1 Mother 2 Another

I’ve always sworn that we will not
be the kind of parents who give in to our children’s every
whim; who fly into a panic when one little thing is imperfect in a
daughter’s life; who will run out in the middle of the night
on Christmas eve for that one last toy.


I was wrong.

I love books. I love reading them over and
over again, and treasure the books in my possession like best
friends to keep with me for life. I wear out my library card, and
rarely buy a book I haven’t already read at least once: I
usually check out books I’m interested in, give them a read,
and if one sticks with me I’ll write it down to buy at a used
bookstore at some point. I love books.


Maddie and Cora are shaping up to be the same way, not that they
have much choice. Pretty much all of their grandparents love
reading as well, and one-on-one reading time is built into our
daily schedule at least twice a day, usually more. Books are what
we usually give for birthdays or other big occasions, both to each
other and to friends. What I’m trying to say is, this is a
big book household. I’m a very generous lender, but the books
we choose to own become somewhat precious to us, both for their own
sake and for the memories attached to them of the giver or
situation in which they are received.

I think it’s no secret that my girls
do love themselves and audience, and last year when they learned
about the tradition of door-to-door caroling they were all over it.
We laid plans with like-minded friends which went awry, but I
should not have been surprised when Maddie and her friend Elise
both brought it up this year – “We’re going
caroling this year, right?”


Yesterday was a balmy December day in Texas, hovering in the
mid-seventies and forcing me into a short-sleeved shirt.
Nonetheless, at 5 p.m. it was Music Time and we saddled up our
sleigh – er, wagon – and hit the road. Listen, if you
had seen my girls coming down the street you would’ve pulled
over and died of cuteness. There they were in red outfits, santa
hats on, jingle bells tied around them, singing lustily as they
warmed up their repertoire. I know it’s not just because
I’m their mom – they were extraordinarily adorable.

Sunday was a big day for us: church,
decorating our Christmas tree, hosting a small gathering at our
house - and oh yes, going to see Santa. The girls practiced what
they were going to say several times in the days leading up to it,
and I could see both were a bit nervous – not of meeting the
guy himself, I’m afraid, but of messing up their order.

Friday afternoon Maddie and Cora were
putting on yet another show in our living room when the inevitable
happened – bickering, squabbling, fighting over everything.
Who got to sing first, who got to carry the fan, you name it, they
fought over it. In desperation, I came in with a severe punishment.


“That’s IT! I’m tired of you two fighting like
this every time you do a show. As a consequence, you will not be
allowed to do ANY shows for . . .” wait for it –
“ONE DAY.”


The weeping. The wailing. The gnashing of teeth. The girls
weren’t sure how they’d get through the next day.

Today’s the last day of school
before our two-week winter break, and to say this house is excited
would be like saying Texans are mildly proud of their state. Cora
and Maddie both have been counting down the days, and with an event
almost every day this week, either at school or at home, it’s
already felt a bit like vacation.


I’m a bit sad about how much Maddie’s looking forward
to Christmas break; I deeply loved school when I was a child
(freak, I know) and wish Maddie was as enamoured of it as I used to
be. At the same time, I have to confess that I’m chomping at
the bit to have my child back all to myself, and I’m looking
forward to our two-week “staycation” almost as much as
she is.


Of course, check in with me in two weeks when I’ve been
cruise director for two impatient, over-sugared kids for several
days, and I might have changed my tune.

Every year it seems we run into a problem
with Christmas and the girls’ wish lists. Last year, Maddie
was all over asking Santa to bring her a ballet barre – until
she saw a pretty necklace in a jewelry store, and that was all she
could think of.


This year, the troublemaker might be Cora.

At the risk of tempting fate, I'm calling
it - Cora's feeling better.


Girlie went to bed at 6 p.m. yesterday near-catatonic, after
sleeping almost constantly since 2 p.m. She woke up briefly a
couple times but was out for good at 4 a.m., not waking up until
7:30.


And did she wake up.

After fooling me with a relatively good
day on Sunday, Cora's relapsed - as in vomiting again. The doctor
finally gave her an anti-nausea drug and she's now able to keep
down - wait for it - apple juice.


I think the drug's also a narcotic because she's been asleep
almost the whole time since she took it. Hmm, I can think of future
uses for these pills . . .


Praying Tuesday will be better.

Maddie gradually got better last week,
attending school for a half day on Thursday and all day Friday. My
stomach bug morphed into a wicked sore throat, which has turned out
to be a combination of a tonsil/sinus/ear infection and some virus
called the Adenovirus. So my health has been limping along, and I
finally began to feel a bit better yesterday.


But Friday morning, Cora came down with a fever.


Yep.

Thanks for the emails checking in - we're
still alive.


Barely.


Let's just say it's been a hard week, and I'll see you on
Monday.

Yep, clearly I have to hang in there a few
more days.


Maddie’s slightly better, because when the medicine kicks in
she’s got energy enough to go manically around the house. She
put on a full-length ballet – and wrote a song to go with it
– yesterday; decorated a tree in multi-medium art forms; and
mopped the floor. Yep, mopped the floor. Hey, she asked to do it.


In between her moments of imitating a whirling dervish, though, she
was catatonic on the couch, huddled underneath a down comforter and
shivering uncontrollably. She actually fell asleep under the
blanket, even her head buried, with just as mall breathing airway
punched in with my fist. We watched Sesame Street, and Between the
Lions, and more Sesame Street. Good times.


And it’s only Tuesday.

Late Thursday night I came down with a
swift stomach bug, from which I’m not yet fully recovered.
Saturday morning, Maddie began looking glassy-eyed, until that
afternoon when she was complaining about head pain, throat pain,
ear pain, and chills. A quick trip to the doctor confirmed that it
is viral, and we may be in it for a few days.


Maddie went through moments of feeling better on Sunday –
running around putting on shows, sculpting people out of Play-doh,
making cards for her teacher. Then she’d hit that wall and
collapse back on the couch. So I’m hoping she’s going
to be better still today, but who knows.

We’ve got a few Corduroy books in
our house – the original plus Corduroy Finds a Pocket, and
Corduroy Lost and Found. The girls both love them all and we will
periodically dig them back out and put them in high rotation, as
has happened recently. Cora, especially, is fond of them right now
and has been talking about Corduroy and what she’d do if she
could play with him.


Which is why my mom went into her room yesterday morning and came
out with a stuffed bear of her own (long story) wearing red
corduroy overalls. “This is my Corduroy, Cora, do you want to
play with him?”


Um, is Elmo red?

Maddie’s worrying has gotten worse,
and it has us, well, worried. Right now, several weeks spent on
Fire Safety combined with nearly daily fire drills has gotten
Maddie rather freaked out about the possibility of fire, both at
school and at home, to the point that she worries when she hears
the house heater come on, and frets the entire day if we’ve
got a fire in the fireplace.


I was talking about this recently with someone I know who is a
children’s therapist, and she asked me what we do in these
situations. “Well, Maddie will usually ask question after
question about the situation – how do you start a fire in the
fireplace? How do you know it will stay in the fireplace? What
happens if it doesn’t stay in the fireplace? How can you be
sure? – and we try to answer each one, calmly dissipate her
fears, and de-mystify the worry by breaking it down
logically,” I said a bit smugly.


Apparently, that was the wrong answer.