For Isabella's birthday, several months back, amongst other gifts, Sally gave Isabella a mirror. Though I haven't gotten around to hanging it, yet, she LOVES her mirror. To the extent that she doesn't necessarily want others - her sister - to use the mirror. The mirror thing goes quite well with her love of fashion.
She still continues to enjoy trying on clothes, wearing pretty dresses, constantly looking for new "things" (whether blankets or other objects) to feign as clothing.
This trip to the Children's Museum was different than the countless times we've been previously. Victoria didn't spend 99% of the time in my lap or in my arms; she took an active interest in the activities around her. Isabella? She was her usual self; very interested in stuff and constantly moving, not looking back to see whether Troy or I were following. Wait a minute, that latter bit, is that really usual? What happened to my first born, who doesn't dare go beyond where she can see me? What has happened to my baby? Wait, don't answer that.
Here we go. Raising what could be four rectangular walls of bubble. She's very excited and wants absolutely no help. Even though the road is hard for such a little one to pull.
A scientist? She certainly had fun splashing those bubbles on me. Since they were smoking, I was quite surprised at how cold those bubbles were.
Moving on to shopping. She appeared on be on a shopping spree and cooking spree.
Her mind was racing. So much to do in such precious little time.
Victoria is super eager to do whatever her sister is doing. Even if it means stealing, I mean sharing, or er borrowing, her sister's shopping cart.
We mustn't forget tap shoes, costumes, and dancing.
Are you catching all that she's wearing? Isabella. She's got at least three different things going on top of what she wore to the museum. She had worn a purple tutu from home. On top of her pants and tutu, she has a white skirt, a pink tutu, and a cape. I don't know what I'm going to do with my fashion princess, who's getting started at such an early age.
I won't tell any stories about how Troy left me with the younger one, who decided to make a watercolor masterpiece, along with all of our luggage (diaper bag, water bottle) and the mess we had left on another table (paper cut outs, pens, markers) to walk with the older child. But, Isabella painted a few pieces before running off.
The girls, especially Victoria, hate it every time when I say it's time to go. Even though they're starving and have finished all the snacks I packed. And it's lunch time. Can anyone really blame them? I still remember hating leaving parties our family went to, because I was having so much fun; who cares that it was well after midnight?
My younger child, Victoria, is my early riser. At the worst, she wakes at 5:30; she's eager, awake, and wants me to engage with her. This is where I am glad she still desires me for nourishment.
Too much information? Don't understand what I'm saying? Have some idea, but am not certain?
Don't ready any further, unless you really want to know. Full disclosure about to occur. Well, not FULL disclosure. Disclosure.
I'm talking about nursing. My nearly 2 1/2 year old is still nursing. I brought her into our bed between 6 and 6:30 am this morning. Half asleep, I changed her diaper and brought her into my bed, deeply desiring to sleep a bit more. With her came Aaron (her favorite stuffed dog) and a little toy tray of "Cheerios" (I am well aware those are probably donuts, but what she doesn't know can't hurt her). Once she was in our bed, somewhere along the way, the "Cheerios" got misplaced. Nowhere to be found on her person or in our bed.
Not long after I picked up Isabella from preschool and we arrived home, I found the tray of so-called Cheerios. It was sitting in my bra, between the girls. Wow. Laughed, I did. Are you laughing, too?
Halloween. I haven't any issues with my children trick-or-treating. No problems with the girls dressing in costumes; I love masquerades and costume events. However, call it a conservation, no-nonsense upbringing. Perhaps, in my husband and I coming together as parents, we're embarking on multi-cultural parenting (I'm taking a Social & Cultural Foundations of Counseling, and I'm learned loads, not only about various cultures, but how different cultures can influence the rearing of children in a home).
Letting my children indulge on candy, ice cream, cookies, or juice is difficult. I feel like I'm authorizing not merely unhealthy but destructive practices by EVER allowing them to have such stuff.
I am, however, learning to compromise.
A little bit.
The girls, since Halloween, can enjoy a piece of candy a day, during snack time, after their nap time.
And, neither child will let me forget such a promise that I've made. If they actually sleep during their nap time, they pounce on my promise to let them choose a piece of candy.
Choose they have. Lollipops. Chocolate. Fruity gummy candies we're so popular with my younger one, though she thought that's what she desired.
The Children's Place gave the girls tattoos I helped them apply. Isabella was certain she wanted hers on her arm.
Victoria said, pleaded, screamed for hers to be on her belly. She even pulled her shirt up to show me that that's where she wanted her tattoo.
Once I applied the tattoo, however, she was quite angry. She wanted me to take it off and put it on her arm. Too late, honey.