Civil Unrest

The bedtime battlefield is tense. We are involved in a standoff and neither side is budging. E's heels are figuratively dug in (and literally: she keeps balking like a Grand Canyon donkey every time we try to walk her to the bed). A and I are constantly strategizing into the wee hours of the morning (mostly because sometimes it takes the girl more than an hour to stop shrieking and submit to sleep). We have already tried the following battle tactics:
-cry it out (goes without saying that our girl's got lungs that won't quit)
-lying with her until she falls asleep (when I was having to set an alarm to wake myself or A up to move to our bed, we gave up on that one)
-story reading (we don't have enough books to keep up with her)
-bedtime massage (NO LOTION MAMA!!)
-begging & pleading (E is impervious to our tears)
Needless to say, surrender is imminent. A is currently threading the white T-shirt onto the broom handle. It seems that the enemy has a secret weapon, code named: Terrible Twos! I have heard from a reliable source that the age of three is sometimes worse (dear God, how?!) than two. If anyone on the Parental side of the conflict has insider information or other "last stand" battle tactics - for the love of God, hand them over! Our forces are losing hope.

"Oh heavy lightness..."

So, I haven’t posted in several days. Things have been in a weird state of perpetual suspension here. I feel like I’ve lived a month in the past 4 days. Strangely, it’s only Wednesday but I feel older - tired somehow from a race I wasn't aware I am running. The days stretched longer and longer in my mind due to the looming numbers on the calendar and, Isabelle’s birthday was upon us. How does one celebrate what is supposed to be such a happy event in the midst of overwhelming sorrow? There was no big announcement or any “memorial” event. Simply, A and I went to the church and prayed. We left some flowers in the same spot where we left our baby girl last year. It's a strange feeling, having a child die. As Shakespeare put it, "Oh heavy lightness, serious vanity. Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms." - it is a balance of feeling: paralyzing sorrow that my daughter is not with me, paired with the unbelievable joy that she's with God and our family. The hole in my heart isn’t closing. Somtimes it's huge and engulfing, other times it's a pinprick. I'm getting better at protecting it from bursting open. “Time heals all wounds” they say. (Who are “they” anyway? And why do “they” seem to know everything? Personally, I think “they” are full of it.) I don’t think that adage is true. I think I’ve just learned, with time, which remembering will cause crippling pain and which is bearable. So, risking a tidal wave of grief in my already holey heart, I say – Happy Birthday, Izzie. We miss you.

Emma update

So, this afternoon Emma informed Andy and I that she wanted to move to Florida, NOW! This was after breakfast this morning when she had slapped her jean purse (compliments of Aunt Leanne) over the shoulder of her footed pajamas, walked to the door to the garage, and shot us this phrase, "By hon, I'm going to school. See you later!" Quite a funny thing for a 2+ year old to say, considering the fact that she screams bloody-murder whenever we leave her alone too soon at bedtime.

Her new favorite phrase is, "I don't know". For anyone who has see Bill Cosby's stand-up comedy, this is a phrase that will strike fear and surge anger through any parent's veins. Today we asked her, "What do you want for breakfast?" Her response? "I don't know." Then we asked, "Why did you take off your pants and pull-up? (right as we're trying to leave so they can show the house)?" Her response..."I don't know." We asked, "Want to go outside and play?" E's answer, "I don't know." Question: "Why are you flailing your arms and screaming after I just handed you M&Ms?" You guessed it, "I don't know." As you can see...infuriatingly simple.

As a 30 lb. psychological mastermind, Emma is diabolically cunning. I believe it is a requirement for making it to age 3 that you are able to bring an adult to tears with such tactics as:

• the sock and shoe removal before any impending car trip
• the "one more kiss" routine at any impending sleep situation
• the lap-around-the-car routine any time we're running late
• the insistence on "one more minute" at the end of a movie

These are just a few of the seemingly innocent things of which Emma is capable. Oh yes, don't let her fool you, she looks like an angel. From what I've heard, she acts like an angel for everyone else too. I guess the reassuring part is that - she's normal! All of my friends swear that they're little ones act(ed) the same way at 3.

However, she is smart and perfect and beautiful. This morning she told me, completely unprompted, "I love you, Mama. You're my Mama." That's the kind of thing that softens the edges of the little dictator's steel-toed boots.

just when you think you're a bad parent...

Andy and I were just watching the news here in Fayetteville on Channel 7 and we saw something that I hope to never see again. I also wish that none of you will have to experience it.
The news station played a snippet of video of a father helping his daughter pull a loose tooth. HOWEVER this man needs to be sent a strongly worded letter! Are you ready?
He tied his daughter's tooth to, not a doorknob, but - wait for it - A BOW AND ARROW! He then shot said tethered-tooth ACROSS THE ROOM while someone else videotaped it standing in front of them!
This raises 2 questions for me:
#1 Who thinks "My daughter is scared to pull her tooth. I will help her by bringing a deadly weapon into the room, attaching it to part of her body and shooting said weapon"?
#2 Who thinks "This is a great idea! While my friend ties his kid to a bow and arrow, I'll get a video camera, stand in front of him and tape the entire thing. Fabulous!"
Who are these people? and WHY would you ever think this is a good idea? I will think twice about berating myself for giving Emma a time-out when she throws her toys because at least I'm not attaching her body parts to weaponry.

Pant Rant & Post-Easter Purge

This title applies in two ways. I've eaten so much over this weekend, that I wish I could purge up the calories. (Damn the jar of M&M's at the shower, right Leanne?) Also, it's been so long since I've been able to post that I have a lot to say.

Pant Rant: What the heck is wrong with America's Children's retailers? All I wanted was a plain pair of khaki capris and a pair of denim capris. Is that so difficult? APPARENTLY IT IS. All of the denim I've seen has some type of embroidery or lacing. I don't want butterflies or flowers or shooting stars emblaizoned across my 2 year old's rear. Neither do I want to pay $40+ for a plain pair of pants that will be demolished by the dirt-pit that is E's daycare playground. (No, Mom, I haven't been to Kohl's!) Not to mention that toddlers are not preteens. There is no reason to have phrases like "tasty" or "more naughty than nice" logo-ed on T-shirts. They're growing up too fast as it is, why start the trashiness before the ripe old age of 5?

Also, why is it that when one decides to move, the move and not personal intrinsic motivation, is what motivates us to change/improve/clean our own homes they way they should be to begin with? My house looks fabulous - and we're not even completely finished preparing for having the house shown. Of course, something must break when you are preparing for a move. This afternoon, our stereo system made a loud popping noise and now it will not work at all, no matter what we're trying to do: radio, movie, CD. Brilliant. I guess we can go ahead and pack it up. By the time we get it fixed, it will be time to move. Keep your fingers crossed that that's the last major item that breaks on us.

We're moving along down the move-to-another-state path. The house goes on the market next week and I'm slowly but surely getting my resume finished and ready to send out. I told Emma we were moving today and she said. "OK, Mama. I will take a trip with you and Daddy." I guess that's as close as we're gonna get. Good luck to all of us.