Rachel's daycare teacher, Jennifer, told me today that Rachel READ to the other kids! The book was "The Wheels on the Bus" and she knows the words to the song, so she just read it aloud.
There's another book at daycare that she's memorized and likes to "read" aloud as well.
Jennifer says memorization is the first step to true reading. Oh, I can't wait until we can read to each other, really read! We've already begun the huge colorful book on Greek mythology that Drew found years ago and put a plastic cover on to preserve. Rachel can get through 15 pages at a time without seeming to lose interest. Wonder how much of it she's absorbing?
Monday, January 31, 2011
More timeouts
Rachel seems to think that whenever she spills or drops something, it's not her fault. It's the fault of the inanimate object that spilled or dropped. (Wonder if I need to start correcting her on this?). She gives the objects a hearty scolding, which usually consists of, "no NO, chair!" "No NO, applesauce!" etc.
Tonight she got mad at a measuring cup after she spilled some water she was trying to pour into it.
"No NO cup!" she said. "You BAD! I take you into my room for a TIMEOUT!"
"Um, how long are you going to give the cup a timeout, Rachel?" I asked.
"Two hours and three hours," she said.
"That seems like an awful long time for a timeout, sweetie," I said. "Are you sure you want to do that?"
"Yes!" she said firmly.
Heaven help us if she becomes a circuit court judge.
Tonight she got mad at a measuring cup after she spilled some water she was trying to pour into it.
"No NO cup!" she said. "You BAD! I take you into my room for a TIMEOUT!"
"Um, how long are you going to give the cup a timeout, Rachel?" I asked.
"Two hours and three hours," she said.
"That seems like an awful long time for a timeout, sweetie," I said. "Are you sure you want to do that?"
"Yes!" she said firmly.
Heaven help us if she becomes a circuit court judge.
Rachel gives fruit to Mommy
One of the best gifts I've bought Rachel was a package of play wooden fruit with a wooden knife. The fruit comes in halves that are held together with Velcro. There's also a wooden knife to cut the fruit.
When I suggested she bring a toy to dinner (she ate only a jar of apples and blueberries ans some trail mix before deciding she was finished with dinner), she lifted the tray of fruit from the coffee table in the living room and brought it to the kitchen. I was impressed and told her so -- it was heavy!
Then she proceeded to give me pieces of fruit. "They're hot," she said. "Blow on them."
So I did and declared that the strawberry and orange and banana and pear were the best I have ever tasted. She got such pleasure out of that. Then she offered me some of her trail mix and we had a nice discussion about what our favorite nuts are (hers are peanuts; mine are almonds).
She immediately helped me clear the table after dinner and then I told her to put the fruit back in the tray before we started on Mommy books and bath and songs and bed.
"Not a TRAY, Mommy!" she admonished. "It's a TABLE!"
And then she marched into the living room to put it back.
When I suggested she bring a toy to dinner (she ate only a jar of apples and blueberries ans some trail mix before deciding she was finished with dinner), she lifted the tray of fruit from the coffee table in the living room and brought it to the kitchen. I was impressed and told her so -- it was heavy!
Then she proceeded to give me pieces of fruit. "They're hot," she said. "Blow on them."
So I did and declared that the strawberry and orange and banana and pear were the best I have ever tasted. She got such pleasure out of that. Then she offered me some of her trail mix and we had a nice discussion about what our favorite nuts are (hers are peanuts; mine are almonds).
She immediately helped me clear the table after dinner and then I told her to put the fruit back in the tray before we started on Mommy books and bath and songs and bed.
"Not a TRAY, Mommy!" she admonished. "It's a TABLE!"
And then she marched into the living room to put it back.
Snippet from this morning
..on the way to daycare:
Rachel: Mommy, don't talk to me. Just drive. Leave me alone. Don't hit me. Don't push me. Don't bother me. You clean up the kitchen and pay bills. You do Mommy books, sing me songs. I go to bed.
That pretty much sums up my days, folks!
Rachel: Mommy, don't talk to me. Just drive. Leave me alone. Don't hit me. Don't push me. Don't bother me. You clean up the kitchen and pay bills. You do Mommy books, sing me songs. I go to bed.
That pretty much sums up my days, folks!
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Rachel moments
There are so many these days, it's hard to keep track:
Rachel has decided that she has a baby in her tummy (that's what I've told her about "the birds and the bees" so far). The other day on the way to school she said, "I have a baby in my tummy."
Me: Really, Rachel?
Rachel: Yeah. She's sick.
Me: What is she sick with?
Rachel: She not feeling well. I need to give her medicine.
She's growing up so fast, I totally understand why I have the pull to get pregnant again (plus several of my friends are expecting second children this spring). Oh, if we could have another one just as wonderful as Rachel! Realistically it probably won't happen, but still, I ask Rachel occasionally if she wants Mommy to have another baby.
Me: Rachel, do you want Mommy to have a baby?
Rachel (tonight): Yes.
Me: A boy or a girl?
Rachel (to my complete astonishment): A sweet little baby and a daughter.
Oh, I wish I could give her a sibling!
***
Conversation in the car on the way to daycare the other day:
Rachel: I go to work and Mommy go to school. I drive and Mommy sit in the car seat.
Me: What would you do at Mommy's work, sweetie?
Rachel: I go on the computer and look for the Molly song ("Obla-di, Obla-da," and she calls it the Molly song because one of the characters is named Molly).
Me: And then what would you do?
Rachel: Sing it!
***
Rachel declared the other day that she is a dinosaur. So now her favorite activity is racing from the coat closet to me while I'm at the kitchen sink cleaning up, and crashing into my legs.
"Rachel!" I wail. "Are you a dinosaur!?"
Rachel: Yes! And I bite you!
(she doesn't, really, she just pretends to).
So for those of you far, far away: Picture me on a Saturday night, sponging off some stew in a pot when a little girl hurls herself into me and I start yelling, "No! No! STOP! AGGHHHH!!!"
For the people who were in the same household as me when I was growing up, you will remember a certain red-headed panther jumping out at me as I went from the bathroom into the living room, and me giving a terrified wail. In other words: Life hasn't changed much.
Rachel has decided that she has a baby in her tummy (that's what I've told her about "the birds and the bees" so far). The other day on the way to school she said, "I have a baby in my tummy."
Me: Really, Rachel?
Rachel: Yeah. She's sick.
Me: What is she sick with?
Rachel: She not feeling well. I need to give her medicine.
She's growing up so fast, I totally understand why I have the pull to get pregnant again (plus several of my friends are expecting second children this spring). Oh, if we could have another one just as wonderful as Rachel! Realistically it probably won't happen, but still, I ask Rachel occasionally if she wants Mommy to have another baby.
Me: Rachel, do you want Mommy to have a baby?
Rachel (tonight): Yes.
Me: A boy or a girl?
Rachel (to my complete astonishment): A sweet little baby and a daughter.
Oh, I wish I could give her a sibling!
***
Conversation in the car on the way to daycare the other day:
Rachel: I go to work and Mommy go to school. I drive and Mommy sit in the car seat.
Me: What would you do at Mommy's work, sweetie?
Rachel: I go on the computer and look for the Molly song ("Obla-di, Obla-da," and she calls it the Molly song because one of the characters is named Molly).
Me: And then what would you do?
Rachel: Sing it!
***
Rachel declared the other day that she is a dinosaur. So now her favorite activity is racing from the coat closet to me while I'm at the kitchen sink cleaning up, and crashing into my legs.
"Rachel!" I wail. "Are you a dinosaur!?"
Rachel: Yes! And I bite you!
(she doesn't, really, she just pretends to).
So for those of you far, far away: Picture me on a Saturday night, sponging off some stew in a pot when a little girl hurls herself into me and I start yelling, "No! No! STOP! AGGHHHH!!!"
For the people who were in the same household as me when I was growing up, you will remember a certain red-headed panther jumping out at me as I went from the bathroom into the living room, and me giving a terrified wail. In other words: Life hasn't changed much.
Solo Saturday
This was one of the only Saturday that I have ever planned without a playdate. It's a big deal for me, since I've been frantically scheduling us so we (which really means "I," won't feel lonely. Actually, the playdate I'd scheduled fell through, so I figured between running around on errands and the two friends I'm seeing tomorrow, it wouldn't be so bad.
And it really wasn't. In fact, to my disappointment, I didn't get to do everything I wanted to. I figured I'd get the car washed (it was so dirty on the outside that it was becoming hazardous on the highway because I couldn't see who was in my blind spots), go grocery shopping, the bank and then the library. And the weather was so gorgeous -- sunny and warm-ish -- that I wanted to chuck everything and just go to the playground. I figured we'd hit the playground after we finished everything else.
Well, that didn't happen. We didn't even get out of the house until 1 or so -- I slept late, didn't get into poor Rachel's room until 10 or so (she handed me her apple-shaped icee with a binky in the middle of it and exclaimed, "birthday cake!" Is there any surprise that I love her so??), we had a leisurely breakfast and then I tried to do as much laundry as I could before Craig, my new tenant, arrived (he takes a class on Saturday mornings to get his helicopter license; it runs from 7 a.m. to noon). Rachel was extremely helpful today, clearing all her dishes from the table and coming down to the laundry area with me and taking all my clothes from the washer to the dryer.
(Oh, yes, she freaked me out by saying she wanted to get cereal for herself. She lifted the box of Cheerios, brought it to the table, took out the bag and with only a little assistance from me and poured it into the bowl! Yes, the day is coming where she'll be able to get out of her big-girl bed, toddle into the kitchen and make breakfast for herself before Mommy and Daddy stagger in behind her. Oh, happy day!)
So then between getting all of those errands done, we never made it to the playground. Or the library. But it was a busy day, and she insisted I sing a lot (her current fave is "The Mockingbird Song," the one that begins, "Hush little baby don't say a word..." she absolutely loves that). We sang at breakfast, in the car, and would have continued at Safeway except that we ran into former colleagues of mine from the newspaper. Then we got back, I unloaded the groceries, talked to Craig for a while, talked to Drew, paid bills and then it was time to wake Rachel up. We had a quiet dinner, I put her to sleep, talked to Drew again and then make chocolate-covered toffee bars for dessert tomorrow night (my friend and former newspaper colleague Anne is coming over for dinner and I hope to talk a lot about Sweet Adelines, which she just joined! Yay Anne!) and am finishing up with this blog before hitting the sack.
Sleep tight, everyone!
And it really wasn't. In fact, to my disappointment, I didn't get to do everything I wanted to. I figured I'd get the car washed (it was so dirty on the outside that it was becoming hazardous on the highway because I couldn't see who was in my blind spots), go grocery shopping, the bank and then the library. And the weather was so gorgeous -- sunny and warm-ish -- that I wanted to chuck everything and just go to the playground. I figured we'd hit the playground after we finished everything else.
Well, that didn't happen. We didn't even get out of the house until 1 or so -- I slept late, didn't get into poor Rachel's room until 10 or so (she handed me her apple-shaped icee with a binky in the middle of it and exclaimed, "birthday cake!" Is there any surprise that I love her so??), we had a leisurely breakfast and then I tried to do as much laundry as I could before Craig, my new tenant, arrived (he takes a class on Saturday mornings to get his helicopter license; it runs from 7 a.m. to noon). Rachel was extremely helpful today, clearing all her dishes from the table and coming down to the laundry area with me and taking all my clothes from the washer to the dryer.
(Oh, yes, she freaked me out by saying she wanted to get cereal for herself. She lifted the box of Cheerios, brought it to the table, took out the bag and with only a little assistance from me and poured it into the bowl! Yes, the day is coming where she'll be able to get out of her big-girl bed, toddle into the kitchen and make breakfast for herself before Mommy and Daddy stagger in behind her. Oh, happy day!)
So then between getting all of those errands done, we never made it to the playground. Or the library. But it was a busy day, and she insisted I sing a lot (her current fave is "The Mockingbird Song," the one that begins, "Hush little baby don't say a word..." she absolutely loves that). We sang at breakfast, in the car, and would have continued at Safeway except that we ran into former colleagues of mine from the newspaper. Then we got back, I unloaded the groceries, talked to Craig for a while, talked to Drew, paid bills and then it was time to wake Rachel up. We had a quiet dinner, I put her to sleep, talked to Drew again and then make chocolate-covered toffee bars for dessert tomorrow night (my friend and former newspaper colleague Anne is coming over for dinner and I hope to talk a lot about Sweet Adelines, which she just joined! Yay Anne!) and am finishing up with this blog before hitting the sack.
Sleep tight, everyone!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Assertive Rachel
Rachel appears to be blossoming into a confident young lady, for which I am very glad. A sampling:
Me (while cuddling her in the glider tonight): I love you, Rachel!
No response.
Me: And Daddy loves you too!
No response. Then...
Rachel: I love MYSELF!
Me: Do you love Mommy?
Rachel: (nods head)
Me: Do you love Daddy?
Rachel: (nods head)
Rachel: I love MYSELF!
I told her I was so glad she felt that way and that she definitely SHOULD love herself!
***
On the ledge above the changing table are two stuffed animals that keep falling down: an Uglydoll, which my former editor gave me when Rachel was born; and a mouse that came with the basket of flowers Ruth and Steve sent me while I was still in the hospital.
Rachel: Mr. Monster and Mr. Mouse, DON'T FALL DOWN! C'mon, guys, DON'T FALL DOWN!!
***
We got home late tonight because I was so wrapped up in a conversation about the gold standard with Drew (yes, we manage to have complex, geeky conversations even though we are separated by 3,000 miles). Result: Late dinner, me anxiously eyeing the clock because I have to mop the kitchen floor, look over a book about social media, organize my closet and, oh yeah, pay some bills. It is highly unlikely I will even attempt some of these tasks.
I started cleaning up and then asked Rachel to help me.
"No," she said firmly.
I nagged her a couple of times and then said firmly, "Rachel. Everyone in this house has their jobs to do -- you, me, and Daddy when he's around. PLEASE HELP CLEAR THE TABLE."
At which Rachel started crying. "I don't want to," she said.
"I don't care if you want to," I answered. "You have to. PLEASE CLEAR THE TABLE."
And then the most amazing thing happened. Still crying, she walked over to the table, picked up her plate and brought it to me. Then I told her to bring her cups of milk and water.
"I can't," she whined. "I spill."
"No you won't, honey," I said reassuringly. "Remember the last time you were afraid you'd spill but you brought over your cups and nothing spilled?" (this happened several weeks ago).
Well, she picked up her cup of milk and very carefully stood on tiptoes to set it on the kitchen counter. And then she got her water. And THEN, without me asking, she brought me her placemat.
"Thank you, Rachel!" I said. "That was very helpful to Mommy!"
She threw her napkin and my napkin in the garbage (she has taken to throwing her food wrappers into the garbage without me prompting her) and then helped me load silver in the dishwasher. When she wants to be (or, more accurately, when I make her, which I should do more often), she is a big help in the kitchen.
Me (while cuddling her in the glider tonight): I love you, Rachel!
No response.
Me: And Daddy loves you too!
No response. Then...
Rachel: I love MYSELF!
Me: Do you love Mommy?
Rachel: (nods head)
Me: Do you love Daddy?
Rachel: (nods head)
Rachel: I love MYSELF!
I told her I was so glad she felt that way and that she definitely SHOULD love herself!
***
On the ledge above the changing table are two stuffed animals that keep falling down: an Uglydoll, which my former editor gave me when Rachel was born; and a mouse that came with the basket of flowers Ruth and Steve sent me while I was still in the hospital.
Rachel: Mr. Monster and Mr. Mouse, DON'T FALL DOWN! C'mon, guys, DON'T FALL DOWN!!
***
We got home late tonight because I was so wrapped up in a conversation about the gold standard with Drew (yes, we manage to have complex, geeky conversations even though we are separated by 3,000 miles). Result: Late dinner, me anxiously eyeing the clock because I have to mop the kitchen floor, look over a book about social media, organize my closet and, oh yeah, pay some bills. It is highly unlikely I will even attempt some of these tasks.
I started cleaning up and then asked Rachel to help me.
"No," she said firmly.
I nagged her a couple of times and then said firmly, "Rachel. Everyone in this house has their jobs to do -- you, me, and Daddy when he's around. PLEASE HELP CLEAR THE TABLE."
At which Rachel started crying. "I don't want to," she said.
"I don't care if you want to," I answered. "You have to. PLEASE CLEAR THE TABLE."
And then the most amazing thing happened. Still crying, she walked over to the table, picked up her plate and brought it to me. Then I told her to bring her cups of milk and water.
"I can't," she whined. "I spill."
"No you won't, honey," I said reassuringly. "Remember the last time you were afraid you'd spill but you brought over your cups and nothing spilled?" (this happened several weeks ago).
Well, she picked up her cup of milk and very carefully stood on tiptoes to set it on the kitchen counter. And then she got her water. And THEN, without me asking, she brought me her placemat.
"Thank you, Rachel!" I said. "That was very helpful to Mommy!"
She threw her napkin and my napkin in the garbage (she has taken to throwing her food wrappers into the garbage without me prompting her) and then helped me load silver in the dishwasher. When she wants to be (or, more accurately, when I make her, which I should do more often), she is a big help in the kitchen.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Mini-me
It's unsettling how Rachel veers wildly from cute toddler to adolescent to worshipful friend. A sampling:
On the way to daycare this morning:
Me: Rachel, can I hug you when we get to school?
Rachel: No.
Me: Can I kiss you?
Rachel: No.
Pause.
Rachel (slightly exasperated?): Just go to work, Mommy.
****
We both have our favorite set of Christmas lights (yes, some people here STILL have theirs on). Rachel really wanted to see her favorites (multicolored ones strug atop an enclosed porch a block away from our house) and I was really relieved that they were still on.
"Thank you, people!" Rachel said as we passed by on the way home tonight. "Thank you for keeping your lights on, people! I proud of you!"
***
I make a big fuss when Rachel pees or poops in the potty, since she does it so infrequently. But tonight she turned the tables on her old mom. We both went into the bathroom together but Rachel changed her mind about using the potty. So I went to the bathroom.
Rachel peered into the toilet.
"Yay!" she yelled. "Mommy peed in the potty!"
***
As I said in a previous post, Rachel has started to use the music we know from various songs to make up her versions of songs, and she urges me to do the same. It's amazing how your mind expands when you're trying to keep up with a toddler!
Tonight she started singing the last words of "You are my Sunshine," the ones that say, "Please don't take/ my sunshine /away."
She substituted, in this order:
"Please don't take/my welcome/away."
"Pease don't take/my water and milk/away."
"Please don't take/Moroccan stew/away" (That's what I ate tonight; Rachel had jarred sweet potatoes and a bit of couscous).
"Please don't take/Mommy's milk/away."
"Please don't take/Mommy/away."
"Please don't take/Rachel/away."
"Please don't take/my pencil/away."
"Please don't take/my knife/away."
"Please don't take/the placemat/away."
"Please don't take/my fork/away."
"Please don't take/my spoon/away."
She probably would have gone on all night but something diverted her. For which I was glad.
On the way to daycare this morning:
Me: Rachel, can I hug you when we get to school?
Rachel: No.
Me: Can I kiss you?
Rachel: No.
Pause.
Rachel (slightly exasperated?): Just go to work, Mommy.
****
We both have our favorite set of Christmas lights (yes, some people here STILL have theirs on). Rachel really wanted to see her favorites (multicolored ones strug atop an enclosed porch a block away from our house) and I was really relieved that they were still on.
"Thank you, people!" Rachel said as we passed by on the way home tonight. "Thank you for keeping your lights on, people! I proud of you!"
***
I make a big fuss when Rachel pees or poops in the potty, since she does it so infrequently. But tonight she turned the tables on her old mom. We both went into the bathroom together but Rachel changed her mind about using the potty. So I went to the bathroom.
Rachel peered into the toilet.
"Yay!" she yelled. "Mommy peed in the potty!"
***
As I said in a previous post, Rachel has started to use the music we know from various songs to make up her versions of songs, and she urges me to do the same. It's amazing how your mind expands when you're trying to keep up with a toddler!
Tonight she started singing the last words of "You are my Sunshine," the ones that say, "Please don't take/ my sunshine /away."
She substituted, in this order:
"Please don't take/my welcome/away."
"Pease don't take/my water and milk/away."
"Please don't take/Moroccan stew/away" (That's what I ate tonight; Rachel had jarred sweet potatoes and a bit of couscous).
"Please don't take/Mommy's milk/away."
"Please don't take/Mommy/away."
"Please don't take/Rachel/away."
"Please don't take/my pencil/away."
"Please don't take/my knife/away."
"Please don't take/the placemat/away."
"Please don't take/my fork/away."
"Please don't take/my spoon/away."
She probably would have gone on all night but something diverted her. For which I was glad.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
I think she understands too much
This morning on the way to daycare I was singing the song, "Everybody Loves Saturday Night." It's one I remembered from summer camp and was a complete mystery to Drew, who claimed he had no idea what I was talking about. I thought he went to day camp, but maybe he was in a tent making lanyards when the rest of the kids were singing songs.
Anyway, "Everybody Loves Saturday Night" can be sung in multiple languages. I had gotten through the Nigerian and Italian translations and had started in on Yiddish when we pulled into daycare.
"Grandma and Grandpa speak Yiddish, sweetie," I told Rachel. "They never taught Mommy how to speak it, and they spoke it around me when they didn't want me to understand what they were saying. It was really annoying because I kept thinking, 'what is the point?'"
"You were frustrated, Mommy?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, honey," I laughed. "I was frustrated."
***
Tonight we sort of had a conversation about death. I was telling her that someday Grandma and Grandpa will die, and Mommy and Daddy will, too. And then I started to get a little weepy, because I can't stand the thought of Mom and Dad dying. And I can't stand the thought that Rachel will feel the same way about us someday. I hate for her to have to go through that.
"Daddy come back?" she said.
"Yes, Daddy will come back," I said.
"Daddy not die?"
"No, not for a long time," I said. (I was careful not to say "no, not ever," because I don't want to lie to her. I'd rather just fudge the truth until she's old enough to understand that any of us can go at any moment).
"Grandma die?" she said, a worried look on her face.
"Yes, Grandma will die someday," I said. "But not now."
That worried look stayed for a while until I started tickling her and kissing her at the same time (two things she professes to hate, but I never listen) and she got busy trying to stop me.
Anyway, "Everybody Loves Saturday Night" can be sung in multiple languages. I had gotten through the Nigerian and Italian translations and had started in on Yiddish when we pulled into daycare.
"Grandma and Grandpa speak Yiddish, sweetie," I told Rachel. "They never taught Mommy how to speak it, and they spoke it around me when they didn't want me to understand what they were saying. It was really annoying because I kept thinking, 'what is the point?'"
"You were frustrated, Mommy?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, honey," I laughed. "I was frustrated."
***
Tonight we sort of had a conversation about death. I was telling her that someday Grandma and Grandpa will die, and Mommy and Daddy will, too. And then I started to get a little weepy, because I can't stand the thought of Mom and Dad dying. And I can't stand the thought that Rachel will feel the same way about us someday. I hate for her to have to go through that.
"Daddy come back?" she said.
"Yes, Daddy will come back," I said.
"Daddy not die?"
"No, not for a long time," I said. (I was careful not to say "no, not ever," because I don't want to lie to her. I'd rather just fudge the truth until she's old enough to understand that any of us can go at any moment).
"Grandma die?" she said, a worried look on her face.
"Yes, Grandma will die someday," I said. "But not now."
That worried look stayed for a while until I started tickling her and kissing her at the same time (two things she professes to hate, but I never listen) and she got busy trying to stop me.
Monday, January 24, 2011
More random Rachel
The other night at dinner I asked her, "are you going to go away to college, or stay here?"
"I go AWAY," she said firmly. "I go to college in New York."
(Should I start preparing the applications for Columbia and NYU?)
***
Tonight she got very whiny when I told her I couldn't let her out as I was driving, she had to wait until we got home.
"No NO, highway!" she suddenly exclaimed. "No NO cars!"
I never figured out what she was mad at them for.
***
She has started to make up little songs that consist of everyday objects set to tunes that we know. This morning it was "pink cup, pink cup" (her pink sippy cup, into which I poured orange juice). Sung to the tune of "Frere Jacques." I was completely charmed. I'd much rather listen than join in!
***
"C'mon, people!" is a new favorite expression. If I say it at all, she'll elaborate. Tonight I was trying to get around a TriMet bus and said in exasperation, "C'MON, people!"
And then a little voice piped up from the back seat: "C'MON, people! We gotta get home for dinner!"
"I go AWAY," she said firmly. "I go to college in New York."
(Should I start preparing the applications for Columbia and NYU?)
***
Tonight she got very whiny when I told her I couldn't let her out as I was driving, she had to wait until we got home.
"No NO, highway!" she suddenly exclaimed. "No NO cars!"
I never figured out what she was mad at them for.
***
She has started to make up little songs that consist of everyday objects set to tunes that we know. This morning it was "pink cup, pink cup" (her pink sippy cup, into which I poured orange juice). Sung to the tune of "Frere Jacques." I was completely charmed. I'd much rather listen than join in!
***
"C'mon, people!" is a new favorite expression. If I say it at all, she'll elaborate. Tonight I was trying to get around a TriMet bus and said in exasperation, "C'MON, people!"
And then a little voice piped up from the back seat: "C'MON, people! We gotta get home for dinner!"
Rachel's tenderness
Rachel insisted on washing Drew's face and brushing his teeth while he was here; now she does the same to me. As I was getting ready to hoist her out of the bath tonight, she said, "Now I wash your face, Mommy."
She took her little pink washrag, swished it in the water and then squeezed it out a bit.
"Now I wipe the owie on your chin," she said cheerfully (really, it was a pimple that is about to erupt. Yes, folks, I am the only 44-year-old woman I know who STILL breaks out). Then I hauled her out before she could brush my teeth. She actually brushed them last night, so she probably figured I didn't need a second round.
She took her little pink washrag, swished it in the water and then squeezed it out a bit.
"Now I wipe the owie on your chin," she said cheerfully (really, it was a pimple that is about to erupt. Yes, folks, I am the only 44-year-old woman I know who STILL breaks out). Then I hauled her out before she could brush my teeth. She actually brushed them last night, so she probably figured I didn't need a second round.
A new playplace!
Rachel and I met Sarah, a friend of mine, and her 4-year-old son, Noah (we went to his birthday party about 3 weeks ago) at a new playplace in the ritzy Pearl district sort of near downtown Portland. It's called Playdate PDX and has only been open for a month. They brag about their great food (and are completely intolerant of folks bringing food from home, which I discovered when the Food Police descended upon us and sternly told us to close up the baby food and Lunchables. I was annoyed but I see their point -- rents in the Pearl are expensive and they gotta make a profit somehow) and it was only $5 to get Rachel in for the whole day (although $10 for Noah, which really annoyed Sarah and I can't blame her).
Anyway, it was a fantastic place -- air guns for shooting soft, round balls; three very steep slides to go down (which Rachel tried once on her own but then insisted on sitting in my lap the rest of the time and I couldn't blame her, those slides were VERY steep and we FLEW down, with me scared every time that I'd pitch forward at the end and crush Rachel); a game of Dodgeball with light-up blocks on the floor; etc. We had a terrific time and would have stayed longer if I didn't have a grown-up birthday celebration to go to in honor of my friend Julie, who recently turned 70.
It's also relevant to note that of the two adults and two kids who went to the playplace, guess who got hurt? One of the adults, of course -- Sarah, who was forced to buy socks there because she didn't have any, she came barefoot in flats -- and because the socks slid on the floor, she ended up falling on her butt and, as she said, "I heard something crunch."
Still, I'm hoping we can go back when Drew is home for spring break.
Anyway, it was a fantastic place -- air guns for shooting soft, round balls; three very steep slides to go down (which Rachel tried once on her own but then insisted on sitting in my lap the rest of the time and I couldn't blame her, those slides were VERY steep and we FLEW down, with me scared every time that I'd pitch forward at the end and crush Rachel); a game of Dodgeball with light-up blocks on the floor; etc. We had a terrific time and would have stayed longer if I didn't have a grown-up birthday celebration to go to in honor of my friend Julie, who recently turned 70.
It's also relevant to note that of the two adults and two kids who went to the playplace, guess who got hurt? One of the adults, of course -- Sarah, who was forced to buy socks there because she didn't have any, she came barefoot in flats -- and because the socks slid on the floor, she ended up falling on her butt and, as she said, "I heard something crunch."
Still, I'm hoping we can go back when Drew is home for spring break.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Going to the grocery store...
I wonder how long Rachel will think it's fun to troll the aisles of Fred Meyer, whose layout I have yet to memorize, looking for groceries? She is really a delightful little companion to shop with, to the point of me missing her when I have to run out for groceries myself.
On the way from Nikole's to the grocery store she announced rapidly what we were going to buy. Here's the list, in this order. Picture it delivered in a high-pitched voice, auctioneer style:
"Granola bars and napkins and diapers and cucumbers and salad dressing and salad and tomatoes and white pretzels and fishies. We kinda running out of fishies," she said.
(Fishies are goldfish-shaped graham crackers).
On the way from Nikole's to the grocery store she announced rapidly what we were going to buy. Here's the list, in this order. Picture it delivered in a high-pitched voice, auctioneer style:
"Granola bars and napkins and diapers and cucumbers and salad dressing and salad and tomatoes and white pretzels and fishies. We kinda running out of fishies," she said.
(Fishies are goldfish-shaped graham crackers).
The f-word
I should have expected this, but I was shocked this morning when Rachel said casually, "f----ng bacon" at breakfast. She wasn't mad or frustrated, she just linked the two together. The offhand manner in which she said it took my breath.
"WHAT did you say, Rachel?" I asked, unsure if I'd heard her correctly.
"F----ng bacon," she said again.
"NO, Rachel," I said sternly. "That's a bad word. Don't EVER say that!"
She burst into tears and I had to take her in my lap and let her eat the rest of her bacon before she calmed down.
Later, in the car on the way back from a playdate at my friend Nikole's house, she used the f-word again.
"NO, Rachel," I said sternly. She began snuffling a little and said, "Mommy can say it."
"NO, Mommy can't say it," I said. "Daddy can't say it. Rachel can't say it. It's a BAD WORD."
I'm very disturbed about this. They certainly don't curse at daycare, and Drew and I have been very careful not to use curse words around the house.
Later, while trying to get to something on my Smartphone, I said, "damn," very softly.
"Don't SAY that, Mommy," Rachel said. "That's bad word."
Touche, kid. You're one smart cookie.
"WHAT did you say, Rachel?" I asked, unsure if I'd heard her correctly.
"F----ng bacon," she said again.
"NO, Rachel," I said sternly. "That's a bad word. Don't EVER say that!"
She burst into tears and I had to take her in my lap and let her eat the rest of her bacon before she calmed down.
Later, in the car on the way back from a playdate at my friend Nikole's house, she used the f-word again.
"NO, Rachel," I said sternly. She began snuffling a little and said, "Mommy can say it."
"NO, Mommy can't say it," I said. "Daddy can't say it. Rachel can't say it. It's a BAD WORD."
I'm very disturbed about this. They certainly don't curse at daycare, and Drew and I have been very careful not to use curse words around the house.
Later, while trying to get to something on my Smartphone, I said, "damn," very softly.
"Don't SAY that, Mommy," Rachel said. "That's bad word."
Touche, kid. You're one smart cookie.
Friday, January 21, 2011
I'm disposable
It was raining this morning as we were about to leave for daycare and work. I tramped out to the lawn to retrieve the paper. When I returned, my raincoat was covered with raindrops.
"Are you wet, Mommy?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, sweetie," I answered.
Pause.
"I want a new Mommy," she said. "This one's all wet!"
"Are you wet, Mommy?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, sweetie," I answered.
Pause.
"I want a new Mommy," she said. "This one's all wet!"
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Recent Rachel-isms
Yesterday as we were driving to daycare, I pointed out a garbage truck down our street.
"YEAH!" she exclaimed.
Then, a block further down, she shouted, "GARBAGE TRUCK!"
Then: "I LOVE garbage trucks!"
(Are we sure she is, in fact, a girl? Whatever happened to the princess stage that all my friends with girls are going through?)
***
On Tuesday night after I put her to sleep, I heard her humming to herself. I tiptoed closer to the door and I could hear this tuneless noise coming from her room, smiled, and went into the kitchen to finish cleaning up from dinner.
Yesterday morning on the way to daycare I remarked that I had heard her humming.
"I hum in my crib," she replied.
Then: "I sing Yellow Submarine while you in kitchen cleaning up."
(I have introduced her to "Camptown Ladies," and, oh, did she ever take to it. She now makes me sing in three times in a row, she can't get enough of the words...and she memorized them fast enough so that today she was able to sing part of it with me. She refers to it as the "doo-dah" song. And she refers to "Obla-di, Obla-da," which Drew introduced her to, as the "Molly" song because the characters in the song are Desmond and Molly Jones. Man, I love the minds of toddlers!)
***
This morning she noticed a Band-Aid on my finger; I think I cut it somehow and the sharp pain was becoming annoying. So, I bandaged it.
"Mommy has an owie," she said.
Later as we were heading to the car she said, "I want a Band-Aid. Just like you!"
My heart started fluttering. My adorable 2 1/2 year old wants to be just like her Mommy? Am I really up to the task??
***
The teachers at daycare are having a "Pajama Party" for the kids tomorrow; we're supposed to bring the kids in pajamas (or their regular clothes accompanied by pajamas, and I believe that popcorn will be eaten. And candy, according to Rachel.
So here's how our conversation went tonight, just after I explained that we can't get strawberries or peaches, which she loves so much when Daddy buys them at the Farmers Market, because they're out of season.
"What are you going to eat at the pajama party, Rachel?" I asked.
"Strawberries and peaches," she replied. "I eat all them up."
"Are you going to share with the other kids?"
"No."
"Can Mommy come to the Pajama Party?"
"No." (Did I imagine a faint tone of derision in her voice?) "Mommy has to work."
***
A couple of blog posts back, I talked about the animal book we were reading, and how I told her she was a mammal, like Mommy, and she strenuously denied that. "I Rachel DEE SILVER!" she exclaimed at the time.
Tonight we were almost home when I called her "sweetie."
"I not your sweetie," she insisted.
"Yes, you are!" I answered.
"No, I not," she said. "I Rachel DeSilver!"
And as I was about to insist that she is, in fact, my sweetie, she said, "I a mammal!"
***
I'm beginning to think that Rachel has an imaginary friend named "Delly," who, as near as I can tell, is a girl. She refers to her a lot but has yet to supply an adequate description. Apparently they're in school together, and Rachel informed me at dinner tonight that Delly is coming over tomorrow night and they will both play with blocks but there are only two blocks for Mommy so Mommy will just have to watch them playing together. Or something like that. Really, it's hard to tell...
***
As we finished reading the 3rd Madeline book tonight (earlier, Rachel had stunned me by reading, "In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, lived..girls..straight lines...rain or shine." Which basically summed up the first page of the book. Our friend Amy says that memorization is the first sign that a kid is ready to read. Could Rachel be ready to read, really read, by age 3 or so? Be still my beating heart!)
Anyway, we had finished reading and Rachel looked at the letters on the wall atop her crib.
"R, A, C, H, E, L!" she exclaimed.
"You are AWESOME, Rachel!" I said, shocked. "What does that spell?"
"Mommy!" she answered.
"Um, no, sweetie," I said, laughing. "Try again."
"Daddy!" she said.
I think we have a while to go before she's ready for Twelfth Night.
"YEAH!" she exclaimed.
Then, a block further down, she shouted, "GARBAGE TRUCK!"
Then: "I LOVE garbage trucks!"
(Are we sure she is, in fact, a girl? Whatever happened to the princess stage that all my friends with girls are going through?)
***
On Tuesday night after I put her to sleep, I heard her humming to herself. I tiptoed closer to the door and I could hear this tuneless noise coming from her room, smiled, and went into the kitchen to finish cleaning up from dinner.
Yesterday morning on the way to daycare I remarked that I had heard her humming.
"I hum in my crib," she replied.
Then: "I sing Yellow Submarine while you in kitchen cleaning up."
(I have introduced her to "Camptown Ladies," and, oh, did she ever take to it. She now makes me sing in three times in a row, she can't get enough of the words...and she memorized them fast enough so that today she was able to sing part of it with me. She refers to it as the "doo-dah" song. And she refers to "Obla-di, Obla-da," which Drew introduced her to, as the "Molly" song because the characters in the song are Desmond and Molly Jones. Man, I love the minds of toddlers!)
***
This morning she noticed a Band-Aid on my finger; I think I cut it somehow and the sharp pain was becoming annoying. So, I bandaged it.
"Mommy has an owie," she said.
Later as we were heading to the car she said, "I want a Band-Aid. Just like you!"
My heart started fluttering. My adorable 2 1/2 year old wants to be just like her Mommy? Am I really up to the task??
***
The teachers at daycare are having a "Pajama Party" for the kids tomorrow; we're supposed to bring the kids in pajamas (or their regular clothes accompanied by pajamas, and I believe that popcorn will be eaten. And candy, according to Rachel.
So here's how our conversation went tonight, just after I explained that we can't get strawberries or peaches, which she loves so much when Daddy buys them at the Farmers Market, because they're out of season.
"What are you going to eat at the pajama party, Rachel?" I asked.
"Strawberries and peaches," she replied. "I eat all them up."
"Are you going to share with the other kids?"
"No."
"Can Mommy come to the Pajama Party?"
"No." (Did I imagine a faint tone of derision in her voice?) "Mommy has to work."
***
A couple of blog posts back, I talked about the animal book we were reading, and how I told her she was a mammal, like Mommy, and she strenuously denied that. "I Rachel DEE SILVER!" she exclaimed at the time.
Tonight we were almost home when I called her "sweetie."
"I not your sweetie," she insisted.
"Yes, you are!" I answered.
"No, I not," she said. "I Rachel DeSilver!"
And as I was about to insist that she is, in fact, my sweetie, she said, "I a mammal!"
***
I'm beginning to think that Rachel has an imaginary friend named "Delly," who, as near as I can tell, is a girl. She refers to her a lot but has yet to supply an adequate description. Apparently they're in school together, and Rachel informed me at dinner tonight that Delly is coming over tomorrow night and they will both play with blocks but there are only two blocks for Mommy so Mommy will just have to watch them playing together. Or something like that. Really, it's hard to tell...
***
As we finished reading the 3rd Madeline book tonight (earlier, Rachel had stunned me by reading, "In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, lived..girls..straight lines...rain or shine." Which basically summed up the first page of the book. Our friend Amy says that memorization is the first sign that a kid is ready to read. Could Rachel be ready to read, really read, by age 3 or so? Be still my beating heart!)
Anyway, we had finished reading and Rachel looked at the letters on the wall atop her crib.
"R, A, C, H, E, L!" she exclaimed.
"You are AWESOME, Rachel!" I said, shocked. "What does that spell?"
"Mommy!" she answered.
"Um, no, sweetie," I said, laughing. "Try again."
"Daddy!" she said.
I think we have a while to go before she's ready for Twelfth Night.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
humming a song...
Rachel has started humming little tunes to herself as she's going to sleep. It is so sweet! It's almost like she needs to sing to herself before she can really settle in for the night or for a nap.
Oh, and she has adopted a sing-songy voice when she's making a request, or telling us about her day, or just talking in general. So we sing-song back. It's like a game. Or the Oregon version of the Von Trapp Family singers; I can't decide which.
Oh, and she has adopted a sing-songy voice when she's making a request, or telling us about her day, or just talking in general. So we sing-song back. It's like a game. Or the Oregon version of the Von Trapp Family singers; I can't decide which.
Madeline
Rachel has really taken to the Madeline books by Ludwig Bertrams. For those of you who don't remember, they're the books about a little French girl named Madeline who lives in a school with 11 other girls and gets into a lot of adventures. The stories were written in the 1930s-1950s and we have four of them in small-size versions. I end up reading at least one or two of them to Rachel every night.
Last night as I rushed around preparing dinner, I left Rachel in her carseat for a while. When I came back she was reading "Madeline's Rescue." She has even memorized some of the pages! Tonight we read it together and I paused a couple of times to wait for her to fill in the right answer. And she did!
But if you read the books, they're quite...dark. One of them is about the spoiled French ambassador's son who lives next door. His name is Pepito and he does some awful, awful things...like build mini-guillotines and use them to chop off the heads of chickens! And another book has Madeline disobeying Miss Clavel by walking too close to the river (the Seine, I'm guessing), falling in and nearly drowning before a dog rescues her. "Madeline would surely be dead/except for a dog that kept it's head," the book says soberly, and I had to wince.
Oh, well, I guess it's better than Barney.
Last night as I rushed around preparing dinner, I left Rachel in her carseat for a while. When I came back she was reading "Madeline's Rescue." She has even memorized some of the pages! Tonight we read it together and I paused a couple of times to wait for her to fill in the right answer. And she did!
But if you read the books, they're quite...dark. One of them is about the spoiled French ambassador's son who lives next door. His name is Pepito and he does some awful, awful things...like build mini-guillotines and use them to chop off the heads of chickens! And another book has Madeline disobeying Miss Clavel by walking too close to the river (the Seine, I'm guessing), falling in and nearly drowning before a dog rescues her. "Madeline would surely be dead/except for a dog that kept it's head," the book says soberly, and I had to wince.
Oh, well, I guess it's better than Barney.
Two milestones, of sorts
Last night, Rachel asked if I wanted more milk, since my glass was almost empty. "I pour you some of mine," she said, getting up from her chair.
"Actually, Rachel, could you please go the refrigerator and get some more milk for Mommy?" I said. (I asked her this because I knew she'd be able to lift the milk carton since it was almost empty).
She toddled over to the fridge and tried to open the door. She couldn't get it at first. "Try, Rachel!" I urged. "Pull harder!"
She pulled and pulled, THEN OPENED THE DOOR, REACHED INSIDE, GRABBED THE MILK, BROUGHT IT OVER TO THE KITCHEN TABLE AND SET IT DOWN!!
Now I know how astonishing it is for parents when their kids do things like dress themselves, help themselves to their own food, do higher algebra, learn to drive. We're all so used to imagining our kids as helpless babies, totally dependent upon us to feed them, dress them, read to them, etc. Hard to believe Rachel will soon be doing more advanced tasks!
Before that, she did something hilarious. When I picked her up at daycare she was dressed like a little lumberjack, in a plaid boy's shirt that's a hand-me-down from friends of ours, plus a pair of brown jeans. She looked adorable, if a little masculine. As soon as she got home, she grabbed my fuzzy red hat, put it on her head and marched around the living room, her little face totally covered with the hat.
"I in my costume!" she said. "I trick or treat!"
It reminded me of how Daniella used to crack us all up by dressing in Mom's old clothes, jewelry and sunglasses, with that mop of red hair, then parade around the apartment saying and doing funny things. Rachel, it seems, is a throwback to Tia Daniella!
"Actually, Rachel, could you please go the refrigerator and get some more milk for Mommy?" I said. (I asked her this because I knew she'd be able to lift the milk carton since it was almost empty).
She toddled over to the fridge and tried to open the door. She couldn't get it at first. "Try, Rachel!" I urged. "Pull harder!"
She pulled and pulled, THEN OPENED THE DOOR, REACHED INSIDE, GRABBED THE MILK, BROUGHT IT OVER TO THE KITCHEN TABLE AND SET IT DOWN!!
Now I know how astonishing it is for parents when their kids do things like dress themselves, help themselves to their own food, do higher algebra, learn to drive. We're all so used to imagining our kids as helpless babies, totally dependent upon us to feed them, dress them, read to them, etc. Hard to believe Rachel will soon be doing more advanced tasks!
Before that, she did something hilarious. When I picked her up at daycare she was dressed like a little lumberjack, in a plaid boy's shirt that's a hand-me-down from friends of ours, plus a pair of brown jeans. She looked adorable, if a little masculine. As soon as she got home, she grabbed my fuzzy red hat, put it on her head and marched around the living room, her little face totally covered with the hat.
"I in my costume!" she said. "I trick or treat!"
It reminded me of how Daniella used to crack us all up by dressing in Mom's old clothes, jewelry and sunglasses, with that mop of red hair, then parade around the apartment saying and doing funny things. Rachel, it seems, is a throwback to Tia Daniella!
2 1/2 going on 14??
Rachel is a drill sergeant these days, despite our best efforts to make her say please and thank you (MY best efforts; Drew went back to Columbia on Monday. Thus the fact that the blog has been silent for nearly a week).
Today as we were driving to Salem, she said: "Don't TALK, Mommy. Just DRIVE." Oh, I can't wait to hear her say that when she's older and she views me as a chaffeur and little else...
At daycare, Rachel was apparently upset that she didn't get a scooter to ride on in the "Big Room." When one kid came up to try to comfort her, she held out her arm and said, "Give me some space!" (Drew was astonished to hear this, since we NEVER use that expression at home. It's definitely a daycare thing).
Today as we were driving to Salem, she said: "Don't TALK, Mommy. Just DRIVE." Oh, I can't wait to hear her say that when she's older and she views me as a chaffeur and little else...
At daycare, Rachel was apparently upset that she didn't get a scooter to ride on in the "Big Room." When one kid came up to try to comfort her, she held out her arm and said, "Give me some space!" (Drew was astonished to hear this, since we NEVER use that expression at home. It's definitely a daycare thing).
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sensitive little girl
Drew and I got into a tremendous fight yesterday afternoon from which we are still not fully recovered. Rachel sensed my sadness as I was driving home (Drew was in Seattle visiting the Times, where he was told that the newspaper's economic outlook is dire and he'll probably have to take a furlough week next year) and she said suddenly, "Mommy, don't be sad."
Then, at dinner, I started coughing. She slid off her chair, came around the table and said, "let me give you a hug and kiss and make you feel better."
She did, and I did.
I find it astonishing that she's so attuned to our emotions, but she is, after all 2 1/2 years old as of today. So maybe I should stop thinking of her as a baby and more as a kid.
Then, at dinner, I started coughing. She slid off her chair, came around the table and said, "let me give you a hug and kiss and make you feel better."
She did, and I did.
I find it astonishing that she's so attuned to our emotions, but she is, after all 2 1/2 years old as of today. So maybe I should stop thinking of her as a baby and more as a kid.
She's ready to drive. NOW.
When we got home from work/school tonight, Rachel decided she didn't want Drew to take her out of the car. Nor did she want Mommy to do it. She just wanted to sit for a while.
Drew eventually unbuckled her out of the car seat and then we rushed around getting dinner on the table and putting things away. Then suddenly he said, "Lisa. Come here. This is Rachel in about 13 years."
She had worked her way into the driver's seat and was sitting with her hands on the steering wheel! After Drew questioned her a bit, he came back inside, shook his head and said, "she's ready for her Learner's Permit. RIGHT. NOW."
As someone who can't believe Rachel will ever use the toilet, write her name or make a meal for herself without intense supervision, I find the idea of her driving herself anywhere quite laughable. But I'm told it happens faster than you think.
Drew eventually unbuckled her out of the car seat and then we rushed around getting dinner on the table and putting things away. Then suddenly he said, "Lisa. Come here. This is Rachel in about 13 years."
She had worked her way into the driver's seat and was sitting with her hands on the steering wheel! After Drew questioned her a bit, he came back inside, shook his head and said, "she's ready for her Learner's Permit. RIGHT. NOW."
As someone who can't believe Rachel will ever use the toilet, write her name or make a meal for herself without intense supervision, I find the idea of her driving herself anywhere quite laughable. But I'm told it happens faster than you think.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
More catchup
The week got away from me. Here's what's new in Rachel-land:
Yesterday we went to a birthday at a fantastic kids' play place called Pump It Up. Basically it's a giant warehouse space with a bunch of separate play areas filled with inflatables! Bouncing houses, steep slides...it's a treasure trove for kids (and I had a lot of fun on the slide myself because it was REALLY steep and fast!). Drew took Rachel up the steep slide first and she went down with him, oh, maybe twice before she wanted to do it HERSELF. I took a couple of pictures of the look on her face as she came speeding down. Rachel was the youngest child at the party (it was in honor of a 4-year-old boy) and the boy's grandfather remarked several times how impressed he was that Rachel was able to go down by herself with no fear. "Little daredevil!" he called her, and I was secretly pleased.
The 90-minute party flew by and ended with cake, juice and party favor bags. When we got back into the car Rachel said, "I wanna go to ANOTHER birthday party!" and we had to explain to her several times that this was a special occasion and she may be invited to many birthday parties in the future, just not today. She did not like that AT ALL.
Then Drew and I went to dinner and a movie. Rachel barely looked up when we left; she was so absorbed playing with Angela, our favorite (and so far, only) babysitter. Hard to believe she's growing up enough not to be freaked out when we leave!
Tonight we made dinner for our friends Melissa and Steve and their two kids, Natalie (9) and Jeremy (11). Rachel shocked me when Steve asked when her birthday is and she answered matter-of-factly, "July." How does she KNOW that? I remarked.
"There's a lot more going on inside there than you think," Drew reminded me, and of course he is right.
Rachel also surprised us by eating roasted potatoes. Less shocking was her delight in the dessert I made -- chocolate almond raspberry tart. It's definitely a keeper -- very easy to make and fantastically delicious -- and of course she wanted some. This morning while I was making it, she expressed interest in wanting to help. So I instructed her how to crush the chocolate wafers that made up the crust, and she helped me press it into the pan, and I snuck some crumbs to her and nibbled some myself...and the whole time I was flashing back to when I was a little girl and all I wanted to do was help Mom in the kitchen and become the same excellent cook and hostess that she was.
If tonight is any gauge, then I have succeeded. Thanks Mom!
Yesterday we went to a birthday at a fantastic kids' play place called Pump It Up. Basically it's a giant warehouse space with a bunch of separate play areas filled with inflatables! Bouncing houses, steep slides...it's a treasure trove for kids (and I had a lot of fun on the slide myself because it was REALLY steep and fast!). Drew took Rachel up the steep slide first and she went down with him, oh, maybe twice before she wanted to do it HERSELF. I took a couple of pictures of the look on her face as she came speeding down. Rachel was the youngest child at the party (it was in honor of a 4-year-old boy) and the boy's grandfather remarked several times how impressed he was that Rachel was able to go down by herself with no fear. "Little daredevil!" he called her, and I was secretly pleased.
The 90-minute party flew by and ended with cake, juice and party favor bags. When we got back into the car Rachel said, "I wanna go to ANOTHER birthday party!" and we had to explain to her several times that this was a special occasion and she may be invited to many birthday parties in the future, just not today. She did not like that AT ALL.
Then Drew and I went to dinner and a movie. Rachel barely looked up when we left; she was so absorbed playing with Angela, our favorite (and so far, only) babysitter. Hard to believe she's growing up enough not to be freaked out when we leave!
Tonight we made dinner for our friends Melissa and Steve and their two kids, Natalie (9) and Jeremy (11). Rachel shocked me when Steve asked when her birthday is and she answered matter-of-factly, "July." How does she KNOW that? I remarked.
"There's a lot more going on inside there than you think," Drew reminded me, and of course he is right.
Rachel also surprised us by eating roasted potatoes. Less shocking was her delight in the dessert I made -- chocolate almond raspberry tart. It's definitely a keeper -- very easy to make and fantastically delicious -- and of course she wanted some. This morning while I was making it, she expressed interest in wanting to help. So I instructed her how to crush the chocolate wafers that made up the crust, and she helped me press it into the pan, and I snuck some crumbs to her and nibbled some myself...and the whole time I was flashing back to when I was a little girl and all I wanted to do was help Mom in the kitchen and become the same excellent cook and hostess that she was.
If tonight is any gauge, then I have succeeded. Thanks Mom!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
"Look at me go!"
That's what Rachel said tonight as she tucked into a big plate of spaghetti. She managed to wrap a chunk of it around her big-person fork but couldn't get it to stay. I did manage to shoot some video and take a photo of her, she looked so cute!
Drew said she washed his hands and brushed his teeth tonight. I was busy interviewing a prospective tenant. Keep your fingers crossed, folks, I really like this guy.
In the car this morning she said, "I draw you a butterfly, Mom!" Then seconds later she said, "I can't. I have to get bigger."
She also said, "When I was a little baby, I drive. Forever and ever and ever."
Look at me, indeed!
Drew said she washed his hands and brushed his teeth tonight. I was busy interviewing a prospective tenant. Keep your fingers crossed, folks, I really like this guy.
In the car this morning she said, "I draw you a butterfly, Mom!" Then seconds later she said, "I can't. I have to get bigger."
She also said, "When I was a little baby, I drive. Forever and ever and ever."
Look at me, indeed!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
"I have a Mommy AND a Daddy!"
That's what Rachel has taken to saying lately, poor thing. Drew thinks it's to reassure herself that she has not only Mommy, but DADDY to love and take care of her. This was a bit on display when Suzanne, Steve and Lila visited on Sunday. Of course it was hilarious watching the girls together -- they ran through the house, slamming doors (unintentionally, I'm sure) and screaming with laughter and fake panic when they discovered the rooms they were in were DARK. Then they decided it would be tremendous fun to climb all over Drew, and then he and Steve gave the girls piggyback rides, and then the daddies switched kids...I'll try to get a picture up sometime soon.
During dinner Lila said, "MY daddy's in the dining room!"
To which Rachel replied, "MY daddy's in the kitchen!"
Then Lila answered, "MY daddy's in the kitchen!"
And Rachel said, "MY daddy's in the dining room!"
It was very funny to listen to them echoing each other. They really have a lot of fun together, and although Suzanne is expecting a second girl at the beginning of February, I secured another playdate with her and Lila the last weekend of January -- unless the baby decides to come early, of course.
***
Yesterday I worked a half-day in the morning while Drew took Rachel to school. He had just pulled off the highway when she decided to throw up all over her jacket, her pants, her car seat...and I told Drew that this has never happened to me, so I can't really complain anymore that I do ALL the driving of Rachel EVERY DAY, because at least I haven't had to deal with throwup. Yet.
Slightly disturbing to me was the fact that she kept sobbing and sobbing with fear that Drew would be mad at her for throwing up. Quite the contrary -- he kept reassuring and reassuring her that it's OK to throw up, that even mommies and daddies throw up, that he wasn't mad, etc. It took her a while to calm down.
She has complained for the last few days that "my tummy hurts!" so I guess we should have listened to her, but there's not much we can do. We can't give her Tums or Pepto-Bismol, so I hope whatever it is that's ailing her speeds away soon.
The ride home was better, Drew said -- she played with Play-Doh in the back seat and even made up a SONG about Play-Doh: "Play-Doh, Play-Doh, Play-Doh, Play-Doh" which sounds adorable when you hear it. When she got back home, she informed me she had made a worm out of the stuff, and then she called me over to the table: "Look, Mommy, I made a skateboard for you!" she said. And it looked like a skateboard! A very small one, but still...
During dinner Lila said, "MY daddy's in the dining room!"
To which Rachel replied, "MY daddy's in the kitchen!"
Then Lila answered, "MY daddy's in the kitchen!"
And Rachel said, "MY daddy's in the dining room!"
It was very funny to listen to them echoing each other. They really have a lot of fun together, and although Suzanne is expecting a second girl at the beginning of February, I secured another playdate with her and Lila the last weekend of January -- unless the baby decides to come early, of course.
***
Yesterday I worked a half-day in the morning while Drew took Rachel to school. He had just pulled off the highway when she decided to throw up all over her jacket, her pants, her car seat...and I told Drew that this has never happened to me, so I can't really complain anymore that I do ALL the driving of Rachel EVERY DAY, because at least I haven't had to deal with throwup. Yet.
Slightly disturbing to me was the fact that she kept sobbing and sobbing with fear that Drew would be mad at her for throwing up. Quite the contrary -- he kept reassuring and reassuring her that it's OK to throw up, that even mommies and daddies throw up, that he wasn't mad, etc. It took her a while to calm down.
She has complained for the last few days that "my tummy hurts!" so I guess we should have listened to her, but there's not much we can do. We can't give her Tums or Pepto-Bismol, so I hope whatever it is that's ailing her speeds away soon.
The ride home was better, Drew said -- she played with Play-Doh in the back seat and even made up a SONG about Play-Doh: "Play-Doh, Play-Doh, Play-Doh, Play-Doh" which sounds adorable when you hear it. When she got back home, she informed me she had made a worm out of the stuff, and then she called me over to the table: "Look, Mommy, I made a skateboard for you!" she said. And it looked like a skateboard! A very small one, but still...
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Happy New Year!
Please forgive me, folks...the time got away from me, what with Molly here and then me getting really, really ill on New Year's Eve and spending much of New Year's Day in bed. I'll try to catch you up:
Molly graciously offered to babysit Rachel while Drew and I took a quick jaunt to the Oregon coast. We stayed in a lovely place called the Arch Cape Inn, saw "True Grit" and took a long walk on the beach in gorgeous, sunny (but cold) weather. Unfortunately Drew had a terrible cold the whole time, meaning neither of us slept well, but we had a good time anyway. And we even managed to not talk about TLG. Much.
When we got home we discovered that Molly had turned into Mary Poppins. Seriously! She got Rachel to wear Pull-Ups instead of diapers, got her to wear skirts and leggings and took her to Goodwill, which apparently Rachel absolutely loved. Molly bought her some play jewelry, a jewelry box, a skirt or two...I've lost track. And, she also cleaned out our refrigerator. "You have food that's been in here since Rachel was an INFANT," said Molly, shaking her head. And she was right, it was very embarrassing. Anyway, we have a refreshed-looking refrigrerator and a toddler who is inching closer and closer to little-girlhood every day. (Today Drew said, "sometimes it feels as if Rachel is halfway between 6 months and age 12!" and it's true).
For New Year's, I was all set to make an elaborate roast duck dish, but then discovered, while Drew and Rachel were napping, that we had no mustard (Molly had gone out for a while to take a walk) and so decided to chuck the whole thing and order Thai food (I had already make the pumpkin-cocoa cake I had make for Thanksgiving). Luckily Drew came to the rescue by finding a simpler duck recipe, one which did not involve ruby Port and crushed garlic (what was I THINKING?) and we proceeded with the duck, sweet potato gratin and green beans with lemon vinaigrette. And the cake. We were joined by Angela, our favorite babysitter -- did I mention that all our other guests had cancelled on us for one reason or another? -- and had a great time. Drew put Rachel to bed and built us a fire; Angela went home at 11 or so and Molly and I fell asleep by the fire while Drew cleaned up. That was the point at which I started feeling nauseous.
The next day, yesterday, I spent much of the time shuttling between bedroom and bathroom (I'll spare you the details except that all I could manage to eat was a cup of yogurt, half a plate of couscous, a can of ginger ale and a cup of applesauce). Molly's ex-husband dropped the kids off in the morning for the ride to the airport, which was delayed for two hours because Molly's plane was delayed. So poor Drew and Molly had to manage all the kids while I rested. All I can say is, thank goodness this happened when Drew was here and not while he was at Columbia (although he said he would have talked me out of making such an elaborate New Year's dinner).
Today I am feeling much better and we are awaiting the arrival of Steve, Suzanne and their daughter, Lila, who loves Rachel. They are about the same age and are so cute when they're together -- running, screeching with laughter, hugging and kissing each other goodbye. I will try to remember to take pictures and send them along.
Cute Rachel-isms of the past few days:
--Rachel (looking at a picture of Drew and me in Argentina): "That's Mommy in a fancy dress!"
--Drew was holding Rachel when she said she had an owie. On her leg, she told Drew. "I need an icee!" she complained (icees are frozen soothies at daycare that the attendants give to kids when they get injured).
"How did you get an owie?" Drew asked.
"Alex," she said.
"Is Alex a boy at school?" Drew asked.
"Alexander Graham Bell," she replied, clear as...well, a phone call to Europe!
--Her newest expression: "Holy moly guacamole!" (She got that from Drew. Next up: Latin declensions??)
Molly graciously offered to babysit Rachel while Drew and I took a quick jaunt to the Oregon coast. We stayed in a lovely place called the Arch Cape Inn, saw "True Grit" and took a long walk on the beach in gorgeous, sunny (but cold) weather. Unfortunately Drew had a terrible cold the whole time, meaning neither of us slept well, but we had a good time anyway. And we even managed to not talk about TLG. Much.
When we got home we discovered that Molly had turned into Mary Poppins. Seriously! She got Rachel to wear Pull-Ups instead of diapers, got her to wear skirts and leggings and took her to Goodwill, which apparently Rachel absolutely loved. Molly bought her some play jewelry, a jewelry box, a skirt or two...I've lost track. And, she also cleaned out our refrigerator. "You have food that's been in here since Rachel was an INFANT," said Molly, shaking her head. And she was right, it was very embarrassing. Anyway, we have a refreshed-looking refrigrerator and a toddler who is inching closer and closer to little-girlhood every day. (Today Drew said, "sometimes it feels as if Rachel is halfway between 6 months and age 12!" and it's true).
For New Year's, I was all set to make an elaborate roast duck dish, but then discovered, while Drew and Rachel were napping, that we had no mustard (Molly had gone out for a while to take a walk) and so decided to chuck the whole thing and order Thai food (I had already make the pumpkin-cocoa cake I had make for Thanksgiving). Luckily Drew came to the rescue by finding a simpler duck recipe, one which did not involve ruby Port and crushed garlic (what was I THINKING?) and we proceeded with the duck, sweet potato gratin and green beans with lemon vinaigrette. And the cake. We were joined by Angela, our favorite babysitter -- did I mention that all our other guests had cancelled on us for one reason or another? -- and had a great time. Drew put Rachel to bed and built us a fire; Angela went home at 11 or so and Molly and I fell asleep by the fire while Drew cleaned up. That was the point at which I started feeling nauseous.
The next day, yesterday, I spent much of the time shuttling between bedroom and bathroom (I'll spare you the details except that all I could manage to eat was a cup of yogurt, half a plate of couscous, a can of ginger ale and a cup of applesauce). Molly's ex-husband dropped the kids off in the morning for the ride to the airport, which was delayed for two hours because Molly's plane was delayed. So poor Drew and Molly had to manage all the kids while I rested. All I can say is, thank goodness this happened when Drew was here and not while he was at Columbia (although he said he would have talked me out of making such an elaborate New Year's dinner).
Today I am feeling much better and we are awaiting the arrival of Steve, Suzanne and their daughter, Lila, who loves Rachel. They are about the same age and are so cute when they're together -- running, screeching with laughter, hugging and kissing each other goodbye. I will try to remember to take pictures and send them along.
Cute Rachel-isms of the past few days:
--Rachel (looking at a picture of Drew and me in Argentina): "That's Mommy in a fancy dress!"
--Drew was holding Rachel when she said she had an owie. On her leg, she told Drew. "I need an icee!" she complained (icees are frozen soothies at daycare that the attendants give to kids when they get injured).
"How did you get an owie?" Drew asked.
"Alex," she said.
"Is Alex a boy at school?" Drew asked.
"Alexander Graham Bell," she replied, clear as...well, a phone call to Europe!
--Her newest expression: "Holy moly guacamole!" (She got that from Drew. Next up: Latin declensions??)
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