At a loss

It's been a rough couple of weeks. Dano headed back to class, which is always hard on Lilah Rose. Since we were put on this earth to attend her needs, wait on her hand and foot, entertain, feed, clothe, and nurture her, we have no business pursuing higher education. Last semester, she started slapping me for no reason. We nipped that in the bud pretty quickly and emerged victorious. This year was different.

We noticed gradually that Lilah had gone from 99% potty trained (with the occasional overnight accident) to wetting her pants frequently. Being the nurse that I am, I took a urine sample in to work and dipped it. It looked just fine. Accident upon accident. Laundry load after load. We tried everything. We make Lilah clean it up, take off her wet clothes, and put new clothes on. The doctors stressed the importance of making her take responsibility for the accident. We put her on the toilet frequently. She just smiled and chirped, "I'm done!" before hopping off 3 seconds later. More accidents. We were running out of clothes, towels, detergent, and patience. Mostly Dano. She didn't do it as much when I was home in the evenings. A coworker suggested taking her potty every half hour, to "catch" her before she got too engaged in playing and forgot to go. Dano did it religiously. Lilah revolted against being interrupted every 30 minutes to waste time on the toilet. "I just went!" On one of the 30-minute mornings, Lilah peed on the floor at the 15 minute mark. Dano is a saint for not losing it. One night I went in the bathroom to take a phone call, and when I came out, she was standing there, grinning.
"Her hands are dirty."
"Whose hands?"
"Eloise." Eloise is her doll.
"Why are her hands dirty?"
"Because I peed on them." And she had. She had taken her pants off to pee on her doll. I honestly thought about slapping her. She went through the drill of cleaning up, and I put everything (and Eloise) into the washer. She cried because it was dark in there and Eloise might be scared. I told her if she was scared, it was Lilah's fault. She cried harder. I took it a step further and told her if she ever peed on a doll again I'd give it away to her cousins forever. She sobbed. I felt no remorse. But at the same time, I felt out of control. Like a terrible mother. What kind of kid pees on toys and floors? Dirty kids. The oppressed and abused kids. Handicapped kids. Not mine.

I called the head nurse, who has successfully raised 3 children into adulthood and none of them are still having accidents. She mildly suggested it was a behavior issue. I scoffed a bit. "Well, what goes into her body and when it comes out, that's all she has control over in her world. And what can you do to stop her? Just totally ignore it and leave her alone. The more you push it, the more she'll push back." I had a hard time believing my 3 year old child could be that manipulative, but I suggested it to Dano. The very next day she was still having accidents and he was still frustrated and losing his mind. Lilah's pediatrician came to ask me to do something for her, and I broached the subject.

"We're having a behavior problem."
"You? At home? Oh boy." I gave her the rundown of the past week, her laughing the entire time. "Well, she has you guys pretty much figured out. She's so clever. What you have to remember is, she's craftier than both of you. This is all about control, and right now she has it all." I realized how emotional Dano and Lilah would get at each other over it all and knew she was right. He had said earlier that day he'd never been more frustrated with her.
"So what should we do?"
"Do nothing. Put her back in a pull-up and when you're all three calm, tell her that you realize she's not ready to be a big girl and go on the potty and that's just fine. She can wear a pull-up until she's actually ready to be a big girl. And let it go. Don't talk about it. Don't do anything. Just leave it. 90% of the time, that solves the problem. The only time it doesn't is when the child is school-aged and the schools won't let them do that." I called Dano on lunch and talked to him. "You know, come to think of it, the time she peed on the floor 15 minutes after I took her to the  toilet, it was a few seconds after I told her she couldn't watch another episode of the Munsters." I facepalmed in the middle of the lunch room. Seriously? I had dedicated the past 4 years of my life to growing and nurturing this tiny life, giving it the best of me and her father, all so she could try to weasel her way into an additional episode of the fucking Munsters by peeing on the floor?

Dano put Lilah Rose in a pull-up and we put it all on the back burner. I came home that night and asked Dano how it had gone. Guess who had taken herself to the bathroom the entire day, taking her pull-up off to pee on the potty? Lilah Rose Marie.

Just some things

I've been noticing lately that Lilah is growing more social. For anyone who has been around her, it may seem obvious because she's been an endless string of chatter for 2 years. It seems different now, though. She really engages with people and has blossomed into a social butterfly. She is incredibly observant of the world and people around her and seems to be at ease in every situation.

We were at Found Sound, Ferndale's newest record shop, a few weeks ago. They had a projector playing the T.A.M.I Show (quite loudly) and chairs set up theater-style with an aisle down the middle. Lilah Rose meandered around the store, asking about various cut-outs and record sleeves. Then I blinked and she was gone. I had a momentary flash of panic before realizing she had only ventured 3 feet from my side. To the middle of the theater aisle. And was positioning herself in the middle row, sandwiched between couples trying to watch in peace. I debated hauling her out so as not to disturb them, but opted to see how Lilah did solo. Smokey Robinson and the Miracles took the stage. She watched for maybe 30 seconds, then was inspired to get down. As in groove and dance and stomp in time to the music. Between each song, she cheered wildly and clapped. People around her didn't know how to take her at first. This tiny person was standing on a chair swaying and clapping to James Brown and the Supremes and hollering her enthusiasm between songs. At one point, I truly believe she sensed the crowd's uncertainty. She looked around the room and assessed faces. One or two acted put out. A few nodded at her. Most didn't meet her eye and pretended to watch the movie. Some children might shrink down in their chairs, discouraged. Most would have lost interest after the first song. Not my kid. She kept scanning faces until she saw mine. She pointed to the screen, and made an exaggerated show of clapping and grooving to inform me she intended to continue to boogie. I smiled and gave her a thumb's up. Her face lit up and she went back to it. Only this time, apparently bolstered by my approval, she turned around in her chair and pointed to the couple behind her. "Hi. What are you doing?"
"Watching the movie."
"Me too. And I'm dancing." She paused, then commanded, "Clap."
"Oh, well we're just watching quietly now." Her little blue eyes narrowed.
"You clap. Like this." She showed them, slowly and condescendingly, how to clap. Emphasized every motion, just in case they'd never learned how. They gave in and clapped. "Yay! Now dance."
"No thanks, but you can keep dancing!" She sighed.
"No, you dance. Like this." She bopped up and down and weaved her head, hands in the air. Threw a twirl in for good measure." The couple looked at each other, then around to see who was watching, and shrugged. They started to bop a little. Lilah clapped her approval and pointed to the people across the aisle. In a loud whisper, "HEY! CLAP!" And the whole thing started over again. She had 75% of the small crowd engaged in some kind of action by the time Dano was finally done shopping at the other end of the store. The owners of the shop were laughing and taking pictures. I watched the entire display, alternating between wondering whether I should allow my 3 year old to force a group of adults to kowtow to her whims, and amusement that she was able to very confidently gain command over a small army in under 10 minutes.

It was the same today at the park. I was knitting on a bench and Lilah was playing on the structure when some more kids came to join her. They appeared to range in age from 4 to 1. The youngest had a parent in tow, and the older boys went off together to climb things. Lilah was thrilled to see other kids around, and wasted no time running over.
"Hi! I'm Lilah! Is that your baby?" She pointed to a girl probably hardly younger than she was. The man holding her hand nodded. "And you're her daddy?" He nodded again. "Okay! Bring your baby over here. She wants to play with me." He hesitated, then followed. Lilah played with the little girl, who was much more interested in playing alone. "Come up here, baby!"
"No." Lilah pointed at the man.
"Your baby said no. Put her up here." And he did. It went on that way until we left the park to go to dinner

We went to Found Sound after we ate, and as soon as we walked in, Lilah pulled me to the counter. "Hold me, Mama!" I picked her up, and she laid her head on my shoulder. "Hi. Do you have a gift card for my Daddy?" I was amazed. She and I had stopped in a week ago to ask about a gift card for Dano's birthday. A week ago. They didn't then, but had told us to check in again soon because they planned to have gift cards available. The employee tonight apologized and told her they didn't have them in yet.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Daddy's just going to buy records with real money instead." She sighed.
"Fiiine." She raised her hand and greeted the owner as he walked in. "Hey. What are you doing? Do you have your dinner? Are you going to eat it?" She pointed to bags in his arms that smelled strongly of Chinese takeout.
"Yep! Hi."
"Ok! See ya later!" I laughed and shrugged at him.
"Apparently you two are best buds, at this point."
"Well yeah, we are!" She tried to engage with a little girl her age in the shop, but the she hid behind her mom and wasn't having any of it. Lilah talked to her mom instead. "She's a baby, and you're her mama, and that's her daddy shopping like my daddy, and that's her...cousin?" Pointing to a little boy. Lilah couldn't have cared less that the little girl clearly wanted to be left alone. She was making a friend, come hell or high water.

We left Dano to his shopping and walked to Easy Like Sundae. We walked in and I handed her a full punch card. One free frozen yogurt! She walked over to the counter. "May I please have a cup for my frozen yogurt?" The employees "awww'd" in unison and one walked over and handed her a cup.
"Have you been here before? Do you know how it works?" Lilah nodded. Easy Like Sundae is one of her favorite haunts.
"Yes, ma'am." The "awwws" resounded yet again. We've been fine-tuning her manners lately. She chose her flavor and pulled the lever (her tiny mind was blown when she realized you could swirl two flavors). She chose her toppings (M&Ms, kiwi, blueberries, candy eyes, and whipped cream. Yum?) and handed the employee her punch card. "This was Daddy's card, but he gave it to me so he could shop." We took her treat outside to the white, beachy Adirondack chairs. I always sit to the right, Lilah to the left. We ate frozen yogurt and watched downtown Ferndale. She asked about the shops, cars, dogs, and people. Where they're going, what they're doing, do I think they have a cat. We sat until the sun started to go down and Dano came to take us home.

It just amazes me to watch her. It scares me a little and I have to keep such close tabs on her in public because of how friendly she is and how awful some people are. All in all though, she charms people to death within 5 minutes of meeting them. She isn't always so charming at home, but the more I see her in public and even thrust into brand new situations some kids would shy away from, I see how strong her little spirit is and how she finds her place no matter what. She's going to grow into such an amazing little lady. I'm so proud she's ours.

The times, they are a changin'

Since my last post, I have made more changes to our family life than I can count. I ended up having a bit of a melt down recently. In Meijer. While shopping for food. By myself. I might have gotten emotional. There's a possibility I threw some bread. Reports differ.

I was already feeling overwhelmed that day. Not only did I have to get two weeks worth of food on a very limited budget that month, but I also needed cleaning supplies. I was relieved at a huge sale going on for bread and buns. I got my all-natural cleaning supplies and started to gather my food. By the time I got the organic produce that I have to get (or I'm kept up at night with terrible thoughts of Lilah Rose contracting some terrible, pesticide-induced disease), my budget was strapped. The bread and buns were 10-for-10 dollars. I grabbed a loaf of Meijer brand whole wheat bread and a package of wheat buns. 2 dollars. I tossed them in the cart and they landed upside down. One word on the ingredients list. High fructose corn syrup. I lost my mind. I tried so hard. I just wanted to get good food for my family. I just wanted them to not die. I just wanted them to be healthy. I even picked the whole wheat bread. High fructose corn syrup. I might as well have been handing my daughter McDonalds, for all I was concerned. Over-processed, over-modified corn sugar has no place in my home. Unless I'm making popcorn balls. My eyes settled on the hotdogs in the cart. The healthy turkey dogs. One word. Second ingredient. High fructose corn syrup.

I picked the baked goods up and hurled them back on the shelves through tears. I took a minute to compose myself because I was truly on the verge of losing it. I threw the hotdogs too. I chose new bread products. It took 4 brands to find some that contained either sugar or honey as a sweetener AND whole grain flour AND a respectable amount of fiber. Each loaf was well over 3 dollars. Triple the price of the sale bread.

At home (and after purchasing no-nonsense hotdogs from Trader Joe's), I completed re-invented not only my grocery list, but my methods as well. I won't skimp on shoddy produce. I won't buy crappy meats. I won't buy chemicals to clean my house that can hurt my family. Where can I save? I went over my meals, my grocery lists, my food budget, my receipts, my free time, and what I threw away at the end of the week. Something had to change. I saw that my biggest expense (competing with meat and produce, amazingly) was baked goods. Breads, bagels, buns, garlic bread, baguettes. I'd made bread before but remembered it being tasty but impractical for sandwiches. I make homemade garlic bread, but bagels could only be made by professionals. Or could they? I googled "is it cost effective to bake your own bagels". Not only was the resounding answer "yes", but the search yielded many recipes for me to try. I did a similar search for bread. Same answer. If I could find the time to pull it off, I'd be baking for about 44 cents a batch/loaf rather than 3+ dollars. That's less than half the cost of the corn syrupy bread.

The first baking day was a Sunday, and I was nervous. In fact, I had a package of store bought buns, bagels, and bread sitting in the fridge as a backup so we wouldn't starve. Lilah Rose pulled up her "spot" (small red stool), I turned on Pandora, and we set to work. I opened the page I was looking for. "Are you reading a recipe, Mummy?" I nodded. "Are there eggs to crack?" I shook my head. She heaved a sigh. "Well. What can I do?" I measured out dry ingredients for her to mix together. I taught her (while teaching myself) how to proof yeast. We learned how to work dough differently for bagels than for bread. She screamed while kneading and ran to the bathroom. "My hands are dirty and sticky!"
"No daughter of mine is going to run off like a pantywaist! Get back here! Get your hands dirty!"
"Sweetheart, don't call Lilah a pantywaist." (From the other room)
"She started it."

We had a great morning together. We ended up cleaning the kitchen while we worked, so we finished with a clean kitchen and 15 cream puffs, 2 gorgeous loaves of whole grain Amish bread, and 8 golden New York-style bagels in 3 hours. We spent excellent quality time together. I didn't feel exhausted. Just proud. And in a way, relieved. I felt like I was actually taking care of my family instead of just shoveling food at them. One was 3 and one was a vacuum. They'd eat anything I put in front of them. The responsibility to give them something better was on me. I grew up canned vegetables and Hamburger Helper. There was nothing fresh or nutritious. Boxes of Chips Ahoy. Packages Little Debbie snack cakes. No one ever stayed healthy that way.

Since then, I've made all my baked goods at home. I knead doughs in between episodes of tv Dano and I watch when Lilah goes to sleep. I knit a few rows of the winter hats I'm making for the family while the formed bagel rounds rise for their final 10 minutes. I have tea parties with Lilah while the bread rises for its hour. My house smells like fresh bread. It smells like home. I've saved money and peace of mind. I spend a little of my time, but I'm working hard to budget it more wisely so I actually have more of it. After tasting my sandwiches at lunch, I'd never go back to the dry slices of cardboard we had before. And I haven't eaten out during lunch time in weeks. Even my dinner leftovers are much more satisfying.

As for other ways to save money, I don't just buy "what's on sale" and what looks good. I plan my menus for 7 days at a time, breakfast-lunch-dinner. 21 meals plus snacks. I base those meals around the weekly store ads and what's in season. I made tomato sauce and paste with home-grown tomatoes and herbs. Dark chocolate zucchini bread was made with home-grown zucchini. I buy from the store only what I need for the week. I ended up averaging a dollar a person per meal. Good cuts of beef for teriyaki beef and noodles. Home cooked bean and smoked ham soup. We are eating better than we ever have for cheaper than fast food. I've never felt more proud. I talked to one of the doctors today when he brought in bagels about how I make mine. "You cook, you bake, you knit hats. You really are something." And I kind of am. This is the person I always wanted to be. And I'm closer every day.

48 hour

Dano was gone from 5:30 Friday to 5:30 Sunday this weekend. Very few times since Lilah's debut have I had to handle her unassisted. I worried a bit because she usually listens better to Dano than to me. We had a pretty awesome weekend, all things considered

Friday night, we made grilled turkey and cheese sandwiches and headed out shopping. I figured the less we were in the house, the less we'd miss Dano. We went to Trader Joe's to stock up for the week. Between greeting and conversing with every store employee we encountered, Lilah managed to score mango tea, brown rice, an ice cream sandwich, and a sucker. She was a happy girl when we left to go to Holiday Market. The sucker was gone by the time we pulled in the parking lot. She spent the time between licks telling me that everyone liked her so much because she was such a good listener and the best helper. "I'm your girl, Mother." At Holiday, she sampled crackers with peach chipotle preserves. I was pleased she didn't fuss over the heat of the preserves. I thought it was just right. Another employee offered her a hunk of cocoa honey cake and asked her opinion. She nibbled and regarded it thoughtfully. "I think it's just fine." The baker laughed and said she was glad for that.

"You know, she can also have a free cookie if she'd like."
"Would you like a cookie Lilah?" She raised her eyebrow at me and gave me the "Duh," look. The baker handed her a sugar cookie. Lilah nibbled both out of each hand. She made friends with the manager at the liquor aisle while I gathered mojito supplies. We made our way home and read stories until bedtime.

Saturday morning, we gathered a couple of her cousins and headed to the park after breakfast. Lilah was the shark-monster and they ran from her. One point for bopping Lilah Rose with a ball, one point for each cousin tagged. The game ended Cousins 2, Lilah 1. Not too bad for 2 against 1. The rolled balls up the hill and ran back down. Lilah usually ended up head over heels in the grass. We went back to the house to eat shrimp pasta and watch Kiki's Delivery Service. Lilah napped, then we loaded up and headed to our friends' house for a barbecue. She played with their cats and dog while I visited and ate. It was really nice, but Lilah tried to pee twice and was too afraid to go on a big toilet. She refused to go in her pull-up, so I had to take her home. She took a baking soda bath after being out in the weeds and tall grass all day, then gladly went to bed. I sent Dano a short email telling him how thankful I was for everything he did around the house and for Lilah. I had seen how quickly dished and clothes piled up, plants wilted, the cat whinged for water, and all the other little things that went wrong on a daily basis.

This morning we went to breakfast with Kim and the boys at Pete's Place (my favorite Ferndale diner). Lilah and I went grocery shopping after that, then she actually got a nap on time. We played and snuggled all afternoon, then when the hottest part of the day passed we headed outside. During a bathroom break indoors, I came across a few old party balloons in a drawer and filled them with water. She had fun tossing them around the yard and was totally shocked when one burst at her feet. We spent the next 20 minutes popping the rest of them. Dripping and muddy, we fell on the grass laughing. I had a vision of how Dano's surprised face if he got out of the car and was pelted with water balloons. A tentative plan formed in my head. "Lilah Rose, do you want to get more balloons and try to kill Daddy?" Her face lit up. I knew he would be home in 20-30 minutes, and we were out of balloons. I grabbed my keys and some money and threw her in her carseat. She fussed at me that her buckles weren't tight enough, but we were only going a few blocks to CVS. We got out of the car and ran barefoot into the store, combing the summer aisles. We had to ask an employee. She pointed them out to us and Lilah felt the need to explain.

"They're for killing my dad." She ran them to the check out, slammed them on the counter, and shouted loudly, "Where is the lady? We gotta go!" A woman hurried to check us out. "They're for killing my dad." She laughed and examined the balloons.

"I didn't even know we had these. Huh..."
"Hurry! He's coming!" No one said a word about our bare feet. I drove home a breakneck 30 miles per hour and we raced to the kitchen to fill them assembly line-style. I filled and tied, she handled and bagged. We got the camera and headed to the front porch to plan our attack. We would aim for the head. No cars. Andy was off-limits, but Uncles Adam and Maxwell were fair game. We pretended the tree was Daddy.

"Aim for the head!" She threw with all her tiny might. It landed near the roots.
"I did it!"
"Okay, sweetie. Well done." She sat patiently(ish) to wait for the car to pull in. She nearly nailed the neighbors at one point but I stopped her. "That's not them!" When they finally did pull in, the attack was short-lived and I'm not sure who won. Uncles dipped into the bag of balloons. Andy did get a balloon to the chest, but it mostly got his car (Lilah gaped at this, someone else having broken two of the rules). She spent the rest of the evening snuggled on the couch with her dad, happy as can be. We decided he wasn't allowed to leave again anytime soon.

Life as usual

I'm actually thankful to report that there's nothing to report! Life has been pleasant, happy, and good. We stopped house-hunting, divorced our realtor, and focused on what matters - us.

I have a good balance (for now) going on between work, home, friends, me. One thing I've been repeatedly thankful for is my healthy, happy daughter. I heard one of the doctors talking about putting a 4 year old on a diet. A 4 year old. It blew my mind. An obese child. Every kid I know runs around all summer and wants to be outside come rain, hail, or snow. I watch Lilah gobble up carrots and hummus, broccoli, asparagus, basically any fruit, and gulp down water and coconut milk. Her appetite seems insatiable, but she eats like she moves - constantly. Don't get me wrong, my kid asks for cookies for breakfast and cake pops nearly every day of the week. The difference is, she doesn't actually get them. She's been denied suckers at the doctors' office (yes, the one I work at) for being naughty. She's thrown fits over desired cakes or cookies, but she still doesn't get them. As we speak, I'm watching her "sneak" around the corner (in full sight of me still) and scoop hummus out of the container she was asked to put away. Straight into her mouth. Our eyes meet.

"I'm just tasting it, Mama." Raised eyebrow. "Well...you said it was good for me." Touché, little bird.


We were eating dinner tonight and she started completely scarfing down her baked vegetable chips, so we made it into a teaching point.
"Are those good?"
"Yeah! I like them!"
"I'm glad, babe. It's good that you like them. But do you know what happens when we eat food we like really fast?"
"What, Mama?"
"We don't get to enjoy it. It goes straight down into our tummies and skips our tongue. And our tongue is what helps us taste food. So we eat it, but we don't enjoy it."
"I want to to enjoy my chips, Mama!"
"I do too. Let's practice slowing down, okay?" And we did. Took small bites, chewed well, swallowed. She beamed at me.
"It tastes better!" I smiled back. "Can I enjoy a cookie?" It's hard not to laugh when she tries so hard to be crafty.


While out and about, Lilah has been more often making use of what I've been telling her since she could speak. She asks questions faster than I can answer them, so I always tell her, "Tell me what you see." I like forcing her to observe the world around her. And she notices everything. In the car next to us today: "What's that girl doing, Mama?"
"Brushing her hair, it looks like."
"What kind of a girl is she?"
"I'm not sure, sweetheart. I don't know her. What kind of a girl does she look like to you?"
"A smart girl. You know why? She's a smart girl because she's makin' her boy drive." Sure enough, the male companion was driving. I'm not sure what that says in light of feminism, but she knows I dislike driving! I'm thankful every day for our wonderful family, our private rituals, and our happy summer evenings together. There's nothing terribly exciting going on lately, but after the "excitement" last summer, I'm happy to revel in the mundane.

Brave

Lilah Rose and I had a mother-daughter-date. We have been giddily looking forward to the premier of Brave for over a month. Dano opted out. I was just hoping to make it through one Pixar movie without crying. On the way to the movie, we went over the ground rules of the movie theater - 1) We don't ever scream. 2) We don't ever run away. If Rules 1 or 2 are broken once, she gets a warning. If broken twice, we go home regardless of how much more movie there is left. She told me she understood.

She was jumping up and down and squealing while we were still in the parking lot. Flocks of other little girls made their way inside. I guessed they weren't on their way to see Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter. Lilah made friends with pretty much all of them.

Once inside, we picked up our tickets (which Lilah insisted on holding) and made our way to the concession counter. She only gets to go to a movie once every couple of months, so we go all out. She got her kid pack of fruit snacks, lemonade, and a tiny bag of popcorn in a happy meal-esque cardboard box. She asked me to carry her tickets so she could carry her armload of snacks and try to find Theater 14. At least 4 people told me how cute she was with her pile of treats as big as she was and her blonde pigtails.

Lilah sat through at least 30 minutes of previews while munching on popcorn and emitting shrieks of commentary. "MINIONS!" "What's a vampire?" "I want to see a movie about a Princess now."
"That isn't about a Princess. What is that, Mama?"
"The Hobbit, baby. When we're done with Ramona, we can read that story book."
"What is that?"
"It's Gollum."
"Can we see that movie?"
"Absolutely."

The traditional Pixar short was La Luna, a beautiful animation of a little boy on the moon.  During the actual film, she was fine.

 Lilah had only two instances of leaving her seat, both to use the bathroom. The toilet seat was too big and she was scared to use it so changed her mind. The second time, I was a bit insistent that she at least try. She tried to gesture with her hands just how much she did not want to use the giant toilet, when she fell in. Our eyes met and it was understood that she would not be using the theater toilet anymore.

Back in the theater, she crawled into my lap, cradled her lemonade, laid her head on my shoulder, and we watched. The movie was unexpectedly lovely. It was primarily about the relationship between mother and daughter so it was great for us and our girls' night. The headstrong teenager just wants her mother to change so she can have her own way and live her own life. In the end, she has to teach, grow with, love, and protect her mother in order to fulfill her destiny. She realizes that her mother spent her whole life loving and believing in her. Princess Merida risks everything to repair the bond that was broken between her and her mother. Lilah and I nuzzled our noses at the same time and she poked at me for the tears on my face. I have cried in the past over movies like Whip It that portray a strained mother-daughter relationship, but they were always tears of anger and bitterness. These were tears of love and happiness to have my sweet daughter. All the old bitter sting is gone from my life, eradicated as if it were never there in the first place.

There was a mother this week whose 21 month old son was dying in the hospital. Rather than accept gifts and flowers, she asked everyone to go out and make a memory with their child. Feed them a banana split for dinner. Do something fun your kids will remember. We took Lilah out yesterday and gave her ice cream for dinner. We talked about how she was blessed to be a healthy little girl with a strong body and doctors who take good care of her. It was difficult to explain that some children were born without healthy, strong bodies and they don't get better when doctors try hard. We were giving thanks for our healthy girl and sending good, happy thoughts to all the children who were sick. Lilah kept calling it our blessings dinner. Ice cream because we had blessings. I ignored the judgey looks from our server when I asked him to bring ice cream before our food and just took comfort in having my family happy and healthy. I know there will be moments when she's angry at me, hates me even. But I'm hoping that like Merida in Brave, she realizes that everything I did, I did for her. Even when mistakes were made and I regretted harsh words, I always loved her more than anything. She's my miracle girl.

Pure joy

It all started with a movie.

Lilah and I were scanning HBO Go for something new to watch. I saw the movie Ramona and Beezus. My mind flashed back 17 years.

There was a kindergarten open house at Pansophia in Coldwater. My brother Zachary was talking to the teacher, along with my parents. I don't remember where Nicholas was. I just remember feeling mentally weary. I can't remember why. Weary down to my bones at the ripe old age of 8. There'd been a fight of some sort in the car on the way over. Maybe I was weary of the fights.

I was wandering around a classroom when I spotted several cardboard boxes full of chapter books. There must have been a sign or something indicating they were free. I remember falling to my knees and going through every single one of them. Touching. Smelling (nothing smells better than a worn book). Reading dust jackets and backs. I lit up like a firefly and the rest of the room melted away while I lost myself in choosing as many new books as I could carry. For whatever reason, we weren't a library family and there weren't a lot of books in the house aside from those meant for small children. That night would be the start of me building a sizable personal library. I left feeling alive again, reading something magical and sympathetic to the woes of childhood by Beverly Cleary. That library was very tragically lost to me when I moved out at 17. In the dorms in Ohio I didn't have room for any books or the time to read them, and when I moved to my own apartment in Nashville I wasn't allowed to take anything my parents bought me. While this did not include most of my books, there had been so much fighting over the subject I didn't take them. I painfully regret that choice now. The magic, beauty, and escape my eyes had been opened to that night when I was 8 changed my life forever. What began with Ramona and Beezus evolved into Great Expectations and Robinson Crusoe into The Lord of the Rings and The Scarlet Letter into 1984 and The Song of Ice and Fire.

Fast forward to 2012 and movie night with my 3 year old daughter. I looked at the title Ramona and Beezus with doubt. Should I take the risk of letting any film with Selena Gomez ruin a precious childhood memory? As my offspring wriggled and fussed next to me ("Moooovie Mamaaaaaa!") I resigned myself to disappointment and called out, "Play Ramona and Beezus." The Kinect did my bidding and we settled in to watch.

After the credits rolled, Lilah clapped in my arms and I hastily swiped away about 45 tears that had sneaked out of my eyes like jerks. The movie was the perfect portrayal of a precocious, imaginative, often-misunderstood child in a world without facebook or cell phones. Lilah Rose asked to watch Ramona and Beezus literally every day (this request was not always granted) until HBO took it down. She and I went to the Ferndale Library and I took her to the fiction section. I have to admit, when I handed her a well-loved copy of Ramona to check out, a few more sneaky tears escaped my eyes when her beautiful face gleamed and she hugged it to her chest.

I was astonished that a 3 year old was even interested in a chapter book with hardly any pictures. Almost every week night, we've spent 30-60 minutes snuggled on the couch reading 30+ pages of Ramona's life. I can ask her questions after we finish or even the next day, and she'll answer me. I know she's comprehending it. The only reason we stop each night is bedtime's insidious approach. We were at a garage sale today and I found another Ramona book in a bin. She squealed, "Ramona!" with bright eyes. She clutched it tightly in one hand and held a dollar in the other, handing it to the girl selling the books. When they couldn't make change, they handed the dollar back to her and said the book was hers to enjoy. You'd have thought she'd won the lottery. Or whatever the preschool equivalent of winning the lottery happens to be.

When Lilah Rose was having a bad night a few days ago, she put her head in her hands (dramatically of course), sighed, and looked up. "I'm frustrated. I just want to feel happy, Mama."

Don't we all, little one, I thought. "What makes you feel happy, pumpkin?" She considered carefully.

"Daddy does. And you do. You make me feel happy." We've spent the 2.5 years since this child started talking trying to get one point across to her - we can meet her needs better and faster if she uses words to tell us how she's feeling in lieu of shrieks and wails. And 9 out of 10 times, she does a truly spectacular job for a 3 year old. We are lucky parents to have so little guesswork involved when it comes to what she wants. I told Dano just the other night, "Even when we have terrible nights, the fact that she answers 'Daddy and Mama' when we ask what would make her happy says we're doing something right. Not toys or candy. Her family makes her happy, and going to the park and reading her books. She's great." Nothing brings me greater happiness than reading Ramona to Lilah for an hour and having her sad to go to sleep because she's caught up in a story. She could have grown up wanting to play sports or video games, and she still might choose to try those things. If she does, she'll be amazing at them. But the fact that she chooses to lose herself on Klickitat Street at such a young age brings me nothing but pure joy.