An update on the school girl

Yeah, well, there's been a reason it's taken so long to get back on here.

School is no longer our favorite word.

Time was, before her birthday, that even the mere mention of her turning two would result in Daisy telling everyone proudly: "I'm going to school."

Now, you even mention the "s" word and a balls-out tantrum ensues. "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Mummy! Don't WANT to go to schoooooooooooooooooooool."

Yeah, it's like that.

School days start out in blissful ignorance, a happy toddler snuggling with us on the couch while we watch Mummy's other husband (George Stephanopolous) on GMA. But by the time we get to breakfast, the question of where everyone is going and what they'll be doing today, arises.

And then the screaming begins.

If you know Daisy, you'll know she does not whine. She does not whimper. I'm not even sure she knows how to *just* cry. (If she does, I certainly have not heard it.) There is only screaming. Screaming at a decibel high enough to warrant a noise ordinance. Bright-red-faced, mouth-wide-open, full-body-flinging, screaming.

Deep breath.

The last 3 mornings, it has escalated to protesting at the dressing process. Meaning, we cannot get her dressed.

If you have or have ever had a toddler, you'll know that I mean this literally. If you don't have children, you're wondering how the hell this can be. I mean, I'm 5'2" and 147lbs. How is it that I cannot restrain a 23lb child sufficiently to dress her? Right? Right!?

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

C'mon on over and try it for yourself. I double-dog dare you. (Tip: bring a helmet and padding.)

It's like trying to wrestle a damn alligator. Imagine 23lbs of determined strength, buckling-down to resist you and completely oblivious to any personal harm that her actions may cause her. (Like whacking her shaking head against a wall - CHECK. Or smacking it against the tile floor - CHECK.)

It's a torso whipping back and forth, a head on top doing the same, then arms and legs all moving in different and opposing directions. Now imagine trying to put pants on THAT: while you're busy doing one thing, she's undoing another. You get the left leg in a pant and, while you force in the right, the left will kick itself free.

Socks? Forget about it! Unless you want to lose an eye ball (or, if you're Daddy, another kind of ball.)

Today I had to manage this alone while my husband went to an early-morning appointment and I kid-you-not that I had to pin her torso down to the floor with my left leg, while I strong-armed her river-dancing legs into her pants.

Thank God CPS was nowhere in sight.

Once the dressing debacle is complete, Daisy moves to bargaining and delay tactics. Read one more book. Go to Nanny's first. Get a glass of milk (she never drinks milk!) Change into a different top. Wear shorts instead.

When this does not work, she begins to move forward with guilt. "Mummy doesn't want you!" she pouts.

Then, finally, she begins to come around... slowly, making sure "Mummy's coming with you," and asking to go get cupcakes and ice-cream after school.

Sigh.

While in the car, she demonstrates her astounding sales skills, utilizing the "assumptive close" in sentences like: "Going home now, yeah, yeah," while nodding her head emphatically and "Go the other way now Mummy. Go home," or "Going to Nanny's house now? Yeah."

All of this and when you walk through the classroom door?

It all stops. She walks away to her teacher and almost forgets to say goodbye. Not a sob or scream to be heard.

WTH!?

When you pick her up she's as happy as a clam. "MY Mummy and MY Daddy!" she squeals, arms up in the air and running toward us, and then reminds us to "Sign me out, Mummy!" before we leave. (She even told me I was looking for her name in the wrong binder this morning. "No Mummy, THAT one!")

On the way home she happily chatters about her day and is in THE BEST MOOD EVER.

And yet, we wake up the next morning and go through the same process.

I know it's just a period of change and adjustment but she never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes she leaves me pleasantly surprised and other times I'm left scratching my head in bemusement.

Parenthood!

Yesterday she had her very first school photo. We don't get to see them for a few weeks so I'm not sure how they came out but I'm DYING to view them. Knowing how hard it is to get her to look at MY camera or stand still, I can only imagine how difficult it would be to have her perform the archetypal "chin on hand/head-tilt" pose the photography studio advertises on their flyer.

Of course, no matter what it looks like, I'll buy it. I'm a sucker that way.

Daisy's first day of pre-school

Today was Daisy's first ever day at Whispering Oak Montessori Academy.



In typical "me" fashion, I was not at all worried. In fact, I was excited. The things she would learn! The opportunities to socialize! The sense of independence she would gain!

This is what I envision my job as a mother to be: to teach her to be an independent soul.

So, while everyone else's stomach was churning, I was full of eager anticipation.

As I anticipated, she did great. Of course, she got cold-feet at the last minute and claimed that she didn't want to go but, once we got into the classroom, she walked off to play with toys and pretty much barely noticed our departure,

Hubby and I took the day off, in anticipation of overwhelming emotions. They didn't come. Instead we went for breakfast and shopped for a new DVD player.

And then it came time to pick her up.

Gawd, I was NOT ready for that.

We saw her walking around in the outside play area for toddlers. Her face was sullen, she looked up at me with sulky eyes, kicking  dirt around with her feet. Her face did not light up at my arrival. She was actually mad/disappointed in me. {Gulp}

Turns out, she had been watching parents pick their 1/2 day kids up since noon and was beginning to doubt my return.

When she finally walked over to me and I picked her up, she wrapped herself around me, arms and legs squeezing tight, head resting on my shoulder, and shaking with the last ebbs of a held-back sob.

I almost lost it. I wasn't ready for the pick-up to be more emotional than the drop-off.

"Mummy came to see you!" she exclaimed, typically mixing her pronouns. God, she really thought I might not come and get her? The internal anguish set in.

And then, as we were walking with the teacher, hearing about her day and picking up her stuff, she said, ever-so-quietly to me, through shuddering breaths: "Had a great time, Mumma."

Damn, this kid is a killer. She'd had a great day but had been worried that we were not coming to get her and now was trying to hold back tears that we had arrived to pick her up.

I. LOVE. HER.

So, it turns out that she did have a pretty good day, only getting upset a couple of times, and - get this - she even napped for more than hour! Something I was convinced would never happen in a group setting.

As I said in a previous post. She continues to surprise me in new ways every day.

2 year stats

Peanut!

23.4lbs | 5-10%

32" |  5-10%

Yep, we have officially stopped tracking percentiles around here. The doctor didn't even bother to talk to us about her weight at her 2 year check-up - I had to Google a percentile calculator to find out.

It was clear from her behavior in the doctor's office today that she is just fine. She ran around like a lunatic, admired herself repeatedly in the mirror on the back of the door, and generally demonstrated her "two-ness". The doctor said she is smart and healthy and crazy.

Yeah, tell me something I DIDN'T know.

Tomorrow... our first day at pre-school. Wish us luck!

A love letter to my 2 year old

Dear Daisy,

Yesterday you turned two years old and, as I will do probably every year at this time until the day I die, I went back to the photos of you and I just after you were born, snuggled up together on that hospital bed. Time has flown so quickly and yet it seems impossible that there was ever a life before you.

Instead of throwing a lavish party this year, we went to Gilroy Gardens Theme Park – a theme park especially for toddlers and young children. Of course, it was my idea to make you sit in a car for three hours each way, without knowing if you would even go on any of the rides. Especially given your rather fearful streak recently – you freak out at moving cars in parking lots – the odds didn’t look good. But, as I will always try to do for you, I wanted to give you the chance to make up your own mind, not be held-back by my fear of what might happen.

Of course, I was secretly (ok, not so secretly) hoping that you would love it. You see, as you’ll learn as you start to get older, your mother LOVES theme parks and rides; in fact, the scarier the better. (I’m the same way about movies too – watch out!) So your Nan, Grandad, and Dad knew (although they never said out loud) that there was a lot riding on your big day. Would you be a companion to your mother’s thrill-seeking shenanigans or would you stand on the sidelines and roll your eyes at me?

Recently, you have been a bit clingy, so I had reason for concern. I don’t do well with clingy – sorry, I love you but it makes me want to hyperventilate (or drink wine, maybe both some days). There’s not enough time or money to psychoanalyze just why, besides I’d rather spend the $$ on you. You’ve also been a little bit of a scaredy-cat. You opened a book on the morning of your birthday and practically threw it across the room because you were scared of the snail in it.  (Of course, I missed the irony in the fact that I still do the same thing with snakes.)

In all honesty, if I took recent evidence alone, going to a theme park sounded like the WORST idea EVER.

Yet, as you have done consistently since the day you popped out (a girl, not the anticipated boy) you surprised me.  You ran right up to the first ride – a car ride you would need to ride on solo – let me strap you in, didn’t blink an eyelid as I walked away from you, waited patiently (yes YOU, patiently – imagine that!) for the ride to start, sat still all the way through (gasp!), and jumped off only to run right into the line for the next ride.

I’ll tell you now, I fought back tears watching you ride around in circles on that little car. It seems stupid and a little shallow, perhaps, given the many achievements in your short life already, but I was so proud of you at that moment. You were so brave and grown-up. I had to pick up my camera and start snapping or I would have bawled my eyes out.

The whole day kind of went like that. What I thought would be a 2-hour visit, max, turned into a five hour stay, with you waiting patiently in line for the next ride and jumping feet-first into every new experience we threw at you. You were fun and funny, brave and beautiful and I had THE BEST time hanging out with you. There couldn’t have been a better day to encompass everything I love about who you are.

Daisy, you are everything I ever wished for in a daughter and so much more that I didn’t know to even ask for.  You are smart and inquisitive, goofy and silly, energetic and enthusiastic, loving and gentle, independent and willful, all wrapped into your small 24lbs (barely) frame. So small and yet so powerful; full of personality and potential.

As you will no-doubt read when I turn these blog entries into printed diaries some day soon, I did not exactly enter or embrace motherhood with open arms. I was scared of losing myself to the role of mother, reluctant to change a fun and selfish life, and full of determination to be as little impacted as possible by my new child.

I was an idiot.

There’s not a plane ride or happy hour in the world that could replace the feeling of watching you go in circles on that little yellow car. In fact, no trip would be perfect any more without you to share it, and no happy hour enjoyable if I couldn’t come home to kiss your peachy-cheeks.

Happy 2^nd Birthday, Daisy Margaret. I look forward to you surprising me on many more great adventures this year.

Fore more birthday fun photos, click here