I Love You Because You're You - Virtual Book Club

Lydia and I are excited to participate in a virtual book club this month.  We could choose any David McPhail book and then create an activity inspired by the book.  I think it's a great way to encourage the kiddo to think about the theme of a book and what it means to her.

We chose to read this book:

It's such a beautiful book about unconditional love.  The mother always loves the baby fox no matter how she acts or how she feels.  Lydia and I have always lived this truth; Lydia would be in trouble, yet she would say, 'And you still love me.'  Cheeky monkey.  Of course, it's true.

We read the book and Lydia was inspired to make a dress...that is, whatever the book was, I think she would have been inspired to make a dress!  Now I can sew up a storm but I've never made a dress!  Luckily, google is my friend and I followed instructions (roughly and as well as my patience would allow) from Lana Tran's blog.  Here's Lydia in the dress we made - and apparently this was the pose because 'this is what princesses do'.

On one of the pages, the baby fox gives his mother a paper cut-out of a heart, then on the last page there's a heart too.  

Lydia did a great job helping to cut the heart out (with a lot of help!) and we tried hand sewing but she couldn't quite get the hang of it so I whipped the sewing machine out and Lydia was in charge of stuffing.    

We can't wait for the next time we can participate in the virtual book club!

You've made it to the end of the post, so here's a completely unrelated photo of baby boy.  He's 2 months old and doing wonderfully.

Life after death through the eyes of a three-year old

My mother-in-law, Jeanette, died on Monday morning.   I was at home with Lydia whilst Gary, his Dad and MIL's best friend, Linda, were at her side.  It has been a roller-coaster week; it began with us thinking she was going to be sent home and ended with her not coming home at all.  


I finally did talk to Lydia about her grandmother dying.  I talked to her on Saturday afternoon when we thought my mother-in-law was closer to the end than she was.  We were at the hospital and I wanted to prepare Lydia just in case she started seeing very upset adults around her.  I remember telling her that Grandma was dying, she was sick - different from a simple cold / broken arm type sick, and how sometimes bodies don't work and people die.  Her response was, 'Okay' and that was the end of that.


Gary, Gary's Dad and Linda stayed at the hospital that night.  When I got home and after Lydia's bath, we were sitting in the front room and I asked, 'Do you know what's going on with Grandma?' Lydia responded, 'Grandma's dying'.  I asked, 'Do you know why?'  Lydia said, 'Because her body's not working and she's hurting and she's dying.  And now she can dance and she'll be happy'.  I stopped for a moment, then I said, 'How do you know that?' and Lydia said, 'Because she likes to dance'.  I texted this conversation to Gary that night.  It really had a profound effect on everyone.  So much so that when my mother-in-law finally passed away early Monday morning, they repeated the story to the nurse and it made her cry.  I posted it on Facebook to my friends and many people have commented on how touching it was, or how it's helped them through their grief. 


Of course, I wonder if it's because kids are quite intuitive in situations of deep grief and loss.  Are there spiritual forces at work?  Is it just another example of pre-schooler thoughts jumping from one topic to another?  For whatever reason she said it, it's helped a lot of people thus far.  If you know my mother-in-law, it's even more special because she hasn't been able to walk for a long time.  Even when I met her she had difficulty walking long distances.  She became wheelchair-bound a few years ago.  By the end of her life, she was completely bed-ridden.  So you see, a comment about her dancing is not just appropriate in general about those facing death, but particularly poignant because of my mother-in-law's physical condition.  


There's a fascination about the end of someone's life, but who she was in that hospital bed was not who she was in life.  I didn't call her Mom very often.  Mainly because I can't say it without feeling like I have to put on a strange American accent.  She really was another Mum to me though.  When I first moved over here and couldn't work, she introduced me to sewing and quilting.  It filled my time and I felt more productive.  It really is how I found a passion for DIY and crafts.  Without her, I would never have thought pinterest was the best thing since sliced bread, or taken up scrapbooking, or sewn things for my friends and family.  Sure, I was creative in my own way, but I don't think I'm naturally creative.  I needed to learn creativity and I learned it from her.  She really introduced me to a whole new world of hobbies.  


My mother-in-law also helped me find my first job.  I was fresh out of college, didn't have any connections and I couldn't work until I got a work permit.  When I finally did get my work permit, I couldn't find a job.  I didn't know where to look or even what to apply for.  My mother-in-law helped me out and called her old boss to see if there were any jobs - the next day I was heading in for an interview and training.  


Today, we went out to the house with my father-in-law.  It was hard to walk into the house without her there.  I was slightly anxious during the car ride which surprised me seeing as I'd been all take-charge yesterday with the funeral arrangements.  Our first task was to clean out the sewing room as Gary's Dad wants to rearrange some of the furniture in the house pretty quickly.  Sewing was her passion and she hasn't been able to sew anything for a long time.  She found that terribly frustrating, to love something so much and not be able to do it.  It was hard for Gary's Dad because sewing became such a huge part of his life too; he was always thinking about projects, helping her choose things for her to make, picking out the threads she needed.


Finding what I love to do outside of work isn't the only thing she gave to me.  She welcomed me into the family and supported me and Gary in our life together.  She always wanted the best for us and always told me I was good for her son.  He's good for me too and I hope she knows I appreciate that.  In my old blog, I wrote that Gary's parents raised Gary to be a kind, stable, honest man.  I said he was a good husband and father and I know it comes from his upbringing.  I know she appreciated my comments because she thanked me for it.  I only wish I had said it more, and more directly to her.  When I had the opportunity to say goodbye to her at the hospital, I told her goodbye, that I loved her, and thank you.  Thank you for my life here, for my husband, for Lydia, for my new friends and family.  She has played an integral part in my life since I immigrated to the USA 12 years ago.


We will miss her dreadfully.  The hospital stay is still so fresh in our minds.  The last few months, even years, were difficult for her and us.  I know that after some time, we'll look back fondly at her life.  We had so many good times and memories together.  There were ups and downs, disagreements and disappointments, but she was always there for us.  She loved fully, lived well and shared freely.  She taught me how to show my love to my child and how to express my love to my friends and family.  Being a part of this family has given me an emotional stability that I didn't know I needed.   'I love you' were not words that came easily to me until I joined the Donnelly family.


I love you, Mom.

Talking to my pre-schooler about death

Lydia's paternal grandmother doesn't have much longer to live.  She's a strong-willed woman who has a sharp wit and a lot of love for her family.  It's strange to think that we won't have her in our life.  She and my father-in-law have been married for 45 years.  They are best friends and inseparable.  How do you deal with a loss like that?  My husband and father-in-law are dealing with immense emotional pain right now.  I have my own sense of grief and loss, but mine is so much more intertwined with how to best support my husband and my father-in-law. 

This is one of the few times that it's been clear to me that my mother-in-law is not just my husband's mother, but his mummy.  She's the one who taught him to love, who was there for him when he was upset, who helped him become the man he is today.  I don't often give her the credit she deserves, although I often remind myself that I'm lucky to have married into an emotionally stable family.  My husband has a calm, soothing temperament; I imagine it's part nature, part nurture, part choice.

So how do we tell Lydia that her grandmother is dying?  For me, death and suffering in all of its forms is an inevitable part of life.  I can pinpoint painful times in my life and how it has shaped who I am today.  Will this be something Lydia remembers when she grows up?  How will it affect her?  At this age, it's not really the death that has an impact, but how we deal with it and talk about it.  

Here are some tips I've found which will help me and Gary talk to Lydia:

• Be truthful 
• Stay calm and supportive to encourage any questions or emotions she might have
• Keep it brief and simple
• Avoid assumptions about how she might feel
• Answer questions - be honest if we don't know the answer
• Avoid saying things like, 'She went to sleep for a long time', 'She was sick and went to heaven', 'Only old people die'
• Address worries about separation and loss by reassuring her that we intend to be around for a long time to look after her, and there are others who will look after her if we do die
• Don't be surprised or confront her if she has an unemotional response or if she doesn't quite grasp the concept of death

If you have been through this, or remember dealing with death as a young child, let me know. I'm interested in hearing your experiences.

Helpful resources on how to talk to a three-year old about death:

http://www.hospicenet.org/html/talking.html

http://www.babycenter.com/0_how-to-talk-to-your-preschooler-about-death_65688.bc

http://strathmor.blogspot.com/2008/11/talkingbeing-with-three-year-old-about.html

Lydia-isms!

Lydia said she was going to tell me a story, the 'legend of pink foot'.... I said, 'Do you mean big foot?' She said, 'No, pink foot!' Bahaha. All she could really tell me was that he lived in the woods!


Lydia had DVD boxes on her arms yesterday and was calling them shields. Today, she had another box on her arm so I asked her, 'What's that?' Lydia replied, 'A box'.


Baa baa black sheep have you any wool, yes sir yes sir three bags full. One for the monster, one for the (indecipherable word) one for the little girl who (more indecipherable words).

The Legend of Pinkfoot

I didn't realise I'd have to apologise to my daughter the other night.  She told me she had a story to tell me, the legend of Pinkfoot.  She told me Pinkfoot lived in the woods and it was spooky!  I can tell you now, I spent a good five minutes telling her it was Bigfoot and how he looked somewhat like a gorilla (and he wasn't scary at all)!  I asked her who told her about Bigfoot as I was rather perturbed that someone would be so irresponsible as to scare my child with a chimera-type urban legend.  Lydia told me it was Daisy from the Bubble Guppies.  This sparked me into action as I thoroughly researched (aka 'googled') this outrageous Bubble Guppy who would be so bold as to scare pre-schoolers to death.  I found a rather cute video of, yes, the infamous (at least amongst pre-schoolers) Bubble Guppies sitting around a campfire, toasting smores, telling a spooky story about the legend of PINKfoot.  I then spent another five minutes trying to convince Lydia that she had been right after all, except every time I said, 'You were right, it was Pinkfoot'  she would look at me thoughtfully and say, 'No, BIGfoot'.  Sigh.

Here's Lydia with her first somewhat successful attempt at using chopsticks.  She was at a disadvantage as she was trying to pick up noodles.  HA!  If I had been more thoughtful, I would've made something she could just stab and pop in her mouth! 


Lydia and I stayed at home on President's day.  It was a much-needed day after working all weekend, especially as I had about five loads of laundry!  I also really wanted to spend the day with Lydia.  We painted, pedaled around the neighborhood, talked about how we live on Earth and how Mercury is far too hot (she's been talking about planets lately, can't you tell?).  Then I spent the afternoon trying to get her to take a nap.  


I turned on the telly expecting her to be completely bored and to fall asleep except she was as riveted by Hoarders: Buried Alive as I was!  I found myself completely fascinated with these people whose houses are full from floor to ceiling with stuff.  Then I looked around my own house; the dining room table has been in the living room for a month, the floors in the dining room are *almost* finished, and there are toys everywhere!  We've got to get this house in order!

Small miracles

I was working late the other night.  By the time I got home, Lydia was in bed but she was still awake.  I went in to talk to her before she fell asleep.  She told me all about her day - the yoghurt she ate, the dinner she ate and the fact that I was at work.  We then played one of her favourite games.  


Lydia:  I didn't eat apple
Me: I didn't eat orange
Some other random food and animals...
Lydia: I didn't eat pillow
Me: I didn't eat carpet
Lydia: I didn't eat tissue


At this point, she cracked up laughing.  That throaty, cackly, the funniest thing in the world kind of laugh.  It was beautiful!


We played a little longer.  At this point EVERYTHING was funny.  It was perfect and I looked at her and saw a little miracle.  Best feeling ever.