Tuesday, September 1, 2009

In case you hadn't noticed...

I'm not blogging anymore. I've become a bit paranoid about the Internet and its dangers lately. We have much news. Reagan is currently at her first day of preschool. We're adopting again and our little one is waiting for us in Taiwan! Our church has a new building (hopefully!). We're not bored or boring, by any means. Just haven't shared with the general public out of concern for our safety.

That being said I truly miss sharing our life with you and I know my family especially would like me to continue our story. I've decided to start a private blog in an attempt to meet the best of both private and public worlds.

If you'd like to receive an invite to our private blog, please email me or leave me a message here. Thanks!
--Lisa

Saturday, May 2, 2009

...to our advantage

So Reagan helps Danny in the basement a lot. He's currently finishing the downstairs bathroom which will ultimately be nicer than OUR bathroom. Guests, prepare yourselves for luxury!

Reagan hands Danny tools and scribbles on the wood. She carries a tape measure and flings it around, nearly blinding herself every other second. She knows where all the "parts" are going for the bathroom: sink over here, shower here, toilet there. She knows what color she wants the walls to be when it's done. She's really been a major par of the whole renovation process.

Today we took that a step further. Danny called both lumber yards in town to discover that on Saturdays, neither place does home delivery. We didn't have a way to pick up the last few pieces of sheet rock. With sadness in his Bob the Builder heart, my hubby took his assistant and went to the lumber yard anyway. He figured he'd order what he wanted and we could have it delivered this next week.

Thirty minutes went by. Then they returned. Reagan bounded over to me with one of those small, brown paper bags meant to carry nails and just when I was about to scold Danny for letting her play with nails (again), I realized it was full of M&Ms. So was her mouth. Danny explained that the lumber yard owner had basically been charmed out of his socks by our daughter. He provided her with a quarter and showed her how to work his M&M dispenser (thank you, Mr. Lumber yard man). He then declared that for Reagan, he'd send out a delivery guy on Saturday.

Sure enough, moments later, our sheet rock arrived.

Tonight I'm making a list of other ways we can use this little girl to our advantage. By all means, send suggestions our way.

The Lollipop Lie

Turns out, Reagan has been humoring me for goodness knows how long.

Last July we flew to see my parents. Prior to the trip, I purchased a jumbo bag of those Dum Dum lollipops with which to pacify our toddler on the airplane. I still have tons of them left and I dole them out in moments of desperation now and then. Reagan does not know I have them. Or maybe I should say, I didn't think Reagan knew that I had them...

Our bank must have the same bag of lollipops and when we make deposits, Reagan withdraws one of their stash. They know she prefers pink or blue over white ones (well, the white ones are coconut so who can blame her?). They even give them to me when she's NOT in the car. "Oh, save this for Reagan!" The ladies in the window fork over lollipops when Reagan is unconscious, drooling in the backseat. They really like giving those things away and Reagan really likes eating them.

A few months ago I began using this give and take relationship to my advantage. I purposely manipulate our bank visits according to my needs.

For instance, Reagan never wants to leave the library. The librarians think she's a rock star. The books and toys are a draw plus she gets to make a craft if we actually make it there for Toddler Time. I use the bank as an excuse. The instant I mention her beloved lollipop vendor, Reagan is at the counter, ready to "pay" for our books and get the heck out of there. She sprints to the door, anticipating the sugary slurping that awaits her.

The thing is, I don't always have banking business despite my evil plotting otherwise. However, this hasn't stopped me from telling the teeniest, most innocent little lie. I quietly dig in my purse to locate a lollipop from my secret supply while I navigate over to the bank. I drive through the lane that goes by the drive-thru window but I don't stop. Then I cry out, "Thank you, Bank!" and I toss a lollipop into Reagan's lap behind me. My adorable daughter thanks the bank too and sometimes even raises her lollipop in a little salute to the ladies as we whiz by them.

I'm so sneaky. I'm so clever. Reagan connects the lollipop fairies solely with the bank. She does not beg for one at any other time. She does not seek them in my purse or offer them to other children in front of their parents who would then judge me for letting her have sweets. Nope. None of that. She is oblivious!

Only she's not.

Wednesday of this week we had errands to run in the city. Reagan can only be strapped into her car seat for so long before she basically loses all reason and cries and cries and strains for release. Trying to pacify her isn't easy on a good day but this particular cry fest happened during torrential rain while her father was navigating rush hour traffic in a part of the city we don't know well. Reagan moaned, "Lollipop, lollipop" in a ridiculously pathetic manner. I towed the party line, "Sweetie, I have to go to the bank for lollipops, remember? Maybe Daddy can swing us through the bank," I offered. (This earned me a death glare from my beloved husband).

Reagan wasn't having it. She sat up in her seat, looked me in the eye and said, "You have lollipops in your purse, Mommy...remember?" And then she pointed to the very pocket where the lollipops reside. I hadn't fooled her at all. She was playing along with me, letting me think I was in charge and on top of things.

Obviously, I gave her the darn lollipop. The gig is up. The lollipop lie is no more. But she still doesn't know toys can leave the store....

Monday, April 13, 2009

Thirsty Rabbit, water is for plants!

Mondays are the day I run around town attempting to do all the things that should have been done the previous week. I buy groceries, go to bank, the post office, the dry cleaners and anywhere else I have business. Reagan goes to Kidz Day Out (again, apologies for the incorrect spelling of Kidz) where she lives large playing with 20 of her closest friends. We both thrive from this time apart. I get writing done. She finger paints. I fold clothes. She bickers lovingly with Judah over toys. I go to the bathroom without an audience. She puts on puppet shows. It's a great system and the benefits are endless. The latest joy to come from this arrangement is a new member to our household.

Reagan recently made a "Chia Pet" out of a black sock filled with potting soil and grass seed. She is a bunny rabbit with googly eyes and a pink bow holding back her ears. Reagan made her at Kidz Day Out, of course and we all watched with fascination as the sock slowly but surely produced green "fur" as the grass grew in over the last few days. The bunny sits on the floor by all the other plants soaking up the sunshine from our big south-facing glass doors. I've been watering the rabbit on my own until this weekend.

Saturday I told Reagan, "It's time to give your bunny something to drink, Sweetie." She looked at me with a puzzled expression on her mouth and said, "What?" I filled a glass with water and poured it on the rabbit's back. "I said, let's give your rabbit something to drink. She's thirsty." Reagan stared at the rabbit and then at me and finally said, "Rabbit no thirsty, Mommy. Rabbit no drink. Rabbit has no mouth!" She pointed at her little bunny's face with emphasis.

And she's right. Her rabbit is certainly lacking a mouth with which to drink. I attempted to explain what I meant to our little Miss Literal but finally gave up. She can be stubborn sometimes and goodness knows where she gets that. I said, "Ok, Reagan. You're right. Your rabbit does not have a mouth. She can't take a drink. Let's wash her fur with this water, shall we?" That seemed to satisfy her so today when she gets home from Kidz Day Out, her rabbit will receive another bath on her green, furry back. I'll do my best not splash her eyeballs or the spot where her mouth should be.

Note to self, either don't encourage her to believe the sock filled with soil is an actual rabbit or accept from the start that you're going to have absolutely mind boggling conversations with your two and a half year old about bunny parts and green fur.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Friday, March 6, 2009

Things That Go Bump...

I'm a light sleeper. I wake up with the wind, cat fights, Danny's snores, my bladder and the occasional rumble of my tummy. I've been this way since college and motherhood hasn't lessened my nocturnal awareness. If it happens in or near our house at night, I know about it.

A few weeks ago, around midnight I was awakened to a cheerful voice in the darkness. I sat up and closed my eyes, all of my concentration focused on hearing the source of the talkative, upbeat sound. Finally, I got up and followed the conversation into Reagan's bedroom. Our little princess was in her usual slumbering pose--all four limbs spread out, no socks on, head back, snoring louder than her father across the hall.

I tiptoed around Reagan's domain in search of the now annoying and increasingly loud voice. I checked the bookshelves, the closet, the bed itself. (Todd was purring softly but he wasn't talking about photography. I'd finally been able to determine that the chipper voice was babbling on about picture taking). In the corner of Reagan's room loomed her toy box. I began to dig as quietly as one can through race cars, Thomas the train figures, a collection of old cellphones and a spinning top. I piled items on the floor until I realized it was the voice of Barbie that had disturbed my slumber. Reagan's grandparents gave her the pink Barbie camera I mentioned in an earlier post. Miss Legs herself was saying phrases like, "Smile for the camera! This one is for the yearbook! Can you make a funny face?"

No one had turned on the camera. She just decided to communicate with the other toys or something. Maybe the camera is really a portal into Barbie's world. I don't know. I do know that I could not shut it off (thanks Papa and Nai Nai) and I couldn't get it to stop talking! I set it up on the shelf, all alone, not touching anything and waited for it to turn off automatically. No such luck. I frantically tried to remove its batteries but that required a screwdriver and apparently I'd left mine in my other set of pajamas.

Finally, in an act of sleep-deprived desperation I put the camera on a shelf in the garage where I couldn't hear it from inside. The cats woke up and stared first at the camera and then at me as if to say, "What the..." but I left before they could finish the sentence.

Kissing Like a Princess

You know how Reagan likes to kiss. She bestows smooches like some people smile. She's pretty free and easy with her lips, I readily admit that. It's never really concerned me before because after all, she's 2.5 years old, positively adorable and has ceased that animal cracker drool she used to slop around when she gave out kisses. She's really not disgusting about it at all anymore. She's a pro.

Yesterday Reagan and I watched "Aladdin" which is one of my favorite Disney movies (I have maybe 10 favorite Disney movies; I'm a huge fan of the "old" ones). When Jasmine and Aladdin kissed, Reagan leaned forward for deep analysis. Then she announced that she wanted to kiss like a princess. She talked about that kiss for a good 10 minutes off and on as the rest of the story unfolded.

When Aladdin and Jasmine kissed again at the end of the movie, Reagan leaned toward me and whispered very solemnly, "Mommy, Reagan kiss my Judah like that." I said, "What?" So she repeated her declaration. I said, "Well, sweetie, Judah has to want to kiss you back and I don't see that happening any time soon. That kind of kissing is for grown ups." Reagan listened to me (or at least pretended to) and then she said, "Reagan kiss my Jackson like that." I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Reagan! Are you going to kiss both Jackson and Judah?! That's not going to fly with those boys. You'll have to pick one boy to kiss." Reagan sighed. Then she said, "I don't think so, Mommy. My Judah and my Jackson love Reagan."

We do not worry about Reagan's self confidence, in case you're wondering. I think I'll put "Aladdin" on the shelf for awhile.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Say Cheese...

Reagan's daddy is really into photography and his daughter is a very willing model for him on a near daily basis. We knew she knew what went on for the subject of a photograph. She cheeses it up quite willingly. We didn't realize, however, that she's also been paying attention to the other side of the camera.

Tonight I was grant writing (so what else is new?) and Danny was folding clothes and doing chores around the house. Reagan flit between her parents, singing songs, riding in the laundry basket, eating an orange and generally being adorable.

At one point I saw Reagan pull Danny's tripod from the office closet but I thought nothing of it. She's played with it before.

Minutes later I heard my daughter chirp, "Say cheese, Mommy!" I turned around and she'd set up the tripod on her own. Perched on its top was her pink Barbie camera. Reagan was hunched down behind the tripod, eye squinted, finger posed over the "click" button.

Look out Ansel Adams.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Our Big Girl

Reagan is potty trained. Have I mentioned this? If not, consider yourself lucky. I tell everyone I meet including the woman who cleaned my teeth today at the dentist's office. A potty trained child is right up there with TCBY yogurt and a best friend to share it with (one who encourages you to buy the larger size and does not judge you when you consume it in record time).

Reagan began her training on a Sunday and by Thursday was accident free. She now goes in and out of the bathroom without accompaniment and just reports her business casually as she returns to play. Sometimes I don't even know she's gone.

Even as I celebrate this freedom, this fabulous ick-free state...I stop to wonder where the time has gone. Where is that baby who couldn't crawl, who wore size 2 diapers and clung so tightly to me as we left the Hunan Province Civil Affairs office? She's 14 pounds ago. She's four sizes in clothes ago. She's a hop, skip and a somersault ago. She's gone.

But then just when my eyes fill with tears and I can't stand how much I miss my baby, my big girl comes running over with her arms in the air. "Hold me, Mommy! Hold me." And I do.

Maybe our big girl is still our baby after all.

Our Gourmet Chef and the Kitchen of her Dreams

As many of you know, Reagan enjoys a nice, tasty meal of brightly-colored plastic fruit now and then. She also chows down a good hamburger with everything on it. She has intently played with her faux food and multiple tea sets for over a year.

However, the real prize, the ultimate in fake dinner preparation was the pastel plastic kitchen her parents were never going to buy her. She plays with one at Kidz Day Out (they spell it with a "Z"; my apologies to the English language) every Monday. When we attended a church with a nursery kitchen, she could always be found there when I went to claim her after services. Her mom and daddy are against giant plastic playthings on principle and we vowed not to purchase one. Because Reagan doesn't fully understand stores and toy accumulation, she's never asked us for one. It's easy to say no to a non-request.

A friend recently shared with me that her son had outgrown his ginormous kitchen and wouldn't Reagan enjoy it? I knew she would, of course. I knew she'd be thrilled but inside me a voice cried out, "Don't do it, Lisa! Don't give in to the landfill madness!" I told the voice to shut up and we gratefully accepted the kitchen (which is taller than Reagan) for our little culinary guru.

Reagan's happiness knows no bounds. She plays with it non-stop, often wearing the little chef's apron and hat which accompanied it into our home. Our friend's son also bestowed all of his plastic edibles on our daughter so Reagan is beside her self, festooned in multiple layers of veggies and rock hard waffles.

We eat her creations whether she cooks the meal in the dishwasher or the microwave. We make smacking sounds and she insists our tongues touch the ice cream cone for a more lifelike action. (I'm constantly wiping food items down with Lysol wipes when Reagan isn't looking). She warns us when food is hot and instructs us to blow on it...often demonstrating and thus sharing her hot, moist breath with her diners.

She is in bliss and we, as her parents, grudgingly admit that the kitchen has a place in our home as long as our daughter delights in it so. Also, I'm fairly certain Danny plays with it even when Reagan's not around.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Tale of the Lost Naps

People email me pretty often these days asking why I’m not updating the blog like I once did. I apologize. Let me tell you a story to try to explain my current situation….

Once upon a time, in an average home in an average American town, a little family lived out their days. The daddy went to work each morning. The mommy wrote press releases and grants and cared for her daughter. The daughter played all morning, ate lunch and then took a two-hour nap during which her mother updated the family blog, cleaned, paid bills, prepped supper, brushed her teeth, finished writing assignments or caught a few ZZZs herself. All was well in the world.

One cold day in mid-November 2008, the daughter declared herself beyond napping. “No more naps, Mommy!” she announced with her little hands on her hips and her head tilted just so. And despite the mommy’s best efforts to manipulate the situation, the daughter really was done with naps. No amount of begging, bribing, yelling or praying influenced the daughter’s resolute decision. Her napping days were over.

Thus the mommy’s world was turned upside down. The family blog became the least of her worries. Entertaining and educating her daughter while also meeting deadlines and maintaining a clean, safe home became all she could do. She suffered through the holiday season trying to be merry and bright, all the while staggering under the weight of life with a toddler who no longer napped.

Slowly but surely the mommy has adjusted to a complete lack of alone time and the constant chatter of her daughter who only sleeps at night and never, ever takes even an extended blink during the daylight hours. The mommy hopes to share with you more of the family’s adventures as time and energy allow. They will live happily ever after, right before your eyes on this very blog.

This story was inspired by true events.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Happy New Year!


We brought in the Year of the Ox by celebrating with other area families with children from China. We are so blessed to have many Chinese American kiddos in our state! Here's my favorite picture of the evening with our darling, innocent child squeezing her new friend into hysterics. We also uploaded pictures to our Flickr account if you want to see more! Happy New Year! Xin Nian Kuai Le!


http://www.flickr.com/photos/84389878@N00/

Friday, January 23, 2009

Take Your Vitamins Every Day

Reagan's Nai Nai (my mom) is really into vitamins. She has a tray (which I would use for breakfast in bed if it were mine) that lives on her kitchen counter. Every inch of it is covered in pill bottles and we have no pharmacists in the family. Short ones, tall ones, fat ones and they all fix something or build something or make something function better. She takes her vitamins and supplements daily at breakfast. When she travels, she carries her beloved supply in a big Ziploc bag and proceeds to spread them out and take inventory whenever given the opportunity.

During our Christmas visit, Reagan spent several mornings quizzing Nai Nai about vitamins in general--their individual purposes, tastes, colors and size. Nai Nai explained them as she downed them. Reagan watched in fascination.

At home Reagan eats her own vitamin each morning in the shapes of Bam Bam, Pebbles or Dino. I swallow one of the Flintstones down myself now and then for good measure and a little trip down memory lane.

I had no idea how much of an effect those vitamins had on Reagan until this morning. We were stir crazy. I suggested shopping and Reagan jumped up, nodding her head vigorously. "Yes, please!"

We headed to Walgreens and perused the aisles picking up chapstick, toothpaste and cheese sticks along the way. We made our way down the vitamin aisle purely because I wasn't yet ready to go back into the cold outdoors. At once Reagan starts bouncing around in the cart. She leaned this way and that, spinning her neck around like a demon-possessed kid in a B movie.

"Where Nai Nai? Where Nai Nai go? Nai Nai here!!" I couldn't figure it out. We hadn't even been discussing my mother. Now Reagan was leaning toward the shelves...the shelves of vitamins. She pointed and reached and pointed some more because her mother isn't the sharpest crayon in the box.

"Nai Nai's vitamins! Nai Nai here with vitamins!" And she was right. We were in Nai Nai's Utopia, the vitamin aisle. We were surrounded by brown bottles and giant letters like E, D and A. I explained to Reagan that Nai Nai was in Colorado with Papa and that other people in the world take vitamins, too. (Though, knowing the size of my mom's collection, I appreciate Reagan's opinion that all the vitamins known to humankind are Nai Nai's).

She was disappointed to say the least. We headed for checkout in silence and on the way out to the car, Reagan leaned in to me to protect herself from the wind. She whispered in my ear one more time, "Nai Nai's vitamins in there."