Today was Rachel's last day in Toddlers (sniff!); tomorrow she's with the Beginners in the preschool room. I noticed they have a big tent set up in there, which hopefully will get Rachel used to the idea of camping (we already play "camping" at home; every night after she demands that I lie down so she can tickle me, Rachel then orders me to play "tent," which consists of us lying on one of her blankies and then covering ourselves up with one of her bigger blankets so that all we can see is each others' faces. Then she giggles and says, "Mommy, DON'T CLOSE YOUR EYES!").
Anyway, as I said our last goodbyes to Teacher Jennifer, she told me that the other day, one of the other girls in Toddlers hurt her fingers somehow and started crying. So Rachel walked over to her and started kissing her hands and said soothingly, "it's OK, honey!" I was AMAZED to hear that. I love the fact that we're raising a sensitive, compassionate little girl.
***
For months now I've been teaching Rachel to say as we leave school at the end of the day, "goodbye Jennifer/Lianna/Jolene! Thank you for taking care of me!" Only last week or so has she started saying it on her own without me prompting her.
Today she turned the tables on me. As I was bracing myself for the morning ritual of her crying and clutching on to me as I left, she quite cheerfully prepared to join the other toddlers at the table. Then she turned to me and said in a friendly little voice, "Goodybe! Thank you for taking care of me!"
It's nice to start the workday with a laugh.
***
Tonight we were talking about something or other and Rachel looked at me and said, "I appreciate it." I almost fell over.
***
Also tonight, I re-warmed some baked chicken that I had raided from the deep freezer (I'm trying to eat everything down before Drew gets home. Also trying to make room for some more soups and stews since the larder is empty and I need food to take us through next week, the week after and the days after we get back from NYC, before I can get to a grocery store).
"This is my favorite chicken," I told her as I cut it up in small pieces (Rachel will only eat skinless chicken, and only white meat). "It's Daddy's favorite, too. Grandma used to make this chicken for Mommy when she was little."
"Did she hold you and put you to bed?" Rachel asked.
I reeled, breathless. For a moment I couldn't answer.
"Yes," I replied. "She did."
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
You know you're a mom when
you see two mallards on the sidewalk, like I did yesterday, and all you can think of is how you wish your toddler was there so you could say, "Look, Rachel! Mr. and Mrs. Mallard from the "Make Way for Ducklings" book! They flew all the way to Salem just to visit! Hi Mr. Mallard! Hi Mrs. Mallard! Glad to see you!"
Yes, I really am losing it. Clearly it is time for Drew to come home.
***
Little worry item for today: Rachel seemed listless around dinnertime. She liked working on her puzzles and making me pretend fruit soup, but as we got ready for bed she kind of collapsed into my arms and just kept hugging and holding on to me. She didn't even want any songs; she said she was sleepy and wanted to go to bed.
This is the second night she has barely eaten anything. Tonight she had a few bites of rigatoni and last night is was 3/4 of a jar of apple butternut squash. I looked into her lunch bag today and the only thing she had eaten was a tiny cup of strawberries I had packed, along with other treats like yogurt, an orange and some raisins.
She also kept complaining that her ear hurt, that she had a headache, that her neck hurt and her feet hurt. I hope she isn't sick or, worse...well, I won't allow my mind to go there. I hope her appetite recovers tomorrow. If not, I may have to take her to the doctor next week.
Yes, I really am losing it. Clearly it is time for Drew to come home.
***
Little worry item for today: Rachel seemed listless around dinnertime. She liked working on her puzzles and making me pretend fruit soup, but as we got ready for bed she kind of collapsed into my arms and just kept hugging and holding on to me. She didn't even want any songs; she said she was sleepy and wanted to go to bed.
This is the second night she has barely eaten anything. Tonight she had a few bites of rigatoni and last night is was 3/4 of a jar of apple butternut squash. I looked into her lunch bag today and the only thing she had eaten was a tiny cup of strawberries I had packed, along with other treats like yogurt, an orange and some raisins.
She also kept complaining that her ear hurt, that she had a headache, that her neck hurt and her feet hurt. I hope she isn't sick or, worse...well, I won't allow my mind to go there. I hope her appetite recovers tomorrow. If not, I may have to take her to the doctor next week.
Rachel's taste in music
...clearly does not jibe with mine. A conversation this evening, after I had begun playing two CDs of Big Band music:
Me: This is Big Band music, Rachel. Do you like it?
Rachel: I don't like Big Band music.
Me: Why?
Rachel: It's kinda yucky.
Me: Well, what kind of music DO you like?
Rachel: Wheels on the Bus!
Me: This is Big Band music, Rachel. Do you like it?
Rachel: I don't like Big Band music.
Me: Why?
Rachel: It's kinda yucky.
Me: Well, what kind of music DO you like?
Rachel: Wheels on the Bus!
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
What's sadder than klezmer music?
..that would be Rachel singing, at random, one of the verses from "Sunrise Sunset." Again, apropos of nothing, in a childish voice that would break your heart (or at least bring tears to your eyes):
"I don't remember growing older...when did they?"
Oh, Rachel, if only you knew how truly that reflected reality....
***
On the way to school/work this morning, Rachel peppered me with the oddest questions:
Rachel: Are we on the house?
Me: No.
Rachel: Are we fixing the roof?
Me: No.
Rachel: Are we going on a fire truck?
Me: No.
Rachel: Are we going on an ambulance?
Me: No.
Rachel: Are we going on a police car?
Me: No.
Rachel: Are we going in the bathtub?
Me: Um, no.
Rachel: Are we going to lie on top of the trees?
Me (laughing): No!
***
When I picked Rachel up at school tonight, Teacher Jennifer at school informed me today that Rachel was singing a Beatles song earlier in the day.
"You must mean 'Yesterday,'" I said.
"Yes!" she replied. "She was so cute. I asked her how she knew that song and she said, 'my mom.'"
(Sorry, Drew, I know you're the one who sang it to her first, but I believe that it is now a "Mommy song." As is "This Land is Your Land." Take comfort in the fact that you are still the only one in the household who knows "Big Rock Candy Mountain" and can sing it flawlessly).
***
Tonight, as I was preparing dinner, Rachel decided to make me some "matzo ball soup." She asked for a bowl.
I got a wooden bowl I'd brought back from Africa down from the top shelf of one of our cabinets and set it on the floor. She proceeded to fill it with all the wooden fruits we bought her months ago and that she loves playing with -- the ones that attach with Velcro in the middle, so you can cut them in half with a wooden knife.
She was so proud of her handiwork and beamed when I praised the soup. So in between bites of leftover Moroccan stew, I was required to eat "strawberries." And "kiwi." And "lemons." And "oranges." I pronounced everything delicious.
She was in good spirits the whole night, and, as is the norm these days -- cleaned up her toys and brought them into the living room, then ran back into the kitchen and insisted on clearing all the plates.
"I don't remember growing older...when did they?"
Oh, Rachel, if only you knew how truly that reflected reality....
***
On the way to school/work this morning, Rachel peppered me with the oddest questions:
Rachel: Are we on the house?
Me: No.
Rachel: Are we fixing the roof?
Me: No.
Rachel: Are we going on a fire truck?
Me: No.
Rachel: Are we going on an ambulance?
Me: No.
Rachel: Are we going on a police car?
Me: No.
Rachel: Are we going in the bathtub?
Me: Um, no.
Rachel: Are we going to lie on top of the trees?
Me (laughing): No!
***
When I picked Rachel up at school tonight, Teacher Jennifer at school informed me today that Rachel was singing a Beatles song earlier in the day.
"You must mean 'Yesterday,'" I said.
"Yes!" she replied. "She was so cute. I asked her how she knew that song and she said, 'my mom.'"
(Sorry, Drew, I know you're the one who sang it to her first, but I believe that it is now a "Mommy song." As is "This Land is Your Land." Take comfort in the fact that you are still the only one in the household who knows "Big Rock Candy Mountain" and can sing it flawlessly).
***
Tonight, as I was preparing dinner, Rachel decided to make me some "matzo ball soup." She asked for a bowl.
I got a wooden bowl I'd brought back from Africa down from the top shelf of one of our cabinets and set it on the floor. She proceeded to fill it with all the wooden fruits we bought her months ago and that she loves playing with -- the ones that attach with Velcro in the middle, so you can cut them in half with a wooden knife.
She was so proud of her handiwork and beamed when I praised the soup. So in between bites of leftover Moroccan stew, I was required to eat "strawberries." And "kiwi." And "lemons." And "oranges." I pronounced everything delicious.
She was in good spirits the whole night, and, as is the norm these days -- cleaned up her toys and brought them into the living room, then ran back into the kitchen and insisted on clearing all the plates.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Our little empath
I had a hard day at work -- racing to complete the final proofs on the magazine before it went to the designer, I didn't have time to swim. Or, for that matter, eat lunch. Or go to the bathroom.
When I picked Rachel up, she was reading a book in the babies' room. As soon as she saw me she jumped off the chair, carefully placed the book on the shelf and raced toward me yelling, "Mommy!!" I swept her up in my arms (she was already hugging my shoulders and putting her head on my neck) and said, "oh, I am SO glad to see you!!'
The rest of the night proceeded normally: She slept on the way home, and when we got into the garage she said she wanted to stay in her car seat for a while. I went inside, changed clothes and returned to find her crying -- I said, "sweetie, did you think I left you?" "Yeah," she sobbed, and she insisted on rocking in the rocking chair. Then she calmed down, we read a book, then had dinner. She ate A LOT -- chicken from my bowl of matzo ball soup (thanks, Drew, for the matzo balls!), some spaghetti, apple butternut squash and two cups of strawberries (she insisted I buy them at the grocery store on Saturday even though they're way out of season).
Again, a pretty normal night. Until we went into her bedroom for Mommy books and she said this as I was about to take her on my lap:
"I'm gonna take care of you when I get bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger."
I blinked away tears. "What made you say THAT, Rachel?" I asked.
"I don't know," she shrugged.
When I told this to Amy, one of my closest friends and best mom source, she said, "It's like she's 2 going on 22! She's such an old soul!"
When I picked Rachel up, she was reading a book in the babies' room. As soon as she saw me she jumped off the chair, carefully placed the book on the shelf and raced toward me yelling, "Mommy!!" I swept her up in my arms (she was already hugging my shoulders and putting her head on my neck) and said, "oh, I am SO glad to see you!!'
The rest of the night proceeded normally: She slept on the way home, and when we got into the garage she said she wanted to stay in her car seat for a while. I went inside, changed clothes and returned to find her crying -- I said, "sweetie, did you think I left you?" "Yeah," she sobbed, and she insisted on rocking in the rocking chair. Then she calmed down, we read a book, then had dinner. She ate A LOT -- chicken from my bowl of matzo ball soup (thanks, Drew, for the matzo balls!), some spaghetti, apple butternut squash and two cups of strawberries (she insisted I buy them at the grocery store on Saturday even though they're way out of season).
Again, a pretty normal night. Until we went into her bedroom for Mommy books and she said this as I was about to take her on my lap:
"I'm gonna take care of you when I get bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger."
I blinked away tears. "What made you say THAT, Rachel?" I asked.
"I don't know," she shrugged.
When I told this to Amy, one of my closest friends and best mom source, she said, "It's like she's 2 going on 22! She's such an old soul!"
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Rachel-ese this weekend
Today as I was fixing breakfast, I wore a nice pair of gray slacks and my cruddy mom clothes: A long-sleeve gray t-shirt that I practically live in during the week, and my fleece - the one that is not fit to be seen in public. The nice pair of gray slacks was the bottom half of the memorial service outfit I put together. (I later changed to a black turtleneck and sweater).
Rachel looked at my getup and said, perfectly sweetly, "You look VERY cute."
I felt like hugging her, but I had to flip the bacon. Sweet girl!
***
On Friday as we were driving home from work she asked, "who's Jojo?"
"He's Tia Daniella's husband," I answered. "And he's Valerie's daddy."
She paused for a minute.
"Is he a little guy?" she asked.
Daniella, want to tackle that one?
***
Rachel insisted on leafing through the NY Times magazine today and an ad with a crying baby in it caught her eye.
"That baby's very sad," she announced.
"Why?" I said.
"'Cuz it wants its mommy and daddy, maybe," she said.
***
Rachel accidentally tore the foam number 5 from one of the puzzles she loves playing with (reminder: Need to get her more puzzles ASAP; she is about the outgrow the ones she has). I offered to fix it with some tape.
"Thank you for fixing my 5," she said sweetly. "That was very nice!"
"Glad to do it, Rachel!" I replied.
She thanked me AGAIN at dinner tonight.
***
Tonight as she insisted I snuggle with her in the glider after lights were out and I had done singing her songs, she said, "let's sleep together!"
"OK," I replied.
"I love you," Rachel said.
"I love you, too!" I replied.
"I love you too!" she said.
"I love you very much," I said. "You're my favorite little girl."
Then Rachel said, in that bright voice of hers, "Let's wake up!"
I cracked up and put her in the crib.
Rachel looked at my getup and said, perfectly sweetly, "You look VERY cute."
I felt like hugging her, but I had to flip the bacon. Sweet girl!
***
On Friday as we were driving home from work she asked, "who's Jojo?"
"He's Tia Daniella's husband," I answered. "And he's Valerie's daddy."
She paused for a minute.
"Is he a little guy?" she asked.
Daniella, want to tackle that one?
***
Rachel insisted on leafing through the NY Times magazine today and an ad with a crying baby in it caught her eye.
"That baby's very sad," she announced.
"Why?" I said.
"'Cuz it wants its mommy and daddy, maybe," she said.
***
Rachel accidentally tore the foam number 5 from one of the puzzles she loves playing with (reminder: Need to get her more puzzles ASAP; she is about the outgrow the ones she has). I offered to fix it with some tape.
"Thank you for fixing my 5," she said sweetly. "That was very nice!"
"Glad to do it, Rachel!" I replied.
She thanked me AGAIN at dinner tonight.
***
Tonight as she insisted I snuggle with her in the glider after lights were out and I had done singing her songs, she said, "let's sleep together!"
"OK," I replied.
"I love you," Rachel said.
"I love you, too!" I replied.
"I love you too!" she said.
"I love you very much," I said. "You're my favorite little girl."
Then Rachel said, in that bright voice of hers, "Let's wake up!"
I cracked up and put her in the crib.
Sunday in Salem
I absolutely hate going to Salem when I don't have to -- like I did last November, when I went to a memorial service for a long-retired professor and took notes for a story for the magazine. That time I met Constance at a children's "discovery center" and she watched Rachel while I went to the service; then we all got sushi on the way home. I just remember thinking that I really disliked taking so much time out of my day to drive to a place that I see enough of during the week.
But today was different -- I had a memorial service to attend for a woman named Linda who worked practically next to me in the Dean's office. She was the Dean's executive secretary and I was struck by how elegant, confident and easy to talk to she was. Several times, after a particularly frustrating morning, I'd sink into a chair and unload, and she'd listen and offer good advice. I always left feeling that I was glad I'd stopped in.
She died of cancer last Sunday, a cancer she'd been fighting for two years, and so of course I'd go to the memorial service -- even if I had to hold Rachel on my lap the whole time and hush her if she got fussy. But a colleague of both of ours kindly arranged for babysitting at the law school during the service (which was in the campus chapel) and so I was able to experience it (and take notes for a just-under-the-wire magazine story I'll need to write Monday) in peace. There was a nice reception in the law school student lounge afterward, and while Rachel was happy to run up to me and give my legs a hug, she was just as content to stay with the other kids (mostly grandkids and relatives of Linda's) and eat goldfish crackers and play with Play-Doh and, of course, read books. Katie, the Willamette student watching the kids, said Rachel asked her to read FIVE books. Yah Rachel!
Right before the service we managed to squeeze in a half-hour at the same discovery center I had taken Rachel to in November. It has a play grocery store and you can imagine how Rachel loved it, since she loves going grocery shopping for real and loading the groceries on the conveyer belt. I was watching her load groceries for a second time when a woman I was sitting next to turned to me and said, "is that your daughter Rachel?" or some such, and I said yes, with some surprise, and the woman said, "she goes to the same daycare as my daughter, Annabel."
"In Portland?" I asked, startled and completely losing my bearings.
"No, at the Y," the woman said.
It turned out that her daughter, who just turned 2, is in toddlers with Rachel and, as the woman explained to me, talks about Rachel ALL THE TIME. "Rachel is a real leader," the mom said. I was stunned, but pleased. And I didn't have the heart to tell her that Rachel never mentions Annabel -- just the boys in her class: Silas, Alexander, Jaxon. The mom nodded sympathetically because apparently Annabel is the same way; probably because there are something like 10 boys and 3 girls in the class.
"That's why we were so happy when Annabel started talking about Rachel so much," the mom said.
I like the idea that other kids like my daughter. A bunch of them usually come up to us when I drop Rachel off and say, "Hi Rachel!" in bright friendly voices. Which leads Rachel to yelp and clutch my legs as if she doesn't want me to go. We go through this every morning, so it has stopped bothering me because I hear she recovers quickly after I'm gone.
But today was different -- I had a memorial service to attend for a woman named Linda who worked practically next to me in the Dean's office. She was the Dean's executive secretary and I was struck by how elegant, confident and easy to talk to she was. Several times, after a particularly frustrating morning, I'd sink into a chair and unload, and she'd listen and offer good advice. I always left feeling that I was glad I'd stopped in.
She died of cancer last Sunday, a cancer she'd been fighting for two years, and so of course I'd go to the memorial service -- even if I had to hold Rachel on my lap the whole time and hush her if she got fussy. But a colleague of both of ours kindly arranged for babysitting at the law school during the service (which was in the campus chapel) and so I was able to experience it (and take notes for a just-under-the-wire magazine story I'll need to write Monday) in peace. There was a nice reception in the law school student lounge afterward, and while Rachel was happy to run up to me and give my legs a hug, she was just as content to stay with the other kids (mostly grandkids and relatives of Linda's) and eat goldfish crackers and play with Play-Doh and, of course, read books. Katie, the Willamette student watching the kids, said Rachel asked her to read FIVE books. Yah Rachel!
Right before the service we managed to squeeze in a half-hour at the same discovery center I had taken Rachel to in November. It has a play grocery store and you can imagine how Rachel loved it, since she loves going grocery shopping for real and loading the groceries on the conveyer belt. I was watching her load groceries for a second time when a woman I was sitting next to turned to me and said, "is that your daughter Rachel?" or some such, and I said yes, with some surprise, and the woman said, "she goes to the same daycare as my daughter, Annabel."
"In Portland?" I asked, startled and completely losing my bearings.
"No, at the Y," the woman said.
It turned out that her daughter, who just turned 2, is in toddlers with Rachel and, as the woman explained to me, talks about Rachel ALL THE TIME. "Rachel is a real leader," the mom said. I was stunned, but pleased. And I didn't have the heart to tell her that Rachel never mentions Annabel -- just the boys in her class: Silas, Alexander, Jaxon. The mom nodded sympathetically because apparently Annabel is the same way; probably because there are something like 10 boys and 3 girls in the class.
"That's why we were so happy when Annabel started talking about Rachel so much," the mom said.
I like the idea that other kids like my daughter. A bunch of them usually come up to us when I drop Rachel off and say, "Hi Rachel!" in bright friendly voices. Which leads Rachel to yelp and clutch my legs as if she doesn't want me to go. We go through this every morning, so it has stopped bothering me because I hear she recovers quickly after I'm gone.
Saturday with Catherine, Chuck and Josie
Catherine and Chuck went to NU with Drew and me; Josie is their adopted 4-year-old daughter with a penchant for tutus and fairy wings (two items Rachel has exhibited zero interest in). The live in Vancouver, BC but have a house in Portland and occasionally come down to visit. This weekend we set up a playdate for Saturday. I asked Rachel if she preferred a playdate during the day or if she wanted to get together with them for dinner.
"Playdate!" she replied.
"Do you prefer to have dinner with Mommy alone?" I said.
"Yes!" she answered.
So, Cat and Chuck and Josie came over with bagels and cream cheese and -- what a nice surprise -- two pieces of rugalach. I grabbed one and offered part of it to Rachel; she declined. But she actually ate 1/4 of a sesame bagel so I couldn't really complain. She insisted on sitting in her high chair, which was fine because that meant I didn't have to haul extra chairs to the dining room -- the kitchen was too crowded for all of us. It's a reminder that until Rachel is 3, we won't be taking down the high chair anytime soon.
Josie is usually shy, but this time she talked and talked and talked! She played with Rachel so nicely in the living room, and it was a real treat to be able to sit with Cat and Chuck and have a semblance of a conversation for, oh, 20 minutes at a stretch. They kept running over to Chuck with parts of the medical equipment box that Doug and Linda gave to Rachel for her 2nd birthday, and Chuck, who is a doctor, would correctly name the things that I usually refer to as "that thing that the doctor put in your ear to look when you had an ear infection -- remember, Rachel?"
Toward of the end of our visit, Josie tried to put the fairy wings on Rachel but she wasn't interested. Then they linked arms and sang an alternate version of "Row, row, row your boat," that Cat taught them which called for both girls to tumble into the "water." They fell down from their sitting positions to the floor, arms locked around each other, shrieking with laughter. I did get a few pictures which I will send along soon.
Then Rachel and I did our usual round of Saturday errands -- dry cleaners, bank, grocery store, home, snack, nap, dinner. As I put her down to bed, Rachel said, "That Josie -- she's my favorite!"
"I thought Lila was your favorite," I teased.
"Lila's my favorite and Josie's my favorite...I have lots of favorites," she concluded.
I smiled. She is the most loving little girl I know.
"Playdate!" she replied.
"Do you prefer to have dinner with Mommy alone?" I said.
"Yes!" she answered.
So, Cat and Chuck and Josie came over with bagels and cream cheese and -- what a nice surprise -- two pieces of rugalach. I grabbed one and offered part of it to Rachel; she declined. But she actually ate 1/4 of a sesame bagel so I couldn't really complain. She insisted on sitting in her high chair, which was fine because that meant I didn't have to haul extra chairs to the dining room -- the kitchen was too crowded for all of us. It's a reminder that until Rachel is 3, we won't be taking down the high chair anytime soon.
Josie is usually shy, but this time she talked and talked and talked! She played with Rachel so nicely in the living room, and it was a real treat to be able to sit with Cat and Chuck and have a semblance of a conversation for, oh, 20 minutes at a stretch. They kept running over to Chuck with parts of the medical equipment box that Doug and Linda gave to Rachel for her 2nd birthday, and Chuck, who is a doctor, would correctly name the things that I usually refer to as "that thing that the doctor put in your ear to look when you had an ear infection -- remember, Rachel?"
Toward of the end of our visit, Josie tried to put the fairy wings on Rachel but she wasn't interested. Then they linked arms and sang an alternate version of "Row, row, row your boat," that Cat taught them which called for both girls to tumble into the "water." They fell down from their sitting positions to the floor, arms locked around each other, shrieking with laughter. I did get a few pictures which I will send along soon.
Then Rachel and I did our usual round of Saturday errands -- dry cleaners, bank, grocery store, home, snack, nap, dinner. As I put her down to bed, Rachel said, "That Josie -- she's my favorite!"
"I thought Lila was your favorite," I teased.
"Lila's my favorite and Josie's my favorite...I have lots of favorites," she concluded.
I smiled. She is the most loving little girl I know.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Rachel wakes up this morning
just before I walked in, I heard what sounded like murmuring.
"Were you talking to yourself?" I asked as I pulled up the blankets.
"No, I was singing 'Sunrise, Sunset,' she said, sleepily.
Then I noticed that "Go Dog Go" was opened to the first two pages.
"Were you reading, sweetie?" I asked, astonished.
"Yeah," she replied.
I really think we need to embark on a Teaching Rachel To Read Program, because I believe she's ready. Wouldn't it be interesting if she could read books by age 4?
Also, I enrolled her in swim classes at the local community center. She starts next Saturday.
"Were you talking to yourself?" I asked as I pulled up the blankets.
"No, I was singing 'Sunrise, Sunset,' she said, sleepily.
Then I noticed that "Go Dog Go" was opened to the first two pages.
"Were you reading, sweetie?" I asked, astonished.
"Yeah," she replied.
I really think we need to embark on a Teaching Rachel To Read Program, because I believe she's ready. Wouldn't it be interesting if she could read books by age 4?
Also, I enrolled her in swim classes at the local community center. She starts next Saturday.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Rachel meets Mommy's old boyfriend
A college flame of mine, Mike, was visiting Portland this weekend and we went to dinner tonight at Lucca, an Italian restaurant near our house. (Yes, Drew knows about this and doesn't mind). We had a good time catching up on people we knew, while Rachel was a perfect dinner companion in an outfit that makes her look like Thing #1 from Dr. Seuss. She sat in her high chair and was quiet the whole time.
Kidding! Of course not. You think she wants to compete with ANYONE for Mommy's attention? No sir. So I spent the evening spitting out bits of conversation with Mike then turning to my left and drawing whatever Rachel requested: A picture of Rachel, a house, an apple. I drew the line at the dog. I have NO drawing talent, and I think from now on I'll just tell her, "get Tia Daniella to do it."
I had told Rachel we were meeting Mike for dinner. Her questions:
"Mike or Michael?"
"Mike, Rachel," I answered.
"Does he have a toddler or a baby?" she asked.
"No kids," I answered.
And after tonight I thought, what a shame, because he's missing so much.
***
Yesterday on the way home from work, Rachel informed me that someone had spilled milk on her pants.
"Was it one of the kids in Beginners?" I asked (she is spending more time there these days).
"Yes," she said.
"Which one?" I asked.
"Alexander," she answered.
"Did you cry?" I said.
"Nooo," she answered.
"Did you get mad?" I asked.
"No," she replied. "I got very frustrated."
I suppressed a laugh.
***
Today at daycare, Teacher Jennifer reported the following:
Rachel said she missed her Daddy, that he was in New York.
"What does he do in New York?" Jennifer asked.
"He works," Rachel said.
"What does he work with?" Jennifer said.
Rachel thought for a minute.
"Pencils. Pens. Paper. Markers," she replied.
Which, when you think about it, is a pretty fair summation of Drew's fellowship.
Kidding! Of course not. You think she wants to compete with ANYONE for Mommy's attention? No sir. So I spent the evening spitting out bits of conversation with Mike then turning to my left and drawing whatever Rachel requested: A picture of Rachel, a house, an apple. I drew the line at the dog. I have NO drawing talent, and I think from now on I'll just tell her, "get Tia Daniella to do it."
I had told Rachel we were meeting Mike for dinner. Her questions:
"Mike or Michael?"
"Mike, Rachel," I answered.
"Does he have a toddler or a baby?" she asked.
"No kids," I answered.
And after tonight I thought, what a shame, because he's missing so much.
***
Yesterday on the way home from work, Rachel informed me that someone had spilled milk on her pants.
"Was it one of the kids in Beginners?" I asked (she is spending more time there these days).
"Yes," she said.
"Which one?" I asked.
"Alexander," she answered.
"Did you cry?" I said.
"Nooo," she answered.
"Did you get mad?" I asked.
"No," she replied. "I got very frustrated."
I suppressed a laugh.
***
Today at daycare, Teacher Jennifer reported the following:
Rachel said she missed her Daddy, that he was in New York.
"What does he do in New York?" Jennifer asked.
"He works," Rachel said.
"What does he work with?" Jennifer said.
Rachel thought for a minute.
"Pencils. Pens. Paper. Markers," she replied.
Which, when you think about it, is a pretty fair summation of Drew's fellowship.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Rachel's obsession with ducklings
We have been reading the classic children's book "Make Way for Ducklings." Rachel can't get enough of it. It's quite long, longer than most kids' books, but she's rapt with every word.
Tonight at dinner she started singing "Five Little Ducks Went Out One Day," and she asked if the Mommy duck was sad.
"Yes," I answered, "because all her little ducks went away. Just like I'd be sad if you went away."
"I'm not going away!" Rachel exclaimed. "'Cuz I wanna stay here with my mommy 'cuz I miss her!"
Later she sounded as if she was trying to make up her own version:
"Five little ducks came home one day..." she began, and then she added: "and ate dinner with the other little ducklings and then go to bed and then read Mommy books then turn on the CD and then get into their jammies and then go to sleep and then Mommy cleans up their dinner."
Yep, that's a pretty fair summation of what goes on around here at night. Minus the ducklings, of course.
Tonight at dinner she started singing "Five Little Ducks Went Out One Day," and she asked if the Mommy duck was sad.
"Yes," I answered, "because all her little ducks went away. Just like I'd be sad if you went away."
"I'm not going away!" Rachel exclaimed. "'Cuz I wanna stay here with my mommy 'cuz I miss her!"
Later she sounded as if she was trying to make up her own version:
"Five little ducks came home one day..." she began, and then she added: "and ate dinner with the other little ducklings and then go to bed and then read Mommy books then turn on the CD and then get into their jammies and then go to sleep and then Mommy cleans up their dinner."
Yep, that's a pretty fair summation of what goes on around here at night. Minus the ducklings, of course.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Morning drive
Conversation in the car on the way to daycare:
Rachel: Mommy, why do you like tea?
Me: I like the taste. I don't like coffee, and the caffeine keeps me awake.
Rachel: You like camomile tea?
Me: Like Madeline? No, not really.
Rachel: I like my drinks. They keep me safe and warm.
***
Did I mention that we all got haircuts when Drew was home? Apparently that's part of our routine -- Drew comes home, all of us, including Rachel, get our hair cut. Twice now Rachel has looked at my cut (which was not the greatest because my stylist is young, not very talented and never cuts my hair the way I want it to look, but it eventually grows back and she's not expensive, so I put up with it) and she said:
"I like your pretty haircut."
***
Rachel asked for help today to clean up the cereal and juice mess in her lap. Her car seat breakfasts are pretty chaotic.
"It just so happens that I have a napkin!" I said, taking one from my pocket and handing it to her.
"Yay, Mommy!" Rachel cheered, clapping her hands. "You had a napkin!!"
I laughed.
Rachel: Mommy, why do you like tea?
Me: I like the taste. I don't like coffee, and the caffeine keeps me awake.
Rachel: You like camomile tea?
Me: Like Madeline? No, not really.
Rachel: I like my drinks. They keep me safe and warm.
***
Did I mention that we all got haircuts when Drew was home? Apparently that's part of our routine -- Drew comes home, all of us, including Rachel, get our hair cut. Twice now Rachel has looked at my cut (which was not the greatest because my stylist is young, not very talented and never cuts my hair the way I want it to look, but it eventually grows back and she's not expensive, so I put up with it) and she said:
"I like your pretty haircut."
***
Rachel asked for help today to clean up the cereal and juice mess in her lap. Her car seat breakfasts are pretty chaotic.
"It just so happens that I have a napkin!" I said, taking one from my pocket and handing it to her.
"Yay, Mommy!" Rachel cheered, clapping her hands. "You had a napkin!!"
I laughed.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Beginner Room!
Teacher Jennifer told me that as of April 1st, Rachel will be moving to the Beginner Room. I wrote a post on this recently -- it's where the kids do basically the same things but they learn about weather and more advanced concepts. It will be none too soon, Jennifer says, because Rachel has begun screaming a lot instead of talking. Jennifer says this is common among kids who are ready to go to Beginners -- they're bored and so they "act out." Rachel inadvertently told me that tonight when all of a sudden she said, "She didn't answer."
"Who didn't answer, sweetie?" I asked.
"Katie," she answered (I think; I don't remember the name).
"What did you ask her?" I said.
I can't remember what Rachel answered, but then I asked, "So what did you do?"
"I screamed," she said, very matter-of-factly.
So, yes, I think Beginners would be a good idea.
Which reminds me that I've decided I really need to teach Rachel how to read -- I can tell she is dying to learn and while this daycare is adequate, they're not pushing her academically. At the risk of being a Tiger Mom, when she exhibits an interest in things I want to be able to provide her with activities that will foster that interest. She knows all her letters, she knows that R is the beginning of Rachel and G is the beginning of Grandpa and Grandma, etc...why not just teach her the rest?
I'll be researching that this week at night and hopefully will come up with some sort of a plan by the weekend.
"Who didn't answer, sweetie?" I asked.
"Katie," she answered (I think; I don't remember the name).
"What did you ask her?" I said.
I can't remember what Rachel answered, but then I asked, "So what did you do?"
"I screamed," she said, very matter-of-factly.
So, yes, I think Beginners would be a good idea.
Which reminds me that I've decided I really need to teach Rachel how to read -- I can tell she is dying to learn and while this daycare is adequate, they're not pushing her academically. At the risk of being a Tiger Mom, when she exhibits an interest in things I want to be able to provide her with activities that will foster that interest. She knows all her letters, she knows that R is the beginning of Rachel and G is the beginning of Grandpa and Grandma, etc...why not just teach her the rest?
I'll be researching that this week at night and hopefully will come up with some sort of a plan by the weekend.
Day without Daddy
It didn't get off to a very promising start. I was awakened like a shot at 5:30 a.m. by Rachel's sobbing. "I want Daddy!" I heard her say through her crying, and I held my breath, hoping it was a bad dream. I didn't go in right away, and eventually she calmed down.
When I woke her up at 8:15 (I let myself and Rachel sleep in because it's Spring Break and I figured nothing much would be going on at work. Oh, how wrong I was -- I was hopping the whole day!) she didn't want to get up until I used the word "snuggle with Mommy." Then she held her arms out, and when I lifted her up she grabbed me. And I do mean grabbed -- more like clung -- for a while until she decided it was safe, I wasn't going to leave her, too, and then picked out "Make Way for Ducklings" for me to read. It's a long book but she stayed alert for all of it! I was very impressed.
When we put her socks on, I groaned, as I usually do (joking around, of course), to PLEASE not do a headstand in Mommy's lap.
"I didn't," she said. "I just imagined it."
WHOA!!
In the car on the way to work, we sang "Five Little Ducks." Then:
"I won't go away, Mommy," Rachel said. "That would make me very sad."
"Promise, Rachel?" I pleaded.
"No," she answered. (I think she meant, no, she wouldn't go away!)
Tonight when we got home and I went into the bedroom to take my work clothes off I heard her holler from the kitchen, "I set the table!" AND SHE DID! Placemats, forks and spoons. I thanked her profusely, of course.
When she finished before I did, she slid off her seat, trotted into the living room and came back with her letter and number puzzles, the ones that have her fitting felt letters and numbers into puzzle shapes. "What's this, Mommy?" she asked, holding up a plus sign. I explained it to her, and she put every piece into its correct place. I was, again, very impressed.
The last thing she brough in from the living room was some play wooden fruit that I bought her a few months ago. She sliced up an orange for me and a lemon for Drew. "I save the pieces for Daddy because he's not here," she said, so matter-of-factly that I almost winced.
Then I heated up some chicken for her and beef stew for me.
"Can I clean up?" she asked when we were done, and I was so startled I replied, "um, sure, honey," and immediately got up to clear the dishes. So did she, until we were all done and it was time for Mommy Books. Again she clutched me tight when it was time to snuggle (did I mention that she actually ASKED to take a bath?) and I did some extra cuddling and tickling just in case she felt lonely. Because I do, a little bit.
When I woke her up at 8:15 (I let myself and Rachel sleep in because it's Spring Break and I figured nothing much would be going on at work. Oh, how wrong I was -- I was hopping the whole day!) she didn't want to get up until I used the word "snuggle with Mommy." Then she held her arms out, and when I lifted her up she grabbed me. And I do mean grabbed -- more like clung -- for a while until she decided it was safe, I wasn't going to leave her, too, and then picked out "Make Way for Ducklings" for me to read. It's a long book but she stayed alert for all of it! I was very impressed.
When we put her socks on, I groaned, as I usually do (joking around, of course), to PLEASE not do a headstand in Mommy's lap.
"I didn't," she said. "I just imagined it."
WHOA!!
In the car on the way to work, we sang "Five Little Ducks." Then:
"I won't go away, Mommy," Rachel said. "That would make me very sad."
"Promise, Rachel?" I pleaded.
"No," she answered. (I think she meant, no, she wouldn't go away!)
Tonight when we got home and I went into the bedroom to take my work clothes off I heard her holler from the kitchen, "I set the table!" AND SHE DID! Placemats, forks and spoons. I thanked her profusely, of course.
When she finished before I did, she slid off her seat, trotted into the living room and came back with her letter and number puzzles, the ones that have her fitting felt letters and numbers into puzzle shapes. "What's this, Mommy?" she asked, holding up a plus sign. I explained it to her, and she put every piece into its correct place. I was, again, very impressed.
The last thing she brough in from the living room was some play wooden fruit that I bought her a few months ago. She sliced up an orange for me and a lemon for Drew. "I save the pieces for Daddy because he's not here," she said, so matter-of-factly that I almost winced.
Then I heated up some chicken for her and beef stew for me.
"Can I clean up?" she asked when we were done, and I was so startled I replied, "um, sure, honey," and immediately got up to clear the dishes. So did she, until we were all done and it was time for Mommy Books. Again she clutched me tight when it was time to snuggle (did I mention that she actually ASKED to take a bath?) and I did some extra cuddling and tickling just in case she felt lonely. Because I do, a little bit.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Conversation between Rachel and me tonight
...after we dropped Drew off at the airport and waited for his plane with him. Rachel cried hard when the time came to say goodbye but quickly recovered when I let her insert the parking space ticket into the ticket machine.
After we got home and she had pears & mangoes, a bowl of cheddar bunnies and half of a chocolate granola bar (she didn't eat anything at dinner and insisted on snuggling with Drew because she knew Daddy was about to leave), we brushed teeth, washed hands, changed into jammies, read ONE book and then when I offered to sing a song Rachel said, "I wanna snuggle."
Then, this:
Rachel: I love you.
Me: I love you too, sweetie! I love you very much. (I was touched, I hadn't heard this the whole week Drew was home).
Rachel: I love you very much. I love Daddy, too.
Me: And Daddy loves you, too.
Rachel: Daddy's my FAVORITE. You're my favorite too.
Me: And you're OUR favorite!
After we got home and she had pears & mangoes, a bowl of cheddar bunnies and half of a chocolate granola bar (she didn't eat anything at dinner and insisted on snuggling with Drew because she knew Daddy was about to leave), we brushed teeth, washed hands, changed into jammies, read ONE book and then when I offered to sing a song Rachel said, "I wanna snuggle."
Then, this:
Rachel: I love you.
Me: I love you too, sweetie! I love you very much. (I was touched, I hadn't heard this the whole week Drew was home).
Rachel: I love you very much. I love Daddy, too.
Me: And Daddy loves you, too.
Rachel: Daddy's my FAVORITE. You're my favorite too.
Me: And you're OUR favorite!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Rachel, Daddy and Mommy spend a week together!
It has been a busy week. I've been working, Drew has been crossing chores off the list I gave him when he arrived last Friday, and he has graciously baby-sat Rachel at night while I visited my former chorus on Wednesday and went out afterward until, gulp, midnight, and then the next night, St. Patrick's, when I FINALLY saw "Black Swan" with my friends Julie and Jeannette. Weird movie. Can't hold a candle to "The Red Shoes" and "All About Eve," two classics that "Back Swan" drew from.
Some Rachel/Daddy exchanges this week:
Drew: You're my favorite little girl!
Rachel: You're my favorite little daddy!
***
(This one is Rachel and Mommy):
Rachel (half-folding her sunglasses and handing them to me): Look, Mommy! A K! (it's true, if you look at half-folded-up sunglasses, they look like the letter 'K"!)
***
Rachel and Drew were playing with some letter puzzles that Constance gave Rachel months ago. Somehow the "J" disappeared. Drew said Rachel went to the front door and insisted he open it because, "maybe the J went outside!"
Rachel: J! J! Where are you, J? Come back, J!
(I found it this morning while Drew took Rachel to get her hair cut. It was on the seat of one of the dining room chairs).
Tomorrow night at 7 we will take Drew to the airport to catch his overnight flight back to NYC. Before then I'm going to get a massage with a gift card that Tia Daniella graciously bought me last year. I've gotten a haircut, too, and tonight Drew promised to mop the floor so I don't have to do it until next week. We've also rented a movie. I am very grateful for the quiet weekend together. I'll be sad to see Drew leave but we'll see him soon, the weekend/week of Passover, and then it will be five weekends until he is home for GOOD in mid-May. The end is coming. I can almost taste it.
Some Rachel/Daddy exchanges this week:
Drew: You're my favorite little girl!
Rachel: You're my favorite little daddy!
***
(This one is Rachel and Mommy):
Rachel (half-folding her sunglasses and handing them to me): Look, Mommy! A K! (it's true, if you look at half-folded-up sunglasses, they look like the letter 'K"!)
***
Rachel and Drew were playing with some letter puzzles that Constance gave Rachel months ago. Somehow the "J" disappeared. Drew said Rachel went to the front door and insisted he open it because, "maybe the J went outside!"
Rachel: J! J! Where are you, J? Come back, J!
(I found it this morning while Drew took Rachel to get her hair cut. It was on the seat of one of the dining room chairs).
Tomorrow night at 7 we will take Drew to the airport to catch his overnight flight back to NYC. Before then I'm going to get a massage with a gift card that Tia Daniella graciously bought me last year. I've gotten a haircut, too, and tonight Drew promised to mop the floor so I don't have to do it until next week. We've also rented a movie. I am very grateful for the quiet weekend together. I'll be sad to see Drew leave but we'll see him soon, the weekend/week of Passover, and then it will be five weekends until he is home for GOOD in mid-May. The end is coming. I can almost taste it.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Rachel is a prolific talker, even when she's the only one talking
An entirely self-generated conversation from this morning, as Drew was making bacon and I was reading the Sunday NY Times (paranthetically -- I was able to read more of the Times than I am EVER able to do when he's not here, plus I just took a long, leisurely shower):
Rachel: Where's Rachel? Is she at the grocery store?
No.
Is she at Molly's?
No.
Is she smelling flowers?
No.
Is she at the grocery store?
No.
Is she eating cereal?
No, she's done with her cereal.
Where is she? I don't see her.
Rachel: Where's Rachel? Is she at the grocery store?
No.
Is she at Molly's?
No.
Is she smelling flowers?
No.
Is she at the grocery store?
No.
Is she eating cereal?
No, she's done with her cereal.
Where is she? I don't see her.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
The world according to Rachel, Part 384
Tonight after Drew and I got home from dinner and a concert (St. John Passion by the Portland Baroque Orchestra --fabulous), here is the conversation our babysitter Angela recounted:
Angela (for about the fifth time): Mommy and Daddy are at a concert.
Rachel: Next time I'll go to the concert. And you'll come, too.
Angela: Yep, one day when you are bigger we will all go to a concert together.
Rachel: And there will be toys.
Angela (for about the fifth time): Mommy and Daddy are at a concert.
Rachel: Next time I'll go to the concert. And you'll come, too.
Angela: Yep, one day when you are bigger we will all go to a concert together.
Rachel: And there will be toys.
Daddy's home for Spring Break!
Drew arrived home last night at around midnight. Rachel was extremely happy to see him this morning. And he was very impressed at how grown up she is becoming.
She cleared her breakfast dishes without being asked this morning. That is the third day in a row she has done that. Last night she said she had to go to the potty and I told her to just go on her own. I resumed eating my soup in peace. After about ten minutes I went in to check on her and she was sitting there with a book! When I told her we needed to take a bath she said witb concern, "I need to clear!" Whereupon she marched into the kitchen and cleared all her disbes and then started clearing mine! I was so proud.
Cute Rachelisms recently:
On the way home from preschool last night:
Rachel: When I get big and you get little, you sit in your own car seat and I sit in the front and drive to work.
We were caught in a massive traffic jam last night and Rachel started scolding the cars again:
Hurry peole cuz we gotta get home. People, you're not listening, people! Listen listen listen to Mommy and Daddy anD Rachel and Piggy and Lila and PopPop!
I gave her a rundown of how we would spend today: A leisurely breakfast, go to the playplace, maybe grocery shopping, then home for snack and nap. And then Angela would come over and play with her.
This kid doesn't miss a beat.
"Where you guys going?" she asked.
"Um, we're going out to dinner," I said, startled.
"Come back!" sbe beseeched.
"Of course we will, sweetie!" I replied.
She cleared her breakfast dishes without being asked this morning. That is the third day in a row she has done that. Last night she said she had to go to the potty and I told her to just go on her own. I resumed eating my soup in peace. After about ten minutes I went in to check on her and she was sitting there with a book! When I told her we needed to take a bath she said witb concern, "I need to clear!" Whereupon she marched into the kitchen and cleared all her disbes and then started clearing mine! I was so proud.
Cute Rachelisms recently:
On the way home from preschool last night:
Rachel: When I get big and you get little, you sit in your own car seat and I sit in the front and drive to work.
We were caught in a massive traffic jam last night and Rachel started scolding the cars again:
Hurry peole cuz we gotta get home. People, you're not listening, people! Listen listen listen to Mommy and Daddy anD Rachel and Piggy and Lila and PopPop!
I gave her a rundown of how we would spend today: A leisurely breakfast, go to the playplace, maybe grocery shopping, then home for snack and nap. And then Angela would come over and play with her.
This kid doesn't miss a beat.
"Where you guys going?" she asked.
"Um, we're going out to dinner," I said, startled.
"Come back!" sbe beseeched.
"Of course we will, sweetie!" I replied.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Rachel scolds the traffic jam
On the way home from daycare, on a rainy, windy night, we ran into a horrendous traffic jam on the Terwilliger Curves, a particularly heinous stretch of road just outside the center of downtown. I was not pleased. Neither was Rachel.
"I don't LIKE traffic jams," she said emphatically. "I want to throw the cars away."
Good idea, Rachel, I said silently (I was talking to Drew by phone at the time).
"I want to throw away the cars and the trucks," she added. "Well, not all of the trucks. Leave the big trucks."
***
Our trip TO work and school was much better -- clear, dry roads. I was singing for about 20 minutes when Rachel called a halt to the music.
"Stop singing, Mommy," she said encouragingly. "Rest your voice!"
***
Tonight as I was putting her to bed I said, "I love you, Rachel! I love you very much."
"I love you very much too," she replied, snuggling in.
"I don't LIKE traffic jams," she said emphatically. "I want to throw the cars away."
Good idea, Rachel, I said silently (I was talking to Drew by phone at the time).
"I want to throw away the cars and the trucks," she added. "Well, not all of the trucks. Leave the big trucks."
***
Our trip TO work and school was much better -- clear, dry roads. I was singing for about 20 minutes when Rachel called a halt to the music.
"Stop singing, Mommy," she said encouragingly. "Rest your voice!"
***
Tonight as I was putting her to bed I said, "I love you, Rachel! I love you very much."
"I love you very much too," she replied, snuggling in.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Daddy's visit
"Daddy's coming home this week!" I said to Rachel on the drive home tonight. "What do you want to do when he's home?"
"Play," she answered.
"Play what?"
"Puzzles."
"Do you want to go to the playplace with Daddy?" I asked. (It's that great indoor playground I wrote about weeks ago called Playdate PDX, where I went with my friend Sarah and her son Noah. Can't wait for Drew to check it out).
"Can you come?" she said plaintively.
"Of course I can come, sweetie!" I laughed.
"I don't want you to wait at home," she answered. "I need you!"
Oh, the sweetness of being needed, really needed. I'll hold tight to that memory when she starts to break away from home.
"Play," she answered.
"Play what?"
"Puzzles."
"Do you want to go to the playplace with Daddy?" I asked. (It's that great indoor playground I wrote about weeks ago called Playdate PDX, where I went with my friend Sarah and her son Noah. Can't wait for Drew to check it out).
"Can you come?" she said plaintively.
"Of course I can come, sweetie!" I laughed.
"I don't want you to wait at home," she answered. "I need you!"
Oh, the sweetness of being needed, really needed. I'll hold tight to that memory when she starts to break away from home.
What happened to my sweet, obedient little girl??
The Terrible Twos. Or Threes, I guess. That's what.
For the past two or three nights, Rachel has balked when I've asked her to clear the table. "I don't WANT TO!" she whines. She says that once or twice until I get my angry Mommy voice on and physically put dishes in her hands and order her to take them to the counter. She bursts into tears but usually does it.
Tonight I asked her to set the table and she said no.
"I do not want to," she said. (The "I do not want to," is probably from "Go Dog, Go," in which one dog asks another if he likes her hat, and he says, 'No. I do not like it.'" It's odd to hear Rachel say it; it makes her sound like a stuck-up little preppie).
"Rachel, set the table," I ordered.
"NO."
"Don't make me ask you again, Rachel," I said.
"I don't want to."
"SET THE TABLE," I said sternly.
Whereupon the normal tears were accompanied by screams. I was tired, I was hungry and I told her not to scream again or I'd give her a timeout. Usually that threat works. Tonight it didn't.
She continued to cry and let out a scream. And I snapped.
"OK Rachel," I said, sweeping her up in my arms. "You get a timeout."
"NoNoNo!" she sobbed as I carried her into her room.
The crying and screaming continued while I fixed myself some Moroccan stew and salad. (Rachel had insisted she wasn't hungry for dinner, probably because she had some orange and pretzels on the drive home).
Then, when I heard a pause, I opened the door to her room.
"Are you going to keep crying?" I asked.
"No," she whimpered.
"OK, sweetie, then let's go in to dinner," I said. When she said she wasn't hungry, I said, "Sweetie, do you want to draw while Mommy eats?" She asked me to draw her a balloon, a sun and a moon and when she saw me take a bite of the stew she announced she was hungry. Then she ate one jar of pears and mangoes, made me draw a picutre of her and another picture of me, and then announced she wanted to do Mommy Books.
"OK," I said. "Please clear your dishes."
She fussed the tiniest bit but then cleared everything -- even plates and bowls with food still inside -- and I praised her lavishly. Then I lifted her up, to much smiling and laughing, and we went into her bedroom to finish out the night.
For the past two or three nights, Rachel has balked when I've asked her to clear the table. "I don't WANT TO!" she whines. She says that once or twice until I get my angry Mommy voice on and physically put dishes in her hands and order her to take them to the counter. She bursts into tears but usually does it.
Tonight I asked her to set the table and she said no.
"I do not want to," she said. (The "I do not want to," is probably from "Go Dog, Go," in which one dog asks another if he likes her hat, and he says, 'No. I do not like it.'" It's odd to hear Rachel say it; it makes her sound like a stuck-up little preppie).
"Rachel, set the table," I ordered.
"NO."
"Don't make me ask you again, Rachel," I said.
"I don't want to."
"SET THE TABLE," I said sternly.
Whereupon the normal tears were accompanied by screams. I was tired, I was hungry and I told her not to scream again or I'd give her a timeout. Usually that threat works. Tonight it didn't.
She continued to cry and let out a scream. And I snapped.
"OK Rachel," I said, sweeping her up in my arms. "You get a timeout."
"NoNoNo!" she sobbed as I carried her into her room.
The crying and screaming continued while I fixed myself some Moroccan stew and salad. (Rachel had insisted she wasn't hungry for dinner, probably because she had some orange and pretzels on the drive home).
Then, when I heard a pause, I opened the door to her room.
"Are you going to keep crying?" I asked.
"No," she whimpered.
"OK, sweetie, then let's go in to dinner," I said. When she said she wasn't hungry, I said, "Sweetie, do you want to draw while Mommy eats?" She asked me to draw her a balloon, a sun and a moon and when she saw me take a bite of the stew she announced she was hungry. Then she ate one jar of pears and mangoes, made me draw a picutre of her and another picture of me, and then announced she wanted to do Mommy Books.
"OK," I said. "Please clear your dishes."
She fussed the tiniest bit but then cleared everything -- even plates and bowls with food still inside -- and I praised her lavishly. Then I lifted her up, to much smiling and laughing, and we went into her bedroom to finish out the night.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Hectic weekend
I don't think I'll ever overschedule myself the way I did this weekend. It's Monday and I'm totally exhausted, and there is absolutely no reason for it except my manic fear of being alone with a toddler for 48 hours.
On Saturday morning we had a playdate with my friend from the Oregonian, Nikole, and her alomst one-year-old baby Nadjya. Luckily Nikole insisted on going for a walk, which I'm glad we did because it was a lovely day. The girls had fun at the park; Nadjya slept most of the time and Rachel went down the "big slide" all by herself -- and then told Mommy to go down after her as opposed to holding her on my lap. She is getting more and more independent!
Then Nikole went home and we did our usual round of grocery shopping, dry cleaning pickup, the bank, home for snack and nap and then I went to work preparing Moroccan stew with couscous and a chocolate-almond tart that I thought turned out really badly but my guests, Miriam and Deni, really loved. They are friends from chorus in their 50s and 60s; Deni recently got back from accompanying her husband on a project in Mali and had lots of adventures to share. Rachel, as Deni says, "is a kick in the pants" and she was in fine form, begging for cheddar bunnies and chocolate goldfish crackers and refusing to try the stew or the couscous. Deni later reassured me that she will, in fact, eat like a normal kid one day. Deni's greatest regret is taking such a hard line with her kids about food -- no sugar, only whole grains, no juice, etc. -- and now her grandsons eat a lot of junk because Deni's daughter veered the opposite direction from her mother. Bottom line is that I will ask Rachel's pediatrician in July whether Rachel should be eating a bigger variety of foods and how to get her to eat more of the stuff I like to make.
On Sunday we mellowed out after I made a few frantic calls about the water stains and ceiling crackling above the fireplace; it totally ruined my evening on Saturday. Then we went to the mall and swung by the park for a while. Rachel walked across a "bridge" on the play structure that was made of rubber; it is wobbly and I was so proud of her gingerly walking it all by herself. We went on the "teeter-totter" (seesaw) for a while until it got cold, then we went home for snack and nap. I fell asleep rocking her in the chair and had just enough time to make beef stroganoff for our friend Anne who came to dinner at 6:30. Anne brought Rachel some cool sunglasses with bows that are a bit too big, but she'll grow into them. She also amused Rachel by showing her some videos of her cats and dog on her Smartphone.
Then I put Rachel to bed after Anne left, cleaned up the kitchen, ran the dishwasher and stumbled, bleary-eyed, into bed at midnight. Not a great way to start the workweek. Which is why I'm turning in early tonight. Have a good one, folks.
On Saturday morning we had a playdate with my friend from the Oregonian, Nikole, and her alomst one-year-old baby Nadjya. Luckily Nikole insisted on going for a walk, which I'm glad we did because it was a lovely day. The girls had fun at the park; Nadjya slept most of the time and Rachel went down the "big slide" all by herself -- and then told Mommy to go down after her as opposed to holding her on my lap. She is getting more and more independent!
Then Nikole went home and we did our usual round of grocery shopping, dry cleaning pickup, the bank, home for snack and nap and then I went to work preparing Moroccan stew with couscous and a chocolate-almond tart that I thought turned out really badly but my guests, Miriam and Deni, really loved. They are friends from chorus in their 50s and 60s; Deni recently got back from accompanying her husband on a project in Mali and had lots of adventures to share. Rachel, as Deni says, "is a kick in the pants" and she was in fine form, begging for cheddar bunnies and chocolate goldfish crackers and refusing to try the stew or the couscous. Deni later reassured me that she will, in fact, eat like a normal kid one day. Deni's greatest regret is taking such a hard line with her kids about food -- no sugar, only whole grains, no juice, etc. -- and now her grandsons eat a lot of junk because Deni's daughter veered the opposite direction from her mother. Bottom line is that I will ask Rachel's pediatrician in July whether Rachel should be eating a bigger variety of foods and how to get her to eat more of the stuff I like to make.
On Sunday we mellowed out after I made a few frantic calls about the water stains and ceiling crackling above the fireplace; it totally ruined my evening on Saturday. Then we went to the mall and swung by the park for a while. Rachel walked across a "bridge" on the play structure that was made of rubber; it is wobbly and I was so proud of her gingerly walking it all by herself. We went on the "teeter-totter" (seesaw) for a while until it got cold, then we went home for snack and nap. I fell asleep rocking her in the chair and had just enough time to make beef stroganoff for our friend Anne who came to dinner at 6:30. Anne brought Rachel some cool sunglasses with bows that are a bit too big, but she'll grow into them. She also amused Rachel by showing her some videos of her cats and dog on her Smartphone.
Then I put Rachel to bed after Anne left, cleaned up the kitchen, ran the dishwasher and stumbled, bleary-eyed, into bed at midnight. Not a great way to start the workweek. Which is why I'm turning in early tonight. Have a good one, folks.
Rachel teaches Mommy a lesson
Yesterday, in the midst of an exhausting weekend (more on that later), I was at Verizon trying to get my malfunctioning headphone replaced. The not-so-bright guy at the counter insisted that I bring in my charger or he wouldn't help me.
I was tired, cranky and told him to please don't make me go back home, this is in the only time I have to do this, I'm a single mom and I can't take care of it during the week. He was totally unmoved.
So I grabbed Rachel, shoved her into the stroller, piled my coat and assorted detritus on her lap, raced to the car and barked at her to hop in the car seat. I went home, stormed into the house to get my charger, came back out and drove back to the mall. Rachel didn't say a single word the whole time except to yelp in surprise and anger at my outburst when it began.
As we pulled into the mall again (for some reason it was impossible to find a parking space), I cut the engine, got out of the car and crawled into the back seat and apologized to Rachel. "Mommy shouldn't have gotten mad. I'm sorry," I said.
She looked at me reproachfully and said, "You yell at me. You shouldn't yell at people."
"You're right, Rachel," I replied.
And then she followed it up with:
"I not go away. I love you and I need you."
It was all I could do not to totally dissolve into tears. Somehow, she managed to say the exact right thing just when I needed it. How did she know??
I was tired, cranky and told him to please don't make me go back home, this is in the only time I have to do this, I'm a single mom and I can't take care of it during the week. He was totally unmoved.
So I grabbed Rachel, shoved her into the stroller, piled my coat and assorted detritus on her lap, raced to the car and barked at her to hop in the car seat. I went home, stormed into the house to get my charger, came back out and drove back to the mall. Rachel didn't say a single word the whole time except to yelp in surprise and anger at my outburst when it began.
As we pulled into the mall again (for some reason it was impossible to find a parking space), I cut the engine, got out of the car and crawled into the back seat and apologized to Rachel. "Mommy shouldn't have gotten mad. I'm sorry," I said.
She looked at me reproachfully and said, "You yell at me. You shouldn't yell at people."
"You're right, Rachel," I replied.
And then she followed it up with:
"I not go away. I love you and I need you."
It was all I could do not to totally dissolve into tears. Somehow, she managed to say the exact right thing just when I needed it. How did she know??
Friday, March 4, 2011
Bad, bad, bad, bad Mommy
We were about to enter the Toddler room at daycare and in my eagerness to shut the door before any of the kids could wander out, I tried to close it. Then I heard a bloodcurdling scream.
It was Rachel. I had mashed two of her fingers in the door.
She started shrieking and sobbing. I took a look at her fingers and my heart turned over -- they were red and some of the skin had peeled off. I rushed her to the sink and ran cold water over them, even after she started crying for hot water (remember how cold water hurts after a while, but it's necessary to reduce swelling. Or so we've been told).
Then I did the only thing I could think of -- I lifted her up, brought her over to the glider and rocked her for a couple of moments. Then I asked if she wanted cheddar bunnies (left over from last night, and I had stashed them in her lunch box). She sniffled that, yes, she did. I gave her some, and wrapped two miniature Band-Aids around her fingers and kissed them over and over again.
Then I cuddled her close while the nausea rose in my throat. I smashed my own daughter's fingers in the door! How could I be so careless? How could she ever forgive me? I'm a terrible parent!!
She seemed to calm down for a while and I had to get to work (I was already later than I'd wanted to be), so I left. At odd moments of the day I'd think about that awful scream of hers and get on the verge of tears. Then I'd bury myself in work again to make myself forget.
She seemed OK when I collected her tonight, and Teacher Jennifer said she'd been fine today. But tonight she was complaining that her fingers hurt and that she wanted the medicine at school -- she called it Ibuprofen, so I'm guessing they gave her Toddler Tylenol or Advil or whatever they've got. I gave her some Bactine and put fresh Band-Aids on, which I replaced after her bath. She was still complaining her fingers hurt, though.
I told her that I bet her fingers will feel much better tomorrow. I hope, I hope, I hope I'm right.
It was Rachel. I had mashed two of her fingers in the door.
She started shrieking and sobbing. I took a look at her fingers and my heart turned over -- they were red and some of the skin had peeled off. I rushed her to the sink and ran cold water over them, even after she started crying for hot water (remember how cold water hurts after a while, but it's necessary to reduce swelling. Or so we've been told).
Then I did the only thing I could think of -- I lifted her up, brought her over to the glider and rocked her for a couple of moments. Then I asked if she wanted cheddar bunnies (left over from last night, and I had stashed them in her lunch box). She sniffled that, yes, she did. I gave her some, and wrapped two miniature Band-Aids around her fingers and kissed them over and over again.
Then I cuddled her close while the nausea rose in my throat. I smashed my own daughter's fingers in the door! How could I be so careless? How could she ever forgive me? I'm a terrible parent!!
She seemed to calm down for a while and I had to get to work (I was already later than I'd wanted to be), so I left. At odd moments of the day I'd think about that awful scream of hers and get on the verge of tears. Then I'd bury myself in work again to make myself forget.
She seemed OK when I collected her tonight, and Teacher Jennifer said she'd been fine today. But tonight she was complaining that her fingers hurt and that she wanted the medicine at school -- she called it Ibuprofen, so I'm guessing they gave her Toddler Tylenol or Advil or whatever they've got. I gave her some Bactine and put fresh Band-Aids on, which I replaced after her bath. She was still complaining her fingers hurt, though.
I told her that I bet her fingers will feel much better tomorrow. I hope, I hope, I hope I'm right.
Irresistible one- (and two-) liners
"I have two sisters and two babies!" Rachel announced on the way in to daycare this morning.
"Really, Rachel?" I asked. "What are their names?"
"Feldor and Delly," she said. "They're very cute."
Folks, don't even ask.
***
When we got to daycare Rachel said, "Mommy, it's not raining! That's because your coat is all dry!"
***
On the way home we made a quick run for milk, cheddar bunnies and some ingredients I need to make dessert for the folks who are coming over this weekend. As we headed to the grocery store in Salem, she said, "Sing Shabbat songs! 'Cuz I'm hungry for Shabbat songs!"
My heart melted, of course.
***
When we got home I went straight into the bedroom to change into my knockaround "home clothes" -- a pair of jeans so comfy that they have gotten loose on me; a long-sleeve t-shirt from Ann Arbor and a blue Patagonia pullover that Rachel refers to as my fleece. It has served as a big blanket for her from the time she was a baby, so she always asks me to wear it, especially to work. Which I can't because it is way beyond the point of being able to be seen in publicly.
Today, though, I wore a black turtleneck and a soft black cardigan from L.L. Bean to work. As I was taking my clothes off and putting them away, I asked her if she liked my black sweater.
"I like this better than your fleece," she said. "It's kinda cute."
Then she pointed to a bunch of turtlenecks in my drawer and said, "I bought you all those clothes." (She said the same thing the other day when I wore the pink raincoat she loves so much. "I like your raincoat," she said. "I bought you that.").
***
We got home late, and Rachel wanted spaghetti right away. She didn't much like having to wait for it to cook.
"Quickly, spaghetti! Hurry, spaghetti!" she said. "I gotta eat you!"
***
The last bit of conversation we had before I put her down to sleep (too late, as usual on a Friday night):
"It's cloudy outside!" Rachel said.
"Think it'll be cloudy tomorrow?" I asked.
"Yeah," she answered.
"Actually, it's supposed to rain the whole weekend," I said.
"Rachel and Mommy don't like rain," she said. "Daddy like rain?"
"Yes," I said. "Daddy's crazy."
"Crazy Daddy!" Rachel agreed.
I wished her a Good Shabbas and told her to sleep tight, then was about to open the door when I heard her say something indistiguishable from her crib. I walked back and peered over the railing.
"What did you say?" I asked.
"I'll miss you!" she said.
"Really, Rachel?" I asked. "What are their names?"
"Feldor and Delly," she said. "They're very cute."
Folks, don't even ask.
***
When we got to daycare Rachel said, "Mommy, it's not raining! That's because your coat is all dry!"
***
On the way home we made a quick run for milk, cheddar bunnies and some ingredients I need to make dessert for the folks who are coming over this weekend. As we headed to the grocery store in Salem, she said, "Sing Shabbat songs! 'Cuz I'm hungry for Shabbat songs!"
My heart melted, of course.
***
When we got home I went straight into the bedroom to change into my knockaround "home clothes" -- a pair of jeans so comfy that they have gotten loose on me; a long-sleeve t-shirt from Ann Arbor and a blue Patagonia pullover that Rachel refers to as my fleece. It has served as a big blanket for her from the time she was a baby, so she always asks me to wear it, especially to work. Which I can't because it is way beyond the point of being able to be seen in publicly.
Today, though, I wore a black turtleneck and a soft black cardigan from L.L. Bean to work. As I was taking my clothes off and putting them away, I asked her if she liked my black sweater.
"I like this better than your fleece," she said. "It's kinda cute."
Then she pointed to a bunch of turtlenecks in my drawer and said, "I bought you all those clothes." (She said the same thing the other day when I wore the pink raincoat she loves so much. "I like your raincoat," she said. "I bought you that.").
***
We got home late, and Rachel wanted spaghetti right away. She didn't much like having to wait for it to cook.
"Quickly, spaghetti! Hurry, spaghetti!" she said. "I gotta eat you!"
***
The last bit of conversation we had before I put her down to sleep (too late, as usual on a Friday night):
"It's cloudy outside!" Rachel said.
"Think it'll be cloudy tomorrow?" I asked.
"Yeah," she answered.
"Actually, it's supposed to rain the whole weekend," I said.
"Rachel and Mommy don't like rain," she said. "Daddy like rain?"
"Yes," I said. "Daddy's crazy."
"Crazy Daddy!" Rachel agreed.
I wished her a Good Shabbas and told her to sleep tight, then was about to open the door when I heard her say something indistiguishable from her crib. I walked back and peered over the railing.
"What did you say?" I asked.
"I'll miss you!" she said.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Rachel makes Mommy laugh
So last night I was cuddling her close and telling her all the fun things we're going to do when Daddy comes home FOR GOOD this summer: Take walks after dinner, ride our bikes, get ice cream, go camping, sleep in a tent...
"And I clean my bedroom!" she exclaimed. I cracked up. She always gets this confused look on her face, as if she doesn't know whether I'm laughing at her or with her, or, indeed, what the hell is so funny anyway. Then she smiles tentatively as if to say, "yeah, I MEANT that." Which makes me laugh even more, of course.
***
"What did you do at school today, honey?" I asked her at dinner.
"Go in the preschool room," she said.
"Who did you play with?"
"Eva. I helped her find the baby."
"Really?"
"Yeah." And then she slid off her chair to demonstrate Eva's distress.
"Where's the baby where's the baby where's the baby?!?!?" she exclaimed, pretending to rummage through a shelf where the baby dolls presumably live. "And I get it for her."
Her conclusion: "Eva's little."
***
I was singing "Dayenu" (which Rachel refers to as "the Passover song," when she interrupted me. "Hotsi is my FAVORITE part," she said. (As in, Elu hotsi hotsi anu...etc.).
"What's YOUR favorite?" she asked.
"Um, Shabbas," I hedged. "(Elu hotsi hotsi anu hotsi anu Et Hashabas....)
"What's Daddy's favorite?" she said.
"I don't know, honey," I answered. "You'll have to ask him."
She thought about it.
"Shabbas too!" she said. So, Drew, you need to choose a favorite part of the song because she'll ask you when you come home for a visit next week.
***
Mini-milestone tonight: She set the table AND cleared it after dinner, INLCUDING Mommy's salad bowl, without a whimper of complaint. In fact, tonight was one of the most perfect ones we've had (minus the whining and crying when Mommy didn't give her cheddar bunnies, a new snack she adores. Guess how I'm spending my evening tomorrow? Buying a box of cheddar bunnies. Hey, they're organic and semi-nutritional and she eats them, so I'm not complaining. Much).
"And I clean my bedroom!" she exclaimed. I cracked up. She always gets this confused look on her face, as if she doesn't know whether I'm laughing at her or with her, or, indeed, what the hell is so funny anyway. Then she smiles tentatively as if to say, "yeah, I MEANT that." Which makes me laugh even more, of course.
***
"What did you do at school today, honey?" I asked her at dinner.
"Go in the preschool room," she said.
"Who did you play with?"
"Eva. I helped her find the baby."
"Really?"
"Yeah." And then she slid off her chair to demonstrate Eva's distress.
"Where's the baby where's the baby where's the baby?!?!?" she exclaimed, pretending to rummage through a shelf where the baby dolls presumably live. "And I get it for her."
Her conclusion: "Eva's little."
***
I was singing "Dayenu" (which Rachel refers to as "the Passover song," when she interrupted me. "Hotsi is my FAVORITE part," she said. (As in, Elu hotsi hotsi anu...etc.).
"What's YOUR favorite?" she asked.
"Um, Shabbas," I hedged. "(Elu hotsi hotsi anu hotsi anu Et Hashabas....)
"What's Daddy's favorite?" she said.
"I don't know, honey," I answered. "You'll have to ask him."
She thought about it.
"Shabbas too!" she said. So, Drew, you need to choose a favorite part of the song because she'll ask you when you come home for a visit next week.
***
Mini-milestone tonight: She set the table AND cleared it after dinner, INLCUDING Mommy's salad bowl, without a whimper of complaint. In fact, tonight was one of the most perfect ones we've had (minus the whining and crying when Mommy didn't give her cheddar bunnies, a new snack she adores. Guess how I'm spending my evening tomorrow? Buying a box of cheddar bunnies. Hey, they're organic and semi-nutritional and she eats them, so I'm not complaining. Much).
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Sweet Rachel expressions
This morning, as she held out her hands for me to lift her out of her crib:
"I need some snuggles!"
***
As we were finishing up the book I always read to her in the morning, no matter how late I'm running:
Me: Rachel, I'd like you to stay just the way you are. I want you to always be little!
Rachel: NO! I need to open doors!
***
After daycare we make a little ritual of Rachel getting a drink of water from the water fountain and both of us going to the bathroom downstairs. She cheers whenever Mommy pees.
Tonight, she said this: "Only girls can have babies in their tummies. Not boys."
Hear that, Drew??
***
Tonight, for some reason, she suddenly decided she needed to go to the airport to board an airplane to visit Grandpa. (Grandma and PopPop, sorry, I don't know why you weren't included in this).
Rachel: I go in an airplane. You stay with Craig.
(She then walks into her bedroom and returns with her Winnie-the-Pooh winter hat and gloves, puts them on & prepares to leave).
Rachel: Bye-bye!
Me (and Craig): Where are you going, Rachel?
Rachel: I go to the airport.
(Opens the kitchen door and walks down the stairs toward the garage).
Craig: How are you going to get there, Rachel?
(Rachel doesn't answer, but with great dignity she returns, takes her hat and gloves off, and returns to the bedroom).
I told Craig the whole scene reminded me of something Drew and I used to say to Rachel whenever she took off crawling at lightning-fast pace: "Where do you think you're going and what are you going to do when you get there?"
***
As I was rocking her to sleep, I seized her hands and started kissing them -- which is something she usually hates.
Me: Oh! These sweet hands!
Rachel: Oh, this sweet Mommy!
I burst out laughing and put her to bed.
"I need some snuggles!"
***
As we were finishing up the book I always read to her in the morning, no matter how late I'm running:
Me: Rachel, I'd like you to stay just the way you are. I want you to always be little!
Rachel: NO! I need to open doors!
***
After daycare we make a little ritual of Rachel getting a drink of water from the water fountain and both of us going to the bathroom downstairs. She cheers whenever Mommy pees.
Tonight, she said this: "Only girls can have babies in their tummies. Not boys."
Hear that, Drew??
***
Tonight, for some reason, she suddenly decided she needed to go to the airport to board an airplane to visit Grandpa. (Grandma and PopPop, sorry, I don't know why you weren't included in this).
Rachel: I go in an airplane. You stay with Craig.
(She then walks into her bedroom and returns with her Winnie-the-Pooh winter hat and gloves, puts them on & prepares to leave).
Rachel: Bye-bye!
Me (and Craig): Where are you going, Rachel?
Rachel: I go to the airport.
(Opens the kitchen door and walks down the stairs toward the garage).
Craig: How are you going to get there, Rachel?
(Rachel doesn't answer, but with great dignity she returns, takes her hat and gloves off, and returns to the bedroom).
I told Craig the whole scene reminded me of something Drew and I used to say to Rachel whenever she took off crawling at lightning-fast pace: "Where do you think you're going and what are you going to do when you get there?"
***
As I was rocking her to sleep, I seized her hands and started kissing them -- which is something she usually hates.
Me: Oh! These sweet hands!
Rachel: Oh, this sweet Mommy!
I burst out laughing and put her to bed.
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