I know, I’m ridiculously sappy, but watching Camille at the Christmas parade tonight just melted me. As each float or marcher wound by our spot in Reynolds Square, Camille waved with a mittened hand and called out, “Hi! Merry Christmas!” I felt all misty-eyed, and I’m not even sure why. It was just so sweet, and I loved watching her get caught up in the excitement. More than once I thought, “this is totally why we have kids.”
I don’t have any pics from the parade because it was a night-time parade of lights and not easy to photograph. But the parade was just the icing on a very Christmas-y day. This morning, we went to Riverstreet for a downtown Christmas celebration, and Camille loved checking out all the decorations outside one of the local hotels.
Then this afternoon, we picked out our Christmas tree. She seemed to enjoy the outing, but I believe the highlight for her was not choosing the tree, but receiving a candy cane from the workers!
Several years ago, before Lee and I had a child and still had lots of free time, I made our Christmas stockings. It seemed like a fun, creative project of minimal difficulty, and I enjoyed giving each of us a unique stocking. Mine has a cat made to look like Luca, and his has a Millie dog.
When Camille was born, I fully intended to make her a stocking too, but I had two excuses. Number one, I had a child to care for. Number two, my machine broke as I finished making our first stockings, so I didn’t have easy access to a sewing machine.
But I have a machine now, and this is Camille’s third Christmas and she seriously needs a stocking. So last night, I set out to make her one.
It was a little harder than I remembered (or maybe I’m rustier), and there were many four-letter words uttered during the sewing of the white fluffy top on the stocking. It kept getting hung in the machine. And while I love Camille’s name, I had not considered how difficult it would be to cut out that many felt letters and fit them on a stocking. Anyway, I finally finished the basic stocking and then it was on to the fun part.
My idea for her stocking (well, it was Lee’s idea really) was to decorate it with something she likes, but in a way that can be changed next year. Her current love is Foofa, one of the characters from the Yo Gabba Gabba TV show. So I used some felt to create a Foofa on her stocking, and tacked it on with just a few stitches so it will be easy to remove in the future and replace with something else. I don’t imagine 16-year-old Camille will want a Foofa stocking. Just a guess.
I was happy with how it turned out. Definitely not perfect, but if I had wanted perfection I would’ve bought a stocking from the store.
In photos, the bright pink Foofa doesn’t stand out particularly well against the red stocking, but oh well!
Camille LOVES it, and that is the best part of all!
Last month, we had our annual family photo shoot. I say annual, although this was only the second year we’ve done it. But I really enjoy having professional family photos, so I’m planning for this to be an annual tradition.
Rather than a studio shoot, we wanted more candid shots. We take a lot of candids of Camille, but usually one of us is behind the camera. So we wanted candids of us just hanging out being a family. And I was very happy with the pics!
“Chase” is still one of Camille’s favorite games, and I was glad the photographer got these shots as Camille ran around Forsyth Park yelling, “I get you! I get you!”
Gotcha!
I love this picture of a sweet nose kiss with one of my favorite fountains in the background.
There was a birthday party happening nearby, and the photographer asked the partygoers if he could have a balloon for our shoot. Camille was thrilled with her yellow balloon (they didn’t have pink). But the photographer also captured what unfolded next, which I think needs no captions.
Fortunately, the nice birthday folks realized what happened and were kind enough to let her have another yellow balloon. Good people!
Now I just have the difficult task of deciding which pictures to print and frame. It’s a good problem to have.
Thanksgiving was great, especially since we got to visit with Boo, Erin, Dave and Jones for several days. But I’m pretty mad at myself for forgetting my cameras. Argh! I’ll post some pics once they send me some from their cameras…
Anyway, I always try to restrain from any Christmas revelry until Thanksgiving has passed, despite the valiant efforts of the department stores. But now I’m like – BRING IT. I would’ve loved to get a tree today, but it has been pouring for 2 days straight and I’m sure all the beauties at the Lion’s Club lot are sopping wet.
But this hasn’t stopped me from talking to Camille about Christmas. We’ve been asking her what she wants from Santa, and so far this is her list:
A pink one (not sure what exactly it is, but it had better be pink)
Princess shoes
Batmobile
Foofa (the pink character in one of her favorite TV shows, Yo Gabba Gabba)
I’ve also been trying to get her hyped up about having her picture made with Santa at the mall. Her first Christmas, we got this cute photo:
Last Christmas, we stood in line, but it was clearly not happening. She kept saying, “No, no no,” and I didn’t want to force her into that strange bearded man’s lap.
This year she seemed open to the idea, but I was skeptical. She’s not as terrified of costumed characters as she used to be, but she’s still wary. This afternoon, I asked her if she wanted to go to the mall – I was just planning to let her play there since it’s so rainy outside. She piped up, “And go see Santa! And have my picture with him!!!!”
Since she seemed up for it, we agreed, and off we went. She remained excited until we actually saw him, then her grip around my body tightened. She buried her head in my shoulder and peered at him timidly.
Once we approached, she was willing to talk to him from the safety of her Daddy’s arms, and told him she wanted princess shoes. However, she didn’t seem interested in sitting with him. But this was a seasoned Santa, and he asked for a hug. She leaned in and hugged him, and Santa deftly plopped her onto his lap before she could object. And miraculously, she seemed okay with it! She even looked at the camera and said, “Cheese!”
And once it was all said and done, and I think she was pretty proud of herself and excited about her adventure. She has definitely been a good girl this year, so I think Santa will find a way to bring her some princess shoes this Christmas.
Tonight, we were sitting on the living room couch when Lee pulled Camille up into his lap and declared it was “Cuddle Time!” Camille spread her arms open wide and flung herself at us saying, “Hug both!”
After a giant family hug, she said, “Kiss me Daddy!” Which he did. Then she said, “Kiss me Mommy!” Which I did. Then she tuned around to sit in both of our laps and announced, “This is my family.”
So … what do I want most for Christmas? A new washing machine? A new water line under the house? Or repairs to my refrigerator? Maybe, if I’m a really good girl, I can have all three!
I don’t know what’s up, but I have offended the spirits of water or something. A few weeks ago, our washing machine broke. We paid a guy 70 bucks to tell us it wasn’t worth fixing, so we paid many hundreds of dollars for a new one.
Then yesterday, our neighbor knocked on the door to say water was seeping into his backyard and he thinks it’s coming from our house. Sure enough, there was a huge pool of standing water on the side of the house we never see. Our plumber crawled under the house and declared there was “a lake under there.” Our old water line has sprung a leak and must be replaced because it’s too old and weak to repair.
Having barely digested this bit of info, I went to get a glass of cold water from the dispenser in the refrigerator door – except it wouldn’t stop spraying water. I pulled my cup away and water just poured onto the floor. I frantically hit the little lever repeatedly until finally it stopped.
What the heck? Are we going to spend big bucks on the fridge too? And just in time for Christmas! Hooray!
Bah humbug.
Camille and I just got home from her preschool Thanksgiving Feast, which was such a cute little party. Other than her school birthday parties, this is the first party we’ve been invited to at her preschool or daycare, and I have been excitedly awaiting this one. The parents were asked to bring food, and I just figured we’d all hang out and nibble on turkey and watch the kids play.
I don’t know why I didn’t really expect a “program” for the kids her age, but as it turns out, her teacher had planned a very cute one which involved the kids dressing up like turkeys and doing a few songs with dances. So I was a little surprised when I walked in 5 minutes late to the sound of applause, and realized with absolute horror that parents were clapping because the program had just ended.
I really wanted to cry, to pitch an honest-to-goodness 2-year-old tantrum right there on the floor of the preschool. But I had no one to blame but myself. The school seems pretty relaxed about schedule in general, so I figured things wouldn’t really get rolling for another 15 minutes or so. I have no good excuse either, I was pricing DVD players at Best Buy for goodness sake.
And I’m really having trouble forgiving myself for this one. I should have been there, not just on time, but early. It’s one thing to miss an event like this because of work or an unavoidable obligation, but I absolutely should have been there. It makes me crazy to have missed watching her perform, but makes me crazier to wonder if she was looking for me in the crowd. I am just sick about it. I’m sure this is probably another of my typical overreactions, but I’m just so sad. Rest assured, I won’t be late again.
I kept it together because I didn’t want her to think I was upset, and made her a plate of food and we enjoyed a picnic together outside with her classmates. She had a really good time playing and showing off her turkey “crown” as she calls it, and her adorable tail feathers.
I do believe she’s the cutest turkey ever, and I’m glad I was able to be there for the lunch and playground time at least. If I don’t get my act together though, I’ll never be Mother of the Year or PTA President… I gotta do better than this.
Hello sweet sleeping angel, and Happy 28-month birthday! I’m sitting on the couch as I type this, listening to your sweet, satisfyingly deep breaths on the baby monitor, and thinking about how much I love you.
This time 28 months ago, you weren’t even 2 hours old. And now, all these months later, you’ve become very interested in the idea of being in utero. This began a couple of weeks ago when you saw a picture of me when I was pregnant with you. Your Daddy explained you were a tiny baby in mommy’s tummy. You bring it up quite often, but especially after bath time. We take you out of the water, wrap you tightly in a towel and cradle you in our arms, and then we call you our tiny little baby.
“I’m a tiny baby in mommy’s tummy!” you say.
Then we begin this elaborate nightly game of pretend. “Oh look at this tiny baby!” we say. “She’s so tiny I bet she can’t even talk yet!”
“Hi!!” you chime brightly.
“Wow! She can talk!” we remark, followed by something like, “but I bet she can’t count to ten.”
“One, two, three…” and you count to 10 perfectly.
“Oh my goodness! But I bet she can’t count to 10 in Spanish!”
“Uno, dos, tres…” and so on.
“But could she possibly make monkey noises, too?” And of course, you oblige.
I am constantly amazed by the things you can do, baby girl! You are so smart, and your creativity is starting to blossom too. You’ve been playing pretend for a while now, but recently you’ve taken things up a notch by coming up with alternate uses for ordinary toys. For example, you’ve been playing tea party for months, pretending to sip imaginary tea from a cup. But the other day, you turned your cup upside down and pressed the open side against your neck. You wanted me to do it too.
“Like a doctor,” you said. I wasn’t sure what you meant.
“How is this like a doctor?” I asked, pressing the cup against my own neck.
“Listen to my heart,” you said. “Sounds like a drum.” Then I realized you were pretending the cup was really a stethescope – smarty!
You’ve also begun expanding your musical expression as well. A few months ago we captured audio of you singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” in the car. Well, a couple of weeks ago Daddy snagged this great audio of you singing and playing piano too. We were at church and you were banging away at the keys and came up with this Twinkle Star – Barney – Baa Baa Black Sheep mash-up. I especially love your intensity halfway through the song!
That recording also makes me laugh because of the way it ends. “That’s mine!” is probably your favorite phrase these days, perhaps second only to “I want to watch Maisy Mouse.” Sometimes you’re very serious about possessing something, but sometimes you’re just being funny. You’ll hold my hand and exclaim, “My fingers! These my fingers.” I’ll be holding you and you’ll point to my forehead and say, “These my eyebrows.” In the audio recording, I’d just walked out of the church’s kitchen with a bowl, and you had to stop your performance to declare, “That’s mine. My bowl.” Silly girl.
You’ve also become quite the backseat driver these days. You understand the basics of traffic signals – green means go, red means stop, and you seem very interested in the lights. As we approach an intersection, you almost always yell out, “Green, Mama! It’s green!” But you say this no matter what color it is, even though I know you know the difference.
“Camille – what color is that?”
“It’s red, Mama,” you’ll confess. “Might turn green,” you add. Then when it does, I hear outbursts of “It’s greeeeeeeeeeeeen!” from the backseat.
Your backseat driving is cute except for those few times I’ve almost believed you. If we’re sitting at a red light and I’m adjusting the radio or something, you’ll yell out, “It’s green, Mama!” And I’ll come close to releasing the brake as I look up, only to find it as red as it has been.
“Camille… what color is that?” I’ll ask.
“Red, Mama,” you say in a conspiratorial tone.
I love all of our little games, peanut. You definitely keep us entertained, and I think it’s so much fun to communicate with you, whether we’re being serious or just being silly.
Speaking of serious things, something very important happened in our country last month. You may have slept through the celebration, but I’m hoping you’ll still reap the benefits of the choice our nation made to elect Barack Obama as the 44th President of the United States. I know he wasn’t your first choice. The night before the election, I asked you if you wanted to vote for John McCain or Barack Obama. You said, “O’Mama.” Thank you sweetie, but I’m not qualified to lead this country. Fortunately, I think Obama is.
I felt he was the right choice for reasons that had nothing to do with race (hello healthcare plan, I’m looking at you), but I am also very proud that our country has elected an African-American President. I hope one day you’ll ask me about this, ask me where I was when it happened, ask me what I was thinking and feeling. I hope you’ll ask questions because it will seem so odd to you, just like the idea of segregated schools does to me. I still find it hard to believe my parents went to school during a time when people of different races weren’t permitted to learn in adjacent desks, and they were there to witness desegregation. We’ve come a long way from those times, and I’m proud to feel I was a tiny, tiny part of this most recent step forward. And I hope his election will not only bring about political reforms that improve your future, but is also a sign of social reforms that will result in a more accepting, more just society.
You deserve it. You deserve a future as bright as your sweet smile, and trust me, that’s really bright. I love you little bear, and I’m so thankful to be part of your yesterday and today, and can’t wait for tomorrow. I love you.
Last weekend, Oatland Island (one of our favorite kid-friendly locales) hosted their annual Cane Grinding Festival. Nana and Granddaddy were in town and joined Camille and me for the event. After Camille showed them her favorite barn animals, we hopped on a trailer for a hayride to their “homestead” exhibit.
The exhibit area features a series of old pioneer-era homes and outbuildings. It’s like stepping onto the set of Little House on the Prairie, and I think it’s great that places like this exist so close to our home. I will enjoy talking to Camille about it when she’s old enough to understand that yes, indeed, a family of twelve lived in that little cabin that is the size of our living room.
During the festival, horses are used to turn the gears to grind sugar cane. Then the syrup is boiled in nearby vats, and you can taste the cane juice and sample some syrup. Which, of course, we did!
We also listened to live music …
… and Granddaddy couldn’t resist a dance with his littlest partner.
Camille also sweet-talked her Nana into buying her this plastic alligator. It didn’t have anything to do with the theme of the festival, but don’t tell her that. She loves her Alli!
Having dinner with Camille can be sweet, fun, and maddening too. Lately, Camille has been acting her age and doing some more of those things for which toddlers are famous – like saying “No!” a lot and working to manipulate a situation just to see exactly when and how she can assert control.
Here are just a few examples from tonight’s dinner.
On her plate were some grilled shrimp, pineapple and steamed carrots. “I don’t like carrots!” she announced as we set the plate down. This, despite the fact that she often gobbles them up by the handful.
She reached for the pineapple, only to complain that it had something green on it. Cilantro was part of the marinade on the shrimp and pineapple skewers – horrors! She ate a few bites, but wasn’t happy about the green. Same problem with the shrimp.
We kept trying to get her to eat carrots. We’d make our carrots dance and talk about how we were having a great carrot party. She just looked at Lee and said, “Daddy, you’re so silly,” and left the carrots on her plate.
Finally, when we convinced her to try one, she popped it in her mouth, chewed a second, then promptly spit it out. Good grief.
But we had a rare ace up our sleeves – leftover birthday cupcakes with pink frosting. “Hey Camille,” Lee said. “You can have a cupcake if you’ll eat some carrots.”
More quickly than ought to be possible, she tossed a carrot in her mouth, chewed and exclaimed, “They’re so yummy!” It’s amazing how quickly her tone changed!
She still winced when she swallowed the carrots, but she put on a good show and ate several for us. Then when I went to get the cupcake, I asked her what color flower she wanted on her cupcake. Purple or blue? Not that it mattered, but since I know it’s important for toddlers to be able to make choices, I try to give her the opportunity when I can.
“Pink,” she said.
“The icing is pink, but the flowers are purple or blue. Which would you like?” I asked.
“Pink.”
Repeat this conversation a few more times, and you get the idea. I gave up and went for the purple.
But it’s worth it – we still get lots of smiles and chatter and laughs from her during dinnertime, so I can put up with these two-isms. Coming from her – they even seem cute.
