The Nutcracker

When I was growing up, one of our Christmastime traditions was to get out the Tchaikovsky record and dance around the house to The Nutcracker Suite. The needle on our record player would skip any time we jumped on the floor, so you can imagine the scratches this record accumulated after repeated exposure to our synchronized "Russian Dance" jumps. PBS used to broadcast the Baryshnikov version on Christmas Eve, and my sisters and I watched it (while dancing) every year. Then one year, my dad took me to see a production of The Nutcracker while we were living in Wisconsin. I don’t know if it was a professional company — it may have been a performance at a community college, for all I know. But we had to drive a long distance in our VW van to get there. I remember sitting close enough to the stage to see the dancers’ shoes and I remember how vivid the costumes were for the Waltz of the Flowers. I thought it was one of the most amazing things I'd ever seen. Needless to say, I have a strong connection to The Nutcracker.

Years later, I learned that my dad had pawned most of his coin collection in order to take me. I was shocked about this revelation and it still induces many emotional responses: We were really that poor? He was willing to pawn something he spent years collecting? For me?

So this year, to jump-start that crazy build up to Christmas, I showed it to Penny. I checked out my old favorite from the library — the Baryshnikov version, which is the One True Version, and brought it home. And she was enthralled. That was the ultimate litmus test; I decided that if she could sit through it at home, then maybe she was ready to see the real thing. The story has everything — action, adventure, whimsy. A mysterious godfather, wind-up life-sized toys! A mouse king! The Nutcracker turns into a prince! And Clara saves him!

Ballet West does an annual production of The Nutcracker and I wanted desperately to go. But the website said that the recommended age was 6 years old and I was worried that taking Penny might be a bad idea. What if she freaked out? What if she wouldn't stay in her seat? What if she shouted through the whole thing: “MAMA! IS THAT CLARA? MAMA! IS THAT THE MOUSE KING?” What if we got kicked out?

But we took a gamble and went for it anyway. I splurged on tickets and bought one for Grandma too. In the days leading up to the show, I reviewed the rules of the theater with Penny: You have to stay in your seat. You can’t talk, you can only whisper. I felt like I was being harsh, but I wanted the rules to be well established. And it worked. Penny was marvelous even though she didn't feel that well the night of the performance.

Capitol Theatre is gorgeous. The seats are covered in dark red velvet. There's an an enormous chandelier and the ceiling is decorated in gold leaf detail. And Ballet West's production was truly amazing. The costumes were brilliant, the music was phenomenal. I was overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it all and had an unexpected emotional experience. My eyes watered multiple times, especially during the Waltz of the Snowflakes. As I sat holding Penny's hand under the gilded ceiling, I thought about my dad, and of the things we did together as a family to expand our minds. He taught us that stuff is just stuff; that doing things together is what's important.

Naturally, this Christmas was rather Nutcracker-themed. We bought Penny her own copy of Baryshnikov's Nutcracker, so I can stop racking up late fees at the library. I found an excellent collection of paper dolls that you can punch out and put on stage to reenact the story. And one of our friends gave Penny a cupcake set with Nutcracker liners and cupcake toppers. We had so much fun this Christmas. I can't wait for next year, so we can go again and establish another tradition.

Still Here

Hi, we're still here. We've had a lot going on. Here's a recap of the last month or so:

1. Penny is getting a BROTHER sometime around January 25th.
2. I survived neuroanatomy. Next up is 8 weeks of vestibular pathologies. Goodie.
3. Penny started preschool this month - more on that below.
4. Penny's grandparents have been in Italy for the last 3 weeks and will be gone for another 2 weeks. So there has been some upheaval in Penny's life and in her routine, combined with the general anxiety that comes with starting school and being three.

Penny's school is everything I had hoped. There is art hanging on almost every wall of the room. There is lots of time to play, inside and outside. They get to go on oodles of field trips, which are mostly nature walks and the like. Her teacher is awesome, and Penny's adjusted pretty well to classroom life — class rules, circle time, snack time, etc. But we had a rocky start. The first two weeks, Penny would wake up and announce that she didn't want to go to school, and Britt and I had to bust out the pep talks to get her mentally prepared to go. And there were a couple of mornings where she wet her bed (!!), which had not been an issue before.

I haven't been able to have much involvement in Penny's life at school. My work schedule is the same days as Penny's class schedule, plus grandma and grandpa have gone abroad. So our dear friends, to whom we will forever be indebted, have been helping with carpooling (their daughter and Penny are in the same class) and then Penny plays at their house after school, until I can come and pick her up. The poor kid has had to adjust to everything at once and I've had to stop myself (a couple of times) from regretting my new job.

But things are getting better. The first week, I was getting reports of outbursts about having to share toys, and any other number of slings and arrows related to interacting with other children. You may recall that Penny's "outbursts" take the form of Screaming Banshee Fits, which sound like she's been mortally wounded. So the first thing Penny learned at school was to "use her words." After her first day, she came home and told me, "Mama, tomorrow I will know my words."

Her teacher told me that she's fine and has been doing a lot better. I finally had the chance to volunteer in her class today (which is a requirement of the school, and a good thing), and it was fun to see how the class works. Penny was a little more clingy since I was there, but I was amazed to see her let loose on the playground. She climbs on all of the equipment and goes down the big slides, laughing all the way. She can do the fire pole (!!) and loves the tire swing. I was standing there thinking, "Who is this kid?" when a couple of the other moms came up to me and told me how sweet Penny is. And I said, "Really?"

Is it bad that I was surprised to hear that she can be sweet? I know she is. She's actually very thoughtful and articulate. But here's the thing: the screaming issue has improved at school, but it has not improved at home. I feel like I bear the brunt of her ire. She's fine until I pick her up, and then suddenly, she's whining and helpless and the littlest things send her into a giant screaming spiral. And our friends have to endure it too, although they assure me that she's fine until I show up. So what is this about?

I'm telling myself it relates to the upheaval. She's going to be a big sister. She misses her grandparents. A lot of her time has been spent away from home and away from me. I think it will get better. It has to.

Meanwhile, Penny's class is going on a field trip to the mountains tomorrow, to look for leaves changing colors. I wish I could go. But she'll have a good time and it will be another day of adventure, another day of using her words and making new friends. Another reason to be excited about school.

Vacation, Had to Get Away

I can't believe the month of July almost escaped without a post. I have some pretty good excuses, though. One of them is that we went on vacation for two weeks at the end of June. When we got home, we had the post-vacation insanity of catching up on everything that went to hell while we were gone, like work and school (did I mention I'm back in school?). Oh, and I got horrendously sick during the last leg of the trip and needed a couple of days to recover. But the important thing is, we had an honest-to-god vacation, just the three of us.

Part One of our trip started out with Britt's family at a place called Six Lakes in Eastern Utah. We had never been there before, so we weren't sure what to expect. The high desert of Utah has a certain beauty - the cacti were pink and yellow and in full bloom. The sky was clear and blue. Lizards and rabbits were everywhere. Everything smelled like sage and juniper. We had bunk houses right on our own lake, so Penny got to have her first rowboat experience. Going out on the lake was a nice way to cool off, because it was hot out there. Six Lakes also has the distinction of being where Penny overcame her fear of pooping in the potty. I didn't think she would go for using strange toilets in strange locations, but she didn't have a single accident. Subsequently I showered her with candy.


Our bunkhouse.

Part Two of our trip was an adventure to the Oregon Coast. We went from the dry desert to the damp coast and saw a refreshing drop in temperature. It was wonderful. We rented a little beach house at Seal Rock and spent four days poking around tidepools, exploring different beaches, and checking out the aquarium. I hadn't been to Oregon in about 30 years. Britt visited the coast many times while he was growing up, so it was fun for both of us to relive some childhood memories and remind ourselves that there is still an ocean out there.


The view from the beach house.

Other notable successes during the trip:
1. Penny took off her shoes on the beach. It took a couple of days for her to warm up to the idea, but she finally got brave enough to try. And then she didn't want to put them back on.


Really getting into it.

2. Penny touched starfish. Last time we were in California, she was unwilling to touch the starfish in the exhibit at the Birch Aquarium. But this time, Britt found a little red one that was too cute to resist. After that, she touched as many as she could find.



3. We had a 15 hour drive to Oregon (twice - there and back), and Penny didn't have any accidents. And she was a pretty good sport, considering we were all sick of the car by the time vacation was over. Next time though, we're going to fly. That drive was ridiculous.

(There are more pictures on Flickr).

When Things Happen in Threes

Forgive me if this post goes into too much detail, but I would be remiss if I didn't try to explain the recent chaos in my life and describe what was one of the worst weeks we've had in a long time.

In the midst of changing jobs, I had been wrapping things up with the old job so I could start the new one, which included one last trip out to the boonies. When I returned, I discovered one of my tires had a flat. Fortunately it happened overnight in the parking stall, so at least it didn't blow out while I was driving on the road. I even managed to get the lug nuts off the tire and the car on the jack by the time Britt arrived to help me get the spare on. We shall call the flat tire Rupture Number One.

That weekend, Penny developed a fever and said her ear hurt. She was very specific about which ear was bothering her; it was her right ear, not her left. She didn't have a runny nose or a cough, but I'd had a sore throat for a couple of days, so I figured she was coming down with another cold. I alternated Tylenol and Ibuprofen for her fever and pain, and hoped she'd be better in a couple of days. Note: Ear infections usually resolve on their own, it was the weekend and my doctor wasn't in, and she seemed ok otherwise.

That Tuesday morning, I woke up because of a stabbing pain in my uterus. It was blinding, constant pain—not cramps, which come on and dissipate; this was like nothing I'd experienced before. I couldn't stand up. I started sweating profusely and I felt like throwing up. As I was lying on the nice, cool floor, I calculated where I was in my cycle and concluded there was no way I was pregnant. Penny brought me a blanket and covered me up while I sent Britt a desperate text. He came home as soon as he could and took us both to our doctor. Penny's fever had spiked and she was still complaining of ear pain, so we thought, let's take this party to the waiting room!

The theory is that I had an ovarian cyst rupture; which would be Rupture Number Two. Apparently this happens to women, although this was a new experience for me. It hurts like hell when it happens, and then you're ok. And I was ok, after a couple of hours. Ladies, has this happened to you? How come no one talks about it? Meanwhile, Penny definitely had an ear infection in her right ear and we started her on antibiotics. We also stopped at McDonald's on the way home and Penny and I both got Happy Meals, even though they don't contain any real food. It just sounded good.

Wednesday night, Penny had been asleep for a couple of hours, then woke up crying. I comforted her for a bit, and noticed her hair seemed damp, as if she'd been sweating. She said her throat hurt. I gave her some water and held her for a while, and then she went back to sleep. The next morning, Britt said, "Um, her ear is draining. A lot."



Which brings us to Rupture Number Three.

*We interrupt this post to explain how the middle ear system works:*
Our eustachian tubes help equalize the pressure in our ears. Children have smaller heads, so their eustachian tubes are shorter and more horizontal, so when kids get sick with colds and congestion, the tissues surrounding the eustachian tube swell up, and basically pinch it off. This creates a nice little vacuum in the middle ear space behind the eardrum. The resulting pressure draws fluid out of the membranes in the middle ear, which accumulates behind the eardrum. This fluid is a nice breeding ground for bacteria, so the fluid can become infected when bacteria gets in there and multiplies. In severe cases, the eardrum can rupture because of the build up of infected fluid behind it.


Penny's rendition of a bear with "yucky" ears. :(

So, that dampness I thought was sweat was actually infected middle ear fluid from Penny's ruptured ear drum. She wasn't in pain anymore, as the pressure was alleviated when her eardrum burst. Also, the eardrum is a remarkable thing—it can heal itself. But I felt like a negligent monster. I see kids with draining ears all the time at work, but having it happen to your own child really puts things into perspective. Penny's ear oozed goo for a couple of days; they don't tell you in school that it will get all over clothes and bedsheets and and matted in hair. Yuck.


No fever and no pain; time to mess with the cat.



Anyway, we survived. I was able to pack up my office that weekend, thanks again to Britt, who helped with everything behind the scenes, and I started my new job last Monday. Whew. Looks like I'll be bringing Penny in to see some friends of mine to make sure her ear heals.

Snow Days

2010 ended with freezing temperatures, so instead of living it up on New Year's Eve, we went into hibernation instead. It was less than 5 degrees and snowing, and the roads were icy, so we were happy to hunker down. But the next day brought the New Year and some sunshine, so we decided to try out Penny's new winter gear.


You just can't beat purple snow pants.

I have some good childhood memories of making snowmen and playing in our back yard, but I don't remember lasting too long in the cold. I remember my mittens getting encrusted with snow and my fingers turning pink. I only recently learned how to ski, before Penny was born, and I was surprised to discover that being outside in the cold can be fun, as long as you stay warm and dry. And there's gear for that! Wow, winter just became exponentially more fun.

Penny and I both received new snow boots for Xmas, so we put them on and outside. Ooh, there was lots of pristine snow to mess up:






Snow castles are almost as fun as sand castles.

I'd forgotten how satisfying it is to make snow angels. Penny hadn't really seen one before (with the exception of the ones Peter makes in The Snowy Day), so I showed her how to do it. It turns out it's impossible not to laugh while you're lying down in the snow.



Before long, (as predicted) Penny's mittens became encrusted with snow, and her little nose was bright red. So we trudged back inside to warm up.



Last weekend, we attempted sledding at Penny's cousins' house. Since Penny had never been, she didn't think to protest when I put her on the sled with me. We weren't on a very steep hill, but we picked up a bit of speed, enough to make me shriek and giggle; enough to convince Penny she certainly wasn't doing that again. But she happily cheered us on, and laughed when Britt and I careened off track and tipped the sled over.

Today, it's raining, and the snow is almost gone. I'm not holding my breath for spring just yet, but it might be nice to make some more angels before the snow melts away completely.

And a Happy New Year

How is everyone? Did you survive the weekend? For a minute there, I wasn't sure we were going to make it. I don't know if it was stress from the regular holiday insanity, but Penny and I didn't get along well last week. Every day was Opposite Day, the Word of the Week was "NO," time outs were threatened and enforced. I nicknamed her the Bipolar Baby because her mood swings were so extreme, I wondered if there was an adolescent trapped in her two year old body. She was crying one minute and laughing maniacally the next. I had an emergency play date with my sister-in-law and her kids, and it helped immensely (although it did involve the extrication of a traumatized Penny from the upper tier of a local play-land).

On Friday I had to go to 5 different places with all of the other last-minute shoppers and I dragged Penny along with me, and in hindsight, she put up with a lot. Also, I think there were some underlying fears about Santa, which I finally picked up on after Penny said, for the tenth time, "I don't like Santa."

Part of our problem was we went into party mode, as any self-respecting member of my family does this time of year. Penny stayed up too late, slept in too late (I never thought I would ever say that), and was surly as hell. Then Christmas morning came, and there were presents from Santa, and presents with Britt's family, and presents with my family, and Penny was totally overstimulated.


Seriously awesome rocking horse from our cousins in CO. Olivia is along for the ride.

Fortunately, Opa came to visit, and for the first time, Penny said, "Opa, you come play with me?" And how could he resist?


Drawing with Opa.


Using up the purple.

And now, she's back to her normal, (relatively) reasonable, adorable self, and we're friends again. She has many new things with which to play, and now that the chaos has waned, she's been telling jokes, like this:

Penny: "Mama, say Knock, Knock."
Me: "Ok, Knock, Knock!"
Penny: "Who there?"
Me: "Interrupting Cow."
Penny: "Come in!"



Also, she's been expressing her own opinions about songs on the iPod or the radio, and admonishes me if I change songs. "Mama, I like this song, don't change it." LIKE I would switch away from New Sensation!

Speaking of expression, the easel was pure genius, if I do say so myself. Penny received oodles of art supplies from her family (who got the memo from Santa) and she creates something new every day. She's already used up the purple pastel and the red and green ones need replacing as well. And this makes me very happy. I want 2011 to be full of art, of reading more together, of doing at least one thing with Penny every day that makes me feel like I'm doing a good job fostering her imagination, her creativity, or her emotional well being. Even if a whole day is crap, if I can point to one thing every day and say, "That was great when we did ____ together," then I think that will make for a pretty good year. And I think we can do it.

Flying Solo

I have never taken a major trip without having a 2:1 adult-to-child ratio, so I was nervous about flying to Denver without my Wing Man. The last time Penny flew on an airplane, she was too little to remember. This time, she was well aware of the hubbub in the terminal; all the bustling people, the tension emanating from everyone in the security line, the tension emanating from ME, and the roar of the planes coming and going. Grandpa helped us check our suitcase and the carseat, and we took only the diaper bag and (per the excellent advice of our friends), the umbrella stroller through security so I could prevail over any toddler-dawdling once we were inside the terminal.

Everything went well until it was time to board. I explained to Penny that we couldn't take the stroller on the plane, but we would get it back when we landed. She was distraught when I checked it at the gate, as though I had given away a prized possession. Then as we were boarding, she declared she was not getting on the plane, and went completely stiff in my arms. So I hurried to our seats, with my petrified, hollering child, avoiding eye contact with everyone we passed. I noticed people inserting their earplugs and iPod earphones, to combat the hysterical screaming coming from our side of the plane. Penny would NOT sit. "Noooo!" She screamed. "It too noisy!" "I...(sniff)..don't (sniff)...want..my..(sniff) SEAT BELT!" She was only marginally upset while sitting on my lap, but was furious when I buckled her into her own seat. She screamed for 15 minutes. And that's when I knew I was the mom with that kid. You know, the one who totally ruins your otherwise enjoyable flight.

Flight attendants kept asking (over the din) if I needed anything, and I smiled weakly at them, refraining from requesting tranquilizers. My fight or flight response was so intense, I momentarily considered getting off the plane. But then I realized that was irrational. I paid for these tickets, we're GOING TO DENVER, goddammit. Distraught toddler or no.

And then, from all that effort, she collapsed in my arms. We hadn't even left the runway. She curled into a ball with her head in my lap, still strapped in, and was out like a light. Poor thing. By the time she woke up, we were in the air and well on our way. That's when she realized that flying is fun. Hey Penny, check out this tray table! Guess what? We get snacks! Here's an awesome book I've been saving for just such an occasion! Want to color? I've got new markers!


Tiger by Mommy, cave by Penny.

When we landed, she exclaimed, "I did it!" And someone nearby applauded.

Meanwhile, we had a fabulous time in Denver. I went to a workshop while Penny played with our cousins and took a trip to the Butterfly Pavilion. We also visited the Denver Botanic Gardens, which is festooned with Christmas lights, and they also have Henry Moore sculptures on display. It was a visual feast, and we warmed up with hot cider and sugared almonds. There was much visiting and quality family time, in addition to a long-awaited play date with our friends Eli and Gray, who are even cuter and more cherubic in person. We had an absolute blast.

Flying home was cake for Penny, now that she knew what to expect. We had a frank conversation about seat belts before boarding, and she was the perfect little traveling companion. The couple next to us even said so!

And then, we couldn't land. Literally. The fog (that turns people inside-out) was so terrible in Salt Lake, we had to stay in a holding pattern for 20 minutes above the airport before the pilot finally gave up and took us back to Grand Junction. My brain could not compute this. I had spent my last joule of energy entertaining Penny, first at the gate, and then on the plane. We had already maxed out every possible activity (including barf bag puppets) and now we couldn't get home.


Welcome to Grand Junction, CO.

The Grand Junction airport is small. Their dining establishments consist of a Subway, which had a 40 minute line; filled with hungry people from several other diverted flights. At this point, Penny was impatient and generally opposed to the idea of standing next to me in line. And I was tired. The Subway ran out of bread loaves and had to fill orders with flatbread. We rallied, had a picnic on the floor of the terminal, and waited anxiously for any word of boarding again. Fortunately, a colleague of mine was on the same flight, so I had someone to talk to, to help me wrangle Penny, and to keep me sane. THANK GOD.

Five hours later, we made it home. Britt, who hadn't seen his baby girl for four days, returned to the airport for the second time to rescue us (the first time, he braved the fog and was waiting at baggage claim when our little detour was announced). I was beyond happy to see him.

And now, I feel rather invincible, like I could do anything or go anywhere. I took my child on an adventure and we rocked it. Thanks to everyone who drove us around and hosted and entertained us and fed us. Let's do it again (someday).

Fighting the Humbugs

In 3 more weeks, it will be a new year. This boggles my mind. And in the 3 weeks since I last posted, we had Thanksgiving in Wyoming (which was great), Penny and I flew to Denver (more on that later), I went on another overnight work trip, and we promptly came down with The Crud (the doctor's official diagnosis).

But this weekend, we managed to get into the Xmas spirit a little, by decorating the tree and making cookies. I wasn't sure we were going to be able to jam both activities into the same evening, but Penny was really into it. And I briefly felt like Martha Stewart.





Otherwise, I'm not remotely ready for Christmas. I've barely done any shopping, and instead of venturing out this weekend, I went back to bed in an attempt to sleep in between coughing fits. Bah, Humbug!

To React, or Not?

We are in the thick of toddler life, which means that we are mostly having a lot of fun. Penny cheerfully converses (with me and her dolls) all the live-long day, and she's gotten really good at entertaining herself while I'm cooking and cleaning and doing all of those other things that have to be done. But more than ever, I'm faced with myriad on-the-spot decisions about how to react in any given moment, and it hurts my head. I'm constantly asking myself, "How big of a deal is this, really? What should my reaction be?"

Example 1: Penny is etching the kitchen cabinet with a ball point pen.

Example 2: Penny is constantly sniffing air in and out of her nose to a certain rhythm, even though it isn't running and she doesn't seem to need a kleenex.

Example 3: Penny is dawdling all the way to the car, and once she's in the car, she refuses to get in her car seat, saying, "This how my sit?" as she sits on the cupholders across from her seat. "This how my sit, Mama?"

Example 4: Penny declaring she WANTS to go to time out.

See what I mean? #1 was kind of a big deal, but we'd never actually had a conversation about not scribbling on walls or cabinets before, and since that wasn't some innate kernel of knowledge already stored in her brain, how was she supposed to know? I reminded her that we only draw on paper, not on walls or on cabinets, and she hasn't done it since, nor did she fall apart when she thought she was in trouble, which is an improvement from past experience(s).

#2 drove me absolutely crazy, and she knew it too, which is why she kept doing it. I got her to stop by threatening to use the "booger sucker," which she despises.

#3. This tests my patience to the absolute limit. The dawdling, the messing around, the not getting in her seat. The problem is, I'm usually in a hurry to get somewhere, and then I feel like crap for rushing around all the time and not letting her take her time. Why are we always in such a hurry? Why is it so important to sit right down in her seat? And when she says, "This how my sit?" it is really funny. So I usually try not to laugh go along with it, as long as it isn't raining or snowing on me while I'm trying to get her in her seat.

#4. At the point where I've threatened a time out, and she agrees that it should happen, time out ensues. Call my bluff, will you? Plus I've started adding a minute. Then she's usually ok, as though she really did need a couple of minutes to think about things.

Then there are other thorny issues, like constantly agonizing over whether or not to make her try new things, so she can "be brave," or letting her just be herself. If I intentionally put her in situations she doesn't like, am I forcing her to be someone she's not? How will she know if she likes something if she doesn't try it? Where can I find that balance without adding pressure? This came up at Lagoon, obviously, but there are little things every day, like not wanting to pick a song during toddler group, or not doing something in dance class that everyone else is doing. And I usually just say, "That's fine, you don't have to." Because I don't think I need to be a complete jerk. Because at the end of the day, it's not that big of a deal when you're two. I have to remember that she's only two!



And then there's potty training. We are using cloth diapers 50% of the time at this juncture, which is mostly because I work part time. I'm so tempted to go cold turkey and buy real underwear and have potty boot camp, but the other part of me wants to wait until she warms up to the idea more. But when will that be? If I don't have her try it every day, will she ever want to do it on her own? I have no idea. Will the kinder-gentler approach eventually yield a result, or should I be trying harder to make "potty time" consistent? Do I need to resort to tangible reinforcement with little rewards? I'm not sure I want to go there. Do I even want to push the issue over the break when we'll be traveling a lot in the near future, or should I seize the next 5 days?

Parenting is hard. Note to self: She's only two.

Trick or Treat

Halloween in Utah is weird, especially when it falls on a Sunday. And maybe it's weird in other states as well, but I don't recall it being an issue to trick-or-treat in Wyoming on a Sunday, but then again, my memory is a little fuzzy and I was probably more preoccupied with candy at the time. Anyway, every 6 years or so, there is a question about whether to go out on Saturday, or on Sunday, or both. You don't want to look too greedy (oh, who am I kidding?) but you also don't want to look like an idiot, if you are out there, and NO ONE is handing out candy. I know some rather mean-spirited people who refused to give out candy on Saturday, simply out of principle. I also know some people who didn't cater to those who waited until Sunday. All I can say is, thank goodness Halloween will be on Monday next year, so we won't have to worry about it.

But I digress. We were greedy buggers this year, so Penny went trick-or-treating on Saturday with her cousins, and then I took her around our neighborhood on Sunday. Saturday was pretty much a repeat of last year, with Penny sleeping over with her Aunt, Uncle and cousins (plural, now), while Britt and I went to a grown-up party. The two of us. And then we went home. Together. Yep.

Saturday it rained buckets, but Isabelle and Penny were undeterred:



Then Sunday, I told Penny we could go out again after dinner. While I was doing dishes and cooking (I know that doesn't seem like correct order of action, but that's how things are done around here), I told her to keep an eye out for any trick-or-treaters, so she could give them candy. She waited expectantly by the door, so patiently, occasionally calling out that no one was coming. After the third or fourth time she made this observation, Britt went downstairs, raided the costume box (yes, we have one of those), and came up wearing a pirate hat. He went out the side door, so Penny wouldn't see him, came up the path and knocked on the door. Penny was startled, but recognized him immediately as her Daddy, the Pirate. She laughed and gave him candy, and said, "Happy Halloween!"

Then he came back in and went downstairs, and repeated this five more times wearing different costumes. Penny was thrilled. And my heart sang. I like it when it does that.

After dinner, Penny donned her costume, declared it was "her turn," and we went out to see what was going on in our neighborhood. And it was pretty quiet out there. Every couple of houses had a porch light on or the universal beacon of lit pumpkins, so we made a few stops. Most neighbors were dazzled by Penny, the magical fairy princess, and insisted she take extra candy. And then we made the ill-fated stop at the house with the scary clown.



Oh, if only I had known a teenager wearing a demented clown costume was going to answer that door. Penny was positively freaked. And the low, muffled cackling emanating from the rubber clown mask didn't help. I pried my quaking toddler from my leg, thanked the clown and hurried down the block, explaining to a very worried Penny that the clown was just a guy! Wearing a costume! For Halloween! Isn't Halloween fun?

At the next house, a little boy in pajamas (he had gone out on Saturday) answered the door and informed us we were only his 6th visitors. Penny immediately told him about the clown, as he seemed a worthy confidant. Then he warned us against going to the house across the street, where we might get "buzzed." Not wanting to find out what that meant, we decided to pack it in.

And now, the candy negotiations have begun. No, you can't have candy before dinner. No, you can't have more M&Ms, it's time to brush your teeth. And so on. Also, there's candy in my house, which is not a good idea. We need to come up with a better idea for the "treat" part.

I always get a little depressed after Halloween, because it marks the start of the long winter of my discontent. It gets darker and colder, Britt will be working ungodly hours, and I'm not ready to think about Christmas, even though there was already Christmas candy in the Halloween candy aisle at the store.

But I shan't dwell on that right now. For now I will think about how much Penny likes to dress up and dance around the house and how she tells me she loves me every day, "I wub you, Mama." And love like that can get me through any long, cold winter.

Mother of the Year.

Can a day go by without some measure of mental flogging on my part because of some parenting mistake I've made? I know there is no such thing as a perfect parent (there had better not be). But here's the horrible thing I did:

We had discounted tickets to go to Lagoon, so we went with the Fam. Penny would have been pleased as punch to ride the carousel a million times, and I should have just left her alone. But her cousin (the daredevil) was having a blast on the other rides, so I thought maybe Penny should branch out a bit.

First, we tried the boats. We really talked them up and said she could ride with her cousin. That got her excited, because she loves to do whatever Isabelle does. The boats are connected in a circle, floating on a small amount of water, and they have little bells for the kids to ding and steering wheels to steer while they go in their happy little circle. Fun, right? Penny barely tolerated it. She looked worried the whole time, as though thinking, "You can drown in two inches of water..." But she didn't cry! Hooray, we thought. Let's try another one!


Aboard the ill-fated "Goldfish."

Next came the cars, which seemed innocuous enough. The cars go on a little track, with no real steering involved. The only drawback is parents can't ride with their kids. So we watched Penny's cousin and her little friend go first, and they had a grand old time. Then we stood in line and watched child after child get in, take off, and come back around the track. Penny said she wanted to do it. I explained I couldn't go with her, but look how much fun it is! Whee! Then it was her turn, and the ride operator helped her get in. She panicked as the car jumped to life, ambling along the track. But she was already on her way, her cries of protest fading away from me.

Britt was on the other end of the track, waiting for her to appear. He reports that she seemed ok coming around the bend, but that as soon as she saw him, she lost it. And that's when I realized that we are really big jerks.

She made it back to me, escaped the clutches of the horrible car, and we cheered and applauded, and told her she was very brave. And yet it wasn't the end of our ruthless "this is good for you!" experiment.

It started to get hot, so we decided to cool off by going on one of the water rides. We thought, it will be like splashing in the kiddie pool! She'll love it! We can all ride together! But we neglected to consider that there wouldn't be enough weight in the boat to steer away from the waterfalls.

Have I mentioned that Penny hates to get splashed? I mean, no one loves a big splash in the face (except Penny's cousin), but Penny finds it particularly offensive. So of course, with each bump and spray and oops! and wow, that's a really big waterfall coming up, was cause for alarm. Isabelle laughed and screamed and giggled. And Penny sobbed. When it was clear we couldn't steer away from the waterfall, I threw myself on top of her in a foolish attempt to keep her dry. Did I mention the water was cold?

We've never gotten that drenched before. Britt and I were soaked to the bone. Our pants and shoes were sopping. Afterward, I realized I had only packed an extra shirt for Penny, not pants. Yep, Mom of the Year, right here. I forced my kid to endure cold splashing water and didn't even bring a dry outfit.

So, to make it up to her, we hit the carousel for the rest of the day. Later that night, she refused to go to sleep, even though she was utterly exhausted. I think she had some lingering separation anxiety from that horrible car incident.


All better, now.

Penny can recap the experience in her own words: "I like merry-go-round. I don't like the cars. I don't like that WATER." And each time she says that, I feel worse. I wonder if my attempts at forcing bravery will backfire completely. Have I lost her trust? Will she be willing to try it again in another year? Or will she go running for the hills? And is it wrong that a teeny part of me thinks the whole thing was just a little bit funny? God, I'm a jerk.

More Parenting Fails can be found on a recent post at Flotsam. Reading the comments made me feel slightly better.

Yellowstone 2010

Yellowstone is one of my favorite places in the world. It is a sacred place for me, which sounds so hokey, but it's true. My parents loved it too, and as kids, we used to visit at least once a year. We haven't been there since my mom died, partly because we've been busy, because we didn't have the kind of time it takes to go through the Park. And mostly because we haven't been emotionally ready to go back there, without my mom.

But this year, we felt compelled to go. I was ready. I wanted to take Penny on the first of many pilgrimages to Yellowstone.



We had trouble finding a place to stay inside the Park, but scored a wonderful cabin outside of West Yellowstone. Even though it was late in the season, the Park was still busy. People have discovered what we already knew, that September is the perfect time of year to go. The leaves are just starting to turn, the weather is mild, and the wildlife is "active."




Lovely Norwegian Fjord horses, grazing behind our cabin. (Not native to Yellowstone).

Penny was unbelievably good in the car. It takes a while to drive through the Park, because of the "must stop" attractions like Old Faithful, the interesting scenery, and the occasional bison crossing. Any time you can get out and inspect a thermal feature, or get a better look at a distant elk herd, you must! It was challenging to coax Penny into getting back into the car once we had stopped to look at something. But she handled it well, considering her legs were probably constantly numb from sitting in her carseat.



If you haven't been to Yellowstone, you must go. I always see something I haven't seen before. I'm already wondering when we can go back.

Bouncing

Remember how satisfying it is to jump? Sometimes I forget. A couple of weeks ago, Penny and I went to visit a friend for a mini-play date, and Penny was introduced to the world of the trampoline. She got to experience the thrill of getting extra air, and those split seconds of free-fall. You know that extra bounce you get when someone comes and jumps right next to you? Penny thought that was hilarious.

This weekend, we went to the Annual Labor Day Celebration hosted by Britt's Union, and although we didn't win that elusive flatscreen TV, there were lots of fun things to do, including a whole bunch of bounce houses. Penny and her cousin bounced most of the morning, undeterred by the older kids who kept coming in and then back out again. Some of the other bouncy contraptions had inflated mazes and slides, which looked like they might devour small unsuspecting toddlers. So we stuck with the basic one, and although Penny asked me to go in with her, I just didn't think that would be prudent. There was a point when she finally had to be extricated from the plastic jaws of the thing.



And then I was stuck on this for the rest of the day:



If you like oddball British Comedy, you should get acquainted with the insanity of The Mighty Boosh. Penny's not old enough to watch it, naturally.

Happy Labor Day!

Fore!

Last weekend, we ventured out to enjoy the FREE mini-golf course at the Salt Lake Art Center. All of the holes were created by top local artists (and some from around the country). We hadn't been mini-golfing in ages, and this exhibition was a fun excuse to go downtown and support the arts.

This one was one of my favorites, made out of yarn. Those fashionable surgical booties on Britt's feet were to protect the course. They didn't have Penny's size.


Fore!


Thwack!

Mini-golf is the best kind of golf because you don't have to be good at it to have fun. Parts of the course were intentionally designed to be hard, if not totally impossible, so it was both challenging and entertaining.

This one was aptly named "Pissing Into the Wind."



I'm glad we went—it was fun to get out of the house and do something different. If you're here in town, the exhibit ends September 16th.

27 Months Old

Dear Penny,

Oh, dear. We seem to be in the thick of the "terrible twos," not that I care for that term. You are certainly not terrible. But we are navigating some difficult terrain, punctuated by daily screaming fits. We can usually get through most of the day, but right around dinner time, logic and reason fail, communication ceases, and you totally fall apart. And then I have to tell you to breathe, to calm down, and tell me what's wrong. Sometimes this works, and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes trying to put what's wrong into words causes you to melt down all over again. These mini-Chernobyls are accompanied by the waving of hands and near-hyperventilation, and it might be comical if it weren't so appalling.

But it's not all high drama. Mostly you play and laugh and read and draw and play some more. A couple of weeks ago, we went to Idaho to visit our extended family. You saw your Great Grandma Ruth, and met some Great Aunts you had never seen before, and after your shyness wore off, you gorged on deviled eggs and baked beans. You swam in the hotel pool and you got to sleep in a big bed with your mom and dad. I'm pretty sure you think that the hotel was "Idaho."

You have an uncanny ability to make me laugh. When you play, you use different voices for your dolls and stuffed animals, to jazz up their conversations. One night, while we were trying to get you to go to sleep in "Idaho," I caught you sticking your finger up your nose. I told you not to pick your nose. Then, you took your dolly's fingers and stuck them in your nose. And I said, "No, dolly, don't pick Penny's nose." So then you made your dolly pick her own nose, saying, in your cute little dolly voice, "Oh! I got boogers!"

And I'm not one to condone booger humor, but this made me laugh until I cried, and you were exceedingly delighted.

Also, you have perfected the evil eye. See?





Meanwhile, your potty chair is collecting dust, because you shun it. So I will continue to (try to) be patient, until you are ready to use it. Because if there's one thing I've learned these past 27 months, is that you will do things when you are good and ready. I'm sorry I get frustrated sometimes; it feels good to say that. We're in this together. You will always be my baby.

Love,
Mom

Tea for Two

My friend Mindy recently came up with a cunning plan to have a surprise tea party for Penny and her daughter, LC. The plan involved covertly packing our girls' respective fancy dresses in our diaper bags and keeping the whole junket a secret. Penny and I spend most of our time lazing around the house in our skivvies, so whenever we get dressed, she thinks it's a special occasion. So she said, "Where we going?" And I told her it was a surprise. This really piqued her interest and she asked 100 more times, "Where we going? A Prise?" Oh yes, the "Prise" of your life, kiddo.


Gimme some knuckles!

So Mindy and LC picked us up, and took us to LC's Grandma Georgia's house, who had prepared a feast fit for two little princesses, complete with miniature homemade frosted cupcakes and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut into the shapes of teddy bears. When I grow up, I want to be Grandma Georgia.


The feast.


These cupcakes are divine!

Incidentally, Georgia has a room in her house dedicated entirely to the whims of her grandchildren, with Raggedy Ann dollies and Fancy Nancy books, and tea sets, and fairy wings for dressing up. Now, I've said before I don't love the whole princess mentality, and I'm fully aware that I'm encouraging it. But seeing Penny playing dress-up with her friend while wearing fairy wings was one of the highlights of my summer. And Penny still talks about her "Prise" at "Grandma George's." That surprise is going to be hard to top.


Fairy wings! Eee!

Meanwhile, Penny and I still try to go to the library on my days off, and I'd been kicking around the idea of attending the Preschool Story Time instead of Book Baby, which is our usual haunt. I was worried Penny wouldn't like it as much, because Book Baby has short stories, lots of songs, and most importantly, bubbles. But it also has a lot of babies, and sometimes it can be a little hard to hear the stories and the music over the noisy baby ruckus.

So today, we tried the older group. I noticed most of the moms and dads were sitting toward the back or holding younger siblings, while the other kids were right up front. There was no way Penny was going to sit up there alone, so she sat on my lap and we participated together. The woman in charge read three entertaining stories involving funny birds: Boo Hoo Bird, Chick, and Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! The kids were enthralled. Next came the "Two Little Blackbirds" rhyme I had totally forgotten about, complete with felt blackbirds on popsicle sticks for each child to use, followed by some free play with instruments and streamers. In short, it was awesome. Penny was younger than many of the kids, but about the same age as some of the others. She's right in between the two story groups, so maybe coming to the preschool group will be good practice for school.

I'm so not ready to think about that yet.