The Karate Kid Lives On

You know you loved it. We all did. It was the 80's. Daniel-son. Mr. Miaggi. The crane kick--you know you did it. Admit it. On the playground. I was there, too. Anyway, what's not to love? We still watch it at our house. Unless you are Renese, you know exactly what I'm talking about. It's the Karate Kid movie. Well, the Karate Kid came back to life recently--in a little different form. He's a 6-year-old white kid from Colorado instead of a 15-year-old Italian kid from New Jersey. Aidan started karate lessons thanks to Grandad. He has talked about doing karate for a really long time, so I was pretty surprised when we went on the first night and he got his suit on and didn't want to participate at all. Great. It's already paid for. Get out there and do it. No, Mom. Fine. Grandad did it. Sissy did it, even. Now Daddy's up there. There goes Mommy, too. No Aidan. I don't want to push too hard. Fast forward to night #2 of karate. He's out there on the floor doing the kicks, punches, stances, and answering questions--with Mommy and Sissy. Now all 3 of us have our white belts. I'm serious. It's fun. Now he goes twice a week and loves it! However, he does have a small reservation about his instructors: he doesn't think they know how to do the kick from, you guessed it, the Karate Kid. I told you we still watch that movie.

When I Grow Up...

Breanna is a little singer. In fact, as I write this she is sitting with the headphones on singing kid songs. She also loves to help cook. She likes to sit on the counter and pour ingredients and stir. It only made sense, then, when she told us a couple days ago that she was going to be a singer-chef at church, specifically. This girl knows what she wants. When I was her age, I wanted to be a nurse. The only problem was that I didn't like needles, and I still don't. Obviously, that didn't work out. That's okay. I really do love being a Christian mommy, a business owner, volunteer (at church, Aidan's school, and La Leche League), wife, friend and painter. I think my time is pretty well filled. She can do what she wants. This is such an amazing country. That really can happen, provided the Lord doesn't return before she gets grown up. She did inform me the other day that she asked God to come into her tummy now. I think she did that so she could have communion at church. We're still working on that one. Precious are these memories.

3 weeks and counting

It has officially been 3 weeks since Breanna quit nursing. It only took 2 of those weeks for her to quit asking for it. I'm really proud of her. And she only cried to sleep in my arms 2 times. That was terrible. I just kept trying to not think, "All she wants is to nurse just a little bit. I could nurse her for just 2 seconds..." It was probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Seriously. She's my baby. She does keep telling me that she loves the nini's, though. And she does still come snuggle next to them and say, "My nini's." I don't tell her that Daddy is glad to claim them as his now...Once upon a time, they were mine. Another cute thing Breanna has been doing that I just now realized has been happening since she weaned is that she keeps telling me she loves me--about 50 times a day...literally. I might be downstairs and I will hear a little voice holler down, "I love you, Mommy!" I might be going to the bathroom (with the door closed for 10 seconds of privacy) and I hear, "I love you, Mommy!" through the crack underneath the door. It's all the time. I have to admit that it is just precious and I really do enjoy it. It's just funny. I guess all those billions of times when she was nursing, and she would look up into my eyes and smile that milky grin at me, it was her way of saying just that, "I love you, Mommy!" She is such a big girl now. In just a few short months she'll be 4-years-old. She is so into girly things now, too. This girl LOVES nail polish. The paints hers every day and mine at least once a week and the grandma's as much as possible, too. Now it is time again to get re-fitted for bras, but as I like to say, that's a blog for another day. For now, I am focusing on a new stage with my precious baby girl who is now a big girl.

I Can't Get No Satifizacation

One of my pet peaves is being forced to eat food after the point of being full (aka "cleaning your plate). It goes back to the breastfeeding thing, I'm sure. B-fed babies eat until they are full, then they stop. You can't force them to continue nursing when they are done. It's just how it works. They learn to listen to their body and what it is telling them. I love Aidan-isms and Breanna-isms. This pet peave and this week's Aidan-ism converge at the dinner table. I often ask Aidan if he is satisfied or if he is just eating because it tastes yummy. So here is the convergence: satifized. Translation: Mom, I am satisfied, so I'm done stuffing my face because it tastes good. Satifized. I just thought it was so cute. As he is learning so much, his Aidan-isms are becoming fewer and farther between. What fun they are!

Postscript

If you would like to join us for our "Bye-Bye Nini" Party, it will be this Friday at 6:00 p.m. at our house. We will be having cake and saying goodbye to Ninis. No presents, please. We are just celebrating the end of one stage and the beginning of another for Breanna. Thanks!

Bye-bye Ninis

That's it. Done. Finito. Sianara. Good bye. A bittersweet end. I am excited to have my body to myself again. After all, it has been over 6 years now since that has been the case. I am also so so and I keep crying. This morning at 6 a.m., Breanna came into my room to snuggle (a.k.a. to nini).
"Mommy, can my lovey and me sleep with you?" she asked me. Actually, I was awake--not awake-awake, but my eyes were open. If you've ever read most anything by Dr. William Sears, he talks about how mom and baby develop the same sleep pattern. If you sleep with your baby close (ie. in your bed, or close by your bed), you will notice when they are little that you will wake up about 2 seconds (literally) before they do. It's kind of weird until you understand what is happening. Anyway, this morning was one of those times. Breanna had been sleeping all night in her bed, but apparently we are still on the same sleep pattern. So here come Breanna and lovey.
"Yes, you and lovey can come into Mommy's bed, but NO nini because you ninied at bedtime." That's our deal lately. I've been trying to wean her completely, but she has really hung onto those last two nini times. And forget about those if she doesn't feel well; it will jump from 2 times to 20 times during the span of the night. She's just a comfort nurser. Fine. I get that. I cannot throw any stones. I'm sure I have mentioned this before, but I nursed until I was four. Yes, that is 4-years-old. In fact, she told me a couple days ago that she would be done with ninis when she turned 4. I don't know if that was Gram's prompting or if she came up with that on her own. In all reality, that is not far away. Her birthday is in April, but I am ready to be done now. I know some of you reading this will think that I should have weaned her 2 1/2 years ago, but until now, it has worked for our family. I wasn't ready to wean then and neither was she. Back to our story...
"Okay, Mommy. No ninis," as she climbs into bed.
"Just one nini, Mom?" Breanna asks in her sweetest little voice.
"You just agreed to no nini, Breanna," Mommy gently reminds her. Here come the waterworks--loud, boogery, squeaky waterworks. She's a little on the dramatic side. I try to calmly be logical with a 3-year-old at 6:00 a.m. Apparently kids don't go much for the logic when they are emotional (see yesterday's blog). It just escalated to yelling, more crying, more squeaking, Daddy waking up, too...you get the picture. It's not a pretty one. So I take her back into her bed, which she does NOT want to do.
"I'm done. No more. I will let you nini, but it is the LAST time--EVER!"
"Okay, Mommy, but I LIKE ninis." Breanna's crying stops. Mine starts. Sobbing. Boogers. Bawling, really. Breanna ninied *both sides* for the last time. It probably only lasted for 2 minutes at most. Nursing really is a sweet experience. You hold your baby close. Your skin touches your baby's skin. They take nourishment from your body. It is truly an amazing gift that God has given to mothers. It is always the perfect temperature. It is always just exactly what baby needs to satisfy thirst and then hunger. It is always just the right amount. If baby is sick, it is the perfect medicine. You get to smell your baby's head and stroke her hair. She looks up into your eyes because even as a newborn with poor vision, the distance between baby at the breast and mommy's eyes is exactly the right distance to see the love in mommy. Then baby smiles at you and milk runs from the corner of her mouth and it is just the sweetest, most wonderful thing ever. And now all that is over for us. Even in my excitement as I write this, I am getting all weepy again. So what wonderful thing did Breanna say after this monumental nursing session?
"Mommy, does Jesus have a dog?" It's probably not the exact phrase I would have chosen to end this significant time in both of our lives, but it was perfect. It was Breanna's choice, and that's what this has been about. Meeting her needs, so that she can be confident and free to become the sweet, bossy, beautiful angel that she is.

THAT Lady

You know the one I mean. You're in Walmart. She has a screaming 6-year-old, a three year old in tow, and she is trying to keep her cool. This 6-year-old is not just screaming, though. He's hitting, biting the cart, kicking at mom, oblivious to all other's around, and screaming at the top of his lungs things like, "I am SOOO mad at you!" "I just want that toy!" "I am not talking to you again until I am 10--no 11!" "You are so mean!" "You are so mean!" Oh, did I already say that one? I just heard it so many times that it is still repeating in my head. Yes, it was my normally sweet son who was yelling, hanging off my coat, pulling on my purse, and acting like "a bully, maniac, crazy" to put it in his words. Honestly, I was really proud of myself. I didn't lose my cool--even when I got the sympathy looks from strangers. You know, the ones that are thinking, "Oh, that poor woman. I would have beat my child to death by now if they acted like that in public." The stares. That drives me crazy. One lady watched from the optical shop and then walked to the outside door when we went out so that she could continue staring at us as we walked to our car. You can't even beat your children in public now. You can't take them to the dressing room or the bathroom; big brother is watching everywhere. Besides, Daddy had the leather belt on him at work. My knit belt would not have had the same effect. What could have caused such a terrible outburst in the middle of Walmart? A toy. The word "no." A combination of things really, but it was not something I would like to be repeating anytime soon--or ever again in my life for that matter. My kids both received a $15 gift card to Walmart for Christmas. Great! We'll use it as a counting/budgeting lesson. Wonderful! In the excitement to leave for Walmart (as Aidan explained it later), he forgot his wallet with the rest of his spending money. He wanted a toy that was more than $15. No problem. That didn't actually trigger the fit. He wanted a toy that Mommy wasn't so sure was good for him, so I told him I would talk it over with Daddy and then go from there. It sounds reasonable enough. Even logical to my ever-over-emotional brain. Apparently not to a 6-year-old boy. This toy was not something he had even played with before! He couldn't even remember the name of it--just that he had seen the cartoon before (score: 500 for commercialism, 0 for mommy-logic). Needless to say, he will be getting a Daddy spanking tonight, no tv for 2 weeks, and he has to call Uncle D and apologize. Why Uncle D, you ask? Because he is the only one in the store that I know the name and phone number of. If I had everyone else's info, Aidan would be calling them, too. If you happened to be in Walmart this afternoon, let me know and my son will be calling you, as well. The lesson I am trying to teach him is that there are consequences in life for the actions we choose. Today he made some ba-a-a-a-a-d choices. But I still love him.