Humor and Pride

Charli makes us laugh all of the time.  She says the funniest things, when she isn't trying to be funny.  She has realized that making people laugh is good.  Being funny and liking being the center of attention is in her genes.  Unfortunately, 3 year old humor is really just that... funny for 3 year olds.  We have already had multiple conversations with her about how other kids will think the silly things she does are hilarious, but that adults won't.  She doesn't quite get it.  But, she does accidently keep us in stitches.  This weekend Jeff was running in the San Francisco Marathon and was talking to Charlotte about it.
"Are you going to win the race?"
"Well, no.  I will be happy just to finish the race.  The race is very long and I have never run that far before."
"Has the other guy run that far before?"
'Well, there aren't going to be just two of us, there will be lots and lots of people running the race."
"Oh, you should start in the front"

Brooke is growing so fast, I can hardly keep up.  She is growing out of her 6 to 9 month clothes, she sits quite well on her own, she commando crawls quite quickly (mostly right arm and left leg doing all the work), and she is getting her first tooth (bottom left).  She is also showing pride.  I had not really thought about being proud of yourself starting so early, but she is just that.  Last Friday, she clapped her little hands for the first time.  She held her left hand still and moved her right hand in and out to slap those meaty little palms together.  She looked mildly surprised, then began to smile, and then smiled up at me and showed me her new move again.  She does the same thing when I sit her on the potty.  Push, pee, big gummy grin.  Occasionally she claps for herself, when she is especially moved by her accomplishment.

Dazed and Confused

I used to have the most enviable night life of any new mother I knew.  When Brooke was two weeks old, she began to sleep through the night.  I would put her to bed at 9 pm and she would sleep soundly till at least 3:30 am.  Sometimes she would make it till 5.  I was getting a full night's sleep every night and could not fathom why everyone said two children was sooo much harder than one.  Don't get me wrong, it was a lot of work, but I had not become the deranged lunatic I remember being in Charli's first few months.  And then.... Brooke turned 4 months old and stopped sleeping.  I went from getting 5 to 7 straight hours of sleep to not getting more than two hours in a row.  Some nights, I get to see each and every hour on the clock.  Ahhhhh, there is the homicidal maniac I remember being.  It is amazing how much sleep affects my ability to cope with, well, everything.  I find myself yelling, and apologizing, much more to Charli these days.  I get overly upset when Brooke cries and then realize that she really doesn't cry much and usually only for good reason.  I also find myself standing in the midst of chaos in my house, struck impotent, with zero ability to figure out what to do.  I don't seem to have the ability to remember things, or to find the words to describe things to others.  I am doing a lot more pointing, grunting, and pantomiming to get my point across.  The house is also getting dirtier by the day.  I can only seem to get one type of cleaning thing done a day and unfortunately there more than 7 things to clean in the house.  I am realizing that a small house can be a really desirable thing.

Another reason a small house is good is that now Brooke is really moving faster and is trying to get onto her hands and knees.  Once she figures out how to balance on all fours we are in trouble.  I am considering getting a baby cage.  One of those fences that can be put up in a circle to corral my little explorer, and to keep my big explorer, or more importantly her toys, out.  I am realizing that somehow, my 3 year old is equipped with enough small parts to choke 10 infants.  Stickers falling from her clothing, wood chips from her shoes, rubberbands, clips, and coins.  That doesn't even take her small parted toys into account.  It is a wonder her sister has survived long enough to make me the sleep deprived monster I am today.  Every once in a while, through the haze and delirium, I notice my girls.  Really notice them.  Notice how small Charlotte still is, notice how helpless Brooke still is.  Notice the beautiful curves of both my girls faces.  Notice Charli's high pitched voice repeating things in an angry tone that is frighteningly familiar.  All of these things help me through the fog, help me break out of the self-pity and help me remember that these moments (the good and the not so great) are all fleeting.  That these girls are only this old for the blink of an eye and that I need to savor the moments.  Also, I remember that no matter how sleep starved I am, that I am still the adult in the house and that these girls are looking to me to understand the world and how to act.  I continue on my journey of parenthood and my daughters continue to teach me the way.

Cranky and Crusty

I went to a bread baking class the other day with my friend Marcia.  Jeff thought it was a silly thing to do, but he has since been graced with homemade pizza, fresh pita with hummus, and today I made my first sour artisan bread.  We ate half the round before dinner.  It turned out beautifully, if I do say so myself.  Charli has been excitedly helping me in the kitchen during this adventure as well.  She loves to help.  Most of the time I love it, sometimes it is just more work for me.  I have to think of ways for her to feel she is doing something without allowing her to mess up the recipe.  Yesterday, she helped me pour the ingredients I measured, and she helped to stir the dough after I had gotten the dough to start to form.  Today, she helped by opening the oven when I put the dough in and took the dough out.  She is such a bright little girl, she wants to do everything herself, but unfortunately I can't relinquish control.  I either want the recipe to come out and don't want to chance her measuring skills, I don't want too big of a mess to clean up, or I remember that she is only 3 years old and she really can't do everything she wants to.  She is still innocent enough to be honest though.  Today, she told Jeff that she is not supposed to get into Brooke's swing.  Then she whispered, "but I do".

Brooke is now on the move.  We put her in the middle of the living room and she rolls, kicks, spins, and drags herself until she is across the room and trying to get at something that can kill her.  I have not figured out why all babies are suicidal, but they all are attracted to electricity and things they can choke on.  Brooke will drag herself past all her toys to get under the table that holds the television components so she can pull and chew on the wires.  She is flat out refusing to allow me my favorite baby phase.  The one where they sit, smile, interact, and stay put.  She gives huge smiles and will surely interact with anyone who will give her attention, but she does not yet sit for more than a few seconds, and she will not stay put.  She is very cute though, and constantly makes me fall in love with her all over again.  Which is good, because, I don't allow just anyone to wake me up multiple times and manipulate me all night long. The time has come according to Brooke's doctor, my friend, and my mother, to put Brooke in her own room to help her sleep through the night.  I am almost ready for that experiment.  First, I have to clean out all of the boxes we are storing in the crib.  Then, I need a good night's sleep.  I think that if only I could get a full night's sleep, I might be ready to tackle this sleep training thing.