Week 7, Day 2. Morning Sickness Blows.
On a more positive note, every other aspect of family life is good. It’s better than good. It’s great. After my little online outburst the other day I feel much better and Cheyenne has shown no signs of feeling down to begin with. I didn’t get myself worked up over nothing, though. I meant what I said and I still mean it today and probably will for a long time. I try not to write things that are untrue or that I’ll want to take back at a later point in time. That blog didn’t fall into that catagory.
Cheyenne is fine. She still has days where she gets to the lunchroom late and has to eat by herself…no word on as to why she’s always last to arrive; my feeling is that she takes her sweet time going to the bathroom, going to her locker, off in her own little world. But I’ve been picking her up after school and this allows her to get her homework and chores done at an earlier time so that she has the option to play with her friends in the neighborhood. It seems to be working, and the school is just down the road so it’s not an inconvenience at all.
Mia is a riot lately. 3 years old is such a fun, fun age. She is a true wild child and her imagination is insane–it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen in a kid her age. She can make up stories, complete with 3 dimensional characters and interesting plot twists…she acts the stories out with her collection of Schleik (?) plastic animals, her mice, and MacDonald’s Wizard of Oz dolls. Her room is in a constant state of "play village" with her barn, a cottage, the mousehouse, a trainset and a jungle tree, all ready set go for her–we’ve just left it all up even at night.
She’s gotten a little independant–the other day she casually asked me, "So. Mom. I was thinking–can I go play in my room? By myself?" And I said, "Sure, of course. Whenever you want." to which she grew excited and wide-eyed and said, "I can??? Whenever I want??? Oh, thank you mommy! You’re the best!"
Everything is a game to her. Her name is never her name. She is always Peter Pan, or Captain Hook, or she’s a dog, or a bunny, or a stinky boy (her words) or a baby or a doctor or a tiger. Darcy is Lightning the Horse, and Smokey is her pony named Rock. I usually have the priviledge of being Wendy or Tinkerbell even when we’re playing school and she’s the bully in the back of the classroom.
No object is what it seems. A hammer is a dumbell. "I’m working out," she grunts at me as she lifts the thing up and down. Brooms are swords, Febreeze is Monster spray…the girl is non-stop. I love it.
And, she’s sleeping in her own room, in her own bed, waking up only once or twice at night whining in her half-sleep. She does not protest when I walk her back to bed and lay her down again and she instantly drifts off…I was worried last night because we had a storm, and she’s not particularly comforted by the sound of thunder…but it was not a problem. She’s completely daytime and nighttime potty trained. Everything is in order; things are as they should be. So in 7 months or so, we’ll be ready to screw up the good thing we have going with a newborn that will wake up all night long and go through a trillion diapers a day.
The appreciation I feel for my parents grows tremendously with each passing day that I am a mom.