Dear Scarlett,
This is a statement I overheard when Dad was giving you a bath the other night.
Dad: That is a no-no Scout. That's no-no number FIVE tonight.
Dad had been home for roughly 16 minutes. I know that no-no numbers one and two involved you pulling Smokey's tail and laughing at him. I'm not sure what the others were and I don't know exactly what you were doing in the bathtub, but I can say I'm not surprised you were misbehaving. Lately it seems like Dad and I have to admonish you a lot. I don't like telling you no or stop or yuck or please don't do that again. But your favorite games these days involve shutting doors, touching the cat food, putting your hands in garbage, and turning the stove dials. I suspect you are testing us. I'm not sure we're passing.
We're still having a lot of fun with you. It's just apparent that you are no longer a baby and you're beginning to navigate the world in a different way. I love your curiosity and your fearlessness. You will go right up to strangers and say hi, you are incredibly outgoing and funny in music class, and you have become a huge fan of swimming underwater. If there is something to climb on, you will climb it. If there is water nearby, you will rush towards it. Although if there is a leaf or something else defiling that water, you will point at it, yelling "Uh oh." I had to talk to you the other day about how sometimes there are things floating on the water in the San Francisco Bay and we can't really clean them all up.
Yesterday you and I had a french lesson at home. Our teacher Julia came over while I was getting your lunch ready. You refused to sit near her, and when she and I were speaking you whined and clutched at my clothes. You would only sit in your high chair if I sat right next to you, and when I got up to fetch something for you, you yelled at me to "SIT!" I guess we have found something you're a little bit scared of: French. Julia disarmed you slightly by singing Tete, Epaules, Genous et Pieds and at the end of the lesson, you told her "merci."
You have become obsessed with the monitor above your crib and want to talk about it all the time. I'm not sure why--one day, you pulled the cord and the whole thing fell down, and ever since that happened, you constantly look at it and say either "Uh oh," "NOOOOOO" or "Hiiiiiii! Mwah!" It's a little weird, I must admit. You tell me it has "eyes" and a "mouth." I tell you that you're right, since it watches you and tells me what you're doing.
I never really bothered to count your words, because you repeat everything we say. But recent additions to your vocabulary include "yoga," "doggie" and various forms of the word "poop": poopie, poopsie, poopoo. It was only a matter of time, I guess. You like to dress yourself, although this often means that you're wearing Dad's shoes and my tank top (sleeve over your head.) You tried tilapia this week and ate it right up (hidden in your macaroni and cheese, but still...) You love lima beans. You can sit for long periods of time doing puzzles and building things. You have covered our house in stickers "stook-ah." And you will still only nap for about an hour which means I've spent enough time blogging and need to go do something else. Quickly.
I love you,
Mom
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
A Proposal
Dear Scarlett,
Dad and I have been married for 3 years today. Last year on our anniversary, I told you about how we met, so this year, I thought I would tell you about how Dad proposed to me.
Let me back up slightly to say that in 2007 we went to something like 7 weddings. The majority were in New York, but there was one in Boston, so we packed our car and drove up a day early to see our friends George, Donna, Lael and Avery who live in Sherburne, MA. I believe we were still in New York, but way too far from home to turn back, when Dad realized he had forgotten his suit. This was a big problem, as it is generally frowned upon to wear jeans and a hoodie to a wedding, even if the hoodie is a very nice hoodie made of some extremely soft material. Have I mentioned that your Dad is more interested in clothing than I am?
Anyway, Dad could maybe have borrowed a suit from George, but there were some sizing issues, so he went to an Ermengildo Zegna store in Boston and bought a new suit, which he was not super happy about. We had a great time at the wedding and our summer continued. On August 17, we were headed to another wedding in Chicago. I came home from work to find Dad lying on his back across the bed. He looked like he was deep in thought, or just exhausted. I had already packed and our car was waiting downstairs, but I was reluctant to have a repeat of the Boston situation, so I started listing everything I would need for the wedding, to make sure I had packed it. "Ok, I have my dress, my shoes, my earrings, my purse (etc)....what else do I need for the wedding?"
"How about this for the wedding?" Dad said, popping out of our bedroom with a box in his hand. In that box was a ring, and that ring is still one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. An emerald cut, solitaire diamond on a platinum band, all words that I never knew meant anything to me until the ring was displayed in front of me, being offered. Dad didn't actually say any other words, of the "will you marry me?" variety, but I got the point. I put the ring on, we jumped in the car and went to the airport. I stared at it the whole time. We called no one. We were going to be staying at Nonnie and Pops' house that night and we wanted to surprise them with our news when we arrived.
Except we didn't arrive. After hours of delays at the airport, and one rather disgusting dinner of chicken tenders, our flight was cancelled and we were forced to return home. Instead of seeing the family, and going to our friends Dan and Pui's wedding, we had a small party on our roof with New York friends, bottles of champagne and much oohing and aahing over my ring. Which just goes to show that Dad and I can celebrate anywhere, at any time. As long as there's champagne.
We're spending this weekend in Napa to celebrate our three years together, and you are staying home with Nonnie. I think this anniversary will be a wonderful one for all of us, and I am so lucky to have your amazing Dad in my life. We've been together for six years, married for three, and we have a beautiful daughter. What more could anyone ask for? Champagne, I guess.
We love you,
Mom
Dad and I have been married for 3 years today. Last year on our anniversary, I told you about how we met, so this year, I thought I would tell you about how Dad proposed to me.
Let me back up slightly to say that in 2007 we went to something like 7 weddings. The majority were in New York, but there was one in Boston, so we packed our car and drove up a day early to see our friends George, Donna, Lael and Avery who live in Sherburne, MA. I believe we were still in New York, but way too far from home to turn back, when Dad realized he had forgotten his suit. This was a big problem, as it is generally frowned upon to wear jeans and a hoodie to a wedding, even if the hoodie is a very nice hoodie made of some extremely soft material. Have I mentioned that your Dad is more interested in clothing than I am?
Anyway, Dad could maybe have borrowed a suit from George, but there were some sizing issues, so he went to an Ermengildo Zegna store in Boston and bought a new suit, which he was not super happy about. We had a great time at the wedding and our summer continued. On August 17, we were headed to another wedding in Chicago. I came home from work to find Dad lying on his back across the bed. He looked like he was deep in thought, or just exhausted. I had already packed and our car was waiting downstairs, but I was reluctant to have a repeat of the Boston situation, so I started listing everything I would need for the wedding, to make sure I had packed it. "Ok, I have my dress, my shoes, my earrings, my purse (etc)....what else do I need for the wedding?"
"How about this for the wedding?" Dad said, popping out of our bedroom with a box in his hand. In that box was a ring, and that ring is still one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. An emerald cut, solitaire diamond on a platinum band, all words that I never knew meant anything to me until the ring was displayed in front of me, being offered. Dad didn't actually say any other words, of the "will you marry me?" variety, but I got the point. I put the ring on, we jumped in the car and went to the airport. I stared at it the whole time. We called no one. We were going to be staying at Nonnie and Pops' house that night and we wanted to surprise them with our news when we arrived.
Except we didn't arrive. After hours of delays at the airport, and one rather disgusting dinner of chicken tenders, our flight was cancelled and we were forced to return home. Instead of seeing the family, and going to our friends Dan and Pui's wedding, we had a small party on our roof with New York friends, bottles of champagne and much oohing and aahing over my ring. Which just goes to show that Dad and I can celebrate anywhere, at any time. As long as there's champagne.
We're spending this weekend in Napa to celebrate our three years together, and you are staying home with Nonnie. I think this anniversary will be a wonderful one for all of us, and I am so lucky to have your amazing Dad in my life. We've been together for six years, married for three, and we have a beautiful daughter. What more could anyone ask for? Champagne, I guess.
We love you,
Mom
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Da-Well
Dear Scarlett,
This morning at breakfast you were asking for your cousin Danielle. "Da-well? Da-well?" you kept repeating. I had to tell you that Da-well was on a plane, after spending a week with us in San Francisco and earning your unwavering devotion. It was a great week, full of food, wine, football, redwoods, farmers' markets, Napa, the aquarium, and several playground trips. We know Da-well had a good time because she has blisters on her feet.
I am also missing your cousin, and the extra pair of eyes and hands she provided. You have been naughty and full of energy this morning. Every time I looked away from you, you were either in the cat food or tormenting Emma. We took a quick trip to UPS today, and instead of walking next to me like I asked you to, you ran into a Pottery Barn and I had to follow you while holding our enormous coffee machine that was getting returned. Getting you in your stroller and car seat has been a serious workout, and you threw your cereal on the floor at breakfast. Now, after an hour of jabbering in your crib, I think you might finally be asleep. Hallelujah.
I assume when you wake up, you will want to talk more about where Da-well has gone. You are lucky to have such a wonderful cousin. She was loving and patient with you all week. She read you stories, watched you at home while I grocery shopped, and diligently made sure that you did not fall down any stairs, eat any stickers, or lose your stuffed animals on our many walks.
Danielle has a dog named Lola, and you must have internalized this information because although Lola did not come on the trip, you still yelled her name every day. "Wo-WA! "Wo-WA!" You also took a nap hiatus this week, and I think it's because your vocabulary is absolutely exploding. You are, however, still working on your pronunciation. While you can say "bubbles", you do not seem to be able to say "bye" and instead tell everyone to "die" when they leave.
I took you to a French lesson in the park this week. It was my lesson, but I wanted you to be there to hear the language I am hoping you will eventually learn. Except that every time I speak French to you at home, you look at me and say, "No."
Since you are so amusing, I've caved in and started a Twitter page where I am recording the things you do and say. It's a little hard to explain your antics in 140 characters, but we're going to give it a try.
Love,
Mom
This morning at breakfast you were asking for your cousin Danielle. "Da-well? Da-well?" you kept repeating. I had to tell you that Da-well was on a plane, after spending a week with us in San Francisco and earning your unwavering devotion. It was a great week, full of food, wine, football, redwoods, farmers' markets, Napa, the aquarium, and several playground trips. We know Da-well had a good time because she has blisters on her feet.
I am also missing your cousin, and the extra pair of eyes and hands she provided. You have been naughty and full of energy this morning. Every time I looked away from you, you were either in the cat food or tormenting Emma. We took a quick trip to UPS today, and instead of walking next to me like I asked you to, you ran into a Pottery Barn and I had to follow you while holding our enormous coffee machine that was getting returned. Getting you in your stroller and car seat has been a serious workout, and you threw your cereal on the floor at breakfast. Now, after an hour of jabbering in your crib, I think you might finally be asleep. Hallelujah.
I assume when you wake up, you will want to talk more about where Da-well has gone. You are lucky to have such a wonderful cousin. She was loving and patient with you all week. She read you stories, watched you at home while I grocery shopped, and diligently made sure that you did not fall down any stairs, eat any stickers, or lose your stuffed animals on our many walks.
Danielle has a dog named Lola, and you must have internalized this information because although Lola did not come on the trip, you still yelled her name every day. "Wo-WA! "Wo-WA!" You also took a nap hiatus this week, and I think it's because your vocabulary is absolutely exploding. You are, however, still working on your pronunciation. While you can say "bubbles", you do not seem to be able to say "bye" and instead tell everyone to "die" when they leave.
I took you to a French lesson in the park this week. It was my lesson, but I wanted you to be there to hear the language I am hoping you will eventually learn. Except that every time I speak French to you at home, you look at me and say, "No."
Since you are so amusing, I've caved in and started a Twitter page where I am recording the things you do and say. It's a little hard to explain your antics in 140 characters, but we're going to give it a try.
Love,
Mom
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Full-Time Mom
Dear Scarlett,
We are on Day 4 of me being your full-time-stay-at-home mom, although we try very hard not to stay at home. This week we've gone swimming and shopping (new leg warmers for you), ridden a carousel, listened to stories at the library, and visited the ducks and squirrels at Stow Lake. It turns out you haven't seen a lot of squirrels in your life, because you think they say "meow."
It's been a bit of a rough time since we returned from vacation; you were jetlagged and teething. I can't wait until this teething thing is over. Dad and I worried over you every night last week, giving you medicine and holding you while you cried. A couple of times, I tried to bring you back to bed with us, but forget it. Our bed is like a playground to you. As soon as you got in, all memory of pain disappeared, and you just wanted to sing and hang from the headboard. Dad and I were totally exhausted and one morning at breakfast as we just sort of stared at each other, he said, "So. This is what vacation feels like now."
You are finally feeling better and sleep is getting back on track. This has turned you into a much nicer baby, the one who wants to kiss everything. One morning at breakfast, you fed yourself oatmeal with a spoon. You do this frequently, but never quite as slowly as that day. You spooned the oats up individually, and then started kissing the raisins before eating them. It was a long meal. Today when I was holding you before naptime, you kept interrupting my song to kiss me. If you like a book, you will kiss it. If you like a stuffed animal, you will kiss it. If another child tries to hug or kiss you, you announce "NICE."
Dad bought you this absolutely awful Purdue Pete doll when we went to West Lafayette, Indiana to visit his former university. Purdue Pete yells "You're a Boilermaker!" and then plays the Purdue fight song. You can't seem to get the button to work on your own, so you constantly hand him over after each 5-second song and make us do it. Then you kiss Pete ("MWAH!") and dance until he's done.
We've started swim classes again, and you suddenly love them. You've turned into a complete water baby, after time in the lakes of Wisconsin and Indiana. A couple of nights ago, I heard you around 11pm shuffling in your crib. "Wawa?" you asked a few times. I thought you might be thirsty, but you quieted down quickly, so now I think you were just dreaming of the lakes.
It's probably wrong that one of my favorite things lately involves you falling. But whenever you trip or stumble, you stand up indignantly, shake your finger at the floor, and say "NoNoNO!"
The one thing I might change if I had the ability is your nap schedule. You're doing about 40 minutes a day. I have friends whose kids nap for 3 hours. 3 hours! Imagine what I could get done. It turns out 40 minutes wasn't even enough time to clean up the kitchen and write this blog post.
So I'll end here and go get you.
Love,
Mom
We are on Day 4 of me being your full-time-stay-at-home mom, although we try very hard not to stay at home. This week we've gone swimming and shopping (new leg warmers for you), ridden a carousel, listened to stories at the library, and visited the ducks and squirrels at Stow Lake. It turns out you haven't seen a lot of squirrels in your life, because you think they say "meow."
It's been a bit of a rough time since we returned from vacation; you were jetlagged and teething. I can't wait until this teething thing is over. Dad and I worried over you every night last week, giving you medicine and holding you while you cried. A couple of times, I tried to bring you back to bed with us, but forget it. Our bed is like a playground to you. As soon as you got in, all memory of pain disappeared, and you just wanted to sing and hang from the headboard. Dad and I were totally exhausted and one morning at breakfast as we just sort of stared at each other, he said, "So. This is what vacation feels like now."
You are finally feeling better and sleep is getting back on track. This has turned you into a much nicer baby, the one who wants to kiss everything. One morning at breakfast, you fed yourself oatmeal with a spoon. You do this frequently, but never quite as slowly as that day. You spooned the oats up individually, and then started kissing the raisins before eating them. It was a long meal. Today when I was holding you before naptime, you kept interrupting my song to kiss me. If you like a book, you will kiss it. If you like a stuffed animal, you will kiss it. If another child tries to hug or kiss you, you announce "NICE."
Dad bought you this absolutely awful Purdue Pete doll when we went to West Lafayette, Indiana to visit his former university. Purdue Pete yells "You're a Boilermaker!" and then plays the Purdue fight song. You can't seem to get the button to work on your own, so you constantly hand him over after each 5-second song and make us do it. Then you kiss Pete ("MWAH!") and dance until he's done.
We've started swim classes again, and you suddenly love them. You've turned into a complete water baby, after time in the lakes of Wisconsin and Indiana. A couple of nights ago, I heard you around 11pm shuffling in your crib. "Wawa?" you asked a few times. I thought you might be thirsty, but you quieted down quickly, so now I think you were just dreaming of the lakes.
It's probably wrong that one of my favorite things lately involves you falling. But whenever you trip or stumble, you stand up indignantly, shake your finger at the floor, and say "NoNoNO!"
The one thing I might change if I had the ability is your nap schedule. You're doing about 40 minutes a day. I have friends whose kids nap for 3 hours. 3 hours! Imagine what I could get done. It turns out 40 minutes wasn't even enough time to clean up the kitchen and write this blog post.
So I'll end here and go get you.
Love,
Mom
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