees F. Spray two loaf pans with cooking spray. In a very large bowl, mix together the dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the oil, eggs, egg whites, applesauce and water, and then add to the dry ingredients, making sure only to mix until all the ingredients are combined, and no more. Add the pumpkin and the chocolate chips and, again, stir only until just combined. Divide the batter between the two prepared pans and bake for 60-70 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Start checking at 60 minutes, because you don't want to overbake it. Cool before slicing.


If you have any extra pumpkin, I recommend that you add it to pancakes or french toast later in the week, or maybe even to your risotto. Alyce always approves of extra pumpkin.

Finally, I am not the only one thinking about summer this week. Just looking at these photos makes my skin feel warmer. I hope everyone has a great weekend. I, of course, plan on sleeping. What are your plans?

My co-conspirator in baking.

Five Minutes with Alyce

More snow.

Alyce was all ready for preschool this morning and Matt had gone outside to dig out the car (another blizzard last night). I was charged with getting Alyce's coat and boots on, but when I saw Alyce quietly spread out across the couch I was overcome with an urge to snuggle my three year old. I've always been a procrastinator.

The trouble is, Alyce isn't a snuggler. Oh, how she would please her mama if she would snuggle with me all the time, but that just isn't her way. On the day Alyce was born, having just returned home from the hospital a few hours after the birth, I had no idea how or where Alyce was supposed to sleep. It was late, we'd been up for over two days, and I was that kind of tired you get when you push out a baby. I placed Alyce in her enormous crib and realized that she was just too teeny tiny for a crib just yet. Our midwife had suggested that she just sleep with us, and while Matt and I had decided we weren't ready for co-sleeping, I figured I would give it a chance. What newborn, having just arrived on the outside, wouldn't want to snuggle with her mama in bed? Alyce, it turns out. She ended up spending the next two weeks in her car seat.

Can't you just hear her saying no to another hug?
Alyce, 2010

Alyce has never, not once, wanted to snuggle up and sleep with me. Well, actually, there was that fifteen minute stretch during a thunderstorm in 2010. And did she ever snuggle hard. Thunder aside, Alyce has never enjoyed being in bed with anyone, and sometimes just sitting too close together on the couch irritates her. She has always proclaimed her independence loud and clear, and if I ever had any doubts and thought I could sneak in a snuggle, my efforts were almost always met with an annoyed sigh (I think the annoyed sigh comes before the eye roll that she'll develop in a few years). I used to have one trick up my sleeve: for twenty-two months I was rewarded with snuggles when she was too busy to notice. When I would breastfeed Alyce, with her mind so focused on milk, she would lean in, wrap her hands around me, and relax in my arms. It took all of me not to smirk and boast about how I'd won and she'd been tricked, but I knew all too well that if Alyce was alerted to her carelessness she would immediately make distance between us. So I enjoyed it for almost two years, until I became pregnant with Shira. I miss nursing Alyce all the time, especially now that I have very little with which to lure her.

I love my relationship with Alyce. I know she loves me fiercely, and that she is delighted to see me each morning (except for those first few weeks after Shira was born). I sometimes feel that our relationship is so big and intense that we can become almost too close, if that makes any sense. On these days we are sensitive to one another and some times get our feelings hurt. And even on those days when I think she doesn't have much use for me, I can see her doing things to let me know otherwise (like having a meltdown the second I walk in the door if I've been away for the afternoon). What I've learned these past three years is that I can't control how Alyce loves me. I know that she does love me, but it's not up to me how she shows it. While most days she runs across her classroom at preschool to give me kisses and hugs, other days she needs her distance. And when I want to hug her good-bye in the morning, she'd rather show off her cool, calm, and collected self and just wave good-bye.

This morning, something sort of magical happened. Maybe it was the electricity of last night's snow storm (or something like that), but instead of pushing me away when I slid onto the couch with her, instead of moving the arm I slid across her, she snuggled right in. Without even speaking, she just settled in my arms and began to stroke my hair. Her big eyes took all of me in, as though she was either seeing me for the first time, or trying to memorize the rounds of my eyes and the wave of my hair so that she'd never forget. Then she rubbed my back, just like we used to do to her before bed. It was five minutes of bliss, and I'm not ashamed to say so.

For someone who, sigh, loves to be in control, Alyce has taught me that it's just not possible--at least not where it counts. Part of what makes these relationships so magnificent is that they are in many ways beyond our control. This is a very difficult lesson for me to learn. It's my thing, you could say. But I'm learning: we can decide how we want to act (I can tell her everyday that I love her or that I love being her mama) but I can't tell Alyce what to do. And when she does show me, I have to say, it's pretty amazing. I mean, look at this face:










P.S. Shira would prefer to snuggle at least twenty-three out of twenty-four hours each day. Be careful what you wish for, I remind myself when we're 'snuggling' together multiple times a night.

A Risky Development

Alyce now knows how to use the remote control. Come back next week when Alyce has mastered the DVR and replaced all my Ally McBeal reruns with episodes of Dora. I'm not even kidding.

On Making Changes

For the last two days I've been hiding in the house with Shira. She's been battling an evil cold and yesterday she was just too miserable to leave the house. Instead, she decided, she'd rather stay home and explore this box of toys:




Can you blame her?




She also spent some quality time with Hille, who was too busy hunting robins from the window to notice that Shira was within arm's reach from his tail. One day they'll be fast friends.



Today it was snow. Heaping piles of snow. Alyce's preschool was open and Matt, who thinks people take too many days off already--for silly things like pneumonia or national holidays--would never let a little blizzard keep him from the office. Me? I was happy to stay home another day with Shira, who was feeling much better today. I tried to tell her that all that extra sleep she's been getting at night (we've gone from waking eight times a night to twice!) is contributing to her brighter mood, but she just shook her head and went back to eating her sock. It's already clear, at eight months, that Shira has better things to do than pay any attention to my advice. Even though it's good advice, exceptional even. Nevertheless, we enjoyed another day at home.


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Why am I not at my linguistics class? Because my plans, again, have changed. I'm fighting my natural instinct to feel ashamed and flaky over making more changes to my plans, and instead I am trying to accept that change isn't a bad thing. Just as I learned that I didn't have to finish my doctorate just because ten years ago I had said it was something I'd wanted to do, I am learning that new plans can be changed, too. Or, tweaked.

That's what we've been doing lately--tweaking. Trying to make plans for the future when you have no idea what city (or state) you'll be living in come September is tricky (that's me putting it in happy, sparkly terms). Matt's fellowship at the university is up this summer and he is currently looking for a new job. The reality of job-hunting as an academic is that your new job could be in another time zone. This is how we ended up in Delaware in two and half years ago, and this is how we'll probably leave it. But back to my point: last fall, when I first decided to pursue teaching instead of completing my dissertation, I moved forward with a plan to get my certification to teach in public schools. I thought this would open up the most doors for me. To do so I would need to take some English courses and apply to a graduate program in education that certifies would-be teachers who have previous degrees. Without certification I could only apply to some charter and private schools. It was exciting to make a decision and move forward, and this is how I wound up in Linguistics 101.

I think we moved forward with my plan a little quickly, motivated by excitement and a sense relief that I would no longer be slumped on the couch sobbing through a page of my dissertation research. But reality looks a bit different. In order to take all these classes we need child care for both kids (which is expensive) and would require a financial sacrifice over the next year that we really cannot afford. If following these particular paths were a part of my biggest hopes and dreams we would figure something out, but they are not. Matt and I sat down together and talked about this last week, and we asked ourselves what we really wanted from the next two years. First, a tenure-track job for my brilliant husband. Done and done (or, at least, I have all the confidence in the world that a department will scoop him up in no time). Second, we both want a third child. I know, I know, we'll be outnumbered by cats and children, but it's what we want. Not tomorrow, but in the next year or two.

Having made this clear to ourselves, we can make decisions accordingly. For myself, I still want to be a teacher, but I don't want to return to school (at this point) to make that happen. I will instead look for a place to teach this September, you know, once we know where we will be living. Watch out, children of Texas, you might have a Canadian amongst you soon! I'll get you spelling 'colour' in no time! So for now I am not going to continue in linguistics because it was a credit necessary for a very particular graduate program that I no longer need. I am still taking a course in American Literature in the coming term, because 1) I love reading, 2) it's free, thanks to Matt being faculty, and 3) my future students will only accept so much Margaret Atwood and Mordecai Richler for so long before they rise up and demand someone local.

Stay tuned for more changes. I don't want to overwhelm you all at once.

Anyone else making a big change?