A Trying Trip and Its Aftermath

Sarah and I flew back to Massachusetts to visit my family a week ago Friday.  As it was my first time flying with her alone, I was a bit worried about how it would go.  I researched "the best" activities for entertaining toddlers on airplanes and had a backpack full of tricks. 

Although she was supposed to fly in my lap, we totally lucked out and had empty seats beside us on every flight, here and back.  On the way out, a super nice young woman sat in the window seat in our row and played with Sarah most of the way.  On the way back, we were in a two-seat row, so Sarah had the window to herself.  She was quite good overall, but I was thankful to have the extra space.

Unfortunately, Sarah didn't enjoy the visit as much as I had envisioned.  I thought she would become comfortable with her grammy, uncles, aunt, and cousins after a day or so, but she was anxious and clingy the whole time.  She didn't want to leave my side.  Grammy was able to distract her long enough for me to take a shower each day, but that was it.  I couldn't even make dinner without her hanging on my leg and begging to be picked up.

When we visited at Thanksgiving, Sarah was more relaxed.  I think she was uneasy because Don wasn't there.  She's so used to having the three of us together that she's thrown when one of us is absent.  She wasn't happy sleeping in the Pack and Play, so she ended up in bed with me the first night.  The next night, she reached for my bed again, so I decided to pull out the trundle bed underneath.  As I tranferred the bedding from one to the other, she climbed excitedly all over the trundle.  I didn't think she'd settle down once in bed, but she snuggled in, pulled my arm over her, reached up to kiss me, and went to sleep.  It was very sweet.

On Tuesday, we went to a butterfly museum with Grammy, Auntie Heather, and cousins Forrest, Sam, and Kelley.  Sarah was nervous most of the time but finally loosened up at the end, so I got a few decent shots.

We were both eager to get home on Wednesday.  Sarah was very shy with strangers the whole way back, hiding her face in my chest when someone spoke to her.  She wanted me to hold her hand while I pushed her in the stroller. 

When we reached La Cr*sse, we went outside to wait for Don to pick us up.  There were no empty benches, so I chose one with a woman sitting on the other end and expected Sarah to be worried about her.  To my surprise, she was back to her old self and confidently started flirting with the woman, smiling and laughing.  It was as if she knew she was home and went back to her old self.

When Don arrived, Sarah squealed with delight and dove into his arms.  She laughed and shrieked happily the whole way home.

Unforunately, her joy was short-lived.  She vomited throughout the night and had diarrhea for the next two days.  She was not a happy camper.  The scourge hit Don and me around dinnertime Friday.  Just as Sarah was recovering, she came down with a nasty cold and slept very little last night.  Talk about a 1-2 punch.

I hope Don and I avoid the cold and we're all be back to normal soon.  The real world is rough on us.  I'm afraid we don't do so well away from the nest.

Feeling Abandoned

Alas, there is no joy in Mudville, the mighty kestrels have moved on.  After 4 1/2 weeks of building our hopes, the mini-raptors have disappeared.   We saw them last on Friday morning and knew there was trouble yesterday afternoon, when lowly starlings were checking out the nest box.  This morning, Don took the box down and found nesting material (including a fresh viola???) but no eggs.

Over the last month, watching the birds had become our favorite pastime.  Their courtship behavior was fascinating, with the male bringing fresh mice to the female as tokens of his affection (and fitness as a mate).  One evening, we watched them snatch nightcrawlers from the ground, following a spring rain.  There's no mention of that in the field guides.  And, lately, the female had been spending time in the box, we assumed laying eggs.

We'll never know the whole story.  Maybe something happened to one of them, though it's not likely.  Maybe the female wasn't fertile.  Maybe there was too much activity in the neighborhood, although they had been sticking around even with people and dogs walking by. 

Whatever the reason for their departure, we're thankful they stayed as long as they did.  For a month, we shared the farm with "parakeets that eat meat," and we'll never forget it.  Sarah's one of the few toddlers with "hawk" in their vocabulary.  :)

On the upside, we had a whooping crane feeding in the agricultural field across the street this week.  It was with a handful of sandhill cranes, which it dwarfed.  Considering there are only about 500 whooping cranes in the wild, more than half in the Central Flyway west of us, this was a rare event. 

Can You Hear Me Now?

Sarah's latest thing is pretending to talk on the phone, and she's not picky about props.  So far, she's used a rock, a small wooden ball, an empty milk jug, a notepad, and her sippy cup.  She holds them to her ear and says loudly, "Hello?" (unfortunately, I can't recreate the way she says it), then throws her head back and issues a phony (so to speak) laugh.  (Don says she's mimicking me, but I swear my laughs are genuine.)  It's a hoot.

Big Night Out

Last night we ventured out for dinner for the first time since returning from China.  Boy, was I excited!  We went to our favorite Italian restaurant.  Before Sarah, Don and I used to go once a month.  We'd get a booth and talk about politics and current events over glasses of wine and wood-fired pizza.  It was a cozy little ritual that lasted through most of the Bush years and into the Obama Administration. 

Last night was a little different, of course, with Sarah in a highchair at the end of the table.  Instead of solving the world's problems, we attempted to keep a toddler from causing problems.  We purposely went early in the week and early in the evening to minimize the disturbance to other diners (and stress to ourselves).  Sarah was very good, though and seemed to relish sitting between Mom and Dad at the table.

We enjoyed our night out together and were home by 6:45, just in time for Sarah's bath and bed.  In all fairness to her, I have to disclose that we didn't stay out much later than that even when it was just the two of us.

The next step is going out without Sarah.  I'm working on that one.  I hope by summer we'll have a regular babysitter once a month, and Don and I can resume our former wild dates, which traditionally include a late afternoon movie PLUS an early dinner and home by 7:30.  It's an ambitious goal, but achievable, I think.

Happy Easter!

Sarah has gotten a lot of mileage out of Easter. She's been to three egg hunts and is now a pro. This morning, when she was finding eggs left by the Easter Bunny, she immediately opened them and popped the candy in her mouth before I could stop her. She hasn't had much candy up until now, so she's completely thrilled by this sweet turn of events.

She got three Easter baskets today (one from the Easter Bunny, one from Grammy, and one from our wonderful neighbors Jim and Linda). The Easter Bunny left her some Duplo blocks (big Lego) with a little dog to go with them, and she loves him. She keeps kissing and hugging him, even though he can fit in the palm of her hand. She is definitely a dog lover.

At church this morning, she was a real charmer. She's learning how cute she is and how easily adults are entertained. She got plenty of attention in her little polka-dot dress. She sat with us through the service and behaved quite well.

Hope you're all having a wonderful day!

Four Minutes Without Mom and Dad

Church just isn't the same since Sarah arrived. I used to leave feeling uplifted, and, on a good day, inspired. Now, I leave tense and tired from trying to keep Sarah entertained and quiet for an hour. She is really very good, but it takes constant vigilance, and not a little ingenuity, to get her through it without being disruptive. I dare say the people seated around us enjoy her presence much more than I do during those 60 minutes.

I bring snacks, which enthrall her for about five minutes. Then she needs a drink of water, so out comes the sippy cup. At this point, I live in fear of her carelessly hurling it through the air and beaning someone. I bring books, but books prompt questions, and she's soon pointing and saying, "aaaAAA?" I offer things from my bag, which amuse for mere minutes and are then dropped loudly on the floor. Don and I are not the kind of people who like to call attention to ourselves in a good way, let alone an embarassing one.

Last time we went to church (it's only about once a month now), partway through the service, Sarah gave me the "potty" sign. I tried to wave it off, but she was adamant. So, I took her out to the bathroom and tried to dissuade her by showing her that the toilets were the big, noisy kinds that she doesn't like. She persisted, so I got her undressed and held her on the seat, only to have the thing automatically flush beneath her. She, of course, screamed and cried with fright, and that was the end of that. When we returned to the pew, Don asked if it was Sarah he heard crying. When I nodded, he said, "Geez, it sounded like it was piped in through the sound system."

Our church offers childcare, so I decided to see how Sarah would react to the nursery. This morning, we stayed in the service until the sermon, then headed downstairs. She was reserved at first, as always, but soon started playing with a pop-up toy. After a few minutes, the high school student who was chaperoning enticed her and another quiet little girl into drawing at a table. I figured it was a good time to see how she'd feel about my leaving.

I told her I was going to leave for a few minutes but I'd be back. She asked if I was going in the car, and I told her, "No, just down the hall." She nodded. I stepped out and was able to spy on her from the hallway. She didn't miss a beat and went on drawing.

I wasn't sure how long to wait, but parents soon started showing up to retrieve their little ones, so I went back in after a whopping four minutes. I knelt beside her at the table and said, "Hi, I'm back." She looked up at me as if I had just said, "The sky is blue" and went back to drawing, completely unimpressed.

After months of scheming and stressing about how to ease her into separating from us, this was completely anticlimactic -- in a good way...I guess. Although I had a little twinge of disappointment that she wasn't distraught at my disappearance, it was a huge relief to know that she trusts me to return. I figure leaving is the hardest part, and she did fine. She doesn't have a good concept of time, so, if she's good for a few minutes, she ought to be fine for an hour.

It was only four minutes, but it showed how far Sarah has come in the time we've been together. During our first week, she cried whenever we put her down. For months, she resisted advances by strangers. She is still on the shy side, but she seems much more confident and secure, at least in the daytime. She has a hard time being apart from us at night, but I'm sure that will improve with time.

Sarah the Swinger

Don put up Sarah's swing in the Grandfather Tree (a big, stately, old silver maple in our yard) yesterday. To say she enjoys it is an understatement. See for yourself, and don't forget to turn up your volume, because the audio is the best part.