ToddlerTrail.com

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!

The period of time when I worked as a florist was an exquisite time of my life.  It came briefly after a series of catastrophic events in my personal life, and I think it was a gift to get me through.  In retrospect, I think the flowers saved me.

I loved it.  I worked on an elevated area where I watched the coming and goings in the storefront.  Usually, either young folks looking for corsages, happy couples planning their weddings, or families who had just suffered a death were coming in.  It was an intensely strange dynamic - as the need for flowers can be the best or worst of occasions.  It gave me an immediate and intimate look at human nature.

My hair always smelled like lilies -  Asiatic lilies remain my favorites.  They stood all around the room in 5-gallon buckets waiting to be arranged.  They have a strong scent while the cultivated roses are simply raised now for their appearance and longevity.  Somehow, most lilies have escaped that fate and remain fragrant with the ability to bruise easily.  I could make a thousand metaphors about that, but I won’t here.

There was a very experienced florist there who taught me how to care for the cut flowers.  Roses were the most demanding.  The protective petals of the roses had to be removed; the thorns shaved away, the stem threaded with wire to keep the head of the rose upright as long as possible.  The stem of the rose must be cut at an angle and immediately put into water or it will form a barrier that prevents absorption of the water solution.  She taught me the names of all the plants we used:  delphinium, alstroemeria, larkspur, statice, allium, and so many varieties of roses and greenery I can’t even begin to mention.  Soon, all the flowers were easily nameable as I related their scents and textures to their genre and names.

The calla lilies were one of my favorites.  All the pollen inside of them had to be shaken out so it would not spoil a bride’s dress in a single instance.  You cannot imagine how particular I was about the flowers for my own wedding ;)

My favorite part of the day was the very end.  On the floor below the table where we worked was a pile inches deep of discarded blossoms and leaves and stems.  No one ever wanted to sweep up, but I jumped at the chance.  I swept and swept until the entire room erupted in scent.  I always saved the flowers that weren’t quite perfect enough for our arrangements and brought them home with me for my mother’s table and my bedroom.

It still remains a passion of mine - creating that impermanent art.  I would love to go to Japan simply to study ikebana.  Floral arrangement really is an art and a gift.  In a way, I found it be some kind of community service - a gift to people in the happiest and saddest moments of life.  It still soothes me no matter what circumstances I happen to be in.

Valentine’s Day always makes me wish to be in the shop again with the hundreds and hundreds of red, pink, and white roses piled up on every available surface.  I’ve put a little money aside for Buttercup and I to decorate the entire house with flowers for the week leading up to Valentine’s Day.  I cannot wait to show her that, and I think it will be a good project for her leading up to Valentine’s Day.

When I was a little girl, my grandmother always took me to a park near her old house.  There was a duck pond and a playground.  We used to stand on a bridge to drop leaves in a stream and watch them come out on the other side of the bridge over and over again.  These memories are some of the fondest I have.

With Buttercup, one of my favorite things to do is take her to our local park, feed the ducks, and play on the equipment.  The last time we were there, we dropped sticks and leaves in the stream for a long time - just watching them reappear on the other side of the bridge.

I know this is not an unusual pastime, but I think one of the primary reasons I delight in days like that with her are simply to recreate the best memories of my childhood.  I wonder how much of that affects how we parent - whether trying to recreate or avoid memories from our own childhoods.

We’ve been vacationing in the same beach town for several years now.  It’s close to my in-laws home, and it’s your classic East coast beach town.  When I was a little girl, twice a year, we went to visit my father’s mother in Cape Cod.  Cape Cod remains one of my favorite places in the world.  If I had to pick a place to retire, it’d be on the Cape in the same town where my grandmother lived.  I wonder if for Buttercup, the beach town my husband’s family lives near will be the same way.  Will she have the same kind of sandy and seashell ridden memories I have?

None of these are really extraordinary or uncommon pastimes, but I can’t help but think I try and put the best part of my childhood into hers.

At last, we had a truly gorgeous snow.  The entire world was frosted with it.

The day was so strange.  That morning, we went to the park with some friends and stayed for four hours.  It was almost 60 degrees.  We had a picnic, played on the swings and slides, fed the ducks, and took a walk collecting our beloved pine cones.  (I currently have more pine cones than I know what to do with…)

By the time we came home, it was so warm and fresh outside, I threw open the windows and doors to air out the house.  This is one of the things I hate the most about the heat of summer and the coldest months of winter - the house is always so closed up.  I can’t stand it.  So, I jumped at this chance to welcome the outdoors inside.  The dramatic change in weather only took a few minutes.  I could see it coming - the clouds looked serious.  All of the sudden, there was this incredibly frigid wind, and the temperature dropped like a rock.  It was almost apocalyptic.

After bath time, the snow was coming down in great white sheets.  I bundled her up, and we stood on the balcony in it.  It was lovely.

The next day, we went on a play date down the road, and there was a snowball fight, lots of rolling around in the snow, and general winter fun.  She was furious when I finally had to drag her inside - kicking, screaming, and soaked, I might add.  The terrible twos are definitely kicking it up a notch.

I can’t imagine childhood without snow.  I know lots of people do it and love it, but I can’t imagine not having sled rides, snow ball fights, and all the fun of being a kid in the snow.

I suppose one of the greatest gifts of being a mother is the opportunity to show the world to your children and make it beautiful:  the snow, the flowers, the trees, the sky, books, and foods - all these miraculous things.  A snow day with a little toddler just makes that task so easy :)