Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Friday, June 20, 2014
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
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
Friday, May 9, 2014
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
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
Monday, May 5, 2014
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
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
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
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
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
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
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