For the Grandmas: An Update on the Littles

My babes

They grow and change so fast.  Here's my attempt to capture some of it before it's gone.

Love with Mom

 Grace:

• At 1:30 in the morning when EVERYONE ELSE WAS ASLEEP IN THE ENTIRE CAMP, and as we are lying in a tent on basically the ground she yells, “This isn’t camping!  I didn’t ride a horse!” 
• We never mentioned one thing about riding a horse while camping.
• At a well-baby check for Lillian, we pulled up to the doctor’s office and Grace says, “Oh!  Are we going to see my baby dock-er"      “ Yes, but it’s Lillian’s turn today.”    “Oh.  Is she gonna borrow it?”
• “Be nice to are-chudder!” = Be nice to each other.
• If she is allowed to stay in the bath long enough, she will find a way to get to some out-of-reach hygiene product (i.e. shampoo, conditioner, baby wash…) and she will empty the entire bottle before you even know that she’s been too quiet for too long.
• She loves her hair to be in one French Braid. 
• If you use the wrong color of rubber band, she WILL come unglued.
• Absolutely refuses to wear pants.  She is currently sleeping in a t-shirt and undies because her one night gown was dirty.
• When hurt will asks for a rubber band.
• She means band-aide.
• She loves “fork oranges” which is the name she gave to mandarin oranges because she eats them with a fork.
• She has gotten very good at asking for things politely.
• Is pretty good at sharing and is working on Good Listening.
• If the next door neighbor isn’t able to play, that is grounds for a severe melt down on the neighbor’s porch.  Every time.
• Her idea of a hysterical joke is to tell me that she is a Princess and I am a King.

Sleeping in a sling at the temple

Lillian:

• Is extremely opinionated.
• Is fluent in growl and grunt and scream.
• Growl and grunting= super happy Lillian. 
• Has had her eager grunting conversation mistaken as a B.M.
• Has two teeth.
• Has an enormous open mouth smile.
• Is super happy with other people until her mom walks into the room.
• Loves to try to touch whatever her big sister is doing.
• Pulls the blanket over her face to sleep every night.
• Will command the attention of an entire Sunday School lesson with her grunting conversation.
• Will command it again when she falls asleep during Sunday School and then snores loudly.
• Sleeps through the night.
• LOVES to be strapped to her Mommy in a sling.
• Gets her legs caught between the slats on the crib every day.
• Pounds her feet on the crib mattress for fun.
• Is very excited by the plastic mat we have under our computer chair and slaps it with glee regularly.
• Can only crawl backwards and pivot in circles.
• Finds herself extremely frustrated that she can’t seem to move her body forward yet.

Growling at :43

Too Much Information

Grace is complex.  As every child is.  You see, I held off potty training as long as I could but when the child woke up with dry diapers every morning, practically took herself to the bathroom, and though she did not change her own pants she removed the the soiled ones from her bum (sick), I decided I could put it off no longer.  So we bought a potty seat, a stool, a chart, some stickers, and some undies, and for two days she was absolutely flawless.  She’s going to be an easy one!  I thought.

Dead wrong.

After proving that she was capable, it became a small war to convince her that she should.  I tried everything: charts, treats, candy, stickers, small prizes, big prizes, no prizes, celebration phone calls to uncles and grandmas, praise, guilt, ignoring, undies, pull-ups, buck nekkid for DAYS, putting her back in diapers, consistency, enthusiasm, nonchalance, rationalization, compassion, natural consequences (superior diaper rash mixed with eczema) and then eventually—though I, too, have read all those same websites as every other mother—anger, then LOTS of anger, then tears because of the anger.   All to no avail. 

But I believe I can say after 5 long, super-gross months, Grace Sandra Grace Herrick(as she refers to herself) is officially potty trained.  The final nail in the coffin after FIVE MONTHS of civil war, you ask?  Making her clean up her own mess.  (Thank you, Mother.) Totally did the trick.  It was no longer interesting to see not only WHERE she could leave a mess, but what Mom’s reaction was going to be THIS time. She found out how  disgusting it was to clean up, how complicated it was for her two-year old motor skills to do it without creating more mess and getting on herself, and that no matter how long it took, or if her sister was screaming, she was going to do every bit of it.  And it was no longer worth it to continue to ignore the fact that she was PERFECTLY capable of performing this grown-up function.  Hallelujah.  Those were some of the grossest months of my life.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: In my own parenting experience, nothing has been as disgusting as potty training.

Life....

Above: This is what I can make my life look like in pictures sometimes.
Below:  A story about what life is ACTUALLY like most times.

I was talking on the phone with Katie the other evening.  I was explaining that Grace was going through a challenging phase. Then I got off the phone, and a few minutes later had to call Katie back to explain to her exactly what “challenging” had just looked like.  This is basically what I told her.

I had taken Grace to the bathroom every 20 minutes for the last hour.  She did not once use the toilet.  We went outside.  I was on the phone.  A few minutes later, I see that while she is sitting outside under the neighbors front steps, she has mud all over her upper lip.  How strange.  Then I watched her pick up a plastic orange cup filled with dirt, bring it to her mouth and back down to her lap, and then begin chewing on something.

“Grace! Are you eating dirt?!?!”

“No, I’m drinking it.  And watching TV.  It’s my water.”

And sure enough, she was ingesting soil.  I grabbed her out of the dirt because what is cute at 9 months is not cute at 32.  On the way out of the dirt, I noticed she was also sitting in mud and had a bum covered in mud, but only in the spot where she would have just wet her pants.

Pee mud.   

Awesome.

So, Katie, that’s what I mean when I say challenging.

The Littlest of My Littles

Lillian

·         Lillian is a chatty little thing

·         Lillian will share a huge, open-mouth smile with just about anyone who pays her attention

·         If she is crying she wants one of 5 things

o   Bottle

o   Nap

o   Pacifier

o   Swaddle

o   Cuddle

·         Quickest way to dry Lil’s tears is to swaddle her and pop in her bink

·         Lillian has a flat spot on the back-left side of her head

·         I can finally get her to sleep on other parts of her head so that maybe it’s not quite so flat forever

·         Her hair is straight, brown, and two inches long on the top of her head

·         It’s only ½ long on the sides

·          Her eyes are dark blue

·         She has deliciously chunky rolls all over her legs and arms

·         Lillian likes to sing

·         Lillian likes to be read to

·         She found her fists this week

·         She learned how to play with toys this week

·         Her favorite way to fall asleep is swaddled, bink-ied, and laying on the floor watching mom and Grace play

·         Lil likes raspberries and tickles on her neck

·         She is 25 inches long

·         Lillian is absolutely the most happy when she is in the bath

·         Lillian has already had 3 colds

·         Her preferred nick names are Lil (mom), Lil-lil(Grace), Lilly(Dad), and Chunka-Monka Bay-bey (Mom)

·         When Lil is sad, she rubs her feet together

·         Mostly, Lil is happy

Remember...

My Gracie-girl

Life only looks picturesque

Know how I know that?

Cuz in that precious picture up there, I know that Grace has completely soiled undies.

But I wanted that picture anyway, cuz I love my girl

Accidents and all

Things I love—or at the very least should remember—about Grace:

·         When she feels a little self-conscious or silly, she talks with her bottom lip pulled over her bottom teeth

·         She likes to read the picture version of the Book of Mormon

·         Her prayers are NEVER more than four sentences long

o   Dear Heavenly Father

o   Thank you for the day

o   Thank you for Jesus (or everybody or Lillian or Addy)

o   In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen

·         She’s figured out that if she tells you that you skipped a part of her lullaby, you’ll re-sing that part

·         Bribing only works sometimes

·         She loves Lillian

·         She falls off of furniture all the time

·         If that child does not get an afternoon snack, her sugar drops and she is a MESS

·         She’ll only try new food if a Disney princess also eats it

·         She always wants to know who gave her each of her things

·         She snuck into the fridge and ate about 30 olives yesterday

·         She calls bobby pins “barbie pins”

·         She gets a dinosaur vitamin every morning as long as she lets me do her hair

·         She loves Dora toothpaste

·         She loves when I have “Someping Fecial” (Something Special) to tell her or show her

·         She wears shoes as infrequently as possible

·         She puts on tutus and costume jewelry every single day

·         She is a sucker for a Princess Crown

·         Her favorite movie is “Punchback”  (Hunchback of Notre Dame)

·         She likes to put stickers on paper and then promptly rip them all back off

·         She loves to paint but only if it’s acrylic—crayola watercolor is cheap

·         She loves hamburgers and French fries and could eat them till she keeled over

·         Friends/cousins are her favorite part of life—and her uncles

·         She loves nursery and wears a “Princess Dress” every single week

·         She likes to put on makeup in the morning with Mom

·         Anytime she’s into something she shouldn’t be, she’ll explain that she was “Helping You” (i.e. cut her hair, pick up Lillian, open bottles at the store, put battery operated toys in the bath)

·         If it is “Far-ka-ly” (sparkly) she is probably going to love it

·         If it has a butterfly, she’s probably going to love it

·         She loves to do dishes

·         She always has to touch the food on other people’s plates

·         Telling her you want to hold her is the quickest way to stop her crying

·         She loves riding on your back like a horse

·         She wants to get married in the temple

·         She wants to marry Repunzel

·         She doesn’t really like to exercise with mom, but she’ll do it every time if it means she can have a sip of hot chocolate (protein drink)

·         She can’t keep hot chocolate and chocolate milk straight to save her life

·         She spends all her time climbing up and down the stuff at the park but avoids all the slides

·         She loves, loves, loves playing in dirt—in her tutu

Just a Thought

Sometimes this happens.  

Yes, that is the mattress and those are the couch cushions on top of every single toy we've ever owned on the floor.

Yesterday my mind was a torrential downpour of stuff:  Things to do, worries, stresses, expectations, new goals, plan changes, some gratitude, disappointments, befuddlements, and so on—though I am not sure about the “and so on” part.  I think that list caught everything.  So add the “and” before befuddlements and cross out the “and so ons.”  No need to be mellow-dramatic.

And as Paul and I kneeled to say our evening prayer, I could feel the insomnia setting in.  It’s a curse I share with lots of worriers and over-thinkers out there.  And it all just tumbled around in my brain, but not with the grace of damp clothes in a dryer, or even the jittery movements of ping-pong balls in a lottery game thingy, but with the frantic desperation of a kid in a money machine trying desperately to grasp at bills that have no sort of predictable movement.

So after we finished our couple prayer, I prayed my own prayer on paper.  “Dear Heavenly Father,”  I wrote.  “There’s a lot of stuff in here right now that I need to talk to you about.”  And then I made eight categories on my paper and every time a thought blew around in there I caught a glimpse of it, wrote some short hand version of it under its appropriate category, hoping that God would know the whole story behind the three word condensed version, and moved on to the next frantically flying dollar bill.

Can we just say that by the time I was done, if my thoughts really had been money, I’d be rich?

But the point is, I got it all out.  In my very own version of praying that I made up by my own self.

And then I slept like a rock.

Till the kids woke up.

We're bringing Tufty back...

Okay, a dear friend requested a special post on today's events...

So Jess, this is for you.

All others are welcome to read it but if you dare judge me for one second, my only response is that your time will come.

See these bangs?  12 hours ago they were a  perfectly shaped little line just above her eyebrows.

See those sprouts?  There are 5 other patches across the front of her head to match.  All in all, not the worst case, but I'm telling you, it still hurts a mother's heart.

So, here's my journal entry from today.

What a day… at least Paul is home for it all.

Grace cut her own bangs this morning.

Then while I was in the shower, she ate 1/3 of a bottle of chewable vitamins.  I still am not quite sure how she got past the child proof lid.  We might have a genius on our hands.  Or, at the very least, a wildly determined child.  I might add here that the only reason we had these particular vitamins is because she opened the bottle WHILE WE WERE IN THE STORE.  They are the Disney ones that are double the price of the generic.

She slapped me.  Yep.  I was already raving mad about the hair.  And then she slapped me.  Mad you ask?  At this picturesque / right of passage moment? Yep. Fuming.  Her hair was SO FREAKING CUTE.  And now…  It was all I could do not to slap her back.

Then, we barely caught her as she was inches from shoving a key into the electrical outlet.

Then she whipped said keys hanging from a lanyard at me like she was David-slaying-Goliath-with-a-sling-and-a-rock.  Again, I did not hit her, though the temptation was considerably stronger.

Then she colored all over her book with a pen.  10 minutes after apologizing to the librarian for ripping a book ON PURPOSE last week.  Will I ever learn?

She’s napping now.  We’ll see how this evening goes.

When we took her to the store this afternoon, we cinched her so tightly into the cart; there was no telling what she might have done otherwise.

She still got out.

So that was my day.  Nope.  No pearls of wisdom or perky conclusions.  Just a plain old rundown of some of the more colorful events of the day.