Outlook

I listened to a stunning story a few weeks ago on NPR (full text at the link). The story is about the Wounded Warriors: wounded veterans who were making a long trek on custom-fitted bikes. You heard the soldier's story, then you heard his mom: "That's usually about the same time Patrick would call, so ... I was expecting Patrick to go, 'Hi, Mom.' Instead we got, 'This is Marines Quantico,' " she says. "It was tough, you know, then you just settle on, OK, he's injured but he's alive. Then they read off the list of injuries, and you just have to focus on, OK, but he's alive. "So it was five days of rough stuff before he got back here," she adds. "But then when he was here and you can lay eyes on him, you know, you're like, it's going to be OK — we can deal with all this, we can get through this. And he's had nothing but a positive attitude, so that helps immensely." 


And I yelled to the car radio: HE LEARNED IT FROM YOU. The positivity. It's not an accident he had that outlook. And I immediately thought of my mom. 


We recently saw friends we hadn't seen in a while, and when we briefed them on our ongoing struggles with adding to our family and other struggles not mentioned on this blog, the wife commented: but I asked how you were, and you guys seem fine. I shrugged and said, well we've got a lot to be thankful for. We have each other. And it's going to get better.


I thought of that too when I heard the radio story. God knows my mom went through some tough times; but that fight to keep on keepin on, when things get really shitty and raw and terrible. That desire to hold onto hope that it's gonna get better. THAT. Is Learned by example. So thanks mom. I think most women would have given up, hearing that they needed eight surgeries instead of three, hearing that nope, that pregnancy isn't going to work out either. Through all of our trials. You focus on that glimmer of hope; you hold tight to it because sometimes it's all you have. And you wake up the next day determined to fight on. 
My mom taught me that. I can't thank her enough.

Mommy's Day

I love being your mom, I told Lucia about five times today. And it's true. I really do. There are some moments where I dream of ditching work, surprising her at school with an early pickup and having her run towards me with open arms. Again and again. We'd hold hands and having charming conversation over snacks at a cafe, then come home and she'd help me with dinner. We'd read books. She's squeeze my neck and hug me tight and go to bed without too much of a fight.

Life is messier than that, most days. Fortunately/unfortunately. Most nights have glimmers of that, mixed in with tantrums, a thousand NOs from her, and constant negotiation. As we are almost through age 3, I think I can speak for most moms when I say HOOBOY THESE ARE SOME CHALLENGING MONTHS, EH? 

But still, look at her. I mean. She's the greatest. I love being her mom. In the past year I've learned to prioritize and listen to myself much more, read my kid, and respond in a way that feels authentic to me, and less cookie-cutter and full of Shoulds. And for that, I am proud. 

Blueberries, she hearts theeeeeeee

Every morning its the first thing out of her mouth: Mommy did you buy me some blueberries? Me: I think so, let's go check.

We've long past tried to keep up with fresh and moved on to frozen. She eats pile after pile each morning and I have to remind her to eat things like almond butter in between piles so she can play hard at school.

Dirt Merchant

You're a dirt merchant, Lucia! She said, no I'm not a dirt merzen! We are thankful for the amount of outdoor play her school provides but good god she's filthy when she comes home. It's putting a crimp in our minimalist bathing style.

Happy Birthday Ninny!

Higher!

Water break!

It was super hot in the Bay area today!

Readin

No faster way to get her to eat her dinner then to tell her we can read books.

Pre-Reading

"Listen Mommy!"

P

E

A

N

U

T

B

U

T

T

E

R

What does that spell, Lucia? 

"PEANUT BUTTER!" 

That's right! (dude, she's going to be reading in no time!)

Free Ices

Lucia has recently become obsessed with having things JUST SO when she has a cup of water: "Can you get me water with free (three) ices? And check for baby ice?," she asks each time. Baby ice is little pieces of ice cubes that are left when you break ice cubes out of the trays (our fridge is old skool). Each time it has to be the same. Do not deviate or there will be hell to pay. 

So last night she gets up at 12:30 and says she's thirsty. She typically -- and thank god for this -- sleeps through the night, so this was kinda unusual. I stumble to the kitchen and she demands: I WAN FREE ICES. And I dunno, I just thought, you know what kid? The world is not going to end if you don't get three ice cubes in your water IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. So I gave her two instead. 

Little did I know, Lucia's world WAS about to end, as she proceeded to scream her head off for the next ohIdunno, 45-60 minutes straight? I kept tellng her that she had two choices: water with two ice cubes or go back to bed without water and she would just stammer and yell/sob, "I WAN FREE ICES. FREE ICES. FREE ICES. FREE ICES." She couldn't breathe she was sobbing so hard. At first I got really mad and stormed out of her room; I mean, dude. It's 1 a.m. and you're throwing a tantrum NOW? But then I came back in after Pete went in, picked her up, rocked her in our chair rubbed her back and hugged her. I explained that I understood she was mad, and it was OK to be mad, but three ices wasn't a choice right now but it might be tomorrow. And that I would hold her as long as she needed. I figured this is what she needed; extra compassion and some acknowledgement that she was having a tough time. 

Thirty minutes later with her continuing to sob and never-endingly yell/sob of I WAN FREE ICES Pete said it was time to let her cry it out. I hugged her and gave her the choice of water with two ice cubes or no water one more time. She started yelling again. I said, Ok Lucia, good night. 

She cried, yelled, screamed. Then finally, she quieted down. I thought she fell asleep but Pete thought that she was awake still. I tiptoed into her room and saw her laying on the floor, and started to grab a blanket to cover her up. But then up she sprang and announced excitedly: MOMMY? I'M AWAKE! I'M NOT CRYING ANYMORE! i'M HAPPY! CAN I HAVE SOME WATER WITH TWO ICES?" Completely baffled, I said of course. She drank some water, then happily said, Goodnight Mommy! Love you!

I do not understand age 3. One of my favorite bloggers wrote this yesterday, so at least I know we're not alone.