Best.Christmas.Ever

Christmas this year was absolutely amazing. It started the Friday beforehand, when I left work early, finished errands, loaded the car, picked up Ruby, and bee-lined for M&Ds... I could hardly wait for a break from work, a break from the ordinary... Friday evening, my cousin and dear friend, Jessica, came to visit for a belated birthday celebration. It was so, so, so good to visit with her. She always makes me laugh and has a way of making me reminisce as well as sit gratefully in the present.

Saturday, Mom, Ruby, and I baked Christmas cookies. Rather, Mom baked the cookies, I frosted, and Ruby sprinkled and smashed and ate. It was really fun, but oh boy, does the sugar get to Ruby! Yikes... Later that afternoon, M&D, Ruby, and I went to visit my aunt and uncle. My aunt had been dealing with some health issues recently and we wanted to check and let her know we've been thinking of her. Luckily, my cousin and her husband were there visiting too, so we had an awesome visit and my aunt looked good and was in good spirits. From there, we headed to Pizza Hut in TRF for supper and after the excitement of the visit (and my aunt's kitties) (and cookies), Ruby was nearly bouncing off the roof. We got home later that evening, which was far past Ruby's bedtime, but it was worth it.

Sunday, the four of us headed to my nephew's Christmas program at church. We try to make it each year and it was fun as it always is. However, from going to bed too late the evening before and getting up too early that morning, Ruby threw a bit of a fit during the program and I had to haul her out. It was a bit embarrassing and I felt bad for the parents whose program was interrupted because of Ruby's shrieks... but I guess it happens.

We went home, had lunch, Ruby napped, and then that afternoon, we headed to Oak Park's children's Christmas program. It's amazing how many kids are in that church again. MORE than when I was a kid! It is amazing and so wonderful. The program was great and those little ones are amazing, remembering all their Bible verses. I love church Christmas programs more than almost anything else at Christmas... after all, we are hearing and celebrating the reason for Christmas, and that's what it's all about, right?

After the service, there was a supper and many of my extended family were there, as well as friends and neighbors I've known my whole life. It was fun and as I was visiting, Ruby was running and playing with the other little kids. She was flying high. She is so much more social than I EVER have been, that it's surprising to me, but refreshing. One little boy was very smitten with Ruby. He was hugging her and following her and touching her the whole time. She got rather annoyed by being constantly tugged on and gave him a good shove, but I quickly reminded her that she can't behave like that. It was hard not to laugh, but also panic built. It's beginning already. The boys. I need to find a shotgun already, I think.

Monday, Mom had gone to work and Dad had gone to run errands. Ruby and stayed at M&D's house and tried to help Mom prepare for Christmas as much as I could. It was a nice to have a quiet day as the previous several weeks had been crazy with Christmas preparations as well as daily life (which can sometimes be chaotic). And the following couple of days would also be busy, so I relished my yoga pants and pony tail.

Tuesday afternoon, my brothers and their families began to arrive. We usually open gifts on Christmas Eve, and my Mom had planned an early pizza party/Jesus' birthday party supper so we could open gifts earlier with so many little ones and early bedtimes. After supper, we sat to open gifts, which was fun, as always, but a bit surprising. I was surprised at how well Ruby behaved! She did great. She was busy, like usual, but once she opened a gift with books, she was done. She sat in the corner and looked at her new books and didn't care about the rest of the presents that needed opening. Cute, but surprising! Ruby and I received so many nice things... but what I love most was the love in the room. My family laughing and smiling and joking around... That is the absolute best part of it all. For many years, there wasn't much of that at all. I'm so grateful we've found our happy again. Late that night, long after the little ones were gone to bed, one by one we went to bed also. Travis and family went home because they do their own family's Christmas on Christmas morning but they planned to come back for dinner.

Christmas morning, Ruby and I planned to go to church. I thought we were going alone, but Trent, and Thor and his family ended up going also. I was overjoyed to be going to church on Christmas morning - I love the story and the carols and, well, Ruby wasn't so cooperative. She squirmed, wiggled, threw things, crumpled paper, and finally threw a full-on-fit so that I had to leave the room. I was annoyed but I knew she was overwhelmed and exhausted. So, in the nursery, she curled into my shoulder and I rocked with her as I could hear the pastor's sermon through the speakers. For as annoyed as I was 5 or 10 minutes earlier when Ruby started flipping out, those few minutes in the nursery were balm to my heart. It was difficult not to cry, I just felt so much gratitude and joy.

After a huge ham dinner at M&Ds that afternoon, and after Ruby's nap, I bundled her up and took her out to go sledding and look at the animals (she has had a real fascination with "Papa's cows" and "Papa's horses" lately). Soon after, my Dad and brothers, and Tesa too, came out to join the fun. We took turns pulling the girls around the yard in a sled, and Thor made a snow angel. After some work, Dad got the 4-wheeler and big sled going and gave the girls a ride in the big sled around the yard. By then, they were half froze, so I brought them in as Dad and the brothers took turns giving Cody and Brett rides in the sled. Inside, Ruby and Tesa had races on their bouncing "horses" - which totally look like donkeys. They bounced and giggled and tipped over and laughed some more. It was so awesome. Little Tilden was checking it out, but I suspect he knew being within 10 feet of those girls posed a hazard to his health so he found other things (like the Christmas tree) to occupy him.

That evening, after everyone had gone home, and I was in our room, giving Ruby her final snuggles before bed, I started to cry. Huge, gulping sobs and I couldn't pull myself together. Ruby cupped my face in her sweet little hands and kept asking, "Ok, Mama?" I tried to reassure her, but I still couldn't stop crying. Finally I got her to bed, and went to the kitchen. Mom noticed I had been crying and had asked what was wrong. I could see the concern and worry all over her face and I'm sure thought I had gotten a bad message or news... but all I could get out over the tear-gripped throat was, "I'm just so grateful." The waterworks started again. I was so overwhelmingly grateful and a tiny bit sad. Grateful for the progress my family has made these last few years; grateful for my bushy-haired, lovebug daughter; for having the time with them and the love and kindness between us; for our Savior; for all of it. It's all I could think of for the last 2 days -- how blessed we are, even when we don't remember or feel it. And I was sad because all the time with my family and the celebration of Christmas was already over. That Ruby's second Christmas was all done. Already!! I miss my family terrible sometimes, they are some of the most wonderful people... I didn't want my time with them - the celebration - to be over yet. It felt like it had just begun.

Life is so incredible, when you think about it. For several years, I dreaded Christmas. I loved it, but I still dreaded it. It was always a reminder of what I didn't have. I didn't have a home of my very own. I didn't have a spouse or anyone special to share it with. I didn't have the family that I wanted so badly. The holidays just hurt me. I put up my Christmas tree in my apartment and there was no one to share it with. It made me bitter and sad. Now, with Ruby, none of the other stuff matters. I have her. I still don't have a spouse or a home to call my own... but it doesn't matter to me anymore... For weeks prior to Christmas, I tried to explain to her different things about Christmas. The tree, Santa Claus, the spirit of it, but mostly about Jesus. He's why we celebrate. All the years of hurting and dreading Christmas were made worth it the morning a week or so before Christmas when Ruby and I were snuggling in bed, and Ruby started to whisper/sing, "Happy birt-day, Jesus." Oh, everything I have been through--the heartaches, worries, sickness, all the yuck--has been made absolutely worth every sleepless night and every tear because I have Ruby.

Best. Christmas. Ever.



 

Christmas thoughts

It’s finally December. Christmas is right around the corner and I love Christmas. I always have, but I love it even more now that I have Ruby in my life (I actually love everything more because Ruby is in my life, but that’s a story for another time). I love Christmas, with the smell of the Christmas trees and the lights on people’s homes. I sometimes dread the picking out of gifts, because I usually can never afford the gifts I really want to give, so it always feels like I have to “settle” on a gift. I love wrapping gifts, I love picking out the paper and the bows and tags and making sure they all coordinate. I pick out the paper based on my feeling about Christmas that year: Fun? Whimsical? Classical? Holy? I already have in mind what I am doing for wrapping this year and it excites me. I hope my loved ones can feel the love and effort I put into making their gifts look and feel special—even if the gift itself isn’t exactly what I wanted to get them.

But these things… all of these things make me think of my Grandma Bonnie. That makes me sad and lonesome. She loved Christmas too. She went all out – you could feel the love in the gifts she gave her loved ones and the wrapping and the thoughtfulness in all of it. Her home at Christmas time, to a child, felt like a winter wonderland. She had different themes for her Christmas tree each year – and it was always a treat to go by after Thanksgiving and see what the theme was this year. And Squeaker the stuffed mouse, unfailingly sitting in the corner, with his Rudolph nose, waiting to light up and annoy the crap out of everyone. It smelled the beautiful Christmas smell (gingersnaps and Christmas trees), mixed with her signature Grandma Bonnie smell and I think it made everyone feel cozy and at home. I miss her. I miss her more at Christmas than I do at any other time of the year. She was a hoot. She was terribly sentimental, yet practical all at the same time. In small ways she was blunt, even crude, but in huge ways she was soft and gentle. My Mom talks of how Grandma would take in all the neighbor kids and friends when she and her siblings were kids – and how kids seemed to gravitate to her. She had such a natural way of making people feel at home. She did the same with my friends when I was a kid and teenager – she welcomed my friends into her home with open arms. I remember, as a kid, asking Grandma why she never locked her doors at night. She said, “Why would I do that? If a kidnapper came and took me away, he would just return me in the morning!” with a twinkle in her eye – insinuating that she’s nothing but trouble that no kidnapper would be willing to go up against. I absolutely adored her and that comment. I remember laughing and then wondering to myself, “But what about your stuff?” But I already knew the answer to that. Stuff didn’t matter to Grandma – all she wanted or needed was her family close by. Her kids and grandkids were like oxygen to her, I think. She often called me “Heidi Bug” and I would wrap that in my heart and hold it like a priceless treasure. In high school, I would go to her house after school or practice or to wait for Thor and his practice, and visit. Just the two of us. I could tell Grandma anything and everything. She never made me feel dumb or like “just” a kid. When I would leave, I always gave Grandma a hug goodbye. She would squeeze me so tight I would lose my breath, and give me a quick hard kiss on the cheek. When she pulled away, her eyes were full of tears – every.single.time – and she would make some goofy comment, or make like she was busy looking out the window, or fixing pillows on the couch, or whatever so that maybe, just maybe you wouldn’t notice her tears. I thought it was funny then. I didn’t want her to be sad that I was leaving, but as funny as it was that she felt the need to hide her tears, I was sad too. I didn’t want my Grandma to be sad or lonely. So I would tell her I love her, and sometimes I would choke up too. I loved her like crazy, and I wonder if she knew that? She was quirky and certain things she said and did would cause some family members to roll their eyes, but I always smiled and felt even closer to Grandma. I was quirky (alright, NERDY) too. I would do absolutely anything to have one more of those quiet visits with her – me curled up on her couch and Grandma in her recliner, with our mugs of hot chocolate, talking softly and watching the lights twinkle on her Christmas tree. I would do anything to have one more of those healing hugs – the hugs that left me breathless and feeling like I could do anything because I know Grandma loved me. Oh, how I miss her.

I think of my Mom, too, at Christmas. I think about how much she must miss her mother and how bittersweet it must feel. How fun it must be when your family grows – and there are new little ones to love. But also how sad it can be, when you have family that has passed on and how even though there are new ones to love, they don’t fill the void where others should be... I always try to remember to be happy for those who have gone before us – they are in a much better place. But… it doesn’t make me stop missing them. I'm sure it doesn't make Mom stop missing them either.

And then, I think of Ruby. I think about how she has come into my life in a whirlwind of love and light and laughter. How she has made each day so… joyful. Even the hard days, she somehow makes them easier. Sometimes when I pray at night, all I can think to say is “Thank You. A million times, thank You.” I think about how lucky I am to feel this way, to be blessed with this incredible little girl in my life. It takes my breath away – just like Grandma Bonnie’s hugs. I did right when I named Ruby after Grandma (Jean). I think Ruby is like Grandma Bonnie in a lot of ways. She’s rough and tumble, with a “get-sh*t-done” attitude like Grandma (both Grandmas actually). Ruby is also incredibly loving and thoughtful and sensitive, just like Grandma. She is brave and strong like Grandma. If Ruby hurts herself, she takes deep breaths and puffs her chest up and turns away – she tries so hard not to cry. And she, sure as hell, doesn’t want you to see her cry. Like Grandma.

I think about how blessed I was to have Grandma Bonnie in my life… and my mother… and now Ruby. I think how blessed Ruby is to have my Mom in her life as her Grandma. I know, without a doubt, that no one in the world loves Ruby more than me. But my Mom is surely a close second. They have a deep connection – they adore each other – it’s something you can see and feel when they are together. I feel like Ruby already feels about her Grandma the way I felt about my Grandma Bonnie. I’m eternally grateful to have those 3 extraordinary girls in my life.

So this holiday season when I finish picking out gifts, wrap them, and decorate our tree… I’m going to think of these 3 people who have formed and shaped me, who have helped me, lifted me, and loved me. My prayers will once again be, “Thank You. A million times, thank You.”

Ruby stories

Last night I was fighting a terrible migraine, so we made a quick evening of things. Leftovers for supper, then jammies by 6:00 p.m. Ruby and I curled up on the couch (me with an ice pack on my head) and watched Winnie the Pooh. Ruby loves the movie and it holds her attention, so that I can moan and groan in peace. After the movie, we curled up in my bed. It was only 7:30, but I didn’t have anything left in me for the day. Luckily, Ruby cooperated and snuggled in with me. In the dark, she curled up to my chest and placed her hand on my cheek and said, “Love you, Mama.” I think she heard the tears in my voice as I replied, “I love you too, Ruby.” I could feel her sit up, even as she kept her hand on my cheek. I could feel her breath on my face as she leaned in, “Ok, Mama?” (She meant “Are you ok, Mama?”) I had to laugh then, and said, “Yes, Ruby, I’m ok. I just love you so much.” She settled back down and leaned into my chest and tucked her hand around my neck, “K.”

Only a little while later, she insisted she needed more water. So, I took her sippy cup, told her to stay put in my bed, that I would be right back. She said ok. Without turning any lights on, I went to the kitchen to refill her sippy cup. On the way back to the bedroom, I could see a little bushy, black silhouette against the still blackness of the room, and I heard just the faintest scuffle noise. I screamed bloody murder until I realized it was Ruby standing 2 feet from me. I never dreamed she would be brave enough to climb from my bed in the pitch-black room and come find me. I saw the silhouette of her hair give a little shudder and she raced towards me and wrapped her arms around my legs. I’m sure I scared the crap out of her when I screamed. I busted out laughing and picked her up and she gave a hesitant, fake laugh kind of like, “What the h*ll, Mama?”

Then, this morning in getting ready for work and daycare, I had gathered the garbage and set it by the front door so I wouldn’t forget to take it to the dumpster on my way to work. Along with the garbage bag was an old pizza box. Finally, when we were ready to go, I was putting my coat on as Ruby was trying to move the garbage out of the way to open the door. Getting frustrated as she was bundled against the cold and donning mittens, she shoved the pizza box, “Beep Beep, pizza! BEEP BEEP!”

 

My little girl is so incredible.

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.