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the girl

The End of the Season

Sunday 08 January 2012 | 2 Comments

Poles traditionally don't put up the Christmas tree until a few days before Christmas, as opposed to Americans, who seem to start getting ready for Christmas before Halloween. This is especially true in shops. On the other hand, Poles tend to leave their trees up until the end of January.

This late set-up, late pack-up habit undoubtedly comes from the Catholicism that permeates Polish society. Christmas day is only the beginning of the Christmas season, and accordingly, having the tree and decoration up during the season and not simply before it.

We work something of a compromise in our home: we decorate a couple of weeks before and keep it a couple of weeks after. Eventually, though, the time comes: we put on some carols for one last time and take down the tree.

The Girl, happy to have her dancing space back, spins in joy.

Helping

Friday 06 January 2012 | 0 Comments

One of the reasons I so like taking L to the park is the adventure she has meeting new people. She always makes a new friend -- though they seldom even learn their names -- and sharpens her social skills.

Monkeying Around

Thursday 05 January 2012 | 0 Comments

The Bath

Wednesday 04 January 2012 | 0 Comments

Tough Lessons

Tuesday 03 January 2012 | 0 Comments

Because one of my plugins broke with the upgrade to WordPress 3.3, I have to click over to Flickr and manually grab the code for each image I want to insert. In some ways, it would be easier simply to upload them directly to this site, but we use Flickr as a mastery back-up for our best photos -- the ones we absolutely don't want to lose -- so in the long run, it's worth the extra step. But it does mean some clicking: Click on the picture. Click on the "Share" button. Select the text and copy. Click to the new window -- you get the point.

Still, as far as sharing goes, this is fairly painless, because one of the hardest things to learn is the gift of sharing. I say "gift of sharing" as if it's something easy for me to do. It's not. I doubt it's easy for anyone in all situations. We all have this or that which we hang on to with clinched fists even when we aren't aware of how are knuckles are turning white.

For the Girl, it's Wawel's candy, "Kasztanki." L is simply obsessed with them. This is partially because of their rarity: they're not readily available in the South. (One might find them in Polish stores up north, but not down here.) Babcia sends them to the Girl on a fairly regular basis, but from time to time, she does run out, and then it's a period of slow heartbreak.

Tonight, we suggested that L share her favorite candy with Nana and Papa so they could see what all the fuss was about. Judging from her expression, one would think we'd asked her to give up a kidney or sacrifice her life. Eventually she relented, though not without a bit of persuasion.

I suppose we all take some persuading to share some things.

First Ride

Sunday 01 January 2012 | 2 Comments

The Girl's first cycling experiences were as a passenger, a constantly-exhorting weight I pulled around in a trailer more or less at the speed she liked. "Faster, Tata!" would soon morph into, "Not so fast, Tata!" While I love her boundlessly, she was sometimes quite an irritating passenger.

Today, the Girl and I took our first father/daughter bike ride: a respectable distance of 2.1 kilometers (1.3 miles) in a nearby park. It took us 28 minutes, meaning we were riding roughly 4.3 km/h (2.7mph). There were a number of reasons for this rather slow tempo, all related to her lack of cycling experience.

Having training wheels makes her dependent on them for balance. Thus, when one loosens a bit and is thus not providing perfect support, L panics.
L is terrified of going downhill. When she gets going too fast, she panics and, instead of putting on brakes, plants both feet firmly -- albeit very temporarily -- on the ground. The pedals bite her ankles, she almost looses her balance and falls forwards, and the whole thing becomes a gigantic trauma. "You need to use your bakes" I said continuously today.
The Girl doesn't have the best concept of two-way traffic. Even when she sees someone coming from the opposite direction, she seems oblivious.
She hasn't mastered braking, so it's always all or nothing. There is no such thing as coasting on the brakes.
L's bike is too small for her. Her knees almost touch the handlebars, and her legs are never more than 3/4 extended.
When all of this combines into one experience, it is disaster writ large.

Still, a relatively successful first day out. We'll start working on our first father/daughter century ride when we get her a new bike this spring.

2011

Saturday 31 December 2011 | 0 Comments

Twelve wishes for the Girl.

January

The Girl is curious. It's only natural: all children are, and we only use that curiosity when something kills it.

May you always be fascinated with snow.

February

An early warm spell in late February brought buds and blossoms to trees and bushes, and the Girl was eager to pick the first blossoms. "They're for Mama," she explained.

May the beauty of the world always incline your soul to generosity.

March

"I'm an artist," she explained as she traced her imagination in chalk on the driveway in the early spring. "Don't tell anyone," she asked, but it's hard to keep such a secret, even for her. She's always drawing and always eager to share her drawings.

May your creativity always be a source of pride for you.

April

A new sandbox brought spring joy.

May you always enjoy getting dirty.

May

During her second camping trip, the Girl found herself having to produce her own entertainment while K and I set up camp. Fortunately, she brought her art supplies.

May your artistic talent always be a source of comfort.

June

Early June. We headed to Hot Springs, North Carolina, to visit friends and attend the Bluff Mountain Festival, a celebration of bluegrass and old timey mountain music. The Girl sat in rapt fascination as the cloggers clicked their rhythms. Soon, when the small plywood dance floor cleared, L ran out to spin and hop and dance.

May traditional music always make you want to dance.

July

A first hot dog. For a girl who always judges food without tasting, trying new foods brings smiles to K's and my face. It's such a rarity that it's photo-worthy.

May you always be willing to try something new.

August

As the temperature soared, we found ourselves at the pool with increasing frequency. It was during this summer that the Girl finally took off the water wings and tried swimming solo. It was during this summer that the Girl, seeing her best friend from school doing it, finally gathered the bravery to shove her face under the water.

May water always bring joy.

September

The Girl has had a refined sense of fashion for some time. Only recently did she begin wearing pants on a semi-regular basis. "I don't want to look like a boy," she explained, and she simply adored her dresses.

May you always understand that clothes only highlight out your inner beauty and not the do not contribute to your as a person.Â

October

The games we play. To list them all would be impossible: I simply can't remember them all.

May you always treasure your imagination.

November

A short trip to visit family in Poland brought a renewed interest in all things Polish. It was a linguistic breakthrough, producing a new willingness to speak the language and a new pride in the Polish side of her being.

May you always take enormous pride in your Polish heritage.

December

The year ended with news that the Girl will soon be Big Sister.

May the excitement you felt at the news of your brother's coming be the center of your relationship with him.

The Battle

Friday 30 December 2011 | 0 Comments

The warrior comes, a vicious flanking surprise attack with that most feared weapon: the broom.

A fierce battle ensues: experience versus speed, Swiffer Sweeper versus broom.

If only all of our battles were so fun.

And surely, I’ll look back at the epic bedtime battles, the fussy mornings, the frustrated afternoons, and I’ll wish our current battles could return.

Old and Young

Thursday 29 December 2011 | 2 Comments

There are times when the Girl most decided looks older than her actual age: riding her bike in the carport the other day was such a time; at the beach this summer was another. Yet looking older and being older are two different things. Indeed,Â looking older, acting older, and being older are three different things. Two of those three are out of anyone’s control. Acting older is a function of biology (brains and bodies must develop, after all), psyschology, and lastly, choice.

I try to influence that choice by increased reference to the Boy. “When Little Brother is here,” I’ll begin when I sense some fussing is approaching, “will you really want to act like such a little child? Don’t you want to be big sister?” Perhaps a bit manipulative, but isn’t that the case with most aspects of child rearing at this age?Â Manipulation will only get me so far in the game, though. The rest is her choice.

Tonight’s choice: to cook dinner. It’s a lazy, almost-emergency-nothing-planned dinner: we have a jar of spaghetti sauce and some noodles in the cabinets for such evenings. Perfect for a little girl.

“You’ll do the hot stuff, Tata,” she explains. “I’ll crush the sugar for the noodles and other stuff.” (I can never get “bullion” into her head; it’s always “sugar.”) She pours the jar of sauce into the pan, swirls around the water in the jar to rinse off the leftover sauce, cleans off the table — everything she can do, she does.

These are the small accomplishments that instill intense pride. “When Little Brother is five or six, he can help, too,” she says offhandedly as she crushes bullion cubes. “Guess what, Mama!” she almost yells when K walks through the door, “I cooked dinner!”

And so the future unfurls itself slowly in front of us. We watch and smile, anticipating and almost dreading: we’ll look back wistfully on these blog entries some day, we know.

But this is only half of the story.

As surely as she shows flashes of the years to come, the Girl reminds us that she’s still five. “Want to see how I can jump like a frog?” she asks after dinner.

If only she can keep this balance of youthful excitement over the most seemingly insignificant things and an increasing sense of responsibility, I’m quite certain of her future.

Saint Stephen’s Day 2011

Monday 26 December 2011 | 0 Comments

For us, the holidays are a time of Wigilia leftovers. We’ve begun our lunch two days in a row now with barszcz z uszkami. The Girl likes her barszcz without the “ears,” (i.e., dumplings), though. For sane people, it’s the wild-mushroom-filled dumplings that elevate the dish to perfection, but the fact that L loves barszcz is enough.

It’s not the barszcz she’s used to, though. This is peppery, clear barszcz, made with fermented beet juice to give it an edge. The result is a testament to the Girl’s love of the soup: it’s peppery enough that afterward, she fusses about how her throat burns, and she eats it knowing this is coming.

After lunch, I pack her small bike and helmet in the trunk, and we head for our favorite park, leaving K at home to rest and enjoy some quiet. L quickly makes friends with a young Latino girl her age who is also on a bike, and the two spend the next ninety minutes together, playing games, comparing notes about second-language abilities, and being five-year-olds.

Later, when L and K are both in bed, I occupy myself with old pictures. I look through the pictures of our wedding in 2004, pictures I’ve seen dozens of times, then move to pictures from the day after: a small garden party, family and friends relaxing in a surprisingly warm day in my in-laws’ yard.

I drift into thoughts about how different this life is from that, and how similar.

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