After all, tomorning is another day...

Recently we attended our first parent/teacher conference at Esmé's preschool. We were excited to hear what Mrs. Drew, Esmé's teacher, had to say. Though I knew better than to expect a detailed report of her daily activities and academic progress, I was hoping at least to have a better sense of what these past 5 months of school have meant for our girl. Esmé is doing well. She's right on track with all her developmental milestones– she can gallop, hop, balance, use crayons, throw balls. She knows her colors and shapes and body parts. She can use scissors and is making great headway with buttons and zippers. She respects her teacher's authority, follows directions well and shows respect and concern for her fellow classmates. But more than all that, which I pretty much knew already, the juiciest tidbit of info was hearing how happy she is. She's always game, always cheerful. This is what I was hoping for, because this is her first taste of school, and I want it to be a positive one. I don't want her enthusiasm stifled-- there's middle school gym class for that. I want her to get off on the right foot. And I'm happier than ever with our choice of The Neighborhood House. It's warm and nurturing. But more than that, they go above and beyond to provide an enriching experience for the children. A former parent of the school volunteers weekly to come in and teach the children about birds, often focusing on the visitors to the school's bird feeder. There's a music program. A community garden out back where the school has a plot. She's made applesauce and latkes, the latter of which she hasn't stopped talking about. She's already attended her first play.

On Tuesdays we attend a French playgroup together where she's slowly building a French vocabulary too. In general her verbal skills have gone through the roof lately. She's adopted all sorts of idioms too, which just crack me up. "Is that the plan?" or "OK Mommy, the problem with that is..." "Actually" is a big word for her, primarily because she loves, loves, loves to contradict. But possibly my favorite Esmé-ism of all time (and I just can't bring myself to correct her) is "Tomorning." As in, "OK Mommy, I'll do that tomorning when I get up." It's an extremely useful little word, we've all adopted it here at TLGH.

Another thing that Mrs. Drew pointed out and that we also appreciate about our daughter is her active and relentless imagination. On any given day she will spring out of bed and announce that she is someone else. More likely than not, that someone is Karen from Frosty. And if she's Karen, then we all have to be ready to assume our assigned roles in her fantasy world. I'm Karen's mommy (I'm a little bummed to be the only member of the family with an off-screen role). Kristopher is Professor Hinkle (the villain--dum, dum, dum!) and Theo is Hocus Pocus, the rabbit who betrays Professor H. Frosty is not represented because he's with us already. He tends to hang in the garage. Where it's cold.

Just yesterday Esmé was pretending to be Kallyope. Even going so far as to curl up on the chair that Kallyope favored at the end and to announce that she was getting ready to die now. Gulp. I think this is really positive for her, though hard for us to hear on many levels. But we're trying to respect her need to work things out the only way she knows how. And I don't want to color her attitude about any of it.

Just this weekend we took our first excursion as a family to The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I wasn't sure exactly how much of the museum we'd be able to absorb and tackle, and in the end I was amazed at what we accomplished and how much fun we all had, Grandma included. Esmé was determined to see the Degas ballerinas and Jackson Pollack. In both cases as soon as we entered the correct gallery she made a bee line for the painting in question. I have Olivia to thank for that. I was particularly struck by how she responded to the modern art in general. The large scale, graphic pieces seemed to really resonate with her.

And Theo was great too. I really expected him to tire quickly of the whole thing, but he was such a happy camper. He's making some great leaps himself as well. He's on the cusp of crawling, and I do think he'll crawl unlike his sister who preferred scooting. He gets himself on his hands, and thrusts forward, but he hasn't quite gotten his bottom up, off the ground. He's finding the whole thing very frustrating. The funny thing is that he's able to move, somehow, though we've never actually seen it. I suspect he's doing a sort of modified scoot, but he always saves it for when I leave the room. I'll wander into the kitchen for a moment or two only to return and find him in a different location. So maybe he will give up and scoot in the end after all.

Theo has always had a thing for fanning his hands in front of his mouth. He'll often grab the spoon from whoever is feeding him, ram it into his mouth and then commence fanning as if he was stroking some unseen goatee. Recently he has found his lips and now whiles away the moments strumming his "mouth banjo." Here he is jamming...



Since 6 months he has said "Mama," sometimes in my general vicinity. This weekend I think I might have caught his version of "Esmé," but I'll have to get back to you on that when I'm more certain. He loves to imitate sounds in general. If I sing to him, he often offers a song in return. It's such a hoot to watch him try to purse his lips in a kiss. He even does his own version of the "MWAH" sound effect.

He's eating well (he especially loves pasta, must be his Italian heritage). Sleeping well. And getting ready to turn one. Wow! One thing I can tell you is that this kid absolutely will not wear a bib. It was a battle of wills this morning, and in the end, I lost. He has always had a bit of a temper. Even in the hospital, when he was just hours old, one the of the nurses made that observation. At the time, we dismissed it as a little too soon to make such a call. I mean newborns aren't exactly smiley types. But our boy does rage a bit when he's not happy with his situation. And to watch him yank and tug at that bib with such fury, I decided that with this kid, I am definitely going to have to pick my battles.

We'll see what tomorning brings.

Darling Kallyope

Kallyope has joined our beloved Rosie wherever it is cats go.
I hope it's soft and cozy, with tuna cans a-plenty and lots of loving hands for stroking. As Kristopher put it, "I may have chosen her, but she was your cat." And she was. She was my companion. For many years we even shared a pillow. Throughout my pregnancies she seemed to fuss over me, going so far as to try to lick my growing belly. After Esmé was born, she retreated to the basement and spent Esmé's first three months in seclusion. I worried about her, but was often too sleep deprived and spread too thin to do anything about it. However once those three months were up, Kallyope returned to us with a stoic acceptance of what was going to be the new norm. And she treated our daughter with a love and understanding that far surpassed my expectations. You see, Kallyope didn't like noise and ruckus. She didn't like people getting in her face or handling her too much. So you could imagine what life for her was like with Esmé the toddler. Though we did our best to curb Esmé's boisterous expressions of kitty love, there was often little we could do. And not once, not once did Kallyope lash out at Esmé. She never hissed. Nothing. (Believe me, there were plenty of others who weren't so lucky.)
And I loved her all the more for it. And so did Esmé.

At Esmé's preschool Thanksgiving banquet she said she was most thankful for her cat.

And when told that Kallyope was with Rosie now, Esmé said, "But who are we going to pet?"

Esmé is handling this well. Taking this sad lesson in stride. The other day she told me, "I'll be sad when you die, Mommy."

I didn't know how to respond. I just hate that the world is a little less perfect for her now.

As it is for us all.


You are lost and gone forever. Dreadful sorry, Clementine...

Happy Christmas

We're caught up in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season here, but I did want to steal a moment and share this Esmé original. It is her own composition, lyrics and all. Enjoy!


And here we are visiting Santa. The request this year? A teddy bear. Oh, and, some toys for Theo. Theo just cracks me up in this photo, little man baby that he is. I swear he looks like he's ready to sell Mr. Kringle some insurance.

Eat Pray Love

It's about time that Theo have his own dedicated post. His sister does get the lion's share of the attention here. And when I last wrote about him, well, it was to vent about his erratic sleep habits. Suffice to say, we're still struggling on that front. I've taken a new attitude, though. Dr. F has been summarily relieved of his services. And instead I'm just going with it. We have good nights and bad nights. And I have good days where I'm able to rise above the sleep deprivation. And not-so-good days when I'm not. But we're managing.

The big news in Theo's world is that he is FINALLY eating. We introduced solids on his 6-month birthday. He was neutral at best about it. And it's been a long, slow process over the course of these two months. I've managed to keep the new foods coming, but it's literally been one tiny spoonful at a time. He'd grimace. He'd shudder. He'd make it clear that this was more my idea than his.

And then one day I broke out the prunes. Mainly because his system appeared to need a little encouragement. And he loved them! Ate the whole bowl. And he's been a relatively happy eater ever since.

So, here's what we're eating: cereal, avocado, peas, pears, kiwi, mango, prunes, sweet potatoes, carrots, broccoli, egg yolk, yogurt and tofu. He seems to like food with texture so I'm just sort of cooking and fork mashing his food as we go. With Esmé I did a lot of advance prep, freezing batches of pureed foods. Our lifestyle, and his slow start, didn't warrant that approach this time around. He's not quite ready for self-feeding yet, but it's on the horizon, I think. And then we'll try O's and those sort of munchies. He does love taking over the spoon.




And I love seeing an empty bowl.

The Butterfly Effect

Halloween almost didn't happen.
On the morning of the occasion Esmé announced that she did not want to go trick-or-treating. This was a surprise. But one thing we've learned, the harder you push the more resistance you get. It's one of those laws, like opposites attract and what goes up must come down. So we tabled the issue and moved on with our day. To be fair, Halloween being on a Sunday ramps the whole celebration up to Chanukah proportions. There was the celebration at school on Friday. Followed by the big village parade. No wonder she had had enough. Even I was sort of done with the whole affair. But at the same time, I hated to think of her missing out on what I consider the best part. Something she'd never forgive me for later (and it's all laid bare here on the blog for her to see, so there'd be no hiding it). And I knew that once she knew what was in store, she'd be so game. But for Esmé the whole trick-or-treating thing was still so theoretical. So we began our day as if it were any other day...

Over breakfast, casually, I mentioned that Sofia would be trick-or-treating later. To which Esmé replied, "I don't want to go trick-or-treating."

As we ran some errands in town, Kristopher wondered out loud if we would have enough candy for all the trick-or-treaters who'd be coming to our house. Nothing from Esmé.

As I mulled over this new development I realized what was at the heart of it for Esmé. To be sure, there was a little Halloween fatigue at work. By being stretched over three days, it was exhausting for us all. But that all notwithstanding, we didn't get off on the best foot Friday. Esmé was reluctant to put her costume on in the first place. And it's something, with hindsight, I suppose I could have anticipated. Esmé wanted to be a butterfly. It was totally her pick. And she wanted Theo to be a caterpillar. Cute, right? We even themed their costumes around The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle for added fun. After failing at my first attempt at wings (damn you Martha), I Modge Podged up a set of wings for Esmé that were perfect. All that she needed were a set of pipe cleaner antennae and a black warm-up suit. Voila!



I see Halloween as a day where you get to check yourself at the door and transform into something else altogether. So, I totally took for granted that my pink-obsessed, skirts-and-dresses-only-please daughter would be totally on board with the butterfly plan. I even prepped her, briefed her and demonstrated to her what exactly she'd be wearing. But, as I said before, this was all still in the theoretical realm for Esmé. Sure thing, Mom. No problemo.

So we had fireworks Friday morning before school. I struggled to get the black pants and top on her. But ultimately I prevailed. It wasn't until Kristopher and I joined Esmé at school for her party that I sort of got it. Most of the little girls were dressed as some sort of winged creature be it a butterfly or fairy. And they were all a symphony of pastels and marabou, tulle and tiaras. And then there was my daughter, in her black warm-up suit and home-made wings. Pipe cleaners bouncing with her every leap and twirl. Though I was proud to have made my little girl's costume. I feared that in doing so I made things a little harder for her.



My mother always made my costumes. And I remember feeling nothing but pride about that fact. At home we'd scoff the store-bought costume as I quite literally transformed into a lion or lizard, King Kong or court jester. I was a frequent winner at costume contests taking home top honors and big prizes like a shiny new Schwinn.

Watching Esmé mingle among her peers at the party, my heart ached for her a little. Her wide wing span bumping this kid here, knocking over that juice box there. I knew I wanted to continue making her costumes. It's a creative act and gesture of love all rolled into one fabulous memory. But I also realized that I am going to need to respect where she is at that moment and how she is defining herself. Make-believe is a big part of her play right now, but it is never an escape from how she sees herself, it is almost always an enhancement of it. So for now it's all about pink. And ballerinas. And skirts. And dresses.

So while Esmé took her afternoon nap on Halloween, I pulled out her fuchsia tutu. I dug out her pink turtleneck and beloved stripy stockings. I insisted she layer for warmth, but I also made sure that all her favorites were on top for everyone to see. And we were all relieved to see her slip on her wings and happily bound out the door to join Sofia for trick-or-treating. It was quite a transformation.

Fall Round-up

Ideally the following post would have been broken into a series of shorter posts, scattered throughout the past few months. But I'm not nearly that organized these days and life has not been terribly accommodating lately. See my last post, for example. So instead, here's a look at all the fun we've been managing on surprisingly little sleep...

In early September, we went apple, pear and raspberry picking. Yes, raspberry picking. We went to Alstede Farm where you can pick just about anything if you time it right. Including gooseberries, who knew?



And after much anticipation (over a year's worth), Esmé finally took that pony ride. And she's hooked. What's next? Maybe camel rides this Fourth of July.


In addition to fruit harvesting and pony rides, there were all sorts of other fun activities, including swimming in a vat of corn kernels.







I made good on a promise and participated in the Lehigh Valley Marathon as a member of the Four Hawks and a Lion relay team. Here we are:



Rather than try to squeeze a regular routine of running into my life, I'm opting for the run the occasional race regimen. This way I get to run with zero preparation and often on little sleep. And in this case, while fighting a cold. I like the idea of maximizing my potential for injury while minimizing the overall benefit of running in the first place. It seems to be working for me. Check out how I leave one of my competitors in the dust. To be fair, he was actually running the full marathon. Not 1/5.


It almost goes without saying that we took a pass on hosting Oktoberfest this year. It was not an easy decision, but both Kristopher and I agreed that we just didn't have it in us. To be sure, we plan to be back in form next year. Meanwhile, we did host a much, much smaller version to celebrate the combined, September birthdays of K and Stephanie. And this gave Theo an opportunity to dress the part, courtesy of his pal Calder.


Also wrapped up into Kristopher's birthday celebration was a fun visit to The Crayola Factory with Tia, Tio and Bini.



And not hosting Oktoberfest does not exclude us from attending Oktoberfest celebrations elsewhere. So when Christy and Eric invited us out to Reading to experience the Reading Liederkranz's Oktoberfest, we were game. Esmé especially loved the music and dancing. And we all enjoyed the food and company, of course.








We managed two trips to the zoo. Once to The Turtleback Zoo. And once to The Bronx Zoo. We're members of both zoos, so this is an easy daytrip for us and one that never disappoints. Because it's fall, both zoos had lots of haystacks scattered about, so we took it as a (photo) opportunity to snag a rare pic of both kids together.





Apple picking- check. Sausages and sauerkraut- check. Zoo- check. Seems like all that's left is pumpkin picking and our fall rituals would be complete. Pop and Sarah took care of that for us this year and we all had a great day together.

Paging Dr. Ferber

Tired doesn't begin to describe the general sentiment here at TLGH. Exhausted would be putting it lightly. And there's only one hopelessly sweet, deliciously adorable little boy to blame. Every few hours, and even sometimes on the hour, Theo is up. And not only is he up. He's wide awake and screaming his little lungs out. Too make matters even more unpleasant, Theo still bunks with us. And while he's still causing such a nightly ruckus we cannot enact our larger plan which is to move him in with his big sister. Naively when I hatched this plan, back when he was just little tadpole sprouting arms and legs and cultivating his major organs, I thought by 6 months we'd have him and Esmé sharing a room. Ha. We're nowhere near that milestone. Meanwhile, three's swiftly becoming a crowd, and I'm getting ready to change the all-you-can eat nursing bar from the 24-hour establishment it's been to something a little more humane for us all. So we've called in the big guns, i.e., Dr. Ferber. Mr. Cry-It-Out himself. Or, as I believe he'd prefer to call it, progressive waiting.

How did we get here? Well, because we live in a little house where even the slightest bit of noise seems to reverberate off every wall and because Theo has a big sister whose sleep is also very important to us all, there's a chance I might have been over-responding to his cries. Maybe. I don't know. Honestly I'm too tired to know where we went from what seemed like a normal nightly routine to this.

And following Dr. F's program while we're all holed up in the same room is thoroughly, horridly unpleasant. But we are making headway (I'm striking every wooden and faux wooden surface in sight as I type this). We've had a few decent nights. And daytime sleep is starting to follow a pattern.

So while we're progressively waiting for our little boy to find his way to a more complete night's sleep, we're still filling our days with as much fun as we can muster under the circumstances.