One Last Field Trip

Since this was a holiday weekend PLUS Clio's birthday weekend and, quite likely, her last weekend as an only child, it seemed like a good idea to do as many special things as we possibly could. We've been thinking about going to the Children's Museum of Manhattan for ages, but it's way up on the Upper West Side, and between the anticipation of traffic nightmares and parking woes, we never quite got up the gumption. But a Sunday morning on a holiday weekend is the perfect time to breeze into the city, so off we went.

In a way, the Upper West Side is a whole other world, and I felt a little bit like an anthropologist exploring a foreign culture. First of all, the museum was PACKED. (This is one of the problems with New York City: there are 11 million people here, and whenever you have a really good idea for an activity, it seems like about 1 million of them have the very same good idea.) Interestingly, half the crowd didn't speak English. The other half spoke a LOT of English, shouting out their kids names over and over again. Dave and I made a pact to cross any name we heard in that place off our list. Luckily, Audrey and Chase were never on our list in the first place. Beyond the shouting, we were also surprised to find that the parents were in fact much more of a problem than the children: they blocked other kids from slides, bridges, and puzzles, having eyes only for their own precious little ones.

I've also noticed that people are much fancier uptown. (Okay, so this is nothing new: Billy Joel famously sang about it, etc. etc.) Today, I noticed it especially in the high volume of patent leather and metallic footwear: pink patent clogs on a new mom, black patent wedge heeled espadrilles on a grandma, and every shade of silver, gold, and bronze sandal you can imagine. Dave and I were not only decked out in Target and Old Navy, but we were both wearing Birkenstocks. How very outer borough.

Anyway, the museum itself is kind of a nice place, though we really only made it to one exhibit. Can you guess what it was? Why, yes, Dora the Explorer. Clio was beyond thrilled. Here's a sampling of photos that speak for themselves:

Breaking News

This morning, Clio requested pants.
And she meant it.

Perhaps our days of "no pants, only legs" are in the past?

Oh, you thought there might be some other "breaking news"?
Not a chance.

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

Dear Clio,
You are two years old today. It amazes me how grown up you can be at just two: how communicative, opinionated, loving, and funny. Today was quite a day. We went to pick up our vegetables at the playground, and Daddy took you on the swings. You sat in his lap on the big-kid swings and shouted "Mommy, look at me!" so the entire neighborhood could hear you. Daddy took you to the Y for Gym and Swim; you loved it, but by the end of the hour you were a "hot mess," and when I came to pick you up I could hear you wailing in the locker room. I hear you're the best swimmer in the class though, even though you're the youngest: with a floatie on your back, you can swim all the way across the pool, "by all yourself." You are determined, that's for sure. You swam across that pool again and again to get to the steps, because you wanted to climb up and down them. You're determined not to wear pants these days, and sometimes you'll pretend to have a poopy diaper, just to get stripped down. When you don't want to go to bed, your new trick is to ask for milk or water after the stories have been read, the songs sung- the first few times, I almost fell for it, concerned as I was that you could get dehydrated in this heat. When you want to hear a book again, you plead "just one more times," and when you want more of a snack but someone has told you no, you'll reduce your request to "just a tiny little bit?" These tactics may be manipulative, but they are charming, and the often work. You are more clever every day.
You are also more and more adventurous. We've been going to the playground every day after day care, and you are popular with the bigger kids. You wave and say hello to everyone, and really, who could resist that? You tip your head way over to the side when you so it, and your voice is very sweet- clear and high. There are two third graders at the playground, Jessica and Rajri, who try to take care of you (they tell me that I should not let you suck your thumb because the playground is dirty; that you are two small for the ladders), but really you just want to do what they do, and so you can be found swinging from the bar above the slide or climbing right up, no matter how slippery its silver surface. You also try to emulate Marco and Isabella from day care. You love to chase Marco around the sidewalk, and you an Isabella have quite a time screaming together (I'm not sure who picked it up from whom.)
There's a downside to this screaming, too. You are two in every sense, and lately that also means stubborn and occasionally tantrum-prone. You can't decide what you want (milk or water, to wash your hands or not, to get in or out of your high chair; you want to call people on the phone but not talk when they pick up); sometimes I think it's not about the thing, you just want to get what you want, even if you yourself can't quite keep track of what that is. It's confusing, navigating this world and all its various boundaries, isn't it?
You can also be impatient, or quick to judge. At the zoo yesterday, you quickly declared "No fishies," but then went on to spend much of your time circling back to the aquarium. Today, we gave you a scooter for your birthday (you always pick them up at the playground); you got on it once and said "I can't do it." You put a second foot on and fell over, and cried. I think you would eventually have loved it, but this time we gave in and got you a bike instead. You're warming up to it, although you'd rather push it than ride it.
This is one of my favorite things about you right now: you want to be the one in charge, the one taking care of things, and because of this you are going to be an excellent big sister. Once the initial shock wears off (I fully expect the same impatience or quick judgment of this new sibling who will change your world), I know that you will be as caring and loving as any big sister could be. I know this because you push your animals around on the mickey plane, and lay out a blanket in the new baby's cradle and tell me this is where your brother-sister will sleep. I know it because you rock your baby doll in her own cradle and sing her Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, just like I sing to you before bed. And I know it, too, because I got you a Dora balloon for your birthday, a balloon as big as you, and as much as you love Dora, when I tried to put her in the infant car seat to get us all home, you screamed "no! that's where my brother-sister sits."
You will be an excellent big sister for many of the same reasons that you are an excellent daughter: your easy, big-hearted laugh, your spontaneous hugs and kisses, the way you frequently sing and dance when you're just walking across the room, how often you say "and me, too" in your quest to participate, to try new things, to help.
It is amazing how much of a personality you have already, how you are so very much yourself; as your mom, it's so much fun to watch you grow into yourself a little more every day, with every task, encounter, or conversation. It may not always be fun that I'm the one you need to test things out on, but I think I can take it. And I know how much your dad and I look forward to watching you become yourself, through whatever you may have in store for us. Know that we will always try to do what's best for you, but give you the freedom, when you're maybe just a little older, to help us figure out what that might be.

Love,
Mom

Happy Birthday from the Duggans

Brian and Maud really know how to do birthdays. Not only did they send Clio an adorable wood cradle for her baby Stella (great for a 2 year old, perfect for a 2 year old about to become a big sister), they also left a message singing happy birthday. I put it on speaker phone and it completely delighted miss Clio.

Then, to add to the fun, they emailed us a "making of" video.

Here's Brian, Maud, and cousins Finn and Lucia making their birthday tribute.

Staten Island Zoo; or, Still Waiting

Lately, Clio loves all things water. Swimming is her very favorite activity, she loves to stomp in puddles, and washing her hands has become an obsession reminiscent of OCD. This morning, thinking about fun things to do on a holiday weekend when you're stuck in town waiting for a baby to come along, Dave offered her two choices: The Aquarium or the Zoo. She chose the Aquarium. Twice. She also chose the "fishies" and the "ray," the latter of which I think Dave was bringing out to scare her off the aquarium (remember the last trip?)

But Dave took no stock in this answer, and we went to the Zoo.

So where did we spend most of our time there? In the aquarium, saying hello to the fishies. The big fishies and small fishies and mommy fishies and baby fishies, and the big green fishy who opened his mouth "like this" (at which point Clio demonstrated the open wide, pop closed, open wide rhythm of the big green fish.) The Tropical Rainforest and Jungle are both branches off of the central aquarium, and we kept bringing her in to each, thinking she'd really want to see the "cats" (leopards and servals) and monkeys, but she kept circling back to see the fishies.

Outside, she was content to watch the river otters for quite some time, which makes some sense as they are excellent little swimmers.


On our way to the Kiddy Korral, she even stopped for quite a while to check out this empty pool of water,

which was, apparently, much more interesting than the bantam chickens and rabbits that were right behind her. (She did, eventually, with some coaxing, give them a chance.)


She also had a heck of a time feeding the ducks, but we didn't capture that on film.

The Kiddy Korral is basically a petting zoo, where you can buy rye crackers to feed the goats, donkeys, and llamas.

The animals were hungry.


Clio thought it best to get herself up above their reach, letting Daddy do all the work while she observed.

I think the very best part of her day, though, was washing her hands in this industrial sink.

Unlike at home, where she needs to stand on a step stool, she could walk right up to this thing and get to the soap "by all myself," and reach down into the basin for splashing.

We had to tear her away.

Incidentally, if you're wondering how I'm doing, well, I'm still waiting. As we were leaving, another mom passed by and we exchanged smiles. Then she said "looks like you're going to have that one before you leave the zoo!"

(To be fair, I am wearing a broad horizontal stripe shirt which emphasizes the fact that I am 41 weeks along, and counting.)


As for her comment? Well, no such luck. Dave is now really interested in having the kids share a birthday, so we're going out for lobster tonight. It worked on Clio!

Outfit of the Week; or, A Chip off the Old Block

This morning, Dave was upstairs getting Clio dressed while I made some pasta for her lunch. He called down to me, "If Clio picks out the outfit, do I let her wear it, no matter how bad it is?"

Yup. Yup, you do. Especially considering the battles that surround getting dressed as of late.

"It matches in a way," he called. "I had something much more matched picked out, but she didn't want it."

For those of you who knew me oh, 30 years ago, you'll see that Clio has picked up my penchant for "matching" patterns by scale or color. I've discussed this in these pages before, but this is a truly excellent example. Despite the fact that red and peach pretty much clash under any circumstances, somehow the matched scale of the graphic pattern makes it work.... more than other selections I could have imagined.

Clio came down the stairs "by all myself" and said "look at my pants, Mommy!" Yes Clio, I see.

Some Action, but not of the New-Baby Variety

I broke bedrest on Sunday to attend Isaac's birthday party. (I've found that I can do about one thing a day, whether it's a trip to the midwife, a mani-pedi, or a party, and then it's back to the couch.)

Clio has really embraced the whole party thing, and with all the perch babies turning 2 between late May and early August, it is high season. The best thing about these parties, for me, is the chance to catch up with friends from my Mom's group. At Isaac's, in particular, the pregnant contingent was in effect, and it was great to see Stephanie and Jennifer, both due in October.

For Clio (and apparently Dave), the best thing about these parties is other people's toys. She and Dylan practiced sharing while cooking in Isaac's Kitchen, and she and the Daddy checked out Isaac's great little armchairs. (Do you think I could get her a chair of her own already, or what? I think this subject has been topped in regularity on this blog only by references to Target.)


I'm not exactly sure what happened to Dave's balloon there, but Clio got to take one home as a favor.


It was quite a feat getting it to and from the car without losing it, as Dave and I were NOT allowed to help; as of today, it is a withered little ball on the floor, which she continues to insist on smothering with love and affection. This morning she was sort of biting it to make the most awful sound. I guess we needn't have worried about the trauma of it popping- this thing is resilient! Dave drew the line at bringing it to day care. At least from there it may not have made it home!