Cats are Vile

If only I'd faked an allergy when Craig and I first started dating.

Spelling is easy, it's the TH sound that's hard.

I was getting coats out of the closet to take Ainslie to school and she comes running to me, yelling, "Mommy, Mommy, I spelled a real word on the 'frigerator! Come see! I spelled Fot! F-O-T! I sounded it out all by myself! F-O-T! Fot!"

So, I go running to see, and sure enough, there it is, "Fot."

I had to ask.

After getting all excited and telling her how proud I was of her sounding out words all by herself--I HAD to know.

"What's "Fot" Honey?"

"FOT--you know, a fot!"
"Fart?"

(giggle) "No, Mom, not fawt. Fot. Like when I'm finking about somefing."

So, all the way to school, I tell her how smart she is and what a good speller she is--she spelled it JUST like it sounds!

Then, I have to push it."Ainslie--what would you change if you wanted to spell, "got?"

(giggle) "Oh, Mom, that's not a real word!"

Gloria In Excelsis Deo! Again!

Ainslie's antics today in Penney's made me think of this post from 2 years ago.

I was returning some curtains and buying some window hardware, and she was running from curtain display "house" to house. She was also shouting, "Glory to God in the Highest! Glory to God in the Highest!"

Now, there is a screaming three-year old moment that nobody in these parts is going to give a withering stare!

I can't wait to see the preschool Christmas program next week!

Cart Ride

While grocery shopping yesterday, I was unabashedly singing along with the Christmas music. (Does anyone else do this?) Oooh, oooh, one of my favorites--Sleigh Ride!

10 minutes later, while perusing the frozen foods, Ainslie added a new verse.

Giddyup, Giddyup, my leg is cold!

I'm still giggling about it.

Catching my breath

Today was my last day of teaching for the quarter, and I'm not teaching next quarter--YAY! Of course, I still have a zillion papers to grade, but I'm breathing a nice sigh of relief.

Still lots of work on the other project, plus, you know, hosting Christmas and all, but whoohoo--what freedom to not have to be somewhere, dressed up, in the middle of my other jobs.

Amazing how much better I feel!

I've also been trying to let more things go--and finding just a tiny bit of success. When did I develop a Bree complex? New picture for the Christmas card? Nah--I'm using one from the Gap contest that I liked. Letter for the Christmas card? Nah--most people know what's going on with me anyway. Make my own cards? Not this year!

Anyway, I'm just rambling. I should be reading a zillion gb file to discuss with the client on Thursday, but, you know, I'm trying to slow down a bit.

Profound thoughts of my little diplomat

"Mom, what does it mean to crash a party?"

"It means that you go to a party that you were not invited to--it's very rude."

"Like when Maleficent showed up at the party and put a spell on the baby?"

"Yes! Exactly like that."

"Mom? Do you think that if the king and queen would have invited Maleficent, maybe she wouldn't have been so mean?"

No More Thursdays and Something is Wrong With Me

Two titles for two posts, but they are related.

I'm done with Thursdays. No more class on Thursday, thanks to Thanksgiving and finals week. No more small group on Thursdays. This one is over, and really, I can't do another one for awhile.

That's where the other title comes in. I've had the nagging feeling for the past couple weeks that something is not right. I sometimes have trouble breathing. I've had insomnia for the first times in my life. I can't focus on one thing very long. Stress. I know it is, but I can't relax. I get even more stressed at the thought of nothing to do--which is really weird, because I could really use a break.

In my head, I'm at least a month ahead. I'm all but finished Christmas shopping, and the gifts are wrapped.

The Project That Won't End (or Begin) is in constant Hurry Up and Wait Mode, so I get all worked up, thinking that I have to get going on what I can, as quickly as possible, then, while we wait--I think that the house needs to be immaculate, all laundry done, meals planned and made ahead, etc.

Ridiculous.

I know I'm being ridiculous, but physiologically, something is off.

Two more weeks of class on Mondays and Tuesdays, and then we'll see. I know I need to be still. I know I need to listen. I know I need to chill.

Efficiency has always been something I've valued. As we were taking a final look at our values last night in LifeKeys, I had a mini-epiphany. Maybe I need to change my values? Maybe doing things quickly and ahead is not what is best for me, my personality, my passions, and most importantly, my child. Am I teaching Ainslie to never be still? (At the moment we're ok--she's chilled in front of Little Einsteins,) but it seems like we are always doing something, because I can't just Be.

In the group last night, we were also talking about when we felt we might put what we've discovered about ourselves to use, and that God doesn't necessarily mean for us to make changes Right This Minute. I said that I felt like changes are coming, and that I see things I want to do, maybe in a year.

My answer was by far the farthest away. Most people said within weeks. To me, a year doesn't seem that far away, and that scares me a little.

I don't feel sad. Or angry. Or hopeless, desperate or despondent. Just tense and frazzled. Think hummingbird on steroids.

We are planning on taking a vacation in January. Of course, besides thinking how nice it will be and how much we need to take a break, I get all tense thinking about where I will be on The Project by then.

Thank You, Lord, for my Daughter

4:30 AM.

A: Mom, I need to snuggle with you.
Me: Ok. You'll need to take off your wings and crown.


Somehow, it was necessary for her to change into a fairy costume, complete with tights, for the long trek to our bedroom.

Chewing and chewing and chewing

Week 4 of 10 of this quarter teaching...
Week 4 of 8 of the LifeKeys class at church (that I volunteered to help with a looong time ago, not knowing when it was actually happening)
Week ? of ? of a nice juicy project
Preschool, dance, and gymnastics (oh, my!)

I've taken a big ol' bite.

Right now, Monday night Ainslie goes to dance, I go to teach.
Tuesday, we have preschool, then Ainslie has lunch with Grampa while I teach, then I go back to teach at night.
Wednesday morning we have gymnastics.
Thursday is a repeat of Tuesday, except that we have LifeKeys and Ainslie plays with her beloved Ms. L in the church nursery--then we race home to try to catch The Office. :-)

Meanwhile, I'm working (training) more than usual, and next week it's going to start being a lot more.

It's good. I like being busy. I like that Christmas and the dining room furniture are covered.
It's too much. I hate grading 80 papers a week. Craig is pitching in, but the house is...not up to anybody's standards.
It's only 10 weeks (at least for teaching these three sections), and it's nearly half over. A person can do anything for 6 weeks, right?

Go Ask Alice

My mom finished Ainslie's Alice in Wonderland costume, and it is adorable.

When Ainslie tried it on, she gasped at her reflection and said, "oh, Mommy, I am Alice!"

But--

Every time--every time--she talks to someone about it, you know, random people in public who ask her what she's dressing up as for Halloween, it goes something like this:

Random Person: What are you going to be for Halloween?
A: Alice in Wonderland
RP: Oh, that will be so pretty. Did your mommy make your costume?
A: Oh, no! Mommy can't sew! Not at all. Grammie made it.

I've accepted the fact that activities that require precision and attention to detail are not in the cards for me, but really, does she have to announce it like that?

I love this kid

After a harrowing no-nap day with my husband in Chicago and no break from the constant chatter, Ainslie and were finally snuggled together in her bed, and she wanted to read.

She can read a few words. I wouldn't say she'll be into War and Peace any time soon, but she can read a few words and I just love that electric spark that goes through us both when she really, really reads a new word. It's just magical!

Anyway, you know how those 'learn-to-read' books have rhymes and pictures so the kids can figure out what the words are? Well, this page was different. It said,
"Some kids play music and
some kids play sports."

She's getting "kids" and "play" out of all of this, and yes, this is largely because of the repetition within the book, BUT--she asked, "Mom, what's a sport?"

My response was that a sport is a game or activity where you use your body, like soccer, gymnastics, baseball...

"...or quidditch?"

YES, like quidditch! I love my daughter!

Apparently

I am the sort of person who can hate a little kitten. I really, really detest Joe the Kitten. Yearning for a pet-free existance...

Sophie, the kitten, is a boy (m )

Yes. Apparently Craig and I are unable discern between male and female cats. Fortunately, the vet can.

When I told Ainslie, her first response was that, "maybe we should call her Joe instead." On further reflection, she has slipped into the Denial Stage.

I guess the spaying appt will have to be reworded.

Dawn Chorus

I'm not a good enough composer to put this down on staff paper, but here's what each section contributes, starting at a little before 6am.

Child: Mom, can we get up? Mom, can we get up? Mom, can we ge up?

Kitten: MeOW, MeOW, MeOW, MeOW

Lab: hehhehhehhehhehhehhehhehhehhehhehhehheheh

Husband: groooooan. shhhhhhhh. grooooooan.

Garbage Trucks: ruuuuuuuuh, ruuuuuuuuuh

(and my very favorite section...)

Coffee Maker: click. blurpblurpblurpblurpblurp

24 Hours

"Oh, mommy, that's not going to work with me!"

"When we hold hands, the world gets brighter."

"When we get home I'm going to play dress-up. I'm going to dress up as God."

Baptisms, Religion, and Faith (oh, my!)

This is supposed to be an entry about Ainslie's baptism and the swirl of feelings and opinions I had/have, but it's really turning into a doozy.


Here's the Reader's Digest version of some background info: i.e., why Ainslie was baptized at 3 years old:

Craig's family is more High Church and of the Infant Baptism persuasion. My family is of the Old Enough To Make a Confession of Faith state of mind. Before we became parents, I knew it was important to Craig and his family to have children baptized as infants, and after all, it wouldn't hurt them, so I said, Fine, as long as he sets it up (knowing full well it would take, well, three years.) Ok, I'm being a little jokey, but what with the moving and all, it's taken this long. And I'm glad. Ainslie was so excited! She kept asking, "How many days 'til my baptism? I just can't wait to be baptized!" We had many conversations with her about what it means to be God's child, and to have Jesus in your heart, and, as well as a three-year old can, I think she understands.


What I have learned, is that baptism, in the ELCA context, is defined differently than in my Disciples of Christ context, and I'm ok with that. I've seen several ELCA confirmation classes make their confirmations and have been moved by the conviction with which those kids speak and act. Everybody's happy, right?


Ugh.


I've always thought that we have different denominations of the Christian faith because God gave us minds with which to think and question. How can we all come to the exact same conclusions about each passage of scripture? How could we all interpret everything the exact same way? We can't! We're human!


Where it gets dangerous, in my opinion, is when one group asserts that they are right, and the rest of us are going to hell. Literally.



Enter my dear old dad.



My parents are happily married, but they have always gone to separtate churches. Before I was born, my mom was visiting church with my dad and grandparents and the preacher told the congregation, in no uncertain terms, that unless you belong to the Church of Christ--NOT the Universal-Capital-C-CHURCH, but this particular uber-conservative instrumental music-less, non-ministerial-alliance participating denomination, you are hellbound. My mom decided that day that no child of hers would ever be a member of that church.


Anyhoo. Brother, Sister and I were well-churched in the more open-minded Disciples of Christ denomination. I married Craig, we found a good fit for the both of us in Lutheran ELCA. We begat Ainslie. Three years later, her baptism approaches. 2 hours before the service, my dad informs me he isn't attending. Fabulous. This'll go over well.


I have relatives arriving, people all over my house, a small girl who needs to be dressed and groomed and now this.

So, we argue doctrine for awhile. He is absolutely convinced that, let's see, all the Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, Catholics, Nazarenes, Disciples, UCC'ers, etc, are Doing It Wrong and will be judged thusly.


Arrogance!


I learned a long time ago not to keep arguing, because this idea is so deeply ingrained, there is no room for logic within this otherwise educated man's head or heart. As more relatives arrived, I told him, " You asked whether I'd be upset. Yes, I am upset. It's a family event. All you have to do is show up and sit there for an hour. I am being polite. I can guarantee Craig won't be, and then this is going to turn into a festering *thing* for the next who-knows-how-long. Please come."


Thankfully, Mom made him come.


The sermon was beautiful. Pastor spoke about Jesus getting lambasted for curing the woman on the Sabbath, and then went on to admonish us to not get so caught up in the Rules--the Rituals, the Doctrines, but to get out there and Live It. Do what is right. Help people. Don't worry about what others think or whether you are following the rules of the congregation. Live righteously without worrying whether you appear to be. He reminded us that the Rules of any church are just man-made. Hope Dad was listening.


Anyway, Ainslie did well. We're very proud of her, on many levels. If any mothers of three-year-olds are wondering, there was no hissing when the water touched her. :-) Had to throw that in--there are days when I wonder.


A couple of pictures

Shaping Up To Be An Interesting Weekend

We have a houseful of family coming this weekend for Ainslie's baptism.

Yesterday, my vacuum exploded.

Today, the dishwasher stopped working.

Single Mother Ballerina

The new pretend game is Ballet Class, where 'grown-up' Ainslie is the Star Ballerina of the class. She takes Baby Carla with her in Baby Carla's car seat. It's an elaborate set-up. First, she has to put on a leotard and tights, then I have to put her hair in a bun. Then, Baby Carla has to get dressed (in the purple dress if her mommy is wearing the purple tutu; in the pink jammies if Mommy is wearing the pink leo) and brought to the 'studio.'

Next, I have to put on Ballerina Music and then watch. But. I. Can. Not. Set. Foot. In. The. Dining Ro--Studio.

She spins, leaps, twirls--she acts out stories (we had a discussion that Ballet tells stories through dancing, so we have all kinds of Ballets--like the one about the good football player and the mean football player), she does Reverance at the end of class.

I asked her how she could have a Baby already, when she is only three. I should have known better.
"Mom! I'm pretending I'm four!"

It's worse than I thought. After Ballet Practice, yesterday, Baby Carla was having a wedding. I had to ask--isn't she a little young?

"Mo-oom! Baby Carla is a very special child."

She would know.
I just worry that she will be devastated when we put furniture in the dining room.

It's a sign...

Free shipping on any order, any size from Land's End, through August 21.

What is Wrong With Me?

I ordered a swimsuit from Land's End. Of course it doesn't fit. The bottoms are too big and the top is too small. Story of my life, but I digress. I'm not really into Land's End except for swim (because it lasts forever), winter shoes, and Big Warm Coats. The clothes just aren't my thing, for the most part.

But have you seen the new winter shoes in the catalogue? SO cute. I want the driving mocs in orange and the chalet shoes in every color.

Our finances are tidied up, we don't NEED any clothes, shoes, etc, and yet my heart beats faster and I itch toward the keyboard every time I think of these shoes. I want to buy them for other people as gifts as well. I want to order them RIGHT NOW.

Is there a program for me?

Just Doing My Job

The PALP/Harry Potter weekend was fabulous, in every sense of the word--the friends, the book, the gossiping, the goofing around.

It got even better last week, when Craig told me this story:

Ainslie doesn't usually freak out when I have to go out of town for work, etc., but she was overtired and started crying that she wanted her Mommy.

Craig: Mommy is with her friends, she'll be back in 2 days.

Ainslie: 2 days??!!

Craig: Yes, 2 days, and then she'll be home.

Ainslie (starting to wail again): But who's going to take care of us??????

My heart grew two sizes that day

Thursday, my baby took two large steps toward growing up--two steps that are wonderful and definitely in her best interest, but still---so large.

First, she got her Hogwa--preschool--letter in the mail. From her teacher, addressed to her, with her first-ever school supply list in it. She had to open it, then she had to read it (according to her it was about learning the planets and stars, since there were stars around the border of the paper.) We went down to the office and made a final selection of a personalized backpack to order.

Sigh.

Later that afternoon, we went to the waterpark, where, after 2/3 of a summer of loving the water but not wanting to put her face in, she swam. She's no Summer Sanders yet, but she put her whole body face down in the water, flailed her arms and kicked, and came up for air, repeatedly. She loved it. She is so proud of herself.

We have three weeks left of going to the waterpark, playing all day, and lolling around in summer splendor.

Flower Child

Thanks for the idea, Holly!

These were all taken this morning at Washington Park--except the ones where her face is painted; those are from Zoofari a couple weeks ago.

I can't believe how much my baby is starting to look like a big girl.

Harry Potter and The Tangled Thoughts of a Fan

Thank you, J.K. Rowling. Thank you for a piece of literature that will truly be with me always (I've already had HPDH dreams!)

I could go on and on and on and on and on and on about all the many things I think are so outstanding about the Harry Potter series, but last night while I was out for a run, I was thinking about all the people who say Harry is evil. How on earth can they think that? Especially when all the loose ends come together?

First of all, this is not a religious book. It is not trying to be a religious book at all. That said, since it is essentially about the struggle for good to overcome evil, it is quite easy to find religious allegory.

Especially in the end.

Stop reading here if you are avoiding Book 7 spoilers.




Several things save Harry Potter. One of these things is the protection his mother gave him as she sacrificed herself for him almost 17 years prior. This in itself, as a mother, makes me cry. Any of the mothers I know would do the same; we love our children with such a ferocity that it seems a given that that love should stay with them, in them, even after we are gone.

This same protection is one of the key factors in bringing down Voldemort. Due to his own hubris, Voldemort had also protected Harry, to a point, from death at his hands. Thus, blood, sacrificed through love, saved Harry, and also gave him the means to defeat Lord Voldemort. Non-Christian themes?
If they still think it's so evil, ah well, more copies for the rest of us!

Now I have to re-read and re-read and cross-reference and oh, Harry--how I will miss knowing even more of you, but I am so happy to Know what happened!

If you weren't convinced before, here's proof

I'm a freak. Got a pedicure yesterday. I have never been more excited about my feet.

Before the All-Star Break

We've been too busy to blog!

I just love summer. I especially love summer in the midwest, the soupy, sweaty, hot-and-sticky, wonderfulness of it all. I love the smell of chlorine and sunscreen mingled in Ainslie's hair. I love chubby little bottoms oozing out of swim-bottoms because the person in question is too busy climbing up the hill to the big waterslide to be bothered. I love the heat. I love that produce takes up the most room in our grocery cart. Ah.

Here is what we've been up to so far...

Summer kicked off with Ainslie's birthday party. The week after that was Princess Camp. Then, she did the first summer session of gymnastics. This month we are trading swimming for gymnastics, since she also started dance class. Intermingled in all this have been the summer reading program at the library and about a zillion trips to the waterpark. The season passes paid for themselves in about a week! Who wouldn't love to have Ainslie's life?

The adults in the house have been busy too. Thankfully, summer is wine and fruity cocktail season, so Craig has been busy. My work has slowed down a bit, but there has still been enough to keep me multitasking. We've also joined the church we'd been attending for almost a year, and are working on becoming more involved with various things there.

Coming up...tons of birthdays, Ainslie's baptism, more Cardinals games and my Harry Potter/PALP weekend! Ooh, and the Simpsons Movie, Order of the Phoenix, more trips to the waterpark, preschool orientation...

I love summer.

Deep Thought About Parenting

Those species that eat their young?

That must happen when the offspring turn three.

I think they may be on to something.

Princess Camp

Princess Camp. C'mon, doesn't the name make you smile just a little? Either genuinely or sardonically?

Today was the last day of Ainslie's week-long Princess Camp at the local dance studio. For an hour each morning this week, ten or so little girls twirled, dressed up, waved their wands, curtsied, made a craft, listened to a story and danced their little princess-loving hearts out.

This was our first drop-off-and-come-back-in-an-hour activity. This was the first time I've signed her up for something and then not been there to see what she was doing, so I only know what Ainslie told me. The first day they all got a princess name (hers was Gabriella, but they seemed to have dropped them after that first day.) They learned to curtsy "at a ball" and that was worth the price--the curtsy is priceless. She already knew the ballet/reverance curtsy, but this was a funny little bend-the-knee-and-bow number that makes me giggle each time she does it. They danced in a circle. They dressed up in costumes. There was a Hannah, a Lily, and a Rachel. That's about all I was told.

On Day 2, I peeked in as I left to make sure Ainslie was ok and not scared or lonely or anything. She was already telling the teacher something very important. She was fine.

On Day 3 when I picked her up, I was told Ainslie was cracking the staff up. That's all I know.

So today, finally, parents were allowed to watch for the last few minutes. Jasmine and Aurora had paid a special visit to dance with the princesses in training. Now, I still have mixed feelings on the whole princess thing, but tears sprang to my eyes watching these little girls absolutely suspending any disbelief over whether these teenage dance students in a prom gown and old recital costume WERE the real Aurora and Jasmine. Ainslie waved her wand, she twirled, she sang along, and when both songs (A Whole New World and Once Upon a Dream, of course)were over she rushed up with the other little girls to hug her heroines.

There was something so raw and poignant about watching her. I wish I had more moments of pure, unbridled in-the-moment-ness like that. Today, that's the lesson I've learned from my child. Let go sometimes. Don't hunt for errors. Take things at face value sometimes. And curtsy.

Got Your Jar Ready?

You may think I'm exagerrating if I say I live at the edge of town, next to a corn field, but it's true. I'm sure someday our subdivision will be further developed, but for now, I really enjoy having the fields around. It's very peaceful, the stars are bright at night, and now that it's summer, there is a new delight. Fireflies, or Lightning Bugs, as we grew up calling them, are everywhere!

Now, the cornfield to the west of us gives way to a soybean field about half a block down, and I saw something Monday night that I hadn't seen since childhood, visiting my grandparents. Hovering, as far as the eye can see (which, due to the treelessness of central Illinois is pretty far) were thousands of firefly lights. It was breathtaking. Ainslie was enthralled, and frankly, so was I. We all three just stood there and watched.

Yesterday, Ainslie was full of the promise of a "firebug" hunt, and she was at the ready, with a jar fashioned by Daddy and stuffed full of clover and grass. We managed to get enough of them to make quite a little lantern, and we 'kept' three of them, named Jaxey, Maxey, and Nanny. They are still alive, in case you wondered whether any lightning bugs were harmed...

We told her we'll go watch again tonight. Like most magical memories from childhood, Firefly Season passes all too quickly.

To Ainslie on (or a few days prior to) Her Third Birthday

Dear Ainslie,

Do you know that I don't think I've ever given you a birthday card? I'm sorry, but I hope that someday maybe you'll read some of these entries and they will take the place of cards.

To put it simply, and to use one of your, Bob, and Larry's favorite words, You Are Amazing.

I never dreamed I would be blessed with such a wonderful child. Sometimes I catch myself being smug at your wonderfulness. You really are so smart, funny, cute and well, ornery. Even though it frustrates me sometimes and makes me question whether I am fit to parent, I would rather you be your negotiating, independent, and yes, sometimes infuriating self than not express yourself and not try as hard as you can to get what you want. Someday, when you have gained some maturity, those traits will serve you well.

I can't believe the things that come out of your mouth. You use reason and logic in ways that astound me. You question processes beyond the usual "why" (although there is plenty of "why" in our house too.) Your perception of my opinions and feelings is a little disconcerting. I thought I had to be careful with what I say, now I have to be careful with tone. You understand sarcasm. You think "duh" is an hilarious word.

You break my heart with your sweetness. You tell me that you know Aunt Carrie lives with Jesus, so she must also live in my heart, since Jesus does too. You tell me you want to be a Mommy and a Teacher ("just like You!") when you grow up. Of course, you also say you want to be a princess.

You have a flair for the dramatic. You rarely just say you want something, it's usually, "It would be so (wonderful/amazing) to have a necklace like that, don't you think so?" You sleep in a tiara and plastic high heels. You refer to the Overskirt and Underskirt on your princess gowns, and you did NOT hear those terms from me. You make up epic songs based on stories or the events of the day. You make up words and then tell me you are speaking French or Spanish. "Cisco is French for Chicago, did you know that?" The fireplace hearth is your stage.

You're learning to spell and write. You're starting preschool in the fall and you are very excited. You insist on picking out your own clothes, sometimes several times a day.

You have no artifice. You have a confidence I never had and I hope you never lose. You love your friends, to the point of needing to "worry more about Ainslie." You are brave and outgoing. You talk to everyone.

Oh, kiddo. I pray that I can keep nurturing you the way you need to be nurtured in order to reach your full potential. I pray that the choices I make for you are in your best interest and not just what I deem Easiest or Most Fun. In my hubris, I'm afraid to turn you over to educators who, although I think they will recognize your gifts, may not realize how special you are. I pray that I can always be your best advocate, without embarrassing you to tears as you get older.

You are the best thing I've ever done; my biggest joy, my grandest blessing, and my greatest treasure.

I love you more than anything in the Whole Wide World,

Mommy

Preschool Screening (it's a One of Those Moms post)

If you don't want to hear about how wonderful and smart my kid is, you should skip this entry. It's gonna get deep.

We did the preschool screening today.

At the beginning, we were told, "We will give you a short report before you leave, but you won't know whether you get in until all children have been screened, in a few weeks.

"Getting in" means you are somehow at risk academically. When asked whether I had any concerns, I said no, but that I just wanted an objective opinion on her development. C'mon. The Truth is, I wanted to hear an actual early childhood specialist say my daughter is brilliant.

As we left, we were told, "There is no way she will be accepted. She did a wonderful job and is considerably ahead of where she should be in all areas."

There. Thank you.

It was fun to watch. As usual, Ainslie told people everything they could ever want to know and then some. She was downright rapturous about the Scissors, since they are forbidden fruit most of the time at home. She kept taking little asides to remind me that it was ok for her to have the scissors because there was a grown-up Right There. She even told them, "You know, I should be taking a nap right now, but today I don't have to because I'm here at your school."

She played catch, she hopped on one foot, she walked on a line ("do you know I can walk on my tippy toes? I do that at gymnastics."), she ran, she climbed stairs.

Funny, in 75 minutes, they didn't see anything. They don't know about her zooming up on her scooter to tell me, "I just came from England and brought you some pasta and bacon!" They don't know that, "Captain Hook *officially* lives in Disney World." They thought it was odd that she kept wandering to the bookshelf. One of them noted that someone her age, "shouldn't be so interested in books yet." ???????? Weird. Anyway, it was a good day.


Very, very thankful and proud mommy here.

Hmmmm

"Ainslie, are you getting into something?"

(from another room) "I might be..."

I think we're ok

Me: Ainslie, later this week, on Friday, we are going to the big kids' school. You get to play for awhile--I'll be there too--and a teacher is going to play with you and maybe ask you some questions, ok?

Ainslie: Ok. What are we going to play?

Me: Well, I'm not sure, but probably lots of things. Can you try everything for the teacher, just so she can see whether you can do it? Like, if she asks you to stack some blocks, can you just show her how?

Ainslie: Ok. I'll stack them all the way to the light!

Me: Great! Thank you! If she asks you questions, you can answer her, ok? Like, if she asks your favorite things to play, or eat, or your favorite stories, you can tell her, ok?

Ainslie: Ok. Let's pretend that you are the teacher and we are there right now.

Me: Ok. Hi, I'm Mrs. Wilson. What is your name?

Ainslie: My name is Ainslie. Ainslie Jane Wilson. I live on Eagle Ridge, Chatham Illinois.

Me: Well, it's nice to meet you. Ainslie, what do you like to play?

Ainslie: I just LOVE to stack blocks! It's so amazing!

Yeah. I think we're ok.

Must Be My Lucky Day

At Sam's Club, you have to have your receipt checked as you walk out the door--so it's Ainslie's job to hold onto it as we leave. Some nice clerks turn the receipt over and draw a happy face. Ainslie loves that. The first time it happened, I must've said, "It's your lucky day!" because now, every time it happens, she gushes, "Must be my lucky day!"

Anyway. Today something great happened. Well, nothing actually happened. Well, some things happened that weren't so great--but I digress. I went in to request a sub for a class next week (reference the not-so-great thing, i.e. a husband who can't be relied on to fill in with child care even though he is MORE than happy for the income, but again, I digress.) While I was talking to my boss, she mentioned more classes for next quarter.

That is a great thing. The thing that has me kind of flabbergasted is that I think I am going to refuse one of them. I am already stretched pretty thin right now. I have had too many days lately where Ainslie watches too much TV. One class meets at night, once a week. That one, I definitely want. The other one is twice a week starting at noon. Yuck. That cuts into waterpark time with friends, plus it means I have to either get a babysitter or ask my in-laws (who would probably say yes) to watch Ainslie. I don't want to. I want to have fun with my monkey this summer before she starts preschool and grows up a little too much. For right now, I don't have to take the class.

I never thought, when I started staying at home, I'd have so much work (I mean the kind that pays money--then there's the other!) I feel like this is some sort of milestone. I have enough contract work (that I do mostly when Ainslie is asleep) that I don't have to teach both sections. Lucky me!

No Idea Where She Gets It

"Grammie, I was talking and talking at gymnastics yesterday and do you know what Ms Kathy did tell me? She said I am a...a...a...Motormouse!"

Dedicated to Tammy: Chiropractic Nirvana

Ahhhhhhh.
I've seen a chiropractor 3 times now and ahhhhhh. Slept like a rock last night. The pinched nerve in my neck that has been making my hands go numb for months is slowly getting unpinched. Traction rocks.

Anyway, Tammy, my friend, have YOU called a chiropractor yet? Your post several weeks ago about taking care of yourself has really been inspiring me lately--I'm also getting a haircut in 50 minutes, by the way.

You Lost Me At "Babysitter."

I don't know whether anyone remembers my story about the student (who is in his 30's) who I hadn't met all quarter, who then e-mailed me the next-to-last week of class telling me how important his job is and how although he had never been to my class, he knew everything and would like to take the final and pass the class...? Maybe I posted it on PALP---anyway, he strikes again!

Last night, he actually showed up in a different class on Week 2 of the quarter! After class, he approached me and gave me the "my -job- is- so- important -I- work- at -the -mercy -of- the -legislative- session- because- I- am- a -lobbyist" spiel. My attitude is, if you don't have time to take a class, don't sign up for it.

Anyway, I very sweetly explained to him that I completely understand where he is coming from. I also have other commitments--I do consulting work at all hours of the clock and stay home full time with a child--yet since I committed to teach this class, I get to class.

"Yeah, but...is it really that important that I actually be present in class? I mean, this is my second career and all and I already know the information..."

(Silently) "Oh, really, you little pipsqueak?" (Aloud) "Look, B, everyone in here has other commitments. Yet, we make it to class. You will be graded by the same syllabus requirements as everyone else. If my husband can't get home in time, or I can't get a babysitter, I still have to find a way to get here, because I said I would."

"Oh, wow, if only I could get a babysitter to do MY JOB."


Alrighty then. We're on.

Words of Wisdom

Ainslie: Mom, chicken nuggets are just like candy.
Me: Really? Why do you think so?
Ainslie: Because if you eat too many you get sick and throw up.

The Power of Generosity

The project I am working on right now is based on Keith Ferrazzi's book, Never Eat Alone, and it talks about how relationships are the key to success in life. One of the cornerstones of this philosophy is Be Generous and Give--and Don't Keep Score. Without getting into the boring details (unless you are an ID geek) of the course, let me just say that I have been really focusing lately on how other peoples' generosity toward me has put me where I am--which is usually a pretty good place.

Today, I'd just like to give a few shout-outs of thanks.

To Wade, without your 'in' at the CPD (and you sharing that with me) I may not have gotten that job, which means I may never have been Training Manager anywhere yet. Also, because of your generosity of bringing me into that first project, I am living my dream of working AND being a SAHM. Thank You!

To my parents and in-laws--thank you for taking care of Ainslie as often as you do so I can Have It All, without worrying.

To Holly--Thank you for being so generous to Ainslie and I that first week at ballet--and ever since! Thank you for sharing such a fun group of moms and kiddos with us. You don't know how much that has helped us feel at home!

To Tracy--Thank you for being The One Who Knows Everything About Moving to Chatham. Without your generous sharing of information I would know much less about preschools, swimming lessons, the library, furniture stores, and Knight's!

To Jena and Heather--Thanks for, well, Everything! Mostly for listening. I know best friends are supposed to be generous with support, but you guys are superstars. Oh, and Jena, thanks for making me read Harry Potter. What would I be without Harry in my life?

To Suzi, Candy and Heather--thanks for being generous with friendship and sarcasm. :-)

To PALP and everyone there--Thank You for saving my sanity (for real) over the past 6 years. I'm not sure Ainslie would be here if it weren't for the support and friendship you've shared.

I'm probably missing people. My point is that I really feel so blessed and humbled, and also inspired to be generous myself, with friendship, information, job leads, and even things as simple as smiles.

Mother of the Bride

During a big family love-in/snugglefest last week, Craig says, "Oh, Ainslie, you are going to live with Mommy and Daddy forever, aren't you?"

Ainslie: Yes. No. I'm going to get married.
Me: You are? To whom?
Ainslie: To a boy. When I'm bigger.
Craig: When you're at least 30.
Ainslie: Yeah. And I'm going to wear a long, beautiful Marry dress.
Me: You are?
Ainslie: Yes. Or wait. Mommy, may I just wear my Easter dress?
Me: Sure.

Real Mothers...

I was tagged for this by one of my favorite bloggers (and favorite people I've never met in real life).
The rules state that you post something that goes sort of like this:

Real Mothers blah blah blah. And then add a photo. (or maybe not).
The blah blah blah length is at your discretion.

You know, Real Mothers (ok, most mothers) do a lot of crap.

I'm going to go with this one--
Real Mothers carry on conversations as fictional characters and then analyze the lives of fairy-tale princesses, post-fairy tale. With people not old enough to have developed strong logic skills.

Exhibit A
Date: April 27
Time: Evening
All around the neighborhood on the new bike, as Wendy and Mrs. Darling, speaking in really horrible British accents.
"Motha, do you think I can fly with pixie dust on my new bike? Do you think I can fly all the way back to Neverland?"
"Of course, Wendy, dear, if you think enough happy thoughts, you can fly anywhere." (I may have gotten this flying method confused with Mary Poppins, but she bought it. Same accent, anyway.)
Etc.

Exhibit C
Date: April 24
Time: All. Flipping. Morning. In. The. Car. Driving. To. Chicago.
Ainslie was Ariel. Everything she talked about had to do with Ariel, and her worldview. I had to have some fun, so I asked her if she ever sees her father or sisters anymore. Of course she does! She meets them-- in a boat!
What about Flounder? Did she just write him off?
Of course not! He lives in the sea, right beside her castle!
Does she ever dream about being a mermaid again? Does she have recurring dreams about not being able to breathe the air above the surface.
No.
And, she told Scuttle that it's not a dinglehopper, it's a fork.

Exhibit C, D, E...Z
Date: Almost Daily
Time: Any time we are in public
"What's your name? My name is (fill in the Princess.)"

Cinderella takes the mice to live with her, Snow White occasionally visits the dwarves, and Aurora does not like being called Briar Rose, in case you were wondering.






I just have to add, as sort of an Honorable Mention list, that Real Mothers also wear small ponytail holders around their fingers, carry toddler sized underpants through airport security, sing The Potty Song in the grocery store, and fall into bed, exhausted most nights. Often, on top of some small, sharp, plastic toy.

Tag:
Holly
Suzi
Annie

Ahhhhhhhhh.

Both cars are parked in the garage! The garage door no longer plays the theme to Sanford and Son as it goes up and down! (It was so full of half put-together deck furniture and boxes that it was embarassing to open it during daylight.) The weather is back to Spring, the deck furniture is on the deck, the grill has been fired up and, ahhhhhhh.

Last night we had Craig's family over to grill and ahhhhhh. I always like having people over, but really, after *that* 9 months, I relish having people over in (or outside of) our Own Home.

Seemed like a perfect opportunity to open that bottle of $$$$ wine we've been saving for a special occasion. Wine. Steak. Ainslie and Ben running around. Warm Weather. Cheesecake. Ahhhhhhhh.

Right Place, Right Time

So, this past week I was in Northern Virginia piloting a class we are developing. It was designed for a group of trainers and instructional designers, so we were preaching to the choir, and it was wonderful. Although I missed my little family, of course, it was a somewhat nice change to do what I do and be with adults...

So, twice over the four days I was there I heard people vehemently complain about thir jobs and professions (nobody at our class though, hmmm) and I was struck by how blessed and lucky I am right now. I love my jobs. Being Ainslie's mommy is the best job I could hope for, and yet, I have this other great job where I get to keep my resume up-to-date, travel a bit (and see best friends for free!) and make some pretty great money.

I was there to "mirror" our project manager and take notes on the feedback we were getting from the pilot, and then I will be certified to facilitate it on my own in the future, but for all practical purposes, I was there as Second Banana. I had twinges of Competitiveness, because I think that is just how I am--I want the responsibility, the work, and yes, ultimately, the recognition. Or do I? Right now?

It hit me again--how lucky I am. I have this great part-time job where I don't have to be in charge, 'handle' touchy clients, or stay up all night working (too often.) I have the freedom to say that I can only handle working 20 hours a week (and that stretches my emotional resources) right now. AND, I know there is more work available if and when I am ready to tackle a larger role.

How wonderful is that? Kids are only little once. For Right Now, this is the Right amount of responsibility for me.

French Minor at Work

As hard as it may be to believe, I seldom get to use all the French I acquired once upon a time in undergrad here on the Prairie--other than being able to read wine bottles.

Well, today I am glad to be somewhat francophonic. I saved one of Ainslie's little boutiquey dresses from the dryer, thanks to my deft international reading skills.

Six Years

As of today, April 12, I have been a member of an exclusive club (that I wouldn't wish on anyone) of mothers who have lost babies. April 12, 2001, I had my first miscarriage.
Now, after six years, Of course I remember how heartbroken I was and I will never, ever forget the horror of the next 2.5 years, trying so desperately to get pregnant again...but this post isn't a pity party. Really.

What I was wondering this morning is this: Am I really a different kind of mother because of what we went through to have Ainslie?

I've definitely been impacted forever by those years, but really, do I parent differently?

Yes and No.

I think I am more paranoid about safety. I think I tear up more easily when she says and does certain things. I think I see everyday miracles shining through her on a more frequent basis.

On the other hand...
I think I would still have her in all kinds of activities--that is just the way I am. I think I would still be a fiend about early reading skills. I think I would still hold the same basic philosophies about potty training, spanking, foods, etc.

But.
There is that certain, thing, that je ne sais quoi, that PAL sistas know. It's a fierceness with which I love her that is different. I believe that most mothers love their children more fiercely than anyone else ever will, but this is different. In a way, she is my prize, my wonder, my hard-won little bundle of stars that I had to fight tooth and nail for, and that creates its own category of motherly love.

I still think about the what-if. What if I had a five-year old now? Would I still have my monkey? There is no answer to that question, of course. I do know this--if I didn't have this young person in my life; this thinking, reasoning, climbing, jumping person who comes up with things that astound me, frustrate me, crack me up and make me cry with joy, I would not be who I am--not even close.

Then, of course, there are the wonderful friends I have made through the journey of grief, hope, frustration and joy who again, have helped mold me in so many facets of my life. Thank you, ladies.

So, six years later, I miss that first child, but I am profoundly grateful.

Riding home from Peoria

You know what's funny? An almost-3-yr-old's rendition of "Poor Unfortunate Souls" from The Little Mermaid.
"No, mommy, don't sing this part. I'm Ursula. You can be Ariel... Do I help them? yes INDEED!"

Little update

Whew.

Work is either feast or famine, and lately it's been feast--which is great, but so has every other aspect of life. An embrassment of riches, lol.
I really feel blessed to have this work (and the income), but you know, the timing was really, well, interesting.

The House. It's coming along. We still can't park in the garage, but we're getting there. We are starting a pool over which furniture finally arrives first. Of the plethora of items we ordered, we've received 2 chairs and the kitchen table set. No couch, no bed, no dresser. These companies deliver on Thursdays and Fridays so every week it's the Couch Lottery. Some day we'll win. So, we watch tv on a beanbag and the glider from Ainslie's old room.

Ainslie. Getting adjusted to everything. Growing like a weed. (Ok, a flower, she's far too pretty to be a weed.) Yesterday, we enrolled for preschool. It turned out to be quite easy, after all my hemming and hawing over it. Catholic preschool 5 minutes away, we know another family that goes there, the head teacher lives directly behind us. The other family that goes there that we know isn't Catholic either. We visited yesterday and Ainslie walked in like she owned the place, said Good Morning to Mrs. O'Brien and started playing. Ok. I wasn't worried about academics anyway, and I'm sure by the time kindergarten rolls around we'll have mastered Not Taking Things Away From Others and Not Grabbing Other People as well as some reading.

All in all, things are frantic, but good. I never thought I'd be so *happy* to live in a newer construction subdivision. New construction rocks! ;-)

Accidents, and excellent reasoning skills

Ainslie: Why do we need a new lightswitch? (cover)
Me: Daddy cracked the old one when he was putting it back on. He didn't mean to. It was an accident.
Ainslie: Oh. Remember when I pooped at the Y? That was an accident.

Interview with the Atheist

I have this draft saved of an entry I wrote about Hope a few weeks ago. I haven't gotten around to cleaning it up to say exactly what I want to express, what with so many of my hopes being realized lately...

Shifting gears completely, at least for a moment, I want to talk about the people I work with. Working as an independent contractor, I don't always work with other people, except for clients. Usually, this is a perfect arrangement, because I can set my hours for when Ainslie is sleeping. For the foreseeable future however, I am working as part of a team of people from all over the US.

Last year about this time, I was working on a huge, fast-paced national delivery project, and I had the opportunity to get together with my teammates twice, and I was so impressed by the people working for this company. Not only are they smart and talented, they are Good People. As an example, two of the founders/partners are grandparents who, a couple years ago felt called to adopt a child from a very poor part of the world, and ended up adopting FOUR older children, from a vastly different culture--at a time when most people their age are enjoying the freedom of an empty nest.

Last week, I went to a team meeting for the Big Client I am working with now, and again, I was struck by how Good these people are. Smart, Creative, Talented, and Warm, Caring, and Sensitive.

One person, in particular, (whom I also met last year) strikes me as particularly caring, open, and warm. Over lunch one day, he was also called out as the only atheist in the group. Now, most of the rest of us are people of faith (and Christian faith at that)and are pretty open about it with each other. (Did I mention that another of the founders/partners is also an ordained minister?)

So, over lunch, we tried to get W to admit to some inkling of spirituality. He insists he has none. No Higher Power, No souls, No...anything. I asked if I could ask him a question, insisting I wasn't trying to be rude or put him on the spot--actually 2 questions.
1. In his view, are events somehow connected? Does he believe in Fate, or the pull of The Universe?
and
2. What does Hope mean to him?

His answer to the first question is that he thinks that actions impact other actions, like a ripple effect (which I don't think anyone would argue with,) but no, he doesn't believe in any sort of Plan.

My second question left him quiet for a few moments.

You see, to me, Hope is so inextricably tied to Faith. Hopes are almost always prayers. Without my faith, it is difficult to imagine Hope, and as sometimes it feels Hope is all we have, really, it is Faith that gets us through the dark times. So--if you don't have faith, can you have Hope?

He finally answered that to him, Hope is just a wish. A goal to work toward. A bid for good luck. But it stumped him for a moment.

Interesting. At least to me. I still believe he has a soul. A sweet, caring, warm, sensitive soul.

Today we chased a ball across a corn field

far, far, across the corn field. We weren't paying attention as we took a little bike ride down the sidewalk and when we came back, the new Big Pink Ball was gone. Because it is so bright, I saw it winking at us in one of the cornfields that borders us (well, almost borders us, it is behind the neighbors across the street.) So, a hiking and a-mucking we went. Ainslie went piggy-back style as we trudged over the plowed field, seriously, a long way, and then back. A far cry from the city limits of Chicago!

Really, though, we are thrilled with the neighborhood. The neighbors are so friendly and everyone is out playing with their kids after school on nice days. Ainslie is the youngest, but the older kids are so great with her--that's why we lost the ball, we were chatting with a hilarious kindergartner from 3 houses up ("I saw you guys got a new refrigerator. How do you like it so far?") G across the street is 10 and the only other girl and has taken to Ainslie like a big sister, and Ainslie has already invited her to her birthday party. Not bad for less than 2 weeks.

Soon, the furniture will be here, work will calm down a little bit and we can just enjoy. Meanwhile, I am incredibly grateful every morning when I get up and walk into my kitchen, where my coffeepot has already brewed my coffee, which I pour into my mugs.

So happy and relieved!

We are officially homeless for a few more hours. Never thought I'd be happy about that!
Just spoke with one of the WONDERFUL people at WaMu and she has everything just about ready for our 4pm closing. YAY! 13 days ago, the mad rush began.

In a few short hours we will own a nice, modern, spacious house in a good school district, close to family, and with a smaller mortgage! YAY! God IS Good. ;-)

I can't wait for Ainslie to get here and see her new room. I've put off ordering a headboard (I'm considering making her one...) but I got her a bedframe, quilt, blanket, and of course she has her princess sheets (plus I found a nice match-the- blanket set at Kohls for--get this--$4.50! Thank you, clearance!) I'm hoping she'll love her new purple room.

Things will continue to be crazy at least until the 21st, but then they should calm down a wee bit, at least I won't have to travel after that (fingers crossed), and really, that's only three weeks.

Which reminds me, it's March! Happy Birthday Luke, Kaitlyn, Ashley, Lauren...hope I'm not forgetting anyone! You know what's great about March? Ah, the first day of Spring! I am a dyed-in-the-wool Midwesterner, but oh how I abhor winter.

Another great thing about March is that in 2 weeks we are going to see the Princesses on Ice. Oh, I just can't wait to see Ainslie's face! Who would ever have thought Craig and I would be so excited to go to one of these?

All in all, things are looking UP. Hopefully there will be no more whining from me for awhile.

Countdown to Deathly Hallows

and another Peanut Gallery comment from me today

I find it annoying that I have to change into "professional attire" to go teach at night. Somehow, it would be easier to do first thing in the morning, but after spending the whole day in jeans or yoga pants, it's so haaaaard to change into real clothes. Poor me. ;-)

Note to Self (and Suzi)

Those cute little cans of Diet Coke? Pl-ease. Not even close.

Shhhhhhhhhhhh...

I shouldn't spend the money, and I don't really have the time, but in between having a deadline on a portion of a project tonight, running some house errands, and packing up our stuff here, I'm getting a massage!

Heehee!

A very very very fine house

So, I have another tab open with all the work I need to be doing with my Ainslie-free days here (although I'd rather have her with me!), but I need a moment to catch up with myself and anyone else who happens along my rambling.

The house is empty. I didn't think I'd be sad, but closing the doors felt bittersweet. We joked all weekend about 'who would buy this house?', but really, it's a great little house. It's on a great block with wonderful neighbors. It's the house we finally got pregnant and became parents in. It's the place Ainslie took her first steps--I'll never forget the sound of her tentative clomp, clomp, clomping up behind me there in the kitchen.

I loved the screened-in back porch and the patio. I loved the countless evenings we spent hanging out back there, neighbors wandering in and out, sometimes with a bottle of wine. I loved the laundry chute.

Anyway, for a small family, we really filled that house, and with more than love. I thought I'd given away a ton of stuff, but holy cow--we have a lot of things. Or maybe the truck is just too small. ;-) Anyway, we have to make a trip back up to collect some things from a neighbor's garage.

Speaking of stuff, I can't wait to have mine back. Have I lived without it for the past 9 months? Of course, and I could live the rest of my life without it, but you know, it's mine. My favorite coffee cups. My dishes. My towels. Just to have things back and organized in closets and cabinets instead of boxes--priceless.

What did I learn this past year? What was I supposed to have learned? Well, I learned that home really is where you live with your own little family. When we first started looking at houses here, we would drive through subdivisions and declare whether they were Too Expensive, About Our Speed, or We Can Do Better Than That. Well, for what it's worth, I've learned that ANY house can be a home, and any house looks pretty darned good after you've lived without one for awhile.

I've learned that children are even more resilient than I knew. I've learned about new kinds of mommy guilt. I've learned a lot about my in-laws, and therefore, my husband. Yeah, new light was shed on many idiosynchracies, lol.

I learned that living with more than 1 or 2 pets is just not for me. I learned that I guess you can do anything when you have too. I learned (well, learned again) that God listens and has a plan. I also learned again that I'm perhaps not always a fan of the part of the plan that involves me being patient. ;-)

So--I need to send some faxes and cross everything and pray hard that our closings go without any hitches! My St. Louis trip got pushed back a bit, so I have a couple more days to unpack next week, so phew.

Now I really need to get to work!

When it Rains...

Last week at this time I was bored. Well, maybe a little excited about moving if we successfully made a lease agreement on our house, but definitely understimulated. The past several days have been a flurry. Now, here is my schedule:

Tomorrow--take Ainslie to meet my mom 2.5 hours away. Say goodbye to my Heart for 10 days.
Tomorrow night, 2/21--begin teaching a new class at RMC, then drive to Chicago with Craig, get in around midnight.
Thursday and Friday 2/22, 2/23--pack the house, finding time somewhere to meet with our attorney.
Saturday 2/24--move
Sunday-Wednesday 2/25-2/28 --develop learning objectives for a new project I was just assigned to that is SO wonderful but starting at such a rough time. Pack up our rooms here. Stress about closings happening. Physically go to the Village office to have the electricity switched to our names.
Thursday 3/1--buy a house
Friday 3/2--move in
Saturday-Sunday 3/3, 3/4--unpack, get my GIRL back!
Monday 3/5--unpack, get cable and internet installed.
Tuesday-Wednesday 3/6, 3/7--go to &*%%^ St Louis for 2 days, after JUST getting my baby girl back, for the project kickoff.
3/8----- work almost FT on this project, which is wonderful in terms of affording new furniture, just wish it could maybe start a little later.
3/18-3/20 -go to Maryland for rescheduled film shoot
3/22--girls' night in Galena--WHOOHOO. (Can we get massages?)

More things I love about our new house

Really, after owning a 2-bedroom condo and a 50+ year-old bungalow in the city, there are so many modern touches we are looking forward to living with. I must list them!

* Master bedroom with awesome bath
* Double sinks!
* Lots of closet space everywhere
* More kitchen counterspace and cabinets than I've ever had before
* A fireplace!
* Attached garage!
* Not just 2, but THREE full baths!
* Main floor laundry room
* a room just for toys
* did I mention closet space?
* open floor plan

Now, to get busy following up on all of Friday's phone calls...

Adrenaline!

No sleep and lots of coffee--is that why I'm so jittery? No silly, I"m jittery because I'm so excited and I'm loopy on relief and happiness! Even the forecast has temps in the 50's in a few days!

So much to do...

Why isn't the rest of the world up and ready to take my urgent phone calls this early?

Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalaaaaaaaaa!

Lots of calls to make, playdate (with a new friend we will be living SO close to) this morning, then making the offer on the house at 2:30...hope to find out today whether we can move in before the closing...more calls to make...fun window shopping this weekend for a fridge and paint colors because we can afford to paint! We're going for sort of a "Hemingway in his Key West period" theme in the living room. What color would you paint?

Have I mentioned WHOOOOOHOOOOOOOOO?

Celebration!

If you haven't read it on a message board or in an e-mail, let me just say:

OUR HOUSE IS SOLD!

They want to close at the end of THIS month. The one that is half over. OK! They could have asked for all the furniture and we'd have said, SURE, at this point!

In a few weeks:

Ainslie can be as loud as she needs to be
I don't have to wear a robe out of modesty all the time
I won't have to carry my clothes into the bathroom with me
I will have a closet!
I won't have to lock the bathroom door and listen to Ainslie turning the knob and trying to get in--she can just meander in and out
I can decorate for Easter!
I can plan Ainslie's b-day party
I can organize play dates at OUR house
NO gates to keep dogs corralled
NO dobermans
I can grocery shop and cook like a normal person again

Relieved. Thrilled. Grateful. Happy. Exhausted!

Thanks, Walt!

"Mom, I can't find my Snow White shirt and it's breaking my heart."

"Mom, do you like my new dress? I got it at the store yesterday." (head toss) "Do you like my long yellow hair?"

Again, thank you Disney...?

God makes them cute for a reason

Terrible Twos. We've always said we'd rather have a Bart Simpson than a Martin Prince, and boy, do we. No fear. No fear of parental consequences either. The past few days (in part because of the weather) have been peppered with what I call fits of the 2-yr crazies. The running and screaming and refusal to listen and follow directions...

I know things would be better in our own house (maybe really soon!?), where she can run and scream and not bother anyone but me during the day, but really, sometimes I expect pea soup.

So then, she does something heartbreaking.

I love to listed to her talk to Baby. She is so sweet and nurturing as she says things like, "oh, my precious baby daughter" and "don't worry, hon, mommy's here..." It almost brings tears to my eyes and makes me forget the throwing of 5 puzzles across the bedroom, or the thousands of rubber bands she set free...

And then. She finally gave Baby a name, after 14 months. Carla. "Like my mommy."

And one funny moment for my Illinois friends...

At the rally, Senator Durbin (The warm-up act, lol) was announcing some of the people present...

Mayor of Springfield...yayyyyy
Elected state officials....yayyyyy
Governer Blago... ehh. The apathy was deafening. ;-)

The Audacity...

Funny, I've been writing a whole other post about Hope. Then, this morning, we went to see Barack Obama announce his candidacy for the presidency.

Wow.

I felt so...inspired. Proud. Hopeful. I'm not saying right now that Obama will or even should be our next president, there is still a long time left until the 2008 election, but so far, I like the man I've seen and heard.

He is intelligent and articulate; but so are many people. He is warm. Again, so are many others. He talks about the issues most voters care about--so do all politicians. In spite of all these similarities to most other politicians, something about him just shines. He resonates sincerity. He seems to have entered public service and politics for more of the right reasons than any other national political figure I've ever heard speak, and having worked downtown Chicago for several years, I've seen my share of live rallies.

He speaks proudly of his Christian faith without condemning or marginalizing those who do not share it. He speaks of uniting this country. He did not speak one word, not one personal allusion, against any opponent, from either party.

He did speak out about Iraq, and the mistakes he thinks the current administration has made; but instead of continuing to lay blame and take cheap shots, he talked about how we can end our involvement realistically.

I'm not doing him justice at all. Let me just say that for the first time in years, standing in the cold with Ainslie climbing all over me (you WILL witness history, young lady!), in the same place Lincoln announced his candidacy, I felt so proud to be a voter in this country. Whether Obama is nominated, much less wins, is yet to be seen, but flag-waving, hooping and hollering, uniting, gatherings like this, so full of excitement and hope, have been too few in the past few years.

How far south have we moved, anyway?

Ainslie used a Hickcent last night, out of the blue. We were finishing bathtime, and she says, "Mawmmy, late's go put my jaamie's on."
After giggling, I asked her why she was talking like that.
"Because ay waant to."
So I asked her who she's heard talk like that...
"Thaat mane who sangs 'My Grandpa, He's 95."

Steve Miller Band. Dance, Dance, Dance--her favorite song from Daddy's mix cd last summer. Great.

(Ainslie) Jane of the Jungle

I thought we were done with the climbing.

Last night, really, it had only been about a minute--I tested the bath water for temperature, stepped out into the hall and found a trail of clothing, shoes, and hair accessories leading to our bedroom, where Naked Ainslie was poised to jump off the bed onto the diaper pail she'd placed perilously far from the bed and close to the door facing. With a wild shriek, there she went. BOING...Boing...boom.
Bewildered, I asked my miraculously unhurt monkey, "What are you doing?" Dumb question, I know. The answer consisted of another jungle-girl shriek and running away, down the hall.

This morning, the potty chair had been moved near the dresser, and I caught her just as she was trying to balance the nefarious diaper pail on top of the potty. You see, there is hand lotion, waaaay up high. Potty chair, your job is officially over. Ainslie can make her way to the big potty every time from now on. Diaper pail, you weren't pulling your weight anymore anyway, with just a few nighttime wet pull-ups.

Now what? Suction cups?

Alchemy

A child can't actually turn into a chicken nugget, right?

January is over, optimism is building

Who really likes January anyway? The best thing about February 1 is that January is o-ver.



Today the high in Chicago is 6, and we have a showing! We also start a contract with a realtor I am over the moon for next Sunday. He sells about 70% of the property in our neighborhood. I know it's terrible to say, but I so wish we'd listed with him in the first place. Water under the bridge now, but he's actually been in most of the houses we are competing with, so he knows what is what.



My parents are keeping Ainslie for me while I go to Maryland and I am grateful and I am going to stop worrying. I also get to spend some quality girlfriend time with Jena while I'm out there and that will be wonderful.



One more thing to be happy about--we got our pictures back 2 days early. Not showing Craig is driving me crazy--

Babbling

I just need to post a catch-up entry for myself, to sort out the cobwebs that are beginning to form.

Where to begin? The easiest place is usually with Ainslie. This morning, she was asked to try the 3-4 yr-old gymnastics class tomorrow morning. She just isn't being challenged in her current class. The test will be to see if she can behave without me down there with her. I think she can, but the question is will she? She knows one of the boys from her former class, and I really enjoy talking to his mom, so I'm looking forward to it.

This brings me back to the topic of preschool. It seems to be all my mommy friends can talk about lately. Everyone seems so excited about starting in the fall (most of our Little Friends turn 3 in spring or summer this year.) I just don't know. I was all set and kind of psyched to check out a couple of the Montessori schools, but I worry about the locations because I don't know where we will be living. Frustrating. I don't know why I feel so opposed to traditional preschool--I guess I just think that 1) Ainslie will be sitting in a chair listening to teachers for 20+ years, 2) Child-led education seems like a better way to ensure a life-long love of learning, and 3) I think Ainslie would thrive in a less structured setting.

I'll stop short of bragging this time, but really, hard academics are not a concern. Listening to a teacher is getting better (although we'll see tomorrow.) Playing with other children has improved greatly in the past 6 months (of course it has, she's maturing normally.) So, I guess I'm still wondering if we need preschool in the fall. On days when I lean toward it, I wonder if it is just peer pressure. Really, wouldn't Ainslie do just as well doing gymnastics and one other activity a couple mornings a week? She's writing her letters, for Pete's sake! On the other hand, am I doing her a disservice by not letting her further explore her interests in a place that has exciting learning centers to discover?

This is hard.

In other news, I start teaching again in a couple weeks. This quarter I'll be teaching Career Development; writing resumes, interviewing, job searching, etc. I love this stuff. Now, I just need a morning where I'm dressed appropriately enough to go pick up the materials. One thing I LOVE about teaching here is the syllabus is already written. Cakewalk!

In other work news, I am supposed to go to Maryland at the end of February for the film shoot of a video we've been scripting. I'm really excited to go play Production Assistant for a few days. The downside is (Tammy...) childcare. My parents are more than happy to take Ainslie, but it seems so silly to have them meet me in St. Louis twice over such a short period of time. If we only had our own house...

And the house.
I'm hoping and praying the last people who looked put in an offer this weekend. Hey, it could happen. Meanwhile, we're interviewing replacement realtors Friday morning. We need our own space, and there is a dog living here that I am just about to kill. Seriously.A shot of Lily's insulin and it would be all over.

Two of the houses we were really interested in have sold, but there are others. All prayers welcome.

Arts and Literature

A: Draw me a picture, mommy.
Me: What would you like me to draw?
A: Ummmm, a butterfly!
(I oblige.)
Me: Now, what will you draw?
A: I'll make a butterfly too!
(She does a surprisingly good impression of mine, only much smaller.)
Me: Ainslie, that's wonderful! Good job!
A: Mom, it's a lower-case butterfly.

Picasso of the Alphabet

After 2 less-than-flattering preschooler posts in a row, I think it's time for a shameless brag.

Really, really shameless.

Ainslie is learning to write! I am so pleased. For someone who tells me the 'right' way to color is to scrub a whole crayola's worth of some unnatural color onto one part of a picture, I think she does a great job.

So far, she can accurately and recognizably write O,o (of course), H, E, e ("wook! A wower case 'e', mom!")F, T, t, I, i, X, x, and y. A and V are getting there, but she doesn't quite understand how to leave the marker on the paper, so she picks it up and starts the other line quite a ways away from the first one. We are working on a and Q as well, but I think she doesn't like to mess up her nice round O's.

She also draws a stellar Happy Face.

I trust that by the time she goes to college the coloring thing will have improved a little.

Cage Match

I remember reading, in horror, stories of terrible people who were found keeping their children in cages. How could someone do that? I'm now beginning to wonder whether they were on to something.

Ainslie was moved out of her crib because she was vaulting over the side rail; obviously this was unsafe. Now, she is in a twin bed that she has been getting out of for 2 hours straight the past 3 nights. If I only had a 'lid' for her bed. Maybe something like this already exists? I'm off to Google. If not, I think there is an untapped market for Child Cages, cleverly disguised in bold or pastel colors as 'bed buddies' or something like that.

There was a little girl, who had a little curl...

Remember the rest of this nursery rhyme? I live with the subject. When she is good, she is very, very good, and the rest of the time, well, she's 2 and a half. For the first time last night, I identified with some of the old-time-fundamentalist-tent-revival folks who think naughty children need demons cast out of them! Seriously, she was downright impish, and not in the cute way. I took away dress-up clothes, then the easel and art supplies, tried time-out (would you believe she got OUT OF THE CHAIR five times in a row?!) and nothing phased her. I'll even admit that I spanked her, and still, no reaction (which just makes my belief that spanking doesn't do any good that much stronger.)

I know they've been called the Terrible Twos for generations, and most people tell me three is even worse. I know she is developing emotionally and is only 31 months old. I know it is my job (one that I prayed for for years) to get us all through this, but YIKES.

So last night, after screaming through the furniture store, trying to wipe the dogs' noses with kleenex after being told not to a dozen times (the dogs loved that), whining, whining, and more screaming, disagreeing with everything she was told, the time-out incident, and getting out of bed 5 million times, finally, at 10 pm she appears to be un-possessed for a minute. I held her and told her that I love her more than anything in the whole wide world, even when her behavior is bad and I am upset with her. I told her that because I love her I have to make sure she doesn't grow up to be a brat, but a nice girl and a loving person. Her response? "Like you, mommy?' Awwwwwwwwww. Sincerity or cleverly outwitting me?

A tonic for the spirit....and the spirits mixed with tonic didn't hurt!

I'm better now. Ignoring reality for a week with Craig was just what we needed. We've never taken such a laid-back vacation before, and really, it was perfect. The weather was 80-85 degrees and sunny every day, we ate too much, probably drank too much, laughed a lot, and got lots of sun. We swam in the ocean and parasailed above it (that was the biggest highlight!) We got dressed in grown-up clothes and ate long fancy dinners where nobody was screaming. During the day we wore swimsuits under our clothes. We worked out each day in the fitness center and still managed to gain a few pounds each, and we don't even care. We've been talking a lot about doing this one more time next year, before Ainslie is really old enough to enjoy a family trip somewhere.



Of course, we missed Ainslie like crazy, but each time we called her at Grammie and Grampie's house she was "playing the piano and singing twinkle, twinkle, so I'll have to call you back" or only had enough time to say, "I love you too, here's Grammie" so I think she was just fine. We did all enjoy quite the snugglefest when we picked her up, but I think a good time was had by all.



Our house had two showings while we were gone--not bad for an ice storm. We are supposed to interview realtors next weekend.



Here are a few pictures of our week in Winter Paradise. I keep laughing, thinking about those Celebrity commercials where the guy is in his office, back from his cruise, and says, "I think of this as a temporary exile." True! Reality at 20 degrees and no buffets is a little rough.

I can't even cry anymore

Too much time on my hands today, apparently.

I have just needed to have a good cry lately, and I can't. I am the person who cries at everything. Seriously, someone looks at me wrong and I fall apart. I hear a sad song and cry in public. Now, I can't. Maybe having to be on best behavior while we're living here has done that to me, maybe that part of me just isn't reachable right now. Now, see this, typing that, I well up, I want to cry...I just can't.

I am so TIRED of living like this! I want my own space, my own towels, and I don't want Ainslie to have to be so quiet in the mornings. I want to be able to cook and bake on cold days and make a huge mess in my kitchen. I want a freaking closet.

I want SOMETHING to change. Why did we do this? What have we gotten ourselves into? When can the next part of life please start?

I don't know what to do. I pray and pray and pray and apparently, us selling our house just isn't part of the plan. I pray for patience, and so far, well...I'm writing this post, so what does that say?

I want out of this limbo. I want a house. I want to pay off the debt we've accrued (which we will do when the d*&^ house sells.) I want to live in house with fewer than 9 animals. I want to grocery shop and cook like a normal person. I want to stay home some mornings. I want to cry.

Crossing the aisle

In the past, I have been a world-class clearance shopper for Ainslie. So far, I have been on-the-money at guessing what size she will be in a year later, as I've cleaned up at several stores' end of season blowouts, including those at the Michigan Avenue flagship Gap store, when I was still working downtown (and last year when I wasn't!) It has been such a rush to leave the stores with TONS of cute clothes from higher-end stores for less than what I would have paid at Target of Kohls (not that I don't hit their sales too!)



Anyway, it may be the end of an era. Besides the fact that money and space are short right now, so are some of Ainslie's pants. The 3's I bought her for this spring fit now, with no length to spare. I've only been buying 4T's lately. This morning in Kohl's I was perusing some of the Christmassy dresses, thinking of next year, and I got a horrible sick feeling in my stomach. Ainslie probably won't even be in toddler sizes by fall/winter/Christmas.



How did this happen? Why is it so sad to think about moving across the aisle to 4-6x? How did my little dream baby get to be this amazing person who talks and thinks and climbs and negotiates?



I look at her sometimes and I think, ok, if this is it, if we don't get to have another child, I can learn to live with that. Look at her; she's spun-gold perfection. On the other hand, I really feel that our family is not yet complete.



I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. We aren't even earnestly TTC, the old fear just doesn't go away. Meanwhile, thank goodness Gymboree's lines stay basically the same from toddlers to girls'.

www.dictionary.kid

"Along came a spider, who sat down beside her, and meetened Miss Muffett away."

"What does meetened mean?"

Sigh. "Mo-om. It means he CHASED her!"

Ugh.

It's been a bleak couple of days. It's been hard to summon my usually positive attitude--I feel so heavy, stressed, and worried about everything. I'm hoping the darkest hour is just before the dawn, but meanwhile, I could use a couple of slaps and a reminder to put on my big-girl pants.

Ready to Go

Ah. January 2. I've never been a fan of January, per se, (snow after Christmas is not welcome in my world) but there is something nice about January 2. I'm not the kind of person who can stay in pajamas all day; I need to get shaking in the morning, and as much as I love the Christmas holidays, there is something refreshing about January 2. This is the day to start things up again, to get moving, to look at a fresh year getting ready to unfold.

I like change. I like new things. The trouble is when I am ready for change, but change hasn't happened yet. Here I sit, perched on this promising January 2, and I'm relatively powerless to move toward the things I would like to happen this year. For all practical purposes, I could still be in my pajamas, but I'm not. I'm dressed "down to my shoes" as Flylady says, and I'm waiting. Whenever changes arrive, I'm ready.

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not to thine own under standing. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” Proverbs 3:5-6