CJDaily's Blog

May 20, 2010

You’re getting sleepy…

Filed under: Uncategorized — cjdaily @ 9:39 pm

I”m not sure when or how my daughter trained me, but trained I am.  There is a way of doing things that she likes to adhere to, and it is not unlike living with an obsessively compulsive person who must turn the lights off and on 42 times before leaving the room or they feel the world might end. 

Take our bedtime routine, for example.  When I tell her it is bedtime, she must first close all the doors to all the rooms upstairs before heading into her room.  I don’t know why she needs to do this, but she closes to doors to my parents room, (and their bathroom door if she sees it open), the guest room, my bathroom, my room, and only then will she walk into her room. 

Then, I must go and sit in the rocking chair while she waits by the open door.  She will not close it until I am sitting down, and I have to turn off the light, turn on her sound machine, and pull down all the shades before I do.  Then I sit and she will come over to me and sit on my lap.  Only, it used to be that simple–now she likes to hop over to me, but then she runs right back to the door as soon as she reaches me and tiptoes back, because she likes to walk both ways and she can’t pick only one.  SO–after a double procession and backtrack over to my chair, then she will sit in my lap and allow me to sing her a song.

She always requests the song, and it’s always either “Stay Awake” from Mary Poppins, or “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music.  Sometimes she asks for both.  And while I am singing, she will twist and turn in my lap, trying to find the most comfortable position, or possibly just trying to drive me insane.  First she will lean back against my chest and put her legs on mine, but then she will turn to the side so I am cradling her like a baby, and will sling her legs over the side of the chair.  But then she will turn in my lap 180 degrees, and lay her head on my other arm, and fling her legs over the other side of the chair.  It all reminds me of a dog on a rug, turning in circles to pick the prime sleeping position.  Inevitably, she winds up sitting with her back to me once more, legs propped up on mine, but until she reaches this position again it is something like what I imagine holding a thrashing sea otter in place would feel like.  While singing a calming song about bedtime.  Through gritted teeth. 

Then once our song has been sung, I pick her up and bring her over to her bed, but she will latch on to me, monkey style and request one more song.  The shortest song I know, and also one of her favorites, is Do-Re-Mi, also from The Sound of Music, so rather than take her back to the chair, I put her butt on the crib rail and hold her against me while I sing.  Quickly.  “…And that will bring us back to do!  Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do, do, do!  Goodnight!”  I dangle her backwards into her crib and pry her little arms off my neck, stuffing her Pooh Bear and Lovey Bear into each hand, and flinging a blanket over her. 

“Tuck, tuck, tuck!” her imperious voice always demands, and I place her Owl under her head as a pillow, smooth back her hair from her face, and tuck, tuck, tuck the edges of the blanket snugly under her arms and legs.  Then I bend down and give her a kiss, whisper I love her, and beat a hasty retreat from the room before she can think to demand something new. 

I am a sucker, plain and simple.  She likes things a certain way, and rather than face a tantrum if I refuse the second song or close the door myself (the horror) I simply choose not to fight it.  Which means that it takes about twenty minutes to do something that most people could do in five or less.  On Tuesday nights when I am at my Bible study, my Dad puts her to bed and he said she just walks into the room, refuses to be rocked, and lets him just put her in the crib and walk away.  And viola!, she lays down and goes to sleep.  The simplicity of this, to me, is staggering, and slightly envy-inducing. 

When she was a baby I used to sing while I rocked her and think about the day she’d be old enough to ask me for a song.  Now she’s doing it, and I’m grateful that she likes it.  I just didn’t factor in the door-closing, hopping, tip-toeing, thrashing, wiggling side effects that come with it!  But before long, she won’t want to sit on my lap, or let me hold and squeeze her, so I’m cherishing this as much as I can, even with all the complicated fol-der-al.  On the bright side, at least there are no dance numbers!  At least, not yet…

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May 9, 2010

It’s hard to remember a time before I knew you.

Filed under: Uncategorized — cjdaily @ 7:30 pm

It seems crazy that it’s Mother’s Day again.  Last year at this time, Belle needed help climbing up her little plastic slide.  Today she was flinging herself off of it in typical fearless two-year-old abandon.  I don’t really feel up to being the mother of a 2-year-old most days… it’s so much more work than being the mother of a tiny little baby.  She has opinions!  She has energy!  She has fashion sense that must not be challenged!  Like yesterday, when I was cleaning out my closet, and she was amusing herself by taking off her clothing to put on a new outfit consisting of a swimmy diaper, and her skirt (worn as a tube top).  And she’s all dancing around the room saying, “Look at me!” and I’m going, “It’s way to early for you to be dressing like a wasted co-ed on spring break!” 

This weekend has been rather fabulous and it’s not even over yet.  My sister took a weekend off from being very busy and important in the ER, and came home to shop with me and Belle during the day, and at night she and I dressed up like we actually have lives and hit up Swanky Bubbles for sushi and overpriced champagne cocktails.  There’s a definite feminine satisfaction to be derived from putting on your highest heels and teetering out into public for a few hours, even if you spend the next day massaging your achilles tendon and whining about how much it hurts to be beautiful. 

This morning while sipping coffee with the rest of my family, the Fed-ex truck rolled up and delivered a dozen of the most perfect roses, each one a different color.  I opened the card to find they were from Annabelle, wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day.   Jesse said it was her idea, and he lent her the money.  (Is it any wonder I adore him?)

If I need another reason to be insanely fond of my man, he’s taking me out tomorrow night to celebrate my birthday.  Now, my birthday isn’t until May 21st, but May is a very busy month at Edge.  So last month he came to me and said, “Take May 11th off of work.  It’s a Tuesday.”

“A Tuesday?” I said in consternation.  “What could possibly be going on, on a Tuesday?”

“We’re celebrating your birthday.”

“But on a Tuesday?  What are we doing?”

“Oh hush.  A surprise.  Don’t ask me anything.”

So, being me, I waited meekly until now and have not bothered him once to find out the birthday surprise.  I’m very patient like that.

Haha!  No, sorry, I couldn’t keep a straight face for that one either.  I’ve asked him every other day what we are doing, and as usual, he kept his secret without so much as a single hint.  Although I do rather enjoy this yearly theme of a birthday surprise trip, I finally begged him at least give me a city to narrow things down, as the height of my heel would be determined by the amount of walking we’d do. 

While I was puzzling out what might be happening on a Tuesday, I realized the date we were going out was two years and a day after our first date.  When I mentioned this to Jesse, with the superior air of Sherlock Holmes having cracked a difficult case, he looked at me pityingly and was like, “Yes, I know.

“Oh.”  I sat back, thinking hard.  “So is this like, connected to our anniversary?”

He shook his head at me and sighed.  Then, with a patient tone, he explained to me that we would be going out on the actual night of our first date–May 10th. 

“Ohhh!” I exclaimed as the light dawned.  “We’re going out on Monday night because it’s our 2 year anniversary?  All this time I was thinking we were doing something that could only be done on a Tuesday!”

Thank goodness he likes me, because sometime I am rather slow, mentally.  He has since been good enough to reveal to me that not only are we going out on our anniversary but we are going BACK to the restaurant where we had our first date!  I am beside myself with excitement, since 1. It is a very romantic and cute thing of him to plan, and 2. LaCroix, at the Rittenhouse in Philly, is a fabulous place to eat at any given time.  I’m glad I didn’t know before our first date just how nice it was or I would have been even more nervous.

I was so very nervous on our first date that my hands were literally shaking.  We had arranged to meet at the rooftop bar at Continental, and by time I got there I was so rattled I couldn’t even read the cocktail menu.  My eyes were scanning it but nothing was processing, and I felt like an idiot just staring at it while he was watching me, waiting to order, so I just pointed to one of the mixed drinks and said, “I’ll have this.”  I remember it was called a Mexico City, and the only ingredient I noted was tequila, and thinking, “Great, now he thinks I’m a hardcore alcoholic!”

I almost didn’t go out with him that night, I was so apprehensive.  I had never before agreed to go on a date with a total stranger, and my sister promised to call at 9:15, just in case I needed an emergency exit.  Needless to say, at 9:15 I just smiled and turned off my phone.  I’ve never been happier that I took a chance on a strange guy.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to going back and reminiscing about how goofy we both were, (he later confessed that he was totally nervous, too) and how it was 10:30pm and everyone else in the restaurant was gone before we even realised the waiters were all lingering around, waiting for us to go!  And I’m hoping to go to Parc the next morning, my fave brunch place, and just spend Tuesday with the guy I’m crazy about.  Cause I really can’t think of a better way to spend a Tuesday… or any day, really.

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