The sliding glass doors lead out of our home office on to a patio, down a small hill and to a small pond in the backyard. We’ll be in this house four years in May and every spring a family of Mallard ducks take up residence in the pond. There always seems to be more of them every year and for the last week, we’ve had over 20 ducks swimming and quacking and chasing each other (Uh, Spring is in the air?) around the pond. This, as you can imagine, is toddler heaven.

“QUACK QUACK! QUACK QUACK!”, she yells while banging on the glass. “MAMA! QUACK QUACK!”

On Sunday before nap, we went outside and fed the ducks some pieces of bread. Though still February in New England, the temperatures were warm enough to enjoy a few minutes in the fresh air.

That evening just as the sun was setting, my Dad spotted a red fox trotting toward the pond and yelled for Dan to grab his camera. He managed to capture this beautiful shot:

Shameless husband plug: Dan’s photos are available for purchase here. Become a fan on Facebook here.

Since I work from the quiet house all day, I’ve grown quite fond of these ducks. As sad as it sounds, watching them is peaceful and serene. It’s one of the reasons I love where we live as it can be isolating and calm, yet I can still get to Costco in just 3-minutes. Nature amazes, thrills, and terrifies me all at the same time. I’m not afraid of the ducks or the fox, but if a black bear wandered about, I’d change the For Sale sign in the yard to FREE and get the hell out of dodge. Still, I enjoy these ducks.

——

Lyla’s transitioning rooms at school; moving from the 12-18mo classroom to the 18-24mo classroom. Her new teacher is amazing. There are fewer kids in that class. The new room has a working sink just her size which is right up her alley since she just loves to “ahsh ands” and a play kitchen. There’s lot of art supplies and a sensory table with rice and sand toys. Great stuff. But transitioning is hard. She hasn’t spent as much time with this teacher as she had with her present ones when moving up from the infant room. The teachers she has now are terrific and she’s really close to them. Any mention of their names bring big smiles to her face. When we get in the car no matter where we are going she chants “School? School?” and her teacher’s names all the way there. She hasn’t cried at drop off in months. I get kisses and “Bye Mama!” every morning. When I go to pick her up, she’s never in a big hurry to leave. I love that she loves it there so much.

Today I attempted to drop her in the new room and it was a monumental mistake. The tears. Big, fat tears. Rolling down her big cheeks. She was clinging to me like a barnacle. Her new friends were bringing her toys trying to cheer her up, but she wouldn’t stop crying. We tried to color and play in the kitchen. I wanted her to show me her new toys and books and meet her new friends. She has been spending a few hours each day for over a week in the new room, but I had never seen it. Nothing I did or the teacher did helped calm her down. It was awful.

I wound up taking her back to her old room before I left. I couldn’t leave her upset. If one of her teachers wanted to bring her back to the new room after I had left and let her scream it out, that was fine, but I couldn’t leave her miserable. I couldn’t leave with her sad little face embedded in my mind. I got her settled next to the kids she’s used to at the table she’s used to with the caregivers she’s used to, gave her a kiss and left. She waved and smiled. With a heavy heart, I came home. This is really going to be hard.

And after this particularly difficult morning, I was even more sad to settle into my desk, peak out the sliders and see that all the ducks were gone. All but one. One lonely duck. Maybe he was asleep when his friends and family left. Maybe he was in the bathroom. Maybe he didn’t get the memo. Maybe… he just missed his flight.

Dearest Lyla,

Take this flight. It will be okay. Be brave, my little duckling.

Love,
Mama

We’ve taken The Bean to see her great Grandparents in Florida three times before. She went twice before she turned one and then once last November. Each time, as she gets bigger, is a whole new experience.

The first two times she was so little that we strapped her into a baby wearing device, my Mom borrowed an infant carrier car seat and stroller from her trainer, I nursed on the plane and bam. Easy family vacation.

This last time it got a little more difficult. She won’t sit on my lap for 2.5 hours and I don’t want her running around touching the plane (ew, plane germs) AND the infant car seat would be useless so I need to bring her car seat and pay for her to have her own seat on the plane. Not a big deal except when it comes to schlepping the car seat through the airport. AM ONE PERSON. One person that ALSO needs to bring a stroller. She’s really good about the stroller. Doesn’t complain to get out. Hangs out in there no problem. BUT. Strollers need to be pushed. Obvs.

So for our last trip, I bought this fun little thing. I strapped the Britax Roundabout to my roll along bag, put the kid in the stroller, pushed with one hand, pulled with the other and I survived. It wasn’t fun. Getting through security was an Olympic event. AND I had help. My good friend Amber and her Mom were traveling on the same flight as Lyla and I. During both legs of the trip, I got on the plane, looked at them and thanked them profusely for being there. I don’t know how I would’ve done it without them.

Yeah… Exactly. HOW the (I gave up cursing for lent) am I going to do this?

Additionally, I don’t remember the last time I checked anything on a flight. I always ship stuff ahead of time and then just get on the plane with one carry on bag. This time, I’m thinking I need to check a bag because we’ll be staying in a hotel and not with my Mom – who has all the necessary baby sh…tuff from the last time we were there. She’s offered to pack it and bring it to the hotel, but what a pain for her. And what if there’s things she forgets. I might as well just pack a suitcase, suck up the checked-baggage charge and that way I know I have what we need. However, if I’m going to check a bag, then I don’t need my rolly carry on. You know, the thing the CAR SEAT STRAPS ON TO?

Holy God.

So here we go. You tell me how to get the following large items to Florida without killing yourself or someone else. Bursting into tears and having a meltdown at the gate? Also not an option.

Umbrella stroller
Diaper Bag (also doubles as a purse)
Laptop
Britax Roundabout Car Seat
oh – and this:

PS: I have access to one of these as well, but I’m concerned about the level of effort it will take for me to attach and detach the wheels alone. I can’t trust her to stand next to me while both hands are busy. Has anyone ever used this before? I read “thumbscrews” and immediately started to hyperventilate. Overreacting much?

My lifestyle is pretty isolating. I actually don’t mind this. It might sound all kinds of sad to some of you that I’m alone all day working and that I only leave my house to either drop off or pick up my kid from daycare. I don’t have coworkers to bother me. I don’t have anyone to take a walk with to get a break. I don’t have anyone to eat lunch with or gossip about who hooked up at happy hour. Surprisingly, I ENJOY this. At times it’s lonely, sure, but for the most part, it’s fine. I am fine with it.

However, I use social media (Twitter, Facebook and the like for those of you living under a rock) to interact with people. People who I’ve been able to form relationships with via this medium. People that may only know me via this blog or via the things I post on Twitter. Some wise person I chatted with this morning said something I think is truly real,
“If your life is three dimensional, your blog is only one dimension of that.” And it’s so very true.

I spent a big part of the day yesterday unsubscribing in my reader and unfollowing people on Twitter that haven’t made an effort to interact with me. And I think this is the BEST part of this medium; the choices. In school or at work, you can decide you don’t like someone yet you need to figure out a way to be kind to their faces. Hallway etiquette. You have no choice but to look at them on a regular basis. Online? They can just be deleted. It’s a wonderful thing.

But there were also a handful of people that I couldn’t bring myself to delete. People I’ve never received a comment response from or a returned @ reply (which started out as my delete criteria). People who have written controversial blog entries that get my blood boiling. People that tweet authoritarian tweets on subjects they have no business being authoritative on OR people that consistently complain about how shitty their lives are from the comfort of their four bedroom house or from their iPhone while driving their new SUV. SHUT UP. Find something to be grateful for! Yet, I can’t disconnect. It’s like I need to give them more chances. It’s like I need them to prove to me that they are more than posts on why no one should vaccinate and why everyone should breastfeed until Kindergarten. That they’re more than the being that is fortunate enough to be home with their kids and still take three vacations a year. Let me see that there’s more to you than that. Show me your other dimensions.

I think it’s because I really don’t want to judge anyone. (Really, Self? Did you just read that last paragraph?) I, for one, HATE to be judged. Back during BlogHer09 there were quite a few posts from bloggers that did NOT attend the conference talking about how awful it was. How it was cliquey. Terms like “a sorority” and “buying friends” were thrown around. Maybe someone at BlogHer had that experience, but I didn’t. My experience was the exact opposite of that. And by making a comment – a JUDGEMENT – about something they didn’t even get to live through first hand, was really upsetting to me. Because I got lumped in there. Unfairly.

I have been really fortunate in that the people I have met in person after only knowing them online have been exactly how I imagined them to be. I’m grateful for them. I call them friends. I think about them often. I hope I know all their dimensions. I want to think that I do, but if I haven’t met you, do I really know you? Are you the person on your blog? Are you really the voice of your twitter stream? Or do you have a tendency to say things online that you wouldn’t typically say in person? Do you hide behind the ability to choose? Behind my ability to choose? If I don’t like what you have to say, then I can just unfollow/stop reading, right? Is this satisfying to you?

Who am I? I am what you see here, BUT I practice with kindness in the lead. If I don’t have anything nice to say, I don’t say it. I don’t stir drama in comments sections on other people’s blogs. I don’t write controversial political (or otherwise) posts. I’m sensitive and I write what I feel. I tweet my life. I try damn hard to refrain from whining and controversy. I simply think it’s more peaceful that way. And that it doesn’t belong in this space. I hate conflict and I wouldn’t ever want to say anything online that might hurt someone – just as I wouldn’t say anything hurtful in person. I’m just wondering if you do the same.

Do you have a criteria for this medium? Are their rules in your internet world? Are they the same as your real in-person world? Who are you?

Now that I work out of the house, I don’t really get snow days (or sick days), but I am fortunate enough that I can do my best to lighten my workload for the day and try to reschedule conference calls and pound out my day long to do list during Lyla’s 2-hour nap. My husband’s company rarely shuts down due to weather, but the local weather people scared enough folks with the forecast Wednesday that we actually had a Family Snow Day.

Tuesday, while everyone was out buying milk, bread, and diapers, I was at the craft store buying stuff to make homemade Valentine’s with Lyla. I am the least crafty person I know. There’s only one thing I’m worse at than crafts, and that’s cooking. Domesticity? We are not friends. However, I wanted to attempt to make something heart felt and personalized from the kid. I knew I had to make it as simple as possible (see above note) to avoid disaster. After spending roughly 15 minutes in the store walking in circles (fish out of water), I found kid-safe paint, construction paper, glue, foam brushes, and paper doilies.

Sidebar: Can we talk for a second about how paper doilies are in the cake making aisle? Does anyone else find this weird? I’m guessing not because you would all know that paper doilies are for putting under baked goods to absorb the oil or make them looking pretty. I? Am convinced that paper doilies only serve one purpose. And this is to make valentines. Duh.

And now, for the first time (and most likely last) ever on this blog, you will get a How To Make Simple Valentines for anyone else that shares my non-crafty gene. Seriously. This took all of 20 minutes. And that’s why I don’t feel badly posting it 2-days before Valentine’s Day because dudes, THERE IS STILL TIME. TRUST ME.

First, smock the assistant. Optional: insert binky to avoid the eating of the paint.

Second, separate all your doilies. We made ten valentines so I needed ten doiles and five pieces of red construction paper. I halved the construction paper and cut down the middle so I had ten rectangles. Then, I folded that piece in half, and free-handed half of a heart on one side. Then, cut along your pencil line, like so:

You then get something like this:

Next up? Feed the paint to the kid.

Kidding. I meant just PAINT the kid.

Then, well, this step is pretty darn obvious:

Lather, rinse, repeat with other hand and other side of heart:

Allow the paint to dry and then glue the hand printed hearts to the doilies. And voila!

(This finished sample wasn’t the best one that came out. In fact it was the first one we did and was with two right hand prints instead of a right and a left. By the time I figured out what I was doing, my photographer quit so… you get the point.)

Now HURRY! You totally still have time to make these! Need a message for the back? How about the lovely words of ee cummings,

“i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”

Happy Valentine’s Day!