who are these little people?

This morning Kiddo suggested that we write some poems. First we wrote one about a gnat, because she learned last night about the silent "g" from a Shel Silverstein poem.

Babs wanted us to write about her imaginary monsters as well, the pooty and the pomp.

The pomp is scary, and coming!

After helping them write about their subjects, I left them to draw the pictures while I went to get dressed.

"Babs, what does a pomp look like?" Kiddo asked. "Does he have a spiky head?"

"No, he has horns upon his head," Babs replied.

Why does my barely three year old know how to use 'upon' in a conversation? Why does my five year old know to write poetry in the morning? 

best friends

These two girls are best friends. They spend hours each day playing, laughing, and generally being together. They draw together, read together, play dolls together, and are usually happy to be around the other one. Very rarely can one get that involved in a game before the other is there, begging to join in.

But no best friends were meant to spend all day together, so I've recently learned that a little time apart is exactly what they need to stay friends. So while I nap each day, they have their alone time.

Don't get me wrong, there is fighting. They often don't quite agree on who should be "running" the game. It about drives Kiddo batty when Babs grabs her clothes and pulls at her ("time for a check-up!" the little one yells). And Babs can't resist the opportunity to steal that golden bear out of Kiddo's hands. And even though Babs insists on wearing pants even to church (she has "special church pants" she wears under her dress), while Kiddo is in a skirt every day, they both want to be the princess when they dance.

But as they play on the hill, running up and down, I can't help being so grateful they're both mine.

holding out til next friday

Next Friday is the summer solstice. That's the longest day of the year. After that, there is less sunlight each day (for the next six months any way). It means we will be heading toward, not away, from having to put my kids to bed at a time that is at least twilight, and no longer full light.

I know, I could live further north, it could still be full light much later than here. But I am still looking forward to the dark coming back.

some thoughts about babs

About two months I had surgery on some eyelid cysts. It was uncomfortable, and mentally tough. As I tried desperately to be calm and collected, I needed things to think about. I thought about my unborn child (who kicked a lot during the procedure), and I thought about this little girl right here.

Did you know her favorite color was pink? She wears this swim hat a lot, so her hair won't get cold. For about a week, her bike helmet served the same purpose. We have been potty training for three months now, and I'm trained, but I'm not sure how well she's doing. You can see that we live in an area with a lot of green. As all the dandelions of spring went to seed, we were often stopped in our trek to the car so she could get a "wish" which is what she called the flower. "Look mom! A wish!" she would call out.

She loves "honey buzz" cheerios, and eats bowls of it every day (to make up for everything else that she won't eat, with the exclamation "I hate that!"). She pushes her sister around, both physically and verbally, but barely speaks to any one outside of the family. She ripped half the pages out of her coloring book the other day, setting them aside "for grandpa." (There is also a half-eaten bowl of goldfish for him when he comes to collect.) She loves to color, and play with Kiddo's Snow White, Prince, and Queen figure. We've been talking about letters this week. I've been trying to teach her "I." Four days later, she still can't come up with the name.

She sometimes is polite, and sometimes not. For example, she just ordered me to turn up the music, "Louder." "Louder, please," I responded somewhat automatically. "LOUDER!" she yelled. (I think she thinks she was doing just what I asked, because she always wants me to say things louder, just for the joy of it.)

She wore a bandaid on her finger for a week, crying like a banshee each time it was taken off, enough to make me wonder if the hurt was actually more serious than I thought. Last night my husband made her an enormous splint, and put it on loosely enough that it would fall off while she slept (or actually that we could easily remove). This morning she is convinced that the bandaid miraculously healed her finger while she slept.

I am organizing a mother's preschool for her this fall, along with three or four other little kids her age. I really wanted to send her off to a professional preschool, but it wasn't the right choice for her. I cannot think of an organized class that she has not dropped out of, by sheer persistence of non-participation/non-attendance. She has dropped out of nursery (our church program for kids her age) because she just won't attend. Not even with me, or my husband, or grandma... Then they asked my husband to teach the kids who turn four this year, and told us Babs could attend with him. She really won't do that either. I keep trying to figure out how we're going to watch two kids while my husband shepherds eight tiny kids, and I play the piano. As for swimming class... well, she awkwardly stopped attending that class as well. She just wouldn't go into the pool area, and I was pretty sure that no one, especially the teacher with four other equally small people to watch in a pool, wanted me to leave her there screaming. She would drop out of church, but my husband and I just won't.

And yet she is truly funny. And creative. And loving, when she wants to be. And helpful, when the mood suits her. And when she's happy, she's very, very happy. Perhaps I need to rewrite the poem: "There was a little girl, who had a little curl,..." because there is no curl in her hair, but the rest fits her just fine.

experiencing vs. watching

Last year for Mother's Day I asked for a pair of rain boots. How was I supposed to enjoy rain puddles with my kids without rain boots? And I got them. In the last year I've taken my girls out in the rain exactly twice.

Today was time 2. It's been raining solidly all day. And I've been grouchy with my kids all day. I hoped taking them outside would get me out of my funk (then I could feel like a good mom). But, I don't have a rain jacket, so I had to be mentally prepared to get really, really wet.

I did, and they did too. We live on a hill, so there is a solid stream down the street all the way to the bottom. We walked it three times. They loved it. The last time, they walked back up in their feet, without rain jackets or umbrellas. But with complete joy on their faces.

I convinced them to come in with promises of a blanket and the TV. (So there they are, wrapped in a blanket, mostly without clothes.)

Because I was also out in the rain, I didn't take a picture. I wanted to be there, not worried about the camera getting wet or dropped. But will I remember the look on Babs' face, soaked from head to toe, with her stringy wet hair, as she smiled at me, sharing the fun of the puddle in her feet? Will I remember Kiddo's laugh of surprise when I jumped right next to her, and splashed her from head to toe? (I'm not that mom. But I tried it out today.) But would a picture help me remember it any better? I have no idea. But I know that I was there with them today, and that's important to me.

we do exist

During Kiddo's picture phase she took this beauty of my husband and I. So, I'm pregnant. This was his sick day this week. So there we are, looking tired. But we are here. (Kiddo explains that she thought she should take a picture of us because we love each other. Don't we look it? And yet, we do. We really do.)