Jack is TWO!

Dear Quackers,

Happy birthday! You are two years old today.

Every year (ok, both years so far) as your birthday approaches, I think back to that awesome day when your mom and dad told us that they were going to have a baby. I know just where I was standing in the living room at your house, and just the way your dad laughed when I couldn’t figure out what they were talking about.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been more than two years since that day, but—just like I wrote to you last year—I don’t remember life without you. 

The funniest thing ever is watching you play the guitar. At first your eyes are wide open and then the minute your finger hits the strings, you screw your face up into a perfect mock grimace, and roll your head all around, just feeling the music. Then when you’re done, you open up your eyes and act all normal, as though you weren’t just channeling some long gone rock god.

You love music class and your teacher, Lenka. I have seen countless videos of you sitting on Lenka’s lap during a song. Always you, even though there are many other kids in the class. Lenka tells me that you two have a thing for each other. This much is evident. And the best part is that after you beeline for her and settle in, you stare at everyone else impassively and barely react to the actual song. But when it’s time to dance with scarves or other props, you bring out your finest moves.

I love when you come to our house for family dinner or any other visit. You bounce up and down and smile like crazy, wave your arms, laugh, and say hi in your throaty little voice. “Hi, Dout! Hi Ra Ra! Hi Rob!” It is impossible not to smile when you’re around. You are very independent and good at entertaining yourself, and you're not afraid to stick up for yourself if Scout is giving you a hard time. Sometimes the two of you just play quietly in her room with puzzles or books or cook together in the kitchen. 

You will still walk up to any strange man and raise your arms to be held. I’ve seen it again and again. I had a friend over recently, a guy you’ve never met before. You ran into my house for a visit, went straight past me and directly into his arms. Of course, he was utterly charmed. 

There is so much sweetness in you, always. But you are obviously a toddler, quite expressive and opinionated. You revel in telling us all NO, or giving us a withering look to show that you are the one in charge and we are tiresome. A quick game of peekaboo often has you smiling again.

You are really super coordinated and love to throw or kick a ball, and to ride your scooter. It's so much fun to see you run and jump, and to think about the very recent days when you couldn’t get both feet all the way off the ground. Now you can do so many things.

Sometimes you will climb up and ride around on my wheelchair with me. I hold you tight and we zoom around while you wave to everybody. And I sneak lots of kisses from your chubby cheeks, because you are my very favorite boy.

Love,

Ra Ra

Mustang Sally

Grandi Girl

Dear Scarlett,
Yesterday was your last day of school. You were in the Grandi class at La Scuola this year, the second year of preschool. In August, you will be in Grandissimi. We keep talking about "next year" at school, as though it isn't a mere two months away. And you will be attending two different camps this summer, two weeks at Children's Day School, where they have a little farm with chickens, and four weeks back at La Scuola, where they will focus on music, science, art and cooking.

When we said goodbye to the teachers at school, some of them were sad (Suela and Betta, specifically, because they won't be back next year.) Some of the parents were sad, too, since they feel like their kids are growing so fast. It's hard for us all to believe that you will be the big kids next year, when we still see you as our babies.

You have been cracking me up lately. Pops was here this week and he was determined to play catch with you, even though you have zero interest in that activity. We went to the park and you two tossed a tennis ball around for approximately 38 seconds, after which Pops came up to me and said, "Catch is over, because she's taken the ball over to those trees to find it some more magic powers." Yes, that sounds about right.

Even if catch is not your thing at the moment, you are a physical kid. You've started taking Hapkido classes, and I basically laugh the whole time as you and your squat little friends yell, "Yes sir! Thank you sir!" at your teacher, while wearing fabulous white uniforms.

You've also become quite the chef. Your specialty is spinach quiche, a recipe that you have adjusted slightly each time, not--I don't think--in an effort to improve the result, but because it is so much fun to crack eggs and add cheese to things (like your mouth.) Despite this culinary development, your favorite food still seems to be chicken nuggets. Or maybe it's ketchup, but either way, nuggets are involved.

You and I read James and the Giant Peach last month, which was really fun. I thought it might be kind of scary and/or boring for a 4-year-old, but we read 40+ pages at a time, and you never wanted to stop. We then read Henry and Ribsy, and we're overdue to get to the library for some more chapter books. Your love of books seems to equal your love of TV (Team Umizoomi and Octonauts) and movies (Frozen, Alice in Wonderland, Up, and Tinkerbell.)

It is your opinion that you should get to watch videos every day. Dad was in France all week, and we were so happy to see him when he got home yesterday afternoon. You hugged him tightly, then turned to me and said, "Time for videos?"

We've been in our new house for 4 months, and it is truly awesome. I love waking up here, love spending my days looking at the ocean and listening to music outside with you. The only problem is that we've had mosquitoes, and they have brutally attacked your cheeks in the night. I think we've figured out some solutions, but you might want to consider taking your face into the woods to get it some magic powers.

Love,
Mom

May Updates

Dear Scarlett,
Last weekend we were in Los Angeles to hear Uncle Rob's band ScreamCreature open for O.A.R at The Troubadour. It was amazing, and I wish that you could have been there to see your "Runcle" on stage in front of hundreds of people, rocking like the rockstar that he is. Instead you were at the hotel, trying to convince the babysitter that it was ok for you and Jack to watch a TV show. Dubious about your claims, she texted Shishie, who told her that no, it was not ok. NICE TRY.

We had a great time on our trip, going out for brunch and hanging poolside during the day. I was not a big fan of LA when I first traveled there for work, but when Rob and Shishie moved there, I started to like it a lot more. It was fun to be back, even for a quick trip, especially because the plane ride was so short and manageable. It was the first time I'd ever traveled with a wheelchair and I was a little nervous about how everything would work out. But it turns out that the airport people are way better at handling a woman in a wheelchair than they ever were at figuring out how to deal with me and my walker. Sometimes they treated me like they thought I was practicing for a part in a play instead of actually struggling with mobility. So it ended up being a very successful trip on all counts, as I'm sure you agreed from your window seat, where you watched Dora and ate snacks.

This month you started taking a martial arts class called Hapkido with a group of boys from your class. "Is me going to be the only girl again?" you asked yesterday as we rolled from school down the street to the studio. You've become very aware of dynamics like this, and have been refusing to get in the pool at swim class, because the other girls haven't been showing up, leaving you the only swimmer. This bothers you immensely, my little social butterfly.

Hanging out with my friend Sarah last night, I had an epiphany that someday you're going to need to write a memoir to try to work out everything you went through with your sick mom who shared a ton of personal information about you on the Internet. And that memoir will be called "Watch Out for the Wine Glass." It's not the sentence you necessarily hear the most in our house (I'm thinking "I love you" or "Why aren't you wearing pants" are uttered at slightly higher frequency), but I'd be lying if I said you didn't hear that one quite a bit. So, there you go. I've titled your memoir. Be kind to me in it.

I love you,
Mom

School Days

London Bridge

Dear Scarlett,
At some point early in the year, we were reading one of your National Geographic Kids books (thanks, John Lalor!), and you discovered the fun fact that the London Bridge of falling down fame is now located in Arizona. This prompted a short discussion of the location of the United States in relation to England, and a much, much longer discussion of whether or not the London Bridge actually fell down.

It did not. We looked it up on Wikipedia (source of all truths) and discovered that the bridge was taken down when it looked like it was not going to hold up to all that traffic in the 1800s. This, in turn, sparked an art project.

And a continuing obsession with EVERY VERSION of EVERY SONG containing the words London Bridge. This includes many lullabies and nursery rhymes, but does not stop there. Fergie has a song called London Bridge. It contains a parental advisory warning. A band called Mindless Self Indulgence has a song called London Bridge. It contains a parental advisory warning. You refuse to heed these warnings.

I do realize, given that they are parental warnings, that I am the one who's supposed to enforce them. But I figure this is a decent lesson in music genres. You also like a country version, a "Dora" version, and a really lovely one by the Slovak pop singer Miro Zbirka.

Last week, we took a spring break road trip to Indian Wells, California. During one leg of our car ride, you sang London Bridge so loudly that Dad and I could do nothing but look at each other and laugh. You had a fabulous time going down the water slide at our hotel, and screamed random words as you came down each time. "DORA THE EXPLORAH!" seemed to be your favorite. "I love how much fun she's having," one lifeguard observed.



You were on a fry and ice cream diet by the pool, which was fine with me and Dad, because we were on a margarita diet. A good time was had by all, but we also all discussed how excited we were to get home and be in our new house.

"I miss my bed," you said.

"I miss the deck," I said.

"I miss the floor," you said.

Vacation seemed to continue when we got home, since the weather in SF has been awesome. The grill is set up, and Dad has immediately taken to his new role of Grillmaster. Last night over burgers, you requested background music. Guess what it was?

Love,
Mom

Birthday Girl

Thanks to Darren for the amazing photos!

An Overdue Update

Dear Scarlett,
Yikes, it's been a long time since I wrote you a letter. As usual, there is just a lot going on, and I'm spending more time living life than recording it. But I want to do both.

We've been in our new house for a month now, and it's still under construction. Every day around 8am, the doorbell rings and the workers file in. There are tilers, deck builders, glass installers, plumbers, electricians, cabinet makers, and painters. You and Dad leave for school and work, and the workers and I settle into our day. I know them all by name, and I'm honestly going to miss them when the house is done. It will seem awfully quiet. On the plus side, I won't have to put on pants.

For the past several months, I've been very busy with your school fundraiser. In the weeks leading up to the March 8 event, it truly became a full-time job. I really enjoyed doing it, especially being on a team with some wonderful moms from school who have become good friends. And the event was a huge success, raising lots of money for your school! But it was also exhausting, in a lot of ways, and I'm glad that it's over. Now I can focus on all the things I've been neglecting. Like writing and showering. Just kidding. Showering is overrated.

The house is looking great. We were out on the deck last night, watching the sun set over the ocean, and it was so peaceful that I didn't really worry all that much when Dad found an open switchblade lying on a pile of wood planks. I also didn't really worry that the fence is not done, and with one wrong move, any of us could have fallen over the edge and landed on the house below ours. The reason for my calm is that you are nearly four years old, and you understand rules and safety better than ever before. You continue to get more helpful and to be a better listener. It's a huge relief. I mean, I'm not sure I trust that you'd know what to do with a switchblade, but that's probably a good thing.

Your birthday is on Sunday, and we'll be celebrating at the Randall Museum with a ventriloquist and his crow puppet. Seriously, just typing that creeps me out. But I've been assured that it's a perfect show for your age group, and you will be invited onto the stage during the performance, which will no doubt be hilarious.

Dad and I are having a difference of opinion regarding your birthday party. When he turned 4, he was allowed to invite 4 guests to his party. You invited 41. I have endured jokes about it being your quinceanara, your coming out party as a debutante, and your wedding. Nothing will deter me from throwing you a rocking party, though. ROB.

This weekend we went to Tahoe with Leon and his family, and the two of you had a great time skiing while the grown-ups (Leon calls us "growing ups") relaxed in the 70 degree weather and tried to spot you coming down the mountain. There is something so incongruous about watching your child ski while you are sweating in a tank top. It's been a weird winter. And an absolutely awesome one.

Love,
Mom

My Baby

Dear Scarlett,
You got a hair chop this month. You've been asking if you can get your hair cut short, "LIKE A BOY. LIKE DADDY." And I pushed back because I don't think that would necessarily be the best look on you. So, we compromised (which, as an aside, is one of your new favorite words, as in "Come on, let me have another cookie. COMPROMISE.") You got several inches taken off of your curly locks, and now you go around telling people you have a hairstyle like a two-year-old. Every day, you ask me if it's still short.

There's been a lot of regression in your behavior since your cousin Jack was born, and I think wanting to look like you're two is part of that. When Jack throws food, you throw food. When Jack bangs on the table, you bang on the table. When Jack drools, you actually drool. And when Jack wears baby clothes--which he does all the time, because those are his clothes--guess what? You wear Jack's baby clothes.

In many ways, though, you're such a big girl. You're so good at occupying yourself with books and toys, making gigantic castles and towers with your MagnaTiles and wooden blocks. You love to play music on your keyboard. You dress yourself every morning, usually in amusing combinations of layers, which is very San Francisco of you.

I got a wheelchair on Monday, and I'm still adjusting to that fact. At first, I was very unhappy that I needed it, but then you and I took it outside and went around the block together. We rode in circles through our courtyard as fast as we could, laughing, and practically draining the battery in the process. You pointed out to me that it was the first time in a long time that we were outside alone together. You said that it was special. And it was.

Love,
Mom

New Year

Dear Scarlett,
Happy new year! We spent our holidays in Chicago and Anderson, Indiana, and got to see tons of family and friends. Christmas morning at Nonnie and Pops' house was a blast. You and Jack opened a gazillion presents: Magna-tiles, art paper, Legos, books, and--your favorite thing--footie pajamas. It's all you asked for every time we discussed Christmas. And they even had a detachable hood! Bonus. Although we already lost the hood. So, unbonus.

In Anderson, we had a beautiful memorial for Uncle John. There were photos and videos, fireworks (too loud for you), and Chinese lanterns (only some of which ended up setting fire to the trees in the backyard.) The police were not called, and everything ended harmoniously. We listened to Aerosmith, Joan Jett and Tom Petty. Uncle John would have loved it, and I am super annoyed that he wasn't there. You played with Meadow and Layla, two of Aunt Jamie's other nieces, and just generally loved being in a house packed with great people. (I think I counted that 18 of us were staying there at once.)

School started again today, which is why I'm able to sit down in front of the computer for the first time in what seems like weeks. I LOVE SCHOOL.

Dad and I didn't make any New Year's resolutions this year. I just want it to be a good year, full of work and play. I really mean that part about work, I've realized that I absolutely need projects to keep me busy, lest I go out of my mind sitting home alone every morning. Luckily, I have more than enough to stay occupied.

We're moving next month, which is beyond exciting. We're so ready to be in the new house, though it suddenly feels like there's a lot to do before the big day. For example, where exactly are we going to put all of our STUFF? The house is not huge, and to really set it up properly, we need the right kind of furniture, none of which we currently own. Lucky for you, this is not your problem, although, fair warning, you might find that some of your bigger toys have, um, disappeared, once we move. There are a lot of commas in that sentence.

I think 2013 was a better year than 2012, and I'm hoping 2014 is even better. It's funny to say that, because in some ways, things will definitely get harder. I need to get a wheelchair, and that's a psychological step I'm a bit nervous about. Physically, though, it will be really great, much like when I got Fiddlestick, my purple walker. But I'm looking forward to so many things this year. You will turn 4. Jack will turn 2. We'll enjoy the house, with its fire pit and ocean views. And I plan to do more writing, one of the things that makes me happiest.

I imagine you will continue to say and do hilarious things, which I also look forward to.

I love you,
Mom