Miss Independent

At 19 months, Mia has decided that she's old enough to handle her own grooming, thank you very much. And most other aspects of her care, too.

These are the tasks she's ready to take over. My interference in any of these areas will not be tolerated.

• Fingernail cutting and toenail cutting (as shown in this photo).
• Deciding when and if to use her highchair. And climbing into and out of it at will.
• Hairbrushing and the affixing of barrettes.
• Clothing selection and dressing (as evidenced by her dress-on-dress combo, here.)
• Face-wiping.
• Tooth-brushing.
• Dispensing of "bitees" (vitamins).
• Feeding the cats.
• Folding clothes.
• Freeing herself from the horrible confinement of her diaper.
• Reading bedtime stories.
• Turning lights on and off (even--especially--when this means perching precariously on top of something to reach the switch).
• Zipping and unzipping of jackets.
  

She would also like to handle all incoming and outgoing cell phone calls, faxing, putting stamps on letters, and writing with pens. Oh, and she doesn't need baths anymore. Those are for babies, mom. Sheesh.

Next, she'll be asking to drive and wear heels. Sigh. They grow up so fast.

The Fearsome Fours

I’ve heard new moms quip that “three is the new two”—and it’s true, three-year-olds can dish out tantrums and power struggles that make the twos look positively angelic by comparison. But really, from my standpoint, the threes have nothing on the fours. The whining, the back talk, the sulking! So I’d like to propose an amendment to the saying du jour: I think four is really the new two.

What makes four so tough, I think, is that they’re really like little teenagers. Some parts of their development haven’t caught up with others. Their little minds seem to go non-stop and they spit out questions with alarming speed. They have overwhelming feelings and opinions that they can’t always articulate. And they’re increasingly conscious of the big, unfair, sometimes scary world they live in.

At four-and-a-half, Bianca is acutely aware of HER own needs, wants, and feelings, but she hasn’t yet learned to appreciate the feelings of others. It’s exhausting—some days, it seems like all we do is discipline, guide, redirect, comfort, reason, explain, answer, and repeat. Over and over again.

On the upside, four-year-olds can be insanely endearing. B makes tents for her sister. She treats the cats like her babies. She can help make dinner and clear her plate from the table afterward. She’s 100 % responsible for dressing herself and she usually does an amazing, if colorful, job. (I’ve been told she’s a “fashion icon.” She doesn’t get it from me!) Her understanding of the physical world is impressive, but still naïve enough to be adorable. Case in point: the other day she said, “Mom, please unbutton my dress. But don’t unbutton my belly button.”

So we’re halfway through the fearsome fours. I’ve heard five is better—is that when empathy arrives? Anyone have tips for dealing with this super-adorable, super-trying age?

B's had a big case of birthday fever, so I made her a cake for her half birthday this week.

Mia: our four-year-old in training.

Gardening With a 4-year-old: Dream vs. Reality

When we started house shopping last spring, I wasn’t looking for a gigantic yard—a.k.a. a large black hole for time, energy, and extra dollars. Been there, done that. But somehow, a big yard found us. Slowly but surely, the raised beds and mature trees began to cast a spell on me. It WAS sort of idyllic. If you squinted, it was almost lush (courtesy of moss and dandelions, but still). Before long, gardening dreams started to blossom.

I was especially excited about sharing the experience with my preschooler. She’ll learn about science! The miracle of life! She’ll collect colorful, wholesome farm-to-fork memories and delight her future children with tales of picking homegrown beans in the backyard. Perhaps she might even be persuaded to eat a bean or two (since she watched them grow and all).

Fast forward to this spring, when our planting-day experience went something like this:

Me: “OK, here are the rows, now let’s put the seeds in one by one…wait, not the entire packet…wait, which packet was that? WHICH one? Honey, don’t tear the packet, we need to save it. PLEASE, don’t get it wet! Wait, maybe I can still get them out, hold on.”

Her: “Look, mommy, I’m raking them!”

Me: “Time to go inside.”

And that was it. Now, to show for my trouble, I have a bunch of brave little seedlings growing in a mangled clump. If they make it, I might get to find out what they are.

Plus, she likes to pluck any blooms that open “to make food for the plants.” Nice sentiment, but the result is a barren garden with dead, wilting flowers dotting the dirt.

I still have gardening dreams. They’re just on hold until she’s 6 or 7.

The seedlings. I think they're carrots, but honestly, who really knows. And why is my garden filled with rocks?

At least I have lilacs to make me happy!

Eighteen months of Mia

Popcorn and pigtails--toddlerhood is fun!

Where have the last 18 months gone? Miss Mia is a year-and-a-half old today. And I’m counting my blessings—we’re tired, we’re busy, life with two kids is incredibly demanding, but we know we lucked out with this little one.

(OK, I hate it when people say “Not to brag,” and then proceed to do exactly that. So, full disclosure: bragging ahead. Turn away if you must.)

Most families I know with two kids get thrown for a loop by their wild and crazy secondborn. Our experience was flipped—we had the spirited kid first. Mia is her perfect counterpart: sweet, laid-back, and just enough of a spitfire to hold her own. She can entertain herself for hours—HOURS—with a stack of books and a few dolls. Her rendition of “twinkle twinkle little star” could melt the most stalwart soul. Her baby-chatter is enchanting, and we’re hearing more and more “real” words every day. Her latest: SHOE, BOOK, BIANCA, THAT, KITTY, and THANK YOU.

She loves me, but daddy is her knight in shining armor. Daddy could be miles away at work, and she’ll still wail dadddddyyyyy, dadddddyyyyy like a damsel in distress every time someone (me) doesn’t do her bidding.

The word strangers use to describe her is calm: she’s so calm! So content! (They might use different words if they caught a glimpse of her protesting her carseat or a diaper change, but whatevs.) Most of the time, she IS calm and content. She’s just a happy little turkey who loves the world she lives in. And the world loves her right back.

Mia, every day, I’m so grateful that I get to be your mom. You’ve made the last 18 months better than I could have imagined. I hope you never stop surprising me. As much as I’d like to keep you this age forever, I’m willing to let you grow up, only because I cannot WAIT to see what’s next. Love you with all my heart, Mom

STATS: Next to our stringbean Bianca, Mia looks like an adorable little butterball to me. But those chubby cheek and thighs don’t add up to much: she’s only 20.5 lbs. At least she’s finally out of the 3^rd percentile—she cracked the 5^th! Whoo hoo!

Can this wait, Mom? I'm working!

Mother's Day and the world's tiniest squatter

Sorry, News Tribune. This tube is taken.

This year, I’ll be sharing Mother’s Day with another mama who has recently taken up residence on our property. You might call her a squatter, although I think she’s far too cute for that title. She’s a teacup-sized bird who built a nest and laid itty-bitty eggs inside the newspaper tube not 12 inches from our front door.

I suppose we owe her presence to our extremely soggy spring weather—a couple of months ago, I stashed my soaked umbrella in the tube after a downpour. I guess the folds of fabric made the space cozier, because right away, a birdie couple got busy building a sweet little nest on top of the damp umbrella. They worked quickly, layering bits of branches, pine needles, and dryer lint. And I bought a new umbrella.

I’ve been watching this process unfold with interest and a healthy dose of skepticism. Why on earth would any sane mom choose to build her nest right next to our bustling front door that gets slammed 100 times a day (and right at 4 year old eye level, no less)? She might as well have picked Grand Central Station. I thought for sure she’d recognize her mistake and trade the tube for a quieter, more peaceful location, out of the reach of screeching toddlers and inquisitive little fingers.

But sure enough, she actually laid eggs and is roosting in there as I type. As most people know, I’m not really a bird person. At all. (Remember our woodpecker drama from earlier this spring?) Despite this, I can’t help but feel a kinship with this tiny mama who chose to build her nest so close to mine. I’d like to share some parenting wisdom (“You think sitting on eggs is tough? JUST WAIT!”) but I’ll settle for watching her little family from a safe distance. And maybe offering her some extra dryer lint.

She's so tiny and really hunkered down, making her almost impossible to see. And I don't want to shove a camera in her face. But I did my best to get a picture without freaking her out.

Happy Mother’s Day to mamas everywhere, big and small! We all deserve it.

The tooth fairy stops by

On Tuesday night, the tooth fairy made her maiden voyage to our place. A little sooner than anticipated, since B is only 4. The backstory: Bianca bumped her front teeth ages ago. It wasn't traumatic. No blood, stitches, or ER visits involved. But apparently it doesn't take much to kill a baby tooth...at her last dental checkup we learned that she has zero cavities, but her front tooth had died as a result of the impact and would PROBABLY have to go. It took months for that probably to change to a definitely, because they wanted to see if the tooth would heal on its own. (Both front upper front teeth were impacted, but one apparently healed itself, and the other didn't. Bizarre!)

So, Tuesday was the big day! I was torn over how to prepare her. I didn't want to freak her out. In the end, it was no big deal: it took all of 15 minutes. A little Motrin, some ice cream, and a visit from the tooth fairy, and she was good as new! And she was SUPER excited to show her friends at school--apparently losing a tooth early is quite the status symbol among the pre-K set. It makes them seem older and more sophisticated (like, you know, 6).

Before

After we got home. I know this face so well...the "I see the camera and I'm not going to smile, mom" face.

There it is! The "after" shot.

This is just a cute photo of her showing off her writing from yesterday. Sans tooth, but you can hardly tell.

It SHOULD be at least another year before the tooth fairy stops by again. Fingers crossed.

Our weekend: Easter eggs, trees, haircuts, and seeds

Busy, busy Easter weekend. Our house lost three massive trees out front (thanks to a professional tree service), Mia lost three inches of hair (thanks to yours truly), and we all gained countless chocolate eggs (thanks to the Easter Bunny. OK--also me). And, because the sun finally peeked through the clouds for an entire day, I got some gardening in.

We went to a huge (and crazy!) egg hunt on Saturday. Bianca with her new buddy, the Easter Bunny. Second only to Santa.

We wanted to get a pic of both girls with the Bunny. But Mia couldn't stop staring at him (she also tried to shove a cookie in his mouth). Luckily, the fake costume mouth prevented the cookie from going in.

Trying some candy--evidently displeased with it.

That's better! Mia was all smiles Sunday morning when she hunted eggs in our rec room. These two photos are a good before and after. I chopped her hair in back on Saturday night in a hasty "Oh my gosh tomorrow's Easter and we'll be taking photos" attempt at grooming. So now, instead of a wispy, feathery baby mullet, she has a cute bob (which got a little shorter than I intended, thanks to a wiggly subject). I won't be giving Vidal Sassoon a run for his money in the haircutting department any time soon. Still, it's pretty cute.

Being a big sister means you get the lion's share of the eggs.

A rare pic of the four of us during Easter dinner at Grandma's. Two girls in candy comas. We had to bribe them to sit still and fake these cheesy grins. I think we should ask for the candy back--we didn't even get smiles with teeth!

COMING SOON: FOOD. A few of my garden starts. One of our raised garden beds is visible outside the window in the background. If the sun would come back, maybe I could actually put it to use!

Soon, I'll post photos of our house sans trees! It's an amazing difference.