It's not like I don't know that my child is an actual person. It's just that it surprises me at times. Like, what goes on in her little head all day? What is she thinking about? How does the world look to her? Is it really possible that she has an entire secret life all her own, thoughts I won't ever hear of, feelings I can't share? Don't answer that. I know it's true, but it seems impossible.
The other day, Ricardo was driving in the car with Cali while I was at work. Suddenly, out of the blue, she said, "No not that way! Don't wanna go that way!" When he asked her why, she said "We go this way. We see Cali's house." Baffled, he went the way she pointed, and they passed a house with a For Sale sign, and she announced "That's my house. Grandma's going to buy it for me."
What the heck? Where did this idea even come from? This is not a house we have ever pointed out or talked about, although we pass it often since it is in our neighborhood. Did she get this idea from a book? Something her nanny said to her one day when they were walking by the house on the way to the park or something? Not to mention, the only grandparent she refers to as "Grandma" is someone she hasn't seen or spoken to in months.
Then, the next day, just to see what she would do, he pointed to the house as they passed and said "what's that?" And she said again "that's Cali's house." Apparently Cali's secret thoughts are dominated by real estate ambitions.
And here's another interesting conversation I had with her.
"Mama, what's that noise?"
"It's the washing machine next door."
"Oh, at H an T's house?"
"Yep, at H and T's house."
"Oh, is H's clothes getting washed?"
"Yes, her clothes are probably getting washed."
"Oh no, H is nakey!"
She was unconvinced when I told her I was sure H still had some clothes left to wear. The laundromats in Cali's world must be very interesting places.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Gift
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| From Jul 6, 2011 |
Sometimes life slips one of those days into your hand, as if you've been running your fingers through rough grass and they catch upon a wildflower that you didn't realize was there. A day where you don't have to try so hard to be happy, where you don't even realize you are happy because it isn't a giddy, self-conscious feeling, but rather a simple contented sense of peace.
Remember last year, my manic search for holiday fun? Well, this year's Fourth of July was better. I haven't completely lost my neuroses, don't worry, but I really was able to let things happen much more spontaneously. And we had a really great day. This was in large part owing to our amazing neighbors, who have a little girl exactly Cali's age. To say they love each other would be an understatement. They are crazy about each other. So they came over for a BBQ (and I was even mellow enough to serve nothing but leftovers from the last two days) and then we lit a fire in our fire pit and we roasted marshmallows, and the girls had their first taste of s'mores. They liked them okay, I guess.
After that, we snuggled the girls together in the big stroller and walked out to the cliffs to watch the fireworks. Our city doesn't have a city-sponsored show, so everything is illegal. Usually most of them are shot off on the other side of the harbor, but this year people were shooting them off on our side of the cliffs and they were literally exploding right over our heads. Even I was nervous, and poor little H (Cali's friend) was terrified and sobbing. Cali, usually unperturbed at anything except dogs that might want to lick her (apparently she is unaware that their TEETH pose the larger threat), said nervously "I wanna go home. Let's try again tomorrow." So we left (just as the police pulled up with their lights off and sneaked up on the culprits). As we walked home, the booms faded and the girls calmed down and started enjoying the distant blossoms of light in the sky. Although, I have to say, when fireworks are going off incessantly, it becomes unnecessary to say "that's a firework!" every time you hear one. Even if you are only two and it is really cute the first 200 times. I swear, as she drifted off to sleep with the sounds of revelry still coming muffled through our windows, she mumbled "that's a firework, mama."
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Resolution
Okay, one more list post. (Sorry, guys. I know this is the third one in a row.) I'm not usually big on New Year's Resolutions, because I feel like they set you up for failure, but I'm taking the plunge this year. And I'm going to write them down, so I can look back on them at the end of the year. Here they are:
1) Write every day. My paper journal, this blog, other pieces or one large piece (ahem novel). Doesn't matter. Just write every day.
2) Be more patient with Cali. More deep breaths, less TV. Yesterday I got down on the floor and played blocks with her, and the way she laughed and laughed as we knocked the towers down was better than anything else I could have been doing.
3) Exercise more regularly. I'm not going to commit to one workout regimen, and although I'd love to get back into running 5Ks, I really just want to move every day. Walk, run, ride my bike, hike. If that leads to getting back into serious running, or taking a yoga class, then that's great. But as long as I'm moving my body nearly every day, I'm going to count it as a success.
4) Work harder at maintaining my friendships. Go out to lunch with friends, have people over, call people, don't be a recluse. I'm meeting a friend for coffee today, so it's a good start.
5) Be more accepting of myself. Sorry if that sounds hippy-dippy, but it's important. I want to be more satisfied with who I am, and at peace with what my life looks like day-to-day. That's what this blog, and my other journaling, has been about from the beginning for me. Appreciate the stillness of life, even as it's moving, and remembering to appreciate the roses.
1) Write every day. My paper journal, this blog, other pieces or one large piece (ahem novel). Doesn't matter. Just write every day.
2) Be more patient with Cali. More deep breaths, less TV. Yesterday I got down on the floor and played blocks with her, and the way she laughed and laughed as we knocked the towers down was better than anything else I could have been doing.
3) Exercise more regularly. I'm not going to commit to one workout regimen, and although I'd love to get back into running 5Ks, I really just want to move every day. Walk, run, ride my bike, hike. If that leads to getting back into serious running, or taking a yoga class, then that's great. But as long as I'm moving my body nearly every day, I'm going to count it as a success.
4) Work harder at maintaining my friendships. Go out to lunch with friends, have people over, call people, don't be a recluse. I'm meeting a friend for coffee today, so it's a good start.
5) Be more accepting of myself. Sorry if that sounds hippy-dippy, but it's important. I want to be more satisfied with who I am, and at peace with what my life looks like day-to-day. That's what this blog, and my other journaling, has been about from the beginning for me. Appreciate the stillness of life, even as it's moving, and remembering to appreciate the roses.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Old Year, New Year
The New Year came in in a quiet, melancholy way here in my household. I heard some sad family news on New Years Eve, and stayed at home with Cali instead of going to our neighbors as planned. At midnight we went outside and showed Cali how to bang on a pot with a wooden spoon, but the firecrackers were too scary for her, so we went back inside, where she continued to bang her pot cheerfully.
Despite its sad and mellow ending, there were some beautiful moments in 2010 that I'd like to remember:
The cold nights in early January when Ricardo would bring Cali to me at my midnight lunch break at the ER, and I would nurse her in the car, while the lights from the passing ambulances washed over us.
The February night when I first arrived with Cali in our little apartment in the lemon tree house, which still smelled like the new paint they used in between tenants. The living room was completely empty except for an air mattress, but it still felt like home.
The day in March when Cali turned one. We took her to her favorite place, the "dut park" and she danced around on the grass in a little white tutu.
A day in April, when I was driving along with Cali in her car seat, and she kept saying "uh-oh, uh-oh". I finally realized that she hadn't dropped anything, but was actually singing along with Regina Spektor to "on the radio, uh-oh, on the radio."
Beautiful May days watching Cali learn to climb and slide and swing in the sunshine, when the weather was so beautiful we went to the park every afternoon.
The few nights in June when my best friend came to visit with her kids and we stayed up late into the night talking and drinking wine, and spent the days taking the kids to the beach and the boardwalk.
The night we took Cali to see fireworks for the fourth of July, and the many July afternoons spent watching Cali eat plums and berries in the sunshine.
The August afternoon when the little girl next door came over to play for the first time, and she and Cali fell immediately into friendship, despite certain bickerings over a ball. And the very next day when they saw each other and squealed with delight.
The hot September day we took the girls apple picking, and the way Cali's hair looked so blond in the sunshine.
The way Cali looked so round and fuzzy in her little Halloween monkey costume, and the way she said "ticky teets" so soft and shy.
Cooking turkey and delicious stuffing, ruining a pumpkin cake by putting it in the oven at the same time as the fish, enjoying the wonderful company of our neighbors and friends, and watching the world's worst ever horror movie on Thanksgiving.
Sitting quietly in the semi-dark, with only the Christmas tree lights on, and listening to Cali sing me "twinko twinko litto stor".
Happy New Year, everyone.
Despite its sad and mellow ending, there were some beautiful moments in 2010 that I'd like to remember:
The cold nights in early January when Ricardo would bring Cali to me at my midnight lunch break at the ER, and I would nurse her in the car, while the lights from the passing ambulances washed over us.
The February night when I first arrived with Cali in our little apartment in the lemon tree house, which still smelled like the new paint they used in between tenants. The living room was completely empty except for an air mattress, but it still felt like home.
The day in March when Cali turned one. We took her to her favorite place, the "dut park" and she danced around on the grass in a little white tutu.
A day in April, when I was driving along with Cali in her car seat, and she kept saying "uh-oh, uh-oh". I finally realized that she hadn't dropped anything, but was actually singing along with Regina Spektor to "on the radio, uh-oh, on the radio."
Beautiful May days watching Cali learn to climb and slide and swing in the sunshine, when the weather was so beautiful we went to the park every afternoon.
The few nights in June when my best friend came to visit with her kids and we stayed up late into the night talking and drinking wine, and spent the days taking the kids to the beach and the boardwalk.
The night we took Cali to see fireworks for the fourth of July, and the many July afternoons spent watching Cali eat plums and berries in the sunshine.
The August afternoon when the little girl next door came over to play for the first time, and she and Cali fell immediately into friendship, despite certain bickerings over a ball. And the very next day when they saw each other and squealed with delight.
The hot September day we took the girls apple picking, and the way Cali's hair looked so blond in the sunshine.
The way Cali looked so round and fuzzy in her little Halloween monkey costume, and the way she said "ticky teets" so soft and shy.
Cooking turkey and delicious stuffing, ruining a pumpkin cake by putting it in the oven at the same time as the fish, enjoying the wonderful company of our neighbors and friends, and watching the world's worst ever horror movie on Thanksgiving.
Sitting quietly in the semi-dark, with only the Christmas tree lights on, and listening to Cali sing me "twinko twinko litto stor".
Happy New Year, everyone.
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