Life with Stel

As Marian experiences a well-deserved break in Key West, I remain in the trenches of Life with Stel. This is a report from the front:

6:30 a.m. Stella awakes asking for milk. But milk isn't enough to get her to lie down and go back to sleep. She wants to get out of bed. I cajole her to play in her room quietly while I attempt a little more shut-eye. This works for about 12 seconds. So, last ditch effort, I give her the opportunity to lie in bed next to me and put her head on "mommy's pillow." This is quite an opportunity for her. I mean, "Mommy's pillow"! She is delighted, flops around quite a lot and seems intent on kicking a beat on the bed with her legs, preventing sleep on my part. But at some point she commences singing "if that diamond ring goes bye" and I manage to drift off -- for nearly 2 hours! This is an amazing development. Her dad will not soon forget this act of generosity on her part. How she never runs out of songs is beyond me.

8:30 a.m. On her way to the kitchen for apple juice, Stella can't help noticing something interesting outside. "Snow, Daddy! Wanna play outside!" We share a hearty breakfast of Cream of Wheat and trudge outside. Great fun, of course. And, as usual, right before reaching our home she starts to run and bites the dust. There were a lot of places she could have fallen in the soft, fluffy snow. But she managed to fall in the hard, unfluffy, road. "Are you beating your kid?" asks my neighbor, Dan, stepping out of his home. Sigh.

10:30 a.m. We head for Lake Junaluska where there is an Easter Egg hunt planned. The thermometer on my car says 24 degrees. If I were the Easter Bunny, I'd pretend I saw my shadow and go back in the ground for four more weeks, at least! But the kind folks at Junaluska go on with the show. The older kids (8 and older) are allowed to hunt eggs in the snow, while the little ones are ushered into rooms with eggs scattered all over the floor. Not much of a challenge to FIND the eggs, but the kids seem to appreciate product over process. There are opportunities to make crafts and decorate eggs, too. Stel seems a little bit intimidated by the crowds and refuses to hug the Easter Bunny.

When we arrive home, Stella asks for an icicle from our roof gutter. She loves the natural popsicle. This will be her undoing in the afternoon, as you shall see.

Noon. Lunch, a couple books, and Stella is OUT for the count till 3 p.m.! "Tire her out!" is my mantra for the next four days.

4:30 p.m. After an Elmo video, we go for a walk. She's upset that all the icicles from the roof gutter have melted and has me on the lookout for icicles elsewhere. I finally find a good one on a branch near one of the little streams in our neighborhood. She can't believe her luck! But she will not have mittens between her and the icicle. "Your hands are going to get cold," I warn. "Aren't your hands cold?" "No," she smiles, enjoying that icicle.

Ten minutes later she's crying. "Hands cold! Hands COLD!" She drops the icicle in the road and it SHATTERS, causing her to cry even harder. Her mittens are no solace - so I give her my giant gloves, which kind of cheer her up. She looks seriously deformed walking with those gloves flapping. Then she announces she needs her diaper changed, and begins crying at the discomfort -- then announces that she wants a "snack." "Goldfish! GOLDFISH!" she cries. There are too many simultaneous issues for me even to hope to resolve. I carry her home as fast as I can, and this kid is HEAVY. But we make it home and everyone is happy.

6 p.m. We eat a quick dinner and head for downtown for the opening of Women in Vision, an art exhibit at Gallery 86 featuring our friend Angela Blehm's paintings. I want my daughter to be inspired by creative women at an early age. Of course, when we enter the room she's immediately drawn to the snack plates people are carrying. "Want a snack," she says - even though we've had dinner already. I fill up her plate with cheese, crackers, half a cookie, and some other winning foods. Most of it ends up on the floor in time, but some of it makes it into her mouth - and some of that ACTUALLY GETS SWALLOWED rather than spit out on one of the benches people are expected to use to admire the art on the wall. I can't really study the paintings when I'm afraid my daughter will spit out her food on one, instantly earning me an art purchase I hadn't banked on.

6:30 p.m. We spend a half hour more on Main Street as Stella sings and dances like a Whirling Dirvish. This fits in nicely with the "tire her out" theme. Eventually her hands get cold and we head back to the car, to home, and evening routine, which is pretty straightforward.

8 p.m. and she's asleep again, until tomorrow...