View from the Prairie Box

Jeremy: I love you, Livia.
Livia: I love kitties!

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After I use the restroom…
Livia: Good girl, Mommy, good girl. [hug] I so pro-oud of you!

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Livia stops every few feet on our way to the car and every time utters:
Fix hat. [fixes hat] PER-FECT.

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Livia: I bizzy, Mom. I bizzy.

Mommy thinks this is the cutest phrase the world has ever heard.

Jeremy: Dizzy. D-izzy. With a D.
Liv: BIZZY.
Jer: DIZZY.
Liv: Dizzy. I dizzy!

Yesterday can only be described as a “Two and a Half Year Old” kind of day.

We started the day strong, with minimal toddler fuss at the grocery store and some good outdoor playtime in the beautiful morning sun. From there we moved into playdough fun in the highchair where Livia displayed a new skill: snorting small bits of playdough. I didn’t even notice what she was up to until she began sniffing heavily. And then I was forced into full Mom Mode, “Don’t put anything up your nose, ever!” Check that phrase off my list of Things a mom must say.

Several weeks ago Liv moved into a big girl bed and boy are we grateful because she loves sleeping there. She had not once tried to escape from the bed, until yesterday afternoon. On a day where I was exhausted by lunchtime and desperately looking forward to some rest, Livia made her move. Out of the big girl bed, to her closed bedroom door, where she knocked loudly and cried for her mama. Suffice to say naptimes might be on the decline in coming days. She was still exhausted enough to fall asleep during an evening car ride, but I’m not sure how to convince her that she still NEEDS an afternoon nap. (For another fun story, I should have Nana blog about how Livia snuck out during naptime several days ago and helped herself to many of the no-no’s at Nana’s house.)

Instead of sleeping we then went outside to enjoy the bee-u-tiful November day. We walked around the block one direction, then walked it again the other direction. Liv drew with chalk, I pruned some of the garden. And then I dragged my noodle-y kid back into the house to complete a few chores. (My daughter has perfected the art of turning strong muscles into puny ones in an act of rebellion. I pray it’s a phase that will soon expire. Otherwise I’m seriously going to lose my mind.)

Just as I was starting to go stir crazy and desperate for some alone time, things really heated up. Let’s just say that Livia used a private moment on the potty to have a water fight, only not with water but with urine. I’ve noticed recently that I’ve been saying a ridiculous statement to my 2.5 year old: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING??? She was probably thinking, Boy was that fun! Argh. Off to the bathtub we went.

The final touch to our day (before picking up Jeremy from work) was a fall down half a flight of stairs. We store our shoes on the landing between floors and I thought the loud bump noise came from one of Jeremy’s heavy shoes flying down the carpeted stairs. The cries at the end of the bumping sounds convinced me otherwise and I about had a heart attack running to see the results of the fall. She was fine, wanted a bandaid, but fine.

I, on the other hand, cried, complained and vented on the phone to my husband.

Some days, especially these “Two and a Half Year Old Days,” I just don’t think I’m going to make it.

**Note: If I wasn’t an ESFJ would I be less frustrated with this type of day? I’m a strong F (feeler), so my day feels longer when I’m pushed emotionally. The structured J part of me isn’t a huge problem, but I can’t help but wonder if strong P’s make more laidback parents. Just pondering…

I love the excitement of an election night… The close races, the chance for power and control of our government, the hard work of running for a position being replaced by the hard work of being elected to that position. I’d stay up all night to watch the results if I could. Still, there is something fun about waking up the next day and seeing how the votes played out.

Among my life goals of learning to decorate a cake and learning to play the guitar is the notion of working on a political campaign. Oh yeah, I totally wish I was down at the Cornhusker or Brewsky’s tonight. : )

When I was a kid I loved making sheet forts. My brothers and I would stretch sheets all over the living room, pinning edges down with stacks of books, clothespins and sofa cushions. (I’m pretty certain Mom was involved in most of the secure forts that were made.) My favorite part was when I could crawl under the sheets and set up a cozy little home. I’ve been creating little nests like that my whole life… Barbie houses made out of shoeboxes, glass jars as terrariums for all sorts of outdoor critters (the spiders would often be the only living creatures left by morning), and more forts built outdoors with my brothers and neighborhood buddies.

So when we acquired a large cardboard box from the Moreheads’ front porch, it was all I could do to not overtake the small place that was meant for my daughter. During her nap I cut windows and a door, all the while telling my husband about the Boxcar children and how much I loved reading about their adventures. As an adult a boxcar sounds like a terrible place to call home, and yet as a kid, I thought it was terribly creative to store milk behind rocks in a cold creek and to set up house with found objects from the woods.

What are some of your favorite kid memories? What things did you do that you hope to repeat for your own children?

* SPOILERS. Don’t read unless you’re caught up with Season 3.
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* For real, I’m gonna spoil things for you if you keep reading.
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* Here goes… You’ve been warned.
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1. Mr. Eko’s death. I’m fine with major characters being killed off. I liked Mr. Eko, but I’ve read differing reports on the actor himself. One report states that his parents both died last year and that he’s returning home to film a movie. Another states that he was something of a prima donna on set and wanted a short term gig anyhow. Whatever situation is true, I don’t really care. What bothers me is one of the final scenes regarding Eko’s confession. By all accounts, Eko had become a man quite learned in the Bible… He acted as a priest for some time (even traveling to Australia while in the ministry) and he knew his scripture (remember his beating stick?). So how in the world could this “minister” of the gospel confess NOTHING before his death? That whole speech about doing the best he could? Crap. Obviously the writers know nothing of the true gospel of Christ. Eko, my one hope for a character who could respresent redemption, fails in every way during his final hour. Blah.

2. I don’t like the newbies. Especially the girl. I’ll give her time to grow on me, but for pete’s sake, couldn’t they make her hair and makeup look more island-ish? Picture perfect hair, makeup and gleaming white teeth annoyed me more than a little last night.

3. I totally don’t trust Juliette. I love the actress—she’s the perfect person to play a duplicitous Other. I have hope that Jack, Kate & Sawyer will soon get away from the clutches of this crazy cult, but for now, ya can’t trust anyone. (Can you tell I take this show very seriously??)

Photo by wittmania.

It just doesn’t get scarier than this folks. And no, I’m not referring to Jeremy’s deliciously cheesy smile, or to the fact that I, the anti-cheerleader in high school, actually dressed my child as a cheerleader for Halloween. I make one freaking scary man, folks. In fact, I was tempted to click on Flickr’s “may offend” link because my facial hair frightened me so badly.

Kudos to Mike & Amanda on the tres cool Reformation Day/Halloween Party. Good costumes, great munchies, fun decorations—what more could you ask for?

Halloween gets more fun as Livia grows older. Our little Husker cheerleader loves candy… and ringing doorbells… and talking to people… so you can imagine how much she’s enjoyed all the festivities.

“More cany, Mama? Choc-o-late?”

My thoughts precisely. Um, after lunch, that is.

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Thank you, dear friends, for your kind comments, emails and cards over the past week. Blogging about this loss, continuing on with daily activities, reading your sweet words, and knowing you’re praying for us — it all helps. Thank you.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and buck the old school tradition of not talking about miscarriages.

I miscarried my 2nd child last week.

I was so excited to share the news of my pregnancy with friends near and far via my blog. I was going to wait another few weeks and then spill the beans—it’s such beautiful news to get to share. But then something went wrong with the growth of the teeny baby within my womb. And then, before I even knew it, I wasn’t pregnant anymore.

My heart fiercely aches right now and I must admit I don’t understand God’s plan for my life. Getting pregnant was a delightful surprise to Jeremy and me and I cannot comprehend the ‘why’ of miscarrying. So for now, I will be content to share a bit of myself with the rest of you. I might share more, I might not. I might need to move on and blog about something else briefly after posting this, then again, I might not. My general policy when suffering is to do what feels good (within limits of course). Friends and family have been unbelievable in their support of us, I try to eat chocolate at least once a day, and I cry and talk when I feel like it.

But I miss being pregnant. And I suspect I’ll miss my 7 week, 6 day old little bean of a baby until I step into Glory one day.