play

Iris has made a fort (or “lodge” as she calls it) under the platform Andy built for the slide. She wants to spend a lot of time there. She collects loads of things for the lodge, then she tidies and arranges and sorts her collection of things. She “harvests food for the winter”, she gathers firewood and builds fires and cooks meals. She cares for her children (who often happen to be Elsa) in the lodge and generally keeps herself very busy.

I watch quietly, only inserting myself in her play when needed by her (or Elsa). I marvel at her imagination, her determination and her intent. I love this serious business of play. I see how much she grows from it. She is dirty and windblown and so in the moment. There is much to be learned in these sessions under the slide. For all of us.

Happy Monday.

moving forward

Maybe it was the sweaty curls pasted to her neck. Maybe it was the white chubby belly floating happily above her little legs in the pool. It’s hard to tell, but for some reason today it hit me like a load of bricks. Hard, and right in my heart. This baby isn’t going to be a baby much longer. Oh goodness did I get all sappy and melancholy and gaga over her. Almost 15 months, she is. And today, yes today, right after I got done being all sad and sappy about her growing up, she took her first solo steps. 5 of them. Just like that. As if to say, hang on mom, we’re starting this ride.

So here we go. Elsa Mae, we with are with you on this ride no matter where it takes us. We’re up for it (even if I have to give myself pep talks pretty often) and we are loving you, and that sister of yours, every second of the way.

You rock little one. Go get em.

just now

It would be so easy to forget to love this life now. Sometimes it feels like things will always be this way. Sometimes I wish for the days to come.

But always there is this knowing: the time in which we get to hold our children, really hold them, and center them, and guide them, and try to give them what they need to go out there, is really just so short.

And so now: Coffee, toast and juice by the fire before the sun comes up. Chubby legs on the lambskin changing rug. Nursing our babies together on the couch in the afternoon sunshine. Eating snow until her lips are too cold. Chopping vegetables together for supper. Holding hands and dancing on the rug. Giggles in bed before closing their eyes. Big gummy kisses.

another new chapter

Andy’s topic and a good one it is. A new chapter: The Land of No.

Elsa:
“No you may not eat that wood chip”
“No you may not eat that ladybug”
“No you may not eat that old crusty noodle that has been under the refrigerator”
“No you may not drink the dog water”

Iris:
“No you may not go outside in your swimming suit” (serious head-hanging)
“No you cannot hoard all the toys under your bed”
“No you cannot lick the sink” (“but papa lets me lick it”)
“No you are not in charge”

You see how it’s been going around here. Elsa is on the move. Completely and fast. We can’t keep up and fully admit she’s eaten some, well, things WE wouldn’t eat. Iris is trying hard to keep control of all her stuff and trying hard to learn how to share. Today when I talked to Andy on the phone from work every sentence was interrupted by “Hang on I gotta get Elsa” and ” Iris please don’t pull on her legs” or finally “I’ll just talk to you later”.

And yes, we let her stir the cobbler batter with a knife.

a new year

I’ve never been much for resolutions (maybe that explains why I’m 10 days late in thinking about kicking off the new year), but I am one for lists…oh how I love a good list. So today, after one of those parenting days that leaves me thinking my children may have fared better had I just kept my head under the covers the entire day, I am here with good intentions and armed with a list.

The 2010 list of aspirations (in no particular order, of course):

do more yoga
learn to make pies
build some forts
sew something for each girl
canoe the Kickapoo (it’s been too long)
spend more time doing NOTHING and liking it
find humor everyday, use its power like discipline
grow a medicine garden
follow Andy’s example, practice generosity
figure out photoshop
knit something for myself
take the girls to Lake Superior
watch a movie or two with my husband
harvest and eat more wild foods
plant trees along the driveway
talk less, listen more
model kindness and patience for my children
sew bedroom curtains
have friends over more
let go of fears

There’s a start. A good long year ahead, each moment a fresh chance to move toward that best vision of myself. I feel better already.

this day

There are two posts going on in my mind tonight. The first one is about how lovely Autumn is. About rosy cheeks and hats and apple sauce, and firing up the woodstove, and hearty soups with the last vegetables before the freeze, and the way it feels so cozy inside.

The second one is about how tough today was. Not tough, like facing poverty or hunger or war, not serious tough. Just tough like needing to give yourself a parent time-out before you say something you shouldn’t- and then saying it anyway. Just tough like wishing you could rewind and start over. Tough like wishing you could have the day to yourself and then feeling guilty. Tough like wondering if you somehow made her “this way”.

Last night I read this great post. It’s good to remember that 3 is still very little. Defiance is strength. This too shall pass.

At the end of this day, she sat down to her bowl of soup, after refusing to sit in her booster seat and ate most of the vegetables while kneeling on a BIG chair and merrily chatting our ears off. She is her own girl. And ours too.

change

I’d like to say we are getting into a groove around here. The past week or so has gifted us (meaning Andy and I) with more sleep than those first few weeks. But I know as soon as we get used to it, something will change. It always does. Sometimes for the better and sometimes not. Living with a 2 year old has taught me that. So, in times of frustration (like the whiny stages) , I tell myself, “this too shall pass” and it will (right?).
I’m re-reading a simple, but thoughtful parenting book called “Mitten Strings for God” (it’s not religious (really) despite its title). In her chapter on discipline the author says this:
“It’s not what I do as a mother, but who I am as a human being that will make a deep and lasting impression on my children. I can bring peace to my children only when I possess it myself.” Genius. Words to live by.

On another parenting note, we’ve been digging (again) some children’s music that is great for bouncing fussy babies, or just jamming in the car. We always say, you know you’ve got a good kids album when mom and dad keep it cranked long after the kids have nodded off. In case you are looking for some great new tunes, here are a few of our favorites:
Elizabeth Mitchell
Dan Zanes
Father Goose
African Playground

Hope you have a lovely weekend.

the view

As a nursing mom you find yourself in one place, a lot. The same chair I spent hours nursing Iris is where I find myself once again. I remember there were times with Iris when I felt (just a wee bit) trapped in that chair, eager and itching to move on to the next thing. This time I’m more determined to relish the moments. I have more perspective on how fast they go by. So in that spirit I’m drinking in “the view from my chair”. After all it’s pretty sweet.

Here’s to long moments, right here, in this chair.