Cuddle Time

Lately, we've fallen back into some old bad habits that have Brigid in bed with Steve and I at some point most nights. We'd gotten better about having her sleep in her own bed for awhile (mostly because we included sleeping in her own bed for the entire night on her behavioral chart, and she really wanted to earn all of the stars she needed to get the Elsa ice castle she was promised for good behavior...), but it has started to get out of control again. Every night, at some point in the bedtime process, she tells one of us, 'but I wanted you to cuddle with me for the WHOLE night!'

And the problem that we keep running into? It's that I really have no problem doing just that.

See, I know the day is going to come where she sleeps in her own bed. I know that there will come a time when cuddles with mommy don't hold quite the same charm for her that they do right at this moment. And when that day comes? I will be devastated. So, for now, I don't fight her as much as I should when she asks to sleep with us. I don't make the effort to walk her back to bed when she comes to me in the middle of the night to ask if she's been in her own bed long enough. Because when she sleeps with us? I wake up to a little arm thrown across my neck, or a small hand resting on my cheek, or the smell of baby shampoo and coconut conditioner coming from the head resting on my shoulder. And at those times, I wish there was a way to capture the feeling, the actual physical touch, of a moment, because when these moments happen, I know there will be no way to recreate them down the road, and I want, more than anything, to remember the feeling of that sweet girl snuggling with me every morning.

Even if I DO have to fight her for the blankets every night.

Getting Settled

I am now making my way through my second week as a work-from-home mom, and although I'm no longer going into the office these days, I still haven't transitioned to my new part-time position, as my boss asked me to stay as full-time as I could until the end of August, to fully support my replacement.

So that's what I am doing.

It has been a process, trying to develop a new schedule that can accommodate everything I need to get done in any given day. But even though I still feel a little all over the place sometimes, since there is still SO! MUCH! TO! DO!, I haven't been this happy in a long time. I like being home with the girls, I like keeping my house somewhat organized during the week, I like grocery shopping and running errands instead of being in the office. I even like the work I do when I'm at home and my girls are right there in the next room. It turns out, whatever stress inducing elements might still be in my life, I can handle them much, much better when I'm spending my days with two of my most favorite people in the whole world.

In the Tent

Brigid (who I swear went from 4 to 14 overnight at some point, and who I will never allow to sleep again out of fear that she'll age another 10 years on me...) wanted me to take a picture of her and her American Girl doll in their new matching pajamas, with their equally matching pink hair. Even though you can't actually see her pink hair in the pictures, I assure you, it was PINK.

And then, I noticed Caitlin...

Seriously. That is just so...Caitlin. I love that kid and all of her goofy ways.

Family Time

The smallest room in the house happens to be the only room in the house with doors that can contain the wild beast we lovingly refer to as Caitlin (when she's not pulling everything out of every cabinet or off of every shelf within her reach), and it also happens to be the room in the house where we've shoved all of the toys. So of course, it's going to be the room we all tend to congregate in when we're looking for a little bit of hassle-free togetherness.

Did I mention it's also my favorite room in the house?

(Ok, fine. My favorite room in the house is the sunroom, because it has comfy chairs, pretty views, and a fireplace. But the playroom is a close second...)

Brigid Says...

Last week, in one of the nightly battles during our ongoing fight to get Brigid to sleep in her own bed, she came into our room around 2AM to tell me that she was scared. When I asked if she needed me to walk her back to her room, she said yes. About halfway down the hall, I realized she wasn't with me anymore. I went back to my room to find that she had waited for me to get out of bed, before climbing into my spot and going back to sleep.

Brigid spends most of her days lately pretending to be Princess Elsa from Frozen, creating imaginary snowstorms and ice skating rinks around the house. She runs from us in mock concern, crying 'Stay away! Don't touch me! I don't want to hurt you!', which is what Elsa says in the movie when she thinks her freezing powers are getting out of control. In the middle of one of these adventures a few days ago, Steve had the audacity to ask Brigid if she thought Elsa tooted icicles, to which Brigid replied with some heavy scorn, 'NO! Because she's a princess, and princesses DON'T TOOT!'

After school one day, Brigid told me, 'Mommy, I really need hot chocolate right now. For my head. My head hurts. So I need hot chocolate. With marshmallows.' Totally sounds legit, right? My argument that her head hurt because she just doesn't sleep through the night, EVER, was judged to be completely incorrect, and hot chocolate won the day.

For St. Patrick's Day, Steve made corned beef and cabbage, and we told Brigid it was chicken, because the only way we can get her to eat ANYTHING is to tell her that it's chicken. She loved it, but she wouldn't stop talking about the 'pink chicken' we'd eaten for dinner. All I could think about was how we were going to get a standing reputation as the salmonella house when she decided to tell her teachers about it the next time she was at school.

First Day of School! First Day of School!

One of the best things about finally getting the housing situation settled is that Brigid is, once again, officially enrolled in school. The preschool that we'd chosen, the one where I'd felt so lucky to land the last available spot in the three-day-a-week class for her, the one that I was so afraid we were going to lose when closing fell through, agreed to hold our spot in December while we tried to get everything worked out. It may have taken us a week longer than we'd originally anticipated, but on Monday, we dropped her off in her new classroom for the first time.

There were tears on the drive in, mostly because I think Brigid was nervous about meeting new teachers and classmates, but once the teachers got her settled into a seat, and she realized she had access to an entirely new set of toys, she calmed down quickly. She even found time to sass Steve when he asked if she needed him to show her how to put together some kind of connecting/building toy on the table in front of her...'No, daddy. We had these at my OLD school.'

Duh.

By the time I picked her up at the end of the day, she couldn't wait for Steve's mom to drop her off again on Wednesday morning. 'I can't wait to show Grandma my classroom. She's going to LOVE it!'

And in true 'my children are trying to drive me crazy' fashion, Caitlin took a longer nap than she had at any point the previous weekend, when I needed her to sleep so I could work on unpacking, which meant I had to wake her up when it came time to pick Brigid up from school.

Because of course she did...

Turd.

(She's lucky she sleeps with her butt up in the air like that, because I find it adorable, and it's the only reason I'm keeping her around this week.)

Four

In four short years, we've gone from this...

...to this...

...to this...

...to this...

...to this.

This kid. She is rotten and overly dramatic and sassy as hell. She fights with me when I ask her to do something that she doesn't want to do. She tells me she doesn't want to clean up her messes because it will be 'too hard' for her to do by herself, even though she had no problem making the mess all on her own. She asks for things over and over again, even after I tell her no. 'Trust me, mommy, I really want a treat!' she'll tell me, not quite getting that I don't doubt she wants whatever it is that she's asking for, but this still doesn't mean she's going to get it. She won't share her toys with her sister. 'This is really super tiny, mommy, I should probably keep it away from Baby Caitlin,' she'll say sweetly, completely disregarding the fact that she was playing with the exact same toy at the exact same age, no matter what I've told her. She ends up in more time-outs than I'd care to admit, following complete meltdowns after I've told her something as mean as 'no, you CAN'T have dinner right now because I haven't made dinner, yet, so you'll have to wait until it is finished. Also, it is only 4PM. Why didn't you eat lunch, you fool?'

I am really very terrible, obviously.

But she also tells me she loves me, completely unprompted. She throws herself into my arms when she's incredibly excited to see me and gives me the biggest bear-hug she can muster. She's named her scooter 'Pasta' because that's what she was eating at the time she was trying to name it. 'I'm going to go ride Pasta, ok mommy?' She gets the biggest, brightest smile on her face when she sees her baby sister in the morning. She talks about all of her friends from school, about the 'new Mia' in her class, which is a different Mia than the 'Mia from her old class'. She loves the new Mia, apparently. She also loves her next-door neighbor Bennett, but for the record, she doesn't want to move in with him anymore because she would miss her mommy and daddy.

She likes to feed the dogs, and help me empty out the dishwasher, and pair her clean socks to be put away. She wants to read to her sister before bed. She loves to find leaves when she's outside to bring back into the house to give to Steve and I. I have a plastic bracelet that I wear every day because she told me to put it on and 'keep it forever and ever.' Who am I to argue with that?

She helps me pick out my lipstick in the morning when I'm getting ready for work. Her preference runs along the pink and shiny side of the spectrum, but I can get a little red out of her every once in awhile.

She is smart and sweet and thoughtful and stubborn and funny and better than anything I could have ever imagined having in my life. She is my Brigid, my favorite Brigid in the whole wide world, and I love her with all of my heart, and then some.

Happy birthday, sweet pea. Thank you for being you.

Remember to Remember

There is this episode of The Office, when Jim and Pam finally get married, where the two of them decide they will celebrate the weekend by taking mental pictures of every moment of the event they want to remember forever. It's awkward, it's sweet, it's totally fitting for those two characters, and it has absolutely stuck with me over the years, as I've watched my girls start to grow up. I find myself rocking Caitlin to sleep, thinking, 'This. This feeling right here is what I want to remember about my baby forever.' 

The thing is, I know I had these moments with Brigid, too. And I know that the only reason I can remember the feelings I had when I was holding her at any one point in time is because I wrote them down somewhere. This space, right  here? It is my photo album full of mental pictures. And so...

Things I never want to forget about Caitlin at nine months:

* the way she rests her hand on my chest or cheek, or even grips my shirt collar, when I'm rocking her to sleep.

* the way her face lights up when someone she loves walks into the room (I've often said nobody else in this world will ever get as excited to hear my voice as she does...)

* the way her face crumples when you tell her no, only to turn into the world's biggest smile when you pick her up to comfort her while she cries.

* the way she reaches for me when I go to pick her up from wherever she might be sitting.

* the way she follows me around the room with her eyes when she's waiting for me to come talk to her after I get home from work.

* the way she curls up into a little ball on her side, when I put her to sleep in her crib.

* the way she leans herself out of my arms, to snuggle with Brigid when we pick B up from school.

* the way she smiles and drops her head in shyness, or looks to Steve and I for approval, when a stranger talks to her while we're out running errands.

My sweet, adorable, manipulative little turd. She really is the best...

Bed Hog

Steve was off on an out-of-town three day work trip earlier this week, and Brigid managed to find the silver lining behind missing him by telling me several times during her bedtime routine that the big bed was just my bed, since daddy wasn't home, then sidling into my room while I was trying to work at 9:30PM to weasel her way into sleeping with me.

For my own good, of course. I'm sure she just didn't want me to get lonely.

Of course, Tuesday night, she slept RIGHT NEXT TO ME, with her legs draped across my body, following me around the bed in her sleep when I tried to put some distance between us, before waking me up at 3AM to tell me she didn't want to cuddle with me anymore, like it had been my idea to have her sleep on top of me all night.
She looks like she feels bad about the whole thing, doesn't she?

I want to remember these days when they share a bathroom as teenagers...

When Steve and I finally decided that we were ready to try for a second child, one of our main concerns was how our darling first child was going to react to the news that she wouldn't be the only baby of the family anymore. I mean, after all, Brigid is...

Well, Brigid is spoiled, if I'm being completely honest. She was not only our first kid, but she was also the first niece AND the first grandkid on BOTH SIDES OF THE FAMILY. And we all tell her that she is beautiful and funny and smart, and she is just generally adored wherever she goes. She was the center of attention for the first three years of her life, because that's just how things go when you're the only one in the room who isn't old enough to understand what the word 'no' means, yet. Almost anything she wanted, she got.
So, yeah. I don't think I was wrong in wondering how well she was going to respond to sharing everyone's attention with someone else.

Except...

Well, I was wrong, I guess. Because Brigid has been absolutely the most wonderful big sister we could have hoped for. She is completely in love with her baby sister, and I am completely in love with the two of them together.

The other morning, Caitlin was in her exersaucer when Brigid went downstairs. I stood on the landing above them, watching as Brigid went to her sister, said 'good morning baby baby', kissed her on top of the head, then kept shaking toys in front of her face to try to make her smile. She's never more excited than when Caitlin smiles at her.


She is constantly hugging the baby, or patting the baby's head, or kissing the baby's foot, or grabbing the baby's hand while telling me how much she loves the baby and how much the baby loves her, too.

She helps us bathe Caitlin at night, and she's just so gentle when she takes the washcloth to rinse Caitlin's hair, I would buy her all of the ponies in the world, if I could. Because...yes. She deserves them all.

I don't doubt that we have some rough times ahead of us. There have been several gifts of toys and books that Brigid has taken to her own room to hold onto 'until Baby Caitlin is older...cause she's too tiny to play with these right now'. What happens when Baby Caitlin isn't too tiny to play with the presents she's given remains to be seen. What happens when Brigid becomes a teenager, and hanging out with her little sister isn't a top priority anymore also remains to be seen. And, yeah, it could start getting ugly.

But, when that happens, I will show them these pictures. I will tell them the stories about just how sweet they were to each other when they were younger. I will remind them that at one point in time, nothing made them happier than hanging out together.

And if all of that fails?

I will make them stand in the front yard and hug each other, for all of the neighbors to see, like my dad made my sister and I do when he got tired of our fighting.

So...you know. At least I'll be entertained either way...

This kid...

This is the kid that sticks her tongue out at us and blows a raspberry every time we tell her to do something she doesn't want to do.

This is the kid that told me on Monday, when I was taking her upstairs for her nap, that she didn't like me very much, but that she'd like me more when she woke up.

This is the kid that was told she needed to eat her lunch first, but that she could take the cookies that came with her lunch home with her in the car, only to respond, 'I don't think that sounds like a very good idea.'

This is the kid whose main method of negotiation is to just repeat 'BUT I WANT IT!' over and over and over again, in the hopes that you will finally give her whatever toy/piece of candy/block of television time it is that she wants.
This is also the kid that told us, when I finally got home to her and Steve last night, 'I'm so happy everyone is home!'

And the one that has started to refer to 'her baby' (as she's been calling her soon-to-arrive baby sister) as Caitlin, because that is the name she likes the best.

And the one that, every once in awhile, will bust out with the sweetest 'I love you mommy (or daddy)' that you've ever heard, completely out of nowhere.

What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that we won't be selling her to the gypsies any time soon.

(But also that I haven't COMPLETELY ruled out the prospect, because, seriously, if I have to have the conversation one more time about how YOU SHOULDN'T LIKE POOPING IN YOUR PANTS, YOU WEIRD LITTLE THING, I'd like to have my options open...)

Three Years

When I wrote, last year, about Brigid turning two, I was told that I would just absolutely love the year ahead of me, because two was really an amazing age.

And wouldn't you know it? It was, and I did.

I went from being concerned that Brigid would NEVER EVER IN HER ENTIRE LIFE WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?!?! learn to talk, to wondering just what I needed to do to make her stop talking for one minute. Just one, that's all I need.

I still haven't figured it out, so if you have the answers, please, help a lady out, ok? Also, do you know the answer to the question why? Because I don't, anymore, and it's really something I need to learn.

I know all of the jokes about the Terrible Twos, but honestly, I didn't experience that, at all. Yes, she can be trying when she won't stop asking why we're doing something over and over (and over and over and over and over) again. Yes, she needs to learn that 'I want to watch my tv, RIGHT NOW' is maybe not the best way to get mommy and daddy to agree to letting her watch ANOTHER episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Doc McStuffins instead of the football game that we're trying to watch instead. Yes, I'd appreciate it if she'd stop chucking hairbrushes at my head every night, when it comes time to brush her hair after her bath.

 

And yes, I really, REALLY wish that she'd stop crying for her daddy every single time I tell her she needs to do something that she doesn't want to do.

But I also wouldn't give up those moments of unsolicited 'I love you, mom-mom' declarations, or having her offer up a hug and kiss for no reason, or hearing her tell me, 'You have on a pretty dress/skirt/necklace/bracelet today, mommy' when I see her in the mornings or after work. Because those are the moments when I want to buy her all of the ponies in the world for being the most perfectly amazing daughter in the entire world.

 

I can't tell you how many times this past year, Steve or I would look at Brigid after a dinner out, a shopping trip, a visit to see friends, or a parade/zoo/festival type of day trip, just to tell her, 'you know what, B? you're kind of the best kid there ever was.'

 

Because she is.

And now, she's three. And things are about to get REAL crazy around our house, as Brigid has to transition from being the center of our whole world to sharing that spotlight just a bit with a new little sister. And, I think she is going to be an amazing big sister, when the time comes, because she's already told people that when the baby comes, I'm going to be around to help her take care of it.

 

I know things are going to get...interesting...for awhile, as we all try to figure out how things work in our lives with two kids around instead of one, but I honestly can't WAIT to see what new wrinkle in Brigid's personality emerges over the next year. I love watching her grow and change into the person that she is meant to be, and every time I think that I can't possibly love her any more than I do at one particular moment, I find out that I'm wrong.

 

I don't know how much bigger my heart can be expected to grow, how much more love it can hold, but I know Brigid is going to continue pushing that limit every day of her life.

She is stubborn. She is so full of attitude already that I don't even want to THINK about what might be in store for me ten years down the road. She doesn't listen to ANYTHING that Steve and I ask her to do, EVER.

 

If I tell her to clean up her mess? 'No, YOU do it."

 

She is smarter than she has any right to be at three years old, and she is already figuring out how to play Steve and I perfectly to get her way.

 

She's already kissed her first boy, for crying out loud!!

 

But...

 

She's also the sweetest kid in the world. She gets so excited over the smallest things, up to and including the time I glued the top of an acorn back to the nut after she was upset that it fell apart. She is funny. She's a performer. If she gets a laugh out of you when she does something, she's going to keep doing it. She has the Notre Dame fight song memorized, and she WILL sing it on command.

 

She is my favorite person in the whole entire world.

 

Happy birthday, Bug! I love you with all of my heart...

Fresh Start

After all of the drama of last week, I think our family needed something fun to kind of reset the mindset around the house. And what better way to do that than to eat a LOT of apple pie?

I mean, uh, go apple picking?

(THEN eat a lot of apple pie. And apple fritters. And drink apple cider.)
I don't think we're entirely all back to normal, yet (at least, I kind of HOPE we're not all back to normal, yet, because if Brigid's new normal is asking for daddy nonstop when daddy is not available, and crying when she realizes that she can't see him, then I foresee A LOT of stress in my future...), but I think we're getting closer.

And, if not?

Well, then at least I have pie.

(And vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce, of course. Stress requires the big guns, after all...)

Baby's First Fireworks

We were supposed to have fireworks for our town's birthday about a month ago, but it got called due to rain. So, when we had our 'Taste Of' festival this weekend, they decided to do the fireworks then, instead. And Brigid LOVED them...
For about the first minute and a half, anyway, then she got bored and wanted to spend the rest of the time running up and down the sidewalk instead of watching the sky.

But that minute and a half was TOTALLY worth it...

First Day of School

We took Brigid to preschool for the first time this morning.

We walked into the classroom, she held onto my purse straps for 30 seconds, Steve asked her if she wanted to go play with the toys...

...and off she went. We barely got good-bye hugs out of her before she became too busy to deal with us anymore.

And just like that, she's too cool for her parents, now. It was a good (almost) three year run we had there with her, I guess.
Kids, man.

(Seriously, I am glad there was no drama in the preschool process...she went in, she loved it, we left her there for three hours. It was much less painful than I thought it would be. Of course, that didn't stop me from weeping to Steve as we got back to the car about how 'Brigid didn't know we were leaving! In ten minutes, she's going to look for us and realize we're gone and OH MY BABY!! She's going to be so upset!'

To which Steve replied, 'Honey? She knew we were leaving. She's just OK with it.'

Oh, fine. Whatever. She had fun. My ego is bruised. Everyone is happy. THE END.)

A few more...

(I forgot to include these in my list of current Brigid-isms yesterday. And heaven forbid I ever forget them, because then I won't be able to tease her mercilessly for them at some point in the future. And that's what parenting memories are all about, right?)

My legs not working.

Translation: I don't want to do whatever it is that you want me to do, I'd rather just roll around on the floor and whine right now. But if you offer me ice cream or a cookie? It might just fix my legs...

--------------------------------------------

Lay here with me a couple while.

Wait a couple while.

Me want to play in here a couple while.

This one is probably mostly my fault, because I think it's HILARIOUS that she combines 'a couple minutes' and 'a little while' into one phrase, and I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE TO CORRECT HER. Ever.

And really, who could blame me?

And, I officially have a new favorite picture...

Yes, I've said this before. And yes, I know it is a complete cliche.

But I don't care.

When, exactly, did my baby become this little person, again?

Because I don't remember giving her permission to grow up this quickly...

(Oh, yeah...and big thanks to my brother-in-law for the awesome picture!)

Summer Fun

Do you know what the best part of having Brigid around is?

When we make s'mores, and they're really, really messy, and she gets tired of having marshmallow and chocolate all over her face, I can TOTALLY eat the rest of hers, along with the one I made for myself, and nobody looks at me funny.



Sometimes, kid, I think those sleepless nights might actually be worth it...

Scenes from Spring...

Between trips to the neighborhood pool and popsicles on the back porch, I think it's safe to say we've bypassed spring and jetted straight into summer...
 

Toddler Talk

Have you ever had a conversation with a two-year old? If you haven't, I highly recommend you find the nearest one you can and strike up a conversation, immediately. Because it. is. awesome.

Brigid, man...she has all of these thoughts and ideas and opinions. And she can articulate them now, which just amazes me beyond all else. I mean, I knew her when she was a little blob of baby! Where in the world did my blob go?!?! And why on earth did she leave me with this kid that's capable of talking back to me, now?!?!

She knows we think it's cute when she says ho-ye guacamo-ye, so she does it on demand. She catches it every time mommy says something that shouldn't be said, and she (obviously) repeats it the minute it's out of my mouth, evil little glint in her eye and smile on her face, included. She uses reasoning on me when I tell her I'm tired, and I need to go to bed in my own bed, with a you be all right in my bed, mommy. And I WOULD be all right in her bed, if it comes right down to it, which she knows, of course.

When I tried to put her to bed despite her thoughts that she should be allowed to stay up all hours of the night, and I told her I loved her? She responded with, what I'm assuming is the first of many, given how rotten I was as a teenaged girl, a me no yove you. Which would have been heartbreaking, if it hadn't been coming from the funny little mouth of a sulking toddler.

I swear, EVERYTHING is funnier coming out of the mouth of a sulking toddler.

She's told me she needs to go potty, better hurry mommy!, while going potty down her leg. She's also told me she needs to go potty just to score a jelly bean for her efforts. She mispronounces chalk in a way that makes me giggle EVERY SINGLE TIME SHE SAYS IT, because I am more 12 year old boy than 32 year old woman on most days. She gets really excited when I open the cheese drawer in the refrigerator, because daddy buy me white cheese!, never mind the fact that we only have string cheese in the house because I demanded a trip to Costco last week to replenish the poor child's cheese stock.

But, you know...whatever, Brigid.

Beyond that, and obvious daddy bias aside, I genuinely enjoy talking to that kid. She is smart and funny and just generally entertaining as hell, and I am luckier than any one person has a right to be that I get to go home to her everyday.

Whether she thinks she yoves me right now, or not...