Trash or Treasure

There's nothing like cleaning out a toy chest that will make a child decide that a long-forgotton, dirty, broken toy that they haven't touched in months (or even years) is the absolute BEST TOY EVER.

Or so I learned yesterday when I decided to undertake that particular project in anticipation of a slew of new toys arriving in the form of birthday presents.

The ratty old pink stuffed poodle with the missing eyes and the nose mangled worse than Michael Jackson's thanks to a certain dog named Pokey? Trash, I thought. But no. Lily spotted it and immediately caressed and cooed over it like it was her first-born child.

The lopsided, 10 cent, orange plastic sunglasses that were so scratched you couldn't see two feet in front of you if you wore them? Trash again, me thinks. But Lily promptly dons them where they sit askew on their nose and struts about like a Beverly Hills diva. Marc Jacobs sunglasses, these are not.

Then there was the non-functioning, uncapped pen from the bottom of the toy bin. Me: Doesn't work, toss it out. Lily: Said pen was topped by a blooming fake flower and of course is destined for a second life. I'm not sure, but I think she may have tried to plant it.

But along with each of these less delightful moments was a truly delightful moment where Lily re-discovered some long lost toy treasure. Like the bead your own necklace kit that led to some creative mom/daughter bonding time, the magnetic fish puzzle that lets her work her hands and her mind, and a host of other toys that kept her PLAYING all day. Not watching TV, not sitting at her computer, not pummeling Pete and Mom with endless questions. Just playing.

Now that was a true treasure.

Mom's gone? Really?

So I departed yesterday morning for a 4 1/2 day work trip. And nearly two days and three phone calls into the trip, my daughter has yet to say more than "Hi Mom" (not even a HI MOM!!!) to me on the telephone. Seems "Old McDonalds" and miscellaneous other attractions hold more appeal to her at this point.

I assumed there would be some communication walls to break down when she was about 14, but at 4?! Can't she just miss me a wee bit more?

I'm not going to deal very well when she goes off to college, am I?

Shhhh.....

I will freely admit that the posting you're about to read is a shameless attempt for me to find out who of my friends is really reading my blog, as it's deliberatedly designed to elicit a response. So here goes...

Lily is going to be a big sister.

Yep, found out 10 days ago, managed to keep the big news secret for 6 days, and told Peter (henceforth: P. Daddy) on his birthday. And he thought proposing to me on his birthday a year ago was a big surprise! Well, I got him back - in spades!

P. Daddy is jubilant. Lily's response was a bit more moderated, but safe to say she is intrigued by the possibilities.

I am most intrigued by my due date - May 26 - which means I could slide in just under the wire and push this kid out before I turn 40 on May 27. At least that's MY GOAL.

Now, I just need to find one of those "Big Sister" shirts for Lily.

The Big One

4 years, 10 months, 25 days.

The BIG DAY finally arrived. I anticipated and dreaded it at the same time. What if it all went horribly wrong? Would I break out in tears or break out in a sweat? After this day, things would never be quite the same again. Was I ready? Was she ready?

The BIG DAY was the day of Lily's first hair cut. You heard me right, the very first hair cut.

Yes, I probably thought about this day for as long and as much as I thought about my 30th birthday. Which I started thinking about when I was, oh, about 28 years old. And yes, I've probably spent a good two years or more thinking about Lily's first hair cut as well.

I'd finger her hair, letting my hands trail through her curly-Qs and think "I'm NEVER going to cut it." I'd remember that awful pixie cut I got when I was five years old (sorry Mom) and think, "I'm never going to cut it." I'd hear strangers in the grocery store tell me how beautiful she was and think, "I'm never going to cut it."

But then there were the days where she'd trot off to school looking like some wild creature from the forest because she wouldn't let me put anything in her hair to hold it back and I'd think, "I really ought to cut it." And I'd look at the stack of 21 different combs in her bathroom drawer - each an attempt to find one that could actually make its way through her snarled tangles - and I'd think, "I really ought to cut it."

I even went so far as to purchase the matching "My First Curl" and "My First Tooth" engraved keepsake boxes eons ago, but then they sat gathering dust in the front closet shelf.

And when it was all over, it was - well, it was really quite like any other day. (I can't say the same about my 30th birthday since that marked the date of my arrival in Austin, Texas!) Lily was incredibly well-behaved and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the entire process. I survived as well. So I got all worked up for nothing and I probably gave myself even more gray hairs for my trusted hairstylist to cover up. (Vicki - shhhhhh!)

And even though Lily probably gave up two inches of her hair, considering her hair is - scratch that - WAS 18 inches long, you can't even really tell by looking at it.

So now that that's over, I guess I can go on to fretting about other things.

Like when she'll be old enough to get that little patch of hair between her eyebrows waxed.

"Jinx"

So moments ago, Lily was delaying her bedtime process by insisting on applying lotion to every square inch of her body - and applying said lotion at a rate of one square inch at a time. Peter comments on her dawdling, to which she replies in a sing-song voice, "I know dawdling." And in a perfectly-timed example of marital/parental unity, Peter and I both respond, "Yes, you do." Synchronized sighs follows.

Bragging Rights and Art

Lest this blog title mislead anyone, let me first start with a disclaimer: In no way will I be bragging about my artistic ability, since said ability ranks somewhere around -2147483647 on a scale of 1-10.

But I have been feeling pretty proud of myself (read: smug) of late for at least one maternal skill I possess en masse. OK, maybe it's not so much a skill as an....well, I digress. Let me get straight to the point. Whatever other motherly faults can be attributed to me, one thing that I do dang well is chronicle Lily's childhood.

Photo albums are threatening to take over the bookcases in the living room; I've actually kept up with the baby book beyond her first 30 days on earth; I kept a (non-online) journal the first year of her life; I write this blog; I purchased her "first tooth" and "first hair locket" keepsakes years ago - even though neither has been used as of yet; I save birthday cards, programs and tickets from the circus and "Sesame Street Live"; and I even have a tape recording of her making delicious gurgling and babbling sounds when she was a baby.

Whether or not Lily will even WANT all this memorabilia when she's older is a moot point in my opinion. Better that she not want it and I have it then she want it and I don't. Any anyway, I have fun doing it.

So all this is just a big lead in (WARNING: promotional plug coming) for a fantastic new site I've discovered that combines my love to chronicle with my other pet passion - to organize something! It's a Web-based company that will digitize all your child's artwork and preserve it forever in a wonderful keepsake photo book. Forget about the glue coming off the artwork in years, or the originals getting ripped, stained or eaten by the dog. I'm not kidding on that last point - think of how many kids' art projects contain elbow macaroni. And at in least one instance of Lily's work, goldfish crackers. This solution takes care of all those contingencies. Now I'm still waiting for my final order, so I may be a bit premature in lavishing praise on the site, but the product samples online look fantastic. I can't wait to get my book. Check it out yourself if your interested. The URL is www.thepicassokid.com.

Now only if I hadn't sent in my order to The Picasso Kid before I read my friend Susie's blog http://constantlyrelocating.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2008-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-07%3A00&updated-max=2009-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=50 and saw her reference to another cool Web site that lets you make free form art out of words. http://wordle.net/. Because the word art would have made a wonderful entry in the Picasso Kid. But I did place the order - oh well - and first I have to (read: Peter has to) figure out how to enable Java applets on my work computer anyway.

Birthday Tunage

So I came across this Web site last night that tells you what the #1 song in the country was on the day you were born. http://www.joshhosler.biz/numberOneInHistory/selectMonth.htm Just for kicks, I looked up the results for me, Peter and Lily.

On the day Lilybug was born, the numero uno tune was "Baby Boy" by Beyonce. Well, the title may not have been spot on, but it was close.

On my birthday, the Beatles held the top spot on the charts with "Get Back." I couldn't help but wonder if that was a message to me to get back into Mom's womb.

And on Peter's birthday, the song was none other than Barry McGuire's "Eve of Destruction." 'Nuf said. :)