This morning, you declared your hot cocoa to be preposterous. You didn't quite know what that meant, so we talked about it, and decided it might be "preposterously good."
Yesterday at lunch, we talked about how settlers in covered wagons might have gotten across a mountain range.
Last night we had friends over for dinner. You read them "Because a Little Bug Went Ka-Choo," and you read so fluently that one of the friends jokingly grabbed a book on pedagogy from my shelf and asked you to read that, too. You did.
This morning, you bent my fancy lamp out of shape (for the third time), woke us up early, and have been hooting and whistling most of the morning.
These days, I post a lot of the funny things you say and do on Facebook, and I don't update this blog very frequently, but I think someday all those little things will have vanished into the ether, and you will want to know what you were like as a child, what you did and said.
And there are a few things that are too private, or too much like bragging, or not pithy enough to share with all those goofballs I went to high school once, or worked with a decade and a half ago.
Here is one of the brags: The other night, we walked to Three Sisters for dinner. You wanted to bring your book, a collection of poems I bought you. One of your favorites is a Robert Frost, mainly because it's illustrated with a fairy on a rose. On the same page is a short excerpt of The Tempest. While we waited for our food, you read that one, and then on the next page, an Emily Dickinson. So yes… you're five, and voluntarily reading Shakespeare at the dinner table.
Here is one of the private things: you've now been on your ADHD medication for four months. It does a lot of good. I still sometimes confront the friends or articles that indicate that ADHD is over-diagnosed, over-medicated. All our kids need, these people say, is a chance to have some freedom, or to spend some time outdoors, or a less-structured or more-structured school environment, or a gluten-free diet. And I briefly, guiltily question our choice to medicate you. But the thing is, you are you, yourself, not some trend or statistic or study. And when you were not on medication, you got in trouble in school, got in trouble at home, got kicked out of karate, found that all but the most hyper of the other kids avoided you, and could not sit still long enough to do the things you now enjoy -- reading, dressing dolls, writing, drawing, knitting. And it's not as though you turned into some zombie drone child: you are still energetic, funny, playful, and sometimes pretty wild and loud. For you, it has improved your day-to-day experience. For you, it has kept you out of some trouble. For you, it has expanded your friend circle. For you, it has allowed you to learn some things. For you, we've made the right choice.
Here is one of the not-pithy things: You went to your first karate tournament a couple weeks ago. Your interest in karate has ebbed and flowed, but it's been higher since the long break we took this summer. I asked if you wanted to do the tournament, and you did. We paid our registration fee, tied your hair back, put your freshly washed gi on, and drove to Auburn. There were only six kids in your age group (although this took a while to sort out -- they had initially combined the 4-5 year olds with the 6-7s, and then one very small boy kept insisting he was 6). You were the last to present, and you sat patiently while the other five went. This alone was a gratifying miracle. When it was your turn, you proudly, in loud, clear tones, introduced yourselves to the judges. You started off well, getting six steps in before you forgot what to do. You paused a long time, looked around… and I whispered, mainly to myself, "punch isa!" You heard the whisper, though, and, looking for help, turned to me. I said it again, but by then you were off your game. You finished, and thanked the judges, and sat down again.
You waited patiently then, got your scores (they were low, but not significantly lower than the other kids, leading me to believe that if you hadn't forgotten, you'd probably have earned a medal), and sat waiting. They did the math, then announced the winners of the gold, silver, and bronze medals. You were not among them. Then came the 6-7 year olds. I asked if you wanted to leave during the break, but you didn't. We watched their demonstrations, and then the judges came back to give a fourth-place ribbon to another child in your age group, but that left you as one of the only two who still didn't have anything. I asked if you wanted to leave, but you wanted to watch the flag game as well, and I think you were secretly hoping they would come back again with more ribbons. After flag game, we left. Though you had been patient and dignified in the dojo, you bawled your eyes out in the car. We talked about how next time you could practice more, and you agreed you would want to go to another tournament (although initially, you wanted to give up karate and try soccer, or ballet, or gymnastics).
Here is what I have to say about that. You choked -- it's true. And you hadn't practiced enough beforehand. That was a choice you made. But I'm still SO PROUD of you. You were patient, attentive, polite, respectful, dignified, and you even were reflective enough to understand that it was your own choices and actions (or inactions) that led to your loss. So you lost the tournament. You lost HARD. But I'm so glad for it all, because I saw you grow up a little, or perhaps you had already grown up and I hadn't noticed. One way or another, you behaved like a newer, bigger, wiser, and more patient kid than I was used to seeing, and I am so proud that you were a good loser. Next time, maybe you'll be a good winner instead, because this will push you to work harder. Not a bad lesson for $20 and a drive out to Auburn.
Anyway, I love you like crazy, and there's so much more I could say, but right now you're thumbing through one of my Japanese animation books waiting for me to be ready to go to yoga.
Love you always,
Mom
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Just after 3am, you'll have been living and breathing for five years. Well, breathing successfully took a bit longer. But that means that at this time five years ago, I was at 33rd street bistro having breakfast. My water had broken already, but I had been turned away from the hospital. You were already three days overdue, and I thought we would have you on Spring Break, but that week had come and gone. This was my first day of already-scheduled maternity leave, so I wasn't going to work. It was a quiet morning. All hell broke loose later, when I had a doctor's appointment and he insisted I go directly to the hospital and be induced.
It's amazing to think that so much time has elapsed. You have now been part of your father's and my lives for longer than you haven't (by which I mean, your dad and I had been together for just less than five years when we had you). In a few months, you'll be in kindergarten -- you're already enrolled -- and you'll be in the care of a teacher for 3 1/2 hours a day. It is shocking, and yet perfectly natural. You're my baby, and yet you are your own quite independent little person. Let me tell you a little bit about yourself right now.
You can read pretty well, although you're not much interested in reading stories to yourself. But as we drive along the street, you yell out "Shell!" "Pets!" "Tacos! Hey, can we stop there? They have tacos." Today you read several things in the program at the ballet. You play with language a lot, too, switching up sounds and things to make puns that are occasionally not bad.
You love camping, hiking, and the outdoors a lot. I offered to take you to Effie Yeaw nature center for a walk on your birthday, and you wouldn't even hear of other suggestions after that. Your artwork is getting much more recognizable. It's generally obvious now if you've made a flower or a tree or a bee. You still like to pretend, but it's not as constant an undertaking as it once was. Maybe six months ago, if I forgot for a second that I was Mary Ingalls and you were Laura, I would be soundly yelled at. Now, we pretend a few times a week.
You've finished The Hobbit and the first two Lord of the Rings books. You're nearing the end of the third. In the meantime, we've also read some longer chapter books, like The Wizard of Dark Street. We just started The Cats of Tanglewood Forest.
You're still not a good sleeper. I have done everything I can think of -- blackout curtains, a white noise machine, no TV right before bedtime, a bedtime routine -- and although the melatonin we've started helps you get to sleep at bedtime, you still often wake in the night. I have to chalk it up to an essential part of your nature. You're just energetic, kinetic, and wiggly.
You like TV, but not so much that I'm worried about you turning into a Roald Dahl character. We limit it to about an hour and ten minutes per day (including iPad time, although sometimes we push it a little), and there are times when you really wish time wasn't up. But then there are also days when you never ask to watch and we don't remind you, so you don't watch any at all.
A few people were commenting on how much you loved your dresses and high heels. You were indeed VERY excited to get high heeled shoes for your birthday (I have said no, but your grandma asked if she could buy you some, and I said it was fine). It's true that you like those things, but I appreciate that you're not a super-girly-girl, either. You like science a lot, and bugs, and roughhousing. I think you're a pretty well-balanced kid.
Sometimes you're a challenge. Like, seriously. You believe anything can be argued, and you argue semantics constantly. "We've told you a hundred times not to throw things in the house!" "But I didn't throw it. I tossed it." You also have no idea that you don't have the authority and standing to make your own rules, or that your parents can totally tell you what to do. If you had been raised by other people in another era, you'd have been smacked in the mouth on thousands of occasions. Every time we ask you, in serious voice, to do or not do something, you continue to do your own thing while reasoning it out, "Well, actually..."
As far as day to day stuff goes, you wear lots of different kinds of clothes, many dresses, jeans, leggings... Your favorite dress is probably your plaid Christmas dress, so I just let you wear it whenever. It'll be too small my next year, so I don't care if you destroy it by wearing it to the park. You will eat almost anything as long as there is no hint whatsoever of spiciness. You are terrified of spicy! Even mint gum is a little much for you. Other than that, though, you'll eat Mexican, Indian, Vietnamese... your favorite is still noodles, though. You initially requested the Old Spaghetti Factory as your birthday dinner, but then realized you could request Roxy, so you had a steak for your birthday.
Your best friend is Damien. He lives across the street from McKinley Park, and you've been in pre-school with him for two years. You both say you want to marry each other, and when you see each other after a few days apart, you usually run to each other, arms out, yelling each other's names. When parting, you frequently yell, "I love you." Both of you do. It's sweet as hell, and just a little terrifying. Next year, you won't go to the same school. I'm hoping we can still find time to meet his family for playdates, but I'm sure you'll drift apart and find new friends, too.
You're in karate, and sometimes you try really hard and show an aptitude for it. I also sometimes hear you thinking things out a a very positive, martial-arts way. We talk a lot about "emptying your cup," which is how your teacher, Mr. Oliver, describes letting things in your mind go. Other times, you declare that you hate karate and want to quit. I think you're bummed out that you haven't progressed at getting the belts as quickly as some of your friends, but it has to do with the wiggly silliness that's a pretty much constant presence in your life. You don't get a stripe on your belt if you don't behave in class, and it's a real effort for you to behave all the way through class. But I think it's good for you overall, and I'm going to press you to stay in it for a while.
Well, I've written this in fits and spurts all day, and it's now almost 7pm. Five years ago today, we had arrived at the hospital and I think I was having my last bite of food before they induced labor. I do lots of things in the few quiet moments between when you need me and need me again. I don't mind it, because the day will come when you don't really need me at all, and that will be the proudest and saddest day of my life. And there probably won't even be a candle to blow out. It will happen gradually, and neither of us may even ever notice. You'll probably think you'll always need me. But we've been talking a lot about the difference between wants and needs, and if I do my job, you'll just want me sometimes. I hope.
It's amazing to think that so much time has elapsed. You have now been part of your father's and my lives for longer than you haven't (by which I mean, your dad and I had been together for just less than five years when we had you). In a few months, you'll be in kindergarten -- you're already enrolled -- and you'll be in the care of a teacher for 3 1/2 hours a day. It is shocking, and yet perfectly natural. You're my baby, and yet you are your own quite independent little person. Let me tell you a little bit about yourself right now.
You can read pretty well, although you're not much interested in reading stories to yourself. But as we drive along the street, you yell out "Shell!" "Pets!" "Tacos! Hey, can we stop there? They have tacos." Today you read several things in the program at the ballet. You play with language a lot, too, switching up sounds and things to make puns that are occasionally not bad.
You love camping, hiking, and the outdoors a lot. I offered to take you to Effie Yeaw nature center for a walk on your birthday, and you wouldn't even hear of other suggestions after that. Your artwork is getting much more recognizable. It's generally obvious now if you've made a flower or a tree or a bee. You still like to pretend, but it's not as constant an undertaking as it once was. Maybe six months ago, if I forgot for a second that I was Mary Ingalls and you were Laura, I would be soundly yelled at. Now, we pretend a few times a week.
You've finished The Hobbit and the first two Lord of the Rings books. You're nearing the end of the third. In the meantime, we've also read some longer chapter books, like The Wizard of Dark Street. We just started The Cats of Tanglewood Forest.
You're still not a good sleeper. I have done everything I can think of -- blackout curtains, a white noise machine, no TV right before bedtime, a bedtime routine -- and although the melatonin we've started helps you get to sleep at bedtime, you still often wake in the night. I have to chalk it up to an essential part of your nature. You're just energetic, kinetic, and wiggly.
You like TV, but not so much that I'm worried about you turning into a Roald Dahl character. We limit it to about an hour and ten minutes per day (including iPad time, although sometimes we push it a little), and there are times when you really wish time wasn't up. But then there are also days when you never ask to watch and we don't remind you, so you don't watch any at all.
A few people were commenting on how much you loved your dresses and high heels. You were indeed VERY excited to get high heeled shoes for your birthday (I have said no, but your grandma asked if she could buy you some, and I said it was fine). It's true that you like those things, but I appreciate that you're not a super-girly-girl, either. You like science a lot, and bugs, and roughhousing. I think you're a pretty well-balanced kid.
Sometimes you're a challenge. Like, seriously. You believe anything can be argued, and you argue semantics constantly. "We've told you a hundred times not to throw things in the house!" "But I didn't throw it. I tossed it." You also have no idea that you don't have the authority and standing to make your own rules, or that your parents can totally tell you what to do. If you had been raised by other people in another era, you'd have been smacked in the mouth on thousands of occasions. Every time we ask you, in serious voice, to do or not do something, you continue to do your own thing while reasoning it out, "Well, actually..."
As far as day to day stuff goes, you wear lots of different kinds of clothes, many dresses, jeans, leggings... Your favorite dress is probably your plaid Christmas dress, so I just let you wear it whenever. It'll be too small my next year, so I don't care if you destroy it by wearing it to the park. You will eat almost anything as long as there is no hint whatsoever of spiciness. You are terrified of spicy! Even mint gum is a little much for you. Other than that, though, you'll eat Mexican, Indian, Vietnamese... your favorite is still noodles, though. You initially requested the Old Spaghetti Factory as your birthday dinner, but then realized you could request Roxy, so you had a steak for your birthday.
Your best friend is Damien. He lives across the street from McKinley Park, and you've been in pre-school with him for two years. You both say you want to marry each other, and when you see each other after a few days apart, you usually run to each other, arms out, yelling each other's names. When parting, you frequently yell, "I love you." Both of you do. It's sweet as hell, and just a little terrifying. Next year, you won't go to the same school. I'm hoping we can still find time to meet his family for playdates, but I'm sure you'll drift apart and find new friends, too.
You're in karate, and sometimes you try really hard and show an aptitude for it. I also sometimes hear you thinking things out a a very positive, martial-arts way. We talk a lot about "emptying your cup," which is how your teacher, Mr. Oliver, describes letting things in your mind go. Other times, you declare that you hate karate and want to quit. I think you're bummed out that you haven't progressed at getting the belts as quickly as some of your friends, but it has to do with the wiggly silliness that's a pretty much constant presence in your life. You don't get a stripe on your belt if you don't behave in class, and it's a real effort for you to behave all the way through class. But I think it's good for you overall, and I'm going to press you to stay in it for a while.
Well, I've written this in fits and spurts all day, and it's now almost 7pm. Five years ago today, we had arrived at the hospital and I think I was having my last bite of food before they induced labor. I do lots of things in the few quiet moments between when you need me and need me again. I don't mind it, because the day will come when you don't really need me at all, and that will be the proudest and saddest day of my life. And there probably won't even be a candle to blow out. It will happen gradually, and neither of us may even ever notice. You'll probably think you'll always need me. But we've been talking a lot about the difference between wants and needs, and if I do my job, you'll just want me sometimes. I hope.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
You are four years old
And how can I encapsulate you in one little blog entry? Well, I can't, of course. But what has struck me lately about who you are, and what will you want to know in twenty years' time?
Probably this: You are incredibly smart. I'm making an effort not to praise you just for being smart, but rather for working hard, overcoming challenges, solving problems, etc. Because you can't help being smart, and you're not doing anything in particular to be smart, you just are that. It would be like praising you for having a wee nose. But it's so apparent to everyone we meet that your intelligence gets commented on, and praised, a whole lot.
How does it come out? Well, your speech is phenomenal. Not that you don't still usually gloss over your Ls, but rather, there are a few other things. First, your vocabulary is staggering. You'll toss words like "phenomenal" into everyday speech. But your speech patterns are interesting, too. You're quick to catch on to idioms, turns of phrase, and all the little ways we wind clauses and phrases together. Your speech can tend to sound very adult because of it.
Another way your intelligence comes out is in your reasoning. You can try to argue down anyone, for any reason, on any topic. It's not always perfect logic, but it's enough to give us all a hint that in a few years, you're going to be scary.
You love learning, too. You spell things, listen to spellings and sound out the words, and invent spellings for things you don't know. "D-A-M-E-N!" you proudly announced the other day. Damien is your friend in school, and though you hadn't got it exactly right, it was good enough for me to know what you meant. Daddy woke you up the other night when he jostled you, and in your sleep, you murmured, "B-O-D-C-O-A." You also told me a few days ago, "I love you more than I love science, and I love science this much!" and you spread your arms wide.
What else? You are interested in books that are written for older kids. In the last few weeks, we've read two Harry Potter books and Roald Dahl's Mathilda. And you get somewhat obsessed. I've been speaking in an English accent for weeks, because if I stop, you'll remind me, "We're pretending! You're Ron, and I'm Hermione."
You will eat nearly anything. I'm so proud that you're a good eater, and I have to hold my tongue sometimes when other parents complain that their kids won't eat vegetables. I made a canellini bean, sweet potato and chard casserole last week, and you ate all your portion, exclaiming that it was the best thing I'd ever made. Of course, your favorite is sweets, and we have to limit those. If there's candy around, you'll find it and unwrap it, then laugh as you show me you're eating it. I nearly lost my cool today: I had baked the chocolate cake for your birthday, and when I briefly left the room, I saw that you had nicked a small piece from one of the layers.
You have recently decided that you hate pink and love only purple and teal, although you still dress yourself in pink when you have the option to choose your clothes. You actually are doing a lot more on your own lately -- taking off your Pull-up after bed, taking your jammies off, choosing your outfit and putting it on, getting your shoes on... And you have chores. We ask you to take your laundry to the washer, to put your books away in your room, to wipe the table after dinner, and now, to vacuum the living room rug. You actually seem happy and proud to help. I think it makes you feel grown-up.
You are capable of being very sweet. You love to cuddle, and even if you and I are doing different activities, say, if I'm on the computer and you're watching TV, you like to sit on my lap. You are working hard on using your manners and asking for things politely, although it's still a bit of a struggle.
And there are challenges, too. From the moment I could feel you kicking at about 4 months along, I knew you were more active and energetic than most kids. It is... noticeable. You really never slow down. A fellow preschooler's mom was kind enough to call you "kinetic" the other day. And there are times that you will talk nearly nonstop. And you are not so much a limit-tester as a boundary-knocker-downer and see what happens. If there is a limit, you won't simply test it, but hammer at it, sand-blast it, double-check it for faults, move it while we're not looking, and pole-vault over it and back. You have never heard "no" that you didn't come back with, "Well, actually..." or "what if...?" And you are a born negotiator. "I'll cuddle for five more minutes, but then I have to get up," I might say. You have never said, "Okay." Your answer is, "Firteen minutes!"
I love you dearly, and I wouldn't change a hair on your head for a million dollars, but you are a little exhausting sometimes.
Right now you are sleeping, curled up next to Dad, surely far over into his territory in the bed. Soon I'll move you to yours, and you'll probably sleep through the night. That's been true more often than not lately, and I'm appreciative of it. Your potty habits are getting much more regulated, and much more your responsibility. In terms of actual caring for you, there's not that much to do anymore -- you get the food to your mouth, dress yourself (sometimes multiple times per day), go to the bathroom -- but instructing you in life is another matter. Those conversations are harder and more serious every day, and I only hope I'm doing it right.
I love you very much,
Mom
Probably this: You are incredibly smart. I'm making an effort not to praise you just for being smart, but rather for working hard, overcoming challenges, solving problems, etc. Because you can't help being smart, and you're not doing anything in particular to be smart, you just are that. It would be like praising you for having a wee nose. But it's so apparent to everyone we meet that your intelligence gets commented on, and praised, a whole lot.
How does it come out? Well, your speech is phenomenal. Not that you don't still usually gloss over your Ls, but rather, there are a few other things. First, your vocabulary is staggering. You'll toss words like "phenomenal" into everyday speech. But your speech patterns are interesting, too. You're quick to catch on to idioms, turns of phrase, and all the little ways we wind clauses and phrases together. Your speech can tend to sound very adult because of it.
Another way your intelligence comes out is in your reasoning. You can try to argue down anyone, for any reason, on any topic. It's not always perfect logic, but it's enough to give us all a hint that in a few years, you're going to be scary.
You love learning, too. You spell things, listen to spellings and sound out the words, and invent spellings for things you don't know. "D-A-M-E-N!" you proudly announced the other day. Damien is your friend in school, and though you hadn't got it exactly right, it was good enough for me to know what you meant. Daddy woke you up the other night when he jostled you, and in your sleep, you murmured, "B-O-D-C-O-A." You also told me a few days ago, "I love you more than I love science, and I love science this much!" and you spread your arms wide.
What else? You are interested in books that are written for older kids. In the last few weeks, we've read two Harry Potter books and Roald Dahl's Mathilda. And you get somewhat obsessed. I've been speaking in an English accent for weeks, because if I stop, you'll remind me, "We're pretending! You're Ron, and I'm Hermione."
You will eat nearly anything. I'm so proud that you're a good eater, and I have to hold my tongue sometimes when other parents complain that their kids won't eat vegetables. I made a canellini bean, sweet potato and chard casserole last week, and you ate all your portion, exclaiming that it was the best thing I'd ever made. Of course, your favorite is sweets, and we have to limit those. If there's candy around, you'll find it and unwrap it, then laugh as you show me you're eating it. I nearly lost my cool today: I had baked the chocolate cake for your birthday, and when I briefly left the room, I saw that you had nicked a small piece from one of the layers.
You have recently decided that you hate pink and love only purple and teal, although you still dress yourself in pink when you have the option to choose your clothes. You actually are doing a lot more on your own lately -- taking off your Pull-up after bed, taking your jammies off, choosing your outfit and putting it on, getting your shoes on... And you have chores. We ask you to take your laundry to the washer, to put your books away in your room, to wipe the table after dinner, and now, to vacuum the living room rug. You actually seem happy and proud to help. I think it makes you feel grown-up.
You are capable of being very sweet. You love to cuddle, and even if you and I are doing different activities, say, if I'm on the computer and you're watching TV, you like to sit on my lap. You are working hard on using your manners and asking for things politely, although it's still a bit of a struggle.
And there are challenges, too. From the moment I could feel you kicking at about 4 months along, I knew you were more active and energetic than most kids. It is... noticeable. You really never slow down. A fellow preschooler's mom was kind enough to call you "kinetic" the other day. And there are times that you will talk nearly nonstop. And you are not so much a limit-tester as a boundary-knocker-downer and see what happens. If there is a limit, you won't simply test it, but hammer at it, sand-blast it, double-check it for faults, move it while we're not looking, and pole-vault over it and back. You have never heard "no" that you didn't come back with, "Well, actually..." or "what if...?" And you are a born negotiator. "I'll cuddle for five more minutes, but then I have to get up," I might say. You have never said, "Okay." Your answer is, "Firteen minutes!"
I love you dearly, and I wouldn't change a hair on your head for a million dollars, but you are a little exhausting sometimes.
Right now you are sleeping, curled up next to Dad, surely far over into his territory in the bed. Soon I'll move you to yours, and you'll probably sleep through the night. That's been true more often than not lately, and I'm appreciative of it. Your potty habits are getting much more regulated, and much more your responsibility. In terms of actual caring for you, there's not that much to do anymore -- you get the food to your mouth, dress yourself (sometimes multiple times per day), go to the bathroom -- but instructing you in life is another matter. Those conversations are harder and more serious every day, and I only hope I'm doing it right.
I love you very much,
Mom
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Almost three
I haven't blogged here in a long time, and I feel bad about it, but there are good reasons, too. First, I've got a two-year-old! I'm busy! You often drag out the bedtime process, then I have a tornado to clean up. Also, it's actually a lot harder to quantify and list al the progress you make now. It used to be "Hey look, you know twelve words," and now it's "Hey, listen to this story that shows you understand elements of rhetoric and persuasion!" And finally, I've been putting a lot of stuff on Facebook, so the little cute stories from day-to-day end up there.
However, I do keep this, or try to, as a record for you. So to list some of your accomplishments -- you have been doing really well in pre-school. For as crazy as you can be at home sometimes, you are the model student. Even when other kids push or grab toys, you are polite and restrained. At a recent birthday party, some boys were playing rough, and you opted to leave rather than push back (and voiced very clearly that you had made that decision).
Your language use is unbelievable. It's impossible to talk about your vocabulary any longer, because it surpasses any kid your age I've ever met. What I can talk about a little bit is your language use. I mean, your sentence structure is so sophisticated. You use complex, compound, complex-compound, and all kinds of appositives, parentheticals... I mean, your use of language shows a really amazing innate understanding of language structure. Even your mistakes show understanding of the rules. Like, if you say "I goed to school," it follows from the rule that past tense usually has an -ed ending. Same with pluralizing mouse as mouses. You're following the rules in cases where the words themselves break them. It's really smart, even though it's wrong. And you pick it up fast when you hear the rule. Yesterday I corrected you on "mice" vs. "mouses," and today you brought it up again: "One mouse, two mice."
Better than that, even, is what you use language to DO -- you tell the most amazing stories, describe dreamy musings, pretend to be different characters... And you love to play with language. Pig latin, rhymes, puns, and our favorite -- replacing some sounds with others, as in turning "Twinkle twinkle little star" to "binkle binkle bittle bar."
Physically, you're just about 37 inches now (a little less, perhaps, but it's hard to get a good measurement). You're getting so good at using a fork, drinking from a glass, jitterbugging with Boompah, climbing anywhere. You haven't gained a single pound in over a year now, although you've gotten so much taller.
Your memory is unbelievable. I have stopped recording all the times that you bring something up from six months ago. But a few days ago, you asked Grandma why she had planted flowers for your birthday party. That was almost a year ago, and Grandma swears you and she haven't talked about it since.
You are very sweet and affectionate. You like to help out. We recently gave you a chore -- wiping down your place at the table after we eat -- and you do it with enthusiasm. Potty training is almost finished. You still wear a diaper at night, and you have recalcitrant days where we have to change panties 5 or 6 times because you leaked a little, but we're not having many big accidents.
Maybe most amazing is that you're getting really close to reading. There are a handful of words you recognize, plus you can spell a few words. You know most of the letters and what sounds they make most of the time. We sometimes spell things out to keep them from you, and it's not going to work for long. Today we had this conversation.
Me (to Grandma): I think I might get her a P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S D-R-E-S-S for her birthday.
You: What's D-R-E-S-S?
Me and Grandma: Well... what sound does D make?
You: Duh.
Me: And what about R?
You: Ruh.
Grandma: What about E?
You: Uh....
Me: Let's skip that one. What about S?
You: Ssss.
Me: Well, what do those say when you put them together?
You: DRESS!
Anyway, you're a lot of fun almost all the time. You are also strong-willed and independent and argumentative, and sometimes that makes things really hard around here, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm really hoping that it carries you into adulthood and that you remain independent, as hard as that will sometimes be for all of us.
However, I do keep this, or try to, as a record for you. So to list some of your accomplishments -- you have been doing really well in pre-school. For as crazy as you can be at home sometimes, you are the model student. Even when other kids push or grab toys, you are polite and restrained. At a recent birthday party, some boys were playing rough, and you opted to leave rather than push back (and voiced very clearly that you had made that decision).
Your language use is unbelievable. It's impossible to talk about your vocabulary any longer, because it surpasses any kid your age I've ever met. What I can talk about a little bit is your language use. I mean, your sentence structure is so sophisticated. You use complex, compound, complex-compound, and all kinds of appositives, parentheticals... I mean, your use of language shows a really amazing innate understanding of language structure. Even your mistakes show understanding of the rules. Like, if you say "I goed to school," it follows from the rule that past tense usually has an -ed ending. Same with pluralizing mouse as mouses. You're following the rules in cases where the words themselves break them. It's really smart, even though it's wrong. And you pick it up fast when you hear the rule. Yesterday I corrected you on "mice" vs. "mouses," and today you brought it up again: "One mouse, two mice."
Better than that, even, is what you use language to DO -- you tell the most amazing stories, describe dreamy musings, pretend to be different characters... And you love to play with language. Pig latin, rhymes, puns, and our favorite -- replacing some sounds with others, as in turning "Twinkle twinkle little star" to "binkle binkle bittle bar."
Physically, you're just about 37 inches now (a little less, perhaps, but it's hard to get a good measurement). You're getting so good at using a fork, drinking from a glass, jitterbugging with Boompah, climbing anywhere. You haven't gained a single pound in over a year now, although you've gotten so much taller.
Your memory is unbelievable. I have stopped recording all the times that you bring something up from six months ago. But a few days ago, you asked Grandma why she had planted flowers for your birthday party. That was almost a year ago, and Grandma swears you and she haven't talked about it since.
You are very sweet and affectionate. You like to help out. We recently gave you a chore -- wiping down your place at the table after we eat -- and you do it with enthusiasm. Potty training is almost finished. You still wear a diaper at night, and you have recalcitrant days where we have to change panties 5 or 6 times because you leaked a little, but we're not having many big accidents.
Maybe most amazing is that you're getting really close to reading. There are a handful of words you recognize, plus you can spell a few words. You know most of the letters and what sounds they make most of the time. We sometimes spell things out to keep them from you, and it's not going to work for long. Today we had this conversation.
Me (to Grandma): I think I might get her a P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S D-R-E-S-S for her birthday.
You: What's D-R-E-S-S?
Me and Grandma: Well... what sound does D make?
You: Duh.
Me: And what about R?
You: Ruh.
Grandma: What about E?
You: Uh....
Me: Let's skip that one. What about S?
You: Ssss.
Me: Well, what do those say when you put them together?
You: DRESS!
Anyway, you're a lot of fun almost all the time. You are also strong-willed and independent and argumentative, and sometimes that makes things really hard around here, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm really hoping that it carries you into adulthood and that you remain independent, as hard as that will sometimes be for all of us.
Monday, June 28, 2010
2 years, 3 months
Hi darling,
I'm so sorry I haven't updated this in so long. When you're awake, I spend most of my time chasing after you, and when you're asleep, I try to get to the gym or tidy the house or grade papers or one of a thousand other things.
I have been recording a lot of what you do and say on my other blog, but I had a goal with this one, and that was to dedicate it to you and your progress so that someday you could read all about yourself if you choose to. Anyway, I'm sorry. Writing once a month isn't too hard to do, and I should make an effort to keep it up.
Well, the big news today is that we just got back from our annual trip to Eugene, Oregon. Everyone in our family commented on how tall you are, how beautiful you are, and especially how smart and verbal you are. I think your speech has changed and improved even in the last week. You use complex and compound (and compound-complex) sentences to express your ideas, you can tell little stories, you have funny new intonations... You suddenly sound incredibly... conversational. Today at the post office, you asked some stranger "How's it going?" She answered, "I'm pretty good, how are you?" You said "very well." While we were in Oregon, you asked why we couldn't see the crescent moon. We explained that sometimes we could see more of the moon than others. You said "Oh, well, I think it's broken. I think a monster took a bite of it." You've also gone from the typical two-year-old demands of "I want gum!" to "Can I have something? Well, I was thinking about gum." (Not that you don't sometimes still fuss and demand.)
You are also exceptionally interested in hearing other people talk and tell stories. You insist on us telling you stories all the time, and have on several occasions, right after I've kissed you goodnight, grabbed me and insisted, "talk to me!" You also demand to know what everyone is saying in the songs on the radio, and why they are saying it. Today we had a long conversation about why someone might hang their head, what they might have done to make them feel sad or ashamed, and how they might need their mommy to help them feel better. I sang you a snippet of "Hello, Goodbye" the other day, and you had a whole theory as to why the girl might tell the boy goodbye and no, and that maybe she didn't want to go on a date with him. You have strong feelings about "Tell Me Why," and you really want to know why the girl cried. I find this attention to lyrics especially interesting, because I am so interested in lyrics myself. People are always saying "Ooh, I love the way they use the zither in that song!" and I'll be like "the what?" But I know all the lyrics by heart.
We met your newest cousin (or first cousin once removed), Aidan, on this trip. He is 7 weeks old, and he waves his little hands around, occasionally getting them in just the right spot to keep his pacifier in, just as you did. But the contrast of how you move now is startling! Everything you do is so intentional. You insist on climbing up into your carseat by yourself. You put your shoes on and try hard to get the strap into the buckle. You can put Barbie shoes on -- not consistently, but often, and you do NOT want help. I even watched you in half-sleep one night as you tucked a doll into the crook of your arm, pulled the blanket up to your chin, and adjusted the pillow under your head. It kind of blew my mind -- just one year ago, we put you to sleep in a fleece bag because you couldn't pull up your blanket if you kicked it off by accident. Now you're practically making the bed.
One day a few weeks ago, I came home after you had spent some time with your dad, and you were both singing a little song. It was simple -- three descending "mmms," then a name like "Little Bear" or "Mama Bear" or "Papa Bear." I thought your dad had made it up and you had picked it up to copy him. Then you were singing the "helping hand" song, a song that neither your Grandma nor I can explain where it comes from. It always has the same melody and the same, slightly indecipherable, lyrics. I finally became convinced you had simply made it up, and I was telling your auntie that, when your dad piped in and said you had made up the Little Bear song, too. I'm sure many kids make up their own little songs, but this sort of makes my head explode, too. You've made up your own songs? I mean... wow.
You are the reigning queen of loopholes, by the way. We told you you couldn't say "go away" anymore, and that you'd have a time-out if you did. So you started just saying "go," then looking at us slyly. Sometimes you got to "go ahhh...." but then stopped. Then you started saying go away again, but you insisted each time that you hadn't been telling US to go away -- you had aimed your ire at Max, the imaginary elephant. You couldn't get in trouble if you weren't saying it to us, right? When we caught on and outlawed saying it even to our imaginary compatriots, you made up a third song. "I'm singing go away, go away, go away." Yeah, we banned that song. For a while, you tried other variations on the theme, like "Mo amay" and "fo afay." Then you started saying the "rain, rain, go away" rhyme, but really punching the "go away" part. Sometimes we have to work hard to keep a straight face at just how clever you are.
Well, you're awake from a nap now, and you are "doing some work" on a Barbie shoe. I'd better return to my normally scheduled life.
I love you more than you could ever imagine.
Mom
I'm so sorry I haven't updated this in so long. When you're awake, I spend most of my time chasing after you, and when you're asleep, I try to get to the gym or tidy the house or grade papers or one of a thousand other things.
I have been recording a lot of what you do and say on my other blog, but I had a goal with this one, and that was to dedicate it to you and your progress so that someday you could read all about yourself if you choose to. Anyway, I'm sorry. Writing once a month isn't too hard to do, and I should make an effort to keep it up.
Well, the big news today is that we just got back from our annual trip to Eugene, Oregon. Everyone in our family commented on how tall you are, how beautiful you are, and especially how smart and verbal you are. I think your speech has changed and improved even in the last week. You use complex and compound (and compound-complex) sentences to express your ideas, you can tell little stories, you have funny new intonations... You suddenly sound incredibly... conversational. Today at the post office, you asked some stranger "How's it going?" She answered, "I'm pretty good, how are you?" You said "very well." While we were in Oregon, you asked why we couldn't see the crescent moon. We explained that sometimes we could see more of the moon than others. You said "Oh, well, I think it's broken. I think a monster took a bite of it." You've also gone from the typical two-year-old demands of "I want gum!" to "Can I have something? Well, I was thinking about gum." (Not that you don't sometimes still fuss and demand.)
You are also exceptionally interested in hearing other people talk and tell stories. You insist on us telling you stories all the time, and have on several occasions, right after I've kissed you goodnight, grabbed me and insisted, "talk to me!" You also demand to know what everyone is saying in the songs on the radio, and why they are saying it. Today we had a long conversation about why someone might hang their head, what they might have done to make them feel sad or ashamed, and how they might need their mommy to help them feel better. I sang you a snippet of "Hello, Goodbye" the other day, and you had a whole theory as to why the girl might tell the boy goodbye and no, and that maybe she didn't want to go on a date with him. You have strong feelings about "Tell Me Why," and you really want to know why the girl cried. I find this attention to lyrics especially interesting, because I am so interested in lyrics myself. People are always saying "Ooh, I love the way they use the zither in that song!" and I'll be like "the what?" But I know all the lyrics by heart.
We met your newest cousin (or first cousin once removed), Aidan, on this trip. He is 7 weeks old, and he waves his little hands around, occasionally getting them in just the right spot to keep his pacifier in, just as you did. But the contrast of how you move now is startling! Everything you do is so intentional. You insist on climbing up into your carseat by yourself. You put your shoes on and try hard to get the strap into the buckle. You can put Barbie shoes on -- not consistently, but often, and you do NOT want help. I even watched you in half-sleep one night as you tucked a doll into the crook of your arm, pulled the blanket up to your chin, and adjusted the pillow under your head. It kind of blew my mind -- just one year ago, we put you to sleep in a fleece bag because you couldn't pull up your blanket if you kicked it off by accident. Now you're practically making the bed.
One day a few weeks ago, I came home after you had spent some time with your dad, and you were both singing a little song. It was simple -- three descending "mmms," then a name like "Little Bear" or "Mama Bear" or "Papa Bear." I thought your dad had made it up and you had picked it up to copy him. Then you were singing the "helping hand" song, a song that neither your Grandma nor I can explain where it comes from. It always has the same melody and the same, slightly indecipherable, lyrics. I finally became convinced you had simply made it up, and I was telling your auntie that, when your dad piped in and said you had made up the Little Bear song, too. I'm sure many kids make up their own little songs, but this sort of makes my head explode, too. You've made up your own songs? I mean... wow.
You are the reigning queen of loopholes, by the way. We told you you couldn't say "go away" anymore, and that you'd have a time-out if you did. So you started just saying "go," then looking at us slyly. Sometimes you got to "go ahhh...." but then stopped. Then you started saying go away again, but you insisted each time that you hadn't been telling US to go away -- you had aimed your ire at Max, the imaginary elephant. You couldn't get in trouble if you weren't saying it to us, right? When we caught on and outlawed saying it even to our imaginary compatriots, you made up a third song. "I'm singing go away, go away, go away." Yeah, we banned that song. For a while, you tried other variations on the theme, like "Mo amay" and "fo afay." Then you started saying the "rain, rain, go away" rhyme, but really punching the "go away" part. Sometimes we have to work hard to keep a straight face at just how clever you are.
Well, you're awake from a nap now, and you are "doing some work" on a Barbie shoe. I'd better return to my normally scheduled life.
I love you more than you could ever imagine.
Mom
Thursday, February 25, 2010
23 months!
Holy cow, I can't believe how fast the time passes.
I think the most interesting recent development is that you are telling jokes and playing pranks. For example, you've had your "one-two boobie" joke for months, but recently you asked what a babysitter was. Grandma explained, and you asked "Are you going to sit on a baby?" Grandma laughed, so you keep asking "Are you going to sit on a baby?"
Also, the other night I was walking in your room and I stepped on something hidden under your rug. I yelled "ouch!" I looked under the rug and there was a parasol. I pulled it out and set it aside. The next morning, "ouch!" again. I looked under the rug and there was the parasol. Apparently, you got into the car with Grandma and said "I put the umbrella under the rug again." Last night I asked you to tell a friend of mine what you'd been doing, and you totally admitted it: "I put the umbrella under the rug. Mama stepped on it. She said 'Ouch.'" Little prankster.
You are interested in longer stories now. You make up words. Like, you'll say, "Bazoop! What did I say?" You also think it's really funny to pretend to be a baby. You rarely grin wider than when I agree to feed you, or you crawl on the floor announcing "I'm a baby! Ga ga goo goo!"
You like the name game a lot, and I'll catch you singing "Boompah boompah bo boompah banana fanna fo foompah."
You try to help, like moving clean laundry from one pile to another as I fold it. You also helped put laundry in the washer once. And you like to pull shredded paper out of the shredder, then get the broom and sweep it around.
You're really excited that we can put pigtails in your hair, and you frequently ask for pigtails. You have also gotten a lot more interested in your wardrobe, and you'll ask to wear a particular outfit.
You're still an enormous eater. I think your new favorite food is mortadella, of all things. You're so active, though, that you burn off all that energy. In fact, you're still only 28 pounds. But you just hardly ever stop moving, bouncing, running, climbing...
As for nursing, it's on its way out. On Monday, you didn't nurse at all. You now nurse for just a few seconds before getting distracted. Or you'll tell me "Mama, you don't have any booby milk!" Until a few weeks ago, you still said I had milk, so I think it was the day without nursing that helped dry up my milk. I've planted a few suggestions about how big girls don't nurse, but I'm not pushing you. I also decided to stop taking my herbs when I run out this time, whether you're done or not. At this point, I think it's much more about comfort than milk anyway.
Next month is your birthday, and of course I've already gotten all your presents. Daddy and I are really excited about the stuff we picked out -- a ballet outfit, recycling truck, tool kit, a book called Flotsam, and a play tent.
I love you tremendously,
Mom
I think the most interesting recent development is that you are telling jokes and playing pranks. For example, you've had your "one-two boobie" joke for months, but recently you asked what a babysitter was. Grandma explained, and you asked "Are you going to sit on a baby?" Grandma laughed, so you keep asking "Are you going to sit on a baby?"
Also, the other night I was walking in your room and I stepped on something hidden under your rug. I yelled "ouch!" I looked under the rug and there was a parasol. I pulled it out and set it aside. The next morning, "ouch!" again. I looked under the rug and there was the parasol. Apparently, you got into the car with Grandma and said "I put the umbrella under the rug again." Last night I asked you to tell a friend of mine what you'd been doing, and you totally admitted it: "I put the umbrella under the rug. Mama stepped on it. She said 'Ouch.'" Little prankster.
You are interested in longer stories now. You make up words. Like, you'll say, "Bazoop! What did I say?" You also think it's really funny to pretend to be a baby. You rarely grin wider than when I agree to feed you, or you crawl on the floor announcing "I'm a baby! Ga ga goo goo!"
You like the name game a lot, and I'll catch you singing "Boompah boompah bo boompah banana fanna fo foompah."
You try to help, like moving clean laundry from one pile to another as I fold it. You also helped put laundry in the washer once. And you like to pull shredded paper out of the shredder, then get the broom and sweep it around.
You're really excited that we can put pigtails in your hair, and you frequently ask for pigtails. You have also gotten a lot more interested in your wardrobe, and you'll ask to wear a particular outfit.
You're still an enormous eater. I think your new favorite food is mortadella, of all things. You're so active, though, that you burn off all that energy. In fact, you're still only 28 pounds. But you just hardly ever stop moving, bouncing, running, climbing...
As for nursing, it's on its way out. On Monday, you didn't nurse at all. You now nurse for just a few seconds before getting distracted. Or you'll tell me "Mama, you don't have any booby milk!" Until a few weeks ago, you still said I had milk, so I think it was the day without nursing that helped dry up my milk. I've planted a few suggestions about how big girls don't nurse, but I'm not pushing you. I also decided to stop taking my herbs when I run out this time, whether you're done or not. At this point, I think it's much more about comfort than milk anyway.
Next month is your birthday, and of course I've already gotten all your presents. Daddy and I are really excited about the stuff we picked out -- a ballet outfit, recycling truck, tool kit, a book called Flotsam, and a play tent.
I love you tremendously,
Mom
Monday, January 25, 2010
22 months
Well, Zadie is 22 months old today. She has been more interested in potty training, though it's not at all consistent. A few days in a row, she won't have a wet diaper at all, and the next day she refuses to go anywhere near the potty. Weirdest of all, she seems to be holding her pee as long as she can to avoid going in her diaper or in the potty. I bought her some pull-ups, because poopy panties are pretty gross, so we can't really put her in panties full-time yet, but I didn't really like the expense or the earth-unfriendliness of the pull-ups, so I bought a few new cloth diaper covers. She can take as long as she wants to get fully potty-trained.
She got a HAUL for Christmas, including a pedal-less bike and a trike. Unfortunately, she can't reach the pedals on the trike or the ground on the bike, so she's not really motoring yet. Her favorite activities right now are going to Bounce Town and Art Beast, coloring, watching PBS kids shows, reading books (we got a bunch of great new ones at Christmas and on our trip to Santa Cruz), and playing with her xylophone and tea set. She also loves her Legos.
She is still really into girly stuff, playing with my jewelry, putting on my "fancy" shoes, asking for barrettes in her hair, and wanting her fingernails polished.
She is a big eater, and she LOVES smoothies, bacon, eggs, noodles, rice, and beans. She ate a whole kids meal at a Mexican place last night - a taco, beans, and rice. She also ate about half the chips and salsa, although she kept insisting "I don't like it very much... Push it here, I want some more."
She's kind of entering that terrible two phase. Most of the time, she's a ball of fun and sweetness, but she occasionally just... freaks out. She'll scream "I DON'T WANT SHOES ON! I WANT MY SHOES ON!" That kind of thing. There's just no pleasing her. Of course it's worse if she's tired or hungry. She has taken to telling us to "shoo." She even told me "I don't love you, Mama." Apparently she inherited my ability to say really hurtful shit. I know she doesn't mean it, though.
She is so much more coordinated these days. Like, she made a painting the other day that looked really intentional. Of course, she still trips right over her own feet a couple times a day, too.
She's also getting so big! For a survey about her health care provider, I just checked to see how tall she was, and she's 2' 9". All her old dresses are mini-skirts now. And looking at pictures from only a few months ago, it's obvious her hair keeps growing and growing! When I pour water on it in the bath, it touches her shoulders, although when it's dry it's so curly that it doesn't even touch the nape of her neck.
She's still nursing, although not as much as before. She backs off a little bit all the time. She'll even forget to nurse at her usual times completely, then when it's time for me to go to work or her to go to bed, she'll panic and be like "I need booby time!"
She took a Spanish class before Christmas and still runs around the house screaming "Arriba! Abajo!" There is another Spanish class coming up and a dance class, both for kids her age, so I'm hoping we can get her into one of those. I think she'd enjoy either.
Well, as you might be able to tell, I'm distracted by my very active toddler. I'd better go. I can't believe she's going to be two in 8 more weeks! I have a birthday party to plan...
She got a HAUL for Christmas, including a pedal-less bike and a trike. Unfortunately, she can't reach the pedals on the trike or the ground on the bike, so she's not really motoring yet. Her favorite activities right now are going to Bounce Town and Art Beast, coloring, watching PBS kids shows, reading books (we got a bunch of great new ones at Christmas and on our trip to Santa Cruz), and playing with her xylophone and tea set. She also loves her Legos.
She is still really into girly stuff, playing with my jewelry, putting on my "fancy" shoes, asking for barrettes in her hair, and wanting her fingernails polished.
She is a big eater, and she LOVES smoothies, bacon, eggs, noodles, rice, and beans. She ate a whole kids meal at a Mexican place last night - a taco, beans, and rice. She also ate about half the chips and salsa, although she kept insisting "I don't like it very much... Push it here, I want some more."
She's kind of entering that terrible two phase. Most of the time, she's a ball of fun and sweetness, but she occasionally just... freaks out. She'll scream "I DON'T WANT SHOES ON! I WANT MY SHOES ON!" That kind of thing. There's just no pleasing her. Of course it's worse if she's tired or hungry. She has taken to telling us to "shoo." She even told me "I don't love you, Mama." Apparently she inherited my ability to say really hurtful shit. I know she doesn't mean it, though.
She is so much more coordinated these days. Like, she made a painting the other day that looked really intentional. Of course, she still trips right over her own feet a couple times a day, too.
She's also getting so big! For a survey about her health care provider, I just checked to see how tall she was, and she's 2' 9". All her old dresses are mini-skirts now. And looking at pictures from only a few months ago, it's obvious her hair keeps growing and growing! When I pour water on it in the bath, it touches her shoulders, although when it's dry it's so curly that it doesn't even touch the nape of her neck.
She's still nursing, although not as much as before. She backs off a little bit all the time. She'll even forget to nurse at her usual times completely, then when it's time for me to go to work or her to go to bed, she'll panic and be like "I need booby time!"
She took a Spanish class before Christmas and still runs around the house screaming "Arriba! Abajo!" There is another Spanish class coming up and a dance class, both for kids her age, so I'm hoping we can get her into one of those. I think she'd enjoy either.
Well, as you might be able to tell, I'm distracted by my very active toddler. I'd better go. I can't believe she's going to be two in 8 more weeks! I have a birthday party to plan...
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