So appparently....

THIS unending freakin' weather....

has the ability to cause other isolated disturbances:

Pair that with these freakin' copious creatures...

...with their ability to confine mothers and children indoors...

..and you'll get two very stir-crazy, petulant people

Trust me when I tell you -- that the above photo is a generously kind portrayal of real nuts that inhabit Lewis Land.

 

Have mercy!

Identity Crisis

Someone is having a little identity crisis. 

Remember our little Snow White?

It seems that Snow White was a little too itchy in her black wig - so she donned her Rapunzel wig that I made for her. 

Hey, whatever works!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In other princess news, she is addicted to these little bitty Disney figurines that occupy a LARGE portion of her time. (BEST gift!)

This morning we played a game that we often play with her toys that we call "Who's Missing?"

A Southern Drawl, Y'all

My child is now speaking with a super exagerated southern drawl. Who knows what the genesis was of this odd behavior? Best I can guess, it began with the movie, The Princess and the Frog which Gianna got to watch as a potty prize. Here's a taste of her recent colorful language:

"Hey Momma?" (She ususally calls me Mommy.) "Could Ah have a snayack?

"Momma, did you say 'hah' (hi) to Mayax (Max) when we got howum?

"Can I use a little chayar to git in the bayathtuuub?"

"Way-ull, Momma - may I please sit on your lay-up (lap)." 

"I gotta huuuury up and teetee on the potty before I wet my payanties."

It's cute creative and entertaining, but I cannot get her to stop.

Aggggghhhhh...I do believe this little whipper snapper is driving me plum-d NUUUUUTS!

My Birthday

My birthday was last week. I would have been perfectly happy to let it pass without notice - not because of my advancing age, but because I knew the day would be one of those heavy milestones associated with those who are bereaved.  There were a few factors that came into play which were the cause for celebration.  One factor comes in the form of a three year old named Gianna.

Before Christmas when we were celebrating my brother's birthday, Gianna wanted to know whose birthday would be next.  When I told her it would be mine she exclaimed, "Oh, happy birthday, Mommy!"  I told her it wasn't then, but we'd have to wait until January.  "Oh, when Beauty and the Beast comes to the movies?"  This child doesn't forget a thing.

I knew Gianna would be disappointed if she didn't have a gift for me (that would've been an Daddy date) and I didn't think it would be good for me to take her shopping, so I sought the help of one of my 'shopping for sport' friends who also is the mother of two boys and who has always felt a little deprived of the girl-mommy experience.  They went shopping and I had a few hours to myself. Win-win.  Gianna was so cute when they got back.  She wanted desperately to tell me everything she got for me but every time I cut her off - she said, "Well, Mommy -- we just got you an elephant."  (That was her coaching from Sissy.) Sissy really wanted Gianna to 'wrap' (bag) the gifts herself. There FOUR bags of really sweet gifts.

Well, they were mostly sweet.  One bag in particular included questionable contents.  My friend said when Gianna picked it out she turned to her and said, "Oh Ms. Sissy, do you think if we got this for Mommy - she would share." I couldn't imagine what it could be.

And then after my birthday dinner with my family, I opened them all up.  It was easy to spot the curious choice....

 She was proud to tell me that she helped make these bath gels with the lady at the store.  She even got to pick little treasures to put in the gel: 

sparkles, stars, squishy little figures and drumroll please.....

a FINGER and a little RAT!!!

EWWWW!!!!!

She was so proud - and yes, I DEFINITELY shared.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I know my closest friends were concerned about my upcoming birthday and that it wouldn't be the same - maybe even difficult and sad - without Iain.  They wanted to be intentional about celebrating it, but also wanted to be respectful of my needs and wants.

Two of my closest circles of friends planned different things for me.

My special 'sister friends' (who have been unbelievable in their support and practical help) took me out to eat one night at a wonderful restaurant at the casino - and then to a fun dessert shop. They even provided me with childcare. So nice - and low key.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The second group of friends I have known since HS/college (and one since elementary).  They also gave me a list of options (I poo-pooed the party idea) and I settled on a lunch/movie date on the day of my birthday.  One of the girls hosted at her home and made soup and a panini bar for lunch. Another friend had a birthday the next day - so I was MORE than happy to share the spotlight. After lunch we watched a movie.  If you haven't seen Connie & Carla - it's a hoot.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On the night before my birthday - Gianna and I were a little stir crazy (weekends are so hard and lonely) so I knew we should get out of the house.  I decided to take her to a restaurant for supper and when she asked why I told her it would be my birthday supper. "It's January twenty-fird? I can't believe this! Happy Birthday, Mommy!"  She was beside herself. I explained that the next day was really my birthday, but this night would be our little family celebration. (Having a family of two is taking a lot of getting used to.)

So, we are seated and the waitress approaches with the usual spiel. Gianna pipes up (without prompting) and says in one breath,

"I would like macaroni and cheese, corn on the cob, chocolate milk - I've never had chocolate milk. And it's my Mommy's birthday, can you make her a cake."

The waitress was as surprised and entertained as I was. Gianna had the most adorable conversation with her and I continue to marvel at her social skills. 

Gianna was beside herself when they actually brought a birthday cake. She couldn't believe she made it happen.  (I couldn't believe she thought to ask. She's never seen a cake at a restaurant before.)

The waitress, stayed to watch her first bite and it was worth watching.

She closed her eyes and made the precious, appropriate mini-moaning noise.

"This is ah-MAY-zing!!!

It would have made the best commercial.

The waitress got such a kick out of her that she kept bringing other employees to see "the kid who needs an agent."  It was really a nice evening. Iain would've gotten the biggest kick out of it. His presence was missed SORELY, but I'm glad I got another milestone under my belt.

It snowed at our house last night!

Remember a month or so ago when THIS VIDEO went viral?  A mother videoed the aftermath of an entire bag of flour spread around every nook and cranny of her home by her adorable little boys who were still playing in it - all in a matter of  minutes while the mother was in the bathroom.  I think every mother was either horrified by it or rolled her eyes at the mother for 'letting' it happen. What struck me was how calm the mother was.  I was certain I would have blown a gasket if it were me.

Well, APPARENTLY, when you are in the situation yourself, you are struck dumb (both literally and figuratively) and are fearful that if any sound escapes you, it may set off a subsequent explosion which would surely cause you to become either institutionalized or jailed. 

How do I know this, you ask? Well the 'snow' at our house last night - wasn't snow. It was BABY POWDER and it was INSIDE our house minus three very fortunate rooms which seemed to escape the havoc.  I am still stupified.

Gianna had an emotionally challenging day yesterday, but we had seem to have turned the tide around later in the afternoon.  She was playing dress up in a beautiful ballerina costume and was dancing to classical music. I started making supper, which didn't require too much effort. In less than the time it takes a small pot of water to boil is all it took for the 'snowstorm' to do it's damage. 

I am almost always hightly attuned to the sounds of my child and my home and quickly know when something is awry. As I was browning my meat, I heard Gianna's hysterical giggling as she quickly approached the kitchen.  As I turned around (this all plays out in slow motion, of course) she appears in the kitchen trailed by multiple clouds of smoke -- skipping all the while with a gleeful expression and the bottle of baby powder I used FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE SHE WAS BORN after her bath earlier.

It was at that very moment, I became mute.  I calmly took the bottle out of her hand and escorted her to laundry room where I keep her high chair (which I now use for time out).  I was hoping that she had only just begun the powder rampage close to the kitchen, but that hope was quickly shattered as I entered the fog-filled living room. And then I got a glimpse of the hall which led to what I could not even begin to imagine.

HOLY freakin' COW! My room was covered, but certainly not the worst of it. The bathroom was like a WINTER WONDERLAND. It was still floating in the air as I tried to imagine how many hours it would take to clean up this horrible joke of a mess. 

It was EVERYWHERE: in the toilet, on the toilet, in the bathtub, in both closets on the picture frames,  And don't ask me how there was still powder left in the bottle!  Apparently powder fills space very differently when let out of it's container. 

First I stared sweeping - one room at a time.  That should help, right? HA!  Then I dry-mopped. HA! Then I had no other choice to add water to the mix....I wet mopped. Double HA!  Four moppings and a regretful steam-cleaning later - it is STILL NOT CLEAN.

Gianna spent a good hour in her high chair last night as I cleaned.  She peed on herself and I let her sit in it for about 20 minutes.  I thought that was the safest place for her. "I don't want to sit in the chair anymore, Mommy!"  My calm response:  "Well, I can relate. I don't want to be cleaning powder of my floor, furniture, clothes (she got in my closet too!) all night long either."

She asked to go straight to bed at 6:30pm.  I obliged. She raised a little cain when I put her down and I started crying.  She started sobbing and sobbing and saying, "I am SO sorry, Mommy.  PLEASE forgive me. You HAVE to forgive me. You're my MOMMY!"  Heartbreaking.

So, it's the next day. I've been cleaning for another hour and I've yet to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I'm sure I'll be finding powder in unusual places for a good long while.

The funny thing is, Gianna is not the kind of kid who tends to things like this.  I'm pretty good about removing temptations or keeping them out of reach. (Apparently I was a little lax after bathtime yesterday.)  She's gotten into small things like make up or nail polish but never made enormous messes. From what she told me, she saw the powder and wanted some for her hands. When it came out in cloud form I think it was novel and fun and she got caught up in it. Who knows?  Even this morning after our little chat and another apology she told me, "But powder is so much fun!" 

My guard is up, little girl! Don't mess with MOMMY!!!!!

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

I was shaking my fist at the heavens last night. It was a hard enough day with this little hiccup.  Grief had already left it's mark on us throughout the day.  I was another kick in the gut and reminder that Iain is gone.  It's hard because he'd have been the one I would have called; who would have found it both appauling and hysterical; who would have told me to leave the mess and rest until he got home; who would have helped clean it - or at least offer to; who would have calmed me and held me and made it all better - or bearable; who would have told the story for years with a sympathetic smile.

  Now it's just me - and my blog. :(  I miss him. 

I sure hope he's enjoying this little show from the other side.

Code Red!

Oh the drama!  Who would have thought my decision about my iPhone would cause such a ruckus. 

Gianna has been playing with our phones since she was little.  Iain had tons of education apps on his phone and taught her so much by playing with her.  Well, Daddy's not here anymore and I don't have a whole lot of time to play around with that.

So now, I really only let her use my phone when:
1) We are driving back from LC to MB and I don't want her to fall asleep in the car.  You moms know what a 25 minute power nap will do for a preschooler!
2) When I am grocery shopping and she is getting antsy or tired and I need to avoid any possible 'issues.'
3) We are in a restaurant for longer than expected.

The Netflix app has really saved me. And Gianna is really good about asking me, "Is this a good show for me?"

Anyway, she's been hijacking my phone at home recently and it was irritating the tar out of me.  I don't know why, but it never occurred to me to put a security code on it until my friend told me she did it after her 10 year old started questioning her about some of her texts. Ruh-roh!

So, I did it.

I was not at all prepared, however, for the severe reaction it would get.  Holy cannoli.  She sobbed for a good five minutes, and the compassionate mother I am, decided to record the conversation following....

Just a little off the top...

The week after Iain died I was trying to find fun little excursions for Gianna.  I happened to pass the children's haircutting place by my folks' house and pulled in to trim up her hair.  Fun little experience. 

Last week, I went back again only to find out the would be closing their doors that very day.  (That was a short run!) The sylist was a girl I knew years ago and Gianna chatted with her like she was a grown up. Here how the conversation went:

Gianna:  And what is your name?
Stylist:  Michelle
Gianna:  Hi Ms. Michelle, I'm Gianna.  I'm frwee.
Stylist: Hi Gianna, it's so nice to meet you.
Gianna:  It's nice to meet you too.  Do you have any little kids?
Stylist:  I have two kids, they're teenagers.
Gianna: Oh. Do you have a house?
Stylist: Yes I do.
Gianna:  Oh....well, would you like to show me a picture of your house?
Stylist: I don't have one with me. How old are you again?
Gianna:  Frwee.  And you should be careful with those scissors. Don't cut yourself!

The next week when I told her that I needed to get Ms. Michelle to give me a haircut, she laughed hysterically.  I asked her what was so funny about that and she said, "Mommy, you can't fit in the firetruck!!!"   Funny kid.

A Widow's Peek....

Widow.  Ugh.  And I thought the term 'housewife' bothered me!  Oh how I would love to trade in my widow card for my housewife card.  And then just throw 'single-mother' title into the mix and you have a whole bag of fun.

I'm 3 1/2 months into this world of widow-hood and it's as brutal as you might expect.  Lately, the waves of grief crash with unrelenting force and there is little time between them. I can feel them coming on, almost like an emotional contraction, and as I take my cleansing breath I wonder how many hours or days the next set of waves will last before I might breathe again.

Gianna says it best when she declares, "I just wish Daddy will stop dying."  That's what it feels like to me too:  he keeps dying - and our hearts keep breaking - over and over and over.  It's exhausting. It's gripping. It's hollowing.  It's isolating.  It's lonely. It's humbling. It's excruciating.  It's the most vulnerable I've ever been.  It's my existence right now....and I won't lie --- I don't like any of it.

I miss him.  My soul aches. I have no words to describe the pain of longing and missing and wanting things to be different.  Sometimes I feel like a spoiled child yelling, "I don't want to do this anymore."  I have fantasies about God coming to me and saying, "Oh Maria, what a trial you've had to endure.  I'm so proud of you and how you have dealt with this, so as I reward I will be making all things as they should be. Go and get ready because I will be sending Iain back to you and Gianna in his happiest and healthiest state."

Oh, don't worry ~ I'm not delusional. Trust me when I tell you that I am very grounded in my reality these days.  I just don't happen to like my reality ~ AT ALL.  I know I'm not the only one.  I often think of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done.” Luke: 22:42 I'm certainly not in the position to assume what Jesus' actual feelings were, but he wasn't just fully divine - he was also fully human, and in believing in his humanity, I would have to guess that he wasn't so excited about his cross either. His faithfulness is what we remember ("not my will but yours be done,") but his faithfulness doesn't erase his humanity ("take this cup away from me").  That's where I am....feeling the reality and depths of my humanity.

I think people assume because I am a woman of faith, that these kind of trials and crosses are somehow easier.  People have said to me, "You'll be fine. You have such strong faith. If anyone can handle this, you can."  I know they mean well, but it's almost offensive to me and it really invalidates my very human, very painful grief.  Oh, I can write a book on what helps and what doesn't in dealing with someone who is grieving - maybe not a book - but a post is in the works, for sure. 

I am not writing this glimpse into my grief to gain sympathy or pity.  (Trust me, I get looks of pity all the time - and it's not so fun.)  I just think people see me (and Gianna) in public fairly often - doing what we do - living our lives with whatever semblance of normalcy we can - and there is an assumption that life isn't so hard. People often tell me that are so impressed that we are doing so well. Sometimes I correct them, "Oh, I'm not okay - but I am managing." I feel like an absolute WRECK 90% of the time.

I'm learning how much energy it takes to do 'normal' things - especially in public.  Going to birthday parties, weddings (brutal), and church (longest hour of my week) are not always miserable - but it takes every bit of energy to survive them.  Even just to grocery shop it takes me isles and isles of Hail Mary's just to make it to the car without losing it.  And just because you don't see me cry or Gianna fall apart - doesn't me we don't.

There are SO many people who are struggling with all sorts of pain and grief which I'm sure is amplified during this holiday season - you know, the happiest time of the year.  I wonder how many people in our lives are begging to be reached out to and are suffering in silence as the rest of us complain about too many party invitations, how we'll manage to get our shopping done and how we don't have anything to wear for Christmas day.  Yeah, it's all small potatoes, folks. Even if you pick an angel off a tree at the mall to buy presents for, even if you donate a Christmas basket at church - this just a reminder to actually  connect to with real people - in person (facebook and texting is a nice 2nd best - but isn't the same as a phonecall or visit). 

* * * * * * * * * * *

Before I close, I do want to say that there are times of joy and fun and normalcy in my daily life.  I know I seem morose - and I am, I guess - but I am not hopeless or without faith - just walking through the fire of this journey of grief.  The very best thing that people tell me is that they are praying for us - all of us - Iain too. Thank you to all those people who have continued to lift us in prayer.  May you be richly blessed.

Muddy Puddles

Lately, Gianna has become smitten with a sweet little British cartoon:  Peppa Pig.  There little five minute short videos are strung together to form a 30 minute show found on Nick Jr. As a matter of fact, Gianna started calling Iain, "Datty" before he died and it took us a weeks to realize she was sporting her best British accent.

Anyway, this cute little family of pigs LOVE muddy puddles and pounce about giggling all the while.

Gianna thought it was more than enticing when she found a muddy trough on the firetruck at the park.  I heard a maniacal laugh and saw mud and water flying all about.

Looks like someone was recreating her favorite cartoon.

 

 Gross.

 AND it was much colder than we anticipated.  Good job, Mommy.

And this little runt may have well been a pig.  She could not have been happier. 

Hmmm.  Do you think the laughing adults and the videotaping momma were helpful in deterring the behavior?

Southpaw no more?

Since Gianna was a baby, she has favored her left hand.  She's always eaten with her left hand, drawn and colored with it and reached with it.....until recently.

Interestingly, her pediatrician noticed early on she favored her left hand and I made some comment about her being a lefty.  She told me, "Don't call it until she's three."  She went on to say that both her girls used their left hands exclusively and then when they approached three years old, they both switched to the right hands. 

As fascinating as that was, I figured it was a family trait and really didn't think it would apply to my child.  But guess what?????????  Just a couple of months before her third birthday, she's using her right hand.......A LOT.   She's using both still, but it will be interesting to know which hand will be dominant.  As it stands, it looks like she'll be southpaw no more.

25 Random Things About Me

A while back there was a popular Facebook trend where people shared 25 Random Things about themselves.  It was such fun reading people's creative thoughts and tidbits about themselves.  I saved mine for a day when I had nothing to blog about or no time to blog.

 In light of the fact that I'm having a garage sale tomorrow and an open house on Sunday, and my camera is in the shop - it looks like the time has come. 
 Lucky you! ;)

(On one of the rare days I straightened my hair.)

1. My dad used to tell me they almost named me Cinderella – then I’d be Cinderella Tartamella. (My dad STILL thinks he’s funny.)
2. I can remember some of the dreams I had when I was three and four years old.
3. I love bananas, but dislike anything flavored like banana; I’m not a big watermelon fan, but love anything watermelon flavored. Go figure.
4. Right before I had to give an address to a crowd of 2,000 people, my friend (on the stage) saw a spider crawling on my back. He flicked it off with his program just before I had to speak.  About halfway through my speech, I found out where it ended up…….my cleavage. Aaaaagh! It crawled it’s way out (it’s a wonder it lived!) and I flicked it off for good....during my speech.
5. It took me a LONG time to find my true love…..but it was well worth the wait.
6. I met my husband on a blind date.
7. I had only had one bridesmaid at my wedding…..and ten priests!
8. I saw Pope John Paul II and Mother Theresa in person....each twice.
9. I never knew why they call them “Buffalo Wings” until recently.
10. I love watching the Food Network, TLC and HGTV, but equally enjoy the guilty pleasure of watching trashy reality shows on Bravo and E! (Giving them up was one of my Lenten sacrifices - and I'm happy to report that I really haven't missed them.)
11. I moved to Louisiana from Long Island, NY when I was 11. Was devastated to leave then – don’t ever want to leave now.
12. My dad went on five mission trips to Nicaragua. My husband is originally from Nicaragua. People continue to ask if my dad brought him home for me as a souvenir. (The nerve!)
13. On October 1, 2007 we turned in our adoption profile to our agency. I emailed our friends and family that day to say, “We’re done with our part; now we wait. We consider ourselves officially expecting.” Our daughter was born July 1, 2008…..exactly 9 months later. I took that as God’s sign that she was ours…and He’s been proving that reality ever since.
14. Upon meeting my grandmother’s not-so-couth little doctor, she gave me a head-to-toe glance and boldly proclaimed, “My, aren’t you sturdy!?” (Since then, I no longer use the word 'sturdy' and have banned the use of it in my home….except to quote this crappy little story burned in my memory.)
15. I have an amazing memory – but I often don’t trust it.
16. I love, love, love taking pictures editing them and making digital slide shows and photo books.
17. I used to think I was smart – until I tried a sudoku puzzle…I solved it – just at the pace of a “slow-learner.”
18. My favorite techie invention (next to blogging and FB), is Tivo. Every single day, for three and a half years – I’ve said, “Gotta love the Tivo!” (You can add Netflix to the list, too.)
19. My favorite sound in the universe is a baby giggling….particularly my baby. (A close second, is the sound of a bag of Doritos being opened.)
20. I love to travel – but love coming home even more.
21. Iain and I gave each other a treadmill for Christmas. We can’t wait to use it...maybe before next Christmas. (Gianna uses it as her 'diving board.')
22. I have godchildren who are quadruplets – they're my godquads.
23. I am determined that one day I will go to Italy – it’s my dream vacation.
24. When I was a kid, I dumped an enormous jar of pennies down my shirt….we later discovered
there was $20 worth of pennies in that jar. (This one’s for you, Monique.)
25. I am a great cook, but only once did one of my 'clever creations' made it to my "WHAT WAS I THINKING?" list.  Incidentally, it's the only dish that actually made my dear husband sick...literally.  (And, no - I'm not tell you what it was. :)

"Hey Mommy, let's do a projeck!"

Anyone else finding it increasingly difficult to keep their munchkins entertained and busy without turning on the TV?  Sheesh.  If I don't have something planned - and the phone rings or something or someone else needs my attention - all sorts mayhem could errupt.

Now I will say that within the last month or two, Thanks to my mom, who drops everything to play with her for HOURS when she comes here are we go there...Gianna has learned to pretend with all of her little dolls and figures. Gianna immagination has SKYROCKETED and she can entertain herself for very long stretches of time. 

Lately I've been trying new activities with her and she has come to anticipate the "projecks" we do.  I blogged about one here, and plan to document our little experiments here on our blog.

This is a not-so-new project, but one she is finally mature enough to try without getting herself in trouble.

Hooray for Play Dough.

If any of you guys have any good ideas at this age, I sure wish you'd share 'em with us.

Ashes, Ashes....

.....we all start Lent.

I don't always look forward to Lent.  Some years I resist it.  Some years I resent it. This year I welcome it.  I'mr ready for it. It's time to focus, simplify, reflect and re-direct. I desire it. I crave it. So, instead of just looking toward Easter - I'm choosing to look inward and upward and work on my stumbling blocks.

Here are a few online resources for Lenten Reflections that I came across.  Maybe one of them will be helpful.  Please leave a comment if you know another good one.

Lenten Reflections

The Word Among Us

Lenten Reflection App for iPad or iPhone

Plotting Revenge

Okay, well I'm not really plotting revenge - but I am fantasizing about it.

Iain and I are increasingly irritated and incensed by the tortuous nights that have followed the New Year's Eve ExtravaBANGza of fireworks in our area.  That particular night was horrible because our child was up til almost 3:00am. I can tolerate fireworks, but I think it's ridiculously insensitive and rude to use 'commercial grade' cannons shooting off for over seven hours straight....in a populated suburban neighborhood.

Oh, I'm not stewing because of that one ludicrous night.  It's been the ten nights following that has me beside myself.  Every subsequent night has been horrible because we have have dealt with a screaming  toddler who is completely panicked to go to sleep (naps included.)  My well-trained, sleep-loving daughter has been traumatized by the events of that one night.  I know I'm dramatic in my descriptions sometimes, but I can honestly say that every night we listen to hours of pitiful screaming, crying, pleading and summoning. We are at our wit's end.

It's almost like she's experiencing a minor case of post traumatic stress syndrome.  It's excruciatingly sad and we are trying to be sensitive and supportive without giving in to spending our nights giving in to her demands that we rock her all night or sleep with her all night.

The first couple of nights, I did whatever she needed/wanted.  I rocked her endlessly, held her little hand, slept nose to nose with her in her toddler bed (which is no easy feat for my not-so-petite-self), and finally ended up on the floor next to her bed for hours until she was in a deep enough sleep.

When I realized that this was bigger than a little reaction to loud fireworks, my game plan had to change.  As soon as we opened her door, she'd fly through the dark - grabbing onto us pleading, "Mommy/Daddy ROCK ME!"  Many times there were no tears on her pudgy little face - which had us completely befuddled, because it really sounded as if we would find her soaking in tears.  We realized that there was manipulation going on, but it was all tangled up in this complex web of emotions.  On the third night (we could hardly move at this point) we were exasperated and thought we'd let her cry it out.  Ahhh.....how we forget what a tenacious child we have!  Ninety minutes of listening to her screaming, "MOMMY!" in her most pathetic voice - I could no longer handle it.  Now I'M suffering for Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome!   She fell asleep immediately after Iain rocked her. Poor baby was exhausted.

It's taken me two and half years to finally absorb the fact that whatever challenging stage children experience go through (like when Gianna was a baby and grunted for sport twelve hours a day) , it usually works itself out (sometimes in spite of us) within a few weeks. I really believed that until last night when she got out of bed, laid on the floor in front of the door and started crying and calling for me through the crack under the door. HOLY CANNOLI.  Brutal.

A few nights ago, I realized that she'd only cry for  'mommy' even though she was totally okay if Daddy showed up to rescue her.  So over the weekend I thought it might help if Iain was the only one who went in.  Frankly, I don't think that did didly.

Oh, and then there was the stage, where I promised her a prize if she when through the night without crying.  It worked one night - probably because she was exhausted.  But then it was back to business as usual. 

Last night we started a new game plan.  I went back to the good ol' sleep training method where after five minutes, we go in - comfort and leave.  Next time we go in after 10 minutes, 15 minutes, etc. with the hope that she'll 1) feel like we're responding to her needs, and 2) fall asleep at some point during one of the stretches.

When we got to the twenty minute stretch, I told Iain I would go in next.  I did.  Even though we had already prayed at the beginning of the bedtime ritual, I started again.  LOTS of praying. Praying decades of the rosary, praying prayers of protection, comfort and peace over her.  The whole while, her little hand just patted my shoulder. Every now and then when I'd take a breath, she'd say, "More prayers?"  As I concluded the litany of prayers, she lifted her head from my shoulder and said, "I bless you, Mommy."  *melt*  I put her down and without a peep, she rolled over and fell asleep. It's 5:45 am - and she's actually slept through the night.  (I haven't, obviously, but I'll take that trade-off any day!)

So, thank you, God, for helping our little one rest.  Thank you, God, that this silly little hiccup in our parenting effort is the worst thing we're dealing with.  Please be with those parents and children whose nights are plagued with inconsolable crying due to truly horrible and unfortunate circumstances.  And please, Lord, help me to remember to always call on you FIRST and unceasingly whenever I deal with my child, my marriage, my family and my daily struggles. 

Amen.

(Oh, and please help me forgive those imbociles, thoughtless people, friendly neighbors who started this whole shebang with their one night of fireworks.)

A Surprising Friendship

Our dog Max has always loved children. He's so sweet with them and is usually beside himself when they enter our home.  When Gianna joined our family, I was shocked that he wanted little to do with her.  It was about three months before they actually acknowledged each other.

* * * * *

Between age one and two, Gianna saw Max as a play toy - and a way to get Max's (and Mommy's) attention. She all but tortured the poor dog (who is a REMARKABLY good sport.)

Within the last three months....there's been a turn of events.  A sweet little friendship has formed and they have each found a playmate in the other.  One of the funniest things that they do revolves around the game of 'fetch' with Max's toy bear.  Max never really caught on to the concept of release an object once he brings it back to you.  You have to, all but, tear it from his ferocious grip.  This is exactly what makes their game so funny. 

Gianna has realized that Max won't let go, so she uses ever one of her 29 pounds to drag Max around the house by his toy bear.  Once they get off the carpet and onto the wood floor - they take off and she'll do laps around the house with Max in tow.

It just makes me laugh.

Frustrated Mutterings

Since she was a baby, with a few episodic exceptions, Gianna has been a fantastic sleeper.  She still goes to bed early (7ish), but there is seldom an incident when she awakes at night that a quick hug and rock isn't enough to send her back to dreamland. That is, until New Years Eve.

We live outside of the city limits in a small community.  The revelers that apparently mortgaged there homes in order to buy ridiculous amounts of fireworks -  spent at least five hours on Friday night shooting what sounded like heavy artillery.  Gianna went to sleep just fine after watching a fun firework display from our sunroom window.  But around 10pm she awoke in a screaming panic.  We would take turns seeing about her and rocking her, but she BEGGED us to stay with her, sleep with her, hold her hand.  I'd never seen that before with our independent little girl.

Interestingly enough, the fireworks themselves didn't scare her.  I think being awaken from a deep sleep to what sounds like warfare is the jarring feeling that sent her into a panic.  I was FURIOUS.  The fireworks are always bad in our community....but this year took the cake.  It was excessive, insane and just plain rude.  It's not like we live in the country.  We live in a populated suburban neighborhood.  Trust me when I say that there was a plethora of threats and expletives muttered under my breath that night. 

Finally, at 2:30am, I managed to convince her that the fireworks were done for the night and negotiated a 'prize' for her if she went to sleep to morning.  Good thing I picked up a tiny LED flashlight at the drugstore the night before!

She woke up happy as a lark. Whew.....we made it through that ~ so I thought.  Every night has been a fight since then.  She was still panicking about possible fireworks waking her up.  It was getting increasingly better - until last night when a thunderstorm blew through for several hours.  She screamed her little heart out.  It was really quite pitiful. 

In her 2 and half years, she has never once even woken from the loud rumblings of a thunderstorm - and we've had some doosies!  Now, it seems like we've entered into a whole new territory, thanks to our popaholic neighbors had a grand ol' time on New Years Eve. 

For two hours last night I slept on her floor.  That was the only way she would semi-sleep. Finally by 2:30, she managed to sleep hard enough for me to go back to our bed.  UGH. 

She was difficult today around mid-morning and I know it's because she was exhausted.  Now it's affecting our nights AND our days.  I'm just so irritated. 

I thought writing this out would make me feel better.  Apparently I was wrong. :/ But I supposed that if this is the worst I have to complain about - it's not so bad.  Oh well.  Another day in the life...

...and a half

Happy Birthday .....and a half!

Today, this little monkey is two and a half! 

Whew - this ride is going fast.

I'm hoping these next six months toward her third birthday are filled with a whole lot more laughter, learning, love and little moments of heaven.

I also hope her that she and her mommy learn to handle all the challenges that come our way with more finess, grace, kindness and patience.

Happy New Year to all of you!

Thank you for taking the time to check in with us from time to time.

"NO" - a 'yes' in disguise!

No.  It's a tiny little word yielding a tremendous amount of power.  It can be frustrating to hear and frightening to say.  It can be an ending or a beginning.  It is mostly perceived as negative, but can be the gateway to many positive things.

I know you are thinking that this post will be about my two year old's use of the word, but it's not.  It's really not even about the word -- just the meaning behind it.

Let's rewind many years to session of spiritual direction.  I was working in ministry.  I was stretched thinner than I had ever been and was seriously suffering from the 'Need to Please Disease."  All the things I was involved in at the time were wonderful ways of giving to others....but I was miserable.  I just couldn't figure out a fix.  I felt obligated, required and called to 'do good' (and probably to 'look good' by 'doing good.')

Well, my spiritual director questioned my need to say 'yes' to most everything that was asked of me.  I was a little confused, because I really believed I was doing the right thing and that I was making God very proud.   "No." seemed so harsh and negative and shameful to me.  I will never forget her words to me...

"Ah, Maria.  It is "no's" that give much more meaning and power to each of your "yeses." 

Even though I've come such a long way since that dismal time in my life, I continually have to be reminded about that truthful nugget of wisdom - especially now that I must be a model for my daughter.

Lately, I've had to use my no's quite a lot. I expected to be filled with guilt and maybe even a touch of shame. I've been surprised to have found quite the opposite. I am filled with relief and peace.


One example was a recent choice to participate in a women's study circle - one of the few things I've done for myself lately.  It got so stressful and frustrating with my husband's increased work schedule, other unexpected issues coming up and figuring out how to parent my challenging two year old.  I backed out. "No."  I had to give myself permission to quit something I'd started. I looked at all the busy moms of many kids who were able to keep that commitment - and sighed.  Then I took a deep breath and got over myself and then found peace.  There will be time for that in another chapter of my life.

Another 'no' was to a ministry - serving on the Board of Director's of the Pro-Life Agency largely responsible for our adoption.  It started out a do-able commitment, which snowballed into a consuming effort.  There was major guilt involved in this one.  ("But you're helping to save babies!" someone told me. Ugh.)  I mulled over this one for a while, prayed about it and finally realized that there was one baby that I was given TREMENDOUS responsibility for....MINE!  I chose to stay home so I can be here when she needed me, when she was sick, when she was going through rough stages, so I can enjoy every bit of her.  It became clear to me that my 'no' was a YES in disguise.  It was near impossible to feel guilty about saying yes to my family. 

As we meander our way through this season of Advent, we remember another woman who's 'no' gave meaning to her ultimate YES. The 'no' was to her own will....her own plans.....her own dreams that she had for her life.  That YES became our Savior.

My prayer is that we can all still ourselves enough to know what we are called to say no and yes to.  Happy Advent.

The Advent Wait

When I was little we never saw our Christmas tree during Advent. Never. The tree would magically appear in our front room on Christmas morning lit and completed decorated and surrounded by shiny packages and gifts. It was magical, and frankly, I don't know how my parents ever pulled that off.  It was impressive.

When we moved from New York to the South, we were more than surprised when we realized that many, if not most, people put their trees up the day after Thanksgiving (or before!)  That was a foreign concept to me.  I just love the Christmas decorations, but it seemed that people were overlooking Advent and jumping straight to Christmas. I was adament that I would carry on the family tradition of waiting to decorate.  Maybe I became a tad bit judgemental of that practice of decorating so early.....until I became an adult.

As an adult I was so excited to have my own Christmas tree and have collected beautiful ornaments over the years.  When I was single I'd wait to week of Christmas to decorate.  Because I was working long hours, I was exhausted, WAY behind of Christmas shopping and that week ended up being so stressful, that my focus on the true meaning of Christmas was compromised.  Plus, it was a lot of work only to be taken down a couple of weeks later. After a few years of doing that, I was frustrated and wanted to give in to the temptation of decorating early.  I was really conflicted because I didn't want to sell out and subscribe to the whole marketing madness that seems to lose the entire focus of these two holy seasons, but I wanted to really enjoy the season.

A few years ago, I really had to think things through.  The holidays were a depressing time for me.  I wanted to be married and have a family and it seemed that's what this season was centered around.  I often felt frustrated, sad and forgotten.  And then on top of that I was denying myself the small pleasure of sprinkling my home with lovely and nostalgic surroundings.  I thought, discerned, prayed - and this is what I came up with:  The season of Advent is about waiting and preparing - not about home decor.

My entire adult life has been an intense practice in waiting.  I've waited for clarity in terms of a career. I waited during a long (unchosen) vocation as a celibate, single Catholic woman in ministry for the vocation I longed for in my heart - marriage. And that was a LOOOONNNNGGG wait.  I waited to become a mother through miscarriage, subsequent infertility and an adoption roller coaster. Those are some of the bigger ones, but there have been MANY lessons in waiting for me.

And the key about Advent isn't just about the wait.  It's about what is WITHIN the wait.  I believe God hides Himself in our times of waiting - and when we embrace the wait, learn to wait well, and prepare our hearts --- it's then that we embrace God - and allow Him to embrace us.  And even though we associate typical waiting with anxiety - there is a special peace learning to embrace our waiting and to be still enough to find God there.

I saw this video this morning and thought it was magnificent reflection and challenge about Advent.

And this Advent, we are still waiting. We have recently decided to move, so there is waiting involved in the many unkowns in that realm.  This year's wait also involves God's revelation wheter or not He will grow our family.   I haven't blogged much about our adoption updates this go 'round but have recently updated our adoption blog. Somehow I think waiting and surrendering control go hand in hand.

I'm chuckling as I read this post, because my home is still decorated for fall. Even though I've given myself permission to jump into the holiday decorating earlier ~ I've also given myself permission to not be too driven to make it happen. Things have been busy, and it will get done, but I'm enjoying letting things go and doing the best we can without stressing ourselves out.

For those of you who might enjoy an Advent meditation, I found this article about knowing how to wait.

Apparently there's a trend developing...

 I wonder if there are tryouts for the toddler version of Flashdance?