Years ago when Rachel was still a toddler, I tried to impress upon her the idea that quitting is a bad thing. She was trying, as I recall, to walk on a thin piece of metal a foot or so off the ground, a kind of balance beam that was part of a play structure, and was scared she wouldn't make it. I urged her to keep trying. "Don't QUIT!" I said sternly. "There are no quitters in this family! This is a no-quit family!"
(At the time I was probably thinking about my departure from The Oregonian, which I don't need to recount here).
She has alluded to our "no-quit" family once or twice since then, but not often. But today, as she was doing a difficult maneuver on the play structure at McKinley and I tried to help her, she said again: "No! I'm not going to quit! This is a no-quitter family!" (She ended up doing the maneuver correctly with a little help from Mommy).
She said the same thing again as she tried to climb a tree that was too small and clearly not meant to be climbed. I gently explained to her that sometimes it just isn't a good idea to do something and that if you decide not to do it, that isn't quitting.
She didn't seem convinced, alas. We later found a more suitable tree for her to climb, and when she tried to maneuver around the branches she actually got scared (she was wearing some sequined boots Drew got her and they were hard to fit between the branches), so she let me lift her down.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Magic reading place
For the past two days it has been very springlike here, and when I pick Rachel up from school she wants me to play with her on the McKinley playground. Yesterday it was difficult; I was in work clothes (I had gone into The Boston Globe's D.C. bureau to attend a weekly planning meeting and work on a story) and so I didn't want to clamber around in my work shoes and pants in the mud and dead branches (although my work shoes really need replacing, sigh). We settled on finding a tree stump half-hidden by surrounding trees, which we decided was an excellent place to read "The Magic Treehouse," a series that PopPop and Mammaw gave Rachel and is filled with GREAT stories.
It was so lovely sitting on the stump and reading to my daughter; I can see many summer days where we'll be doing the same thing, until she's old enough to read to herself.
Today I wore sneakers; she pointed at them and said, "Good!" We ended up doing an "obstacle course" on the play structure, playing hide-and-go seek, and she showed me all the cool things she can do on the monkey bars, etc. Playtime stretched until 7, when I insisted we go home.
On the way back we stopped at the neighborhood tree swing and met up with Ivy, Izzie and another little girl. Ivy suggested that Rachel not try the same way of swinging as the other girls because she's too little, but Rachel tried it anyway and succeeded -- I gave her a big wink, I was so proud -- and then the older girls proceeded to take a thick rope and (with Rachel's help) tied my legs together. Luckily the knot wasn't that tight. They had a great time over my protests.
Finally, to the background of a beautiful sunset, Rachel and I walked home together.
It was so lovely sitting on the stump and reading to my daughter; I can see many summer days where we'll be doing the same thing, until she's old enough to read to herself.
Today I wore sneakers; she pointed at them and said, "Good!" We ended up doing an "obstacle course" on the play structure, playing hide-and-go seek, and she showed me all the cool things she can do on the monkey bars, etc. Playtime stretched until 7, when I insisted we go home.
On the way back we stopped at the neighborhood tree swing and met up with Ivy, Izzie and another little girl. Ivy suggested that Rachel not try the same way of swinging as the other girls because she's too little, but Rachel tried it anyway and succeeded -- I gave her a big wink, I was so proud -- and then the older girls proceeded to take a thick rope and (with Rachel's help) tied my legs together. Luckily the knot wasn't that tight. They had a great time over my protests.
Finally, to the background of a beautiful sunset, Rachel and I walked home together.
Why we think Rachel is one of a kind
Drew sometimes brings home treats from work that are left over from a meeting or presentation. Today it was a brownie that looked delicious. He put it on Rachel's plate for dessert.
"Any more?" I said hopefully.
"No, this was the last one, so I brought it home for my little girl," he said. "They went fast."
And then Rachel did the most extraordinary thing. She gave me a taste of the brownie (truthfully it wasn't very good), looked down at it sadly, took a deep breath and said, "This is very hard," and then WALKED IT OVER TO MY PLACE AND GAVE IT TO ME.
"NO!" I protested. "It's for you!"
She insisted on giving it to me, even when I told her I was too full from the steak Drew had grilled tonight (it was quite warm outside, so he fired up the grill) and the potatoes and salad I'd eaten. But she wouldn't hear of it, even when both of us insisted she eat it.
Drew finally suggested Rachel and I split the brownie, but even THAT didn't work. He and I agreed in the kitchen that we'd save the whole thing for her tomorrow.
When she went to bed tonight, I said: "Rachel, I am so proud of you. You have such a generous heart and a generous spirit."
"Thanks, Mom," she said gratefully, and then went up to bed.
"Any more?" I said hopefully.
"No, this was the last one, so I brought it home for my little girl," he said. "They went fast."
And then Rachel did the most extraordinary thing. She gave me a taste of the brownie (truthfully it wasn't very good), looked down at it sadly, took a deep breath and said, "This is very hard," and then WALKED IT OVER TO MY PLACE AND GAVE IT TO ME.
"NO!" I protested. "It's for you!"
She insisted on giving it to me, even when I told her I was too full from the steak Drew had grilled tonight (it was quite warm outside, so he fired up the grill) and the potatoes and salad I'd eaten. But she wouldn't hear of it, even when both of us insisted she eat it.
Drew finally suggested Rachel and I split the brownie, but even THAT didn't work. He and I agreed in the kitchen that we'd save the whole thing for her tomorrow.
When she went to bed tonight, I said: "Rachel, I am so proud of you. You have such a generous heart and a generous spirit."
"Thanks, Mom," she said gratefully, and then went up to bed.
Stomachaches
Lately Rachel has been complaining of stomachaches; they hit her at unexpected moments, like when she's playing at Ivy's house, or about to eat dinner, or when I pick her up from school. This weekend I sat her down at the dining room table after I insisted that she eat a late lunch/snack, and asked her carefully, "Is anything worrying you?" (kid's stomachaches are often a sign of stress).
"No," she answered, and I knew she was telling the truth.
"Are you upset about something?" I persisted.
"No," she said.
Last night she got a fearsome one while she was in the midst of EATING dinner. It got so bad that she lay down on the couch and started crying in pain. I lay down next to her, cuddled her in my arms and we both fell asleep. Drew finally carried her upstairs, read a book to her and put her to sleep.
He was browsing through the Dr. Spock book and saw that kid stomachaches can be a sign of them growing, which means they're hungry, which means we should be feeding Rachel more food. So this morning he packed an extra banana and yogurt pretzels for a late afternoon snack. She ate them up, along with her lunch, and she devoured half her steak and some challah for dessert. And no more complaints about stomachaches!
I felt like such an idiot for not realizing she needed more food.
"No," she answered, and I knew she was telling the truth.
"Are you upset about something?" I persisted.
"No," she said.
Last night she got a fearsome one while she was in the midst of EATING dinner. It got so bad that she lay down on the couch and started crying in pain. I lay down next to her, cuddled her in my arms and we both fell asleep. Drew finally carried her upstairs, read a book to her and put her to sleep.
He was browsing through the Dr. Spock book and saw that kid stomachaches can be a sign of them growing, which means they're hungry, which means we should be feeding Rachel more food. So this morning he packed an extra banana and yogurt pretzels for a late afternoon snack. She ate them up, along with her lunch, and she devoured half her steak and some challah for dessert. And no more complaints about stomachaches!
I felt like such an idiot for not realizing she needed more food.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
How people react to Rachel
This past week was a crazy one -- two snow days (Monday and Tuesday snow related school closures because we got a LOT of snow), then two days at the end of the week where school was canceled because of parent/teacher conferences. So, the upshot was that Rachel attended exactly one day of school last week.
I'm starting to call snow days "Mandatory home-schooling days," the brilliant term that my friend Molly in Minnesota, a single mom of three kids for whom snow days and other school-related closures are a real problem, coined.
We signed Rachel up for one day of Lola's Lab, a very cool art camp that operates even when school is closed, for reasons that are mysterious to be but VERY WELCOME. Anyway, I was out of town Friday morning and Drew needed to get to work earlier than usual so he asked Lola (the artist mom who founded and operates the camp) if he could bring Rachel in to the Friday camp, too.
Her response:
HI Drew,
Thanks for sending us Rachel again, she is the BEST! We are totally crazy over her. She made me the most beautiful portrait on Tuesday too.
It's true, Rachel had drawn a portrait of Lola's head, which she was thrilled to receive.
***
Today, Sunday, Drew took Rachel to the farmer's market and to get donuts while I spent time preparing for a story I'm going to write this week.
Rachel charmed everyone at the farmer's market, skipping from one booth to the next, and people kept giving her samples of things, like jam on crackers and dips of honey. On the way back to the car, Drew asked her, "Were you charming everyone at the farmer's market?"
"Yeah," she replied nonchalantly. "It's my job."
I'm starting to call snow days "Mandatory home-schooling days," the brilliant term that my friend Molly in Minnesota, a single mom of three kids for whom snow days and other school-related closures are a real problem, coined.
We signed Rachel up for one day of Lola's Lab, a very cool art camp that operates even when school is closed, for reasons that are mysterious to be but VERY WELCOME. Anyway, I was out of town Friday morning and Drew needed to get to work earlier than usual so he asked Lola (the artist mom who founded and operates the camp) if he could bring Rachel in to the Friday camp, too.
Her response:
HI Drew,
Thanks for sending us Rachel again, she is the BEST! We are totally crazy over her. She made me the most beautiful portrait on Tuesday too.
It's true, Rachel had drawn a portrait of Lola's head, which she was thrilled to receive.
***
Today, Sunday, Drew took Rachel to the farmer's market and to get donuts while I spent time preparing for a story I'm going to write this week.
Rachel charmed everyone at the farmer's market, skipping from one booth to the next, and people kept giving her samples of things, like jam on crackers and dips of honey. On the way back to the car, Drew asked her, "Were you charming everyone at the farmer's market?"
"Yeah," she replied nonchalantly. "It's my job."
What Rachel thinks of Daddy
Drew casually mentioned at dinner this past Friday night that he'd been interviewed by The Hill newspaper and El Pais (the largest newspaper in Spain) for a post he wrote for Pew about Congressional productivity. I told him how impressed I was.
Rachel's reaction? "You are so LUCKY!" she exclaimed. "I wish I could be YOU!"
Rachel's reaction? "You are so LUCKY!" she exclaimed. "I wish I could be YOU!"
Rachel the storyteller
Drew was away for a few days at a conference in Baltimore at the end of February/beginning of March. On the Friday he was gone, Rachel wanted me to tell her a story at dinner. No, I said. (I was tired and cranky). Please, she pleaded. NO, I said; how about I start a story, you add to it, then I add to it, etc. We started on that path, but then Rachel politely asked if she could stop and then proceeded to tell me a made-up story of her own.
What was most impressive was that she grabbed some "props" as she called them (knickknacks from around the living and dining rooms) and proceeded to tell me an incredible made-up tale. Here it is:
"Once upon a time there lived a cheetah named Emma. (holds up a wooden cheetah she had asked me to take out of a bookcase). One day she was strolling around and met her friend ZEBRA! (holds up a wooden zebra she'd taken from a bookcase in the living room). So Emma said, "Zebra, why are you here?" And zebra said, "I came to see if you would go with me to find a treasure!"
"By the way," Rachel told me. "Did I tell you the story was in Africa?"
She continued:
"Then they met their friend Camel. (holds up a wooden camel)."
"Oh," she said. "And the moral of the story is, teamwork is important."
She continued again:
"So she said, "Yes, of course, so they started strolling round and looking for treasure and they met their friends Camel. Emma said, "What are you doing? I thought you were supposed to be in a very different part of Africa where your owner is." But Camel said, "The owner fell off." So Emma said, "Well, do you wanna join the team to try and find your treasure?" And Zebra said, "Sure." So they set off. So as they strolled, they saw a pyramid (takes the pyramid from a bookcase in the living room)." They pyramid just popped up in front of them with two birds beside the sides (takes two ceramic birds from a bookcase in the living room.) "The birds said, "Can we work with you?" and they said, "Of course you can!" So the birds flew around. Before they left they pushed the pyramid away and they finally saw the treasure. (takes a glass bird from a bookcase). "So they said, "HI. We were wondering if anyone had gone to hunt for the treasure." It was a beautiful crystal bird inside a little crystal cup (takes a set of Russian nesting girl dolls from the bookcase). For a minute all of them wished they were one of the little girls. Then the Zebra spoke. "That is very pretty of you," she said. Then the oldest tzedakah doll (Rachel calls them Tzedakah dolls instead of nesting dolls, for some reason) said, "We made them ourselves." "You did?" said one of the birds. "Yes!" squeaked one of the birds." "What did you help with?" asked Emma. "I helped pick out the design," she said in a squeaky voice. "They had made their way through all of Africa. "Can we lift the bird up?" said Emma. "Sure," the tzedakah doll said. "Then they noticed there's only five tzedakah dolls. The bird was still on. Emma lifted it up. "Peek a boo!" said the tezedakah dolls. Then all of the tzedakah dolls came out. Then Emma put the bird back on top. Then they turned back. "We better get back," they said. "So the tzedakah dolls said goodbye. And then they turned and walked back to their homes."
I was so impressed that I told Rachel, "You know, maybe YOU should be telling stories to 3 and 4-year-olds." She seemed very pleased at that suggestion.
What was most impressive was that she grabbed some "props" as she called them (knickknacks from around the living and dining rooms) and proceeded to tell me an incredible made-up tale. Here it is:
"Once upon a time there lived a cheetah named Emma. (holds up a wooden cheetah she had asked me to take out of a bookcase). One day she was strolling around and met her friend ZEBRA! (holds up a wooden zebra she'd taken from a bookcase in the living room). So Emma said, "Zebra, why are you here?" And zebra said, "I came to see if you would go with me to find a treasure!"
"By the way," Rachel told me. "Did I tell you the story was in Africa?"
She continued:
"Then they met their friend Camel. (holds up a wooden camel)."
"Oh," she said. "And the moral of the story is, teamwork is important."
She continued again:
"So she said, "Yes, of course, so they started strolling round and looking for treasure and they met their friends Camel. Emma said, "What are you doing? I thought you were supposed to be in a very different part of Africa where your owner is." But Camel said, "The owner fell off." So Emma said, "Well, do you wanna join the team to try and find your treasure?" And Zebra said, "Sure." So they set off. So as they strolled, they saw a pyramid (takes the pyramid from a bookcase in the living room)." They pyramid just popped up in front of them with two birds beside the sides (takes two ceramic birds from a bookcase in the living room.) "The birds said, "Can we work with you?" and they said, "Of course you can!" So the birds flew around. Before they left they pushed the pyramid away and they finally saw the treasure. (takes a glass bird from a bookcase). "So they said, "HI. We were wondering if anyone had gone to hunt for the treasure." It was a beautiful crystal bird inside a little crystal cup (takes a set of Russian nesting girl dolls from the bookcase). For a minute all of them wished they were one of the little girls. Then the Zebra spoke. "That is very pretty of you," she said. Then the oldest tzedakah doll (Rachel calls them Tzedakah dolls instead of nesting dolls, for some reason) said, "We made them ourselves." "You did?" said one of the birds. "Yes!" squeaked one of the birds." "What did you help with?" asked Emma. "I helped pick out the design," she said in a squeaky voice. "They had made their way through all of Africa. "Can we lift the bird up?" said Emma. "Sure," the tzedakah doll said. "Then they noticed there's only five tzedakah dolls. The bird was still on. Emma lifted it up. "Peek a boo!" said the tezedakah dolls. Then all of the tzedakah dolls came out. Then Emma put the bird back on top. Then they turned back. "We better get back," they said. "So the tzedakah dolls said goodbye. And then they turned and walked back to their homes."
I was so impressed that I told Rachel, "You know, maybe YOU should be telling stories to 3 and 4-year-olds." She seemed very pleased at that suggestion.
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