So Lucky

I say it every year, but I love St. Patrick's Day. Mainly because minor holidays are super-fun, but also because my favorite color is green, and both the Millers and Kelleys have hefty Irish roots (and English, who were historically at odds with the Irish. I promise that if there were a British-themed minor holiday, I would celebrate it too, as we did with the London Olympics!)

Every year, we take a family pic in all our green. It's a fun tradition, and a good opportunity to take a picture that has not just a child or two, and not just a child or two with one parent, but via selfie or timer, to get us all in the shot. That's so much rarer than it should be, when one parent is always behind the camera!

 As on Valentine's last month, I decorated the dining room and fixed a nice dinner for the fam. I considered doing all green foods, like spinach fettuccine, zucchini, and salad, but my kids don't really care for green foods, and even if the green pasta tasted just like regular pasta, it would be no dice. So, I made corned beef, mashed potatoes, and kale (for Mommy and Daddy; the kids got leftover green beans and sweet potato fries for their veggies).

 

I'm going to keep it real here and confess that, while I love doing fun theme dinners and such, it increases my frustration when the kids aren't automatically on their best behavior and super-polite during said dinner. I was kind of on edge throughout the meal. 

 

Toward the end of dinner, I pulled the old Thanksgiving staple, with a twist: "Let's all say why we're lucky!"

Kate replied: "Why we're lucky."

Why yes, she does have a smart mouth. How'd you guess?

Kate did give a serious answer, though, saying she was lucky to have a sister and a foster sister and a mommy and a daddy.

Claire's answer was simply: "Pie." (May I remind you her babyhood nickname was Hungry Hungry Hippo?)

Hope you feel as lucky as we do—whether it's because of familial love or just a nice dessert. Both are good reasons to celebrate.

Obsession Still Going Strong

 

In case there was any question about it, let me say that YES, the girls' obsession with Sound of Music is still going strong. Kate still loves Phantom, and they got into My Fair Lady for the couple weeks we had the Netflix disk, but so far, there is no replacing "Usic" (Music) or "Ria"  (Maria). (Claire has always started at the end of words—first, she would just say the last syllable; now, it's the last two syllables. And if a word only has two syllables, the first letter is optional, apparently.)

 

We have a lovely book with the text of "My Favorite Things" and beautiful illustrations. A college roommate actually gave it to me years ago, but it has been more well-loved (that's parenting code for "destroyed") in the past few weeks than in the decade preceding. The song has been added to our repertoire of goodnight songs, too, though it took me a while to catch on to Claire's hysterical demands for "Oses!" It wasn't until she said "Oses. . .  Ittens . . ." that I finally got it. ("Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens," get it?)

Our favorite page is "Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes," mainly because of two girls in that illustration that I commented (once—but as many parents know, once is all it takes) looked like Kate and Claire. So now, every time we get to that page, Claire points and says "ats me!" and "ats Kate!"

We went to a showing of the "Frozen" sing-a-long movie last weekend, and Claire shouted at the screen the first five times Anna appeared, "ats me! ats me!" because (of course) she is the happy-go-lucky younger sister, and Kate is the, shall we say, emotionally complex older sister. The girls had already seen "Frozen" twice—once with each set of grandparents—and I was glad to finally see it with them, even if it is a Disney princess movie. I loved that it was a sister-love story, and I'm glad for them to go nuts for a movie with that theme.

But I'm also glad that a classic musical is still first in their hearts.

Rite of Passage

When the kids are playing together and Claire suddenly starts crying, it's a safe assumption some sibling-scuffling has occurred.

"Claire, what happened?" we ask.

"Kate!" she replies.

Yes, Kate happened. That's a good explanation for a lot of things.

Sometimes she'll add, "Kate . . . there," pointing to the spot on her body that was pinched or shoved. (Though we generally discourage eye-for-an-eye retaliation, I was kind of amused to learn upon picking the kids up at grandparents last week that the bruise under Kate's eye was due to Claire having had enough of Kate's domination!) 

Kate happened again this weekend, and Claire tells the story so well.

"Claire, did you get a haircut?" asked her teacher.

"Kate . . . scissors . . . there," she replied.

Yes, we had a new rite of passage on Sunday morning, when I came downstairs after getting myself ready for church. Since it's a workday for Matt, he's out the door while the rest of us are still in our pajamas, and I end up getting all four of us girls ready by myself (and blowing into church at the very last minute because I'm vainly trying to soak up every minute of weekendishness, sipping coffee and watching the Today show and playing with the kids). Thus, the kiddos were dressed in their Sunday best and unattended while I got myself cleaned up.

I came downstairs, and when I bent over to get BGC off her play mat, I noticed some clumps of long(ish--longer than BGC's, at least) hair on the floor.

In about ten seconds, an entire episode of preschool-CSI went through my head. The hair is golden-brown, so it must be Claire's...either child could have done it...wait, does Claire have the scissor-skills yet to successfully cut through hair? . . . probably not . . . which child is more likely to have indulged such a naughty impulse?

"Kate?!" I accused. Her silence indicated guilt.
"Claire, did Kate cut your hair?"

"Kate!" she said.

"Where?" I asked.

Kate had to point it out, and I still didn't really see it. Claire's hair is so shaggy that I really couldn't even tell where it had been cut. As I dropped the kids off in the church nursery, I noticed a small section in the back, but had trouble finding it again.

To my credit, I was pretty calm. Mainly because hair-cutting is such a rite of passage that so many kids commit, and since the damage wasn't severe, I kept my cool and told her that was not a good thing to do, and that if she ever did that again, there would be consequences.

Even when the girls' hair has needed just a slight trim, I have resisted trying to cut it myself, largely because I didn't want to set any sort of precedent that cutting hair outside of a hair salon was acceptable. And yet, there was no warding off this rite of passage. It comes for us all. I'm just glad no one had to get an emergency hair cut to repair the damage.

Crazy Fits

Claire has been screaming "BEANS!!" over and over again, with varying degrees of despair and tears, for going on a half hour now. I say, "with your dinner, Claire," as I hurry to fix pasta primavera for the rest of the family. Occasionally, she says, "okay," and is quiet for maybe four seconds before starting in again. "BEANS!!!" The girl loves baked beans.

Which got me thinking: what is the strangest thing your kids have ever thrown a fit about?

For us, beans are definitely not it. Not even just looking at today.

This morning, at about 4:45, Kate came into our room sobbing because a ribbon she'd tied around her ankle in a dozen crazy knots (presumably before falling asleep last night) wouldn't come off. So, I fumbled around in the dark to unknot the ribbon so she could go back to sleep.

Not sure that one takes the cake. (I'm inclined to say no, since it was bizarre but easily resolved, but I can't think of any more right now.

What's the craziest fit your kids have ever thrown?

Captain Fun Trap

Did your family watch the live television version of Sound of Music a few weeks ago, with Carrie Underwood? We let the girls stay up late to watch, and though Carrie's acting might have left something to be desired, we enjoyed it and I've especially loved how it introduced my kids to another great musical. (Kate is already a huge Phantom of the Opera fan.)

Since the airing of that live TV special, we've watched it OnDemand a few times (for free), paid to watch the Julie Andrews version OnDemand (only to find that it expired after 24 hours, so we only got through part of it in that time), and watched part of the Julie Andrews version when it aired on ABC last night (only to have our cable go out just before the party scene).

Adieu, adieu, to you and you and you

Kate and Claire now love to sing and act out the songs from Sound of Music, especially "My Favorite Things," and "The Lonely Goatherd" (my favorite). They like the children's line-up too. Kate will hold her hands behind her back, step forward and say "Liesl!" and Claire will do the same thing, saying "He-drick!" (Friedrich). They do this over and over.

Kate has also been saying we need to have seven kids—no, wait, seven more kids—so that we can name them Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa, Kurt, Brigitta, Marta, and Gretl. She says she wants to play Gretl on stage, since Gretl is five and she is almost five. 

Some of the lyrics are "beyond her ken," so to speak, so we've heard some funny twists on the original wording. For example. . .

Captain Fun Trap

Tea, a drink with John and Brett

and my personal favorite,
Meat, a name I call myself.

My Quotable Kids

I'd always heard (or maybe I heard it once and it became law in my mind) that younger children talk later than the oldest child because the older sibling tends to speak for them. This was certainly the case with my husband and his little brother, who apparently spoke nothing until he was two and then it was a complete sentence.

Claire has really surprised us with her vocabulary. At 16 months, she has probably twice as many words as Kate had at 18 months. (Here's my favorite video ever of Kate, naming body parts at 18 months.) Claire seems to lean toward the verbal and fine motor skills, whereas Kate's gross motor skills were so impressive. At Claire's age, Kate was climbing rope ladders and stuff on big-kid playgrounds, and climbing onto and running back and forth on the coffee table! I remember worrying about Kate's language development a little around age two, but obviously she's fine. Kids just develop at different rates and with different strengths!


Roughly in order of her learning them, here are Claire's words:
Daddy, whoa!, kitty, ball, book, Kate, Mama/Mommy, banana ("nana"), yellow, here, Lila (a classmate), cheese! (a smile, not the food), Popi, Nala, Opa (sorry, Granna--you're the hardest!), nose, eye, teeth, no, mine, thank you, help, shoe ("yoo"), baby, ow, and Elmo (which appears to also mean diaper, since Elmo is on some of her diapers).

She's coming out with a new one every couple days now, and it's so fun to communicate with her more. I write each new word in her My Quotable Kid journal so I'll have a record. (Kate's has lots of funny sayings and sweet memories in it, so I'm glad to have one just for Claire too, so they can each keep their own one day, along with their baby books.)


These days, Kate demonstrates her four-year-old verbal skills with increasing . . . personality, shall we say. She has a few go-to exclamations that make us laugh:

Now a big fan of Dora, Kate says "Aw, man!" like Swiper, but added her own spin to often say, "Aw, manners!"

A while back, Kate learned the expression, "No way, José!" (even asking sometimes about Spanish words by saying, "How does José say _____?") but her PK colors are showing, I guess, because now she likes to say, "No way, Hosea!"

When it comes to exclamations of frustration, we definitely have to watch ourselves. She picked up a bad one about a year ago, but she only did it a few times before our lack of reaction (or very calm, "let's not say that; that's not very nice") dismissed the behavior. She does say, "What the HECK?!" like I do, though. Switching to German isn't a cure-all, since we heard Kate saying "Scheiße" repeatedly the other night. Parent tip: act like they've misunderstood you. "Size of what?" I asked her. This works to defuse annoying sayings too. In our house, "nana nana boo boo" has become "banana banana boom boom."

Combining Kate's strong will with the verbal reasoning skills of a preschooler makes for some difficult arguments as well. Kate picked up the use of double negatives from some teachers at her day care, so we're trying to correct "I don't have no shoes," or whatnot into "I don't have any shoes." And while she tries to tell me "no" is okay because Ms. So-and-so says it (arrgghh!!!) she now corrects herself to say "any" with just a look. But, with the legalistic tendency of a preschooler, the word "no" is now verboten (except in terms of general defiance, of course) so when I happen to say something like, "She has no shoes," Kate will say, "Ah, Mommy, it's 'ANY shoes'!" Then we have to try to explain the concept of a double negative and how you can use a single negative either way, and it just gets complicated.

Some preschool logic is just too hard to argue with. 

Yesterday morning, Kate was telling me she is going to be a princess when she grows up. Matt and I both try to combat this, and explain that princess is not a career (click for the Justice Sotomayor/Abby Cadabby video about that). So, I told Kate how you can't just become a princess, it's usually a family business, and that in our country, we have a president, not a king and queen.

"There are only, like, ten real princesses in the whole world, Kate," I told her, expecting a "nuh-uh" kind of retort.

Instead, she said, "Well, then, I'll be the eleventh."

Katemelia Bedelia

Remember Amelia Bedelia, the housekeeper of children's literature fame who takes everything literally? They're such funny books because they tap into this difficult shift children must make in learning turns of phrase that don't mean how they sound!

Kate has demonstrated this literal-mindedness a few times, quite preciously. Consider the following:

Me: "Kate, hang on a minute. I need to hop in the shower real quick."
Kate: "No! You WALK in a shower!"

Similarly,
Me: "I need to run back upstairs real quick."
Kate, seeing me walking: "That's not running. Mommy, THIS is how you run!"

Me: "This song is called 'Lean On Me.'"
Kate: "That's not a good idea. Somebody could get hurt."

Me: "That car is broken down."
Kate: "It's broken? Can they fix it with tape?"
Me: "Looks like the battery is dead."
Kate: "Cars have batteries? Can they put in new batteries?"
Me: "They'll just jump it."
Kate: "Oh. So after they jump on the car, the battery will work again?"

Finally, today on the drive home from church, Kate started singing that kids Bible song, "Be careful little eyes what you see / ears what you hear / feet where you go," etc. I asked her what that song meant, but she didn't know. So I told her, with the example of "Be careful little mouth what you say," how when bad things come out of your mouth, they can hurt people and you can't take them back.
Me: "What sort of bad things can come out of your mouth?"
Kate: "SPIT!"

Kate's Big Sister Tips

Kate's friend Becca became a big sister today. (Hooray for Nancy, John, and FULL TERM, SEVEN POUND baby James!) We are sooo excited for our dear friends.

When I picked Kate up from school today and told her that Becca's baby brother had been born, she said, "We should call Miss Nancy!"

To congratulate her, I guess?

"We should call Nancy to tell her that Becca's baby brother was born!"

I think she knows that, Kate, given she got cut open to get him out. But in any case, I tried to interview Kate about the ins and outs of being a big sister. Kate was much more interested in using a tape measure to measure her arms, Claire's wrists, and my behind (thanks, Kate) so I got some random answers like, "um, vacation Bible school?"

Here are the tips we did glean:

What should Becca do to be a really good big sister?
"Play with him. And with me. Claire can play with Becca's brother and Becca can play with me!"

What should she do when the baby is crying?
"She should say, 'Baby, don't cry!' And giggle with him."

When the baby starts crawling around and getting into her stuff, what should she do?
"She should say, 'No, brother!' and take it out of his hand."

What's the best part about being a big sister?
"Getting my pencil box."

No, that's not a gift she got when Claire was born; it was an item we picked up on the way home today to hold the many markers we've accumulated. What can I say? She's three and she lives in the moment.

If we quizzed Kate about the day to day realities of being a big sister, her response might have included tips on hitting, pushing, and body slamming younger siblings. And a fun game where Kate runs to one side of the room so Claire will chase her in her most determined crawl—then when Claire is halfway there, she runs back to the other side of the room, leaving Claire perplexed but good naturedly doing an about face to follow Big Sister again. 

I'm comforted by the notion that while big siblings may push little siblings around, they also defend them like none other if anyone else dares pick on the little sib. As an only child, I found this frustrating and hypocritical when I tried to join friends in the teasing of their little siblings, only to be rebuked. But seeing my own kids (and being assured by Matt, who has a little brother of his own) I know it's just the way of sibling love.

Congrats, Big Sister Becca, and welcome Sweet Baby James. Kate and Claire can't wait to meet you!

What God Looks Like (according to Kate)

Last February, I told you all about Kate's career goals. When told she could be anything she wanted to be, she said, "I'm going to be naughty!"

I submitted that funny little kids-say moment to Parents magazine's Baby Bloopers section, then for a few months was quite indignant when the issue came out and didn't have mine in there. "Kate's funnier than those kids!" I would say. But then there we were in the July issue! I've been vindicated.

Here are a few of Kate's recent antics.

Last night when we prayed at dinner, Kate was looking up at the ceiling, so we asked her, "What does God look like?"

"A hamster"
"Like a little hamster, or big hamster?"
"A BIG hamster."
Matt asked, "Why a hamster, and not a gerbil or a rat or something outside the rodentia family?"
"Or a bunny?" I added.
"Yeah, a bunny," Kate said.
"Does God keep changing appearances?" we asked. "What does God look like now?"
"A butt crack."

I know he's the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, but sheesh.

After dinner, while eating popsicles outside, we asked her if God had shape-shifted again, and she basically just started naming things she saw outside: "a treetop..." "a bird..."

Kate, are you just naming things you see and saying God looks like them? God looks like... lamp. (name that movie)

***

As we finished our popsicles, we were talking about our family.
"Kate, you and Claire have the same mommy and the same daddy. What does that make you two?"
"Happy."

Awwwwwww.

I don't think I'll share the butt crack thing with Parents magazine. Maybe the condom story, though!

Innuendo from Kate

Two stories for you. 


First story:

One of the many fun things about our beach vacation was simply getting to be lazy in the morning, hanging around the condo and watching the Today show—my favorite. Since Kate was there with me, watching TV, I took the opportunity to educate her on the concept of commercials. I've read that since young kids really can't tell the difference between advertising and regular programming, it's an important part of teaching against consumerism to talk about the purpose of commercials.

So, I told her how commercials are trying to get us to buy something, and how in most cases we don't need what they're trying to get us to buy.

"They're trying to get us to buy a new car, but we don't need a new car, do we?"
"No!"

"They're trying to get us to buy new kitchen appliances, but we don't need new appliances, do we?"
"No!"

And since we've been home, Kate sometimes asks when commercials come on, "what are they trying to get us to buy, Mommy?" We even saw an ad for gulf coast tourism. "They're trying to get us to buy a vacation at the beach, but we just went to the beach, didn't we?" "Yeah!"

This evening, Family Feud was on. Steve Harvey said, "We asked 100 people, what things do makers of adult films not have to spend money on?"

Matt shouts out, "costumes!" as I'm thinking, "ok, Kate doesn't understand the question, right?"

One contestant answers, "condoms."

Kate looks at me excitedly and says, "We don't need that, Mommy! We already stayed in a condo!"

***

Second story:

This morning, Kate suddenly remembered a plaything that "magically" disappeared several days ago (as many useless items in our house do—stickers from the grocery store, a rock from the church parking lot, etc.) "I want my balloon, Mommy!"

"Sorry, sweetie," I answered. "It went down a few days ago. Balloons don't last forever!"

Fast forward to this evening. Family Feud has just been turned off and we're having dinner. Somehow, the conversation turns to my "maternaboobs" (Matt's term for my lactationally-enhanced figure).

"I get to keep them six more months," I said sadly. "Then they'll go down."

"It's okay, Mommy," Kate chimed in. "Balloons don't last forever!"

Tennessee Dream

I was born and raised in Louisville, Ky., and my only exposure to Tennessee as a child was a visit or two to Opryland and the song "Rocky Top," which we enjoyed in spite of the fact that we were UK fans and didn't care a lick for the Vols. I learned great things like why Tennessee folk "drink their corn from a jar." Nonetheless, at age eight, I wrote this very serious letter to my father.

If you can't make that out, it says: "Dear Dad, I've made up my mind, when I grow up I'm going to Tennessee to sing country music, maybe in Opryland." 

(Instead, I became an editor and learned when a period or semicolon would be more appropriate than a comma.)

I even addressed this very important folded piece of paper. And drew a stamp. Why my mother did not merit informing about this great plan, I don't know. Even today, I tend to call Dad when I want to talk career stuff, so maybe that started early. Mom's the one who saved this artifact in my baby book, though. 

In any case, I think it's kind of cool that I ended up living in Nashville, even if the whole "country music" dream went by the wayside, in part because I never actually listened to country music until after I moved to Nashville, and then only for a time in a "can't beat 'em, join 'em" kind of way. Christian publishing is Nashville's other big business, so I guess it's a good second. :0)

When She Grows Up

Kate isn't yet able to tell us things she wants to "be" when she grows up—a doctor, an artist, a yellow fire truck. (I've heard some doozies from kids over the years!) But Kate is starting to use the phrase, "when I get grown up..." not in the context of a career, but as in:

"I don't like coffee. When I get grown up, I will like coffee."
and
"I don't have an office. When I get grown up, I will have an office."

Last night, I took the girls to the library after school/work while Matt was at his class. After checking out some books for Kate, we noticed that a hip hop dance workshop was starting. Sounded like fun, so we stuck around. The woman talked about the history and philosophy of hip hop for about 20 minutes, and then we all learned a dance and did some freestyling! (Hard to imagine, isn't it?)

The song we did the dance to had the lyrics, "I can be anything . . . you can be anything . . . boys and girls can be anything." I liked that affirmation a lot, and as we got in the car, I told Kate how much I liked it, "because you can be anything!"

She thought for a second, and then said:
"I'm going to be naughty!"

The Preparty

Kate loves being three. She announces several times a day, "I'm three now!" She has also said the following:

"Five more weeks and I'll be eight."
and
"Three more eights and I'll be R."

Guess we need to work on her math skills. And on the difference between numbers and letters.

Anyway, plenty of time for that. Just wanted to share real quick the little pre-party birthday celebration we had over breakfast on Saturday. So that the number of gifts wouldn't get out of hand at her party—and so she could enjoy her big gift some during the day—we had her open gifts from Mommy and Daddy over muffins in the morning.

(FYI, if you put a candle in a hot muffin, it will melt into the muffin.)

Then she opened presents, including a couple puzzles and some new clothes (in which she showed more interest than I expected!)

And then, after opening a bike helmet (and wondering what it was), we led her out to the front porch to see her new bike! We'd thought about getting a tricycle, but I thought she was big enough to handle a little 12-inch bike with training wheels.

"What is this thing?"

"Ok, I'll give it a try."

"Here I go!"

Big girl Kate and her bicycle. 

She still needs some practice to get the pedaling motion down, but we'll get lots of practice with this balmy February weather! We haven't gotten home before dark any night this week—church meeting, grocery, Wednesday night church, gymnastics—but the weekend's a-comin'! 

Memories of Two

As Kate approaches her third birthday, let me share a few of the quirks and antics of Kate-at-Two that I don't want to forget (and that—let's be honest—I just want to share with you!)

• The way she said certain words this year, like the C=T sound toward the end of the year here. Claire=Taire, Santa Claus=Santa Taus, candy=tandy, clock=tock, and so on. I also love how the way she says "sparkly" and "broccoli" sound just alike, so when she wears her sparkly gray jumper, it sounds like she's telling everyone "I got broccolis." 
• The way she slept on the floor of her room more nights than not after we moved to our new house. It's nothing against the big girl bed, really; she was sick of the crib even before we moved, but prefers to migrate around the floor of her room all night, surrounded by blankets and other stuffed flotsam. One night, I heard her screaming, and she had migrated into the diaper pail, knocking it over onto herself and thus waking with a giant plastic thing on top of her! She also has nightmares sometimes where apparently she is being forced to do something she doesn't want to do (isn't that every 2-year-old's nightmare?) and screams in her sleep, "I don't want to! I don't want to!"
• The incessant repeating of "why?" and "where is it?" It actually became a (really annoying) game as she would say "Where is it? I can't see it!" and "What you say?" over and over when she actually had no trouble hearing or seeing. (Believe me, hypochondriac me wondered if maybe she did have a hearing or vision problem, but from follow up questions, it is clear she knows exactly what was going on, and is just trying to drive me nuts. She succeeded.)
• In her worst moments, hitting and biting, and having a complete breakdown if we scolded her. Even if we were just giving a mild warning like "be careful," she would get belligerent and say "No talk at me! No look at me!" Those are the moments I won't miss (though in retrospect, they are a little cute). I actually could barely keep from laughing when she would add "any more" to those angry words: "No talk at me . . . any more!" This all hit its peak this summer at 2 1/2, and fortunately is pretty rare now.
• How she used to not be able to stand getting water on her clothes, insisting on changing. (Once, I even "accidentally" got a little water on something she was wearing, since she'd insisted on wearing things that didn't match.) Then, after starting in Ms. Marian's class at school, she started saying, "It'll dry," and tolerating the wetness. Thank you, Ms. Marian!
• In that same vein, it's adorable how she'll try to make light of things that I might get annoyed with, like if she's made a mess or broken something, she'll say, "It's okay, Mommy. Don't worry."  Or even, "It's okay. You can fix it with tape." Or, "you fix it with glue," but "glue" sounds like "goo." It's so cute. 
• She starts most sentences with "Probably" now, even when it's a "definite" something she's talking about. "Probably my dress is blue."
• How "all" goes at the end of the phrase: "When I finish my dinner all, then I have some candy."
• Ever since that fun night when we put on our jammies to go ride around and look at Christmas lights, and I played it up how "crazy" it was to wear jammies in the car, "crazy" has become one of her favorite words. "It's crazy!!" 
• Another favorite declaration lately is, "It's a big mess!" This started with my description of the state of the playroom, such that even before getting toys out, she has said, "I'm going to make a big mess!" And if she sees a lot of stuff in any one place, even if intentional, like the buffet of food I put out on the dining room table for Claire's baptism party and now in preparation for Kate's birthday party, she'll tell me it's a big mess. Thanks, Kate! 

My favorite little quip of hers lately was twice in one week, when we heard announcements over loudspeakers at a gas station and then in the grocery. Kate takes notice and says, "Somebody's talking! Probably Santa."

And another, reflective of the stereotypical child's love of potty humor (which, honestly, Kate hasn't displayed too much): "The red marker is missing. Probably someone threw it in the toilet!" And then she laughs like crazy. For the record, it really is just a joke, not a confession; the red marker has been missing for months and I doubt a Crayola marker could be flushed without us noticing. 

I love how much Kate's vocabulary and imagination have grown this year. I can't wait to see what crazy things she says at age three!

A Real Baby

My best friend and roommate in college did a lot of interfaith studies, and I remember her telling me about a visit she made to a Hindu temple for their celebration of a certain deity's birth. Like many churches during Advent and Christmas, they had a display featuring the infant deity on which to focus their attention and celebration. But unlike the beautiful crèches that have the fancy Jesus-dolly laying in a manger lined with gold lamé, the the Hindu worshipers had the figurine in a swing.

Like an actual, metal and plastic Graco swing. Like many of us have in our living rooms to rock our actual, human, 21st-century-born babies.

It struck us as a fascinating choice and raised interesting questions about the way we think about Baby Jesus. Those manger scenes that we display on our mantles and that people fight to keep on courthouse lawns are so beautiful (well, maybe not those cheap plastic light-up ones) but I wonder if they paint too quaint an image of a pretty, peaceful birth and infancy, and one very distant from our own experience with babyhood. We picture Mary kneeling glowingly beside the makeshift cradle and even if we recognize the roughness and filth of the stable (animal waste—hello!) we probably still don't think about the bodily functions and things that Mary—like any new mom—would have been dealing with. Breastfeeding, spit up, pee and poop...

Three years ago, when I was eight months pregnant with Kate at Christmastime, I reflected a lot on Mary's experience of expectation, feeling the baby move within her, etc. This year, with a newborn at Christmastime, I've thought more about these basic things of infant care that we often never think about Mary doing. I've sat there feeding Claire and thought about Mary nursing the Son of God at her breast, staring into his eyes and wishing her sweet baby a life of health and happiness . . . before he spits up all over her or her other boob leaks milk through that nice blue robe she's always shown wearing.

Kate—like most small children—doesn't see Jesus or the nativity with the unearthly glow that we do, though. She knows that Christmas is Jesus' birthday and that our depictions of Jesus at Christmastime are of him as a baby, and having watched me with her baby sister these last six weeks, she knows what babies do. She demonstrated for us at dinnertime last night, bringing the figures from our "nice" nativity (i.e. not her wooden Melissa & Doug one or the wooden Advent calendar with its rudimentary nativity scene) to the table and playing with them. Not wanting to perpetuate the idea that Jesus is untouchable (even if it meant the figures might get broken, which they didn't) I let her keep playing with them throughout the meal.

And what did she do? She put the tiny, two-inch Baby Jesus figurine on her shoulder, patted him, and said "Jesus needs to burp." She laid him down on the table, lifted his bottom, and said, "I need a wipe. I need a diaper." She even held his little mouth up to Mary's chest so he could eat.

She got it. The nativity means that the Messiah was born as a real, human baby, and all the stuff that brings with it. It was the beginning of a life through which God experienced the roughness of life on this earth. Through which God was with us. Immanuel—God with us. Immanuel doesn't just mean glowing, awe-struck wonder. It also means wet burp rags and dirty diapers.

Prodigal Cat

I wanted to give a little update on our little escapee.

Charlotte has been even more social and cuddly than before since returning home from her two-week "adventure." I guess she missed us—or realized how good she had it here in the warm, dry house with plenty of food and people who love her! She often spent the days on our bed before, but now she's on the couch most of the time, since Claire and I are in the kitchen/family room most of the time. And if we're all up in Kate's room, putting her to bed, Charlotte is there too—our family of five on the little twin bed.

Since Kate was asleep when Charlotte made her amazing return, mowing at the back door after dark on Nov. 18, I was curious how she would respond when she realized the cat was back. Since she had gone to bed at 5:30 (falling asleep in the car), she woke up at 11 pm, when I found her playing with some of my stamps in the office/scrapbook room off our master bedroom. I went in and knelt next to Kate, telling her she would need to get back in bed, when Charlotte walked in.

"Charlotte's back!" Kate announced. "Now you not be sad anymore!"

I thought it was so sweet that that was the first thing she thought of. Indeed, Kate's main association with Charlotte's disappearance was how it made me sad. When I was crying the day we realized Charlotte was missing, Kate asked, "What's wrong, Mommy?" and I told her, "Mommy's sad because Charlotte is missing." And for the next day or two, Kate and I would talk about that occasionally.

A week or so later, when we were driving around the neighborhood slowly, looking at front yards and porches (Matt and I both looked like robbers casing the joint for those two weeks, taking the long way in and out of the neighborhood whenever we would go somewhere) Kate asked me, "Are you still sad, Mommy?" When I said yes, she paused for a moment and then said, "You not sad! You not crying!"

I was, but I honestly refused to let myself mope around beyond that first day or so—with a brand new baby at home, and valuing my two human children more than my beloved "first child," I had too much to be happy about to let myself wallow in sadness. Nonetheless, it was such a joy to have Charlotte return. Though she ultimately came back on her own, I still owe a debt of gratitude to my wonderful in-laws, who searched for her, hung signs around our neighborhood, and called shelters for us.

It's truly amazing that she survived, with no front claws or experience living outside, or a microchip or tags to help if someone picked her up. She now sports a nice collar and tags—and sounds like a small dog now, jangling around the house! I took her to the vet the following day just to get checked out (and since I'd slacked off on getting her shots ever since Kate was born) and the vet said just how lucky she was.

She's a lucky cat indeed, and we're a lucky family!

Kate Says

Kate has learned some new vocabulary words in the last week, including "onesie," "burp rag," and "boobies." The bouncer she calls a "see-saw."

The other night, as I was pulling down my nursing top to feed Claire, Kate said, "Your boobies keep falling down, Mommy!" Thanks, Kate.

I've also already been told, more or less, to butt out of the sisterly girl talk. She was talking quite normally at lunch the other day, and when I responded to what she said, she told me, "I'm not talking to you, Mommy. I'm talking to my sister."

This morning, I witnessed what I thought might be the sweetest thing ever. Kate was rocking her dolly and singing a modified version of her and my "special lullabye." "Rock-a-bye Dolly, in Mommy's arms..." As she closed with "I'll love you forever and you'll love me too," even touching the doll's nose the way I do hers at that part of the song, I thought I would just melt. And then she chucked the doll across the room.

Yes, She's Excited

Probably the number one question we get (after the obvious, "when are you due?") is "So, is Kate excited about getting a little sister?" And our usual response is, "kind of, to the extent she understands."

Though I've read that you really shouldn't bother telling a young child about a new baby until a month or so before it's born (since long periods of time are essentially meaningless to them), we told Kate right away and have seen the various stages of her understanding, or lack thereof.

• For a long time, she insisted she had a baby in her belly too. 
• After we got her a Big Sister book, she started to get the big/little, me/baby concept. 
• She went through a time of seeming frustrated when we would talk about Baby too much (watching my belly for movement, or even looking at an album of her baby pictures). 
• A nicer development was naming her baby doll "Sister" and involving the doll in reading stories and such.
• Only in the last month or so has she used Claire's name regularly, praying for "Baby Taire" and using "Baby Sister" and "Baby Claire" interchangeably. 

And now that the time is drawing near, just when I really worried that this long build-up would make the whole thing seem imaginary, like a real baby was never going to actually show up (pregnancy can sometimes feel that way to adults, too, I think!) she actually does seem interested and excited about what's coming.

She'll comment on how big my belly is, and is more willing to kiss or talk to the baby when I suggest it. She seems clear on the fact that Baby won't do much at first, but that, as the big sister, she can talk to Claire and teach her about things, and that Claire will love to watch her and think she's the coolest. Kate seems to understand that Baby is coming out of my belly soon and that then we can see her and hold her. I've explained that when Claire comes out, my boobies will make milk for her, just like they did for her. I even briefly mentioned the difference between nursing and pumping, but figured, "eh, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Tonight in the bathtub, we looked at my big belly and together urged Claire to come out. We told her how much fun it is out here and about all the fun things we'll do together once she's out, like take baths and go to the zoo.

Eager to get this party started, I ate spicy nachos tonight for dinner (the same ones we used to "smoke Kate out" when she was four days overdue) and we took a long walk. Kate played on her swingset when we got home and I walked brisk laps around the swingset, which seemed to annoy Kate.

"Stop, Mommy!" she said.
"I'm trying to get Baby Sister to come out," I said.
"Baby Claire's not coming out," she replied.
"She's not? When is she coming out?" I asked.
"Soon," Kate said.
"Soon like . . . before Trunk or Treat tomorrow night?"
"Yes."

So there you have it. Kate's official prediction is that Claire will be born sometime Wednesday. Good to know. And even better to know that, even if it's not Wednesday, she will be out "soon," whether that's tomorrow or next week sometime.

Peewee the Piggy

Of all the little things I adore about Kate, one of my current favorites is the way she says "piggy." Just have a listen...



(The correct video is up now. Sorry for the confusion!)

Elmo Needs Socks

I told you so.