Posted tagged ‘Jane’

Fickle

February 9, 2012

A snapshot of my day:

Jane:  Up.

Me:  You want to come up?  Shouldn’t you go play with your toys?

Jane:  Up.

Me:  (picking Jane up) Would you like to read a book?

Jane: (vigorously signing please)

Me:  Brown Bear Brown Bear, wha…

Jane:  Bye-bye. (squirms to get down)

Me:  Are you going somewhere?

Jane:  Bye-bye (waving)

….

Jane:  Up.

 

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Flawed

February 8, 2012

This morning, during breakfast, Jane decided to let her water from her sippy cup run back out of her mouth instead of swallowing it.  No big deal.  She was just playing.  Like toddlers do.

Let’s just say that my reaction was disproportionate to in relation to the actual harm done (which was, by the way, none. No harm.  At all).  I may have slammed her sippy cup down on the table.  This response may have made her cry.  I am not actually admitting to any of this, mind you.  Because that would be embarrassing.  Who slams their toddler’s sippy cup down as an instructional method?  No one sane, that’s who.

I spent the remainder of my morning doing penance for my over-the-top reaction.  First, I beat myself up about my temper (I rarely have one, by the way).  Then I berated myself for my lack of patience.  I apologized to Jane, although she had completely forgotten about the incident by that point.  Then I spent some time praying after my run, while Jane slept in the stroller (because God knows I need help, if I am slamming sippy cups).  Once Jane woke up, she and I spent copious amounts of time crawling around on the floor, wrestling and playing–all the while I kept hoping and praying that these are the moments she remembers, instead of my occasional parental lapses.

Parenting Jane brings out the very best in me, most of the time.  But sometimes I am forced to confront my character flaws.  And I just have to keep reminding myself that everyone has flaws; the real tragedy would be to see them and then do nothing to try to change them.

ONE!

February 2, 2012

Jane turned one (ONE!) this past Saturday.

For the week or so leading up to her birthday, my mind kept coming back to what I was doing last year at this same time.  Waiting.  I was waiting.  All her tiny clothes had been washed (one vivid memory stands out of folding onesies in my sunlit laundry room, wondering about the brand-new person that would fill them). I had occupied myself for days organizing the pantry and the cupboards in the kitchen.  I spent hours roaming the mall, trying to coax out the little one who seemed to want to take permanent residence inside my body.  She was a week late… and that week seemed longer than the entirety of my pregnancy.

Jane finally arrived after 14 hours of labor and an unplanned C-section.  And she was amazing.  I didn’t fall completely in love with her at first sight, though.  It wasn’t until I held her for the first time (about 30 minutes after her birth) and felt her latch on to breastfeed that I was completely overwhelmed with the enormity of being someone’s mother.  And completely taken aback by how much I loved this tiny baby girl.  Every fiber of my being belonged completely to her.

The first few months of her life whirred by in a sleep-deprived blur.  I wrote lots of things down during that time, in her baby book that I haven’t touched since she was 6 months old.  Then, there seemed to be lots of time to write and contemplate.  She and I had a slow, easy rhythm to our days.  But, once she could sit up (at about 6 months… I am sure I wrote it down somewhere), our times together exploded with possibility and little adventures.  And writing things down fell by the wayside.

I find myself wanting to capture every moment with her in my memory, freeze it so that I can look back and cherish each moment like folks keep telling me to.  But everything happens so quickly.  Now she is a big girl who eats brown rice, tofu and pineapple for dinner with her Baba and I.  She says “mama” and “baba” continuously.  She adores bananas (NANA!) and books (which we have to read over and over again).  She is a toddler.

I am fascinated with the child she is becoming.  She loves people.  The folks at the Y and at the church nursery always talk about what a happy child Jane is.  Amy & I didn’t have much to do with that, Jane just kind of came that way, but I bask in the compliment nonetheless.  At the mall playground the other day, a little girl wanted to hug Jane.  And she did.  Multiple times.  Jane gamely played along.  She even gave the little girl a kiss.  She is just that kind of kid.

Our days aren’t without meltdowns and tantrums; Jane has a strong will and her own idea about how things should go.  And any disapproval in my tone can send her into a crying jag.  But she rebounds quickly.  Tears are followed by hugs and (if I am lucky) a kiss.  I like that she knows what she wants.  And I am thankful that I am strong enough to set boundaries for her.

Jane had her very first cupcake for her first birthday.  She dove right into it, grabbing fistfuls of blue icing and shoving her little hands into her mouth.  She ate that cupcake like she lives her life, with enthusiasm and joy.  I am so amazed that I get to be her mother.  And so very grateful.

love at first lick

Rainbows & Tutus

January 31, 2012

One of the most awesome parts of having a kid is dressing her in crazy, fun get-ups that I never would have been allowed to wear when I was little.

Exhibit A:

Rainbow

Rainbow leg warmers!  And a rainbow shirt that has each color of the rainbow spelled out in said color… And the cloud!  The cloud just says “fluffy” over and over in a cloud shape!  Y’all, I would totally rock this outfit if I could.  But I get to do the next best thing:  put it on my one year old daughter!

And, oh are there outfits for special occasions.  See Exhibit B, in which Janie debuts the tutu for her first birthday:

Happy 1st birthday Jane!!

Doesn’t this outfit just scream, “ONE!”?  Yeah, I thought so, too.

I know one day Jane will have very strong opinions about her clothes.  But right now, she rocks the Punky Brewster chic without a care in the world.  And. it. is. awesome.

Chana Masala (Yowza!)

January 26, 2012

Indian food feels comforting.  The aromatic spices seem warm, alluring.  And, Indian food offers quite a few vegan options.  So, as I shuffled through some recipe options online, this recipe for Chana Masala popped out at me.  I had most of the ingredients on hand, and the recipe seemed easy enough for a week night.  Yeah, my algorithm for dinner selection isn’t too complicated…

I breezed through the recipe.  After mincing onions and garlic and grating the ginger (which is by far the hardest part), the recipe comes together in about 15 minutes.  Rad.

But… YOWZA!  This Chana Masala really packs some heat!  I like spicy.  Really, I do.  But dang this was hot!  What’s more, I felt like it was hot without the heat really enriching the flavors.  Maybe my cayenne is too hot (I put 1/4 teaspoon instead of 1/2, and it was still way too hot).  AND, I left out the green chili because I couldn’t figure out exactly which pepper I needed at Publix.  Yeah, I also have no qualms about dropping seemingly superfluous ingredients out of recipes… don’t ask me how that usually works out for me.  But still… so hot.

Amy didn’t eat it at all.  Jane (our almost one year old) ate quite a few bites before she opted for the palate cooling pear & mango baby food instead.  I ate a whole bowl, but I had to have two pieces of buttered bread to help me along.  I was bummed this was so hot; I really liked the flavors.  Unfortunately, Amy didn’t like the flavors either, so this is the last time Chana Masala will make an appearance in this house.  (Sad trombone)

I say totally give this recipe a try… but start out with a pinch of cayenne.   Otherwise… FIRE! FIRE!

And Everyone Breathed a Collective Sigh of Relief…

January 25, 2012

Yesterday I ran for the first time in almost a week.  Since running replaces therapy for me, no one really wants me to go that long without a run.  I get edgy.  And my head starts freaking out and bombarding me with words like “bad,” “can’t,” “won’t ever”…

Does a run fix all that?  In one word:  yes.

But… the first run back after a hiatus of any kind (and yes, even less than a week counts) is pretty darn painful.  And I had been really sick.  So, I promised myself I would just do an easy 5k to get back into it.  Easy, my butt.  There was nothing easy about that run.  My lungs felt a bit wheezy.  I got tired about a mile in.  I felt like I was running through watered down Jello.  But I did it.  And I still completed the 5k distance in less time than I used to run a 5k on race days.

M0st importantly, though, it was easier to smile at my daughter and mean it after my run.  For Jane and I, there was more singing, more dancing, more giggling yesterday than there had been in almost a week.  And that is worth all the effort I had to put into that run.

 

 

Mercy Tastes Like Bubble Gum

January 22, 2012

Strep throat.  Nothing strikes fear into the heart of a kid like the threat of strep throat.

Now I remember why.

On Thursday morning, I woke up feeling off–my head felt foggy, my muscles ached.  At 6 a.m., I asked Amy to get up with Jane so I could sleep for a bit longer to try to ward of the impending sickness.  Turns out, sleep only delayed the inevitable.  By 1 p.m., when Amy mercifully came home from work, I knew that I was really sick.  My fever already reached 100.3.  From there, even on a steady dose of Tylenol, it climbed to 103.1 before it finally broke at 10 p.m.

Fevers, chills, hot flashes, and throbbing achiness… and an almost 1 year old to take care of.  Those factors can only equate to agony.  I do not remember ever being in that much seemingly inescapable pain.  And it all seemed so hopeless.  Jane wanted me to play.  Moving around hurt.  She still need to be fed, and held, and loved.  And I just wanted to cry.  Awful.

When people used to tell me how much my life would change after I had Jane, I thought they were idiots. Of course my life would change.  I understood the ways in which it would change.  Even after Jane was born, I felt like I had adequately prepared myself for what it meant to completely care for another human being.  But OH MY LORD… people forgot to mention that kids don’t go away when you get sick.  Jane wouldn’t issue a time out.  I could hear her chanting “No mercy” as I lay moaning on the floor next to her tunnel, which she had already crawled through 101 times.  It was hell.

At this point in the chaos, Amy was stricken down with the plague, too.  That’s right.  Both parent figures down for the count by Thursday evening.

Oh, but wait… at this point, my throat didn’t even hurt!  Nope, not until Friday morning did I wake up feeling much better… except for the thousands of tiny knives sliding down my throat when I swallowed.  But 3 p.m. I was at a walk-in clinic begging for mercy.

Mercy came in a pediatric dose of bubble gum flavored amoxicillin to treat strep (although no one is really sure I have strep at all… it is just an educated guess).

I am not exaggerating when I say that hell is strep throat with an almost 1 year old.  Absolute torment.  But it is over; we are going to be okay.

Now, if I can just get Jane to stop chanting “no mercy,” everything will be back to normal around here.