I'm Still Here, World

In which Stuff Happens, and i don’t write much about it.

              Just reporting in to let you know I’m still alive.  With the warmth and green of summer beckoning me outdoors so constantly, I find that I have little inclination to sit down and write.  I am busy cooking, cleaning, and mothering.  I have begun many new adventures in the art of bread/pasta/yoghurt/rice milk making.  Successes all.  Additionally, I have finally mastered—no, conquered—the art of the seed sprout, after many failed attempts.  It turns out that my wheat berries were bad, or unsproutable anyway.  If any of you out there are interested in such random acts of healthiness, I highly suggest you look into this.  They don’t take a lot of effort once you get the hang of it.  And they are so tasty and healthy—way better than a multi-vitamin.  If I remember, I’ll come back to this topic in later days.

              In my gardening adventures I find myself wondering more and more why I felt the need to try this tomato thing so much—they aren’t happy being almost rained to death here in good old Anchorage.  Part of the problem may be that as I ruminate on the immanent failure of my tomatoes, I end up looking right over their unhappy shaggy shoulders and my glance falls directly on the most beautiful spinach, bok choy, kale, and broccoli leaves.  They are lush, full, healthy, and thriving.  Thank goodness.  It does make me feel better about the whole nearly-dead tomato thing.

              And, my child is suddenly a playground prodigy.  Today she managed a ladder, went down a tall curly slide, and climbed up the side of a jungle gym, all while wearing the girly dress she insisted on today.  When I caught her (gently) dumping rocks onto the head of the little boy who taught her all of these impressive moves, I was almost proud.  She’s actually acting like a normal 2 year old at the playground!  Maybe—just maybe—her days of whiny, tantrum, hold onto Mom’s legs days are over!  Not that I want her to throw rocks at other kids, exactly.

              Also, here are some more impressive photos of the wildlife at Denali:

Tolkat bears: the only place where they come as  true blondes.  Notice that spring had only just arrived by the end of May.

 I know.  Bad joke.

How to NOT Potty-train Your Child

In which our Heroine’s Child defecates in her Bathwater. 

              Over the past month I have gotten into the lamentable habit of letting my child sit in the bathtub every morning for 30-40 minutes.  During these coveted few moments I turn into a whirlwind of motion.  I start laundry, do the dishes, make bread, sweep, vacuum, or any number of activities that are easier without Eva’s help.  This works for me because Eva greatly dislikes getting her head wet, so I can trust that drowning won’t come easily.  Besides, I stay nearby.  During my convalescence last fall, my mother taught me the free-babysitting bathtub trick, to which I have directed many a grateful thought. 

              Or, maybe not so “free.”  Moral: there is always a price to pay. 

              I was happily folding laundry when my child began screaming “Poopy, poopy, poopy,” at the top of her lungs.  Sudden visions of the worst burst into my mind as I sprinted up the steep half-flight of stairs.  Sure enough, it was everywhere.  Well, everywhere in the water anyway.  First thought: “That’s a lot of poop.  Does she do this normally?  How does it all fit in her diaper?”  Second thought: “I hate cleaning the tub.”  And then, surely one of the most ironic dilemmas in the history of mankind: Where do I put my unsanitary child while I sanitize the unsanitary bathtub that should be used to (you guessed it) sanitize said child.  Later I would wonder which toys were actually in the tub at the time of defecation, and which she tried to save and put away in the basket herself (because she is the kind of child who would). 

              Eva was fascinated by actually seeing her poop in action for once.  She was also (thankfully) repulsed by it and understood that playing with it was NOT desirable.  Perhaps she noticed the putrid smell emanating from the warm waters.  I certainly did.  My sense of smell is particularly acute due to the whole tumor-in-head thing.  Eva’s been interested in toilets for a long time.  The signs are there—I need to get going on this potty-training excercise.  There’s a problem, though.  I have no idea how to actually do it.  Also, I have a lot of diapers still (darn Costco box!)  Oh—and the under-developed, adolescent part of myself has manifested, and I don’t want to.  Of course, another part of me is reminded that I’ll be cleaning up a lot more excrement in the end if I don’t suffer the inevitable. 

              Hats off to my sister-in-law Michelle, who once tried to bathe her three children all at the same time in my puny college apartment’s bathtub.  My terrible memory may be embellishing a few details, but here’s what I remember.  Eli’s tattle-tale voice: “Mom! McKinley just pooped in the bathtub!” and Logan’s accompanying “Eww!”  And from small McKinley, a giggle.  Poor Michelle.  She has recently written on Facebook that she is finally done with diapers, after a combined total of ten and a half years.  Again, the moral: There is always a price to pay.

A Toddler's Birthday Dream

In which Eva turns Two. 

                I am overwhelmingly glad to still be around for my child’s birthday.  As of a few days ago, she turned two.  I decided that since it was her birthday, she could do pretty much whatever she wanted and I would try not to lose my patience.  So… I guess you could say that what I gave her for her birthday was a gift-wrapped box of (somewhat inadequate) patience.  Here is my photo-documentary of the special day:

First, there was the hour long bath… without hair-washing because she dislikes getting her head wet.

Then Eva got to mix her own pancakes.  This is her defending her whisk.  Get away from my bowl, Mom!

Unfortunately, I did have to steal a little pancake mix so I could cook a pancake for her.  She’s hurt to the core by this utter betrayal.

So I placated her with excess syrup.

Then she got to do the dishes,

And sweep the floor. 

Playing in the backyard was fun.  Look!  No coat!  I sat in a lawn chair nearby.

My friend Sharlene dropped by with some birthday cupcakes.  Eva spent some time distributing lunch (ahem, cupcake crumbs) across my kitchen with her friend Katie.

Then she opened a present from Grandmama (my mom).  Eva is now the proud owner of an entire band.  Well, except for the harmonica, which I have now appropriated for my own use.

Instead of taking a nap, Eva got to go play in a mud puddle.  After that I lost my patience and quit taking pictures.  There’s a reason why toddlers take naps!

Reasons to Travel More

In which our Heroine convalesces; or, the Benefits of Procreation. 

Sorry I’m such a blogging dork.  I honestly forgot to write yesterday, and today I have no desire to type out my thoughts at all.  I think I am still struggling with being healthy from this cold and getting the basic things in life done—at least, that’s what today’s over-long nap seems to indicate.  I dropped so many hints tonight about Jon taking Eva to scouts with him that he actually caught on and did it.  Good husband.  And I get a much-needed break from Curious George episodes.  My daughter’s brains are rotting, but on sick days, momma has a “you can pretty much watch whatever you want” rule.  Well, until I feel like writing something worth reading, I will offer some photos from my trip.  These are Eva with just a few of her cute cousins (there are many more):

Eva and Jonas: almost exactly the same age, height, weight, etc…  Got along really well mainly because Eva was fully entertained just watching Jonas being busy.

Eva and Luka: this picture is not indicative of their relationship.  They had some cute moments, but Eva is just feisty enough to go at it with Luka on a regular basis.

Eva and Maren: liked each other quite a bit—mainly because Maren is very patient.

Chase, Mae-Mae (Marina), and Eva: Chase is the best babysitter ever!  Eva and Mae-Mae were only slightly jealous of eachother…

Eva and Benson: Loved each other, but again, this is mostly because Benson just doesn’t care when certain other children swipe his toys.

The Best Monkey Money Can Buy

In which our Heroine finds Health in Hidden Places. 

Generally speaking, I am opposed to encouraging child addictions to the media.  However, in this one instance, I heartily extol the virtues of the portable DVD player and the true health and happiness it can bring to the whole family while traveling from state to state.  Notice the very appropriate signage above the screen (okay, maybe not the money part).  Also featuring Eva’s new fix: Curious George.  Never was there a more splendid monkey.

Don't Leave

In which our Lady’s Mother-in-law Flies in from “The Lower 48.”

Dear Mother-in-Law Dianne,

Please don’t ever leave me again.  I will admit that my reasons are mostly selfish.  For the last month and a half of your Christmas vacation, I have had to beg for rides from people all over this side of town.  People are willing, but I am so tired of asking.  The last few weeks, I decided to quit asking and I just stayed home all day long every day.  BOR.ING.  I am also very tired of having no relief from my child.  She’s cute, but she gets antsy when she can’t leave the house.  Oh, and have I told you yet that after you left  Eva would periodically run up to the door whenever she heard a sound outside and expectantly say “Grammy?”  Apparently, I just don’t cut it.  But for now I will push my jealousy aside and express gratitude for your willingness to do so much for my family.  Please, don’t leave for the rest of winter. I may die in your absence, if my daughter doesn’t expire first.

Beseechingly yours,

Tara

P.S. Thanks for driving me to my hair-cut appointment tomorrow morning at 11:30.  I’ll see you here at 11:20?

Naked Bandit

In which our Heroine’s Child becomes villainous. 

Christmas is such a lovely day filled with gift giving: good family times in the early morn hours, the charming shaking of beautifully wrapped boxes, the frantic tearing of pretty paper, the maniacally giggling children everywhere—and oh yes, the memory of the sweet baby Jesus in his poor manger.  The day after (or rather two days after) Christmas is quite a different story. 

The raging naked child bouncing against the sides of her crib upstairs is not mine.  Nor is it the fault of a young, susceptible mother who was only trying to give her precious little one a nice Christmas.  In a somewhat futile attempt to pin the blame on someone or something, I choose the evil, plotting scoundrel of commercialism. 

Drat that foe.  Many a man or woman has fallen to its sweeping tide of glossy items.  I am such a one of those helpless creatures.  Perhaps it was too much to grab the bathtub crayons from the side aisle as I walked out of Target that day.  How could I know I was laying the foundations of my eventual ruin?  The toddler on the front of the package looked so happy in his little bathtub, holding a little ball of a crayon that “fits perfectly in his small palm.”  His little belly button just peeked out above the bottom of the package.  Yes, I am blaming the carefully driven packaging.  Heck, at this point, I’ll even blame the toddler model’s parents who all participated in this dread scheme.  All toward my own demise as a mother. 

The problem with the after-bath tantrum is that the child is naked, wet, and diaperless.  Because of this, I exacerbated the problem by not administering swift tantrum punishment (throwing child in crib and shutting bedroom door until I hear happy sounds eventually emanating).  Instead, I made vain attempts to wrestle my child down on the floor with my weakened left arm while making the maverick effort to dress her bum in a clean diaper with my not-quite-dexterous-enough right hand.  Her wiggles were not cute.  Rather, the wiggles were frighteningly effective.  I gave up and put my naked bandit behind the bars of her jail-like crib.  Hark!  She has just quieted!  (Finally).  I’m sure Eva is even now shivering in her skivvies, waiting for her beleaguered and commercially sickened mother to make a jail break before she decides to pee her bedding. 

An Exercise in Confusion

In which Eva sits on a Tree Ornament

          Remember when I listed some of the funny things that Eva (Weva) does?  I mentioned that we sit on “exercise” balls together.  Well, yesterday, Eva found a small (1/2 inch in diameter) ball that had fallen off of one of our older tree ornaments.  She sat on it.  Or tried.  Apparently that small of a target is hard to hit when you’re trying to bend over and look at it at the same time.  From a parental standpoint I am proud and pleased that she knew what that little painted-up thing was for.

Weva (not a mis-spelling)

In which our Heroine delights in her daughter.

Man, being a mom is so worth it.  Here is a much-truncated list of cute things Eva does, along with experiences that are the best thing ever:

1.       My daughter calls herself “Weva” and it is really cute.  If she’s feeling blustery, it is a solid “Beva.”

2.       Every day we “Dance With the Animals.”  This is music video at the end of a Baby Einstein movie.  It involves running in place, hopping, making swimming and flying motions, and crawling.

3.       Every time I say good bye on the phone and hang up, Eva (or should I say Weva) says, “Bye Bye, See ya” in a sing-song voice.  This is confusing when her best friend Celia is over, because see ya sounds just the same as said child’s name. 

4.       When Eva is happy she lets out a low hum as she runs.  Her voice vibrates as she does this, by the way.  She has been doing it since about 6 months, first with just laying on a blanket, and then crawling.  No, wait—I just remembered that she used to do that at the very beginning every time she was happily nursing away.  Hmmm… maybe she’ll never stop? 

5.       Sometimes when Eva attempts to sing, she actually hits the exact notes of the song.  The rest is kind of meandering, of course.  But it is usually discernable.

6.       Jon taught Eva how to wear a superhero cape (dish-towel) and pose like a hero.  It’s great.  Unfortunately it is difficult to get a photo of this.

7.       When I sit on my exercise ball, she sits on hers too.  (One of those cheap balls from Walmart).  Really hard to take a picture of this.

8.       Eva’s laugh is loud “HA HA HA.”  No really, she actually ha-has.

9.       Her favorite words: crack-a (cracker), ti-ga (tiger), a nasally nian-da (panda), and puppy (puppy, puppet, pocket), and woof-woof. 

10.   Eva never goes down on the slide on her bum.  It is always a careful twist to the side while holding onto the top-side part, and then down by belly, feet first.  This is useful as she can hold food in her hand while sliding.  If you sit by her and clap when she goes down, she’ll never stop.   This is also useful for distraction of all kinds.

Homicide by Couch

In which our Heroine feels Pain! 

The bad news is that my daughter has developed a propensity toward hurting her mother badly by trying to yank the hair out of said mother’s head when she is innocently resting on the couch. 

The good news is that is that it hurts really bad, and that means the nerve endings from my incredibly awesome scalping session are healing very well.  In fact, I can feel sensation on every part of my head now.  The creepy crawlies are slowly fading away to be replaced by genuine itchiness—and some serious yelp-making pain.  By the way, this is not the first time Eva has made an attempt at hair follicle homicide.  It’s just that I can feel it now.

The Kissing Caper

In which our Lady trains her Child to become a cage-fighter

This is my child.  I asked her to smile, but instead she pulled a kissy face.  Every night before bed, Jon and I hold Eva up before a picture of Jesus and she kisses his representation with just this face—not irreligiously, but with true ardor.  Fantastic, is it not? I’m not yet sure who else she does this to on a regular basis instead of smiling.  The thing is, if she thinks you’re going in for a kiss but you’re taking your time about it, she’ll get this waiting look on her face and part her lips slightly.  It reminds me of the kissing advice they give on the movie Hitch. Yesterday she got to attend Nursery at church for the first time and I’m a little worried about her love of kissing, given all the slobbery and runny-nosed children adventuring about. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be though.  The only incident I actually heard of from Nursery was that Eva had a basketball and got backed into a corner by all the little boys as they tried to take it away (most of these boys are quite a bit larger than she is.  Little Eva would have none of that, and apparently fought or scared them off eventually.  My child the cage fighter.  I first saw her terrorize a 2 year old at 11 months.  Apparently like her mother, Eva’s ready response to difficult situations is “Boo!”

Morning Joys

IN WHICH THIS WOMAN WAKES AND FINDS SHE IS GLAD TO HAVE THE BREATH OF LIFE

And that she is happy to hear Eva’s happy morning giggles. In the book Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie, it is explained that fairies come alive when a baby laughs her first baby laugh. It is possible however, that my child has that super-ability every morning. She is so wildly happy to be rescued from her crib that whoever first opens her door in the morning is showered by the best baby sounds in the world, and lately, a “hiya!” as well. It is both wonderful and bittersweet to hear my mom or my husband open that door. It used to be me. But this morning I just felt glad to hear her.