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It’s a happy Thanksgiving morning here, though the sun is not yet up to greet me.  In fact, no one is up to greet me; I find that — though I am no early bird — sometimes early morning is a good time for a little quiet time. And, I couldn’t sleep.  Bill always suggests when I can’t sleep — which is often — that instead of counting sheep, I count my blessings.  And I was doing just that this morning.

Bill and I often remark at how rich we are.  Not financially.  We are rich with blessings that are invaluable.  Of course our children top the list.  I am so grateful for my two healthy, vibrant, smart, charming, gorgeous children.  I could never have imagined how they would enrich our lives.  And I am thankful for my home, which is airy and cheery in summer and cozy in the winter, creates the backdrop for our daily shenanigans, and comfortably welcomes guests.  I am thankful for my community of church, and for our friends and neighbors, who are there in a pinch and support our need for social interaction.  I am thankful for financial security — knowing that we can afford clothes and healthy food for our children and luxuries like horseback riding lessons and a vacation now and then.  I’m grateful for my two dogs, who add whimsy to the mix.  And I’m so very, very thankful for Bill; without his presence by my side, none of this would be the same or even possible.

But today, I am really focused on my gratefulness for my parents.  My parents are a constant in my life — one that I know I have sometimes taken for granted, but, of late, I have been forced to acknowledge that their physical presence in my life will not always be a given.  Yesterday, my parents, my sister, and I took a surreal little “field trip” to visit two cemeteries.  My parents have been trying to put their affairs in order, as they say, which includes a lot of legal documentation, naming of medical and financial directors in their stead, and making final arrangements.  Fun stuff.  But I am actually very grateful for all of that.  It is NOT something anyone really wants to discuss or even face, but it brings me peace of mind to know that they are making the decisions THEY want to make, and my sister and I will not be left piecing things together in a time of unbelievable grief.

Yesterday, as we strolled the grounds of the rolling hills at Mount Moriah, my mom — ever the director, the planner — pointed out options.  I had no idea there were so many options when it comes to disposing of ashes.  There is this giant above-ground mausoleum on top of the hill, or that small garden path with buried canisters of ashes and stone markers edging the stone walkway.  Here is a marble wall you can share with a small group of others, each marked with a plaque and a small vase for flowers.  You can even purchase a hollow bench with screw-top lid, so that family members can be added as time passes.  We all had to giggle a little at this last option, which actually seems to be quite popular — because who really wants a bunch of strangers behinds plopping down on top of you for eternity?

The whole outing was surreal.  Here we are, the original Graves family of four, together on a lovely fall day.  But we’re in a cemetery.  Making decisions.  We laughed out loud together.  The girls all made a detailed pros and cons list while Dad sat idly in the car, ready to defer to whatever the women in his life wanted, as he has many times before.  We tried not to linger in any one place, on any one thought, for too long, lest the gravity of the situation rest fully on our minds.  And I couldn’t help but let my mind drift to a blurry day in the future, details unclear, when only three of us would stand in this spot.

So I awake on this Thanksgiving morning, on what promises to be another glorious fall day of family celebration, with my head heavy with the weight of reality.  Some days I feel I could collapse under that weight.  But today I choose thanks.  Thanks for my two loving parents, firmly hand-in-hand after 43 years of marriage, and the fairly tale life they created for my sister and me.  I am thankful for an idyllic childhood, the one I find myself attempting to recreate for my children.  I am thankful for the traditions they created, that I continue, that make our family unique.  I am thankful for the sacrifices they made, always with my sister’s and my best interests in mind.  I am thankful for the trip to the Grand Canyon, the camping in Colorado, the summers spent at Sammy Lane.  I am thankful for the lessons in money management (popsicles at the ice cream truck cost five times what they do at the store!).  I am thankful for the advice, whether given forcefully at the age of five, or delivered sleepily through the phone as I faced a tough final exam, or lovingly tendered as I cradled my firstborn.  I am thankful for laughter, laughter, laughter that has been ever present in our lives, even on some of our darkest days.

Today I will sit down to a meal with my husband and children, my sister, my aunt, my beloved grandma, and my parents.  What a gift.  And I am truly thankful.

Liam is changing so fast these days — learning new skills, new words, new ways to use his charm to get what he wants!  He is a charmer, with a devilish little streak from time to time.  Here are some new things that Liam is doing these days:

• Putting 2-3 words together to form simple sentences.  He is talking a ton.  One of my favorite phrases is “Hammee” (”Hand me”), as in “Hammee cookie.”  He also says “Wanno” for when he wants something — he will reach for something, saying, “Wanno wanno wanno!”  Another new phrase: “My turn.”  And of course he has learned the usefulness of a forceful “Mine!”  He has so many words, I stopped bothering to count.
• Continues to call his lovie blankies “Guh-guh”s.  Not sure where this term came from, but it has stuck.
• Is finally off the bottle before naps and bedtime.  Sometimes he asks for milk at bedtime, and we tell him its all gone, but he can have water, and he’ll take a sippy cup with a little water to bed with him.  Sometimes he doesn’t even drink it — just snuggles up with it.  During meals, he does well with an open cup.
• Likes to “color” while Lily is drawing, meaning that he does some vigorous scribbling.
• Likes to throw and kick a ball.  Is really getting into playing with all types of vehicles, and will spend a solid 20 minutes playing by himself with the train table.  Still likes to occasionally play with his “baby” (a soft little Cabbage Patch doll that he got from Santa last year) — he likes to push it in the stroller.
• One time when the baby fell on the floor, he was very concerned and asked in a sympathetic voice “Ok?”, which he hears from us all the time, “Are you ok, buddy?” after his many bumps and falls.  He also asked his firetruck if it was “ok” once when he dropped it.  Already developing a sense of empathy, which is wonderful.
• Weighs around 22 lbs.  Not exactly a linebacker in the making.
• Eats a variety of foods, but likes fruits best.  Also big into dairy — cheese, milk, yogurt.  Seems to eat a really normal amount for a toddler, but just doesn’t pack on much weight.
• Is trying more and more to go up and down stairs on his feet vs. crawling (or sliding down backwards super fast on his tummy).
• STILL working on jumping!  He has been practicing this for months and months, and has yet to actually leave the ground.  No worries, it’s a two-year-old skill (says a certain pediatric PT I know!).
• Isn’t doing so hot with shape sorters or wooden puzzles, because I forgot to dig them out of storage since Lily used them a couple of years ago.  Oops.  Our Parents as Teachers educator came recently, and asked how he was doing with those, and I was like, “Um.  Yeah, I’m not too sure.”  Embarrassing.
• Hates riding in the shopping cart.  Makes for difficult grocery trips, so I try to plan to go when he’s napping and I can leave him home with Bill.
• Continues to be a SOLID napper.  I could not be more grateful for this.  Bill and I both realize it could change at any time, but for now, Liam continues to go down around 1 or 1:30 and sleep for three (or MORE) hours.  And he will still go down for the night around 7:30 or 8 and sleep until at least 6:30 most days, sometimes later. His predictable nap schedule is what is allowing me to work one day a week without putting him in any sort of child care.  On Wednesdays, Bill flexes his morning schedule to be with the kids and get Lily to preschool, and then after lunch he works while Liam naps, and I can get a full work day in (9 to 3) before I pick Lily up from school at 3:30.  Liam’s naps allow me a much needed break on afternoons that Lily is at school, and on non-school days, she and I will often go have some “girl time,” or run errands that are challenging with both kids.  Yes, I do realize how lucky I am!
• Liam has a mini temper.  When something doesn’t go his way, he scowls and growls and starts looking for things to throw on the floor.  The other day, it was almost my laptop.  He also hits — mostly me and Lily.  The other day I was carrying him while he was mad about something, and he hauled off and smacked me squarely in the face.  I was stunned, and it hurt, and it was the final straw in a long string of misfortunes that day, and I just started to cry.  Hard.  Liam was taken aback — worriedly saying, “Mama? Mama?” over and over.  So, since this seemed to get his attention far more than a firm “No,” I have been fake crying after he hits me, and I think he’s getting the idea that it hurts people when he does that and makes them sad.  We have also started to use timeout, which is completely ineffective at this point.  He fights even being placed in timeout, and certainly doesn’t stay there for even a second. This is so reminiscent of his sister that I cringe to think about what lies ahead for all of us in the discipline department.
• Despite the occasional necessary disciplinary measures, Liam continues to be smiley and remarkably adorable most of the time.  Well, honestly, he’s adorable ALL of the time, even when he’s being a stinker.

Two months until he’s two.  Unbelievable.  This age is so much fun, I almost wish we could linger here a while.  But, time marches on, and I can’t wait to see my boy turn two!  Birthday party plans are already in the works.  (With a birthday just 10 days after Christmas, a mama has to plan ahead!)

We lost my dear, sweet grandma today, MeeMaw Nodie.  (Nodie was the name given to her when she was tiny by one of her sisters who couldn’t pronounce her name, Lenora.)  Grandma was a strong woman.  A wife and then mother at 18 years old, she did not shy away from the manual labor necessary to eek out a living on a Missouri farm in the late 1930s.  After they left the farm several years later, she continued to raise five children, including four strapping boys, in a tiny two bedroom house in northeast Kansas City.  My grandparents put cash in an envelope marked for college, even though money was always tight, in order to afford each of their children the gift of a college education.  My dad was the oldest of those five, and he can tell some great stories about his youth.  At this point in my life, I sympathize completely with my grandma, who endured much from those boys’ mischievousness.

Growing up, I was one of 13 grandchildren who would crowd into that tiny house on holidays and sunny Sunday afternoons, with so many aunts, uncles, and cousins that we had to employ nearly every room but the bathroom for dining purposes.  Anywhere that would fit a card table or a tv tray was fair game.  For me, my grandparents were a constant, unchanging entity.  Every visit would find my grandpa settled into a Grandpa-shaped indentation on the couch, while my grandma would bustle about, seemingly never sitting until the bountiful meal was served, eaten, and dishes washed, when she would treat herself to an ice-cold sweet tea on the front porch.  Her porch was full of plants and plant clippings that she was starting for new pots — aloe and philodendron bits and pieces in glasses of water and cut open milk jugs — because why spend good money on flower pots when a milk jug would do the job?  African violets will always remind me of MeeMaw.  Hers would flourish in what seemed to be challenging circumstances at best, while the clippings she sent home with me time after time would wither away in the specially formulated African violet soil and ceramic pots I purchased with determination to get the plants to thrive.

When my grandpa passed away nearly 13 years ago, my grandma didn’t want to stay a single night alone in the house they had shared for nearly 60 years.  An apartment was found — one near to several of her children, and close to her only daughter, who would be a devoted and compassionate caregiver, especially over the last few years.  And her boys were devoted, too, jokingly trying to “one up” the others by bringing her the best ribs right off the smoker or the most flavorful fish, grilled fresh.  MeeMaw adjusted to life in her little apartment, and she had a pretty steady stream of family visitors, with each of those 13 grandchildren now grown up and many of them with children of their own (35 great-grandchildren in all) dropping by regularly.

I have fond memories of my grandparents when I was a child, but as one of so many, it wasn’t until adulthood that I got to spend much one on one time with my grandmother.  How grateful I am for these last several years, during which she taught me some basic crochet stitches, and was my phone support for my first quilt, and gave me tips on how to prepare her signature scratch dinner rolls.  How lucky I feel that my children were able to know her — this amazing woman with 90 years of life experience.  MeeMaw’s house was the first place we took our tiny firstborn daughter, just four days old, wearing the dainty white crocheted bonnet that my grandma had made for her.  My son shares a middle name with MeeMaw’s oldest son, who was named for his dad.  These roots — these deep, strong roots of family — are more precious than gold.  Family was so important to my grandparents, and it is the legacy they leave.

My heart aches today.  It aches for my dad, who was very close with his mom.  It aches for my children, as I know that Liam will likely not remember my grandma, and I wonder if four years is long enough for Lily to have formed lasting memories.  And it aches for my own loss.  Despite the size of her family, Grandma had a way of making each of us feel special.  And that was part of what made her so special.  I will miss her terribly.

Thank you, Grandma, for giving us roots, so our family tree can soar skyward.

At the Graves family fish fry, June 2011

Just look at this face.  This is the face of a boy who can get away with just about anything right now.  Oh, he can be ornery, and I just shake my head smiling most of the time.  Because he is So. Stinkin’. Cute.

Liam turned 18 months on the Fourth of July.  He has the signature Tice kid blond hair and brown eyes.  He and Lily are so obviously brother and sister — I love that they share those features.  But I am realizing now that Lily has Bill’s eyes, and Liam’s are mine.  A friend of mine recently said that she thinks he has the Graves’ face.  Still, I think most strangers assume I am the nanny out with my charges when they see me with my kids.  The hair color just throws people off.

So, Liam.  Little William Walter has discovered his stinky side.  My little angel-faced baby boy from a few months ago is now frequently seen pinching, pulling his sister’s hair, stealing toys, growling his disapproval, and I swear sometimes he is cussing me out.  He will get mad about something (usually something I have to take away from him), and come at me, trying to shove me and all the while muttering little nonsensical angry-sounding syllables.  It is very funny.  He hates having his diaper changed and will swat at us as he writhes on the changing table.  When upset, he will go to the nearest surface and clear it — just start throwing everything on the floor.  When he has tired of a meal, everything gets thrown to the floor.  Bill and I have developed lightning-fast reflexes to remove the highchair tray at this point, and then we sometimes turn his chair away from the table, facing the wall, as his time-out.  He has been placed (with not much success) in time-out for infractions typically involving lashing out at Lily.  The phrase “use nice touches” is uttered by all of us repeatedly, with waning enthusiasm.

But oh my is he a charmer!  He is still most often seen smiling, dancing, practicing his “jumping” (without leaving the floor), shouting “Go!” and running off — arms pumping.  He lights up the room.  And, given stories I have heard about boys and their characteristic mischievousness, he is really pretty tame.  The highest he has climbed to date is onto the ottoman.  He really stays away from the stairs for the most part (this, after we FINALLY got stair rails installed so that we can gate the stairs, which is now usually not necessary).  He likes to get into drawers, but he is selective about what he pulls out to examine.  He doesn’t just pull everything out and dump stuff on the floor, but finds one little item of interest and carries it off.  The biggest mess he is likely to make is still just swirling the toilet brush around in the toilet.  So, all-in-all, I feel pretty lucky so far.

He is a talker.  He attempts and applies new words all the time.  Many of his words (maybe half?) are ones that only his immediate family can interpret, but his articulation is pretty clear on the others.  And he is really just a good communicator in general.  Yesterday he ran to me, gesticulating and saying, “Mama!  Cuck!”  “Is something stuck, buddy?” I asked, to which he nodded and toddled off, looking back for me to follow.  I followed him into the living room, where his little chair was wedged sideways between the two couches.  He pointed, “Cuck!” and I helped him free the chair.  So, he is also a problem solver — works on something for a while and, if unsuccessful, comes to us for help.  He has even learned to say “help” when he needs it.  He likes to shout “Mama!” repeatedly to get my attention.  It can wear on me, but at the same time, I just love hearing it.  He enjoys pointing out the obvious.  “Mama! Mama! Mama!”  “What, Liam?”  “Bug!” he’ll announce proudly, pointing at the dead fly on the floor.  (He loves bugs.  Points out any that he sees, squats down close, pointing, and then often prods it a bit with his finger.  Any longish bug, worm, centipede, etc. is called “ssssssss,” for snake.)

Here is a list of all the words Bill and I could think of that Liam says: Mama, Dada, Sissy, An-nuh (Angus), Nana, Papa, up, pup-puh (puppy), bite (as in, he’d like a bite of ANYTHING we’re eating), more (said with the sign), peas (please, also with sign), wah-wah (water), milk, baba (bottle; um, yeah, he’s still getting a bottle to wind down for nap and bedtime.  I’m not worried.), mail, go, outside, bug, shoes, cookie, cracker, bubble, juice, cheese, no (the answer to all questions, whether the answer is yes or no), poo-poo (tells me right after the fact), pee-pee, animal, help, show, Bugupagup (the only tv show that he likes to watch: Bubble Guppies), bowl, ice cream, baby, ball, pool, hi, hello (into the phone), bye-bye.  He also says moo, cack-cack (quack), and he makes a pretty respectable pig snort.

Liam won’t have his 18-month check-up until mid-September, because he is a second child and appointments are made when it occurs to me, not necessarily at the appropriate time.  So I won’t have any official stats until then.  But, our trusty home scale indicates he is about 22 lbs.  He measures _____ inches tall.  He wears 12-18 month clothes, except for shorts because, like his sister, he is skinny in the waist and has to wear 6-12 month shorts to keep them up.  Shoes are holding steady at a size 3.5.  He’s a petite kid, I guess, but people are always saying he looks tall — I guess because proportionately he is taller and leaner.  He is certainly NOT tall for his age.  Liam goes to bed at 7:30, sleeps 12-14 hours at night, and takes a 2- to 3-hour nap at 1:30 in the afternoon.  Solid sleeper, thankyoulord.  He is neither a big eater nor a particularly picky eater.  He likes most fruits more than anything, and, like all the Tices, loves his cheese.

Liam loves to be outside, enjoys the water (can hold his breath and go under water already!), likes a few toys (his cell phone, his baby, various vehicles), and requests one tv show (and only watches for about 10 min).  He is pretty attached to his blankies (has two, calls them both “guhn-guh” — no idea why), needs them for naps and nighttime, and any time he is upset.  He is able to open the freezer door, point to the ice cream, and ask “i ceam?”  He likes for us to read him books.

Love him.  He’s still a treat, though sometimes a stinker, too, these days.  He brings me joy everyday, even first thing in the morning when he’s smiley in his crib and I’m all sleepy and groggy, and that’s saying something!  Happy 18 months, Buddy!

Summer is flying by, and I have been completely neglecting the blog.  It does often feel like an obligation, and it falls low on my list of priorities when my downtime is so rare and precious.  But, since I don’t scrapbook, and the only entry into Liam’s baby book is his newborn footprint, this blog is really the only record I have of my children’s childhood.  And I know I will appreciate later the work I put into it now, so I am going to try to back up and record some of our summer 2011 memories thus far.  The Type-A part of me (because I am kind of a mixed bag, frankly) feels itchy that these events are out of order and past due.  But I feel at this point, it’s better to go back than to skip ahead.  Lily’s birthday party, our family trip to the lake, Bill’s and my anniversary trip to Colorado, Liam’s 18-month update — all of these events deserve to be documented.

So, backward I go!

Scene: In the car, Lily has begged me for the half-full bottled water that is sitting in the cup holder, saying she is soooooo thirsty.  I finally relent and hand her the bottle, with the useless warning to “be careful.”  Lily proceeds to handle the bottle a bit to vigorously and I again assert, “Quit messing around back there or you are going to end up spilling it.”  Seconds later, she fumbles the bottle, and it pours out on the floor.

Me:  “Ugh, Lily! I told you not to mess around with it.”

Lily:  “Well it’s not my fault.  It’s YOUR fault!

Me:  “Really?  It’s MY fault?  How in the world is it MY fault?”

Lily:  “Well you gave it to me!”

And I concede yet another argument to my preschooler.

I planned to do quarterly updates on Liam in this, his second year.  The weeks just keep slipping by.  But I have at least made a few notes to myself along the way.  Now I just want to jot these things down as a matter of record.

• Liam had a well-check at 15 months, and he was 20.6 lbs and _____ inches tall.  He is pretty on-target for clothing sizes, and he measured a size 3.5 for his first pair of real shoes (a few months ago), but we started him in a 4 to allow for growth.
• At a year, I really couldn’t say Liam had any solid words — just a lot of mamamama and dadada, but not specific for each of us.  His first consistent word was “up,” at around 13 months.  At 15 months, his vocab included: mama and dada (though still not consistently the right one; he sometimes trails after Bill calling “mamama!”), bye bye, hi, sis-sis, Annuh (Angus, which he love to walk around the house calling out: “Aaaan-nuh!”), cack-cack (what does the duck say?), cack-cuh (cracker).  He also signs more, all done, please, want, milk, drink, flower, book, and hot.  (Funny story: we taught him to pat his head as the sign for “hat,” but one time soon after when we told him something was hot, he signed “hat,” and it just stuck.  Now whenever he sees something with steam rising off of it, he starts furiously signing hat.  He also recently started saying the word “hot” along with it.)
• Liam continues to love to play on the stairs, and we continue to have a crazy assemblage of a gate held up with a dining chair to block access.  It was supposed to be a temporary fix, but until we have a railing and spindles built on the staircase, this is working.  He likes to slide down stairs on his bottom.  He moves pretty fast these days — almost running.  He loves for us to chase him (particularly when he has grabbed something he’s not supposed to have), and he laughs and laughs the whole time.
• Liam is not really a big eater or a light eater.  He is willing to eat a variety of foods, but he seems to like fruit the most.  He is still taking a bottle of milk before nap and bedtime, and we are working to break that habit, mostly out of concern for his teeth.
• Speaking of teeth, he has a lot: 14 total, with the recent addition of his top two canines.  The bottom two may be making an appearance soon.  Each time he gets teeth, he is fussy and a bit drooly, and he also usually has a low-grade fever and bad diapers for a few days (I’ve heard that happens with some kids?), but thankfully he rarely has sleep disturbances, other than maybe a brief waking and fussing, then back to sleep.
• Liam goes to bed between 7 and 7:30 and sleeps until anywhere from 7:30 to as late as 9.  Nice.  He also naps routinely for 3 hours, sometimes as long as 4.  Super nice.  Since Lily was always a cat napper, I hardly dared to dream of such things.  Around 15 months Liam dropped to the one nap, and he now typically goes down somewhere between noon and 2, depending on when he woke that morning and how busy/occupied he is until that time.  If kept busy, especially outside, he will hang on a little longer.
• Activities Liam enjoys: chasing Angus, roaming around the house, cleaning toilets with the toilet brush (hence all bathroom doors have to remain closed), pushing cars around on the floor, swinging, being pulled around in the wagon, being outdoors, reading books on our laps (has a few favorites), bath time, snacking (has a disgusting habit of finding and eating some dried-up crumb of something in his highchair that escaped clean-up), “talking” on the phone (lots of “hi!”), pushing buttons on the remotes, dragging things out of kitchen drawers and cabinets, getting the bag of dog treats out of the drawer and then calling “Aaaaaan-nuh!”  He is not into TV much at this point.

Liam is very charming and oh so fun to be around.  He can occasionally be super whiny and clingy, but there’s usually a reason.  He can sometimes be loudly demanding.  But for the most part, he continues to be a treat.  Bill and I are both loving having a boy around.  I can’t even really pinpoint the differences, but it’s different, which makes things novel the second time around.  I remember really enjoying age one to two with Lily — so much growth and development, and personality really starts to shine.  Once again, this is proving to be a very fun age!

Oh, my — I have a FOUR-year-old.  And she is amazing – a brilliant, shining star of a girl.  She makes me so proud — proud of her compassion for others; proud of her creative mind, proud of her verbal ability, proud of her kind heart.

She is such a blessing, but the last year or so has also been a challenge.  Everyone warned that the “Terrible Twos” have nothing on the threes, and I must agree.  Lily’s assertion of her independence from an early age really took a turn toward defiance and uncooperativeness during her three-year-old year.  Few requests/commands are met with compliance — most elicit elaborate discussions, arguments, melt-downs, and flat-out defiance or ignoring.  I have checked out books from the library with titles like Parenting Your Strong-Willed Child, and scoured them for suggestions — anything new to try, or at least some insight into her headstrong mind.  I think if I reviewed my earlier writings about Lily, even from age one, I would see a common theme.  Bill and I continually revisit our goal to help her hone her willfullness and persistance into self-reliance and perseverance — traits that will make her a force to be reckoned with someday (especially combined with her charm, beauty, and kind-heartedness).

A few notes about my Lily-girl:

• She is about 38″ tall and weighs about 27 lbs.  Size 3T clothes are still a good fit, but I sometimes have to size down to get a good fit in the waist of skirts and pants — often size 2T.  Shoe size is a 7, but starting to move toward an 8.
• She goes to bed (lights out) around 8, and sleeps until about 6:45.  We are working on getting the bedtime routine down to under 30 minutes (getting ready for bed, brushing teeth, two books, two songs).  She recently acquired a digital alarm clock (pink, of course) to help her know when she is “allowed” to get up in the morning — when the first number is a 7.  This has not stopped her from coming into our room most mornings between 6:30 and 7.  She doesn’t take a daily nap anymore, but we do occasionally insist that she take one when we can see it is really needed.  Honestly, it would probably still benefit her everyday to take a nap, but the fight to get her down is usually just not worth it, especially when she sometimes wakes crabbier than before.  She gets out of bed and comes into our room a couple of nights a week — usually saying she is scared.  I think she wakes because she has to go to the bathroom, but once awake, I can understand why she would be a bit scared because her room is one floor away on the opposite end of the house.  So I usually take her to the bathroom and then tuck her back in, sometimes even giving in to her request to stay with her for a while until she is asleep or close to it.
• Lily is a great big sister.  Just last night at dinner, Bill and I were smiling because she was so encouraging to Liam — telling him what a big boy he was for not making a mess of his food.  She’s not a little mama, though; she really doesn’t mother him.  She sometimes likes to help feed him bites of something with a spoon, but that’s about it.  Usually she just interacts with him as a sister.  And there is plenty of toy-grabbing and complaining that he is in her stuff, but she also looks out for his safety, and she likes to show him some points of interest in their journey together.  He finds her entertaining, though he protests that sometimes her hugs are a little too tight.
• Lily says the darnedest things.  When recalling some of her birthday gifts today, she remembered that one of her friends gave her “that Barbie horse and that Barbie human,” which made me laugh out loud.  Recently we were talking about butterflies (one of her favorite things), and I asked her what happened between the caterpillar stage and the butterfly and, without hesitation, she replied gleefully, “Chrysalis!” I think they had been discussing this in her preschool class recently, but still, her recall is remarkable.  I really need to do a better job of writing down the funny and sometimes amazing things she says.
• Lily can count to 29, missing only one or two of the late teens.  She can count items in a picture up to 10 or 12, but sometimes accidentally counts an item or two twice.
• She continues to progress toward reading.  She can recognize a few sight words, and she can pick out a word on the page given familar context, based on the beginning letter.  She can identify the starting letter of many words, with the exception of blends (like /sh/ or /th/), and vowels still give her a little trouble.  She can spell and write her name, but could use a little practice on the writing — still not consistently legible.  Lily loves books, but she has never been one of those kids who likes to read the same thing over and over.  So we make routine trips to the library and always have 20 or so books on a rotating basis.
• She loves, loves, loves to play with her friends.  We have three little neighbor girls across the street (from two families), and pretty much everyday she asks if she can play with them.  Unfortunately, they are either in school or being cared for by relatives elsewhere while parents work, so playing through the week is usually limited to late afternoons.  They are each one to three years older than Lily, but this seems to be a good match for her.  She sort of acquiesces to their lead more often than with children closer to her own age.  Now that the weather is nicer, the girls most often play outside — riding bikes, driving Barbie Jeeps, drawing with sidewalk chalk, and playing endless role-playing games, sometimes accompanied by dressing up.
• Lily’s memory is often jaw-dropping.  She can recall details from trips taken and people met half her lifetime ago.  She is much more aware of her surroundings than I recall being as a young child — particularly when we are driving in the car.  She can identify streets and landmarks that we haven’t driven past in months.  For example, we were recently in the area of our old bank, which we haven’t visited since we moved last November, but before the building was in sight, she said “this is by where we used to go to the bank!”  And, although we listen to a huge variety of music at home and in the car, she can often identify a song within a few introductory notes.  This skill is undeniably inherited from her father.
• Lily is highly sensitive to tactile input, and I have to remind myself of this when she flips out seemingly without precursor.  One of her surefire triggers is having her jacket hood get bunched up behind her in the carseat.  Tags bother her — not usually the sewn-in tags in clothing, but the store tags, and so we have to negotiate every time she tries on clothes at the store or clothes I’ve brought home that require a try-on to ensure they won’t have to be returned.  She is getting really good at verbalizing what the problem is, but often needs to be talked down from her anxiety — taking deep breaths — before she can speak coherently.  Recently she had a melt-down because the seam at the toe of her sock was partially wrapped around the side of her foot.  Socks, in general, can be a challenge, as even anklets are described as “too tight” and the fold-over type of socks are rejected completely.  She would usually choose to forgo socks entirely, so I am thankful that warmer weather is upon us.
• Speaking of warm, Lily is a living furnace.  That child’s core temp must run a degree or two higher than average, because she is constantly complaining that she is too hot — shedding sweaters and jackets, stripping off the layers i have so thoughtfully dressed her in during the cold winter months.  She wears her summer pj’s year-round, and even with her ceiling fan on will often wake sweaty and hair-plastered.  This is all very paradoxical, given that her body fat is nearly non-existent.
• Lily is loving, affectionate, and adores her family — grandparents, cousins, aunt.  She often tells Bill or me out of the blue that she loves us, sometimes several times a day.  When she has been in trouble, she will often come to us unprompted and apologize so sincerely that it is impossible not to take her in our arms and forgive even the worst offense.  I think, given time and maturity, this will translate to better, more thoughtful, choices on her part.
• Lily is as girly as they come.  She loves purple and pink, pretty and froofy, and all things princess.  She would choose to wear a dress every day of the week, and this winter we had lots of battles over what was seasonally appropriate.  Now that summer approaches, I have filled her wardrobe with a variety of dresses and skirts for everything from outdoor play to church on Sundays, and I am happy to relinquish control over that one small aspect of her life for the next several months.

We had a wonderful (very girly) birthday party on Sunday, and we celebrated the actual day today with a few presents and dinner out as a family of four (a rare experience).  More on all that later, I hope, but on this day, I really wanted to get down some (okay, many) of my thoughts and feelings about my special little sprite of a daughter.  Happy birthday, Lily!

Obviously I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus.  Sometimes I’m just not feelin’ it, blog-wise.  Life is busy, and when my day finally winds down around 9, I sometimes just don’t feel like spending that precious hour or so before bedtime updating the blog.

And then something AMAZING happened.  My dear, dear husband decided to take the kids to South Carolina to visit his parents.  Sans mama.  I was a little hesitant at first, imagining it would be hard to be away from the kids for five whole days.  And feeling guilty about Bill embarking on what would probably be at times a tough journey as a single parent with two little kids.  But, as Bill pointed out, I really needed a break.  Yes, he’s fabulous.  So, last Tuesday, I put my darling husband and two darling babies on a plane, cried a little, and headed home, solo.

What followed were five glorious days of no whining, no meal planning, no sippy cups, no arguing over outfits, no crumbs on the floor, no diapers, no Nick Jr, no demands, no responsibilities.  Just me and Angus, and a whole lot of quiet.  Of course I missed their sweet little faces and warm little bodies.  But someday, a long time from now, one of my kids is going to be reading this, so I’m going to be honest.  I loved every. single. minute. of my time alone.  And I could have gone a couple more days.  Sometimes I feel like I have been running a marathon for the last four years, and really this was my first pit stop.  Even though Bill and I did take one trip together by ourselves when Lily was a toddler (before Liam), it was not the same as this break.  Bill gave me the ultimate gift in leaving me to be alone in my own home, knowing that my kids were in the care of the only other person in this world who I know will take care of them the same way I would.  I had no worries, and I was completely relaxed at home.  The weather sucked most of the time.  I battled a sore throat for the first few days.  None of this mattered.

What did I do with my time?  I went to the library and leisurely browsed books.  I shopped for summer clothes for the kids (impossible to do with them in tow).  I even tried on a few things and bought myself a dress — probably my first clothing purchase for myself in nearly a year.  I had lunch with my mom–twice.  I did a little planning for Lily’s upcoming birthday party.  I worked a little and got caught up on some paperwork for work.  I read a little of some books on disciplining children that I have been meaning to get to for a long time (have been NEEDING to get to for a long time).  I walked the dog.  I rented several movies that Bill probably wouldn’t want to see.  I tidied up the house (but chose not to spend much time on deep cleaning — time was just way too precious).  I ran a bunch of silly errands that took me a fraction of the time that they would have with the kids.  I watched a little junk tv.  That’s pretty much it.

I did not Facebook much.  I did not blog (though I actually meant to).  I did not make the new valance for Liam’s bedroom window.  I did not work on the kids’ baby books (was also in my plan).  I did not do any laundry.  I did not run the dishwasher ONE TIME.  (Weird, huh?  As it turns out, I use very few dishes on my own.)

It was all very lovely, and in the coming days, weeks, months, I will have to close my eyes from time to time and draw from those memories of quiet solitude.  I picked my family up from the airport this afternoon, and already I was off and running again.  Bill, understandably, was ready for a break, so he took off for a bit and I took over.  Liam kept the whining to minimum, and Lily only had one total meltdown between arriving home and bedtime, so I think they sensed that I needed to ease back into things.

Bedtime for me.  The marathon resumes at 6:45 a.m.  I hope this break will help me power through the next few (or 17) years!

Once, when Lily was still an infant, I made up my own chore chart — determined to get a handle on all my new domestic duties as a stay-at-home mom.  I divided out my tasks so that I had a manageable list of chores each day, thoughtfully designed so that we would enter each weekend with a clean house, clean, folded laundry, and a stocked refrigerator.  I never ONCE implemented my chore chart.  Lily was such a demanding baby — I felt like I literally held her the majority of her first year — and I am a terrible multitasker.  So I began what has become my “system” ever since — doing what absolutely needs to be done at that moment.

The house gets cleaned hours (or minutes) before guests come for a visit.  The laundry gets washed when we no longer have any suitable clothes to wear. (And typically Bill gets frustrated and ends up doing the laundry before I do — I can get by for a long time on an extensive collection of t-shirts and “not too dirty” jeans.  Underwear is the only thing that forces me to action.) Bathrooms get cleaned when they look like they need it.  Floors get swept/vacuumed when someone has tracked something in.

The only thing I had been pretty routine about was grocery shopping, because I did that on the only day that my store doubles coupons.  But when we moved, I found the stores near me don’t double. And I started working a half-day on my grocery day, so everything is off.  I’m still working out my meal planning/grocery shopping schedule.

Even though we have managed for nearly four years like this, I still long for a bit of a chore schedule, to ensure that everything is getting done routinely, and to elevate my skills as a homemaker.  Over the years, I feel like I have improved in a lot of ways, but I am still far from June Cleaver.  Before quitting work to be at home to raise our children, I never thought much about the role of housewife as being a skilled job, but I quickly realized how much the job entails, and that with each passing year I am getting better at it, with still much room for improvement.  I figure I’ll have this job down right about the time the kids are both headed off to school and I’m headed back to work.