Somedays you are up, somedays you are in a hell of your own making

Dear Sava,

We're experiencing an interesting salty-sweet time this summer. This is a little bit of a rant because I'm just about out of patience.

Since losing my job at Rosetta Stone, I've been home taking care of you and trying to give you the best summer of your life. We arranged a summer camp with 4 other families to allow you to spend every day with friends; we signed you up for climbing camp because you love to climb; we've traveled a ton (California camping on the river and at the cabin, monthly trips to southern Colorado for camping and hot springs, and daily excursions into the wilderness on hikes, swimming trips, rock finding trips...); and we've done a lot of local exploring.

Most days you are incredibly shiny and excited for life. You sometimes help us with cleaning the house, you have really taken to making art with your mommy, and you love to sing songs, esp. Magnetic Fields tunes. I find myself often overwhelmed by love for you and I can't help squeezing you and kissing your beautiful little face with my scratchy beard.

But goddamn if there isn't another side I wish we could leave behind. Sometimes you never stop asking for things. You need all eyes on you every single moment of the day, without which you spiral out into repeating yourself endlessly. You want to show us your trick swinging a string. You want me to give you juice. You want ice cream. You really want a puppy. You want the windows up/down. You want your song on the radio. You want me to hand you your stuffed kitty. You want me to watch you twirl. You want a playdate with a friend. You want to swim, play, watch a movie, eat, build something, catch butterflies.... Basically, you've discovered life and all of its glory and you want to be totally immersed and present.

Yes! Great! Life!

But no. No no no. Without these things you are not pleasant to be around. Let me give you an example. I drove you and your mommy all the way to the goat farm 3 hours from home so she could meet the baby goats you absolutely could not stop talking about. We got in on a tour that allowed you to actually milk a goat, and we got goat cheese ice cream, which you love. But when you realized you couldn't take a goat home with you (not sure how you got that idea) you were a tyrant, trying to hit your mother and wailing at the top of your lungs, screaming and crying while we forced you into the car to get ourselves far away from the farm. If there is even a hint about something special, such as a little treat, you'll talk about it without stopping for hours and hours and hours, begging and whining until we are forced to throw the thing away.

Somehow you got it into your head you could eat nothing but sweets, you could buy anything in any store we walk into, you are allowed to pester us endlessly for whatever happens to pass through your mind, and we are simply here to ensure you are, at every moment, to be 110% entertained by us. You refuse to eat lunch--you now have a very limited range of food you'll actually eat since giving up on bread, meat, vegetables, and just about anything else I place in front of you--and then scream and cry and writhe on the ground in hysterics 30 minutes later because you are hungry. You ask for gum a good 75 times a day. And, if I give you gum, you get it stuck in your hair or drop it into the car seats. You are careless and destructive. You cry and cry and cry asking for balloons, stuffed animals, stickers, rocks, whatever. If we give you what you want, you will destroy it almost immediately. You rip books, tear up drawings, break games and devices, pull apart necklaces, crack stones, dunk feathers in milk...there is almost no end to your destructive side.

Often you destroy without even knowing you were going to do so, and it's this quality that often has me on edge. You insist on being in control. For instance, you want to carry your own drink - even though it almost always ends in disaster. You can pester me all morning for ice cream, for instance, and decide you will help out around the house in order to get your prize, but once you have the ice cream cone in hand, it could take 4 seconds for you to drop it or, more likely, say something snotty--"This is MY ice cream and I'm not sharing with anybody!"--and turn away only to fall on your face. Today, after I asked you not to run outside the restaurant, you ran and fell hard, bloodying your knees badly and screaming and wailing in front of the restaurant so that we had no choice but get everything packed up while I apologized to others trying to eat, and load you into the car where you reverted to sucking your thumb again.

Regression. Seriously. The moment we get beyond one issue like sucking your thumb it springs back with several friends. Once it was sucking your thumb, now it's drooling on yourself, blowing spit bubbles, sucking your thumb, licking your hands, eating gum off the bus floor...

I hate to say it, but put it all together and it doesn't paint the most rosy picture. A 5 year old beautiful, beautiful girl with such an incredibly complex mind acting snotty, destroying whatever it was she only just received while simultaneously whining for something intangible (like a horse or a puppy), refusing to eat and crying you are hungry, lashing out at us for something you yourself probably caused (like throwing something you wanted out the window of the car only to have it blow off a cliff), and, often during those times of extreme snottiness in which you plug your ears with your fingers to not listen to our advice, falling on your face because you refused to heed the warning, then using this as a reason for reverting to thumb sucking.

If I were to look at all of this I would say you were obviously living under a great deal of stress, but our life is anything but. There is stress, but 90% of it you cause yourself. Typically, we wake to a beautiful day, eat breakfast, go for a hike, visit the creek, swim in our saltwater swimming pool, play with your lovies, watch movies, and read lots of books.

We are hoping--as are other parents we know--that kindergarten and a baby brother will help straighten things out a little. I am griping right now, but I believe you have the capacity to pull through. You are incredible, kindergarten will show you the way and help us all in the process.

Love
Daddy

Mind the Gap

Dear Sava,

There are so many good things to say about you and your growth over these past two years, but it's hard to find the time to sit down and enter it all since you have become a little firecracker of a child.

First: You love doggies. This is for certain. You love acting like dogs, you love petting every dog that passes you on the street, you love talking about dogs, and you have upwards of 25 stuffed "lovies" that are dogs. (Some are debatably bears, but you insist they are dogs.) Some of their names: Blacka, Snow, Bagel, Rose, Slobber, Poodle, BrownWhitea, Yellow, ... I lose track, but you have a name for each of them.

Second: You love being a girl. Everything you play with is a girl. You only wear dresses, you flat out refuse to wear shorts, pants or t-shirts, and if your shoes are not pristine and beautiful, you flip your lid. Of course, since you also love me, you've decided wearing flip flops for special walks and hikes is pretty okay.

You can hike to the tops of all the local mountains, you love playing in water (hot springs, rivers, lakes), you adore bugs (catching, holding, entrapping, squishing), especially moths, and you have more energy and creativity than any child could.

But, all this beautiful and creative energy is sometimes misplaced and you can become a very difficult person as well. Here is a little hint of that side of yourself from an email I sent to your mother just a few moments ago.

"Erin,

She's been awake for 40 minutes and already I'm at the end of my tolerance. I made hersausage n eggs + apple slices and waffle breakfast. She spit the apples everywhere. She ate the waffle and refused to eat the eggs. I had to coax her into taking a couple bites by allowing her to kill a bee. She put her dishes in the sink, all but three bites of the eggs, and started asking for sweets.

I asked her to get dressed in order to take Nico on a walk in the mountains. No. I got her clothes and laid them out. She won't get dressed. I asked if I needed to start giving her little spankings to remind her to listen to me. She had an all out temper tantrum freakout session, cry-shouting for you out the windows as if she were being murdered in our house. I closed the door. Now she's laying on her closet floor naked, wailing and refusing to stand up, get dressed or come with me.

I swear, some days I just want to quit.

Ugh. "

While I'm writing this you came down, sat in my lap, asked me to read what I was writing, and kissed my face 30 times.

It's been quite a ride. I think a little brother is going to do you well.

Love Daddy

April showers bring May flowers...we hope

Sava,

Each morning you climb into bed with with us, snuggle under the covers and begin lightly kicking our backs and whispering your needs "Mommy, I need milk. Daddy, I need water and eggs and cheese and crackers. Mommy, I want watch movie. Daddy, wake up. Wake up, Daddy. Wake up. I need to pee. I want cheese and balloons...."

While there has grown a backlog of all the wonderful times, the funny quotes and situations, what seems to keep rising to the top is your utter intensity. I love you more than I've loved anything or anyone, but there are times when I want to throw you down a flight of stairs.

Today, for instance. If I were describing the simple skeleton of the day it would look something like this: breakfast, the gym, home for lunch, a nap, a housewarming party, a visit to the store, a visit to a cafe, home. Seems kind enough. But you just totally and completely worked me today. I mean, you demolished my spirits, you crushed my nerves, trampled over the carcass of my emotions and stood victorious on my whithered remains.

I don't know how to explain exactly what it is you do, but I need to begin watching the progress. For starters you never stop. There is never any downtime. You want this, you want that. You pick things up and deposit them elsewhere. You throw your stuffed animals, fight with Nico for her stuffed animal. You demand foods, cry when you receive them. You demand water once everyone is sitting, then spill it immediately. You put your hands in your food and throw it on the floor. While we're cleaning it up you demand milk. We deny the request and you throw a tantrum, during which you knock over your food. I clean it up and you get hungry again, but this time you want daddy's or mommy's food and you won't take no for an answer. You want vitamins. We give them to you, but now you want more. Etc. etc. We finally clean you up to leave the house and now you're playing hide and go seek and running when we get close with shoes, pants, your jacket. At the gym you're an angel. We get to the housewarming party and it's all about grabbing hand fulls of the common food. Chewing it, spitting it back. Climbing the stairs. Peeing on the floor. Pouring juice on your dress. Screaming and crying and kicking me until I have to remove you. At the store you run and won't come back. You try eating clothing. You cry and scream NOOOOOOO at me when I try to pick you up. I take you to a restaurant to eat, but you insist on climbing on the table and holding my keys, which you lose. You don't want to stay, you don't want to leave. I eventually carry you out and decide to pick up something to eat and go home to watch a movie with you to see if that helps. But while picking up dinner you're laughing hysterically and insist on pulling everything off the counter. You scream NO to me when I ask if you want a hug or if there is anything I can get you. Then you jump into the air and begin to run, tripping and falling onto the floor. Then it's a rage of tears and screaming and crying. Then you're demanding unreasonable things, asking to go home. But at home you're nothing short of an absolute tyrant. On and on and on.

Later I find myself drinking a lot of beers and reading websites about emotionally intense children. The thing is, I know you will change, you always do, but there is nothing I can do to keep myself from wanting to cry from the exhaustion or simply stop doing so much to please you. I feel that might be the answer, to simply not pay so much attention to you and your whims, but I don't know how to cut myself off from you because I love you so much.

It's a balancing act, and one I'm sure most parents have been through. But it's all new to me and while I've wanted to post here so many of the good and the funny things you do so that later you can reflect on them, I guess this was more important right now.

It's 10:30 and you finally went to sleep. I had to take all of the furniture out of your room and put it all into the hallway. The only things I left were your bed, your nightstand and a small chair. When I checked on you a few minutes ago I found everything dragged away from the walls and you in your bed with the chair on top of you instead of the blankets, which were on the floor.

Yes, I thought, standing there looking at you snoring away with a chair on top of you, this is my baby.

God, if there is a god, save my soul, if I have a soul.

Love one exhausted and defeated Daddy

March: assorted notes

March 16th
In the bath. You have been playing for awhile while I do the dishes. I come in to check on you and grab a plastic fish to say hi to your plastic whale swimming under the water. "Hi whale."
"Hi fish. I working."
"Oh really? What you working on?"
"I working on, a painting. See?" And we both point our submerged plastic noses at the porcelain walls of the bath.
"Oh wow. What is it a painting of?
"A boy. See it? See it, fishy?"

March 13th,
Warm Sunday. After a fun, sweet walk around the neighborhood, lying in the grass in the sun and feeding crab apples to Charlie Brown, we end up at the local creek, where Nico is happily splashing around and hunting for fish. You want to join her, very badly. After a few requests are shot down, you decide to try a different tactic. You are at the edge of the water, after throwing a bunch of rocks into the creek (plop) for Nico to catch.
"Mommy, you go home now. I stay here in, with, Diko. play in water. you go home."
"Fat chance, Sava. Nice try"  I reply.
But the sun is so warm and the water does look like so much fun to play in. If I were you, that's what i would be wanting to do too. You don't know about pollution yet. It's not your fault that you live in a dirty world. In my mind I am calculating the harm, imaging the quick bath I could draw back at home. You are in a dress with socks and shoes on, big girl underwear.  The shoes are already soaked from stomping in the mud puddles of the grass alley. You slyly look back at me, gauge the seriousness of my rebuttal, decide that I am bluffing and so you hoist your dress and inch in....'it's okay' you whisper to yourself after a grinning minute of wading in the water, dress hiked up at the waist and knees treading the glittering cool surface... "Mommy's at home right now..."

....Later that day...   Running away from me down the sidewalk in your dress after the bath, shoes and underwear discarded. I finally catch up to you, three blocks down. I am winded. I am getting over pneumonia and i am out of breath. You look up at me and you are protesting your capture, laughing..."I wanna take walk with.. my feet .....and my giny!"

-strangely, potty training is coinciding with.... late onset thumb sucking.

Saturday March 12th.. a triumphant day at the indoor pool (every saturday morning we have a date where we go to the farmers market and then the gym and after i work out and you play in the daycare, we go swimming together). You are wearing your new pink polka dot bathing suit which you picked out yourself- you are the most adorable creature that has ever been invented and you walk around to everybody pointing to your suit "Look, i picked it out..by MYSELF!!  We are swimming around and you are showing Nemo, Nemo's dad, and Dory (three floatie fishies with buggy eyes that live in the toybox at the pool) how well you can hold your nose and put your face under the water. They are so proud and astonished they splutter water everywhere and just squeal with excitement. They are really just goading you on, and you eat it up. Later, I ask, "Hey Sava, you are doing SUCH a good job putting your head under water. Do you want to jump into the water and go all the way under? I will catch you and bring you back up!" You think this is a fantastic idea and grab a hold of your nose and fearlessly plop in. I stick my arms underwater and pull you up and you are spluttering and grinning, wiping the water from your eyes. "DO that AGAIN!" (which we do, like twenty more times)

-when we play the game where we are pretending to eat you all up, chomp chomp chomp, you squiggle and laugh and then demand that we spit it out, whatever part of you we ate: her your ear, your cheek....."Spit it OUT!" and you demonstrate for us, "Spphtht".

talking to little plastic horsies, to puppets, to snapdragons. Sometimes refusing to talk to me or daddy but demanding that we hold up the thing so that she can have long conversations with it. She is in that short precious window of time where she really believes that they are alive and animated.  

march 11 Sava and I walked by a little girl downtown tonight. Sava said, "That's a little girl. She's my daughter, and I love her so much right now." Where does she get this stuff?- daddy



march 9th Sava made up the name Bug Wallace this morning for a beetle she found in the house. I was reminded of Inch Connecticut. The rest, well, I'm not sure where that came from, (Bug Wallace drinks eyelid tea and sleeps for a blink by the Salton Sea) but I like the idea of it. -daddy

March 10 I hear a thud and come into the room. You had fallen off the end of your bed and you were crying your fake cry. I comfort you for a moment, hold you and kiss you, and then you tell me to "Hold horsey, mommy."  I pick horsey up and bring it up to your face.
"Hi, horsey. Hi. Horsey. I ,  I... fell."
"awww" says horsey. "I'm sorry. How did you do it?"
"I, I climbed up, like dis" (re-enacting the perilous clamber up the wooden rails of the foot of your bed) "and, I .. fell. Hurt, my leg. Der. Kiss it?"
(horsey kisses the knee)
"Ohh, tank you, horsey. Feel, much better now!" (sniff) "Give me, kiss?"
(you bend down to kiss it on the lips)
"Hold my hand? Ohhh, tank you, horsey"
(holding the tip of its forelegs in your little pinched fingers, you give me a sentimental, smeary smile) 

March 8th Sava just awakened from a bad dream intermittently sobbing and singing Old MacDonald.

She loves yelling orders for food down the stairs while lounging around on the bed in mommy and daddy's room. "MOMMY!!!! GIVE ME. BRING ME CHICKEN AND ICE CREAM AND MILK AND WATER AND JUICE AND PEANUT BUTTER AND TOAST AND CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM AND..... NANA ICE CREAM AND .....QUESADILLA! OKAY????"


March 7th "You were in the CITY? You fly in airplane up in the sky? You come home see me? Oh. Miss you, daddy. Thank you coming home. Miss you so much."

-While Jamba was gone to SF for a week, we initiated POTTY TRAINING. which has been going surprisingly well. I am shamelessly, flat-out bribing you. I am so damn sick of buying diapers I can't even tell you.  So every time you poop or pee on big girl toilet, you get a piece of candy cane.  And the other day we went to target to buy 8 pairs of big girl underwear, which you carry around everywhere in a green metal pail.

-at the Chop House, on a date with your daddy. Daddy says, "Sava, i am going to go to the bathroom now, okay?"
"Oh? Daddy have a (high pitched squeal) PENIS???"


-Sassy sava likes to boss, but sassy Sava is getting better ... whenever mommy is ordered to do something, like "give me water!" she is asked.. "Sava, how do we ask nicely for things? "Please?" "Start from the beginning., Sava" "Please, mudder, can i have some water?".
I am actually really proud of how polite you are getting. Although it is hilarious to have it turned on us... like this morning. "Sava," asked daddy "Would you like to take a shower with me?" "No tank you" you replied sweetly, grinning a chesire grin as you lay comfortably against my chest.

-Everybody is pregnant, and you are convinced that you have a little baby in your belly. "see it?" you squeak, pointing to your belly? "shhhhh, my baby is sleeping."

Feb: assorted notes

Feb 28 In the last week you started talking with a strong virginia accent, which is the insertion of at least two extra syllables into a single syllable word. "it's over deeaaar" "yeeeaaauuh" and so on. you think it is hilarious... cuz it gets us so riled up and because we always have to repeat it, like a tic, so that now we are starting to unconsciously adopt it ourselves.

-Hamming it up:  "mama" hiccup, sigh.  "i sad" and your face scrunches up and lips pouty. "i misss daddeee." "Oh sweetie, i know. i miss him too. Where is daddy right now? "Donknow.. at work!"

Girls have giny's and boys have PEANUTS.  Many conversations about who has what. "Mommy have a giny?" "Yes." "Oh." "Elliot have a PEANUT?" "Oh." "Christy have a giny?" "Oh."  "Peter have a giny? "Oh."
Sometimes, Papa has a giny and sometimes he has a peanut. It just depends.

feb 22nd.  Ice Storm. Tot-time is cancelled because schools are cancelled, so we go Glen's Fair Price store to buy fabric and costumes for the costume box ... pirate booty, queen's sceptre and crown, kitty and bunny noses... but much of it is lost on you. you impatiently tear off anything i ever try to put on your head. you only want to dress up like a little girl in pretty skirts, or have me paint a kitty nose and whiskers on your face and then you will crawl around on the floor meowing and looking for a kitty nest. I put a kitty tail on you and you want to be walked around the house by your tail. I say, "Sava, we don't walk animals around by their tails. Tails are not like leashes.. Do you walk Nico around by her tail? (expecting a no) "YES! I.... do!!!" (proudly). I make a mental note to supervise your playtime with Nico a little more carefully.  When dad comes home and divse into the costume box, you two have a fun time trading off being monsters and chasing each other around the upstairs. dad wrapped black sheer fabric around his head and put a pirate's eye patch on his nose and a roll of toilet paper stuck to the side of his cheek.
that was a weird costume

Feb 21 i gave a footrub to sava this morning and she seemed to really enjoy it. Later, on the way to daycare, her bee puppet (which has temporarily replaced Horsey as the favored conversational companion) asked her what it felt like, and she closed her eyes and thought about it, then said "Chocolate!!"- mommy

feb 17 sava was sitting for a moment after breakfast with a blank look on her face, and I said "Hello, is there anybody in there?" and then leaned up close to her head and whispered "hello, hello, hello, hello...." and the echo came back so tiny... well, she thought that was just the greatest thing ever, and suggested while pointing helpfully to the side of her head "Open the door?!"- mommy

feb 17 Sava received an ad for a platinum Visa. It came with a fake credit card. She promised us that she was going to buy us some money with it. She carried it everywhere, put it into her purse, and then promised to take us out for chocolate, water, cheese, chicken, ice, quesadillas, hamburgers, and milk. We arrived at the restaurant to find she'd inadvertently chewed her card into a mush of platinum fiber.- daddy

feb 15th "I pretended to be the voice of a small plastic horse while playing with Sava and she bought it. Not just bought it--she was astonished! She told pony how old she is, what her name is, who her mommy is, and that she lives in a house. She then led pony to her room where she introduce it to her other stuffed animals."- jamba.   

-Erin : "Ah yes, the horse is good. This morning, horse was so excited to go to the gym to meet all the plastic dinosaurs he had been hearing so much about, that Sava was dressed (she dressed herself) and ready in 1/100th the time that it usually takes to cajole her out the door. She just couldn't wait to show him around. Horse is very curious about how the world works...like, what a house is (Sava was pointing to these things out the window) and Sava was very patient explaining to him that dogs and kitties live in houses but cows DON'T!

 feb 12th  Sava slumped in the movie theater seat, miniature 3D glasses on face, stuffing her face with popcorn while watching Gnomeo and Juliet. "I'm a human being," she told me later while staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. "You a daddy," she pointed to my reflection, "I'm a, I'm a human being." 

"Look! I did it, by.. MYSELF!!!! "

feb 9th 7am Sava runs into our room, "I had DWEEEM!" "Really? What did you dream?" "I dweem dweems spinning wround and wround and poop way up on the ceiling."

Savalogic: Kitties have tails. Nico has a tail. Therefore Nico is a (secret) kitty.

whenever asked a question you respond by saying "donknow."..and then you exclaim with the answer.

back from mexico: we are now 'mamia, dadyia'

oooh, look at the (squeaking) tinneee, little babeee (pinching your fingers and thumb together)

you can say elephant now. no more allalalalalal. sadness.

Sava in Mexico

Your first exhibit

"Untitled"
chalk on slate.
12.14.10 

"Bird walking under rainbow"
chalk on slate.
12.14.10

Wide Eyes

Dear Sweetie,

It’s not exaggeration to say that last night I experienced one of the most pure and profoundly joyous moments of my life. We were snuggling in your big girl bed—I was helping you settle down for sleep—and you looked up to the Christmas lights that hang in your room and began orating, welcoming me into the most intimate space.

“Lights. Qwismas lights. Blue. Wred. Blue. Lellow. Wred. Quistmas twee so big . . . tall.”

When you began talking about the Christmas tree your eyes widened and I realized you were lost in a dream space. When you talked about the candy canes your eyes were filled with such absolute wonder and fascination I could barely stand not squeezing you with all my strength.

“Qwismas lights twee (tree) sooo loud (bright?). Sooo loud qwismas lights qwismas twee. Qwismas oh-na-mints. Balls. Bird cage. Qwismas oh-na-mints. Cand’cane”—eyes widening—“ Cand’cane qwismas twee . . . cand’cane . . . cand’cane. Qwismas lights twee sooo loud park gwass gween gwass. Sky. Blue. Twees. Nico running so fast circle. Park. Qwismas twee. Cand’cane.”

“You like candy canes?”

“DO LIKE CAND' CANE!”

We continued to talk about a lot of things. I told you we were going to Mexico, to a place where everyone talked like Nana, the woman who runs your daycare. I told you grandma and grandpa were going to be there. You thought about this for a while and in a somewhat worried voice asked “jammies coming Mexico?” “Yes, sweetie. You pajamas are coming to Mexico.” You smiled, exhaled, and snuggled up to me as though this news was enough to send you to sleep.

When I got up to leave you began screaming “No. No. Don’t. No.” While getting out of the covers. “Daddy,” you said, “love you so much, Daddy.”

What a warm moment.

Love

Dad

The Meaning of Birds

by Charles Smith

Of the genesis of birds we know nothing,
save the legend they are descended
from reptiles: flying, snap-jawed lizards
that have somehow taken to air. Better the story
that they were crab-apple blossoms
or such, blown along by the wind; time after time
finding themselves tossed from perhaps a seaside tree,
floated or lifted over the thin blue lazarine waves
until something in the snatch of color
began to flutter and rise. But what does it matter
anyway how they got up high
in the trees or over the rusty shoulders
of some mountain? There they are,
little figments,
animated---soaring. And if occasionally a tern washes up
greased and stiff, and sometimes a cardinal
or a mockingbird slams against the windshield
and your soul goes oh God and shivers
at the quick and unexpected end
to beauty, it is not news that we live in a world
where beauty is unexplainable
and suddenly ruined
and has its own routines. We are often far
from home in a dark town, and our griefs
are difficult to translate into a language
understood by others. We sense the downswing of time
and learn, having come of age, that the reluctant
concessions made in youth
are not sufficient to heat the cold drawn breath
of age. Perhaps temperance
was not enough, foresight or even wisdom
fallacious, not only in conception
but in the thin acts
themselves. So our lives are difficult,
and perhaps unpardonable, and the fey gauds
of youth have, as the old men told us they would,
faded. But still, it is morning again, this day.
In the flowering trees
the birds take up their indifferent, elegant cries.
Look around. Perhaps it isn't too late
to make a fool of yourself again. Perhaps it isn't too late
to flap your arms and cry out, to give
one more cracked rendition of your singular, aspirant song.

Big Girl Bed

Dear Sweet little monkey,

You had a big day today. It started off with us having a breakfast picnic in your room while the freezing rains fell outside. Then you went off to church with Melanie where you played with the other kids and the baby you seem to love.

When you returned you wanted nothing to do with sleep. We tried everything, but you tore apart the new room I set up for you while you were gone. So we let you stay up! Your first day without a nap.

We thought we were in for trouble, but you were a dream. You went with mommy to a friend's house and baked cookies and played shark . . . for hours. When you returned home you were still in a good mood (unbelievable), and continued to laugh and play until bedtime.

Mommy read lots of books with you in bed and when she finished you remained in your big girl bed. This is a big step, but you decided it was time to make the shift. I don't know if it's going to last, but this is your first night sleeping in a real bed!

Oh, little sweet thing, we're so proud of you.

I can't wait to see you in the morning and ask about your experience.

Love,
Daddy

New This Week

Dear Sava

I just wanted to write you a note and let you know what is new to you this week.

-          You continuously recite your ABCs

-          You’ve stopped kissing me when you go to sleep, but you’ve started snuggling with us in the morning.

-          While playing alone in your room you counted to 13!

-          You taught yourself not only to get out of your own crib, but how to open the bedroom door!

You’re smart, you’re autonomous, and you’re mobile! With this new freedom you’ve also become less okay with boring old sleep. Getting you to stay in your room has become a real chore.

Yesterday your mother found that you were in your crib playing, playing, playing, but not sleeping. 12pm became 1 then 2 then 3 . . . Finally she went into the bedroom and told you she’d take away your baby if you didn’t try to sleep. 10 minutes later you were still playing, singing, and counting away in your room. Your mother took your baby then tucked you into bed. She closed the door and put the baby on a chair in the hallway.

A few minutes later she heard a thud, the door opening, little feet running across the hardwood, the door slammed. When she opened the door she found you with your baby climbing back into your crib!

Can’t wait to find out what comes next.

Love Dad

Dear Sava, 

You joined me for yoga (pronounced woga) today! 

We touched the sky and ground then moved into downward dog and child's pose (which I continue to believe is cheating on her part). Then you went into frog pose and settled her drishti on Nico (pronounced Teak-dough) and the pretend cup of tomato tea you had prepared for this morning's tea party.

Love, 

Daddy 

Dear Sava,

"Babies come from tummies, look," you said. You then stood up and slapped your little palms on your distended belly. "Baby in there!" 

"You have a baby in your stomach?" I asked. 

"Yeah! In there. Baby hiding." 

"Oh, there is a baby hiding in your stomach?" 

"Yeah! Baby sleeping now," you said in a very quiet voice so as not to wake it. 

Love, 

Daddy

Dear Sava,

You are so cute I could simply eat you and be done with it!

Just a quick recap. I've been really busy with work, bills, editing my dissertation, and taking care of you that I completely forgot to write. I picked you up from the babysitter tonight (you were there for 2 hours) and you were wild. It was you, another 2 year old, and a 4 year old named Lucian. You and the other 2 year old were laughing hysterically when I arrived. You were playing keep away with a big dog, and loving every minute of it. You were wild, had a crazy look in your eyes, you had a full diaper of peepee, and your face was completely dirty.

We drove away and you kept telling me, "Lucian is soo funny. Daddy silly. Sava silly. Doggy Silly. Lucian is so funny."

At one point there were three college girls crossing the road talking on cell phones and I asked, "What are they doing?" You said, "Those girls going to the store buy food dinner."

I was so excited. "Sava, did you just say 'those girls are going to the store to buy food for dinner?"
"Yes," you said.
"That's the most complex sentence I've ever heard you say."
"Yes," you said again. Then you casually looked out the window. I pulled the car to the side of the road and turned to look at you. You knew instantly that I was going to tickle you...and I did!

It was obvious you were overtired, but it was only 5:45 and I needed to buy you some dinner. We went to a Japanese takeout place and you suddenly began laughing and falling on the floor. I told the people in the restaurant you were overtired and about to explode. Everyone laughed. Then we walked next door to the video store and you instantly ran, and I mean RAN, to the video player you love to play with, but you tripped before you got there and as you fell you hit your head on the video machine.

It was bad. Your head looked instantly bruised, and you were crying intensely. Outside I held ice on your forehead while you cried. Then it was home to eat sushi, your first sushi, and then I put you in the bath, changed you into your jammies you call your "monkey suit" and then I put you into bed by 6:30. You were so tired that you didn't even finish your milk or stand up--typically you stay away playing with your babies (teddy bears, dolls, octopus, etc), but tonight there was none of that--you just closed your eyes and you were out.

I came in later and just watched you sleep and blew kisses to you for a few minutes, turned off your lights the way we do every night, turned on the heater and humidifier, and silently departed.

This week we've been working on new words and new concepts. This is what you know very well this week:

12345678910...11

ABCDE23HY4562PWXYZ

Heel, ball of foot, ankle, leg, knee, thigh, hip, tummy, belly button, ribs, chest, boobies (your mother), neck, throat, chin, ears, earlobes, face, head, cheeks, lips, teeth, tongue, inside mouth, nostrils, bridge of the nose, eye, eyelash, eyeball, eyebrow, forehead, hair, toes, baby toe, baby finger, back, butt, arms, elbow, wrists, palm of the hand, hand, fingers, thumbs, fingernails, toenails.

I don't know why, but I've felt compelled to teach you the names of your body parts. You sometimes love it, and sometimes you hate me quizzing you. It's all in fun, and it's helped out a lot when you have injuries. For instance, tonight you told me, "Hurt my forehead daddy, need two band-aids." You didn't need band aids, but you insisted.

Now you're sleeping, I'm watching The Last Days of Disco and writing a little something about you. Basically, you're incredible and amazing and we try to spend all of our waking hours with you. But you are also a whiny little thing. You cry, fall down on the floor screaming because, I don't know, you didn't want to wear white socks, and you throw things, break things, and run around causing problems, but we love you and do everything we can to make you happy and to stimulate you to use your language.

In the end, you're one talkative little 2 year old. It surprises everyone! "Get Sava a beer?" you ask at the market' "Tell big doggy sit down," you insist as we round a corner and there is a dog waiting to walk out into traffic; "Daddy give ice cream Sava bowl?" you say as I open the freezer door. It goes on and on and on.

You're incredible and lovely. And because of this I've taught you a little trick. At the hardware store the other day a woman heard you talking and came around the aisle to say hello.

"Hi," you said.
"How old are you?" she asked.
"I two," you said, holding up two fingers.
"Two!" she said. "We'll, you're very smart for a two year old," she said.
"Yeah," you said (and this is my 'trick'). "I'm smart and cute," you said.

She stood there floored.

"Did she just say smart and cute?" she asked me. "Indeed she did." "Whoa," said the woman. She then followed us around the store for a few minutes trying to investigate why someone so young would know so much.

You are a funny monkey baby and we love you like nothing else.

Love,
Dad

Oh tay!

Dear Sweetie,

As I've said many times before, it's hard to keep up with blogging when all we want to do is spend time with you. So this is a quick post while you shout my name from your bedroom ("Jamba" "Daddy" "Jamba Daddy" etc. etc.).

You've started saying "Oh-tay" for okay and "Huh?" for what or who. But your level of language has improved all around, and your coordination and excitement levels have also skyrocketed. Tonight you ran around and around the house screaming and squealing with delight because Nico was trying to give you kisses. After this you belly danced with mommy and me in the living room, ate a big dinner, and the moved upstairs to play with your trains.

When I arrived you let me play with the trains but then said condescendingly (and quite adorably), "Oh. Good daddy. Good job." I said thanks. "Oh tay Daddy?" you said and kissed me on the head several times. To keep from laughing I kept playing with the train on the floor. "Good job, daddy. Yea!"

After this you tried walking very carefully between two small wooden trees the train is meant to pass through. We kept moving them closer and closer, and each time you very carefully walked between them. Then I added more items so that you had a narrow gauntlet to pass through. It became quite incredible watching you slow down at the end. Then you began breathing deeply and putting your hands together the way you've seen me do it when I'm practicing yoga. You would breathe deeply and then carefully walk keeping your feet together and pass between two rows of about 5 trees and several train cars. Each time we'd shout with excitement and parade you around the room.

"Did it!" you'd say.
"Yes you did. You did it."
"Yeah. Did it. Again?"

It was so cute and amazing your mother and I kept looking at each other in amazement not only at your ability to walk the gauntlet, but also your dedication and concentration.

Now I'm in the bedroom watching Down By Law with your mother. You're in your crib drinking milk, saying our names, and basically still excited about your success.

I love you.

Dad.

Two Years Old

Happy Birthday Little Apple!!!!

First day of Fall today: each morning a little crisper- it feels good to snuggle down under covers. You are two years old and wearing your new hat from Rachel. Flaunting your new two-ness, although the concept is lost on you: when we ask you how old you are you say "months!" We sing happy birthday to you and you hide under my skirt.  I woke up this morning with intense cramps: a funny coincidence, to start my period on this morning. Two years ago I had just broke open and we were learning to breathe together, chest to chest. Now you call out to me from your crib and we snuggle together in bed with a bottle of milk and a present from grandma, to distract you from your tantrum... the past few mornings you have wanted milk from my boobs and NOT the bottle and have gotten quite mad when told that you were a big girl now: only milk in bottles. This new two-ness comes with some hard breaks, you are learning.

Now you are at daycare and I am hunkered at the computer, determined to write about the current state of Sava- but first I am going to perform one of your birthday rituals which is to bake a carrot cake: it will be the usual adventure in the kitchen with your mom making a wild lumpy mess of a cake and trying to fix it all with heaps of frosting. Later I will pick you up from daycare and we will swing out to the lavender farm to play with the giant white flemish bunny at the rabbitat, and then we are going to have a party at the playground this evening, with face paint and swings and slides, and you are excited about this. You may not understand "two" but you understand "party" and "playground".

Okay, just a few notes about some of my favorite things about you right now.

Spicy.
You went through a period where you were fascinated with spicy things. It started with our Russian dumpling dinners. You saw Dad and I swirl this cool red stuff into our cream and wanted some of the "sauce" for your own. You puckered your face and said "hot" and then stuck your spoon out for more. Then you wanted hot sauce on your eggs, and so on and so forth. Even as you were cringing your face and grabbing your glass of water, you always came back for more. We always talk about how PROUD your Papa is going to be of you. Another fledgling spice monster with whom to enjoy oyster shooters and jalapeno-infused margaritas....Then, the other day, I think Dad overloaded you a bit, and suddenly you are not so very much into spicy any more.

Sharks and Tea Parties: the development of the imagination.
You are not afraid of anything, as far as I can tell. Except, you are strangely fascinated with sharks. It started with Finding Nemo... your favorite part of the movie is the AA meeting held by Bruce and the other sharks. (Fish are friends, NOT food!) I am not sure if it is a genetic thing (I can be gripped by terror while swimming in a pool) or what, but you are hooked on the magnetism of that fear. Actually, I am not even sure if it is fear. I don't know what to call it really, since it seems to be mostly a game for you. For instance: the other day, we were walking in the woods with Nico- a nice long walk through a maze of paths in the thicket. We were ambling along and just being quiet together, when suddenly you stopped and pointed down. "Mama, ook!" as you pointed to a half-submerged tree root which was crossing our path. "Ook! ...........Shark!!!" And then your voice got really low "Bruucce!  Swim Away!"  and you gleefully leapt over it and went running. I just about died laughing. It was so great, to see you using your imagination like that. Translating a tree root into something symbolically cresting the surface of the ocean. We hopped dramatically over every single tree root that we crossed. So interesting..... It reminds me that you are really starting, in these last few weeks, to start using your imagination so much more. You are always now wanting to throw little tea parties from your little toy kitchen. Pouring the "water" into cups and bringing it to me to drink, over and over again. Serving me empty plates piled high with delicacies.

Chloe and Elliot
As I wrote before, it was wonderful to see you fall in love with Chloe up in Hayfork. The beginnings of the instincts of friendship. Now, when we are cuddling in bed in the morning, Daddy asks you "What did you dream about, Sava?" "Chloe dream." "You dreamed about Chloe?" "Yeah. Chloe park dream." "You dreamed about Chloe and the park?" "Yeaah, Chloe park dream." Every morning. 
But your current obsession, probably because he lives down the street and we have weekly playdates with him, is Elliot. Elliot is about four months younger than you and has inspired all kinds of big sister instincts in you. I think the fact that he is a boy, and that he is younger and thus doesn't present as much of a threat to you as some of your girl playmates, but with Elliot you are just unbelievably sweet. (Instead, of say, pushing Rihanna away from all your toys- shouting "Mine!" and grabbing her water bottle and running off with it - that sort of awesome stuff that always makes a parent feel so warm and fuzzy and proud). With Elliot, you are pretty good at sharing all your toys with him and showing him around the house and pushing the button on the rocking horse's ear when he wants to giddy-up on it. So anyway.... this is all leading up to the fact that now you are fixated on him. "What do you want to do, Sava?" I ask in the morning as we are cuddling. "See Elliot!"  Anytime I ask if you want to take a walk you respond "I want see Elliot!" and then you pull me eagerly by the hand to his house. I am not sure if he shares your passion.. Elliot is such a mellow kid that he often seems kind of stunned and awed by the world (and especially you), but I think you prefer it that way. 


Rihanna and the Green Beans
Probably the proudest moment I have had thus far, as a parent, was the afternoon that Rihanna and her mama came over to garden. The two of you were hopping on the trampoline together and you were doing your usual thing of stuffing cherry tomatoes in your mouth as you jumped. I was picking through some green beans off the vines and thought that you might like to try some, so I brought some over. "Hey Sava, you want some green beans?" Not really sure that you would like them. "Sure!" you said in that delightfully accomodating way of yours: "Yeah, sure!" So you both got a handful and gobbled them up and well, you just LOVED them! So all of a sudden we had two little girls bouncing wildly on the trampoline and clamouring for green beans. I mean, if they make awards for good mommies, I think Miriam and I deserved one that day. Like, Rihanna came over last week while you were gone to daycare and was jumping by herself, and she asked me for green beans. And just two nights ago you and I went out for a late afternoon jump and you got really mad when I said there was no more green beans (until I remembered I had bought some at the farmer's market and saved the day). It is weird... something must have clicked for both of you guys, to have you now associate the act of jumping on the trampoline with eating green beans. 


Little Mama




Wheels on the Bus


Market


Mommy Sad


Baby crying at playground.....

two lumps of clay

september 16th

In dreams last night I walk along the ventriculated limbs of my thought possums, those sleeping possibilities.  Endlessly variegated and multi-edged, these tentacles deliver me into courtyards, into street scenes, where I weave amongst seated patrons and take some orders, ignore others. Everything is blossoming, wild differentiation. A man speaks to me and then you cry out from your room next door and I am wrenched from the scene and into this one: darkened room and stillness.
Six a.m.
I gather you into my arms with a bottle of milk and we snuggle back into bed for our new morning cuddle routine (you drink the milk with eyes wide open on my face, while I hold you and stare back dreamily, and we break and giggle for kisses and fierce hugs before returning to soft focus) and we are two lumps of clay again, waiting to be formed.

-mom

Dear Sava,

Your communication skills are growing, you are becoming cuter and more excited with life than ever before. It's almost absurd how cute you are. In fact, you're the child who makes people want a child. At least that's been a comment from quite a few people.

For the past few weeks now you've been on the "What's that?" phase, only you use who for what. We'll go walking and you'll ask "Daddy, who's that?" and I'll say "That's a ______ (flagpole, grate, brick, desk, lampshade, mousepad, coat rack . . .)" and you'll repeat (in your own language) "Moosh pad" "Cot wark". I always congratulate you and you seem so proud of yourself.

Last night we were sitting on the bed together upstairs. Your mother was downstairs, but you thought she was coming up and, as per usual, you shushed me. "Mommy coming," you said wide-eyed. Then you grabbed pillows and hid us under them. In the dark under the pillows you asked "Where mommy go?" "I don't know," I said. We looked up, but mommy wasn't there. "Where is she?" I asked. "Cooking," you said. "What's she cooking?" I asked. "Chicken!" came the reply.

The idea of chicken cooking was particularly appealing to you. "Mommy!" you called out. "Cook chicken!" I stopped you and asked you to repeat after me. "Mommy." "Mommy," you said. "Can." "Can." "You." "Yuuuuuu?" you said. "Cook." "Cook." "Chicken." "Chicken." "For." "Foo." "Dinner." "Dinner."

Excellent, I told you. Now say it back to me. You thought about it for a moment. "Mommy. You. Cook. Chicken?"

"Yes!" I said with a big smile. "And what else do we say?" "Thankyouyouwelcome," you said.

You were so excited to be able to ask your mother this complex thing that we actually went to the store and bought chicken to cook!

Tonight I returned home and found you still sleeping at 5:30pm. You woke up at 6 and we both sat in bed together watching Fern Gully for a little while. You really like sitting with me on the big bed, reclining back in my right arm with a pillow behind your head, and watching movies. You continually ask me, "Who's that, Daddy?" and I tell you, even if it's the same person 100 times. Then I ask you to tell me who they are. Most of the time you will remember, and when you don't, I remind you.

During movie time you inevitably grow bored with the movie and begin asking about my face. "That, Daddy?" you'll say while grabbing my ear. "That's an ear." "Eeeeaaarrrr," you say. In this way you've enabled yourself to attain an incredible vocabulary of terms. You not only know mouth, like most two year olds, but you know the difference between lips, teeth and the tongue. You also know nostrils, nose bridge, earlobe, shins, forehead, eyebrows, eyelids, eyeballs, and eye lashes. You're amazing. Truly amazing.

There is so much more I'd love to write. The wonderful dinner we ate tonight which was followed by jumping on the trampoline for starters. The moon kept going behind the clouds and you'd ask "Moon go?" Then you'd look all around in the trees, the bushes, up in the air. Then the clouds would part and you'd shout, "There it is!" We played this for a while, then we came in the house and you took a bath while I wrote this. Right now you're sitting on my lap. You're wet, but wrapped in a towel. You're burping and making silly noises...and while I write this, you gently touch my face and say, in the sweetest little voice, "Daddy, Daddy, milk please." I told you yes, I'll get you milk, but when I kept typing you poked your finger into my cheek very hard. "What is it?" You hugged me very closely. "Mommy," you said. "Uh. Daddy."


I love you, sweetie. And I'm going now because we are going to look at picture of crocodiles on the Internet before getting milk.

Daddy

Poop: in your mother's words

last night, i came home from work at 9:30 (so early!!) to find an overwhelming stench of human excrement wafting down the stairs. Instead of proudly trumpeting my spicy chocolate ice cream treasure to (what I had imagined would be) an adoring and grateful husband, I raced upstairs to find Jamba forlornly scrubbing the sides of Sava's cribs with antiseptic spray. The smell was noxious..I gave a little dry heave.
Me: "What happened????"
Jamba: "I swear tonight I came so close to ending her puny little life. After taking her out to buy new shoes and a new dress, getting ice cream, and then taking her to the playground and letting her go down the slides, coming home and making us both dinner, and then putting her to bed, I finally laid down on the bed in exhaustion. I heard her call out a few times, and then silence. I got suspicious and went into her room and she had, in that space of time, pulled handfuls of poo out of her diaper and smeared it all over her shirt, into every crevice of the crib, all over the walls. She even flung chunks of it across the room. It's everywhere. I thought, at least it looks like her dollies and stuffed animals escaped, but I turned them over and she had smeared shit all over their faces."
Me: "Oh my god. Jamba. I am SO SORRY! That sucks. Here, get out of here. Let me finish it up at least. Go take a walk. Ummmm.. do you want some chocolate ice cream?? It's really spicy! Maybe it could take your mind off it"
Jamba: "Yeah, I don't think I could really eat chocolate ice cream right now. But... thanks. I feel more like throwing up. Sava's lying on the bed. I made her take a freezing shower and I think I scared her a little. I was SOOOOO pissed at her. I think she got it."

There were some feeble "mama's" coming from the bedroom, so I went into our room to find Sava just lying there quietly on her back, looking up at the ceiling. Since she started to crawl, I have never seen her lie so still in one place for any length of time. I chastized her gently and then told her that I had to go finish cleaning up her poo, and that I was really really unhappy about it. She nodded penitently.

So then I spent an hour on my hands and knees scrubbing dried poop off the floor, crib, etc!!!! What fun!!! I am really glad I had a big glass of that delicious red wine after work, and that I had been in such a good mood all evening that I was still kinda floating over all the horror. And I was shaking my head and thinking about Nico's skunk incidence from last week (I got home at 11:30, let Nico out for a final pee, and she ran directly into a skunk- I was brushing my teeth at the downstairs sink and thinking contentedly of bed, when I looked down to see Nico blinking her little eyes furiously and foaming at the mouth. "You can't get rabies this quickly", I remember thinking for a foggy micro-second, and then the wall of smell hit me like a sonic boom- Fresh Skunk, I learned, smells a little bit like Skunk but more like burning rubber tires, and I ordered her into the tub in a panic (the bathroom stills smells so strongly of skunk a week later) closed the door and ran upstairs to find Jamba so we could spend the next two hours scrubbing Nico in the warm midnight air)  and wondered "What have Jamba and I done to deserve all this, these lives of toiling scullery maids???"

We acquired dependents.
Sometimes, at certain times in the weary day, I don't recommend the habit.

Just kidding, Sava- we adore you and Nico and you are worth all the pain. But seriously.. what's with the poop smearing? 

poop redux

Dear Sava,

Your mother canceled the babysitter for today so when she left for work at 3, I had to cancel my work meetings and return home. You woke up at 4 we watched Shrek together until you lost interest.

I decided to try and give you a really good day because you've done thrown a lot of minor tantrums in the last week as we approach your second birthday (13 days away!), so I took us out for ice cream. You were such a good girl. You kept your napkin on, you ate with your spoon, and when it was over you didn't cry or scream, you just pointed out some trucks to me, noticed a bird ("Bird flying!") and got back into the car.

Next we went to the store to buy you shirts, socks and new shoes with princesses on the sides and lights inside that light up when you run. You love the shoes, but in the checkout line on the way out of the store, you began grabbing everything you wanted or shouted the names of things you could identify that you wanted. This was short lived though and soon we were back in the car headed to the play park.

"Yaaaaaaayyyy" you shouted when you saw that we were at the play park. You were so happy to be there. You jumped on the colored spots that make sound, you went on the swings, you slid down the slides and you were so cute in your new shoes that the adults were pointing to you and smiling.

At home we read a book, changed you into your pajamas and put you into your crib with a bottle of milk. You had all of your babies in there with you, and a while later, when I noticed you were still awake and checked on you, I noticed you had lined them up between the wall and your crib rail. This is a little game you created when you play alone.

But by 9:15 you were still awake! I heard you cry my name one time, but didn't go into the bedroom for a few minutes ... until I heard you cry "Poop. Poop, Daddy. Poop."

When I walked in the room I couldn't believe my eyes. You were covered in poop and you were holding up your poop-smeared hands. You had rubbed poop into the railings of your crib, smeared it across the faces of all your dolls, on the backs of teddy bears, made hand prints on the walls, and what you could not immediately use, you hurled across the room so that the floors were littered with pieces of poop.

Remembering the books, I put you into an ice cold shower and held you in there (a little too aggressively, I'm sorry to say) while you screamed bloody murder, but all the while kept trying to wash you hands and body. It was a horrible, horrible moment. When that was over, I lay you on our bed and put a new diaper on you as I went in to clean your room.

How do you begin with such a mess? It was everywhere. I packed up all of your blankets, sheets, dolls and clothing into a big bag and then began with the railings and walls. Your mother came home about 45 minutes later and took over for me. When we checked on you in our room, you were so petrified that you had not moved from your spot.

Finally it was finished. I returned to the bedroom to find you in the same position as before. You looked worried. You were worried. I dressed you in pajamas and sat you down on the bed.

"Sava, can you tell me what we can play with in your room?"
"..."
"Can we play with dolls?"
"Yes."
"Yes, we can play with dolls. And can we play with books?"
"Yes. Books."
"And can we play with toys and teddy bears?"
"Yes."
"Sava, can you tell me what we CAN'T play with in your room or in the house?"
Long pause.
"Poop."
"Yes, we do not play with poop. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Long pause.
"Sorry, Daddy."
"I'm sorry too. I'm sorry for getting angry with you, Sava."

Then you gave me a big hug and a kiss.

Cute, but the next morning it was tantrum after tantrum leading to your breaking a glass on the front porch. Ah, two.

And your not even two yet!