inbetweener

we all have these moments that define us as a parent. aside from all the regular moments we have, the dirty diapers and skinned knees and tantrums in public. the big defining moments are made up of those like when we watched our children take their first steps... or say "mama" for the first time. those moments fill your heart with more joy and love than you ever thought possible. i mean, before having you in my life i don't think i really knew what "joy" was. to me, it was just some disneyland way of saying "super happy". but then you came along and i feel it. i feel the disneyland happy. these defining moments are also made up of the bad stuff too. fear and worry and anxiety, like i've never felt it before.

this week you had a fever upwards of 105 degrees for 5 days straight. mid-way i actually saw the thermometer read 106.3. we spent more time at the pediatrician's, ER, and urgent care than at home. you didn't eat. you had fever baths several times a day and motrin and tylenol and ice and a lot of television and snuggles. i held my shit together. i argued with dr's who were too busy for you and stayed up basically all night taking your temperature and watching you breathe. i didn't feel anything but determination. ok, and a little stress.

yesterday i finally found a dr who didn't have his head up his ass. he gave you an antibiotic shot. and by the night time you were already feeling better. and even better yet, your blood tests came back, and you didn't have any of the horrible things they were afraid you might have. your fever went down. you layed in bed sleeping next to me.

and i just sobbed.

and then i couldnt stop. i didnt have to be strong anymore. you were ok and you were getting better. i thought about wednesday when i took your temperature with 3 different thermometers to confirm it was 106 and ran you to the bathroom to a cool bath, my heart pounding my chest thinking surely you'd start seizing at any moment. and thursday when the er dr rambled on about white counts, and friday when the urgent care nurse told me you'd lost 5 pounds. i didnt have to put on a reassuring face anymore and calmly rub your forehead in anticipation of a catheter, or sing you a song while they poked around for a vein to draw blood, or stare at your pale little face and offer you another sip of juice i knew you didnt want to take.

so i sobbed.

all the fear and hurt and worry i'd tucked away for 5 days just poured out. it was a shitty week. but we did it. you drank your juice even though you didn't want to, and i kept it together even though i felt like falling apart. we are quite the team, you and i.

so, these moments. the ones that fill you up with so much joy, joy you never thought was even possible. and the moments that hammer you down with so much fear that you think you'll break at any moment. those are the defining moments that remind you that being a parent isn't about who you are or what you do or who your friends are, what you drive, or where you live. being a parent is about being strong and being gracious, having hope, and being realistic, living through the happiness and the heartache - so that you can enjoy every single "regular" moment inbetween.

i'm ready for the regular moments to begin again.



i love you claire,

mama

twenty seven months... oh, and twenty eight (sue me)

dear claire,

the last couple of months have been busy. so busy that i can't even remember what we did. so busy that "i'll write her letter tomorrow when i have more time" became a laughing matter because tomorrow never actually held more time. but look i'm here now. oh hai. we spent so much time having fun. we did so much these last 2 months.









sometimes when i sit down to write your letter for a moment i'm at loss for words. the month seems to have wisked by. a million things happened. we laughed a million times, hugged a million times, and threw vegetables at the cat at least 13 times. i remember very vividly when you were about 2 months old, crying. crying hard. i wasnt sad, i was just so incredibly tired that "cry" was the only emotion my body could produce. and i remember thinking that i would give anything to fast forward to the part where you sleep through the night and tell me what hurts and kiss me and hug me back. whats so completely amazing is that now, i would give anything to go back and relive every moment all over again... those moments that once made me sob and beg for them to be over, are moments that i now cherish. it's official. being a parent makes you CRAZY.









this month you've learned the art of fishing for compliments. it came so naturally, it almost appears to be genetic. on mother's day we were both wearing dresses and leaving to go to brunch. as we were walking to the car you smiled and said "pretty dress. mommy." i replied, "thank you, claire!" you paused for a moment and then continued, "i have a pretty dress too..." trying not to laugh, "yes you do, claire." you casually replied, "thank you, mommy." before you chuckle along with your day think that this was an isolated incident, know that it has pretty much happened EVERY SINGLE DAY since then. "pretty necklace, mommy..." "pretty shoes, mommy..." "pretty nails, mommy..." "great rack mommy..." ok maybe not that last one, but i can tell you're planning that one to use in about 13 years. hopefully by then my rack will still be great and yours will be hidden under a sports bra and a turtle neck wool sweater.









you're becoming quite an amazing little person. just the other day a friend of mine was playing with you and turned to me and said, "is she this cute EVERY day?" yes. every. single. day. oh, except that one day last week when you threw your self on to the floor sobbing for no reason at all. several times. it was actually quite amusing. i got you out of the bath and you told me you were cold. so i put clothes on you. you liked the attention. so you told me you were cold again. i asked you if you wanted a jacket. you said no (you HATE jackets). so i asked you if you wanted a blanket. YES. your eyes lit up with excitement. i put the blanket over you. the wrong blanket apparently, and you LOST YOUR SHIT. you THREW yourself onto the floor, buried your face in your hands and cried "I WANT DA OTHER BLANKETTTTTT". trying to stick to my "i don't want my child to grow up to be a brat" guns i replied, "oops! i can't hear you when you scream at me. let me know when you're ready to talk nice." you sat up. gasped a couple times. wiped a tear, composed yourself, and politely retorted, "mommy, can i have da other blanket, please?" i replied "sure, honey! which blanket would you like?" you THREW yourself on to the floor, "I WANT THE OTHER BLANKETTTTTT!". and that is how our morning went. helloooo two.

so you can see why i've been busy, right?









so in a nutshell... in the last two months we went to the beach and the zoo and the park. we snuggled a LOT. we talked about life and trucks and trains and parrots and princesses. we named your barbie Lola and we lost her shirt. we squawked like parrots. we watched oswald and we ate m&ms and put bears in toys strollers and finger painted on the patio. we ate dinner in bed and talked about camera and pictures and saying cheese and painted our nails hot pink. we talked about eating yogurt. we reminiced about all the animals at the zoo and put bandaids on our arms even though we didn't have owies just because they are pretty. we had fun. thats what you and i do. when we're not busy crying into the carpet over wrong blankets or fishing for compliments, we're just having fun. life is too short to sit around waiting for an owie so you can wear a hello kitty bandaid. srsly.



i love our fun,

mama

inbetweener

dear claire,

i was thinking the other day while we were sitting in the urgent care exam room. i was watching your tummy squeeze every muscle as tight as it could to push the air in and out of your body. i was waiting for the medicine to work, for the doctor to come back, for you to feel ok again. i was thinking about how there is so much talk about how being a parent is such a "responsibility". we use that word to scare teenagers into using condoms, to make excuses for why we are tired or busy or stressed or broke. children, they are such gigantic "responsibilities".

when i was pregnant with you a "friend" told me that i didn't understand how big of a responsibility a child was. she told me that she didn't think i was mature enough to be responsible for another person for the next 18 years. she suggested that i shouldn't continue the pregnancy.

but as it turns out, you're not a chore, a burden or an anchor. i realized the other night when i was watching your little body once again struggle to breathe... you're not a responsibility. you're not an obligation or a duty. i wasn't put out by having to sit in the urgent care for 4 hours because i'd signed some "i'm a parent" contract. i don't make a living being your mother. and you're certainly not a reflection of my maturity.

anyone can be a responsible parent. keep the children away from matches and carry tylenol in your pocket, etc. the really good parents are the ones who know that love comes first. so no, being a parent isn't about responsibilities. she was wrong, and i'm glad i didnt listen.

i'll sit in any uncomfortable urgent care, er and hospital chair in the world if it means i get to hold your hand and help make you feel better. not because you are my responsibility, but you are just simply a pleasure. you are joy, happiness and hope. you are my baby. the only thing left for me to do is love you. luckily, i'm really good at doing that.

you make it so easy.

-mama.

twenty six months

dear claire,

we were driving in the car the other day and you yelled out, "mommy, sing the happy birthday to you song?" i had no idea this was a song you knew, or a song you liked to sing, and i'm not sure how "the happy birthday to you song" outranks "the wheels on the bus" or "the itsy bitsy spider", but maybe its because you notice that when people sing that song - its always a celebration. so i sang it. you chimed in. when we got to the end... "happy birthday dear claaaaa-iireee, happy birthday to youuuuu!" you yelled out "and blow out the candles!!!" and you blew. and then, "and have the cake!!!" i don't know how in the world i am so blessed that i got this funny, smart, pretty little girl as my baby. i certainly don't feel i deserve it. but i'm not going to call attention to that. that'd be like winning the lotto and insisting that the money go to pay off national debt. nothankyou.












this month you became a real person. you lie, cheat and steal. mostly about food, using the big person potty, and beating up the cat. you are at your "testing the boundries" prime. let me make this easy for you.... when you ask me for yogurt, mac and cheese, granola bar, apple sauce and m&m's all at the same time - i see right through you. i'm 28 years old. thats definitely old enough to know that you are a big liar and are going to waste like 5 dollars worth of food just to *see* if i will get it all for you. also, there is a very big difference between "peeing in the potty" and removing all your clothing, urinating on the floor and telling me you "spilled some water." smart, yes... smarter than someone who has been using the potty and spilling drinks for decades, no.











you also have this insane sense of direction. when we are driving you yell out who's house we're going to with in the first few turns. its FREAKY, actually. i've been driving for quite a while, i've never lived 5 miles away from where i was born, ya get 3 drinks in me and there is a good chance i wouldn't be able to tell you what street i live on. yet my child, who has been alive for just over two years and can't even poop in the toilet, knows that if we go south on topanga canyon we might go see nina. if we go north we are going to see daddy, and if we go east on devonshire we are for sure going to end up at nana and papa's. like, WHAT!? how is this even possible? are you a wizard? or a pigeon?









this "lets be naked" phase you're going through is cracking me up. the FIRST thing you do when we get home... a simple request to remove your shoes.... that's how it begins. the moment i turn my back to put your shoes in your room you are ripping clothing off. you strip down completely naked and proclaim, "MOMMY!!!! I ANNNNN NEKIIIIID!" the next step is roaming around the condo looking for the most ridiculous thing to do nekkid. such as, putting on a tiara and princess shoes, or how about two legs down one leg hole of your florescent yellow puma shorts? mommy's high heels and some mardi gras beads, check. bangle bracelets and stickers of kittens, check. purple sharpie marker all over your belly and running around with quarters screaming about all the "monies" you have. never a dull moment when nekkid claire is running free. we were in target last week and you were bored with walking around looking for throw pillows and started to take off your pants and i yelled out across the aisle, "PLEASE KEEP YOUR CLOTHES ON!!!" so, apparently, yelling that - that draws attention. for future reference.











i was telling someone the other day how crazy you grew when you were born. in the nicu you weighed 4lbs and 1oz. - you were 50th percentile for a 33 week old fetus. but not even on the charts for a newborn. and then by 12 weeks old you weighed close to 13 lbs., which is 70th percentile for a normal 12 week old baby. you grew so fast, you caught up so fast, i swear i thought your pediatrician was going to name a wing of the office after you. the nurses used to call you the "perfect preemie". how right they were. some days i look at you and think to myself how special you are to me. and i look and sometimes i think, "everyone thinks their child is special and smart and beautiful." but the real beauty, the beauty of being a parent is that, it doesn't matter one bit - how great anyone else's child might be. all that matters is your own. you are so special and smart and strong and beautiful and absolutely hilarious and no matter how great all the other children of the world are, i get to be proud of that - of YOU. because i'm your mother. being your mom is such a wonderful feeling. so happy freaking 26th month birthday claire. you're now 28lbs. you're still 70th percentile. sing the song. blow out the candles. have the cake. and eat it too.



love every last piece of you,

mommy.

twenty five months

dear claire,

this month you decided you were tired of hearing people go on about how "two is terrible", so you're just going to act like you're three. you show them. your speech has spiraled out of control. and you are way too smart for your own good.







over the last couple months when you want to watch tv you would blurt out "TV OFF?!" which is confusing to most, but what you meant was "WHYTHEHELL IS THE TV OFF, LADY?!" upholding my resistance to all things bright and loud, i limit your tv time to 30 mins a day. if it wasnt for the creators of shows like "dora the explorer" having the delusion that every single word should have 3 or more exclamation points after it, i might be a little more flexible. but seriously. "hi!!!! my!!! nombre!!! is!!! dora!!!!!!!!!!!!!" not to mention that she totally speaks spanglish. i have no problem with shows that teach an actual second language, but "put on!!!!! your!!! zapatos!!! so we!!!! can!!! vamanos!!!!" is not a human language. ok, well i guess it is a language if you live in southern california. but certainly not something i'm going to pay a cable bill for you to experience. if i wanted you to be fluent in spanglish i would take you outside on a sunday afternoon.







so anyway, after a while of the broken record that is you asking me "TV OFF?!" and the broken record that is me saying "nope." and you completely losing your shit - - - - i decided i needed a better plan. my genius plan was to simply tell you, "i'm so sorry, the tv went night night. tv was SO tired." and you were ok with that. (((cue bright light shining down on me from above and choir music playing))) thank god.



tonight, after dinner i noticed you smelled like day care and cheerios. which is the most disgusting smell ever. worse than a poopy diaper. so i mentioned, "hey claire, lets go give you a bath!" you promptly replied, "sorry mommy. no bath. the bath was tired. so tired. so the bath went night night." (((dark clouds rush in and lightening strikes)))





DAMMIT! you beat me at my own game!!! i couldn't just disregard the "tired bath" because that would discredit me for all future "sleeping tv's". so i came up with a plan... "you're right, i forgot. the bath is sleeping. but MOMMY'S bath just woke up!" and i dragged you into the other bathroom. ha HA! i thought i was so smart. until, later tonight, like i always do i told you the tv was sleeping. you looked at me and sighed. you were just about to fall for my clever trick when you suddenly perked back up and replied, "i know... the tv is sleeping.... but MOMMY'S tv just woke up!" and into my bedroom you went, and turned on freaking dora. HOLA!!! smart!!! baby!!! ADIOS!!! smart!!! mommy!!!





another thing you've learned to do this month is be judgemental. i knew it was only a matter of time before you soaked up this lovely trait, you little sponge, you. the other night we were at nana and papa's and i asked you to sing the ABC's for your nana. "no." then papa walked into the room and i asked you if you would sing the ABC's with your papa. with that, papa began to sing the ABC's. really out of tune ABC's. you glared at him from across the room... "be quiet papa." and mumbled under your breath, "you're doin' it wrong."



you're also a little bossy and frequently tell me to "get up" or "sit down" or "turn the computer off" or "sweep the floors cinderelly!!!" you are so strong willed and you really know what you want. yogurt for dinner, carrots for breakfast, shoes on, shoes off, you yell at the cat "no, NO ava! get off the couch!!! LISTEN TO ME!!!", you yelled at me the other day when i was standing on the bed adjusting the curtains, "get DOWN mommy!!! no standing on the bed!!!" and then when i finally got down you clapped your hands and cheered, "yaaaaay! good job, mommy!" thank you, claire. it feels amazing to be such an obedient mother.



but you're gentle too. and sweet and kind. when you take a moment to set aside all the terrible two-ness and the roid-rage from the pulmicort breathing treatments, and your completely inflated sense of confidence and independence - you are just precious. every morning and every night you put my face in your hands and say, "i love you mommy." then you throw your arms over my shoulders and hold me, and pat me on the back. and once a week or so you drag a pillow on to the floor in the living room and ask me to lay down. you come over with a blanket and lay it over me and fluff it up so it just square and right. you sit down next to me and pat my back and say "shhhhh. its ok.... shhhh." it's one thing to play "mommy" with your dolls, its another thing to play mommy with your mommy.





when you yell at me to get down off the bed, and celebrate that i listened, and then turn around, cover me with your blanket and "shh" me to sleep, when you hold my face and tell me you love me, and even when you use my own tricky logic to get what you want... all that says something very important to me. you're listening, you're happy, i'm doing a good job. and when i think about it that way, it makes me really understand that as much as you need me to be your mother, i need you to be my daughter. there is no better feeling in the world than when someone is holding you and telling you that they love you, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath and you realize that not only do they mean it - but you taught them how to do it. when you show someone how to love, and they give you love in return... nothing can compare to that feeling. that is the most pure and real meaning of "success". two really isn't so terrible afterall.



love you loving me,

mama