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.