Pretty Woman

Well, we are officially knee-deep in dirty diapers and laundry, but loving every minute of it. Okay, almost every minute. I suppose I could do without the laundry. My eyes are a bit droopy, but I am savoring each moment with Baby Ezra, knowing just how fast it all goes.

I have to say that I am incredibly proud of our Big Sissy Phoebe. Things have been shaken up around here quite a bit and she has risen to the occasion. She loves to help change diapers, snuggle up next to Ezra, take pictures of him, and even helped out with his first real bath. She absolutely adores her brother. In her own words, "I am just so in love with him....I am so in love with him that I want to be married with him!" (She also wants to marry her daddy.)

This is an exciting time for us all, and a time of transition for sure. I would not be telling the truth if I said we have not had any feelings of frustration or jealousy around here...and we would then be a total anomaly amongst families everywhere. It is all too normal to feel a bit left out and neglected when a new person arrives (especially after over 4 years of being the center of the universe). And though I often write silly stories for your sheer amusement, this blog is truly more for us. It's a chronicle of our lives, and well, it wouldn't be complete if I didn't share all the details. After all, I want to look back and remember everything-whether it's good, bad...or ugly.

While I was pregnant, we anticipated how our lives would change with a new addition. We knew there would be excitement and joy, diapers and spit-up, and we were not naive to think we would not have a bit of "interesting" challenges with the adjustment. You just never know exactly what to expect, but there are a few things we didn't see comin'. "Like what?," you ask? Well, there's the vomiting, for instance. Not Ezra...Phoebe.

The first time it happened was in the hospital, the night Baby arrived. There was a lot of action going on, with me in a hospital bed, and Baby about to FINALLY arrive, and it being way past the bedtime. As Daddy tells me, it happened on the ride home (poor Daddy) while I was still in recovery. Phoebe complained that the car smelled like throw-up for days. I chided with Daddy that he shouldn't have let her have that chili from the hospital cafeteria, but still I wondered if it wasn't more than that....

With two more random incidents in the days to follow, and no other signs of illness, we realized that it was anxiety-induced vomit. Didn't see that comin'. Three times in a very short span. Poor thing. She was just so overwhelmed with it all. We all spent several days wondering if or when it might happen again, but thankfully the third was the last...so far. We kept a bucket near her bed and she slept on a towel for about a week, just in case. Just another jewel in our parenting crowns.

So a little throw-up isn't so bad, huh? How about a little bit of a yucky attitude? To be expected too. Yep, more than vomit has spewed out of our darling Phoebe's mouth in the last month. As kiddos go, there are always surprises around the corner, and my Phoebe has not disappointed in that department. I will highlight a couple of strange things she has said here. After all, she might want to hear about these gems in the future. At least, I will likely want to remind her of them if or when she ever has children of her own...it's my duty, is it not?

A couple weeks ago, we were hanging out in her room while Ezra slept. We had been doing school and an art project, just having a good time. Then I reminded her that she needed to tidy up her room. Now, Phoebe is a great little helper. She loves chores...she likes to dust, do dishes, and is always asking if she can mop the floors. But cleaning up her toys? Not so much. But, she had promised it would be done that morning, and I was going to hold her to it.

Her response to my making her clean should have given me a good laugh...but instead it made me cry (darn those hormones!). She paused her not-so-valiant cleaning effort to say, "Sometimes (long pause), I think of you...kind of like Cinderella's stepmother."

"WHAT!!!??"

At first I just stare at her and wonder where this came from since we don't own any Disney movies. And then....then I see the wry smile on her face and realize she meant it as a joke and like I said, it should have given me a really good laugh (which it very much does now), but now I feel the burning hot, hormonal tears stinging my eyes. I spin on on my heels in dramatic fashion, head to the bathroom, where I proceed to sob uncontrollably for a minute or two, then gather myself and get back in there to "encourage" the cleaning business. I feel a bit like Claire Huxtable as I growl under my breath, "You wanna see mean...I'll show you mean. You've never seen mean. Stepmother, hmph! After all I do for you..."

A few days later, Phoebe and I were watching a show together on the Food Network. She loves cooking shows, especially what she calls "cake shows". A commercial came on and I paused the TV (gotta love the DVR), as we do not like to watch commercials around here. Once again, I am enjoying some lovely time alone with my wonderful daughter and I don't expect the following curve ball....

The commercial was a cosmetics ad featuring Julia Roberts. I just happened to pause it on a close-up of her face. Phoebe said, "Ooh, she's pretty."

"Yes, she is," I replied.

"Prettier than YOU are."

Huh?

(What, with my milk-soiled night dress and my disheveled hair, puffy eyes, saggy belly, and not-so-fresh armpits? I stare at the screen at Julia and think maybe I need to include the word "airbrushed" in our vocabulary list this week.)

....A bit stunned, I pause for what seems like forever. Then I turn and look at her and even she looks a bit confused and bewildered by what just came out of her mouth. She quickly tries to recover by saying, "I was just...I mean...I just was saying that she is pretty, Mommy." (Now, if you know my Phoebe, you know that this girl showers me with compliments every day and is quite gracious to everyone around her, so this was quite uncharacteristic of her.)

This time I didn't cry. I did, however, take the opportunity for what I like to call a "teaching moment". Though I was laughing inside, I knew that this little jab at Mommy was coming from someplace deep inside her, with a whole heap of emotions at the root. Ah, human nature is so clearly displayed in a child. They are raw and transparent and yet, mysteriously complicated little creatures. They are human.

Later I privately shared this little nugget with Daddy and his eyes got wide, then he laughed, of course. Then he said, "I don't think Julia Roberts is that pretty. I don't know why she is such a big deal."

"Thanks, Honey."

"No, really. I just don't think she's all that great."

"I know. She's not me."

"Exactly...she's not you."

What a guy.

The next day Phoebe and I were baking cookies and she said that no other mommy makes the goodest cookies as I do. And she added, "You are the most beautiful woman in the whole world...You are the bestest mommy in the whole universe."

Well, there you have it folks. In the eyes that matter, I am, in fact, prettier than Julia Roberts.

Phoebe Prays

Another sweet prayer from my Phoebe this morning had me choking up a tiny bit-

"Dear God, please bless my mommy," she said as she layed a little hand on my shoulder (so sweet)."Please help Mommy to forgive me and me to forgive her. Amen."

Ah, this age is amazing. She is growing into such a little lady, looking at herself in the mirror this morning and declaring, "Wow, I look so fancy!" Then she grabbed her purse and we headed out the door. Later she was all tomboy, climbing up on her little step stool and pretending to ride a skateboard. Some days I don't think I am going to make it through age three. Today was in part one of those days toward the end. Sometimes I feel like I've just barely got my head above water. I am thankful for faith and oh so thankful for prayer. Where would I be without it?!!

Choosin' My Battles

The saying goes, "Choose your battles." Whoever first uttered these great words of wisdom must have had a lot of parenting experience. I try to follow this advice, for if I didn't, there would be hands thrown up in exasperation every half-hour of the day. BUT there are days. Oh, there are days...when the sprouting wings are in a completely out-of-control, fluttering frenzy, and my willful little three-year-old has made this impossible. You see, it is she who chooses the battles. And she CHOOSES to battle me at every turn. At the end of the day, it is me who is mentally curling up my fists, digging my heels into the ground, and shouting, "I WANT MY WAY!"

Now thankfully, this is not the case every day, because if it were, surely my sweet little Phoebe would be orphaned by now. Most days we are just dandy, and I am smitten with her and this glorious role that I play as her BFF. I think this whole no-napping business is getting to me. This is day number five and I am pretty sure that she is done with naps, with the exception of long car rides and days of sheer physical exhaustion. Oh nap, oh nap, oh sweet toddler nap. Where art thou??

Then there is the current issue of night-waking. We have spurts of these from time to time. We are sympathetic to this. We understand that she may feel lonely or scared. It is totally age-appropriate. We choose various solutions. Lately she has ended up on the futon downstairs with her daddy. Not a terrible thing for me, I suppose. Hey, he has the gift. The sleep-anywhere-anytime, sleep-like-a-hibernating-bear (snoring included), kind of gift. And he knows that I do NOT function without some good sleep.

Sometimes she may end up in bed with us and it is cozy. We are all snuggly, buggly. More often though, we are kind of like two sardines on either side of the can, with a third one sprawled out in the middle, tossing back and forth and doing the hokey-pokey in her sleep. And if she isn't movin' and shakin', there is the incessant sucking on her fingers. And the molestation of mommy or daddy...usually mommy. She is such a lover. It's sweet, but move over kid and stop trying to love on booey! We don't have a Cal King. We don't even have a King. It just doesn't work.

Then there is the makeshift bed on the floor, which seems to work for so many families. She complies occasionally, but when I told her recently that this would be her only option, she sighed and said, "But I want booey." Ah, who can blame her? Who doesn't love to snuggle up next to (and fondle) a warm breast?

Kids are funny. They're obnoxious and bratty and grumpy. They're bossy and demanding and self-centered...And fun and wonderful and silly and delightful and awesome. I'm so glad we have one!