Wintertime

I can't remember the last time I blogged. I have spent nearly all of my free time knitting Christmas presents for people until my fingers ached. I have thought at least 12 times this week, "I should post something."

I volunteered in Lilah's classroom for their Holiday Party. I was really looking forward to it (even more so because my mother decided to pull some holiday shenanigans and make my life difficult for a week or so). Lilah and I made snowman cake pops to share. I more or less did as I was told by the other parents. It was interesting to me how the parent volunteers weren't really involved in classroom time. They assisted in crafts and snacks, but their primary function was to help set up, tear down, clean up, wash little hands.

Lilah Rose was unexpectedly and uncharacteristically emotional. She wasn't jealous of my time. In fact, she carried on seemingly unaware I was there but for the occasional comment to her teacher, "That's my mother." However, during any minor upheaval ("It's not time to play drums right now," "Can you please hand that back to her?" "Okay, it's clean up time now.") she burst into hysterical tears. The first time, I saw her teacher raise an eyebrow in surprise. Lilah removed herself from the classroom to sit on a step and cool down every time. They were actual tears and she took longer than usual to calm herself. I would go out and check on her, but she just said, "Go back and play with my friends, Mama." I was confused, embarrassed, and felt like I had ruined school for her. She'd never acted like that before. I was painfully aware that she was the only kid who chose to lie down, rather than sit Indian-style (she can't) during circle time. In between meltdowns she was happy and made several crafts. The other children were sweethearts. All very smart and cute. I heard lots of interesting things.
"My daddy doesn't wash my hands. He only uses sanitizer and Mommy yells at him cuz it's not real soap."
"Jewish kids don't get stockings."
"I want a candy cane with only red on it."
"This gingerbread house needs more house." This one was my fault. The craft was making gingerbread houses out of graham crackers and frosting. I had a really hard time assembling these with the kids, so I sort of made gingerbread teepee/tent things. Much more sturdy. Also faster.

There was a birthday celebration and dinosaur cupcakes. At one point, the children had dance time and I saw the teacher get down to Lilah's level to talk to her. "I like how excited you are to hold his hand, but when he yells 'Ow ow ow!', that means you're holding too hard." Words to live by. I really took for granted a lot of the things she was learning there. Putting colored bears in a red-blue-red pattern is a math skill. Reading the daily message on the board from right to left is a literacy skill. Learning to respect the feelings and needs of your peers is a life skill. Dressing a bear for the weather today is a practical thinking skill. Someone at some point taught us to count in sequence and read from right to left. Lilah is even starting to point out when the stoplight turns green, or if we're turning right or left in the car. Brainless things we take for granted were the building blocks of our whole lives and some preschool teacher somewhere had to get it ingrained in our tiny brains. Mrs. Fuller made it a point several times to tell me that Lilah Rose never acts the way she had today and that it's really common when the moms get in the classroom. Dano pointed out later that school is Lilah's first territory and I was in it, not at work or home or the zoo - all shared spaces. It was hers and she didn't know how to react.

After the dancing, a little boy came over to me and asked for help washing his hands. While helping him get in between fingers, I noticed his palms were covered in small red spots. I cringed inwardly, knowing those telltale spots anywhere. Hand, foot, and mouth disease. I also noted that he had a clear runny nose (well, what kid in winter doesn't) and had JUST been holding hands with Lilah Rose. "Maybe he's over being contagious," said the nurse who knows better to herself. Either way, the damage had been done so I resolved not to tell his mother unless Lilah actually got sick. "Which she probably won't."

Christmas was lovely. My brother came from Tennessee and spent the week. My in-laws were here from Chicago. Lilah spent most of the time confined to the house with Hand, foot and mouth. At first she just complained throughout Friday, "Mother, there's a fever in my throat." Despite her throat being a tad pink, there were no other symptoms. On Saturday, I brought a strep test home from work since the doctor on call told me to text her if Lilah was positive so she could phone in antibiotics. I opted for swabbing her while she was asleep (#mistake). Her mouth was open a bit, so I swabbed her throat and tonsils. She sat straight up in bed, holding her mouth and screaming. I ran the test which was decidedly negative. During the screaming, her mouth was open very wide and I got a glimpse of all the mouth ulcers that come with that lovely virus. So she slept a lot and consumed nothing but yogurt and liquids for 3 days before she was feeling better.

On Christmas Eve, she and I watched Muppet Christmas Carol with Nick and snuggled. I finished our Advent story by Madeleine L'Engel and read her "Twas the Night Before Christmas" poem. She laughed through it, thinking it was about Uncle Nick, as it never refers to Santa Claus by any name other than Nicholas. I read her St Luke so she'd be well-rounded, and she tolerated it. She says that Santa Claus is a nice guy and fun to look at, but pretend. She says the story of the Christ Child is pretend because babies aren't born in barns, only hospitals. The weird part of raising your kid in world religions but not actually participating in any of them is that it throws a lot of preconceived notions to the wind. I used to assume that every little girl wanted to grow up to marry a prince, that all children believed in Santa and God from birth, and that they craved the mythos of religion for the comfort of something absolute. We celebrate and talk about all religious holidays around the world. Lilah is as at home in a church as she is watching the Japanese children in Miyazaki films pray to a roadside shrine for permission to take shelter there from a rain shower. She will happily chirp at you that marriage is when you get older and want to be with your best friend forever, and that when she gets older, she will marry a boyfriend or a girlfriend. The explanations of religious ritual we have given her make her visibly uneasy. Taken out of romantic context, a magically conceived baby that was put in the world by an all-powerful being for the sole purpose of being brutally murdered because we're inherently bad, well, it is unsettling. We don't use an Elf on a Shelf for the same reason we don't adhere to one particular religion. I want Lilah Rose to be good because it's expected of her, and because she is good. The French tell their children to be sage, not to be good. Be wise, be appropriate for the situation. Be smart about what you're doing. By telling our kids to be good, we're implying that it's their nature to be otherwise. I don't want her to be only good because there is someone watching, be it Elf or Almighty. I also want her to feel safe being not so good. I remember fearing demons and hell as a child. It did not do me any good. She steps out of the boundaries we've created for her knowing that our love doesn't change when she does. She also steps out fully aware of the consequences that wait for her. There's a security in that. Lilah Rose is the kid that demands to see the empty bag when you tell her the M&Ms are all gone. Religion might not work for her. If Jesus' own disciples who walked and lived with him demanded to see and touch him to believe he was really there, I think that same deity will cut us the same deal.

New Years was spent in Chicago. This is getting to be a tradition I really enjoy. It's so restful. Grannie Annie was in Connecticut this year, but Lilah got plenty of Grandpa time. Grandpa was also sick (Hand, foot, and mouth!) so he did not accompany us to the aquarium. I (foolishly) chose not to bring a coat, since we were getting dropped off at the door. The door proved to be locked unless you had a ticket in your hand already. I was directed to a 30 minute line on breezy, 15 degree Lake Michigan. By the time we actually got in, my lips were blue and I couldn't stop shaking. We took a breather so I could recover from hypothermia before sneaking off to see the baby beluga (you have to pay extra to see anything but crappy fish but no one actually checks wristbands so we just wander). She was 4 months old, chubby, clumsy and adorable. The adults did tricks, waved tails, shook flippers, and sang with their trainers. The baby just ambled along and ran into stuff. We also sneaked into the basement reef exhibit for fun with sharks and stingrays.

New Year's Eve, Lilah and I had lunch at the American Girl Place and did some shopping downtown. It's always so special to sit there dressed up having a fancy lunch with Lilah and her doll. We even got a table overlooking the city this time. There was a park with horse-drawn carriages below us and snow fell while we ate and sipped our pink lemonades. We got picked up and dove into the car before the taxis could honk at us to get a move on. It was the perfect combination of relaxing and busy.

Well I feel this is quite long enough. I'll try to update again before too long so next time it isn't so long. Hopefully everyone had amazing holidays.