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Is spending too much time on eBay looking for a new pair of shoes for Bear a good excuse for not updating this blog in quite awhile? Probably not. I have a couple of pairs that I’m “watching” though. I tend not to enjoy the bidding aspect of eBay, which results in a lot of watching and waiting. In the past, whenever I’ve found something that I want – usually after a lot of research and scrutinizing – I have placed a bid only to lose to someone more eBay-savy than myself. And then, I’ll spend a good hour or two mad about it. Isn’t the “Buy Now” feature easier? If only I could find good Stride Rite shoes for less than $30 somewhere else. Bear is about to grow out the last pair that I bought her at a consignment sale in, um September, so we’re going to need a new pair very soon, and I grew weary of the monthly Target shoe purchases this summer. I bought monthly not because she grew out of them, but because they fell apart. The last pair Bear had from there, the ladies at daycare actually asked me not to send her back in them. They wouldn’t stay on, and she kept tripping on them. Hence, all of my time wasted on eBay, and I still have no shoes to show for it.
Instead of Trick-or-Treating this year, we took Bear to the zoo. Fortunately, she is too young to really understand that she was missing the opportunity to amass a lot of candy. Next year, candy avoidance is going to be much more difficult. Hopefully, by that time, she will have outgrown her soy allergy. I feel like we could work around the peanut allergy, but soy is in nearly Every Single Piece of candy that I looked at. Finally, I purchased a package of special allergy-free Sour Worms at Whole Foods. The package indicated that it had 20 packs of worms inside. When I opened the package and took out a pack to give to Bear, I found that it had ONE worm inside. Yes, one. As did each and every other pack. I bought 20 allergy-free sour worms for $6.00, which works out to 30 cents a worm.
Aside from the lack of candy, Bear had a great time. She recovered from the stomach flu (yes, that came to visit us a week after Hand, Foot, & Mouth Disease), and she loved dressing up for her daycare Halloween party. She was the last to leave, and we literally had to drag her out of the building. We treated Bear to the zoo next, and since her favorite books right now are Goodnight, Gorilla and I am a Zookeeper, she was delighted to see the animals.
We kept seeing another young couple with a sleeping baby at each exhibit. Bear refused to ride in the stroller and for awhile, Dad carried her on his shoulders. Before a long walk back from Africa, we decided that she needed to ride in her stroller, and we gave her no choice but to get inside. Bear screamed and howled and trashed and kicked. I noticed the young couple watching us. As we walked away with a yowling Bear, I told my husband that they were thinking one of two things: Either “That’s what we have coming next,” or “Our child will never act like that.” I remember thinking something similar to the latter one day as a little boy followed me around a store beating on a drum. Every time I turned around, he’d stop and walk the other way. As soon as I started walking again, he’d follow me banging on the-most-annoying-toy-drum-ever-made. Even now, as I recount this, I am thinking, “I can guarantee that my child will never wander around a store alone,” but I am sure that someday this thought too will come back to haunt me just as that young couple’s sweetly sleeping baby will soon enter the Frequent Public Tantrum phase. I do have limited experience, but I am fairly certain that all toddlers try their parents in this way. And, I have no doubt that Bear comes by it naturally.
“Bountiful implies that your cup is already overflowing so you simply tip your abundance into the hands of others.” Christina Katz at The Prosperous Writer, “52 Qualities of Prosperous Writers: Number Thirty-Four is Bountiful.”
My cup overflows. It’s true.
I should regularly reflect on the gifts in my life so I can more fully appreciate its bounty. Instead, I often focus on the minutiae of each day rather than savoring each sweet, small moment before it has passed.
I spent the morning with my daughter. We had appointments to meet and errands to run, but before the flury of daily activity began, I sat at my kitchen table soaking in the early morning light streaming through the window in front of me as I sipped my coffee and Bear chattered in her chair about “doggy” and “cereal” and “agua.” The morning light softened her bedraggled hair and face sticky from peaches and post-nasal drip. I turned my thoughts from the piles of magazines and junk mail on the table and dirty dishes in the sink. Instead, I focused on the loveliness of sitting quietly at my kitchen table, with a warm drink in hand, and a sweet soul next to me.
Later, as we waited in an exam room for Bear’s allergist, Bear and I read a beautiful book about butterflies that my dearest friend gave us about a year ago. I pulled the book from Bear’s bookshelf today for the first time, knowing that a long doctor’s visit might be the perfect time to read it. Bear gazed lovingly at it from the moment she laid her eyes on the cover. We spent long moments lingering on each page where Bear could pull out flaps revealing elaborate garden scenes and run her fingers over vibrant butterfly wings, kingfisher feathers, and sunflowers. She continually amazed me as she pointed at the ladybugs and fireflies that I asked her to find, even though I didn’t think that she knew about such things. I found myself holding Bear a little more closely, breathing in the smell of her hair, and sending a silent thank-you to my friend for the thoughtful book that had so completely captured my daughter’s interest.
As Bear has napped this afternoon, I checked in with the world at work and found that it has not fallen apart in my absence. This has left me with a span of uninterrupted time to think and write. The dog sleeps on the floor next to me. The locusts sing and buzz soothingly outside my window, and our homebuilding neighbor builds quietly across the street. I can sit at my computer reading, thinking, and typing; embracing this rare time to be alone with my thoughts and to focus them in the directions I desire.
My husband told me earlier that his day has been passing smoothly and quickly. His work has been going well, and clients have been cooperative. Before long, he’ll drive back to our home and his family. When the garage door begins groaning and rising, the dog will scamper wildly around the house, and Bear will run to the door shouting, “Daddy!” and he will step through wearing an expectant smile at our celebration. Then, we will start our long weekend together.
All is well in my world, and I am thankful for each sweet, small moment of the day and the bountiful life they signify. I hope that by sharing the bounty that I enjoy in life, I’ll tip my cup to help fill up yours.
The first time Bear pointed at a picture of a goat in one her books and said, “Goat,” I was amazed. The child had never seen a goat in real life, and it seemed like a strange word to choose to make one of one’s first. There are not an abundance of goats in her books – only one or two that I can recall (and let me tell you, I’ve read them enough times that I would know). Sid hasn’t learned about goats in his quest to “know everything about everything.” And, even though Bear has “country” running through her blood despite being raised in the city, she would never come across a goat at our farm. So, her special attention to goats surprised me.
Today, Bear finally met a goat. In fact, she got up close and personal with several. She swatted their noses, despite being told only “soft, gentle touches.” She beat on the heads of a few goats that weren’t fast enough or cared enough to move, and she grabbed a number of crusty tails that were caked in who-knows-what (OK, I do, but I’m trying not to think about it). Bear had a good day.
After her nap, I think that I’ll pull out her one or two books where goats make an appearance and enjoy her reaction.
Last week, I went searching for a book shelf for Bear’s room. I am used to the all too frequent impulse buy at Target or the grocery store, but I thought that I would be safe shopping for furniture. I was wrong! Instead of coming away with what I went looking for, I found a sturdy, little rocker for Bear with a small book bin on the back. My sweet husband just looked at me and only raised his eyebrows a little when he saw the receipt. I was struck with buyer’s remorse as he began putting it together last night, but once I saw Bear crawl into it this morning, my foolish purchase suddenly seemed purposeful.
Bear immediately grabbed the books that I left for her there the night before. She pulled herself up onto the seat and a little smiled formed on her face. She grabbed the arms and moved her head back and forth to create a little rocking motion. Her smile grew even bigger. When it was time for “Sid,” she contentedly leaned back to focus on the television. Her look said it all: Finally, a chair for me!
I think that my husband might even approve!
Raising Brainchild 