matching tracksuits

fun in threes, sometimes fours

the girl

Jarring Reminder

Saturday 22 August 2009 | 1 Comment

Checking a post's formatting, I noticed a picture in the Flickr bar at right.

"Has she changed so much?" I gasped as I clicked on through. No teeth; short hair; such a very young face -- she looks like a different child.

I click through the set -- "LMS (First Year)" -- and I see a terrifying picture.

I would never put L in a setting like that now: she's entirely too mobile and to hard-headed. She'd be tumbling down the rocks within moments.

Or would she? She's a big girl; she has a fairly developed sense of balance. She might not. The old protectiveness clashes with the new, maturing reality.

Casual Sunday

Monday 17 August 2009 | 1 Comment

A new class with a new teacher and a new building -- recipe for stress for a 2.6 year old. All that in mind, we decided a lazy day at home was in order. Morning was for painting.

L is very interested in abstract design, and she has a strong sense of color, particularly blue. A successful painting has a significant amount of blue. And pink.

All great artists teach as well, directly or indirectly. L is no exception, offering advice to neighboring painters.

"But, but, you use blue paint, Mama, and I use blue paint. Okay?"

And a productive painting session requires the artist remain focused on her work, heedless of where else her paint might be landing.

Backyard Setup

Sunday 16 August 2009 | 2 Comments

We're going on our first family camping trip over the Labor Day weekend. First, we have to check out the tent.

Of course, the Girl has to help. She loves helping, though until the last few months, her help has not been terribly helpful.

But she's getting good at holding things for us.

"I can hold it?" she asks. She keeps a tight grip for a few moments, then asks, "You need this, Mama?" If Mama doesn't need it, L quickly loses interest.

Once set up, the tent is a hit. It's a palatial space for the Girl, and she makes good use of it, running about, jumping, being generally toddler-ish.

Blue Eyes, Runny Nose

Thursday 13 August 2009 | 1 Comment

http://www.youtube.com/v/kZ2EOIDDRSU

Swimming Alone

Wednesday 12 August 2009 | 1 Comment

The Girl has begun padding about on her own…

Edisto Beach in Motion

Monday 10 August 2009 | 0 Comments

Books in the Basement

Sunday 09 August 2009 | 0 Comments

In the process of reorganizing the basement storage/work room, K and I have been tearing open boxes that have sat virtually untouched for years. Most of it consists of my own belongings, packed up while I lived in Poland in the late 1990s (eventually repacked into sturdy Rubber Maid storage bins). My parents moved, and instead of making the decisions for me, they left it to me, ten years later, to go through the stuff and toss out that which was once treasure but now trash. Granted, I could have done it earlier, but I lacked the serious motivation. Who wants to root around through old boxes of memories?

I had cracked the box that I knew contained my photographs. Eventually, when I moved back to Poland in the early 2000s and dumped on them all my earthly possessions collected in Boston and Polska, the box grew to contain pictures from close to thirty years of my life. It was a strong incentive, and I'd gone through that box several times.

The rest of the boxes remained packed, essentially for close to fifteen years. This was the week that I opened them.

The vast majority were books and toys from my own childhood that my mother had saved. Most of them were in remarkably good shape, especially the books. Not a spot of mold; not a hint of mildewy age.

I found a Harriet the Spy tour location tour on Flickr while writing this -- well worth the time of any fans.

And so I took some time to go through books from my childhood, most of which I hadn't held in my hands for at least twenty-five years. A look at the title and I remember almost everything: plot, illustration style with specific illustrations, and even my favorite parts. Petunia, the Sweet Pickles series, Benjamin Dilley's Lavender Lion, stacks of Tell-A-Tale books–and so many other books I didn't even remember having until I pulled them from the box. Near the bottom, late-childhood favorites hid: Harriet the Spy, a book on real, scary sea monsters, a book on tornadoes.

There were few specific memories about the books. Instead, it was general feelings, peaceful feelings. Calm.

I pulled several out to give to L.

Her collection grows, and her eyes always light up when she gets a new book.

She takes books everywhere: she wants them by her as she plays; she wants them in the car with her; she wants one when on the potty. All of these are negotiable. The non-negotiable is the bedtime book. Usually her pick. That night, though, I chose: Petunia.

“Poor Petunia. Poor animals.” L mutters sympathetically when the firecrackers go off, scattering and injuring the animals.

I'm doing more than passing down books; I'm sharing memories in the most direct way, by recreating them.

Lie

Saturday 08 August 2009 | 1 Comment

The evidence was everywhere: an empty wrapper; brown stains around the mouth; dark smears down the front of the dress; cocoa breath; the knick-knack box that stored chocolates sent from Babcia in Poland on the floor open.

"L, did you eat chocolate?" I ask.

She put her head down in shame -- a new trick -- and the looked up and said calmly, "No."

I look at her quizzically and ask again. I get the same answers.

And suddenly, everything I'd learned about parenting during the last thirty-one months goes out the window. "How do you deal with someone lying who isn't old enough to know what truth is?"

Some quick research shows that my assumption was right:

Your toddler lies because at this age he's not yet able to differentiate between reality and fantasy. Until he's 3 or 4, your toddler won't fully grasp the concept of lying, because he doesn't yet understand the idea of an objective truth based in fact. (S.Denham)

And yet, it didn't seem like the the best idea simply to ignore it. Denham goes on to provide suggestions in her article, but standing there, looking at a chocolate smeared little girl who'd just told me ever so sweetly, "No, I didn't eat chocolate," I experienced something I hadn't experienced at home for quite some time. At school, this happens quite frequently, but at home -- not so much. In short, I stood there dumbfounded, wondering what in the world is the "right" way to handle the situation.

I told her that she'd lied, and I explained what that mean in concrete terms: "You told me you didn't eat the chocolate, but you did eat it."

And from there? Everything that came to mind just seemed so pedantic and ineffectual.

"Teach about the truth" is now on the parenting to-do-when-she's-old-enough list.

Returning

Monday 03 August 2009 | 1 Comment

The Girl entertained herself with a box of bandages...

Morning on the Beach

Tuesday 28 July 2009 | 4 Comments

"They're a bit rustic," K's colleague said about the cabins at Edisto Beach State Park. "They're okay if you like 'roughing it,'" he concluded.

"If this is 'roughing it'," K said as we walked in, "then I'd hate to see what his idea of luxury is." We quickly determined that in between the two visits there must have been some extensive renovations.

Surely no one could call this "roughing it."

Hardwood floors and an interior done completely in unfinished pine -- it is a welcoming space from the beginning. The living room has a Murphy Bed and an ample sitting area.

At the other end, a small television (hidden in the cabinet on the wall) and a leather couch.

There's a small bedroom in one corner of the cabin -- it's L's bedroom.

The kitchen is well light (in the day, anyway) and perfectly adequate for vacation.

The real treasure, though, is in the back.

A restful night is a simple matter there, with the wind blowing through the palms and the crickets all around.

We wake the next morning to visitors: a family of four deer that almost managed to scamper away completely before I stumble back into the cabin for the camera.

Still, we didn't come to Edisto for the wildlife. We came for the beaches, eager to give L her first beach experience.

With the initial fear from the previous afternoon a distant memory, L is able to get down to some serious sand castle building. She carefully makes a ring of towers with an eventual moat. K, of course, only watches. Having grown up in southern Poland, she's had enough beach time in her life!

The pelicans off the coast have breakfast while the architectural wonders rise from the sand. They hit the water with shocking impact. We later find out that the repeated impact can so damage their eyes that they can eventually go blind.

The Girls, somewhat oblivious to the masochistic fishing exercise going on just behind them, continue to build.

Eventually, I try to convince L to approach the water and let the waves lightly wash over her toes. She's not receptive, and when I press the issue, assuring her that I'll hold her the entire time, that she has nothing to fear, that I'll never let anything hurt her (A lie? No: some things are out of my control, but those things that I can control I will control. Or will I? There is learning in pain...), that it will be great fun -- all for naught.

The more I reassure her, the more she panics. At last, I calm her down and assure her that I won't make her go to the water.

It's like with many foods: I know she'll love it as soon as she overcomes her distrust.

She should be glad that she's not a pelican, I decide. Then again, instinct is frightfully powerful, as is conditioning.