Battle

In the age of text messages, status updates and tweets, it seems a writer has an uphill battle on her hands. As those applications and more zap attention spans and destroy the lexicon, I refuse to go down without a fight. I refuse to fall prey to the world of snippets and sound bites. Bring on the full-length novel. Give me a story with characters and settings that develop over hundreds of pages, and in the end, leave me wanting more. As a champion of the language, I charge ahead with a book as my shield, a dictionary my sword and knowledge of the written word as my battle cry. With me I bring a new generation, instilling in them a thirst for knowledge and a desire for the written word. For no Church-child shall be left behind.

Cuddles

There are a many things that I won’t miss about the baby/toddler stage—tantrums, night wakings, inability to fully communicate and diapers, to name a few. But, I was just reminded that there is one thing I surely will miss. It came in the form of a six-word request from Jonas: I want you to hold me. He didn’t say it because he wasn’t feeling well or needed comforting. He said it because he likes to curl up in my arms where he feels safe, secure and loved. Will he say that same thing when he’s 9, 16 or 27? Perhaps. But I’m not going to hold my breath. Instead, I’ll just enjoy these moments of bliss that come nestled between temper tantrums and diaper duty.

Sugary Sweetness

My children had a very traumatic encounter this morning with the dreaded H1N1 vaccine. Jonas decided that he would be brave and let his sister step up to get it first. So he sat on a chair in the corner, watching the scene unfold, knowing he would be next. Kenna let out an immediate cry as the needle pierced her skin and Jonas instantly began to shrink down in his chair, nearly going fetal, hoping if he made himself small enough then the nurse would overlook him. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t work. With a still wailing Kenna on my one leg, Jonas climbed aboard the other, his anticipation continuing to mount. As the needle met his skin, he and his sister began to compete over who could cry the loudest. They both won.

We took a few moments to gather our composure before heading to check out. Tears still streamed down their cheeks as they clung to me, not sure if someone else would jump out at them, wielding a nasty needle and subject them to more pain. But suddenly, the tide began to shift when the woman at the checkout desk offered Jonas a sucker. Instantly, I watched my toddler go from hurt and insecurity to absolute delight. “Thank you,” he said with abundant gratitude. He held on tight to his treasure and started to laugh. “Wow! That’s pretty nice,” he repeated again and again as we left. He began to sound like a broken LP. “Wow! That’s pretty nice.”

And then the irony of the situation hit me. How often do we fear the minor, temporary pain that leads to a larger payoff in the end, and yet delight in the fleeting sweetness of something that, when consumed in quantity, rots our teeth, upsets our stomach and leaves us overweight? Or maybe, in the words of my father, the greater lesson was: everything in moderation—a little bit of pain mixed with a little bit of sugar, and all is right in the world.

Confession

I have a confession to make: I still lay with Jonas before each nap. It started when he entered the world an anti-sleeper and it continued for a few reasons. First of all, it was the most sure-fire way to get him to actually sleep. Secondly, because, in all honesty, I enjoyed it. He now has achieved the ability to fall asleep at naptime on his own, but I still like to curl up beside him for a few minutes as he winds down.

So why is that a confession? Because I can sense the eye rolls. I know that some parents’ school of thought believes in teaching self-soothing/self-sleeping from the get go. But the thing about being a parent is our styles are as unique as us. Me? I’ve never been able to commit to the suck-it-up-and-cry-it-out-method though we have used a variation at times. Instead, I have spent countless hours rocking, shushing and patting our children to sleep through different stages of their young lives. Has it always been easy? Certainly not. I have had some frustrating afternoons/nights, especially when I knew work or friends were waiting for me. But it has also given me so many moments of solitude and reflection with them as they drift off to sleep.

As I was with Jonas this afternoon, I couldn’t help but realize that our cuddle time together is winding down. Soon he will be starting school, giving up the nap and moving on to even more independence. While one side of me is always appreciative of new levels of independence, another side can’t help but be a bit sad. It makes me thankful for all those times I have made the rest of the world wait as I held him or rubbed his head so he could fall into dreamland. As time moves on, those moments will be fleeting, but thankfully I have a reservoir of memories to take with me.

Mr. Button

Over the last year, I have been absolutely amazed by Jonas’ language growth. To go from using a few words to full sentences, paragraphs and even stories has been such an incredible thing to watch. Of course being the sponge he is as his vocabulary ever-grows, we must be careful of what we say. Perhaps that is why our son sometimes sounds a bit similar to a little old lady.

I have been known to use the phrase “oopsy daisy,” much to my husband’s chagrin. He firmly agrees with “Notting Hill.” To paraphrase Julia Robert’s character, “That’s a phrase used only by little old ladies or girls with pigtails.” Or apparently 3-year-old boys. Feeling it had directional significance, Jonas soon morphed it into “upsy daisy” before creatively stepping it up a notch, believing it should work in the opposite direction as well. He can now be heard saying, “downsy daisy” as he pulls down his pants or puts down a toy. Couple this with the fact that his favorite expression is “Actually…” and he told me earlier today, “Mommy, I’ve been thinking about going to Chicago…,” and suddenly I’m beginning to wonder if this child is 3 or 83. Maybe he’s our very own Benjamin Button. But, I suppose in the grand scheme of things, having him talk like a granny is preferred to that of a trucker.

Strength

During a garage sale adventure a while back, I came across an item I always wanted as a child, but never got. So, as most parents do, I decided to live vicariously through my children and purchase said item for their amusement (and mine, too). It would be a few years before they reached the appropriate age. I tucked it away for another time until Jonas discovered it during one of his pillaging adventures. He begged to use it though he had absolutely no idea what it really was. “We’ll save it for your birthday,” I promised him, thinking it would be a fun activity for the kids and adults alike.

The big day arrived and with much excitement, we dusted off the Snoopy Sno-Cone Maker and put it to use. We quickly realized that this “child’s toy” was meant for an abnormally strong kid or a willing adult. And so, my friend Carrie and I proceeded to push and crank until we produced enough shaved ice to satisfy the impatient 3-year-olds. The result: 3 cups of juice with a hint of ice, 4 tired biceps and 1 blister.

I believe Snoopy will go back into the box for now. Sure, he will probably make a return visit on another birthday, but not until Jonas has the strength to bench 100 pounds. It’s funny how I don’t remember Snoopy requiring freakish strength or calloused hands when we were children. Or maybe we were just tougher back then because let’s face it: these delicate writer’s hands were made for typing, not strenuous sno-cone making.

Trophy

Over a year ago, I asked the doctor if we should try to potty train Jonas ahead of Kenna’s arrival. “Nope,” he told me without hesitation. “When he’s ready, he’ll let you know. Until then, just relax.” As much as I would have liked having just one child in diapers, I took his advice. We didn’t push the topic with Jonas. If he showed interest: great. If not, he’d get there some day. We went merrily on our way. During Kenna’s early months, I didn’t mind him still being in diapers because I didn’t have to worry about emergency potty visits at inopportune moments. So, we kept chugging along with the “relax” attitude. The whole move thing came up and we thought: why push it now when his whole world will be turned upside with the move?

But then it happened. I tried to stay calm, but the move was done, Kenna was settled and two of his friends who are his age mastered it. Maybe we should start “encouraging” him a bit. You see, he had gotten to the point where he would pee with our guidance, but the number two just wasn’t happening. Perhaps he just needed some further assistance to get there. So the bribing began. There was candy, money and visits to the “train store” (a.k.a. Barnes and Noble that has a Thomas layout). Each would stir up enthusiasm for a bit, but eventually fade away. We resorted to getting a frog potty chair, letting him sit in front of the TV while he tried to do his business. And still nothing. Then I offered something nearly irresistible to him. He was running low on toothpaste and I asked if he would like to get some Thomas toothpaste at the store. His eyes lit up. He jumped up and down with excitement. He sat down on that froggy potty and squeezed with all his might. The only problem was his cheeks seemed to clench just as they hit that chair. To both our dismay, we did not get the toothpaste.

So, we go to the doctor for Jonas’ three-year exam and he asks, “How’s potty training coming?” With an exasperated laugh, I say, “Not as well as I’d like it to be.” So I ask again, “Is there something we should do? Or should we just relax and let it happen in his time.” The doc looks at me and smiles, “Yep. When he’s ready, it will happen.” But why can’t he be ready now? Maybe because he’s scared or uncertain, or he realizes this is a big deal and he kind of likes the control thing. Or maybe it’s not about that psycho-babble at all. Perhaps he just doesn’t get it yet. Maybe we do just need to chill out and in time we’ll finally get there. And when it does happen, we shall spare no expense as we proudly and with great satisfaction present him with his trophy of accomplishment: Thomas toothpaste.