Dear Jenny,
This week you turned the ripe old age of 21 (months), and you're acting more and more toddlerish every day.
You've gotten taller (some of your dresses are now mini-skirts) and your hair's gotten longer (though I still have no idea what to do with it - it hangs in your eyes and drives your grandpa crazy). I think you have a full set of baby teeth at this point, though it's hard to tell. You don't really let us look in your mouth, and teething has never bothered you much.
The biggest changes I've seen in you though have been in what you're doing these days. We hear new words come out of your mouth every day. (You just said your sister's name yesterday - much to our surprise & delight!) Some of the words are probably only intelligible to us (I defy anyone else out there to figure out what "cof-cof" is.) But it's clear that you know so much and are working so hard to express yourself. And you are so proud when you point to something and name it correctly. You do still think everyone's name is the same as yours though.
You're also doing lots of other things. You can stack blocks to make towers. You "read" books to yourself. You can do your wooden puzzles (though you prefer taking the pieces out to putting them back in). You've discovered the world of coloring, though sometimes you just like to take out the crayons and put them back in the box one at a time. You dance. You sing. You try to jump, stretching out on your tiptoes, though your feet never leave the ground.
Basically every day I'm with you I fall in love with you a little more. Each moment, good or bad, entwines us a little more tightly. I don't always feel like I'm doing a good job of being your mom baby girl, but I'm doing the best I can. And I can't express in words how precious you are to me, and how much I want to be the mom you need.
Love always-
Mama
Friday, June 20, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Trying
Dear Kids,
Today has not been a good day.
It started out great - Kori slept 8 hours straight last night (yippee!) and then went back to sleep for nearly another 4 hours not long after she woke up. However, that actually has been part of the problem.
See, I had all of these plans for what we might do today. It's a beautiful day here, so I thought we might walk to the park, play on the playground - maybe even take lunch with us and have a picnic. But since Kori was sleeping so well, I hesitated to wake her. So instead Jenny watched Sesame Street & I worked. Then we looked for other things to do. I pumped and flossed my teeth. We read books and I don't even know what. Then Kori woke up.
She was naturally hungry at this point, but this is also when things really started to head south. See, it was lunch time for the rest of us too, and while I was feeding Kori (and thus unable to effectively get up and chase Jenny around the house), chaos took over.
Jenny, sweetheart, please know that I love you dearly, but you can sometimes get on my last nerve. You pulled out magazines, envelopes, and shredded bits of paper from the recycling. (Oh, and ate a few pieces of shredded paper.) You pulled cushions off of chairs, threw books and toys all over the floor, pulled out cookbooks and recipes from a box, tormented a cat, and the final straw - climbed up onto the arm of a rocking chair. Every time I managed to get you down (using one arm & a leg - I should be an acrobat) you laughed maniacally and headed right back. I'm sorry if got a little rough at times in pulling you back, but you were really starting to make me mad!
I know that in the grand scheme of things this is nothing. In fact your behavior is entirely normal, understandable, and predictable at this point. It isn't new. So why does it still get to me? I feel guilty that we didn't get to have our fun morning at the park (though I'm glad I hadn't told you what I was planning). But I'm also aware that it's essentially by my choice that we didn't get to do that. I could have awoken the baby - she probably would have slept in the stroller anyway. But I didn't. I don't know why.
Lunch wasn't much better though. You always want whatever I'm having (again, nothing new here) - maybe you're just testing me to see if I'll actually give you whatever you want if you scream loudly enough? I don't know. By the end there was food everywhere and both of you were screaming.
All of this is perfectly normal on the part of both of you, so why does it get to me so much? I think maybe when you scream & cry I feel like I'm messing up or making a mistake somehow - maybe even hurting you. I know that's silly - in fact the opposite is sometimes true. I'm going to have to make decisions that are in your best interest - but you won't like them. You'll probably both scream and cry and tell me I'm not fair and that you hate me. But I'll know those decisions are the right thing to do.
The screaming & crying & throwing things & making giant messes also make me feel like I'm failing as a parent somehow. Like if I were a "good" mom you would never do those things. Again, totally irrational, right? You're babies for crying out loud! All of that is what you do!
So, I have no deep thoughts or nifty way to wrap things up here. I just needed to process the morning/afternoon's events a little bit to pull myself out of this feeling like I suck. Maybe one day reading this will help you realize the same thing, or maybe this post is just one to skip in the scrapbook. Who knows? I do know that this mom thing is testing me and teaching me in ways I never could have expected. Not sure I like that sometimes, but I think I'll end up being a better person for it.
Love always-
Mama
Today has not been a good day.
It started out great - Kori slept 8 hours straight last night (yippee!) and then went back to sleep for nearly another 4 hours not long after she woke up. However, that actually has been part of the problem.
See, I had all of these plans for what we might do today. It's a beautiful day here, so I thought we might walk to the park, play on the playground - maybe even take lunch with us and have a picnic. But since Kori was sleeping so well, I hesitated to wake her. So instead Jenny watched Sesame Street & I worked. Then we looked for other things to do. I pumped and flossed my teeth. We read books and I don't even know what. Then Kori woke up.
She was naturally hungry at this point, but this is also when things really started to head south. See, it was lunch time for the rest of us too, and while I was feeding Kori (and thus unable to effectively get up and chase Jenny around the house), chaos took over.
Jenny, sweetheart, please know that I love you dearly, but you can sometimes get on my last nerve. You pulled out magazines, envelopes, and shredded bits of paper from the recycling. (Oh, and ate a few pieces of shredded paper.) You pulled cushions off of chairs, threw books and toys all over the floor, pulled out cookbooks and recipes from a box, tormented a cat, and the final straw - climbed up onto the arm of a rocking chair. Every time I managed to get you down (using one arm & a leg - I should be an acrobat) you laughed maniacally and headed right back. I'm sorry if got a little rough at times in pulling you back, but you were really starting to make me mad!
I know that in the grand scheme of things this is nothing. In fact your behavior is entirely normal, understandable, and predictable at this point. It isn't new. So why does it still get to me? I feel guilty that we didn't get to have our fun morning at the park (though I'm glad I hadn't told you what I was planning). But I'm also aware that it's essentially by my choice that we didn't get to do that. I could have awoken the baby - she probably would have slept in the stroller anyway. But I didn't. I don't know why.
Lunch wasn't much better though. You always want whatever I'm having (again, nothing new here) - maybe you're just testing me to see if I'll actually give you whatever you want if you scream loudly enough? I don't know. By the end there was food everywhere and both of you were screaming.
All of this is perfectly normal on the part of both of you, so why does it get to me so much? I think maybe when you scream & cry I feel like I'm messing up or making a mistake somehow - maybe even hurting you. I know that's silly - in fact the opposite is sometimes true. I'm going to have to make decisions that are in your best interest - but you won't like them. You'll probably both scream and cry and tell me I'm not fair and that you hate me. But I'll know those decisions are the right thing to do.
The screaming & crying & throwing things & making giant messes also make me feel like I'm failing as a parent somehow. Like if I were a "good" mom you would never do those things. Again, totally irrational, right? You're babies for crying out loud! All of that is what you do!
So, I have no deep thoughts or nifty way to wrap things up here. I just needed to process the morning/afternoon's events a little bit to pull myself out of this feeling like I suck. Maybe one day reading this will help you realize the same thing, or maybe this post is just one to skip in the scrapbook. Who knows? I do know that this mom thing is testing me and teaching me in ways I never could have expected. Not sure I like that sometimes, but I think I'll end up being a better person for it.
Love always-
Mama
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Helicopters
Dear Jenny-
A few days ago we were playing outside (which around here generally means the front porch and driveway - at least until you get a little more adventurous), and you were doing your typical things. Trying to pop bubbles, climbing up and down the porch steps, and picking things up off of the ground and handing them to me.
In theory I don't mind the picking things up deal - I want you to be curious and explore the world. But in practice it means that you're picking up dirt, rocks, pieces of asphalt, and bits of plants or who knows what. I don't consider myself a germophobe, but there's a limit to how many blobs of dirt I want to handle or pry out of your mouth.
Anyway, this particular day it had rained quite a bit earlier, and there were helicopters all over the ground. These are the seeds of some tree or another (I don't really have a green thumb either you'll find), but they twirl like the blades of a helicopter when they fall to the ground. And if you pick them up and toss them into the air they'll twirl like that again. I realized when you picked the first one up and handed it to me that I hadn't thought about these little seeds in a very long time. It almost felt like I hadn't even seen one in years, though I know that isn't true.
I was a little amazed at the fact that I remembered anything about these things, but it was instantaneous. As soon as you picked it up I started talking, and then I tried to get your attention to show you how they fluttered to the ground. Being a typical toddler you didn't seem to care too much. You thought it was neat, but then you were on to the next bit of dirt. But I stayed wrapped up in the wonder of the little helicopters for awhile. I'm not sure why.
The best explanation I can come up with is that for a few moments I felt like a kid again myself. I was nearly transported back in time to the last time I played with helicopters, and how awed I was that they could move like they do. It's one of the hidden benefits of being a parent I think - getting random chances to revisit your childhood like that. I never expected it, but I liked it. It's easy to forget the simple but happy things like that.
So I guess the moral of the story is to pick up all the random stuff off of the ground you like - you never know what you'll find, and anything can lead to an adventure, even if it's just in your mom's head. Just please stop trying to put it all in your mouth, OK?
Love,
Mama
A few days ago we were playing outside (which around here generally means the front porch and driveway - at least until you get a little more adventurous), and you were doing your typical things. Trying to pop bubbles, climbing up and down the porch steps, and picking things up off of the ground and handing them to me.
In theory I don't mind the picking things up deal - I want you to be curious and explore the world. But in practice it means that you're picking up dirt, rocks, pieces of asphalt, and bits of plants or who knows what. I don't consider myself a germophobe, but there's a limit to how many blobs of dirt I want to handle or pry out of your mouth.
Anyway, this particular day it had rained quite a bit earlier, and there were helicopters all over the ground. These are the seeds of some tree or another (I don't really have a green thumb either you'll find), but they twirl like the blades of a helicopter when they fall to the ground. And if you pick them up and toss them into the air they'll twirl like that again. I realized when you picked the first one up and handed it to me that I hadn't thought about these little seeds in a very long time. It almost felt like I hadn't even seen one in years, though I know that isn't true.
I was a little amazed at the fact that I remembered anything about these things, but it was instantaneous. As soon as you picked it up I started talking, and then I tried to get your attention to show you how they fluttered to the ground. Being a typical toddler you didn't seem to care too much. You thought it was neat, but then you were on to the next bit of dirt. But I stayed wrapped up in the wonder of the little helicopters for awhile. I'm not sure why.
The best explanation I can come up with is that for a few moments I felt like a kid again myself. I was nearly transported back in time to the last time I played with helicopters, and how awed I was that they could move like they do. It's one of the hidden benefits of being a parent I think - getting random chances to revisit your childhood like that. I never expected it, but I liked it. It's easy to forget the simple but happy things like that.
So I guess the moral of the story is to pick up all the random stuff off of the ground you like - you never know what you'll find, and anything can lead to an adventure, even if it's just in your mom's head. Just please stop trying to put it all in your mouth, OK?
Love,
Mama
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