My big girl is five!

And then she was five. We had a wonderful weekend, celebrating my lovely daughter. I worked overnight the night before the big party day so it was stressful for me but we had such a great time. Everything worked out, just as I knew it would.

On Saturday, I came home early to scoop up my girl and get ready for the party. Eliza asked for a repeat of last years very successful kid party at the little gym followed by a surprise party at home. Okay, it wouldn't be much of a surprise for her this year but she still really enjoyed it. Knowing there'd be a party afterwards saved her from having the meltdown she had last year. Or maybe it's just because hey, she's five and could handle it.

So after I picked her up and she spent the day with her father while I made the lasagna for the after party, we all set out for fun at the little gym. Eliza and her friends had a great time and while we were there, my father and his wife decorated my home and heated up our dinner. We came home to two dozen balloons and pretty pink streamers strewn through the apartment. Eliza loved all of it.

But a surprise still waited the following day, her actual birthday. Though one of the girls kind of let the cat out of the bag at the little gym by saying "I'll see you at your house tomorrow," Eliza didn't realize that two other friends would also be coming over for a surprise tea party. It turned out to be such a lovely day that after I served Eliza and her dressed up friends tea, we went to the local park, then stopped by the chocolate shop. It was truly a special day. Here are some photos of my darling girl dancing with her friends at the little gym, then dressed up and with her friends for her tea party. Oh my darling, how wonderful these five years have been!

Oh what fun it is to be Mama to Elena

My parents are divorced but both are retired and some of the patterns that plagued them when they were together continue now that they're apart. My father often takes out his anger on my mother and my mother still relies on him sometimes to fix things. They have to deal with each other because of myself and my brother so my mother is often the victim of my father's bad moods.

However, lately my father has been in a very good mood and the reason why, my darling Elena. At just over 18 months, I'd have to say the Iceman would have to cometh to resist the charms of my little one. From birth, people have asked me, is she a good baby and I've had to answer a humble, very grateful and very emphatic "yes." When other people with a new baby would complain about the strain of a new little one I would nod understandably and say, "yes, so hard."

Like anyone, Elena has her moments but for the most part, this is a great, great, great kid. She loves to sleep, she loves to nap, she can spend a long time entertaining herself and she's happy pretty much anywhere. Sure, she gets fussy when she's not getting her own way, she can really wail when she really wants more milk. But then her thumb finds its way into her mouth and she's quiet, observant, adorable. I've never seen a kid with a better ability to entertain and comfort herself.

Last night, we went to dinner with my father and stepmother to celebrate my birthday. It was later than I like it to be, especially with my kids still on daylight savings time. I had to wait 15 minutes with my father which felt like a disaster waiting to happen. So I waited, and waited for that disaster but it never happened.

Elena happily stood in the doorway, greeting new entrants like a maitre D. She quieted herself with her thumb when I cut short her maitre -D act so people could get by. She sat happily in her high chair and didn't wail when I took away that oh so fun fork, that oh so shiny knife. I'd brought nothing for her to entertain herself with, no toy, no crayons, just a bottle. As long as that bottle was full of milk, and it was, she was happy.

It took a long time for our meals to come but Elena stayed happy. When I took the dipping sauce for her chicken fingers away(food allergy issues), she cried sadly, all for about two minutes. Then she turned to the ketchup and happied herself by dipping her finger in the ketchup and glossing her lips with it. When she lost interest in her meal and they'd just delivered ours, she turned around in her high chair and made goo goo eyes at the other patrons. When her sister, bored by the length of this dinner, chose to unbore herself by lavishing a little too much pinching and squeezing love on Elena, Elena grinned and gnawed on her own thumb. When the night's guitar playing folk singer, started his set, my happy toddler clapped excitedly and swayed back and forth in her high chair.

Finally, it was time to go and Elena came out of her high chair. Free to move around, she chose to stay where she was and slowly draw in the eye of every nearby patron with her smooth dance moves. A round of peekaboo followed, with Elena and patrons never tiring of her covering her face with her hands, then grinning with delight when she revealed herself. She looked so cute dancing with her tiny little body, pink flowered dress and sparkly pink sneakers. There are no words to describe how dear this little one truly is. My father and stepmother laughed at her dance moves, then my father scooped her up and bathed her with kisses. She is that kind of kid, you just can't help but love her with every cell on your body.

She is the quintessential youngest child, a comedian, an entertain, a beacon of light in an otherwise dark night. She is my love, my little darling, my baby, my sweet, my beloved, so beloved Lena Loo.

How did I get this lucky all over again?

Because of all the wonderful things she says

My mother calls Eliza the "little diplomat" because my darling, almost five-year-old is quite good at saying the right thing. For example, one night, my mother offered to watch Elena so I could take Eliza to a special dinner at Ihop. However, the dinner was far from special, Eliza complained of a stomach ache, we had to make repeated trips to the ladies room, she didn't even touch her pancakes. I'd dragged her away from the TV for our special dinner and she was anxious to return to her beloved Nick Jr. That's not the answer she gave me when I asked her why she'd been so anxious to leave Ihop.

"I missed Grandma so much and wanted to be with her," she said, smiling sweetly. It was a nice thing to say but as soon as we returned to my mother's, Eliza planted herself inches from the TV and truthfully didn't notice my mother was in the room.

I'm always posting cute things she says to me on Facebook but Facebook doesn't live forever. I'm not sure this blog will last forever here in cyberspace either but I have a better chance of reading my daughter's charming quotes here than on some fad that may be gone in ten years time.

One night, I looked at Eliza intently and said, "YOU make me happy."

Eliza returned my intent gaze and followed my intonation by replying "YOU make me love you."

The other night, I told Eliza how lovely she looked and she said, "Mama, you're beautiful. You're the most beautiful Mommy. I love you so much." In my sweats covered with Elena's snot, and my flat hair pressed unattractively to my face, I looked far from beautiful but there's my daughter, ever the diplomat.

When I was gone at work for a bit last month, she told my mother she wanted to get me flowers and make me a card. I came home to a lovely bouquet of store bought flowers courtesy of my mother and a card that said "Mama, I love you."

She can say some nasty stuff too. When we were having the horrific comb-outs during lice fest 2010 and I screeched in frustration when the nit I was aiming for disappeared as she turned her head she said something pretty nasty that I don't care to repeat. I walked away, saying "This is untrue and I don't deserve this."

And for a while, I stayed away from her, not to punish her but because I was hurt. She offered to do a time out and I told her she didn't have to, that it was more complicated than that. My feelings were hurt and it would take a while for me to feel better. She apologized profusely but I explained that sorry doesn't magically erase the hurt we feel.

She retreated into her playroom and returned with a hand made card. It had a heart with the word "Mama" written inside. I opened it to see a drawing of her and myself walking hand and hand through a field. Tears quickly streamed from my eyes. It felt like the greatest thing anyone has ever done for me. I hugged her tightly to me and told her I'd forgiven her, that I loved the card and I loved her more than words could ever express.

On that day, I also found myself so proud of her grand gesture. That a child that young could understand she'd done something hurtful and tried to repair it not with blank words but with action. It was truly beautiful.

But the other night, she said a real beaut, something I hope never to forget. As I pulled her blanket up to her chest and bent down for our last hug of the night, I dug my nose into her neck and said "You're my dream."

I used to sing to her as a child, "You're my dream, my dream realized." This phrase that I sometimes say to her is an offshoot of that song that I still feel so often when I look at both my girls.

She looked me in the eye and said, "You're my dream. I dreamed when I was in your tummy. A nice mama like you."

If I could open up a laptop and design my firstborn daughter exactly to my specifications, she would be my Eliza. I remember when I saw her face for the first time I said, "She looks exactly how I pictured her." Everyone about her is exactly what I could want in a daughter.

My dream realized, my girl, my love, my Eliza, Eliza P.

Summer Fun

What better after all this rain, then to look at memories of our happy summer. I love my girls so much! These top two were at a nearby water park and the bottom one was taken at a carnival. That's my brother to my left.

I really love you gal and I need you, my Lena Loo

I sing the above line (to the tune of Buddy Holly's "Peggy Sue") to my darling little Lena Loo all the time. Yes, my beautiful Elena has morphed into Lena Loo, a nickname both Eliza and I love to chant with a good deal of sport-inspired fist pumping. I often describe Lena Loo by saying I called central casting and asked for the perfect baby. She is a perpetual joy and I can't wax poetic on her enough.

Elena was evaluated for development delay in early July and their prognosis was yes, she was about three months behind but they believed she'd catch up. She has spent the two months since their diagnosis proving them right on the money. She took her first steps shortly after that and graduated to the path of the full-time walker by the end of July. She is now exploding with words and phrases, my favorite being "Brush teeth!" which she often says, trailing one of us into the bathroom. She is also a very enthusiastic eater, holding her hand out or straddling the legs of her high chair screeching "Eat!" when she's hungry. She's not so into healthy food which I find a little disappointing, but she goes nuts when you come into the room carrying a box of pizza.

Her body has changed, her legs lengthening and her tummy shrinking just a little. She still has the roundness of a baby and looks about three months younger than her 16 months, but she is beginning to look more and more like a sturdy-legged, happy toddler.

An old friend recently said of Lena, "she seems to have the laughing thing down." Blowing bubbles, funny noises, silly songs, tummy kisses, any of these things can elicit lovely little giggles from my Lena Loo.

And then on top of all this joy, this kid is still a fantastic sleeper. She still naps twice a day and sleeps through the night most nights. Eliza started Kindergarten this week and with it came my plan to get Elena down to one nap per day but now my work schedule might hinder this until the end of September.

In my world, I didn't get that feature I was up for which was a relief. The script supervisor on "White Collar" has had some family/work issues so I've kind of stepped in, kind of. They've offered me the final two episodes of the season but I'm trying to work out a schedule with the current scripty that we share the last three weeks. We seem to have worked out the next two weeks, leaving only the final week to schedule but it this works out, I'll grab enough work days to not enjoy some idle time in October. The long commute and leaving the kids with my mother isn't quite working out so I hope to spend the next few months really zeroing in on another way to earn money. I'm also planning to apply for a graduate program I won't get into--not that it would lead to a job but it would feel like I'm moving in a forward direction.

I've been working a lot lately but next week, I only work two days leaving me some time to enjoy the last of these fine warm days with my two girls and for that I am entirely grateful.

The Summer Fly Bys

Our beautiful summer is flying by way too fast. We've had a wonderful time but I'm sick that only two full weeks are left.

It's been a challenging summer and I haven't written because it's hard to make the time and I seem to have lost most of the readers who followed me here from my old Club Mom blog. But part of the reason for this blog is to remember all the wonderful times I've had with my girls so I'm making the time now.

After a particularly stressful two weeks, I had a lovely date with my Eliza two nights ago. My mom graciously agreed to babysit my little one so I could take Eliza to the boardwalk for rides and fireworks. Our relationship is different now and while I mourn the passing of what we used to be, I am enjoying all the wonderful things she has become. Last summer, when we were on rides together, she was the happiest kid in the world. When I looked at her the other night, I saw some reserve in her face. She is almost four but already she is forming her own mystery. This happens as a child grows and starts to form her identity. Suddenly the parent doesn't know everything about him and her.

We've been battling lice the past two weeks and it's been so stressful. In order to keep her lice free and to prevent it spreading if it's still not gone (I still find a pesky nit or two per day), I had her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She looked so beautiful to me, like a ballerina in training. The rides she chose made me nauseous but I grinned at her as we swerved around and she smiled back, then looked away sweetly. The stress of the lice, plus my working a lot past this summer, plus having a younger sister, plus missing her father--she has grown up a lot in the past year. I've leaned on her and expected so much, probably too much from her that she had to. Her face is so different with all her hair pulled back like that. She really looked so much like a little lady.

Shortly before the fireworks, I dragged her into the bathroom. We took stalls next to each other and I heard a woman outside telling her daughter to wait while she used the toilet. The girl came out of the toilet as Eliza and I entered and I thought this woman's method was probably a safer option, to wait while Eliza used the toilet and then to go in myself, having her wait right outside my door.

Feeling a bit disconnected from Eliza, I peeked under the stall to look at her feet. Her tiny, perfect little feet in their blue flip-flops with yellow and white daisies perched several inches from the floor. Somehow those little feet dangling above the floor charmed me, filled me with so much love that I wanted to reach over and grab her ankle as if somehow, with this gesture, I could stop time and keep her my little girl forever. Just from the ease of her feet, I could picture her happy little face. She was having a nice night and after the two weeks of combing out her hair and my descent into shrewville from the strain was washed away.

We were in a gift shop when the fireworks started, waiting in line to pay for four small plastic shells you can use to make necklaces. Eliza started to cry, not wanting to miss the fireworks. I assured her we'd come back for the shells later and she ran out onto the boardwalk, into the crowd. I had to struggle to keep up with her--I am not a runner in flip flops.

"Come on, Mom," she said as she looked back with out stopping. On the beach was a small stage several people sat on to watch the show and Eliza ran towards it. I was about to help her climb up when she hoisted herself up with no assistance in record time. I struggled to keep up. She sat down, I sat beside her and then she jumped onto my lap. But she didn't stay for long, instead standing to dance with the fireworks against the night sky.

I kept the radio down on the car ride home, expecting her to fall asleep. But she didn't, instead she looked at her shells and her mermaid doll on the way home and asked if I could return the mermaid's hair into a bun when we got home because she's broken the elastic.

I might be taking a job that will separate me from my girls for six weeks. I've managed to eke out a living by day playing but I'm dangerously close to losing my health insurance so I need this job and that's that. It will be difficult for my parents to fill in and I'm not sure how well it will work out but if this is what I have to do, then we all have no choice. I've been gone for two weeks--this is only four more weeks than that. But looking at the girls while they ate their grilled cheese sandwiches last night, I wanted to cry, wondering what it will do to them to have me gone for that long. I'll see them on weekends and might be able to see them for an hour or two during the week but still, I'm the mother and the father here, how do I do that to them?

Alone, with children

What can I say, it's tough times. I'm alone with these kids day in and day out and it's tough. Don't get me wrong--my mother is a big help and the woman that lives next door to her is a big help but it takes a village to raise children and two extra people who live a half hour away does not a village make.

I moved here to be closer to my family and to have help and I have it--more than I'd have in New York. My mother, for all her health problems is a big help but she is 72, on a shoe-boxed size host of medication and spends much of her time seated in a reclining blue chair sleeping.

I worked for two weeks in New York and my girls were cared for by my mother and Karinna. So I have help. For two weeks I got to be around other adults, have conversations and dinners with friends and feel empowered by the money that I earned. Then the job ends, I happily commute home, scoop up my two girls and return to my regular life of meal planning, cleaning, bathing, dressing, chauffering, grocery shopping, playdate hosting, the list goes on and on, right?

It's a bit of a blue period right now because I have done something to my ribs and I'm in a fair amount of pain. It seems that carrying the baby around is aggravating the right hand side of my body but there's no one here to help me cart her around. I've also had a sinus infection now for ten days that shows no signs of leaving the building. I was already on antibiotics this year and refuse to go on them again. I can say my sinuses did feel a little bit better yesterday and so far this morning I feel okay but I've had that feeling like it's going away a few days over the course of this ten-day-scourge and it always seems to come roaring back. It's exhausting and debilitating to have a body that produces this much snot.

And still there are diapers to be changed, children that must be lifted in and out of my deep bathtub, laundry that must be put away, chickens that must be cooked. I have taught Eliza how to dial 911 in case something happens to me but I'm not sure she'll really know what to do in that instance.

So for the moment, I feel very less of myself due to sickness and pain and I worry. I worry so much about being a lone, with children.

The Value of Good Health

We all take our health for granted. I'm certainly not alone in this. Last week, as they stuck me with an IV so I could have a routine colonoscopy, I realized how lucky I am that I'm healthy because I'm such a freak in any kind of health care facility, I don't think I could handle real illness.

I developed hives later that night that I tried to deny because I don't want to accept I might be allergic to anesthesia. What if I need anesthesia for some kind of health care reason in the near future? I could deny it all I wanted, in the end I had to take a benedryl and the itching stopped.

A week later, there's a lump on the top of my foot. I googled lump of top of foot and found various answers from routine swelling to cancer. I made an appointment with a podiatrist but I'm scared. Seems like motherhood coupled with my own mother's health issues has turned me into a complete hypochondriac.

I wasn't the least bit worried today with Elena's one year pediatrician appointment. No, my focus was primarily on myself. Then came the usual developmental questions and as I answered them, I could see the levity leave the room. No doctor, she's not saying "mama, dada or baba yet. She's not saying much of anything but she babbles." "No, she hasn't developed the pincer grasp yet, she kind of fists food into her mouth but it has improved greatly." "She just started standing up in her crib and has only taken a step or two with her walker."

Big deal, right? Kids develop at the their own rate, don't they. The doctor didn't seem to agree with me and suggested she be evaluated for developmental delay. As I'm the sister of an autistic brother, I admit to some paranoia in this area. I wish she were saying words but I've comforted myself with the fact that Eliza didn't speak at this age either. She had entire conversations with everyone, you just couldn't understand them.

I didn't take the information and the doctor thought it best to hold off on the MMR shot. As I put Elena into the car, convinced all is well with my baby, I became frustrated yet again with her inability to hold her own bottle. Eliza held her bottle at three months. Eliza stood up in her crib at five months. Eliza mastered her pincer grasp at nine months and was feeding herself with little assistance by a year. The only thing she wasn't doing was speaking intelligible words but what she was doing was reactive, conversational, interactive. Elena grins, she looks around, she babbles, sometimes she repeats the sounds we make.

I am not ready to have her evaluated as I think it's too early to diagnose her. I don't believe Billy could have been accurately diagnosed at this age though the "experts" would disagree. Tough shit, I know him, lived with him, experienced him. They didn't.

So I know Elena, live with her, experience her. What do I think? I'm so paranoid in this area, I feel that I've lost my objectivity. She is definitely behind Eliza in every capacity and not just by a few weeks.

I hope my foot is okay and I look at my gorgeous younger daughter and I tell myself, it doesn't really matter, I love her regardless of whatever flaws she might have.

But will everyone else?

Elena, the toddler years

Baby Elena officially turned one last week officially crossing me over from mother of one baby to mother of two small children. As with any milestone, the celebration is mildly bittersweet. I enjoyed all of last week with my girls, but I'm saddened by the passing of time. I had so much going on last week that I didn't have enough time to drink in the moment and just savor my girls. I hope to do that this week.

We started over the weekend with a party at Karinna's that included most of the kids who go there on a regular basis. They had a great day and I really enjoyed seeing these kids, that I've known closely for four years now, have fun. We had wonderful weather and the kids played outside for most of the party, foreshadowing what we all hope to be a wonderful summer.

On Sunday, I had to leave the girls with my mother and prepare for a routine colonoscopy by ingesting the lovely pills I now call Colon blow. What accompanies middle age and a family history of colon cancer are icky nights like that one that the less said about, the better. But I lost two days of last week between the prep and the aftermath of the anesthesia after the procedure. Apparently I'm allergic.

Life didn't get back to normal until Tuesday when I survived a job interview for a job that wouldn't pay me more than a babysitter. Then I had various errands, driving around it seemed forever followed by dinner, bed or Elena and then Eliza and I making mini-cupcakes together for her class to celebrate Elena's actual birthday the following day. I'm a bit of a neat freak and don't enjoy cooking with Eliza because of the mess but we had fun that night. After she went to bed, I was up until midnight, making the icing and decorating the dining room for our birthday celebration.

Elena's birthday was lovely, wonderful and very, very happy. It was low-key and yet still busy. When we arrived at Eliza's school for party time, I found Eliza's teacher waiting at the door for me. She helped me carry in the cupcakes, doughnuts and juice and I was greeted by 15 happy kids all waiting to celebrate my lovely little girl. Elena sat in one of the toddler chairs like a big girl and thoroughly enjoyed her cupcake and doughnut. Afterwards the kids swarmed around her, closing in on her like predators, patting her head, touching her arm, tugging her foot. Elena was a little freaked out but did not cry. The teacher ordered the kids back and then had led them in two songs they'd practiced just to sing to my daughter who totally loved the attention.

It really was a wonderful party for her. The rest of the afternoon was fairly normal with Eliza in ballet class and Elena enjoying her afternoon powernap. My mother brought over home made cavatellis, the traditional birthday dinner in our family. Elena loved the new food. Then my father and his wife and my friend Michelle came by for cup cakes and gift giving. Elena really seemed to enjoy her new toys, especially the Fisher Price retro TV/music box I gave her.

Everyone was having so much fun, I had to kick them out around nine so I could get my girls to bed. I didn't even get a chance to read Elena the new book I gotten her entitled "Good night Beach" but I knew I'd have plenty opportunities for that.

That opportunity came up on Thursday, a nice low-key day. Friday was a whirlwind with my suddenly working in New York two hours earlier than expected. I had to race up with Eliza who was scheduled to spend the weekend with her Dad. I had a great day at work on Friday, then enjoyed Saturday morning with a friend in the city. Then it was back to NJ, back to my mother's to pick up Elena who'd had a great time but seemed very happy to return to our happy home.

I hope more work is on the horizon now that "White Collar" is back to shooting. I might also be taking in a roommate to help us survive in this apartment this summer. All in all, I've no complaints and I'm really looking forward to what's ahead of us.

And now that she's a toddler, Elena is already starting to act like one, fighting back at bedtime by standing in her crib, screaming until I come to scoop her out. Just like that, my baby's one.

Christening Photo

Here we all are on Elena's big day. The extra girl is Isabel, my cousin and the daughter of Elena's godparents.

Baby Elena nears one

Having a baby is just about the loveliest thing in the world and pretty soon, I won't have a little baby anymore. Oh sure, the toddler years are even more fun and I am enjoying watching her personality unfold. But this year has flown by and now my last little baby, who will always be MY baby, won't be a baby anymore.

The sleepless nights and how the early days pass in a blur of feedings, changings and naps. Those beautiful moments when I strip her naked and trace the line of her chubby leg and just marvel at what my body created. The sheer perfection of her body and the delight her tummy, tushie and chubby, yummy legs incite. The new discoveries; the first smiles, push-ups, rolls, dragging forward on straight legs, thumbsucking, new tastes and new people to love her. I can't even pinpoint certain moments with Elena like I can with Eliza and this bothers me. I suppose this is true of the second child--the first is so new. I remember coming to get her after she spent a few hours at C's for the first time. She just kept smiling at me and I realized, oh, she's happy to see me. I don't remember the first time she waved but I can see her waving. Last week at Costco she pointed, copying Eliza but it wasn't the first time she pointed.

I don't remember the first time she finally crawled on bent legs instead of trying to move forward in a downward dog kind of position. I just know one day she learned to crawl for real. She now knows how to get from a crawling position to a seated position and she'll often drag a straight right leg when crawling to make getting onto her butt easier. I remember the first time she showed real excitement towards food, hurling herself forward in her high chair to get to a spoon of bananas. It was at my mother's house. I don't remember her first bath in the bathtub but I know now, how much fun she has flapping her arms up and down in front of her to splash.

She delights now in her little body, moving from one position to another. She loves toys and is very curious, wanting to open cabinets and doors. She gets a real thrill from banging on Eliza's piano and very clearly likes her father, however little he's been around. She loves my mother, craning her neck to watch her whenever she's in the room. I remember her excitedly crawling towards my mother and my mother had a friend over, too busy to notice. Elena got very upset and my mother had to stop what she was doing and pick her up.

I remember the first time Eliza spotted her on the living room floor, gnawing on a chocolate valentine heart still in it's wrapper. She cried real tears when I took it away from her, clearly enjoying this new and wonderful treat.

She loves to talk now and though she can't say words, she has long conversations with us, the TV and her toys. If I sing "boom boom boom" she makes a "bbb" sound. So she is trying to talk. She is a lovely, lovely, lovely little baby.

I guess I remember some stuff but it still doesn't seem like enough. It all goes by way too fast. I like the sleeplessness of the beginning because it has a way of making it all unfold in slow motion. Then the nights get longer, the sleep gets better and everything moves forward at warp speed. And I can only hold on and embrace what is happening because live everyone, I am unable to freeze this moment and make it last longer.

Oh my baby Elena, what a wonderful gift you are.

Elena's Big Day

So my little baby was baptized yesterday, April 11th 2010 just three weeks shy of her first birthday. We had an absolutely lovely day.

The weather was perfect, nearly 70 degrees. My cousin Jim, the godfather and his wife, godmother arrived the night before with two of their three kids. Eliza and her cousins enjoyed their first sleepover together in the playroom and surprised us parents by actually sleeping.

The day of the christening was special but I had everything pretty well organized. I ordered sandwiches from the excellent deli down the street and had my father pick up the cake and fruit platter from Wegman's. My only culinary contribution was a pear/arugula soup that had only partially defrosted but it quickly thawed on the stove and I threw it in the crock pot to heat while we were at the church.

Getting Elena ready was fun. Leslie brought the christening gown her godmother made for her daughter Isabel. It is a gorgeous long white gown that is fitted on top but flows down well past the feet. She looked like a fairy princess with a long trailing, train. Leslie had to put it on and it was a bit complex and Eliza and her cousins Daniel and Isabel helped. Then I made sure to get pictures of Elena with her godparents, cousins and sister. No good photo of Eliza in her christening gown exists as C was rushing me and bossing me around that day. This time, I relished the fact that he would arrive shortly before the church ceremony and the prep time would unfold without the stress of his commands. I do regret being so focused on getting photos of her with various people that I forgot to get one good photo of her alone in the dress. So every occasion carries it's own regrets.

When C arrived with his two kids, we took more photos and then walked to the church. We got there to find Aunt Carmie, my godmother, the only one there. Soon we were all assembled and we found we'd be the only family there that day which made the occasion solely ours.

Elena was her usual, mellow self. She was pretty tired at this point but she quietly sucked her thumb during most of the prayers. Daniel and Isabel, eager to help, became the Priest's assistants. Holding open the bible, Daniel became an integral part of the service. Leslie was every bit the doting, attentive godmother, unfastening Elena's gown so the priest could reach her neck and then refastening it at just the right moment. Leslie held her for the big moment when the water splashed her head. It was truly a lovely time.

A large group of us walked back to my place to enjoy the beautiful weather. I expected 29 people at my apartment, 26 showed up. I am a perfectionist and it wasn't perfect--the gallon of iced tea I'd made was gone in 15 minutes, I forgot to put serving spoons on the fruit platter, my father forgot to bring enough ice to fill the ice bucket. But it was still a wonderful day and considering I'd done it all with very little help, everything went smoothly. When I made the toast, celebrating my godmother, the fact that my mother is Jim's godmother and now he is my daughter's godfather, and Eliza's wonderful godmother Michelle, I really felt the warmth and love of everyone. C's family is annoying, as always, but it was wonderful to see his kids interact with Jim's kids. It was the kind of family gathering we used to have at my grandmother's and it was wonderful.

My grandparents have yet to see Elena, rotting away in an assisted living facility far, far away. It will cost me around 1,000 bucks to see them which is why I've not made the trip yet. But I miss them. One one table I put a bottle of wine from Abruzzi, my grandmother's native region of Italy. On the other table, I placed a bottle of wine from Calabria, my grandfather's homeland. This was my way of making them part of our day.

Congratulations Elena. I am blessed to have such a joyful, wonderful, beautiful little girl.

Rainy Days

I'm doing something unusual right now in the sense that I'm writing while both girls are in the room with me. It's been a tough day and I'm hoping right now that when it ends, I'll feel energized by the fact that we managed to have a good day. We don't have any real problems at the moment, no horrific stomach flus or injuries that would make today a really tough day. Just the typical, nasty rainy day blues.

Elena has been sick for over a month now. I don't know if it's one cold that will never leave her or a series of cold, one right after the other but Eliza has nicknamed her "Run Run." She's had an ocean of snot in various colors draining from her nose since late February. Two doctor visits and a 10 day antibiotic have helped, but not eliminated the problem. Throughout much of this, she has maintained her sunny disposition so that's helped me maintain my sanity.

Today she is protesting more than usual but right now she's calm and enjoying playing with Eliza's magic markers. Eliza and I did an arts and crafts project today, making ducks, flowers and Easter baskets from cut-out pieces of construction paper. The six ducks are now taped to the window over their blue construction paper pond. This little art project managed to keep Eliza pretty happy for close to two hours now. And the happiness continues for the moment as she happily names her little ducks "Sarah, Lara, Vonn and Tina." The poor little baby ducks are not only legless but apparently not worthy of names either but they don't seem to mind.

The playroom is a mess and Eliza just tramped on something and now screams like she's enduring an injection.

"I have to clean up this messy room," she screeches, then promptly sits down. Now she's back on her feet marching and the room remains a mess. I could push it, yes, but you should have heard the tongue lashing I got when I asked her to take her plate from the table to the counter. She spewed forth everything from "I don't wanna" to "You don't like me" to "I'm not a very nice girl." Never mind the fact that I tell her it would be very nice of her to clean up her plate, she'd much rather cry and hop on the poor self-esteem bandwagon by wallowing in the bad self-image that comes with selfishness instead of performing a simple act that might correct this poor picture of herself. Sometimes it's not worth the fight but I do find it interesting how early they learn to manipulate by claiming to feel unloved in order to get out of helping around the house.

It's 12:40 now so I'm less than halfway through this day that started with Eliza's bloody nose. As the baby cried, I stripped the bed and I have to say Eliza was very good about cleaning up her face and the bathroom door. I'd just gotten her bedding blood-free and back on her bed when I scooped Elena out of her crib and realized she'd apparently crapped during her nap. And oh yeah, that Huggie leaked.

So laundry machine's going (thank goodness I have one after 15 years of living in New York City and laundromats) Eliza just tossed a stuffed bear wearing an "I heart Israel" sweater at me and Elena tries to write on a plastic storage bin with a twistable crayon. It's all good here, right now, I swear. Tonight when I sit down to watch "Lost" that show better be worthy of the day I survived. It better be the best television episode that ever was, the kind of TV to rival "Who Shot JR" that people talk about for years to come.

But it won't be. Oh well.

Spring

I haven't written about my girls for a while so I'll start with something Eliza said in the bathtub last night. Both girls were bathing together and Eliza presses her little 4-year-old butt to Elena's 11month old butt and says "Look, we're touching tushies, like a tushie high-five." For the rest of the bath, she continued to roll her butt towards Elena's and say "High Five!"

It was a lovely, funny moment in a lifetime of funny moments. We enjoyed a wonderful spell of fine weather last week. Oh Elena's been sick with oceans of snot running down her face but we enjoyed a playground at the beach, the local playground at the lake, two get-togethers with Eliza's school friends and a picnic in the park that was crashed by a squirrel. Throughout her sickness, Elena has proven to be an absolute joy, the kind of baby one dreams of having but doesn't usually exist. When she spiked a fever, she was unsmiling and needy for all of 24 hours. But even now, as I type this, she is crawling on the floor happily playing with an empty snack bag (bad mama) and a plastic circle of fake peas or grapes or some kind of play food.

Eliza has grown more challenging. She wants constant attention and entertainment and for a single mother, this is difficult. I do not relish plopping her in front of the TV for hours (what do you think she's doing right now) but it has become necessary. She wants constant companionship and while she does seem quite capable of playing on her own, lately she has protested doing so. She misses the cutoff for Kindergarten here next year, a small detail that has filled me with a lot of anxiety. Could I afford New York, she'd be registered for Kindergarten next year. Because I can't, she is set to attend a local preK program that only lasts for 2 and a half hours a day. It will be her third year of preschool and a big step down for her but I've fought with both the local public school and even the privates on this issue and they won't budge. If they're going to stick to a date on the calendar so it's the allmighty, it shouldn't vary from state-to-state. It's a much harder pill to swallow when I know all I have to do is move back to NY and she'd start school when I think she should.

I even thought about relinquishing her to C but the thing is, he doesn't really want her. When I tried to talk to him about the subject, he simply said "That's the way it is" and didn't offer any guidance. I am glad he knows he's not capable of being a full-time anything, but I can't force a situation he does not want just so she'll start school on time. So instead I obsess about it and I'm thinking of moving to Connecticut where I also have family. But it's very expensive and I can't do it without a job.

So I've spent a lot of time looking and applying for jobs. Since I started my job search last fall I've only received two rejections and one confirmation that they received my application. That's it. I've applied for something like 50 jobs and this is all I have to show for it. Yes, it's disheartening, especially when I add that my savings runs out and I won't be able to stay in this apartment or any apartment when that happens. So I'm hoping to find a job before my savings runs out. I am growing less optimistic as the days pass.

But still my girls are lovely. Elena turns 11 months on Sunday! Only one more month before she hits a year! It is sad and wonderful at the same time. I will cry as I bid adieu to her babyhood but I know we have so many more wonderful moments and milestones together. This is only beginning.

John Edwards and Child Support

I'm going to take some time today to write about an issue that's important to me. Yesterday, I watched the ladies on "The View" talk about John Edwards and the baby he allegedly fathered with a woman outside his marriage. Barbara Walters said the woman, Reille Hunter, has kept the child out of the media spotlight and John Edwards supposedly has agreed to financially support them. Sherri broke in saying that Mr. Edwards only had a responsibility to support the child and Barbara Walters corrected her statement by saying he's agreed to support the child. So I guess even women think that a man who fathers child should only financially help the child and not the person who cares for the child.

Forget that John Edwards is married and that this woman should have known better. We have no idea what Mr. Edwards may have said to her in private. The one thing we do know, without a doubt, is that he's a liar.

I bring this up because I'm disappointed that a panel of women still think that men who have unprotected sex should only be obligated to support the child. It's this kind of thinking that has made child support such a ridiculously low amount of money. Yes, I'm a single mother so this is an issue that's very important to me.

Most women can't provide a home, food, clothes, health insurance and school costs on child support alone, unless the father has a sizable salary and is willing to pay above the mandated child support minimum. So most single mothers must work to supplement whatever support they receive from the father, and this is true if the parents are married or not. Alimony and money above child support have become optional as women are now seen as people able to earn an income.

However, what everyone seems to be ignoring is how hard it is to find and maintain work when caring for small children. If the woman is lucky enough to have a good career before she has children, as a single parent, she might find herself unable to keep up her workload without any help from a spouse or family member. Or if she's some one like me, the job that she had before having children may simply not be possible with children. And the idea that once the kids start school, the mom can work is also not accounting for the 50 hour work weeks many people put in now.

Should the child's mother not have health insurance, a home, the ability to care for herself so she can take care of this child? If people argue that some women may be "gold diggers" who use a child to get money from a wealthy man, I say it's the wealthy man's responsibility to protect that money, especially if he's married.

Judging by the women's response on "The View," only women with good, stable jobs who can afford to take care of themselves and provide a home for their children should have children. It seems like birth control and the right to work have served to make only women responsible for the children two people create. Men can go ahead and have sex with whoever they want without having to worry about consequences. Depending on where they live and how much money they make, they might only have to pay $300 bucks a month for that kid. And it doesn't matter if he's married to the mother because unless the couple is married for seven years or more, child support is all he might be required to pay.

Birth control and women's growing numbers in the work force should not serve as another excuse for men to act irresponsibly.

In terms of my own situation with C, many of my friends have asked if he's financially helping me and the answer is yes. I believe C is giving me more money than would be required of him by law. But it still barely covers our expenses and doesn't cover my rent at all. If C had custody of the kids, he would pay a babysitter more than the monthly check he cuts for me. Factor in the cost of school, food and doctor copayments, he'd easily be paying twice as much money per month to care for his kids if he had custody. Sure, he'd get the opportunity to live with them, but the kids would spend the majority of their time being shuffled from daycare to school.

But that's only my side of the story as as you know, it's his word against mine. Only the numbers are provable.

Here are the numbers in the state of New York. By law, for two children, the non-custodial parent is required to pay 25% of his take-home pay, minus any deductions for other child support to the custodial parent. Health insurance for the children, school and child care are suggested, but not required by law. The non-custodial parent must provide a home for himself but does he need 75% of his take home pay for this? But by law, 25% is all that is required for the care, feeding and housing of two children.

Mr. Edwards may be financially responsible for the rest of his life for an extramarital affair he chose to have. But Ms. Hunter, she's the one that has to get up in the middle of the night when the kid is sick or night potty training, she has to prepare and provide meals, take the kid to the doctor, drive the kid to and from soccer practice, tour schools, fill out the required paperwork, serve on the PTA, take the kid for new clothes and haircuts and dental appointments. When she has to work or get her own haircut or maybe even go to the doctor herself, she has to arrange for some one to be with her child. In fact for the next several years, she can't make any kind of plans without making sure some one is available to take care of her child. Is this massive responsibility worth nothing?

The rewards of motherhood are great and worth the responsibility Ms. Hunter will incur. However, please stop letting men off the hook so easily by saying a men should only pay for their children. Women typically still earn less than men and still do the majority of caring for aging parents. Two people create a child, two people have the ability to prevent a pregnancy from happening should they choose to have sex. I think asking men to financially help the women who care for their children is reasonable. After all, she is caring for this wonderful, living, breathing part of him.

Filet Mignon would be so nice

As much as I love both my daughters, let's face it the games a four-year-old plays can be so tedious. It seems that my daughter has been obsessed with food since birth; first the boob, then sweet potatoes, then a fish stew I couldn't shovel in her mouth fast enough, then chocolate ice cream and endless bottles of milk. I don't remember when I got her the first set of pretend food, I only know that from day one, it's been the favorite. Not the first set, most of which is gone, but any pretend food. Her Melissa and Doug ice cream set might be the all-time most played with toy and it doesn't even show signs of wear and tear. Chrissa's picnic lemonade set from the American Girl store easily gets more play than all of the dolls Eliza owns combined. It may have been the best $25 I've ever spent.

The only problem is Eliza wants to pour lemonade and play picnic constantly. I can't tell you how many thousands of pretend calories I've consumed slurping that lemonade. The set also contains little sandwiches and watermelon slices. Yesterday, when Eliza decided to play beach, naturally the picnic set got in on the act as well. No one goes to the beach without sandwiches and lemonade, right?

Tired of beach and the endless cups of lemonade, when Eliza opened her beach bag ready to offer me another "picnic snack" I requested filet mignon. This would stump her and hopefully end this endless waltz of slurpy mime chewing.

"les-ignon?" Eliza looked at me quizzically. "Is that another word for sandwich?"

I laughed and shook my head. "It's like steak," I said.

"I don't have steak,"Eliza said. "How about this yummy, delicious sandwich?"

"Sure," I said, probably sounding similar to a tire deflating. I long for spring and real picnics outside with both my girls. But for now, it's a carpet beach day and fake sandwiches with an endless pitcher of pink lemonade.

What to do when your baby falls

This was written in September of 2006 on my old blog at Club Mom. Since it still gets traffic, due to the title, I thought I'd move it over here. If you're not interested in this trip down memory lane, scan down for the latest photos of the girls.

Eliza fell off our bed yesterday. In the space of a second that felt like so much longer, I watched her fall from a seated position and slam against the hardwood floor. I was right next to her and still somehow I didn't stop it. The sight of her falling will be replayed in my mind in bright technicolor for years to come.

My bed is the one furniture item I brought with me when I moved in with C at six months pregnant. The bed was my special splurge after landing my first television series. On the day I bought the bed, I couldn't get two salespeople to wait on me, perhaps because I was dressed in overalls and looked about 12 years old. I bought luxurious sheets and basked in the comfort of my new, extra thick mattress, the kind that takes "deep pocket" sheets.

That thick mattress means this bed is a good six inches higher than a regular bed. So my little girl, clad only in a dirty diaper I was about to change, smashed her back and perhaps her head against the floor from the height of more than three feet.

Before the fall, I placed her on the bed while I rummaged through her dresser to get her pretty pink dress. Accented with curly, colored laces, I refer to this as her Senorita dress. But she didn't fall while I looked for the dress as I stood right beside her and probably could have prevented it. No, she was having so much fun on the bed, I climbed up there with her for some kisses and cuddles.

I'm not sure exactly what happened. I think as she crawled down the middle of the bed, she got a little tangled in the comfort and sat up to steady herself. But when she sat up, her back was too close to the edge of the bed. Panic stricken, I reached for her but it was too late. She was already on her downward descent. She fell, she screamed, she cried, I scooped her up. I held her against my hip, shushing in her ear, my head pounding because I had no idea what to do.

After a fall what do I look for? My own feeling was if I could calm her quickly, then it probably wasn't that serious. If she was really hurt, she'd cry for hours, right? She did calm down within a few minutes but what if this theory was wrong? Should I take her to the emergency room? Should I immediately put ice on the back of her head?

Unable to decide for myself, I called my mother who told me to call the doctor. My mother has turned into a bit of alarmist since Eliza was born and if I say anything about so much as a hangnail she wants me to call the doctor. The reason I hestitated to do this was Eliza's regular doctor is on vacation and one of the on-call doctors scared me a few months back when Eliza had a fever. Afraid the doctor would frighten me more, I balked at calling the office.

Instead I hung up with my mother and called my friend Meredith, the proud mother of six kids. She assured me that if Eliza seemed okay, she probably was, just watch her pupils, watch for vomiting and don't let her go to sleep. This posed a problem because it was now Eliza's naptime and her eyes drooped accordingly. I know about the no sleep after a head injury to avoid comas rule but I wasn't sure I should do that right now for my daughter. She'd had a rough morning, my gut told me she needed to sleep. How could I really keep her awake if she was determined to snooze and would keeping her awake be the right thing for her?

Meredith couldn't talk long (with six kids, who could?) so after we hung up, I called a friend who'd told me that her baby fell off her similar-sized bed. She told me the doctor just told her as long as the baby was conscious after the fall, she then should watch the baby for anything unsusal. The doctor also didn't encourage my friend to forego the kid's nap. Eliza was already asleep in my arms so I felt relieved that I wouldn't have to wake her. I did call the doctor and leave a message for the nurse to call me back. I held Eliza for a few more moments and then gently placed her in her crib.

When the nurse called back, she calmly told me what to look for. Reassured that her first words weren't "bring her to the emergency room immediately," I listened carefully to what she said.

So here's what you look for if your baby falls and hits his or her head:

Watch the baby's mobility and if there's a regression. For instance, if the baby was sitting up and suddenly can't sit up well, that's the sign of a problem. Watch his hand and leg movements to see if anything looks different. Repeated vomiting is the sign of trouble as is a noticable difference in the size of the baby's pupils. If one pupil looks bigger than the other, it's time to call the doctor.

She also said it was fine for the baby to sleep but I'd have to go in and stimulate her once an hour. Eliza didn't need to wake up and look at me, she simply needed to move, roll over, do something. It was around 10 am or so and the nurse encouraged me to do this until midnight.

Eliza ended up not taking her full nap but she woke up smiling and ready to play. Heartened by her happy mood, I felt the worst was behind me. We did have a nice day together, culminating in a wonderful trip to the playground. Eliza laughed so much in the swing, the only other person in the park, a woman with a baby, sat near us to watch. It wasn't until the evening that things got tough again. C's son came over and since he arrived about 20 minutes late, it threw off Eliza's schedule. I ended up not getting her dinner (steamed vegetables) on the table until 7:30 when I usually feed her around 6:45. After a long day with very little naptime, she didn't want to eat, she just wanted to go to sleep. I tried to get as much food in her before giving up and putting her down. C's son was set to sleep in our living room because his mother would be out late. So the three of us were stuck in the living room together with C tense about the Agassi/Bagdahtis tennis match and me determined to stay awake until midnight because I had to check on her. In some ways, it's great that C's been through all this before so he's not a worrier but often on nights like last night, I feel very alone. It's not that I don't trust C to look in on her every hour, it's just that with an intense tennis match going and his "Oh she's alright" attitude he might not think it necessary. So the TV blared, C's son talked loudly over the TV and I went in to check on my girl. At 8:50, she really gave me a fright, barely moving when I lightly patted her back repeatedly. It was a kiss on the cheek that caused her to stir. When I went in at 9:50, I could barely find her because she'd managed to completely flip so her head to face the other end of the crib. I realized this probably meant she was okay but I patted her anyway until she curled up more against the crib. And I kept this going until midnight, when finally I turned in. It's terrifying to love some one so much. The freaky, superstitious part of me feels like it could be regarded as sinful by some kind of otherworldly God. However, if that were the case than mothers everywhere could be regarded as sinners every day. And knowing that I'm not alone in this love, it comforts me.

Baby pix

My girls at the same age, guess which one is which.

More Xmas photos, see the portrait below

Here are two favorites.

the Xmas portrait

Maybe I'll make some new year cards with this one. Maybe. Eliza and Elena, December 2009, the year that was.

Should have named her Joia

Yes, I'm back in 2010. All it takes is a few comments to bring me back here to talk about me, myself and I. Or me and my two wonderful daughters. We are all sick here at chez Midlife Mama so I'm going to have to be brief tonight. But if you check in and read this, I promise to add a few photos of the girls over the next few days.

2009 ended well. We are enjoying life here in our new home and I managed to eke out a little bit of work on a new show called "White Collar." I'm still looking for a "real job," something a little closer to home but I'm grateful the TV work came in and allowed me to pay my rent for three months in a row without dipping into my savings. It's a good show to work on and I hope I can work on it some more when it resumes shooting some time in March.

My mother is doing okay, thanks to those who've asked. She's often watched my girls when I've worked and I have to say that she is never more my mother than when she is babysitting her granddaughters. I don't know that what I'm doing is good for her or safe for the girls but when I call her while I'm at work, it's one of the rare times I talk to my mother, the woman she was before all the health issues that have plagued her this past decade. I wish us all a healthier new decade but I'm grateful that if my mother had to get a brain tumor, at least she got one that could be removed.

My girls are my joy. Elena is eight months now and could easily win the title of "Happiest Baby on the Block." She is sitting up, managing to move about our apartment by dragging herself on her stomach with her arms and babbling up a storm. Her laugh is like the greatest love song I've ever heard. Her babyhood is flying by and sometimes I resent that I don't get to enjoy it without the interruption of another child.

But then Eliza is such a happy, flirty, musical, wiggling figure of a girl, I spend most days trying to hold onto that whirling, growing body as long as I can. I can't even begin to tell you how much fun we've had these past few months, starting with my birthday in early November and culminating in the best Christmas ever. Her birthday on November 21st was one of the best day's of my life. We had a birthday party for her class at a local kiddie gym then returned home for a surprise party made of of C, his kids, my family and two of Eliza's closest friends. My father bought a helium tank and filled Eliza's playroom with 50 balloons. Eliza entered her home to find paradise. She enjoyed her celebration so much, she said "I'm sad my birthday's over. I want more birthday." It made moving closer to my parents so worth it.

And now Eliza's at an age where she really enjoyed decorating the tree, the story of Santa and tearing into presents with the fervor of a shark in a feeding frenzy. Even Elena seemed energized by tearing into packages, her huge eyes blazing with a seeming understanding that yes, all this booty was being given to her. Eliza enjoyed the holidays so much, any scrooge that I've developed over the past few years evaporated and I was suddenly, joyfully vibrating with Christmas spirit. We didn't get to do half the things I'd wanted to do--a local Christmas show, the Nutcracker, singing songs with local carolers. But we did get to go to Storybook Land for their holiday light spectacular, bake a Waltz of the Snowflakes and Nutcracker cake, see the "Snow Queen" play in New York, spend time with my friend Julie and her family, and drive around various towns looking at Christmas decorations. Our holidays couldn't have been better.

But now I'm sick with a seemingly endless cold/sinus infection. It may be time to visit the doctor with this one. I'll try to update you all more in the coming weeks. Thank you to those who've checked in during this time. You truly do keep me going.

And now please, enjoy yourselves and I wish you all the very best and more in this new year.