ToddlerTrail.com

As everyone in the real world knows, I’m 4 months and 1 week pregnant with twins.  Surprise!  This hasn’t run in my family for generations.  They are fraternal, measuring big for twins, and we don’t know the genders yet. 

During the first ultrasound, I saw the two dark spots and thought, “It can’t be.”  Before the technician said, “Do twins run in your family?”  I knew.  It all made sense as if some forgotten part of a story I’d already read had been remembered.  Of course, I’m expecting twins.

The ironic part is that in the OBGYN’s practice, which is not large, there are 12 women pregnant with twins.  The front desk gals and doctor agree that they’ve never seen a surge in twins quite like this.  The response I always get from people upon telling them this is that there’s something in the water.  And I really can’t help but wonder why so many women in the community are expecting twins?  Is it some kind of spiritual phenomena?  Is there really something in the water?  :)

The first trimester with twins was pure exhaustion.  I felt like I was walking around drunk.  Another mother of twins said it to me as well, that you feel like you’re living with a terrible hang over.  One of the main signs of the twin pregnancy was that I was starving even in the earliest weeks.  I was dazed and hungry and nauseous all at once. 

The second trimester looks like it’s going to go relatively smoothly so far.  While it is different in many ways from my first pregnancy, it’s a lot the same.  The main distinction is that I can feel so much more movement of the babies.  There was no fluttering or quickening, I can feel them turn over like at the end with my daughter.  The other strange event is that my back and hips ache.  It feels like they’re spreading, and God knows I don’t need any help in the hip width department.  It’s only at night while I’m trying to sleep that it hurts.  I keep pulling my husband over to me so I can lie on my side and throw a leg over him.  It helps so much.  He’s my most willing pregnancy pillow.

My biggest concern right now with having twins is taking care of my daughter once the twins come.  She’s a very active child, and she’s used to going out on her daily play dates and adventures.  I’m sure I’ll adapt to the jump from one to three children, but while the twins are newborns, this is going to be hard to pull off.  I have friends who are twins with an older sister, and I’m trying to ply them into asking their mother for advice.  This is where preschool should be my secret weapon, and I am seriously considering bumping her up to the four-day program if I can get her into it after Christmas.  I’m so glad we were able to start her in preschool before the twins come.  I’m due in March, and it is sure to be a very busy spring.

It’s been a while, I know.  Life has been a little busy in my world.

Buttercup has started preschool!  This was a huge step for us in a lot of ways.  She absolutely loves it, and there was not a tear or a frown.  I’m so thrilled with the teachers I want to kiss them every time I see them.  They feel like family:  all warmth and sweetness.  The preschool is so homey and comforting, and she is always talking about the teachers and her “best friends.”  It’s only a two-day week, and I am eyeing up the four day schedule with longing in my heart.  What a God sent blessing this is.

She comes home with adorable and usually seasonal projects.  So often for the last three years, it’s been us making projects to give to someone else like her daddy, grandparents, or friends.  Now, when I pick her up from school, she always has gifts in her cubby for me.  “This one is for you, Mommy!”  It thrills me.

We went to see quite a few preschools from the highest end to the lowest end.  There was a lot of variety.  How we decided on this preschool was just the recommendation of friends who have children there.  Everyone who spoke about the school raved about it.  It took lots of email and chitty-chat with the teachers, but I got her a place in the school.

The preschool has provided me with the first consistent break from motherhood I’ve had in three years.  While I’ve enjoyed being there for my little gal, it’s also a great comfort to have her in a school that reinforces the things we’ve taught her.  I have time to work during the days without needing Buttercup to be still sleeping, napping, or the husband home.  It’s a delight.

The best part is the school’s proximity to our house.  It’s very close by, and we walk there together and back.  She loves the little walk, and it’s so beautiful with the fall leaves and crisp morning air.  Thank God for the good teachers in her life.

One of our regular play dates is at a local church.  I always look forward to it.  There’s coffee for the mothers, a snack and craft for the kids, and ride on toys to race around the smooth tile floor of the basement.  I was doing childcare with the kids while the mothers discussed some things that needed to be ironed out.  I love watching all the kids.  I have two favorite things to do w/them.  The first is read to them. Those little faces all upturned, and their expressions slack-jawed with interest and absorption.  The second is to feed them.  I love all those greedy little hands raised up for more snacks.  My favorite is always the little kid who sits at the table the longest:  eating, eating, and eating.

While there, Buttercup ran up to a group of older boys who were playing tag.  She shouted out full throttle, “Let’s play hide and go seek!”  She loves to play hide and go seek.  How many hours have we spent with me walking around in circles calling her name while she prominently hides underneath a blanket in the middle of the room? 

The little boys did not want to play hide and go seek.  There was a ring leader to the group, and he yelled out, “We don’t want to play with you!”  Oh, my heart in my chest stopped, and I swiftly turned to look at her face.  How would she handle it?  I was expecting a stormy tearful event, but she just looked so quiet and still.

During the few seconds it took for me to feel my heart slowly start beating again, an adorable little girl that Buttercup is friends with stepped in and took her hand.  “Come on, let’s go!”  She and Buttercup ran away from those boys to go play together.  I could have kissed that little girl.  The sweetness, the happiness was back in Buttercup’s face, and it was her and her friend against the boys.  How often have my girlfriends brought me through tough challenges?  Well, Buttercup’s buddy is my new personal heroine.  I told my husband the story, and he said that the next time he saw Buttercup’s friend, he was going to give her chocolate, lots and lots of chocolate :)   Luckily for me, Buttercup and her friend are going to the same preschool in the fall.  Joy of joys.  I feel better knowing that she’ll have a friend on her side.

Our camera has been missing in action for a couple of weeks now.  I genuinely have no idea what happened to it.  What’s odd about the loss is that the camera bag sits empty on my desk.  We never take the camera out without the bag to protect it, as a certain little someone is prone to wanting to carry it for us.  So, it must be in the house, but still – I can’t find it.  I’m surprised by how much I miss being able to take photographs of my little gal.  That silly camera has brought me so much happiness.

While I talking to the husband about it, Buttercup went to her room and was rummaging through her toy box, and I could hear the toys flying around.  Buttercup came in with her little pink camera held high, and she said in her sweetest voice, “Mommy, you can use my camera.”  It’s a nice camera for someone her age, a Vtech Kidizoom Digital Camera, and she’s gotten so much use out of it and been rather possessive of it in the past.  In this time of life with her where sharing and taking turns has become the biggest test, I was so moved by her generous act.

It’s times like that where the tug of war over a doll at a play-date or the stomping of a foot over impatience slip into the background and this bighearted and thoughtful character shines through.  The terrible twos are such a trip, but there it is – that enormous kindness we’ve been working on cultivating right in the forefront.

I just read an article on BabyCenter with the topic of what’s the most offensive thing said to you as a parent?  The article was fun enough and centered on the common stay-at-home mom remark, “What do you do all day?”  As amusing as the question is having lived in the moment questioned, it is deeply offensive and addresses the stigma against SAHM’s.

The part that truly interested me was the comments by users answering the most offensive question.  It ranges so much – because, it’s not like SAHM’s are the only people with a reply.  It’s everyone.

Working mothers are targeted with the, “How can you let someone else raise your child?”  Stay-at-home fathers are hit with the gender degrading remarks I won’t even repeat about being bread-winners and filling traditionally female roles.  We’re all fair game.

While it looks like the majority of the painful remarks seem to play on the mother or father’s sense of guilt, some things are just plainly cruel and don’t even attempt to hide the jab.

“How do you feel knowing that someone else is playing Mommy to your child?”
This was said to me the first day I came back to work after maternity leave when my nerves were already shot, one hand was itching to grab the car keys and bolt over to the day care, and my other hand was very tempted to knock the living snot off of her smug face. That was the only time I’ve ever come close to hitting anyone.

Why would anyone say something like that to a mother struggling with leaving her child for the first time?  I’ve dealt with my fair share of lunacy but come on.  I still firmly believe that the vast majority of parents make decisions to benefit their families.  Call it naive, call it what you will - I still believe it.  “We judge other people by their actions.  We judge ourselves by our intentions.”

I’m an OB/GYN and I had just finished my residency when my son was born. I felt the best thing for all of us would be for me to take some time off to stay at home with him. A “friend” of ours who runs her own business, flies an airplane for fun, and parties all the time, (unmarried with no kids) told me flat out that she had lost all respect for me because I was “wasting my life.” We were at a lunch with a bunch of other girlfriends (I was the only married one there)and she said, “Thank God no one else has turned into a boring housewife with nothing to talk about except the price of eggs.” I was hurt and angry, but even then I didnt feel I should have to defend my choices to someone who obviously wasnt a real friend. Needless to say, I stopped hanging out with her after that. Incidentally, those other girlfriends are married and moms now, so when we all get together, we have a great time discussing the price of eggs :)

That’s actually touching on a nerve.  Finally, when the long physically exhausting months of pregnancy are over, you have a baby, you lose so many friends.  I lost a huge circle of people, partly on purpose, I admit, to the isolated nunnery of a nursery. Motherhood changes things, after all.  All the same, it didn’t change my intelligence.  It may have changed everything else, but I still am a relatively functioning person – not a price of eggs discussing kind of gal, unless it is the topic at hand.  Much like the weather or whatever else is being conversed about: I’m kind of open to discussion.

Thank God I’ve been blessed with employers who had the breadth of mind to allow me to work at home.  I’ve been able to avoid the whole issue with a smartly arched eyebrow and reply of, “I work from home as a copywriter.”  It’s honestly one of the reasons I’ve worked so hard to be the best I can be – maybe better than I was before my daughter, to prove I can be a SAHM and a working mother all in one glorious chaotic bundle.  I don’t want to be vulnerable to attack.  Still, all the same, why should this even be an issue?  We all want to live our own lives.  Our children should be raised in the unique environment that is our personal culture.  Diversity has always been a battlefield, and I think it always will be.

While we were on vacation, my mother-in-law gave Buttercup a Corelle doll.  It’s Lila, the interactive model.  She cries, laughs, coos, and makes sucking sounds.  It’s absolutely charming.

Buttercup has never had a baby doll that makes the sounds the way this one does.  She has become an absolute little mother.  If Lila is lying on her stomach, she cries and cries.  (The sounds aren’t loud or jarring – all the same, thank God for the off-switch in the back of the doll!)  Buttercup picks her up and pats her gently to soothe her.  I think the pacifier she came with quiets her down, too.  If I were expecting another baby, I’d say that Lila is a great way to introduce the idea of a newborn’s habits to a sibling.

We already have a bunch of the Corelle doll accessories – the playpen, the stroller, the bottle and feeding sets.  It was a dream come true for her to actually get Lila.  I had bought the Corelle accessories for her other dolls, and now Lila feels right at home here :)  I almost feel guilty about the other dolls being neglected!

My mother in law has had the doll for some time, and she’s been making the most exquisite dresses for Lila by hand.  They’re beautiful – with lace edges and all kinds of beautiful seaming.  So, when she presented Buttercup with Lila – there was a full set of clothes ready for Buttercup’s eager little hands to explore and tug onto the doll.  I really think it’s a great doll baby for her to get used to the idea that babies cry, they need to be fed, and their diapers need to be changed.  Already, we’ve changed the doll’s clothes more times than I can count.

The Corelle product information says the dolls and the clothes she came with are machine washable, and I’m hoping we can keep Lila for a very long time.  The doll has a soft scent too.  She actually smells like a baby.  Apparently, Lila won the Oppenheim Best Toy Platinum Seal, and the Corelle dolls are generally parent pleasers.  She keeps Buttercup busy, and what else can you ask for in a doll baby?

We finally got Buttercup a pair of rain boots.  I have firmly decided that rain boots are the most wonderful product for children.

We bought them while we were on vacation.  We went to a Disney store, and she was having a blast – fascinated by all the adorable products.  They had two pairs of rain boots on sale – Daisy Duck or Tigger & Pooh.  Rather than pick from the boots on sale, she spotted a pink pair of Minnie Mouse boots.  Those were the ones we ended up getting, and she loves them.

While we were on vacation, it rained quite a bit, and she was thrilled to be stomping away in the puddles – reveling in the splash factor.  Now, everywhere we go, she has her eyes open for puddles.  I might just let her wear the rain boots for the rest of April everywhere we go.  It’s been raining almost every other day, and the puddles can be found anywhere.  The parking lots seem to have the most, and there’s a church parking lot down the street from us that’s always empty.  She’s been soaked and muddy every night, just the way an April toddler should be.  I swear, the muddier and dirtier she is at bedtime these days, the better I feel about my parenting.  The great outdoors are back in play, and I cannot say I’m sorry to see January – March go.

I find myself wishing I had a pair of rain boots to stomp with her :)  Maybe I’ll find a pair in mommy-size so I can be a puddle-stomping mommy with my little gal.

When I was pregnant, I would go to toy stores often to search for those handfuls of items worthy of a place in the nursery.  During these excursions, I began to examine the mother’s w/their children in light of the pending arrival of my own.  So often, they were frazzled.  Dragging kids out of the store kicking and screaming, sternly telling a child to put a toy back, negotiating deals to avoid tantrums.  We’re a certain kind of people - the mothers of young children.

It looks like almost all of us have dark circles under our eyes and exhaustion in our backs.  Most of us need a make over.  It’s remarkable, and especially in terms of appearance, there’s usually this lack of make-up or presentation that is entirely lovely in a simple almost austere or modest way.  Maybe it’s because we spend so much of our time in the company of women and children, but there is this childlike return to play clothes, sneakers, and pony tails.

The part I dislike in myself is the speed of my thoughts.  Living with a 2 ½ year old, my thoughts are driven in the second to second range.  Completion of my thoughts is rare, and I guard my quiet time where I can relish a wholly formulated thought.  I try and constantly write, I must always be writing or else I couldn’t see my circumstances clearly, so subjective and close up is this minute to minute existence.

The group of women that I’ve become close friends with grows by bounds every month.  I’m not by nature a social person, but it’s with these women that I think I’ve found something close to a childhood friendship – maybe even comparable to the dear friend you had when you were 13 and figuring out how to put make-up on.  The intimacy of that relationship cannot be underestimated, and on some levels, we’re all learning to become wives and mothers together.

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever had this many close friends.  The other day, I organized a play date at the FABULOUS local ice cream store, and we took over the whole place.  I stood back for a moment looking at us all with the kids raising holy hell and the mothers chatting each other up about the world at large, and I was so thrilled because we’re in the same boat and for the most part trying to keep each other afloat.  It’s a powerful thing, and I don’t think I could do it without them.

My grandmother gave us a bread maker for my anniversary, and I have been baking bread almost everyday since.

My mother and great-grandmother are/were the spectacular bread makers in the family.  My great-grandmother’s bread was the most fabulous light sweetness I’ve ever eaten in my life.  My mother makes wide varieties of breads, and I was raised with it in the house all through the cold months.  White homemade bread with butter and honey remains my favorite thing to eat when I need comfort.

There’s something spiritual about making bread for my family.  Despite the technology of the bread-maker, I feel like I’m doing something that generations and generations of women have done to take care of their family.  I’m prone to drifting away into my imagination, and I love to think of that while Buttercup and I measure the ingredients carefully into the basin.  It’s like I’m helping my great grandmother squeeze out perfect rolls of dough again, and for a minute, she’s with me again.

So far I’ve made honey wheat, white, three-cheese, parmesan peppercorn, cinnamon and raisin, and a rustic Italian loaf.  It’s delicious.  The honey wheat makes the most tempting French toast.  The cinnamon raisin is good for that, too.  It’s a good thing I joined the Y, or I’d be in great danger of getting a little more wiggle in my jiggle.

I want to make stuffing and bread pudding with the leftovers.  Next, I’m going to try my hand at pizza dough and someday soon – I’m going to attempt to make soft homemade pretzels :)

While I can’t quite make bread by hand as well as my mother or great-grandmother, I can do a decent job.  With the bread maker, it’s so much less time consuming that I can make all the bread for the house.  Considering the cost of a decent loaf of wheat, I’m happy to do this.  You can even use powered vitamin C as a preservative.  How much healthier is that than the alternative?  I can’t wait to go to the farmer’s market and check out the local flours available.

The idea that I would like weight training is as bizarre to me as it is to the people who know me well.  While I love taking walks, playing at the park, and enduring the sit-ups that hurt my neck, I’ve always regarded weight-training equipment as something of phallic expression of masculine strength ;)

The husband and I joined our local YMCA.  I’ve been wanting to do something like this for a long time, and it’s working out well.  I had gone to another gym, and it wasn’t for me.  There were a lot of large muscular men there who freaked me out a little bit, as big men have a tendency to do to me.  At the Y, it’s an entirely different dynamic.  During the day, when I go, it’s just me and the older gentlemen and ladies.  Apparently, weight training is popular for older people who need rehab for injuries or just to build their strength.  Well, I fit right in with them, and I don’t feel self-conscious at all, which is what I was primarily worried about.

The equipment is amazing, because so far - I haven’t hurt myself.  I was in three car accidents almost in a row as a teenage gal between myself and gal friends learning to drive.  I have a tendency to hurt my back, neck, and shoulders often and painfully.  The equipment doesn’t hurt me, which I thought it would.  I love it.  In fact, it seems designed to avoid injury.  The extremely built gentleman who showed me how to use the equipment promised me it wouldn’t make me big and bulky, but leaner and stronger.  He also said that it would make my metabolism sky-rocket, and I’d loose weight as I went along.

After I work out there, I have this incredible high.  I had no idea that exercise did this to you, but it’s this wonderful feeling of strength and accomplishment that blend into the whole day.  I want to go everyday of the week.  Who knew?

The best part is that they have an amazing children’s center where Buttercup can play while I work out.  She’s been doing pretty well with being away from me, and she’s lasted about an hour and a half both times until she told the teacher to come and get me, which I told her to do when she wanted me.  I’m totally impressed with her for handling being away from me.  I can see the window of the play room from the weight room, and I think this might be a really good way to ease her into being apart from me without any painful issues.

I’m really hopeful this will not only make me stronger and leaner, but that little beauty will benefit as well.  They also have a Mommy and Me swim class that I want to get us into…I went ahead and bought bathing suits today for it.  Here’s hoping my mommy weight training at the YMCA turns into a positive thing for the whole family.

For her age, my girl has always been physically advanced as compared to the so-called milestones of childhood.  She’s always been a baby on a mission, and I’ll never ever forget how the first time I held her, a few hours after she’d been born, her little neck was strong.  She couldn’t quite hold it up on her own, but I could feel the strength in it.  I’ve held lots of babies, but she was born with this incredible vitality.

How things have changed - and now, she’s climbing, jumping, running, leaping through the world.  When we were last on the playground, she climbed to the top of the rock-wall on the big kid’s playground.  She’s such a sturdy confident little person.

My brother told me when he was here last; he’d been terrified she was going to fall when she was romping on her slide.  I told him, “She never falls, she never has.”  It’s true, too.  She might take a leap in a direction she shouldn’t, but she’s never been one to fall down, even as a wee little gal.  All her movements are intentional.

It’s because of this that I think raising her has always been what my father would likely call watchful waiting.  She’s always excelled, and I’ve tried to allow her the room to try things out on her own.  While my heart may be pounding in my chest while she’s conquering her latest mountain, I have to stand back and hold myself still to give her that freedom to try the world on for size.  She’s so relentlessly brave, bold, and audacious.  It’s so challenging to temper that without damaging it.  I want her to become that as a woman - that alive and fearless.

There are handfuls of people that I consider prominent in our little world.  We found a new one the other day at the park.  It was the DUCK FOOD MAN!  He apparently comes early in the morning to fill up the food dispensers for our fun.  Buttercup was amazed by this whole process, saying over and over again, “Mommy, what’s he doing?”  One of the other little ones dashed right up to his bucket of pellets and tried to grab a few handfuls.  Little cuties.

He was so nice to us, and he counted the children there and handed out nickels to them all, which is the coin the dispenser takes.  Buttercup was thrilled beyond belief, and she danced around holding her nickels up high like they were prizes.

One of the other mother’s says that the ducklings come in April, and I just can’t wait to see Buttercup’s reaction to that.  I am dying waiting for spring, but I think it’s coming early.  It will be a summer spent at the park underneath the wide shade of the evergreens, picnics, ducks, and blowing bubbles.  Let spring come - we’re ready for it.

My little brother, who is now such a grown-up, has been coming to see us a lot.  I’ve missed him, and he happens to be my baby brother - I worry about him in the way that I worry about everyone I love dearly, which is to say constantly.  He’s a good boy, and I think despite his towering height and maturity, I still see him as a little boy.  I try very hard not to treat him as such, since he’s still at that age where he wants to be taken very seriously :)

He’s always been amazingly good with children.  They flock to him.  Buttercup is no exception; I was having a stroke while he tossed her up into the air, twirled her around the room, and generally raised hell with her.  By the time he left, she was so hyped up she was in a tizzy.

While I was watching them play, I was realizing how much alike they look.  When he was a baby, he was this ball of blonde curls and blue eyes peeking out.  He really was the cutest baby.  I think she looks a bit like him :)

The pistachios worked.  There was a squirrel in that cage in less than two hours.  If you’re having problems luring a squirrel, use my nut of choice - pistachios.

My husband, with great amusement, took the squirrel up to a nearby mountain and dropped him off in the woods.  When he returned, it was to rounds of applause from me.  My hero, my knight - defeating the mighty squirrel.

My story gets better.  Upon his arrival home, we went into the closet to check things out.  The squirrel only has access to a garret above the closet.  He’s not in the whole attic - just that one garret.  I banged on the ceiling and immediately heard a scratching squirrel panic.  There’s still a little effer in there.  My poor beloved husband began laughing hysterically.  I began laughing hysterically.  His sense of humor has saved me so many, many times.  I don’t think I would’ve made it without him laughing next to him.

At this point, I’m wondering exactly how many of our beautiful city’s squirrels we are going to have to take to mother nature before we catch the RIGHT squirrel.  I really don’t know that I care anymore.  In fact, when I saw the little effer in the cage, I felt so bad for him I almost wanted to cry.  He’s just a fluffy tailed squirrel with a passion for nuts :)  I told Daddy to leave him a handful of nuts where he dropped him off - just in case that he didn’t know how to survive without the city at his disposal.  God help me.

Usually, I am a generally sane kind of gal.  I have my sobbing over cheap love songs kind of moments, but I’m mostly okay.

The squirrel is driving me effing crazy.

Now, I think what I need at this stage in the game is a bubba.  I need some brawny man to come kill him a squirrel.  My husband says he’s developed an affection for the squirrel in the way arch-rivals ultimately become tangled up together.  He compared the squirrel to Lex Luther :)

So, we have gotten a trap that some brawny man at Lowe’s recommended.  It’s a Have-a-Heart trap, and honestly, I was expecting something a little more deadly.  What in God’s name am I going to do with a squirrel in a trap?  I mean, are we supposed to pick this trap up with enraged squirrel in it and take our city squirrel to the woods?  Do we put it in the trunk?  I’m going to need falconer gloves or something.  I really do not like squirrels.  I never have.  They freak me out to no end.  They twitch too much - they’re volatile!

Despite my hopes that someone would bring over a BB gun and end this madness, I think we’re setting the trap tomorrow with some kind of nuts in it.  I have pistachios in house.  The part that pushed me over the edge is when I began wondering if I should shell them for the squirrel :)

Little beauty and I made tents all over the house yesterday.  We had so much fun hiding underneath the blankets and sheets.  It felt like being a child again.  When my brother and nephew and I were kids, we’d turn my mother’s living room into a completely unusable space covered in her sheets and curtains.  How she put up with us, I’ll never know ;)

As delightful as it all was, it did not end smoothly.  Buttercup was fixing the roof of her little toddler tent, and I was getting another sheet to expand it.  I came back into the room, and she was standing on the couch with a wicked little sparkle in her eyes.  The sheet was draped over the couch and pulled taunt to the top of my exercise mat that made the walls for her little pretend house.  The sheet must have just looked too inviting, because she leaped from the couch and into the sheet like it would catch her - landing on the floor with a resounding thud.  This all happened in slow motion, and the expression on her face was pure unadulterated joy right before she hit the wood floor.  She was fine, she barely even cried, but my heart - I truly think children are what age us.  She’s a heart-attack a minute.

Later, I told the husband about it, and he laughed and asked me, “Aren’t you a little proud of her?  She’s an adventurer.”  Now, even though I scolded her and told her that she couldn’t take flying leaps off the couch, I am kind of proud of her :)  I think she knew that jumping off the couch into a sheet wasn’t a good idea, but she did it anyway because it looked like fun.  While it wasn’t a good choice as her little knees learned, she’s a fearless little person filled with this incredible passion for testing out life and limits.  In a way, I am so proud of her for being filled with such spirit and daring audacity even when it doesn’t work out the way she planned.  She’s a saucy little thing, and I cannot imagine where she gets it from considering her parents :)

One of my friends just had a new baby, and she also has a 20 month old toddler.  We were on a big play date yesterday, and it was pretty clear that this is not an easy thing to pull off gracefully.  She had absolutely no hands free when she was trying to get the children back into the car.  In one of her hands was the handle for the newborn’s car seat, and in the other hand, she was hanging onto the toddler tightly.  She had the diaper bag over her shoulder and a sippy cup that she’d almost forgotten tucked under her arm.  I helped her the best I could, hanging onto Buttercup’s hand, and of course she did fine.  All the same, she had that panicked look that most sleepless new mothers have.

During the play date, she admitted, “I have to do my first Wal-Mart trip today.”  Everyone had something to say about that:  going to Wal-Mart with the kids is a nightmare acknowledged by all.  Personally, I let my husband go to Wal-Mart, and I only go to grocery stores with Buttercup.  I cannot do the panicked frenzy of people and carts and screaming toddler that Wal-Mart generally offers.  I cannot imagine how the mom in question is going to do it, but I am sure she’ll pull it off somehow.  In retrospect, I really should have offered to go with her.  How on earth will she unload the groceries by herself with the toddler and newborn in play?  There have to be more mommy-teams to get things like that done during the day.  I don’t think you can ever have enough hands as a mother.

Despite the chaos of the world in general appearing to fall apart around us, I am finding happiness in the little things.  Not to be repetitive, but the ballet class is truly the best thing that could have happened to us.

I have a total “I wish I was like that” crush on the ballerina who teaches the class.  She’s so imaginative with the kids, and to say she is graceful is a gross understatement.  Today, she passed out laminated paper keys and danced around the room with us.  We all reached up high to try to open the illusionary tall door, crouched low to try and open the pretend little door, and finally we succeeded in opening the unseen middle sized door.  I think I may or may not be losing my mind, but the music, the imagination, the flying around the room on my tip-toes pretending to be a bird - what adults get to do that?

I think the beauty of ballet might be celebrating the capability of the body to arch.  I have no idea what I’m talking about, but that is what it looks and feels like to me.

I think it’s partly because there are just women in the class that I feel so free to dance around trying to mimic the graceful ballerina with my clumsy limbs or maybe I have stopped caring.  I’m not sure, but it’s a delight. 

Today, Buttercup and I pretended to be a bird, a frog, a butterfly, and we learned to do plies.  Motherhood is the most beautiful excuse for learning to pretend again.

We took our first ballet class today, and Buttercup is officially enrolled in the Academy of Ballet.  I am thrilled.

The class was wonderful.  The teacher taught the little ones how to sit properly for posture and balance, she began foot exercises with them to start strengthening their little toes for tip-toeing about, and curtsying, and how to pirouette….It was so beautiful.

Personally, I’m so absolutely blissful about doing this with her.  The teacher is the most gracious beautiful woman, and I’m thinking - if for nothing else, something she focuses on is how to carry yourself, and it’s a good thing for a girl to know how to do.  I get to do all the exercises with her, and it felt glorious spinning, bending, and reaching.  I cannot wait to take her shopping for her outfit :)

The walking weather is sneaking back into our life, and I’m thrilled.  I’ve got to get stronger again.  It’s been a long winter stuck between the walls with Buttercup.

We walked around downtown for two hours yesterday.  It’s strange how having an adorable child gives everyone license to talk to you.  I’m naturally anti-social, and I prefer to be left alone for the most part.  My husband says I want to be alone in a room in a house full of people, and he’s absolutely right.

Anyway, I think five people stopped to talk to us and tell Buttercup they liked her scarf, sunglasses, or sparkly shoes.  She really has a certain sense of style.  She loves her accessories, and she piles on plastic bracelets, hair bows, mommy’s socks, and a pair of glittery shoes like a bizarre fashionista.  Everyday is a dress-up party.

The folks at our local toy store were chatting us up, and the girl stopped to tell another patron that Buttercup always wore sparkly shoes.  I kind of paused and realized that for the past year and a half or so, she’s been wearing red or silver sparkly shoes.  She adores them.  When we were in downtown, a woman leaned down and said, “I like your shoes!  They’re pretty.”  Buttercup, in her turn, smiled and said, “I know,” in her singsong voice.  She’s truly toddling down the baby catwalk!