Mommy & Me: Dancing

Our first Mommy & Me adventure was swimming (which needs to be revisited soon), our second was dance. This is California, so water is abundant. The swimming lessons are a necessary survival need. Dance on the other hand was purely a mommy need. Leeloo loves to move and jump and jiggle, so I didn't have any worries about her interest, but her discipline was another issue. Luckily we began with a basic movement class and any participation (even if it was circling the class at mach speeds like a crazy child) was regarded as valid. 

The first class was promising, the chiquita seemed genuinely interested in mimicking the teacher. However, after the newness wore off, the class devolved from a dance space to a "let's run around and be silly" space. She's two. I didn't expect much more.

However, to my surprise, at the end of our lessons she knew some things. If you ask her what First Position is, her little feet mermaid out and her hands move up to hold an imaginary ball. She will then open to Second and do a little plie. She can also point and flex her toes and move across the floor on her tippies (while flitting like a butterfly). The chiquita even learned how to bow!

We are gonna take a dancing break (and return to swimming), but I can't wait until our next lessons to see what else sinks in!

Having tea in her new favorite ensemble.

On a colder day, taking baby to class.

Butterfly time.

Mostly she just puts the scarf over my head while the teacher dances with hers.

First position.

Break for some music time (on dress-up day - explaining the bee wings)

Finished with class - ready for the world!

Dance prepares you for everything.

Confrontation at the Park

One of the main reasons that we frequent the park so often (despite fighting cabin fever), is so the the chiquita can socialize. Human interaction is this crazily intricate web that takes acrobatics to navigate - and here we are, as parents, fumbling to teach it to our little ones. Mostly the playground is a good experience. Leeloo has her little clique of friends that she plays with, but she also includes anyone that is in her little 3 foot bubble. Age two is nice that way - no discrimination. Occasionally there are disagreements, someone claims a toy, or sand gets tossed in an eye, but luckily these moments pass quickly and all is forgiven easily.

Today I got a glimpse of what I hope is not the future yet to come. The park was super busy. Every other day there is a mama exercise group that floods the playground. The whole place vibrates on these days. Leeloo was playing quietly on her own and I was letting her be independent. However, I still watch her, and all the kids that I know and love. Actually, I watch all the kids - even the ones I don't know, because they are kids, and vulnerable, and very apt to needing an adult to help with something. I was there watching, when a situation started brewing. It was innocent. M was at the top of the slide and R jumped on the bottom, ready to climb up. A scenario that happens almost everyday - no biggie whatsoever. M's mom intervened, first asking R to let M slide down, and then when R was not compliant she tried to get M to move over to the next slide. M got upset, wondering why, if he was there first, he had to be the one to move. These boys were 4 and 4 and a half. The younger more gentle and the older definitely more assertive. Unfortunately, the scene devolved and poor M got taken away for a time out. Not because he was the one in the wrong, but because he choose not to listen to his mother after he became upset.

 At this point nothing out of the ordinary had happened. R was certainly being bratty, but most kids have their turn. It wasn't until M and his mom were gone that I overheard R excitedly say to his friend (who looked like a scared deer), "Look! We got M in trouble! He'll probably have to go home! He'll probably have to go straight to his room!". These words were laced with equal parts menace and glee. It was terrible. And unacceptable. And I couldn't let it pass.

 The conversation that followed went something like this:

Me: "R, that was not a nice thing to do to M. Where is your mother? We need to talk to her."
R: "No we don't! I have no mother!"
Me: (to the scared deer boy) "R is not being a good guy and his mom needs to know. Which one is she?"
R: (with intimidation) "Don't tell her! She wants to get me in trouble!"
Me: (again to deer boy) "If R was being mean to you, would you want him to stop? Would you want his mom to know?"
With that, the little deer boy pointed to a group of moms that were in exercise gear, talking, with their backs to the playground. I thanked him and looked at R with my most serious face, and said: "I know who your mother is now. If you play nice, I won't have to talk to her."

 The playground chaos took over and I thought that was the end of it. M's mom came back (having two other children to keep tabs on) and felt guilty for essentially punishing M for being bullied. Eventually she went back over to M, who was still upset, and I overheard R saying something like: "let's go look at M in trouble!". Oh kids - they are sometimes awful!

I stepped in immediately and told the boys to leave M his space. When met with more indignation by R I went to his mom. I slipped into her circle, and didn't wait for her conversation to end before I quietly told her what happened. Immediately she yelled at R to come towards us. I calmly explained what I had told her and she demanded if it was true. He hung his head and said yes. She stood up and grabbed his arm and pulled him over to M to apologize - thanking me, while threatening him.

I felt bad for the kid. He was a bully and he totally upset me, but the outcome of the whole situation upset me more. Bullies learn their behavior. This boy is only 4 (and a half). The whole time his mother was chatting, back turned to the playground. When the little deer boy pointed her out, I watched to see if she'd turn to check in on R, but I never saw her face. R made some bad decisions, but I won't hold it against him. I will be nice (but on guard), when I see him again. Throughout this whole scene I knew where Ripley was and that she was ok. She is my priority. Throughout my day I have to excuse myself from conversations because she requires my attention. I teach her patience, but I am also protective and interested and concerned with her well being. At the end of it M's mom thanked me for talking to R's mother. She said that it was so hard for her to do that. I let her know that I will always be there to stand up for our kids. I am confrontational. Maybe it's the latina in me, but I will not be timid when our kids are at stake.

Frozen

Frozen was the second movie Leeloo got to see at the theater (Despicable Me 2 being the first). She was super excited to be there with her brothers and her abuelita, but we were a little late, so instead of row seating we were at the far back right corner of the theater sitting two by two. She seemed fine sitting next to me and was really excited by her snacks, but as the theater went dark I realized that she was wearing her sparkle boots. The cute ones that have twinkle lights that turn on with every bump. She soon realized that we could have our own private disco! Mom fail.

The experience (despite the shoes) went very much like her first time. She sat for about half an hour, then wanted to explore a bit. We went in the lobby and wandered about, looked at movie posters and then moseyed back into the theater (maybe 20 min later?). Then after a bit she wanted to wander again, and sit with her brothers, and have more disco time, and look at the movie posters some more... Fairly typical behavior for my just 2 year old.

Since there was so much meandering I didn't think Leeloo particularly liked the movie. She had fun, but turn Tinkerbell on and she's zombied out into fairy land - complete attention. However, despite all the distractions, the music from the movie completely resonated with her. Everyday she brings me the iGuy and asks to watch Frozen songs. She'll start with "Let It Go", then "Snowman" and "Summer". Not only does she smile and dance, but she sings! Her whole being lights up and she loves it. Just one of the many highlights in our day.

And she's off!

Like most little sisters, Leeloo has to do everything that her brothers do. She wants a scooter and a skateboard and a bike and an iPod and and and...

Luckily for her, she has generous grandparents and her scooter wish was fulfilled. At first she made us push - but now she's starting to learn how to self propel. I am not ready at all for these action sports!

A Valentines Playdate

Valentines was simple this year. As a rule I think Valentines should be simple every year. Be thoughtful and tell the people in your world that you love them. That's it. Done.

Instead of a big to-do we (my partner in party crime and I) decided to have a small playdate with crafts and snacks.

It was simple, fun a filled with just enough pick and hearts to be holiday worthy.

We decided to put all our old crayons to use and make cute crayon hearts.

The process took way longer than Pinterest said it would, but the results were worth it.

We also made these little Love Bugs.

We had a table dedicated to popsicle puppets and homemade Valentines.

What is VDay without sugary goodness?

The homemade play dough was the biggest success. When is play dough a failure?

 Not pictured: heart shaped watermelon bites, mac and cheese baked cups and the rest of the non-sugar healthy good snacks we had.

Body Dismorphia

Like most women I am hard on myself. I get ready in the morning mostly avoiding the mirror or shuffling past it quickly. I read articles about self-esteem and body love. I am aware of the constant struggle we face with media and photoshopping and the unattainable perfection that surrounds us. My brain tells me it's smoke and mirrors, but I still find myself trying to reach some mysterious body goal.

 I don't exercise enough, I enjoy cocktails, and although I tend to eat mostly vegetarian, burgers and fries cross these lips on occasion. My pre-pregnancy jeans fit me, but a lot tighter than I'd like. I suppose I could buy a larger pair, but I refuse. For the last year my weight has plateaued at 20 pounds above my comfort zone. I wouldn't say I'm fat, but chubby, curvy, and jiggly, all fit the bill.

Yesterday, I visited some good friends to take maternity pictures. The mama is one of my "avatar" friends, tall, german and naturally gorgeous. She has this beautiful baby tummy without any stretch marks at all. We took a bunch of shots, and in the this world of instant digital gratification, she looked at the proofs on my camera. First reaction: "look at how chunky my arms are"! See how we react? It's ridiculous.

Our bodies are amazing. We grow humans. From nothing. Bones, and nerves and blood and skin. It all comes together inside of us.

Last night I looked into the mirror intentionally. My hips are rounded. My belly is softer. Not fatter, but less elastic. When pregnant I had deep purple ravines on my belly. My poor skin was stretched so tight trying to make room. Almost magically those marks have faded, the texture is different, but they are the same color as my skin again. Just a faint memory of the babies inside. I no longer have a girl's body. I have a mama's body. And I am gonna love it.

Two babies or a beach ball, hard to guess.

2 years post twins. Photoshop used to fix color and crop out my bed head (after I wrote this I had a tiny window of self-assuredness that I had to seize before I chickened out).

Accidents

I grew up an only child. So for me, it was natural to only want to have one child. Then I met someone who already had two children, and the idea of getting pregnant meant that we were automatically going to have three. Three is definitely enough. And then - I found out I was having twins. Twins! It was scary but the idea of two at once seemed kinda great. And four - four became the magic number, two boys, two girls.
And Mia died. And it was three. And three was not four. And one girl - not two. Everything all of a sudden was off balance. I've cried a lot about it since then. So the pregnancy debate began. Were we going to try again, should we try again? The cons seem to outweigh the pros.


Ripley fell today. Down a staircase. I was in another room when I heard her cry. I ran to the top of the stairs and there she was, at the bottom. Face down and crying. I raced down and grabbed her, trying to simultaneously comfort her and assess any damage. She was ok. She is ok. But I can't help going down the dead baby road. If I lose her, and I am no longer a mother, what am I? These girls have redefined me. Making me stronger and more fragile than I have ever been.

Once a friend told me that you need a big family to insure that you have backups if you ever lose one. After Mia I know that's not true. You can never replace. You can never forget. If I had another, I would love them, but this little hole in my heart would still have Mia in the center.