Buzz buzz.

I bought Sonja this bumblebee costume for her to wear to her Preschool for Hallowe'en. She has a butterfly costume that is nice and warm and perfect for trick-or-treating, but it is not so great for being indoors.

I love this costume; it's simply adorable. But I couldn't help but wonder why a little girl would want to dress up as an insect that can sting her and make her hurt and cry. Sonja was stung by a wasp on her pinky toe a few weeks ago and it was pretty scary. She hasn't forgotten, but she had no qualms about dressing up as a bee.

Besides wasps and bees are related and well, bees make honey and honey is downright awesome. Mmm.

Typical adult-style over thinking: the costume is a frilly dress that comes with a wand and pom-pom antennae. It's girly and cute and fun. No brainer.

How lucky they are.

The moment I tell Haven that it's time to eat, she calls for Sonja. And when I say Haven calls for Sonja, I mean that she yells out a noise that definitely means that she's calling out for someone, although it doesn't sound anything like Sonja's name. "Ahhhn-uuuunnnng" is a good example, the second syllable with a lower inflection than the first. Without fail, she calls Sonja before she does anything else. 


Often Sonja will be doing something; she'll be busy and not ready to come to the table yet. Haven keeps calling and calling, even when I'm doing up the straps on her high chair. In fact she won't really stop until I make sure Sonja is coming to the table. 


I love it because it shows how important it is to Haven that her sister doesn't miss out. 

There's a lot of sisterly love going on. Sonja makes a point of kissing Haven first thing in the morning, often whether Haven likes it or not. She also loves to hold Haven down and zurbit her big belly ...again, whether Haven likes it or not. 


Sonja is also very specific with Haven about how they should play and she always instructs her younger sister on every detail of the games they play together. Sonja means well; I can hear in her voice that she feels she is helping Haven play properly. 


And while there is an obvious physical advantage to being the older sister, Haven likes to defy that with an ear-splitting screech and often an iron-gripped pinch coupled with a welt-inducing scratch. It's funny how what originally begins as an expression of affection quickly degrades into greco-roman wrestling, toddler style.

Yet there are many genuine moments of tenderness between the girls. I'll be washing the dishes or tidying up and I'll hear some squealing, fully anticipating screams of anger from an ensuing fight. I'll open my mouth to call out to Haven and Sonja to cut it out and then all of a sudden they'll be laughing their little guts out, tickling each other, or chasing each other around the house. 


I always shake my head at how quickly they can go from sounding like they're going to kill each other to sounding like whatever they're doing together is the funniest thing ever. It takes me by surprise every time; I guess I always anticipate the worst.

The younger one idolizes the older one, the older one adores the younger one. With that much love between them, I can only hope that when they're older they can stop fighting long enough to realize how lucky they are to have each other. 

I see it; I would have given just about anything to have had a sister growing up.

Field trip.

Sonja had her very first field trip with her preschool today and Haven and I were able to go along. We joined her beloved Teacher Tara and the rest of her classmates at Oldfield Orchard, where we had a complete tour of the farm. 

We saw donkeys, goats, sheep and ducks, and we also saw a whole flock of chickens in a unique chicken run underneath the expansive canopy of several hundred kiwi vines. Those were some of the happiest chickens I have ever seen and some of the biggest kiwis I've ever seen. I'll definitely be buying some of those kiwis when the fruit is ready for picking next month.

All the kids had a fantastic time picking apples, feeding sheep, drinking real pressed-apple cider and going on two separate rides on large wagons pulled by a tractor. The tour ended with each child picking out their very own small pumpkin.

It was a super enjoyable time and it was so great to see Sonja with all her new friends. It was also pretty fun to watch Haven hold her own with kids twice her age; she simply doesn't see herself as being smaller than any of them. Haven is also completely in love with Teacher Tara and kept waving goodbye to her long after we had left the group and were back at the car. I'm pretty sure that when the time comes for her to attend preschool, she'll be ready.

Trying to reach the dangling ornamental pumpkins with Patrick.

Communing with the happy chickens.

Picking apples. Haven actually said "apple," but then wouldn't say it again.

Waiting for the tractor to start.

Haven finds a pencil crayon. Random, but typical.

Everyone had a great time playing with the old-fashioned water pumps.

Sitting on hay bales, waiting for apple cider.

Pay dirt.

That's all.

Thank goodness for the giggles.

Every little belly laugh, guffaw, snicker and snort. Even the laugh-induced nostril bubble. A squealing, squirming, jumping-up-and-down laugh fest.


Thank goodness for the single moments.

The simple and perfect moments when I marvel that you even exist. When I almost cry from my love for you. Well, I won't lie, there are often tears, but they're happy.

Thank goodness for the light in those eyes.

It's that light that reminds me that one day you'll look back on all this and call it your Childhood. It's what compels me to help make this time everything you need to be able to look back with a smile.

Thank goodness for your will.

The bone of contention, the clash point, the times I feel I will lose my sanity. Yes, thank you for your will, because it's yours and it's what will keep you strong in this life. Never lose your will, your stubbornness, your sheer strength. I will do my utmost to foster it, to help direct it, to cheer you on. Don't ever let anyone douse that fire; your fire.

Just thank goodness, that's all.

Playing the game.

I recently posted a status on Facebook saying, "The sooner I realize and accept that my children are in no way interested in making my life easier, the more ...resigned I will be. In a good way." I've been thinking about it ever since.

Since writing this status update, I've actually heard myself speak the words, "Sonja, can you please just (insert task here)? It would make my life so much easier right now." Needless to say, my plea does nothing to make my life easier; if anything the very act of saying this out loud increases my stress level. Feeling like a fool has never appealed to my ego and voicing such a vulnerable request serves only to hand over what little control I hope to gain in the given situation. In other words, having to ask for respect from a three-year-old child is akin to admitting you'll never get the respect you seek.


This isn't to say that Sonja can't be talked with about respect. We've spoken about it many times, but the timing has to be right. It has to be at a time when we are both feeling comfortable and happy; when talking and being together is enjoyable and easy. The moment I'm tense, Sonja knows it and all is lost unless I shove my nagging ego aside and work to right the ship. I'm a worse metaphorical sailor than I am a nautical one; I can likely count on one hand the number of times I've successfully saved the situation. 


And yet I've discovered a word that has given me some hope: "game". I've often felt at the mercy of a manipulation when things turn for the worse with Sonja. It's often seemed that she is egging me on somehow and even though I know I shouldn't fall for it, I totally fall for it to varying degrees. I've kicked myself for it many times and have vowed over and over to calm down and talk with Sonja about the situation instead of letting it get the best of me. And then one day, exasperated, I said to her, "Sonja, I don't like this game and I don't want to play it." Suddenly I felt like I had a foothold on my own sliding patience and the look on Sonja's face told me that she knew her jig was up.

At first I felt empowered, but I quickly realized that the last thing I wanted was for Sonja to feel badly, or worse, belittled. I took some breaths, got down to her eye level and explained as best as I could that I was losing my patience because I felt like she was playing a game that was designed to upset me. I struggled to talk with Sonja using language and concepts that she would grasp; finally I just said, "Your game was really frustrating me and I felt like it didn't bother you that I was getting upset. It would upset me a lot if you got upset, so please remember that." It was the best I could do at the time and I'm not sure she understood (or wanted to understand) completely, but since then I've used the word "game" quite a few times with Sonja and she knows right away that it means I'm trying to put an end to her tactic. The phrase "I don't want to play this game" has become a quick way to nip my rising frustration in the bud.


I don't think this is the perfect way of talking with Sonja or dealing with my frustrations, far from it, but it feels like a starting point. I'm hopeful that it will give me a place to start when I need to calmly explain my feelings to my daughters at a time when I may feel like screaming. Sonja is too lovely, smart and beautiful to deserve anything less than my best effort. As long as I can remember to breathe...

Back in the day.

I don't dread getting old. Well, I definitely hope I'm able to remain vital; still being a runner into my eighties would be a definite bonus. I do think about getting older, but more in the context of watching my kids grow up and wondering what they'll be like. ...and how they'll see me.

But I also think a lot about being older and looking back on this time of our lives, when Sonja and Haven were little ones. I think about how happy I'll be that we have all of these pictures to look back on to remember what we all looked like back in the day. I'm happy they'll be able to see how utterly beautiful they were. 

Sonja and I were talking the other day about how she is growing older (she likes to talk about how she used to be a baby but now she's getting bigger) and we started talking about her baby pictures. I've made a point of making her and Haven their own photo albums so they can look at pictures of themselves as babies. I told her that when she is all grown up she will have thousands of photos of her childhood to look back on. I was so pleased to tell her this that I felt tears in my eyes. 

Lovely.

Haven is practicing different sounds and I'm getting an idea what her speaking voice will sound like, aside from the shrieking, grunting, giggling and "dada"ing we normally hear all day. She moves her tongue around in her mouth while using her voice and when she finds a noise that pleases her, she pauses and then repeats it again and again, playing with volume and inflection. She appreciates it when I mimic her and follow her lead.  I could watch and listen to her do this all day, but inevitably she loses interest, or is distracted by something and it's over until the next time. I suppose that it is this fleeting quality that keeps it so appealing.

Sonja is making fast friends at the playground. She will approach any little girl of similar age and introduce herself, usually with a wave just centimetres from the little girl's nose. Within seconds, she is trying to hug or even kiss this little girl and will quickly grab her hand to drag her off to play. She has been lucky that most of these girls have gotten over their initial apprehension and have played with Sonja really well. There have been a couple instances when the girl is either too surprised or too nervous to play along and I've had to explain to Sonja that not everyone will want to play, even when you introduce yourself so nicely. I've had to explain to a few parents that Sonja means well with her almost-aggressive affection. And not surprisingly, tears have ensued a couple of times when we've had to say goodbye to a newfound best friend.

My girls. May they always be this lovely.