I get by with a little help from my friends

These days I get a lot of "help."  Claire seems to have a spidey-sense and even if she's all the way at the other end of the apartment (okay...it's not that far) she can hear and comes running if she hears the dishwasher or the laundry machine open.  I used to be able to prepare dinner by myself while Claire played with her dad (she REALLY loves her dad--even more than she loves me) but not anymore.  Now she wants to be right in the middle of the cooking action, helping to crack eggs, stirring and examining every ingredient.

I wish that I could say I was always a good sport about the "help" but I'm not.  I've been known to smack her little hands away and evict her from the kitchen just so that I can get things done. I could turn every moment into a teaching moment, helping to tell her about chores and cleaning up and why we do what we do but I don't.   I am sometimes in a hurry and am frustrated by little hands spilling and creating mess.

Sometimes when I talk about the things that Claire and I do I worry that I sound like I'm presenting my perfect life and mothering skills.  I want to assure you that is not the case.  When we make cards, she crumples them up and I have to chase her around the house trying to steal it from her death grip which makes her cry.

Claire helping me fix the tire of the Bob

This is how we do all of our vacuuming these days.  She hates the vacuum and she screams and screams if I don't hold her.

So my friends, just a reminder that we're always keeping it real around here.  No perfect lives and perfect teaching moments but some perfect moments and just as many evictions from the kitchen while the baby kicks and screams and just want to help.