A Mother's Plight

I think it is every mother’s plight to bear the pain of her child. I remember the honest physical pain I felt when D broke his leg. Also how I ached inside as I bandaged M from many a wound. But by far the deepest pains I have borne with my children are pains of the heart.

On D's last day of preschool on the prairie I deeply felt his ache over leaving his beloved teacher behind as we moved on to new pastures. When M cried and cried over missing her pink bear one night when we realized she had left it at D's preschool earlier that day, I cried with her. When one is struggling with developmental milestones, with missing Daddy, or from pure childhood overload, a mother feels it so strongly with the child cuddled in her arms.

Most of the time there is nothing I can do but hold them and empathize. Occasionally, I can distract and a time or two I have been able to lighten the burden.

On a recent cold and crummy afternoon, D, M & I were all cuddled under a blanket reminiscing about our house on the prairie and all the people, places and things we missed about it. On the list were things I expected: the cat, the big sandbox, the farmer and his hay baler, the friends; and things I didn't expect: the wildflower patch, the gravel road, the clothesline. The clothesline? I didn’t even know they realized or remembered it. But yes, I miss the clothesline too, so we decided to do something about it, and so it became our afternoon activity. Amid laughter and pride and sheer delight, we strung up our wash and basked in our accomplishment.

Milestones

Well, I'm in trouble. H is getting precariously close to crawling. I have done everything humanly possible to prevent/delay this milestone, but to no avail. She keeps getting up on her hands and knees and rocking back and forth and I know any day she is going to figure out that one last detail of propulsion. A day I dread, to be sure.

It's not that I hope to hold back my children indefinitely. In fact, I wasn't always this way. When D was an infant, I religiously read every baby and childrearing book or magazine I ran across. I memorized the details of each expected milestone and panicked if D hadn't reached them by the earliest end of the age range. I did everything I could to encourage milestones like rolling, crawling, walking, talking...

By the time M came along I didn't have the time or necessity to read and memorize all those details, but certainly when I realized other 8 month olds were crawling, I worked with her to accomplish the task....putting toys just out of her reach, helping her get into the right position, getting on the floor and encouraging her in her efforts.

The third time around I have no need, nor desire, to hurry these developments. A crawling baby means baby gates. A crawling baby means tiny legos left on the floor will be found and ingested. A crawling baby means a lot of extra work for a mommy. And for that, I am in no hurry!

This is what Zero Looks Like

If you know much about babies, you'll know doctors like to keep close tabs on their growth. Each doctor visit (5 in the first year) they measure height, weight and head circumference and chart them against the average baby in the country (a percentile ranking). When you have a porker like D you call the grandmas after each visit and brag that his is a strong and healthy BIG boy. When you have a mini like H, after each appointment you call and say "She's still tiny!"

Currently she is a ZERO.... I like to say that according to the charts there are no baby girls her age in the US smaller than she is.

Take a look...this is what ZERO looks like!



She doesn't look like she's missed too many meals to me...

Book Worm

Sometimes I think D was born holding a book. His reading ability continues to amaze me. From the first time that I realized he could pick up a new book and read it without help (about a year ago--at 4 yrs 4 months), I knew God had given him a very special gift. Language in general is his forte...and early talker, a big vocabulary, and now reading.

I like to challenge him, see what he can read and actually comprehend. I love picking out new books at the library and having him read them to me. Then I quiz his comprehension. My favorite part, though, is how he reads with such animation. If you have listened to many young kids read, you know it's rather monotonous. Not so with D. All of his characters have unique voices and amazing facts are read with great emphasis. That is the benefit of having two highly animated parents, I guess!

On days he doesn’t go to preschool he takes a "quite time" in his room while the girls nap. Often during that time he builds legos or reads. Last week I happened upon him sprawled on his bed reading a chapter out of "Little House in the Bog Woods" by Laura Ingalls Wilder. (one of my personal favorites, by the way!) He was honestly reading it. Flabbergasted once again, I listened to him read with full understanding, sounding out the few words he didn't know. The best part, though, was that I couldn't drag him away from it. Nap time was over, he walked down the stairs still reading, snack time began and he brought the book to the table...

More than his ability, though, I am delighted for his love of reading. Long may it continue!

Felicitations

It's nice to have friends with a sense of humor....

Pink Bear (and M), received the following greeting in the mail this week.

Called...

Well, for those of you who follow the life of our beloved Pink Bear, you may find it interesting that today DaddyHealy was invited to the Baptism of Pink Bear. (Out of curiosity I asked, and it was indeed a Catholic church.)

M lead the congregation of one in a special song:
"And the Glory for God,
and the Baptism,
Glory for God and Mary and Jophes, and baby Jesus..."

Then they took a nap at their "church."

Pink Bear

Everyone has a favorite. For M it is "Pink Bear." That is her (or his, depending on the day) official name. It's been the friend she has carried everywhere since she was old enough to have a good grip. I'm grateful pink bear is tiny, as she has definitely been around the block a few times. She is also, of course, M's best bedtime friend. In fact, many a trip to M's room in the middle of the night are to answer frightened desperate cries that turn out to be "I can't find Pink Bear."

I have overheard, at times, Pink Bear misbehave and get scolded and punished in a strikingly similar way to my discipline measures for M. When it's thunder storming, Pink Bear is scared (even though M is not). Pink Bear doesn't like no dessert in Lent. After she got her flu shot, M told Daddy that Pink Bear cried even though I seem to remember tears falling from my little girl's face. M puts Pink Bear to bed with the same stories that I read her, and not surprisingly Pink Bear always asks for one more story, and M always tells him that it's already past his bedtime, and maybe tomorrow. (sounds rather familiar).

Pink Bear is also vividly alive in M's imagination. I have been told:
When Pink Bear was a baby, he didn't like squash.
One time, pink bear flew in a hot air balloon.
When Pink Bear was little, one time he went to heaven, he had angel wings.
...among others.

M cracked me up today before her nap when she decided to read her bedtime stories herself. Following our example she read me the title and author:
"Sweet Dreams" by PinkBear.com

I couldn't resist having a few of her 3-year pictures with Pink Bear.