The Art of Walking Away

Oh, the injustice of it all!

To be fair, I've been warned about the terrible twos. And not just recently, since I had Alyssa... but, all my life. When I was younger and use to give my Mom a hard time, I remember her saying to me, "Someday, you'll have a child of your own, and you'll understand." Stop chuckling, Mom, I can hear you half a world away!

In less than a month, Alyssa will be turning two. Something in her brain has, in the last month or so, decided that's already happened and a switch has been turned on. At least once a day, we must have a good ol' cry. Not just any cry: no wimpering, no sobbing, no tear-streaked cheeks... that's just a plain cry. A good ol' cry involves flat out noodling (no bones, refuse to get up off the floor), tightly closed eyes as tears are squeezed through, sometimes wringing of hands are involved, but mostly kicking of feet, and a plaintive cry for mercy. See the picture above? That's a good version of the good ol' cry. The child psychologists in our handy-dandy go-to parenting book all say this is part of the terrible twos; they say it has something to do with letting off steam; and that the best way to handle it is to... wait for it... walk away.

Now, I don't know about you, but for me, walking away from my tear-soaked baby girl is just about one of the hardest things for me to do! Have you seen the picture above?! But I'm learning that it's an art... this walking away thing. It's like training wheels on a bike... for parents. It reminds me when I was pregnant with Alyssa and how I used to go to the bathroom so often I considered moving in there. It was training for having to get up frequently at night once she arrived. Walking away from a screaming, drama-laden toddler is a lesson in deep breaths and emotional self-control. And I can see how it's training for times to come: her first day of school; the first time she knowingly yells at me that she never wants to see me again - ever; when she chooses to hang out with friends instead of me; when she insists on seeing a boy that threatens to give her Dad a heart attack; when she wants to move away for college.

Ok, rewind. Present day: Alyssa in her pjs, just finished two strawberries, walking down the hall with Daddy on a lazy Sunday morning. She suddenly runs out of the bedroom and runs smack into the wall in the hall. She falls down in shock, wimpers and says, "Head!" I tell her it's ok and to come show Mommy. She runs over to me and I kiss her head and ask, "Better?" She looks up at me with her big brown eyes, and says, "Yeths!" Then she runs away... Deep breath, Mommy, deep breath.

Alyssa's Fairytale

Soon to be made into a book!

I made this up for Alyssa around the time she was a month and a half old. Over time I've refined it and this is the story I tell her every now and then.

As told to Alyssa by Mommy...

Once upon a time in a land far, far away there was a little girl named Frances. She had a dream that someday she would meet her prince and that he would be her best friend, that he would make her laugh and that he would love her forever. So she dreamt and she wished, and she dreamt and she wished, and she dreamt and she wished, until one day Frances grew up. Then she realized that she couldn't wait around for her prince, instead she had to go out into the big, big world to find him. So she went to her Mom and Dad and asked them if she could go on a journey of a lifetime. And with their blessings off she went; out into the big, big world.

Now it so happens that also once upon a time in another land far, far away there lived a little boy named Dennis. He too had a dream that someday he would meet his princess and that she would be his best friend, and she would make him laugh, and she would love him forever. So he dreamt and he wished, and he dreamt and he wished, and he dreamt and he wished, until one day Dennis grew up. Then he realized he couldn't wait around for his princess, instead he had to go out into the big, big world to find her. So he went to his Mom and Dad and asked them if he could go on a journey of a lifetime. And with their blessings off he went; out into the big, big world.

Over the mountains, and over the oceans Dennis traveled until he came to a shining White City that sat by a Lake with crystal clear waters that stretched as far as the eye could see. And in that shining White City Dennis met a girl named Frances. They quickly became best friends, and everyday they made each other laugh, and then one day they realized they wanted to love each other forever. For Dennis had found his princess and Frances had found her prince!

But that's not the end of the story yet! Oh no, not at all! For Dennis and Frances had a dream of their own, that someday they could have a little princess to call their own. A little princess to whom they would be her best friends, that everyday they could make her laugh, and they would promise to love forever. So they dreamt and they wished, and they dreamt and they wished, and they dreamt and they wished... until one day... one beautiful summer night in that shining White City that sat by a Lake with crystal clear waters that stretched as far as the eye could see... On June 24, 2009 at 8:51pm, Alyssa Canonizado Belogorsky was born to Dennis and Frances. She was seven pounds-thirteen ounces, twenty-one inches long and as beautiful as the morning sun!

And that, my little princess... is YOU!

The End!

Down the Yellow Brick Road

I still remember the first time I watched The Wizard of Oz and when Dorothy, arm in arm with the Tin Man, The Lion, and The Scarecrow, started to follow the Yellow Brick Road I knew it was the beginning of an amazing journey. That's exactly how I feel now every time I interact with Alyssa. Her baby days were wonderful and sweet, but as a toddler it's a whole different world!

She is learning new things everyday and as she does so she gives me and her Daddy a whole new perspective. As she learns new words we're reminded to watch what we say. And as she uses the words she's learned I'm amazed at how her little mind works; I'm struck at how she puts concepts together and identifies what she sees, and remembers what she discovered yesterday. She picks up something new everyday - colors, shapes, even identifying numbers and letters in the alphabet. How does she know that a bear in a book, the stuffed animal on her bed, and a bear in the zoo are all the same thing... a bear?!

But what's truly amazing is that her awe at all things around her is absolutely contagious. When we took her recently to the aquarium the look in her eyes was indescribable. It was sheer wonder and joy... and I felt the same way. Alyssa's greatest gift to her Mommy and Daddy right now is bringing us into her world. As an adult you sometimes forget to marvel at the world around you. Things become mundane. As an adult with a toddler, you can't help but see the world through her eyes! Thank you, my little girl for opening my eyes to the wonder of flowers, and bears, and the "lolors" pink, "lellow", and "puh-ple". Thank you for showing me "pish" and "burs" and "la-la-las" (piggys in Sandra Boynton's book, Moo Ba La La La). And above all else, thank you for taking me and your Daddy, arm in arm with you down your Yellow Brick Road.

It's a Wonderful Life

On the cusp of a New Year, I'm at a turning point in my life. Act two, so to speak. The past twelve months have brought more joy in my life than I thought my heart could hold. The love of a child and husband that I never dreamt could be possible. And yet, it has also brought me the most trying challenge I have ever faced. I had cancer - breast cancer. And the operative word is had. On December 17 I had a mastectomy, on December 23 my CT scans and bone scans came back negative. Now though, I face a long road ahead of treatment to make sure it doesn't come back - starting with chemotherapy. Today I find out my schedule. And I'll be honest, it terrifies me. More than surgery did - I just wanted that over with; wanted the tumor gone. But chemo, and all it's side effects is a scary prospect.

When I was younger I thought that being brave was about being fearless. As I grew older and wiser, I've come to understand that it's the exact opposite. It is exactly about being fearful. Bravery is about going forward, despite being afraid. I think of this often as I face chemo and what will happen in the months ahead. And I think to myself, what's a few months of discomfort compared to a lifetime of happiness with Alyssa and Dennis? I have a feeling that will be my mantra for 2011.

The New Year is our chance - for each one of us - at a rebirth. A chance to start anew; clean slate. Like George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life we get another chance to start fresh. In my case, I'm certain that I've gotten another chance. Going forward is my act two. And I won't waste a single moment of it. My resolutions are this: I will not waste a single moment by stressing, or dwelling on the negative. I will be constructive and positive in how I approach bumps in the road. I will laugh at every opportunity to do so; and I will cry if my heart tells me it needs to. I will love until my heart overflows and I will accept love from anyone who offers it. I will dance and sing and sigh, and revel at how beautiful it is to be alive. I will look around me and always think, indeed, it's a wonderful life!

Courage and Thanksgiving

As I write I am sitting in a waiting room in an oversized medical gown waiting to have a needle biopsy on a lump I found last week in my right breast. Yes, I'm scared; yes, I've gone down the path of thinking the worst. And I've bounced back. I have no choice. I am in Alyssa-Land and I promised my little girl when she invited me here that I was going to stay for as long as she needed me.

No pain, no gain. That's the life lesson my Dad left me. He always used to say that as I was growing up. And at times it annoyed me to no end. But he was right. Every beautiful and worthwhile milestone in my life has not come without some struggle, some pain. But the gain has always been worth it. Maybe even more so, because of the pain.

There are other women in the room with me. I don't know their stories, but I can imagine their fears. I can only pray for them and hope that they will come out on the other end of this waiting game, stronger and triumphant. It's not easy to be brave. Courage, I believe, is being petrified and yet moving forward. Claiming the fear, trusting, keeping faith that all will be well in the end.

For Alyssa, there is nothing I wouldn't do. There isn't anything I wouldn't attempt to overcome. There is so much in my life to be thankful for, starting first and foremost with this beautiful angel who guides every step of my life.

Mommy will be ok, my Alyssa-bee, my baby bee. I love you.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Alyssa-Land Express

Leaf wonder at Ryerson Woods

So I had this conversation yesterday at lunch with co-workers about age. As is common, some feel older than they are, some feel younger, and some don't really think about it at all. Which got me thinking. I just turned 36 last week and I'm one of those people who feel younger than they are. Especially now that I have Alyssa.

Now don't get me wrong, I certainly feel physically older - I mean pregnancy takes a toll on a woman's body - but that being said, I feel younger simply because I now get to view everyday through Alyssa's eyes.

Welcome aboard the Alyssa-Land Express! Every day is a new adventure; every new object, new experience, is amazing and wondrous. Alyssa never passes up the opportunity to stop and inspect the most mundane items that come across her path. Every moment is a party; every achievement is a celebration. Life is amazing already, but life through Alyssa's eyes, in Alyssa's world is phenomenal. It's a journey of discovery and she brings me along on each adventure.

We gain so much as we age. We process the world around us differently. We become more critical, more aware, and yet, because of all the cares and worries of being adult we've lost (or maybe forgotten) the ability to be wowed. So as I've struggled for the past 36 years to grow up, grow old, grow wise, I've found that I've also grown, well, predictable. I've grown to like certain things a certain way, and dismiss (or ignore) things that fall outside my narrow comfort zone. The trade-off to this comfort is that I'm only aware of what's in front of me, but not of what's around me.

Thankfully here comes Alyssa on her adventure ride; not even asking me to come along, but just dragging me with her along the way. And just like that it's as if a veil has been lifted. I look around me now and see in the mundane what could be a new discovery for Alyssa. What new and fabulous exploration can we go on today? Is bubble wrap a possible magic carpet ride? Are falling leaves a shower of gold and magic? Is the blowing wind a thousand kisses from unseen fairies? Who knows? But it's all awesome; it's all new; and it's all taking place in Alyssa-Land! Thank you, baby for sharing the ride.

Father Time, Slow Down!

It's been a year since my maternity leave was up and Alyssa started daycare. And it's been the fastest year of my life! I truly cannot believe, or even really fully grasp how the past twelve months have just gone by. A year ago, Alyssa was this fragile little baby who couldn't sit up on her own and wasn't even eating solid food yet. Today she's walking, speaking about 10 words, pointing at everything, has 8-10 teeth and is a voracious eater, sleeps with a pillow and a blanket, and knows how to manipulate Mommy and Daddy at will. When did this happen?!

When I think about it, I actually panic at the thought that it's gone by so fast... so Father Time, I beg of you - please slow down!

Why can't she stay a baby longer? Everyday she exerts some new form of independence; some new feat with a footnote that reads, "Mommy not necessary." Pause here for a long, deep sigh from Mommy. But then that's what being a Mommy is all about, isn't it? Come to think of it, I really only had nine months when she was mine, all mine. The moment she said "hello world" she was already making strides toward independence: breathing on her own; telling me that she was hungry, or sleepy or poopy; sitting up on her own; crawling; walking; climbing; eating; thinking... next thing I know she'll be asking for the car keys. I get that being a parent is about nurturing them, supporting them, loving them, and all along the way learning to let them go a little bit at a time.

But it really is the hardest job in the world. With every achievement my heart is so full of pride and joy; and at the same time it breaks a little to see her grow away from me just a teeny bit more. And that feeling right there, that is what being a Mommy is about.

So to my Mom: I get it now. You were right. I'm sorry. Thank you. And I love you.