Two Cute Stories Plus Three

Warning: This post talks about "private parts." You have been warned.

She's laying on the couch, no diaper, legs splayed open.

Touching her private parts she says, "Owie mommy. Owie mommy." There is no diaper rash,  no redness, nothing that I can really see. But she insists. "Owie mommy. Owie mommy."

Being the touchy-feely mommy that I am, "owie mommy" always gets the same response and so she says:

"Kiss it mommy. Kiss it mommy."

I start laughing. "I can't kiss it Annie. You're fine sweetie. OH! Look! Yo Gabba is on!"

I try distraction.

"Kiiiiisssss it mommy."

I kind of panic. I am not thinking clearly enough to do what my mom later told me to do- which is kiss my fingers, and then place them on her owie. Nope. I'm just thinking "how do I explain to her why I can't kiss it." And there I am really trying to explain to her why I cannot kiss her private-part-owie.

My own steadfast teaching, that kissing makes everything better, backfires. In a rage she sits up and puts her hands on my cheeks and screams:

"KISS IT MOOOOOOMMMMMYYYYY. KISS IT. KISS IT. PLEASE."

I've never seen her so mad at me. She starts crying. And there I sit, a blubbering idiot, with fearful eyes, my head between her legs- and her hands grabbing my face- telling her things like, "Nobody is allowed to kiss your private parts. Never!" and "One day this story will be really embarrassing, you'll be really glad I didn't do it" and "I'm so sorry you have an owie, that's the kind of owie that only a diaper can kiss better, let the diaper kiss it!"

What? What in the world is wrong with me?

Mom moment failure.

***

I'm cooking dinner and she is in the living room watching Nick Jr. and playing with her dolls. The little guy on TV tells her to name the things that she sees on the beach and I hear her: Sand. And water. And birdies. And fishies. And apple pet.

Apple pet? I stop stirring. She says it again. Apple pet. What in the world is an apple pet?

I walk in the room and there on the center of the screen is a bright red crab scurrying across the sand. She knows lots of animals but we've never talked about a crab. She sees his bright red body and thinks he's an apple... that has grown legs and a mouth... therefore...

he is an apple pet.

Brilliant little child she is.

Every time we see the crab now I say, "OH! apple pet!"

She looks at me impatiently, "No mommy. It's a crab!"

***

I am strapping her into her car seat last week, when she grabs my face in her hands...

"I think you're CUTE mommy!"

***

During her first thunderstorm last week we are explaining that the big booms and bolts of lightning are supposed to happen during a rain storm. That means the sky is making lots of rain to feed the trees and plants and that's a good thing. That means they are doing a good job.

Well, anytime you do a "good job" at our house, I do a victory dance and then I yell "HOORAY for Annie!!!" Most of our days are spent screaming, dancing, painting, and yelling hooray while simultaneously kissing things. So as the thunder went off, she realized it was doing what it was supposed to do, which meant it was doing a good job.

For the better part of an hour she sat in front of her window watching the lighting and thunder, screaming and dancing with her hands above her head, "Hooray thunder! hooray thunder! Hooooooraaaaayyyy thunder!"

***

As I tucked her into bed late last night I told her, "Sleep well doodle bug! In the morning we will have cinnamon toast and yogurt."

She sits straight up, eyes closed because she is mostly asleep, and pulls her pacifier out of her mouth.

"No! Bacon. And Eggs. And Pancakes. And waffles."

She lays back down and I don't hear a peep from her until this morning at 9:00 a.m.

"I awake mommy. I need cimamamon toast and yogurt mommy."

***

I love being her mom.

***

For more Annie pics using my new iphone app, Camera +, check out my flicker link:

jenny's photos

Monday Morning Happies

A few days ago, from another room, Annie said,  "________    _________." I froze. Did I hear her right? Did she really just say that? I thought I heard her say it. But there was no way.  Right? I mean she's not even two years old yet.

Where would she have heard that? Who taught her that? Oh. My. Gosh.

Surely not.

Lord, surely my child didn't just say  "_________   _________."

Not my child. Not at this age. Not from these two parents did this child spring...

But she said it again. And again. And again. And I couldn't make it stop.

I sat- thinking in the living room- of all the things in this world that my child has decided to talk about, has she really landed on this? And what does this say about her as a person? I mean, what will she grow up to be and do? Will this last well into her adolescent years?  Does this have bearing on who she will become?

I walked into the restroom where she was staring at her daddy's Rolling Stone magazine...

I shot this footage.

My sweet-proper-graceful-mother-n-law, later confessed.

She slipped, she admitted. She didn't realize Annie's memory was so strong. She was just trying to distract her.

The Words my Child Said...

On Domestication...

Dear Becky... Thank you for inquiring as to my whereabouts!

I am living in a strange and foreign land.

I have a real live toilet (not a nasty tour-bus toilet). My daughter has a semi-schedule. And I have slept in my own bed more in the last three months than I have in two years straight. In this strange land, I have friends that I actually share meals with, and I am realizing this is a lot more sweet than sharing text messages. In this land, I cook my own meals; there is no maid to make the bed and clean the bathroom while I'm away for the afternoon. I clean baseboards, teach my daughter how to spell her name, and I touch chicken guts more times during a week than anyone should ever have to do.

In this land of suburbia, I am learning a new normal. And when my heart aches to get on an airplane or I worry about losing my frequent flyer status; I crave to sleep in a Hilton bed or I miss being on stage telling my stories and singing my heart out; I remember, this will not always be my normal. This is just normal for now.

And for now, I am trying to fall head-0ver-heels into this new phase of life because it is a gift to be here. To be now. To be all that I can be for my daughter and my husband. For so long, I have given so much of myself to so many people that it seems foreign to pour all of that into a small circle of people. But God is showing me, in a multitude of ways, the beauty of sewing seeds into my family during this time in our lives.

I admit, I have days where I fight it. Days where I want to crawl back into my tour-bus bunk bed and get back to the life I was once living. But then I see Annie look at a bug. Nose to nose with a little bug. And her eyes light up and she says, "Oh my goodness! Buggy is sleeping!"

I don't have the heart to tell her that buggy is as dead as a doornail.

Right now I am taking the time and space to pour myself into her, Ryan, my family, my friends, and my church. Oh yeah, and myself. Having the gift of  being still, present, and available to the ones I love the most is amazing. So I am trying to fight my own selfishness; and I am embracing domesticity. For a little while, I will put my own dreams on hold while I teach my daughter and watch her explore the world. And in a little while- when she wanders the hall of her kindergarten- and I find myself back to singing, writing, and traveling- I will wonder how she grew up so fast and I will ache for these days once more.

I have missed writing and missed my sweet blog family that has joined me here on my journey the last few years. Now that we have established a "new normal" I will get back to writing out the stories that make this life great. And I hope you will join me once again...

Here are some pictures of my journey into domesticity.

This kid is only smiling because she is not the one who is actually cooking.

In the land of domesticity, I made my first ever chicken. I had to pull its stomach guts out and that was disgusting.

The end product was beautiful. And, in my attempt to be a real Marth Stewart, I took the carcass and made my own chicken stock. Wow. I never thoought I would utter those words.

My favorite cooking attempt has been a series of homemade muffins. I like watching Annie press her face to the oven to watch them "grow."

There is the "sleeping" buggy. No, she is not eating it. But she likes to get nose to nose with buggies and talk to them.

Some things are changing. In fact, some days I feel like my whole world is changing. But if you find yourself in the midst of change like me, remember, some things never change.

Like my love for taking pictures of clouds.

Clouds. They are always moving and reshaping. But ultimately, they do not change. They always exist. Always have. Always will. Sometimes they just look different. Sometimes they take on a new normal. Sometimes we take on a new normal.

Here's to living IN the new normal...