A Couple of Mama Firsts

Wednesday was my first (and, sadly, probably last) day volunteering at Sarah's school.  She was excited to have me there, as were the other kids.  What a wonderful age 4 is!  I was impressed that she went about her business without being too distracted by my presence.  Every 10 minutes or so, she would come over to ask, "How are you doing, Mom?"  It was fun to watch her interact with the other kids and her teacher.

The class happily posed for a group shot for me, then found their spots for the morning meeting.

The kids had to go up and write the number 3 on the paper.  The first drew it backwards, and each one after that seemed to copy it.  I sat in the back silently pulling for Sarah to break the streak, and she did!  She made a beautiful, forward 3.

After morning meeting, they had to pick partners and dance to "Hello Neighbor."  Sarah chose her friend, "Adam Bell." [There are two "Adams" in the class, and Sarah often talks about playing with "Adam Bell."] She sings this song at home, and Don and I have struggled to understand the line where she shimmies. The closest we could get was "bugging on down," and she swore that was right. Turns out, it's "boogey on down." Of course -- we should have gotten that.

Next, it was time for "centers," where the kids get to choose what activities they do and circulate among stations at their discretion.  Each has a clothes pin with his/her name on it, and each station has a sign with a certain number of dots, indicating how many kids can be there at once.  The kids clip their clothes pins on the dots.  I was amazed at how orderly and well behaved the class was.  After only 26 days of class, the 18 kids had their routine down and conducted themselves with very few disagreements. 

I told Sarah that I would be leaving after "centers," so that she wouldn't be caught off-guard.  The moment her teacher announced the next activity, she found her place on the carpet and sternly told me to leave.  I stopped to chat with the teacher for a minute, and she repeated, "Go, Mom, go."  I talked her into one more shot of her and her teacher, then took my leave.

Thursday afternoon was my first parent-teacher conference.  Sarah got a glowing report, of course.  Her teacher gushed about how sweet, bright, and cooperative she is, and how she comforts the other kids when they're upset about something.  Art is her favorite "center," and she also loves to play with the blocks and trucks (you go, girl!).  She has adjusted to school beautifully, and I couldn't be prouder of her. 

Paybacks...Well, You Know

Last week, when I shared the saga of Sarah and 4K with my mom and said I thought we were making progress, she said, "Oh, wait until Monday.  You were fine the first week of kindergarten, but the next Monday, I had to pry your hands off me as the bus doors closed."  Thanks for the pep talk, Mom.

Well, she was right (darn it!).  While Thursday went pretty well -- Sarah started to cry softly as I left the room, but I bolted, and she arrived home happy as ever at lunch time -- yesterday was awful.

Sarah cried about school every day of her long weekend, usually for about five minutes after lunch.  Sunday night, she started getting upset at bedtime, but I managed to redirect the conversation, and she fell asleep quickly.  At 3:30 yesterday morning, though, she was awake worried about school.  After I comforted her, she stayed in her bed for a bit but then came into the little bed in our room.  While she was quiet, I don't think she slept much.

At 5:45, she called to me, and I brought her into our bed to cuddle.  She promptly fell asleep.  Of course, I had to wake her 45 minutes later for school, and she wasn't happy.  I coaxed her into getting dressed (in school clothes, even), and she had warm milk while I read her Mother Goose.  She was subdued but okay during breakfast, and on the drive to school.

Once we got in the room, though, she grabbed my hand and started crying.  The paraeducator came over and tried to occupy her, but she leapt into my arms and started sobbing.  The para started to take her from me, but I told her no.  That was probably a mistake, but I just couldn't do it at that point.

I tried talking to Sarah and negotiating my departure, but she'd have none of it.  I took her to the hall, and we sat for a bit, while she cried and I tried not to.  I was so torn about what to do.  I knew what "everyone" said, but I've ignored "everyone's" advice from the beginning, and I haven't regretted it.  I racked my brain for a way to smooth the transition, but Sarah was wailing by then, and I knew I had two choices: peel her off me and leave or take her home and lose all the ground we'd gained, and possibly more.

The teacher came to the door and asked what I wanted her to do.  Sarah started screaming at the top of her lungs and clutching me for dear life.  I pried her off and handed her to the teacher.  She was actually hitting the teacher!  I headed down the hall in tears myself.  After passing two teachers (who smiled sympathetically), I ducked out the nearest door and called Don.

Although he assured me I'd done the right thing, it sure didn't feel right.  I was a wreck for the next 45 minutes, until I finally called the teacher.  She said Sarah had cried for about three minutes after I left, then joined the other kids at an activity.  Her new little friends had given her hugs and pictures to make her feel better, and she was now smiling and enjoying herself.  After I hung up, I checked my email and found that the teacher had sent me an update just minutes before I called -- she is very sweet, and we're all lucky to have her as Sarah's first teacher.

When she got off the bus before lunch, Sarah was slightly more subdued than last week, but she was smiling and eager to share with me all that she'd done in school.  She proudly showed me the pictures her friends gave her and sang the song they learned.  After lunch, she went to quiet time and passed out in her chair.

In her email, Sarah's teacher asked if she had shared anything specific that she doesn't like about school.  I said she hasn't, and I think I know why.  Being at school isn't the problem; being away from home is.  I can remember feeling the same way when I started kindergarten.  I liked the kids and the activities, but I liked being home more.  I always felt as though I was missing something great at home while I was in school (this feeling popped up again during freshman year at college and, much later, whenever I traveled for work).  I am a hardcore homebody, and I think Sarah is, too.

Sarah has had the rare experience of being home with both parents all day, every day for the past three years.  She has a leisurely routine of rising whenever she wakes; drinking warm milk and reading a book with Mom while Dad makes her breakfast; eating with Mom and Dad; watching S*same Str**t; playing with Dad for a while, then sharing snack with him; then playing on her own or baking with Mom until lunch.  Who wouldn't try to hold onto that?

So, I don't think it's so much what she's being pushed toward as what she's being forced to leave behind that is upsetting Sarah right now.  She knows she's safe at school and that she will come home soon.  She just doesn't want to let go of her privileged lifestyle.

Realizing this comforts me some.  It is still heart-wrenching to see her so upset, but I can handle her being sad better than being scared.  She will adjust, and I need to stay the course and be strong. 

This morning, she woke in tears but perked up pretty quickly.  She was fine for a while at breakfast then turned blue and said she wanted Daddy to drive her to school instead of me.  I first said okay, then decided it wasn't a good idea to change horses in midstream (I suspected she was counting on Dad to be a softer touch).  When I said I'd take her, she burst into tears.

We compromised, and Dad drove both of us to school but waited in the car while I walked her in (I know what you're thinking -- too many parents!).  She sobbed along the way, then grabbed me screaming once we reached the room.  I was strong, though.  I pried her off right away, kissed her, handed her to the teacher, and walked out.

I didn't worry quite so much this morning, and she arrived home happy and chatty.  The note from the teacher said she had stopped crying right after I left and was cheery all morning.  There was little angst about school this afternoon and evening, and no tears!  She started to fret at bedtime, but I joked around with her, and she moved on.  She called me back once to clarify that she won't go to school next summer, then she was quiet.

I think she's starting to accept her new reality, and I don't think she's even that unhappy about it anymore.  She just doesn't want to admit it yet.  She likes to be in control, and she's trying to figure out how to make going to school look like her idea.  I have little doubt she will eventually, and I'll happily play along.

4K, Act II

Never count Sarah out in the drama department.  After a hugely successful first day at school, she turned cold on the idea last night. 

She gets to play on the iP*d before dinner each night and is sometimes reluctant to turn it off when asked.  The rule is, if she doesn't turn it off when asked, she doesn't get to play it the next night.  Yesterday, she dragged her feet, so I said, "What do you think will happen if you don't turn it off now?"  She replied, "I won't play the iP*d tomorrow, and I'm not going to school, either!"  Uh-oh.

This was no idle threat.  She repeated her intention all through dinner.  I first tried to act impartial about it, hoping my indifference would quash her rebellion.  Then, I told her I'd be sad if she didn't go, because she'd miss so much fun.  She said, "Don't be sad; mind your own business" (which, I have to admit, is a good point -- soon, I'll be telling her not to worry about what other people think).

I managed to table the discussion until this morning, when I woke her.  She sat up and asked, "What are we doing today?"  When I said, "You're going to school," she said, "No, I'm not!" and burst into tears.  I got into bed with her and tried to comfort her, to no avail.  She pleaded with me, and I wanted so badly to give in and let her stay home, but I stood my ground.  It was the toughest moment of my short parenting career.

After more tears and screaming (hers, not mine, thank goodness), I finally asked if she wanted me to drive her to school, instead of riding the bus.  This seemed to turn the tide.  She asked me to stay with her, too, and I said I'd stay in the back of the room for five minutes while she got settled, then give her a kiss and leave.  She grudgingly agreed.

She refused to put on her good clothes and, instead, emerged from her room in a mismatched outfit of "farm clothes."  I told her she could wear farm clothes, but not those particular ones, and convinced her to put on the most presentable duds she had.  Sure, today was photo day, but I'm learning to choose my battles (and I have gorgeous shots from her session last month).

I gave her the old "warm milk in a sippy cup" as a peace offering, and she seemed to perk up during breakfast ("I'm a little bit happy now, Mom.").  I drove her to school and followed our agreed-upon plan.  As I waited in the back of the room, I noted that most of the other little girls were dressed up, with bows and curls in their hair; one even wore dangly earrings.  Sarah didn't seem to notice.  I think she has the "not caring what others think" thing down.  If she could only hold onto it as she ages.

At the appointed time, I gave her a quick kiss and left, with no objections.  She arrived home in the same mood as yesterday -- slightly uneasy, but with a smile on her face.  She announced that she had chocolate milk for snack again and wondered once more at my joy in seeing her.  She asked if she's going back tomorrow and said she wants me to drive her again.  Then, she ate lunch and headed to quiet time.  Let's hope that's the end of the discussion for today.  Tomorrow, Act III.

She Went, She Saw, She Conquered 4K

Sarah is officially a schoolgirl!  And she made the transition with very little drama or fanfare.

Last night at dinner, she asked over and over, "Why I need to go to school, Mom?"  I came up with as many fun, exciting reasons as I could, but she still acted unconvinced.  In the tub, she announced, "I'm not going to get on the bus, Mom."  Trying to appear unfazed, I said, "Oh, you don't want to have any fun, then?"  She smiled and said, "I was just kidding!"  Hardy, har, har....

Once in bed, she seemed fine and was quiet for quite a while after lights out, leading me to believe she'd fallen asleep quickly.  Then, she called me in to ask some silly question, which is routine and allowed once.  When she summoned the fourth time (I was cutting her some slack), I could see the grim look on her face and asked if she wanted me to lie with her while she went to sleep.  We cuddled, and I sang "Rock-a-Bye Baby," accompanied by her pull-string bunny, for a while.  Then she said it was enough (which I tried not to take personally) and drifted off to sleep.

I expected to hear from her again during the night, but she was quiet, and I had to wake her at 6:20.  She rose cheerily enough, but soon said her head didn't want to go to school.  She elaborated that her forehead didn't want to go and pulled her bangs up for me to feel.  Trying to fake illness at four?  She IS precocious.  I assured her she didn't have a fever, and we moved on.

She has quite a morning routine, and I've been working to shorten it for a few weeks now.  Until she turned four, she still drank warm milk in a sippy cup in my lap before breakfast; now that's a luxury for non-school days.  She still insists on reading a book before eating, though, so we chose a short one, then proceeded to breakfast.

She was partway through her meal, when the bus went by (lucky for us, there are no through-streets in our neighborhood, and the driver agreed to pick her up on the way back out) -- about 10 minutes earlier than expected.  This sent us both into a bit of a tizzy, but turned out to be good, I think, because there wasn't much time for last-minute nerves.  She brushed her teeth, and we headed out to wait at the end of the driveway.

When the bus pulled up, she marched across the street holding my hand, climbed up the big steps, and took a seat in the front, where an older girl greeted her.  A quick kiss, and she was on her way.  I managed to hold back tears long enough to give a cheery wave and turn toward the house.  Then, it was hopeless.  I've never heard such silence as in our house this morning (did I mention Don's gone fishing all week?).

I busied myself with housecleaning (didn't dare go for a walk, in case I got a call from the school) and tried not to think too much about what might be happening a few miles away.  My cell phone rang mid-morning, stopping my heart, but, of course, it was nothing.

At 11:00, when school ended, I took my tea and headed out to the front step to await Sarah's triumphant return.  By 11:25, I was convinced she had been so traumatized by the initial bus ride that she had refused to re-board to come home.  Then, I spotted the little yellow bus on the highway and watched it turn down our road.  It pulled right into our driveway and discharged one happy, proud little girl.

As I gushed and asked about her day, Sarah kept saying, "Why are you so happy to see me, Mom?" as if the whole thing was no big deal.  She slowly disclosed details, such as having chocolate milk for snack (probably the third time she's ever had it) and learning the playground rules.  The only time she showed much emotion was when I mentioned returning tomorrow.  "You mean I'm going back?" she said.  Ahhh, I guess we didn't go over that part.

Ready to go (mostly)

A sight for my sore eyes

Mission accomplished!

Giving in to a well earned nap

Mother's Day III

My third Mother's Day, and the most enjoyable yet.  Sarah was super excited to give me my card (which she addressed and signed herself) and gifts -- Ghirardelli dark chocolate (heavenly), coffee gift certificate (Mama loves her mochas), and Bossypants by Tina Fey (hmmm, I wonder if the title has any relevance). 

After church, we joined our friends Mary Ann, Martin, and Emmett (age 21 months) for a yummy brunch.  I quite like our developing habit of spending holidays together as extended family.  We "older" parents enjoy each other's company, and Sarah and Emmett get a kick out of each other.  It's fun to watch them both change and grow.

In the afternoon, we visited one of our farmer neighbors who had a mare and week-old baby.  It was Sarah's first time seeing a foal, and she loved it.

To top things off, I received sweet cards from my mom and Emily, Omar, Sophia, and Lola (my new grand-puppy).  I'm one lucky woman and so grateful for all the love in my life.

A Big Weekend

The last few days have been busy for us, with events both big and small worth mentioning.

First, Don and I continued our new ritual of playing chess on Friday evenings.  Instead of sitting in front of the TV and flipping between our three public television and two old movie channels (no cable), we now nurture our middle-aged noggins with a game that he loves but hasn't played in decades and I attempted in high school but never mastered.  This was our second week, and I awarded myself "Most Improved" since I was able to survive a full hour before he captured my king.

Saturday morning, we attended our first E*ster egg h*nt of the year.  Unfortunately, the balmy weather we enjoyed a couple of weeks ago was long gone, and hats and mittens were the order of the day.  Sarah was super excited and had a blast.  She was still in the 0-3 age group, so she had a distinct advantage this year.  After collecting about a dozen, she decided to leave the rest for the other kids.  She was pleased with her haul of T**tsie rolls, chocolate eggs, and a tattoo.  When we got home, she rushed to the bathroom to apply the tattoo all by herself.

Saturday was also "Date Night" for Mom and Dad.  Sarah adores her babysitter and was at least as excited as we were.  I decided it was time to try having Kelsey put Sarah to bed.  I wasn't optimistic it would work, but I figured we had to start somewhere, and just having her ready for bed when we returned would be nice.

Don and I weren't enthused about our movie options but decided to give The H*nger G*mes a try, since it's gotten so much hype.  We figured, if nothing else, we'd be up on pop culture for a week or so.  We were pleasantly surprised and really enjoyed the movie, despite its dark premise.  The largely teenaged audience must have liked it, as well, as they were silent throughout.

After dinner at our favorite pizza place, we headed home to see how the big experiment had gone.  When the house appeared dark as we approached, I figured Sarah had kept Kelsey reading books in her room, which is on the back side of the house.  When we entered, however, Kelsey was sitting quietly in the living room, and Sarah was sound asleep!  Kelsey said she turned out the lights, and Sarah didn't make a peep.  That girl is full of surprises these days.

I feel as though a whole new world has opened to us.  We can actually stay out later than 8:00 if we want.  Not that we're night owls or social butterflies, but we do get invited to a party every year or so, and now we can stay as long as we want.  The upside for Kelsey is that she no longer has to entertain Sarah for five or six hours when we go out.  We can do "dinner and a movie" in that order, and Kelsey can spend half her shift relaxing.  The icing on the cake is that Kelsey just got her driver's license, so we don't even have to drive her home.  As long as she can make time for us once a month, we've got it made.

As if one milestone wasn't enough, Sarah had another surprise in store Sunday morning in church.  During the service, the minister spends a few minutes talking with the kids in the front of the church.  Sarah has always insisted that I come with her and sit in the front row, while she sits on the step with the other kids.  Yesterday, when the time came, she turned to me and said, "Mom, some day I'll just go up and see Pastor Betsy by myself, and you can sit with Daddy."  I said, "Do you want to try it today?" and she said, "Okay" and trotted down the aisle. 

As luck would have it, since it was P*lm Sunday, there more kids in church than usual, and Sarah couldn't find a place to sit when she got up front.  She ran back to me and said, "Where do I sit?"  I escorted her back up, got her situated, and decided to stay, just in case she lost her nerve.  Instead of listening to the minister, she spent the whole time telling me, in a stage whisper, to go back to my seat.  Once she sets her mind to something.... 

Watching Sarah march away from me was one of my proudest moments so far.  It's taken so long for her to feel safe in the world, and I am elated for her.  I'm not alone.  During coffee time, the minister and other members of the congregation shared their joy, as well (Sarah has a broad fan base).  I no longer fear 4K this fall.  It will be a big step, but I feel confident now that Sarah will be able to handle it just as every other four-year-old does.  What a relief.

After lunch, Sarah decided to take a nap during quiet time (her act of bravery wore her out).  When she got up, she was ready to help Mom and Dad spread bark mulch on the flower gardens.  She is such a hard worker!

All in all, a banner weekend for our little family.  This week holds an Easter party with our playgroup, another egg hunt, and the Big Day itself.  Next week, Sarah and I head to M*ssachusetts to visit my family.  The winter doldrums are definitely behind us!

Keeping Up with Sarah (It's Not Easy)

Sarah has changed so much in the last few months, and I've been delinquent in chronicling it.  It's time to try to catch up....

Her confidence has grown tremendously.  When we're out and about, she now responds when people ask her questions, and sometimes even initiates conversations.  She is comfortable staying in one spot while I go to the other side of the room.  She's happy to stay in Sunday School without me, and the teacher says she raises her hand and answers questions.  This may not sound impressive for most kids her age, but it's monumental progress for Sarah.

She's become much more physical and loves to jump, dance, kick, and run.  She's tall and slim and quite athletic -- it's hard to believe she was a chubby baby who couldn't sit up when she arrived home.  She can kick her foot as high as her head (I call her my little Rockette) and do the splits.  She's been practicing drop-kicking a ball and manages to do it sometimes.  She loves to dance to "Mom's music" (Ad*le's 21).  One of her favorite activities is hiking with Mom and Dad at our local state park.  She is constantly saying, "Mom, watch this" and showing me her physical prowess.

Her language is developing rapidly.  I've been encouraging her to pronounce words more clearly (she often skips the "s" at the beginning and has a hard time with "th"), and she now corrects herself.  She loves to figure out what letter words start with ("Mom, what letter does egg start with?"  "I don't know, Sarah, what do you think?"  "E -- egg, elephant, Elmo.").  Like all kids her age, she comes up with some cute stuff:

• "A little bit, but not too much." 
• "Oh, my goodness, that's a big ice cream cone!" 
• "I made Mommy and Daddy's bed -- I'm a big helper."
• While looking at a map of Wisconsin: "Where does home live again?"
• When bored: "What I should do, Mom?"
• Snuggling in bed with Mom and Dad: "I'm all cozy with my family."
• "I love this outfit -- it's almost pink, but it's not almost pink."
• "I'm not tired. I will take a nap, but I won't close my eyes."
• "This is a crazy lunch!"
• "Mom, your music is pretty cool." (I'll remind her of this one when she's a teenager.)
• At bedtime: Mom -- "Good night, sweet girl." Sarah -- "Good night, sweet woman."
• Playing in her kitchen:  "I will make something delicious for you."
• "It's nice to meet you, Mom."
• "...if'n you want...."
• "Okay by me."

Sarah loves Mother Goose and has most of the rhymes memorized (she recites them as she falls asleep).  Her favorite story books these days are If You Give a M**se a M*ffin, the Biscuit series, and a set of very old S*same Street books we borrow from the library that talk about different careers (she says she wants to be a police officer, a firefighter, and a veterinarian when she grows up).  She also enjoys reading natural history field guides (including N*rth D*kota Plants, a highly technical dichotomous key) and dictionaries (see below). 

Temperament-wise, she is pretty easy-going these days (downright laid-back compared to a year ago).  She still wants her way, but many times she will acquiesce, ending the discussion with, "Okay, fine."  She's become a bit sassy, which Dad has more patience for than Mom (no surprise there), but, for the most part, she's a joy to be around.  She loves to cuddle and gives great, smacky kisses.  She is conscientious and polite.

She gave up naps almost a year ago, but we've continued with quiet time after lunch.  It took a little getting used to, but now she trots down the hall happily and spends an hour in her room, usually listening to music on her boombox or looking through books (she loves the family picture books I make on Sh*tterfly).  Very rarely, she will crawl into bed on her own and fall asleep.

Sarah has always been one for routine, and she's developed her own unusual rituals.  After she gets ready for bed in the bathroom each night, we return to her room, where I sit in the rocker and she climbs up on her bed. She then calls Dad to say goodnight. When he appears in the doorway, she jumps from bed and does an original dance/martial arts routine over to kiss him goodnight. She then repeats it over to me and crawls into my lap for a story. She comes up with something new every night.

Sarah watches S*same Street downstairs in the rec room each morning.  She spreads out the fleece blanket on the couch and arranges two dictionaries she carted down from upstairs (a full-size W*bster's and a paperback crossword puzzle edition) in front of her.  She then pages through the books while watching her S*same Street friends.  Every day, she acts exasperated when she sees that Mom and Dad messed up her stuff the night before.

With all the warm weather we've had, the plants outside are growing like crazy, including, of course, dandelions.  I introduced Sarah to dandelion digging last year, but she was still a little young to be of much help.  This year, she's an able and enthusiastic assistant, pulling the plants I pry from the ground, throwing them in the bucket, and stomping the loose soil back into the ground.  Every afternoon, she asks to dig dandelions, and she would keep at it for hours, I think, if I didn't call it quits when my hands get tired.  And I thought I was compulsive.

I think that's Sarah in a nutshell for now.  She has come so far in the last two-and-a-half years.  As I remind her when I turn out the lights each night, she is my precious little girl.  I'm such a lucky mommy.  Here are some recent random shots:

An impromptu nap

Playing on the iPad before dinner with Sophie looking on

Modeling the new sweater that Mom made (big enough to last a while this time, I think)

A basket of sweetness

My little gypsy

Reading an Aud*bon bird book while her pedicure dries

New Year, New Plan

It's the first week of the new semester, and I'm not in class.  I'm afraid my return to college was short-lived.  Although I had the best intentions and thoroughly enjoyed my new course of study, the timing just wasn't right.

Being gone one afternoon and two evenings a week and squeezing in two-to-three hours of schoolwork a day just wasn't working. On paper, it looked like a great idea, especially when Don is home all the time, but I was stressed out and missed the lifestyle, as they say, "to which I'd become accustomed." Sarah still needs a lot of attention, and I want to be here to give it.

I was reconsidering my plan by the end of October.  Then Don's 84-year-old mom had emergency brain surgery (acute subdural hematoma). With his traveling to the Twin Cities weekly to care for her and his father, I needed to be home with Sarah, and there was little room for school. Although I had hoped to finish the semester, I withdrew from my classes.

So, I'm back to being "just" a stay-at-home mom for the time being, and I'm glad. My new plan is to try to go back to work for the N*tional W*ldlife R*fuge System. I hope to get a position in New England in a couple of years so that we can move closer to my family.  At this point, it makes sense to use the degree and experience that I already have and enjoy more time with Sarah.  In case you haven't heard, it goes by fast.  :)

Spring, a Birthday, and Mother's Day

I haven't blogged for a while, so this will be a catch-up post.  Just bits and pieces....

The weather has finally gotten nicer.  We went for a hike at the state park near our house last week.  Sarah is quite the trekker these days.  She just loves the outdoors.

Yesterday was Don's birthday.  Although he wasn't too excited about celebrating, Sarah sure was.  She helped me wrap presents and make a cake, and she made him a card.  We went out to dinner last night, and as we pulled out of the driveway, she said, "Happy home."  She learned "Happy Birthday" on S*same Street and practiced all week.  Of course, when the cake came out, she was mum.

Things are finally starting to grow in the yard -- my tulips and daffodils by the mailbox are blossoming, and the first asparagus is just about ready to pick.  Sarah has developed a taste for rhubarb, of all things, and loves to march through the unplanted garden to the back corner where Mom or Dad breaks off a stalk for her.  She then wanders the yard chewing on it.  Yuck!

As I expected, Sarah also loves digging dandelions with Mom.  I pop them up and she pulls them and stomps the dirt back down.  She and I could do this for hours, given our obsessive-compulsive natures.

For about a year, Sarah and I have been attending a monthly "Music Monday" at a local dance studio.  A warm, energetic woman named Wendy leads kids from baby to preschool age in song and dance.  Sarah is very shy and insists on sitting in my lap on the outside of the circle while the other moms and kids move around and sing.  She won't even let me tap my foot or clap my hands.  When the giant parachute comes out, she watches the other kids ride in a circle and run underneath.  Last week, we finally had a break-through.  She let me move to the music, and when the parachute came out, she said she wanted to ride.  Wendy and I almost convinced her to get on, but she backed away at the last minute.  Maybe next time!!!

She's started singing songs at home.  For a few days, she was singing one that I just couldn't place.  It sounded so familiar, but all I could make out was "dream" at the end.  Finally, Don guessed -- "Row, Row, Row Your Boat."  She's since added "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and "Wheels on the Bus."

Sarah still loves to sit with Cadi the Lab and share her Cheerios.  Lately, when she needs to refill her bowl, she gets up and says, "I'll be right back -- don't make mess!"  Poor Cadi...she's never made a mess with the Cheerios.

We had our first real Mother-Daughter conversation the other day.  The school bus went by, and Sarah said she wanted to ride it.  I told her she would ride it to school one day.  She said, "Mama ride school bus, too."  When I said I would stay home, she insisted, "No, Mama ride school bus."  I told her that when she rode it, she'd be ready for me to stay home and not to worry about it (big talk -- I know I'll be a wreck when that day comes!).

Her favorite lunch these days is "pappy-JJ" -- peanut butter and jelly.

It's hard to believe that today is my second Mother's Day.  On the other hand, Sarah and I (and Don) have been through so much together already.  She has been very affectionate lately, and it just makes my heart sing!  Her hugs are to-die-for.  Yesterday, she woke up at 4:45 a.m. and never went back to sleep.  Since she doesn't nap anymore, I wondered how the day would go, especially since we were going out to eat.  I hoped she might fall asleep in her highchair, which happens occasionally. 

After she finished lunch, she called, "Mom" and held her arms up to me.  I took her out and asked if she wanted to rock a bit.  To my surprise, she said, "Yes."  It's been a while since she let me rock her to sleep, and it was pure bliss.  She was a delight the rest of the day. 

At 4:10 this morning, I heard her yelling in her sleep, "No, no, no!"  I lay there imagining that she was having a horrible nightmare and wandered if I should wake her.  A few minutes later, she called, "Moooom!"  I went in, and she was sitting up.  I started to comfort her, and she said, "Cadi Dog no Band-aid!  Dada Band-Aid, Mama Band-Aid, Sarah Band-Aid...Cadi Dog no Band-Aid!"  Apparently, her dream wasn't as horrific as I'd feared.

She asked me to sleep with her, and I crawled in.  A few hours later, I awoke to find her head on the pillow next to mine...a great start to Mother's Day.  Soon, Sophie the Cat had joined us, and Don came in to capture the moment:

As I opened the card that Don so lovingly wrote from Sarah, I asked her what it said, and she replied, "Mama's baby!"

Before I became a mom, I was very sensitive to all the attention and adoration that moms receive from society and the media.  I bristled at the portrayal of moms as more important than other women.  I still do.  Being a mom does not make you inherently better or more valuable than non-moms, except in the eyes of your child.  And that's what I love about being a mom. 

Motherhood is generally protrayed as a selfless and generous act, but to me at least, it seems like a selfish one.  I wanted to be a mom because I longed to be the most important person in my daughter's life...the one to nurture, protect, and teach her.  I thrive on that.  Despite all the challenges she presents, I am happier than I've ever been.  I've never felt more valuable as a human being, and it's all because of one little person.