I have two missions this summer
1. Watch the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe as out lined here: http://www.cnet.com/how-to/marvel-cinematic-universe-timeline-avengers/
I have watched all of the TV shows listed, and the first Captin America movie.
2. Try one new cocktail a week.
Paloma’s and Tom Collins have already been discovered. Now it is time to try more.
This will be fun, especially once my husband stops being sad that I won’t watch Civil War until we watch all of the others.
On November 20th, A turned 4. This year was the first, since she has been born that I was able to enjoy her birthday, and put the trauma of her birth behind me. There are many people who believe that if the outcome of a birth is a healthy baby and a healthy mama, then there is no room to complain, worry about, or regret any part of a birth. I believe that it is okay to acknowledge that things were rough and that you wish it had gone differently. I mean when A was born there was blood on the ceiling, so it wasn’t a cake walk. Ultimately though, I do have a beautiful girl, who is healthy, beautiful, smart, and vibrant. I am thankful for that, and this year I was able to enjoy her birthday day and celebrations with no twinges of sadness or regret.
A loves animals and her friends. She rides her scooter expertly around the city. She received a goldfish tank for her birthday, and a few weeks later was able to pick out a black goldfish, who she named Sodor. She is a great big sister. We all adore her.
On November 9, Tillie, who had lived with me just short of 17 years, died. She had been showing her age for a while. She was plagued by chronic ear infections, which caused deafness, she was partially blind, and was beginning to move slowly. That last day Tilly stopped being able to walk, her ear was bleeding, and she would lay and whimper. She was telling me very clearly that she was sick, and that it might be her time. The vet very kindly told me that she wasn’t going to get better, so I chose to let her go.
In another life time, December 31, 1996 to be exact, I went to the shelter with the boy I lived with. We wanted a second cat, but not a young kitten. We sat in the shelter for a long time until a small tortie with many toes climbed into Nick’s lap. She purred, flirted, and allowed herself to be petted. The shelter worker came in, shocked that Tillie was visible let alone sitting with someone. She told us that we were allowed to adopt no one else, because Tillie had been there a long time and had never appeared when adopters came around.
I was never her choice, but I kept her all those years, and we lived in agreement. I would feed her and she would let me cuddle her. When Shannon moved in she was ecstatic. She allowed him to pill her and would purr happily at his feet. The kids made her nervous, but that didn’t stop her from jumping in A’s crib or toddler bed to cuddle. A wasn’t a huge fan, because Tillie’s cataracts made her nervous, but lately she has been asking about her, and hoping that she is happy. It has been really difficult to describe death and what it means, without evoking heaven.
Tillie was the last of the two cats I adopted in another lifetime. When hearing about TIllie’s death, my friend Kara wrote, “I feel it an end of our youth as well.” I think there is probably some truth to that.
It has been lonely here without her. A newly acquired goldfish helped a bit, but not totally.
A had been talking about camping since the end of July, so in October I was finally able to take her. We went car camping at a state park 20 minutes from home. I took A and M early to set up the tent and play, and then Shannon came, and we cooked and ate dinner. After I built my first fire in 18 years, Shannon took M home for the night. A and I slept in the tent. We ate breakfast and were home by 11:00. It was a perfect first trip.
Family dinner
First night in the new sleeping bag
Waking up with Inga and Bagel
Campfire. One match (and a lint paraffin starter)!
Breakfast
For Halloween A wanted to be Chris Kratt and Max was going to be a lion. It made sense then for A to be Chris Kratt as a lion.
A as Chris Kratt in a lion power suit.
October provided several excellent opportunities for me to experiment with the cargo carrying capacities of the Yuba Mundo.
On Shannon’s birthday, Ada and I went to fetch the cake from Patisserie Poupon. I brought a tub to put it in. Once we got there I was uncertain that I could make it work. I plied A with cookies, so she sat patiently while I worked on the best way to carry the cake.
On our way to get the cake.
Loaded up and ready to go home.
Safely home!
The opening of the new Target was really exciting. Especially when I realized we could bike there. Their bike racks are super tall and a bit awkward, but hooray for not having to drive.
Not pictured is the giant box of diapers that we carried home.
Our final interesting haul of the month was pumpkins from the farmer’s market. In the past we have had to remember to drive to the market on the days we wanted to make a large purchase. Not anymore! As I was fiddling with the pumpkins, my friend Amber wandered by. She offered to drive the rear pumpkin home for us. At that point I had just finished making everything tight, so I shook the whole bike, by wiggling the pumpkin, which didn’t move at all. Amber laughed and told me she thought I had it all under control.
Watermelon toddler and our pumpkins
Pre-kiddos, I had a scooter, and although I had a love/hate relationship with trying to hold on to a scooter in Baltimore, I loved my scooter, and subsequently anything to do with scooters.
When A was less than a year old, I found a Barbie with a Vespa. She was on sale, and I figured I could give it to A on a later birthday. This week A found it in the closet, so I relented and gave it to her. She is in love. Today Barbie rode with us to the farmers’ market, and was shown proudly to everyone we encountered. Turns out I was a bit horrified to be the parent of a Barbie wielding little girl. I felt as if my feminism, supposedly already tarnished by my choice to stay home, was being challenged. I know this is ridiculous. A toy shouldn’t provide validation of my parenting, but Barbie has a long history, and giving one to my daughter wasn’t an easy choice.
I only remember having one Barbie of my own. She was a ballerina and I got her after my first ballet recital. She was beautiful, and I was in awe. Unfortunately, the Barbies of the 70s had terrific rubber feet. They were soft with a bit of stiffness to them. They were the best things in the whole world to chew, and chew them I did. Wisely, my mother gave me no more Barbies. Once I was older, I played with my sister’s barbies. I never saw her as a figure of beauty to emulate, I saw her as an outlet to my imagination. Barbie had wild adventures. I remember how much fun I had with Barbie, and in today’s market of crazy sexualized toys, Barbie seems quaint, a nostalgic throwback. I have to wonder though, is this little plastic doll benign or is she somehow going to contribute to my daughter’s sense of self worth.
For now Barbie will stay, and have adventures in my house. Today she rode a bike, maybe tomorrow she will go to the moon.
The day M was born
May and June slipped by before I had a chance to write about M’s birthday. I can not believe my beautiful funny little guy is one. There is something wonderful about this toddler, who I brought into the world with my own hands. He is determined, yet full of joy and pure happiness. He was quick to mobility and loves to climb. He adores his sister more than anyone else. He is content to play by himself, but hates to be in a room by himself. He is beginning to talk and has about 10 words (Dog, cat, gentle, Mama, Dada, Ada, go, ball, cheese, stomp). He gives hugs and kisses.
We had a birthday party brunch on his birthday. His paternal grandparents, and maternal grandmother came to celebrate with him. Three days before his birthday his baby cousin was born. It was supposed to rain, but held off so we had much of the party outside. He loved the cupcake and ate the whole thing.
Nona and Poppy enjoying the celebration
Playing with DeeDee
Kinetic Sculpture Race
A didn’t love her ballet class, so we had no idea what to expect at the recital. We had no idea what she had learned, or if she had learned anything at all. I was nervous about the recital, and also annoyed that it meant we couldn’t follow the kinetic sculpture race. On our way to the recital we stopped to check out the race, tutu and all.
Tap went well. A was close to the teacher and danced her heart out. It was cute. I relaxed.
In her tap outfit
They started the ballet number with the wrong song. Everyone else looked like a deer in the headlights, but not A. She started twirling immediately , she twirled so hard that by the time the real music started she had already tipped over, and was on the ground. She got up and began to twirl across the stage. Then she stopped in front of one of the other dancers and began telling her something. When questioned later she told me that she was showing off her eye make-up. Then she resumed twirling. I laughed until I cried. She was so cute, but so lost in her own little ballet bubble.
