The moment I take the lens cap off the camera, Stella starts doing this odd pose-down that involves her shrunken apple face and disco pointing fingers. This time, I begged her to just smile her normalest smile. It sorta worked.
Category Archives: Stella
Keep her away from the sugar.
Feliz Cumpleaños ParTEE!
And here you have it oh father-in-law of mine. My gift to you. The opportunity to SEE your precious grand-children exactly as they are, with all the screaming, crying, look-at-me-look-at-me chaos, and then getting to walk away and actually enjoy your day on your own terms.
Happy Birthday, big guy.
140 characters in Twitter won’t even come close to summing this one up.
7:45pm: Realize Blanket has inadvertently been left in cubby at school
7:45-9:00pm: Screaming / Crying / Screaming / Crying / Collapse in complete emotional exhaustion
9:00-10:00pm: TV remote turns up missing and Doorknob Toucher spends an hour flipping the house inside out trying to locate it
12:00am: Dog initiates heated conversation with raccoons on front porch
4:45am: “Blaaaaannnnnnnket!”
7:34am: Belligerent 4-year-old allows dog to escape through garage
7:35am: 20 minutes of dog chasing through neighborhood marshland
8:00am: Long anticipated Blanket reunion
8:15am: Knock tooth on play structure and bleed all over blanket
8:17am: Blanket quarantined into plastic bag – back in cubby
8:25am: Call dentist to find out if toddler dentures will be in our future
8:30am: Afraid to leave office for fear that an anvil will fall on my head
Bunk Mates
After months of threatening, and weeks and weeks of researching, we finally made an impulse decision, and bought the kids a set of bunk beds yesterday. We ultimately came to the realization that they are BUNK BEDS and not a set of heirloom Chippendale end tables, and went with the $299 version we found at a local furniture store. They fit our minimum criteria of solid “not dark” wood and were convertible into separate beds, for that moment when Stella starts complaining that she caught Porter secretly snooping through her text message log and whines about having to share her room with her like totally lame younger brother.
If I would have written this last night I would have expounded about the effortless bedtime ritual. Tonight, on the other hand, required a licensed counselor. Stella missed her old bed. Porter required not one, not two, not, three, but seven or eight bedtime rituals before he was content to voluntarily go down for the night. By the time we were finally able to leave their room without subsequent screaming, it was almost 9:30pm.
Right before Stella went to bed last night I reminded her where the stairs on her new bed were and told her that if she had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and couldn’t find them to just yell for me. I would much rather deal with the inevitable night waking than the middle-of-the-night-sheet-changing. And so, at 4:55am I heard the call, and was (moderately) happy to heed the call. The unfortunate downside to this predicament is that she woke herself up enough to have difficulty getting herself back to sleep. Finally, after three return visits, I insisted she just get into bed with us so that I could get another hour of sleep. Steve was already up and surfing the internet by the time Porter shuffled out of bed, and so I suggested he climb in with Stella and I. That lasted all of about seven and a half seconds before all three of us were up and ready for the day.
I am fully prepared for the fact that for tonight and many nights forward, I will again be summoned as a middle-of-the-night bathroom wingman. It’s not like it is anything new, considering I have to make the usual nocturnal runs for the single purpose of standing sentinel while she attends to her business. This is, obviously, the earliest form of the Female Group Bathroom Run. And I guess all I can say is, “Don’t worry Stel, I got your back.”
She Shoots, She Scores, She Laughs, She Cries
Yesterday was the, ahem, kick-off to Stella’s first soccer season. And for those who haven’t witnessed the joy and splendor of the Under 6 category of youth soccer, you have not lived the joy and sorrow of life. And Stella was no exception. Anyone who has ever met my daughter will back me up when I say that this girl was built for physical activity. It’s a perfect trifecta of 1.) physical powerhouse, 2.) bottomless pit of energy, and 3.) a relentless desire to be a participator. And let me just say that in sports, this girl has found her calling.
She went to her first practice on Tuesday where we met her new team-mates and coach. And can I just say that when I use the word “practice” I am using this term in its loosest possible definition. Watching a group of 4 and 5 year olds vie for control of a mini-soccer ball is like watching an drunk swarm of bees. With crying.
I was thrilled to find that their coach is the embodiment patience and enthusiasm. He interjected nothing but fun, supportive and happy mojo throughout the entire process, and was quick to accommodate in whatever way made the process a positive and fun experience for these aspiring footballers. Pervasive throughout each moment of joy and sorrow there was one consistent and clear message: just have fun.
As for my girl, she wore her uniform every day for the three preceding days leading up to the game, however had a somewhat disappointing experience when attempting to do some home practicing. Yes, we have a great yard for kicking the ball around, but we also have a dog who can fit the entire ball in his mouth – and subsequently run off with it. Cue the crying…and the 4-year-old equivalent of cussing out the dog.
And although practice was entertainment worthy of network television, I knew that game day was going to be the epicenter of color-coordinated soccer-loving crazy. Their games are not officially scored, and the refs were well versed in the enforcement of emotional harmony over strict adherence to official league regulations. Want to shoot your goal into the neighboring field’s net? Sure! Covertly use your hands to bump the ball back in the other direction? Well, okay. Just this once. Need an emergency pee break mid-quarter? No problem. We’ll see you when you get back.
Life moves so quickly these days, and my ability to blur out the rest of the world and reflect entirely on my kids as individuals doesn’t come nearly as frequently as I would like. Yesterday was a gimme. There was no way I could look out on that field at that little girl so earnestly participating and not feel nostalgic. Once that first whistle blew, and she was out there on that field she was wholly engrossed in the task at hand, running and kicking her little heart out – and sometimes even within the boundaries of the field she was playing in.
