Christmas Eve thoughts

Right now, I'm currently without my daughter on Christmas Eve. It's sad. I don't have cookies and milk out, although I know Santa will come. (The photo shown at the right was taken a few weeks ago.) 

Our Elf, Banjo, has already flown back to the North Pole until next year. L.'s presents are packed in a bag and about to be put into the car to be carted around tomorrow instead of under the tree.

This is the sucky side of Christmas for a child of divorce. SO much travel between all the houses of parents and grandparents and soon-to-be step-grandparents.

But, instead of the few paragraphs I wrote then deleted complaining about how much divorce is affecting our plans tomorrow and how inconvenient all the traveling will be for L., I'm just going to count my blessings instead of sheep tonight because even Santa Supermom has her nights of the "Bah! Humbugs!" But that doesn't stop tomorrow from coming, as the Grinch learned. And it won't stop Christmas from being magical for L., as well as all those who love her. And that's the most important part of Christmas.

Happy Holidays to all!

Day 3: Being extra observant

Today, I laughed at: L.'s cupcake face
We went out to dinner to celebrate the boyfriend's father's birthday tonight. Before leaving, I was terrified. Absolutely scared to death about bringing a toddler into a public restaurant. But, she went right into the high chair and played with her toys on the table, especially since the boyfriend's mother brought ones she had never seen before. It turned into a wonderful dinner and the whole family ended up taking so many pictures of L. and her cupcake face.

It's the little things

I only have my daughter for half the week. Even though I'm not an avid fan, the boyfriend periodically will remind me how comedian Louis C. K. finds himself a better parent because of only having his kids half the week. I guess that's true. I get to give 100 percent in that concentrated amount of time, rather than stretching my energy over the course seven days.

For a long time when the separation was new, I would hold myself to the expectation of having something fun planned for every time I had L. That got to be too much energy and waaaay too much money. I've also realized that L. gets as much excitement from pulling up to our neighborhood park as she does when we drive halfway up the state for free admission at Kidcity Children's Museum every third Thursday of the month. It recently resonated with me that it's the little things when I see her that add up to big memories.

Here we are at the park and L. is being chased by little Freddy Krueger.
Five minutes later, little Freddy would not share any of the sand toys.
Little Freddy Krueger is a jerk.

A story of a toddler and her fur babies

Before L. was born, I had already had two fur babies. The Little Man (who, at one time, I assure you, was little) and Princess Penelope Von Purrypants of the Purrypants Kingdom, whom we just refer to as The Princess. They had regular names, given by my ex, but I had nicknames that ended up sticking.

These pictures do not reflect the actual moment

I think on the days I have my daughter, I take about 20 photos per day. Of those photos, three or four make it to Instagram. Of those, one may make it to Facebook.

When I look at other photos of my friends' kids, I picture that picture being the exact window into how that child actually acts. If I were to do that with my photos, I would think my daughter is constantly happy, silly and adorably silent. That's the thing with photos: There is no sound.

What people don't see are the minutes prior when I'm chasing my daughter and telling her not to run into the woods, pick up rocks and throw them, or not to eat the bubble wand. The photos they see are her face with woods in the background, looking happy and attentive. Or walking on a rocky path that winds around the pond in front of our apartment building. Or surrounded with bubbles that I blew seconds before with the camera poised for action.

It's all a lie.