We haven’t been sleeping very well over here as Shepherd has either night terrors, or a mean growth spurt going on.  He wakes three to four times a night and just jabbers away, shrieks, bats around.  We have to bolt up and tear in there because he and Ruby share a room — so her sleep hasn’t been too restful either.  One or two nights we have succombed to having her sleep in the guest room on another floor, but for the most part, a couple of pets on the back and some soothing tunes will help the little one back to sleep.

I was already up this morning and in the bathroom when Ruby came padding in in her footie pajamas, still half asleep.  She usually crawls in bed with Shaun and me, having awakened before everyone else.  She yawned and yammered, “Why are you up already this early?”  I said “Well, your brother was up a lot of the night and I just couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Complete with a scratch to her rear end, Archie Bunker style, Ruby cocked her hip, leaned into the cabinet, and sighed, “You’re tellin’ me.”

Pretenders, I Go To Sleep

I’m not even going to keep apologizing that I don’t write more often here. I don’t write more often here! Wish I did! Bless you!

Events of note? The political demonstration in my front yard was interesting.

I share a wall with Ben Bernanke, the Chief of the Federal Reserve. Might not have mentioned that, ever, except for that these couple hundred people already knew it, and then we were on the news. My mother called, exclaiming, “Wow, so that’s what it’s like to live in the big city,” having just watched the 11 o’clock report. So, there you have it. I’m fairly sure my little blog won’t garner it any more attention. You can probably read about what these folks wanted/need if you google around enough.

It was all very orderly and American actually. The buses arrived, they shouted and bullhorned and waved their signs, they gathered up their stuff and they left.

All that said, the event birthed another Ruby gem, when she asked “Who are all these bad people?” We explained that they weren’t bad people, they were just passionate about their message for “Mr. Ben,” and they wanted to communicate with him. Her very simple question?

“Why don’t they just call him on the phone? I was playing out there.”

Eagles, Life’s Been Good

Ruby was drawing at the table the other morning, waiting to leave for school. I was upstairs, running a bit behind with the little one. I heard, on my way down, her say to Shaun, “…and this is your penis.”

Scribble, scribble.

I didn’t want to leap over to the table to see it…but I certainly thought that was an interesting artistic choice.

They kept chatting and finishing up breakfast and Ruby finished her masterpiece. When my scanner is up and running, I will share the picture with you. It’s a keeper for sure, as well as the accompanying descriptive text.

When I was able to get hold of the drawing, Shaun handed it to me and said that I had missed more of the conversation. He pointed out the key parts of the picture (none of which are particularly identifiable), and said, “Ruby tells me my penis is also a boat.”

It has certainly taken us to some distant shores, let me tell you.

Styx, Come Sail Away

Dear Ruby,

Three years ago today you were very kind to me and came into this world with limited physical fanfare. You joined Shaun and me in our little house and immediately made us a family. I can’t believe it’s been three calendar years since that day. At moments it seems like I have always known you, and at others I think “Who are you?” and can’t believe you’ve been here all this time. I learn a little bit more about you each day, and each day you teach me a little more about myself.

Your father and I have learned that we are not the most patient people. Every night we coach each other about a missed opportunity to praise you, or a strong word flung around in a weak moment, or a split second when we pulled you too hard or moved you along too quickly. We try not to be in a hurry, to enjoy every minute with you, but some days the world works against us.

This weekend, at your birthday party, adults and kids alike were taken in by your spirit. It rained like gangbusters, but that didn’t stop you from welcoming every one, throwing your wet little body into their arms, and thanking them for making you feel special. You shared your cake (although you did “assign” pieces), you shared your toys, you shared your enthusiasm for life. I know a lot of us grown-ups need to be reminded of ours sometimes.

You are an amazing creature — and not because of anything we have done. That’s another lesson we have learned as new-ish parents — that you have your own marvelous design, your own personality, your own plans. We are here simply to guide you, to help you learn about choices, to love you and discover your world alongside you.

And, while you are three years old (what a big girl!), we have to remember that you are only three years old. You speak as if you were a contract negotiator for a union — with the same vocabulary as some of the brightest grown-ups I know, and with a will and determination that sometimes threatens to melt the skin off of my face. I have never before discussed the actual benefits of a lollipop (to one’s day, to one’s mood, to one’s health!) with such fervor, or had to talk someone out of going to the store naked just because it feels good. I do have to admit though, your world is an inviting one — all of us leaping around naked eating lollipops sounds just fine to me. Throw in John Malkovich, a decent Barolo, and a pack of smokes and you’ve got a perfect weekend, I say!

I know that with all your “feistiness” (so that’s teacher-speak for “she can be a real pain in the a**”), that you love your Dad and me with equal devotion, and I am so thankful for that. You are our koan, our reminder of what’s important. You bring so much light to our lives, so much depth.

Happy Birthday, Ruby. I love you.

Momma

Tanita Tikaram, Good Tradition

Recently we had a portrait session in the park — the whole family was in town and we got some great shots. I am cheating in a way, by pre-posting the next few days with some of my favorites (though no cheating my way out of the Shawn Mullins lyrics week…still going strong!). In the meantime, we are heading to the Fanning cabin for Memorial Day Weekend. It just occurred to me today that it’s a holiday weekend coming up (that’s what a newborn fog I’ve been in!) — we are lucky to have somewhere to retreat to with such short notice.

Enjoy your weekends!

Shawn Mullins, Just Like Me

I feel like I need to call Lifetime Movie Network about our morning this morning. Only, the movie they would make about our experience would not have the happy ending that ours did. I can honestly say I have not been so scared in a while, and will need to do everything possible so that this does not happen again. Nothing even remotely like it (this is the point where more seasoned parents are flicking ashes into their ashtrays, leaning back and groaning, “YYyyyeaapp, you’re just gettin started.”)

I got great sleep last night — just a combo of (I’m sure) needing the rest and meds and a new mattress (finally! A queen-size!). Recognizing the great sleep I was getting, Shaun let me stay in slumber this morning and got up early to shower. Ruby was asleep with her little fan going just next door.

The first thing I was conscious of this morning is Shaun’s voice, filled with fear, screaming Ruby’s name. I shot up and immediately grabbed my robe and lumbered into the hall and down the stairs.

Ruby the Explorer? She was OUTSIDE. Our front door. On a busy Washington, DC street. In her pajamas, pacifier and all. Going, apparently, for a walk.

I shot past Shaun (well, shlubbed) and got Ruby’s little hand (by this time she was headed back to the house having heard her father) and brought her back inside. The next ten minutes are a blur of trying to scare the shit out of her without scaring the shit out of her — wondering WHAT HAPPENED? and trying not to throw up.

I can’t even let myself (all day!) think about even the next one minute of this morning if we had not gotten down there.

There are lots of factors that led to the “security breakdown.” Shaun needed a towel, or had to go downstairs for something, and when he came back up, he didn’t shut the baby gate. In order to let me sleep, he had shut my door (normally it’s open and Ruby makes a beeline for it when she wakes up). We still don’t know why she didn’t poke her head into the bathroom, or why she didn’t come and get me. I guess the open baby gate (and ROAD) were just too inviting.

If you google mapped our house? You would see MAJOR THOROUGHFARES through our capital city. Tour buses and police cars and buses from the DC jail and commuters coming in from Maryland go whizzing down our street starting in the wee hours.

See, I can’t even type about it. I’ve been pacing all day getting the image of her little flowery pajama leg being the only thing we can see of her as we run down the street towards a crowd of people. I feel like I could just lie down and wail for the rest of the afternoon.

Alas, I am on my way to Frager’s Hardware to get about twenty of these suggested items. Or maybe just a roll of this to keep her in bed.

Sweet Heaven, what a morning.

Note: We do have a deadbolt on the door, which is up higher than I would have thought her little hands can reach. We also have a security gate on the door, which is hard for a lot of adults to open. She opened both. We checked both before bed. Kids? They watch everything.

Be careful with your wiley little ones. And hug ‘em. Hard.

Kate Bush, Running Up That Hill

Having a 29-month-old is hard. So you don’t have to do the math, that’s two and change. The dreaded TWOS that everyone talks about have just introduced themselves to us. Ruby is a lot of work — she’s all over the map. One moment she’s precious and loving, the next she has completely fallen apart and is inconsolable. Moments later? Back to loving. Or at least tolerable. Then she’s mean. Then she’s cute again. Then she’s back on the floor, kicking and screaming. Hello, nasty! Most times we just white-knuckle it into the next moment. Sometimes we lose it and make yelling or negotiating parental choices that don’t feel good seconds later. It’s all just balls-to-the-wall difficult.

This morning the beef was that she couldn’t have Babybel cheese, cottage cheese, shredded cheese, Boursin cheese, string cheese, goat cheese, cheddar cheese AND yogurt for breakfast. I tried to explain that if she ever wanted to poop again, those were probably not great choices. All together. At the same time. The key there is that I tried to explain something to her. I should have just chosen one cheese and gone with it, fingers crossed firmly behind my back. As it was, she excused herself “for some quiet time” in her room while I was thumbing through cheese options, which essentially meant “I’m going to go upstairs and scream at Daddy about cheese.”

I decided, after this episode, that I would ask Shaun to pinch hit for me, while I took Fake Ruby to the park. I occasionally like to feel like Great Mom and these outings with Fake Ruby are just the thing. I would highly recommend them to someone feeling insecure about your role in a family system. You can even borrow Fake Ruby — she gets along with everyone, and is great for one’s self esteem.

Lo and behold, we had a great time! We stopped for a coffee, and quietly drank it while watching squirrels from a park bench. Fake Ruby is great company — she listens! She doesn’t crawl out of the stroller in the middle of the street! She can even go out without her coat on (read: no toddler ever wants to wear a coat, but Fake Ruby is impervious to weather. Perfect!)

On the see-saw, we laughed and laughed. I told great jokes. She shrieked “I love you Momma!” with every dive and soar. She told everyone at the park how pretty I was, and how she was going to grow up and be happy. And, of course, she said “grow up and be happy” in four languages, including American Sign. She’s brilliant! And so nice.

Just when I was settling in though, a dark cloud passed over Fake Ruby, not unlike the ones that plague Real Ruby every 7.5 minutes. She threw the coffee cup on the ground, and turned away from me in a huff. She didn’t want to push the stroller, didn’t want to go on the swings, didn’t want to talk to any of the other kids at the park. She didn’t, in fact, want to move. Big money to the person who guesses first what we had to go home for.

I’ll try again with both of them after nap time. Armed with cheese.

Peter, Paul and Mary, Going to the Zoo

Ahhh, memories. I think Shaun would tell you that some of his favorites from our dating life were the ones in which I did this while we were out:

Hot, I say.

Ruby definitely has a “take me to your leader” quality about her — she needs to know who’s in charge, and how many times she’s going to have to ask for Babybel cheese before she can take over the planet (I imagine even grizzled world leaders erode under the pressure of a toddler who wants something).

I love her milder moments too, though. We have been working hard on her expressions of frustration at school — aiming more for talking about it than kicking ass. This morning at drop-off I asked her what kind of day she was going to have. She thought about it for a minute…

“Soft and warm,” she said.

And every part of me, including my pelvis, dissolved into a delicious comforting Mom-stew.

Now if I could just get up the stairs to the loo.

Paula Cole, Be Somebody

Note to self: When getting a toddler haircut, don’t get it from a guy who has a two-year-old BOY at home.

Took Ruby to get a new ‘do — I said “I love her curls, I just want it to be shorter all over, so I won’t have to do the pigtails to keep it out of her face.” That, to me, means LEAVE THE CURLS, just make it a little shorter all over. Perhaps I should have said JUST THAT.

By the time I realized what was going on — it was too late. The hair had hit the floor and he had to finish.

Meet our little Sandy Duncan:

I don’t argue that hers is not an incredibly cute face, and SHE likes her haircut, which is the most important thing. My sister just had to pick me up off the floor to get me out of the salon.

Have a good weekend, kittens. We are off to the mountains until Sunday. Hopefully, the posts I have set up will magically appear so I don’t get mercilessly disqualified from NaBloPoMo.

Peter Pan soundtrack, You Can Fly! You Can Fly! You Can Fly!

We’ve had it a little rough over here the last few days. Turns out Miss Ruby is a bit of a bad-ass at school — and has been fixin’ other kids’ wagons, as it were. We had heard she needed to “wear her listening ears” more often, and that she makes it very plain when she wants something, but this week we actually got the call, the one where you have to meet with people and get talking-tos and feel the shame creeping up your cheeks upon hearing the reports.

Ruby pushed another kid down Eight. Concrete. Stairs. She didn’t want to share Miss Tracy (they were sitting outside on the stairs waiting for parents to arrive at the end of the day), so when another little kid (we’ll call him Vic[tim]) came up to join in their patty-cake fun, she just hauled off and bowled him over. When I picked her up that day, it was chaos — she and Vic were both inconsolable, and I thought she was just being empathic because he fell down. The teachers make a great effort to not point fingers — so this was the story they originally told me because Vic’s mother was also there. I didn’t learn that Ruby was actually responsible for the fall until the next day.

As you can imagine, we are on a massive PR campaign now to talk about not pushing and using words when you are frustrated and being nice to your friends and sharing adult time and attention.

Shaun decided that it was probably a good idea to stop watching Elite Cage Fighting with her on Saturday mornings. Bummer — it goes so nicely with snuggling and flapjacks!

Here is a photo of Ruby’s sweet side — handing out candy at my parents’ house Halloween night.

Don’t be fooled, though, my people.

“You lookin’ at me?”

Pray for us.

Jim Croce, Don’t Mess Around With Jim