"Just Ella"

As we drove to a school fundraiser the other night, the following conversation took place:

Ella:" Mom, I don't want to be Bonaldo anymore."
Me: "Okay, what do you want your last name to be?"
Ella: "No, I just want to be Ella."

This sort of conversation pretty much sums her up. As I've talked about endlessly on this blog, Ella B (excuse me, I mean "Just Ella") is a free spirit with a big personality. She knows exactly what she wants and doesn't want and isn't going to submit to any societal expectations, even when it comes to last names.

I saw her three-year-old personality in full force when we arrived at the restaurant for the fundraiser. She took her usual fifteen minutes to warm up to the crowd of teachers and students excitedly talking to her and telling her that they know me. She was not impressed by my apparent fame in the least. However, before I even realized it, she had shed her sweatshirt and was running around the restaurant in her super girl costume pretending to fly. She played a few rounds of hide and seek with a friend of mine, and downed an ice cream cone like it was her job. People were in awe of her: smile as wide as her face, tangled hair streaming behind her as she ran. She was captivating, mostly because she was doing whatever she wanted without worrying about what anyone thought (including the wait staff).

This display seemed incredibly appropriate given the event we were attending. As I said, it was a fundraiser for my school, but I didn't mention that it was for our PLAHD club, the gay-straight alliance that helps raise awareness and support for the LGBTQ community at our school. The club is not only for kids who are gay, but for anyone who supports the notion that we all deserve to live our lives free from discrimination, hate, and inequality based on sexual orientation, gender identity, etc.

It felt rather poignant, then, to see my daughter, entirely unaware of the fundraiser's purpose, running through a restaurant wearing a Halloween costume in March, being 100% herself just as all three-year-olds are. It got me thinking about when that all changes. At what point does it stop being okay to be ourselves? Sure, there are plenty of kids (these PLAHD club members to name a few) who refuse to let society stop them from being themselves, but we view them as kids who are making a decision to be individuals, and to some extent, making that decision may marginalize them. When will that happen to Ella? When will she have to stop and decide whether she's going to be herself or conform to some expectation of her culture or society? And what will she choose to do if being herself means being marginalized? Will she be confident enough to stay "Just Ella" if others decide they don't like what "Just Ella" stands for?

I mulled over these ideas as we enjoyed our sandwiches and fries, and some time after my friend left, Ella asked, "Where'd he go, Mommy?"  I told her he had to go home to, "have dinner with his husband." As soon as I said the words, I cringed at what her reaction would be. I assumed she would say something like, "Mommy, that's so silly! Boys don't have husbands!"

But she didn't say anything. She just kept on eating her ice cream cone as if I hadn't said anything funny at all. And I thought, wouldn't it be great if she grew up in a world where despite all the tough decisions she'll have to make about which parts of herself to let the world see, she won't have to worry about that one? Wouldn't it be great if being an openly gay teenager wasn't a brave decision?

I don't know how the world will view homosexuality in ten years. I hope that today is the beginning of something really positive, but I know there are still so many people out there who don't want a kid like Ella to be herself if being herself means offending their values. I'd like to think there is room in the world for a free spirit like Ella, but I just don't know. In the meantime, I hope "Just Ella" can find a way to keep wearing that super girl costume long after it doesn't fit. I hope she never lets it go.

Those three little hours

Sometimes Friday afternoons make me a little blue. Of course, I'm glad the week is over, and I'm looking forward to heading home, but I always get a little jealous of my kid-less friends who have plans to go out to dinner or to a movie, or to do something else fun. We don't get to go out a lot, and honestly, we don't even have the money for take out, and the thought of going home on Friday night and making chicken and broccoli just sounds a little bit depressing. On top of that, I'm tired after a long week, and though I'm excited to see the beezer, our afternoon times are not really the best. I feel like from the moment I pick her up to the moment she goes to bed, I pretty much spend the whole time arguing with her. She doesn't want to leave school (who can blame her- they have llamas and bearded dragons!), she doesn't want to get in the car, she doesn't want to go inside, she doesn't want to eat dinner, go potty, get in the bath, get her jammies on, go to sleep, etc! I feel terrible that I spend those two or three hours fighting with her, and sometimes I sort of dread going to get her, knowing that my exhausting week still isn't over yet.

Today I was definitely feeling those Friday blues, but this time I tried really hard to fight it. I tried to muster up the energy to be the best mom I could be for those three hours between pick up and bed time. So, when we got home, and Ella asked me to play with her, I didn't say, "No, Mommy has to make dinner." I said, "Sure. Let's go play." So we played until Mike got home, then hid in the tent and waited for him to find us. Then, all three of us played hide and seek until it was time for dinner. Little miss picky actually ate her whole dinner and asked for more, which has never happened in the history of forever. Then, we read a few books and headed upstairs.

After her bath, we read a few more books, and that's when the true cuteness began. She started "reading" the book, and by reading of course I mean that she has memorized some of the words, but when she is actually saying the exact words on the page, it's just about the cutest thing you've ever seen. Then, she started singing "The Wheels on the Bus" and shaking her hips on the bed. She ended all of this cuteness by giving me a hug and saying, "I'm glad you're here, Mom."

She's asleep now, and I can finally relax, and the whole afternoon made me realize that those three hours are pretty precious in my day, and even though I need to clean up and make dinner, and do a million other things, well, sometimes those things can wait, because Ella B is glad I'm here, and I'm glad, too.

Elf on the Shelf: Creepy or Cool?

So we've started the Elf on the Shelf tradition for the first time. For those of you who don't know, the elf on the shelf is a manipulation tool to keep your kids from misbehaving...I mean, a cute holiday tradition to last throughout the years!

Basically, you read this story called The Elf on the Shelf and it explains how this elf will come to your house and watch you and then report back to Santa every night about whether you were naughty or nice. Each morning he flies back and reappears in a different part of your house.When you first see him, you have to give him a name, and you can never touch him or his magic will disappear.

So, we read the book, and then Mike and I chose a place to hide the Elf after Ella went to sleep. The next morning I said to her, "Let's go see where the elf is hiding!" to which she replied, "Does he have really sharp teeth?!"

When we found him, she asked if she could wave to him. I said yes, and then she said, "He's not waving back," all annoyed. She also wanted to know why he didn't talk or walk or move. She even made a creepy smiley face like the elf and said, "Why he go like this?"

When all the questions were over, I told her we had to give him a name.

"What do you want to name him, El?"
"Um...chair."
"Chair?"
"Yeah, chair."
"Well, chair's not really a name, buddy. What about something like Pedro?"
"No, his name's chair."
"Okay."

Luckily, she kind of forgot about the whole "chair" thing and ever since he has just been "elf." Most of the time, I think she knows he isn't real, but if I say, "Wait until I tell Chair what you did!" she just about loses it. "No, Mommy! Don't tell him!"

So, yeah. That's a thing that's going on in our house.

Priceless

One Kindle Fire...$199.99

Watching a two-year-old teach her grandmother how to play Angry Birds...priceless

That little something special

Dear Ella,

This photograph is your most recent school picture. It will probably be that picture you put in the yearbook when you're 18, or it will be the one picture you like to show your boyfriends because it isn't embarrassing, and it shows that even at two years old, you weren't just cute, you were beautiful. I couldn't be more enamored with those sparkly eyes, that perfect smile, and those soft little cheeks, but those features are not what makes you beautiful.

There is a light in you, Ella. A light that shines so bright I am blinded, a light that sparkles and dazzles beyond what I could have ever imagined from my own child. You have this quality, the "It" factor that celebrities and politicians strive for because it makes the world fall in love with you.

I know this will sound absurd, but I feel like one of the reasons you were such a difficult baby was because you just had too much personality. You were ready to run and jump and laugh and entertain, and being a baby just didn't suit you. There has always been just too much life bursting out of you, and while this can sometimes be frustrating, I know it will serve you well in life.

I know that spark will give you the confidence to take the risks that will open up the whole world for you in a way I can only imagine. I'm so in awe of you Ella, of the fearless, confident, amazing little girl that I sometimes can't believe I created. I only hope that you never let the realities of this world take away that spark. I hope a little part of you will always remain the bright-eyed girl in this photograph, and that your light will only grow brighter.

I'll do my best to make that so.

Wordless Sunday: Full Punky Brewster

She insisted on every piece of this outfit including the striped leggings you can't see. Also, she wore an Easter basket as a hat at the grocery store today. Her father was thoroughly embarrassed.

Fantastic Gymnastics

Here's that girl again doing what she does best, which is all the things I'm too afraid to do. Fantastic Gymnastics to you too Ella B.

Election Day

Today I brought Ella to vote. This is her very first presidential election, so I was trying to explain things to her beforehand. Here's how the conversation went.

"El, we're going to vote for the new president."

"What's a president?"

"It's sort of like the king."

"The king of all wild things?!"

"Well, sort of..."

She was a little disappointed that neither Max nor any wild things were actually at the polling place, but she was pretty excited to get a sticker. She was also very excited to pee in the potty there, but just about lost it when the automatic flusher went off. Oh well, at least we cast our vote.

She spent the rest of the evening running around the house yelling, "Go Barack Obama! Go Barack Obama!"

That's my girl.

Entertain me

During Hurricane Sandy our family was very lucky to have sustained no damage, no power outages, and no injuries. We did, however, deal with the difficulty of spending several days stuck in the house with a 2 1/2 year old who wasn't allowed to go outside. The weather started to turn on Monday morning, and my school, Ella's daycare, and Mike's office all closed in anticipation of the storm. Mike and I both had work to do so we switched on and off between Ella duty and work duty throughout the day. Ella was generally thrilled that we were all home for another day (mostly because it meant she could stay in her pajamas), but also because she had the two of us to interchangably entertain her, and entertain her we did. By 9:30 that morning she had already fingerpainted, played with Playdoh, played catch, changed into a tutu, and ridden her quad in the living room.

At some point she got into her bin of play clothes, and she kept coming into the office to show me her latest costume. She would come in wearing sunglasses, a scarf, and a hat, or her safari outfit, or her waitress outfit and announce what she was about to do. "Mommy, I'm going on a camping trip!"

I wondered how we were going to survive so many hours stuck in the house, but for the most part she surprised me with her new found ability to play by herself. This is a truly magical moment in the life of a parent, when you suddenly realize your child is not pulling at your pant leg, and in looking around realize she isn't even at arms length. You perk up your ears for a moment and hear the quiet nonsense noises of a little girl talking to herself. You quietly peer around the corner and find that there she is, nestled among her dollies, or surrounded by her kitchen supplies playing happily without you. You tiptoe away as quietly as you arrived and bask in the freedom of the next five minutes. You go to the bathroom, have a cup of coffee, watch a few minutes of the Cooking Channel, or make a phone call. You know it will end soon, but after so many years of doing everything with one arm, one eyeball, and one pant leg focused on her, you stop to enjoy this moment of not being pulled in any direction.

Of course, this doesn't last long, and before you know it you hear her yell, "Ready or not! Come and find me!" even though you never agreed to a game of hide and seek. At first, you can't find her, and for the first time you are actually impressed with her hiding abilities. After a minute you start to get a little nervous until you hear that unmistakable giggle coming from the bathroom. You look around until you see a tiny hand peeking out from the cabinet under the sink, and you are reminded once again that a 2 1/2 year old is pretty good at entertaining herself.

A Super Girl

For the second year in a row Halloween came with a huge storm that threatened to thwart all those long awaited trick-or-treat plans. Last year Halloween was moved to November 5th, but this year our town was lucky enough to emerge from another super storm relatively unscathed, so we had Halloween on October 31st, just like in the good old days.

Last year Ella was only one and a half on Halloween, so she basically sat in a wagon with her friend Violet as we paraded around the neighborhood in the dark. I think she spent most of the night wondering what the hell we were doing and why we were such irresponsible parents.

What a difference a year makes. This time, she couldn't wait for "Pumpkin Day" to arrive and decided on her costume months in advance. Well, she decided on a costume months in advance. Since September she's been telling me that she would be a princess for Halloween. She told her teacher, Miss Meghan, my parents, and even her classmate's mother Kate that she was going to be a princess. Then, all of a sudden, she said she was going to be a ballerina. Fine, whatever. I hadn't bought a costume yet, so it didn't really matter. She stuck with the ballerina thing for quite a while, so as Halloween approached, we headed to Target for some tights and ballet shoes. Somehow we ended up in the Halloween aisle, and that's when Ella spotted the "super girl" costume. She fell in love immediately and said she wanted to be super girl for Halloween. It only cost $18, but I know how fickle toddler/preschoolers can be, so I didn't want to waste the money if she was never going to wear it. We must have stood in that aisle for ten minutes while I asked, "El, are you sure you want to be super girl and not a princess or a ballerina?" until I finally bit the bullet and bought the costume. When we got home, she couldn't wait to put it on and proceeded to wear her costume all day and night. I was pretty sure that we'd never be able to get that costume off. Of course, while having breakfast with my parents the next day I asked her to tell Nene and PopPop what she was going to be for Halloween. Her reply? A ballerina.

Luckily, she forgot all about the princesses and ballerinas by Halloween morning. That afternoon, Mike, Nene, and I went to watch the Halloween parade at school. Then, we headed over to Arlo and Violet's for some Halloween treats, including a witch's brew filled with God knows what and marshmallows. It was a great way to start the evening before we headed out around 5:30. We were definitely the first ones out, but others soon followed.

This year, Ella walked around the block all by herself (mostly) and couldn't wait to ring the doorbell. I had to nudge her a little to say "trick-or-treat," but she did it, and even mumbled an obligatory "thank you" now and then.

We collected a fair share of candy and Michael and I made sure to snag a few peanut butter cups for ourselves. We even got some pumpkin vodka and chocolate liqueur from our very generous neighbors. Before she went to bed, I had to wrestle her candy bag out of her hands. We decided to hide it in the guest room, or "Auntie Jessica's room" as Ella calls it, so "nobody takes it." Unfortunately, somebody did take a few pieces after she went to bed. How many years are you allowed to steal Halloween candy from your children?

Hope you all had a "super" Halloween!

Apple picking, one year later

Last weekend we went apple picking again, almost exactly one year later with the same awesome neighbors and the addition of my parents. I was looking at these two pictures of us from last year and this year and I started thinking about all the changes that have happened to Ella in the past year. Obviously 0-1 marks the biggest change in terms of physically going from being a crying, gelatinous blog, to learning to walk and talk, but really, the changes that happen from one to two are nothing short of miraculous. I was looking at some blog posts from a year ago, and I realized that last year at this time she was just learning to put words together to form sentences. She was saying "yesth" instead of "yes" and calling a blanket a "nanight." Now, she uses words like "actually" and "definitely" and requires me to "tell the truth." When I pick her up from daycare and ask her about her day, she says, "I don't want to talk about it." She tells Mike that he is her boyfriend, and when she finally gets in the bathtub after fighting us about it, she says, "See, that wasn't so bad." Now she has hair that streams down her back when she's in that tub, and when I look at her little body, I can already see it slimming out. She's getting those "kid legs" that come from spending days running and jumping like a real kid, not a baby, or even a toddler. She has cuts and scrapes now that I've never even kissed, and she knows what it means to pinky promise. She knows how to remember things, and when I first told her we were going apple picking, she said, "With Arlo and Violet? Like last year? Remember, Mom?" Yeah, buddy, I do remember. I'll try to always remember all of it, but when I don't, please remind me.

Ella B in NYC (the remix)

This weekend, Ella B took her second trip to NYC and this time she got to sleep over. The anticipation of this almost destroyed her. When I told her we were going to stay at Aunty Jessica's apartment and sleep in Aunty Jessica's bed, she just about died. I, of course, was dying to know how this was all going to work out.

We made plans to run/walk/stroll in this charity event for Big Brothers Big Sisters that Jessica's boyfriend, Alan, is apart of. I decided it would be easier to go in Friday night and sleep at Jess's than to take the train Saturday morning. Of course, this meant that Ella would have to sleep somewhere other than her crib. It also meant she would have to sleep in a regular bed in an apartment that is about the size of her bedroom. There were some very real fears about how this was going to work out.

We decided that it was best if she and I slept in the bed and Mike took the couch. The problem was how to get her to bed and whether or not I would be able to get up again once she was down. Luckily, she went down pretty easily. We took a bath, read a few books, had a bottle (I mean, what? My two-year-old doesn't drink out of a bottle. That's ridiculous. Anyway...), and then I shut out the lights and pretended to go to sleep. We told her that daddy had to "go to work" so he wouldn't be forced to lie down, too. This meant, however, that he had to sit in the living room/ non-functioning kitchen and occupy himself while remaining fairly silent. Every time Ella heard him clear his throat, she'd say:

"I think daddy's downstairs."

"There is no downstairs El, go to sleep."

She also kept putting her hand on my face and whispering, "Mommy, open your eyes."

Eventually, she gave up, rolled over and fell asleep. I was able to stealthily sneak out and sneak back in undetected. She slept through the night with no problems. I, on the other hand, kept waking up to find a tiny hand draped across my face, or a foot in my crotch. Now I know why she always wakes up with a huge knot in her hair. That girl doesn't stop moving.

In the morning, we headed over to Alan's apartment where Ella couldn't wait to tell Jess, "I slept in your bed last night." We went to Riverside Park and got ready for the race. Ella was especially excited that Dora was there and we got to take a picture with her. Mike narrowly avoided a traumatizing moment when he and Ella were following Dora as she went into a little tent. Suddenly, Dora started to remove her head, and Mike quickly turned around telling Ella, "Dora has to go potty right now."

We ran/walked/and strolled our way around the park and ate a few Whole Foods sandwiches at the end. Ella was excited to see "a lot of Franklins" which were really just Ninja Turtles, but she didn't know the difference.

The highlight for her was probably when we started and impromptu parachute party. She desperately wanted to hold up the parachute lying on the ground, but with only the three of us, it was pretty difficult. A few people joined us and before we knew it, we had formed a group and the kids were running and laughing underneath the parachute every time we lifted it up. Ella was afraid at first, but soon she was running underneath between Mike and I, laughing the whole way.

She never napped, so we called it a day soon after that. She fell asleep in the car on the way home and went to bed pretty early. All in all, it was a successful trip to the city, and Ella had another first. Her first sleepover in NYC, something I didn't do until I was probably 18. Ella B, you are so much cooler than me.

Sleepover party

 Last weekend we were lucky enough to have a four-legged house guest. He goes by the name of Bowie McGee and is the "child" of our good friends Amy and Mike. I awoke bright and early Saturday morning to a text message by Amy telling me our little friend was waiting downstairs and Ella and I rushed to greet her. Now, I have always been a dog person,and this is by far the longest period of time that I have ever gone without a dog in my life. It hurts a little bit to know that Ella doesn't have a dog of her own, mostly because I always thought our beloved pitbull/bulldog, Niko, would be her childhood pet. When Niko passed away, I figured we would get a new dog eventually, but on most days the truth is that I don't want another dog, I just want Niko back, and so our house remains pawless, and Ella remains petless.

Enter Miss Bowie into our lives for one short weekend and the toddler/beagle magic began to work its charms. Ella could not have been more excited and did not leave Bowie alone for one second of her visit. She pretended as if Bowie was just another friend who would want to play with her.

"Bowie, I'm gonna take your temperature." (That one made me pause and take a look).

"Does Bowie like headbands?" (Answer: No). 

"Bowie, let's play hide and seek. You hide first!"

"Bowie, watch me ride my bike."

And just as we all get annoyed when our friends don't listen to us, the love affair between Bowie and Ella had its problems, too.

"She's not hiding!"

"She's not watching me ride my bike."

Trying to explain to a two-year-old why a dog won't follow her orders is like trying to explain anything to a two-year-old. It doesn't work. But overall, they had a great time together. Bowie is the most patient toddler toy I have ever seen and she was handsomely rewarded with snuggles and chicken after Ella went to sleep. Just don't tell Amy about the chicken.

Overall, it definitely got those dog ideas swirling in our minds, but no progress yet. For now, I am only responsible for cleaning up one creatures poop, and that's fine with me. Mike's dad brought over two fish a few weeks ago, so we'll start there and see where it takes us. Who knows, maybe next week we'll get a hermit crab.

"Why that's an airplane?"

 It has finally happened. We have entered the "why" stage of childhood development. At this point, she is clocking a good 200-300 "whys" a day for sure. This makes my parents very happy because as legend has it, I was the queen of the why. I even had to stop going to catechism because all the questions were making the nuns a little nervous. And I'm telling you, I really don't mind all the questions. Questions in and of themselves are great and, really, I am happy to answer them. Here's an example:

               
                "Mom, why is that man outside?"

                "He's mowing his lawn."

This is fine. The question is straightforward, and I can easily answer it. The problem is that it doesn't end there.

               

                "Why's he mowing his lawn?"

                "So it will look nice."

                "Why it will look nice?"

                "Because when the grass is short, it looks neat and clean."

                

 Even up to this point, I feel confident that the questions and subsequent answers are logical and possibly even valuable, but it doesn't end there.

               

                "Why it looks neat and clean?"

                "Because...because when you cut it, it becomes more even and flat."

                "Why it does that?"

                "Why does it do what?"

               

 We inevitably end up in this place where we both sort of forget what "it" is referring to, and she gets frustrated because she wants the line of questioning to continue, but we've both pretty much forgotten what we're talking about.

                 

This is the part that drives me crazy. The questions that have no answers, like, "Mom, why that's an airplane?" Why is that an airplane? Because it's an airplane! How am I supposed to answer that question?! Ask me about God. Ask me about sex. Ask me about the meaning of life. But please don't ask me, "why that's an airplane?" because really El, it just is, and that's going to have to be good enough.

My own little 'Lympian'

This summer has been all about the Olympics, or as Ella would say the "Lympics" and our house has been no exception. My husband could spend all day, everyday watching whatever sport is on (handball, ping pong, race walking- yes, that is a legit sport in the Olympics), and Ella has started to follow suit. While we get her lotioned, and brushed, and diapered, and dressed after her bath at night, she usually watches a show to keep her sitting and distracted. Lately, we will ask her if she wants to watch one of her shows or the Olympics, and sometimes she says, "Lympics- I want to watch swimming." While she will watch other sports, swimming seems to be her favorite. She is fascinated by how quickly those men and women can race down the length of the pool, "really fast like an otter," and how they wear goggles and go "all the way under water." She likes to jump on the bed naked and yell, "USA! USA!" as if it really means something to her.

Swimming as her sport of choice is not really random. She has spent a lot of time in the pool this summer figuring out the whole swimming thing for herself. Recently, we went shopping for flotation devices and I let her pick the one she wanted to wear. It is a pink number with one floaty in the back and one in the front that are attached between her legs. From the minute we bought it, she has been asking to wear it in the pool, "so I don't sink."

The thing that amazes me most about this girl is how physically adept she is. As with rolling over, crawling, and walking, she pretty much learned how to swim in a week. Our neighbors who have a pool went away and gave us full reign of the backyard, so Ella B was in their pool everyday, two hours a day, for five days straight. In that time, she went from asking me to hold her, to telling me to let go of her, to learning to kick her legs, to learning how to swim away from me, saying, "Bye! I'm going to New York City!" She also likes to jump into the pool from the ladder and tells me to "move back, Mom. No, farther!"

Because I was never an athlete, I am constantly in awe of  her fearlessness, her determination, and her understanding of how to use her body to learn something. I know she is only two, but I think all these traits are the mark of a true athlete. I'm certain that sports will come easily to her, and I'm looking forward to standing on the sidelines and cheering her on- my wide eyes full of admiration and wonder. 

Summer Olympics 2028, here we come!

Ella B in NYC

Phase three of embracing the disaster came in the form of a little trip to New York City. Jessica has been asking us to come to New York for ages, and I finally decided Ella B and I were ready for the excursion. It helped that Jess was home that day and we were all able to board the train together and head down. Ella loved the train. She spent most of the time staring out the window, or "ruining" the pictures Jess was trying to color. She keeps telling people she went on a big school bus, but it was definitely a train.

Once we got there, we headed over to the Central Park Zoo. All Ella cared about was seeing the polar bear, so we were really hoping he would be out and about. Mr. Polar Bear did not disappoint, and ever since she has been imitating his swimming style. She wasn't really into any of the other animals, so we went to the petting zoo where she could get her hands on some goats, llamas, cows, etc. and that perked her up, but what she was really excited about was the pigeons. This girl is a true animal lover and all she wants to do is pet and cuddle every animal she sees. Much to her chagrin, wild birds don't really like to be pet. So, she spent about ten minutes focused on chasing a pigeon. I assumed her efforts were futile, until, of course, she actually caught the pigeon! Everything about the trip paled in comparison to that.

 Another highlight was seeing a random guy dressed as Elmo. Ella just about died, and it wasn't until we snapped some pictures with him that I noticed his knee pads and fanny pack. Weird.

 We met Alan for lunch at a nearby pub that also has tables you can write on with crayons, a score for anyone trying to actually eat food with a toddler present. 

Finally, we headed over to Dylan's Candy Shoppe and blew Ella's mind once more with a lollipop the size of her head. The whole place is decorated with bright colors, booths shaped like giant cupcakes, and even a bar. I really think this would be the perfect place for a kid or an adult party.

As we headed back to the train station after a fun-filled day, Ella promptly fell asleep in the stroller covered in lollipop, sunscreen, and sweat looking so disgusting that people were giving me dirty looks. I didn't care. Her disheveled appearance was the mark of a truly great day. 

Special Things

On Saturday we were outside playing with bubbles, one of Ella's biggest obsessions. She recently acquired a battery-powered bubble gun (aka- we just put batteries in a bubble gun she got a million years ago) that shoots a stream of bubbles with a squeeze of a button. This is pretty much heaven as far as she's concerned, mostly because she doesn't know how to blow bubbles herself and gets frustrated every time she tries to do it until she looks at me and declares, "It's not working." There aren't a lot of perfect antidotes to toddler problems, but in this case, there is. A seemingly endless stream of bubbles that requires not blowing and no help from mommy. That is perfection. 

After a while, she got bored of simply blowing the bubbles and wanted to chase them. I dutifully took command of the gun and blew the bubbles in her direction as she gleefully chased them amidst the ever-changing wind. At some point it dawned on her that she was no longer in possession of the gun and ran over to me shouting, "That's my bubble thing, Mommy. It's special to me. It's my special thing." Michael and I tried to stifle our laughter as best we could. Where did she get that one? How does she know the word special? As with most things, I realized she had learned something from me quite by accident. I thought about all the times I asked her not to touch my wedding rings, or a small elephant that was my grandmother's. "These things are special to mommy." Her slow and systematic acquisition of language and social understanding never ceases to amaze me. She realizes that certain things are valuable and worth protecting, and in the toddler Universe, a bubble gun ranks right up there at the top of the list.

I started thinking about what other things might be valuable to her: Her Marcia blanket (made by her teacher at school), and her Nene blanket (given to her by my mother) for sure, her Dora umbrella and raincoat, rocks, dandelions, worms we collect to put in the vegetable garden, her playground, squirrels, socks, Goodnight Gorilla and Marley book, her trampoline, the kitchen chair she uses to help me make dinner, as many kisses as she can steal from her father before bed ("Just one more"), having breakfast with Nene and Pop Pop on Sunday mornings, and that big blue house she calls her home ("Yay! I see our house, Mommy").

These are some of her special things, and I know that I rank pretty high on that list, too. And that's good because Ella B, you are my most special thing of all.

Wordless Wednesday: Funny Face

Two

In an ideal world, I would have written a post last Friday when Ella turned two. I had all kinds of grand plans about posting pictures from the day she was born and retelling the story of her super awesome birth and all of that, but this is not a perfect world. It is my unorganized, hectic, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of world, so instead I'll do this.

I was in a professional development workshop on Friday about poetry and the instructor gave us some time to write. I was supposed to write about someone I didn't know very well, but I had Ella B on the brain so I wrote about her. I started thinking about what my life was like before I met her and this is what I came up with.

Happy Birthday Ella B. I wrote you a poem.

Before I knew you

Before I knew you…

There were never rocks in my pockets or stickers on my face

Before I knew you…

I never saw dawn on a Sunday morning, nestled in a heap on the couch

Before I knew you…

No one ever begged to hold my hand

as if it were a dire need

Before I knew you…

I didn’t notice the way the bumblebee almost disappears when he

steps inside a flower to drink

Before I knew you…

I never knew how hard it was to form a word in your mouth for the first time.

You watch my face, your tiny lips following the path of mine

Before I knew you…

I never knew the feeling of failing when it mattered so much

Before I knew you…

I was lucky to feel the wonder of the world,

but I could never have imagined the wonder of you