quiet time can be too quiet

I'd like to share three truths of parenting little people that I experienced first-hand today:

1. No two days are ever quite alike.
2. Any day can take a sharp turn for the better or for the worse, at any moment and without warning.
3. An afternoon quiet time can be too quiet.

I began the day well before the girls were up. At Eliana's 5 am feed, actually. Normally, I would fall back asleep. Today, I decided to tackle one last Christmas project before the sun was up. Yes, me. The night owl. Unheard of, I know.

At three and a half, Maia is such a paradox of a little girl and a big girl all at once. She started the day not feeling so well, which afforded us some rare and wonderful cuddly time which reminded me what a little girl she still is. In a moment, she sprung from her sombre start, morphing into a purple kangaroo. Her whole day can waft between independence and dependence -- one stub of the toe can be met with resilience while the next results in a puddle of tears. (By the way, I love that 'mommy kisses' still work their magic. I truly thought those would be done with by now. I don't know how many times a day I ask, "How many kisses do you need for that one?". She always has a number, which clues me into the seriousness of the owie, and always seems to be just what's needed. Yes. I love that.)

Here is a clip of our early morning. It just felt like a snow day today, so we acted accordingly, which included a very rare start with hot chocolate and kids cartoons on CBC. (Can you believe how much this 7-month-old loves the television? A little scary, actually!)





Maia went out to play with the neighbour girls on the huge hills of snow surrounding our place for about an hour midday. This made me think of what a big girl she is becoming -- leaving the nest to play with friends without my supervision. That might sound obvious in terms of child development, but every now and then it dons on me how she is evolving, and how my role needs to evolve then as well.

The highlight of the day might well have been the moment where she decided to poop on the toilet herself. Forgive my directness in speaking about this, but you have no idea what a joy this was for me. No coaching. No coaxing. No reward in sight. Just plain old, "Mommy, I'm going to go poop on the toilet." Such a big girl moment. I tried to quell some of my exuberance for fear of jeapordizing the outcome. You see, we've been working at this for over a year now. And for those of you who have given me your best stuff for toilet training, only to have it fail on my dear girl (ie. sticker charts, princess dresses, good ol praise, the consequence of cleaning up her own mess and so on), this is a victory we all share. Then again, it probably had nothing to do with any of us. As Tim likes to remind me in good humour when the deed has been done (and not on the throne where it belongs), "Well, she won't be doing this when she's seventeen." True, dear. Very true. Thanks for the perspective.

So that shining moment lasted about five minutes before the next battle of the wills. (I always win those, by the way. And on my good days, I do it calmly too.) Ah, but then she went so willingly to her quiet time today.

Maybe that should have been my first clue.

At the end of the hour, when I would normally go up to her room to invite her back downstairs, I found her instead in the bathroom. Upon opening the door, it was clear that this is where she had spent most of the last hour. The toilet had become a display case for the contents of the first aid kit. Well, that and her body.




Sponge in hand, Maia was propped up on the shelf beside the sink and was purportedly 'cleaning the sink' with a concoction of polysporin and hand soap. Her legs were covered in, well, I'm not sure quite what, and she had applied the biggest bandages in the first aid kit to her legs.

Oh, and the attire! She had stripped down and adorned herself with a dancing outfit, followed by a bathing suit, followed by a t-shirt, followed by a second bathing suit. Do you know how hard it was for me to keep a straight face?



These moments of exploration and experimentation are happening far more frequently than they were at two when I expected them. (Didn't everyone else's kids roll out the entire roll of toilet paper on the floor and colour on the walls pre-three?) She is clearly in a new stage of wanting to experience and understand her world. Whic is great. I'll just need to keep a closer eye on my little scientist.

All in all, however, a great day. And worth grabbing a camera for it all.

And I haven't even mentioned this sweetie yet! Probably because she's not able to crawl or talk yet, so for now her adventure stories consist mainly of learning to sit up, transferring objects from one hand to the other and attempting to grab spoonfuls of squash en route to mouth at mealtimes.



As a friend wrote at the end of her Christmas letter today,

"May God pour blessings into your lives and may He grant you the time and wisdom to notice them!"

In this moment, I think I am clued in to what a rich blessing these girls are in our lives. Thank you, God, for the gift and for the awareness. I hope when Maia is 17 and our issues are bigger than toilet training and quiet time quandries, that he still grants me the time and wisdom to truly know what a gift she is, and to parent her as such.