Month 43

Dear Olivia,

I'm sure you're wondering what's been happening to me lately - I spend a good portion of the day making strange noises while I feverishly rub my eyes.  You see me disappear upstairs in a hurry only to reappear with a puffy face and bright red glossy eyeballs.  I can only imagine that from a child's viewpoint, it looks like an ungodly Hulk-like metamorphosis that at any instant will cause my head to crack open only to have some mythical creature emerge.  Sadly, I wish it was some awesome earth shattering event but I'm afraid it's just allergy season.  In any other household this may not be a big deal but when you have two parents who suffer miserably, you're going to take notice.  Unfortunately, I hear it is genetic so have fun with this one. 

I'm extremely agitated this time of year because of allergies so my patience level is nil.  I struggle with patience to begin with so add all the other allergy crap on top, you're going to have an angry Mom and I'm sure you're aware.  You do a great deal of what I call, "roundabout talking" that drives me absolutely crazy.  You typically like to do this while in the backseat as we're barreling down the freeway.  Olivia: "Where are my headphones?"  Me: "I don't know, sweetheart.  Are they on the seat next to you?"  Olivia: "I don't know.  Hurry up and find them - I need my headphones."  Me:  "I can't look for them, I'm driving."  Olivia: "But I need them.  Where are my headphones?  HEADPHONES!  Where are my HEADPHONES!!"  I turn around, while driving, just to see if I can catch a quick glimpse of them just to put an urgent halt to this conversation.  Me: "Olivia, for crying out loud - they are in your hand!"  Olivia: "Oh.  I don't want my headphones."  Me:  "You don't want your headphones?  The headphones you've been inquiring about for ten minutes - now you don't want them?"  Olivia: "No. No I don't."  And there is one piece of evidence as to why your Mother drove off a cliff twenty years from now.

I find the mind of a preschooler to be quite interesting.  You bring up topics of discussion that are quite curious for a three year old's thinking.  I often find myself rather confused when I'm engaging in conversation with you because the questions you ask are so random.  Case in point, I found myself in a lengthy conversation with you at the dinner table as to why it is inappropriate to buy a human being.  You seemed rather confused and a little upset at the notion that it was never ok to buy a person.  Now, in the fascinating mind of a three year old, I would like to know when and why the suggestion of buying a human being entered your brain.  I know they're not talking about trafficking on Dora and Diego, or are they??  Is there some weird subliminal shit going down at Nickelodeon that parents are not aware of??  Yes, I will repeat it again.  No, you cannot buy or own a human being.  End of story.

I have been warned on numerous occasions that three year olds are worse than two year olds.  I remember thinking how this could even be remotely possible.  Unless my child actually turned in to a demon, I don't see how it could get worse.  It's funny how children can challenge those thoughts.  Three year olds are a much bigger different beast than a two year old.  A two year old doesn't communicate very well so there are a lot of dramatic emotional melt downs.  Three year olds are dangerous on a whole new level.  They're language has become frighteningly good.  Their demands have gotten a little more detailed and sophisticated.  They are fearless.  You, my dear are fearless and give little care to repercussions.  You are suddenly very defiant.  You ask me if you can paint.  I tell you no - we're about to have dinner.  This means nothing to you.  You'll ask another five times or so when suddenly you realize you're not getting anywhere asking me so then you'll just say - I'm just going to go paint.  When you realize negotiations are not going quite in your favor, you just go for it anyways except I'm on you like white on rice so your attempts to undermine me fall short.  You will ask repeatedly with the hopes that you can chisel away at my patience until I finally wave my white flag.  Unfortunately for you, I'm just as stubborn.  Looks like no painting for you.

We had a situation at your Preschool recently that involved your teacher expressing her concern that she didn't think you were well - in her words, your energy level seemed to be off and she caught you attempting to nap in the playhouse outside.  I know the real reason was because I sent you to school with green snot.  Now, if I kept you home from school every time you had green snot, you would have missed 90% of the school year.  You and every other child at that school has green snot - it's like a medal of honor for attending preschool.  I was actually quite taken back when she said your energy was low because you're still bouncing off the walls at home.  The napping in the playhouse sounds to me like you were bored - I've seen you do this at home.  After talking with your Dad, we came to the conclusion that maybe you were still upset about your friend moving away because when we approached you about the things your teacher was bringing up, you replied that you were lonely.  So I broached the subject to your teacher and she kind of brushed it off saying she didn't think it was loneliness that you were in fact sick.  Unfortunately, later in the same day, you developed pink eye.  Whether everything was related, I'll never know but pink eye is the worst.  It's goopy and gross and unavoidable as Miles learned.  I quickly got you on eye drops and your doctor said you were free to go about your day-to-day activities.  You were proudly declaring that you had pink eyes - "I HAVE PINK EYES - I LOVE PINK!!"  Just what I want, you announcing to your teachers, who already think you're sick, that you have pink eye.  I asked you politely to not say anything and keep it just between us.  You said ok.  When I picked you up from school, I asked you if you told your teachers that you planted your sunflowers.  You said, "No.  I told them I had pink eye."  Great job.

I'm afraid I have caught far too many glimpses in to your future teenage/20 something years.  You demand a taste of liquor when ever a bottle is popped open, you lift your shirt up while dancing while rubbing your belly and you straight up pissed on the bocce court we were playing on.  I'm quite certain this is a synopsis of a "Girls Gone Wild" episode.  I'm not quite sure what to make of my children when you're doing this and Miles is playing three different women in the near vicinity of our table when we're dining out.  You two are little disgusting party animals with an appetite for love and destruction.  Thankfully you're not dry humping stranger's legs or we might have far more serious issues.  People say children imitate their parents and I can attest that I have not exhibited this behavior in your presence.  Yes, I'm 99% sure I have not exhibited this behavior in your company.  Vulgar language doesn't count.

Love,

Momma

Month 42

Dear Olivia,

I am incredibly amazed how hysterical you get when you start to have articles of clothing removed.  Not hysterical from an angry standpoint but it's as if when you're naked, it some how evokes this animal within you who is trying to claw their way out.  There is an enthusiasm beyond comprehension that you exhibit when you're naked and it's a joy for nudity that I'm a little jealous of.  Unfortunately, responsibility and age seem to erase the joy of removing one's shirt and running around the house demanding everyone to "LOOK AT MY BELLY!!!"  It's not to say that no adults enjoy the sheer intensity of nudity that most children experience although they typically go in to "entertainment' or hang out at certain resorts with people I can only imagine are named Duke and Butch.  No no, the thrill of getting naked is certainly gone but I will continue to watch you vibrate across the house when I remove your clothes before bath time.

You have always been an excellent child when it came time to put you to bed.  I have heard stories of children flat out refusing, demanding just one more of something or constantly getting out of bed and having to be escorted back.  I finally understand the true meaning of every tired parent's favorite book, "Go the F**k to Sleep."  You have an impressive list of nightly routines you have to act out and ask before I can finally close the door before you belt out, "hold on a second - you forgot something."  There are times I return and you're unable to follow up that statement with anything which drives me mad but you've gotten smart.  Now when I return, you say in your sweetest voice, "I love you with all my heart."  You're smart because you know this statement won't make me mad and you know that this is the perfect time to ask for one more kiss.  As I'm leaving, you remind me that it wasn't a big kiss - you wanted a big kiss.  But wait, where is my hug to go with that kiss?  Didn't you mention I could have a sip of water too?  Miles now joins in on the action and demands a hug as well because I have been in there for a full 36 hours at this point.  Once I hear the farts making their way in to the room, I'm out because I'm not changing another diaper and I refuse to wait another fifteen minutes while you sit on the toilet reading books and singing songs.  Yes, that's great, love you to.  Yes, love you with all my heart.  Momma has got to go now - save me that hug for tomorrow.  And just like that I run downstairs and turn the baby monitor way down low and pretend you're fast asleep. My mantra is if I can't hear you, you must be ok.  So far so good.  This mentality works most nights but sometimes guilt gets the best of me and I'll have to go in to your bedroom one more time to properly say good night.  This occasionally means waking you up out of a dead sleep and scaring the bejesus out of you but it's enough to bring me comfort.

There are many times I question whether you and Miles should be in your own room and this is based on the fact that I have heard you on several occasions through the monitor tell Miles to "lay down and go to sleep - you're being too loud."  This in itself is astonishing because your voice could break glass.  There have been mornings when Miles wakes up painfully early and I know you're fast asleep.  He of course is used to you providing entertainment until I arrive to bring you downstairs for breakfast so he tries to wake you up by screaming at you from his crib.  I feel bad because I know you're tired but most of all I know if you don't get enough sleep, I'm the one who has to deal with the wrath of crabby you.  The problem is, when you two are awake, you do entertain each other until I'm ready to get you.  Without that comradery, I fear my shower may be cut short to nothing at all.  Looks like you just may need to endure Miles a little longer. 

You're driving me mad with your constant need to know what the "schedule" is for the day.  You ask me, "what happens after breakfast? What happens after lunch? What happens after nap?  What happens after dinner?"  I guarantee the answer to all of these questions will not be the answer you are looking for.  No, we are not going to Disneyland today and no, we are not going to a birthday party because let's be honest, you live for princesses and cake. 

This past month brought the passing of our Maddy.  You were tremendously close with her and I have wonderful memories of the two of you interacting.  Unfortunately, you're at the age where you don't understand everything but you understand just enough to make conversations awkward.  Having said that, I had to figure out a way of broaching the subject as to why Madeline won't be coming home.  I found myself at a crossroads - should I lie and say she went off to fun on the farm or do I play the religious card and say she's in Heaven, which your Atheist Uncle will tell you is just as bad as saying she's having fun on the farm.  Regardless, I decided to introduce the term 'Heaven' to you.  Now, I am not a religious person but I do find myself to be spiritual.  My parents didn't have me baptized when I was younger despite attending a Catholic church so that I could make this decision for myself and I greatly respect them for that decision.  I feel it's only fair that I present you and Miles with the same religious freedom.  You do attend a Christian preschool and Jesus is discussed quite a bit but how much you understand is beyond my comprehension.  You may think he's a character on Nickelodeon for all I know but he has been introduced. So when the time came and you asked me where Maddy was, I in turn told you that she's now in Heaven.  Your response was, "which Heaven?"  I explain to you that there is only one Heaven and Maddy is having fun eating massive amounts of peanut butter and kibble and lying in the grass.  You tell me that you miss her and I begin to think that maybe you understand a little bit.  That is until the next day when you ask me if we can go to Heaven and pick her up. 

At the end of the day, whether you decide to believe in Heaven is up to you.  If you want to believe there is a giant unicorn in the sky who poops rainbows, I'm all for it as long as you're happy and as long as you don't have a problem with my beliefs and try to convince me otherwise.  I'm not joining any damn cults, I don't care how awesome you think it is.

Love,

Momma

 

My life according to the camera

What have we been up to??

Besides spoiling our Corgi, Fabrizio, rotten with lots of walks, we celebrated St. Patrick's Day with cotton candy bigger than our heads, numerous trips to the library and a discovery of an awesome place called Studio Grow.  We went here for a birthday party and the kids had such a good time playing with everything from toy lizards to blocks to the little roller coaster.  Which, might I add, took everything I had to keep myself from jumping on it and going for a ride.

Olivia earned another ribbon in swim class advancing her to the level where she will now learn arm strokes.  Again, I was the loudest parent in the waiting room when she passed her test.  Not to be outdone, Olivia spent the remaining fifteen minutes of her class jumping up and down proclaiming "I DID IT! I DID IT!"

I discovered Ryan is quite handy with a saw - building a monster planter box for me.  Although, the final product eerily resembles a coffin - not sure if this was Ryan's subconscious taking revenge upon me for asking him to tackle this large feat. 

The weather remains cold and gloomy which means this California girl needs to pack up in search of some sunshine.  Any suggestions for a road trip??

Month 41

Dear Olivia,

You have been at preschool for six months now and still love it.  You get excited about going and sometimes it seems to be the only thing you can talk about.  You have never been worked up about going or ever told me you don't want to go.  I think a huge contributing factor to your good mood about school is your dear friend Sydney who you developed a close-knit relationship with early on.  I mentioned before that it took you a good couple months to warm up to the other kids and actually engage with them as opposed to watching them from afar.  Sydney was the first girl I saw you frolicking with around the playground, always holding hands.  When I dropped you off in class, Sydney was right there to give you a hug and say good morning.  When it was time to go, you always made sure to find her to give her a goodbye hug.  It is a super precious little friendship you two have developed and special since it's the first friendship you made on your own without me telling you, I'm friends with so-and-so's mom so you should be friends with her kid.  I am so thrilled that you developed a bond with someone early on and you did it all by yourself.  You can imagine how horrible I felt when I learned that Sydney was going to be moving away at the end of February.  It wasn't so much as a horrible feeling but more of a WTF!  You're here at preschool for six months and decide to move on!?  Seriously, WTF?! 

All I can think about is how am I going to tell you and more importantly, will you understand?  We can't get off so easily - you're first invited to attend her birthday party, you know, to really make sure the friendship sticks before it's yanked from your little hands.  For the course of the month, when I asked you the normal follow-up questions to your day at preschool, you would riddle off all the things you and Sydney did that day and I would ask if you played with anyone else.  No?  Perhaps you should.  No no, not Bella - anyone but Bella.  Ok fine, play with Sydney.  The month went by so fast and the birthday party was upon us.  The party would also be the last time you would see her.  According to your Dad, whom I might add braved a child's party with two kids on his own because I had a baby shower to go to - big props!  He mentioned you two were inseparable and when it was time to leave, you cried.  Sydney quickly came to your aid and told you not to cry, you two would see each other again soon.  It's probably a good thing I wasn't there because I probably would have forced every one to join in one huge group hug as we sang Kumbaya.  Seriously Sydney, if you're going to be leaving, at least be a horrible kid - scratch Liv or push her down - anything to make the departure less painful.  I know Bella would step up.

This past Tuesday would be your first class without your friend.  We've talked your ear off about Sydney leaving to prevent any surprises and I could already sense a difference about you.  You didn't want to go to school that morning and when I asked you why you told me that "Sydney doesn't want to be my friend anymore."  WTF Sydney?!  Again, I'm trying to explain to you that sometimes people move away but they never stop being your friends - obviously, you, a three year old is not understanding this explanation.  You get out of bed half-heartedly and get ready for school.  We make it to school but you really could care less.  When it's time to go in, you bury your head in to your hands and start crying.  You tell me you don't want to be there if Sydney isn't there.  Thanks a lot Sydney.  Your teacher sees me struggling with you outside and quickly brings you in.  This is typically where a distraction can be made so I can make a seamless escape.  No, this is not happening this time.  You begin to scream and throw one of the biggest tantrums I have ever witnessed.  What was briefly a happy classroom filled with chattering and laughing children quickly comes to a halt.  I see their little happy faces slowly turn to dread as they're witnessing you flail your body in your teacher's arms while screaming violently.  That's my cue to leave and of course, never a situation that makes a parent feel warm and bubbly upon departure.  I walk away so sad that you, a three year old, has to deal with this level of dissappointment.  It's not fair.  You will have a whole life of dissappointment, why does it have to start now?  Sure, we can plan play dates but it won't be the same.  She was a special part of you and you clearly don't understand because you're dealing with a heartbreak of someone you think no longer likes you.  This absolutely kills me as a parent. 

I'm beyond myself when it comes time to pick you up and I can only imagine the worst to how your day went at preschool with out Sydney.  I picture you playing in the sand by yourself and eating lunch by yourself as you watch the other children playing together from afar.  All of this isn't helping the least bit and I expect to open the door to see you huddled in the corner with a swollen face from crying uncontrollably for four hours straight.  Instead, you come bouncing to me with the biggest smile holding the hands of another girl as you proudly announce, "THIS IS KAYLEE, SHE'S MY NEW BEST FRIEND!!"  According to your teacher, you shed a tear for Sydney for a solid thirty seconds before moving on . . . to Kaylee.  So that's how it's going to be?  Sorry Sydney, I guess your relationship was as special as a toothpick. 

I was shocked and then relieved.  You were able to let out your emotions and move on.  Looking back, I'm almost envious.  I can't tell you how many times I wanted to throw a massive tantrum in public over my disapproval over something but we adults have to display a crappy thing called self-control.  You dealt with it the only way you knew how and you were able to move on from it.  Maybe we adults can learn something from this.  Perhaps our bottling up of emotions is the sole reason we hold on to things for far longer than necessary.  It's not as if you have forgotten Sydney - you remind me on a daily basis that she has moved away but the pain isn't so crippling that you're consumed by it.

You're much smarter than I give you credit for and I'm beginning to understand that a lot of your frustration is me and Dad not taking you seriously.  The other day you were being reprimanded . . again.  As you walked away, you shook your head and said, "this is ridiculous."  You're sassy and smart and that is what's going to make you Queen of the Universe one day.  I'm proud of the way you dealt with your first big heartbreak and I have confidence that you will be a strong woman one day.  Good job O-Bear.

Love,

Momma

Month 40

Dear Olivia,

To say it has been a difficult month would be an understatement and for the first time you're not the sole contributor to the problems.  That right there deserves a round of applause.  This past month has been jam-packed with a funeral, a car break-in and a sick dog.  Thankfully we decided not to bring you and Miles cross country for the funeral because you would have been very bored and very vocal about your boredom.  When we returned home, we were confronted with a very sick Maddy girl and her health quickly declined over the course of a couple weeks.  Your Father and I are devastated at the mere thought of Maddy being sick and naturally, began to think about all the bad things that could happen.  She still may have surgery in the coming week so we're not totally out of the woods yet but we couldn't help reminiscing over the bond you and Madeline have.  From the day we brought you home from the hospital, Maddy has been your friend and protector.  She has endured every finger to the eye, tumble on to her back and the most recent, permanent marker to the face and she endured all of this without snapping at you.  She has been a phenomenal "nanny" and we would miss her terribly if something happened to her.  You have expressed your concern to me about Maddy and promised me you would say a prayer for her before you went to bed the other night.  Fritz certainly won't tolerate your shenanigans so we need Maddy healthy to act as a buffer. 

I have been frustrated with you a lot this past month and maybe it's the culmination of everything or your constant need to harass Miles but you too have shown signs that you're also frustrated with us.  Typically after you have been reprimanded and you're asked to go sit down in the timeout chair, you usually call out some random word to get the last word in.  One incident, you started to walk away and you shouted, "and one last thing, PISTACHIO!"  You said it with a stern finger pointed at us and the dirtiest scowl I've ever seen displayed upon your face.  Your Father and I, dumbfounded by this bizarre moment, looked at each other and asked, "did she really just shout pistachio at us?"  Well the word has stuck in this house and has become a great stress reliever because I can't begin to tell you how many obscenities I would love to shout your way and we've all heard what happens when we casually say an obscenity in passing when we think you're not listening.  It seriously feels like I'm living with a parrot.  Anyways, 'pistachio' has become our faux obscenity word.  It's a nice word but has enough syllables to make you feel like you're really giving it to someone when you say it.  See, try it: "Pistachio you, you asshole!"  Feels good, huh?

You have always been in to dancing and music and now demand that I turn the music up when we're in the car.  This to me is a total luxury that I miss from pre-baby days.  Sometimes I fake an urgent errand I need to run just so I can play a song eardrum shattering loud in the car.  You recently told me you want to take dance lessons but I'm a little scared of getting caught up in some extreme dance school that makes you wear shiny jackets and crispy Aqua Net hair.  Besides, your dancing might be a little mature for the youngins being that you like to thrust your pelvis while belting out, 'I've got the moves like Jagger!'  It's every Mother's dream to see their three year old with these kind of moves.

You get in to trouble a lot and perhaps it's my fault for not giving you enough one-on-one time.  I feel like I'm always telling you, 'no,' 'stop,' or 'pistachio.'  I must complain a great deal to your Pediatrician because she always seems to be reassuring me how great of a kid you really are.  I'm pretty sure she thinks I hate you and we all know that's not true.  We just have an incredibly complex relationship where we're still trying to figure each other out.  We bicker a great deal and then we enjoy a cup of hot cocoa in tiny teacups.  We both fight to get the last word in and then we play superheroes outside in the court.  I'm not sure if it's normal for a Mother and toddler to argue as much as we do but I like to think it's because I have a strong-willed child.  I'm not opposed to you having an opinion that is yours I just wish your opinion matched mine.  I know, a common argument for most Mothers and hopefully one day when you're a Mother, you will understand.  Until then, I love you lots you little pistachio.

Love,

Momma

And a little look back at you and Maddy girl