Her through your eyes

It's no secret that Annie is a giant bundle of ... Annie. 

Those who know her.  Those who barely do.  They see her wild-thing nature.

She was tough in the womb. Kicked constantly.  Kept me nauseous through 23 weeks of pregnancy.  Produced fearful and painful Braxton-Hick contractions starting at 6 months pregnant.

I both wanted and was terrified to have a girl.

Most of you know I call her our sour patch kid.  She's sweet.  She's salty.

I say "she's... a lot."  A.  Lot.

I name her as feral.

I call her spirited.

"There's no mystery to Annie." is often how I describe her.

"You always know where she stands."

"She demonstrates executive leadership skills" (aka, she's bossy.)

"She's physically confident"  (she will try ANYTHING. Kamikaze-style)

She OWNS her completely incomprehensible and uncoordinated outfits that she chooses all alone "THIS IS WHAT I WEAR MAMA".  For better but mostly worse.

She's tactical.  She loves to touch and be touched.  Hug and be hugged.  Fist bumps.  High fives.

"I need to respect his space."  We say that.  Lots.

But there are moments that stick out in my mind.

I see her determinedly marching on the altar at church to sit with the Pastor.  Or in the lap of the children's ministry coordinator.

I think of my friend Janna, at a birthday party, vocally delighting in seeing Annie doing exactly... Annie.  Feeling completely comfortable and confident and owning the room.

I remember how Stefani says she looks forward to Annie stories to share with her Mom.

I see how Susan sits with her and talks to her-- about REAL LIFE THREE YEAR OLD THINGS.

My heart swells when Grandma Doris asks after "her" Annie.

And I think these are the exact women I WANT her to be like.

She sits with near strangers.  She shares her heart.  You ALWAYS know where she stands.

She tries anything. 

She can't pass a puddle without stomping in it.

She asks questions.  She talks.  Constantly.

She's fearless. 

Smart as a whip.

She is the BEST of grown women.

I need to see that through your eyes.

I see how people want to be with her.  Feed from her energy.  Enjoy her delight in... everything.

And I am taken back and reminded of the powerful, confident, accomplished women in my village. 

These are my people.  These are my women.  I AM those women.  I support and promote and surround myself by those women.

And how I think they see a little bit of Annie in themselves.  Through their eyes.

She's unvarnished.

She's present.

She's a tough crowd.

She's our Annie.

I wouldn't change her for the world.

(But I might turn down the volume sometimes.)

Instawhat?

Instagram is awesome. 

Seriously great.

All the memories and photos?

Not annoying your Facebook friends too much?

Instait. 

But then your Mom isn't in on it.

And your profile is Instaprivate.

So instaphoto dump.

This one is for you Bookie.

.

Sent via the Samsung Galaxy S® 6, an AT&T 4G LTE smartphone

Mischief

In a #parenting break:  oldest found the laundry detergent.
MANY OUNCES LATER it is not good
It is very very not good.

Dichotomous Parenting

di·chot·o·mous

dīˈkätəməs/

adjective

adjective: dichotomous

exhibiting or characterized by dichotomy.

"a dichotomous view of the world"

(of branching) in which the axis is divided into two branches

Did I google that just to make sure I'm using it correctly?

Yes.  Yes I did.

Am I using it correctly?

Yes, yes I am.

So we're here.  Six months into parenting of three, and I'm not sure we're #killingit even though from all outward perceptions we are #killingit , from all internal realities, we are DECIDELYNOT #killing it.

Let's go with the first thing:

Poor third kids.  Especially chilly willy ones.  They get NOTHING.  (I know Aunt Emilie just gave a hell yea, except the chilly willy part)

Remember how wonderful we were at all the preciousness milestones?  The first foods? The first guacamole at La Loma?  The rolling over and the sitting up and the OMG this kid and his smiles.  The jumping in the exersaucer and the first scary fever, and the oh-no-he-now-insists-on-sleeping-on-his-stomach.  And the swaddle dropping and the real-grocery-cart-sitting, and the leaving-the-room-for-2-minutes-and-he-rolled-all-the-way-to-the-stepsness

All those things?

We've done them.

I know what foods he likes (GREEN ONES). 

And oh, yea, curry.

The ones he doesn't (BANANA ONES).

That may or may not have to do with the fact that Annie basically "helping" almost caused a massive throat-sweep-pound-baby-on-back moment with said banana. 

So yea.  #killingit

And then the big ones. 

Remember how awesome they were doing with a new addition?  How we're settling in but everyone is doing great?

Everyone is NOT doing great right now.

The real reality is that we have our first R struggle, and is a real one.

He's losing his mind at school for a good 45 minutes a day.  Mid day.

We've gotten the calls from the principal. The worried emails from the teachers.  The love from the staff that knows him and knows he isn't his self

They are doing ALL THE THINGS.

We are doing ALL THE THINGS.

We are all trying to figure out what's wrong.

Possibilities?

• Dropping the nap (this is the easiest one to emotionally stomach and the reason I come back to that because it's well, the easiest and mean I'm not screwing something up).  I like this one. I keep advocating for this one.  I may be totally wrong in this one.

• Sibling ugh/jealousy.  Hooray.  Mama heart string number one!  He had me all the time in the Fall when I was on maternity leave.  We played on the playground for a solid hour every day after school.  He had lots of baby-sleeping-in-bjorn-just-us one on one time.  Lots.  And now he doesn't.  He's doing hard time at school.  7:30-5:30.  That's just our reality.  And he's losing it.  Cue:  I suck at parenting, chapter 478.

• This is the OMGIMNOTREADYFORTHISPARENTINGMOMENT. Social-emotional angst:  His best friend has a new best friend. This is his BROTHER.  They were a unit.  The unit, it was precious.  Now? He melts down immediately every day right at 11:30.  Right before the recess transition.  Our kid, we have know and the school has known from the beginning struggles big time with transtions, and now we have the transition+ the playground social anxiety and it is just a big ol mama bear ugh. R's not one to report well on emotions, but he has said he best friend has a new friend and said they can't be friends anymore and it makes my mama heart weep. He's always been a one-friend-loner-guy.  And now he's getting older and I worry he's scared and lonely.

So yea.  Let's hope it's the nap.

My mama heart can't take the working mama guilt.

Or the social emotional guilt.

And here's where I reveal that we were ready for this with Annie.  She's ALL IN.  We've been talking about friendship and kindness and goodness and how you treat people from the start.  And here I am latently reinforcing gender issues, thinking she may have challenges and he wouldn't.  Thanks for that punch in the face, universe.

Maybe I need to read a parenting book. 

Made it 5 years without one. 

Why start now?

We'll be ok.  He'll be great.  But I like reporting on love-of-curry more than tiny-friend-heartstrings. 

Dichotomous parenting.

That's for sure.

(The spacing of this post looks like eecummings wrote it.  That is also, decidedly, not the case, but I don't have the time to first it out).

It's cold: Annieisms

AH has been full of insightful comments lately.

The girl talks 24/7 (365).

All.  The.  Time.

I Facebooked the first delight of this week:

"B-a-k-e-r-y. That spells restaurant that gots cookies."

Truth.

This morning it was cold.  

Bone shatteringly.

Getting in the car, she panics.  Is wailing.  Losing it.

I finally get it out of her:

"THERE IS SMOKE COMING OUT OF MY FACE!!!"

Three.  It's funny.

(Yes, it was cold, yes you can see your breath.  Try not laughing at that one)