Mama!

While I folded laundry, Elena made a discovery. She came running into the hallway saying, "Mama! Mama!" I met her in the hallway and she turned towards the living room. She took a few steps away from me and then looked back at me.

"Mama," she said, pointing towards the windows on the far side of the living room. Realizing she had something to show me, I followed.

I found this little exchange so charming. This is probably not the first time Elena has communicated, without words, that she has something she'd like me to see. But being that she's the second child, so many of the wonderful little things she does go unnoticed. Oh I remember the big stuff; the first night she slept alone in her bassinet instead of practically on top of me, her first word (Hi), the first steps she took on the tennis court at the park down the street. But the little stuff; the first time she smiled, the first time she sat up on her own, the first time she rolled over, even though they all happened more recently than Eliza's firsts, I don't remember them. It seems like the first 21 months of Elena's life have passed in a blur.

In fact, most days while Eliza's in school, Elena and I barely spend any time together. I am forcing myself to excercise so I do that while she plays in the playroom. Then I get sidelined by chores, phone calls, work-related activities. She and I hardly ever do things together where as with Eliza I hosted puppet shows, we went to the park constantly, I took 1,000 photos per week.

So today, I followed, excited to have this tiny interaction with her. I hoped that she wasn't going to show me another broken lamp. She toddled over to a shelf that holds several photographs, all of them including at least one of the three of us. She pointed to the only photo of me with both girls, her finger resting on me.

"Mama!" she said, grinning so broadly I thought her face might break. "Mama!" she said tapping the glass again.

The photo was taken sometime in the fall. It's from our back porch. I know it was taken after mid-August because we're sitting on an overturned canoe that belonged to my neighbor. On that day, she pulled up in her car and we waved down to her. She took out her camera and snapped the photo. I'm in the middle, the farthest from the camera. Elena is camera right, in the foreground, her hands on the bars of the porch. Eliza sits forward on my other side, grinning. I remember being so happy when my neighbor gave me the photo. There are very few photos of the three of us.

Elena was so happy with her ingenuity. She had recognized me in a photo. I'd like to say she recognized herself and her sister but she just kept pointing to me and smiling. There I was, her Mama, grinning unblinkingly from someplace else while I also stood beside her. I held up a photo taken six years ago of myself with baby Eliza but she didn't seem to recognize me. I tapped another photo of myself, cuddled against an actor for a show I worked on a long time ago. Elena didn't say anything, going back to the photo of the three of us and saying "Mama!"

I kissed her round, cottony cheek. My little Elena. I might not spend much time with her, but every now and then, we have a moment. It's not enough, I don't know that it's ever enough but it's going to have to do.

Happy, happy

"Happy" is the word Elena uses to start off her day each day. I hear her in the crib quietly saying singing "happy, happy" to herself. It's a derivative of the song happy birthday taught to her by a singing teddy bear. The singing Happy Birthday bear was a gift to Eliza for her first birthday from my close friend Meredith. Four years later, that same bear is teaching Eliza's little sister how to sing.

Happy is how we've been this week. Last week was a tough week and as of Saturday night, I decided this week would be a better week. Nothing particularly bad happened last week. There was another snowstorm but it was not nearly as bad as predicted and although we lost one day due to digging out, it did not impact us like the December 26th blizzard. I wasn't feeling great, a close friend went into the hospital last Tuesday and I interviewed for a job I really don't want. So I suppose those factors led to my bad mood. But mostly I just think I'm lonely. Starved for friends my own age. It's been one month straight of just me and the little girls. So I kicked off the pity party and let myself wallow in it a bit too long. Yelled at the kids, a bit too zealously. Didn't get enough sleep.

But then I decided enough was enough and we've had a good week so far. There is still enough snow outside to make it hard to walk around outside so we've been housebound. So Eliza helped make the soup on Sunday by peeling potatoes and carrots and mixing up the noodle dough. On Monday, my father and his wife stopped by for a bit and this did wonders to cheer up the little girls. Tuesday, Eliza went back to school and the past two days I've settled comfortably into my routine.

After I picked Eliza up at school yesterday, we stopped at Duncan Donuts on Ocean Avenue so I could get a gift card for Remy, my stepson who turns 14 on Friday. While the girls and I enjoyed donuts and hot chocolate, I noticed how huge the waves were across the street. The waves were so gigantic from all the current winter activity, it looked like they'd practically come into the donut shop. They were far enough away so I didn't feel unsafe but I've never been able to see ocean waves from inside the donut shop. They're usually blocked by the boardwalk and fence.

The girls and I went outside and crossed the street for a closer look. The waves came almost to the boardwalk. The girls ran down the boardwalk laughing and I realized, I've been driving past this ocean most days since Christmas vacation ended and I haven't stopped, not once, to look at the waves. As the girls enjoyed an unseasonably warm day by chasing each other in circles on the boardwalk, I savored the look, the sound, the smell of the beach in winter. There's still huge piles of snow along the beach. One pile is so high, kids have converted it into the equivalent of a black diamond for sledding. A temporary fence has been put up along a stretch to keep ocean avenue from flooding. But even with the weather, the bleakness, the snow, the beach is still so awesome. Watching the girls play, drinking them in, it made me so, happy, happy.

On to less happy thoughts--I may have landed this job I interviewed for. It's a good job and financially it will be a lifesaver but it will take me away from my girls for an extended period of time. I put the feelers out for babysitters and have some good candidates on the table, but I'm not sure where this will lead. I've been feeling happier because as time passed from the interview, I felt more comfortable that they've offered the job to some one else. But they called tonight and just left a message for me to call back. I don't plan to do it until tomorrow morning because I don't know what I want to say. I know I don't want it but then there's that voice in my head, not necessarily the one that's panicked about money, but the one that says, do you not want it because you're afraid of change? Change sometimes can be a good thing.

We'll see where this goes.

Exhausted

It's a new year, a time people often embrace with hope. We had a horrific snowstorm to close out the year that left me feeling a bit lost and not exactly hopeful. My life has always been about being as self-sufficient as I can be. I'm not the type to ask for directions and not the type to ask for help, even when I should. But nothing will bring you back to begging for help like the wallop of 36 inches of snow and 70mph winds that cause massive snow drifts, some more than seven feet high.

When I tell people we were trapped inside for more than 30 hours, other fellow storm survivors say "Yeah, we weren't plowed out until Tuesday." But no, I'm talking a five foot wall of snow pressed right up against my back door that made leaving that way impossible and a front door that's bolt was frozen shut.

Following the major snowfall on Sunday and early Monday, the day was so miserable and windy it's not like I wanted to go out anyway. From my front window, I could see a caterpillar going back and forth over the huge wall of snow that had formed across the street. The winds had created something I'd never seen before, a massive hill of snow stretching almost all the way down the block on one side of the street while on my side of the street, I could see the sidewalk. It looked like some kind of ominous wave. I'd never seen anything like it, the sight of that huge snow wave greeting me at 4am Monday morning still haunts me.

So with the caterpillar going back and forth, back and forth for several hours, on my block alone, I knew we weren't going anywhere no one was coming to us. But the hours ticked on by and still my front door wouldn't open. Trying to shovel down the wall of snow out the back door only succeeded in a huge pile of snow inside my house. The back porch and steps would have to be cleared from the outside but I couldn't get there.

I called my landlord who was in Florida, no real help. I spoke to the guy who'd been contracted to do snow removal, no real help. I saw some Mexicans walking down the street with shovels, I shouted out the window to them. They tried to pick at the block of ice that prevented my door from opening but they couldn't do it. I called the police who told me a lot of people were in my position and if the door was clear from snow, I could call them for help and they'd blast the door open. So I waited.

Around 7pm, the snow removal service arrived to clear a walkway in the building my landlord owns across the street. I hung a sign in the window for help, hoping they'd realize that even though my door looked clear, it wasn't. When I saw them packing up their truck to head home after probably a miserable day, I pounded on the window. They were able to pick through the ice and we were freed around 7:30pm. The business of freeing my car from a 10 foot wall of snow wouldn't happen until two days later. I used a sled to pull the two girls through town but with the mountains of snow on the corners, I often had to pull them onto the street. With Elena not exactly cooperative, just going two blocks was pretty scary.

Now more snow is looking this weekend and although the forecast so far is not severe, it could change on a dime. My parking space is still full of snow so I'm not sure where I'll park my car. My skylight in the bathroom and windows rattled so hard after the last snow, I'm not sure this apartment can really handle the winter that looms in front of us. I am responsible for driving my daughter to and from school on Friday. So I won't know where I can park until after I pick her up. I could decide to keep her home on Friday so I can park on one of the few slots on the street where the plows will hopefully leave me alone. The question of who will dig me out then hovers over my head.

It is all too much for a single woman with two young children. I am their sole provider. I have food and we won't starve. But if we lose power or there's an emergency, we really will be stuck inside. So I'm afraid. This is how 2011 starts for me. With fear.

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.