Partly to Mostly Sunny

My daughter is a "sunny" child. Happy, easy-going, eager to please. At 3, she already has a sense of humor, and her enthusiasm regarding just about everything makes her so much fun to be around. She randomly bestows kisses, loves to snuggle, and has one of those sweet grins that just makes you want to melt.

But sometimes, the clouds roll in. And when the dark clouds cover up the sun in Lauren's world, you better watch out.

About a month ago, I had woken up early to get started on Lauren's birthday cake. A true labor of love because Betty Crocker I am not. So I'm slaving away in the kitchen when I hear Lauren coming down the stairs. I go over to the stairs to greet her, and she sneers, "Go away. I don't want you." Uh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Often when we're driving, we play what I'll call the "I love you" game. I say "I love you Lauren Looby Lu," or some other silly name, and she responds with "I love you" and a silly name for me. So we're driving home from her swimming lesson last week and I start the game. "I don't want to play that game," she says with a pout, while chomping on a pretzel. I guess I should have known her priority would be food, not indulging Mom in some goofy game.

Usually the dark clouds come out of nowhere and then retreat quickly, just like a summer thunderstorm. However, other children sometimes bring on the stormy weather. We recently had a park incident that ensured no future friendship with a particular little boy. I had one eye on Lauren and one on Alex's soccer game. After a few minutes on the playground, she comes running back to me, claiming a little boy hit her. I didn't actually see it happen, but she does not usually lie, so I suggested she tell him hitting is not nice, and then go play on another part of the playground. She runs back over and when I check on her a minute later, I see her talking sternly to the kid, shaking her finger in his face. Oy. I'm glad she stood up for herself, but the finger-shaking was a little much ...

Lauren's generally "sunny" disposition makes it easier to get through the "stormy" days. It's hard to get angry at a kid who alternately sings "Tomorrow" (from Annie) and "Squirrels in My Pants" (from Phineas and Ferb) while wearing a princess dress and mismatched high heels. I know things may cloud over more often during the tween and teenage years. Until then, I'll just don my shades and enjoy the sun.

Mud vs. Fun

So I went camping over the Memorial Day weekend. For one night, in a cabin. YES, that is still camping. I don't care what anyone else thinks.

I was, uh, ambivalent about the trip (does camping even count as a trip?). I appreciate being outdoors, yada, yada, yada, but I need a hotel room or my own bed at night. Not to mention a bathroom with a tile floor (linoleum would suffice) that I can access without going outside.

Alex and Brian camped for four nights, and Lauren joined them for two nights. They all had a great time. I learned my little princess is not as "princess-y" as I thought. Take exhibit A:

While wading through a little creek behind our cabin, her shoes got stuck in the muck and she fell down. Surprisingly, she didn't mind a bit. I think she might have wanted to play in the water if she had not been literally stuck. Instead of rushing to help her out, I took advantage of a prime photo-taking opportunity. Fortunately Alex came to the rescue:

Exhibit B also involves water. Murky, muddy water:

My little Bo Derek wannabe was like a pig in slop at the beach. I cringed anytime she splashed water in her face. I know the ocean is just as dirty but, well, it's the ocean.

My son fancies himself an experienced camper. But do true campers bring this amenity?

Yes, that's a microwave. I also doubt many--if any--campers request an emergency box of this:

Matzo. Alex loves it. He was a little disappointed when I told him it would not work for mountain pies.

So my final verdict on the weekend? Sorta gross, but lots of fun. My kids had such a great time playing with their cousins, and I enjoyed watching them.

There was baseball:

Lots of eating:

And lots of cuteness:

Oops, wrong picture (yes, I'm actually smiling in the yucky shower).

There we go. Yes, lots of cuteness. I'd go camping again. Okay, I said it. Good thing there are only a few people who read my blog and can thus hold me accountable ...

Girly Girl

I don't remember playing much with dolls. I know I had them, because I DO remember chewing their hair (okay, commence gagging--but don't most kids have some gross thing that they do?). I know I had a Cabbage Patch Kid I loved so much I didn't eat her hair, but other than that, I just remember reading a lot as a kid. One other childhood memory that sticks out is marching around the block with a parade of girls behind me (okay, it might have been just one girl, but please let me have my fantasy), yelling "Whatever boys can do, girls can do better." I was probably around 9 at the time.

That was sort of a convoluted way of bringing me to the subject of this post--my incredibly girly daughter, who loves everything pink and purple and princess-y AND believes domestic chores are reserved for women. A few days ago, she saw a photograph of her brother using a broom. "WHAT is Alex doing?" she asked her Mimi. "Well, he's sweeping," Mimi said. "Boys don't sweep," Lauren declared. Mimi immediately set her straight, but I'm afraid she still believes housework is women's work.

But why? Are Disney princess movies to blame? In our house, she is just as likely to see her dad using the vacuum as her mom. I'm usually the one preparing dinner, but Brian sets the table, gets drinks for the kids, et cetera, et cetera.

I distinctly remember the day back in October when Lauren uttered the words I had been dreading: "Mommy, I want to dress like a princess." Okay, I wasn't REALLY dreading those words, but I knew that declaration would steer us down a path with lip gloss and frou-frou at every turn.

And I was right. Lauren has turned into a true girly girl, something I never was. She got a vanity table for her birthday and could sit there and primp forever. My mom would say she got that from me (hi Mom!), but I would not call myself a primper. I just take a long time to get ready. There's a difference, right? RIGHT?

She wants to wear dresses all the time. When we are home, she is usually in princess attire. She loves anything and everything about the Disney princesses and likes to call herself Belle (from Beauty and the Beast). She often corrects me when I have the audacity to address her as Lauren. "I'm not Lauren; I'm Belle," she says, and then refuses to do whatever I asked until I call her Belle. At least Belle is a little more obedient than Zia.

Then there are the "jewels." She prefers to be dripping in them. I had no idea how much pastel-colored plastic could adorn one child. I do think it's cute, though, that she is exhibiting her own sense of style.

Lauren chooses dolls and other "girl" toys over the cars and trucks in abundance at our house. She has strong feelings about her dolls' attire--she prefers they wear nothing. To the uninitiated observer, it would appear there is a naked Disney princess orgy going on at our place. She DOES actually play with them, though--in appropriate ways. It's pretty cute to hear her running commentary directing Belle to do this and Snow White to do that.

I know many--dare I say most?--little girls go through a "girly" phase. But some don't, and I really wonder why. I have found it's virtually impossible to prevent little girls' exposure to "princess-y" things. I'm pretty sure Lauren learned about the Disney princesses at day care. Which was fine--the introduction was bound to happen eventually, unless I kept her in a bubble. And there ARE good messages at the end of all the Disney princess movies--you just have to observe some stereotypical gender roles to get there.

For now, I'm just going with it--and, I will admit, enjoying it, as long as Lauren understands men are allowed to use a darn broom (or vacuum, or dust cloth, or dish towel ...). As I wrote in a previous post, it's fun to have a little girl who gets excited about dressing up and painting her nails and wearing jewelry ...

... and shopping. When I tell Lauren we're going to Target, she usually responds with "I love Target." Swoon ...

The Princess Posse

Lauren has a posse--of imaginary friends. Her good buddy Zia has been fodder for many a Facebook status update, and was actually one of the reasons I started this blog. Then there's Emily, who is often the victim of Zia's antics. I consider her the meek one. Other posse members come and go, including Emilena and various Disney princesses. I have no idea where Lauren got the name Zia (alternately pronounced Zee-ah and Zi-ah). I suspect Emilena is a combination of Emily (obviously) and Alayna, the name of one of Lauren's cousins.

Zia is definitely the "mean girl" of the group. She bites, she steals toys, she's generally disruptive. Lauren blames her for everything, from minor mishaps (spilling a drink) to actual misbehavior (throwing a toy). Before Lauren was completely potty-trained, she also used to blame her for potty problems. "Mommy, Zia pooped in her pants [actually Lauren's pants], and I'm NOT happy," she once informed me. Fortunately both Lauren and Zia now make their deposits where they belong.

Zia was causing LOTS of trouble in our house during the winter. Then her behavior began improving, and I did not see (well, hear, to be more accurate) much of her. She has been hanging around a lot again, though. She always seems to be biting Emily's finger. Now can someone tell me how you discipline an imaginary child who is hurting another imaginary child? (fortunately Lauren has not actually been biting--perhaps she is living vicariously through Zia?)

One recent afternoon, Lauren helped Zia and Emily into the car before climbing in herself. I had to clear off the front passenger seat to make room for Zia. That meant I had several bags at my feet when I was trying to drive. After a few minutes, I tried to sneak a bag onto the front passenger seat. "Mommy, you put your bag on Zia," Lauren said. I tried to convince her that Zia agreed to hold my bag. "No, Mommy, she did not. You're making her very upset."

So I removed the bag. I couldn't have an angry imaginary friend who was prone to biting under normal circumstances.

When I first started posting my status updates about Zia, some people asked me how I felt about Lauren having an imaginary friend. It was almost like they thought it was a bad thing. While it is a little frustrating at times, how can I be upset about something that demonstrates my child's creativity and spunk, not to mention imagination? Have you ever met a dull kid with imaginary friends? I didn't think so.

I don't know how long the posse will stick around, but I think I'll be sad when the girls are gone. Zia's behavior is not always ideal, but she's pretty entertaining. And the playdates are awfully easy to organize.

Love Is in the Air

I have so many things to write about, but those longer posts will have to wait a bit until I recover from my princess's third birthday party.

I don't want to leave my hordes of followers hanging for too long :), so I'll tell a quick story about my sweet son's burgeoning love life. I already wrote about his new hairstyle. Well, it seems that his newfound interest in his looks has to do with a new girl in his life. With the hair, I honestly believed he just wanted a haircut that would be cooler--temperature wise, not style wise. But two days after he got his hair cut, he asked to wear khakis and a button-down shirt to school instead of his typical jeans and polo. Considering he used to complain about wearing a shirt with a collar, I knew something was up.

The same day he got dressed up, he wanted to take a trinket from home to show his (girl)friend. I think we're lucky he brought it home! That evening, I asked him what was going on between him and H. "I don't know," he said, with the world-weary wisdom of someone who has loved and lost. "So do you like each other?" I asked. "Yes, a lot," he said. "So you like HER a lot, or she likes YOU a lot?" "Both," he said.

Oy vey. I refrained from asking if she was pretty, and instead asked if she was smart. He said she was. I then rushed upstairs to look at his class picture. I can now confirm that she is pretty AND smart. I assume she is also nice, so our bases are covered.

For now. One strike and she's out. If she hurts him, this mama bear is going to show her claws.

He's Got the Look

My son got a haircut last night. Not really a big deal, except this cut requires ... "product." He has gorgeous hair--dark brown, thick and full of body. But of course it has been the bane of his existence. It makes him too hot, or his bangs on his forehead bother him, or he's just generally in a bad mood so he's going to blame it on his hair.

He recently decided he wants to wear it combed to the side, so he got it cut quite a bit shorter, and had it styled with gel and hairspray. I could tell he was quite taken with himself when the stylist turned him around to see the results. He DOES look quite handsome. I'm anxious to learn if any of his "friends who are girls" have anything to say about it (he seems to have quite the following, including a girl who has given him--gulp--a massage).

When we got home after his haircut, he disappeared upstairs for awhile and was suspiciously quiet. When I went upstairs later, I discovered he had displayed an array of hair products on his dresser--shampoo and conditioner, a water bottle, comb, gel he had stolen from his dad. In my bathroom, I discovered he had pulled a stool up to the closet so he could get the full bottle of gel that was on the top shelf. Obviously he is SERIOUS about his hair.

The next morning, he came downstairs still in his jammies, but his hair was already slicked back. And I mean SLICKED back. Don't know how much gel is left in that bottle. Before he left for the bus stop, he had to add some more hairspray. Like I said, he is SERIOUS about his hair.

During preschool, he would often go to school with bedhead--he didn't want us to comb it, and I tried to convince myself that look gave him "character." I was choosing my battles. It was really not until the past couple weeks that he expressed any interest in his hair. Last year I tried to get him to comb it to the side, but he would just pull his bangs straight down again.

I remember my brother was several years older when he started to care about his hair, probably age 10 or 11. Until then, he was a willing "client" when I wanted to play "hairdresser." Starting around age 10, though, he would lock himself in the bathroom for what seemed like hours (at least to my 13-year-old self) to fix his hair. It apparently was a frustrating task, because I clearly remember one morning when he threw a brush at the doorframe because his hair wouldn't "go right."

While I think my son's concerns about his hair are cute now, I'm afraid this is an ominous signal of things to come. Considering his "elementary angst," I'm going to prepare myself for some meltdowns related to his lovely locks. I'm also going to get ready to spend more on hair products. I might need to buy some stock in Suave.

The Birthday Post

I have read many bloggers' long, heartfelt posts written in honor of their children's birthdays. Reminisces about the day they were born, their first steps, their first day at school. Attempts at putting into words how much they love their children, how they could not imagine their lives without them. So I'm just going to cut to the chase: I love my daughter to pieces and cannot even contemplate a life without her in it. Okay, sappiness over.

My little lady is 3 today. Three going on 13. I'm sure many parents out there would agree that age 3 is much worse than 2. At 3, they are even more stubborn, and although you can reason with them, their tantrums are bigger and bolder. My daughter is also sassy with a capital S. The other day my mom told her she was cute. "No, Mimi, I'm not cute--I'm beautiful." Okaaay, then.

Three-year-olds' desire for independence is more challenging because they actually CAN do some of the things they want to do on their own--but it makes a mess, or is potentially dangerous, or takes FOREVER. It's hard to find a happy medium between encouraging their independence and taking over because you just don't have time to wait--or don't want to clean up after them. For example, my princess has started to climb up on the "big potty" on her own. I thought she had been doing pretty well, until I sat down on a wet toilet seat yesterday. My husband was quick to note it was not HIS fault.

Last week she was climbing into the car by herself. I was trying to be patient, even when she insisted that I turn around and not watch her climb in. I gave her 30 seconds, but when I turned around, she was in her brother's seat. I raised my voice, and she burst into tears. Hours later, she told my mom that I had yelled, but she admitted that she had not been listening. I hope she toughens up before I REALLY have to discipline her!

So 3-year-olds are challenging. But they are also loads of fun. My daughter and I have conversations now. They sometimes involve imaginary friends and Disney princesses, but that's okay. She likes girly things that I also enjoy--nail polish, jewelry, clothes. She primps in front of the mirror just like me. She even turns around so she can check out her back view, which is cute at this age (not so much for image-obsessed teenagers).

Of course, there is much more. Such as: "Mommy, will you snuggle with me?" "Mommy, I like your necklace." "Mommy, this book makes me SO happy." "I love you SO MUCH, Mommy." You get the picture.

My own picture would not be complete without my little princess. Happy 3rd birthday, baby girl.