..thanks to Drew, who ordered us a new modem and installed it tonight. Thanks, Drew!!
We've been having a fun, lazy two days -- getting up late, eating leisurely breakfasts, playing with Rachel (Drew), running around doing errands (me, including the most boring errand imaginable -- buying new BRAS, but it had to be done, my old ones are too big now that I've lost weight), cooking dinner at home, putting Rachel to bed (Drew again), cleaning up and de-cluttering the house (me) and watching movies at night.
I could totally get used to this life.
Rachel startled us both last night by announcing, "It's 9 o'clock." Neither of us commented on the time; when did she learn how to read a clock??
We had a late Hanukkah last night, since Drew had a hankering for latkes. I made seven and they turned out perfectly. And Rachel LOVED Drew's gift of a baby doll with a stroller. She has put Dolly (that's its name; I asked) in the stroller and wheeled her (him? it?) all over the house multiple times already. Dolly has a seat at the kitchen table (near the window that looks out onto the driveway) and Rachel tried to feed her some ravioli tonight. When I walked into the bedroom just now, Rachel was sitting in the glider, Drew was next to her reading a story and Dolly was in her stroller. "She's naken!" Rachel announced proudly, and it's true, Dolly was missing the little pink baby pajamas she came with. I think she is fated to be naked as long as Rachel owns her. (If I were Mom, I would have sewed an entire wardrobe for her by now, but I have forgotten all the sewing skills I fleetingly acquired in 7th grade home ec class).
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Rachel discovers adjectives
Today we headed in to daycare after my dentist's appointment -- Drew ended up dropping Rachel off at Dr. McKeel's and I took her to Salem.
On the way, she said, "Daddy gave me Rice Krispies!"
"Really, Rachel?" I said.
"Yeah," she answered. "Out of the box!"
"The big box?" I said.
"Yeah!" she replied. "It was HUGE!"
On the way, she said, "Daddy gave me Rice Krispies!"
"Really, Rachel?" I said.
"Yeah," she answered. "Out of the box!"
"The big box?" I said.
"Yeah!" she replied. "It was HUGE!"
More Zoolights
During the train ride, I told Drew that he was a good dad.
"I hope so," he said. "I've missed a lot."
"You can't make it up to her, you know," I replied.
"But I'll spend the rest of my life trying," he said.
"I hope so," he said. "I've missed a lot."
"You can't make it up to her, you know," I replied.
"But I'll spend the rest of my life trying," he said.
Zoolights!
Against my better judgment, we took Rachel to see "Zoolights" last night. I say "Against my better judgment" because it was after our commute from Salem, which I had hoped to do earlier in the day, but at 4:15 (the time I got back from my office after doing a lot of running around on dumb errands) the dean, the associate dean, the alumni relations director and one of the admin assistants were in the dean's office drinking wine, and what could I do?? So I joined them and we had a nice long conversation until around 5:40 p.m. or so, when I looked at my watch, hurriedly gathered everything together and dashed out the door.
So I asked Drew whether he wanted to see Zoolights last night or tonight. "Zoolights" is a beautiful light display at the Oregon Zoo up in Portland, and I was dying to take Rachel to it because I thought she'd really get something out of it. But it was late, and I was tired, and I was hoping Drew would say tonight instead of last night.
But he suggested last night, so I raced Rachel out of daycare and into the car, drove all the way to zoo only to discover a sign saying "parking full" and directing me to a remote lot where we had to wait for a shuttle. After navigating her heavy stroller down a hill (Drew had already gotten to the zoo and miraculously found a parking spot in the main lot. Residual Parking Goddess magic?). And after I got Rachel's stroller down the hill there was a ginormous line to wait for the shuttle. AND it was cold, AND Rachel had just woken up from a nap, and the diaper bag was killing my back and she hadn't eaten dinner...and I thought of skipping the whole thing.
But you know what? I stuck with it, standing on line because I told myself that sometimes you just have to suck it up in life, and it turned out Okay. Rachel started sobbing when I stood her next to her stroller but cheered up immensely after she realized she was on a BUS (and a yellow SCHOOL BUS, at that; we could've skipped the light show and just stayed on the bus the whole time, I'm sure) and stopped crying immediately. Drew was waiting for us at the shuttle stop and had gotten through the long line of ticket buyers to buy us tickets.
And when we went in, we saw a fairyland! Not a single religious display, but lots and lots and lots and lots of lights on trees, bushes, coffee stands (decorated to look like gingerbread houses), buildings, etc. And the best part was we got to ride the Zoo Train! It's a 15-minute train ride throughout the zoo and all the outdoor habitat areas were encased in lights representing animals (tigers in the tiger area, kangaroos in the marsupial areas, etc.). Some of the displays were moving, like the one that had gazelles jumping over a hump or ants marching in line. Rachel sat on Drew's lap and just took it all in. Before we boarded the train she wanted to touch every single light she encountered, and during the train ride I swear I could see the glow of the lights reflected in her little face. "I rode a train, Jennifer!" she said, practicing telling her daycare teacher about the experience.
We got her home way too late -- she wasn't in bed until 10:30 -- and except for half a granola bar that I offered her, she never ended up having dinner.
But it was so worth it.
So I asked Drew whether he wanted to see Zoolights last night or tonight. "Zoolights" is a beautiful light display at the Oregon Zoo up in Portland, and I was dying to take Rachel to it because I thought she'd really get something out of it. But it was late, and I was tired, and I was hoping Drew would say tonight instead of last night.
But he suggested last night, so I raced Rachel out of daycare and into the car, drove all the way to zoo only to discover a sign saying "parking full" and directing me to a remote lot where we had to wait for a shuttle. After navigating her heavy stroller down a hill (Drew had already gotten to the zoo and miraculously found a parking spot in the main lot. Residual Parking Goddess magic?). And after I got Rachel's stroller down the hill there was a ginormous line to wait for the shuttle. AND it was cold, AND Rachel had just woken up from a nap, and the diaper bag was killing my back and she hadn't eaten dinner...and I thought of skipping the whole thing.
But you know what? I stuck with it, standing on line because I told myself that sometimes you just have to suck it up in life, and it turned out Okay. Rachel started sobbing when I stood her next to her stroller but cheered up immensely after she realized she was on a BUS (and a yellow SCHOOL BUS, at that; we could've skipped the light show and just stayed on the bus the whole time, I'm sure) and stopped crying immediately. Drew was waiting for us at the shuttle stop and had gotten through the long line of ticket buyers to buy us tickets.
And when we went in, we saw a fairyland! Not a single religious display, but lots and lots and lots and lots of lights on trees, bushes, coffee stands (decorated to look like gingerbread houses), buildings, etc. And the best part was we got to ride the Zoo Train! It's a 15-minute train ride throughout the zoo and all the outdoor habitat areas were encased in lights representing animals (tigers in the tiger area, kangaroos in the marsupial areas, etc.). Some of the displays were moving, like the one that had gazelles jumping over a hump or ants marching in line. Rachel sat on Drew's lap and just took it all in. Before we boarded the train she wanted to touch every single light she encountered, and during the train ride I swear I could see the glow of the lights reflected in her little face. "I rode a train, Jennifer!" she said, practicing telling her daycare teacher about the experience.
We got her home way too late -- she wasn't in bed until 10:30 -- and except for half a granola bar that I offered her, she never ended up having dinner.
But it was so worth it.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
A morning in the life
It occurred to me this morning that I spend a lot of blog posts writing about little snippets of Rachel's day without giving all of you a true picture of what it's truly like. So, here is a sampling of a typical weekday:
I wake up, usually on time to get us out of the house by 8.
I lie in bed thinking about how my life has changed from a year ago.
I get up, turn on my Smartphone and check for messages, make the bed, load the car -- with my work bag, my purse, Rachel's lunch, my yogurt and granola, and turn on the water for tea.
I shower, put makeup on, rescue the screaming teakettle, pour the tea into my "Willamette University" mug, get dressed, take out the coat I'm going to wear that day, then wake Rachel up.
Rachel is often cheerful in the morning but sometimes grumbly. Today she said, "I want to stay in my bed." I was very sympathetic. "I want to stay in my bed, too, sweetie, but Mommy needs to go to work, and you need to go to school," I said firmly.
We cuddle in the glider and then Rachel always insists on "one BOOK." So, I read whatever she wants. Then she wants to cuddle. And cuddle. And cuddle. And eventually I have to put a stop to it, which I hate.
I swing her from side to side and she laughs like a maniac. Then I put her on the changing table and let her choose what she wants to wear that day. Sometimes the clothes (always pants and a shirt) vaguely match. Most of the time they don't.
Then I put her on the floor and tell her to choose socks and shoes. She has a knack for choosing socks that have nothing to do with what she's wearing. I think briefly of explaining to the folks at daycare that I don't have as bad taste as they may think I do. Then I reject that idea.
Rachel insists on doing a headstand in my lap. "Rachel, NO!" I say despairingly, but we HAVE to do this every morning. It's part of the routine. The world would end if we didn't.
I ask her to give me her pacifiers (she routinely keeps two with her, just in case her stuffed animals decide to hide one of them).
She hands them over and I stuff them in the clothes basket.
We go into the kitchen and she tells me to wear the pink raincoat I bought from L.L. Bean a few weeks ago because I desperately needed a full-length raincoat. "Because it's my favorite," she explains seriously, so I always wear it. Even if it looks like a Caribbean morning outside. The coat is her FAVORITE. Pretty soon she'll think my clothes are hopelessly out of date, so I need to seize this moment.
I ask her if she wants milk in the purple cup or green cup. She fakes me out and announces she wants milk in the pink cup.
I ask her if she wants Cheerios or Raisin Bran. She says Wheaties. I say we have none. She cheerfully says Raisin Bran.
I load her up in the car, hand her her bag of cereal, her tiny stuffed bunny and a book or two. It's now 30 minutes later than when I wanted to leave.
We head south on I-5. At the point that we enter the freeway, the sun (if it's sunny that day), shines right in Rachel's eye. "The sun is peeking over my EYE!" she announces delightedly. "Why IS that?"
I give whatever explanation pops into my head: The angle of the sun and the low buildings mean the sun hits her eyes and Mommy's, too.
Then she asks me to sing the Fire Truck Song, or the Changes Song (Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A'Changin') or the Follow Song ("Try To Remember" from the musical The Fantasticks; the lyrics contain the words "so follow, follow follow follow follow follow follow...) and I tell her to wait until Mommy has finished her yogurt and granola and tea.
And then it's singing and talking (her observing, me commenting) all the way to Salem.
I wake up, usually on time to get us out of the house by 8.
I lie in bed thinking about how my life has changed from a year ago.
I get up, turn on my Smartphone and check for messages, make the bed, load the car -- with my work bag, my purse, Rachel's lunch, my yogurt and granola, and turn on the water for tea.
I shower, put makeup on, rescue the screaming teakettle, pour the tea into my "Willamette University" mug, get dressed, take out the coat I'm going to wear that day, then wake Rachel up.
Rachel is often cheerful in the morning but sometimes grumbly. Today she said, "I want to stay in my bed." I was very sympathetic. "I want to stay in my bed, too, sweetie, but Mommy needs to go to work, and you need to go to school," I said firmly.
We cuddle in the glider and then Rachel always insists on "one BOOK." So, I read whatever she wants. Then she wants to cuddle. And cuddle. And cuddle. And eventually I have to put a stop to it, which I hate.
I swing her from side to side and she laughs like a maniac. Then I put her on the changing table and let her choose what she wants to wear that day. Sometimes the clothes (always pants and a shirt) vaguely match. Most of the time they don't.
Then I put her on the floor and tell her to choose socks and shoes. She has a knack for choosing socks that have nothing to do with what she's wearing. I think briefly of explaining to the folks at daycare that I don't have as bad taste as they may think I do. Then I reject that idea.
Rachel insists on doing a headstand in my lap. "Rachel, NO!" I say despairingly, but we HAVE to do this every morning. It's part of the routine. The world would end if we didn't.
I ask her to give me her pacifiers (she routinely keeps two with her, just in case her stuffed animals decide to hide one of them).
She hands them over and I stuff them in the clothes basket.
We go into the kitchen and she tells me to wear the pink raincoat I bought from L.L. Bean a few weeks ago because I desperately needed a full-length raincoat. "Because it's my favorite," she explains seriously, so I always wear it. Even if it looks like a Caribbean morning outside. The coat is her FAVORITE. Pretty soon she'll think my clothes are hopelessly out of date, so I need to seize this moment.
I ask her if she wants milk in the purple cup or green cup. She fakes me out and announces she wants milk in the pink cup.
I ask her if she wants Cheerios or Raisin Bran. She says Wheaties. I say we have none. She cheerfully says Raisin Bran.
I load her up in the car, hand her her bag of cereal, her tiny stuffed bunny and a book or two. It's now 30 minutes later than when I wanted to leave.
We head south on I-5. At the point that we enter the freeway, the sun (if it's sunny that day), shines right in Rachel's eye. "The sun is peeking over my EYE!" she announces delightedly. "Why IS that?"
I give whatever explanation pops into my head: The angle of the sun and the low buildings mean the sun hits her eyes and Mommy's, too.
Then she asks me to sing the Fire Truck Song, or the Changes Song (Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A'Changin') or the Follow Song ("Try To Remember" from the musical The Fantasticks; the lyrics contain the words "so follow, follow follow follow follow follow follow...) and I tell her to wait until Mommy has finished her yogurt and granola and tea.
And then it's singing and talking (her observing, me commenting) all the way to Salem.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Wonderful weekend
This weekend was a reminder of why I feel so lucky -- even though I'm no longer a newspaper writer and I'm earning less than I did even 7 months ago and my husband is away and sometimes I'm too tired to play with Rachel, which hurts me greatly.
Anyway. I'm lucky.
On Saturday we went to grocery store and spent much more than I thought we would -- it's the diapers and wipes that are killing us, folks. Rachel, could you please indicate a little more, um, active interest in using the potty? Thank you.
We got a late start (because we were tumbling on the rug in her room and I kept tickling her and then she tickled me and then I tickled her and then she climbed all over me and I was defeated) and got back just before we were scheduled to meet Doug and Linda and Jack and Andrew for a play and dinner and Christmas lights afterward. Result: The Little Girl skipped her nap entirely.
But she really liked the play, an hourlong production of Hansel and Gretel that was really more teen and adult-focused; the jokes ranged from WikiLeaks to Sarah Palin -- but Rachel was SO impressive! She laughed when the audience laughed and clapped when they did, and spent half the time sitting on my lap and the other half sitting in a seat next to me, clearly entranced by the live theater occurring in front of her. It was a lot of fun to watch, and I told Drew this morning that she may be ready for kids' theater (as long as it's not longer than an hour). Can't WAIT to start taking her to shows!!
We all trooped to a Thai restaurant for dinner, where Rachel refused to touch anything except jarred baby food (and, parenthetically, I am getting REALLY tired of lugging around her own rations, I feel like a newly arrived immigrant). It was cold and windy when we finished and I almost said no to Christmas lights at the Grotto, a religious display and chapel where my chorus has sung in past years, but finally figured, what the heck -- I should stop worrying about Rachel catching cold and just GO. And it was totally worth it! Lovely singing in the chapel (for which Rachel was wonderfully well-behaved; she figured out on her own that if she wanted to rummage through the diaper bag she needed to whisper her request) and gorgeous lights.
The next day our friend Amy came over with her boy Tony -- who Rachel adores -- and they had a great time. At one point Tony graciously took Rachel upstairs and they played while Amy and I actually had A GROWNUP CONVERSATION. After they left, I discovered that Tony had picked Rachel up and put her on the couch in the attic (I had asked her to rehearse beforehand: "Please, Tony, pick me up") and Tony left two "secret letters" for us on the blackboard: "Thank you" and "I love Rachle." Oh, wouldn't it be fantastic if they go to the prom together??
Then last night we headed over to my friend Miriam's house. Miriam used to live in the suburbs but now lives only 10 blocks away, near Grant Park, and we are already making plans to picnic there this summer during one of Portland Parks' free Concert in the Park series. My friend Deni, who is a grandmother but looks 10 years younger, was also there and both made a fuss over Rachel. We toured the fabulous house, which has been extensively renovated, and then sat down to dinner that all of us had contributed to. And all I can say is that Rachel was so self-possessed! She didn't keep interrupting me, she just ate her baby food (again), as well as some chocolate cake I gave her for dessert (and chocolate candy; yes, it was a very un-nutritional meal) but her face looked so cute smeared with chocolate that I couldn't resist. We all managed to have a fantastic talk until Rachel interrupted me: "Mommy, please change my diaper." I'd been having such a good time that I didn't even notice she'd pooped! Then a few minutes later she said, "Mommy, I want to go home." She had been so patient throughout all the grownup talk that I said sure (and it was way past her bedtime anyway), bundled her up and drove home. I got her down by 10.
And then I spent 20 minutes just sitting at the kitchen table, smiling, savoring the great weekend I'd had. I hope there are many more like these in our future!
Anyway. I'm lucky.
On Saturday we went to grocery store and spent much more than I thought we would -- it's the diapers and wipes that are killing us, folks. Rachel, could you please indicate a little more, um, active interest in using the potty? Thank you.
We got a late start (because we were tumbling on the rug in her room and I kept tickling her and then she tickled me and then I tickled her and then she climbed all over me and I was defeated) and got back just before we were scheduled to meet Doug and Linda and Jack and Andrew for a play and dinner and Christmas lights afterward. Result: The Little Girl skipped her nap entirely.
But she really liked the play, an hourlong production of Hansel and Gretel that was really more teen and adult-focused; the jokes ranged from WikiLeaks to Sarah Palin -- but Rachel was SO impressive! She laughed when the audience laughed and clapped when they did, and spent half the time sitting on my lap and the other half sitting in a seat next to me, clearly entranced by the live theater occurring in front of her. It was a lot of fun to watch, and I told Drew this morning that she may be ready for kids' theater (as long as it's not longer than an hour). Can't WAIT to start taking her to shows!!
We all trooped to a Thai restaurant for dinner, where Rachel refused to touch anything except jarred baby food (and, parenthetically, I am getting REALLY tired of lugging around her own rations, I feel like a newly arrived immigrant). It was cold and windy when we finished and I almost said no to Christmas lights at the Grotto, a religious display and chapel where my chorus has sung in past years, but finally figured, what the heck -- I should stop worrying about Rachel catching cold and just GO. And it was totally worth it! Lovely singing in the chapel (for which Rachel was wonderfully well-behaved; she figured out on her own that if she wanted to rummage through the diaper bag she needed to whisper her request) and gorgeous lights.
The next day our friend Amy came over with her boy Tony -- who Rachel adores -- and they had a great time. At one point Tony graciously took Rachel upstairs and they played while Amy and I actually had A GROWNUP CONVERSATION. After they left, I discovered that Tony had picked Rachel up and put her on the couch in the attic (I had asked her to rehearse beforehand: "Please, Tony, pick me up") and Tony left two "secret letters" for us on the blackboard: "Thank you" and "I love Rachle." Oh, wouldn't it be fantastic if they go to the prom together??
Then last night we headed over to my friend Miriam's house. Miriam used to live in the suburbs but now lives only 10 blocks away, near Grant Park, and we are already making plans to picnic there this summer during one of Portland Parks' free Concert in the Park series. My friend Deni, who is a grandmother but looks 10 years younger, was also there and both made a fuss over Rachel. We toured the fabulous house, which has been extensively renovated, and then sat down to dinner that all of us had contributed to. And all I can say is that Rachel was so self-possessed! She didn't keep interrupting me, she just ate her baby food (again), as well as some chocolate cake I gave her for dessert (and chocolate candy; yes, it was a very un-nutritional meal) but her face looked so cute smeared with chocolate that I couldn't resist. We all managed to have a fantastic talk until Rachel interrupted me: "Mommy, please change my diaper." I'd been having such a good time that I didn't even notice she'd pooped! Then a few minutes later she said, "Mommy, I want to go home." She had been so patient throughout all the grownup talk that I said sure (and it was way past her bedtime anyway), bundled her up and drove home. I got her down by 10.
And then I spent 20 minutes just sitting at the kitchen table, smiling, savoring the great weekend I'd had. I hope there are many more like these in our future!
She gave the applesauce a timeout
Rachel was frustrated yesterday at snacktime because her cup of applesauce kept slipping out of her little hands when she tried to close it.
"I give a timeout!" she said.
"Um, Rachel, did you just give your applesauce a TIMEOUT?" I asked, trying not to laugh. Too hard.
"It falling!" she said.
Then this morning she started yelling at Maisy, the mouse who makes gingerbread cookies. Usually she loves this book, but this morning she kept yelling at it. "No NO, Maisy!" she scolded.
I never did figure out what Maisy did wrong, but I bet Rachel gave her a timeout, too!
"I give a timeout!" she said.
"Um, Rachel, did you just give your applesauce a TIMEOUT?" I asked, trying not to laugh. Too hard.
"It falling!" she said.
Then this morning she started yelling at Maisy, the mouse who makes gingerbread cookies. Usually she loves this book, but this morning she kept yelling at it. "No NO, Maisy!" she scolded.
I never did figure out what Maisy did wrong, but I bet Rachel gave her a timeout, too!
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