Lila News: 21 Months

Dear Lila,

I started writing this post in March, and - can you believe it? - I got sidetracked and put it aside.  This is what I wrote:

You gave me a kiss for the first time last week (you had already smooched daddy and River a few days before and I was waiting anxiously for my turn).  It was a slobbery open-mouthed face mash and just about the sweetest thing ever.  It was evening, you were warm and cozy in your pajamas after bath time and your dad said, "Okay, Lila, it's time for bed.  Give mommy and River a kiss."  You hit us with your mushy love, waved and said "bye bye,"  and then led the way to your bedroom.  Amazing.  I think about the fact that you only just learned to walk a few short months ago, that it's even less time since you stopped putting EVERYTHING into your mouth, and I realize how quickly you've gone from baby to toddler.

My heart breaks a little bit to think of those baby days as "past."  To know that you won't ever again be a little 8 lb beauty practically floating in my arms; that I can't repeat those precious moments watching you discover your own hands; that I'll never again kiss those impossibly tiny toes.  Of course it's not a tragedy because I get to hold my 20 lb big girl as you chatter at me, and I can watch you discover how to hold a spoon or fork, and I can kiss those impossibly cute cheeks (and toes) anytime I want.

 

I wanted to share this with you because it's such a sweet little kernel of "Lila-life" and I don't want to forget it.  You have become quite an adept - and frequent - kisser, and every exit and goodbye is accompanied by a sweet smooch from you.  But should I try to request a kiss outside those parameters? Don't even think of it, buddy.  I used to worry that you would never be a cuddly kid.  You're so independent; you have never needed rocking and holding the way River did.  You have always pushed away too much affection and demanded your personal space.  But slowly, right about the time you finally deigned to let us have your sweet kisses, you started to allow a snuggle here, a hug there, until now, you will frequently occupy my lap for a long cuddle.  The key is that YOU must initiate.  If River or I go in for a hug (as we so often want to do), you will resolutely reject all advances.  This affection thing will occur on your terms or not at all.  It's something I love about you.

Your ability to fend off unwanted advances extends beyond people.  I remember a moment from last spring when we were at River's school to pick him up and one of the other parents had brought along their hyper, jumpy little puppy.  She was bouncing around from kid to kid and when she approached you for a quick nuzzle, you looked sternly at her and gave her a little "no, no, no" wag of your finger.  Every adult around dropped their jaw, then burst out laughing.  "Oh my," said one of them, "you don't have to worry about her at all."  We'll see.

While you don't want affection thrust upon you, you don't have the slightest compunction about thrusting your affection on animals.  Our long-suffering kitties have born the brunt of your rough love, enduring full-body tackles, sticky finger petting, and the occasional fur-pull.  Poe is smart enough to move away when she's had enough of your "love," but Edgar is too lazy to move; or perhaps so needy for affection that he is willing to put up with all sorts of indignities to get it.

You love all kinds of animals!  You gravitate toward animal picture books and whenever we're outside you're sure to point out the birds and squirrels and bugs that you see.  For a while you used the "bird" sign to point out small creatures, making a little "cheep cheep" sound as you pressed your thumb and index finger together.  Ducks made the "quack quack" sound, which you imitated quite well, but all other animals were ferocious beasts who made a deep-throated growl.  Elephant?  Growl.  Tiger? Growl.  Alpaca?  Growl.  After learning a series of real and made-up signs, you now know how to distinguish a monkey from a fish from a dinosaur.  For all the other myriad creatures you don't know the name for, we now sign "animal."  I miss the growl a little bit.

You are a little expert at sign language.  I know we could be having full conversations in sign by now if I could learn it more quickly, because you pick up a sign within the first few uses.  It's helped us tremendously in communicating with you.  You let us know when you're hungry or thirsty, when you need to potty or sleep; you point out things you see like flowers and helicopters (for which you've created your own sign of "air train"!).  And while you're moving at your own pace in speaking, you are definitely not missing out on sharing your ideas with us.  Sign came in handy a few months ago when you insisted on calling any grown-up mommy, even your father.  I taught you the sign for daddy and instantly you were able to say the word.  Now grown-ups are divided by gender into "mommy" and "daddy" - which is pretty amusing when you attack a stranger with a hug and an exuberant "Daddy!"

I mentioned your use of the sign for "potty" above and I don't want to skip over the fact that at 21 months you have effectively potty trained yourself.  River loves to hear the story I tell about how this came about, so here it is: You followed me into the bathroom one afternoon having nothing on but a diaper.  We had taught you the "potty" sign in anticipation of using it down the road, and you signed it to me then.  I said, "Yes, mommy is going to go potty."  You kept signing and started pulling your diaper off.  Finally it clicked and I asked if you wanted to try to go potty.  You gave a resounding head nod, so I pulled out River's old training seat and set you up.  I figured you'd be there for a few minutes and get off.  When I asked if you were done you shook your head no, so we waited a bit more.  Finally, I heard a little tinkle tinkle in the pot and I couldn't believe my ears.  We decided to seize the opportunity and get you into panties for a training weekend.  It went so well that you're now in them all the time (except sleeping), and we have lots of days with no accidents at all.  I'm so proud of you.

There is still one area where your independence waivers a bit, and that is blankie.  River has his stuffed bear as a sleeping companion but for you, it's always been the little punk rock quilt I made for you.  You've never taken a pacifier to sleep, and as I mentioned above, you're not really a cuddler, so most nights your bedtime routine is a few books and songs in a chair, then we lay you down with blankie, you pop your thumb in your mouth and fall asleep.  But blankie is such a comfort item for you, you've started carrying it around whenever we let you.  And when you have it in your hand, you almost always want to lay down on it with your thumb in your mouth. It's the cutest Pavlovian response I've ever seen.  It's really the only time you suck your thumb - but you simply can't resist when you have the pink and black blankie in your arms.

Lila, you are growing into such a fun and amazing person.  I've loved watching you transition from teeny baby to independent toddler.  You love to follow River around and try to do everything he does.  As a result you're quite a good climber and have surprising dexterity.  You love music and will dance to the beat anytime you hear it.  You are funny and happy and so easy-going.  And while the two's are on the horizon, and I know they won't pass us by unscathed, you have already shown us your basic approach to the world: enjoy life, laugh a lot, and don't let the little things stress you out.

I love you my baby girl.  To the moon and back.


xoxo,
Mommy

River News: Month Forty-Seven

Dear River,

I think it's nearly a year since I've written an update on you.  In that time your sister has turned from an infant to a toddler, you started your first year of preschool, your cousin Kian arrived, and both he and Finn moved away.  I feel like our home has finally settled after the tsunami of changes your sister brought with her.  And you, my little boy, have made some Hulk-sized changes yourself.

Your introduction to school has been such an enormous source of inspiration and growth for you, and in a short time you have learned to navigate new friendships, new authority figures, physical and intellectual challenges, and your role as both leader and student.  Our greatest hope for you, as we walked out of preschool that first day, was for you to learn how work with kids your age, letting go of the "this is what I want to do!" mentality and into a space of negotiation.  And wow! have our expectations been exceeded.  Those first few weeks were hard for you and you spent a lot of time playing alone or trying to strong-arm others into carrying out your grand visions ("We have to make a sand tunnel this way!  No, the bulldozers dig here!") 



But it only took a few weeks for you to realized that collaborating with the other kids brought about much better results, and some of your strongest friendships formed in the sandbox as you plotted designs together with a new ally.  You quickly learned to trust your teachers - two wonderful women who listen to you and respect your ideas while deftly imparting the knowledge that you are not the only person in the universe.  You are now seen as a strong force in your school and your attention sought out by other classmates.  Of course you have idols, some of the bigger kids more adept physically and further along the road to reading.  I love to see you emulating their nobler habits (and yes, cringe when I see you emulating their annoying ones.)

One of your most memorable moments came a few weeks before Christmas break while your class was gearing up for the harvest festival.  You had been reading a book called Tiger Soup that inspired the class to create its own imaginary concoction.  Your teachers had written down and posted all the fantastic ingredient ideas your classmates came up with and at the bottom of the list I saw with a bit of surprise, "River: cumin."  To be honest I was so proud that you had such a sophisticated palate, that some of my cooking knowledge had rubbed off on you.  That night I asked you to tell your father what you added to the "Tiger Soup."  You replied with glee, "HUMAN!"

Oh.  Well that sounds more like you.



This year you have really learned how to be an excellent big brother, taking great care of Lila's safety and happiness.  You've come to the realization that Lila takes up some of our time as parents, and you are very patient (within reason) of her demands.  Of course you lucked out with an exceptionally undemanding sister, one who basically wanders around looking cute and entertaining herself, so it hasn't been that difficult a task for you.  Her adorableness is a huge source of pride for you and you love to show her off and pronounce her victor in imaginary battles having used only her "Cute Ray." 



Of course, your need for affection has not waned, and the constant bear hugs and physical displays aimed at Lila are met with joy (occasionally) or annoyance (frequently).  You've become accustomed to defending yourself after a squeal from Lila elicits the question, "River, what did you do?!"  I'm working very hard not to jump immediately to blame, but come on, you really are the source of most of her outbursts.   As for your affection for mommy… let just say I am The Woman in your life and you might just shrivel up without snuggles from me.

The great tragedy of this year has been the relocation of your beloved Finn to Las Vegas.  The devastation seemed to hit you in waves and weeks would go by before we would hear the requests to "go visit Finn tomorrow."  Your disappointment that it wasn't possible was heartbreaking and the few times you have seen him since have been occasions for great celebration.



As for your interests, in the past year you have gone from an obsession with garbage trucks to dinosaurs, and you have become quite the little paleontologist.  It is an ongoing joke between you and I to distinguish a Stygimoloch from a Pachycephalosaurus and you rattle out those names with authority and ease.  You know the characteristics of a carnivore vs. a herbivore and are familiar with dozens of dinosaurs and their traits.  Your love of knowledge and ever-searching mind is such a source of pride for your father and I.  We love that you are a learner, and we are so proud of your curiosity.



Of course, as I write this dinosaurs are being edged out by superheroes in your affection, and you are quickly becoming an expert in those as well.  You love the idea of a person with amazing powers, someone strong enough to beat evil and avert death.  I came to comic books late in life and usually my choices were off the mainstream superhero tales.  But I'm loving sharing this new obsession with you, and both your dad and I willingly read you endless comic adventures.



It has opened the door for robust physical play - great scenarios of good vs. evil you enact with anyone willing.  Your dad is your favorite punching bag, and he's often greeted with a tackle and an exclamation, "Let's roughhouse!"  When you aren't throwing yourself around an imaginary battleground you love to build with legos or create elaborate forts.  You have a designer's mind and you are always full of innovation and creation.



There is so much more I could say about how you've changed and grown this year, but I think I'll close with some of my favorite quotes:

During a sleepover, after ushering Finn out of your room with the same flimsy excuse for the third time in a row:  "I don't know why Finn has to go pee so many times."
Your favorite way to say yes for about three months: "Yes-a-tootie rumbo!"
Your warning every time Lila would crawl toward Edgar to tackle him with hugs: "Edgar, run for your life!"
The way you tell me you love me more than anything in the world: "I love you to the bellies of Hogar."



Well, my boy, I love you to the bellies of Hogar and I always will.
xoxo,
Mommy

Don't let those sweet faces fool you

I've been searching for a new sitter since December, and I think I'm close to finding one.  I had an excellent phone interview with someone a few days ago and I'll be meeting her in person this afternoon.  I got off the call and said to Thom, "I love her.  She seems perfect. Please, God, I hope she's the one."  Can you hear the desperation? If she doesn't show up with a hook for a hand and a bag of dead puppies, it should be a lock.

Without any help this past month, I've been basically surviving the daily grind.  No time for sewing, no time for blogging, and without a date night with Thom to remind me I'm more than a mommy machine, I'm kind of going crazy. I've had more than few days of feeling ready to be strapped down in a padded room, but the end is in sight.  I thought I would enjoy my solo time with the kids a bit more, but this past month has brought some insane developmental changes in Lila and a whole new round of monstrous testing and tantrums from River.  So what I thought might be leisurely days at the library or playing dress-up have turned into nearly non-stop screaming matches with a 3 year old broken only by the occasional trek through the house to picking up EVERY. SINGLE. ITEM. pulled from our drawers, cabinets, and shelves by Lila.

So if you've noticed an absence here in Summerland, now you know why.  Hopefully, my sanity and I can make an appearance again soon.

Lila on the move

These kids sure are in sync.  River took his first steps just a few weeks before his first birthday and Lila-girl has done the same thing!  I take full credit for the poor cinematography here - but the star of the show is top notch!



Double click on the video to see the whole screen.

bloodletting

Somewhere between chopping veggies, keeping Lila away from the oven, and picking up dropped crayons, River asked me whether a person could bleed so much that they died*.  Perhaps if the usual dinnertime chaos swirling around weren't so, well - chaotic - that question would have set off alarm bells; but as it was, I said, "Yeah.  If they lost enough blood a person could bleed to death," and went back to chopping and guarding and helping.

*(edited:  This might seem like a bleak and startling question for a 3 year old, but River is very curious about physiology and we often have frank discussions about how the body works.)

Flash forward a few days and River is getting a much needed haircut.  I finish up, brush him off, and start to vacuum when I hear a shout of alarm.  He's staring at his thumb and saying, "You cut me, mom!"  I KNOW his fingers weren't anywhere near the scissors but he does indeed have a little nick on his thumb.  I examine it and proclaim, "It's not too bad.  Need a kiss?"  Usually that would be a perfectly acceptable remedy, but today River seems really freaked out.

"No mom!  You cut me!  I need a band aid!"

Still not sure why this particular scratch has him so stressed, I patch him up and we all move on.  Later that night I'm sitting on the couch working on a photo project when River brings me a mushroom slicer from the kitchen.  I have no idea why he's brought it out, but I tell him it's too dangerous to have laying around and he needs to bring it back to the kitchen and put it away.  A few minutes later I hear shrieks of alarm.  Thom gets to him first and then calls for me to help.  I see blood gushing from River's index finger and realize he's cut himself on the slicer.

We get the cut washed off and it's a tiny little thing, but it's a bleeder.  River is screaming and clawing at his dad, and when he says, "Make it stop!  I don't want all my blood to come out and die!" it suddenly hits me.  That little throwaway conversation we had days before was not such a throwaway.  We get the cut cleaned and bandaged and River calms down measurably.

I do my best to explain that he can't bleed to death from little cuts like that, but he's having none of it.   The idea of mortality has hit him hard and reassuring words are not helping.  His fear of blood has gotten so extreme that River made us come home from Trick-or-Treating to get a band aid for the minuscule scrape he got from falling on his hand.  There wasn't even any blood.

I'm not sure what to do about the cloud of doom hanging over my little boy's head.  We started having conversations about death a few months ago, and while it often makes him sad to think of other people dying, this is the first time he's really started understanding his own mortality.  In the last two days I've heard him say, "I'm going to stay downstairs in my room all the time.  There's no sharp things down there," and "I'm not going outside.  I might fall."

If you know what an adventurous, rough-and-tumble boy he is, you understand how out of character these statements are. I know it's important for him to work through these ideas in his own way, but I sure wish I could save him the trauma of it.

This kid's got way too much adventuring to do to live in a plastic bubble.

 
P.S.  Here are some before and after shots of his hair.

Hello to you too

Upon waking yesterday morning, Lila saw our cat, Edgar, in the kitchen, waved to him and said, "Hi!" She said "Hi!" again about half a dozen times yesterday to me, River, daddy, and my friend Jonathan. Aside from Ma-ma-ma (me) and ba-ba-ba (what she uses for her "boys," daddy and River), "Hi" is her first word. It's so indicative of her personality that a friendly greeting would be high on her list. Lila continues to be my angel baby - sweet and happy, curious and able to entertain herself. She has her determined moments; times when a freight train barreling toward her coudn't keep her from her goal.  But for the most part she's a bright light of love in this house.

I'll be excited to see what words come next - what inspires her, what she wants or likes.  Puppies and sunshine, I bet.  I was looking over this post about River's first words and was amused to remember that "Hi" came much later on his list, and long after "trash," "digger," "beer," and "boobies." 

It's all about priorities.

Lila News: Nine Months

Dear Lila Jae (and, yes, you should get used to hearing both names - it's a verbal tick none of us can help),


I need at least three more of these updates to fully describe all that has happened in the past four months, but we'll just have to manage with this.  METAMORPHOSIS!  You are a little butterfly, my beautiful girl, compared with the cute little caterpillar you were just back in May.  Then you were just learning to roll over.  Now?  You roll anywhichway, sit up, crawl, pull up, feed yourself, and run a little sports-book in the back of the house. 



You're still an epically good sleeper, but you don't do it nearly as often.  For the first six months you pretty much slept all the time with very short breaks to wake up, look around, be cute, and fall back into your natural state of slumber.  Then all of a sudden you WOKE UP.  You still manage to sleep through the night, and given the right conditions you still nap easily, but you decided that 10 naps a day was for wussies, you only needed 2 or 3.  At first we were so confused that our little angel baby was turning into such a fuss bucket - and then we just stopped forcing you into your crib and you stopped screaming at us.  Funny that.



It wasn't just that you stopped needing sleep, you really started engaging in the world.  You wanted to be in it - play with your brother, tackle the cats, show mama how clever you are.  You decided about 2 months ago that you wanted to crawl, and you just worked and worked and worked until you could do it.  You still entertain yourself most of the time (you go from toy to toy, investigate the kitchen or under the dining table - perfectly content), but you have to be moving.  In fact, your need to move is so strong that anything that slows you down gets the Lila Scream Treatment.  Diaper changes, dressing after bath, trimming your nails - all ridiculous tasks you want nothing to do with. And when I carry you, you are all business: what can I see? what can I reach?  where are we going?  There are no sweet snuggles into mommy's shoulder; I have to carry you face forward - arm across your chest and hand between your legs - so you have the view you want.



In fact, you have such a minimal need for affection that you weened yourself at 8 months.  By that point we were really only nursing a few times a day and you were so disinterested in the task, I stopped forcing it on you.  It definitely hurt my heart to think you weren't devastated by the loss of connection, but as Nanu recently pointed out, River probably nursed enough for both of you.  So, my body is my own again (for the first time in 4 years!) and you are thrilled to hold your own bottles.



I never imagined you would be so fiercely independent.  You are so easy going in so many ways, but when you set your sights on a goal you are relentless.  We struggled for months trying to feed you that icky glop of first foods (oatmeal and jarred fruit).  You wouldn't touch it.  You were obviously hungry, but you pushed the spoon away like a little rage-filled gremlim.  Finally out of desperation - even though I didn't think you were ready - I started trying more solid foods: chopped bananas, avocados, cooked carrots.  You LOVED them.  But you had to feed yourself.  You would reject any offer of help, and even if it took 12 pieces of cheerio falling into the cracks of your seat before one piece hit your mouth, you were determined to do it yourself.  We've since managed a kind of compromise; you get plenty of Lila-friendly bites and in return you grudgingly let me slip a spoonful or two of yogurt or pears in your mouth before you take the spoon and fling the contents around the room.  It works.




You have the sweetest krinkle-nose smile - made even cuter by the six teeth occupying your mouth.  You love to make people laugh and will do silly tricks or little pop-pops with your mouth to elicit a smile.  You love to blow raspberries and you say mum-mum-mum and dah-dah-dah. 

As for your brother, River is still the center of your world and when he's gone (as he will be much more often now that he's starting preschool), you get bored and fussy.  Where's my brother?  Where's the fun guy?  Thankfully he's dealing with your mobility well.  We try to distract you enough for him to finish any building projects (which he's usually making for you - his demolition crew), and he is great about finding things for you to play with or trading toys when you've got something he wants.  I love seeing you together. I love knowing you will have a relationship that no one can touch.  I love that he protects you and I love that you look up to him so much. 



It's been a busy summer full of travel and lots of firsts (ice cream! eating sand!), and through it all you just keep growing and asserting that amazing personality of yours.  You are still the zen master of the house, but under that calm exterior is a fierce little fireball lying in wait.



I love you my perfect little girl,
Mama

first day of school

River gets ready to go to nursery school with all his gear - dinosaur backpack, dinosaur shirt, new sneakers.  (Oh, yeah, that is a carved pumpkin.  Thom took the kids apple/pumpkin picking last week and they got crafty this weekend.)

Proud mama and cute sister with the big guy

His very own cubby

River jumped right in.  Toni, his teacher hung out when I slipped away (and I didn't cry, I swear.  Okay, maybe a little).

Lila News: Five Months

Dear Lila,

Last week your Auntie Jenn visited us here in Cambridge and got to spend some quality snuggle time with you and your cheeks. She's simply in love with you and has vowed to only buy you pink frilly things. I'm happy to indulge her since, quite frankly, I love having a little girl to dress up. I mention your aunt because not only was she here when you turned five months old (AAAAAAHHHHH!!!! FIVE MONTHS!!!), but because she can attest to how different my experience of motherhood has been between you and your brother.


She saw me in my insane new-parent state when River was just a little older than you are now; she saw the hours and hours I spent sequestered in his room, singing and rocking and pleading with him to sleep. She saw me tip-toe out of his room, afraid to squeak the floorboards for fear he would wake; she saw me shush everyone near his room and watch his monitor with eagle eyes - dread on my face when that tale-tell squall eventually came letting us know we were doomed to spend ANOTHER half an hour locked behind closed doors trying to lull him to sleep.


And she has seen you. The first night she was in town we had just sat down to dinner and you gave a little whimper letting us know it was time for your nap. I went into your bedroom, laying you down and giving you a pacifier, and when I returned a minute or two later your Autie Jenn was wide-eyed with wonder. "That's it?" she said. "She's asleep?" And with more pride and gratefulness than I can possibly convey I said, "Yes. That's how Lila rolls."



In this past month you've started sleeping through the night, really sleeping through - from 9pm to 6 or 7am. In fact, at 3 years old your brother is now waking earlier and more often than you. You haven't taken any steps, you can't sit up on your own, and you're still working on rolling over, but when it comes to sleeping you've totally out-paced your brother.


As for River, you are totally in love. I've had to start nursing you in different rooms than him because if he's there you're too busy watching him to focus on eating. The love is mutual and he attacks you with hugs and kisses whenever you enter the room. When you're sad he strokes your head and says, "It's okay, Lila. It's okay." It's rare but there are moments of jealously, times when he wants us to leave you alone so I can keep playing with him. But as soon as you enter the room all is forgotten and you're back to basking in the light of his attention.


You are a little observer, watching the people around you so closely. Sometimes I feel guilty about how much you entertain yourself, chewing on a toy or keeping tabs on me or your dad, but I also feel good that I'm not constantly swinging a toy in your face or teaching you baby signs. In some ways River did (and still does) demand that kind of attention, but you seem perfectly content to watch the world most of the time. Your independence has allowed me to pick up sewing again much sooner than I imagined would be possible, and I spend lots of time working on new projects. You hang out on the playmate or bouncy seat while I make bibs or little shirts. It's an incredible gift to me - to feel like I have more to contribute than just motherhood, to allow me space to create and express myself. I can't thank you enough for that my little Lila Love.


As for milestones you are certainly hitting them. You're very sturdy - able to sit in the bumbo or carrier with nary a head wobble. I think you'll be sitting on your own soon, which will be very exciting for all of us. You grab at anything in front of you and we've had to instill a practice of keeping our drinks and plates out of your reach. You're rolling from back to side really well and a few times you've gotten from your belly to your back (an inelegant little flip flop was involved, but you did it!). You recognize your name and light up whenever I say it, and you've definitely started showing a preference for me over other caretakers. We just started you on solid food and while you seem happy to experiment with it, you are not yet a voracious eater.


Lila Jae, you are my little bumble-butt. You have made our home brighter and happier and you have made me a more mellow mom. There's a lovely balance between the extreme boy energy River brings and the sweet girl energy you have. You give us all the chance for cuddles, quiet reading, and silly-sweet bouncing games. I love you so much.


xoxo,
Mommy

first solids

Lila tasted her first solid food today, a bit of rice cereal, and seems to already have the knack for eating. She was thrilled to try something new and eagerly grabbed at the spoon to get more food to her mouth. I'm so proud of my little sweetie pie!