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!