Skipping Town

On Sunday, May 6, Lucia made her First Communion. She'd been looking forward to this event for months, ever since starting her second year of CCD, the year when second-graders make both First Confession and First Communion. Over President's Day in Connellsville, Lucia, my mom, and I went to the little kids' clothing boutique in town and let Lucia choose a Communion dress. She was over the moon about the one she found--poofy, lacy, with buttons all the way down the back. She was also over the moon about her white patent-leather shoes, which had a small heel (not my first choice--but it's nearly impossible to find dressy girls' shoes without small heels these days); her sparkly headband; and her sheer pantyhose. She was just thrilled with the whole outfit and asked daily if she could put it on (she couldn't). In March, she had a First Communion retreat, where she got to taste a host and the wine, and practice the right way to receive both. (We also watched a vid...

When Greta turned five in October, I told her she could get her ears pierced whenever she wanted--at five, ear piercing was open to her. Lucia couldn't wait to get hers done--she'd asked to have it done for about a year before turning five, and I took her to have it done a week or so after her fifth birthday. Greta, on the other hand, was adamantly against it. She had no desire whatsoever. There was a reasonable explanation: we had problems with one of Lucia's ears; it got infected, it was terribly painful, and the hole ultimately closed and had to be re-pierced. None of that was any fun to watch. But now Lucia's ears are fine, and she gets to wear fun earrings, including dangly earrings; and one of Greta's pre-K friends got hers pierced. So, out of the blue last week, Greta announced she wanted to get her ears pierced. She didn't go back on it once. I asked her about a hundred times since her announcement, giving her many easy outs, telling her she could do i...

Let’s pause here for a moment of silence, to formally acknowledge the sad reality that Lucia no longer naps. I have been in denial about this for a few months now. Granted, she’d always give me a thread of hope—maybe once a week, maybe every ten days, she’d actually go to sleep when I put her into her crib at naptime. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was singing (or yell/singing), or lassoing her Bibi at the doorknob to pull open the door. It was getting a little ridiculous. Finally, last week, she refused to get into her crib at all, declaring that she’d have her naptime on the floor instead. My veins filled with ice. I gave an inward, Munch-like scream. Calmly, I gathered a pillow for her, told her it was quiet time, and said she had to be quiet and stay in her room. And so au revoir , Lucia’s Naptime. Lucia was never a spectacular napper even in her younger days; the very best nap-periods we ever had were maybe an hour and a half tops. Still, it was quiet. I could still my mind. I...

After one year and two weeks of breastfeeding, Greta is weaned. Last Friday, I just decided it was time. Greta is drinking cow’s milk, she’s eating a ton, and she was nursing out of habit, not any real need. So I just—stopped. I didn’t really intend to do it cold turkey, and if she’d protested, I would have kept going and phased it out gradually. But this wasn’t the case. At her morning naptime, I gave her her pacifier and blankie, snuggled her close, sang her a song, and put her in her crib. She went to sleep without a peep. Same thing for her afternoon nap, and then at bedtime. I did nurse her late that night, but the next day, that was it. She’s more or less stopped waking up during the night now (though she’s been getting up quite early, like 5:30 or 6), and she goes right to sleep at naptime and bedtime. It’s like she doesn’t even remember breastfeeding was something she used to do. Sniff. I was ready to stop, but Greta is my baby, and weaning her means I have to (sort...

Today was Lucia’s first day at nursery school. Or preschool, or co-op preschool, or whatever it is they call it these days. This was a huge decision, one Andrew and I have been debating for a few months now. We thought the decision had been made for us—by June, when we moved out here, the places we researched were all full. But I made a few queries, put us on a couple of waiting lists, and then finally found an open slot at a very small co-op nursery school that I’d heard about from both new friends and neighbors. After a tour and a nice talk with the director, we made the leap. “Leap” might be a bit too dramatic a description; it’s just two days a week, two and a half hours a day. Still, it’s her first experience with a group of kids without me around, so it is a big deal for sure. I stayed the whole time today, not because I didn’t think Lucia could handle it but because we hadn’t officially enrolled; I’d agreed with the director that we could attend the first day to be sure t...

Potty training has begun. I’ve been putting it off and putting it off and finally, on Saturday, I just didn’t put Lucia’s diaper on, explained she could have chocolate if she used the potty, and went with it. She went several times both Saturday and Sunday, with a few accidents. Monday she went just once, but our sitter was here in the morning, and then we went out to a playground in the afternoon, so it wasn’t prime conditions. In any case, we’re on the potty-training path. I cannot yet see the end of it. At least when it comes to #1, Lucia knows exactly what she’s doing and (when conditions are right) will say “Mama, I have to go to the potty” when she needs to go. Then she’ll sit down with a smile, and sit and sit, and occasionally she’ll say in a sing-songy voice, “I’m goooiiing…I’m goooiiing…” And then she goes, and she beams. She’s totally ready.   And while we’re sitting there, of course I have to bring Greta along, and while I sit in the bathroom doorway she procee...

We had a lovely visit this morning from some friends from Brooklyn, two little boys each three weeks older than each of my girls. Lucia was thrilled to have someone to chase all around the house, and Greta enjoyed crawling around and chewing companionably with another little baby. Later in the day, inspired by this other baby’s ability to pull up to standing, Greta decided she, too, would stand. She pulled herself up on the flowered ottoman, arranging her tiny feet underneath her and then pushing right up. Sometimes she starts out in a very wide V and then scoots her feet together inch by inch. Standing! Able to reach newly out-of-reach surfaces! Nothing is safe! I can sense her preparing to practice this newfound skill all night, robbing me of yet another night of sleep. Note to Greta: Don’t make me do sleep-training, my sweet little baby. Please don’t let it come to that. But when you wake up every hour from 10:30pm on and I’m still nursing you three times a night and you’re eig...

Greta was baptized today. This is the first time I’ve mentioned Greta’s baptism, I think, which may surprise you regular readers, who were with me when Andrew and I embarked on the process of getting Lucia baptized in California—a process that involved having to first get married in the church. This time around, it was easy. I started going to a parish in Park Slope when I got pregnant so I could become an official parishioner, and because of my forethought (applause, please), it was easy to schedule the baptism. But then Dad was able to get the priest from Geibel to agree to do it at his parish here, which was fantastic. I just had to get a letter from my Brooklyn parish giving me permission to have Greta baptized elsewhere, and we were in. So this morning we all set out for the church, Lucia in a new pretty dress (“I look so pretty!” she kept saying into the mirror) and Greta looking angelic in her white dress, sweater, and tights. She wore the same white dress Lucia did for her bapt...