Two conversations

I don't often play the "I'm going to tell Daddy" card with my kids. Mainly because he doesn't do much disciplining. Dan telling the girls that he's going to tell Mommy brings a much more repentant reaction.

The girls do not like it when Daddy is upset though, and if they actually think he will get mad they usually snap back to their senses pretty quickly. One night last week while giving Anna a bath I had to use the threat: "I'm going to tell Daddy and he is not going to be happy."

Anna's head bobbed up over the side of the tub with a total Anna response: "Then why are you telling him?"

*******

Dan was cuddling with Rachel on the couch when she suddenly asked him: "Daddy, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Stifling surprised laughter, he answered: "I don't know, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about... Hannah Montana."

"Then, no."

A Jewish daughter at Christmastime

"Mommy, I can't WAIT til Christmas."
"Ok, well you know we don't celebrate that, right?"
"Well it's still going to happen."

Sunday night we had a family Hanukkah party at Dan's cousin's house. His cousin's husband isn't Jewish and their gorgeous home is covered with a really nice mix of both Hanukkah and Christmas decorations. Anna came upon the stockings hanging above the fireplace and asked Dan, "why are those socks so BIG?!"

The girls represented nicely, chatting about Santa - they really like him, even though they don't believe he's real and they know he doesn't come to our house - and saying the prayers over the Hanukkah candles along with everyone else.

It's been really nice holiday season so far. Of course we haven't been to my side of the family's celebration yet. I might have a totally different post after tomorrow night!

Moment of clarity

I'm in the car running errands with the girls in tow when up ahead I spot my old apartment building. I point it out to the girls and completely blow their minds by mentioning that I lived there before I even met Daddy. Anna can't believe that I lived alone and asks if I was lonely.

Immediately my mind flashes to the days when I had no one to take care of but myself. Beautiful quiet evenings spent eating what I wanted and choosing my own television programming. My bed all to myself and no one asking me for anything.

As I stop at the red light in front of the building I assure Anna that it wasn't so bad and that I even enjoyed living by myself. She ponders this for a moment before posing her next question.

"Are you happier now that you have a family?"

Still stopped at the light, I turn and look at the faces of my children. The answer is obvious but the strength with which I feel it hits me hard. "Absolutely," I say. "A million times happier. Nothing makes me happier than our family."

My daughters beam at me and Anna points out that the traffic light is green. The girls crane their necks to see the building as we pass and we continue on our way to the bank.

Looking at the stars

On December 1, 2004, Dan and I became a family.

Anna Frances was a good sleeper, a terrible eater and sounded like a baby pig when she cried. When she was awake, she was incredibly alert and took in everything she saw with clear eyes and a thoughtful face. Her daddy was the first person to ever hold her and without a doubt she always knew who he was.

As a new mother I reached new levels of sleep deprivation and learned all kinds of important lessons about nursing and pumping and crib safety and baby reflux. Also? Nothing ever felt more awesome than having my newborn baby sleep on my chest.

Anna's feeding and reflux issues made her a pretty high-maintenance child for those first few months. The one saving grace is that she slept amazingly well. Usually all we had to do was get her to lay her head down on us for more than ten seconds and she'd fall asleep for pretty much as long as we'd let her stay comfy.

Five years later one of my favorite things about Anna is that she is still that cuddly. All those hours snuggled up on the couch in her early days must have stuck with her because at least once a day I am ordered to the couch so that she can lay down on (yes, "on" and not "with") me. I know full well that one day she won't want me in the same room and so while my laundry piles up and that funny smell in my kitchen may not have been resolved yet, Anna can have me.

My labor with Anna was not easy and by the time I finally delivered her I was completely exhausted and barely conscious but I remember straining to hear some comment about her condition. One of my clearest memories of that moment is hearing one of the nurses comment that Anna was face up. "She was born looking at the stars, she'll spend her life looking at the stars."

Let's hope so.

Happy birthday Anna!

Forty-eight months later

Four years ago today my Rachel was born. I had a repeat c-section after a good 24-hour fight against preterm labor that just would not stop. Even though she was six weeks early she was a good size and appeared healthy.

Turns out Rachel's lungs weren't inflating and so she was whisked off to the special care nursery where she spent the first six days of her life. Not having her in my hospital room with me was awful. Postpartum hormones plus no baby to hold equals one especially emotional mommy.

Leaving the hospital without my baby was heart-wrenching. But after a frantic week, finally taking her home and introducing her to her big sister was glorious. This is the first picture ever taken of our family of four (disclaimer: that's breastmilk in that bottle!):

Anna loved Rachel the minute she laid eyes on her. All she wanted to do was touch her and stare at her. It was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen. She took her role as big sister pretty seriously from the start.

I am sometimes asked if Dan and I will ever "try for a boy" or if I am ever going to have another one of these babies I adore so much. But we are done and while I might love on my friends babies and wonder out loud what life might be like with more children, I really am ok with that. Because my family? It's complete. And kind of awesome.

Forty-eight months after her early arrival Rachel continues to surprise me every single day. She is dramatic and hilarious and affectionate and the most snuggly girl ever. And today she is four.

Happy birthday Rachel!

The one about my dog

What's that? You didn't know I had a dog? Well that is because I actually do not.

What I do have is a medium-sized creature who runs around on all fours and pants and barks and yips with excitement and howls when upset and eats food out of a bowl on the floor.

Unfortunately that creature is my four-year-old daughter. Several long months ago she decided that she wanted to be a dog. At first I went along with it because why not? Pretend play, the imagination at work, what a creative child!

As she does with everything, Anna took this business very seriously and her commitment to her new game was complete. She carefully studied how dogs position their legs when they lay down and the way their ears move. She didn't want to act like a dog, she wanted to BE a dog and she repeated this distinction to anyone who would listen.

See?

Behold my pride and joy BEING a dog at... wait, where was this photo taken again? Oh, heh heh, right, ummm, at SCHOOL. Yeah, I waited for weeks for the lynch mob of parents to show up at my door after she had like a whole pack of them going.

So this commitment I mention, this focus, this clear intention to BE a dog includes my child actually barking. BARKING. Loud, sudden, eardrum-rupturing barks. The canine version of the atmosphere-disrupting shrieks that used to cause strangers to crane their necks to see what I must be doing to the poor child to make her sound like that.

The barks were startling my 90-year-old grandmother so severely that we had to put a doggie ban in place when Grandma Edie is around. I'm seriously considering moving that woman in with us.

Because it's not only the elderly that can't handle Anna the dog. I can't handle Anna the dog. And let me be clear, Anna's love of and connection to animals is one of the many things I adore about my oldest child. It warms my heart to see it in action.

But I can't get through an hour of any day without encountering the dog behavior. Meal time, bath time, grocery store, swim class - it is nonstop. She was a Border Collie for Halloween and she obsessed over the details of the costume with such intensity that I had to wonder if it was completely healthy.

The truth is that I don't believe the dog behavior is unhealthy, at least not yet. And I feel guilty saying it - though I've long ago accepted that guilt just comes with the territory of having children - but more than anything the behavior is annoying. I'm just tired of her putting her hands down on dirty public floors and getting food in her hair because she's eating with her face in her bowl. And I'm completely over the noise.

I feel bad when I have to tell her to stop playing because it's making me insane. But I have done it. It is hard to balance fostering my child's creativity with maintaining my own mental health. I suppose that is one of the most basic struggles of motherhood.

It could be worse. She could have a drum set.

One more reason

Rachel just came to me with a folded up tissue pressed to her chin and told me, "This is my beard. My man name is... Mr. Pete!"

Oh this child. Four is going to be fun.