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RIP Weep Ins

July 23, 2010 – 5:09 am

Rhiannon said Wheat Thins correctly the other morning instead of Weep Ins as has been the charming way of the past year or two. I’m sad.

She still says “babe-ing suit”, and I LOVE that. And the other night at the dinner table while she was telling me about something she used the phrase “I’m serious” in between sentence parts, just as a teenager might.

Last month, when we were reading about Vesuvius and had volcanoes on the brain, she said (and I immediately wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget it): “What makes the volcano interrupt?”

Here at right is a shot from a few mornings ago. She asked if she had some time to play dress up before school. Her babies, she said, wanted their mommy to have the wings on for breakfast.

Growing up, but still a little girl.

**I am behind on photos. I know this. I have about 300 to catch up on, including from Cheyenne’s wedding. Many coming in August…

By Emily •• Posted in Family •• Comments (0)

My Imagination

June 25, 2010 – 10:25 pm

Using her imagination, January 2009

On a postie note above the teacher’s desk at Rhiannon’s preschool it says:

“I can see the pictures in my imagination
–Rhiannon”

I love that some teacher loved that enough to jot down. I never would have known she said it and I love knowing she said it.

By Emily •• Posted in Family •• Comments (2)

Special Tapers Section

June 13, 2010 – 6:22 pm

Rhiannon has been taking her drawings and folding them up until they fit in her palm and then extensively taping them up. Solemnly she handed one to me the other day. This is for you, Mommy. It’s a present.

She then took it back, explaining that only she could open it because the tape was delicate. A very long five minutes was then spent peeling the tape away before she could have her voila! moment and show me her picture. Next day, same thing.

The affinity to tape is not new. She has had her own tape dispenser since she was two. It’s purple. She likes to put tape on, well, anything. So I was not so flummoxed when Rhiannon’s preschool called me up: There’s been an incident. We need you to come get Rhiannon. She’s okay, but well– I can hear Rhiannon whining in the background. It’s hard to explain. There was a lot of tape involved. We’ve done the best we can…

What happened, I learned a bit later, was this:

Eli Tucker, an utterly charming kid at preschool whom Brian has described as a future hedge fund manager (he might be right), and Rhiannon sometimes get very intensely creative together with art projects. Exhibit A, above, right. We regularly collect paper towel and toilet paper rolls because Eli (and some of the other boys) tape them to their backs to make their jet packs. Eli sleeps in his. The boy likes tape as much as, well, my daughter.

On the day of the taping incident, Rhiannon and Eli were playing Princess Mermaid. This required Rhiannon’s legs to be taped together to create a fin. Being four, neither kid had the life experience to consider that perhaps a sheath of fabric between the tape and Rhiannon’s skin might be a good idea. Rhiannon’s teachers spent a long time and much patience peeling off as much as they could (see above about Eli really liking tape), but the skin behind the knees was too sensitive and Rhiannon broke down and they stopped removing tape. When I got to the school one knee wouldn’t bend and the other wouldn’t straighten and according to my daughter, she needed a lollipop.

She spent a hour in the bathtub trying to soften the tape enough to peel off. She sobbed, whined, snapped, and declared it the very worst day ever. (She’s been rather prone to dramatic absolutism of late.)

Luckily Pobba was not in Iceland (as he is at this moment), and we were able to call him and he sang The Worst Day of My Life for her. That — and the promised lollipop — really did help. As did a liberal slathering of lotion on the backs of her knees, a big hug from Daddy, and a full forty-five minutes of stories with Mommy.

And there hasn’t been talk of playing Princess Mermaid since.

By Emily •• Posted in Artwork, Family •• Comments (3)

A tale of moving into a new house

May 17, 2010 – 11:53 pm

We moved on October 9. The following weekend I dutifully purchased Halloween candy, getting it earlier than in past years to avoid being stuck with the lame candy. I scored.

Upon returning home I oh-so cleverly tied the bag from Target closed and stashed it in a box. Save me from myself, and all that. Except this is what the house looked like in October:

I lost the Halloween candy and had to go out a few days before to get more. (Note: in order to get good candy in the eleventh hour, one will pay a premium.)

Shortly after New Year’s I found the missing candy. I will cop to putting a handful of bite-sized snickers bars in to my freezer (where they did not last as long as they should have), distributed handfuls to the studio, and poured the rest into Rhiannon’s birthday party treat bags:

Which is why a January baby had Halloween candy in her treat bags. See photos from the party (finally posted).

p.s. Next year, the bags will be MUCH simpler. I can’t guarantee they won’t have a smattering of Halloween candy in there, though.

By Emily •• Posted in Family •• Comments (2)

Love Letters

April 28, 2010 – 1:41 pm

Lately Rhiannon has been writing a lot on her own. Last weekend while I was doing yard work she parked herself at my desk in the studio and wrote notes on postie notes. (She had already helped a bit with the yard work, and when she said she’d rather write letters I said okay.) When I moved from the back and side yard to the front, I let Rhiannon know it was time to move from the studio to the sunroom.

Just a minute, Mom. I am writing you a note. How do you spell ‘Dear’ again?

So I spelled Dear for her and then gave her the requested few minutes to write her note. And then we locked up the studio and headed to the front of the house.

I left your note on your desk, she said. Don’t look until tomorrow, okay?

This is what I found. Aside from Dear, she spelled everything herself. I am unsure if MOMMOMY is Mommy or MOM and MOMMY, but I don’t care. Gonna frame the thing.

On Monday when I picked her up she made sure I saw this in her take-home box:

She made a point to explain what it was to me, starting in the upper-left corner:

This is me and I am saying I Love You to all these people I love! Hand sweeps across the names. Then she pointed at her name in the middle with the heart: See, ‘Rhiannon loves’ The heart means ‘loves’. She said this solemnly, in case I didn’t already know. And then she read: Pobba, Auntie Abi (I think the “+LOE” means “and I love”) and Mommy… Pause, coyly looking at me through lashes, head tilted and everything, oy vey… Nana and Auntie O and Daddy!

She then explained that she ran out of room and couldn’t fit Zoe, or Kayde, or Auntie Julie… and the car ride home included a litany of everyone she loves missed on her love letter.

The girl’s full of love.

By Emily •• Posted in Family •• Comments (4)

Bed, and the Bluebird Part

April 20, 2010 – 9:49 am

Rhiannon's last night with the mattress on the floor.

I tucked Rhiannon into her new bed and I read her a long story. We exchanged many giggly goodnight kisses and flicked the pink nightlight on. With Margaret curled up at her feet I trilled “go to sleep now,” and headed into the kitchen to finish tidying up.

Almost immediately she began to sing to herself, to her kitty, to her baby dolls. Somewhere over the rainbow…

Smiling at the cuteness, I went about my tasks, turning the faucet on to clean something. When I turned it off, there was rising crying from the pink room. I went in and inquired…

I forgot [sob] the words to the bluebird part [sob]…

I comforted her, smoothing her hair as she clung to me, sobbing. Without denying or belittling her distress, I tried to assure her that this wasn’t a thing to cry over. Falling down and bonking your head — that’s a good reason to cry. But the words to a song? It’s easy to ask and get reminded…

Room for everyone on the new bed!

Her sobbing had subsided mostly, but with her face buried in my neck I caught only the second half of the sentence: …hurt my feelings…

I was no longer following. I asked who hurt her feelings. I figured she was conflating this moment with something that had happened at school.

The sobbing picked up. I hurt my own feelings because I forgot the words!

I just held her, and crooned the song to her, start to finish. Four times.

By Emily •• Posted in Family •• Comments (8)

Peace March

March 22, 2010 – 6:41 pm

On Saturday Brian took Rhiannon to the SF Peace March. She had a great time. Part of the day included Brian explaining what war was and pretty much laying the blame for the current mess right at Bush’s feet.

Who is Bush? Rhiannon wanted to know. Brian explained that Bush was president before Barack Obama.

When Rhiannon got home she told me about the march. There we lots and lots of people, she said, and lots of flags and lots of signs. And at one point in her artless and very sweet retelling of the day and all she saw and learned she referred to “Barack O-Bush”–

Who? I sounded like an owl in my interruption.

You know, Mom, the President before Barack Obama. She was nodding, clearly taking her instructional role seriously. It was important to her that I knew who the president was.

She was gently set straight.

The next day I showed her via YouTube her first scenes from Star Wars — a new fascination of hers thanks to the bang-bang little boys at school who would rather give up the tire swing than relinquish their light sabers. Between the few scenes she she saw her commentary covered that shooting at each other was “not very nice” and “war is bad”, but Princess Leia sure was pretty.

Everything in context.

By Emily •• Posted in Family •• Comments (0)

The Cotler Whistle

March 14, 2010 – 12:25 am

Tonight Rhiannon said to me, Listen to this, Mom. And then she turned her mouth into an O and blew the tiniest of whistles. And then her mouth went into a wide, OMG-can-you-believe-what-I-just-did? ear-to-ear smile.

I was dutifully (and sincerely) overjoyed for the accomplishment. I then proceeded to teach her The Cotler Whistle, passed down to me from my father as taught to him by his, which — as I like to believe in my fanciful head — came over from Mother Russia. Lanny and Doug each have a variation of The Whistle they use on Noah, Kyle, and Cheyenne (and I’d like to think that Kami, Greggie, Tillie, and Joey also know exactly what I am talking about). Dad, Lanny, and Doug each claim that their slight variation is the true lilt that passed Papa Ted’s lips. I doubt as if it has ever come to blows, but posturing has been reported.

With Pobba-of-The-Whistle (and the fried matzah she and Matthew helped him make) just last month when we were in Healdsburg, where Pobba most recently used The Whistle on me in Safeway.

My father has used this whistle to herd us kids since we were little, all five of us each responding like a little Pavlovian puppy when summoned, even well into adulthood. Depending upon context, it means one of two things: Where are you? or I am right here, but it basically means I/you were lost, but now I’m/you’re found. “Phew” might be inferred (though when we were kids, depending upon how long we were actually out of sight, “Phew” was interchangeable with, “You’re in significant trouble for wandering off.”)

This evening I taught Rhiannon the response of calling out I am right here with her hand raised. And then because we HAD to show someone, we skyped my mom to show her Rhiannon’s tiny whistle sound and her new response to mine. (My well-trained mother answers to The Whistle in a half-second flat, and thrilled Rhiannon by doing exactly that on the laptop screen.).

Then I explained to Rhiannon that if she learned The Whistle, she could respond to The Whistle with The Whistle. This all seemed absolutely fantastic to her, that 1) there might be A whistle, versus just whistling, 2) that WE might have a whistle all our own, but mostly 3) that she could do it, albeit very very quietly. That The Whistle communicated a clear message didn’t seem to blow her mind at all — if anything, it seemed practical and obvious, though that may have been my projection.

She was, however, concerned that maybe she would never be able to whistle very loudly.

You’re only four, sweetie. I couldn’t even make a tiny whistle sound when I was four and listen to me now [insert big loud Cotler Whistle]. Just practice.

And so she did, through bedtime stories, on the phone with Brian, and until she fell asleep. She’s going to wake me up with it in the morning, I just know it.

By Emily •• Posted in Family •• Comments (10)

Magic Doors

March 11, 2010 – 11:32 pm

As emailed to me by Claire, Fiona’s mom, midway through Rhiannon’s playdate with BFF (best friend Fiona):

We stopped by Trader Joes on the way home for milk, and Rhiannon says, “this is the same Trader Joe’s I go to with my mommy. You get treats here any time you want to.”  Then later, “Trader Joe’s is a magical place because the doors open for you all by themselves.” (Fiona promptly explained that no, this isn’t magic, it’s a sensor.  Bah Humbug!)

Magic doors. I love it.

By Emily •• Posted in Family •• Comments (0)

O!

March 8, 2010 – 11:32 pm

Me and Uncle Zak and Auntie O back when I was just one.

Out of nowhere tonight Rhiannon says: So, all the kids in school think JJ’s name is the smallest. JJ is a kid who went off to kindergarten this year, and thus is fervently revered.

Oh? I said, voice lilting in inquiry. I had no idea where this was heading, if anywhere.

Yes! she exclaimed, clearly thrilled at my response. That’s what I told them. Auntie O only has an O! Just one letter! Just an O!

She paused. She was smiling, clearly enjoying remembering the incident in her head. Then, lips pursed in a knowing, pushed-off-o-the-side smile, she nodded. Even not as many as JJ. Imagine that!

How wonderful to be four.

By Emily •• Posted in Family •• Comments (5)