She truly broke my heart today.

Even on the days when she is hollering at me for no explicable reason. When she fights me in the morning as I am putting on her clothes. When I make her go to daycare, when she doesn't want to. I love this little girl. I learned the other day that there is a phrase I say when I drive that I need to watch myself on. I hear her tell me nearly every day that she likes my hair, that she thinks it is very pretty. To which I am always sure to remind her that I admire her hair as much as she does mine. (If she reads this later in life - I want her to know that is not an exaggeration. I nearly fried my hair off with perms trying to make it be as curly as hers is every day. She can confirm with Ninny.) I love this little girl more than words can say.

We go to Smith's grocery store for three reasons. There is not a crazy - holidazed - walmart attached to it, they have decent prices, and they have these awesome little carts. Of course I was dancing to the 80's music they were playing over the PA (another thing I consider a perk) so naturally - she did the same.

Then when we got home, she kept on dancing - even when there was no music.

She is silly and I love her imagination.

For instance, this is the scene where the mermaid barbie and baby duckie meet for the first time and duckie admires barbie's hair.

These nifty implements were among the plas-tastic stocking stuffery toys you can pick up for $1 or under. She got a package of rings, bracelets, and the tiara that came with matching earings. But this little trio cost me more than the $3 pricetag. I have known for a while that she admires Dora's hair. And that she admires one of her friends at school for her hair (which is cut and combed just like Dora's) and that she has been admiring my hair. When we put these things on her she decided she needed her dress. So we put that on her.

She went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She stared at herself for some time. When I went in to the bathroom she turned around and looked at me with a look in her eye that I had never seen before. She looked at me and said, "now I am a real princess."

I have been avoiding everything Disney princess for exactly this reason. You can't tell your family that. Or, rather, you can tell your family but they send you something with princesses on it anyway. I spend a lot of time telling her she is beautiful. I spend a lot of time making sure she gets to wear the dresses (that I never had an interest in when I was little) and spend the time having tea and playing with her with her toys.

It broke my heart that it took these small shiny pink plastic bobbles to make her feel important, to make her feel pretty, to make her feel loved. So I told her, "this is probably the most important thing I will ever tell you, and I want you to remember it for a very long time. These things do not make you pretty, you make them pretty and you have always been a real princess."

She stroked my cheek. And she just looked at me. I kissed her cheek. She said, "I love you, Queen." I told her, "I love you, Princess."

How do I fight against all things commercial. How do I give my daughter the confidence to know that even with boogers coming out of her nose and dirt from head to toe that she is every bit as beautiful as the little girl she saw in the mirror tonight. That real beauty comes from inside. Just like dancing in the store - she's going to do what I do. So now I am going to do better about showing my inner beauty all the time.

Found Objects

"I am going to need this for my playdough."

It isn't the first time a heart has been carelessly thrown in the gutter. It won't be the last. But we rescued it and Xyla plans to make good use of it.

I don't know quite how to describe today. It was a bit of chaos. Slimming down some stock footage. Duplicating, searching video. Preparing for the big move. (Not me, in case you wondered. I signed the longest lease I have ever heard of.) I impressed two people with my ability to hoist a large box of beta tapes onto my shoulder, haul them to the dumpster, open the dumpster and drop in the tapes without losing the box. Of course if they'd been opening doors and the dumpster . . .

I had to wade through the thick river of emotional footage of people's homecoming surprises and pick out shots that match a specific script. That is the hardest thing for me to do. It exhausts me when other people are terribly emotional. I know how horrible that sounds but when you train yourself to wait for the tear . . . and pack up the gear and head back to air it at 5, 6, 10 and 11. You have to be able to shut it all off. You have to know what makes other people feel those feelings, without feeling them yourself.

There are thousands of stories like that one and if you take the time to get all emotional about it yourself, well, you are going to miss your deadlines and then you won't have a job. I guess that was what made me good at the job - not being emotional enough but knowing what makes others emotional. I say exhausting because it's not like you can get the beginning of the hug and cut then run. You have to stay for the whole hug . . . or kiss. . . or exaggerated for the camera awe-strike. Some people never want to let go. But you have to stay for the follow through. If your anchors don't get choked up a little - you didn't get it all. Enough about that.

Why am I telling you this?

Recently I was awarded an "employee of the month" type award. I really appreciated it. It's a bit of a popularity contest only quality of your work oriented. It comes with a parking spot right next to the door. It is really nice to get to park in the reserved spot because it means that when you come back from lunch - no one has snaked your space. (The people who work across the street are horrible about doing this.) I park in backwards because you can't see around the evening traffic to get out the way I get out unless you are parked backwards. I got in, and pulled forward just a little to indicate to still-standing cross traffic that I would like to cross the line and go the other way. The woman immediately noticed me and made a space in the lane for me to cross. This is two way traffic. I looked right, I looked left, I looked right again and started to cross the lane and got 3/4 of the way into the lane I was going to travel in and someone in a white Toyota was driving the wrong way in the lane. It happens sometimes when people decided that since they aren't exiting the gate that they don't have to wait in line to make the left turn just before the intersection.

Roads wet and black ice in places it is amazing that the person was able to stop just before they hit me, t-bone . . . driver's side. They turned their wheel right (keeping in mind that there is a long line of cars on that side) and narrowly missed three cars on that side by "correcting". I pushed the gas pedal and got the back end of my car out of the way in time for them to slide by the rear of my vehicle.

Then whoever it was kept driving in the wrong lane.

All I kept thinking was, "I have a three-year-old waiting for me. What would her life be like if she never saw me again because this guy had to save five minutes in line. Would he think it was worth the risk then?"

I so desperately wanted to go around the corner and track him down (there are only two places he can go) and ask him that. But remembering the guy who wanted me to get out of my car and fight him because I waved him around me in the drive through lane while I took a few seconds to situate my kids cup in her cup holder before we drove away from the store, I decided there was potential that not seeing my kid again is totally still a possibility at that point, if I make a poor decision. So I drove on to pick up my daughter as always. No way I was going to miss that today. Not when the choice is mine.

As I put Xyla in the car she looked at me and said, "are you happy mommy?" I said, "Yes, Xyla - I am very happy." We got in the car and headed home. She rescues the heart from the gutter. As we are walking inside she says she wants some hot chocolate - with three (holding up four fingers) marshmallows.

Are you happy?

I was holding desperately on to my daughter with one arm that I felt giving way, trying to keep her from reaching over the side of the cart toward the candy aisle at the grocery store. She sits in the big basket because she is getting too big to fit in the seat in the cart.

She usually helps me unload the cart on the belt but lately she has been getting distracted by the hoards of chocolate that sit just within reach if . . . only. . . she could . . . reach . . . one more . . . and that’s when I try to help her realize that the cart is about to roll out from under her and land her square on her head on the floor. I am going to admit that sometimes this comes in the form of yelling. I am never proud of having to scold her in public but sometimes the message has to be fast and forceful and I am sure that to other people it sounds horrible.

She is an adventurous child. She has been trying to free climb the bookcases since before she could walk. Even after she slipped into a pond, she still stood with her toes hanging off the edge of the bank of the lake later the same day. She has no sense of danger most of the time. The only thing that seems to scare her is the Grinch but even then, it is her favorite movie.
I know she is at the age where defiance is normal.

I thought the level of defiance she exhibited at two was relatively mild. She has done really well, until recently. When we moved here I placed her in this daycare. I have been in awe of the way being around other kids her age has helped her with her speaking abilities. Unfortunately, she has picked up some other bad habits. The whining. And this is why the A&SQ frustrates me so much. When she would have difficulty accomplishing some task, it used to be really easy to get her to stop, assess the situation, work out a solution then try it. It used to be really easy. Now she has learned that when you have trouble with something, you are supposed to whine until it magically gets done.

I know why it is so tempting to just reach over and do it yourself. The whining is worse than fingernails on a chalk board. Especially when you can’t do or say anything to get it to stop. I had been lucky, until now, that my kid was responding well to the way we accomplished things. I don’t know how to change it back because I don’t know if she has just hit “that stage” or if she has learned the behavior from the other kids at school. They have decidedly more hours of influence on her than I do in the day.

She is asserting that she wants to do things herself. So I let her. When she wants me to help her with the same things, I help her. She is at the magical age where she doesn’t know if she wants to be a baby or a “little girl” (she insists that she is not a “big girl” because I am a “big girl”.) Most of the things she does that are dangerous or unacceptable (behavior-wise) she is looking to entertain me with them. I am usually NOT amused. But I can tell when she is proud of what she is doing because she will ask, “Are you happy, momma?”

This slays me. Overall, yes, I am happy. I am happy that so many things in my life have improved. I am happy that I am able to provide for my child. I am happy that she is able to communicate with me. I am not happy that she picks up a bag of snack popcorn and dumps the entire contents onto the back seat of my car. I am not happy that she takes the entire contents of her toy box into the living room and dumps them all over, then refuses to help pick them up when she is finished playing with them. (She picks up at school all the time, just refuses to at home.)

I am not happy that I can’t fix one problem without there being three or four more problems waiting for me when I finish that because there is no one to absorb her energy or distract her or . . . or . . . any number of things that would be more positive for her life than me getting frustrated because I don’t get to hold or play with my child because I have to clean up after her constantly at an age where she is capable of helping or at least not causing more chaos. I can’t spend the time I need to, breaking these habits by modeling better behavior because I want to pull out my hair and scream – and yes, whine. I finally understand the Calgon commercials.

That is the lot I have in life though. Balancing those things. Trying to control my frustration so that I don’t damage my child emotionally for life. I don’t get to complain because it is a situation I chose for myself. The harder part that I am having trouble with is trying to explain to the child whose first word was “happy” that there are other emotions, it is ok to feel them and there is a right and wrong way to deal with them. That every person deals with their emotions differently and that the answer is not always to try to make the other person be – happy.

It will be tough to explain also, that what makes her happy is not always what makes other people happy.I think I am doing ok with teaching her this because every once in a while she will cry, for seemingly no reason. I tell her there is nothing to cry over, that whatever just happened is not an event that requires tears. She flatly tells me, “I need to cry”. I forget that. I forget that she is not numb to that emotion like I am, that sometimes other people do need to cry.

I am known for my stoicism. I was asked by my aunt to deliver my grandfather’s eulogy because I am more stoic than she is, and she is also known for being particularly callous. I am proud though that I am teaching my child that she needs to speak up sometimes when she “needs to cry” and ask for what she needs to make herself feel better. Most people get bogged down in life because they don’t know how. That is a skill most people never develop but one I hope she never loses.

Can't take your eyes off 'em. Not even for a second.

I really don't know how to gauge this but I am sure every mom thinks it at one time or another. Is my kid really more energetic than other kids? On one hand I really hope so because it means there isn't something horribly wrong with me. By the way, if I didn't get something done and I promised to, it is likely late because I ran out of run after because of my kid. I would venture to say, however, that my kid could play your kid under the table. In drinking terms that is, my kid could wear your kid out and still have energy for days.

Here, as the big kids were working hard editing the workout video, Xyla managed to find a pile of wood that she relocated from outside and began stacking end to end up the wall. It was tall enough that it was a little precarious. Then Fuzzy suggested it was times like that he really wanted to make the "sculpture" permanent by fastening it to the wall. Then she would always be able to say "see that, I made that." I think we can just take pictures and save the wall.

One second you think they are ready to go somewhere. Then you run into your bedroom to "grab something" you forgot and you come back out and they are sans pants and practically in a whole new outfit ready to fish.

By the time you get them re-dressed for whatever it was you were trying desperately not to be late for, they are insisting that you leave their implements in a very exacting location. If it isn't in it's specific spot they will throw a fit until it is, which means you are going no where fast. Some fights are worth fighting and some are not. Especially if you don't have to look at it until much later in the day.

You can't leave them alone with the computer because if you do there is usually a high magnification that you can't figure out how to fix but you know it is fixable because you've done it at least five other times. Or there are 100 pictures of various funny faces they made in the photobooth function of your Mac. Sometimes you come around the corner and realize they have managed to click their way to things they should never, ever see. Like that there is a Hershey, Penn. And they make Hershey's chocolate there. CHOCOLATE! MOMMY, I WANT CHOCOLATE! (yes, she takes after me.)

Then there are the days when you come out of your room from folding and putting away laundry to find the entire contents of your purse strung across the living room along with the entire contents of her toy box, her closet and she has got a good start on the pantry shelves. Those are the days you want to just go back in your room and close the door and pretend for a few minutes that it never happened. But you realize that your kid is still out there and there is flour in your pantry.

At some point it is ill advised to leave them alone at night too. The evening of this picture I laid next to her as she fell asleep in her room. I got up and went to my room. The next morning the bathroom light was on, there was pee in the potty and this is definitely not where I left her.

I asked one of her teachers if it seemed like she had more energy than the other kids. She said yes and that it spiked in the afternoon right after their naps. Frosty even was a little amazed that she was blasting both engines last week from 8am to 5pm before she finally started getting cranky. (No nap!)


Now everyone knows why I am always exhausted. I talked to one of her other teachers and asked her the same question about Xyla's energy level. She said she doesn't really worry about the energetic kids who will listen and participate when she tells them it is time to settle down and read a story or some other quiet activity. Even though Xyla seems overly energetic to me, that I don't need to worry about ADD.


 I wasn't even worried about that. I just wanted to get some idea of how much activity I needed to get her to burn up some energy so she will go to sleep at night. We got a baseball and mit. Tonight it is supposed to snow. Come on winter I am waiting on you to help me wear this kid out. Anytime you want to find out whose kid has more energy you can bring your kid over and we'll let them play it out. Which ever kid drops first . . . loses. It will be fun for everyone.

A Word about the A&SQ

I knew it was a mistake to say what I said when Xyla first started the daycare center here in UT. I told them that I was concerned about her speech development because I wasn't sure if she could hear properly. And it has been a snowball since then. They give you what is called the Ages and Stages Questionnaire and tell you just to fill it out and bring it back. What ever. The problem is they don't really give you instructions about how to accomplish the thing. What is considered and "almost" what is considered a "yes" what is considered "not yet". Turns out what I was marking not yet should probably have been an almost and some of the things I knew she could do but she wasn't doing them when we were filling out the paper out of obstinance. There are really only about two skills differences between the the 36 month and 42 month questionnaire and 90% of it she could do from 18 months on. Now that I know how to count things and how it gets scored I think this report will be more accurate to her ability. It is the "report card" that I have trouble with. It says she needs to work on "zipping and snapping her pants or jacket". She knows how. She just doesn't like to. Every morning she demands that if she is going to wear a coat that it not be zipped or buttoned. I have seen her zip it up when she gets cold enough and sometimes she asks for my help getting it started but then insists on doing the rest herself. Now is that a sometimes, not yet or yes? I count it as a yes.

The report says that she needs to work on jumping six inches forward using both feet at the same time. I got a note on my door a few days ago threatening to fine me $50 per incident if I didn't get her to stop jumping causing noise ordinance problems for my downstairs neighbor. The kid jumps all the stinking time. We hop from one place to another outside all the time. So I know that is bogus.

It says she needs to work on her problem solving skills such as when a chair is stuck under the table that she needs to move the chair or choose another instead of screaming about it. She has always been pretty good at this but the way I taught her to do it is clearly not what they are teaching. When she gets frustrated with something at home I calm her down and ask her how she could fix it. Usually she can figure it out on her own and facilitate. I suppose I should share that with them but the "cry until it happens" attitude she has now she picked up from the other kids there. She didn't do that at her previous daycares and she only started throwing tantrums at home in the last 3 months.

It says she needs to work on full sentence structure. As an example they write, "I want to play with the ponies, please." She is very responsive to the way people around her talk. The fact that her speech has developed the way it has in three months tells me her delays had to do with the other kids at her previous daycare were all younger than her and didn't speak well. That it really had little to do with her hearing. She was using full sentences when my mom brought her home a few weeks ago and most of the time she uses them at home. Sometimes she gets lazy with it and drops some pronouns but she is using contractions like a champ. For instance she just said, "there's a sticker on your foot." See, complete sentences.

It also says she should work on letter like marks with her crayons or pencils. On this point I am curious. The A&SQ asks you to have the child draw a straight horizontal line, a straight vertical line, a circle and a 't' shape. I thought about it and those are all the shapes that represent letter like marks. Nearly every letter of the alphabet has one or a combination of those shapes. She makes them just fine, the only letters she is interested in drawing are the ones associated with her name. Xyla. Except for the y she does pretty well. She is only three though and she not only knows the difference between a pentagon, hexagon and octagon but she can draw each. She also knows there is a difference between and octopus and a squid - although she does perceive that line to be in the ability to ride a bicycle. The comment that was made today was the concern that she was still holding her crayons with her fist instead of the way you would when writing with a pencil. She has always held writing utensils the way they are supposed to be held since she first picked one up. It wasn't until we got here that she started drawing fist-like. I think that is a habit she has learned by watching the other kids because if you give her a pen she'll hold it right - maybe it's the medium. I don't know.

On the positive reports side it says she can put her jacket on, climbs stairs up and down using alternating feet. Yep, yep, yep. She can string beads, make circles with crayons, do puzzles (20 piece ones and all the A&SQ requires is that the puzzle be 6 pieces), can name body parts when they are pointed to, and follow simple directions. My response to that - yeah, since she was a year and a half.

Now the questionnaire itself. There is one question on there that says when you ask the child their name do they answer with their first and last names? Um, no! Xyla has a hyphenated last name and I really haven't decided how I am going to deal with that just yet so I don't really use her last name or mine in conversation. Everyone we know only calls us by our first name so I wouldn't expect her to use it when referring to herself. How do you score that?

This is the perpetual question though. Do I voice my concerns and risk having my child treated like she is far behind which causes more problems than it solves. They start working to help her do remedial milestones when she should be learning things that challenge her. Or do I keep my mouth shut and hope that if she needs help she will get it. I think I will have to talk with her teacher and let her know that the only part of Xyla's development that I was concerned about was her speech development and that she probably should be evaluated by a professional other than myself (I have no training in childhood development) or her who typically deals with kids on an average level. No, she is not doing what the other kids are doing, because she is past that. I keep trying to look up the A&SQ's for the next several stages but the questionnaires are all very similar, only adding one or two new skills like "can your child server herself" yes, since she started helping me cook in the kitchen when she was just over 2.

I am starting to dislike charts and questionnaires and . . . oh, heaven help us when we get to standardized tests. Even though I don't know a lot about childhood development, I suppose I should trust my instincts a bit more. She is getting more education in her first three years than some people get their whole lives.

I Know Why She Loves Him.

When she wakes him up in the morning, he looks at her like she is the only girl in the world. She knows he is admiring the sassy sway of her red hair as she heads downstairs.

He buys the best foods and feeds her lovingly every morning before he heads off to work. He doesn't judge her for lying around the house all day. He looks genuinely happy to see here every day when he comes home. He runs his fingers gently through her hair and sometimes gives her a sweet, soft kiss right in the spot she appreciates.

He sometimes doesn't realize that she wants his attention when guests are visiting for the evening but all she has to do is brush his hand gently with her body and he reaches out to her and reassures her that he hasn't forgotten about her.

When she needs time to herself he opens the door and lets her take all the time she needs. He is very patient and understanding with her. They have been together for many years. This relationship just works for both of them.

But I could be wrong . . . .

It could be that she thinks he smells like bacon. Finally got Jasmine on camera, but only because she was a bit distracted.

Saturday Download

Ahhhhh! There it is. Winter. Real, fluffy, cold . . . winter. Xyla saw this and said, "SNOW! I LOVE SNOW!" I said, "I know you do." She said, " We go for a walk, NOW!" I told her we should probably get dressed first.

Once I got her to stop long enough to put clothes on her we headed out the door. She went down the stairs and didn't walk on any of the sidewalks that she didn't have to. She was in the snow all the way and more of a run than a walk.

Then she saw random snow sitting on the benches out in the court yard and had to plunge her hands into it . . .

. . . and wipe it all off.

She was somewhat satisfied with the way the snow was sticking and I showed her how to make a snowball. I did not, however, have to show her what you do with a snowball. Apparently that comes automatically and right in the gut if you aren't paying attention.

Then she told me to "stay right there". She ran away from me quite a ways and dropped down and started making a snow angel. She is so good at those. She asked me to help her out (so as not to wreck the angel) then demanded that I make one of my own. So I did. I was rather impressed that I remembered the formula for helping yourself up and out of the angel so as not to break it and then . . .

I turned around and she said, "I am kicking your angel." AWWWWWHHHH! Man. But then . . .

She volunteered to make a new one and told me to kick hers. Now we are even-ish.

Labor Day Weekend

All in all I think we had a pretty good visit with Ninny and Papa. I got this dress. At first I didn't want to wear a dress at all but within an hour I was loving it. I even posed for pictures.

Just a quick note about our weekend.

We took off straight after work and made it to Ninny and Papa's house pretty quickly. We only stayed up a little late but Saturday was going to be a big day. We drove over the mountain and picked up some vegetables. Then we stopped at an estate sale in an old hardware store. I got a new book.

When we got back I decided that I needed to climb the tree in the front yard. Lucky for me, my mommy encourages tree climbing, especially when the climbable part is no more than 3 feet off the ground. As it turns out this is the perfect height for me as well.

I am not a fan of spider webs and there were a couple of them in this tree. Also lucky for me, my mommy doesn't mind sweeping them away for me.

I found a shovel my cousin left in the tree and started pretending that I was in the movie "The Sword in the Stone".

Mommy says I just may be too cute for my own good. I saw Papa come home from work and I screamed, "I'm over here, Papa. I am in the tree with a shovel and a ladder."

Papa let me partake in the time honored tradition of removing the boots after work. Mommy swears she used to do this too. Papa has big feet.

Then I started in to playing with him. I didn't let up all night.

Papa had the most awesome idea. He said we'd be roasting marshmellows. I know what they are but I am not sure why he started this fire.

Then Papa squished two huge mallows on a stick and put them over the fire. I am a quick learner.

So I grabbed the other stick and a huge mallow and put them together. I swiped my mallow through the fire once.

I like my mallows extremely rare. Mommy put one in the fire until it was a toasty brown color and really squishy in the middle but I didn't even want to try it. She says one day she will teach me how to toast the perfect mallow, but I felt like mine was perfect just the way it was.

Mommy told Papa that if he was going to give me mallows that he had to stay up with me until I crashed. He asked Ninny to put on another pot of coffee. I ran it off though. When it got too dark to do laps around the yard . . .

I went inside and colored my heart out. I was able to spell my own name. We have been working on it in school.

Monday when we woke up, it was cool enough that I needed a jacket. I grabbed that and my "wui-tar" because we had a long trip ahead of us.

Of course the only fair I've ever been too was small and they didn't have a whole lot there so it was quite a big deal to go to the fair in Blackfoot.

Ninny rode the carousel with me. I love my Ninny and I made sure to tell my mommy that on the way home.

I got to ride the color worm roller coaster with mommy. If you think seeing her in this tiny car is funny, you should have seen her try to get out of the plane ride.

This was officially my favorite ride though. I want to go on it again and again.

At the petting zoo I got to feed the goats and sheep. The puppies were all too sleepy so I didn't get to hold one. Mommy said she wants to know why it is twice as much to buy a chihuahua as it is to buy a llama. She says you can at least eat the llama.

I got to pet this guy too. He has big, big feet.

Before when I was going to pet a goat there was a stranger holding it so I didn't want to. This time, I was ok with petting the animals. A few of them bowled me over. We had a pretty good visit.

POST 100

Stuck on post 99 for five months. How sad. It's not that I haven't had things to talk about . . . just not ready to talk about them just yet. So post 1oo, with it's writers block, shall pass unceremoniously. Thank you.

Oh, no you didn't.

For those of you out there who are vaguely unaware.  I am a slightly more conservative member of the free-range parenting movement.  I let my kid experience life.  I let her explore ways to help out.

For instance, just yesterday she decided she was big enough to help take the trash to the bin on the curb.  I feel, as a parent, that I should be there if she needs help (like hefting the bag into the bin that is obviously taller than she is) but I should let her choose whether she drags the bag of refuse down the right or left side of the car to get it there.  I mean, really, there isn't a right an wrong way to take out the trash.  There isn't a right and wrong way to load the dishwasher.  There isn't a right and wrong way to put your clothes in the hamper.  These are all things my daughter is excited to be able to help with and I am not about to do anything to hamper that willing attitude.  Since I left the nest, I have never lived with another person who didn't have to be nagged to help with chores at least once.  That is three sets of grown women as roommates and an ex boyfriend who would rather . . . well.  I will tell you that story someday, if you ask.

This is a time in my little girl's life when I have to encourage independence.  There are a number of things I would like her to go to college knowing how to do herself: cooking, saving, growing stuff.  Take the above picture for instance.  On the side of the sink you'll notice a missing (what was a half roll) of toilet paper.  You'll notice her hand nearest the camera is wet and what you can't see is that she is holding part of the paper roll the tp comes on.  In the potty is the other piece of that tube and on the floor over there is a slight smear of poop.  

Under that tube piece that is in the potty, though, is a larger piece of poo.  This is a huge milestone for us today.  She went into the bathroom on her own, pulled down her own pants (et al) climbed up on the potty seat and dumped a big ol' . . . in the pot.  She hollered at me to help her get cleaned up . . . obviously after she decided it was a bigger job than she could handle, but still.  It won't be long before I don't have to worry about random presents on the carpet.  If you've been following (hi, to the new person I am not sure if I know or not) this is the most glorious day of potty training yet.  I know I am a long way from this being consistent but she is trained at night and mostly consistent during the day.  I think I am going to cry as I type . . . she's getting so big.  But, she is still an only child.  Who only has a dog to play with.  She is also about to, in the not so distant future, spend two days in a car.  

Now, I know that in Oklahoma 50 degrees is analagous to 0 degrees, but where we are going - it actually is 0 degrees . . . in March.  I get that people in my neighborhood are aware that I am a single mom but folks, that does not mean that I am stupid.  Why do people think that?  It's not like there are politicians who are actively perpetuating the idea that single moms are poor, trailer trash that don't know how to keep from having children and are a drain on society or . . . wait.  I guess I should expect people to feel that way.  Unless they asked, they would have no way of knowing that I am an educated single mother with a full time job that provides ample insurance who has never taken a dime of help from anyone, not even her child's father and is currently pursuing her master's.  But that means someone would have to come and talk to me and they don't. 

That brings me to today and this last picture up there.  Xyla was squealing while she was playing with the dog outside today.  Running around the yard having a grand old time.  She was trying to keep him from eating her crackers.  As you can see she was wearing long sleeves, long pants and her shoes.  While it wasn't freezing, it was a bit chilly.  To be honest, she is not a child who will tolerate being cold.  When I felt her skin she was not cold (even her fingers).  She was running in and out of the house.  This is a common occurance where I am from.  Once it's warm enough (over 10 degrees) kids play outside.  When it hits a 50 degree heatwave, they can go without a coat.

The door bell rings.  I closed the back door just a bit so the dog didn't get out.  I honestly thought it was my neighbor bringing her kids over to play for a while so she had time to clean her house.  She was totally cool with her kids being outside too and she had just been out there in nothing but her house coat.  I open the door and it is actually the male neighbor from two doors down.  His wife had sent him over to ask me if I knew that my daughter was outside without a jacket.  

(Cricket)

(Cricket, cricket)

There are days when it is so hard to be polite.  I told him, thanks for his concern and that indeed I did know that she was out there.  I started to close the door but he continued - "you know my wife sent me over because she is kind of concerned that she is outside and it's a little cold and your little girl doesn't have a coat on.  Like he was going to stand there until I put a snow suit on her.  I said, the door is open unless she closes it so she has free range (hint, hint) to go out there if she wants and come inside if she gets cold.  I trust her judgement.  I know she doesn't have her jacket on but right here next to the house, where I am actually sitting just inside the door watching her play, the sun makes it quite a bit warmer than the air lets on.  Again, thank you for your (condescending) concern but she is just fine.  They must think I abuse my child, you know the way we play in the snow or enjoy it (read: stand in it) when the snow is falling.  It makes me want to go home even more.

So I write this post today hoping that I will not be getting a visit from child welfare on Monday.  I am not sure what my neighbors would do if they found out I was a Yankee.  I know, it's a term usually reserved for people from the northeast but honestly they don't have a word for northwesterners, it's like they think we only exist in fairy tales.   

Nearly Listed . . . Countdown begins now.

*Disclaimer: I am a public affairs specialist with the Natural Resources Conservation Service. I wrote this article to appear in the Oklahoma New Trail e-newsletter. I reposted it here so my friends and family can see what I do.

As you drive through the Oklahoma historic prairie chicken habitat range in the northwest part of the state, you pass the tractor tucks loading under grain elevators that tower over the tiny high plains towns with Native American names. Here, if producers are not raising cattle they are growing something that feeds cattle or some combination of the two. There is barely a trickle of water in the North Canadian River and that emphasizes the looming drought. The leafless deciduous trees interspersed with eastern redcedar stretch over broken down fences that remind residents of the kind of history that was the topic of epic Hollywood movies. In some cases, the precariously leaning housing structures may have once seeped a decade of dust into the lungs of people who still work the land. In other cases, the broken windmills could mark the original homestead site the landowner’s family built in the late 1800’s.

According to 82 year-old landowner and cattle rancher Albert Williams, for many of the land owners who didn’t leave the area during the great depression the oil and gas industries made it possible for ranches, like the one his father passed to him, to continue production even through droughts. He is worried about the drought the state is anticipating this year. Williams says in addition to environmental conditions the economy is taking its toll as well. He says that while the work of getting a calf ready to sell has remained the same, the cost of doing business has increased to the point where having a sustainable operation is getting harder and harder.

As you drive into Woodward from Highway 183 you can see the towers harvesting wind energy on nearly every ridge surrounding the town. The wind in Oklahoma is not likely to stop blowing so this seemingly perpetual renewable resource is the next in-demand industry that is helping producers supplement their operations.

Nearly all of the land in Woodward County is privately owned. More than 100 private landowners convened February 23, 2010, at the High Plains Technical Institute in Woodward, Okla., to attend the fifth in a series of ranch conversations discussing the status of the other resident of the county that could change everything about everything: the lesser prairie chicken.

The lesser prairie chicken is a species of upland bird that in 2008, with low population numbers, earned the highest rating this bird species can rate as a candidate for listing under the Threatened and Endangered Species Act. The historical range for the bird covers five states; Oklahoma, Kansas, Texas, Colorado and New Mexico. These states and federal agencies have been working together to improve the habitat these prairie chickens live in.

The meeting was organized by High Plains RC&D, Buffalo, a Natural Resources Conservation Service sponsored organization, several local rural development partners and private sponsors. The producers and the partnership of state, local and federal agencies have been conversing about the potential listing of the bird for a decade, but Wednesday night the Biologist Ken Collins of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service announced that the agency has received partial funding to begin the process that will determine whether the bird is listed as threatened, endangered or the consideration for listing is withdrawn all together. The proposed rule is estimated to take 18 months to complete, the whole process . . . over two years.

The impact of listing could extend to the land owners through their leases with oil and gas companies and wind energy contracts. There is no grandfather clause that protects people who have already established these leases. The placement of these structures could have to be changed to meet standards that will be set to provide optimal habitat restoration for the bird. Any new development would have to go through processes that can delay the construction of nearly anything by months if not years.

After the presentations by agencies there was a period for questions from the landowners. The conversation was intense but civil. Many wondered what, about this bird, is worth more than the weight of the past, the struggles of the present, and the prosperity perceived for the future? Donald Wolfe, senior biologist with The Sutton Avian Research Center explained that the lesser prairie chicken is considered an indicator species. That means the birds are greatly affected by any changes in their habitat and their presence indicates that the environment is doing well enough to support a sensitive species. He also said that they are considered an umbrella species. That means the things that are done to benefit this species will also benefit other plant and animal species, wild and domestic.

One producer noted the ways other endangered species have been restored and enquired whether those other methods would be effective for this species as well. For other upland and endangered species, scientists were able to repopulate abandoned but suitable habitat using methods that increase reproduction. The problem for this species is not an attack on the reproduction process, necessarily, it is the disappearance of suitable habitat that has caused their numbers to dwindle. Therefore, the only way to restore the population is to restore the habitat where they can live.

Through the presentations the Natural Resources Conservation Service, Farm Service Agency, and the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation presented the variety of voluntary practices that make up the current overall plan to restore the habitat through brush management and removing unnecessary and unused structures like broken fences and old broken windmills and in some cases some of the dilapidated homestead structures, then restoring the ideal nesting, feeding and living habitat that consists mostly of native grasses.

NRCS offers technical and financial assistance to producers to accomplish these goals. In financial assistance alone, the agency has $2.8 million available to landowners and producers in counties that fall in the lesser prairie chicken habitat range that can be applied to restoring habitat. The Lesser Prairie Chicken Habitat Initiative is scheduled to continue for at least two more years with similar funding levels. Roger Wells represented The National Wild Turkey Federation and said the organization was willing to support area producers and landowners as they need to acquire the equipment to accomplish the goals of the programs of the federal and state agencies.

Brush management can help landowners control eastern redcedar, mostly through the use of mechanical removal and prescribed fire. Control of these species are not only beneficial for the bird, it can also increase the usefulness of land the landowners have already lost because of encroachment. Prescribed fire is also effective in encouraging growth of native grasses which include the legumes the birds eat. The practice also reduces the threat of wildfire to private lands by reducing fuel loads. Ron Voth, Oklahoma Wildlife and Prairie Heritage Association offered information for producers who might be interested in joining the current effort to form a state-wide burn association to help secure liability insurance to cover prescribed burning and limit losses from planned burns that get out of control, which is one of the major concerns for people who are unsure about the use of fire as a management tool.

Another threat to the species habitat are the broken fences that no longer hold anything in, the windmills that can’t draw water from a well but provide a perch for predators and other structures that impede the travel of the lesser prairie chicken to their mating grounds. More than one program is offered to help producers remove these unnecessary and unusable structures. Programs exist to help mark the first and third wire on any useful fence line to help reduce bird deaths from impact with the fence.

While time is short, it isn’t too late for conservation efforts to be lead locally. Because the county is nearly entirely privately owned land, the only people who can do anything to prevent the listing are the land owners at this point. The only other species of prairie chicken currently listed on the Threatened and Endangered Species List is the Attwaters Prairie Chicken. It has been listed since 1967.

And that's why I like snow.

Our adventure today begins with Xyla, tired of watching movies, grabbing my hand and leading me over to the front door.  She says "open door."  I knew this moment was coming.  We didn't have anything else to do, or be responsible for.  She was dressed in the sweatshirt her Aunt Brandy embroidered for her and her tangerine capri pants.  I wondered if she would try to walk out there with no shoes on so I opened the door.  

She got right up next to the door jamb, then turned to me and wanted me to pick her up.  She insisted but I told her that if she was going to go outside that she was going to have to walk out there on her own.  (I wasn't wearing any shoes either and I knew this wasn't going to be a two minute deal.)  She looked out the door and thought about it for a minute.  She said, "I need shoes."

I said, "very good, now where are they?"  She pointed to her pink and white tennis shoes and I closed the door, picked up some socks and her shoes and started putting them on her.  I grabbed my own pair of shoes, knowing this was going to go further than the driveway.  

We walked out the door and around the front of the car parked in the driveway.  She is very nervous about ice and there was quite a bit of it on the other side of the car.  I modeled a penguin walk and she followed.  Now before you say anything about the penguin walk let me ask you, have you ever seen a penguin fall on the ice?  So it works.  Stop laughing.

Once she got to the other side of the ice patch she said, "there no more."  I told her no there wasn't anymore ice.  So we walked down the driveway.  At the bottom of the driveway there is a river of slush.  I didn't even check to see what the temperature was, I didn't have to.  If the snow was melting this quickly then it was over 40 which is good enough for me.  The sun was warm on our shoulders. 

We started to walk down the street.  We made it to the mail boxes.  I am glad someone had the kind heart to shovel out a path for the mailman, if they can't get to the box - they don't deliver the mail.  That is a bad policy when 20 houses in the subdivision get their mail from the same cluster of boxes.  

We wandered around the cement pad where the mail boxes sit.  I had to explain to Xyla that we didn't have our key so we couldn't check our mail unless we went back to the house to get said key.  She wasn't having any of that.  She found a key on the ground.  It was the key to one of the large parcel boxes at the end of the row.  Of course it was the box with the number that was hard to reach because the plow (that came through at 9:30 at night) managed to pile it all, right there.  I reached over there an put the key in the box.  That is how the mail man gets the keys back.  I really should have checked to see if there was anything in the box since now it was open, but then what would I do with whatever was inside.  (I hope they get their mail.)

We continued down the street and came to the place where the subdivision turns into a field.  We turned around and started down the other cul-de-sac street.  We got to the bottom of the turnabout and she discovered slush.  After a few minutes of stomping around in it she stopped.  Set her foot down.  Thought about.  Lifted her foot up.  Thought about it.  Then said, "it making water."  I told her, "yes, when ice melts it turns into water."  Ironically, the same snow turns to water theme that was on The Magic School Bus today.  

We made our way through the "squishy slushy" back to our yard.  It was a bit of a struggle because she was just sure I was going to make her go inside.  I got her convinced that once we got back to the house we could make a snowman.  Then there was a little less talk and a lot more walk.  

I didn't even go in the house when we first got back to the yard.  I made a snow ball and plopped it in the snow.  I started to roll it.  She was intrigued.  I told her we had to roll it in other snow to make a ball.  When the snow is that slushy, it doesn't roll as well.  I decided that the snowman would be no bigger than her.  Mainly because it doesn't take a whole lot of height to impress an almost three year old and I didn't want to have to heft the dreaded second ball on top of the first.  It only took two swipes of her hands in the snow for her to decide it was too cold to put her hands in.  She was torn because she really wanted to make a snowman but she really didn't like her hands to be cold.  I asked her if she might like to go inside to get some gloves.  She shook her head yes.  

We went inside, I left the front door open so she would know that I intended to take her right back outside as soon as she was properly adorned.  

She shot out of the house, very excited that we were going to make this snowman.  (Going inside was an excellent opportunity for me to grab the camera too. )  Let me back up.  Just before Christmas we got an e-Christmas card from a relative that was a little bit of a game.  Woodland and domestic animals making a snowman.  She played that nearly nonstop and mentioned it at least 15 times every time I even looked sideways at the computer.  Add to that the snowmen at the stores and on her shirt and and everywhere else she looked . . . well you get that she knew about the snowman, right?  And why she was so excited to make one.  You know since the first snow was mid January and it didn't stick.  this was the first real snow that was snowman worthy.

The rolling of the first ball wasn't going so well.  It wasn't so much a ball as a lopsided lump.  I set it and started filling out the ball by taking handfuls of snow and patting them on to shape the ball.  It didn't take her long to pick up what I was up to.

The top ball was hardest to shape properly.  I find with smaller snowman size, judgement on ball size is a bit skewed.  In this case, lumpy and slightly off kilter.  It was too late though we were on a roll.  I tried out two leaves for eyes but shortly learned that Oklahoma, being the windy place that it is, was not going to let this be a 'natural' snowman.

The sucker she had when we started this adventure was abandoned in the first slush stop.  She handed it to me and never thought about it again.  I ate the rest of it.  I make no excuses, sometimes you have to take one for the team.  Consequently, the stick made a decent mouth.

Xyla was very serious about making sure her snowman had all the parts a person is supposed to have.  (Don't worry, she isn't aware of the major anatomical difference between boys and girls yet.)

Sn-yo-gee Bear?

She was very careful about the details.  We added arms and ears and snow eyes (after the leaves blew away) and twig eyebrows.  Look at this girl crafting the snow.  She was so serious too.  There was one place in the yard where it was apparent that someone in the neighborhood thought the drift in front of the house (3 feet) was steep enough to serve as a sledding hill.  Of course you can also tell that in order to sled, you should actually have a sled.  Sledding on your butt won't get you far unless the snow is firmly packed and this snow was very much not.  What I am trying to say is there are random foot prints and then butt prints that scoot about 4 feet. There are only two tracks.

However, there was still one spot in the yard that was broad and white and clean and just hollering for snow angels.  I asked Xyla if she wanted to make a snow angel and she said no.  I decided that I would show her what a snow angel is.  Then she just had to make one too.  (This is where my camera battery died.)  

Then it was back to the snow man.   She knocked off his arms.  Popped off his eyes.  Ooops-ed his ears and he was back to the generic three ball shape.  She got this look on her face.  She put her arms up for me to pick her up so I did.  I asked her if she was done for today and she shook her head yes.  I trapsed through the snow packing my baby girl and headed in the house.  I set her down for just a minute and she started crying saying, "snowman . . . SNOman . . . SNOWMAN."  I told her that we would go out and play with the snowman again tomorrow.  

She was really upset.  I haven't seen her really emotionally hurt and crying very many times.  I asked her if she missed the snowman.  She nodded her teary head yes.  I told her we would go out and see the snowman first thing in the morning.  Then I held her for a long time.  I set her down on the couch with a pillow and her blanket and a cup of milk.  In less than three minutes, she was fast asleep.  I hope she dreams of dancing with her snowman.  Good night, snow angel.