So, how is Lily doing.

(Disclaimer: most of these photos aren't great, and a lot are crappy cell phone pics. You use what you have on you, whether or not you know how to use it well. And sometimes the photos that are a better quality aren't the ones that hold the memory. Oh well.)

With a new baby in the house, we are a family in transition. When Lily was born, I struggled with the transition to motherhood. The first few weeks were rough. Change isn’t easy for anyone – except perhaps my husband, who is exceptionally good at rolling with whatever punches come his way. Lily is more like her mother, though, and she is struggling to manage all this change that we are throwing at her. But she is also just Lily being four years old.

She is still a princess. She is our princess, and she always will be. As Ariel, she is demonstrating her “I ain’t gonna marry that loser” face, and as Aurora, she was dressing up to watch the Oscars with me. Hers was the dress by which all others were judged. (Anything that was sparkly, pink, or purple got a favorable review. Even those with "silly arm holes.")

She has been choosing her own clothes. And accessories.

She spent some time in the kitchen when we had visitors. (Because it obviously wasn’t me in the kitchen.) She made popsicles with Jen and cookies with Nana. She also just started cooking class at school. She told me she would help me learn to cook, too.

She painted a mug for her daddy for Valentine’s Day.

Speaking of Valentine’s Day, I had hoped to make some handmade cards together for her class, but recognizing that might have been a bit ambitious, I bought some princess-castle-lollipop cards as a backup. Of course Plan A failed and the night before her class party, I pulled out the Plan B with the idea that at least I could sit down with her and help her put them together. Two valentines later, my newborn needed me, and by the time I got back she was done. And I was stuck somewhere between being proud that she did it all on her own and guilt for not being there with her. This is a place I’m finding myself frequently these days.  

She is also proud of herself for learning to swing without any help. Not even a little push. (Insert more guilt.)

Luckily, we have been able to schedule some play dates so she has someone to play with at the park.  Lily and Jade always play so well together.

And Jen was there to do yoga with her.

When Daddy is home, it is easier for one of us to give her some quality play time. She has never been interested in her baby dolls, but apparently our situation has inspired something. Her babies get their diapers changed, nap frequently, and they have tummy time.
And, yes, she is a breastfeeding mama. Sigh.

When she's not taking care of her babies, she's getting married. I got to be the flower girl when she married my husband. (Maybe we have been watching too many soaps.)

Even though she's a  busy new wife and mom, she spends the majority of her time in her "art studio," where she makes all kinds of stuff, and a big ole mess.

Her art has also become a way for her to express her emotions, particularly, her displeasure with her mom and dad.

I got my first piece of hate mail from my baby girl. One day we were making cards together, and I made her a card that said "let's have fun." When I didn't want to put a bird on it (true story) she got mad at me and revised my card to (try to) say "let's not have fun."
And it wasn't my last nastygram. I got this one just the other day.

And then there was the day that she got mad at me because she couldn't have both a candy and a cookie. When I left her to finish her tantrum in her room, she cut out a heart. I was rocking Brendan, and she brought me the heart and handed it to me. I said thank you and took it. She took it back, and right there, pulled out her little crappy scissors and cut the top off it.

Just as I started to worry about whether she would grow up to be a psychopath, I told her that it hurt my feelings. She left. A few minutes later, she came back with a pile of little hearts, thrust them out to me, and said, "Sorry."

So many emotions that she just doesn't know how to manage.

But for every angry card and severed heart, she creates tons and tons of little cards and drawings of happy things.

She even promised to clean everything I need. I'm hanging on to that one.

She made her first scrapbook page complete with her own embellishments. She created that tulip for her page and a matching tulip for my page, too. I suppose one day I'll have to let her have this, but for now, I'm keeping it.

She has a thing for writing lists. Grocery list, to-do list, roll call, whatever. One day she made a list of the things we'd do for the rest of our day. Most of the time she makes me spell words for her, but she went with pictures on this one. First lunch, then movie time, then play time, then we would call Daddy, then "love time" (that's when we cuddle), and Daddy comes home at 5:00. (I wish.)

She had been asking to go to the library, so one day I decided to be brave and take both kids out by myself.

It started well. Brendan was happy. Lily picked out "Angelina and the Royal Wedding." Again. (The best part is when she gets excited like she found it by chance. She knows exactly where to find it.)

It ended badly. As we were trying to check out, Brendan decided to get fussy. When I picked him up, he cried louder. In the library. Thanks, buddy.

So Lily and I decided that he couldn't come with us again until he learns how to use his library voice. In the meantime, Lily said she would pick out a book for him.

One day I tried to trim Brendan's nails. I accidentally - and barely -cut his tiny little finger. Lily was really upset with me. A week or so later, she saw me grab the clippers and Brendan's tiny finger, and she got upset all over again. Finally she allowed me to file his nails, but I couldn't clip them.

So we are in transition. Some days are better than others, and we are having more good days as we fall into a new routine. She still gets mad at us. She often ignores her baby brother. But I know she loves being a big sister. She is always, always, always, good to him. And she will always, always, always be my baby girl.