29 (not) forever

Today, my daughter is 29 months old.

I stopped counting in months sometime around 2 years old.

Certainly, the months still make a difference. You can tell a 26 month old from a 32 month old, but they're both still "2". But you feel dumb saying, she's 28 months. For a time I said, she turned 2 in April. Now I say, she's about 2 and a half.

Since she was born April 1st, the 1st of each month always strikes me. And yesterday, it struck me - 29. I was 29-years-old when I met her dear-old daddy.

29-years-old. That's the age people (jokingly or seriously) say they are when people ask & they don't want to say.

I guess there's something magical about it.

There was for me.

Life. is different now.

My path. diverged.

Have you watched Dora or Diego? If you've not had the pleasure, let me tell you - there's a frequent question - "Which path should we go down?" 

Sometimes there's 2 choices, other times 3. 

There's always a correct choice. 

They always tell you what was down the other path.

So different than life.

In life, there are infinite choices. 

Maybe they don't feel infinite at the time, but in truth they are.

There's is certainly not one correct choice. 

There are better choices.

But it's entirely subjectively, never concrete. Nothing so delightfully simple as "We chose the path with the cuddly animal we were helping. Down the other path was a baby-eating snake."

Good choice. Go, us.

I chose a path. 

I'm happy with it. Very.

I suppose you could call it a right path.

Sometimes I get a glimpse of the other path.

And I can't deny it's appeal.

Couples without children (and I'm looking at you, H&K) - your travel pics and nights on the town, microbrew tours and so on - all of it is right up my alley. But I do such things rarely. Because of the little girl sleeping on the other side of the house.

Really, I don't know how to go on from here. Without sounding like - a) I want to trade my daughter for a few beers or a trip to Greece. Or - b) Going on & on  about why I'm glad I chose my path (or it chose me?) and unintentionally making it sound like I think you made a bad choice.

Neither is true.

I hope only this - that all of my friends (single, married with or without children) are happy & fulfilled. A tall order really.

But why am I even pondering these choices?

Yes, there's the 29//29 thing.

But more.

We're making the choice again.

Another one? 

Many people assume that having one means you'll have two for sure, 3 or more is questionable. But 2 certainly.

Not us. We pondered. Our answer evolved.

At this point, signs point to yes.

The intention is now there. If not the full certainty that was there the first time.

I'm scared.

Life is good now. Why rock the boat?

Well, again - I don't want to sound to parents of onlies like I judge your choice. I do not. I still hold it at the back of my head as "maybe that would be the best thing for us."

But then I see my kiddo looking at pairs or groups of children. At the park today, "Look at those kids having so much fun." Tonight at the Nebraska bar, just looking and wondering about a table with a bunch of kids.

I've read the studies. I know only children can be every bit as happy as (or -ier than) those with siblings. I know the benefits of being an only child for her. I know the benefits of having an only child for me/us. I find them compelling.

Hence the lack of full certainty.

Unfortunately, Dora is not going to show up and point me down the correct path. 

For better or for worse, you can't go back and "try out" the other choice. Quantum physics and all that.

Fortunately, I think it is highly unlikely that there are baby-eating snakes down either path.

Fate will decide, I suppose. Also biology. Also my frequent inability to stay awake through her bedtime.

Wish us luck.

And much happiness to each of you on whatever path you choose.

Here's a little help ---

Motherhood Moments: Laughter & Panic

This morning, I had one of those motherhood moments that immediately made me laugh.

Last night, I had one that made me panic and hate myself for a bit. I don't hate myself any more, but I doubt I'll ever laugh at it.

Both. Were opportunities. For learning. and For growth.

I love the growth, but could pass on the panic and guilt. I'm not sure that's possible though.

Here are the moments. Laughter first.

My daughter is nearly 2 and a half. A very verbal & social 2 and a half. But still very much 2 and a half. We started potty training her last Thursday. She's been doing amazing. Uh-Mazing. Like 0-2 accidents daily amazing. Now, mind you, we were mostly setting her on the potty every 30 minutes or less. But still, amazing. We even had a breakfast & park outing yesterday with Zero accidents.
What happens when you're too amazing? You get cocky. That's what.
I took her to the grocery store this morning. I asked her half-way through, "Do you need to sit on the potty?" A: "No." Okay, she's a big girl. She knows. Yes, but only 0.5 seconds before she pees.
So, right between milk & eggs. "Mommy, I have to go potty." Before "OK" could get out my mouth, pee was streaming down the cart. Oh, well. I had extra clothes for her, so off we went to change. We talked about how mommy would just take her, until she knows sooner & what a good girl she is for telling me. Then I had a talk with myself about bringing extra clothes for me. Then we finished the shopping. (Blissfully, only 2 more items in my pee-soaked shirt.)

Now, Panic.

My daughter likes to help me cook. I love that. But it's challenging. Finding a thing that's safe for her to do. Finding a safe way to do it. Even when you think you've got it just right, she might decide to jump up & down on the chair instead of cooking like she said she wanted to. Or, suddenly, the knives might be right there in her reach. Ack! Not relaxing. But I consider it good practice for when she gets older? Maybe I'm crazy. But I like her knowing & experiencing how her food happens. So I keep trying.
And I will keep trying after last night. (I think.) But MUCH much more carefully. Like, maybe you're over there doing totally fake cooking while I'm over here doing the real thing. Except, I bet that won't work, and she'll see through my facade.
Anyway, I've stalled long enough. My daughter got burned. Not badly, but literally.
I wasn't feeling my best, so we were having a lazy afternoon. Blue box Mac'n'cheese for dinner in front of football was up next. I told her she could help. I meant that she could help stir the sauce together. I set a timer, to show her how long the pasta had to cook before. Not having it. The empty box & a spatula? Yes! For 1 minute. But she wanted the real deal. So, I pulled the chair over and stood with her. I gave her a long spoon, and told her to be very careful. Sure, yes - my 2 and a half year old knows just how to be careful with hot water. You betcha.
You know what comes next. Over-vigorous stirring. Splash. Burned belly. Hysteria.

What I'm so glad didn't come next. Finger-pointing.

In my mind: That's exactly why I told you you couldn't help.
because who wants to blame themselves?
Out of my mouth: I am so sorry. It is my fault. I can't let you do things that I know might hurt you. Even if you get mad at me. I am so sorry.
because that's the truth.

** We removed the shirt, grabbed the boo-boo pad from the freezer, snuggled up & wiped away tears.

I'm sure in my husband's mind: Idiot! You're the adult. She's the child. Don't put her in harm's way just to shut her up.
because that's the truth.
Out of his mouth: There. You're okay. Mommy took good care of you.
because that's the truth too.
Then he finished dinner. Then we all snuggled in front of football & enjoyed our Mac'n'cheese.
Her belly is fine. She is fine. Our family is great.

It was completely, 100% my fault. I know that. My husband knows that. But he also knew that blaming me wasn't going to make it better.
My daughter might not know it was my fault. But she knows that it isn't hers. And she knows that mommy & daddy are a team. Even if we sometimes fail to stop her from getting hurt, we work together to take care of her.

And we always will.

Change: Too Much of a Good Thing?

"Change is good."

People throw that sentence around a little too freely for my taste sometimes. Oh, I grant you, change can certainly be good. But a couple of things:

• It isn't always good. 
• You can get too much of a good thing.
• Saying & knowing it's a good thing doesn't magically erase stress.

My little family of 3 is experiencing 2 of the 3 right now. Happily, all of the changes are happy ones.
But all 3 of us making big changes at once? Whoa. Just, whoa.

• My husband started a new job a few weeks ago (his second this year).
• I start a new position at current job in two weeks.
• Kiddo starts a new school next week (her second this year).

The career moves are one things. People of a certain age & mindset have to do those things. (Right? Or do we? Thought for another day ...) 

But that last one. Why oh why would we move our daughter when there's so much going on? When she's just starting to used to the newest teacher at current school.

For 4 main reasons:

1. Location - Current school is right next to my work, which is roughly 40 minutes from my house. Translation: commuting with a toddler. No fun for either of us, and unnecessary exposure to road hazards for her. (But really, just plain selfishly? I used to enjoy my commute. My coffee, my NPR - it was my me time. Currently, I spend a good half the time explaining why I cannot turn around and find the shoe or sippy she just threw on the floor.) New school is 8 minutes from my house.
2. Schedule - Our first school (attached to Husband's job of the previous few years) gave us a Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday schedule. My parents had her on Mondays & Fridays. I loved the compartmentalization. It was like a mini-week for our family of 3. Then the extended family might do something together on Fridays. Current school made us do Monday/Wednesday/Friday. It has its benefits, but none outweigh the fact that none of us ever seems to know where we're going when - least of all the little 2 year old in the mix! New school? They said I could pick my days & seemed unable to fathom why the other school wouldn't allow it.
3. Professionalism - I love the teachers we've had at current school. Management leaves something to be desired. They seem to forget when it's time to transition a child to the next level. Therefore, my daughter, who talks like a 3 year old, was in a room with 18 month old's till well past her 2nd birthday. I finally had to jump up & down on one foot to get the director to notice. And when they did transition her? They did it sort of out of the blue, and also never bothered to tell me that I'd have to drop her off in a still different room from the one she was moving to. Also!? The staff doesn't have a uniform. Sounds like a dumb complaint, but I like knowing easily who works there. I also like my daughter to see women dressed professionally, which their dress code falls short of. New school - logo'ed polos & khakis - is that so hard?
4. PS - the proverbial icing on the cake. With all the negatives, we just kept chugging along, thinking change would be harder than maintaining the status quo. Then there were a couple of "incidents" - just things I heard from other parents. Things about teachers - not terrible things. But not warm fuzzy things. So, I had an "if not now, when" moment.

So, there you have it. The timing couldn't really be much worse. The changes will be good for all of us in the end. But facing 3 new routines at once is .. a little daunting. I know it will pass. Knowing that doesn't blow my funk away. Yoga does. An extra splash of wine and/or an extra spoon of frozen yogurt do. And, naturally, sweet times with my husband & daughter do.

Oh, PPS - that picture of us is from Christmas last year. "Things" had been the same for nearly a year & a half at the point. I just realized I was no more or less happy then. Which is to say - very happy. So, there's that.

How do you deal with change?

Our Marriage

Whenever I hear it, I have no idea what it means:

"The sanctitiy of marriage" --- whose marriage?

Often, those who would define marriage as between a man & a woman state we must ban gay marriage to protect "the sanctity of marriage."

Do I really have to point out all the ridiculous, sad, mortifying, and "unsanct" things married straight people do? Because really? If I do? Pick up a gossip rag in line at the grocery store and see for yourself.

If we can define the sex organs of who marries whom, where does it end?

My husband & I wrote our own wedding vows. Why not just use the ones the church provided? Because we don't go to church. We are atheists. We don't believe in God. Sometimes I wish I did, but I don't. And I think it's a sad irony. Many gay people do believe in God. Yet, their loves are "unsanct," not marriage-worthy. While little heathen me can marry to her hearts' content, all thanks to wanting to do that with someone of the opposite sex.

In a few weeks my husband & I will celebrate four years of marriage. We're still learning how to live our vows. We believe that's the whole idea. 

We believe. 

Nothing that happens inside anyone else's marriage affects ours in the least bit.

We believe in our marriage. 

A framed copy of our vows hangs outside our bedroom. It's a great reminder when those inevitable little irritants fester. It also represents the fact that our marriage is the center of our lives and our little family.

Here they are. If you fancy them, I welcome ANY two people who love to use them.

Marriage is a commitment to life,

and to the best that two people can find and bring out in each other.

It offers opportunities for growth and sharing that no other human relationship can

equal. It is a physical and emotional joining that is promised for a lifetime.

There will be space in our togetherness, allowing each to be individuals, with hearts

and minds of our own.

For only by being a whole person can we have something to give the other.

We will keep the freedom of spirit which individually brought us to stand together.

*

These things I promise to you from this day forward:
I will be faithful to you.

I will be honest with you.

I will respect and trust you.

I will care for you, and I will share my life with you, 

through the best and worst of what is to come, 

until death do us part.

This ring I give you, as an outward symbol of our vows.

This ring has no beginning and no ending, 

so too the love between us.

As I place it on your finger, 

I give you all that I am and ever hope to be.

*

When two people pledge to love and care for each other in marriage, they create a spirit unique to themselves, which binds them closer than any spoken or written words.

Marriage is a promise, a potential, made in the hearts of two people who love,

which takes a lifetime to fulfill.

Redefining Intimacy

My top 3 readers are my Mom, my Dad, and my Grandpa. Sooo ... NO, this post is not about intimacy. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

In fact, it's about exactly not that.

That is all fine & good, and very important for a marriage. BUT, I think we all know you don't have to be married for that.

What I had to be married to discover is the intimacy of day-to-day life.

My husband is working on a budget. Of course, I am involved. He's the keeper of the Excel file; I have a big red veto pen.

I like my job.

I also like that we're having fun.

This is a big, serious deal. Money is one of the biggest sources of stress for couples (and individuals). Yet, I'm having fun. (Probably more than the keeper of the Excel file.)

We are making big decisions and talking seriously, but also poking fun at things the other considers a necessity and cracking unrelated jokes.

I think what has made this fun for me is that it's part of deepening our partnership. That's kind of the gist of our wedding vows - here's a choice quote: "Marriage is a promise that takes a lifetime to fulfill."

It's not all fancy dinners and exciting trips. It's budgets, yard work, and shuffling kids to school. If you can do those things, and not only not kill each other but have fun doing it ...

You're on to something! Here's to your lifetime & ours!

A lifetime ago ... our daughter's, that is! :)