Table for 3

I am assuming everyone has kind of been in a situation that you know you should be grateful for and yet you still kind of take it for granted and just gobble it up a bit greedily, until, well it changes. That is right where we are.

I honestly knew how blessed I was that Miles made it home for dinner almost very single night at 6, sometimes even 5:30 and on a rare occasion when things were slower at work even 4:30. I could really depend on hearing his feet crunch the gravel outside of our door and know that all would be well, we had made it through the whole day, everyone alive, maybe a few coins needing to go into the theoretical therapy jar for the kids when they hit their 20's or 30's however for the most part a thoughtful, loving, needs being met kind of a day completed. I can't say I met Miles with the enthusiasm outwardly I felt inwardly each time he came home, sometimes I mentally checked out or talked about how if it had been a minute more it could of gotten ugly(yes I have walked to the end of the driveway and waited with the kids) however him coming home was a beautiful thing. A new energy, someone to talk to, play with, help blow on food at the dinner table and wipe down everything, again.
A God send of laughter would come from bath time and pajama time and new games would be invented, games I never would of invented because my brain had somehow just stopped working that way by 7, or maybe by 4:30. I'm being dead serious when I say how glad I am that I don't have an addictive chemistry in my brain because some days instead of music, a walk, or delving deeper into play with the kids, I may have started drinking. I think I get it a little, that need to check out, to get through, to depend on something, control something. Miles' being home for dinner was my control. I could mentally prepare myself, OK he will be home by 6 so just get to 6, play until 6, be filled with patience until 6, that was the magic number. I liked that dependability a lot, it made me a better mom in some ways, like an athlete who had trained for a certain event, I could make it to dinner time. I remember one night when Miles had to go to a work dinner and Eli got really really stuck in his high chair and I ended up calling a good friend of ours to help me, I didn't even hesitate to call, in my brain two adults made sense at dinner time. I did get Eli out by myself but with Leela screaming about it in the background and Eli crying at the top of his lungs I was not prepared, I had not trained for dinner alone, so inwardly, I panicked a little.
We are now almost 7 months in of Miles rarely being home by 6 or even by 7. I know he misses it, that time right between dinner and bed when the kids could soak him in, Love him completely and he them. Laughing and screaming not extinguished by a tired mom but kindled by dad. Eli barely got any of that time and although both kids if awake when he gets home are genuinely excited, there is a difference in energy. The magic moment between dinner and bedtime has passed when he comes home and he still needs to eat and shower(the difference between an office job and one fixing bikes ;) I know it's not forever and if our former rhythm changed so can this one, however I miss our evening routine. I am not so dependent now or controlling about making it to a certain time which in some ways has made me a nicer wife, just letting things be as they are. However I must say a dinner table with more residents 3 and under than over, is not quite the balance I once enjoyed.
There are lots of nights I am not really sure I ate dinner and Leela is running around wild while Eli works intently on a way out of his high chair, onto the table or into my chair to eat off of my plate.(note the pictures below)

 Post bath, I promise I went to help Leela for 10 seconds and this is how I found Eli. In his defnese I quickly grabbed the camera insted of the plate, not my first mistake of the day.

 As I went to rescue Eli and clean up the broken plate I turned around to find Leela cutting apples on the furniture. Yes I moved her, however I felt the need to document how much dinner and bath time has changed over here.

Miles does get dinner with the kids(without me) on Mondays one of his days off  of work and one of mine on, and we are gifted with some good breakfasts in there a couple of times per week, however I must say a table for 3 feels incomplete, distracted, disconnected, often disorganized for me at dinner time, maybe it's all the nakedness and imminent danger my young table guests get into when I am spent and dad is "almost" home.

Can God Say Damn It?

Many months ago I am changing Eli's diaper and Leela says to me, "Mom Why can't I say damn it?" I'm thinking Ah so this is where it begins. I for a moment look forward to the many conversations we will have about words, how to use them, what they mean, how hard they are to take back and how much I fear the written word for my children within the context of technology. Technology I have quite honestly not caught up with yet. Yes I am that mom who still has a pen and paper handy quite often. I know, sad.

.My flash forward was but a moment before I quickly replied, "well Damn It is a word mommy's and daddy's sometimes use to express frustration but there are much more thoughtful words you can use to express that emotion."......Leela thinks....."Well since God is the daddy of everyone can he say damn it?".....I think...."Yes God could say damn it, but I don't think he would choose to."  Never mind most of my wrestling's with God and Scripture surround the very concept of damnation in the Bible and yet I stand by my first thought, I really don't think God would choose to say it. :)

Now, Leela's daddy. He may have said it. Poor Miles, apparently this is how the damn it conversation started. Again while changing Eli's diaper(which Miles is very good at by the way) Eli apparently got his hands all in it and Miles uttered the word damn it and that was it. Each time Eli reached to get at his diaper and bum leela would say, "oh man daddy he damned it, Eli damned it again." Miles trying to be quick with a response albeit flustered fell into the oh so famous parenting trap of saying, "Leela don't say that word." I think he may of even followed up with the word, "because" when challenged further. Oh how the best of us fall. So i guess the truth is most of us don't often say damn it and God would not choose too unless of course, He was elbow deep in poop, then maybe.

"A Case of the Mondays"

Really the photos that I will attach here will say it all for how Leela was feeling this Monday, however I am wordy so I will explain.

For what seems to be over a year Leela has been asking me to take her to a dance class. I of course am certain she is too young for a formal dance class and have encouraged her to just dance in the living room(we did upgrade to pandora one),  told her she could use her dress up slippers as ballet slippers, and assured her you can still tap dance on the kitchen floor without tap shoes. Needless to say she still starts a lot of conversations with, "When I'm in dance Class," or "When I am so and so's age and in dance class," and pretty much wears the one hand me down leotard we have with pretend ballet slippers everyday for part of the day, and on our trip to Chicago informed me I should pack more tights. Yes she wore tights one day in 100 degree weather. After all that I couldn't help but think maybe I am being a little uptight about this dance class thing.

So when the City of Costa Mesa's Parks and Recreation catalog arrived in March and I happened upon Fairy Tale Princess camp which is basically intro to tap/jazz, songs, stories, and crafts for three year olds with an affinity for dressing like princesses' and talking about their future enrollment in dance classes I thought, we are in. I was surely the first person to sign up and get the deal on early bird registration, and kept it a secret everyday for the last 4 months knowing full well something may derail this dream dance camp.

I honestly only told Leela about dance class Saturday evening to encourage her to get some sleep and be excited for the plane ride back to California(there was a lot of talk from her about moving to Chicago) and so that she would have a little heads up of what was to come Monday morning.

We did almost miss our plane(that might be an entire other post) and part of me thinks what kept her little 3 year old legs running through midway to catch it, was the hope of finally setting foot in a dance class with real ballet slippers and tap shoes. I didn't tell her they have dance classes in Chicago too.

Fast forward to Monday morning and there we were Leela actually sitting fairly still for me to brush the tangles out of her hair and pull it back, fully dressed in her black tights and leotard, which are always a highlight when out in public. I mean she was ready. No arguments about putting on shoes or getting in the car or why we can't take a bath right this minute, or pour food coloring on everything or even why it isn't really all that possible to paint really quickly before we get in the car.

The good news seemed to just keep rolling in. We went through the mail and in it was her info packet for preschool the highly anticipated picture of her teacher waiting inside.

Certain this morning couldn't get any better she encouraged me to tear it open since we had some extra time and this might be where things started to take a turn. We pull out the picture and Leela just looks at me like, what? Your sending me to school with him? Yes that's right Leela's first preschool teacher, is a great teacher, who also happens to be a young man. A young man with a shaved head and two largish round earrings one for each ear. He basically turns everything little LP knows to be true about teachers, gender roles, and life as a 3 year old right on its head.

Hanging his picture on the door seemed to help and telling her he will visit us at home first because she is new to the school helped a little more, then finding out her first week we can all go as a family for an hour to check it all out helped a little more, and knowing that at least she was going to have a dance teacher helped a lot more. So there we were a little shaken up on our way to dance class, Leela asking me if I would wait outside and read a book just in case she needed me on her first day of dance camp(or in case the dance teacher was a man too), of course I will, I assured her.

As we arrive it takes a minute to find the right building the right door and then somehow as I go to open the door I look through it and all looks dark, no one around, and sure enough the door is locked. Yep locked out of Fairytale Princess Camp. I of course thinking, I have somehow gone to the wrong place call the city to find out the right place, and as it turns out we were not only the first people to sign up for this particular dance session, we were the only people and someone out there in dance camp world forgot to call us. All that needs to be said at this point is note the difference in facial expressions from Leela pre dance lockout and post dance lockout........not her best Monday.

The good news is Leela got to take a dance class for real Tuesday afternoon for free and wore real tap and ballet shoes and the city will refund us so we can take 3 more dance classes the next 3 weeks. She really loved the class as much as I thought she might, and followed instructions for an entire hour and I have to admit her little feet in first position and tapping around the house trying to shuffle are adorable.

All we have left to do is meet Kunaal, Leela's preschool teacher who smiles down at us from the door where she wanted to hang his picture and be glad he will probably not lock us out on the first day. :)