Uppercase Woman

29 Months

My darling Tori Anne,

You are twenty nine months old! You are almost two-and-a-half but now I am telling people you ARE two-and-a-half because, well, it's easier. I imagine I should get a few months out of this age until you become--gulp--almost three. I know I say this every month, but DAMN you are growing up so fast. I've been seeing a lot of tiny babies lately and I find myself thinking about when you were a teeny thing, and I just can't believe that you are, well, a KID. No baby left in you at all.

It is very hard to get a picture of you smiling these days, since every time I point a camera in your direction you close your eyes tight and shriek, "CHEESE!" So now I have lots of pictures of you doing that. It's adorable, though, one of your many developing quirks. You have become a rather charming child, able to make me laugh by being adorable and funny. One of your favorite things to do is say things like, "Is it dark?" in the middle of the day and then say, in this funny voice that I think is imitating me, "It's not dark!" Cracks me up every time. You also frequently bring me imaginary candy and ice cream which is hilarious (this is something you learned from other kids at the playground pretending to have an ice cream stand) and I have to pretend to eat it or you are unhappy. It's delightful.

You are still incredibly physical, and you love to play catch and kick a ball. Sadly, the beach ball you are pictured with above (photo taken by your godsister, by the way) has met its demise, and now we have to scour the world to find you a beach ball in November because you are SO SAD about it being gone. I'm thinking maybe a party store might have some. GOD WILLING.

We just celebrated Halloween, and man, it is your favorite holiday now. You got it, for the first time, and now you wake up each morning demanding to go trick-or-treating. You are DEVASTATED that this is a once-a-year activity. I mean, what kid wouldn't be? You dress up and go to people's houses and they GIVE YOU CANDY. It's like Nirvana for a kid. You dressed as a ladybug princess, and for a while there I thought we weren't going to get you into your costume because every time you saw it the week before Halloween you ran away from it screaming. I'm not sure what changed your mind the day of. Probably that promise of candy.

You laugh these days, a lot. Except sometimes at night. About half the time, around 11pm--just as your daddy and I are settling in for the Daily Show--you start talking in your sleep. You ALWAYS say the same thing: "I don't like it!" and "I don't want it!" It's never bad enough that you actually wake up fully, but still, I worry what it is. I suspect, however, that it happens when you get a binky stuck under your head and you think I am trying to put your hair in ponytails which I LOVE but you, frankly, kind of hate. I can only put them in by bribing you with candy, which I do quite often. I am SUCH A GOOD MOM.

Sadly, they changed the damn time on us and now it's gotten hard to take you to the playground, which is tough on all of us. You are still napping every day for about 2-3 hours (we are SO LUCKY), but that means you are waking up right before it gets dark. I don't know what to do. We will find you something to do to run off all that energy in the afternoons, though--I promise.

One of the things we've started doing together is cooking. It's amazing how much more you will eat if you are involved in cooking the food. It's great fun, and somehow I've managed to teach you how to be safe at the stove, even though your daddy has to go into the other room when we do it because he is so convinced you are going to get hurt. But we have a great time, as you can see in this (very short) video.

Two pretty momentous things happened in this last week. First up--and in your sports-hating mommy's mind, not actually that important--the Phillies won the world series for the first time in forever. We took you downtown to enjoy the celebration with about two million other people, and you were suitably impressed. It was great fun.

But of earth-shattering importance is the fact that America elected a brilliant young man named Barack Obama as President of the United States. The reason this is so amazing--a fact I hope you will NOT find amazing when you eventually get around to reading this--is that Barack Obama is black, and he is the first African-American man to be President. But it's not just the fact that he's black that is so amazing; he has brought with him a wave of hope and joy, and a sense that he will blow away the fear and anger and secrecy that has been part and parcel of the last eight years in the White House. I cannot tell you how awful the last eight years have been to your super liberal parents, watching rights dwindle as President Bush bet our economic future on a nasty, bungled war. I don't imagine, when you read this, that Barack Obama was able to live up to all that hope and promise--after all, he's inheriting a mess; a nation that is universally hated across the world, a terrible debt, and a terrifying economic crisis and a war on two fronts--so there is no doubt that he will be forced to let us all down in some way or other. Compromise will probably be his middle name soon (as opposed to the hated Hussein, his actual middle name; God willing, you have no idea why people thought that was a bad name), but for now--well, for now, my darling girl, the world feels bright with hope and promise again, kind of like how I feel when you smile at me and mean it.

We've had yet another lovely month together, my dear. Your negative behavior (the throwing, kicking, and hitting) has managed to go into remission for now, and that means we have a lot more fun together. I am still giddy with joy sometimes when I think of you, and when I look into your eyes sometimes I am actually struck dumb with your beauty. I tell you all the time that you are beautiful, but you correct me and say, "I'm not beautiful, I Tori."

You sure are, my lovely girl. You sure are.

Love,

Mommy

Phriday Phillies Phanatic Parade

You may have been wondering, why hasn't Cecily posted yet today? Well, it's because Cecily is CRAZY. So is her husband. Because Charlie, Tori and I all decided to go into Center City Philadelphia to attend the Phillies Victory Parade. We did not realize that so did two million other people.

At first we tried to be sensible and take the train into town, but when we arrived at the train station we saw that it was crowded as fuck and then we were informed that most of the people there had been waiting for over three hours and NONE of the trains were stopping because they were all too full.

So, after a brief consultation, we threw caution to the wind and drove into the city, which turned out to be a total breeze. The streets were actually nearly empty, like an early Sunday morning. Go figure.

We had a great time. I can't claim that we actually saw much of the parade, but it was fun. And look! Pictures!

In the first shot, you'll see Tori indulging in a refreshing box of milk. Please note ugly street crud and proof that others were not being so wholesome in their beverage choices.

Here Tori is showing her Phillies pride.

Here you'll see Tori enjoying a shoulder ride.

And because it wouldn't be complete without video...

Miracle

I'm probably jinxing myself by even whispering this, much less broadcasting it to the internets, but something wonderous has happened. Remember that demon that inhabited Tori for a while? Well, it's gone, and now I suddenly have this silly, sweet, OBEDIENT child that is cuddly and adorable.

Seriously, she's been amazing. So much so that I wish BlogHer DC was actually happening during her next evil phase. But it's not, so this afternoon Sarah and I are loading up the car and driving on down to Bethesda to stay overnight, far away from this adorable child.

Luckily, about a dozen of you are meeting us for dinner tonight, and that cheers me immensely. Please feel free to just show up even if you feel nervous--we'll make room. Heh. Austin Grill, 6:30pm!

28 Months

My darling Tori Anne,

You are 28 months old. I keep saying you are two-and-a-quarter because, well, that's what you are. I often have to tell people how old you are because in groups you have this awesome tendency to kind of outshine the older kids; between your speech capability and your incredible physical agility you appear much older than you are. However, you still can't do things like play with other kids well or do things like, oh, share--and it's then that the other parents ask me how old you are (with that tone in their voice that I really should be working harder with you). Heh. They are always surprised that you are so young.

This has been a great month! A lot of the frustrating things that you were doing last month that were driving your mommy and daddy crazy have seemingly gone away, or at least are on hiatus. You haven't been hitting us, or fighting us when we need to do something, and best of all you've been listening. You haven't been put in time-out in two weeks, which is remarkable, because for a while we were doing it a couple times a day. The advice I got from the folks that read this blog really made a big difference--you've become a much more fun kid to be around. When Moxie had lunch with us last week, she decided I've been lying in my blog posts where I complained about your behavior; she thought you were a really well-behaved kid. And the truth is, you really are. For now, anyway.

The only new thing that's happened this month is that over the last week or two you've suddenly developed a very strong separation anxiety. It was so weird because literally one day you were fine going off to day care and to your other playgroups, and then the next day you were simply inconsolable even at the mention of them. We've tried to work with you, talking to you about it and discussing what's happening, and that seems to have helped a little. But on Sunday you were so upset that you were kicked out of Sunday School because you couldn't stop crying. It was so sad, I felt awful for you. But then Monday you went to day care happily. Sigh.

 

You've overall become a bit more fearful this last month. You didn't want to ride the rides at a little fair we went to (unless your Godsister rode them with you), you greet even your favorite folks with a bit of shyness these days, and you still don't like large mascot-type things. You even cried when we tried to photograph you with some pumpkins at a local orchard (that is, until your Godsister started jumping around and making faces at you. Then you smiled).

Frankly, I am grateful that you've developed a bit of caution. Your fearlessness kept us on constant alert; now when I'm in choir practice before church the fact that you contentedly hold my leg the whole time is a relief. You've always been such an independent kid, it's nice to finally be needed as your mom. Although, I must confess, that day you walked over to me, squatted down with your butt out, pointed at said butt (you'd just bumped your butt in a fall) and said, "Kiss it!" That day I wasn't so excited about being needed. Luckily, you were content with a kiss-to-hand-to-butt move. Thank God.

You love games on the laptop. Seriously, it's your favorite thing. Just for the record, we totally regret ever showing you the games on the computer. As much as we love you, and as much as we enjoy making you happy--well, we don't really like watching your hammer away at our laptops. Our laptops are our livelihood--without them, you'd have no mac and cheese. And how much would that suck?

I have to say that I've really enjoyed this month. You are developing a great sense of humor (when you crack yourself up and then say, "Tori is so silly!" I nearly explode at the cuteness), and you've been much more cuddly and adorable. You love when I tell you stories, and we have so much fun now at the end of the day as we pretend to be butterflies and penguins. I love making you laugh. You are my favorite person and I can't believe how awesome it is to be your mom.

I'll close out this month with an adorable short video of you "striking a pose" while playing with the laptop and taking photos of yourself. It's crazy how funny you can be. I love you, bunnyboo (did you know I call you Bunny?). You are my beautiful baby girl.

Love,

Mommy

Bedtime Stories (let's NOT talk about politics today)

Recently we've changed up Tori's bedtime routine. She used to watch Dora and Diego (her favorites) at the end of the day to wind down before bed, but lately she's preferred to kick a ball around or play hide and seek (which is HILARIOUS--when it's her turn, she ALWAYS forgets to hide; she becomes too focused on the counting).

So we tried going up to "the big bed" as she calls our bed and reading books to her, but she finds being read to annoying (she prefers to flip through books herself and tell us what is on each page). So I've started telling her stories that I make up on the spot; silly stories with magic and animals, the fodder of every parent.

Each story, of course, starts with "Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Tori..." Tori then gets big round eyes and pats her chest. Her favorite of my stories is about a magic book; in that story, every time the Tori in the story turns the page of the magic book, the animals pictured on the page come to life. For instance, one page is covered in butterflies and they come out of the book and fly around until they land on Tori and give her kisses. Tori loves this, because she flutters her arms like a butterfly, and then I get to kiss her all over like the butterflies. The next page might have bears that come out and give her hugs; polar bears, panda bears, black bears, grizzlies (warning--don't make the grizzly too scary. Oops). I of course give her great big hugs with every bear, after she gets to stomp around on the bed with her hands up like claws and growling like a bear.  I vary it, and allow Tori to suggest different animals (she also likes when it's cats and I purr).

It's amazing to watch Tori respond to my stories in a way she doesn't respond to anything else. Her eyes light up, she giggles with delight, and she gasps in surprise. Her face gets more animated than any other time I've seen as I spin out the story. It's made bed time my favorite time of day, and not because she FINALLY GOES TO BED, but because we get to cuddle and laugh and play. It's a part of toddler-hood that brings back that first flush of intense love that I had for Tori the first moment I held her; when I watch her giggle and smile because of a simple story, I feel like all is right with the world.

I find when I figure out some parenting trick like this, I want to expand it out into the larger universe. Does this mean Tori is destined to act? Should I take her to see plays for kids? Then comes worry--uh oh. Why doesn't she like being read to? What am I doing wrong? Do I let her watch too much TV?

It's so hard to just sink into the moment, isn't it? Instead of feeling like my daughter and I are having an amazing, precious moment that makes the world seem bright, shinier, happier--I find myself plotting and worrying, extrapolating--what does it all MEAN?

I've got to knock it the fuck off. It's amazing, the human capacity for skipping right over the moment and either leaping into the future or dwelling on the past. I fight to stay here, now, in this moment with all its loveliness and poignant grief. This is where I'm supposed to be.

I promise, tonight I will put Tori to bed with a story full of magic and cuddles, and I will cherish it. So, what moment do you want to cherish today?

27 Months

My darling Tori Anne,

My goodness. We've survived another month. I know that might sound a bit, oh, harsh. But trust me; for all of us, this has been a hell of a month.

First off, I have to offer you an apology. There's been an awful lot of yelling going on this last month. We've been yelling at you because you continue to work hard at being a kid, pushing boundaries and testing limits a million times a day. We've been yelling at each other because we haven't quite gotten this whole being-married-while-parenting-thing down yet, and sometimes we forgot ourselves and yelled in front of you. We've even been yelling at the dog because the more yelling there is, the more underfoot he gets. Lastly, we've been yelling at the television because it's an election year, and there is a lot to yell at. So I'm sorry, baby girl, that you've had to endure so many raised voices this last month. The good thing is, your Daddy and I have actually worked a bunch of stuff out, and we've gotten much better at being balanced and making sure we're both doing OK. I can't do anything about the politics, though; not until you're nearly 29 months old anyway. Then it should be over.

You are getting smarter and smarter these days, and we've found you just a bit harder to entertain as a result. Recently we foolishly introduced you to a couple of things on our laptops, and now you want to either play games (the games at Sesame Street are your favorite, although this one is super cool and we like it too; we found that game here). But more than games, you love--oh, how you love--the Photo Booth feature where you can just click on the bar to take photos of yourself. You will sit for nearly a half hour clicking over and over while making faces at yourself. It's hilarious. I like to join you just to watch the faces you make. The only problem, of course, is that you would prefer that we stop working and allow you full time laptop access. Oops.

These days you are constantly in motion. You love jumping in all forms--off curbs, on the ground, on the couch, and the last weekend the pool was open you learned to jump into the water on your own. Which totally freaks out the adults around you (you are always wearing water wings, so you pop back up to the surface no problem--but then, your fearlessness always alarms grown ups). We miss the pool--a lot--and are happy that this week the pool at the YMCA is opening again so that we can get you back to the water. In fact, I think we'll go today.

Because you are constantly in motion it's gotten much harder to get an in-focus picture of you lately. But that's actually not such a bad thing, since an awful lot of the time these days you are, shall we say, not at your most photograph-able. You are either screaming at the top of your lungs, throwing something, fake crying, actually crying, slapping me or some object that has betrayed you, kicking your Mommy and Daddy in the face while they change your diaper, throwing your food while saying "I don't like it!" or glaring at us both with a mean face. You've found your temper this month, AND HOW. We've been working on some new discipline tricks, and things are getting better but MAN it's been a tough month--both for us as parents coping with the angry toddler, and for you as a smart kid who doesn't quite know how to communicate and doesn't understand why you can't get everything you want.

You've also gone from practicing being scared to actually being scared of some things (I totally understand about that scary ass six foot Elmo). Yesterday at church you stuck fast to my side all through choir practice (although you were happy going to Sunday School) and at the picnic after (the picnic where you, once again, ate nothing. You are the only two-year-old that hates hotdogs). But you still love to be "fake" scared too, announcing that you are scared of dinosaurs and coming over for a cuddle. I love the cuddling, so I play along.

My darling girl, another month has gone by and we all managed to make it through. While there have been some struggles this month (I confess that sometimes when you go to bed it feels a bit like we just won the war), you are still enchanting much of the time. Your giggles are like a sunshine. I love you so much, baby girl. You are my heart.

Love,

Mommy

26 Months

My darling Tori Anne,

You are 26 months old today. You have danced your way into the terrible twos in a big, big way and continue to show me on a daily basis what a smart, funny, creative bundle of energy you are.

My favorite thing you've started doing this month is this crazy way you have of asking questions and then when we try to clarify your question you make it sound like the subject of your question was our idea all along. For instance, you'll come up to me and say, " Go ows-side?" and I'll say, "You want to go outside?" and you say, "OK!" Like, what a great idea, mom! Let's go outside! And now I've been tricked because I don't want to take you outside, I want to give you dinner, and when I say that it's time for dinner you look at me like I just broke a promise. I gotta warn you, kiddo--you were born to the absolute QUEEN of manipulation and your little tricks just aren't going to work on me. Heh. Like your new thing of fake crying when you don't get your way. It's so obviously bullshit, it's impossible to even get mad at you.

You've mastered the mean angry face too. I haven't gotten a picture of it yet, but every time you make it I have to work very hard to not laugh out loud--that would hurt your feelings, I imagine. But DAMN you are cute when you make that face.

You continue need at least two activities a day to really enjoy your day, so we still hit either a playgroup or your babysitter before nap time, and a walk or the pool or other event after that (although this week you've been fighting a summer cold so we've just hung out at home). So this month we've gone to all the local gardens, and we've taken you to concerts, and we've done lots, and lot, and lots of swimming.

You spend a lot of time in the car, and we are blessed among parents because you tolerate it beautifully. You happily read books, play with your toys, and watch your DVDs (currently, your favorite is The Looney Tunes, and it makes my heart unusually happy listening to that music coming from the back seat. As opposed to your Kipper DVD which makes me INSANE). When we have a long drive, you just hang out and enjoy the ride.

You've become a bit more affectionate these days, often patting my arm and hugging us without prompting and asking for cuddles a lot more. Nothing could make us happier. We love cuddling you more than anything. For some reason, though, I'm not allowed to play with your hair and that makes me so sad. Someday. Today before your nap you were putting your hand in your mouth, covering it in drool, and then rubbing my arm with the drool and saying, "Better?" It's totally worth having an arm covered in drool slime to watch you practice comforting.

The other big development that's come this month is how much you love to play pretend now. You feed your baby doll, you make your stuffed animals dance and take naps. You tell us "Shhh!" because your doll is sleeping. You pick up your cell phone (my old one) and say, "I calling Grandma!" and proceed to have lengthy conversations with her (although when you really talk on the phone to someone you still don't quite get it and act totally shocked each time you hear a voice on the receiver). You've become much more play independent, which is very helpful to your work-at-home parents. About two weeks ago I found one of those no-drip (supposedly) bottles of bubbles that features your boyfriend Diego and not only does this entertain you endlessly, but it also occupies the dog too. This means that you and the dog are now best friends and you often say, "Bubba! Bubbles!" and you two proceed to have a blast.

You language skills are rather astounding. At your (late) two-year-check up this month, the pediatrician asked if you were using two-word sentences and you proceeded to give her a two-minute lecture about the book you'd been reading while we waited (she noted this, wryly, stating that she guessed language development wasn't an issue). You've grasped big concepts like "home" and "later" this month too, and that's been pretty cool to watch. I can't get over how smart you are, although I'm sure every parent says this, but you are totally BRILLIANT. So there.

We're all getting better at being a family, and you are back to being a pretty easy child most of the time--as long as we take into account your boundless energy. You continue to be brave, and we're trying to nurture that; while I want all the ants in our kitchen to die, and to die NOW, you love to watch them and play with them and we let you because I want you to be a girl that is NOT afraid of bugs.

Tori, you continue to amaze and delight us. Astonish and overwhelm. We love you so much, and are so happy that you are here in our lives, even though it still feels, just a bit, that each time we put you to bed for the night that we've just won the war. I love you Tori, and think the world is just so much better with you in it.

Love, Mommy

It Seems Only Fair

I'm sorry I didn't post today. Various annoying things (migraine and the weirdest cold I've had in a while--it comes, it goes, it comes again) kept me away from the computer. Since I did a side-by-side  of me and Tori, I thought I'd also do one of Charlie as well. Wasn't he cute?

Side by side of him and Tori:

And of course, all three of us:

Now, I must go to sleep. Promise a good post tomorrow. About something. I hope.

25 Months

My darling Tori Anne,

You are 25 months old today. Which means you are already one month past becoming two years old. It really is becoming crazy, how fast the time is going. Two years ago, each day passed in a slow, languid peace of sleeping, feeding and changing you, and sleeping again. You were such a tiny little thing two years ago.

But not now! Now you are super active baby. OK, super active KID. Because honestly, you are not really a baby these days. You are a KID. I have to accept that. I have to stop saying, "The baby is napping," because people are wondering if I went and had another baby and didn't tell anyone because they know that you are a little kid now.

Speaking of having another baby, have I mentioned how happy I am that we are NOT going to do that? I know when you read this when you are older you might feel a bit sad and wistful that you don't have any siblings. I'm sorry if that's true. But the truth is, my darling girl, you were all we could handle.

Have I mentioned your energy level? Because you have the energy of, well, I don't know. I've never seen anything with the energy you have. Plus, you have the endurance of a marathon runner. You never wind down. No, really. You are running full tilt--literally, often around the ottoman in the living room, big giant laps--until the MOMENT we put you in bed. You do not get all sleepy and come and cuddle with us. Instead, the hour before you go to bed at night involves you running across the living room and then flinging yourself onto the floor or couch. Or throwing a ball as hard as you can. Or climbing on the dog. Or taking every single toy out of the ottoman (God bless the storage ottoman) and throwing them across the room. Finally, at 8pm at the latest, we trick you into going upstairs to brush your teeth. Because if there is one thing you absolutely LOVE to do, it's brush your teeth. You do it so often and for so long it's a wonder you have any teeth left in your head. Once we get you brushing your teeth, it's not too hard to get you to go into the crib. Then you do fall asleep easily--thank God, you don't require a huge amount of fuss to go to sleep--and sleep through the night for the most part. And for the last couple of weeks you've been sleeping until 7:30 or 8am, which is great, because that little phase you had of getting up before 6am? Well, it was killing us.

It's summer, and we have been BUSY. I hate to keep harping on your energy level, but we've come to accept the fact that you are happiest (thus, we are also happy) when you have two activities a day, the afternoon one being very strenuous--like 3 hours at the pool. In the mornings you've been hanging out with your new babysitter this last two weeks, and that has been AWESOME because Mommy and Daddy are really able to get a lot of work done (we have a babysitter because your morning daycare program is off for the summer). Plus, she's a music teacher, so you are having a great time learning all about music with her. The days she doesn't come you go to a "playgroup" that is held during Mommy's meetings. Then you nap, and we work, and then you are up at we hit the pool by 4pm or so. Or go to a local arboretum and view the giant tree houses and walk for a couple hours. Or go to the playground, if it's not too hot, and stay for a really long time. Whatever we do, we do it a LOT.

Speaking of the pool, you are CRAZY about the water. Also? You are completely, utterly fearless. Other parents watch you and say to us, "Seriously, she's TWO?" and we smile, smugly, and say, "Just TURNED two." Because you fling yourself off the steps of the pool and swim eight or ten feet to me, over and over again, getting water up your nose and in your mouth without the least bit of fear or worry. You expertly spit the water out and just keep going. You do wear those little arm floaties, which keeps you from sinking, but you bob under constantly without concern. In fact, when other kids around you dunk under, you use your buoyancy as a sort of springboard to dunk your head under as well. You run between the big pool and the baby pool, probably at least six times a visit, stopping only periodically for snacks and diaper changes. We often say that you could use just a touch more fear, but I love watching you have a great time at the pool. In fact, when the pool first opened for the season each time we came home from it my face actually ached from smiling so much. That is all thanks to you.

We've been up to the mountains a lot too, and that has been great. You seem to have no problems at all going back and forth, as long as we keep your DVDs running on the drive up. You love going to the lake up there to swim; because the beach is wide and shallow, it's like a huge baby pool and you can do whatever you want and keep walking. You especially love sitting in the water up to your neck and finding rocks and tossing them. Over and over. It's so funny. We haven't found you much interested in hiking, though. You get bored easily when there's nothing to see. You'll happily walk for a couple hours at a zoo or an arboretum, but try a nice peaceful mountain trail and you both refuse to walk AND refuse to ride in the backpack. Many a hike has ended with us carrying you, wearily, while you weep inconsolably. We're going to take your hearty stroller up there--the one your internet aunties bought for you--however, because a bunch of the trails are actually pretty smooth and it might work on them. We love hiking, and want to take you hiking too. You'll get there.

You continue to love drawing and painting in any form, and just in the last week you've begun to bring your drawings to your Mommy and Daddy and demand that we exclaim over them. It's adorable. You've also learned to say "OK" in the last couple of weeks and for some reason that is wickedly cute. Particularly when you are crying. You talk constantly and you know words we didn't know you knew every day (for instance, at the zoo you pointed to a camel and said, "Camel!" We have Diego to thank for that one). You continue to exert your will daily, but it's been much better this last month than the couple of months before it. Whatever you were working on seems to have come to pass so that we all are much more at peace. Or maybe we're just exhausting you; your legs are so muscular now that people actually mention it to us regularly. I've never heard anyone mention a two-year-old's muscles before.

I find myself falling back in love with you again this month, enjoying your abilities and even your willful struggles more and more. Lately you've been coming into bed with me in the morning, like you used to do when you nursed, and I love laying there quietly singing with you and laughing. We had a rough patch for a while there, but in the last ten days or so you've just been awesome. I love your energy and how it's pushing me to be more active, even when I secretly miss those days when I would just lay on the couch all day without a bra on watching TV. No more of those days for me! We are up and at 'em now. And that's a good thing.

I hope you enjoy these letters, my darling girl. Lately there's been some argument in the mom blogging world about "ownership" and "stealing ideas" and I know I stole borrowed the idea of these newsletters from another blogger. Hopefully she doesn't mind, but people can get all upset about it. I don't think it's that big a deal (and I wrote about it here), but you know how it is. I'm still going to write them, though, because I love looking back and seeing how far we've come as a family.

I love you so much, my darling girl. You are the best little girl in the whole world! Keep on being yourself, because you are turning out to be an awesome little person. I can't imagine my days without you.

Love,

Mommy

Father's Day

I just wanted to say Happy Father's Day to the very best dad in the world. :) Hope you enjoy this, baby.

Terrible Twos: Added Bonus!

I never got to do a post about what Tori's been up to in the last month since I just did the video for her birthday. The truth is, she's mostly been cranky. And stubborn. And whiny. And determined. She's also needy, demanding, easily fixated and just as easily distressed when the object of her fixation isn't available.

In fact, right now she's insisting that she needs to be in my lap because I am typing on my laptop. I didn't let her sit, so now she's tossed her binky across the room and is crying in frustration. Five minutes ago she wanted an orange because the family on Elmo's World was eating orange slices at a Chinese restaurant (why is it that I've seen that episode 10,000 times?). We don't have any oranges. So she cried about that too, along with another binky hurl.

I feel fairly certain that this is all normal.

But take Tori to the pool or the lake, and she's delightful. She jumps in, she can swim (while wearing arm floaties) about five feet, and she happily plays in the baby pool for hours on end. Take her to the playground and she'll entertain herself for a good hour. She loves sidewalk chalk, "painting" outside (a big paintbrush and a bowl of water, and she can paint all day). Indoors she loves singing, painting with watercolors, drawing with her crayons or markers, and watching her favorite shows.

Tori can mostly sing the alphabet song (although she does better with help). She knows more words than I can count and usually learns new ones within three hearings. She is very interested in the bathroom and asked to poop in the toilet the other day (she sat but didn't actually do anything). She absolutely adores brushing her teeth, to the point that Charlie jokes she's obsessive compulsive about it (she will ask to brush about six times a day).

She's great in restaurants (which is awesome). She's gotten much, much better at listening and will actually come when you ask her to and stop doing what she's doing when you ask--enough that I can take her into a store without her wrecking it.

She's loving and sweet, giving hugs freely, but she won't allow me to stroke her back or play with her hair ("no touch!" she yells). She loves to play "get you" which somehow we've managed to arrange involves just sitting on the floor while she runs away and back, away and back, away and back.

Since she got sick, she's been all about control when it comes to food. For several days she survived only on the frosting of mini-cupcakes and nothing else. Well, juice too. She suddenly dislikes all of her favorite foods and will often only eat whatever it is Charlie is eating (she's stolen many a sandwich from him). I'm not all that worried--after all, I read Moxie and I know that this is about the only area in which she can assert control, plus I've read eight million blog entries by moms going through exactly the same thing. But it frightens Charlie near to death--he seems to be convinced that she's going to wither away. Even though as a kid, he spent several years only eating Maypo. I don't think Tori is going to allow herself to starve to death. But it is frustrating to cook three or four different things for her and have her refuse to eat any of them.

Tori is still a great sleeper--blessedly. She is staying up later again, and often spends a fair amount of time in her crib reading books and talking to herself before falling asleep. She naps for at least two hours every day still as well (sometimes three). Sadly, she's been getting up earlier lately too--often at 6am or so. If we tire her out properly the day before, however, she will sleep until 7:30 or 8. Which rocks.

What else... oh, Tori is great at doing gang signs, as apparently the right wing press has hysterically named the fist bump that Barack and Michelle Obama shared recently.

We took Tori for a nice hike yesterday. We started early in the morning, sure that she'd be well rested and happy for the walk. Unfortunately, we chose a hike that was really too long for her. She made it about a half mile before she decided she wanted to neither walk nor ride in the backpack. She wanted Mommy to carry her. Not Daddy. Mommy. The walk was about two miles long. So there was lots and lots of crying.

I sound like I'm complaining, don't I? The truth is, parenting a recently-turned-two-year-old is more challenging than not. But each day is still full of little miracles, like when I ask Tori for a kiss and she instead just leans into me as if I'm the most awesome person in the world. Or when Tori laughs when I sit on the floor and wait for her to get me. Or when she is in the tub playing with her toys and laughing and talking to herself. Or watching her read books by herself. Or the sweet way her hair smells, and that wonderful curve of her neck that is perfect for play biting. Or the way she stomps her feet or walks backwards from something when she's mad.

Tori is adorable and lovable, a wonderful bundle of perfection and frustration. I love her more than anything. But I still wouldn't mind being able to type this blog entry without her hanging off my left arm. :)

........

Just had to pop back in here and add this hilarious clip. Thanks to the Blogess and her Good Mom/Bad Mom column!

Happy Second Birthday, Tori!

Four eyeball scalding hours later, and I've managed to compile a video of Tori's second year of life. Not quite as elegant as last year's movie, but includes more video (since we got a video camera at Christmas--thanks Sarah!). Music is "Lullaby" by The Dixie Chicks.

My god, she's gotten even more beautiful in the last year. How did we ever live without her?

Happy Birthday, my darling girl.

Mother's Day

It was Mother's Day again today. I woke up as I often do--with a splitting migraine. Charlie got up with Tori and I had a blissfully medicated extra hour of sleep, and then got up to make breakfast for a trailer full of people (I did have help, thanks to Sarah's daughter). Sarah, the other mother present, ended up doing the dishes.

Mostly what today was--and I am grateful for it--was NORMAL. It was simply another day.

Mother's Day is like navigating a field of  land mines for those going through infertility. I lived through at least four Mother's Day celebrations while trying to get pregnant. The worst one, of course, came three years ago after I'd lost the twins (oddly enough, when I went back to find what I'd written that year, I find that I was so busy buying and selling a house that I managed to stuff my feelings completely and I didn't write about it at all).

Last year on Mother's Day I was still full of bitterness, even though I had Tori. I'm not sure why, but I think while Tori was a baby I found myself feeling the loss of the boys so much more acutely than I do now, both because of the passage of time and the fact that I've never really been able to think of the boys as anything other than babies (if you know what I mean).

This year, though, I am so tired from chasing a toddler around that I find myself just feeling grateful that the only real thing I noticed about the day is that I didn't have to change a poopy diaper. Which is a pretty awesome Mother's Day present, after all.

Today was just a day. I paused several times today to hug Tori and thank her for making me her mother. But that's about it. I didn't honor or acknowledge the day otherwise (oh, ok, I called MY mother).

It's not that I've forgotten about the infertile years. Or that the scars from those years have faded in any way. But I no longer feel like the world is full of sharp and pointy edges that will snag my heart and rip it to pieces at any given moment.

And that has made this my favorite Mother's Day so far.

I hope some of you feel the same, and for those who still find the world sharp and pointy, I'm thinking about you. May you someday also enjoy a Mother's Day free of poopy diapers; but while you wait, I'll keep you in my heart and in my prayers. I hope today wasn't too awful for you.

23 Months

My Darling Tori Anne,

You are 23 months old. Do you know what that means? Next month you will be TWO. I can't believe it. Unlike last year at this time, I have done no thinking about your birthday party at all. No, really, not a bit. However, your Daddy wants one thing for sure at your party: a pony. Yes, he's quite serious.

Several things have changed this month. One of the biggest changes didn't come from you, it came from us. We made the decision to stop letting you run roughshod all over us, and actually begin practicing some discipline and instituting--and honoring--some boundaries. We decided that you cannot be trusted to walk on the sidewalks unrestrained (after the third time you ran into the street) so we got you a leash. OK, not really a leash, but a little backpack that we buckle on to you that has a, well, leash attached to the back. It's been wonderful, because you don't seem to mind it and now when we walk there is NO STRESS. It's wonderful. Our new focus on keeping you safe includes the three "R's": restraint, restrict, and redirect. It has made a huge difference, and honestly, I think you are happier too. Luckily, all those times we let you watch Dora have come in handy; whenever we have to put the leash on you, we just sing the backpack song, and you happily don the contraption. See, there is a point to that annoying show after all.

You continue to be the bravest little girl I know, running far and fast, climbing high at the playground, and flinging yourself down slides while yelling "Whee!" at the top of your lungs. Nothing holds your attention for too long, however, unless there are other kids involved. Your favorite thing to do is to trick the older kids into chasing you. You love that, and when it happens, you laugh and laugh and laugh.

We took you to the zoo again recently (you hadn't been in almost a year) and WOW did you love it. It was amazing for you to see in person all those animals you've read about in your books and seen on television. You especially loved the monkeys, running up to them all yelling "Monkey!" and then making monkey sounds. It was adorable, but the monkeys just looked bored.

I know I say this every month, but your language skills have gone CRAZY. You say at least five new words a day, or at least words I haven't heard you say before. You repeat almost everything we say, which I learned the other day when you dropped your sippy cup in the car and said, "Oh fuck." You parrot sounds, songs, and words with frightening accuracy and your understanding of the words is amazing. You frequently speak in short sentences now (just the other day you said, "Mommy, sit on couch!"), and are more and more able to make your demands very, very clear.

You have also been able to grasp much more complex ideas over the last few weeks. You understand now what we mean when we say "later" and you always remember what we promised to do. Some of the concepts you get now are challenging, particularly the idea of "mine." EVERYTHING is yours. Luckily, since you know what something means when it's yours, you are also getting much better at understanding when something is NOT yours. Lucky for us. You are much better at leaving my laptop alone now (except for that time you pulled on the cord while it was charging and pulled it to the floor--fun times).

You are still great at two things--two BIG things. You are a great sleeper (12 hours a night uninteruppted plus a two+ hour a nap every day? And you sleep until 7am most days? We are SO LUCKY), and you are a good eater. Although you almost never eat vegetables. Unless we sneak them into something. Luckily, I read about a million blogs by mothers of toddlers, and you are just like every other child in the world--subsisting entirely on a steady diet of chicken nuggets. Luckily, you eat fruit and fruit strips, and you happily eat your "candy" every day (it's actually a vitamin; someday I'll tell you). You are growing fast and furious, and are cuter every single day.

Tori, you have lit my life up from the inside out. Each day with you is a wonder, and I cannot thank you enough for giving me back the small things in life: the beauty of dandelions, the joy of blowing bubbles, and the simple peace of cuddling on the couch. You are a dream come true, and I cannot wait to show you the rest of the world. I love you more and more each day.

Love,

Mommy

One of Those Annoying Mothering Confessions

So, I've become a yeller.

This is the last thing I want to be. It's not like I have a family history of it either; my mom faced plenty of hurdles raising me and I have to say, I have no memories of her yelling much until I was a teenager (then, alas, said yelling was sadly deserved). But me? I yell. I yell at Tori constantly.

And I hate myself for it.

Plus, it's completely ineffective.

Even as I type this I want to explain myself, and blame Tori--blame her spirited ways (and yes, before eight million people say it, I will get that book), her challenging sheer physicality, her incredible curiosity, and her grabby grabby grabbiness (a couple of days ago she climbed up onto a dining room chair, onto the table, found the salt shaker, and salted the entire first floor. Then danced in it). I want to throw up my hands and say, "It's not my fault! I just don't know what else to do!"

But I don't want to keep doing it, and, like I said, IT DOESN'T REALLY WORK.

The underlying issue is fear, of course. Tori has now not once, not twice, but three times run into the street. She is very fast, refuses to hold our hands (she cries and lies down if we try) and when carried lunges about so strongly that both Charlie and I think we have concussions from being head butted. So if we are walking to the playground (a mere block away), we have to try to herd her to keep her out of the street. And if we come to a driveway, she sees the downhill slope and is all like WHEE! and runs right down it into the street. Honestly, I don't think it should require the full attention of two adults to walk a toddler a block.

But see, I'm doing it again, I'm explaining how it's Tori's fault, her over exuberant behavior that causes both me and Charlie to frequently exclaim "TORI! NO!" at top volume. Tori's reaction? About 50% of the time, she turns around to see what the excitement is all about.

Gah.

This whole thing is made to seem even worse by our wonderful neighbors who have a boy about six months older than Tori that Tori loves to play with.  We spend a fair amount of time either in our front yards or in their back yard. These neighbors never yell. They admonish their son gently and with love and he responds to it every single time. Even though they just had a second baby, they still never raise their voices. Admittedly, when they gently admonish Tori, she completely fucking ignores them the same way she completely fucking ignores us. 

I don't know what to do. I'm not sure I'm asking for advice here; in fact, let's just say I'm not, that instead I'd prefer sympathy and empathy. Right now advice would feel a bit too much like punishment (I'm having a sensitive day, what can I say--I just stopped taking birth control pills so my hormones are whacked and I'm turning 40 Saturday!).

I will say that whole "talk to your toddler like a Neanderthal" thing does work with Tori occasionally. Using short word combinations I know she knows and looking her dead in the eye can get her to respond (mostly "No kick Mommy!" and "Slide? Playground? Eat lunch!" that sort of thing). But even that is useless in communicating to her that if she runs into the street when a car is coming... I can't even think about it.

My options seem to be to restrict her further--like not allow her on the front lawn unless we fence it in (which NO ONE in our neighborhood does, I'm sure it would NOT go over well), put her on a damned leash, or just not go outside. I could put her in the stroller to walk the block to the park except the only thing she hates more than holding my hand is the stroller (plus, the whole point is to get her to exercise, and walking is good for her!).

Damn it. I just want my daughter to be safe, and that's why I yell, because she terrifies me with her fearlessness and bravery and curiosity.  But the yelling is just increasing MY anxiety and not improving her behavior, so it's got to go.

Man. Just tell me that this gets easier soon, OK?

22 Months

My Darling Tori Anne,

I swear this month went by faster than I thought possible. It's been a busy month, a good month, and you've changed a lot, and all in very good ways. Last month I thought I'd tear my hair out in frustration at your antics, but in the last couple of weeks something has broken through in that noggin of yours and you've gotten much easier to cope with. We've had some really good times lately and you seem to have settled back in to being home and doing things with us quite easily.

We still have a couple of disagreements: you still run at the pool, which is a no-no, and you don't come when we call, and you don't like holding our hands when we cross the street OR being picked up (apparently you prefer the third option, being mowed down by a car, but we'd rather skip that if that's OK). But over all, you can focus on activities more these days be in drawing, painting, or playing ball (the rare times we can play ball at home, when the dog is out).

We've discovered that while the YMCA closest to us doesn't have afternoon swim hours, one that shares membership privileges not too far away does and we have been taking full advantage. You love swimming, and you jump in fearlessly, and wade in up to your chin fearlessly, and will duck your head underwater fearlessly. Indeed, other adults say that word more about you than any other: fearless. Frankly, we could use you having just a touch MORE FEAR. But the swimming has been a great way to tire you out and get all of us some exercise, and we all enjoy it, although we haven't gone as much this week cause this is Mommy's migraine week. Hopefully when you are older you won't remember these horrible weeks of Mommy's migraines. With any luck they will be a dim, dim memory even for Mommy.

We've also been trying to encourage Spring's arrival by going out and hiking more. You always like the first part of the hike and will gamely walk along for about a mile or so, and then you prefer to stop and do things like ride the dog, or, oddly, comb your hair with a muddy stick. We haven't exactly figured out how to handle the last part of the hike where you no longer want to walk, or be carried, yet. We'll get there.

You are also so much more a kid now. I took you to story time at the library yesterday (where, oddly enough, I was treated no differently with the pink hair--still, no one talked to me) and you were much more interested in the games and activities and other kids than you were a few short months ago. You also finally have become interested in that tutu your Internet auntie made for you and have been wearing it and dancing about in it, which is just too adorable for words (and we won't tell her about putting it on the dog, OK?).

You are an amazing child. Yesterday I found at the store for a mere $20 a kid's laptop and in a desperate hope that if you had a toy laptop maybe, just maybe, you would leave our laptops alone, I bought it. It said it's for 3-5 year olds, but I decided not to care, and OH MY GOD you love it. It's your new favorite thing. You wanted to take it to bed last night. You'd rather play with it than eat. And I had no idea that you knew which was the number seven, and yes, you will sit and play with it while we work, which is HEAVEN.

Watching you grow up is such a joy, but it is going by so quickly already! I feel like it's spinning faster and faster and I'm already forgetting important little details that I will be so sad to not remember. You continue to push and challenge us, but you also continue to make my heart grow and grow. I am so filled with love for you sometimes I can barely breathe. You are my wonderful, fantastic, spectacular little girl. I love you, Tori Anne.

Love, Mommy

PS: I couldn't help but include some video clips this month. :)

Scarred Hands

The Sunday after Easter is often the time, in Christian churches, when the story of doubting Thomas is told. If you are like me and are either a really shitty Christian or not a Christian at all you may not know that the phrase "doubting Thomas" comes from the story in the bible where the apostle Thomas refuses to believe that Jesus has risen from the dead until he, personally, "sees the wounds in his hands and touches the wound in his side." Naturally, as it works out, Jesus shows up yet again and the lucky bastard does get his proof and is gently admonished by Jesus who says, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet still believe."

Of course, this is where the rest of us are. We are the ones who have not seen, whether it's Jesus or whatever form of God or God-like spirit you want to believe in. Imagine how much easier it would be to believe? It seems to me that the apostles had it rather easy, eh?

I've been a pretty strong doubting Thomas since the boys died. Worse, I've been all "Yeah, God might exist but he doesn't love ME." It's been an uphill battle changing my own mind about this the last few years. My minister on Sunday closed his sermon with a story that touched me profoundly. He told about a young boy living on the frontier with his grandmother, and how one night their house caught fire. Because it was a frontier town, there wasn't much of a fire department, so although the grandmother tried to rescue the boy on the second floor, she was overcome by smoke and perished on the first floor. The boy was upstairs yelling for help as a crowd gathered, not knowing what to do. Finally, a man in the crowd pushed his way forward and began climbing up the iron drainpipe to rescue the boy. The drainpipe, of course, was searing hot from the fire, but the man managed to get into the room, put the boy on his back, and climb back down while the crowd cheered.

After the fire burned out, and things had settled down, a town meeting was called to decide where the boy would live. The whole town came to see to the boy's fate. A farmer stepped forward, and said, "I'll take the boy; I can teach him a valuable trade!" Everyone nodded with approval. Then the town's teacher stood up and she said, "He can live with me; I'll make sure he gets a wonderful education!" More heads nodded. The town's banker stood up self-importantly and said, "I'll make sure he lives in the largest house in town!" Everyone seemed to think that was splendid.

Finally, the meeting leader asked if there was anyone else. There was a pause, and then, from the back of the room a man stood up and said, "I can't offer much. I can't teach a trade, or provide a big house or a great education. All I can offer is my love." Then he pulled his hands out of his coat pockets and showed the scars covering them and of course it was the man that had climbed the drainpipe and rescued the boy. The boy ran into his waiting arms, and the meeting was over, because the decision had been made.

...

This story was, of course, compared to Jesus. My minister compared the burns on the man's hands to the scars from Jesus being nailed to the cross. I must confess, while I remain steadfast in my refusal to fully succumb to the allure of Jesus-ness (Jesus-ocity?), I was moved. Deeply moved, and deeply humbled.

I realized that God doesn't promise us much; not big houses, not great educations, not even the rescue of our loved grandmothers that burn to death below us--or, if you will, the loss of our twin boys. But God did sacrifice something--I'm not sure what (Christianity says God sacrificed his son; interesting parallel there, no?) to bring us that love.

Oh, it's been such a long time since I could feel that so clearly.

I hope I'm telling this right. It's so hard to communicate it effectively. I've been trying to impart a tiny piece of this truth, or maybe this hope, to our friend Fred (remember Fred? the guy from my church that was working for us?) who is continuing to struggle. He's not struggling so much with his sobriety these days, but that's only because he has no money to buy drugs with.

I've been trying to explain to him the idea of pride, and the idea of humility. I've had some good lessons in humility lately, such as my unattractive reaction to the woman that attacked me last week (respond, don't react--I'll file that one away), and the gentleman that took me aside at one of my meetings and asked me to share more kindly about my husband (ack), among others. For me, my spiritual journey is a constant battle of humility and pride.

Fred's battle with pride seems unlikely, considering that he's homeless. He was kicked out of living at the church (for good reasons I won't get into here). He briefly went into a rehab, but left after a few weeks. He recently was offered a dishwashing job but had a communication issue with the boss (primarily because he doesn't have a phone and uses ours) and took that as a reason to not take the job), and actually said he was better off sitting outside on a bench than washing dishes.

I got so angry with him. When I told him to practice some humility, what he hears is he has to eat shit. When the jobs he wants won't hire him, he says to me, "Do I have a sign on my forehead?" and I think, yes, Fred, you do, you have one that says, I won't take any shit and that make bosses not want to hire you. He cannot see that the situation he's in is one of his own making and that he has to bow his head and act humbly if he wants his life to change. Even though the only time he eats is when he's here (I just found this out yesterday, and it makes my heart hurt). Even though he gets maybe five hours of sleep a night at the shelter.

He cannot see God's love. He does not see the scarred hands. All he sees is the lack of the nice house, and the good education, and the job. He only sees deprivation. He refuses to see the abundance, although it's hard to blame him--it's got to be difficult to see abundance when you only eat four or five times a week and you are living on the street.

I do not know how to give this to him. I do not know how to impart humility. I do not know how to give the gift I've been given--the ability to see past all the pain, and instead see the joy. I have been given a great gift! I have such an amazing life, and somehow, after all my railing against it, all my self-pitying bullshit, I still have God's love. What a wonder.

But no matter what I do, I cannot take Fred's face and force it into the light. I do not see good things for him right now. I do not want to withdraw my helping hand, yet I do not know how much more I can do. He sees our helping hand withdrawing and it only makes him more bitter, more sure that God has rejected him.

It's hard work, being the only tenuous connection someone has to God. Especially when you aren't sure if that is what you are actually doing; if instead, what you might be doing is helping someone continue to tread water when they should actually be swimming to shore.

But I digress. I wanted this to be a happy post about how I felt so sure that I could once again feel God's love; and it is, and I do. Oh man, I really, really do. But that makes it all the more clear that some people don't feel that same love, and that hopelessness I feel from Fred is so stark and awful I can almost not bear it.

So, I'll ask a favor of you all. Pray for him. Think good thoughts for him. Because I think the end of this road for him is coming; either he will turn toward the light or he will turn toward, well... the place that addicts and alcoholics go when they don't: jails, institutions, death. But I hope he turns.

Because MAN is this a great place to be.

On A Much Lighter Note: The New Hairdos

I finally have pictures of Tori's splendid new hairdo, thanks to my awesome friend Danielle:

Sorry for crappy photo quality. I've had a bad photo week.

And, once again thanks to the wildly amazing gifts of my friend Danielle I present Cecily's pink hair do-over, 25 years later:

Children openly stare, teenagers are green with envy, and adults carefully look past me. It's hilarious. By the way, she dyed my eyebrows too which is why they look twice as big and I look kind of pissed off (and why I had to don sunglasses for this photo--much plucking must happen).

I must say, it has cheered me immensely. Nearly 40 is the PERFECT time for pink hair, because it's just for fun and not for rebellion. It rocks.

Video!

As my thanks for being kind enough to answer that very awkward survey (much less awkward if you are a blogger, I must say), here are two miscellaneous clips of Tori. One features Tori singing with Charlie, and one is of Tori attempting to use chopsticks. Perhaps I'm cruel to include that one, since it ends so badly, but it's just so damned funny to me because, frankly, I wish I was still allowed to respond that way when things didn't work out for me either. Heh.

21 Months

My darling Tori Anne,

Yesterday you turned 21 months old. But everyone agrees that you are mature for your age, and that you, in fact, have hit what folks like to call "the terrible twos." I'm not going to say that you are terrible. No, I'm not that kind of mother. I'm just going to say that you are, well, demanding. Challenging. Exasperating. OK, wait, even that sound too negative. It's just that your brain is firing on 25 cylinders, and I only have 12, and I can't quite keep up. It's not your fault, it's just that the world is such that toddlers aren't able to be raised in the wild where they can run all day long at will anymore, and as a result, we grown ups that are in charge of you can't quite cope with your incessant need to pry, poke, twist, climb, and pull on everything in the universe. We don't get it. Basically, you need to go live at a place like the Ikea foam ball bin until you are four or five. Then it will be fine.

Are you familiar with the old Celtic Myth of the changelings? This is a myth where parents believed that faeries or elves replaced human children with their own, leaving in their place a much wiser and more wily child that they would have to raise. Sometimes the human parents would take these kids and leave them outside for several days in the elements until they were so weak with hunger that they believed that the elves had switched the children back and they would bring the kid inside again. I think this was really all about the start of the so-called terrible twos because, honestly, one day you were this sweet cuddly and mostly rational child with reasonable requests and then suddenly a switch was flipped and you became this maniac that we could not seem to please. I find myself suddenly being somewhat empathetic with parents that created a myth that involved leaving their child outside for a few days until they become a bit quieter. Not that I'd ever do that to you--I promise, I would NEVER. But if you see me standing in the corner of the room banging my head on the wall because you just yelled "No! No! No! No! No!" and threw the third meal I'd offered you to the floor and the dog ate it all and now you are crying because it's gone, know that I'm doing that because I love you and the head banging is my alternative to surrendering you to the elements.

You've become very fussy about food in the last month. Sometimes you chow down on anything--when we were on vacation (we'll get to the vacation in a moment) you ate a LOT of beans and rice, and luckily, we were in a place where that was very easy to get. But you've developed a great deal of very specific preferences lately, such as food must be in its wrapper--if you are eating a fruit leather strip (very healthy, organic, I promise), and it falls out of the wrapper, you become completely dismayed and demand for us to fix it. And when you get to the last bite--you know, the one you can't get out without taking it out of the wrapper? Well, then it's just the end of the world and we have to give you a NEW piece of fruit leather. So our lives are full of half-eaten things now.

But you've also become much more playful and silly in the last month. You like to dress up a lot more, wearing your cowboy hat and your tiaras a lot more, and wearing my shoes around the house and doing very cute and silly things like putting pants on your head.

As I mentioned we did take you this month on an extended vacation, and I have to say, as difficult as it was for you, you were really pretty awesome. Your daddy and I really should have planned to take more time for ourselves so we got a bit less stressed out, and your mommy got pretty sick on the trip too, but overall, you really were a trooper.