Sunday, February 8, 2009

Dear Cadence, Month 19


Dear Cadence,

Cadence, this month - really just this past week- I feel like you turned the fact of your growing up into a giant club and began beating us over the head with it.  Not only have you added words like "read" and "octopus" into your repertoire, you also stopped taking milk at night in a single day, took an interest in your toys as things to care for [you were manipulating your beanie-baby tiger's paws to sign "more, please" and "Thank you," giving it milk, giving your puppy turns at nursing, and putting diapers on your big plastic ant with jingle-bell feet, and just this morning you were rocking and singing your new baby to sleep], you learned that taking the medicine in a single dose is better, even if it's unpleasant, than resisting it and making a 2 hour marathon of it, you were trying to help your young friend at peak-a-book to stand and walk, apologizing to the Rody when you knocked it over before picking it up and giving it big hugs and kisses...


Your bravery, though becoming more cautious as you become more aware of the dangers that life brings, still astounds me 

***headbursting break, as I am writing this, you are doing pushups!  push-ups! at 19 months!  and as if that weren't enough, you're demanding that Baba does them, too.  You've just begun a career as a personal trainer.  At 19 months!! *** ...***UPDATE: I went in to join the fun, and you made me lay down next to the two of you, and then you proceeded to lead us through a very complete workout including sit-ups, bridges, arm thrusts, leg lifts, and a series of somewhat less recognizable exercises involving a lot of rolling, giggling and flailing.  Best workout I've had in ages.  Go Cadie.***

This past week you've taken on more than your usual allotment of big adventures, and you're  blasting through each one like it was nothing.


We went to Mammoth Cave on a whim last week...being off season, and right after the worst winter storm kentucky has had in ages, if not ever, we were the only ones on the tour...a 2 hour private cave exploration, at 19 months.  amazing.  You were cautious, quiet and observant (as ever), but you seemed to soak up the experience...you had a lot of fun!  Because of closures, we also got to go on a tour that they don't usually give...what a cool thing for our adventurous little lady to go on!  


When we were about a mile into the cave, our guide offered to give us an unusual experience:  total darkness.  He turned out all the lights/lanterns and we all just sat for a moment, soaking in the extreme silence and total darkness of being more than a mile from the opening.  I was very impressed at your reaction...I was holding you, of course, and could feel you breathing, listening, looking...it was beautiful to experience your life in that moment.  


You did get worried after a short while, but it was long enough for us all to have a moment of simplicity.  And even then, you just burrowed into me, grabbed my arm, and gave a couple of quiet sounds indicating your fear...and the ranger turned the lights back on, and you were fine.  


You loved the waterfall over the entrance, though as soon as we passed behind it a big sheet of ice fell from the hill above, and I was worried that the suddenness of the motion and sound was going to make you fearful of the experience...but the smiles, shrieks, and happy affirmations you gave everyone back at the visitors' center when they asked you if you'd liked it confirmed for us all that your silence was not from fear, but from your fierce concentration.  And of course, as usual, everyone was so taken with you that you even got a vibrating stuffed ladybug book as an impromptu gift!


Speaking of the winter storm, and jumping around a bit, another exciting event that is certainly worth a mention is your very first sledding experience!  It has snowed enough to make the ground look white, but not cover the tips of the grass, once before, but being in the south, I was not hopeful that we would be able to expose you to my favorite winter sports, at least not this year.  But, unfortunately for about 90% of this state, there was a freak ice and snow storm a couple weeks back, which left most of kentucky blanketed in ice and snow, and largely without power (some folks are still waiting for their power to be restored).  


We were lucky, Bowling Green was not hit nearly as bad, we got the ice, we got the snow, but we never lost power...and, there was just exactly enough snow cover on the big hill behind the junior high school to let us break out the sleds we've held onto since we lived in more wintry regions.


I think it helped that the morning started out with a snowy episode of Kai-Lan, in which Tolee learns to sled...at first being afraid, but then progressing to the biggest hill.  I think that, along with Mama and Baba talking about it, and Kelly telling you how cool it was gonna be was all the instruction you needed...the moment we arrived at the top of the hill, without waiting for me to tell you what was up, you demanded to be put in the sled and wanted to be pushed down.  


I went down with you...I was somewhat terrified as we picked up speed, I could feel your little body tucked into my legs and chest and had a distinct feeling of being mostly helpless in the event of a crash - a new, totally humbling experience - it wasn't that I didn't anticipate that I would worry about you, but this is one of those you-won't-get-it-until-you-experience-it terrors, unique to being a parent and loving your child beyond any possible comprehension.


You, on the other hand, loved it so much you offed your nap for the day, instead demanding to go down with mama, now baba, now kelly, now this sled, now that sled, not the small hill!  the big one! BIG ONE!  Pepper gleefully played along, dashing after the sled and covering you in kisses at the bottom...And thankfully, the only crashes involved Kelly and Baba, and no one was seriously hurt...it was a grand day.  You played so hard you melted down, but some rest and some hot chocolate later, you were a grown up girl, with the sledding notch firmly in your belt.


Food is one thing I have thankfully never had to worry too much about with you...you are a total foodie, showing up at the WIC office munching on a spinach quiche (there was a day last week where you wouldn't eat anything but mini quiches...spinach, vegetable, and something with a complicated name that I have since forgotten, involving little chunks of what I think may have been prosciutto...) gobbling up such a wide range of foods it's hard to keep up, mexican, chinese, indian...whatever we put on your plate, you'll try.  You only like cherry tomatoes fresh from our garden, no other ones, you're not particularly interested in lettuce, but black olives will disappear before our eyes and kidney beans are always a hit.


 Chocolate is, of course, a favorite, but you tire of it before gorging yourself and mac & cheese is great but not for every meal.  Ice cream is exciting, but so is a good home cooked dish when you're hungry and Baba's been cooking.  I love that a favorite snack has become the organic popcorn with just enough oil for popping and a dash of salt...you drag the nearest grown up to the cupboard where it's kept, and declare "Pop!" with a grin, and I can't tell you how much this triumph of communication tickles me.  Let's hear it for a healthy interest in food, especially since you always stop eating when you're full, even if its a chocolate bar in your hand.  You're amazing.


***from the other room, I just heard Baba declare "Why do you have your foot in my pocket!?"  I can only guess what's going on...these days, you're always doing something new and interesting.  Is this really the same little creature we brought home from the hospital?  The one with the blanket and cap? You're our amazing girl, little bug.***


Speaking of new and exciting...Yesterday, after peak-a-book, your friend Breanna's mom Angie suggested that, after our usual trip to Panera for breakfast, we take all you kids to Hopscotch, and indoor playplace/gym for young children, not too far away.  Was that ever the suggestion of the century!

You, Breanna, Hannah, Ladrian, Kate (and a few others you'd met before but didn't know well) had the time of your lives in that place...monthly memberships and hours and hours of gleeful, out of this world, our children are not old enough for this but oh my goodness there they go excitement all around later, you had accomplished learning to climb jungle gym steps to go down slides, bounce in moonwalks, climb through an inflatable obstacle course...not to mention the big playhouse, padded gym shapes, costumes, magnet wall with letters and numbers, (you now recognize and can name the number 8.  I don't know if you know what it means, exactly, but you know what an 8 is...)train tables, musical instruments, tunnels to crawl through.

But the most important thing, I think, was that this was your first time in true social interaction with other kids your age.  I know that it is something that we have to let you do, and of course we can help you along the way, but setting you free into a zoo full of kids you don't know, kids who are not as nice as you, or who are less aware...


The social scene is never easy, and it is hardly ever completely fair, but I hope you can find a way to navigate these rough waters without closing off your heart more than is necessary.  I watched as other kids would push on the slide, and how you thought they were helping-so after someone pushed you, you went back to the top and tried pushing someone in front of you - though it was clear to everyone that it was in a helpful way, I had to tell you that you shouldn't push...you seemed confused, but took it in stride.  


And that girl you kept trying to play with kept pushing you down and crawling over you as if you weren't there...ooo, that riled the mamabear in me up...but you took the high road, and found something better to do...friends who didn't push.  That, my dear, is an excellent choice...As you grow...leave those that would hurt you, stomp all over you, use you...leave them all in the dust, let them fight it out themselves.  You're stronger and better than that, and don't need to waste your energy fighting their egos.  And just as a example, hopefully to show that I'm not the mom who spins her child's actions to reflect what I want to see, you also would get to the top of the slide, and then turn and make sure no one else had been waiting, and sometimes even if no one had, you would step aside and guide them to the top, letting them go first, before plopping yourself down and barreling down that slide with the biggest smile...


Anyway...
I am sick as I write this particular letter, and I feel disjointed in my writing...though I wish I could be more thoughtful, that each letter I wrote would be profound enough to do you justice, the truth is that they won't all be great.  And I have to be ok with that...because I need to set the example for you that just because each project I set my mind to isn't going to be the best one in the world,  it doesn't mean that I am a failure.  

You will make mistakes in your life, you will have periods of inaction, you will pursue things that won't pan out...but that, in NO way, means you are less of a person, less worthwhile, less lovable.  Yes, it can kick you in the butt and get you going again, it can be motivation to get off your ass, take a break, try something different-and that's great.  But you have to always give yourself credit for what you have done, even if it doesn't totally meet your own expectations.  We can often be our own harshest judges.  Learn to be a fair judge, my lovely one.


Love Always,
Mama