I’m on the move with the Madame without a stroller anymore, which is a wonderful thing, and I’ve been looking forward to being able to do away with The Wheeled Thing for some time now. Ava Scarlett is quick and nimble – she’s a great little walker, and can go long distances without tiring too much now – but, with out having her seated in a push-chair, getting from places A to B is taking forever and a day sometimes more time than I like.
We’re doing a lot of this, you see: stopping to smell, and indeed pick the dandelions.
Every. One. We. See.
I’m finding my experience with this child much different than the last time I had a four-year-old, if only for the simple fact that I don’t also have a newborn to contend with, rendering mummy tired and cranky all the time. My schedule is less rigid, so we have time to stroll. To amble, even. I notice I’m not constantly corralling her along saying, “Let’s GO! Come ON! Put that DOWN! We don’t NEED another rock. We don’t NEED another leaf. LET’S GO!!!”
Sometimes we rush, but lots of times we just… take the time we need.
She’ll say, “Ooooooh… look at THESE beautiful ones! Let’s pick some for Jed. He loooooooves yellow flowers.” And indeed he does – she and her little friend have fought over them in the past, when the weed blossoms were few and far between. Now they’re everywhere, and she’s got a clutch of them in one of her little paws just about every day. She’s delighted to hand them out lovingly to everyone we meet on our walks. Her coat collar is spotted with saffron-coloured pollen.
When Oliver was four, you couldn’t pay me to have another kid over to play, most days. Come in here and make too much noise and too much mess? Oh, HELLS to the NO. I relished a quiet house in the afternoons while the baby napped. I’d try to catch a nap too. I’ve had the good fortune of having friends around me who happily took my son to their houses to play instead.
Now I feel a shift in balance. I’m less hurried and less harried than I was then. Now, I pay it forward. I can have my daughter’s friends over to play for while, which she loves more than anything in the world. They scamper and prance like tiny elephants. And, they can tear a room apart like nobody’s business. But they spill less juice than they used to… and they’re learning about napkins and white couches. All par for the course when you have Littles.
Even if playdates result in broken lamps:
Or broken bunk bed slats from two little monkeys jumping on the bed:
Besides, it ain’t really a party until something gets broken, right? *closes eyes and takes breath* It’s okay – it’s all good.
They laugh nervously when I threaten to put rioters into the meat grinder. It’s good for them to contemplate how crazy someone’s mother is – they take far less liberties that way. They won’t draw on your walls and couches, they don’t tend to open your fridge looking for things, and they never forget to say please and thank you. At least, not at my house. (Heh.)
I’ll also mention that a side effect to reading that damned Fifty Shades series is my recognition of how controlling I can be. I should learn to relax a little – they’re not babies anymore… there are ways in which some of this mutherhood stuff gets easier as they grow.
Le sigh. I guess I’ll pick the damned dandelions, then.
*wink*
HAHAHAHA! I very nearly choked on my ice cream sandwich, just now, and TEARS I have streaming I’m laughing so hard. Best. Comment. Ever. =D
Lawd, sistah. I KNOW!! Whatever… dawdling makes me crazy most days, so she should feel lucky to get to gadabout sometimes. Or something.
Sorry about your snow… that would make my palm twitchy. (Hee!) Send me email…
Trying to breathe, yes, but I confess ’tis infinitely easier with a glass of wine in one hand. *snort*
Teen land is crazy, I hear. I don’t envy… but thanks for thinking my messes are stylish. Please come here and help me… mellow. xox
You know (aside from the eyebrows permanently affixed to my hairline) I got the same message from Fifty Shades. It’s kind of scary, really. I have six tiny elephants in my house at any given time, and I’m usually pretty tolerant of messes/broken things/driving-me-out-of-my-everloving-mind. But when we’re out? We’re in a HURRY, and that can’t be good for them. At least not all the time. I guess there are a lot of dandelions in my future, too (IF the frickin’ SNOW ever melts) *grumbles*.
What is it with the 4 y.o. girls and dandelions? We have the same thing going on over here! Thanks for the reminder to *breathe*.
Even your messes are stylish, darling.
Oh how I remember the slow walks where everything was a wonder. What a treasure. xoxxo a little jealous over here in teen land