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.