We got spirit, yes we do!

I had hit the end of my rope.

Why does getting dressed throw Riley for a loop?
Why do I dread taking Riley to school and picking her up?
How come we butt heads so much?

Exhausted, I turned to the Internet, what else, right? I came across quite a few rave reviews for a book called, Raising Your Spirited Child.

Written by a Mom of a fellow spirited child, Mary Sheedy Kurcinka writes that spirited children are more. They are more intense, focused, energetic, slow to transition, sensitive, than your average kid. This is Riley. I actually started crying when I read some of the parent's accounts of their kids and how they felt about parenting these children. For so long, I have felt like I have done something wrong - whether it was too many ultrasounds or the fact that she was "spoiled" or "needed to be put on medicine." These are all things that I had heard from people and things I thought to myself at one time or another. In contrast, Mary wants us to change our thinking -- from bossy to a leader, from sensitive to in-tune, or from problem child to problem-solver.

What was even more surprising is the author's take on introverts and extroverts and the role that parent's style plays into the equation. I have always known I am an extrovert and admittedly, I am sensitive to noises and clothes but love being the center of attention. I am refueled by talking with adults. Dan on the other hand is introverted, preferring to be alone with his thoughts as he thinks through a problem. Riley has both of these qualities. While she is quick to get on her "stage" at home to belt out a tune, she is very timid about new people, experiences, and places. She'd rather watch and see then jump right in and start playing.
Although I am only half-way through the book, it had also taught me that denying who Riley is, would be robbing her of her joy, her energy, and all of the other qualities that make her who she is. But, working with these traits, learning how to anticipate meltdowns and how to communicate with her is not only effective but sets her up for success -- and more importantly, sets our family up for success.
I hope to continue to write about our journey using this book and how we have incorporated it into our parenting toolbox. I am dying to attend one of her workshops. Dan, on the other hand, jokingly asks during one of Riley's meltdowns, "Is this her spirit talking?"

Baby Daredevil

Reese 10.5 months old.

This is my life (also known as the Bambi post).

Sometimes, I look around and think to myself, this is my life. I cannot believe I am doing this. While sometimes, this is accompanied by a smile, other times, I am laughing...or crying.

Take for example, the scene the unfolded on Wednesday.

The day started off like normal, Ms. Riley came out of her room, smiling, and greeting me with kisses. Soon after, she become angry with me because we had ran out of chocolate chip muffins. The audacity, right? She had to settle for a waffle. This sent her into a tail-spin for a majority of the morning. We had plans to meet my Mom at Hobby Lobby to peruse the fabric selections when Riley had a meltdown over not being able to wear her bathing suit to the store. Yelling and screaming followed, from both ends I am embarrassed to admit.

After an hour and a half, I managed to get her into the car and the girls and I took the trek north to meet Mimi and Papa for lunch and shopping.

While at Hobby Lobby, Riley convinced Mimi to purchase none other than "Bambi." She had her mind set on the medium size, poly-resin statue of the deer, you know the kind -- used in yards around the country as if to say, Hey look, I have a deer sitting in my flowers, no never mind, it's just a creepy statue.

Anyways, Riley was infatuated with the deer. Even had it sit on her lap on the way home from the store, talking kindly to "her" as we drove home as she softly stroked her back.

With another impending meltdown coming, I had Riley and Bambi lay down for some quiet time. She read to Bambi, put some necklaces on her, and even let her use the pillow.

After baby sister woke up, we decided to take Bambi outside to pick out her new resting spot by the swing set. At least, this was my idea, Riley had another one.

She then proceeded to carry Bambi around the neighborhood - hoisting "her" on to her shoulder like a scene from the Bible. I kept picturing the manger scene, with these shepard boys carrying lambs to baby Jesus. I couldn't stifle my laughter.

Now, Bambi is heavy. It left marks on her shoulder. But, she insisted on holding the stupid thing. En route to her friends house, the meltdown begins.

"I don't want to wear this dress," she says through tears. The sobs continue. I manage to soothe her saying, let's go home, get a drink, and rest. We get to the garage and she is enraged about not being able to find her "pink and yellow dress." I manage to get her to stop and breathe. At this point, poor baby sister is just looking around the garage, thinking about how hot it is and there I am holding this damn deer.

It dawns upon her that now, she would like to change her shoes, which much to my dismay are in the van. I open the door as she frantically searches for her lost show under the seat. Then she notices me taking the picture and yells, "Don't take my picture." She is sobbing at this point.

After she has her shoes on, we trek back over to out friends house and she again, insists on bringing Bambi with us. Sweet baby Jesus. She places Bambi down and doesn't want anyone to look at the deer.

Three meltdowns later, we end up back at home, Bambi is resting by the slide, and I called Dan to ask him when he was coming home.

The Week in Review

We have been busy...

Dealing with a fever

Dealing with teething

Swinging in the heat...

and eating our feet.

On being a Mom.

I think I have some pretty big shoes to fill in the Mom department.
My Mom totally rocks. She is my best friend. Riley told me today in the car, "I want Mimi to be my Mommy." I said, "What about me?" She thought for a second or two and replied, "You can be my Daddy.....with Daddy."

I totally get it. I love my mom and Riley adores her Mimi. I want to be like her too.

It comes as no surprise that I can get down on myself when I feel like I'm not doing a good job in the Mommy - kid raising - patience having- department. Many people are quick to point out what Moms are doing wrong. "You should make her sit in the stroller," "Don't let her do that," or "Make her do this." My usual reply is, "I'm just doing the best that I can." Everyday, I get up, and do the best that I can. Some days, I totally rock this Mom thing. Like, my boss, if I had one, would want to give me a raise and a promotion. Some days, my boss would totally fire me.

Here's the sad thing -- Moms don't talk about this. I know far too many Moms that are in the closet about their failures or bad days. Not me, I'm the type that will shout it from the rooftop or put it as a status update, if you will. That's the way we learn from each other. No one is perfect and more importantly, there shouldn't be pressure to be perfect. No matter if you have one kid, three, or thirteen, this gig is hard and it's a learning process. Give me a break, give other Moms a break, and give yourself one too while you are at it.

Class of 2011

Let's face it, I am the residential party planner at my house. So, when Dan sprung the, "I'm going to throw you a graduation party," line, I was a bit surprised. However, he did not disappoint.

After making some calls to some of my closest friends, he used his lunch break to purchase all of the necessary supplies for my graduation party.

Grilling Machine Dan served up hamburgers and hot dogs, served on, what else, Class of 2011 plates.
Two and a half years of working at night, on the weekends, and spending time at my office, aka Panera, and my journey has finally come to an end. I am proud of myself. I am proud of my husband who is proud of me. I am proud of my parents for doing whatever they could to support me.

On to the next adventure!

Chocolate Party

Most parents may balk at the idea of their three year old requesting a chocolate party. However, my dear friends, as a chocolate lover myself, I rejoice in this chance to have a chocolate themed get-together with a few friends. Dan, well Dan gets a rash from chocolate.

On Saturday afternoon after a lunch with Mimi and Papa, the "Hostess with the Most-ess" walked into a transformed playroom.
Riley's "Desserts and Dress Up" party was set, we just needed a few, close friends to enjoy the chocolate fountain, with marshmallows, strawberries, pineapples, bananas, pretzel sticks, pound cake, and Nilla Wafers to dip. Check. Of course, cupcakes and a chocolate cake rounded out the desserts. Let's not forget about the chocolate martinis for the Mommies and Daddies.

What? Mom's like chocolate too!

Her party, much smaller than in year's past was fun, relaxed, and completely enjoyable. At the end of the day, Riley's "Sweet Shop" closed and we took our three year old out to dinner at her favorite place, Chik-Fil-A.

Three: A Birthday Letter

I am bouncing back into the blogging world with a birthday letter (albeit a bit late) for the three year old in the house, Ms. Riley Belle.

Dear Riley,

You are quite possibly, the funniest, cutest, silliest, and smartest girl I know. Your Dad calls you "MJ" aka Mini Jamie, and I know why - you are definitely a mini-me. From your mannerisms, sighs, and expressions, you have me pegged, girl, and I don't mind it one bit. This year, you have flourished as a big sister. You take care of Reese, you squeeze her, love her, and are concerned when she's upset. While you still don't like to eat much and would rather have Chik-Fil-A, milkshakes, and breakfast foods any day over the usual stuff, you are a little lady with strong opinions. You love your "flower dress" and refuse lately anything that resembles a hair accessory. You prefer your long mane to be long, and well, flowing like a "princess."

Riley - I don't think words could ever express the sunshine you bring into our life each and every day. I could tell stories about your adventures all day long and I am so glad to share in those adventures with you. You are my big girl, and as you say, "You are my big girl too, Momma." I love your laugh, the way you love us, and the way you love sticks and leaves. You have surprised me this past year with your incredible wit and knowledge about things, places, and animals. You are eager to learn and eager to show us what you can do. You can swim like a fish but you prefer to "tweet, tweet."

Your Dad, Reese, and I love you and your incredible spunk. We are better people because you are in our lives. We love you to the moon and back, baby bird.

Love,

Momma Bird and Daddy Bird

CandyLand

After I got my morning chores done and Reesie Pie was fast asleep, Riley and I settled down to a good old fashioned game of CandyLand. She was so good, saying the colors, counting the squares, and making sure she moved not only her piece, but mine as well. It was so nice to spend some quality time with my girl.

What have we been doing?

Amid the flurry of thesis writing in the evenings, the show must go on at home. What, you may ask, fills our day?

Well, Riley has been perfecting her wrestling moves. She is actually bent over Reese in this photo and has her in sort of a half-hold. She was even pounding the floor as if she was counting the beats to defeat. Reese, well, she is literally trying to walk...away from the madness. PS. She just turned 8 months. She is currently busy crawling, cruising along the couch and other items, and stands on her own for a bit.

Then we have dress-up time, followed by dance time, then changing our dress seven hundred times, then insisting on only wearing one certain dress with stripes and pockets. Repeat.

We have also discovered another obsession: Lipstick. Another good substitution is chap stick. I will watch her circle her mouth with it on a continuous circle for the longest time.

Riley does love Reesie Pie. I often liken it to Fatal Attraction. Reese's eyes always light up when Riley walks into the room...and then she develops a nervous twitch ;)