Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Solitary Vice
Hi stinky-dink,
Today at play group, we were discussing the relative vices of you, our tribe of toddlers.
It would seem that most, if not all of you have reached 16 or 18 months with potentially one vice to your name. Yours, of course, would be the pacifier.
Others had other vices, I think you're the only pacifier dependent one, but it's not my call to name vices of others so I'll just say that they existed, and they weren't particularly better or worse than the pacifier.
I don't know why I struggle so with your craving for it. You can't pass one by on the floor or table without plugging your mouth immediately. Earlier today I saw you walking around with one in your mouth, another in your hand, for emergency pacifier failure? I couldn't be sure.
After talking to my fabulous group of Mom-friends though I did see one thing in a new way. You have pretty much one vice. One. You may also have a couple bad sleeping habits and a Mom who has been called the "Food Nazi" by more than one homo sapien, but pretty much it comes down to the pacifier and I would bet my next paycheck that peer pressure will keep you from using it in high school.
I'm going to do my best to relax about the whole pacifier thing. I do panic a bit about the orthodontics bill that will be slapped down after years of pacifier gluttony, but this may be unnecessary. Maybe your teeth will straighten themselves out. Maybe the eleven months of nursing cancel out the pacifier? Who knows.
Maybe, my little pumpkin, you have to have one vice or you'd be too good. Maybe if Mamama stopped staring at the one blemish on an otherwise perfect complexion, Mamama would feel a whole lot better about the whole thing and you would just spontaneously forget you ever liked it in the first place.
Now though, you're asleep, and Harry Potter year 6 awaits.
I love you,
Mamama
Today at play group, we were discussing the relative vices of you, our tribe of toddlers.
It would seem that most, if not all of you have reached 16 or 18 months with potentially one vice to your name. Yours, of course, would be the pacifier.
Others had other vices, I think you're the only pacifier dependent one, but it's not my call to name vices of others so I'll just say that they existed, and they weren't particularly better or worse than the pacifier.
I don't know why I struggle so with your craving for it. You can't pass one by on the floor or table without plugging your mouth immediately. Earlier today I saw you walking around with one in your mouth, another in your hand, for emergency pacifier failure? I couldn't be sure.
After talking to my fabulous group of Mom-friends though I did see one thing in a new way. You have pretty much one vice. One. You may also have a couple bad sleeping habits and a Mom who has been called the "Food Nazi" by more than one homo sapien, but pretty much it comes down to the pacifier and I would bet my next paycheck that peer pressure will keep you from using it in high school.
I'm going to do my best to relax about the whole pacifier thing. I do panic a bit about the orthodontics bill that will be slapped down after years of pacifier gluttony, but this may be unnecessary. Maybe your teeth will straighten themselves out. Maybe the eleven months of nursing cancel out the pacifier? Who knows.
Maybe, my little pumpkin, you have to have one vice or you'd be too good. Maybe if Mamama stopped staring at the one blemish on an otherwise perfect complexion, Mamama would feel a whole lot better about the whole thing and you would just spontaneously forget you ever liked it in the first place.
Now though, you're asleep, and Harry Potter year 6 awaits.
I love you,
Mamama
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Toddling
Hi Ava,
During our week vacation apart, you transformed from an almost toddler to a full fledged walking toddler. After eight days of chasing after your two slightly older cousins you walk with wild abandon. Today you even squiggled out of my arms in your haste to get to the ground.
Your Aunt Susi and Uncle John, not to mention cousins Karilyn and Annie taught you a few new tricks which I am finding really useful. You now are capable of saying "eat" (or a close facsimile) when you are hungry. You are also a much better dancer now, and if Fred were still in his dancing shoes, you'd be bumping Ginger right out of the way.
Your Aunt Susi claims you were an absolute angel during your visit and that you knew that you were just visiting while I was off somewhere else. You took a regular nap at 11AM and went to bed every night at 7:30PM. It is really, really nice to know this can happen! Of course, you've fought both the nap and the bedtime since you've arrived at home, and even brought us a surprise gift of pre-two tantrums. You haven't flailed on the ground, but you've done your share of screaming today.
Can I blame the two top incisors that are breaking through? Is that blaming too much on the teething? Or can I just blame it on separation anxiety as we were apart for longer than ever before and perhaps you're just worried that Mamama is going away again.
We went to Holly Park today, you and I, and for the first time you walked rapidly all over the place. I felt so strange and proud at the same time. We've been to Holly Park with our friends and I've watched all of their kids run around, now it's your turn. The monkey scoot has disappeared along with the soft leather shoes. You did get another compliment on your fabulous purple shoes though, from a Mom with a 12 month old girl at the park.
Now, it's 9:23. It only took an hour to get you to sleep, and I say "only" in the most sarcastic of senses after multiple instances of putting you down, letting you scream, picking you up, down, scream, up, down, scream, and finally sleep. I love the idea of a 7:30 bedtime, the execution leaves something to be desired.
Now, it's time for Mamama to go to sleep. If I scream will you come pick me up?
I did miss you, little one, and it's good to be home.
love,
Mamama
During our week vacation apart, you transformed from an almost toddler to a full fledged walking toddler. After eight days of chasing after your two slightly older cousins you walk with wild abandon. Today you even squiggled out of my arms in your haste to get to the ground.
Your Aunt Susi and Uncle John, not to mention cousins Karilyn and Annie taught you a few new tricks which I am finding really useful. You now are capable of saying "eat" (or a close facsimile) when you are hungry. You are also a much better dancer now, and if Fred were still in his dancing shoes, you'd be bumping Ginger right out of the way.
Your Aunt Susi claims you were an absolute angel during your visit and that you knew that you were just visiting while I was off somewhere else. You took a regular nap at 11AM and went to bed every night at 7:30PM. It is really, really nice to know this can happen! Of course, you've fought both the nap and the bedtime since you've arrived at home, and even brought us a surprise gift of pre-two tantrums. You haven't flailed on the ground, but you've done your share of screaming today.
Can I blame the two top incisors that are breaking through? Is that blaming too much on the teething? Or can I just blame it on separation anxiety as we were apart for longer than ever before and perhaps you're just worried that Mamama is going away again.
We went to Holly Park today, you and I, and for the first time you walked rapidly all over the place. I felt so strange and proud at the same time. We've been to Holly Park with our friends and I've watched all of their kids run around, now it's your turn. The monkey scoot has disappeared along with the soft leather shoes. You did get another compliment on your fabulous purple shoes though, from a Mom with a 12 month old girl at the park.
Now, it's 9:23. It only took an hour to get you to sleep, and I say "only" in the most sarcastic of senses after multiple instances of putting you down, letting you scream, picking you up, down, scream, up, down, scream, and finally sleep. I love the idea of a 7:30 bedtime, the execution leaves something to be desired.
Now, it's time for Mamama to go to sleep. If I scream will you come pick me up?
I did miss you, little one, and it's good to be home.
love,
Mamama
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Already missing you
Hi sweet girl,
I was sad today I watched your Dadada leave to deliver you to your Uncle John's and Aunt Susi's. I came back into the house and fumbled around a bit unsure of what to do with myself. Sure, I had a list of errands to run and more to add to the list, but I felt a bit lost without you to wrap my Tuesday around.
Your Dadada called me after he dropped you off and said that was he hardest thing he's had to do in a while. As he was leaving you, he told you it was time for him to go and to give Daddy a kissy. You puckered up your lips and leaned over and kissed him. That's the first time I've heard of you doing that!
Around 7:30 as I was settling in to eat dinner, I thought of you. I closed my eyes, slowed down my breath until my heart felt warm, and I pictured myself wrapping my arms around you. I called your Aunt & Uncle's house a half hour later, and it turned out that's when you went to sleep.
Your Aunt Susi is a mom after my own heart, she told me what you ate for dinner (carrots and broccoli and TWO cups of milk!) and when you fell asleep. She said you were such a good baby and hardly cried today.
Maybe I'm doing my job okay afterall.
I love you stinky-dink.
Mamama
I was sad today I watched your Dadada leave to deliver you to your Uncle John's and Aunt Susi's. I came back into the house and fumbled around a bit unsure of what to do with myself. Sure, I had a list of errands to run and more to add to the list, but I felt a bit lost without you to wrap my Tuesday around.
Your Dadada called me after he dropped you off and said that was he hardest thing he's had to do in a while. As he was leaving you, he told you it was time for him to go and to give Daddy a kissy. You puckered up your lips and leaned over and kissed him. That's the first time I've heard of you doing that!
Around 7:30 as I was settling in to eat dinner, I thought of you. I closed my eyes, slowed down my breath until my heart felt warm, and I pictured myself wrapping my arms around you. I called your Aunt & Uncle's house a half hour later, and it turned out that's when you went to sleep.
Your Aunt Susi is a mom after my own heart, she told me what you ate for dinner (carrots and broccoli and TWO cups of milk!) and when you fell asleep. She said you were such a good baby and hardly cried today.
Maybe I'm doing my job okay afterall.
I love you stinky-dink.
Mamama
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Protected by love
Hi Sweet Girl,
I was sad this afternoon, thinking of how much I'm going to miss you while your Dad and I go to Cancun. I looked at you walking, stumbling, picking yourself up to standing again, and my heart was sad thinking we'll be apart for a week and a half.
Your Dadada is driving you to your Aunt & Uncle's tomorrow while I'm at work. I'm sure you'll make the best of it and play with your cousins, and I'll make the best of Cancun and try not to miss you too much, but we've never been apart more than a couple nights before.
Sense usurped sensitivity at last and I surrendered to enjoying you. I didn't want you to feel something was wrong, that my sadness meant you were doing something wrong, so I just felt the love I have for you, warming me.
You are such a fabulous little girl. Everytime you walk to me and throw your arms around me I melt into a big sloppy puddle. You know you're doing something good, too, walking with that big wild grin on your face.
Tonight we watched Charmed while I cleaned up the living room and then I decided it was time for Xena and I pulled out the DVD. You like Xena, I can tell because you point at the TV when the theme song comes on and say AAAYYYYY. Your Dadada, he's a great man, but he doesn't get Xena like we do.
I told you it was time for bed soon and you walked around wearing off some of the last dregs of your energy until you came over to me on the couch and lifted one leg to try to climb up. This is my cue to pick you up and lay you down spoon-like in front of me.
You fell asleep about halfway through the program, on top of me diagonally, your back on my chest, legs off me to the left. You had one arm reaching back, touching me under my chin and I had my right arm over your tummy, keeping you safe.
I made a wish while you slept, your face two inches from mine. I said that while we're apart that you are protected by love, light, and all that is good; and that every day we're apart you will feel my love for you and know that we will be together again soon.
Do you know I love you?
Mamama
I was sad this afternoon, thinking of how much I'm going to miss you while your Dad and I go to Cancun. I looked at you walking, stumbling, picking yourself up to standing again, and my heart was sad thinking we'll be apart for a week and a half.
Your Dadada is driving you to your Aunt & Uncle's tomorrow while I'm at work. I'm sure you'll make the best of it and play with your cousins, and I'll make the best of Cancun and try not to miss you too much, but we've never been apart more than a couple nights before.
Sense usurped sensitivity at last and I surrendered to enjoying you. I didn't want you to feel something was wrong, that my sadness meant you were doing something wrong, so I just felt the love I have for you, warming me.
You are such a fabulous little girl. Everytime you walk to me and throw your arms around me I melt into a big sloppy puddle. You know you're doing something good, too, walking with that big wild grin on your face.
Tonight we watched Charmed while I cleaned up the living room and then I decided it was time for Xena and I pulled out the DVD. You like Xena, I can tell because you point at the TV when the theme song comes on and say AAAYYYYY. Your Dadada, he's a great man, but he doesn't get Xena like we do.
I told you it was time for bed soon and you walked around wearing off some of the last dregs of your energy until you came over to me on the couch and lifted one leg to try to climb up. This is my cue to pick you up and lay you down spoon-like in front of me.
You fell asleep about halfway through the program, on top of me diagonally, your back on my chest, legs off me to the left. You had one arm reaching back, touching me under my chin and I had my right arm over your tummy, keeping you safe.
I made a wish while you slept, your face two inches from mine. I said that while we're apart that you are protected by love, light, and all that is good; and that every day we're apart you will feel my love for you and know that we will be together again soon.
Do you know I love you?
Mamama
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Walking business
Dear Ava,
This whole walking thing is very strange. First of all, when I got home today you walked to the front door when you saw me. Walked!
Second, you just walked into your bedroom to play with toys. Walked!
Third, when I put you down a few minutes ago, you didn't want to go down into a sitting position, but instead extended your legs and took off walking from where I put you. There are fewer gaps of monkey-scoot between strides. I'm going to miss that monkey-scoot of yours when it goes.
My friend Victoria commented recently that kids (including her 18 month old Ian) just look different when they start walking. I agree, you look taller and smaller and just, well, older or wiser somehow.
You still hold your hands in "stick 'em up" pose, so you walk around looking like a baby cactus. You used to sleep like a baby cactus when you were a month or two old, now you walk like a baby cactus.
It's just strange, really, this whole walking business. Next you're going to start calling me to pick you up from the mall. Where has my little girl gone?
Love,
Mamama
This whole walking thing is very strange. First of all, when I got home today you walked to the front door when you saw me. Walked!
Second, you just walked into your bedroom to play with toys. Walked!
Third, when I put you down a few minutes ago, you didn't want to go down into a sitting position, but instead extended your legs and took off walking from where I put you. There are fewer gaps of monkey-scoot between strides. I'm going to miss that monkey-scoot of yours when it goes.
My friend Victoria commented recently that kids (including her 18 month old Ian) just look different when they start walking. I agree, you look taller and smaller and just, well, older or wiser somehow.
You still hold your hands in "stick 'em up" pose, so you walk around looking like a baby cactus. You used to sleep like a baby cactus when you were a month or two old, now you walk like a baby cactus.
It's just strange, really, this whole walking business. Next you're going to start calling me to pick you up from the mall. Where has my little girl gone?
Love,
Mamama
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Lounging in the morning
Hi little one,
The mornings I am home with you are my favorite mornings of all. There's no rush, no hurry, we lounge around in bed with you sitting, flopping back, flopping on me, pulling yourself up with the metal headboard.
This morning was like this; you slept with me last night because I was feeling selfish. I was gone from 7AM until 9PM last night; I missed you and wanted you close.
Your chirps and short cries woke me, I opened my eyes and you were staring at me with your big brown ojos. I smiled, you smiled, then you leaned over to bite my nose. You were fascinated with my hair, picking it up and running it through you fingers. Soon enough, I promise, your hair will be as long as mine.
We lounged for at least half an hour, the TV dark and silent, the morning completely ours with no distractions. We played a quick game of modified peek-a-boo where I hid my face under the sheet and you "found me."
Now, you are about ready for a nap, evident by the whine, and from the obvious smell you could use a clean diaper. I better get to that...
love,
Mamama
The mornings I am home with you are my favorite mornings of all. There's no rush, no hurry, we lounge around in bed with you sitting, flopping back, flopping on me, pulling yourself up with the metal headboard.
This morning was like this; you slept with me last night because I was feeling selfish. I was gone from 7AM until 9PM last night; I missed you and wanted you close.
Your chirps and short cries woke me, I opened my eyes and you were staring at me with your big brown ojos. I smiled, you smiled, then you leaned over to bite my nose. You were fascinated with my hair, picking it up and running it through you fingers. Soon enough, I promise, your hair will be as long as mine.
We lounged for at least half an hour, the TV dark and silent, the morning completely ours with no distractions. We played a quick game of modified peek-a-boo where I hid my face under the sheet and you "found me."
Now, you are about ready for a nap, evident by the whine, and from the obvious smell you could use a clean diaper. I better get to that...
love,
Mamama
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Toy on the table
Hi sweetest girl,
You are starting to resist naps big time. I even went so far today as to gate us into your bedroom, lay down on the yellow couch in your room, and pretend to sleep in hopes that you'd do the same. No dice. I think I even fell asleep for a few minutes because when I opened my eyes again you'd emptied out the contents of your dresser onto the floor. Then, when I had given up hope and was about to take you to the grocery store to get dinner, you started your trademark "nobody loves me" whine and I gave you a pacifier and rocked you for ten seconds and you were gone.
I can't start dinner, because dinner ingredients are still at the grocery store, and I can't very well leave because you're asleep.
So I started working and on the table was one of your toys. I could picture the future moment when you would be out the door, away at college, and there would be no toys on the table. I didn't even have a second to be irritated that I had to put yet another toy away, because I could feel time dissolving the distance between now and then. Today, you're getting closer to being a full time walker, tomorrow, you're taking that acceptance letter and packing for some college that is probably not as close as SFSU or even Berkeley.
I'm glad the house doesn't have to be perfect, that I don't have to rush to put away the toys you skattered on the floor, that I don't scream in agony when I have to pick up the clothes you ripped out of your dresser that I did just neatly fold and put away.
I'm glad, at least today, that I can smile about it. I can see far enough into the future to enjoy the toy on the table while you're asleep in your crib, 144 inches, not miles, away.
I love you stinky-dink,
Mamama
You are starting to resist naps big time. I even went so far today as to gate us into your bedroom, lay down on the yellow couch in your room, and pretend to sleep in hopes that you'd do the same. No dice. I think I even fell asleep for a few minutes because when I opened my eyes again you'd emptied out the contents of your dresser onto the floor. Then, when I had given up hope and was about to take you to the grocery store to get dinner, you started your trademark "nobody loves me" whine and I gave you a pacifier and rocked you for ten seconds and you were gone.
I can't start dinner, because dinner ingredients are still at the grocery store, and I can't very well leave because you're asleep.
So I started working and on the table was one of your toys. I could picture the future moment when you would be out the door, away at college, and there would be no toys on the table. I didn't even have a second to be irritated that I had to put yet another toy away, because I could feel time dissolving the distance between now and then. Today, you're getting closer to being a full time walker, tomorrow, you're taking that acceptance letter and packing for some college that is probably not as close as SFSU or even Berkeley.
I'm glad the house doesn't have to be perfect, that I don't have to rush to put away the toys you skattered on the floor, that I don't scream in agony when I have to pick up the clothes you ripped out of your dresser that I did just neatly fold and put away.
I'm glad, at least today, that I can smile about it. I can see far enough into the future to enjoy the toy on the table while you're asleep in your crib, 144 inches, not miles, away.
I love you stinky-dink,
Mamama
Friday, August 05, 2005
Ava celebrates her sixteen month birthday
Hi stinky-dink!
Today, you are sixteen months old. We celebrated this exciting event with buying you big-girl walking shoes from Nordstrom. As always, I couldn't buy you pink shoes, I bought you super purple shoes! My bank account hurt just a little as I dropped $50 on shoes for you, but since these are your first shoes, I couldn't resist.
We also celebrated today by hanging out with our friends Amy and Jack. We went to lunch at olive garden where you and Jack swung spaghetti noodles high over your heads and then cracked them like whips.
We then went to the petting zoo, where you touched goats' horns, surprised at the hardness of them and wondering why the small black and white animals at home don't have these. You always love the ducks, and tried more than once to climb into the duck pond although I insisted it wasn't a good day for swimming. You monkey scooted your way across the petting zoo getting your new shoes all dusty.
We finished our SF Zoo experience with a ride on the carousel horse, you in front, me in back. I asked you mid-ride what you thought and you responded with "Yaaaaayyyyyy!"
You are such a beautiful child, a wonderful child, and a curious child. Your latest tricks are to cover your eyes for peek-a-boo when I say "Where's Ava?" and then you take your hands off and giggle when I say "There she is!" You love your cupboard in the kitchen where you can empty all of the plastic containers onto the floor and watch me put them away. You walk sometimes, not always, but when you do you grin uncontrollably because you know you are doing something BIG.
I love you more each day,
Mamama
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Alphabet sleeping
Hi my sweet girl,
Sleeping is always an event with a surprise beginning around here. You don't have a predictable bedtime, unless predictable can be defined as plus or minus an hour, and where you fall asleep is even more unpredictable. Sometimes you fall asleep on the living room floor, sometimes you fall asleep next to me in bed, sometimes you fall asleep in my arms in the rocking chair, but almost never do you fall asleep solo in your crib.
I know, in Mom School they told me that I'm supposed to teach you to fall asleep in your crib, even if it means you're crying forever. Usually I only use that as a tool to get you sleepy. I'll put you in your crib when I know you just need to cry for a bit to get good and tired, then I'll take you out after about five minutes and rock you or hold you until you drift off.
Before you could stand up I'd let you cry laying down, but when you're standing up in your crib, holding your arms out, I fall for the trap and pick you up. I reason that you're only this little for a short while, and it's an indulgence for myself as well as you.
The other mystery of every night is where you end up sleeping. Some nights I put you in your crib after you fall asleep. Then your Dadada falls asleep on the couch in front of the TV, because he knows I won't sleep with the TV on in the bedroom, and we all sleep stretched out in different places.
Then some nights, Dadada sleeps with me, or just you sleep with me, but the nights my heart loves most but my back likes least is ones like last night, when we all sleep in the same bed.
The night starts out with us all sleeping parallel, like I's. Then you shift in the middle of the night and we become an H or even an N. Last night I woke up at some pre-dawn hour and saw we were an upside-down A, your Dadada and I the angles and you the center cross. A bit later you started crying and I pulled you close. We became a V.
I know, at Mom School they said I shouldn't get you used to sleeping with me, but to them I stick out my tongue and say PPTHTTTT! You don't want to sleep with us every night and some nights I feel you just want to be close to us, that you need extra comfort, extra love. What's the harm in that? I'm reminded of a story my friend Stef once recounted about a mother-daughter pair who slept in the same bed, the mother's point being "Who wants to sleep alone?"
Tonight though, you fell asleep in the car on the way home from Nana's and we put you right into your crib. I'll see you in the morning, my love.
Mamama
Sleeping is always an event with a surprise beginning around here. You don't have a predictable bedtime, unless predictable can be defined as plus or minus an hour, and where you fall asleep is even more unpredictable. Sometimes you fall asleep on the living room floor, sometimes you fall asleep next to me in bed, sometimes you fall asleep in my arms in the rocking chair, but almost never do you fall asleep solo in your crib.
I know, in Mom School they told me that I'm supposed to teach you to fall asleep in your crib, even if it means you're crying forever. Usually I only use that as a tool to get you sleepy. I'll put you in your crib when I know you just need to cry for a bit to get good and tired, then I'll take you out after about five minutes and rock you or hold you until you drift off.
Before you could stand up I'd let you cry laying down, but when you're standing up in your crib, holding your arms out, I fall for the trap and pick you up. I reason that you're only this little for a short while, and it's an indulgence for myself as well as you.
The other mystery of every night is where you end up sleeping. Some nights I put you in your crib after you fall asleep. Then your Dadada falls asleep on the couch in front of the TV, because he knows I won't sleep with the TV on in the bedroom, and we all sleep stretched out in different places.
Then some nights, Dadada sleeps with me, or just you sleep with me, but the nights my heart loves most but my back likes least is ones like last night, when we all sleep in the same bed.
The night starts out with us all sleeping parallel, like I's. Then you shift in the middle of the night and we become an H or even an N. Last night I woke up at some pre-dawn hour and saw we were an upside-down A, your Dadada and I the angles and you the center cross. A bit later you started crying and I pulled you close. We became a V.
I know, at Mom School they said I shouldn't get you used to sleeping with me, but to them I stick out my tongue and say PPTHTTTT! You don't want to sleep with us every night and some nights I feel you just want to be close to us, that you need extra comfort, extra love. What's the harm in that? I'm reminded of a story my friend Stef once recounted about a mother-daughter pair who slept in the same bed, the mother's point being "Who wants to sleep alone?"
Tonight though, you fell asleep in the car on the way home from Nana's and we put you right into your crib. I'll see you in the morning, my love.
Mamama
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Befriending the green-eyed monster
Hi little one,
Someday when you are older, you will be able to match the feeling of jealousy with the word. Oddly enough, you're inheriting jealousy from me, not your father. He is one of the few Mexican men that isn't jealous, and I didn't think that I was either, but my roots are showing.
My first hint of jealousy is anger. Usually when I feel angry, underneath the anger is jealousy. I feel like someone else has something that I want, something that I think would make my life better, make me happier, and their life is better because they have this - whatever this is.
I see this in you, too. Your Dadada will hug me, and you scream from the floor. He's taking your Mamama away from you. Is this true? Not in the slightest, because really, although you don't know it, you want your parents to be happy together. I'm guessing you see this as a loss, a theft, because Dadada is getting my attention instead of you.
It's okay, my love, I do this all the time. I get jealous of others for having something I want - sometimes it's just the fact that they live by themselves and get to have all the quiet and solitude I used to enjoy. I don't want this all the time, because I miss you terribly if we're apart for a whole day, but sometimes I want to be by myself and I find it's impossible. I see someone else living by themselves and I want what I think they have. The funny thing about jealousy though, is it usually happens in both directions. The friend I envy because she lives alone probably envies me because I have you and your Dadada. I have a family, and she wants that.
I also get jealous of friends that are home all the time with their Ava's because they have that luxury of time I don't think I have in juggling work, you, Dadada, and a slice of time for me. But I would bet some of them are jealous that I have work to go to, that I'm not at home all the time. Maybe they are, maybe they're not. That's the thing about jealousy, you never know, but it messes everyone up just the same.
Jealousy can be more than just an irritation though. Jealousy, when used properly, can be really useful. Jealousy can be something like an alarm, signaling action. If I can look at jealousy as something to learn from rather than hide and avoid, maybe I can teach you about that too.
When I feel jealous of my friend with her own place, maybe instead of being bitter and angry, what my jealousy is really telling me is that I need some time to myself. I need a Julie Day and I need to ask for help in getting some time alone.
When I am jealous of others that have more time with their Ava's, maybe really what I need is to enjoy the time I have with you. On our days together I don't need to rush around doing errands that are of minor importance as long as we have milk in the refrigerator. We can just play on the living room floor and you can show me what you've learned since our last day together. Instead of feeling angry that we don't have enough time, when I'd be a nervous wreck if I wasn't working, I can be grateful for the time I do have.
As for you, my little pumpkin, I can tell you that your Dadada isn't taking anything away from you when he cuddles with me on the couch, really what he's giving you is happy parents. I don't expect this will make sense yet. What I can do though is work on my own jealousy and use it as a barometer rather than a mosquito bite, and maybe your jealousy will sort itself out too.
Someday when you are older, you will be able to match the feeling of jealousy with the word. Oddly enough, you're inheriting jealousy from me, not your father. He is one of the few Mexican men that isn't jealous, and I didn't think that I was either, but my roots are showing.
My first hint of jealousy is anger. Usually when I feel angry, underneath the anger is jealousy. I feel like someone else has something that I want, something that I think would make my life better, make me happier, and their life is better because they have this - whatever this is.
I see this in you, too. Your Dadada will hug me, and you scream from the floor. He's taking your Mamama away from you. Is this true? Not in the slightest, because really, although you don't know it, you want your parents to be happy together. I'm guessing you see this as a loss, a theft, because Dadada is getting my attention instead of you.
It's okay, my love, I do this all the time. I get jealous of others for having something I want - sometimes it's just the fact that they live by themselves and get to have all the quiet and solitude I used to enjoy. I don't want this all the time, because I miss you terribly if we're apart for a whole day, but sometimes I want to be by myself and I find it's impossible. I see someone else living by themselves and I want what I think they have. The funny thing about jealousy though, is it usually happens in both directions. The friend I envy because she lives alone probably envies me because I have you and your Dadada. I have a family, and she wants that.
I also get jealous of friends that are home all the time with their Ava's because they have that luxury of time I don't think I have in juggling work, you, Dadada, and a slice of time for me. But I would bet some of them are jealous that I have work to go to, that I'm not at home all the time. Maybe they are, maybe they're not. That's the thing about jealousy, you never know, but it messes everyone up just the same.
Jealousy can be more than just an irritation though. Jealousy, when used properly, can be really useful. Jealousy can be something like an alarm, signaling action. If I can look at jealousy as something to learn from rather than hide and avoid, maybe I can teach you about that too.
When I feel jealous of my friend with her own place, maybe instead of being bitter and angry, what my jealousy is really telling me is that I need some time to myself. I need a Julie Day and I need to ask for help in getting some time alone.
When I am jealous of others that have more time with their Ava's, maybe really what I need is to enjoy the time I have with you. On our days together I don't need to rush around doing errands that are of minor importance as long as we have milk in the refrigerator. We can just play on the living room floor and you can show me what you've learned since our last day together. Instead of feeling angry that we don't have enough time, when I'd be a nervous wreck if I wasn't working, I can be grateful for the time I do have.
As for you, my little pumpkin, I can tell you that your Dadada isn't taking anything away from you when he cuddles with me on the couch, really what he's giving you is happy parents. I don't expect this will make sense yet. What I can do though is work on my own jealousy and use it as a barometer rather than a mosquito bite, and maybe your jealousy will sort itself out too.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Rock, Rock, Till You Drop
My little one,
You have not made up your mind about walking yet. In theory, you think it is a great idea, adding to your mobility and ability to get to and empty the rubbermaid cabinet more quickly, but in practice, you do not think it's everything big people make it out to be. There is a big advantage to your monkey-scoot, you reason, as it doesn't involve the intricate balance of moving your feet synchronously as you try not to fall down. No matter, you'll be there soon enough.
What you do love, however, is climbing into the big, wooden, grown-up rocking chair in the living room and rocking furiously as if it will get you to Christmas quicker.
This all started last Saturday, when it was hot in San Francisco, which nearly never happens in July, and I had you stripped down to a diaper mid-day instead of the usual mid-summer snowsuit.
You monkey-scooted over to the rocking chair, and pausing only momentarily to see if I was really watching you (I was), grabbed onto the arm of the chair, swung one leg up onto the seat, then hauled up your tummy, and yes, to be certain, you were on the rocking chair. You sat down as if you'd done this a million times, leaned forward, and started rocking back and forth, laughing all the way.
I helped you get down that first time, and once earlier today when you though you should scoot your behind to the edge of the chair and jump down, instead of coming off the chair backwards like some kind of sane baby (that must be an oxymoron). As you were about to belly-flop onto the hardwood floor I caught you, spiderman-like a centimeter from the floor. You cried anyway, perhaps because you were looking forward to the belly flop and I, in my haste to save you, ruined a wonderful belly flop.
You mount the rocking chair at least three times a day, from what I can see, and I watch, laugh, and think what a big girl you're becoming...
All my love,
Now and forever,
Mamama
You have not made up your mind about walking yet. In theory, you think it is a great idea, adding to your mobility and ability to get to and empty the rubbermaid cabinet more quickly, but in practice, you do not think it's everything big people make it out to be. There is a big advantage to your monkey-scoot, you reason, as it doesn't involve the intricate balance of moving your feet synchronously as you try not to fall down. No matter, you'll be there soon enough.
What you do love, however, is climbing into the big, wooden, grown-up rocking chair in the living room and rocking furiously as if it will get you to Christmas quicker.
This all started last Saturday, when it was hot in San Francisco, which nearly never happens in July, and I had you stripped down to a diaper mid-day instead of the usual mid-summer snowsuit.
You monkey-scooted over to the rocking chair, and pausing only momentarily to see if I was really watching you (I was), grabbed onto the arm of the chair, swung one leg up onto the seat, then hauled up your tummy, and yes, to be certain, you were on the rocking chair. You sat down as if you'd done this a million times, leaned forward, and started rocking back and forth, laughing all the way.
I helped you get down that first time, and once earlier today when you though you should scoot your behind to the edge of the chair and jump down, instead of coming off the chair backwards like some kind of sane baby (that must be an oxymoron). As you were about to belly-flop onto the hardwood floor I caught you, spiderman-like a centimeter from the floor. You cried anyway, perhaps because you were looking forward to the belly flop and I, in my haste to save you, ruined a wonderful belly flop.
You mount the rocking chair at least three times a day, from what I can see, and I watch, laugh, and think what a big girl you're becoming...
All my love,
Now and forever,
Mamama
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
These Feets Were Made For Walkin'
Hi kitten,
Every day you are getting bolder in literally stepping away from your supports. I am awed by your sudden confidence, boldness, in turning away from the chair that supports you and toddling about on your own two feet.
You walk a little like Frankenstein, wobbly but with determination and confidence that grows with every step. I am amazed that last Friday you were pushing a stool around as an improvised walker, and today you turn away from it and walk to the center of the room, taking one, two, three, four, five, six, and maybe seven steps until your knees shake and you realize you're really WALKING and you plop to the ground.
You keep trying though, letting go of each support, walking towards me, walking away from me. You are teaching me to never give up.
love,
your mamama
Every day you are getting bolder in literally stepping away from your supports. I am awed by your sudden confidence, boldness, in turning away from the chair that supports you and toddling about on your own two feet.
You walk a little like Frankenstein, wobbly but with determination and confidence that grows with every step. I am amazed that last Friday you were pushing a stool around as an improvised walker, and today you turn away from it and walk to the center of the room, taking one, two, three, four, five, six, and maybe seven steps until your knees shake and you realize you're really WALKING and you plop to the ground.
You keep trying though, letting go of each support, walking towards me, walking away from me. You are teaching me to never give up.
love,
your mamama
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
A beautiful butterfly
Hi my sweet girl,
When I was about four months pregnant, I went out to Colorado to visit your Grandma Jenny. We went shopping at the Carter's store picking out various clothes in gender-neutral colors because your Dadada and I didn't know whether you were a boy or a girl. We didn't want to know, and during the ultrasound at 11 weeks, you didn't want us to know either because you crossed your legs so the nurse couldn't see.
So your Grandma Jenny and I had a pile of clothes, some even in pale blue, when I saw this pink onesie with a butterfly and the text "A Beautiful Butterfly" in a 9 month size. I had to have it.
See, I knew, deep down in my gut and instinct knew you were a girl. I had dreams of you being a girl, when I imagined you talking to me from the womb, you had a girl's voice, I just knew.
We had one outfit that was dark blue and when we got to the register I couldn't buy it. I couldn't picture you in a boy outfit.
Up until the last month of my pregnancy, I knew you were a girl, but then doubt penetrated my intuition. As we grew nearer and then passed my due date of 3/27, I had to have another ultrasound and this time your Dadada and I said the nurse could tell us your gender.
"I can tell, are you sure you want to know?" the nurse asked us.
"Yes."
"I can see...labia."
You were a girl, I knew it.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
First solo flight
My little one,
Last night was rough. The night started off deceptively easy as you fell asleep in my arms as Dadada and I were watching "Honeymoon in Vegas" on TV. I felt the utter and complete peace that washes over me when you rest your head against my chest and doze off. This bliss is only surpassed by the fabulous hormone rush when you were still nursing that could put us both to sleep.
But then, you were awake off and on for the next couple hours, at one point screaming out for five minutes with your eyes shut. I blame that pesky new tooth, because it's a convenient nemesis for my blame, but after we watched you scream forever, I got the Tylenol ready while your Dadada picked you up. Even in sleep, I reasoned, you shouldn't have to be in so much pain.
After that, you slept for a bit longer in your crib, but when you woke again a couple hours later, I pulled you into bed with me. You were on fire, my love, and not in a good way. Your little body could have heated our whole house. I thought twice that I should put a pillow on the other side of you, just in case you started your typical wild rolling, but didn't do anything about it.
Yes, I lived to regret that. Sometime in the middle of the night, you rolled over and plummeted to the floor and started screaming. I wanted to join you in screaming, believe me! I felt completely awful, hugging you close to me, vowing to not let you fall again. If only I had followed my instincts!
I put you back in my bed, knowing there was no way you would sleep in your crib tonight, putting a couple pillows and a rolled up blanket on the other side of you. You tossed and turned and there was pretty much no way I would fall asleep for fear you'd roll over the pillows and onto the floor again.
Finally, I came up with a solution that would keep you from rolling off, but gave me the worst backache I've had in a while. I put us both on the hard yellow couch in your room, you on the inside, me on the out, and we slept like that for the rest of the night.
At 8AM we both woke, and I felt like some giant person had sat on me in the middle of the night.
Now it's nearly noon, and you could use a nap, I could use a nap, but as I started to open my laptop, I just witnessed your first solo flight, little fledgling. You were holding onto the table leg, facing away from me, and you let go, taking one...two...three...four steps all by yourself.
Tears moistened my eyes as I watched these steps. I felt so honored, that on this sleep-deprivation Sunday, I just witnessed your first solo flight.
Now you have fallen asleep in my lap as I've been typing one handed. Those four steps are enough to tire you out, and I'm going to gently put you down in your crib, not on my bed, because I got the lesson at 3AM.
love always,
Mamama
Last night was rough. The night started off deceptively easy as you fell asleep in my arms as Dadada and I were watching "Honeymoon in Vegas" on TV. I felt the utter and complete peace that washes over me when you rest your head against my chest and doze off. This bliss is only surpassed by the fabulous hormone rush when you were still nursing that could put us both to sleep.
But then, you were awake off and on for the next couple hours, at one point screaming out for five minutes with your eyes shut. I blame that pesky new tooth, because it's a convenient nemesis for my blame, but after we watched you scream forever, I got the Tylenol ready while your Dadada picked you up. Even in sleep, I reasoned, you shouldn't have to be in so much pain.
After that, you slept for a bit longer in your crib, but when you woke again a couple hours later, I pulled you into bed with me. You were on fire, my love, and not in a good way. Your little body could have heated our whole house. I thought twice that I should put a pillow on the other side of you, just in case you started your typical wild rolling, but didn't do anything about it.
Yes, I lived to regret that. Sometime in the middle of the night, you rolled over and plummeted to the floor and started screaming. I wanted to join you in screaming, believe me! I felt completely awful, hugging you close to me, vowing to not let you fall again. If only I had followed my instincts!
I put you back in my bed, knowing there was no way you would sleep in your crib tonight, putting a couple pillows and a rolled up blanket on the other side of you. You tossed and turned and there was pretty much no way I would fall asleep for fear you'd roll over the pillows and onto the floor again.
Finally, I came up with a solution that would keep you from rolling off, but gave me the worst backache I've had in a while. I put us both on the hard yellow couch in your room, you on the inside, me on the out, and we slept like that for the rest of the night.
At 8AM we both woke, and I felt like some giant person had sat on me in the middle of the night.
Now it's nearly noon, and you could use a nap, I could use a nap, but as I started to open my laptop, I just witnessed your first solo flight, little fledgling. You were holding onto the table leg, facing away from me, and you let go, taking one...two...three...four steps all by yourself.
Tears moistened my eyes as I watched these steps. I felt so honored, that on this sleep-deprivation Sunday, I just witnessed your first solo flight.
Now you have fallen asleep in my lap as I've been typing one handed. Those four steps are enough to tire you out, and I'm going to gently put you down in your crib, not on my bed, because I got the lesson at 3AM.
love always,
Mamama
Saturday, July 23, 2005
PB&J and Milk
Hello my sweet girl,
This week you've eaten pb&j sandwiches at least four times. I wonder if there's some legal dietary constraint mandating that pb&j must be consumed no more than three times in a week or they, whomever they are, are going to haul me off to the dietary detention facility. I swear it's been whole grain bread, the jelly is lower-sugar fruit spread, and the pb contains only peanuts, not all those ingredients I can't pronounce. Maybe they'll take it easy on me.
You made me laugh though, because after you ate one of your pb&j bites you would reach your arms out, as if you reached just a little bit further you could possibly grab your sippy cup of milk that was at least two feet away.
When I handed it to you, you drank mightly, as if you hadn't seen liquid in months, and let out this fabulous gasp, Aaaaahhhhhh! That was obviously the best milk cows have ever made.
love always,
your Mamama
This week you've eaten pb&j sandwiches at least four times. I wonder if there's some legal dietary constraint mandating that pb&j must be consumed no more than three times in a week or they, whomever they are, are going to haul me off to the dietary detention facility. I swear it's been whole grain bread, the jelly is lower-sugar fruit spread, and the pb contains only peanuts, not all those ingredients I can't pronounce. Maybe they'll take it easy on me.
You made me laugh though, because after you ate one of your pb&j bites you would reach your arms out, as if you reached just a little bit further you could possibly grab your sippy cup of milk that was at least two feet away.
When I handed it to you, you drank mightly, as if you hadn't seen liquid in months, and let out this fabulous gasp, Aaaaahhhhhh! That was obviously the best milk cows have ever made.
love always,
your Mamama
Friday, July 22, 2005
Water Fun
Hi my little love,
You just took a bath, preceeded, of course, by the "someone is going to get a bath" and "naked baby dance" songs. I think you know these songs mean you're going to get a bath since I've sung them to you from the time you started taking baths after your umbilical cord stump was eased off by your doctor.
Now you have a cute belly button where that cord used to be, but as usual, I digress.
This week your cousins Jonathan (9) and Destiny (6) arrived from SoCal to hang out with your Nana and our tribe of three. You've had a busy week with them - we went to the Zoo on Tuesday where the prarie dogs have replaced the penguins as your favorite animals. I took you out of your stroller and you kept pulling yourself up and tapping on the plexiglass that separated them from you. Your cousin Jonathan loved the lions best, especially because he got to see them eat lunch, and we're still not sure what Destiny liked best.
Today you, me, your Dadada, the cousins, Jacque, Tina, Brianna, and Brooke all went to waterworld where you & I hung out on the grass while the others went off to partake of the waterslides. We were bored soon enough, me more than you, as you were entertained by climbing up onto the plastic lounge chair, scooting up and down the length, then climbing off onto the ground. You did this numerous times until I finally said we were going to grab and innertube and float along the Lazy River ride.
As soon as we got situated, where I was laying across the tube with my bottom touching the water, you riding on my stomach, we had more fun than should be legal. You screamed everytime we got splashed by some errant kid, but for the most part, you loved watching the world float by from Mamama's tummy. We tried this again after lunch, but it didn't fare as well because I couldn't get off of the inner tube without sending both of us underwater. I wanted to scream, but you screamed enough for the two of us! A couple more years and you'll love the water park, but for now, the bathtub is really all you need for guaranteed water fun.
You have been quite the climber for the last couple weeks. You have mastered the art of mounting and dismounting your trusty wooden steed, and also your little tyke tricycle. Your feet can't quite touch the ground from the trike yet, but if enthusiasm could power those wheels, you would be out of the house and down the block by now.
You're still putting everything possible in your mouth, but we did just figure out that you're growing a new tooth. It's not one of those giant baby molars you grew four of a couple months ago, but it's one on top between the four teeth on top and that molar - one of the bicuspids for sure. Your Dadada and I were really relieved to see that a tooth was the cause of your utter misery last night because when I say you were not yourself, I mean that it was like someone replaced my happy pleasant little girl with one who cries all the time and cannot be consoled by anything. We were also blaming the full moon, which we do whenever there is one around to blame, but I was relieved to see a tooth peek its painful spikes through your tender gums. Growing teeth is hard business!
Now, you are thinking about mounting your trusty steed, but really you're trying to see what I'm doing on my computer which is my cue to post and sign off.
I love you, my little one, today and always.
Mamama
You just took a bath, preceeded, of course, by the "someone is going to get a bath" and "naked baby dance" songs. I think you know these songs mean you're going to get a bath since I've sung them to you from the time you started taking baths after your umbilical cord stump was eased off by your doctor.
Now you have a cute belly button where that cord used to be, but as usual, I digress.
This week your cousins Jonathan (9) and Destiny (6) arrived from SoCal to hang out with your Nana and our tribe of three. You've had a busy week with them - we went to the Zoo on Tuesday where the prarie dogs have replaced the penguins as your favorite animals. I took you out of your stroller and you kept pulling yourself up and tapping on the plexiglass that separated them from you. Your cousin Jonathan loved the lions best, especially because he got to see them eat lunch, and we're still not sure what Destiny liked best.
Today you, me, your Dadada, the cousins, Jacque, Tina, Brianna, and Brooke all went to waterworld where you & I hung out on the grass while the others went off to partake of the waterslides. We were bored soon enough, me more than you, as you were entertained by climbing up onto the plastic lounge chair, scooting up and down the length, then climbing off onto the ground. You did this numerous times until I finally said we were going to grab and innertube and float along the Lazy River ride.
As soon as we got situated, where I was laying across the tube with my bottom touching the water, you riding on my stomach, we had more fun than should be legal. You screamed everytime we got splashed by some errant kid, but for the most part, you loved watching the world float by from Mamama's tummy. We tried this again after lunch, but it didn't fare as well because I couldn't get off of the inner tube without sending both of us underwater. I wanted to scream, but you screamed enough for the two of us! A couple more years and you'll love the water park, but for now, the bathtub is really all you need for guaranteed water fun.
You have been quite the climber for the last couple weeks. You have mastered the art of mounting and dismounting your trusty wooden steed, and also your little tyke tricycle. Your feet can't quite touch the ground from the trike yet, but if enthusiasm could power those wheels, you would be out of the house and down the block by now.
You're still putting everything possible in your mouth, but we did just figure out that you're growing a new tooth. It's not one of those giant baby molars you grew four of a couple months ago, but it's one on top between the four teeth on top and that molar - one of the bicuspids for sure. Your Dadada and I were really relieved to see that a tooth was the cause of your utter misery last night because when I say you were not yourself, I mean that it was like someone replaced my happy pleasant little girl with one who cries all the time and cannot be consoled by anything. We were also blaming the full moon, which we do whenever there is one around to blame, but I was relieved to see a tooth peek its painful spikes through your tender gums. Growing teeth is hard business!
Now, you are thinking about mounting your trusty steed, but really you're trying to see what I'm doing on my computer which is my cue to post and sign off.
I love you, my little one, today and always.
Mamama
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Who's the fairest?
Right now, my little girl, you are swinging your hips to Hall and Oats "Out of Time" while holding onto the pole of a floor-to-ceiling lamp. There's a mirror in front of you, and I swear you are kissing your reflection.
One of your favorite things to do is find your Dadada's camelback water pack and drink out of the blue straw tube. I don't believe you're always thirsty, but you can never be too hydrated.
You stands in moments, solid for about ten seconds before falling backwards onto your behind or forward to grab onto something. Balance, you are learning about balance. You watched me do a yoga half moon pose and started laughing. I bet it did look really funny to see me balancing on one foot, one arm, with my other appendages up in the air. I was shaky too, I'm also learning about balannce.
One of your favorite things to do is find your Dadada's camelback water pack and drink out of the blue straw tube. I don't believe you're always thirsty, but you can never be too hydrated.
You stands in moments, solid for about ten seconds before falling backwards onto your behind or forward to grab onto something. Balance, you are learning about balance. You watched me do a yoga half moon pose and started laughing. I bet it did look really funny to see me balancing on one foot, one arm, with my other appendages up in the air. I was shaky too, I'm also learning about balannce.
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