Blue Skies and Green Fields

We always start off with good intent.

"Let's do something new this weekend! My friend does equestrian stuff, let's take the girls to go watch," Matt said.

The day was beautiful, the weather perfect.

What we fell a little short on though was behavior. Oh my goodness are we going through a phase. And apparently, horses don't like phases. Who knew? I thought we would be outside in a big grassy field with lots of sunshine and fresh air and space for the girls to exhaust themselves.

The folks who participate in these things though had other ideas. No loud noises, no sudden moves, nothing that might spook a tense horse and its owner...... Which, in hindsight makes sense, but at the time. Ugh. It was not quite the day we'd had in mind.

On the other hand, now we an say that we've been.
And in a few more years, it would be a lovely afternoon. 

Except for when the girls start asking about horse back riding lessons.

Up Where the Air is Clear

Clare has been walking for a week now.

One whole week. Only one week. It's like she came out of the womb toddling along.

It's how this kid does everything though. We she crawled, she crawled. There was little wiggle-worm shimmying involved. Same with her steps. Although I take that back, she's been cruising for months. But always with a death grip on something like the Earth would swallow her whole if she let go.

Clare with her boa(constrictor) boa

Last weekend (while I was away) she finally let go. And hasn't looked back.

One

Things you MUST know about Clare on her 1st Birthday:

1- The girl loves the wind on her face and in her hair. Promising spring breezes to fridgid winter gusts, it is all the same to her. Her eyes sparkle with smile and her chin always lifts to greet it.

2- She likes to ride in the shopping cart like she’s backing down a driveway. You know that position. Body half twisted, arm up on the seat, head looking backwards. She wants to see where she’s going, not where she’s been.

3- Clare hugs with her whole body. I swear, sometimes think that if I let go, she would stay fastened around my neck. Bumped heads, teething, stolen toys- all can be fixed with a strong hug.

4- She loves her sister fiercely. (As Grace does her) Already they sit close, pressing foreheads together, whisper nonsense words and giggle for the fun of the nonsense. It makes my heart so happy.

Happy Birthday to my little girl- our lives are so much richer with you in them!

One Thousand Ninty-Five Days

It’s 4:47 PM. You are officially 3 years old.

Have I ever told you how much I wanted you? How much I desperately wanted you? How much I needed to have you with every cell in my body?

You name is not meant to be religious. Grace as an action, not a state of being. I meant it as beauty and light and movement. You know what though? You are my grace, my gift from God. You are my proof that He exists.

You run through this world now with such confidence and speed. You take death-defying leaps off furniture and climb nerve-racking heights up ladders. You know the world is yours for the taking, with the wide eyes and unfettered dreams of a child to make it happen.

You are 3 years old. Still in need of my snuggles and help with juice cups, but no longer my baby.

Strong and polite. Mischievous and independent. Proud and beautiful.

Perfect in every way.

Happy Birthday my Love!

The Cut

Grace is 2 years, 10 months and 3 days old today. It is a monumental day. Her golden locks have fallen.

Gracie was essential bald until she as 1 year old. She didn't have hair long enough for pig tails until she was 2. There was never really any reason to bring out the scissors. Lately though, her hair has become a bit unruley. It looked a little bit like a overgrown mullet.

So I pulled out the bribes- Dum Dum lollipops. (that I *aquired* at a bank that doesn't hold one cent of my money. But my friends pennies pass through their door so I felt intitled)

We started slow. A lollipop for a trim of the bangs. I asked her if she wanted to cut all her hairs (as I do almost daily now) and she said no. Until that lollipop was gone. She wanted another one. How does a toddler aquire more candy? By sucumbing to parental pressure. Sure Mama, you can cut my hair if I can have more candy.

And so it was. I hesitated only for a second. I brushed her hair straight and steadied by hand.

Snip.

The deed was done. We were committed.

And I started to cry, but finished the job.

Bye-bye baby curls.

Through Her Eyes

Mother's Day was a week late at daycare this year.

I was undecided as to whether I should attend with Clare (lots of germy, grabby hands in a two year old classroom), but I didn't want Grace to be disappointed that I didn't come. In the end she probably wouldn't have noticed- in a class of 12 kids only 2 other mom's came- but I guess I didn't want to be disappointed that I missed it either.

And I wasn't.

We made dragonfly clothespin magnets. (Somewhere during their journey home they lost their eyes and antenna.)

I was serenaded with You Are My Sunshine.

And discovered the paper plate portraits of me and Matt.



Matt was a little bit concerned about the thinning hair, but didn't voice the slightest worry that Grace made him a brunette instead of a blonde that matches her own hair color.

Warm Heart

This past Christmas my Aunt Jean sent Gracie a gift in the mail.

I was overwhelmed by the kind gesture, but groaned at the dubious on the inside.

She sent a movie sized box of Raisinete’s and a gift card. The candy worked out well for me because Gracie lost interest in them after they got stuck in her teeth. Mmmm... well I like chocolate covered fruit. But gift cards are a pain in the ass to someplace where you can’t use the remaining $2.46 towards diapers.

So say hello to Gracie's Build-A-Bear gift card. Matt and I broke and took her to the mall last weekend.

And you know what? It was great. She loved it. LOVED IT. She painstakingly examined every. Single. Animal. And settled on the frog.

~She warmed a little plush heart to put in her creature between her palms and gently placed it in its chest.
~She thanked and hugged after the stuffing process was over.
~She took great pride in giving her newborn a ‘bath’ in the compressed air tub.
~She squealed in delight over the house box it was packaged into.
~She has slept with it every night since it became hers.

So what does all this mean?

That apparently I know nothing about how my child will react in certain situations. I presumed chaos would ensue instead of delight. I was correct; however, about the remaining balance on the card. She wanted her frog sans clothing, so now we have $9.21 left of the card.

I guess it won’t be so bad to go back and pay the difference for a Build-A-Bear cohort sometime in the future though. Thank you Aunt Jean!

Snow Days

It snowed again last night. Nice, fluffy duster kind of snow that melts instantly when salt is added. Despite this fact, the local schools are still on two hour delay - but I guess I still have a few more years before I have to get worked up about that.

Due to this scene though, Gracie wanted to wear her brand new snow boots. Her polar bear boots that just came in the mail on Monday. Every day this week she goes home and wears them until her little feet start to sweat. Then they are shelved for 24 hours and repeat.

Today though, the legitimately got to wear them outside the house, through the snow and into school. Despite our conversations about how boots are 'outside shoes' and her emphatic promise to remove them once we got to school, as far as I know they are still on her feet. So much for the promises of 2 year olds.

They are pretty darn cute though.

Dinosaur! Raawwrrrr!

Four day weekends are great.

Unless you don’t leave the house for the first two days and your two year old starts tearing things apart like a tornado, throwing random tantrums and refusing to nap.

Then, after two days you realize that there are still two more to go and someone is going to die.

OR

You take the opportunity to do the activities that you normally can’t cram into a weekend. (Matt is good like that. I was voting for death, figuring that a replacement was on the way anyhow…)

So Saturday afternoon we packed up and headed down to the Natural History Smithsonian.

Gracie spent the afternoon exclaiming over the giant stuffed elephant in the pass-through between exhibit halls….

She has cultivated a new love of dinosaurs- which in person was luke-warm (you know the sharp, menacing teeth and all), but was ignited again via a giant dinosaur sugar cookie and book with matching stuffed triceratops toy purchased at the gift shop.

She was fascinated by the Gem & Mineral room, exclaiming loudly over the ‘pretties’ and ‘fancies’ and ‘sparklies’ AND she left the Hope Diamond showcase with an amazed declaration of “Daddy, I see a diamond and it was BIG!”

It was particularly challenging for Matt to coax her to sleep that night though. He said it was annoying, but too cute to really be upset. She would close her eyes for a few minutes then pop her head back up and say, ‘Dinosaur! Raawwrrrr!’ or ‘I see elephant!’ or ‘I no like spiders!’ or ‘Cookie. It good!’ and then passed back out from the exhaustion of the day.

It is just one more example to us that she is in fact a little sponge. What we think might not be making a big impact at the time, turns out to an experience to remember.

The Dots are Here! The Dots are Here!

So last weekend I finished putting the dots up on Gracie's wall. I like them and she had a great time dictating which colors went where.

Here are the crappy pictures snapped with my cell...















Similar to my great artists rendering from over a month ago, huh?

Alternative Lyrics

Old McDonald as sung by Gracie on the way home today:

Old McDonald had a moo.
E-I-E-I-O
It's a moo moo there.
It's a moo moo there.
E-I-E-I-O. Moo.
On the farm there is a moo.
It's a moo moo there.

And .... ummm ... a PIG!

E-I-E-I-O
It's a moo moo, no oink oink there.
An oink oink there.

Old McDonald had an oink.
E-I-E-I-O

Yea!

Team Spirit

This past weekend Gracie wore her Bears jersey for the first time in ages. She was so proud to match her daddy and was overjoyed with our rendering of the Chicago Bears fight song, despite their loss in the end.

That morning during our weekly trip to the grocery store, the Sunday football jerseys were abound. I don’t think she quite understood that they stood for allegiance to different cities and teams, but she did know they weren’t like her navy and orange jersey and spent a good chunk of her time giving other shoppers the hairy eye.

Every time we saw a different jersey she would slap her belly and declare, Mama. I wear ‘Cago Beers. Yes love, yes you are. At home, the trend continued. Every half an hour heard a same declaration of, Mama, I wear ‘Cago Beers. When Gracie went to bed that night, I confiscated the jersey with all her other dirty clothes to run through the washer. It was air dried and put away for another day.

It seems another day is already upon us. Yesterday morning, out of the blue, she demanded to wear ‘Cago Beers to school. I am told by many sources that she once again spend the day slapping her belly and telling everyone who would listen (and some that could care less) that she is wearing her ‘Cago Beers. I warned the teachers at pick up that I had a feeling they would be seeing a lot of the jersey.

Despite this warning, I myself was unprepared for this morning. My child no longer wants variety in her wardrobe. She no longer wants dresses and feminine ruffles. She only want the Bears jersey, which by the way, was still unwashed this morning, covered with a days worth of food smears and snot, and therefore un-wearable.

*Enter the meltdown*

I know, I should have just put in on her, but it had ketchup smeared on the front. I know I should have just put it on her, but she didn’t want to put on a long sleeve shirt underneath to battle the December weather. I know, I should have just put it on her, but I’d she already had a super soft light blue fleece jumper dress laid out for today’s wardrobe damnit and if I have to wrestle her like an alligator to force clothes on the body she is wearing what I want her to!

So tonight, and every night in the foreseeable future, the jersey is going in the washing machine. Someone needs to explain to this child that I don’t do mid-week laundry though. And if you’re looking for a Christmas present for Gracie, more jerseys might come in handy, 3T please.

Terribles

It has been over 10 days since I last posted. For this I apologize. There have been many stories and moments worthy of note. I start writing the post in my head with little sticky notes on my memory and then .... nothing.

Nothing.

I am tired. I am now 16 weeks pregnant and not getting the 12 hours of sleep a day my body is demanding. So there is nothing. I instead have been choosing to live in the moments and forget them as soon as possible. Sure, they would make great vignettes of our lives and funny to the outsider and even to us in the future, but right now the stories are: terrible.

We have hit the terribles. I always assumed that stories of the dreaded terrible two's were exaggerations or examples of why Matt and I were in fact good parents, because the terribles weren't happening to us.

Sure, that is a little arrogant; especially given that Gracie is only 2 years and 1 month old now. But she's always been relatively mellow. Below the curve in emotional melt downs and above the curve in rational thought.

But now: SHE IS TWO. TWO DAMMIT. AND WE AREN'T GOING TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM HER!
(At least that is what I imagine she is screaming in her head during the temper tantrums.)

Oh, and the temper tantrums!
~They are because she wants to get dressed, but how dare you take off my pajamas!
~They are because she took off her own pajamas, but how dare you put clothes on me!
~They are because she pooped, but how dare you change my diaper!
~They are because she is hungry, but how dare you put food in front of me!
~They are because she is exhausted from all the tantrums, but how dare you expect me to take a nap!

What is the point of this post again? Oh yeah, I'm tired. Matt is tired. There were way more tears this weekend than smiles. And I will try to get back to capturing the tears for future enjoyment.

Moving Up

True to our word, we did in fact get Gracie's new room together in a flurry this weekend.

And you know what? Totally worth it.

For the first time in weeks she not only fell asleep quickly in her bed, but slept soundly through the night. This morning, instead of the usual identifying cries announcing she is awake, she padded out of her room and into our bathroom. With a smile.

Here is the new - big girl - room.

As it looks right now....

As it will look when I create my polka-dots. (Cut me some slack on the artists rendering, OK? This took me a good 20 minutes to do.)

And the official big girl bed. Just high enough not to roll out, but low enough to scale out of.

This new room will bring us peace, right? Right?

The Big Dot

We are having sleep issues again.

Not me, I could sleep for days right now. Not Matt, for once he seems to be able to make it though the night, although the Nyquil he is taking of his cold could have something to do with that.

So that only leaves one person left. It’s moved beyond occasional and into pattern that she wakes at the stroke of midnight and wants to sleep with one of us.

When we found out I was pregnant we bought a new bedroom set for Gracie so she can have an upgraded big girl room.

This past weekend I bought bedding that she loves. She’s been dragging the comforter all over the first floor and snuggling. She counts the many dots. She exclaims the colors of the rainbow. She demands she is the only one who can touch it, and then quickly retracts her demand with requests to lay on the floor with her.

Given all this, this weekend we start the transition. No, the room isn’t painted to go with the rainbow of dots yet, but yes I think she is ready to move from the crib to a toddler bed.

Wish us luck.

Pumpkin Pickin'

Saturday started off today with a sort-of plan.

We would stop by my OB's office to grab my N1H1 shot at their free flu clinic and then head to the pumpkin patch if it wasn't raining yet.

When the elevator doors opened on the 2nd floor of my OB's building, I never got off the elevator. I couldn't. There were close to 200 sweaty, pissed off, pregnant ladies crowding the halls to the point of chaos. Me and crowds don't mix like that. I will take my chances and use more hand sanitizer.

So off to the pumpkin patch we went. (Pumpkin picking and fresh Christmas tree chopping are two traditions that are firmly ensconced in me, and therefore are demanded to be passed onto to Gracie.)

Gracie picked her own pumpkin.

Then she picked a second one. Whatever, how much can two small pumpkins cost, right?


She frolicked through the fields.

And helped Matt do the heavy lifting.

And just as we finished, the rains started to sprinkle down.

This Friday will be her first foray into actually scooping her own pumpkin. We will see how excited is is about this next year....

Two

Two years have passed.

It's funny how time with little children seems infinitely slow and lightening fast at the same time.

Two years of hugs and kisses. Two years of tears and tantrums. Two years of walking and talking and playing and loving. Two years of us, of a family.

Without this blog so many memories would have been lost in the lightening fast.

I wish you a lifetime of joys and discovery like you've had this year my love. A lifetime of seeing the world through the eyes of a vibrant, inquisitive child. A lifetime of unabashed love and impulse.

Happy 2nd Birthday Gracie - not that you need my suggestion to be happy.

At Least There Was No Poo To Fling

My mom goes hot and cold with buying clothes for Gracie. When she is cold we don't see anything for months. When she is hot we get a box with a $20 shipping sticker on it. Maybe she is just warm to it year round and hoards....

The last box we received had a Halloween costume, necklaces, bracelets, toys and lots and lots of pajamas. This pair was the source of Matt's misery last night and my misery this morning.

For Matt, it is the fact that for whatever reason, the 2T version of Carters footies pajamas don't have the little tab that hides the zipper pull. So instead of Gracie quickly and quietly falling asleep, she played with that zipper for 30 minutes.

For me, it was the print. The monkey print. She didn't want to take the damn thing off. On a weekend, not a problem. On a school day, problem.

Me: Honey, you can't wear your monkey jammas to school, they'll be hot and you can't put on your shoes.

G: My monkeeee! My monkeeee! I wear monkeeee! My monkeeee!

Me: Sorry sweetie, but they have to come off. You can wear them again tonight. (shhh, don't tell Matt I said that). Then I forcibly removed them from her body.

G: Noooooooooo! MY MONKEEEEE! I WEAR! I WEAR!!!

(Please note: this conversation is greatly condensed.)

With Matt's help to quell the demonic kicking, I got her dressed. And then bribed her with milk. And pears. And chocolate chips.

Yes, chocolate chips. This game is about survival. A process that normally takes 5 minutes spun into 20 this morning, all because of some damn monkey pajamas.

Ties That Bond (Shoelaces That Is)

Two weeks ago, NES emailed me this story. I almost stole it and posted it up here right then and there. But then I started to get a little pang of guilt with the idea of blatant thievery - and you know - a little lazy too.

Today she has done the work for me! Sweet. Being lazy does pay off.

I present: A day in the lives of two-year-old best friends.

It makes you wonder how much we don't see, huh?

Again. Again. Again. Again.....

I never really understood children’s music.

As a childless adult, I mocked it. As a parent, I mocked the parents who gave in. I really did feel superior. Gracie is happy listening to Jason Mraz and Pink, thank you very much. We do not need children’s CD’s.

Then she got a little older and the Wheels on the Bus came into focus. OK, whatever, I can sing a few rounds of this. It’s not so bad.

Then she learned more songs. And started getting mad when I screwed up the words. And wanted me to sing for the entire 45 minute car ride.

So I caved. You knew this was coming though, that I become one of them. One of the parent’s I had always mocked. The person who is blaring the Itsy Bitsy Spider when you pull up next to them at the stoplight. You can judge, it’s OK. I expect it.

It’s taken me – oh, a few months – to get up the gumption and admit that we own a children’s CD. So here is it, full out there. I present the Toddler Tunes.

And do you want to know why I’m admitting this? Because I’m buying more. Listen, I need more. I’m starting to get a nervous twitch from the repetition, and frankly, I am tired of listening to Gracie complain everyday that the damn CD doesn’t have Twinkle Twinkle on it.

I love my daughter, but I hate what I’ve become.