Every day this month Elena has been asking if her birthday is 'tomorrow'. I've tried to explain in terms she could relate to when her birthday would be. "We go to church 3 more times and it's the day after that." "We wake up 5 more times and then it's your birthday." But in her little soon to be 4 year old mind my explanations held little substance and such breakdowns were followed by "that is such a long time."
Upon finding out that my due date was February 2nd, when I was pregnant with Elena, I felt sure that she would be born in January. We all know how eternal the last month of pregnancy is and an early delivery (within reason) is always welcomed. When January came I waited--hoping every day would bring her arrival. Days came and went with no sign. She made me wait nearly the entire month before making her entrance into this world 5 minutes before midnight, the last day of the month.
Now she too must wait virtually the whole month.
She requested to go to IKEA for her birthday, because she loves the ball pit in the kids' zone. Yes, a definite sign that we don't get out much. So to IKEA we went.
Unfortunately, once there, we found out that the ball pit was closed for cleaning. We went to a near by alternative with the reassurance that we'd bring her back when the pit is open.
Elena made the wish. Gracie blew the candles.
Unlike her sisters, Elena often doesn't display much emotion, she can be happy but her face may not show it. We got a bigger response from the other 2 as she opened her presents.
Nevertheless when it comes to the ones she loves, you don't have to wonder because she has a way of making sure you know it.
This morning while getting the girls ready for church...
Mike: I'm speaking in church today, that means you girls need to be good for mom because she'll be alone; I'm going to be sitting upfront.
(You see when Mike is around, all he has to do is snap his fingers and instantly they stop whatever misbehaving action was in progress. Which is not necessarily the case with me.)
Mike: If I see you being bad I'm going to throw my scriptures at you from the stand.
Raquel: No you won't. You can't do that in church.
Mike: OK, then I'm going to laser you with my eyes.
Raquel: You can't do that either.
Mike: Why not?
Raquel: Because laser-eyes is a super power. And super powers aren't real.
Me: I think dad has super powers.
Raquel: No he doesn't. Only heroes that are pretend have super powers.
Elena: But daddy is a hero.
Me: So he must have super powers.
A few years back when I went to PA school, Mike stayed home with Raquel and did everything that came with being a stay at home parent. He cooked dinner. Cleaned the house. Fixed things. Played with Raquel. Bathed her, dressed her. Did the laundry. Went grocery shopping. etc. On top of all this he also managed 114 apartments. He not only did an amazing job--he made it look like a breeze. Having him home this past week I've been reminded of how easy he makes it look. Not only can he get our kids to behave by a mere glance, but he can do my "job" almost effortlessly. Like me, you may wonder how he is/was able to do it. And the only explanation I've come up with is that he has....super powers.
Portland, OR. September 2005 Mike and Raquel going around the complex doing maintenance.
We went to a friend's wedding yesterday. It was an outdoor wedding and the first wedding Elena has ever actually seen. The wonder and amazement in her eyes as the bride was being walked up the aisle by her dad was almost tangible. She was pretty sure about who the bride was, but the person walking with her--not so sure--she leaned over to me and quietly whispered, "Is that the prince?"
This is by far one of my favorite ages. I love the deductions and conclusions, the wonder and astonishment, the lisps and mispronunciations. Here is a little bit more of this little lady.
In the spirit of Mothers' Day, I'm dedicating this post to some of the things I currently enjoy, observe, love, and learn from being a mom to my girls.
*****
Raquel
Despite my original hesitation about homeschooling Raquel, I have really enjoyed it. I've been floored by her progress this year. Seeing it firsthand has been more rewarding than I could have imagined.
She now reads her bedtime stories to me. So awesome.
She is the best older sister. She is obedient. She is kind. She laughs easily. She doesn't like to get in trouble. She is smart. She is a good friend.
She finds pleasure in simple things. On the way home from the park she asked if I could get them a hamburger. When I said ok, she clasped her hands together in excitement and stated,
“This is the best day ever.”
She often tells me I'm the best mom she's ever had.
She now understands embarrassment. And can hardly stand watching a movie where the character is facing an awkward situation without burrowing her head in the couch cushions.
She is sensitive. She cried alongside me as we watched the Blind Side for the first time.
*****
Elena
Thursday at about 2:30 in the afternoon, the baby's constant shadowing, clinginess, and whinny cries created a need for us to get out of the house before I lost my cool. I packed the girls and headed to a nearby park. We hadn't been to this particular park since moving here 9 months ago.
As I sat on the side walk next to the play structure with my feet on the sand watching the girls play
Elena came up and holding two little fingers up said,
"Member when I was two, and we came to this park?"
I was surprised that she remembered coming here before but more taken back by her acknowledgement of the passage of time. I smiled back and nodded.
"Well now I am thooee," adding another finger to her two other ones.
"Yes. Good job!"
Upon seeing my pleased expression and feeling great by her new found math skills she confidently added,
"Yup. And next year... I'll be one."
We may have some more work ahead of us in the math department.
I love the lisp that is often heard when she says her Rs. I love that even when I've lost my temper and have reprimanded her and are hence feeling guilty for my unwarranted actions, and so decide to go hug her, she immediately forgives and with a sincere and sweet smile says, "Mom. You're a nice mom."
I need to be better about recording her fantastic three year old reasoning and deductions. Last week Mike was trying to kill a mosquito in the house. He was telling the girls that if a mosquito lands on you and you squeeze your skin the mosquito's butt will explode.
"And the mosquito will die?" she asked.
"Yup."
"And it will go to heaven to see Jesus without a butt?"
Not sure if this was the time to teach about the resurrection, and frankly I hope mosquitoes are non-existent when that time comes. I don't know if all living things will be resurrected, and going into this would have brought up deep doctrine I know nothing about. So. I just smiled.
Even with her often mistaken outer tough shell, this girl is incredibly kind.
Yesterday while in the act of play she stabbed (without penetrating the skin) Raquel with a pen in the center of her chest. She was surprised by the fact that this playful maneuver created such a stir. In an attempt to discipline and prevent future similar actions, I had her stand with her nose against the wall. Big tears welled up in her eyes as she started to cry.
After a moment I noticed that this was a different kind of cry. It wasn't the typical this is so unfair cry but more of a I really feel bad for what I did type of cry. I knelt down so as to be at eye level and explained, "Jabbing Raquel with the pen was not nice. You really hurt her."
Unsuccessfully suppressed sobs filled the air as she took deep breaths to regain composure.
"Do you want to tell her you're sorry?
In a desperate way, like when you really need to do something, she answered yes.
If only I could be so quick to ask for forgiveness.
*****
Lorena Grace
I read once that having a toddler is like being with a schizophrenic, suicidal, know-it-all.
Informal definition of schizophrenic: experiencing or maintaining contradictory attitudes, emotions, etc.
Definition of suicidal: dangerous to oneself.
Based on this, I agree with the previous statement.
It's a good thing that her cuteness overshadows all other aspects of this crazy stage.
At least once a day she can be found in the bathroom sink fully dressed taking a bath. She believes food makes a great hair product. And when she says “nuh-uh" it can mean either no or yes.
In her eyes she is no longer a baby, she wants to do everything that her older sisters do.
Whether that be ridding a scooter or washing dishes.
She is great at multi-tasking. Here she is talking on the phone while at the same time doing her daily ritual of emptying every drawer in our house.
When it is all said and done, if Mothers' Day is about celebrating the fact that because of these three I get a special day, then I'm all about celebrating, because I am SO glad they are here.
Kids can be mean. I remember being teased for not speaking English, for having an accent, for having a name that sounds like "Gracias" "Garcias" or "Godzilla". Can you see why despite the fact that I am the 3rd generation in a row to have my name I didn't pass it on to my posterity? I also wasn't the best at comebacks. And though I tried to ignore them, it was probably obvious that I was bothered, which only fueled them on. In the end I don't think I was emotionally scarred and even with it all turned out OK.
While it is almost inevitable to escape childhood without experiencing some form of disdain you can't help as a parent to want to step in when you see your kids being made fun of or teased.
I see a lot of me in Raquel...in the sense that she doesn't know what to do when kids are mean to her. Mike worries about her. He frequently drills her on what to say.
"If someone makes fun of you what do you tell them?"
"I don't care."
"That's right. Because people that are mean want you to what..?"
"Feel bad and cry."
"Right. So you either say 'I don't care' or..?
"Ignore them."
In addition, he often purposely teases her so that she can practice comebacks...
"Hey lazy butt."
To which she'll say things like,
"I know you are but what am I."
Immature? Maybe. Childish? Sure. Is it helping her? I don't know. Am I proud of it? Not really.
Elena on the other hand...is a different story.
Shortly after the baby took her socks off and left them on the kitchen table, Mike picked them up and said,
"Hey look Elena! It's your favorite smell--stinky socks."
Calmly and without seeming annoyed she replied, "No." And then matter of factly and with a you're not worthy of my time undertone added, "My favorite smell is poon" (Mexican slang for gas).
Mike: .................
(One of the few times I've seen him speechless).
How do you compete with that? When someone makes fun of you, respond by showing them that their insult was pathetic and dim-witted by coming up with a better example of how they could have mocked you.
She's three! I didn't learn this comeback tactic until I was old, very old, and I still stink at it.
