A Letter From Your Mother on the Occasion of Your 8th Birhtday

Dear Clio,

What an amazing girl you are.  At our fourth of July celebration tonight, I heard this from all sides.  You sat down with my cousin Julie and had a conversation about, among other things, whether you would choose hands or feet, if you had to choose just one.  Julie said your answer was thoughtful and reasoned, like you had been mulling this for a while.  (You would choose hands, for the record.)  Later, as you were going to bed and I said good night on your last night of being seven, you said, I'm so glad that my last night of being any age is a night of fireworks.  See how wise you sound already?  Fireworks are just the way to end each journey around the sun.

This is the year you fell in love with bike riding, "nature" walks, and exploring.  You aren't allowed to cross streets on your own yet (soon!), but you just ride around and around the block and make it an adventure.  You have a secret picnic spot, way on the other side of the block.  You have made friends with all the dogs.  Once, you didn't come back for a while and I went looking for you.  You were sitting with some adult neighbor in her yard, just getting to know her and patting her dog.  She seemed unfazed by the fact that you are about the size of some 6 year olds but out making friends on your own.  The other day we were at Molly and Mike's house, and afterwards you told me I already explored the whole upstairs.  It's just bathrooms and closets!  When we suggested that perhaps it was time to widen your exploration zone and let you cross streets, you lit up like a Christmas tree.  Like a firecracker.

You are full of quirks, most of them quite charming.  You open presents my fully removing each piece of tape, as if wrapping paper was a precious commodity.  You prefer to wear monochrome outfits: pink and pink, blue and blue.  You will only wear short sleeves with shorts or long sleeves with long pants.  To solve the problem of in-between weather, I bought you some 3/4 length leggings.  You said, but Mom, I don't have any 3/4 sleeve shirts!  Your clothes must be very fitted to be comfortable to you, no drooping necklines, no boat necks.  You are specific.  You are also going through a literal phase.  If I say wait a minute, you start counting to 60.  You love to catch me in my generalities and correct me.  You also say "literally" all. the. time.  At least you use it correctly!

Reading is your superpower.  You are currently obsessed with the Warriors series, books about warring cat clans.  You love all magical notions, and tore through The Familiars, Tuesdays at the Castle, and the first 4 Harry Potter books.  But you are also reading Black Beauty (Nonny's old copy) and you took Oliver Twist with you to Grandma and Grandpa's this week.  Not a children's version, either: the real Dickens.  You know something funny, though?  You had a reading test at the end of the school year, and when the paper came home with scores, the blank where the score number should go was filled in with words, instead.  They said: "refused test."  That was a surprise.  I took you to see Ms Angela, the head of school, to arrange to take the test again.  You know what?  You refused the second time, too.  We finally agreed that you would take the test and we would celebrate by going to the book store for a new book (Warriors series 2 book 2, if I recall.)  But your teacher had already had you do some reading out loud, and though she told you it wasn't the test, it was.  And of course you did great.  You tried to get me to buy you the book anyway.  When I said no, you went and bought it with your own money.  (You often preface questions like this with, "I think the answer will be no, but..."  You are delighted when I do say yes.)

You have refused other things, too.  This is interesting, and perhaps the first time that I am a little stumped about what to do with you.  On the night of your dress rehearsal for your dance recital, we discovered there were sections of your tap dance that you just chose to skip.  The song was Girls Just Want to Have Fun and you were meant to improvise "being girly" and you wouldn't.  It's stupid, you said.  (For the record, I agree, but that is not the point.  We have been trying to express to you that there are some things you just need to do, you can't always pick and choose.)  Then, in piano, when your teacher introduced the pedal, you refused to try it.  For two weeks in a row.  You know why?  Because it is stupid, or so you said.  All of a sudden, we saw this pattern emerge.  It's like how you have always been with having your picture taken: you might possibly participate under the right circumstances (read: bribery), but you are not going to like it.  With dance, we missed the school carnival for practicing the morning of the recital, but you ultimately went on stage and just stood there for those sections of tap that didn't agree with you.  With piano, I gave you a choice to learn all the tools or quit lessons.  You gave in and gave it a try, and man did you look relieved when you came out of that lesson.  Pleased, even.  I hope you will feel the same way when you make good on our deal to give tap a real try next year.  It takes a lot of energy creating barriers for yourself.  I know: this is another one of those things I wish we didn't have in common.

What strikes us the most about this new pattern, and why I am dwelling on it here, is that it seems so out of character.  Generally you are jovial, compliant.  You ask permission for nearly everything.  You can be counted on to do what needs doing, and to do it quite happily.  So when you dig your heels in and dig deep, it is a little baffling.  I try to find the thread that connects these refusals, and I think they are all about expressing yourself.  I was thinking the other day about why I write these letters, and when I will give them to you to read.  When you were little, it was really to capture you in a fleeting moment, one that you would have no memory of (and frankly, my memories fade too quickly now, so putting it down meant giving you those baby days for when they are lost to me, too.)  But as you get older, and we get into times you will remember yourself, I think it is more about offering a perspective on who you are--on who you have always been.  I know, of course, that this is my perspective, and that ultimately you will be the one who needs to know yourself.  As I approach 40, I realize that this--know thyself--is a lifelong quest, and one with occasionally sticky terrain.  So I may give you these birthday letters--these snapshots of you-- at 16, or 13, or 21, or some age that doesn't sound like a milestone but where you are getting lost (we all do), in hopes that these loving words can help bring you back.  Not to me, but to yourself.  Last year, it would have been hard to imagine that that place exists for you, but now I know it will.

You did an assignment at school sometime this year called The Geography of Me.  I think you were asked to respond to a series of questions, and the one that grabbed me by the heart was "I am ashamed of being shy."  We don't think of you that way.  We think of you as social and happy and gregarious and charming.  There is, of course, nothing wrong with being shy, but I am so saddened to think that this is how you are identifying--that element of shame.

So, Clio.  My birthday wish for you this year is to embrace this learning process.  It's hard, I know.  And trying new things can be scary and uncomfortable.  But I hope you will find a way to bring your natural joy to most things, and give the rest a fair shake.  All of this is part of determining who you are.

We love you so much,

Mommy

Kindergarten Graduation

Translation, considering the noisy background at just the wrong time:

My name is Eleri Ruth Peterson
I am 5 3/4
My favorite Montessori Work is reading and math
My favorite Kindergarten memory is when Teague came in to the room
When I grow up I want to be a painter artist.

Birthday lists

Hard to believe another set of birthdays is upon us!

Here's what the girls are wanting:

Clio
The Warriors, New Prophecy Books 3-6, by Erin Hunter
The Warriors, Power of Three Books 1-6, by Erin Hunter
"Good Books"
Legos (not kits, loose blocks)
Zinkies (train and plane sets)
"Surprise" My Little Ponies (available at Target)
Schleich animal figures (she does not have most of the jungle animals)

Eleri
Lulu's Mysterious Mission by Judith Viorst
Magna Tiles
Our Generation Horse--large size
Our Generation Doll outfits and shoes (available at Target--any 18" doll clothes work, including American Girl)
A dreamcatcher
My Little Pony Equestria girl dolls
Stuffed Giraffe
Friendship bracelet kit (the embroidery floss kind)

Both
Art supplies and craft kits

Questions From Eleri

In her last birthday letter, I mentioned that Eleri is FULL of questions.  Of course I  couldn't remember any good ones at the time.  I am trying to capture the ones that really stop me in my tracks or make me think, this kid really sees the world.

I will try to add as I remember.  A short beginning:


Mom, how old is this road?

How did the first trees grow?

Is a turtle slower than a sloth?

How fast is a koala bear?

Are teeth made of bone?

When you get older do your fingers get pointy?

How many layers of skin do you have: seven?  Or nine?

What Clio is wearing these days

Yesterday, Clio wore this exact outfit.  Two different people told me she looked "just like Audrey Hepburn."  At the suggestion of one of them, we looked it up.

Christmas Lists

It's no secret that I have pretty much abandoned this blog completely.  After years of trying to find a new way to post more conveniently, after much guilt, I am finally at peace with it.  At the same time, there's something nice about the forum, ad the place for record-keeping.

And what better record to shine light on our lives than a list of wants?

And so, for Christmas 2013, you have requested the following.

Eleri
- Our Generation collection horse (the big one--you have the small one)
- Walking Talking Pinkie Pie
- Sofia the First doll
- Zinkies cake set
- Black Turtleneck and socks
- China cats
- Princesses with crowns
- My Little Pony Castle
- FurReal walking cat
- gloves

Clio
- Zinkies coral reef
- Black socks (because you like to wear all black and your white socks are cramping your style)
- China animals
- Schleich farm animals
- Gloves
- Ice skates
- Swim lessons
- A flower pot for planting seeds
- Bike helmet
- Scotch tape
(you go through a LOT of tape.)

A letter from your mother well past the occasion of your 5th birthday

Dear Eleri,
This letter is long overdue.

The idea with these letters, of course, is to offer a snapshot of who you are as you pass the annual milestone, as you complete another journey around the sun.  But as you get bigger, become more you, there is so much I have to say that it is challenging to write two birthday letters in one week, especially when that week involves two (or more) birthday parties.  Last year, Clio's was late.  I suppose that makes it your turn.

The once nice thing about the lateness of this letter is that I have thought about it nearly daily, which means that I have had my eyes and ears open to YOU daily.  The less convenient thing is that you are not the same kid today as you were on July 9 of this year.  You are taller and slimmer and have shed the last of the "babyness" that children carry up to kindergarten.  You are a kindergartner!  You went to day camp for the first time, you know how to play Hot Cross Buns on the piano (or keyboard, as you are bound to correct), you started dance class, you got (much needed!) glasses.

But here is how I was going to start this letter back in July, if I had written it down.

Dear Eleri,
You are a hard nut to crack.
On our vacation in South Dakota, our friend Justin said "when Eleri looks at me, it is like she is thinking 27 questions, some of them in languages that have not yet been invented."  He said this and I thought: exactly.

You do ask a lot of questions, my love.  You want to know everything.

At your 5 year check up, they tested your eyes.  They sent us to the eye Dr.--do not pass go, do not collect $100--and we discovered that you are extremely far sighted.  You are a +8!  some glasses-wearing friends tell me that this means you have been living in an impressionistic painting.  After we got your prescription we went immediately to pick out your glasses, and you were very definite about the process, but you wanted to try them ALL on.  Then Daddy and I went to a wedding and you went to Grandma and Grandpa's and you came back too late to make it to the store to pick up the new glasses and it kept getting delayed and I was so worried.  How is she navigating the world when she can't see?  I thought.  Of course, you had been doing just fine all along, but all of a sudden, knowing that the world was different through your eyes, I worried.

When we finally did go to Owl Optical to pick up your glasses, you were VERY excited.  Julie put them on you and you turned around and ran to the door.  It was so unexpected!  I don't know what that was about really--were you trying to see outside?  To look at the sky?  Did you think you were done?  That it was time to go home?--but then you came back to me, and you put your hands on my cheeks and looked straight in to me in that way that you can, and you said, "Mama!  Mama, your face isn't blurry."  And I nearly burst in to tears right there.  You rarely call me Mama.  And just to think...

This is part of your being-5 story, and I think how marvelous it must be, in a way, to see the world clearly for the first time when you already know so much about it.  I wish I could understand that change, and when we first got your glasses I looked through them, thinking that what I saw through your glasses was the same as what you saw without them; but of course this is not true.  I wish I could know the world you see.  Maybe when you are older you'll be able to tell me.

But this is not all of your being-5 story.  You were shy.  You used to take a long time to warm up, and I wonder if that has actually changed now, or if I just think it has.  And if it HAS changed, I wonder if it is because you are 5 now, older, or if it is because you can see clearly around you the faces of people who want to know you, to be your friend.

At the back to school Ice Cream Social, you wrote on your "goal fish":  Make a new friend.  And then you set this wish free in the river of the library bulletin board.  I hope you will make new friends.  You are introverted.  Ms. Christine stopped doing show and tell in your classroom, but in the spring she would make special exceptions for you.  If you wanted to put yourself out there in front of the class, her answer was yes.  Even when you wanted to "show" a toy--against the show and tell rules.  You are still close with Adele, but we don't hear about her as much anymore.  I think she is a lot of work for you.  Your teachers say they are glad of the friendship for her sake, and their sake, that you help them a lot.  But that they hope you will make other friends,  for your sake.

You are so capable.  So capable, but not always willing.  You have little jobs now, and though you are an excellent folder of napkins, you often resist putting them out at mealtime.  You are motivated by the big pay off.  I can't get you to sit and read Step Into Reading books, but this morning in the car you were sounding out Secrets of Droon.  You like fine, detail work.  Finger knitting, "real" knitting," embroidery, bead work.  In South Dakota, we saw scientists carefully removing silt from fossils.  This very close, slow, fastidious work, and I thought, that's something you might do.  You have tremendous patience (until you don't) and focus (it can still be very difficult to get your attention when you are engrossed), but you also can get very frustrated.  You still deal with that frustration physically sometimes, and I'm no longer the only one who bears the brunt of it.  You hit your sister, too.  Lately, you stomp your foot a lot, hard.  Daddy has been suggesting karate, and i think you might be ready.

You want to take the harp, too.  Last winter I asked if you wanted music lessons (I am always asking this.)  "Yes, please," you said. "I think I'll play the harp."  The harp!  Naturally I thought it was passing fancy, but last week you asked again.  Clio's piano teacher is looking for a teacher for you, but in the meantime you play a lot of air piano in the back seat, and Clio has proved to be quite a good teacher.

What else can I tell you?

You are still quite funny.  You have always had good comic timing, and it seems to be something you won't outgrow.  You still love sweets, and now you have learned that it's funny if you just say "SUGAR!!!" when someone asks what kind of dessert you want.  You love leopard print all of a sudden, and chose matching corduroys, shirt, and dress, and looked for shoes, too; you wear it all with a leopard coat and hat and it is quite a sight.  You continue to be stubborn and resistant.  There were many tears this summer when daddy taught you to ride a bike.  But here's the thing: you learned to ride a bike!  You are still willing to snuggle with me (though not always), still JUST small enough to curl in my lap with my chin on your head.  Tonight, I picked you up upside down in your towel after your bath, and cradled you up, and after you stopped laughing, you said, "I'm a baby!"

You are not a baby anymore kiddo, but you will always be MY baby, and boy, do I love you.

Eleri noodle, we love you oodles and oodles and oodles.

Love,
Mama.