Pink

Though I have always loved dolls of all sorts, I am in no way a girly-girl.  Most days, I hardly put on anything nicer than yoga pants and a t-shirt, and it is a fancy occasion indeed when I wear make-up.  When I found out we were having a girl, I almost didn't to tell people until after she was born so that she wouldn't end up clothed in pure pink.  I wanted to be entirely gender neutral, empower my daughter to choose her own path, as well as allow my (hypothetical) son to choose his as well.
Newborn Sofia wore lots of colors.  Honest.  Mostly pink.  In varying shades.
Since she could first reach her arms out to choose a toy, Sofia has loved baby dolls.  She couldn't yet stand on her own two feet, but she was rocking and nursing and wrapping in a blanket her baby.
She also loves to play with trains, cars, and dinosaurs.
We live on a farm.  She's seen life from beginning to end, played in her share of dirt, planted, weeded and harvested a garden.
Yet, you can't change biology and social constructs that easily.  She received a pink tutu for her birthday after having to pry one off of her at a toy store.  She has visited Daddy at work, gone to the library, the bank, and the grocery store in that tutu.  She'd wear it to bed if we let her.  I can only coax her out of it if I have her Princess jammies in hand.
We went to the zoo the other day.  We had a great time.  We saw a lion roar, watched a giraffe run up close and personal, counted ducks and waved at a swimming river otter.  She found the camouflaged mountain lion, watched the snow monkeys and climbed on the jungle gym.  At the zoo gift shop on the way out, she found the toy she just had to have, and has been bringing it everywhere with her since.
Meet Sally the Sea Otter.

In technicolor.

The worst part is, I think she's kinda cute.

Three

Somehow, some way, my beautiful baby celebrated her third birthday.

I can hardly believe that the baby I cradled and nursed is now a preschool aged child, no longer a toddler, with a personality all her own.  She's THREE, people.  I mean, I have memories from when I was three.  I'd better watch what I say from now on.

Dear Sofia, 

You delight me.  It is such fun to watch you create stories with your dolls and toys, and make everything into a game.  You create elaborate rules to games that you invent, then expect us to know them all.  You adore painting and choose your colors quite carefully.  You get so excited about things that you literally jump up and down with joy, and cannot control the volume of your voice.  The joy and excitement just spills from your little body.  I love every minute of it.  

You frustrate me.  You have a whine that knows the exact way to get under my skin.   You have to be reminded, sometimes, to use your manners, and to ask without whining.  You pitch a fit when you don't get your own way, putting on a big show, with big, fat crocodile tears, and the most inventive fake cry I've ever heard, even though you know very well it won't get you your way.  

You fill my heart with love.  Your hugs are so tight, your kisses so precious.  You have the most beautiful smile that reaches all the way to your eyes, though you only use it when truly happy, which might be the best part of all (though it makes it difficult to get a picture of).  You are quite picky about who you show that love to and when, which, though disappointing sometimes for an aunt or grandparent, or even parent when a kiss is withheld, is actually a good thing.  I'll be grateful for it when you are sixteen.  

You continue to change and grow so much.  Things you loved last summer (the swing) scare you now.  You are very cautious about new things, new places, new people.  You hide behind my legs and pretend not to hear when a stranger (which may actually be a relative) says hello.  Sometimes, you will even tell them, "I'm a little shy."  Once you warm up, though, you are friends forever.  You create games with certain people, that you expect to be played the same way, over and over again.  Aunt Nancy has a tail, Tia Juli and Tia Jeli smell Stella's diaper, Aunt Sarah has a jungle under the afghan in her room, and you chase Grandpa.

You are so smart.  You know all your abc's, including the sound for each letter, and can tell us what letter nearly any word starts with.  You can count to twenty (and are starting to be able to do the twenties, too) in English and Spanish.  You know about camouflage and hibernation and metamorphosis.  You love to watch, observe and learn.  

You love to dress up, choosing to wear dresses nearly every day, and recently, your ballerina tutu that you got for your birthday.  Always.  You still prefer to be naked, however, and will strip down whenever we aren't looking.

You are a fantastic eater.  You love veggies and healthy foods.  Once, you had a brownie in your hand, and saw that I was processing broccoli.  You dropped the brownie, and begged me for a piece of raw broccoli.  Anytime, dear.  Though, I don't think the situation would be the same had you been eating ice cream.  Peppers, tomatoes, and olives are your favorites, though you love it all.  

You love playing with other kids.  Even though you are shy, painfully so, with adults, you are instantly friends with any child you meet.  In Venezuela, you hung tightly to Natasha and Nathalia, and loved playing with the cousins your age.  You love Jay and Ella, and are always looking for a playmate. I promise we'll get you into school soon.  You need other kids your own age.

You love Sesame Street and Dora.  You play out elaborate schemes of shows you've seen or books you've heard. Speaking of books, they are your favorite.  You would read stories all day if an adult would sit with you that long.  You love the Berenstain Bears, and have really gotten into any book by Mo Willems, including Knuffle Bunny.

You bring us so much joy, Sofia Carmen.  Thanks for a terrific three years.  Each day is precious, and I'm so honored to be your mama. Truly.  Even the days I want to send you to the moon.  

Love,

Mama

To Oz and back again

Somehow days, weeks, months continue to pass by, and before I even realized that the blossoms have all given way to leaves, those same leaves are beginning to turn crimson, yellow, orange and the summer is over.
During my absence, we trekked to Venezuela.  How wonderful to see, live and in person, all the people we love and miss so dearly on Julio's side of the family.  It is difficult, however.  Sofia doesn't know them.  The last time she saw them, she was seven months old.  She's different now.  She's not the gummy-smiled baby who loves any arms that are open to hug her.  She has opinions and expectations, and is more than a little shy.  Over all, everyone did well, most especially Sofia, who learned to love her relatives and surroundings, tried speaking the different language, and made many friends along the way.  I could see the hurt in Julio's eyes, though, when Sofia didn't want to love on someone she just met, even though that person loves her very much.
She still talks about the trip; the people she met, the places we went and things we did.  I'm working on uploading pictures to Shutterfly to create photo books to experience it over and over again.
There's nothing better than having a fantastic vacation, and nothing better than coming home to your very own bed.

A Brighter (Storm-filled) Day

Okay, so as I knew while writing my last entry, though could not fathom in my conscious thought, being put on the waiting list is not the end of the world.  There are other plans, other options, other paths my life my take.  I will go on.  It still hurt, but it is not the end of me.

My 15-year-old cousin was in a terrible car wreck, head-on highway speed, a week and a half ago.  Miraculously, all three occupants of the car are alive, and more miraculously, Lori is home and walking and talking.  She's got a long road ahead of her, but she is a living miracle.  She is a fantastic runner, and earned a varsity letter and attended state last year, her first in track.  She was looking forward to this year's cross country team with excitement.  She's now been told that she can't run for six months.  A small worry when you've just survived something everyone thought should have killed you, but disappointing just the same.  Instead of being upset, this amazing girl is planning to volunteer with the team, and go with them to meets to cheer them on.  A true team player, a person whose Plan with a capital p was torn to shreds, yet still sees life as a journey to be enjoyed.

I'm searching job sites, combing hospital openings, seeking out possible apprenticeships.  I've applied for several jobs and looked into other avenues to become a nurse.  I might be down, but I'm not out.  I'm too good for that.  Life is a journey meant to be enjoyed.

Wanted: A New Plan

Warning:  this entry is rated R due to offensive language.  Please avert eyes if that sort of thing offends you.

I've been waiting for June 30 for a long time, ever since my phone interview with the nursing school a month and a half ago.  The 30th came a day early over here, and...not good.  

I ran to the mailbox like I do every day lately, just to check.  Today, and envelope!  From UW-Oshkosh!  Yay!  Then, fuck.  This envelope is skinny.  That's not good.  Tear open to flap, skim the skimpy little letter with a desperate hope that this was just the first of two or something.  No such luck.  "Thank you so much for applying...the program is highly competitive, blah blah blabbity blah.  Waiting list." 

So that's that.  The fucking waiting list.  Accepted applicants have until July 9 to secure their spot.  After that, they might offer entry to someone on the waiting list.  Only, how many are on this sucky-ass waiting list?  How many usually get accepted after being on the waiting list?  Does being on the waiting list give me any sort of benefit for future attempts, or is basically a 'it's not you, it's me thing, where everybody knows that "waiting list"  is code for NOT FUCKING ACCEPTED, stop wasting your time and your hope.'

What now?  

This has been my Plan with a capital P.  This was going to save me and my family from poverty, give my life meaning, propel me forward.  I had a Plan.

Now I'm floundering again.  I'm almost 30 for crissake, and I still am applying to and getting rejected from jobs where the only requirement is 'high school graduate.'  

I spent a lot of time this afternoon feeling sorry for myself, and am currently drowning my sorrows in a glass of red wine.  Tomorrow, I have to start anew.  Apply for jobs.  Update the resume.  Search.

What do I do now?  What the fuck do I do now?

Brilliant

Today, Sofia and I created a masterpiece.  It is my mom's birthday tomorrow, and I thought it would be fun for Sofia to paint a terra cotta pot for her.  She loves to paint, Mom loves plants, perfect solution.
And it was.  The pot looks fabulous.  Sofia carefully chose just the right colors and painted a beautiful pot. It looks great.  We even put two little handprints, which Sofie thought was just the greatest.  And then we put a plant inside.   You know, the kind with dirt and water.  Water.
Now the pot is sticky.  It still looks great, but you can. not. touch. the. pot.  Turns out, the washable kids paint that is so great because it never stains her clothes, making clean-up a breeze also washes off pretty well after it's been dried.  On a terra cotta pot.  I think instead of making a present for Grandma, we created a mess.
Brilliant.

A sibling, someday

I know this may seem counterintuitive based on my recent complaining and complete lack of patience, but I am so ready to have another baby.

and I know.  I KNOW.  We aren't ready.  The timing isn't right.  I need to finish school first, and I'm excited for that part.  I just wish I didn't have to wait.

I see pictures of siblings, and I tear up inside.  I watch a kid Sofie's age love on their younger brother or sister, I hear stories of kids playing together, fighting together, growing up together and I feel like Sofia's missing out. I feel that I am missing out.  I am missing those souls that belong in our family that haven't yet arrived.

I'm afraid that not having a sibling, not having to share, having four adults dote on her at all times is making Sofia spoiled.  She's the ultimate only child.  Yet, is that a bad thing?  Two of my best friends are only children, and they are the most thoughtful, generous, loving, interesting, wonderful people I know.  They have both said that part of them at different points in their lives has wished that they'd had a brother or sister.  Who among us, though, hasn't at one point wondered what it would be like if we had less siblings?  Or no siblings?

I wonder about my future child often.  I think of names, I wonder how he or she will be different from Sofia.  Will they be similar in some ways? What characteristics will make the new baby unique?  I wonder about the age difference.  Will five or six years be too many?  Will Sofia and he/she be close?  Will they still be able to play together?

And I wonder, terrified, if there will be another baby. Will we have the same problems we had before?  Will we try and try and have our hearts ripped out over and over again, never to be blessed with another miracle?  That nagging miscarriage fear is always there.  Am I strong enough to lose three more babies?

My family is not complete, and I yearn for those souls yet to come.  I have to trust that they'll come when their time is right.

Worth it

and then, after a day when I felt like my daughter would hate me forever, she wraps her precious little arms around my neck, gives me a loud smooch, and says, "Mommy, you're my best friend."

and you are mine, Sofie.

Crabby Days

It's not been a very good few days around here.

I'm not sure which came first, but the effect is the same.  Sofia is crabby.  Whiney.  Negative.  Whiney.  Grouchy.  Whiney.  Sad.  Did I mention whiney?
I have zero patience.  Everything makes me crazy.  I yell.  I pout.  I try to keep from crying and count to ten.  I try to remember that she's two, that we're both fighting a cold, that this is completely normal.  And then I yell again.

I hate the mother I'm becoming, at least right now.  I can't seem to get anything done, and the things I am able to do, nothing goes right.  I hate when I lose my temper, when my patience is thin and I'm always just a step away from the end of my rope.

What of this will she remember?  I've always thought of myself as a good mom, a patient mom, a mom that doesn't yell, that thinks of fun things to do, that loves her child more than life itself and would never want to send her to the moon, even for the day.  But lately, when my first attempts at fixing the situation don't work, my next attempts are less than effective.  Getting frustrated is guaranteed not the perk my daughter out of her bad mood.

Being a stay-at-home mom is tough.  Having been both a work-outside the home mom and a stay at home mom, both present their own challenges.  When I worked full-time, being with Sofia was my respite, my me time.  I was over-joyed just to be with her, and to do the things that need doing at home.  Since I hadn't been with her all day, all I wanted to do was play toys, do fun things, and enjoy my girl.  It was incredibly difficult to leave each morning, especially the mornings when Sofia hadn't woken up yet.  I hated that I was missing her life, that she was growing up and I wasn't a part of most of her day-to-days.  It was so hard to get everything done that a mom needs to do at home, and remaining productive at work was difficult.  My heart and mind were elsewhere.

Now, I get to be home with my girl.  I see her almost every waking moment, and I do cherish it.  There is always lots to get done around the house and at the farm, and I'm never bored.  I love having the time with Sofia, and I know she likes having me around.  However, because I am  here all day, I sometimes miss the moments of playing and imagining because I'm busy with dishes or lambs or vacuuming or everything else that needs to get done.  Because I don't get a respite, my temper gets short.  My crabby days get multiplied because I don't have an outlet away from Sofia.

So, today I made more of an effort to do fun things together.  We created an on-line book, found Sesame Street coloring pages, and tried to do a craft together.  For about five minutes, it was great.  Then, the whining, crying, say-no-so-everything behavior started.  Again.  And I feel like a failure.

So, we'll count to ten, read stories, and just make it through today.  Perhaps tomorrow will be better.

Return of the Sun

Well, the sun has made its reappearance, and we couldn't be happier.  Julio and I snuck out with Sofia to the lake this morning, said hello to a family of geese and went down the slide more times than I can count.
We do have a little diva in the making, which I am trying so hard to nip in the bud.  She is constantly bossing everybody around.  Close the windows. I want Mommy to drive.  I don't want you to wear your glasses.  No, that's my mommy.
Life isn't all about you, little chick.  I know we've made it seem that way since the minute you were born, because we do love you more than life itself and would actually do anything for you and want to give you every single thing you want.  Really, we do.  Thing is, though, that not everybody else does.  People are going to tell you no.  You will be rejected, probably teased, and stepped on a little bit.  You are going to have rainy days when you wanted sun.  Things just don't always go your way.  And while I want you to fight for what is right and stand up for yourself, there are times you are just going to have to go with the flow.  And like the waterfall that you couldn't turn off because it was too loud, you cannot control where that flow flows.  Life's wild like that.  Unfortunately, it isn't all about you.

March and May

I think March and May definitely got confused this month.  While in March, we donned shorts, waded in lakes and counted our blessings in degrees, so far this May, rain gear and snow boots have been the attire.  The very day lambing began, so did the onslaught of cold, rain and wind.  And snow.  Baby lambs do not like cold, rain, and wind.  Or snow.
We're up to our eyeballs in cold baby lambs, and in our haste to protect them from the oncoming storm, we moved a momma and new baby that were bonded well in the field up into the barn, only to find the baby electrocuted by the fencer.  Lesson learned and fencer switched off, but too late.  I seriously gave the compusling baby CPR, and then cried.  Its poor mother has sat, unmoved by its little stiff body, in the rain.
But, today is a new day, though just as blustery.  Another mom had more babies than she can feed, and the poor, lamb-less mama is the proud adoptive mother of one of the other babies.
Last evening, Sofia spent five hours with Grandpa and me out in the fields, trying to sort out babies and mamas and bring everyone to dry and safety.  She was such a good girl, patient and quiet, calm and observant.  We had to assist several moms give birth, and she asked, calmly, "Did that lambie die?" Thankfully, that time, I got to respond that no, that lamb made it.  She's up and nursing on her mama.
We're hoping the weather dries up a bit, and adds a few ticks on the thermometer.  Life would be easier on us all.
I had the second interview for nursing school, and I feel like it went really well.  Now, I just wait.  I can't apply for financial aid until I am formally accepted, and they don't have to make their final decisions until June 30.  Meanwhile, I cross my fingers, make plans for the fall, and finish the one prerequisite I have left to complete.
And feed baby lambs.

Nursing School application continues

Interview number one.  Check.

Must have done okay, because I have interview number two tomorrow.  Am scared.  Am nervous.  How to talk without stumbling over umms and ahhs?

Must go prepare answers and compulsively read everything about this program to show that I am, indeed, truly ready.

Yikes.

Last year of twenty-something...

So, I turned 29. Twenty-nine.  2-9.  The last birthday that starts with twenty.

How?

Turns out, very happily.  Julio made me the most delicious chocolate cake I've even eaten in my life.  Seriously.  Like Sarah said, we can't even call it cake.  That would just make all the other cakes feel bad.  Also, to-die-for lamb chops on the grill.  I don't even want to think about all the calories I consumed on Saturday, only to remember that IT WAS WORTH IT.  We had a fantastic time playing Hoopla and just being together.  I am skipping into my thirtieth year, happy that I know my path and that I am where I belong.

In farm news, we have movement on the turkey front.  Not only did two hens lay an entire nest, they are both currently setting.  If all goes well, we should have poults in approximately 24 days!  We also have an incubator up and running for the turkey eggs we gathered before allowing the hens to build their nests.  We will put the eggs in tomorrow, and in 28 days, if we're lucky, we should have another batch of poults.  I'm so excited!  You should have seen how giddy I was the day I first found a turkey egg in their hut.  Seriously.

The trees are starting to blossom; the flower crab apple tree burst open its blooms this morning, while the cherry and apple trees are moving closer to full-on flowering.  A little early, but a beautiful sight to behold.

Eek!

I'm about to send in my application for nursing school.  I'm terrified.  I want so badly to be accepted, to begin the program, to become a nurse.  I know I'd be a great candidate, I just hope they know it, too.
Wish me luck!

A Promise of Spring

God, I love spring.  The very first tastes of sunshine and warm weather and more grass than snow on the ground.  Every day feels like a treasure that can't be wasted.  We've spent an entire winter either indoors or encumbered by winter jackets, mittens and hats, that any moment not spent soaking in the spring like sun in short sleeves is pure gold.  Never mind that the world is full of mud (hey, if you are two years old, a world made of mud is a treasure, too!) and the trees and grass are still brown, with only a few, brave sprigs daring to poke their green heads out of the ground.  Still, a treasure.  There are geese, ducks, and cranes making their presence known by their cacophonous voices and a few rare glimpses of their majesty.
The very first days of spring make the winter worth it.  Being able to fully appreciate the sun and weather that doesn't require covering your arms, to know what the world is like without cranes, geese, green grass and sunshine, can be a gift.  If only that gift didn't last so long.

Tom Pease

My two year old can boogie.  Boogie down.
We went with our dear friends to a kids' concert this weekend, a performer who I used to watch as a kid and adored.  I had a bunch of cassettes, and can still sing along and do all the motions.
Tom Pease is infectious.  By watching, you can just tell how much he loves kids (and grown-ups, too).  In turn, the kids love him, and I saw more than one grown-up bopping along, not just because their kid was watching, but because they were having fun!
Sofia loved every second.  She was the first kid to get up out of her seat and dance in the aisle.  She spun in circles, bopped up and down, sang along, and performed all the actions.
I'm currently looking up all the old albums on CD and more performance dates in our area.  This is fun that has to be had again.

PS.  Waisman Center, from the people in the middle section, fourth row back; we're sorry.  I'm sure the milk, squashed grapes and crunched crackers weren't all that fun to clean up.  We did our best.  Our kids sure had fun, though!

Future's so bright...

After weeks, months, years, of hem hawing around, not committing, never being sure, my future is getting a path.
I had an appointment with an advisor for the accelerated second degree nursing program at UW-Oshkosh, and it seems that all systems are go.  I'm super excited, and plan on submitting my application tomorrow.
I also have to call BirthWise, a birth center in Appleton.  They are offering a midwife apprenticeship, which is exactly what I'd like to do.  Weighing the two options is difficult.  Ultimately, my goal as a nurse is to be a midwife, or Nurse Practitioner in OB.  The apprenticeship route might get me there much faster.  I might also make me less employable.  There are relatively few places actually hiring midwives, especially ones without nursing degrees.  I plan to meet with the midwives to find out more specifics about the program, and weigh both options.
I have a plan!  I have a path!
In bigger news, Sofia has earned her BIG! PRESENT!  A blue boa with a bright red tongue and propensity to chase the nearest grown-up for a tickle.  Or bite, depending on its mood.
And she's still putting her number 1 and number 2 into the potty, which is a bonus.

March

Welcome, March!  The promise of spring, the beginning of green.  Even though the ground is still covered in snow, the bright sunshine and warm winds have me breathing a breath of fresh air.  The winter might yet end!
Things are plodding along over here, as I look into where my future should lead.  I have an appointment this week, and I hope to figure some things out.  I want this show on the road!
With all my free time, I am trying to catch up on my picture project.  I had left off December 2008, and when you take as many pictures as I do, there is a lot to wade through.  I can't believe how little Sofia was just over a year ago!  I've made it to May, and am on a mission to catch up.
Sofia has been into so much imaginary play lately; it is so fun to watch.  The newest joy is pretending to be a doctor and giving everyone check-ups.  She uses a ribbon as her stethoscope, though, and a pen to give shots, so I think a doctor kit is in her near future.  Perhaps as the 'big present' promised from the potty training extravaganza.  Although her grandpa has convinced her she wants a snake.  Thanks, Dad.
I feel so blessed for my incredible family and wonderful friends.  I am not a good communicator, and often go weeks without talking to those important to me.  I can be a hermit and hole up at home with just my family, and even with all that, I am enveloped by those who truly care.

How Appropriate

Sofia has been owning the potty.  She is able to tell us for both number one and number two, and the only accidents we've had lately came during naptime and timeout (cue the mommy-guilt on that one).  We're still rewarding every success (with m&m's - food as reward, I know...I know...), and she has decided that she gets "two of them" every time.  I oblige, every time, and every time (seriously EVERY TIME) she selects one yellow one and one brown one.  How fitting, love.  Number one and number two.  Perfect.

That Backbone of Mine

Remember my quest to grow a backbone?  Well, I'm making progress, but not exactly in the fashion I imagined.

I quit.  With no notice, nothing.  Just quit.  I had had enough.  More than enough, actually.

I don't want to get into too many details, since this is public, after all, but here I am, unemployed again.  I don't feel so lost this time, though.  There are a few directions I can go in, and some actual jobs that I qualify for.  I want to do Physician's Assistant school.  I will find a way, somehow.  Julio is more than supportive, and I love him for it.  Missy sent me flowers and a congratulations.  Everybody is happy for me.  I will be, too.

Now, I must wrest myself from the computer and go DO.  I have jobs to apply for, schools to research, and a house to clean.  My vacuum needs exercising.  I guess I do, too.