Home alone

I'm home alone today!

This may not sound like a big deal, but it's like my birthday and Christmas and Mother's Day all rolled into one event. I'm stuck close to home because I'm on call for work, and Jason took our daughter Ellie to a family wedding a couple of hours away. Normally, being on call is not cause for celebration for me, but this is the longest stretch of time that I've had the house to myself since we came home from China with our daughter. My husband is a stay-at-home dad, so whenever I'm home, he and Ellie are here too.

I've been a pediatrician for over ten years, so I've heard a lot of stories and received many pearls of wisdom about parenting. Some of these have proved invaluable as I've navigated my way through my own first experience as a mother. I was prepared for the loss of my social life and my free time, ready to get rid of many items of furniture and household accessories, and resigned to having my home forever resembling a toy store that's been hit by a tornado. I also figured that a good night's sleep was a thing of the past. These things came as no surprise to me, and I understood that it was all for the best of causes.

However, there were a few items that no one saw fit to warn me about. No one told me, for instance, that I would never again go to the bathroom by myself, or enjoy a hot beverage before it was stone cold, or eat a nice family meal using both hands and a knife. Most of all, no one ever mentioned how much I'd miss the peace and quiet of being alone in the house. As an older first-time mom, I had grown accustomed to (dependent on?) my "alone" time. I loved curling up on the couch with the dog, sipping a cup of hot tea and reading a mystery novel, with no one to make demands on me.

Being home alone for over six hours was just like a little slice of heaven. I started to do some housework, then realized that I could do that any time when Ellie and Jason were home. Then I started to write this blog, and realized the same thing. I finally came to my senses, and settled down on the couch with the dog, sipping a cup of hot tea and reading a mystery novel.

First day of school

Ellie started preschool on Monday this week.  It's the first time she's been away from both parents, among strangers rather than friends or family.  Actually, it's only the second time she's been away from both her parents since we brought her home.  I guess we should get out more, huh?

It's too bad that I didn't think of preparing her for this day with a book, like "Corduroy Goes to School".  That technique worked well for the trip to the doctor's office, but I didn't think of it until the day before school started, and then couldn't find an appropriate book at our local bookstore.

I took the day off from work, figuring that even if Ellie didn't need my support, my husband certainly would.  Both Jason and I brought Ellie to school in the morning.  She was tentative and shy when we first arrived, and was actually starting to look pretty pissy as we scurried around trying to figure out where to put her diapers, wipes, and change of clothes.  Daddy managed to get her interested in some of the toys, and we were able to kiss her goodbye and make the great escape.  We were free! 

Our first move as child-free adults was to go out for breakfast.  I can't tell you how wonderful it was to have a meal at which I could cut with a knife, use both hands, drink a hot beverage, and have an adult conversation.  No one had ever warned me that parents of young children forfeit these simple pleasures.  Jason worried his way through his breakfast with thoughts like "They wouldn't let her get out into the street, would they?" and "No one could walk in and take her, could they?"  It's genetic.  His mother has it, and his grandmother did, too. 

After breakfast, we went home so that he could open some birthday presents without Ellie's "help". Jason continued to worry, of course. "Do you think we should call and check on her?" During the three and a half hours of Ellie's first day of school, I think I said "no" to Jason more times than I normally would in an entire day. This may not sound like much, but remember, I have a two-year-old, so I'm saying "no" constantly on a normal day. Luckily, the presents were a nice distraction, and he was able to settle down to enjoying a morning without Ellie. By the time we left the house to go pick up Ellie, he said, "I could get used to this!"

We went back to get Ellie, amazingly only about ten minutes early. She was so happy to see us; I think she might have imagined that we were never coming back for her. She was just as happy to come home, and spent several minutes going around to kiss and hug all her favorite toys. And after only one morning in preschool, she was making much more of an effort to talk. I think I could get used to this, too!

What a difference a year makes

Last June, on her first birthday, I gave Ellie a cupcake in a bowl.  We were having her party several days later, so I figured there was no need to have a full birthday cake twice.  Besides, every kid loves to dig into their birthday cake, right?  A cupcake seemed like it would be a perfect size for her to make a huge mess and maybe eat a bite or two. 

I sat her in her high chair, took her shirt off, and put on a bib. We were all set for some good, messy fun. I placed the cupcake in a big shallow bowl and set it before the birthday girl.  She touched the frosting with her fingers and then looked at her hand with horror and disgust.  Her next act was to hold her hand out to me, pleading wordlessly to have me clean her fingers.  Once I wiped the frosting off, she refused to even consider the cupcake.  She gave me the same reaction with her birthday cake later that week.

Fast forward to this week, when Ellie celebrated her second birthday on Tuesday.  In honor of this occasion, her grandmother baked chocolate cupcakes with pink frosting and chocolate sprinkles. In an extra-special touch, they were baked into ice cream cones.  Grandma offered one to Ellie, and Ellie practically face-planted into it. She devoured the whole cupcake, pausing only to tear away bits of the ice cream cone with her teeth. I can't wait to see what she'll do with her full birthday cake!

Blame the dog

My daughter learns quickly.

Last night, my husband Jason and I were finishing our dinner.  Ellie and Poe, our daughter and our dog, were playing together under the dining table. This is a pastime they share during dinner because they're both hoping for some tasty tidbits to fall on the floor.  Yes, we really and truly do feed both our dog and our daughter quite well; it's just that they both think that food is better if it falls off Mommy's or Daddy's plate.

At one point I said to Jason, "Does Ellie have a poopy diaper?  Or is it the dog that stinks?"  He answered, "Poe smells pretty bad today.  I don't know what she got into." I nodded and went on with my dinner. 

A few minutes later, I was clearing the table and caught another pungent whiff.  I turned to Ellie and asked her, "Did you poop?"

Our little fast learner immediately pointed to the dog's rear end and said, "Poe!"

The moral of the story: if you've pooped in your pants, it's best to have a dog so you can blame it for the smell.

Math stereotype?

Ellie can count to six, sometimes to seven if she's feeling motivated.  In fact, there are times when I could swear she counts to ten.  I've got to try to capture her on videotape one day, because the way she says her numbers is hilarious.  It comes out something like, "wah, tooo, fee, fou, fy, si, seben, eigh, ny, ten."  

She seems to understand that these words belong in sequence.  When she's counting out items like blocks or raviolis, she'll say, "One, two, four . . . " then she'll frown and say "three" and put that block or ravioli in between items number two and four.

To me, this seems pretty advanced for a not-quite-two year old. I mentioned this developmental oddity to my colleagues.  One woman laughed and said, "At least she's true to the stereotype that Asians are good at math."

Well, maybe. But she knows all her letters, too!