I Don't Remember My Phone Number. Can I Have Yours?

My innocent five-year-old (who is feeling 100 percent better; thank you all for your kind thoughts!) has been attending a pottery camp all week, trying her hand at sculpting and painting all sorts of things. Today she made a birdhouse. She also made a new friend of sorts.

When Madeline announced over dinner that some "silly boy asked for her phone number," I nearly choked on my ants on the log. (Yes, I sometimes serve my kids peanut butter topped with raisin "ants" on celery sticks for dinner, especially when Daddy won't be home. The fare wouldn't make the cover of Gourmet magazine, but it's satisfying all the same.) After my tongue pushed the peanut butter off the roof of my mouth and I managed to control the weird twitch in my left eye, I asked. "Did you give it to him?"

"No. I don't even know our new number."

Whew. How fortuitous that we've just moved.

"But even if I did know it, I wouldn't give it to him," she quickly added.

Now that's my girl. Keep playing hard to get until you're about, oh, I don't know, 22 or so.

(Later it was revealed that the little player asked for every girls' number in the camp class, including the teacher's. "One girl gave him her Daddy's number. You're not supposed to do that." Right again, my precious firstborn.)

*After I posted this it occurred to me that the title might seem a bit nebulous. I just started thinking about how odd it was that a boy had already asked for my five-year-old's digits when I recall boys asking for my phone number twice in my entire life, and if my memory of this college night long ago serves me well, one of the times unfortunately involved a pick up line almost as bad as the title. The poor guy had had a few too many and somehow ended up trying to (dis)engage the one nearly sober girl in the entire bar.

The Whole Story

In my last post, I mentioned Madeline's persistent fever. What I didn't bring up is how concerned I was starting to become. My little, hopping cricket was no longer hopping. She was sleeping. All. Of. The. Time. As soon as I thought her fever had broken, it would return. She'd start to cry and would tell me she was freezing even though her body was like fire to touch. This went on for 11 days. As I mentioned, my husband got her in to see a doctor (in the ER) because we were having trouble securing a pediatrician in our new town. There they ruled out a UTI and an ear infection. On Monday (two days after she'd been to the doctor), she seemed more like herself again.

But on Tuesday she became lethargic again, and her fever returned.

On Wednesday, she woke up with a 102 fever (it had gotten up to 104.8 at one point), and I thought, "Enough of this cavalier approach. I'm getting my baby in to see a pediatrician."

And I did. Our new pediatrician was wonderful. She was thorough and great with Madeline - and with a worried mom.

"We need to do a workup," she said. She told me what the workup would include but when she got to the scary stuff, she starting spelling, "C-A-N-C-E-R markers."

C-A-N-C-E-R. Madeline sat on my lap completely oblivious to the gravity of it all.

The pediatrician reassured me that it was likely viral, but this was just to be safe. I blinked back tears. Madeline noticed. She doesn't miss a beat even when she's under the spell of a high fever. "Mommy?"

"Oh, you know how Mommy gets. You know how I've been silly with this move. Everything's fine."

But in the back of mind, I was thinking, "What if this time everything isn't fine?"

We went to the lab. They got us in so quickly. My new pediatrician who doesn't even know us gave me her personal cell phone number. She told me she'd call as soon as she knew anything.

Which she did only an hour or so after the lab visit. It turns out that somehow the first tests missed a severe urinary tract infection. (We're still wondering exactly how that happened.) Madeline is now on antibiotics. She has to get a renal ultrasound to check for scarring or an indication that this is going to be a chronic problem, but she'll be fine. Absolutely, beautifully-thanks-be-to-God fine.

After just one dose of antibiotics, the girl was back in full throttle, talking and moving a mile a minute. In the morning, her voice boomed in our cavernous home (we won't be furnishing all this space for a long time), but I didn't complain. When she jumped around and talked nonstop, I thought about how wonderful it was to have my chatty, active, and healthy Madeline back

So often when bad things happen, we ask ourselves, "Why me?" but the night after I knew everything was going to be okay, I woke up asking another question, "Why not me?" I've asked this question before, and I've asked similar questions, too. Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do some people seem to glide through life with little to no suffering while others endure heartbreak after heartbreak?

When I was a twenty-something and a friend of mine lost his young mother to cancer, I remember wondering when my lightening was going to strike. My life just seemed too blessed, too good. I knew then and I know now that God doesn't work like that. He's not weighing the pros and cons to help Him pick His next target for unbearable suffering. Still, it's difficult to not feel any guilt when your worst fears weren't realized, especially when you've faced some other scary chapters in your life that always seem to have happy endings.

Yet, as I watched my little girl revert back to her hopping cricket ways and bounce around in our yard as the slightest summer breeze lifted her sun-drenched hair, I decided it was time to ditch the guilt, to stop asking questions that are far too big for mortal me to ever begin to answer, and to just be grateful.

And that's just what these past few weeks of feeling helpless about a sick child who would get well, dealing with moving headaches, minor setbacks, and weird things like a rain cloud bursting as soon as I walked out the door and then going away as soon as I get inside (I'm not kidding) have done for me: They've made me very, very grateful that this is all I've had to deal with.

Madeline's health scare was, above all, a good reminder to soak up life, to stop worrying about the basement that still needs to be finished, the furniture that needs to be acquired, and all the other things that seemed so important before my baby girl came down with the fever that wouldn't go away and the tiniest worry crept into my mama bear heart that she might not be well. Maybe my small, short-lived suffering was just what I needed to pull me out of my cocoon of comfort, laziness, and self-pity over all the inconsequential inconveniences I've had to manage lately and to remind me to not take my children, their health, our life together, and the fun that awaits us every day for granted.

My dad texted me after he heard the results of Madeline's workup: "God is good. Sleep well tonight and remember each day is a precious gift." That it is. I only pray I won't squander it and will do my best to make good use of this gift for as long as it's handed to me.

Moms In Training

I got to hold this tiny treasure today. He was absolutely scrumptious. Those tiny toes. The grunts and coos. Even the present he made in his diaper while nestled in my arms left me pining for a wee one, a small taste of heaven (I'm insane, I know). Madeline was pining, too. On the way home, she couldn't stop talking about him. "Doesn't he make you want to have another baby? I can't stop thinking about him. You know what I liked about holding him the most? His warm body on mine and the way he 'sticked' out his little tongue. He was so cute."

My friend's big sister wanted Madeline to come play dress up with her, but she was very reluctant to let go of that baby.

While my younger girls weren't quite as hands-on with the newborn today, earlier they began fighting  over a book I ought to be reading until big sister Rachel remembered that empathy and sharing are some of the best ways to deal with ones smaller than you. I suppose it's never too early to start taking those small steps toward faithful motherhood. :-)

 

Kidisms Make Me Chuckle Every Time

Me: Thanks so much for taking such good care of your baby sister while I was upstairs.

Five-year-old: I really held the tent up, didn't I?

Me: You mean held the fort down?

Five-year-old: Yeah that, too.

Now You Know One Task My Perfectionism Overlooks

Five-year-old: Mommy, if you want, I could show you how to make a bed properly someday.

Small Miracles

 

Today we wandered outside to have a picnic lunch. A ladybug immediately caught Madeline's eye, and she gently picked it up to examine it more closely. Rachel didn't want to be left out, so we gave her a chance to hold the tiny critter. She didn't mean to, but she toddler-handled the poor thing, meaning she squished it.

"Oh no, Baby Rae, it's dead," Madeline said.

Rachel looked at the smushed bug on the pavement and said, "No, it's not."

Madeline, ever the empathetic one, patted her sister's shoulder. "It's okay, but it is dead." She looked at me for confirmation.

"Yes, I think it's dead. We just have to handle bugs carefully because they're so much smaller than us."

"I 'sowry,'" Rachel said to the deceased.

"Ladybugs don't understand apologies, especially dead ones," Madeline pointed out.

Rachel crouched low and looked at what now looked like a red smear on our patio and gently started blowing on it.

Then she began to shout, "It's alive, Mommy! I 'blowed' on it, and now it's crawling."

Sure enough the ladybug was creeping away from us, his smushed body peeled from the pavement.

"Wow," I said. (I really thought that bug was a goner.)

Madeline watched the ladybug scuttle away, and then smiled. "It's a miracle," she said. "A real miracle."

With the sun shining down on us, the baby digging in the dirt, and my two girls marveling at Lazarus the Ladybug, I whispered a quick prayer of gratitude, "Thank God for small miracles, and thank God for the children who recognize them."

I Do Times Two

April was a month of nuptial bliss for us (and yes, I'm just getting around to writing about it now). First, we hit the Big Apple where Madeline was a flower girl and I was a bridesmaid for her godmother's wedding. (Thankfully, the arm incident went down following the wedding, so Madeline did not have to accessorize with a bulky, blue cast.)


It was a beautiful ceremony. As much as I try not to, I have a bad, messy habit of crying at weddings (and miss my husband since he's always working and never seems to be able to be my date!). My eyes are too sensitive to handle waterproof mascara (thus the messy part). But I could not hold the tears back and really lost it at this one when I heard the priest quietly say to the bride and groom after they had received the Eucharist, "Now you've shared your first meal as husband and wife." And what a first meal to share together!

Aside from the touching wedding Mass and crazy-fun reception, other highlights of the trip included:

• Spending time with my Aunt Tina and Uncle John. We stayed in their Manhattan apartment, and they fed us well with their food, their stories, and their love. I briefly lived in their old Californian home in another lifetime and have always been close to them. During our visit it was a thrill to watch them interact with my own daughters. Madeline found an instant playmate in my Uncle John and her eyes widened with delight when he did things like find a tennis ball on the street and then started to bounce it off the buildings lining a Manhattan street.

Madeline found comfort in Aunt Tina's arms. On our last morning there, she was tired and completely melted down and started screeching for what we call a "time in" (where we take time to cuddle). I told her I was nursing the baby and she had to "cool off her oven" first. Aunt Tina opened her arms wide and said she would give her a time in while I was nursing. Madeline immediately scaled my aunt's lap and melted in her arms. My aunt smiled and whispered to me, "Heaven." They have one daughter and always wanted more children, but it didn't work out. I received an email after our visit, and they said, "Please have more." :-) I teased them that our visit was grandparent boot camp to prepare them for when their daughter gets married and has kiddos of her own.

• A visit to the Central Park Zoo. I had total deja vu when we stood before a wall of glass, watching polar bears pass through the water like floating ghosts. I have a faint memory of seeing polar bears swim, and I'd never really known where it came from or if it was even a real memory, but it turns out I visited this same zoo a long time ago on a family vacation.

• Getting all dressed up. As a bridesmaid, I had my makeup done. I rolled my hair and soft curls fell to my shoulders. I wore a satin dress the color of an orchid. I felt so girly. Just wish my husband had been there to see me all dolled up.

Here the flower girl and I am the night before the wedding.

For the record, sleeping in foam curlers isn't as easy as it was when I was a kid. I woke up with a crick in my neck. I'm getting old. :-)

• My photo shoot! No, I'm not pursuing a second career of acting (although as a kid, I always wanted to be a writer, an actress, and/or a horse trainer), but I did need to get some head shots for my upcoming book, and my aunt is a very talented professional photographer. She generously offered to do my head shots, and I was so impressed. Astonished, really, because I typically despise getting my picture taken (unless I'm acting goofy with my kids and ignoring the camera; then I oddly feel a little more at home, but I always have a silly look on my face like the above curlers photo corroborates) and often always irrationally hate snapshots of me (probably because of all of my geeky but happy expressions).
  
  But this was different. Aunt Tina made me feel at ease, and I actually had fun. What's more, when she showed me the contact sheet, I liked most of the photos. Funny story: At one point, some people flew by on roller blades and shouted, "Work it, girl!" This made me chuckle because this little book of mine, I hope, will encourage women not to "work it" at all but to instead be content to be the lovely person God designed them to be - geeky expressions included.

• Experiencing New York City with Madeline. I've always loved New York City, but I hadn't been there since my senior year of college. From my aunt and uncle's apartment, we could walk to all sorts of places - sidewalk cafes, stores, city groceries where cheese, olives, and freshly baked bread were piled high, etc. It was high adventure (for Madeline and me!) to explore the streets on foot. (And Madeline had the thrill of hopping on the subway and a city bus!)

E.B. White described the city perfectly when he wrote, "The city [of New York] is like poetry: it compresses all life, races, and breeds into a small island and adds music and the accompaniment of internal engines." The city enlivened all of my senses. I felt like a kid there because there were so many new sights, sounds, and smells to experience.

Funny thing is, I must have not looked too much like a Southern Belle tourist taking in the sights because I had three people ask me for directions on different occasions.

One of my best memories of exploring the city was when Madeline and I were nibbling on a scone together and she sighed happily and said, "I love life."

And I thought to myself, "How can I not love life, too, with that kid around me?"

An old friend from my husband's medical school days (another medical wife) was a bridesmaid, too. She's an amazing photographer and shared images from her trip here.

My girls all dressed up.

The only low point of the trip was not having Rae there with us. Since Dave could not tag along and because she gets overwhelmed by big crowds and loud noises (she's very, very different than her big sister), we decided it would be better if Rachel stayed at home with the grandparents and then with Daddy over the weekend. This was by far my longest absence from her and boy, did I miss my sweet girl. She missed us, too. She asked about her big sister constantly and upon our return home, she gave both of us the cold shoulder for a few minutes and wouldn't say anything to us. Poor dear.

After New York, we had a few days back in Georgia before we headed to St. Cloud, Minnesota (sans my husband again; it's oral board studying time) for a family wedding. Although the actual destination wasn't quite as exciting as the Big Apple, we had a wonderful time catching up with my mom's family and were witness to another beautiful wedding ceremony. At the reception, my girls tore up the dance floor. Madeline was the resident photographer (we had dozens and dozens of photos of the bride; she clearly was Madeline's favorite subject).

And, of course, it was a joy to have Rae with us. She was quite the big girl and wanted me to take a photo of her sipping from a big-girl glass at the reception. "I didn't spill!" she exclaimed.

While we were in New York, I missed seeing expressions like this:

And this:

I must say it's good to be back home. We were all starting to feel a lot like Mary Elizabeth looks here snoozing next to me (yes, she's my little, extra appendage and is never faraway - not even during the cocktail hour!):

Sometimes I wish someone would carry me around in a big sling. Looks relaxing, doesn't it?

Actually, the most interesting nuptial vows were scheduled to go down right here at home when Rachel asked me to help her put a dress-up gown on. "We're pretending to get married," she said.

"Oh, who's the husband?"

"Maddy."

Not sure how big sister felt about that arrangement.

Brave Girl

While at the playground early this evening, I said to a friend, "My kids are falling apart," referring to a tired toddler and a hungry baby, but it was five-year-old Madeline who really fell apart and has a big, blue cast to show for it. A tumble (that I didn't even see happen) broke her arm in two places.

My brave girl earned her bragging rights and boasted to the grandparents, "I didn't even cry!"

As for me, well, I blinked back the tears and somehow managed to keep the dam from breaking. But it wasn't easy.

Grammar Lessons

2-year-old: I want to sit next to Mommy.

5-year-old: This spot is already "tooken."

Me: You mean, "This spot is already taken." "Tooken" isn't a word.

5-year-old: Pardon me?

Me: "Tooken" isn't a word.

5-year-old: Yes it is.

Me: No it isn't.

5-year-old: Yes it is. You just don't know yet. You have to grow up.

Me: What do you mean?

5-year-old: You have to get older. Then you'll know.

Perhaps this gives a smidgen of insight as to why the grammar stage precedes the logic stage.

Comments closed for Lent.

Unconditional Love

I'm the nursing the baby in the soft light of morning while my 5-year-old stands close by, watching the two of us.

She reaches over and gently touches the sucking cheeks of her little sister. "She's the most 'beautifulest,' cutest, most wonderful baby there ever was, isn't she?"

After a brief pause, my older daughter crinkles her nose and says, "Except when she poops. Then she's gross."

I'm pretty sure she's thinking of a recent diaper calamity that involved Mom busily writing Christmas thank you notes and being completely oblivious to a crawling, pooping baby, a leaky diaper, and stinky stains all over our living room carpet. It was the 5-year-old who discovered the crime scene and the guilty party happily clapping her poop-clad hands. And it was very gross.

"But," my daughter adds, touching her sister again, "We love her anyway."

Pop Quiz

Me: What gifts did the three kings bring baby Jesus?

5-year-old: Frankenstein, gold, and myrrh.

Gazing

On Sunday both Rachel and M.E. were napping and under the watchful care of Papa and Gaba. I looked outside my parents' big windows at the brilliant blue sky dappled with just a few fleeced clouds and the lake water sparkling with sunshine. It was a day that begged for me to be outdoors.

"Madeline, do you want to go on a walk with me?"

Of course she did.

So my oldest daughter and I set outside. We brought only a bottle of water, a ball, and good conversation with us. We walked, pausing to notice the squirrel scampering up a tree and the glints of silvery mica on the ground.

Madeline started to skip along the gravel path. "Skip with me," she said.

So I did. And it felt good to skip and to smile beside my little girl.

When we were approaching the water's edge, Madeline said, "Mommy, let's just go sit by the water and gaze at it. That's a good idea, isn't it?"

It was.

We found a fallen log and sat on it. She tossed some pine cones in the water. We watched a family of mallard ducks glide across the glassy surface of the lake. And we gazed. Together. Just the two of us with no toddler or baby pining for my or big sister's attention.

The lake was beautiful but not as beautiful as the girl beside me. I noticed the way the fall sunshine painted her hair a honey hue and the way her cheeks were rosy from her skipping. When she noticed me gazing at her and not the water, she smiled, her big brown eyes bright. I smiled back. I thought, She's the best scenery of all and she's in front of me every single day, but I don't spend as much time gazing at her as I ought to.

"Let's go, Mommy," she said, taking my hand in hers.

I followed where she led me, watching her all the way.

An Under the Sea Tea

We celebrated Madeline's fifth birthday this past weekend. It was the first time I had a real party - as in, we invited two friends (and their siblings) rather than just relatives to salute her special day. Madeline really wanted to have an ocean theme, but she also wanted to host a tea party so we decided on an "Under the Sea Tea."

It could not have been more fun. I allowed Madeline to select the menu. We made our signature scones; cucumber sandwiches (I'll put together some tea sandwich recipes one of these days); Oreo truffles (the recipe calls for milk chocolate, but we always substitute dark); homemade hummus (I need to update my recipes and include this one; it's just tough because I add a little of this and a dash of that) with pita chips and crudités (such a delicious, fancy word for raw veggies, don't you think?); the easiest punch ever (pour one two-liter bottle of Ginger Ale over lime sherbet and viola!); deviled eggs; green olives (her favorite); chunks of fresh feta (another one of her favorites); and a heaping bowl of fruit.

Oh, and of course, tea! I actually decided to make a hot tea punch since I wasn't sure if most kids would like chamomile tea like mine do. The recipe calls for five tea bags; I used chamomile. My Rae especially loved the tea and gulped down at least three cups.

After all those sweets, we also had birthday cake (I was a slacker mom and ordered the cake from Publix since we had to make so much other stuff this year, and my husband, M.E., and I have been traveling a bit for his work). We're going through sugar detox right now.

We were fortunate to host the party on a sunny, mild day, so we set up two small kids' tables outside. Madeline was the perfect, little hostess and served the tea, using this super-cool tea set (it's made from recycled milk cartons and is dishwasher safe).

We set up the food buffet-style on our kitchen table. We used a navy tablecloth and decorated the table with some seashells from our summer beach trip to Gulf Shores. We served some of the smaller eats on these sea creature plates.

Aside from overindulging on sweets, the kids enjoyed three games. First, we played Pin the Pearl on the Oyster. I printed out a drawing of an oyster as well as some colorful tropical fish (and of course a barracuda; we can't figure out why, but Madeline has a fascination with these predatory fish) and pasted them on poster board. I then cut "pearls" out of cardstock and wrote each child's name on them. We used one of Madeline's sleep masks as a blindfold (yes, she's the only 5-year-old who requires a sleep mask to find her way to the Land of Nod).

Next we played Wet Fish (a version of Hot Potato). The kids passed around a stuffed animal fish while I played Tunes from the Tide. When the music stopped, whoever was stuck with the fish was out.

Finally, we had a fish pinata filled with fish tattoos, shark gummies, and some other candy (all from Oriental Trading). It took Uncle Josh using some of his muscle power to bust the thing and boy, did the kids have fun stuffing their fish goody bags with treats. I also gave each guest this fish bowl sticker scene and a dolphin one, too.

Madeline had so much fun at her "Under the Sea Tea," and she learned a thing or two about being a hostess as well. When one of her friends was leaving, she gave her a big hug and said, "Thank you so much for coming to my tea." Then Rae followed suit and thanked the guest for coming to "Maddy's birthday 'patrwy.'"

The party was nothing extravagant, but it made for a memorable day and the one boy in attendance enjoyed the games, especially whacking the fish pinata with a bat! I think it was a perfect theme for Madeline, too, since she likes to have tea parties without getting too girly-girl.

What are some of your kids' favorite b-day party themes?


Now for a gratuitous baby picture just because she's more delicious than any scone or piece of cake.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Madeline!

Dear Madeline,

You had your last soccer game this past weekend. Like always, you gave it your all and sprinted across the field with your tongue dangling from your mouth. Your face was flushed with heat (it was unseasonably warm even for Georgia) as well as happiness. Following the game, your coach handed out medals and when he draped one around your neck, he said, “This is for Madeline who never runs out of gas.”

That’s my girl to a tee – a spirited child who never stops going. You’re always in a hurry (except at bedtime). Even your birth was a whirlwind for us. After a quick 20 minutes of pushing, you were in my arms and I was crying tears at the miracle of you, saying over and over, “Thank you, God. Thank you, God.”

Once a wiggly, insomniac baby, then a bouncy, insomniac toddler. Next came the inquisitive, insomniac preschooler. And now here you are: A SLEEPING 5-year-old. You still don’t seem to be tired too often, but you do sleep at night curled up next to your little sister, hugging your favorite stuffed animal – a beanbag tiger.

My first baby girl, don't think for a minute that steam is the only thing you rarely run out of. You won't be outdone in generosity either. You possess a compassionate heart that naturally gives and gives.

On your birthday, you and Rae were eyeing your birthday presents when you volunteered with absolutely no prompting, “Baby Rae, you can open one of my presents if you want.”

Your sister’s face lit up as she turned to me and exclaimed, “I open a present, too!”

Another time I went upstairs to check on you and Ishaan, a neighbor’s child you like to play with, and found the two of you hovered over a pile of coins from your piggy bank.

“What are you guys up to?” I asked.

“I’m giving Ishaan some of my money,” you told me.

I’m sure Ishaan was quite pleased with how that playdate was unfolding. Talk about sharing!

My sweet girl, a lover of bugs, drawing and coloring, fairies, soccer, baking, eating chocolate, green olives, feta, and hummus (not together), all things blue, nature walks, Feezy, Ribbon Lassie, and Kitty (your three imaginary friends who apparently also turned 5 this weekend), swinging, wrestling with Daddy, cuddling at bedtime, singing, running and running and running some more, a hater of bedtime, onions, and making stinkies, you are happiness. You are optimism. (When you spilled strawberry yogurt on the ribbon of your new soccer medal and I couldn’t get the stain out, you said, “That’s okay. Now it’s just more colorful.”) You are sensitive to spiritual things and to others’ feelings. You hate it when anyone cries. You refuse to be in the same room when one of your sisters has to endure a shot, but you're eager to offer comfort once the prick of the needle is over. You are creative, smart, witty, silly, energetic, and perceptive (you have your daddy’s eye for details and notice things like the one flower embroidered on your dress that is missing its center). And you are kind. You’re turning into such a fine, little lady. Every day you make me proud.

For these past five years (five years!!! I cannot believe I have a 5-year-old now!!!), your little life has helped shape me into a better person. Your bright smile has made me more joyful. Your tenacity (and all the smoothie spills on the dining area’s carpet) have made me more patient. Your energy has made me stay somewhat in shape even though I've sidelined my running shoes. Your tears have made me more compassionate. Your intrepid and quick fingers that effortlessly grasp crickets and spiders have made me less fearful. Your generous nature has made me want to give more. And the love you have for me has made me pray the very words I said over and over when I first met you every single day since I held your newborn form in my arms: “Thank you, God. Thank you, God.”

I love you, Madeline. Happy, happy birthday! You’ll always be my special, first baby bear – the best first baby bear a mother ever could want!

Love,
Mommy

One Leg Up (Quite Literally)

The other day Madeline noticed a heel lift in my tennis shoe for my left foot.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I had to get a heel lift in my left shoe because one of my legs is a lot shorter than the other."

As in almost two stinkin' inches, People. And I'd been wondering why I could no longer run long distances and why my hip was killing me. It's a wonder I can even walk. (A recent visit to a sports medicine physician revealed I have a drastic leg length difference problem. It's no wonder I'm a complete klutz.)

"That's silly," she said. "Both your legs have had the same time to grow."

She does have a point. Hopefully, my children will grow more evenly than their mom.

He Loves Me, I Love Him Not

It wasn’t supposed to happen. I’d been strong for so long. I’d resisted him. For nearly five years, I’d kept him out of my home, out of my children’s lives. But one moment of weakness, and now our lives are forever changed.

It wasn't all my fault. Really. I thought the curious monkey was supposed to be around, but it was this guy instead, and I caved in to my child's pleas to see more of him. Now she's infatuated. There's little, if any, hope of taking her back now. He's like preschooler crack, and she is a happy addict.

Of course, even when he was only lurking in the shadows (or the quick promotional spots on public television), I could not shield my firstborn completely. Somehow she still knew his name and the features of his large face. I don’t know how. I thought I’d made her impervious to his charm, but I was wrong. Very wrong.

Why, then, was I so surprised when she caught a glimpse of him the other day and begged to be able to see more of him?

“Why?” I asked.

“I love him,” she explained. I flinched. When did this happen? How could I be so blind? So naive? Love him? How can you love someone you don’t even know?

“Why don’t you like him, Mommy?” she asks. He really has her, I realize. He’s captured my 4-year-old’s heart.

I have no real answer. It’s a fair question, I suppose. I should have to explain my intolerance. Why am I not more open-minded?

“I just don’t like him,” I hear myself saying.

What kind of lessons am I teaching my child by snubbing the object of her affection just because he's different than us and sickeningly saccharine sweet? I just don't believe he's being completely sincere. Does the guy ever have a bad day?

He’s definitely too old for her. Not to mention, too reptilian. And that voice of his. It’s annoyingly nasal. And his eggplant-purple skin and that plastered on smile and those perfect, gleaming white teeth (those have to be caps).

Oh, but Madeline has fallen hard for his timeless allure. (I mean, isn’t his kind supposed to be extinct?)

“I love Barney,” she says, eyes glazed over, face flushed with the fervor of young love.

Resist his dinosaur charm! I want to scream, but it’s too late. From her dazed expression and the dreamy tone of her voice, I know she means it. He’s singing that ridiculous song, and she’s buying it.

But I’m not. Not for a second.

“I love you, you love…”

Oh, but I don’t. Yours is an unrequited love. It always has been, and it always will be.

7 Quick Takes

~1~

We hope to hit an orchard this fall but even if that doesn't end up happening given our busy weekends over the next few weeks, I plan on stocking up on apples while they're in season. (Apples hit their harveting peak this month.)

Now what to do with all our bounty?

Well, Madeline and Rae had fun making these apple print cards, which we ended up sending to the grandparents for Grandparents' Day. Even a not-so-artsy-fartsy-mom-like-me can manage a craft like this.



We also whipped together an easy and delicious apple loaf. Find the recipe here.

Then there's always my easy-peasy homemade applesauce. This makes great baby food, too. Just omit the sugar.

~2~

Me: I think Rae has grown. That dress used to come down to her calves.

Madeline: What did you say? The dress used to come down to her fawns?

Wrong baby animal, kiddo.

You gotta love the way kids' minds work. It reminds me of the other day when I said something about the baby being a light sleeper. "I'm not a light sleeper though," Madeline said. "I'm a dark one."

~3~

Like Air Jordan, Madeline is unable to score without her tongue dangling out of her mouth (look at the photo closely).



Always one to emulate everything her big sister does, Rae couldn't keep her tongue in her mouth either when she had a chance to mess around on the soccer field.

~4~

Just because we're urbanites doesn't mean we can't enjoy some homegrown goodness. We had two successful containers this year, thanks to Pop (my husband's dad). Pop not only bought our tomato plant as a gift and helped plant the carrot seeds in a pot, but he served as our gardening consultant as well. (My thumb is black, so I need all the help I can get.) We were very pleased with our crops. We enjoyed having fresh tomatoes on hand, and our girls loved unearthing carrots and then munching on them like little rabbits.

~5~

I recently had the amazing opportunity to chat with Fr. Leo Patalinghug of Grace Before Meals. Talking to him made me not only hungry for some good eats but also for the Bread of Life. His zeal for the faith is tempered only by his humility. Read more about the faithful foodie here.

~6~

I must be hungry or something considering most of my Quick Takes mention food. I think I'll go get a snack. These sound yummy.

~7~

Since I'm at a loss for words at this point (that seventh QT is always a challenge for me), I'll borrow someone else's:

"God doesn't expect immediate perfection; he loves progress."

Word Among Us Meditation for Tuesday, October 6th

For more Quick Takes, be sure to stop by Jen's Conversion Diary.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Let the Games Begin

I'm officially a soccer mom, having nursed a baby on the sidelines while cheering on Madeline and her teammates at her first-ever soccer game on Saturday.

How did Madeline end up a little soccer knocker?

Well, our little girl would love to take horseback riding lessons, and one day her dreams of galloping across an open field on a trusty steed just may come true; however, our current budget and location (we're urbanites right now) does not allow for such an outdoorsy and pricey hobby. Plus, Dad, who did not grow up on horses as I did, finds the idea of his precious little girls on top of 1000-plus pound animals a bit unsettling. (I really can't blame him. Sometimes when I stumble across a picture of my horse crazy self as a child looking no bigger than a peanut on a massive horse, I realize just how much my parents loved me to get over their fears and let me ride.)

Since horseback riding is out for now, we decided to try ballet after much begging on Madeline's part, but our gazelle was far more interested in sprinting across the dance floor than perfecting a plié.

As for soccer, the sport seemed like a perfect fit for our high energy girl. And it is. Madeline's face glowed with sweat and happiness as she ran across the soccer field.

At one point she said, "I'm so tired."

Was that angels singing?

Seriously, I don't think I've ever heard this chipper child say that before.

Later that night she said something else that got my attention, "I had so much fun out there on that field."

Looks like, for now, she's found her sport.

Goal!

Sympathy

After changing oh, I don't know, the gazillionth explosive diaper in one day (the baby has transformed into the Poopenator), my 4-year-old kindly pats me on the back and says, "Mommy, I'm so sorry you have to deal with so much grossness."

Thankfully, I get to deal with a lot of sweetness, too.

Where the Wild Things Are