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5.26.2007 Today was Meridian's 3rd birthday. We had a TERRIFIC day. This is the first year she's really been excited about having a party. We hosted her party at home, and had an arts and crafts theme. I had tote bags for the kids to decorate with all different types of "paint brushes" including toy cars to track through the paint, rubber string balls to splotch in the paint, various stampers, sponges, etc. I thought that would take a while, but it was over in almost 30 seconds. And in most cases, resulted in all the colors being mixed until they made one thick dark mucky color covering the entire tote. After that, we moved on to castle decorating. Ryan and I had built a big castle out of four appliance boxes, and we made various materials available to the kids to decorate it with. I have loads of various old wallpapers rolls I've saved from various rooms in two homes for future crafts, so it was great to finally put them to use. We cut strips of wallpaper and provided big vat of glue water. When they ran out of wall paper, we began filling their hands with shaving cream and spooning in powder tempera paint for them to paint the castle with. (This is a favorite painting activity of Meridian's, so I knew the kids would love it.) They did the castle for an hour easily, loving the shaving cream. Before too long, the younger kids discovered the idea of painting themselves instead. One minute they were all smocked up in brightly colored over-sized t-shirts; the next they were stripped to their undies with painted bellies. They played that way until they exhausted their interest, and we let them all run through the water hose. And then we moved on to cake! I was nervous about how she might do with the singing, but she was great - totally not minding being in the spotlight. Kaitlynn blew her candles out for her, and I tried to pass it off with a "Yay!" But it didn't get by her. She said "Where's my fire to blow?" So we relit them, and she blew 'em out. She had fun opening gifts, thought you wouldn't know it from the photos where she seems so serious! Each time she opened something, she would let out a little gasp that was so cute! She was totally impressed with a princess dress she got from her friend Millie and had to don it immediately. And then Papi came out with her new bike, and she climbed right on, hoop skirt and all. Cute as a button in her baby blue princess dress with her huge red helmet on her pink bicycle! It was a great day! We were happy to be joined by Meridian's friends Millie, Blaise, Skyler, Gauge, Sierra, and Ira, and her cousins Shelby and Kaitlynn. It's hard to believe three years have passed already. It's so easy to recall the day she joined us, and the tiny baby she was. 5.22.2007 I came upon Meridian this morning, clutching a pair of scissors, and trying to push them out of my line of vision. a quick glance around told me she's been cutting the warthog's tail off of her Tails book. I felt a flutter of relief, thinking what she could have been cutting, but the flutter was drowned out by the voice in my head that kept repeating, "Kids at this age cut their hair, Dawn. They cut their hair." So I asked her if she'd cut any of her own hair, and she answered with a cheerfully proud, "Yes!" Then she pointed to the small pile of hair I'd somehow missed: four or five curly locks laying in a pile on the carpet. Luckily, after examining her head, I think this will go largely unnoticed. There is one place right on top on her left where she cut off a pretty good chunk of hair (about the as big as a golf ball). If her hair would straigh, she would have a very obvious missing patch there. But because it's curly, the remaining curls on top fall over it, and hide it from view. A few of the other cuts, shortened existing locks, but didn't take them all the way up to the scalp. Luckily I came upon her before she had much longer with the scissors. I told her I was surprised she wanted to cut her hair since she is always trying to make it longer, and asked her if she wanted short hair. She said no, she just wants to cut things. Can you tell cutting is a new skill?! So, I explained that I would be happy to let her cut all kinds of things, but that she needs to ask me, and that hair, clothes, and skin are always off limits. When David popped his head in, she hid her face and wouldn't tell him what she did. I asked her why she wouldn't tell Papi, and she said she was embarrassed. Why do I think it's adorable that she knew to be embarrassed? 5.20.2007 Meridian has had a sense of humor since she was a baby; it's always been one of her notable traits. This week, she latched on to the idea of a formal joke. Here were some of her favorites this week: Me: Meridian, can you say "no"? 5.08.2007 Today was an incredibly windy day. Trees bending over kind of windy day. So gusty, you hear the wind from inside the house kind of windy day. Inspiration hit: kite-flying day! I have a beautiful handmade single string kite that our friend Bruce made for me several years ago. It's an easy beginner kite. David had to work, so Meridian and I set off by ourselves on our adventure, which started in the garage trying to find the kite line. Not able to find it, and not wanting to lose any more time, we set out and decided to stop at the store on the way. We hit Walmart, thinking an all-purpose store was the safest bet. They had this really cool 55lb kite line on a spool that unspins itself. Awesome. And we're off to the park. The wind is so strong that we have to lean over and walk into it so as not to stumble backward. Walking under a weeping willow, I got lashed in the face with a stray brach, and should have taken that as a sign. We pressed on. We were headed to Mount Trashmore, a local park that is also the tallest hill around (being that it used to be a landfill). We got a good spot on the hill, hooked up our kite, and with no trouble got it into the air. I was letting it go a little higher, slowly, slowly. Meridian was enthralled. And then the gust of wind. My hand slipped off the "brake" on my kite line spinner, and it started unwinding. I tried to stop it, and nearly broke my thumb; and like that in no time at all, 200 yards of string unwound. Our kite looked so far away and small, and the wind carried it over the lake as one last gust unwound the remaining string, and carried our kite away. Into the lake. Meridian burst into tears, "Why did you break it? Why did you break out kite?" And into the lake it went. So, we collected ourselves, and headed down that way. I silently reflected on how un-earth-friendly it was to throw my kite into the lake, since this was the day Mount Trashmore had selected to host an Earth Day celebration (no idea why so late, but so be it). We got down to the dock where a nice man was trying to collect our string (either he was a nice man, or he was counting on a free kite :P). We managed to dig the kite out of the lake, rewind all the string, and set back up the hill to start again. Second try, I decided to hold the winder very tightly, and not use the spinning feaute at all. I also decided not to let the kite get very high. And so it was that a strong gust of wind yanked violently at our kite, hovering about 15 feet above us, until the line snapped and the kite went once again flying down the hill. "Why are you breaking it again? I need Papi. Why did you break the kite?" Meridian pled as I ran down the hill, hoping to get to our runaway kite before another good gust took it into the air and beyond my grasp. Luckily, we did get it, and we packed it away realizing our line was no match for this wind. We headed back up the hill to collect our things, but found a much better distraction in our bag: bubbles. The bubbles were fantastic because we didnt' have to blow a single time. Dip the stick, and hold it to the wind. We had oodles of different types of bubble wands, and tried them all. And tend of thousands of bubbles went flying down the hill at record speed. We couldn't chanse them at all because they were just too fast. But there was a special joy in watching the kids at the bottom of the hill playing in the bubbles we were providing: kind of like "a round of drinks on me" but for the six and under set. 4.12.2007 Belated Easter greetings to everyone! We had a great time, just a quiet relaxed day at home with family. Ryan and the girls came down for the weekend. Easter morning was sweet. The night before, we had the kids set out their empty Easter baskets along with a plate of carrots for the Easter Bunny. The next morning, the kids each found a plastic egg with a hint in it, and were off on the search for their baskets. They turned out to be a bit too young for this game, and were mostly confused about why their baskets were missing. But they played along, and after three hints, each girl found her basket. I didn't take any pictures if you can believe it! But we just got our video camera back, which has been broken for some time, and I was too thrilled to be able to video. I did get egg-dying pics a few days earlier though (more in the 2.5yr gallery):    After the baskets, we slowly meandered down to breakfast, and followed that up with an indoor Easter egg hunt (since it snowed! the day before Easter). Since we were indoors, the Easter Bunny didn't hide their real eggs and they were disappointed about that for a few minutes, but when they discovered that the plastic eggs had booty inside 'em (stickers and coins), they got into it. They REALLY LOVED the egg hunt. There were about 60 eggs hidden around the downstairs, and by the time the egg hunt was done, Ryan and David were asleep on the couch, propped against each other. So, I amused the kids for a couple of hours with puppet shows and Easter stories. Then they wanted to take turns being the Easter Bunny and hiding the eggs, while the other child would find them. (Shelby opted out of this game, preferring to finally have the dollhouse to herself!) They were funny about these egg hunt re-enactments. Meridian would hide her eggs, and when it was Kaitlynn's turn to seek them, Meridian would get a pained anxious face whenever she got near to a hiding space, and then pre-emptively run over and recover her own hidden egg. Meanwhile, when Kaitlynn played Easter Bunny, she would hide them all and then when it was Meridian's turn to seek them, she would instruct her where to look. So funny, their own little personalities shine through. In the early afternoon, I took my own nap, and the other two adults played and entertained the kids. For dinner, we'd planned to join friends for a little dinner party but Shelby had an unexpected case of pink-eye (or so we thought)and we bowed out. (Turns out it was a blocked tear duct that had become infected.) So, we pulled together our own Easter dinner: steaks and scallops with butter cream sauce (and believe me when I tell you that that cream sauce sounds way better than it actually WAS), glazed baby carrots ("the Easter Bunny's recipe" - how's that for getting kids to eat 'em!), nutmeg mashed potatoes, and baked raspberry brie. All in all a good quiet memory-making kind of day. And for kicks, my two favorite Easter memories:
3.31.2007 We teach our kids a lot of things, but boy do they teach us. Those worthwhile lessons - the ones that we spend a great deal of time wondering how impart to them - those are the ones I find that she teaches me instead. "Believe in yourself." - What a biggie, right? We spend our childhoods hearing it, and our parenthood trying to get our children to internalize it. But I'm beginning to wonder if they don't come with that part already figured out. When I reflect on those big infant and toddler transitions (moving to the crib, sleeping through the night, weaning, potty-training, separation anxiety, moving to a big bed, etc.) and the way we handled them, they all seem to follow one of two patterns. Either, I reach my readiness point before she does, based primarily on what other people's children are doing or what other parents seem to expect. I struggle with the unmet goal in my head for a time, question my parenting, and wonder if I shouldn't force the issue with Meridian. After usually 2-3 weeks of deep contemplation and discussion with David, I fall back to my instincts which tell me that she knows better than I do when she will be ready for these transitions, and so I let go, only occasionally revisiting them and going through a mini-version of that same cycle. In every instance, she arrives at the goal in her time (which ironically, is not generally very long after my decision not to push her), and says to me without words, "Believe in me Mommy, because I can do this." Or, in the second scenario, she reaches her readiness point before I'm ready for that next great adventure in parenting, as she did with potty-training and transitioning into a twin bed. In these cases, I have to push down the part of me that wants to say "We're not ready for this; you're still my baby," in order to be able to project the "Yes! Let's do it!" enthusiasm she needs. Each time, I wonder if she's biting off more than she can chew, and if we won't both pay for it as a result. Each time, she reaches her goal with pride and ownership, and I tell myself "Believe in her, Dawn, so that she can continue to believe in herself." "Patience is a virtue." - Doesn't it seems like patience is only really a virtue when you need it to be? Because when someone else is counting on that virtue, I'm generally thinking "Couldn't we move this along a little faster?" And I confess, I fall into "Here, let me do that for you," more often than I care to admit. I didn't realize how much I say "Hurry up" until Meridian recently said pre-emptively as she climbed into her carseat, "Don't do it for me, I'm hurrying." I should be teaching it to her, but instead she's teaching it to me: Slow down, Mama. Patience is a virtue. "What I have to say is important." - As all parents of toddlers do, we have struggled with the unceasing interruptions to our adult conversations. Even when trying to be polite, a steady stream of "excuseme-excuseme-excuseme-excuseme" is not generally a welcome sound. Recently, we had friends over who use "the interrupt rule" and after seeing it in practice, I decided on the spot to adopt it. It works like this: when Meridian wants to speak, but person she wants to talk to is already talking, she places her hand on the other person's leg (or arm or back or wherever she can reach). The other person covers her hand with his to indicate to Meridian that he knows she is there and he will be with her momentarily. He then continues his conversion until the opportunity to excuse himself for a moment presents itself. He then asks for a minute, and turns to Meridian to address her needs. It took a few days of practicing, but Meridian LOVES this system and respects it. In fact, when we just started it, she was so eager to practice it that she preferred to roleplay 'the interrupt rule' instead of doing our evening tickles or piano or dancing fun. It turns out that the rule unintentionally serves two purposes, the first being the obvious one of stopping the steady stream of rude interruptions. The second has been to bring to light how often we unthinkingly interrupt Meridian or talk over what she is in the process of saying when something pops up that we want to say to each other. I've been unaware that we even do this, but since we've put the interrupt rule into play, Meridian has had to several times point out "Papi, you didn't use the interrupt rule! I was talking to Mommy; you need to put your hand here on my leg." The first few times, we thought that was adorable. But after we started to hear it more, we realized that while we're teaching her that interrupting is rude, we're not modeling that behavior with her, and we're not teaching her that "what she has to say is important." "What is right overrides what is convenient." - This has been an ongoing lesson that Meridian teaches us over and over as the urge to bend to convenience manifests itself. She gasps and says "Mommy, you have shoes on on the carpet" or "Mommy, you're standing on a chair, you need to get a step!" David recently got a little miffed with me because Meridian kept telling him that he couldn't be outside without shoes on - he might step on a piece of glass or a bumble bee. He was irritated with the inconvenience and wondered if I wasn't giving Meridian useless rules that he was then being limited by. After some discussion, we came to the conclusion that we have to teach her what we think is right. We can revisit and reverse previous teachings if we no longer think they are right, but we can't do it because it's convenient to us. "What is right overrides what is convenient." And so she teaches us the things we are supposed to be teaching her. I hope I am as interested and receptive an audience when she teaches me the lessons that the teen years will undoubtedly bring. 3.30.2007 Last week we had a nice warm 65º day. A seed of motivation planted itself in my brain, and we undertook the project of preparing our raised garden bed to plant a vegetable garden. We had the bed built last summer, and it's grown a lot of weeds and no vegetables since then, so I figured while there was any motivation at all, I'd better grab hold of it. We spent that entire 65º day digging out weeds and the clay dirt mountain in the middle of the bed. We made a pretty good team. I did the majority of the digging and weeding, while Meridian collected a worm garden. David joined uus after a bit, and Meridian delighted in requesting specific worm relatives to add to her worm family. "Now I need a Grandmommy worm." While she wasn't leaping into the dirt and squishing mud in her fingers, she made a small bit of progress on her total aversion to dirtiness. She would touch the worms after all, and she didn't cry when her shovel got dirty. The next day, ready to jump right in again, we were greeted with 50º weather. Still, that motivation being there, we had to work through it. We managed, despite the cold, to lay chicken wire, add topsoil and manure, and cover with weed fabric and mulch. Yay! Go us! The following day, we quite unexpectedly had beautiful 80º weather (if only we had the presence of mind to check the weekly forecast, but alas, that's just not our style)! So we went from hats and gloves one day to tank tops the next. Gotta love Spring! Here's we are - hot and cold:   And might I just add, that organic gardening is way more involved than I ever imagined! I thought I'd pretty much manage an organic garden (and save myself a boatload of produce grocery money) by just not spraying pesticides on my growing veggies. Shopping for the necessities clued me in a bit, and I found myself coughing up extran dough for organic soil, organic manure, organic seeds, and organic seedlings! Goodness! I mean it all makes sense, when you think about it, but wowsers, I've never stopped to think about it. More garden photos in the 2.5 year gallery. :) 3.08.2007 So, I wrote last month about teaching Meridian the words areola and nipple. I jotted down a note the following day because she made the funniest correlation, but I'm only now getting around to relaying it. When I told her the names of the parts of the breast, she characteristically asked "Why?" and I told her it was because each of the parts of our body has a name and those are the names of those parts. I didn't think anything of it. That night, while diapering her for bed she reached down and patted the front of her diaper and said, "This is Tori" and then patted her bottom, and said, "And this is Jill." Dumbfounded, and not yet making the connection, I asked her why. She said, matter-of-factly, "Why that's the names of our body parts." 3.04.2007 This morning Meridian inquired about the weather, anxious to know if it was warm enough for her to wear her "soft clothes" outside. We opened some windows to preview the day, and found it nice and warm. So, I packed a picnic lunch while David loaded coordinates into our GPS device and Meridian loaded her backpack with "treasure", and we set off for a picnic in Redwing Park with a geocaching treasure hunt to follow. We arrived at the park, unloaded our picnic and set up, only to find ourselves shivering and trying to eat with hands shoved in our pockets (not terribly manageable). This isn't the first time we've been so fooled. I think it's the fact that we live in a cul-de-sac, and we're shielded from the wind. Meridian was too excited about our geocaching adventure for us to throw in the towel. I layered her just-in-case change of clothes over her soft cotton pants and shirt, pulled two hats and mittens from her stash in the car, and bundled her up. And we pressed on. This was our second ever geocache. Essentially, this amounts to treasure hunting, but is really just an excuse to get out and enjoy nature and explore your surroundings. People hide a "cache", which is a box full of goodies, most of them worthless or worth very little. Then they hide the box, and list the satellite coordinates online. People like us download the coordinates and go searching for the treasure. The first time we went, we didn't find it. It was a cloudy day, almost dusk, and we were inexperienced. Luckily, we'd packed along a back-up treasure chest to hide on the sly if we needed to. We did, and Meridian unknowingly selected a bottle of her own bubbles and contributed a beany baby. This time, we decided not to pack the back up and to let her start getting used to the idea that sometimes you might not find the treasure. Only, to our own surprise, we DID find it. Meridian took great joy in emptying the box completely, examining all of the contents, and then choosing the item that most appealed to her: a My Little Pony "to go with my other ponies what I have at home." Then she selected a bagful of rubber snakes from her own goodies to contribute to the box, drew a picture in the logbook, and helped re-hide the cache for others to find. It was great fun! Winding our way out of the hidden place in the woods, we carried a trash bag and collected garbage. There's a slogan in the geocaching community: Cache In, Trash Out. We enjoyed participating in that as well. Meridian is particularly perplexed as to why anyone would ever elect to throw trash on the ground, and every time we'd find something she'd echo the same sentiment: "Warum?", "Why?" Pictured of our adventure are in the 2.5 year gallery. 3.01.2007 Meridian's four syllable name has been something of a bear for her as far as pronunciation goes, and I've been documenting the progression of her pronunciation. A week ago, she made the transition into the correct pronunciation, and in honor of that, I wanted to list all the variations we've heard over the past two and a half years.
She also spelled her name correctly for the first time yesterday! We have a spelling song that spells her name three times and then sings her name three times. I've been singing it to her since she was growing in my belly. In the past when I've asked if she can sing it, or if she can spell her name, she always stopped after M. This week, she was calling herself M-E-R-Stiller, and then yesterday, she just randomly spelled her name and got it all right. What a proud momma I am! 2.20.2007 This common question popped up in the comments last night, and I thought it was worthy of a post here since it's a question many people are curious about: I just can't help but wonder how long you are planning on nursing her? She is almost 3 years old for goodness sake. We believe in Child Led Weaning, which means that the child decides when she is ready to wean. As adults we're so aware of societal pressures and cultural norms that we are likely to let those influence our decisions, whereas children are blissfully unaware of these pressures and do what feels right and natural. For that reason, I defer to her and we will continued to to nurse until she is ready to wean. "In societies where children are allowed to nurse 'as long as they want,' they usually self-wean, with no arguments or emotional trauma, between three and four years of age ... The minimum predicted age for a natural age of weaning in humans is two and a half years, with a maximum of seven years." -- Katherine Dettwyler, PhD, Associate Professor of Anthropology and Nutrition at Texas A&M University, and author of Breastfeeding: Biocultural Perspectives. Beyond offering her comfort and security, which I view as the primary benefit of breastfeeding at this point, nursing a toddler has these additional benefits:
If this were a term paper on the benefits of extended nursing, there are many more benefits that I would include, but the ones I chose to list are the most compelling to me. And I include the following information because it's surprising how many people don't realize that the advice of the medical community supports extended nursing: The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that "Breastfeeding should be continued for at least the first year of life and beyond for as long as mutually desired by mother and child... Increased duration of breastfeeding confers significant health and developmental benefits for the child and the mother... There is no upper limit to the duration of breastfeeding and no evidence of psychologic or developmental harm from breastfeeding into the third year of life or longer." (AAP 2005) The American Academy of Family Physicians recommends that breastfeeding continue throughout the first year of life and that "Breastfeeding beyond the first year offers considerable benefits to both mother and child, and should continue as long as mutually desired." They also note that "If the child is younger than two years of age, the child is at increased risk of illness if weaned." (AAFP 2001) The World Health Organization emphasizes the importance of nursing up to two years of age or beyond (WHO 1992, WHO 2002). Scientific research by Katherine A. Dettwyler, PhD shows that 2.5 to 7.0 years of nursing is what our children have been designed to expect (Dettwyler 1995). Meridian and I are growing together through our breastfeeding experience. I'm giving her comfort and security, teaching her that mommy is a place she can always come for solace. As a shift in perspective, consider the child with the security blanket or the child who finds comfort in his pacifier. When exactly is it appropriate to take those comfort-giving items away? Some parents would give you a specific age, but I fall into the camp that believes they will let them go when they no longer need them. And their confidence will be stronger because they were able to let them go in their own time. It's a wonderful feeling to be your child's security blanket. In her turn she is teaching me patience. I'd be dishonest if I didn't admit that there are days (and many of them!) when I'm oh-so-ready for her to wean - for goodness sake, she's nearly three years old! That last sentiment (posted in the comments) was literally torn from the dialogue that runs in my head some days. On those days, Meridian teaches me yet again that the there are important things worth waiting for in life. If she weans by her third birthday, I'll be pleased, and if she doesn't I'll be happy knowing I'm giving her the very best of myself. I'd like to thank the poster who asked the question. It's important that we as parents continue to dialogue about the decisions we make that affect our children, because from these conversations arises awareness, and from awareness comes better parenting. There was a time when I didn't believe I'd breastfeed at all. Certainly, I never thought I'd breastfeed a three year old. And even now, I can't help (informed as I am) cringing at the idea of my six-year-old still nursing. But we grow from the exchange of ideas, and so I thank you for letting me share my experience with you. 2.18.2007 Several nights ago, Meridian was nursing in the middle of the night in my bed. Out of no where, she pulled off and called me in a voice that made me wonder if she was having a nightmare. So I asked if she was okay and she said yes. I asked if she wanted to ask me something, and she said yes and then went back to nursing. Curiosity getting the best of me, I asked her what she'd wanted to ask me. She said "Mommy, I love nursies." I squeezed her and asked her what she liked about nursing, and she said "the little pointy pink part." I saved that to tell David the next morning. Fast forward to this morning, I wanted to see if she'd repeat herself while she was awake. So, when she asked to nurse, I asked her what she liked best about nursing. I had to swallow laughter when she said "the little penises." I had her repeat this several times to be sure I'd heard her correctly. Then I called David in to hear it first hand. He cracked up (silently, of course, head turned away, shoulders shaking) and then we both lost it when she elaborated. "The nursies have little tiny penises like what Papi has on his vagina." Every once in a while we're afforded the opportunity to be a fly on the wall of their brains. How very interesting things are in there. So, today we added nipple and areola (pronounced by M: areeyota) to her vocabulary. 2.07.2007 We've had a nasty cold since we've been back. I've been in bed for the last two days solid. Yesterday, David took Meridian to the pediatrician. She got antibiotics, and her ears looked fine, so that was good. Until last night when she woke up screaming in pain, saying her right ear hurt on the inside. I was worried because she has a pretty high tolerance for pain. Remember, she had a broken arm for almost a week and barely cried. So, I was worried because she was so vocal about the pain last night. I put a call in to the on-call doctor (and never got a call back!) and while waiting to hear from them started researching ear infections. Everyone basically agrees there's nothing much to be done for them. Antibiotics, though sometimes prescribed, do not immediately ease the pain. And since she was already on those, a trip to the ER wasn't likely to do us much good. I put a few drops of olive oil into her ear, and then propped up pillows on my bed, and held her upright against my chest. She layed there quietly a few minutes, and then said "I hear your heart. I want to crawl into your heart, and I can sleepin in there, and your love can rub me." What a poet! 2.06.2007 Meridian spent her first day away from Mommy this past weekend. I went up to Ryan's and we left the kids with Danny so we could have a sister day (snowtubing at Massanutten), so Meridian was with Danny from around noon until we came home around 11pm. The next night, I had the kids while Danny and Ryan went out. I got Kaitlynn and Shelby to bed really easily, and then took Meridian into the living room to nurse her. As we were walking out into the livingroom, the following conversation ensued: Meridian: You need to watch a moooovie. 1.28.2007 Footnote to baldness! We got a package in the mail, and Meridian is always thrilled to help open them. So, she helped pull of the long piece of tape that ran down the middle, and it got tossed to the floor. After the excitement of the package was behind her, she rediscovered this strip of tape. She played with it for a bit and then found a clever way to recycle it. When she was done, she proudly announced, "Look! Jennifer has Großvati hair!"   1.27.2007 I'm reading The Family Nutrition Book by Dr. Sears. It is fantastic. I got it from the library, but will definitely be buying it. In fact, I might just make it my standard 1st birthday present. It is so helpful. Check it out or buy it immediately. The great thing about it is it's not just filled with pages of reading. It has so many helpful lists or charts that I can just print and hang on the fridge. Things like 15 choices for a completely balanced nutritious breakfast, a smoothie recipe that gives 30% of the day's RDAs for everything from protein to vitamin A to folic acid, serving sizes for toddlers, etc. Implemented a tip today from the chapter on toddlers. If your toddler will not eat full meals when the family eats, here's one to try. After breakfast, fill an ice cube tray with various healthy snacks. Try to incorporate many different food groups, and vitamins and minerals. Having a colorful tray doesn't only make it fun, it makes it healthier. Set the tray out for them and let them nibble on it throughout the day.  Clockwise from the upper left: Kix, raw broccoli florets, yogurt-covered raisins, cucumber slices, red grapes, yellow apple, onion dressing, hummus, peanut butter, celery, yellow bell pepper, pepperoni (ok, this one was not mommy's choice, but it's all about compromise!), broccoli florets, baby carrots, apple slices, peanuts and cashews. Periodically throughout the day I would put it back in the fridge until she asked for something again. By the end of the day, all that was left was: a tiny bit of the broccoli, half of the carrots, and all of the bell pepper and celery (she's not a fan of these at all, but I keep hoping). She kept asking for refills on the raisins, and I told her that I would refill whichever buckets she wanted after the whole nibble tray was empty. We'll definitely be using this again! 1.26.2007 Overheard while Meridian played with her favorite doll: Meridian: Jennifer, you need to eat something what's healthy for your body. Here. Eat this banana. It has potassios for making you reach the ceiling. Three explaining points here:
1.25.2007 I'd like to thank Ryan's friend Katie for not giving up on me, and reminding me to snap some photos of Meridian in her froggy costume. Though Halloween was not what we'd hoped for, I would have been sad to have no photos of her costume. So, these were taken in early December on a fairly chilly day. She wasn't incredibly thrilled to get back into the costume, and only let me snap three photos of her. They have been added to the 2 year gallery (where they should have fallen if taken in October). Speaking of Halloween, I recently had a lightbulb moment. Meridian loves the book The Paper Bag Princess. In this story, a prince and a princess are friends. When a dragon comes and burns up Princess Elizabeth's castle and clothes, he also kidnaps Prince Ronald and holds him in his tower. So resourceful Princess Elizabeth fashions herself a dress from paper bags and goes off in search of the dragon's castle to rescue her friend. She finds it, out-smarts the dragon, and attempts to rescue the prince - only to find that the prince refuses to be rescued by someone dressed in such an unrefined outfit. Princess Elizabeth more or less tells him to stuff it, and then in mommy's enhanced version of the story, she goes on to establish her own paper bag dress empire where she's reknowned around the world and featured on the runways of Paris and New York. we have read this book a million times. She has it memorized. She loves the story. So, for arts and crafts, I thought it would be fun to create our own paper bag dress, and then act out the story in costume. She thought this was the best idea ever, and we set about gluing paper, ribbons, pompoms, foam shapes, and every other conceivable thing onto a large pink gift bag. Then came the time for her to put it on to measure where the head and arm holes should go. The wanted no part of this, but eventually relented and put it on. We went to look at herself in the mirror, and she wanted it OFF. We took it off, and went back to the garage to continue working on it. She was having a lot of fun. After a while, I mentioned trying it on again so we could measure where the belt should go. She got very angry and said, "I'm breaking it. I'm not wearing it. I will pull this side, and you pull that side, and it will get broken and I will break it UP." I was shocked. She is not a destructive child. I wasn't quite sure how to react. I am always torn when she wants to roll play something that I don't necessarily approve of. On the one hand, role-playing gives her the opportunity to work through those ideas in a safe setting. On the other hand, does allowing something in role-play that is not generally encouraged confuse her as to what my real expectations are? I haven't reached a decision on this issue, but to date when I've had to choose, I've opted to let her continue her role play. To that end, I said cautiously, "If you really want to break it, we can. I don't want to break your pretty dress that you worked so hard to make. But if breaking it makes you feel better, we can. I will help you. Tell me what you want me to do." At this, she burst out crying and said "It's not Halloween any more. I don't want to do dress up. I don't want those scary monsters." Of course, I nearly started crying with her. She didn't want to break her pretty dress. She just didn't want to dress up in it. Dress up is clearly in the scary halloween category. Deep sigh. I held her, and explained that we do not have to do dress up. We don't have to break her pretty dress either. We can make it and not wear it. That is fine. I tried to explain that Halloween does not have to be a scary thing, and that it is a fun day for dressing up in fun clothes, and that those mean boys were not REALLY monsters. I said "Those boys were just MEAN. Prince Ronald is mean too. What does Elizabeth tell him?" This is her favorite part of the story because she gets to yell very loudly "THAT'S NOT NICE!" So, she whispered that very phrase in answer to my question. I reassured her, "That's right. And if those mean boys try to scare you ever ever again, we will tell them THAT'S NOT NICE!!" She yelled it a few times, and we were on the road to recovery. She resumed her dress-making while I scrap-booked next to her, and after a little while she asked, "Can Kaitlynn wear it?" So, she's sending her first ever Paper Bag Dress to her cousin, Kaitlynn, in her Valentine's Day package. A good solution. We might need to outfit a few more friends and cousins in the nine months between now and Halloween in an effort to heal. Maybe somewhere along the line she'll be brave enough to don one herself. And if not, we'll find something else to celebrate next October. 1.23.2007 My niece, Kaitlynn, recently asked an old lady why she doesn't have teeth in her mouth. Laughing while Ryan relayed the story, I was reminded of Meridian's puzzling over the concept of baldness. David's dad is bald on top with the ring of hair around the sides. Meridian's never really seemed to notice until they came to visit back in November, and then she announced "Großvati has no hair on top." We chuckled and agreed with her observation, and that was seemingly the end of it. Fast forward several weeks to the evening Meridian and I were shopping for Christmas ornaments at the Christmas Attic (potty-training training for mommy). As we're browsing the shelves, Meridian pauses over one figurine which shows an elf measuring Santa's waistline. "Who's that man?" she asked. I told her it was Santa Claus and one of his elves. She was thoughtful for several minutes, and then asked "Is Großvati an elf?" Looking back at the figurine, I laughed outloud to find that the elf was bald on top, with hair around the sides. A memory hit me: child pyschology class back in college, learning how children fit new information into their existing schemas. It's as though they have a drawer full of files, and when new ideas are presented, they try to fit them into their existing files. If this fails, they have to make a new file. Piaget's assimilation and accomodation. Isn't it funny how some things stick with you? So, Meridian's question was essentially does bald fit into the elf category? Not making it easy on her, I had to tell her honestly that, "No, Großvati is not an elf." The topic dropped again for a few weeks, until she randomly brought it up while we we out shopping. In her typical fashion of announcing the topic of conversation, she said, "Let's talk about it: hair." I agreed and began reciting things about hair. She interrupted with the apparent purpose of the discussion: "Does Großvati have hair?" Yes, I told her he does have hair around the sides and back of his head. "But does he have hair on top?" she persisted. No he doesn't, I confirmed. "WHY doesn't he?" she wanted to know. So, I explained how his hair fell out when he was younger. "Where did it fall out?" I had to pause on that one. But then factual seemed the best way to proceed, so I said "In Germany." She raised her eyebrows and said, "He needs to go to Germany and pick it back up." In her most recent encouter with baldness, she embarrassed me by announcing loudly in her astonishment at the Home Depot, "That man has no hair on top OR on the sides!" We hurried past before I tried to explain that some people have brown hair, some people red, some people white, and some people none. She was still stuck on the man she'd seen - "Is that man a Großvati?" And apparently still trying out existing folders of knowledge: are all bald men grandfathers. I told her I wasn't sure if he was a Großvati, that some men had no hair because it fell out as they got older, and some had no hair because they cut it all off, and some men and ladies had no hair because they were taking a special medicine to help them get better. I think instead of clarifying, I only muddied the waters since she then wanted to know if Großvati needed special medicine. I guess she'll continue to puzzle through this one as time passes, and in the mean time I'll be either amused or embarrassed. 1.11.2007 Meridian and I were playing ball earlier, when she decided to try to stand Jennifer up and then roll the ball from across the room to knock her over. So, this segued into an impromptu game of bowling with her doll house dolls as pins. We got to talking about the game of bowling and how it's played, and we decided we should head out for a game of bowling at an actual lane. Sadly, it didn't quite work out as planned. She was very excited about it before we arrived. After arriving, she was thrilled to learn that she'd get to wear special shoes for the game. The lady behind the counter was busy trying to find her size, and after several pairs that wouldn't quote work, we finally found a match. Then she got her a special 6lb ball, and we were on our way. ...until the lady behind the counter saw that I had too much to carry, and came around to help. In Meridian's eyes, she'd crossed a boundary. We would have been fine, if at that point the well-meaning lady summed up the situation and saw that her presence was causing anxiety. Well, not true. She did realize that. But then, as well-meaning strangers tend to do, she kept trying to fix the problem. "Here let me hold your ball for you; Oh don't worry; okay I'll carry the shoes; oh poor baby; are you going to go bowling; will you throw the ball and knock the pins down?" And every word out of her mouth just walks her further and further across Meridian's line. She doesn't want this stranger to talk to her, doesn't want her to help her, doesn't want her to talk about the special game that she and mommy "made up" and are now planning to play. Getting inside her head, I can see how she felt she owned those things and those ideas, and that a scary stranger tarnished them. The excitement of the special shoes was gone, and now she wanted her own. The big ball, which had seemed so grown-up for its heaviness only moments earlier, was now just a reminder of her feeling of invasion. And that a stranger knew how the mommy and Meridian game was played, even down to the same words mommy had used to describe it, just pushed her over the edge. Meridian deteriorated from there. The lady insisted that she help us down to the lane, and as I could see that turning her down would prolong the agitation longer than simply following her, we walked along behind her. Once there she wanted to show how the computer worked, and I saw another opportunity to pull Meridian out of her mood vanish as the computer was now firmly in lady-territory. Then she had to apologize to Meridian one last time. Then finally, she was gone. So, I tried to soothe and distract, tried to re-create interest in the game. I thought it was working, as she did heave the ball from it's spot on the chair and waddle with it over to the lane, where she dropped it, THUD, onto the floor and we rolled it down the lane together (bumpers protecting us from an anti-climax). We watched it as it rolled down the lane ever-so-slowly and I talked about how the ball would hit the pins and they would fall down like her dolls. Three pins fell, the ball disappeared behind them, and started her pre-cry quavering. "I wouldn't like my ball to go back there. Where IS my ball?" Just as I was trying to explain how the ball would pop out of the special machine for her to use again, back came the lady from the front desk, carrying a stuffed animal peace-offering, and Meridian burst into tears. She did say to the lady, "I don't want you to talk to me. I want to be alone," between her sobs. And that did finally get the message across. After that, we sat on the floor in front of our lane - her in my lap, her cheek pressed against mine, amd watched the other bowlers bowl. I was surprised at how full the lanes were on a Thursday around lunch time. I'd thought we'd have the lanes to ourselves on a school day at noon, maybe apart from leagues, but it was packed - even had a birthday party going. So I thought we might be able to watch others for a while to generate new interest in our own game. Nope. She wasn't going to play this game any more, she'd decided. When I asked her what she wanted to do , she said "Give that ball and that dog back to the lady and wear my shoes that are not the lady's special shoes and go away from here." So we did. We talked about it a little bit on the way back to the car, but she was unable to elaborate past "That lady talking to me" when I asked what had made her scared of the lady. In the car as I buckled her in, I told her that she'd done the just-right thing, and that whenever she was afraid of somebody for any reason or if someone made her uncomfortable, she should tell me that she wants to go away from them. She told me she didn't want to talk about it anymore, so we put the incident behind us and headed to the book store, a place so familiar to her it could be a second home. We sat and read books for about an hour and a half, and that soothed her. 1.08.2007 Meridian is not much of a snuggle baby; she never has been. So the day we got back from Ryan's house, I'd left her to play by herself with her dollhouse, and not hearing her for several minutes, I went to check on her. I peeked silently around a corner and found her on the couch with babydoll Jennifer and a stuffed animal, wrapped in a blanket and laying on a couch pillow. It was such a sweet picture, I watched for a few minutes. She was so quiet and content that I almost left her like that to return to my task, but I couldn't figure out if she was sad; I definitely didn't want to leave her there alone if she was sad, so I went in to her. She said "Animals need to be snuggled." I melted. I asked her, "Do you need to be snuggled too?" She said yes, so I wrapped all of us under the blanket and we sat there quietly. After a minute or so, she said, "Our Christmas tree has beautiful lights." I agreed, "It does, doesn't it?" Another minute of quiet. Then, "Those are our stockings, and that is our chimney and our hearth and our curtains and our lamp, and this is our house. A house is where you live and a house is my home." I'm so glad I was snuggling while she said all that, because it just made my heart swell, and all I wanted to do was hold her closer and closer. I could just really feel how much she loves me in that moment, and it was magical. A few days later, we were playing the favorite game. Basically, I drill her on what her favorites are in every category under the sun. We'd finished playing, and she was playing with some toys and chattering to them. So, she asked her pony what her favorite was, and Meridian said, "Aunt Ryan is my favorite best." Of course, I had to call Ryan right away to impart the news. What a great category to win too. We've never played for "favorite best" before. Lucky Aunt Ryan. 1.07.2007 Meridian has always had a sense of humor. It's one of the things we find so charming about her. Lately, her humor has found inspiration in the potty. Several days ago, she called to me from the bathroom: "Mommy, I need you to wipe my po-po." When I arrived, she revised ever so slightly, "Mommy, please wipe my poo-poo" and then with serious sternness, "And don't EAT it." Another variation, the more common one, is for her to look at you with that certain glint in her eye and say "I want to make pee pee on the [insert inappropriate household object here]." When the humor in that wore off, she'd stand near you, hovering her bottom over you and say "I need to make poo-poo on your elbow" and then crack up laughing. For Christmas, David got some Luwak Coffee. This is specialty coffee at its best. The short story is that an animal called the Luwak eats the coffee beans, but can't digest them, and poops them out again. The poop is collected, and the coffee beans cleaned and processed. Apparently, the digestive system of the luwak does something wonderful to the coffee. Yes, this is a TOTAL DAVID gift. Well, apparently he explained the coffee to Meridian. She came up to me a few days ago holding the acrylic paperweight with the luwak poop sample inside (the souvenir that came with the coffee) and asked "What's this?" I repeated her question back to her, wanting to hear her take on it. She grinned knowingly and said, "It's coffee poop!" and then cracked up. Hey, maybe there was something to that "Don't eat it" message after all. 1.06.2007 We explained New Year's Resolutions to Meridian like this: In January we celebrate new beginnings. That means you get to try to do something better than you have beein doing it. I told her my resolution would be to wake up when she wakes up (the 2006 method was to sit her on my bed with a pile of books to buiy me just a little more sleep until she grew bored.) We said that David's resolution would be to stop working at dinner time, and then not work any more until the next day, so that he could play with her more. And then we declared what her New Year's resolution would be: be nice to Papi. In recent weeks, she's taken to hiding her face in mommy's legs when David comes around, ignoring him when he talks to her, and screaming when he insists that she respond to him nicely. This is so out of character for her that we haven't known how to deal with it. We've tried putting her in her bed and letting her cry until she's ready to deal with David. We've tried coaxing and coddling. We've tried ignoring the behavior all together. This week we're noticing that the screaming bit seems to be something of a game or ploy for attention, so we're responding with "Papi doesn't want to play that game; let's play chase instead" with some success. So, we decided alongside these varying efforts, that we should give her a resolution. Her pronunciation of the word has progressed some since we introduced the concept on the 1st. From yenovulsion to renosution to renolution. But we hear the word most often in chants of "I don't want a renolution" when we point out that she's no being nice to Papi. She also greets me with it in the morning, "Mommy, you need to wake up, it's your renolution." Although, I think her most recent mispronunciation might be the most apt. This morning, instead of the sweet coaxing wake up call I just described, I was greeted by a small naked body jumping up and down on my bed shouting "Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!" The girl is on to something. 1.05.2007 Chicken pox. Back in early December, I emailed Suzanne to see if we couldn't arrange a playdate, having not seen the boys in a bit. She wrote back saying no because her boys had the chicken pox. I emailed back, asking in that case if I could come to her house that day and expose Meridian. She hasn't had the pox yet, and hasn't been vaccinated. I've purposely avoided vaccinating her so that she could get them naturally and get the lifelong immunity that the vax cannot be gauranteed to provide. The vaccine, being relatively new (it was still in the testing phase in the states when I was a child), has been shown in Japan and other Asian countries to wear off or weaken in some people in early adulthood. Getting a case of the chicken pox as an adult is far more dangerous than getting it as a child, especially for a woman since getting it while pregnant could mean birth defects for the child. So, naturally begotten chicken pox was our goal, and Michael and Andrew were our ticket to immunity. So, we went over for our own little chicken pox party, encouraged the kids to kiss a lot, and hoped for the best. Hoping for the best was my way of sitting on the fence. You see, while I wanted her to get them, I wasn't sure I wanted her to get them at Christmas time. So, I'd be happy either way. Well, we carefully avoided friends with non-vaxed kids for two weeks, and nothing. No pox. DRAT. Until Christmas afternoon, when she developed three little spots on her right cheek close to her forehead. The next day, she had a small blister on her left forearm (one of only two to date to actually blister). And then over the next few days, more popped up here and there. Hers is a very mild case, less than 30 pox total, and even those are very small. We're talking smaller-than-the-head-of-a-pin small. Some can be felt when I run my finger across them, while others are flat. If I didn't know she'd been exposed, I'd never guess this was CP. Her mood is unaffected, though she's growing tired of me trying to take pox inventory. In the end, I think this case is too small to give her the immunity I'd hoped she'd get, so we'll try to expose her again in the future. If she hasn't had it yet in her teens, we'll have a titer drawn on her blood to measure her immunity, and then vaccinate if necessary. In the mean time, Suzanne and Mikey say to call them the next time we want them to practice biological warfare on our little one. 1.04.2007 A belated Happy New Year to every one. We had a quiet one at home. Meridian woke up to the fireworks over our lake right at midnight and we all three snuggled in the bed for a few minutes before cuddlig up and falling asleep together. Boy do I love our king bed. Our Christmas holiday was very nice. I'm happy to report that Christmas Eve was a nice lazy day! Santa's elves were recuperating from their all-nighter, and happily all other holiday hubbub was finished by then. I like to go to a service on Christmas Eve, primarily because I grew up doing it, and I love the music. Since we didn't go carolling this year, I was especially insistent on the service. We decided to go to a church locally rather than drive out to ours in Norfolk because we wanted something low-key and because I'm not a big fan of the music in our church. So, we went to a Methodist church just up the road, which had a billboard advertising lots of singing. The service was very much like a Lutheran service which was a little surprising. All was going well until we got to communion near the end of the service. We don't do communion in our church, so Meridian is unfamiliar with it. One by one, the pews were released to go up to the alter. It didn't take long until Meridian was asking questions. Meridian: What are those people doing? We dropped in to visit with Noah and Tiffany and the boys for a little bit after the service. Somehow the holidays slipped by without us really coordinating a time to see them, which is a shame because we really enjoy them so much. As it is we crashed in on their family time with the boy's grandma and felt pretty bad about it. In the new year, we need to make a better effort to see the people who are meaningful in our lives. Christmas morning, Meridian slept until 9am. I counted that as a Christmas gift to me. We headed down, and began our morning together. Straight away she saw the doll house, which wasn't wrapped, but had Santa's big bow on it. She didn't quite know what to make of it. She came down expecting a baby doll and was caught off guard. She sat down in front of it, and just stared sleepily at it for a few minutes and then looked up and said "What IS it?" Very sweet! From there, we slowly made our way through the gifts, which there were WAY to many of. Meridian would pick one up, and bring it to us to see whose it was, and then either open it or wait patiently while it was opened. But as SOON as it was opened, she either wanted to play with it immediately, or set it aside and open another. So, we did. Some toys were opened on the spot and the presents were momentarily forgotten, others were saved for later. Around noon, we decided to wind down the presents and pack up for Ryan's. With packing and laundry and playing, it was 3 before we were really on the road, but we got there just before dinner was served, so all's well that ends well. Ryan made a terrific Christmas spread. It was delicious. I joked her that we should make that a tradition, and she teased me about how I got out of cooking Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. We were joined by Marianne and her son, Freddie, friends that Ryan and Danny met in Tunisia. It was great to see them again, and the kids had a great time playing together. It was just great to be with family for Christmas. We came home Thursday to the toy tornado in the family room, and the piled up laundry in the piano room, but we just relaxed in our messy house for a few days before getting organized and picking up. Now we're back to normal, and the Christmas decor is all but packed up, with a naked tree standing in the family room, and outdoor lights still needing to come down. I can happily report though that the painted snow and snowflakes have been removed from our windows. A real feat if you consider that the heart that David painted on there for Valentine's Day when I was pregnant was still on there for Meridian's first birthday. 1.03.2007 Meridian and I were doing chores the other day. I showed her how to do her task, then I went back to mine. As we're going along, she's chattering to herself about what she's doing. Here's her rambling; can you figure out what's going on? Look! He's his partner. He needs to go on top of him. They're in a little pile. Now he goes inside of him. He likes to do that. All perfectly innocent, I assure you. 12.24.2006 We've gotten word from Santa Claus himself that his elves were up literally ALL NIGHT last night putting the finishing touches on Meridian's doll house. We can't wait to show you pictures after Old Saint Nick drops it off tonight. Merry Christmas to all of you. We won't be checking in until after the holidays, as we'll be driving up to visit my sister Ryan on Christmas afternoon. Our Christmas greeting for you in case your mail hasn't arrived yet, or we don't have an address for you:  12.23.2006 We went to our good friends Ryan and Marisa for a Christmas party last night. We always have such a good time with them. Landon (8mo) went to sleep shortly after we arrived, but Cai and Meridian (missing Millie, but now accompanied by Marisa'a little neighbor Paul) were still awake and wide eyes when we finally departed at a few minutes past eleven pm. WOW. We had so much fun. We got to meet Ryan and Marisa's neighbors who are French and stationed here with NATO and had such great conversation. The kids played well, and loved opening gifts. Marisa, Ryan, Cai and Landon gave Meridian a beautiful puppet theater. She didn't quite know what to make of it on party night, but I know that it is a gift she will cherish. She makes everything into puppets: sponges, coin rollers, bars of soap. Once she gets the object, we will be her mandatory captive audience, and really, what better gift is there than that? (Meridian and Cai have known each other since their parents were in birthing classes together. Millie became a fast friend when they were about 3mo old, and the three are together at least once a week, most weeks. Millie is in SC for a short stay while her daddy fills a spot there for 6 months. He's a Navy doctor. We missed Millie at our party, as we miss her each week at playdate.) 12.21.2006 We had so much fun with today's advent activity: build a Christmas basket for the squirrels. First we dropped in at Garden Ridge to collect a few things: some peat moss, a basket, some pine cones. We got home just in time for David to take the car for his guys' dinner out, only to discover that we had no apples or peanut butter, both crucial to the project. So, we took an evening walk to the Food Lion around the corner. Loaded up on the necessities, we got home and got to work. Meridian REALLY enjoyed this project, from spearing peanut butter into the branches of the pine cones to gluing the peanuts onto sticks to stabbing in decorative evergreens. And the finished project is so pretty, I may just keep it on my table for a few days and let Meridian put it out on Christmas Eve. I'll spin it as the squirrels' Christmas gift.   12.17.2006 Finally! The advent calendar activity yesterday was the much awaited gingerbread house. I thought Meridian would glop all the candies on, but she was VERY meticulous. She wanted me to do the frosting, then she wanted it to look just like th house on the box. By day four of decorating she loosened up some, and the back of the house shows that. But also, there was not back of the house in the photo, so that probably adds to it. So, here is our very unoriginal, if orderly, gingerbread house:    We made it from a kit, and I was a little nervous when I opened the package and read the directions because the pieces had to be "glued" together with frosting and several hours had to pass before continuing to the next step. And the assembly had several gluing steps. So, it turned out to be an all day project with the decorating not happening until the evening, and on into the next day. I must say, she enjoyed it every bit as much as I thought she would, which felt good after activities like the ice-skating which she anticipcated with great joy but found disappointing in their actuality. Gingerbread house was a winner! 12.15.2006 Another random photo off the camera: a quick photo of our advent calendar. Simple and classic.  12.14.2006 Oh boy - potty training is something else, huh? First, let me say that she's really doing very well. She's kept at it. We've been doing underpants every day since Monday. She had one accident Tuesday, one on Wednesday, and one today (that almost doesn't count because it only happened because she couldn't climb onto the potty). Me, on the other hand, ...I'm not qualified for this job! We went to The Christmas Attic this evening to buy an ornament for our tree as our advent activity. This potty-training thing being new to me, I completely forgot to put a diaper on her. In fact, all the while we were out, I forgot she wasn't wearing one. Until she piped up in the store, "Mommy, where IS the potty-sit?" Wow. I had such a rush of so many jumbled feelings: pride, panic, fear, self-reproach, and HURRY! I managed to ask where the bathroom is. Luckily, they recognized our special situation and let us use their employee bacthroom. I got her into the bathroom, and onto the potty in record time. Thankfully, it was a private bathroom, well-kept and very clean. In my panic, I didn't even manage to wipe off the seat before plopping her in place. As she sat there waiting for the urge, a calm settled over me and I realized something: The fear of being peed on by a child when there is no change of clothes to be had for either party outweighs the fear of potty germs. This was not new information. Other parents had shared it with me when we'd discussed my fear of potty-training. I just didn't think they understood the depth of my own public potty issues. So, Meridian successfully went pee-pee on The Christmas Attic potty. We washed our hands, and wrapped up the whole potty routine with a candy reward (thankfully, they sell candy). And I was feeling pretty relieved. Possibly even smug. This difficulty of this potty business was over-rated. This was easy. Here we were on day four, successfully peeing in public! Fast forward: one hour. We're in the car on the way home. I'm happily chatting on the phone to my sister, recounting our successful sans-diaper trip. Meridian interrupts from the back seat, "I feel pee-pee coming!!" Omigod, what do I DO?? Well, in case you ever discover yourself in this predicament, I recorded the steps here for you, so you'll have a plan of action:
David suggested tonight that we put a potty chair into the car for such occassions. Genius! 12.12.2006 Downloaded some random photos off the camera tonight, and this one showcases two of our advent actities, so I thought I'd share. The first was to sponge paint snow flakes onto the windows with tempera paint. The second was to make a garland to hang our Christmas cards on. Fun stuff!  12.11.2006 Well, ...it looks like potty training began today. It was her idea. Sort of. She asked for underpants when she woke up. David put a pair on over her diaper. When I changed her diaper later in the morning, I asked what was going on, and she told me. So, I explained that she had to choose EITHER the undies or the diaper. She chose the underpants, and I explained that if she felt pee-pee or poo-poo coming, she's need to call me and we'd hurry to the potty. I'm not entirely ready for this, so if it doesn't last, I won't be terribly sad. I know. I'm weird. I may be the only parent ever to NOT want their child to potty train. But diapers are just so much easier. The very idea of taking her to potty in a public bathroom gives me hives. I'm not a germ-freak in general, but I have serious issues when it comes to public bathrooms. Serious issues. David calls me Howard Hughes. I've been known to hold it for a 14 hour car trip. Yes, yes. I know it's bad for me. Did I mention I have serious issues about this? So, Meridian had three potty accidents today. Two of the liquid variety, and one solid. I know, too much information. But in addition to being a place where you can check in on her, it's also my sole means of record keeping, and so you must be subjected to such details. Each time, I asked her if she wanted clean undies, or a diaper. Each time, she opted for the underpants. We'll see how tomorrow goes. 12.10.2006 Meridian is LOVING the advent calendar. Each day has an ornament for her to hang on the tree, wrapped in a slip of paper which tells what the day's Christmas activity will be - anything from go ice skating to make a wreath to bake Christmas cookies. Everyday I ask her what she thinks it will say, and every day she says "Maaaayyyybe, ...build a gingerbread man house?" She has so been looking forward to this activity! It finally came up in the calendar today. She LOVED it, and she was so meticulous. I expected a big frosted mess with candy dumped on every available place. NO. She wanted me to do the frosting like the picture (crisscrossed on the roof), and then she placed little bead candies on each cross, carefully lined up gumdrops along the roof, etc. It totally looks like I did it for her. We didn't quite finish it, but we'll do more tomorrow and then post a pic. This afternoon, a man tripped over our cart and muttered sonofabitch to himself. I didn't even notice. We get to the car and Meridian is saying "sonofabitch" over and over. Except she pronounces the S sound as a D. I thought she was saying the curse, but couldn't imagine where she'd heard it to be saying it all of a sudden. So, I asked what she was saying and she kept telling me: sonofabitch. Finally, she got exasperated that I wasn't understanding her (which I was but was certain I must be hearing wrong), she said "I'm saying what the man said." Only then did I have the mental realization that I had heard him say sonofabitch. Thinking fast on my feet (and assisted by her mispronunciation "donofablitz"), I said "Oh, was he listing Santa's reindeer: Donner and Blitzen?" From Meridian, pause then "Yes!" 12.07.2006 I meant to mention that Meridian had her first haircut this past weekend. Pics forthcoming. It looks like we may spend the holidays with the chicken pox. I emailed my sister-in-law to arrange a get together, and it turns out her boys have the chicken pox. I promptly arranged to take Meridian right over and expose her, so we had an impromptu chicken pox party. Both my nephews were vaccinated so they have very mild cases, and it may prove ineffective for giving Meridian the virus, but at least I tried. Stinky to get right at Christmas, but we've got to take it while we can get it. We want her to get the chicken pox naturally so that she will have lifelong immunity. 12.02.2006 There's a running joke in my family that the dates I plan just never quite pan out. But boy are they good ones, the stuff of a Julie Andrews movie. Yesterday, to kick off December, we were going to wake up and head to MacArthur to ice-skate, then to the farmer's market for a Christmas tree, and then home again to trim the tree while Meridian and David made mustard and holiday songs drifted from room to room. Can you see the picture in your mind's eye? A daddy pulling a sweet little girl around an ice rink, all wrapped up in scarves. Mommy skating up behind them for sneak-attack kisses. The happy family singing along to the carols and sipping hot chocolate while the fire glowed in the fire place. So, we wake up to a warm day and the scarves, cocoa, and fireplace are immediately removed from the vision. It starts to rain on the way to MacArthur, so the skating family vanishes. It continues to rain all day, so the tree shopping is voted a poor choice. Instead, the scene goes a little more like this: mom oversleeps, everyone feels rushed, the dad spills a smoothie in the car and chaos ensues, the mom tries to help and gets her new pants splashed with smoothie, mom and dad have a bitter exchange and then try to put on a happy face in the name of the glorious day planned. Alternative plans are made, but Santa's on a break. Chin up, we'll go to the play area until he's back, ...only to have the sweet girl pushed off the over-sized toy watermelon. How does this happen to such a beautiful script? I must say, it gives me an empathy for movies like Deck the Halls which surely sounded like a great script to the director, but in the end dwindled into what the Philadephia Inquirer reviewed "Can be described as whatever is the opposite of a Christmas classic." We did recover the day though. Santa came back on duty before too long, and we waited in line. Meridian chanted a chorus of "I want to go AWAY from him" in line, so we determined we wouldn't push her to sit on his lap if she opted not to, but would at least introduce the pair and possibly sow the seeds for a lap sitting at a later date. To our surprise, she sat on his lap with little prodding, and we got our happy smiling Santa photo. She told Santa that she wanted a babydoll, and as we were walking away, she said "He DIDN'T give me a babydoll." I explained how he's making his list now, and he'll deliver the babydoll Christmas Eve night while she's sleeping and it will be under the tree on Christmas morning. Meridian fell asleep on our ride home, and we hashed out our bickering. Then in lieu of a Christmas tree, I strung Christmas lights while David and Meridian made mustard, carols drifting through the rooms. The cocoa and the fireplace were no longer players in our happy holiday play, but we got along okay without them. And while it would be too overly optimistic (admit it, sickeningly so) to say that the rain was a fair substitute for snow, we can at least say that we didn't let it stop us, and we hung our lights to spite it.  11.30.2006 We hope your Thanksgiving was wonderful. We had a great time. We drove up to Fredericksburg to pick up the Mangrums and then all carpooled up to New York together to see Aunt Jeanie and company. Of course, it was raining (it does so every time I drive up to Ryan) and traffic was dense on the day before Thanksgiving, but the kids traveled surprisingly well. We packed up turkey themed coloring books, crafts, baby dolls, and load of books. We printed Thanksgiving-themed songs (which I ended up singing alone and I'm sure to all the adults chagrin). It went pretty well considering the six hour trip took us eleven hours, and we got in at one a.m. Once there, we had a great time. The adults were in their glory not having to bicker with their spouses over who got to sleep in, as Aunt Jeanie took all three kids in the mornings. That was a real treat. Shelby enjoyed her Thanksgiving feast, brussel sprouts included, but Meridian and Kaitlynn played more than they ate. Except where it came to dessert, and it being Aunt Jeanie's house, there was plenty of that. After the holiday, days were filled meeting up with family we haven't seen in a while. Now we're on the kick-off for Christmas. 11.02.2006 Halloween Spoiled. :( My poor little peanut has been so excited for Halloween. We started discussing it on October 1st (mostly because we're learning about months, and if there is a holiday it tends to defines each month for her). So, she was SO excited for trick-or-treating. She's been role-playing it with all of her dolls. She picked her own costume (a frog) and she's been waiting for "Halloween Day," as she calls it, all month. House 1: a little boy in a Scream mask approaches, and she starts climbing up my leg. He's maybe 8 years old, and as soon as he realizes she's scared he pulls his mask off and tells her it's only make-believe. She gets better and laughs a little. House 2: all is good, says trick-or-treat, gets a candy, pets their dog (it's our neighbor), says thank you and good-bye. House 3: About 3/4 of the way up the driveway, I realize that the garage is dark, despite being open. The house is decorated and the porch light is on, but the people are sitting in the garage. I realize this is a teen house, so I call out loudly "Please don't scare us; she's just a baby." The teenager walks around behind me and I think "Good, he's respecting my wishes," meanwhile we walk on to mom in the garage. Then three teenagers jump out from behind us with bloody monster masks and put hockey sticks up at our throats. Meridian was TERRIFIED. She buried herself in my neck and kept crying "Take me home to my house, please I want to go to my house." Poor baby. Of course, I took her right home. After 15 minutes or so, David tried to take her out. We thought maybe a different parent plus a different language plus the time elapsed might be enough of a change to make her alright with the idea. He got as far as middle of the culdesac before she was repeating her same cry to go home in German. We even had to turn off the porch light because she was so scared of the other trick-or-treaters after that. It's more than 24 hours later and I'm still steaming. 10.28.2006 Entry by Papi. Meridian is at a terrific age. People speak of the “terrible twos,” and while she does occasionally throw a tantrum, I’ve decided the term is either an urban legend, sour grapes, or something I’m gratefully oblivious to. Heck, I throw a tantrum now and then myself. The truth is, we have a wonderful relationship, unique among any I’ve had. Although it encompasses a number of facets, it mainly feels like friendship, but at a deeper level of trust than most. Above all, it is preciously innocent. Meridian makes me feel like Christopher Robin, while she alternates among the various characters at Pooh Corner. I realized early on, with great reluctance, that I wouldn’t be able to capture all the cute or otherwise remarkable things Meridian does. Time simply moves too quickly. For better or worse, certain experiences are meant to be enjoyed at the time and cherished later as memories. Sometimes you have to put down the camera and actually join in the fun. So I do. Meridian may not remember these experiences, and they’re likely to fade even for me, but I trust that, over time, they form layer upon layer of sediment that engulfs ancient coins, nifty dinosaur bones, and other buried treasure — all that sparkle compacted into a solid foundation for, well, for whatever we choose to build together. Here are a number of things I’ll forget if I don’t note them now (or soon). Some of these are scribbled on loose Post-it notes and receipts, and some are hanging by their last thread to my mental list of “Hey, blog about these so Meridian can enjoy them when she’s older.”
I can’t help but think what sort of fun, slightly off-beat personality she’ll have when she’s older. I’d almost say “I can’t wait!” but, of course, I can … and must. I love living in the moment with Meridian. Truly, every day I spend with her is a day she helps me rediscover the joy of simply being here. 10.04.2006 My baby, the caregiver: Several weeks ago we were at playdate. The kids were fed, and when they were fed up, they were released to the playroom while the adults lingered over lunch. Millie, Cai, and Meridian played well in the playroom while 4mo old Landon napped in his crib. Occassionally, one of the kids would wander back into the kitchin for a bit more to eat. Take-out, on-the-go, can't-stop-eating-to-digest type bites. After a bit, Landon began fussing and Marisa went to retrieve him. She found Meridian standing next to his crib, ahold of the bars, peering in. Landon, on his belly, arching back, head off the mattress. Beneath his face rested a little piece of turkey. Tickled, Marisa picked him up and brought him back in the kitchen, sharing how Meridian tried to feed Landon. When Meridian traipsed in a little while later, I asked her if she's fed Landon. Pleased as punch, she grinned, and said "I give him turkey!" My baby, the logician: This afternoon, David was playing with Meridian. He tossed her into the air and caught her a few times. She laughed and said, "Papi, Ich bin nicht ein Ball." I am not a ball. Well, there's no arguing that kind of level-headed logic. My baby, lover of literature: Playing in the garden, while I weeded, Meridian paused when a car alarm went off and asked, "What's that loud noise?" I told her it was a car beeping, and she was pretty firm in her opinion: "I'm not liking it." It will stop soon, I tell her, and we return to our gardening. She continues playing along-side me, and I'm sorta lost in thought, but I'm broken from my own spaciness when her words catch up with me. "I'm not liking that noise-boat. I'm not liking that noise-goat. I'm not liking it. Not NOT. I'm not liking that noise-mouse. I'm not liking that noise-house. I AM NOT LIKING IT. NOT. NOT. NOT." We don't own Green Eggs and Ham, as my copy was damaged in hurricane flooding many seasons ago. We've read it once at the pediatrician's office, and it was love at first read. We came across it again at Grandmommy's house this summer, and she recognized it instantly as the "Not" book. And in those brief encounters, it has apparently taken hold. It is perhaps the persistance of Sam that our neighbors are employing in an attempt to have us gain appreciation for the music of their car alarm. But as Meridian would let them know "We're not liking it. Not. Not. NOT." My baby, the elephant: Out of the blue, Meridian asked, "Where's Uncle Mike?" I explain that he's at work. "No, he's at Andrew's house," she tells me. I explain that he lives at Andrew's house, but right now he's at work. "Where's Andrew's house?" she asks me. "In Norfolk," I tell her, using the city name as I aslways do when she asks where someone lives. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and she exclaims, "Like Millie!" It's amazing the things they file away. My baby, the creative genius: Meridian and I were playing legos at the lego store the other day. She wanted a lego man, but there weren't any in the play bin. "Make you a lego man, Mommy" she insists. So, I use helicopter parts to construct a make-shift lego man. "What is his name?" I ask, because she's lately interested in naming her animals. Almost all of them are Jennifer, but we have a stray Tori and Wendy mixed in there somewhere. Imagine my surprise when she carefully, slowly pronounces his name, grinning coyly already anticipating my approval. He is "Doctor Honeydew Dragon". I come home thrilled to share the story with David, and ready to begin filling in her Mensa application, when David informs me that Dr. Honeydew is a Muppets character from a few Muppets books she has. In fact, he tells me, she has a Dr. Honeydew doll in her toy box. And so she does. It just turns out that until today, I've always called him Professor No-Eyes. Incidentally, Mensa is the German word for cafeteria, which might be a little more apt a place for Little Miss M. and Dr. Honeydew at this point than the collegiate halls. 09.19.2006 The rest of the story, in photos:
09.12.2006 Over the last week or so, I've been steadily convincing Meridian that Blaise's name is, in fact, Blaise and not Tori. She was resistant at first, but finally seems to have given in. Her means of compromise: she's changed the names of half of her Jennifers to Tori. I'd never given much thought to how easy having all the baby dolls share a name made things, but I'm gaining a new appreciation for it. Bedtime used to be so easy. She'd get tucked in and request Dukedog, Gelbebär, and Jennifer. The first two never left her crib, so they were always within reach. The last one could be fulfilled by grabbing the nearest babydoll. Now when I hand her the nearest babydoll, she says "Not Yennifer, Mommy, Tooooooooori." And I'm off on the search for the certain doll with the pink shoes that's certain to be wedged under the seat of the car, or the Tori with the pacifier that's wearing one of my blouses and tucked in carefully between the pillows of the sofa. 09.10.2006 Entry written by Papi. Somehow, Meridian managed to break her arm — in two places. It’s been a few days now, and I hasten to add that Meridian is just fine. Really, she’s a trooper. Dawn and I occasionally blink and shake our heads at the wonder of it all: one, that this happened in the first place, and two, that it’s not nearly as dramatic as it sounds. Meridian has been comfortable around the stairs for months. She’s very careful and uses the banister. In spite of that, she took a tumble down the last three stairs (we think) about a week ago and slammed her left arm into the baby gate at the bottom (ironic, huh?). Though, of course, she cried, everything seemed fine after that. We played like normal that afternoon; in fact, I would take her hands, at her request, and swing her around like an airplane — all the usual stuff. Over the next few days, she would occasionally complain to Dawn of pain. A handful of times, she would cry if one of us brushed against her arm at a certain spot. On Thursday, Dawn took Meridian to the zoo, where she happened to trip. She broke her fall with the same arm, and that was it: the tears just wouldn’t quit. Dawn took her to the doctor for an x-ray. Sure enough, the radius and the ulna each have a small line through them — more what I believe is called a hairline fracture. She’ll be perfectly fine, but she does need a cast. At the moment, her arm is in a splint. A cast! See, that’s when I blink and shake my head. My cutie little curly-headed, baby-fat-armed, two-year-old kleine Bohne [little bean] is going to wear a cast! With the splint, already, we’ve had some sweet moments. When Dawn brought her home from the doctor’s, Meridian showed me her arm. She’s calling the splint her “special glove,” but wanted to take it off. I explained to her that she broke two of her bones, and that the glove was going to fix them. Didn’t she want the glove to fix her bones? She nodded and stopped pulling at the Ace bandage. Suddenly her eyes got fervent. Here, we need a quick note, by way of a tangent. See, I’m the guy who fixes Meridian’s toys. It’s a thing in our family. Not that she breaks them — not at all — but some of them are … well, cheap, regardless how much they cost. She has a plastic German telephone that teaches counting and sings. A few weeks after Meridian received it, the toy started squeaking — and the squeak became an awful screeching plague. Even so, Meridian loved that telephone and played with it often. One afternoon, I finally reached my screeching limit. I carefully unscrewed the bottom and started tinkering. Meridian watched, interested. I finally found the culprit — two gears rubbing each other the wrong way — so I used a bit of olive oil (didn’t even have WD40) and that solved everything. “Papi hat dein Telefon repariert!” [“Papi repaired your telephone!”]. I also tape up torn books and glue broken corners, that sort of thing. Meridian brings toys to me when something is amiss and struggles through the two rolling Rs in her plea that I fix whatever’s wrong. In the van, as her eyes got fervent — and hopeful, and relieved — she exclaimed, “Papi repariert meine Knochen!” [“Papi fixes my bones!”]. I melted right there, flat out. The next morning, she wandered into my office, as she usually does, all rosy-cheeked, warm, and winking off sleep. She smiled at me and raised her arms — the one too big to fit into her pajama sleeve the night before (we laughed about how her arm was too fat) — and I asked her if she wanted to feel my bones. I let her squeeze my own radius and ulna. I showed her my ribs, and her own ribcage. Then we searched for bones and skeletons on Google Images. She loved it. Her x-ray is pretty cool. Given her age, none of the bones seem to be connected. She has only a few small pebbles, seemingly free-floating, in the wrist area. Even her fingers seem like impossible machines. Dawn said Meridian was unsure at first of the x-ray machine, but Dawn reminded her of that Curious George book, the one where he eats a puzzle piece and they take a special picture of his belly. That made it okay. I plan to draw Curious George on her cast when I get back from Flashforward next week. I love this kid. 09.07.2006 My good friend, Kate, gave birth to her second baby yesterday. She'd asked me to act as her childbirth coach. So, when we got the call at 7:15 in the morning, I hoped to slip out of the house before Meridian woke up, so that I wouldn't have to tear myself away from a teary child unhappy not to have her usual morning routine as I rushed from the house. Alas, she woke up as I was gathering the last few things. Luckily, she can be reasoned with. "Meridian, you know that Kate has a baby in her belly, right?" She nods. "Well, the baby has decided to come out of Kate's belly so he can play with us! Isn't that fun? Would you like him to come out and play?" She nods vigorously. "Mommy needs to go over to Kate's to help the baby come out, and you'll spend the day with Papi, okay?" She agrees heartily to this plan, and I wonder if baby-love is perhaps genetic and I passed it on to her in her DNA. I didn't end up getting to see Meridian at all for the remainder of the day. So, when she woke up the next morning, I told her that Kate's baby had come out into the world, and she would see him next time we went to Kate's house. I asked her, "What do you think they named him?" Since she's been so taken with naming her dolls lately, I thought it would be fun for her to learn about another person being given a name. I expected her response to be "Mommy tell you," as it usually is when she doesn't knowthe answer to a question I've asked. Instead, she looked up thoughtfully, hmmmmmming to herself, and then pronounced unquestioningly "Tori". I was taken by surprise, and didn't have a ready answer, so I only said "No, they named him Blaise." Something must have gotten lost in translation, becuse she was firm in her own choice, "No, Tori." 08.29.2006 It is simply amazing how quickly language develops, and how once it has developed it seems they've always been able to communicate so effectively. This point was made poignantly for me this afternoon when I came across a post-card Meridian had sent to Papi at work several months ago. When he worked away from home, I would often have Meridian do her arts and crafts on cardstock, which were then turned into postcards to be mailed to Papi - a fun surprise for him in the middle of a work day. On the back I would record dictation as Meridian babbled and spoke. The post card is dated 4.3.2006, almost exactly five months ago. It reads: Table, yeah. Please. Please, yes. Hand. Daddy Papi Papi. Sit. Other. Knee. KNEE. bib. bibbibbibbib. Help. Yeah. there. work, yes. yogurt - that. Lap lesen. Buchs. Snack. snacksnack. Pleeeeease. Several things strike me. Most obvious is the degree of fluency and comprehension of sentence structure that has developed in only five months. If you look at the conversation from a few days ago, you see her stringing together eleven words to make three complete thoughts: "Papi cut yours cake. Cai pushing you, not Tanya pushing you." Where only five months ago, her attempts at sentences were there but each word punctuated as it's own thought. A pause between for her to process the next part of her thought: "Sit. Other. Knee." There's also the German factor. Five months ago, she was still trying to draw the boundaries - how should she divide the use of the two languages. In the postcard conversation, she was talking to me, so English prevails. But, she was talking ABOUT Papi, so the German peeks through. Even so, it's jumbled a bit - combining German words with English conjugations. In German, book is Buch. "Buchs" is her attempt at the German plural for books, but she pluralizes it with an -s ending, instead of the German -er ending, "Bücher". Also, she uses the English word order in her German sentence: Sit in your lap and read books. In German, it would be: Sitz auf dein Schoß und Bücher lesen, or "Sit in your lap and books read." By contrast, today she has fully worked out with whom she speaks English or German. She is adamant: German to Papi and Großvati, English to Mommy (and most everyone else). If I attempt to speak to her in German, she refuses, saying "No Mommy, English." Her German grammatical understanding matches her English, which is to say it's not perfect, but her mistakes in English (confusion of verb tense, elimination of sentence subject) are distinct from her mistakes in German (refusing to pluralize, omission of articles), and she rarely transposes the sentence structures of the two languages. The two grammatical error that prevail in both languages are the misuse of prounouns (she calls herself "you" in English and "du" in German) and referral of herself in the third person ("Meridian wants to swim.") The study of where the errors fall in each language and why, and how and why overlaps occur is really fascinating. I know, for example, that pronoun confusion is very common in American toddlers, so it's fascinating to see that the same confusion presents itself in German. Interestingly, she realized somewhere between the postcard and yesterday's conversation that her own understanding of German surpasses my own, and so she at times she has conversations with Papi in German, and then looks at me with - I kid you not - a patronizing look and translates to English for my benefit. This self-awareness amazes me and coaxes me in my heart to declare her the smartest little girl in the world. David and I sometimes spend time building a case for which is her primary language. English seems the obvious answer because she lives in an English-speaking country. Even while we've taken pains to try to add balance (German-speaking toys, German books, exposure to German-speaking people, German songs and finger games, very limited exposure to American media, etc), English is unquestionably more abundant in her life. Still, I've noticed (and others have pointed out to me) that when she plays alone, talking to herself and her dolls, her tendency is to use German, and I find that very interesting. What causes such a decision? Is she more comfortable in German? Or because she speaks it with so few people, does she consider it her special language and so shares it with her personal playthings? Or perhaps it's arbitrary and I only notice it more when she speaks to herself in German because it's not my language? The answer to the question is beyond reach, but makes for a very interesting brainteaser. Perhaps when she's a bit older she can shed some light on how her brain digests these two languages and makes sense of them. For now, we can only observe that she is clearly bilingual, and remark on the amazing ability to the infant and toddler brain to make sense of gibberish - in two languages. 08.27.2006 As part of our bedtime routine, after books and PJs and teeth-brushing, but before nursies and the final tuck-in, Meridian and I recount our day and assign feelings to the happenings of the day. Here's a peek into tonight's daily recap: Mommy: What did you do today that made you happy? 08.08.2006 Just checking in from our Florida vacation. We're still down here in the sun enjoying Grandmommy and Großvati's company. Meridian's speaking German with Großvati, and English with Grandmommy and me. Occassionally, either me or mom will try to speak to her in German, and she always stops us and says "No Mommy. English." It's cute, but it doesn't leave me much opportunity to practice my German! You may already know that my in-laws are foster parents for infants. They currently have two little babies in their home. Meridian is tickled pink over them, but a little confused by the whole situation. Romy, the five month old, goes to the baby-sitter each morning and we pick him up again in the evening. She hadn't mentioned anything and I'd assumed she hadn't noticed anything peculiar. Well, one day it was more convenient for the sitter to drop Romy off at home. So, she arrived with Romy in his carseat, and Meridian looked at her and exclaimed "THERE'S Romy's mommy!" When the sitter left a few minutes later, Meridian was visibly disturbed, and kept saying "No Romy's mommy go bye-bye." Later, Romy was crying relentlessly. Meridian came up to me and said "Mommy, Romy need nursies." Wondering if she was telling me to nurse him, or just commenting on the situation, I asked, "He does? Who should give ROmy nursies?" She thought for a moment before deciding "Grandmommy". As much as she likes Romy, she's even more taken with Antoine, the little 6lb three week old baby who is smaller than many of her dolls. She wants to hold him every time she sees him. And she coos and comforts him. How cute was it to find her hovered over him as he was whimpering, all the while cooing, "It's okay baby girl. It's okay baby girl." She's watched Kaitlynn comfort Shelby in this way. So very sweet. When I ask her if Antoineis a boy or a girl baby, she tells me he's a boy, but she can't helpo tacking "baby girl" on the end of her comforting words. Aside from the babies, we've been having beach and pool fun. She's quite the little fish! We spent several days on Sanibel Island, and she loved the beach with its shelly shore and warm calm water, so different from ours at home. She actually went into the water here instantly without any coaxing. At home, she gets her feet wet at best, so I was shocked when she plodded right in, and then demanded that I let go and let her do it herself. She would walk all the way up to neck-level and then jump when the little waves came. She didn't even mind when she inadvertantly ended up underwater. We'd pull her up, and she'd announce, "Meridian swimming underwater!" She's having a blast in Grandmommy's swimming pool too, which we're in two or three times a day. I put water wings on her for the first time ever. I was resistant to the idea at first, not wanting her to have a false sense of security in the water. But I relented realizing that I would be glued to the staircase the entire vacation. She's done well with them, liking her newfound freedom. But as predicted, they have given her the sense that she doesn't sink. Two or three times, she's whipped them off and splashed right in; of course, each time we were able to get to her right away and pull her out, but the lack of fear is notable. It's a mixed bag. On the one hand, I like that she's being so brave int he water, and I don't want to scare her off. On the other hand, I want her to have a healthy fear of water. I guess it will come with time. For now, we're sticking with lots of supervision. 07.28.2006 I'm behind again on anecdotes. While Ryan and kids were here last time, we took a little road trip down to see my cousin Karin in NC. Meridian was not the most sociable creature in the world while we were there. She wasn't as withdrawn as she usually is, probably because she recognizes Karin and Lance from photos, but she also wasn't climbing into their laps for hugs and kisses either. Predictably, Meridian just started to warm up as we were leaving. At least I got a smiley snap of the two of them together. The much more humorous photos of the trip though come from Meridian's exploration of Mommy's makeup bag. Meridian wakes up before I do in the morning. Generally she can be counted on to play in her room for a while and then come and wake me. Well, sharing a room changes things a little bit. So, one morning, I'm woken to Meridian handing me my deoderant and saying "No-no. Mommy's." In my sleep I congratulate myself on having taught Meridian that my toiletries are off limits, and then I hit the proverbial snooze button. Some time later, I have a moment of almost wakefulness where I think "Wow, Meridian is really playing quietly." Do I heed this blatant redflag and spring from the bed? No, snooze yet again. "Now do Mommy's," I hear Meridian say as she heaves herself onto the bed. Is she coming for the deoderant, I wonder, and stir enough to shove itbackunder the pillow. The the sticky want of the lipgloss being applied to my cheek jolts me awake. This is what awaits me:  07.09.2006 Meridian has developed a fascination with the stairs at the pool. To the point that she'd rather spend the entirety of her water time on the stairs than swim in the pool. So, we've started getting in at the deep side. First I jump in, she she jumps in to me. Then she swims to the ladder (still assisted, of course), climbs out (unassisted), and jumps back in. Periodically, I place her about 3-5 feet from the ladder, holding onto the wall without assistance, and have her "crabby walk" to the ladder. The idea being to develop skills that will help her get out of the water if she ever falls in alone. So, now you have the history. Well, yesterday, we took her for a quick dip in the pool before dinner. We swam as outlined above for a bit, and then she swam with David for a bit. David didn't know that I'm avoiding the stairs, so she asked to go to them and he helped her swim down that way. Well, darned if she wasn't glued there for the next 20 minutes. Finally I told her that other children wanted to play on the stairs too and that her turn was over. She did okay with that, and we headed back toward the ladder at the deep end. So we get there, and another little girl is climbing out, so she holds onto the wall waiting her turn, and I let her go. She pauses there for a few seconds, then looks at me with a glint in her eye, and starts crabby walking away from the ladder. "Where are you going?" I ask. "Stairs," is her single word reply. I look down the length of the pool. The stairs are a good 60 feet away. I think to myself, "Hey, if she makes it that far, she's earned it!" So, I tell her she can play on the stairs if she gets herself the whole way there. About a third of the way there, she starts to lose interest, lets go with one hand, swallows some water as a result, and asks to be held. So I hold her while she regains her composure. Then she starts trying to swim, ...towards the stairs of course. I tell her that Mommy's not helping her swim to the stairs, but that she can crabby walk if it's really important to her. So, she resumes. She gets to the 2/3 point, and we repeat the previous break. And she resumes again. By the time she finished, her arms were so tired, she could barely keep herself above water, but she kept at it. I was so proud of her! I let her play on the stairs until we were ready to leave. Sitting by the pool drying off in our towels, we talked about what it means to be persistent, and to keep trying even when a task seems very hard. I think she got it because by the end of our conversation, she was really proud of herself too. Which reminds me, I've been meaning to ask you guys to pipe up with feeling words. We're working on putting names to the different things that Meridian might be feeling so that she can express her feelings instead of pitching a fit. So far we do angry, scared, hurt, jealous, frustrated, sad (though she really hates this one, and gets upset just talking about it), excited, happy. What are we leaving out? Throw anything out there in the comments. Thanks in advance. 07.05.2006 Goodness, when you get this far behind, it's easier to duck out of writing another entry than it is to try to get caught up. Rest assured all is well here; we're just buried in summer fun. We've bounced from the zoo to the beach to the waterpark to the swimming pool. Meridian took swim lessons for a month, and was somewhat ambivalent about them. The skills were all things she knew for the most part, but she didn't seem like she knew them because she refused to "perform" for other people. She did better when the instructor ignored her. One day Meridian started crying and saying "Jenn away" and the other instructor, Ricky who Meridian did better with, said "Aww, she's crying because you're going away." I didn't have the heart to correct him and tell her that she actually was telling her to go away. So, something must be said for Meridian's sense of timing. She was born exactly on her due date (which only happens in 4% of births) and terrible twos began promptly on her birthday with five tantrums. Yep, we're definitely entering a new phase of parenting. Meridian is an easy child, and always has been. Deceptively easy. I had to confess to my sister recently that I really thought we would not be experiencing the terrible twos. Joke's on me. That said, it could be much worse. Honestly, it's not the tantrums so much as the lack of logic behind them that is so confounding. Last night she was standing on her stool at the sink, brushing her teeth. She backed up dangerously near the edge of it, so I said "Be careful." In her negating fashion of late, she responded "No be careful." I explained "Honey, Mommy said to be careful because your foot is near the edge of the stool and I don't want you to fall." Those were the precise words that caused the end of the world. Ryan came down with the kids to visit for a couple of weeks, and it was so interesting to watch the dynamic between Meridian and the girls. In the past, she's just observed as Kaitlynn has run the show. Not this time. They were like siblings. Dinner conversation was limited to the two girls, with no time for the adults to get a word in edgewise, and the typical conversation went something like this: Kaitlynn: I like more macaroni please. 06.03.2006 We went to the duckpond today, and there was a flock of baby geese. Meridian identified all the animals present as ducks, so we worked on vocabulary a bit. She caught on quickly that if it had a long neck it was a goose. Then I tried to teach her the plural for goose. "One goose, two GEESE," I would say. She got that okay. But when I changed the number she always reverted back to "goose". After several choruses of "One goose, five GEESE, one goose, eight GEESE," etc., she would repeat geese when I indicated it was right, but she wouldn't volunteer the word. She grew tired of the game, which became clear when I said "One goose, three ......." and paused for her to fill in the blank. "DUCKS," she decided, putting an end to our quiz. 06.02.2006 Today I was sitting in the rocking chair with Meridian in my lap. We were reading a great pile of books. As I was reading to her, I felt her gently "pinching" my forearm as though she were picking little lint fuzzies off my arm. I could see from the corner of my eye that she was depositing these fuzzies into my cell phone case, which she likes to use as a purse. Cute, I thought. When I stopped reading for a moment and watched her, I realized there weren't any fuzzies. "What are you putting into your purse, Meridian?" I asked her. "Freckles," she replied.  |
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