She still needs Daddy....

Here is a recent exchange between Drew and Rachel:

Drew: Can you give Daddy a kiss, Rachel?
Rachel: No.
(Drew makes a sad face).
Rachel, visibly distressed: No, Daddy, I need you!!
(Drew thought she was trying to make the point that just because she didn't give him a kiss didn't mean she doesn't still love him and need him!)

Another exchange:
Drew makes a sad face.
Rachel, visibly distressed: No sad, Daddy! Be happy!

Drew was very impressed by her emotional acuity.

Molly's here!

Molly and the kids got here Sunday morning and oh, what fun we've been having! Calvin, Camilla, Marigold and Rachel played together while Drew supervised and Molly and I talked; then Molly's ex-husband picked up the kids and we spent the rest of the day doing...what, I can't remember. It was three days ago but feels like forever!

Yesterday Drew took Rachel to school while I took Molly shopping. She introduced me to a very cute kids' boutique called Bella Stella; between this place and Target I found several great, cheap raincoats I could have bought Rachel for this winter if only I had known! Instead we got a free Lands End jacket from a friend of ours. So I can't really justify buying yet another coat.

She and I also went to Powell's where I bought two books; even though I was loath to spend money I am constitutionally unable to walk into Powell's without walking out with a book. Or three. I think there's a book-buying drug they put in the air.

Then today we all drove Rachel to daycare, then continued south to Eugene where Molly used to live and where Drew lived briefly years ago. We dropped Molly off to visit a friend of hers, then Drew and I had a great lunch at Zenon Cafe, a favorite of ours for the desserts (although mine was just so-so). We went to a bookstore near the University of Oregon campus and we bought two more books, including a complete four-volume set of the Madeline books for Rachel -- for only $10! I can't wait until she's ready for me to read them to her!

Then we got back to daycare late (arghh...I hate this blasted rain, it makes driving impossible), swung by the law school to pick up some soup I had left in the office fridge, then home. Molly is asleep upstairs, Drew is putting Rachel to sleep and later I am going to make some hot chocolate and schnapps while Drew builds a fire. All in all, should be a lovely evening!

Back online!

..thanks to Drew, who ordered us a new modem and installed it tonight. Thanks, Drew!!

We've been having a fun, lazy two days -- getting up late, eating leisurely breakfasts, playing with Rachel (Drew), running around doing errands (me, including the most boring errand imaginable -- buying new BRAS, but it had to be done, my old ones are too big now that I've lost weight), cooking dinner at home, putting Rachel to bed (Drew again), cleaning up and de-cluttering the house (me) and watching movies at night.

I could totally get used to this life.

Rachel startled us both last night by announcing, "It's 9 o'clock." Neither of us commented on the time; when did she learn how to read a clock??

We had a late Hanukkah last night, since Drew had a hankering for latkes. I made seven and they turned out perfectly. And Rachel LOVED Drew's gift of a baby doll with a stroller. She has put Dolly (that's its name; I asked) in the stroller and wheeled her (him? it?) all over the house multiple times already. Dolly has a seat at the kitchen table (near the window that looks out onto the driveway) and Rachel tried to feed her some ravioli tonight. When I walked into the bedroom just now, Rachel was sitting in the glider, Drew was next to her reading a story and Dolly was in her stroller. "She's naken!" Rachel announced proudly, and it's true, Dolly was missing the little pink baby pajamas she came with. I think she is fated to be naked as long as Rachel owns her. (If I were Mom, I would have sewed an entire wardrobe for her by now, but I have forgotten all the sewing skills I fleetingly acquired in 7th grade home ec class).

Rachel discovers adjectives

Today we headed in to daycare after my dentist's appointment -- Drew ended up dropping Rachel off at Dr. McKeel's and I took her to Salem.

On the way, she said, "Daddy gave me Rice Krispies!"
"Really, Rachel?" I said.
"Yeah," she answered. "Out of the box!"
"The big box?" I said.
"Yeah!" she replied. "It was HUGE!"

More Zoolights

During the train ride, I told Drew that he was a good dad.
"I hope so," he said. "I've missed a lot."
"You can't make it up to her, you know," I replied.
"But I'll spend the rest of my life trying," he said.

Zoolights!

Against my better judgment, we took Rachel to see "Zoolights" last night. I say "Against my better judgment" because it was after our commute from Salem, which I had hoped to do earlier in the day, but at 4:15 (the time I got back from my office after doing a lot of running around on dumb errands) the dean, the associate dean, the alumni relations director and one of the admin assistants were in the dean's office drinking wine, and what could I do?? So I joined them and we had a nice long conversation until around 5:40 p.m. or so, when I looked at my watch, hurriedly gathered everything together and dashed out the door.

So I asked Drew whether he wanted to see Zoolights last night or tonight. "Zoolights" is a beautiful light display at the Oregon Zoo up in Portland, and I was dying to take Rachel to it because I thought she'd really get something out of it. But it was late, and I was tired, and I was hoping Drew would say tonight instead of last night.

But he suggested last night, so I raced Rachel out of daycare and into the car, drove all the way to zoo only to discover a sign saying "parking full" and directing me to a remote lot where we had to wait for a shuttle. After navigating her heavy stroller down a hill (Drew had already gotten to the zoo and miraculously found a parking spot in the main lot. Residual Parking Goddess magic?). And after I got Rachel's stroller down the hill there was a ginormous line to wait for the shuttle. AND it was cold, AND Rachel had just woken up from a nap, and the diaper bag was killing my back and she hadn't eaten dinner...and I thought of skipping the whole thing.

But you know what? I stuck with it, standing on line because I told myself that sometimes you just have to suck it up in life, and it turned out Okay. Rachel started sobbing when I stood her next to her stroller but cheered up immensely after she realized she was on a BUS (and a yellow SCHOOL BUS, at that; we could've skipped the light show and just stayed on the bus the whole time, I'm sure) and stopped crying immediately. Drew was waiting for us at the shuttle stop and had gotten through the long line of ticket buyers to buy us tickets.

And when we went in, we saw a fairyland! Not a single religious display, but lots and lots and lots and lots of lights on trees, bushes, coffee stands (decorated to look like gingerbread houses), buildings, etc. And the best part was we got to ride the Zoo Train! It's a 15-minute train ride throughout the zoo and all the outdoor habitat areas were encased in lights representing animals (tigers in the tiger area, kangaroos in the marsupial areas, etc.). Some of the displays were moving, like the one that had gazelles jumping over a hump or ants marching in line. Rachel sat on Drew's lap and just took it all in. Before we boarded the train she wanted to touch every single light she encountered, and during the train ride I swear I could see the glow of the lights reflected in her little face. "I rode a train, Jennifer!" she said, practicing telling her daycare teacher about the experience.

We got her home way too late -- she wasn't in bed until 10:30 -- and except for half a granola bar that I offered her, she never ended up having dinner.

But it was so worth it.

A morning in the life

It occurred to me this morning that I spend a lot of blog posts writing about little snippets of Rachel's day without giving all of you a true picture of what it's truly like. So, here is a sampling of a typical weekday:

I wake up, usually on time to get us out of the house by 8.
I lie in bed thinking about how my life has changed from a year ago.
I get up, turn on my Smartphone and check for messages, make the bed, load the car -- with my work bag, my purse, Rachel's lunch, my yogurt and granola, and turn on the water for tea.
I shower, put makeup on, rescue the screaming teakettle, pour the tea into my "Willamette University" mug, get dressed, take out the coat I'm going to wear that day, then wake Rachel up.

Rachel is often cheerful in the morning but sometimes grumbly. Today she said, "I want to stay in my bed." I was very sympathetic. "I want to stay in my bed, too, sweetie, but Mommy needs to go to work, and you need to go to school," I said firmly.
We cuddle in the glider and then Rachel always insists on "one BOOK." So, I read whatever she wants. Then she wants to cuddle. And cuddle. And cuddle. And eventually I have to put a stop to it, which I hate.
I swing her from side to side and she laughs like a maniac. Then I put her on the changing table and let her choose what she wants to wear that day. Sometimes the clothes (always pants and a shirt) vaguely match. Most of the time they don't.
Then I put her on the floor and tell her to choose socks and shoes. She has a knack for choosing socks that have nothing to do with what she's wearing. I think briefly of explaining to the folks at daycare that I don't have as bad taste as they may think I do. Then I reject that idea.
Rachel insists on doing a headstand in my lap. "Rachel, NO!" I say despairingly, but we HAVE to do this every morning. It's part of the routine. The world would end if we didn't.
I ask her to give me her pacifiers (she routinely keeps two with her, just in case her stuffed animals decide to hide one of them).
She hands them over and I stuff them in the clothes basket.
We go into the kitchen and she tells me to wear the pink raincoat I bought from L.L. Bean a few weeks ago because I desperately needed a full-length raincoat. "Because it's my favorite," she explains seriously, so I always wear it. Even if it looks like a Caribbean morning outside. The coat is her FAVORITE. Pretty soon she'll think my clothes are hopelessly out of date, so I need to seize this moment.
I ask her if she wants milk in the purple cup or green cup. She fakes me out and announces she wants milk in the pink cup.
I ask her if she wants Cheerios or Raisin Bran. She says Wheaties. I say we have none. She cheerfully says Raisin Bran.
I load her up in the car, hand her her bag of cereal, her tiny stuffed bunny and a book or two. It's now 30 minutes later than when I wanted to leave.

We head south on I-5. At the point that we enter the freeway, the sun (if it's sunny that day), shines right in Rachel's eye. "The sun is peeking over my EYE!" she announces delightedly. "Why IS that?"
I give whatever explanation pops into my head: The angle of the sun and the low buildings mean the sun hits her eyes and Mommy's, too.
Then she asks me to sing the Fire Truck Song, or the Changes Song (Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A'Changin') or the Follow Song ("Try To Remember" from the musical The Fantasticks; the lyrics contain the words "so follow, follow follow follow follow follow follow...) and I tell her to wait until Mommy has finished her yogurt and granola and tea.

And then it's singing and talking (her observing, me commenting) all the way to Salem.

Wonderful weekend

This weekend was a reminder of why I feel so lucky -- even though I'm no longer a newspaper writer and I'm earning less than I did even 7 months ago and my husband is away and sometimes I'm too tired to play with Rachel, which hurts me greatly.

Anyway. I'm lucky.

On Saturday we went to grocery store and spent much more than I thought we would -- it's the diapers and wipes that are killing us, folks. Rachel, could you please indicate a little more, um, active interest in using the potty? Thank you.

We got a late start (because we were tumbling on the rug in her room and I kept tickling her and then she tickled me and then I tickled her and then she climbed all over me and I was defeated) and got back just before we were scheduled to meet Doug and Linda and Jack and Andrew for a play and dinner and Christmas lights afterward. Result: The Little Girl skipped her nap entirely.

But she really liked the play, an hourlong production of Hansel and Gretel that was really more teen and adult-focused; the jokes ranged from WikiLeaks to Sarah Palin -- but Rachel was SO impressive! She laughed when the audience laughed and clapped when they did, and spent half the time sitting on my lap and the other half sitting in a seat next to me, clearly entranced by the live theater occurring in front of her. It was a lot of fun to watch, and I told Drew this morning that she may be ready for kids' theater (as long as it's not longer than an hour). Can't WAIT to start taking her to shows!!

We all trooped to a Thai restaurant for dinner, where Rachel refused to touch anything except jarred baby food (and, parenthetically, I am getting REALLY tired of lugging around her own rations, I feel like a newly arrived immigrant). It was cold and windy when we finished and I almost said no to Christmas lights at the Grotto, a religious display and chapel where my chorus has sung in past years, but finally figured, what the heck -- I should stop worrying about Rachel catching cold and just GO. And it was totally worth it! Lovely singing in the chapel (for which Rachel was wonderfully well-behaved; she figured out on her own that if she wanted to rummage through the diaper bag she needed to whisper her request) and gorgeous lights.

The next day our friend Amy came over with her boy Tony -- who Rachel adores -- and they had a great time. At one point Tony graciously took Rachel upstairs and they played while Amy and I actually had A GROWNUP CONVERSATION. After they left, I discovered that Tony had picked Rachel up and put her on the couch in the attic (I had asked her to rehearse beforehand: "Please, Tony, pick me up") and Tony left two "secret letters" for us on the blackboard: "Thank you" and "I love Rachle." Oh, wouldn't it be fantastic if they go to the prom together??

Then last night we headed over to my friend Miriam's house. Miriam used to live in the suburbs but now lives only 10 blocks away, near Grant Park, and we are already making plans to picnic there this summer during one of Portland Parks' free Concert in the Park series. My friend Deni, who is a grandmother but looks 10 years younger, was also there and both made a fuss over Rachel. We toured the fabulous house, which has been extensively renovated, and then sat down to dinner that all of us had contributed to. And all I can say is that Rachel was so self-possessed! She didn't keep interrupting me, she just ate her baby food (again), as well as some chocolate cake I gave her for dessert (and chocolate candy; yes, it was a very un-nutritional meal) but her face looked so cute smeared with chocolate that I couldn't resist. We all managed to have a fantastic talk until Rachel interrupted me: "Mommy, please change my diaper." I'd been having such a good time that I didn't even notice she'd pooped! Then a few minutes later she said, "Mommy, I want to go home." She had been so patient throughout all the grownup talk that I said sure (and it was way past her bedtime anyway), bundled her up and drove home. I got her down by 10.

And then I spent 20 minutes just sitting at the kitchen table, smiling, savoring the great weekend I'd had. I hope there are many more like these in our future!

She gave the applesauce a timeout

Rachel was frustrated yesterday at snacktime because her cup of applesauce kept slipping out of her little hands when she tried to close it.

"I give a timeout!" she said.
"Um, Rachel, did you just give your applesauce a TIMEOUT?" I asked, trying not to laugh. Too hard.

"It falling!" she said.

Then this morning she started yelling at Maisy, the mouse who makes gingerbread cookies. Usually she loves this book, but this morning she kept yelling at it. "No NO, Maisy!" she scolded.

I never did figure out what Maisy did wrong, but I bet Rachel gave her a timeout, too!

Future NYC commuter?

Looks as if Rachel has picked up on my impatience with traffic. This morning I was waiting to turn left from Broadway onto the highway and there were a bunch of cars ahead of me. (Keep in mind that I had to get to work by 9:15 to meet a photographer for a magazine interview at 9:30. So, I was a little anxious).

"C'mon, people," I said under my breath.

And then from the back seat, a little voice piped up:

"C'mon, people! I gotta get to school!"

I almost doubled over with laughter.

More Rachel soundbites

Folks, our modem is broken so I have no Internet connection at home. We're researching whether to stick with Qwest or try to get a better deal with Comcast, so these posts will be brief until I can spend more time with the blog at home.

Until then:

Yesterday while we were in the car, I tried to tell Rachel that I was little once, too.
"No, you big!" she said.
"Yes, but I was little once," I replied.
"No, you big once!" she said, visibly disturbed.
"No, Mommy was little," I said, trying again.
"NO!" she said. "You big to me!"
And then she started banging her picture book against her car seat.

***

We're reading a book about all different kinds of animals, which she absolutely loves. Last night I tried to tell her that she's a mammal.

"You're a mammal, Rachel!" I said.
"I not a mammal!" she replied. "I Rachel DEE-Silver!"
"OK, who am I?" I asked.
"You Mommy DEE-Silver!" she replied.
Looks like I've got a new name these days! Mommy DeSilver. I love it!

***
When we arrived home, we had our usual quick dinner and then I started cleaning up.
I asked her to help me clear the table and to bring her cup of milk (without a top) to the counter.
"I worried I spill!" she said, a worried look on her little face.
"Rachel, it's OK if you spill," I said reassuringly. "But I need you to help me."
"I don't WANT to!" she said, clearly anxious.
"Rachel, if you spill it'll be an ACCIDENT," I said.
"Mommy yell at me," she replied.
"Mommy won't yell at you," I said. "But I want you to at least try. Sometimes you never know if you can do something unless you try."
After some more back and forth, she brought the cup to the counter without spilling. I of course praised her lavishly but reassured her again that it's OK to spill.
Whereupon she immediately went back to the table and grabbed her empty plate.
"I can manage it," she said proudly. And she did!

great weekend!

Parenthetically, this is coming to you from my Smartphone because our ancient computer, which Drew refused to replace until it was too late and he left, now is no connecting or loading or whatever it is that computers do to work. Never again will I wait more than three years to replace a compter again.
Ok, rant over.

Rachel and I had a great weekend. Today we went to a gathering of the Chavurah, a group of people from our synagogue who are roughly in the same life circumstances as we are. At first I didn't want to go; it was raining outside and I got the banana bread in late and it just seemed like a haul.

But as always with these things, I'm really glad I went. Rachel made herself right at home after being a bit clingy when we first arrived. She found a toy shopping cart that the host later gifted to us because his girls had outgrown it, and I was actually able to meet new folks and talk to them. Later all the kids trooped upstairs to watch Toy Story 3 and when I went to check on Rachel I got engrossed in the movie as did she- - with occasional breaks to crawl all over me, peer into my face and say hi, and otherwise be adorable.

Some cute Rachelisms from the weekend:

Yesterday I was looking for a recipe to make an appetizer for a potluck at the law school this week. "What should I make, Rachel?" I mused aloud.
"I draw arecipe for you," she said. "Popsicle soup!"
"Wow Rachel!" I said. "What color is it?"
"White and black and other colors," she said.

***

"I can't wait until you're old enough for me to take you to the ballet," I said to her tonight. "We'll go to tea and the ballet, and Daddy can...catch a football game or whatever it is that men do."
"Daddy make chocolate chips!" She said.

***

She is READING, I'm sure of it! Tonight I was reading her a book called, "Red hat, blue hat," which I haven't. Read to her in ages, and after we were done she announced that SHE wanted to read it. Then she repeated almost exactly what one of the pages said: Red hat blue hat yellow hat greenc coat OOPS. I was so impressed!@@

Classic Drew

Drew and I would like to buy Rachel a play kitchen, since she loves the play kitchens her friends have when we visit them. I've been browsing Ikea, Craigslist, Toys 'R Us and Target, and I ran across one that was incredibly great-looking -- a retro, 1950s-style kitchen that is fire engine red. I believe it was also $175, which is way beyond my budget. But, hey, it looked really cool.

When I described it to Drew, he immediately replied, "I'm just not comfortable with Rachel having a play kitchen that's nicer than our real one."

Rachel soundbites

Because Portland is the only major American city to NOT fluoridate its water (don't even get me started on how backwards and primitive this makes us look, as if we needed any help...) I have to give Rachel fluoride drops and, later, pills, until she is 13 or so. She's actually quite good at taking the drops and even reminds me when I forget to give them to her..."DROPS!" she'll yell as I'm about to put her to bed.

For the last two weeks she has insisted on giving ME drops, too! She takes an empty bottle stopper, puts it into a kid's medicine syringe and hands it to me, and I obliginly put it into my mouth. She looks so pleased when I do. It has become our little nightly bedtime ritual. And, strangely, it leaves me feeling as if someone is taking care of me.

***

Tonight Rachel was whiny and fussy and sobby on the way home. At one point, while trying to have a conversation with Drew on the phone, I turned my head and yelled, "STOP IT!" She started crying really hard, which eventually devolved to little moans and sniffles. "Mommy, don't scream at me," she whimpered. You can imagine how awful I felt. I honestly hardly ever yell at her, which is why she hates it so much when I do.

But she cheered up, and we chatted on the way home as we pulled into our neighborhood.

"I stopped crying because I happy now," she said.
"Good, Rachel!" I said. "I'm glad you're happy!"

***

She really loves a plastic doll at daycare that she sometimes takes home. Drew has gotten her a large baby doll with its own stroller, but I'm thinking of getting her a smaller one that she can carry around. I watched her carry it from daycare to the car; she handles it like a football. Guess she's not quite ready yet for babysitting.

***

"I like fireworks!" she said tonight as we passed several houses with Christmas lights.
"I thought you HATED fireworks!" I said.
"I want fireworks for my birthday," she answered.
"Really?" I laughed.
"I want a birthday party," she said.
"What kind of birthday party?" I asked.
"Brown and red and blue and orange," she replied.

And that ended the conversation because, really, what could I add?

"Excuse me?"

Rachel started saying what sounded like a very rude "WHAT?" a couple of weeks ago when she couldn't hear or understand what I was saying. It sounded unpleasant to my ears so I am teaching her to say "excuse me?" instead. (Along with the usual "may I please have..." and "thank you." She's quite good about the "thank you" but needs to work on the "may I please" instead of "I want...").

It makes me realize how much I say "WHAT?" instead of "excuse me." So, looks like I need to change my bad habits, too!

She really impressed me tonight when she said at one point, "excuse me?" instead of "what?" I could tell she was almost going to say "what?" but then thought better of it.

She loves her daddy

This morning I wore a locket with Drew's picture in it, and Rachel as usual tried to open it. I, of course, am the one who always opens it, and I always say, "I need to put a picture of Rachel on the other side."

"Rachel and MOMMY," she says, firmly.

When I opened the locket today, she took it in her little hands, looked at the picture of Drew, and kissed it.

I think she's ready for him to come home.

LIGHTS!

That's what Rachel yells out every night after we turn into our street. She LOVES the Christmas lights.

"Christmas tree!" she said delightedly last night.

"Look dere," she said. "And dere! And dere!'

"Do you see it? Do you see it??" she demanded tonight.

Oh, what a delight awaits her this weekend. I'm going to take her to the Grotto, a Christmas light extravaganza, with Linda and the kids. And then when Drew gets home, we'll take Rachel to Zoolights -- the Oregon Zoo, all lit up, and we can take a choo-choo ride around the zoo, and see all the animals, and Mommy will make sure to pack homemade hot chocolate in a warm Thermos so the outing will be cozy and warm...

I was talking to Drew as I took an extra turn around the block tonight and he remarked how wonderful it is that Rachel is discovering everything for the first time, and I seconded that, saying that now I finally understand (now that Rachel is old enough to actually take joy in something) when parents say that children remind us how to have fun and we get to find out everything again through their eyes.

It reminded me of a story a former colleague with a daughter about Rachel's age posted on Facebook not long ago. Helen was driving Tessa home from preschool, and Tessa was hungry, and Helen fished around in her purse and came up with two broken-up cookies. "Moon cookies!" Tessa said delightedly. No, she didn't notice that the cookies were broken. She just saw what she wanted to see.

"That's why I love my daughter with all my heart," Helen wrote, and I couldn't agree more.

"Because WHY?"

Yes, we've entered that exasperating phase of toddler-hood when statements start to be followed by, "Because WHY?" Drew is lucky he doesn't have to deal with most of it because he's so far away.

I have taught Rachel to expect the reply, "because I LOVE you" when her questions get too plentiful. And now she uses that phrase sometimes herself!

Here was tonight's conversation in the car as we approached the Terwillger Curves:
Me: Mommy's tired, Rachel.
Rachel: Because why?
Me: Because I was up late last night.
Rachel: Because why?
Me: Because a documentary film crew was interviewing me for a film they're making on the state of journalism today. (No, I am not making this up).
Rachel: Because why?
Me: Because they heard I was unjustly fired and they wanted to talk to me about it.
Rachel: Because why?
Me: Because it was a huge blow that changed my life to the way it is today.
Rachel: Oh.

The Hanukkah song

This post is in honor of Mom and Dad, who taught us a great upbeat Hanukkah song in Yiddish that we sang every night of Hanukkah when we were kids, and even well into adulthood. I won't even make an attempt at transliteration, but it ends with three cheers of, "Hip hip hooray for the Maccabees!"

This was the first year that Rachel really appreciated it. She LOVES this song. As I was lighting the 6th candle tonight, she actually started saying the prayer with me! She insists that we turn the lights off when I light the menorah and keep them off when we eat dinner. And when I start singing the Hanukkah song her face lights up, she starts smiling and laughing, and at the end she exclaims, "Sing it AGAIN!"

"No, I'M..."

Rachel's newest habit is saying SHE likes/SHE feels/SHE wants if I express interest/wants/needs desires. So our morning commute today went something like this:

Rachel said something to make me laugh -- can't for the life of me remember what it was -- and I said, "You're funny, Rachel!"
"No, I'M funny," she said.
"No, I'M funny," I said.
"No, I'M funny."
"No, I'M funny!"
"No, I'M funny!"
"We funny together," she concluded.

***

She is becoming quite the singer. Tonight, as I was talking to a friend on my Smartphone, Rachel started SINGING to herself in the backseat! She started with "Rise and Shine" and moved on to a couple of other songs.
"I like hearing you sing," I told her at the dinner table later on.
"I like your earrings," she replied (I didn't have any on at the time).
Thinking she hadn't heard me correctly, I said, "I like hearing you SING, Rachel!"
"I like your earrings," she repeated.
Hopefully she'll get the idea that I'd rather hear her sing than listen to my own voice all the time!

***

One of her current faves is a song I made up on an occasion I can't even remember -- probably when we saw a fire truck and she wanted me to sing about it. This has since turned into "The fire truck song" and the verses go like this:

Hurry hurry fire truck, hurry hurry fire truck, hurry hurry fire truck we've come to fight the fire!
Hurry hurry water tender, hurry hurry water tender, hurry hurry water tender we need to douse the flames
Hurry hurry ambulance, hurry hurry ambulance, hurry hurry ambulance there are people trapped inside
Hurry hurry firefighters hurry hurry firefighters, hurry hurry firefighters you need to rescue the people

..and for all you especially cynical people out there, the last verse is:

Hurry hurry politcians, hurry hurry politicians, hurry hurry politicians, you need a photo opportunity!
(The last verse is in honor of Ray Flyn, who was the mayor of Boston when I interned at the Boston Globe during the summer of 1987. He was genius for showing up at any and all house fires and other tragedies, for reasons I could never figure out).

Playdate with Sarah and Noah

Sarah, my former editor (for a short time) at the Oregonian who took a buyout and is now an accountant, came over this morning with her almost-4-year-old son, Noah. I gave Rachel a brief talk about sharing before he came, and she really was great -- didn't mind at all when he comandeered her toys. She was happy to play near him or join the women in the kitchen as we drank tea and talked.

We went upstairs and Rachel tried to get Noah to play with the plastic balls in the big tub. The fun ended when she got herself into the tub but bonked her head on the coffee table trying to get up. She needed lots of comforting and cuddling, which I was happy to do!

This morning over breakfast, she wanted me to sing to her. "Yellow submarine," she said. So I sang one verse of it, and then she asked for "Blue Submarine," and then I got inspired and sang, "We all live in a RACHEL submarine/a RACHEL submarine/a RACHEL submarine." She nearly doubled up laughing, she thought it was so hilarious.

Then she started singing on her own, "We all live in MOMMY submarine," and I started laughing. Then I suggested DADDY submarine, and then ultimately I ended up singing, "We all live in a RACHELandMOMMYandDADDY submarine" and she erupted into such a fit of laughter that it really became time to do something else.

Will someone out there remind Rachel, when she is old and bored and embarrassed by her parents, that once upon a time I could make her laugh so hard that I hoped she'd never stop? Please?

The Hanukkah Song

Mom and Dad always sang a song in Yiddish every night of Hanukkah, a song that ended with, "hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray for the Maccabees!"

I sang it last year but it didn't really register. What a difference 24 months makes! When I sang it for the first time the other night, Rachel was beside herself. She LOVED it. "Again!" her sweet little voice demanded, and I obliged. She loves it when I sign it in the car. And she even tries to sing it herself, but she can't get past the first two words: "Hanukkah, Hanukkah..."

Tonight I raced out of work after a longer-than-expected chat with the associate dean of the law school (a truly nice guy; I could have talked to him for another hour or so), grabbed Rachel from daycare and tossed her into the car seat without any Mommy cuddling -- all in order to get to a friend's house by 7 (we actually got there at 7:10 or so). Suzanne had invited us over because her sister-in-law was making LATKES, and since I have absolved myself of making them this year because it's just too much for a single mom to do (with the proviso that I will make them the first weekend Drew is home for winter break because he made a special request), I decided to take Rachel.

Suzanne is the mom of Lila, Rachel's little friend, and boy did those two have a time together! At first Rachel was a little shy, but then they ended up in Lila's room and we heard much laughter and dumping of Lego blocks. We all thought it would have been lovely to let them play all night so we could have adult conversation, but finally Steve (Suzanne's husband) told the girls that we were LIGHTING THE CANDLES and it was time to come out of Lila's room. Whereupon Rachel marched out in a pair of genuine wooden clogs from Holland (and she looked ADORABLE) and we lit the candles and said a prayer. Rachel swallowed a few mouthfuls of applesauce and challah, and then it was back to Lila's room. More laughter and some shrieking, and at one point Steve checked to see what was going on. Upon returning, he informed us that he wasn't allowed into the clubhouse.

We lured them out again with dessert (last night I baked peanut butter cookies with Hershey's kisses in the center) and Lila kept at the cookies -- with Rachel right behind -- until "big Rachel" (Steve's sister, who had made the latkes) took them away.

It was so cute watching Rachel and Lila together. Whatever one did, the other followed. Lila is a few months older and is regularly using the potty and wearing underwear. At one point she came back with her underpants down and I pulled them up and pulled on her pants. "Lila, you should tell Rachel that she should wear underwear," I said, not thinking she'd follow through. Sure enough, she came with me into the bathroom, where Rachel was waiting to use the potty (because Lila had used it just minutes earlier) and said earnestly, "Rachel, you should wear underwear." It was hard not to laugh.

At the end of the evening, Rachel generously gave hugs all around. Lila is a hugger, too -- she came right up to me, arms outstretched, in a completely unself-conscious way, to get her hug.

I hope our girls will continue to be great friends for a long, long time!

We have a chicken in our attic!

That's according to Rachel, who informed me of that this morning while I was singing "Farmer in the Dell." I had run out of words and she reminded me about the chicken laying the eggs. So I sang the whole phrase.

"I have a chicken upstairs," she said.
"Really, Rachel?" I answered. "What's it's name?
"Just chicken."
"What color is it?"
She didn't answer. Then: "You can play with my chicken upstairs."
Pause.
"You can play with my toys upstairs, too."

A colleague at work, who has what she describes as a "gentle" 18-month-boy, was not at all surprised to hear about this sweet side of Rachel. She thinks that girls are more nurturing than boys. She may be right!

***

As I was cuddling her in the rocker this morning she looked at me and said, "Rachel DeSilver! I like that name!"
"Well I'm glad, sweetie, because I like it too!" I replied.

***

Last night I took my contact lenses off and put my glasses on while I was getting Rachel ready for her bath. (This was after she pooped in the potty for real this time, rather than me rushing her to the potty while, um, she was in the middle of the act of pooping).
"You look beeoootiful in your sunglasses!" she said. I couldn't help but laugh. "Thank you, Rachel, you made my day!" I said.
This morning after I'd dressed her in black corduroys, a pink turtleneck and her preppy little L.L.Bean sweater ($4 at a resale shop in Salem), I couldn't help taking her picture.
"I look beeootiful!" she said proudly. Yes, she did!

***

She cleared almost all the dishes from the table tonight, even after complaining her dinner plate was "too heavy" for her to carry. "I think you can carry it, sweetie," I said, and a moment later she picked it up -- and made it all the way to the counter! OK, a couple of spoons fell off, but still, it was the effort that counted!

She also informed me earlier tonight that "I love to cuddle with Mommy!" which of course made my day. Then in the glider she suddenly said, "Big Kiss!" and so of course I had to smoosh her face with kisses. Then it was "Big Hug!" and I had to hug her very tight. Then I asked the same of her. Her hugs are definitely getting bigger and more long-lasting. Oh, if I could just spend an hour at night with her in the glider, cuddling, instead of racing into the kitchen and cleaning up and calling Drew and baking cookies for a Hanukkah celebration tomorrow and getting Rachel's lunch together and calling the handyman who was supposed to come over this week to look at some stuff around the house but couldn't make it because he was sick -- if I could truly push all that aside and snuggle with my daughter, I'd be one happy woman.

***

"You can go in the living room," she informed me last night as we were finishing up dinner. "You can play with my truck. You can make the animals go." (She has a farm truck that makes noise when you press the farmer's head). Oh, yeah, now I get where the whole fascination with farms comes from!

Farmer in the Dell

It's Rachel's favorite song these days. (What the heck is a "dell," anyway?). Last night we had the most delightful time at dinner as she sang the phrases she knows:

The farmer in the dell (2x)
High ho, the dairy-o,
the farmer in the dell

The farmer plants the corn (2x)
The farmer plows the field (2x)
The farmer takes a wife (2x) (Rachel prefers that the farmer take the wife before all the work starts, possibly because she knows he needs help!)
The cheese stands alone (2x) (my add)

This is a song that Rachel sings on the her own, without asking me to sing it first. So after she sang all the usual phrases she said, "what's next?" She wanted more words. So, I improvised...I threw out phrases and she immediately turned them into music!

We came up with:
The horse eats the grass
The sheep gives the wool
The cow gives her milk
The chicken lays her eggs

..and if anyone out there has any more farmlike phrases you want to share, jump right in!

"I READING, Mommy!"

Drew introduced Rachel (and, by extension, me) to "Go Dog Go," which was a favorite of his as a kid. I thought it was the stupidest book imaginable. As I explained at a baby shower, to much laughter, "there's no real narrative arc."

Turns out that's not exactly true. The book starts with simple words and phrases such as, "Dog." "Big dog." "Little dog. Big dogs and little dogs.." and ends up with a huge group of dogs on top of a tree at a dog party. It sounds completely ridiculous even as I write this, but trust me, it makes sense. The book has really grown on me and I'm glad Drew insisted on including it in Rachel's library.

I read it to her last night and she insisted on taking it to bed with her (this is becoming a regular occurrence). Today in the car on the way to school, she took it with her, opened it up on her lap and started READING! Well, probably not exactly, but she would turn to pages in the book and say almost exactly what was going on. "A dog on top of a house. Two dogs in the water." "Two dogs go in" (really, it was only one dog). "Dogs making music" (her interpretation of a picture of dogs in a boat, with one playing the guitar.

"I reading, Mommy!" she said delightedly. I was so impressed, I couldn't really say anything.

Longer conversations these days

Rachel and I are having quasi-adult conversations more and more these days. I look into her little face (which always looks tired to me, probably because of the bags under her eyes; or maybe I'm imagining things) and she looks more and more like a blend of Drew and me. And like her own person.

Tonight, as I was reading to her, I stroked her hair.
"Don't touch my hair!" she said.
"But I LOVE touching your hair!" I replied, reaching for her hair again.
She pushed my hand away.
"Don't!" she said. "Touch your OWN hair!"
I really should have scolded her for talking back to me. Instead, I nearly died laughing.

***

She answers now when I ask her how her day went. At dinner tonight I said, "What did you in school today, sweetie?"
"Play babies," she said.
"Really?"
"I say, 'I'm sorry babies, I have to lay down on my mat.'"

A bit later, she said cheerfully, "You can go in the living room. You can play with my truck and make the animals go."

***

When we were cuddling in the car before we left daycare, she said, apropos of nothing, "NO Jaxson! NO!" (Jaxson -- and yes, it is spelled that way -- is a kid in her class).
"Did Jaxson hit you?" I said.
"No. Jaxson cried."
"Why?"
"He wanted to go in the baby room."

Blue Sunday

Drew left early this morning -- the shuttle picked him up at 4:15 a.m., and I woke with a start at 3:45 a.m. (he was clomping around in his heavy boots) and got to the kitchen just to see the van pulling away. I went back to bed and it was a long, long time before I could get back to sleep. Result: I didn't wake up until 9:15 and poor Rachel didn't get up (i.e., I didn't get her out of her crib) until 10:15 a.m. Bad Mommy!

She glanced at me when I walked in and said, "where's Daddy?" and when I told her "he's in New York, sweetie," she pitched a fit, crying and yelling, and I had to cuddle her for a while to calm down. After that she was fine -- she toddled into the kitchen, picked up the box of Raisin Bran from the counter and handed it to me. (I swear this kid is gonna be making her own breakfast within the year). We had a nice meal and then my former colleague from the Oregonian, Janet Goetze, stopped by with gluten-free pumpkin pie. (I have a theory about pumpkin pie. I believe the same pie is making its way around the city as people grab the last few pieces of their Thanksgiving feast as a bid for hospitality when they visit during the holidays). Janet is a grandma and so she just let Rachel play around and occasionally interrupt us while we talked.

At 12:30 I bid goodbye and then got Rachel's diaper bag and clothing together. Then we hopped into the car and drove to West Linn to visit our friends John, Jo-Ann, Steve and Patt. More later...

Happy Thanksgiving!

Aside from the meltdown I had at 11 a.m. yesterday morning when everything seemed totally overwhelming and I had no idea whether or not I should make a sweet potato gratin and I couldn't remember if I was supposed to pick up Anne, David and Grandma Jean from the train station or not -- we had a wonderful dinner. Rachel wore her cute penguin dress, tights with snowflakes and black patent-leather shoes and Drew put her hair in "ponies" (ponytails) so that she looked adorable. Anne, David and Jean arrived around 2:30 and Angela, our babysitter, dropped by with boyfriend Tyler at 4, bearing wine, which I got a little sip of before I had to concentrate on making the meal. We sat down at 5:30 and although I thought the turkey was a little dry, David said it was the best he'd had in years. And everyone LOVED the pumpkin-cocoa cake I made with chocolate glaze and peanuts on top. It's the best combination of pumpkin and cocoa I have found and I think I may make it for the festive New Year's even dinner I'm planning.

As he was leaving, Tyler gave me a wonderful compliment. "You have such a lovely house; there's such a good vibe here," he said. "There's so much love." He said he missed his family in Montana and only got home about once a year to see them. I told him he's always welcome to come visit, especially when Drew goes back and I'm feeling lonely again.

Today we relaxed. Drew took Rachel for a rainy walk; they passed a nearby field where some kids were playing soccer and the boys were kind enough to let Rachel kick the ball around for a while. Meanwhile, Anne, David and I tromped all the way to the grocery store and bought rye bread, lettuce, apple juice and other fixings for a great lunch of turkey leftovers. It was freezing rain and awful outside, so I was glad to get home. Drew made a fire, which terrified Rachel but then she sat in his lap during lunch and calmed down. After lunch I sat with my back to the fire to get warm, then took a nap on the floor while Anne, David, Drew and Jean talked and Rachel napped.

I took everyone to the train station at 5. Anne, David and Jean said lovely things about Rachel -- that she is so sweet, so compassionate, and Jean said she's just a wonderful little girl (Rachel would toddle over to Jean with a book and say, "read, please."). I stoppped at the grocery store again for some parsnips and onions for the turkey soup that Drew promised to make, with dumplings, and got home to the great smell of a turkey carcass and chicken stock simmering on the stove. Rachel insisted on helping Drew. (This is a new thing; on Thursday, as she was helping him cut up butter for the turkey, she said, "I'm helping Daddy. Mommy, you happy now?") I read the Times, and then Rachel wanted to read part of the paper, too ("I'm reading about synagogue," she said, to our complete astonishment). We had a nice Shabbat dinner and Drew put Rachel to bed while I cleaned up.

If I have enough energy left we will watch a movie tonight.

Daddy's home, and all is well

Rachel didn't jump up and down with excitement when Drew walked into her bedroom this morning. In fact, she was a little standoffish until she convinced Daddy to play in the living room before breakfast -- before even getting dressed! I was able to take an unheard-of tea break and for a while I just listened to them playing, the sound of Rachel squealing with laughter and Drew's delighted laughter in return. Maybe that's why I didn't feel compelled to turn the radio on, there was enough music surrounding me!

Then I rushed out to drop off some drycleaning, got a haircut, met a recently widowed friend of mine for coffee, then waited an hour to get my oil changed using a coupon I got in the mail, then got a manicure, pedicure and brow wax, and raced to the mall to buy Rachel some tights and a dress that I hope she will wear tomorrow. It is returnable in case she doesn't.

All of the above, with the possible exception of the drycleaning drop-off, would have been difficult if not impossible to get done if Drew hadn't been available to take care of Rachel. I'm so used to doing everything around here, it's hard to just stop. Harder still to look at my watch and realize that it was a non-work day and yet I hadn't seen Rachel for hours.

When I got home I was distressed to learn that the haircut she got a) included glitter in her hair and b) consisted of little more than cutting her bangs and leaving the rest of her hair long, which makes her look like she has a toddler mullet. Ugh -- Drew assures me she looks adorable in hair clips and scrunchies and I had to explain to him that just because I'm a girl, too, does NOT mean I have any talent OR interest in elaborately making up Rachel's hair every morning (which is what the haircut lady did today. I should have been there to supervise, so I can't really blame Drew for this one. Much as I am tempted to). Drew tells me that it doesn't take much to make up Rachel's hair and he promised to show me how tomorrow morning.

Which means I'll spend this Thanksgiving learning how to do my daughter's hair from my clueless husband. Ah, well. Happy Turkey Day, everyone!

This may explain her sudden interest in pickup basketball

As we made the turn to the block near daycare yesterday, Rachel said, "Daddy's a boy."
"Yes, Rachel, Daddy's a boy," I said.
"I'm a boy!" she said.
I laughed. "No, Rachel, you're a GIRL."
"No, I a boy!"
"Rachel, Mommy is a girl. You're a girl, too, like Mommy."
"I a boy," she insisted.

I guess it jibes with her sudden interest in pickup basketball games, two of which we've watched at Calvary Baptist Church where her daycare is located. After daycare one day, we relaced on the benches on the second floor, one of which overlooks a basketball court. "Wanna watch basketball?" I asked her, and she was fascinated.

Last night she asked one of her teachers for Cheerios and they gave her some in a little paper tray. So, holding the tray very carefully so as not to spill, Rachel went upstairs and we watched basketball! I taught her to say, "Score!" every time someone made a basket -- the guys, and they were all guys, weren't wearing team colors so I couldn't distinguish one side from the other. So, we ended up rooting for both teams.

If you want to hear the essence of cute, listen to Rachel's little voice yell, "Score!" and you'll see what I mean. She was very upset tonight to see the darkened gym and realize that no game was on. Guess that means we'll be watching the NCAA finals this year?

I guess I don't need to worry so much

Today I had brunch with a group of older women to celebrate our friend Julie's 70th birthday. Julie is a doula, the oldest one in Oregon (she proudly says) and she has been a godsend to me before and after Rachel's birth and when I was fired earlier this year. She's eccentric but has the best heart of anyone I know. And she loves being my friend.

One of the ladies at the lunch was named Dena. She's 68, is a psychiatrist, grew up in Passaic, New Jersey, and raised her kids in Portland. She divorced her husband when her kids were 7 and 8. It was a pretty awful divorce.

Anyway, we got into a long discussion about public schools and she told me the nightmare story of her son, Simi, whom teachers at one of the city's best public elementary schools were convinced could not read -- and it turns out he was tuning out because he was so bored. Dena sent her kids to Jewish pre-school and Montessori, and by the time Simi got to high school, he was taking math classes at Reed. He eventually graduated with three years of college math behind him.

You really have to do enrichment, she said, because the schools won't.
We can't afford Montessori or private middle or high schools, I answered. (Her kids, by the way, graduated from Wilson High, one of the best in the city, and ended up going to Columbia and Williams College).

The conversation got me thinking about enrichment, and how I worry sometimes that Rachel isn't stimulated enough at her daycare or at home, where her toys feel like they're too babyish and I haven't enrolled her in any special weekend classes. I told Dena that Drew wants to teach Rachel Latin at home during the summers if the schools don't offer it. Come to think of it, Rachel and I will BOTH learn Latin from Drew because I want to learn it, too.

So tonight, as soon as she got up from her nap Rachel said she wanted to go into the living room and play -- and the first thing she did when I sat down was hand me two books and demand that I read them to her.

She ate a good dinner (stir-fry chicken, half a banana and jarred sweet potatoes) -- and then it was time for Mommy Books. I read the one about Corduroy finding a pocket while she held the original Corduroy book in her lap.

And then...she said she wanted to keep the book with her in her crib. So my daughter -- the one I will do everything in my power to make sure she's educated to the best of my ability and the one I worry about because I'm concerned that Portland Public Schools may not be challening enough for her -- my daughter is asleep under a thick blanket with bunny in one hand, her binky in another and her chest on the Corduroy book.

Perhaps she has learned to sneak a flashlight into bed with her so she can read after I've tucked her in?

Maybe I don't need to worry about her future so much?

Binky fireworks

Rachel claims to not like fireworks, but tonight when we were cuddling in the glider, she took her pacifier out of her mouth and started making circles in the air.

"I make fireworks with my binky," she said.

"You make fireworks, too," she added, and handed me a binky.

So, I started drawing imaginary circles. And lines up and down. And lines back and forth.

Then Rachel started waving her arm back and forth, hard, and clonked me in the face a few times. But I was having too much fun to stop. The game ended when one of us got bored -- I can't remember who -- and I started tickling her.

A lesson at Urban Grind

Urban Grind is a popular coffeehouse right near our house. It's renowned for having not one, but TWO playrooms full of toys. (OK, they're grimy and the voices inside of the toys don't work anymore, but still. It's really a treasure for stressed-out mommies, grandparents and parents like me who want to get together with other grownup friends with kids and actually talk while our kids play).

I met my friend Paige and her son Parker, who is 3 1/2, at Urban Grind today. The kids had a lot of fun playing, although not together -- I think that Rachel doesn't know Parker well enough to quite know what to make of him. I told Paige he looks like a baby rapper because his pants were falling below his diaper. She's trying to toilet-train him but it's not going well.

We had a nice conversation -- I barely saw Rachel for about an hour, she was so busy finding toys to play with -- when I went into the next room to fetch her and a bigger girl started snatching away every toy Rachel tried to play with. Before she could make a fuss, I brought her back to the room where Paige and I had been sitting.

As I ducked to try to get into the low door, the little girl blocked my way, even after I said "excuse me." Then she tried to shut the door in my face. I guessed she was about 5 or so. "Stop that," I said sharply, then pushed past her to go inside.

Her mother followed me.

"She has (this next part was a bit garbled)...autism," the mom said. "She's not always sensitive to what's going on."

"Oh," I said sheepishly. "I'm sorry. Thank you for letting me know."

Paige saw and heard the exchange. I told her I felt awful, and she did too, but we had no way of knowing.

Think of this, Paige said. That mother has to explain dozens, if not hundreds, of times a day about her daughter. She has to tell everyone why she behaves oddly.

And yet I noticed that she had a smile on her face the whole time.

Scenes from a Friday

I have taken to singing "Oklahoma" from the eponymous musical, and Rachel loves the yips and yippee-ays. So much that she has started trying to sing WITH me.

"I'm singing WITH you!" she said excitedly tonight.

***

On the way down to Salem, she suddenly, out of nowhere, said, "I wanna build fire tonight."
"Um, Rachel? You want me to build a fire, sweetie?"
"Yah," she answered.
"Ok," I replied, and then said that we could cuddle in front of the fire together.
"Rock," she said.
"You want me to rock you in front of the fire?"
"Yah," she said.

We didn't get a chance to do that tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Or when Drew gets here.

***

"I like Mommy. I like Daddy," she said out of the blue as we were nearing daycare.
"And Angela," she said, although it took a minute for me to realize she meant our reliable babysitter.
"And Constance," she said.
"And people," she concluded.

***

At daycare, Teacher Amanda was arranging things in a closet when one of the kids starting demanding her attention.
Rachel stepped in. "Teacher Amanda BUSY!" she scolded.

Teacher Jennifer said she and the other teachers use that expression when they're in the middle of something and one of the kids is trying to get them to do something.

I think Rachel is becoming kind of bossy, don't you? She has started saying to me, "stay right there" and "pick it up." Depending on what she says and her tone of voice, I either reply, "what do we say, Rachel?" "Please," she replies. Or, I'll say "Dont you EVER order Mommy around. That's rude and disrespectful." If she doesn't burst into tears, at least she's getting the message that I won't tolerate disrespect in my house.

A mixed bag

Well, today was a tiring one at work but at least I got to swim during lunch -- the last chance I'll get to exercise until after the Thanksgiving break. I have too much to do during my lunch hour next week to go to the gym. Sigh.

I dashed out to a kids' consignment store in Salem tonight because it's going to be very very cold tonight (there are even predictions of SNOW, ugh) and I've suddenly become extremely anxious that Rachel doesn't have a proper coat. Couldn't find a coat, but did manage to snag some leggings, shirts and sweaters. It seems as if we're always running out of clothes for her to wear, but that could be because I only do Rachel laundry one day a week.

After I picked her up we went to Value Village, a cheapo store that's a cut above Goodwill. And I snagged a size 3 warm winter coat from Columbia Sportswear for $15! "TOO BIG!" Rachel protested, and as I made her put it on she said, "no no no," and it's true, it looks like she's swimming in it, but at least she's not falling out of the coat and I figure she can grow into it. I just can't bring myself to spend $75 on a coat she will only wear this season. Let's hope that, in fact, she grows into it because I can tell it's going to be a struggle getting her into and out of it.

So we were late getting home, and when I pulled into the garage and unhooked Rachel from her car seat I noticed she had made an absolute MESS with bits of granola, raisins and bran flakes. I was so exasperated that I plunked her down in the kitchen and cleaned as much as I could -- then used the Dustbuster for the rest, which absolutely terrified her (and I knew it, too, which makes my behavior all the more abonimable). "No more granola for you, Rachel," I said crossly as I carried the crumbs from the car to the kitchen sink. "You make too much of a mess." All the while she was crying and imploring me not to turn on the "vaccum cleaner" again, at one point grabbing my legs and holding onto them for dear life.

That's when I sat down on the kitchen floor and took her in my lap and started crying. I know she's scared of the Dustbuster but I used it anyway, and I got angry at her for making the backseat a mess when, really, it doesn't matter in the long run. I told her that I needed a hug and she obliged. She even gave me a kiss when I asked.

"Do you want to eat dinner, sweetie?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"Want to do Mommy books?"
"Yeah," she answered.

So, no Shabbat candles or dinner for us tonight. That opened the door to another perpetual worry: That Rachel never eats a decent meal; she lives on snacks of pretzels, graham crackers, raisins, bananas, granola bars and the occasional jar of baby food. I have given up trying to feed her grownup food because she never eats it. Thus reinforcing my deep, insecure belief that I am really not equipped to do this on my own.

An antidote to a grumpy evening

So, I'm getting REALLY tired of getting home at 8 p.m. during the week because some idiot gets in a car accident and ties up I-5, and then Rachel wants to play and tickle and cuddle instead of eat dinner, and all I want is for someone to haul all my crap from the car, unbuckle Rachel from her carseat and serve me a nice, hot meal -- all the stuff that I do every single night of my life nowdays -- and clean up the disastrous backseat and mop the floor and clean the grime from the windows and the doors or hire me a maid to do all that. Oh, and read books to Rachel, the same ones every night, with an appropriate amount of enthusiasm in my voice.

And I want someone to take charge of my to-do list, which includes fixing the plaster in the living room and replacing the ceiling vent in my bathroom which I can't even figure out how to open because there are no screws, at least that I can see, and tell me how I'm going to afford to repair everything that's starting to go wrong in this house AND buy me a badly-needed new car.

All of this was weaving itself through my subconscious tonight, especially when Rachel was being more whiny and sobby than usual. And I wasted an hour sitting at the dinner table reading the NYTimes and Oregonian because By God I was going to read a newspaper today if it killed me, and I just finished cleaning up the kitchen when I heard what sounded like yelling from Rachel's bedroom. I listened at the door and it really sounded as if she was fighting off a monster. Or at least a bad dream.

I tiptoed inside, rubbed her back, whispered, "It's OK, sweetie," and pulled her blanket over her (she kicked it off in her sleep, I'm sure). Her entire little body seemed to relax. And then emotions that swept over me were overwhelming. She really depends on her Mommy -- stressed-out, frazzled Mommy -- to hold it together and make everything better when she has a bad dream or needs comforting. The power I have is absolutely incredible. I've never pulled the blanket back over her body during a bad dream, and suddenly I realized she really counts on me to fix whatever's wrong in her life.

Kind of like I want to depend on someone to fix what's wrong in my life, but I can't. It's up to me.

I'm tearing up as I write this. It's time for me to turn in.

Practicing to be a Mommy?

Today, Teacher Jennifer at daycare told me that Rachel took a naked little dolly from the shelf and rocked her, just like all the teachers rock the kids and just like she's seen other kids rock their dollies. ("Rock me," she has started to say to me every night when we're in the glider in her bedroom, cuddling and tickling).

Rachel then walked to the wall where the clipboards are. The clipboards are for each child and help the teachers keep track of who needs diaper changes when.

So Rachel studied the clipboards intently, just like the teachers do, and handed her dolly to Jennifer and said, "Dolly needs a diaper."

Jennifer said Rachel then put the dolly on the changing table, so Jennifer improvised and covered the dolly's bottom with a piece of paper towel and tape.

The whole thing sounds completely adorable and I wish I could've been there to see it.

Cold and rain. Blech. But, hey, I have a Smartphone!

Yesterday I went out and did what I said I'd do for months now -- bought myself a Smartphone! It's a Droid, made by Verizon, and I LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT even though I can't for the life of me figure out half of what it's able to do. (Calling David Lednicer: How about a Thanksgiving tutorial?:)) Anyway...I bought a pink cover so I can see it and there is no way it's going to fall into the hands of The Little Girl. Although she immediately figured out it was a phone when she spied it this morning.

Tonight, it was rainy and windy and cold and miserable, a reminder of why I hate living in Oregon for 8 months out of the year. I couldn't bear to take her outside of daycare, so when I picked her up (it's in the basement of a Baptist church), we sat on a cushioned bench while she held her dolly (from daycare) and I watched her.

"Stay right here," she said. "I'm going away. I'm taking my dolly."

And she walked a little ways away. "Rachel, please come back!" I implored. She must have heard the wistfulness in my voice, because she came running back, so I got to scoop her in my arms. I am so cognizant of the day that will come when she will leave for good that it breaks my heart to think about her even kidding about it. It's why I couldn't sing a song called "Kilkelly Ireland" on the way to daycare today. It's about a father in Ireland writing to his son in America, telling him about all the news back home and begging him to come for a visit. The sadness in the song is so palpable that I had to stop after the first two verses.

A couple minutes later, on my lap, she asked me to give her some of her bitten-into apple she didn't finish at lunch. After I gave her a piece or two, she said, "I take a piece." So she bit into the apple, handed me the piece (which is what I do for her on the way home from daycare) and said, "Here, Mommy. Want a piece?"

I was so touched that I said yes. Maybe she won't be leaving so soon, after all.

She broke my phone...

while talking to Daddy tonight, so I'll need to take oh, 2 hours out of my day tomorrow that I don't have to buy a Droid. Oh, well, I had planned to buy a Smartphone anyway, just not this soon.

This morning while I was getting her dressed, Rachel peered into the basket where I keep her pants and said, "Let's try something different," and reached in for a pair of tights she had never worn before.

Astonished at her vocabulary, I said, "Rachel, did you really say 'let's try something different?'"

When I put on the tights - wonderful, Dr. Seuss-y striped ones -- she said approvingly, "these look good."

***

On the way home tonight, after I fed her a bunch of apple slices, she handed the apple back to me. "Want a piece, Mommy?"
"No thanks, Rachel," I said. "But thank you for offering."

***

She is already working on the "sloppy speech" issue. From the backseat I heard her practicing saying, "I cahn't. I cahn't. I cahn't." Now she sounds like a Boston Brahmin, circa 1958.

I think she sneaks out of her crib at night to read what I'm saying about her on this blog.

Sloppy speech

Betcha don't know why I don't have a Joisey accent, do ya? It's because Mom spent years -- and I mean YEARS -- correcting me when I'd say things like, "I kee-ant," instead of "I cahn't." She called it "sloppy speech" and let it be known that she considered it vulgar and low-class. Just because my friends and everyone else in Hackensack talked that way didn't mean her kids were going to, too.

It drove me crazy (and I suspect it drove her barking mad, as well), but boy did it pay off in the end. The reason I don't sound low-class and vulgar and that no one can figure out where I'm from is because Mom did all that work on the front end.

So, I've noticed that Rachel has started to say, "I kee-ant." And I have started to say, "No, Rachel, I cahn't."

So our conversations in the car go something like this:

"I kee-ant."
"No, Rachel, I cahn't."
"I kee-ant!"
"I cahn't."

You get the idea.

I've told Rachel that Grandma used to correct Mommy when she was little and called it "sloppy speech" when she said certain things certain ways, but I think the explanation is lost on her. All that registers, I'm sure, is that Mommy is being a persnickety pain in the a--. Oh, it's only going to get worse. I feel sorry for her already.

Busy Sunday!

Rachel and I spent the morning with my friend Linda and her daughter, Devin, who we met at St. James. Linda can't wait to have us back and we can't wait to GO back. Linda lives in a fabulous duplex in Southwest Portland, just over the Vista Street Bridge. I walked into the living room and immediately felt as if I had entered a treehouse -- the house is way up on a hill and is nestled between chestnut and maple trees. Linda says the house doesn't get much sun but it felt wonderful to me.

Rachel and Devin, who is a few months older than Rachel, had a great time together while I stayed in the kitchen with Linda and she told me about some of the issues the neighbors have had (like the PCC students who rented the house down the street and immediately decided to throw keg parties that ran past 1 a.m.). Devin has a cool play kitchen from Ikea that I am dying to get Rachel -- it has a play microwave, and Linda has all kinds of play food, and there was a great play teakettle that made pouring noises every time Rachel tried to pour me tea -- and Rachel & Devin amused themselves with it for a while, until Linda got out the markers and some butcher paper and told them to draw ON THE PAPER NOT ON THE TABLE. So of course they immedately began drawing everywhere besides the paper -- when we heard their shrieks of laugher, Linda and walked in to find Rachel drawing all over her hand, and the marker was all over the table. Luckily the markers washed off immediately, even better than the ones at daycare.

After Devin and Rachel began having meltdowns, Linda took us all outside, got a green ball from her trunk and the kids kicked the ball around the street (it's not a well-traveled street, Drew, so they were safe) and Rachel really impressed me with how hard and accurately she could kick! (soccer in her future? If so, I have already decided how I will get through the rainy soccer season -- a Thermos of homemade hot chocolate and schnapps, so I can get pleasantly buzzed and forget how cold I am). Then Devin wanted to hold Rachel's hand as we took a walk to the bridge, and after some resistance Rachel assented. It was so cool to have us all walking together, the girls holding hands and the moms holding their girls' hands. Girl Power!

THEN we got home in time for Rachel to have a snack (jarred pers & mangoes are her favorite these days) and take a nap, and then I went down for a nap myself. Then I got up and prepared chicken and chocololate-covered toffee bars for our friend and babysitter, Angela, who came over for dinner with her "young man," a very nice guy named Tyler. At dinner Rachel was her usual adorable self, stuffing her face with noodles and then asking to try some tea. Angela weakened it with ice and after she sipped it, Rachel declared, "this is good tea!" She then declared it was time for Mommy Books, so I read to her, gave her a bath and rejoined Angela and Tyler, who stayed until 10 or so. (They also agreed to come over for New Year's after I told them I wanted to make a great meal and a fabulous dessert. So, we'll have Molly, Tyler and Angela, Drew, me and Rachel. Really looking forward to it). Luckily I had cleaned up most of the kitchen by then, so I made Rachel's lunch, put away the leftovers and tossed in some Rachel laundry. The work never ends.

Another busy weekend, another way of keeping the loneliness at bay. I love socializing, exhausting as it can be, and so the weeks have just been flying by. Tomorrow I'll be able to finally say to Rachel, "Daddy will be home next week!"

Rachel's new favorite friend...

is a 9-year-old girl named Natalie, who is the daughter of our friends Melissa and Steve who live in Lake Oswego. We went to their house for dinner tonight. Natalie and her 11-year-old brother, Jeremy, really took a shine to Rachel and took her downstairs to play while the adults talked. Apparently Jeremy was trying to teach Rachel how to kick a soccer ball. Trying to explain the concept of being on a team, he told her, "OK, Rachel. You DON'T LIKE Natalie" (because she's on the opposite team).

Trying to test Rachel, he said, "Do you you like Natalie?"
"Yah," she said, grinning.
"Do you like ME?" he said.
"Yah," she said.

I guess it will be a while before Rachel is ready for competitive soccer!

Steve and Melissa sent us home with a bunch of their kids' old stuff, an assortment of odds and ends (paper dolls, plastic buckets of Jack-o-lanterns) that I put upstairs. They should amuse Rachel for hours on a really crummy day, weather-wise, like today was.

Commuting hell

Tonight I got a preview of one winter commuting scenario: The Traffic Jam That Lasts Forever Without Me Ever Finding Out What The Hell Went Wrong Five Miles Up Ahead. I-5 was a parking lot tonight, about halfway between Salem and home. I silently cursed myself for not having jars of baby food, a sleepsuit and other survival gear in Rachel's diaper bag. Lesson learned!

I finally put on an old tape of mine called "Juluka." It's South African music by Johnny Clegg, and, man, did it bring back memories of my time in Africa. I kept thinking tonight how much easier my life seemed then, apart from the constant angst of wanting to be a great writer and never thinking that I would get there. In the end it destroyed my career, but that's for a much longer post.

Rachel was remarkably cheerful about the whole ordeal, probably because I didn't express frustration out loud, just curiosity. "What do you think is going on, Rachel?" I kept asking her, but she never supplied an answer. I used the time to call Dad, my friend Dan, and leave a message for Drew. I fed Rachel pretzels, a granola bar, raisins and a small green apple and that held her until we got home (as did taking off her socks and shoes. Usually I mock-scold her about this, but I said tonight that "Rachel, I have no idea when we'll get home, so go ahead and take your socks and shoes off if you want to." I could feel her surprise and delight emanating from the back seat).

One of the highlights (or lowlights, depending on your point of view): Her small voice saying, "Mommy I got a bug on my nose."

"A bug, Rachel? What kind of bug?"

"A BOOGER on my nose, Mommy."

This is the third time in two weeks she has used that word, which she did NOT get from me. I blame everything on daycare. I handed her a tissue and let her wipe up the mess herself.

Also: For the past two nights I've asked her, "What did you do in school today, sweetie?"
Her reply: "Nothing."

I thought we had, oh, 11 more years until we started dealing with those kinds of answers. Sigh.

Rachel's personality

..is apparently funny and playful, and she's quite a ham, according to her teachers at daycare, when I asked tonight how they'd describe her personality.

"She's a happy, happy little girl," said Lianna, who used to work in the toddler room but is now with the babies.

It's true. Rachel has taken to laughing out loud -- really howling laugher -- sometimes for no reason at all. And she's funny! Tonight when I heard her make a little sound when I was reading to her, I asked, "What's that, Rachel?"

"A burp," she said, so matter-of-factly that I cracked up. She's obviously too young to be embarrassed or say "excuse me!"

I put her in a new pair of shoes today (actually, I got them from a consignment store for about $7). I suspect they're boy shoes, but they have Velcro straps and are different shades of blue. She took to them immediately.

"You like my shoes, don't you?" she asked me on the way home tonight.
"Yes, Rachel, I LOVE your shoes!" I replied.

We only had two bad comuting moments tonight. It was rainy and slightly scary driving home in the dark, trying to get Rachel food while listening to a CD she insisted that Mommy put into the CD player. She asked for the mountain song, then the bus song, and I had to tell her I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Bus song! Bus song!" she insisted. (She knows to ask for "Wheels on the bus," which I know by heart, but that's the only bus song we know so it sounded as if she wanted a different one).

I had put on a CD by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy at that point and snarled at Rachel, "this IS the bus song!" out of total frustration. She started really crying, and apologized and rubbed her leg.

Later, after she calmed down and announced, "I'm happy again," she followed that up with, "don't scream at me, Mommy."

I silently vowed not to if I could at all help it.

Two cute daycare anecdotes

..from Teacher Jennifer, who appears to be charmed by Rachel (who wouldn't be?:))

Asked if she had a poopy diaper, Rachel replied, "No, I just gassy."
She picked that up from the teachers, who say it when one of the kids breaks wind instead of poops.

Later, playing with a toy phone, Rachel pretended to talk to Drew:
"Hi Daddy!" she said. "How are you in New York? Is it fun in New York?"

Not really, Drew said later when I told him. Definitely not as fun as it would be if Rachel were there. Sigh.

Little GIRLS!

We had a busy weekend. On Saturday I had to attend a memorial service for a former professor at the law school (really, I assigned myself the story for the spring edition of the magazine) and our friend Constance was gracious enough to come with us and watch Rachel for two hours. They spent the afternoon at a magical place called the Gilbert Museum and Discovery Center, which has a monster play structure that Drew would have so gotten into. I can't wait for all of us to go there when it's warm one summer weekend.

Afterward we stopped at a sushi place in Tualatin and Constance and I had the semblance of a conversation while Rachel really was remarkably well-behaved and patient. The sushi was on a conveyor belt, and the only thing Rachel would eat was a plate of canteloupe and oranges. The waitress commented on how adorable she was, and asked Rachel for a hug -- which she cheerfully gave -- and then I suggested a kiss, which she gave also. The waitress, Julie, was really touched.

Then we got home and I got so busy that I only had time to read a bit before going to sleep.

On Sunday our playdate cancelled on us but it was a beautiful day so we ended up heading to Laurelhurst Park, where we hadn't been in a while. I can't even describe how gorgeous the weather was, how lovely the trees looked, and how much fun Rachel had -- and how energetic I felt, probably because I'm exercising a lot these days and really trying to cut down on starches and sweets -- so we ended up going down the slide THREE TIMES while holding hands. Rachel also climbed the skinny ladder all by herself. I was so impressed!

But then the rain came, fast and hard, and I was just able to get her home in time for nap before our friends Suzanne, Steve and their 2 1/2-year-old daughter Lila came over. And that turned out to be the best part of the weekend! She and Rachel ran around the house, shrieking with laughter, and then they discovered the egg chair (thank you again Linda for bequeathing it to us) and it was so cute when Rachel said, "sit next to me, Lila!" and then Steve pulled the cover over them and they twirled around and laughed and laughed. Lila says the same things Rachel does in the exact same way -- "dew" for "do," and other cute toddler-isms -- and Lila is also a huggy little girl. As they were getting ready to leave, Lila spontaneously came up to me with a very serious expression on her little face and gave me a hug, and then a kiss! It was so sweet! And then she and Rachel hugged and kissed each other!

Suzanne told me later that on the way home, when she asked Lila if she'd had fun with Rachel, Lila said, "I like Rachel! She's my sister!" High praise, Suzanne said, since she has never referred to anyone else that way.

As I put Rachel to sleep, she said, "I like Suzanne and Steve." Then she added, "Lila my FAVORITE!"

Hilarious Rachel

Tonight after I drew the bath and prodded Rachel back into her bedroom, she briefly escaped, deliberately threw herself on the floor and said, grinning, in a sweetly taunting voice:

"Don't TICKLE me! Don't even THINK about it!"

And after I fell on the floor laughing, Rachel laughed too, toddled over to her crib, grabbed her blanket and then covered me up, as if to put me to sleep.

NEWS FLASH!! NEWS FLASH!!

RACHEL PEED IN THE POTTY TONIGHT!

For the past couple of evenings, when we've gotten home and are getting ready to "wash hands," Rachel usually announces, "I wanna use the potty." She never actually pees or poops into it, she just pulls her pants down (I had to tell her that there's no need to actually take them off) and I take off her diaper (after the insists on doing it herself and then meekly accepts my help) and she sits on the potty...and sits...and talks, and kind of hangs out on the thing when she should really be relieving herself and then getting on with her life. It doesn't help that I plunk myself down next to her to keep her company. I think she thinks of the whole deal as a social event we do before washing hands and eating dinner.

Anyway.

Tonight I left her there because it was late (7:45 or so) and I needed to take off my jewelry and change clothes. All of a sudden I heard Rachel clop-clopping out of the bathroom looking for me, and I ran in and scolded her for getting off the potty and walking around, that you're not supposed to do that, and she started sobbing...and I looked into the potty and I saw pee! RACHEL HAD PEED IN THE POTTY!!

So I immediately hugged her and told her how proud I was of her and then I tried to call Drew (who somehow didn't get the voice mail message), and I hugged her and kissed her tears and told her again how proud I was of her and said, "RACHEL! YOU PEED IN THE POTTY!"

And her response, after peering at the evidence, was: "That's juice in there."

"Don't even THINK about it!"

That's what Rachel said when she spilled her cup of water at dinner tonight. I hid my exasperation (really, I should be grateful she's not a klutz like my husband:)) and hurried over with a paper towel, reassuring her that "it's all right, Rachel, no big deal, we can just wipe it up."

Then I got back to what I was doing in the kitchen, only to hear her play-acting: "Don't spill, wadee! Don't even THINK about it!"

Like I said in a previous post, I have never used this expression around her, so I can only guess it comes from daycare.

***

Tonight on the way home, Rachel as usual asked for "Rise and Shine." Because I've sung it again and again and again and again until death do us part...oops, sorry to be an annoyed Mommy here....I've now started to expect Rachel to finish some phrases. Like, I'll sing, "The Lord said to Noah, you better build an...." and expect her to fill in the words "arky arky" which she usually does willingly in the morning.

When I didn't finish the phrase tonight I said, "Rachel!"

"I'm drinking right now," she said, a bit dismissively. Really, who am I to tell her to interrupt her water-drinking to help Mommy out with a song?

Sad duckie

Rachel has developed a fondness for a song I used to sing to her when she was a baby and revived the other day: "Five Little Ducks." As in, "Five little ducks went out to play/over the hills and far away/Mother Duck went quack quack quack/and only four little duckies came back.." Then when all her duckies are gone, "Sad Mother Duck goes out one day...." and all her duckies come back.

Rachel said today on the drive down to Salem: "Mother Duck sad."
"Yes," I said. "Just like Mommy would be said if you went away."
"I no go 'WAY!" she said firmly.
Later, I heard her say to an imaginary small duckie, "NO, baby duckie, don't hit Mommy Duckie! I don't LIKE that!"

***

At daycare, Teacher Jennifer told me tonight that Jaxson, one little boy that Rachel mentions a lot, was having trouble opening his lunch pack, since the plastic was holding it closed. "Help me!" he said, looking at Rachel.
And Rachel jumped right in to try to help, but couldn't. "I can't!!" she said despairingly.
Jennifer said it was the cutest thing in the world to watch Rachel try to help her classmate!

***

Tonight, as we got off the highway on the drive home, Rachel said, "I put on my mittens!" (really, her socks, which she puts on her hands)
"Rachel?!?" I said in mock despair. "WHY did you take off your SOCKS?"
"Because," she said.
"Because WHY?" I asked.
"Because it's funny," she said, and I had to crack up.

***

"I want to give James a big hug and a big kiss!" she said as we pulled into the garage. So I let her out and she immediately hugged and kissed James, who was writing a letter to his mom on his computer in the kitchen. He was gracious enough to pull her onto his lap and "read" a book about Clifford the Dog to her. She looked so content, and I was so glad for a precious two minutes to take off my coat, get dinner warming and take off my jewelry. Minutes that I don't usually have to myself.

But I know it's time for Drew to come home for a visit because after dinner, when James and I were talking and Rachel was again on his lap, she referred to him as "Daddy."

Banoon house

So, I asked Rachel on the drive home to tell me more about the balloon house.

"Where is it, Rachel?"
"I don't know." (Later she said, "in the backyard.")
"What color is it?"
"Orange."

She talks a lot about the balloon house, how she and Mommy and Daddy are going to eat dinner/sleep in it someday. I can only guess where this comes from.

Rachel's the bright spot on a grim election day

I'll refrain from commenting on the political situation until I know for sure how the congressional and gubernatorial races will turn out. Until then:

Rachel was an absolute sweetie tonight except for one temper tantrum over the fact that I couldn't give her water because I hadn't packed her water cup (which I did, but didn't discover that until tonight). When we were about to exit the car tonight after getting home, she said, "I carry you, Mommy." (oh, if only you could! I thought silently).

Then, as we were walking past the kitchen into the bedroom, she said something indistinguishable -- sounded like, "don't put that up there," and then followed it with, "don't even THINK about it." I almost cracked up!

And we had a great cuddle session tonight, with me holding her close and musing aloud, "I wonder how many tickle spots Rachel has." (giggle from Rachel). Then I proceeded to tickle her arms, her armpits, knees, feet...she kept giggling softly and giggling and I was having such fun that I had to force myself to say, "OK, time for a bath, Rachel." She actually was pretty agreeable about the whole thing.

Halloween

As I said on Facebook this morning, I'd love to post a cute picture of my kid wearing a lion costume. But Rachel refused to put it on.

We had a fun Halloween, though. We joined Amy, her husband Greg and their kids Tony and Jake to go trick-or-treating in Multnomah Village, a really great neighborhood. Tony was an officer from the Clone Wars and Jake made a very cute Yoda, and Amy and Greg loaned me their umbrella stroller. It was an amazing feeling to walk around without hauling the huge BOB stroller we haven't gotten rid of, and Amy graciously offered to give us their stroller as soon as January is here. Yay!

The street was mobbed with kids in all kinds of cute outfits, adults too, and as Amy said -- it's great people-watching! It took us about an hour to get up and down the street and I noticed several cute stores that I am dying to go into and browse and (when Drew gets back and we have two incomes again) maybe buy things? For the house? I also noticed some really promising family-friendly restaurants; Drew and I are getting bored with the offerings in Northeast so maybe over his Christmas break we can explore that side of town.

After the trick-or-treating we ended up at Amy and Greg's. I drank a bit too much wine and was feeling very relaxed, which persisted on the drive home. At Amy's we had some chicken, a bit of pizza and I ate a salad. Rachel "played" with Tony and Jake. I always marvel how good they are with her, generously sharing their toys and really watching out for her. At one point Tony took her upstairs and made a "book" for her, which meant drawing her picture and writing her name, then stapling several pages together. He asked what her favorite color was, and when she said, "yeyow," he colored the balloon in her hand in the picture yellow. She was so entranced by that, she said last night: "I want Tony! I want Tony!" I had encouraged her before the visit to tell me how she would ask Tony to pick her up and she said very sweetly, "Tony, please pick me up!" But she never got a chance to say it.

When we got home she really didn't want any dinner -- I had been a Bad Mommy and let her eat candy when all she'd had that morning was breakfast -- but she ended up eating an orange and saying, "it's very juicy!" A couple of kids stopped by our house for trick-or-treating and Rachel helped hand out mini-Twix bars (after I placed two in her hand so it didn't look as if I was giving her candy away).

Her candy, by the way, is in her Halloween basket on my desk at work. So if any of you are near the Willamette University campus in the next few months and need some sugar, you know where to get your candy fix.

Happy Halloween! Now, on to Thanksgiving!

Bragging mom alert

I suddenly got into a panic last night after talking to my friend Dan, who was saying that his almost-2-year-old granddaughter watches videos and can really follow them in a sophisticated manner, and that she has a ton of educational toys, including Tom the Train, and I started to think that I really need to get Rachel a play kitchen and an easel and a toy vacuum cleaner and shopping cart, and why am I being such a hard-a-- about the TV, she really needs to be way more technologically savvy than her parents, and I don't want her to be left behind when her other little friends figure out how to program their iPods and design knockout computer games at the age of 4. Whereas Drew and I are so behind the times that we still marvel over cell phones.

But as usual, I digress.

I was sharing some of these concerns with Jennifer, one of the teachers at daycare who has a 16-month-old son. The first thing she said when I picked Rachel up today was that Rachel refused to wear her lion costume when the kids went trick-or-treating throughout the school. Then she said that Rachel was so adorable; Jennifer was carrying her around when suddenly Rachel said, "Whew! It's been a busy day!"

Jennifer added, "She's really smart. No other kid said 'it's been a busy day.' She talks really well and if we had enough staff to be the right ratio to the kids, we'd move her up to the Beginners class. She's mature enough to handle it.

"Right now the most important thing you can do is talk to her and read to her." Which I do, so I will try to stop worrying about the educational toys and the DVD issues. At least for now.

Morning drive time with Rachel

Talk radio cannot be as amusing as listening to my daughter. A sample from today:

"I have animals in my backyard. Brown, orange, yeyo."
"Really, Rachel? What animals?"
"Uh...duckie!"
"What else?"
"A pig!"
"What else?"
"Horsie!"

***

"Daddy no like kitties and doggies. Open the car door, Mommy. What happened with my keys, Mommy?"

***

"I want Daddy pick me up. I want Daddy go for walk in car. Daddy go for walk with my bike?"
"Daddy, you in my mitten? Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?"
"Here you go, Daddy," (handing a pretend Drew the removable soles of what she calls her 'fancy shoes," -- black with Velcro straps with a flower motif) "Take these, Daddy!"

Corduroy

We read a book at least twice a day called "Corduroy Lost and Found." It's about a toy bear, Corduroy, who decides he wants to give his owner/mommy Lisa a birthday present, so he leaves their apartment to go to find a present. He thinks the moon is a balloon and in following it, he gets into a mishap that ends up with him helping to sell newspapers at a newspaper stand -- and then being reunited with Lisa, who is very worried about him being gone.

Rachel has really begun interacting with the story. When Corduroy rides the elevator and thinks he's in a rocket ship and wants to give Lisa a rocket ship for her birthday, Rachel says, "I want rocket ship for my birthday."

"You know, honey, by the time you're old enough you may very well be able to ride a rocket ship!" I tell her.

When a dog grabs Corduroy's overalls with his teeth and scoops him up for a walk, I always ask Rachel, "how would you feel if someone did that to you?"

"I no like it," she says decisively.

She knows that when Mr. Gonzalez, the newsstand operator, says, "Adios," it means "goodbye." And "muchas gracias," means "thank you." (Rachel, by the way, is saying "thanks," more and more these days -- from when I give her granola to when I give her crayons. I really like hearing it, since I am determined to raise a polite kid).

Speaking of birthdays, I asked her this morning what she wanted for her birthday and she said, "brown."
"Um, brown what?" I said. "You can't just have brown. Do you want a brown shirt?"
"Yes," she said.
"A brown book?"
"Yes."

She did the same with the color orange tonight. She said she wanted "orange!" for her birthday, and I promised to put one in her lunch bag tomorrow.

When Daddy comes home

In a just a few days it will be November (is it me, or did October feel like it had about 2 extra weeks in it?) and I'll be able to say, "Daddy will be home in three weeks/two weeks/a week/next week!" Tonight, while Rachel and I were cuddling in the glider, I practiced.

"Daddy will be home for Thanksgiving," I said. "What do you want him to do when he's here?"
"I want pick me up," she said.
"Then what do you want him to do?"
"Tumble me."
"Then what?"
"Play toys."
"Then what? Cuddle? Kiss?"
By then she'd lost interest.

Arghh....

Difficult day at work today. Dealing with IT folks is always a hassle, especially when they act like it's a big deal to explain things and then tell you, gently but firmly, that you've got a steep learning curve when it comes to learning things like Web design, photo re-sizing, etc. Apparently the fact that I was hired with absolutely no experience in this area and that there was no need or interest in such skills in my former career didn't make a difference.

And Rachel is now getting bored with all the songs I sing; she'll say, "Sing a new song, Mommy," and when I begin, she'll say, "I don't LIKE that song," and then I'll start another song and she'll say, "I don't LIKE that song," and it continues until I get completely exasperated. Yesterday I told her that I wouldn't sing any more songs because she doesn't like any of my choices. Now she will request a few -- "Rise and Shine," and "Solidarity Forever' (Solirary fuhever, she calls it) -- and if she doesn't, I'll either ignore her requests to sing or I'll say, "Mommy needs to rest her voice." I feel terribly guilty doing it, because the day may come when I'll miss the fact that my daughter once wanted me to sing to her. But it's also hard to be creative at the end of a long, tiring, discouraging day and trying to talk to Drew at the same time while losing my train of thought every time Rachel demands something from the back seat. She has started using the phrase "RIGHT NOW" and I've told her repeatedly not to do that -- it's disrespectful -- but I was so frustrated in my attempts to have a conversation with my husband and deal with Rachel that I almost screamed at her. It ended up with me hanging up the phone. I've decided that trying to have conversations with people on the way home is totally useless.

Oh, she did say one cute thing. Her daycare took her to a pumpkin patch on Monday and she was more thrilled that she got to ride a bus than she was with the pumpkins (although she told me she wanted Daddy -- or was it Mommy? -- to lift her up in the pumpkin patch). Anyway, tonight she said, "I wanna ride the bus."

"I wanna ride the bus with Mommy and Daddy and James and Patt and Steve and Amanda and Jenn. Hello, everyone!"

"Try some, Mommy, it's really good!"

That's what Rachel said today as she tried to feed me some of her apple butternut squash baby food. When she said "it's really good," I had to laugh, it sounded so cute.

THEN she proceeded to eat not one, not two, but 2 1/2 bananas. This, after being the only baby I know who actually refused to eat bananas! Yay! Maybe this kid will end up eating normally after all!

Tonight as we were cuddling I told her I wanted to take her to the coast so she could play in the sand. Then I told her I really wanted her to take swimming lessons. "No, I don't want to," she said.

"Go to coast," she said. "No sand. No water."

I burst into laughter. "Rachel, it's impossible to avoid the sand and the water when you're at the coast," I said.

She seemed unconvinced.

Rainy rainy rainy weekend

I have been dreading the time when the weather turns crummy and I have no playdates scheduled and Rachel and I are stuck in the house over a long weekend. I thought this weekend would turn out to be one of those, but it didn't.

Today it was pouring, but luckily our friend Amy came over with a lion costume for Rachel to wear when she goes trick-or-treating next weekend. She, of course, promptly refused to wear it. I'm sure she will be the only girl not wearing a costume when we go trick-or-treating in Multnomah Village. Oh, well.

By the time Amy left it was time to go grocery shopping. The rain let up a bit, but then it began pouring when we got home. I got Rachel down for a nap, lay down on the loveseat for my own nap (and James typing on his laptop on the big couch, which was a very soothing lullabye), then prepared a roasted chicken, ordered a birthday gift for Mom, filled out my ballot and it was time to wake Rachel up. Then James, Robert and I sat down to dinner; they were very appreciate and Rachel ate A LOT of chicken; then she wanted to play in the living room a bit; we played with blocks, then it was time for Mommy Books and bed, and when I got back to the kitchen it was all clean, James was typing in the living room again and as soon as I make Rachel's lunch for tomorrow, we will sit in front of the fire and I will read the NY Times and MAYBE pay bills. Or I may put off that unpleasant chore until tomorrow night.

All in all, not a bad weekend. I still like to socialize more, though. Keeps me from feleing too lonely.

What Rachel does before I walk into her room in the morning

I tell people that I love weekends, because Rachel and I sleep late. But that's not really true -- she gets up before me, I'm sure (since I didn't really wake up until 9 today) but she's still in her crib and no longer yells for attention. Oh, around 10 or so I'll hear a little whimper: "Mommymommymommy" as if she's afraid I've forgotten about her, but it's mostly just silence.

Somehow we got on the subject of what she does when she wakes up.

"Play with my puppy," she said (that would be Spot, a yellow stuffed dog, a gift from Mom and Dad).
And then? I asked her.
"Play with my pacifier," she said.
And then?
"Play with monkey," she said.

This is why I keep so many stuffed animals in the crib. At least she has playmates. I hope they'll amuse her for a long time, at least until Drew gets home.