What Livia told me today:
“Do you like pink? I like pink. I like pink in the morning. I like pink at night. I like pink every single day.”
What Livia told me today:
“Do you like pink? I like pink. I like pink in the morning. I like pink at night. I like pink every single day.”
My kids like to make up their own words, like “keegher.” But sometime their made-up words sound an awful like words that already exist. Here’s a good example taken from a conversation I had yesterday with Livia.
Livia: Knock, knock.
Mommy: Who’s there?
Livia: Hooker.
(I paused for a second, but decided to go along with the joke.)
Mommy: Hooker who?
Livia: Hooker Mommy!
(Oh, dear.)
Mommy: Um, Livia, what’s a hooker?
Livia: Great and smiley and cute. That’s why I called you that.
She then proceeded to explain knock-knock jokes to me. She told me that first you say “knock, knock,” and then, when the other person answers, you say something funny.
I think she’s got it down!
Dear Livia,
I have a confession to make.
Once upon a time, you would not let me brush your hair. You would scream, squirm, run away, or cry, “Ow! Ow! Ow!” It was frustrating, and sometimes you’d go whole days without getting your hair brushed, simply because I didn’t want to deal with it.
I finally broke down and said something terrible. I said, “Livia, you need to let me brush your hair. If you don’t, spiders will start living in it! You don’t want spiders living in your hair, do you?”
You did not. You absolutely did not want spiders in your hair. You immediately let me brush it.
As the weeks went by, you discovered that having your hair brushed wasn’t so horrible. Soon you started letting me put your hair up. We discovered how cute you look in pigtails. We had some great mother-daughter bonding moments.
That little lie of mine worked so well that I didn’t feel bad about it at first. I had purchased a lot of good behavior and happy moments at the cost of one tiny spider-shaped smudge on my soul. I reasoned that my lie was close to the truth anyway. It is possible to get pests living in your hair, just not usually spiders.
But then one day Marshall wanted to brush your hair. When I asked why, he replied, “To make sure there are no tangles or spiders in there.” Then I felt bad. It was indeed a small lie, but it was misinformation that I didn’t want either of you to carry too far forward in life. I mean, if you mentioned something like that at school, people might make fun of you for your ignorance.
So I told you the truth. I was surprised at how well you took it. Neither of you seemed upset. You just absorbed the new information and moved on.
As I brushed your hair last night before bedtime, I marveled at how soft and shiny it is. I said, “Beautiful.” As you danced away, you replied, “Super beautiful!”
That you are.
Love,
Mom
Getting ourselves dressed up for formal events always seems like a bigger deal than the event itself. We’re not used to dressing nicely. It causes us to do unusual things, like these:
1. I really did tailor Marshall’s pants with masking tape and safety pins. All the dress pants that I could find for him were either too short or too long. By the time we figured out that perfect pants weren’t going to magically appear, we had run out of time for proper tailoring. Hence the masking tape. For the record, the tape held, and the pants looked pretty good, I think.
2. I really did break my long-held anti-paisley rule.
3. The most unbelievable of all: I really did wear 4-inch heels!
I’m up to 52 books for the year, which means I’ve already met my annual goal. Hooray! Here’s a look at two books I read recently.
Bossypants by Tina Fey
Grade: B
I feel bad about giving Bossypants a B grade, but I have to be honest. While the early parts about her youth were good, the book lost both its rhythm and its purpose as it progressed. It stopped being an amusing memoir and became a sort of random collection of funnyish things. At times Fey seemed self-effacing to the point of belittling herself, and it was a turnoff. I mean, I chose to read the book because I thought she was a comedic genius, but I guess I was wrong, because according to her, everyone else on SNL was so much funnier than she. Also, the whole Sarah Palin thing seemed to be a sore point for her, which is a shame, because those skits were the reason that some of us became fans. There were times, though, when Fey’s voice was confident and wise and funny. So, I wouldn’t say don’t read it. I would simply suggest going into it with an adjusted set of expectations.
The Case of the Deadly Butter Chicken (A Vish Puri Mystery) by Tarquin Hall
Grade: B+
The main character is an Indian detective named Vish Puri. Nicknamed “Chubby” by his wife, he has a passion for food, especially butter chicken. When the father of a Pakistani cricket star dies after eating butter chicken (the same chicken that Puri himself had eaten), Puri wants to investigate, and he is lucky enough to find a client willing to hire him to do just that. The clues take him all around Delhi and eventually into Pakistan, and along the way readers get a taste of modern life in that area of the world.
I thought the book was fun, but it wasn’t fleshed out enough for me. There weren’t a lot of lavish descriptions, but it seemed like just the kind of story that ought to have them. What good is an exotic locale if you don’t describe it to its fullest, right? I also don’t know much (or care much, frankly) about the sport of cricket, and that was a hindrance.
On the positive side, Vish Puri and his mother were amusing characters. What I enjoyed most, though, were the vocabulary (a partial glossary is included at the end of the book) and the history of the region. Though I knew in a vague way that Pakistan and Indian had once been part of the same country, it never occurred to me how the Partition might have been accomplished or how it might have affected the common people. This book goes into that, which made it very interesting.
My favorite passage from the book occurs just after Puri enters Pakistan. He hears the people speaking Urdu and realizes that he understands it.
And yet hearing some of the turns of phrase and enunciation took the detective back to his childhood, when he used to roam the streets of Delhi’s walled city where, after Partition, Urdu survived amongst a few old Dilli wallahs. In those days the bazaar storytellers used to gather on the steps of the Jamme Majid on Thursday evenings and the young detective would sit and listen to them recount the great Urdu epic the Dastan-e Amir Hamza. Tales of dashing princes, cloaks of invisibility and evil djinns had held him transfixed for hours.
And the language!
The language had been pure nectar—long phrases linked like carriages to create a train of thought fraught with multiple meanings. A phrase as simple as “the moon rose” would be rendered as “the sorcerer of this world changed his robes.”
Dear Kids,
A few weeks ago Grammie and I went on a shopping trip to buy clothes for you. We found and bought many nice things, and I now have two of the best-dressed kids in the world. But with Marshall out of toddler sizes, finding cute pajamas for him was difficult. We had to settle for some movie-themed pajamas that were sold in pairs. We chose an R2-D2/Darth Vader pair.
I knew that Marshall wouldn’t recognize those characters. But it also occurred to me that (wow!) Marshall was probably older than I was when I first saw Star Wars. So I decided that you and I should watch the movie together.
A few days later, I borrowed Star Wars from the library. We popped some popcorn and settled down to watch it. There were a couple of rough patches, like when Luke finds that his home has been destroyed. It’s a disturbing scene. Marshall suggested that Luke’s aunt and uncle had gone to the hospital. I let it go at that.
While that scene might have tainted your enjoyment of the movie somewhat, it wasn’t enough for you to give it up. After watching it once through with me, the two of you watched it at least three more times on your own. You call it “The Robot Movie,” and though it has long since been returned to the library, you still talk about it sometimes.
Having had pretty good success with Star Wars, I let you watch Tron with me. I don’t think it has held up as well as Star Wars has against the passing decades. But Marshall actually likes Tron better. In fact, he threw a fit the other day because we didn’t have the movie anymore. He was absolutely distraught. Feeling sorry for him, I plopped you in the car and took you to the library so that we could borrow the movie again.
The reason that Marshall likes Tron so much is that he’s totally fascinated with the movie’s fictional setting, which we call “Computer Land.” One morning he said to me, “Computer Land is in a lot of computers. You just can’t see it. I’m going to use a big laser to send you to Computer Land!” Later he added, “And I’m going to go to Computer Land, too. The laser will turn me into little pieces and then back into a big piece. Back and forth!”
For the record, Livia also wants to go to “‘Puter Wand,” as she says it, but she prefers “The Robot Movie.”
As for me, I like watching old movies with you. Being with you as you watch them for the first time makes them new again for me. Plus I just love spending time with you.
Love,
Mom
You know I like glass. And you know my husband and I like to go to Brimfield at least one a year for the antique show. So it shouldn’t be a big surprise that I acquired some glass at Brimfield this year. Let me show you what I bought.
I bought these because they reminded me of my grandmother (on my mother’s side). She used to have bottles like these around the windows in her house. I have a hard time recalling visual memories, so I can’t tell you exactly which colors, sizes, or designs her bottles were, only that these bottles are similar. They catch the sun and add a touch of color to my kitchen. I am very happy with them.
It may be shocking to some collectors, but I bought this bowl with the intention of actually using it. It’s just big enough to hold a bunch of bananas plus a couple of other small fruits, so we use it as a fruit bowl. It’s sitting on the kitchen counter, where it is exposed to dangers every day. It will almost certainly get scratched over time. It might even get chipped or cracked. Is that any way to treat vintage glass? I think so. Some things are meant to be used, not shut up in a case. Of course, it helps that the bowl is not worth much monetarily. It’s true value is that I like it.
Dear Livia,
You are just about 3.5 years old. You’re growing fast. You’ll be starting preschool in August. I’d better write down some stories about you so that we can remember how you were at this particular time. Here goes.
One day you kept asking me for the “dewderry,” and I had no idea what you were talking about. You were starting to get upset with me when I finally figured out what you meant. You were talking about your new Tinkerbell doll. You think she’s the “Tooth Fairy!”
Other cute things you say:
Now, as you can tell from that list, there are still some sounds that you either can’t or won’t say, notably F and S. The doctor said that if you don’t starting saying your S’s soon that you’ll have to go for speech therapy. We’ll get you the speech therapy if you need it, but I doubt it will be necessary. Marshall had his own special pronunciations for a long time, too. And he didn’t talk much until he started pre-K, but you’re already quite the conversationalist. So I’m not worried.
You’ve always been fascinated with letters. I taught you how to play tic-tac-toe and you loved making the symbols. X’s weren’t complex enough for you, so you would draw long symbols with multiple crossing lines. You used to litter my office with little scraps of paper that were covered with these “cryptic writings.”
You’ve already learned much of what they’ll be teaching in preschool. You can write your name. You recognize most of the letters when you see them. You can sing the whole alphabet song, too, and count from one to ten (and even a little beyond). It’s pretty impressive for a 3.5-year-old. You continue to amaze me.
Love,
Mom
My cat Zoulie has been losing weight for a long time. The last time she went to the vet, they talked about prebiotics or probiotics, or somesuch. We weren’t interested in going that route, so we just continued to do our best to feed her. As always, we kept the bowl of dry food full, but she refused to eat it. So we started feeding her canned food every day. And we stood guard over her every day as she ate, because otherwise Peeps and Mojo would push her away from the bowl. I started giving her more treats, because I hoped they might fatten her up.
And she has lingered on, already so skinny that it was hard to tell if she was actually getting skinnier. A couple of days ago, though, I noticed how very, very frail she looked. I started thinking about bringing her to the vet again, because I worried that she might be in pain.
Today I tried to feed her her morning meal, and she walked away. Skipping a meal is a very bad sign. Suddenly she seems to be having trouble jumping onto things and even sitting down seems like it’s painful to her. I’ll call the vet on Monday, but watching her behavior this morning, I wonder if she’s even going to make it through the weekend. Poor thing.
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