Bopril

School Days

Yesterday, we met R's new teachers, checked out the new classroom (from a zebra last year to a bumblebee this year -- is that backwards?), and enjoyed a pancake breakfast with buddies old and new.

I love the beginning of a new school year. Blank pages to color, infinite learning ahead. Will she start to read? It's possible. Will she have to navigate emotional ups and downs? Likely. Will she thrive? With my entire heart, I hope so.

Be gentle with my still tiny girl, you big and beautiful world.

Next week, we start her final year of preschool. She's ready. Me too.

Good Night, Three

“When I have said my evening prayer,

And my clothes are folded on my chair,

Mommy and daddy switch off the light,

I’ll still be three years old tonight.

But from the very break of day,

Before the children rise and play,

Before the darkness turns to gold,

Tomorrow I’ll be FOUR years old…

Four kisses when I wake,

Four candles on my cake.

A goodnight kiss for the three year old

To send her to sleep and to dreaming.

And blessings to the four year old

Who’ll climb out of bed in the morning.”

*from The Birthday Book

I ached for her long before I experienced the joy of knowing her. She sets my life and heart on fire every day, and I don't take for granted the gift I'm given to steward her journey. As ever, I am excited for what lies around the bend. 

Happy birthday, my love. 

 

Halloween Parade and Party

We are so happy with Rowan's new school. Today was their Halloween parade and party, and it was such fun to hang with the other parents and all of our sweet kiddos decked out in their spooky finery.

There is nothing better than a great school community, and I know our girl is going to thrive there. There's such fun ahead.

Happy Halloween weekend to all!

Good Night, Two

“When I have said my evening prayer,

And my clothes are folded on my chair,

Mommy and daddy switch off the light,

I’ll still be two years old tonight.

But from the very break of day,

Before the children rise and play,

Before the darkness turns to gold,

Tomorrow I’ll be three years old…

Three kisses when I wake,

Three candles on my cake.

A goodnight kiss for the two year old

To send her to sleep and to dreaming.

And blessings to the three year old

Who’ll climb out of bed in the morning.”

-from The Birthday Book

Two was a glorious year, and I'm ecstatic to experience all Three will bring. You light up our world, sweet Rowan Marie.

Happy Third Birthday!

 

Milestones

It’s been a big week around here. Prompted by a subtle suggestion from R’s teachers last week, we decided to give potty training an official go on Monday. By Wednesday, she was a pro with no accidents, and we haven’t looked back. She’s still using a pull up for naps and overnight, but otherwise has embraced her undies for all other hours of the day, including extended trips out and about for errands and the like. I’m sure we’ll have setbacks here and there, but I’m reminded again of her resolve and of what a smart little sponge she is. 

As if that weren’t enough, the Paci Fairy finally visited us yesterday and we bid adieu to the paci-at-sleeptime habit that has provided my stellar sleeper comfort her entire life. I underestimated how emotional this one would be. We began in the morning with great excitement over the letter and surprise left by the fairy, but were decidedly less enthusiastic when it was time to actually go to sleep and reality set in that there would be no paci. She spent two hours in her room, and I think roughly 30 minutes of that featured sleeping, if at all. The rest was a mix of whining and calling out for “Daddy!” and “Mama!” in an alternating sad-fest of “wipe my nose,” and sundry other requests to summon us upstairs. Daddy retreated outside to take care of house chores (and remove his ears from the action), and I went up at alternating intervals to soothe her and remind her how brave she is. At the two-hour mark, I got her up and congratulated her on a job well done. 

Rowan’s nighttime routine has long been an easy and relaxed affair with her willingly going through the motions of teeth-brushing, jammies, prayers, songs and books (and a bath on alternating nights). Since she was five months old, all she has required is her paci and Ellie and she plops willingly into her crib and drifts off to dreamland. Last night, she began whining when I first mentioned bedtime and continued all the way through. It broke my heart because I could see that she was very anxious, and after I finally got her settled, I cried and cried thinking about how difficult it must be for her to essentially find a new way to soothe herself after all this time. As she always does, she rose to the occasion and slept the entire night, waking at 6:15 this morning. We promptly headed to Starbucks where a celebratory cake pop was in order for this sweet, brave girl.

(I’d be remiss not to document our exchange at bedtime: Rowan: “I want Graham’s paci since mine is gone.” Me: “Graham is still a baby and he needs his paci. You’re a big, brave girl and you don’t need them anymore!” Rowan: “ok, so I can have my paci when I’m a baby again?” — Sweet, clever girl. Quite the negotiator!)

I worried we waited too long and made this harder for her. I worried she’d wake throughout the night, unable to settle herself. I worried most of all that she would spend even one moment unsettled or afraid in her room, a place that we’ve worked diligently to turn into her safe haven. I worried, because that is what I do. I worried because I am her Mom, and for her whole life we’ll need to sort through tough things among the joyful ones, and while I’ll always plan it out and hold us to it, I’ll still cry all the tears that my Mama heart needs to expel. This particular love still astounds me every day. 

To close out this milestone and make way for so many to come, I stumbled upon this Q&A last night from a grandmother who has four grown children and four sweet “grands.” I wish I could find her to tell her that her words found this Mama of babies right when she needed them most. I’ll do my best to remember this. Every day.

Q: Please finish the sentence: I wish someone had told me…

A: That everything would be okay. That all is well, and all will be well and all manner of things shall be well. I wish I had known just how fast time really would go by. I wish I had not been so hard on myself. I wish someone had told me that my family was perfect, just like it was, right in the middle of our broken places, and during some of our worst struggles. I wish someone had told me that we were doing just fine, even on the so-called bad days.

 

 

School Days

All summer, we have talked about school. Rowan has known for a while that her teacher is Miss Sarah, that she'll make new friends and read books and do art projects and sing songs and play and practice being a good listener at school. She's been excitedly talking about it for weeks, and while the majority of her excitement involves getting to wear her "pack pack," she's shown genuine interest in school every time we've talked about it.

Today was the big day. I labeled her things and filled out her forms and tucked pictures of our family into her file. I laid out her outfit and prepped her one last time as I tucked her into bed last night -- "when you wake up tomorrow, you will get to go to school!" "I'm so excited, Mama! I go to school, I wear my pack-pack!"

And this morning, I fed her breakfast and let her do her normal, favorite things. Then I got her dressed and propped her in front of our door with her official sign to mark the occasion. We drove the five minutes from our house to the school, and she walked in like the big girl she is.

Today was only an hour with half the class, and parents were asked to stay. Tomorrow is again just an hour, but she'll stay and I'll go. She did great today. There was a little shyness and fingers-in-mouth at the beginning, but soon enough, she was exploring the stations and toys and new friends with no regard for where I was. Toward the end, she wanted to be held and didn't want to participate in circle time, but those are new routines, and I know she'll adjust in time. This will be so good for her, and she will love the structure and the socialization and the new experiences. And tomorrow, she won't know it, but Mommy will be close by, circling the neighborhood with Graham in the stroller until it's time to pick her up. :)

She's only two, and this is only pre-pre-school, but I still marveled at how quickly the time goes as I stood back and watched her today. Didn't we just bring her home from the hospital yesterday? There are many, many school days ahead, but today was her first, and she embraced it with her usual, awesome spirit.

Godspeed, my beautiful girl. Learning is such a grand adventure, and I am so excited for what lies ahead.

Good Night, One

“When I have said my evening prayer,

And my clothes are folded on my chair,

Mommy and daddy switch off the light,

I’ll still be one year old tonight.

But from the very break of day,

Before the children rise and play,

Before the darkness turns to gold,

Tomorrow I’ll be two years old…

Two kisses when I wake,

Two candles on my cake.

A goodnight kiss for the one year old

To send her to sleep and to dreaming.

And blessings to the two year old

Who’ll climb out of bed in the morning.”

-from The Birthday Book

We love you, Rowan Marie. Welcome, two.

A Date With Rowan

Yesterday, Graham spent some time getting acquainted with Nanny B and I set off for a morning adventure with my big girl.

We enjoyed our beloved chai latte and yogurt pouch at Starbucks and then headed for the zoo. It was a picture perfect day, not a cloud in the sky, and we rode the carousel and the choo choo and set out to see as many animal friends as we could. There were tigers and zebras and monkeys and bears and so, so many birds. We didn't make it to the giraffe or polar bear exhibits this time, but they're on the top of our list for the next trip.

Zoos still make me a little sad and so does knowing that I will soon be away from my girl (and boy!) for much of the work week again. But oh, it was a lovely, special day. I think we both need many more just like it.

"Go to the zoo with Mommy! So much fun. I yike it!"

"See so many animals. Bright sunshiney day!"

"Rode the choo choo and a Ginny!" (All giraffes are Ginny to R, and that was her animal of choice on our carousel ride).

She fell asleep on our way home and I drove quietly, glancing at her in the rear view mirror from time to time. Savoring the moment and feeling so damn lucky that she's mine.

Little Blue Car

Over the weekend, Rowan's little blue car was stolen from our garage. I've had an unusually strong reaction to the incident, and have found myself in tears over it a few times.

On the surface, this is silly. It's just a toy, and although she adores it and asks for it regularly, we'll get her another one and she will be none the wiser. But for me, it felt especially violating to know that someone walked into our garage in the two minutes it was open and purposely took a child's toy. My bike was also stolen from our garage a couple of years ago, but my reaction to that was completely different. I let it go easily, figuring that he or she must have needed it more than me and even wishing them many happy rides in my head. 

This time though, I've been so sad. Of course, it is about more than just the toy. I'm in a sensitive place right now as I prepare to return to work, and my days are tinged with sadness alongside joy, feelings of a lot of "lasts" and of course, guilt. Experience tells me that the anticipation is worse than actually doing it, but still. I am sad. The stakes are higher in some ways this time; there are two of them to miss, two different stages full of amazing moments that I won't be here to see. I think that sad has permeated my psyche pretty deeply, and so my reaction to the "little blue car incident" was intensified.

What I needed was a little perspective. I found it.  And then I clicked through to the full story, and this chapter in particular, and I found some more. I'm holding that entire family in my heart tonight, and sending a lot of love and light their way. I just can't imagine, and their grace awes me. 

Suddenly, the loss of our little blue car seems trivial. And so now I just hope that somewhere there's another little kiddo grinning from ear to ear as our car transports her wherever she needs to go.

Park Dynamics

Dear Rowan,

Yesterday was a pretty good day. We went to two different parks, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, and that's an especially fun day for you because the park is your happy place.

You certainly tried my patience off and on; you're doing that more and more as you near the two-year mark and I am working on keeping my frustration in check as much as I'm working with you on expressing your emotions in better ways than, for example, hurling yourself to the concrete, howling. We'll get there.

But yesterday morning at the park, your showed your true spirit and it was the first of many times that I'm going to want to wrap you in a bubble and protect you from anything and anyone that might hurt your feelings or cause you harm. 

It was an innocent interaction; the park was exceptionally crowded thanks to lovely weather and kids of all ages and sizes were swirling about every play structure. You went to your favorite slide and I followed as closely as I could while also toting Graham in the double stroller. You went up and down a few times before encountering a bit of a traffic jam on the stairs.

There were two little girls, one looked to be about nine and the other was probably two or three. The smaller one's jacket was bedecked with hearts and you gently touched her shoulder and said "you have hearts on...so pretty!" She jumped down and ran to her Mommy without a word. The second (and older) girl had a tutu with little flowers all over it. You tried again..."your dress have flowers! so pretty!" She looked at you and she looked at me and with all of her nine years of wisdom and sass, she said "this is NOT a dress...it is a TUTU" and she tossed an impressive eye-roll in for good measure. I gently informed her that you don't really know the difference and that you really liked it, either way. Off she went to another part of the play area.

You were mostly unphased and unaware, but you did pause for just a second to look at me, and after I smiled and nodded at you, and told you it was so nice to compliment the little girls, you continued on your way. And in that second, I felt the weight of all the minutes and hours and days of encounters to come as you get bigger and the playgrounds get a lot more complicated. Oh my precious girl, hold tight to that sweet spirit of yours. Don't let the world and its complicated people with their complicated emotions take it from you. We all need it. I'll be right here behind you all along the way, so keep looking back at me. I'll keep you full to the brim with reassuring nods and whatever else you need.

Love, 

Mommy