the car

Today we celebrated a friend's birthday at a local diner at the end of a pier. We parked near the beach, walked ten minutes down a gorgeous boardwalk, and enjoyed our burgers and cupcakes. Lucy gave her friend a homemade card and present, and got a little cardboard pink Cadillac from the restaurant to take home.
She was distracted when I gathered our things, but I made sure to grab the pink car. "You know as soon as you forget it that they'll need it and have a meltdown about it," I said to the other people there.
We said our goodbyes, and Lucy happily took my hand as we made our way outside.

A minute or two later, I said, "I got your car,"
She stopped still. Her face crumpled. "No, Mama! That belonged to my friend!" And just like that, she was wailing.
You're kidding me, I thought. A meltdown for remembering the car?
We have to go in and give it baaaack", she said.
We had only minutes left on our meter. I knew it would take longer to navigate back upstairs, give back the car, go back out, and make it to our car. "We can give it to her next time we see her," I said.
"Noooooooooooo!" More melting down.

I was already carrying Julia, so there was no picking up Lucy. There was nothing else to do. I grabbed her hand, as gently as I could, I helped her walk down the pier.

Oh, is there any walk so endless than one with a screaming child? Every so often, I'd bend down and try to get her to calm down, but my one solution--giving the car to the friend later--was met with more screams. The fishermen, swimsuited tourists, the walkers and the restaurant-goers all stared at us as we walked down the boardwalk. We were much more entertaining than the fish.

Finally, we were almost to the end of the pier. Lucy fell to her knees and howled. "Noooo, Mamaaaaa! We have to give her her caaard!!!!!!"

Wait. Excuse me? The card?

I bent over. "Honey, she has your card. The card. I brought your car." I opened my bag, and pulled out the Caddy. "See?"

She looked in the bag, verified that there was, indeed, no birthday card in there, and said in a perfectly normal voice, "That's so silly!" Then she started skipping down the boardwalk as if she didn't have a tear-streaked face.

Ah, misunderstandings. Next time, I hope to have one on land.

still waiting

To feel confident parenting two girls,
to know how to navigate them,
their twin needs, nurse or nap,
play or discipline, older or younger.
Today, nothing went right, my attitude,
napping, speaking kindly, older biting younger.
At nine AM I was done,
with a full day left over.
I apologized for being cranky, twice.
We went for a walk, found dandelions,
veins in leafs, pine cones, clover.
We bought lemonade from our neighbors.
Not a perfect day, but survivable.
Each day is harder than expected,
but also more lovely, magical, full.
I'm waiting, but also living, now.

shrieking

Julia's shrieking? The kind I wrote about here? It has not gone away.

Here's when she shrieks: at the drop of a hat. At dinner. Or any meal, really. When she does not want what she has on her plate, and/or is done. Or thirsty. Or maybe just morose. Who knows? She is a baby, and can't tell us.

She seems a little pickier than Lucy at this age, but that just might be because she SCREAMS WHEN I DON'T GIVE HER EXACTLY WHAT SHE WANTS WHEN SHE WANTS IT.*

I'm not much for running after children with food, but this baby? I will start pressing food against her lips, in the hopes that she will just STOP SCREAMING. Here's what goes through my head:
Eat the ham! *($()$) just eat the ham! Okay--what about apples? Please? Please? Ack! Now you don't like apples? %$#^!

It does not help that we are getting towards the end of the week and our go-to foods are depleted (banana, peach, spicy italian sausage**).
And yes, she does want the food. When she gets what she wants, she will eat astonishing quantities, and then sleep through the night. Thus making me a little more into her eating astonishing quantities.

The shrieking is a phase, right? A phase? And if so, it will end soon, right?
Not that soon, you say?
Don't make me start shrieking.

*What's strange about this behavior is she is truly the sweetest, most easy-going baby any other time. Put her in a high chair, though, and beware.
**Yes, she's a quarter Italian. She has also started gesturing expansively when she's baby-talking.

who are the ad wizards that came up with that one?

Lucy asked for some waxed paper today and spent a good ten minutes carefully folding it into a narrow strip. To this she taped two twisty ties (one orange, one blue).
"Look, Mama," she said. "A prince shooter!"
"A what?" I asked. Our taste in fairy tales here runs to the traditional, end stop. Favorite pretend game? Cinderella. Favorite dress-up outfit? Princess gown. Favorite video? Faerie Tales. You get the picture.
Not in the picture: regicide.

Lucy explained her invention. "See? A prince shooter! Princesses press the red button (indicating orange twisty) and pop! a prince comes out! A boy can press the blue button! Pop! See, the prince is dancing on the table!"
"Look at him go!" I said, admiring the invisible, jigging, foot-high princ. "How convenient to be able to get princes whenever you want!"

Wouldn't Lucy's invention really change the dynamic of all of those old fairy tales? Who needs booby-trapped mattresses, slimy frogs, or a cantankerous beast when you can have the Prince Shooter (TM)?
Batteries not included.

too many projects

Every once in a while, my good intentions catch up to me.
I like a good project to sink my teeth into, challenge myself, improve things around the house.
Except starting them is just a little easier than finishing.
Here's a list of on-going projects. Perhaps listing them might make me more likely to finish?

1. Frame Lucy art and display for fun and quick (well, not so quick) home decorating! (3/4 framed, sitting on the floor)
   
2. Refi house to save $$$$. I called our bank and did not get a call back. Smashing.
   
3. Learn how to use coupons to save $. So far, I am doing a lot of thinking about using coupons to save $.
   
4. Make a beach blanket for the summer. Hmm. I have what, fifteen days left?
5. Finish making happy birthday banner for Lucy. A looming deadline helps.
   
6. Sundry other sewing projects. Not a good sign when you can't remember what they are.
7. Make the doll/hair that I started with Lucy. Why I let her talk me into putting hair onto a "quick" project we started together, I'll never know.
8. Probably something else I'm forgetting.

Note to self: Do not start any other undertakings until this list is finished.

no cooking school yet

Today, Lucy asked for a music stand with some sheet music on it. We retrieved some songbooks from her room, and she opened a colorful Mother Goose song book. She found the page for Hot Cross Buns (which she doesn't know), and said, "I will sing my own song to this."
Here's how it went:
We eat some socks!
We eat some bear stuffed animals!
We eat some chef's hats, yes!

Here's my chorus:
We cough up stuffing
and thread and yarn--
Let's wear the hats instead!

mice/men

My parents volunteered: watch both girls.
Two hours: I drop off/pickup.

Dropoff. Exchange cars with the carseats.
In their car, I dream big:
Lunch, nap, clean. Relax, read, tea.
Home! Pause. The garage door opener?

In my car. With my purse.
And the cellphone. #$@$. @%%*&. %$#^.

Returning to their house, revising plan:
Get keys. Drive home (again). Lunch.
Look at clock. Get my girls.

What is it they say again?
The best laid plans...ah, well.

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