Ella welcomes Annie June! - Stories Page 3

We are sick and tired of being sick and tired. Just two days after her third birthday party, Ella became feverish and developed several cold symptoms. She missed two days of school, and Spencer and I juggled work schedules to take care of our puny girl. The following weekend I got feverish and started coughing and didn't stop until about a week ago. Of course, the second the cough subsided I caught another cold, this time of the stuffy sinuses and runny nose variety. The inside of our medicine cabinet looks like a shrine to expectorants, suppressants, and decongestants. When Spencer caught this bug he talked his doctor into giving him antibiotics - he has to use his voice for work, and coughing loudly into the microphone does not really do anything positive for one's on-air personality - and though I was jealous at the time I feel no envy now; antibiotics did him no good. He is still coughing, still achy, and still exhausted. He has stolen my cough syrup with codeine. And yesterday, about twenty minutes after I picked Ella up from school, someone turned on her nose faucet. We should buy stock in Kleenex. At the birthday party we attended this morning for schoolmate Lukas, I learned that two other kiddos from school could not attend because they were up all night puking. If we are lucky, Ella will just muddle through this cold and not get the stomach flu on top of it. Pray, everyone. Pray hard.

See, not only is this cold and flu season, but this is also birthday party season. Since Ella's gala affair, we have attended two parties and been inducted into the world of "fun center" birthdays. Two weekends ago, when I already had a throbbing headache from being up all night coughing, I had to escort Miss Ella to Chuck E. Cheese for an hour and a half of blaring pop music, shrieking children, and flashing and beeping video games, all presided over by a creepy mechanical rat. Or mouse. Whatever he is. Today we attended a party at the appropriately named, "Going Bonkers." This place was both better and worse than Chuck E. Cheese. It was better because even though there were arcade games upstairs, a lot of the fun to be had was physical. Kids go crazy in this huge indoor playground with bouncy rooms, mazes, slides, and tunnels. But because it is bigger than Chuck E. Cheese, it is a zillion times louder and more crowded.

Ella, of course, loved both of these places, entering them with a look of awe and reverence. She enjoys sliding tokens into slots whether or not she gets how the game works. She delights in zooming down a slide and then wiggling her body around in this funny interpretive dance of her own happiness back over to the stairs so she can slide down again. And I do enjoy seeing her have so much fun. Don't imagine that I'm some curmudgeon mama scowling in the corner, popping the Advil and rolling my eyes at all of the parents feeding their kids junk food and soda. I keep all of that on the inside until I can vent to Spencer later after Ella has fallen asleep. I get that the party is supposed to be fun for Ella and her friends and not necessarily fun for me. My job is to be gracious and thankful to the mom or dad that invited Ella, to keep track of shoes and coats, applaud Ella's gymnastic abilities, make sure she takes potty breaks, and to keep her from choking on tokens or the numerous microscopic plastic trinkets these places seem to hand out right and left. I don't want to upset her by letting her know I sort of loathe these places, but between you and me, I'll be terribly glad when all of these birthdays, like this interminable cold and flu season, are behind us.

During our recent trip to Tortola I was following Ella around the beach and heard her cheerfully declare, "I have to work." She was grabbing handfuls of sand and tossing them in the general direction of the ocean. "What kind of work do you need to do?" I asked her. " Sandy work," she replied. Fair enough.

The nature of our entire family's work is changing this year. Both Ella and I have new schoolwork; I'm learning about cataloging and classification in my evening library school class, and she is practicing tracing letters and numbers at preschool. Just this week Spencer began a new phase of his career, adding a sports talk show to his workday. This new schedule means he doesn't get home until well after 6:00 p.m. , which is changing the nature of my daily work even more: for the first time in approximately 9 years I am now in charge of cooking dinner.

And now I'll ask that all of you feel free to share with me your quick-and-easy weeknight dinner recipes (or your make-ahead and freeze recipes). It has only been four days, but Ella is already a little weary of pasta and frozen vegetables. A coworker recommended I check out Kraft's freebie booklet of recipes that they mail out every couple of months, but Kraft seems to think you can't make anything without zesty Italian dressing, mayonnaise, and processed cheese.

In the middle of all of this change, our sweet Ella is turning three. In the past year she has accomplished so much, learning how to spell her name, recognizing letters, speaking in paragraphs, nearly mastering the potty, and graduating to a big girl bed. She has seen her first baseball game, gone swimming in the ocean for the first time, and spent her first night away from mom and dad. She still makes our hearts swell just the same, though. Especially when she takes our faces in her little hands and says in her sing-songy way, "I love you." We love you, too, sweetie. So much it makes our hearts hurt. Happy birthday!

Season's Greetings from Tortola, Mon!

Photo Sharing - Upload Video - Video Sharing - Share Photos
We are spending Christmas in paradise. Rum punch instead of egg nog, sand and sun instead of snow. The villa in which we are staying has amazing views of Cane Garden Bay, and Ella has been watching the yachts and keeping an eye out for pirates. She absolutely loves the goats and chickens we see on the side of the road, the gecko that is sharing our bedroom, the hammock on our balcony, and eating "al fresco" every night. Her favorite thing, however, is the ocean. She pretty much ran straight in and face-planted in the salt water. We found that the beach at Brewer's Bay has the calmest waves and is shallow for a great distance, so it is perfect for her to paddle around in her inner tube, watching the birds dive-bomb the water for fish. Her parents snorkeled, her aunts and uncles and cousin helped her build sandcastles, and her Grandmoms smothered her with attention. And sunscreen.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Ah, preschool. Ella is learning how to count in Spanish, practicing writing the letters in her name, and developing problem solving skills, like what to do should the older boys threaten to "shoot a fart" at her. (Ella's wise solution is to "run away fast," just in case you are curious.) Preschool also means performances for parents and grandparents, and tonight we attended our first. I came very close to crying when I saw Ella all dressed up like an angel, but mostly I spent the evening cracking up. Little kids are unpredictable and hilarious and heartbreakingly cute. My favorite part of the festivities was when one little girl, Caroline, interrupted the performance to yell, "I love you mom and dad," which caused an outbreak of loving declarations from all of the kiddos. We had a really nice time. And nobody shot farts at us.

At dinner earlier this week Ella ate a big spoonful of peas and declared, "I'm growing!" Yes, we are those sorts of parents who tell children that vegetables will make them grow big and strong. The peas seem to be doing the trick. Right now Ella is wearing Curious George big girl underpants, evidence that she is embracing the potty chair lifestyle. And just as she has embraced the potty chair, she has rejected the high chair in favor of the booster seat at the dinner table.

This week our big girl started going to the preschool across the street from our house. She loves Miss Erlinda and the other children, the converted school bus full of tumbling mats and other gymnastic equipment that visits the school every other week, the teeter totter, the art projects, the songs and the books during circle time. On Wednesday she proudly showed us the construction paper on which she had written her name! Of course the E's have about five or six more stems on them then they should, but the word is definitely recognizable. We are so proud!

It's a potty party around here! An excrement extravaganza! A pee-pee parade! Ella is having a blast in the bathroom, and her parents are experiencing the weirdness of potty training a toddler. Here is an inventory of things in our bathroom that I bet you non-parents don't have in yours:

1. sheets of glow-in-the-dark Halloween stickers (potty incentives);

2. stacks of Dr. Seuss books as well as the pee-pee themed books A Potty for Me and A Potty Book for Girls;

3. one frog-shaped soap dispenser (to encourage post-potty hand washing); and

4. a large stick (I have no idea what this is for - she brought it in from the yard one day and we just haven't gotten rid of it yet).

I also just discovered that somehow there is peanut butter on the door knob. So this is our potty-training life here at home.

Our potty-training life in public is at least providing some comic relief. On a recent Sunday at church Ella was in the stall with me. Her ears perked up, and she asked, "Mama, are you peeing?" What could I say? "Yes," I answered. "I'm so proud of you!!!" she exclaimed, and the woman in the next stall started chuckling.

On an unrelated note (whew, I hear you saying. I know, we talk about the bathroom way too much around here), Ella would like to say congratulations to Cousin Henry and his new wife Dana. We went to Houston last weekend to join in the celebration and give everyone our head colds (sorry, folks). We were only in town for about 36 hours before flying back to Missouri, so to our beloved Texas friends and family who did not even know we were there I say please forgive us for not calling or visiting. Plus, you probably did not want to see us anyway as we would have coughed or wiped our noses on you.

Our little ghost has hit a couple of milestones. First, Ella finally christened her potty. She was quite proud of herself, earned a glow-in-the-dark Pooh sticker and a jelly bean, and got lots of praise from mom and dad. Ever since these first couple of sucesses we have spent an enormous amount of time in the bathroom, reading everything from Horton Hears a Who to "poms" (Ella's word) from Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends. She constantly talks about the potty and asks to sit on it several times a day, but she has only managed to pee in it twice. Still, she has made good progress and seems to be aware of when she is going to the bathroom. Now if she could just realize when she is about to go to the bathroom.

Okay, enough potty talk. On to dinner table talk. Ella has started telling us about her day as we sit at the table eating dinner. Of course, these little anecdotes have no context, so they are often puzzling and always entertaining. An example:

Ella: I'm going to a pumpkin patch tomorrow! (Any date in the future is "tomorrow.")

Ella: (quite emphatically, in that "don't be silly, mama" kind of way she has) No! A hay bale.

It's football season. Ella is excited about the bands, the popcorn, the mascots, the hotdogs, and, of course, the fight songs.

Ella's ability to mimic words and absorb information is pretty astounding, which makes veteran parents' warnings about watching what you say in front of your children completely understandable. We've cut the curse words and gossip, but Ella still hears and learns things we don't realize we are saying or teaching.

For example, Ella loves to pull long strips of toilet paper off of the roll in the bathroom. "Honey," I plead, "don't waste that. Paper comes from trees." Nights later I am slicking her up with lotion after her bath. She sticks her entire hand in the tub and comes out with a fistful of the white stuff. "Honey, please don't take too much. We don't want to waste the lotion." She looks at her hand, cocks her head, and asks, "Does lotion come from trees?"

Photo Sharing - Upload Video - Video Sharing - Share Photos

Funny.

Strike up a conversation with Ella these days and you are likely to get an earful of Disneyworld. Sometimes these stories make sense: "I went on the pirate ride, and pirates say, 'ARRRRRR.'" Sometimes they make me scratch my head: "I rode the monorail all by myself, and that makes me very happy!" I picture Ella toddling off in her flashing Tinkerbell shoes, waving to Spencer over her shoulder and saying, "I'll meet you by Space Mountain at 2:00. Later, pops!"

It's good that Ella is so funny during the daytime because we are struggling with bedtime once again. There are battles over the number of stories to be read and how many and what types of toys she may sleep with, as well as her numerous stalling tactics. "Please sing 'Blackbird' by the Beatles? Please sing 'Row, row, row your boat?' Because I said please! Please I want to hold a drink! Please sing 'Blackbird' by the Beatles again?" Please whack me over the head with a baseball bat and put me out of my misery. But Spencer, in his infinite wisdom, has pointed out that this is A Phase and not The Way Things Will Be From Now On. I tend to lose perspective on these sorts of things when I'm in the middle of them. Spencer is right, of course. Just tonight Ella went to bed without too much of a fuss and without needing to hear the same song twenty million billion times.

So, back to the funny. When something strikes Ella as amusing she often says, "That makes me very funny." And she understands that jokes are supposed to make you laugh, but she doesn't really understand why. Knock-knock jokes are a current favorite. They were a bit difficult at first because as soon as we asked, "Who's there?" she'd stop and look at us like we were idiots and say, "Oh - it's me. Ella." I imagined her adding in her head, "You know, your daughter, the one who has lived in the same house with you for two and a half years? Helloooooooo? Anybody home?" Once she got the basic knock-knock concept down we taught her the one where in response to our "Who's there?" she says, "Boo," and we say, "Boo who?" and she says, "Don't cry - it's only a joke!" But she thinks this punch line works for everything:

Ella: Knock-knock!

Me: Who's there?

E: Chicken!

M: Chicken who?

E: Hey - don't cry! It's only a joke!

Hilarious. We think it's just a matter of weeks before she's ready for the stand-up circuit.

Photo Sharing - Upload Video - Video Sharing

August is zip, zip, zipping right by, and we're just trying to hold on. Ella is proving to be remarkably adaptable and tolerant as we completely screw with her schedule and drag her all over the country. First we spent five days in Indianapolis visiting and reminiscing with my group of girlfriends from high school (Oh, the laughter! Oh, the ice cream! Oh, the champagne!). Then Pop and Grandmother Linda stayed with us for a week, entertaining Ella with trips to the park and the library. And now Ella and Spencer are visiting the Florida Grandmas, gallivanting around Disneyworld in the morning, swimming in the afternoons, and - I hope - napping somewhere in the middle. We also managed to celebrate my 33^rd birthday as well as our 11^th anniversary, and all I can say is holy crap - who pressed the fast forward button?

I swear to you that just a few short weeks ago my unshowered and sleep-deprived self, aching breasts the size of cantaloupes, was sprawled on the couch nursing nursing nursing baby Ella. And now she is almost weaned. I can't believe I'm typing these words. This news will shock some of you for very different reasons. There are those who assumed that I would be standing next to the punch bowl at her junior prom, still offering up the breast milk. And then there are those who had no idea we were still nursing. I'm not going to lecture or list the benefits of extended breastfeeding - you can visit here and here for that. I simply want to mark this moment of transition, to offer up another piece of evidence that she is shedding her babyhood with such incredible speed.

Right before bed is the time when Ella sometimes still asks to nurse. She might say, "You wore that black shirt so I can nurse-nurse!" Or, "You have that striped shirt so I can nurse-nurse!" These assertions always make me laugh. But by the time she has picked out three books, assembled her menagerie of blankets and stuffed animals, and snuggled up on my lap, she often gets so wrapped up in reciting the lines of Duck on a Bike that she forgets to nurse. Or perhaps the idea of nursing is so comforting to her that simply thinking about it is enough.

I like the idea of nursing being a kind of home base that gives Ella confidence to explore her world. She knows that she can always return to the little nest of safety that my lap has become for her, and so she ventures out into her days with confidence and wonder. She flies through the air on the Dumbo ride, squealing with pure joy. She glides through the caves of the Pirates of the Caribbean without fear.

I just received a call from Spencer telling me that he and Ella made it to the airport and are on their way home. Ella spoke to me on the phone (why does her little voice over the airwaves make my heart crack into a million pieces?) and said that she has her own suitcase and is going to fly on an airplane. My little adventurer. I can't wait to see her again, to hold her in my arms, to have her in my lap for a while, and then to let her go.

Photo Sharing - Upload Video - Video Sharing

It's H-O-T here in Missouri . Ella gets sweaty curls and pink cheeks if she goes out to play for even a short while (or, as she says, "a couple while"). These dog days are perfect for trips to the air-conditioned library. Ella wants to read loads of library books morning, noon, and night. Right now she is very into vehicles, so we are reading and rereading Trashy Town - all about trash man Mr. Gilly and his truck - and Choo Choo Clickety Clack. Anything that goes or sails or drives is in this book, and Ella loves it. On the page showing an airplane flying through the air, tiny houses and ant-like cars below, Ella says, "That plane is going to Disneyworld !"

Besides reading indoors, Ella keeps cool by running through the sprinkler. And by shedding her clothes when her mama turns her back for just one itty-bitty second.

As Ella said during dinner last week, "Daddy is big. Mama is big. Ella is small." Very true, Ella bug, but less and less true all of the time. Yes, any firework louder than a sparkler elicits sobs of terror from the poor girl, but she is getting pretty sophisticated in other ways.

Like most kids do, Ella has reached the "do it my ownself" stage in her development. She wants to climb into her high chair and buckle the straps in her car seat without help. And she wants to lend help to mama and daddy, asking to scoop out Cooper's dog food or clean the floor. Just this afternoon she was looking for her broom and told me, "I need my sweep to clean up the hair dog." Okay, so her language skills aren't quite those of an adult, but her memory and logic are still pretty impressive.

Take rocket ships, for example. Over a month ago Ella had her eyes on the evening sky and exclaimed, "There's the moon!" Then, in this melancholy way, she said, "I can't reach it." When Ella says, "I can't" or "I'm too small," it feels like someone is squeezing my heart in their mean fist. Even if she is making a true statement - in fact she cannot reach the moon - I hate for her to doubt herself one bit. So I blurted out, "You could reach it if you had a rocket ship." "Oooooooh," she responded brightly, and seemed to ponder my idea for a while. A week later at Uncle Sam and Aunt Allison's wedding rehearsal, Ella spotted a large plaster flower encircling the chandelier hanging from the chapel's ceiling. She got excited and said, "I need a rocket ship to touch the flower!" Since then she has also told me she needs a rocket ship to visit the sheep we pass on her way home from day care and to touch the tree tops in our backyard.

Another recent sign of Ella shedding her babyhood? Pigtails! I tell you, nothing is cuter than those two curly sprigs on the sides of her head.

The big life changes that happen when you have a child are well documented. The loss of sleep. The not being able to remember the last time you saw the inside of the movie theater or went to the bathroom by yourself. The swelling of your heart like the Grinch's on Christmas morning. So I thought I'd catalog some of the smaller changes that I've noticed lately, the ones no one warned me or told me about.

Bye-bye banana bread. In the pre-Ella days, whenever we bought a bunch of bananas there would always be one or two that got overripe and brown. The freezer was rich in bananas that could on any weekend afternoon be transformed into banana bread. Even if I tried to be conservative at the grocery store and just buy a few, we somehow never managed to eat all of the bananas before they started to turn brown. These days we can't keep bananas in the house. Ella wants one every morning with her breakfast, and it seems she is the trendsetter in our family. We now all eat at least one a day, and we find ourselves at the grocery store mid-week because even though we bought a big bunch on Saturday, they have all disappeared.

The great laundry shift. Our loads of laundry used to be one of three varieties: whites, darks, or mediums (that jeans-y blue and green load). Suddenly we have a big load of colors never found in our closets before - pinks, purples, reds, and bright greens. The floor in the laundry room looks so much more festive and cheery.

She had me at huh-whoa. Words that had no effect on me before now make my heart melt. When I go to Ella's room after she has woken from sleep, she looks at me and says softly, "Hello, mama." But she still pronounces her 'Ls' as 'Ws,' so it sounds like "huh-whoa." So precious, I tell you.

Entertainment is cheap. Ella singing. Ella dancing. Ella saying, "I need a Band-Aid to make me feel better," or handing me paperclip after paperclip and saying each time, "Here's an idea. Here's another idea." Ella jumping around in her duck towel making animal sounds. Who needs cable TV or movie theaters or sleep? We have a one-kiddo show that makes our lives rich and full.

Have an exit strategy. This was Pop's (Grandpa Terry Thompson's) advice when he learned that Ella was to be a flower girl in her Uncle Sam's wedding. As a minister, he has been witness to several mid-ceremony mishaps and tantrums when young children have been involved in weddings. We were worried when on the day of the rehearsal we just could not get Ella to take a nap. By the time we arrived at the church she was incredibly wired, jumping and twirling and chirping out her own little tune while the minister tried to direct groomsmen and bridesmaids and candle lighters through their respective roles. Her little practice trip down the aisle did not ease our fears.

Turns out the old theatre saying is true, thank goodness: bad dress rehearsal, good show. On the afternoon of the wedding I was at the back of the church to send Ella off down the aisle with Katelyn, the other flower girl, and Spencer was at the front to guide Ella to her seat. And sister-in-law Cristi was stationed in the second row, ready to scoop up any freaking-out kiddos. Ella didn't need any of our help. She strolled down the aisle like an old pro, smiling and waving her bouquet at all of her adoring fans. I got pretty choked up at how grown up and beautiful she looked as the light from the high arched windows reflected off of her golden curls and satiny dress.

I managed to keep from crying until Sam and Allison said their vows. They are so young and gorgeous and in love. I'm incredibly grateful for how crazy they are about Ella. Even if she had run down the aisle screaming, "Where is my Elmo????????????" they simply would have been glad to have her participate in the wedding, no matter what her behavior. Luckily, she behaved just as she looked - like an angel.

In spite of napping troubles, we had a pretty good weekend. Ella has lately been in a celebratory mood, wanting every day to be a birthday. "Happy Birthday" is the most requested song at bedtime these days. And not only does Ella request that you sing "Happy Birthday," she says something like (and this is pretty much a direct quote), "Sing happy birthday to mommy and daddy and Ella and Elmo and Silky and my crib and my doors and my butterflies and my room?" Saturday morning she asked if we could go sing "Happy Birthday" to daddy who was still in bed. Spencer enjoyed his little serenade and pulled Ella up into the bed for a hug. "Happy Mother's Day, daddy!" Ella told him.