"I am Displeased!"

Yesterday, Ely wanted to watch television or play outside. Since it was getting to be her bedtime, I told her "not tonight." She kept asking, until I finally said, "We will not be watching T.V. tonight, and whining about it will only get you in bed sooner." She began to be rude to me, so I told her I didn't like being talked to that way, and she needed to use nicer words.

She did not like that answer. She put one hand on her hip, tilted her head, and with a Very Serious Expression on her face said "I am displeased with you, Mommy." The combination of pigtails, yellow princess dress, princess crown from her birthday cocked haphazardly on her head (one pigtail under and one over it) and the word "displeased" made such an adorable combination, it was all I could do not to laugh. I wanted her to know I took her seriously, but it was hard.

She is the most beautiful creature on this earth.

I told her that I was not pleased with the way she talked to me, and that she should apologize. She said she didn't want to. I told her if she could not be respectful, than it was probably better if she spent some time in her room until she was ready to be nicer to me. She nodded her head decisively, grabbed her princess wand, and flounced to her room. It was a short time later that she came out. Eventually she warmed back up to me and we hugged and kissed each other and said we loved each other.

It was far too short of a time for my mom and me to relieve all the laughter we had bottled up.

Busy Bee

I took Ely to the library today. She likes to play in their little pagoda and children's area. I sat with her in one of their comfy chairs and read her a story. She began talking about a little bee cutout they had hanging above the area, and talking about how it could fly because it has wings.

I told her, "yes, you're right! They do have wings."

"I don't have wings yet, do I mommy?" she replied.

I couldn't help but laugh and give her a big hug. "Not yet, darling."

"And once I have wings, then I fly, right mommy?"

"If you had wings, sweetie, you could fly, too. Just like that bee."

And with a contented sigh and wiggling into get more comfortable, she returned to the story.

Dust in the Wind

Yesterday, I took Ely to the park across from her daycare. It's the first time she's played there because the equipment is mostly for bigger kids, but it was shady, so I thought it would make a nice change.

The ground was a dusty sort of sand that she loved to pick up and let fall through her fingers, watching the way the wind fanned it out. She kept checking with me to see if I would countenance the mess-making, and when I smiled at her, she ran over to me, exclaiming about how pretty it was.

She was chattering about Belle (her newest favorite Disney princess), making up stories about her as she played on the equipment. For some reason, she keeps calling her "Jingle Belle". I guess she misses Christmas!

That night as we cuddled for bed, she decided she wanted to read me the bedtime story. Making it up as she went along, she read the entire "K" book from her Sesame Street alphabet books. It amazes me how much she remembers, and how easily she fills in her memory gaps with her own prose!

Why Be a Mother?

I think this post has captured why I want to be a mom. With the ugly decisions I've had to make recently, and the fear of the future lodged somewhere between my heart and the new baby coming, I just want to give everything to both my daughters. I can easily say if I had to choose between my life and one of theirs, there would be no hesitation. All the discomfort of being pregnant and taking care of a toddler without a husband beside me, all of my fears about my decisions pale in comparison. If my life has to be filled with loneliness so that I might give them the best chance at happiness I can, than I choose that loneliness with joy. I'm not sure why, except that I hope it can help them see how precious they are. No matter what they choose to become, they are worth everything I can give and more.

Hiding

This morning, Ely woke without my help. I think she is finally getting used to the summer light and her sleep schedule. When I went in to help her get dressed, I said, "Morning, beautiful!" the way I usually do. She was tucked under her blankets.

She said, "I'm hiding!"

I asked her, "You're hiding? Where are you?" She just giggled, so I told her I was hiding, too. I took her other blanket and put it over my head. She was laughing that bright, happy laugh that touches the core of my heart.

She said, "I hide, too!" and cuddled under my blanket with me.

I told her, "We're hiding together."

She said, "Yep!" and laughed and laughed. It was a very good morning. There is something so sweetly innocent in the way she plays with me. I wish I could form each of these memories into pearls and string them together, to take out and remember when she is older. I did not know it was possible to love so much.

"I Want Ariel!"

I'm not a fan of television. Movies are marginally better, but the sound of the TV still grates on my nerves. Unfortunately, my life has lent itself to rather more television/movie watching lately than I prefer. We have only a bare handful of animated, 2-year-old-friendly movies, among which are the Care Bears.

Ely is a Care-Bear-aholic. She absolutely adores watching the cute little bears bring love and caring into the world. This is wonderful, because of all the cartoons out there today, I'd much prefer she watch something with morals and meaning and storyline, like Care Bears. The problem with this is that we only have two, 30-minute tapes.

I am utterly sick of Care Bears.

So, imagine the depths of my joy when Ely declared "I want Ariel!" The best part about The Little Mermaid, as produced by Disney, is that there are parts of the movie which are hilarious to a two-year-old. I'm not talking about little-girl snickers funny, but deep, belly laugh funny. Few things gladden my heart as much as watching Ely laugh so hard her little body shakes when Scuttle uses the dinglehopper to fluff his hair, or when Max licks Ariel's face over the side of the ship.

This utter joy in the simple beauty of life is echoed when she observes the real world, too. This morning, as we stepped out of the house, she gazed up at the sky and said, light voice filled with wonder, "Stars, Mommy! Stars!"

I glanced around, and said back to her, "Yes, you're right! There are stars. Aren't they pretty?" all the while thinking how sad it was that only a dozen or so stars were visible in the city light.

It was then that I learned a very humbling lesson as she said, "Yes! Pretty! I like stars. Do you like stars, mommy?" I realized that she did not see what wasn't in the sky, she only saw the stars which were there, and she rejoiced in them.

Too often lately, I've been focusing on the empty spaces where stars should be, neglecting to notice the beauty that is there. I've been letting resentment and fear blind my eyes and keep me from trusting God.

I can't yet take her to the country at night, to show her how many more stars can be seen when observed from the right place. Yet, I ought to be able to remember that they are there, whether I can see them or not, whether I can share them with her yet or not.

And meanwhile, I can belly laugh at the simple silliness of life, and rejoice in the stars that can be seen from where I am now.

After a Years-long Hiatus: Poetry

I feel so alone,
Trembling and tiny
In a dark wasteland

I want to be held
As a baby is held,
As I hold my baby
And drink in the scent
Of her hair.

I want the comfort
Of a mother’s arms,
Of one who knows me.

I want to be told
That I will be okay,
That I did what I could,
That all will be well,
And believe.

I want to go home,
To feel I belong
Somewhere safe and warm.

I want to believe
I can somehow learn
To utterly cherish,
And to be cherished
In return.

I want sacrifice
Recognized as love
Without price or fear.

I want there to be
Hope in my broken heart
That my Savior can come,
Break away my pride
And teach joy.

But I feel alone,
Trembling and tiny
In my own wasteland.