Scary Sharks

The other day Wren and her Dada were drawing on the chalkboard in her room.  They were drawing the ocean and all the creatures who live there.  Wren will be three in July so most of what she knows about the ocean, she learned from Finding Nemo.

They drew, ahem, Nemo. Jellyfish, sea turtles, Dory the angelfish and finally "scary sharks."  When she said scary sharks, she also held up her hands and wiggled her fingers and spoke in a whispered ominous voice. "Scary sharks!"

While I think it's hilarious, I also think its unfortunate.  I hate that my daughter is learning fear at such a young age.  She's also recently afraid that "Swiper" is going to come pilfer everything from our home.  She handed her baby sister a toy and said, "Mama, Swiper no swiping from Baby Aum!" I hate that she really thinks a cartoon fox is a threat.  Maybe it's my fault for letting her watch these cartoons. Or maybe she was inevitably going to develop a fear of something at this age anyway. 

Fear is good, it keeps us safe. But sometimes it keeps us too safe.  Fear duplicitously makes us think we're being safe when really we're being held back.  Children learn fear at a tender age and before we know it, the "scary sharks" turn out to be jobs, moving, relationships and change in general.

How many times have I talked myself out of "going for" something because I convinced myself there was somebody better, or I wasn't qualified, or "someones already thought of that."  In truth, all of those things might be true but why not try anyway? Fear. Fear insidiously gets in my head becoming the voice of oppression.That voice tells me,  "You're too old now for that old dream. That ship has sailed. Hang it up, girl."   Our perception is our reality, even though it may not be real reality. We believe what
fear tells us.

You should be afraid to get in cars with strangers. That is legitimate fear.  But self-limiting, dream-killing fear should be admonished and sent to bed with no supper.  I say (and hope to practice what I'm about to preach here) throw open the doors of your dreams and walk through! Punch those scary sharks in the nose and start swimming!  Even if you fail to do what you set out to accomplish, you have succeeded.  Regret is a shark bite in and of itself.  You'll never regret reaching for something you want.
Fear keeps us from really living. To live is to grow, to thrive, to experience! Don't let fear talk you out of making changes.  Change brings growth and freshness. Live, don't merely exist.

Baby One

Autumn~

You're five months old. My goodness gracious these months have flown by.  You are the happiest
baby I've ever seen. You smile and wiggle and giggle and chuckle. Your toothless drooly grin makes me smile every time.  You're rolling over from tummy to back and back to tummy.  You reach for toys
and study your fingers.  It's been chilly, but on the warm days when you don't wear socks, it's a treat to watch you explore your toes.  I treasure these baby moments with you because I know you're my last baby. I gaze at your rubber band wrists and fatty legs. Your rolls are so chubby I could just squeeze you
all day long.  Soon you'll be sitting up and trying to crawl.  You're such a good sleeper too; sleeping 8-10 hours at night!
I give you sweet baby talk and precious nicknames like chipmunk, chumba wumba and baby one.

You are after all, my Baby One.

Love,
Mama

I wuz cankles

Wren~

You're not really a toddler anymore. You're starting to be a kid.  The chubby budda belly is
slimming down. You're getting tall and lean. Those cankles are nearly gone too.  You were such a cute baby and now you're turning into such a pretty little girl.  You're thoughtful and sweet, always saying thank you and your welcome. You're just starting to pay attention to your baby sister. I swell with love when I see you smiling and interacting with her.  You also have a new bff. Our dog, Mya.  You share your snacks with her, even when I tell you not to. You love to take her for walks so you can hold the leash. I think your favorite time is when she lays next to you on the couch while you watch cartoons. 

You're asserting your independence each day, telling us, "You stay here!" while you attempt to go do something by yourself.  The other day while you and I were eating lunch you starting asking "why" to everything I said. I starting laughing and said, "oh no oh no oh no!" as I realized we'd hit the "why" stage.  You were hilarious; getting a bewildered look on your face, you tried to formulate a very complex thought and asked me, "Mama, why you say, 'oh no?'"  You were trying to understand my reaction.  It just made me realize how big you're getting and how complex your thoughts and words are getting.

You do have a habit of raising your voice, stomping your foot and crossing your arms if you don't get your way. Hmmm, I wonder where that stubborness comes from.

My favorite times are when you sit on my lap and snuggle. I say, "I love you Birdy," and you (sucking your thumb and twirling your hair) look up at me sideways and say, "I wuz you too mama."

I will always wuz you Birdy.

Love,
Mama

Wyons and Tigers

Tonight in the backyard Wren was yelling at our dog, Mya, to stop eating squirrel poop.  It was hilarious! We also went around the yard in a virtual "snowstorm" of dandelion seeds floating in the air picking said "danda wyons."  Wren is going through a very counterdependent phase right now.  I believe shrinks call it the "separation process" and the rest of us call it the "terrible twos."  She wants to help us do everything, which really is more of a hindrance mostly. Except when I'm making dinner and need her to rock her baby sisters swing and talk to her. Or when I have Autumns pumpkin seat in the big part of the shopping cart and Wren is riding in the rumble seat and I need her to turn around and smile, talk and rock her baby sister while I get some shopping done.  It makes up for the times she wants to help feed the dog; one piece of dog food at a time.

We have our house on the market.  I spend a certain amount of time stuffing mail, toys, stray socks and washcloths into various hiding places and then can't find them again.    Most of our belongings are in storage but the few that remain in the house keep getting shuffled in the name of keeping the house staged.  It's a huge pain in the ass. But alas, I can't wait to sell this house.  It's in a very busy part of the city. We live near a hospital so the siren noise is all the time.  Siren noise all the time will make a person edgy and anxious.  Give me a home where the buffalo roam and the skies are not cloudy all day....

Autumn is such a sweet and happy baby. She smiles and laughs more in one day than Wren would in a week at that age. I choose to breastfeed. Wren was a marathon feeder. She would languish on my breast for 30-45 minutes. She was a gentle, thoughtful feeder though. Never biting or tugging.  Autumn is much different.  She's a sprinter. She's done nursing within ten minutes.  If you look at my boobs though, it looks like I've been breastfeeding a baby tiger.  While she eats, she pinches, kneads and scratches with her sharp little fingernails.  And she pops off the boob with a lip smack so loud she wakes herself up.  Startled, she looks up at me like I did something, then grin.  Even her eyes smile.

My girls. They make me tired. They make me smile.