Sleeping Beauty and The Beast

Snuggling seemed like a great idea when Teagan was making the transition from crib to bed (well, mattress). She had trouble staying in her bed at first, so Brandon and I would take turns laying with her at night until she fell asleep. It was supposed to be a temporary solution. Then we had a baby. Then we moved. More than a year later, we were still snuggling with her. And it wasn't sweet memories being made as we whispered tenderly to each other for a few minutes each night. It was "Shh! Go to sleep! I'm serious!" alternating with "But I'm not sleepy" and trying to creep out of the room when she showed all the signs of being unconscious, only to be asked where we were going by a mysteriously alert little girl. We got really good at rolling off the edge of the bed without making a sound (which was a lot more difficult than it sounds when you're 9 months pregnant) and knew where to step to avoid the creaky spots on the floor. I came away from our snuggling sessions frustrated with her more often than not, because she was taking longer and longer to get to sleep and I had things that she hadn't let me get to during the day that I needed to do in the shrinking amount of time left for me in the evenings. Something had to give.

So, we tried to set a deadline. With no more major life changes on the horizon, we decided together that she would be a big girl when she turned 4 - big enough to go to bed by herself. So we made a countdown chain to her birthday and reminded her every night how many more times we'd be snuggling until she fell asleep. I realize that this may sound a bit callous, but you need to know that she wasn't napping or having quiet time or spending any waking time without me with her. She needed some independence. As did I.

Things were going great - until her birthday. She was totally on board with the plan until the night of her birthday. Then all of a sudden she refused to turn 4. I reminded her that she accepted cake and presents in celebration of turning 4, so if she was still 3, she needed to return all her presents. She agreed. (Couldn't figure out a sanitary way to get the cake back, so I took the loss.) We finally talked her into accepting that time marches on and she was indeed 4 years old. C'est la vie.

But falling asleep solo did not go well. After the squillionth time she toddled down the stairs, I started to lose it. We'd deposit in her bed time after time, a little less patiently than the time before. Our standards fell slightly and we were satisfied with her just staying in her room. She'd play, she'd read, sometimes stomp around, but as long as she was in her room we didn't intervene. Sometimes it meant a lot of cleanup the following morning, but it seemed worth it to save the effort. 

In the last few weeks, she's just started to get better at going to sleep by herself (I'm jinxing myself by putting this out there in the universe) and has even stopped shuffling into our bedroom in the wee hours to get in with us. She still insists that we keep the light on and the door closed, but that just means I can take some darling photos when I go in to turn off the light and close the door. I never know quite what I'll find.

The floor could be littered with books, the floor could be littered with her. That was a fun surprise. I asked her to get into bed and just to defy me, she told me she'd sleep on the floor. And so she did. I'm convinced that if I asked her to breathe, she'd hold her breath until she passed out. Defiance any way possible. She's also painted her doll and cried about it when I couldn't answer her question "Why did I paint my doll?" That was a rough night.

I did, however, make note of some of the better moments we've had around bedtime. Instances like:

- Me telling her "I love you very much". and her replying, "I love you very much too, Mom."

- She's always asking for fresh water (a bit of a diva) and I always ask her to stay in bed while I'm getting it (experience tells us she won't) and so she says, "I will stay here in my bed. I will stay right here. I listened to you." I needed to check on something later (this is when snuggling lasted more than half an hour) and she sat up straight in bed and told me "I will stay right here, just like I did when you got my water." We celebrate listening a lot around here.

- "You are my favourite." "You're my favourite too, Mom."

- She smile, leaned over, kissed me and said "I want to hold your hand." It was kind of darling.

And it's even more darling looking back now, having her snug in bed. By herself.

Of Moths and Men

We don't have pets now. We won't have pets later. That was decided before Martha the Moth made the poor decision to fly into the house - Martha just sealed it.

One on hand, I'm proud of Teagan that she approached a moth without any fear or trepidation and on the other, I'm wondering what she won't touch considering how ugly this moth was. 

It was resting near the oven when Teagan audibly gasped and cried, "It's a butthly!" (Teagan for butterfly) and picked it up by a leg. Which tore off, so she picked it up by its wings. She wanted to return the butthly to its rightful home outside, so threw it in the air, only to have it fall very quickly back to earth. If moths had hindsight, this one would have put a little more effort into flying away. 

"She will be my pet!" Teagan exclaimed with glee, apparently interpreting the moth's injury as a plea to stay with her. So, I reluctantly pulled out a glass, poked some holes in some plastic wrap and allowed her to gently place her new pet in its enclosure. It seemed to be DOA, but I didn't have the heart to tell her. She confirmed with me several times that I had indeed provided a way for the butthly to breathe, but I think her concern would have been better placed with the poor thing's missing limbs. 

To distract her from the fact that her new pet wasn't moving, I asked Teagan what its name was. "Takawana," she replied, without missing a beat. This girl has the most creative names for dolls and pets - I'm nervous for her progeny. Unless she winds up in Utah, and names like Shoosh, Blones and Takawana are in the top 10. It took me a few times to get it right when I tried to repeat it back to her, so she decided that Martha was easier to say. So Martha it is. Was. 

I never quite know what she will remember (the scabby old dresses and T-shirts that I try to hide in hopes she'll wear something that <gasp> actually matches only to have her ask for the hidden items specifically, months after I've put them away) and what she will forget ("Please make sure you wash your hands after you use the toilet!") so when there is doubt, I try not to get rid of things. We returned from an hour of play in the backyard to find Grandma doing dishes, Martha's makeshift habitat now resting, overturned,  in the dishwasher. I tried to distract her with talk of colouring and all things shiny, praying she wouldn't ask about her pet. Mission accomplished - who doesn't love shiny things? 

We were talking about insects the next day and without thinking, mentioned that one looked like Martha. I held my breath and waited for the weeping and wailing upon discovering that dear Martha was no longer with us. Unnecessarily, as she simply asked, "Who?"

Martha, you made a lasting impression on me and the cats, dogs and small rodents everywhere who have you to thank that the Richards will be settling for digital pets for the foreseeable future. Rest in peace, my winged friend.

Babies at Bedtime

Bedtime. That moment that signals that we've miraculously made it through another day. 

Lately, some of our sweetest moments have been happening at bedtime. Incidentally, some of our most frustrating moments come at the same time. Since she's been sleeping in a big girl bed, one of us has been snuggling with her until she falls asleep. It started out as a sweet gesture, then turned into the only surefire way to keep her in bed and since Mason's arrival, has evolved into a quick nap for one of us.

For whatever reason, Teagan was always asking me to snuggle with her. It crushed Brandon and irritate me, since I saw her all day every day. I've found that as long as Teagan has a heads up or is involved in making our plans that she's pretty easygoing about most things, so I decided to take a step towards eliminating the argument we were having every night about who she'd be snuggling with. I printed off two simple (and ridiculous) pictures, taped them together and attached ribbon to hang them with. The picture hangs above her light switch and we turn it every morning to let her know whose turn it will be at bedtime that night. It's actually gone very well and has cut down on some of the whining.

 

Snugglefights and whining aside, on the whole, bedtime has become a really tender time for all of us. We've talked about reducing our routine of brush teeth, potty, pj's, prayer, scriptures, stories and snuggle but when we think about it, what do you cut out? We're trying to speed things along instead, since everything seems fairly necessary - although if anything goes, it tends to be the brushing of teeth. Bad parenting alert! But for every time I feel like a bad parent, Teagan has been doing something to make me feel like a good one lately.

I snuggled with her one night last month and the simple things that happened then have stuck with me long enough to write them down in hopes they'll stick with me for a while longer. I closed my eyes and felt a little nose against mine. I opened my eyes to find Teagan's face in mine, giggling uncontrollably. We were nose to nose and then she backed up to laugh and I saw that darling gap in her teeth and knew just what shade of blue those beautiful were, even in the greyness of the room veiled in night. I flashed forward to her leaving for college, taking a mental video of her laughing in all her wonderful innocence, her biggest care in the world being potty training. I basked in the sweet moment and closed my eyes, trying to etch it into my brain forever. Until I felt chubby, clumsy little fingers repeatedly stabbing at my eye, trying to pry them open. Rather than risking blindness, I opened them myself and once again found her giggling and giggled in spite of myself - not helping my cause of trying to get her to sleep. Abandoning reason...no, weighing things in my mind and coming to the decision that this is an opportunity for me to play with my little girl while she's still little (and what do we have to wake up for, anyway?) I started shadow puppets on the wall. She was in heaven. Dogs, birds, and dolphins danced on the wall beside her bed (incidentally the one we need to make an accent wall in light of said potty training...<shudder>) and she loved it. Worth every minute of sleep she may have lost. I looked at her and told her she was "my favourite little girl" - very careful not to say baby. She cupped what she could of my face in her tiny hands and told me I was her best big girl. Music to my ears. After a long day of butting heads, this was the best thing she could have said to her best big girl. But she didn't stop there: "You a good mommy, mommy." Then I kissed her. "Oh yuck!" When I told her that hurt my feelings, she quickly backtracked, "Oh yuck means I love mommy and daddies." Nice save. 

Mason doesn't sleep much, but when he does, he tends to do it in my arms. There is something about watching and feeling a baby fall asleep that is so precious. He struggles for a while and then decides sleep isn't such a bad thing (oh, if only they understood) and relaxes a bit, letting his blinks last longer and longer until finally, those beautiful blue eyes close, he heaves a big sigh and his body goes limp. Witnessing the transition to sleep is almost transcendent and I cherish these moments with both of my babies. A sleeping baby is a beautiful baby and I love to think about what they're dreaming about - particularly when there's a smile or a little laugh.

Last weekend, in an incredibly rare turn of events, Teagan asked to snuggle with me downstairs while we finished a movie and fell asleep on me. It was wonderful. After we transferred her to her bed (having to put a diaper on a half-asleep toddler is a hilarious experience as she presented her bum to me like a baboon and I fumbled through a backwards diaper application) Mason, who had been asleep for nearly an hour, woke up demanding to be fed. After filling his tummy, he fell asleep in the exact same position and I couldn't resist a photo. Such beautiful moments, so close together. As long and frustrating as our days can be, watching them fall asleep reminds me of all the best parts of being a parent. And then we wake up.

For a girl who can't stop talking...

...she didn't say much.

I learned an important lesson in reading all the way to the bottom of e-mails and sang the praises of my friend when she texted me on Friday night (not Saturday, bless her heart) to make sure I knew Teagan was giving a talk on Sunday. No. I did not. So, while I was preparing my Relief Society lesson (wrong place at the wrong time and asked to sub) on faith and repentance, I found some good material for Teagan's talk on Jesus Christ being our Saviour. On Saturday we told her she would be talking in Primary and she was all for it, really excited to use the microphone. So we practiced that night reading our scriptures into her toy microphone. Not the same, we know, but she'd hear her voice sounding different and we had some fun with Daddy reading "wo unto you" scriptures into the mike in his already booming voice. Sidenote, his buddy compared him to Barry White the other day - a nice change of pace from Kronk. Even Mason got in on the action.

She was totally pumped to speak, until it came time to sit at the front in the Talk chair. She sat on my lap for the entirety of opening exercises, which should have told me everything I needed to know about what was to come next. She remained cool and confident as she strode up to the pulpit and then promptly froze. I will celebrate the fact that she made it up there and didn't run away screaming. Our small victory is that she stayed at said pulpit for as long as it took for the talk to be said. By me. I'll admit, it's been a few years since I gave a talk in Primary and it took me back. I tried to whisper in her ear what to say, but the silence became so uncomfortable, I had to break it and deliver the talk as if I were Teagan, saying things like, "Teagan knows that Jesus Christ lives and she loves Him." I felt more than a little silly, but the teachers smiled at me politely. 

An overzealous photographer, I wanted to capture some of the moment but knew it was inappropriate at the time. So we recreated the moment after all was said and done. I couldn't get her down from the pulpit after church, she delivered an epistle when no one was staring at her. But she looked the part.

And I took the opportunity to chastise the Primary kids as a whole after they'd all left. This photo is a little more accurate as to how the whole ordeal really went. But I was reassured that many a Sunbeam's parent has recited their talk for them and that it wouldn't be the last time I'd have to do it. Look out, kids. There's deep doctrine coming your way when "Teagan" gives her next talk.

 

One good thing that came out of the whole ordeal is that she loves looking through the Gospel Art Book and talk about Jesus. Win.

Hide and Seek - Tips from Teagan

Yesterday, I had the privilege of participating in a game of Hide and Seek with Teagan, my three year old. I had a lot I wanted and needed to do, but decided to take the time to play with her, which hasn't happened much in the last two months for some strange, cute little reason.

I am so glad I did. It's the first time we've played that she's really gotten the concept. Usually she suggests Hide and Seek and insists I hide with her, leaving no one in the role of seeker. I don't have to tell you it's rather a boring game to play that way. Just spending those 15 minutes taking turns hiding and seeking while the baby slept peacefully in his swing made up for the other 8 hours of the day that were frustrating and difficult. I need to remind myself to play more often. Besides a little recharge to the ol' Mom Battery, I also picked up a few helpful hints when it comes to playing Hide and Seek with Teagan.

1. Be sure to giggle as conspicuously as possible. Especially if you're in a room that echoes.

2. When you plan to hide in a different room, be sure to slam the door as hard as is humanly possible.

3. Mutter "Ow!" and "That hurt me!" as loudly as possible when you're wriggling under a table a few feet away from the person who is counting.

4. When your opponent is having a hard time maintaining their composure while counting in the face of #3, ask astute questions like, "Why you laughing, Mom?" and carry on conversation while you make your way to your "secret" destination.

4. Hide in plain sight every so often to throw your opponent off.

5. By all means, if you find a good hiding place, reuse it multiple times. Waste not, want not.

6. Sound hide-and-seek strategy suggests you hide in the exact same place as your opponent did on your next turn. They won't see it coming.

7. To speed things along and thwart your opponent's (read: mother's) plans to squeeze under a desk, simply skip the numbers 4 through 9 when counting aloud.

And there you have it. A hilarious take on what used to be a fairly boring game. She is at such a fun age, where she's able (but sometimes refuses) to communicate what she wants and we're able to reason with her...unless she's tired, hungry or otherwise cranky. Of course, said communication isn't always 100% effective. It feels more like a game of Mad Gab then anything else at times. Especially when it comes to playing together and her trying to tell us exactly how she'd like the puppet show or the role play to go. I always do it wrong, making it frustrating for both of us. Take today's direction, for example.

Teagan: "You be chicken liver pirate witch."

Me: "Um, what?"

Teagan: "Chicken liver pirate witch."

I mulled it over several times, changing consonants and altering emphases.

Me: "OH! Jake and the Neverland Pirates witch?"

Teagan: "Yeah." I believe this was made more confusing by the fact that she doesn't watch the show, nor do I believe there is a witch involved. She then went on to hand me a "magic wand" and tried to tell me precisely what to do with it - at whom it should be pointed and what they would turn into.

The other day she wanted to pretend it was cold inside our house and brought me a hat, scarf and mittens to wear and wanted me to shiver. Then she caught snowflakes on her tongue. The more I pay attention and play with her, the more I'm in awe of her creativity and imagination and am able to let myself be silly...when no one else is around.

She has very specific ideas for how she wants things to play out when it comes to role playing, so yesterday's impromptu, unscripted game of Hide and Seek was a breath of fresh, understandable air. Love my little lady.

7 Words

7 words I'll never forget my OB saying to me: Wow, you're just all baby, aren't you?

As I laid down to recline fully on the examination table, my belly formed a ridiculous torpedo. So ridiculous, in fact, that it caused my OB to comment on my being "all baby". Whether it's something he says to the hundreds of pregnant ladies he sees, or he actually meant it I can't say, but it doesn't matter. It made my whole day. Especially considering he told me I was "ahead of schedule on my weight gain" with my last pregnancy. We've come a long way he and I.

My beautiful, bouncing, BIG, breech baby boy.

We had our 36 (and a half) week ultrasound yesterday, and I scheduled it for Brandon's day off so that he could come (for the first time this pregnancy) and bring Teagan along to see baby brother. The best view she gets these days is my big ol' stomach and I thought this would be more satisfying for her. Though it wasn't the family-friendly-let's-point-out-all-his-body-parts-and-wave-hello appointment I went to by myself at 20 weeks. It was all business, making sure all was well. And all was well - since I was already planning on a C-section. 

My doctor isn't in the VBAC business, so I was scheduled for a C-section before we found out that he's still breech (has been since my 20 week ultrasound) and BIG. They give you their best estimate, and while I know it's just an approximation and could be way off, being told that he could be 8 lbs. 7 oz. right now with more than 2 weeks to go, all eyes in the room widened a little bit. My doctor said that while I won't be breaking any records, he will be a big boy - potentially double digits and that regardless of him being breech and Teagan being an emergency C-section, he'd be trying to talk me into a C-section at this point.

We walked in and the oh-so-friendly receptionist who always remembers my name (yes, before I write it down on the sign-in sheet) asked if Teagan was my other one. She hadn't seen her since my 6 week check-up with T in 2010 and couldn't believe how tall she was. Then when my doctor saw her, his first comment was about her height. I have a hard time convincing people she's still two...for another week or so. She was relatively well-behaved during the appointment and sat on Brandon's lap the majority of the time. I forgot that he would "check me" first and so I was taken aback when the nurse instructed me to undress from the waist down. Brandon tried to distract Teagan, but of course, her yells of "I see Mummy's BUM!" cut through the paper-thin walls like a hot knife through butter. The echoes may have been my imagination, but I was no less embarrassed. In order to try to shift the conversation away from my exposed bottom (why don't they make those sheets bigger?!) we practiced saying "Hi, Doctor Pollock" and shaking his hand, neither of which actually happened by the time he came in.

We talked to Dr. Pollock about her medical kit and she told him that he would make me feel better and he thanked her for the vote of confidence. He has a daughter just a few weeks younger than Teagan and said that she has a kit too and your typical kid-being-scared-of-the-doctor situation is reversed at his house. The doctor is scared of the kid - she's constantly giving him check-ups and shoving the thermometer down his throat to the point of making him gag.

Can't believe we have just over 2 weeks left before the long awaited little man is here. Although, we'll have to see just how "little" he is!

"I Missing My Daddy."

Teagan has had a real sweet streak lately and has moved me to tears on several occasions. Today, it was a comment about her daddy. We were colouring, quite happily, and having a rare moment of peaceful quiet. She drew a picture and told me it was a school bus. I said I thought it was great and that maybe it was missing something, like wheels. So, of her own accord, she drew 4 (didn't prompt her) circles underneath the body of the bus and showed it to me. So cute. Then, suddenly she set her marker down, let out an exaggerated sigh and stared down at the floor. 

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" I asked as she looked about as forlorn as a two year old can.

"No. I missing my Daddy." she told me, eyes still down.

"Oh, I miss him too, darling. He's at work, but he'll be home soon. Are you all right?"
"I missing my Daddy." Her little heart was broken and it broke mine to see her so downtrodden. So I suggested we call him, but he wasn't available. So I asked Teagan if she would like me to send her picture to Daddy so he could see it. She responded enthusiastically, so we texted him a picture of her picture. She looked even more miserable just before I took it, but it gives you an idea of just how much this little girl was missing her Daddy.

I asked if she would like me to draw a picture of our little family, if that would make her feel better. So I drew each of us (not well) and she insisted that I draw my earrings and Daddy's "mustaff". She even wanted me to hang our picture on the fridge next to hers, she thought it was that good. A proud moment for me, indeed.

She's been singing "A Happy Family" a lot lately and it always melts my heart. She sings it so sweetly and perfectly, there seems to be nothing closer to perfection. We sang it as our opening song for our meager attempt at Family Home Evening and she ate it up. She even said the prayer for us, which went surprisingly well. We dedicated our home...nearly two years late, but it felt nice to explain the prayer to her and have her understand that we were making our home a safe, holy and happy place to be. We played Dora Memory and it couldn't have gone better. Unless she actually understood that you only get to pick two tiles, regardless of whether it's a match or not. But she's getting better. She's actually really impressive when it comes to remembering where things are - I don't remember half the time. She was excited to be spending time as a family and even happier when we told her that ice cream was the treat. We may even try it again next week!

You Wanna Snuggle Wiv Me?

Shortly after midnight, I heard the pitter patter of little footsteps - you know, the sound we waited 18 agonizing months for? For some strange reason, that sound loses its appeal in the wee hours. The next thing I know, little sausage fingers are poking my arm gently.

A tiny munchkin voice broke through the darkness. "Mummy. Mummy, you wanna snuggle wiv me?"

Of course my immediate thought was 'Uh, no. I'd rather stay here in my carefully arranged fortress of pillows where I'm as comfortable as a 7 months pregnant woman can be.'

But my heart began to wonder how often I will hear those sweet words in that squeaky little voice and how much longer a simple snuggle from Mummy will solve her problems.

So snuggle we did and were both asleep in minutes. I woke up hours later with a sore back - something about sharing a twin mattress didn't sit well. So I slithered off the "bed" (we have her on a mattress on the floor for the time being) and watched her sleep for a few minutes. I marveled at how sweet, innocent and beautiful she is and recharged my mum batteries for the next day.

So as long as there is a request for snuggles, I (or an authorized representative - ahem, Brandon - what? I'm already sleep deprived and I have 2 months before I have a newborn!) will be there.

On Becoming a Big Sister

I posted recently about Teagan reverting and playing with all of the baby stuff that's starting to emerge around the house. Lately, however, it seems she's embraced the fact that she will soon become a big sister and (for the most part) has come to accept the fact that the baby will be a boy. Grandma sent us a box of darling baby boy clothes (thanks again, Grandma!) and Teagan was more than excited as she perused our spoils.

 

She certainly is excited about my belly and comments on it every day. (None of it is very complimentary, but she's a kid and tells it like it is.) She's very aware of the fact that I have a baby in my tummy...it doesn't seem to stop her from elbowing me multiple times a day or jumping on me, but she likes to feel him kick is always patting and rubbing my belly. After she says "Whoa, Mummy's belly big!" of course.

She's been playing more with her baby doll and taking very good care of her. She loves to strap her into the booster seat, fetches a bib and a spoon and tenderly feeds her lunch. It's all very sweet.

 

She's agreed to help me change baby's diapers, but she is concerned that "they be stinky in my nose." A legitimate concern, to be sure. We'll have to brave it together. She's been practicing on her baby doll with one of her old size 1's. I have one in the drawer with her 6's and it's almost obscene to see them next to each other. It seems nearly impossible that she fit into them at one point. Tiff told me that nothing prepares you for the first time you change your older child's diaper after your newborn's. You might as well be changing an adult.

We'll be sure to handle our actual baby with more care and minimize headstands during diaper changes.

I had a really sweet experience a few weeks ago, watching her with Baby Belle. All day, she told me that Baby Belle was crying and we would work together to try to figure out why. First, we'd try feeding her. I was in awe of how gently and tenderly she handled her.

When she was finished eating, Teagan told me she was still crying, so I showed her how to burp the baby and she did it perfectly, all the while whispering "I know, I know."

The baby was still crying after a good burp, so we decided that she must be tired and needed a nap. So Teagan found her a blanket and wrapped her up, then cuddled her and told her over and over that "it's okay, it's okay."

I wish I could have frozen this moment in time. Instead, I've done my best to record what it seemed like. My best isn't near good enough, but I hope I can remember how sweet and tender she was, doing her best to figure out what was wrong with her baby and trying to fix it. I hope she remembers when it's game time and we're dealing with our baby boy.

Teagan's Too Much

I have been feverishly taking notes on Teagan's latest and greatest antics, doing my best to document everything funny she does lately. I can't keep up. And I have to accept that. Especially since #2 is getting closer and I already know that I won't document his childhood nearly as well as I've been able to record Teagan's. Of course I'll try, but I'm being realistic. So instead of 100 little posts dedicated to her hilarity, I'm going to summarize and smush a whole bunch of funny stories into one mega-post and hope that it paints a picture of just how awesome this little girl is.

• "Mummy, have check up for Mummy's baby."
• Me: "You all done?" Teagan: "No, I finished." Defiant little stinker.
• "<gasp!> Hear dat?" Whenever there's a strange noise...or a toot.
• "Dat's my bum. It's big."
• "Mummy cwazy!"
• I couldn't figure out what she wanted me to do, so she 'splained: "You swipe, Mummy. <sigh> "YOU do it" and proceeded to demonstrate swiping a basket and running away.
• Reading our tiny Animal World books that talk about 15 different animals, where they live, what they eat, etc. We've read them so many times through, she has some memorized...with a few twists.
• "I Steve the monkey." 
• "I a penguin. My home is <pause> Steve." Apparently "Antarctica was too hard to say."
• "I a lion. I live in Vasana." That's "Savannah".
• She hiked Exploration Peak (a nearby mountain - we took my parents when they were here and verified that it's a mountain) without us, with our friend Natalie and apparently did great.
• "My tummy come out just like yours, Mummy. Teagan little. Mummy big. Teagan's tummy little. Mummy's tummy BIG."
• "It's all right, Mummy. Don't be scared of witch."
• "Look, Mummy! Daddy's awake!" with fingers still on his eyelids from forcibly prying his eyes open.
• "I very sorry, Mummy. Minnie's bow missing."
• We were doing a puzzle together and she put a piece in upside down (yes, we expect great things). I laughed, so she did it at least 4 more times and laughed hysterically every time.
• On the half hour drive to pick up Brandon from work, she filled her little Dora backpack replica over and over again and pronounced, "I have something for you!"
• Daddy: "Boy, you're cute." Teagan: "Yeah, I cute!" Daddy: "And humble, too. Can you say humble?" Teagan: {giggle} "No."
• We were walking home from a friend's house and came upon two hummingbirds feasting on the nectar in their neighbour's garden. She thought they were bugs at first, then I told her they were tin birds. Hummingbirds. "Hunningbird! Scuse me! Scuse me, hunningbird!" I expected one to be scared of the other, but neither seemed afraid at all and we spent at least 15 minutes with them hovering all around us as though we weren't there. It was so sweet.
• I was getting her ready for a nap (that, for t he record, never happened) and looking for the second binkie I had just seen her with. (Yes, she still needs binkies to nap, and requires two of them.) "Where is it?" "I don't know, Mummy. I don't know." I had her on my hip, overturning pillows, looking in drawers and finally gave in, plucking one from the reserve - I don't know how many we've gone through and I refuse to buy more, so you can understand my hesitation. As we are heading up the stairs, she grins and says, "Mummy, I have 3 binkies." "WHERE?!" I demanded. Her grin widened and she lifted her foot to show me the elusive second binkie she's been clutching with a curled toe. Well played, Teagan Richards. Well played.
• I can't remember what I was doing at the time, but I must have been doing well. Teagan ran up to me and said, "You doing much great."
• Mummy, getting ready to leave for the temple: "You're going to sleep at Katie's house tonight." Teagan: "Katie's brave!" Amen.
• "Mummy, your hair is brave." We may need to go over the definition one more time.
• "Daddy's a pwince, Teagan's a pwincess." I asked her what Mummy was. Without missing a beat: "A dwagon." I asked her again a few days later. Same answer. Ouch.
• Your hair is brave - after putting a band she gave me.
• I just moved all of the 4T clothes into her closet. Yes, my not-yet-3 year old is moving into 4T clothes. As fast as I was hanging them in her closet, she was pulling them off the hanger and gasping with delight at her new clothes. "Ooh, so pretty Mummy!"
• She also found a bin of big girl underwear, featuring the likes of Dora and Tinkerbell. "Ooh, Mummy. It's a cute little diaper!" I tried to explain big girl underwear but she couldn't be swayed from the notion that they were diapers.
• Another discovery (she's into everything these days) came in the form of a box of shoes she's outgrown. She insisted on trying them on and when she found out they didn't fit, declared, "Too small. For brother." Anything that is too small for her automatically belongs to brother. He may be wearing a lot of pink.
• She's become a little parrot, repeating everything we say - bad and good. Just a few of the "bad" - Daddy's junk (she kicked him), oh crap, that sucks but the good ones melt my heart - no thanks, scuse me, I yuv you, bless you. A friend was watching Teagan for me and texted me that she was in a room full of people and sneezed, and Teagan (who was only 2) was the only one who said bless you.
• Mummy: "Please don't hit me! It makes me sad." Teagan: "No! It makes you happy!"
• I turned to Brandon the other day after he'd asked Teagan if she wanted to do something. "No, not yet," came her reply. I started to say, "Wow! Can you believe how much she's taken off when it comes to..." {Teagan spat out garbled nonsense for a good 30 seconds}..."vocabulary?" Her timing couldn't have been better.
• While we were colouring a Dora colouring book, out of the blue, Teagan looked up at me and announced: "Caillou's daddy has dangerous ears." The definition of random.
• She started to encroach on my space and so I shoved the oversized colouring book toward her. She got up, came over to me calmly and quietly and said gently, "Get to time out, Mummy." She held my arm softly and told me, "Don't throw." Thinking it was a good opportunity to show her that rules apply to mummies and daddies as well, I obliged and sat in the (teeny) Time Out Chair. She stayed by me and continued to touch my arm. I asked if I was done, she said yes and gave me a hug, which is standard Time Out procedure. Then she started to sing "I Am A Child of God." Not standard procedure, but I wonder if it should be. It was absolutely precious. It eventually morphed into the ABC song, but it was no less adorable. I hope that this was a reflection of how she sees my disciplinary tactics - although I know I'm not always calm and collected like that.

I hope you agree that we have one incredible little girl on our hands. Love her.

"I Have a Pwesent For You!"

Six words that simultaneously send shivers up my spine and pull at my heartstrings. You just never know what you're going to get, almost like a box of chocolates. Now THAT would be a gift I'd gladly accept. Unfortunately, more often than not it's random junk she's collected from around the house, stuffed into her Dora backpack and presented as something wonderful.

It really is adorable, and it warms my heart that she thinks of others and wants to make them happy. Even if she thinks an assortment of the magnetic letters from the magnet board will do that. It takes a great deal of acting for me to pretend that the splitting up and potential loss of some letters of the alphabet does indeed make me happy instead of pushing me one step closer to a nervous breakdown.

After a particularly long and trying day, I decided to plan an activity for the following day and sit her down to do a craft. A Froot Loop necklace that I quickly found out would need to be a bracelet unless it was intended for one of Teagan's dolls. As soon as I handed her the Froot Loops and the pipe cleaner, she came up with the idea of giving it to Daddy. There was some serious concentration and some intense focus that went into this spectacular "pwesent" and above all, love. She was so excited to give it to him i melted my heart.

Needless to say, Daddy was very gracious and excited about his jewelry. Since then, more often than not Brandon comes home to some sort of surprise gift. We have more cards covered in stickers than I know what to do with. We hide every day when we hear the clattering of the garage opening and closing and the squeal of the brakes and "surprise him". Now in addition we surprise him with random gifts that she hides in places significantly less obvious than under a large blanket on the living room floor (one of our go to's.) I let her hide a card once and we couldn't find it for the better part of an hour, so now I take a more active role in the game.

It really is darling the way that she gifts things and tries to make us happy (not that we're teaching her that happiness revolves around gifts) but she certainly enjoys the giving part of it...so far.

There was no ice cream.

I spent a majority of our dinnertime together staring at Teagan. Rewind a few hours of whining, crying, hitting and arguing and you'll understand why. 

SO many people tell me to cherish this time, because it only gets harder from here. I know they're trying to be helpful, but these conversations leave me more depressed than encouraged.

So I sat and watched her, trying to imagine the seemingly impossible moment in the unforeseeable future that I would look back on this day and miss her chewing up broccoli and spitting it out, balling up her roll and pushing it around the table and flinging her spaghetti everywhere. We went back and forth about ice cream and the fact that she was required to eat 3 vegetables first. She moved the veggies around on her plate and demanded ice cream, to which I calmly responded (I was oh-so-proud of myself for keeping my cool) that she needed to eat her veggies first. We repeated this conversation at least 10 times, the only difference being the volume of her voice and the clenching of her fists.

I wanted to explode, I wanted to scream, I wanted to fast forward to a time where instead of talking at me incessantly ("Mummy" must escape her lips hundreds of times a day) she could actually function on her own for more than a few minutes.

Instead, I started to think about her driving off in a car for the first time and going on her first date and I really began to believe that I could indeed cherish days like today.

And then she threw a balled-up roll at my face.

There was no ice cream.

How NOT to get invited to birthday parties.

You can start by losing track of your 2 1/2 year old and get nudged by someone asking if you know where your daughter is. Then you can find her having pulled a stool over to the counter and strategically licking the frosting off the birthday girl's cake. Fortunately, this particular birthday girl was incredibly forgiving and she and the host (my great friend who Teagan LOVES) egged her on while recording the whole thing.

I suppose it would be funny if the out-of-control pint-sized hooligan isn't yours.

Teagan Tidbits

• Teagan loves spending time at our neighbour, Katie's house. Who doesn't? She's treated like royalty and doesn't hear "No" very often - in direct contrast to our house. Katie recounted the following story recently: Teagan had already had one applesauce squeezy and requested another one. When Katie told her "No, Teagan, you've already had one" she marched right to the front door and announced "I go home, Katie. I go home." This may have been one of the first times she'd heard no from her favourite friend, Katie, so I supposed she figured she could get that at home. The girl means business.
• She was eating Veggie Straws at church and out of the blue the other day, stuck two of them between her front teeth and her lip, turned to Brandon and said "Vampire!" Never a dull moment.
• "Cayful Mummy's tummy!" If only she'd heed her own advice.
• She's started to play on the computer and PBS.org and Nickjr.com have no shortage of cute, fun, educational games for kids to play. She's constantly surprising me with how well she can navigate menus and pick up new games. It's a little scary. One of her favourites lately is a Bubble Guppies game that has you choose various hairstyles for each Bubble Guppy and at random, the villain named Hairball will pop up and you have to click on him before he can ruin your hairstyle. Napping has been sporadic lately, so she gets to play on the computer for a short time every day as a sort of quiet time. I'm usually doing dishes or something nearby and can't help but chuckle when our silence is broken every minute or so with "HAIRBALL!"

Great Expectations.

Teagan's participating in a reading program at the library: Raising a Reader - 1000 Books Before Kindergarten.

We went to the library today to hand in her latest list of books we've read together and she was unusually chatty with Miss Joanna, the librarian. Telling her what animal was on the top of her sheet, what colour it was and other such factoids. 

Miss Joanna told her she was "SO smart!"

Miss Joanna must not have seen our entrance - Teagan ran full speed ahead into one of the security scanners. We expect great things.

Punzel's Mummy.

We were playing with Little People princesses and Teagan asked me for "Punzel's mummy." Fairly confident we didn't have a Little People version of Mother Gothel laying around, I told her we didn't have her. "I find her. Teagan's room," was her response and came back with this. Touche, Miss T. Touche.

Midnight Theatrics

I love nothing more than to hold my baby in the middle of the night and listen to her slow, steady breathing.

That was a bold faced lie. But it does have its moments.

Teagan's had trouble sleeping through the night since she made the "transition" to her big girl bed. Generally all she needs is a good snuggle with one of us (depending on how tired she is, she'll allow Brandon the pleasure, but usually she prefers Mummy) and she's back to sleep. Sometimes she just gets a kick out of getting out of bed to see what we do. I can't tell you how creepy it's been to walk upstairs to go to bed ourselves and see her sitting at the top of the stairs like a tiny zombie.

I've tried to maintain a positive outlook in the face of my lack of sleep and remind myself that she'll only be little for a while longer and she'll no longer want to snuggle with me on her lap...nor will I be physically capable of holding her - it's laughable to see these days. On more than one occasion I've been overcome with love and emotion and found myself with tears trickling down my cheeks.

No matter what kind of a day we've had (and lately, we've been skipping naps in favour of bedtime going smoothly so the days are L-O-N-G) when I watch her sleep, I can't help but see her as the daughter of God she is - I'm afraid I don't find myself seeing her that way 100% of the time. It's been a great refresher, to see her in that light every night (and sometimes multiple times a night) and helps me practice more patience with her while she's awake. I'm a little nervous to take photos of her when she's sleeping these days - not worth the risk - but I compiled a bunch of photos of her sleeping in hopes that I can preserve at least a little of the feelings I'm experiencing lately.

I keep thinking about a poem I read about cherishing childhood, so much so that I found a cute print online and framed it next to the rocking chair in Teagan's room. It reminds me to obsess less about having a clean house and concern myself more with enjoying my child's formative years.

Mother, O Mother, come shake our your cloth,

Empty the dustpan, poison the moth.

Hang out the washing, make up the bed,

Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking. 

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,

Lullaby, rockabye, lullaby loo.

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,

Pat-a-cake, darling and peek - peekaboo.

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew,

And out in the yard there's a hillabaloo.

But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?

Lullaby, rockabye, lullaby loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,

But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

~Ruth Hubert Hamilton

We had a particularly heartwarming moment a while ago and I had to record it. I was rocking her to sleep, just admiring how beautiful she is (particularly when her eyes are closed) and thought it had been long enough that she was fast asleep. Seconds before I had planned to get up and put her back into bed, she smiled and sighed "Happy" with her beautiful blue eyes still closed tightly. My heart leaped. I was overcome with a feeling of peace and happiness that my daughter felt happy. A single tear began to roll its way down my cheek and then her eyes popped open, she pouted her gigantic lips and said "Sad." Then began to rotate between "Happy" and "Sad" while I mentally kicked myself. She was merely practicing her emotions. Like I said: heartwarming.

But while she's still little enough to want to snuggle I will snuggle the wee hours away, with her mile-long legs dangling over the edge of the chair.

Cuteness Summarized

If I were to blog every cute or funny thing that Teagan did, I'd have carpal tunnel and my blog books would be the size of a Twilight novel. So I thought I would summarize some of her recent cuteness in a single post.

She's been fighting sleep for some time now, and yesterday I let her cry it out for a while after I put her down for a nap. Until I heard, "Help! Help!" then "Ayudame! Ayudame!"and came in to find her in the midst of trying to climb out (she may be getting wise) and stuck on the side of the crib. So she can call for help in two languages - may come in handy. But it may be time to slow down on the Dora.

Is there anything cuter than a baby in the bath, laying on their tummy with their little bum cheeks breaking the surface of the water? How about if they look up at you with great big blue eyes and say "Mummy! I Nemo! I swimmin!"

I've started teaching a few piano students and their mums watch Teagan while I teach, which is a win win win. Teagan loves to play with her friends instead of boring old Mummy. Especially since my friend Katie is an expert cookie maker and whips them up nearly every week. Teagan toddles in with a plateful, parks herself in the living room and dares anyone to try to take a cookie from her. It's really very frightening. Luke braved sneaking one and Teagan shoved his hand away. So he tried it with the other hand. She pinned both hands down and spat cookie in his face while yelling "No Nuke!" Charming. I resorted to distracting her with something shiny to get my share.

There are times I've wondered aloud how library DVDs can get scratched beyond recognition to the point they don't play. I got my answer this week. We're entering an independent stage and I can't seem to stop her from operating the DVD player on her own. She knows the eject button and with an attention span of less than 2 minutes, changes DVDs several times before settling on one. She insists on taking the DVDs out of their cases herself (thank goodness she's picked up the finger through the hole trick taking them out) and transferring them to the player, pushing me away and saying "Teagan turn. I help you." Hmm, I'm rethinking placing this particular aspect in the "cute" category.

If you haven't seen Finding Nemo, you may not appreciation this next one. We have church at 2:00 in the afternoon. To say it's a struggle would be a laughable understatement. We make a lot of effort to keep her in Sacrament Meeting, which means getting creative. To stave off what looked like a particularly nasty tantrum, he taught her to say "Noggin", bonk heads (lightly) and say "Duuude." Adorable. Unless it's the middle of the night, you've been rocking her for several minutes (which is hilarious to watch because she's gigantic) and are convinced she's asleep, only to find that once you rest your chin on her forehead in a squeeze of love, she quietly whispers "Noggin" and "Duuude." More maddening than cute, really.

Trying to branch out from Dora and <eye twitch> Max & Ruby (if you ask her, it's "Max & Nuby, Nuby & Max and she dances around to the theme song singing along - Max and Nuby! Nuby and Max over and over), we've been watching the Madagascar movies as a family. 'Madagascar' is difficult for an adult to spit out, so Teagan simply goes with "Noove It Noove It" (citing the 'Move It Move It' song during the credits). Use it in a sentence, you ask? "Teagan do it Noove It Noove It" meaning another DVD is about to meet its maker. (Literally, we've sent Monsters Inc. back to Disney to be replaced. Noove It Noove It will be next.)

Lately she's been a teeny tiny mummy and it melts my heart. She swaddles her Minnie Mouse doll or any other toy she can find, carries them around for a while, whispering things like "I know. It's okay. I know." and then laying them down somewhere, kissing them and saying "nigh night." She does it to me too, but with a little less love. "Sweep, Mummy." Then she drapes me with a blanket. And by "blanket" I mean her changing pad. While it's a sweet gesture, something a little less germ ridden would be lovely.

 

 

 

 

 

The girl's destined to be a nerd. I tell her to pick out stuffed animals to snuggle with at nap and bedtime and she insists on cuddling a pile of books. 

Which leads me to her compulsively neat tendencies. At first it was cute that she sorted all the memory cards by colour and stacked them neatly. But now, if one of the books in a pile is out of line or upside down she has an uncontrollable meltdown, yelling that it's "Boken!" between heaving sobs. It's bordering on the ridiculous.

And that, my friends is just a glimpse of the cuteness/irritation I deal with on a daily basis.

A Mother Heart

It's absolutely amazing to me how quickly little girls take to mothering. We gave Teagan a baby doll for Christmas when she'd just turned one. I had thought she was too young, but after a playdate at a friend's house spent cuddling a doll I realized that she just needed to be given a chance. To see my baby carrying a baby around was just darling.

From the get go, she knew how to cradle it and give it a bottle. I marveled at how someone so young could be so loving and nurturing. Then she got distracted and dropped it on its head. Back to life. Back to reality.

Her mothering has become more sophisticated since then, and now she's comforting her babies when she imagines that they cry. I walked into her room the other day to find her with a doll over her shoulder, resting her head on its head, patting its back and saying "It's okay...I know...I know..." I nearly cried. That's a lie. I cried. I like to think that I had a smidge to do with it - although I know that so much of it is natural and inherent.

As I was reporting this to Brandon while we were going through the bedtime routine, we both let out a resounding "Aww" and turned to look at Teagan who was playing with her little kitchen. Taking one baby out of the dishwasher and another out of the oven. She didn't learn that part from me.