On Being an Only Child

A few weeks ago, when Ben or Maggie was being particularly annoying, Cate said, "I wish I was an only child."

"No you don't," I replied.

"Yes," she insisted. "I do."

I quickly rattled off a list of all of the reasons why it's wonderful to have siblings. You have a built-in playmate now and, in 30 years, will have someone who instantly understands what you mean when you say, "Well, you know Mom..."

And, of course, if you didn't have siblings who would entertain your kids on those long December days when you have a horrible head cold and all you want to do is sit around and read a magazine?

Burying Uncle Mike in the "Vampire's Lair"

Playing "Sequence for Kids"

"Helping" Uncle Devo with the crossword puzzle

Thanks Uncle Devo and Uncle Mikey! We've loved having you here and will miss you when you leave in a few weeks!

A Very Sweet Girl

Although I play up her sassiness here for dramatic impact, Maggie can also be very sweet.

This morning the girls were coloring at the kitchen table while I read the paper. I was seized with a dramatic coughing attack, due to the cold that I have not been able to shake for over a week.

M: Okay Mommy?

Me: Yes, Mommy's okay. I just don't feel the best today.

Maggie draws furiously and then presents me with the picture.

M: For Mommy. To make Mommy feel better.

Thank you sweet girl. I feel better already.

She's On Fire

Maggie has been on fire lately.

Her round face, wild blonde hair and blue eyes give the impression that she is an angelic baby.

Her mischevious grin tells the truth.

Of course she can be a sweet baby but not a day goes by when I don't find myself reaching for a pen while thinking, "I've got to write this down..."

Exhibit A

Maggie generally enjoys church. While everyone else is quiet she can talk, knowing that Chris and I will likely respond with only a whispered admonition to "Shh!" If she sits on our laps, then she's guaranteed a fresh audience as the lucky (unlucky?) churchgoers behind us are facing her. People seem to find her amusing, grinning at her antics and offering her the sign of peace.

Last Sunday during the homily Maggie sat on my lap, looking towards the back of the church. A rather large statue caught her eye.

M (pointing excitedly): THERE JESUS!

Me (in a whisper): Shh! Yes, there's a statue of Jesus back there.

M (thinks about this for a minute then narrows her eyes): I NO LIKE JESUS.

Chris and I glance at each other and try to suppress our smiles. My first line of defense is the redirct, especially because any behavior that gets a big reaction (positive or negative) is often repeated in my house.

Me: Shhh! Do you want to look at a book?

M (more loudly): I NO LIKE JESUS.

I begin digging through the diaper bag.

Me: Um...what about a snack? I packed raisins.

Maggie suddenly realizes that the four high-school age students behind us are looking at her, unable to control their laughter.

She seizes the moment and says as loudly as possible: I NO LIKE JESUS!

(NOTE: I would like to point out that I think Maggie was actually objecting to the statue of Jesus, rather than expressing her feelings about Christianity).

Exhibit B

My brothers have been visiting for the holidays. On Monday morning we were eating breakfast and I had to leave the room for a minute.

Me: Okay, Uncle Devin is in charge until I get back.

Devin: Ha! Did you hear that? I'm the boss.

Cate and Ben ignore this proclamation and keep doing whatever they're doing.

Maggie: Uncle Devo not boss. I THE BOSS!

Exhibit C

Although she's not yet two, Maggie has already started with the questions. She asks, "What is that?" even when she already knows the answer. She'll see a picture of Chris and say, "Who is that?" even though she clearly recognizes her father.

We were once foolish enough to hang some pictures above Maggie's changing table, knowing that it was, perhaps, not our best choice.

A few weeks ago Maggie kicked the pictures while I changed her diaper. I can see how this would be a fun activity---the frames make a great sound when they crashed together and it meant Mommy was constantly saying, "Maggie, you need to stop. You'll break something."

Then one day, of course, one of the frames fell off the wall leaving some black marks and a small hole in the wall.

Every diaper change since Maggie points to the wall and, in a very serious voice, says, "What happen there?"

I ususally ask, "What do you think happened?"

Maggie shrugs and in her most innocent voice says, "I don't know."

Ben's Holiday Concert

Ben had his first official holiday concert in early December.

The line-up was decidedly non-relgious (see below) but utterly charming. If you've never heard a room full of 4-year-olds sing "Doe a Deer" then you're missing out.

And you can borrow my video.

The Line-Up

- Big Clocks

- Grumpy Pirate

- Doe A Deer

- My Favorite Things
- Snowman Song

- Star Medley

- Starlight Starbright
- Star Poem

- Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

On the ride home I told Ben how proud I was of him.

He said, "Mom, I wasn't a very good listener at the practice today.....but I was a great listener at the concert."

Cherish the Experience!

This was my mantra as we trudged through Handley's tree farm on Saturday morning.

In the cold. In the rain.

Maggie's mantra was, "Brr! Cold!"

Usually we agonize over which tree to select. Saturday we were all business, pointing to the first tree we saw that was reasonably full and reasonably tall.

Cate and I huddled by the tree, under an umbrella, as Chris, Ben and Maggie searched for the workers to cut down the tree.

Cate was uncharacteristically quiet as we waited.

Finally she looked up and thoughtfully asked, "Mom, could I have stayed home?"

I replied, half-joking, half-seriously, "Nope. We're a family. If one of us has to be cold and wet then we all have to be cold and wet."

Cate considered this information for a minute, and then pointed out a loophole in my logic "But Grandma and Grandpa stayed home!"

She had a point.

Cherish the experience. Cherish the experience. Cherish the experience...

Stage Debut: The Nutcracker

Well, we survived.

This weekend marked Cate's stage debut. Cate was a Baby Mouse in her dance studio's annual performance of "The Nutcracker." What began with weekly rehearsals from Labor Day to Thanksgiving transitioned into a week of 1-2 hour rehearsals. This was followed by three days of performances, in full mouse costume.

Cate loved every minute of it.

When she auditioned in August we had a long conversation about the commitment involved. There would be a lot of practices. She might have to turn down other opportunities. It would be hard work.

She was not deterred.

And, quite honestly, the only time she really complained about the rehearsals was when they forced her to arrive late for the UI Homecoming parade. (What if Ben and Maggie got more candy than she did? Or, worse, what if she missed the candy entirely??)

The week leading up to the performances was hard for Cate. Usually in bed by 7:30, the rehearsals kept her up until 9:30 each night. She was exhausted. She missed her very first school holiday concert due to dress rehearsal. She had to listen to me say things like, "We've got to hurry" or "We've got to be out the door in 5 minutes" or "We're going to be late!!" approximately 65 times each day.

Last week was hard for me as well. I went a week without putting Maggie to bed, only to come home and have Chris tell me how sad she was at bedtime. The laundry piled up. We subsisted on mac-n-cheese, hot dogs and pancakes.

I had hoped that the week would begin with a detailed schedule outlining the expectations for the week, broken down by day and time.

This did not happen.

It was a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of week that involved eyeliner whiskers, hair styling, and a lot of "hurry-up-and-waiting."

All things that I am not very good at.

By the time we reached the first full performance on Friday night I, too, was exhausted. Maybe one year as a Baby Mouse would be enough for Cate. Maybe she would never want to do this again. Maybe I would never have to really learn how to apply eyeliner or create the perfect bun.

Then the orchestra began to play, the curtain went up and, well, it really was magical.

I was so very proud of Cate, who was so obviously very proud of herself.

Tonight, after her fourth peformance in three days I asked her, "Well, do you want to do Nutcracker again next year?"

Her response, "YES! I love it! I love it! I love it."

And, as I reflect back on the entire experience, the good and the bad, I have to admit that I loved it too.