My Little Runaway

Twice in the past couple days Ingrid has given me a heart attack by disappearing.  Yesterday we were enjoying a lovely fall afternoon outside.  I had gotten the newest issue of The Mother and Ingrid was making stone soup for me to sniff and sip.  She'd go into the trees and grab some leaves and twigs, then come back to me and ask me what it needed.  We had been doing this for awhile when I made the stupid mistake of asking if it needed a pinecone in it.  She agreed it did, but then I said, oh no wait, we don't have any pine trees in our yard, so no pinecones. 

Ingrid wasn't going to let that stop her, however, so she decided to take off on her own, without telling me, to go find a pinecone.  I thought she'd just gone to the front yard, but when I went there she was nowhere to be found.  Sometimes she goes around the house, so I walked around, calling her name.  I heard her, but she wasn't anywhere near our house!  I went back to the front calling her name, and then I saw her.  A block away, across the parking lot of the church next door to us.  The church, which is on a busy street, has pine trees in front.  Holy shit, kid, get back here!!! 

I tried to explain to her how it was dangerous to go near the busy street, and that she's only supposed to leave the yard with mama or daddy.  But she's 2 1/2, does she get that???

Then today we were getting ready to leave the library.  We were still in the kid's area, and I stopped to look at a magazine.  In that span of two seconds I lost her.  She just took off, I had no idea to where.  Again, I look around, trying to stay calm, figuring she's nearby somewhere.  She wasn't anywhere in the kid's section so I went out to the adult section and there she is, by the door, pushing the button that operates the handicapped doors.  I said Ingrid!  Where were you going?  "Outside."  Like, duh mom.  You said we were leaving, I was leaving! 

Seriously, heart attacks.  I try not to freak out about things like this, because I tend to have faith that nothing bad will happen.  But then I think holy shit, how fast something terrible could happen!  Not even kidnapping so much but getting outside near busy streets and getting plowed over by any one of the terrible drivers around here...

I made the mistake of telling Brendan about yesterday and he freaked out on me.  He's a lot more cautious than I am, which I hate.  He's always yelling at her to stay out of the road even though she's nowhere near it.  It drives me nuts because I like to trust that she does know some things about safety.  But then something like her disappearing happens and I wonder if I give her too much freedom?  Like she just trusts that everything will be okay and she knows what she's doing so she doesn't get why mama is screaming for her when she's just looking for a pinecone.  Ahhh, kids.

I Do It Myself, Mama!

I love that Ingrid is little miss independent but man, it's testing my patience.  Especially at 5am, when she needs to go to the bathroom and is still sleep drunk and can't function, but refuses to admit it and allow me to help her...

That was this morning when she got me up to go to the bathroom.  I unzipped her footy pjs, pulled down her pull up and she climbed up on the seat.  Suddenly she realized that she wanted to unzip her pjs so she had a spectacular fit, jumping off the toilet, screaming she wanted to "do it myself, mama!!"  Ugh, seriously?  At 5am?  I tried explaining to her that she was already out of her pjs and I was not, in fact, going to let her put them back on only to take them off herself.  Not at 5am!!  She ended up screaming and crying until I put her pjs back on and ushered her back to bed, where she fell asleep for another couple hours.  Sigh.

Yesterday was a lot of  that--whatever I was doing she wanted to help.  I love that, I do, because I remember "helping" my mom do things around the house.  So when there's laundry to be folded, sure, help.  When I'm cutting things for my etsy shop and there are scraps, sure, go ahead and throw them away.  But if I'm making chili over a hot stove, no, you can't help. 

When I was cutting up peppers for said chili, I gave her a chunk of one and a butter knife and told her to go to town.  She then got frustrated she couldn't do it herself.  It's so hard because sometimes I do try to let her help with whatever she can, but then there are things she just isn't capable of and it makes her mad, but she won't NOT ask to help.  Does that make sense??  If I say  no, you can't do it, she gets mad.  If I say, sure, go ahead and try but then she can't do it, she gets mad.  I guess it's her problem not mine, right?  At least she's understanding her limits? 

Anyway, she's a great helper, she really does get a kick out of doing whatever it is I'm doing, and just lately she's started asking to sew with me.  I have so many ideas of little gifts for the holidays, like a kid sized broom, and those cardboard lacing cards.  But in the meantime, sometimes I just want to get stuff done.  In five minutes as opposed to an hour.  Patience, Amber, patience...

Stress Dreams

No matter how calm I feel on the outside about having another kid, and dealing with Brendan getting a job and having to move soon, it creeps up on me in strange ways.  Usually I have stress dreams.  While pregnant with Ingrid it involved working at the coffee shop where I met Brendan.  Somehow things were always dirty, orders were getting overlooked, customers were rude and I woke up in a cold sweat.

Last night I had two of these gems.  Both involved not knowing what to order from a menu at a restaurant, which I find amusing as I have never had that problem!  In one of the dreams everything on the menu was $40-60, so perhaps I'm worried about money??  And in the other I kept asking for my cup of coffee with two creams and they kept ignoring me.  I don't know what that was about...

I'm glad I'm able to let go of my worries through dreams, though.  Because in the daytime really I am pretty relaxed.  I daydream about our future and what it holds and what the possibilities are, but I don't really stress too much because I have no control over where we end up.  Frankly, neither does Brendan.  He can just go on interviews and do his best and whoever offers him a job will give us a new life.  How can you stress about that?  We have absolutely no control.  Instead of that worrying me, I just let it go and see where life takes us.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

I'm almost six months along now, can you believe it??  And just yesterday it finally hit me FOR REAL that we are going to have another baby.  It's been all in the hypothetical up until then.  Yes, someday we'll have a baby, someday these tiny diapers will be put on something other than a Cabbage Patch Kid.  And then yesterday I stood in front of the mirror and looked at my expanding belly and felt little kicks and rolls and it hit me--there is a baby in there!!

Ingrid and I went to Salvation Army and had a great time searching through the kid's clothes.  I found some amazing things for my friend Heather's etsy shop 3RingCircus, I got some new "cozy pants" for Ingrid, and I got a little tiny newborn outfit that has a moose on it, and the feet are tiny moose, too!  It's for bringing wee one home from the hospital.  Again, it hit me that we will go into the hospital with a big belly and come home with a wriggling newborn, amazing!

I have been pretty down lately about not knowing where we'll be going next, as Brendan looks for jobs.  We're not going to be in this apartment for too long, so I don't see the point in making it very homey.  And then I get depressed because there are no pictures hung or curtains or anything.  And I have boxes of stuff for when Otis comes but I can't do anything with them, no nesting at all, because we will either move before he gets here or right after.  It's frustrating.  But yesterday I got over it and decided that I should just do little things to make myself feel at home again, even if it's only for a few months.  So I'm making curtains for my kitchen today out of this cute lemon print fabric I've had on hand.  And I have a matching yellow rug I found in the basement.

I cleaned up the basement finally yesterday--what a chore!  Ingrid used to have her play room down there and then over the summer, because we didn't have a dehumidifier, we got mold.  After cleaning all that up, I just threw stuff down there, and every time I'd go do laundry it would bug me that I wasn't more organized.  And that we had about five lamps from old apartment dwellers that didn't work shoved under the stairs.  And that we got more toys for Ingrid and they were taking over my living room and I really really wanted a place for her to go play again.  SO...a little sweep and mop, throw out old lamps, move baby boxes under stairs, move furniture around, wash rug, and move toys downstairs again, and there you go.  A playroom again!

So things will change, as they always do, and I have to remind myself that I can roll with it, deal with it, it will all work out.  Some days I just want to be settled somewhere, to know we're going to be somewhere for awhile.  And others I realize we're still in the early stages of our marriage and family, and this is what we'll look back on and laugh at how young and carefree we were.  Someday.