Last week was big for us. Really big.
Pickle continued to make respectable strides in potty training, stopping in the middle of play to run to the bathroom by herself, unassisted, which is huge considering, what two-year-old likes to pause at playtime? She did, however, have a few misses – one at school and two at home, but that’s not bad for a kid who basically decided to do this on her own. It was forward and onward with her big girl underpants, all the same.
She also had her first haircut! Since birth, we’ve never known what to do with her thin, wispy hair that turns into a rat’s nest every time she sleeps, so we decided to see if a cut would do something – anything! – to tame that wild mane of hers.
Aaaaaand it didn’t.
But she had a great time during the appointment since the salon also houses a sizeable indoor playground (how brilliant is that??!). On a freeze-your-arse-off winter day, that was a welcome respite for all of us. I mean, there are only so many pajama days we can have at home before we start poking our own (or worse, each other’s) eyeballs from boredom.
While we forge ahead with many milestones of firsts with Pickle, inevitably, we also have to face some lasts. On this very big week, Pickle was finally, fully weaned from breast milk. At 2.5 years, I felt it was time, especially since I knew her morning (and only) nursing session wasn’t from need of nourishment or attachment. Rather, it was out of habit – a Pavlovian response to seeing a still-slumbering mommy in the mornings. Wake up, find mommy sleeping in bed, climb in under the covers, time for milky!
But that process is a post for another day, as the biggest reason for our very big week deserves its own space.
The week culminated in our annual holiday party, where kids decorate sugar cookies (that my girls helped make), and this year, since my younger one is old enough to sit still for a little craft, we took it a little further and had them make ornaments (from a DIY kit that I purchased at the craft store because it was easier for the parents – read: me – to help as well).
We then wrote their names behind their artwork and trimmed the little tree that we put up in our family room / kids’ corner downstairs. Their very own Christmas tree filled with ornaments they made and ones that the guests brought as a memento of our time together this year. Another way to bring more magic and merriment to the holidays, so I figured, why not?
Our sweet little four-foot tree of big love and wee hands
As with most parties we host, I’m often running around, making sure everyone has what they need, so pictures of smiling faces and happy kids, especially my crazy, sugar-hyped girls, are scarce. It was a little chaotic, after all.
Come on, kids loaded with sugar? What other outcome could there be other than madness? But that’s exactly what my girls love—sugar, friends, crafts, and more sugar—and thus, a Christmas tradition was born.
But in the spirit of preservation, here’s the aftermath.
As we toasted to the holiday season, I suspect we were also celebrating the big week we had. Potty, haircut, weaning. Come to think of it, I am quite blown away by the seamless transitions we’ve gleefully, thankfully experienced from one stage to the next.
Perhaps it’s the birth order, as we have less dedicated time to focus on the developmental milestones of the second child when we’re constantly distracted, trying to keep up with two and prying their sticky, grubby hands off each other as they fight for the same toy. And perhaps it’s in Pickle’s nature to chart her own course that we only need to be there for her when she’s ready, rather than having to coax her.
Either way, it’s a wonderful thing.
Both My Guy and I fell onto our beds with relief at the departure of the last guests, but that was short lived when our girls started bouncing on us. Riiiiiight. Sugar.
I finally exhaled when the tiny tyrants were in bed and all was quiet in the house again. Under the glow of the Christmas tree lights, we snuggled on the couch after some cleaning, bone weary but heart happy. Then we stuffed our face with more cookies than we should and finished an opened bottle of wine from the party together.
For the week that we had, I can’t imagine ending it any other way.
* * *