Managing the space/time continuum of toddlerhood

Lately I've been wishing that time would stand still for a few minutes every day.

I haven't been watching Heroes this season, but I watched the first three seasons religiously and my favorite character, hands down, was Hiro Nakamura, the guy who could manipulate space and time. I loved the idea that he could move through time and stop it when it suited him. Well, that and he's just freakin' adorable.

Since Annika has made the leap from infancy to toddlerhood I have been missing the infant days. Not just because it was slower, but because now I can see that Annika really will grow up. During the infant stage she needed me so much and was so helpless that it seemed like it would last forever. (Believe me, sometimes I wanted to speed time up.)

So since I am not Hiro Nakamura, what I have been doing to manage my own space/time continuum is trying to take mental snapshots when I get the chance.

I want to remember the way she laughs and holds her head close to mine when she is feeling warm and fuzzy.

Instead of getting frustrated when she wants to spend 20 minutes running around the car and trying to open it with my keys, I let her. I revel in the magical wonderment of keys and locks instead of tapping my foot and wishing she would just come inside with me so I can make dinner.

Last week I started taking baths with her again. I know this is a practice of many folks with their infants, but Annika always hated baths until recently so it was in and out for her with as little fanfare as possible.

But yeah, now she LOVES the bath. So we get in together and she keeps the water running filling her cups with it and dumping it on herself while I lounge in the deep end, amused by her fascination with pouring.

She has been learning so much lately. Every day she says even more new words and she is starting to say things that I didn't even know she knew! That is the magical wonderment of parenthood.

Additionally, with it being Christmastime, I have been thinking about traditions and wanting to make the right choices when it comes to memory-making for Annika.

I have been thinking that I want to make the month of December all about slowing down time, spending it with her and ensuring that her memories of Christmas are not just about presents, but about spending time with her loved ones.

Well that and believing in a fat guy who can fit down a chimney.

Yes Annika, there is a Santa Claus

Before I was a mother I always knew that if I had children I would never lie to them, that included Santa. I always figured that kids needed to know their parents told them the truth.

After Annika was born it remained a no-brainer. I always planned to play down the Santa part of Christmas and just tell her that it was a story when she was old enough to start asking questions.

Last year when Annika was an infant, I had this argument with a friend who couldn't believe how heartless I would be to deny my daughter the fantasy of Santa.

This year Annika is still not old enough to talk about it but something has changed in my way of thinking. I am now pondering the possibility that maybe she would like that fantasy and if done right it could really make for some wonderful childhood memories.

I was seven when I realized solidly that there was no Santa. I was floored. The way I found out was a pretty rude awakening.

There's a back story, so bear with me. My little brother was born at home by accident, my mother's labor had progressed quickly while she slept under the effects of a sleeping pill. When the panicked emergency calls went out, the first responders were firefighters. So they attended Chuck's birth, which was in May. Since he was her fourth child my mother didn't need much help and spent her final moments of labor ordering several sweaty firemen into the bathroom to wash their hands.

That Christmas Eve those sweaty guys showed up with the fire chief dressed as Santa in order to give my little brother a Teddy Bear.

I snuck out of bed and crouched by the bannister watching in awe as Santa held my baby brother in his arms. I was so excited! Santa was here and my older brother and sister were sleeping through it!

I could not wait to hold this one over their heads.

As I watched my parents wave goodbye to Santa I realized Santa and his elves were not getting into a sleigh at all, but a firetruck. Hmmm, I thought that Santa looked familiar.

I was confused. But I came to the awful conclusion that Santa wasn't real when my mother confirmed that those men were from the fire department as I listened to her relay the visit to someone over the phone.

Maybe I had already suspected it. I've always been a logical person. I do remember questioning just how Santa could make all those visits in one night.

But when I think back on it, I loved the fantasy. I remember listening for the reindeer hooves on the roof and insisting that I HAD heard them. I remember wshing I could visit Santa's toy factory. I wanted to be an elf.

Even though I eventually figured it out I am glad my parents promoted the story. If anything, I wish they had hyped it more, not less.

I've heard parents debate this topic, reasons that affect how new parents handle Santa almost always involve the way their parents handled it. It seems that the only angry memories involve parents who did not promote the Santa story. I have yet to hear any adult say, "Yeah, my parents LIED to me. Boy was I pissed when I found out there was no Santa Claus."

I only hope that when Annika does figure out the truth it will come gently.