Celebrating one of those quintessential holiday feelings…

Terror.

(She did manage to choke out exactly what she wanted from the Jolly Old Soul, though).

Best to you and yours,

xo

You know when you make one of those incredible parenting decisions – they type that makes you feel absolutely brilliant? This past fall, I made one of those choices, and bought this.

A pink butterfly vest. Nothing exceptional – just an Old Navy sale purchase. But something I was certain Peanut would like (she’s interested in all types of small animal). And I was right; the vest was happily received and she stayed warm and cozy throughout the fall.

Like I said, brilliant.

Of course, the thing about parenthood is how those moments of intense clarity can come back to bite you. In the biggest way. That butterfly vest is currently the only piece of outerwear she will even consider. Which wouldn’t be a problem if the temperatures were approximately 15 degrees warmer. It’s led to some intensely frustrating moments (mostly involving the heated rejection of a fancy new GAP Parka). I actually sent her to pre-school in the vest (with a sweater) due to lack of better options. Upon dismissal, I saw that her teachers had dressed her in an additional sweater (borrowed from another child), as they didn’t think the vest was “quite enough”.

Fail.

The vest is about to take a one way trip to the Goodwill bag. And I’m reminding myself that there’s no such thing as apathy when it comes to toddlers and clothing.

What experiences have you had with picky little dressers?

December ushers in my absolute favorite time of year. And lately, it’s become apparent that Peanut is equally enthusiastic for Christmas. So, this weekend we decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and do something we hadn’t in years – cut down our own tree (I say that loosely. A saw-wielding teenager actually did the dirty work).

It was an utterly perfect day. And although a mere 50 miles outside of New York City, we felt eons away. I hope this will become somewhat of a yearly tradition, a memory Peanut can hold on to as she grows.

It’s the stuff that holidays are made of.

I’ve written about Peanut’s love for all things that move, in the past. And although she’s become decidedly more girly over the last several months (adopting accessories such as necklaces, and insisting on having her “nails done”), she’s still heavily into cars, trains, and “firefighter trucks”. It’s an interesting mix, actually. I’ve begun wondering why there aren’t more books about female trucks painted glittery pink. Or, perhaps, glittery green (her favorite color).

This past week we visited my husband’s parents in Houston. Where everything is larger than life, including portions at restaurants, homes, and (of course) cars. Peanut had a fabulous time, and was extremely impressed with her Yeh-Yeh’s large SUV – possibly the hugest car she’d ever seen. Over the course of our time in Texas its size became an ongoing topic of conversation. Every day we’d discuss how big it is (particularly in comparison to Mama’s tiny Volkswagen). We’d talk about the color (black), and how much she loved it. I think we could have ate, slept, and lived in the spacious trunk, and Peanut would have been more than satisfied.

The final day of our trip, I decided to teach her the name of said truck. With enunciation, I urged her to copy my lead. Thrilled, she eagerly tested her new word.

“Mer-ce-des”.

Just a word – but possibly the most impeccably pronounced one I’ve ever heard Peanut utter.

Fitting, don’t you think?

This past month has been tough. For many reasons, too numerous to list on this blog. Mostly involving work, questions about Peanut’s speech (and whether she would benefit from some therapy – she just hasn’t closed the gap as quickly as we would have liked), and that ubiquitous search for balance. I’ve felt like my head has been spinning.

Good family and friends have been not only helpful, but essential. I’m thankful to have people And at times like these, I feel like it’s possible to find balance in the most monotonous things. I hate yard work, but overnight it seemed like 10,000 leaves fell on my postage stamp of a lawn. I needed to do something about it, and enlisted Peanut. Over the course of a unseasonably warm November morning, a Friday, we collected and stuffed 5 full bags.

A task with a beginning, and an end. Unlike most everything in life.

And she loved it.

Parenthood changes you inexplicably. Particularly in terms of those things you treasure and want to keep safe. Of course, I’m talking about the actual person you’ve produced. That’s implied. But there’s also so much more. Take, for example, Peanut’s little pink bunny. She calls it “Baby Ba” – a name that developed organically over time. I’m quite certain Peanut can say “bun-ny” at this point, but “Ba” implies a certain level of comfort – at least for us.

Baby Ba has always come with us, most of the time. I know you’re probably going to say that we should have never left the house with “her”, under any circumstances. But we needed “her” – on so many occasions. When Peanut started pre-school, Baby Ba expedited the adjustment. Baby Ba didn’t go into school, but travelled practically to the front door, then took a “nap” in the stroller (babies don’t go to school; only big girls. Obviously). Falls, cuts, and scrapes? Baby Ba comforted. She’s slightly more important than my husband; slightly less than my iphone (half joking).

Then, today, we forgot Baby Ba. At a restaurant. In the shuffle of moving a child and everything else from a table to the stroller. We were able to retrieve her, but not without some trauma. “I lost Baby Ba,” peanut wept. “I miss Baby Ba.” A quick trip to retrieve the missing bunny solved all.

But my lesson was learned.

Without Baby Ba our home would drop by at least ten decibels of peacefulness. So for now, she occupies a prime piece of real estate – Peanut’s arms.

On the couch.

This morning dawned absolutely perfect for the New York City Marathon. Clear and cool – yet still. I’ve been a spectator at the Marathon before, and found it incredibly moving. Today’s was particularly poignant for me, as my sister was running her first. Exactly one year ago we watched it together, and she said she planned on participating in 2011. At that point she hadn’t even run a half. But determination can provide a powerful motive. And combined with hard work, it seems that almost anything is possible.

We arrived at Central Park early this morning, and were able to see everyone from the wheelchair athletes, to the front runners, to the couple who exchanged vows on the course. I was impressed with how entertained Peanut appeared to be. (I fully expected a torturous five hours trailing her through terrifying crowds. Pleasantly, it was not so.) Jessica crossed the finish line shortly after 2pm. She did incredibly well, completing in just under four hours. Exceptional, in our opinion. And we’re all so proud. She also raised over $3000 for Hole in the Wall Camps, making a difference in the lives of seriously ill children.

Of course I began getting the same itch I did last year – the thought that perhaps I could do this, at some point. But marathon running can be a metaphor for so many other things – blogging, work, life. Persistence, tenacity, attitude. Hope. It’s the reason for late nights, diligence. The reason for pressing on.

From a physical standpoint, I may have it in me. We’ll see.

In the meantime, congratulations Jessica. We love you.

For all of you curious, the moo cow did make an appearance yesterday.

(And yes, I am officially obsessed with my new iphone and Instagram)