LG didn’t want what we made for dinner last night, so she was offered the option of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead. She ended up (finally) eating the PB&J.

When I was growing up, my mom would often make three different meals. One for me, one for my dad and one for herself. (I was an exceptionally picky eater back then - not so much anymore - so there is hope for all the picky eaters out there.) I’m not going down that road, though.

Mike’s family had the “eat what I made or PB&J” rule. I think that’s an acceptable option, because kids don’t always like the same foods as grown-ups and I don’t necessarily want to eat grilled cheese or mac & cheese every night. So I do think it’s fair to have a different option available, but it’s not going to be one that’s going to cause us a lot of extra work.

So I’m wondering. What’s the rule in your house when one of your kids doesn’t want to eat what you made?

There were days during the time from 18 months to 3 1/2 that I was ready to send LG back where she came from. Okay, not really, but you know what I mean. She tried my patience. A lot. Now, I want to be truthful here, because I’ve seen other kids that age that are just normally thousands of times worse than she was at her worst moment, but those hard times are hard no matter what because you’re not used to them when they don’t happen that often. You know what I’m saying?

Anyway, in the last few weeks, there has been a marked change in her behavior. As in she has become unbelievably sweet. So sweet that I feel like I need to brush my teeth after I experience it. She says shes loves me. She says I’m her friend. She says, “I like you, Mommy.” She even said, “you’re the best in the whole wide world.” Holy cow. I knew motherhood would be awesome, but I never knew how awesome. And there were times during that terrible 2/trying 3 stage that I wondered if I’d live through it. But now that she’s nearing 4? I see this beautiful, sweet amazing little girl. This little girl that I just want to hug and hold on to and sometimes eat her up because she is just that yummy and sweet. And I wonder how I managed to help create this amazing little creature.

It’s not the big things in life that are the really good stuff. It’s not fancy computers and exotic vacations and fancy restaurants. Nope. The good stuff is the feel of a little hand in mine, a smile, a whisper, a little flutterby flitting throughout the house singing the songs she makes up. It’s hugs and kisses and saying prayers together and her asking to “snuggle up”. This next year is the last year that she’ll be home with me all day every day. And I’m going to enjoy all the good stuff - every minute of it. Because the good stuff is simple and beautiful and perfect. And I never forget how very lucky I am to have it.

“I’m a good girl.  I’m not in trouble.  I’m okay.”  It almost always means she’s been doing something she wasn’t supposed to and she’s probably in trouble.  But it’s pretty endearing anyway. ;)

Do you ever have one of those moments where something just hits you and you just think, “Wow.” Today’s wow moment happened as I was going through old movies of LG that I’m saving to my external hard drive so that I can delete them from my laptop to give me some more space until I get my new desktop computer. I was looking at the little chubby 9 month old baby with not much hair and big eyes and then I turned and looked at the 3 year old with long curls and still big eyes and a much leaner physique and a crazy big vocabulary and I realized that even though I love(d) that 9 month old baby a lot, I love this 3 year old a thousand times more.

And I imagine that I’ll love the 13 year old who is as tall as I am and rolls her eyes at me to the point I might want to scream a thousand times more than that. I think it just surprised me because I thought there was no way I could love anything more than I loved that little baby girl. But, I do. I really really do.

When you become a mom, you learn how to celebrate the little triumphs. Like, take potty training for instance. We’ve not really been pushing it too much because she just doesn’t seem all that interested in it, and since there’s no particular reason to force the issue at this point in time, it didn’t seem like a battle that was worth fighting. However, she’s pushing 3 1/2, so the day is coming when the pull-ups go bye bye and I do laundry every day. Or something. We set the date for June 2 - after most of our major obligations are over until September. June 2, the day she turns 3 1/2, is the day we get rid of the pull-ups and use the Elmo and Curious George panties that are waiting patiently in her drawer.

But maybe, just maybe, it’ll happen sooner. I kept hoping that she might just train herself and I wouldn’t have to battle with her. And tonight? Out of the blue, as she was watching her favorite television show before bedtime, she said she needed to go potty. And since you’ve got to take every little opportunity to encourage these things, I said okay and took her off to the bathroom, even though I figured it would be another false alarm and she’d probably already gone in her pull-up. But what do you know? She hadn’t and she went in her potty chair. So, that means, she felt the urge to go and told me BEFORE she went. For the very first time ever. I’d say that’s a pretty big little thing. It sure made the ending of my day better than the beginning of it. (Which was waking up to my monthly visitor (which is not so monthly anymore) and the fact that my daughter had leaked out her pull-up all over my bed while I was trying to get a little extra sleep while she watched the Disney channel.)

This post brought to you by Too Much Information.

Yesterday I woke up feeling okay, well mostly okay. Not great, but okay. I figured I could make it to the store like I had planned. And I did. But I spent the entire time in the store wondering if I was going to make it or if I was going to have to call Mike to come get us.

I got home, got the groceries in, put away what had to be put away and then crawled in bed, where I stayed for the rest of the day and night, other than bathroom breaks. I felt nauseous all day and I had a bit of diarrhea, but at least it wasn’t the “run to the bathroom every 5 minutes” kind. Mike had a staff meeting all morning and then a staff lunch, then came home for awhile and got LG fed. Then he had to go do a bid for someone, but luckily when he got home (with 7up - yay!), he was home to stay.

I have to say that yesterday was not my most stellar parenting day, but thank goodness LG is old enough to entertain herself. She probably could have lived without me yelling at her every time she jiggled my bed, though. She actually was very sweet and very compassionate - giving hugs and saying “You don’t feel good Mama?” and patting my hand. She’s a good little kiddo and I’m lucky to have her.

It’s hard when you’re sick and you still have to be the parent, but it is what it is. And you have to deal with it. Unless, of course, you’re one of those parents, who just sends their kids to school/daycare even when they’re sick, with no regard and consideration for other people. But that’s another rant. My point is that parenting is not always easy. Sometimes you don’t feel like being the grown up and taking care of the little one, but you still have to do it because that’s what you signed up for when you brought them into the world (or adopted them, whatever the case may be). I certainly didn’t feel like taking care of LG yesterday, and luckily, Mike was around to feed her, but had he not been, I’d have managed somehow, because it’s what you do. Just like I take responsibility for her when she is sick, even if it means I have to miss out on things I’d like to do or need to do.

Anyway, I’m rambling. My point, if there is one, is that you have to take responsibility for your kids no matter what - when they’re sick, when you’re sick, whatever. It’s called parenting.

When I was a little girl, I was shy - painfully so. My parents, out of love I’m sure, didn’t push me to come out of it. I truly believe that it would have been better for me if they had. I think I would have accomplished so much more in my life had they just pushed me a little harder to work through my shyness. I have mostly overcome my shyness as an adult, but it has been with conscious effort. I still sometimes feel like I want to turn around and run away when I am put in a new situation that feels uncomfortable.

Little Girl is going through a painfully shy period right now and I think it’s harder on me than it is on her because I just refuse to allow her to be debilitated by her shyness like I was. I know that shyness is a stage to a point, but I also know that it can build into a disability if it isn’t faced.

Today I took LG to her first day of tap dancing class at the parks and recreation center. She was fine up until we went into the studio. We got there early enough for her to observe the ballet class that was before her class - so she could see where she would be and what she would be doing and that I would be on the other side of the window where she could see me if she felt unsure. As I walked her into the room, the tears started. I gave her a hug, got her sitting down on the floor and distracted with other little girls and her teacher so that she stopped crying and quietly walked out the door to a seat on the other side of the window. She did okay for awhile - although she wasn’t exactly participating, she also wasn’t crying. At first. Then the tears started again. And when the teacher tried to get her to stand up and she refused, I was called back in. The teacher let us sit and watch the class from a chair inside the room and I spent the time whispering in her ear that she could surely do that! And oh, doesn’t that look fun? And would she maybe like to try again? The answer to every question was “no” until the girls started getting ready to go. Then she thought she might like to try. I had to tell her that it was too late this week, but she could certainly come back next week and try again. Her teacher kindly gave her a hand stamp and said we’d try again next week. And we will. And the week after that.

Because here’s the thing. It’s not about being the best. It’s not even about learning to tap dance. It’s about trying. It’s about stepping out of your comfort zone a little bit and being brave. It’s about building calluses.

I’m sure you’ve all seen a baby’s foot. So soft and perfect and pink and untouched. And some part of us might want to keep those feet perfect and pink and untouched for as long as we can by not letting our little ones go barefooted. But, look what you miss by not going barefooted! You miss the feel of the soft grass and the squish of the wet mud and the textures and tickles and touch of things that are new and different. Yes, you won’t get calluses and you won’t get scratches, but you’d miss so much more. Calluses on our feet are part of what make us human I think - and not just on our feet - but on our hands or our elbows or our knees or wherever we might build them. But more importantly, we have to have a few calluses on our hearts. Not enough that we can’t feel anything anymore, but enough to know that we have experienced the textures of life. When we’re little it’s easy to get our feelings hurt, but we build those calluses on our hearts and we learn that just because someone says something critical or hurtful, it’s not going to break us. We just learn how to let the calluses protect our tender feelings and grow stronger because they are there to protect us.

I always thought teaching was the hardest job I ever had until I became a parent. Don’t get me wrong - teaching is most definitely the second hardest job I’ve ever had. But parenting is much much tougher. It’s hard to know when to push harder and when to back off. It’s hard to always know exactly the right thing to say or do to help your kids grow into kind-hearted, yet strong adults and make good decisions. I’ve always believed that the most important ingredient in parenting is love, and I still believe that. But, when love causes us to keep our kids from building calluses, then love hinders rather than helps. Watching my daughter sit there and cry and not going to her was hard. But it was even harder to have to go to her because she was afraid to try. That hurt even more.

I know my parents loved me very much, but they made mistakes. We all do, of course, but if one of the things I learn from them is to not make the same mistakes with my daughter that they made with me, well, that’s okay, too. Because in their own way, I guess they gave me the strength to build my own calluses.

Have you ever have one of those watershed moments as a parent where you just think, wow, having a kid is pretty awesome? I had a few of those today. Mine was being able to feel like I had a “daughter” and not just a “child”.

I took LG with me to Kohl’s today to shop for my Easter dress. She’s finally old enough to walk and not have to ride in a stroller or shopping cart and young enough that she doesn’t really want me to be out of her sight - although she does get distracted now and then (we still do the shopping cart thing at the grocery store and Target because it’s just easier). But she went into the dressing room with me, sat on the little seat, held my clothes for me while I tried the new ones on, gave me her opinion of what I picked out, and just generally was pretty awesome company. And it hit me, so this is what it’s like to have a daughter. Someone who wants to hang out with you, who you don’t have to impress because she loves you for being you, who will keep you company and converse with you (even if it doesn’t always make sense or have anything to do with anything). This is what being a parent is all about - what makes all the stinky diapers and screaming tantrums and spit up and sleepless nights worthwhile. This is the beginning of the lifelong friendship I hope to have with this sweet little girl. This is why I don’t strangle her when she’s having a “moment”. This is why my mom loved me so much. This is what I’ve longed for, what I’ve looked forward to.

Later on, after we came home, I was fiddling around with a melody and lyrics and she grasped onto it as I was recording it on my little digital recorder and we sang it over and over and I had this amazing warm feeling inside because I realized that this was the legacy I was leaving to my child. A love of music that may very well be a seed that’s planted now and blossoms into a beautiful flower of talent when she’s older. Who knows? But, the fact that we can share one of the things I love most in the world with each other is pure joy.

And then tonight when she went to bed, we sang our new bedtime song twice, because once wasn’t enough for her.

And yes, there were moments during the day that weren’t beautiful and picture perfect, but who cares? Those aren’t the moments either one of us will remember next week or next month or next year. But we will remember going shopping together and singing together.

Sometimes being the parent of an infant or a toddler feels like a thankless exhausting job because you don’t get a lot of positive feedback from your “boss”. Yes, you get cuddles and hugs, but five or ten or twenty minutes later, you have to start all over again and feed them or change them or attend to whatever need they might have. And I’m not saying that’s horrible in any way, I’m just saying that sometimes it’s lonely and tiring. But maybe if that exhausted first-time mom of a baby who doesn’t sleep through the night yet, had an inkling of the delight that is to come, it might make it that much easier to get up in the middle of the night for the umpteenth time.

Parenting is not an easy job, not by a long shot. But wow. Every year you get a promotion. An every day you get to see the world a whole new way. And the fringe benefits? The kisses and the hugs and joy and the giggles and smiles and the “I love you Moms” and the moments that feel like there is no else one on earth but the two of you? Those…those are simply priceless.

Updated Saturday morning to add: We used the humidifier last night, and she only woke up one time and that was before I went to sleep. So it apparently helped. Thank goodness.

As I mentioned the other day, LG is sick. Her fever is gone, but she’s got this lovely runny stuffy nose. You know the kind. Where the beautiful darling child has runny nose all over face and you have to wash it every 10 minutes because she a) refuses to blow it and/or b) forgets to wipe it.

Last night, she had the worst night of sleeping I think she’s had in her entire life. It was not a bowl of cherries for Mike and me either. She’d wake up every couple of hours or so screaming and crying because she just couldn’t get comfortable and breathe. And who can blame her? I hate having stuffy noses, but at least in my old age I know how to manage to find myself a position where I can get a little air through at least one of my nostrils, thereby not requiring me to breathe through my mouth all night.

It doesn’t help that she doesn’t like to sleep on a pillow, which would elevate her head a bit and maybe just maybe make it easier for her to breathe. But try telling that to a half asleep pissed off three year old. Does not work too well.

Needless to say, none of us got much sleep last night. Even though Mike ended up being the one who got up and went to her because he did a better job soothing her than I did last night (hey whatever works), the crying still woke me up. So every time she woke up, so did we. And then she woke up for good at 7 a.m. Yay. Mike managed to sleep a couple more hours after that, but I didn’t.

Awhile ago, she was playing in her room and all of a sudden I noticed it was quiet. I started calling her, asking her where she was, what she was doing, and to ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW! She didn’t answer, so I had to investigate. And this is what I found:

I contemplated moving her, but then I thought, what the heck? 1) She’s sleeping peacefully. 2) She can probably breathe better that way. And 3) She’s only three years old so the position will not make her body hurt nearly as much as it would mine. A nap is a nap is a nap, right?

By the way, I went to Target first thing this morning and got her a humidifier (thanks for the suggestion Rochelle!), so I’m hoping that will help her sleep a little better tonight. *Crossing fingers*

Updated to add: An hour or so later and she’s on the floor with her legs under bed. But she’s still asleep and goodness knows she needs the sleep!

Since LG’s birthday is making me a ball of stress because I don’t know how to get everything done and fit everything in, I think we should just start celebrating her birthday when she was supposed to be born.

January 25 is a much less stressful time don’t you think? I’ll show her who’s boss! Little Miss I Had to Come Eight Weeks Early. HA! ;)

I was just reading an article about how children should address the adults in their lives - should they address them as Mr. or Mrs. or should they use their first names?

On one side of the argument was the father who grew up using the titles of respect and thinks that the kids should use them. On the other side was the mother who says titles are old fashioned and we live in a first name world.

As for me, I guess I fall somewhere in the middle - depends on the adult being addressed. I, personally, prefer to be called Karin. Mrs. LastName was saved for when I was in the classroom. Other than that, I would much rather be called by my first name by kids and adults.

When I was a kid, my grandparents on my dad’s side were Grandpa and Grandma LastName. On my mom’s side, my grandfather was “Poppy” and my grandmother (deceased by the time I came along) was “Nanny”. I did not really care for those names at all, but because I was the last grandchild, I was stuck with them.

So when LG came along, even though she wasn’t the first grandchild, I put my foot down. Even though her older cousin addresses Mike’s mom as “Nonny”*, I said she would be “Grandma” until LG was old enough to decide what she wanted to call her. And actually, my other sis-in-law wanted her to be “Grandma”, too, so generally she is “Grandma”, and since she is LG’s only living grandma, there is no need to distinguish between two grandmas.

Both of the Grandpas, however, choose to be Grandpa FirstName. It’s kind of funny to me, because I can’t in a million years imagine calling my grandfathers “Grandpa John” or “Grandpa Lloyd”, but it is a different world we live in now. When LG was first learning to talk, though, she only called Mike’s dad by his first name and left the Grandpa part off. Her Grandpa LOVED it and that was her special name for him. Now that she’s able to talk better, she calls him Grandpa FirstName.

As for friends, we’ve always let her call them by their first names, partly because it was a lot easier to get one first name out when she was learning to talk than it was to get Mr. or Mrs. LastName out. That’s quite a mouthful for a little person!

I do think, however, that as she begins to encounter people that are not “familiars”, we will be using the Mr. or Mrs. or Miss titles a little more often, even if it’s Mr. FirstName instead of Mr. LastName. As I said, I think how a child addresses an adult should depend on who the adult is, and, of course, what the adult in question prefers.

What about you? How do your children address adults?

*Disclaimer: I have nothing against other names for grandparents besides Grandma or Grandpa…it’s just not my style or taste for me or my kiddo - probably because I got made fun of in school for referring to my grandfather as “Poppy” after which I stopped referring to him as “Poppy” and just called him “my grandpa”.

You can learn a lot about yourself, and what kind of parent you are, just by watching your child play. This morning, LG is playing with three rabbits. The one in the dress is “Mommy”, the tiny one is the “baby” and the other big one is “Daddy”.

The words the bunnies are “saying” are things like “I love you most in the whole wide world” and “you’re so cute”. Nothing negative. Nothing angry. Then the mommy and daddy rabbit dance together. Then the mommy and the baby dance together.

It’s all positive and happy and loving. I think that must mean that, in general, our conversations with her, and about her, are positive and loving. Obviously, we have to get after her now and then, and she doesn’t like it too much, but it doesn’t seem to stick with her too long.

Watching your child at play is a great learning experience. Sometimes you might learn things that don’t make you feel too good, but hopefully, you’ll just see the happiness that you try to surround your child with demonstrated in her pretend play.

Since LG went into her toddler bed, she’s slept with a baby gate in the doorway so I could get some sleep instead of waking up at every little sound wondering if she was wandering the house in the middle of the night.

But a few days ago, I asked her if she wanted the gate up or down during her naptime. She opted for no gate, and I told her she could have it that way as long as she stayed in bed and took her nap. Which she did. And when she woke up a couple of hours later, she calmly walked into my room to find me.

The gate continued to go up at night, though, until last night, when she told her father that she didn’t want the gate up. And of course he gave in and left it down. Darn him. But actually, she did really well. She stayed in bed until about 6 am, when she got out of bed and woke her dad up (it was a bad snoring night so he was on the couch…lol!) saying that she had an owie on her foot. He put a band-aid on it and she went back to bed and back to sleep for another hour or two. But, other than that, she stayed in her room in her bed.

So, I guess the time has come for the gate to come down for good. (Well, except maybe for time outs when necessary.) As long as she stays in her room and sleeps and doesn’t wander the house at night, I guess she’s earned the right to that small bit of freedom, and since she’ll be potty training very very soon (and that’s another post for another day), it’s becoming necessary anyway. On the plus side, it means I don’t have to get out of bed to open it when she wants to get up. I like that part. ;)

…you might not be able to find the sippy cup valves when you’re putting the dishes away.

If you can’t find the valves, you might have to ask your husband to help you look for them.

If he helps you look for them, he might find them in the “tunnel”, better known as the garbage disposal.

If he finds them in the garbage disposal, you might say a prayer of thanksgiving that you hadn’t used it in the last couple of days and that the valves are still usable and in one piece.

And then you might remind your husband that he should probably keep an eagle eye on Little Girl when she’s “helping” him with the dishes.

For those of you who have a two year old or an almost two year old and you think that they might not see three at times, fear not. There is hope. I have witnessed it.

We are starting our fourth year (is it really the fourth year already???) of doing the monthly religious education program at our church. Our band (which consists of me, Mike, Marlene, Rochelle, our drummer and our guitar player) does the music for the program which is some praise music before it starts, a theme song, and two meditation songs (usually a solo for Marlene and a solo for me) accompanied by awesome slide shows put together by Marlene’s hubby.

The first year we did Generations (as it’s called), I was pregnant for the first half of the school year and then had an infant for the rest, so she was pretty easy to deal with. The next year I had a non-walking child for the first half and a toddling child for the second half, but she was still mostly content to sit in her stroller while we played. Last year, though, I had a 1 1/2 year old for the first half and a 2 year old for the second half of the year and by the end of the year, she was getting pretty rowdy. Rowdy as in coming up and grabbing on me while I was singing and not wanting to sit still and do what was asked of her. And even though we did make it to the end of the year, it was rough, and we determined that we would try this first month to see how she did on Monday night Generations when no one was there to corral her. (On Sunday Marlene’s kids have the “joy” of that…lol!)

So tonight was the experiment. If she couldn’t handle it, she was going to have to go to Grandma’s on Monday nights when we had Generations.

But lo and behold, this almost-threeness is charming. I told her my expectations - that she was to sit in her chair (she had toys and snacks) and stay there and be quiet while we were singing. And you know what? She totally did everything we asked of her.

The best part? Was when we were done and she yelled “I did it Mommy! I did it!”. Love that kid!

But my point, which took me forever to get to it seems, is that even though the two year old thing can be difficult, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Two year olds are (or can be) obstinate, stubborn, and frustrating. There are good reasons for that - they are testing limits. And it seems to me that if you let them test the limits, but keep reminding them where those limits are, at some point, say like about three months or so before they turn three years old, it finally starts sinking in. And they become these charming, sweet little human beings again, who most of all want to please you. Now, this is not to say that they are perfect. Because none of us are. And they certainly will still have their moments, but it becomes obvious that the “worst” is over, and you feel like you might actually be okay at this parenting thing.

And just when you get in your groove? The hormones start kicking in and that testing limits thing starts all over again. But I’ve got a few years before that happens, thank goodness. In the meantime, I’m totally going to enjoy getting my sweet sweet little girl back! :)