You were hanging next to me while I was standing barefoot, ironing.
I asked: "Zoe, could you please bring me my flip flops?
You turned around, left the room, and came back carrying my flip flops in your hand.
My jaw dropped. When did you start understanding so well? What else do you know? It's like yesterday that you were barely crawling.
Love,
Mommy
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Mucous
Little Zoe,
On our first visit to daycare, I was surprised at how much nose drip all babies had, and was proud of how clean and dry you were. Well, it took one week for you to catch up. Now, you, like the rest of the babies, have mucous oozing down your nose. You got sick, passed it on to me, and recovered, until next time. Your nose was stuffy, you were coughing, and had mucous in your eyes even. They say it's normal when you are in daycare.
I don't like your daycare. I already complained twice. I hope they don't take it out on you. I complained about a teacher that lost it during lunch time, and dragged two kids on their knees, pushed a third one on the floor, and threw the food of another across the table, and it spilled. All in my presence. This was right before I started working. Yesterday I complained again, when I realized that they have not been giving you water to drink all day. Today when I picked you up, they pulled your cup out of the fridge, with water in it. Every time I pick you up, the teachers tell me that you had a great day, you slept for almost two hours, and that you ate everything. Sounds suspicious, as this contradicts with what I see when I visit. Today aunt Gaia visited you during lunch and she helped you finish your meal, because you were not eating fast enough. Yes, Aunt Gaia is here to see you. Yesterday she visited you during snack time, and said that every child received a banana piece, two centimeters long. The teacher must have seen the shock in her eyes, and gave you an extra piece. Poor babies. Poor Charlotte, with her terrible butt rash. She looked at me with terror in her eyes, asking for help. I didn't understand why. Then I saw her rash. Knowing it was changing time, she anticipated the pain, and sought rescue. How she was fighting and crying with pain, while the teacher was rough-handling her. I was so tempted to offer to change her myself. Instead, I put your shoes on, and left the place as fast as I could.
Baby pick-up time at the daycare is magical. Parents rush in after a long day's work, glowing with smiles, eager to claim and hold their babies. Other babies watch the reunion with no trace of smile, waiting for their own parents. Some cry. September 5 is a holiday. We will have three days, all for ourselves.
Kiss,
Mommy.
On our first visit to daycare, I was surprised at how much nose drip all babies had, and was proud of how clean and dry you were. Well, it took one week for you to catch up. Now, you, like the rest of the babies, have mucous oozing down your nose. You got sick, passed it on to me, and recovered, until next time. Your nose was stuffy, you were coughing, and had mucous in your eyes even. They say it's normal when you are in daycare.
I don't like your daycare. I already complained twice. I hope they don't take it out on you. I complained about a teacher that lost it during lunch time, and dragged two kids on their knees, pushed a third one on the floor, and threw the food of another across the table, and it spilled. All in my presence. This was right before I started working. Yesterday I complained again, when I realized that they have not been giving you water to drink all day. Today when I picked you up, they pulled your cup out of the fridge, with water in it. Every time I pick you up, the teachers tell me that you had a great day, you slept for almost two hours, and that you ate everything. Sounds suspicious, as this contradicts with what I see when I visit. Today aunt Gaia visited you during lunch and she helped you finish your meal, because you were not eating fast enough. Yes, Aunt Gaia is here to see you. Yesterday she visited you during snack time, and said that every child received a banana piece, two centimeters long. The teacher must have seen the shock in her eyes, and gave you an extra piece. Poor babies. Poor Charlotte, with her terrible butt rash. She looked at me with terror in her eyes, asking for help. I didn't understand why. Then I saw her rash. Knowing it was changing time, she anticipated the pain, and sought rescue. How she was fighting and crying with pain, while the teacher was rough-handling her. I was so tempted to offer to change her myself. Instead, I put your shoes on, and left the place as fast as I could.
Baby pick-up time at the daycare is magical. Parents rush in after a long day's work, glowing with smiles, eager to claim and hold their babies. Other babies watch the reunion with no trace of smile, waiting for their own parents. Some cry. September 5 is a holiday. We will have three days, all for ourselves.
Kiss,
Mommy.
Monday, August 15, 2011
First day at work
Lovely Zoe,
Today was my first day at work. Papa took you to daycare for the first time. I'm never happy to pass my mommy duties on to anyone. No matter how well Papa takes care of you, and he does, no one can know your needs like I do. The few bites of banana or bread you eat right after I put you in your car seat, or the sips of milk you accept before I say good bye at daycare, no one can figure out such details of your morning feeding.
The drive from work to daycare was long and stressful, and had I not violated a few minor traffic laws, I would not have made it. When I arrived, you were in the yard, when you saw me, you almost cried, but your expression, quickly turned into a smile. I flung the gates open, ran down the stairs, and showered you in hugs and kisses. Now it was my turn to cry, the quilt of having left you there until close time. In a few months I'll be working from home once a week. In those days I will be able to pick you up earlier, and maybe even visit you for lunch.
Here are some other developments lately:
I found you standing on your toes, with my keys in hand, trying to reach the door lock. Apparently, you took the keys from my bag, and figured out what to do with them.
Since you discovered walking, you crawl no more. You stand up and walk.
Today was my first day at work. Papa took you to daycare for the first time. I'm never happy to pass my mommy duties on to anyone. No matter how well Papa takes care of you, and he does, no one can know your needs like I do. The few bites of banana or bread you eat right after I put you in your car seat, or the sips of milk you accept before I say good bye at daycare, no one can figure out such details of your morning feeding.
The drive from work to daycare was long and stressful, and had I not violated a few minor traffic laws, I would not have made it. When I arrived, you were in the yard, when you saw me, you almost cried, but your expression, quickly turned into a smile. I flung the gates open, ran down the stairs, and showered you in hugs and kisses. Now it was my turn to cry, the quilt of having left you there until close time. In a few months I'll be working from home once a week. In those days I will be able to pick you up earlier, and maybe even visit you for lunch.
Here are some other developments lately:
I found you standing on your toes, with my keys in hand, trying to reach the door lock. Apparently, you took the keys from my bag, and figured out what to do with them.
Since you discovered walking, you crawl no more. You stand up and walk.
You are fascinated by brushing your teeth. You've observed me go through the steps: take the brush, put the paste on, hold it under the water for a second and brush. You ask for your brush, and unless I do all the steps, you are not satisfied. Then you start brushing, in your own way. I wish you'd let us do it for you for now, but when we try, you clench your mouth. Only you are allowed to brush your teeth.
I can't take you to book stores. You empty the shelves just like you do at home.
Kiss,
Mommy.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Daycare
Little Zoe,
It's that time of life. I start working, you start daycare. We have two weeks to acclimate you. For now, you are the youngest in the class. In September, they will move the "big" kids (those who turned two) to another class, and bring in some kids your age from the class below.
Here is what we did this week as part of the acclimation process:
Day 1 - 8:30am-10:00am
We went together, and I stayed with you the whole time. You were happy to see other kids, and you mingled easily. First you played outside as I sat and watched. Then we all went inside for the morning snack. I sat you next to Ellie who was very sweet, and kept saying "Hi Zoe." When it was time to leave, you resisted my pull, and reached toward the kids, wanting to stay longer.
Day 2 - 8:15am-10:am
I stayed with you half an hour, and left. When I came back, you were in the play room, sitting on the floor, on the teacher's lap, crying, surrounded by all the children. The teacher said you just started crying, probably worried that I wasn't back yet. She said Luke brought you toys to play and cheered you up. Too bad Luke will move to a higher class in September. When we left the classroom, the kids crowded behind the door, faces and hands pressed against the glass, probably wishing their moms would take them too. Everyone who's been to daycare knows these feelings all too well, no matter how much fun they are having.
Day 3 - 8:15am-10:am
Papa and I dropped you off together and stayed for half an hour. Papa was sad to see that you were the youngest, and not as interactive as the older kids. You are new, and younger, so it's normal. On the other hand, you are more mobile and interactive than the kids in your age group. In September your class will have a good mix of kids and you will fit right in. When I came to pick you up, you were in the play room, reading books with other kids.
When you saw me, you wanted out.
Day 4
8:15am-10:am
On the drive to daycare, it took my brain several seconds to connect the smell in my nose to your bum. When we arrived, we first changed your poopy diaper. If you fought less, we could have done it faster. By the time we were done, some of the kids were outside on the playground. I stayed with you for a few minutes, kissed you goodbye, and left. When I came back, you were sitting on the teacher's lap, reading a book with Ellie.
It's that time of life. I start working, you start daycare. We have two weeks to acclimate you. For now, you are the youngest in the class. In September, they will move the "big" kids (those who turned two) to another class, and bring in some kids your age from the class below.
Here is what we did this week as part of the acclimation process:
Day 1 - 8:30am-10:00am
We went together, and I stayed with you the whole time. You were happy to see other kids, and you mingled easily. First you played outside as I sat and watched. Then we all went inside for the morning snack. I sat you next to Ellie who was very sweet, and kept saying "Hi Zoe." When it was time to leave, you resisted my pull, and reached toward the kids, wanting to stay longer.
Day 2 - 8:15am-10:am
I stayed with you half an hour, and left. When I came back, you were in the play room, sitting on the floor, on the teacher's lap, crying, surrounded by all the children. The teacher said you just started crying, probably worried that I wasn't back yet. She said Luke brought you toys to play and cheered you up. Too bad Luke will move to a higher class in September. When we left the classroom, the kids crowded behind the door, faces and hands pressed against the glass, probably wishing their moms would take them too. Everyone who's been to daycare knows these feelings all too well, no matter how much fun they are having.
Day 3 - 8:15am-10:am
Papa and I dropped you off together and stayed for half an hour. Papa was sad to see that you were the youngest, and not as interactive as the older kids. You are new, and younger, so it's normal. On the other hand, you are more mobile and interactive than the kids in your age group. In September your class will have a good mix of kids and you will fit right in. When I came to pick you up, you were in the play room, reading books with other kids.
When you saw me, you wanted out.
Day 4
8:15am-10:am
On the drive to daycare, it took my brain several seconds to connect the smell in my nose to your bum. When we arrived, we first changed your poopy diaper. If you fought less, we could have done it faster. By the time we were done, some of the kids were outside on the playground. I stayed with you for a few minutes, kissed you goodbye, and left. When I came back, you were sitting on the teacher's lap, reading a book with Ellie.
I greeted you. You were doing ok, so I went to talk to the other teacher. Two minutes later I turn around and see a teacher holding my sobbing Zoe, tears running down her eyes. I think you were upset that I just greeted you and walk away, without picking you up. Sorry little one, you seemed interested in the book. You showed it to me when I came in, and went back to reading. We quickly put on your shoes, and before we were able to leave the building, you insisted on nursing. We sat on the floor in an empty classroom, and had a long nursing session, and your face relaxed.
Day 5
8:30-12:30
Impatient to see you, I came 15 minutes early and peeked through the glass door. When you saw me, you started crying. The teacher said you did ok while I was gone, but kept going to the door looking for me.
Before we left, we had lunch with your friends. I prepared steamed carrots and broccoli, hard boiled egg, and grapes for us. Judging by the food in other kids' boxes, the parents were knowledgeable about nutrition. Too bad not much made it to the kids' stomach. Maybe it was the cheap, adult-size spoons you were given, or the lack of feeding help offered. I was relieved that no prayer was said, a rare event in a Texas daycare.
You sat next to Charlotte and across from Oona. I sat between you and Boone, who was trying to grab his rice with his hand, and losing the few grains he caught before they made it to his mouth. He gave a few desperate attempts to the long spoon, and switched back to the finger technique. He was clearly hungry. I grabbed the spoon, filled it up, and said "Boone, open your mouth - haaam." He ate, and smiled.
Across from you, Oona was engrossed in her own battle with saucy beans, also going back and forth between the ridiculous spoon and her little hand. Between you and Boon, by the time I was able to assist her, she spilled her bean box on the floor and on her lap. She had a squeezy bag of fruit paste which she didn't know how to use, so she moved on to eat Boone's grapes. In about 15 minutes the teacher started "asking" if you were all done and rushed everyone to clean and nap.
The quiet Charlotte obeyed the teacher's orders and got up, looking at her unfinished scrambled eggs. "You didn't like your eggs?" the teacher asked. She probably did. Charlotte looked like a child who enjoyed food, if she only was given some time to eat! She eyed your grapes shyly, and you offered her one. She dropped it, and got under the table to get it. On her way up she hit her head, and returned the grape to you. I wish she would have eaten the grape.
The whole lunch scene was sad and absurd, especially for an expensive daycare in a high end neighborhood - you can tell by the children's names. It got me thinking that I should have put you in a daycare on the East side, with Hispanic teachers, who are more maternal and more likely to feed the babies. The teacher explained that babies need practice to learn to eat on their own. Can't they also put a few bites in your mouths while you're practicing?
After lunch, as the babies were getting ready for their nap, you were ready to leave for the weekend.
Impatient to see you, I came 15 minutes early and peeked through the glass door. When you saw me, you started crying. The teacher said you did ok while I was gone, but kept going to the door looking for me.
Before we left, we had lunch with your friends. I prepared steamed carrots and broccoli, hard boiled egg, and grapes for us. Judging by the food in other kids' boxes, the parents were knowledgeable about nutrition. Too bad not much made it to the kids' stomach. Maybe it was the cheap, adult-size spoons you were given, or the lack of feeding help offered. I was relieved that no prayer was said, a rare event in a Texas daycare.
You sat next to Charlotte and across from Oona. I sat between you and Boone, who was trying to grab his rice with his hand, and losing the few grains he caught before they made it to his mouth. He gave a few desperate attempts to the long spoon, and switched back to the finger technique. He was clearly hungry. I grabbed the spoon, filled it up, and said "Boone, open your mouth - haaam." He ate, and smiled.
Across from you, Oona was engrossed in her own battle with saucy beans, also going back and forth between the ridiculous spoon and her little hand. Between you and Boon, by the time I was able to assist her, she spilled her bean box on the floor and on her lap. She had a squeezy bag of fruit paste which she didn't know how to use, so she moved on to eat Boone's grapes. In about 15 minutes the teacher started "asking" if you were all done and rushed everyone to clean and nap.
The quiet Charlotte obeyed the teacher's orders and got up, looking at her unfinished scrambled eggs. "You didn't like your eggs?" the teacher asked. She probably did. Charlotte looked like a child who enjoyed food, if she only was given some time to eat! She eyed your grapes shyly, and you offered her one. She dropped it, and got under the table to get it. On her way up she hit her head, and returned the grape to you. I wish she would have eaten the grape.
The whole lunch scene was sad and absurd, especially for an expensive daycare in a high end neighborhood - you can tell by the children's names. It got me thinking that I should have put you in a daycare on the East side, with Hispanic teachers, who are more maternal and more likely to feed the babies. The teacher explained that babies need practice to learn to eat on their own. Can't they also put a few bites in your mouths while you're practicing?
After lunch, as the babies were getting ready for their nap, you were ready to leave for the weekend.
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