being a mom

Well, it's two weeks 'til Christmas again and the snow is flying here. I figure at this point in the year if it's going to be freezing cold it might as well be snowy, so I'm waiting happily for some accumulation. I have absolutely no gifts for anyone (**am seriously considering wrapping Helena's old toys up for Lilly--who would know?!) and just can't even bring myself to the mall to do any of the shopping. What about homemade play-dough for everyone?

Right now both kids are "in bed," "taking naps," although I use quotations because I can hear little pitter-pats of Helena's feet running out of bed, then back to bed. Who knows what she is doing--all I know for sure by now is that I had better go check in a few minutes because with a three-year-old there's only one certainty: never be sure of anything. Like, "I'm sure she won't play with the toilet paper, she's never done it before...." Sometimes she'll go potty "all by myself" (actually, I didn't like her yelling "GET OUT," so now all we get is a yell downstairs "I'M GOING POTTY, AND I NEED SOME PRIVACY."). When she's done, she'll be up there a few more minutes, and when I yell up "Helena, what are you doing?" She might come down wearing any number of amazing outfits--tights, perhaps, with a turtleneck and underwear over the tights, or perhaps sweatpants with no shirt at all ("I was too hot in my shirt." It's 26 degrees out). Sometimes she'll dodge me, so when I go upstairs she's on my bed, holding up my journal that she's been coloring in, or something like that. I tell ya, they sure keep you on your toes.

She's really excited about Christmas, and I notice a general sensitivity about being 3 and a half now that she didn't display before. Sometimes she asks if Santa won't get cold in his sleigh? or, What we should leave for the reindeer? The other day I hurt my eye, and she said "What's wrong, mom?" Nothing, I said, I just got a boo-boo in my eye. "Oh, I wish I was bigger," she said. Why, honey? "So I could hold you."

Being a mom has so many ups and downs it's like a prison camp--sometimes it seems like you're just hoping the captors show you a little sympathy, notice you've been doing a good job breaking rocks. Oh, of course, it's not always like that: there are definitely times it's all rewarding and good-feely. But there are also the moments you just are droning on and on thinking, I hope someone somewhere is noticing the cooking, the cleaning, the endless patience displayed when saying the same thing a million times, all in different ways. And then your little girl says, she wants to hold you to make you feel better and this world of love (and inexplicable guilt?) reigns down. And you think, oh geez, okay, hand me another rock. I can still do this.

And the gift goes on!