Category Archives: life with toddler
This afternoon I snuck into her bed in time to watch her wake up from a nap, with a giggle in a dream. “Mommy, I thought you were here.” Read a tall stack of books from the dresser before we got up. Strung beads into bracelets and checked them glowing in the dark of her closet. Wore pajamas and dress up clothes out to pick up drive through dinner. Splurged on happy meals. Did an exercise video together. Giggled. Read haikus we memorized and recited in our best poetry voices before going to bed.
A tree can’t reach
for a glass
A: Daddy, can you go downstairs and cook lunch?
Mommy: He is cooking.
A: No he’s not. He’s not stirring.
I’m gonna draw everything I love in my imagination.
Audrey: What are you doing?
Mommy: Fussing at Lucy.
Audrey: Oh. I’m just gonna fuss at these leaves. No leaves, no. Don’t bother me.
(recent conversation on a stroll with Lucy)
Mommy: 1, 2, buckle my shoe. 3, 4, shut the…
Mommy: 5, 6, pick up…
Mommy: 7, 8, don’t be…
Mommy: 9, 10, a big fat…
Sometimes you don’t remember something and then out of nowhere a memory comes back. It happens a lot with Audrey. I get to watch her childhood unfold and sort of relive my own in a sense. Seeing my little girl, legs sticking out from under the full racks, laughing as she instinctively discovers the fun to be had hiding amongst the clothes. That boring store your parents dragged you to becoming a far away land full of hid-aways and mystery.
And just like that, there they are, the memories of my own, flooding right back with vivid detail. Childhood and all its unbridled happiness. It’s a full circle. It’s the best thing I’ve ever known.
Today was rainy. It was fitting. If it had been a sunny day it would’ve gotten on my nerves. Two throw ups and a poop in the tub before 10am equal a stay in kind of day. Rain. Today. Perfect match.
life was back tummies were back to normal around here, but the rain was still nice. What better thing to do when it’s raining than listen to music and do a little dancing “tam-breen” making. We meant to dance, but the tambourines were a big hit. For all 3 of us.
Ryan Adams on shuffle is my soundtrack; if I had to have a soundtrack. He is my longest relationship. I joke with Mark about it. If we ever have a boy don’t be shocked people, he may be a Ryan.
Today during nap time I chose productivity over my own napping. I’m thankful. A straightened house feels like a good hair cut or dollar you just found in your winter coat. A complete attitude changer. An attitude adjustment.
Maybe my father’s “attitude adjustments” from my childhood were his lesson on self-soothing. This is gonna be a whole conversation with Jana, I can feel it.
Speaking of Jana, sometimes I wish we could record our conversations. Strictly due to our profound wisdom that surfaces during the hashing and rehashing of life and motherhood. If only I could remember or write everything I want to down. Today’s reminder though is for the me when Audrey is my age: encourage and acknowledge. It goes a long way. (We should all do a little more, at 30 and 60, let’s be realistic.)
Something I did write down today: “Dear God, Thank you for my butterfly spoon. Catch! (as she is making if fly away) Thank you for my macaroni and cheese. AAAAAmen.” -Audrey (God doesn’t mind distracted from a 2 year old I’m pretty sure)
Mark took Audrey to Rose’s. Another thing that goes a long way. Alone time. Even if it’s 20 minutes.
A short list of happy things: a strawberry with the long stem still attached, Audrey telling her friend Virginia that she loves her, the simplicity of age 2, strands of white Christmas lights all year, listening to Audrey talk to my mom on the phone, Collin and Aron Smith, dreams coming true that are as simple as having my girl beside me drawing while I’m making something or an afternoon where we make tambourines all together, the arrangement of stuff on a coffee table, finding a tiny toy behind the door when I vacuum, the times I feel confident in my parenting, Audrey’s ponytail, the rain sound
In a whole different thought, today was a lose lose. It has my heart hurting. My head full. And my mouth unable to articulate anything more than that simple expression. A lose lose.