Clio turns 6, in pictures

Eleri Turns 4, in pictures

The Graduate

Tomorrow is Clio's last day of Kindergarten.

On Tuesday, she participated in the flying up ceremony.  (We only just made it: diagnosed with strep and impetigo on Monday, her antibiotics took effect just in time.)

Tuesday evening, at swim lessons, she also graduated to the next level of swimming.  While you have to be 6 to move in to level 3, it is also a skills based move, and Clio's new classes will be longer, and in the "big pool."

That was a lot of growth recognized in one day.  Hard to believe how big and smart and creative and talented this kid is.

Three Years in Three Minutes

Music: "Baby," Devendra Banhart

Dave would like you to know that he chose the music.  Nice work honey!  We make a great team!
Also, happy third birthday to our lovely little one.  I think it's hilarious that you tube chose this still form the middle of the slideshow as the thumbnail, and in it she looks very worried indeed.

Enjoy!

Birthday Cake

I truly can't believe that it is July 6th: where have the days gone?
There are many, many things to catch up on here (will I ever truly be caught up?  Doubtful!)  But for now, there are important matters at hand, like birthdays.  And cake.

For months, Clio has been saying that she wanted a tiered cake with a cupcake on top and an edible dolphin. Not at all specific, right?  To be honest, I wasn't completely phased by this.  The tiers, the cupcake, totally doable.  And disappointment is part of life, isn't it, so I figured I would just toss one of those German figurines of a dolphin on top and say, oh, oops, that Dolphin's not edible.  Silly me.  I know, mother of the year, sitting right here.

Well, this weekend as we prepared to make said cake, we revisited the plans with Clio, and while she had been insisting on that dolphin for ages, she suddenly and inexplicably veered to something easier.  Two layers (not tiers), cupcake, and a cherry on top.  Oh, and hearts on the sides.  It's possible that she has learned another important life lesson here: that reducing expectations also reduced potential dissapointment.  Or maybe she just wanted to let me off the hook.  At an rate, to be SURE we knew exactly what she wanted, we had her draw a picture.  And then through discussion we arrived at that little inset drawing.

And here's the actual cake.

A pretty good likeness, I'll say.

And darn delicious, too.

After sharing some cake with friends and family on the 4th, we enjoyed the cake a second time on Clio's actual birthday, in what is becoming something of a tradition.  (I hope to put a candle in the final quarter on Saturday, for Eleri.  I wonder if there will come a time when this practice bothers the girls, or if it will just be one of those weird things our family does.)

You may notice that the cake says "River."  River is the son of my younger brother's friends, who joined us on the fourth.  The 4th happened to be River's 4th birthday.  When she learned of this, Clio suggested that we include him on the cake, which I thought was awfully sweet of her.

Want to know something weird?  When I took these pictures (above), I got a strange sense of deja vu, and realized that Clio wore the EXACT same outfit on her birthday last year!

What do you think, does she look a whole year older?

Her birthday letter is coming soon.

Flying Up

At Bright Water (and at Lake Country, where I went to school), there is a lovely term for moving to the next level: flying up.  Yesterday was the ceremony, and Eleri flew up from the toddler community to Children's House, which she will transition to over the summer.

As the youngest students in the school, the Toddlers went first.  They all stood on this little bridge while their teacher, Beka (on the left) spoke about the progress they made this year and the kind of work they mastered.  To be honest, I hardly heard a word of it, partly because it was so funny to watch Eleri up there, but mostly because I'm not sure that, for Eleri, the new skills in the classroom are the real celebration.  Eleri take a very long time to warm up to things (and people), and I think after nine months at her school, she's close.  Every morning, Ann, the director of the school, stands out front to greet the children and shake their hands.  Clio is eager to take part in this ritual, and if we happen to arrive as the buses are unloading and Ann doesn't see us, Clio will wait patiently for her handshake.  Not Eleri.  Eleri has not yet decided to shake Ann's hand on any kind of regular basis.  (I think I've witnessed it twice.)  So somehow, Eleri standing on the bridge hand in hand with Ann was more sign of progress to me than anything else.

Each of the teachers (or guides, as we call them) presented their oldest students in a different way, and I think my favorite was the last class of 3d graders.  Their guide introduced them one at a time and had them proceed over the bridge.  The 4th years were waiting on the other side to hand them a secret present.  (This was probably the 4th years' idea, and I love the way montessori students choose to support and lift one another.)  Eleri came to sit with me after her class flew up, so we got to watch this together.

Congratulations, baby girl.  Can't wait to see how you take to Children's House.  I bet by the end of next year you'll be shaking hands without a thought, but if not, that's okay, too.

A Letter From Your Mother on the occasion of Easter

I have such a hard time putting myself into this space, this voice, these days.  I decided I should aim to post at least weekly, that that would feel like I was capturing enough, but something else always has to come first.  The laundry, the dishes, the fact that I am trying to build a business from scratch in my spare time.  Or I'm tired, I want to get off my feet, lie down, escape to the TV or yet another design magazine.  I think about this blog every day.  Wonder if my inability to write here is also an inability to see my girls, how they are.  I took one day off from posting to the other blog: Easter Sunday.  That felt good, but also like a crack in the resolve, like when you are going and going but you sit down and it is sooooo veeeeery haaaard to get up again.  That might be where I am right now.

But girls: I see you.  I sure saw you on Easter.  Clio, you were up first, earlier than I expected, glittery with anticipation.  I told you to see if the Easter Bunny had come, to see if you could find a basket for you somewhere in the house, hoping to buy myself a little more sleep, but you were back lickety split with a pink felt basket in hand.  You ate chocolate for breakfast.  No, wait, that's not true: in a nod to your father, I made you eat a little real breakfast first.  Hard boiled eggs, probably.  And then you had candy, your very first peeps.  The marshmallow is your favorite.  Before all this you jumped up and down by my side of the bed and asked me to open the Tangled doll the easter bunny thought to bring you, and that damn packaging required scissors, so roused I was.  Eleri was still asleep.

When she got up, you helped her find her basket, though really, they were in an easy hiding spot, the exact place Eleri goes first in the morning: the castle.  The castle was on the floor and the baskets were tucked onto its shelf.  Each basket had 1 Rapunzel doll, 1 package of bunny shaped sidewalk chalk, 4 peeps, 6 chocolate eggs, and one chocolate peanut butter bunny.

Eleri, somehow I lost track of you (as I seem to, too often), and you came into the dining room with that bunny unwrapped, chocolate on your face, your hands, your dress, and you looked at me with those big, big eyes, wide with the chocolate bunny, and you said, "mommy.  I love this," all hushed and reverent.  And because this was the cutest thing I may have ever heard, and because you didn't ask, just opened up the biggest treat in the basket first and dove right in, I started to laugh.  Boy, did I laugh.

It upset you.  You left, and I found you in the office, sobbing.  You had thrown the candy bunny on the floor and you were just so upset.  It took a while to get it out of you, but of course you were upset because you thought I was laughing at you.  I wasn't.  Not at you, not like that.  We kissed and made up and I offered you the bunny but you wouldn't eat it.  Not now.  So I wrapped it up and saved it for later.

We spent the morning outside.  The sun was finally shining and we went in the front yard.  Clio, you and I went out first, and you drew pictures.  You drew a dog for the neighbor.  You told me that if for some reason they lost one of their dogs, they could be less sad because they would have this picture from you.  You drew it in the square of sidewalk closest to their house.  You also made a garden full of princess flowers and a row of houses, with ours in the middle (yellow, because you didn't have brown chalk), with an alley that made a big, long, loop, and ultimately led right back to the houses.  I like this idea of a circle alley.  When Eleri came out, you shared your colors nicely and you didn't get upset when she drew on your work--sometimes this really upsets you, and, honestly, she's not always so very nice about it.

We got dressed up in Easter dresses.  Nonny brought them to you a week or two before, and you were dying to wear them.  I didn't get your picture, but while I was getting dressed the two of you held hands and spun circles in the dining room, with skirts flying out just the way you like, Clio's soft floral and Eleri's blue and white stripes.  We went to Nonny's and had an egg hunt.  Eleri, you would find an egg, open it up, examine its contents, and eat the candy, then repeat the whole process.  Clio, you found as many eggs as you could and kept them in your basket, unopened.  Hours later, after almost everyone had gone home, you had Nonny and my aunt Eileen take turns shaking the eggs, guessing what was inside.  Candy, money, or both.  When we ate lunch, you sat at the big table with Finn and Lucia.  You wanted swedish fish, but you were willing to eat your asparagus to get them.

Eleri, you needed to go home.  I don't know if it was just too much for you, all those people, all the excitement, or if you just weren't feeling well (you ended up throwing up the next night--just once.)  I kept telling you just a minute, and you finally announced that you wanted to take a nap.  You never nap--in fact, when a nap is suggested, you specifically say "nothing, never,"  so this made us stand up and take notice.  Daddy took you home, and you dozed on and off laying on him on the couch while Clio shook her eggs.

You girls are so different.  We have known this from day one, but it is more pronounced all the time.  Whenever I offer two choices, you inevitably choose the opposite.  In the mornings, on the way to school, we tell stories.  If Eleri wants Cinderella, Clio wants Rapunzel.  If Clio wants Cinderella, Eleri wants Goldilocks.  I tell you to work it out.  Most days, you do.  And there's no pattern.  Well, except that Clio always goes right for the negotiation: Eleri, if we do my story today we can do yours tomorrow, okay?  But there is no clear pattern in who gives, in who wins.  It is a give and take.

I know we always say we can't believe how fast it goes (I've likely said it a zillion times on this blog), but the truth is, I can't believe how big you are.  I still manage to take pictures of you now and again, and when I see them on the computer, scrolling by in search of a "before" or an "after," I am struck by them.  You are just so tall.  So grown.  It bears noting that Eleri is potty trained.  That Clio is reading.  That these milestones came and went some time ago, and deserve their own posts but may not get them.  I suppose you might settle for this: you are geniuses.  You are difficult.  You are beautiful.

We love you so much,

Mom.

Big Girl Bed

This was almost another second-child milestone that went un-photographed but, at the last minute, I dug up the camera, feeling a bit guilty.

Eleri has been wanting to move on from her crib for ages, but we didn't want to do it in the midst of other big things--bigness, if you will--and we had the move, a trip to Illinois, school starting, visits from Grandma and Grandpa, bouts of strep throat, and so on and so forth. Finally this weekend I was able to dash off and (thanks to my mom and her SUV), bring home a new bed for Miss Eleri.

Frolicking ensued.





I love how much Eleri loves this, the way she announces "MY bed." or "Sleep in my new bed tonight." I love that she's content to stay in it (so far.) I love that, in the morning, I find her smashed against the wall, laid out along the short end of the bed and that she actually fits that way.

I love that, the absolute moment I leave the room from tucking them in, one of them says to the other "guess what?" and then goes on with whatever bit of gossip or joke, as if to signal they are equals now, in their equally twin sized beds. Bigness, you know.

I especially love that, after the excitement died down a little, Clio cocked her head to one side and said, "you know what I think we should do?" What, I asked. "I think we should give the crib to baby Oliver."

This is, indeed, exactly the plan, and for these last days before we dismantle it and help my brother get it to his house, I will look forward to Eleri pointing to it where it still stands in their room, and saying "baby Oliver. Sleep. In it."

Uh oh. I feel something coming on. I think an ode to the Stokke sleep system might be next.....

First Haircut

First of all, I'm going to go right ahead and pat myself on the back: a minor milestone for a second child, and I TOOK PICTURES!

This was actually the second attempt at Eleri's first haircut, and I'm not so sure I took the camera the first time, so I suppose I had the benefit of a second go round. Eleri's hair has been a combination of scraggly and ratty for quite some time now, but last time I got her an appointment at Lollylocks, where Clio has been having her hair done (I know, I put it that way on purpose, just for fun), we walked one foot in the door and Eleri started shaking her head and saying "oooohn," which was "no" before she recently discovered the "n."

At any rate, for a repeat performance, I knew I needed a strategy. The first time around, I went alone, on a busy Saturday. Today, I dragged everybody. Reinforcements. We had the second appointment of the day, so the salon was quiet. My plan was multi-fold: For starters, Clio got into the chair first. The chair, importantly, was actually a car. Facing a TV, which happened to be playing Happy Feet. It was critical that desire build in Eleri, and sure enough, as she watched Clio in the car-chair, she got more and more, well, jealous, I guess. She wanted in. Yes! But, Clio's cut was taking too long, and I was afraid that Eleri would either lose the desire for that coveted seat, or- entirely possible- have a meltdown. So I talked Clio out of the chair when her cut was complete but before her "styling" could commence, and plopped Eleri in.

And you know what? It worked!
For all of 3 minutes, while the stylist sprayed her hair with water (confusing) and combed it out (terrible.)


Do you think I was out of tricks? Dear reader, you underestimate me. I whipped out the fresh-from-Costco twisted strawberry fruit snack and handed it over. An excellent distraction though, for some reason, it made Eleri want to look to the side.

So I stood in front of the Car and acted like some kind of airport ground control, waving and directing and keeping ALL EYES ON ME. Well, that child finished her fruit twist in record time, and I was about to go deep and give her a lollipop to keep her occupied, but, mercifully, the stylist was done.

Of course, Clio still had to get back in the car-chair to get her twisty ponytails, butterfly clips, and glitter (these three items are the reason that Clio will volunteer to get her haircut any day of the week). And now that we wanted her to get down, do you think Eleri was going to relinquish her hold on that sterring wheel? No, she was not. Stylists in kid salons are very flexible people, so ours just put both girls in the car and gamely proceeded to twist up Clio's hair, despite the shrieking from future NASCAR-driver Eleri.


All's well that end's well, and all around lollipops, plus glittered hair, is certainly a well end. (For the rest of the afternoon, Clio kept asking "is there still glitter in my hair?" We assured her that there was.)

Eleri's First Word

Officially:

"Uh-oh" (pronounced a bit more like uh-ah)

How appropriate.

I think Dave might argue this, as he is claiming that her dada babbling is, in fact, her way of naming him.

And even with just one (or two) words under her belt, she continues to be very expressive. To wit: every time my mom came near her over the past 5 days, Eleri would turn her shoulder and grunt in a way that made her intentions very clear: "stay away, person who is not my mom." When I was not around, this cold shoulder went to me Dad, as if to say, "stay away, person who is not my nonny."

She also has a new "feed me" face, where she tilts her head back, opens her mouth wide to expose her gap teeth, and crinkles her nose, and she does a very clear "gimme" sign by opening and closing her fist repeatedly.

On the other hand, the unfortunate shrieking trend has also continued, and much of the time, we don't really know what her problem is. The one clear shriek is the "take me outside, I have discovered that Boulder is a place for the outdoors" shriek, which is often accompanied by banging on the door to the outside.

I looked back to old blog posts and discovered that Clio wasn't really talking at this stage either, but by the October following her first birthday, she has a list of nearly a dozen words; it will be interesting to see if Eleri experiences a similar explosion.

Vital Stats

Check ups today.

Eleri Ruth:
22 1/2 pounds
29 1/2 inches
(apparently most kids go down in weight from 9 months to one year becaue they're so active; not Eleri, she's been working hard to keep up the size of her thighs)

Clio Grace:
First off, let me remark that she has reached the point where we no longer talk about her height in inches, but in feet.
3' 1"
31 pounds (give or take- the scale turned out to be such an ordeal that we had to weigh me (while the Doctor held Eleri) then weigh me holding Clio, then do the math. And by the way, I did not need to know my own number, thanks very much.)

Perhaps I Should Mention

Eleri is crawling.
She figured it out about a week ago, and as Dave puts it, it's not exactly elegant, but she gets where she needs to go. I caught some wobbly action on tape a few days ago, and finally won my battled with Windows Media Player this evening to resize the thing.

Disclaimer: I have a cold. Apologies for the gross sniffling that is much of the soundtrack.



The memory card filled up just before Eleri looked back at me, sat up with her treasure, and laughed. A lot.

Teething

Can you tell Eleri is teething? She's got two teeth on the bottom and the top 2 are on their way. Not sure if the flushed cheeks or the desire to chew anything and everything (including, apparently, CD liner notes) is the bigger tell.


For me, the fact that our ever-sunny, happy baby is CRANKY is the clear giveaway.
Teething is hard, but teething biscuits can help.

Eleri Ruth, 6 months old

17 pounds, 2 ounces
26 inches
75th percentile

Okay, so really you're almost 7 months, but because we had yet another well visit switched out for a sick one, your checkup got a little delayed. Let's see, milestones: blowing rasberries, check. Sitting, or "tripoding," check. "Da da da da da," check. Laughing, double check.

Looking good, kid.

Our Big Little Girls

I find myself playing "How Big is Eleri" lately (appropriate, given the weight scare and subsequent binge eating we've been happy to encourage); and so we have another installment in the "How Fast It Goes" chronicles.

They just keep hitting milestones. Eleri gave rice cereal a try for the first time.
She's not convinced.


Clio can turn faucets on by herself. And off. And on and off and on and off. I missed the shot, but to get the water going in Jim and Missy's guest bath, she actually had to lean into the sink and let her feet dangle above the stepstool. (And I finally got her into some warm pajamas- blanket sleepers have been outlawed, but these polar fleece separates are almost as warm- and so grown up.)

Eleri, too, is getting some action, checking out the exersaucer to develop core strength and motor skills.


And Clio demonstrates How Big She Is.


Very big indeed.