and then there were four…

I’m a big LOST fan. I’m not a rabid fan who looks for hidden meanings in everything, but I’m a big enough fan to get giddy with girlie giggles when Bill told me yesterday that he saw Naveen Andrews (Sayid) while out and about (sorry, I can’t say where).

My two favorite characters are Sayid and Hurley. I want to be Hurley’s friend and I want to learn how to kick ass like Sayid. Yes, I know they are fictional characters. I also like Hurley’s freckles. They are cute.

I was extremely excited when I found Jorge Garcia’s blog (he plays Hurley). I started reading the blog this morning and realized he seems to be a lot like his character (a funny, sweet guy), and I decided I wanted to be his friend. I’ll settle for reading his blog. I haven’t gotten up-to-date on it, I just started reading, and am working on the 2007 archives (I’m thorough when it comes to blog-reading). I normally reserve my praise (and blogroll addition) for a blog after I’ve finished reading the entire thing, and make a full-fledged committment to keeping on Google Reader. He had me laughing from the beginning, but when Olivia looked at me and said “What are you laughing at, mama?” as I was reading this post, I knew I had a keeper. It feels good to laugh when you’re sleep deprived, thanks Jorge!

Olivia’s big girl bed arrived early Thursday morning. The delivery men even set it up and took the trash away. That made life much easier for us. Olivia was extremely excited about her bed. She kept squealing “MY BIG GIRL BED” and running around the house like a banshee, alternating between bounding on the bed and running out into the living room to tell me that her big girl bed had finally come and she wanted to sleep on it.

After I finally wrangled her off of the bed, I was able to make it up with the sheets she had picked out the night before (pink polka-dots) and the quilt her great-grandma made for her when she was born. I realized that the quilt is not quite big enough to cover the bed, but it will do for now. The bed was not complete without her army of “friends”. Now that she has a bigger bed, I’m sure Olivia’s army will gain new recruits. If you look closely, you can see “Mr. Rabbit” the dinosaur and “Sandwich” the monkey.

For as long as I could remember, I wanted a daybed.

I thought a daybed would be the most fabulous thing in the world for any girl to own. It seemed like such a fancy and grown-up type of bed.

When I was a bit older, I thought that having a sleighbed would be amazing. They were always so beautiful and (for lack of a better word) majestic looking.

I never had either type of bed, and as an adult, I have still yet to purchase any real bedroom furniture. I’m extremely picky about large purchases, and the idea of putting so much money into something I will have forever makes me want to wait until I find something amazing.

The time has come for us to purchase Olivia’s “big girl” bed. I wanted to buy something that would grow with her, something that could withstand a lot of little girl energy and, let’s face it: lots of bouncing.

I had been dragging my heels, not really wanting to make that kind of commitment. I also felt like my baby girl was growing up and keeping her in her crib was a small way to keep her my baby for a bit longer.

Then Sophia outgrew the co-sleeper, and we knew if we wanted her to sleep for longer periods, we needed to get her in the crib. So, last weekend we took the plunge and bought Olivia the most amazing bed.

So, aside from the tacky decor and ugly bedspread, isn’t this a gorgeous bed? Not only is it a daybed, it’s also a sleighbed. I promise I don’t live vicariously through my children. Okay, maybe a little. But, Olivia said she loved it and seemed to like it above the other ones we saw. I also liked the fact that there are no sharp corners and we can add a trundle when Sophia is ready to make the transition from crib to bed.

I’ve already told Bill that I may be an emotional wreck on Thursday, when they deliver the bed. This is a gigantic step, and one more step Olivia takes away from being a baby.

Perhaps I am overreacting, yet again.

Olivia: “Daddy, I’m a princess!”

Bill: “You are?”

O: “YES!”

B: “Well how did that happen?”

O: “Because you’re a prince!”

Makes sense to me.

I wish I could play the piano.

In the first grade, I took a few lessons that were offered at school. The piano teacher was kind of strict, but as an adult, I realize that is usually how it goes with those types of lessons. She was very prim and I always felt clumsy when I sat beside her on the bench, in the wings of the huge auditorium’s stage.

I remember how musty the old red velvet curtains smelled, the gold backing and large ropes used to hold them back. The piano books were exciting, I couldn’t wait to learn all of the songs. I dreamed one day I would have a piano to play. I always wondered how that would ever happen, as our trailer was not large enough for a piano. But I hoped anyway.

I am not sure how many lessons I took, but it wasn’t very many. I don’t know the details, but something evidently happened where it was something my mother could no longer afford. Maybe she knew from the beginning that she wouldn’t have been able to pay for them, but wanted me to have the chance to play. I don’t know. It probably didn’t upset me too much at the time, I was young enough to have my attention diverted to another activity without much fuss.

I stayed at my Aunt & Uncle’s house every other weekend. It was something that was worked out between the families so my sister and I could see my father without him actually having to be responsible for us. They had a piano, and my cousin took lessons, so she taught me a little of what she knew. I learned to play the second part of “Heart & Soul”, Mary Had A Little Lamb, and a few other small songs. I was immensely jealous of her, she had blond hair, was older, could play the piano, had horses, and a daddy. She was everything I was not, everything I would never be.

I don’t think my cousin took lessons for very long (though I could be wrong). She was involved with lots of other extracurricular activities. She was always going somewhere, and when she wasn’t, she was in her barn, with her horses. So the piano sat there and I would pull the mahogany bench out every other weekend and try to play something. Tried to teach myself how to play.

The piano still sits there, in the same place. It is now used as a place for all of the family photos. When I visited last, I was nursing Sophia and Olivia was left to play in the living room with her gaggle of cousins. I heard the familiar tinkling of the keys as I was in the bedroom. When I emerged, I saw my beautiful curly-haired girl’s little fingers delicately touching the keys, sitting on the same mahogany bench I once sat.

“I want to play for all the boys and girls, mama!” She grinned up at me.

It was all I could do not to cry.

Another lost post! I have about 10 drafts that I haven’t finished (because I’m constantly sidetracked by children and/or life in general), so when I have the chance, I may pull those salvageable ones out and post them.

We went to the Build-A-Dino store the weekend before our NC trip. It’s basically a Build-a-Bear workshop that has a small section of dinosaurs to choose from. There aren’t many locations, but we happened to be visiting a friend who lived near one, and since Olivia has been into dinosaurs lately, I thought it might be fun to do something special for her since we were going away from daddy for a week.

We told her she could pick anything in the store to build, and at first she gravitated towards this big elephant. I was a bit bummed because I wanted her to get a dinosaur, since that was the whole point of the outing. But, I knew that this was about her and not me, so I didn’t push it, nor did I try in any way to change her mind.

The line was long and as we were waiting, Olivia put the big elephant back in the bin and looked over at the dinosaurs.

“I want the purple dinosaur, daddy.” So Bill grabbed the purple T-Rex and I tried to hide my excitement.

If you aren’t familiar with the Build-A-Bear concept, it’s exactly as the name implies. You pick a stuffable toy from their vast selection (They are varying prices too, $20 is about the most expensive). You take it to the stuffing machine and they allow you to step on the pedal to fill it with fluff. Olivia stepped on the pedal for a moment, but was scared by the noise, so Bill stepped up and finished filling the T-Rex. After stuffing, but before the helpful employee sews the animal up, you are able to stick a heart inside of your creation. You can include a beating heart or a musical one, but we opted for the plain (and free) cloth heart. They do an adorable little “heart ceremony” where you are supposed to rub the heart between your hands to keep it warm, rub it on your forehead to give it knowledge, rub it on your tummy to make sure it never goes hungry, and I’m sure I’m missing some, but you get the idea. You place the heart inside, the friendly employee sews your creation up and then you take said creation over to the “shower” where there is a trough and overhead showerhead-looking things that I’m not sure if they do anything–maybe they blow air, I can’t remember. Then you can brush the fur to clean up any debris from the fluff machine.

From there you can pick out outfits or extras for your creation if you want (we didn’t) and then you go to the naming stations where you register your creation and have your birth certificate printed for check-out. If you don’t want to do all of that, you can always buy one of the pre-stuffed animals they have available, but I think the experience is what you are paying for, so you may as well have fun with it.

As we were waiting in line, Bill asked Olivia what she was going to name her dinosaur. She thinks about it for a moment and looks at Bill and says, “Mr. Rabbit.”

“Mr. Rabbit?” he asks her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, this is Mr. Rabbit.” Olivia looks very confident in her naming abilities.

So, we brought Mr. Rabbit home to join her first creation from the Build-A-Bear workshop: a monkey named Sandwich.

I took the girls to the park yesterday. We had such beautiful weather that the walk was wonderful and I realized how much I missed it.

But, can anyone explain why your legs itch if you walk for a good distance after not walking for awhile? It doesn’t happen all the time, just if I walk (or run) long distances for the first time after a break in doing so.

Whatever the reason, it was not pleasant.

Olivia and Sophia both had a blast on the swings. Sophia doesn’t have much swinging experience, but she was giggling and really seemed to enjoy herself. Olivia decided after a good minute of swinging that she was ready for the slides. I explained that Sophia was swinging and having a lot of fun, so she would have to wait. She could do that by either continuing to swing, or by standing next to me while I pushed Sophia. She opted to get out and wanted to help push Sophia, which was really cute.

After being there for less than 5 minutes, an older woman came into the park pushing a very expensive buggy-type stroller and talking on her cell phone. The baby in the buggy was probably close to Sophia’s age and was bundled up like it was the dead of winter in the Midwest. By contrast, Olivia was wearing a light sweatshirt and a jean jacket with khaki pants. Sophia was wearing a sweatsuit over a onsie. No hats necessary. I felt kind of bad for the baby, because she was trying to sit up but was strapped in the buggy laying down.

The woman stood next to a bench, chatting on her phone, while the baby struggled to sit up. The woman moved the buggy back and forth (like she was trying to calm her). It kind of annoyed me that her phone conversation was more important than the needs of the child, but I could be overreacting. A bit later I noticed she had left the baby’s buggy on the sidewalk area that snakes through the park and walked about 10 feet away from her to sit on a bench. No not a big deal, but if someone had come walking through the woman was wearing heels and was old enough that her reaction time wouldn’t have been quick enough to prevent someone from just pushing the damn baby out of the park. Not that this happens, and we live in a safe place, but…I have a very overactive imagination and the thought that this could in theory, happen, would have rendered me unable to be so nonchalant about leaving my baby in her buggy 10 feet away from me. Besides, it was blocking the walkway, which is just rude.

When we finally made it to the slides, another older woman came into the park with a running toddler who was smaller than Olivia. I later learned she was 16 months old. Her caregiver stopped and “oohed and ahhed” over the buggy baby and then followed the toddler over to the slides. Olivia decided to go to another set of slides across from where we were, so we nodded politely to each other and went our separate ways. Pretty soon I noticed the little girl was in the swings, just kind of sitting there. Her caregiver had started talking to the other woman, who was absent-mindedly pushing the buggy back and forth. I just looked at that little girl, her legs kicking, trying to gain some momentum so she would move, but just sitting there, looking at her caregiver, as if trying to will her back over to her.

That made me sad.

I’m not trying to imply that every minute should be spent with your children, or that you should bow to their every whim, or even that they be the center of the universe (well, they should be the center of YOUR universe, but that is just my own humble opinion). However, if you take a child to the park, it is about them. It’s a park with big primary colored slides and swings. It’s a small park meant for a small child’s recreation. Seriously, if you saw this park you would understand. No one should come to this park for anything more than allowing children to play. There are small sections of grass, a few picnic tables, benches, trees and LOTS of playground equipment. Olivia literally gasps with excitement every day when we turn the corner and she sees it, even though she knows exactly where we are going.

I’ve seen it more times than I care to admit. A bunch of moms get together with their kids at the park, start talking and totally ignore their small children. I do understand that there comes an age when your kids are perfectly capable of playing at a park without you hovering over them or needing to be as close by. If this is the case, by all means, meet your mom friends and hang out while your kids enjoy their time at the park. However, if you have a toddler who still needs your attention, don’t allow yourself to be preoccupied enough to where the child you are entrusted with is less than a foot away from the entrance to the park, which is only a sidewalk-distance away from the street.

Yes. That happened. I glanced over at her as Olivia slid down the slide for the 10th time and watched the little girl edge closer and closer to the park’s (open) gate. I saw that her caregiver was chatting away with the other buggy-pushing woman and I was just about to yell out at her, when she screamed at the kid in another language and the girl ran back over to her.

Pay attention motherfuckers. There are so many kids who get hurt, not because they are stupid, but because their caregivers are.

So she puts the little girl back in the swing. Olivia is playing in the sand by now, but decides after a bit that she wants to swing again. By the time we reach the swings, the little girl is out of the swing and back near the gate.

I place Olivia in the swing and start pushing her. All of a sudden I hear a scream and the other small girl is running towards the swing, screaming and crying. Her caregiver picks her up and she is mad as hell. She’s kicking her legs and throwing a tantrum. The woman calms her down, and looks at me, laughing, and says “She thought that was her swing and now she is mad because your little girl is in it.”

Seriously? If Miss Olivia Dawn threw a fit like that I would have taken her away from the playground right away and not put her happy ass in the unoccupied swing. Okay, that’s just my own brand of parenting, but she was still basically condoning this behavior by not admonishing the child in the slightest.

Or, am I overreacting again?