1 Mother 2 Another

If there’s anything worse than
realizing your baby is about to be a kindergartener, it’s
realizing your baby is about to graduate from kindergarten.


And be a first grader.

The girls had their annual ballet recital
over the weekend, and it was quite the event for everyone involved.


This was Cora’s first recital EVER, and she’d been
looking forward to it since she started ballet in September. At
various times throughout the year she gave me instructions on how
the Big Day would go, such as: “Mommy, I’m going to
need someone to drive me to the theatre for the recital. So
you’ll need to take me there, then leave me backstage.
Don’t try to stay with me, ok? This is important.” Or
how about, “Mommy, when you come to get me after the
performance, you need to bring flowers with you to give me.”


Little gems like that.

Earlier this week I was taken out for a
working dinner to an incredibly nice restaurant – we’re
talking forty-dollar steaks, and the potato costs extra. I
didn’t know when I went it was going to be so great, and I
carefully kept half my meal to bring home and share another day.


Being the incredibly kind and selfless daughter that I am, I let my
mom have my leftovers last night, and watching her face melt as she
took her first bite was almost worth it. While we ate, I described
the place to her, finishing by saying, “It was a really
excellent restaurant, and I’d highly recommend it for some
special occasion.”


Cora tuned into the conversation and spoke up. “Hey, Gamma, I
know another really fine restaurant if you ever want to go
someplace really special!”


Mom looked at her while I mentally scrolled through all the places
we’d been recently. Nothing that might require closed-toed
shoes came to mind.

Last night we had spaghetti, as is often
the case on the day Maddie has ballet and I teach right before
dinner. Maddie had her usual
noodles-with-one-meatball-hold-the-sauce order, and as the family
sat around eating together she broke into song – “On
Top of Spaghetti”.


Brian and I could only remember the first verse, so Brian looked up
all the lyrics on his android phone. He and Maddie sang lustily
through the meatball rolling under the bush, then turning to mush,
then growing into a big meatball tree next spring while Cora
continued to eat and I cleared dishes.


Before they could get to the part about new meatballs growing in,
Brian noticed a strange “bah-hah-hah” sound from Cora.
He looked up and saw her, a smile screwed onto her face, trying to
hold back making noise. “Cora, are you crying, baby?”
Brian asked her.

Mama Dove has not budged out of our
bougainvillea for over 48 hours now, so we're thinking there are
some eggs under that bird hiney. From what I've heard, morning
doves are not known for their excellent parenting skills, so we may
have a "teaching opportunity" coming up here in a couple weeks: as
in, "Mommy, why did the babies die? Where do they go now?"


On the up side, our monarch caterpillar is getting fatter and
fatter, and we know he's got to cocoon within a week now.


I'm telling you, it's babies and new beginnings all over the
place here.

Just off our kitchen is a sweet little
side yard, with a door for quick in-and-out and a small patio for
morning meditation. We have a birdbath, a few hanging flower
baskets, some lovely flowering vines, and about a dozen different
fresh herbs planted in a sweet garden. It’s a major reason
why we bought this house.


Every morning we sit at our breakfast table and look out at the
dewy lawn and wonder what visitors the garden will see for the day;
we’ve got a hummingbird feeder that calls frequent visitors,
lots of butterfly-friendly flowers, and pinecones rolled in peanut
butter and birdseed tied to our fence. Cora will happily putter
there all morning, walking back and forth to the rain barrel to
water the herbs or check on the strawberries or try to coax a
four-legged visitor into our yard. And recently, the visitors have
been plentiful.

Yes, Cora had her fourth birthday
yesterday, and it was positively wonderful.


The birthday started the night before: one of our family traditions
is that the birthday girl receives a new pair of summer pajamas as
she goes to bed on her birthday eve, so Cora hit the sack in
hot-pink zebra-striped pjs, feeling like hot stuff. She slept until
almost 8 a.m. (which would have been great had big sister done the
same), and when she came out of her room she ran into her Gamma.
Squatting excitedly with her hands on her knees, Cora said,
“Guess what, Gamma! I woke up four today!”

Dear Cora:


Well, love, you’ve survived, and given your penchant for
diving into a situation headfirst and asking questions later, your
survival has not always been a safe assumption. But you’ve
made it – you’re officially four years old now.


I think this is the first year you’ve looked forward to your
birthday as something more than just “time to get
presents” day; this year you’ve been very eager about
the act of turning four, of gaining another year, itself. You long
to be the same age as your sister Madeleine, and I’m not sure
when it will sink in that, in spite of your best efforts, you will
never catch up.


Or perhaps, knowing your personality, you’ve already realized
that but refuse to give up trying.

So Monday morning, Cora comes downstairs
with a band-aid on her finger. When I left her the night before,
there was no band-aid on the finger.


“Look, Mommy, see my band-aid?” she asked, waving the
finger in my face.


“Yep, sure do,” I said. “Did you just get it and
put it on this morning before coming down?”

Yesterday the girls and I headed to the
park for some fun, Cora on her bike and the rest of us walking.
Cora packed a purse full of toys, I brought our water bottles, and
Maddie packed a first-aid kit. Just in case.


The girl must have been psychic, because on the way home Cora fell
of her bike. The bike didn’t even tip over; it simply leaned
a bit on a bump and Cora toppled off. She fell on her hiney,
bumping it a bit, and looked at me startled.


Maddie rushed over with her purse half-way opened: “Cora, are
you ok?”


Cora looked up at Maddie and said sadly, “Maddie, I fell on
my hiney!”


Maddie leaned over, the Concerned Older Sister. “Oh, poor
baby. Do you need a band-aid for it?”


Cora blinked, the wheels turned in her head, and she said,
“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Finding time to exercise while being
responsible for small children is not always easy. I’m not a
fan of working out after they’re in bed, as I simply get too
hyped up to sleep at a decent hour; and rising earlier than my
usual 6 a.m. to fit in some fitness time is out of the question
– I still don’t sleep through the night a couple nights
each week, and every second of unconsciousness is precious to me.


So I usually find myself exercising during Cora’s afternoon
quiet time. It’s relatively interruption-free, and my energy
flags after lunch anyway. I often spend a few moments of devotional
time beforehand, so while I try to finish before Cora comes
downstairs, sometimes she arrives while I’m still sweating
along with Jillian Michaels.

This Saturday our neighborhood is having
its annual garage sale; hundreds of houses throw their undesirables
on their front lawns and everyone chips in five bucks for
advertising. Cars begin circling the neighborhood around 6:30 a.m.;
chaos reigns supreme from 8-9:30 or so, and then it’s a
steady trickle until perhaps noon.


For the past three years Maddie and Cora have had a lemonade stand
on garage sale day, making fresh-squeezed lemonade and baked goods
to sell to all the early-morning souls. It’s their one
money-maker of the year, and both girls now eagerly look forward to
it each May.


Last year we expanded and offered coffee as well, and this year
we’re adding bottles of water. We’ve been baking for a
week with more to do, and the event is getting bigger by the
minute.

As I mentioned last week, allergies hit
Cora hard. Actually, I think they started with me.


I was down for the count two weekends ago, so bad I was convinced
it was a cold. I’m on allergy meds 365 days a year, and the
only thing I don’t take – Zyrtec – will actually
put me to sleep for a good 18 hours at a stretch. So when allergies
hit, there’s not much I can do.


But as I said, I at first thought it was a cold, and simply
rejoiced that no one else got it. Then Cora went down and I assumed
she had the same “cold”, but gave her some allergy
medicine just in case.


She was bubbly and bouncing twelve hours later.

I remember as a child looking at
Mother’s Day with bewilderment; what, exactly, is THAT all
about? Tell Mom you love her, let her pick where we eat lunch,
yadda yadda yadda. Doesn’t that make EVERY day Mother’s
Day?


Now, of course, I have a different perspective, but it’s
still kinda weird to me. I mean, I enjoy my kids making me the
cards, and getting to go someplace nice for dinner, but my children
are still young enough that I see evidence every day of their love:
I get the snuggles and cuddles and kisses almost constantly, and so
don’t need a special day set aside for them to shower me with
affection.


I need a day of rest from that affection.

Yes, Cora’s down with something
again. Either bad allergies or a cold – only time will tell
which it is as we hope the Zyrtec builds up in her system and
works. Right now, it’s simply an extreme stuffiness and the
occasional headache.


Unfortunately for Mommy and Daddy, Cora simply cannot sleep when
she’s stuffy. She’s up every thirty or forty-five
minutes, whimpering and crying because her face just HURTS.
It’s simply exhausting for us, which is why we ended up
bringing Cora into our room at midnight last night; I’d
already been into her room FIVE times and couldn’t deal with
another night like the one before.


So instead we were awakened every hour or so with a whimpering,
crying kid, but at least we didn’t have to get out of bed to
deal with it.


I forgot how much I hate missing out on sleep.

You may remember that Maddie and a couple
friends put together the kindergarten Green Team on Earth day;
it’s a club dedicated to picking up trash and recycling on
school grounds. Part of their big plan was to talk to the principal
and get the club announced on morning announcements so other kids
would know to recycle.


Yesterday, the Green Team’s dream came true.

A couple days ago we were out a farm and
Cora lay down in the dirt as we were walking to the car to go home.
“Cora, don’t lie down again, please, we need to keep
moving,” I said. “Sorry, Mommy,” Cora said, and
got up, walking a few steps.


And then lying down again.


“Cora, I told you not to lie down again!” I said.
“Sorry,” she said, and stood up.


“So am I, honey, because you just lost your video from
disobeying,” I replied.


Cora burst into tears. “But I said I was sorry!”

Yes, I believe I can say –
completely unbiased – that the Swan Lake excerpt was the
highlight of the kindergarten talent show.


Maddie and Elise showed a remarkable lack of nerves, and both
seemed excited and ready for their primary school debut. I was
fortunate to score a choice seat in the audience, and even more
fortunate that the two girls were seated right in front of me. I
took advantage and leaned in for some last-minute coaching.
“Ok, girls, what’s the most important thing to remember
here?” I whispered.

Maddie’s school is having a talent
show today, and any child who wishes to can perform.


Need I mention who is performing?