Showing posts with label my kiddo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my kiddo. Show all posts

11.04.2013

She Has Grown.

She has grown.
An apple a day...
And she won't stop growing.

No matter how many times I implore her to do so, she just...won't...stop.

She reads chapter books and listens to boy bands.

She likes to exchange knowing looks when we see other kids acting out in public.

She writes me letters when she is upset with me.
 
She wears scuffed brown boots and skinny jeans almost every day. 

She remembers the name of my boss.

She has given up on the possibility of a younger sibling.

She is a stickler for schedules.

She just wants people to be nice to each other.

She has grown. 

And she won't stop growing.

This is a good thing, right?

8.29.2012

Miss Independent.

Summer is (unofficially) over. AB is back in school. New teacher. New babysitter. New backpack. New kicks. In the mornings when I do her hair, she watches The Electric Company instead of Sesame Street. There is no hassle at the door with shoes because she can tie them herself. At drop-off, instead of walking her to her classroom door she requests that we say our goodbyes about 10 feet away from where her classmates line up because she's a "big girl" now and can go by herself.

This morning she said to me with a huge grin, "Aren't you glad that your child is growing up?" (I kid you not.)

Yes....and no.

It is rather incredible to see her able to do all this new things without my help. It makes me feel like I'm doing a pretty good job at this parenting thing. But at the same time, there is a slight sadness that she doesn't need me to help her do these things anymore. Then I see how excited she is about everything, and the sadness disappears.

As I watched her confidently walk away from me this morning, I had a moment where I thought, there is no going back.

Look out, world, Miss Independent is coming through.

7.17.2012

Mommy Guilt Redux.

I feel like I should be Queen of Transitions at this point given all the various major life shifts I have made over the last 7+ years. Yet, with each one, no matter how much planning I do in preparation, it is a major shock to the system. While all of the changes have been for the better, it always feels not-so-awesome at the beginning because it's just plain different (which often translates into difficult).

The fact that AB is older is a bit of a double-edged sword. The good: We are able to have actual discussions about the changes and all the good things that will come from said changes. The bad: She is able to express her dismay about our being apart in a more mature (= more heartbreaking) way than ever before.

The tears, pleas, and letters (oh, the letters) leave me second guessing, as always, whether I am doing the right thing. I know that I am  and I know that I am going to feel guilty. But, I also know that she is going to be fine.

That I'm going to be fine.

That we're going to be fine.

Just as we have been every other time.

6.18.2012

Proud Mama.

The past few weeks have been full of milestones big and small for AB. She successfully completed kindergarten, testing well above grade level. (While I hate the thought of my kindergartener being tested at all, it's a spoonful of sugar that she did well.)
Last week, she completed her Lego Robotics camp, rubbing elbows with 4th and 5th graders and holding her own. She even made a new friend, an 8 year old, whom she would trade books with during free time. (Yay, for bookish nerdy kids!)

In addition, she has completed two summer reading programs, receiving two awesome brand spanking new prize books: Smile by Raina Telgemeier & Muggie Maggie by Beverly Cleary.  

Proud mama = me.

Therefore, I am ready to let the summer fun of sprinkler dancing, beach excursions, quality time with the grandparents, and book picnics begin.

4.20.2012

Out of the Mouths of Babes.

{image via we heart it}
A few weeks ago AB and I were sitting at the kitchen table. She was having a snack and I was knitting. Out of the blue, she turned to me and said, "I'm going to be a big sister one day." I said, "Really?" and continued knitting.

"Yeah, and you're going to have to go back to the hospital again."

"Why?"

"To get the new baby."

"Oh, I see." I smiled at her and continued knitting.

This past month two of her classmates have become big sisters, so this conversation wasn't really anything new. But then:

"And I'm going to get a new daddy, too. And he is going to be very kind to you."

Now, that gave me pause. I put down my knitting and gave her a huge hug. In that moment, I received encouragement from my child. She didn't know it. She was simply stating as fact what she believed the future held for us. But I needed it, because sometimes in the thick of things, it really does not feel like I am moving us forward at all. I feel that I am running in place. So, her unwavering belief that one day our family will expand was comforting. And the kindness of the new daddy. You could have knocked me over with a feather. He won't just be kind, he'll be very kind.

I know that it will not necessarily look like we envision it (i.e. the baby may come the daddy; the baby may not come from mommy's tummy,etc.) and it may take longer than we'd like (i.e. she may be in high school by the time the pieces fall into place), but it will happen.

Out of the mouths of babes often come gems.


3.29.2012

How To Talk To Kids.

She's only six, but it's already starting.

"So, how was your day?"

"Good."

"What did you learn today?"

"I don't know."

"What did you do today?"

"Nothing."

Really? You just spent 4 hours with a 29 other kids and 4 adults (teacher, student teacher, and parent volunteers) and you have absolutely nothing to say about it. Really?!

I know that I am not the only parent who is experiencing this. There are tons of articles written about it. Various tips for how to get your kid to talk to you. I was fully aware that this day would come. But it wasn't supposed to arrive so soon.

AB went on a field trip today. She talked about The Field Trip for weeks beforehand. She counted down the days until this oh so important day, March 29, 2012, when she would be going on The Field Trip. I was expecting to pick her up and find a kid who couldn't way to tell me about all the fun, amazing, unbelievable things that had happened on The Field Trip.

Instead, it was like pulling teeth. I was lucky that she even told me the names of her bus seat buddies. Hours later, during dinner, she finally shared some highlights of The Field Trip.

This is not supposed to be so hard. She's in kindergarten for heavens sake. When I pick her up, she should be excited, right? Bursting at the seams, ready to share all the awesome stuff that happens in the magical world of kindergarten. I shouldn't need use an arsenal of tactics that are meant for parents of tweens and teens.

I know that this is not a result of her school or her teacher, both of which are amazing. My frustration will most likely be alleviated by finding a different way to engage with her.

But I can't help but think, "This would so not be an issue if I were homeschooling."

3.23.2012

AB Pic of the Week.


This face.
This pout.
This arched eyebrow.
This particular expression. 
This exact face.
It is impossible to resist.

3.16.2012

AB Pic of the Week.



She shrieks with delight the moment she lays eyes a playground.
She speeds off to jump onto the first thing she sees, trusting that I will follow.
She performs seemingly death-defying leaps from varying heights. 
"Look at me, Mom!" 
She successfully completes a circuit of every single thing the playground has to offer.
She runs back to me with a mischievous gap-toothed grin on her face, asking,
 "Wanna watch me do it again?"

Yes, indeed, I do.
Forever.

3.12.2012

In The Absence of Kinks.

AB's  hair is chestnut brown with streaks of auburn that only show up when in the right amount of light. Her curls are loose yet defined. They are the curls that the kinks of my hair long to be. Her hair can be brushed into subtle waves. When wet it will spring back into its natural curl but longer.  Thankfully, she will never experience the burn of the hot comb, curling iron or relaxer. I live vicariously through her and let it lie as she flips it back out of her face with a grown up flair that it is apparently inherent in those with blessed with long hair. My mother worries that AB will become vain about her hair, while I worry that I will become (or have already become) vain about her hair.

While pregnant, I wondered incessantly about what she would look like. What would her coloring be? Would she have her father's blue eyes and my kinky 'fro? Would she be a beautiful mix of the two of us, or would the concoction of the two of us come out all wrong, uneven, a sign of our failed relationship?


I gave birth to white baby with straight hair and big brown eyes. I deconstructed her parts into mine and his until she was no longer a baby but simply another belonging to be divided. I got the eyes, the nose, the smile. He got the ears, the eyelashes, the feet, the build. We split the hair - the curls from me, the texture (or lack thereof) from him. Her complexion has darkened thanks to sun and age; however she is still, and forever shall remain, darker than him but lighter than me.

Despite finding these elements of me in her, I still fail to see the resemblance. But then, I think about how I don't really look like either of my parents. There are no "spitting images" in my family. There are glimpses and fragments that  appear and disappear. Wispy ghosts of resemblances.

This hair gives her anonymity. I like that she can slide through cultures with an ease that I cannot. She has been mistaken for a Latina (Dominican, Spanish, Mexican, you name it), an Indian (her surname, apparently, is quite common in India), and a Native American ("Oh, she's got that Cherokee blood, right?").

This mixture of African, Irish and Italian has given her a worldwide hue. I imagine her with her long multicultural hair tied up in a knot at the nape of her neck, backpack filled to the brim, notebook and pen in one hand and a camera in the other, traveling the world. I imagine that I have presented her with a key that will allow her to traverse this globe and be accepted by all. I picture her slipping in and out of cultural identities as she currently slips in and out of imaginary play  worlds.

She is the physical manifestion of what I wanted to experience in my youth. There is no pressure upon her to be black. There is no pressure on her to be white. She can be a chameleon and choose whatever she wants to be. This is my unintentional gift to her. This freedom that stems from the absence of kinks.

{Originally posted on Black Girl Investing}

12.13.2011

AB's 6th Birthday.


Oh, happy day.

Time with children runs through our fingers like water as we lift our hands, try to hold, to capture, to fix moments in a lens, a magic circle of images or word. We snap photos, videotape, memorialize while we experience a fast-forward in which there is no replay of even a single instant. - Louise Erdrich

10.26.2011

Raising a Reader.


As self-professed bibliophile,  one of the first thoughts I had regarding how I would raise Annabelle was that I wanted her to be a Reader.  We still have her very first book, Princess. What exactly is a Reader?  A Reader is quite different from a reader.  A Reader is someone who loves books & articles,  the printed word.  Someone who reads for the sake of reading.  Someone who would rather read than look at a screen.  Someone who is never bored because they always have reading material in hand.  Someone who cannot leave the house without at least one book…just in case. I am a Reader, and I wanted AB to be a Reader as well.  

In those blissful first months, I would strap her into her Baby Bjorn and we would prowl the bookstores.  She was happy and content and so was I.  Her first room also served as my library, so she was surrounded by books from the very beginning. 

She has been a library regular since she was four months old.  She graduated from the Bjorn to the stroller to toddling around by herself.  Libraries were exciting places for her.  Once I was in law school and there were more demands on my time, I had the babysitter take her to the library instead of staying in our apartment. And I read to her whenever I could, on the train, on the bus, waiting for said transit, at bedtime, after dinner, while waiting for dinner to finish cooking. In addition, I was reading all the time, as well. Books, books, books, all the time.

I read tons of parenting books and articles about how to teach your child to read. The majority of them said to follow your children’s lead. When they are ready to learn how to read,  they will let you know. So, I continued what I was doing. Toward the beginning of this year, she expressed interest in learning how to read, beyond the recognition of street signs and store names. Needless to say, I was overjoyed with this seemingly sudden turn of events.

Her interest has snowballed.  There is no stopping her now. Everyday, multiple times a day, she asks, “Can you read with me?” She can read many of the books she chooses herself, but she wants me to watch her reading and be her backup for tricky words.

Multiple times a week she asks, “Can we go to the library?” She got her own library card in celebration of starting kindergarten.  She has picked up my habit of choosing based on covers. She comes to me with dozens of books stacked up to her chin ready to check out with her very own card. I no longer count the amount of books in her stack.  This is one extravagance I cannot deny her, for you can never have too many books.

I am not ashamed to admit that I use books as leverage. If she is acting up, I threaten that there will be no bedtime reading and she quickly straightens up. Once she egregiously misbehaved at the library and lost her library privileges for a week. She was devastated. Given the threats of cutting library funding all over the country,  I want her to understand that the ability to go to a library and check out books for free is a privilege,  not a right.  She has a responsibility to care for the books when they are in her possession. So far,  so good.  

There was a moment earlier this month where she was asking me repeatedly to read to her, choosing books over computer games, movies, television and even playing outside.  I thought, “My plan is working! AB's a Reader!”  and I was able to push through my selfish annoyance at not being able to read my own book, crawl into her reading nook, fold myself into criss-cross applesauce and read Chrysanthemum with her (again).

Here are my tips for raising a Reader:

1.      Surround them with books: Studies have shown that having books in the home is a key part of your child’s success in school.  Make books (and magazines, and newspapers)  easily accessible to them. Books,  especially quality picture books,  are quite expensive,  so take advantage of your local library where there are a wealth of materials available to you for free.

2.      Be a model reader: Little ones model their parents’ behavior.  “Do as I say, not as I do,”  is just not going to cut it when it comes to reading.  If your kiddo never sees you picking up a book for pleasure, then they are never going to want to do it either.

3.      Start early: From the very beginning read to your child.  Some even recommend reading to them in utero.  Make books and reading a part of daily life. Raising a Reader is really about making your lifestyle conducive to reading.  The early you start making the conscious decisions regarding literacy, the easier it will be to integrate them into your parenting style.

4.      Take advantage of teaching moments: Early on, I used my daughter’s name as my computer login password to help her learn how to spell her name.  She was stoked that she got to use Mommy’s computer, and she worked on letter recognition. Words are everywhere, so take advantage. Signs are a great starting point and it also helps your child become acquainted with their neighborhood and immediate surroundings.

5.      Follow their lead:  Don’t force learning to read on them.  If you are reading to them and making books available,  the time will come when they will want to repeat the words after you or ask you what a word means or how to say it.  Let them pick out their own books.  They are more likely to be engaged with something in line with their interests. 

6.      Make it fun: When I say that we are going to the library, my daughter literally shouts, “Yay!”  Going to the library or bookstore is a way to spending quality time with your kids as well as show them that you value books and reading.  When reading with them, get into the characters and act out the story.  Get them laughing.  Get them engaged.  It really only takes one fun time to make them want to do it again and again and again, attempting to recreate the magic of a great story. 



Happy Reading!


 

10.21.2011

AB Pic of the Week.


The Kindergarten Pick-Up Artist.

While AB and I were at the library yesterday, I was approached by a cherubic little girl. She asked me if I would read a book to her. I suggested that she ask her dad, thinking that should be asking him to read to her. But instead, she was asking his permission for me to read to her. I was taken aback for a very brief moment, but then I thought, This kid wants to read so let's to read. AB was up for it, so we found a tiny table and started to read.

It soon became apparent that AB was a more advanced reader than our new friend. So I found myself trying to juggle an increasingly uninterested (and slightly jealous) 5 year old and a superinterested (and slightly hyper) 5 year old. After a few rounds of reading the first two pages from various books, interspersed with discussion of tomboys, princesses, and school fundraisers (oddly enough), the girls and I took the fun outside. We got permission from her dad (again) and went to the playground next to the library.

It was there that we proceeded to swing, run, climb, slide, spin, tag, hide, and seek until our new friend had to leave for a less (hello there, Mr. Extracurricular). However, her father and I made plans for the girls to meet again this afternoon.

There were two things that impressed me about this experience. First, the ease with which little kids become friends. The girls had never laid eyes on one another before. They didn't know each other's names (and still don't). But they quickly bonded over a love reading and playing. It was just so easy. Second, the confidence with which our new friend approached me with her reading proposal. I think part of it was her personality, which could definitely be described as gregarious. Yet, I also believe that it stemmed from experience. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that AB and I were not the first kid-parent duo she had picked up at the library. And I found that to be kind of awesome.

This unexpected playdate was truly unexpected joy, which is hands down the best kind. 

10.12.2011

Absent Presence: Reflections on Solo Parenting

Single mamahood is not all rainbows and butterflies. It is not everyday euphoria about being able to parent your offspring as you want with no interference.

Single mamahood is messy, frustrating and lonely.

Granted, this could be said about any parenting. But the journey of a single parent in the absence of involvement from the other parent is something quite different. Single mamahood is rough. No question. It is not something that you can do halfway. Single mamas don't have the luxury to be lazy. We get all the highs but we also get all the lows.

I've been on this single mama road for the past six years. It has not gotten any easier. In some ways, it has gotten harder because AB is now aware. She has memories of her (inconsistent) father. She realizes that her family is different than the other kids. She knows. She knows more than I would like based on her own (not so great) experiences with her father. Yet at the same time, I am grateful that I don't have to explain or skirt around the issue of why her father is not in her life. However, I am not proud of the fact that when she wants to talk about him with me (and only me) she whispers in secret her thoughts about how she loves him but does not like him.

As she grow older, more of her features and mannerisms are similar to his. The look on her face when she is dancing or finds something truly hilarious. I look at her and see him. This brings up new feelings for me. Just when I thought that I had successfully mastered the emotions of parenting alone, when I see him in her, his failures as a parent feel like my own. I wonder if my feelings of shame, embarrassment and failure will ever go away. I wonder if I will ever stop trying to (over)compensate for his absence.

It is rather amazing how someone who is absent can have such a presence in our lives. It is because I give his absence power. The power is fueled by hurt. That is what these feelings are really all about. My anger stems from the fact that he hurt me by not living up to my expectations.

I need to let that go. It is time to let that go.

Because despite his failings, AB is her own person. Those smiles and shuffling feet are hers, not his.

She is not him.

She is not me.

She is the best of both of us.

I need to remember that. It is time to remember that.