Worldly

Dad: "Do you know what that is?"

Lily: "Coconut. Der's milk inside there."

Dad: "How do you know that?"

Lily: "Dat's just how it works."

Tired but not sleeping

Bedtimes have been particularly trying this week. You'll cry and whine during and after supper, so we throw you in the tub around 6:30, read stories at 7:00 and try and hope you'll be sleeping by 7:30.

No such luck. First, it's impossible to get your pajamas on. You have excuse after excuse. You want a bedtime snack - after you've already had one or turned one down. You have to pee. You just need a little tiny story in the dark. You need to turn on the light to pick at your toenails. You need to look out the window and see if it's morning. You need sompfin (something).

I finally got frustrated and said, "Why are you testing me?"

You said with a smile, "'Cuz, Mom. It's funny!"

Happy birthday to Lily, but only because she's sad that it's Mom's birthday and not hers

We had my birthday party yesterday, but tonight at supper you burst into tears. When I asked what was the matter, you said "It aien't my birtday." So we put candles in the leftover cake, sang happy birthday and you blew them out in one blow.

Here are some photos from the Mexican birthday extravaganza. Note the lovely tiaras that all the girls were wearing. We'd gone to the dollar store for party hats and those things you blow and the paper uncurls, but apparently people don't wear those party hats anymore so tiaras it was. Too bad you were the only one who wouldn't wear yours. And fortunately we have a few more months to plan your much anticipated party.

Little big girl

When you were born, you cried. But I held you and fed you and you were comforted. When we put you in the car seat, you cried. And I panicked with that motherly instinct that made me hysterical that I couldn't pick you up and comfort you. But we'd get to our destination, I'd take your car seat out of the car and you'd still cry. I'd put you in the shopping cart and you'd cry. I'd finally scoop you out of your apparent prison and you'd be comforted. (And if you weren't crying, you were shooting poop out your diaper every hour or so, but that's another story.) We'd go for walks in your stroller and you'd cry. I'd carry you in one arm and push the stroller home with the other. When you were tired and wanted to sleep, you'd howl. But I'd nurse you and you'd calm enough to sleep - for at least twenty minutes without waking to see if I was there.

But I got a little smarter as the months went on. I attached you to my body with a carrier or a body wrap and you were fine. But only with your mommy. And it was impossible to leave you with anyone else. Needless to say, it was always a challenge to get anything done or go anywhere, down the street or to the grocery store. So we rarely did. The stress could be overwhelming.

Fast forward to about a month ago. You are now the little girl who doesn't scream when she goes into her car seat. You are now the little girl who is perfectly content to ride in her wagon for up to an hour. You are now the little girl who will lay down and go to sleep when you are tired - without crying. You are even the little girl who rides in the cart at the grocery store.

Honestly, once I accepted your high-needs, high-intensity nature, I never expected it to change. Ever. But it's kind of nice having a little girl who's gotten some independence and taken it down a notch. And a lot less tiring.

Picture this...

A sick two-year-old clinging to her just as sick (if not sicker) mommy, sitting beside a nana who is getting transfused with four pints of blood. That was us this past weekend. While Nana spent some time in the hospital getting her colour back (after her blood volume dropped to about 40% of a normal person's), your health improved and mine completely deteriorated. Quite the group we were.

You were beside yourself that I separated myself from you for 23 seconds to take this picture.

Nana is looking and feeling good again, but she's got more tests and bone marrow and ureter biopsies to look forward to. With her hearing test today, an eye exam and iron IV treatment on Thursday plus a canceled cavity filling - as ordered by her doctor - her weeks are busy. Fortunately the babysitter's house is so much fun so Nana can babysit less.

Today is the first day I don't want to crawl under a rock. After chills and sweats and a cough that keeps me up all night, I'm only slightly miserable today. You, on the other hand, have only had a minor cough for the five days so there's been lots of energy to play. Surprisingly, you let me sleep in until 11 a.m. on Saturday, then napped with me for two and a half hours in the afternoon.

You've been taking it somewhat easy on me. When I was feeling my most rotten, you learned how to cross your eyes to make me laugh until I almost peed. How absolutely grotesque - and adorable in an inbred kind of way.

Sick. Again. Will it ever stop?

Ugggh. You are laid out, kid. Asleep right now. The second day in a row you were asleep by 5:20. I was hoping it was just a cold, but you cried and cried and cried last night that your ears hurt. Today you even wanted to go to the doctor - but again, once the medicine is actually here, it's worse than death. (It's not that bad. I tried it - and it's pink! Just for girls?)

Since Tuesday I've been feeling awful, in bed by 9:30 all week. Really grouchy at work, but maybe that's just normal.

It's been quite the year. Really sick three times. Too-sick-to-play kind of sick. And April has just begun. Hopefully you'll take your medicine, get better right away and be smiling again in no time. Real smiles, although these ones are kinda cute, too:

First day jitters

Today was your first day at Amy the babysitter's house. The first time we've left you with anyone we weren't related to. We've been giving you a play-by-play of how it would be for a couple weeks now. That we would take you there on Tuesdays and Thursdays while we went to work, that you could play with other kids, the dog named Ivy, go to the park, even help with the baby.

You seemed accepting of it.

This morning, you were a little apprehensive, maybe a little tired from waking at 5:44 a.m. Anyway, we got you ready - complete with a ponytail - and were there at 7:30 sharp. As soon as the door opened, we saw a little boy and a baby girl. You were sold. You gave me a few hugs, then were off to play with all the toys. Meanwhile, I was practically in tears. I told Amy a few things, then I said one last good-bye. You ran over to me, hugged me again, and went back to play. I was so relieved.

I called mid-morning to see how it was going. Good. No breakdowns or problems. Just doing some crafts. My heart lifted a little more.

But then your dad and I came home for lunch. To an empty house. It hasn't been like that since the day you were born. So that was kinda sad. At around 3:30, I could barely stand it anymore and convinced your dad to leave work at four so we could come and get you. We get there and you were so excited to show us how you were playing Duck Hunter with the little boy. Then I said, "Are you ready to come home with us now?" AND YOU SAID, "NO!" Oh my.

At least you were happy there. I'm so happy you were happy. We took you home anyway.

Just before we put on your coat to go to the babysitter for the first time ever.