Dressed for Success

Believe it or not, Eowyn started this morning with pants on, onesie buttoned, and socks on feet. She had other ideas, though.

Happy Little Chef

For Christmas, Eowyn received a play kitchen. At first, I was a little concerned about purchasing such a large and fairly pricey gift for my not-yet-two-year-old daughter. However, it's been wonderful. I'm so glad we got it!

Eowyn will play with it for hours. That's saying a lot, considering her age. On mornings when we don't have errands to run or places to be, it keeps her occupied from almost the time she wakes up until lunch. It's also been quite helpful in that, while I'm finishing up dinner, she will "cook" at her own kitchen too. This doesn't usually last the entire time I'm cooking, but any respite from a screaming toddler hanging on your ankles while you are working with hot pans is welcome.

Below are some pictures of Eowyn at her kitchen. Upon taking these pictures, I learned that she knows to say "cheese" when a camera is pointed at her (that accounts for the grimace on her face). I didn't teach her that, but it's awfully cute!

More volatile than the stock market

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.

When she was good,

She was very good indeed,

But when she was bad she was horrid.
--Longfellow

The range of Eowyn's mood swings has been taking its toll on me. It's been difficult to keep perspective on it. On days when she wakes up from her nap cheerful and easygoing, all is right with the world and I feel blissfully happy to be a mother. We laugh and sing while we pretend with her baby dolls, read books, and play on the swings. I cook dinner without incident while she pretends to cook, too.

But--it feels more often than not--other days she wakes up in a delicate temper. Tickling might make her scowl, or she'll throw her books in frustration. She cries to be in her swing, then cries to be out. She clings, screaming, to my leg as I attempt to provide our dinner. She clamors to be held, then protests to be put down again. Those days, I count the minutes until her bedtime, when I can have respite from the emotional energy it takes to handle her.

After she's in bed (and often through the long afternoon) the self-doubt and finger-pointing begin. What am I doing wrong as a mother, that she is like this? Why can't Christian be home before 8:00 to help me? Is it because he just doesn't care enough about us? The evening often plays out with fits of crying and venting of anger and frustration on an unsuspecting husband.

At this moment, I can see clearly the ridiculousness of the situation. Eowyn is like a prairie field, covered in bright sunlight one minute, the next minute tossed by a tempest which leaves as quickly as it came. But when I'm in the middle of the storm, it is just so difficult for me to remember that there is ever a beginning or an end to it.

I'm praying for perspective and grace.

Fans, glorious fans!

This post by Erin M. really made me laugh! It also made me think of my sister's son, Seth. He too developed a keen interest in fans, starting around Simon's age. Meredith would call it an obsession. There was a time when, wherever he went, he needed to have every fan in the place turned on as high as possible, asking, 'can't they go any faster than that?' He loved looking for fans on outings. His favorite store was the fan store, also known as the fan department of Home Depot. He would regale you at length about fans he had seen at Grandma's house and friends houses. Meredith made him a little book filled with pictures of fans. One day, the arrival of a home improvement catalog advertising fans kept him occupied for (seeming) hours.

Meredith grew concerned that his love of fans would interfere with other aspects of his social development. Over time, his interest grew to include anything that spins, like wheels and tops. And eventually, he moved on to obsess over other things, like pop-up sprinklers. So it worked out in the end--he's an intense little kid, and you just gotta love his tenacity!

Thanks for sharing your fan story, Erin.

Good Morning, Mom!

You know it's an inauspicious start to your day when you go to retrieve your daughter from her crib in the morning and the first thing she does is hand you some of her own poop.

Yes, you read that right. Gross! Still, I found my self saying, 'um, thank you, sweetie.' (It's an instinct for me to reinforce her any time she hands me something willingly).

Her BM was so profuse and powerful that it managed to come up the front of her diaper. It was on her sheets, it covered her blankie, it defiled her stuffed animals. She had it smeared on her face, her clothes, her hands and her feet.

Cleaning her up was a team effort for Christian and me. And yet, it didn't really bother me. Not that I enjoyed it, but if you had told me two years ago that I would one day be cleaning up a poo-covered toddler and assorted poo-covered accessories with nothing more than feelings of mild inconvenience, I probably wouldn't believe you.

Ah, the blinding power of love.

Learnin', Disney-Style

Eowyn has recently reached a point where TV fascinates her. Before, she was mostly oblivious to it. I naively hoped this was a more permanent trait. Now, the TV exerts an irresistible compulsion on her. When it's on, her eyes glaze over and she stands transfixed next to her Cheerios depository (formerly known as the coffee table). Fortunately this only lasts for about 15-20 minutes at a time, though I know it will only increase as she gets older. I have discovered it's both a good and a bad thing. There are times when a 15-20 minute respite from her role as my shadow is quite useful, such as when I'm cooking dinner. Still, it's all too easy to turn on the TV when I'm too tired to engage her full attention.

Even so, there's been a few things I've learned from watching children's television with her, largely from the Disney Channel offering Little Einsteins. Here's a sampling:

1. Animals of all kinds communicate through sounds like orchestral instruments
2. Rockets may be powered by patting your lap vigorously
3. One may open a secret door in Egypt's Sphinx by playing a selection of Mozart on a harp
4. The moon likes to hang out at the peak of the Matterhorn in Switzerland
5. The top of the Space Needle in Seattle is razor-sharp (dangerous for runaway balloons)

My little neat freak

Eowyn, at 17 months old, has discovered the appeal of orderliness. Sort of.
Her recent activities include:

• taking cornflake remnants off of the coffee table (left there by daddy, si claro) and placing them in the trash.
• eagerly emptying her snack bowl onto the floor, running to the dishwasher, opening it, pulling out the top rack, placing her bowl inside, closing the dishwasher door.
• ferrying the clean silverware from the dishwasher to the drawer. Doing the same for dirty silverware.
  
• putting dirty clothes in the hamper. Putting clean clothes in the hamper.
• helping me put wet clothes in the dryer. 'Helping' me put dry, dirty clothes in the dryer.
• fighting with mommy over the broom and the swiffer (her new favorite toy is a child sized broom. The swiffer has also been permanently reduced to mini-height).
• running away with my rubber gloves and dish towels.