asleep

Last night I got to watch the kidlet fall asleep, like really, truly “one minute I’m awake, and the next I’m not anymore” fall asleep. As much as we want him to be able to fall asleep on his own, without one of us sitting in his room watching, these moments are precious and tender: his hands tucked under his chin, clutching the blanket, New-B, eyes fluttering and then not.

I watched his face loosen and calm as he settled into the folds of sleep. I watched as the hold on the blanket became not as fierce. I sat there, longer than I’d intended, watching.

It reminded me a bit of when he was first born, how we would watch him for hours, amazed and fascinated that he was ours, that he was real, that this bundle simply was at all, all of our tenderness summoned into a finger as we traced his ears, the swoop of his nose.

There are times, daily, when he pushes me to points of no return, points of frustration and irritation, when my exhaustion is highlighted and my patience as threadbare as an old quilt, though no less meaningful.

There was poetry in those moments last night when all was quiet save for the music that played. There was a delight of the moment when awake fluttered into asleep, and I dared not trace his ear, the swoop of his ear. So I whispered gently, “Love you, snugglebug. Sleep well,” and stole out of the room, my heart full.

kisses

"You can hug me all you want forever, Mama," he said, standing tall on the kitchen stool. "But I get to decide about the kisses."

He smiled at me because he knew he was getting away with something. I said, "Ok, that sounds like a deal." And then I hugged him because he let me, and because I'll never get enough of that feeling of him in my arms and how it brings back holding a not-even-eight-pound bundle.

But last night, as I peeked on him before bed, straightening his blankets and repositioning his snuggles, I kissed him, once, twice, three times. I smiled, thinking that I still get to decide about some of them, and when he's sleeping, I steal all the kisses I want from the top of his head.

Available for an afternoon respite:

One, non-napping, slightly sassy, incredibly adorable toddler. Prone to runny noses, but very durable when it comes to falls. Currently struggling with pneumonia, but not letting that get in the way of his trip-planning (must include tractors, fire trucks, trains, and garbage trucks), thomas-watching, dvd-player manipulating, chicken-eating ways. At this very moment, despite repeated attempts for resting, he's in the big blue chair behind me, "reading," with feeling and emphasis, green eggs and ham. Exhausted mama will pack bag before opening wine, she promises. 

Made me day

This morning, as I was getting dressed and particularly loathing my body, our dear sweet child patted my leg and simply said with delight, "You're so soft, Mommy!" And proceeded to pat me in admiration and love.

Sometimes others don't even realize the gift they give us.

Silly Me...

I thought we were sleeping through the night, since we had been for over a year.

This business of waking up at 2:00 of the morning and not falling back to sleep, and then not napping? For the birds, in case you were wondering.

Two Shoes

I sent him to school (daycare) today with two shoes on his feet. 

Two different shoes. Not even remotely similar. One blue blinky-blinky, the other brown and usually a "Sunday morning shoe." 

It's been a tough couple of weeks around This House with a Toddler. Messed up sleeping schedules, new bed, eating, napping, family in town. He slept through the night last night, well at least until 5:30 or so when he crawled into our bed and said, "Make room for me, Mama." 

So, when we had a tantrum about the diaper and the shirt and the pants and the location of the favorite blankie and whether or not he could play with "the temperature" (yes, but only with the protective covering otherwise it beeps incessantly, which wasn't acceptable), and then he sat in my lap and undid the velcro straps on his brown shoes, handed them to me and let me put them on him, all without fuss, I was thrilled.  

When he took one off and handed me the blinky-blinky shoe, giggling, I put it on him. He let me put his coat on without drama, too, so I packed up the matching pair of mismatched shoes in a bag for him to carry with The Favorite Blankie, and watched him march triumphantly to the car.  I think we both feel like we got away with something this morning, which is what it's all about sometimes. 

First

Just sealed the deal on my first cr@igslist purchase.

A bed for The Kidlet.

Which means we can reclaim our guest bed and have company again.

We've looked and looked and looked.

Because I'm cheap. And I don't like how a lot of things that are cheap look.

I'm also a little irrational about spending money which I get from my mother. It took her years to pick out a sofa, not to mention a new dining room table. I feel somewhat doomed as we now eat upon the dining room table that she replaced. There's a picture of me sleeping on top of the table next to a cake celebrating my baptism. Let it be known, though, that this table is not antique or heirloom worthy.

Maybe my next search will be for a table.

Regardless, there's a new bed being delivered tonight. It was cheap. And it looks good.

On the spot

I usually think of really great things to say, after the event is over.
Tonight I was thinkin' on the spot.

We headed to the Big Warehouse Membership Store of Choice tonight because we needed a few things. Tempermental Toddler was in rare form, but at every threat of tantrum we were able to head him off at the pass:
"oooo.... look over there!"
"you don't want cookies. that'd be silly."
"should I shnoogle* your elbow?"
"should I shnoogle your elbow, again?"

And then as we're heading out the door (and after he's eaten nearly the whole industrial-size polish sausage), he anticipates that the woman checking our receipt will draw a smiley face (instead of just a straight line) for him.
But she doesn't.
And he turns to me with those big blue eyes and says, "But where's my smiley face?"

To which I respond:
"She drew it sideways, buddy."
And away we went.

*Shnoogle: to snuzzle, snuggle, and zrbrt a child's elbow (or knee or nose or arm) while making the snuffling sounds.

Sweet Spots

Seeing the sunflowers that I so haphazardly planted actually growing.

Hearing my two-year old ask, as he crawls into our bed in the morning, "Is it breakfast time?"

The blossoms on my other scattered seeds.

Dinner with friends.

New babies in my life.

Feeling well enough to want coffee again.

Finishing a project.

Mailing a package.

Inscribing a book to a beloved child of God.

Showing the two-year old a watermelon at the store and having him ask, "Um, is it a plum?" And then he giggled.

Grilling.

A full house at worship yesterday.

Being done with VBS. Wah-hoo.

Lunch on the deck today.

Vacation, Celebration, Desperation

I started a post a few days ago that simply read: It's been so long.... I almost forgot my password.

It didn't post because an error message appeared indicating that the operating system had unexpectedly shut-down. This never happens. It started back up, but it spooked me. And, as I had been tired already, it didn't seem worth it to start all over again -- especially for such a pithy post.

We've taken a vacation and had some fun. Our son turned two. He now thinks that they'll sing happy birthday to him every time we go to a baseball game. My parents visited. People came over. I made an amazing train cake. I've now invested enough money in supplies that he'll have a train cake every year, ad nauseum. If he gets married, it might be the groom's cake.

I've been experiencing these pangs of something -- jealousy? sadness? loss? -- at not being at the Festival of Homiletics. This is definitely one of those to-do things on my list. Maybe next year, when it's in Minnesota (or so the rumors go....).

Much of Wednesday was spent on a ladder in the sanctuary, preparing for the weekend. A few desperate moments when we thought, is this really going to work. It did. It does. People who have already seen it are stunned. I get giddy every time I see walk past.

I've missed writing, these days (weeks?) that I've not. The weather has been warm and all I want to do is play in the dirt. I've done that, some, and it's at times like that when I dream of not doing what I do.

Things I'm doing

* Wishing I had more time in a day
* Wanting to do all of the improvements to the yard/house/garage today. OK, I'd settle for this summer/year, but that's not going to happen, either.
* Being amazed that the Kidlet is almost two. TWO.
* Looking forward to vacation. Even though the friend we'll see questioned our destination as being vacation-worthy. It has a zoo, we won't see our families, we'll have a hotel room, and it's not home. Sounds like vacation to me.
* Already not wanting to be at any of the evening obligations that I have this week.
* Recognizing (again) some of my neurotic tendencies about clothes, my body, shopping, money, food, relationships....
* Admiring how the animals in our own zoo are getting along these days.
* Trying to get caught up after a couple of weeks of the Kidlet being in and out of daycare. Nothing major, but a missed/shared day here and there puts us all more in maintenance mode than actually feeling caught up or proactive. Someday, right?
* Coming up with a vision for our lives beyond this place.
* Struggling with that overwhelmed feeling that can be oh-so-paralyzing.

He's my kid

I often joke that I was merely a stainless steel vessel, an incubator if you will, that had no real genetic involvement in the making of my child. He's looked nearly identical to my husband since birth. When people say, "I think he looks like you," I look at them as if they have two heads. I like to claim his nose (because I think it's cute and upturned), and that's about it. I also lay claim to his charming personality and when it shows, his sense of humor. A girl's gotta cling to something.

Tonight at dinner -- a real, live, out-to-eat at a restaurant dinner -- to celebrate a milestone occasion in my life that I didn't spend with my family, his meal came with dessert. Apple slices with caramel. Totally violating all double-dipping rules, the kid really could have gotten one apple slice and two small cups of caramel for all the apple that he ate. "Dipping," he proudly stated, holding an apple slice firmly between his fingers. "Dip-ping"

The crowning moment? When he picked up the caramel container, having determined that dipping was getting him nowhere fast, and tried to drink it.
"Sticky," he proclaimed all the way to the bathroom, charming everyone we saw. "No more sticky," he declared all the way back to the table.