1m2aSandbox

A couple days ago I was cooking in the
kitchen with Cora playing around my feet. I stepped away for a few
moments to get something out of the pantry and came back around the
corner to a sight most every Mommy dreads at this age –


A baby, on her hands and knees, rocking back and forth.

When Maddie woke up the day after
Christmas, her first words were, “I want to go see if my
trampoline is still here!” The day after that, she said,
“Let’s go look at my trampoline!” Madeleine jumps
on that thing fifty times a day, and I rejoice every time she does
so.

Ok, Christmas morning with a toddler old
enough to understand what’s happening but still young enough
to be wide-eyed and untouched by commercial greed is one of the
coolest things I’ve ever done.


Maddie was dancing in her pjs as she went to bed the night before,
awed by all the happenings: Church at night! How cool is that??
Then there was the careful deliberation for Santa’s treats:
What sort of cookies would Santa want? (She went with the chocolate
crinkles.) And don’t forget carrots for the reindeer, and a
piece of cheese for Santa Mouse. Madeleine took a long time
choosing where the plate went, the right glass for the milk,
everything. We decorated Jesus’ birthday cake for dinner the
next night. We got out our stockings and hung them up. We turned
out the lights and quietly sang “Silent Night” by the
tree, just like we had done hours earlier at church by candlelight.
Then Maddie sped off in her new pjs, our caution ringing in her
ears: “Remember, Santa knows if you’re only pretending
to sleep!”

As we stare into tomorrow’s open
space on the calendar, I find myself wishing I was Maddie, full of
anticipation and glee. She’s been looking at the stack of
presents piling higher and higher and wishing desperately, I can
tell, that she knew how to read so she could check out those gift
tags.


I, on the other hand, find myself worn to the bone with getting
Christmas ready and dealing with our home life –house buying
and selling, packing, and so on. Add to that my littlest one, who
is again getting up every hour or two at night which leaves me
sobbing helplessly at 4 a.m., and I wish I had my own Santa to
grant me a few of the things on my list. And you know what? It
turns out I’m not the only mom to feel that way.


My girlfriend Sandra passed this mom’s letter to Santa on to
me – I can’t find the author anywhere so my apologies
for not crediting you, Mom! But whoever you are, you captured
pretty perfectly some of the things I wish for. So here it is for
everyone else – enjoy! I’ll call you from my crisper
later on.

In keeping with my effort to be deliberate
about our traditions and what they teach our kids, I’ve
started a new one this year based on the typical Advent calendar
– you know, those paper things with windows to open and
pictures to see which help you count down to Christmas.


Last year I knew I wanted to find a permanent Advent calendar we
could re-use every year, becoming part of our family traditions. I
wanted a religious one, rather than a “hang a new present on
the Christmas tree” type of calendar or toy. I finally found
one that fit the bill at Constructive Playthings; with my
cheapskate patience, I waited until after Christmas and bought it
on sale for this year.

Mommyhood seems to move through two speeds
simultaneously – too fast, and interminably slow. On the one
hand, your kids seem to grow up so quickly – they’re
the same for months on end, until suddenly you really look at them
and you realize they’re a completely different person. Just
as you get used to the fact that you’ve got a baby, your baby
is a toddler and you wonder where your baby went. Blink, and time
has flown.


On the other hand, daily motherhood creeps by at a snail’s
pace, and I have to confess that this is wearing me down right now.
Yesterday was not a particularly bad day; no major meltdowns from
Maddie, no extra finicky-ness from Cora. No one needed a trip to
the doctor or popped a tooth or threw up or any of those happenings
that make you consider (briefly) committing a crime and turning
yourself in so you would have a nice quiet cell to yourself. But
still, by the time we got out the door and to the park I was nearly
in tears and looking speculatively around for someone to mug. Just
a little.

Cora’s an official seven-month-old,
and I’m entering this month with much trepidation – I
remember vividly when Maddie reached this age.


By seven months Madeleine was pretty much sleeping through the
night, but right at that age she began waking once or twice a night
and needing me to help her back to sleep. This signaled a huge
surge in developmental growth which lasted for three months, much
to my exhausted dismay. I remember those three months in a blur of
new skills, weird tricks, and little habits that almost drove me to
drink.