The other morning, Chloe, Sophie and I were walking to the school bus stop. The sky was a bright blue with some stray clouds, and the full moon was still visible.
Happy Hanukkah!
One candle down, only seven more to go. As you can see from the photo, the girls were very excited about Hanukkah. We started out the evening listening to an entertaining song about the holiday written and performed by my cousins. We then lit the candles.
It was finally time to open the presents. I decided that there would be a theme this year: reading and writing. Tonight’s gifts were personalized pencil cases and pencils, a little electric pencil sharpener, and little notebooks.
Chloe is definitely her father’s daughter. She loves gadgets. So she loved the pencil sharpener. But Sophie is also her father’s daughter. And there was only one pencil sharpener. There were some screams, and some tugging. But Chloe let Sophie have a turn, and as quickly as you can say Maccabees, first crisis averted. I promptly put the gizmo away in a safe place out of Sophie’s sight, for Chloe to use as needed.
Shortly afterwards, we all sat down at the dining room table while Chloe completed her homework. It was then that Sophie realized that her notebook was different from Chloe’s. Mommy was wearing her stupid hat when she bought those little books. What was I thinking? Sophie preferred Chloe’s because it had colored paper inside, and hers only had lined white paper. When I tried to explain why her notebook was so terrific – that it had lined paper and stars on the cover (Sophie loves stars, and she especially loves singing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”), she made her toddler psycho face and threw her notebook onto the floor.
I sometimes think Chloe is smarter than me when it comes to handling her little sister. Here I was trying to reason with my little girl for the umpteenth time. But you don’t reason with 2-year olds! And here was my big girl, Chloe, who came to the rescue again. She allowed Sophie to borrow her notebook for a few minutes, and what do you know, second (and last) crisis averted. Needless to say, Chloe’s success in appeasing Sophie was Chloe’s perfect Hanukkah gift to me.
I Hate Business Trips
My dear husband is going to Nashville tomorrow for business. He flies there every month or two for a couple of days because his company, for some mysterious reason, decided to plant most of its back office in Tennessee. Mind you, I’ve never been to Nashville, and it would never make my list of 1,000 places to see before I die, but I imagine it’s a nice enough place to visit. Perhaps I’ll go with him one day.
Let It Snow!
We had our first more-than-just-flurries snowfall today, and the girls regaled themselves sledding; Sophie for the first time.
I hate the winter and the snow, so I stayed inside to (1) nurse a cold, (2) do laundry (truly, I never thought this would be me at 39, but best-laid plans…), (3) belatedly order snowpants for Chloe since I thought I’d have at least another few weeks before she’d need them and (4) frantically try to wrap holiday presents before the girls returned to find me in flagrante delicto (and not in the sex sense, just the gift-wrapping sense).
Sophie was visibly excited about the white stuff; Chloe just a tiny bit blasé – all of those years of experience, you know. My husband thankfully noted how glad he was that we didn’t live in Canada, because it must have taken about 20 minutes just to get the two girls ready to go outside. Imagine having to do that everyday…
It’s one of those dreary, eerily quiet kind of Sundays. And it’s only December 2. Granted, we had an amazing spring, summer and fall, so who am I to complain? But it’s going to be an extremely long winter, if today’s weather is any indication of what the future holds. I’ve been thinking of taking a trip down to Florida in a couple of weeks to visit my ailing grandmother. That idea is becoming more appealing by the hour. Sunshine, here I come!
Betty Crocker?
I don’t know whether to be flattered or run for the hills. Chloe was watching her daily dose of TV when a commercial for a Betty Crocker baking kit appeared. You can guess what followed: “Mom, can we get this? It’s really creative! It’s only $10. You have the money for it.” The commercial showed a homemaker-type woman expertly decorating various cakes using all sorts of plastic tips and icing.
Crazy Love
I’ve written a lot about the things my girls do that drive me crazy. I’ve also written quite a bit about why I love them so much. Sometimes, however, the things that drive me crazy make me love them that much more.
Yahoo!
No, this entry has nothing to do with internet Yahoo! This is a story about our girls’ pre-bedtime ritual, which we lovingly call “Yahoo!” After much anticipation, the movie displaying the gleeful tomfoolery of Chloe, Sophie and their Papa is now available (see below).
I usually sit out this tradition, as it involves a bit of running, a lot of yelling, and some gentle throwing onto a bed – a potent mix for trouble that I tend to avoid like the plague lest someone get hurt. But Chloe recruited me the other day to film the ritual for blog posterity (she was indeed disappointed after I informed her that the original film was no good – her mommy is no Steven Spielberg). Here’s how it goes:
Papa sits on the bed in the attic. Chloe goes first, because Chloe always goes first. After yelling “one, two, three, GO!,” she starts running from the other side of the room towards the bed. As she approaches the outstretched arms of her dad, we all yell “Yahoo!” Papa then lifts her up over his head, and she flies through the air onto the mattress behind him.
Sophie goes next. She’s learning to count and has mastered “one, two, three, GO!” Luckily, she doesn’t have to count past three, because in her world, three is followed directly by ten, which is followed by nine. “One, two, three, ten, nine…” But that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, Sophie counts to three, and starts to run (and she’s really fast for a stubby-legged two-year old), we yell “Yahoo!,” and Papa tosses her onto the bed.
The girls, of course, are bursting with giggles and pre-bedtime energy. Papa is bursting with back pain. But no matter, Chloe and Sophie eventually go off to sleep as happy and tired as can be, and the adults in the household have a quiet evening to themselves. Yahoo!
Mommy = Chopped Liver?
It was Sophie’s turn to drive me crazy today. I know she’s only two, and some of you might not feel much sympathy for me after reading my humble story, but I really need to vent.
About Nothing
After posting 27 different stories about my kids over the last month, I find myself in a strange position. I don’t know what to write about tonight. The kiddies haven’t said or done anything particularly eventful, so following are some gentle stream-of-consciousness (à la André Breton and the French surrealists of the early 20th century, but with a dose of self-censorship on my part – since this is a family blog, after all – of which Breton would never approve,) musings about not much at all.
Sophie did say “love you” at one point a few hours ago, but she’s done that before. And she’s talking more clearly, using a vocabulary that expands by the day. She frolicked in the puddles on the way to the bus stop this morning and got very wet (Chloe never did such childish things). She pulled the pillows off the couch and improvised a bed on the floor. She had trouble falling asleep at naptime, and held court with herself for close to an hour before finally succumbing to her fatigue. Sophie has discovered the joys of privacy and suddenly likes to keep the door to the sunroom closed in order to make mischief without parental supervision.
Chloe came home from school with a new spelling journal. She has her first spelling test on Friday, with ‘short a’ words like cat, man, catch, at and an. She made a lovely thank-you card with intricate bubble letters (and a good amount of white-out) for a cousin who gave her a collection of books.
We told Chloe that she would be having a veggie burger for dinner tonight (it’s one of the only ways we can get vegetables into her tummy), but she is waging a veggie burger strike as I write this. It’s fifteen minutes until bedtime. She may end up going to bed hungry for the first time. I am sensing weakness on her part, however. I think she will cave because she’s starting to groan. Then again, she is her mother’s daughter and she is awfully stubborn. It’s now five minutes until bedtime and she’s still groaning. I’m starting to lose hope. It’s now five minutes past bedtime. The groaning continues unabated, now accompanied by manipulative tears. Almost 1/2 hour past bedtime, and she’s resorted to bargaining tactics. I’m starting to feel guilty, but I must remain strong. Am I to become one of those mean parents who sends her children to bed without eating? Is this the beginning of lifetime therapy for Chloe, mood-enhancing drugs, promiscuous sex? All because of a veggie burger? That would be truly pathetic.
Veggie burger update: Chloe finally agreed to eat about 1/2 of a veggie burger accompanied by pear slices at 8:45 pm. I guess her belly convinced her that she was getting nowhere by being stubborn, except hungrier.
Sisterly Love
What can I say? As much as I write about the kiddies and their “you’re driving me crazy” behavior, there is one thing about the duo that warms the cockles of my heart (I’ve always wanted the opportunity to use such a silly-sounding cliché), and reassures my husband and me that we must be doing something right. It’s their unfettered love for one another.
Over the long Thanksgiving weekend, many family members remarked on Chloe’s behavior towards little Sophie. While Chloe never hesitates to let us know when she’s upset with us (and much to our chagrin, she never hesitates to express such dissatisfaction in front of hordes of other people), she rarely exhibits anger with her sister. It does happen occasionally, of course, but she generally treats her sister with nothing but kindness and tenderness.
It’s the little things. If Sophie covets a toy that Chloe is using, Chloe is usually happy to share it with her sister. If Sophie is crying, Chloe will approach Sophie and ask her why. If Sophie needs help on the playground equipment, Chloe is there. If Sophie is jumping on the bed, Chloe is happy to join in the fun.
And Sophie idolizes her big sister. Whatever Chloe is doing, Sophie wants to do, too. She wants to eat whatever Chloe eats (it’s unfortunate that it’s not the other way around, because Sophie could teach Chloe a few things about enjoying good food). If Chloe is upset, she’ll shed crocodile tears in solidarity with her grande soeur. If Chloe likes a song, Sophie will joyfully dance to it. You get my point.
Truth be told, this sibling lovefest is unfamiliar territory for me. When my brother and I were kids, we endlessly tortured each other. Tickling combined with wet kisses was my favorite method; practicing Hulk Hogan-style wrestling moves on me was his preferred m.o. I am somewhat ashamed to admit that we didn’t start getting along until he visited me at college and realized that his sister knew how to have fun, too.
Needless to say, it’s a good thing those sibling rivalry genes don’t seem to have been inherited by my girls, who are off to a much more propitious start than my brother and me. Here’s hoping it lasts.