2016 Christmas lists

Eleri:

Big ticket items:
need need need need need

 need need

 IPOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lego set: Ragana's Magic Shadow Castle
Lego set: Queen Dragon's Rescue
American Girl Ice Cream Cart
Furreal friends Torch My Blazin Dragon
Limited Edition Shopkins 40 pack
fitbit

More reasonable requests:

Diary with lock
Sparkly and metallic markers
Art kits
Shopkins supermarket playset
Other Shopkins sets

Clio:

AG Himalayan Kitten
AG Enchanting Winter Outfit 
Dungeons and Dragons Figurine- Female Archer/Mage, Small
           Dungeons and Dragons Figurine- Hellcat
Notebook
Sketchbook
Pipe Cleaners
Craft Supplies From Michaels
Hand-Held Pencil Sharpener
Pencils
Three-Hole Hole Puncher
Lego Elves Crystal Mine
Beanie Boos;
              Squeaker- Gray and Pink Mouse w/ Cheese
               Freeze- Black and White Penguin w/ Hat
               Wise- Tan and Black Owl w/ Scarf
                Fluffy- Pink Lion w/ Very Large Mane

A Letter From Your Mother on the Occasion of Your Seventh Birthday

Dear Eleri,

You are certainly definite about things.  You always have been--I don't know why we think you're not.  We're always asking, are you suuuurrre?  Are you suuuurre?  But guess what?  You're sure.

You recently decided to cut your hair short.  For several days I asked if you were certain.  Finally you said to me, I am cutting my hair short.  Here are my reasons:  It will be easier to comb.  It will be cooler in the summer.  And it will grow back in the winter, like sheeps' fur.  Like wool.

I mean.  There's no arguing with that.  I guess the thing is:  I am not sure.  You know your mind but sometimes you get blurry around the edges for me.  Like how I think of you as little, but if I really look, I will see that you have grown tall and lean.  That your legs are long and you just might be gaining on Clio is the height department.  (People often think you guys are twins.  Isn't that funny?  We think it's the glasses.  And the exact-same-colored hair.)  But apart from that, you are opposites.  I'm sure I've written of it here.  You eat dessert first while Clio saves the best for last.  She's up with the sun and you drag yourself out of bed at the last possible moment.

(fast forward to December!)

I could go on forever with the opposites.  You have a major sweet tooth and Clio prefers savory.  In piano, you are musical while Clio is technical.  When you started at your new school this fall, Clio joined every club under the sun and you whittled back to the minimum.  (We let you quit dance, but not piano.)  I think you knew yourself well enough to know that everything you had would go to the transition.  To all of that NEW stuff.  This is what amazes you about me, about the sureness:  at seven, you have tremendous self knowledge, and like your father, you are true to you.  Your goal is not to please others.  This is a gift I hope you keep.

Things get muddled when I write your letter in two halves.  It's like these overlapping snapshots, like a double exposure (now that's a reference you will likely have to look up!)  This summer was hard and I got way behind.  So now I am writing my memory of your seventh birthday more than the moment itself.

For your birthday party this year we went to the paint your own pottery place again, an independent one in Northeast, where they also make all the mugs for the Renaissance festival.   You painted tiles, flat tiles that can be used for trivets.  We have continued our tradition of letting you design your cake, and this year it was yellow cupcakes with chocolate frosting and your name spelled out across them.   For your Biggest Gift you for an American Girl Just Like Me Doll, and we went to the store together to pick out blue glasses, like yours.  You were pretty awed by the store (even though you went there with your Dolly and Me camp and bought a dalmatian puppy with your own money.)  This is something I love about you: big feelings.

Of course, that works both ways and there are challenging feelings, too.  You get VERY frustrated and you are still grinding your teeth.  (It drives daddy crazy.  I had to look it up to reassure him that you won't wreck your teeth.)  Piano frustrates you.  Having to change gears too quickly frustrates you.  Bedtime frustrates you, and being bored, and ending screen time.  You LOVE your screen time.  All your grandparents have ipads now and are more liberal letting you play then we are.  You are really good at Temple Run and you love playing Minecraft.  You continue to prefer being home and inside than anywhere else.  You spend hours in your own world.  When you do want to connect, I love that you are still like a little girl.  You still willingly hold my hand and kiss me on the lips.  You still snuggle and sit in my lap (in fact, you constantly wriggle into my lap when I am at the computer).  You are also learning to navigate being a bigger kid.  You finally decided that you wanted your own room, and we surprised you with makeovers after a week at Grandma's this summer.  When you came home, the first thing you did was write a sign: Eleri's Room: Keep Out.  I reminded you that you might want some access to Clio's room (which was, in fact, your room too, for a long time), and you changed the sign.  Now it reads, Eleri's Room: Welcome!  And it still hangs there.

I've been thinking about writing another one of these letters, about your transition to Lake Country, but I suppose it makes more sense to bring it up here.  You were not happy about leaving Bright Water.  (It was a lot to ask, we know.)  You cried the first day when I dropped you off.  But when I picked you up three hours later, you were a different child.  You were your delighted self.  A while ago, the difference between your two schools came up in conversation, and I asked you which school you preferred.  "Lake Country," you said (to my relief).  I asked you why, and I thought you would say because of Art.  Or Gym.  Or the Land School.  all of those "extras" that we are all enjoying.  But you said, "because I get to make my own work plan."  This is partly the power of Montessori, but mostly, I think this is all you: my independent girl.

I have a hard time finding the pace of these letters once I have lost the original thread.  These are moments when I feel terrible, shortchanging you, but one thing I am trying to learn myself is a little perspective.  Then I pat myself on the back and instead of thinking, Oh, I'm so late with Eleri's letter!  I think, isn't it wonderful that I am leaving my girls this record of their childhood?  And I hope that's what you take from it: my love and awe of you.

Know what else?  Next year, I'm writing your letter first.

Love you so much, my Elly-Belly.

Mommy

Christmas Lists 2015

Here we go again with the wanting.

Clio:
Top top desire: a pet tiny turtle (small, green, and male.) PLEASE!

Toys:
- Zoomer kitty
- My Little Pony pop kits (any--they are available in-store at Target.  Like this.)

EDIT: Clio asked me to add these things on December 22, with a note that reads "I know it's kinda late but please do it anyway."

Calico Critters babies--preferably red panda, deer, hopscotch rabbit or cottontail rabbit, but any would work.  (ed note: I don't know if those are real calico critters options, or wishful thinking.)

Marbles

Shopkins

Lil Live Pets mouse and bird

Science kits (all available at Creative Kidstuff)
- Weird and wacky contraption lab
- Candy chemistry
- Secret Formula lab
- Big bag of science
- kids first chemistry set

Books
Rick Riordan, Heroes of Olympus Series, books 1-6:
- The Lost Hero
- The Son of Neptune
- The Mark of Athena
- The House of Hades
- The Blood of Olympus
- The Demigod Diaries
How to Train Your Dragon Series, books 6-12
The Mysterious Benedict Society And the Perilous Journey (book 2)
Erin Hunter Warriors series, Dawn of the Clans books 4-6

Eleri:
Top top desire: Calico Critters Cloverleaf Townhouse.  PLEASE!
(there may also be a less deluxe version, minus the "gift set.")
Calico Critter animal sets--any animal (available at Creative Kidstuff)
Calico Critter Seaside Cruiser House Boat
Zoomer Zuppies Candy (expensive!)
Monster High Doll
Lego Friends Sunshine Ranch (sold out on Lego.com, may be available at lego store, also on ebay)
Chubby puppies ultimate dog park
Shopkins (any set, available at Target, but she was kind of eyeing this one.)
Littlest Petshop Jet
Diary
Papo figurines Dragons (available at Creative Kidstuff)
Beanie Boos
My Little Pony pop kits (any--they are available in-store at Target.  Like this.)
My Little Pony Canterlot Castle (editor: please no!)

STUFF.

(she made me write that last part.)

A Letter From Your Mother on the Occasion of Your 9th Birthday

Dear Clio,

I find myself telling people that we are in a "golden age" right now.  You and your sister are big enough to meet your own basic needs--you dress yourselves, feed yourselves, entertain yourselves, and you ni particular love to get up on your own and start the day independently.  At the same time, we have not waded into the waters of adolescence, and the emotional pitfalls that come with it.  We have not encountered mean girls.  No hearts have been broken.

I think you are in a particularly stable place.  You just completed your leadership year in Fox Den.  You have basically had the same friends for 5 years (as I was reminded today at your birthday party by a card from Lizzie.)  You are doing all the same camps this summer as last, and you are going into your third year with the same piano teacher.  You got your three year medal at dance (oh, how you have been counting down to that!  And I'll tell you, you LOVE proof of accomplishment.  You recently told me that you want a shelf in your room to display your "medals and certificates.")  I can count on you to do what I ask, and to understand when sometimes our rules are different.  You are (mostly) gracious when I ask you to stay at the table where people are still eating, even if others are already off to play. You are (mostly) kind and generous with your younger cousins.  You have a (fairly) even-keeled temperament, but I think so much of your calm these days also comes from the lack of change.  Change is not your thing.  It's taken me a while to realize this--I always focus on Eleri when it comes to transitions--but as it turns out, YOU would prefer to have things be just how they are.  You are the child who will make someone move if they have unwittingly taken your seat at the table.  You are the one that will re-read book 72 in a series before giving a new author a try.  You are the child who cried when we painted the house, and still refuses to acknowledge the new facade as "your house."  (Though at a point I think this is not about change, it's just your stubborness kicking in.  You are saving face by sticking to it, and oh, my darling, this is another one that you got from me.)

We finally agreed that you could have your own rooms.  You have been asking for years but Eleri didn't want to be alone, so--yup--I asked you to stay at the table, metaphorically speaking.  And you have.  Even when she is the one singing loudly at night and keeping you up.  Now she is ready and we have all agreed, and I had this funny moment where I realized I sort of had things backwards.  I thought you would move into the guest room, but you guys have decided, and it is so clear:  Eleri will move in to the guest room because her favorite thing is whatever is NEW.  Her favorite toy is whatever she got most recently.  And you will stay in your room because you want THE SAME.  You want your twin bed and you want it right where it is.  (You do want to change the color though, which also makes sense.  You want to paint it green--your favorite color; actually, dark green, so it will be like a jungle.  And you know, you were NEVER happy when I chose the pink paint in there, and you were only 4 or 5 at the time.)

So I guess what I am saying is, all quiet on the western front.  (Why do I revert to these cliches and book titles?)  But it will be interesting come fall when everything changes.  On your last day at Bright Water, you sobbed all the way home.  I mean, inconsolable.  (I would be remiss if I didn't mention that before that, in the class skits, you recited "Ebeneezer Bleezer" as an example of end rhyme and man, did you do a good job with the longest poem ever written, even with all those people looking at you.  And Ms. Meghan did remind us, when she gave you your flower and sent you over the bridge, that when you entered Fox Den 3 years ago you could hardly speak your name in front of a group!)

I am pretty certain that you will love Lake Country.  The art classes, the land school, making costumes and sets for the EII play--this is such a good fit for you.  I'm sure you will make friends pretty easily.  But I also understand that, like when we painted the house, we are taking your history away, and that doesn't sit well with you.  I feel guilty that I am making you make this change.  I still remember exactly who was the new kid in each grade (partly because I befriended each and every one of them), and I understand there is comfort in being the one who knows the ways of a place; the one who can have the comforting wing, rather than being taken in under it. When we first brought up the possibility of a school change in February, to prepare you for your school visits, you told us that you would stay at Bright Water FOREVER.  But your position on this has softened, and I think you, like me, have a passion for Bright Water and love that place and want to see it work, for all the incredible kids and families that are there, and for all that you have put into it.  But I think you, like me, understand that this is a change we need to make for OUR family.

Or maybe I am projecting.

Miss Clio.

Cousin Jamie told me yesterday, at the big 4th of July party at Nonny and Papa's, that you are "so astute."  His 12 year old son Joey was in the pool and all the smaller kids were jumping all over him, and apparently he couldn't catch his breath.  Jamie says you put your arms out--the international symbol for stand back!--and told the group that Joey was having trouble breathing.  You noticed someone in trouble, and you immediately stepped in to help, even if it meant getting a group to stop having their fun.  This is (one of the things) that makes you so special.  You're such a good kid.

I was thinking earlier that in a way, I have less to say this year in this letter.  But I think that's good.  No drama.  No pretense.  You are who you are: we just know you better now.

So much love,

Mom

Birthday Wish Lists 2015

Oh, we are in an 18" doll phase, let me tell you!  But there is some branching out.  Trips to Creative Kidstuff help jog the mind.

The top choice big-ticket item for Eleri is an actual American Girl doll.  Here is Eleri's "truly me" doll.

Clio's number one wish is the My Little Pony Crystal Princess Palace Playset.

Eleri's OG wish list:
What a Trek Set
Camping/ tent set (any color)
Various outfits
OG laundry room playset
Salon Chair (any color)
Hair Salon Set

Clio's OG wish list:
Goodnight Moose
(other outfits as well, but that is top choice)

In non-doll territory, both girls:
Beanie Boos (I can tell you which ones they already have)

Eleri:
Playmobil country horse farm with paddock
Mine for Gems kit
Princess figures
Lego Friends Jungle Falls Rescue

Clio:
Gross Me Out Science Kit
Secret Formula Lab
Glowing Crystals rock kit
Squishy T-Rex
Lego Elves Treetop Hideaway
pom-pom monster salon
Felted friends
Erin Hunter, Warriors series: Dawn of the Clans (books 1-4)
Warrior super editions (all, except Yellofangs Secret)
My Little Pony figures

Whew!

A Letter From Your Mother So Belated I can Hardly Name a Milestone

Dear Eleri,

I have thought of this letter often in the many months that have happened since your 6th birthday.  I have thought of it on major milestones: A Letter From Your Mother on the First Day of First Grade; A Letter From Your Mother on Losing Your First Tooth (and Second!)  A Letter From Your Mother at 6 and a Quarter and a wee bit.  Where has this year gone?

Here's where I kind of messed this up:  These letters are supposed to be snapshots in time to chart your growth and development, and of course the "moment in time" I chose is your annual birthday.  You have grown and changed so, so, so much since you turned six last July.  But also, you are who you are.

The way I was planning to start your letter back then holds true today:  You are an artist.  Over the years I have come to understand that artists are not simply (necesarrily) people who make art.  Artists tend to see the world differently.  You have your own lens and I am always surprised by the questions you ask, the things you notice and observe, the connections you make.  Your mind is always going, and there is something magical in your processing; I sometimes wonder if it has to do with your eyesight and how you literally see the world, the transformation from blur and color when you put your glasses on and shapes become things.  t's not just visual, though.  When you play the piano, you are as much about dynamics as you are notes, and I swear you are aiming for the musical, the feel of a song, not the technical.  You sway when you plan.  You dance around the kitchen with ballet arms.  You put together the MOST amazing outfits.  You make paint out of chalk.

I would say you also have an artistic temperament, which, as I say this and know it means fiery, it means emotional, it means unpredictable, the term doesn't seem completely fair to artists as a group, does it?  But you, my dear, are these things.  Fiery.  Emotional.  Unpredictable.  It's mostly that your emotions can turn on a dime.  You will be quietly playing on the floor for hours, and a small disturbance may send you into a brief and inexplicable rage.  (I fear that, in this way, you are so my child.)  You often feel wronged.  Putting your shoes on before you are ready is such a burden.  Lots is not fair.  Your new thing is cracking your teeth when you are sad or angry or frustrated or stressed.  It drives daddy crazy.  I looked it up and saw some horrible pictures of baby teeth ground down, together with assurances that 6 year olds do this, that you should grow out of it, that there's no real harm done.  We'll see.  Do you know you used to gnaw on the spines of board book?  That you chewed up your crib?  (Surely you do: it must be in one of these letters.)

School has been a roller coaster this year.  You were excited to start first grade.  (We always have such trepidation about transition for you, and ultimately you do fine when you know what's coming.  At dance at the beginning of this year, you were shocked to discover that your class was not all the ame students and the same teacher as last year.  The first class you sat behind me.  The second, you sat in the room on your own.  But the third week, you participated, and now you are one of the best students.  You listen.  You do as you are asked.  You remember the counting and the steps.  I digress.)  You were excited to start first grade, but your classroom was a challenging one.  This winter, for the first time, we heard cried from you that you hated school.  You were sick a lot, too, which probably didn't help.  You missed quite a bit of school.  But now!  Now you come home just bubbling over with words for all you want to share.  You just talk and talk and talk, which is kind of a new things for you.  You are being invited to second year lessons, and you LOVE being part of things with the older kids.  The class you are in this year is a new class, and it is transitional--K, 1, 2--and I believe you were placed there to be a leader in your quiet way.  You lead by example, and in the classroom you do your work, you focus, and you share your experiences with others.

I'm trying to think back to who you were last summer.  For your birthday party, we planned to paint our own pottery with you friends, but your July birthday is a challenge and no one could come!  So we made it a family party and it was mostly adults in the pottery studio.  Papa painted a frog.  Nonny made an ugly mug.  Daddy made our butter dish (I wonder if we will still have it when you read this?)  You got to paint two things, because you were the birthday girl.  You chose a dragon first, and then a small cross.  You had recently attended Church Camp and you were interested in God.  On your actual birthday we had some friends from school over to our house, and painted flower pots and played games.  Your streak of designing your own birthday cake continued, and you insisted on six layers and peppermint frosting.  In this, your dad obliged you.

Your wish list included lots of My Little Pony and Our Generation doll accessories.  We got you a huge set of magna tiles and I swear, we could do away with everything but those (and the set of small rubber animals), and you could still play for hours.  You are more into TV and computer games. Your favorite at the start of the year was My Little Pony Friendship is Magic.  Now you love Wild Kratts, Magic School bus, and (ugh!) Ever After High.  You love reading graphic novels.

Eleri, it's 6 am (Clio woke me before 5), and I am so glad I finally sat down and wrote this letter.  Please know that while it took a long time to get it down, it was not an after thought.  I am thinking about you, who you are, how you are growing, all the time.  I love watching you grow and change.  I am always so surprised by you, and I love the things you point out to me, the things I am too busy to see, or that are simply not evident to me in the world as I look at it.  I look forward to glimpsing the magic of your world, of learning from you, every day, always.

I love you,

Mommy

Christmas Lists 2014

Clio has created 7 hand-written copies of this list, which I am sure she is happy to distribute.  But in the meantime, let's use technology, shall we?

All of the following are Our Generation:

Well-traveled luggage set
Doll carrier
Aurora Doll
"You choose"

She also picked out some things at Creative Kidstuff:

Smaland Dog Family
Smaland Rabbit hutch
Giant Giraffe Stuffed Animal
Cavalier King Charles Spaniel

She has also been wanting the 4th series of the Warriors books, all except the first one.

Warriors Omen of the Stars, books 2-6.  Here is the box set.  I'm too lazy to link the 5 books individually.

As for Eleri, if it is very big, expensive, and Our Generation, she wants it.  I talked her down from the (very cool) $90 retro beetle car to the $35 jeep 4x4, but on everything else she is sticking to her guns.

Gourmet Kitchen
Wooden Wardrobe with ribbons
Retro Diner
4x4 car
Sitting pretty salon
Ride in Style scooter (light pink and ivory)
Bunk Bed
Horse Barn Stable and saddle

And some non-OG options:

Alex Tattoo Glitter Party
Alex Ultimate Hair Accessories


For better price points, they do both want OG outfits, shoes, and accessories.

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.

A Letter From Your Mother on the Occasion of Your Seventh Birthday

Dear Clio,

You have reached the Age of Reason.  Uncle Jim (or, as you used to call him, "Him," as in, "Him do it") has been telling me about this since you were born.  Seven is the magical age when children can finally follow logic.  Where they become, literally, reasonable.  In many ways, I have seen this coming for a long while now.  If something is not palatable to you, we can generally just explain it and you will come around.  You love being "in on it," especially when we plan an offensive to get your sister to do something--your sister who is the Child Who Can Not Be Made To Do Anything She Does Not Wish To Do.  Recently your dad decided to stagger bedtime, putting Eleri to bed first.  He called this "The Experiment," and every night you would whisper to us, or sometimes wonder aloud, if we were going to "do the experiment."  You love to be the big kid.  We often find you in the basement playing School.  You, of course, are the teacher, with Eleri and any number of stuffed animals as your pupils.  Yesterday at the 4th of July celebration my cousin Jenny referred to you as a "mother."  You do like to take care of your sister and of other, smaller children.  But then you remind us that you are small, too.  Today at your party you pointed out that you were "the youngest 7 year old there."

Sometimes, of course, you remain unreasonable.  The times when you are beyond reason, I don't always know what to do.  At Eleri's end-of-year celebration in her classroom, you wanted a snack.  It was crowded and I was carrying a big bag and the snack table was right there and at home you can make your own breakfast without even waking us up, you insist on learning to make pancakes and egg salad sandwiches, but you just stood there in that classroom looking at the table and insisting you could not do it.  There was a 2 year old helping himself to pretzels--it was that simple--but you would not budge.  You are capable--while this is obvious, I also can't overstate it, because you are so capable--and yet, for some reason you couldn't do it.

You like to be prepared.  I have learned this, sometimes, the hard way.  Lately you are very happy to try new things, but you need to know what's coming.  the more we can tell you about where we're going or what we're doing, the more comfortable you are.  Just this week alone you went rollerskating and tried your hand at archery.  You're finally biking on your own, and you would like to have free reign of the neighborhood.  One night we went opposite ways around the block, though (I was on foot, you and Eleri on bikes), and when I wasn't where you thought I would be, you got awfully worried.  See?  You were not prepared for that.

You were not prepared for moving up to Level 3 in swimming.  You passed up to it last summer, but we did not enroll you until this spring, and you barely swam in between.  While you had once been excited by Level 3, time passing meant you forgot.  You forgot the expectation but also the excitement, I think.  And I didn't think about what might have happened in the meantime...So you were surprised when we showed up and you had to get in the big pool.  That it was cold.  That learning strokes was harder work.  And you know what?  You just never recovered.  When I got your report card at the end of the session you got all "O"s.  I had to ask what it meant--I was used to check marks (mastered) and slashes (progress).  You know what it meant?  That you didn't even try it.  The weird thing is, there were lots of skills on that list that I know you can do--that I had seen you do.  You love to swim.  But you weren't prepared and you decided to sit it out for 45 minutes each session, for six whole weeks.  Something similar happened with your science fair project.  We forgot to remind you that you were going home with your partner one day after school to work on it and I found you in the office, sobbing, inconsolable.  and that was it: no science fair.

I wish I didn't get worried about this, but I do.  Like at your dance recital.  Not your first--you had one in Boulder when you were three--but I think it was the first that you thought about, that you anticipated, rather than just did.  When the costumes arrived earlier in the year, you wouldn't try it on like the other girls.  I finally talked you into trying it on in the bathroom, but I was afraid when the time came to wear it--to perform in it--you would balk.  I told people when the recital was, I bought tickets, but I also told them you may or may not perform.  This is what's weird about being a parent: is that me protecting you?  Or is that me not trusting in you?  I do want you to be safe, happy, comfortable.  But of course I also want you to push yourself, learn, and take some little risks.  (When you finally read these you will likely be a teenager and I may get that tossed back at me.  But what I mean is:  as people, we need to continually expand your horizons.  But I would hope--no, I expect--that you will be reasonably safe about it.)  I don't think I really believed you would not participate in the recital, but it's true that I just wasn't sure.  And I don't know if I would have made you.  I didn't volunteer to be backstage and this is partly why: while I don't think I am smothering by nature, you do tend to try new things more easily if I am not there.  I think it might just be easier to swallow your fear when you don't see an out.  And I understand that I am an out.

But you know what?  We walked in to dress rehearsal and you took it all in and you asked a lot of questions and then you went up there and you were wonderful.  The night of the recital, you approached the make-up wearing, something you had been adamantly against, as some kind of anthropological experiment.  I took you backstage and you dashed off with your friends.  And from the audience, I was so nervous when your class came on and then so very proud of you.  Because you participated, yes.  But really it was more than that.  It was because you led.  There were a number of parts where someone had to start off a sequence, or literally lead the other dancers across the stage, and your teacher gave you many of these parts.  Because she knew you were a leader.  A teacher. A "mother."  She knew you could do it.

Of course, I did to.  I do too.  But sometimes, as your mom, I get really scared that one of us--you or me, kid--will hold you back because we are afraid to push you forward.

Let's not let that happen, okay?

Now, this would be a good place to end this letter from a structural perspective.  But I'm not going to, because too many wonderful things have been left out, and since I have not been logging here, there's a lot I want you to be able to look back and know.  Like this:

It's nothing new that you love to read, but recently you've taken it to another level.  You have been watching My Little Ponies: Friendship is Magic, and all the ponies get a "cutiemark" when they figure out their talent.  (For the record, this is very silly because of course we have multiple talents.)  But I bring this up because you say your "talent" is reading.  Your cutiemark would be a book.  I would accept this, because you are also an author.  You make books like trees make air.  I can't seem to ring myself to get rid of anything in complete book form, so expect to inherit a tremendous collection of your own work someday.  One of your "summer goals" that you wrote before the end of the school year was to read 7 books a week.  And I mean real books, like the Little House on the Prairie Series, or E.B. White's Stuart Little.  (though you also make premature judgments on books, like Charlotte's Web which you insist you will not like.)  You are also in a book club with some friends from school.  It's pretty darn cute.

You want to be funny.  I can't say you're a natural comedian, but you love to learn and make jokes.  Sometimes we don't get them, but that's okay.  It's fun to watch you build this skill.

You are a fast runner.  You are incredibly graceful when you run, like a gazelle.

You are strong-willed.  You will work so hard at something--like rollerskating--in a way that seems more determined than joyful.  But when you are done, you declare it AWESOME.

You are so creative, and a great maker of things.  Today you tied a cup to the balloons from your birthday to make a hot air balloon for your new "zinkies."  You used tape to tether it to the counter, and experimented with how much weight would hold the contraptions at floating height.

You go through a LOT of tape.

You leave the scissors on the floors all the time.  It makes me crazy.

You are also constantly scavenging cardboard boxes from Nonny to make things.  You created some kind of flying machine the other day with a complicated fuel system made up of fake gems, tiny buttons, and platic beads.  You hauled the whole thing back to Nonny's to do a "demonstration."  When we came home, you said "mom, let's video the demonstration, then we can get rid of this thing!"

Yet the whole taking-your-picture-thing is still mixed, at best.

We planned your birthday party together.  It's fun to see your tastes and ideas develop, and you do get more specific all the time.  You wanted a fruit platter for your party today, but not just any fruit platter: blueberries, strawberries (picked by you, Daddy, and Eleri), red grapes, cherries, and granny smith apples.  No bananas, which is funny because lately you insist bananas are your favorite food and tell me you would like to eat 10 a day.

You change your mind a lot.  I mean, a lot.  And you insist that you have not.  For example, tonight I was trying to hurry you along at bed time and put toothpaste on your toothrush.  But you insisted that you HATE electric toothbrushes, despite being on round 2 or 3 of electric toothbrushes that you absolutely had to have. The fact that you change your mind a lot doesn't bother me--I mean, you are figuring out what you like.  ut the fact that you pretend that you always hated electric toothbrushes?  Pretty infuriating.

I just lost the thread of this going upstairs to intervene in sleep shenanigans.  It's late and it has been a big week and Eleri should have been passed out cold but instead she is keeping you up.  When I came up to get you settled again, you insisted on one thing: you want your own room.

This is one place where you are NOT changing your mind.  So we'll see how that plays out.

So.  It seems that, structurally, I had the big finish in the middle of this little essay to you.  And I suppose I could go back and edit it to put this list at the top and the end at the end.  But I like that these letters to you are unedited.  That they come out the way they come out.  I learn a little something with each one.

Maybe you and I are not in some grand finish place, anyway.  I love our companionable relationship these days.  I'll take it, sweetie pie.

So happy birthday to you.  I love you beyond reason.  And I'm glad that turning seven, entering the age of reason, makes that concept that much more meaningful.

Happy birthday Clio.

Love,
Mom

What We're Making: Potions

It's REALLY DANGEROUS!!!

Perhaps I should not share their secrets.  No eye of newt here, but some green food coloring, cornstarch, bleeding hearts, and plastic beads make for one nasty concoction.

watch out!

What we're making: Simple Animal Masks

these kids can make a million different things with some printer paper and a scissors.

What We're Making: The Daily News

We don't get a paper-paper around here these days, so I'm not sure what Clio's inspiration was.

She created a daily newspaper using her silly sentences board, then had me make copies.

She tied them up and put them in a "newsbag" and delivered them to me, Dave, and my parents when we met them for lunch.  She insisted they each get their own.

One way or another, this kid is shaping up to be a writer.

What We're Making: Pirate Ship

These girls see no end to the possibilities in a cardboard box, and can often be heard begging for them at my parents' house.

I love that this is a ship with a proper mast and a sail made from upholstery batting (scavengers!), and that the ropes are made from gingham ribbon, but I ESPECIALLY love Clio's take on a skull and cross bones flag.

The valentine that wasn't

If you know us well, it should be no surprise that instead of a Christmas card we do a Valentine's card.  Yes, we like that valentines are sweet, and different, and that a card in February stands out from the December pack.

But let's be honest: we also just kinda can't get it together to do one more thing at the end of the year.  I do an entire BOOK, after all.

This year, we didn't even get it together to do a card in February.  While I am a little sad that we did not reach out to friends and family with a little token, and while I am sad that we will have a hole in the chronicles of annual family cards, it is also the kind of thing that once the time is past, you kind of just let go.

Dave and the girls did have this cute idea for a card.  the execution lacked a little and the timing?  Well, I believe they took these pictures on February 14th.

Too little, too late.

But cute, no?  (In case it is not totally clear, they are making a heart with their negative space.  Obvs.)

Some of our past cards are posted on the blog, like 2011 and, well.  Just 2011!