The best part of my day

Today I took Susie to my parents' house so my dad could take Susie to preschool while I went with my mom to a class.  Today I vowed to myself that no matter what, I was going to dedicate the afternoon to hanging out with Susie.  A lot of times I end up taking phone calls and answering emails for work, or I try to get all of my errands done, or I try to get work done around house.  But today . . . today was going to be about playing with Susie.

We ended up playing, running some errands and doing some cleaning.  She helped me cook dinner and we did a good bit of laughing.  Unfortunately, I also spent about an hour on the computer and phone doing some work.   I felt like I had failed.  She acted out while I was on the phone, so I had to send her to her room - ugh! We were supposed to have a GOOD day! 

I tried to make it up to her during dinner by bringing the focus back to her.  While we were eating dinner, I asked her, "So, what was your favorite part of your day?"  I thought that she might tell me it was the Mickey Mouse stickers, or the few M&Ms she had with her snack, or playing at the Chick-fil-a play ground.  Nope.

Susie said, "The best part of my day was Mommy."

I love my baby girl.

Dad ideas

Over the past two days Susie keeps telling me, "Mommy, I want a baby sister." I know this can't really be the case.  She gets all of the attention she could possibly want and a baby would only take away from that.  So, today, I asked her, "Where did you get that idea?"  She responded: "Daddy told me to tell you."


* Sigh *

Love

"Mommy, I love you.  I love you . . . and your bottom . . . and your hands.  I love you, Mommy. . . and your bottom and your tummy and your hands."  That's some good loving. 

What's that you said?

We were driving down the road the other day and I heard, "Shhhh - T.  Shhhhh - T.  Shhhhh - T" from the back seat.  I looked in the rear view mirror and asked my sweet little two year old what she was saying. 

Her response: "Mommy, I'm saying, 'Shhhhhh - T' just like Wrinkles when she gets mad." 

Me: "What?"
           
 . . . Because I'm confused.  Wrinkles is the family cat and I'm pretty sure I've heard everything she has to say and sh!t isn't in her vocabulary.   Certainly, I wouldn't blame her if she said it.  No, really.  We put plastic caps on her claws so she couldn't hurt Susie (see picture below).  So, on a fairly regular basis, the cat is subjected to a two year old, who alternately loves on her with such strength she is left gasping for air, or swats at her while declaring, "Susie smack Wrinkles.  Smack. Smack."  Trust me, I'd have a few choice words if I were the cat. 

Susie: "When Wrinkles gets mad, Mommy, she makes that noise."

Oh! Hissssss. Hissssss. 

***** The cable guy asked if she had been in a fire.  Nope.  She is a sphinx that grew fur in random places.*****

Warrior

Funny.  I always thought my little girl would be a princess.  After all, I taught my nephews (with varying degrees of success) to add Beautiful Princess to the beginning of my name; I used to have princess parties with my girl friends; when I was carrying her, I commonly referred to her as Princess Susie Louise; and I ADORE the color pink.  Instead, in an effort to make sure that she grows into a strong, self confident woman, I have kept her from all but the occasional princess talk.  It was my sister-in-law who bought Susie her first tiarra and princess outfit.  Even then, it was for a casual princess.

In my efforts, this is what I have created:

Me: "Are you my little Princess Buttercup?" 

Susie: "No.  I am a warrior!"

Me: "You aren't a princess?"

Susie: "Noooooo, Mommy.  I'm a warrior."

I recall telling her that some time in the past; telling her that she is strong and could do anything.  I find it hilarious that she remembers.  Do I regret teaching her that? Nah.  She is still very sweet and girlie.  She can still learn to be civil and polite.  But she has time and time again proven that she has the spunk of a warrior.  My sister-in-law recently told me that Susie is bossy (as Susie made demands of her much older cousins).  I like how a friend put it the other day: "Wow! She is really going to be a leader." :) I hope so.  And, I hope she is a civil, polite, confident one.

Sweet Tweet

I bent over to stretch my back and rested my head on the arm rest of the couch.  Susie walked over to me and said, "What's wrong, Mommy?  What's wrong, beautiful sunshine?" What a lovely child.

I get no respect

I'm sitting on the couch preparing for a big work project.  I've been responsible for Susie's well-being while her daddy took his older kids back home across the state; so, now it's his turn.  They are sitting on the love seat in the same room, working on a sticker book.  Daddy said to Susie, "Where should this sticker go?"  She replied, "Right here, Slick. Right here." 

It sounds like . . .

Susie is starting to experiment with more complex words now that her speaking confidence is growing.  Sometimes, her interpretation of words makes for interesting fodder.  For example, the other day Susie announced that "Daddy is a boy."  I half acknowledged her.  She went on to say, very proud of herself, "Daddy is a boy.  He has a pinkie between his legs. There in the front, between his legs."  What? What did she say?  I look up from the veggies I was chopping to see her looking at her fully clothed daddy, pointing to his genitalia.  Ummm.  Pinkie?  We pride ourselves on calling things by their anatomically correct name, so I guess what we call it hasn't really registered.  She found a word that she knew as a substitute.   On a seperate note, I guess this was our heads up that THIS is the age where we should find some time to let Susie shower on her own instead of popping her in and out of Mommy or Daddy's showers.  :^O

Less embarrassing, but along the same lines of hearing what you are familiar with instead of what is being said. . . . Susie loves Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  There is a character on there called the Professor.  He randomly shows up and every time he does, Susie giggles.  I was initially concerned that maybe she had her first crush . . . on a duck . . . on an old, odd sounding duck . . . that is a cartoon.  Whew! Well, it turns out the reason she found him so hilarious is that she thought his name is Pacifier.  Her long lost friend that we had to abandon in favor of straight teeth.  It took me awhile to figure this out.  But one day while watching she told me "That Passey is so silly."  I looked around and asked, "What passey."  And she responded, pointing at the tv, "THAT passey, Mommy.  That pacifier is so silly.  He made Donald a frog."

Geometry Lesson

Susie and I were reading a book about all of the things that could happen to Elmo, and that no matter what, Elmo's mommy would still love him.  At one point Elmo asks if his mommy would still love him if he had corners.  I pointed to the picture and showed Susie that Elmo was square.  She looked at me and said, "No, Mommy.  Elmo's a cube. He's a cube, Mommy." Of course he was in fact a cube.  I just didn't know she knew that word.  Silly me.

Darn it!

On the way home from eating dinner at my parents' house, Susie announces that she wants a lollipop when we get home.  I told her that it is a little too late to have sweets, and maybe she can have one tomorrow.  Susie slaps her hand on her leg and says, "Darn it! Darn it, Mommy!" She doesn't miss ANYTHING!

No!

Susie has a sinus infection and has been a bit of a crank-pot because of it.  After a trip to the doctor's office, we stopped at Nana and Grandpa's house to say hi and ended up staying for lunch.  At the table, Susie kept telling everyone, "NO!" It didn't matter what question we threw at her, the answer was "NO!"  I realize that this is something common amongst two year-old kids, however, Susie is usually a yes girl.  Anyway, after a string of grumpy no's, Nana asked Susie if she had any yes's in there.  Susie responded (of course), "NO!"  So, Nana asked where her yes's went, and Susie said, "They're in the trash can!" 

Ohhhhh.  Well, I guess that explains it. We'll have to go buy some new yes's.

A Wink and a Smile

Susie and I went for a walk around the block today after dinner.  A car approaching us slowed to turn right.  Susie looked at it and said, "The car is wink-king at me! It's winking, Mommy!" And proceeded to wink back at it.  I had to take a second look at the car to realize that she was talking about the blinker.  As the car drove off down the side street, Susie stopped and waved at it, and said, "Bye bye car.  Nice to see you!"

Brimstone and Fire

On the way home, Susie chirped up from the back seat again demanding that I stop talking to her daddy and start talking to her.  She has gotten into the habit of this, so I started asking her, "What do you want to talk about?"  This time, without that prompting, she immediately said, "Let's talk about fire."   . . . OK . . . "Fire hurt.  Fire a sin ... and it's dang - er- ous TOO!"  Did she just say sin? Yep, she said it again; it's a sin because it's bad. We figure she must be learning some religion at preschool.

Names

I don't know what makes me think that it would be an easy thing for a 2 and a 1/4 year old to name things.  For goodness sake, it took us a long time to come up with Susie's name. We looked at all of the baby name books and all of the baby name websites.  I even sat around with two guy friends with whom I went to school and laughed hysterically over all of the names that would sound horrible with my last name.

After months of deliberation, all we knew was that we didn't want a name that everyone else had.  I grew up in the seventies, and I remember all of the Jennifers, Michelles, Johns and Stephens.  The social security data showed that the name we loved the most (Isabella) was also the favorite name of everyone else having a baby girl.  I remember going into Baby's R Us and hearing "Izzy," "Bella," and "Isabella" so often that I couldn't dispute the data, even though I wanted to.

We ended up with Susie's name as a combination of family names and my bff from kindergarten, whose name I have apparently always loved.  Susan was her paternal grandmother, who passed away a few years before she was born.  Her middle name is my middle name, which is my maternal grandmother's name.  And, Susie, her nick name, has always just been my favorite name.  I've had a cat named Susie, a doll named Susie, and it is the fake name I'd given out through my 20's and early 30's to men I'd meet and not want to see again.  . . . Come ON, don't furrow your brow at me! . . . You know what I'm talking about.

So, why I expect to give Susie an object and have her be able to name it on the spot is beyond me.   Though, her name selections have proven to be quite hilarious.

We brought her home a bright red, plush lobster from Boston.  She was a bit taken aback by its appearance. When I decided that she had finally warmed up to it, I asked her what she wanted his name to be.  She looked at it (still skeptical that she wanted to take ownership of it) and said, "Couch."  . . . What?  . . . She nodded her head and said again with more conviction this time, "Couch."  That's been two weeks ago now and she still calls him Couch. 

I've been going through Susie's room, getting rid of all of the stuff that has accumulated over the past two years.  I pulled out some of her very first red high tops.  Nope, I'm not quite ready to part with them. So, we suggested to Susie that we put them on her Teddy.  They fit perfectly!  Then, Susie wanted him to have on a shirt.  I pulled out a 0-3 month old onsie, white with pink polka dots, and stuffed him in it.  Susie announced, "I have a baby!"  She walked around holding him like a proud mommy, made him a crib out of one of the boxes I'd just emptied,wrapped him in a blanket and fed him a (pretend) bottle.  When she came back over to me on the couch (no, not the lobster . . . the actaul sofa) she held him sweetly and said, "I love my baby!"  I asked her what his name would be, and she said, "Polka dot." I tried to lead her to a real name and asked, "Yeah, what's the name of your bear wearing a polka dot shirt?"  She looked at me as if I were not nearly as intelligent as the bear itself and demanded, "Polka dot is name!"

Today we learned that her naming prowess extends to herself as well.  Susie and her daddy were in the kitchen and as I was walking by, I heard her tell him her first and middle names.  I chimed in and tried to get her to say her last name too.  Instead, she told me, "My name not Susie, Mommy, it's Table."  . . . What? . . . She said, "I'm Table!" She said it in such a matter of fact voice that I didn't dare challenge her.  I guess she wasn't feeling Susie today.

Oh well.

Mommy and Susie Happy Time

Susie loves "Mommy's bed."  Even Daddy's side of Mommy's bed.  She, in particular, loves sleeping there.  As a special treat, some times at night, when time permits, she and I crawl into Mommy's bed and read books.  It is a very sweet time for me.  As I read, she cuddles up to me and points to items of interest in her her books.  With some of her books that we have read over and over and over, she will either say some of the pages along with me, or if I pause mid-sentence, she will finish it. 

One book we like to read together is Elmo's 12 Days of Christmas. Last night she even became so comfortable with it that she sang the words for the first day of Christmas, " . . . and a red monster up in a treeeeeeee!"  We both giggled each time she was required to sing.  One of our favorite books is Mr. Brown Can Moo by Dr. Seuss.  She knows all of the sounds and I always pause to let her say them.  Tonight, after we finished reading the page where the hippopotamus is chewing gum, I started to turn the page.  Susie said,  "No Mommy.  No turn the page. . . .  Let's TALK about it." So, we talked about the hippo's crazy eye brows and Mr. Brown's moustache.  After all of her questions were answered we were finally able to finish the book. 

After book time we say our good night prayers.  Susie tells me, "Say Dear Gods, Mommy."  It is usually some version of, "Dear God, thank you for this wonderful day and *insert all of the fun stuff Susie did that day*. And, dear God, please help us tomorrow to be better about *insert all of the stuff Susie had to be fussed at about that day*.  Dear God, please bless all of the people that love me and all of the people that I love.  Dear God, keep us safe, healthy, happy and *insert other feel good words* through out the night and bring us a bright, new, joyous tomorrow.  Amen."

After prayers, we sometimes sing songs or tell stories.  We always have a few more giggles and tell each other that we love each other a few more time.  There are always plenty of hugs and an abundance of kisses.   As I said, it is a special time for me to spend with my daughter.  I try to have as many of these nights as I can.

Tonight, after it was all done and time for her to go to her bed and go to sleep, I told her, "Susie, it is time for night-night.  It's getting late." 

Susie snuggled closer to me and said, "No Mommy.  It's not getting late.  It's not night night time.  It's still happy time."

I asked her, "Happy time?" 

She said, "Yes, Mommy.  It's still Mommy and Susie happy time."

Such sweet words.  I'm thrilled, no . . . I am so very moved, that my special time WITH her is also special time FOR her. With her simple words and tender snuggles, she has taught me a whole new meaning of the word love.  I know that tomorrow our Dear Gods will include an abundance of thanks for Mommy and Susie happy time.

Bugs II

Susie has somewhat of a fascination with bugs.  Maybe because I scream hysterically when I see the filthy, disgusting creatures and her daddy treats them like they are his long lost friends, reincarnated.  She will walk right up to them (they are usually dead or dying, on their backs, feet maybe still waving in the air, trying one last time to try to right themselves and get away).  Many times when I have to go check on Susie in the middle of the night, it is because she is yelling (in her sleep) about some bug not doing something that she wanted it to do or getting too close to her.  When I go in her room, there are no bugs to be found, but she's usually not awake either.

****Just as a side note, let's be clear . . . there are NOT THAT many bugs that come in the house.  Believe me, if there were I would have taken care of the problem, or moved away from the problem, if necessary.  However, we do live in an old house, and some times bugs do find their way to come in and die in our home.*****

The other night, I was sitting on the couch winding down from my day and I heard Susie start yelling about some bug in her room preventing her from sleeping . . . I went to check on her and she pointed to a blanket on the floor, "under there!"  Now, I would squash a bug on the floor, but I'm certainly not going to pick up a blanket and risk the creature jumping out at me.  So, I rounded up her daddy.  He picked up the blanket, and it was not there.   So, Susie started yelling and pointing, "It went under the toy box!" "It went under the shelves!" *scream, scream* "Get the bug, daddy!!" "Under the toys, daddy!" All the while, her daddy was moving furniture and toys on the great hunt for the wayward bug.  I had to leave because I was laughing so hard.

Embarassing Tweets

I work helping abused and neglected kids and because somewhat urgent things arise with them, I end up taking calls at odd hours.  I usually let the person on the other line know that they might hear my two year old in the background.  I, after all, feel compelled to uphold some semblance of decorum in my own family life when I'm dealing with people that (1) have the ability to recommend that your child be taken from your custody, or (2) have had their child removed from their custody, or (3) have a foster child in their home.  It just makes good sense.

Last night I was on the phone with a lady that has custody of a child that was neglected by his mother.  I was riding home from Sears after spending THREE hours picking out and purchasing a new refrigerator . . . with Susie in tow . . . waaaaaay past her bed time. I kept hoping that Susie would fall asleep  before we returned home.  We pulled up to my house and I began getting her out of her car seat and not only was Susie not asleep, she started talking about her daddy being home.  The lady on the other end of the call mentioned that she could hear what Susie was saying and remarked how cute she sounded.  Then . . . *drum roll please* . . . Susie said as clear and as loud as I've ever heard her speak, "Daddy at home.  Daddy naked inside. Daddy NAKED right THERE!" 

..... Ummmm. 

                    .................Ummmmmm.  How do you explain that? 

We laughed. 

For the record . . .  he was home and inside, but he was fully dressed.

Just a Little Bit

It occurs to me that Susie has learned the subtleties of "just a little bit" as opposed to all. When she woke up this morning, she was thrashing about her bed yelling at something. As I was getting out of the shower, all I heard was a series of "no! no! no!" and "aht! aht! aht!" followed by some undeterminable yelling. I poked my head in the door and asked her what she was fussing about. She rolled over and looked at me with still sleepy eyes, and said, "Want Mommy to hold Susie for a little bit." I was, as always, in a hurry to get ready for work, but I told her I had "just a little bit" of time . . . so I scooped her up and we had some snuggle time before we got on with our day.


This evening, Susie was struggling to go to sleep. Her daddy poked his head in her door and asked if she wanted to be rocked. She told him that she'd stay in her bed, but said, "I would like a little bit of water in a sippy cup, please." He passed by me on the way to kitchen and commented on her use of "a little bit". He theorized that it was as if she knew that if she just asked for water, he probably would have told her no.

Nah. She can't be that smart. . . . But can she?
When she asks Nana for sweet tea or candy, Nana knows I don't like her to have it. So, Susie is told she can have "just a little bit."

When I am in a hurry and Susie asks to be held, I will usually concede, but tell her "just for a little bit."
When I ask Susie to do something that requires patience I know I'm going to get her to be still for very long, so I tell her that I need her to sit quietly for "just a little bit."

We've taught her a fine lesson in negotiation.  She might not get everything, or all of what she wants, but if she asks for "just a little bit" it is more likely to go her way.  "Just a little bit," makes it OK. That just seems like such a complex thought process to me.

Shame on me for underestimating the intelligence of a 27 month old . . . just a little bit.

What's that smell?

Upon learning that it would be just us girls for dinner tonight, I convinced my mom to join us for dinner.  Being cranky for a variety of reasons, including having to purchase a new refrigerator and having a difficult, contentious day at work, I wasn't up for choosing our dining location.  My mom chose the local Mexican joint down the road from their home.  As soon as we arrived, Susie announced that she needed to use the potty.  So, she and I marched off to the disgusting potty.  You know the kind . . . urine still in the pot and on the toilet seat, paper strewn about the floor and that something icky kind of smell.  I disinfected everything that Susie might touch, and then let her get on to do her business.  When she finished we washed hands and headed out the door. 

We got into the booth and I notice a not-so-pleasant smell.  I looked at Susie and thought, great, I let her get potty funk on her. Or, worse, she had a "little extra" and went in her panties.  As I'm trying to figure out what to do, Susie loudly said, "I smell potty!" I told her that yeah, I did too and continued with my physical inspection of her being and my thoughts on what to do.  Then . . .*sniff, sniff* . . .  I caught another whiff of the smell. . . . *sniff, sniff* . . . Wait a minute! That's not POTTY we smell . . . It's the fish from the next table over!!!

Yummm.  I hope they enjoyed their potty fish.

First day of preschool

Susie started her first day of preschool.  We have been preparing her for quite some time.  She has read books about going to school and how mommy comes back; been told about how fun school is and how mommy comes back, over and over at every opportunity; and she has pretended to be at preschool with her cousins . . . who incidentally are all graduates of the same preschool.  I dropped her off this morning; she did fine.  I cried.  It was after all the first time that I ever left my child in the hands of people that are not related to me.

I went to pick her up and as I was walking down the hall, I heard wailing.  It didn't sound like Susie, but you never know what a kid might sound like after an hour or so of crying.  I peeked my head in the door and nope, Susie wasn't crying. She was sitting nicely at a table creating a picture with markers and crayons!  Yea Susie!! On the way home, I asked her if that kid had cried the entire time.  When she affirmed that he had, I asked her why he was crying.  She told me, "He missed his mommy.  Susie missed mommy but  mommies always come back."

Just as a side note, I had a friend pass away yesterday.  She was only in her forties.  I am almost in my forties.   Let me take a moment to say, dear God, please let Susie's truth about mommies be true for her for a very long time.  Please.

Look at me! Look at me!

We were driving home from the store last night, talking about the events of our day.  From the back seat we hear, "Mommy, stop talking!"  I looked at her with my stink eye and reminded her that she doesn't get to talk to me that way.  She said, "Mommy, stop talking to daddy.  Start talking to SUSIE . . . now!" I guess this is better than whining to get my attention.

Lullabies

I didn't know any lullabies when Susie was born.  Or maybe I did and just couldn't think of them because I was so darn tired and stressed out about making sure she had enough food.  So, I sang her the only song that I knew all of the words . . . Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.  Some might say that even then I didn't always get ALL of the words right (and they would probably be right).  I've never been into bands or rock stars or knowing all of the songs sung by an artist or knowing all of the words to songs.  Never.  I remember back to my pre-Susie days playing some game with friends of mine when the card gave you the beginning of the lyrics and the players finished them.  I NEVER knew the words.  My friends gave me sympathy points for my efforts.  Well, actually, it was a big group of guys and me, so more than likely I probably received points for being a girl.  Whatever.  I took them. 

But the point is, I am not good with song lyrics.  This is why Susie has an odd assortment of songs that I sing to her at night.  Of course we have Rudolph, and we have the Susie song, and we have a bizarre version of Hush Little Baby.  The Susie song is really just B-I-N-G-O changed to "Mommy has a little girl and Susie is her name.  S-U-S-I-E. . . ."  You have to stretch the syllables in the word "name," but it works and it may be what helped Susie learn to spell her name at such a young age.   Our own version of Hush Little Baby came about because I couldn't remember the words, so I went with what I know:

Hush little Susie, don't say a word
Mommy's going to buy you a mocking bird
And if that mocking bird won't sing
Mommy's going to buy you a diamond ring
And if that diamond ring won't shine
Mommy's going to buy you a 5 and dime
And if that 5 and dime goes bust
Mommy will set up a revocable trust
And if that trust should lose it's corpus
Mommy's going to buy you a Sea World porpoise
And if that porpoise should fail to do tricks
Mommy's going to buy you a team called the Nicks
And if those Nick's should fail to play
Mommy's going to buy you a horse and sleigh
And if that horse won't pull that sleigh
We'll try again another day.

Shhhh.  Night night. 

Jack Pot

I went back in Susie's room to check on her after I heard the faint sound of metal clinking against metal. She had been napping, so I didn't know if the noise was Susie generated or cat generated. I peaked in her door and found her in her closet pulling on the purple skirt we bought at last year's Greek Festival. For a short period of time we used it as dress up garb for Susie, but then it was misplaced. . . until now. When Susie heard me, she looked up with so much excitement and joy, and said, "Susie found skirt with money on it!" I helped her get it out of the closet and on her little body, and she looked at me earnestly and said, "Go to store. Go buy stuff." Who needs a wallet when you have a money skirt!?!

Hooked on Phonics

Ever since Susie was a baby, she has been watching Sesame Street's 20 year celebration movie.  When she first learned to speak, she would ask to see the La-las (because through out the movie Big Bird searches for people to sing La Las).  Now, Susie says something that sounds like, "Snesmee Steet."  She has very few words that I can't pick out, so it's not often that I have to correct her.  And, well, even sometimes when she doesn't get it exactly right, I still don't correct her.  For example, her formal greeting is "hi-low" rather than hello.

But for some reason, snesmee steet bothers me, so I feel the need to correct it. 

Me: Susie, it's Sess-ah-mee street
Susie: Snesmee Steet
Me: Say sess
Susie: Sess
Me: Say ah
Susie: Me Steet
Me: No, Susie, say sess ah mee
Susie: Snesmee Steet
Me: Repeat what I say.  Sess
Susie: Sess
Me: ah
Susie: Me Steet.

And it continued like this for at least 10 more attempts.  She still says Snesmee Steet.

Bittersweet

We will soon be going on a trip and leaving Susie with my parents for the weekend.  Tonight is her trial run.  She has spent the night with my parents before, when she was much younger.  Now, she has her night-night routines and a preference for sleeping cuddled up to her mom, so we thought a trial run would be appropriate.   If I were to be completely honest, the trial run is as much for me as it is for her.  The last time I left her overnight was back in December and I took her extra blankie with me . . . and it was still hard for me!

I had drop-off duty again today. I packed her blankie, her Elmo pillow and her pink monkey along with her change of clothes and pajamas.  I explained that she was having a sleep over at Nana's tonight, and built up the fun she was about to have.  She was lying on my bed drinking her milk and repeated over and over, "Stay with Mommy."  On the drive over to my parents' house, we talked about the fun she would have with Nana and Grandpa and about how much Mommy was going to miss her, and she kept saying, "Stay with Mommy."

We got to my parents' house and she saw Grandpa out in the yard doing some work.  We all went inside and Susie gave her good morning hugs and kisses to Nana and Grandpa. I sat on the arm of the couch and lingered. Like sitting on the arm of the couch wasn't a real commitment to staying, but it wasn't a commitment to leaving, either.  She was told the plan for the day, a trip to Target and the grocery store.  I lingered.  We talked about the sleep over.  And, I lingered. 

Finally, I told Susie that I had to leave.  She started pushing on me and told me, "Time to go now. Susie push you out the door."  Yay! Her first use of the pronoun "you" outside of I love you! 

Wait a minute!!!

Did my child just tell me she was going to push me out the door?  Oh well, at least as I was walking to the door she yelled behind me, "Bye bye, Mommy.  I love you very much."

Potty Talk

It seems indecent to talk about it, but as the book says, everybody poops. We are toilet training Susie. It has been a slow, haphazard process that seems to be more Susie directed than parent directed. We go with the flow. Sometimes she wants big girl panties and sometimes she requests a diaper. We've tried really hard to make it stree free. But, like all good parents, as we did in the very beginning, we still stand over her while she tries and then we clap and dance for her when she produces.

Either out of curiosity or imitation, she often insists that she get to observe our bathroom habits. Over time, we have started telling her that we need our privacy and that we want the door shut. Tonight, Susie announced that she needed to go poo poo on the potty. After I ensured that she mounted the throne safely, Susie looked at me and said, "Mommy, go away. Go do some-ting. Susie going poo poo. Need some privacy!" I stood there with my head tilted to the side, looking at her like she just started speaking Mandarin, so she pointed to the door and said, "Mommy gooooo! Shut door. Susie poo poo in privacy!"

Presumptions and Assumptions

This week I get drop off duty for Susie. It means that I have to get up earlier so I can still make it to work at a reasonable hour. But it also means that instead of the tired Susie, who incessantly chants about returning to Nana's house and getting out of the car seat, I get the freshly awake and in a good mood Susie. I enjoy taking her in the morning. We get to talk and sing songs without any distractions . . . well except for the whole driving thing, but you get that I don't have to answer a phone call or email, get dinner out of the oven, or attend to some other nuisance that limits meaningful conversation.

This morning, our conversation went like this:

Me: "Susie, what are you going to do at Nana's today?"
Susie: "Going on AIRPLANE! Go way up in the sky!"
Me: *curiously asks* "Where are you going?"
Susie: "Far away." *very matter-of-factly stated*
Me: "Oh, OK." *As if I understood, when in fact I was just more curious. Usually, airplane conversations involve Disney World as the destination, so I was curious about this new mysterious place.* "Soooooo, what are you going to do when you get there?"
Susie: "Do some stuff. Have fun."
Me: *thinking, OH, of course!* "Who's going with you?"
Susie: "Nana and Alex. And, Susie go, too."
Me: "OK. When are you coming home?"

. . . . . . Silence. . . . . . .

Our conversation made me think about how smart Susie is. We went on an airplane with Nana and her cousin, Alex, when she was only 18 months old. Since that time she sporadically talks about going on a plane "way up in the sky!" I presumed that, like usual, she was talking about her memory of our trip to Florida. When I arrived at Nana's I learned that going on a trip wasn't on the agenda. However, playing in the boxes and pretending they are airplanes was on the agenda.

. . . . Still silence. . . . . .

So, while I was thinking about how grown up she was getting, it dawned on me that I should give her some positive reinforcement for sleeping her her own bed last night. You see, normally, at 2:30 am EVERY morning, some internal clock in Susie goes off and she starts screaming, "No! No! No! No!" like someone is yanking her out of bed and taking her away. Every morning, at 2:30 am I bolt awake like someone is yanking Susie out of bed and taking her away, and I must go rescue her. Of course, she is always just in her bed mad that she is awake and alone. Of course, I keep getting up and checking on her because I have read about "The Boy Who Cried Wolf." Inevitably, more often than not, she ends up returning to bed with me. In my defense, it is often the quickest way that I can get back to sleep. And, deep, continuous sleep is something more precious than societal approval for not co-sleeping.

My attempt at positive parenting went like this:

Me: "So, Susie, Mommy is very proud of you for sleeping in your own bed last night."
Susie: "Mommy not like Susie."
Me: "WHAT?" *certainly I heard her wrong*
Susie: "Mommy not like Susie. Not want Susie in bed with Mommy."
Me: "Baby! Mommy LOVES you. I LOVE spending time with you! I love snuggling with you! Mommy likes Susie, but also likes for her to sleep in her own bed. . ."

Then I began an endless, incoherent rant about how much I loved her and it was good that Mommy wanted her to learn how to sleep in her own bed. The rant, in retrospect, was more for my benefit, I'm sure, than hers. She mistakenly assumed that I didn't like her because I didn't want her in bed with me at night. The simple explanation would have helped her understand. She certainly didn't need me telling her about the theories I'd read in countless parenting books. But I apparently needed them to help me feel better about my position on raising an independent child.

Today's presumptions and assumptions landed us at the wrong destination.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Susie is getting ready to go to preschool at the end of the month. I've worried about how she will get along with other kids in her class. Let's be honest - this is a concern of all moms . . . even the ones that won't admit it. Yes, yes . . . we all want them to be smart and learn and make good decisions, but we want them to do all of that while ALSO making friends. She has been going to Gymboree Play and Music classes since she was 9 months old, and hasn't really ever played with any of the kids. In fact, a lot of our time there has been spent teaching Susie that sometimes it is better to keep our (and by "our," I mean HER) hands off of others. She used to be excited to see Bella and Rhiannan, but after an initial burst of joy to see a familiar face, they all went their own direction. Perhaps it was the lure of things on which to climb, jump and beat.

People say that kids her age don't really play "with each other" they play "along side each other." However, there has recently been a shift in the kids that come to Gymboree . . . there is a group of kids that come together that all know each other from day care. THOSE kids play together. They seek each other out, they make sure they have a buddy with them . . . they play together.

Last night, we went to our friends' house for dinner. They have a two beautiful daughters - one 3 years old, and one almost 1 year old. This family has been part of Susie's life from when she was still a newborn squawking in the hospital. Ava came to meet Susie strapped to her daddy's chest in a Baby Bjorn carrier, fussing vehemently when her mommy held Susie. Ava and Susie have been to the zoo together, visited Santa together and had countless dinners together, but they've not ever really played together. Now there was the one time that Susie repeatedly took Ava's stuffed animal and Ava repeatedly expressed her disdain . . . Call me cynical, but I wouldn't say that is really "playing together."

Last night, Susie played together with a friend. Ava and Susie ran all over the house together, plotting and playing all the while. When Ava's daddy dared to open her bedroom door to make sure the girls were, well, still breathing, he was asked to leave. They played "hide and seek" together, where they would go somewhere together, one girl would leave, then come back to "find" the one she'd just left behind. They lied in bed together and pretended to go night-night. They played together.

On the way home, I asked Susie if she had a good time playing with Ava. Susie happily replied, "Yesssss, I DID have fun playing with Ava. Susie go back to Ava's house again. Go back soon."

. . . My heart burst with pride . . .

First, she all of a sudden developed the ability to talk in the first person when answering questions. Her daddy attributed this to his earlier reading of Dr. Seuss's "Green Eggs and Ham." I don't doubt it - she seems to pick up all sorts of skills from books. Second, Susie made a friend! She interacted with another child in a positive way and had a GREAT time doing it. I can now rest comfortably with the knowledge that she will do fine in preschool.

Sweet Tweets

Yesterday afternoon I went to see a movie and have dinner with a friend. Susie stayed at home with daddy and was in bed before I returned home. This morning when she woke up, she looked at me and said her usual, "Good morning, Mommy." I responded in kind and asked her what she and daddy did last night. She narrated her version of events from the previous day: "Mommy left. Daddy didn't leave. Mommy come back."

*Susie is known to narrate her life in such a manner, telling us exactly what she is doing at all times: "Susie going in the kitchen. Susie getting spoon out of drawer. Susie playing with spoon. Susie hitting Wrinkles with spoon. Mommy taking spoon. Mommy make Susie mad . . . ." This type of chatter continues throughout the day, however, this is the first time I've been privy to a narration of past events.*

At any rate, I reassured her that mommies always come back. She thought for a moment, gave me a hug and said, "Don't leave again, Mommy. I love you very much."

Awww. Such sweet words, made even sweeter by the fact that this is one of the only things that Susie says that is not in the third person.

Self Awareness

This morning Susie and I were playing on the floor, having a fun, uninterrupted moment. We had Noah's Ark on top of the sea (a storage bin flipped upside down). The animals were asking Noah's permission to come aboard, and once granted, they would enter two by two making the appropriate animal noises. Good times, right? Then Susie stood up, knocked all of the toys to the floor, went over and bothered the cat (read: pulled her, meowing all the while, off of the back of the couch) and then came over and made her toys start hitting each other. Exasperated with this change of behavior, I asked her, "Susie, WHAT are you doing?" And, she replied with a great big smile, "Susie being a stinkpot!"

Bugs

I don't like bugs. I see what we in the South politely call Palmetto Bugs and I scream. I scream while I beat them with a broom and I scream while I scoop them up to put them in the trash. If someone else is around, I scream while that person kills the bug and I scream while they scoop it up and put it in the trash can. Rest assured, my random squawking doesn't stop until I can no longer see the bug. So, it's only natural *said with wide eyes and head nodding* that when I read books to my child that have (sometimes cute) bugs in them, that I explain that when Mommy sees bugs, she squashes them.

Susie apparently learned what to do with bugs from her Mommy. We had been to Gymboree gym class, and then a quick trip about 20 miles away. Susie started to get antsy in her car seat . . . most likely because we made her ride in the car from quite some time past the magic hour that is her bed time. About 3 blocks away from the house, Susie starts giggling and says, "Susie squashed bug! Squashed bug goes POP, Mommy!" She paused a moment either for us to take that in or for her little mind to make sense of her new experience, and then added, "Pop just like a bubble!"

Respect

This morning we were rushing to get to work. My role is to get Susie ready for her day at Nana's. This particular morning, Susie was running around the house as "naked baby," and did not want to get dressed. Finally, after I'd had enough coffee to tackle the job at hand, I scooped her up and put her on the couch for at least a diaper. As I lifted her legs and slipped the diaper under her bottom, she frowned at me and said, "Susie wants some respect!"

. . . this is where I decide if I'm going to laugh or scold her for being sassy . . .

I replied, "then you need to cooperate!"

The beginning

Susie enthusiastically loves, which sometimes leads to less than gentle hands.* I will tell her that she needs to take her hands away from me until she can make them gentle. Move forward to this morning. As I was reprimanding my sweet, innocent, two year old child for telling me no, she said to me, "Take Mommy's mouth away from Susie!" I think she just told me to shut up.

* This is a euphemism for "she hits."