For Lilah, later

This won't be a long post. It's just something I need to get out.

I kept Lilah up far too late past her bedtime tonight, and in response, she started to get naughty. We were snuggling and watching Peter Pan. She kissed my face, then bit my cheek (lightly, but we don't tolerate any biting) and laughed. She got her warning. She played "Got your nose" and pinched my nose, then pinched my cheek hard. I picked her up and set her down firmly on the floor.

"Since you're being mean to me, I don't want to snuggle with you anymore. No one wants to snuggle with mean little girls." Her face contorted in a sequence of emotional masks - hurt, anger, confusion. She hit herself on the knee and watched for my reaction. I kept watching the movie, not wanting to give her any attention for the negative reaction. She hit the couch several times (which I am fine with. I've had to beat some pillows before in my life). I made eye contact with her and she approached the couch. I told her no. She picked up her teddy bear (who had been watching Peter Pan with us) and threw him on the floor.
"You can't lay with me," she shouted at the bear. Her eyes filled with tears and she ran to him, cradling him and rocking him. "Sorry. I'm sorry." My eyes filled up, and Dano came to put her to bed. She had forgotten her tantrum and her punishment by then (only moments later. Oh, the joys of being 2 1/2). She told me she loved me and said, "Sweet dreams!"

Being an emotionally trying time of month for me hormonally speaking, I proceeded to bite my lower lip and choke back the tears that had been backing up my lachrymal glands. Dano came back down and knew something was wrong. He stroked my back while I cried. I felt terrible for being the cause of Lilah's negative emotions, even though I knew it was most important that she suffer natural consequences for her actions. Aggressive behavior wasn't even slightly tolerated in the house, and no one wants to be around a little girl who's mean. I felt miserably unhappy for having witnessed her acting out her hurt feelings on her bear. It seems stupid to most, I'm sure.

I wondered how many other mothers had cried alone after making a decision that hurt their child. Knowing it was best for her was literally zero comfort. It only kept me from changing my mind. I wanted to write it out, not to make me feel better, but to somehow assuage my guilt. Maybe someday when she was older and I'd hurt her feelings with another unpopular decision, she'd read this and know that it hurt me as much or more.

Oddly enough, I wondered about a benevolent Creator. To create life with freewill seemed the most beautiful curse you could possibly bestow. Why in the world would He need to punish us Himself when natural consequences were so painful to watch if you loved the lives you created. Who needs damnation to hell when your children were suffering and dying by their own hands. I don't know how God isn't driven insane by grief.  As for me, my tears were spent after just a few minutes and I settled in to watch Westerns with Dano. Lilah was peacefully asleep with her bear and doll. I breathed a silent prayer that no matter how many hurtful decisions I had ahead of me, Lilah would always know that they hurt me too.

'Nake's new home

Lilah and I went to the Detroit Zoo because their 17 year old python had been built a lovely new home. I told Lilah about it after we got our Zoo newsletter, and she wanted to see it, as well as visit the fish their (having recently been denied a trip to the aquarium because we won't have time near New Year's). She has trouble saying "S" blends, so it was hard not to giggle when she kept asking to go see the 'nake.

I had a half-day yesterday, so I came home at lunch time. As soon as she was up from her nap, I asked her if she wanted to go to the zoo. She clasped her hands, jumped up and down, and said, "Yes! Yes I do want to go to the zoo!" Then she ran to get her rain boots.

Sans rain boots, we arrived at the zoo. I had two shirts, a sweater, and my pea-coat. Lilah had a tunic, leggings, a sweater, and a jacket. I hoped we'd be warm enough. It was 39 and sunny, but there was a winter chill in the air when the wind blew. We parked and fastened Lilah into the stroller (her clapping and wiggling the entire time, complete with sound effects. "Wiggle, wiggle! Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!"). The woman at the members gate was more astute than usual, checking not only my member card but my ID as well, and giving Lilah a visual once-over in case she...didn't look like a Lilah?

We went through the Butterfly House first. All of the elderly guides were bored with nothing to do, so they made over the baby and explained the butterfly life-cycle ad nauseum. There were owl butterflies nearly the size of Lilah's head. She didn't appreciate those very much. "I don't want them to wave at me!" whenever they'd open their wings.

We moved along to the Bird House. She saw a few parrots and watched them preen. She walked happily along the path, until I finally got her to look up into the canopy. She gasped. There were so many birds. Nearly 10 bright pink tropical birds with long beaks staring down at her with bright black eyes and craning their long necks closer.

We headed on to the otters next. There was one out chasing minnows. A dad was texting on the steps of the habitat while his two twin boys wreaked havoc. There is a station where you can push one of several buttons and it will play the noise of the corresponding animal. The boys were fighting and crying over who got to push the buttons. Eventually one boy came over to watch the otter. I made eye contact with the father, who shrugged and looked harried. "No naps today." I smiled weakly.
"Yeah, I here ya." Lilah narrated the otter's every activity happily between talking to him and asking how he was feeling about his snack of minnows. She asked if she could push one of the animal buttons. The little snot of a twin shouted in a whiny tone, "NO!" and brandished a stick at Lilah, baring his teeth. I took a deep breath.
"You can play with the buttons on our way out, my love. Let's watch the otter swim." Nearly 20 minutes later, we wrapped up with the otter and Lilah asked again to push an animal button. Both twins threw their entire bodies to cover the buttons. I looked at the dad and raised my eyebrows as a cue for him to get off his ass and handle his boys. He sighed wearily and walked over, stating in a bored tone, "Boys, be nice." The teeth-boy swung his stick again, coming too close to Lilah, so I relieved him of it and tossed it on the ground out of reach. He whined in the general direction of his dad, then swung at Lilah who was attempting to press a button while he was distracted. She took two big steps back and looked at me.
"He can't push, it's naughty."
"Yes, love. You're right." The father looked sheepish.
"They're going through an aggressive stage," he explained lamely as the boys threw their bodies over the station to prevent Lilah from having a turn. I picked Lilah up and moved on of the boys' arms neatly to the side so Lilah could have a turn while the boy collapsed into shrieks of rage. After Lilah pushed one button, the dad stroked the screaming boy's head and praised him for sharing. I tossed him a look of disgust and total parental judgement and thanked Lilah for being such a good girl. We left them and moved on to the reptiles.

The snake was very much enjoying her new home. The venomous snakes were very active, while the more friendly varieties were sleepier. We finished up just as the zoo was closing and packed up to go home. I buckled Lilah in to her car seat and she chattered happily about her visit to the animals. "My Mama took me to the zoo. I saw the animals. I'm a lucky girl." It was hard not to tear up. She was (barring her bad moods and days) so loving and well-behaved. Nothing pleased me more than making her happy, but she still wasn't able to get away with murder just because she had the capability of throwing a fit and making things unpleasant. In fact, that was all the more reason for us to continue to be strict with our expectations of the child. The more she got away with, the more she'd push the limits and rules and make our lives hell. The more firmly in place the boundaries are, the more comfortable she'll be in her world. And clearly we're doing something right.

Future personal trainer

Lilah has fallen in love with the world of exercise. Her pediatrician was concerned at first that she would get a complex; she would be anorexic by over-exercising or some nonsense (not sure when it became abnormal to love a healthy lifestyle in this world, but whatever). This was until I reassured them that we don't practice it to keep from getting fat or ugly, but to stay healthy and sleep well at night. I have noticed, though, that Lilah has taken a page or two from the yoga instructor's book and decided to...encourage me to be better at it. Tough love has become her specialty.
Here's a few excerpts from tonight's session.

 (Instructor) "Have a calm face and a quiet mind."
"Whatsa matter with you, Mama?"
"This hurts."
"Here, let me help you. I will push you," as she pushes me deeper into down dog.

"Whats wrong?"
"This is hard."
"Come on. You can move your hips better than that."

(Instructor) "I know this is hard work."
"That's not hard work. That's sleeping. Here, let me help you." As she sat on my back and bounced.

At one point, she was baking Melissa & Doug cookies on my back while I was in pigeon.

She positioned Baby Doll on the mat with me to "help".

"*Groan*"
"Are you okay? Can you do two more deep breaths? There, there. It will be fine. Come here. *Kiss*"

While in boat, a pose really hard on my abs, the little snot got snarky. "Here, you want my baby dolly? She likes to sleep like you. Here she is.
(Sarcstic) "Thanks."
"Oh, not a problem."

Friday Night Live

Last night Lilah and I drove downtown to Friday Night Live at the DIA. They have live music, workshops, drawing in the galleries, and wandering the museum by night. It's one of my favorite things. The lighting is different, the vibe is different, you skip out on loud school groups. It's generally a great time.

I was feeling unusually confident, having driven us there and parked without getting lost. Not to mention, I was wearing a wine-colored silk dress I barely wear and I felt like I looked good in it. Lilah was stylish in a burgundy tunic and leggings with her brown suede boots. For whatever reason, the parking lot guy didn't make us pay for parking, so that was cool. We got into the museum and Lilah transformed into an angel. I checked my coat.
"Where's she taking your coat?"
"She's hanging it up for me."
"That's so nice. Thank you!" Of course, the woman was charmed. We made our way to the drop in workshop. The man at the table by the door explained the process - take a carton with a sugar skull in it. Take some beads and sequins. "Glue" them on with icing. Do not eat the finished product. Lilah and I grabbed a stool. She took a few fists full of beads and sequins and set to work on her "sugar 'kull". It ended up with blue hair, a green butterfly for a nose, white bead eyes stuck on with pink icing. and a mouth full of bright yellow teeth. Lilah ate a bit of frosting, and I had to extract a bead from her mouth when she decided to sample one. We went to wash her hands when she was finished, and a volunteer came to admire her work.
"Very pretty skull! And you!" He turned to me. "That dress is lovely!" My happy-meter rose a few notches. We left the workshop and I asked her what she wanted to see. "We could see paintings, or the Egyptian gods - Ra, Horus, Anubis. We can see statues or sculptures..."
"I want to see Ra!"
"Okay. Let's go."

We walked past the bronze donkey and Lilah had to stop to pat him. Two other little girls were doing the same while there parents watched on. Lilah was shaking her sugar skull to death in its carton, as were the other girls. Their parents laughed.
"We offered to carry theirs, but..." The dad shrugged.
"Same here."
"Your dress is really exceptionally beautiful. I love it." I was really surprised.
"Um, thank you!" We continued on toward the Egypt Exhibit. We passed glass cases with statues. There was an ebony colored figure holding a small head in its hand. Lilah stopped short.
"Mama, what's he doing?"
"Tell me what you see." I've always said that to Lilah to get her to use her brain and her thinking skills.
"It looks like an animal. Or a little boy with an animal in his pocket." Okay then. We kept walking. She almost ran headlong into a guide.
"Well hey there! Aren't you adorable! And your mommy's dress is awesome!" What was with people? "Are you ladies looking for anything in particular?"
"Just wandering."
Lilah beamed and pointed down a corridor. "Can you take me to Ra?" He looked confusedly at me.
"The sun god. She wants to see the Egypt exhibit." He laughed and held out his hand. She took it and he led her to the exhibit and showed her around.
"This is a mummy. There's a person in there." She pressed her nose to the glass.
"Say hi to him, Lilah."
"Actually, it's a girl. They think she's from around 30BC."
"Is she okay in there?"
"She died, and they wrapped her up and put her in there to keep her safe."
"Aww, poor little thing." And she kissed the glass. We saw the whole area and moved on to the Islamic and Asian exhibits. They have a lot of beautiful pottery there.
"What do you see, Lilah?"
"A bowl of soup. And a guy. He's sleeping. Are you okay, little boy?" It was a statue of what looked like a monk in lotus, praying.

She ran into the African exhibit, where they had drawing areas set up. "I want to color!" She tried hard to climb up onto the seat and grab the paper. A woman came over and told us the project was for ages 5 and up, so we moved on.
We ended up in the gallery with one of my favorite paintings, The Nut Gatherers. "What are the little girls doing, Mama? Where are their shoes? Did they lost them? Do they need sockies? Yeah? What is she giving her?"
"Nuts."
"Yeah, nuts. What's that little girl doing?" Next to that painting is one of a little blonde girl in a pink dress in her mother's lap. "Is her mama holding her baby? Is she happy? Is she wearing clothes?" I pointed out a case of busts. Two were babies and one was a woman with barely discernible facial features. Lilah didn't care for the woman, but stared at the two babies. "Is he hungry? Does he want some milk?" The one baby's mouth was open.
She followed her ears to the Diego Rivera court where there was live music. "What are they playing, Mama? Songs? Guitar? Piano? Put me down." She wriggled out of my arms and dashed to about 5 feet from the stage before I could grab her and proceeded to do her Lilah-dance. I was afraid the people around would be bothered. The musicians giggled and the listeners thought she was wonderful. She raced out into the next area where they had tables and a screen set up for those who couldn't fit in the Rivera Court. She went table to table waving and dancing for people and showing them her sugar skull.

We made our way back to the coat check and she accidentally bumped into a lady. "Oh, excuse me!" I was so proud of her manners.
"Well aren't you beautiful! And tell your mother her dress is amazing." Not two seconds later, a group of men my age were passing us and one turned around to call back.
"I really like your cheongsam! That's a great color." And kept on walking. We got my coat, Lilah handing our number to the lady and thanking her for its safe return. We made it out to the car, both happy and full of love after our mama-daughter date to the DIA. I wasn't sure what in the world had gotten into people, but I had never received so many compliments from strangers. Lilah was constantly admired by people for her good manners and cheerful demeanor. It was easily one of the best outings we've been on.

Exodus according to a 2 1/2 year old

I watched Prince of Egypt with Lilah tonight as our snuggle movie. It was so interesting and wildly entertaining to hear her commentary and answer her questions. There were some more potent questions that I left for Pastor Grannie Annie to answer at a later date and just placated her with, "Hush and watch the movie." I decided to transcribe some of her comments.

"What's she doing to her baby, Mama? Puttin' him in the water? Why is she crying? Is he gonna be okay? Yeah? He likes her singin' to him? Why are the alligators eatin' the baby?"

"Why he hurtin' her, Mama? Is she all right? Yeah? Is she singing? Is she happy? Yeah? Why's she crying?"

"What's that?"
"A camel."
"Is the camel eating him?"

"Did he fall down into the water? Are they getting him out? Is he swimming?"

"What's that, Mama? Water?"
"No, darling. It's a tree on fire. It's God."
"God?"
"God."
"God likes trees?"
"Sure."
"He likes putting fire on them?"
"...Sure."
"Lookit, Mama. God gave Moses a stick. Does he like it? Yeah? Pick up your stick."

"What's the stick doing? Making a snake? Yeah? Why not?"
"God did it with his power."
"What are they (the Egyptian priests) doing?"
"Well, they're asking their Gods to make snakes too."
"They have God?"
"Their God's name is Ra."
"Look, Mama. Ra made snakes like God...God-snake's eatin' the other snakes...They're gone. Are they sad? Is the snake a stick now? Did he miss his stick? He picked it up."

"What's wrong with the water, Mama?"
"It's yucky. God put blood in it."
"Ra made blood."
"Well, it's fake blood. God made real blood."
"No."

"What's happenin', Mama?"
"Um...God's coming down from the sky."
"What's He doing?"
"He's...taking the babies away."
"Why?"
"Because Pharaoh wasn't nice and he's in trouble."
"That little boy fell down. God isn't nice."
"..."
"God should be nice. God shouldn't push the little boy down. God should go back up there."
(When Pharaoh's son died) "Is he sleeping?"
"...No. He was sick and now he's not going to come back."
"God put him to sleep?"
"Well...Pharaoh is...God...yes. "
"His daddy can't cover him up. He (the little boy) doesn't want to be cozy. He wants to get up. He doesn't want to be sleeping."

"Are they happy? Yeah? Are they singing songs? Do they get to go home? Did God do it? Did Ra do it? Did the stick do it? Moses is happy because he has his stick."

So, in conclusion, God looks like water and likes setting trees on fire, Ra is just as talented as God at making snakes out of sticks and blood out of water, God is mean and should go back where he came from instead of making little boys sleep when they "don't want to be cozy", and we would all be a little happier if we had magical sticks.

30 months

Lilah had her 2.5 year physical today. The morning was a bit of a clusterf*ck. I had to be a medical assistant for Dr Kolin, with whom I'd never worked. She was patient and understanding. But that also put me in the position of having to be an MA for my own daughter, which made me super uncomfortable. I basically did her height, weight, head circumference, and poked her toe to get a hemoglobin. This coming, of course, after she toured the office and showed everyone her boots.

Dr Kolin came in as I was poking her and said, "You can't poke your own kid!" I said, "Yeah, well there's no one else to do it." She conceded this point (we're short staffed). "Crystal's doing her shots though."

Lilah was charming as usual. She did not agree with having her heart and lungs checked out. "I'm fine, don't listen to me." I had to hold her head still so Dr Kolin could get a decent look at her ears. Her eye defect was addressed. Dr Kolin wasn't worried. "We'll check it before kindergarten."

She was in the 25th percentile for height and weight, with an average head (i.e. huge on her tiny body). Her hemoglobin was better than mine. Her sentences surprised everyone. She is getting sent for a blood draw. That part is a bummer. Her lead level should be checked because of the zip code we live in, and they'll check to see if this milk nonsense is a true allergy or an intolerance.

I opted to get her the nasal spray Flumist. It's a live virus and better immunity than the inactivated shot. Plus, no mercury. Flu shots are the only vaccine that still contain thermerisol, a preservative that's mercury-based. While lots of studies have proven that it isn't linked to being harmful, I don't love the idea of it either way. A study came out linking consecutive years of flu shots to early onset Alzheimers. That freaked me out a little.

Dr Kolin watched her walk (her toes point out a little, but so do Dano's), stand on one foot, and hop. She said her sentence use and structure was exceptionally good for her age, and we should probably be encouraging her to sit on the potty more.

Crystal came in to give Lilah's vaccines. I laid her down on the table and Crystal squirted the mist up her nose. "I don't like it!" And it was over.  Then onto the shots. She was 100% fine until the needle went in. Then she scrunched up her eyebrows and let out a little bird yell. Then it was over. She looked down at her legs and started crying and flailing her arms. "I don't want any stickers! I said I didn't want stickers!" She frantically swatted at the Tweety Bird bandaids on her thighs. Crystal laughed. "Is that all she's upset about?"

In the end, she got a sucker and a sticker, said her thank yous and goodbyes. We went to Panera and she got a pumpkin cookie for being extra good and brave. We're in the clear til she's 3!

Rant

You know, there is this perfect picture of motherhood in my head. To me, it embodies selflessness. Your kid always coming first and you being happy about it. Well, today, that's just not me.

We were supposed to go meet a puppy this afternoon. For once, it seemed like it might work. We've been looking for a puppy for 6 months with no luck. It never works out. I've really wanted one.

When Lilah woke up from her nap, she was crabby, whiny, and mouthy. She utterly refused to get in the car. We realized quickly that driving 45 minutes to meet a dog would be disaster and we'd end up frustrated. Dano and I agreed to call it quits. Since then, she's continued to be whiny and a total grouch. Well, she sweet and cute with Dano, of course. Instead of taking a deep breath and patiently dealing with her, I'm so angry. I can't even look at her. It's not her fault she woke up on the wrong side of bed. She's 2 1/2. She's been sassy all day, but it wasn't until it interfered with my plans that it mattered.

She's frequented time out. She's had breaks in her room. She's had distraction with toys. I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to reason with my insane toddler. I don't want to be a perfect, patient mother. I don't actually care that she's in a bad mood. I want to throw a fit along side her. I want to kick and scream and cry that I didn't get my way. It seems like this always happens any time I want to do something for me. I didn't get anything for Mother's Day or my birthday. I don't get girls nights out, adult time, hobbies, allowances, or me-time. I go to the bathroom either with company or tiny fists pounding down the door. My baths and showers are almost never solo. I cook and bake and try to keep the house as clean as I can. I stopped doing yoga because she pushed me over while she was awake and I was exhausted by the time she went to sleep. Now in the meantime, I'm feeling out of shape, flabby, and my self esteem is taking a hit. I try to keep everyone in this damn house happy, healthy, and entertained and all the while it feels like it's take, take, take until I'm running on empty but nobody cares.

If I suggest doing something, Dano never wants to go unless it suits. He wants his time away, which is fine. I'm the one taking her to events and errands. But any time it comes down to something for me that they don't feel like participating in, it all falls apart. I'm tired of trying to stuff my ridiculous family into this mould that they're never going to fit. And what's the point anyway if I'm working 90 hours a pay period. I get
15 hours during the week while Lilah's awake. That's not enough time to be the mother I want to be. I feel like I'm better off just working and making sure she has toys and food and a fun time with her dad. She spends the first 90 minutes I'm home whining and crying at me anyway.

I wanted to be this amazingly domestic wife and mother who raised a family and took care of a house. That was my biggest dream. To be a nurse was always second and I really thought I could reconcile the two. The longer this goes on, the more apparent it is that I'm trapped in one role and failing at the other.

Chicago

Our Labor Day weekend in Chicago was one of the most enjoyable family trips we've ever taken. The drive wasn't too terrible. Dano was gracious enough to do all of the driving (on his birthday, no less), and even agreed to stop off for lunch at my favorite childhood restaurant - Das Essenhaus. It's smack dab in the middle of Amish Country, and has the best home-cooked food you'll ever eat. Their pies are amazing, so we had to stop in the bakery on the way out and stock up on some, as well as noodles, breads, and spreads.

We got to Chicago without incident (Lilah being very laid back on the drive with only the occasional escape attempt) and met Ann, Larry, and Max on the seminary campus. Ann met us first on the sidewalk and, after greeting Lilah, walked to the car to help Dano get some things in the apartment. After having been promised her Grannie all day long, Lilah watched her walk away a mere 2 minutes after getting to hold her and laid face-down on the sidewalk to cry. She was in hysterics, so I picked her up to carry her the insurmountable 1/2 block to the courtyard where Larry was scooping ice cream for the students. She was red and puffy of face when she heard Grandpa's voice and realized that she wasn't being totally robbed of grandparents. I put her down and she ran to him. It was very sweet. She was rewarded with rainbow sherbet in a cone. She was pleased.

Grannie Annie made it back to her and took her inside to wash her hands and face. They stopped off for a quick baptism in the font (after which Lilah apparently turned to the woman nearest her, threw her fist in the air, and shouted, "Baptized!"). She had been baptized before, but with as much demon as that child has in her sometimes, I figure it's like a DTaP vaccine and she needs a booster every couple of years for it to be effective.

We had Chinese food and a night in with coffee and whiskey. With much coaxing several hours after her regular bedtime (with a time change to boot), Lilah went down for bed in the pack-and-play. Kazyz, the black boxer-dog, was suffering from an allergic reaction to life itself and had lost much hair. Some patches were raw and bleeding from him scratching, which he proceeded to do most of the night, as well as gag on spit or food or something. This made sleeping difficult. Ann and Larry took him in their room near 5AM. Shortly thereafter, Dano shook me awake. Right before I got annoyed with him, I heard a cheerful chirp from the darkness. "Mamaaaa!" followed by a thunk, a rustle, and a small body crawling up on the air mattress because she "just wanna be cozy, Mama." The three of us snuggled until morning.

Friday was "hot as the devil's"...well, you get the idea if you've ever lived in the South. It was well over 90 degrees and humid. We got around in the morning and walked to Starbucks. I indulged in a guilty pleasure - an absolutely giant double shot pumpkin spice latte. The Starbucks had an odd little courtyard and backyard with grass and a little tree swing and slide. Lilah attempted to play nicely with two beautiful French toddlers with blond curly hair. She ended up perched at the top of the slide while they shouted angrily up at her in French and their mother laughed.

From there we walked the god-forsaken halfmile to the train station. I was so hot by the time we got there. The train ride was short, and Lilah loved it. We had gotten her a ticket, unsure of the age limits. Larry told the conductor, and he smiled down at her. "Princesses don't need tickets." She beamed. I swear, so did Larry.

We walked the short distance to Shedd Aquarium. I was hungry and hot, and seriously dismayed to see the line down the front steps of the building. An amazing employee soaked with sweat from being out in the sun pointed us around the corner to a wheelchair entrance and let us take Lilah in. I was so thankful to be in the cool air again. We paid for the general tickets ($8), rather than the super deluxe amazing handjob tickets (paraphrasing, $29). The man behind the counter said we wouldn't get to see otters, jellyfish, whales, dolphins, penguins, sea lions, or sharks. We shrugged. We ate in the food court. Lilah was thrilled to death with her apple sauce, hot dog, and teddy grahams. I cheerfully ate my fish sliders and hoped it wasn't some poor old fish from the aquarium who had gone belly up.

We mostly let Lilah lead the way, herding her on to the next exhibit if she lingered overly long at one animal. She had an amazing time. Unknowingly, we ended up seeing otters, jellyfish, whales, dolphins, penguins, and sea lions (the sharks were well-guarded), since our tour guide was a 30 month old who ran merrily from one enclosure to the next and the employees were lax about checking for wristbands for entry to see the special animals. When we got to the Amazon exhibit, we had seen everything humanly possible to see without decking an employee and sneaking into sharks. Lilah fell asleep in her stroller and woke up in the gift shop very confused and upset. Grandpa bought her a ball that made it better. We rode home on the train and had leftover Chinese for dinner.

Saturday we took the L into the city to do some thrift shopping. We met Bill Palm, an old family friend, for lunch at M Henry's. Anyone with kids can appreciate the waitress almost immediately bringing Lilah a small dish of sliced bananas, strawberries, and cranberries. It kept her entertained and certainly bought the waitress a sizable tip. After we finished, we went thrift shopping in a downpour and visited a Swedish Bakery. We took the L home again and were accosted by a handful of very drunken Cubs fans after the game. One of the women took to stroking Max's very bright hair and told him she hoped it would grow out brown. Another took to Lilah like bees on honey. She peppered cooing over Lilah Rose with pole dancing around the L car (trust me, more charming on Rent) and cursing her other friends. As much as I love having the F-word spewed liberally around my 2 1/2 year old , I took her into my lap since the woman was also very handsy with her and I wasn't comfortable. 

Back at the apartment and drenched, I grabbed my pajamas and went into the bathroom to change while Lilah tore around the house with Grandpa. I heard a thud, followed by silence, then a piercing scream. I rolled my eyes. She'd probably hit her head. We were always telling her to watch her head. Then Dano yelled for me. "Sweetheart, she's bleeding." I yanked the door open and saw her cradled in his arms, screaming, blood streaming from her right eye. I panicked and took her, shaking. I took her and grabbed a rag to wipe the blood away, praying to God that it wasn't her eye. I saw the source of the blood - a cut about 1/4 inch from her eye. They told me she ran into the corner of the marble entryway table. At the last minute, Larry called her name and she turned her head. If she hadn't, it could have been her eye. The marble got the bone, not the eye itself. Ann asked me if we needed to go to the ER. I told her it wasn't Lilah's eye and sat down in a chair to soothe my child. She wouldn't stop screaming, and I went back and forth between thanking God for protecting my baby and near-hysterics at the could-have-beens.

She calmed down enough to eat a fruit tart. I went to the kitchen to make dinner. I needed to do something or I'd break down and cry. I had to keep blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. I snuggled her the rest of the night. We all watched Rango. She had a bruise for eye shadow, but otherwise was none the worse for wear. Her tears kept flushing salt into the cut, so she naturally cleansed her wound.

Sunday we went to a family lunch at a Mediterranean place. Ann suggested we bring a bottle of wine, with the stipulation we had to finish it there. I accepted the challenge. The lamb schwarma was wonderful, and so was the merlot. We walked off our (ample) buzz by touring Hyde Park and walking to Frank Lloyd Wright's Robie House. I took a thousand pictures of everything, my nose included, and broke away from the group to go rock hunting, sure I'd spotted a petoskey stone (I hadn't, but found some cool rocks nonetheless). Dano had a very chatty, silly passenger for most of the ride home.

All in all the trip to Chicago was wonderful and I can't wait to go back.

In the meantime...

I am still working on a Chicago blog, but in the meantime, I thought I'd share some snippets of my conversations with my two oldest nephews tonight. I had them for a game night while other parents were at the DIA. They turned a very dismal Auntie into a laughing one who enjoyed her evening, as they are wont to do. We watched UP, they pretended to be asleep so Lilah would be tricked into going to bed, and we played Life.

"Which person is the driver?" -E
"It's always the man." -Me.

After seeing a concert in a church pop up on Last.FM with a crucifix in the background...
"Who is that guy?" -E
"It's Jesus." -Me
"Who the heck is Jesus and why doesn't he just get down?" -E

This one touched me.
"If I get married, I'll marry a girl and pretend that it's you." -E

This one floored me and made me go in the kitchen and laugh my head off. I think Zedd was trying to get out of the kissing aspect of marriage.
"I want to marry a boy." -Z
"Okay. Here's your husband." -Me
"Do boys still kiss when they marry boys?" -Z
"Yes." -Me
"Oh. Then I want a divorce. Anyways, with a husband, I can only have a baby if I adopt." -Z
"I don't want a baby! I just want a dog!" -E

Said with an eyeroll by Zeddicus...
"A condo is like a great big apartment." -Me
"I know what a condo is, Auntie. I've been to Disney." -Z

This last one seemed especially poignant, as we had just watched UP.
"What is this game about?" -Z
"It's about making all of the money. It's Life!" -Me
"Life isn't about money. It's about doing all of the fun stuff." -Z. 

Stormy weather

The other day Lilah crawled into my lap and asked me to sing her a song. I started one of the usuals and she violently shook her head. "No no no. Don't say that. Sing Tables. Turning Tables." Leave it to my kid to want Adele as a lullaby. So I snuggled her head to my chest and we sang. She hummed along as close to on-key as one can manage at 2 1/2, and I sang a song that's very close to my heart. As I did, I got a bit introspective.

I love "Turning Tables" because of the quiet strength it exudes. It turned my memory back 6-7 years. Things with my parents had reached the height of their nastiness. I spent more time than not dissolving into tears at the daily heartache. My personal theme songs went from "Who I Am Hates Who I've Been" (self loathing at its best) to "Praise You In This Storm". It was even my ringtone for my parents. For those of you who have never heard it, the gist of it is giving thanks to God during the hard times (nice thought) even when he seems to be nowhere in sight (not such a nice thought). I remember sitting in the Kroger parking lot just to get away and crying while the words washed over me.

I was sure by now, God You would have reached down
and wiped our tears away,
stepped in and saved the day.
But once again, I say amen
and it's still raining
as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain,
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away.

And I'll praise you in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am

It helped at the time, but as I grew in who I was, I started to resent the song and what it represented. "Wait, so I'm supposed to stay here, miserable, and let myself get shipwrecked over and over? Without any hope of rescue or end in sight?" I couldn't keep it up. I got stronger. The magical help I was waiting for wasn't coming, refused to come. Was either incapable or unwilling. I was the only help I was ever going to get. So God was with me. Great. But I was still in pieces. 


The first time I heard "Turning Tables", it struck a chord in me. It was who I was, who I'd grown into. And I was so happy to be me.

Under haunted skies I see you
Where love is lost, your ghost is found
I braved a hundred storms to leave you
As hard as you try, no I will never be knocked down
I can't keep up with your turning tables
Under your thumb, I can't breathe

So I won't let you close enough to hurt me, no
I won't ask you, you to just desert me
I can't give you, what you think you give me
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables
Turning tables
Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior
When the thunder calls for me
Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior

Standing on my own two feet

I would never have to rely on anyone else. I've saved myself a hundred times since then. A few times a year when things pop up that seem insurmountable, I take immeasurable comfort in the storms I've braved so far and the storms that can never knock me down again. But it took me every single one of those hurts to form scar tissue thick enough.

I rocked my sweet little baby and almost laughed as I sang "I won't let you close enough to hurt me." That line applied to nearly everyone in my life but her. I couldn't block her out if I tried. She is an ingrained part of my soul, the deepest and most personal part of me. I hope Lilah will be strong enough one day to shove away a relationship that could destroy her. I hope she realizes just how much in life is optional. You always have a choice. Some are harder than others, but one of the most liberating things in the world is to smile and walk away from a bridge you left burning. Even if it feels like you're burning a part of yourself, one day you can look back and dance around the funeral pyre that turned out to be just the cauterization of a wound.

Rootless tree

I'm feeling odd today. A unique combination of two profoundly different emotions. I seem to have drifted apart from the only older family member I had left, and it's left me feeling both apathetic and deeply injured.

There was no major fight or disagreement. Just life and the way we want to live it. Two very separate paths that finally forked left me yet again feeling orphaned. Simply put, I am not the kind of person she chooses to be intimately involved with anymore. I choose spirituality over religion, candor over censorship, and most importantly, I choose myself over approval.

While this doesn't directly relate to my parenting of Lilah, in a way it absolutely does. She doesn't share a single drop of blood with some of the people that love her best. Adam, Dennis, Mellisa, Erin, Ryan, Rob, the Bells, Avery, Mia, Kevin, Whitney, Bob and Gen. This doesn't even touch the aunties, cousins, grandparents, and uncles who are related to her. For her, I'm truly content that she isn't missing anything. She, like Dano, is entwined in a family with history, traditions, memories, and love and is beloved and adored for who she is.

I feel a strong sense of transplantation. I was taken from where I started and I have truly thrived elsewhere. Like the tomato plants on my porch, I put down roots and grew happily where I was planted. But it's days like today where I look at the Ball tomato plants that have flourished into a veritable jungle and I look at mine and realize with a deep pang of heartbreak that their roots have hit the bottom of pot. I could take the fruits I've grown and plant them in someone else's yard and they grow into amazingly tall, healthy miracles. But mine have gone as deep as they can go and the best they have to hope for is that the seeds they worked so hard to grow will have an easier time.

As silly as it is, it hurts on Mad Men every time someone looks suspiciously at Don Draper and says accusingly, "He can't be trusted. He doesn't even have any people." And for as easily as Dano can reassuringly tell me, "Sweetheart, the past doesn't matter," it does. All those buried, half-forgotten memories and wishes no one can ever grant are ever on the lookout for the slightest foothold to claw their way to the surface again. The history I desperately wish I had is non-existent and now with this one last family tie that was so neatly snipped, I can't even pretend anymore. In a sense, it's a relief. When I realized I wasn't who she wanted, all those old emotions rushed back. "What can I do to fix it? What can I change?" But they were brushed away like a dead leaf that falls on your shoulder. I just shook my head. "Not this time." It wasn't even tempting. I've had it with this constant process of self-modification to meet the standards of others. If I have to change who I'm comfortable being and sacrifice my sense of self to be a little more palatable for you, then I'm very sorry but you aren't worth the work it would take to make you happy.


Give me one decent reason that the "me" I grew into isn't good enough for you. It's such a racket and it's a hampster wheel I hopped off of years ago.

I have just accepted that some days are worse than others. 99% of the time I'm so happy with the life I'm living, I forget the one I missed out on. It's those 1% days that are like poison in my blood. Just a drop and a few heartbeats later, I'm septic.

But not Lilah. Never Lilah. Not as long as I'm breathing. For her it's pure air, blue skies, clear water, and unconditional acceptance from the people who made her. She was "good enough" from the moment she was born and she's exceeded my expectations ever since.

Family Reunion

This weekend has been one big giant gathering of Dano's family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, children, siblings, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. Lilah has been greatly enjoying herself and largely well behaved. Considering the lack of sleep, over stimulation, constant activity, and optional naps, things have gone better than they could have.

I have felt displaced and odd. Not upset or sad. I just don't really know how to feel. It has been fast paced and busy. I feel like the gathering of people have been very focused on where we're going and what we're doing. The Alexanders and Balls (who are the normal Detroit area crew) are usually content to hang around, sometimes eat, sometimes do something, but the who is always more of a focus than the what or where.

While taking cover from the rain today, Ephraim was interrogating me and Larry about the different "baby songs" sung to each child. Lilah's was "Bandit Queen" and "Ida, Sweet as Apple Cider" (only we sang "Lilah" instead of "Ida"). EJ's was "Bye Bye Baby". I can't remember Zedd's. He asked what mine was. I didn't have one. "Well who sang to you?"
"Nobody."
"Why didn't your mama or daddy?"
"They didn't like to sing."
"Why not? Where are they?"
"Far away."
"Why aren't they here? Where do they live?"
"I don't even know anymore, Eph."

There are no members of Dano's family whom I dislike. They all like me and accepted me into the family. I have no in-law horror stories. I just truly don't know how to interact. I have gotten very comfortable with Kim, Adam, the boys, Ann, Larry, and Max. I feel like me around them. But add others into the mix that I have met once or twice or not at all, and I feel lost. They have the same blood in their veins that flows through the child in my arms, but they're total strangers to me. Yet people like Dennis (Adam's dad) share no relation to my little family whatsoever, but feel like blood. It's so confusing to me, who doesn't know what a normal family unit looks like, let alone all this extended family nonsense.

I would love to have one more day of my weekend to recover before going back to work tomorrow, but that's not in the cards. It's been nonstop activity since Friday at 6 and I'm worn out just from the business of it all. Flu season will be starting at work soon and I need all the time I can get before that madness. Labor Day is fast approaching and I have 5 days off. I'd like to go camping or something, but we'll see what happens. In the meantime, I am really enjoying the small, boring unit that is my family and learning to live and be happy in the moment instead of always looking frantically forward to the next thing I'm supposed to be doing. I'm content being unexciting.

TGIF?

I woke up today very happy to be working from my Troy office today. I was unimpressed with the 40-60 minute one-way commute to Farmington Hills earlier in the week. I got ready and was taking my vitamins when I heard a soft mewing noise. I assumed the cat was up to some shenanigans and swallowed another pill when the cat walked by me, croaked, and sat down to observe. The mewing noise continued but was obviously not being made by Soup. I followed it upstairs to find Lilah still asleep but whimpering in her crib. I ran my hand over her forehead and felt her burning up with fever. She sat up and reached for me, pitifully saying, "Oww Mama," when I took hold of her. I took her temperature - 101.2. I don't have a sickly or feverish child on a regular basis. In fact, her previous ear infection was the only time she has ever cleared a low grade 99 for teething. I wasn't alarmed as much as concerned.

I gave her Motrin and a vitamin C/zinc lozenge and snuggled her after getting her a some water. She refused any food. Dano was up by then and helped me get her settled with a movie as I tried (unsuccessfully) to sneak out the door without her noticing. It killed me to leave, even knowing she was in the best possible hands.

Her fever went down to 99 in an hour and she was playing. I was relieved and went about my work day while still communicating with Dano. I toyed with the idea of getting her a Saturday morning appointment so we didn't have any weirdness pop up over the weekend. I got her new patient forms all filled out and faxed a records request to her previous pediatricians. After only 4.5 hours, the Motrin wore off and Dano reported she was listless and feverish again, this time climbing to 102. I had no Tylenol to supplement with in the house, so I expressed my concern to Maryl, the head nurse who has been in charge of my training. Within minutes, Lilah Rose had herself an appointment with Dr. Kolin for 2 hours in the future.

I watched the computer system click away as the office staff threw a chart together in no time for my daughter, who hadn't been more than a name to them moments before. Unlike other offices, they wanted her to have more Motrin before coming in, choosing to believe the parents and examine a comfortable child rather than have to see the fever and misery for themselves. I got a call telling me that Dano and Lilah were in the elevator - the MAs had been watching out the window. I was unsure how to proceed from there. Maryl said, "Go be a Mom." I was so thankful.

I went to the waiting room to find it empty. They had been taken straight back to a room. The MA Crystal was in the middle of getting Lilah to stand on the scale - 26lbs! Even with a fever she was still laughing and playing around. Her temp was down to 99 after the Motrin again. We only waited about 10 minutes for Dr. Kolin. Lilah had already told me she wanted a girl doctor at the new peds office, so I figured we'd see how she took to Dr. Kolin. She came in and said, "Hi Lilah Rose! I'm Dr. Myra!" She gave Lilah a high five and said she felt so lucky to be the first one to get to know her, and that she was beautiful. She asked me if anything pertinent had been going on lately, anyone we knew with strep, any colds or teething. I mentioned her knee infection and the doctor took a look and said she wasn't at all worried but checked the knee and hip lymph nodes anyway. Her ears looked "beautiful" and no infection there. No cough or congestion. She took one look in Lilah's mouth (with Lilah saying, "Blah!") and spotted some ulcers. "Coxsackies! That's Hand-foot-and mouth disease." Just a virus to run its course. She'd have a high fever for a few days and all we needed to do was keep it down and keep her comfortable. They didn't even have to strep test her. I was amazingly thankful they didn't try to throw her on antibiotics for no reason.

When Dr. Kolin was finished, she offered to hand Lilah back to me. Lilah said, "No, don't want to go to Mama." Lilah was totally comfortable with her. She explained everything she was doing to Lilah before she did it, and was quick without being brusque. We were out in under 30 minutes. I was back at my desk plugging away at my stack of health forms and Lilah was happy as a clam with a fistful of stickers and an orange sucker. In 3-5 days, she'll be good as new. Currently, she is screaming as loud and as long as she can since the ulcers hurt. "Aaaaah! Honey, it hurts. Aaaaaah!" It might be a long weekend, but I haven't felt this comfortable with her care since Dr. Hatfield. She can stay at this practice until she's 18 as far as I'm concerned.

The infection pt. 2

Before I could fall asleep, I had to check on Lilah to make sure she hadn't spiked a fever or perhaps died (these obviously being the only options). Other than sleeping on top of her blankets and it being chilly with the air conditioning on, she was fast asleep with cool, dry skin. Her bandage was still intact and looked exactly the same.

I woke up at 5 and contemplated checking on her again but decided to stay sane and go back to sleep. At 8 I woke with a start at the cat nudging me awake to alert me that she had thrown up under the dining room table. I heard Lilah whining in her crib so I went to get her. Her skin was ice cold because she had thrown all the blankets out of the crib and sat in the air conditioning. Her bandage looked wet and had an odd color to it. I changed her diaper. The whole time she was chanting, "Take it off, Mama? Yeah? Gonna take it off now?" while tugging at her bandage. I took off the tape and unwound it. The swelling was reduced. The redness had calmed down to a gentle pink and was receding from the sharpie lines. The blistered area in the middle was more open and the surrounding skin was peeling a bit but I saw nothing but bright red tissue underneath. No pus, not a bit of drainage. Just healing skin.

The bandage, however, was not so lucky. It was soaking wet (possibly from the aloe goo) and covered in a rainbow of infection colors - greens, milky whites, and yellows. No smell but the aloe, thank goodness. But I looked at it in horror and couldn't believe that had all been in my child's body. Her body, yes, but thank God not her blood. Not yet.

Maybe I've been too nonchalant about her cuts and scrapes in the past. In an effort to make a tough little warrior who doesn't come crying to her mother with every stubbed toe, I might have glossed over the fact that she is still young with a developing immune system and we live in a world full of nasty invisible things. I will still let her stand up and brush off a hurt when she falls, but next time she bleeds I will make her pause from her playing to clean and cover the area. Soap, water, and Calendula if nothing else.

I truly believe my aloe plant did most of the good work in drawing out the infection and healing the underlying tissue. Other than the hydrogen peroxide and bactroban (even though hydrogen peroxide is a naturally occurring compound in the body), everything I used on her was natural. I'm not a super hippie type mother and I am a medical professional, but I think so many of the over the counter products we use in our day to day life could be equally substituted for things that were created and placed in the environment for our use. Animals know what plants to eat to cure different ailments, but humans are really bad at trusting nature after having been indoctrinated to run to the drugstore. Maybe more on this to come. For now I'm just beyond thankful that Lilah is fine. She never even knew anything could be wrong and that's the way it should be.

The infection

Ages since I last blogged, yeah yeah, don't judge me.

Lilah has been harder to keep up with every day. As per her normal 2 year old development, she has mood swings to rival a prepubescent girl. One moment my adorable daughter can be playing with me or reading a book. The next, she's grabbing my glasses off my face and smacking me with them, angry at a situation I'm not even aware of yet. We try our best to handle these things calmly as they arise, but some times are more difficult than others.

On Father's Day, Lilah was enjoying herself and running through the sprinkler with her cousins in the Ball's front yard. Kim, Dennis, and I were supervising the kids. I turned my head to answer Dennis and I saw his eyes get wide and he yelled, "Baby girl, you get back here!" At the same time, I heard Adam and Mike yell, "Lilah! Get out of the road!" I whipped my head around to see Lilah merrily frolicking in the middle of the street. I took off to get her, yelling at her to come back. She laughed at me and ran away. I was faster and caught up with her. I grabbed her by the arm, snatched her up, and shook her.
"You don't ever run away from your mama and you don't ever go in the road." By the time, she was crying hysterically and trying to wriggle away from me. I plopped her down on the steps for a time out. I was shaking. I told Kim and Dennis, "If I hadn't been so intent on getting her back here, I'd have spanked her butt." They both agreed they'd have spanked their kid.

The rest of the day went off without incident. She fell and scraped her knee at one point. There was a bit of blood and dirt, which I washed away. But Lilah is continually falling and scraping something so to be honest, I wasn't too concerned.

A week later, the scabbed knee was still scabbed and there was a tiny red area around the spot. I thought that curious, and made a mental note to keep checking on it.

Three days ago, the scab seemed to be more raised and a bit swollen. The reddish-pink area around it had gone from minimal and light to fire-engine red and larger. While (again) playing in the sprinkler, the scab softened and I brushed it away to see if there was any noticeable infection underneath. There wasn't (even after a bit of prodding until Lilah pushed me away). I told myself I would check on it in the morning.

By morning, it was a good inch larger on all sides, bright red, warm, and swollen. I kicked myself for bothering it in case I spread something. Still not a peep of complaint from Lilah and no fever (both pain and fever would have hinted at something systemic, not localized to the knee anymore). We went to the zoo and I worried about it on and off all day, reminding myself I would do some research when I got home.

When we got home and she was down for her nap, I did some digging. Apparently it was pretty common to get a staph infection in a wound like a scraped knee, staph being an opportunistic bastard. I had to wade through yahoo answer sites (where panicked mothers literally told the public and instructed their own children to open and dig out ANY wound and dump peroxide in it or you would get MRSA, have to go on IV antibiotics, and die anyway no matter what) to get to actual medical journals with helpful photos and treatment. I nearly had an anxiety attack while waiting to get a reasonable plan of care together for her. I snapped at Dano, cried, held the baby as if for the last time, and finally organized my thoughts. Lilah was unimpressed, but I held a warm compress to the area to bring the infection to the surface. I put hydrogen peroxide on it and let it bubble and boil. She squirmed and told me to stop it. I was relieved to have found some all natural remedies as well as the old medical stand-bys. I applied some bactroban ointment and Calendula salve. Calendula is a flower that is approved to treat wounds and inflammation in Germany. In America of course, if it doesn't come out of a lab it isn't worth the time it takes to grow the plant. I happen to have Calendula on backup supply at all times because it works beautifully and I don't have to worry about her eating it or something. The Calendula salve was applied liberally.

I then took a sharpie and traced the edges of the redness exactly. This way, I could track if the redness was spreading, reducing, or staying the same without the need to just "eyeball it". I had also nearly smacked myself in the head when I remembered the healing properties of aloe vera. It has been proven to heal hurts (even surgical wounds!) nearly twice as fast as those without aloe due to its vitamin E, C, and zinc. Also, it increases blood flow to the area to promote healing. Aloe alone has strong antibiotic properties. It reduces inflammation and speeds up the healing process. I have an aloe plant in the house, so I cut off a big fat leaf and slit it longways all the way to the top. Using a spoon, I scraped the gel (i.e. sticky, gooey slime) from the middle of the leaf and piled all that loveliness onto a 4x4. I bound that 4x4 loosely to her wound, taping it lightly in place with paper tape so she couldn't tug it loose. Lastly, she was allowed to suck on a vitamin c and zinc lozenge to boost her immune system and I gave her ibuprofen to reduce the swelling and any discomfort she wasn't vocalizing. She snuggled with us and watched Doctor Who with Tu (her new giant plush giraffe she named herself) and read stories until it was time for bed. My strong hope is that she wakes up in the morning happy, healthy, and with the redness decreasing from the sharpie border lines. I am trying hard not to be scared or worried. I am hoping she will heal herself with a little help and not need any more meds. I am hoping.

Just keep swimming

That seems to be the theme of the entire last 30 days. It has been stress piled on top of crisis, and the only thing holding our family together is, well, the family. I have had hard times in my life before where I've wanted to crawl into bed, pull my covers up over my head, and utterly refuse to come out until the bad times have gone away and the sun is shining merrily again. It seems like ever since Dano came into my life, I don't have those kinds of days anymore. I have this amazing sense of foundation. Instead of problems driving me to my knees in defeat and leaving me wondering miserably who I am in all of it, I am driven deeper into the arms of my husband and child. In comparison, the problems never seem as big when faced with the miracle that is the Alexanders. My crises still come, but now I tend to buckle down, set my jaw, and figure out a way through them. Some terrible things have gone on in my lifetime, and I've never been able to stop or change a single one of them. But I have noticed that I live through all of them and come out on the other side a different person. Sometimes it's a minute change in my existence; sometimes it's a drastic life change that leaves me reeling. Either way, I always make it and come out on the other side. This set of crises won't be any different.

In an effort to distract ourselves from the goings-on of this terrible weekend, Lilah and I went to the Farmer's Market with Rob after Dano made us bagels. We wandered around there for a bit (Lilah was on her best behavior this time). Lilah got to sample organic oatmeal, homemade gnocchi in basil sauce, creamery blueberry yogurt, fresh baked flaxseed bread, and local honey peanut butter. Rob got a cider slush. After trying it, he offered me a sip. "Here, you've got to try some." I took an enthusiastic drink.

Lilah was behind a few paces and I heard her start to chant, "Lilah tie? Lilah needs to tie. Please tie? PLEASE TIE, MAMA? PLEASE?" I had no idea what she was on about. I took another sip of slush and she started to cry. "Lilah wants to tie it, Mama." I suddenly realized two things simultaneously. 1) We needed to continue our work with consonant blend pronunciation. 2) Lilah wanted to try the slush and believed she would die if she couldn't. We all shared it on the ride home and I made it a point to tell Dano what this new phrase meant so as to avoid future meltdowns and confusion.

After Lilah's nap, we all went to Stoney Creek Park in Shelby Township to swim and have a picnic. Lilah loved the lake, having (naturally) no fear of older children, deeper water, seaweed, fish, or drowning. She utterly rebelled against floating in her nice, safe little lily pad boat, opting instead for the open sea and trying to yank her hand out of ours as often as possible. After hauling my spluttering daughter out from under the water for the 80th time, I reflected that perhaps we should cut back on her viewings of Ponyo and have a few earnest family discussions on the realities of little girls who are not, and had never been, fishes.

We grilled chicken pizzas by the water as some storm clouds rolled in. Lilah devoured her entire pizza in between playing on the nearby playground and running wildly about. Some other little girls were walking up the slides, and she was attempting to do the same and falling down. They told her (snottily in my opinion), "You can't do it. Only big girls can." Then they asked me to watch them do what my daughter was trying hard to mimic. I told them to zip it and go play somewhere else if they couldn't be nice to a baby. Dano disapproved of this decision. I disapproved of snotty 7 year olds.

We got Dairy Park on the way home and put Lilah to bed. She cuddled up to her stuffed Minion from Despicable Me and told me she loved me before falling asleep. I closed her bedroom door and it wasn't work, school, money, or life on my mind. It was how blessed I was to have such a lovely family and how I couldn't make it a single day without them.

Still 2

Terrible Two's. Yeah yeah yeah. When I saw that shrieking toddler in the grocery store, I always thought less about the child and more about the reaction of the parent(s). Embarrassment? Anger? Frustration? Did they give in? Did they yell? Did they punish the child?

Having grown up always around children and babies, I had become fairly good at ignoring tantrums and fits. Of course, that becomes worlds harder when it is your own precious little angel kicking and thrashing in public. In my head, I celebrate Lilah's fierce desire for autonomy and independence. Outwardly, it's getting harder and harder to deal with without dissolving into a screaming fit of my own.

We went to the Royal Oak Farmer's Market this morning. Lilah was dressed in a beautiful new white dress with green and blue flowers embroidered on it. She had white socks with green flowers, and a white sweater with green and blue buttons. I had laid out the outfit thinking we were taking some family photos later, but the weather intervened. Dano dressed her while I brushed my teeth and I smiled to myself thinking how gorgeous she would look in the sunshine in her pretty new dress. I came out of the bathroom and my eyes were accosted by red laser lights. Lilah was wearing her darling outfit and had completed the ensemble with neon pink and orange light up sandals. I immediately nabbed her to change her shoes, but Dano wouldn't let me.
"She picked those shoes out herself. You can't change them." I started grinding my teeth and we compromised. Dano agreed to let me change her shoes to her white ones for a couple of pictures (that never ended up happening anyway) but I was to leave them on for the time being.

While we were out, Lilah decided to morph into a small monster. She refused to hold hands while crossing the street, so one of us had to carry her at all times. She had a small powdered sugar donut, and smiled prettily for any passer-by. When it came time to walk around the Farmer's Market, she utterly refused to budge, crying and turning into a jelly fish when one of us attempted to hold her. I told her if she didn't stop carrying on, she would get a time out right there. She sat down on the concrete, kicked both feet out in front of her, tossed her head back and howled. Dano and I looked at each other. I'm sure I looked like I wanted to throw my head back and howl right along with her. She looked fairly comical in her angelic outfit, neon light up shoes, tear-streaked face, and head in her hands sitting on the ground in the middle of the Farmer's Market. Thankfully we could barely hear her over the sounds of the market. I picked her up and plopped her little butt in the closest chair.
"You can come out when you stop your screaming." She smacked herself in the chest and tore out some of her hair.
Seconds later. "Gonna get down now, Mama." And she took leave of the seat. I plopped her right back in it. She shrieked some more. People were aware and watching at that point. I turned my back to her. Normally I walk out of the room when she's in time out, but I couldn't very well walk out of the Farmer's Market, and if anyone tried to kidnap her I figured I would hear her screams getting more distant. After a couple minutes she stopped, so she was allowed to get down. She even let me carry her without incident.

We went to lunch instead of going for pictures, due to an impending thunderstorm. Lilah chose to throw her fork at Dano, shove her plate away ("Not gonna eat the noodles"), try to wriggle down, and all manner of nonsense. Dano took her outside for a timeout at one point. We ate as fast as we could and took her home for a nap. At one point of her tearing around the restaurant with her head thrown back, laughing maniacally, a waitress said, "Aww, isn't she cute. Is she 2?" It's like people just inherently know. She's a bundle of energy and curiosity. Exactly like the Decemberists' lyric - "All fiery Irish, clip and curl. All brine and piss and vinegar" wrapped up in a 33 inch tall child.

The only question I have is, "When does it stop?"

Jabbering away

Lilah went with Dano, Rob, and me to Royal Oak today to get lunch and mill about. It was a blustery 70 degree day. She wore a new pink dress and pink and green flip flops. She was very excited and kept saying, "New shoes! Pretty new dress!"

We went to Pronto's. Ironically, the food generally takes a minute there. This is all right with Lilah, as there is a bakery up front with displays of all manner of treats in glass cases. She took her shoes off and handed them to me as soon as we got there. "Here, Mama. Do you want it?" When she first started asking this particular question, I would sometimes reply no. No, I did not want that banana peel. No, I did not want that piece of trash. It became rapidly apparent that "No" was not an appropriate answer to the question.
"Do you want it?"
"No thanks."
"...Here. Here you go. Say thank you."
"...Thank you?"
"You're welcome, Mama."

I graciously accepted the shoes and Lilah said, "All done." I let her get down and prance around, as the place was nearly empty. I told her to go to the big window in front and look outside. She instead chose to make a beeline to the table full of cakes in the middle of the room. Dano steered her toward the desserts that were safely housed behind glass. She discussed all the ones she would like to eat with him while Rob and I chatted at the table.
Lilah ate everything placed in front of her. A grilled chicken sandwich, pickle, fries, onion ring, lettuce slice, chip, slice of tomato, bacon, cheese. I told her she could have literally anything she wanted for dessert after seeing her eat a slice of lettuce. She normally shuns all raw vegetables. After we were done there, Rob and I walked Lilah to Coldstone while Dano perused through books at Barnes and Noble. Lilah got a strawberry-banana-mango sorbet with sprinkles. She was feeling particularly lovey today. She kept reaching for my hand. "Wanna hold your hand, Mama." Sometimes she'd just stop and reach her arms up. "Wanna hooold you Mamaaaa!" I never get to hold my baby anymore, so I didn't mind carrying her around Royal Oak.
In Barnes and Noble, she played trains and ate her ice cream. She asked everyone she came into contact with their names, and generally had a good time.
I'm amazed every day at how fun, vocal, and coherent she is for being just barely 2 years old. Nothing extraordinary happened today. It was just a normal day for the family. Time spent having fun with each other and friends. I remarked at lunch, "She looks like a person today. I wish she'd knock it off."

Two Nights

Currently, I am writing this with a pressure bandage on my right anticubital space. My head is a little floaty from giving blood today and I have a large to-do list looming before me. In an effort to evade this, I thought I would blog about the horrific nature of the past two days.

Monday night, I went to Rob's house after work to watch a movie. I left around 2ish and came home to a sleeping Dano. I wasn't too worried about the time. We both had Tuesday off. I roused him to brush his teeth and come upstairs. I put on pajamas, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and sleepily climbed the staircase. I always check on Lilah after I get home from work, so I sneaked into her room and crept up to the crib. There was an odd smell in the room, and I noticed the window was open. It smelled like macaroni and cheese, or sour milk. Maybe both. I rolled my eyes and assumed there was some godforsaken animal outside that had gotten into the garbage. As I got close to the crib, I noticed she was wearing only a t shirt. I picked her up to change her into warmer pajamas and realized three things simultaneously as she nuzzled into my neck and said, "Hi, Mama." 1) I was standing in something wet. 2) Lilah's hair and clothes were wet. 3) The smell was coming from Lilah. Immediately I thought she'd had a bad diaper explosion, so I flipped on the light. What I saw made me reel. It was like a battle scene from a movie. It was carnage. Her crib was covered in vomit, and she had apparently being going for distance, since it made it out of the crib and onto the floor (under my feet, of course). Her hair, clothes, face, and now my socks, shoulder, tank top, and arms were coated. I switched into nurse mode out of self-preservation.

I carried her downstairs and started a hot bath. I took her temperature as she smiled sleepily up at me. Nothing. I stripped her down and plopped her in the tub. She splashed and played while Dano started her bedding in the washer. I wrapped her up in a towel and got her in warm pajamas. Dano fetched her some diluted juice. She kept saying, "I'm hungry, Mama!" I wasn't comfortable enough to give her anything but fluids. We put her in bed with us and Dano brought her a host of stuffed animals at her request. Her bear, frog, penguin, and worm all flocked to her side as she watched Aladdin and snuggled with me. Her bedding was clean and dry by the time the movie was over at 5AM. She had since decided it was playtime and was bounding all over the bed. Any subsequent attempts to snuggle were met with impatient wriggles and, "Bye, see ya!" In talking it over with Dano, we realized that she had eaten mac and cheese for lunch and a grilled cheese for dinner. Though she normally tolerates small amounts of cheese, this was too much for our lactose intolerant little daughter. We tucked her back in her bed and she slept until her normal wake up time - 8AM.

I went through Tuesday like a robot. I snatched sleep when I could in 20 minute intervals here and there. She went to sleep at 9 Tuesday night. By then I was so wired on iced Sidamo that Dano fell asleep at 11 and I stayed up until 1AM. Still very much awake, I decided to try getting into bed to coax tiredness. I sneaked once again into Lilah's room to make sure she hadn't randomly thrown up again. No vomit. However, she did sit straight up, look at me, and start shrieking at the top of her tiny lungs. Normally if she cries at night, we put her in bed with us until she calms down, after which she goes back in her crib for the night with no complaints. However, for whatever reason on this particular Tuesday night, she chose to break routine.

Dano put her back in bed. She screamed like she was being stabbed. I got her out and plopped her in bed with me. She played and giggled. This back and forth went on until 4:30. Finally I told Dano (who was about delirious and had class at 9AM) to let her cry a few minutes. After 10 minutes of alternating between sobbing pitifully and ear piercing shrieking, I started crying. I was beyond exhausted, and I firmly believe in not letting small children cry. At 2, if she was crying this long and hard, we had to be missing something. I felt helpless and upset. Crying was all I could do. I had nothing left. Dano lost his temper and went in there. "Stop it right this minute, Lilah Rose. Just stop it. You're making your mama cry." She cried even harder, and I couldn't do it anymore. I got out of bed without grabbing my glasses or sweater or anything. I just had on a thin t shirt and pants. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I took her from Dano and she clung to my neck. She stopped crying instantly but still sobbed raggedly into my neck. Dano left to cool down. I was crying in Lilah's place. I held her and said, "Lilah, you have to sleep. Mama and Daddy have to sleep. You have to calm down and stop crying." She held me tighter and said, "Want Mama." I laid her down in her crib and she started screaming again. I sat next to her crib and put one hand on her chest and one on her head to stroke her hair. It took a few minutes before she would stop crying and saying, "C'mere". She just stared at me and hiccuped, convinced I was leaving. I was shivering from cold and emotions and exhaustion. I felt void and helpless. Eyes closed, I whispered, "Please, Ada." (my silly, childish name for God. It means Daddy.)

Something odd happened at that point. I felt something inside me, be it spirit or soul or what have you, rally all the remaining sanity and energy I had. I was a powerful woman who had created the tiny, distraught life in the crib in front of me. She feeds off my emotion constantly, and I was going to fill her with good ones. I had to transfer my energy to her. With a hand on her head and a hand on her heart, I closed my eyes and meditated.
Peace. Peace to my child. Calm mind, tranquil dreams, still waters, and serenity. Security, warmth, love, and all good feelings. Contentedness. Stillness. Quiet thoughts. Quiet heart. Freedom from worry and fear. Peace.
I willed all my warmth - physical and emotional - into my baby as her eyes drifted closed. I felt a shift, a transfer. I felt my benediction for my daughter trickle down like water over her, like the sound of rain. I felt a different kind of exhaustion. The kind that felt as if my spirit had wrapped its velvet wings around my daughter and encompassed her with all of my good thoughts and love. On a night where I had literally nothing left to give, I had the ability as a woman, a mother, and a healer to calm and comfort and protect. It rose up inside me from a place I didn't know existed before I conceived my daughter. It was a well of power and sacrement. I stayed with her until the birds started singing to greet the day and the sunlight was just starting to touch the edges of the night sky. Somewhere unbidden from the back of my depleted mind, this passage rose to the surface.
In the beginning, Gods created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the spirits of Gods were hovering over the waters.
Then Gods said, "Let us make man in our image, in our likeness.
So Gods created man in their own image.
In the image of Gods, they created him.
Male and female, they created them.
Gods saw all they had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning - the 6th day.

"He hit me, Mama."

Dano and I have been discussing a certain characteristic of Lilah's lately.

Fact 1) Most parents think their child(ren) to be the most beautiful, special, and talented human(s) ever to grace the earth.
Fact 2) All children are special in their own way. Even exceptionally brilliant ones usually just have one area of expertise.
Fact 3) I really believe Lilah to have an area of life where she excels, leaving her baby companions in the dust.

Lilah has shown herself to be exceptional in the area of observing and understanding social cues and situations. She can sum up another human being in a few glances. Take the following situation that has begun to spring up more and more lately.

I am naturally the most protective caregiver Lilah has. I'm constantly scanning her environment to make sure she is safe and threatened by nothing. She abuses this and runs to me with every little thing, so I'm careful to wait for her to cry over a stubbed toe or scraped knee before reacting. I was at Chazzanos the other day having  a coffee when Lilah ran to Rob and asked him for something. I want to say it was a pen after I told her no. Rob said, "No. Sorry, Lilah," in a very conversational tone of voice. Lilah ran to me and threw herself into my arms, whimpering. I held her and patted her on the back, confused. Maybe Rob had hurt her feelings?
In a ragged sob, Lilah said, "He hit me, Mama." I almost dropped her. She then began to snicker at Rob before burying her face in my neck and fake-crying some more.
I said, "Lilah Rose, he did no such thing," and set her down on the floor. I couldn't believe she would play the people around her like that.

Yesterday Dano denied her some food item she was coveting, it being too close to a meal time. She sobbed and ran to me, hand dramatically thrown over her mouth to stifle the feigned heartbreak. "C'mere, Mama!" Arms outstretched, little fingers motioning for me to come closer. I picked her up. "Daddy hurt me." I rolled my eyes. How do I teach a 2 year old not to lie? Yes, he probably hurt her feelings but this was overkill. Not to mention, I didn't believe for one second my little daughter was alluding to emotional wrongs.
"Daddy didn't hurt you, Lilah. He told you no." She laid  her head down on my shoulder and chuckled mockingly at Dano.

Today, she was playing on her own with something while I ate my breakfast and drank coffee. After becoming frustrated with one of her toys for not cooperating, she came crying to me and held her arms up. "Hurt me, Mama." I took a deep breath.
"Lilah Rose, nobody hurt you. You were the only one in there." She considered this carefully, then shook her head.
"Yiyah pushed me, Mama."

God save us when she's 16. She's a few steps ahead of me already.

"I'm 6!"

Today, Lilah Rose officially turned 2 years old. If you ask her how old she is, chances are she will still reply with, "I'm 6!"

We woke up at 8, got ready to go, and went to get annual physicals. Lilah was really good. She stood at the door of the office and greeted everyone who came in. "Hi. Name?" To everyone  who walked in the door. When we went back to the exam room, Lilah wandered up and down the halls when they got our height and weight. I went to the procedure area and had to put a gown on for an EKG. Lilah sat on top of me attempting to open my gown in the front and pulling the stickers and wires off my body. During it, she sat on my belly and bounced. "Hiiiiii Mamaaaa!" We went back to the exam room and I sat on the table in a gown. She sat on the step below me with a bucket of freeze-dried apples and Honey Nut Cheerios. When the doctor came in, she started acting like a maniac. She grabbed my bra and started swinging it around her head like a crazy person, then, "Throw it doooown!" and threw it to the floor. The doctor asked how old she was, and I told him she was 2 today.
"How old are you, little girl?"
"I'm 6!"
I got a finger stick after my exam. Lilah laughed when they pricked me, and said, "Blood, Mama!" She laughed while they milked my finger.
"Lilah, your lack of sympathy is startling." She laughed some more. I went to get a pedicure with Kim afterwards, which was lovely. My toenails are now blue and pretty. I picked Lilah up and we went to Buddy's Pizza with Kim, Erin, and Ephraim. We had delicious fried zucchini, cauliflower, and mushrooms, then a margherita pizza with blackened chicken.
After that, we went to Treat Dreams in Ferndale. They're a bakery and microcreamery. I got dark chocolate ice cream with chocolate chips and got Dano a lemon poppy seed ice cream. Lilah ended up covered in ice cream and chewing on a sugar cone. She went immediately down for a nap when we got home.

At one point while we were out, I kissed Lilah's little lips and said, "2 years ago today, I was holding you for the first time. Did you know you used to live inside me?" She considered this, then pushed my face away.
"All done, Mama."

It's so strange to me that I have been a mother for 2 years, and 10 months before that I was carrying a tiny embryo that evolved to be my child. Every day she grows more beautiful and special to me. Even on days where I'm biting my lip to keep from losing my patience or want to wring her tiny neck for screeching or being sassy, I would still do anything for her. She's so friendly and personable, and she truly loves the people in her life. She brings joy and smiles to almost everyone she meets. I love her with all my heart and I can't wait to see the vibrant, wonderful person she'll be in years to come.

2nd Birthday Party

Yesterday was the long-awaited 2nd Birthday Party for Miss Lilah Rose Marie Alexander.

I had planned a Backyard Bug themed party. Lilah and I spent way too many hours 2 weeks ago on the invitations. She finger painted a yellow bumblebee on the front and I wrote out "Have you heard the Buzz?" Inside was a lady bug and you moved the wings aside to see the party information. They were cute, and we continued our tradition of making all her cards and invitations.

On Monday night at work, I made a 5-Day To-Do list. I figured if I broke up all my tasks over almost a week, I would be exponentially less likely to freak out.

On Tuesday, Lilah and I got up to have a girl's day. We got a coffee and cocoa and started shopping. Kimberly had made Lilah's birthday dress, so that was one less thing I had to take care of. We went to Michael's and I bought her birthday presents there. She got a rake, gardening bag with tools, gloves, wildflower seeds a watering can, and a frog planter. For party favors, we picked out little ceramic pots with soil and forget-me-nots or burning loves, and pastel tin pails with soil and either sunflowers, daisies, or coneflowers. We got her table cloth (green and white checkered) and some purple platters with white and green butterflies for serving food. In the same plaza, we drove to a party supply store to get pink plates and napkins, green cups, and yellow and orange balloons. Lilah thought she was hot stuff because she got to sit in the front seat to cross the parking lot. We went to Plato's Closet (also same plaza) and I bought a new outfit for the party. Afterward, we went to Red Robin for lunch. Lilah got a turkey burger and oranges and a lemonade. She had been fun and adorable all day, but she was getting sleepy during lunch. She had a mouth full and kept saying, "Kisses!" and "I love you!" I had to eat with one arm around her because she was feeling so snuggly. We were wrapping up and she kissed me and said, "I just...I just love you. So much." I almost cried. It's amazing to hear her emotions now, especially ones as precious as that. We got her some balloons from Red Robin and went home to nap her.

Wednesday I cleaned the house and got a hair cut. Really cleaned it. Everything was organised, de-cluttered, and scrubbed. Rob came over that night and we made, dyed, and rolled out fondant. We started the process that was her cake - a garden with bugs, mushrooms, and flowers. I had a vision of amazingness in my head and I wasn't sure my insignificant skill with baking and unimpressive creative talents were up for the job. Rob made some awesome bumblebees and mushrooms and I knocked out a butterfly and snail, and that was all we had energy for (that task alone took hours). We parted ways with hands dyed crazy colors and backs sore from being bent over a table covered in fondant.

Thursday I went to Meijer and bought all the food for her party. I was planning mini-burgers, humus and salsa served in green peppers made to look like grasshoppers with chips and veggies, ladybug bruschetta, Irish soda bread, fruit salad, dirt sundaes (chocolate ice cream with crushed Oreos and gummy worms), and cake. I rolled and dyed more bugs in every spare minute I could find.

Friday morning I woke up early to start the cake. I was truly afraid of it. Ephraim was over and helped me put together a vanilla-cinnamon cake (it tasted almost like a spice cake only more dense like a birthday cake, less spongy). I made more bugs and flowers while it baked. I made a fresh raspberry-lemon frosting and left it all to cool and set while I went to work. Dano started some of the decorating preparations and I left for work a few minutes early to collect my thoughts and have a coffee at Chazzanos (read as "not have a breakdown"). Rob kept offering to help wherever I needed it, as did Kim. I kindly rejected all offers, due to a trifecta of an intensely stubborn and independent streak, overactive guilt complex in accepting help from others and inconveniencing them, and ingrained belief that nothing is no-strings attached. Rob kept telling me everything would be fine and I just needed to breathe. At work, he texted to see if I wanted moral support after I got home and finished my prep, which I more than happily accepted. Dano cleaned a bit and decorated while I rolled out the fondant to cover the cake and started cutting fondant blades of grass to go around the circumference of the cake. After 20 minutes of painfully slow progress, Rob sneakily asked if he could offer a suggestion while still letting me do everything. Moments later, we were working in tandem with the fondant. It took less than an hour to finish the cake. It would have taken me at least 2; I'm guessing more. We finished all the prep possible and I was in bed by 2AM.

7AM came too early and I was up setting the table and finishing the food. Lilah woke up incoherently upset and needy, so she was sent off to play with Auntie Kim, cousins, and Papa Dennis so I could accomplish what I needed to. Erin showed up about an hour early while Dano was at the florist getting flowers for Lilah, a tradition that started last year with 6 white roses and a purple lily. This year it was an assortment of spring flowers and 2 yellow lilies. Erin scooped ice cream into cups, crushed Oreos, and tossed in gummy worms. Mellisa came early as well and formed hamburger patties while I cooked them. Dano came home and decorated the dining room. I set the table. Rob came armed with coffee and several French presses and set to work making coffee. More people trickled in. Introductions were made. Piles of presents started to form. Kim brought Lilah back and I dressed her in her party dress and tights. I caught Mellisa wiping down counters and neatening up. Erin helped keep the kids entertained. Lilah kicked balloons, shrieked happily, ate many plates of food, and had a lovely time. I went from group to group of people visiting and generally overseeing.

Before I knew what was going on, her party was in full swing and I was happy and relaxed. I frequently checked on the cake. Finally I told Rob that the structural integrity of the fondant had been severely compromised and it was time to eat it before it died. I had barely turned around when people entered the kitchen with arms laden with food. Things were put in Tupperware or packed away for later consumption. All I really had to do was worry about Lilah. Dano lit her candles and we sang happy birthday to her. She had the sweetest, most pleased little smile on her face. She utterly failed at blowing out her candles, and as soon as the flames were out (with help from Daddy and EJ) she grabbed a fistful of fondant bumblebee and set to work. She kept grabbing bugs, as did her cousins. It was physically painful to watch that cake get destroyed.

She opened her presents after the cake was decimated. My aunt and uncle got her two beautiful books, a lady bug dress, and pajamas. Mellisa got her a little purse with bracelets and a cute green rain coat. Nicola got her a pair of pants and two spring shirts. Rob got her a set of markers that could only color on the special paper they came with and a glow worm toy she fell instantly head over heels in love with. Erin got her a colorful dress. Kim, Adam, and the boys got her a pink piggy bank and a picnic table (Lilah loves all manner of small furniture) that can also be a sand and water table. Bob and Genevieve got her two adorable sun dresses, a knitted purple hat, and a gift card for pet supplies for our puppy-to-be. She got many cards, hugs, and lots of love from people who adore her.

People left one by one with thank yous from us and Lilah. I looked around the house after it had quieted down and expected it to be a total disaster. Other than her presents and lots of tissue paper, I saw that food had been put away, counters and tables had been wiped down, and boxes and bags had been stacked and set aside. I was blown away, humbled, and touched by the group of people who loved my child and had come together to make that day a special one for her and a non-stressful one for me. They helped without asking what I needed. Just saw a need and took care of it. I had never really felt like that before. Like part of a community.

Rob and Genevieve stayed and had dinner with us. We got take out from Star of India, drank beers and mead, and played Apples to Apples after Lilah finally collapsed for the night. We walked down the street to see the supermoon. Gen went to pick up Bob from work. He had stabbed his hand with a knife and couldn't work because his glove was filling with blood. She brought him back to the house and I cleaned, treated, and dressed the wound. He kept peeking at it and saying it looked like a mouse vagina. I told him if he didn't stop fooling with it I'd put bacon in his mouth while he slept (he's a strict vegan). He stopped. I fell asleep on the couch and eventually made it up to my bed and passed out, completely exhausted but feeling accomplished, happy, and loved by so many more people than I had ever thought possible. At that moment, I felt like my life couldn't get any closer to what I wanted it to be.

Loss and gain

I experienced the first personal death in my life this week. My grandmother hasn't been well for the past few years. She'd been hanging on to her independence, fighting tooth and nail for every single personal freedom she could keep. Finally last summer, her care got to be more than my aunt (her oldest child) could provide for her at home and she was placed in a nursing facility. My grandmother (who bought a golf cart when her license got taken away and proceeded to drive, crash, and keep driving said cart until it pretty much fell apart) did not approve of this decision and thought she'd get better and go home. After time passed and she needed more and more help, she eventually accepted that she was there to stay. She got pneumonia a couple weeks ago and never recovered.

I was hindered every time I planned to go see her. Usually the cause was work or my family's health. Once Dano would get healthy, Lilah would relapse. When it became more apparent I wouldn't be likely to make it before she died, I called to try to talk to her. My cousins warned me that it took a lot of strength for her to talk, and she faded in and out of consciousness. They held the phone to her ear and told her who it was. "Hi, Grandma. I love you. You're on my mind all the time and I'm trying hard to get out to see you."
"Hi, honey. I love you. I love you." I choked up a little bit, and Lilah grabbed the phone out of my hand.
"Lilah's here too, Grandma. She says hello. Say hello, Li."
"I love you! Bye bye, Grandma. I love you." My cousin came back on the line and said she had faded back to sleep again. After I got off the phone, the the reality of the conversation hit me on two fronts. The first - that was plausibly the last conversation I would ever have with the only grandmother I have ever known. The second - what had gotten into Lilah Rose? She has only ever called Dano's mother "Grannie Annie". She met my grandma one time when she was 2 months old and hasn't seen her since. I have only talked to her on the phone. I got the weirdest feeling that Lilah knew more about the situation than I gave her credit for.

The funeral was today, and for reasons that don't need to go beyond my father just being who he is, I was the only member of my family to attend. None of my siblings or parents came. My father (after much coaxing) came up to see her, spent the day Sunday (mostly on his phone from various accounts I've been given) and left Monday. She died Tuesday morning and he couldn't spare the time from work (being self employed) to stay for the funeral. None of my cousins or aunts would ever say anything, but I felt a lot of weight on my shoulders being the only one from my family in attendance. Being introduced by my aunt with "This is my brother's oldest and her family," I felt like an unspoken question hung in the air.
"Well then? Where is your brother?"

During the service (for which we arrived 15 minutes late, due to an overturned semi on 96), we stood in the lobby and listened in case Lilah made noise. She insisted on bringing in Moo, Baa, Lalala. It's one of her favorite board books, and it didn't occur to me right away that my grandma had been the one to give her the book. I can chalk it up to one of the baby's other peculiarities in knowing more than she should, I suppose. I half-listened to the service about the departed being at peace, but mostly poured over the bulletin board with photos from Grandma's life, her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I saw photos of my dad with his family, my dad with us kids, my dad with me. I saw one of my grandma holding Lilah at 2 months old and a huge sob got caught in my throat.

We didn't get to know her well as kids because my mother didn't like her (did my mother like anyone?) and kept us from really interacting with her with at any opportunity she got. As an adult, I had gotten to know her as a loving, kind, strong-willed woman who loved her family. Loved me. Loved my daughter. I looked at those photos and felt regret and anger at what could have been. I looked around at my 5 adult cousins with their families all being strong for each other and their mother. I felt that sick feeling of abandonment that made each "This is Shelly's daughter" more of a slap in the face. It was the same feeling I had when I was in labor with Lilah. I had shrugged off the role of daughter years ago. In reality, it was less shrugged off and more ripped and torn off shred by shred like the dead skin after a sunburn. Sure, the skin underneath is tender and not mature enough to be exposed. Sure, it hurt like hell and sometimes bled. But it was dead and needed to be removed instead of hanging there, a complete mockery of what it represented. What was healthy had been burned until it died. No point in pretending. So to re-assume that role for today was angering and hurtful at times.

My emotions reached a boiling point as my grandmother was loaded into the hearse. Dano's hand had been on my shoulder the whole time. I couldn't tell if it was to comfort me, or if it was a silent reminder that no matter how broken I was, he was holding me together. At that moment, Lilah nuzzled into my neck and said, "Mama." Just to say it. Then she growled, "I love you!" I laughed even though my eyes were swimming. She reminded me of many vital facts all at once. Daughter wasn't a dirty word anymore. It was a benediction. My daughter was 25 pounds of redemption on two chubby, ever-moving legs. She was atonement personified. From the moment of her birth, she was healing the wounds in my soul that my parents heedlessly and repeatedly clawed open. It wasn't her job. They had nothing to do with her. But even now, she's sitting on my chest with crazy blonde hair and a yellow nightgown with green frogs. She's watching Despicable Me, but every now and then she'll lean her face down and say "Kiiiiiss!" and press her little lips to mine. Or come close and say, "Come here!" and give me a hug. These moment are the emotional equivalent to my soul giving my parents the finger. My daughter is a formula for healing that those horrible, selfish people will never get their talons into. She's everything that matters summed up in two words - Lilah Rose.