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