Indeed.
And, just for fun, a little flashback to Clio's first Burley run, with her cousin Lucia, not long after her first birthday.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
The Boulder Life
Boulder is crazy for bicycles. In fact, I think cyclists have more rights on the road than cars, and the path system is so comprehensive that you can get from any point in Boulder to any other point on a bike or multi-use path. So naturally, once of the first things we did when we got here was to buy a Burley (a double bike trailer) to pull the girls behind our bikes. Clio, especially, loves it. Whenever we head out of the house, she asks "can we go on the bikes?" She loves it so much, in fact, that this pohoto-phobic kid allowed an entire photo shoot inside the Burley yesterday afternoon, as we prepared to head off to meet my cousin Jesse and his wife Catherine's good friends for dinner (they also just relocated.) Throughout the shoot, Clio made the same exact face, except when she broke to say "Mom, I'm smiling!"
Indeed.
And, just for fun, a little flashback to Clio's first Burley run, with her cousin Lucia, not long after her first birthday.
Indeed.
And, just for fun, a little flashback to Clio's first Burley run, with her cousin Lucia, not long after her first birthday.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
What I Did On My Summer Vacation
I was feeling a little guilty about the wacky summer these girls had: back to full time in Day Care when I was on deadline for my books, squired away on sundays for hours at a time while we held Open Houses, not allowed to touch anything as we attempted to keep the house clean for showings, half their toys packed away, and then--BAM!--a life-changing cross-country move.
So it was great when my parents came to visit not long after we arrived in Boulder. (Don't you just love the hydrangeas outside our door?)
Not only is it fabulous anytime these kids get time with their grandparents, but in this case, those grandparents stayed in a hotel with a POOL, and the girls swam pretty much every day.
Plus, never have there been so many treats: cookies, ice cream, juice, extra snacks, balloon animals on Pearl Street,
new books from the independent bookstore, a toy here and there, etc. Not because my parents are a bad influence, mind you; somehow I used their visit as an excuse to lavish my girls with special treats and favors, to "make up for" "all they have been through." Oh, and I hear my Dad let Clio cheat at Candyland; he claims it's in the rules that small children can put back cards they don't like, in order to "encourage them." I haven't actually checked it out, but I have my suspicions about this one.
The final bonus? My mom and I did a little collaboration on the girls room, and while there are still some details to work out, the place is looking adorable. Both girls particularly love Clio's "Princess Bed, Just Like Elsie's."
So it was great when my parents came to visit not long after we arrived in Boulder. (Don't you just love the hydrangeas outside our door?)
Not only is it fabulous anytime these kids get time with their grandparents, but in this case, those grandparents stayed in a hotel with a POOL, and the girls swam pretty much every day.
Plus, never have there been so many treats: cookies, ice cream, juice, extra snacks, balloon animals on Pearl Street,
new books from the independent bookstore, a toy here and there, etc. Not because my parents are a bad influence, mind you; somehow I used their visit as an excuse to lavish my girls with special treats and favors, to "make up for" "all they have been through." Oh, and I hear my Dad let Clio cheat at Candyland; he claims it's in the rules that small children can put back cards they don't like, in order to "encourage them." I haven't actually checked it out, but I have my suspicions about this one.
The final bonus? My mom and I did a little collaboration on the girls room, and while there are still some details to work out, the place is looking adorable. Both girls particularly love Clio's "Princess Bed, Just Like Elsie's."
Thursday, August 27, 2009
First Day of School- After
Well, we survived.
In fact, she's already on to day two.
Clio still loathes the camera, but Dave did manage to get these (slightly terrible) shots to capture the momentous occasion.
All the way to school yesterday, Clio had me repeat the story of MY first day- about 1,000 times. The way my mom was so worried; how I just walked away and said "bye mom." I thought she might be inspired by my 2 1/2 year old bravery, but no; she contradicted my story and told me that I gave my mom a kiss and stayed with her, and when it was time to get Clio out of the car, there were tears, there was wailing, there was reaching of the arms while calling "mommy, mommy, I want you!" The teacher's assistant just picked her up and carried her away.
And today might have been worse- same scene, just noisier, more impassioned.
I will admit, I don't love the drop-off procedure. Clio's classroom is in its own little building at the outer edge of the campus, and it has a circular drive. You pull in and wait in your car until the Teacher's Assitant, Debbie/ Mrs. Anderson, comes with a clipboard to have you sign your child in, and most parents I have observed just let her get their kid out of the car. It seems strange to me that the moment of transition would happen in the car, which I guess I think of as the child's and the family's personal space, instead of at the door of the classroom; Clio, too, thought it was a bad idea, and would not get out of the car for Debbie. In fact, she cowered in her car seat and her mouth turned down in that very sad pre-crying way. We had to make a deal: I would get her out of the car and give her a kiss, then she would go with Mrs. Anderson. Clio didn't really make good on her end of the deal, and once again was simply scooped up and carried off, with Mrs. Anderson asking, "where is that smile I saw all day yesterday?"
This is just one of those things about Clio: when she's in something, she is fully in it; it's just the transition that gets her. When the head teacher, Mrs. Walters, brought her back to the car at pick up yesterday, she told me that Clio did great, and I was not at all surprised. Maybe that morning transition will smooth out one of these days; maybe not.
In fact, she's already on to day two.
Clio still loathes the camera, but Dave did manage to get these (slightly terrible) shots to capture the momentous occasion.
All the way to school yesterday, Clio had me repeat the story of MY first day- about 1,000 times. The way my mom was so worried; how I just walked away and said "bye mom." I thought she might be inspired by my 2 1/2 year old bravery, but no; she contradicted my story and told me that I gave my mom a kiss and stayed with her, and when it was time to get Clio out of the car, there were tears, there was wailing, there was reaching of the arms while calling "mommy, mommy, I want you!" The teacher's assistant just picked her up and carried her away.
And today might have been worse- same scene, just noisier, more impassioned.
I will admit, I don't love the drop-off procedure. Clio's classroom is in its own little building at the outer edge of the campus, and it has a circular drive. You pull in and wait in your car until the Teacher's Assitant, Debbie/ Mrs. Anderson, comes with a clipboard to have you sign your child in, and most parents I have observed just let her get their kid out of the car. It seems strange to me that the moment of transition would happen in the car, which I guess I think of as the child's and the family's personal space, instead of at the door of the classroom; Clio, too, thought it was a bad idea, and would not get out of the car for Debbie. In fact, she cowered in her car seat and her mouth turned down in that very sad pre-crying way. We had to make a deal: I would get her out of the car and give her a kiss, then she would go with Mrs. Anderson. Clio didn't really make good on her end of the deal, and once again was simply scooped up and carried off, with Mrs. Anderson asking, "where is that smile I saw all day yesterday?"
This is just one of those things about Clio: when she's in something, she is fully in it; it's just the transition that gets her. When the head teacher, Mrs. Walters, brought her back to the car at pick up yesterday, she told me that Clio did great, and I was not at all surprised. Maybe that morning transition will smooth out one of these days; maybe not.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
First Day of School- Before
I had so much to say earlier, as I dropped forms off at Clio's school and took her shopping for a back pack and lunch box. But then I got caught up in grocery shopping and dinner preparation; and I discovered a new job resource for Denver jobs, with a listing for a GREAT job with an application deadline of TOMORROW, so we've been tearing the house apart looking for my external hard drive, which has all of my resumes and pertinent career information on it so I don't have to recreate all my materials from older versions. And I made the mistake of drinking a beer before all of that.
So.
Tomorrow is Clio's first day of school, and while she did go to school last year, it was just two half-days a week, and instead of a simple, straight-up first day of school there was an elaborate phasing-in period that was experienced by me in the blur of maternity leave and the sleep deprivation associated with having a 2-month old. So this feels like Clio's real first day of school, and I'm struck even more then when I first saw her in her new booster seat by how big and how little she is, all at the same time. A few things to note:
1. She tells me she doesn't want to go to school, that when we get there she will say, "No Mrs. Walters, I don't want you!" and that she will close the classroom door and run back to me and get in the car. I think this is just the anticipation talking- I can report back tomorrow.
2. I am suddenly aware, in planning for Clio's lunch and packing it in her carefully-chosen lunchbox, that this is the first time Clio will be declaring herself in a peer-situation. I find myself worrying that Boulder kids and Montessori kids do not carry such commercial items as a Disney Princess backpack (and lunch box, and thermos, and sneakers), and try to reassure myself that Clio's love of the Disney Princesses (despite having never seen most of the movies they star in) is reason enough to embrace her choices. I wonder what other moms pack in lunches, and if Clio will covet her neighbors juicebox, gummy fruit snacks, or cookies; does a 3-year-old understand the idea of individual meals? Mine has been eating the same chicken tenders and frozen vegetables as her peers at day care for a long while now. At the grocery store, I found myself buying things I normally don't - individual applesauce containers, deli meat- so Clio can "fit in."
3. I'm a little sad that Clio will be away from us all day, every day, starting tomorrow. It's been kind of fun to have her around, accompanying me on my various errands, entertaining me in the aisles of Target, causing strangers in my path to smile in my direction when they catch sight of her light summer dress and furry moon boots.
4. Tonight as we did "big day," I told her that when I started school, when I was 2 1/2, my mom was so worried that I would be sad and want to stay with her, but that, when we got to the school, I simply let go of her hand so I could wave to her, said "bye mom!" and walked cheerfully into the classroom. My mom was so distraught my this, she says she just stood there, sort of whimpering, "don't I get a kiss?" When I finished the story, Clio asked me to tell it again; I agreed that I would, tomorrow, on our way to school.
So.
Tomorrow is Clio's first day of school, and while she did go to school last year, it was just two half-days a week, and instead of a simple, straight-up first day of school there was an elaborate phasing-in period that was experienced by me in the blur of maternity leave and the sleep deprivation associated with having a 2-month old. So this feels like Clio's real first day of school, and I'm struck even more then when I first saw her in her new booster seat by how big and how little she is, all at the same time. A few things to note:
1. She tells me she doesn't want to go to school, that when we get there she will say, "No Mrs. Walters, I don't want you!" and that she will close the classroom door and run back to me and get in the car. I think this is just the anticipation talking- I can report back tomorrow.
2. I am suddenly aware, in planning for Clio's lunch and packing it in her carefully-chosen lunchbox, that this is the first time Clio will be declaring herself in a peer-situation. I find myself worrying that Boulder kids and Montessori kids do not carry such commercial items as a Disney Princess backpack (and lunch box, and thermos, and sneakers), and try to reassure myself that Clio's love of the Disney Princesses (despite having never seen most of the movies they star in) is reason enough to embrace her choices. I wonder what other moms pack in lunches, and if Clio will covet her neighbors juicebox, gummy fruit snacks, or cookies; does a 3-year-old understand the idea of individual meals? Mine has been eating the same chicken tenders and frozen vegetables as her peers at day care for a long while now. At the grocery store, I found myself buying things I normally don't - individual applesauce containers, deli meat- so Clio can "fit in."
3. I'm a little sad that Clio will be away from us all day, every day, starting tomorrow. It's been kind of fun to have her around, accompanying me on my various errands, entertaining me in the aisles of Target, causing strangers in my path to smile in my direction when they catch sight of her light summer dress and furry moon boots.
4. Tonight as we did "big day," I told her that when I started school, when I was 2 1/2, my mom was so worried that I would be sad and want to stay with her, but that, when we got to the school, I simply let go of her hand so I could wave to her, said "bye mom!" and walked cheerfully into the classroom. My mom was so distraught my this, she says she just stood there, sort of whimpering, "don't I get a kiss?" When I finished the story, Clio asked me to tell it again; I agreed that I would, tomorrow, on our way to school.
Monday, August 24, 2009
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.
"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.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
On Transition
Oh Blog, How I Have Missed You!
We're here, in Boulder, in one piece. We finally got internet yesterday. And for the record, I'd like to amend something I stated in an earlier post. I talked about moving being sudden, no matter how long the build up; in fact, I likened it to childbirth, where one day you are pregnant and the next you have a child (one day you live here, the next, there). But of course, both have a transition (in childbirth, part of it is literally called "transition"), and in the case of this move, everything has been very, very gradual. First of all, because we have yet to sell our house in Brooklyn, we actually have two homes right now, and both have some of our things. We have phone numbers--land lines, no less--in both places. We have plants to water here and there.
Uploading my pictures from the past week made me realize what a strange, complex thing this move has been. First off, I forgot that Clio had pneumonia our last week in Brooklyn until I saw this picture of her nebulizing herself
(welcome back--again--Mr. Nebulizer.) I forgot--already--what an intense, busy time those last few days were. We had a buyer we were waiting to hear from on the house, and we finally got word that they were not ready to buy in the middle of Monday night. Dave's uncle Ray was already in town to help with the packing and, ultimately, the driving. They were planning to leave Wednesday, though Ray thought we were cutting it too close (the truck had to be here, ideally, by Friday afternoon so the girls and I had a place to sleep upon arrival by air.) So we moved up the truck pick up and tried to move up the movers, leaving me one day to figure out what furniture stayed to stage the house and what came with us. When they didn't hear from the movers, Dave and Ray started packing the truck Tuesday, and we continued packing boxes until 3 in the morning; they went ahead and finished loading the truck BY THEMSELVES, and got on the road at 9 (just after the movers called to find out what time we needed them); my aunt Missy arrived around noon to head to Ikea for the home-staging lightning round. By Wednesday night we had the house mostly put together.
But in the in-between, I had to figure out how to feed a 3- and 1- year old with no furniture. It looks something like this:
Thursday I borrowed my friend Emily's car and returned library books, took 5 huge bags and random furniture to Salvation Army, returned a few odds and ends to Ikea, went to Target for the bedskirt that matched the bedding in the master bedroom, went BACK to the same complex for a standing lamp I saw at Marshall's, etc. Thank goodness for our wonderful neighbors, who picked up Clio from day care and fed the lot of us, thereby minimizing the time allotment for the girls to break all things Ikea.
Friday I returned the car, walked home a dozen blocks, installed a decal mural in Clio's room,
got a call from a realtor wanting to show the house THAT AFTERNOON (it happened, by the way, while I was on the plane and Elsie's mom Agnes let them in), which meant everything had to be "showroom perfect," packed our bags, cleaned up the garden, watered the plants, took out the garbage (7 contractor bags), picked up the girls from day care for the VERY LAST TIME, squeezed in a tearful good-bye (although, Dave would later ask "who else was tearful" and truth be told, just me.)
got the girls home, kept them from breaking all things ikea, called a car service, and got off to the airport.
Things look similar on this side of our landing: sleeping on the floor Friday night for lack of mattresses (they stayed in Brooklyn), hitting iHop at 6am when we realized we did not even have milk for the baby, realizing after waiting for an hour on Saturday that the movers were coming SUNDAY, locking our keys in the car at Target and having to get a cab to take us home to get keys and back to get the car, and so on and so forth.
But you know what? Clio and Eleri like the new house.
Clio talks about liking Boulder (although she would like to go to Elsie's house, even though she know understands that this would involve a plane and planes are expensive. Here's their last, Thursday night playdate:
And my parents arrived today to help watch the kids while we continue the slow process of unpacking and learning new patterns for living in our new house. And we'll buy a second-hand burley to hitch to the bikes so we can all ride together. And we'll go to the farmer's market and Boulder festival and hike in Chautauqua and be tourists while we have visitors.
I always get a little flummoxed when I've been away from blogging for a while, because there tends to be so much to catch up on, and sometimes I don't know how to parse it all out, and this has never been more true than now. When will I write about the strange lack of ethnicities here (and my surprise that the movers were not Russian, the cab driver was not Middle Eastern, and the Starbucks Barristas were not African American)? About Clio's school picnic and the fact that I chose this moment to stand firm on discipline, meaning she didn't get to have ice cream at the ice cream social? About the fact that Eleri is walking?
None of this is sudden; it is all a continuum.
More to come.
We're here, in Boulder, in one piece. We finally got internet yesterday. And for the record, I'd like to amend something I stated in an earlier post. I talked about moving being sudden, no matter how long the build up; in fact, I likened it to childbirth, where one day you are pregnant and the next you have a child (one day you live here, the next, there). But of course, both have a transition (in childbirth, part of it is literally called "transition"), and in the case of this move, everything has been very, very gradual. First of all, because we have yet to sell our house in Brooklyn, we actually have two homes right now, and both have some of our things. We have phone numbers--land lines, no less--in both places. We have plants to water here and there.
Uploading my pictures from the past week made me realize what a strange, complex thing this move has been. First off, I forgot that Clio had pneumonia our last week in Brooklyn until I saw this picture of her nebulizing herself
(welcome back--again--Mr. Nebulizer.) I forgot--already--what an intense, busy time those last few days were. We had a buyer we were waiting to hear from on the house, and we finally got word that they were not ready to buy in the middle of Monday night. Dave's uncle Ray was already in town to help with the packing and, ultimately, the driving. They were planning to leave Wednesday, though Ray thought we were cutting it too close (the truck had to be here, ideally, by Friday afternoon so the girls and I had a place to sleep upon arrival by air.) So we moved up the truck pick up and tried to move up the movers, leaving me one day to figure out what furniture stayed to stage the house and what came with us. When they didn't hear from the movers, Dave and Ray started packing the truck Tuesday, and we continued packing boxes until 3 in the morning; they went ahead and finished loading the truck BY THEMSELVES, and got on the road at 9 (just after the movers called to find out what time we needed them); my aunt Missy arrived around noon to head to Ikea for the home-staging lightning round. By Wednesday night we had the house mostly put together.
But in the in-between, I had to figure out how to feed a 3- and 1- year old with no furniture. It looks something like this:
Thursday I borrowed my friend Emily's car and returned library books, took 5 huge bags and random furniture to Salvation Army, returned a few odds and ends to Ikea, went to Target for the bedskirt that matched the bedding in the master bedroom, went BACK to the same complex for a standing lamp I saw at Marshall's, etc. Thank goodness for our wonderful neighbors, who picked up Clio from day care and fed the lot of us, thereby minimizing the time allotment for the girls to break all things Ikea.
Friday I returned the car, walked home a dozen blocks, installed a decal mural in Clio's room,
got a call from a realtor wanting to show the house THAT AFTERNOON (it happened, by the way, while I was on the plane and Elsie's mom Agnes let them in), which meant everything had to be "showroom perfect," packed our bags, cleaned up the garden, watered the plants, took out the garbage (7 contractor bags), picked up the girls from day care for the VERY LAST TIME, squeezed in a tearful good-bye (although, Dave would later ask "who else was tearful" and truth be told, just me.)
got the girls home, kept them from breaking all things ikea, called a car service, and got off to the airport.
Things look similar on this side of our landing: sleeping on the floor Friday night for lack of mattresses (they stayed in Brooklyn), hitting iHop at 6am when we realized we did not even have milk for the baby, realizing after waiting for an hour on Saturday that the movers were coming SUNDAY, locking our keys in the car at Target and having to get a cab to take us home to get keys and back to get the car, and so on and so forth.
But you know what? Clio and Eleri like the new house.
Clio talks about liking Boulder (although she would like to go to Elsie's house, even though she know understands that this would involve a plane and planes are expensive. Here's their last, Thursday night playdate:
And my parents arrived today to help watch the kids while we continue the slow process of unpacking and learning new patterns for living in our new house. And we'll buy a second-hand burley to hitch to the bikes so we can all ride together. And we'll go to the farmer's market and Boulder festival and hike in Chautauqua and be tourists while we have visitors.
I always get a little flummoxed when I've been away from blogging for a while, because there tends to be so much to catch up on, and sometimes I don't know how to parse it all out, and this has never been more true than now. When will I write about the strange lack of ethnicities here (and my surprise that the movers were not Russian, the cab driver was not Middle Eastern, and the Starbucks Barristas were not African American)? About Clio's school picnic and the fact that I chose this moment to stand firm on discipline, meaning she didn't get to have ice cream at the ice cream social? About the fact that Eleri is walking?
None of this is sudden; it is all a continuum.
More to come.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
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