Taking one for the team

As I was folding yet another load of laundry today, Josephine spotted a chocolate peanut butter cup that had been left behind from the night before. She brought it over to me and said, "Mom, what's this? I should eat it."

"Oh. No, Josephine, let's not eat that one, it's yucky."

Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I was going to let her have it. Mostly because I didn't have the energy to rationalize and convince her otherwise. But as she kept asking me and started to unwrap it, I was still trying to explain it was a "yucky one and she wouldn't like it."

She had moved on to sniffing it and assuring me she understood, but she should try it anyway.

I gave in quickly and said, "Okay, go ahead. You can have it."

She took her first bite with a little hesitancy and stared right at me. So serious...like it was a science experiment. Her face went from slightly concerned to immediate joy and she said, "Mom. I loooove this."

I smiled and nodded and told her I was glad she liked it. She finished it in few bites as she danced around mismatched socks and stacks of pajamas. As she licked her fingers and started to walk away, she suddenly stopped, turned around and put her hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were very serious and her tone mimicked an adult teaching a lesson.

"Mom, I can eat the yucky ones for you and Daddy. If you find yucky ones, just tell me. I'll eat them."

I laughed harder than I intended to and I could tell she liked seeing me laugh and giggled along with me, but then she got very serious again and said, "You just tell me, okay? You find yucky ones, I eat them."

Oh, teenagers

The girls and I were killing time in between ballet and swim class and decided to do some window shopping downtown. I was letting them get a few feet ahead of me so they could pretend to be on their own. At some point, a teenager sauntered in between us with his hands in pockets, head down, hoodie up. He was definitely too cool for us and the girls swerved in and out around his legs as he passed by us.

Just as he was passing Josephine, she took off running toward the edge of the sidewalk, close to the road. Our teenager didn't miss a beat. He took one side step and pivoted around at the same time. He reached one arm out to stop my tiny one just as she took a 90 degree turn back toward us. 

He never changed his cool expression and just turned around and kept walking.

As we passed, I said thank you and he just raised his hand and nodded his head.

I love when people remind me to never judge a book by it's cover

Oh, joy.

There was a Dancing in the Streets event in downtown Santa Cruz tonight. And, as always, it's a struggle to gather enough snacks, jackets and children to go anywhere. Ever. Sometimes I give up before I even start and end up missing all the things. But tonight, all the stars aligned.

And thank goodness they did.

There were kids doing ballet, adults tap dancing and even a magical Balinese woman who stared directly into my soul as she danced. Dancing has always brought joy to my life but tonight was a moment that's been building for years. Years of babies, lockdowns and emotions. The cumulative joy of the dancers, the bystanders and my little dancing girls practically lifted me off my feet.

I am so grateful for music and community. And Josephine's little booty shake.

Theater of the mind

Driving home yesterday, I was slightly annoyed by the commercial on the radio.  I wasn't actually listening to the content, but the man's voice was driving me crazy. Zoë and Josephine were uncharacteristically quiet in the back seat and suddenly Zoë piped up, "Mom!"

"Yes, Zoë."

"Did you just hear in that story? They said Josephine!!"

The voice had actually said "Joseph", but that's beside the point. I couldn't help but smile about her choice of words and the thought of an annoying ad being a story in her mind.

It also reminded me of an old advertising axiom my dad loved to remind everyone one of: radio is the theater of the mind. 

I suppose some advertisers still live by that.

Birds and the Bees

My little one is three years old and, of course, overflowing with questions. 

Today's big one: "Mom, I know you had a baby in your tummy, but HOW does the baby get in your tummy?"

"Well, Daddy helped put a baby in my tummy."

"Oh. But how did he put it in there?"

I will spare you the details, but I did my best to briefly and easily explain how it works. She seemed relatively interested and processed some of it, but then returned to jumping off my bed showing me how she could "land with no hands!".

Then she stopped and said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah...but how do you find the husband?"

Super valid. Definitely the hardest part of the equation. 

Heart. Melted.

At the end of today (living in 2020/21 as a baseline - something we can all agree is already a low bar), I struggled through witching-hour meltdowns, dinner time negotiations and never-ending dirty dishes.  

I made it to the finish line of bedtime and transitioned right into having a tame argument with my husband while I made "adult dinner".  All while listening to our youngest cry it out as she fell asleep. We've come accustomed to tuning it out.  (And, realistically, it never lasts longer than 4 minutes.)  But tonight, the four minutes felt especially long.  

As mothers do, I was watching butter melt to the perfect consistency to pan fry fish, explaining my frustration to my husband and "sink-defrosting" said fish-to-be-cooked.  All while in the background hearing my toddler start singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to the screaming baby.

And that's when it broke. My heart. 

My sweet, albeit <sometimes> annoying  three-year-old was being so sweet. So genuine. So helpful.

My girl. My heart. My love.

What an important time to be a toddler

Since we are temporarily living in "town", we've been taking advantage and doing daily walks along West Cliff (a populated beach walk, but it has a locals vibe).

Before COVID, most people smiled as they passed or offered some sort of friendly gesture.  Now, with mostly masked faces, it feels like no one is friendly...even if they're smiling from behind their mask.

Turns out, if you have a toddler in tow, it's a game changer.

For every single person we passed today, Zoë said, "Hi, I'm Zoë, what's your name?"  Nine out of ten people nearly stopped in their tracks to say hello back and then, if they'd listen, Zoë would continue with:

"Do you know I have a birthday?  I'll be three.  This is my sister. Her name is Josephine. Do you know she has two teeth?"

I had two favorites from the day:

1. A woman named Olga who was so delighted to be stopped to say hello.  She prodded Zoë with lots of questions and we found out her middle name was Josephine.  Turns out she also has a granddaughter named Zoë and our Zoë thought that was the coolest.
2. At the end of our walk, Zoë was out of the stroller collecting rocks.  She stopped two different women who patiently waited as Zoë went through her spiel. Then she told them she had found a rock just for them. They both graciously accepted and commented on how pretty the rock was and how much they would cherish it.

The last woman we spoke to held her newly gifted rock close to her heart and said, "It seems like our only hope right now is to chat with strangers. Thank you for stopping to say hello. You truly made my day."

I'm honored we could help. 

Notes from a toddler

Zoë and I were playing this afternoon and I thought I was doing a good job of taking sneak-peeks at my phone.

She was inventing stories of her "baby's" day at school and asking my opinion on her doll's backpack choice and what she should have for lunch.

I thought I was playing along nicely and then she stopped mid-sentence as she was explaining the doll's outfit.

"Mom."

"Yeah?" I answered, admittedly with my eyes on my phone.

"Mom!"

"Yeah?!" I said again.

She reached over and put her hand between me and my phone.

"Mom, look up."

My heart melted a teeny bit and I quickly put my phone behind my back.  She stared at me for a second and then said, "I like it better when you look up."

Ugh. Totally valid.