Not-So-Terrible Two

Even saying that I have a two-year old feels strange in my mouth. But alas! it's true. Bryony turned two years old on her first day of school, and she has flourished and thrived ever since. All my worries that her development might be stunted by the trauma of being separated from her dad have been put aside. She is a mighty, mighty two year old and I feel so incredibly lucky to be a witness to her progress. Oh, and nothing about her is stunted. She's three feet tall at barely two years old.

I've started a little tradition of Friday date night with Bryony, taking her out to local restaurants to just spend some quality time together, catching up on her day and learning new things about her. Two weeks ago, we went for to our favorite Lansing Thai restaurant, Bangkok House. Last week, she was the classiest of little ladies at our favorite Indian restaurant, Sindhu. Tonight, we went to Altu's, the Ethiopian restaurant that serves up de-lish vegetarian fare with ample sides of injira bread. In the course of our little "dates," I've found that my daughter is growing and changing before my very eyes. She knows how to properly use a napkin--place it neatly in her lap--and wipe face and hands when necessary. She enjoys trying new foods, even exotic spicy foods, and she LOVES Indian (just like her mama). Tonight, upon asking for more bread (signing "more" with both hands in true American Sign Language), I told her she'd have to eat more of her veggies first. While she wasn't thrilled, she scooped up her spoon and played "airplane" with it, aiming the food-laden aircraft into the terminal, er, her mouth. I used to play that game with her many months ago, long enough ago that I wouldn't have expected her to remember. I can only assume that she plays the same game with the kids and teachers at school.

Bryony loves school. I'm not joking. She grabs my hand in the morning, pulling me out the door, saying over and over again, "Mama, GO! Ready!" If I dare spend five minutes fixing my lunch, I have to hear about it. "Mama, ready! No, Mama, go!" I make sure to turn the radio off on the three-minute drive to her school, trying to soak in as many last minutes with her as I can. Usually we sing songs, her favorites being Row, Row, Row Your Boat, Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, The Itsy, Bitsy Spider, and Baby Shark. But once we step foot inside her school, it's over. My little girl becomes a bunch of other little toddlers' friend, and she has little time for me. I try to get last hugs and kisses from her before I leave for work, but she won't even look at me, so intent is she on her friends (and the breakfast the teachers are about to dish out!). Gone are the days of her shedding tears when I leave; now the only one wanting me to linger...is me.

She knows the names of all her schoolmates, and a few weeks ago her daily report said she patted a classmate's back until he fell asleep! The teachers thought that was incredibly cute (and so does her mama...). She can also identify all of my family members from photos and is starting to learn Daddy's side, too. She thinks that any present that she receives comes from "Shan-don," my sister Shannon. She knows that her best buddy Iselin loves airplanes, so everytime one passes overhead, Bryony points to the sky, calling out "Airplane! Airplane! Iselin!"

Bryony loves animals, especially our cats Greg House and Holiday. She says good-bye to them everytime we leave the house, and runs to them first thing when we return. Her teachers at school have told me on multiple occasions that Bryony loves the stuffed cat and dog toys in the classroom, and carries them around all day long. She can make most animal sounds, true to their actual sound (ie--she snorts like a pig rather than saying "oink").

I found a couple weeks ago that she can count to ten in both English and Spanish (although she skips four and five in English, and counts a bit out of order in Spanish). One day while ending a Skype session with Adam, she adamantly repeated, "Ah-yos!" It took me awhile to realize she was attempting to say "Adios!" to her dad as we bid him farewell.

She still dances and girates to just about every single piece of music she hears. Tonight at dinner, she was jiggling in her seat to Mellencamp's "Cherry Bomb," Heart's "Magic Man" and Smokey Robinson's "Tears of a Clown." As I've been watching the first season of Glee on DVD the last few weeks, I've seen my little girl go from tiny dancer to little voice. Watch out Rachel Berry...

But as fast as she's growing, she's still young enough to not completely grasp some concepts, like the fact that Daddy is moving from "the box" to real life. At first, I thought it would be fun to surprise her with Adam's arrival by having him pick her up from school with me one day. But I realized that at barely two years old, she has been through the ringer when it's come to moves and separations, and it wouldn't be fair to her to spring another change--good as it might be--on her while she's still so young. So instead, I've been casually saying things like, "It'll be great when Daddy's here to take you to school, right?" or "I can hardly wait to see Daddy give you big hugs!" She just looks at me skeptically and says, "No, Mama. Daddy. Box." Hey, I tried.

She gets into loads of trouble, have no doubt. Timeouts have become a familiar friend (to me) in our household and yes, they work! She hates being put in the corner, hates being forced to sit still, hates being ostracized while the world goes on around her. I set the timer on the oven and go about my business while she howls and wails. I tell her I can deal with a crying child, but I cannot deal with a disobedient one. She doesn't appreciate that statement, but that's okay.

Oh! One more thing! (and yes, I realize I'm going through the laundry list...). She has started using the potty! Well, the potty chair, but it's a start. Funny how this very rote necessity in adult life is such a monumentous occasion when it comes to our kids learning...but the idea of disposable diapers and diaper rash being a thing of the past is so incredibly motivating that I am hopping onboard the "potty chair" bandwagon and in the front seat. But, I know my kid enough to know that she will potty train in her own due time, not under my timeline. Stubborness. An inherited trait.

Oh, and she loves shoes. Her new favorite thing is to wear just a diaper and wedge heels. She's setting fashion trends for babies the world over.

There are so many things I'm forgetting to talk about, I know. She is growing so fast and is so fun and lovely, and time is passing by so quickly, I can hardly keep up. But, alas, here are a few nuggets about my wee bit who is tall and leggy and getting too big for me to still be calling baby.

You'll always be my baby, B.

Snippets

Why did the person next to me decide to park their beatup van so close to my car that could barely squeeze Bryony into her carseat as I tried to open my car door?

Why does the person who did the hurting barely remember the event, when the person who was hurt can't forget?

How do you know when it's time to let go of old grudges and just friend that snooty popular kid from high school on Facebook?

Why does my cat insist on sleeping on top of the computer printer/fax when there is a perfectly good couch and kitty bed in the same room?

How can I love my cats, and yet not love having cats?

When will I stop having awful daydreams about tragic things happening to my kid?

Will my house ever be as clean as I'd like it to be?

Who can I thank for Skype?

-Snippets-

Hasta Luego, Amigos

Bryony's little boyfriend Mateo moved away with his family this week. We said our final good-byes in their front yard the evening before they left. I teared up, and gave Mateo's mum, Pam, a good long hug. Bryony and Mateo said unwitting "good-byes." As we pulled away from their house, however, Bryony shouted, "Mama!" When I answered her, she repeated tearfully, "Teo? Teo? Teo?" She had never called out for her little friend before, so something told me she knew this good-bye was going to be the last one for awhile.




Bryony and Mateo have known each other since they were about seven months old. Bryony and I met Teo and his mama when we were all volunteering at the local community greenhouse. The kids got the affectionate nickname "Garden Babies" from the staff because they played in the dirt all the time.



Pamela became a dear friend. Pamela, you taught me so much about what "be(ing) good to people!" is all about. You and Luke set the example. Thank you for your kindness, wisdom and friendship. I miss you already.




Pamela and I have jokingly said that we'll re-introduce arranged marriages in this country just to make sure we are in-laws one day. We've both acknowledged that it smarts a little to know that our babies will likely not ever remember each other, despite their sweet baby relationship now. How many little friends did we both have as children whose names we don't even know now as adults? Our kids might one day look through this blog, or a photo album and ask who that kid sitting next to them in the picture was. I'll just smile.




Even if Bryony and Mateo don't grow up knowing each other, I hope to never lose touch with my friends Pamela and Luke. You guys are an amazing family, and I feel so lucky to have you as friends. But alas, no adios, but rather, "until then..." :-)

And So We Begin...

The countdown to Adam's arrival has begun. Although we don't know for sure what day he'll come in, I've decided to think that the 18th is the day. That means I'm only 16 days away...and since today is almost over, it's really only 15 days away.

But, in true don't-rush-my-life-away fashion, I'm trying to just enjoy the days between here and there, knowing that while his visit will be amazing, it will also go by amazingly fast. So, I'm allowing myself to enjoy the anticipation and excitement leading up to his arrival as much as I can to stretch out the entire experience.

Looking forward to seeing you, love.

All The Single Ladies

A few weeks ago, I had a couple girlfriends and their daughters over for a mama-baby playdate. After a summer-fresh snack of strawberries and cream, I noticed one of my friends jumped up to clear my dishes from the table, proceeding to wash and stack them at my kitchen sink. When I tried to protest, she responded, "I know you're not really a single mother, but you kind of are right now...and I know that you must be overwhelmed, so I want to help you where I can." All at once, I was touched by her kind consideration, and also surprised that my friends see me as a single mother. Yes, I feel sorry for myself sometimes when I can't participate in events that aren't child-friendly, or when Adam misses out on Bryony's first swim or dance class. But single mother?

In the last month or so, an elderly man on my street has been walking by my front yard to chat when he sees me working in the garden. I'm usually wary of talking to strangers on my street, but he introduced Bryony and me to his 2-year old granddaughter, and he generally seems nice. The last time he came by, he asked me if I owned my house and if I needed him to do any yard work. When I thanked him and told him I was fine and pretty self-sufficient, he walked away with the parting words, "Let me know if I can do anything to help you." It only dawned on me a day or so later that his family must be new to the neighborhood, and since he's never seen Adam, he must assume I'm a struggling single mother raising my daughter on my own. Again, I was really touched and surprised. But then I realized that it bothered me a little that people think of me as a single mother. Evidently it irks me more than I care to admit, because I now realize that I make a point of mentioning Bryony's daddy when I'm at her daycare or one of her activities. I actively try to make it clear that I'm not a single mother.

Why? I consider myself a pretty open-minded and accepting person. Why would I care if the world views me as a single mother? I've never thought that I looked disparagingly upon single mothers, so why would it bother me to be confused as one? Results from a nationwide Pew Research survey suggest that while America has become more accepting of mixed-race families, gay parents and unmarried parents, we still have a problem with the idea of single women raising children. NPR's Talk of the Nation did a call-in segment on this study soon after its release. I remember being in my bedroom, folding clothes, and feeling absolutely livid that people actually think that single mothers are bad for America (as the survey reported). Seriously? Single mother after single mother (some single mothers by choice, others by circumstance) called in, repulsed by the idea that our nation is judging them for raising their kids the best way they know how. One woman called in, asserting that it was interesting how the survey asked respondents, "Do you think that single mothers are bad for society?" but not "Do you think that men who abandon their children are bad for society?" Why did the survey phrase the questions to directly target the women who have assumed the responsibility of raising their children, instead of gearing them toward the men who have skirted theirs? Then there was a caller who had actually received and responded to the survey. When asked if she felt that "single mothers are bad for society?" she said that she interpreted the question not as blaming the women, but rather saying that single parenting is unfairly hard on mothers, and society does little to help them. Interestingly, the survey did not ask respondents how they felt about single fathers. Single fathers called into the show, too, noting that they have felt that society has underestimated their abilities to raise their children since people don't think of fathers as nurturing figures by nature.

One of the more interesting experiences that one woman spoke of is feeling ostracized by other parents at her child's school--not getting invited to social gatherings, and having a hard time finding friends amongst married couples. Some married parents won't allow their children to play with the child of a single mother for religious or moral reasons (crazy!). I have had the exact opposite experience amongst my peers--Bryony and I get included in more social gatherings than I can keep up with and my friends offer their help and love beyond my expectations. But is this because they know that I do have a husband, that there is a father in the picture? Perhaps his military service means that it's not my "fault" that I'm in my current situation. Now, I have no doubt that the people who I call friends would never judge me regardless of my situation or the reasons behind it, but still, it's an interesting thought.

Why do Americans think that single mothers are bad for society? And why have I flinched--even a little--by the suggestion that I am one, even for a little while? Perhaps our country has not come as far as we think we have in terms of the way we view women and their role in society--what women are capable of, responsible for, and worthy of. Perhaps I am not as free-thinking as I thought I was, and yes, I need to work on that. Why not let my friend wash my dishes for me, or let the old man in the neighborhood help me with my yardwork? Why not take on this new label, and wear it, own it? I am a single mother, at least for now, and it is great to have extra help. And it's great to have the one-on-one bonding time with my daughter. And no, there doesn't have to a stigma attached to being a single mother, or to the reason that I am one. Being a good mother, single or not, is the most important factor in raising my kid.

After all, rumor has it that a single mother can raise the future President of the United States.