21+ months

Dearest Ruby,

The summer of 2013 was a fast and busy one. We spent weekends with Grandma and Grandpa and family, and weekends alone roaming around town, searching for fun. Trips to the local parks, the pool, and splash parks were fun for us both. Evening walks down the bike path near our house were never complete unless we brought along the bottle of bubble mix.

You changed and grew so much this summer that you are now, officially, a big kid. The only remnant of baby left in our lives is your crib. I had to pack away all your clothes sized in “months.” Now your drawers are filled with 2T clothes, and sadly, even some 3T winter clothes. I packed away your baby towels and wash cloths, baby hair clips and pony tail holders, shoes, coats, and yes, even your baby toys… all the rattles and teething rings are now at Grandma and Grandpa’s waiting for another visit from Tilden. I hope he doesn’t mind all the pink.

It has been hard for me to come to terms that you are now a “kid” as I loved the baby stages so very, very much. But each new day, you open my eyes to the wonder of “toddler.” You had tubes put in your ears in June, and after that your vocabulary and pronunciation has improved so much. You love to try out new words, and the letters roll around in your tongue and I will ask you to repeat a word until you’ve got it. And you know you’ve got it, because when the word rolls off your tongue as it should, you look up at me with big eyes and a big beaming smile, often you clap your hands and say “Yay!” We are still working on how to pronounce your last name. When I ask you to say it now, you babble incoherently and nod your head with conviction. It's tough, but we will get there...

You seem to become more active each day. You’ve loved to dance as long as you been able to stand on your own, and this summer you added jumping and climbing to your areas of expertise. When you jump, you first compose your body into a tiny, 28 pound squat, and then pop up off the floor with such exuberance everyone near you has to laugh. And that is so incredible to me – your love of making people laugh. You often unknowingly make people laugh because the many expressions of Ruby are distinctive and advanced from a child so young. Unfortunately, we can read your face like a book, much like my own, and I will tell you now that this not always a fun trait to carry as you get older.

When I pick you up from daycare each afternoon, you are often busy helping your teachers put away toys, and if you are outside playing on a nice day – often have a collection of rocks to show me. It’s a delight to me to hear your teachers say what a good girl you have been or that you are such a good helper. I know you are at home, but it makes me happy that you are a good girl with others too.

There has been a couple of “incident reports” at daycare in which you have bitten other kids. I know that this is a game to you and you are not doing it to hurt others, as shown one evening while I was brushing your teeth: you clamped down on my finger and would not let go. When I finally got you to release my finger from your teeth, and saw the red teeth marks and the throbbing, it panicked me that you would do that to another child. I scolded you rather sternly, and immediately the laughing smile you had on your face disappeared and you turned your head from me. I asked, “Do you understand? Biting is mean and it hurts!” You wouldn’t look at me or acknowledge me and then I noticed your chin was trembling. You were struggling not to cry. So, I gently said, “Ruby? Do you understand? Biting is wrong.” Overwhelmed with emotion, you busted into tears and buried your face into my chest with huge, heaving sobs. You wrapped your arms around my shoulders and I hugged you. I was quite shocked that you were so emotional, but I also realized that I have never really had to scold you too much before. I realized that you were sad that you disappointed me and hurt that I had scolded. I hugged you tighter (and remembering how it felt to be in your shoes) and told you that I wasn’t mad and that I loved you – and then, and only then, did you stop crying. You sat in my lap with your body shuddering from the leftover sobs and I wiped your cheeks. It was one of the most special, defining moments of my life as a mother so far. Your eyes were still shiny with unshed tears as you looked into my eyes, your nose was pink and running, I held your face in my hands and told you again that I loved you. You smiled shyly and wrapped your arms around my neck in a fierce hug and then jumped down, ready to go find some pajamas. To me, it felt like the earth has stopped turning for just a moment.

For as sweet as you generally are, you are equally busy, especially in social situations. You nearly bounce off the walls with all the visiting and exploring and figuring out you have to do. The more people involved, the busier you are. People often say, “And she’s not even 2!” To which I have to just shudder and roll my eyes. Your energy and enthusiasm often far exceed my own.

I have in my mind how I want to raise you, the kind of person I would like you to be. This motherhood deal is full of expectations, and then…. Reality hits. I have been working with you on your manners, saying “please” and “thank you” and saying prayers before meals and bedtime and picking up your toys when asked, and generally, things that make you a well-behaved kid. There haven’t been any major issues so far, as you are often the one to remind me to pray, and are always so good to pick up your toys. You have kind of knocked this “good girl” deal out of the park. The point was driven home when we were at Grandma and Grandpa’s last weekend. Grandma had handed you something and you paused and looked at her and said, “Thank you, honey!” You could have taken a dagger to the poor woman’s heart. I think she just moaned and clasped her hand to her chest and looked at me like, “How do you live with her sweetness every day?” I was amazed too. You said it so sweetly and innocently and the tears built up in my throat and I couldn’t really even say anything. I guess that’s what I mean about expectations and reality. I expect you to learn these things but the reality is that you not only learn but you embrace these things. Learning makes you happy—that is clear. But putting what you’ve learned to use, to be productive, to make someone happy—already that seems to give you joy. My mind used to be so full of the ideas of what I thought a daughter of mine would be like, what she would look like, say, or do… you have completely crumbled my ideas of “should.” The reality is… so, SO much better than I could have ever dreamed. I have you. I sometimes ask God how I got so lucky as to have you, the only and only Ruby Jean, in my life. I don't have the answer yet, but my goal is to raise you in a way that when you are 20 or 30 years old, you will ask God the same about me.

I know we will have some challenging days ahead as you gain more independence and inch even closer to the Terrible Twos and Tortuous Threes. But for now, for these moments, I treasure each one. Ruby, you are such a good-natured, sweet-hearted child and I am so proud and so overjoyed to call you my own.

All my love,

Mama

Coming to terms

This mom gig is tough. Damn tough some days. Today is one of those days that is damn tough and I feel like a collosal failure. Not because of Ruby, but because of what I can and can't do for Ruby.

These past 21 months (+33 week pregnancy), I guess I have had the notion that I would be able to protect my daughter from anything and everything dangerous, scary, or difficult. I know that as she gets older, it's good to have to face a little bit of those things because it will help her to learn, grow, cope, and otherwise teach her about the world. But she is 21 months old, and already I cannot protect her from everything I feel that I should be able to protect her from. This feeling is utterly terrifying to me... so terrifying I could curl up on a ball on the bathroom floor and vomit because the helplessness, fear, and anger at my incompetence/inability/lack of rights to protect her are gone. I feel completely and utterly incompetent. The incomptence and the knowledge I have about her safety (or lack thereof) pisses me off so completely that I have to numb out. I have to check out mentally, otherwise I'm sure my brain will implode.

As a mother, I've always felt that there were 3 main goals: 1) Love unconditionally and make sure they know it, 2) teach them the tools they will need to navigate this huge scary world, and 3) protect.

I realize now that I can't protect Ruby from everything dangerous or scary in the world, so I have to do my best to rock those first 2 items on that list. I know I have the first one down and I'm really going to have to work on that second item, because my inability to do the 3rd will call for all sorts of coping tools from Ruby. Luckily, Ruby has a mother who has been down some bumpy roads and has learned a great deal about what it takes to navigate this brutiful life.

Speaking of which, I really need to work on my own coping skills tonight. This realization that I can't protect Ruby 24/7 has hit me like a ton of bricks and literally knocked me to my knees. I need to remember to lean on God. To pray. To trust. To keep my eyes on the goal: raising a smart, well-adjusted girl who has the world by the tail. A girl who knows that no matter what, her mama has her back. Now and always.

Weekend goodness

This past Friday night I was burned out. It had been a rough week with work, with Ruby not feeling well, and me not feeling well. Of mounds of laundry and a filthy bathroom. A kitchen that never was cleaned to a point were it left my mind. At points like that, my head becomes so cloudy and grumpy that I just kind of stew in my own bad juices. To top it off, I was feeling particularly lonely and even a bit lost. Lonely because I haven't had a good connection with friends in a long while. And lost because I have decisions to make about my life, and I don't know what to do or where to turn, so I fail to make the decisions I need. It was not a pleasant week.

Both Saturday and Sunday, Ruby was supposed to go to her dad's. She would leave Saturday morning, come home Saturday night, and go back Sunday morning, come back Sunday night. Secretly, I was a bit relieved because I needed a break. For the past 2 weeks she had been suffering through teeth (2 year molars breaking through) which means she was particularly, whiney, clingy, grumpy, sleeping horribly, etc. Apparently she has been fine at daycare, but home with me, she insists on being held, will lay her head on my shoulder and whine. I can't blame the poor girl, but my nerves become fried after a few days. Admitting that I need a break can cause me fits of shame, embarrassment, and regret. No, I don't want to be away from my daughter. It's not that I want her to go away. If I could have someone come in my home, and deal with her (and have her willingly accept their help or comfort instead of Ruby snorting her contempt and proceed to raise her arms to me and howl), prepare meals, fold the laundry as I read a book or play blocks with Ruby, then great. Let's do that. But, we all know that that isn't how it works. So a tiny part of me was looking forward to having a little "me" time this weekend.

Saturday, after I dropped Ruby off, my awesome cousin and her daughter came to visit. We had a lovely visit and went out to lunch. I can't even explain what good she did my heart. Just being near her makes me feel loved. She's such a wonderful, bright and funny person. She's always been very dear to me... always will, I suspect. Her and her daughter's visit helped seal my heart from the horribly loneliness I was feeling the whole prior week. It was wonderful to see her and connect and it was wonderful to fill that numbing void. After she left, I ran a few errands and thought about going to a movie, but I was wiped. I'd missed quite a bit of sleep the prior week, so I went home and had a 2 hour nap. After that I ran a few more errands and picked up a little gift for Ruby (a stuffed dinosaur). I knew I had plenty of cleaning and laundry to do, but I had Sunday to take care of that. I picked up Ruby that evening and snuggled her as much as I could. She was pretty tired too, so we made it an early night.

Sunday morning, I woke to a notice on my phone that there would be no visitation for Ruby that day. Joy filled my heart but also a worry: how do I get all my housework done with Ruby there?

Ruby and I went to church and the sermon helped calm my worries about decisions I need to make. Prayer and God's word does so much to calm my fears. I need to remember this when I'm overwhelmed. When we got home, I got to work. Did 6 loads of laundry, made lunch and supper, made menu for the week, cleaned out the kitchen, cleaned the bathroom, changed the bedding, cleaned and organized the living room, played and read with Ruby, went for a walk with Ruby, made a Target shopping list, and bedtime routine for Ruby. It was a wonderfully productive day, even with Ruby there (and not feeling the best). I went to bed feeling tired, but the good tired, and prepared for the week ahead.

I kind of feel that my weekend wiped the slate clean from all the yuck of the previous week. It's funny what good friends, a clean house, and church can do for my mood. Oh, and Ruby too.

Oh, and the dinosaur I gave Ruby? It's this little turquoise dinosaur with some sparkly accents and huge eyes - it totally screamed "Ruby" to me. I gave it to her and she loved it! She hugged it and kissed it and I asked her to name it. She just looked blankly at me and I explained that it's a dinosaur. She giggled and it now it has the name, "Dino."

Breakthrough

This past weekend was tough. Ruby was grumpy and clingy and needy. I usually don't mind but when faced with this for 3 days straight (I took Monday off to be home with my ornery little girl), I get weary. Down-deep-in-the-bone tired. It's more than physical exhaustion (even though it's that also), it's a "what am I not giving you that you need from me? why is my unconditional love and undivided attention not enough?" I question myself and my ability to fulfill my daughter's needs, which is completely ridiculous, but after several nights of next-to-no sleep, I start to second guess myself. What it boils down to is that Ruby is teething. It's never pleasant, and the 2-year molars are proving to be extremely unpleasant. Poor child. So, I love on her and read books, and rock and soothe the best that I can, and when that fails, there is Tylenol.

Anyway, Monday I stayed home with Ruby because she was inconsolable and hadn't really slept for more than an hour at a time in 3 days, and was miserable. We both needed the time at home to hunker in and love on each other and just set things right in our little world.  So we did. By late Monday afternoon, my house was in shambles, so I knew Ruby was feeling better. There wasn't a book or toy that went untouched. When there wasn't an inch of living room floor that could be seen, I asked Ruby to help me start straightening up. She looked at me. She had such clear, understanding eyes. My brain mentally captured the moment and tucked it away. The evening wore on and we had supper and bath time and eventually the bedtime routine. During bath time, I dropped a bottle of body wash on my ingrown toenail. It hurt like crazy and I was annoyed and frustrated and completely exhausted, and I let myself cry for a moment. Yes, over dropping a bottle on my foot. Anyway, Ruby was in the bath tub, staring at me. At first she started to smile (I think she thought I was faking it) and then she became serious. I didn't want to scare her so I told her that mama is sad she had an owie. Ruby rubbed my arm and stared into my face, not even blinking. I pulled it together quickly and wiped my tears and smiled at Ruby and she smiled back. We carried on with our evening. As usual, I was talking to Ruby, explaining what we're doing and what happens next and she would pause to listen to me and look me directly in the eyes. Again, my brain captured these moments and filed them away.

This morning (Tuesday) Ruby had a doctor appointment, and before that, I ran a couple of errands, all the while talking to Ruby about what and where we were going next. I saw her studying my face in the rear-view mirror. Captured. Filed away.

When we finally arrived at daycare, I brought her to her classroom, where she dropped her head against my shoulder and curled against my side, her small hand gripping my shirt. I told her, "Ruby, have a super awesome day, be good. I love you and will see you tonight, ok?" I hugged and kissed her goodbye, she dropped her grip on my shirt, and I handed her off to her teacher.

In the car on the way to work, I realized that Ruby really listens and understands what I'm saying. Like, REALLY. I know experts always say that kids understand more than we think they do, and I believe that. Ruby has always been good to listen and obey and I know she understands, but I guess it hit me this morning that, yes, she REALLY understands. Her intent stare into my eyes when I explain something is her absorbing and understanding my words. But it's more than that. She's calculating my emotions and attitude as much as my words. It was quite a startling realization. One more way my little girl is growing up.

Tuesday morning

Today started off with a bang. Ruby woke up at 5:30 a.m. and so I brought her to bed with me because my alarm goes off at 6:20 and I cherish those last precious moments of sleep. While in bed with me, Ruby thrashed and turned and kicked and whined and chattered to me. I rolled over so that my back was to her and hopefully I wouldn't get clobbered in the face with her adorable little feet again, but she draped her body over my neck so that her head/hair were positioned to block off all airflow to my face. I could smell her saturated diaper, chose to ignore it, and just closed my eyes again, hoping to catch another half hour of sleep. Nope.

"Mama?"

I looked at the clock: 6:00 a.m. Ugh. "What?"

"Blicka aamdoc an Ca-ca (cracker)?" said Ruby.

"What? You want a cracker?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?" I said. Ruby's tummy usually takes a good hour or two to wake up after she does. She never wants breakfast right away in the morning. Thinking about the humongous bowl of chili she ate for supper the evening before, I couldn't believe that she woke up hungry.

"CA-CA!"

So, I found my glasses, turned on the light, found a diaper and wipes and changed her all the while Ruby chatting constantly. "Duice!" "Ca-ca!" "Duice!" "Ca-ca!"

I carried her, her blanket, an empty juice box, and my phone to the kitchen where I found some crackers and we went to living room to watch the morning news. She took 2 bites of her cracker and declared she was done. I asked her if she wanted something else, are you hungry?

"No!"

She proceeded to tear the living room apart - toys scattered everywhere, a basket of clean, unfolded laundry upturned, and finally a book. She brought the book to me to read, "Uppie? UPPIEEEEEE!"

So I read her the story. Around 6:30 I told her I had to take a shower and she thought that was fine, so she scooted off my lap and headed to the bathroom all the while chanting "Showa! Showa! SHOWAAAA!"

I took my shower but not without it's issues. Ruby wants to be able to see me, so she pulls the cloth (decorative) curtain back to see me but this also pulls the clear plastic shower curtain back too. Soon, Ruby, the foot stool, and the floor are covered with water. When I'm done with my shower and pull the shower curtains back, she shouts "DONE!" and hands me my bath towel. Then she turns back to her work of transporting a basket of nail polish from one drawer to the next, which she has been doing in between the shower curtain/checking on me routine. She grunts as she squats down to retrieve a polish that has rolled behind the toilet. I shut the drawers to the vanity so that I can stand in front of the mirror to get ready and Ruby howls. I have shut down all of her very important work. I open the drawer, take out the large basket of nail polish that she's been working with, and set it on the floor so she can continue to play.

Nope. It's just not the same and I should have known better. Soon, she's digging into other drawers and pulling things from here and putting it there and I find myself telling her she can't do the following:

Don't stick Q-tips in your ears.
Don't dump the Q-tips box on the floor.
Don't tear the Q-tips box.
Don't dump cotton balls out of the bag.
Don't use a cotton ball to wipe your nose and then put it back in the bag.
Don't open the nail polish.
Don't bang the nail polish on the bathtub.
Don't throw the cotton balls in the bathtub.
Don't throw the nail polish.
Don't open the drawer and smash my shins.
Don't push me out of your way.
Don't unravel all of the toilet paper.
Don't stick a Q-tip up your nose.
Don't dump the baby powder on the floor.
Don't throw the nail polish in the toilet.
Don't play in the toilet.
Don't whine when I tell you no!

I hurried my routine as best I could because it looked like a bomb had gone off in my bathroom and soon Ruby would get bored and find greater means of destruction.

So, I got dressed, I got Ruby dressed, and was gathering our things to head out the door when Ruby grabbed her coat.

"Yes, we need to bring your coat. Can you carry it? Mama's arms are full." I opened the door.

Ruby howled and stomped her feet. "On! On!"

"Ruby, it's around 70° outside. You don't need to wear your coat," I said as I glanced at the clock. Up an hour early, already running 5 minutes late.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!"

I sigh to myself. Ok. I drop the 3 bags and purse I was carry on my shoulder, I set my phone and a gift bag down to squat down to help Ruby put on her coat.
"Uh OH!" Ruby shouts and squats down so that she can help me pick up my bags.

"Ruby! It's ok. I'll get them, let's just get your coat on!" At this point all I can do is laugh because I feel like I've put in a 12 hour workday, and really, my day is only just beginning.

So, we get Ruby's coat on, I pick up my bags, gift, and phone and we FINALLY head out the door.

___________

The morning drive to daycare is like driving directly to the sun. Every single morning it shines in our faces all the way to daycare, and every single morning Ruby gets angry that the sun is shining and she has to squint or turn her head away. Today, she howled, shook her fist and said, "NO! NO!" to the sun... Oh, they're going to have fun with her at daycare today!

Arriving at work feels like a mini-vacation! :) But darn it if I don't already miss my headstrong little Bean.

Let's do this

The first weekend in August, Ruby and I went on a family camping trip. My Mom's side of the family had planned this last summer and reserved a group campsite at a beautiful spot. I was so excited for this camping trip and so filled with anxiety.

Excited for the obvious reasons - a weekend away with some of the greatest people ever. Outside time. Lots of it. Ruby. Sunshine. Campfires. S'mores. What's not to love?

Anxious because Ruby is such a light sleeper - and we planned to tent it. Challenging to say the least. Did I pack all that I needed? Would my car get us there and back, safely? What do I do with Ruby when I have to use the bathroom? Eat? Change clothes? She's a busy girl. Also, I need to be honest, I was afraid of the swimming/lake scenario. I haven't been in a swimsuit in over 2 years. Probably over 3 years. I've gained weight, lost, been pregnant, gained, lost, and gained some more weight since I was last in a swimsuit and, well, my current situation is not pretty. So, a normal person might say "Why put on a swimsuit then?"

Well, this is why: I want my daughter to learn from me. Not learn how to be overweight, but learn how to love herself no matter her size (or the texture of her hair, or her GPA). I want her to know that she is perfectly wonderful exactly as she is, each moment. (She will not be beautiful only when she loses 20 pounds - she's beautiful now. She won't be perfect when she gets a 4.0 in college, she's perfect right now). I want to experience life with my daughter and not have my size or imperfections (plentiful as they may be) to hinder her childhood. I wanted to take her swimming in the lake and build sandcastles with her and I didn't want to ask one of my little cousins to teach her or experience that with her. I wanted to experience that with her. I wanted to teach her that, "Hey! Look! Mama is happy and confident and having fun, no matter what she looks like. No matter what other's may think."

So, I did... I tell you what. I was quivering inside. I was so uncomfortable and nervous showing my lily white legs and I could have crawled into a hole and never come out. But I saw the delight and curiosity in Ruby's face as we walked into the water. It was there. That thing I wanted to experience with her, I saw it in her face.  I mentally threw my self-consciousness away, but by that point it was rather easy. I focused on my girl and the things she was learning and experiencing and I was delighted to be there with her each step of the way. And it was soooooo worth it.

I've seen pictures from that day. Uff. I don't look so pretty. But my daughter does. She looks lovely and happy and I was there with her, looking pretty happy myself. It was so worth it.

I need to get to a point where I take such good care of myself, that my weight or looks don't become an issue like that again. I so badly want to get there... I have a lot of work to do.

In addition to teaching Ruby to love herself no matter what, I want to teach her to be healthy. So, I have to become healthy. Each day it's a choice, and it's one I keep forgetting I have. I have to consciously work on this because there's so much more I want to experience with her...

Gone are the days

Gone are the days of...

sleeping in.
"winging" meals.
long, hot showers.
shaving my legs completely.
worrying about anyone's boogers but my own.
movies late into the night.
nights out dancing and drinking with my girlfriends.
blasting the tunes with windows down while driving.
a full night's rest.
dates.
high heels.
2 hours at the gym.
stain-less clothes.
a 3 pound (or less) purse.
quick trips to the store.
anything spontaneous.
worrying about anything other than what to wear.
cereal for breakfast, cereal for lunch, cereal for supper.
"letting" laundry go another day.

Motherhood strips life of a lot (see above). But it's all superficial, meaningless things (except maybe those cruises with windows down and music blasting - they are sometimes therapeutic).

................

But... I have gained so much more from motherhood than I could have ever comprehended. Meaning. Value. Life.

I remember a few years ago, I would dread weekends. The span of time with which I didn't know what to fill my life with something that gave me worth. My job gave me immense satisfaction - I was good at what I did and I took a lot of pride in that... but that was only Monday through Friday. Saturday and Sunday I felt lost. I filled my time with a lot of empty, meaningless and often inappropriate things. That all changed when I had Ruby.

My life is so full of goodness and meaning and love now. I still enjoy my job, but I get anxious for 5:00 p.m. The count down begins after my lunch hour... and I wait and wait for 5:00 so that I can rush to get my girl. Granted, there are days that I'm exhausted or stressed to the bone and the work and laundry are piled so high that I would rather put myself in a Dorito-coma than do anything productive. But mostly, I think of things I can do to be productive and get/keep my home in shape and spend some quality time with Ruby in the evenings. I love my time with her more than anything. When she's gone to her dad's, I clean, do laundry, shop, organize, primp and pick at our home. I want things to be nice and comfy when she gets home. It is an absolute labor of love, this taking care of our home. It is Ruby's home and I want her to love it and find comfort and security in it. In taking care of it, I love it even more myself, even though it sometimes feels gross to be there when she's not there. Mostly, I want to get those chores out of the way so that when Ruby is home again, the time I have with her is ours.

This weekend, my dad hugged me and told me how special Ruby is. I agreed. He said that she's done so much for me, she really saved me from myself. I couldn't agree more.

So, while I don't often have completely-shaved legs, I haven't been to a movie in months, it's not terribly convenient to wear high-heels anymore, and maybe more than twice I've unknowingly gone to work with goobers on my shirt, I have something/someone that gives purpose and GOBS of love to each day. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. AND Sunday.

I love being a mother more than I ever dreamed I would. My love for my daughter is bigger than any combination of words I could dream up.

I am so incredibly blessed.