Open for Business

A new cafe has opened in the basement. Excellent and good looking waitstaff dressed in tutus usually. Nice ambiance. Pleasurable patrons. No cash, checks, or credit cards accepted. Just your word that you will provide voices for the customers who are mute and a good attitude about stomaching weird plastic play food items floating in your tea cup. Like strawberries.

Snowed In

I have just had not one, but two, snow days. Home from work. Stranded in the safe confines of my house with lots to eat and do. Snow days are brilliant. EVERYONE loves an unexpected day off from their usual routine. What makes these two snow days even more brilliant than a normal snow day is the fact that they bumped right up to my spring break, which is next week. I obnoxiously reminded every caller of this little fact.

There were times throughout the past two days that I was just sure I was going to win Mom of the Year Award. When I made a caterpillar out of an egg carton for Mia. When we colored each and every "hump" and decorated it just so. When I created a house out of an old box for her stuffed animals - complete with a door that opened and closed and windows. When we cooked and she became "Chef Mia" - even cracking eggs and pouring very spillable ingredients. When I fashioned a letter puzzle out of colored index cards and a shape sort out of Popsicle sticks. Yes. Those were the moments that were sure to at least guarantee me a spot in the top 10 Moms.

I did have some moments that would have eliminated me immediately from the running too. Like when I talked for an hour on the phone while Mia stared at me silently and I kept mouthing, "in just a minute, I'll play." Or when I said, "Don't you want to watch Blue's Clues?" And she said, "I JUST watched Blues Clues." When I said, "Go play with Bijou again. Doesn't she want to color?" The answer was quite obviously no. Or when I talked about going to the library for 24 straight hours and when the snow finally melted, we drove there. Only to find our regular library and our back up library closed. Mia reminded me that I should have "checked the computer" as she stared unhappily at the empty parking lots. Opps.

All forgivable offenses in my book. So, I'm still hoping to get that call that I indeed did win the top prize. Which would include a vacation on a sunny island with no snow or cold weather. For adults only. Sorry Meeza.

My most recent favorite photo of Mia...

Taken in Sayulita Mexico - Feb. 2009

A day in the life....

A day in the life of Mia: trying on Mommy's shoes and being "fancy", riding the carousel at the mall, and a play date with her cousin Hadley - which included looking super fly in sunglasses.

St. Patrick's Day

To all the Irishmen out there...a special nod to you today. Especially my family and my dad, a man who embodied the spirit of Ireland. He had faith. He had humor. And he had loyalty. Three things that are a must if you are to consider yourself a true son of Ireland.

Side note totally unrelated to St. Patrick's Day....I'm attaching a few photos of the mobile that I made for Baby P. I painstakingly traced birds onto card stock and cool vintage paper and then cut each one. I then glued small button eyes onto them. It's got a homemade vibe but I can claim that's the look I was trying to achieve (not really). I'm sort of proud of my work. I like what birds symbolize - freedom, flight, and unending horizons.

Here's to being crafty AND Irish. I'll drink to that (if only I could).

Plenty

Baby Pellegrino's arrival date is fast approaching. We went this weekend to tour the hospital and get pre-admission paperwork filled out. We walked hand in hand down the long hallways, lagging behind the rest of the group on the tour, and watched as Mia traced her finger absent mindedly along the wall. She would periodically turn toward us and say, "The baby isn't coming out today, but soon!" as if to remind us not to suddenly drop to our knees and deliver right then and there. I just kept thinking, "We're three and soon we'll be four."

Some of the first time parents laughed awkwardly and nervously at the tour guide's jokes and paused when asked, "Are there any questions?" I could see them trying to wrestle with the burning unknown....'Yes. Quick question. How drastically will my life change?' I wanted someone to ask it so I could shoot my reply.....your life will change so profoundly, you won't really know what hit you. You'll be more sleep deprived. You'll wind up 'picking up' more than you thought even humanly possible. (Seriously folks.....this parenthood gig requires ridiculous amounts of clean up.) You'll laugh a lot more. And worry a lot more. And love a lot more. And wonder what your life meant to you before you ever embarked on this wild ride. Yet no one asked the question so I couldn't shoot my wise old response back to them. The only question V and I had by the way was how long we got to stay in the birthing room - with it's flat screen and sconced lighting. And if V's ipod was compatible with the stereo. I think the tour guide had intended more labor related questions but this isn't our first time to the rodeo. No need for guidance in that department.

I just kept looking at Mia while on that tour. I wanted to hold her up for all to see and to share that she was enough. She was always enough. I guess I want her to know that too. We aren't having another baby to feel more complete. We felt pretty complete before the decision to try again. Don't get me wrong, this second baby was very much tried for and very much intended, but not for the reason that we somehow felt lacking. I remember pushing Mia on the swings at the park one day, before I was pregnant, and another mom said, "She's your only one? Just her?" As another author so profoundly wrote when this happened to her as well, "The just of the comment stung." I wanted to say to the mother, "Seriously? Look at her! Just look. She's enough. More than enough." We always want the next step. I'll be happy when I lose 10 lbs. I'll be happy when I'm doing what I REALLY want to be doing, rather than doing what I'm currently doing. I'll be complete when all of these other things are in order and I won't have to think about them anymore. Mia has just taught me that life doesn't work that way. Happiness appears in strange places. It isn't always an even number. And it isn't always a first try that brings it to you. Sometimes it's the thousandth try that delivers it to you.

While we can't imagine our lives without Baby P now that he is almost here, we love him unconditionally already, I want Mia to know that she was always simply enough.

Mia has begun saying "There's plenty!" when I offer her something. Even if there is just one. Tonight, at dinner, I handed her the blueberry container and she picked out almost all of them, leaving only traces of blue around her lips as evidence that they even existed. I said, "Wow. They're gone pretty much!" She said, "Nope. There's plenty." I laughed as I watched the one blueberry roll happily in the container.

Mia is my plenty.

This or That

A study was once conducted about decisions various professionals make in a day. It was determined that air traffic controllers make the most decisions in a day. With teachers being a close second. I could have spared them the money used to conduct such a study because I already knew that my job requires CONSTANT decision making. I'm not trying to pretend that all of my decisions are weighty. In fact, many of them are far from it. Glue stick or liquid glue? Call parent now or wait until student misses yet another assignment? Finish read aloud now or allow 28 squirming primary students to interact with each other? Short vowels or long vowels? Digraphs or chunks? Some of my decisions are much more subtle instructional decisions that require more than just logic or street sense. (Although, I'm quick to argue that anyone with the savvy to know when to allow 28 squirmers the freedom to interact before wrangling them back to full attention is much more than just logical or street smart.) My day is just a series of 'this or that' - so much so that I must be programmed to exist in this way. I even bring this type of thinking home.

Which is why I need to contact that researchers who conducted that original survey to tell them that their data is incorrect. While being two is technically NOT a profession, it IS a characteristic of the people who actually make the most decisions in a day. Toddlers. Mia, Elmo diaper or Cookie Monster Diaper? Mia, undies with Elmo looking creepy with an apple or undies with Hello Kitty(we're into wearing undies OVER our diapers these days) ? Mia, tunnel slide or swings? Grapes or strawberries? Swiss cheese or fresh mozzarella? Blues Clues or The Wiggles? Light on or off? Bow or no bow? Up or down? In or out? Over or under? It's amazing really. All of these decisions. I actually think it's even more amazing that I can present them all and not lose my mind. So who is held in higher regard? The person making the decisions or the person coming up with the choice to offer in the first place. I'm arguing that it's mommy. I'm arguing that I deserve the award.

By the way, what decisions are air traffic controllers really making? Is it that many? In my own naivete, I would just guess it's "this run way or that run way" but apparently I'm missing something quite huge about that profession.

Once upon a time...

I have so many things to blog about and I just haven't had time. I take that back; time hasn't been the issue but priority has. (Hello? I had to watch the Bachelor because it's part of a verbal contract I have with some of my pop culture devotees. And who knew the Real Housewives of New York was so addictive? Not all of my personal pursuits during my free time are so mindless. I've also been reading (loved the Elegance of the Hedgehog and the Wordy Shipmates is brilliant...truly.) I've been organizing. And I've been doing a whole lot of switching from side to side on the bed desperately trying to figure out a way to recline in some kind of comfort. So, you can see, I'm very very busy in my hours when Mia is blissfully sleeping at night. Blogging simply has taken a back seat.)

I did want to write something down so that in 50 years, I can recall it in detail. I started telling Mia stories at bedtime this week and it's proven to be sort of magical. I resorted to the tactic after we had read for 40 minutes before bed (reading has slowly crept from 5 books to MANY more every night...I'm a sucker. And a literacy teacher. How can I say no?) I couldn't keep my eyes open so I told her we'd turn off the lights and I'd tell her a story. I told her the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. I didn't spare any of the graphic details, even though a part of me worried that the scene with the wolf angrily chasing LRH around her grandmother's house, with teeth gnashing, would be too scary. I was too tired to really edit the version, making it extra G rated. I'm so glad I didn't. She ate up every word and even laughed at some of the parts (the part where the wolf climbs into bed in the "Nana's" clothing to fool LRH). The next night, we shut off the lights and she said, "Now tell me a story." I began to tell a story about a beautiful little girl named Mia Frances with big blue eyes and lots of curls. She said, "That's me!" She cut me off and demanded the tale of the "Nana in the closet and the wolf in the bed." I was reluctant to give up the story that I was beginning to invent about my adorable protagonist but happily began to bring our beloved little Red Riding Hood back to life, knowing Mia had missed her and had already begun to memorize all the details of her journey to her grandmother's house - the little path, the basket of fresh fruit and cookies, the flowers she picked along the way, the big gray wolf sneaking along beside her. Maybe I had missed the story too.

Watching her watching me. Both of us wondering what I would say next. All of it was so exciting. And comfortable. And so organic. It made me want to master the art of story telling. It was an exercise in inhibition. I loved the darkness of her room. Her steady, yet expectant, breathing, the newness of listening to, and telling, a fiction story with no pictures and no distractions. It's a dying art. One that I plan to revive to all of it's shiny glory.

V is the ultimate master in creating stories and I have so many lessons to learn from him - the way he pauses, his gift of imitation, the voices he'll make up to match different personalities. The way he engages his listener. He is so physical with the way he communicates - wild gestures. A true Italian. While I can't compete with his genius, I can become a humbled apprentice. I think I'll tell him I'm enrolling in classes this week. Story telling 101.

I hope I get an A.