My daughter has an extremely active imagination. She always has. She began talking at a very young age, and so it feels to us that she’s always entertained us with stories and songs. When she was very young we played a sort of Baby Mad Libs game with her, where we told the bulk of a story, letting her fill in the details. As she’s grown older, she’s taken over the role of storyteller for herself, interrupting us more and more often to tell us how she thought a tale should be told, until finally the story became almost completely her own. These days, she spins elaborate tales about anything from her beloved toys’ adventures to fairy-kitty-princesses to her daddy’s co-workers and their various pets.

And naturally, as former English majors and general language enthusiasts (also: nerds), my husband and I are so thrilled that our daughter seems to have such an vibrant inner world. An inner world she loves to share through stories and songs and occasional interpretive dances.

Except. (You knew there had to be an “except,” didn’t you?)

Now she’s in school. For two hours a day. Two hours a day that she’s not in my presence, and, as I’ve mentioned here already, that’s really very hard for me. I…like to know  things. I ask a lot of questions to try to piece together a version of her school life for myself, because I’m nosy, sure, but also because I’m her mama and I desperately want my baby to be ok at school.

I want to know whether she’s interacting with her teachers and the other kids or if she’s sitting alone in a corner (telling stories to herself.) Is she respectful as we’ve taught her to be, or is she running rampant, poking other kids in the eye. (shudder. See what I do to myself?) I wish so much that I could be a fly on the wall, and I’ve cursed the fact that in this technological age classrooms aren’t automatically equipped with webcams so the parents can see the kids and put their own childhood-baggage-based fears to rest. (I mean really. Is it too much to ask? Consider my feelings, School. Privacy laws schmivacy laws.)

So I ask a lot of questions. I can’t help it. I’ve tried to rein it in, I have. And I’m fairly successful…but even at 65% intensity, there are still a LOT of questions being fired her way (gently, subtly, nonchalantly, LOVINGLY, of course.) And this is where the same story telling skills I’ve enjoyed and celebrated so much come back to haunt me…because as far as I know, my daughter attends school with one thousand other kids (in her classroom alone), hangs upside down on the jungle gym in the mornings (she’s usually afraid to even go near a ladder), walks to the library every single day by herself (where there’s only one lonely book on a really big shelf), and has access to a caterpillar playground, complete with leaves to eat, a cocoon to crawl inside of, and wings to wear when you become a butterfly (and are flying around on the swings.)

I go back and forth between annoyance at being thwarted and admiration for her attention to detail. And actually, I kind of hope that last part about the butterflies is true. 

Posted by Shannon, a Dot-arilla Blogger

Well, it’s officially here. Autumn. My very favorite season. I love the chill in the air and the beautiful leaves. I love scarves and hats and sweaters. I love cozy dim evenings and cool frosty mornings. 

And, of course, I love the food. Autumn food—the beginning of comfort food season. After a Summer of fresh cool veggies and outside cooking, I’m ready to retreat to my kitchen. I crave the scents and flavors of breads in the oven and soups bubbling on the stove, and I don’t usually wait long to dive straight in to soup season.

However, with little ones in the house, soup can be a tricky meal to serve—it can be piping hot, and tough for kiddos to keep on the spoon. But both my husband and I are major soup fans and leaving it off the menu would be a hardship, so I’ve come up with a few tricks…

When I serve soup to my kids, I toss a handful of frozen veggies into their servings—this brings the temperature down in their bowls while adding some extra veggies. My daughter loves selecting her “add-in” vegetables, and eats them happily—especially when she’s the one who chooses them. If your child is vegetable-adverse, you can freeze cubes of pureed veg and pop one into the bowl—it will disappear into the broth, cool the soup, and add way more vitamins than a plain old ice cube. 

My one-year-old son loves nothing more than to feed himself, which usually ends up in some pretty epic messes…but we reach a whole new level when I serve him soup. There is just no way he’s going to keep broth on his spoon, but I really want him to consume the (yummy) nutrients it holds. Enter my secret weapon: couscous.

I simply pour his serving of soup into his bowl five minutes before mealtime, stir in a tablespoon or two of dry couscous, and cover it until we’re ready to eat. The couscous soaks up the delicious broth, and all I have to do is give it a quick stir to fluff it up before I serve it to him. Simple, delicious, toddler-friendly soup!

Mmmmm. I’m thinking some good old chicken noodle soup is in order very soon. Welcome, Autumn!

Posted by Shannon, a Dot-arilla Blogger

Now that my daughter’s in school every morning, my 14-month-old (Sully) and I have suddenly found ourselves with some time alone, just the two of us. For me, this has been a major perk of sending my oldest off to [Pre]Kindergarten.

Save a few evening or weekend hours here and there, Sully and I haven’t had much time to ourselves. I’ve always felt a bit guilty about that—his sister had an entire three years of my full attention—but I suppose that’s just the way of things for second (and third, and fourth…) children. They come into the world sharing.

There are benefits to that, to be sure—he’s already got a built-in playmate, and he’s already well on his way to understanding the intricacies of the sharing process. He’s constantly attempting things his sister hadn’t even dreamed of at his age, all because he’s got an example, someone to look up to.

But still. There’s something to be said for some quality one-on-one time for each kid. I do think it’s very important—ideally they’d each get a bit of my (and my husband’s) undivided attention each day—I just…haven’t been very good at implementing that. I let life get in the way, I suppose, just rolling along until I wake up one day and my oldest is in school and my youngest and I are in a room together, alone, staring at each other.

Alright, so it’s not been that dramatic, exactly. But we have had a bit of an adjustment period. Sully still spends some time each morning looking for his sister, repeating her name in a rather (adorably) confused sort of way. We’re quickly settling in, however. Finding our own routine, just as his sister and I did when she was small. We’re getting to know each other in a new way…and making up for lost time, I think.

Let me tell you though: you should hear the squeals when he spies his sister heading toward our car after school. I may be his mama, but I think she’s his very favorite.

Posted by Shannon, a Dot-arilla Blogger

As you may remember, my daughter started school this year. She now spends her weekday mornings as one of thirteen 4-year-olds in a 4K (pre-kindergarten in our school district) classroom.

So far, her transition overall has been a smooth one—which is fortunate because it could have so easily been traumatic for her (um…and for me): this is the first school-type situation she’s ever been in. No daycare. No preschool. Just she and I, always together, for four (mostly blissful) years.

Yeah. (sniffle)

Happily, she seems to be adjusting pretty quickly to our new routine, and we’ve even begun to see some changes in her at home already. She’s doing things for herself without batting an eye, she’s jumping up to be helpful (practically) without being asked. She’s even <gasp> sharing with her brother. Nicely! And it’s usually her idea!!

I take this all to mean that she was ready for this new step. Ready for a bit of independence. For something that is all hers. That she’s reveling in her new discoveries and skills and adventures…and it’s a beautiful thing to witness!

Still.

A little part of me aches a bit when I notice her skipping into the school building or gleefully telling her daddy all about the newest BIG THING she learned that day. I’m used to witnessing all the wonderful things she encounters in her days. I knew all the reasons she skipped along, and I usually helped her tell her daddy all about our exciting days.

I’m not used to being on the outside, and I’m having to hold myself back from firing too many questions (in a good-intentioned, excited mama way) at her the moment she climbs into our car after school. I’m fumbling a bit trying to find my new role in her life—still as her mama, sure, but with a bit looser grasp than in the past. My instinct is to pull her closer. To inquire about every single moment she spent away from me. To attempt to fill in that giant blank place in my mind which used to be occupied with knowledge of “How My Daughter Spent Her Morning.”

It’s tough, this mama gig. I knew from the moment she was born that I’d eventually be sending her off into the world. That I’d have to stand back and watch my beautiful girl find her own voice, her own way. I just never dreamed that process would begin so soon.

Or that I’d be so incredibly proud.

Posted by Shannon, a Dot-arilla Blogger

You guys: my kid starts school this year. I said MY KID STARTS SCHOOL THIS YEAR!!!!

I’m going to skip right past the part where I whine and cry and carry-on about how my girl’s growing up and how my poor mama-heart is breaking and how I’m freaking out because I’m suddenly dead-certain that I’ve done absolutely the wrong things during the past four years to prepare her for school—she has absolutely no idea how to tie a shoe for example, nor has she ever encountered a wall-mounted pencil sharpener. Yep, I’m going to skip all that because I have something much more important to discuss:

School. Shopping.

I LOVE school shopping. There. I said it. When I was young (and then still when I was not-so-young), I really looked forward to (nerd alert!) school starting each year. For me, the start of the school year was like the true New Year—it just felt so promising, like anything could happen. Almost… (super nerd alert!) magical.

I am the person that Back-to-School commercials are written for. I eat it up. When stores start breaking out their Back-to-School signage, and stacks of paper and sparkling displays of brand new pens (!) begin spilling into the aisles, I get a little shiver. Yes. Still.

I have many, many stock reasons for needing another notebook, and I can come up with a project requiring a brand new Sharpie marker on the spot if my husband intercepts me slipping school supplies into our cart.

However, since I’ve been out of school, I also feel a wistful little pang whenever I see those beautiful displays of school supplies. My time has passed. I no longer have a (legitimate) reason to buy a brand-new protractor or a 10-pack of pretty folders each fall. <sigh.>

But! This year all that changed because this year a very special piece of paper arrived in our mailbox. This year, we have a school supply list! A list! Of supplies! That we HAVE to get! From the Back-to-School section!!!

My daughter and I set a date, made a plan, and, clutching my her precious list in my hand, we headed out to the store. (Tra-la!)

Of course, she’s only 4, and she’ll be attending half-days in a pre-kindergarten classroom, so our list was mostly comprised of things like paper plates and Dixie cups (to share with the other students), but she did get to pick out a back pack and a special folder.

And I don’t think I need to tell you that we also came home with some new pencils and glue sticks (And a notebook! Everyone needs a notebook!) to play with at home. We were school shopping, after all. For the first time! I had a precedent to set, and of course, my nerd status to consider.

She’s been carefully filling up her new notebook ever since…I think she gets it.

Posted by Shannon, a Dot-arilla Blogger

A few days ago, while riding in the car, my daughter suddenly pipes up from the back seat:

“Mama! We should make a band! We’ll call ourselves ‘Stop Sign Heads!’”

She’ll be doing the singing and playing the guitar. Her brother’s on maracas.

Apparently, I get to play the wooden spoon and plastic bucket.

Posted by Shannon, a Dot-arilla Blogger

One afternoon, while I was attempting to put my son down for his nap, my daughter came bursting into the room. Naturally, I was annoyed that she was interrupting the baby’s lullaby, but something in her tone made me hold my tongue, and I’m so glad I did…because what happened next was nothing less than magical.

She was talking so quickly that I couldn’t understand the words tumbling out of her mouth, but I could tell that whatever she was trying to tell me, it was big. And exciting! EXCITING!

Eventually, I was able to help her calm herself enough to deliver her message: “Mama! I can read Sully’s [her brother’s] beach ball book! And I just did! I read it! With the real words! I! READ! ALL! THE! WORDS!”

Now, I knew full well that my just-turned four-year-old hadn’t actually read a book. I knew she’d flipped the pages and recited the words she’d memorized from hearing them over and over again. I also knew she’d been doing that since she was two, and this was not a new skill…But. Something was different. I decided her brother’s nap could wait a bit and we followed her back into the family room to listen to her “read.”

Something has shifted for my daughter. She’s got a new understanding. As I sat and watched her read the book in her hands (all while looking at me rather than the pages), I saw such pride in her eyes. Total belief in her skills. Whether she’s begun connecting the idea that the letters and words she sees around her actually hold stories, or if she’s simply beginning to truly grasp that one day she will learn how to read for herself, I’m not sure. The difference in her perspective could be anything. But I do know that as far as she’s concerned, she can read–only that one book, but she can read!

 And really, after witnessing her absolute confidence in herself as she recited that book to me…I was inclined to agree.

“Yes! I heard you read, Sweetie! You read all the words!”

 The baby never did nap that day…we were too busy listening to stories.

This past Spring, our family bought a share in our local CSA farm, and each week this Summer we’ve been enjoying a box of fresh veggies grown for us at “our farm.” Along with yummy organic vegetables and berries, our share allows us access to various extras like fresh eggs from free-range chickens and wool from the resident sheep.

Our very favorite membership perks so far are the giant jars of golden honey we’ve received, made by bees that live right on the farm. We go through a lot of honey at our house, so I was very excited when we had our first taste of “farm honey” and discovered it to be beyond delicious. I went on (at length, knowing me) raving about how special it was that we are able to enjoy honey from the bees who collected nectar from, and pollinated, the very plants we’ve been enjoying our vegetables from.

Apparently, my enthusiasm was contagious (and a bit misleading) because now my daughter regularly asks whether the honey she’s eating is “Bee Honey” or “Store Honey.”

 Posted by Shannon, a Dot-arilla Blogger

Our family spent this past weekend at my parents’ house, and when we arrived, their grammy had a very special surprise for our kids…a monarch caterpillar in an aquarium! Eva (my daughter) spent the weekend carefully feeding the caterpillar fresh milkweed leaves, and checking regularly to see whether it was eating or not. She gave it a name (Crocodile Flower), and we got to take the baby caterpillar home with us to observe.

Right now, Crocodile Flower is only a teeny tiny caterpillar, but as long as we take good care of her, and offer plenty of fresh milkweed, we’ll be able to watch as she grows and grows and then creates her chrysalis. In about three weeks or so, Eva and I will be able release our beautiful monarch butterfly into the wild.

The other day, she and I were discussing a veterinarian office we’d seen, and she asked me whether the animal doctor took care of caterpillars too. I told her I didn’t know, but that I thought most vets cared for pets like dogs and cats and bunnies and things. Eva thought for a minute, and then she announced “I am going to be a caterpillar doctor when I grow up.”

A noble profession, indeed.

Posted by Shannon, a Dot-arilla Blogger

We braced ourselves for some major “new baby’ fallout when our second child was born. For three years we’d been a threesome—just myself, my husband, and our daughter. She was, most certainly, the center of our worlds, and we were convinced we’d have a long hard adjustment period ahead of us as soon as she realized that our new cute little baby boy was actually going to live with us. Forever.

But then we brought him home, and things were…pleasant! Sure she had some moments of regression, and there were definitely days when she needed a little extra reassurance that we still loved her just as much as we always had. But for the most part, our girl seemed to accept her new brother—in fact, oftentimes she even seemed happy he was around.

And then he learned to walk. A lot. Very quickly.

Suddenly, our daughter’s world was turned upside down (often literally!) as her brother discovered entire new spaces he’d never been aware of before. I spent so much of my day chasing him around—many times having to leave my daughter mid-story, mid-game, or even mid-sentence to save my son from certain death (or at least from certain injury.)

One day, about a month ago, she hit her limit. Our daughter had taken all she was going to take, and she let us know it by screaming, at the top of her lungs, for a very long time. This was extremely out of character for her, and we were caught completely off-guard. For weeks, we dealt with long, drawn-out, dramatic tantrums—sometimes many times per day—while I frantically scoured parenting websites and brought home armloads of books from the library: searching, searching for the answer. Trying desperately to help her feel better.

We explored dietary causes and environmental triggers. I read about developmental changes in almost-four-year-olds. We wracked our brains for anything that had changed in her life that could have possibly brought on such dramatic tantrums practically overnight.

And then finally, FINALLY I realized that her tantrums coincided perfectly with her brother’s learning to walk. As he grew more mobile, she grew more anxious. As he watched his world grow, she was watching her own spin out of control. He was into everything—messing with her stuff, knocking things over—and, worst of all, taking up so much more of our time. No wonder she was screaming. I would have been too. Here, finally, was the fallout we’d been bracing for way-back-when…the adjustment period we’d long-since written off as Not Happening. It had arrived—ten months later, but it had arrived.

And so, we’ve launched into a campaign to help our daughter reclaim her security in our family. We’ve spent lots of extra time with her—our big girl—and focused on the  very special place she’ll always hold in our hearts and our lives. And slowly, slowly we’re seeing her security return. Little by little, we’ve begun to have more calm days than stormy ones.

Just the other night, she leaned over and told me her brother is her best friend…I think we’re going to be ok.

Posted by Shannon, a Dot-arilla Blogger