Becoming a Big Girl

Have you ever met a toddler that does not insist that they are "a big girl" or "a big boy"?  Our favorite quote of Zachary's is, "Zachy no baby.  Zachy big boy."  He was almost two.  The "big girl" in our house is now narrowing in on three.  In so many ways, she is becoming a big girl.  She can dress herself -- down to the shoes and all; she can ride a tricycle; she can even unload the dishwasher.  She also could tell me the second she pooped or peed.  (Do you get where I'm going with this?)  And then she would immediately insist on a new diaper.  And if a new diaper was not forthcoming, the whole neighborhood heard about it.  It was time.  I knew it.  She knew it.  The neighbors knew it.  It was time to potty train.

Let me give you a little back story as to how I feel about potty training.  Annalise was the easiest child on earth to potty train.  I swear I remember it taking about a day; maybe a bit longer for the pooping.  And she hardly ever had an accident.  It was easy.  Piece of cake.  But she was the easiest toddler ever.  And what does God give you when you've had an easy toddler?  Zachary.  Zachary was not the easiest toddler on earth.  And I'm convinced he was the hardest child ever to potty train.  In fact I am scarred for life.  In my opinion potty training is the worst task a parent has to strike off their list.  (But I have yet to have teenagers, so stay tuned for that opinion to change.)

But it was time.  And I had the time.  The big kids had a whole week off from school for Thanksgiving.  The next break they would have is at Christmastime, and that wouldn't work if we also had to fit in a very loooooong drive to Arizona to see the in laws.  And frankly I was tired of the diapers... Tired of changing them; tired of paying for them; tired of being yelled at because of them.  So Thanksgiving it was.  We gave Juliette all sorts of warnings that it was coming.  She seemed excited, expecially since we attached potty training to a new "big girl" room.  (We're still not sure what that means yet!)  So Thanksgiving vacation came and we stocked up on stickers, a poster for her door reading "Juliette is using her potty!" (which was, of course, a total lie for quite a few days), M&Ms and Dollar Store prizes.  Oh and potties.  All sorts and varieties of potties.  We were ready!

Unfortunately the pee was not so ready.  We quickly learned that Juliette has a bladder like Jason's in that it can hold a whole gallon of pee.  We would go hours of sitting and trying, eating M&Ms and nothing.  And then an accident on the kitchen chair or on the dining room floor.  After three days I was ready to throw in the towel.  And then a little success on day four and then regression again.  I was ready to hang myself.   Finally after a week, we had a break through.

It was Saturday morning.  The kids were due to go back to school on Monday and I was so frustrated and torn.  I didn't know what to do.  Once the kids were back in school, we would be back to carpools and soccer practice, dance class and running all over town.  We would not have a bathroom at our beck and call.  Juliette was particularly clingy that morning.  She wanted to watch a movie.  (The answer to this was yes, as the potty training kid gets to do a whole lot of whatever they want during potty training in the Evans house.)  And she wanted to cuddle.  You should also know that Juliette is my least cuddliest kid.  This is through some cruel trick of nature.  The mommy who wants to cling on to her last baby needs a baby who likes to cuddle!!  It's a total bummer.  But on this day she did want to cuddle.  And that child laid on my chest for an entire movie!  She cuddled and buried her head in my shoulder and did all those cute things that babies are supposed to do.  And we talked.  We talked about how she is a big girl now, but she will always be my baby.  It was an honest conversation with no alterior motive.  But somehow it was just what Juliette needed.

That afternoon, Juliette was potty trained.  She still has accidents on occasion, but I can firmly say that she is potty trained.  It's like a miracle to me!

So even my girl who is so insistent that she is a BIG girl and NOT a baby needed to be babied a bit.  Potty training has to be one of the great stresses of babyhood, behind weaning and learning to sleep by oneself.  My big girl just needed some reassurance that she is still my baby.  I have tried to reassure her that even when she has babies of her own that she will always be my baby.  I am grateful to be able to cross potty training off my list.  And I am grateful, too, that now when Juliette needs to be babied a bit, she will not scream for her diaper to be changed.  She will ask for a cuddle.  That's the best kind of babying there is.

Man, I Love my Village!

Since becoming a parent, I can't tell you how many times I've repeated the famous quote, "It takes a village to raise a child."  This year that line is more true for me than ever.  Perhaps you've read my blog before and noticed huge gaps in time in between posts.  This is because I am BUSY!!  Besides the three kids and their three very different schedules, I have as always, over-extended myself with volunteer jobs and now I am working more than I have since Annalise was born.  It's a lot to juggle and I am feeling very overwhelmed at times.  The past two nights, I have put myself to bed before nine, which does not ever happen unless I am sick.  But I'm exhausted.  I'm having a hard time balancing it all, which we all know is where I fall short so often anyway.  It is a tough year, but I do have things in perspective.  I know how hard everything is for other people.  And next year, with Zachary in school all day and Juliette in two mornings a week, the juggling will become somewhat easier.  I hope! 

I think as Americans, we have this attitude that we have to do everything ourselves.  If we ask for help, if we admit that we need help, then we somehow have failed.  And so we often flounder on our own, not thinking to reach out our hand to the person standing just next to us to ask for help.  I have been guilty of this so much myself.  And then a wonderful thing happened.  A year ago, I had to have surgery.  And I had no choice but to ask for help.  My husband, my mom, and a multitude of friends stepped up and helped out in ways I couldn't even imagine.  They took care of me in so many ways: they made meals, and they took care of my children.  They recognized when I was trying to dive back in too early and pushed me back out of the pool and took care of everything for a much longer time than any of us anticipated.  What I learned through that was that people were not resentful for having to help.  They were not begrudging.  They were willing and happy to help.

This year because of my crazy work schedule, my desire to take a parent ed class with Juliette, Zachary's afternoon kindergarten schedule (which I wanted and asked for), my mom's crazy volunteer schedule being crazier than ever and occasionally Juliette's naps running overboard, I have had to rely on friends more than ever.  And my friends have been AMAZING!  I like to think that I am returning the favor, if not completely this year, than in the years to come as well.  Because the amazing thing that has happened is that I have found that my friends need me too.  One friend had to unexpectedly leave for a few days this week to attend a funeral.  In a matter of hours, through a few emails, her girls were completely taken care of for the week.  We all happily stepped in to take the girls to and from school, to dance classes and playdates.  Truthfully, it's easy.  My kids are happy to have friends over, I'm happy that they're happy and my friend can focus on being present at the memorial service and know that her girls are taken care of.

When I was a kid, I wasn't too thrilled to live in a town where everyone knows everyone else's business.  (My brother, as a first grader on his way home from school, throwing lemons at cars, really didn't like this.  My mother knew before he even walked in the door.)  But this same town where everyone knows everyone else's business, also supports each other.  Sometimes everyone's business is just gossip.  But sometimes it's knowing when a friend is in need and stepping up to support her.  This year, though I sometimes feel like a mooch, I know that my village knows that I am here to support them in their times of need as well.  My village kicks ass and I wouldn't change my village for anything.

Loud Girls

In the other room right now are four eight or nine year old girls.  Three of these girls I have known since they were in kindergarten.  (Well, one is my own, so I've known her a little longer.)  The fourth is new to their school this year, and therefore new to me as well.  When the fourth girl joined our Brownie troop this year, her mother was somehow sold a bill of goods (by me).  She was told that our troop was made up of several girls who are shy, a little timid, sometimes a bit socially awkward, slow starters, uncomfortable in new situations, etc. etc.  I swear, if you saw our Brownie troop in June, this is exactly what you would have seen.  And then third grade started.

Somehow third grade has created completely different animals.  This was evident from the first time I had a whole gaggle of girls here (about week two of school).  We walked here from school, about a fifteen minute walk, and the conversations did not stop for the entire walk, the entire playdate, until the last girl was picked up and deposited in her own home.  When I peeked in on the girls, they were dancing and singing at the top of their lungs, putting on some bazaar show for the girls who looked back at them in the mirror.  These girls did not lack confidence.  They were not shy in front of brand new friends.  They were completely and totally comfortable in their own skin.  And LOUD.

When Zachary has friends over I expect them to be boisterous, rambunctious, bouncing off the walls, and constantly having to be shushed if Juliette is sleeping.  But Annalise's playdates have always been much quieter; the girls preferring to disappear into Annalise's room for vast amounts of time, only surfacing to eat or use the bathroom.  They may have been napping in there for as quiet as they were.  The other difference I've noticed is that Zachary and his friends are constantly negotiating what they will play next, changing their minds, and then another back and forth about the next activity.  Annalise's friends usually make a suggestion and Annalise just goes along.  Many of her friends are like this.  They will just go along with the crowd.  But this is not the case so much anymore.  These girls in my house right now all have opinions and are not afraid to voice them.  Even Annalise, the queen of going along with any suggestion, is actually voicing her opinions and being heard.

These girls have grown up a bit, but mostly their friendships have grown up.  These girls who have now known each other for years have finally truly accepted the friendship.  They now trust in each other -- enough to speak their minds and know that they will still be liked, respected and listened to.  They are now free to be themselves in front of their friends.  They are free to be the crazy, goofy, opinionated girls that we, as their parents, have seen for years.

In a small town like ours, people move in and stay.  People do not move away.  (Actually they do move away: they leave to go to college, have a single life, get married and start a family.  But when it comes time for their kids to start school, inevitably, we come back.)  Annalise will be stuck with these kids for the next ten years of her life.  What a blessing it is for her to have found friends who know her and love her and listen to her and respect her for the crazy, goofy, opinionated girl that she is.  These girls in the other room will very likely be her friends for life.  They will share in each others' ups and downs, triumphs and collapses.

So, yes, I unknowingly sold a mom (also my friend) a bill of goods.  But what her daughter got is so much more: a group of lovely, loud girls who trust in each other.

It's Christmas Again!

It's Christmas again, my favorite time of the year. Like last year, we are doing things simply. The kids will get some gifts, of course, and even something off their list. But I am trying hard not to emphasize that aspect of Christmas. I am really trying to focus on what I think Christmas should be all about -- giving to others and spending time with the ones you love. Last year we LOVED having something special to do each day of advent. This year, the kids are into it even more. Every morning the first thing they do is run to see the day's activity. And with Zachary a year older, he is able to really participate and enjoy everything so much more. He was really involved in making the fudge for our neighbors this year, becoming "The stirring expert." Juliette "helped" by not asking me to hold her the whole time. She mostly ate (crackers, a banana, a few chocolate chips) and moved her chair around the kitchen. She only fell off three times! One night we put her to bed early and the four of us did a jigsaw puzzle. This was also great. Zachary was a reluctant participant at first. But we let him choose the puzzle and when he realized he could do it, he loved it. Now he's asking to do puzzles. We are having a wonderful time just being together, doing simple, Christmasy activities. It also forces us to have some calm, usually in the evenings after Jason comes home, before bed time. This time is calm for many people, but in our house, things are a little frantic. "Eat your dinner! Take a bath! Wash your hair! Brush your teeth! How many books? I want cuddles!" We are trying to sloooooow things down a bit. (We should probably do this all year!) So far it has been a very happy holiday!

Our Own Private Forest

Though we live about 20 minutes from downtown LA, and there is a major freeway bissecting our town, I usually feel like I live a million miles from the major metropolis, at least the stereotypes thereof. People from out of state and out of town, it seems, think of people who live in LA as shallow, rich, shopaholic, plastic and botoxed and obsessed with celebrity culture. I'm sure there's some truth to this for many Angelinos and probably many people in our own little town. But as I walk or drive around town, I am much, much more likely to see women in sweats, their hair in a ponytail, walking a big dog than someone in the latest fashion, with a face unrecognizable to their high school friends and a dog in their purse. The original purpose of our little town was to be in "the country." It seems that much of that original purpose has been replaced by suburban shopping centers, SUVs and houses that fill an entire lot. But some elements remain. We still have very few street lights or sidewalks. Most of the town is still not on sewers. The city is littered with trees; eucalyptus, sycamores and California oaks, some smackdab in the middle of the road. And we have our horse trails.

Today the kids and I decided to have an adventure. Inevitably, these adventures take place on the horse trail. We've been exploring different aspects of it, going for short walks, collecting pinecones and leaves. Since we are on two feet (and not four), there is only so far we can go at a time. Today we were in a new (to us) part of the trail, canopied in ancient oaks. Even though today was a holiday and a gorgeous fall day, we came across only four other people on our walk. We had the trail almost completely to ourselves. The kids made up stories about where we were as we explored what felt like our own private forest. It was beautiful, peaceful and centering; the perfect way to forget about the stress of every day life. How lucky that we are to have all this right here in our own town. My kids were so excited to see two "big kids" who were having their own adventure, scouting spots for a scene in their "movie." (OK, it is still LA.) I can't wait for them to have their own adventures without me, like my childhood friends Sarah and Heidi and I used to do. I am often envious of people who live on huge properties of land or people in other parts of the country who have woods behind their backyard. Imagine that! How quick I am to forget what is in my own backyard.

One aspect of our walk was a little sad for me, though. We didn't come across a single horse. I know there are still horses in our town. We see them. We stop our car for them when they cross the road. There is even one family who rides home from school sometimes in a horse-drawn buggy. (Seriously. How cool is that?!) But they are getting more and more obsolete. I'm afraid that one day all the beautiful horse properties in town will be filled with enormous houses, swimming pools and play equipment, the barns and stables and horse spaces converted into something else entirely. Or worse yet, someone will subdivide the land and put on two or three or four enormous houses. As you walk along the horse trails, you can see into many of the yards of the homes that back the trails. Gates in the properties make for easy access on horseback. We saw lots of stables, one with six stalls and an enormous green area where horses once ran and grazed. Not a single stable that we saw today had a horse. Some appeared to be converted into storage. One is maybe a poolhouse or a guesthouse now. But most are just empty, their rooves starting to cave in. I don't really remember because well, my memory is spotty at best. But I know that horses were much more prolific in my youth. I remember bringing along a carrot or an apple to feed the horse on the street behind mine. Horses were as much a part of our town as the schools that now define it. It seems that some of the country has left our little town, left many of the stables empty and deserted. And though I have never ridden a horse, I still dream of someday opening a gate from my backyard, leaving behind a refurbished stable and hitting the trails on horseback.

Today the kids and I collected berries and acorns, freshly fallen after this morning's wind storm. Tomorrow we will make a wreath using them to adorn our front door. It will remind me to enjoy the nature that is right around me; enjoy these simple times while my children are young enough to enjoy them with me; and appreciate what has been, what is and what will be in an ever-evolving world.

A Little Liar?

Lately Zachary has been experimenting with the truth. Mostly it is very silly, and followed by "I'm just kidding." Sometimes he takes it a little further, and tries to convince me by saying, "I'm SERIOUS! No, I am! I'm serious!" He must say this a lot, because now Juliette walks around the house saying, "I kidding!" and "I see-ous!" He's into opening the front door and ringing the doorbell and then saying, "Grandma's here!" The other day I was shocked when Tyler, our beloved neighbor, actually did appear after Zachary said, "Tyler will be here in five minutes!" I'm so used to being told that Tyler is here or Tyler is coming that this time I dismissed it as well.

I spoke to his teacher, the wise Miss Sarah (love her!) today about this, asking if lying was typical at this age. She reported that it is, but she still recommended nipping it in the bud. (She said some parents actually find the lying amusing! Seriously?!) She suggested that when he tells a tale, he needs to start it by saying, "This is a made-up story." The last thing we want to do is kill off Zachary's imagination, which is extensive. This way, he can still tell the story, but starts to understand the difference between lies and the truth, make believe and reality. I haven't tried this yet, but will give it a go!

So then the second part of this story is last night when Jason was taking out the trash, he counted about twenty candy wrappers in Zachary's trash can!! (First of all, so sly, and yet, so not sly!) He's been closing the pocket door of the kitchen lately while I'm in there cooking and closing his own bedroom door. Now I know why. So we are in the midst of this little crisis. Jason and I weren't really sure what to do for a "consequence" (not a punishment, as Miss Sarah pointed out), and we really feel that the punishment should fit the crime. But then he did suffer some immediate consequences when he couldn't fall asleep and then woke up crying in the middle of the night because his body was hurting. Well, YEAH! So we are going to lay off the sweets for a bit, and we are trying to stress that we aren't so much upset about the candy eating, but more about the sneakiness. Hopefully he has also learned that we ration the candy on purpose. His little sensitive body can only handle so much. Fortunately he hasn't figured out yet that his father and I have been doing the same thing every night! Oh Halloween candy!! I curse you!

Belly and Boobs

Almost nine years ago, I became pregnant for the first time, with Annalise. Since then, I have had four other pregnancies, including two very early miscarriages before I got pregnant with Juliette. And I have nursed for 22 months (Annalise), 25 months (Zachary) and 20 months (Juliette). Let's do the math here and realize that, minus a few months, I have spent almost all of the past nine years either pregnant or nursing. That's a long time to dedicate my body, share my body with another person. Since we plan on Juliette being our last baby (I know -- be careful what you say), now that I am done nursing her, my body is MINE for the rest of my life!! This is a crazy concept to me.

For nine years, every time I took a sip of wine or coffee, was around second hand smoke, stayed out late (and by late, I mean past a feeding time), took a Tylenol or ate a Halloween candy bar past four in the afternoon, I worried about the repercussions -- not for myself, but for the barnacle. Now, if I want to, I can drink lots of wine! I can drink a whole pot of coffee! I can take the kind of cold medicine that knocks you out so you can actually sleep and perhaps recover from said cold. Maybe I'll take up smoking! (All right, well we all know that's not going to happen, but I had to try it out to see how it sounded!)

I'm not going to become a lush. And we all know I can't handle more that a half a cup of coffee without the music getting faster or my head spinning off into outer space. But I am going to go out with my husband for a date every now and then and not worry about the babysitter putting ALL THREE kids to bed! I'll go out with my girlfriends and come home late! I'll have weekends away! I might have something that resembles a life beyond my kids. This probably sounds ridiculously far-fetched to those who haven't left the world of pregnancy and nursing and so I'll keep you posted on the progress of this whole "having a life" thing.

The truth is, part of me is in mourning over having my body all to myself again. Now that I know that my extreme uncomfortableness (yes, I'm using that as a word) with Juliette's pregnancy was caused not by the pregnancy, would my body put up with another pregnancy? Am I not too old? Could we afford another baby? (Well, the answer to that one is easy. No; we can't even afford the three we already have.) Would I have time for four children? These are all good, valid questions. But a different part of me is seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. We just bought Juliette her own potty. She is speaking in complete sentences, and therefore we usually don't have to just guess what it is she is trying to tell us. We will someday soon be able to travel without diapers and a stroller. Someday in the far, far future, without carseats. We'll be able to go for a whole day without worrying about putting someone down for a nap. Jason and I might be able to go on a little vacation just for ourselves!

I am mourning the end of the baby phase. But I am celebrating this new phase of increased independence as well.

And my babies/big kids still need me. They still like to be picked up, kissed and cuddled. Nobody soothes a hurt tummy, a fall from a scooter or bike, having a toy taken back by a big brother or sister, an asthma attack, hurt feelings or a soccer ball to the nuts like Mommy. They need me to help with homework, learn how to ride a two-wheeler and to throw Friday night dance parties. Someday they'll need me to help with broken hearts and college applications.

If I've learned anything, it's that these phases go by too quickly. I can't spend too much time reflecting on what's been and what's yet to be. I need to enjoy the little moments that happen every day. Today was a beautiful fall day spent at the park with Grandma, Juliette and Zachy. Zachary can pump on his own, but still giggled with delight when I gave him one under-dog after another. Juliette just giggled with delight and narrated the whole afternoon. When Annalise came home from school, I was greeted with, "Mommy!" and a great big hug. Life is good.

So as my boobs shrink back to their pre-nursing, pre-pregnancy size (sigh. Good bye 32G, hello 32B), I must remember how much my life has grown in the past nine years. I have the stretch marks, the differently shaped belly button, the lengthened torso (What's THAT all about???) and the widened hips to remind me of the past nine years. And I'll move forward to the next phase of independence. I'll shed a tear today, but I'll rejoice tomorrow when Annalise figures out how to pull up "Word World" on the Tivo, giving me five more minutes in the shower. Today I'll mourn that there is no longer a baby in the house. But tomorrow I'll celebrate my big kids.

Goodbye belly. Goodbye boobs. You've been good to me.