I didn't have a terrific mother's day. I got sunburned trying to get our mulching done, I had to fight with my pharmacy for the umpteenth time trying to get my flexible spending account card to work right with them, and we had to juggle cars so we could drop Jason's off at the shop for what could end up being expensive repairs.
But this morning as I was throwing together my lunch and getting Ainsley some juice, I saw the card she made for me in preschool. On the front is a picture she drew of the two of us; we kind of look like big spiders because she attached our arms and legs right to our heads. We look very happy, and Ainsley told me that she's smiling in the picture because we're at the park and she loves it when I take her to the park.
In a few days, my sunburn will fade, everything will be straightened out one way or the other with the pharmacy, and Jason's car will be working again. All the things that, in my mind, "ruined" mother's day will be forgotten. But that little card...that, I will keep forever.
Showing posts with label Ainsley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ainsley. Show all posts
Monday, May 14, 2007
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Snuggin' With Simba
I love The Lion King. More importantly, my daughter loves The Lion King. Until The Little Mermaid came out on DVD last year, Simba and company were her go-to video friends. Even after being introduced to Ariel and Prince Eric, she prefers the Lion King CD over all others on car trips. Hearing her sing her version of "The Circle of Life" is one of the great pleasures of my life.
So when we heard that the musical The Lion King was coming to town, we knew we had to make that Ainsley's first theatrical experience. Jason and I had seen if when it came to town 4 years ago, when Ains was just a baby. It remains one of my favorite memories--how do you not get a little choked up during the opening when all the animals come down through the aisles? It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.
We were a little worried Saturday morning. Our tickets were for the Saturday matinee, and that's the time of day Ainsley usually naps on weekends. We figured the excitement would carry her through. What we didn't figure was that she would be up and at 'em at 6:30 that morning.
I am happy to say that even though she was tired and very overdue for her nap, she did very well. Her eyes got so big during "The Circle of Life"; you could tell she was having a hard time taking it all in and knowing what to look at. During the first act, she was absolutely rapt.
During the intermission the eye-rubbing and crankiness started to set in a little, but the bird puppets buzzing over our heads as the performers entered to start the second act had her pretty entranced. She dozed off a little in her daddy's lap right before Scar and Simba fought, but woke up for the end. She got so excited during the curtain call when everyone applauded for such a long time--she didn't want to stop! That may have been her favorite part.
She has been sleeping with a stuffed Simba every night this week, so her experience must be sticking with her. Ainsley loves to cuddle with a stuffed animal; she calls it (and this is so cute to hear her say) "snugging." Her all-time favorite snugger is Lumpy, the adorable little purple elephant from The Heffalump Movie. He has to be under her arm at night or sleep just isn't possible. She gets that from me; rumor has it I slept with a stuffed animal by my side right up until we adopted our first real live animal when I had long been a married woman. My all-time favorite snugger is the baby Simba a thoughtful boyfriend (so thoughtful that I later married him) bought for me when I cooed over it in a toy store after The Lion King first came out in theaters. He's been washed and passed on to Ainsley. The last few nights when I've tucked her in she's had Lumpy on one side, Simba on the other. It's too precious for words.
It's a wonderful feeling when you share something you love with your child, and she loves it more even than you do. It feels even better than snugging with a favorite toy.
So when we heard that the musical The Lion King was coming to town, we knew we had to make that Ainsley's first theatrical experience. Jason and I had seen if when it came to town 4 years ago, when Ains was just a baby. It remains one of my favorite memories--how do you not get a little choked up during the opening when all the animals come down through the aisles? It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.
We were a little worried Saturday morning. Our tickets were for the Saturday matinee, and that's the time of day Ainsley usually naps on weekends. We figured the excitement would carry her through. What we didn't figure was that she would be up and at 'em at 6:30 that morning.
I am happy to say that even though she was tired and very overdue for her nap, she did very well. Her eyes got so big during "The Circle of Life"; you could tell she was having a hard time taking it all in and knowing what to look at. During the first act, she was absolutely rapt.
During the intermission the eye-rubbing and crankiness started to set in a little, but the bird puppets buzzing over our heads as the performers entered to start the second act had her pretty entranced. She dozed off a little in her daddy's lap right before Scar and Simba fought, but woke up for the end. She got so excited during the curtain call when everyone applauded for such a long time--she didn't want to stop! That may have been her favorite part.
She has been sleeping with a stuffed Simba every night this week, so her experience must be sticking with her. Ainsley loves to cuddle with a stuffed animal; she calls it (and this is so cute to hear her say) "snugging." Her all-time favorite snugger is Lumpy, the adorable little purple elephant from The Heffalump Movie. He has to be under her arm at night or sleep just isn't possible. She gets that from me; rumor has it I slept with a stuffed animal by my side right up until we adopted our first real live animal when I had long been a married woman. My all-time favorite snugger is the baby Simba a thoughtful boyfriend (so thoughtful that I later married him) bought for me when I cooed over it in a toy store after The Lion King first came out in theaters. He's been washed and passed on to Ainsley. The last few nights when I've tucked her in she's had Lumpy on one side, Simba on the other. It's too precious for words.
It's a wonderful feeling when you share something you love with your child, and she loves it more even than you do. It feels even better than snugging with a favorite toy.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Big Girl
Now that Ainsley has moved into her "big-girl" room and bed, I guess it's official: she's a big girl. And her mom is a big, blubbering mess because of it.
Ainsley is my first child, but because of my medical history and the possibility that she will be our only child, she's also my baby. I've been both thrilled to see her grow up and hit all those milestones that are supposed to make my parenting life easier--first steps, first words, adult food, potty training--and sad because each step takes her a little further away from me. You want your babies to be healthy and strong and to learn to take care of themselves, but learning to take care of themselves means they don't need their mommies as much.
We've all been guilty of babying her too much. She was the first grandchild for my parents in 14 years, and their only granddaughter. In the first two years of her life her mom faced a life-threatening disease and her grandfather died; in our worry and grief I think we all clung to her a little tighter and did things for her rather than teaching her to do for herself. But in the last school year, the first year that's she's attended her learning center full-time, she's gotten more independent and more sure of herself. She doesn't want to be our baby anymore; she is her own little strong-willed being and she asserts her independence at every turn. I've gotten a glimpse of the young lady she will become, and it's made for both some of my happiest moments as a parent and some of my most heart-breaking.
Earlier this month she balked at me calling her "Ains." When we named that child, we swore we would never shorten her name or call her any nickname, but early in the game my mom started calling her "The Ains" and it stuck. Now I get corrected when I call her "Ains"; she lets me know, in her child-like but assertive little voice, that she wants to be called "Ains-LEY!" I have a feeling that our "Mommy" and "Daddy" titles are about to get updated, too; last night in the shower during yet another discussion about Ains v. Ainsley, she asked if she could call me "Mom" and Jason "Dad." I've spent the last 4 years seeing myself as a "mommy"; I don't know if I am ready to be a "mom" with all its connotations of a more grown-up mother-daughter relationship.
There are times she has a teenager's attitude. Tell her to do something like put away a toy when she is already on her way to pick it up, and you get "But I am putting it away!" and a look that tells you you're just too clueless for words. Ask her to do something she doesn't want to do and she lowers her head and looks at you with angry eyes and clenched eyebrows in an early attempt at a dirty look. And her latest comeback when we get angry with her? "I don't want to live in this house anymore!" My mom tells me she's just testing boundaries and asserting her personality, but I fear her headstrong ways foreshadow major battles when she hits her teen years. It's enough to make me want to skip head to her college graduation.
Oh, but what I would miss if I did that. I would miss her surprise hugs, when she suddenly drops whatever she's doing to wrap her arms around my legs and say, "I love you" for no obvious reason. I would miss how sweet she smells after her bath at night and how soft she feels cuddled up next to me at storytime. I would miss watching her sleep flush-cheeked with her best friend Lumpy tucked under her arm. I would miss her telling me that she wants to be a mommy and a dancer when she grows up and her absolute faith that anything is possible. During those times, when she's doing those pure and innocent things that young children do, I can forget that she's growing up and will soon be too cool to want goodnight kisses and ask me to sing songs with her at the top of our lungs with no adult embarrassment or self-consciousness. A few minutes a day, she's still my baby, even if she is in a big bed in a big room that she helped to decorate.
In her mind, this move from her toddler bed and nursery has made her a big girl. In my mind, she will always be the little baby who watched the pastel animal mobile and counted on mommy and daddy for everything. Throughout our lives together I will have reminders that that baby is becoming her own person--the first day of school, the first lost tooth, the first heartbreak, graduation, her wedding, the births of her own children. I imagine many of our struggles will be because I see the baby when I should see the young lady.
Giving birth and staying up all night with a crying newborn is hard. Letting go and letting her grow up? So much harder. But more and more I see that that's what being a "mom" is really all about.
Ainsley is my first child, but because of my medical history and the possibility that she will be our only child, she's also my baby. I've been both thrilled to see her grow up and hit all those milestones that are supposed to make my parenting life easier--first steps, first words, adult food, potty training--and sad because each step takes her a little further away from me. You want your babies to be healthy and strong and to learn to take care of themselves, but learning to take care of themselves means they don't need their mommies as much.
We've all been guilty of babying her too much. She was the first grandchild for my parents in 14 years, and their only granddaughter. In the first two years of her life her mom faced a life-threatening disease and her grandfather died; in our worry and grief I think we all clung to her a little tighter and did things for her rather than teaching her to do for herself. But in the last school year, the first year that's she's attended her learning center full-time, she's gotten more independent and more sure of herself. She doesn't want to be our baby anymore; she is her own little strong-willed being and she asserts her independence at every turn. I've gotten a glimpse of the young lady she will become, and it's made for both some of my happiest moments as a parent and some of my most heart-breaking.
Earlier this month she balked at me calling her "Ains." When we named that child, we swore we would never shorten her name or call her any nickname, but early in the game my mom started calling her "The Ains" and it stuck. Now I get corrected when I call her "Ains"; she lets me know, in her child-like but assertive little voice, that she wants to be called "Ains-LEY!" I have a feeling that our "Mommy" and "Daddy" titles are about to get updated, too; last night in the shower during yet another discussion about Ains v. Ainsley, she asked if she could call me "Mom" and Jason "Dad." I've spent the last 4 years seeing myself as a "mommy"; I don't know if I am ready to be a "mom" with all its connotations of a more grown-up mother-daughter relationship.
There are times she has a teenager's attitude. Tell her to do something like put away a toy when she is already on her way to pick it up, and you get "But I am putting it away!" and a look that tells you you're just too clueless for words. Ask her to do something she doesn't want to do and she lowers her head and looks at you with angry eyes and clenched eyebrows in an early attempt at a dirty look. And her latest comeback when we get angry with her? "I don't want to live in this house anymore!" My mom tells me she's just testing boundaries and asserting her personality, but I fear her headstrong ways foreshadow major battles when she hits her teen years. It's enough to make me want to skip head to her college graduation.
Oh, but what I would miss if I did that. I would miss her surprise hugs, when she suddenly drops whatever she's doing to wrap her arms around my legs and say, "I love you" for no obvious reason. I would miss how sweet she smells after her bath at night and how soft she feels cuddled up next to me at storytime. I would miss watching her sleep flush-cheeked with her best friend Lumpy tucked under her arm. I would miss her telling me that she wants to be a mommy and a dancer when she grows up and her absolute faith that anything is possible. During those times, when she's doing those pure and innocent things that young children do, I can forget that she's growing up and will soon be too cool to want goodnight kisses and ask me to sing songs with her at the top of our lungs with no adult embarrassment or self-consciousness. A few minutes a day, she's still my baby, even if she is in a big bed in a big room that she helped to decorate.
In her mind, this move from her toddler bed and nursery has made her a big girl. In my mind, she will always be the little baby who watched the pastel animal mobile and counted on mommy and daddy for everything. Throughout our lives together I will have reminders that that baby is becoming her own person--the first day of school, the first lost tooth, the first heartbreak, graduation, her wedding, the births of her own children. I imagine many of our struggles will be because I see the baby when I should see the young lady.
Giving birth and staying up all night with a crying newborn is hard. Letting go and letting her grow up? So much harder. But more and more I see that that's what being a "mom" is really all about.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Cinderella's Magic Table Update!
We have a spot for the big Disney World character breakfast--Cinderella's Magic Table! And I didn't even have to sync up my cell phone to call at precisely 7am or anything.
I learned that you can call to make reservations for character meals at Disney not 90 days out like I was told, but 180 days out. Since we are well past the 180-days-in-advance mark for our vacation, I lost hope but thought I would give it a random shot yesterday afternoon in the event that the wheel of fortune was tipping back up in my favor. The gods must have been smiling on me yesterday, for reserving a spot at this legendarily-hard-to-book event was a easy as picking up the phone on a random Wednesday afternoon.
Just goes to show you--don't believe the hype.
I learned that you can call to make reservations for character meals at Disney not 90 days out like I was told, but 180 days out. Since we are well past the 180-days-in-advance mark for our vacation, I lost hope but thought I would give it a random shot yesterday afternoon in the event that the wheel of fortune was tipping back up in my favor. The gods must have been smiling on me yesterday, for reserving a spot at this legendarily-hard-to-book event was a easy as picking up the phone on a random Wednesday afternoon.
Just goes to show you--don't believe the hype.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Out of the Mouth of Ains(ley)
A conversation between me and my little darling last night after bathtime:
"Come here, Ains, and let me put lotion on your back."
"It's Ains-ley!"
"Oh, I'm the mom and I can call my baby 'Ains' if I want to."
"Well, I'm the daughter and you can call me 'Ainsley'."
Okay, diva.
"Come here, Ains, and let me put lotion on your back."
"It's Ains-ley!"
"Oh, I'm the mom and I can call my baby 'Ains' if I want to."
"Well, I'm the daughter and you can call me 'Ainsley'."
Okay, diva.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Things That Go "Yak" In the Night
"Ainsley threw up in her bed."
Nothing will rouse you from a NyQuil-induced slumber like hearing your kid has thrown up. I went from comatose to high alert in .5 seconds and found myself cleaning up one of the worst messes I've ever seen.
Ains doesn't tell us when she throws up at night. We always just have to...discover it. From the looks of it, she had actually fallen back asleep in her own vomit last night. If Jason hadn't checked on her at midnight, she probably would have wallowed in it all night long. She looked rather Reagan-from-the-Exorcist-ish.
Even if Jason hadn't told me already that he took her to McDonald's for dinner while I went to three after-school meetings yesterday, I would have been able to guess. I won't be able to even smell McDonald's french fries for a while.
We popped her in the bathtub and rinsed french-fry chunks out of her covers and off of her favorite stuffed animal (poor Lumpy) and got her into our bed. Jason slept on the couch so that he could go to work today and I took up the "puke watch." She got up a few times and coughed and seemed like she was going to hurl again, but by dawn we had both settled in to sleep and the worst was over.
What really amazes me is that I didn't gag, not even once. I have a rather, shall we say, sensitive gag reflex (some would say a weak stomach, but since I rarely actually throw up, I take offense at that accusation) and once I get good and grossed out there's no stopping me. Show me some bodily fluids and watch me walk around randomly heaving for hours like a cat working up a fur ball. I'm well-known in my circle of friends for this trait, and once in middle school, just for kicks and giggles, a classmate passed me a "note" that was really a loogy folded up in a piece of notebook paper. I started gagging, and since I'm not really quiet about it, got the whole class's attention. Which is just what every insecure middle-school girl wants to do.
But I held it together even as I rinsed recognizable bits into the utlity sink and worked shampoo into vomit-tangles. I've used approximately 5 gallons of Lysol and an entire cannister of disinfecting wipes, as well as done 3 loads of laundry, but I think the worst of it is over and all of the nastiness is now just a memory. At least, until I catch the stomach virus and find myself prostrate before the procelain throne at 3am, praying for death.
Nothing will rouse you from a NyQuil-induced slumber like hearing your kid has thrown up. I went from comatose to high alert in .5 seconds and found myself cleaning up one of the worst messes I've ever seen.
Ains doesn't tell us when she throws up at night. We always just have to...discover it. From the looks of it, she had actually fallen back asleep in her own vomit last night. If Jason hadn't checked on her at midnight, she probably would have wallowed in it all night long. She looked rather Reagan-from-the-Exorcist-ish.
Even if Jason hadn't told me already that he took her to McDonald's for dinner while I went to three after-school meetings yesterday, I would have been able to guess. I won't be able to even smell McDonald's french fries for a while.
We popped her in the bathtub and rinsed french-fry chunks out of her covers and off of her favorite stuffed animal (poor Lumpy) and got her into our bed. Jason slept on the couch so that he could go to work today and I took up the "puke watch." She got up a few times and coughed and seemed like she was going to hurl again, but by dawn we had both settled in to sleep and the worst was over.
What really amazes me is that I didn't gag, not even once. I have a rather, shall we say, sensitive gag reflex (some would say a weak stomach, but since I rarely actually throw up, I take offense at that accusation) and once I get good and grossed out there's no stopping me. Show me some bodily fluids and watch me walk around randomly heaving for hours like a cat working up a fur ball. I'm well-known in my circle of friends for this trait, and once in middle school, just for kicks and giggles, a classmate passed me a "note" that was really a loogy folded up in a piece of notebook paper. I started gagging, and since I'm not really quiet about it, got the whole class's attention. Which is just what every insecure middle-school girl wants to do.
But I held it together even as I rinsed recognizable bits into the utlity sink and worked shampoo into vomit-tangles. I've used approximately 5 gallons of Lysol and an entire cannister of disinfecting wipes, as well as done 3 loads of laundry, but I think the worst of it is over and all of the nastiness is now just a memory. At least, until I catch the stomach virus and find myself prostrate before the procelain throne at 3am, praying for death.
Friday, March 9, 2007
Out of the Mouth of Ains
Being constantly amazed by the wisdom my four-year-old spouts, I will occasionally be posting the cutest or most profound things the little darling has said that week. We've got two good ones today.
Last weekend I baked brownies. No biggie, just the ones from a box. We let Ainsley have one as an after-lunch treat Saturday.
"Are these from scratch?" she asked.
I was a little taken aback. With me as a mom (the Doughboy is my best friend), wherever has she learned what "from scratch" means?
"No, honey, they're not."
"Are they from rub?"
Think about it for a minute.
The second highlight is a little more heartbreaking. Jason was playing with her last night when she asked,
"If I'm good, will you be with me forever?"
Jason told her he would be with her for a long time, but that he couldn't be with her forever.
"Will you get old and go to heaven?"
"Yes," Jason told her, "just like your Papaw did."
"I'll miss you a lot when you go."
Gah!
She must have picked up on the sadness in the room.
"OK," she said. "Let's go listen to ballerina music and be happy."
Last weekend I baked brownies. No biggie, just the ones from a box. We let Ainsley have one as an after-lunch treat Saturday.
"Are these from scratch?" she asked.
I was a little taken aback. With me as a mom (the Doughboy is my best friend), wherever has she learned what "from scratch" means?
"No, honey, they're not."
"Are they from rub?"
Think about it for a minute.
The second highlight is a little more heartbreaking. Jason was playing with her last night when she asked,
"If I'm good, will you be with me forever?"
Jason told her he would be with her for a long time, but that he couldn't be with her forever.
"Will you get old and go to heaven?"
"Yes," Jason told her, "just like your Papaw did."
"I'll miss you a lot when you go."
Gah!
She must have picked up on the sadness in the room.
"OK," she said. "Let's go listen to ballerina music and be happy."
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