Happy 2nd Birthday, sweet girl!

Until I gather my wits about me after throwing a birthday party for a now two-year-old, whittling 218 photos to a manageable 55, and playing temporary single-mom as Jude attends a workshop in Colorado, a proper party recap post is going to have to wait. Till then, here's a series of my favorite photos from Sophie's party. It took her a while to realize that the cake was hers for real and that she was actually going to be blowing out proper (instead of imaginary) candles. Once she did though, you could not find a happier child anywhere in Ann Arbor... :)

"Join us for a cherry picnic?"

How do you say No? :)

Another memory to bottle and remember for always

It took Sophie 45 minutes from the time I put her down in her crib to her actually falling asleep. It was like she had so much to tell me about her weekend as if I hadn't been around for any it...

Sophie: We went to the bookstore, Mama.
Me: Yes, we did, Sophie.
Sophie: The bookstore is open. We took the escalator. Like Courduroy.
Me: Yup, the bookstore was open. And we read many books.
Sophie: Shall we go to the bookstore, Mama? To see pigeon? (We had read Pigeon Wants a Puppy this morning when we were at Borders.)
Me: Would you like to go to the bookstore again tomorrow, Sophie?
Sophie: Yes. Maybe the bookstore open.
Me: I'm quite sure the bookstore will be open tomorrow.
Sophie: Sophie will be happy!

[Just as I thought she had fallen asleep...]
Sophie: Where is our car, Mama?
Me: It's in the parking lot, Sophie.
Sophie: Where is Sophie's carseat, Mama?
Me: It's in the car.
Sophie: Our car clean. We car wash.
Me: Yes, we took it to the car wash yesterday. Remember, we gave it a vacuum and a shampoo?
Sophie: Yah. It's not dirty anymore, Mama.
Me: No, it's not. It's...?
Sophie: It's clean. It's so clean. That's good, Mama.

I vaguely remember her saying something else about playing in the sandbox but by that time, I was starting to drift off to sleep. I think when she realized I wasn't responding anymore, she just turned around and went to sleep herself. I probably should just pretend I was sleeping right from the get go just so she would go to bed, but I was actually really enjoying our little tête-à-tête in the dark- the two of us lying on our backs- she in her crib, and I on the futon next to it, chit-chatting about everything, but really, nothing, like girlfriends having a mini pajama party :)

[Sophie rocking her fedora on our way out the house this morning.]

Highlight of my day

Time: Evening
Soundtrack: The Weepies
Activity: "Look at me, Mama! I'm twirling. I'm twirling, Mama!"
Mood: Much in love

Here comes the sun

What do you get when you add a Dada who has successfully defended his dissertation (yay!!), long summer days (sunset at 9.30), and scorching hot temperatures?


Well, evenings at the swimming pool and picnic dinners after, of course!

No fun

For the third time in her life, Sophie got her blood drawn :( It was time for an updated allergy profile and the only way to get an accurate picture of that was to do a blood test. She had one done when she was 7 months old and then again about six months ago, neither of which were pleasant experiences, of course. Having your blood drawn is no fun, whether you're two or twenty... But according to Jude, Sophie was really brave this time. We had talked to her about it beforehand, telling her that she was going to see the doctor's and that she might get a little boo-boo. Apparently, she gamely offered her arm to the nurse when asked, didn't fuss when they prepped it for the syringe (swabbing, tying the rubber tubing, finding the vein, etc...), and really only cried when the needle poked skin. That didn't last long either and as a treat, Jude got her an entire bottle of orange juice just for her alone that he bedazzled with stickers the nurses had given her :)

We won't know the test results for a while, but we're hopeful that we'll see lower allergy indices. Her milk allergy index has been falling steadily since she was an infant which means she might eventually outgrow it altogether. Her egg allergy index was still fairly high the last time we checked though, and if it hasn't gone down now that she's almost two, it might be something she will have to live with for a while :( So far, it hasn't been too difficult keeping her diet dairy-free- she's never had dairy or egg and so she never asks for them (except for cheese, which I suspect she sees her friends in school eating, so it's something of a curiosity for her). She gets vegan baked goods (zucchini cake and cookies) once in a while, and Jude and I eat dairy-free whenever we can so she doesn't get exposed to it much at home. But still, we would like Sophie to eventually have as broad a palate as possible, and not being able to eat dairy or egg means there are so many things she may not get to enjoy (a classic thin-crust pizza, any Indian dishes made with ghee, all pastries, basically, and Grandma's delectable hae cho-- prawn rolls-- all come to mind...)

The upside-- for the day at least-- was that she got to bask in a Madeline moment when she went back to school after her allergy appointment brandishing a "scar"-- really, it was just a dot that has already healed-- she could show off to her friends ;) As her teachers wrote in her daily report:

Sophie had a terrific day. She showed off her "boo-boo" to her friends a little (and some of them were very envious), then let me remove the gauze to put sunscreen on. We did some water play and Sophie was in heaven! There was a big pool of water in the sand box and Sophie sat in it the WHOLE time. Smart girl!

Counting down two weeks

Dear world,
Let it be known that Sophie has some very definite ideas about how her birthday should be like:
Me: Sophie, what would you like for your birthday?
Sophie: Helmet.
Me: A helmet? Just a helmet?
Sophie: Ya, purple helmet.
Me: Alright, a helmet. Anything else?
Sophie: Helmet and the bicycle.
Me: Oh, you want a bicycle too?
Sophie: Yes, bicycle too. And scooter?
Me: No, you can't have both.
Sophie: Just the bicycle. And party, Mama?
Me: Yes, we'll have a party for Sophie.
Sophie: Sophie blow the candles all by self. Yay!!!! [blows imaginary candles] Mama sing. Sing "Happy birthday to Sophie."

I think we're going to be having this conversation everyday until August 8...

Narrative or complaint?

As part of data collection for research, I go into schools and ask young children to tell me stories. And I always tell them, "Remember, a story has a beginning, a middle, and an end." Basically, we want them to be able to create a narrative that has an introduction, an exposition, and a conclusion. Today, in the middle of bath, out of nowhere, Sophie said to us,

"What happening? Wesley hit Sophie toe. Sophie started to cry. Boo boo. Ice-pack."

Our daughter just told us a story.

Tartine

Tartine Bread
Originally uploaded by ghetto of our mind

It's been a little over a year since our summer-long sojourn in the Bay Area, and till today, we talk about our time there fondly and longingly. And one of the reasons for this was just simply some of the most wonderfully interesting and just downright delicious food we've ever had the privilege to try. From ramen to ice-cream, oysters to sausages, nothing we ate in that three months disappointed us. But one of the things that lingers most vividly in our memories is Tartine Bakery. Oh yes, the Tartine of luscious pastries and earthy breads- how I miss you...

So Jude came back from a short trip to the Bay Area on Friday, and boy did he come back bearing sweet gifts for both Sophie and I. For the little one, he bought a fairy garland dress-up set from Paxton Gate in the Mission District (the moment Sophie puts it on, she starts pretending to fly- it's quite delightful...) But while it's really adorable and Sophie does love her gift a whole lot, I think I'm the one who's more spoiled by my gifts- Tartine Bread and four pastries lovingly smuggled in his suitcase across 2000 miles. Like I told Jude as a bit into the Frangipane and Berry Tart, nothing that has traveled that distance should still taste this good... And don't even get me started on the Chocolate Hazelnut Tart.

But it's the book that has gotten my heart all aflutter. It's not a recipe book- it's a bread bible, a Tartine bible if you will. You will not find exact formulae in here- but what you will find is a love story written by a man about how he came about making the perfect loaf of bread. It's about the most elemental and visceral aspects of making bread- the yeast cultures, fermentation, the kneading, etc. There's nothing frou-frou or pretty about breadmaking per se, but the black and white photos-- all taken while flooded in natural light-- make it seem like the most alluring process in the whole world. Reading through the book, I can almost imagine the smells of the bread wafting right through to me (yes, "smells", plural- if you get good bread, the croute, in French-- or crust-- smells different from the inside-- the soft mie or crumb).

I've been slowly savoring the book- reading about the painstaking journey towards that perfect baguette or that country loaf, and am looking forward to the later chapters of the book that features a few recipes for sandwiches and other uses for bread (croutons, bread soups, involtini, etc.). I will probably never make every single thing-- bread or otherwise-- or even a quarter of the things highlighted in this book, but for now, I'm loving the memories it's bringing back and the love it's reviving in me for a simple, soulful loaf of Tartine bread.

Is your tummy noisy?

Sophie only took a 15 minute nap at daycare yesterday. Yes, you read that right, 15 minutes. When she usually takes a solid 2 hours... She's not ill (maybe a bit of a sniffly nose) so no one knows why she just refused to sleep. She was in a great mood when I picked her up though, so I don't think anything's wrong with her. But a minuscule nap meant I had to give her dinner the moment we got home so we could start her bedtime routine early and bundle her into bed before she would lose it and go all Tasmanian Devil on me. We usually do dinner between 6.30 and 7.00 but she scarfed down her porridge at 5.45, was in the bath-tub by 6.15, and in her jammies, on our bed with a sippy cup of milk and Corduroy by 6.30.

As expected, she was really sleepy and was starting to get cranky. And because of that, she actually had a hard time falling asleep (I know, it's counter-intuitive, but many children fall asleep better and faster when they're not overtired)- I had to read How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight twice and sing "You Are My Sunshine" on loop for at least 20 minutes before she fell asleep soundly.

And Sophie slept right through- 12 hours straight. Not a squeak from her till 7.30 this morning when she woke up howling, "Water! I want water!" When I went in with her sippy cup of milk, she looked up at me, patted her stomach, and said,

Sophie: Tummy noisy, Mama. Tummy, tummy...

Me: Are you hungry, Sophie?

Sophie: Yes. Cheerios? I want the Cheerios. I want the crackers too. Please, Mama?

And that is why, if you had walked into our bedroom at 7.30 this morning, you'd have found Sophie and I sitting on the bed in our pajamas, not having brushed our teeth or washed our faces, listening to the Sesame Street station on Pandora, with Sophie plowing through half a dozen crackers and a pile of Cheerios...

Backseat driver

It's been tricky business driving with Sophie in the car these days. Don't get me wrong, she's the model passenger- she never makes "helpful" comments about my driving skills, she doesn't tell me which route she prefers to take, and she always keeps her hands inside the moving vehicle (being strapped into a car seat helps..). What makes driving difficult with her around is how hard she's been making me laugh with the things she says. It's not that they're particularly funny, but taken in the context of when and how she's saying them, plus the realization that she's picking up so much language just from listening to us, it's just been sheer delight!

[To everyone whizzing by us in their bike, whether or not they're wearing a helmet] Where's your helmet?!!

Firetruck, you hungry? Want some bunny crackers? It's tasty!

It's windy, Mama. Trees waving at Sophie.

Where's sun hiding? There he is! Hiding the clouds.

This our car. Our car is good.

Mama no criss-cross applesauce. Mama is driving.

[To joggers she happens to see along the sidewalk] Have a good jogging!

And my favorite thus far:
[As we turned into our parking lot and I told her we had arrived home] Good job, Mama! Good job!

Of course, in 12 years (or less) when she's burning through her college tuition in phone bills (or whatever form of communication her father and I are going to have to pay for), someone reading this right now will surely remind me that there once was a time when I was proud of and celebrated her chattiness...

What $25 buys

8 cups of Tall iced vanilla latte at Starbucks

2 movie tickets (weekend) and a medium Coke

1 (yes, one, as in half a pair) Toms Red Classics

This skirt

A hunk of fancy cheese and some organic strawberries at Whole Foods

The complete second (and best) season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer

2 priceless hours of fun at the Ann Arbor Summer Carnival where your daughter-- you may call her Sophie the Fearless-- went on several rides by herself, including one which involved being in an elevated "helicopter" the whole time. Did I mention that she took that ride THREE times? By herself? Alone? You could not find a happier kid at the carnival that day :)


1. Yes, it went up that high..., 2. She was so excited to be riding by herself, 3. Jumping Jumbos, 4. First ride by herself

What happens in 23 months

Sophie turns 2 in a month.

For some perspective, here's the first video we ever took of her, barely a week after she was born:



And here, countless photos and videos later, is Sophie last week, dancing at Top of the Park:



How did that happen??

Thankfully, not too hair-rowing

After almost 23 months, Sophie has gotten her first haircut. Even though she was born with a full head of hair (see here), by the time she was 3 months old or so, she had barely much to speak of (see here). Even after she turned one, we put hair clips in her hair more as an accessory than for any real functional purpose. So for a long time, we've never had to think about cutting her hair. Until lately that is. In the last month or so, Sophie's hair has really been in a perpetual state of "look-I-just-rolled-out-of-bed" (and you should see her when she really just rolled out of bed...)- sticking out every which way, long at all the wrong places, and wisps getting in her eye even with a hair clip holding her side bangs aside. And with the weather getting increasingly warmer, the long-ish ends at her nape were starting to annoy her.

And so, armed with a glowing recommendation from our dear friend, Amy, we headed off to Larry at A2 O'Hair for Sophie's first hair cut. He was WONDERFUL. He's been cutting kids' hair for years and knows exactly how to deal with squirmy little ones. Even though I was holding Sophie in my lap, she didn't quite always keep her head still. But Larry was like a ninja (or a really light-footed boxer), skipping around and snipping skillfully and effortlessly. At the end of it, even though it wasn't like he took a lot off, he did enough in all the right places. The huge plus: he refused to charge us for the hair cut! Because it was Sophie's first :) Such a sweet, sweet man!

Watch out world...

Sophie wants a bicycle for her birthday. Actually, she's more interested in the helmet and just mentions the bicycle because she figures they come together.

[Trying on bikes and helmets at REI]

She would have rode out onto the street if she could actually move with the bike on her own....

Sophie = Madeline?

Sophie's new favorite book these days is Madeline, both the original story and Madeline's Rescue, all about the courageous pooch, Genevieve. She loves Madeline not just for her daring escapades on the bridge or for her bad-ass appendix scar; there's another big reason why Sophie loves Madeline- she anticipates the one moment throughout the entire story, barely containing her excitement as the twelve little girls ice-skate all over the preceding page...

To the tiger in the zoo, Madeline just said , “Pooh-pooh.”

Sophie almost always erupts into a giggling fit, breathlessly begging “again, AGAIN!!”

[Being goofy at Top of the Park]

I'd like for Sophie to have Madeline's sass and gumption. Just none of the whole falling off the bridge and into the river thing please...

Have you ever wondered how a monster sings "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"?

Wonder no more...

Daddies are for...

Teaching a girl all about Drunken Monkey Tai Chi!

Happy Fathers' Day, Dada!

Random Daily Daycare Report #14

More photos here and here.

Sophie had a really busy and fun day. This morning. she *loved* painting with fly swatters and making the paint splatter everywhere :) Sophie also did a great job with a fire drill this morning. She didn't get upset at the loud noise and marched right out to the preschool fence with her class. She's happy for any excuse to go to the Preschool playground :) Have a good weekend!

"Oh elephaaaaant!"

Sophie's been singing a lot lately. A lot. And anywhere and everywhere- in the car, in the shopping cart, in the middle of dinner, brushing her teeth (yes...), as she's falling asleep, etc. Sometimes it's because I start singing and she sings along but lately, it's more her bursting into a spontaneous tune, and into songs I had no idea she knows.

Like this weekend- we had just driven by the fire station near our house (it doesn't matter where we're driving to or coming back from- we *have* to drive by the fire station each time) and were doing this thing where we pretend to look for different vehicles. I didn't want Jude to miss it and took out my phone thinking I'd just be capturing her playing the game. Then out of no where, Sophie's starts singing her version of "Three Elephants Went Out to Play". They probably sing it a lot in school but I had no clue. Which is why I was so tickled! I'm also floored by the fact that it comes with hand gestures and varying pitch :)



[It's a little soft at parts so here's a rough transcript]

Sophie: Car, where are you? Looking for you...
Me: Who's looking for you?
Sophie: Firetruck looking to you.
Me: Is Sophie looking...
Sophie: Oh elephaaaaant... here he comes, here he comes. Shhh... Listen.
Me: Listen. What?
Sophie: Here he comes!!
Me: Here he comes!!
Sophie: Three elephants went out to play. On a sunny day... Oh elephaaaaant... Here he comes.
Me: Here he comes.
Sophie: Shhh.... Excited. Listen.
Me: Excited. Five elephants went out to...
Sophie: Play. Shhh... Here he comes.
Me: Here he comes.
Sophie: [beautiful smile]

I hope this makes your day, because two days later, it's still making mine :)

C is for cookie

Sophie has finally had her first cookie :) Giving her any kind of baked goods has always been tricky because of the whole milk/eggs/butter business and she didn't even like the vegan cupcake we got her for her birthday last year. It's not something essential to her diet and she never asks for it, and so we don't feel like we need to push this one. I gave her a slice of zucchini bread a couple of weeks ago and she liked it well enough that I felt inspired to find a good recipe (this one comes highly recommended), but apart from that, she's been perfectly happy with her huge snack trove of crackers, pretzel sticks, rice crackers, fruit, and cereal.

But after swim class today, as we wandered around Mark's Carts like we always do, we thought it might be nice to get Sophie a cookie from The Lunch Room, a vegan food cart that we've heard really good things about. That everything is completely vegan meant we didn't have to worry about possible traces of egg or butter in things or cross-contamination even when some non-vegan vendors claim things are dairy-free. We chose a classic chocolate chip cookie-- I mean, if it's going to be her first cookie, why settle for anything less?

Her first bites were a little tentative, like she wasn't quite sure what to make of the texture.

But a couple of bites later, it was like she's been eating cookies all her life:

In the words of our friend, Jenn, it was like she's was drunk on cookie!

You can't really tell, but the cookie was literally the size of Sophie's face, if not larger, and our daughter obliterated it entirely by herself in under 10 minutes. If not for the fact that a crumb fell on my lap, I don't think either Jude or I would have managed to snatch a taste. It was really quite yummy- a little chewy like a oatmeal cookie with a nice molasses flavor. It didn't taste vegan at all and I wasn't surprised that Sophie demolished the whole thing in one sitting (and still had room for her usual post-swim soy hot chocolate after. And all this BEFORE lunch...). Since Sophie took to the cookie so well, I asked Phillis, the owner if they made cakes or cupcakes in anticipation of Sophie's birthday in August. They haven't officially sold any other baked goods apart from cookies and gingersnaps but they have been planning on putting cupcakes on the menu for a while so that's something she can definitely help us with! Yay!

Happy birthday, Dada!

It's hard that we're not celebrating your birthday with you but it helps to know that you'll be back tomorrow! We miss you and love you!

Random Daily Daycare Report #13

1. How much fun do you reckon our little water bug is having?, 2. Just letting the water shoot up her back ;), 3. Sitting "on" the sprinkler, 4. Sprinklers rock!

Sophie had so much fun doing water play today. She walked over and stuck her hand right on top of the sprinkler and got herself soaked! And that she decided it would be even more effective if she just sat on the sprinkler :) Such a clever girl. Then, of course, she went directly to the sand box afterwards.

How to end a vacation

I saw a dolphin today. Leaping out of the sea.

At sunset.

It was beautiful. And special. And I love that I got to share that moment with Jude and Sophie.

Exactly how much fun are we having on vacation?

Just ask Sophie :)

"Sophie airplane... excited!"

If you ask Sophie, she'll tell you that we'll be spending the next four days on an airplane. Flapping our wings. And flying. That's what she thinks "going on vacation" means. It's hard to explain a holiday to a 22-month old, what with all the packing, and going to the airport, and air travel and hotel and stuff. So we just told her we're going on an airplane. And so that's what she thinks we're going to be doing. For four whole days.

We'll actually be on Captiva Island in Florida. Jude has a conference there starting Monday and we thought it'll be nice for Sophie and I to tag along for a short family vacation before that. We'll be staying at the South Seas Island Resort which from what I gather is one of those self-contained vacation locations where you pretty much do everything onsite- beach access, multiple pools, biking tracks, boat tours, kayaking, and all manner of kids activities.


I'm actually really looking forward to this break- to just relax and take things slow and easy. No itinerary, no schedule- just us, the sun, sea, and sand. I love visiting cities-- San Francisco, Chicago-- but this time, I'm ready for something less intense. I just want to hang out lazily by the beach or pool all day, play with Sophie to her little heart's content (I think she has grand sandcastle plans a.k.a Olivia...), unwind in a pretty hotel room, take a nap whenever she naps, and maybe squeeze in a couple of umbrella drinks or two ;)

I also think it might be the first vacation that will make any kind of impression on Sophie. I don't think she remembers much of our summer in the Bay Area or Christmas in Chicago with my family, but I suspect this trip might stick with her for a little while just because in the last few months, she's been really thriving on and blossoming from all the things she's been seeing, hearing, and experiencing. It's like she's going through some kind of exquisite cognitive explosion and we can't wait to see what she'll pick up over the next four days :)

I don't always have to smell nice

As I was singing to Sophie before she fell asleep tonight, she half-sleepily looked up at me and said, “Mama smell nice… Mama pretty.” And I viscerally felt my heart clench a little. Like I literally felt the muscle tighten. It had nothing to do with the fact that our daughter had just paid me a compliment- I don’t even think she knows what it means to be pretty (she learned it from Jude who taught her to say the word whenever he points to a photo of me in our living room); it was more about how adoring she is now of me, and of Jude. At this moment in her life, we are perfect in her eyes- we smell nice, we look good ('nice' and ‘good’ as defined by a 21-month old whose daily wardrobe invariably includes some kind of food stain, spilled juice, and sand), and we do things she wishes she can do- drive, climb down the bed without holding someone’s hand, eat cheese. As far as Sophie is concerned, her parents can do no wrong. To her, we rock.

And it scares me.

It scares me that I’m the model to which another person is looking for how to be a good and decent human being. My every word and action has the power to influence the kind of person into whom she will grow. I must embody all the virtues and characteristics I want her to inherit- compassion, grace, fortitude, wit, gumption, tenacity, love. I want to be perfect. For her.

But at the same time, I don’t want her to think of her parents as infallible. I want to show her that it’s okay not to be awesome all the time, to learn how to fail gracefully and fabulously and to learn from that failure. Sophie should know that her parents aren’t perfect- they get impatient with people who annoy them, they’re not always gracious about losing, and they procrastinate. But then sometimes, it’s our imperfections that make us us. Our quirks are what make us special. And beautiful. She must also realize that to be a good kind soul doesn’t mean smelling and looking good all the time.

I'm not sure what the point of this post is- I guess I want to give these thoughts some form or another for the year 2022. That’s the year Sophie will turn thirteen and undoubtedly go through a sullen, belligerent phase (it *will* just be a phase!). She will, at that stage in her life, invariably think her parents are about as awesome as gnats. Then, I’ll look at this and remember that yes, we really were once the center of her world and that no, I didn’t make it all up.

I'm stealing this from Jude’s Facebook, which brilliantly captures the essence of this all:

And, although I’m confident that I will always think my daughter is The Greatest Thing in the Universe, I’m also all too aware that this feeling will not always be reciprocated in quite that same way or with quite that same enthusiasm that we both enjoy right now.

She won’t always run to my bed in footie jammies.

I’ll only get that particularly noisy and personalized wake-up call for a little while. And, I only get a shot at it once a day. At almost exactly 6:00 AM Pacific Time.

Then one day? I won’t get it any more. It will be gone.
- Merlin Mann

The ice pack cometh

I'm driving home and this is about 2 minutes after we've left Gretchen's House...

Sophie: Oh no! What's happening?
Me: Huh? What? What? What's happening? Are you okay, Sophie?
Sophie: Oh no! What's the problem?

At this point, I'm like, 1) Sophie can say "problem"?? Since when? Yay! 2) Wait, should I be stopping by the side of the road? Is she in pain?

Me: Sophie, are you okay?
Sophie: Lucy fall down! Lucy crying.

Oh...

Me: Did Lucy fall down in school today?
Sophie: Yah. Sophie help.
Me: Did you help Lucy when she fell down?
Sophie: Yah. Ice pack. Lucy crying. Sophie ice pack.
Me: You brought Lucy an ice pack? That's so nice of you.
Sophie: No, ice pack mine. Sophie ice pack.
Me: But Lucy was crying. Did you help Lucy?
Sophie: Yah. Sophie kiss boo boo. That's all. [after a 5 second pause] No Lucy, no ice pack. Sophie ice pack.

So there. Our daughter. The good friend. And the denier and hoarder of ice packs.

As noted by her teachers:

I love Sophie's love of ice packs. This morning, she slipped in the living room, landing very softly on her bottom. Right away, she stood up and said, "Ice pack! Ice pack!" :)

Random Daily Daycare Report #12

Sophie had me cracking up today (what's new? :)) We were in the Railway living room and she and Izzie were hiding in tunnels. I didn't notice her hiding at first until I heard a little voice inside the tunnel saying "Where's Sophie? Where's Sophie?" Then when she came out, she was pretending to be a puppy :) Oh Sophie!

Of trucks and a mini-rant

Can I just say how much I adore the fact that our daughter loves trucks? With a passion. Which is why she was overjoyed at Touch-a-Truck Day last weekend (I know, it doesn't quite seem that way in the photos- right now, I think it's still more a conceptual affection...) Held in the back parking lot of the mall, there were all manner of trucks on site and seeing the sheer display of vehicles, I thought Sophie would pass out from awe. There were two fire-trucks (her favorite!), two school-buses, a tractor, a recycling truck, a (clean) garbage truck, two ambulances, a few police cars, a U of M Blue Bus (which Sophie is well familiar with and loved running up and down in), and a few others I blanking out on right now. But the point is that Sophie was surrounded by trucks and she was just beside herself with glee. She was even patient enough to wait 10 minutes in line (an eternity to a toddler) just so she could sit in the driver's seat of the fire-truck. Like I said, she doesn't look very enthused in the photos, but I think that was more from everyone looking at her (all the parents were just beaming at every kid sitting in there because it was such a thrill seeing how happy it made them) and how dwarfed she must have felt by the fire truck. Until today, all she can talk about is how "Sophie sitting fire truck!" :)

Also (warning: mini-rant ahead), I'd like to also say that on top of being a huge fan of trucks, Sophie also loves earthworms and dinosaurs. With a ferocity I don't think I possessed for anything before the age of twelve. And if that makes people uncomfortable (??!!) because they have some hackneyed notion that girls should only be playing with pink ponies and brushing the hair of dolls, then I feel sorry for their children. I feel sorry that their children will not get to enjoy all the world has to offer them or explore all things that pique their interest just because of their parents' narrow gender stereotypes. Sophie is a child. She is curious, adventurous, and endlessly excited about everything around her. Why anyone would try to curb these natural instincts at such a young age by dictating "gender-appropriate" activities flabbergasts and mildly outrages me. (Okay, mini-rant over now...)

There's a land that I see where the children are free
And I say it ain't far to this land from where we are
Take my hand, come with me, where the children are free
Come with me, take my hand, and we'll live

In a land where the river runs free
In a land through the green country
In a land to a shining sea
And you and me are free to be you and me.
- "Free to Be... You and Me" (The New Seekers)

A taste sensation, a joy, a celebration in a bun

Sophie loves the Pigeon books by Mo Willlems, whether it's the classic Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! or The Pigeon Loves Things That Go!. Her latest obsession though, is Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog!- since last week, it has had a permanent place in our bedtime rotation of books and there have been nights-- like tonight-- where I've had to read it multiple times in a row. There's something about the cheekiness of the banter that Sophie really enjoys, I think and she giggles every time The Duckling makes a wisecrack (or she could just be laughing at the affected voice I use when I read The Duckling's lines). But the funny thing is, I'm not sure how she's appreciating the basic premise of the story when she's actually never eaten a hotdog, or seen one, come to think about it.

Now, not that I'm in a hurry to usher Sophie into the particular world of processed meat in tube form (in the words of Anthony Bourdain), but when we were invited to a friend's son's first birthday party this weekend and were asked to bring something for the grill, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to make an "event" out of this whole hotdog business.

And so before we left for the store on Saturday, we read the book a couple of times and I told Sophie that we would be going to the store to buy real hotdogs for dinner. I'm not sure if she completely comprehended what I said, but she seemed suitably eager and excited. On the car ride to the store, I reminded her that we would soon be just like Pigeon and The Duckling, holding a hotdog in our hands and enjoying how "yummy, yummy, yummy" it would be, and she responded by going "Yay!" and "Hooray!" whenever I mentioned the word hotdog. Okay, so far, so good... We get to Whole Foods and I let her choose the sausage (all-beef) and the buns (honey wheat) and we even contemplated fixings like relish, ketchup, and mustard. But I figured 1) what's a grilling birthday party without condiments?; and 2) for Sophie's first hotdog, we should stick with the plain and pure.

So we get to the party and by this time, Sophie's *really* excited. She's playing with all the different toys strewn everywhere for the little ones, there are balloons galore, she got to enjoy a juice box all by herself, and most importantly, Mama here had promised her a tasty morsel of hotdog just like Pigeon and The Duckling shared! We watched together as as the guy manning the grill heated the sausage up just enough without getting it too charred and warmed the bun up a little too, just to make it just right. I mean, when I put the thing together, it was about the most perfect plain hotdog you can imagine- the edges of the sausage just peeking out the ends of the bun, the bun warm to the touch but not too toasty, and the sausage glistening from the grill but with none of the jarring grill marks. Folks, it was the Platonic hotdog, the kind of hotdog you'd put on the cover of a Coney Island menu, a hotdog that looked about as close to Mo Willlems' illustration of the hotdog in his book as you can envision. I couldn't have done better if I tried.

I showed the hotdog to Sophie with so much fanfare, you'd think I was presenting her to the Queen of England. We found a nice spot on the deck, I sat her across from me, and I reminded her again that we were about to eat a hotdog. She even said to me, "Pigeon! Hotdog yummy!" At that moment, I was so exceedingly proud of myself- I made something Sophie had read real for her! I fused her literary world with her real one! I scaffolded her learning with practical examples! I involved her in the various steps of putting together a hotdog! Everything was totally developmentally appropriate! Who's the awesome Mom? I am! I am! I split the hotdog into two, took a long deliberate bite-- "Aaaaaaaaaah"-- just like in the book, declared it a truly exceptional specimen of a hotdog (it was a little salty for my taste but I wasn't about to spoil the moment), gave Sophie her half, and watched expectantly at her mind about to be blown.

She bit into the sausage, made a face, spat out what was in her mouth, and ran away...

Richard Simmons would be proud

Why is it that our daughter can dutifully-- and happily-- follow the instructions of her favorite PBS characters, but when we ask her to do something-- like clean up her toys-- she pretends she doesn't understand us?

Surprise!

We are available for all your surprise party events at a reasonable hourly rate. Reliability and timing of the talent cannot be guaranteed. Payment in pretzel sticks expected at point of arrival, set-up, and departure. Please note: services are non-refundable.

Mothers' Day means...

Sleeping in till 8.30 because Sophie, who obviously knew it was both a weekend and Mothers’ Day, decided to sleep in herself, giving me almost an extra two hours of shut-eye.

Spending the morning playing hide-and-seek where Sophie's idea of hiding is to crouch in the same corner of her room every time. And she's still always thrilled that I manage to find her (a lot of pretend not-seeing and feigned oblivion is involved...)

Involving Sophie in Sunday morning laundry. It was the load with her clothes which made it doubly fun (on top of being allowed in the basement which she almost never gets to go down into). She successful helped to unload the dryer, although there was a slight delay when she grabbed the crib sheet and blanket she uses in school and tried to take a nap on the basement floor. I would have gotten her to help me separate the colors and whites for our load but she got distracted by a box of her old toys and so that was the last I saw of Helpful Sophie for the day.

Trying on hats at Target. Because that’s what mothers and daughters do on Mothers’ Day. I dare say, we look fabulous- Sophie does anyway.



Doing our own little Mothers’ Day brunch at Panera where Sophie had chicken noodle soup and I had a cobb salad. She happily fed herself so that I could enjoy my salad without fussing over her. So thoughtful, this one…

Watching Sophie fall asleep smiling because she asked, “Mama kiss Sophie?” and I planted two fat ones on her cheek and nose.

Zipping through a chapter of Tina Fey’s Bossypants while Sophie napped. The woman is funny as hell and clearly a wonderful human being. Her ‘Prayer for a Daughter” is itself worth the price of the book. Note to self: must remind Sophie that her parents always painstakingly cut her grapes in half.

Enjoying the afternoon at Gallup Park- pushing Sophie on the swing, helping her fill her bucket with sand to build "snowman" (Sophie's all encompassing term for any structure built with substance found on the ground), guiding her down the big-girl slide by herself, and beaming with pride as she held her own in the sandbox. She was generous in sharing her sand toys but assertive, persistent, and polite in asking for them back.

Missing Jude because even though it’s Mothers’ Day, it’s just not quite complete when Dada is at a conference 3 time-zones away in a different country.

and…

Saying a huge Happy Mothers’ Day! to my wonderful mom, without whom I wouldn’t be half the mother I am to Sophie today :)

Working girl

I started at my new job last month. It’s been three weeks and it’s been going really great. The work is stimulating and challenging in all the good ways-- lots of awesome data to dig into and incredible projects to work on—and the people have been amazingly nice. I even get my own office (with TWO windows no less!) so that’s been sweet. I can almost unreservedly say that I look forward to going to work.

It occurred to me a while ago that I’ve never had a regular 9 to 5 job. Between being a teacher and then a grad student, my days, nights, and weekends constantly bled into each other, whether it’s grading, prepping, reading, analyzing, or writing. But now, because of the secure data I work with that’s stored on the office server, I literally have no choice but to leave work behind when I walk out at 5.30, which has been really nice. So these days, I get to spend nights after Sophie goes to bed catching up on chores, prepping meals (more on that later), guilt-free (relatively) TV, and right now, helping Jude proof-read his dissertation draft chapters.

But there’s the trade-off of course, mostly the flexibility of time. It’s not like I can take a break from grading and go get a haircut, or schedule a dental appointment in the middle of the day, or have a leisurely breakfast with Jude. From the moment we get up in the morning, it’s a pretty mad rush to get everyone ready so that we can drop Sophie off at daycare, and then Jude at school, and then be at my desk before 9.00.

It also means I've had to give my my Thursdays with Sophie. I know it's just one day, and I still have the mornings (no matter how brief), evenings, and weekends with her. But Thursdays have been our special day together for so long that I was a little wistful that first Thursday away from her. Jude takes her these days and I think it's been nice for her to have her Dada all to herself for a whole day. I'm not sure how cognizant Sophie is that her daily routine has shifted somewhat. We used to be able to take our time getting ready in the morning even if it means dropping her off at daycare late-- reading an extra book, rolling around in bed a little longer, singing one more silly song-- or picking her up early because it's a nice day out and then spend the afternoon at the park. These days, we're out of the house by 8 and she doesn't get picked up till 5.30. Thankfully, she loves being at daycare-- loves her friends and her teachers-- and is doing so much good growing that I don't feel as much guilt as I thought I would for keeping her there so many hours a day.

And then there's the working parent conundrum of meals and chores. Between Jude and I, I think we do pretty well in terms of keeping the house clean and neat. Sometimes it takes a while for the laundry to get folded (and let's not even talk about ironing), but hey, as long as it's clean.... Cooking has been a little trickier. Gone are the days of experimentation where I can spend a couple of hours in the kitchen sauteeing, simmering, or stewing. These days, it's whatever I can whip up in 20 minutes like a quick pasta or a steamed/roasted one-dish meal that I prepped the night before. I also try to make large pots of soups over the weekends (miso, chicken and veggies, minestrone, etc) and the leftovers keep really well. Which is also why our freezer has been my new best friend... Of course, we've been eating out or ordering in quite a bit more lately but that's mainly for Jude and I- because of her allergies, Sophie still almost exclusively gets homemade food, even if it means her sometimes getting four different permutations of rice porridge in a week (not that she's complaining...)

It's been an interesting 3 weeks juggling parenthood with a full-time job, and I have newfound respect for people who've been doing this successfully for years. I want to think it's forcing me to be more conscious and protective about how I spend my time- at work, with Jude, with Sophie, even with myself. It does feel a little overwhelming at times, but also strangely rewarding when things fall in place exactly like you want them to (Everyone out of the house before 8! With matching clothes and socks/shoes! No phone calls from daycare! No work crises! Dinner meets daily carbohydrate, protein, and fibre requirements! DVR works so I can watch Modern Family after Sophie goes to bed!).

Sophie asks a question

I'm putting Sophie down for her nap this afternoon- she snuggles into my arms, looks up at me, and asks, "Mama, you happy?"

Yes Sophie, Mama is happy. Sophie makes Mama very happy.

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...]