My dear Zoe,
It's been an amazing year for you. You had great successes at school, both in reading and in math. You broke your fear of math thanks to your teacher Mrs. Rasmussen, who noticed your anxiety, and approached me early in the year to join forces to help you beat it. And you did! In the standardized test you scored at Level 4, which is the highest level, meaning that you "Exceeded Expectations" both in verbal and math. Your report cards were just as impressive.
At Boys and Girls Club you were selected Youth of the Year.
You are a great friend, fair, empathetic, and a very decent human being.
I know I give you a hard time when you don't clean up your mess, or act bossy to your sister, but these are so small compared to your decency and grace.
Now about your birthday:
You wanted to have an Arts and Crafts themed birthday party in our back yard during the school year, so you could celebrate it also with friends who tend to go out of town in summer time. We decorated the back yard and set up various stations such as beading, glitter tattoo, paper arts, and sewing, and not to forget the all you can eat candy buffet. You'r not into creamy cakes, so we ordered an ice cream cake from Ben and Jerry's.
On your real birthday yesterday, you had a mini celebration at your summer camp, and then at home we had a family celebration. Echo wanted me to decorate the house extra birthdaylike, so we had a lot of balloons and streamers. and upon your request, a Chocolate Decadent cake. It feels more like a giant chocolate bar than a cake to us, but it seems to be your favorite. Because you are such a hungry reader, we got you your own Kindle so you can read all the books you want anywhere you go. You also asked for a notebook for your writing career. I picked a hard covered notebook so you can write on the go, without needing a hard surface to support you. It's pink, with a picture of a llama, decorated with wild flowers. I dedicated it to you:
For your continued adventures in writing.
Keep sailing away in the sea of words and imagination.
I'm your first and #1 reader and fan forever.
I love you!
Happy 9th birthday.
Mommy.
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Taking care of mom
My Love Zoe,
You had a pouch of fruit chews in your goody bag from a birthday party. You don't like those, and I do. "Mom, you can have the fruit chews since you like them," you said. I was preparing dinner and setting up the table, so I just thanked you, but didn't notice what you did with it. Next day I had a very busy time at work, attending one call after another, getting hungrier and hungrier as the hours went by. I was shuffling in my bag for a tangerine, and I saw the pouch - my salvation! Grateful, I ate up every piece.
I told you the story when I came home. "You snuck it in my bag, I didn't even notice," I said. It triggered something... I could tell you got excited. You stopped what you were doing, eyes focused and satisfied, came quickly to me. Are you going to have one of those many meeting days tomorrow,? you asked. Yes, I said and off you ran. Echo, who was quietly listening to the conversation, followed you. You both took candies from your candy buckets and started putting them in my bag. Echo also put some toys, excited, "I snuck it in!" she declared each time she put something new. You laughed, trying to explain that toys weren't necessary. I suggested we let her out those in as well, since it is a thoughtful thing to do.
You are so thoughtful and take such good care of mama! I love you!
Mommy.
Monday, May 1, 2017
Grandparents visit, early birthday celebration, playing catch-up with past events
My Love Zoe,
We patiently waited for your COGAT exam results. You were to be in the 98th percentile in 2 out of 7 scoring categories. Instead, you ended up being in the 97th percentile in 4 out of the 7 categories. We are so proud of you. You were so incredibly close. As recommended for a possible appeal, we took you to an independent psychologist, to get your intelligence and knowledge evaluated. Your reading comprehension and vocabulary is at 4th grade level. It's amazing. Your quantitative skills for COGAT were very high, at 97th percentile, but the test at the psychologist's office showed that we do not qualify for an appeal. Her test examined not just a natural quantitative ability, but also arithmetic knowledge. Yours was appropriate for your age, based on what you were being taught in school. We could sit and practice math every day, so your knowledge surpasses what is being taught at school. We bought some math workbooks for you, and we do the exercises occasionally, but we figured there's no point at pushing you to misery by doing math exercises all night. You are a so smart, content, and social. Basically you got all it takes to be happy and successful.
Early Birthday:
Being a summer baby was never an issue at daycare or preschool, but since school is off during the summers, this year we decide to celebrate your birthday at Spring. Papa and I sometimes meet for yoga during lunch. A couple of times when the school was closed we brought you along. You really liked the teacher Cosetta. You've also been reading her book of poetry. You asked if she could come to your birthday party to do a yoga class. She was very touched by your request and agreed. The anticipation of your birthday party made you so excited that we started the preparations weeks in advance. We went to various stores to pick your tableware, cake, party decorations, goody bags, invitation cards...
The day of the event our little house was packed with girls. Cosetta did an inspirational session, that focused on introspection, sharing, music and dance. The session followed by cake and snacks. The unusual experience rubbed everyone right and one could sense the friendship in the air. But as soon as Cosetta left, like a switch went on and all you girls went crazy with energy. You were all running up and down the stairs, playing tag and hide and seek, and building fortresses even in the upstairs bathroom and your parents' walk-in closet. Echo joined in all the activities in her own way, at times observing, at times playing along. When everyone was gone, your good friend Geniva stayed longer and the three of you slipped into your metaphorical pajamas, opened the gifts, and played in harmony as you always do.
Grandparents' Visit:
For the first time, this was a very special visit for you. Up until now, you were too young to enjoy their visit. While you like the change and opening of gifts, at some point, you wanted things to go back to normal, with just the three, and then the four of us. But this time, you enjoyed your grandparents' attention, conversation and love, and you were sorry to see them go. Many times they picked you up from school, and took you to the ice cream store or to the coffee shop for some hot coco or chicken noodle soup, or pizza. Sometime they made you eat all of those things at once, which made me mad. "One poison per day," I said. You understood.
I love you my little summer girl. Can't wait to celebrate your real birthday this summer.
Mommy
We patiently waited for your COGAT exam results. You were to be in the 98th percentile in 2 out of 7 scoring categories. Instead, you ended up being in the 97th percentile in 4 out of the 7 categories. We are so proud of you. You were so incredibly close. As recommended for a possible appeal, we took you to an independent psychologist, to get your intelligence and knowledge evaluated. Your reading comprehension and vocabulary is at 4th grade level. It's amazing. Your quantitative skills for COGAT were very high, at 97th percentile, but the test at the psychologist's office showed that we do not qualify for an appeal. Her test examined not just a natural quantitative ability, but also arithmetic knowledge. Yours was appropriate for your age, based on what you were being taught in school. We could sit and practice math every day, so your knowledge surpasses what is being taught at school. We bought some math workbooks for you, and we do the exercises occasionally, but we figured there's no point at pushing you to misery by doing math exercises all night. You are a so smart, content, and social. Basically you got all it takes to be happy and successful.
Early Birthday:
Being a summer baby was never an issue at daycare or preschool, but since school is off during the summers, this year we decide to celebrate your birthday at Spring. Papa and I sometimes meet for yoga during lunch. A couple of times when the school was closed we brought you along. You really liked the teacher Cosetta. You've also been reading her book of poetry. You asked if she could come to your birthday party to do a yoga class. She was very touched by your request and agreed. The anticipation of your birthday party made you so excited that we started the preparations weeks in advance. We went to various stores to pick your tableware, cake, party decorations, goody bags, invitation cards...
The day of the event our little house was packed with girls. Cosetta did an inspirational session, that focused on introspection, sharing, music and dance. The session followed by cake and snacks. The unusual experience rubbed everyone right and one could sense the friendship in the air. But as soon as Cosetta left, like a switch went on and all you girls went crazy with energy. You were all running up and down the stairs, playing tag and hide and seek, and building fortresses even in the upstairs bathroom and your parents' walk-in closet. Echo joined in all the activities in her own way, at times observing, at times playing along. When everyone was gone, your good friend Geniva stayed longer and the three of you slipped into your metaphorical pajamas, opened the gifts, and played in harmony as you always do.
Grandparents' Visit:
For the first time, this was a very special visit for you. Up until now, you were too young to enjoy their visit. While you like the change and opening of gifts, at some point, you wanted things to go back to normal, with just the three, and then the four of us. But this time, you enjoyed your grandparents' attention, conversation and love, and you were sorry to see them go. Many times they picked you up from school, and took you to the ice cream store or to the coffee shop for some hot coco or chicken noodle soup, or pizza. Sometime they made you eat all of those things at once, which made me mad. "One poison per day," I said. You understood.
I love you my little summer girl. Can't wait to celebrate your real birthday this summer.
Mommy
Saturday, December 17, 2016
Cookies and tests, brains
My love Zoe,
Given the sub optimal public education system in Seattle, many parents explore additional public education services to supplement your standard learning. Two programs are Advanced Learning and Highly Capable Cohort. To be eligible for either one of these programs, first you need to take a screening test, and if you score in the top 94th percentile, you take the real qualification test.
We knew we had to prepare you for these tests, but we didn't want to make you nervous or stressed. You spend full days at school ,and when you come home you want to relax, and we knew it could be too much. So we decided to make it fun. Papa bought some practice tests, and I bought some cookies. When you came home from school one day, you found a plate with a big cookie and a cold glass of milk waiting for you next to the computer. You sat down with papa and practiced. We did this evening after evening, with different cookies. We called it a game. Your goal was to win the game, and we were measuring the effect of cookies on your performance. Which cookies were making you perform better. When things would get heated up, I'd switch with dad, and continue your practice. Of course, after a while, things would heat up with me. It's so hard to stay calm when we want you to do well, and you make a silly mistake or don't pay attention. I also know that it is too much to ask from a six year old, full of life and energy - to sit and answer questions after a long day at school. One thing I'm sure of, you were a great sport. You bore with it, and we all did our best.
Exam day came. We all drove down to a school in South Seattle. Kids in the waiting hall were sitting quietly next to their parents. One girl was playing chess with her dad. All the kids were calm, except for ours. You and Echo were running around, moving from seat to seat. We were the only ones who spilled their drink. We can't compete with these families, papa and I thought. You two light up the space with energy. You are not mellow, with a mysterious ability to ignore stimuli.
It was your time to go in to the exam room. We stayed in the waiting hall, entertaining Echo. Then kids started coming out at varying intervals. Finally you stepped out, content and relaxed. You mentioned that there was a problem with your booklet but that they fixed it. We were not going to let that info slide after the effort we all put into it. I went to speak to the supervisor who explained that your booklet had extra pages with extra questions. You noticed the problem and raised your hand to alert them! He said they fixed the problem for the time being, and they separated your booklet from the pile to make sure it is further fixed so the computer can scan it. "This never happened before," he added, which to me meant, they had no process already in place to fix it. I told him that I needed to be further reassured that it will be fixed, so I needed to know how. I suggested that they copy your answers to another booklet in my presence. He wanted to hold off on that, to explore other options. I wasn't rude, but I was persistent. I added, as a concerned mother, that for the system, Zoe is one of the thousands of kids taking this exam, whereas for me, she is the one. He understood me. He said his name was Tom, and volunteered to give his cell number. I eyed his badge for a last name, but that too only said Tom. He told me to call him on Tuesday, after he talks to the school district office. It was way past lunch time, and we were starving. We drove to a pizzeria nearby where I asked dad to go back and talk to Tom. Not having a last name worried me. What if he didn't answer the phone... There are so many Toms. On Tuesday, I called Tom. He said that they decided to copy the answers to another booklet in the presence of a witness. He said something polite about understanding the type of person I am and offered to meet so I can compare the answers in both booklets and see if they were copied right. I gave a sigh of relief that he offered it first. I didn't need to explain myself to this guy. He already knew me. He said he would have wanted the same if it were his child.
Next Saturday, I drove back down to the same school to meet Tom and inspect the booklets. The answers were copied correctly. We were focusing only on the answers, but I was trying to glance at the questions as best I could to get a sense of how well you did. Your verbal and math were impressive, but I saw errors in the analytical section - consistent with your practice test results. Then the waiting period started. Were you going to qualify for the real test?
A couple of nights ago I logged in to the website and saw that your real test is scheduled for January 7! I called papa and we went crazy. We ran to your room and tried hard to wake you up and celebrate. You are such a deep sleeper! We hugged you and told you that you that you passed. We still don't know your score, but we know that you must have scored in the 94th percentile (top 6% of students) to qualify for the real test. And you did! Now we need to start practicing for it. It's going to be a 3 hour long test. It's insane to expect 6 year olds to concentrate for that long. We promised you we would do the cookie experiment again while we practice. We also promised to do anything you want and go anywhere you want after the exam. You are such a smart little girl with a gem of a brain. Everyone who interacts with you closely notices that about you. Your class teacher during the parent-teacher conference said "what I like most about Zoe is how her brain works."
It's going to be tougher to pass the full test. The passing requirements are higher (top 5% in verbal and math + top 2% in at least 1 of the 3 categories), and you'll be competing against the very best who already passed the first test! From what we hear, a lot of the kids will be on the autism spectrum with great ability to focus on single things but with limited social skills... If you don't meet the required criteria, nothing bad will happen. You will still be my happy, smart and charming Zoe. You might actually end up being a happier child if you don't qualify, or we can try again next year.
I love you!
Mommy
Given the sub optimal public education system in Seattle, many parents explore additional public education services to supplement your standard learning. Two programs are Advanced Learning and Highly Capable Cohort. To be eligible for either one of these programs, first you need to take a screening test, and if you score in the top 94th percentile, you take the real qualification test.
We knew we had to prepare you for these tests, but we didn't want to make you nervous or stressed. You spend full days at school ,and when you come home you want to relax, and we knew it could be too much. So we decided to make it fun. Papa bought some practice tests, and I bought some cookies. When you came home from school one day, you found a plate with a big cookie and a cold glass of milk waiting for you next to the computer. You sat down with papa and practiced. We did this evening after evening, with different cookies. We called it a game. Your goal was to win the game, and we were measuring the effect of cookies on your performance. Which cookies were making you perform better. When things would get heated up, I'd switch with dad, and continue your practice. Of course, after a while, things would heat up with me. It's so hard to stay calm when we want you to do well, and you make a silly mistake or don't pay attention. I also know that it is too much to ask from a six year old, full of life and energy - to sit and answer questions after a long day at school. One thing I'm sure of, you were a great sport. You bore with it, and we all did our best.
Exam day came. We all drove down to a school in South Seattle. Kids in the waiting hall were sitting quietly next to their parents. One girl was playing chess with her dad. All the kids were calm, except for ours. You and Echo were running around, moving from seat to seat. We were the only ones who spilled their drink. We can't compete with these families, papa and I thought. You two light up the space with energy. You are not mellow, with a mysterious ability to ignore stimuli.
It was your time to go in to the exam room. We stayed in the waiting hall, entertaining Echo. Then kids started coming out at varying intervals. Finally you stepped out, content and relaxed. You mentioned that there was a problem with your booklet but that they fixed it. We were not going to let that info slide after the effort we all put into it. I went to speak to the supervisor who explained that your booklet had extra pages with extra questions. You noticed the problem and raised your hand to alert them! He said they fixed the problem for the time being, and they separated your booklet from the pile to make sure it is further fixed so the computer can scan it. "This never happened before," he added, which to me meant, they had no process already in place to fix it. I told him that I needed to be further reassured that it will be fixed, so I needed to know how. I suggested that they copy your answers to another booklet in my presence. He wanted to hold off on that, to explore other options. I wasn't rude, but I was persistent. I added, as a concerned mother, that for the system, Zoe is one of the thousands of kids taking this exam, whereas for me, she is the one. He understood me. He said his name was Tom, and volunteered to give his cell number. I eyed his badge for a last name, but that too only said Tom. He told me to call him on Tuesday, after he talks to the school district office. It was way past lunch time, and we were starving. We drove to a pizzeria nearby where I asked dad to go back and talk to Tom. Not having a last name worried me. What if he didn't answer the phone... There are so many Toms. On Tuesday, I called Tom. He said that they decided to copy the answers to another booklet in the presence of a witness. He said something polite about understanding the type of person I am and offered to meet so I can compare the answers in both booklets and see if they were copied right. I gave a sigh of relief that he offered it first. I didn't need to explain myself to this guy. He already knew me. He said he would have wanted the same if it were his child.
Next Saturday, I drove back down to the same school to meet Tom and inspect the booklets. The answers were copied correctly. We were focusing only on the answers, but I was trying to glance at the questions as best I could to get a sense of how well you did. Your verbal and math were impressive, but I saw errors in the analytical section - consistent with your practice test results. Then the waiting period started. Were you going to qualify for the real test?
A couple of nights ago I logged in to the website and saw that your real test is scheduled for January 7! I called papa and we went crazy. We ran to your room and tried hard to wake you up and celebrate. You are such a deep sleeper! We hugged you and told you that you that you passed. We still don't know your score, but we know that you must have scored in the 94th percentile (top 6% of students) to qualify for the real test. And you did! Now we need to start practicing for it. It's going to be a 3 hour long test. It's insane to expect 6 year olds to concentrate for that long. We promised you we would do the cookie experiment again while we practice. We also promised to do anything you want and go anywhere you want after the exam. You are such a smart little girl with a gem of a brain. Everyone who interacts with you closely notices that about you. Your class teacher during the parent-teacher conference said "what I like most about Zoe is how her brain works."
It's going to be tougher to pass the full test. The passing requirements are higher (top 5% in verbal and math + top 2% in at least 1 of the 3 categories), and you'll be competing against the very best who already passed the first test! From what we hear, a lot of the kids will be on the autism spectrum with great ability to focus on single things but with limited social skills... If you don't meet the required criteria, nothing bad will happen. You will still be my happy, smart and charming Zoe. You might actually end up being a happier child if you don't qualify, or we can try again next year.
I love you!
Mommy
Friday, August 19, 2016
First lost tooth, and your 6th birthday
My lovely Zoe,
Last night, you finally lost your first tooth! Big excitement, after long waiting. "Mom I lost my tooth! I lost my tooth!" We were all so happy, and all over you. Echo didn't quite know what was going on. Confused, she pointed at her mouth "I lost tooth!" We took pictures of your gap, your fallen tooth, and your joyful face.
You waited so long for this moment. All your friends have been losing their teeth, walking around with gaps in their mouth, getting tooth necklaces at school, and tooth fairy gifts from their parents. You really wanted to loose a tooth before summer vacation, so you could get a tooth necklace from your teacher, but it didn't pan out.
A couple of days ago you came to me scared and in tears, because you discovered that your permanent teeth were growing in parallel to your wobbly baby teeth at the lower front of your mouth. I calmed you down, saying that it sure happens to some kids, and right away, scheduled an appointment with the dentist. Echo cheered you up on the dentist's chair with her hugs, while waiting for the dentist. The dentist told you to move your already wobbly teeth several times a day.
Sure enough, two days later, the tooth was gone. It was past 9pm, and I didn't have a gift from the tooth fairy at hand. We all jumped in the car and went to the store, not telling you the real reason. I went in to pick a fun toy for you, while you all waited in the car. At home, we put your tooth in the Tooth Fairy pillow. When you went to bed, I put the gift on your bed as well, which you found in the morning. It's a fun toy.
I also picked a cute backpack for Echo, shaped like a penguin. It's always an emotional dance between teaching you girls to accept someone else's spotlight and making you happy. Tonight we will play together with your new toy.
One more thing I'd like you to remember from this summer - we celebrated your birthday at a chocolate factory!
I love you!
Mommy.
Last night, you finally lost your first tooth! Big excitement, after long waiting. "Mom I lost my tooth! I lost my tooth!" We were all so happy, and all over you. Echo didn't quite know what was going on. Confused, she pointed at her mouth "I lost tooth!" We took pictures of your gap, your fallen tooth, and your joyful face.
You waited so long for this moment. All your friends have been losing their teeth, walking around with gaps in their mouth, getting tooth necklaces at school, and tooth fairy gifts from their parents. You really wanted to loose a tooth before summer vacation, so you could get a tooth necklace from your teacher, but it didn't pan out.
A couple of days ago you came to me scared and in tears, because you discovered that your permanent teeth were growing in parallel to your wobbly baby teeth at the lower front of your mouth. I calmed you down, saying that it sure happens to some kids, and right away, scheduled an appointment with the dentist. Echo cheered you up on the dentist's chair with her hugs, while waiting for the dentist. The dentist told you to move your already wobbly teeth several times a day.
Sure enough, two days later, the tooth was gone. It was past 9pm, and I didn't have a gift from the tooth fairy at hand. We all jumped in the car and went to the store, not telling you the real reason. I went in to pick a fun toy for you, while you all waited in the car. At home, we put your tooth in the Tooth Fairy pillow. When you went to bed, I put the gift on your bed as well, which you found in the morning. It's a fun toy.
I also picked a cute backpack for Echo, shaped like a penguin. It's always an emotional dance between teaching you girls to accept someone else's spotlight and making you happy. Tonight we will play together with your new toy.
One more thing I'd like you to remember from this summer - we celebrated your birthday at a chocolate factory!
I love you!
Mommy.
Friday, June 17, 2016
Swimming in Hawaii
My lovely Zoe,
You finally beat your fear of swimming unaided. Another one to your chain of achievements this Spring. You missed out on snorkeling and ocean fun on a boat during the first days of our Hawaii vacation. We tried to help you, convince you and even force you a little. We had a number of fears to beat: drowning, putting your face in the water, and lastly, the fear of fish. At some point, papa and I gave up, so we can all have a pleasant time, and let you hang in the pool with floaties while we took turns, doing other things while one of us kept you company. Echo enjoyed everything we did in the water, be it in the ocean or the pool, so she tagged along. You and I also made a deal, that in our last day, you will swim unaided. At some point you started to show interest in learning how to swim, and we started counting seconds, to see how long you could float. You beat your first fear - drowning - and we were so proud. You didn't leave it at that. You started playing with your friends going under the water. I never thought I'd see this anytime soon.
"Mom, can I try something in the water?"
"Yes, you can try anything in the water."
"She'll try to swim through the loop of the railing under the water," said one of your friends.
I realized that I spoke too soon. "Oh, that's not what I was expecting. Let me get in the position to save you," I said, and I took off my glasses and flipflops, and sat on the edge of the pool.
The other mom, who did not let her daughter try, now felt obligated to change her mind, and told her daughter to take off her hat if she was going to try that. You dove in, passed your whole body through the loop, and came out proud. And so was I. Nothing like self determination and example of peers who try things we shy away from.
By the time our vacation ended, you were still afraid of the fish, so you didn't get to enjoy the ocean much, but at least you started playing with the waves. I'm sure next time we are in Hawaii, you'll have the time of your life snorkeling and swimming with the fishies. In the meantime, you can swim!!!
Love,
Mommy.
You finally beat your fear of swimming unaided. Another one to your chain of achievements this Spring. You missed out on snorkeling and ocean fun on a boat during the first days of our Hawaii vacation. We tried to help you, convince you and even force you a little. We had a number of fears to beat: drowning, putting your face in the water, and lastly, the fear of fish. At some point, papa and I gave up, so we can all have a pleasant time, and let you hang in the pool with floaties while we took turns, doing other things while one of us kept you company. Echo enjoyed everything we did in the water, be it in the ocean or the pool, so she tagged along. You and I also made a deal, that in our last day, you will swim unaided. At some point you started to show interest in learning how to swim, and we started counting seconds, to see how long you could float. You beat your first fear - drowning - and we were so proud. You didn't leave it at that. You started playing with your friends going under the water. I never thought I'd see this anytime soon.
"Mom, can I try something in the water?"
"Yes, you can try anything in the water."
"She'll try to swim through the loop of the railing under the water," said one of your friends.
I realized that I spoke too soon. "Oh, that's not what I was expecting. Let me get in the position to save you," I said, and I took off my glasses and flipflops, and sat on the edge of the pool.
The other mom, who did not let her daughter try, now felt obligated to change her mind, and told her daughter to take off her hat if she was going to try that. You dove in, passed your whole body through the loop, and came out proud. And so was I. Nothing like self determination and example of peers who try things we shy away from.
By the time our vacation ended, you were still afraid of the fish, so you didn't get to enjoy the ocean much, but at least you started playing with the waves. I'm sure next time we are in Hawaii, you'll have the time of your life snorkeling and swimming with the fishies. In the meantime, you can swim!!!
Love,
Mommy.
Monday, May 23, 2016
One breakthrough after another
My beautiful Zoe,
Spring brought a Zoe that's daring and persistent. You've been going through many breakthroughs. You mastered the monkey bars, you learned to scooter like a pro, and bike without training wheels. And you learned how to read.
As the weather warmed up, we started seeing more children on scooters on the way to school. I think seeing your friends on scooters, rather than just random kids, was a motivator. You started asking to scoot to school too, something you never volunteered to do, and protested when we offered. We got your scooter 2 years a go, as a birthday gift for me. I was pregnant with Echo, and I asked dad for 2 scooters - one for you and one for me, hoping we would scoot around the lake together, since I was too pregnant to run. And now, 2 years later, you outgrew it. Dad and I were all too eager to buy you a new one. As much as we would have liked to make you ask for it, and maybe wait for it a bit, so you learn to value it, we were excited for you, and ordered a very cool scooter - pink, with scull pictures. It took you less than a week to get comfortable on it. In parallel, you've been practicing the monkey bars at the school play ground, and occasionally mentioning at home your progress. I knew it made you unhappy to see that other kids could jump from one bar to the next, while you couldn't. Why did it take me longer than other kids, you asked. I tried to explain that we are all good at different things, though I knew it bothered you. But once you put your mind to it, within days, you became a monkey too.
I was happy and proud, and seeing how you scooter, I knew that if you dared, you could also bike. So I started telling in a fun, excited way, that if you scoot so well, you totally know how to bike without training wheels, because scootering is so much harder. The evening before Mothers Day I saw your writing assignment where you wrote in your kindergarten style "my mom is nice because she encourages me to bike." Another one of the best gifts, given unawares. "I know what I want for Mother's Day," I declared. I want Zoe to ride her bike without training wheels. You paused. "Do you want to try it now?" jumped papa, excited. I priceless expression of wish, excitement and awareness of the challenge swept your face, and you quickly got ready. I continued with dinner preparations when a few minutes later papa called saying "you should come and see this." I grabbed Echo, and ran outside to see you pedal away, without training wheels, papa filming your achievement. Proud, everyone.
You are going through a breakthrough, I said, listing all your recent achievements. You wanted to know what "breakthrough" meant. A few days later, you were telling me all the things you are now able to do - "I must be going through a breakdown," you said. You've always practiced new things you learned. "Breakthrough," I corrected. "You are going through a breakthrough." You are also reading so well. Some nights at bed time we pretend I'm the child and you are the mom, and I refuse to go to bed unless you read me a book. You love this game, and you read to me. I wish we could play it more often, but it's just so hard to find time for it all, especially the way you and Echo just don't go to bed. All the kids are asleep, but the two of you are still up.
I love you and I am so proud of you, always. On top of it all, you are an amazing big sister to Echo. You are her "Ayi" and my Zoe.
Love, Mommy.
Spring brought a Zoe that's daring and persistent. You've been going through many breakthroughs. You mastered the monkey bars, you learned to scooter like a pro, and bike without training wheels. And you learned how to read.
As the weather warmed up, we started seeing more children on scooters on the way to school. I think seeing your friends on scooters, rather than just random kids, was a motivator. You started asking to scoot to school too, something you never volunteered to do, and protested when we offered. We got your scooter 2 years a go, as a birthday gift for me. I was pregnant with Echo, and I asked dad for 2 scooters - one for you and one for me, hoping we would scoot around the lake together, since I was too pregnant to run. And now, 2 years later, you outgrew it. Dad and I were all too eager to buy you a new one. As much as we would have liked to make you ask for it, and maybe wait for it a bit, so you learn to value it, we were excited for you, and ordered a very cool scooter - pink, with scull pictures. It took you less than a week to get comfortable on it. In parallel, you've been practicing the monkey bars at the school play ground, and occasionally mentioning at home your progress. I knew it made you unhappy to see that other kids could jump from one bar to the next, while you couldn't. Why did it take me longer than other kids, you asked. I tried to explain that we are all good at different things, though I knew it bothered you. But once you put your mind to it, within days, you became a monkey too.
I was happy and proud, and seeing how you scooter, I knew that if you dared, you could also bike. So I started telling in a fun, excited way, that if you scoot so well, you totally know how to bike without training wheels, because scootering is so much harder. The evening before Mothers Day I saw your writing assignment where you wrote in your kindergarten style "my mom is nice because she encourages me to bike." Another one of the best gifts, given unawares. "I know what I want for Mother's Day," I declared. I want Zoe to ride her bike without training wheels. You paused. "Do you want to try it now?" jumped papa, excited. I priceless expression of wish, excitement and awareness of the challenge swept your face, and you quickly got ready. I continued with dinner preparations when a few minutes later papa called saying "you should come and see this." I grabbed Echo, and ran outside to see you pedal away, without training wheels, papa filming your achievement. Proud, everyone.
You are going through a breakthrough, I said, listing all your recent achievements. You wanted to know what "breakthrough" meant. A few days later, you were telling me all the things you are now able to do - "I must be going through a breakdown," you said. You've always practiced new things you learned. "Breakthrough," I corrected. "You are going through a breakthrough." You are also reading so well. Some nights at bed time we pretend I'm the child and you are the mom, and I refuse to go to bed unless you read me a book. You love this game, and you read to me. I wish we could play it more often, but it's just so hard to find time for it all, especially the way you and Echo just don't go to bed. All the kids are asleep, but the two of you are still up.
I love you and I am so proud of you, always. On top of it all, you are an amazing big sister to Echo. You are her "Ayi" and my Zoe.
Love, Mommy.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
5th birthday, summer of camps and becoming an observant little smarty pants
My Dear Zoe,
It was your friend Charlie's birthday. Here is a short conversation between you and Charlie's mom that captures your essence - your intelligence, concise articulation, and emotional depth. I am very lucky to have a special daughter like you.
Zoe: My mom got me the same gift she got for Charlie.
Charlie's mom: Is it because you loved it so much?
Zoe: No, it's because she loves me so much.
We celebrated your 5th birthday at the Greenlake Park and Wading Pool with a ton of bunnies to pat. I wanted you to have a special birthday experience. After exploring multiple options, your love of bunnies was just the right clue. I contacted a service that brings bunnies to birthday parties, and there they were! Several crates of bunnies. I wrote the details in your birthday card, which I put in your memory box.
You like the idea of having a memory box. We each have one. You make special artwork for me and tell me it's for my memory box. You also love art, and know that I love the art you make. You know I want to be a grandmother one day. I think it worries you a little because you don't want to give birth, because it hurts. "I think I'll let Echo give you babies. I'll give you art." It works for me, as long as you are happy. But then you'll have to give up the inexplicable satisfaction of having something like you and Echo in your life.
You've been spending the month of August in camps. You go to a different camp every week. This week is Frozen themed ballet camp, which is close to Echo's school. We drop her off first, and you look so big and act so mature next to her little classmates. Hard to digest that you've grown so much. Next week is Little Explorers Nature Camp.
It's almost the weekend! No work, no camp, just us the family.
Love,
Mommy
It was your friend Charlie's birthday. Here is a short conversation between you and Charlie's mom that captures your essence - your intelligence, concise articulation, and emotional depth. I am very lucky to have a special daughter like you.
Zoe: My mom got me the same gift she got for Charlie.
Charlie's mom: Is it because you loved it so much?
Zoe: No, it's because she loves me so much.
We celebrated your 5th birthday at the Greenlake Park and Wading Pool with a ton of bunnies to pat. I wanted you to have a special birthday experience. After exploring multiple options, your love of bunnies was just the right clue. I contacted a service that brings bunnies to birthday parties, and there they were! Several crates of bunnies. I wrote the details in your birthday card, which I put in your memory box.
You like the idea of having a memory box. We each have one. You make special artwork for me and tell me it's for my memory box. You also love art, and know that I love the art you make. You know I want to be a grandmother one day. I think it worries you a little because you don't want to give birth, because it hurts. "I think I'll let Echo give you babies. I'll give you art." It works for me, as long as you are happy. But then you'll have to give up the inexplicable satisfaction of having something like you and Echo in your life.
You've been spending the month of August in camps. You go to a different camp every week. This week is Frozen themed ballet camp, which is close to Echo's school. We drop her off first, and you look so big and act so mature next to her little classmates. Hard to digest that you've grown so much. Next week is Little Explorers Nature Camp.
It's almost the weekend! No work, no camp, just us the family.
Love,
Mommy
Saturday, July 4, 2015
Graduation and mama chat
My Dear Zoe,
My plan was to end your blog when I started your sister's, but I miss talking to the grown-up you. So once in a while, I'll be coming here for a chat.
My plan was to end your blog when I started your sister's, but I miss talking to the grown-up you. So once in a while, I'll be coming here for a chat.
In less than 2 weeks, you'll turn 5. We
just celebrated your Preschool graduation. Here is a picture of you with your
friends Geniva and Olivia. You're smart. I hope you take advantage of that and
study. You're an interesting girl. You are very nice, in that you don't make
fun of your friends or laugh at them. You question things intelligently and
logically. But you are afraid of trying things and you don't push yourself. you
don't willingly take on a challenge to achieve something you actually can.
Maybe it's a phase. I just don't want fear to get in your way.
In September, you'll start kindergarten at Daniel Bagley. I know
you'll do great. You are very social.
Since Echo's birth, our time together has
naturally decreased. When you ask to play, and you always do, it makes me sad
to say no. I try to engage you in activities we all can do together, like
helping me in the kitchen, or going on a bike ride while I run next to you,
pushing Echo, chatting while I'm preparing meals for the next day, but you are
mostly interested in role play. I do my best, but it's not as often as you
want. It surprises me that you are not interested in outdoor activities. Many
times the surprise turns into disbelief and I feel upset - why don't you want
to be running around outside, especially when the weather is beautiful. I get
upset when you say you're afraid of bugs. I remind myself that not everyone has
to like what I think is fun. Maybe it's a phase, maybe it's the new generation
of kids, maybe it's just who you are. And it's fine, as long as fear doesn't
hold you back. I've never been into irrational fear, so it's hard to sympathize
at an instinct level. But I remind myself that perhaps I've forgotten what it
is to be a little kid, or perhaps I had greater threats and fears to manage as
a kid, so the fears you have, never entered the picture. But maybe there is a
dose of fear we all have to experience, and kids of stable families, have
trivial fears... A crazy theory. Socially, you are fearless, and you make us so
proud. Wherever we go, if there's a girl more or less your age, you go up to
her and try to start friendship. At a coffee shop, you can order your own, and
if you have a question at an exhibit, a restaurant or anywhere, you raise your
voice and ask. And you always have great questions.
You love me. More than you love papa. And
he'll agree. And I love you very much. I hope we stay close always. We'll talk
again in a few days, when you turn five.
Love,
Mommy
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
You are 4 years old and a big sister
My Dear Zoe,
You waited long for these two days. For the day you'd be a big sister and for your 4th birthday. "I want a sister so I have someone to play with," you said. And everyday toward the end of my pregnancy you asked if we were going to the hospital "now". Every "not yet" was a big disappointment, until Echo finally arrived. You watched her birth in the hospital, one eye on the show that was playing on your tablet, the other on the birth scene. "Mom! A baby just came out of your snooch!" you exclaimed, when the doctor pulled out Echo.
The next day, as soon as we got home from the hospital, you set up a tea party for you and Echo. Against your expectations, a new born Echo does not make an ideal playmate, but we still have our fun together. You love it when I hold Echo toward your chest as if she is look for milk. "No Echo, I don't have milk in my boob," you say, and ask me to "do it again." You have a blast when I make Echo inquire about what you're eating, and ask you to put a bite in her mouth. "Put it right here," she says, pointing her hand to her mouth. "No Echo, you can't eat yet. You can only have mama's milk," you say, and of course, ask me to "do it again!"
The challenge with your birthday was your unfamiliarity with the concept of time. seasons, months, weeks ended up being confusing concepts to describe when your birthday is going to be. You knew your birthday was in summer time. "It's not supposed to be chilly today. It's summer! I said" "Is it summer today??? you asked. "It's supposed to be, but it certainly doesn't feel like it," I said. "Is it my birthday?!" you asked with excitement. "No," I said. "Your birthday is in July 15, and tried to explain to you that Summer lasts more than one day. You knew your birthday was in July, When your friend Maja had her birthday a week before yours, you were in tears, thinking you could not have a birthday in July, because now Maja took your place. Almost everyday you asked me if it was your birthday. It is frustrating to hear that question daily, and have to say no to your sad little face, disappointed as if I didn't keep my promise.
Finally the day arrived. Including your extended family, we all put extra effort into your birthday this year, probably to make sure you still feel special, given that you're not an only child anymore. We celebrated your birthday at home on July 15 exactly, and on the weekend, we had a super party for your classmates by the Green Lake Wading Pool. It was the best party ever. Not only the kids had fun, but also the parents.
It is now time to start a blog for your sister, and integrate your memories. She will never know what it's like to have all the attention as an only child, but with a good sister like you, she will always have a friend, and so will you. When she sees you, she already smiles ear to ear. I look forward to the future of our happy, complete family.
Love,
Mommy.
You waited long for these two days. For the day you'd be a big sister and for your 4th birthday. "I want a sister so I have someone to play with," you said. And everyday toward the end of my pregnancy you asked if we were going to the hospital "now". Every "not yet" was a big disappointment, until Echo finally arrived. You watched her birth in the hospital, one eye on the show that was playing on your tablet, the other on the birth scene. "Mom! A baby just came out of your snooch!" you exclaimed, when the doctor pulled out Echo.
The next day, as soon as we got home from the hospital, you set up a tea party for you and Echo. Against your expectations, a new born Echo does not make an ideal playmate, but we still have our fun together. You love it when I hold Echo toward your chest as if she is look for milk. "No Echo, I don't have milk in my boob," you say, and ask me to "do it again." You have a blast when I make Echo inquire about what you're eating, and ask you to put a bite in her mouth. "Put it right here," she says, pointing her hand to her mouth. "No Echo, you can't eat yet. You can only have mama's milk," you say, and of course, ask me to "do it again!"
The challenge with your birthday was your unfamiliarity with the concept of time. seasons, months, weeks ended up being confusing concepts to describe when your birthday is going to be. You knew your birthday was in summer time. "It's not supposed to be chilly today. It's summer! I said" "Is it summer today??? you asked. "It's supposed to be, but it certainly doesn't feel like it," I said. "Is it my birthday?!" you asked with excitement. "No," I said. "Your birthday is in July 15, and tried to explain to you that Summer lasts more than one day. You knew your birthday was in July, When your friend Maja had her birthday a week before yours, you were in tears, thinking you could not have a birthday in July, because now Maja took your place. Almost everyday you asked me if it was your birthday. It is frustrating to hear that question daily, and have to say no to your sad little face, disappointed as if I didn't keep my promise.
Finally the day arrived. Including your extended family, we all put extra effort into your birthday this year, probably to make sure you still feel special, given that you're not an only child anymore. We celebrated your birthday at home on July 15 exactly, and on the weekend, we had a super party for your classmates by the Green Lake Wading Pool. It was the best party ever. Not only the kids had fun, but also the parents.
It is now time to start a blog for your sister, and integrate your memories. She will never know what it's like to have all the attention as an only child, but with a good sister like you, she will always have a friend, and so will you. When she sees you, she already smiles ear to ear. I look forward to the future of our happy, complete family.
Love,
Mommy.
Friday, June 13, 2014
Waiting for your little sister
My little love,
Any day now, you'll be a big sister. You're excited, curious and maybe a little jealous.
You play in your sister's room sometimes, and carry the toys and books from her room to yours. Most of them were yours when you were a baby. We tell you that the toys belong to both of you, and so do the rooms, and you two can play and sleep in any room you want.
You like playing with mommy - tea parties, orphaned baby bunny that needs to be rescued from the animal shelter, dress-up, you like to help me cook, paint your nails, and you like to talk, like a little humming bird. Between work and housework, I do what I can, because I know, nothing's more fun than playing with mommy. But with pregnancy, it's harder. Sometimes I'm glad we have a tablet where you can watch a show. Sometimes I tell you that I need to sit on the couch a bit until my belly feels better. Doesn't always work, but sometimes you understand that I'm uncomfortable, and you caress my belly and my arms like a caring little mom.
We'll try to have a lot of fun together when your sister Echo comes. We'll laugh at her stinky poop as we change her diapers, and wash her butt together, making funny faces, to make her laugh. I'll spend a lot of time with her nursing, and helping her grow. You'll probably be a little jealous at first, and maybe annoyed when she cries. But I will still love you more than anything in the whole wide world. I will also love Echo, just as much. And Echo will think you are the best thing on earth, and will follow you, and try to be like you. She will bring you a gift.
"What should Echo bring you as a gift, Zoe?"
"Just love. Real love."
"She will love you a lot. But she also wants to bring you a gift when she is born. Maybe a toy."
"Apple White."
I wanted to have multiple gifts for you from Echo when she is born. So I bought a dress-up game of stickers. But you found it already. I should have hid it better. You didn't find the "Apple White" doll yet. She'll be waiting for you at the hospital room.
I will also start a blog for Echo, introducing her to the world, because she is part of our family too. Your life will be part of hers, and we'll record your joint adventures in that one blog. She'll never have a chance to be the only special one, but papa and I will make sure she gets a fair chance in life as you continue to be loved. I know everything will be fine, because you already know we love you and so will Echo. Here is her hand, saying "Hello!"
Love,
Mommy.
Any day now, you'll be a big sister. You're excited, curious and maybe a little jealous.
You play in your sister's room sometimes, and carry the toys and books from her room to yours. Most of them were yours when you were a baby. We tell you that the toys belong to both of you, and so do the rooms, and you two can play and sleep in any room you want.
You like playing with mommy - tea parties, orphaned baby bunny that needs to be rescued from the animal shelter, dress-up, you like to help me cook, paint your nails, and you like to talk, like a little humming bird. Between work and housework, I do what I can, because I know, nothing's more fun than playing with mommy. But with pregnancy, it's harder. Sometimes I'm glad we have a tablet where you can watch a show. Sometimes I tell you that I need to sit on the couch a bit until my belly feels better. Doesn't always work, but sometimes you understand that I'm uncomfortable, and you caress my belly and my arms like a caring little mom.
We'll try to have a lot of fun together when your sister Echo comes. We'll laugh at her stinky poop as we change her diapers, and wash her butt together, making funny faces, to make her laugh. I'll spend a lot of time with her nursing, and helping her grow. You'll probably be a little jealous at first, and maybe annoyed when she cries. But I will still love you more than anything in the whole wide world. I will also love Echo, just as much. And Echo will think you are the best thing on earth, and will follow you, and try to be like you. She will bring you a gift.
"What should Echo bring you as a gift, Zoe?"
"Just love. Real love."
"She will love you a lot. But she also wants to bring you a gift when she is born. Maybe a toy."
"Apple White."
I wanted to have multiple gifts for you from Echo when she is born. So I bought a dress-up game of stickers. But you found it already. I should have hid it better. You didn't find the "Apple White" doll yet. She'll be waiting for you at the hospital room.
I will also start a blog for Echo, introducing her to the world, because she is part of our family too. Your life will be part of hers, and we'll record your joint adventures in that one blog. She'll never have a chance to be the only special one, but papa and I will make sure she gets a fair chance in life as you continue to be loved. I know everything will be fine, because you already know we love you and so will Echo. Here is her hand, saying "Hello!"
Love,
Mommy.
Friday, May 16, 2014
Fears, bravery and other adventures
"Mommy what day is it today?"
"It's Monday."
"Is it daycare day?"
"Yes, it's the first day of the week."
"I don't want to go to school!"
Lately, we've been having this conversation almost daily. I prefer that papa drops you off in the mornings. When I drop you off, you are sad, don't want to mingle with your friends, and don't let me go. I understand, but I don't want you to be sad.
Nonna and Nonno came to visit. One Saturday, we left you with Nonna and went to look for kitchen cabinets and flooring. We brought you along a few times before, but each time it was a waste of time. You'd complain that you are bored and hungry, and bored and bored, and not let us look, think and ask questions. Finally we could take our time, consider options, and make decisions. We called you a few times so you know we haven't forgotten you. I missed you and I felt torn, but it was also nice to have lunch with dad without you climbing on me and talking all the time. When we came back home you said "I missed yu today. Don't ever leave me." And that was that.
You've been afraid of darkness lately. You wanted to come to our bedroom, but was afraid to walk up in the dark, because of monsters. So you cried, and cried. We told you to not be afraid, and just come up, but you wanted me to come down to get you instead. We don't want you to be afraid of darkness. So we resisted and insisted that you come up. After a frustrating back and forth, I heard you say "take a deep breath." Then we heard you stumping up the stairs, screaming, stumping with big assertive steps. And there you were - upstairs. We were proud of you.
After bath, papa ties a towel around you hair. You love it, I think because this is something mommy does to her hair, and also because we comment on how beautiful you look. You run to me with a beaming smile, to show off your beauty, and I hug you. One such evening, you ran to me again, I took you on my lap, and you said "tell me you are beautiful," "tell me you are gorgeous." So I did. The happier you became, the more beautiful you looked.
You still love to role play. "Pretend I"m a baby bunny in the animal shelter. My mommy an daddy died, and they don't give me food or milk or water. You come and take me home."
"Pretend I'm Echo and I drink milk from the boob."
When I make up a fun story, you listen with excitement, and then say "repeat all those words again!"
"It's Monday."
"Is it daycare day?"
"Yes, it's the first day of the week."
"I don't want to go to school!"
Lately, we've been having this conversation almost daily. I prefer that papa drops you off in the mornings. When I drop you off, you are sad, don't want to mingle with your friends, and don't let me go. I understand, but I don't want you to be sad.
Nonna and Nonno came to visit. One Saturday, we left you with Nonna and went to look for kitchen cabinets and flooring. We brought you along a few times before, but each time it was a waste of time. You'd complain that you are bored and hungry, and bored and bored, and not let us look, think and ask questions. Finally we could take our time, consider options, and make decisions. We called you a few times so you know we haven't forgotten you. I missed you and I felt torn, but it was also nice to have lunch with dad without you climbing on me and talking all the time. When we came back home you said "I missed yu today. Don't ever leave me." And that was that.
You've been afraid of darkness lately. You wanted to come to our bedroom, but was afraid to walk up in the dark, because of monsters. So you cried, and cried. We told you to not be afraid, and just come up, but you wanted me to come down to get you instead. We don't want you to be afraid of darkness. So we resisted and insisted that you come up. After a frustrating back and forth, I heard you say "take a deep breath." Then we heard you stumping up the stairs, screaming, stumping with big assertive steps. And there you were - upstairs. We were proud of you.
After bath, papa ties a towel around you hair. You love it, I think because this is something mommy does to her hair, and also because we comment on how beautiful you look. You run to me with a beaming smile, to show off your beauty, and I hug you. One such evening, you ran to me again, I took you on my lap, and you said "tell me you are beautiful," "tell me you are gorgeous." So I did. The happier you became, the more beautiful you looked.
You still love to role play. "Pretend I"m a baby bunny in the animal shelter. My mommy an daddy died, and they don't give me food or milk or water. You come and take me home."
"Pretend I'm Echo and I drink milk from the boob."
When I make up a fun story, you listen with excitement, and then say "repeat all those words again!"
Friday, March 14, 2014
Your first real injury
My little Zoe,
I was grocery shopping when Papa called. On your way to your Saturday swim class your foot got caught between the bicycle spokes, and got injured.
"How bad is it?"
"I don't know, but it doesn't look good. We'll go back home."
"I'll come right away."
Sitting behind papa on the bike, you were kicking and kicking, and he told you to put your feet on the pegs, and as you did, your foot got caught and twisted, your pants tore, your shoe came off, and your skin cut. Papa's heart sank. On the way back home, as he pedaled, you kept saying "I'm sorry papa." "I'm sorry papa." Accidents happen Zoe. It wasn't your fault. It's a little tricky to find the foot pegs on that bike with the big paneers hanging on the sides.
When I came home, you were sitting on the toilet seat, watching a show on the tablet, sobbing a little. When you saw me, you were happy, and also worried. You started shaking like you were very cold. Papa already washed your boo boo. We took you straight to an urgent care clinic. They said the earliest appointment is in the afternoon and sent us to another branch. I sat by you in the car, covered you with my coat, and carried you around. You were brave. It must have hurt a lot, and you were scared, but you didn't cry much. Parents learn helplessness when their child is in pain.
In the waiting room we read a book The Rainbow Fish. You liked the pictures and the story. They sent us to the hospital to get XRays. The wait was long. We read a book about Rover from Sesame Street, and his hat collection, maybe 10 times, maybe more. They took pictures of your foot, and sent us back to the Urgent Care. We showed extra joy that no bone was broken to relieve your fear. It worked. At the urgent care we read the Rainbow Fish again, as they wrapped your foot.
Your foot was like a balloon and you couldn't walk. Good think Nonna was visiting, so you stayed home with her. I left work early every day to come home to you. We took you to our family doctor. A few days passed, which felt like weeks, and papa and I started losing sleep over imagined possibilities.
I scheduled an appointment with a specialist, who confirmed that there was a lot of trauma, but only to your soft tissues, and healing was a matter of time. He gave you a hard boot, so you can start walking. You didn't like it and wanted me to carry you around, until you got used to it, and started thinking it was cool and wanted to wear it all the time.
Your foot is doing a lot better. The swelling is gone, the boo boo is closing, but you still walk funny without the boot - I'm not sure if it hurts, you are afraid to step on it or or you like the attention. I think a little bit of all.
We love you. You scared us so much!
Your foot was like a balloon and you couldn't walk. Good think Nonna was visiting, so you stayed home with her. I left work early every day to come home to you. We took you to our family doctor. A few days passed, which felt like weeks, and papa and I started losing sleep over imagined possibilities.
I scheduled an appointment with a specialist, who confirmed that there was a lot of trauma, but only to your soft tissues, and healing was a matter of time. He gave you a hard boot, so you can start walking. You didn't like it and wanted me to carry you around, until you got used to it, and started thinking it was cool and wanted to wear it all the time.
Your foot is doing a lot better. The swelling is gone, the boo boo is closing, but you still walk funny without the boot - I'm not sure if it hurts, you are afraid to step on it or or you like the attention. I think a little bit of all.
We love you. You scared us so much!
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Your first story
Mommy: "Zoe, let's write a story. You tell me the story, and I will write it down on this note pad"
"Once upon a time there was a mermaid, a good wolf, a good witch and a good mermaid friend. There were also five fairies in the sky: Lemon Merengue, Blueberry, Strawberry, Little Boo Beep and Sheep.
The mermaids' names were Cherry and Merry. They loved to swim in the ocean. One day, the good witch snuck into the ocean to find the mermaids. She wanted to play hide and seek. The good wolf was with her. He was her pet.
There was also a bad witch. Her name, Darkness Blackness. The good witch's name was Maya. The bad witch decided to visit the ocean too, to scratch the mermaids' tails, heads and everywhere else. She found the mermaids at the ocean zoo, visiting sea animal and statues. She pretended to be a good witch, and named herself Blackberry.
She introduced herself to the mermaids and just talked. Then she became a hedgehog, so the mermaids found out that she was a bad witch, and the fairies made her disappear into thin air. When she died, she became an earthquake, and then she became a hawk, a big bad mouse, and a big bad owl.
The End.
You have always been very articulate, but I'm still surprised you were able to dictate me this story. In your writing, I detect the influence of multiple literary sources - Strawberry Shortcake, Little Mermaid, The Wizard of Oz, and Peep, the cartoon show about a duck a baby bird, and a chick.
It's been about a month since you dictated this story. I wonder if we did the same exercise today, how different the story would be. Let's find out.
Love,
Mommy.
"Once upon a time there was a mermaid, a good wolf, a good witch and a good mermaid friend. There were also five fairies in the sky: Lemon Merengue, Blueberry, Strawberry, Little Boo Beep and Sheep.
The mermaids' names were Cherry and Merry. They loved to swim in the ocean. One day, the good witch snuck into the ocean to find the mermaids. She wanted to play hide and seek. The good wolf was with her. He was her pet.
There was also a bad witch. Her name, Darkness Blackness. The good witch's name was Maya. The bad witch decided to visit the ocean too, to scratch the mermaids' tails, heads and everywhere else. She found the mermaids at the ocean zoo, visiting sea animal and statues. She pretended to be a good witch, and named herself Blackberry.
She introduced herself to the mermaids and just talked. Then she became a hedgehog, so the mermaids found out that she was a bad witch, and the fairies made her disappear into thin air. When she died, she became an earthquake, and then she became a hawk, a big bad mouse, and a big bad owl.
The End.
You have always been very articulate, but I'm still surprised you were able to dictate me this story. In your writing, I detect the influence of multiple literary sources - Strawberry Shortcake, Little Mermaid, The Wizard of Oz, and Peep, the cartoon show about a duck a baby bird, and a chick.
It's been about a month since you dictated this story. I wonder if we did the same exercise today, how different the story would be. Let's find out.
Love,
Mommy.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
New daycare, new job, new bed
My Dearest Zoe,
In September you started a bilingual new daycare, La Escuelita. You were happy where you are, but we didn't want to pass on the opportunity to learn a language.
We keep thinking if it was worth it, and ask for your feedback. You don't look happy there, and we don't like they way the place is run or how the kids are treated. Luckily you formed a special connection with one of the teachers - Teacher Melly, and she has been watching out for you. But Friday is her last day, so I'm worried about the weeks to come. We wrote a goodbye card for her. You dictated, I wrote - "I miss you, Teacher Melly. I want you to know that I am your very best friend." You also wanted to draw a picture, thinking it might convince her to stay. You are a wild girl, but also very sweet.
We asked you if you wanted to go back to Orca daycare, but you said you wanted to learn Spanish. So we'll test it out for a little longer.
You want me to drop you off and pick you up from school, but I can't always. In fact, since I started a new job, almost always Papa has been dropping you off. You look sad in the morning, and say "I want mama to pick me up."
"Remember you used to pick me up everyday?"
"Yes, but my new job is very busy. And I get stuck in traffic. So I can't make it."
"I want you to lose that job."
Since we had this conversation, I've been trying extra hard to pick you up. I bring a snack, and we hang out a little before we go home. Sometimes we get hot coco from the coffee shop in the corner, or play in the playground. Sometimes papa joins us if we biked that day, and we all bike back home. I ordered a new bike online - one that I can carry you and groceries at the same time. We'll have a great time together when it arrives. You'll be sitting right behind my saddle, and after daycare, we can go to PCC for grocery shopping and a treat for my precious one.
Since we moved to our new house, you've been sleeping with us every night. We made a deal that if you sleep in your bed 3 times, we will get you a big girl's bed. And we did. I narrowed down the options to 4 and you picked one that looked like a tiara. We got a mattress from Ikea and it is super comfortable. At night papa and I can snuggle with you and read you books. When it's time to fall asleep, we have to cuddle with you - I wonder if you will ever fall asleep on your own. After that, it's hit or miss. Sometimes you sleep in your bed, sometimes you come upstairs to the big bed. If I say I don't like it, I'd be lying. You are so cute and cuddly.
Love,
Mommy
In September you started a bilingual new daycare, La Escuelita. You were happy where you are, but we didn't want to pass on the opportunity to learn a language.
We keep thinking if it was worth it, and ask for your feedback. You don't look happy there, and we don't like they way the place is run or how the kids are treated. Luckily you formed a special connection with one of the teachers - Teacher Melly, and she has been watching out for you. But Friday is her last day, so I'm worried about the weeks to come. We wrote a goodbye card for her. You dictated, I wrote - "I miss you, Teacher Melly. I want you to know that I am your very best friend." You also wanted to draw a picture, thinking it might convince her to stay. You are a wild girl, but also very sweet.
We asked you if you wanted to go back to Orca daycare, but you said you wanted to learn Spanish. So we'll test it out for a little longer.
You want me to drop you off and pick you up from school, but I can't always. In fact, since I started a new job, almost always Papa has been dropping you off. You look sad in the morning, and say "I want mama to pick me up."
"Remember you used to pick me up everyday?"
"Yes, but my new job is very busy. And I get stuck in traffic. So I can't make it."
"I want you to lose that job."
Since we had this conversation, I've been trying extra hard to pick you up. I bring a snack, and we hang out a little before we go home. Sometimes we get hot coco from the coffee shop in the corner, or play in the playground. Sometimes papa joins us if we biked that day, and we all bike back home. I ordered a new bike online - one that I can carry you and groceries at the same time. We'll have a great time together when it arrives. You'll be sitting right behind my saddle, and after daycare, we can go to PCC for grocery shopping and a treat for my precious one.
Since we moved to our new house, you've been sleeping with us every night. We made a deal that if you sleep in your bed 3 times, we will get you a big girl's bed. And we did. I narrowed down the options to 4 and you picked one that looked like a tiara. We got a mattress from Ikea and it is super comfortable. At night papa and I can snuggle with you and read you books. When it's time to fall asleep, we have to cuddle with you - I wonder if you will ever fall asleep on your own. After that, it's hit or miss. Sometimes you sleep in your bed, sometimes you come upstairs to the big bed. If I say I don't like it, I'd be lying. You are so cute and cuddly.
Love,
Mommy
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
New home, new room
Dear little Zoe,
By the time you got used to our beige town-house on 85th Street and mentioned our blue Austin house less and less, we moved again. This time to our own home. It's what they call a fixer-upper, though so far it's been mostly a fixer. We knew what we were getting into, or so we thought, but for the neighborhood, and the lake nearby, we decided that it was worth it.
We packed everything in boxes, a scene you have witnessed many times since birth, and on July 8, we moved. The house did not preserve the historic charm of its 1923 origin, and the lost was not replaced by any modern charm. The place has been under construction since we moved in, and all cleaning efforts were short lived due to dirt and dust generated by constant work. You called it a dirty house, and were not happy. So I told you that the house was a baby that kept pooping on itself, and that we needed to help it grow. You enjoyed the analogy, and played along with it with a much more positive attitude. When you saw a messy corner because we were patching a hole on the wall or the closet rack collapsed, and with it all the clothes, you'd say "the house pooped on itself again."
We were determined to fix your room fast, and before anything else. We discussed the color for your walls, but when you said you wanted a rainbow, I painted all sky blue, to replace the depressing dark blue original. In the pictures below, you can see the prep work, where ceiling and moldings are protected with blue tape and your furniture with plastic.
By the time I was done with two layers of primer and two coats of paint, and million other repairs, I was getting discouraged by the magnitude of the task I put myself into. And the happy little you, already told your teachers and friends at daycare, that mama was going to paint a rainbow in your new room, with butterflies, born out of it's colors, flying up into the sky, as you heard me describe the plan to you and papa. There was no turning back, so forward we charged, with paints, brushes stencils, and the vision of your happiness.
I made a "swing" shelf with birds that match your furniture color scheme. Papa carefully hung the hooks that hold up the branch.
You love wish berries, though most people call them dandelions.
"Mommy! You made my room just like I wanted!" I was going for your happiness, but your gratitude made the experience sublime.
For a while, your room was the only place we gathered as a family for dinner. "Picnic dinner" we called it, as we spread a blanket and ate on your carpet - always a home cooked meal, I'd like to add.
In the mean time, papa built your closet, so we removed your little girl's armoire and used the space for a big girl's desk and chair, something you've been wanting, ever since you heard papa and I talk about it. It's stocked with new crayons, markers and coloring books, for your enjoyment. I wonder what would occupy my mind instead, if I haven't had you.
The house is getting less and less poopy every day. We even have grass in the yard, and are building a patio. One night you and I will camp there.
Love Mommy.
By the time you got used to our beige town-house on 85th Street and mentioned our blue Austin house less and less, we moved again. This time to our own home. It's what they call a fixer-upper, though so far it's been mostly a fixer. We knew what we were getting into, or so we thought, but for the neighborhood, and the lake nearby, we decided that it was worth it.
We packed everything in boxes, a scene you have witnessed many times since birth, and on July 8, we moved. The house did not preserve the historic charm of its 1923 origin, and the lost was not replaced by any modern charm. The place has been under construction since we moved in, and all cleaning efforts were short lived due to dirt and dust generated by constant work. You called it a dirty house, and were not happy. So I told you that the house was a baby that kept pooping on itself, and that we needed to help it grow. You enjoyed the analogy, and played along with it with a much more positive attitude. When you saw a messy corner because we were patching a hole on the wall or the closet rack collapsed, and with it all the clothes, you'd say "the house pooped on itself again."
We were determined to fix your room fast, and before anything else. We discussed the color for your walls, but when you said you wanted a rainbow, I painted all sky blue, to replace the depressing dark blue original. In the pictures below, you can see the prep work, where ceiling and moldings are protected with blue tape and your furniture with plastic.
By the time I was done with two layers of primer and two coats of paint, and million other repairs, I was getting discouraged by the magnitude of the task I put myself into. And the happy little you, already told your teachers and friends at daycare, that mama was going to paint a rainbow in your new room, with butterflies, born out of it's colors, flying up into the sky, as you heard me describe the plan to you and papa. There was no turning back, so forward we charged, with paints, brushes stencils, and the vision of your happiness.
I made a "swing" shelf with birds that match your furniture color scheme. Papa carefully hung the hooks that hold up the branch.
You love wish berries, though most people call them dandelions.
"Mommy! You made my room just like I wanted!" I was going for your happiness, but your gratitude made the experience sublime.
For a while, your room was the only place we gathered as a family for dinner. "Picnic dinner" we called it, as we spread a blanket and ate on your carpet - always a home cooked meal, I'd like to add.
In the mean time, papa built your closet, so we removed your little girl's armoire and used the space for a big girl's desk and chair, something you've been wanting, ever since you heard papa and I talk about it. It's stocked with new crayons, markers and coloring books, for your enjoyment. I wonder what would occupy my mind instead, if I haven't had you.
The house is getting less and less poopy every day. We even have grass in the yard, and are building a patio. One night you and I will camp there.
Love Mommy.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
You are 3 years old!
My baby Zoe,
We celebrated your 3rd birthday! You will always remain as my baby, though. Even when you stop asking me to cuddle with you tightly - when it's hot and we are sweating - so you can fall asleep, or let me go to the bathroom without your companionship, even when you stop inviting me to play with you every second we are together, or when you stop the puppy hugs and the juicy kisses, you will still be my curly baby.
We had a great birthday party at daycare. A few days prior, we went to the bakery of the QFC market, so you could browse your cake options in their cake book. You picked a princess cake that included a crown and a scepter you could keep and use. The morning of July 15, you thought it was better to wear a dress for the occasion. After nap time at daycare, papa and I showed up with a pinata shaped like a princess castle, a Strawberry Shortcake balloon,
a freshly baked cake,
and goody bags as gifts for your friends.
Everyone got excited, and fascinated by the candy filled pinata. One girl got jealous and started crying, she never stopped until the party was over. Not sure what the real problem was, poor thing. But the rest, enjoyed the cake, their goody bags and put great effort into breaking the hanging pinata. You took turns to hit it, and hit it, with a bat, over and over, to no avail. It was a sturdy pinata, so the adults, provided some help, until the candy rained down! Oh the lolly pops, the taffy, and the tootsie rolls! A floor covered with candy and and all of you on your knees, picking more, while eating! We put aside one goody bag for your best friend Luca, who is in the Sunny room. It's cute that your best friend is a class up. After the party, we all went out to play in the playground. "Mommy, stay forever!" You said, and didn't let me away from your site. Luca was happy to see you, and gave you a hug, and you girls ran around hand in hand.
But most of the time, you stayed close to the fence, so you could talk to me:
But this was not the end of your birthday. For dinner, we went to your favorite restaurant Duke's Chowder House. It's a totally adult place, but you love it there. We invited our friends Bill and Jen to join us. After dinner, we shared a cake shaped like a hamburger (you thought that cake was funny when we were at the bakery earlier that week) and opened your gifts. A walking and talking Pinky Pie Pony you picked yourself, a small Rapunzel doll with extra clothes you liked "for later," meaning for another occasion in the future, a water gun, and Bill and Jen's Lego for girls!
As part of your coming-of-age process, you are now able to eat olives with seeds, which brought the occasion to discover the big black, meaty Cerignola olives, which are never sold pitted. Now they are your favorite!
Happy 3rd Birthday my lovely little girl!
Mommy.
We celebrated your 3rd birthday! You will always remain as my baby, though. Even when you stop asking me to cuddle with you tightly - when it's hot and we are sweating - so you can fall asleep, or let me go to the bathroom without your companionship, even when you stop inviting me to play with you every second we are together, or when you stop the puppy hugs and the juicy kisses, you will still be my curly baby.
We had a great birthday party at daycare. A few days prior, we went to the bakery of the QFC market, so you could browse your cake options in their cake book. You picked a princess cake that included a crown and a scepter you could keep and use. The morning of July 15, you thought it was better to wear a dress for the occasion. After nap time at daycare, papa and I showed up with a pinata shaped like a princess castle, a Strawberry Shortcake balloon,
a freshly baked cake,
and goody bags as gifts for your friends.
Everyone got excited, and fascinated by the candy filled pinata. One girl got jealous and started crying, she never stopped until the party was over. Not sure what the real problem was, poor thing. But the rest, enjoyed the cake, their goody bags and put great effort into breaking the hanging pinata. You took turns to hit it, and hit it, with a bat, over and over, to no avail. It was a sturdy pinata, so the adults, provided some help, until the candy rained down! Oh the lolly pops, the taffy, and the tootsie rolls! A floor covered with candy and and all of you on your knees, picking more, while eating! We put aside one goody bag for your best friend Luca, who is in the Sunny room. It's cute that your best friend is a class up. After the party, we all went out to play in the playground. "Mommy, stay forever!" You said, and didn't let me away from your site. Luca was happy to see you, and gave you a hug, and you girls ran around hand in hand.
But most of the time, you stayed close to the fence, so you could talk to me:
But this was not the end of your birthday. For dinner, we went to your favorite restaurant Duke's Chowder House. It's a totally adult place, but you love it there. We invited our friends Bill and Jen to join us. After dinner, we shared a cake shaped like a hamburger (you thought that cake was funny when we were at the bakery earlier that week) and opened your gifts. A walking and talking Pinky Pie Pony you picked yourself, a small Rapunzel doll with extra clothes you liked "for later," meaning for another occasion in the future, a water gun, and Bill and Jen's Lego for girls!
As part of your coming-of-age process, you are now able to eat olives with seeds, which brought the occasion to discover the big black, meaty Cerignola olives, which are never sold pitted. Now they are your favorite!
Happy 3rd Birthday my lovely little girl!
Mommy.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Fun and games
My lovely little girl,
I'm finally over the guilt of taking you from Elena's class in Austin, although, she is still my favorite teacher. You have a new teacher at daycare. Her name is Brie and she is good! You two get along and she loves you. She thinks you are very sophisticated and smart. I've always known that about you, but it makes me happy to hear it from others. I'm so proud of you.
-----------------------
A while back, your soccer coach asked each child what they liked most about soccer. All kids mumbled, unable to understand the abstract question. Then it was your turn.
Coach: What do you like most about soccer?
Zoe: Scoring goals.
-----------------------
Sometimes the sun shines in Seattle. We jumped on our bikes and zoomed to the little beach around the lake.
"You can go topless," I said.
"No. Only boys can go topless," you replied.
"Where did you hear that?"
"At the old daycare," you said.
The water was cold, but you didn't care. You swam and splashed and squealed with joy. You were shaking and your lips turned into ripe blueberries. But there was no way to get you out.
"I'll race you out," papa said.
"No! Race me in," you replied.
I was trying to take your picture, and as usual, you weren't looking at the camera.
"Is there something behind me?" I asked, thinking you would say something like a bird, the lake, people...
"Your back!" you said, lifting your little finger into the sky victoriously, having found the correct answer.
I got us all ice creams, to have the perfect beach experience. "I won't finish it all," you said. "and I will brush my teeth." You were surprised that papa finished all his ice cream.
--------------------
As I said many times before, you have a gift for expressing yourself even when you don't know the words.
I want more sliced orange juice - referring to mandarin oranges
Eye gogglers - binoculars
Measuring hammer - caliper
Put on my zucchini - bikini
Zoe, do you want chocolate? No, I want the cold desert - referring to mochi, a Japanese ice cream.
-----------------
Zoe: Mommy, these shoes are getting smaller.
Me: Your feet are getting bigger. You are growing.
Zoe: Do you have shoes that are small?
Me: No, I don't. I stopped growing.
Zoe: But you didn't stop learning! We never stop learning.
"I know about boats and animals. I need to learn more about the space and space shuttles."
-----------------
We went to the zoo with our friends, and at the gift store, you saw a stuffed pink monkey you couldn't resist. We bought it for you, making you promise not to ask for other toys until the end of the week. You named her Fuzz. When papa was out playing soccer, I put Fuzz on papa's seat while you and I ate dinner. I pretended Fuzz was papa and you had a blast. The next day, papa put Fuzz on his shoulder and fed her ice cream. "Papa is pretending the monkey is real." You laughed. "Funny, daddy."
A few times when papa was out during dinner I said "Zoe, how nice, you and me, having dinner together." I didn't think much of it, but then, you tried repeating what I said, and asked me to say it again and again, until you learned to say it exactly the same way. Every time you and I are alone at the dinner table, you say "how nice, you and me, having dinner together."
Your mental and linguistic development is ahead of the curve, which is fun and scary. Don't waste it, my lovely.
-----------------
You love watching the Powerpuff Girls. They have special powers. They fight crime, and kick Mojo Jojo's ass. Your favorite is Buttercup, the toughest of the three, dressed in green. I thought it would be fun to dress you like her. I got you white tights, converted one of my green tank tops to a dress for you, and tied a black belt around your waist. You went crazy with joy. You ask me periodically, to dress you like her, and we play. Papa pretends to be Mojo Jojo sometimes and you attack.
You really want to be like the Powerpuff Girls. Papa says that to be like them, you need to sleep on your own, because that's what the Powerpuff Girls do. You listen, look sad, but believe him, and reluctantly volunteer to start the night in your bed. Then you come to our bed, proudly saying that you are a Powerpuff Girl, because you slept in your bed. Some nights, you give up the thought of becoming a Powerpuff Girl, and start the night in our bed from the get go.
Another game you like is the Fairy. You ask me to put on your pink wings and a tutu skirt, and you pretend to crash into a tree while flying. I take care of your broken wings with tools in your doctor bag. Then we take turns, over and over again. "Now it's my tuuurn," you say. "Now it's your tuuuurn."
Love, Mommy
Friday, April 5, 2013
Wishes, babies and death - your latest interests
The daisies were in bloom when we went to the park. I let you pick them, knowing the temptation of flower picking for little girls first hand. In passing, I mentioned that when we pick flowers, they die. They don't grow anymore, I explained. I just wanted you to slowly start gaining awareness of your actions.
"Put them back," you said with an expression of distress, motioning me to put the flowers back in the earth. "We can't put them back once we pick them," I said.
"I don't want to pick daisies anymore."
Pointing at the picture of our deceased cat Odysseus, you wanted me to tell you about him. I told you what a special cat he was, and how much we loved him, and how he got sick one day, and died. "And he got better," you said, with excitement. "He died," I said. "He doesn't breath anymore. His heart doesn't beat. He didn't want to die. He loved us very much, and if he met you, he would have loved you too."
You started noticing every use of the word "death" or "dying." and then you said: "Tell me a story about dying, mommy." Not the request I was expecting to have from a 2.5 year old, nevertheless, I wanted to satisfy your curiosity without scaring you, without lying to you and without confusing you.
"Well, Zoe, everything that's alive, dies. Flowers, animals, people." I felt it was easier to focus on the accidental, untimely death of plants, and the natural, age related death of animals and people.
"When we pick flowers, they die." When we don't pick them, they live longer."
"I don't want to die," you said."
"You are very young and healthy, Zoe." Old people die.
This dialogue has been coming up over and over. One day you asked Papa:
"Am I old?"
"No," said Papa. "You are young."
"How old am I?" you asked.
"You are two and a half years old," Papa replied.
"So I AM old," you said.
My little girl, you are not old, but you are very very smart.
----------------------
Lately several times a day you've been saying: "I wish we had another baby. We need a head, a belly, toes, legs..."
"Babies first grow inside the belly," I said.
"Will put the baby in MY belly," you said with excitement. "I'll also put some toys, so the baby can play!"
------------------------
You blew a dandelion flower into the wind and said "I made a wish."
"What did you wish for?" I asked.
"I wished that you were happy and played with me," you said.
"I AM happy. You make me happy all the time. And we play a lot together, I said."
We were pretending to have a birthday party, and we pretended to blow the birthday cake candle.
"What did you wish for?" I asked
"I wished that you would be so completely proud of me."
I was surprised and proud that you didn't wish for a toy or chocolate, and I tell you at least 3 times a day how proud I am of you. So much so that when we switch roles, and you pretend to be Mommy, and me Zoe, you always say "I'm SO proud of you."
----------------------------
We've been slowly teaching you the value of saving, not wasting, whether it's money, water or electricity.
The money in your piggy bank is slowly increasing. I asked you what you'd like to buy with it.
"Peanut butter jar," you said.
"You don't need to spend your money on peanut butter. I can buy you that," I said. The truth is, you don't like peanut butter. You see it in cartoons and books, and other kids eating it. But you never want to eat peanut butter when I give it to you.
"A nice big house or a nice small house," you said. You probably heard me say that before.
"That's too expensive. You might not have enough in your piggy bank to buy a house. Papa and I are trying to buy one. What else would you like to buy? Maybe a toy? A candy?"
"I don't need anything."
We were at the drug store where you saw a big fluffy toy sheep. "So wooly, you said and asked to pet it. I so want to get you everything you want. But not only that it is financially unfeasible, it is also wrong. I secretly checked the price, and kept quiet, wishing you wouldn't insist. You must have read my silence - you were always good at reading emotions. After a while you said "we'll put it back." Then you saw a little fan, shaped like a bunny, filled with candy. You played with it, got so excited. "Can we bring this home, mommy?"
"Let's have a talk," I said. "Do you really want it?"
"Yes."
You will not ask to buy another toy today?
"No, promise."
"Ok, Zoe, you can have it."
You have been enjoying your candy filled bunny fan.
I love you.
Mommy.
"Put them back," you said with an expression of distress, motioning me to put the flowers back in the earth. "We can't put them back once we pick them," I said.
"I don't want to pick daisies anymore."
Pointing at the picture of our deceased cat Odysseus, you wanted me to tell you about him. I told you what a special cat he was, and how much we loved him, and how he got sick one day, and died. "And he got better," you said, with excitement. "He died," I said. "He doesn't breath anymore. His heart doesn't beat. He didn't want to die. He loved us very much, and if he met you, he would have loved you too."
You started noticing every use of the word "death" or "dying." and then you said: "Tell me a story about dying, mommy." Not the request I was expecting to have from a 2.5 year old, nevertheless, I wanted to satisfy your curiosity without scaring you, without lying to you and without confusing you.
"Well, Zoe, everything that's alive, dies. Flowers, animals, people." I felt it was easier to focus on the accidental, untimely death of plants, and the natural, age related death of animals and people.
"When we pick flowers, they die." When we don't pick them, they live longer."
"I don't want to die," you said."
"You are very young and healthy, Zoe." Old people die.
This dialogue has been coming up over and over. One day you asked Papa:
"Am I old?"
"No," said Papa. "You are young."
"How old am I?" you asked.
"You are two and a half years old," Papa replied.
"So I AM old," you said.
My little girl, you are not old, but you are very very smart.
----------------------
Lately several times a day you've been saying: "I wish we had another baby. We need a head, a belly, toes, legs..."
"Babies first grow inside the belly," I said.
"Will put the baby in MY belly," you said with excitement. "I'll also put some toys, so the baby can play!"
------------------------
You blew a dandelion flower into the wind and said "I made a wish."
"What did you wish for?" I asked.
"I wished that you were happy and played with me," you said.
"I AM happy. You make me happy all the time. And we play a lot together, I said."
We were pretending to have a birthday party, and we pretended to blow the birthday cake candle.
"What did you wish for?" I asked
"I wished that you would be so completely proud of me."
I was surprised and proud that you didn't wish for a toy or chocolate, and I tell you at least 3 times a day how proud I am of you. So much so that when we switch roles, and you pretend to be Mommy, and me Zoe, you always say "I'm SO proud of you."
----------------------------
We've been slowly teaching you the value of saving, not wasting, whether it's money, water or electricity.
The money in your piggy bank is slowly increasing. I asked you what you'd like to buy with it.
"Peanut butter jar," you said.
"You don't need to spend your money on peanut butter. I can buy you that," I said. The truth is, you don't like peanut butter. You see it in cartoons and books, and other kids eating it. But you never want to eat peanut butter when I give it to you.
"A nice big house or a nice small house," you said. You probably heard me say that before.
"That's too expensive. You might not have enough in your piggy bank to buy a house. Papa and I are trying to buy one. What else would you like to buy? Maybe a toy? A candy?"
"I don't need anything."
We were at the drug store where you saw a big fluffy toy sheep. "So wooly, you said and asked to pet it. I so want to get you everything you want. But not only that it is financially unfeasible, it is also wrong. I secretly checked the price, and kept quiet, wishing you wouldn't insist. You must have read my silence - you were always good at reading emotions. After a while you said "we'll put it back." Then you saw a little fan, shaped like a bunny, filled with candy. You played with it, got so excited. "Can we bring this home, mommy?"
"Let's have a talk," I said. "Do you really want it?"
"Yes."
You will not ask to buy another toy today?
"No, promise."
"Ok, Zoe, you can have it."
You have been enjoying your candy filled bunny fan.
I love you.
Mommy.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Words of wisdom
How do you clap with one hand?
Zoe: "You use the other."
Pointing at a tool icon on your toy phone: "This is my tool game. Open it."
Zoe, this phone is not real. We can't play your tool game on this one."
"We can pretend."
Looking at my boring, gray work skirt - "This skirt doesn't make you beautiful."
When it's time to go to bed: "I want a snack plate with olives, cheese, and cornishons."
Looking at a $1 bill: "This is Beethoven!"
That's George Washington, but yes, he does look like Beethoven in that picture.
"Who is George Washington?"
Not sure how to explain the concept of a President, I said "he was the teacher of all the people in America. But he is dead."
"Like Beethoven! Beethoven is dead too."
"You should make couscous." Couscous is one of your favorite foods.
Zoe: "You use the other."
Pointing at a tool icon on your toy phone: "This is my tool game. Open it."
Zoe, this phone is not real. We can't play your tool game on this one."
"We can pretend."
Looking at my boring, gray work skirt - "This skirt doesn't make you beautiful."
When it's time to go to bed: "I want a snack plate with olives, cheese, and cornishons."
Looking at a $1 bill: "This is Beethoven!"
That's George Washington, but yes, he does look like Beethoven in that picture.
"Who is George Washington?"
Not sure how to explain the concept of a President, I said "he was the teacher of all the people in America. But he is dead."
"Like Beethoven! Beethoven is dead too."
"You should make couscous." Couscous is one of your favorite foods.
Monday, February 18, 2013
First time skiing and more poop adventures
Dear Zoe,
The plan was to take you sledding while papa and I took turns skiing. At the ski rental store you explored the poles, the boots, told me to get the red ones. They had only black for my size. The parental guilt of doing something fun that yo can't share weighed heavy on us. But you were too little... or so we thought, until we asked if they had equipment for your size. The clerk said yes! The next morning three sets of skis and boots were ready to face the mountain. "The Magic Carpet" kids lift was inconveniently located at the far end of the facility, accessed through a long uphill battle. We marched on, sweating under the weight of skis, poles, coats and the little you.
We were concerned that we might turn you off of skiing, by introducing the activity too early, but you surprised us with your enthusiasm. "Let's do it again." Let's do it again." So up and down we went.
At the end of the day, as we were heading back to the car, you refused to walk, threw yourself on the ground, and ran back to the ski area.
On the way home, we stopped by a Japanese restaurant for dinner where you went to potty with papa. when you came back to the table, you told us what happened:
"I pooped in the potty. You are so proud of me. It makes you very happy. The poop came out, it fell in the water. Plop." Turning to papa, "you were so excited!" It was so big, like papa's." Your hands, showing the size of a big poop, your voice loud and excited, in a Japanese restaurant. We listened, happy.
On another subject, while putting on your socks, I pointed at your right foot, I said, "Zoe give me your right foot." Shaking your left foot you asked "is this my wrong foot?"
I love you, my moon light.
Kiss,
Mommy
The plan was to take you sledding while papa and I took turns skiing. At the ski rental store you explored the poles, the boots, told me to get the red ones. They had only black for my size. The parental guilt of doing something fun that yo can't share weighed heavy on us. But you were too little... or so we thought, until we asked if they had equipment for your size. The clerk said yes! The next morning three sets of skis and boots were ready to face the mountain. "The Magic Carpet" kids lift was inconveniently located at the far end of the facility, accessed through a long uphill battle. We marched on, sweating under the weight of skis, poles, coats and the little you.
We were concerned that we might turn you off of skiing, by introducing the activity too early, but you surprised us with your enthusiasm. "Let's do it again." Let's do it again." So up and down we went.
At the end of the day, as we were heading back to the car, you refused to walk, threw yourself on the ground, and ran back to the ski area.
On the way home, we stopped by a Japanese restaurant for dinner where you went to potty with papa. when you came back to the table, you told us what happened:
"I pooped in the potty. You are so proud of me. It makes you very happy. The poop came out, it fell in the water. Plop." Turning to papa, "you were so excited!" It was so big, like papa's." Your hands, showing the size of a big poop, your voice loud and excited, in a Japanese restaurant. We listened, happy.
On another subject, while putting on your socks, I pointed at your right foot, I said, "Zoe give me your right foot." Shaking your left foot you asked "is this my wrong foot?"
I love you, my moon light.
Kiss,
Mommy
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Little soccer player
Little Zoe,
You started playing soccer. Every Sunday papa and I take turns, and either bike or drive to Arena Sports, where you kick ass and charm the world. You look like a professional soccer player, a mom said.
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When Coach Jeremy gives his instructions, you look straight at him, listen intently, with the frown you inherited from me, and perform, as instructed. When he asks your name or the color of your circle, you always answer, and correctly. One of the moms noticed your attentiveness, and said you are so focused! At daycare, on the other hand, the teacher said you do your own thing, and don't follow instructions always. Your teacher in your old daycare would disagree. She used to tell me how you would listen, watch and do everything she used to teach you. Then at home, we would practice the things you learned - building with blocks, Beethoven's deafness, Christopher Columbus and his insistence that the world is round...You are an awesome girl. When there is something to learn, you are all focused and interested. Your current daycare is not the most educational place, so I'm not surprised you drift away.
At soccer, you kick the ball, catch bubbles, play run-and-freeze, build towers with cones and kick them to the ground. We also try to wake up Fred the little soccer mouse by kicking the ball to the walls surrounding the play area.
Soccer is not news to you, since you grew up watching papa play, and always had a ball in your room that we played at home, in the yard, and in parks.
On Monday nights it's papa's turn to play soccer. Last Monday was his first game. We played, read books, and went to bed. Just as you were drifting away, you asked sleepily "where is papa?" "He went to play soccer," I said, and you started crying like it was the end of life.
"I want to play soccer, I want to play soccer."
"You play on Sundays, papa plays on Mondays."
"I want to play now!"
"Papa plays outside, it's cold and dark..."
Nothing I said calmed you down and you cried on. I cuddled with you and eventually you fell asleep. this past Sunday, we went on a trip to an island, so we had to skip soccer. Papa and i made sure not to say or do anything that could remind you of your Sunday practice. Next Sunday is just a few days away.
Love,
Mommy.
You started playing soccer. Every Sunday papa and I take turns, and either bike or drive to Arena Sports, where you kick ass and charm the world. You look like a professional soccer player, a mom said.
.jpg)
When Coach Jeremy gives his instructions, you look straight at him, listen intently, with the frown you inherited from me, and perform, as instructed. When he asks your name or the color of your circle, you always answer, and correctly. One of the moms noticed your attentiveness, and said you are so focused! At daycare, on the other hand, the teacher said you do your own thing, and don't follow instructions always. Your teacher in your old daycare would disagree. She used to tell me how you would listen, watch and do everything she used to teach you. Then at home, we would practice the things you learned - building with blocks, Beethoven's deafness, Christopher Columbus and his insistence that the world is round...You are an awesome girl. When there is something to learn, you are all focused and interested. Your current daycare is not the most educational place, so I'm not surprised you drift away.
At soccer, you kick the ball, catch bubbles, play run-and-freeze, build towers with cones and kick them to the ground. We also try to wake up Fred the little soccer mouse by kicking the ball to the walls surrounding the play area.
Soccer is not news to you, since you grew up watching papa play, and always had a ball in your room that we played at home, in the yard, and in parks.
On Monday nights it's papa's turn to play soccer. Last Monday was his first game. We played, read books, and went to bed. Just as you were drifting away, you asked sleepily "where is papa?" "He went to play soccer," I said, and you started crying like it was the end of life.
"I want to play soccer, I want to play soccer."
"You play on Sundays, papa plays on Mondays."
"I want to play now!"
"Papa plays outside, it's cold and dark..."
Nothing I said calmed you down and you cried on. I cuddled with you and eventually you fell asleep. this past Sunday, we went on a trip to an island, so we had to skip soccer. Papa and i made sure not to say or do anything that could remind you of your Sunday practice. Next Sunday is just a few days away.
Love,
Mommy.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
When Jacob cried
You didn't know Jacob could cry. Papa put in the batteries, thinking you would enjoy playing with a doll that cries, and stops when you give him the pacifier. Instead, you were concerned, astounded, and almost started crying. We asked you to hold him, give him a pacifier, and make him feel better. "You are his mommy, hold him," we said. You did, reluctantly, and you were deeply disturbed. For a few minutes you were torn between pushing him away, and pleasing us. The pacifier fell. He started crying again. You pleaded we make him stop.
I don't know for sure what disturbed you: Was it Jacob's crying or the process of putting in the batteries, which you described as "surgery"?
We took out the batteries which made you feel better, but you were still affected by the experience. At dinner, you asked for your doll Susan, which you never do while eating. Maybe you wanted to show us that you did care about your "babies." Just not Jacob at the moment. You didn't want Jacob close to you and it bothered you to look at him.
First we tried an emotional approach, telling you that we loved you even when you cried, then a rational approach, explaining how batteries work - "they make your flashlight shine, and your other dolls sing." I told you about a doll I had when I was your age that could walk when we put batteries inside. You listened, and understood. I put Jacob visible in your room, in his stroller, so you see him often, and get over the fear. We thought that all was well. The next evening you told papa "we should give Jacob away and get another doll." Later I asked you if you liked Jacob. You didn't say no. Instead you said you liked Andre, a friend of yours from daycare. Tonight we'll make muffins. Maybe we can give one to Jacob.
Kiss,
Mommy
I don't know for sure what disturbed you: Was it Jacob's crying or the process of putting in the batteries, which you described as "surgery"?
We took out the batteries which made you feel better, but you were still affected by the experience. At dinner, you asked for your doll Susan, which you never do while eating. Maybe you wanted to show us that you did care about your "babies." Just not Jacob at the moment. You didn't want Jacob close to you and it bothered you to look at him.
First we tried an emotional approach, telling you that we loved you even when you cried, then a rational approach, explaining how batteries work - "they make your flashlight shine, and your other dolls sing." I told you about a doll I had when I was your age that could walk when we put batteries inside. You listened, and understood. I put Jacob visible in your room, in his stroller, so you see him often, and get over the fear. We thought that all was well. The next evening you told papa "we should give Jacob away and get another doll." Later I asked you if you liked Jacob. You didn't say no. Instead you said you liked Andre, a friend of yours from daycare. Tonight we'll make muffins. Maybe we can give one to Jacob.
Kiss,
Mommy
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Chocolate factory and other adventures
My little Zoe,
About 3 weeks ago you were sitting on the potty with the tablet on your lap, playing a game, relaxing, like papa taught you, by taking a big breath, and dropping your arms to the side. We were trying to get you to poop. Then there was sound, to which you responded 'it's just gas." But when we looked, it was poop! We all rejoiced, and hugs, kisses, and chocolate followed. Papa declared that the next day, we are going to the chocolate factory. At Theos Chocolate Factory you had many samples and learned about the art of chocolate making. We also bought some to bring home, since chocolate has been your reward / bribe, in the process of potty training for poop.
Unfortunately, this potty experience has not been a turning point in your poop practices. You still prefer to poop on yourself, and with our insistence, you poop in the potty 50% of the time. If left to your heart's desire, you walk away, pretending to be interested in a toy or a game, and secretly push out your business. The other night, I attempted to come near you, and you shooed me away with the authority of a school teacher "Go back to your seat, Mom!"
At times we give you chocolate randomly, but ask that you promise to poop in the potty later. You promise, but don't always keep your word. I think you generalize this practice of post potty chocolate to everyone in the family. Sometimes I get chocolate for you and papa on the way from work, and you say with comprehension "papa will eat it when he poops in the potty."
You've grown a lot since we moved to Seattle. You're a little person running around the house, talking, passing opinions and doing whatever she wants. When I come home from work, you are ready to play. Lately, the dinner table has been your tent. The Swifer mop your witch's broom. "Come on, hop on the broom," you say, and we fly. "Come on, get in the tent. You are Zoe, I am mommy, papa can be the monster." You get excited, run around screaming, and pull me to the bathroom for hiding, so the monster won't catch us. Then your eyes set on the chest in the corner, and we go treasure hunting, sneaking around papa, who is instructed by you to play the part of the gatto who wants the chest.
The other day I put a tutu skirt on you and gave you a kitchen brush as your magic wand. You were ecstatic in your role as a fairy. Running around, beaming with joy, swooshing your wand and making wishes. We look at you and marvel how easy it is to make a child happy. "I wishhhhhhhhh that you play with me!" How can we say no to that? "Let's go to my room." In your room, you get on your tiptoes, and turn on the light. Just a few weeks ago, you would call me and say "it's spooky here. Make it light."
Here is the tricky part to all this playtime that only parents know. We do all this while putting our work stuff away, preparing dinner and taking care of all the household chores that need to be done before bedtime. But you know we have to go to work and understand why "you go to work so you can buy me toys." Even though I said I have to work to buy toilette paper, pay for parking at the zoo, pay for daycare and the house we live in, the toy part stuck more.
We are so lucky to have you, Zoe.
Kiss
Mommy
About 3 weeks ago you were sitting on the potty with the tablet on your lap, playing a game, relaxing, like papa taught you, by taking a big breath, and dropping your arms to the side. We were trying to get you to poop. Then there was sound, to which you responded 'it's just gas." But when we looked, it was poop! We all rejoiced, and hugs, kisses, and chocolate followed. Papa declared that the next day, we are going to the chocolate factory. At Theos Chocolate Factory you had many samples and learned about the art of chocolate making. We also bought some to bring home, since chocolate has been your reward / bribe, in the process of potty training for poop.
Unfortunately, this potty experience has not been a turning point in your poop practices. You still prefer to poop on yourself, and with our insistence, you poop in the potty 50% of the time. If left to your heart's desire, you walk away, pretending to be interested in a toy or a game, and secretly push out your business. The other night, I attempted to come near you, and you shooed me away with the authority of a school teacher "Go back to your seat, Mom!"
At times we give you chocolate randomly, but ask that you promise to poop in the potty later. You promise, but don't always keep your word. I think you generalize this practice of post potty chocolate to everyone in the family. Sometimes I get chocolate for you and papa on the way from work, and you say with comprehension "papa will eat it when he poops in the potty."
You've grown a lot since we moved to Seattle. You're a little person running around the house, talking, passing opinions and doing whatever she wants. When I come home from work, you are ready to play. Lately, the dinner table has been your tent. The Swifer mop your witch's broom. "Come on, hop on the broom," you say, and we fly. "Come on, get in the tent. You are Zoe, I am mommy, papa can be the monster." You get excited, run around screaming, and pull me to the bathroom for hiding, so the monster won't catch us. Then your eyes set on the chest in the corner, and we go treasure hunting, sneaking around papa, who is instructed by you to play the part of the gatto who wants the chest.
The other day I put a tutu skirt on you and gave you a kitchen brush as your magic wand. You were ecstatic in your role as a fairy. Running around, beaming with joy, swooshing your wand and making wishes. We look at you and marvel how easy it is to make a child happy. "I wishhhhhhhhh that you play with me!" How can we say no to that? "Let's go to my room." In your room, you get on your tiptoes, and turn on the light. Just a few weeks ago, you would call me and say "it's spooky here. Make it light."
Here is the tricky part to all this playtime that only parents know. We do all this while putting our work stuff away, preparing dinner and taking care of all the household chores that need to be done before bedtime. But you know we have to go to work and understand why "you go to work so you can buy me toys." Even though I said I have to work to buy toilette paper, pay for parking at the zoo, pay for daycare and the house we live in, the toy part stuck more.
We are so lucky to have you, Zoe.
Kiss
Mommy
Monday, November 19, 2012
We are in Seattle!
My little girl,
On October 19 we got on an airplane and moved to Seattle. You, me, papa, and the gatto. Poor gatto wasn't happy during the flight. For about two weeks, we all stayed at the little room where papa lived while we were still in Austin. Tiny and dirty. One day, you politely said that you liked the blue house better - referring to the one in Austin - and that you wanted to go to your daycare. I explained, trying to hide all emotions, that we would soon move to a nice big house, and that a big truck would bring your crib and all your toys. A few days later, during a usual resistance to bath time, you swung your index finger up and down in one big move of defiance, and declared "I don't like this house!" Both papa and I tried to explain again that this was a temporary place which we didn't like either, and that soon we would be move to a big house, you would have a pretty room with orange walls.
Next day it was my turn to be upset. I don't remember what triggered it. Was it because I was allergic in the house and couldn't stop coughing due to gatto's nearby poop box? Because we had to be out all day, without a car, and it hadn't stopped raining since our arrival? Was it because you were forever potty training and it was inconvenient more than ever to clean and change? Or because you wouldn't let me be on the phone for interviews and appointments? Maybe it was because you spilled all the lentils on the already dirty floor although I asked you to be careful. All that said, probably I got upset not because of you, but because of something papa hasn't done, that exasperated given the circumstances. So you came to me and said "Mommy, I will make you happy in this little house." Every parent can recognize how special that statement is.
Speaking of making your parents happy: Every time we get a little upset for whatever reason - you insist on pooping on yourself and deny it, kick us, scream in public, or don't clean up after yourself - you say "you are happy! You are happy!" If we reply in the negative, such as no Zoe, we are sad / disappointed / angry, you get very upset and start crying. I think these things mean something more to you. And when I say "Zoe, you make me happy all the time," you become very content.
Love,
Mommy
On October 19 we got on an airplane and moved to Seattle. You, me, papa, and the gatto. Poor gatto wasn't happy during the flight. For about two weeks, we all stayed at the little room where papa lived while we were still in Austin. Tiny and dirty. One day, you politely said that you liked the blue house better - referring to the one in Austin - and that you wanted to go to your daycare. I explained, trying to hide all emotions, that we would soon move to a nice big house, and that a big truck would bring your crib and all your toys. A few days later, during a usual resistance to bath time, you swung your index finger up and down in one big move of defiance, and declared "I don't like this house!" Both papa and I tried to explain again that this was a temporary place which we didn't like either, and that soon we would be move to a big house, you would have a pretty room with orange walls.
Next day it was my turn to be upset. I don't remember what triggered it. Was it because I was allergic in the house and couldn't stop coughing due to gatto's nearby poop box? Because we had to be out all day, without a car, and it hadn't stopped raining since our arrival? Was it because you were forever potty training and it was inconvenient more than ever to clean and change? Or because you wouldn't let me be on the phone for interviews and appointments? Maybe it was because you spilled all the lentils on the already dirty floor although I asked you to be careful. All that said, probably I got upset not because of you, but because of something papa hasn't done, that exasperated given the circumstances. So you came to me and said "Mommy, I will make you happy in this little house." Every parent can recognize how special that statement is.
Speaking of making your parents happy: Every time we get a little upset for whatever reason - you insist on pooping on yourself and deny it, kick us, scream in public, or don't clean up after yourself - you say "you are happy! You are happy!" If we reply in the negative, such as no Zoe, we are sad / disappointed / angry, you get very upset and start crying. I think these things mean something more to you. And when I say "Zoe, you make me happy all the time," you become very content.
Love,
Mommy
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Your words of wisdom
Dear Zoe,
It must be nice to speak your mind without being inhibited by politeness or decency. Here are some of your latest declarations:
"Put milk in your boobs."
"You are a good cleaner. I will let you clean my butt."
"You should buy me this."
Zoe: "I smell something."
Mommy: "What is it?"
Zoe: "It's my poop."
A sound from Zoe's butt: "Prrt."
Zoe: "It's gas. We should go to the gas station."
"Nine [grandma Roza] is old."
Kiss,
Mommy
It must be nice to speak your mind without being inhibited by politeness or decency. Here are some of your latest declarations:
"Put milk in your boobs."
"You are a good cleaner. I will let you clean my butt."
"You should buy me this."
Zoe: "I smell something."
Mommy: "What is it?"
Zoe: "It's my poop."
A sound from Zoe's butt: "Prrt."
Zoe: "It's gas. We should go to the gas station."
"Nine [grandma Roza] is old."
Kiss,
Mommy
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Dr. Zoe
I was wearing a T-Shirt stamped with cat heads. You looked at it and asked if i was going to the hospital. I couldn't see the connection at first, but then I remembered that the only other time I wore that shirt was when I went for my last surgery. It was almost a month a go. I can't believe you remembered this detail.
Lately, you've been playing the doctor, referring to yourself as Dr. Tony, the pediatric orthopedist that looked at your cute little feet and gave you a lolly pop. You liked him before we went to his office, thinking his name was Dr. Pony! When you two met, you pointed at yourself and said "I'm a doctor." So I bought you a doctor's bag.
Yesterday, you decided we needed to go to the hospital, and do surgery on my nose. As you led me to the "hospital" you said "I'm not a bad doctor, I'm just small." It takes a lot observation, thought, and awareness to know that a doctor should be older, and that a patient would be nervous if he/she is not, and that reassurance is needed. You always surprise me with your intelligence.
You told me that the surgery is not going to hurt, and operated on me using all your tools.
"Am I ok,Dr.?"
"Not yet."
Then suddenly you declared I was a donkey and started riding on my belly.
Love,
Mommy
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
$25 kids' meal
At a Japanese restaurant in Seattle, we ordered some sashimi and sushi samplers, and some pieces with cooked fish for you. When the plate with colorful raw fish arrived, you dug in, picking one piece after another, dipped each in the spicy soy-wasabi, and gobbled it down, the previous piece still hanging from the side of your mouth. We attempted to take a few pieces, but quickly found the effort futile and ordered another plate to share between me and papa.
Papa took you to your very first soccer game, wearing the Seattle team jersey he bought for you online. At the game you watched people kick the ball, and ate chips. Meanwhile I took advantage of a rare chance to be alone, rented a bicycle and explored the town. In the afternoon i took you to a playground where you pretended to drive me to a soccer game. You gave me a soccer shirt, and chips to eat.
Not that you ever want to go to bed. But when we go to Seattle, it's even worse. Anything to get between a private moment between me and papa.
At daycare, Ms. Elena taught you about Beethoven. When you hear classical music, you point at the space between your ear and where the music flows and say "this is Beethoven."
We've been potty training. First day without diapers you had three accidents at daycare. Ms. Elena looked worn out and frustrated when I picked you up, and at night she told her husband about you. Since then, you made progress. Days when I come home with a bag of dirty laundry are getting lesser and lesser. Some days, you make it through daycare with no accident at all. Unfortunate at home it is a different story. With me, you act as though potty training never existed. When papa is around, you tell us when you need potty. Why not when it's only the two of us? Today I bought a box of dried cranberries. I decided to bribe you. For every potty you will get three cranberries. You've already proven that you are smarter than me. When you wanted to eat cranberries, you said you needed potty, although only one drop came out. Later you peed in your diapers again.
You love listening to stories from when you were a baby. "Tell me a story about baby Zoe." "Tell me another story..."
Kiss,
Mommy.
Papa took you to your very first soccer game, wearing the Seattle team jersey he bought for you online. At the game you watched people kick the ball, and ate chips. Meanwhile I took advantage of a rare chance to be alone, rented a bicycle and explored the town. In the afternoon i took you to a playground where you pretended to drive me to a soccer game. You gave me a soccer shirt, and chips to eat.
Not that you ever want to go to bed. But when we go to Seattle, it's even worse. Anything to get between a private moment between me and papa.
At daycare, Ms. Elena taught you about Beethoven. When you hear classical music, you point at the space between your ear and where the music flows and say "this is Beethoven."
We've been potty training. First day without diapers you had three accidents at daycare. Ms. Elena looked worn out and frustrated when I picked you up, and at night she told her husband about you. Since then, you made progress. Days when I come home with a bag of dirty laundry are getting lesser and lesser. Some days, you make it through daycare with no accident at all. Unfortunate at home it is a different story. With me, you act as though potty training never existed. When papa is around, you tell us when you need potty. Why not when it's only the two of us? Today I bought a box of dried cranberries. I decided to bribe you. For every potty you will get three cranberries. You've already proven that you are smarter than me. When you wanted to eat cranberries, you said you needed potty, although only one drop came out. Later you peed in your diapers again.
You love listening to stories from when you were a baby. "Tell me a story about baby Zoe." "Tell me another story..."
Kiss,
Mommy.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Post surgery
Mommy, did you have surgery?
Yes, baby.
Can I kiss it?
Yes, baby.
I love you.
I love you too, my Zoe. I'm so lucky to have you.
I have a motherly lecture for you:
We went through some tough months lately, family being apart, papa having to live without us, with his sandwich nights in a dirty little room, me dealing with health issues, surgeries, and looking after you in a way that makes me proud and you happy... What makes our family strong is that we are strong individually. Know that you come from tough parents, and be a tough cookie - you already show signs.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Developments at 2 years plus
I used to roll my eyes, listening to parents tell how many times they celebrated their child's birthday that year... After we celebrated yours in Seattle with papa, we celebrated it again in Austin, with Nine, and again, at daycare, with your friends. Your happy face, your awareness of being the special child for the day - all worth breaking my views prior to motherhood.
We also went to the doctor for your wellness exam. You sealed your first two years of life at 88cm and 12kg.
Your linguistic development broke loose, and has been leaving us spell-bound daily... and sometimes sad. Papa's last night in Austin, you sat on his lap, and concluded your story with "I will never see you again." And when you and I came back from Seattle the other day, you said "I miss papa, I want to live with papa, I want to hug him..." and then you added "I want to kiss him."
When I'm driving: "Be careful mom, a car is coming."
At all times: "Do you want to play with me, mommy?"
Talking to the statue of a troll under a bridge in Seattle: "Bye Troll, I will come visit you again later," and turning to papa to explain your behavior, "I used my manners."
"I want a purple plump." - meaning, plum.
Tomorrow, you are moving up a class at daycare. This move is earlier than planned, but you are sharp as a knife, and you learn fast ,and you know and love the teacher and the students. So you'll be fine. Best of all, your teacher, Elena, will insist on potty training. Tomorrow we will go to daycare with underwear. No diapers!
Kiss
Mommy
We also went to the doctor for your wellness exam. You sealed your first two years of life at 88cm and 12kg.
Your linguistic development broke loose, and has been leaving us spell-bound daily... and sometimes sad. Papa's last night in Austin, you sat on his lap, and concluded your story with "I will never see you again." And when you and I came back from Seattle the other day, you said "I miss papa, I want to live with papa, I want to hug him..." and then you added "I want to kiss him."
When I'm driving: "Be careful mom, a car is coming."
At all times: "Do you want to play with me, mommy?"
Talking to the statue of a troll under a bridge in Seattle: "Bye Troll, I will come visit you again later," and turning to papa to explain your behavior, "I used my manners."
"I want a purple plump." - meaning, plum.
Tomorrow, you are moving up a class at daycare. This move is earlier than planned, but you are sharp as a knife, and you learn fast ,and you know and love the teacher and the students. So you'll be fine. Best of all, your teacher, Elena, will insist on potty training. Tomorrow we will go to daycare with underwear. No diapers!
Kiss
Mommy
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Papa made poop
My little girl,
You were playing in the bathroom, while papa was taking a bath. Then you looked at him studying his body, pointed at his crotch, and said "papa made a poop." We smiled, appreciating your logic, and explained that it was not poop. Papa is a boy, and you and mommy are girls, we said.
Love,
Mommy
You were playing in the bathroom, while papa was taking a bath. Then you looked at him studying his body, pointed at his crotch, and said "papa made a poop." We smiled, appreciating your logic, and explained that it was not poop. Papa is a boy, and you and mommy are girls, we said.
Love,
Mommy
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Visiting Papa in Seattle
Months passed and your birthday did not arrive. Listening to you talk about it changed from adorable to sad. You've been waking up singing "happy birthday to Zoe," asking "is it my birthday?" and talking about cakes. I said "not yet," "soon," and tried to explain the right date through references to moon's cycles, since you are familiar with the concept. Just so you knew I wasn't giving false hope, I described the things we would do on your birthday. A big round cake with candles, balloons, boxes wrapped in colorful papers with surprise gifts inside, and the "happy birthday to Zoe" song - things you witnessed in books and through friends' birthdays. But the disappointment in your eyes got deeper each day it was not your birthday. Your agony was a consequence of your intelligence. Most kids your age don't know birthdays. Your awareness turned this waiting into a demoralizing experience, and I decided to end it.
We bought tickets to visit papa in Seattle two weeks before your birthday. What better time to celebrate, with papa present, and only two weeks away from the real date? Plans were made, gifts researched, bought, wrapped, hid away. As time approached, excitement rose. Papa's text messages poured in, impatient to see us. Papa researched all things to do to make our visit fun. Zoo, aquarium, the Tutankhamen exhibit... We refined details of your birthday party, taking into account the time difference, meals and nap time so you make the most of it without interference of physical needs.
Close to midnight, on June 28, you were bouncing in papa's arms at the Seattle airport, smelling the bouquet of flowers he handed to me. The next day, we bought balloons and a lemon birthday cake, insisting that the unwilling baker add extra flowers and butterflies, and secretly brought it all to papa's tiny residence. When you woke up from your nap, the scene was ready!
That big box contains many boxes of nicely wrapped gifts. And don't miss the ones under the coffee table.
Your pretty cake:
Blowing the candles:
The rest of our trip was awesome too. Seattle's friendly weather - yes, coming from Texas... - and European civic sense allowed us to enjoy the streets and parks on foot. We experienced the beauty nature could offer, without mosquitoes or heat.
At the zoo:
At the aquarium, avoiding to touch the sea creatures:
They still gave you a whale face paint:
At the park, being chased by papa:
On a tree, monkeying with mommy:
The three of us shared the big bed each night and were all very sad to separate when departure day came. The morning after, while taking a bath, you asked about papa. I told you that he will come to see you very soon.
Love,
Mommy.
We bought tickets to visit papa in Seattle two weeks before your birthday. What better time to celebrate, with papa present, and only two weeks away from the real date? Plans were made, gifts researched, bought, wrapped, hid away. As time approached, excitement rose. Papa's text messages poured in, impatient to see us. Papa researched all things to do to make our visit fun. Zoo, aquarium, the Tutankhamen exhibit... We refined details of your birthday party, taking into account the time difference, meals and nap time so you make the most of it without interference of physical needs.
Close to midnight, on June 28, you were bouncing in papa's arms at the Seattle airport, smelling the bouquet of flowers he handed to me. The next day, we bought balloons and a lemon birthday cake, insisting that the unwilling baker add extra flowers and butterflies, and secretly brought it all to papa's tiny residence. When you woke up from your nap, the scene was ready!
That big box contains many boxes of nicely wrapped gifts. And don't miss the ones under the coffee table.
Blowing the candles:
The rest of our trip was awesome too. Seattle's friendly weather - yes, coming from Texas... - and European civic sense allowed us to enjoy the streets and parks on foot. We experienced the beauty nature could offer, without mosquitoes or heat.
At the zoo:
At the aquarium, avoiding to touch the sea creatures:
They still gave you a whale face paint:
At the park, being chased by papa:
On a tree, monkeying with mommy:
The three of us shared the big bed each night and were all very sad to separate when departure day came. The morning after, while taking a bath, you asked about papa. I told you that he will come to see you very soon.
Love,
Mommy.
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