Some of you may have figured out by now, that I’m not exactly a fan of the Arizona weather. I miss my seasons and I actually found myself longing for the 27 degree high and chance of snow forecasted for Columbus when my weather.com browser opened up. Somehow, 72 and sunny just doesn’t seem right at the end of January; particularly when you know what July will bring.

I must be in the minority with this way of thinking—particularly amongst the over 65 crowd, as evidenced by the variety of locations depicted on the license plates in my local parking lot.

Every trip to the nearby Fry’s grocery store requires me to summon all my patience. Not only do I have a rather unwilling two-year-old in tow, but I know what I’m going to face: visitors from Minnesota, Iowa, Nebraska, North Dakota, Michigan (twice over), New York, Ontario, British Columbia, and a record breaking, thrice spotted, Saskatchewan. Honestly, the license plates span the reaches of North America. I find more out-of-state plates than I do local ones. Everyone is here to stay for the season. While the snow covers their own territory, they come to bask in the summer-like weather that pervades our city.

And, I must say, they really aren’t the best drivers. Thirty in a forty-five zone is so common it barely registers a passing remark. Just yesterday, I watched an older gentleman reverse his car from the very middle of the intersection all the way back to behind the crosswalk, holding up all opposing traffic, because he failed to actually turn left before the light changed to red. Such blunders are common place.

And, let’s be honest, they aren’t much better at driving their shopping carts than they are their cars. There was a traffic jam in the meat department as two women chatted over the great price of roasts and how they could feed their visiting family for so cheaply on such meat. Two men nearly collided in the chip aisle. Another two compared notes on their trailer park facilities. And elderly couple bickered over which spaghetti sauce to purchase. All were completely oblivious to the fact that their presence and cart thoroughly block any thru traffic.

I can understand this happening once, twice, maybe a third time during a single shopping trip, but encountering it at every corner? It’s enough to wear one out—especially when your toddler is trying to grab everything in sight and convince you to let her walk, not ride.

Understandably, I was not in the best mood upon exiting the store to be accosted by a local LA Fitness representitive in the world-traveled parking lot. He wanted to sell me—nine months pregnant and obviously not in the best work out condition—a gym membership. I couldn’t decide whether to be flattered (he must think I’m capable of completing thirty minutes on the elliptical in my current state) or offended (I must really be big if I need that membership so badly). As it was, I gave my belly a significant look and mentioned that I’m not really in the market at the current time.

And then I looked around. Everyone else in the parking lot was probably in worse condition than myself—riding on wheel chairs, leaning heavily on canes, struggling to lift groceries into trunks. Perhaps I, nine months pregnant and at the local Fry’s grocery store, really am the best market LA Fitness has going at the current time. How sad.

Living in the Valley of the Sun, Lonica Stuff | 1 Comment »

I don’t think the toddler crowd realizes how good they actually have it—you certainly wouldn’t know from the number of tantrums that manage to pop up.

We met up with Aunt Raquel and cousin Millie for a morning spent in the heated pool, a picnic on green grass, and some play at the nearby slide (in January, I know!, welcome to Mesa…). We made it home just in time for a quick bath before naptime.

I ran Amelia a hot bath. Soaped her body and hair. Gave her a bit of a massage to get rid of the bubbles. Bundled her in a towel. Brushed her hair, adding some leave-in conditioner. Rubbed her down with lotion. Dressed her in ultra comfy clothes. Tucked her into bed. Ran to retrieve Arnold, without whom no naptime is complete. Ran my fingers through her hair as I sang her a song. Gave her a kiss and exited. Ten minutes later she was out.

She woke, two hours later, to read books on her bed. Read more books with Mom. Watch her favorite show—Super Why—and play with toys to her heart’s content. Meanwhile, Mom makes her dinner.

I can’t help but think, is it possible, as an almost 28-and-a-half-year-old, to reverse time and return to life as a two-year-old? I think I’d take it.

Amelia Marie, Lonica Stuff | No Comments »

“Mom! I climb ‘ight by myself?” In her eyes, she’s entirely capable.

After our rather eventful Monday, I really started thinking. It seems that each stage of motherhood requires an extra measure of self-sacrifice. A measure, in all honestly, I haven’t been willing to give lately. Surviving the day with a toddler isn’t enough. Carrying a growing fetus isn’t enough either. I have to dig deeper and find more.

In an attempt to get ready for Baby Sister’s arrival, I’ve been hauling Amelia all over town, running errands, completing tasks, and pushing her beyond her two-year-old limits. I see a deadline of weeks and keep charging ahead, ignoring Amelia’s pleas for “no store! play toys at new house!” With the impending arrival of round-the-clock nursing and the soon-to-be limiting need for naptimes, I want to get it all done now. My list is long and my goals are, perhaps, a bit too lofty. I’ve been hoping to get it done now, so I can relax once the baby comes.

While these thoughts have been niggling in the back of my mind, waiting for my notice, it was the events of Monday that really opened my eyes and realize that something needs to be done. Despite my reservations, I have to set aside my own needs, desires, and agendas more than I have been doing. I have to come to terms with the fact that I now have a toddler who sleeps fewer hours, who can escape her bed and threaten to end naptime early, who often demands we play a game at what I view to be an inopportune time, and who needs more attention and love.

Don’t get me wrong, though. Toddlers cannot run the show. Things still need to be done. I have a room full of pictures that need to be hung. Groceries must be bought and dinner must be made. I have hopes to finish a quilt and plans to do more nesting before this baby arrives. Those things are important. I firmly believe that I cannot be a thoroughly happy mother when I don’t take time out for myself. I need a break. My body demands a nap. Books eagerly await me. I relax best in a clean and presentable house. I can only push back so many creative ideas before they must be produced.

Yet, at the same time, Amelia’s needs have changed. She no longer needs me to be her sole source of nourishment. She doesn’t need me to teach her how to fall asleep on her own. She doesn’t need me to change her diapers. She needs a playmate; someone to teach her new skills—letters, numbers, and sorting, to name a few. She needs to start completing simple chores. She needs to learn to manage her temper a bit better. She needs to grow and develop in new ways; she’s no longer the baby she once was, but a budding preschooler. If you ask her, everything is “Minah do it!” right down to tying her own shoes and buckling herself into her own carseat. I have to find new ways to meet her growing needs.

I need to find a new balance to life. Make sure that the things I’m focusing on are the most important. Sometimes Amelia must come first. Sometimes baby must come first. Sometimes Dad wins out. Other times Mom must triumph. Anyone out there ever achieved the proper balance?

Last week we ran a few quick errands (a purchase at Lowe’s and then a doctor’s appointment for Baby Sister), before spending a full hour and a half feeding bits of bread to hungry ducks and collecting “sticks” to throw in the little stream. If I’m being entirely honest, I must admit to finding finding myself bored after the first thirty minutes; on the other hand from the looks of it, this very well might have been the best hour and a half of Amelia’s entire week. I’m making strides at improvement.

This is my New Year’s Resolution—a bit late I know, but one that’s taken awhile to fully formulate—to keep things simple, focus on the important, and enjoy a slower life. If only I can take this lofty goal and actually put it into practice…

Amelia Marie, Lonica Stuff | 4 Comments »

Today didn’t turn out quite the way I anticipated. It all began as normal—breakfast, dressing, and a show, followed with our morning errand running. Our fridge was out of milk and a trip to the grocery store was mandatory. Amelia didn’t want anything to do with running errands, but poor girl, sometimes she doesn’t get a choice.

She managed to play her hand right, though, and brought our errand running to a screaming halt–literally. I turned away for a minute and, in a terrible Mom Moment, looked back just in time to see her fall out of the shopping cart, face down, splat onto the cement of Home Depot. After a quick gasp, I picked her up and cuddled her, attempting, in vain, to stop her flow of tears, as a ginormous goose egg developed on her upper left forehead.

Setting aside all thoughts of accomplishing any to-do’s (of which I had many and accomplished none), we left the store and headed for Grandma Honey’s (the only carrot to which Amelia seemed inclined to nibble). Hiccupping between sobs she fell asleep in her grandma’s arms—something she hasn’t done in years and certainly not hours before her nap time. She proceeded to take a rather disjointed nap on the couch only to awaken and promptly throw-up all of her remaining breakfast. A phone call to the pediatrician warned me that should she throw-up again a trip to ugent care was in order. Not fifteen minutes later, Amelia found it necessary to empty her tummy once more.

I packed her up and headed out the door for the urgent care. Dad, who had a super busy day and was planning to work late for a next-day trial, came to meet us at the clinic. We arrived, only to find out that she needed a CT scan of her brain, which was only available at the local children’s hospital. We headed to the ER next and, thankfully, two hours later, were told that she was just fine, without any complications.

We were worried about our little girl, she was acting out of sorts for the majority of the day (super lethargic and whining), but a nine o’clock dinner (they wouldn’t let us give her anything to eat before the scan and results) seemed to bring her back to life. She was good and brave and an accommodating patient. We’re just glad she only had to be a patient for one evening.

To Amelia’s way of thinking multiple stickers and a ‘licious (everything these days is ‘licious) popsicle made everything all better.

Amelia Marie | 4 Comments »

Last Tuesday was a big day in the life of our Miss Amelia. She didn’t realize it at the time, but it was the last day she was allowed to wear diapers. She woke Wednesday morning to Big Girl Panties and the demise of all diapering in our household—naps and bedtimes included. After hearing from a few respected sources about this 3-Day potty training method, I read the book and decided it was for us. No “letting her lead the way” over the course of long drown out months. We set aside our diapers and did nothing for three days but tackle potty training. Baby sister’s birth was a looming deadline and I wanted to tackle this before, as I’m not too keen on the idea of diaper two sets of bums.

I’ll admit, the beginning of training required a lot of mental energy on my part. Everything about Amelia and I’s daily routine is pretty easy. We had a good system going. Why mess it up? It took a lot of will power and stock piling of patience to contemplate tackling this project. Luckily, a week later, things seem to have quickly (much more quickly that I expected) returned to normal.

Here’s how it went down:

Day 1: We introduce panties, throw away the old diapers and commit to our new course of action. I keep a mop, bucket, Clorox wipes and an every-ready stash of new panties handy. By the end of the day, I’m exhausted (lifting Amelia on and off the potty was enough for my strained back), frustrated with cleaning up somewhere along the lines of eleven messes, and thoroughly worn out, wishing Scott could make it home from work earlier than eight o’clock that evening. Watching her cute, little bum wander around the house in panties all day kept me going. Amelia, on the other hand, has established that this potty business is awesome: she gets special treats for “making noises in the potty” and choosing which Disney Princess underwear to wear for the next hour or so is great fun.

Day 2: The appeal of yogurt covered raisins is still going strong. Amelia learns that going potty yields special treats and she’s willing to accommodate; I can always count on my good eater. For whatever reason only a two-year-old fully understands, peeing while her friendly Elf looks on seemed to be a good motivation as well. A few messes, but I manage to get away without needing the mop. Things are going well. I believe her bed needed a fresh set of sheets sometime during the night, but otherwise, nothing major.

Day 3: Similar to Day 2. Amelia seems to have mastered the concept of using the toilet, our issues arise with letting me know prior to the accident that she actually needs to go. She wakes from naptime and bedtime with clean panties and dry sheets. I’m impressed.

Day 4: Not much different from the two previous days. I was still hesitant to give Amelia much trust, but things seemed to be progressing. We kept at it.

Day 5: She woke with a major accident. Thirty minutes of cleaning later, we headed off late for church. With some trepidation, I dressed Amelia completely for the first time in four days. We made a trip to the toilet during Sacrament Meeting, only to return and be told nearly immediately that she had to use the bathroom once more. We headed out the isle, down the hall, and back to the bathroom. I suspect she only wanted her special treat, not the toilet. We introduced Amelia to her new nursery leaders and left them with the warning, “She’s in the early stages of potty training; not sure what to expect; good luck!” and made a quick, sheepish exit. I sat on the edge of my seat for the next hour, fearful of what might come. Amazingly, she told her leaders twice that she had to potty and actually followed through. We made it home clean and dry; I breathed a sigh of relief.

Day 6: We re-entered our real life. Full sets of clothing, grocery shopping and errands put her newly acquired skills to the test. Amelia passed with flying colors. Not a single accident—daytime or nighttime.

Day 7-9: This trend of events continued until two mornings ago when I failed to assist Amelia to the bathroom in time early in the morning. We had a yucky mess to clean up, but that’s been our only accident all week. Scott and I continue to argue over who gets to carry the super cuddly and oh! so cute! Amelia into the restroom for her late night “dream pee,” as we’ve dubbed it. I’m not naïve enough to think she will never have another accident (I’ve heard of children regressing after a recent sibling addition), but I would hesitantly say that we have overcome a huge hurdle in the life of every toddler. I still don’t trust her entirely—she’s not super dependable at letting me know when she needs to go—but if I remind her periodically (every couple of hours or so) she does great at peeing on command.

Congrats to Amelia! We sure are proud of our little girl who is growing big too fast, too soon!

Amelia Marie | 4 Comments »