Sunrise, sunrise

The highlight of my day today was first thing this morning. Bee woke up just before 6 am and greeted me with, "Mommy, nudle."  

"Nudle" is Bee's attempt at pronouncing "cuddle" and in my early morning grogginess I was more than happy to oblige. I trundled her back to my bed and the two of us curled up and went back to sleep.  

David was very exasperated at his two girls lazing in bed on a Monday morning, of all days. He left us sleeping and went to the kitchen and began cooking breakfast. A little while later, I could smell pancakes cooking. 

Once breakfast was ready, David came back to the bedroom and rousted us out of bed and we all ate whole wheat apple pancakes and celebrated Max's fifth birthday (a little early this year, since he goes to the kennel tonight for ten days).  He had his own pancake with a candle and he sat proudly while we sang "Happy Birthday."  

After we sang,  Max wasn't sure what to do about the candle, as it impeded his immediate access to the pancake.  He started lunging toward it (I think he planned to eat around it) and for a few seconds was in immediate danger of singeing his fur.  I blew it out quickly and he ate his treat in a few quick gulps. 

It is quiet family mornings like today that sustain me during the hectic work week.  The pancakes were an extra bonus.

Weekends are too short

Well, it's 7 pm, David is giving Bee a bath and I have "Flight of the Bumblebee" running through my head. Despite cleaning up earlier this morning, there has been another toy eruption in the living room. I need to attack that and then go make up the bed.  

My one autumn housekeeping task for the weekend was accomplished: flipping the mattress, washing the mattress cover, bedding, and putting the duvet in the dryer to fluff.  Between the princess birthday party yesterday and a friend's 40th birthday party all afternoon today I didn't manage to do much else. 

My cold (avian influenza/walking pneumonia/plague) is still going strong.  So, I'm off to clean up, put Bee to bed and then take up residence on the couch with a magazine and box of tissues.

Sugar

We just came back from a neighbor's birthday party.  Miss M. turned three years old and celebrated with a pink princess party complete with a children's entertainer, face painting, balloon animals, loud music, a pinata, and lots and lots of children.  

Bee oscillated between being totally overwhelmed and wildly enjoying herself. She didn't want to have her face painted but braved having a flower painted on her arm.  She really, really, liked the cake. 

David is taking Bee and Max to the park and I am headed off to clean up around our apartment. It looks as though a party was thrown in here too, but it is only the vestiges of a toddler entertaining herself.  

I am looking forward to a quiet evening.

Nursemaid's elbow

This morning we were all getting ready for work, as usual, when Bee dislocated her elbow.  Bee was seated on the floor and she stretched her arms up toward David to be picked up. He reached down and picked her up by her arms (something neither of us generally do but every parent has done once in a while) when Bee's elbow goes "POP!" and she starts to cry.  

At first I thought okay, she has strained her arm a little bit and she'll be okay in a minute, this is typical toddler drama.  Ten minutes go by and Bee is still crying every time she moves her arm and I am thinking it's broken and using every ounce of self control not to freak out and start screaming at David.  I tell him to call our pediatrician. He immediately calls and explains what happened. Our pediatrician says, "This is nursemaid's elbow, I know what to do, I'll be right over."  

Let me just say that we are so lucky to have an American pediatrician, also living in Eastern Europe, who is our neighbor within walking distance. It is a blessing beyond belief.  Bee was calmer and in less pain, but every time she sees David she points at him with her good arm and says, in tones laced with venom, "Daddy did it."

I pull Bee into my lap and we read stories, endless board books, while we wait.  She is distracted, but David is even more distracted because when he placed the call on his Crackberry he saw an email congratulating him on his promotion.   The long awaited promotion lists for our jobs had been released. We were soothing Bee and trying to surreptitiously confirm that he, and I, had been promoted.  The nervous excitement was really too much.  

After about 20 minutes, the pediatrician arrives. I create a distraction while she firmly grips Bee's arm and with a twist and an audible "pop," her elbow slides back into place.  A nursemaid's elbow is a partial dislocation where a tendon slides over the bone. It is not as serious as an entire dislocation.  Amazingly, within minutes Bee was using her arm and no longer in pain.  

My stomach still twists when I think about this morning.  The evening was not much better. David was at a reception, so I came home alone.  I went out walking with Max and Bee in the stroller when a little boy about her age runs over and pokes Bee in the eye. Completely unprovoked.  Bee started screaming, less in pain but more in pure outrage. By the time we had got back to the apartment, her mood had moved beyond arsenic hour blackness into a poison all its own. 

There is a short flight of steps leading up to the door of my apartment. In order to get everyone inside, I have to take Bee out of the stroller, bring her and Max to the top of the steps and then go down and bring up the stroller. She was having none of it.  Screaming and doing the "worm" (going limp and refusing to move). 

I finally got everyone up and into the apartment. Bee was screaming at the top of her lungs, slung over my shoulder like an accident victim.  Max was not enjoying the noise and was refusing to follow me inside. I could actually see his Labrador brain calculating if he should make a break for it and go find a quieter family, preferably one with no family members under the age of 5.  I got everyone in, managed dinner, bath time (although the water was brown tonight) and bed time.  Since we all have colds no one will sleep well tonight. 

For now, though, it is quiet. David is home. I have a glass of pink champagne.  And yes, I got promoted. 

Hold me tight

David and I were walking home from the metro tonight, through our neighborhood park. It is a daily chance for the two of us to steal some private conversation. We can talk about our day while not trying to feed Max, make dinner and keep Miss Bee from wreaking kitchen havoc as she is wont to do. 

So today we were strolling arm in arm through the park, past my favorite group of rose bushes, the ones with Creamsicle orange roses as big as saucers, when, 15 meters ahead, I spot Bee and her babysitter. The babysitter saw us and pointed Bee in our direction. She took off running towards us, chubby legs pounding the sidewalk path shouting "Mommy! Mommy!"  

All the ladies on the bench turned their heads to look.  I was waving and hurrying toward her. I squatted down and held my arms open. She raced into them and hugged me tight saying, "Mommy here!" 

I savored hugging my baby for a few seconds longer than necessary, my face buried in her shiny hair.  For a brief moment the people on the benches, the park, the whole world vanished and it was just me and my daughter.  

I know that in a few years there will be drama and slamming doors and pre-teen angst.  Even now, parenthood challenges me every day.  

Life with a toddler is often like trying to keep a spilled glass of milk from pouring off the table and onto the floor.  You're flailing about trying to contain imminent disaster. The milk is everywhere, it's dripping, you're mopping it up and exasperated.  And then, some days, you have life with a toddler and spilled glasses of milk.  

But the spills and the messes and the tears--they all disappear when your daughter runs toward you, calling your name, arms wide open.

They aren't little trees. . .

Bee likes broccoli.  

Who has ever heard of a toddler wanting to eat broccoli?  Her exact words tonight while eating it were, "Yum yum, body good." (As in the "Milk, it does a body good" slogan David taught her.)  

We were both aghast.  I didn't like broccoli as a child and still do not particularly care for it. 

I rewarded my adventurous eater with healthy chocolate goldfish crackers for dessert.

October brings

so many wonderful things:

--Our trip to Greece.

--Our vacation at home in the United States.

--Bee's 2nd birthday. 

--Sweater weather.

--31 excuses for hot chocolate.

--Red, yellow, orange and brown leaves.

--Pumpkins and butternut squash for baking.

--Halloween.