Quickies…

Leaving the house today, Jacey told me, “I will bring my Bible with me so I can read it in the store. That way I will not forget about God at the store.”

And that, folks, is how you know you’re doing something right.

~~~

Rylan is cutting his fourth tooth (bottom front two came in on the same night toward the beginning of October, top right was… November 16? Wednesday night either the week before or after Thanksgiving, now working on top left). He’s cruising all over the place, but he gets stuck UP–he doesn’t know how to let go of the couch/fireplace/toy he’s hanging onto and sit down. So he just cries until he falls or you come rescue him, whatever comes first.

~~~

If I leave the room to do something and both kids are in the room and Rylan fusses, Jacey will follow me and let me know, “Rylan is really sad that you left him. So will you come back so he can be happy?”

~~~

I got several great ideas from friends for “mama dolls,” but the mama doll didn’t make it on Jacey’s list for Santa, after all. So we’re off the hook there.

~~~

So do you have to teach kids modesty, or do they pick up on it themselves? Because, at some point, “I’m so pretty.” “That was really sweet of me!” and “That was a really pretty song I just made up.” won’t be so cute anymore!

To grandmother’s house

Jacey just had her first stay in Bonham without us. It’s the longest she’s ever been away from us: three nights. She and Cousin Haden came up on Saturday (Daddy and Uncle Jared drove Jacey and Haden halfway on Saturday and Nunu and Papaw came halfway to pick them up); Tuesday, Haden went home, and Daddy, Rylan, and I came up here.

She didn’t even miss us.

And I’m torn over this.

I’m thrilled that she loves her grandparents and that she doesn’t need us around all the time. It shows that she’s growing up and becoming self-confident and independent. We’ve done a good job of helping her adjust from the  needy mama’s girl she was a year ago to the big girl she is today.

But she didn’t even miss us!

Oh, she was happy to see us. She gave us kisses and hugs. She asked for me to put her to bed last night rather than Nunu. But she could’ve stayed a lot longer than three days without us. In fact, given the choice, I’m not sure she’d ever come home!

A while ago, she spent Saturday night with Mimi and Gramps. I went to pick her up from Bible class on Sunday morning and I said, “Did you miss us?”

“Yeah!” she said. “Can I keep spending the night with Mimi and Gramps?”

I know grandparents’ houses are fun. I know there are fewer rules and more sweets and more attention from the grown-ups than at home. And, this time, she had Haden here, too, and he’s way more fun than a baby brother! After all, he plays back… and doesn’t pull her hair. (I hope.)

But, as a parent, you still kind of want to know that you’re first. I was wondering–when would she prefer Mama and Daddy to grandparents? When would it be enough, and she’d be ready to come home? I suppose whenever the trip stretched out long enough that the rules had to go in effect there just like at home. What about if she was sick? Would she prefer Mama’s care to a grandma’s? Is that the only time she might prefer us to them?

Anyway, this was a huge milestone. I’m glad she can spend time without us. I’m glad I survived time without her! (It helped that I was sick with allergies and busy getting ready to come up here for Thanksgiving.)

But I kind of wish she’d missed us. Just a little bit.

Ah, well. Maybe next time.

Love

Ever since I had Rylan, I’ve done a lot of comparing in my head. Comparing pregnancies, labors, deliveries, and early months of raising each of my children.

My pregnancy with Rylan was physically much harder than my pregnancy with Jacey. I had tons of migraines in the early months, and lots of nausea, although I never threw up. My back hurt more, my ligaments loosened earlier so my hips hurt, I got bigger sooner. With Jacey, my only physical issue was exhaustion, and maybe a little back pain as I got bigger towards the end of the pregnancy. But emotionally? I hated being pregnant with Jacey Dae. I was glad to know that my body was supporting my child and that she was growing in there, but I didn’t like how I looked or how I felt. I was depressed through most of the pregnancy, but, having never been pregnant before, I thought it was just the normal hormones that go with pregnancy. And then I got pregnant with Rylan. I cannot say how much I loved that pregnancy. Oh, of course, there were mood swings. There were physical discomforts. But I loved knowing my son was growing and changing and thriving inside me. I loved feeling him move, even when got so big he could make me uncomfortable with those strong kicks. I just loved it.

Labor? So much easier with Jacey. Again, I was emotionally not in great shape, being very scared and still depressed, but I got the epidural before I ever started to hurt, and that was that. With Rylan, I was a little bit nervous, but still excited–even though I was in a lot of pain, even with the epidural, and throwing up and generally not physically feeling well.

Delivery? Well, on that one, Rylan was easier all around. Jacey Dae and the 2 1/2 hour pushing and bad 3rd degree tearing and all was not fun. Rylan and the 15 minutes and much more minor tearing was infinitely preferable. And that made recovery after his birth much better, too.

And that brings us to the first few months of mothering each child. Here, we have a huge difference. Everything is easier with Rylan, everything. First of all, obviously, I’ve done it before, so I know what to expect and how to handle everything. I could sleep more with Jacey, since I could nap in the day, but other than that, Rylan’s early months have been much easier on me. I love, love, love having a baby in the house. With Jacey, I thought I was a little depressed. Now that I’ve done it again, I know that, in reality, I was extremely depressed after her birth. I am so happy this time.

Which makes me think about love. I never wondered, like so many people say they do, how I could possibly love a second child as much as I love my first. I love Jacey wholeheartedly, more than I ever knew I could love anything, and I just knew I would love any other children I might have that much, too. But what surprised me after the fact was the way that love came about.

With Jacey, as scared and depressed and in pain as I was, I didn’t have an instant connection with her. I knew she was mine, and I knew I should love her, and I went through the motions of showing her that love so that she would feel loved, but I didn’t feel that upswelling emotion for her that I do now. That had to grow. I grew into loving her over time.

With Rylan, I found out I was pregnant, and I was in love. That huge, bubbling emotion. I met him, and I was still in love. I brought him home from the hospital, and I was still in love. He started to smile at me, and I was, yes, still in love.

So I wonder–which is more loving? Mothering when you feel that emotion–or when you don’t? I do what I do for Rylan because I love him, and I enjoy it. I did what I did for Jacey because I loved her, and she needed me to, but I certainly didn’t enjoy it in the beginning. With Rylan, mothering is for him and me. With Jacey, I mothered for her, in spite of myself.

I sometimes feel bad because I feel so much more love for Rylan than I did for Jacey. But, really, I think it takes more love to mother when you don’t feel that emotional love. So I loved my daughter, even through my depression–just in a different way than I love my son.

I don’t think your love for your children is quanitifiable. I don’t think I loved either child more. And I don’t think you can really compare how I did love each of them in the beginning of their lives, because it’s sort of apples to oranges.

But I think what I’m trying to say is–even though I’m enjoying being a mother now, and I’m probably a better mother because of that, you don’t have to feel emotion to love. I know I’m not the only mother who didn’t feel an immediate connection to her child, so to the other mothers out there who feel or felt like I did–don’t worry. It’s still love, to be a mother without emotion.

And, someday, if you’re like me, you’ll have that emotion. Mothering is love, whatever you feel. And then, the more you mother, the more you love. And that’s a cycle that all mothers–well, love.

Getting ready

It’s almost time. I can’t believe it. I’ll be 37 weeks pregnant on Thursday; the doctor told me last time I asked that we can induce between 38 and 39 weeks. I could only have ONE MORE WEEKEND as a mother to an only child.

Insane!

So I’ve been going crazy lately trying to get everything ready. Doing baby’s laundry, vacuuming and cleaning my carpets (I literally vacuumed my vacuum, too, in the process of getting it cleaned out so it would work well enough to get all the dog hair up before I ran the carpet cleaner–see? Crazy!), rearranging the linen closet to make room for baby and toddler and guests all at once, making room in our bedroom for the cradle and a changing station, cleaning the cradle after a couple of years in storage. Rylan’s room is mostly painted now–Kellen’s had to do it all because he says the fumes in such a small room are too strong for me to be in there–but all the furniture is still in the middle of the room. The crib and changing table need some repairs and repainting.

I went shopping today to get nursing pads, a nursing bra, a cheap book for the hospital bag (even though I didn’t read at all when I was in with Jacey; I just can’t go without one!), a tub of wipes to keep in our bedroom, and a few other things. It feels good to get stuff checked off my list, but my list still doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter! I plan to go shopping again tonight for boy-appropriate changing pad covers, a laundry hamper, a new non-poop-stained Boppy cover, and a few other baby things.

I’ve done so much in the last few weeks, but there’s still so much to do! When I look around and see the changing table sitting in the entryway covered with the laundry that still needs to be done and the cradle mattress sitting on the couch waiting for the laundry so it can go in the cradle and the boxes of diapers sitting on the ground waiting for a put-together room to go in, I think there’s no way I’m ready to have this baby. When I see teeny-tiny diapers already in the basket by the changing pad in our room and a clean carseat sitting by the door and an empty shelf in the linen closet waiting for freshly washed baby towels, I know I am ready.

And when Rylan tries to jump straight out of my body via my belly button, I KNOW I’m ready to have this baby.

Un-put-together house or not, nesting to accomplish or not, I’m ready for this baby. Jacey keeps asking to see Baby Rylan. When I told her we were going shopping today, she said, “Oh, for my baby?” (He is, by the way, her baby and hers alone; not Dada’s or Mimi’s or even Mama’s. Does this mean big sister will change all the dirty diapers??)

Rylan, anytime you’re ready to come out, come on. And if the house isn’t quite clean when you get home, and if your room doesn’t actually have your furniture in it yet, know that we still love you and are still ready for you. And that Mama might go crazy, bringing you home to an incomplete house, but she’s still happy to see you.

Doctor’s appointment on Wednesday. I’m going to ask for a date for induction. It’s coming soon!

Stuff to remember

This Christmas was really special, because it was the first one where Jacey had some idea of what was going on. Of course, Lord willing, I’ll have future Christmas that are firsts for my other children, but this one will, I think, always be extra special because it was my first kid’s first understood Christmas.

I know I’ll never remember the details of this first Christmas. I know that, even looking back and seeing what I write here, I’ll only have a vague idea of the tone of voice Jacey got as she said these things and the look in her eyes as she saw these things for the first time. It will turn into a memory of a memory, rather than the solid vision I have of it now. It will turn into a memory of a very happy time; all these little things will fade into a blur of first-Christmas-perfectness.

But here are the things I wish I could always see and hear as I do now, just weeks after Christmas is over.

The excitement in her voice and the sweet, un-enunciated way she says, “Meh-meh dee!” “Meh-meh digh!” “Meh-meh bee!” and “Deh-deh daws!” every time she sees a Christmas tree, Christmas lights, a Christmas wreath, or Santa Claus. And the way that each one of those phrases is stressed strongly on the first syllable and extra-strong and stretched out on the third syllable, showing her wonder all the more.

The way she refuses to call Santa Claus just “Santa,” and if I read a book that mentions “Santa,” she immediately corrects me, “Deh-deh DAWS.”

The way she didn’t even see the presents Santa brought her this year until we shoved her towards them, and then was content to play with the first one she picked up rather than dig through them all and see what she got.

How she enjoyed passing out gifts more than opening them, and when she did open one, she was more interested in ripping the paper off the next one than checking out what she had just opened.

The utter surprise with which she encountered every set of Christmas lights, every Christmas tree, and every picture of Santa Claus she saw, wherever they were, even just on television. Close up or far away, in real life or on a commercial, each and every one made her eyes light up and she’d gasp and point, absolutely thrilled.

The proprietary joy with which she regarded our Christmas tree, knowing she helped decorate it.

Her careful way of telling everybody which present under the tree belonged to whom (and she remembered, too, from day to day which ones they were and where they were in the pile) and that they couldn’t be opened until Christmas. “Can I open it now?” Gramps would ask. Solemnly, Jacey would reply, “No. Meh-meh.” And, worried, she’d take the present away from him and put it under the tree, lest he tear into it too early.

The pure joy of watching her buy her first Christmas present for someone else. I took her to the dollar store, and she purposely picked up toys, a puzzle, a flashlight, decorative things, saying, “Dada,” as decisively as only a two-year-old can, and put it in the cart for him. All for him. Convinced he needed and would love whatever little thing she held.

How Christmas still isn’t over, even though it was weeks ago. How even the old decorations that should have been put away or taken down still inspire absolute delight, and the Christmas books sitting in a pile waiting to be put away are still her favorites to read.

Christmas will always be fun. My kids will always be excited about Christmas. I’ll always, secretly, be just as thrilled as they are, even if I try to be mature about it. But these things? These things will only happen this way, with this first-time light in my daughter’s eyes, this Christmas when she’s two, and Santa Claus is exciting to think about but still a little bit scary in person. It’s all fun and new and a little bit confusing and unknown, but still just what she wants.

It was the best Christmas ever.

Making memories

And now, back to the previously-schedule programming of catching up on pre-Christmas posts.

I have been making a conscious effort, ever since I really started to feel pregnant, to make some mommy-and-me memories with Jacey Dae. She’s only going to be an only child this once in her life, and she has no idea, poor baby, of how her life is about to change. Even though she probably won’t remember, when she’s all grown up, that there was a time that she and mommy went to the donut shop for breakfast in their pj’s one time when she was two, I will. I’ll tell her. And I’m hoping that it’ll make her feel really loved in days to come when mommy is always busy with someone new.

So the two of us have gone out for breakfast in our pj’s, and I’ve taken her to one-on-one lunches at Chick-fil-A (WAY easier to do in the summer, when preschool and Ladies Bible Class don’t meet), and we’ve gone on impromptu walks with her baby dolls in a stroller.

(That was on January 5. Apparently, spring has sprung nice and early this year. And, yes, she picked out her own outfit.)

The biggest thing I’ve yet done with just the two of us was my birthday trip to the zoo. I already mentioned this in my birthday post, but here are a few pictures and more details…

The first thing we saw when we got there was a zookeeper feeding some big antelope-like things. Elund? Is that animal? Something like that. Anyway, Jacey was fascinated.

They ate carrots and lettuce and leaves, and it was just hilarious that they ate leaves. And dropped them all over the floor and made a mess, but there was no Patch and Shelly to clean up after them. It’s amazing to me how Jacey’s starting to have real conversations with us!

We got to watch the daddies eat, then the mamas and babies (who were being kept apart for some reason but I can’t remember why), and when they were done she started begging for the giraffes.

So off we went.

We had brought Gerry Giraffe with us, and she showed him the big giraffes. Then, of course, got distracted by the carousel, and the giraffes lost all power over her as she decided she’d much rather go ride the carousel.

We settled down on a quilt in the grass within sight of both the giraffes and the carousel and shared our picnic lunch, and then I let her ride the carousel one time. After that, she insisted on pulling the wagon herself, and what fun that was!

She did not appreciate when I helped her push or pull the wagon over inclines and bridges, but she pulled the wagon around the corner to the children’s zoo all by herself. We looked at the farm animals and she played on the playground there for a good long time, and then I insisted on going through the new African forest exhibit before we went home. Which, okay, wasn’t the best of memories because by this point we’d missed naptime by a long shot, and Jacey was begging to go home every moment that we weren’t actually viewing an animal, but we still made it through the new exhibit before we made our way to the very front of the property and headed home.

Despite all the traffic and the lack of a nap, we had a good time. It’s definitely a memory I’ll keep for a long time, and I plan to do it at least once more before the baby comes. Then, whether or not I can manage a mommy-only trip to the zoo after I have two kids to watch out for… well, we’ll see.

Until then, I have these memories of being a mother to an only child. And they are good.

Yesterday

Yesterday was crazy busy, so I didn’t get around to blogging. But here’s what I wanted to say yesterday:

It was the first day back to preschool after Christmas break. On Wednesday, Jacey slept past 11. 11! So when I went in to wake her up at 8 on Thursday morning, she didn’t move as I flipped on the hall light. I opened her curtains, accidently knocking the lampshade noisily askew. She didn’t move. I fought with the side of her crib to get it down (it was stuck on the bed skirt, I think), and she still didn’t move. I uncovered her and touched her back, and she leapt to her feet. “Mama, shirt!” she said, pointing at my Yellow Brick Road shirt. “School!” And that was how she woke up. She was SO excited to get back to school. She wore big girl panties and didn’t even have an accident until naptime, right before we go home, and even then I think if both teachers had been there they would’ve caught her in time but Ms. Natalie was at the doctor and I think Ms. Wanda was a little overwhelmed.

I enjoyed getting back to school, but it was the craziest day I’ve had yet. I wasn’t really prepared to come back, plus we had two new students in our classroom, and this was my first day in a month that I had to be on my feet and going going going for hours on end, and I’m very pregnant. I was about dead by the end of the day, and then I got to go home and teach flute lessons!

I was 30 weeks pregnant yesterday. 10 weeks to go!

And, finally, the main reason I wanted to blog yesterday: it was Kellen’s and my 4-year anniversary. 4 years of marriage, and, if you didn’t already know, we got married on the 6th anniversary of when he asked me out, so it was also the 10th anniversary of when we got together. Usually, I don’t think about that anniversary. I mean, yes, the 6 years of dating was important and all that, but once you’re married, that’s kind of the only anniversary that matters anymore, right? But somehow, yesterday’s anniversary was doubly important. 4 years married AND 10 years together. 10 years… a decade. Out of my 26 years, that’s a pretty big portion of my life! I’m so blessed to have found my husband so early, and to have all these years to look back on and build on even though it’s still relatively early in our marriage.

Our big anniversary date? Well, with a wife who is 30 weeks pregnant, exhausted from her first day back to teaching preschool PLUS flute lessons, sick with a cold or allergies, and oh yes anemic on top of all that, it was pretty exciting; let me tell you. We had my parents baby-sit while we went to The Olive Garden for dinner, then headed to a movie. When I sneezed four times while waiting for the light to turn green so we could turn into the theater, we decided to skip the movie until I’m feeling better, so we went to the mall and spent a newly-acquired gift card at Books-a-Million. Then we came home and watched tv while I hinted that Kellen should go out and get us some ice cream, and that didn’t work so finally I told him outright he had missed out on the hints, and so he went to Marble Slab and brought home some treats for us. Definitely a thrilling night.

But an anniversary isn’t about the day, it’s about the years leading up to the day. I spent yesterday thinking, “4 years ago right NOW I was…” getting my hair done, freaking out because I wasn’t packed for the honeymoon yet, eating lunch provided by Natalie’s mama and grandma, getting my makeup with my roommate sitting in my lap… And then, of course, getting pictures taken, sitting in the church nursery, standing in the foyer with my daddy right before going down the aisle, giggling through my vows, celebrating in the foyer afterwards completely unaware that the whole bridal party was there with Kellen and me, standing in the accidental receiving line while so many people came up to share their love and congratulations with us. Heading to my parents’ house so I could finish packing for the honeymoon (sorry, honey… I still feel silly that I hadn’t done that earlier than the day before the wedding so we could’ve just left the church and headed to Galveston), getting pulled over by the mean cop (who surely pulled us over just because he saw the painted-up truck and my veil) just because a tail light was out, finally finishing up packing and heading to Galveston, and for the first time as I realized I was headed on vacation with nobody but Kellen I knew I was married.

I have so many memories of that day, so many vivid memories. And I wish I could remember more! The day my daughter was born was an amazing day in my life, one of the most important–but it never would’ve happened without that one special day four years ago when I went from Miss to Mrs., from child to woman at 22 years of age. The day that marked the beginning of independence and growing up, but also the start of the giggliest period of my life, when I laughed all through declaring my commitment to this man, chuckled as I changed my Facebook status to “married,” and giggled uncontrollably as I talked to people on our honeymoon about “my husband.” It was, I think, the most carefree joy I’ve ever felt.

Our marriage has been, really, an easy one. There’s not much I would change about our relationship over the past 4 or even 10 years, and even the rough patches (usually due to my own insecurities!) have been good to go through together, making us grow in our relationship with each other.

Marriage has been just what I expected it would be, and I knew Kellen and I would grow and change after we said “I do.” We have, and I think I can say I am a better person now than I was just over 4 years ago. Having another side to my family, being the woman of my own house and mother in my own family, and, most of all, living every day side-by-side with my husband, this man I admire and love so much, has shown me how to love and how to show that love.

Four years is just the beginning of our lifetime together. And what a good beginning it’s been.

Kellen, I love you. You have lead me through these last four years like nobody else could, and the last ten years as we have discovered what it is to be “Kellen and Lela” instead of just ourselves have been just what I needed to become who I am. I am so looking forward to learning and growing more with you in the next ten years… and even just in the next four.

Happy birthday to me

Well, I’m officially old. Until tomorrow.

See, my birthday was Friday. Kellen’s is Monday. Being that he’s a year older than me, I always get to call him old. He tries to claim that I can’t call him old for the three days that we’re the same age, but I have decided that, rather than concede that he’s not old, I’ll just be old for those three days, too.

(Incidentally, I’m 26. Not so old, I know, but he will ALWAYS be older than me!)

My birthday started at midnight. (Of course.) We stayed up past midnight on the 16th–I don’t even remember why anymore, we’ve been so busy lately–so Kellen gave me my birthday present before we went to bed. He got me some very pretty earrings. The next morning, he woke me up with his customary good-morning-good-bye kiss before he goes to work, saying, “Happy birthday!” After that, Jacey chose to sleep in until 9:45, so I got to sleep in until 9:00 and then have some quiet time before she got up! What a nice start to the day. Gramps called around the time Jacey was waking up and offered to bring over breakfast, so I got kolaches for breakfast, too!

Late in the morning, with nothing much to do, I decided we’d make use of the zoo membership Mimi and Gramps bought in October and head to the zoo. So I packed up a lunch, lugged the wagon into the back of the van (that’s fun to do while pregnant, let me tell you), finally got Jacey dressed in her Christmas shirt, Christmas socks, and Christmas bow, and got us into the car. It took forever to get ready for such a big trip all by myself! I didn’t tell her where we were going, either, so it would be a surprise–which meant Jacey had absolutely no urgency about getting ready to go. I was a little stressed by the time we left.

I was shocked at how much traffic was on the roads in the middle of the day. I hate 610.

We eventually made it to the zoo, though, and we had a great time! Just Mama and Jacey. We watched some big antelope-gazelle-like things eat lunch, and Jacey would have stayed there all day, watching the zoo keeper hand-feeding them lettuce and carrots. But what she was most excited about, since they were put away when we were last there, was the giraffes. They were out in force this time, and thank goodness! She showed them to her little stuffed animal, Gerry Giraffe, then promptly got distracted because the giraffes are right next to the carousel.

We rode the carousel, played in the children’s zoo, and got to explore the new African Forest which just opened. It’s very Disney-esque, with a story throughout the new exhibits and hidden creatures to find along the pathway. The chimpanzee exhibit is so big we could hardly see the chimps; they were all at the back behind the trees. They seemed happy, though.

By the time we were done with the African Forest, it was so very far past naptime. So we headed home, and I didn’t mind the traffic so much (even though it was rush hour–bad planning there, Mama!) because Jacey slept through all of it and I got some nice peace and quiet.

When we got home, I was desperate for a bathroom. The baby likes my bladder a little too much! So I had Kellen come out and sit with the still-sleeping Jacey in the van while I literally ran inside. He decided to let her sleep a little longer, so I stayed inside to wrap some presents, and, after a few minutes, heard them come inside. “Can you come here?” he asked. “She’s really sleepy… she’s a little out of it.” Not sure why that meant he needed me, I went to meet them in the entryway….

and ran into Sarah and Ryan, two of our good friends who moved to San Antonio 6 months ago and who we haven’t seen since they left!

I was so surprised. And so excited! I’ve really been missing them, and really wanted to go to SA to see them, but the last few months have been so stinkin’ busy we haven’t been able to go. Oh–this was, by the way, the second time in a week and a half that Kellen completely surprised me. More about that in a later post.

We all headed out to dinner with my parents at Red Lobster, then we went to our friend Natalie’s new house for a game night with our group of friends from church. Nobody but Kellen and my parents knew that Sarah and Ryan were coming into town, so they surprised everyone else, too. We had cake and played Apples to Apples (and even though I said the game wouldn’t be over til the birthday girl won, Sarah trounced all of us) and then headed home. Once Jacey was asleep, the adults stayed up until 2 am talking and catching up. I am far too old and/or pregnant to stay up so late now, but it was so good to talk to old friends again! And at least everybody (even Jacey) slept in the next morning, so we still got some sleep.

And that was my birthday! 26. When I think about the number, I realize how young I am to have two kids (even if one is still inside me) and a house and the life that I have, and I know I’m blessed. I never wanted to live my life differently–never desired a time when I could live in a bustling city or work at a real career or be in a fancy apartment all by myself. I know the choices Kellen and I have made have led us to this point in our lives long before other people get here–this point where our lives belong to our children, and we have very little flexibility because of it, and we never seem to have quite enough money. But I wouldn’t trade this life I have at 26 for any other life. I’m excited for the years to come–but I’m so happy with where I am right now, this year.

And that, I think, makes it happy birthday, indeed.

Motherhood

Lately, I’ve been really proud of the mother I’ve become.

Looking back over the last almost-two years, I’ve come a long way. From the beginning, I held to the same tenants I still do–don’t freak out when the baby cries because then she’ll freak out, too; let her learn for herself; bumps and bruises happen; kiss until her cheeks are calloused.

I’ll be honest: in the very beginning, the first few months of her life, I kind of forced myself to do the lovey-dovey thing with Jacey Dae. I was hurting, physically and emotionally, as my body and my hormones healed from giving birth. I remember consciously thinking, “I’m going to kiss her now, because I know I’m going to want to look back and remember that I did this.” And I was right–I am so glad I did that.

It was the beginning of motherhood—putting my daughter first, no matter what.

As time went on, of course, the kisses and I-love-yous and holding-for-no-reason-at-alls happened with no forethought and with pure joy. But there were still far too many times that I let my own tiredness and impatience get in the way of good parenting, and I snapped at Jacey or tried to get her to play by herself more than just occasionally.

These things don’t make me proud. It’s hard to write. But it’s important to know in order to understand how far I’ve come.

I’m enjoying motherhood lately. Coloring and doing puzzles with my one-year-old. I used to do the same things, of course, but not as often and definitely with less joy. In fact, I’m not sure my outward actions have changed, just my attitude. I’m savoring the moment more, paying more attention to my daughter as she grows up.

I spend my days now smiling a lot more. I still have my moments, for sure, when I get overloaded and need her to stop hanging on me; life isn’t all rainbows and roses. But the rainbow moments are brighter somehow.

I used to think it was cute when she caught me emptying the dishwasher and “helped.” Now, I specifically call her in when I’m doing that chore, rather than trying to scramble to do it while she’s busy–and suddenly it’s not such a chore.

In the past, I wouldn’t fold laundry if I was home alone with Jacey, because she’s likely to pick up the folded stuff and toss it back in the basket. Lately, when she holds a shirt against her chest and stretches her mouth wide open to put her chin on her chest, and assumes that means what she’s holding is folded, I wonder why I used to stress over the unfolding.

The old me went out to escape the repetitiveness of staying at home all day with just my baby. The new me goes out to enjoy other adults’ company–but to watch Jacey’s reaction to the outside world and all its facets.

I can’t list all the ways my mothering has changed in the past couple of months. Some of it is completely intangible, unlistable. But I know I’m so thankful that it’s happened.

Because the rainbows and roses are my favorite part.

A mystery for you

Lately, whenever I go get Jacey Dae out of her bed, she won’t get out until she grabes Eeyore.  (He still doesn’t have a tail, but she loves him anyway.)  She falls asleep hugging him and gets out of bed hugging him.  He’s becoming pretty important to her.

Yesterday morning, she brought him to the kitchen, where she dropped him by the refrigerator while I poured her cup of a milk.  He stayed there.

A while later, Jacey was playing in the kitchen by herself.  I had peeked at her- she was playing behind the curtains, near the dog door.  She made occasional noises, so I knew she wasn’t going outside, and I left her to entertain herself.  Suddenly, I heard a cry.  It wasn’t a hurt cry, it was just a short, mad, “Argh!” sort of cry.  So I left her alone to work through the frustration herself, and she did, and everybody was happy again.

A couple of hours after that, we were getting ready to go shopping.  When I started looking for Eeyore to bring with us, I couldn’t find him anywhere!  Until I looked outside.  He was laying on the patio, directly in front of the dog door, about three feet away from it.

So here’s the mystery.

Did Shelly, at some point in the morning, go in the kitchen, find the stuffed animal, and think, “Oh, YES!  I’ve been waiting for them to leave this thing alone for weeks now!  I loved ripping off that tail; ears, watch out!”  Then did she grab Eeyore and bound out the dog door with him- whereupon she stopped short, remembering in terror how I acted when I came in and found Eeyore’s tail laying next to his body, drop the donkey like a hot potato, and run away, not to touch him again?

Or did Jacey do it?  Did she go in the kitchen, find Eeyore, and hug him with a grin, and then go sit down to play at the dog door?  Once there, did she push her hand outside the door, and then think, “Hmmm….”  Did poor Eeyore get grabbed up and shoved against the dog door until he finally hit the flap, then get dropped unceremoniously outside?  Later, as Shelly was going out the door, did she kick the stuffed animal until he was out of the way of her only way inside and out?

So what do you think?  Who’s the culprit?

Or did Eeyore, in a Toy Story-esque move, come alive and frolic outside all by himself?

Because that would be cool.