Miss Independence….

Toddlers are well known for exploring their independence.  They all seem to go through that phase of “I do it MYSELF” stage.   We are currently experiencing the “I do it” stage with little Miss Alivia.  From day one she has proven to be a funny mixture of mommy/daddy’s girl to her own kind of beastie.  She has an advantage that Mr. Davian didn’t, in that she has a living example that is close to her age, and well, her size.  She watches his every move, studying each step he makes.  I remember catching them last summer.  He was exploring his new ‘tie’ tennis shoes, fiddling with the laces.  He wasn’t actually tying them yet, but was exploring how they worked.  Alivia was right next to him – taking in every movement and filing it away in that tiny little brain of hers that never stops.

Having mastered silverware, drinking from a cup, and potty training…her royal highness decided that it was time to work on clothes.  Now she has been able to undress herself without help (for the most part) for some time.  Saturday morning everyone got up, got dressed and proceeded to go about their usual business.  About midmorning, I wandered down to her room to check to see that she wasn’t climbing the desk or swinging from the curtains (no joke – it happens).  Instead I found her standing in the middle of her room, butt naked with a small pile of cloths that she had just removed.  She was holding a little striped shirt that she had managed to wrestle from its hanger in the closet. 

“Put it on” she demanded.

“Ok” I said as I reached for the shirt.

“NO!  I put it on!” came the reply as she clutched the shirt to her tiny chest.

Since it was Saturday and we had no plans to go anywhere anytime soon, and Davian was happily occupied on the couch with is ‘futer’ and Toy Story on the television, I opted to sit down on the bed and watch.

“Ok, you put it on” I said calmly.  Alivia gave a big smile then set about what would become a 20 minute battle of wits…between her and the clothing.

First came the shirt.  I watched patiently while she struggled to figure out where the arms were, where the head was, and how her little body was supposed to work with these strange components.  It was a might struggle, but after several minutes she managed to get the shirt on….inside out.  Pleased with herself, she moved on to her underpants.  It was vanquished quickly as she had by this time learned that the Princesses went in front.  Then came the sweat pants…these were a little trickier.  After several attempts, she managed to keep from getting both legs in the same pant leg.  There was a lot of discussion about this, but she finally got it, never mind that the pants were backwards.

The socks came last.  Apparently socks are her arch enemy.  It so happens that these sock had the rubber grips on the bottom (that spell out the size) and grey on the toe and heel.  If they were adult socks I would call them ankle socks – not to high up the leg but certainly not footie.  Of course for Alivia, being on the short side, the socks probably were closer to mid-calf.  She eyed sock #1 carefully, turning it over in her little hands, studying it from every angle.  After settling on a game plan, she plopped down on the floor and began her attack.  Let me tell you, as a mommy, it was everything I could do to keep from snorting with laughter.  The poor kid was rolling around on the floor, foot in the air, trying to get that damn sock on her foot.  It threw her four times before she managed to get all her toes inside.  Finally she managed to get her pudgy little foot totally encased, only to discover the sock was upside down.  Off came the sock along with a lot of noise, wails, and grunts of frustration.

“Do you want some help?” I offered once I gained some composure.  (Hard to do when your two year old is being rolled across the floor by a sock).

“NO – I do it MYSELF!” came the almost war-cry response.

Determined not to let a sock get the best of her – she once again grasped the sock.  More rolling across the floor….more grunts of determination…more babbling incoherently….until finally….sweet success!  Please with herself, she went after sock #2 with gusto.  Finally, after what seemed like hours, she was dressed.

It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t neat, but she was covered….and she did it herself…..

The Air is Turning Blue Part Deux….

Everyone knows that small people have a tendency to repeat and expand on things they hear.  Not long ago we gained first-hand experience when Mister D picked up on one of Daddy’s rants, and spent many months dealing with colorful expletives that were randomly spouted out at day care.  A proud moment for all of us.  Naturally his darling sister also caught the momentum and in turn joined in her big brother - parroting some of the more fabulous words.  Eventually, we managed to get everyone to stop swearing (Daddy included) and the peasants rejoiced in our little kingdom.

That is until last week.  I started to notice the recurrence of the phrase “Don’t say that word” from my darling princess.   Normally, in the past, this meant ‘that word’ was going to be uttered, and soon.  However we didn’t hear anything and nothing was reported, so I stupidly assumed that it was just ‘one of those things.’  Boy was I wrong.

Yesterday I went to pick up the munchkins.  Stopping in D’s room first, he happily showed me his latest construction paper masterpiece, pointed out his cubby and proudly grabbed his new Superman backpack to carry to the car.  As we headed down the hall to gather up madam, the director caught my attention and asked me to ‘come here’.  (Having some experience I knew this was not a good sign.).  My first thought is – dear god – what has he done this time?  But noooooo.  For once my little guy was the “good” child. 

“Do you have any suggestions as to what we should do with A?”  stated the director.  “We aren’t sure what to do anymore?” 

Come to find out my little angel apparently was choking on her halo and tripping on her wings. 

“We started a log – we are trying to see if there is a common factor”

(Holy crap – I thought….they started a log!)  I asked for the list and read through it carefully.

You name it – it was on that list.  Foul language, throwing stuff, pinching, throwing food, refusing to sit in time out.  My heart sank.

“Ok, when did this start?  I know she hasn’t been doing it at home and you said she had stopped.”

“It started last Thursday/Friday.”
“What triggered it?”

Blank stare. 

“She isn’t doing this at home, only here, so something must have started it.  What happened that might have caused it?”

More blank stare….I decided to try another tactic.

“Was she doing it before?” 
“No – She had stopped.  We don’t know why she started again.”

“What do you do when that happens – I know she doesn’t like to sit in time out.”   (In truth it is a fight to get her in time out.  She will sit then just gets up and goes along as if nothing happened….you literally have to stand there with her to keep her in the chair.)

“Well she won’t stay in time out so we hold her in our lap.”

*ding ding ding*

I went through the list again.

“Ok, some of these phrases she is saying….she never heard that from us.  We also make sure they aren’t hearing stuff on the radio/television so it has to have been something she heard here.”

“Oh no, we don’t say those things.”

I stared at her, “No, I know you don’t, but I know for a fact that I was in here a while back and she was in a room with older kids.  One of the kids picked her up, carried her over to another kid and told her to say  “*&*&” – and she did.   I also know the teacher was standing right there and ignored it.   Now, let’s try again….has she been around the older kids?”

“Well there are kids in her class that are now starting to repeat what she says.”

I sighed….”Ok, I will talk to her.  You keep your log and if you come up with something I am more than happy to work with you.”  I also pointed out that she was probably doing it for attention, but refrained from stating the obvious about their sitting her on their laps.  I then headed out to gather my new problem child.

“Did you say bad words today?” I asked her as I buckled her in the van.

“Yesh”

“Are you supposed to say bad words?” I asked

“Yesh”

“No, No – do NOT say bad words – it makes Mommy and Daddy sad.”

“Yesh”

As I climbed into the van I heard a tiny voice from the back whisper “Don’t say that word”.

Yep – we are totally fucked…..

3 AM Shuffle...

As most people know, small people are notorious for waking up in the wee hours of the morning.  As they get bigger, these nocturnal awakenings occur less and less, much to the relief of the sleep deprived parental units.   As one of those sleep deprived parental units, I can assure – getting more than an hour of sleep at a time is AWESOME!

Our small people have always handled sleep in totally different ways.  Mr. D came to us at 11 months, so we missed a lot of the early hour feedings that come with newborns.  He did have issues with ear infections and sinus problems, so sleep was not one of his best friends.  Once we got him all cleared up, he settled into a very pleasant sleep routine.  He was the only child I know of personally who would come running to you and demand to go to bed.  Often we would go looking for him only to find him next to his crib, stuffed doggie in hand, letting us know he wanted in so he could go to sleep.  And sleep he did…I swear, nothing can wake that kid.

Miss A was different.  She came to us straight from the hospital.  Sleep was not kind to her either.  Hours of walking her around, cradling her, trying to sooth her tiny self into sleep became the norm for us until probably about 4 months old.  Finally she got into the routine of waking in the middle of the night once or twice and needing only someone to hold her until she fell back asleep.  In a fit of desperation and exhaustion one evening, I just gave up and took her to bed with us.  She settled right in and slept the rest of the night.  It was glorious.

Now that the kids are older, they have adjusted to bed times.    Miss A still wakes up at least once a night, but she is now to the point where she will get up, walk through the house and climb into bed with us.  Occasionally she will ask for a drink but most of the time this is just out of habit and she is asleep before we can get one for her.   Mr. D – he still sleeps as soundly as before, if not more so.  The dog was in his room, next to his bed, howling at the coyotes outside and the kid never moved. 

Last night, with a break in the gloomy cold weather, the kids got to spend a good deal of time outside playing in the snow after daycare.  Good thing too since they were both showing signs of being cooped up inside for a long period of time.  Lots of running, jumping, and scampering occurred.  This continued on into the house, where we finally settled in with dinner, bath and some quiet time.  Finally bed time came, and both kids went off to their prospective beds without too much hassle.  Mommy then spent an hour addressing various Valentine’s Day card for various small people classmates, cleaned up the house then wandered off to bed.  Daddy soon followed, and a gentle quietness settled on the house.  Everyone tucked safely away in their beds….even the animals were snoozing soundly.  Total bliss…..

Next thing I know, I hear the hubby’s muffled voice from across the bed.

“We have two of them”
Me: “Huh?”
Hubby: “We have two babies”
Me: “uh huh…two of them”

Let me just mention here I had been awakened from a sound sleep.

Hubby: “No, we have two of them…in here…now”

At this comment I opened my eyes.  I just managed to make out in the darkness a couple small forms moving about the bedroom.   The first form was dragging her ninnie (blanket).  She carefully managed to maneuver around a rather rotund sleeping dog, past her brother, up onto the trunk at the end of our bed, and then up onto the bed itself, past the other dog, over the cat, and over the tangle of blankets and parental unit legs.  Finally she reached her destination, which was the mound of pillows at the head of the bed.  Without missing a beat, she zoomed in on a pile of pillows in between us and kind of half dove/half lurched into a small soft pillow that she had apparently identified as her landing point.  Once down, she scooched about for a minute, then finally finding that ‘sweet’ spot, gave a half turn and let out a soft sigh…then totally zonked out.  I am not even sure she knew we were there.

While this careful dance was taking place, the other small person was moving past the said rotund dog to the hubby’s side of the bed.  Without a word he turned and walked back out into the kitchen, followed by the hubby.  I saw a light turn on and lay there thinking “I should probably go help”, but instead continued to lay quiet comfortably.  (I tell myself I was waiting to hear the small person next to me ask for a drink but that is total bull…I was relishing my warm  cozy bed and we all know it).  Finally the hubby came into the kitchen and turned on the light by the stove.  I realized he was making up a milk so I took pity on him and hauled myself out of my warm bed.  “There is a milk ready in the refrigerator – it just needs to be warmed up.  Where is he?”  The hubby thanked me and replied that the boy was in the bathroom.  “Is he wet?” I asked.  “Nope.  His curtains are open and the moon is shining in his room.” came the reply.

I wandered into his bedroom, thinking that maybe the bed was wet.  As I walked in said small person came in behind me, babbling about “lights” and “colors” and “monsters looking at me”.  I told him mommy was sorry she left his curtains open, and then pulled the drapes. 

“That better?” I asked.
“Yes, thanks” he said.  Then he wandered out of the room. 

I checked the bed – it was dry – then headed out to find that the hubby had made a small nest for the boy on the couch.  Confused I asked again “is he wet?”  The hubby then said he would sleep out there with the boy. 

“Want me to do it?” I asked. 
“Nope”
“ok, although the smart thing would have been to put him on the smaller couch and for you to take the bigger one.”  (I know this from experience).
“Yeah…it would have been the smart thing to do” he said as he went off for his pillow.

While he was gone I moved the boy to the other couch.  While I was getting him settled, the hubby came in, laid down on the bigger couch and promptly fell asleep.

“You ok?” I asked Mr. D.
“Yes.” 
“You need anything?” I asked Mr. D.
“No….” he seemed hesitant.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“Monsters” he whispered.
“No monsters…” I said. “Besides, daddy’s snoring would scare them off.”  (To help illustrate my point the hubby rattled off a rather long and loud snore – although I doubt he was aware of that at the time.)
“See? “ I asked.

He seemed to think this over for a minute, and then nodded solemnly.
“Good night bug…sleep well….and if you get worried about monsters come get me.”
“No monsters.” He replied happily.

They were both still asleep this morning on the couches when I got up….guess snoring really does keep the monsters at bay.

A Thank You Letter….

To the Individuals Who Created Our Children,

Thank you for creating two beautiful children, each perfect in their own way.
Thank you for being too young and too immature to handle the challenges of raising those children.
Thank you for not being there when your oldest child was frightened and hurting.
Thank you for not being there when he needed a mother or father to hold his little hand, sooth his little brow and tell him things would be alright.
Thank you for missing his first birthday…and his second…and his third.
Thank you for not seeing his excitement on Christmas...or Easter...or Halloween.
Thank you for being so selfish, that you couldn’t stop using drugs even on the day of your next child’s birth.
Thank you for not being around when her eyes began to focus.
Thank you for missing her first smile and her first laugh.
Thank you for not being there when she discovered she had fingers and toes.
Thank you for missing the first steps both children took.
Thank you for missing their first words.
Thank you for missing their first experiences at a park, at a parade, at meeting Santa.
Thank you for missing their first delighted looks when they heard music, when they danced.

Thank you for missing their first giggles when a kitty purred for them, or a puppy licked their faces.
Thank you for letting us be the ones they first called “Mommy” and “Daddy”.
Thank you for letting us be the ones that got to comfort them after nightmares.
Thank you for letting us be the ones to dry the tears from their little faces.
Thank you for letting us be the ones to hold their little hands as they led us to something they wanted to show us.
Thank you for letting us be the ones who got to introduce them to the wonders of music, art, reading, nature and life in general.
Thank you for not being able to pull it together, even for the sake of these two fabulous beings you placed on this earth.
Thank you for being too selfish and caught up in  your own lives that you couldn’t take the time to become parents.
And most importantly, Thank you for doing one smart thing in your lives and signing those children over to us, even though your reasons were purely selfish and not out of total regard to the well being of those children.

My one wish for you both is that in time, you are able to know the joy of what you have given away.
My other wish is that you truly learn to realize what you have lost, but I thank you for what you have given us.

Signed,

A Grateful Recipient