Yesterday, we had a topsy-turvy day of Christmas shopping. My friend Angie thought she could get a lot more shopping done without her little guy (one-year-old) along for the ride. I don't know why she thought that...don't we all get so much more accomplished with toddlers in tow? We worked out a trade-off. She shopped in the morning while I watched her son, then we met up for lunch, then she took Abigail for me in the afternoon so I could shop alone. Before Abigail went home with Angie, though, she and I had an errand to run.
My friend Alison is getting married in September, and Abigail gets to be flower girl. She's gonna be great at this before she even starts school. Alison had set aside a flower girl dress at the bridal store for Abigail to try on. After lunch, she and I went down to the store, and well, this dress is really beautiful. It is a nice lavender color and has lace and is floor-length. Abigail's eyes just got so wide as she saw herself in it, and she twirled and twirled and twirled. The lady at the shop kept saying she needed to look at the seam inside to see how it could be altered. Then Abigail would say, "Just one more dance." And she would twirl and twirl and twirl some more.
Then, OH THEN, her little eyes did spy on the shelf by the mirror the most perfect little shoes. They were little girls shoes, although probably were about two sizes too big for her feet. They were open toe and were kind of like a clear jelly shoe with glitter, but "dressier." To Abigail, they WERE Cinderella's glass slippers. She tried them on, despite me telling her that they were for bigger girls. To her, they fit just fine, and went perfectly with the dress. Oh, and her purple socks she was wearing went perfectly with them. :)
Honestly, I don't know if being a lover of all things princess-y is a matter or nature or nurture. I'm sure we have done enough of "Ohhhh, you look like such a princess" to her that she has been nurtured quite well into this girly fantasy-land. But you know what? She has only seen, to my knowledge, Enchanted. We don't own any Disney princess movies. Paul has looked up some of their songs on Youtube..."Once Upon a Dream"? Anyone? My favorite! So she has seen some of the clips from the movies. This love for princesses, though, I guess has just come from learning their faces on the millions of products on the market. One of my favorite games to play when we go to Walmart is "What is the craziest item you can find with either Disney Princesses or Hannah Montana on it?" To which my current answer is a Hannah Montana fishing pole. Yes, a real, live fishing pole, made for catching fish. So girls and Daddy's can go on fishing trips together and have the best of both worlds. Pun intended.
There is no two ways around it, though. The girl is a princess-loving wanna-be. She is about as girly as they come, and she is guaranteed to want to play either Princesses, Wedding, or Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz at any given moment.
When we were leaving the bridal shop, the lady working there asked Abigail if she had written Santa a letter or talked to him. Abigail said she had talked to him. And the conversation went about like this:
Me: Tell her what you asked Santa to bring you.
Abigail: A belt.
Lady: Ohhhhhhhh. A belt.
Me: A pink sparkly belt.
Abigail: (emphatically) NO, a BLACK sparkly one.
Me: (knowing that Santa already dropped a pink sparkly belt in the top of Daddy's closet) No, you asked Santa for a PINK sparkly belt.
Abigail: No, I didn't. I wanted the black one.
So, we go out to the car and I'm strapping her in her seat.
Me: I'm pretty sure you asked Santa to bring you a pink sparkly belt. So what if he brings you a pink one since that is what you asked for? Would that be okay?
Abigail: No, I just want the black one.
Me: But the pink one is so pretty and goes with more of your outfits.
Abigail: No thanks. I just want the black one.
Okay, so I don't think that she was going overboard to tell Santa she wanted a belt that costs 7.50 from the Children's Place. It is a pretty modest gift. But now I have some quick communicating to do with Santa, and see if we can exchange the pink one for a black one. She will either be thinking Santa wasn't a very good listener, or we may be in for a melt-down on Christmas morning.
Of course, I'm pretty excited that she'll see this on Christmas morning (which we got for the low price of 20 bucks) and probably not really care all that much about the belt.
For those keeping score from my previous post about four gifts for Christmas, she is getting:
One thing you can wear (a velour jogging suit...4 bucks!)
One thing you can read (a book Paul bought for her)
One thing that you want (baby doll stuff)
One for those in need (two shoeboxes of gifts for two kids in our community. One of the girls is her age, so she will help pick out the gifts for the little girl)
And, the belt from Santa. Hopefully black and sparkly just like she (claims she) asked for.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Two Months Later
Okay, so in the midst of all of the holiday goodness and cheer, I have to be a downer for about five minutes. Then I will go back to "ho-ho-ho-ing".
It has been almost two months since my miscarriage. I think, honestly, that I am doing pretty well. I really don't even think about it very much. I had those first few weeks of a lot of thinking, crying, healing, but now I feel like I am ready to move forward.
A few years ago, I was reading the blog of a girl named Kelly who works for Campus Crusade. Her husband had died of a brain tumor. She was left, in her early 30s, to raise two very young boys as a widow. One of her blogs stood out to me for something she said, several months after her husband's death. She said that people ask her sometimes when she will feel ready to move on. And she says that she will never move on. Never. That there may be a day when she feels ready to move forward, but that is different than moving on. Moving on assumes that you put that part of your life behind you, like you tied it up with a neat little ribbon and put it on the shelf. Moving forward means more that you will not forget who you were then, what you experienced, what God taught you. You move forward in what you have learned and how you changed because of it.
Now, trust me, I am NOT comparing my miscarriage to this sweet lady's husband dying. I don't think it is nearly the same in any respect. But I do think that anyone who has lost something special to them, someone they loved, even if just for a short time, can understand moving forward as a changed person.
That being said, I do feel like I am doing my best to be happy for other pregnant people. Because I am happy for them and the life inside of them. I think I just feel little twinges of jealousy that I didn't get to have that. There is a girl I see on a weekly basis at a business meeting I go to. She and I were due one day apart. One day. When she announced to everyone at our meeting that she was six weeks pregnant, with such joy, I thought in my head, Man, I'm six weeks pregnant. I wish I could say it, too. But we were still holding out on telling people after having my previous miscarriage.
For four weeks, I saw her at our meeting, knowing that I had a baby that was growing right along side of hers, time-wise, and it was "our secret." Then, she was gone sick the week that we announced that I was pregnant. She missed our news. I don't know if she ever heard the news, because four days later I began to miscarry.
So now I see her every week. Every Monday, I see her show up in a cute new maternity top with a belly that is slightly bigger than it was the week before. Somehow I feel that someone must have told her I had been pregnant and then miscarried, because she is very "gentle" with talking about pregnancy around me. Maybe it is how I interpret it, but I think that she only talks about it with me if I bring it up...how she's feeling, her doctor appointments, etc. I always wonder if she knows, or if she finds it strange that I never have to ask her how many weeks she is. I know that this is week 19. I know that you usually get your ultrasound around 20 weeks to find out the sex of the baby. I would have been 20 weeks on my 30th birthday, and I had thought what a neat birthday gift it would have been to find out the sex of my baby for my birthday.
I don't have to ask her how far along she is, because the weeks are still marked in my calendar. I can look at any given Monday and know exactly where my friend is in her journey. I am excited for her and how happy she is. Really, I am. But there is a part of me that just holds back. I really do want to be able to gush over her cute new top or her belly popping out...I want to have that excitement for her. And there is nothing about that baby in her that I am jealous of or mad about. I just wish I had the same.
I was not planning at this point to still be in the "trying" mode. I was expecting to be half-way through. I can fully accept that this was the way it was supposed to happen, and I really do think that it is okay. My babies are with Jesus, and I can say that with a shrug of "I don't understand, but it's okay"...not with the tears I used to say it with. Paul and I are moving forward. I am ready to be pregnant whenever God allows it to happen. I don't feel any need to wait. And I surely don't mean to seem like big sour grapes toward anyone else experiencing the joy of pregnancy. I guess that is just where I am...most Monday nights as I see her walk in the room, most Tuesday mornings as I think "I wish I could just let it go."
It has been almost two months since my miscarriage. I think, honestly, that I am doing pretty well. I really don't even think about it very much. I had those first few weeks of a lot of thinking, crying, healing, but now I feel like I am ready to move forward.
A few years ago, I was reading the blog of a girl named Kelly who works for Campus Crusade. Her husband had died of a brain tumor. She was left, in her early 30s, to raise two very young boys as a widow. One of her blogs stood out to me for something she said, several months after her husband's death. She said that people ask her sometimes when she will feel ready to move on. And she says that she will never move on. Never. That there may be a day when she feels ready to move forward, but that is different than moving on. Moving on assumes that you put that part of your life behind you, like you tied it up with a neat little ribbon and put it on the shelf. Moving forward means more that you will not forget who you were then, what you experienced, what God taught you. You move forward in what you have learned and how you changed because of it.
Now, trust me, I am NOT comparing my miscarriage to this sweet lady's husband dying. I don't think it is nearly the same in any respect. But I do think that anyone who has lost something special to them, someone they loved, even if just for a short time, can understand moving forward as a changed person.
That being said, I do feel like I am doing my best to be happy for other pregnant people. Because I am happy for them and the life inside of them. I think I just feel little twinges of jealousy that I didn't get to have that. There is a girl I see on a weekly basis at a business meeting I go to. She and I were due one day apart. One day. When she announced to everyone at our meeting that she was six weeks pregnant, with such joy, I thought in my head, Man, I'm six weeks pregnant. I wish I could say it, too. But we were still holding out on telling people after having my previous miscarriage.
For four weeks, I saw her at our meeting, knowing that I had a baby that was growing right along side of hers, time-wise, and it was "our secret." Then, she was gone sick the week that we announced that I was pregnant. She missed our news. I don't know if she ever heard the news, because four days later I began to miscarry.
So now I see her every week. Every Monday, I see her show up in a cute new maternity top with a belly that is slightly bigger than it was the week before. Somehow I feel that someone must have told her I had been pregnant and then miscarried, because she is very "gentle" with talking about pregnancy around me. Maybe it is how I interpret it, but I think that she only talks about it with me if I bring it up...how she's feeling, her doctor appointments, etc. I always wonder if she knows, or if she finds it strange that I never have to ask her how many weeks she is. I know that this is week 19. I know that you usually get your ultrasound around 20 weeks to find out the sex of the baby. I would have been 20 weeks on my 30th birthday, and I had thought what a neat birthday gift it would have been to find out the sex of my baby for my birthday.
I don't have to ask her how far along she is, because the weeks are still marked in my calendar. I can look at any given Monday and know exactly where my friend is in her journey. I am excited for her and how happy she is. Really, I am. But there is a part of me that just holds back. I really do want to be able to gush over her cute new top or her belly popping out...I want to have that excitement for her. And there is nothing about that baby in her that I am jealous of or mad about. I just wish I had the same.
I was not planning at this point to still be in the "trying" mode. I was expecting to be half-way through. I can fully accept that this was the way it was supposed to happen, and I really do think that it is okay. My babies are with Jesus, and I can say that with a shrug of "I don't understand, but it's okay"...not with the tears I used to say it with. Paul and I are moving forward. I am ready to be pregnant whenever God allows it to happen. I don't feel any need to wait. And I surely don't mean to seem like big sour grapes toward anyone else experiencing the joy of pregnancy. I guess that is just where I am...most Monday nights as I see her walk in the room, most Tuesday mornings as I think "I wish I could just let it go."
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Something to Look Forward To
December always seems like the pinnacle of a year to me. I know calendar-wise, it is. It's the culmination of everything that happened that year. I'm glad that the year ends with Christmas and New Year's Eve. It feels like at the end of any year, good or bad, there should be lots of celebrating. This week is bound to be a busy one for me for several reasons....I say as the week is already in it's latter parts. My friend Angie and I painted my living room yesterday, I've facilitated two Bible studies (filling in for my poor friend Luellen with pneumonia...BOOO), and I'm just starting a three night string of Christmas parties. I love how everyone thinks December is such a busy month, so they decide to front-load it and put all of the Christmas parties during the first week. All that gives you is one really busy week.
Anyway, I thought I would list the things that I am looking forward to this month. For some reason, a list makes me think that I am organized. And a list of things to be excited about is a pretty fun list to make!
1. Christmas cards. We have yet to do the cute picture cards that I love to receive and plaster all over my refrigerator. I do the "Year in Review" card and include a few pictures on it. I love looking back over the year and making it into a concise 1-2 page letter. Just to let you know, I'm not big on Christmas cards that you just sign your name to. If you are going to pay postage to send them all out, include a picture or a letter. Go big or go home.
2. Christmas parties. Yes, I am looking forward to the next three nights, though they will be busy. I like the eating of the food and the exchanging of the gifts. I like that around here, people actually spend 5-10 bucks on a gift, and don't do the "White Elephant" tradition of finding something musty and old from your attic or your basement and re-gifting. Yes, it makes for some good laughs, but you know it just ends up in the trash when the person gets home. Parties are festive and fun, and I enjoy them thoroughly.
3. My birthday. I may have mentioned it one or 43 times, but I am turning 30 on the 15th. It's kind of a big deal to me, and I'm actually looking forward to it. Yes, sad to wave the 20s good-bye, but it's no big deal. Man, a lot happened in my 20s. I wonder if my 30s will be quite so eventful....finishing college, getting engaged, getting married, moving three times, having a baby, getting a cat. Pretty special stuff. Especially the cat. (Hey, she's a good cat!)
4. Abigail's birthday. She'll be the big 3. She's been talking about it since she turned the big 2. I guess turning 2 was uneventful for her, because everything all year has been "When I'm 3, I'll ______________." And it's anything from "boinging big on the couch" to "going down, down, down in the swimming pool" to "sleeping in a big girl bed." Sounds pretty exciting to me. We plan to take her to Indianapolis to see the Polar Express in 3-D at the Imax theater. When you ask her what she wants for her birthday, she says "to see the Polar Express on the big movie screen." And she shall have it.
5. Cookie-baking with my girls. My college girlfriends are getting together to bake cookies. It will be fun. There will be laughter. There may be crying. There will be cookie dough.
6. Celebrating my birthday with Paul. We are still ironing out the plans, but we are going on a getaway. It will be wonderful because Paul is wonderful and he is really, really good at birthdays.
7. Christmas Eve with my family. Yes, Christmas with my family is a big deal, too, but Christmas Eve is bigger. We eat every wonderful food known to man. Things with shrimp or crab. And there is always lots and lots of cheese. There is no such thing as too much cheese, especially during the holidays.
8. New Year's Eve. We have celebrated New Year's Eve with our Campus Crusade friends every year for the past, well, probably 10. We go to Karen and Trevor's house and we have food and Bible study and stay up late. It is so fun and my favorite way to bring the year to a close.
I'm sure there is more. You know sometimes it is just the little things in December...telling your child it is snowing outside and seeing her excitement as she runs to the window, watching Elf or Muppet Christmas Carol or The Christmas Story and drinking hot chocolate, bopping around the store as "Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland" plays overhead, pointing out the Christmas lights you see everywhere you go. I love it. In spite of the busy-ness of it all. In spite of the way you just want to crash and hibernate in January. I love it all.
Anyway, I thought I would list the things that I am looking forward to this month. For some reason, a list makes me think that I am organized. And a list of things to be excited about is a pretty fun list to make!
1. Christmas cards. We have yet to do the cute picture cards that I love to receive and plaster all over my refrigerator. I do the "Year in Review" card and include a few pictures on it. I love looking back over the year and making it into a concise 1-2 page letter. Just to let you know, I'm not big on Christmas cards that you just sign your name to. If you are going to pay postage to send them all out, include a picture or a letter. Go big or go home.
2. Christmas parties. Yes, I am looking forward to the next three nights, though they will be busy. I like the eating of the food and the exchanging of the gifts. I like that around here, people actually spend 5-10 bucks on a gift, and don't do the "White Elephant" tradition of finding something musty and old from your attic or your basement and re-gifting. Yes, it makes for some good laughs, but you know it just ends up in the trash when the person gets home. Parties are festive and fun, and I enjoy them thoroughly.
3. My birthday. I may have mentioned it one or 43 times, but I am turning 30 on the 15th. It's kind of a big deal to me, and I'm actually looking forward to it. Yes, sad to wave the 20s good-bye, but it's no big deal. Man, a lot happened in my 20s. I wonder if my 30s will be quite so eventful....finishing college, getting engaged, getting married, moving three times, having a baby, getting a cat. Pretty special stuff. Especially the cat. (Hey, she's a good cat!)
4. Abigail's birthday. She'll be the big 3. She's been talking about it since she turned the big 2. I guess turning 2 was uneventful for her, because everything all year has been "When I'm 3, I'll ______________." And it's anything from "boinging big on the couch" to "going down, down, down in the swimming pool" to "sleeping in a big girl bed." Sounds pretty exciting to me. We plan to take her to Indianapolis to see the Polar Express in 3-D at the Imax theater. When you ask her what she wants for her birthday, she says "to see the Polar Express on the big movie screen." And she shall have it.
5. Cookie-baking with my girls. My college girlfriends are getting together to bake cookies. It will be fun. There will be laughter. There may be crying. There will be cookie dough.
6. Celebrating my birthday with Paul. We are still ironing out the plans, but we are going on a getaway. It will be wonderful because Paul is wonderful and he is really, really good at birthdays.
7. Christmas Eve with my family. Yes, Christmas with my family is a big deal, too, but Christmas Eve is bigger. We eat every wonderful food known to man. Things with shrimp or crab. And there is always lots and lots of cheese. There is no such thing as too much cheese, especially during the holidays.
8. New Year's Eve. We have celebrated New Year's Eve with our Campus Crusade friends every year for the past, well, probably 10. We go to Karen and Trevor's house and we have food and Bible study and stay up late. It is so fun and my favorite way to bring the year to a close.
I'm sure there is more. You know sometimes it is just the little things in December...telling your child it is snowing outside and seeing her excitement as she runs to the window, watching Elf or Muppet Christmas Carol or The Christmas Story and drinking hot chocolate, bopping around the store as "Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland" plays overhead, pointing out the Christmas lights you see everywhere you go. I love it. In spite of the busy-ness of it all. In spite of the way you just want to crash and hibernate in January. I love it all.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
It Sounded Real
As I sit here on the computer, checking email, Facebook, and such, Abigail is playing so nicely in her room. I can hear her chatting away with her babies, playing out scenes in her doll house, and having a generally all-around good time.
The crazy thing is, she has gotten really good at realistic-sounding play phone conversations. She was using one of her several toy phones to have a talk with someone. Breaking my concentration on email-reading, I could hear her saying, "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. (pause) (pause) No, I don't think so. (Pause) Uh-huh. Yes. (pause) Okay, I'll see you later. Buh-bye."
It sounded so real, I had to stop and think for a minute who she was talking to. She has taken the dramatic pause to a level that says she has overheard many phone conversations. From the sound of it, maybe I am a better listener than I thought I was.
The crazy thing is, she has gotten really good at realistic-sounding play phone conversations. She was using one of her several toy phones to have a talk with someone. Breaking my concentration on email-reading, I could hear her saying, "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. (pause) (pause) No, I don't think so. (Pause) Uh-huh. Yes. (pause) Okay, I'll see you later. Buh-bye."
It sounded so real, I had to stop and think for a minute who she was talking to. She has taken the dramatic pause to a level that says she has overheard many phone conversations. From the sound of it, maybe I am a better listener than I thought I was.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Oh, Man
Is it just me, or is it possible to watch this video without getting tears in your eyes? Maybe it's just me.
Maybe it is the words to the song. Maybe it is Lauryn Hill in the choir, who will always be one of my greatest musical loves. Maybe it is the high note of confidence at the end. Maybe it is Kathy Najimy in a nun's habit. Man, I love this movie.
Maybe it is the words to the song. Maybe it is Lauryn Hill in the choir, who will always be one of my greatest musical loves. Maybe it is the high note of confidence at the end. Maybe it is Kathy Najimy in a nun's habit. Man, I love this movie.
Two Loves
Last year for Christmas, Abigail got her first real baby doll. She was a Cabbage Patch newborn, so she was the perfect size for Abigail's toddler arms. Plus, she smelled strongly, perfectly, of baby powder. The scent has faded over the last year, but it is still there when you hold her closely and inhale deeply. Her name is Baby Haley. She always is both names, not just "Haley."
My parents got her for Abigail, or maybe it was Santa. I know who picked her out very carefully, but I don't remember whose name was on the tag. They spent the night at our house Christmas Eve, and we all got the joy of seeing Abigail get up Christmas morning. It was probably the first time she really started to "get" Christmas morning. She and Memaw had made cookies with sprinkles for Santa the night before. When Paul carried her out of her room, she looked down by the tree and saw a perfect little baby asleep in a little wooden cradle. She yelled "A BABY DOLL!" and literally would have jumped straight out of Paul's arms if he had not set her wriggly body down. She loved her immediately, as any good mother does, from the first time she laid eyes on her.
Baby Haley has slept with Abigail every night since December 25, 2007, with the exception of a couple of nights she was accidentally left behind at Memaw and Papa's house. Abigail is faithful to give her bottles and change her diaper when we can find it. Baby Haley has been a wonderful first baby doll to Abigail. Abigail has been a wonderful mommy to Baby Haley.
Until Thanksgiving, 2008, that is.
My mom suggested that I go down to the basement at their house and pull out the boxes labeled "Amy's stuffed animals." We didn't save every toy from my childhood, but we did save two boxes worth of dolls and stuffed animals. Oh, and all the Strawberry Shortcake dolls which mom had already sent home with Abigail this summer. Mom was remembering a Pound Puppy I had named Wrinkles....we thought anyway....Wrinkles ended up being a different dog than our memories served. So I went down to search for Wrinkles.
I pulled out many forgotten little creatures from my childhood days. They were there, in some of the deepest corners of my mind. I remember my little dog, Nipper, that was given to me the night before I had my tonsels removed in first grade. He stayed by my side through the whole surgery. I remember a Little Red Riding Hood doll, who was just plain awesome. One end of her was Little Red. When you flipped her over and pulled the dress over her head, the other end of her bore the face of the grandmother on one side and the Big Bad Wolf on the other. I remembered Wrinkles, the big gray puppet dog and the brown Pound Puppy who we thought was named Wrinkles.
There were four Cabbage Patch Kids. Sasha, who was my first with brown pig tails. Terri Noel, who was a newborn with a tuft of blond yarn hair, but a much bigger newborn than Abigail's Baby Haley. And another girl with brown pig tails who I don't remember at all. And there was my brother's, named Terrence, who we loved to tease him about. A lot of boys had Cabbage Patch Kids back in their hay day, though, right? We decided to wash them all, as I was pretty sure at some point in the last 20 years of storage, a mouse or six might have taken up a little residence down there in the basement with them. I figured if they fall apart, well, they are over 20 years old, and I can still have my fuzzy memories. If they don't fall apart, Abigail can have several new babies to play house with.
I introduced Abigail to Baby Terri Noel, who looks like a bigger, blonder version of Baby Haley. She took to her immediately. She brought her home and has slept with her the last two nights. Yesterday morning, she handed Baby Haley off to me, saying I could take care of her. Gasp! Was she really going to toss Baby Haley aside so quickly now that a new baby had worked her way into Abigail's arms?
Yes. I think she was.
I told her that she could love both babies, and that Baby Haley would still need hugs and kisses and loves. Paul explained to her that when a mommy gets a new baby in her house, she doesn't stop loving the first one. She can love them both. Abigail held out her arm with a sigh, as if to say, "Ugh, fine. Give her here." I guess within the first few days of a new baby in the home, one has to take priority in her mind. Later in the day, I said, "It's okay. I guess I'll just take care of Baby Haley and give her hugs and loves and kisses since you won't."
To this, Abigail screamed "NO!" and grabbed Baby Haley away from me. "I'll take care of her."
And she has. Today, she played nicely with both babies. She hugged them both, kissed them both, loved them both. Maybe this will work. Maybe I shoudln't be so sensitive over which doll she plays with. But there is something special about your first doll, right? I just didn't want to see her replaced to quickly. A mom CAN love two babies, right?
My parents got her for Abigail, or maybe it was Santa. I know who picked her out very carefully, but I don't remember whose name was on the tag. They spent the night at our house Christmas Eve, and we all got the joy of seeing Abigail get up Christmas morning. It was probably the first time she really started to "get" Christmas morning. She and Memaw had made cookies with sprinkles for Santa the night before. When Paul carried her out of her room, she looked down by the tree and saw a perfect little baby asleep in a little wooden cradle. She yelled "A BABY DOLL!" and literally would have jumped straight out of Paul's arms if he had not set her wriggly body down. She loved her immediately, as any good mother does, from the first time she laid eyes on her.
Baby Haley has slept with Abigail every night since December 25, 2007, with the exception of a couple of nights she was accidentally left behind at Memaw and Papa's house. Abigail is faithful to give her bottles and change her diaper when we can find it. Baby Haley has been a wonderful first baby doll to Abigail. Abigail has been a wonderful mommy to Baby Haley.
Until Thanksgiving, 2008, that is.
My mom suggested that I go down to the basement at their house and pull out the boxes labeled "Amy's stuffed animals." We didn't save every toy from my childhood, but we did save two boxes worth of dolls and stuffed animals. Oh, and all the Strawberry Shortcake dolls which mom had already sent home with Abigail this summer. Mom was remembering a Pound Puppy I had named Wrinkles....we thought anyway....Wrinkles ended up being a different dog than our memories served. So I went down to search for Wrinkles.
I pulled out many forgotten little creatures from my childhood days. They were there, in some of the deepest corners of my mind. I remember my little dog, Nipper, that was given to me the night before I had my tonsels removed in first grade. He stayed by my side through the whole surgery. I remember a Little Red Riding Hood doll, who was just plain awesome. One end of her was Little Red. When you flipped her over and pulled the dress over her head, the other end of her bore the face of the grandmother on one side and the Big Bad Wolf on the other. I remembered Wrinkles, the big gray puppet dog and the brown Pound Puppy who we thought was named Wrinkles.
There were four Cabbage Patch Kids. Sasha, who was my first with brown pig tails. Terri Noel, who was a newborn with a tuft of blond yarn hair, but a much bigger newborn than Abigail's Baby Haley. And another girl with brown pig tails who I don't remember at all. And there was my brother's, named Terrence, who we loved to tease him about. A lot of boys had Cabbage Patch Kids back in their hay day, though, right? We decided to wash them all, as I was pretty sure at some point in the last 20 years of storage, a mouse or six might have taken up a little residence down there in the basement with them. I figured if they fall apart, well, they are over 20 years old, and I can still have my fuzzy memories. If they don't fall apart, Abigail can have several new babies to play house with.
I introduced Abigail to Baby Terri Noel, who looks like a bigger, blonder version of Baby Haley. She took to her immediately. She brought her home and has slept with her the last two nights. Yesterday morning, she handed Baby Haley off to me, saying I could take care of her. Gasp! Was she really going to toss Baby Haley aside so quickly now that a new baby had worked her way into Abigail's arms?
Yes. I think she was.
I told her that she could love both babies, and that Baby Haley would still need hugs and kisses and loves. Paul explained to her that when a mommy gets a new baby in her house, she doesn't stop loving the first one. She can love them both. Abigail held out her arm with a sigh, as if to say, "Ugh, fine. Give her here." I guess within the first few days of a new baby in the home, one has to take priority in her mind. Later in the day, I said, "It's okay. I guess I'll just take care of Baby Haley and give her hugs and loves and kisses since you won't."
To this, Abigail screamed "NO!" and grabbed Baby Haley away from me. "I'll take care of her."
And she has. Today, she played nicely with both babies. She hugged them both, kissed them both, loved them both. Maybe this will work. Maybe I shoudln't be so sensitive over which doll she plays with. But there is something special about your first doll, right? I just didn't want to see her replaced to quickly. A mom CAN love two babies, right?
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
My Mom's Idea
Do you ever have those moments as a mother when you realize your mom really did know what she was doing? I have always loved that my mom stayed home with us growing up and have aspired to be such a mommy to Abigail. But my mom had an idea she should have patented twenty-five years ago. Because I'm pretty sure she thought it up first. I was there, I would know.
When I was nursery school, Mom tells me, I had grown quite the little Miss Independent attitude. I wanted to choose my own clothes, whether they were weather-appropriate or not. I wanted to eat only certain foods, probably cheesy hot dogs or something. Basically, I was like any other five-year-old headstrong kid. My mom said she always felt exhausted at the end of the day, like all she had done was scold and discipline me and Jason, my older brother. Then she would peek in on us while we were sleeping, and realize what little angels we truly were. In our sleep only, of course.
So, in her desperation to enjoy her kids and not scold them all the time....I totally understand this feeling with Abigail....she came up with an idea.
And Tiny the Elf was born.
Tiny the Elf is one of Santa's little helpers. But unlike Santa, we get to hear from Tiny ALL December and not just on Christmas day. Tiny was talked up a lot at our house, but we never saw him. We knew he was watching us, though, and reporting back to Santa whether we were making good choices or bad choices. It wasn't just his report to Santa that straightened us up, though. It was the notes he left us all month. I would wake up in the morning to a note on my bedside table. Or I would go out to breakfast to find a note next to my cereal bowl. Or there would be a note on top of my shoes. The notes from Tiny were always positive and pointing out all of the good choices he had seen me make.
If I helped my mom pick out a pretty Christmas dress at the store and was a good shopping buddy, Tiny heard. If I ate my green beans at dinner, Tiny noticed. If I chose to wear jeans and a sweater to nursery school on that cold December day instead of my swimsuit, Tiny saw. If I went to bed without arguing, Tiny complimented me. They were simple little notes, usually hand-written on a note card.....I didn't recognize the hand-writing yet. And I LOVED knowing that Tiny noticed all of the good things I was choosing to do. I loved it so much, I kept all of his notes to me in a scrapbook to this day.
See? My mom was a genius. IS a genius. :) And now some lady came up with a thing called Elf on a Shelf. Same idea....Elf in the house, and he's watching you. My mom should have patented Tiny. She did get a little porcelain elf for me last year, though, to use for just this occasion.
Last night, I pulled out Tiny the Elf. We never actually had a "physical" Tiny to see when I was little. We just talked about him, and he would leave notes while we were sleeping. But having a little elf figurine works well, too. We talked about Tiny to Abigail, and that he would be watching her all month to see if she was making good choices or bad choices. She straightened up and smiled just talking about him. I told her he would be leaving her notes when he saw her make good choices. Then we walked into her room, and wouldn't you know it? Tiny the elf was sitting on her bookshelf. I said that he was watching her, and that he would be moving around the house, so she would have to keep an eye out for him. So far, it is working like a charm.
It worked for me for at least 20 years. I plan on using it exhaustively. Feel free to use Tiny to keep a little order and positive attitude at your house, too. Because my poor mom didn't patent him, so he is free to hire out.
Oh, and having a December birthday when I was little made Tiny visit my birthday party, too. I had a slumber party in 2nd grade, and Tiny wrote notes for all of the girls there. Then my mom got phone calls then next day from parents wanting to know who Tiny was and why her daughter was crying because Tiny didn't come to her house, too. So, heads up, friends. You may want to share Tiny with the world so that you don't have crying kids and parents upset with you.
Abigail has been making very good choices all day, from eating extra bites of her soup at lunch to going down for her nap with barely a whimper.....barely. Tiny works, people. That is a Christmas freebie from me. I love you, Mom....you genius.
When I was nursery school, Mom tells me, I had grown quite the little Miss Independent attitude. I wanted to choose my own clothes, whether they were weather-appropriate or not. I wanted to eat only certain foods, probably cheesy hot dogs or something. Basically, I was like any other five-year-old headstrong kid. My mom said she always felt exhausted at the end of the day, like all she had done was scold and discipline me and Jason, my older brother. Then she would peek in on us while we were sleeping, and realize what little angels we truly were. In our sleep only, of course.
So, in her desperation to enjoy her kids and not scold them all the time....I totally understand this feeling with Abigail....she came up with an idea.
And Tiny the Elf was born.
Tiny the Elf is one of Santa's little helpers. But unlike Santa, we get to hear from Tiny ALL December and not just on Christmas day. Tiny was talked up a lot at our house, but we never saw him. We knew he was watching us, though, and reporting back to Santa whether we were making good choices or bad choices. It wasn't just his report to Santa that straightened us up, though. It was the notes he left us all month. I would wake up in the morning to a note on my bedside table. Or I would go out to breakfast to find a note next to my cereal bowl. Or there would be a note on top of my shoes. The notes from Tiny were always positive and pointing out all of the good choices he had seen me make.
If I helped my mom pick out a pretty Christmas dress at the store and was a good shopping buddy, Tiny heard. If I ate my green beans at dinner, Tiny noticed. If I chose to wear jeans and a sweater to nursery school on that cold December day instead of my swimsuit, Tiny saw. If I went to bed without arguing, Tiny complimented me. They were simple little notes, usually hand-written on a note card.....I didn't recognize the hand-writing yet. And I LOVED knowing that Tiny noticed all of the good things I was choosing to do. I loved it so much, I kept all of his notes to me in a scrapbook to this day.
See? My mom was a genius. IS a genius. :) And now some lady came up with a thing called Elf on a Shelf. Same idea....Elf in the house, and he's watching you. My mom should have patented Tiny. She did get a little porcelain elf for me last year, though, to use for just this occasion.
Last night, I pulled out Tiny the Elf. We never actually had a "physical" Tiny to see when I was little. We just talked about him, and he would leave notes while we were sleeping. But having a little elf figurine works well, too. We talked about Tiny to Abigail, and that he would be watching her all month to see if she was making good choices or bad choices. She straightened up and smiled just talking about him. I told her he would be leaving her notes when he saw her make good choices. Then we walked into her room, and wouldn't you know it? Tiny the elf was sitting on her bookshelf. I said that he was watching her, and that he would be moving around the house, so she would have to keep an eye out for him. So far, it is working like a charm.
It worked for me for at least 20 years. I plan on using it exhaustively. Feel free to use Tiny to keep a little order and positive attitude at your house, too. Because my poor mom didn't patent him, so he is free to hire out.
Oh, and having a December birthday when I was little made Tiny visit my birthday party, too. I had a slumber party in 2nd grade, and Tiny wrote notes for all of the girls there. Then my mom got phone calls then next day from parents wanting to know who Tiny was and why her daughter was crying because Tiny didn't come to her house, too. So, heads up, friends. You may want to share Tiny with the world so that you don't have crying kids and parents upset with you.
Abigail has been making very good choices all day, from eating extra bites of her soup at lunch to going down for her nap with barely a whimper.....barely. Tiny works, people. That is a Christmas freebie from me. I love you, Mom....you genius.
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