Oh, she is so my daughter...

Last night at dinner Rachel looked anxious.

"I'm worried about something, but I don't know what it is," she said.

"What are you worried about, sweetie?" I asked.

"I'm worried you'll go off to college and you won't come back," she said.

Tiring day

I stayed up way too late last night preparing my first-ever PowerPoint presentation about the law school to the marketing folks at Willamette. Result: I'm going on five hours of sleep right now. Mama is tired.

Today as we were getting ready to leave the house I bent down to Rachel's level and said, "Rachel? Mommy stayed up very late last night working. I'm very tired today. Can you please be patient with me?" She answered "yeah," but I don't think she really understood.

That was tested later today when traffic made me 25 minutes late for preschool and I raced home with Rachel, changed clothes and was getting ready to drive her to the park (ugh, I'd rather walk but it was so late and she wanted to go to the park so badly even though it was cold that I figured we'd just take the car) when she asked if she could put on her swimsuit and go in the fountain. "No, honey, it's too cold," I told her. She pleaded and pleaded but I stood my ground (although I did call Drew for a consultation, but he was finishing up a radio show he was on tonight). She started whining and crying, and I said, "if you keep that up, we won't go at all. Would you like me to give you a timeout?" She shook her head.

I went back inside and then came out again, and asked her if she realized we weren't going to go in the fountain. She said yes and seemed quite chipper as we drove to the park.

"I'm sorry I whined and cried," she said as we pulled up to Grant Park.

"Thank you for the apology, sweetie," I answered. "I really appreciate it."

Then we both got out of the car and she immediately put her hand in mine as we walked the short distance to the swings.

"I'm holding your hand because I love you," she said.

I was so touched.

"Well, that's great because I love you too!" I said, and she ran off to play.

Let's start the week with a smile...

This morning it started RAINING. In AUGUST. And it was CHILLY OUTSIDE.
"I think I need an umbrella," Rachel said to Drew, who gave her the little one she carries around. "I don't think this is a day to go to the park right now," she said regretfully.

***

Tonight on the way to the park (it had cleared up enough for me to come home, change into "park clothes," which means jeans and a t-shirt, pop Rachel in the stroller and head to Grant Park) she said she wanted to go to kindergarten.
"Why do you want to go to kindergarten?" I asked.
"So I can play, and fix tires," she said seriously (fixing tires is a reference to her bicycle tire, which is flat; it's leaking air and Drew needs to take it to the bike shop to get fixed for when she'll eventually fit on it; Constance got it for free about a year ago).

***

This coming Saturday we're hosting a professor, his wife, and their baby, Apar, for dinner. Apar is about a year old, and I told Rachel that she could let Apar play with some of her baby toys.
"I can teach her how to share," she concluded. Oh, I can't wait to see THAT lesson!

Lovely weekend

Sorry the blog has been silent for a while, folks. I was consumed with several projects last week, but now that I've slayed two of them (the last one, a PowerPoint presentation on Tuesday that I'm doing some work on tonight), now I can turn my attention to what has been going on in our lives.

We had another delightful weekend of routine weather (especially notable in the wake of Hurricane Irene. Glad everyone is safe and sound). On Saturday I ran some errands by bike, then met Drew and Rachel later that day at a picnic at Laurelhurst Park given by the Northwestern Alumni Association. I brought chocolate chip cake, almost all of which was immediately gone (same with the peanut butter cookies I made for today's meeting of our chavurah). We met a nice older NU grad named Larry Frank, who was quite taken with Rachel. He complimented us on her blue eyes, predicting that "she'll be a knockout when she gets older!" He also remarked on how secure she seems, and so comfortable with adults -- she just climbed right up on the picnic table bench with the grownups and began eating. I told him we've tried hard not to spoil her and make her the center of our world, and to make sure she's comfortable around grownups -- although she also knows not to talk to strangers, becasue they've taught her at preschool that "strangers are scary!"

Then I biked home, Drew put Rachel down for a nap and I did some work until she woke up. It was beastly hot, and all we were in the mood for was grilled burgers and corn on the cob, and salad. Afterwards we promised Rachel a "special treat" -- Ben & Jerry's ice cream! (the last time we went, she got her ice cream first and then, without a howdy-do, marched over to a table with a free chair, where another family was eating their ice cream. Rachel just sat down companiably and began chatting with them and eating her ice cream, as if we didn't exist. They were charmed!)

After we finished up, Drew pointed out a great Goodwill store on Hawthorne that the salespeople call "the boutique," because it's the best stuff from all the donation centers. We browsed a bit but had to leave, since they close at 9. It'll definitely be a winter destination, perhaps a shopping trip for Rachel and Mommy!

Today I got up early to make peanut butter cookies, and Rachel got to help me roll the dough in sugar before the cookies went into the oven (and when they came out, I presed a dark chocolate Hershey's kiss in the middle. All 36 cookies were gone before we left the chavurah). Then we headed to the chavurah, and had a really good time. The folks sponsoring it have a small house but a big backyard, so we all chatted around a big table while the kids played croquet, and flew paper airplanes. It was gratifying to see Rachel dive right in although the kids are much older than she is -- I believe the youngest is a year or two older. She occasionally sat in our laps for cookies or cuddling but then hopped off, absorbed in playing with her stuffed Curious George. I even got some color on my arms and chest, and fell asleep in the sun after drinking a mimosa or two.

Now I'm finishing up this post while Rachel, with Drew's supervision, sprays vinegar water on some weeds in our driveway so they'll die. I'm about to prepare mustard chicken for the grill. We'll have corn and salad and maybe ice cream again before Rachel goes to sleep, I do more work after dinner and Drew packs up and heads to Seattle tomorrow. Happy weekend, y'all!

More random Rachel

Here are some random Rachel quotes for your night's enjoyment:

As we were getting into the car this morning, Rachel informed me that she had heard the rain last night. "I heard it on the deck," she said. I love that image, of her listening to the rain, half-drowsy, feeling secure and loved.

"I think the sound of rain falling is one of the loveliest sounds there is," I said. I hope she agrees!

***

At the park tonight, we met a little girl named Ava. Ava had long curly brown hair and lovely face and blue-green eyes, but she was about 6 and still in diapers. And while she laughed and smiled, she couldn't speak. So, there's obviously something different about her but I didn't want to ask her father what it is.

She went to the tetherball pole while we were there and grabbed onto the ball. Rachel was a little perturbed (although she didn't fuss) and Ava's father persuaded her to give the ball back. She did.

Suddenly, Rachel looked right at her and said, "what a beautiful smile!"

Ava's dad responded, "what a beautiful voice!"

I was speechless. "Rachel, that is so nice of you to say," I said. And I looked at Ava's dad and said, "That was totally unexpected."

Seeing Ava reminded me how fortunate we are that Rachel is growing and developing normally, which I hope continues.

***

As I was making dinner:
Me: Do you like my long hair, Rachel?
Rachel: You don't have long hair!
Me: Well, I'm trying to grow it long.
Rachel: If you grow it longer and longer, you'll look like a princess!

***

At dinner tonight Rachel said, "what's a sample?" After I had used the expression, "here's an example," to explain something to her.
"Example," I said. "An example is...something that sounds like what you're trying to explain."
"I have an example," she said. "Grownups eat whatever they want."
"Well, that's true, Rachel," I said. "But by the time you're a grownup, you don't eat whatever you want. When I was a little kid I couldn't wait to be a grownup and eat whatever I wanted and play all the time. But by the time you get to be a grownup, you don't want to do those things."
"Why?" she asked.
"Well, because if you eat too many cookies and cupcakes, you get sick," I explained. "And you don't want to play all day because...I sound really boring, don't I?"
"Yeah," she replied.
I settled on the example of how as a grownup I don't like milk chocolate anymore, just dark chocolate.
"I like milk chocolate AND dark chocolate," she said.
"Well, milk chocolate tastes too sweet to me," I said. "I just like dark chocolate."
Translation of the entire exchange? I'm getting OLD.

***

As I put her to bed tonight, Rachel announced totally out of the blue, in that singsong-y voice of hers: "I'm ready for kindergarten! I wanna go to kindergarten!" I was completely taken aback!

***

"Goodnight, Rachel, I love you," I said as I left her room.
"I love you too," she said. "Have a nice dream! What are you going to dream about?"
"I don't know, sweetie," I said.
"I'm going to dream about a bathroom," she announced.
"A bathroom? Why are you going to dream about a bathroom?" I said.
"I'm going to dream about someone going potty," she said.
"Um, OK," I answered, and shut the door.

Childhood lesson

One of the most important things to teach a child, I think, is that no matter what they do, Mommy and Daddy will always love them and they'll always be able to go home again. I want Rachel to remember her home as a place that was filled with good cooking smells, music on the radio, shelves full of books and beautiful furnishings. Much like the home I grew up in. Mom and Dad always told us that no matter what we did, they'd always love us. They told us they would even visit us in prison, if it came to that.

Tonight I had my chance to say that with Rachel. She was being really whiny at dinner -- kept begging for a cookie and wouldn't listen when I told her she had to finish her steak first. I told her she could have applesauce if she finished her steak, too. Naturally she didn't, and then she began whining for me to tell her how many bites she had to take of her steak before she got a cookie. I refused, she tired herself out, and then she got mad when she realized I had set her favorite placemat next to me instead of her.

"You did a BAD THING!" she growled. "You can't come to my wedding!"

I had to suppress the laughter. "Really, Rachel?" I said. "That seems an awfully harsh punishment for not giving you your favorite placemat."

She sat and pouted, and I just cleaned up around her. Then she got meek and quiet (probably because she realized I wasn't going to placate her) and when I gently suggested it was time for Mommy Books, she burst into tears and clutched me as I carried her into the bedroom.

"What's the matter, honey?" I said soothingly. She wouldn't answer. So I answered for her.

"I bet I know why you're crying," I said as I cuddled her in my lap in the glider. "You're worried that because you said mean things to Mommy, Mommy won't love you anymore, right? And you're probably sorry for the mean things you said."

I could feel her nodding her head around my neck.

"Well, Mommy's pretty strong," I said. "I can take it when you say mean things, but you really should apologize. But this is really important for you to realize, Rachel. No matter how many mean things you say, or how many mean things you do, Mommy will always love you. That's very important for you to understand -- as important as it is for you to know how to pee and poo in the potty. OK?"

She nodded her little tear-stained face.

"How about saying you're sorry?" I prompted.

"I'm sorry," she replied.

Then we read four books, and washed hands and face and brushed teeth, and I proceeded to tell her a made-up story (after she said, "tell me a story about a girl who rides her bicycle to the park, Mommy,") about an agoraphobic little girl named Susie who lives in a city with no playgrounds or trees or flowers ("and no bees for the flowers!" Rachel exclaimed) and she has only a piece of paper and a crayon to play with, she gets paler and paler, and her bike never gets used so it gets all rusty, and her parents get more and more worried and so they start looking for a house, but it takes them two years to find one, and then they find one in a neighborhood just like the one we live in, with trees and playgrounds and basketball hoops in the streets and houses with yards that are small but big enough for badminton sets, and Susie kicks up a huge screaming mess of a fuss when they try to drag her out of the city because she's afraid of the outside, but they wrestle her into the car and drive to her new house, and when she gets there she opens the door, looks around and asks her parents very softly where her bike is. And then she gets on it and rides her bike to the park.

"That's a GREAT STORY, Mommy," Rachel sighed when I was done. "I need to give you a big hug and a big kiss!"

Who needs TV? Or an iPad?

..when you can have a round robin storytelling session starring Rachel, Mommy and Daddy?

Tonight as we were finishing up our dinner, Rachel asked us to tell her a story (which she asks us to do ALL THE TIME NOW, I think she's secretly penning a memoir) and somehow we got the idea to tell it in sections, with each of us taking a section and sending the story in a completely new direction. Rachel gave us the prompts: The first story was about a girl who waved a chicken leg in the air and then a flower in the air, and the second story was about a person reading a book. She contributed one or two sentences during the storytelling, but then got tired and listened to us, her mouth half open, hanging on to every word. It was great.

You'd be amazed at where those stories went. The girl who waved the chicken leg and flower was named Deanna (courtesy of Drew) and she lived with her family in a house that was haunted by a ghost named Cyrus who turned Deanna's chicken leg into a flower and her flower into a chicken leg because he was upset that the house stood in the place of a garden that he used to tend for the family that had lived in the house 50 years before. So the family promised to let him fill their flower boxes with begonias if they agreed to stop haunting them (this was after a "house doctor" with funny instruments came to the house and diagnosed the problem). So, for the rest of the time they lived in the house, the begonias bloomed without any help from Deanna and her family; Cyrus, the gardener, tended to them.

The person reading the book turned out to be a librarian named Jenny who worked in a library with a door that she couldn't open. No one knew what was behind that door, not even Jenny. Well, one day she was alone in the library when she heard the door to the secret room swing open. She took a flashlight and investigated, but (Rachel's contribution) she was too scared to go in. So the next day she and her library science professor, Prof. Ruus, went into the room and encountered a little old man samed Sir Henry, reading a book from the pile of books he was sitting on, who got very cranky at being disturbed. And when Jenny and Prof. Ruus asked if they could read one of his books, he said no, they're my books in old languages and you wouldn't understand them, so go away. (Rachel didn't like that and said he couldn't come to her house). So Jenny and Prof. Ruus offered him a book of Dr. Seuss stories (including Horton Hatches the Egg and The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins) and he was so enchanted by them that he grudgingly agreed to a book exchange. So, now when some of the books in the library are missing, and librarians don't seem to know where they are, they're really being read by Sir Henry.

"I really hope she remembers this," Drew said after we were done. "I want her to have a love of stories, and I want that to be a permanent part of her being." Now Drew is even asking HER to tell US stories. "OK, that's fair," she said.

Tonight is the first night I've ever thought, Damn, she is lucky to have us as her parents.

Saturday morning trip

This morning Rachel kept yelling from her crib, "Daddy! Daddy!"
"He's in the bathroom, Rachel!" I yelled back. She started crying, so I wrapped myself in a dressing gown and went into her room to reassure her I wasn't mad. She settled herself in next to me on the glider and said she wanted to read a LOT of books. Then she pretended to strap on a seat belt.

"Fasten your belt!" she said. "We're going to Dinosuar-land!"

Dinosaur Land is where we get to see Mommy and baby dinosaurs but not Daddy dinosaurs. The dinosaurs are nice, not mean, and they don't bite. We get to play with them. Sounds like a trippy version of Jurassic Park. Sign me up!

***

"I want to be a grownup and drink wine," Rachel told me this morning.
"Rachel, why do you want to drink wine so much?" I asked her.
"Because," she said. "I want to be just like you!"
I could only say thank you. Hopefully that sentiment won't die anytime soon.

***

I've talked before about how we've tried to cultivate in Rachel an attitude of thankfulness. This morning she said, totally out of the blue, "Thank you for the presents!"
I was puzzled because I haven't brought her any gifts lately.
"Thank you for the bracelet and the shirt!" she said. (I had brought those back from Vermont). I was stunned that she remembered, and that she's still thanking me for them.

This morning Drew thanked me for making the bed, as he usually does. When I sat down to breakfast Rachel echoed, "Thank you for making the bed, Mommy!"

Looks like it's working.

Rachel language

So, Rachel is developing her own vocabulary: "accident" is "askident," and "connesation" is "conversation." It is beyond adorable, and the only regret I have is that she'll someday leave these words behind and Drew and I will be the only ones who remember them.

***

Rachel chose a terrific outfit today: Black long-sleeved shirt with polka dots; purple skirt and red/pink/white tights, with crocs. Drew swore to me over the phone that she would've looked right at home on the campus of NYU, and I thought he was kidding until I saw her when I got home tonight. Plus, she was wearing princess earrings (pink in one ear, yellow in another), a princess necklace, princess bracelet and a ring. She looked so fashion-forward, she took my breath away.

***

Random things Rachel eats: Dry oatmeal (no, I'm not kidding). Rigatoni that we call penne just to get her to eat it. Cereal. Bacon (on weekends). Chocolate-chip scones (on weekends). She has sworn off vegetables for the time being, and I at least have sworn off nagging her. We'll pick it up again next week, I'm sure.

Ahhh.....summer

Perfect evening tonight: I left work early (well, early for me when Drew is home -- usually I leave at 6:30 or even 7; today I left at 6:15). Got to Grant Park in time to see Rachel run through the fountain that features metal statues of Ramona, Henry and Beezus (from the Beverly Cleary books). Then we all played a little tetherball. Drew went home to prepare dinner and Rachel and I played on the seesaw and the swings and the play structure (she went down the slides BACKWARDS and is such a climbing monkey these days that I told her we really need to take her to an indoor climbing gym this winter. I think she'd have a blast). It was wonderful to sit on the park bench in a sleeveless dress and light jacket and feel warm. It gets up to 84 degrees in the day and cools to 60 or so at night. Perfect weather!

Then we had gazpacho, challah and salad for dinner. Rachel interrupted a couple of times to say, "can you finish your contenataion (we figured out she meant "conversation") so I can talk?" Talking turned out to be getting us to ask her what kind of pretend ice cream she wanted and Drew saying he really likes dirty socks ice cream, and pavement ice cream, and so on.

Now he's putting her to bed while I spend the next two hours getting work done. It's lovely sitting by an open window with a light breeze, oldies on the radio and the dishwasher humming. Soon enough it will be winter and we'll be shut up inside. I hope that in return for our late summer we get a late fall.

Rachel's diss on Drew today:

Rachel, as they were driving to preschool:
--Daddy, can you tell me a story? Mommy tells really good stories.
--Do I tell really good stories? Drew asked.
__No, Rachel said matter-of-actly.

I think he's kind of sad she said that. But he's hiding it well.

Rachel's latest excuse for not eating carrots

"I can't eat carrots, Mommy," Rachel said tonight. "They're not good for my brain."
"They are very GOOD for your brain," I replied.
"No they're not," she replied. "My brain tells me carrots are yucky."

Now folks, who can argue with that???

She's so sweet, she makes me cry even harder

So, you all remember the post about Knuffle Bunny Free, right? The book I can't read without crying? Well, Rachel insisted that I read it tonight and I really, really let go. (With enough repetition, I'm sure my senses will eventually be dulled to the point that I can get through it with nary a tear, but we are not at that point yet).

"Why are you crying, Mommy?" Rachel said.
"Because this book is sad," I sobbed.
"It's not sad," Rachel protested.
"Yes it is!" I said.
"Why is it sad?"
"Because the litte girl grows up and goes AWAY!"
"I won't go away," Rachel promised.
"Yes, you will," I said. "You'll go away to college, and then you'll forget about me."
"I can take a taxi," she said soothingly.

Well, why didn't I think of that? I could only laugh.

***

A few minutes later I was getting her into her pajamas and told her I loved her. And then she said this totally out of the blue:
"No one can take away your daughter."
Stunned, I mumbled something about her going to college.
"I won't go to college," she said cheerfully.
"Oh, yes you will," I said.
"Mommy and Daddy can take me to college," she replied.
"Yes," I replied, already planning the trip back East in my head. "We can drive and make a lot of cool stops along the way. Or we can take a plane. Or a train! And then we'll drop you off and we'll cry."

***

Earlier tonight, on the way home from preschool, we passed the Saturday Market (not to be confused with the farmer's market every Saturday; Saturday Market is an artisan market that is a great source for holiday and birthday gifts). I told her that maybe we can all go when the weather gets cooler and we're looking for holiday gifts for Valerie and Grandma and Grandpa...
"We can get Grandma a beautiful book," she said.
"Yes, we could," I replied.
"And Gradndpa a toy bridge," she said. "And maybe a car!"
So, Grandma and Grandpa...hope you enjoy your gifts. Especially the new Lexus that Rachel has suggested we buy you.

***

Rachel likes to talk about when she was a baby, and also when Drew and I were her age. Tonight she asked me, "Mommy, when you were my age, what did you carry?" (this referred to Knuffle Bunny). I honestly don't remember, I told her. Probably some dolls.

Tonight she turned the tables on me. At dinner she announced, "A long time ago when you were a baby, I used to swaddle you and I gave you a baby rattle. And you wore jammies with salad dressing on them."

Um, yeah.

***

Another totally unexpected suggestion from Rachel this evening:

"Maybe when it gets really really really really really really hot, we can go to Kalamazoo!"
"Why Kalamazoo, Rachel?" I asked.
"It's in the city," she replied.

Guess that makes sense only in Rachel-land.

From the "I can die now," department

Rachel asked me to tell her a story tonight at dinner about "someone with a T-shirt like yours, Mommy." And before I could even begin, she said, "You're really good at thinking of stories, Mommy." SUCCESS!!

***

Also from the "I can die now," department: I can officially say that I'm One Hell of a Cook because I made the most delicious fried chicken you have ever tasted in your life. Last night I spent two hot hours in the kitchen, frying various chicken parts in LARD (I mean, if you're gonna do it, go for the gusto, right?) for a picnic with our friends Deni and Miriam and their significant others Bob and George. (We met them at Grant Park for a concert given by the Oregon Festival Symphony). They ate up a whole Tupperware's worth of the chicken, and we have enough leftovers for two more dinners. I should add that Drew whipped up a batch of his famous chocolate chip cookies with substantial assistance from Rachel, who is proving to be a real help in the kitchen. Drew has still not given me his recipe for the cookies, which are a doctored-up version of the Original Toll House recipe. But Rachel knows.

"So my daughter gets to know the recipe and I don't?" I asked in disbelief.
"Well, she's a DeSilver," Drew said, shrugging.
"That's HARSH," Deni observed.

Anyway, one of the concert tunes was "Peter and the Wolf," and I had forgotten how I loved that piece of music, especiallly when the conducted announced that the bird is played by the piccolo, Peter is played by the strings, Grandfather is played by the bassoon, etc. Unfortunately Rachel was at the other end of the park playing on the swings and slide with Drew. I finally dragged her back by promising her a cookie IF she ate a good dinner (she ended up sneaking in three cookies while we weren't looking, darn the luck). Today, when we went to the park after preschool, she said, "that's where the concert was!" When I asked her if she liked Peter and the Wolf, she said no -- she was scared by the story -- but she liked the part about Peter.

***

Rachel now talks a lot about the people she wants to invite to her house because they're nice and she likes them: Devin. Sadie. Amanda. All the kids in the "pink" group at preschool (she is in the "purple" group).

On the way home tonight she informed me, "We can't use potty words at Devin's house."
"No, we can't," I agreed.
"But we can use potty words at home," she said.
"No, we can't use potty words at home," I answered. "Those are bad words."

She's growing up, Part 685

Drew was all set to teach Rachel logic last night after he pointed out a fire truck passing them by on the way to school.

"Is the fire truck coming or going to the fire?" he asked Rachel.
"Coming from the fire," she answered.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because the lights aren't on," she said patiently.

Well, so much for that, Drew thought -- he had thought he'd need to explain how you could tell whether a fire truck was coming or going to a fire. Looks like she figured it out herself! "Yep, my days of being an all-knowing oracle are pretty limited now," Drew said just now. "Let's see if I can make it to kindergarten."

***

"Chewables, Mommy!" Rachel exclaimed today. Chewables are the fluoride vitamins she takes because this city is too shortsighted to fluoridate its water. She reminds me at breakfast that she needs to take them. We love that she is able to chew and swallow vitamins. We also love that she made it through last night WITH NO DIAPER! She asked to wear underwear to bed which we allowed her to do after extracting a promise that she wouldn't pee in her crib. (Of course if she does we'll just change her jammies and sheets; no big deal). We are weeks away from a big-girl bed. How time flies!

***

"Mommy, you're smaller than Daddy," Rachel said at breakfast today.
"Yes, I am," I answered evenly (although my height is a sore point; I wish I were taller so Drew couldn't make fun of me for being little!).
"You're kinda tiny," Rachel said. I protested that I'M NOT SMALL, and then she and Drew ganged up on me by insisting that I'm little, and we all collapsed into laughter and Rachel yelled, "Family hug!!!" and we all buried each other in hugs and kisses.

A lovely Saturday

Our friend Anne came over for dinner tonight. Her visit culminated a frantic day of de-cluttering by me and Rachel's last swim lesson and a visit to the farmer's market with Drew (it's their Saturday routine; they get lunch at the market and listen to music and eat cookies together companioably. This allows me to get work done at home). Today I didn't work on any writing projects; I used the time to clean off the dining room table, which has been a war zone since before our tenants left. Drew finally moved his computer and all the rest of his work stuff downstairs to his office, where it belongs, and I cleared off the rest of the papers and filed them or threw them away. I also almost entirely cleared out my mail slot of magazines and catalogues. Bottom line: Our house looks normal now, although one of these days I want to tackle our outdated office files and Rachel's toy box, which holds toys she hasn't played with in months. To say nothing of printing all my digital photos and putting them in an album, and finally resolving whether to keep or toss my maternity clothes....

Anyway, we grilled steaks with anchovy butter spread on top; corn; salad and a berry cobbler that cooled on the counter while we ate dinner. Rachel was in a pissy mood and wanted us to read books to her outside, but Drew said no. When she started pouting, he said we are all going to eat dinner and she could join us if she wanted, but we weren't going to stay outside. She started crying a little, but we just started our dinner and she came in to join us -- and proceeded to eat STEAK!! A LOT OF IT!! (Her limited palate seems to be expanding by the day!!!) She finished her dinner quickly, asked to be excused and then proceeded to practice drawing letters on these letter cards that Drew brought back from New York (a genius gift on his part). She'd draw a letter, then run to show Anne, then Drew, then me, then start the process all over again. It was beyond adorable.

Anne always brings a gift for Rachel when she comes over; today it was a package of miniature horsies. Rachel played with them in the living room while we finished up dinner, and when it was time to go to bed she went up to Anne and said, unbidden and very nicely, "Thank you for givign me the horsies. And thank you for giving me the horsie puzzle last time." I was so impressed, and then touched when she came over to my chair and hugged me while clutching three of her stuffed animals. So what that she didn't get to bed until 10? She's a fabulous addition to a dinner party.

Knuffle Bunny Free

Tia Daniella introduced us to Knuffle Bunny, a wonderful book about a little girl named Trixie who lives in Brooklyn and goes everywhere with her stuffed rabbit, Knuffle Bunny. Until one day she forgets it at the Laundromat and chaos ensues...it's a great book with beautiful pictures of Park Slope, and we enjoy it so much that during one of the Borders clear-out sales, Drew swooped in and bought all the Knuffle Bunny books (apparently there are three, and the last one is called Knuffle Bunny Three).

Knuffle Bunny Three is about when Trixie is a girl of about 5 or 6, and she takes Knuffle Bunny on the plane to visit Oma and Opa in Holland...and then leaves the bunny on the plane, which then heads toward China. She's sad until one night she dreams about all the kids around the world who get to play with Knuffle Bunny. Then she's happy, and on the plane home she finds Knuffle Bunny in a flap behind the seat and decides to give it to a baby who's wailing behind her because she realizes she doesn't need Knuffle Bunny anymore. She eventually gets a letter from the baby's family.

As if that's not enough to inspire tears...at the very end of the book is a love letter to Trixie from her Daddy (i.e, from author Mo Willems to his daughter, upon whom the character of Trixie is based) that says he hopes he lives long enough to see her graduate from college, fall in love, get married and have a baby of her own...and the two times I've read the book to Rachel I burst into tears and ended up sobbing.

"Why are you crying, Mommy?" Rachel asked last night.

I really couldn't put it into words. I guess it's the inevitability of her growing up and going away from us, and then us realizing that that part of our lives -- the child-bearing and child-rearing part -- wil be over. It feels like Rachel is suddenly growing up too fast (after all the whining I did when she was a baby and I couldn't stand the endless crying and sleepless nights) and it's bittersweet watching her become more and more independent each day. It's the cycle of life, I guess -- my parents and Drew's parents went through it, and we will go through it, and Rachel, if she is blessed with a child, will go through it herself. It blows my mind that I never realized there was this whole well of emotions that come with being a parent that I couldn't even imagine if I didn't have a kid of my own. I'm so lucky I get to be a parent.

I ended up pleading with Rachel, "can I help you take care of your babies someday?"

"Yes," she replied generously.

Then I looked at her and croaked, "Rachel, please believe that you can always come home to Mommy and Daddy, OK? We will always be here for you."

I don't think it really registered. But maybe she'll remember.

Free associating

On Tuesday after jury duty, Drew took Rachel to Grant Park and...miracle of miracles...SHE PETTED A DOGGIE! It was a dachshund, and she told me all about it at dinner. "I petted a doggie, Mommy!' she said proudly. Hopefully it's the first step toward her getting more comfortable with dogs in this dog-obsessed city.

We spent most of post-dinner table talk cracking up. Actually, Rachel was the one laughing. We started out by her pretending to give us ice cream (Drew ordered chocolate, and when I tried to order chocolate, too, she announced that it was all gone because Daddy had eaten it all. So, I got rainbow flavor). Then Drew pretended to be an ice cream man, and when Rachel asked what flavors he had, he said...

"Smelly feet!"
"YUUCK!" Rachel and Mommy said, laughing.
"What else do you have?" Rachel said.
"Umm...how about...BROCCOLI ice cream?" Drew said.
"YUUCK!" Rachel and Mommy said, laughing.

And so on. It was hilarious to listen to Rachel cracking up; she has such an infectious laugh. Too bad that in a few short years she will be much harder to amuse.

***

As Drew and Rachel were driving over the Hawthorne Bridge (Rachel is beginning to recognize which bridges are which in Portland), Drew said, "that's the river, sweetie!"

No doubt remembering that Madeline liked to play on the bridges in Paris, Rachel said, "Is that Paris?"

I guess she missed me...

Tonight as I was nagging her to eat a carrot (yes, I've become that parent who nags their kid to eat their vegetables), Rachel looked at me and said, "I love you, Mommy. I'm glad you're back from Vermont."

Even though I figured it was probably a stall tactic (so I'd forget about the damn carrot and give her dessert, which I did NOT end up doing), I was still touched.

"Why, thank you, Rachel!" I said. "I'm glad I'm back too."

***

Trenchant observation from my daughter tonight as we headed home from the playground and she finished gulping a whole bunch of water from the water bottle:

"Water is good for your brain, Mom."

I couldn't agree more.

Rachel's other life, Part 2

This morning on the way in to preschool, Rachel referred to her "other house."

Me: Where's your other house, Rachel?
Rachel: Southwest.
Me: And what does it look like?
Rachel: A man. But without a face.
Me: What color is your house?
Rachel: Black.
Me: How many bedrooms does your house have?
Rachel: One.
Me: Where does everyone sleep?
Rachel: Peya sleeps on the couch, the babies sleep in the bedroom and I sleep on the floor.

***

Latest she has learned at preschool:

"I see London, I see France, I see Mommy's underpants!" and "Capeesh. That means, 'really'?""
"Capeesh?" I exclaimed tonight. "Who taught you that? Daddy?"
"No," she said, "I learned it at school.
Figures. Sigh.

Back in!!!

This is a big day, folks. I FINALLY figured out how to get back into the blog. I was locked out because we switched to Google Mail at work and I can't figure out how to simultaneously manage two accounts and blah blah blah who cares? The point is, I haven't been lazy, only frustrated.

So, to catch up on The Little Girl's doings:

This morning I took her to preschool while Drew had jury duty. As I was getting her dressed, she lifted up my dress and chanted, "I see London! I see France! I see Mommy's underpants!"

"Rachel, please don't grow up!" I implored her today.

"But I need to open doors," she replied equably.

She has been very good about letting us drop her off at school without a fuss. Yesterday when Drew did the honors she said, "Look! I'm not fussing and crying!" And today she said to me, "Hug and kiss, Mommy!" and then went off to play with her little friends.

***

I was gone last week at a conference in Vermont, and Drew took care of Rachel the entire week. Some highlights:

Wednesday, during a phone call to me: "Mommy, when are you coming HOME??"

At preschool, to Lila's mommy: "My mommy's in Vermont the WHOLE WEEK!"

Saturday, after her swim lesson: "Mommy! I can swim ALL BY MYSELF! I was kicking and splashing!"

Sunday, as I told her I was getting on the plane: "Will you land in Portland?"

Later Sunday, to Drew: "When Mommy comes back she's not going to leave forever and ever. Nobody's going to throw my Mommy away. If they try to throw my Mommy away, they can't come to my house."