Many ways to eat a pb&j sandwich

Hi little one,

After all of the cookies you've eaten over the last three days, today we went back to basics with a pb&j sandwich. Sprouted barley bread, natural PB, and strawberry fruit spread sweetened with juice.

I added a cup of milk (muk!) and walked away for a few minutes as you started eating. You picked up an isosceles triangle of sandwich, dipped it in your milk, sucked the milk out of the sandwich and then ate it.

I've been around a while, but I've never heard of eating a sandwich quite that way before.

Now you are soaking your nails in the milk, which really isn't necessary as you have unbreakable nails already.

I love you.
Mommy

Way-va's Second Christmas

Hi my little love,

As we could have predicted, you made out like a bandit this Christmas. Your Auntie Susi and Uncle John spoiled you with sparkly new pj's, play-doh in abundance and a fabulous Mister Potato Head. Your Grandma Bear spoiled you utterly and completely with toys, books, and clothes to last until high school. Not really, but at least to last until you're three. Her best idea though was from Build A Bear. She built you a lavendar teddy bear that says in her voice:

"Ava, this is Grandma Bear, and I...love...you." I was instructed to play it to you every night before you go to sleep so she knows your voice.

Last night we were at Great-Grandpa Jerry's for the every other year traditional Edson family Christmas. You had fun running around the house, and I had fun not worrying about what kind of trouble you would find. You love playing with your cousins and following around the bigger girls. All of my aunts and uncles were impressed by how independent you are and yet always seem to know where Mommy is.

This Christmas has been my best ever. Last night I had you and your Daddy with me in Sacramento. We went to five houses and sang carols to the neighbors. Yes, when your Great Grandma Susie was around we would have sang to twenty houses all the way down the block, but this time it was five. I don't know what it is about caroling that brings tears to my eyes, but caroling means Christmas to me. We open our hearts and our voices join together in an imperfect harmony and we share love with others. We give a gift so big that it can't be measured in dollars and packaged in brightly wrapped boxes.

This year I got to share the experience with you and Daddy, not to mention Grandma Bear, Great Grandpa Jerry, your aunt, uncle, and cousins, and the rest of our noisy festive bunch.

Then after caroling we opened presents to each other, followed by nibbling on all of the baked delights our family is so good at making. Then, came the time honored tradition of the gift exchange.

Each grown up brings a gift priced at about $25, wrapped brightly. We cut up the numbers of an old calendar and each take a number to determine our ordering. Number one picks a gift. Number two can steal number one's gift or take a new one. New rules this year eliminated family collusion and stealing of the same gift more than once by any single person.

I'm delighted to say that your Daddy's exchange gift was the hottest item. It also helped that there were two of them.

I'm sure some day you will experience the overwhelming love and magic that I have in the last twenty four hours.

For now, you've opened your gifts from Daddy and I, including a fabulous art easel and a wooden tool box. We spoiled you a little, but not as much as everyone else!

The way I see it, as I told your Daddy, if you weren't such a fabulous little girl, you wouldn't be spoiled so much!

But I better make breakfast for the three of us before we need to leave for our friends' house for dinner today.

I love you sweet girl. Merry Christmas.

Boo-bah and Baby Eye-sty

Hi my sweet girl,

You are rapidly toddling your way into being two years old. Sure, you have just shy of four months to go, but the intermittent tantrums have arrived as well as many new words.

The tantrums, they come without warning and cannot always be tied to exhaustion or starvation. Sometimes they are just because. As long as I am well rested and not hungry myself, they don't bother me much. I can nearly always (with exceptions noted above) let you have your tantrum without trying to fix it or get angry about it. After all, it's not about me.

You have fallen in love, head over heels, with Baby Eye-sty. For those not familiar with toddler vocabulary, this means Baby Einstein videos.

"Baby eye-sty," you say, pointing at the TV. "Baby eye-sty!!!" you exclaim, when you find the video case.

Grandma Bear doesn't know what kind of favor she did us when she gave you those videos before you were born. They entertained you when you were three months old, but now they are a big, BIG hit. They entertain you so well now that I use them to relax you before bedtime. They are the only thing I know of, besides tortillas (tee-ahs!) that guarantee your complete attention.

I like them for that reason, but also because they're helping with your vocabulary. From Baby Galileo you've learned to recognize and say moon, star, sun, planet, and cloud. From Baby Doolittle you've learned dog, cat, cow, sheep, pig, and mouse. From Baby Van Gough you've learned to paint masterpieces. Not really, but it sounded good, didn't it?

There are more, but I want to tell you about boo-bah.

Boo-bah.

No, it's not that strange fuzzy toy I saw advertised last Christmas. Anyone in our studio audience have a guess as to what it is?

Give up?

You'll never guess. I swear.

Okay, I'll tell.

Toothbrush. Boo-bah is your name for toothbrush.

You love brushing your teeth. You tolerate me brushing your teeth as long as you get to hold a second toothbrush, and when I'm done, you get to brush my teeth.

We have a deal, you and I. In the morning you brush your own teeth. At night, I do it.

This week you got upset after I brushed your teeth because you saw me flossing my teeth and wanted some of that too. Yes, at nearly 21 months old, you wanted your teeth flossed. If I'm not careful you get floss out of the garbage (yuck!) so now I give you some floss and you diligently put it between your teeth. I make sure I put used floss in the big kitchen garbage so you don't go after it.

Again you are many steps ahead of me. It took me until three months ago to start flossing my teeth every day and you have started before your second birthday.

Boo-bah and Baby Eye-Sty. These are the center of your world.

I love you sweet girl. In a few days I'll tell you about your second Christmas.

Mommy

Not exactly what Clinique had in mind

You discovered my Clinque Angel Red lipstick, although I doubt it was intended to be eyeshadow.

Picture time!

I just noticed there have been no pictures in ages, so here goes...

Ava has figured out how to get around being vertically challenged.














Ava putting on her overalls, not exactly the right way.















Ava in her party dress and beads, next to the bathtub.















Ava playing with sand at the beach.

Bye-bye kitty-cat

Hi my little love,

You are saying lots of words now, so many I've lost count. What your Daddy and I love the most though is when we're leaving the house you turn to look inside and wave, saying "Bye-bye kitty cat."

You say this predictably every time we leave and many other times throughout the day. Bye bye kitty cat.

Where did you get this? Do I say goodbye to the cats when I leave in the morning? It seems extremely important to you that you tell the cats goodbye before you leave. After all, they need to know. Now that you're leaving they can fully relax and take that big nap they had planned for after your departure.

If this is the case, I can understand. It's quite considerate of you to tell the cats we're leaving.

Unagi started sleeping under the Christmas tree shortly after its arrival. It took you a couple days to find her, but now you love pointing out the kitty cat under the tree. Sorry Unagi, obviously you can run but you can't hide from a motivated toddler.

The Christmas tree...in a stroke of complete luck, Daddy brought home a bunch of unbreakable ornaments this year. The tree wasn't decorated enough with my stash of ornaments once all of the breakable ones hung well above your reach, and he happened upon a package that turned out to be unbreakable.

This is fortunate for us because of you and the cats. You love to take the ornaments off the tree and put them into a box we left out for that purpose. We're not dummies, we know what your plans are when you see bright shiny objects at your height.

We also know the cats, who are likely teenagers in cat years but still entertained (like a certain toddler we know) by the sight of those same bright shiny balls dangling in front of them.

What we didn't predict, however, is that you would take one of those bright shiny balls and hold it out for Unagi to hit like a punching bag.

I didn't witness this, Daddy did, and although is imagination is fertile I doubt he made it up.

I want to tell you about the toddler holiday party we attended tonight, about how you played well with all of the toys, surprisingly didn't play with the shiny glass balls on their tree, ate well, and somehow didn't cry at all until we were on the way home and your foot got caught in the handle on a paper bag.

As for the party, if I held up the romper room magic mirror I would have said...
"I see Katie and Ellie, Amy and Jack, Katie and Luke, Victoria and Ian, and Sadia and Zoya..." not to mention all the babies to come that are currently hanging out in their Mommy's tummy!

Having six toddlers in one place guarantees chaos but the party was indelibly fun and the food was sumptuous. Thank you all for being our friends!

As for you, Miss Ava, you fell asleep in the car while I was singing Christmas carols so you wouldn't cry. You barely woke when I changed you into pajamas at home and put you into bed.

Sleep well, my love, and night night kitty cat.

Twenty months old

Hi my sweet girl,

This morning we went for the same walk we took every day when you were brand new. We would start at our house and go up, up, up to McLaren park, swoop down over the foot bridge, back up by the sandbox with cement turtles, past the old and wise eucalyptus trees and back down home.

We haven't done this walk in a long time, and I've missed it.

You're getting bigger by the day. Sure, you're small, in the fifth percentile small, but with such giants for parents I don't expect a WNBA player out of you. You eat well and you've got baby fat in all the right places and your new doctor insisted you looked just right.

Thank heaven I came to my senses and dumped your old doctor who always made me feel lower than pond scum.

But this is about you, walking head on into your twentieth month tomorrow. You say new words every day - this morning we were practicing our animal words: dog, cat, mouse, cow, pig, zebra, giraffe, bear, sheep and elephant. Okay, you can't say elephant yet, but you can say the rest of them!

What amazes me completely is that you know the difference between all these animals. How is it you can differentiate between a cat and a dog? They both have four legs and furry bodies, there are small dogs that are about the size of a cat, yet you know which is which. How?

Speaking of cats, Unagi has started sleeping with you at night. I don't know if you're keeping her warm or vice versa, but it's wonderful to see Unagi curled up at your feet. This morning you woke up happy and when Daddy went in your room, he said you were playing with the cat.

You play "tag" with the cats on a regular basis - lumbering towards them and then running away with shreaks of laughter when they come back at you.

The other day you amazed my waxing lady by signing please when you wanted me to read your book again. "She knows sign language?!" Sofia marveled.

"Ava knows a few signs, just enough to fill in the blanks for words." For once, little one, I felt like I could be a candidate for Mom of the Year.

The other day I brought your Daddy a plate of cookies I just baked. You stole his last cookie and ate it when he wasn't looking.

He asked you, "Ava, where are the cookies?"

You looked at the plate and signed "all done!" I can see your sense of humor is developing at a good rate.

You're starting to figure out how to jump. You bend your knees and bounce a bit, but you haven't worked out the gravity restrictions. You like to bounce on the trampoline at My Gym and you watch the other toddlers jump, you just haven't figured it out for yourself yet.

The Christmas tree has been a big attraction for you. Daddy and I put it up while you were hanging out with your Nana. The first day or two you were afraid to go near it, likely wondering how a full grown tree sprouted in our living room.

Now, of course, ornaments routinely walk off of the tree and mysteriously appear in your bedroom. Of particular attraction are the teddy bear ornaments that your Auntie Brie and I bought at Harrods in England three years ago.

Someday I will take you to England and show you the miles of shopping in Harrods. Maybe we'll buy something there, maybe we won't. We'll take the London underground from place to place, delighting in the foreign accent and new sights.

Someday yes, I will introduce you to my passion for travel. Maybe you will love it as I do, maybe you won't.

I often wonder what you'll like as you grow bigger. Right now you love everything we're doing and I'm even looking for a Ava-sized broom so you can sweep when Mommy does.

For now, you have swept us up with your charm and infectious laugh.

I never knew love could be so big.

Chit chat

Hi sweet girl,

You have become quite the chatter box. Most of the time you chatter in a language that we don't understand, but you do have an arsenal of new words at your disposal.

Take "eat" for example. You say eat sometimes, but most of the time you say "bite," as in, "Ava, do you want a bite?"

So you've replaced eat with bite in your vocabulary.

After watching Baby Einstein videos, your knowledge of animals has grown tremendously. These are your latest words:

cow (bow)
mouse (mow, like cow)
butterfly (buh bye)
kitty cat (giggy ga)
doggie (dah-GEE)

There are many more, and I will add them as I remember.

Speaking with your hands

Hi sweet girl,

At long last after my months and months of signing "more" and "eat" and "elephant," you are signing back to me.

You are doing lots of other things like sliding the mirrored closet doors back and forth; feeding me with your fork when you have any food except bananas; you point at my mobile phone and say "bay-bee" because you know there is a picture of you in my phone.

You have also, to my complete amusement, started picking up two paper bags and putting the handles in the inner crook of your elbow and then grab your plastic keys and walk to the front door saying "bye bye." I respond with "Bye bye, I'll miss you, come back soon."

There aren't words to tell you how funny this is.

But I was talking about how you use sign language to talk to me, and went off on a tangent as usual. "Off on a tangent" was a phrase that was invented for your Mommy, you'll find out soon enough.

You sign all kinds of things these days. You often confuse "more" for "eat" and when I ask if you want to eat, you sign more. You do, however, sign more when you want me to read your book again, and again, and again.

The big accomplishment, as I see it, is that I've taught you to sign "help." It took me no less than thirty-three years to ask anyone for help, much less know how to say it in sign language. Asking for help, baby, it's what makes the world go round. Now when you start to get frustrated because you can't do something, I ask you, "Ava, do you want help?" as I sign help. You pause, look up, and pat your chest or tummy with both hands (which is your approximation of the sign I'm using for help).

This is utterly and completely fabulous.

To top that off, last night I taught you to sign "please" when you were getting frustrated and wanted me to read your book again. "Can you say 'please'?" I asked you, while moving my hand in a circle on my breastbone. You looked straight at me and signed "please" right back. Then I had to read your book to you at least five times because you kept signing "please." That's okay, I'm willing to read it a dozen times if you ask nicely, even if you are doing it because I'm reading my own book.

Sign language, this is some miraculous stuff!

I love you sweet girl,
Mommy

Mommy time

Hi my little love,

The one thing it is so easy to forget as a Mommy is to take care of myself. I remember to feed you, change you, entertain you, but forget all about me in the process. I know without a doubt that I can only take care of others well if I take care of myself first, so I have been trying for a little bit each day to take time for me.

I've started writing again, nothing fabulous or meaningful but just my average three pages a day. I started meditating again, just a little bit. Fifteen minutes yesterday; ten minutes today. These are precious little slices of time I am giving to myself. Yesterday morning when I got up, I finished my writing and went downstairs to meditate on the red chair. Your Daddy came down to see what I was doing, you wanted to come down to see what I was doing, when really I was doing nothing. I heard the door shut upstairs and found out later that you and Daddy went for a ride to the store to get breakfast. Daddy figured if he stuck around the house that he'd just want to bug me.

As I said, precious moments of time. I didn't want to drive my behind to yoga, I just wanted a break, in my own home, in my pajamas, to breathe. I've figured out in the last few years that if I want something it usually shows up, just not on my schedule. If I want a break I don't usually get the break right at that moment, I usually get it in the next day or so. I figure this is someone teaching me how to be patient.

Anyway, my hope is that by seeing me take care of myself, you will learn to do the same. Helping others is good, but not if it costs you too much of yourself.

love always,
Mommy

As you wish

Hi little one,

Tonight was one of those nights. One of those rainy, thunder, lightening, dark kinds of nights that I was exhausted by the time I got home. I was driving Maz, your daddy's red truck in heavy traffic across the bay bridge, and after resting half an hour realized I wanted pajamas instead of going out to a movie with my friends.

Your Daddy headed out to meet friends, and I told your Nana that she could go home. Nana was nervous and restless from the lightening and you were full of chaotic nervous energy. After she left we split a grilled cheese sandwich and a yummy pear, I tidied up a bit, put you in pj's and we headed downstairs.

"We need a movie..." I said to you. But what kind of movie do we need? I dismissed the Disney animated movies, dismissed my typical girl choices like "When Harry Met Sally" or "How to Make An American Quilt" and saw it. The right choice:

"The Princess Bride"

See, I adore this movie. I love the danger, the irony, and the fabulous word tango.

"Stop rhyming, I mean it." "Anyone want a peanut?"
"My way is not very sportsman like."
"Death can't stop true love, the most it can do is delay it for a while."
"Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die."
"You were mostly dead all day."
"To the death!" "No, to the pain!"

Of course the part I don't like is that Buttercup is so helpless, that she can't even beat off the ROUS'es in the fire swamp when she's holding a big stick, but I can forgive that part. If I wrote the movie, she'd kick ass too.

The book is even better than the movie, and when your book attention span lasts more than five minutes, I promise I'll read it to you.

My movie had the right affect, it calmed me down, calmed you down, and now you are fast asleep on the floor.

All my love,
Mommy

Nineteen months

Hi sweet girl,

You will be nineteen months tomorrow and I am celebrating by taking off for the weekend with my friend Tracey and leaving you at home with Dah-DEE. This is the best present I could give you, even better than 500 cookies piled on top of 1000 tortillas, because on Sunday when I come home I will be a happy, grateful, new improved Mah-MEE who has missed you and talked about you all weekend.

I wish I could think of all the new things you're doing lately. You have now figured out how to get out of your big girl bed in the morning and then make noise with all the toys on your bedroom floor. You also now get really upset when I take something away, even when that something is a pair of scissors that I left too close to the edge of the table. No matter, I have a secret weapon: distraction. Whenever that bottom lip puckers out and quivers and the wailing begins, I start to play with something, anything, and you look up, wander over, and come play with me. Distraction, it's a powerful tool for my Mom-belt.

Words...you're saying some new words but I don't remember what. You say 'bite" with alarming regularity when I ask you if you want a bite of whatever I'm eating. "Bite!" you respond, although you omit the "b".

You like to (try to) put your own shoes and socks on, and you love untying anyone's shoes that are in close range. You then try to retie them, with no luck. I admire the effort though.

You have become enamored with all the electronic noise making toys that you previously ignored. You love your Baby Tad that plays different songs when you press buttons, but mostly you've discovered that one hand plays a song with words and the other hand plays night-night music. Those tunes have you rocking out hard to "twinkle, twinkle little star" and "oh where, oh where has my little dog gone" and all I can do is sit back and laugh.

Speaking of laughing, the other toy you adore these days is a mini baby tad who sings the ABC song. You like to take mini tad's hands in yours and swing him back and forth. Over and over you press his tummy to play the ABC song while Dah-DEE and I roll our eyes and think, "oh no, not again."

"Oh-no" is one of your new sounds, along with "uh-oh" that you say appropriately when you fall down or something falls from you.

But it's time for me to escape for the weekend. I love you, little one, thank you for nineteen wonderful months.

All my love,
Mah-MEE

Ava's Second Halloween

Last year I didn't dress Ava up in a costume. This year, I was urged (as in Becky saying "you HAVE to!) to dress her up, and so, I chose this...

Happy Halloween, my sweet mermaid!

Under my skin

Dear Ava,

This is what Mommy looked like in the final days when you were camping out in my tummy. I was big and round and gained sixty pounds even though you were only six and a half pounds when you were born.

That's no matter though, because we went to Mom & Baby Yoga and went on lots of walks, and I kept telling myself that it took nine months to get this size and it would likely take nine months for the weight to go away. Now, nearly nineteen months after your birth, all but eight pounds are gone. They're a stubborn eight pounds, settled on my abdomen, where weight has never settled before. Oh well, if eight pounds is what I have, eight pounds it is until I do something about it.

When you were growing inside me I used to sing to you. I sang you lots of songs, but the song I sang nearly every day was Frank Sinatra's "Under My Skin." I couldn't find anything more appropriate to sing you than "I've got you, under my skin; I've got you, deep in the heart of me." Although I didn't know for sure you were a girl, I'd still sing the line "Oh little girl, you never can win, because I've got you, under my skin."

Now I sing you this song when I want you to settle down and rest. Sometimes I sing the song just because it's in my head. When you're older and aren't as easily entertained by lights in the ceiling or unopened tea bags, I'll tell you this story, and wonder if everytime you hear that song when you're out and about in the world, you'll think of me.

Big girl bed

Hi big girl,

There are a few changes happening in our world...perhaps the most interesting to you is we replaced your crib with a big-girl toddler bed!

We also replaced most of your furniture with a bedroom set from Ikea. Your room looks now like a little girl sleeps and plays there, not a baby. You actually slept on your new bed all night last night. I started off laying down beside you, because fortunately Mah-MEE is short and fits on the bed, and your eyes plummeted, opened, plummeted, opened, and ker-plunk. You were out. I wandered back to my own big-girl bed and we all slept peacefully.

This morning I heard you cry on waking around 7, I peeked my head in and said "Good morning! Come out here when you're ready!" You were curious, there were no bars on your bed restraining you, and about five minutes later you toddled on out into the kitchen.

Your Dah-DEE and I are both wondering how the new bed will go. We both sense you're ready for a trifle more freedom and think this bed is a step in the right direction.

For now, you're in your bed fast asleep, but you were delivered that way from your Nana in your carseat an hour ago. We'll see how tonight goes, because me of all people know that I can't predict tonight based on last night when I'm living with a toddler.

I love you, my big girl.
Mah-MEE

Five days with Grandma Bear

Dear little one who is getting bigger by the second,

We just got home on Tuesday after five days with Grandma Bear. You still don't say Grandma Bear, although I would swear in court on a Bible that you've said bear before, you just don't say it anymore. You do, however, point in the right direction when I ask, "Where is Grandma Bear?"


This, of course, delights Grandma Bear totally and completely, even better than if she won the Colorado Lottery. Maybe.
We had a great time. You spent hours climbing up and down the stairs. You would sneak over to the stairs, thinking we weren't watching you, but come on, with not just one trained mom, but two the odds of you doing anything we didn't know about were near impossible. When you got to about the fourth step, you would sit down and pause, while either Grandma Bear or I would go over to you (depending on whose turn it was) and you would giggle like something hilarious just happened.

Climbing up you do the normal baby way, like a crawl, but up stairs. Your climbing down procedure varied between coming down one step at a time on your bottom, or sliding down on your tummy. Both are equally amusing.

You liked Grandma Bear's cat, Kiwi (who I have nicknamed Feisty Kitty), but Kiwi wanted nothing to do with you. We were grateful for that, because I don't call that petite calico Feisty Kitty for no reason.

October 2004, Ava at 6 months

You got to see people out there who remembered you from our last visit a year ago, who marveled at the walking baby that had replaced the one who I previously carried about in the infant carrier. A couple were salivating over you, not because they wanted a baby, but because they wanted a grandbaby.

You also loved the digital camera, and wanted to see the "baby" every time someone, anyone took a picture of you.

You also had a great time "driving" the boat as we took pictures to send to Dah-DEE. Obviously in this shot you are looking to make sure there are no other boats in the way before you merge left.

Grandma Bear took good care of us. Going to visit her is like a vacation from a vacation. Mah-MEE's mobile phone with mobile email doesn't work high up in the mountains of Colorado (probably one of the last places on earth it doesn't) so Mah-MEE really gets to relax. Every morning Grandma Bear asks "what should we have for dinner?" and lists all of the meat in her well stocked freezer. I missed her for that when I got home and had to ask myself that question. I missed her for a lot more than that also.

Your Grandma Bear, she's great. Her heart is big and full of love for us. Someday I'll tell you the story of how I named her Grandma Bear, but not today.

I love you Ava,
And we all love you, Grandma Bear.

At the airport

We are waiting for our flight and I have just taught Ava what an airplane is.

Every 5 min I ask her, Ava where is the airplane?

It's my inside joke, like when we went to see March of the Penguins and I asked her "where is the penguin?"

The perfect response

Hi honey,

If there is one question I could teach you as the catch-all phrase when someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, it would be...

Why do you want to know?

I learned this response late in life. I wish I'd known it early on, because people are always asking for all kinds of information and often I answer, only wish I had the forethought to respond with ... Why do you want to know?

This question stops most people dead in their tracks because they don't have a good reason for wanting to know, sure, they may be curious, but really it's none of their business.

I've never been one for a snappy, mildly sarcastic response to a situation. Like Meg Ryan's character in "You've Got Mail," I tend to wish I had a snappy response, but never do, and fret about it for days after the event.

I wish I carried "Why do you want to know?" around in my back pocket, like a wooden stake against verbal vampires, but I don't.

Maybe though, in teaching you to ask that question, I can learn to say it more often too.

love,
Mom

Fledgling artiste

The World of Crayola

Today, my love, I introduced you to my giant box of Crayola Crayons with the sharpener built into the back.

You are reaching the point where you would rather make your mark than eat the wax, so I knew it was time.

At first, I only handed you a couple crayons, but you pointed at the yellow box on the table with a force that proved only that you are not telekinetic. Too bad, that could come in handy. Anyway, I put the whole box on the floor, and the first thing you did was to push the crayons in your hand back into the box. Not in the right spots, of course, meaning an open spot, because the colors are not in any sort of order. I believe I once even dumped out the whole box in front of your cousin Destiny to her utter amazement. So by "right" spot, I only mean one that was capable of readily accepting a crayon. That didn't matter, of course, and you shut the lid anyway.

Now, I have put the crayons away and the Powerpuff Girls coloring book, which I have no intention of explaining why I own, and you are peacefully napping. We all had a rough night last night, with your first case of the stomach flu and how your Dah-DEE and I got to see the food we put in you for dinner (banana and blueberries, because you were sick) once again, all over the couch.

But I digress.

I was pondering the crayons as I lay on the bed resting with you to my left, unagi curled into the crook behind my knees. Once upon a time Crayola used to have a color called "flesh" which they have renamed to "peach" under the guise of political correctness. I took out "peach" just a minute ago, made a mark on white paper, and compared it to my own skin. Not a match.

I then took out a color called "tan" and one called "tumbleweed" and my favorite name, "burnt sienna." I don't know what a sienna is nor how you burn one, but I remember this name from my childhood. I made marks with these on the white paper and observed how I don't really look like any of them.

I'm a bit less pink than peach, and not as orange as tan. Tumbleweed is a bit too errant, although I do like traveling.

If I held these same colors up to you, I wonder where you would fit?

See, the thing is, that you and I, as you'll figure out at some point probably in elementary school, are not the same color. People who don't look too closely think you're the same color as your Dah-DEE, but as your Uncle Anthony said, she's not as dark as his brother (Dah-DEE). And not as light as me, I added.

You are somewhere in between his tan to burnt sienna and my peach to cafe au lait. Speaking of cafe au lait, that would make a darn good Crayola color.

This used to bug me, that we weren't the same color. I kept searching for some bit of you that looked like me, something beyond the obvious because the obvious is skin color. I had to give that up, over and over. Even when I was in Mexico for a week, getting tan, I came home and you had been out in the central California sun, getting more tan. You will always beat me at tanning contests, you turn a rich burnt sienna even with SPF 45 in about ten minutes of sun exposure.

As you grow older though, the resemblance peeks through. In the bridge of your nose and around your eyes, I can see me. Your girl parts, you definitely got those from me. You wrinkle the bridge of your nose when you laugh, like me.

I wonder what check box to mark when I have to specify what nationality you are. Your heritage is a cornucopia of European from me - Irish, Swedish, French Basque, Norwegian; but also German, American Indian, and Mexican from your Dah-DEE.

You are a mix, a blend, a harmony of nationalities mixed to remarkable perfection. You aren't a check box on a form, but then, who is?

The truth is, in a black and white photo, we are all shades of gray, and even to Crayola, gray is still gray.

Eighteen months and going strong

Hi Sweet Girl,

You are officially eighteen months or one year and a half old. As always, I have a hard time you've been hanging out with me for that long.

When I want to know if you're hungry, I say "Ava eat?" and you say "Eeet!"

You get mad a little easier than you used to, especially if I take something from you, like your toothbrush, even if you are all done brushing your teeth. You aren't so bad at brushing them, I must say, which is quite impressive at 18 months. You really hate it when I brush them, so we gave up and handed you the brush. The first few days you chewed more than brushed, but after watching us brush every day, twice a day, you're figuring it out.

You win my heart over every time you hand me a book, then turn around and sit in the middle of my crossed legs.

You pick up a new word each day, sometimes a couple a day. The new word du jour was blueberry, which sounded like boo-bear. The other words we've noticed are:
You are speaking new words like crazy. Every moment you pick up something new that we say. Here are the words we've noticed so far:
tortilla (tohr-TEEEEE-yah)
unagi (oooo-nah-gee)
hola (oh-la)
mommy (mah-MEE)
daddy (dah-DEE)
nana (nah-nah)
papa (papa, but in a whisper)
bear (bay-er)
dog (dah)
duck (duh)
eat (eeeet)

Despite all of my efforts to teach you sign language, the only sign I notice is "all done" which is an action made with both hands like twisting open a door knob. When I say "more" and make the sign, you pick up your dish and wave it at me, or point. I get it, more.

You can identify your nose, my nose, your head, cheek, feet, and tummy. Someday when I ask "where's Ava's chicken?" you'll giggle and point at your ribs because you know that's where you're going to be tickled.

Tonight you're not feeling so well. You've got a fever and even threw up for the first time in forever. As I say when we're sick, you get to eat what you want, and what you wanted was a banana. And then boo-bears.

You are becoming a bit less mommy dependent, especially at My Gym. This week when you saw where we were, you ran off, leaving me to eat your smoke. Okay, maybe you didn't run, but you sure didn't spend much time looking for me. You did spend time watching Jack swing on the uneven bars and put your hands up on the bar to try his amazing stunt. You didn't quite get that he was hanging by his hands and that allowed him to take his feet off the ground, but you gave it your best shot by standing on your toes.

I'm a Mom. I don't have a plaque or a sign that says so, but with as much as I talk about you, I don't need one; everyone already knows.

What else does everyone know? That you are a beautiful, easy, wonderful little girl, and everyone loves you.

Especially me.

Dancing With Fear

Hi my little love,

After a few days of being mostly in the present moment, I got attacked by the past and the future, all at once. I don't mean literally, although I did throw water at someone in a burst of anger and tell them in a very loud voice to get the heck out of my house. No, I was attacked by the voices in my head, and subesequently attacked others around me directly, but mostly passive-aggressively.

That's what happens, when you get older, and fear gets in the way. That's what happens to me.

People handle fear differently. Some people let it immoblize them; some people take it out in anger; others take it out in sadness. Some eat to hide fear; some drink or take drugs. People do all kinds of crazy things to avoid fear.

But me, I do a few things to avoid fear. Lately, as you know, I've cleaned out all the clutter from the major storage spaces inside the house (except the garage). Then I waited impatiently for the miracle to arrive after all this clearing.

The miracle did not come as expected - the brand new space I opened up also opened up Pandora's box of fear because too much was possible!

I've been a disaster to live with the last couple days, but your Dah-DEE in his infinite love and wisdom, figured out that I need something else - something is missing in my life. He's right - I'm missing something for me. I'm missing something that makes me want to jump out of bed in the morning and run into the day.

What was holding me back? Fear.

What am I afraid of? That is the million dollar question ending in a preposition. I am afraid that I'll fail, sure, I'm also afraid I'll succeed. What IF I start a new company and it costs me all of my savings. What IF I fail miserably. What IF I am so successful that I no longer have time for you because I'm so busy with work? What IF in building this, I lose you or Dah-DEE?

Those What If's, they trap me in a box every time.

Your Dah-DEE, of course, would prefer I jump and see if I can fly. Heck, if I can't fly, he'll put a trampoline under me at the bottom of the cliff so I can bounce back up. No, he IS the trampoline.

All your Dah-DEE asks is to be his partner and to come home and not be a righteous B all the time.

Get rid of your safety net, he told me in different words. Quit your job that has become your direct deposit safety net. I will be your safety net.

There is no question why I love him; why he is the perfect partner for me.

But back to fear. I am reading a book on starting a small business so I can partner with my friend (TBN, since this is the all knowing, all searchable Internet) to create something wildly successful. Maybe I need to define what successful is to me so I know it when it knocks on my door in a fairy costume.

Successful is...
> Having time to read you books as you sit in my lap.
> Receiving your love, in spontaneous hugs and open mouth kisses (later they can be closed mouth kisses too)
> Taking vacations to new to me places
> Working in a way that gives me more energy
> Having time for myself, for Dah-DEE, for you and for work
> Making money without directly working; having money coming in whether I physically do work or not

And better, more wonderful things that aren't in the above list.

It's a dance, you see, with fear. It's hard to dance and be afraid at the same time; sooner or later the brain has to disengage to dance well. The brain has no place in dancing.

Fear can be a wonderful motivator, if it doesn't put me in a box and sit on the lid so I can't escape.

But now, in writing to you, I am getting out of that box and I'm going to keep reading the Small Business startup book and take the next step.

I love you, little one, may you learn how to dance with fear before age 36.
Mah-MEE

Blueberry Happy Jacks

Welcome Home, Stinky Dink!

This morning Mamama invented yet another new recipe...this one a mod on the traditional pancake that we're calling Blueberry Happy Jacks

Blueberry Happy Jacks
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp ground flax seed
1 beaten egg
1 Tbsp molasses
1 cup milk
2 Tbsp cooking oil
remaining frozen blueberries (1/2 cup would be good)

In whatever container you usually use for mixing pancakes, mix all the dry stuff together (including ground flax seed). In a separate container, beat the egg, then add the molasses, milk, and oil; mix these well. Then put the wet stuff into the dry stuff and stir until mixed but a bit lumpy.

Take frozen blueberries and rinse until they are mostly thawed, or thawed enough. Put these in the batter, stir once, but if you stir more than once, you'll have blue blueberry happy jacks which are fine, but not everyone likes their food blue.

I made silver dollar sized Happy Jacks by using a Tablespoon to scoop batter onto the hot frying pan. Size as you prefer.

Feed small child as you go, because otherwise you'll end up with grumpy small child who smells food but wonders why she can't have any. I spooned Yo Baby blueberry yogurt on top of hers, and then mine, because the combo was quite tasty. Eat with fork, or hands, as you prefer.

Ava, you out ate Mamama when it came to Happy Jacks. You ate seven to my five!

It's good to have you home, even if the house is completely impossible to keep clean for more than five minutes.

I love you,
Mamama

Making room for change

Dear Stinky Dink,

Yesterday you left at 5:30AM with your Daddy to Tennessee for a few days. I spent the whole day organizing and de-cluttering, specifically your bedroom. I finally got around to removing all of my things from your bedroom, including what amounted to six boxes of books and random things that were hiding in a storage cabinet. I labeled paper bags with "throw away," "give away," "recycle," and "belongs somewhere else" and filled them to the brim. There are many other parts of the house to work on, but your room feels good. Clean. Organized.

I get this way periodically. “This way” is that I want to rummage through closets, cupboards, cluttered spaces and let go of all the things I once needed or thought I should keep because someone gave them to me. Sometimes I feel guilty letting things go that others gave me, even if they don't feel right anymore, or maybe never did.

In Feng Shui, we're encouraged to let go of anything that doesn't bring us up, or make us feel good by looking at it. There are Feng Shui cures we can do to improve less than optimal spaces or locations of rooms (such as my last flat which had a toilet in the money corner and I literally flushed money away while I lived there!), but what comes first always is letting go of clutter.

Your Daddy and I tackle the garage periodically, rearranging and removing, and then it gets filled back up again with things he finds in houses he sells and things we no longer want in the living spaces of the house. Then we clean it out, then we fill it back up. I must say though, that things are never static in this house. Change lives here.

I like change though. Change is the nature of the universe. The turkey vulture that flies overhead represents change. Often they represent the death of an animal they can call lunch, but death is change as well. Change is the death of something, death of an old way of doing things for a new way.

For a while now I've been living in a place of fear, feeling trapped by circumstances and situations. This has begun to shift, I can feel the lightness, the hope, the transition from fear to trust. I have been working in a place that doesn't really suit me, but I have been afraid to make a change, afraid to take a leap without a place to land.

I also started reading a new book, recommended by a friend, called The Power of Now. What the author says isn't brand new, but he writes in a way that appeals to me now. He writes about how the mind is constant chatter, mostly living in the past or projecting scenes onto the future. Neither are me, my true self, he writes. One suggestion he makes is to observe the one in my head doing all the thinking but not think about the thinking. Just observe the words as they pass on through.

I've done this in meditation and in yoga, but it's funny, I've never tried to watch the thinking, I've only tried to stop the thinking. He is reminding me that I am not these thoughts. I am infinite, beyond the judgments and fears in my head.

Reading this, I've felt more peaceful in the last few days. Problems that could have been huge turned out to be small, easily resolved. When my mind gets anxious, noisy, and afraid, I smile, tell it to relax, or even just a humorous library Shush! works well.

Then, of course, but not of course, because I'm not in that place of fear, a friend called me out of the blue and has a possible new job for me. This job feels like what's next - the what's next I've been wondering about for a while. My friends would say things like this always happen to me, and I would say that they do, as long as I'm not paying too much attention.

If I could teach you anything, little one, I would teach you how to quiet the chatter in your head. I would teach you about that calm place that lives inside you, a place of total love and total trust. But right now, you're seventeen months old, and you pretty much live in that place already.

Hopefully by the time the chatter finds you, you will have the tools to tell it to Shush! as you have more important things to do than listen.

I love you, Ava Jasmine. Come home soon.
Mamama

Tales of peace, books, dancing, and artichokes

Dear Ava,

Five minutes ago I got up from the couch and put you to bed. I took a while to get up because I was quite comfortably sandwiched between you on my right and Dadada on my left. He was beginning to snore on one side and you on the other. I looked from one peaceful sleeping face to the other, and I didn't just feel what peace looked like, I saw, I knew, intimately, what peace is.

You are such a joy to come home to after working all day. As soon as you hear my voice you start to make noise. You know it's me. When you first see me walk into the room you get a big many-toothed grin across your face and literally jump from the arms that were holding you into mine.

It's a privilege, to be loved so much by you, and to know that I am, right at this moment, your number one.

Aside from that, a couple things you do lately amuse me to no end. I gave you a small purple beaded purse and you've started carrying it around. At first just in your hand, but after a day you started putting it over your shoulder and walking around with it. Your Dadada wanted to put a dollar in your purse but I asked him not to, I didn't want you eating it.

You have also become a bibliophile in the last week. Anytime you are near a book, especially one of yours, you pick it up and hand it to the nearest person to read it to you. Yesterday you handed me "Blue Hat, Green Hat" as I was sitting cross-legged on the floor. I asked you if you were going to sit with me. You turned around and sat in my lap!

Since I've been home, we've read that book again, plus "Goodnight Gorilla," "Goodnight Moon," and "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See." I heard you made your Nana read you "Rainbow Fish" at least four times today.

You are still dancing to every bit of music that plays, whether the tune is a commercial, a CD, or part of a movie. You'll find any excuse to shake that bootie. Today I taught you a new dancing trick, to wave your hands in the air as you swing those hips of yours.

I have also taught you to love artichokes, and the proper method of eating artichoke leaves. You scrape off the edge with your teeth and then sometimes hand it back to me and other times put the whole thing in your mouth. In time, I expect you'll figure out the heart is the best part and I only give you part of it.

Now it's time for Mamama to go to bed. Sweet dreams, my little love.

Bilingual at 17 months

This morning as I was changing your diaper, you distinctly said o-lah! Hola? I questioned. OLAH!!! You replied. Hola! I said. Olah! you replied.

Then to mix things up a bit, I said Hi!
Hi! you replied, omitting the h, so it sounded more like "eye!"

Now though, you are wandering around the living room saying OLAH!

Then to top it off, you walked up, handed me two plastic baby hangers as if i was going to do something wonderful with them. I banged them together rapidly with a big grin on my face and handed them back to you. You nodded, very good Mom, and walked away, banging the hangers together.

Seventeen months

Hi sweet girl,

Last weekend you went on your first ever camping trip up to Silver Lake. You ingested so much dirt that I believe any mineral deficit you may have had has completely disappeared.

You loved the dirt. You scooped up shovels full and dumped it into a bucket. You picked up handfuls and then emptied the dirt into my hand, as if to say, this is great stuff, Mom, you need some too.

I just laughed and said, "Dirt, Ava just handed me dirt."

I kept you in the same overalls all weekend, exchanging them only for pajamas at bedtime. We took Broham, our faithful 19-foot 1978 Dodge RV and shared a campsite with my brother and his family.

On Sunday a tribe of us went for a hike along beautiful water-worn granite with running water passing through. You were elated bouncing along in the backpack on Dadada's back until we got to a good stopping point and he put your feet in the water. You weren't sure about that cold water at first, but then later you strained against my arms to get more of it.

You got to see your Grandma Bear, your Great Grandpa Jerry, and a selection of other family members who all decided you were adorable. Such a great baby! So mellow! And you are, as good as they come for a 17 month old little girl.

Speaking of 17 months, you just had your 17 month birthday on Monday. Seventeen months already and you're doing all kinds of things these days.

Yesterday, you started saying Mommy. I wasn't really sure I was the Mommy type, but the decision is in your hands, so Mommy it is. You say all kinds of things, although you don't call the cats "kitty" you do seem to call Unagi somthing that sounds like "aaahhhgeeee" which is close enough for horseshoes.

You walk all over the place now, and even walk away from me in public places. You're pretty good at minding me though, when I ask you to stay inside or stay close. I appreciate this, believe me!

You can find your head and your nose, reliably, although my best efforts have not helped you find your ears or tummy. You are fascinated with your belly button, and the other morning I told you as you were poking your finger in it that in that exact spot you were connected to me. Your Dadada interjected by saying "And I cut you loose!"

Speaking of Dadada, the game he has taught you lately is that he'll honk when you squeeze his nose and beep when you squeeze your own. I didn't know about this game and wondered why you were giving me such a curious look when you squeezed my nose, nor why you were squeezing it in the first place.

Yesterday in the car, we had a whole conversation of whispered da's. I was on the phone, waiting for someone, and you said dadada in a whisper. I responded with a whispered da-da. We continued the da rally for about two minutes, lobbing and volleying one, two, or three da's back and forth.

All things considered, my little love, I wouldn't trade you for anything.

I love you,
Mamama
aka Mommy

Walking away

Solitary Vice

Hi stinky-dink,

Today at play group, we were discussing the relative vices of you, our tribe of toddlers.

It would seem that most, if not all of you have reached 16 or 18 months with potentially one vice to your name. Yours, of course, would be the pacifier.

Others had other vices, I think you're the only pacifier dependent one, but it's not my call to name vices of others so I'll just say that they existed, and they weren't particularly better or worse than the pacifier.

I don't know why I struggle so with your craving for it. You can't pass one by on the floor or table without plugging your mouth immediately. Earlier today I saw you walking around with one in your mouth, another in your hand, for emergency pacifier failure? I couldn't be sure.

After talking to my fabulous group of Mom-friends though I did see one thing in a new way. You have pretty much one vice. One. You may also have a couple bad sleeping habits and a Mom who has been called the "Food Nazi" by more than one homo sapien, but pretty much it comes down to the pacifier and I would bet my next paycheck that peer pressure will keep you from using it in high school.

I'm going to do my best to relax about the whole pacifier thing. I do panic a bit about the orthodontics bill that will be slapped down after years of pacifier gluttony, but this may be unnecessary. Maybe your teeth will straighten themselves out. Maybe the eleven months of nursing cancel out the pacifier? Who knows.

Maybe, my little pumpkin, you have to have one vice or you'd be too good. Maybe if Mamama stopped staring at the one blemish on an otherwise perfect complexion, Mamama would feel a whole lot better about the whole thing and you would just spontaneously forget you ever liked it in the first place.

Now though, you're asleep, and Harry Potter year 6 awaits.

I love you,
Mamama

Toddling

Hi Ava,

During our week vacation apart, you transformed from an almost toddler to a full fledged walking toddler. After eight days of chasing after your two slightly older cousins you walk with wild abandon. Today you even squiggled out of my arms in your haste to get to the ground.

Your Aunt Susi and Uncle John, not to mention cousins Karilyn and Annie taught you a few new tricks which I am finding really useful. You now are capable of saying "eat" (or a close facsimile) when you are hungry. You are also a much better dancer now, and if Fred were still in his dancing shoes, you'd be bumping Ginger right out of the way.

Your Aunt Susi claims you were an absolute angel during your visit and that you knew that you were just visiting while I was off somewhere else. You took a regular nap at 11AM and went to bed every night at 7:30PM. It is really, really nice to know this can happen! Of course, you've fought both the nap and the bedtime since you've arrived at home, and even brought us a surprise gift of pre-two tantrums. You haven't flailed on the ground, but you've done your share of screaming today.

Can I blame the two top incisors that are breaking through? Is that blaming too much on the teething? Or can I just blame it on separation anxiety as we were apart for longer than ever before and perhaps you're just worried that Mamama is going away again.

We went to Holly Park today, you and I, and for the first time you walked rapidly all over the place. I felt so strange and proud at the same time. We've been to Holly Park with our friends and I've watched all of their kids run around, now it's your turn. The monkey scoot has disappeared along with the soft leather shoes. You did get another compliment on your fabulous purple shoes though, from a Mom with a 12 month old girl at the park.

Now, it's 9:23. It only took an hour to get you to sleep, and I say "only" in the most sarcastic of senses after multiple instances of putting you down, letting you scream, picking you up, down, scream, up, down, scream, and finally sleep. I love the idea of a 7:30 bedtime, the execution leaves something to be desired.

Now, it's time for Mamama to go to sleep. If I scream will you come pick me up?

I did miss you, little one, and it's good to be home.

love,
Mamama

Already missing you

Hi sweet girl,

I was sad today I watched your Dadada leave to deliver you to your Uncle John's and Aunt Susi's. I came back into the house and fumbled around a bit unsure of what to do with myself. Sure, I had a list of errands to run and more to add to the list, but I felt a bit lost without you to wrap my Tuesday around.

Your Dadada called me after he dropped you off and said that was he hardest thing he's had to do in a while. As he was leaving you, he told you it was time for him to go and to give Daddy a kissy. You puckered up your lips and leaned over and kissed him. That's the first time I've heard of you doing that!

Around 7:30 as I was settling in to eat dinner, I thought of you. I closed my eyes, slowed down my breath until my heart felt warm, and I pictured myself wrapping my arms around you. I called your Aunt & Uncle's house a half hour later, and it turned out that's when you went to sleep.

Your Aunt Susi is a mom after my own heart, she told me what you ate for dinner (carrots and broccoli and TWO cups of milk!) and when you fell asleep. She said you were such a good baby and hardly cried today.

Maybe I'm doing my job okay afterall.

I love you stinky-dink.
Mamama

Protected by love

Hi Sweet Girl,

I was sad this afternoon, thinking of how much I'm going to miss you while your Dad and I go to Cancun. I looked at you walking, stumbling, picking yourself up to standing again, and my heart was sad thinking we'll be apart for a week and a half.

Your Dadada is driving you to your Aunt & Uncle's tomorrow while I'm at work. I'm sure you'll make the best of it and play with your cousins, and I'll make the best of Cancun and try not to miss you too much, but we've never been apart more than a couple nights before.

Sense usurped sensitivity at last and I surrendered to enjoying you. I didn't want you to feel something was wrong, that my sadness meant you were doing something wrong, so I just felt the love I have for you, warming me.

You are such a fabulous little girl. Everytime you walk to me and throw your arms around me I melt into a big sloppy puddle. You know you're doing something good, too, walking with that big wild grin on your face.

Tonight we watched Charmed while I cleaned up the living room and then I decided it was time for Xena and I pulled out the DVD. You like Xena, I can tell because you point at the TV when the theme song comes on and say AAAYYYYY. Your Dadada, he's a great man, but he doesn't get Xena like we do.

I told you it was time for bed soon and you walked around wearing off some of the last dregs of your energy until you came over to me on the couch and lifted one leg to try to climb up. This is my cue to pick you up and lay you down spoon-like in front of me.

You fell asleep about halfway through the program, on top of me diagonally, your back on my chest, legs off me to the left. You had one arm reaching back, touching me under my chin and I had my right arm over your tummy, keeping you safe.

I made a wish while you slept, your face two inches from mine. I said that while we're apart that you are protected by love, light, and all that is good; and that every day we're apart you will feel my love for you and know that we will be together again soon.

Do you know I love you?
Mamama

Walking business

Dear Ava,

This whole walking thing is very strange. First of all, when I got home today you walked to the front door when you saw me. Walked!

Second, you just walked into your bedroom to play with toys. Walked!

Third, when I put you down a few minutes ago, you didn't want to go down into a sitting position, but instead extended your legs and took off walking from where I put you. There are fewer gaps of monkey-scoot between strides. I'm going to miss that monkey-scoot of yours when it goes.

My friend Victoria commented recently that kids (including her 18 month old Ian) just look different when they start walking. I agree, you look taller and smaller and just, well, older or wiser somehow.

You still hold your hands in "stick 'em up" pose, so you walk around looking like a baby cactus. You used to sleep like a baby cactus when you were a month or two old, now you walk like a baby cactus.

It's just strange, really, this whole walking business. Next you're going to start calling me to pick you up from the mall. Where has my little girl gone?

Love,
Mamama

Lounging in the morning

Hi little one,

The mornings I am home with you are my favorite mornings of all. There's no rush, no hurry, we lounge around in bed with you sitting, flopping back, flopping on me, pulling yourself up with the metal headboard.

This morning was like this; you slept with me last night because I was feeling selfish. I was gone from 7AM until 9PM last night; I missed you and wanted you close.

Your chirps and short cries woke me, I opened my eyes and you were staring at me with your big brown ojos. I smiled, you smiled, then you leaned over to bite my nose. You were fascinated with my hair, picking it up and running it through you fingers. Soon enough, I promise, your hair will be as long as mine.

We lounged for at least half an hour, the TV dark and silent, the morning completely ours with no distractions. We played a quick game of modified peek-a-boo where I hid my face under the sheet and you "found me."

Now, you are about ready for a nap, evident by the whine, and from the obvious smell you could use a clean diaper. I better get to that...

love,
Mamama

Toy on the table

Hi sweetest girl,

You are starting to resist naps big time. I even went so far today as to gate us into your bedroom, lay down on the yellow couch in your room, and pretend to sleep in hopes that you'd do the same. No dice. I think I even fell asleep for a few minutes because when I opened my eyes again you'd emptied out the contents of your dresser onto the floor. Then, when I had given up hope and was about to take you to the grocery store to get dinner, you started your trademark "nobody loves me" whine and I gave you a pacifier and rocked you for ten seconds and you were gone.

I can't start dinner, because dinner ingredients are still at the grocery store, and I can't very well leave because you're asleep.

So I started working and on the table was one of your toys. I could picture the future moment when you would be out the door, away at college, and there would be no toys on the table. I didn't even have a second to be irritated that I had to put yet another toy away, because I could feel time dissolving the distance between now and then. Today, you're getting closer to being a full time walker, tomorrow, you're taking that acceptance letter and packing for some college that is probably not as close as SFSU or even Berkeley.

I'm glad the house doesn't have to be perfect, that I don't have to rush to put away the toys you skattered on the floor, that I don't scream in agony when I have to pick up the clothes you ripped out of your dresser that I did just neatly fold and put away.

I'm glad, at least today, that I can smile about it. I can see far enough into the future to enjoy the toy on the table while you're asleep in your crib, 144 inches, not miles, away.

I love you stinky-dink,
Mamama

Ava celebrates her sixteen month birthday

Hi stinky-dink!

Today, you are sixteen months old. We celebrated this exciting event with buying you big-girl walking shoes from Nordstrom. As always, I couldn't buy you pink shoes, I bought you super purple shoes! My bank account hurt just a little as I dropped $50 on shoes for you, but since these are your first shoes, I couldn't resist.

We also celebrated today by hanging out with our friends Amy and Jack. We went to lunch at olive garden where you and Jack swung spaghetti noodles high over your heads and then cracked them like whips.

We then went to the petting zoo, where you touched goats' horns, surprised at the hardness of them and wondering why the small black and white animals at home don't have these. You always love the ducks, and tried more than once to climb into the duck pond although I insisted it wasn't a good day for swimming. You monkey scooted your way across the petting zoo getting your new shoes all dusty.
We finished our SF Zoo experience with a ride on the carousel horse, you in front, me in back. I asked you mid-ride what you thought and you responded with "Yaaaaayyyyyy!"

You are such a beautiful child, a wonderful child, and a curious child. Your latest tricks are to cover your eyes for peek-a-boo when I say "Where's Ava?" and then you take your hands off and giggle when I say "There she is!" You love your cupboard in the kitchen where you can empty all of the plastic containers onto the floor and watch me put them away. You walk sometimes, not always, but when you do you grin uncontrollably because you know you are doing something BIG.

I love you more each day,

Mamama

Alphabet sleeping

Hi my sweet girl,

Sleeping is always an event with a surprise beginning around here. You don't have a predictable bedtime, unless predictable can be defined as plus or minus an hour, and where you fall asleep is even more unpredictable. Sometimes you fall asleep on the living room floor, sometimes you fall asleep next to me in bed, sometimes you fall asleep in my arms in the rocking chair, but almost never do you fall asleep solo in your crib.

I know, in Mom School they told me that I'm supposed to teach you to fall asleep in your crib, even if it means you're crying forever. Usually I only use that as a tool to get you sleepy. I'll put you in your crib when I know you just need to cry for a bit to get good and tired, then I'll take you out after about five minutes and rock you or hold you until you drift off.

Before you could stand up I'd let you cry laying down, but when you're standing up in your crib, holding your arms out, I fall for the trap and pick you up. I reason that you're only this little for a short while, and it's an indulgence for myself as well as you.

The other mystery of every night is where you end up sleeping. Some nights I put you in your crib after you fall asleep. Then your Dadada falls asleep on the couch in front of the TV, because he knows I won't sleep with the TV on in the bedroom, and we all sleep stretched out in different places.

Then some nights, Dadada sleeps with me, or just you sleep with me, but the nights my heart loves most but my back likes least is ones like last night, when we all sleep in the same bed.

The night starts out with us all sleeping parallel, like I's. Then you shift in the middle of the night and we become an H or even an N. Last night I woke up at some pre-dawn hour and saw we were an upside-down A, your Dadada and I the angles and you the center cross. A bit later you started crying and I pulled you close. We became a V.

I know, at Mom School they said I shouldn't get you used to sleeping with me, but to them I stick out my tongue and say PPTHTTTT! You don't want to sleep with us every night and some nights I feel you just want to be close to us, that you need extra comfort, extra love. What's the harm in that? I'm reminded of a story my friend Stef once recounted about a mother-daughter pair who slept in the same bed, the mother's point being "Who wants to sleep alone?"

Tonight though, you fell asleep in the car on the way home from Nana's and we put you right into your crib. I'll see you in the morning, my love.

Mamama

Befriending the green-eyed monster

Hi little one,

Someday when you are older, you will be able to match the feeling of jealousy with the word. Oddly enough, you're inheriting jealousy from me, not your father. He is one of the few Mexican men that isn't jealous, and I didn't think that I was either, but my roots are showing.

My first hint of jealousy is anger. Usually when I feel angry, underneath the anger is jealousy. I feel like someone else has something that I want, something that I think would make my life better, make me happier, and their life is better because they have this - whatever this is.

I see this in you, too. Your Dadada will hug me, and you scream from the floor. He's taking your Mamama away from you. Is this true? Not in the slightest, because really, although you don't know it, you want your parents to be happy together. I'm guessing you see this as a loss, a theft, because Dadada is getting my attention instead of you.

It's okay, my love, I do this all the time. I get jealous of others for having something I want - sometimes it's just the fact that they live by themselves and get to have all the quiet and solitude I used to enjoy. I don't want this all the time, because I miss you terribly if we're apart for a whole day, but sometimes I want to be by myself and I find it's impossible. I see someone else living by themselves and I want what I think they have. The funny thing about jealousy though, is it usually happens in both directions. The friend I envy because she lives alone probably envies me because I have you and your Dadada. I have a family, and she wants that.

I also get jealous of friends that are home all the time with their Ava's because they have that luxury of time I don't think I have in juggling work, you, Dadada, and a slice of time for me. But I would bet some of them are jealous that I have work to go to, that I'm not at home all the time. Maybe they are, maybe they're not. That's the thing about jealousy, you never know, but it messes everyone up just the same.

Jealousy can be more than just an irritation though. Jealousy, when used properly, can be really useful. Jealousy can be something like an alarm, signaling action. If I can look at jealousy as something to learn from rather than hide and avoid, maybe I can teach you about that too.

When I feel jealous of my friend with her own place, maybe instead of being bitter and angry, what my jealousy is really telling me is that I need some time to myself. I need a Julie Day and I need to ask for help in getting some time alone.

When I am jealous of others that have more time with their Ava's, maybe really what I need is to enjoy the time I have with you. On our days together I don't need to rush around doing errands that are of minor importance as long as we have milk in the refrigerator. We can just play on the living room floor and you can show me what you've learned since our last day together. Instead of feeling angry that we don't have enough time, when I'd be a nervous wreck if I wasn't working, I can be grateful for the time I do have.

As for you, my little pumpkin, I can tell you that your Dadada isn't taking anything away from you when he cuddles with me on the couch, really what he's giving you is happy parents. I don't expect this will make sense yet. What I can do though is work on my own jealousy and use it as a barometer rather than a mosquito bite, and maybe your jealousy will sort itself out too.

Rock, Rock, Till You Drop

My little one,

You have not made up your mind about walking yet. In theory, you think it is a great idea, adding to your mobility and ability to get to and empty the rubbermaid cabinet more quickly, but in practice, you do not think it's everything big people make it out to be. There is a big advantage to your monkey-scoot, you reason, as it doesn't involve the intricate balance of moving your feet synchronously as you try not to fall down. No matter, you'll be there soon enough.

What you do love, however, is climbing into the big, wooden, grown-up rocking chair in the living room and rocking furiously as if it will get you to Christmas quicker.

This all started last Saturday, when it was hot in San Francisco, which nearly never happens in July, and I had you stripped down to a diaper mid-day instead of the usual mid-summer snowsuit.

You monkey-scooted over to the rocking chair, and pausing only momentarily to see if I was really watching you (I was), grabbed onto the arm of the chair, swung one leg up onto the seat, then hauled up your tummy, and yes, to be certain, you were on the rocking chair. You sat down as if you'd done this a million times, leaned forward, and started rocking back and forth, laughing all the way.

I helped you get down that first time, and once earlier today when you though you should scoot your behind to the edge of the chair and jump down, instead of coming off the chair backwards like some kind of sane baby (that must be an oxymoron). As you were about to belly-flop onto the hardwood floor I caught you, spiderman-like a centimeter from the floor. You cried anyway, perhaps because you were looking forward to the belly flop and I, in my haste to save you, ruined a wonderful belly flop.

You mount the rocking chair at least three times a day, from what I can see, and I watch, laugh, and think what a big girl you're becoming...

All my love,
Now and forever,
Mamama

These Feets Were Made For Walkin'

Hi kitten,

Every day you are getting bolder in literally stepping away from your supports. I am awed by your sudden confidence, boldness, in turning away from the chair that supports you and toddling about on your own two feet.

You walk a little like Frankenstein, wobbly but with determination and confidence that grows with every step. I am amazed that last Friday you were pushing a stool around as an improvised walker, and today you turn away from it and walk to the center of the room, taking one, two, three, four, five, six, and maybe seven steps until your knees shake and you realize you're really WALKING and you plop to the ground.

You keep trying though, letting go of each support, walking towards me, walking away from me. You are teaching me to never give up.

love,
your mamama

A beautiful butterfly

Hi my sweet girl,

When I was about four months pregnant, I went out to Colorado to visit your Grandma Jenny. We went shopping at the Carter's store picking out various clothes in gender-neutral colors because your Dadada and I didn't know whether you were a boy or a girl. We didn't want to know, and during the ultrasound at 11 weeks, you didn't want us to know either because you crossed your legs so the nurse couldn't see.

So your Grandma Jenny and I had a pile of clothes, some even in pale blue, when I saw this pink onesie with a butterfly and the text "A Beautiful Butterfly" in a 9 month size. I had to have it.

See, I knew, deep down in my gut and instinct knew you were a girl. I had dreams of you being a girl, when I imagined you talking to me from the womb, you had a girl's voice, I just knew.

We had one outfit that was dark blue and when we got to the register I couldn't buy it. I couldn't picture you in a boy outfit.

Up until the last month of my pregnancy, I knew you were a girl, but then doubt penetrated my intuition. As we grew nearer and then passed my due date of 3/27, I had to have another ultrasound and this time your Dadada and I said the nurse could tell us your gender.

"I can tell, are you sure you want to know?" the nurse asked us.

"Yes."

"I can see...labia."

You were a girl, I knew it.

First solo flight

My little one,

Last night was rough. The night started off deceptively easy as you fell asleep in my arms as Dadada and I were watching "Honeymoon in Vegas" on TV. I felt the utter and complete peace that washes over me when you rest your head against my chest and doze off. This bliss is only surpassed by the fabulous hormone rush when you were still nursing that could put us both to sleep.

But then, you were awake off and on for the next couple hours, at one point screaming out for five minutes with your eyes shut. I blame that pesky new tooth, because it's a convenient nemesis for my blame, but after we watched you scream forever, I got the Tylenol ready while your Dadada picked you up. Even in sleep, I reasoned, you shouldn't have to be in so much pain.

After that, you slept for a bit longer in your crib, but when you woke again a couple hours later, I pulled you into bed with me. You were on fire, my love, and not in a good way. Your little body could have heated our whole house. I thought twice that I should put a pillow on the other side of you, just in case you started your typical wild rolling, but didn't do anything about it.

Yes, I lived to regret that. Sometime in the middle of the night, you rolled over and plummeted to the floor and started screaming. I wanted to join you in screaming, believe me! I felt completely awful, hugging you close to me, vowing to not let you fall again. If only I had followed my instincts!

I put you back in my bed, knowing there was no way you would sleep in your crib tonight, putting a couple pillows and a rolled up blanket on the other side of you. You tossed and turned and there was pretty much no way I would fall asleep for fear you'd roll over the pillows and onto the floor again.

Finally, I came up with a solution that would keep you from rolling off, but gave me the worst backache I've had in a while. I put us both on the hard yellow couch in your room, you on the inside, me on the out, and we slept like that for the rest of the night.

At 8AM we both woke, and I felt like some giant person had sat on me in the middle of the night.

Now it's nearly noon, and you could use a nap, I could use a nap, but as I started to open my laptop, I just witnessed your first solo flight, little fledgling. You were holding onto the table leg, facing away from me, and you let go, taking one...two...three...four steps all by yourself.

Tears moistened my eyes as I watched these steps. I felt so honored, that on this sleep-deprivation Sunday, I just witnessed your first solo flight.

Now you have fallen asleep in my lap as I've been typing one handed. Those four steps are enough to tire you out, and I'm going to gently put you down in your crib, not on my bed, because I got the lesson at 3AM.

love always,
Mamama

PB&J and Milk

Hello my sweet girl,

This week you've eaten pb&j sandwiches at least four times. I wonder if there's some legal dietary constraint mandating that pb&j must be consumed no more than three times in a week or they, whomever they are, are going to haul me off to the dietary detention facility. I swear it's been whole grain bread, the jelly is lower-sugar fruit spread, and the pb contains only peanuts, not all those ingredients I can't pronounce. Maybe they'll take it easy on me.

You made me laugh though, because after you ate one of your pb&j bites you would reach your arms out, as if you reached just a little bit further you could possibly grab your sippy cup of milk that was at least two feet away.

When I handed it to you, you drank mightly, as if you hadn't seen liquid in months, and let out this fabulous gasp, Aaaaahhhhhh! That was obviously the best milk cows have ever made.

love always,
your Mamama

Dancing with dadada

Water Fun

Hi my little love,

You just took a bath, preceeded, of course, by the "someone is going to get a bath" and "naked baby dance" songs. I think you know these songs mean you're going to get a bath since I've sung them to you from the time you started taking baths after your umbilical cord stump was eased off by your doctor.

Now you have a cute belly button where that cord used to be, but as usual, I digress.

This week your cousins Jonathan (9) and Destiny (6) arrived from SoCal to hang out with your Nana and our tribe of three. You've had a busy week with them - we went to the Zoo on Tuesday where the prarie dogs have replaced the penguins as your favorite animals. I took you out of your stroller and you kept pulling yourself up and tapping on the plexiglass that separated them from you. Your cousin Jonathan loved the lions best, especially because he got to see them eat lunch, and we're still not sure what Destiny liked best.

Today you, me, your Dadada, the cousins, Jacque, Tina, Brianna, and Brooke all went to waterworld where you & I hung out on the grass while the others went off to partake of the waterslides. We were bored soon enough, me more than you, as you were entertained by climbing up onto the plastic lounge chair, scooting up and down the length, then climbing off onto the ground. You did this numerous times until I finally said we were going to grab and innertube and float along the Lazy River ride.

As soon as we got situated, where I was laying across the tube with my bottom touching the water, you riding on my stomach, we had more fun than should be legal. You screamed everytime we got splashed by some errant kid, but for the most part, you loved watching the world float by from Mamama's tummy. We tried this again after lunch, but it didn't fare as well because I couldn't get off of the inner tube without sending both of us underwater. I wanted to scream, but you screamed enough for the two of us! A couple more years and you'll love the water park, but for now, the bathtub is really all you need for guaranteed water fun.

You have been quite the climber for the last couple weeks. You have mastered the art of mounting and dismounting your trusty wooden steed, and also your little tyke tricycle. Your feet can't quite touch the ground from the trike yet, but if enthusiasm could power those wheels, you would be out of the house and down the block by now.

You're still putting everything possible in your mouth, but we did just figure out that you're growing a new tooth. It's not one of those giant baby molars you grew four of a couple months ago, but it's one on top between the four teeth on top and that molar - one of the bicuspids for sure. Your Dadada and I were really relieved to see that a tooth was the cause of your utter misery last night because when I say you were not yourself, I mean that it was like someone replaced my happy pleasant little girl with one who cries all the time and cannot be consoled by anything. We were also blaming the full moon, which we do whenever there is one around to blame, but I was relieved to see a tooth peek its painful spikes through your tender gums. Growing teeth is hard business!

Now, you are thinking about mounting your trusty steed, but really you're trying to see what I'm doing on my computer which is my cue to post and sign off.

I love you, my little one, today and always.
Mamama

I have a comb and I'm not afraid to use it

Who's the fairest?

Right now, my little girl, you are swinging your hips to Hall and Oats "Out of Time" while holding onto the pole of a floor-to-ceiling lamp. There's a mirror in front of you, and I swear you are kissing your reflection.

One of your favorite things to do is find your Dadada's camelback water pack and drink out of the blue straw tube. I don't believe you're always thirsty, but you can never be too hydrated.

You stands in moments, solid for about ten seconds before falling backwards onto your behind or forward to grab onto something. Balance, you are learning about balance. You watched me do a yoga half moon pose and started laughing. I bet it did look really funny to see me balancing on one foot, one arm, with my other appendages up in the air. I was shaky too, I'm also learning about balannce.