The best gifts in life are . . . free.

I am elbow deep in advice these days.  My little girl is not afraid of water, not even a little.  She climbs anything that will hold still.  She insists on my letting her get out of the car on her own.  She won't let me feed her.  She wants to do everything I do.  I have been teaching her to ask for help when she needs it.  When I see her start to struggle I say, "help please?"  and she either says no or repeats what I say.  That's how I know whether to help her or not. 

The craziest thing is it isn't really an age or list of accomplishments that announces the arrival of independence.  The single thing that indicates whether your child is ready for gymnastics or ski lessons or swimming lessons is "They must be potty trained."  As if you are bringing your dog for obedience school.  It has been kind of a long road so far but I am not singularly fixated on this accomplishment.  I just really think that she would take to it.  She has quite a few of the signs that she is ready.  She can tell me when she has to go (she doesn't always do this).  She has gone from sitting on the pot once an hour at daycare to every two hours and seems to be holding it until she gets to the potty again.  She has told me "mommy, hurry, mommy potty." And that was a great day.  Slowly we are marching right along with the process.  Other moms have told me that it can be done in one weekend if you can handle the mess and are consistent with it.  I tried that and I prefer not to clean up the mess.  I am sure other moms would be getting discouraged by now.  My personal feeling is as long as she is getting the principles we can wrap it all together at some point if I could get her past one hurdle.  

The thing is.   She doesn't mind it when her diaper is full of poo.  She doesn't wine about it.  She doesn't make faces.  She disappears for a minute and then comes back with a certain . . . odor.  That's our hurdle, getting her to be uncomfortable with the poo touching her body.  In every other little thing she doesn't like getting dirty.  Had a fit about finger paints.  Won't eat messy food with her hands.  Gets upset when she steps in a mud pit and it's all over her shoes.  Why she doesn't have a problem with stinky poo on her booty, I don't know.  I would have thought that would have been simple.  I heard some one describe the sentiment once and she seems to agree, "It's warm and it's mine."

What happened this morning is going down as the best gift she has given me to date.  I was in my room trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep.  She was out in the living room playing with her toys.  She had closed me in my room and I was waiting for her to come knock on the door like she usually does after a few minutes.  It took a little longer than usual but the knock came.  It was a little awkward but it was there.  I got up and opened the door and said, "c'min" the way she does when she is on my side of the door.  I turned around before I got a look at her and what she was holding and laid back down in my bed.  She said, "momma."  I turned my head without opening my eyes and said, "yes, babay."  She said, "MOMMA" and made an odd swipe at me.  I opened my eyes.

In her hand was a pull-up with one side unfastened.  She was being very careful to hold it up but despite that there was still one lump that was trying to escape.  I jumped up pretty quickly.  When I finally looked at her face she had such a huge smile and look of pride on her face.  You might be tempted to think the "gift" was a big ol' stinky pull-up full of poo.  The reality is the gift is the confirmation that potty training is moving right along.  It's working and she's doing it on her own time.  I am so proud.

Xyla got to spend some time with her daddy today.

This is going to be the picture we give him for father's day.

This is the picture we are going to put at the top of the blog.

In case you wonder, you need to go down the slide faster if daddy is right behind you.

Ballin' with my Daddy.  He's got moves but he ain't got nothin' on me.

See, I put one up against the old man.

The curse of dreaming.

I had a disturbing dream last night.  It wasn't something I worried about after Xyla was born.   Please understand this is one of the things I worried about when I was about to become the mother of a mixed child.  I honestly thought she was going to be quite a bit darker than she is because, honestly, have you seen her dad?  I worried about having to prove to someone that she is my daughter.

In my dream Xyla and I are at the park.  It is a park that is familiar in the dream but not in real life.  Meaning, in the dream it's a place we go all the time.  It's no secret Xyla and I don't look much alike.  She looks like a lightly toasted version of her father.  I know and most black folks know that she is mixed, however, if you are white and don't know us there is a good chance  you'd never really know that fact by looking at her.  

Back to the dream.  The couple in the dream have the faces of two people from a blog I read regularly.  (I am sure they would never do in real life what they did in the dream so I won't name names.)  After spending all day in the park and noticing the couple, with their own children, watching us uncomfortably closely, I decide it is time to leave because quite frankly they are creeping me out.  Their van is parked on the street side of mine.  It is blocked from behind by a smaller car and the drive way out of the parking lot is a thin one.  

They decide that this can't possibly be my child because she is black and I am white and that they must intervene to avert what they think is a kidnapping.  As I turn to load Xyla in the car the man grabs a hold of her and forcefully takes her from me.  His wife is already loading her own kids into their van.  She leaves the door of the van open and comes to her husbands side.  I am screaming at him.  Telling him to give me my child.  He says, "we don't think she belongs to you.  You are going to have to prove that she is yours before a judge, we are not giving her back until we are sure she is safe."  He turns and starts to walk around my car to their van.  

I feel nearly helpless.  I can't take her back without hurting her.  I can't stop them and there isn't anyone to help me.  The only thing I can think to do is try to stop them from leaving and call the cops to sort it out.  I grab my phone out of the car and stand directly in front of their van.  They keep yelling, "you have to move.  You can't just stand there."  I yell at them, "you can't just take my child."  I start trying to think where I left her birth certificate and what is the number to 911 . . . and about how in thirty seconds this guy could decide to drive over top of me and I don't know them so I don't know where they live and I might never see her again.  Then I wake up.

I hate that thought.  The thought that anyone thinks they might have the right to take her from me because we don't look alike.  The thought that I should be carrying around her birth certificate to prove that I am her mother.  The thought that someone would actually think that she isn't safe with me.  It is the worst feeling in the world.   The idea that complete strangers would think that it was their place to step in and basically kidnap my child because they don't know us.  It was very upsetting. 

This dream was no different from most of my dreams in that, I knew I was dreaming.  I just haven't been able to shake the yucky feeling it gave me all day.  She is everything good that has happened to me all rolled into one person.  I made the effort today to have a special day.  Since it is "Free Fishing Days", one of two in the year that you don't have to have a state license to fish in Oklahoma, I took her fishing.  Last week we lasted an  hour and 20 minutes.  This week we were there significantly less time but we did get our poles wet.  We went for a walk.  I asked her if she wanted to go over to the park on the other side and she said, "sure, momma."  Once we got in the car I asked, "are you ready to go over there to the park?"  She said, "no, momma."

I said, " you aren't ready?"  she didn't answer.  I said, "you don't want to go to the park."  She said, "no, momma."  I was a bit relieved.  I didn't really want to go to the park either.  I asked again to be sure and again she said, "no, momma."  We went to the library instead.  We found a couple of books and tried to get her on the kids computers and found out she has to have her own card to do so.  We signed her up for a card.  We picked up lunch and came home.

She ate some of her food, the dog ate some of her food.  I ate my food, which wasn't that tasty.  

I let her play outside for a little while and then it was time to take a nap.  I made her lay down. She cried.  I asked her if she wanted me to hold her, she said, "no, I crying."  I asked her why she was crying.  She didn't know, she cried louder.  This is a difficult age for me.  By the time my sister's little girl was this age she was able to describe to the girl at the take out window, in some detail, exactly what she thought of the service they were getting.

I was sure she was overly tired and just having a tough time going to sleep.  I tried to get her to calm down and close her eyes but she just kept crying.  I didn't know what to do for her and she doesn't know how to tell me what's wrong.  She had been saying, "I crying," throughout the day. And at random she would burst into tears.  For no reason.  The sentiment inside of me was coming out of her.  Right now she is running on two hours of trying to nap with no success and I am running on empty.  I feel a sense of helplessness and loss that I can't seem to shake and there isn't a precipitating reason for it.

I would have spent time in prayer during her nap but obviously that didn't go like I hoped.  I will before I collapse in bed tonight.  In the mean time, here's a few shots from the day.

Poppy, Darla and Poop

Here are a few pictures from our week.

First roses of the season.  Surprising since the plant was pelted in the storm last week.

This girl is drinking from a cup without spilling.  She still prefers her other cup for now though.

I think she misunderstood.  I said, "would you like to watch tv?"

I am in the kitchen fixing dinner when I hear, "Momma . . . momma . . ."  I come around the corner and again with the climbing the bookshelves.

Many times, as a single mom, you realize you haven't heard from your child in a while.  Not even a peep.  So you go looking for them.  She wasn't  hiding, per se.  She was coloring on the back of the blinds with a green marker.  Fortunately the green only shows up if it contacts the special paper in the color book that came with it.

Letter to the Editor of the Fairy Tale Times:

Dear Sir, 

I understand that when you build your house out of candy there will be some silliness to be expected.  This is getting out of hand.  Please see the attached picture.  I found her in my pantry.  My oven already full, I had to put her out in the back yard.  If anyone recognizes this child please come get her.  I have all I need for the year.

Sincerely,

The Old Witch In The Woods.

I don't mind her drawing on the sidewalk with chalk.  I just want her to stop eating it.

Name droppin'

How's this for name dropping?

Deputy Secretary of the United Stated Department of Agriculture Merrigan addressing leaders of Native American tribes in Shawnee, OK May 13, 2010.

The Week in Photos

I don't have a lot of words for you this week.  Just some pictures to look at.

These are Portia's kids.

This is why I love my cousins.

Of course I happen to think she has excellent taste in shoes, but then she does her shopping in my closet.

The dog is shedding.  So I broke out the shedding comb and asked Xyla if we should wash the dog.  I am guessing this is an affirmative.