Baby Blueberry Turns Two

            Navigating Life Or Did I Ever Tell You About My Mad Map Skills

I Can Do It Myself

        Why is it the thing we want them to do so badly is the thing that breaks our heart? I want my children to be independent. Strong. Kind.

(Although I did not see that yesterday in Bean's and Abu's behavior with each other. Which lead me to ignoring them for an entire afternoon, which was followed by them trying to make dinner, watching the Baby so I could have a break(which translates into a sulk while I contemplated why I had kids), and wait for it...being super nice to each other.)

        But back to my sappy blog about how I'll miss them when they're independent, even while I'm super mad at them for being mean to each other. Only in parenthood can we feel a dozen different emotions about our children -SIMULTANEOUSLY.

Mmm, that's not right. Relationships. It's in relationships that we can feel more than one emotion at a time. So preschool really screws a person up. Because the teachers holds up a card that depicts SAD, MAD, HAPPY, or CONFUSED and tells the child that when they have that face on, that is the emotion they are experiencing.

The teachers don't pull out the cards where it shows you can experience sad and happy at the same time. Or mad and love. Or confused and every other emotion with it. No one explains that you can experience happy for someone with envy. Or intense love for your spouse at the same time you're volcanically mad over some situation. (Usually involving one of three things: money, parenting styles, or stealing the covers. I'm starting to think people should give HIS/HER comforters as wedding presents.)

So parenthood involves having your heart experience sweeping waves of being proud of your kid for doing normal everyday things such as eating with a fork or walking - at the same time you're sure they will grow up, move out and never come to visit.

Which BTW- we had to tell the teenager, Bean, good job with eating with a fork the other night. She couldn't understand why we were praising the Baby for EATING. She wrinkled her nose at us and laughed. Point taken and she joined in telling Baby Blueberry what a big girl she was for using a fork and not throwing all her food on the floor.


But anyway, we want our children  ready to navigate the world and follow their dreams. Even though we start to miss them with every little step they take towards that goal.
 
  And it starts so young. Before they start to walk but you can really see it when they finally figure out the sweet success of putting one foot in front of the other. A task we take for granted, but one that took each and every one of us many times of falling down and trying again.

 
    Baby Blueberry took quite a while to walk. Crawling was her mode of transportation. She was speedy too. She could crawl faster than most other babies could walk. And so she didn't learn to walk until after her first birthday.
   Why? It was slow and torturous. Falling down. Bumping. It took forever to wobble over to the object she wanted, whereas with crawling she could reach her destination in no time at all.
   Why change the status quo? She was perfectly happy without walking.

   And then, one day, it finally occurred to her. Heck yes, walking was faster.

  She hasn't slowed down since.  So even though every baby moment I knew we would have, I tried to savor because I knew from past experience it would move oh, so fast, -it still flew by and now my Baby is a toddler.

   My oldest is a teenager and my Abu is starting to show signs of being a teenager. (hint: drama, mood swings, and demanding more independence)

  One time, long ago, Hero Hottie and I drove down to Texas. I was navigating, thinking that my map reading skills were so awesome. I managed some of the other smaller states pretty well, until I told Hero Hottie we had about three hours in Texas to reach our stop for the night.

  Three hours later and we still have a whole lotta of Texas to drive through. Hero Hottie pulls over, an impatient Baby Bean in the back, and studies the map.
   He starts laughing.
   At me.
   I had misread the scale to measure miles, which had changed since Texas is so much bigger than the other states. My inch of Texas included so many more miles than my inch of the other states.

   He pats my knees, trying to be encouraging and avoid a fight.
   I haven't lived it down but my map reading skills have gotten better since that trip.

   But sometimes I think life is like that. I'm always using the wrong scale to determine the length of my journey.

    So somewhere this blog entry is about the confusion that is life. How super excited I am that it is Baby Blueberry's 2nd birthday tomorrow and how melancholy it is making me feel.

  
   But mostly this blog entry is about how fast life moves, especially after they learn to walk. Because then it's all about chasing them until they move out.
  
   And teaching them map reading skills.

   Oh, and that Texas is a huge state.

There is a Brachoisaurus in my Shower

Abu's House (copyright Christy Hammond)

    As Abu tries to zip up her backpack this morning, she grins; a mischievous look I haven't seen in weeks; and says, "I have too much useless stuff in here, Mom. It won't zip up."
     I frown, peering at her backpack. "Isn't it full of your homework from last night?"
    Her grin widens. "Exactly. Useless stuff."
    She waits for me to laugh at her joke, her expression barely shifting away from her humor, but it's there, a slight crease in the smile as she waits anxiously for me to respond.
   I chuckle, because it is funny, especially if you look at it from a kids' point of view and not as a parent. How many of us have briefcases full of necessary 'useless stuff'?
 
   Her expression relaxes and she finishes zipping up her backpack; her mood light and cheery. Score a point for Mom this morning.
    I grew up as the bossy first child who knew (knows) everything. :-) I wasn't the middle child and I certainty wasn't the baby of the family. I was so opinionated about things, that I didn't even believe that there was positions of childhood.
   Until Baby Blueberry came along. And Abu slipped into the role of middle child like it had been hers for the taking since she was little.
   But I'm not going to talk about how difficult that place has been for her; not today anyway. I'm just going to simply share the wonders of Abu. So one day, when she's old enough, and she comes across the crazy, zombie filled ramblings of her blogger Mom, she will finally realize what I see in her.

   Abu came into this world like lightening. And that is what I tell her. Out of all my labors, hers was by far the easiest and quickest. Six hours of light pushing and laughing, anxiously awaiting baby. Forty minutes of hard labor and there she was. Adorable, cute, and with such a petite nose.
    The next day we took her home, where an excited Bean was so overjoyed to have a baby sister. And over the next two years, while Abu grew into toddlerhood; I spent a lot of time chasing after Bean and Abu and cleaning up after all their antics.
  Bean was the instigator. But Abu wasn't innocent. She would quietly watch, and laugh, and clap her hands, loving every idea Bean came up with and happily joining in the trouble.
  
    One time when Bean was four and Abu was two, they decided to decorate the couch. And not just a little bit of it, the entire back seat of it. Eight long, irresistible feet of white floral fabric apparently just asking for more color.  Hero Hottie and I walk into the living room to find them standing on the couch, fiercely scribbling away as quickly as their little pudgy arms would go. The entire length was 'decorated' with blue and RED crayon. They grinned at us and showed us their Artwork. Two chubby face smiles, dimples in their cheeks and joy in their eyes.

  Abu, being only two and discovering the joy of crayons and color decided to do more decorating around the house on her own. We had just moved into our house and finished hanging up all the picture frames. One day, there is a drawing underneath one of the them.
     In black crayon.
      Bean insisted that she didn't do it. But Abu won't confess either. The next day, again another drawing underneath another picture.
   Bean is my main suspect because she's four and usually tries to find trouble when I'm not looking.
But she's still insisting it's not her.
  A few more days, this goes on, which is difficult to believe because I don't hardly ever leave them alone in the room, just while moving between rooms and cleaning. But there are scribbles under nearly every picture in the house and still I can't find the black crayon.
   Or the culprit.
   Then one day, I leave the room and wait a few minutes. Quietly, I sneak back into the living room, and there she is...
    Abu, black crayon in hand, underneath a picture, adding her own art to the walls.

    Abu of a thousand expressions, always making faces for my camera. Always passing out smiles to those who have lost there's.

   When Abu was five she had her first loose tooth. And the joy she found in that one simple event is the spirit of her and something I hope is never destroyed or tainted.

   But one day, while she was eating breakfast, or at least attempting to, she stops, frowns and says to me, “There’s something wrong with my tooth. It hurts.” At first I thought that her chipped tooth had worn down enough to cause her pain.

            “Open up.” I said and started looking at teeth. I wiggled one of the front ones. Nothing. Then I wiggled the one next to it and it wiggled. Just a bit, but enough.

            I grinned. “You have a loose tooth.” 

            She grins back, “I do?”

            I nodded and watched her grin grow. “I have a loose tooth.” She says and feels it with her finger and her tongue.

            “This is such a happy day for me.” She says. “I’m having a happy day.”

            And she whirls around the living room, smiling and talking about her tooth.

    

    The other day I go to take a shower and there is a solid plastic, eighteen inch brachoisaurus in my shower. I'm not sure what the creature was waiting for. All his other dinosaur buddies were on the other side of the tub, taking up valuable floor space in our tiny bathroom. But there he was, as if patiently waiting for another bath time. 

   Abu is slowly outgrowing play time with toys. Less and less, she spends time with toys, and so for many years, I cleaned up toys, straightened toys, put away toys, yelled at children to put away toys and then one day, the house was not being taken over by Barbies, dinosaurs, and Polly Pockets. 

    I grinned at the dinosaur in my shower and was glad to see him there. Just a small reminder that Abu isn't totally grown yet and I have time to enjoy her childhood. 

   She drew me a picture of our house. A house that I feel is too small sometimes, or missing character, or isn't quite my dream house. 

   But when I look at that picture...I see something immensely wonderful. I see how the pine tree out front is given a bit of the spotlight, because she has spent hours playing under its branches. I see the light colored door ready for its family to arrive home. I notice the furniture inside where we have dinners together. The hose container out front, which holds the hose that we play with in the summer. 

    I see an inviting house. 

    A house full of love and spirit. And it warms my heart.

    And that's what Abu, if she should ever read this, needs to remember. Part of that house full of love and spirit comes from her. 

   Wonderful, joyful Abu.

  

A Valentine's Day Disaster

    Sorry for the delay. Life has thrown me a few curve balls in the last few weeks which I will be sharing in the next few weeks, just not today.
    I rather share my Valentine's Day with you. Funny and a disaster and a reminder of parenthood. Ahh, Hallmark where is the Valentine's card to give your spouse that reads, "I love you no matter what. Through plugged sinks, and broken roofs. Through unexpected surprises and piles of bills. I love you even when we're too tired to kiss and an exciting evening is watching House Hunters together. But mostly I love you because you're you."

    Hero Hottie always brings his girls flowers. For me it depends on the budget, sometimes just a single rose; other years a bouquet.
    He brings Bean and Abu a single rose, usually yellow or pink.
    This year he found roses that were injected with bright, rainbow colors in the stem just before they bloomed. When the petals unfolded they have soaked up the dyes and are a brilliant array of colors. The girls loved them.
     At the end of the day we usually try to hang out or if we're lucky we sneak away for a dinner date.
    This year we were reminded that we are parents.
    And we were grateful for the end of the day.

    This tale starts last December. Bean and Abu, ever the creative type of kids (think Phineas and Ferb, but without the endless budget and better haircuts) decided they were going to make perfume for Christmas presents.
     Yes, perfume. Bean and Abu style. Here's their recipe...

     Step One: Search the kitchen and recycling for any kind of glass container that Mom will let you have. Spice bottles area great but don't ask Mom to empty them so you can have them.
      Step Two: Collect any sort of shampoo, soap samples, spices and lotions that smell good. Don't ask Mom if you can use her expensive face cream, you will be greeted with 'the Look.'
      Step Three: Lock yourself in the bathroom and make your perfume.
      Step Four: Give as presents. Remind people that perfume is not edible.

      Since they weren't mixing toxic stuff together I let them happily create until bedtime. And then I demanded they clean the bathroom until I couldn't tell they had been in there. Which, surprisingly, they did.

      Fast forward to Valentine's Day. For the past few weeks the bathroom sink has slowly been trying to plug up. I dumped vinegar and baking soda down it and that seemed to help for a while and then two days before the fourteen it just completely plugged up and would not drain. It is totally and completely gross to have your bathroom sink clogged and unusable. Growing germs in the bathroom sink-YUCK. So the first day Hero Hottie had off, which unfortunately was Valentine's Day, he emptied the sink and then cleared everything out from underneath the sink.
     Then he was faced with the unpleasant and stinky and lovely task of taking the piping apart to try to find the clog. The pipes under the sink were clear. Great. This meant the plug was deeper into our crappy, old house pipes. He bought acid to stuff into the piping, so it would eat away the blockage. It helped but it also ate part of the bottom of the cupboard too.
     He still had a plug though. He run the snake through the pipes, pulling out some nasty, black stuff. But it was still plugged.
     Five hours later and after recuiting my Dad to help...They managed to stuff enough acid stuff down the pipes to loosen the plug and bring it up with the snake.
     It took nearly all of Hero Hottie's day off.
     We took a look at the object that had caused all this grief. At first it appeared to be a piece of cloth but upon further investigation we realized what the offender was...
     A Baby Wipe.

     I took a deep, calming breath. Which kid stuffed a baby wipe down the sink? They knew better. I know they did.
     "Girls, who put a wipe down the sink?" I asked, actually calm. Of course, I hadn't spent all day trying to clear the clog.
     "I didn't." Bean quickly says. So I look at Abu, who is quietly looking away from me. Avoiding my eyes.
     Guilty!
     "Abu?" I was surprised.
     "Yeah. It was me. I didn't mean to through." She looked sheepish as she shrugged her shoulders, and I could tell she was clearly remembering when she had lost the baby wipe down the sink.
     "When did this happen?"
     "When we were making perfume. It went down the drain."
     "Last Christmas? Why didn't you say anything?"
     "I didn't want to get in trouble. And the sink was still working."

     The sink kept working until enough stuff caught around the baby wipe and completely plugged things up. I told Hero Hottie how the wipe ended up ruining his day off.
    He didn't say much. Guys aren't in great moods after spending all day having to be plumbers.
    But Bean and Abu have been banned from making perfume in the bathroom now.
    They didn't even complain. I think they knew from Dad's mood, they had been lucky not to be banned from using the bathroom at all. And they felt bad for being the cause of so much plumbing problems.

    By the time we cleaned up the bathroom, fed the girls and put them to bed; we were both exhausted and ready for the end of a long day. Hero Hottie bought us carry-out and we ate our Valentine's Day dinner while watching House Hunters.
     Too tired to talk much and too disappointed that our day had been a mini disaster. But really, where is the chapter in the marriage manual that warns that one day all your romantic intentions will be thwarted by a plugged bathroom sink and a baby wipe.
     And kids making perfume, two months earlier.
   
     Parenthood should come with a warning.

   "Warning: Kids will reduce an adventurous and fun couple to eating carry-out in front of HGTV, while the only conversations they share revolve around the nasty stuff coming from plugged sinks."

All Tickets Have Been Sold for The Sanity Boat

     Hero hottie is a great guy. He's helpful, playful, and always tries to do the right thing.
     What he isn't though is...patient. And maybe it's a guy thing, since males always seem to be loud and active and building things or tearing things down. Or perhaps it's a parent thing, we get so busy we can't seem to slow down.
      And maybe that's just the way he is. But he tries to hide it, contain it, not let it control him.
     'Tries' is the word here.
    
      Children though...they know and they're not afraid to tell you like it is.
      
      So one day, about a year and a half ago, hero hottie, CT and I were at Borders. (Ahh, I miss that bookstore.) We were browsing and lingering and not in any great hurry for once. But it didn't matter, CT goes toddling over to her Uncle, with the most serious look on her face.
      "Here is your patience, Uncle." She pinches her fingers together like she's picking something up from the palm of her hand and carefully, as not to drop any, hands it to him.
     "What?" He asks, studying her tiny fingers.
     "I have some patience for you, Uncle. Here take it." And she tries to hand him the invisible patience that she held so delicately in her hand.
     He laughs hard and lets her put the 'patience' in his hand. She grins at him, clearly satisfied that he has some patience now.
    Lesson learned.

  

   The other day I was busy. So busy that not even coffee could help, nor chocolate.

   Perhaps a personal assistant. I would have taken one of those.

   I was watching four children all from the ages of 10 years down to a year. While I was trying to feed them a snack, keep them entertained and keep Bug from eating every thing off the ground, because she truly hopes it's a bug and she will try to eat it...I was also taking photos of my sister's Christmas crafts. (You can see a few pics below.)
    What this crazy? Yes. I had a long sheet of paper hanging from my entertainment center to a tray. I had my professional camera perched on top of  my tripod in the middle of the living room which is normally alright and safe for my equipment, except when you have Abu and CT trying to sneak under the legs of the tripod to play.
      I had fake garland strung from my curtain rods and tied around a chair which sat on top of my table. My sister was helping with the kids but it was still a bit chaotic.
     The children didn't mind at all. They were loving it. There were cool houses to play with and decorations to touch and just so much to help with. I was wrong, I have four personal assistants, I don't need another one. :)
     Stop shaking your head at me and muttering under your breath about crazy women trying to accomplish too much. I was using natural lighting for the photos. And no matter how much I pleaded with the sun to stay up a few extra hours in the evening so I could take the photos after the children weren't around, it strangely wasn't listening to me. Go figure. (grin)
      It was all going pretty well until I couldn't find something. Then frustration started to kick in.
      "What are you looking for Aunt Christy?" CT asks.
      "My sanity."
      She jumps onto the couch and looks at everyone in the room. "Everyone get on the sanity boat. Aunt Christy come ride on the sanity boat."
     If only there was a boat for that.
    But then I'm sure all the tickets would be sold out.

    Later I'm talking with Grandma about our busy afternoon.
    CT joins the conversation. "Grandma. Aunt Christy didn't find her sanity. She was looking for it but she couldn't find it." Then she sighs and shakes her head slowly as if to say poor Aunt Christy.
    
    I guess the boat left without me this week.  :)



Here are some pics....

                 I think the photos turned out well considering I didn't have any professional lighting and I had four personal assistants. :)

 The children kept pulling the top off this one because of all the spooky decorations inside.

I think they wanted to eat the fake candy canes. Luckily they weren't real otherwise they would have disappeared. :)

Lost Bunnies and Missing Dollar value

        Today's blog is brought to you by the word frantic.
       ' Frantic'

       
       Oh, goodness. What can I say? I started the week off by waking up late and only by kicking into frantic mode being able to pull off the seemingly impossible feat of getting the kids to school on time.
       We only had twenty-eight minutes to eat, get dressed, and drive to school.
       People with children will understand that a miracle has occurred.
      
       The week hasn't slowed down since then and the frustration level keeps building. Meditation has totally lost this week; beat down and held hostage by tension, frustration and a general sense of fear of the unknown direction of the world. I'm sorry, but I have issues with the EPA talking about upping the safe levels of radiation. Because then that makes it safe? I'm sure any high school science teacher would have issues with that logic too.
       I'm sure that it's not just me feeling this general sense of uneasiness. The entire world seems to be waiting in the corner ring, ready for the signal, the crowd going wild. But no one knows for sure who they're cheering for.
      Near fist fights between fifth graders, depression in everyone I know, and rude people at that store seem to be the theme of the week. Yes, these things happen at other times and it's not hard to find people lacking in manners at the big box discount stores but this week it seems worse, like everyone is on edge.
      Is worry flammable?

      Last night a mini herd of plastic bunny rabbits decided to escape and roam the neighborhood. Unfortunately, they left the owner of them in tears. Heart breaking, gut wrenching tears and even though I have told this wonderful child of mine to keep wandering toys closer to home, some lessons are painful to learn.
     Still, deep sobs are hard to ignore and shivering in the cold because spring here can be rather chilly, I was out in the dark with a flashlight trying to find little plastic toys. I didn't have any luck and tear stains on chubby cheeks was the sad note of the night. (Sigh.)
      This morning the bunnies came home and for a few hours this crazy, 'doesn't make sense' world was in balance again. The sun is shining and life is good.
 
       Too bad as an adult fixing things is never as easy as finding lost toys. And our lessons are never as simple as learning to keep track of our toys. We have to make sense of a world that to this generation has never seen as crazy. We have massive uprisings in Africa and conflicts that aren't considered wars even though we're using war planes and missiles and fighting. I guess my dictionary is different than the people in charge.
      We have radiation from Japan traveling the winds and now waters around the world and we're told not to worry. I hate to worry and I try not to think about something I can't see anyway, but I have children. Tell me not to worry.
     I listen to the 'newscasters' on the news and the politicians that tell me that the American dollar is strong and enormous debt problem isn't something to worry about but I go to the grocery store and my dollar must be missing something because one trip cost me more than the time before and I have less food in my cart. But I'm not too worry? Will radiated vegetables cost less or more?

     I need to find a bit of positive to end with but this week it's a bit difficult to find a sense of calmness when the world is in frantic mode and you feel like your choices are either trying to keep up or be dragged underneath the wheels. I will take a deep breath and remind myself that worry doesn't give me more time, it's actually a thief of such things and prevents a person from focusing on the important things in life. So tonight I will pay extra attention to my children at the dinner table, remembering that today was actually a great day because lost bunnies found their way home.