Letters To My Daughter

One Sticker

2011-12-10T11:59:00.001-08:00

Hi sweet girl,

Someday you may remember this story, when perchance reading this blog, or maybe when you have a son or daughter someday.

Today we were driving to Target, early, to beat the Holiday Chaos Shopping, and as we turned the corner near the parking lot, you asked me to roll down your window and then roll it back up. I looked back and saw you toss something very small out the window.

"Did you just litter?" I asked, borderline angry.

Your sheepish, rather surprised look was the answer.

"What did you throw out the window?" I asked a couple times, but you didn't answer. The shock of what you did started to register, in a flushed face that looked near tears.

I said a couple other things that I don't remember now, probably about a thousand dollar fine for littering, slathered with guilt, as to why littering is bad. Then I stopped, and I put the question to you. "Tell me, Ava, three reasons why litter is bad."

You gave me a couple good answers - it makes the Earth look bad. It hurts the Earth. It could hurt dogs who could eat the litter.

I parked the car and we sat for a second. You admitted it was a sticker you threw out the window. I said, calmly at this point, "Here's the thing. You think it doesn't matter about one little sticker, right? But here's the thing. You start with one small sticker. Someone else sees that sticker, and tosses their gum wrapper, because there is already a sticker. Then someone else sees the sticker and the gum wrapper, and tosses their fast food wrapper or coffee cup, because there is already litter. Suddenly that one sticker has attracted more and more litter, and the street looks horrible.

"That's why Daddy is cleaning the streets around our neighborhood. Daddy is doing such a great job of cleaning up, putting out trash cans, and our whole neighborhood looks better. There is less graffiti, less dumping of old mattresses and broken furniture. It all starts with cleaning up litter ... which all starts with one gum wrapper or one sticker or one coffee cup that someone drops on the ground and is too lazy to pick up.

"Pinky promise me," I asked you, "that you'll never litter again."

And you did, both of us smiling as we shook pinky fingers.

Almost 7

2011-03-29T18:51:00.000-07:00

Hi my sweetie,

The house is empty tonight - you and Daddy are still in Tahoe, likely resting or playing after skiing today. You asked Daddy to call me this morning, on your way to Sierra, and after asking me where the water pack is, you said someone wanted to say "Hi" to me. Turned out it was Rocco, your Zhu Zhu pet that looks like a raccoon wanted to chirp 'hello' and a bit later, goodbye.

You are such a big girl, such an amazing kid. We had our regularly semi-annual parent-teacher conference with Brooke, your first grade teacher a couple weeks back, and she was positively glowing about you. Your reading level is equivalent to a beginning third grader, your math skills have become strong and confident over the past couple months, and overall you are one incredible kid. I think your teacher was proud, but probably not as proud as Daddy and me.

Then there's skiing. This week you skied your 16th, 17th, and possibly 18th days of the year, and you are barreling down the mountain like a maniac. A reasonably in control maniac, albeit. You're sort of working on turns, but your confidence is good, and you follow Daddy or I with no problem, and I don't have to slow down for you, much! Today in fact, Daddy said you were going off small jumps and following him through trees ... watch out, here comes Ava!

You had your regular visit to the "tooth doctor" last week, where we saw that you have six grown up teeth (bottom two front, and front and back molars), with four more teeth on their way. You're so good at the dentist, and you like the special toothbrush that polishes your teeth because it tickles. This time as your prize you got a red thin "fortune fish" that tells if you're in love, jealous, fickle, and the like. Once it said you were in love, so I questioned who you were in love with ... you adamantly deny you're in love with any boy in your class. So we agreed, you and I, that we're both in love with Daddy.

You are talkative, animated, and incredibly imaginative. You're excited that the cherry tree out back is blossoming, as it does every year around your birthday. A few years back Daddy threatened to cut down that tree, as it was pruned badly by previous owners, but I refused. Even if it's not perfectly shaped, it's beautiful, and you appreciate it as much as I do, like a present to celebrate your birth.

We've come a long way - you, Daddy, and me. Seven years the three of us have been a family, time that has bonded us further, strengthening communication. Sometimes you ask me if we can have a baby, you think you'd like a baby sister, but no, it's not going to happen. Our tripod family is perfect, to me anyway. For you, we'll make do with your fourteen first cousins, and dozens of friends.

We still have Mommy and Ava days, the two of us. Sometimes we run errands, and sometimes we plan something different. I hope we can always have a slice of time that is just for us where we talk about everything and nothing.

You still call the remote control to the TV the "me-rote," which is so cute so I don't correct you. You're less cautious around adults you know, but still don't like talking to new people. You started in a weekly French class, and we have a new ritual of getting a 'croissant au chocolate' and steamed milk from the French bakery the morning after, before heading to school. You think it's funny that kids and adults see the paper cup and ask if you're drinking coffee.

You are an absolute monkey on the playground, swinging between metal rings, and climbing with absolute confidence. You stretch my limits of comfort to see you.

We're not sure yet, what we're doing for your birthday. You want a sleepover with girls from your class, which I'm limiting to three plus you, but then we're also talking about a big party, like we do on alternate years, where Daddy and I celebrate that we've made it this long as parents, and you are turning out okay.

Recently I sang to you the song I altered and sang in the hospital, at three in the morning, when you were wide awake with those luscious dark eyes, "just call me angel, I'm your three AM angel, just pat my back so I can burp, Mommy..." And now you request it, my song to you, at one day old, where I knew you had my heart and my love, completely. I think you know it too, especially now when I make up new words.

But most of all, I love you, constantly. You will always be my three AM angel, and I will rub your back so you can sleep.

Love,
Forever,
Mommy

End of Kindergarten

2010-06-05T07:52:00.000-07:00

Hi sweet girl,

Kindergarten is complete, graduation ceremony was Thursday and yesterday was the last day of the school year.

During the year you had your sixth birthday, and now you frequently ask when will you be seven. Like so many kids before you, myself likely included, the next age seems better, bolder, brighter. You couldn't wait to finish kindergarten and be a BIG FIRST GRADER. As Mommy, I just want to hold onto this precious age of innocent delight and pleasure with uncensored self-expression.

During your graduation ceremony, when it was your turn to receive your certificate and take the microphone, you shared that your favorite part of Kindergarten wasn't the butterflies, or dress-up, or anything reasonably predictable, nope, not you. Your favorite part, you told the audience of nearly a hundred people, your favorite part was clean-up. Clean up!? A few parents asked if I knew this would be your answer, I didn't have words to hide my surprise. This doesn't necessarily transition from school to home, unfortunately, although you do like vacuuming, sometimes.

Then later in the park, during the picnic, your wish for first grade as you released your butterfly that you watched metamorphosis from caterpillar to chrysalis to the winged "Painted Lady," wonderfully named "Banana," was that everyone would do a good job.

Whether these expressions were truly yours, or influenced by what you thought we would want to hear, I'm not sure. I think though, they were yours.

You play with nearly everyone in your class (boys are still pretty stinky), but your BFF's are still, always, the P and the S. Right now S is in England with her family, but we've already sent her a letter. I held you up to the big wall map downstairs and showed you where England is, and how S took a plane that went all the way across the US and then jumped the Pond. Your eyes grew big, somehow comprehending and not the distance. I enjoy thinking of the day you will cross the US, cross the pond, and visit a land so far to find people are the same everywhere and the world is a big, yet small place.

You still love sleeping with Mommy and/or Daddy. Even if you start the night in your own bed, by 4 or 5AM you make the short trek from your room to ours and climb in, snuggling up to me. "Are you my Snuggle Bug?" I ask you sometimes. "Yes!" you say in words, or nods, or smiles.

You are learning so much, from me, from Daddy, from your teacher, whom you adore, and friends. Each of us teaches you a tiny bit, contributing to the whole that is you. From me, you have a love of books, interest in reading. You've come a long way, little one, and can read many words out of many books, especially those by Dr. Seuss. I am so proud, so emotional, feeling your delight when you correctly read a word. We read at bedtime nearly every night, sometimes you read, sometimes I read. I have to thank Borders as well, for starting their book reading game, because it's inspired you to read 10 books mostly by yourself to get the free book from the bookstore. I made you a deal, as you would say, that if you don't like the free book (as they're for a little older age group), I would buy you another book you do like. You just asked me not half an hour ago, looking at the page of books we've read, when, Mommy, when are we going to the bookstore to get your free book? Today, love, you and I are going today.

After we completed reading book 8, in your anticipation of completing you grabbed a short book from your room, and insisted to Daddy and I that you had read it in your room. Nice try, but Daddy and I agreed you had to read it out loud, in front of us. You weren't willing to read it again, but ran up with a crayon to write the title on the page. It took a few days of coaxing to say that book didn't count, love, and by the way, now's a good time to learn that short-cutting doesn't pay. The whole point is to learn how to read, the free book is just a bonus.

From Daddy, you are learning to love sports. Daddy has been coaching the "big kids" at school - the fifth through eighth graders in basketball and futsal (indoor soccer), which inspired your request, I'm sure, for a basketball hoop for your birthday. I'm delighted you are getting this from him, because organized sports aren't something I can give you.

One thing Daddy and I both want for you is a good college. We have slightly different ideas on what "good" is, but after a impassioned debate on the way to Grandma's last weekend, agreed that what we both want is somewhere that is good for you. Daddy would prefer it *not* be his school - SF State. I would be fine with UC Davis. Daddy would prefer a school that is strong academically and competitive within college sports. Although Davis does have sports teams, he's thinking more along the lines of Berkeley or Stanford. I saw dollar signs flash before my eyes and started a 529 for you this week!

What we finally agreed was that we would wait and see what school suited you. We would give you all the information we could to see what setting would suit you. Davis was good for me, but Santa Barbara may have been as well. SF State got Daddy out of So Cal to the bay area, which he has finally come to enjoy after a decade and a half!

Last week, when you said you don't want to go to college, do you have to? You want to stay in this house with Daddy and me forever. (Forever!) I said, wanting to ease this into your head, knowing that force and pressure never inspire. Honey, you can go to college now like you go to Kindergarten. There are good schools close by (Berkeley, and even Stanford is reasonable with a car), and you can go during the day and come home at night. You were pretty relieved, I can imagine that it's a pretty scary thought at six years old to think of leaving us now. This was a good enough answer for you, and I gave you full permission to change your mind.

The balance is shifting, I know, to where you want more time with your friends, and a bit less time with me. But for now, I treasure our Mommy and Ava days, hours, and moments, where sometimes it is making muffins, and sometimes it's that book before bed.

I'm so proud of you, my sweet girl, and as much as you frustrate me some days with the attitude I want to put in a box, I know it's important in becoming uniquely, you.

Do you know I love you?
One million,
plus infinity.
Mommy

Six

2010-04-05T18:21:00.000-07:00

This morning when you woke, you said to me "Mommy, you have to tell me Happy Birthday!"

And so I did, enthusiastically.

What can I tell you about the darling, delightful, happy, charming, sometimes capricious and and seldom petulant, little girl that is you.

Food. You are skeptical of food you haven't tried, and even skeptical of food you used to like. You don't like grilled cheese sandwiches and french fries, perhaps the only one of a million your age. You do like tofu, a decent amount of vegetables, including artichokes, broccoli, carrots, peas, and brussel sprouts. You will sometimes eat chicken, sometimes eggs, which you used to love, and now don't, and seldom any kind of beef, and never bacon. Chocolate is your sweet of choice, but you do ask first and sometimes challenge if you don't like the answer, but I've never seen you sneak candy when you thought I wasn't looking.

School. You love kindergarten. You love, love, love your teacher Miss Brooke, and Daddy and I do as well. We got extremely lucky in your kindergarten teacher, who considers you one of her favorites, even if she can't say that out loud. You are learning to read, and delighted when you can read whole short sentences. Sometimes you guess at words rather than sounding them out. You love math - we play games with adding, and after watching a lot of Schoolhouse Rock we've started playing multiplying games. We're doing a bit of subtraction and no division, as of yet.

Friends. Your two BFF's as of this writing are Perrine and Sufi. You want to write them letters when you're not at school, want play dates on the weekends, these are your friends and you are happy about that. Miss Brooke said you often make up games during recess - once you three were detectives searching for clues.

Last week was your spring break, and I decided to take spring break right along with you. We didn't do much outside the house or the city, except go to the Monterey Bay Aquarium with Daddy and Papa, where you loved all the activities involving pushing buttons. Personally, I liked the seahorses and jelly fish best, but you, it was all about the buttons.

You are still the smallest kid in your class, but your personality is ten feet tall. You are still shy around new people, and Daddy and I are asking that you at least acknowledge the many compliments you get with a "thank you" and greet someone new with "Hi." You're getting there, easing your way into social graces, and I am not going to cajole or force you far beyond your comfort zone.

You like playing with your barbies, but you also love your battery-operated train set. You told Daddy you wanted a basketball net for your birthday, after watching Daddy coach his boys' basketball team, not after watching our bracket fall apart in March Madness.

The other day you asked me how can you become a princess. One of your friends, evidently, wants to be a princess when she grows up. I replied, honestly, that either her mommy and daddy have to be the queen and king, or she has to marry a prince. Then I asked you, what do you want to be when you grow up?

A doctor. You replied. I asked whether you wanted to be a doctor for people or for animals, and you said animals. Okay, works for me, I thought, wondering what it would be next year. I'll have to remember to ask.

All in all, my love, you are the best little girl I could ask for, and I wouldn't trade you for anything. I can't believe it's been six years since you exited my body, and made your grand appearance in the world. I can still remember holding you in the hospital bed, singing "just call me angel, I'm your two AM angel..."

I love you sweetie, I love you one million. And that's a lot.

Mommy

Santa likes silver trees ...

2009-12-14T18:02:00.001-08:00

And pajamas with feet!

Your first art exhibit

2009-12-10T17:04:00.000-08:00

Memories in the heart

2009-12-01T16:14:00.000-08:00

Hi little one,

Time for a story.

Seven years ago, in September 2002, I went with Papa to Africa for a month. Part of that trip was a safari across the Serengeti in Botswana. I took so many pictures, that one day I decided I would watch without the camera lens.

I was hiding in my home-made CD mix (before I had an ipod), and as we drove through a particular arid spot, U2's "Beautiful Day" started playing, and as I looked in the distance I saw a progression of twenty or so elephants in the distance.

Everytime this song plays, for a moment I am transported back seven years to warm sun, the slow breeze of driving in an open-sided land rover, watching elephants parade in the distance.

Sometimes the best way to capture memories are in our minds, by memorizing the smell, the feel, and if we're lucky, a piece of music that binds the memory, creating an easily accessible piece of the past.

love,
Mommy

Highlights

2009-11-24T09:07:00.001-08:00

Hi honey,

Last night I was reading a magazine article, and got the idea to ask you what was your favorite thing that happened during the day.

"You mean a Highlight." you corrected me.

I'm game. "Okay, a highlight, what was your highlight?"

"My highlight was when I came home and saw you."

wow.

Later that night, when you easily convinced me to take a bath with you., I asked if you learned about highlights in school.

"Yes," you said, rather vague, "highlights are something that happens during the day."

"Something good, right?"

"Yes, Mommy what was your highlight?"

"Taking a bath with Ava." Your smile was the best response.

There are days when the mommy scale tips in my favor, and makes up for the days when it doesn't. Days when the love is so palpable, so tangible, that the imprint surrounds memories. Those are highlights of life.

I love you,
but you know that,
right?

Mommy

"I" Messages

2009-11-17T14:25:00.000-08:00

Hi my little love,

At school you have learned "I" messages, as a way to express yourself. This morning, you tearfully walked up to me in the kitchen, wrapped in your blanket pajamas with feet, and said:

"Mommy, I have an "I" message for you." Sniff.

"Okay, honey, what is it?"

"I feel sad that you shut the door to the bathroom when I was inside. It scared me."

"Okay, my love, what do you want me to do?" This is part of the "I" message script

"I want you to say sorry."

"I'm so sorry honey, I didn't mean to scare you."
I picked you up in a big hug until the tears were under control. I was so proud of you for using words to express yourself.

love,
always,
Mommy

2009-11-12T15:04:00.001-08:00

Conversations

2009-09-26T23:59:00.000-07:00

You: I wish we could have a garage sale.
Me: Really, what would you sell?
You: Everything I don't like.

....

Me, as I pull into the bank parking lot, trying to explain where money comes from:
I'm going to the bank to get money, because I go to work, they put money in the bank for me
You: Because I go to school, there is money in the bank.

No, I didn't correct you. I loved your logic, and someday I'll explain passive and active income, but this was good enough for today.

...

In gymnastics today, you weren't listening to the teacher, and after reminding you, loudly, a couple times, my Angry Mom brain kicked in and grumbled, fortunately silently, that I was going to tell you if you didn't pay attention in gymnastics then we couldn't go anymore.

But fortunately Angry Mom Brain calmed down and at the end of class what I did say was "Honey, I thought you did great today, and noticed you did great especially when you were listening to your teacher. So maybe next time you can listen to your teacher more?"

You nodded.

"And next time at the start of class I can remind you to listen to your teacher."

I don't remember your exact words, but there were no pouts, no tears, no bad feelings, and I was proud of myself for not giving in to idle, angry threats.

It's not easy to be a mom all the time, but I always love being a mom to you.

Kindergarten Day 2

2009-09-01T19:38:00.000-07:00

My FB post today (slightly expounded), says it all:

Julie ... is feeling like my my mom license should be suspended after hurrying to leave Ava at Kindergarten after 15 min in the school office sorting out forms with her wanting to show me how she zipped up her own sweatshirt, followed by five minutes of extra hugs in the classroom, because I was going to be late to work and she had that pouty "I'm ...a big girl so I won't cry" face that nearly broke my heart. I miss preschool already. [end of FB post]

All of this was preceded by driving 40 minutes across town to said Kindergarten, where one person honked at me because I didn't side swipe an oncoming car, and I honked at one guy double parked, then felt miniscule when I saw his daughter getting out of the car.

Day 2 was a bit harder than day 1, but you were dressed super-cute with those extra long growing out bangs back in side pony tails, jean skirt with pink leggings.

I was sending you love all day little one, every time I looked at that cute pic from yesterday on my computer background. We'll figure this out, I promise.

love,
Mommy

Kindergarten

2009-08-31T13:18:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, is today a Kindergarten day?" you asked on waking, eyes blinking away sleep.

"I hope so, my love," I responded.

We've had quite an adventure finding you a kindergarten, that all started with the crazy public school lottery system in this beautiful city by the bay. Back in January we submitted our list of 7 schools into the lottery, got one we weren't happy about, didn't register, forgot to sign up for the second lottery, and a couple months later put our names on the "waiting pool" list for one nearby our house. And we waited, and waited, and called periodically with no updates.

Last Monday 8/24 school started for most, but alas, not for us. I sat down with you the Sunday prior when you asked me about Kindergarten, and said as truthfully as possible, that because Mommy and Daddy messed up you didn't have a kindergarten yet.

Last week Daddy went through some Herculean gymnastics to get a school for you, including multiple visits to our waiting pool school, daily visits to the district where he became increasingly upset at the system, until finally on one visit he spoke to a school district manager and out dropped a plum - we may want to check on the two charter schools in the city that are part of the district, but allow us the possibility to transfer to another district school should we choose.

And THAT is how Daddy found Creative Arts Charter School, how he delighted in the music room with a baby grand piano, the cleanliness of the school, and the central location that makes it easy for all involved to help out.

You've been so patient, my love, I am proud beyond measure. This morning as you asked me that first question, I said next, shall we ask the Angels for help? Yes, you nodded.

I whispered then, "Angels, please let us start Kindergarten today."

Bless them, they answered.

love,
always,
Mommy

Choices & Decisions

2009-08-03T09:53:00.001-07:00

How to decide between two things, according to you:

Meenie meenie miney mo,
Catch a tiger halla toe
If he hallas letmgo
Meenie meenie miney mo.

-

2009-07-08T11:49:00.001-07:00

"Home is just another word for you."
- Billy Joel, Piano Man Album

Conversations

2009-07-08T11:23:00.000-07:00

Conversation #1:
Me: I wish you would trust me, I think you'll like the (Terriaki) chicken
You: What's trust?
Me, pondering: Trust is when I say something and you believe that it's true.
You, pondering.

Conversation #2:
You: Mommy, how many are you?
Me: Forty, well, almost forty in a couple weeks.
You: I wish I was forty.
Me: Why?
You: Then I could be like you.

I love you, sweet girl.
Mommy

The llama in the bolcano and other Ava stories

2009-06-24T15:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday you and I were playing a game with plastic easter eggs. you cracked one open and whooshed as something exploded out of it. My task was to guess what exploded.

a fountain? was my first guess
no

a geyser? second guess
no

what is it? i asked, out of ideas

LLAMA!

Llama?

Yes! The llama that comes out of the bolcano!

I tried to explain that you may mean lava and not llama, but you would hear none of it, and was trying valiantly to muffle laughter.

-------------

A few days ago, on a rare quiet evening you and I were making mixed up chip cookies, when you commented, as nonchalantly commenting on the weather, that you kissed Ben at school today.

I picked up this comment, inspected it mentally, pretending you had just said something as blase as you had broccoli for lunch, and replied, Really? Where did you kiss him?

All over, again so unemotionally attached that you could be commenting on the weather.

Did you kiss him here? I replied, pointing at your nose, or here? Pointing at your stomach.

I kissed him ALL OVER! you said with amusement. Like this, you said, and kissed the air in front of my face a dozen times with your daddy's trademark air kisses. AND THEN I grabbed the back of his shirt and chased him around the playground.

What could I say to that? I just thanked those on duty upstairs that you would tell me this, and hope it's planting good seeds for when you're a teenager.

love,
Mommy

Professions

2009-05-26T11:15:00.000-07:00

You, as we are watering the vegetable sprouts:
"Mommy, when I grow up I want to be a gardener!"

You, later, as we are making mixed-up chip cookies:
"Mommy, when I grow up I want to be a baker!"

Me:
"A baker and a gardener?"

You:
"Yes! I can be ANYTHING!"

Me:
"Yes you can, my love, yes you can!"

Friends

2009-05-21T20:55:00.001-07:00

This is Fluffy, Because Conejito Wasn't Available

2009-05-21T20:35:00.001-07:00

I'm almost embarassed to write this ...

2009-05-21T16:32:00.001-07:00

Me:
Will conejito go with you to school today?

You:
No, conejito is sick.

Me:
Really? What is wrong with little rabbit?

You:
She drank too much of Mommy Rabbit's beer and now her tummy hurts.

Me:
Oh! Let little rabbit she is too young to be drinking beer. She has to be 21 to drink beer.
While I'm thinking, she really did notice that bad-assed hangover I had last week. Ouch!

You:
No she's not. She's two and a half.

Oh man, what do I say to that?

Five Years

2009-04-13T09:43:00.000-07:00

Well, my big little girl, you are now five years old. The shift in your personality over the last couple weeks has been vast and minuscule simultaneously. You need me more and you need me less. I could easily say you are a beautiful dynamic contradiction.

Daddy and I cleaned up the house, the yard, and hosted a party in our honor. Sure, you were the birthday girl, but Daddy and I were also celebrating five years of successful parenting. You are ten feet of personality packed into that tiny little frame, ferociously independent (surprise, surprise), and demanding attention. Really, you're not that demanding, it's more that you want regular attention, which can be a bit challenging these days.

Back to our party ... five of your friends from school came (Daniela, Izel, Kylie, Joseph, Fiona) , along with their parents. Along with those friends, Nana, Papa, Jacque, and a sprinkling of other friends and our neighbors up the street came for a while. The weather was beautiful, bright sunny skies and warm enough for shorts and t-shirts. Daddy and I are not sure which diety you appeased with your birth, but the weather has always been gorgeous the three years we've had parties for you.

Highlight of your party for you ... at one point you decided that you needed to put on a bathing suit, the new little mermaid one from Grandma Bear, and then all of your school friends also had to put on your bathing suits. We didn't realize how many bathing suits you had until that point! We had four little girls running around in states of undress changing into your bathing suits, then you all headed for the trampoline to bounce at the same time!

Highlights of your party, for me ... when I saw people from vastly different parts of my life chatting, immersed in conversation; when people who are normally reserved and cautious around others become bold and vivacious; when Nana and Papa took over the barbecue grill and got all the meat done easily; when everyone came in to eat and Daddy's homemade macaroni and cheese along with my first run of baked beans were the hit of the party; when the other parents commented on the butterfly cookies I'd made as parting gifts instead of gift bags. Perhaps you know by now, but for me, giving away something I've baked is the ultimate delight.

The biggest highlight though, for me, was to see how far you, Daddy, and I have come as a family. The last few months have been bumpy, like rutted muddy road without a 4WD truck bumpy. My job with the food company went away, we parted ways not as amicably as friends but not as hostile as bitter lovers. I took a break, started a new job that is not quite right for a few reasons, and have been on the lookout for a new one which is achingly close and agonizingly distant. Daddy and the food company finally parted last week, after two departures and returns. He had a promising interview last week in an area that he's a rock star, so I'm making my offerings of prayer and devotion to those on duty in the great cloud in the sky that miracles shower us today, like the warm rain of the Hawaiian islands.

Also the realization has hit that you start Kindergarten in the fall. No messing around, no being late to school anymore, a big school with lots of older kids, and my sweet little big girl is going to be more big than little. I think you're more ready than we are. We're going to try the SF Public School system, grateful for the break of paying $1000 a month, and see how it goes. We're also both going to take on full time jobs, and see how that goes as well. The last few years Daddy and I have been working more part time than full time, and now it's time to gather up our resources and get to work.

I'm a little scared, a little nervous, but excitement colors the darkness of fear. This morning I felt overwhelmed, with the massive amount of work ahead of me at my current job but I read the first section of Walking In This World, and the task at the end suggested doing something creative for someone else.

I knew, with that grain of certainty that is so immense that it was time to write to you.

But now, it's time for work.

I love you, one hundred million,
and that's a lot.
Mommy

Taking the first step, next step

2009-03-24T15:28:00.000-07:00

Soon I'll add something clever and witty or at least a rambling cliche, but for now, you can guess what this is.

love,

Mommy

Tales of discipline and devotion

2009-02-19T17:44:00.000-08:00

Hi sweetie,

My last post was more about what happening with me than with you lately, so this one, my little love, is for you (but someday when you are in college, it will be for me, which Grandma Bear already understands and you will someday...).

Last week I saw that your perfectly white straight teeth were almost perfectly white. Almost, with the exception of two upper molars didn' t look so white anymore. They looked a bit brown, like you'd been hitting the black coffee during the afternoon.

I told you about this, in a way I thought made sense even to someone who is almost five, as "you want to have pretty teeth don't you?" Really what it meant was the days of letting you brush your teeth by yourself were over and it was time for me to step in and assist. Although as some of our studio audience can imagine, you didn't want to play that game. I even threatened, that first night after I saw my negligence, we can do this the hard way or the easy way, and I vote for the easy way.

My vote obviously was not the deciding vote, which is odd, because the hard way involves usually me holding you down in some fashion while I pry your mouth open enough to get the toothbrush to your back molars. Do I even need to say that this involved multiple threats, a couple timeouts, and CPS don't listen, even a spanking.

I hate spankings. Most of the time I feel like it's some caveman like behavior intended to show dominance over someone else. Okay, maybe it's not just for cavemen, but I don' t like it anyway. More than a few screams, yours and mine, and more than a few threats of no TV for the next century, and I got enough of your back teeth brushed to declare a truce. This day I felt like I failed my Mom-test, big time, and somehow it should be easier.

When I picked you up after school that day, you said "I told Tatiana that we were mad at each other last night but not anymore." Fair enough.

Sometimes the biggest challenge as a parent is defining the boundary between lenience and dominance. How much should I let you do, how much is about finding out where the boundaries are and letting you inch over them until I say stop? How much about parenting is negotiating instead of dominating? I don't know these answers, I suppose they are too experiential and subjective for a glib response.

But what I do know is two days later I passed the Mom test with flying colors. Imagine this: Friday, day before Valentine's day, and I can't even say it slipped my mind because that would be the equivalent to a mile long stretch of black ice and I skidded for that whole mile stretch rather than a comic banana peel slip. Anyway, nobody in our household remembered that it was pajama day in your preschool, especially not when I was urging you to pick out the shirt and leggings to go on under your school uniform jumper a little bit faster. I didn't have one thing on my mind to distract me, I had a whole herd and it was about to catch up to me.

We walk into your classroom, a bit late, and all twenty kids simultaneously shout "you aren't wearing pajamas!!!" Ugh. I look at one of your teachers, hanging out in a white robe, and say "I'll be back." At that precise moment I am grateful I'm not working and that I could go back home. I ask you quickly, which pajamas you want. No hesitation: Kitty cat pajamas.

There is no dillying or dallying as I drive the couple miles return trip. When I return you are seated at the table with your pint sized friends, who see me first and squeal my arrival.

We duck into the back of the room and swap clothes. Your eyes open wide, you declare:

"MOMMY YOU'RE THE BEST!"
And throw your arms around me for a hug that lasts at least 90 seconds.

Thanks love, I needed that.
Mommy

Two Arm One Leg Wave

2009-02-16T16:52:00.000-08:00

Read when you're sixteen, again when you're thirty

2009-02-15T16:28:00.001-08:00

Hi sweetie,

I received an email from an old friend on Friday saying that he was looking for something inspirational, needed something for the particular mood or moment, and found he'd bookmarked this blog, these letters I write to you and the world. I'm going to paraphrase what he said, although reading the actual email is only a TAB away. He wrote that he read these letters about a mother that loves her daughter and how they were full of rich and amusing details and brought him up from the place of being down.

I needed to see that message, right then, at that moment when I felt like the world was crashing down, my familiar world being destroyed albeit to create something new. I needed to see that my writing made a difference to someone, that I make a difference to someone.

It's so hard to let go of what isn't working, especially when what wasn't working had a regular paycheck. We're going through a lot of transition in the household these days, my 18 month contract gig and I parted officially last week. Was this your choice or theirs, a friend asked recently. I tell an elaborate story full of drama, but really, it's mutual. I was done, they were done with paying me to work for them. I feel like I've told the story so many times that the amusing part of the drama has dissipated leaving nothing really of interest except a few measly details. It involved time, and money, and egos all around.

So it's gone. Adios. Sayonara. So long and thanks for all the fish. I'm doing my best to breathe life into my yoga company, breathe more life, more energy, more me. It's doing well though building a company, running a company are intensely creative activities and require more attention than a newborn baby. I wonder if all that I go through now will catapult you forward into your destiny, beyond what I've already accomplished. WHEN I create a wildly successful company, one that makes a difference to those it touches, does that give you a more solid platform to move from, move beyond into your own missteps rather than ones that stopped me?

Ah, we shall see. I often think it's a child's destiny to go beyond where her parents stopped, either by choice or chance. See, my love, I want an unusual life. I stopped wanting to be an 8-5 employee in 2001 when the towers fell and I was laid off from my last real full time job. I wanted to forge my own path, create my own way, be a contractor but not let someone else have that much control over my time for the sake of money. I'm not lazy, I like working, but I like working at an office a lot less than 40 hours a week. All the drama and chaos and personality headbutting and chauvenists and glass ceilings. Argh. It's enough to give me a headache imagining it, remembering it.

So really, my job and I parted ways because I didn't want to be glued to a desk and an office and a job 40-50 hours a week for a regular paycheck. I saw I was capable of doing a job given to a VP, but didn't want that job. Is that bad? You decide, you, my sweetie and our studio audience. I have a dozen crazy ideas in my head, I want to hire instructors to teach classes through my company, be the facilitator, the instrument through which yoga happens. I want to teach a bit, and play with formats involving writing and movement. I ponder whether I want to go back into the world of high technology, it's still there, but heaven it interests me as much as a mismatched pair of socks. I'm afraid I'd get stuck doing what I hate, the day to day support that sucks the life out of me.

Okay, now I'm being dramatic, but seriously that's what gets under my nails and makes me bite people with problems I don't want to solve.

So we're in a period of transition in the house, as well as in transition in your room as it's slowly coming into focus with new paint, new window, patching and repairing around where the old closet door was and the new closet is. Your bed has been downstairs for a while now, but soon, I'm hoping one more week soon, it will be back together.

I'm also hoping that in what's left of February, I figure out with some clear picture of what is next for my career. It may seem odd that I'm writing this to you, although you're a bit less than 5 years old, and won't read this for a few more years, but perhaps what I want to say is that I bet everyone goes through this life angst, everyone at some point says what the heck am I doing and is this it? Is my life really only about going to work and coming home and picking up kids and making dinner and going to bed and doing it all over again except on weekends the rules are suspended except if work emergencies supersede any plans that may involve fun?

I'm sure it's not me, as much as I'm sure one day you may ask this question as well. Planning for that one day, just know you are not alone, but you are among a few if you do something different.

I love you
One million,
Mommy

Merry Christmas 2008

2008-12-24T11:03:00.001-08:00

Hi sweetie,

Wow! A few months have passed since my last letter, and predictably some things have changed but mostly life is the same.

This was the first year you enthusiastically wanted to decorate a Christmas tree. Daddy & I postponed the tree purchase until a week before Christmas, when we drove down to the tree place and you & I walked around in search of the perfect small tree for our small living room. You did great, picking out a four foot tree that slid in perfectly between our TV and the front door. Daddy and I had agonized a bit over how to put the tree by the window and where we'd have to move the TV and re-wire the cable, but alas, the worrying was in vain.

You love putting ornaments on the tree, but not as much as you like wrapping presents. You like finding things to wrap, even if you've played with that thing for days already. This morning you wrapped a travel toothbrush we got last weekend, that you used this morning to brush your teeth. You also wanted to wrap a present you got last weekend from Papa and Deb-Deb for Mommy Rabbit.

We haven't pushed the idea of Santa, and I'm on the fence whether we ought to create and propagate the idea that there's this guy who makes toys and delivers them by chimney every year based on whether you've been good or bad. There are parts of the Santa tale I like, and some I don't, especially the part that feeds holiday compulsory spending and the rampant consumerism that is plaguing our country's economy right about now.

That's a little heavy for four and a half years old though, mostly I don't want you to plunge unconsciously into the "what am I getting for Christmas" attitude I see so much. That you make a list and get what's on it because that's what you're being fed by media as what should happen for Christmas.

But to walk out of the darkness of the politics of spending and into the light of the season, the light that is family, friends, helping others, and rejoicing in what we have. Among all of the financial turmoil, we have a home, we have each other, we have enough money for right now, and although life isn't perfect and Christmas has been usurped by large corporations selling products, I still go Christmas shopping and look for small things, small, thoughtful, inexpensive gifts for others around me. If anything, it's a good time to acknowledge those who matter to me.

Today I'm grateful that a trip to Target with you doesn't involve a crying fit around the toy section on what you want, what you say you have to have, and Conejito is still your favorite toy of them all.

love always,
one hundred thousand,
Mommy

And a picture for fun

2008-09-04T16:47:00.000-07:00

Update

2008-09-04T16:30:00.000-07:00

Hi Sweetie,

A dozen times a week I notice something you say or do and think I want to write about it here, now, before you stop saying and doing such wonderful spontaneous Ava-things. But alas, I'm human and bogged down by the limitations of physical time and space and sometimes I write them down but not always.

You started in the big big girl pre-K class at your school a couple weeks ago. New teachers that don't adore you on sight (yet) but most of the same friends as your last class. Along with the move to the new class there are no longer three teachers 'fighting' to be the chosen one to hold you momentarily as I walk away. Momentarily, because you run to the windows to give your trademark two arm one leg wave, which I gleefully return, not concerned in the slightest at decorum or propriety of a grown woman looking silly.

Yesterday we saw a picture of a caterpillar in one of your books and you told me, quite insistently, that a caterpillar goes into a racoon to become a butterfly. You were so sincere, I really didn't want to tell you that it's a 'cocoon' not a 'racoon' but I absolutely loved it.

Other Ava-quotes from a couple weeks ago:

"Mommy, when I grow up bigger like you I could hold a cat. A little cat."

You: "Mommy, baby rabbit doesn't want to go to sleep."
Me: "Maybe she's not tired."
You: "Yes she is!"

"Do you want to do the shaking all over dance?"
Yes, absolutely, yes. How would I not want to do the shaking all over dance?

Speaking of dancing, for a couple weeks you originated a "Sun Dance" that was a flowing yoga-ish modern expressionist dance with waving arms and body. Absolutely beautifully hilarious, especially with the serious look on your face.

Alas, I'm hit by that time/space crunch and need to go fetch you from school.

I love you,
one hundred thousand one hundred thousand
(and that's A LOT)

Mommy

I love you game

2008-05-17T21:19:00.000-07:00

Me: I love you
You: I love you too
Me: I love you three
You: I love you four
Me: I love you five
You: I love you six
Me: I love you seven
You: I love you eight
Me: I love you nine
You: I love you ten
Me: I love you eleven
You: I love you twelve
Me: I love you thirteen
You: I love you fourteen
Me: I love you fifteen
You: I love you one
Me: ?
You: You have to say I love you two!
Me: I love you two
You: I love you three
Me: I love you five hundred and eighty seven
You: I love you one hundred and one
Me: That's a LOT!
You: I love you hundred and puppy.
Me: I love you one hundred and lion.
You: I love you one hundred and your hair.
Me: I love you one hundred and your feet.
You: I love you envelope in the car.
Me: Laughing

My sweetie, you are all over the board this week with a tantrum every other hour over something that nobody can predict. Despite the tantrums, the mood swings, the stubbornness, the fixation on getting what you want and screaming about it,

I love you one billion and three.

Party of Two

2008-04-27T12:06:00.000-07:00

Four years old

2008-04-11T15:33:00.000-07:00

Hi my sweetie,

Last weekend you became four years old. Yes, it took 365 days between three to reach four, and 4 x 365 days to reach four from the day I gave birth to you, but as all parents seem to say, it sure went fast.

You are quite the manifesting delight! You asked Daddy a couple months ago if we could go to Disneyland for your birthday. He said yes. What can only be a testament to your manifesting powers, was that we were at Disneyland on exactly your birthday, which fell on a Saturday this year.

When I asked you "what do you want to do at Disneyland?" you replied, "I want to play games and win tickets and have a parade." When Daddy asked you "what does Disneyland look like?" you replied "triangles and squares." So I'm not sure you knew what delights and surprises awaited you at the happiest place on earth, but the Disney marketing folks call it that for a reason ...

When we walked up to buy our tickets, Daddy told the ticket booth attendant it was your birthday and they presented you with a big round button exclaiming "Happy Birthday Ava" (okay, they wrote in the AVA with permanent marker, but still!), and said if we went to Town Hall you could hear your birthday message. We dutifully toddled along to Town Hall, sat you on the counter near a big old-fashioned phone where you were told happy birthday by none other than ... Goofy! "It was Goofy," you told us, "he said Happy Birthday!"

What a brilliant start to a wonderful day. We all got hats, including Daddy's peter pan and Jacque's minnie mouse. Mine was a gift from Auntie Brie - one I'd wanted since our trip to Mexico in November when I gazed jealously at hers ... we rode rides, we played games, didn't win many tickets, but your favorite ride, you tell others now, was the ROCKET CARS! Yes, you say it loud and exclamatory every time! Yes, that's right, Buzz Lightyear's Astro Blaster cars were your favorite ride of the day, or perhaps the most memorable.

My sweetie, you are a wonderful delightful sometimes stubborn but altogether lovable girl. you talk and talk and talk and if I'm not listening to your satisfaction, say louder "Mommy I'M TALKING TO YOU." I'm slowly patiently teaching you about interrupting people when they're talking, but as with most parental lessons, feel like I need to clean up my act first.

Sometimes you don't want to go to school. I laugh, Daddy laughs, and we say to nobody in particular that you are of course the first child to ever say that in the history of modern education. So then I tell you that you can go to work and fix computers and I will go to school and play with your friends and paint and play with playdoh and play on the playground. You then shake your head, predictably, and say "No, I am going to school and you are going to work!"

I also love it when you ask "Why?" You're reaching the age when you ask "Why?" frequently, and a good friend who is also a parent said his son does this a lot so I shared my secret for reducing frustration. I may answer "Why?" if I know, but if I don't know, then I say "I don't know, what do you think?" I love, love, love to hear the variety of answers you deduce. Your favorite, of late, is to ask "Mommy (Daddy), Why do tigers have stripes?" Daddy responded the first time with "Because if they had spots they'd be leopards." So now if I say "I don't know, why do you think?" you respond with "Because if they had spots they'd be leopards or baby elephants or mommy or daddy elephants." Most amusingly, a few weeks ago we saw a tiger presentation at Marine World and Daddy said a bit too loud "Why do tigers have stripes?" and the tiger trainer, standing next to a very large tiger, responded "so they can be well camouflaged in the jungles where they live." Daddy looked a trifle embarrassed and said he wasn't really looking for an answer.

What else can I tell you about you at four? One of our (mine and yours, but definitely not Daddy's) favorite meals is ... noodles and tofu and carrots. I boil soba noodles and then cut up tofu and a few different types of veggies and throw them into a shallow pot with a bit of water and seven minutes later ... dinner. Yes, my sweet, you ask for tofu by name. You like it even more than me. But being a normal kid, or normal enough, you also love pancakes, french toast, your Nana's tortillas, rice, but not ... beans. I like beans, Daddy likes beans, but you, no way no how, not in a boat not with a goat.

Which brings me to your favorite books of the month ... Chicka Chicka Boom Boom was the running number one favorite we both have memorized but it has been usurped in popularity by Green Eggs and Ham. You just got a new book from Grandma Bear called "It's hard being a bunny" which you also love, and read to your Baby Rabbit last night before bed. Well, to say you "read" it is a slight exaggeration, but you told the story from memory. You read letters, but not words yet. I look on, smile, and mumble to myself how your whole world is going to open up as soon as you read your first word. For now though, I tell you that letters make words and words make sentences and sentences make paragraphs and paragraphs make books.

But now, it's four o'clock and I said I'd pick you up early from school to get a haircut. I may even surprise Daddy and get it cut Dora-short to make our morning grooming rituals easier.

I love you, more than there is water in the ocean.
Mommy

Cherry Blossoms

2008-03-30T10:29:00.000-07:00

San Francisco Zoo

2008-03-05T19:48:00.001-08:00

Yes, these are in chronological order. Always good to end with a smile, before the long walk to the car!

Three letters

2008-02-19T11:48:00.001-08:00

Ski Bunny

2008-02-17T13:12:00.000-08:00

Princess Ava

2008-02-17T12:48:00.000-08:00

Loving what drives me crazy

2008-01-29T21:37:00.000-08:00

Hi my little growing one,

There are a few things on my mind these days. I wish sometimes I collected all the Ava-isms you expound on daily. Like tonight, when we were reading books before bedtime and you said "we don't eat books, only vegetables and fruit" or at other times when you throw your arms around me and say "I love you." Times like these I think for anything I've done not quite up to par as a parent, overall I'm doing well.

Funny thing about people I love, and possibly people you will love in your lifetime. The closer you are to someone, you can find 12 million reasons to love them, but five minutes later you can find 12 million reasons not to love them. Sometimes the reasons are the same, meaning you might love someone today for being social and independent, but tomorrow that might drive you crazy. That's the funny thing about love.

So in any day, the choice is yours. I remember many years ago when I was going through relationship trouble, my Grandma Susie told me that I had to think of the good things about that person. She was right. Finding the good in someone has magical, dynamic power and can move insurmountable mountains. The shift happens first in me, because thinking bad of someone brings me down, and then that gets thrown onto the other person or some bystander or bystanding cat and everything starts to catapult into enemy territory.

So my practice is to choose. It's like yoga for the brain - one of my favorite teacher these days says something along the lines that you can do a pose perfectly but if your brain is bouncing like the ball in Pong (a game I don't expect most to remember) then where is the yoga? But if you're struggling physically in a pose, it's not some kind of ideal, but your brain is calm, that is yoga. I try and often succeed in finding the yoga brain when my asana looks imperfect. Looks aren't everything, and I trust feelings more than looks.

Which brings me to feelings. When my brain is calm, and mostly quiet, that is a good time to trust feelings - good feelings, bad feelings, indifferent feelings. When my brain is crazy, there is no room to listen. I read recently that prayer can be considered my requests to God (or whomever is on duty in the great cumulus cloud in the sky) but meditation is listening to God. I've taken a break from teaching yoga because I want more yoga for me, and I want more meditation, more quiet brain. Quiet brain, I find, is a happy brain. But I was talking about feelings. If, and it's a quite likely if, you're like me, you can feel what others are feeling around you. So sometimes the challenge is in figuring out whether a feeling is mine or I picked it up from someone at work like a gallon of milk at the store on the way home.

Some people will like that you can see through the bullshit and choose to tell the truth even if it's not easy. Some people will be scared to early retirement by this. The latter group usually chooses to stay away from me, which is just fine. Some people like their illusions and delusions; others are ready to shed them like winter clothing. Please remember that just because someone doesn't want to be around you doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you.

Feelings, especially strong ones, are best sorted out, waited on, and waited out until they're not quite so urgent. The urgency of really strong emotions, like the ones that say RUN! Run NOW! well, question those and often do the opposite. I don't mean when you're in a dark garage and you get a funny tingle in the back of your neck or gut ... follow those feelings. I mean the unfounded ones when safety isn't an issue, when really the issue is that fear is trying to take over and when the hardest thing to do is dig in your heels and stay put.

I get that I'm talking rather philosophically and abstractly but hopefully one or two of the tangential messages ring through.

The short version, edited and summarized, is I love you. Sometimes what I love about you (like you want to do things 'all by myself') is exactly what drives me crazy. Sometimes what I love about Daddy is precisely what makes me want to run. When I want to run, I tell myself to stay. I breathe in, I breathe out, I calm down my chaotic brain. I stay put. Sometimes when one of my friends is all bent out of shape about work or relationship or something else, I feel like I'm upset right along with her. These times I ask "Is this (feeling) mine or is it not?" If it's not, I breathe in, breathe out, and find a dozen things I love about my life. Then I breathe love into my heart, warming that place in my chest, and think of someone I know to share that love with. I think of that person until the world shifts and I feel good again.

love,
always,
Mommy

Trick or Treat!

2007-10-31T19:43:00.001-07:00

The afternoon started with a party at your school with Daddy dressed as a nun. Honey, I can tell you, your Daddy is just not like other people. Someday I'll tell you the story of how we met on Halloween five years ago today and he was dressed as a woodland fairy.

We got home and had about an hour before his class would start so he got to work carving the pumpkin I'd scraped out the day before. After 30 minutes, there was a bat carved into the face of the pumpkin. Then he was racing out the door to class.

I thought for sure that my computer class homework would take me all night and we were stuck at home watching Pixar movies. But no, all it took was for the duration of Bug's Life for me to get it done "good enough" and prompting from you even though you had no idea what was in store if we left the house!

So it was your first real trick or treating Halloween. All the lights were off in our 'hood so we headed over to St. Mary's Park, the area known for being easy to walk and trick or treater friendly. Last year we tried this, but started at our friends' house, got invited inside for a drink, and never left! This year with Daddy in class, you and I headed out to see how long our enthusiasm and energy would hold.

We started with one house, you excited, no doubt, and I prepped you to say "Trick or Treat" to get candy. We got up the steps, rang the bell, and a boy about ten answered the door. Stage fright struck and the practiced words wouldn't come out. He thought you looked so cute he gave you four or five mini candy bars anyway!

We went to two more houses, this time you did squeak out the candy getting phrase and everyone thought you were cute beyond words. One house was "too spooky" for you decorated with orange lights, tombstones, and dry ice, so we wrapped up the evening with a visit to Amy and Jack's house. We hung out for a minute and after that I asked if you wanted to go to more houses or home. "I want to go home." Fair enough.

Now you're in the bath tub, I'm typing this blog, and I just need to format my homework and start packing for my cruise in two days!

Happy Halloween, my little Tinker Bell fairy. I love you.

Falling

2007-10-21T13:14:00.000-07:00

It's funny to me, little one, as you're learning more words, how to use the words, how to combine words into new exciting ways, that there are two seasons that are verbs, and two that are nouns.

I've thought about writing to you so much over the last couple months, feeling guilty about not writing, telling myself not to feel guilty, feeling momentarily inspired but nowhere near a computer, feeling uninspired when I am.

Computers are work to me; for many they're a fun tool to learn many things, connect with others, but me, in my line of work, they're work. It's hard sometimes to do more work when I've done work all day.

Your Nana was playing with you all weekend as I escaped with my two wonderful friends down to the Santa Cruz mountains. When you're older, my love, and escape seems impossible, it will be then I'll call you and say "go!" I was reaching a breaking point, where I was so stressed out at the end of the day after giving everything at work, more than I had, and all that was left when I got home was stress and upset at you and Daddy for doing nothing, and this is when there is the need for escape. Perhaps you will become a caretaker like me, I can't say I do or don't wish that on you. It's good taking care of others, but the forgotten one is usually wearing my shoes. I don't know what I'd wish really, except that you remember you. That you put yourself before your manager, your job, your mate, your children, your mother. Your Daddy is pretty good at this, but I get upset because who's taking care of me? Ah wait, that's my job.

Anyway....

You are delightfully, completely, intoxicatingly three. You love the movie Cars and if we let you, it would be on every night. In fact, it was on every night while your Daddy and Nana were watching you. For me, I need a break sometimes. I need days and nights without TV, where you play in your room while I clean up, or you say "we could play peek a boo and hide and seek and stop and go" as if they're all one big sequential game.

You love hide and seek... I count, you hide, and when I get to "ready or not" then you reveal your magnificent hiding space.

You're becoming a bit less shy. The manager at Hobee's still scares you but not like before. Someday you may actually tell her goodbye when we leave, or as you do to others, make the psssbbbttt sound like a hippo.

You love wearing your schooldresses to school. Given your choice your preference is first school dress, second skirt, third and only as an absolute last resort, pants. I suspect it's because you're a ballerina and you know ballerinas don't wear pants onstage.

You have learned how to take your room from clean to disaster in 2.5 minutes. This isn't a good thing. The good thing is that you're pretty good at taking your coat and shoes into your room and not leaving them in the kitchen when we get home. My many requests are paying off!

You love things "like Mommy." Your toenails are painted purple right now, "like Mommy" and you point this out every time your toes are uncovered. Sometimes you want a ponytail "like Mommy" you remember and say aloud frequently that Mommy and Ava are "big girls" and Daddy is a "big boy."

Your favorite plush animals are little rabbit and purple bear. Purple bear loves little rabbit because she's a baby. They each have their own blankets and chaos reigns when we can't find them. One of them always accompanies you to school, and it's usually little rabbit. There are also sister rabbit and mommy rabbit, when little rabbit needs more love.

Your friends at school are Tatiana and Inwoo. When I asked what you did at school each day, you predictably say you played with one of them or both. If I pick you up from school, you're with them playing ballerinas and wearing tulle tutus.

You love to take pictures with your camera, or lacking a camera, build one out of legos and take pictures. I asked once, of a green tower of connected legos, whether it was a castle or a car? "ITS A CAMERA!" you replied, implying, how could I not know that?

I adore you, I love you, more than there is air in the sky, more than there is water in the ocean, more than there is earth on this planet. I love you.

Mommy

Little Einsteins makes kids smarter

2007-07-17T10:41:00.000-07:00

Hi little one,

Yesterday you were watching your latest favorite movie, the Little Einstein's HUGE Adventure, and when the little caterpillar climbed up the tree and made his cocoon I said, "Look, he's in a sleeping bag!"

You replied, with the wisdom of a three year old,

"No, it's not a sleeping bag, it's a metamorphosis!"

I stand, stunned, corrected.

love,
your mommy
who's intelligence pales in comparison to yours

Time

2007-07-09T16:15:00.000-07:00

Hi my little love,

I just noticed that it was two years ago this month that I started this blog for us, and as I began reading the first posting July 2005, I was deeply grateful that I wrote those words, so much so, that I want to write more words now.

You are such a big girl, so big that when Daddy teases you and says you're a baby, you object, saying "NO I'm a BIG GIRL!" Even recently you've abandoned our traditional naked baby dance/naked jumping dance before taking a bath for the one legged yoga dancer/flamingo pose.

You love bath time, to be sure, and sometimes you convince me to join you so I can add more hot water and make it go in circles to warm up the cooler water. You like to do things, like wash, "all by yourself" and I do wonder where you learned that phrase.

You know all of your numbers up to twenty in English and Spanish, you can recognize all of them up to 9 (the 1 and 0 together still don't make ten). You know all your letters by sight although occasionally trip over G and Q. You know all your colors in English and some in Spanish. You say "ayudame" for help and "mariposa" for butterfly. You understood your teachers at your Spanish school with "no problemo" after a month.

You love your plush animals...Doggie is your predictable favorite, and even has his own blanket - the white one with yellow ducks. Last night he couldn't go to bed, or you either, until we found his blanket. Little rabbit had to have her blanket too, and you had to have yours. Then we laid down in "Mommy and Daddy's bed" because Daddy was away and you said I could sleep with Rabbit and you would sleep with Doggie.

Sometimes I'll ask you do do something, like put your coat on your bed, and to my shock you do it! Other times you throw your shoes on the ground and tell me to pick them up. This is only predictable because you're three.

You love Mater from the movie Cars, and love it when Daddy "does like Mater" and winks, saying "I'm keeping my eye on you."

And on the fourth of July when we were swimming at our friends' house in San Jose, you decided you wanted to jump in the pool. You had the super-cool water wings on your arms and you walked past the side of the pool right onto the diving board. Yep, your first jump into the great big swimming pool was from there, into Daddy's waiting arm (the other was holding onto the side - you were in the deep end!).

But it's time for me to go...for now.

I love you,
more than there is water in the ocean,
more than there is blue in the sky.

Mommy

Thank you notes

2007-07-09T16:05:00.000-07:00

It says:
Thanks Grandma Bear!
I love my school dresses and
wear them all the time.

Love,
Ava

Picture speaks for itself

2007-06-17T09:17:00.001-07:00

A great compliment

2007-06-16T16:08:00.001-07:00

A few days ago Daddy, you, and I were watching "The Lakehouse" on video and in one scene you looked at Sandra Bullock and said "Look! Mommy is on TV!"

Thanks honey!

Happy

2007-06-11T20:57:00.000-07:00

Conversation, from two minutes ago:

Me: We have to go to bed early tonight because tomorrow we're going to go see a woman who hugs people and makes them happy.

You: Mommy, can I hug you?

Me: Yes, of course, yes.
(My heart melting into a sloppy puddle.)

You: So you can be happy.

Tears come into my eyes and I know I'm the luckiest mommy in the world.

A bit about life and sadness

2007-06-06T17:44:00.000-07:00

Hi honey,

You may know this already, but there are days where running and hiding seem like a really good idea. Today is one of those days for me.

Yesterday I found out that the man who founded and funded my small start-up like company has a terminal brain disease. I find irony in writing 'terminal,' because life by nature is terminal, it always has an ending, the question is always, when, never if. The harder part to swallow is that he is believed to have less than a year remaining of his life sentence, if you will, and during the next year he will likely suffer from some really bad symptoms including big time memory loss, dementia, and hallucinations. Then to top that off he has a wife and three young children, ages 8, 6, and almost 3. The good side, if there can be one, is that he has a good amount of money and access to the best health care money can buy.

When I first heard, my response was "I'm in shock, and I'm sad." I mean, I know him. I've talked to him a number of times and even helped with the computers in his home. I've met his kids, talked to his wife, and when I start thinking what do you do, what do you say to those precious young kids to say that Daddy is not going to be around much longer, and in the meantime, he's going to be hard to be around. How do you package up and deliver that message? There aren't enough roses in the world to make that message smell good.

Being a dabbler in Indian religion this has me thinking about karma and this life he's living now. I wonder what arrangement he had with those in charge upstairs that he would stockpile a good amount of money, start a family late in life, and then possibly die, leaving them much earlier than intended. Did he really agree to that? What was his mission for this incarnation and did he succeed? More on this another day, it's too big of a tangent for me to take on right now.

But I also believe in miracles. I believe in the gigantic kind of miracles, like somehow a cure will be discovered or that a switch will flip from off to on and he'll be okay. Those are wonderful kind of miracles, but I also believe in smaller, more obscure miracles. Like this morning when I walked outside to see if blue sky meant warm temperature (it didn't, really) and right at that exact moment a beautiful "V" of Canadian geese flew overhead, honking. Geese flying over my San Francisco house is a miracle in my book. Or when sunlight hits the edge of the diamond on my new ring and sends rainbow spots all over the wall. Sure, I love big miracles, but it's the little ones that I count on to get me through sadness, remorse, and just plain bad days.

I believe that is why, when I knew I would send this family a card but had no idea what to say, I called my friend Becky who is so good at sending cards at all times, good and bad, she said "why don't you say a prayer and then write the answer?" I did, and the answer came this next morning as I was steaming the wrinkles out of my linen shirt. Miracles, what I want to pray for is miracles.

So I wrote on the inside of the card:

Dear _____ and _____,

Thinking of you
&
Praying for miracles large and small.

kindly,
Julie

I dropped the card into the wide mouth of the big blue mailbox, but the sadness remains. I came home early and curled into restorative child's pose, and the sadness remains. I made a blackberry turnover and gobbled it down, and the sadness remains. I picked you up from school, and the sadness remains. I want to run and hide from the sadness, but I can't outrun sadness. Perhaps that's why I wrote before that running and hiding seem like a good idea, but they aren't. The reason is that it's impossible to outrun and hide from sadness, it knows all the good hiding spots already. All I can do is sit still with the sadness, let it come as it will, as an ache in my shoulders, a lump in my throat, and a tear in the corner of my eye. I won't swallow it down and create my own dis-ease. I will breathe the life I have in deep, hungry, greedy gulps and dance with you madly on the hardwood floor.

Someday I trust this will make sense; someday these words will have meaning for you. As for now, know I love you, and you will always feel my presence when you wish. Perhaps that is the answer to my karma question. Perhaps it's about trusting that those we love are always accessible, whether they have bodies or not.

Yucky chicken for the piggies

2007-06-02T11:16:00.000-07:00

This quote, direct from your cute three year old mouth, deserves to be blogged immediately:

"Mommy! I'm making yucky chicken for the piggies!"

Me: "Why?"

"Because he's old!"

You said this while watching Johnny and the Sprites, so I don't know if there's a connection, but nonetheless, if I had any idea of the relevance, I bet I could solve all the mysteries of the universe.

My big little girl

2007-05-02T14:28:00.000-07:00

Three

2007-04-05T15:56:00.000-07:00

My little one, you are now three years old. We hosted a wonderful birthday party for you on Sunday with forty people - half of them kids - and you shared all of your toys easily. There were times during the three hour fiesta where you wanted me to hide out with you in an empty room and I understood, all too well, that sometimes you just want a break from the people.

What passes through my mind over and over is that three years ago I was resting in a hospital room with you in a hospital bassinet by my side. We were both healthy, both resting after a birth that wasn't too bad, everything considered, but what was so amazing was that after 41 -1/2 weeks of being on the inside, you were suddenly on the outside.

The first thing to figure out was nursing, which was easy enough after my milk supply arrived, and since then we've figured out so many things together that I easily loose track. You've taught me so much, my little love, about how to be a good mom, how to care for you, and that when I don't care for myself caring for you becomes challenging. You've taught me about love, not the fairy tail romance kind that new lovers project, but the lasting unconditional kind. I love you at all times, not just when you behave in a way that pleases me and not just when I'm in a good mood and have slept enough. I love you in all the crabby times, in all the moody times, in all the tantrum times. I love you for being so gosh darn smart it astounds me and I love you for those moments when you say "I'm the baby girl" and you want me to hold you like an infant.

I love you when you have delightfully appropriate funny responses to normal questions, like at your party when Papa asked you what time it was since you were wearing a watch and you responded, "It's time for my birthday party!"

I love you when it's time to go to bed and I say we'll read one book and you say "two books," and I acquiesce. I love you when you play quietly in your room and I love you when you jump high on your new birthday trampoline. I love you even when you draw on the walls, which fortunately hasn't happened in a while, and I love you when you cry to try and get your way.

I love when you say that I'm going to yoga because the babies are on the inside because somehow you know I teach prenatal yoga. I love when you spontaneously jump into Ava-warrior pose or downward dog. I love your virasana and your baddha konasana and may my own poses be someday as open as yours!

I love when you have to give me a "hug and a kissie" before you leave with Daddy for school and I love you when you cry at the door because you don't want to leave me.

I love you so much, my little one, that it makes it that much easier to love others more than before.

I loved you when you were a baby on the inside, and even more now that you have three years on the outside.

Love, forever,
your mommy

Thirty-five months

2007-03-06T15:51:00.000-08:00

Wow. You are one month away from being three years old. Already when I ask, "Ava, how old are you?" you respond "Three." Close enough for horse shoes and birthdays.

I was thinking such a strange thought a moment ago, after I wondered what I was going to do with the next seven minutes before I leave to teach a prenatal yoga class. I thought, what if today is the day. I mean the day, my last day in this body. Such a strange thought, but I then realized what I would want to do is write to you again in this blog, so that if by chance this was the day, my words to you would be saved.

It's probably not the day, for my friends and family members to restrain their panic and such, it's just a thought, really, that what if today was the day, what would you want to do?

But back to you, my little love, little miss, growing up into a big little girl!

You're on the road to toilet training. On Saturday we were diaper-free all day, although I should have followed my instincts and put one on you before your nap. Instead I washed sheets, but no worries. Then you were sick Sunday and Monday with a pesky virus that zapped your energy so those were diaper days too. But soon we'll go back to the big girl underwear adventure. You picked out more big girl underwear at the store the other day, ones with Curious George. I thought how funny it is that there really are monkeys on your butt and that it's perfectly acceptable, because you're three.

Speaking of clothes, you regularly pick out your own pajamas and clothes for the day at my prompting. The pajamas are always matching, the clothes nearly always. You love hats. You love hoods. You love hoods on sweatshirts so much that you won't let me leave the house without a hood on my head, even when it's sunny. You won't let Daddy leave the house unless he's wearing a jacket. "You forgot a jacket, Daddy," you'll say, and he'll tell you he didn't forget one, that he's warm enough, but then he'll capitulate to your demands and go get one.

But now, some words from you:

"Hey! That's a moon right there!" you exclaimed the other evening, and I wondered if there was a future for you at NASA.

"Stay right there; I'll be right back!"
I dared not move a muscle for fear I'd be banished for a time out.

"The grasshoppers are coming! The grasshoppers are not going to drink my tea."
Maybe you've watched Bug's Life one too many times.

"Please and yes."
Politeness, followed by the required response, works like a charm.

"Daddy, it's pancake time."
You've become my town crier and breakfast announcer, and Daddy always responds to you.

But now, my seven minutes are up, and it's time to teach yoga to mommys with babies inside.

I love you, now and forever,
Mommy
p.s. to Grandma Bear, I'll post pictures soon!

My big little girl

2007-01-28T15:27:00.000-08:00

When you have a child, time passes uniquely. The minutes and hours can stretch out like afternoon shadows on autumn days but the months and years speed like a rocket heading for space.

So go my postings, and intentions to post.

You have so much to say these days, so many words, so many ideas. You have opinions, strong opinions of what you want to do when. You remember if I promised earlier we'd go to the aquarium to see the fish. You know how to use "you" and "me" appropriately so I no longer need to speak of myself in third person as in "Mommy wants more tea."

You love to pretend. You pretend to have tea, you pretend your plush animals are sleeping. You like to make sure they are covered in blankets to keep warm, I suppose like I do to you. You like to do things "like mommy." The other day you were very upset that you were wearing overalls and I was wearing yoga pants. You wanted to wear yoga pants "like mommy" so Daddy came up with a fabulous idea - that Mommy would wear overalls too (which you say as "o-vey-alls"). You love to do things and be like mommy or daddy. You love it even more when we do things "like Ava." If the highest form of flattery is imitation, I am abundantly flattered.

You don't like so much to sit in your booster seat at the dinner table and want to sit in your own chair. You love oatmeal best of all for breakfast, and often other times in the day if you can get away with it. I figure if you always ask for oatmeal, but don't ask for cheetos or ice cream, I'm doing something right.

You often announce that you're "going to the store to get food" or "going to Trader Joe's." We ask you "what kind of food?" and you respond (usually) with "oatmeal and cranberries and walnuts" - our typical accompaniment.

You mostly listen when I ask you to stay close to Mommy in traffic, you mostly listen when it's time to go to bed, you mostly listen when I want kissies and hugs because I'm leaving to go to work or you to school. I figure since you're nearly three years old that mostly is good enough. I'd get spoiled by perfection anyway.

You don't mind the nose plunger (aka booger puller) to clear your congested nostrils, and often request the "nose thingy" and want to do it yourself. I have to admit I was afraid to use this on you when you were a baby, but had I known I would have tried it first!

You are somewhat toilet trained, partly because of my laziness and partly your willingness. I'm getting better about asking you if you need to "go pee-pee" and you're getting better about going on your own to the "big toilet" while I sing the household famous "waiting for the pee-pee" song.

You raise your cup of milk and say "cheers;" you are learning to assemble puzzles; you love to sing the Buenos Dias song from your Spanish School. You've finished at your old school and are immersed in your new one. It was a bittersweet transition, for me, not really for you, as I realized my little girl is getting big and going to school that is not a co-op, that I'm not such a big part of anymore.

I can understand why siblings are conceived and born around the time a firstborn is three. You don't need me so much but want me as a playmate. You're entertained by kids your own age as much as me, if not more. I teach a mom and baby yoga class once a week and I'm astounded when I hold an infant of six weeks and how beautiful, dependent, and fragile they are. You were that small, I was that mom, and that was nearly three years ago.

But no siblings for you, Daddy and I believe one is enough, which means there's enough of Mommy and Daddy so that you know you're loved. Mommy is busy with her new yoga business, Daddy is busy studying, and we have enough time and love right now. We are a triad, complete.

Diki-diki da-da and more Ava quotes

2006-11-18T11:51:00.000-08:00

Due not to popular demand, but more because I wrote these down so I'd remember, I have more to add after your 31-month post.

"Diki-diki-da-da"
You sing this often, without provocation, as you are going about your daily toddler routine. Sometimes I spontaneously sing it and it makes you laugh outrageously, perhaps because I am speaking to you in your language, even if I don't have a tiny clue as to what it means.

"Go to the snow and see Grandma Bear"
I told you yesterday that we have three more days before we go to the snow, "Boots!" you replied, meaning your brand new snow boots had better be coming too or there would be one upset toddler. Then you told Daddy "go to the snow and see Grandma Bear!"

"Here comes Ava!"
I don't know where this came from, this declaration that you're coming down the stairs into the family room, or into the house, but you say this frequently and it always makes me grin.

"The mommys has to do it"
This one is going to get me into trouble soon, because when Daddy tries to help you do something...anything...from changing your diaper to putting you in your car seat and I'm around, you respond with..."the mommys has to do it" Someday soon, honey, mommy is going to be tired!

"Yay, I did it!"
I'm not sure what you did, but you definitely did IT!

love,
Mommy

Thirty one months, but who's counting?

2006-11-15T16:33:00.000-08:00

Hi little one,

Where do I begin to tell the story of my little girl who is getting bigger and smarter by the day? I begin with your words, and see where they lead me.

"Stop please moving cars!"
...you said last week as we were crossing the street. I had decided we needed to get out of the house at 5PM on a Sunday so we went for a walk along Cortland, the main street of Bernal Hill. Daddy and I have been encouraging you to look for 'moving cars' for a while now before you cross the street, and I was infinitely pleased that although you'd run ahead at each block, you'd wait for me at the curb to hold your hand as you crossed.

"Mommy's tea, where are you?"
you called to my tea the other day, that I had made earlier and couldn't find on any flat surface in the whole house. "Ava, have you seen Mommy's tea?" I asked. To which you responded the above. I finally found my tea in the microwave, where I'd reheated it and left it for evaporation, I suppose.

"I need Moose and Rabbit and Donkey!"
Before you go to bed, or even lie down to watch baby einstein on the TV in my room, you gather around you the likes of one moose (featured on here frequently), one white rabbit, and a purple donkey that you insist says 'woof' and not 'hee-haw'. This is your tribe of friends, constant members of your ongoing tea party. Speaking of...

"I need to have a tea party!"
There are a few things that made me laugh in this exclamation of yours a couple days ago...okay, maybe one. That you NEED to have a tea party. Need and tea party have never been together in a sentence in my speech, but hey, I can understand. I need lots of things that don't make sense to anyone else! And who attended your tea party, but Moose and Rabbit and Donkey arranged fabulously around your tea set!

"Go to the snow, I need to go to the snow!"
After we bought you cute snow boots for our upcoming trip to visit Grandma Bear, you thought snow was right around the corner. Sorry honey!

"Please, I'm saying please!"
I wish I could remember what you were asking for specifically, but not only are your "please-s" and "thank you-s" becoming more prevalent, the fact that you reiterated your please with "I'm saying please" makes me a card-carrying member of the Mothers-of-Smart-Daughters club.

I love you honey, happy 31 months in this adorable body.
Mommy

But what does Ava look like now?

2006-10-23T22:12:00.000-07:00

Ava looks like this when she's vacuuming.

Ava looks like this when she's typing on Mommy's computer while shouting the ABC song.

Ava looks like this when she's in a field of pumpkins with Moose.

How to care for your moose part 2 & 3

2006-10-06T12:42:00.000-07:00

Part 2:
Make sure moose is properly seated in high chair and feed assorted colors of crayons

Part 3:
When moose is tired of eating crayons, make sure he has a proper seat at the table and gets a serving of french toast and yogurt.

The actual conversation this morning after you diapered and seated moose at the table:
"Moose wants french toast."
"Okay, does moose want a pink plate?"
"Pink plate."
"Moose needs fork."
Pause.
"Moose needs yogurt."

If you ever doubt I love you, please read this post.

Thirty Months (or two and a half years)

2006-10-06T06:27:00.000-07:00

Hi sweet girl,

You are officially two and a half years old, not almost two and a half, and old enough to not be just two anymore. Halves will become more important when you're in school but before you're 18. After that it's just not so important and sometimes you'll even forget how old you are. I went a whole year once thinking I was a year older.

But alas, I've stopped aging you in months, like a fine wine, you have graduated from months to years and fractions. You could have been two and quarter and you will be two and three quarter years old, but not twenty nine months or thirty four months.

You've graduated from the toddler bed you didn't sleep in to the full size murphy bed that has been at your nana's house since you were born. Suddenly you want to sleep in Ava's bed, likely because there is enough room for Mommy to lay down with you until you fall asleep. Some nights Mommy hops beds depending on who gives me more room - you or Daddy.

You are up to so many things these days, and even though it's 6:30AM you woke up early anyway and now you're sitting on my lap as I type. You're not awake enough to try and take over the keyboard but you likely will soon so I have to type fast.

"Mommy, what's that?" you ask me often, usually when you know what something is.
"I don't know Ava, what's that?" I respond.
"Kitty cat!"
"Yes, that's a kitty cat!"

We have lots of these conversations throughout the day.

I ask you often how many birds, how many cheerios, how many toys, and it doesn't matter how many there actually are, you count "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten" Sometimes you count up to eighteen, skipping a teen or two.

You have officially begun toilet training - you have gone pee pee in the big toilet (with your little toilet seat insert) three times. Three times we've actually heard pee pee hitting the water with a small but astounding, accomplished splash. The first time we weren't having such a good afternoon but at the sound of that I could have done cartwheels. Often you'll just sit there, and I'll ask, "Ava, where's the pee pee?"

You'll smile and say "no pee pee!" but you'll reach for toilet paper anyway and wipe.

You're starting to remember what happened a few hours ago or even the day before. We were camping over Labor Day and a tiny mouse scurried through our campground. "Mommy, I saw the mouse." I heard over and over again, especially in the tent where I was trying to get you to take a nap.

You like to grab your baby doll or one of your stuffed animals and lay a blanket over it on the kitchen floor. You lay down next to it and ask for a blankey. "Going night Mommy, I'm going night night."

Pronouns. There is now an I in your vocabulary, and a me, although I'm not sure if there is a you.

You know all of your colors, and pass all of my "what color is that?" quizzes. You're even starting to identify if an object is two colors now, like the frog at the aquarium that was green and black.

But alas, you are awake enough to want to type, and I smell the disaster in your diaper. When I go to change you, you'll say "Holy cow!" Which is exactly what I say when your diaper is a mess because I knew it would be better than if you went around saying "Holy ..." something else.

You are getting big, getting long, running fully into your amusing, delightful, challenging year of being two.

Do you know I love you? I hope so.
Mommy

Mommy & Ava Day

2006-09-16T18:07:00.000-07:00

Hi honey,

You're taking a late nap today and if you're not awake by the time I finish writing I'll plant kisses on your warm flushed cheeks until your eyes flutter open.

Yesterday we had a Mommy and Ava day. Before you were around there used to be Julie days where I would go off on some brilliant adventure near or far, but now, there is you, so there is us, and there are Mommy and Ava days.

I asked you whether you wanted to go to the zoo or to the Discovery museum. Zoo! Zoo! Monkeys! G-affes!

So we went to the zoo. We saw all manner of things animal and bird like, and you greeted each animal in turn
"Hi tiger!"
"Mommy I see the tiger!"
"Bye-bye tiger!"

We rode on the train, shared a ride on a carousel horse, waved at penguins, bears, lions, rhinos, hippos and lots of peacocks. For the first time I didn't bring a stroller and you walked all over the zoo pausing to ride on my shoulders when you wanted to see better.

All in all, a wonderous Mommy and Ava day. Let's plan more.

Twenty nine months

2006-09-12T13:54:00.000-07:00

Hi, my sweet wonderful nearly two and a half year old girl!

Time, you will find when you get older, is something that doesn't stretch quite far enough from when you wake to when you go to sleep. But for now, you don't have to know so much about time.

Where do I begin in the changes over the last two months? You talk, talk, talk all the time talk. You have opinions, you love to wear your kitty cat shirt and orange halloween kitty cat pants. You don't like ponytails in your hair, but will sometimes tolerate it if I put one in while you're distracted. Your food tastes are changing and you even threw out the dreaded words "I don't like that" the other day. Daddy and I, we didn't like those words and they earned you a time out until you were ready to sit at the table and eat your spaghetti.

You are doing great in school, not like you're earning straight A's kind of great as it's pre-preschool and there are no grades, but you've adjusted and play well around the other kids. All the three year olds graduated and you're now the oldest in the troop!

My work schedule is changing as I'm nearly done with my old job and working at my new one, plus starting to teach mom & baby yoga classes. All this so I can have a work life I love and have enough time with you!

Work, you'll find out later after you find out about time, is something necessary, but if you believe it can happen, you can love what you do for work and money.

You can count up to fifteen, although when I ask you how many hands you have, you keep counting right up to fifteen. You know all your colors and get them right about 80% of the time. You like to do yoga, and spontaneously take downward dog or warrior two pose when you hear someone say yoga. At my yoga teacher graduation last weekend you had fun running back and forth from daddy to me during the ceremony. Then later you impressed my yoga friends by showing them your slick yoga moves.

You are two, delightfully, wonderfully, challenginly, two. You still love pancakes, you will often eat broccoli, you never turn down mac & cheese. You say please and thank you regularly to my delight. You are jumping with both feet now and Daddy wants to buy you a trampoline.

I love you, my sweet girl, and I always will.
Mommy

Absence

2006-07-17T20:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Ava,

I miss you.

Last Friday night you got on a plane with Daddy to the Grand Cayman Island via Atlanta with your brand new passport and three days later my heart is heavy. I mean really, the center of my chest is heavy.

Sure, I'm getting good things done. I'm working on the web design for something brand new which is cool, and tomorrow is my birthday and I have lots of fun and friends lined up.

But I miss you.

I was unloading the dishwasher of all things, selecting your small plastic spoons and metal forks, which you also call spoons, and putting them into the cup for your utensils and it hit me. For three days now nobody has called me Mommy or demanded strange things like yogurt or play-doh. Nobody has tried to wedge themselves in the space of the open fridge door because they were hungry and wanted what they wanted not what I was about to cook.

I have had to let the kitty cats in and out all by myself - you've taken over this job now that you can reach the handle of the back door. "Ava," I say, "will you let the kitty cat in?" And you do. This is really cool and always surprises me that you open the door and let the cat in.

Nobody has put their shoes or coat on the couch when I've asked them to put it in their room. Nobody has said "Mommy, want that!" "This?" I ask. "This!" you respond.
Nobody has said "Mommy bed!" when I say it's time for night-night.
Nobody has said "Blue jammas" when I ask which pajamas you want after your bath.
Nobody has said "yoga" and stolen one of my mats and wrapped themselves up in it.
Nobody has grabbed a paper sack from the stash on the side of the fridge and walked to the door saying "Bye Bye Mommy!" These days you reach up to the doorknob like you can actually open it as Daddy and I roll our eyes and laugh.

No naked baby dance, no requests for TV on, no dragging all the toys from your bedroom into the kitchen. Nobody else to bathe, to feed, to kick me in the middle of the night, to comfort, and to be comforted by. No declarations for "EIEIO" when I start singing "Twinkle twinkle little star." No spontaneous ABCs, no counting to twelve (which you did last week and shocked the pants off of me) with only nine blocks. Math, you'll learn that in school along with imaginary numbers.

Nobody to sing Happy Birthday when it's not my birthday and bring out the tower of legos declaring it's a birthday cake. I'm only hoping that Daddy helps you call me tomorrow.

My little one, you are a kazillion miles away in the Caribbean, likely going night-night by now and I wonder if you're asking for Mommy's bed?

I love you, with more love than my heart can hold, and so, I need the whole ocean.
Mommy

Success measured in vegetables

2006-06-27T18:57:00.000-07:00

Ava, you just said words that made me feel like I'm doing something right in my job as a Mom:

"More broccoli."

No, I didn't make you say please.

Euphamisms in the bathroom

2006-06-14T17:11:00.000-07:00

Someday you will probably want to throw me fully dressed into a large, cold, swimming pool for what I'm about to write, but for now, I have to share because it's so cute it's funny.

For the longest time, like three or four months now, you've had a training toilet. No, it's not a potty because I hate that non-word. Okay, so Merriam Webster's online dictionary says this is a word, but that doesn't mean it is a word I like. As a word it sounds condescending, as if a the word toilet is so multi-syllablic or foreign that a toddler can't understand.

In our house we don't use that word, but instead we say "pee pee." This doesn't bug me and I can live with the hypocracy.

Up until the last couple weeks of training toilet ownership, you've used your toilet as a place to sit fully clothed while someone else is using the big toilet. You insist on having a square of toilet paper to wipe the back of your pants, right about where your sacrum is. Then you have to throw your square of paper into the big toilet so you can watch it flush.

But since you've started at school you have a new routine. We ask you now if you want to "go pee pee" and you shreek, delightely, as if this was better than Elmo and Nemo on a joint Saturday morning special "go pee pee! go pee pee!"

Then you want to strip. This would be highly understandable if you just wanted to pull your pants down and your Dora easy up diaper. (Elmo diapers weren't allowed in our house any more once you wore your first Dora.) But alas, you want to take off every shred of clothing to go pee pee on your training toilet.

"Shirt off!" you say authoritatively. "Shoes off! Socks off! Pants off! Diaper off!" until we have a bare naked Ava sitting on her training toilet to go pee pee.

But you don't actually pee. You just sit there grinning, naked, sitting on your royal plastic throne. Someday, I'm certain, going pee pee will actually produce urine, and not just a naked Ava.

Twenty Six Months

2006-06-01T17:11:00.000-07:00

My sweet little girl,

You are blossoming before my eyes. You are on balancing on the teeter totter between baby and little kid. You once spoke in single words but now the words come together in twos and threes. Soon whole complete sentences will parade out of your mouth in your little kid voice and your baby laugh will loose its nasal tone.

You are jumping! Mostly your jumps are upwards for a fraction of an inch and then plummeting onto your bottom, but I did really see you defy gravity and take both feet from the ground then land back on them. Congrats, little one!

I think two is the most fun of all ages - you're independent and dependent; you use words to communicate and I understand a majority of the time. You laugh at me, yourself, and the kitty cats. Daddy and I, we laugh at the things you do.

When I'm leaving and ask for a kiss, I sometimes get a kiss from your lips, but usually you hold out your right palm for me to kiss and then your left palm. No, I have no idea where you got this idea, but I can understand the importance of having redundant kisses.

We started last week at Little People's Workshop, a co-operative parent run pre-pre school. Daddy and I both liked the atmosphere, the parents, and the kids; we knew it was time for you to be around those your own age. I wasn't prepared for the shock of sending you to a place by yourself though! I know you'll be fine, but I'm so used to our routine established over the last year of Mommy, Daddy, Nana shuffle that it's strange to throw a foreign entity into the mix. I'm just scared; scared of what I haven't identified.

I knew you were with my departure if you wave at me and say "bye, bye mommy." I know you were also saying "I'll be okay mom, don't worry about me."

Ah, but I do worry. I try not to worry. I think about many other things so I worry less, but after I gave birth to you the second line in the prophetic motherhood implicit instruction manual was, simply,

You will worry like you have never worried before.

The first line, in case you were wondering, was "You will love like you have never loved before." That's just the way it is.

This morning as I walked into my office I thought of a line from an old 38 Special song, which I will take on as my mantra in progress:

Hold on loosely, but don't let go. If you cling too tightly, you're going to lose control.

It's so hard to know what's right, to trust my instincts, to think before acting instead of reacting. Our moods are so interconnected, I get tired when you're tired; you get crabby when I'm crabby. I guess that's just the way the mother-daughter unbilical tie goes.

With love, worry, and everything in between,
Mommy

These are for Uncle Anthony

2006-05-07T22:15:00.000-07:00

1: Driving the stroller

2: Wait! I hear the phone!

3: I have to take a call

4: Smile for the camera and show off that dirt lipliner!

How to teach a moose to jump

2006-05-07T22:07:00.000-07:00

Step One: crouch down

Step two: bounce back up

And that, moose, is how you jump.

Twenty Five Months

2006-05-02T20:41:00.000-07:00

Oh my gosh, little one, you are growing in all directions! You are taller, yes, but you are smarter too. You keep putting together new words and suprising the pants off of Daddy and me. You have also started speaking in a foreign babble-baby language that is quite fun and endearing. I join in and you think this is hysterical.

Your laughter, well, the cliche is that laughter is the best medicine, and to me your laughter is ambrosia. The other day we were driving somewhere and you said "Car!" so I said "car" - we volleyed "car" back and forth until we both started laughing. I often ask you to say words just because I love hearing your voice. We have a :moving things" game where I say words and you repeat. Car, boat, plane, truck, bike, and ROCKET! We both say ROCKET with such blast-off enthusiasm that it deserves the ill-reputed all caps in the blog.

We also play another car game where I open the mirror on my car visor and say Hi Ava! You mostly respond "Hi Mommy" but sometimes you say "Hi Julie!" I do not know where you learned my name is Julie, but this is quite funny. Daddy heard you the other day and asked, increduously, "did she just call you Julie?"

Someone told me once that by age two you should have about twenty words in your vocabulary. I think you have too many to count. My favorites though are "thank you welcome" and "more please." I also love all of your animal sounds, especially "ribbit" which anyone that is anyone knows is what a frog says.

You have found your one true beloved toy: your moose. Today you wouldn't lie down without Moose and I swear it took us both looking for 30 minutes to find him on the wall near the toilet. We walked around calling "Moose!" and you were earnest in your search for your favorite toy. Someday I knew this would happen, not the Moose adoption, but that I would spend a sizeable chunk of time looking for a toy of some sort. That's just the way parenting goes.

You love watching the Yoga Kids videos I've bought to figure out how to teach yoga to kids. "Watch yoga" are words that get you happy and excited. The first time I the video finished you looked at me and said "more please yoga." Seriously! I'm not making this stuff up!

Your video and TV favorites still are Nemo, Bear and the Big Blue House (which you just call "House" as in "watch house!!!") and Elmo from Sesame Street. You have recently adopted Monsters Inc among your favorite, but you call it "Cookie Monster" because, to you obviously, Sully looks like Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. This week alone I've watched Monsters Inc four times. No matter, I love that movie.

Your awareness has expanded. I know this because you laugh at funny parts on TV, and I mean the bits that I think are funny!

We see bits and pieces of those two year old tantrums, but nothing so big that a good distraction doesn't cure you. You oscillate between fierce independence and Mommy-don't-you-dare-leave-my-sight. I don't wonder about that independence with Daddy and me for parents there's no doubt you got it from both of us.

We are running into the times of the Naked Baby. Yesterday you refused to put on a shirt. After trying every trick I could remember including you choose the shirt and putting the shirt on my own head I let you be while I made lunch for the zoo. I made egg salad sandwiches, cut in triangles (because squares are so last week) and wondered if you would eat egg salad. (Not to skip ahead, but you loved it!) I chatted with Becky while I made egg salad and she gave me suggestions for remedying the shirt aversion. "Have you tried the 'we're going to the ZOO so let's put on a shirt' routine?"

No! I forgot about the subtle diversion with emphasis on Zoo tactic. It worked too!

Today you didn't want to wear any clothes, not even ones you put on yourself, so I let you wander around naked while I took a shower. I figured worst case I'd have to clean up pee but as a side bonus you'd realize that pee comes out between your legs and I could then invite you to use your training toilet. Nope, no pee to clean up and no spontaneous toilet training session either, but after my shower you were willing to wear clothes although you did have to put them on yourself.

A bit about naps, my love. They're good things, not things to be avoided like last week's leftovers. I know you must think you're missing out on something wonderful by not napping, but really, it's not true. Some days you crash hard (like yesterday after a 3 hour walk around the zoo!) and other days you resist until you are a crabby cranky mess. Kitten, even the kitty cats love naps.

Anyway....you are napping now, at 5PM and I wonder if you're calling it a night again. Kate, your favorite babysitter of all times said you just fell asleep before I got home. Maybe this is a little gift from the nap fairy and I can have a precious few moments to myself tonight before Daddy comes home tomorrow morning. We've had a fun week being Single Mom and Ava but I'm glad he's home tomorrow.

I love you sweet girl,
Mommy

How to care for your moose

2006-04-30T09:53:00.000-07:00

Priceless

2006-04-09T08:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we took the plunge. After looking at dozens of plastic kitchens, or not as good wood kitchens, Daddy said I had to see the Pottery Barn Kids kitchen. Originally he wanted to get the stove and the sink, but it's quite a big price tag for a kitchen for a little girl.

So we drove to Corte Madera to look at the kitchen. Daddy's right. There is no way we could buy any other kitchen after seeing this one. We did agree to just get the stove for now, and add the sink in a few more months.

Kids Retro Stove from Pottery Barn Kids: $250

Kids real cookware set from Pottery Barn Kids: $29

Eating our first pretend soup...priceless.

Two

2006-04-07T14:50:00.000-07:00

My little one, Wednesday was your birthday. You are now officially two.

Two has brought a few changes, including a traipse into those dreaded tantrums two-year-olds have made famous. You get upset about strange things, mostly it seems when you ahve an idea in your two year old head that things should be a certain way and then they change. You got upset this morning that I put another pair of pants in the dry cleaning bag and moved toys from the living room into your bedroom. You scream and cry like the world was ending, we ask you what's wrong and you cry louder. This morning that got you a time out in your room with the door shut. Your Daddy swears this doesn't happen when I'm not around and the funny thing is, it doesn't happen often when it's just us. Something smells funny, and it's not a disaster diaper!

Your first time out, for two minutes on the green chair in the living room, came for writing in pen on the living room wall. What's this about anyway? You know you're only supposed to write on paper, but there's now pen circles on one wall, pencil circles on another, and pen slashes on the red couch. Daddy and I shake our heads about the couch, again saying we're glad we bought the $500 couch from IKEA instead of the $2000 couch we really wanted from Room & Board. That and move all the pens so they're out of your reach.

All of the crayons in your reach are washable - thank heaven - although you've taught yourself to peel the wrapper off by biting in the middle so the paper gets wet and tearing it off in the middle. Yes, all of the big fat Ava-designated crayons in the house run around naked.

Crayons aren't the only naked objects; you like to run around naked too when you're not trying to put on your own clothes. The other day you asked for "hep pees" (help please) putting on shorts over your pants. Okay, no problem. Dress in layers right? But then you tried to put on more pants over the pants and the shorts and got frustrated that it just wasn't working out. I guess I could have handed you some 3T pants for the top layer, that would have worked, but instead I suggested that two layers could be enough.

You are getting good at saying "thank you" but since everytime you say "thank you" someone says "you're welcome" that you've decided to help them out and say "thank you welcome." Can you say "thank you"? I ask. You respond, "thank you welcome."

Water. You love, love, love water. You don't love drinking water as much as you like stirring it. You love bathing in it, but mostly you love stirring water (or any liquid) in a cup with whatever utensil you can grab. All utensils are spoons, which is fine for now, because I'm not going to start an arguement with you by calling a fork a fork when clearly, in your mind, it's a spoon.

You know so many words now I'm amazed. You can nearly count to ten by yourself, with prompting from someone who can count to ten. I asked you in the bath the other day how many feet you had and you said, clearly, "Two!" Thinking it was a fluke, I asked you how many hands you had. "Two!" How many heads do you have? That one stumped you for a bit, probably because you couldn't see how many heads you have.

Your hair is finally long enough for pigtails, which I can only master if you're watching TV. I hate to admit how much you love TV. You walk into my bedroom frequently and point at the TV. "TV off!" I know that means "Mommy, why is the TV off?" But I just agree, "Yes, the TV is off, let's go color in your room."

You are starting to drive me crazy, just a little bit, but I still wouldn't trade you for anything.
(For the record, neither would Daddy. We would consider renting you out for a couple days, but then we'd want you back.)

I wonder if someday you'll know how much I love you?
Mommy

Ava and Mommy Time

2006-03-14T20:16:00.000-08:00

Hi sweet girl,

Since I started yoga teacher training a couple weeks ago I have been much busier than before trying to get in all the practice hours and going to classes on top of that. We've seen each other, but the time always seems rushed and frantic.

When I wasn't looking you rushed head-first into being two, or nearly two, with minor tantrums, use of the n-word (no), and basically tearing the house apart cabinet after drawer. I asked your Daddy if this just started...yes, he said, why do you think I got the tricycle? Evidently he's found the secret weapon against your pre-two behavior: get you on that trike and get you outside! (I'll post a pic when I take one!)

Today though, was all ours. We started with yoga (me) and Sesame Street (you) although you joined me in corpse pose at the end of my practice by pushing me off my mat and laying down yourself. I was done enough.

Then I made the three of us bo-da-lee-da-lee pancakes. Those are Mom's special recipe blueberry pancakes topped with Brown Cow vanilla yogurt. You said "mo pees, mo pees" (more please) a few times as you finished each one.

After breakfast, you, Daddy, and I took off with you on the tricycle and went for a good walk up around the park.

Then we had a party to attend. Our friend Zoya was celebrating her second birthday and we went to join in the festivities! We partied with wild abandon for nearly 3 hours until it was well beyond naptime. You were still wide awake when we got home, and it took more than usual convincing (aka I resorted to sitting with you in the rocking chair) to get you to sleep.

When you woke up you insisted you had to have oatmeal. Oat-meal! Oat-meal! Okay, fine, I am not going to argue with you wanting oatmeal that I top with applesauce. In our household cereal is acceptable dinner fare so how can I argue?

What are we going to do with the rest of our day? I asked you. We decided to paint.

After painting we went for a quick drive with Daddy to photograph a house. We came home and played with play-doh, read books, took a long bath, read more books. Now you're in bed, I think asleep, and can I just say I had a wonderful FUN day with you today.

love,
Mommy

My little yogini

2006-03-07T07:40:00.000-08:00

While Grandma Bear was here a couple weeks ago, I jumped into a yoga teacher training at www.yogatreesf.com. It's been marvelous, if not a little tiring.

I really, really, really want to teach yoga to toddlers. I wasn't quite sure how young those toddlers could be though. As I practiced a couple poses in front of Grandma Bear and you, I said that I thought you might be too young for yoga.

As luck would have it, you jumped with an abundance of enthusiasm into a replication of my triangle pose:

Or maybe it's warrior two from the look on your face.

Then you showed us what else you could do:

parsva upavista konasana (seated side angle pose)

we'll call this warrior two, or action figure pose
(virabhadrasana)

And it was time to finish, with savasana, of course (corpse pose)

Thank you for teaching me that you're never too young for yoga.

all my love,
Mommy

Twenty three months, aka are you really almost two?

2006-03-04T20:19:00.000-08:00

Hi little one,

Tonight before bedtime your Daddy put you up against the growth chart on your wall and we saw you've grown nearly four inches since last year. Four inches! You still have one month left until you are two whole years old, which according to someone, somewhere if you double your height at two years that will be your height when you are done growing.

Thirty-one inches you were today. Daddy adds and says sixty-two. I say, yes, sixty two inches, the same as me. What a surprise that you wouldn't be six feet tall with such giants for parents.

You are up to so much lately! You have a hard time laying still so I can change a diaper but you are not quite ready for your training toilet although you like sitting on it with your clothes on. You've sat on it twice naked before taking a bath, but no action. I know if I was a really motivated parent I would have had you toilet-trained at 18 months, but in some ways I'm just a lazy American with easy access to diapers. I do feel a tinge guilty about landfills and such, but I mitigate that guilt when I remember I used cloth diapers when you were an infant.

From what I understand though, about those toddlers who are toilet trained at 18 months is that it takes supreme dedication and devotion from the parents on getting the toddler behind onto that seat all the time. It's more about training the parent than the toddler at this point, which seems to be the case a lot.

You have a few new tricks up your sleeve. You like to take keys and hide them in strange places. One time I found my keys in the back of your baby stroller. The other day Daddy was frantically searching for his keys and never found them. Two days later you pulled them out of a pot in the cupboard. Of course! Where else would you keep keys!

Grandma Bear was out visiting a couple weeks ago and she read you lots of books. She also taught you to say "Thank you Mommy" or "thank you grandma." After she left we started a new game where I say "thank you Ava" and you respond "sink you mommy." We volley the thank yous back and forth about six times until we are both laughing.

You have broken past the P boundary when you sing your ABC's. You skip a few letters now and X sounds a lot like F, but you make it all the way to Z. Just like Mommy, you say Z with all of the enthusiasm you have.

After bathtime you still often give me a big hug, when you are naked and dripping wet. I always make sure I approach bathtime in clothes that don't have water stain issues. You then like to run around in just your hooded towels like a miniature super hero. You are rapidly nearing the stage where you prefer naked to clothed.

Well, I take that back. You like clothes, but what you really like is to put more clothes on over the clothes you are already wearing. You can get pants on but still aren't sure about shirts, except today for the first time you got a sweater over your head.

You love painting at your easel,

wearing Mommy's big shoes while eating tortillas,

and hats. You adore hats!

As for Mommy and Daddy...

we love you. Happy 23 Months, big girl.

Disaster Diaper not for the weak stomached

2006-02-14T13:34:00.000-08:00

Today just after I put you down for a nap, you had a complete and total blowout diaper.

Note: if you aren't a parent or haven't spent time around diapers and their contents and are thusly afraid of the contents of diapers, consider yourself warned: you won't want to read this.

You were getting crabby and wanted to play with your lunch rather than eat it, and it was naptime anyway, so I grabbed a binky and we went into your room.

I put you down on the floor so you could climb into your toddler bed, which you did, and you put your head down and I left the room so I could finish making brownies for Daddy for V-day.

You were really quiet, so quiet that I wondered if you'd (shockingly) fallen asleep. Nope, you were sitting up in bed playing with your moose. Fine, as long as you're quiet, I told myself, you can stay right where you are.

About five minutes later I heard one of the many noise-making toys in your room playing Baa, Baa Black Sheep.

I walk in, armed with a sense of humor, and said: "Busted!"

You were standing in front of your bed, but my nose was assaulted by not-a-good smell. I saw on the edge of your comforter something brown that wasn't there earlier.

Oh no.

This is the part where those with a weak constitution or digestive system should stop reading. Really.

I put you on your changing table, surprised that I didn't see anything on the back of your pants. Oh no - it came out the FRONT! Part liquid part solid, I hadn't seen a diaper that bad since the days of breast milk yellow mustard poop (which I never understood - breast milk isn't yellow).

The poop had exceeded the limits of the diaper. To make this briefer, let's just say I used seven wipes and still stripped you down to naked plus a binky and washed you off in the bathtub standing up next to the water faucet. I ended up throwing away the white cotton onesie that was under your sweatsuit. Everything else - your clothes, socks, comforter, pillowcase, changing table cover - they're all in the washer right now covered in spray n' wash.

Now you're in clean clothes, bed stripped down to a clean sheet, new pillowcase, and a blanket. Ten minutes ago when I peeked in you were sitting up with your moose, but now you are laying down fast asleep. I can only imagine you feel so much better.

If you have any doubt that I love you, read this again. Love doesn't look any more real than my willingness to change that disaster diaper.

Other things you're up to at 22 months

2006-02-10T14:10:00.000-08:00

Hi my sweet girl,

Now that I've written what you're doing at 22 months, I have noticed a couple new things.

When you are ready to eat, you say "eat" and climb into your highchair. At first this was a little startling, but now it's funny. It's also great because Daddy and I aren't good with subtlety.

You are getting a bit pickier about what you'll eat, but scrambled eggs, bananas, cheese, and carrots are Ava-pleasers. You sometimes will eat a bite of cauliflower and the tiniest bite of broccoli. Not often though. You don't like ground beef or any other sort of beef. Your Daddy says I've corrupted you because I don't like beef either. I respond, yes, I am so sorry to be saving her from the perils of mass-produced who-knows-what-fed beef. I'm so sorry!

You know exactly one color: pink. I show you other colors, and then ask you, "Color?" You always respond "pink." If life is good seen through rose-colored glasses, I bet it's just as good when the world is pink.

You know how to put on your own socks! I watched you take off your socks, I looked again and one was back on your foot! You looked at me and were about to hand me your other sock to put on, but I said I wanted to see you do it. Sure enough you got it over your foot and pulled it all the way up!

You can also put on shoes! Not your super-cool pink and orange shoes, but your black casual mary janes. You took these out of your armoire this morning, put them on, and then modeled them naked for us. Being that this is a family blog, I opted not to post nudie shots of you just yet and posted the image of you partially dressed instead. Yes, the shoes are on backwards but you didn't seem to mind.

This morning we visited a parent-run co-op daycare which was quite an adventure! The people were nice, fine for me, perhaps a bit left for Daddy. Either that or the tofu and sauteed veggies for lunch scared him off. We are not quite ready to leave you with other parents just yet - our rule from when you were born was daycare only after you were old enough to tell us what happened during the day.

You should be waking from your nap any minute. I love you stinky-dink!

Mommy

Mom gets a new camera and Ava is no longer green

2006-02-07T18:17:00.000-08:00

San Francisco was beautiful and sunny today, so we went to the park and took Mom's new camera.

Twenty-two months

2006-02-06T14:29:00.000-08:00

Hi sweet girl,

Yesterday we celebrated your twenty-second month on the planet with a huge party and invited everyone we knew.

Okay, we didn't. But since you won't remember I could still say that and everyone reading this blog would wonder why they weren't invited.

Seriously though, you are doing some fun things now that you are 22 months old.

You unwind the toilet paper six feet into the living room. I can understand the appeal, but since I have to wind it back up, it's not so fun for Mom.

You play with legos and building hugely unstable creations. I try to support them as you build so they don't come tumbling down, but then I wonder if you will learn more if I don't?

You are not quite jumping as in your feet actually leaving the ground but you are SO close! You do love to straddle the arms of the sofa, even though you know we are going to tell you to get down. We don't want to explain the head injury to everyone we know and want to put off that first trip to the Emergency room until you are old enough to climb trees.

You are hooked on your binky...Daddy and I are trying to cut back to just naptime and bedtime but you start looking for it. You see one and say Binky! Binky! Binky! as if your life depended on the ability to chew on it. Yes, chew. You seem to chew on it more than anything, except when you're really tired. Baby Einstein is still a guarantee for a quiet Ava, except the Ava that sees the video cover and says Bay-bee Eye-sty over and over. You have also developed a huge love of the Teletubbies to your dad's chagrin. I don't mind them so much, but he thinks there is something terribly wrong with them.

Bedtime...sometimes it is easy, as in I say "bedtime" and you climb into your toddler bed. You may get up once, but get back in bed without a tear and then go to sleep. Other times you fall asleep next to me, and other times you fall asleep with Daddy watching TV. You sleep a semi-predictable ten or eleven hours at night and one to two hours during the day.

You're really adept at eating with a fork or spoon and like drinking out of a regular cup. You say more please and help please which absolutely delights me. You say "thank you" if I ask you to say it, someday you may say it without prompting!

Your favorite stuffed toy is a moose - but you say mouse - which happened to be my moose for a while before it was yours. You have dozens of words up your sleeves, but my personal favorites are blueberry (bo-lee-da-lee), strawberry (ba-da-lee), and water which for reasons known only to you you call "ba-da-loo." Sometimes you say "wa-wa" but most of the time it's "ba-da-loo." We think you're saying bottle of water, but it's funny regardless.

You color on your artist's easel, adding another swirl each day to the current drawing. I'm pleased to say that you've listened to my admonitions to write "only on the paper." You sometimes sing to yourself as you play, moving things in your room to the living room, dragging cats in laundry baskets across the wood floor. Tonight you entertained yourself by putting your crayons into your laundry basket, picking them up and putting them in a box, then dumping the box back into the laundry basket. I can see the appeal, really I can.

You help me weed in the back yard, taking clover in the bucket and transporting it into your own bucket. You don't get extra credit for stealing my weeds, you know! You love being outside - you point at the back doors - "outside! outside!" If we pitched a tent back there I bet you'd sleep in it with no problem.

Maybe by next month Mommy will have a good camera and can post lots of cool pictures of you before your birthday! Until then, we'll have to settle for the good enough treo shots.

I love you little one,
Mommy

Going to the zoo

2006-01-17T22:06:00.000-08:00

Pic on the train at the SF Zoo from last Friday

Say say oh playmate

2006-01-17T21:44:00.000-08:00

Hi my sweet girl,

Today we saw our friends Tracey and Allie. Tracey is really really really ready to pop out a baby and scheduled to this Friday. Allie is a year older than you which sort of makes a difference now but when you're 32 and she is 33 it will make no difference at all.

This is rather amusing, now that I think of it, because Tracey is one year older than me, and it does make no difference at all! We, meaning Tracey and I, actually went to the same high school for three years and never knew each other. We met through our same friend Nicole about five or six years ago and later figured out this "small world" connection.

But I digress. As usual.

So today we were playing, playing, playing with all of Allie's toys. Allie, she is a sweet girl who feels the change about to thunder its way into her life (I mean the baby). She knows baby Kate is coming but not quite what to make of it.

You two played marvelously together and also serially next to each other. We watched Baby Einstein "On The Farm" which you hadn't seen before - of course any Bay-bee Eye-sty is a big hit in your world. All it takes is that computer animated caterpillar and the trademark tune and you're hooked.

We visited for a couple hours until well past your naptime. As we were getting ready to go and saying our "bye byes" where you even said "bye bye Allie," you turned around and walked up to Allie and hugged her! Honey, that warmed my heart AND Tracey's.

Then you knew it was time to go and you walked up to the front door reaching for the knob to turn.

You're getting to be such a big girl. You sing your ABC's up to about P, skipping over LMN (thank you Grandma Bear for the Singing ABC Tad!). You sing all the action parts to Wheels On The Bus (as in "go round and round") and you sing EIEIO on cue after I sing "Old MacDonald had a farm..." Maybe I've written about these before, but your enthusiasm is a wonder to see.

When you walk by the plastic magnetic letters on the refrigerator you sing ABC's also - you don't know which is which yet, but you know they're all up there!

You give spontaneous leg hugs (to my leg), but also come over with both arms wide open when Daddy or I ask for a hug. You give mmmm kissies nearly all of the time.

Tonight you fell asleep watching Winnie The Pooh's Grand Adventure because I wanted to read my book instead of reading House At Pooh Corner to you. You didn't seem to mind a bit, in fact it was probably more fun to have a movie with good character voices than Mommy trying to make Eeyore sound different than Piglet and failing noticeably.

You should know though that your Daddy and I - we love you more than we ever thought possible. We love you with a big wide open love that expands every day.

The object of this game...

2006-01-09T11:18:00.000-08:00

...is to get as many celery stalks as possible in one little cup of peanut butter. (sorry Ava is so green, the light didn't agree with my treo camera!)

One and twenty months

2006-01-06T20:11:00.000-08:00

My big little girl,

Where do I begin to tell the story of my big little girl who is now one and twenty months? As Winnie the Pooh would say, I should start at the beginning and go until I've reached the end. I am quoting Pooh, of course, because I just read to you from The House At Pooh Corner. As I read aloud those last few sentences in the first chapter, you rolled over on your side with your back towards me and fell asleep. No binky, no baby eye-sty, just peacefully, blissfully asleep.

Binky, binky, binky! We hear that a lot these days, so much that we're cutting back to naptime and bedtime for the binky. We want to hear what you have to say! You do have a lot to say these days, you've begun to put two words together into not quite sentences but at least ardent commands. "Bye-bye kitty-cat" is still around, with lots of Mommys and Daddys to follow. You love saying zebra and owl and ball. You love balls of all shapes and sizes.

You are such a pleasure to be around. Tonight before reading and night-night time we played with legos (gegos). You've taught me to enjoy building tall lego structures even if they don't have proper rooms and doorways. I built the base and then hastily filled in the blanks so your additions were stable. Then we tore down the structure and put it all back in the lego box.

We played a bunch of rounds of our favorite game: Boom! To play Boom! we take your nine animal blocks and 26 alphabet blocks and stack them as high as we can. Then I say, "Make it go Boom!" You touch the middle and all the blocks go tumbling down. We both laugh becuase this is quite hysterical and then we pile them up to do it again.

You love to take baths and especially love bubbles. We start bathtime with the plummet of the ducks and frog and our ritual naked baby dance. When you're in the bathtub you love to drink bathwater out of little cups. I don't quite get this, but I have no complaints. You also love to pour water from one little cup into another.

You sing row, row, row and merrily, merrily, merrily for Row, Row, Row Your Boat song. You sing e-i-e-i-o at the appropriate places in Old MacDonald Had a Farm. You just started to sing round and round for the Wheels on the Bus song.

The best of all though is that you sing e-f-g-h-i-j-k of the Alphabet Song, and have been even heard to sing lmnop or therebouts. You sing this either when someone starts with a-b-c-d or when you walk up to the refrigerator and point at the magnetic alphabet letters. Daddy and I think you're brilliant.

After we took down the Christmas tree and put the green chair in its place you started a new entertaining habit of saying Bye! Bye! and then hiding behind the transparent curtain (partially hidden behind the green chair) until someone says either "Bye Bye" or "Come back, we miss you!" Then you reveal yourself from behind the curtain giggling and then walk back around to do it again.

You still get upset whenever Daddy sits next to me or is within three feet of me. We try to explain that it's a good thing. You want happy parents as divorced parents are not fun in the slightest, but alas, you're not buying that yet. Someday, we hope, to cuddle on the couch without you whining in the corner or trying to pull us apart. Your Daddy swears he will remember this and do the same to you when you bring a boyfriend home.

While I'm on the subject, I have to note that on New Year's Eve you were spotted on your couch leaning over to your friend Jack, lips puckered so he could kiss you. I saw it, Jack's mom saw it, and I only wish we had a camera.

Happy twenty-one month birthday, my big little girl. You are a joy and every day I think how lucky I am to be your Mommy.

Many ways to eat a pb&j sandwich

2005-12-26T13:20:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-25T10:48:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-23T14:03:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-15T09:42:00.000-08:00

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

Picture time!

2005-12-13T21:34:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-13T21:06:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-04T11:29:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-28T13:25:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-13T10:53:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-11T12:25:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-09T20:56:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-04T19:28:00.000-08:00

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

2005-10-31T13:46:00.000-08:00

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

2005-10-28T07:25:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-27T20:38:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-26T19:43:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-21T06:47:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-19T11:31:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-07T13:32:00.000-07:00

The World of Crayola

2005-10-07T12:39:00.000-07:00

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.

Letters To My Daughter

One Sticker

Almost 7

End of Kindergarten

Six

Santa likes silver trees ...

Your first art exhibit

Memories in the heart

Highlights

"I" Messages

Conversations

Kindergarten Day 2

Kindergarten

Choices & Decisions

-

Conversations

The llama in the bolcano and other Ava stories

Professions

Friends

This is Fluffy, Because Conejito Wasn't Available

I'm almost embarassed to write this ...

Five Years

Taking the first step, next step

Tales of discipline and devotion

Two Arm One Leg Wave

Read when you're sixteen, again when you're thirty

Merry Christmas 2008

And a picture for fun

Update

I love you game

Party of Two

Four years old

Cherry Blossoms

San Francisco Zoo

Three letters

Ski Bunny

Princess Ava

Loving what drives me crazy

Trick or Treat!

Falling

Little Einsteins makes kids smarter

Time

Thank you notes

Picture speaks for itself

A great compliment

Happy

A bit about life and sadness

Yucky chicken for the piggies

My big little girl

Three

Thirty-five months

My big little girl

Diki-diki da-da and more Ava quotes

Thirty one months, but who's counting?

But what does Ava look like now?

How to care for your moose part 2 & 3

Thirty Months (or two and a half years)

Mommy & Ava Day

Twenty nine months

Absence

Success measured in vegetables

Euphamisms in the bathroom

Twenty Six Months

These are for Uncle Anthony

How to teach a moose to jump

Twenty Five Months

How to care for your moose

Priceless

Two

Ava and Mommy Time

My little yogini

Twenty three months, aka are you really almost two?

Disaster Diaper *not for the weak stomached*

Other things you're up to at 22 months

Mom gets a new camera and Ava is no longer green

Twenty-two months

Going to the zoo

Say say oh playmate

The object of this game...

One and twenty months

Disaster Diaper not for the weak stomached