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the girl

Scat Cat

Tuesday 10 November 2009 | 0 Comments

It’s still a cliche love-hate relationship: L still loves, the cat still hates. Or perhaps “the cat fears” would be more accurate.

In my pre-parenthood thoughts of what fatherhood would be like, I never realized that literally everything must be taught — even how to show love. It’s a given when we look at the dysfunctional relationships that are everywhere (most commonly on the covers of magazines in the checkout line). Still, I thought that if we taught by example, L would learn how to express affection.

We teach by example; we illustrate by experience (“See? We’re gentle with the cat and she comes to us.”); we instruct directly (“Hitting the cat is not a good way to show affection.”). Sometimes it works. Generally, Bida continues to head the other way whenever L enters the room.

Guard Duty

Monday 09 November 2009 | 0 Comments

Alligator is after L. She tells me that he starts lurking about around bath time. When we're getting her out of the bath, Alligator starts looking for her in earnest. I tell him he should look in the backyard. It buys us a little time. We get the Girl dressed, brush her teeth, and to her room, but by then, L is worried. It doesn't take that long to search the backyard, and Alligator might come back any moment.

Fortunately, Crocodile is available to stand watch.

Fall Sunday

Sunday 08 November 2009 | 0 Comments

Living this far south has its advantages: we're still getting tomatoes from our backyard vines. More importantly, it makes getting out as a family easier, and the usual field trips continue.

Today, it is a trip to the zoo. L has been so many times that she has the sequence of animals memorized. The elephants get everything started -- appropriate, because "they're my favorite," L declares.

The monkeys are next, followed by the reptiles. Usually L breezes through, barely glancing at the cold-blooded, slow-moving creatures. Today, though, they were unusually active, especially the rattlesnakes.

Once we get to the giraffes (who are right after the reptiles), though, L decides she's had enough. "I want to go to the big playground," she says, and we rush to the playground, stopping only long enough to get a picture with Bear.

The playground also has its routine. Swings are always first. Afterward, perhaps the slides, or maybe the huge jungle gym complete with music stations.

With the bright sun and warmth, we're hardly the only ones out today. Everyone seems to realize that this could be the last truly warm weekend.

Then again, who would any of us be kidding?

Christmas could be almost this warm.

The problem is that the warmth is unpredictable. Planning birthday parties at the park -- we'd love to have L's at the park -- becomes impractical because it might just turn cold that weekend. For this birthday group, though, the weather was on their side.

As we're leaving, L surprises us by wanting to try a few new stations. This park has some truly innovated toys, though the first one L wants is a new twist on an old torture.

Nearby, though, is a track-based activity that is almost always broken: it seems to attract everyone, even teenagers who are much too heavy for it. Luckily, L's interest coincides with a period of functionality. Next week it will almost certainly be broken again.

We return home and finish the day with a game of Candy Land. L quickly grasps the idea behind the game, but the multiple colors combined with the element of chance are too much for her. The fact that she might not get her favorite color -- blue -- is overwhelming, and so we make a new rule: L gets a blue card to begin with. Period.

With blue in hand, L happily goes along with just about anything.

Around the World

Saturday 07 November 2009 | 3 Comments

Some daycare centers seem to attract a certain international clientele. Every year, the school sponsors an International Day when families can show off their heritage and learn a little about the world at the same time. The kids receive passports; each country receives a stamp. The kids arrive and it's an endless cycle of visitors and visits.

This year, at Mexico's booth, seasoned grasshoppers were available. I'm not certain they were a hit with the kids, but I took a handful to try. Salty, crunchy, proteiny, Israelitish. "We use as snacks, for tacos -- that kind of thing," says the host. "Not quite what you find in the typical Mexican restaurant," K comments later.

While I was munching salty grasshopper, L was visiting her friend. Actually, since I tend to refer to L as "the Girl," I suppose I could call this young lady, J, the Friend. "We hear L's name all the time at home all the time," J's father tells me.

Not surprisingly, we hear J's name at home all the time. For a while, L declared that her baby doll -- generally referred to as "Baby" -- was "J", but that lasted only a few days. Perhaps it was odd to have a best friend and a baby with the same name.

L sees an elephant -- her favorite -- at the India and hustles over for a quick visit. This particular elephant is not supporting the world on its back; indeed, it seems to be supported by a soccer ball. I'm sure there could be some kind of symbolic significance, but before I have a chance to think further, L is off, returning to K. As usual, I tag along behind.

Babcia’s Coming

Friday 06 November 2009 | 0 Comments

In a little over a month, Babcia will arrive for a several-week visit. It will be the first time in a year and a half that we've seen her; L has gone from being virtually an infant to being something more than a toddler.

L is excited about the arrival. She mentions it every now and then, and every time an airplane flies over our house, L points and asks, "Is that Babcia?"

It will be a time of linguistic development for L. She understands Polish perfectly, and she even mixes a few Polish words into her English vocabulary. She doesn't speak more than these occasionally mixed up words. When Babcia arrives, though, it will be time to start speaking Polish.

Only recently it occurred to me that this might be almost as difficult as learning to speak English. Her initial instinct will be to speak English, and knowing L's stubbornness, she is likely initially to refuse even to try. Babcia has a secret weapon, though: fluent Russian. She might turn the tables on L.

Riches

Tuesday 03 November 2009 | 0 Comments

With L's newly found sweet wealth, a daily activity is the counting of the candy. We pour it all out at the kitchen table; we dump it on the coffee table; we spread it around the floor -- we count it again and again. And again.

It's a blessing and a curse, really: she is counting, but I'm not sure what she's counting is actually worth counting.

We were hoping that L's initial reaction to candy -- a wrinkled up nose and immediate retreat -- would last, but she's developed a love for sweets that we absolutely have to monitor.

"That much candy will last you for two months," I guessed the first time she dumped it out; with our one-a-day rule, I just about got it right.

Normal

Sunday 01 November 2009 | 0 Comments

A couple of weeks after our wedding, K and I went for a walk in the fields of Lipnica Wielka, the village in southern Poland that was my home for seven years, our home for one. We'd returned home from our honeymoon at Balaton, moved her stuff to our small apartment, and begun the process of settling down.

Lipnica Wielka, Poland (August 29, 2004)

The day after I took this picture, I wrote in my journal,

Finally everything seems to have settled down a bit. [K] and I have moved into the apartment; we've done some decorating; we've had dinner here; we've gone to [K's] folks' house for Sunday lunch already. And here it is, just before seven, and I'm writing in my journal. Everything's back to "normal" in other words, but that "normal" isn't quite like it ever was before.

It's odd how one's sense of "normal" changes so easily. For several years, we had a "normal" newlywed life: traveling, having parties, meeting friends for dinner, staying up.

Then L came along, and for a while, getting no real sleep and always having an infant in our arms was "normal." Getting up multiple times in one night became an expected routine, and it often had its own pleasantness: there is an unparalleled intimacy involved in helping an infant -- getting a bottle, changing a diaper, calming a nightmare -- when the rest of the city is asleep.

Now "normal" is "No!" and "No, no, no!" It's "I want it!" and tantrums. It's dealing with independence in a still-dependent little girl. It can be more frustrating than getting up for the fourth time with an infant.

Soon enough, I know "normal" will be something entirely different, and it occurs to me, as it has to many through the millenia, that perhaps a static normal is not normal.

Retrieving Apples

Sunday 25 October 2009 | 0 Comments

A trip to the orchard is supposed to involve stretching to pick the perfect apple that is just out of reach. It's supposed to mean a delicate tug and twist to remove an apple without causing others to fall to the ground. It's supposed to be about branches bending under the weight of apples. Last year it was about all those things. This year, it was a question of picking them off the ground.

It's a little disheartening to be scavenging apples rather than picking them, but Pink Ladies -- sweet with a tart edge and a crunch that is audible -- are not apples one leaves to rot on the ground.

So we picked them,

hauled them in baskets

as well as wagons,

and brushed them off and ate them.

Every now and then, we stopped for a group picture, which reminded me of the greatest features of digital photography: easy sharing. No more line of cameras at the photographer's feet. No more "One more! Just one more!"