Category Archives: Livia
So we’ve discovered Lincoln’s “sprayground.” And it rocks. It’s close to downtown, it’s free, it’s free and it’s free. What’s not to love? Check out this little cutie, I’ll call her Twin #1, playing in a fountain.
Next up is Liv. Check out the water toy I’ve given her to play with—clearly, I’ve spared no expense in the summer toy department. (Me, digging in the trunk: “Yeah, I’m sure there’s something you can play with back here. Here take this old cup I found. No, that’s not dirt on the edge. I’m sure it’s clean enough. Go play.”) Livia seems to be eyeing the Bellagio-esque leaping fountains that surprised her with a water-up-the-nose hit on our last visit. I think she avoided that area entirely upon our second sprayground trip.
Here we have Twin #1 accompanied by Twin #2 and Big Sister. They’re playing on these cool space-age seats that spin around really fast. The speed and slipperyness of the seats didn’t faze the twins one bit.
Big Brother. I love the mohawk and the smile—this kid charms me.
Last winter Liv’s dentist predicted our girl would lose her baby teeth soon, at “age five” she said. On Livia’s fifth birthday she worked and worked at that baby tooth, convinced it would fall out that day. This morning a little floss and a damp cloth did the trick! First tooth down, many to go. We’re pretty pumped around here. One of us in particular is eagerly awaiting the Tooth Fairy’s visit tonight!
Elsie (4yrs old): Livia won’t let me be the [garbled word].
Me: The what?
Elsie: The [garbled word].
I’m stumped.
Me: What’s going on, Liv?
Livia (5yrs old): She’s a sickoner. And I’m a sickoner, too.
Me: You are “sickoners?”
Elsie. We’re at the Ariel Hospital.
Livia: Yeah.
Me: At Ariel Hospital?
Elsie: Yeah.
Me: Oh. [pause] We can also call you “patients”.
And then they were back at it again. Two sickoners with no nurse in sight.
Forgive the poor photo, but I can’t resist posting this shot.
Liv has two questions she asks on a regular basis in the strangest, most monotone voice a five year old can muster. The first is, “What’s behind me?” It’s a strange little game she plays where she asks the question, holds absolutely still and waits for you to answer. Go figure.
The second question is, “Where’s the dog?” Asked in the same odd monotone voice, Livia won’t even look around the room. Somehow it’s your responsibility to locate Shiloh and report back. While Jeremy and I have taken to spontaneously and irrationally asking these questions in return, I ask you to refrain from doing so. Liv’s knowledge of my blogging is limited at best. In fact, I think she believes I’m working when I’m, in fact, blogging. So don’t ruin my secret just yet.
Hey, Internet! Where’s the dog?
Liv was a little sick Saturday. Maybe it was a one-two punch from the garage sale and all the sweets she had eaten the day before. Shiloh was either empathetic or also a little worn out, because he, too, lay around the floor much of the day.
Should a photo-happy mama takes advantage of such cuteness? Definitely.
In light of the last post on the frustrations of infertility (thank you, by the way, to everyone who commented), I have to point out that this photo captures the grace of God in my life. He gave me Livia almost five years ago and for that I am a kind of grateful that words can’t accurately describe.
Jeremy and I walked into Jewish Family Service in Omaha about seven years ago in order to get approved for adoption by the state of Nebraska. Our social worker expressed a bit of surprise at my age—and I laugh now thinking of it—because apparently it was a rarity to interview a 24 year old for a homestudy. No kidding! Adoption is usually the second option compared to the first, which is pregnancy. But I praise God that he had prepared my heart for adoption years before, and that he gave me a husband who was willing to adopt as well. I mean really, I cannot imagine my life without Livia Raine. As many times as I say “no” and she says “yes,” as many times as I have to tell her to PUT THE DOG DOWN!, as many times as I stumble mentally to find creative ways to entice/encourage/promote obedience within her, Livia brings unspeakable joy to my heart.
Two years after the homestudy was completed, a baby girl needed a home. After so much wondering of the future (on my part, I don’t know that Jeremy felt the same way), after lots of tears and the greatest doubts of faith I had ever experienced, we received a simple email that sent us well on our way to parenthood. God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good.
Thank you, God, for the joy you have given me.
Happy birthday, dear Livia! Happy birthday to you! May you always love small creatures, chocolate, your parents and Jesus (not in that order). We love you dearly, big five year old.
Hard to believe you were this small at one time. I’ve been getting teary today thinking of how blessed I am to be your mom. God gave us a huge task when he called us to be a family—He is good and has sustained us through the last five years of you!
We’ll love you forever and ever, Livia Raine. Happy birthday.
Love,
Mommy
Internet, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Mucho doggies photos are in your future (which is why Jeremy added a Shiloh category for my blog posts).
Here are the five steps of The Child/Dog Meet-and-Greet.
1) Profound excitement at first glance.
2) Slight anxiety at crazy puppy antics.
3) “Whoa, there.” Mounting distress at crazy puppy antics.
4) Dog calms down.
5) Acceptance is given, love is exchanged, vows of lifelong petting and companionship are uttered.
The End.
That is, the end until tomorrow when I post more photos of Shiloh.
Liv is the kind of kid who chooses to play with pets over other kids. We’ll go to someone’s house to play and if she spies a cat or dog, forget her little buddies! It’s all about the furry creatures. Needless to say, she’s been asking to be a “pet owner” for a l-o-n-g time.
So we decided to get her a small critter for her birthday.
And after rotating through everything from Madagascar hissing cockroaches to rats, we settled on… a dog. We had two specifications in mind. 1) The dog had to be kid-friendly because s/he was going to get a lot of loving from an almost-five year old. 2) The dog needed to be as hypoallergenic as possible since several family members are allergic to pet dander.
Details of our plan fell together quickly this last week and it all culminated in a roadtrip yesterday to pick up our 10 week old Coton de Tulear named Shiloh. We told Livia that Daddy had the day off and we were planning to have a picnic and a few adventures. Halfway through our drive we handed her an early birthday gift. Here is her response:
Now taking it all in…
Sheer delight.
And finally, a Mommy-induced pose.
Livia had a wonderful surprise today in honor of her fifth birthday next week. As you can see, we’re already putting the newest Tredway to work in the yard.
When I get a chance, I’ll post more photos and blog the story of our day.
Like most four year olds, Livia is learning her alphabet and beginning to read. The other day she told Jeremy she wanted something that began with the letter G. (I think it was ginger ale.)
Yesterday Livia wasn’t satisfied with her lunch; apparently, she had other things in mind for eating. I asked her what she wanted and she told me, “Something yummy.”
“Oh yeah? What?” I asked
“Something sweet…” [drawn out pause] “…and it starts with the letter CHOCOLATE!”
By the time she explained, with such a funny little grin on her face, that she wanted chocolate ice cream I was lost in laughter. Most days, and perhaps most hours, I too want something that starts with the letter chocolate.
I’ve surrendered part of my sunny kitchen counter to future hopes of tomatoes and radishes, zinnias and marigolds. It still amazes me that tiny seeds can yield a seedling, and then a large plant with flowers and maybe edible fruits and vegetables. A little moisture, a little sunshine, and there they go, the seedlings unfurl their leaves towards the light. Livia tends to these babies with great care as well and it’s fun to watch her excitement at the new life.
Spring is all about new life. I found myself explaining to Liv the difference between Easter Sunday and our Easter/spring celebrations of bunnies and eggs. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve loosened up about a lot of things, but I still believe it’s very important to teach my child the importance of Christ’s resurrection apart from the hoopla of colorful eggs and chocolate. Some folks do their egg hunts and baskets on the first day of spring to separate the concepts for their children (great idea, by the way). So far we separate them by repeated conversations about Jesus’ death and resurrection—and by holding our egg hunts on a day other than Resurrection Sunday (thanks, Grandma and Grandpa!).
Livia learned the real purpose of the cross as I explained Jesus’ death to her. It’s amazing how the cross has become something we talk about and refer to with casual ease, and yet it was an instrument for a horrific death for criminals in the past. As a Christian, I can see a certain beauty to the cross in the same way I can refer to tomorrow as “Good” Friday. Still, I struggled with sadness as I explained how the Son of God was hung on a cross to die. At times in parenting, you wonder if you’re explaining too much. But Liv grasped the concepts in a very easy way and moved on to laugh out loud at a silly picture of Doubting Thomas pointing at Jesus’ scarred hands. We talk more about Thomas’ gaping mouth now than we do the cross. LOL.
Bring on the bunnies and eggs—we certainly have fun with them. Come Sunday we’ll be celebrating the resurrection of Christ and the truth that our awesome God has conquered sin and death.
World, meet Tobey the Snowman. He was quite a work of art. That is, until the sun finally made a puddle out of him.
Livia is the Master Name Giver. Not only does she give names to every doll, animal and snowman within arm’s length, she also remembers the names. Really, she should be writing this blog post as I can’t remember half of the names she’s assigned.
There’s the quintuplets: Nanny, Bobby, Jon, Violet and Strawberry. (Bobby and Jon are twins—Liv knows which is which based on a mud spot on one twins’ arm.) There are the Care Bears, both of whom earned cherished spots in Livia’s bed last night: Hammy and [first mommy memory lapse]. There are numerous others… Hamsty and Elsie, Paris and Luce the Bunny, Dorothy the female Betta fish and Nectar the neighborhood cat. Liv also gave names to Renae’s pregnant tummy prior to Simon’s arrival. There was Big Teeth if it was a girl, and Gooper for a boy. When I told her that Aunt Kristin is going to have a baby boy, her first question was, “What’s his name?” I explained that Adam and Kristin hadn’t picked one out yet and she piped up with, “I can help!” I bet you can, kid.
Of all the names Livia has assigned, Tobey is one most frequently given. For those who don’t know the real life Tobey, he’s our pastor and friend—and apparently Livia appreciates him so much she named a blond Barbie after him last summer. Tobey, native of New Jersey, meet your namesake Tobey, Barbie doll. Since that point, we’ve enjoyed numerous other Tobeys in the Tredway household… Tobey the toy pig, Tobey the caterpillar artwork from preschool, and finally Tobey the snowman.
If Flickr cooperates, I’ll post a pic of the real-life Tobey for some side-by-side snowman comparison. ; )
Step 1: Find the park in question. This usually involves Mommy driving around previously unknown neighborhoods in Lincoln, Nebraska, saying things like, “No, we’re not lost. I’m sure that park is here somewhere. Let’s drive around the block again.”
Step 2: Let child loose in park. Eagle eyes, with the help of given clue, will eventually spot the post.
Step 3: Take rubbing of aforementioned post. This part gets a little tricky when Mommy tries to take pictures at the same time.
Step 4 (opt): Since camera is present, make child stand by post. Smile in amusement when four year old holds up the rubbing to complete the perfectly posed moment. Wonder when she learned to pose like this.
Step 5: Take advantage of God’s creation and the beautiful weather and climb a tree. Notice powdered sugar still caked around child’s lips. Be overwhelmed with Mommy Love for this little face, powdered sugar and all.
Step 6: Take advantage of the man-made playground and put imaginations to work. Socks should be removed in order to climb up slides from the ground.
Step 7: Rinse and repeat a bazillion times in the different parks of Lincoln, Nebraska.
Yesterday we had gorgeous 60 degree weather—perfect weather to take the kids to the park. And just so everyone knows, that second kid pictured actually belongs to Renae. (Simon tends to show up here from time to time simply because of our close proximity as neighbors and dear friends.)
Once again our family is participating in the Lincoln Safari, whose motto is “Healthy Families Play Outside!” The Safari is something of an introduction to our hometown as it has us visiting parks and various locations we’ve never seen before. Yesterday I took my decidedly unhealthy child to two neighborhood parks in north Lincoln. The second park involved quite a walk and I questioned my sanity—and wondered whether I could haul my 45 lb child back to the car if she was totally pooped out. But our imaginations helped us out as we became great adventurers and braved a raging river (an empty culvert) and explored some magic trees (evergreen). Liv never protested the walk and we had a great afternoon outside.
A few days ago Livia told me she wanted to turn her bath water brown. (Yeah, you mamas out there know exactly what I was thinking.) I quickly warned her, “Don’t poop in the tub!” and thought all was well. A few moments later I returned to her side to realize she had dumped out my entire glassful of Diet Dr. Pepper, ice cubes and all, into the tub. Diet Dr. Pepper = brown, and yes, the water was colored momentarily. Good grief.
*****
Like I’ve said before, Livia is my favorite English Language Learner and I love how she is making sense of our world. Jeremy showed Liv the cave episode from the Planet Earth series and from that exposure, Livia later spoke of the man who jumped into the cave wearing a “pair-of-shoes.” Parachute does sound like pair of shoes, doesn’t it?!
Also, I tend to speak in hyperboles and figures of speech, which causes problems for ELL folks. I told Livia she grew a foot in the past few months—and then watched her seriously exam her socks.
Finally, we got a kick out of Livia’s exaggerated statement today, “Boy, am I parched!” Nope, she didn’t know what the word meant, but she did know she was quoting a character from Madagascar 2. My girl learns quickly, though, and after being taught one time, she remembers the correct meanings of words and phrases. Odd how that skill doesn’t apply to putting things in her mouth or yelling across the house… Hm.
Last year was the first time Livia handed out little Valentines cards to her classmates. It was so darn cute to see the teeny Incredibles cards and envelopes we found at Target. She received a few really creative handmade items last year as well—and I was inspired to make something at home this year. So before we get too far from V-Day, here’s some of the craftiness we came up with this year. (Next year I’d like to try hanging hearts and heart-shaped pancakes.)
The recipe for shortbread hearts can be found on Needs More Butter, our community dinner recipe blog.
I took the ruler idea from the Family Fun website, which has quite a few cute V-Day card options. Since Livia was sick and missed the Valentines party at school, I just might be able to make this sweet gift come together for her teacher as a belated Valentine.
**I should point out that finding six-inch rulers is far more challenging than it should be. If you think ahead and order online, you should be fine. If you want to be like me, I recommend buying four rulers from Hobby Lobby, then driving to Target, Michaels and ShopKo before returning to Hobby Lobby and giving up your perfectionism just a small bit in order to buy five more (gasp!) non-matching six-inch rulers. I ended up thinking about a certain preschooler’s Valentines far more than any adult ever should. Don’t be like me; buy online.
After a visit with the wonderful Dr. Brad this morning we’re treating Livia for acid reflux. The poor kiddo has been complaining of tummy aches for some time now. In light of today’s diagnosis, I’ll post this Livia-ism for posterity.
Heard last night, after reading a bedtime story about lambs: The puke just scampered up my throat, Mommy. But it’s okay. I swallowed it.
Cinderella paid a visit to my kitchen recently. She wears the most glamorous shoes, a darling blue dress and a hat that sparkles in the sun. Cinderella was a bit shorter than I had expected, but every bit as lovely as she appears on film.
I couldn’t help but post two photos today. The first was an easy pick… I like the way the snapshot is framed and I like the all the bright clothing colors in the white snow. The second photo? Well, I couldn’t pass up posting it here. It is so very Livia. Not one to spare a moment for great drama, Liv is caught here in the moment before letting out a shriek to wake the dead. She got, are you ready for this?, SNOW on her FACE. COLD snow. VERY COLD snow. Yes yes, she had been playing in 7 degree weather for close to 20 minutes and nope, that totally wasn’t any issue. But the COLDNESS of the snow on her FACE caused great anguish, now heard by all residents within one square mile, and that ended our play outside.
Fine with me. I wasn’t thrilled with the cold either.
Sometimes it’s not the best photo you post. It’s the one that captures a memory you don’t want to forget.
My daughter at age four. Her determined jaw and curling tendrils of hair. The fact that she’s snipping cubes of paper even though we started cutting strips for paper chains. Her still-chubby fingers learning to twist the paper just so, then wrap small pieces of sticky tape around them. Her sweetness in crafting with mom, and wanting songs for bedtime, even though it meant going to bed right away rather than staying up late for more play.
Sometimes a photo is so much more than a picture.
When real life and Kung Fu Panda play meet:
Jeremy: Do you need to go potty, Shifu?
Shifu-Livia: I might. But my kung-fu bladder’s not full.
On Mondays, dance days, I try to keep you down and low-key as long as possible in the afternoon. Today you watch a Sesame Street video while silently sucking your fingers beside me. I try to sleep and feel like I could drift away into hours of rest.
Half an hour before class I rouse you from your dream-watching, enticing you to full awake status with brand new dance tights and a long-sleeved black leotard. You are alert almost immediately and jump eagerly on my bed while I attempt to catch your active toes in the sleeves of white. You pause only momentarily to point your toes—dancers know how to do that after all—then lose all focus with your giddy excitement. The tights are up, the leotard squeezed into and the hunt begins for your ballet slippers. We run to the kitchen for a quick snack of chips and juice, dinner will have to wait until after the oddly meal-timed class is over. You spill the small bowl, I envision cheese powder all over your outfit and give a warning to be careful. Hair pulled up into a bun on the top of your head, bright pink clip in place. You slip on your sneakers, take one last gulp of juice and out the door we go. Without ballet slippers. Once I’ve run back in to get them, we’re on our way across the street and down the block to the old brick building at 8th & D Streets. You bend to the sidewalk and pick up a wrinkled leaf, spotted with caterpillar eggs. It is my treasure to hold and save while you’re at dance. Before we even walk in I know we’ll be greeted by tired moms waiting on the stairs, young toddlers with sticky faces climbing and playing and grabbing legs. We greet our friends, you telling me how much you LOVE Pete and Elsie, and I pull up your tights one final time.
The door opens. You walk in with the others, ready for class to begin. I give one final admonition to be a “good girl” and you nodded with affirmation, as though you never would consider behaving otherwise.
In less than 45 minutes you’ll be at my side again, walking home hand in hand, my adorable ballerina girl. I love you now and forever.
(This is my snapshot of Livia at age 4.)
Me: And you were reading your Bible this morning because why?
Liv: I want Winnie to stop biting me.
Me: How was reading the Bible going to solve that issue?
Livia: God gonna speak to that dog.
****************************************
The conversation above came after Jeremy found Liv in bed reading her little pink Bible. She had gotten sick in the night and this morning I told her to stay in bed until I had brought her a drink. While I was downstairs, Liv was reading her Bible to figure out right and wrong. She said that the next time Winnie is sick, Livia will read the Bible to her—apparently to teach the wee dog that biting is wrong. My favorite line, though, is “God gonna speak to that dog.” Love. it.
I realize that I’ve been burning the candle at both ends recently, running back and forth between various responsibilities without much pause for reflection or rejuvenation. I was beginning to treat every activity as an obligation… not a great way to live and definitely not a way to enjoy life! On the heels of the realization comes some small stomach virus that has Liv laid up in bed and me kept at home on a sunny and cold Friday. And you know what? I’m thoroughly enjoying the day. My calendar is cleared, we’ve got groceries in the cupboards, and I have an excuse to go slow.
Most enjoyable of all was thirty minutes of reading Little House in the Big Woods to my daughter. Livia laughed at the story of Pa playing Mad Dog with his daughters, and urged me to keep reading the chapter on Christmas. I love connecting her to a series of books that has brought me so much pleasure over the years.
Livia, with great enthusiasm: Why the moon didn’t eat his lunch?
[grand pause]
Jeremy & Rebecca: I don’t know. Why?
Livia: You supposed to laugh!
Jeremy: You have to finish the joke first!
Liv, still with great enthusiasm: Oh… Why the moon didn’t eat his lunch?
Jeremy & Rebecca: I don’t know. Why?
Liv: Because he a FULL MOON!
[great laughter]
Thanks, Pastor Keith, for teaching our daughter about humor. She learns more than Bible verses when she goes to AWANA.
Charity has her word of the year. Livia has her word of the year, too:
Lightricity.
As in, “Wow, look at that ceiling fan with six bulbs. It must use a lot of lightricity!”
Very smart, my girl.
I’ve noticed that mothers like photos of their children that others may not understand. I am no exception. There are other shots in this series that are easier to like, but I absolutely love this one. Livia has an air about her, a tousled-hair-tired-kid expression that makes me look at her in a new way. I snapped this shot 18 months ago on Father’s Day (note the tattoos) when Livia was, apparently, all tuckered out.
Liv keeps talking about how we’re going to “SLICE THEM UP.”
And then I have to remind myself about the Pumpkin Carving we’re hosting tonight.
Slice ‘em, dice ‘em, cut ‘em up. Let’s do it.
I spent a little time last week photographing aspects of our garden, all the while aware that the colors would soon be fading under the cool Nebraska nights. It’s been a really mild autumn so far and I can’t remember the last year our garden and lawn looked so vibrant for so long. As a final farewell to warm temps (it’s high time, the water in the birdbath was frozen solid this morning), I present a few pics from Prairie Box Gardens 2008.
Last up, a few shots of butterflies. Livia has retained a “pet” butterfly, grasshopper or caterpillar for most of the warm months. She doesn’t catch her prey, er pets, though; that’s a job for mom, dad or grandma. So if you drive by and see one of us looking like a total goofball, running around the yard, arms furiously swiping an empty butterfly net in the air, just know that we love this four year old very much. There is some strategy involved in netting a butterfly. I hope I remember how to do it right next year.
These aren’t the best butterfly shots I took, but I think they’re the most interesting. The head-on angle is my favorite—look at the insect’s pug-nosed appearance. Note the fuzzy back and the fact that we do feed our pets well. I want to always remember Four Year Old Liv as a girl who loved bugs and spending time outdoors, dirty fingernails and all.
The sweetest sound in the world is hearing your child go to the bathroom all by herself. No “Mom, I need to potty!” or anything. Praise Jesus, my child is potty-trained.
I knew Liv was playing with water this morning, I just didn’t care. That is, I didn’t care until I heard about five water sloshes in a row. Then I turned my attention to my four year old and began walking toward the noise.
Me: What did you do in here, Livia? Spray a hose around the dining room?
Liv: No. [pause] I was feeding and baptizing my babies.
And that, my friends, was the end of water play at the Tredways on a Wednesday morning. Good thing all our baby dolls have now received the sign and seal of the new covenant.
Livia attended Elsie’s Wizard of Oz theme party last weekend. I wasn’t sure about creating a decent costume, but Renae told me how to put together a little scarecrow outfit and voila! There’s Liv in all her scarecrow-y glory. The kids at the party were super cute. There were lots of Dorothys and Glindas, another Scarecrow made an appearance and Toto was adorable with a collar and little pigtails. I wish I had snapped photos of all the work Amanda put into this gathering… There was a yellow brick road welcoming guests in the driveway, complete with the dead Wicked Witch’s legs poking out from underneath a playhouse. Each platter of food was labeled with a creative title and the cake was decorated to match the theme as well. There were millions of people there and perhaps even billions of children under seven years old and Amanda smiled her way through the whole event, looking as cool and calm a hostess you could imagine. The thought of entertaining those billions of young children makes me go into a cold sweat, but I know enough to appreciate all the work Amanda did for this amazing party. Well done, friend!
Livia hasn’t seen the The Wizard of Oz yet (perhaps due to all the nightmares this movie produced during her mother’s childhood), so I explained the story en route to the party. After learning that Dorothy is from Kansas—”We have that in common!”—Livia sighed, “I love Dorothy.” I stumbled as I tried to explain that she couldn’t love Dorothy because she didn’t know her, Dorothy’s imaginary, blah blah blah. And Liv replied, “Yes I do know her. You just told me about her!” Right you are, perceptive little one.
Later that night, Liv went on and on about “switches.” I figured she was talking about lights. But it was Jeremy who finally realized she was talking about Glinda and The Wicked One of the West. You add that to the “fire chip” title she gave nacho cheese Doritos and you have one amused mommy. I love this four year old and her grasp of the English language.
Slide Number One was fun so Grandma and Liv go back for more.
Slide Number Two? Hm. Not so sure about that one. (See the larger Flickr pic to get the full effect.) I don’t recall my mom-in-law going down again. Apparently they don’t make slides like they used to! Now you need to see a chiropractor after attempting the neighborhood slides…
Livia has been pretty expressive today. My girl wears her heart on her sleeve for the most part—if something bothers her you can definitely tell. If she’s unresponsive, then usually it means that she’s not bothered. She’s fairly straightforward, which is kind of nice.
After school she told me that a classmate didn’t like her. After verbally prodding a bit, I found out that this kid kept physically moving away from Livia, so Liv went to her teacher and said she (Liv) was angry. Apparently things ended well because Livia smiled at the other child. As a big Feeler, I admit being a bit hurt that anyone would not like my child, however I’m proud of Livia for the way she handled her emotions (at least in her telling of it. Who knows how the real event went down?).
Then later, while I was getting my hair cut, Liv told me that a grey-haired man in the waiting area had sad eyes. I tried to shush her a bit so that the sad-eyed man (she referred to him again that way as we walked out the door) wouldn’t hear our conversation.
Finally, after community dinner Livia had some sort of expectation that she could type on Jason’s computer. I knew this was not a possibility as he was working on it at the time. She came down from his office and told Renae and me she was disappointed that couldn’t type.
I’d swear Sesame Street was having Describe Your Emotions Week—but we don’t get PBS anymore so that can’t be it. Liv’s just in-tune with her emotions, I guess. For the record, she wasn’t a big Eeyore today. She was excited to play with Polly Pocket this morning and giddy at the new face paint we bought this afternoon. She has strong emotions, but she’s also well-rounded in her expression of them. LOL.
Last January this tiny dancer was forced into being a dance class dropout. “Sitting in other mommies’ laps” was not deemed a good use of our tuition money, so Jeremy and I agreed to pull her out. We’re all about the no-pressure approach with extra curricular activities. Fast forward to September and the tiny dancer was again asking to take dance with JoJo.
It took a little more convincing on my part, a little social pressure if you will. Livia and I happened to be in the building on the first day of dance. And it just so happened that we were in the hallway when, one after another, her little friends entered the building. And one after another, the mothers asked if we were there for dance classes. One phone call to the Guy in Charge (aka Jeremy), one run home for dance paraphernalia, and one signed check later and Livia found herself in the presence of other tiny dancers. What a delight.
Livia said some things tonight that were hurtful to me as a mother. Frankly, I didn’t think I’d hear things like that until she was 14 or so, but perhaps I should have known better considering her strong will. Whenever I’m thrown into a new situation parenting-wise, it always takes me awhile to figure out an appropriate response. Do I discipline for this? If so, how? Do I simply ignore this behavior? Do I give an explanation and a warning this time around? I was actually taken aback by what Liv said and had to stop to consider how very little she understood the implications of her words. (For those of you who are curious, her comments related to adoption.)
After thinking about our little situation that had potential to brew into something very unlovely, I realized, Hey! I’m the parent here! I’m in charge, not this pint-sized punkin. Livia is a child, she doesn’t know what I know and understand what I understand. It’s my job to act like, speak like, and protect her like an adult.
I felt incredibly God-ordained in my role in that moment. Even more than that, I felt like I understood just the smallest bit of what God feels for us, his children. How many times have I turned away from his love? Over and over and over. How many times have I thought, spoken or acted in ways that were dishonoring to him? How often do I say ridiculous things that distort truth? All. the. time. God stands over me, in his infinite wisdom and love, and is as steady as a rock. He doesn’t change like the shifting shadows (James 1:17). He doesn’t treat me in the way I deserve to be treated when I’m foolish and childish, but extends limitless compassion and grace to me (Psalm 103:8-10). His love is steadfast and never ceases (Lamentations 3:22).
As I was considering all this tonight I was reminded about something great and wonderful today, something I almost forgot about. At lunchtime I needed to take Livia to preschool and run a few other errands. But I’ve been feeling super crappy with a bronchial infection and emotionally I wasn’t doing so well. Once we were loaded in the car I started crying in frustration. After a few minutes, Livia began to pray out loud: “Dear God, please take care of Mommy and heal her cold…” I can’t remember the rest of the prayer. I just know I was impressed by her sensitivity and the fact that she knew she could turn to God in spontaneous prayer, that God would take care of these problems.
Thank you, God, for loving us so incredibly—you have given us blessings we do not deserve. Thank you especially for Jesus, who died on the cross so that we, who are so childish and full of selfishness, can spend eternity with you. Help me to be more like you, to love my child the way you love me.
My parents’ apple tree is in full production mode and its limbs are heavy with fruit. Apparently, the tree needed a sturdy trimming last year in order to be this fruitful. We are glad to be recipients of baskets and bagfuls of these tart green apples—and Livia is thrilled to experience apple farm outings in her own Nana and Papa’s front yard!
I plan to make apple butter in the crockpot soon. I made some applesauce as well which didn’t turn out so great. That’s what I get for “winging it” and forgoing all recipes. Gloppy, sticky applesauce. It smelled great and tasted fine, but I can’t say I want to eat it a week later (texture is key!). I am thoroughly enjoying the new Zion Cookbook however and decided to cook up Karen Hunt’s apple muffins. This is the part where I have to eat my words. I’ve told many friends in the past that I DON’T LIKE muffins. (I think I wrote it on the blog, too.) Well, guess what. I made Karen’s apple muffins and they were delicious. Yum-o. Tasted great. So scratch my old prejudice against muffins. New days of muffin-y goodness awaits the Tredway household.
For the record, the new Zion Cookbook rocks. It has a lot more recipes than the old one and has breathed new life into my kitchen. If you’d like one but don’t attend Zion or Redeemer, you can send me an email (). Cookbooks are $15 and I imagine you’d need to include something extra for shipping and handling. Without further ado, I present the recipe for Apple Muffins.
Muffin
- 2 C flour
- 3 t baking powder
- 1/2 C sugar
- 1/2 t salt
- 3 T shortening
- 1 egg, beaten
- 3/4 C milk
- 1 t vanilla
- 1 C apples, peeled & chopped
Preheat oven to 400. Sift together flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. Cut in shortening; set aside. Combine eggs and milk. Add to flour mixture, mix until flour is just moistened. Fold in apples. Fill greased or paper-lined muffin tins half full.
Crunch topping
- 1/3 C brown sugar
- 1/2 t cinnamon
- 1/3 C nuts (opt)
Combine topping mixture. Sprinkle over muffin batter. Bake for 25 minutes.
(Oh, that title’s a groaner. Sorry, couldn’t help it.)
Someday I will blog again. Someday I’ll write a blog post that’s longer than two sentences. But for now, there are two crazy Tredways awaiting me downstairs and movie night will soon commence. Also, it should be noted that my computer is on the outs again (so moody! or perhaps it has seasonal allergies) and I have little tolerance for the slow pace of our old iMac. But truly, I want to blog more. We’ll see about that.
If you’re patient and can wade through the following photos, then you’ll be rewarded with my Aunt Ruthie’s chocolate chip cookie recipe. She recorded it for me on an old grocery list and the title read exactly as it’s listed above. I’ve made the cookies so many times in the last few weeks that I could do without them for some time (and that’s saying something because I love me some cookies).
Prior to becoming a mother I romanticized the notion of cooking with my small child. What I didn’t foresee was the reality of kid fingers double-dipping in the dough, a little mouth eating straight from the mixing bowl when Mommy’s back was turned, and copious amounts of flour dusting the kitchen floor. Note to future mothers: cooking with your child also takes a lot more time than cooking by yourself! However, when Liv and I do cook together, I’m always rewarded by two things. One, the chance for a decent photo opp. And two, the opportunity for me to get better, with clear boundaries and more patience, at instructing and oftentimes disciplining my child. Apparently human beings aren’t born with the knowledge that they should never double dip! Imagine that.
After lots of baking with Liv by my side, I learned that she likes flour. Here’s my little helper with her very own pile:
And here’s my little helper patting it into just the right shape for…
licking off the counter.
Now, doesn’t that look yummy? I mean really, who WOULD’NT want to eat straight flour?
Ah, my goofy girl. And just so you know, I’m sparing you the photos with Liv’s tongue stuck out. She’s into that kind of thing these days, the tongue-sticking out thing. Will that phase be ending anytime soon?
You’ve been patient. So without further ado, I give you my Aunt Ruthie’s cookie recipe.
The Best Chocolate Chip Cookies EVER
Ingredients
- 4 eggs
- 2 C brown sugar
- 2 C white sugar
- 1.5 C Crisco
- 1 t baking soda
- 2 t salt
- 3 t baking powder
- 4 t vanilla
- 4 C flour
Steps
- Preheat oven to 350.
- Mix ingredients.
- Stir in 1 package chocolate chips.
Notes
- For the best chocolate chocolate chips, add one large package of instant chocolate pudding mix.
- This recipe makes a lot of dough! You can roll the extra dough into foil and freeze until you need it.
- One more thing. If you’re using large eggs, add another half cup of flour to the dough.
- Want to know how long to bake the cookies? I had to guess on this one. It’s approximately 10 minutes, mas o menos.
- Aunt Ruthie, I hope you don’t mind me sharing your recipe with the world…
When one leaves a dirty training toilet on one’s back porch, then one should not be surprised when it gets used.
In the broad daylight.
By a particular four year old.
Who then said, “I just teasing, Mom.”
Clearly, someone needs to put that potty away.
God made kid faces irresistible so parents couldn’t stay mad for, oh, say tantrums in Walmart, too long.
I love my summer kid. Wet from the sprinkler, shiny face turned upwards to me, echoes of “you’re the best mom!” from dinner the other night playing in my head. I know every parent thinks their kid is the best… But Livia, you rock. I love you, sweets.
Speaking of quiet time (see comments from yesterday’s post). After quiet time a few days ago, I walked into Liv’s room and discovered her in this exact position. Ninety degree + humidity weather is no time for tight-wearing, but Livia had discovered the basket full of socks on her dresser—and used the bear pillow pictured to reach said basket—and tight-wearing she was. I think I initially said something like, “Oh. Nice outfit!” and then she pointed to the black tights on her head and told me that they didn’t fit. I wanted to point out that the white tights didn’t fit either (the crotch was at her knees when she stood up) and that her solution for the black tights was perfect, but I was so delighted by her getup that I grabbed my camera and called Jeremy in instead.
I love the way little kids dress. LOVE it. As a parent, it’s fun to step out of the way and let your kid get creative.
This is my favorite shot from the Sunken Gardens. I love the contrast of Liv’s modern flip flop against the ancient looking stone bench. Her little foot in this photo, complete with patriotic toenails by Mrs. Wittmann, will always remind me of the summer when she was four.
While we wait and pray for an addition to our family, Liv takes full advantage of playing big sister to her cousin and baby neighbor. We loved having Madeleine around all last week. It was fun to see the girls play together and encourage one another; they also squabbled like siblings if one accidentally, or purposefully, touched another. Simon, or Bugaboo as Liv calls him, has become a big baby now. His days in the NICU seem almost like a dream that never really occurred.
Today around 2:30pm I asked Jeremy if he could remember what we were doing four years ago, almost to the minute. He paused for a second, then yelled, “OH YEAH!” and took a flying leap to tickle-wrestle his favorite four year old on the couch.
Four years ago we walked into a split-level home in Kansas and became parents. We took in our arms a tiny baby girl, who felt quite foreign to us in that moment, and became forever attached to the family who birthed her and cherished her for the previous seven weeks. That afternoon we drove away feeling more rich, more blessed, and to be honest, more terrified than ever.
Happy Livia Day to Miss Livia Raine! We love you and are proud of you, our sweet girl.
Liv’s VBS photo
It occurred to me recently that I haven’t been doing much to teach Liv in an academic sense. She attended preschool last year—incredibly helpful and instructional—but I wanted to do more organized activities with her this summer. The true challenge, at least in my head, was whether I would make a worthy instructor. This, my friends, is a ridiculous challenge because my child performs for no man. She has read precisely one word (she sight read “book” back in January) and only recites the alphabet on random occasions. In fact, if you ask her what comes after E-F-G-H-I, she’ll say with a laugh, “joe” or “blueberry,” just to be funny. We discovered she could count to 20 last week while going for a walk on the University campus. Who knew?! She counts!
Enter thematic units. The idea was to create a week’s worth of activities around a central theme and incorporate math, reading, science, etc. The one week we’ve accomplished so far is Strawberry Week. It might be the only one we do the entire summer, but I hope I persevere and carry out a few more units before all is said and done. Liv and I spent time making a Strawberry Pretzel Salad the first day, then followed it up by a craft project the next. We thumbed through a book all about berries during the 2 hour+ of tornado warnings on evening, and then painted old t-shirts with strawberries the day after. The highlight of the week was a trip to Roca Berry Farm where we picked a large flat full of delightful and delicious berries—and Livia sampled half the number she picked. Only in this present day of germ phobia would one hear a child say (while pointing at mine), “Mom, LOOK! She’s eating the strawberries and they haven’t been washed!” Poor kid. He was probably the only child that day who wasn’t munching in the fields!
I suppose Strawberry Week still lives on. I finally made strawberry ice cream tonight, my first homemade batch of the summer, and it was all the more sweet because Liv and I made a fun memory together two weeks ago.
Apparently, the commenting folks who read my blog are a squeamish crowd. Geesh! For those of you shuddering at the thought of our little rotten snake egg, here’s a different set of pictures. Of my daughter. Because that’s what I do here on the Prairie Box. (Because really, that’s what I do in life.)
I gave Liv the choice of new shoes or new sunglasses, so please note the shiny pink shades she’s sporting in the following pic. Also, note the pose. I have no idea where the pose came from or why she suddenly started modeling, but sure, why not.
Perhaps it says something about the sheer flatness of my city because, when I was shooting this photo, I thought our view was magnificent. Sixth floor of a hospital and look! Wowee, the beautiful state capitol building! Struck by the grandeur of the capitol in the skyline (mock away, I’m fine with that), I oohed and aahed to Livia: Look! What do you see?
Her reply: Blockbuster!
Times visited: State Capitol, 0. Blockbuster, 10 million.
Last night, after being pulled from her warm bed and taken to the basement, Liv asks, “Is there a tormado outside?” She was listening to the radio along with us and seemed to accept that no tornados were outside our house, that they were closer to WalMart (a landmark she knows!). There was something about her sweet face turned up toward mine, asking about “tormados,” that made me want to protect her forever and ever.
While driving through Runza’s drive-thru window, Livia blurts, “Mom, you FREAKED me out!” After a few minutes of probing I find that the confusion between me and the cashier over “one chocolate in a cup, one chocolate cone and one swirl cone” about put Liv over the edge. What would this world have come to if my girl didn’t get her chocolate cone as ordered? (I’ll admit, the lack of chocolate sometimes freaks me out, too.)
Not once, but twice yesterday Livia asked loudly, “Who’s Frank?” It was the oddest question, completely unrelated to our previous conversation as far as I could tell. Can anyone tell me, “WHO’S FRANK?”
Apparently, Crazy-Eyed Smiles start when one turns four.
This final pic shows my mini-zookeeper at work. Around the goat pen there are moms coaxing their children to feed the goats then keep moving. Afterall, the rest of the zoo is awaiting. But my little zookeeper had other plans, so I settled on a bench with my camera, cell phone and imagination. Livia loves animals and insects. Sometimes I wonder if she’ll grow up to be an entomologist.
While eating breakfast, I thought I heard Livia say, “Nasty!” while shaking her finger. (Don’t worry, Mom, it’s not what you think it is.)
Me: What’s bothering you?
Liv: The Rice Krispie. [pause] It’s MASTY.
Me: Masty, eh?
God help me, I know I should correct her, but I can’t help it. I’ll just giggle now and let Jeremy straighten her out.
*********************
A few days ago Livia and I enjoyed ice cream on the front porch while Jeremy was gardening out back. We heard a monstrous sneeze over the roof of the house to which Livia replied, “Bless you, Daddy!” We heard back: “Thank you, Liv!”
Me: How did you know that was Daddy?
Liv, after thinking for a moment: Because I love him.
*********************
Finally, though I thought I was simply being thorough, Livia accused me of being too “wough” while washing her hair. So if my child’s head stinks a bit in coming days, please know I’m just trying to avoid being labeled as “wough.” I want to be known as a gentle mom.
Happy birthday, big girl! May you always have enough hats to keep the bees out of your hair(!), may you continue to make your mom and dad laugh a whole lot, and may the Lord bless you and keep you always.
We love you more than you can imagine, Livia Raine. Happy 4th birthday!
**Friends, if you have a Livia memory or story to share, I’d love to have them posted here for Liv to read later in life.
Livia attended her first Husker football game last week. I thought it was pretty cool and, of course, I thought my kid looked pretty cute. Check out Scowly Guy down the row. He didn’t seem to think my wiggly three year old was all that cute.
I can admit I’m a social football fan. Feed me nachos, a slice of pizza or a Fairbury hot dog and I can sit still… for the first half.
I really go to the games because I enjoy the time with my Dad, and the rest of the state of Nebraska. For you non-Nebraskans out there (poor you!), Memorial Stadium becomes the third largest city in the state on game days. We’re fiercely loyal to our college football team because, well, there’s nothing else to do in this state. Football is our thing.
As socially interested as I am in Husker games, I’ve recently been educated somewhat on the actual rules of the sport. Thank you, Friday Night Lights! So now, instead of wondering about what’s going on in the midst of all those players, I just think of Matt Saracen and Tim Riggins (ahem) and it’s all crystal clear. Or maybe not so much.
One thing I know is true: There is no place like Memoral Stadium on game day. The crowd, the noise, the excitement; I love it.
Apparently, along with her Papa, Livia watched some program with a depressed main character. Three times on the drive home that night I heard my three year old say, “I’ve got THE BLUES.” It was kind of late at night, so I asked her what having the blues meant.
Livia: It means I’m sad.
Me: Why are you sad?
Livia: I so tired.
Me: Alrighty.
My child is still my favorite English Language Learner…
Liv: Mom, what my new jammies called?
Me: Nightgown?
Liv: Oh yeah. Nightgown.
Jeremy to Liv: You’re such a kidder!
Livia: What “kidder” mean?
And then I got a kick out of this conversation yesterday…
Jeremy: If you do [naughty behavior], then I’ll have to take away your favorite toy.
Livia: My favorite toy?
Jeremy: Yes, your favorite toy.
Livia: [thinks hard] You mean Baby Soap?
Jeremy: [working hard to keep from laughing] Yup, Baby Soap.
I’m preparing to share our story of adoption with a group of women Saturday and the reminiscing has been quite something. It’s given me great joy and respect for Liv’s birth family who keeps in touch with us still. It’s reminded me of God’s amazing and incredible and very detailed grace that provided for us every step of the way during the time leading up to our adoption of Livia. I’ve been encouraged once again by the unending support we found in friends and loved ones, and I’m completely overwhelmed once again by all the nitty-gritty pieces of information that had to fit together to make the adoption happen. I’m full of praise for the God who created my beautiful little girl, and I rejoice that she sleeps peacefully in her yellow bedroom just a few feet from where I type.
As I share our story, I can’t help but look forward and wonder what God is preparing for our future. We would love to have more children. For now, we pray and wait. Just like we prayed and waited four years ago.
Livia’s been entertained for an extraordinary amount of time by her basket full of dyed eggs. Sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, she’s been coddling them and whispering sweet nothings to her “baby birds.” Knowing the potential pitfalls, I allowed her to take her babies into quiet time (her hour of playtime in her room). A few minutes ago I peeked my head in, smelled an eggy odor, and was informed that one of her babies had hatched. No, really? The eggs have been unrefrigerated for 5 or so hours now so I was a bit worried when I couldn’t locate the entire hard-boiled egg. And then Liv told me she ate the “oke.”
“You mean, the yoke?” I said.
“No, the OKE.”
“It’s yoke.”
“Oh, okay.”
Oke, yoke, whatever. Hopefully I don’t see it again later.
One of my favorite aspects of this year is Liv’s language development. I get ridiculous amounts of joy over the way she combines words and uses language in general. This morning she kept talking about a show with a boy and his rabbit; Jeremy correctly identified it as “Velveteen Rabbit.” A little while later Liv was talking about the Valentino’s rabbit and I couldn’t help but smile. Only a Nebraska kid would say that…
We’ve experienced a few miscommunications as well. For Valentine’s Day I helped Livia create huge cards for her teachers, one which in large letters read, “MRS. COLE.” It was only last week that another preschool mom told me about something Miss Nicole said. Oh. Miss Ni-cole. Hm.
And finally, on St. Patrick’s Day I woke Liv up and told her she should wear green to school. We dug through her drawers and came up with a blue vest that had a green zipper and stitching. Later on I asked her to tell Jeremy why she was wearing that vest. “Because it’s cold outside,” she very nonchalantly explained. It took some prompting before she told him about “Saints of Patricks Day.” Nice.
The truth about me is that I feel like I deserve a medal for doing many things… mowing the lawn, cleaning Liv’s little potties, making a great dinner. Ridiculous and petty, but there it is. We all do mundane tasks everyday without any kudos and I’m aware of that. Nonetheless, unwinding last night via blogging and chocolate? Good stuff. Thanks to the other parents who commented. I know I’m not alone in the realm of Target Tantrums.
The truth about parenthood is that it’s hard business. Dirty business. Business for tough people who have soft hearts. Soft people with tough hearts just won’t cut it in this line of work. When I reflect on the most gratifying experiences of my life, I find that they all involve hard work. When you roll up your sleeves and pour yourself into a project, you find that much more joy in the results. Perhaps that’s why, every evening after Liv’s asleep, I think of her little round face on her pillow, complete with two fingers in her mouth, and I fall in love with her all over again.
Someone pin a frickin’ medal on me. Seriously. I just stepped out of Super Target with the most ill-behaved three year old in history and I feel like I deserve a reward for surviving the battle without losing my cool.
It was all planned out. A shopping trip with the added enticement of a Shrek popsicle for good behavior. When we walk into the store Liv is in fine spirits. But soon her bad-store-self starts coming out… First she wants to open and close a Rubbermaid organizer with clasps too tight for her hands to control. (Translation: She begins shrieking each time she can’t open or close the lid, thus flustering me as I search for decongestants and cough suppressants in the pharmaceutical section.) So I begin to speed up my shopping; I whip through the condiments aisle for honey, then head for dairy creamer at a clipped pace. Somewhere around the aisles of paper goods, Livia begins to open the honey jar—ack, can you imagine the mess?!—and is sternly warned against peeling off the inner seal. Then starts the back and forth of disobedience regarding the honey. At this point, I’ve successfully found the creamer and am now in a rapid-fire hunt for chocolate, which will be consumed out of necessity one minute after Livia’s bedtime. Now the real fit, complete with loud dramatic shrieks of pain, commences. I couldn’t help but reflect on the ridiculous irony of Liv, stretched out in the grocery cart, complaining that there is TOO MUCH FOOD IN THE CART, I CAN’T GET COMFORTABLE!! If she had maintained one lick of rational thought I might have explained that the cart is for food, not her big-almost-four-year-old body, but alas…
So I’m finally at the checkout lanes, ignoring with all my might the full-on tantrum taking place in my red cart. The folks behind me seem to be gasping in horror at the freak show we’re putting on and I resist the urge to make a wise crack about how this is a good reminder to use birth control only because they look to be beyond birth control years anyhow. My self-awareness escalates and I do actually want to crawl into a hole due to embarrassment, but I’m determined to play it cool and ignore my child’s fit. The young cashier has the audacity to wish me a good day and I escape through the front door to the sound of my daughter sobbing dramatically, “I want to be a GOOD girl!” Truly, she knows what’s coming.
The bomb drops. This time, it’s from my lips.
“No Shrek popsicle for you. And when we get home, you’re going straight to bed.”
Now, about that medal…
Jeremy and I were watching a movie, one I hesitated to watch because I find Cameron Diaz beautiful but quite annoying, and during one particular scene Jeremy found great inspiration. This little maneuver always gets big laughs from the crowd (the crowd being Livia of course). The shot of Liv is the only one that wasn’t blurry, but to get her real mood, imagine those little lips opening up into a huge belly laugh. Her Daddy cracks. her. up!
Yesterday Bobby (one of Liv’s quints) was taken for a walk and we needed coats to ward off the chill. Today it was Nanny’s turn and we stripped down to short sleeves. Hallelujah–spring is on its way!
Microwave? Check.
Tea, sugar and mugs? Check.
Mixer? Check.
Bread maker? Check.
Kitchen sprite? Check.
Yup. All’s accounted for.
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.
-Galatians 6:9
I stumbled upon a blog where the blogger picked a bible verse to memorize and meditate on at the start of each new year. Galatians 6:9 is that verse for me in 2008. While it can easily be applied to a multitude of situations, I feel it most acutely applies to parenthood. Do not become weary, do not give up, wait for the harvest.
Dear Calvin,
I know your mom is a better cook than I am. I also think she’s tidier than I am. In case the second statement is, in fact, true, then let me show you how to make a huge mess—and how to have great fun in the making of the huge mess. You’ll need to open the box that came in the mail, set the playdoh aside, and pull on those cool giraffe boots. Having fun yet? Good. Now, don’t you dare find contentment with wearing those boots indoors, young man. Beg your mama to find you the largest, muddiest puddle in St. Louis and then try to emulate the following shots.
You’ll need to run back and forth in the puddles, splashing the mud way up high in the air.
Sometimes you can stand still and jump, other times you should leap across the water like a frog.
You’ll know you’ve had good clean (ha!) fun when even your knees are filthy. Sometimes the mud comes out of clothes, sometimes it doesn’t, but don’t let that stuff worry you. Your mom will take care of the mess later. It’s your job to have fun with your new giraffe boots. And next time you’re in Lincoln, you and Liv can run puddles together.
Love,
Rebecca
It’s quiet time in the Tredway household. Livia’s upstairs taking it easy in her room. Jeremy’s sequestered in his home office, web developing away. And it’s quiet. Way too quiet for this wife and mama. I need to tidy the first floor, make a few soups for dinner, and do the dishes and yet I find myself unmotivated in all this quiet. So I called next door to check on the baby. No answer. I called my mom. But I think her phone is turned off. I even called Sarah in St. Louis. We never catch each other on the phone, so I wasn’t surprised I had to leave a message.
I am placing all blame for my conversational needs squarely under the title of Extroversion. Yes, sometimes it does feel like a curse.
I’m reading a book right now called Raising Your Spirited Child. The subtitle, worth sharing, explains that the book is “a guide for parents whose child is more intense, sensitive, perceptive, persistent and energetic”. It’s great so far (more on it someday when I actually complete the thing) and I want to share a bit with you from the chapter entitled, “Extrovert or Introvert: Finding the Energy to Cope.” Author Mary Sheedy Kurcinka says that extroverts need time with people:
“Extroverts collect their energy on the outside. Not only do they like people, they need them. Allowing extroverts to talk, share their experiences, and air their feelings gives them energy. Extroverts talk their way through movies, television shows, and the newspaper. They like to discuss the action and ideas as they occur, either in person or by telephone” (Harper 1991, p.90).
Though I’m reading this book in order to understand my own spirited child, this chapter has shed light on my personality as well as Jeremy’s. Every time I read something about how introverts work, I’m a bit shocked and then laugh at how accurately it describes my husband. And then, the explanation of extroverts fits me to a “t”. So, read ahead to see if either of the following paragraphs describe you perfectly. Where do you get your energy… from people or from being alone? Final note: there’s no right answer to personality type. We are all simply built in a particular fashion, there’s no right or wrong way about how you prefer to get re-energized.
[Excerpt taken from Raising Your Spirited Child by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka]
If You Are an Extrovert, You Probably:
- want to talk with someone at the end of a busy day.
- have an immediate answer for a question.
- want to invite friends over on a Friday night.
- are comfortable repeating something already said by someone else.
- need and like to hear that others love you and like your work.
- start to invited a few friends for dinner and realize you’ve invited the entire neighborhood.
- find yourself telling your introverted child to get out of her room and call a few friends.
- solve a problem by talking through the solution with someone else.
- feel comfortable initiating a conversation.
- call for the babysitter.
- are comfortable revealing personal things about yourself.
- frequently leave a party chastising yourself for talking too much and not listening.
- enjoy and need to interact with other people and feel exhausted when you have spent too much time alone or only with young children.
- immediately share a new idea or experience with someone and find joy and energy in the telling.
If You Are an Introvert, You Probably:
- sit down with the newspaper or zone out in front of the television after a hard day.
- will do anything, even clean the toilets, if someone else will agree to call the sitter.
- can’t imagine wanting to invite a group over on Friday night.
- find being in a large group for an extended period of time exhausting.
- share personal information only with those who are very close to you. It may not be unusual for a long-term friend to exclaim, “I never knew that about you!”
- think before answering a question, often berating yourself for not sharing an answer you knew.
- frequently have extroverts ask you the same question twice because they interpret your pause to think as ignorance of the question.
- prefer dinner with the family or one special friend, rather than with the whole neighborhood.
- find yourself hiding in the bathroom or back bedroom at large family gatherings.
- solve a problem by thinking it through yourself before ever talking about it with anyone else.
- get tired of telling extroverts what a wonderful job they’re doing and how much you love and appreciate them.
I’ve been told that most kids will stop sucking their fingers around age 4 or 5 due to peer pressure. My child is not “most kids” though so I’m not holding my breath. The very first song she created goes something like this: Finger Mouth. Finger Mo-ou-outh. Oooohhh! Finger Mouth! God bless those two wrinkly fingers on her right hand. They’ve calmed her more nights than one would imagine.
