Being One's Own...

The most common comment we've gotten recently about Bear is "She's soooo independent!" This being said as she is running away from us and running towards other people to say "hi" and show off her Sonja doll. Like today, we went to the mall and she just had to go through the red door (T@lbots). She even started waving to people who were trying to enter or leave the store probably hoping one of them would let her through. Earlier at brunch, the waitress came to take our order and Bear promptly pointed to the menu and told her "Meat...Wice(rice)."

What can I say? She definitely has her own opinions. As much as people tell me that it's a good thing, I find myself battling her day by day. "Do you want to wear the pink or the blue shirt today?" "NO BOO (Blue), NO PICK (Pink)...Dess(Dress- pointing into the closet)." "Eat your sandwich, Bear." "NO, EAT APO-DOS (applesauce)." My cousin even bought her this really cute purple fairy style skirt with wings, and Bear loves it, but she insists taking everything else off in order to wear them. So Bear runs around practically naked with a see-through skirt, a diaper and a pair of wings. So I've been trying to take a picture of her in her little outfit, so I can send it to my cousin, but uh...yeah.

As I've spent the greater part of my life trying to find and accept my own opinion, to avoid being so wishy-washy, it's such a weird concept to me that Bear is just so innately opinionated.

I would never want to squash her opinions, nor the charisma she has. I mean seriously, it took me almost 30 years before I could find my own voice. Although I do realize that my opinions were always there, I just never expressed them because I was just afraid of what people thought of me. So I guess it took me 30 years before I realized that no one really cares, and if they do, then well I shouldn't care. I am just trying to be my own.

And that is something that Bear has shown me well...It's important to just be your own...and not lose yourself to others. And it's important to appreciate others as they are. Otherwise, what's the point of God creating us each so differently?

The Fun Stage

I guess each stage of development has it's fun. Sometimes I find myself longing for those days when Bear would just sit there and I wouldn't have to run after her nor clean up her messes. Having a toddler is fun though...there's so much more we can do with her now.

The Beach - She played in the water, dug in the sand and amassed a collection of "smooshed" sandcrabs. Poor sandcrabs, never had a chance.



The Fair - We went to the County Fair and Bear really loved looking at all the farm animals. She just kept saying, "Mor Dow! (More Cow)" and would "Baa" at all the sheep. She also took a liking to roasted corn and fake snow (yes, one building had fake snow that she got to play with).

Facing Fears - Bear faced her fears this weekend and picked her very own avocado from a tree in a family friends' backyard.



She was so excited, she ran around the yard yelling "tado!" and then would throw the poor thing onto the concrete like it was a football.

So it's been fun with Bear these days...she enjoys all the activities just as much as we do.

Long Weekend...

I teetered back and forth about writing about this especially in such a semi-public way. But I concluded that as much as I'd like for this blog to be light-hearted and filled with Bear's silly little antics, it's also a place where I've been writing about the lessons I've learned as a parent.

As my mom said, we grew an extra layer of skin this past weekend. I'll spare you all the details mostly because I'm sparing myself some tears upon remembering each moment as it happened.

Bear came down with a fever this past weekend...it escalated to the point where she had a febrile seizure. Although I've read about it in books and even as a teacher who is supposed to be trained in dealing with instances of any kind of seizure, I just wasn't prepared. I never felt so at a loss in my life.

I appreciated the people who tended to her (nurses, doctors, paramedics), but I didn't appreciate their constant repetition of the same few phrases...This kind of thing happens all the time...We can't really do much because it's not that big of an emergency...Don't worry, she'll be fine. As much as someone tells you not to worry, it doesn't help...sometimes you just have to worry. Sometimes you just need to feel scared.

So after our brief stint in the hospital, Matt and I were carefully monitoring our sick little girl. I don't think either of us wanted to leave her side at any moment. Even she wouldn't let us leave her sight unless she knew where we were going. We spent the day at home half sleeping, half awake...constantly keeping one eye on Bear.

Monday morning she woke up with a smile, no fever, or any other sign of sickness. She grabbed her doll, her blanket, her cup of water and came to sit in the livingroom just like it was any other day, just as if nothing had ever happened.

Kids are so resilient. I wish I could say the same for myself.

(Bear is fine. We went to the pediatrician on Monday [a wonderful doctor who didn't say anything of the sort like the people at the hospital] and everything checked out fine. Her temperature was normal and there's no sign of an infection. She must have just caught a random virus and unfortunately has the genetic predisposition towards febrile seizures. She is once again her happy-go-lucky self...and possibly a bit more chatty).

The Cry from the Bathroom

Matt usually takes care of bathtime and bedtime. It's his time of day to spend with his little girl. These days I've been using bathtime as clean up time.

Tonight I was in the kitchen tidying up some dishes when I heard Bear start crying. I was a little concerned, but I thought, hmmm, she probably doesn't want to come out of the bath yet.

What actually happened: Matt informed me that Bear looked at her pruney hands, tried to wipe away the wrinkles, even tried to pick them off, and then started crying because they just wouldn't go away.

After her bath, she came running out to me holding out her hands and whimpering. She pointed to the pruney wrinkles and started tearing up. She ran over to the sink and said, "wsh hans(wash hands)" and started to cry again when I told her that it wouldn't help. So I hugged her and assured her that her hands would be okay once she dried off.

Poor kid. I hope this doesn't deter her from taking baths.

Wee!

Here's a conversation we had at a friend's house recently.

Bear: Wee wee!

Friend: Uh, Matt? Does Bear need to use the bathroom?

Matt: Why do you ask?

Friend: She's running around yelling "Wee wee!"

Matt: Oh, no. She's actually saying, "Wii wii." She wants to play the Wii.

Friend: Only your kid would have "Wee" refer to the "Wii."

Bear: Wii wii!