My Longest Year

baby book: 3 months

 

Three months.  Wow.  In some ways, it's hard to believe so many weeks have passed.  And then again, it seems like a million years since we've all felt rested.  It's true what they say; every child really is different.  At this stage, my firstborn was sleeping from 10:30 p.m. to 7:30 a.m. without interruption, and her naps were long and frequent.  Our newest little bundle - not so much.  Every nap is accompanied by a few hail marys that she'll actually fall asleep.  And when she does drift off, the time is spent nervously glancing at the clock every fifteen minutes wondering how long she'll stay asleep.  Whatever it is you're about to suggest, I'm sure I've tried it.  And here is what I've come to:  I'm accepting that she is her own little person, with her own temperment and needs.  And as long as she is, in fact, getting sleep, my time would be better spent managing my expectations than managing her sleep schedule.

She has a sweet spirit, serious expression, and she's discovering her voice.  She finds Evyn fascinating, and loves to watch her dance.  Patty-cake and Little Piggy are favorite games and she doesn't care if her face gets wet in the bath (Evyn has hated water above the shoulders since birth).  Most people don't think she looks more like me or my husband; instead they think she looks most like Big Sister.  I agree.  Now if she'd only sleep like her Big Sister... ;)   

merry christmas, courtesy a three year old

Well, that's one way to use fabric scraps, I suppose.  MERRY CHRISTMAS!

little sister

No, not yet.  This isn't THE post.  But any day now.  Or any minute.  And I think I'm ready. I wince as I say that because they sound like famous last words.

My To Do list has gotten a bit shorter.  I have my Babywise in hand. The miscellany catch-all basket with breast pump and burp cloths is next to my bed.  A freshly laundered blanket and bumper handmade by my mom is tucked into the cradle Grandpa made for my little sister years ago.  Now bring on the chaos.

A little sister.  I wonder if Evyn understands what's about to happen.  If only she could get as excited as I am about the gift she's about to receive.  Her little sister.  No one else can say that.  I've been trying to prepare her.  We've read baby sister books, including this charming one by Tomie dePaola that I bought from a library sale.  And when we visited the pumpkin patch I helped her pick out Big Sister and Little Sister.

She knows there's a baby in the tummy.  She knows the term "little sister."  But I guess the rest she'll just have to experience and discover for herself.  The sharing.  The fighting and hair-pulling and arguing for space in the bathroom.  The loving and hating and and jealousy and protectiveness.

Like all relationships, I know theirs will be unique - different than what I shared with Lora.  But I hope in some ways its the same.  I hope theirs is a refuge.  A sense of belonging to each other like they belong to no one else, and a comfort that someone else is in the same boat when things get hectic around here.

This summer we found a picture of Lora in a bright, tacky frame that only Lora herself would have picked out.  A hot pink vinyl flower shape that made me smile.  She was in her high school cap and gown.  Exactly one year before she died. Evyn made the same mistake everyone else does when they see Lora's picture.  "It's Mommy!" she said.  I explained it was her Aunt Lora.  And that "mommy had a little sister once, too."  Which made me choke to say.  I used to wince when I heard those words - little sister.  It was painful to run across them in gift shops and book stores and even sometimes in conversation when friends would relate their own sister stories. But over the last few months, I've quit wincing and started embracing those words for the serendipitous little miracle they are about to become.  I love hearing E.'s three-year-old voice tell everyone "little sister" is in her mommy's tummy with such pride.  I know that pride myself. 

Eighteen years was short by my economy, but long enough in God's measurement.  And though I'm sure being a sister doesn't make me an expert at raising sisters, I have eighteen years of memories in my heart's bank to share and draw from. That's a pretty cool blessing.  Lora would think so, too.

    

just you and me, kid

Today she sat on my lap, careful not to lean back on "mommy's tummy" while we watched a program.  It was actually one of my programs - a kitchen show.  And she didn't mind watching it with me because it meant being with me.  That's why I love this kid.  She's taken to enjoying whatever I do, joining me in my world.  Over the past three years we've created so many rituals, depending on the season of our life.  Coffee and the train table at Barnes N Noble.  Rifling through the trinket shelves at the thrift store.  Dollar popcorn and pop at Target - long, lingering hugs around my big tummy from her seat in the shopping cart while we peruse the aisles.   She gets a "pink" (soy raspberry italian soda) when I get my mocha at the coffee shop.  She twirls my hair when she sneaks into bed on Saturday mornings. And now she's even able to watch me sew and create, careful not to step on my work and waiting patiently for the fabric scraps so she can adorn me with them.  Everyone tells me I have the best kid, because she's incredibly capable (almost too capable, these days), a great all-day window-shopper, obedient, and self-directed.  She's skilled, and chatty, witty, and loving and super duper imaginative (mine is the kid who actually does talk to the wall).  The deployment was a struggle, but in many ways it was a blessing.  We had an incredible bonding period, and I found a lot of strength as a mom that I didn't know I had.  I shed the labels I had taken on - Impatient, Bossy, Loud, Not Nurturing - and realized that I could be an amazing mom.  I failed her many times during the deployment.  And then asked God for forgiveness and continued to be a great mom.  Which I didn't really, truly realize I could be until I was an only parent for a year.

And now another little one is about to join us.  And I don't know what to think.  The two of us are about to be the three of us (I'm speaking in stay-at-home mom terms, of course - she's also very much a Daddy's Girl).  For three years I have spent my work days as "Me and E,"  Mommy and Super-Tot.  I know my heart will grow to make room for the two of them and I will love them equally and differently.  But as the days to #2 creep closer, I am feeling so many things, and one of them is the loss you feel as you enter a new chapter in life.  Everyone talks about the excitement of the next stage - be it college or marriage or a new baby.  I get that.  But I've always been one who needs to pause to let go of the existing chapter in order to embrace the next biggest, best season of my life.

So here it is.  A big, grateful, bittersweet sigh as I pause to remember our days as the Two of Us and a somewhat giddy smile as I await being the Three of Us.

ps.  the above slide show will eventually stop and ask you for your email.  just ignore it.

where does the time go?

it takes a village

Tuesday my friend Lacey painted her toenails.  Thursday, Emily helped her learn to eat squeeze-yogurt.  And for the past year and a half, Sarah and Scottie have been like aunt and uncle to her.  Maybe it's luck that such a compatible couple moved in next door a year and a half ago.  I think it's a blessing.  Children are meant to be raised with family.  Lots of it.  Yet, as a military family, we never lived in the same town as family and close friends.  Sarah and Scottie have been extended family. They've made her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, showed her how to treat puppies, and they know her bedtime routine as well as J. and I - down to the prayer we recite to her every night.  They even have a few rituals of their own.

So today, watching E. play "airplanes" (Scottie is an Airforce pilot) and garden with Sarah was bittersweet.  Sarah has been on the verge of tears all day.  So have I.  It's been special living next door to them.

We'll miss you.

(on Sarah & Scottie's doorstep)

happiness is...a bubble machine

$10 at Toys R Us and you've got yourself a way to keep kiddo entertained and help them get exercise.  A smart mom brought a larger version of this to the park the other day - every kid in the park was running around giggling.  I looked for this one and couldn't find it, so I settled for this one.  Sure beats fishing for the wand, scraping your fingers and huffing and puffing every bit of breath as little one shouts "More, Mommy!' over and over. 

look at you, girl

A few months ago I panicked.  E. was getting bigger.  And bigger.  Everyday.  She just wouldn't stop growing already.  And I realized she wasn't my baby anymore.  So I did what any rational person would do: I hired a photographer to come out and capture her little features before she grew out of it all.

If you live in Washington state, I highly recommend Abie Wolfe Photography.  She was awesomely patient, and I love her work.  And anyone who knows how freak-control-ish I am about photography and anything artistic can appreciate that this woman was patient.

Climbing down from the bed is serious work (I love her serious faces): 

I love how her feet get twitchy when she's happy, as she was here reading aloud:

I love her little cheeks and eyelashes (I'm so jealous of her long lashes):

Twirling her hair - an "I'm tired" tell.

I have been wanting a formal portrait of her for a while now.  All it took was a little zoning out to a Dora video on portable dvd player and we got several like this:

a mini swap

Remember Bird Week?  That sweet tweet was handmade by our mini-apron swap friend Shanna at Pink Trees.

Let me back up for a second.  I could tell from the minute the swap package arrived that I should be prepared to feel inadequate in my own swapping abilities (notice the hand-illustrated label):

It's almost like Shanna knew E.  E. immediately started using the crayons and doodle pad she had packed:

And I couldn't believe how many little surprises were in store for her - a silverware roll, recipe book, purse - all matching her apron! 

E. is a wiggler so it was difficult to get good pictures of everything - especially the apron itself.  But it was obvious by how frequently she shouted "princess!" and "open this, Mommy!" that she truly loved everything.

She paid such attention to detail...notice that the bird softie is patterned after the fabric...

I sincerely admired everything - the apron was especially beautiful.  But one of my fave pieces of the day turned out to be the headband (pattern here):

And because she looked so cute in it, I took a ba-million pics of her in it:

Thank you so much for sharing your time and talent with us, Shanna!

a reader's choice day

In an effort to distract myself for a bit, I took your suggestions and made plans for the day.  I had been meaning to take E. to the Hands-On Children's Museum, so it was a perfect start.  We enjoyed the boat and water table, the lentil table, the mini-kitchen, and the garden, where E. harvested carrots and cucumbers:

Then off to Walmart to pick up grass seed to spot-repair the lawn and (per Nik) start E.'s own little grass garden. We got creative with the watering can sippy cup:

Charlotte's suggestion of pancakes sounded good, so I fixed breakfast for dinner.  Which leads me to a couple of suggestions and a quick recipe for you:

Pancakes:  I always use Bisquick; it's just easier.  I halved the box recipe, added vanilla extract, and made them entirely no-mess by layering all the ingredients in a single large measuring cup and mixing well - 1 c. Bisquick, then add 1 c. milk, and an egg.  They were easy to pour this way, too.

My mom's potatoes and eggs:  cut a medium-sized red potato into cubes (you can use any potato, but this has good flavor and browns well) and brown in a skillet with olive oil over medium high heat.  Once brown, add 4-6 eggs and scramble.

Serve with tortillas.  This is how I grew up eating eggs (just like my Grandpa Hernandez):  If you have a gas oven, heat your tortillas directly over a medium flame for a few seconds (toss the tortilla over the burner slightly off-center so you can pick it up and flip it easily).  Tortillas taste so much better heated up this way, but you can nuke them for 15 seconds instead.  Use pieces of your tortilla to pick up your eggs (crude, but yummy). E. demonstrates:

After dinner, we all cleaned up together (J. always helps with dishes and E. is learning to dry and put away silverware).  Then we rested on the couch with an episode of Little House on the Prairie.   It was a good day.  I hope to have more of them as we go through this process.  I hope you'll have patience with me if I get melancholy at times.  All change is difficult, but this is especially hard for me.