Today I have to post an "I love this age" entry about Ainslie. Last night I could have just as easily posted an, "Urrrrggghhh this age where they talk, talk, TALK for HOURS at a time!" entry, but today is better. :-)
I love this age. I love seeing her progress with her "reading" and with her imaginative games. This morning while I was getting myself ready she was reading to Baby. She has just about all of her favorite books memorized, so she just imitates me. It was downright heart-melting that she even sings, "Pajama Time" instead of reading it. If she can't remember the words on a particular page, she narrates by using the picture. Pretty darned resourceful I'd say!
I remember doing the same thing, and I remember Carrie doing that too, especially with Mother Goose rhymes. You don't realize it at the time, but those rhymes are actually good for you--rhyming words, memorization...good stuff! Ainslie is so proud of herself when she can either 'read' or recite a whole Rhyme. Her Humpty Dumpty is Oscarworthy, I tell ya, and she also does a mean Little Miss Muffett. Doesn't she wonder what the heck a tuffett is, or is she "using context to gain meaning?"
The other thing that has me laughing is the pretend play. This morning, all the Disney princesses (except Jasmine--too far? Too rough a time change?) came over, introduced themselves, and then got into the van (Ainslie drove) to go to Bob Evans for cinnamon rolls and coffee, although Ainslie also ordered her staples of mac and cheese, broccoli, chicken fingers and french fries, with milk, juice, and water. Guess I should have fed her a better breakfast. After Bob Evans, they all went to Washington Park, where they played on the various equipment, before getting bored and driving to Rotary Park (aka Rodeo Park if you're 2.) Finally, I had to drive everyone home to the castle, and Ainslie decided to go live at the castle too. That was hard. I'll sure miss her.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
Blessed am I Among Sisters!
If you died today, how many people would mourn you? Possibly a great many. If you died today, how many people would come back to mourn you 10 years from now?
At Carrie's visitation 10 years ago, I was astounded by the number of people in line to say goodbye. Our large church had a massive line snaking out the door. She had so many friends. She was that rare kid who was really popular but also very real, and nice to absolutely everyone. There was no class or clique distiction to her. Well, maybe that is unfair to say since I know she was also very perceptive, but she didn't let some of the meaner social rules pertain to her.
One of the saddest things I have ever seen is the number...the horde...of teenagers crying on her casket at her graveside service. Of course, she died at such a golden age--16. She was a cheerleader, honor student, friends with everyone, of course they mourned her then.
But Now! On Saturday a stone was dedicated to her in our town's new Children's Memorial Butterfly Garden (sad and beautiful place...shudder) and I was astounded and humbled by the number of her friends who came! They came from everywhere! All over the midwest, Texas, NYC---all these "little kids" who are now men and women and husbands and wives and parents and professional people--they came back for Carrie! They still miss her. They still cried. They still love her and consider her a part of their lives! I'm 18 years older than she was when she died and I don't think I have affected nearly as many people. What a spirit she has!
Here are some pictures from the weekend.
After the race Saturday morning, the Educational Foundation presented us with this quilt, made from each logo from the race t-shirts for the past 10 races. My parents were so touched, and my mom did such a graceful job of accepting it! Here we are with it, Carrie's mom and dad, sister, brother-in-law, niece, uncles, aunt, and cousin.
Here is the stone in the garden. It was such a nice event, named Carrie’s Party by two wonderful friends of the family who thought of doing this when the garden was first being planned. It was a gorgeous day, the garden was full of friends, a quartet sang, and I missed Carrie terribly, but at the same time I was so happy to be there, as her sister. How did I get so lucky? It’s a little bit funny (and Carrie would have thought it was very funny,) but the date of death on the stone is actually off by a month—they reordered it and it hadn’t come in yet!
So here we are 10 years later and I am still being inspired by my little sister, to live so large as to be remembered and missed 10 years later; not just by family and close friends, but by a community that has grown and grown.
At Carrie's visitation 10 years ago, I was astounded by the number of people in line to say goodbye. Our large church had a massive line snaking out the door. She had so many friends. She was that rare kid who was really popular but also very real, and nice to absolutely everyone. There was no class or clique distiction to her. Well, maybe that is unfair to say since I know she was also very perceptive, but she didn't let some of the meaner social rules pertain to her.
One of the saddest things I have ever seen is the number...the horde...of teenagers crying on her casket at her graveside service. Of course, she died at such a golden age--16. She was a cheerleader, honor student, friends with everyone, of course they mourned her then.
But Now! On Saturday a stone was dedicated to her in our town's new Children's Memorial Butterfly Garden (sad and beautiful place...shudder) and I was astounded and humbled by the number of her friends who came! They came from everywhere! All over the midwest, Texas, NYC---all these "little kids" who are now men and women and husbands and wives and parents and professional people--they came back for Carrie! They still miss her. They still cried. They still love her and consider her a part of their lives! I'm 18 years older than she was when she died and I don't think I have affected nearly as many people. What a spirit she has!
Here are some pictures from the weekend.
After the race Saturday morning, the Educational Foundation presented us with this quilt, made from each logo from the race t-shirts for the past 10 races. My parents were so touched, and my mom did such a graceful job of accepting it! Here we are with it, Carrie's mom and dad, sister, brother-in-law, niece, uncles, aunt, and cousin.
Here is the stone in the garden. It was such a nice event, named Carrie’s Party by two wonderful friends of the family who thought of doing this when the garden was first being planned. It was a gorgeous day, the garden was full of friends, a quartet sang, and I missed Carrie terribly, but at the same time I was so happy to be there, as her sister. How did I get so lucky? It’s a little bit funny (and Carrie would have thought it was very funny,) but the date of death on the stone is actually off by a month—they reordered it and it hadn’t come in yet!
So here we are 10 years later and I am still being inspired by my little sister, to live so large as to be remembered and missed 10 years later; not just by family and close friends, but by a community that has grown and grown.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Grateful
Today I am thankful for:
1. The fact that I do not have peanut allergies. No Thai food or pbjs would not be much fun.
2. Work! Enough work that is 'what I do' to contribute almost as much as before to the family coffers!
3. The Hyundai is still limping along.
4. We have the means (by robbing Peter to pay Paul, albeit) to replace the Hyundai, weekend after next.
5. We are going to Lee's Summit for Carrie's race next weekend.
6. I got to be Carrie's sister.
7. Ainslie is spunky. (today I choose to be grateful for that)
8. We have a roof over our heads.
9. Chocolate chip cookies.
10. The Philadelphia Chickens CD
11. The fact that I could list 10 things without even having to stop and think.
1. The fact that I do not have peanut allergies. No Thai food or pbjs would not be much fun.
2. Work! Enough work that is 'what I do' to contribute almost as much as before to the family coffers!
3. The Hyundai is still limping along.
4. We have the means (by robbing Peter to pay Paul, albeit) to replace the Hyundai, weekend after next.
5. We are going to Lee's Summit for Carrie's race next weekend.
6. I got to be Carrie's sister.
7. Ainslie is spunky. (today I choose to be grateful for that)
8. We have a roof over our heads.
9. Chocolate chip cookies.
10. The Philadelphia Chickens CD
11. The fact that I could list 10 things without even having to stop and think.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Preschool or Not to School? Lots of Questions.
I've been thinking a lot about preschool lately, mostly because a sleep-deprived toddler whining at you (when you, as a result, are also sleep-deprived) will send your thoughts in the direction of outsourcing.
I don't really know how I feel about preschool at this point. I think that Ainslie should, at some time, attend one, but with the news that there is in fact a reputable preschool nearby that takes 2.5 yr-olds, a decision seems imminent, mostly because if I continue to teach 2 mornings a week, I need to decide whether to continue to mooch off the grandparents, or find a different situation, and either way, there are pros and cons.
Academically, Ainslie is way ahead of the curve. There. I said it. She knows all the letters and the sounds they make, she sight-reads a few words and she memorizes Everything. (Even the obscure Mother Goose rhymes that nobody really knows so we tend to skip over in the book...? Bat, Bat, Come Under My Hat? She knows it better than I do.) Anyway, if you ask her what sound a word starts with, she can correctly identify the letter, even if she can't pronounce it correctly, which is quite amusing.
Me: What sound does Wiggle start with?
A: Wuh. Dubble-woo.
Me: What about Race?
A: Ewww, Awe. (for those that don't speak fluent toddler, she is saying Errrr, R.)
She can count to 20 (although 18 sometimes immediately follows 11), she knows her shapes and colors, including deliniations of darker and lighter. If you ask her favorite color these days, she will tell you it is Light Blue. In short, what is a preschool program designed for 2.5 yr olds going to offer her academically?
Then there is the social aspect. If I hear one more person (and mostly a particular person) tell me that Ainslie needs to socialize because I stay at home with her and therefore runs the risk of being a creepy loner, I may go all Homeskooled in Ruby Ridge on them (her). First of all, she is TWO, and she plays with or alongside other children in the way they all do at that age. Of course I want her to learn to play well with others. I also want her to learn to follow directions, even when she doesn't want to. I'd like her to actually be quiet when I tell her to be quiet. I guess my 'thing' here is that Ainslie is 30 months old and has been going to various Mommy and Me programs since she was 15 months, so yes, I think she is getting adequate social time with her peers without spending 40 hours a week in day care. Since when did day care become the preferable option for tiny kids?
So...I don't know. Six hours a week of preschool certainly will not kill her. I just worry that that on top of gymnastics (which she loves and excels at) is a lot for a not-even-three year old, plus there is a music class here that I think she would enjoy. She plays in the kids' room at the Y a few times a week and we just started hanging out with a group of other moms and 2-yr olds on an informal basis...but then what about the days when I need to work? Then there is the fact that she has 17+ years of formal education in front of her, do we really have to start them earlier and earlier?
I'm rambling. I don't know what the answer is. I don't have to figure it out today. Maybe I won't even be assigned a daytime class next quarter. Maybe she and I will start reading Shakespeare and acting it out in the driveway.
I don't really know how I feel about preschool at this point. I think that Ainslie should, at some time, attend one, but with the news that there is in fact a reputable preschool nearby that takes 2.5 yr-olds, a decision seems imminent, mostly because if I continue to teach 2 mornings a week, I need to decide whether to continue to mooch off the grandparents, or find a different situation, and either way, there are pros and cons.
Academically, Ainslie is way ahead of the curve. There. I said it. She knows all the letters and the sounds they make, she sight-reads a few words and she memorizes Everything. (Even the obscure Mother Goose rhymes that nobody really knows so we tend to skip over in the book...? Bat, Bat, Come Under My Hat? She knows it better than I do.) Anyway, if you ask her what sound a word starts with, she can correctly identify the letter, even if she can't pronounce it correctly, which is quite amusing.
Me: What sound does Wiggle start with?
A: Wuh. Dubble-woo.
Me: What about Race?
A: Ewww, Awe. (for those that don't speak fluent toddler, she is saying Errrr, R.)
She can count to 20 (although 18 sometimes immediately follows 11), she knows her shapes and colors, including deliniations of darker and lighter. If you ask her favorite color these days, she will tell you it is Light Blue. In short, what is a preschool program designed for 2.5 yr olds going to offer her academically?
Then there is the social aspect. If I hear one more person (and mostly a particular person) tell me that Ainslie needs to socialize because I stay at home with her and therefore runs the risk of being a creepy loner, I may go all Homeskooled in Ruby Ridge on them (her). First of all, she is TWO, and she plays with or alongside other children in the way they all do at that age. Of course I want her to learn to play well with others. I also want her to learn to follow directions, even when she doesn't want to. I'd like her to actually be quiet when I tell her to be quiet. I guess my 'thing' here is that Ainslie is 30 months old and has been going to various Mommy and Me programs since she was 15 months, so yes, I think she is getting adequate social time with her peers without spending 40 hours a week in day care. Since when did day care become the preferable option for tiny kids?
So...I don't know. Six hours a week of preschool certainly will not kill her. I just worry that that on top of gymnastics (which she loves and excels at) is a lot for a not-even-three year old, plus there is a music class here that I think she would enjoy. She plays in the kids' room at the Y a few times a week and we just started hanging out with a group of other moms and 2-yr olds on an informal basis...but then what about the days when I need to work? Then there is the fact that she has 17+ years of formal education in front of her, do we really have to start them earlier and earlier?
I'm rambling. I don't know what the answer is. I don't have to figure it out today. Maybe I won't even be assigned a daytime class next quarter. Maybe she and I will start reading Shakespeare and acting it out in the driveway.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Just Babbling
Teaching this morning was so FUN! A real school with real students, not like the college-in-a-box that hired me last fall. I was afraid I would run out of material and I barely got through everything I wanted to say about the chapter we were discussing. It was so fun to put on real grown-up clothes and lipstick(!) for a couple hours too (although I jumped right back in to the shorts/t-shirt ensemble when I got home.) I think this is going to be a great experience and I hope they hire me again next quarter. Doesn't hurt that this will pay for our medical insurance either!
I'm finally getting around to scheduling check-ups for Ainslie and I. I am overdue for my annual and Ainslie needs a shot sometime before she's 2 and a half. Yikes. She is almost 2 and a half. It's hard to pick a pediatrician here because we have the 'other' network, so even though we o know a handful of kids, nobody has a good recommendation. I will ask at our new gymnastics class tomorrow and see if anyone knows. Luckily, we don't have any special needs. Knocking on wood, since Ainslie has always been healthy and hearty.
Speaking of sick kids, my heart just aches for C and Z and all they are going through right now. I never want to be in the position of seeing my child suffer like that. It broke my parents. 10 years later, and they are still not who they used to be. That has been a major turning point in my life; the moment I realized something was so broken that mom and dad couldn't fix it. Of course they have happy times, and Ainslie is a brilliant bright spot--they have friends, they take trips, but I know that there is just this constant weight on their hearts that nothing will lighten.
Continuing on my stream of babble, mom and dad are coming through town tomorrow. Yay. I keep hoping that next time, they can stay at Our House! In the meantime, Ainslie likes going to see them in the hotels with indoor pools.
Enough babbling. Ainslie will be up from her nap soon. She had a big morning with Grandpa. I came home and she was eating a happy meal (with a really cool Ariel crown), had a new stuffed animal, and had ridden the merry-go-round. Twice.
Oh, speaking of Ariel, one more thing. I'm pretty sick of those princesses. They don't do anything. Blech. That said, I will probably purchase the Little Mermaid dvd in the next couple weeks because I do think Ainslie would enjoy it, and watching dvds is an effective bribe at the moment.
I'm finally getting around to scheduling check-ups for Ainslie and I. I am overdue for my annual and Ainslie needs a shot sometime before she's 2 and a half. Yikes. She is almost 2 and a half. It's hard to pick a pediatrician here because we have the 'other' network, so even though we o know a handful of kids, nobody has a good recommendation. I will ask at our new gymnastics class tomorrow and see if anyone knows. Luckily, we don't have any special needs. Knocking on wood, since Ainslie has always been healthy and hearty.
Speaking of sick kids, my heart just aches for C and Z and all they are going through right now. I never want to be in the position of seeing my child suffer like that. It broke my parents. 10 years later, and they are still not who they used to be. That has been a major turning point in my life; the moment I realized something was so broken that mom and dad couldn't fix it. Of course they have happy times, and Ainslie is a brilliant bright spot--they have friends, they take trips, but I know that there is just this constant weight on their hearts that nothing will lighten.
Continuing on my stream of babble, mom and dad are coming through town tomorrow. Yay. I keep hoping that next time, they can stay at Our House! In the meantime, Ainslie likes going to see them in the hotels with indoor pools.
Enough babbling. Ainslie will be up from her nap soon. She had a big morning with Grandpa. I came home and she was eating a happy meal (with a really cool Ariel crown), had a new stuffed animal, and had ridden the merry-go-round. Twice.
Oh, speaking of Ariel, one more thing. I'm pretty sick of those princesses. They don't do anything. Blech. That said, I will probably purchase the Little Mermaid dvd in the next couple weeks because I do think Ainslie would enjoy it, and watching dvds is an effective bribe at the moment.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Static Status Quo
I'm really, really trying to Bloom Where I am Planted. I got a job. I've put Ainslie in activities, we have an offer in on a house; but you know, there is still that overwhelming feeling of Real Life being on hold. It's amazing how much being in your own space defines what you do and how you do it. Here we are, reticent to join certain organizations, even a church, because we don't know for sure where we will be living and when we will be living there.
Should we move forward even more? I really think that putting an offer in on a house was a good step--we're taking control of the things we can control, to some degree, but now what? We pray, we wait, we hope, we lower the price.
In some ways it's like waiting for Ainslie to be conceived. Ok, THAT was much harder and more agonizing, but it was always a question of, "when we have a baby..." Now, it's, "when we are in our new house..." There are hopes and dreams and decorating schemes we can't wait to get started on, yet we have to.
I have some friends who have been through similar situations (both with babies and houses) and I know it'll work out. I know it will. When I start to doubt our decision to move here, something always happens to reassure me, but still...how much longer?
Should we move forward even more? I really think that putting an offer in on a house was a good step--we're taking control of the things we can control, to some degree, but now what? We pray, we wait, we hope, we lower the price.
In some ways it's like waiting for Ainslie to be conceived. Ok, THAT was much harder and more agonizing, but it was always a question of, "when we have a baby..." Now, it's, "when we are in our new house..." There are hopes and dreams and decorating schemes we can't wait to get started on, yet we have to.
I have some friends who have been through similar situations (both with babies and houses) and I know it'll work out. I know it will. When I start to doubt our decision to move here, something always happens to reassure me, but still...how much longer?
Monday, September 18, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Dogs, Cats, and Vegetables
As if four adults, a toddler, and nine (yes, nine) animals were not enough, for the past couple weeks this house has also been home to two vegetables, namely Bob and Larry. For the uninitiated, that would be Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber.
I love this toddler imagination. I love that Ainslie invented Mimi the cat and BagoBago the dog months ago. Today, in the vet's office, I told Ainslie that someday she could have her own cat, and she looked at me rather quizzically and said, "I have Mimi."
So anyway, I don't even remember what prompted Bob and Larry to come live with us, but they just pop up everywhere. The tend to travel on my elbow, so to amuse them, I spin around and give them rides. In the car, they ride in the cupholders. When Ainslie sets them down, they hop along wherever we are going. They like to sleep in Ainslie's pockets.
Honestly, I didn't come up with any of this--it's all Ainslie. I love this kid.
I love this toddler imagination. I love that Ainslie invented Mimi the cat and BagoBago the dog months ago. Today, in the vet's office, I told Ainslie that someday she could have her own cat, and she looked at me rather quizzically and said, "I have Mimi."
So anyway, I don't even remember what prompted Bob and Larry to come live with us, but they just pop up everywhere. The tend to travel on my elbow, so to amuse them, I spin around and give them rides. In the car, they ride in the cupholders. When Ainslie sets them down, they hop along wherever we are going. They like to sleep in Ainslie's pockets.
Honestly, I didn't come up with any of this--it's all Ainslie. I love this kid.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Carrie Jane Foresee June 1, 1980-September 3, 1996
Carrie-Bear,
I really can't believe it's been a decade today since you passed away from us. I remember thinking at the time that someday it would get easier to bear; at some point I wouldn't miss you so much. I realize now that is foolish, for although I carry you with me always, you are always too far away, and I miss you terribly.
I still believe you were there with me that night, in our old room at home. I can still remember so vividly the weight (your weight) on the bed as you told me that you would speak to me in dreams so we could remain close, and you have, although maybe not as much lately, when my mind is so full of other clutter.
I've never felt sorry for you; you are perfect, full of knowledge and with the Lord. I know Heaven is a much funnier place with you there. I do, however, feel sorry for myself almost daily, and I'm sorry if that is selfish, but there are so many things I wish we could share in this life. Of course I wish you were here to be a real, tangible part of Ainslie's life. Although she does still look primarily like Craig, she is looking more like me, and if you put pictures of all three of us at age 2 in a row, we all look like the same girl. She has your sense of humor. She thinks Booger is a hilarious word. She has some of your facial expressions, which is such a blessing, but also a constant reminder that you are not here with us. She almost has your birthday, and she was conceived on a cycle that began September 3rd. I wonder if you and she met before she came here.
I often wonder what you'd be doing in your life by now, at the ripe old age of 26. Your friends are getting married and having babies. Sometimes I think you'd be a globetrotting educator, like Heather, and other times I think maybe you would have been perfectly content to live in Slater like you talked about...but I think you'd be seeing more of the world.
I'm slowly turning into Mom, and you are not here to slap me like you always said you would.
You know, I learned so many lessons from you, the Much Littler Sister, and I am still learning from you and your exuberance. Somehow, at 16, you knew what was really important and what was just silly. Fortunately, we all learned that sometimes the silliness is what is really important.
Today really shouldn't be sadder than any other day; it's just such a milestone. 10 years. In 6 more years you will have been gone as long as you were here, yet your time here will always seem larger. Until Ainslie, you were the one person in the world genetically most similar to me, and even with our age difference, you know, we just had that connection. We get each other.
As much as I miss you, mostly I am terribly grateful that of all the sisters in the world, I got to be yours. I'll see you someday--I expect you to be right there to teach me some more.
Love You Always,
Sissy
I really can't believe it's been a decade today since you passed away from us. I remember thinking at the time that someday it would get easier to bear; at some point I wouldn't miss you so much. I realize now that is foolish, for although I carry you with me always, you are always too far away, and I miss you terribly.
I still believe you were there with me that night, in our old room at home. I can still remember so vividly the weight (your weight) on the bed as you told me that you would speak to me in dreams so we could remain close, and you have, although maybe not as much lately, when my mind is so full of other clutter.
I've never felt sorry for you; you are perfect, full of knowledge and with the Lord. I know Heaven is a much funnier place with you there. I do, however, feel sorry for myself almost daily, and I'm sorry if that is selfish, but there are so many things I wish we could share in this life. Of course I wish you were here to be a real, tangible part of Ainslie's life. Although she does still look primarily like Craig, she is looking more like me, and if you put pictures of all three of us at age 2 in a row, we all look like the same girl. She has your sense of humor. She thinks Booger is a hilarious word. She has some of your facial expressions, which is such a blessing, but also a constant reminder that you are not here with us. She almost has your birthday, and she was conceived on a cycle that began September 3rd. I wonder if you and she met before she came here.
I often wonder what you'd be doing in your life by now, at the ripe old age of 26. Your friends are getting married and having babies. Sometimes I think you'd be a globetrotting educator, like Heather, and other times I think maybe you would have been perfectly content to live in Slater like you talked about...but I think you'd be seeing more of the world.
I'm slowly turning into Mom, and you are not here to slap me like you always said you would.
You know, I learned so many lessons from you, the Much Littler Sister, and I am still learning from you and your exuberance. Somehow, at 16, you knew what was really important and what was just silly. Fortunately, we all learned that sometimes the silliness is what is really important.
Today really shouldn't be sadder than any other day; it's just such a milestone. 10 years. In 6 more years you will have been gone as long as you were here, yet your time here will always seem larger. Until Ainslie, you were the one person in the world genetically most similar to me, and even with our age difference, you know, we just had that connection. We get each other.
As much as I miss you, mostly I am terribly grateful that of all the sisters in the world, I got to be yours. I'll see you someday--I expect you to be right there to teach me some more.
Love You Always,
Sissy
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
My Yucky Day, by Ainslie Wilson
Sometimes it is so hard to be 2 years old.
I woke up this morning, ready to play, but not remembering how tired and behind in my sleep I am. I managed to hold it together through breakfast and some playing with Mom, then I became incredibly sleepy and wet my pants, I mean full-out peed in my shoes, for the first time since I can remember. I swear, I just couldn't get the words out in time. After having a bath at 9:30 am, I felt quite ready for lunch, so I ate my leftover chicken and fries and let mom put me down for a nap.
This was all fine, except I awoke at 11 am with no intention of resting at all for the remainder of the day. Instead, I just felt like crying about everything. Mom got mad at me for my continuous crying, and that just made me feel worse, so I cried more. And louder.
Finally, around 3pm, mom said we could go to the Y. Something about she needed just 30 minutes to herself with no one demanding anything from her...? Anyhoo, we got there and my frazzled mom realized that the kids' room re-opens at FOUR, not one o' clock as she had thought, so I didn't get to play with the kids and Miss Keisha, instead, I had to go to the grocery store.
However, things seemed to be turning around. For once, there was a race car cart available and mom let me ride in it. We got all the things I like: bananas, cereal bars, yogurt, and then mom said we could go to Sam's. I love that place! Today we got to try some brownies and ice cream. Good trip.
When we came out of Sam's, the sun had finally come out and Mommy and I both felt we could make it until Dad came home, and ultimately, bed time. When Daddy came home, he wanted to ride bikes with me, hooray! Mommy said she had work to do (?) so she didn't come, but I rode my bike and Daddy walked to my pretend church around the corner where the sidewalk ends. I got off my bike, took off my helmet, folded my hands and sang, "Jesus Loves Me" and said Peace to all the pretend people. Then, I went up for a blessing and a mean, horrible, stupid BEE stung me on the eye. THAT HURT!
By the time Dad ran me back home and Mommy gave me 2 kinds of medicine, I just wanted this day to be over. I ate a little bit, cried some more, and finally went to sleep. Tomorrow just has to be better.
I woke up this morning, ready to play, but not remembering how tired and behind in my sleep I am. I managed to hold it together through breakfast and some playing with Mom, then I became incredibly sleepy and wet my pants, I mean full-out peed in my shoes, for the first time since I can remember. I swear, I just couldn't get the words out in time. After having a bath at 9:30 am, I felt quite ready for lunch, so I ate my leftover chicken and fries and let mom put me down for a nap.
This was all fine, except I awoke at 11 am with no intention of resting at all for the remainder of the day. Instead, I just felt like crying about everything. Mom got mad at me for my continuous crying, and that just made me feel worse, so I cried more. And louder.
Finally, around 3pm, mom said we could go to the Y. Something about she needed just 30 minutes to herself with no one demanding anything from her...? Anyhoo, we got there and my frazzled mom realized that the kids' room re-opens at FOUR, not one o' clock as she had thought, so I didn't get to play with the kids and Miss Keisha, instead, I had to go to the grocery store.
However, things seemed to be turning around. For once, there was a race car cart available and mom let me ride in it. We got all the things I like: bananas, cereal bars, yogurt, and then mom said we could go to Sam's. I love that place! Today we got to try some brownies and ice cream. Good trip.
When we came out of Sam's, the sun had finally come out and Mommy and I both felt we could make it until Dad came home, and ultimately, bed time. When Daddy came home, he wanted to ride bikes with me, hooray! Mommy said she had work to do (?) so she didn't come, but I rode my bike and Daddy walked to my pretend church around the corner where the sidewalk ends. I got off my bike, took off my helmet, folded my hands and sang, "Jesus Loves Me" and said Peace to all the pretend people. Then, I went up for a blessing and a mean, horrible, stupid BEE stung me on the eye. THAT HURT!
By the time Dad ran me back home and Mommy gave me 2 kinds of medicine, I just wanted this day to be over. I ate a little bit, cried some more, and finally went to sleep. Tomorrow just has to be better.
Greener grass?
Sorry to shock anyone, but being a part-time-contract-work-from-home-stay-at-home-mom is MUCH more physically demanding than going to an office job all day. When I worked out of the home all day I got to sit on my derriere most of the day, eat and drink whenever it was convenient for me, and rarely had to bathe someone in the middle of the day because that person had eaten too many mandarin oranges the day before.
Yesterday, for example, my schedule may have sounded simple: do normal Ainslie things, stop by Robert Morris to pick up books and syllabi, be on a conference call at 9:30, work while Ainslie naps. OK...
Get up at 6. Take care of hyperactive blind diabetic Labrador. Put contacts in, along with workout clothes that I did not get to put to use. Get Ainslie out of bed, juiced, fed. Bring laptop downstairs. Create a play-doh station, coloring station, and put in a dvd to facilitate me being on the phone. Participate in conference call, explaining that the noise in the background is Disney's Cinderella.
Wait for client to send documents. Download them, while wrestling Ainslie into clothes. Change my clothes, realizing the dream of working out today is just that.
Go to Robert Morris. Become secretly mortified that my new boss-to-be (who is thankfully a grandmother) is pushing Ainslie around in an office chair to occupy her. Run to packing place to fax back a contract. Get home, feed Ainslie lunch, put her down for a nap, sit down to work. Wish I could take a nap.
I'm not complaining; I feel very, very lucky that I am able to earn some decent money doing things I am actually educated to do and still get to spend so much time with Ainslie. I'm just setting the record straight. Physically, working outside of the home is less demanding.
Yesterday, for example, my schedule may have sounded simple: do normal Ainslie things, stop by Robert Morris to pick up books and syllabi, be on a conference call at 9:30, work while Ainslie naps. OK...
Get up at 6. Take care of hyperactive blind diabetic Labrador. Put contacts in, along with workout clothes that I did not get to put to use. Get Ainslie out of bed, juiced, fed. Bring laptop downstairs. Create a play-doh station, coloring station, and put in a dvd to facilitate me being on the phone. Participate in conference call, explaining that the noise in the background is Disney's Cinderella.
Wait for client to send documents. Download them, while wrestling Ainslie into clothes. Change my clothes, realizing the dream of working out today is just that.
Go to Robert Morris. Become secretly mortified that my new boss-to-be (who is thankfully a grandmother) is pushing Ainslie around in an office chair to occupy her. Run to packing place to fax back a contract. Get home, feed Ainslie lunch, put her down for a nap, sit down to work. Wish I could take a nap.
I'm not complaining; I feel very, very lucky that I am able to earn some decent money doing things I am actually educated to do and still get to spend so much time with Ainslie. I'm just setting the record straight. Physically, working outside of the home is less demanding.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
It's true
ballerinas actually (Ainslie's new favorite word) don't poop in their pants.
Ainslie hasn't had a daytime pee accident since May, but the pooping, well, she just didn't seem to mind going in her pants. If she really didn't get it, I wouldn't mind, but she does get it, since she would also poop on the potty.
So, I told her we could take ballet (or bal-Yay, as she says, which is actually more correct in French) IF she stopped pooping in her pants forever. So far, so good... heck, I'd promise her just about anything right now.
Ainslie hasn't had a daytime pee accident since May, but the pooping, well, she just didn't seem to mind going in her pants. If she really didn't get it, I wouldn't mind, but she does get it, since she would also poop on the potty.
So, I told her we could take ballet (or bal-Yay, as she says, which is actually more correct in French) IF she stopped pooping in her pants forever. So far, so good... heck, I'd promise her just about anything right now.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Overheard Toddler Talk
"Actually, Grandpa, I'm not hungry."
"I'm doing math." (as she holds her 5 fingers out in front of her)
"Then we'll go to Ice Deli. How 'bout that?"
"It not Bop, it's TTtttttttop! With an S!"
"...and ballerinas don't poop in their pants."
"oh, it nice of Grammie get me this big girl bed" (as she is supposed to be napping in it)
"Prince not a singer, he with Ellaella!" "And No White."
"I'm doing math." (as she holds her 5 fingers out in front of her)
"Then we'll go to Ice Deli. How 'bout that?"
"It not Bop, it's TTtttttttop! With an S!"
"...and ballerinas don't poop in their pants."
"oh, it nice of Grammie get me this big girl bed" (as she is supposed to be napping in it)
"Prince not a singer, he with Ellaella!" "And No White."
Friday, August 18, 2006
Any Day Now
I am reeeaaallllyyyyy trying to be optimistic here. We are beyond ready to move into our own house. I won't go into detail, but really, it is so beyond time. You know, for awhile this spring, everything seemed to just be falling into place for us, making us sure this move was the right decision. Well, after a horrid last couple of weeks, I decided the other day to really try to *listen* again and to be optimistic.
So...first I had an awesome second interview to teach at Robert Morris College. This was a pretty unexpected thing to fall into my lap and it looks like I will start there at the end of September. Ok...then I get an email saying that a large project I was supposed to get through Intulogy fell through. Well, crap, I was counting on that in our budget, but trying to stay optimistic, I noted that at least travel for that project would not interfere with teaching, and hopefully, moving.
Yesterday, I noticed that a house that has been for sale Forever had a SOLD sign on it. Good sign.
Barb called to say that the state has instituted some funky process for obtaining a loan in several test areas in Chicago. The areas border our block ever so closely but do not include our house. Good news if someone is deciding whether to live on 102nd place or 103rd place. Ours is now easier.
Got a call this morning for a super-quick, easy design project that will net me personally the same $ the lost project would have, with no travel and frankly, less intense work.
Can an offer be far behind?
I know God doesn't give us more than we can handle.
So...first I had an awesome second interview to teach at Robert Morris College. This was a pretty unexpected thing to fall into my lap and it looks like I will start there at the end of September. Ok...then I get an email saying that a large project I was supposed to get through Intulogy fell through. Well, crap, I was counting on that in our budget, but trying to stay optimistic, I noted that at least travel for that project would not interfere with teaching, and hopefully, moving.
Yesterday, I noticed that a house that has been for sale Forever had a SOLD sign on it. Good sign.
Barb called to say that the state has instituted some funky process for obtaining a loan in several test areas in Chicago. The areas border our block ever so closely but do not include our house. Good news if someone is deciding whether to live on 102nd place or 103rd place. Ours is now easier.
Got a call this morning for a super-quick, easy design project that will net me personally the same $ the lost project would have, with no travel and frankly, less intense work.
Can an offer be far behind?
I know God doesn't give us more than we can handle.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
"Excuse me, is this the E Room?"
"Eh?"
Ainslie nearly has the entire Letter Factory dvd memorized. Maybe because she watches it at least once a day; this morning she watched it twice in a row. I get so excited watching her perfect her knowledge of letters and sounds, and pick out words she has memorized, mostly from the BOB books. She has also taken to talking to herself a lot, and these little 'lessons' about letters or snippets from Sesame Street are what she babbles about.
I have come to realize that what makes me so excited about her pre-reading isn't the fact that she is ahead of the curve for her age (well, ok, so that is part of my excitement), it is really the fact that I can begin to share a passion with someone I love. I love to read, and it makes me so happy to think that Ainslie may very well be a reader too.
To me, there is a chasm between People Who Read and People Who Don't Read. People who read, in my opinion, have higher expectations from life, because we know all these fabulous stories about wonderful characters and exciting places that I can't imagine life without. I hate to think of my life so far without my travels and tribulations with the Ingalls family. I feel like I really know more about the holocaust than what history books teach because I experienced it with Anne Frank and Corrie Ten Boom and Elie Weisel. I've had wonderful adventures in Oz with the Baum books and also with Wicked. Of course, my friend Harry P. has given me hours and hours of adventure, and so has my pal Bridget Jones.
I love the language and double entendre of Shakespeare, the tragic story of Tess of the d'Urbervilles, the unfair treatment of Hester Prynne.
I could go on and on about how much richer a love of reading has made my life. I have pretended to be a princess with Sara Carew as I suffered through my own girlhood "crises". I've traveled across the Atlantic inside a peach. I've seen redemption from a guillotine, and cried tears of bitterness, tragedy, loss, and laughter. I once got myself caught in grade school giggling at something funny in an outside reading book that I was reading instead of paying attention in class. My teacher was actually happy; she said that that was one of the happiest sounds she knew.
So, yes, I hope Ainslie is an early reader. There simply is not enough time to go on all the adventures life and the library have to offer.
Ainslie nearly has the entire Letter Factory dvd memorized. Maybe because she watches it at least once a day; this morning she watched it twice in a row. I get so excited watching her perfect her knowledge of letters and sounds, and pick out words she has memorized, mostly from the BOB books. She has also taken to talking to herself a lot, and these little 'lessons' about letters or snippets from Sesame Street are what she babbles about.
I have come to realize that what makes me so excited about her pre-reading isn't the fact that she is ahead of the curve for her age (well, ok, so that is part of my excitement), it is really the fact that I can begin to share a passion with someone I love. I love to read, and it makes me so happy to think that Ainslie may very well be a reader too.
To me, there is a chasm between People Who Read and People Who Don't Read. People who read, in my opinion, have higher expectations from life, because we know all these fabulous stories about wonderful characters and exciting places that I can't imagine life without. I hate to think of my life so far without my travels and tribulations with the Ingalls family. I feel like I really know more about the holocaust than what history books teach because I experienced it with Anne Frank and Corrie Ten Boom and Elie Weisel. I've had wonderful adventures in Oz with the Baum books and also with Wicked. Of course, my friend Harry P. has given me hours and hours of adventure, and so has my pal Bridget Jones.
I love the language and double entendre of Shakespeare, the tragic story of Tess of the d'Urbervilles, the unfair treatment of Hester Prynne.
I could go on and on about how much richer a love of reading has made my life. I have pretended to be a princess with Sara Carew as I suffered through my own girlhood "crises". I've traveled across the Atlantic inside a peach. I've seen redemption from a guillotine, and cried tears of bitterness, tragedy, loss, and laughter. I once got myself caught in grade school giggling at something funny in an outside reading book that I was reading instead of paying attention in class. My teacher was actually happy; she said that that was one of the happiest sounds she knew.
So, yes, I hope Ainslie is an early reader. There simply is not enough time to go on all the adventures life and the library have to offer.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Little Things That Crack Me Up About Ainslie
This entry is mostly for Doe and Jena and other friends who don't see Ainslie much and wonder what she is up to. Here are just a few things that crack me up lately.
* She now sings with, nearly word for word, the songs she knows. What is hilarious, is that her current favorite song is, as she says, "Daddy's grampa is 95." The real name of this song is "Dance, Dance, Dance" by the Steve Miller Band, circa 197something. Great choice for a 2-yr old, but I'll tell ya, she does know most of the words, including, "pick on!"
* She has taken to starting many sentences with, "Remember..." and "When I was a little girl.." Of course, now that she is almost 20, I guess she can say that. A few weeks ago, we were talking about birthdays and I was informed, "I be 3 and get gum and make-up!"
* When we were in Lee's Summit, she bounded into my mom and dad's house, declaring, "Here come me, Anee Ilson!" If you ask her her full name, it is Anee Nane Ilson.
* Fruit snacks have 2 other aliases, Boot Nacks, and BobLarrys. BobLarrys comes from the fact that we used to get a brand of fruit snacks that had VeggieTales character shapes.
*Speaking of VeggieTales, Doe, you and Ainslie now share the same favorite Larry moment; the Larry Go Round. She gets it. :-)
* When she goes to look at houses with us, we make her walk with her hands up in the air, like she is being held up, so that she won't touch anything. It also makes us laugh.
* She has started telling me she has questions, but I don't think she actually knows what a question is. For example:
A: Mommy, I have a question.
C: Ok, honey, what is your question?
A: It's about No White (or EllaElla)
C: What about Snow White?
A: I have a question.
C: What is it, honey?
A: About No White
etc
I have never pushed princesses or any character on her, but she loves the Disney princesses, and she informed me today in Target that No White and EllaElla and Minmiss Belle are all friends.
*Speaking of characters, Nick Jr should hire Ainslie to do a cross-promotion with Kelloggs. Here is how she sings the Go, Diego, Go song:
"Eggo, Go, Eggo, Go!" Think of what they could do with that?
There are a million other things she does that crack me up, but these are what come to mind today. There are also things that make me want to run screaming back to a full time job just to drink a cup of coffee in peace, but those aren't the fun things to read about.
* She now sings with, nearly word for word, the songs she knows. What is hilarious, is that her current favorite song is, as she says, "Daddy's grampa is 95." The real name of this song is "Dance, Dance, Dance" by the Steve Miller Band, circa 197something. Great choice for a 2-yr old, but I'll tell ya, she does know most of the words, including, "pick on!"
* She has taken to starting many sentences with, "Remember..." and "When I was a little girl.." Of course, now that she is almost 20, I guess she can say that. A few weeks ago, we were talking about birthdays and I was informed, "I be 3 and get gum and make-up!"
* When we were in Lee's Summit, she bounded into my mom and dad's house, declaring, "Here come me, Anee Ilson!" If you ask her her full name, it is Anee Nane Ilson.
* Fruit snacks have 2 other aliases, Boot Nacks, and BobLarrys. BobLarrys comes from the fact that we used to get a brand of fruit snacks that had VeggieTales character shapes.
*Speaking of VeggieTales, Doe, you and Ainslie now share the same favorite Larry moment; the Larry Go Round. She gets it. :-)
* When she goes to look at houses with us, we make her walk with her hands up in the air, like she is being held up, so that she won't touch anything. It also makes us laugh.
* She has started telling me she has questions, but I don't think she actually knows what a question is. For example:
A: Mommy, I have a question.
C: Ok, honey, what is your question?
A: It's about No White (or EllaElla)
C: What about Snow White?
A: I have a question.
C: What is it, honey?
A: About No White
etc
I have never pushed princesses or any character on her, but she loves the Disney princesses, and she informed me today in Target that No White and EllaElla and Minmiss Belle are all friends.
*Speaking of characters, Nick Jr should hire Ainslie to do a cross-promotion with Kelloggs. Here is how she sings the Go, Diego, Go song:
"Eggo, Go, Eggo, Go!" Think of what they could do with that?
There are a million other things she does that crack me up, but these are what come to mind today. There are also things that make me want to run screaming back to a full time job just to drink a cup of coffee in peace, but those aren't the fun things to read about.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Somewhere between Plymouth Rock and Vegas
Lately, our Sunday routine has gone like this: try a church, try a breakfast, look at open houses. I really enjoy this routine because we need to find a church, we need to know who in town has the best breakfast, and I am nosy and like open houses. Oh, and we need one of those too.
Anyway, I want to focus on churches here. Of course, we have kind of a short list of possibilities. It would almost be easier if we had both been raised in the same denomination and that denomination was one that teaches that they are IT. Thou shalt not attend any other brand of church but me. Well, ok, it wouldn't actually be easier because I couldn't belong to a church like that, because, well, darn, the whole thing is cyclical, and that leads to the list of qualifications:
Must be completely ecumenical. Must be accepting of all lifestyles and leave the judging to God. Must offer communion every week. Must have lots of young children. Must like children.
Must like children? What kind of church wouldn't like kids? Well...
So, a couple weeks ago we tried an Uberchurch that people just rave about. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like contemporary praise worship, it's just, well--I'll get there in a bit.
So, there is special parking for "1st and 2nd time visitors only." Ok. Nice--except someone met us, literally, in the parking space to usher us inside and show us around. Some would say this is welcoming and helpful. Others might think it's a tad over the top. I guess it depends on whether you like to stand out as a first-time visitor in a crowded auditorium (I'm sorry, I mean Worship Center, not sanctuary) of 1000+ people, or if you prefer to be somewhat anonymous, but our guide was very nice and friendly. He showed us where to sign Ainslie into the children's center and obtain a security number for her. The only shadow passed over our guide's face when we said Ainslie would sit with us, this first time, because that is what she is used to. He quickly showed us the cry room, just in case.
Once we sat down with our glossy brochure (not a mere bulletin) we understood. On the back it states that, "Main worship is not designed for children." Hmmmm.
Ok. Soon, the lights were dimmed and the show began. So here's where I get into the whole Praise thing. I like it. Within reason. Our current church in Chicago offers a choice of traditional or praise services and we attend both. I don't think, however, that a show, in which people are constantly just *performing* is the spiritual experience we are looking for. It also really bothers me when church is held in a Worship Center that looks remarkably like a theater (and that was my major so I'm pretty keen on what one looks like) and has NO CROSS visible. That really bugged us. I mean, what is the POINT?
Then, the kids issue. Worship is not designed for children? On a purely practical nature, how do little ones learn what is expected of them if you don't take them places? Ainslie is certainly not perfectly quiet in church, but she's pretty good for a 2-yr old (most of the time) because we've always taken her. On a more important note, though, HELLO? No kids allowed? Craig thinks it is because the actors and singers don't want their show interrupted. One more thing on the kids. I'm too Protestant to be a proponent of infant baptism, but that is another post. I do, however, like the idea of Baby Dedications. So, this couple comes down with their infant (don't know how they got the kid through security) and the pastor basically says, "Welcome to parenthood. Now sit back down." Of course, he was probably tired after his 40 minute one-man show--sermon. No "Let us welcome this child into our fellowship." No, "Let us guide this child..." etc.
Anyway. Not a great fit for the Wilson family.
This leads me to something else I've been thinking about for a few years. Is the whole Christian Experience different for someone who finds God as an adult than for someone who is brought up in faith? It seems like people I hear speak who find God later in life are more full of wonder, or something, and I think that is great. I guess when you grow up knowing Bible stories and understanding who Jesus is, it maybe isn't as exciting as discovering Him later? Not that my faith isn't renewed, tested, and twisted from time to time, but I just have been thinking about this. The part of this that bugs me though, is the claim of being a Born Again Christian. By baptism, we are all born again, and I don't think there is any special distinction for being more born again than someone else. That just bugs me.
Ok, so I will close with a genuinely happy thought, and I'm not being sarcastic. I have always thought it a particulary neat trick of God's that He gave us minds, and therefore we *can't* really all worship Him in the same exact manner. I do think it's great that we are able to find Him and worship Him in a way that is meaningful for each of us.
Meanwhile, for Craig, Ainslie and I, back to the short list.
Anyway, I want to focus on churches here. Of course, we have kind of a short list of possibilities. It would almost be easier if we had both been raised in the same denomination and that denomination was one that teaches that they are IT. Thou shalt not attend any other brand of church but me. Well, ok, it wouldn't actually be easier because I couldn't belong to a church like that, because, well, darn, the whole thing is cyclical, and that leads to the list of qualifications:
Must be completely ecumenical. Must be accepting of all lifestyles and leave the judging to God. Must offer communion every week. Must have lots of young children. Must like children.
Must like children? What kind of church wouldn't like kids? Well...
So, a couple weeks ago we tried an Uberchurch that people just rave about. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like contemporary praise worship, it's just, well--I'll get there in a bit.
So, there is special parking for "1st and 2nd time visitors only." Ok. Nice--except someone met us, literally, in the parking space to usher us inside and show us around. Some would say this is welcoming and helpful. Others might think it's a tad over the top. I guess it depends on whether you like to stand out as a first-time visitor in a crowded auditorium (I'm sorry, I mean Worship Center, not sanctuary) of 1000+ people, or if you prefer to be somewhat anonymous, but our guide was very nice and friendly. He showed us where to sign Ainslie into the children's center and obtain a security number for her. The only shadow passed over our guide's face when we said Ainslie would sit with us, this first time, because that is what she is used to. He quickly showed us the cry room, just in case.
Once we sat down with our glossy brochure (not a mere bulletin) we understood. On the back it states that, "Main worship is not designed for children." Hmmmm.
Ok. Soon, the lights were dimmed and the show began. So here's where I get into the whole Praise thing. I like it. Within reason. Our current church in Chicago offers a choice of traditional or praise services and we attend both. I don't think, however, that a show, in which people are constantly just *performing* is the spiritual experience we are looking for. It also really bothers me when church is held in a Worship Center that looks remarkably like a theater (and that was my major so I'm pretty keen on what one looks like) and has NO CROSS visible. That really bugged us. I mean, what is the POINT?
Then, the kids issue. Worship is not designed for children? On a purely practical nature, how do little ones learn what is expected of them if you don't take them places? Ainslie is certainly not perfectly quiet in church, but she's pretty good for a 2-yr old (most of the time) because we've always taken her. On a more important note, though, HELLO? No kids allowed? Craig thinks it is because the actors and singers don't want their show interrupted. One more thing on the kids. I'm too Protestant to be a proponent of infant baptism, but that is another post. I do, however, like the idea of Baby Dedications. So, this couple comes down with their infant (don't know how they got the kid through security) and the pastor basically says, "Welcome to parenthood. Now sit back down." Of course, he was probably tired after his 40 minute one-man show--sermon. No "Let us welcome this child into our fellowship." No, "Let us guide this child..." etc.
Anyway. Not a great fit for the Wilson family.
This leads me to something else I've been thinking about for a few years. Is the whole Christian Experience different for someone who finds God as an adult than for someone who is brought up in faith? It seems like people I hear speak who find God later in life are more full of wonder, or something, and I think that is great. I guess when you grow up knowing Bible stories and understanding who Jesus is, it maybe isn't as exciting as discovering Him later? Not that my faith isn't renewed, tested, and twisted from time to time, but I just have been thinking about this. The part of this that bugs me though, is the claim of being a Born Again Christian. By baptism, we are all born again, and I don't think there is any special distinction for being more born again than someone else. That just bugs me.
Ok, so I will close with a genuinely happy thought, and I'm not being sarcastic. I have always thought it a particulary neat trick of God's that He gave us minds, and therefore we *can't* really all worship Him in the same exact manner. I do think it's great that we are able to find Him and worship Him in a way that is meaningful for each of us.
Meanwhile, for Craig, Ainslie and I, back to the short list.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
You know it's going to be a long day when...
"Mommy! My toes are pink!"
These are the first words I heard from Ainslie yesterday morning. I thought she said her nose was pink, so I rushed across the hall, thinking maybe she was having a nosebleed. Nope. She had somehow reached a little makeup bag that I keep in that room (I like the light and she can play while I get ready) and had painted her fingernails, toenails, arms, legs and nightgown OPI Bubble Bath.
She also drained a liquid eyeshadow, painted the case to my blush and unscrewed the lid to my mascara. Mercifully, she didn't actually open the mascara. I didn't know whether to punish her or laugh, she looked so proud of herself, yet she had that gleam. Of course she knew better. As for how she reached the darned thing, I still can't figure it out. Apparently she's been watching Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. The worst part is, for a 2-yr old, she did a pretty decent job on her nails.
The killer was, when we went downstairs, she told her grandpa, very seriously, "Grandpa, I'm a mess."
These are the first words I heard from Ainslie yesterday morning. I thought she said her nose was pink, so I rushed across the hall, thinking maybe she was having a nosebleed. Nope. She had somehow reached a little makeup bag that I keep in that room (I like the light and she can play while I get ready) and had painted her fingernails, toenails, arms, legs and nightgown OPI Bubble Bath.
She also drained a liquid eyeshadow, painted the case to my blush and unscrewed the lid to my mascara. Mercifully, she didn't actually open the mascara. I didn't know whether to punish her or laugh, she looked so proud of herself, yet she had that gleam. Of course she knew better. As for how she reached the darned thing, I still can't figure it out. Apparently she's been watching Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. The worst part is, for a 2-yr old, she did a pretty decent job on her nails.
The killer was, when we went downstairs, she told her grandpa, very seriously, "Grandpa, I'm a mess."
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Where are the Olympics in 2020?
If you avoid reading blogs where people brag about their kids without restraint or respect for basic decency, you'll want to skip this one.
Ainslie is so STRONG. Seriously. She is the best in her gymnastics class (and the youngest, by half a year from the next youngest kid), and today, we made up Tuesday's class since we were all recouping from the ER nightmare on Tuesday and guess what? She's the best in this class too.
In Chicago, her class was mostly large motor play with some gymnastics thrown in; this one is much more focused on actual gymnastics skills. At first I was put off and was all set to try another place here in town that seemed to do more of the singing and games and stuf, but she loves this class.
Today on floor, they worked on forward and backward rolls and straddle rolls. Ainslie does forward rolls by herself all over the house, she does the backward ones with just a little push, and although they do the straddles on a wedge in class, she just needs a little push. They also worked on handstands (aka Donkey Kicks) and again, Ainslie kicks up high and understands supporting herself with her arms. She is the only one who will start from a standing position, arms over her head.
On beam, she is the only one who can walk forward and sideways with no help, and today they did forward rolls on the beam. Of course they were heavily spotted (ok, carried, lol), but Ainslie was the only one who was Beaming after her turns. She is also the only one the teacher lets 'dismount' (ok, jump off the end of a practice beam) all by herself.
On bars, once she is jumped up and hanging from the bar, she can swing her own feet up, either in a pike or a straddle, and she will swing herself. The teacher counts while the kids hang and Ainslie hangs way longer than the others (like 4-5 seconds longer) AND she counts with the teacher, lol.
My favorite thing, though, is that she is getting better at participating in the class. This is the one area where she has certainly acted like the youngest, but this morning, she only had one outburst of wanting to do something *else*, she mostly listened and did what she was supposed to do.
I'm just so proud. I've been blessed with a child who is strong and smart (and gorgeous!) and good at everything she's tried so far. I hope we can encourage her the right way to be the best at the things she really likes.
If you are about to gag on all this bragging, let me temper this whole nauseating post by saying that we went to the Y afterward and my Super Pottytrained Child had a poop blowout in her new unitard, and had to wear some yucky left-in-the-nursery-at-the-Y donated dress and a Buzz Lightyear Pullup home. Nobody's perfect.
Ainslie is so STRONG. Seriously. She is the best in her gymnastics class (and the youngest, by half a year from the next youngest kid), and today, we made up Tuesday's class since we were all recouping from the ER nightmare on Tuesday and guess what? She's the best in this class too.
In Chicago, her class was mostly large motor play with some gymnastics thrown in; this one is much more focused on actual gymnastics skills. At first I was put off and was all set to try another place here in town that seemed to do more of the singing and games and stuf, but she loves this class.
Today on floor, they worked on forward and backward rolls and straddle rolls. Ainslie does forward rolls by herself all over the house, she does the backward ones with just a little push, and although they do the straddles on a wedge in class, she just needs a little push. They also worked on handstands (aka Donkey Kicks) and again, Ainslie kicks up high and understands supporting herself with her arms. She is the only one who will start from a standing position, arms over her head.
On beam, she is the only one who can walk forward and sideways with no help, and today they did forward rolls on the beam. Of course they were heavily spotted (ok, carried, lol), but Ainslie was the only one who was Beaming after her turns. She is also the only one the teacher lets 'dismount' (ok, jump off the end of a practice beam) all by herself.
On bars, once she is jumped up and hanging from the bar, she can swing her own feet up, either in a pike or a straddle, and she will swing herself. The teacher counts while the kids hang and Ainslie hangs way longer than the others (like 4-5 seconds longer) AND she counts with the teacher, lol.
My favorite thing, though, is that she is getting better at participating in the class. This is the one area where she has certainly acted like the youngest, but this morning, she only had one outburst of wanting to do something *else*, she mostly listened and did what she was supposed to do.
I'm just so proud. I've been blessed with a child who is strong and smart (and gorgeous!) and good at everything she's tried so far. I hope we can encourage her the right way to be the best at the things she really likes.
If you are about to gag on all this bragging, let me temper this whole nauseating post by saying that we went to the Y afterward and my Super Pottytrained Child had a poop blowout in her new unitard, and had to wear some yucky left-in-the-nursery-at-the-Y donated dress and a Buzz Lightyear Pullup home. Nobody's perfect.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
When the Dog Bites
Well, I can still say we haven't had an ear infection yet, but I can't say we've never been to the emergency room. Devid bit Ainslie last night. He was unprovoked, just irritable.
She is fine, and there should be no scarring. He got her right under the eyebrow, a nice deep puncture on the upper cheek and tore a little flap on the top of her ear. Devid will no longer be living here.
Ugh. I held her in the car (flame if you want, I'd do it again), and told her that the doctor was going to fix her boo boos. She told me "My ace urts" a few times and then started singing, "I'm Not Perfect." Made me cry. Oh, Lord, Thank You for this not being worse, thank you for her eye not being torn. I carried my bloody child (I didn't realize I had dried blood down my face and neck too) into the ER wearing only her underpants (I did have clothes for her in the diaper bag, thank goodness) and other people in line to check in let us go ahead--I guess we looked pretty pathetic.
Once they got her vitals, we were put in a little ER room and the wait began. By now, the wounds were pretty dried, and Ainslie was enjoying the bed "ride", going up and down. As doctors and nurses came in to check her, she spoke up and was such a little trooper. One funny moment was when a nurse asked if she could see her ear, and Ainslie pointed to her ear, and said, "it's right Here!"
Finally, she was wheeled into a suture room and this is where it got hard for everyone. My poor girl had to be IV'd and hooked up to all sorts of monitors and then they gave her morphine and some other stuff to knock her out. Too bad these medical professionals didn't know who they were dealing with. Ainslie doesn't go to sleep until she's good and ready to go to sleep, and despite all the drugs (and the local she was given) she didn't go to sleep until after we got home.
One funny thing we learned, and that is that Ainslie is a loving drunk. We had to wait an hour after the stiches to be released so her vitals could be monitored and my little 2 year old was high as a kite. As she lounged in my arms, she told me she loved me, then she told Grandma she loved her (Daddy was out getting the Rx for the antibiotic filled), then a man wandered through on his way to another room and Ainslie says, "I love you, Man!" I told her she was loopy and she says, "I love loopy." Frankly, I could use some loopy right about now.
Today she is fine. Everyone else's nerves are pretty shot, but she is fine. Thank God. I realized that I don't love dogs all that much. I've decided that once Lily is gone (and Lily wouldn't know how to bite someone) there will be no more dogs in our nuclear family until all kids are at least 10 or 12 years old. I'm not going to listen to another small child scream, "Mommy! Mommy!" so pitifully while they are having holes in their face stitched up.
She is fine, and there should be no scarring. He got her right under the eyebrow, a nice deep puncture on the upper cheek and tore a little flap on the top of her ear. Devid will no longer be living here.
Ugh. I held her in the car (flame if you want, I'd do it again), and told her that the doctor was going to fix her boo boos. She told me "My ace urts" a few times and then started singing, "I'm Not Perfect." Made me cry. Oh, Lord, Thank You for this not being worse, thank you for her eye not being torn. I carried my bloody child (I didn't realize I had dried blood down my face and neck too) into the ER wearing only her underpants (I did have clothes for her in the diaper bag, thank goodness) and other people in line to check in let us go ahead--I guess we looked pretty pathetic.
Once they got her vitals, we were put in a little ER room and the wait began. By now, the wounds were pretty dried, and Ainslie was enjoying the bed "ride", going up and down. As doctors and nurses came in to check her, she spoke up and was such a little trooper. One funny moment was when a nurse asked if she could see her ear, and Ainslie pointed to her ear, and said, "it's right Here!"
Finally, she was wheeled into a suture room and this is where it got hard for everyone. My poor girl had to be IV'd and hooked up to all sorts of monitors and then they gave her morphine and some other stuff to knock her out. Too bad these medical professionals didn't know who they were dealing with. Ainslie doesn't go to sleep until she's good and ready to go to sleep, and despite all the drugs (and the local she was given) she didn't go to sleep until after we got home.
One funny thing we learned, and that is that Ainslie is a loving drunk. We had to wait an hour after the stiches to be released so her vitals could be monitored and my little 2 year old was high as a kite. As she lounged in my arms, she told me she loved me, then she told Grandma she loved her (Daddy was out getting the Rx for the antibiotic filled), then a man wandered through on his way to another room and Ainslie says, "I love you, Man!" I told her she was loopy and she says, "I love loopy." Frankly, I could use some loopy right about now.
Today she is fine. Everyone else's nerves are pretty shot, but she is fine. Thank God. I realized that I don't love dogs all that much. I've decided that once Lily is gone (and Lily wouldn't know how to bite someone) there will be no more dogs in our nuclear family until all kids are at least 10 or 12 years old. I'm not going to listen to another small child scream, "Mommy! Mommy!" so pitifully while they are having holes in their face stitched up.
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