Growing pains

An exhausting Easter Sunday prompts me to write this post.

    My daughter, who is one-year old, has always preferred her mother over many others for obvious reasons, of course. However, yesterday, actually the entire last week was the most intense my husband and I experienced with her. Incessant crying, even hating her dad, made for an angst-ridden, stressed out afternoon and evening for us (and probably for our family members, too). Feelings of frustration, embarrassment, then indifference, then back to frustration, embarrassment, and repeat... 

    Besides a nap and mommy carrying, what will remedy this situation from continuing to occur? Not necessarily remedy it, but at least lessen its intensity and frequency. She just will not go to any other person besides mom, dad, grandpa and granny! My husband and I are always brainstorming, thinking of strategies or things we should or shouldn't be doing to make her more comfortable around people. She has a bright personality and is a very mellow child... except for those times where we are with others who want to also enjoy her, but she just won't give them a chance. 

    An evening filled with conversation, questions, confusion, lack of answers, but she did sleep through the night -- probably so exhausted from the day's crying. 

Growing pains are pains for all; deep breaths even as I type. 

(Suggestions welcomed)

Flashback!

Easter weekend has definitely been hectic, so I am running a bit tardy on the "F" post for the A-Z challenge...but that is o-kay! Hope all of you had a spectacular weekend, even if you weren't celebrating Easter :)

Luckily, my late post is for the letter F is about events that took place on Friday... perfect for a Flashback!

Here is how Friday night went.

1. We prepared for an eggcellent Easter. Everyone's busy schedules were put aside for family time.

2. Coloring eggs is an annual tradition for us, but I learned that my sister-in-law never dyed eggs. 

She asked, "Can these still be eaten afterwards?"

Artists at work!

3. I had to "let go" and not be concerned about the mess factor. Messiness = Creativity?

4. Watching my nieces and nephew color eggs reminded me of when my sisters and I would do it religiously every single Easter. My sister always made an annual Humpty Dumpty egg. I always strived for the boldest colored egg by leaving it in the dye for most of the day. 

My daughter and my husband. (She was the cutest easter egg there!)

5. The adults sit around and share our gift of gab with one another. And we drink some festive libations.

6. Coloring eggs usually means work for the adults, but lasting memories for the kids, which makes it priceless.

The finished products.

E is for Eggcellent!

I am going to have to break the rules! I'll be "officially" posting my letter "E" this Friday because that's when all the little kiddies will be dyeing eggs at their Tutu's (grandma) house... 
Stay tuned...

Dad.

a man of few words
stoic yet gentle
clever, witty, humorous
never first, but always
last
always walking a step
behind
chivalrous, supportive
strength never to be surpassed

I always wonder how you do it, Dad.
Raising three girls to be strong, independent, respectful women.
Loving mom unconditionally, being patient with all of us as much as you can.
Mom says you never needed a son. I believe it wholeheartedly.
Every single day, including today, you live for us.
Forgiving, understanding, compassionate.
How can any other man in our lives emulate the man you are?

a man of few words
stoic yet gentle
clever, witty, humorous
never first, but always
last
always walking a step
behind
chivalrous, supportive
strength never to be surpassed

Dad.

Chaos resumes!

     The excitement in the air was contagious today! The only way I can properly describe it is with the word CHAOTIC. A good chaos, though. So many stories to be told and listened to as my seventh graders returned to school from their week-long spring break. My students even wanted to hear about my break! Normally, I would have them settle down and use homeroom time to get focused for their day, but they were so enthused to see one another that I knew that would be too much to ask. Ultimately causing me to be the only one frustrated. So we talked, all at one time, but of course that's how seventh graders communicate, so they didn't mind. I could barely keep my head on straight attempting to attentively listen to everyone's adventures or lack thereof, so I smiled, nodded, and replied, "That's awesome!" I knew I would have the opportunity to enjoy each student's stories throughout the week. We decided to share our spring break adventures through writing; a poem, a story, a skit, one student wanted to create a powerpoint presentation because he had all of his pictures from his spring break with him.
     Last night, I was dreading the high-pitched alarm clock waking me to face the dark morning light and having to drag myself to work while keeping my cool through traffic. Little did I know that as soon as I arrived on campus and saw a few of my students, my attitude went from pessimistic to optimistic! I was ecstatic to be back. A week without my students can be lonely. I miss their smiles, their struggles, and the amazingly silly things they say. It's good to be back. I'm a sucker for chaos.

B.F.F. = Binky Friends Forever

My one-year old daughter loves her pacifier, a.k.a. "Binky," so I thought I'd write a song on her behalf to this plastic miracle maker, in the style of "On Top of Spaghetti." Please sing along!

I love you, dear Binky,

All covered in spit,

You pacify crying,

I won't throw a fit. 

I try to hold onto

you as tight as I can, 

but my dear little Binky

has a different plan.

It falls on the floor

and into the dust,

Then my frantic mama

says washing's a must.

If she hadn't seen it,

It could have been mine,

My dear little Binky

with dust tastes just fine.

My mom doesn't know it,

But there's so much more,

my Binky has rolled in

besides dusty floors.

I love you, dear Binky,

my best friend indeed,

when my diaper needs changing,

you're all that I need.

About me