The Mommies' Diaries…Parenting, One Blog at a Time.

Mothers of one child I owe you an apology. I must admit, I have never walked in your shoes for more than 24 hours at most. My first baby turned out to be babies so I have never been a mother of one. In my twin moms group, we’d refer to babies born one at a time as singletons, with only a slight mocking tone. As we pushed our double strollers and discussed our futile attempts to feed both babies at the same time or get them on the same sleep schedule, we’d stare with envious eyes at moms who could wander through Baby Gap with one tiny baby strapped in a baby carrier leaving one hand free to hold an iced latte.

Twins are hard, yes. I know that one baby at a time is hard too. As my twins got older, I definitely started to see the benefits. For instance, built in playmates! Lucky for me my twins enjoy each other and have always played well together. I was never nervous sending them off to preschool since I knew they at least had each other. When my singleton son came along my girls already had to share their mother, so one more sibling was not a huge deal for them. And if you are going to have more than two children, twins are certainly more efficient! Two kids for the price of one pregnancy.

But back to my apology. For two weeks in July my twin girls were at sleep away camp, leaving a mother of one seven year old boy for the very first time.  This was going to be a cake walk.

Actually, it was not a cake walk. Yes, the house was quieter and cleaner.  There was less laundry and far fewer dishes to clean up. However, how does one cook for one child?  Do you make an entire box of macaroni and cheese for one kid to have five bites? Turns out it really isn’t that easy to scramble one egg at a time when you are used to scrambling up to five at a time. All my meals were slightly off since I had to cut every recipe in half and doing math in my head is really not my forte.

I’m pretty sure that my son missed his sisters too. Every day he had to sit thisclosetome on the couch and my usually somewhat quiet son was non-stop chatter and questions. I think he was bored.   I played more Connect Four, Battleship and toss the football in those two weeks than I did in my entire childhood. Being alone with one child was… intense.  My usual refrain of take it outside and play for a while felt a little mean if I was banishing him all by himself.

So, mothers of one, I am so sorry for thinking you have it so easy. I don’t know how you do it.

So, here’s the deal. I’m just an ordinary person.

I’ve never excelled in sports. I don’t have an ounce of musical talent, and aside from my family – there’s nothing that I’m crazy passionate about.  I mean, I love writing, and I love cooking – but I certainly wouldn’t die for either of those hobbies.

I didn’t go to college, so I can’t even claim a degree separates me from anyone else.  I don’t speak any other languages. I definitely can’t dance. I have an unfounded fear of flying, so there goes feeding babies in Uganda or fostering Manatees in the Amazon.

Before becoming a stay-at-home mom, I worked at some pretty incredible companies.  From time to time, I’d get recognized by my managers, or even my manager’s manager, for stellar contributions or exemplifying company values – but that’s about as close to “extraordinary” as I’ve ever come.

By society’s contemporary definition, my life has been pretty unremarkable.

And then I had two kids.  Becoming even more ordinary with each.  I just ran out of time to save the world.  Heck, I ran out of time to shower regularly, to keep my roots colored, or to renew my contact lens prescription.

I can’t sew.  I never taught my babies sign language. We start off every morning with cartoons. Our attempt at growing our own vegetable garden failed (because I ran out of time to water). And even though every study directs me to say, “Please pet the doggie on her head, like this,” I still shout, “Don’t pull her tail!”

I’m just an ordinary person.

Sometimes, I let the world tell me that this is not enough. That ordinary isn’t enough.  That I’m not enough. I spin my wheels trying to figure out what, if anything, will make me stand out from the crowd.  Admittedly, there are moments when I blog about my latest quinoa recipe and I fantasize about becoming the recipe-blogging-mom.  I get caught up in wanting to be the best at something, sometimes – anything.  Or, maybe I get caught up in thinking that I should strive to be the best at something.

I recently read an article from the NY Times.  It is all about “redefining success and celebrating the ordinary.”  It’s about living a full and interesting, but ordinary, life – and being unapologetic for that. The article begs the question, “What about being compassionate or living a life of integrity?”  How does that measure against what we’ve come to know as success?

By the standards described above, “ordinary” becomes transformational for me. Less of a curse word. It’s actually about embracing all that I am – the often unkempt, glasses-wearing, zip-up hoodie and yoga pant clad mom. The one who’s super content with her average life.  Alas, it’s not about all of the things that I am not.

Now that I have children, the definition of success includes things like making it through a grocery store without any tantrums, or getting my three year old to eat anything besides yogurt.  Success becomes less and less about impressing anyone else, and more about living a life of contentment.  (Content doesn’t mean lazy, or uninspired, by the way).

At the end of the day, all I really want is a harmonious home. I want to know that my children are happy and fed and bathed.  I want to know that my husband loves me.  I want to know that my friends appreciate me.  I want to know that my advice is valued, my wisdom respected, and my trust earned.  It’s simple, really.

While my job is to recognize the potential of my children, and to do whatever I can to stimulate their growth in the areas where they excel – my job is not to make them the best at those things.  My job isn’t even to expect the best.  My job is to enjoy watching my children grow in a direction that fulfills them and builds their confidence. It’s not up to me to get my children into college – its up to me to ensure they have the tools to find their own way there.

My job, my purpose, is to exemplify what’s important in life. And to me, success measured by achievement is meaningless if getting there wasn’t driven by passion and an authentic desire. To me, living extraordinarily means loving indiscriminately. It means treating people, and the earth, with respect. It means telling the truth compassionately, and with conviction.  It means walking the talk, wearing your heart on your sleeve, and being an open book.  It means unabashedly sharing who you are.  It’s such a shame that the world around us would consider such things as “ordinary.”  In this day and age, the scarcity of such values makes them anything but ordinary.

So, I’m ordinary? Yep. I’m totally cool with that. As the article so eloquently says, “Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you.” Someday, the world will see me, though. They will see me through the strength, confidence and compassion of my girls.  They will see me through the impact that my girls will have on this world – for the how they will contribute to extraordinary causes in ordinary ways.

Can you get “adoption cravings” like you get “pregnancy cravings”? Many years ago, a large slice of chocolate cake passed by me at dessert and it did not look tasty at all.  Yep, I knew it! I was pregnant.  The only thing that sounded good was vegetables (what?!) and loads of bread to keep the pukies back. The next time I was pregnant, same thing: three months of only wanting healthy stuff, followed by 6 months of an appetite as big as the moon.  So, I am once again craving healthy stuff, but this time it has taken some hard work, re-training and major self control. … So far, this ” adoption pregnancy” has been over a year and since I don’t know when baby will come, I figured I can’t go by the old plan of 9 months to put on weight, 9 months to take it off… (which was not so much the reality for me anyhow).

Basically, while we wait, I am going to make some overdue health changes! I have a little more time and I am ready to focus on making some changes.  I have been believing things that just aren’t true.  I need to “weed” out some lies, replace them with truth and be strong enough to make some changes that will benefit both me and my family long term. While we were waiting to watch the new Batman movie (yes, it’s great!) I saw an ad for coke (my favorite!)

“Open Happiness”…well, it’s a lie.  And I’ve believed it for a long time.  I have bought into the do what makes you happy in the moment because parenting is about survival in the first years.  The thing is that my kids are older now, and not having everyday tantrums and there truly is not any “need” for me to dive into the candy jar or cookie dough or super-sized coke to find happiness at the end of a trying day.  Now, it’s just a bad habit.  I have been starting my day with soda (I say because it makes me sweeter, but not really) and, my kids have been noticing. Hmmm.  I think it is time for me to find better ways of coping and new things that make me happy.  So, I’m learning to love (even crave?) some healthier foods.

So, this week I’ve cut all soda!  I have cut out desserts!  And, I’m working towards cutting bread/ white flour out too (Gina, you’ve inspired me But, it isn’t easy.  I think that training is never easy.  I think, similarly, parenting is never easy. But, it is a combination of our daily choices that all have consequences, both good and bad.

I want to make choices that will be beneficial and this is a habit that needed to be broken before another child joins us.  I don’t want him/her to think the answer to problems is just to open a bag of cookies.  (Wow, how often does my kid fall down and I literally say, “A lollipop will make it all better.”) I want to display self control in my own life so that when I ask my children to have self control they will have actually seen it modeled.  I want them to know there are more positive ways to deal with stress, because Future Child might have some stuff to deal with.

Note, this is not me preaching at anyone.  I think we (especially women) ought to do a better job first at accepting/ loving ourselves, but also be willing to make some hard changes when necessary.  It is simply my personal journey of whats going on during this ever-growing season of waiting and how we are preparing our home, hearts and minds for whatever lies ahead.

How do you make changes in your life that are necessary? How do you change your cravings?

Hi. I know it’s been a while. But I’ve been having trouble finding balance in mi vida loca (my crazy life). I’ve written a few blog posts in my head over the last few months, and am eager to get at least one of them on paper.

Last month, I was standing in line at Whole Foods waiting to pay for boxed lunches for my colleagues to eat after our team building nature walk in the Baylands Nature Preserve in Palo Alto, California. I had organized this activity as part of my role as Interim Director of Operations for the nonprofit organization being incubated by my fulltime employer. As I was pulling out my credit card to hand to the cashier I looked over at the magazine stand and a headline caught my eye. It was the July/August cover of The Atlantic magazine and in bold black letters it said:  “Why Women Still Can’t Have it All”. The headline was further illustrated by a baby girl poking her head out of a briefcase being carried by a professionally dressed woman.

The first thought that came to my mind was, “But I don’t want to have it all!” My thought process was as such that I know where my priorities lie, and that is with my family. But my reality is that I have a lot of priorities (maybe too many), and there are times when the priority of my family conflicts with the myriad of other responsibilities I have outside of the home.

When I was a teenager, I remember boldly stating to my friends and family that I would not have children until I was in my 30’s, if at all. At the time, 30 seemed really old, and a long way off. When I was in my 20’s, I had embraced many of the philosophies identified with feminism. As part of this, I asserted to my then boyfriend, now husband, that if we were to get married I would not take his last name unless he was just as willing to take mine in a coin toss. I didn’t lose, but I did compromise after our marriage by legally changing my last name to be my middle name because hyphenating my long and difficult-to-pronounce Italian name seemed cumbersome in the end. In our wedding vows, we promised one another that if we were not blessed with children that we would be content with each other so long as we both shall live.

After being married for a few years, I began to think that having children was the next natural step in our lives together. And I also began to espouse that if we were to have children that I would like the option of being able to stay at home. Six years into our marriage, the reality of being able to pay our mortgage coupled with our desire to have a family began to wear on me. So, I made yet another compromise and we decided to forge ahead, knowing that I would become a “working mom”. Our son Gooby was born in 2008 and our daughter Cakes joined us (ahem, surprised us!) in 2011, when I was 31 and 33 years old respectively. At least I had not broken the promise I made to myself and others as a teenager.

After having twice enjoyed maternity leave (e.g. being a fulltime mom) and followed by enduring the inevitable return-to-work experience (e.g. being a working mom), I have come to realize a few things. First, I don’t know that I would want to be a fulltime mom. It’s really frickin hard. In fact at times, it seems a lot harder (or maybe different hard) than going to work. The 24 hour days, the isolation, the testing of my patience, the lack of cerebral stimulation, the lack of appreciation.

Second, I don’t know that I really want to be a working mom. The 5:00am rush to be awake, dressed, and ready to go before my kids start their day. The struggle to get out the door before 8:00am and the hour and a half childcare/pre-school drop off journey before reaching my final destination at work. The daily mind shift from the personal urgent/important priorities, to the professional urgent/important priorities. The excitement of seeing my kids for one hour each night when I arrive home, and the being anxious for them to go to bed because I am so very tired from my work day and I need a break. The looking forward to vegetating on the couch after bedtime, and the need to make one final push until 10:00pm because my husband and I also run a construction business and there are things that cannot wait until the morning, because I will not have time before 5:00am, when my day starts all over again.

So, I guess what I’m saying is, I reluctantly agree with The Atlantic headline. Women can’t have it all – because (for me at least) there is always compromise and internal conflict. We want our kids and family to be a priority, but we also want to make ourselves a priority (which happens less than I’d like it to). We want to stay home with our children, but we want to go to work. We want to go to work, but we want to be home.  I definitely don’t have all of the answer to this eternal dichotomy. And I, like all moms (working or stay-at-home), am most certainly exhausted. So, let me ask you: How do you find balance, peace, harmony, and acceptance in the life that you have chosen (or been blessed with)?

Personally I’ve never been good at playing rock, paper, scissors. I just can’t seem to find the right “2 out of 3″ combination to win. You know what else I’m not really good at these days? Getting my daughter to eat her dinner. Lately it seems like we (her mom and I) can only get her to take as many as 3-4 bites before she is bouncing around the house jumping on the cats, saying “Daddy I want money!” and requesting candy. Some nights, like last night, nothing we do works and it just ends up being a day of hodge podge eating and grazing. (Hence the title “The Grazer”)

With a 2.5 year old I’ve realized that a bit of trickery (and enticing) works best when it comes to eating food. One thing you don’t do is ask a child what they want to eat without giving choices. Example:

Me: “Sweetie, what do you want to eat for dinner?”

Daughter: “Ummmm…..candy and…ummmmmm…..CANDY!”

Me: “Ummm, maybe we won’t eat that right now…how about PB&J or Ham and Cheese?”

Daughter: “But I want ice cream….I don’t want Peanut Butter!”

Without giving choices I allowed her to put in her mind what she wanted to eat instead of thinking about what the real choices were. Once that happens it becomes increasingly more difficult to get my little Grazer to eat dinner because visions of mini ice cream cones and jello go dancing through her head while staring at carrots and ham and cheese. I get it…..I would want the exact same thing if presented that way.

My point really is that communication is vital with these youngsters. Not only are they sponges absorbing everything we say but they are starting to develop associative memory and understand (to a point) that they have choices other then what’s presented to them (does that make sense?). Basically she’s learning to outsmart me!

Back to the drawing board…………….

“Siblings without rivalry” …

Is the name of a book I once owned…and I MUST find it, because siblings WITH LOTS of rivalry, stinky faces, ugly words and constant fussing is the reality in my house.

We just returned from a family reunion at the Russian River and I wanted a day to sleep, get organized, find items that are still missing even though I’ve mostly unpacked.  But, I am a mom (and truly thankful for that) and those things had to fit around dominoes and art with my little ones, feeding the never-full little bellies, catching up on emails and cleaning (all of which I am okay with)… oh, AAAAND… breaking up the constant bickers between my children (not so okay with this.)  I really tried to just ignore the yelling, fighting and tattling, so I could carry on with my chillax plan, but reading a book or lounging around just didn’t happen.

It is the dead center of summer.  I am loving our field trips, family fire pit time, summer camps, evening walks and especially the occasional day we get to stay in our pajamas until 3pm.  I am not loving that those “lazy” chill days are anything but relaxing because I have to spend extended time correcting and separating two kids who can not seem to get along for more than 10 minutes at a time (unless the tv is on, and I’d prefer it off…just one more thing to “argue” about, right?)  Plus, some days I feel very anti-noise. Hmmm, that’s a dilemma as a parent, for sure.  And, I am also a hybrid of an extrovert and an introvert.  I feel like I had “used up” all my words and all my energy “points” allotted to me and now, I just wanted to be silent.  Hmmm, another dilemma for anyone who shares a house with anyone at all, let alone small verbal children.

HELP! Parents, give me your tried and true tips for promoting respect between siblings and keeping my sanity!!

My little “muffins” are 3.5 years apart so they have different interests based on age.  They are two different genders, and they also have very different personalities.  I try to find the common ground between them and build on it.  Today, I gave them both “independent homework” aka a pile of books and worksheets, maps and reading activities.  Still, I ended up just taking them to a park, where they could both play with different friends on different things, but really?!?!  I’d like to just be able to stay at home and have them get along!! Is that just a dream? Or, is it a possibility? And, I’d like to know HOW? I feel like I spend the day saying to my children: “Were those words kind? Did that action show love? Is that respectful to Mommy?”…truly, those are the only rules we have because they all go back to the heart– I want our kids to want to treat each other with love.

Of course, I am always thinking of how this will affect “future child” who will be joining our family.  I want him/ her to experience love all around. I want him/ her to experience a mutual compassion and respect in this house.

So, perhaps I go back to a “Caught being Kind” chart? The way I see it, I can try to make a positive game of it and make it a goal to do loving things to one another each day. Or, I can keep going the nagging route, where my children visit the corner every day– sometimes every hour– and lose minutes off their bedtime again and again and again. Which route has worked for you? How have you stopped the squabbling and built up the friendship between siblings?

If there is something in the world I hate (and hate is a strong word) it’s when my daughter is sick! If I could have three wishes from a genie they would be the following:

1) Assure me my daughter will always be OK and never be sick!

2) Give me a blank check to an endless supply of cash.

3) A dutch crunch sandwich from the old “Kelly’s Sandwiches” in Belmont (Ham, American Cheese, Pesto Sauce and a little Pepper)

I might as well be sick to because all I think about during the day is how she’s feeling. If you’ve read my previous posts you know that my daughter has had a history of febrile seizures. She is high energy and full of life so it’s easy to determine when she isn’t feeling good (lathargic/slower/glassy eyed look). To see her like that just deflates me. Although wish #1 (listed above) isn’t possible I still wish I could be like the guy in Stephen King’s “The Green Mile” and suck the venom/sickness out of her and into me! No bueno.

This morning she woke up still a little under the weather. A scratchy throat and a clearly irritable cough that we’ve probably all had at one point in our lifes. It happens right? When is someone going to invent a medicine that instantly makes you better.?…..And no I’m not talking about alcohol.

Bottom Line: Being Sick is for Assholes! It’s not fair and shouldn’t fall on children. (That’s my whining for the day!)

Yesterday, when I went to pick up my kids from day one of their super-fun morning camp, I cheerfully said: “I’m so glad you all can go and enjoy camp!!”

My boy’s snarky reply: “I know why, it’s because you like to have a break from us.”

True, but when DID I SAY THAT? I’m racking my brain, I’m feeling guilty, I’m wondering if I said it on a phone call he overheard, I’m ready to argue about “why isn’t ok for mommy to have a break, huh, Buster?”

But, what I said was (in my sweetest voice I could muster): ” No, love, I am glad you can go to camp because it is a privilege (when did you get so spoiled, I think) and because I used to loved going to camp (and I actually care about doing nice things for you, I add in my head) and I know you are loving being there with your friends.”

But, his comment nagged me all day.  I am cautious about my words, I wake up in the morning mentally preparing for the day and planning/ hoping to use only words that gently correct, calmly mold, patiently guide and truly build up each of my kids.  How did he pick up on something that was pretty much true, but definitely NOT what I wanted to communicate.  Hmmm, now I’m going to have to be more careful about my tone, and even what I do not say, but imply (maybe by the relieved sigh I gave upon dropping them off.)

So, today, I apologized and let them both know that I love spending time with them, and I also do enjoy being able to have time with daddy or a friend (or the dishes like I did today) when we are apart.  But, I really want to communicate that they are my best friends and most important to me and if I communicated that I was bothered by them, I was truly sorry.  (Yes, I gave a too-wordy shpiel)

His reply: “I’m sorry too, sometimes when I’m in a bad mood I just say stuff to be mean.”

Oh, alright, sooooo, I guess that we both need to work on what we say and what we communicate by our non-verbals as well.  And, be quick to apologize always.  And, maybe I need to not overthink things all the time, huh?

I don’t know exactly how this relates to being “Adopting mommy” except to say that I pretty much over-think things all the time because I am really trying (probably too hard, if that’s possible) to be the best at my job as a mommy so that when future child comes everything will just be so smooth.  But, lets be honest, I’m not going to solve all family communication problems today and therefore be somehow more ready for our family to grow.

I am awake every morning around 3 am, and as clear as my thinking is in that foggy-middle-of-the-night way, I worry about “messing up” my kids. (both kids I’ve birthed, but for some reason especially someone else’s child they have “given” me.) I worry about wounding them (especially a child that brings with him/her the wounds of loss.)  I worry about what my kids perceptions are of me…It really does no good if I think I’ve been a fine parent, but they have perceived something totally different. (Exhibit A, ahem…. the aforementioned dialogue.)

But, when did worrying ever help anybody? A little less worrying, a little less thinking, a little less speaking perhaps.  And a lot more words and actions that demonstration my love and delight in being with my children.

Have you ever breastfed while standing?  In public?  While getting a manicure?  I have.

Last Saturday my husband had to attend to a family emergency, so it was up to me to entertain both girls.  This isn’t a big deal since that’s my full time “job” anyhow, but I was hell-bent on getting my nails done.  This in and of itself is pretty funny because I am so not a pampered kind of girl.  However, my husband very sweetly mentioned that he appreciates it when my toenails don’t resemble Medusa’s hair.

Of course I had a few choices.  I could’ve waited until my husband returned home.  I could’ve postponed my plans until Sunday.  I could have even scrambled to find someone to watch the girls.  But, no, I decided to take the road less traveled….the road most sane people wouldn’t even consider.  I brought the girls with me.

The first 15 minutes were wonderful.  Bitzy slept in her car-seat while DJ awkwardly stared at everyone.  But, it all went downhill from there (I know, shocking) – and ended up with me breastfeeding Bitzy….while standing.  My manicurist stood beside me, carefully painting one nail at a time while I swayed back and forth.  I know what you’re thinking, and YES – I left them a huge tip and a 5-star review on Yelp.  Ok, ok – what you’re really thinking is that 1) I’m crazy, and 2) you would’ve been pissed if you were in that salon, trying to relax, at the same time my family hurricane passed through.  Fair enough.

What’s done is done.  That salon has forever earned my business, I have my first Shelac manicure, and DJ has enough nail art to last her a year (and additional $12.00 that I happily paid).  More importantly though, I have a renewed perspective on what it means to surrender.

Isn’t that what parenthood really is?  Daily surrender?  Giving up our own power, or more accurately – our plans, for the good of our own mental health?  The faster we can embrace the concept of surrendering, the faster we can relax, and enjoy each moment.  I should have just surrendered to the idea of not getting my nails done on Saturday – it would’ve saved me a lot of frustration, embarrassment – and money.  I should’ve let go of what my vision for that day was, and I should’ve adapted to a more realistic one.

The same goes for my house.  I am a neat freak….like, crazy OCD.  My dad has owned a cleaning business for the past 25 years.  I have grown up hailing to the almighty vacuum.  Cleaning has served as my outlet for control when the world around me seems to be fraying at the edges (quick, get the scissors – we can’t have fray!).  I am only able to relax once the dishes are done, the laundry is folded and the beds are made.  I’m super organized and have labeled bins for almost everything.  When the contents of those bins are scattered about, I find it hard to breathe.  Seriously.

This characteristic is not conducive to life with a 3 year old, nor does it compliment living with a 4 month old baby.  There are toys everywhere.  Despite my recent sweep through of the house, boxing up a ton of “extra” toys – imaginations are budding, and play is how both DJ and Bitzy are learning.  So, OK.  I need to chill out.  How does that quote go, “Shoveling a driveway during a blizzard is like cleaning up the house when the kids are still awake?”  Totally pointless.

Surrender.  Remember the nail salon, Gina?  Yup.  Ok, surrender.

And that I did.

On Sunday, DJ woke up at 6:00 am.  By 6:45 am, this is what our house looked like:

And I left it like that till bedtime.  Picking up toys, after all, might’ve chipped my Shelac.

Bedtime in our house usually goes something like this:

Mom/Dad: “Okay sweetie, time to get ready for bed!”

A-Rae: “But I don’t want to go to my crippy. I want to stay in mommy/daddy’s bed.”

Mom/Dad: “We know, but you NEED to go to YOUR crib to fall alseep…it’s getting late.” (Conversation usually starts around 8pm)

A-Rae: “But I NEED to stay in here and watch Mickey in YOUR bed. (She even emphasizes the NEED and YOUR)

Eventually we are able to wrestle her free of the middle of our bed, into her jammies and then her crib. Once she hits her crib is when things start to get goofy. She is such a sweet, funny little girl that when she borders on the verge of “exhaustion” is when she is at her funniest. Last night, for example, we had a night full of varying extremes. A lot of crying, a lot of laughing, a lot of giggling, etc. She didn’t want to be in her crib…PERIOD. Nothing I or her mother did seemed to be working. Not even the “Ouch…daddy hit his toe again on the corner of your dresser and now it’s bleeding” event. This is where as parents you just need to e creative so I devised a plan which was followed up greatly by my wife. As follows:

It was readily apparent at around 8:30pm that she wasn’t going to stay in her crib and go to sleep. Obviously no parent likes it when their child is upset so I wanted to first get her to calm down. How do you get a very upset little girl to calm down? Easy…..play the “invisible game.” Using my hands as binoculors (sp) I looked all around the room saying “where’s A-Rae?”……”I’m right here daddy!,” she replied. “But I can’t see you when your sad…..I can see Super Grover, Elmo and Muno but I can’t find you! WHERE ARE YOU?”……”I”M RIGHT HERE DADDY!”, with a more distinct voice not crackling from crying. On and on we went until we were able to separate her from the thoughts of doing something that she so clearly made up her mind not to do which was to GO TO SLEEP!

Once calmed down my wife, like a perfect wing man, swooped in and propositioned. “Try and close your eyes for 5 minutes. If you can’t fall alseep we can watch the pajanimals for 5 minutes in mommy/daddy’s bed. ONLY 5 minutes.” Guess what……..she watched pajanimals for 20 minutes. Did she get her way? Kind of/sort of but she was so cute when she came out of her crib lying there with her mom. How do you say NO to beautiful blue eyes when she say’s “I can’t fall asleep….I want to go to your bed 1 more time!”

 I love that little girl more then she will ever know!