So this past month was wonderful, which I’m sure has a lot to do with me entering my third trimester with the bean, and having the epiphany that I need to savor every second of just looking after one child and focusing all of my attention on Princess Taylor. We’ve been having mother-daughter adventures daily, and I’ve recklessly abandoned certain routine household chores to sit and color with her for hours and smooch her face.
I’ve also finally started to work on some projects that I vowed to do years ago, and with the help of my fancy-shmancy new computer, I’ve been compiling DVD-projects of our first years as parents. And looking back on the thousands of images – Yes, THOUSANDS. Taylor pretty much had a camera in her face for the first years of her life. And we wonder why she’s such a diva, – Chris and I just shake our heads in disbelief that the squishy little peanut we brought home from the hospital three years ago is now the sassy, independent toddler Princess that she is. And we are also blown away by how FAST it went. Looking back at her first babbling, to her first crawling, to her first steps... It made us lament the fact that our precious girl is growing up so quickly, but it also made us super excited to soon have another newborn join our family.
Taylor is growing up at lightening speed, both in personality and body. Gone is the chunky little monkey, whose thunder thighs and round tummy I would squeeze on an hourly basis. She is leaning out and losing some of that sweet pudginess, and I can only hope that Baby Amys will have the same plump, Popeye-like arms that look like they have rubber-bands lining the midsections and joints. And while her limbs are sprouting, so has her hair. Which is especially noticeable because the only way to manage her wild mane is with headbands – No ponytails or clips for this Princess, ONLY headbands. So in an attempt to clean up the toddler-mullet, we went in for her second-ever haircut this past month. And she loved the whole process, especially staring at herself in the mirror, and I am happy that she has a new do that doesn’t resemble a Nick Nolte mugshot.
We also got a new pet, our fish Nemo, this month. And I’m happy to say that after nearly five days living in our house he’s still alive. Barely. Funny story about that – So, on day three of having Nemo I noticed that his bowl was super cloudy and dirty, and when I asked Chris what the proper upkeep of a Betta fish bowl entailed, he shook his head and answered, Honestly, I didn’t think it would be alive this long. THIS long? It’d been 48-hours... And what’s the point of attaching ourselves to a creature that has a shelf-life of less then a week?
So that day I did a little research on bettafish.com and went to the pet store to buy some more betta water, a net for transferring Nemo, some sort of solution to balance the chemicals in his bowl, a teeny-tiny fake plant and a different type of food. And because Taylor is Chris’s offspring and the most inquisitive toddler on the planet, each item I placed into our cart was soundtracked by, What’s THAT Mom? Why you getting THAT? Why we need to get THAT? Why, Mom, WHY? And when I told her that we had to get Nemo new food, she looked at me and said, But I feed Nemo my milky Mom. And I was all, Um. Excuse me? And she chirped back, Yep. I feed Nemo milky.
And after explaining to Taylor that fish don’t have the lactose-tolerance we humans do, and then rescuing Nemo from his dairy bath, we cleaned up our new family member’s bowl and now he’s swimming a little faster and happier in a milk-free, plant-adorned living space. Which is now also out of reach of Taylor and her sippy cups.
Ah. It’s always entertaining. And, like last month, our lives are constantly peppered with Taylor-questions. Most of which I try to answer truthfully and to the best of my ability – Mom, why the car stopped? Well, because the traffic light told me to. And some questions I defer to Chris – Mom, why is water wet? Um, you’ll have to ask Daddy that one. And some questions I just answer by slamming my head against a wall in attempts to divert her attention and numb my own pain – Mom, why can’t I go inside the TV and be with Strawberry Shortcake?
We’re also on month two of her refusing to wear pants. And when I say she doesn’t want to put on pants, I mean she all out loses her mind when you even mention the word Pants. And if you hold them up and she can actually see them, the reaction is similar to Superman being confronted with kryptonite. Her body collapses to the ground and she starts sobbing, convulsing and screeching, But I no look like Princess in pants. And I’m sure that’s funny to you, because it’s not your kid. But not only is it frustrating for us, but it’s really starting to interfere with our daily lives. Because it’s really hard to play at the park when you’re wearing ruby slippers and a formal dress.
And last weekend Chris wanted Princess Taylor to accompany him while he ran errands, including a trip to the hardware store. And when he announced that she had to put on running shoes and pants to go, she curled her lip in defiance and announced, Then I no go, Dad. And we were like, Really? You’d rather stay home then put on pants? And she snotted back, I stay home and wear my dress. And when Chris tried to pull the whole, You’re doing it because I said so, I shot him down with my hormonal-pregnant self and said, Good luck, Buddy, because there’s no way you’re gonna get her to do anything that way. To which the lone male in our house threw his hands up in the air in desperation, and then pointed at my stomach and said, If THAT’S a girl, then I’m building an apartment over the garage and living there.
You see, Chris doesn’t have a sister. It was just him, his brother and his parents, and his mother realized she was outnumbered early on. So he’s never been fully comfortable in an estrogen-heavy situation. And now that Taylor is showing all signs of becoming the Girliest-Girl in all Girlville, it’s starting to sink in that his future is going to hold more Rapunzel then Rambo. And let me just say, he’s doing an amazing job introducing himself to all the new girlness in his life. He knows all the Disney Princesses by name, and the other day my heart melted as I watching him sitting cross-legged on Taylor’s bedroom floor at her insistence, brushing his daughter’s hair and helping her pick out a matching headband to her fancy dress. He’s getting it. And if this baby is another girl, I’m pretty sure he’ll survive. Well, at least until they become teenagers. Then we’ll just move both of them to an apartment above the garage.
And while the center of that fight was that Taylor wouldn’t put on pants, the real heart of our frustration was that she wasn’t letting us tell her what to do anymore. That she’s her own little person, and that she’s forming all of these opinions about things and won’t be persuaded away from what she wants. Gone are the days of us as parents being able to tell her exactly what we want her to eat, think and wear. And I’m fully aware that this whole no-pants-debacle is most likely a phase – PLEASE, Universe! – and that hopefully by the time Spring is in full swing we’ll be able to wear park-attire again, it’s not going to make anyone’s life easier by fighting her about it every single day. If in her own toddler-mind she has to wear a dress and tights every second of the day, then we’re just gonna have to wear dresses and tights. After nearly three years of motherhood, I’m getting better about being able to let go of some of the control. Taylor is Taylor. She’s not me and she’s not Chris. We love her for her wonderful, sweet, inquisitive, stubborn personality, and feel like the luckiest parents alive to be blessed with such an amazing daughter.
1 comment:
I miss you guys. Let's set up a playdate.
:)
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