Nan and I made cookies a little while ago. Sugar cookies. Cut-out sugar cookies. Apparently I am overly ambitious in addition to being a glutton for punishment. At least I have cookies to eat while I weep with frustration. She was angry because she was too small to properly control the rolling pin, so I tried to locate her little rolling pin from her kitchen-- alas, it remains MIA. She was frustrated that the cut-outs weren't instantly baked cookies. She became LIVID when the dough would tear. But, she made me laugh with her interpretations of the shapes we cut with the cookie cutters. The gingerbread man was a flower, the mitten was a heart, and the stocking was a shoe. Hee. I shall let her live.

Blergh. It's been a long, long week, as Jay has been away from home 'til almost 10pm every day. He promised to be home for dinner tonight, so Nan and I prepared a fantastic steak dinner, w/ Pioneer Woman's Crash Hot Potatoes. Yummm. We planned for a 6:30 dinner, so when he called at 6:50 and announced he was on his way home, I was less than excited. He eventually got here, and we had a nice meal. Nan was so happy to see her dad. And I was happy the child finally got a bath. Sandbox day at school didn't help on the filthy kid front. Next week, baths will be even spottier, unless we drag ourselves to Grandma's every other day or so. But, the musical is next weekend, and I'll have my husband back in the evenings. The weekends are still lost, but at least the girl will be clean.
Nan spent much of the afternoon wearing a tutu, ballet slippers, and her Indian headdress that she made at school today. Quite the picture. When she added her WordGirl cape to the mix, it really completed the ensemble. I have been raiding clearance Halloween costumes to give to her for Christmas, to enhance her dress-up box. Thus far, I have scored miniature doctor's scrubs, a Supergirl outfit, a geisha outfit (!), and a cowboy outfit (complete with a duster jacket). Each of those averaged around $5. Woo! I plan to ask my MIL to further enhance the dress-up trunk for Christmas-- she's an amazing seamstress, and I think she'd have fun making costumes for my girl. Plus, costumes are easy to haul back on the airplane. Unlike the life-sized Elmo and Winnie-the-Pooh dolls we got for Nan's first Christmas. (Seriously. The Elmo is enormous. It's STILL taller than she is.)
Oh-- bathtime is over. Time to go read stories. The best time of the day-- snuggling with my clean, sleepy girl.

Sooo... big things have happened. I am no longer employed. Last Thursday morning, I went to get my hair cut and highlighted, and Thursday afternoon, they called to tell me I was being laid off effective 10/31. I don't think there's any correlation between the two events. Anyway. I have new hair, and no job. Good news is I have three and a half months of severance pay to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. But! Trick-or-treating was a stupendous success, resulting in an amazing chocolate stash, as my daughter ate one bag of M&M's on Halloween night and promptly forgot the candy existed. Score! And the Halloween party went well. It was gorgeous outside, so the kids ran themselves silly out on my parents' lawn. It was awesome. The yard was overrun by fairies and pirates and firefighters and Robin Hood and various other creatures. The WordGirl costume was a big hit, and Nan is wearing the cape as I write this. I think she'd sleep with it if I let her.
The best part of my enforced downtime is I get to play with my girl. We went to the playground, and I wasn't checking my watch the whole time, thinking I need to get home to work. (Ok... I /was/ checking my watch... but it was just because I was bored silly after 30 minutes, not because I had to get back to work.)
I did sign up to do NaBloPoMo... but. The layoff, etc, made me a giant FAILURE. I think I'll try to get back on the horse-- I will do my best to post daily for the rest of the month. Stop laughing.

I finished Natalie's outfit tonight. I cut out the star emblem and affixed it to her shirt. It looks awesome. I even cut out a spare, in case she works that one off in the course of trick-or-treating. Her cape is ready, her boots are in place, and she will look like WordGirl. Yay! She's getting excited-- they've been speaking about trick-or-treating at school, and singing spooky songs. She came home singing something about a pirate with a cough (WTF?), and something that ends with her screaming, "BOOOO!" at the top of her lungs. Jay had a half day at school today, so he picked her up from school. She was thrilled. I'm sure her teachers were relieved to see a competent parent pick her up-- this morning, I dropped her off with her shoes on the wrong feet. The shoes were put on the wrong feet BY ME. And she TRIED TO TELL ME THEY WERE WRONG and I blew her off. Sigh. Her teachers laughed, and Mrs. Nestor (whose daughter is in Nan's class) told me her daughter was wearing mis-matched socks this morning. Glad to know I'm not the only incompetent parent. As Jay's on fall break now, he and Nan are visiting the Children's Museum tomorrow. She's super excited to see the dinosaurs-- she says SHE'S a dinosaur, and she's going to go back to the museum to see her dino brothers and sisters. Silly girl.

Halloween is creeping up, and I've got a lot to do. I have to put the finishing touches on Nan's WordGirl outfit, and I have a lot of cooking to do for our Halloween party on Saturday. (Yes, it's the day AFTER Halloween, but I wanted to have a party. So there.) I have a tendency to take on too much, because I am a control-freak beyond all control-freaks. I have delegated a few tasks, but I'm taking on the brunt of the food. I'm cooking chili-- meatful and meatless-- and cornbread, a few appetizers and a grownup dessert. And possibly 18 sugar cookies if no one else steps up to bring them. I am crazy. Oh, and I'm planning the crafts for the children and the decorating. The list-making alone has made me nuts. Why, oh why, do I do this? Because I love it. I love getting people I love together, to eat and laugh and drink and play. I love seeing the kids I haven't seen in almost a year, I love watching the pack of children run around like lunatics. We usually do this at Christmas time, but it's gotten so busy at that time of year that we decided to move it to Halloween. I am looking forward to a more casual, laid-back meal, and hopefully I can get everything done.
Nan keeps changing her mind about her outfit-- she has decided to be a pumpkin, a pirate, and a cucumber, just today. I keep gently guiding her back to the outfit that we've already put together-- she WILL BE WORDGIRL. Too damned bad, kid. Next year, you get a little more autonomy re. your Halloween costume. For now? I still have some say in her ensemble. Thank god.

Nan's on fall break this week-- no school on Wednesday or Friday. It was sorely missed, to say the least. But, frankly, her immune system could use a break. She can't shake this nasty cough-- it sounds like she's been smoking for forty years-- and she's got a perpetual runny nose. So, I called the doctor. Again. I was looking for a refill on the cough syrup. Instead, I got an 8:30 am appointment. Argh. We can barely get to school at 9, let alone anywhere before that. I scheduled the appointment for Thursday, the day we planned to go to the pumpkin farm with my mom and dad. Or, as I explained it to Nan on Thursday morning, "HEY! We're going to Grandma and Grandpa's house, and then to the PUMPKIN FARM! But first, we've got to make a quick stop..." Poor kid. I didn't tell her 'til we were in the parking lot of the doctor's office that she had an appointment with Dr. O. Of course, the tears started, and I had to drag my limp rag of a child into the office. She was fine when we got in there, and was an excellent patient. Here's the funny thing-- the doctor thinks she has allergies. That isn't funny, of course-- what's funny is she suggested Nan might be allergic to our cats. You know, like Jay talked himself into believing so he could soothe his conscience when we decided to find new homes for the kitties. Whatever gets my archnemesis, Miles, out of the house. I hope it helps Nan feel better. I know I'll feel better when there's not cat pee in my hallway. Anyway, Nan's now on an extensive regimen of allergy meds. We're to revisit the doctor in a month and reassess her condition. But, when I laid her down for her nap that afternoon, I realized-- she was still. coughing. After a drastically curtailed nap, I called the nurse back and begged for some sort of relief for my kid and myself. She recommended an OTC cough syrup, and that helped a little. She's exhausted, and snotty, and only wants me. It's nice to be loved, but right now I'd love nothing more than to leave her at my mom's for a night or two without a backward glance. That wouldn't be fair to her OR my mom at this point-- everybody would be miserable. My mom made a half-hearted offer to keep her last night, but I could see the fear that I would take her up on it in her eyes. I told mom to bring her home at bedtime.
After the visit to the doctor (complete with flu shot-- I really AM evil), we went to Grandma and Grandpa's, as previously advertised. My dad had gone out and bought doughnuts in honor of our visit, and we'd definitely earned them. So we scarfed our doughnuts, and headed to the farm. Nan got to experience her first hayride. Her face was priceless-- she was amazed, and enthralled. She tossed hay in the air, and grinned from ear to ear. We chose our pumpkins, and after we purchased them we went to the barn to visit the baby animals. My sweet girl squatted down by the baby goats, and sang them the lullaby I sing her every time I put her to bed. So cute. All in all, a lovely outing. My parents enjoyed the time with Nan, and she thought it was extra-special to have Grandpa along. My dad is something of a workaholic, and doesn't get to go on outings like that very often. They had a ball.
Damn. She's coughing again, and crying for me. Off I go, to rock and soothe...

Today my one of my big parental fears was realized; my kid was in trouble, and I couldn't help her. Let me explain. We met friends at McDonald's for lunch, and the kids were climbing on the Playland structure like crazed monkeys. Nan was apprehensive about coming down to eat, but my friend's five-year-old son helped to guide her down. We ate, and the kids went back to their play. After 20 minutes or so, I asked Alex to go and guide Nan back down again. He helped her down from the very highest level, but she landed hard on her butt on the descent. This shook her confidence in his helping abilities, so she started to cry for me. From the top of the crazed hamster-maze of the playstructure. There is no way an average adult could squiggle her way up through the tiny spaces, and I particularly couldn't navigate these platforms. It was heartbreaking-- she stuck her fingers through the protective netting, and screamed for me. And all I could do was flail helplessly below her, pleading with her to follow Alex. She just clung harder to the netting and cried like her limbs were being severed. All the other parents looked on with sympathy, but there wasn't anything any adult could do. Finally, finally, a sweet seven-year-old boy offered to go up and help her. He was just big enough so she felt comfortable with him picking her up. He gently lifted her and carried down each level, as she wailed for me. It was the longest ten minutes ever. It seems silly and melodramatic now, but I can't describe the terrible feeling of her needing me, and me not being able to come to her aid. When she finally got down, she clung to me like a monkey. And I was hanging on to her for dear life, too. The whole way home she spoke about "the SCAREDY place". She was eager for her nap, and she slept for a long time. She didn't need me to sit in her room today-- but I needed to sit there for awhile.

It has been a busy week. And Nan and I are slogging through cold# 9,632. We've had a lot of just-the-two-of-us time this week, and I'm amazed by my daughter's ever-increasing vocabulary. And her comprehension. Car rides are particulary enlightening these days. For instance, this week I learned:
1) Dogs eat mustard. All dogs. This is, apparently, their primary source of nutrition according to my daughter. I have no idea where this came from-- she's never willingly eaten mustard, I doubt she could pick it out of a line-up of condiments.
2) She is a princess-girl. As in, "I not a (fill in the blank), I a PRINCESS-GIRL, MOMMY!" (I believe I said, "Okey-dokey, Artichokey", leading to "I not a ARTICHOKEY, MOMMY, I a PRINCESS-GIRL!") This makes me laugh.
3) There is a lot of weeping at pre-school, and it generally isn't her. She always has a tale of woe about some poor child weeping. And it's always told with great drama, complete with gestures and facial expressions.
4) When we get rid of our cats later this week, it's going to be ugly. For various reasons, we've decided to post ads on Petfinder to find the cats new homes, where they will be happier and get more attention, and we will have less cat hair/dander/ cat pee in the hallway. (Jay thinks some of our frequent colds could be allergy related-- I am willing to entertain this idea, especially as it rids our house of my archnemesis, Miles the peeing cat.) However, this decision has coincided with her new love affair with our pets. She spent the whole car ride home from school discussing the fact that Phoebe sometimes meows in the bedroom, and Daddy tells her to hush. We had to reenact this-- sometimes I was Phoebe and she was Daddy, sometimes I was Daddy and she was Phoebe-- and it nearly broke my heart and made me reconsider. Then, I stepped in two separate piles of barf and found cat poop on the bathmat in the space of six minutes. This stiffened my resolve.

We made a special visit to the Children's Museum today. We had Breakfast With the Witches-- it was a special event in honor of Halloween, and it included breakfast as well as a play and a trip through the Museum's Haunted Train. It was awesome. Breakfast was so-so-- the witches aren't very good cooks, I'm afraid-- but Natalie loved the play, and the train was cool. She was completely unaffected by the train until we reached the last car. We walked through cobwebs, past skeletons, and various other scary sights and she didn't even seem to notice them, but something scared her in the last leg of the trip. We couldn't figure out what made that different from every other thing we saw, but it was cool-- she just rode in Jay's arms for the last bit, and she was fine once we were out of there. I'm a little afraid she'll have nightmares tonight, and I'll regret my decision to take the toddler through the Haunted Train, even during the lights-on, friendly hour. We shall see.

I'm sitting in the quiet of Nan's room. She's having trouble falling asleep, so I sit. I sit and I rock and I type. This is a chance for me to study my girl close-up, without her speeding away. She's looking less like a baby and more like a girl every day. There are still traces of baby in her cheeks, and her sturdy legs, still... but she's growing up. And I'm generally okay with that. As long as I can sometimes sneak in and study her. It's hard to give up my baby. But I'm infinitely proud of the girl she's well on the way to become. I'm proud of her kindness, her sense of humor, her sweetness. I'm proud of her stubbornness, even when it's me she's stubbornly fighting. I'm proud of my big girl. She's finally settling into her nap, so I could head back to my desk. But I think I'll sit for a bit longer. For now, I'm welcome in her room. I know the day will come when my presence will be an irritant. But for now... I rock. And I sit. And I study.

I managed to finish my book club book late last night. I am reaffirmed in my choice of Tom Robbins' "Skinny Legs and All"-- it is a truly fantastic book. It's fun, and funny, and full of things that make you think. This is a wonderful quality for a book to possess-- except when
it's 11:45 p.m. and you're ready to sleep. I ended up lying in bed, awake,
for far longer than I wished, thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking. My brain is always busiest in the dark, when it SHOULD be resting. I mentally compose emails, write grocery lists, and extensive to-do lists. People to call, chores to accomplish. My husband lays down at the end of the day, closes his eyes, and sleeps. I am absolutely incapable of this. I think of all the things going on for the next few weeks, and try to plot more fun stuff. Then, I move on to the worries. Money, the potential slow leak in the slab in the master bathroom, money, Natalie's NEVER-ENDING cold, money, the stupid cat who pees in the hallway, money, the apparent oil leak in my car, and, of course, MONEY. I've already started the midnight fretting about our trip to Arizona at Christmas time-- how will Natalie travel? How much will the rental car cost? How much will I have to work while I'm there? Where will Natalie be sleeping there, now that she's outgrown the crib? Yes, I understand it's over TWO MONTHS away, but it's never too soon to fret about it. If I start the fretting now, it's possible I'll come up with solutions to some of the issues. At least that's my theory.

My daughter just brought me her faux fur stole, and the matching faux fur hat, and her feathered fan, and declared it her Pirate Outfit. She put the hat on, asked me to drap the stole (or the pirate scarf) over her shoulders, and waved the fan in front of her, shouting "ARRRRRRRRRR!" as she ran in circles. Toddlers are hilarious. Not sure what kind of pimp-looking pirates she's been seeing, but she's sure she's in proper pirate attire. Oh-- her stick horse has just been added to the ensemble. And fairy wings. Ahoy, matey.

Nan seems to be feeling better. She's a /little/ fragile, especially when she gets tired, but the sneezing is significantly reduced, and the coughing is better, too. I hate it when she's sick; it makes me feel so helpless. I would much rather be sick myself than watch her suffer. It gives me new perspective on my own mom-- she has had to watch me undergo several surgeries, and suffer in ways small and large on a daily basis. I didn't understand how this hurts her until I had my own baby. I can't imagine her hurting as I do, it makes me teary to think of it. I now have a better understanding as to why my parents have both, at different times, brought me "miracle cures", ranging from shark cartilage (eeewwwww... imagine dumping fishy powder into your morning juice-- GAG) to undiluted persimmon juice. They're both hoping to alleviete some of the pain. My dad suggests different strength building exercises, and my mom comes over and quietly does chores that I find difficult to do when Jay's not around. I used to get impatient with them and their well-meaning offerings, but now I accept them with a smile. Hell, I'll even try them. It makes my parents feel better, and it might make me feel better, too.

I am apparently absolutely unteachable. It was LESS THAN A MONTH AGO that I was convinced Nan's runny nose was simply allergies. I was wrong. Yesterday? Allergies, I told myself. When she woke in the night hacking her poor lungs out, I smacked myself in the head and resolved to call the doctor's office as soon as they opened. (I also had a dream that someone was standing over our bed, resulting in me screaming at the top of my lungs and scaring my husband. Sorry, honey. Umm... you passed the drill! The "wake when I scream" drill! Gold star!) So we trekked to Nan's pediatrician today, and we ended up seeing a different doctor in the practice, as our beloved Dr. O was out today. Dr. D was lovely, and Nan was a perfect patient. Apparently, the allergy attack is turning into a sinus infection, and we've caught it fairly early. And when I asked if she could go to school tomorrow, the doctor said as long as she wasn't running a fever, it's fine. Hurray! Way to absolve my guilt re. dance class! Thanks, Dr. D! So now we're giving Nan antibiotics, and the doctor is calling in a night-time cough syrup to help the poor baby sleep. She sounds worse than she feels, I think, so I'm hoping it will pass soon.

Second verse, same as the first...

I took my sick, snotty girl to dance class. Again. I know. I. Know. I REALLY think it's just allergies-- no green/yellow color, no fever (this time) and it's accompanied by watery eyes and the dark allergy circles, but ugh. It's gross. I did warn the teacher that she might need to keep a kleenex handy, and I mentioned to several of the moms that she was suffering from allergies, so I didn't get the "what the hell is wrong with you, lady?" looks I got last time. I'm so tired of snot. At least she's better about using the kleenexes on her own now-- I can just hand one back to her, and she'll wipe herself off. someday, soon, she'll be able to reach the box on her own. Someday, she'll stop using ME as a handy kleenex. Dare to dream.
One of the benefits of this allergy attack is that the girl actually wants to go to bed early, so Jay and I are able to catch up on some of the new! awesome! tv shows we've been taping. Hurray! I hate to let the tivo get so clogged, and I keep deleting Nan's backlog of 'Curious George' episodes to make room for the new episodes of 'Dexter'. Hee. It feels good to delete the shows we've watched NINE MILLION times, especially when it's replaced with something awesome.

We took Nan to the free(!) kid's matinee at a local theater yesterday morning, and it was a smashing success. It was the most recent VeggieTales movie, so that was a definite plus for Nan. She's been obsessed with the bloody VeggieTales series of late. We take out a stack of the DVDs at the library each week, and by the time the next Tuesday comes around, I'm speeding to the library to drop the stack off so I don't have to watch 'Dave and the Giant Pickle' ONE. MORE. TIME. It is a testament to the wittiness and cleverness of the movies that I haven't tossed any out the window. Yet. We did manage to talk her into 'Toy Story' for our Friday night movie-and-pizza extravangaza. Or, as she refers to it, "The Messy Room Movie". Which is technically accurate, and somewhat heartning-- maybe she'll grow into being a neat freak. That would be tremendously helpful. She sat through all of 'Toy Story', rapt, and didn't touch the pizza she helped me make. We're enjoying introducing her to our favorite children's movies, and the Pixar movies have been extremely popular. Hurray!
We had to have our picture taken for the church directory this morning. I dressed us all carefully-- Jay remembered to wear a shirt and tie, I wore a basic black shirt, and I put Nan in her colorful autumn-weight dress. /I/ did her hair this morning (sorry, Jay-- your hairdos are serviceable, but not picture-worthy), and I even put on lipstick. It started badly, when she cried from our house to church (about a 20 minute drive) because I didn't have her pacifier, which is only supposed to be used at home ANYWAY, and when we got out of the car she decided to wipe her snotty, teary face all. over. my. black. shirt. Growl. I did the best I could with a damp paper towel from the bathroom, but I have a feeling that our picture will appear in the directory with a perfectly groomed Jay and Nan, and me looking rather frazzled with faded lipstick and snot tracks on my shirt. At least it's an accurate depiction of our family.

I'm writing from Nan's room. Again. It's becoming a tradition. I lay her down, I leave the room, the party hats and noisemakers come out from under her mattress, I come back into the room, sit in the rocking chair in the corner, and she zonks out within seconds. I could probably leave now, but it's very peaceful back here. No phone, no yowling cats, no doorbell... in a weird way, I've come to enjoy the twenty minutes or so of peace every afternoon. And she's getting to sleep. I've probably set up something that will bite me in the butt, but for now, I'm gonna live with it.
I had a sanity-saving evening out yesterday, with my dear friend Sue. Sue and I have known each other since I was 15 and she was 16-- nearly twenty years. She became an adopted member of my family. We would spend hours with each other every day, and then go home and talk on the phone until our parents demanded we free the line. We have remained close, and we have been fortunate enough to meet at least once a month over the last few months-- no small feat with my work/kid schedule, and her three kid circus, now with a new job added on top. We drank beer, ate delicious soft pretzels, and laughed and laughed and laughed. I felt like a new person. And then today I got to meet my friend Pam for lunch-- I feel so decadent. Outings without the child TWO TIMES IN ONE WEEK! God bless preschool, and bless Grandma, to boot. But I feel recharged, and ready to tackle my toddler anew. Not literally. Figuratively. (Earlier this week, it was literal...) I forget how much I thrive on people. My job is great, and I'm glad I'm able to stay home with Nan and work, but I miss basic human contact with people to whom I'm not related by marriage or blood. Every time I have a lovely evening out, I resolve to do this more frequently, but it inevitably falls to the wayside as life intervenes. I hope that doesn't happen this time.

This has been a long week. Like, "it's Wednesday and it feels like next Thursday" long. Construction near our house severed our phone lines (!!!!), leaving us without phone service OR, more importantly, DSL. Which meant no internet service. Which meant I couldn't work. For a day and a half. I /did/ get the laundry folded, and the dishes washed, and Nan's lunch packed for school. And I got to take a nap. But it wasn't a happy nap... it was a "there's nothing I can do so I might as well sleep" nap. Grr. I am happy to report that services are back up as of this afternoon, so I /should/ be able to get my day's work in. I'm only about four hours short for yesterday. I packed Nan up and we met my mom for dinner, and then went on to her house, where I could work for a few hours while she played with Nan and then bathed her and got her ready for bed. Yay, Grandma! Jay's deep in the throes of auditions for the high school's fall musical, so he didn't get home until late last night. I must say, I have a whole new respect for all the teachers who did so much while I was in high school. The people who directed the plays, the band and choir directors who spent hours of precious afterschool and weekend time making sure everything went well, for little to no additional compensation. Now that my husband is one of those people, I feel like sending thank you notes to those teachers. I understand the family time that was sacrificed so the show could go on. As does my poor messy house. Something must give, and in our case, it's housekeeping. Hope Nan doesn't get eaten by a dust bunny.

I write this from Nan's room. She is supposed to be napping. She is not. I am definitely at my wit's end... how can you MAKE a kid sleep? Right now, my strategy is simply waiting her out-- I sit here and glare at her every time she makes a sound, and she eventually gives up and falls asleep. This is not a viable longterm solution. I prefer not to spend an hour or more of my precious afternoon time scowling at my progeny. And that's when it WORKS... yesterday, she was napless. We were due at a family party, so we eventually gave up on the struggle. Did we set a bad precedent? Does she think she can just outwait us now? I suppose I'll find out today...


Edited:
Ok... she fell asleep about 10-15 minutes after I got in her room. Hurray! I had to wake her for dance class. Booooooo. Now I'm dealing with the shortened-nap aftermath. We have had about seventeen bursts of tears since 4:30. Jay is coming home late. Send chocolate. And liquor. And a nanny.

Yesterday was Jay's birthday, so Nan and I decided to bake him a birthday cake. Rather, I decided to bake him a birthday cake and Nan sat at the counter and looked at some cheapo shape and color flashcards I picked up at Target. His favorite is german chocolate cake, so naturally I decided to bake a caramel apple upside-down cake. (Don't worry... he'll get his cake. I plan to bake the german chocolate one for his party on Saturday.) I had some apples that were about to go bad, so after some internet searching, the caramel apple cake seemed ideal. Silly me. I thought it looked easy. I ended up with four dirty pans and apple detrius all over the kitchen. And a crabby toddler who wanted to HELP NOW, MOMMY!! Sadly, there wasn't much she could do to help-- she couldn't peel or slice the apples, she couldn't make the carmel sauce on the stove, and I mixed the few ingredients for the cake portion in my Kitchenaid. She /did/ get to press the apple slices into the carmel sauce at the bottom of the pan, and that was super fun for her. She wanted to eat the cake right away, and was a little unhappy when Mommy explained that she had to wait for it to bake. I then moved onto dinner prep-- steaks with dijon-rosemary marinade, and bleu cheese spaghetti. Nan decided to "help" with dinner, too. Sigh. It involved her dropping the flash cards from great heights, crying and trying to reach the cards, me stopping what I was doing to retrieve the cards, and repeat ad infintum. Finally, Jay finished the video game he was playing (it was his birthday-- I let him play unmolested) and coaxed her into the living room. Then, GRANDMA arrived, and she was sufficently distracted for me to finish the meal. Dinner came together well, and the cake smelled heavenly. It tasted good, too-- to everyone but Nan. She took a bite, declared it "yucky" and refused to eat anymore. (She did, however, enjoy the bleu cheese spaghetti-- I was surprised! A rather potent taste for a two-year-old.) Oh, well. More for me. And Jay, of course.

Dance class went much better yesterday. We arrived FIFTEEN WHOLE MINUTES early... take a moment, and let that sink in. I. Was. Early. This is something of a miracle, on the scale of the loaves and the fishes. Anyway. We had time to enter the studio (first ones there!), put on her tap shoes and Nan got to run around a bit before class started. She made a friend, and I enjoyed chatting with her friend's mom. (I know!) We were the only ones openly mocking our inept dancers. It's good to know I'm not the only evil toddler parent. (C'mon... 2.5-3 year olds? Dancing? It's FREAKING HILARIOUS. It's like herding cats.) And, to top it off, I wisely started a crockpot meal earlier in the afternoon, so I didn't have to run around like a lunatic to get dinner together. Woot! Pardon me while I sprain something patting myself on the back.
Today we went to library story time-- it was good, overall. Nan was enthralled by the stories, and she loved singing the songs, singing out loud and strong on those she knew. Silly girl.
We're getting into a routine, and I must say I feel relieved. I hate not knowing what's happening from day to day, and that's how it's been for the last month and a half. We're busy, but busy is good for me. Now, if I could just figure out how to live on 3 hours of sleep... don't see that happening.

Did you know that when you yell at a child for crying, it MAKES THEM CRY HARDER? No? Well, now you know. My gift to you. It was a rough morning-- we were rushing around, trying to get ready to go to school. Wait. Scratch that. I was rushing around, trying to get ready to go to school, and Nan was crying about ridiculous things. The fact that her pink bunny was in the kitchen, when she wanted it in the bathroom with her. The fact that I gave her THE WRONG CUP. The fact that I gave her Dora yogurt when she wanted DIEGO yogurt. That was what caused the yelling. Sigh. It's okay now-- we made up, she went to school and had a great morning. I met a friend for lunch, and got to feel like a grown-up for a bit. That helped a lot.
This week, I met with my monthly book club. This has been a great addition to my life. I joined last fall, when I was starting to feel disconnected from the world at large-- working from home and hanging out with a toddler all day can make it difficult to get out of the house, and I needed to find a reason to leave. I found the group on meetup.com, and I really love it. It's an interesting mix of people-- we range from 25yrs old to 65yrs old. Men and women, married and unmarried, with kids and without. It's one of the few places in my life where I'm just Nikki, not Nan's mom or Jay's wife. It's lovely. Anyway, this month the leader asked me to bring a recommendation for the group's selection for next month. Usually, Elizabeth just brings a few ideas, and we vote, but she is getting tired of doing alll the legwork. I brought forward my idea, and the group agreed that we'd read it for October. Now that it's done, I'm having post-selection regret. I chose 'Skinny Legs and All', by Tom Robbins. This is one of my very favorite books. Ever. I'm wondering if I shouldn't have chosen a book so very close to my heart. It's kind of a kooky book, and I'm afraid it won't go down well with some of the older people in the group. I hope I don't feel personally attacked when they criticize the book. I might have been better off choosing something I hadn't read before, so that I wouldn't care so much if they dislike it. Ah, well. Too late now, huh? Hopefully, they'll all love it and I won't get all hurt-feelinged. If I'm asked to choose again, I'll choose a something a little less fraught.
Ok, one quick funny Nan story. Last night, my mom was here to help out with bath/bedtime while Jay was at choir practice. Mom was sitting on the couch, and Nan came to her and said, "Stand up, Grandma! You are a princess!" Mom laughed, and stood, and asked Nan,"And who are you?" Nan thought for a moment, and said, "I 'tending to be a MAN!" And then she asked the princess to dance. So Grandma the princess and Nan the man waltzed around our living room. They're crazy.

They only had to wipe her nose ONCE....That counts for something, right???*

Yesterday, I was that mom. The mom who comes running into the dance studio, five minutes late, frantically slapping tap shoes onto her child's feet, while scraping her unbrushed hair into a haphazard ponytail. Not only were we late, but we were late and SNOTTY. If it hadn't been the first class, I would've kept Nan home. What we thought was an allergy attack was shaping into a cold. As we got out of the car at the dance studio, she sneezed and blew snot allllll over her tutu and the carseat. I wiped her off as best I could with kleenex dug from the bottom of my purse, and we headed in to class. She entered the class late, so she was hesitant to join for the first few minutes. Poor kid. All the other girls were dancing, perfectly coiffed, not encrusted with bodily fluids... and then there was Nan. When the girls had to join hands, I cringed-- I could almost hear the intake of breath from the mom of the little girl holding Nan's hand. I was so happy that the teacher only had to interrupt class once to wipe the Nan's nose. (You know you've reached a new low when that's the bright spot of the day...) So, yeah, I made a completely awesome impression at our first dance class. I'm SURE they are eagerly awaiting what we'll bring next week. Maybe a nice intenstinal virus? Perhaps pinkeye? But you can bet your ass we'll be there fifteen minutes early. And I'll have her hair in a bun if it kills me.

PS-- When we got home, before dinner, my husband requested the thermometer. Nan felt a little warm, he said, and he was right-- she had a fever of 100. Yep. I'm a model parent.

*Props to my sister for the title... Thanks, Sly!

Ok, one quick thing... yesterday, Jay was talking to Nan before dinner. "After dinner, we'll go to Daddy's school and get some books, and then... would you like a surprise?" Nan's eyes widened, and she shouted, "A PONY???" Ummmm... we were thinking ice cream. Sorry, babe.

If you have a chance to see the Ringling Brothers' Circus, I recommend you RUN, don't walk, to the nearest ticket purveyor and check it out. Seriously. It completely RULED. There were cool animals, talented acrobats, and the best of all? Human. Cannonball. Not just ONE human cannonball-- but TWO human cannonballs, husband-and-wife human cannonballs at that. (Can you imagine? What if they were fighting just before being loaded into the cannon-- would Mrs. Human Cannonball nudge the mister juuuuust enough so he'd miss the mat? Just a thought.) Nan was absolutely transfixed. Even though we pushed her over an hour past her usual naptime, and patched together lunch from the concession stand and the contents of my purse, she held it together rather well. Big drama occurred when I refused to plunk down $20 (!!!!!!!) for a piece of light-up plastic crap that they brought out during intermission. She was ok with my "no" until the lights went down again, and she saw how awesome the plastic crap was allll lit up in the dark. She was PISSED-- she wanted one "WIGHT NOW!" Nuh-uh. I told her we could check out the souvenir stand on our way out, but I wasn't going to buy the stupid wand-y thing. She was eventually transfixed by the dancing dogs, and we watched the rest of the circus in peace. After, we stopped by the souvenir stand, as promised, and she chose a t-shirt. All was well. Today, she and Jay are off to our goddaughter's 3rd birthday party. It's a pony party, held at a state park nearby. They've got a great saddlebarn, and Nan is so excited to RIDE! PONIES! I'm not joining them... I've been under the weather since Thursday, and I'm taking the day to rest, and hopefully kick this bug. I managed to hold it together with pharmaceutical help at the circus, but I was dead for the rest of the day. I've eaten next to nothing for days, and while that's been good for the scale (5lbs lost... but I don't recommend the method), my energy is nonexistent. Hopefully, a day of rest will help.

School was a tremendous success. No tears at dropoff, and she cried when I came to pick her up. She's covered with purple marker and exhausted. She had an awesome day, and I enjoyed having the morning quiet so I could get my work done. I love school. Amen.

I realize that it's just the beginning of September, but I've been giving some thought to Halloween costumes. Not for me, but for Nan. (I'll probably wear my normal disguise-- rapidly aging mom. Spot the gray hair! Note the sharpei-like droop around the eyes!) She's very taken with superheroes of late, a tendency fed by a super cool exhibit at the Children's Museum and her comic-book junkie father. When she visited the comic book exhibit at the museum, she spent a good twenty minutes running around in one of the capes provided for dress-up purposes, shouting, "Don't worry, people! I SAVE DAY!" She spends a lot of time rescuing me, her stuffed animals, and any random stranger she runs across at the playground. (The looks on the faces of her rescued victims are amusing-- they're wondering what on earth the two-year-old is yammering about as she runs at them.) Thus, I've decided Nan should be a superhero of some sort for Halloween-- but which one? There's the usual complement of female superheroes-- mostly scantily-clad versions of the guys, with "girl" appended to the end of the name-- i.e. Spidergirl, Supergirl, etc. Then, there's the iconic Wonder Woman, but Nan's a little underdeveloped to take on that unitard. We could go the 'Incredibles' route, but she's really too small to know anything about any of those characters. What to do? Enter a new-ish cartoon on PBS Kids-- WordGirl. It's clever, educational, and Nan absolutely LOVES IT. A bonus-- the costume would consist of red leggings, red long-sleeved t-shirt, some sort of belt, boots, a cape and hood. Bam. Warm enough for Halloween, and perfectly respectable. And WordGirl is super cool. She flies, has super strength, and can define any word in the English language. So perfect for my book-loving girl. (I know-- she's two. But she spends a good portion of each day poring over her books, and we have lots of discussions about what letters make what sounds. For real.) She'll be all set for trick-or-treating. Too bad I won't let her eat candy. Ah, well... she'll have to pass the chocolate over to mom. I'll have earned it by taxing my meagre sewing skills with the cape-making. Do they pass out beer? I'll need that, too, after I sew.

Today was meet-the-teacher day at Nan's preschool. It was great-- gave her a chance to see her new classroom, meet the kind ladies who are in charge of her classroom, and see the other kids. Her beloved friend E was there; I had been concerned, because I didn't see her mom at the parent orientation, but they were there today, even though Nan really didn't seem to notice her. It's funny-- she spent the whole summer asking when she'd get to see E again, and today I don't think she even played with her. I was sorry to see one mom there. This woman goes to our church (the preschool is affiliated with our church), and her son is about four months older than Nan. Her son is something of a nightmare-- super aggressive, prone to crazy tantrums when he doesn't get his way, very uncooperative-- and his mom completely ignores his bad behavior. I was really hoping he wouldn't be in Nan's class, but it looks like he will be there. I was glad to see the teacher gently reprimand him when he grabbed a toy away from another kid, as his mom wasn't really paying attention to what was happening. I know it's common for kids at this age to grab-- heck, Nan just grabbed a train from another kid at the library yesterday-- but my concern is with the fact that his mom doesn't try to stop the behavior or correct it when it occurs. Ah, well, baby's first bully experience is just around the corner, I think. Ok. Time to take off the judgemental mommy hat. Overall, I was really happy with our morning. She had a lot of fun playing with the new toys, and she enjoyed talking to the other kids. I did find a few moms to chat with, and I think I might have made a connection with one mom in particular. It's so hard to make other mom friends-- it's like dating all over again. You don't know if you should give the other mom your number-- are you coming on too strong? It's ridiculous and crazymaking, just so you can find someone to talk to at the playground on a regular basis. I found myself second-guessing my outfit as I dressed this morning, 'cause you gotta look cool for the other moms. Sigh. The best part is Nan will be at school on Friday, for the WHOLE MORNING. They will feed her LUNCH. And then they will send her home EXHAUSTED, so she'll sleep allllll afternoon. I love school.

Jay and I decided to do a bit of dividing and conquering this weekend. My mom and dad went away for a much-needed mini-vacation, so our usual sitters were not available. We both REALLY wanted to see a movie, so on Sunday, while Nan napped, Jay saw 'Clone Wars' (ugh), and I saw 'Hamlet 2' while she napped on Monday. I was a little disappointed. I was expecting the most HILARIOUS thing ever to be captured on film, based on some of the reviews I've read. And some moments were absolutely laugh-out-loud, snort your soda funny. But, overall, it was only mildly amusing. I felt like I'd wasted my precious movie-going time on a 'meh' film. And, I got that damned "Rock Me, Sexy Jesus" song STUCK IRREVOCABLY in my head. I /really/ wanted to see 'Tropic Thunder', but Jay wants to see it, too, so we agreed to wait until we can see it together. Which will be on the 10th of never, if our September calendar is a precursor of things to come. He was kind of let down by 'Clone Wars', too-- we decided later that we would've been better off if we'd just seen the same movie separately, and discussed it later. Ah, well. I got to do one of my favorite things-- I loooove seeing movies by myself. I don't have to share my popcorn, I can sit wherever I want to sit, and if I really hate it, I can leave without compunction. I find it very soothing. I know some people feel weird or silly sitting alone in the theater, but I think it's fabulous. Who cares what the other people think? Rock me, sexy Jesus.

Ok... quick update re. the movie... in a complete 180 from yesterday, her behavior at the movie theatre was IMPECCABLE. We watched 'Wall-E', and it couldn't have gone better. She sat quietly, munched her illictly-smuggled goldfish, and watched the screen with wide eyes. As soon as the movie ended, she asked, "Robots AGAIN?" Pardon me while I explode with pride. I promise I'll clean up the mess.

In a fit of optimistic insanity, we decided to take a DAY TRIP to Chicago. With a two year old. "It'll be great," we said. "We'll get up just a little earlier than normal, drive three hours, hit the Shedd Aquarium shortly after it opens, eat lunch, head to our friends' house to give the kiddo a nap and visit, eat dinner, and head home! It's foolproof!" Suckers. First, we woke up a liiitle later than planned. And by we I mean me. I woke up later. I just couldn't drag my sleepy butt out of bed until 6:45a, the time we were planning to wake Nan and get her fed and dressed and out the door. So, we didn't leave the house 'til 7:20a. We decided to hit the doughnut shop for a special road-trip breakfast, so we REALLY didn't hit the road until close to 8a. We wisely invested in a portable DVD player, so Nan was perfectly happy to watch Nemo and his friends as we sped down the road. As we approached Chicago, we encountered construction on the interstate, so it quickly became stressful as I attempted to navigate and Jay tried to maneuver through the heavy Labor Day weekend traffic. We finally, finally reached Chicago, and found parking close to the aquarium. We had to walk a bit to reach the fish, but we got there. And found a long line. We patiently waited, purchased tickets ($25/adult, thank GOD she's under three and still free-- yikes) and were ready to look at fish! And our kid went nuts. She was running wildly, refusing to hold our hands or even stay close to us. In the crowd, it was tough to keep track of our tiny girl. We decided to head to the reefs exhibit, in the "underground" part of the aquarium, in hopes that it would be SLIGHTLY less crowded. It was, and after a quick talking-to, Nan quieted down and enjoyed the sights. As we progressed through the exhibit, she started to fall apart again. A quick glance at the time confirmed my thought-- hungry kid. When she gets hungry, she turns into demon-spawn. We hurried to the food court, spent another fortune on pizza, breadsticks, and fruit, and settled in to eat. My good girl returned to me, and the demon-spawn left the building until the next mealtime. We looked through the rest of the aquarium in relative peace, and headed to visit our friends. She fell asleep in the car, and we were able to lay her down at M and K's with no trouble. She woke earlier than we expected, and we were able to visit the beach! The condo is right next to Lake Michigan, and we were able to run and play along the shore. She got to feel the water on her feet, and squish in the sand. It was amazing. She had so much fun. After an hour or so, I remembered that we didn't have any sunscreen (bad mommy!), so we headed back to the condo. M and K's baby girl was just starting to wake, so we were able to visit with the baby, much to Nan's delight. She loves babies, and loves to pretend that her bear is a baby. She watched M rock with the baby, and mimicked his motions with her bear. So sweet. We decided to head to dinner, and everything fell apart. We went to a local middle eastern restaurant, and I planned to give Nan a mish-mash of food from my plate and Jay's, and supplement with snacks I brought from home. We got to the restaurant, and it was hot. So very hot. My girl doesn't do well with hot. Then, when our food arrived, she declared everything "yucky" and refused to take a bite. I finally coaxed her into eating some blueberries and crackers I had brought from home, but that was all she ate. She ran out of milk, and the restaurant had no more. The unholy tantrum began. My poor, sainted husband stood up suddenly, grabbed our ill-behaved child, and marched her butt to the car. M, K and I finished our dinner, and I went out to relieve Jay. He was sitting grimly in the backseat, while Nan chattered away happily in her carseat. I offered to let him go back in, but he refused. Nan asked to go back, so we reached an agreement that involved shoes but no socks, and Daddy carrying her. Logically, we understood that her bad behavior was due to exhaustion. This is a child used to 2 1/2-3 hour daily naps, and she barely got 45 minutes. But. Our logic was trumped by the seething anger and embarrassment that follows a tantrum. Especially in front of friends who haven't seen her since she was 4 months old. Who don't know that her usual restaurant behavior is beyond reproach. Who have an infant of their own, and are looking at our kid wondering, "Is this what's in store for us, or is their kid just an asshole?" Ok, probably not the last part. But still-- the anger was there, and I think it took all my husband had to keep from spanking her little butt in the parking lot. We paid the bill, and headed back to M and K's to change the kid into her jammies and say our goodbyes. Once she learned we were going home, she turned back into her usual sweet self. She was pleading to go home to sleep "in my PRINCESS bed, peeeeease?" Poor kid. We got in the car at last, put in her 'Curious George' dvd, and headed home. Thank god. Hours and hours and hours later (so it seemed), after more crazy detours and frequent wakings from the backseat with tearful pleas for the princess bed, we were able to collapse into our own (non-princess) bed. And I have promised my husband we won't attempt another trip like that until she's much older-- say, 16.
After her nap today, as we are apparently sadists, we plan to take her to the movies for the first time. God help us all.

Lately, every animal that Nan sees is named "Angel". No matter the species, animate or inanimate, if you ask her, "What is the name of that doggy/kitty/horsie?", the answer is inevitably, "Angel". We have no idea where she got the name-- we don't know anyone with a pet named Angel, I can't think of anything she's seen on TV that might prompt it, and we've never called HER that. It's just something weird that popped out of the tangled yarn of her brain. It's kind of hilarious. She pretends to put great thought into deciding on the animal's name, and then comes up with Angel EVERY TIME. And if there's more than one animal? They're Angel and Other Angel. And if there are three? The third is... you guessed it... Other Other Angel. I think I will die of shock the day she comes up with something new.
We met Jay for an early dinner last night-- he had Open House at school, and wasn't able to make it home for dinner. She got to experience the wonder of chocolate chip pancakes at Perkins. Sigh. Stupid kid's menus with stupid color pictures of all the stupid food I don't particularly want her to ever, ever know about. Ah, well. The chocolate chips were mostly contained to the ear portion of the bear-- sort of coloring in his ears-- so she really didn't get much chocolate with the pancake. And she doesn't like syrup, so that was ok. And, she ate her entire fruit cup. (Listen to mommy justify her kid's crappy dinner...oh, and there was milk! Tasty, healthful, white milk. Good ol' 2%.) After we left the restaurant, we went to play at grandma's. It was a win-win-win. Nan got some undivided attention, Grandma got her Natalie fix, and I got to read the paper and eat oreos. Score. Even better, Nan actually got a bath even though Jay wasn't getting home until after her bedtime. One of the many lovely features of rheumatoid arthritis is an inability to get up off the floor unassisted, so I'm unable to bathe the girl. This generally isn't an issue-- it's nice for Jay and Nan to have that time together every day, and they have fun splashing around. But, when school starts and Jay gets busy with the extracurriculars, it can get kind of dicey. We're at an age when a bath is pretty necessary every day, to scrape all the yogurt off the filthy child. But. Sometimes a quick swipe with a baby wipe is all the kid is gonna get. We persevere.

Self-inflicted madness

I had something like an epiphany last night. Jay called to tell me he had to make a few stops before heading home after teaching guitar lessons, which would mean he'd arrive sometime after 7pm. Dinner is traditionally served by 6:30pm at our house; any later, and my daughter starts with the face-meltingly irritating whining, and I start to consider selling her to a roving band of gypsies. So, I was less than pleased when Jay said he'd be late. You might say I was pissed. However, his errands were completely legitimate-- in fact, one was for me-- and it was really stupid, as well as pointless, for me to be angry. So I decided to continue with my dinner prep and Natalie and I would eat when it was done. He could warm it up when he got home. It was like I flipped a switch in my brain... I could be angry and snippy and passive aggressive while we all ate together, or I could have a pleasant, hot meal with Nan, and he could have his food later. Duh. I still feel very strongly about our family eating together, and we will eat most meals together, but I'm tired of making myself crazy to make it happen EVERY DAY. It was incredibly liberating. So, I happily prepared risotto and foil packets with tuna steaks and veggies. (A sidenote-- this is my new favorite way to fix any kind of fish and even chicken. It's competely mess-free, and so fun to come up with different veggie-spice-herb combos. And did I mention mess-free? Wad up the foil and throw it away, and the dishes are done. Awesome. ) (A sidenote to the sidenote-- did I say it was fun to come up with veggie combos? I am officially old and lame. Literally and figuratively.) It turned out that he showed up just as I was getting the plates out to serve dinner, so all was well in the end, but the fact that I was fully prepared to eat without him made all the difference in my attitude toward him. The crazy thing is that he would not have ever had a problem eating after we did-- it was entirely something I put on myself. I don't know if he noticed that my mood was better than it was during the initial phone call, but I know I did. It was a happier evening than the previous one, because I decided to make it so. And, we managed to take a walk without my daughter bleeding HER OWN BLOOD, which was just icing on the cake.

Therapy

Yesterday was not a good day. The morning started badly when Nan woke before 7am, and shouted until I set her free. I took the fastest shower ever as she ate her breakfast, and settled down to do some work while she played. After a couple of hours, she was desperate to leave the house, so I decided we'd head to the playground to eat our lunch and play for a bit before naptime. Because I'm a nice freakin' mom. I was a little irritated by her lack of interest in lunch, but shrugged it off, figuring if she were truly hungry, she'd eat. As naptime approached, I went to gather my child so we could head home. She was less than compliant. And by "less than compliant" I mean "a total demon-spawn who screamed NO at me from the very top of the very, very high playstructure." This is where things get tricky-- unlike most moms, I cannot just scramble up there, grab her wayward butt and drag her to my car. I had to stand ineffectually at the bottom of the steps, my voice getting louder and my threats more ridiculous as the minutes ticked away. Eventually, I started (carefully) climbing the steps up to the slide, hearing my orthopedic surgeon's scolding voice in the back of my head-- at this point, Nan's eyes grew wide as she assessed just how dire the situation was going to be when I eventually got to her. I told her in a low, mean-mommy voice, "The higher I get, the angrier I get. If I were you, I'd come down to me RIGHT NOW." Finally, finally, she started her descent. Thank god. I knew I couldn't climb any higher than I already had; fortunately, she didn't know that. When I could reach her, I grabbed her arm and guided her down to a level where I could pick her up, and I carried her to the picnic shelter, where I staged an impromptu time-out. I'm not sure who it was for-- me or her. I was frustrated by her attitude, and embarassed that I couldn't control my two-and-a-half year old in front of the other parents at the playground. We got to the car at last, and she told me she was ready to go home and take a nap. I told her I was ready for her to go home and take a nap, too. I spent the afternoon in peace, working, and Jay finally called around the time he usually arrives home to let me know he'd be late. Sigh. Nan woke from her nap, and she was even fouler than she'd been in the morning. At this point, I was less than sympathetic. I did allow her to lay on my lap and watch TV while I worked, until Jay arrived home. He promptly sat in the recliner and took a nap. Bastard. I went to the kitchen to start dinner, and heard Natalie asking the now-comatose Daddy to play with her. I listened to her pleas for awhile, and then I came to intervene, prompting a grumbled diatribe against me from my husband. Near tears, and pressed for time to get dinner prepared before pre-school orientation, I started to make mashed potatoes. Traditionally, I use my electric mixer to mash potatoes, but I decided to break out my relatively new masher. It was awesome. I wished I had a couple more pounds of boiled potatoes to pound. I took out all of my frustration-- with Nan, with Jay, with my own stupid body-- on little soft red potatoes. I mashed, and I mashed, and I added milk and butter, and I mashed a little more for good measure. I felt better than I had felt all day. It's my new favorite form of therapy. I'm looking at our schedule for the next few weeks, and seeing how busy we'll be and how much Jay will be gone-- I think we're going to be eating a lot of mashed potatoes.

Bleurgh

We've been talking about our feelings at our house lately. Not in a weirdo, touchy-feely kind of way, but a more concrete, explanatory way. When Nan is unable to fasten her sandals properly, I say, "Wow, you must feel frustrated, huh?" And when she wants to stay up and watch a little more "Blue's Clue's" rather than go down for her nap, we talk about how sad or angry she feels when I tell her nuh-uh, kid, naptime is SACRED. Mommy needs to eat lunch and watch some crappy tv uninterrupted. I didn't realize that our words were having much of an effect upon her until today. After we made a run to the grocery store, Jay decided to stop at the carwash. Nan really has a love/hate relationship with the carwash... she hates it until we get into the tunnel-y thing, and then she remembers she loves it. Anyway, she was expressing her wish to go home and eat lunch, but Jay told her we had to visit the carwash first. She began to sob, pleading with us to go home. It culminated in her crying, "I'm getting SO SAD right now!" We found that to be simultaneously heartbreaking and hilarious. Mostly hilarious. I told her she used the word properly, and commended her for sharing her feelings... but sorry, kid, no dice. The car is filthy. She lived, and in fact had a fun time spotting the stuffed animals the car wash guys hang throughout the tunnel. As usual. Later this evening, on our usual evening walk, she tripped over her sandal and went flying through the air, landing square on her knees. She was scraped and bloody, and when we got home to clean her up, she was hysterical at the sight of her own blood. (I was a little shaken, too-- she's NEVER bled that much... poor baby.) While Jay bathed her knees, she screamed, "I so SCARED right now, Daddy!" Saddest. thing. ever. Again, we told her she was doing a great job expressing herself, but daddy had to clean her scrapes or she would get sick. It's so cool to realize that she's able to help us understand how she feels, and it's kind of an awesome responsibility for us to help her have the proper words to make us understand her.

THAT girl

Last weekend, there was an open house at a local dance school. The only dance school in the area with classes for 2 1/2 year old children. The dance school at which I hope to enroll Nan for the fall. I decided it might be fun to check the place out before the lessons start in the fall, so I packed up the car and we headed out. The drive was uneventful, and she was so excited at the prospect of visiting the dance school. We found the building with no trouble, and as I approached the school, I heard pandemonium. We walked into a cram-jammed waiting area, and and even crazier studio area. It wasn't so much an open house as an opportunity to buy all the equipment necessary for class-- ballet shoes, tap shoes, leotard, tights, skirt, etc. We got into line to start the rotation around the room. I let Nan run around for a little while, until I started to approach the shoe station. I called her name, expecting her to join me-- no such luck. I smiled apologetically at the family behind me, and ran to grab my wayward kid. She was not thrilled to join me, to put it mildly. She threw an unholy tantrum--- picture pea soup pouring from her face. That kind of tantrum. I picked her up and hissed threats into her ear, but I stayed in line. As she sobbed. And yelled, "I DOWN RIGHT NOW!!" I felt the death ray glares of other parents, and I could practically hear them thinking, "Hope that kid isn't in MY kid's class!" As we approached the shoes, a girl indicated I should seat Nan on a bench so we could fit her for ballet shoes. My daughter screeched as if we were tearing out her toenails, and clung to my neck. Sighing, I squatted as well as I could to allow the poor dance school girl to reach my kid's feet. She quickly fitted the ballet shoes, and moved on to tap shoes. Tap shoes. I was convinced Nan would be thrilled-- she's been calling her dress-up mary janes 'tap shoes' for months now, and she's constantly staging shows on the linoleum in our entryway. But no-- the tap shoes were greeted with the same wails of displeasure as the ballet shoes. Fed up at this point, I dragged her to the leotard station, picked up tights and a frilly skirt, and joined the mile-long queue to pay. I was steeling myself for the battle ahead, and casting about for the proper mix of threat/bribery to make her keep it together while we waited. She saw some little girls sitting on the couch looking at books, and asked if she could join them. I agreed, and was pleasantly surprised that she managed to stay quiet and still for the next thirty minutes. $85 and 40 minutes later, we were heading back to the car. Thank god. As I loaded her into the car, she smiled widely and begged me to put her new ballet shoes on her feet. Arrrgggghhhh. Next time? We are sooo taking Daddy with us. I refuse to suffer alone again.

End of Summer

So, Nan will be heading back to preschool for her second year in just a few short weeks. The problem? How to fill the days between her dad's return to school and her first day in the Wednesday-Friday Two's class. She became accustomed to a pretty strenuous schedule of FUN! FUN! FUN! under Dad's jurisdiction, and the thought of sitting at home all morning doesn't appeal to her anymore. Sigh. She starts every morning with a question-- "Where are we going TODAY, Mommy?" This wouldn't be a problem, if I weren't also working full time from home. I must try to find enough hours in the day to entertain Nan, keep up the house, make meals, and work 8+ hours. And get to bed at a reasonable time. All while fighting the exhaustion that accompanies most RA patients. I know I am by no means unique in my lack of energy-- all moms feel the same way, to varying degrees. And I'm lucky to have a fantastic, helpful, hands-on husband and Nan's super-eager grandma nearby. But... it's tough. Since my second hip replacement, it's a lot easier to keep up with Nan on the playground, so that's been our hangout of choice the last few weeks. It's fascinating to watch her learn the playground etiquette-- taking turns, sharing, et cetera. And I love her attitude. When we approach the playground, and she sees all the children, she starts to wiggle in her seat, shouting, "LOOK, MOMMY! FRIENDS!" I love that she automatically assumes all children are her friends. I hope she always feels that way.