Recently my sweet little girl has had so much to talk about and often requires undivided attention with a few exceptions: when playing in the kitchen sink (the real one), watching Little Einstein's, or with friends. She lets me do domestic duties like cooking and cleaning--she actually seems quite fond of this. I am hoping she will grow up to be much like her tidy aunties on my husband's side, because she doesn't have a prayer from my blood-line.
Lately my daughter has been using some unique methods to get my attention. Just two days ago I was immersed in hand-stitching the collar of a little bear Cinderella dress (I know, a CINDERELLA costume for a BEAR! I will "Blag" all about it later--blog bragging) when suddenly--STAB. Ally took the pin I set aside to jab me in the knee and exclaimed, "POKE!" Poke indeed. And yesterday, with my back turned for a moment at Joann Fabrics, she picked up an unusually long, synthetic orchid and used it to fish down little pots. The problem: these pots were made of glass. "PLUNK, CRASH, SPLAT," I heard in rhythm twice, turned around and saw the blue and yellow remnants of the clearance items on the floor. "Ally, no-no," She looked at me, quite shocked at what she had accomplished (she was standing in the cart away from the shelf, so luckily the glass didn't hurt her) paused a moment, then reached the orchid up once again to smash a third glass pot--as if to say, "Take THAT."
She clearly is not as thrilled with my doll-clothing project as I am, and would much rather have me play with her NOW than spend time making clothes for little figures that she doesn't even own yet. So today I made a special effort to REALLY give her my undivided attention. This morning I completed the ENTIRE 20 minutes of Jillian Michaels 30-day shred for the FIRST time ever (before she woke); later we ate breakfast and played in the yard. In the afternoon, after my daughter didn't nap for a half-an-hour, I burst in her room and said, "Let's go to the mountain!" She was startled by my abrupt declaration and sheepishly holding her soggy diaper and pointing to a wet spot on the floor. "It's yellow pee-pee in there, you need to clean it up." That's my girl. So, I cleaned up the mess, got her dressed, and off we went. On Saturday, I discovered a nice mountain trail about .5 miles from our house. It is gravel and dirt, easy on the joints, and offers the quiet that can only be found in untouched nature.
As we winded around the dirty hills, she was absolutely silent. I could tell that she was enjoying the new scenery but mostly, she was simply glad to know that I was available. I pointed out butterflies, flowers, lizards, grass, birds--I even tried to catch a butterfly for her entertainment--perfect exercise and perfect fun. There are moments when everything stops and I am reminded that my first job is Mother. The little figurines will always be the same size, but my little girl is changing every day. The clothes will have to wait because I have more important things to do, like catch little creatures in the mountain with my daughter.