Entries in David (11)
Ramona, A Desk and Bullies
Ramona
Ana snuggled up on the couch this weekend and asked me, “Mama, what does ‘crestfallen’ mean?”
“Well, ‘crestfallen’ is kind of like being really sad and disappointed about something. Where did you hear that word?”
“I didn’t hear it. I read it. You know like, ‘Ramona was crestfallen.’”
The much loved copy of Ramona from my childhood was laying on the couch. Ana’s questions made much more sense now. She’s in the “advanced” track at school, but even so, none of her spelling or vocabulary words are quite so picturesque as “crestfallen.”
A David Short...
Friday evening the family was all sitting around the dining room table eating sorbet after a family walk around the harbor. David, pretty much out of nowhere (which is not so unusual) asks, “So how does the egg get from the man’s mouth into the woman’s tummy to make a baby?”
Jim asked, “Where did you learn about eggs?”
David, Motherhood First Recital
This out-of-focus and blurry image is of David at his piano debut. He played what I thought was “Mississippi Hot Dog”, but was called at the recital “A Variation on Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”. He was terribly excited, for all 42 seconds of his performance. :)
The Caterpillar relocation project, Ana rides a horse and David chases chickens
I planted many herbs this spring and actually grew some from seed with my daughter, Ana. They are all doing quite well, except for the oregano which gave up the ghost after the last huge thunder storm flooded the planter in which it was growing. The only problem I am facing right now are the caterpillars. There’s a large nest in the tree, right above my herbs. Did you know caterpillars love basil? Those little buggers are eating it up.
I go out and check on the basil several times a day. I find fuzzy little worms on the undersides of basil leaves their hair giving them away. One of them actually managed to eat half of one leaf yesterday. My only problem is that I can’t bring myself to kill the caterpillars. So I relocate them by putting them back in a tree or moving them to the wild strawberry plants that grow along our fence.
It's potty time...
I think, maybe! Lately, David has been in the habit of telling me when he has soiled his diaper. “Mommy, poopy!” he’ll say and then point to his behind. I’ll walk over and do the sniff test to confirm and David will happily consent to having his diaper changed.
Yesterday morning, I was in the bathroom doing the 5 minute mommy make-up thing before we were to start our day. David was standing on the toilet playing with his toothbrush, still in his pj’s, which on this occasion was the very long white “starter” shirt he had been baptized in a few weeks ago (I didn’t know what else to do with the shirts?!). Again he says, “Mommy, poopy!”
David, Motherhood Golden Moment
Yesterday afternoon, I was nearly finished with my workout before David woke up. The light was still extinguished in is room and thus it was dark. David hung out in his crib, even though he was awake, gurgling to himself and drinking the juice I had brought for him. Soon, we heard Ana charging up the stairs to go potty. Earlier in the day, she had an accident and had refused to put her pants back on and was wearing only her underwear. She had accessorized this outfit with her fluffy snowman slippers and her legs appeared as sticks for marshmallows. I suppose her feet were cold.
The Letting go...
Does it ever really end?
I took the kids to the park this morning, as I pretty much always do. Something happened today which doesn’t always happen. David, my son, has begun walking. These last three days as we have gone to the park, all he has wanted to do is walk…up and down the sidewalk. I walk along beside David and sometimes I’ll run a few steps ahead of him and kneel down so that he can tumble into my arms, the grin on his face outshining the morning sun. Many times, he’ll stumble and fall, and I’ll be there to pick him up. That’s part of my job description. I take his hand in mine and lift him up, back to walking position. Once he’s in motion, I force his fingers from around my hand and send him on his way.
Today, David let go of me. I didn’t have to let go of him. And in so doing, David steered himself down a different path, one heretofore we had not traveled, giggling, astonished at his new adventure. I walked behind him this time. I let go and observed. I didn’t jump in front of David, or attempt to steer him in any direction. He let go and so did I. And so it continues…
My heart grew three sizes in that instant.
I could elaborate…but I’ll leave it there…
David