Random Daycare Daily Report #12

Sophie had a lot of fun playing with and eating play dough (No worries, all the ingredients are edible, though I can't imagine it tastes good!). After we told her the play dough wasn't for eating, she crouched behind a toy shelf and ate some anyway. Sneaky girl... I love it! Sophie also loves to play silly games with me. While I was patting some of her friends to sleep, I could hear her across the room saying, "Erin, Erin, Erin!" I turned around and said, "Sophie, Sophie, Sophie!" Then she laughed and said, "funny!" What a great sense of humor she has :)

Reward

And because a girl can always do with a pair of red patent ballet flats.

You wish you could rock an outfit like this...

I personally don't think I can pull off orange shoes and purple striped socks with such aplomb...

Ride Sophie Ride

We don't take Sophie to the mall very often- for one, her Mama and Dada prefer online shopping in their PJs from the comfort of the couch, and two, there isn't anything at the mall that vaguely interests her. Until now...

So I had to bring my laptop in for servicing last weekend and brought Sophie along because Jude needed some time to grade. She was on her best behavior at the Apple Store and sat quietly waiting while I got my stuff done (Ok, so it helped that she was sitting in front of a ginormous iMac that was playing a Winnie-the-Pooh story...)As a treat, I decided to take her to the kiddie area where they have a large play space and several of those coin-operated rides. Sophie had never been on one before and had no idea how it works. So I put her in one of them just for fun, not intending on putting any money into it at all, and she was perfectly happy. But then a little boy came by with his mom who looked like she was more than ready to throw in 4 quarters just so she could have a minute of peace to herself and I didn't want to be that party-pooper lady who yanks her daughter off a ride the moment another child comes along. So I let Sophie stay on to see what would happen.



Let's just say for a whole hour after, all that came out from Sophie's mouth in various permutations was Mama put money, ring-o-round-a-rosie (the song that was playing), coins, Mama waving, round and round, Sophie driving, and Sophie choo choo.

Oh, and did I mention that she sat in it two more times after?...

Because you can never say it enough...

Thank you, my love...

"Sledding, Mama?"

That's what Sophie quizzically asked me as we looked out the window yesterday morning after she woke up.

Yes, Sophie, it looks like you can go sledding, doesn't it? Mama totally understand why you're so perplexed. We were just building sandcastles last weekend when it was 78F and now it's snowing. This is what we call a cruel joke. You thought winter was over, didn't you? So did Mama. Mother Nature is saying, Gotcha! She likes to toy with people's emotions like that. How are you supposed to learn about the seasons this way?...

Okay, I didn't really say that to her but you get the point. You think after being here for 8 years, we'd be used to this freaky excuse of a spring that Ann Arbor has by now. But no, every April, as if our memories were wiped clean of the disappointments of years past, it takes just one nice sunny weekend and we all foolishly believe again that winter is over, that we can finally put away our boots and down jackets, and bust out the flip flops and tank tops. And every year, we can almost always count on it to snow one more time before May arrives.

Just look- this is Sophie at daycare last week:

[Painting with fly swatters in the sun]

And this is her yesterday:

[Snowball fight in the middle of April anyone?]

I rest my case...

Dearest Sam...

Your niece has something to say to you on your 18th birthday:



We love you!!

When is a cup not just a cup?

When your daughter can drink from it without spilling water all over herself.



There is much irrational pride... :)

Sophie is ready for summer

And so is her Mama :)

Kite runner

Literally, I didn't know what to do with myself (and Sophie). After all the cold, snow, rain, and hail we've been getting since November, faced with a gorgeous, sunny 78F day, I was dumbfounded.

For the past few months, we've spent Sunday afternoons either at the Hands-on-Museum, the Museum of Natural History, some bookstore or another, or one of the indoor gardens. It was like I had forgotten how to enjoy a sunny day. But thankfully, my husband didn't. He had the foresight to get us a kite a couple of weeks ago and yesterday, with a good strong wind blowing, into the blue, cloudless sky, we launched our $7.99 Toys R'Us kite. And it was magnificent.





We tried to involve Sophie in setting the kite up and flying it, showing her what it means to hold it up against he wind, and the mechanics of tugging at the string lightly to keep the kite in flight...







...but no, the little imp was more interested in running after the other kite that was being flown. In fact, she was just happy to be running, period.



I don't think it mattered to Sophie very much what her parents were doing-- or how much fun they were having with the kite-- she was just happy to be able to be run around outside as fast and as far as she can without 1) stumbling into snow; 2) being encumbered by a down jacket and three layers of clothes underneath, or 3) one (or both) of her parents chasing after her hollering at her to keep her glove/hat/socks/boots on. It was a truly beautiful, beautiful day. Oh, and made even more special by the fact that Sophie saw the moon (sort of) for the first time! It was such a perfectly cloudless sky plus it was probably close to 6pm so you could just barely make out a hint of the moon in the sky. It occurred to us that after reading about the moon, seeing pictures of it, and singing about it, Sophie has never actually seen the moon in reality.



She was transfixed.

Who are you? I'm Sophie.

I'm 20 months old today.

I run everywhere. Walking is for wimps.

I don't understand why you would make crayons so bright and colorful if you're not supposed to eat them.

I never walk away from a puddle.



If I was queen of the house, I would eat plain boiled pasta and blackberries for every meal. Everyday.

I believe that throwing myself on the floor crying is a perfectly legitimate form of self-expression.

I do a mean impression of an elephant.

I see furniture, play yards, and safety gates as merely challenges to be overcome.

My parents think I'm fabulous.

Got milk? (Part deux)

Sophie is finally weaned.

It's been about a week since we first started trying and while she went all Tasmanian Devil on us those first couple of mornings-- our daughter is not one to let things go without a fight-- I think she's finally come to realize that the only milk she's going to get from now is coming from a sippy cup.

Mind you, she wasn't nursing very much past 15 months or so, just nights and mornings by that time so it was just a matter of getting her to drop those feeds when she felt like it. I've been agonizing over this whole weaning thing since Sophie turned one and I just didn't feel ready, and I knew neither was she. It was something we, and only we, shared and I wasn't willing to let go emotionally even though rationally, I knew she was old enough to move on to soy formula exclusively. I told myself that between her allergies and all the cold-related illnesses she might be getting exposed to at school, keeping up the breastfeeding was the best thing for her. There just didn't seem to be much sense in weaning before either one of us was ready.

But then this semester, I started teaching in the evenings and pumping got too time-consuming, so we decided to try dropping the night feed and have Jude put her to bed with soy milk. She wasn't happy initially of course but she was old enough by then to realize that I wasn't around and often too tired to put up too much of a fight anyways, so that was that. But she clung tenaciously on to the morning feed like her life depended on it. We think it has less to do with milk at that point but more the warm comfort of me holding her close after an entire night alone in her crib.

So I let her take her time and it was another couple of months of just morning feeds before we decided last week that it was time for her to drop it completely. My milk production was tapering off and Sophie was getting frustrated at that, asking for more even though we were done nursing and us having to make her extra soy milk anyway. So it was just a matter of by-passing the breastfeeding altogether and just giving her the formula when she woke up.

I'd be lying if I said I'm not a tad sad that this aspect of mothering is now over but I'm glad we got to nurse this long at all so that comforts me a little. I guess a part of me believed that I would lose some kind of special bond with Sophie once I weaned but thinking back, it was probably the hormones talking. I'll always be her Mama and a sippy cup isn't going to get in the way of that.

This post is not about Sophie

It's about bacon.

Specifically, thick-cut Applewood-smoked bacon. The kind of bacon that rouses you from your sleep. The kind of bacon whose scent still haunts your house at two in the afternoon long after breakfast is over and the dishes are done. And whose flavor lingers longer still, in your mouth and in your mind, making you stare lustily at remaining two pieces in the refrigerator contemplating if there is such a thing as too much bacon in a day. The kind of bacon that's so thick, four slices weighs just over a pound. Yeah, that kind...


After a quick jaunt to the farmers market yesterday-- even though it's technically Spring, there weren't that many vendors out and it really was a little too cold to be strolling leisurely outdoors for produce-- we came home with huge bags of organic pea shoots, spinach, and a spicy bitter greens mix (arugula, tatsoi, baby spinach, & mizuna). And thanks to Sparrow, we also got some fresh duck legs (for duck confit- another day, another post...) and the above-mentioned bacon that Jude developed a sudden craving for.

Between us getting ready for work and prepping Sophie's breakfast before bundling her off to daycare, weekday mornings are always a blur and we're lucky if we have time for a bowl of cereal or a slice of toast before we fly out the door. And so even though Jude had a morning meeting today, there was still some time to put together a nice semi-leisurely breakfast. And honestly, by roasting the bacon, the only thing I had to dirty a pan for were the eggs, which aren't that big a deal. Add to that a quick balsamic vinaigrette and some shaved Parmesan, breakfast was done in under 20 minutes.

[Roasted thick-cut bacon, farmers market spicy greens (dressed with balsamic vinaigrette), fried eggs with shaved Parmesan, and a slice of Roadhouse bread]

It also cost us less than $5 each which pleased me immensely knowing that something similar would have cost us at least $20 or more outside... If you ask me, one should never have to pay that much for eggs and bacon, thick-cut Applewood-smoked or not...

How a 19-month old blew my mind on the sidewalk

Dear World,
Let it be known, Sophie knows her alphabet.

Ok, that's all.

-Us



[By the time I got over myself and whipped my phone out, she'd reached G...]