Hello sweet sleeping ballerina, and Happy Thirty-Seven Month Birthday! While you dream in your bed I’m reflecting on the fun month we’ve had together – a month of hair cuts, ballet shoes and make-believe. Where to start?
Let’s start with the statistics. You had your three-year check-up this month and we got a glowing report on your 3 foot, 1 inch, 31 pound self. The doctor said you were in fine health, although we gave that resident a brief moment of concern. Not about your physical health, but concern about our treatment of you. Let me explain.
A resident came in the exam room first to give you a once-over and ask a few questions. He was trying to make small talk with you and asked what you’d been doing this summer. You said, “Playing.” He then prodded for a bit more.
“What else have you been doing?” he asked.
You fidgeted, then looked down with a bit of a sigh, and said “Working.”
You sounded like some middle-aged workaholic who is burned out on the cubicle life. The resident looked at us questioningly, and once we finished laughing we told him that your Montessori school refers to playtime with toys as “working.” Let’s make sure he doesn’t see this photo of you at our office:
While you’re still many years away from a professional career, you have been talking this month about what you want to do when you grow up. One thing is clear, you want to be famous. Here are some of your most recent career prospects, in your own words:
“When I grow up, I will be a famous ballerina and you will be my partner.”
“When I grow up, I will be a famous cowgirl and I
will ride on a big horse.”
“When I grow up, I will be a famous worker and I will hold a hammer in my hand.”
“When I grow up, I will be a famous pooper.”
Umm… that last one gave me pause, especially because we’ve experienced some backsliding in your potty training this month. But enough about that.
As for being a famous ballerina, we began chasing that dream this month when you took your very first dance class! You’ve been asking for dance classes for a while, and the “dance season” is just starting in town so we signed you up for a toddler class, one hour each week. You do ballet, tap, tumbling and baton.
When we arrived for the class I wondered if you would be nervous. I asked you to sit by me while I filled out some paperwork in the hallway before class began, and you burst into tears. You were sobbing so hard, but finally choked out an explanation for your outburst.
“I (sob) WANT (sob) TO (sob) DANCE!”
You were inconsolable, so I finally had to take you outside where some very nice older girls showed you their baton routines until you stopped crying. By then, class had started so I led you back inside to the teacher. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to watch your class, but quickly had my answer when the teacher took your hand, pulled you inside the room and unceremoniously shut the door.
I sat in the parent’s waiting area just outside the door with other nervous first-time moms. I’m not ashamed to admit that we took turns kneeling in front of the door, trying to peek through the keyhole to see what was going on. All I could see was legs. And I don’t think they were your legs.
Let me just take a moment now and apologize to you for the major faux pas I committed in reference to your first dance class. In my defense, when I called to sign you up I asked if you needed to wear anything particular to class. The nice gentleman told me no, that you could show up in your play clothes. So we did. Only after class did I find out that every other child in class was wearing a leotard, tights, tap shoes and ballet shoes. You, the queen of costumes, was not dressed up, and you were not pleased.
When class was over, the teacher carried you into the waiting room and you were in tears. She said you did well throughout the class, but finally lost it at the very end. She said you continually pointed at the other girls’ shoes and said, “I want some of those.”
So fast forward to this week. Just before your second class, we went to the dance studio’s store to buy all your gear. You are now the official owner of a leotard, tights, ballet slippers, tap shoes, a baton and a pink dance bag. You were thrilled to get your new clothes, but seemed a bit tentative about dance class and and weren’t pleased I couldn’t stay with you. You were one of the first in class, and I took my place in the waiting area. But as I watched all the other girls come in, I knew your outfit wasn’t complete. Nearly all of them were wearing tutus. PINK tutus.
Frantic, I scanned the walls of the dance store and spotted a rack of tutus. I quickly bought one and asked an employee to take it to you. “Tell her it’s from her Mama. She’ll think it’s better than a bouquet of flowers.”
The employee came out of the classroom all smiles. When she announced that the tutu was for you, she said you gasped and clasped your hands to your mouth, as if you’d just won the lottery. You beamed when she slipped the tutu on you and said you began doing a very happy dance. She was also nice enough to grab this picture of you with my camera during class.
You came out of class this time walking by yourself, proudly carrying your bag and baton. When you spotted me, you ran over and exclaimed, “Look Mama! Look at my ballet moves!” And proceeded to do a kick. It was glorious.
Another exciting moment this month was your very first haircut! Ever! It’s hard to believe your hair existed for three years before ever meeting up with a pair of scissors. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to the salon, but I should’ve known better. Getting a haircut is a fairly girly thing to do, so it was right up your alley. Check out this progression of photos, as you move from unsure to absolutely giddy!
You’ve also enjoyed frequent games of make-believe, and I love seeing what scenarios you create. One of my favorite games is when you pretend to be the “Fairy Godmother,” and apparently your sole purpose is to make me and your Daddy go to sleep. You ask us to lie down, you bring us toys and books and pillows, you bring us a drink of water, even rub our backs and sing songs. “Close your eyes now,” you’ll say.
The other day, Daddy and I were both supposed to be sleeping when your Daddy started talking. You marched right over and snatched the teddy bear from his arms. “Daddy, be quiet. It’s night night time. I’m going to take your bear away.”
A taste of our own medicine, perhaps?
You are also quite the drama queen, and the other night your Daddy happened to have the video camera while we were playing in your room. You were dressed as a fairy (as usual), and decided to re-enact your favorite movie, Tinkerbell. So tonight I close with this video, starring my very favorite fairy princess.
Our Tinkerbell from Ginger on Vimeo.
Bravo, my sweet. Bravo for your Tinkerbell movie, bravo for your dance class and haircut, bravo for all your fun make-believe games. Bravo for being you. I love you so very, very much.
Heads up to my Savannah friends who love books! There is a new e-mentoring program launching in our area which pairs adults with third, fourth or fifth grade students to read and talk about books. It all happens online, so you can participate from the comfort and convenience of home.
The program is called In2Books. You and a pen pal will read 5 books during the school year and send emails back and forth, discussing and reviewing them. I signed up and just finished writing my “Getting to Know You” letter, which will be sent to my pen pal when school starts in September. I’m kind of excited about it actually – I know, I’m a geek.
For my fellow geeks who may be interested in participating, here are the instructions (including a code so that you don’t have to pay for the background check):
1. Go to www.sccpss.com and click on the in2books ICON to begin the registration process.
2. Be sure to enter Savannah from the dropdown list when asked for your affiliation on the registration page.
3. The next step takes you to the background check page. Make sure you use the following promotion code SAV469 on the background check page.
I hopped on the website of my local Congressman, John Barrow, and was pleased to see he has an online survey about health care reform. If you want to weigh in and you live around here too, here’s a link: http://www.barrow.house.gov/
To be honest, I don’t like politics. Never have, probably never will.
But I do like health insurance. And I happen to know that private health insurance sucks. I sat here trying to think of a better, less crude word, but there you have it. It sucks.
I’ve long understood the necessity of health insurance, but I really began to understand how broken our system is when we had to apply for private health insurance last year. The premiums are outrageous, the coverage scant, and we all had issues with pre-existing conditions – even Camille, who at the time had only “existed” for 2 years!
So right now we’re paying an awful lot of money for assistance that will only really kick in if one of us has a serious illness or injury, and we’re spending a lot out-of-pocket on doctor’s visits and prescriptions. But I consider us lucky, because at least we can pay for it, even if it’s a struggle. There should be a better option for us, and there should certainly be a better option for people who can’t afford the insurance premiums from their employer or haven’t been offered coverage at all.
That’s why I was so interested in health reform in the last presidential election, and quite frankly, it seemed like so many others across the nation were interested in health reform too. But now that it’s time to make actual change happen, I feel like the naysayers are drowning the rest of us out. I listen to news reports and I mutter under my breath about what the opposition is saying, but that’s about it.
So I’m resolved to do a couple of things. I’m going to spend some more time learning about the proposed reforms (did some reading on http://www.whitehouse.gov/realitycheck/ tonight), and I’m going to contact my local congressman to let him know there are still those of us out there who are unhappy with the current system and want real change. Gotta start somewhere, right?
Last week a friend shared a few pears with us from his family’s farm … and by a few, I actually mean millions of pears.
Okay, not millions, but a lot of pears. We’ve enjoyed peeling and dicing them and eating them for snacks, but I didn’t have many recipes on hand for pears. So Lee did some digging online and unearthed a few fun ones.
Tonight for dinner: Pear and Prosciutto Pizza. I wouldn’t have thought to put these ingredients together, but it was a good combination of salty and sweet. Even Camille enjoyed this non-traditional dish!
Dessert: Pear and Blueberry Cake. I really enjoyed making this one, partly because the batter was so pretty. Should I even care what the batter looks like? I mean, I’m the only one who even sees it. But it was a lovely almond color with cinnamon bits speckled throughout. The finished product was good, although Lee and I both agreed it could’ve been a little sweeter. If I make it again, I think I’ll toy with the ingredients a little. Camille liked it though, and didn’t even want to use her fork. It’s much easier to shovel it in by hand!
FYI – this will only be funny to Harry Potter fans. But this Harry Potter fan thought it was hilarious. Web Soup, a show on G4TV, ran a twitter contest, looking for the best “yo mama” jokes related to Harry Potter. Loved these!
- Yo Momma’s so fat, her Patronus was a cake
- Yo momma so fat the Sorting Hat put her in all four houses
- Your momma so fat, she looked in the mirror of Erised and saw a ham
- Yo mama so fat she tried to eat Cornelius Fudge
- Yo mama’s so ugly the Dementor’s Kiss was swapped out for a hearty handshake and a promise to give her a call sometime.
- Yo mama so nasty, Dobby wouldn’t take her sock
- your mom is so fat if she confronted a boggart it would morph into a treadmill
- Yo Momma so fat she joined the Death Eaters cause she was hungry
- Yo Momma’s so ugly that even Voldemort won’t speak her name
Thanks to Regal Cinemas, we’ve had the opportunity to go to a few free kid movies this summer. Every Tuesday and Wednesday, our local Regal shows a G rated and a PG rated movie for free – of course we buy popcorn because what’s a movie without popcorn, but other than that it’s gratis. This is great because we aren’t yet eager to pay money to take Camille to a movie. She’s still so young and there is no guarantee she’ll want to stick around long enough to make it worthwhile. But when it’s free? Bring it on!
I’m generally not concerned about G rated movies, but for the PG rated ones I am curious why they didn’t get a G rating. What was it about them that required parental guidance, and would the movie be suitable for Camille? She has been known to get upset about creatures in distress or peril, and is also quite the parrot so I don’t want her repeating anything foul.
Fortunately, there is a website dedicated to explaining the reasons behind the ratings for many, many movies. It’s called kids-in-mind.com. But reading the descriptions of various potentially objectionable scenes is pretty funny, especially taken out of context. I like this one from Charlotte’s Web:
A cow flatulates in a couple of scenes, at one time blowing in the
direction of a rat that is consequently thrown off a fence. A rat burps
loudly, and a cow drools.
From Shrek the Third:
Babies
flatulate in a tub of water and giggle, a baby spits up on a woman, and
babies and another character play in mud. A gingerbread man passes a
gumball when frightened by many guards with swords.
I just like the phrase “chipmunks’ buttocks” from Alvin and the Chipmunks:
A man opens a dishwasher and finds a chipmunk bathing; it covers its
privates and screams. We see three line drawings of chipmunks’ buttocks.
Apparently I am easily amused, with a fairly juvenile sense of humor as you can see. But I thought I’d share in case you also have the sense of humor of a 2nd grader.
We’re settling back in this week after Camille and I took a trip around the southeast, just the two of us. We missed our man terribly, but I was glad Lee was able to enjoy a boys weekend, fishing with his buddies off Tybee. I was a bit nervous about making the trip with Camille to see my parents in Tennessee, but she did really well on the drive. The biggest problem was containing her excitement about seeing Nana and Granddaddy. “I’m going to ride in Granddaddy’s golfcart!” I heard over and over again.
Granddaddy was kind enough to oblige, and he and Nana whisked her off for a golf cart ride around the neighborhood not long after we arrived. Camille and Granddaddy even got to play a bit of golf, but Camille insisted they only play on the practice green. “I just like the little flags,” she informed us.
After a few days in Tennessee, we drove south to visit with Nikki and the gang in Winder. Camille was good on that drive too, repeating over and over, “I’m going to play with their dress up clothes!”
And indeed she did. Camille nearly fainted with joy when she walked into Nia’s room. It’s painted bright pink with a border of crowns, accented with princess stickers. There is a princess castle and plenty of princess dolls, and stuffed animals nestled together all around the room. Nia was SO NICE to Camille, sharing all of her toys and being the perfect hostess. Poor Nate wanted to play with her too, and Camille loves her “Natey-Nate” as she calls him, but he couldn’t convince her to come into his room and play. So Nate showed he was a real trooper and decided to join the girls instead of be left out. I’m thinking we’ll hang on to this photo in case these two get married one day. It’ll be good for the photo slideshow at the rehearsal dinner.
That is one happy Camille.
I just love this picture. One of Camille’s birthday presents was a pink laptop, and the first day she got it, she announced, “I have to make a little website!” Lee and I thought this was hilarious, given our professions, and only wish we’d known that we could make little websites with a toddler computer. How convenient! Later, she said she was going to make a recipe – I guess because half of the time she sees me with my laptop open I’m cooking from an online recipe.
But this picture is especially fun because she’s also wearing her beloved fairy wings (another birthday gift). She’s also playing with three of Lee’s old school Star Wars toys. She knows the two princesses are princesses, but the AT-AT Commander she calls a robot. She loves to get them out of Lee’s display cabinet, sit them on the floor and have conversations with them about princess-y and robot-y things. But on this day, she wanted to show them how to use the computer. How cute that she would teach Lee’s old toys new tricks. I wonder what that 7-year-old Lee would have thought if he could’ve seen this future for his toys? I think it’s pretty sweet.
Hello birthday princess! Can it be? Are you really three? It is hard for me to believe that in just three years you can change so much from a tiny, helpless baby into this beautiful, loving, vibrant and happy girl. GIRL! I definitely can’t call you a baby any more (although I’m sure I still will). I mean, you’re now old enough that even the toy manufacturers generally agree you can be trusted with small toys and other heretofore forbidden objects. Now “ages 3 and up” applies to you too, my big girl!
And what big girl things you’ve been doing lately! I’m very proud to say you are now … (do you hear the drum roll?) using the potty and done with diapers! Your school was closed for a week around July 4th, and since we weren’t traveling and had extra time at home, we decided to ditch the diapers and see what might happen. And you did so well! This was just the most recent in a list of huge transitions that have all taken place in the last few months – moving from a crib to a big-girl bed, giving up your pacifiers and now potty training too. And you’ve handled it all just beautifully.
Do you know one of the things I’ve enjoyed so much lately? Hearing you talk. And talk and talk. When you really get going, I can barely brush your teeth because you just can’t pause long enough for that kind of interruption. And I love this verbal insight into the workings of your mind. The other day Daddy asked you a timeless joke, and you gave it a new, rather practical twist.
Daddy: “Camille, why did the chicken cross the road?”
You: “Because it was ridiculous.”
I see your point.
A few mornings ago you finished brushing your teeth, handed me your toothbrush and declared, “Now my teeth are literally clean.”
Literally? I suppose they were, although I didn’t realize literally was part of your vocabulary. There are some other words you say from time to time that I don’t understand, but interpretation is becoming quite easy because they all mean basically the same thing. Earlier, out of nowhere you said, “Candle crackers.”
“Candle crackers?” I replied. “What does that mean?”
“It means, ‘Mommy, hello!'” you brightly declared.
Now, nearly any time you say a nonsense word and I ask for the definition, it’s either “Mommy, hello!” or “Daddy, hello!”
Quite often, we also see a reflection of ourselves when you talk. The other day you picked up your toy phone and announced you were calling Uncle Dave. You had quite a lengthy conversation, but it mostly consisted of the phrase, “So, anyway…” I started paying attention, and sure enough, I say that a lot.
So anyway…
You’ve had a very big birthday weekend, with a party at home on Saturday, a party at church on Sunday, lots of visiting friends and relatives, and then a party at school tomorrow. I’m afraid Tuesday may be a disappointment to you when you realize we’re not having yet another party.
Saturday we let you open a few gifts early, and you loved the new princess outfit Aunt Linda got you. You wanted to wear your new “party dress,” and looked adorable in your pink satin and tulle, some pink high heels (you walk in heels better than I do) and a festive birthday crown.
You’d asked for an Abby Cadabby-themed birthday party and an Abby-Cadabby cake. I enjoy making your birthday cakes myself, and was determined to decorate your cake using fondant to make the shapes for Abby Cadabby’s face. I’d never used fondant before and to be honest, I was a little nervous about how it all might turn out. I stayed up very late Friday night and into Saturday morning working on it, the whole time just hoping you’d at least be able to tell it was Abby Cadabby on your cake.
When it was almost party time on Saturday, I uncovered the cake and you gasped, putting a hand over your mouth as you just stared at it. I knew the cake wasn’t perfect, but at that moment, watching the happiness spread across your face, all the hard work was absolutely worth it.
As your friends arrived for the party, you greeted them at the door like a perfect princess host, welcoming them to your castle. After the cake we moved the festivities to the backyard where you and your buddies splashed around in the pools and sprinklers. Here’s a video recap of your fun day.
Saturday night at bed-time, we sat in your rocking chair like we always do, talking about the day. Our night time routine is something I treasure so much. We read a book, sing a song, and sometimes linger in that chair for a while chatting or just cuddling. You love giving and receiving butterfly kisses, or just holding my hand while we talk. And Saturday, I asked you if you had fun at your Abby Cadabby party. “Yes,” you said, “And Mama, you did a great job on my cake.”
I just couldn’t say anything for a minute. No one told you to say that. No one was talking about your cake at that moment. You just thought of it yourself and wanted to say thank you. I was speechless, not just because you liked your cake, but because I was overwhelmed by what a sweet and loving child you are. You are quick to tell me you love me, to throw your arms around my neck, to show your affection and gratitude.
We have a little running joke. Sometimes when I give you a kiss, I’ll pretend it turns into nibbles. “No Mama!” you say with a note of indignance. “I’m not food!”
“But you’re so sweet!” I’ll rationalize. And it’s true. Sometimes you’re so incredibly sweet I think I might actually take a bite one day.
