Be careful what you ask for...

you might just get a 2 year old that doesn't stop talking...like really, doesn't stop talking from the moment she wakes up and sings to herself until we come in and get her in the morning until she's ready for bed and (thankfully) has her fingers in her mouth and will be quiet during books. However, I am totally loving pretend play.

Overheard this week:

on our walk past a spot where we had collected pinecones a few days before:

"No pinecones?"
No Stella, I guess they are all gone. We have more at home.
"Bunny, no pinecones. It's ok. Pinecones home. No Bunny, it's ok."

to her cloth baby doll, sitting in the stroller:
"Baby! You poop?" Sniffs. Pulls back the doll's diaper. "No, no poop. It's ok."

to her bear, at her little table in the dining room:
"Oh Bear... bear. Bear's cute. Tea, bear? Tea. Yah. Tea. It's good." (Lip smacking sounds). "All gone? Wow Bear. More tea??"

as she pulls down her bowl of lentil stew off the counter for dinner:
(looking the bowl) Oh no... beans! no....no... no... beans again! (Puts the bowl back on the counter in disgust)

I'm really digging two right now. I'm not digging the fact that she has started not to listen, continually tries to stand up in her chair during dinner and pulls the dog's tail, but other than that, I like two. I feel like we're having conversations now, and overhearing the conversations she has with her animals and doll are just too funny. Bunny is not just Bunny, but Bun-NEEEEE. (emphasis on the NEE). She also seems to be obsessed with clean and dirty right now, although I kind of feel that's weird because I don't remember saying it a whole lot, but I guess i do? I mean, I'm the one who lets her traipse all over the yard without shoes, get into the gardens and mud, etc. Every time we get into her car seat, she feels the cover and goes, "It's clean." Um, well, it's probably not, I tell her. "Oh, dirty. Pup clean?" well, i guess so. "Pup soft..." definitely. She could care less about washing her hands, but she is concerned if her animals are clean or dirty and whether they are soft (luckily, they all are both soft and mostly clean). Good thing she hasn't started on me about my kitchen floors.

To a little one who's two...

Dear Stella:

I'm pretty sure I said this last year, but your daddy and I are really amazed you are two. However, I have a feeling each birthday milestone, we will continue to be baffled that we have a girl and she keeps getting bigger and changing every day.

I think I realized this about 2 weeks ago when you were at the playground and started climbing up a part of the play structure that you've not been able to do before. You did it with ease (and of course, with me standing there wondering whether I was 1) a bad mother for letting you crawl up something that was obviously intended for older kids or 2) should be holding on to you so you didn't fall splat on your face.

Four months ago, you didn't say Mama, and now we can't get you to keep quiet. 5 words has turned into over 100 and you keep adding more each day, talking incessantly from morning until night, causing us to wonder why we wanted you to talk in the first place! My two favorite exchanges lately are "I poop. Mama poop? Dada poop? Scup poop?" and "Lela cute. Baby cute. Mama.... cute." Last night you stunned your father and I when you said "Chopstick?" asking if you could have a set as well while we ate our stir-fry with them. Seriously? When did you learn that word? I think everything has been up there for awhile, and now you have discovered the tools in which to unlock the torrent of words stored in your brain.

Your ability to accessorize makes us laugh to no end... hats, tutus.. .and then sometimes your refusal to wear anything at all. I guess you are still allowed at this age to go streaking across the front lawn. You also are quite addicted to soft friends - whether it's your baby, which now is a usual part of your day (in the swing, at the dinner table, in the stroller), the ever-present "Pup," or the assorted monkey friends that your great aunt and uncle have given you. I have to take out at least 3-4 friends out of your crib at night when you go to sleep just so you have room yourself.

You love being outside, so much so in fact that you're ready to go out there with nothing but at diaper at 7am. You are fascinated with water, still, as always, and I think I'm just going to have to be okay with the fact that about every pair of your pants are stained with our deep rich Santa Barbara mud. You love visiting our neighborhood horses, chickens and goats, and the tide pools at the beach fascinate you for hours, much to the chagrin of your dog who only wants to run and chase tennis balls.

I won't say that every day with you right now is blissful - you are certainly pushing boundaries, say the word "NO!" quite emphatically, and melt into a puddle of tears and kicking if you don't like what we have in store for you. Luckily, you are also easily distracted and I've gotten pretty good at figuring out how to snap you out of these fits. I appreciate your fearlessness and independence, but it doesn't mean that some days, it's not a struggle. I have also learned let go a little and realize that I can just have you do what I want when I want it, and likewise, sometimes you  just have to be strapped in your car seat, taken away from the temptation of eating Scupper's dog food, and taken out of the swing after endless pushing.

That being said, you make your daddy and I laugh out loud at your spirit, your laughter, and the joy in which you experience the world.

Happy birthday little girl. May our memories of you being two live on always in our heart.

Accessories...

Does a new found love of accessories solidify the fact that your child is a girl? Or (gasp) is it because her parents are in theater? You be the judge...

 "genie" pants from thailand and a scarf from vietnam - compliments of uncle Mike

 my friend Ali picked up a few skirts at the thrift store after Halloween this year... she said Stella needed a dress up box. How right she was...

as my mom said of this picture, "nothing like going topless in a tutu at 7:30am" yep. wish we all could be so free, eh?

Of Aging Hippies and Drool Bubbles

Two funny Stella stories for the week:

Last week was "spring break" at Stella's preschool, which for us, since we do not have any other school-aged children, means a week home with Mommy all the time where Mommy desperately hopes that she won't go insane without a break from toddler and dog from 8:30am to 7pm at night. (I can happily say that we actually had a fabulous week, which either means two things: I have finally begun to appreciate and relish in being a stay at home mom OR I am starting to go steadily insane.)

Either way, I decided to schedule a few outing for the week, since Stella gets so much great art/music/dance at her school during the week. On Wednesday, our local library noted they were having a "dance troupe" do a free performance for kids. Great! We're there. We show up to a room filled with preschoolers, moms, and this WACKY lady wearing an old black leotard and leggings, covered with a homemade skirt out of interlocking scarves. Oh yes. Behind her are 5 kids, aged 3ish - 10, girls wearing leotards and the same type of scarf/skirt, boys wearing flowing scarf shirts. She puts in a CASSETTE TAPE and introduces herself as Arlene... but not just, "Hi, I'm Arlene," but rather, "Hi, I'm Arlene" to movement. Big, expressive, gestures with lots of arms and legs jutting out... very modern-dancey, and totally reminding me of my crazy movement training back in my undergrad theater training. She lets us know that she runs a dance school that encourages movement-based expression, not strict technique, and that the children and her are going to show us a few things... I'm totally getting this - and sadly, some of the other parents are looking at her like she has 3 heads.

She puts on another CASSETTE TAPE and they do the "color dance" - where their bodies evoke the color that she yells out.... then the lollipop dance... and the roar like a lion dance... I'm just giggling to myself, noticing that the kids up there are loving it, and also giggling at the conservative parents that thought they were being treated to some ballet thing. Stella, who's now not seated next to me on the carpet square, but has taken off her shoes (like the dancers) and is FOLLOWING EVERY MOVEMENT along with the dancers. She's reaching to the sky, making circles with her arms, balancing on one leg while holding my shoulder, etc. She's totally into this.

Arlene asks for children to come up and  - no joke - do a scarf dance to Puff the Magic Dragon. Stella looks at me, and I'm like, go for it girlie. She goes up to Arlene to get a scarf too, and Arlene looks at her and says, "Oh, I think you're too young" and Stella's face falls. She notices it and quickly counters, "Ok, you can have a scarf, but just don't put it in your mouth." Stella looks at her like, basically, saying, Um, I don't do that anymore, and begins to try to mimic all the movements of the Puff the Magic Scarf dance. Now don't get me wrong, she's about 3-4 moves behind, but she's having a blast. Yeah, Arlene's dance school seems a little low-rent, but I'm  all for no tutus and some "creative movement expression."

As Stella dances away, I feel a little tap on my shoulder, and a woman behind me whispers, "Lady, watching your daughter is making this whole thing worth it." And, scene.

 (Stella also isn't into wearing much on her body these days. We're lucky when we get shirts AND pants on her at the same time. She does, however, enjoy accessorizing.)

*********************
Stella also has been obsessed with bubbles. After our amazing visit from Auntie Lee-Lee and Gruncle (my aunt Liza and Uncle Chuck... gruncle, you say? great-uncle ;) where they gave her some bubbles to play with, Stella has been obsessed with finding bubbles anywhere. You know, in the puddles in the park, in her milk glass, in the bath tub... Yesterday, at this amazing dog park/open-space preserve overlooking the ocean, Stella was climbing on some logs while Scupper played with another dog. I spoke with the owner a moment about what mix of breeds their dogs were, and Stella came over, looking for puppy licks and a pet. The older dog of the two was hanging out in the sun, and Stella walked over, pointed out the large bubble of spit that had formed at the dog's mouth. "Bubble!" she yelled. "Yes, Stella, that's a bubble of drool." And just with that, she walked calmly over to the dog and popped the bubble. Drool exploded all over her hand. She looked at it, wiped it off on her pants, and walked down the trail.

(Stella also is obsessed with Steve's bike and accompanying paraphernalia. I am hoping that the vintage tricycle that he is refinishing is done in time for her upcoming birthday...)

Green...

I have thought a lot about sharing my thoughts about this - but figured hey, I guess those of you that still read the blog may understand that it's typical Aimee - honest and as usual, maybe a bit too blunt. But it has been something I've been pondering over the last few months.

You see, I'm think I'm jealous of people who don't have kids. Not jealous all the time, mind you, but a wee bit jealous. I think these feelings have started after observing our neighbors. We live on a large property where we have the house in the front, and our neighbors live in the converted stable house in back. Mind you, because the land parcels are big out here in "rural" Santa Barbara, I think their house is farther away than any of our neighbors back in San Diego, including the ones who lived across the street. For the first few months here, we kept apologizing about Scupper barking at them each time they went to their car in our shared driveway or said hi when we were swinging Stella on the swings. I think we were both trying to respect each other's privacy. However, after Christmas, I finally decided that we needed to have them over for dinner, or hell, at least lunch, and have tried to make more of an effort to be neighborly. They are our age, and until recently, the woman worked from home. So we gingerly struck up a relationship, and now we've started running together 2-3 mornings a week, and share recipes, leftovers, and gardening tips. Her husband is a lot like Steve, in the fact that he's a bit quiet around other people, and does his own thing. But my growing relationship with D. has been nice - like me, she's the more outgoing of the couple, and is into thrift stores, finding good deals, shopping the bargain bread rack at the grocery store, etc.

However, I have found myself, as of late, watching her come and go, and the freedom associated with that, with a bit of jealously. She comes home from work and gardens in the yard until the sun sets. Her and her husband hop in the car some nights at 9pm, presumably to meet friends, catch a late bite to eat, even play racquetball, she told me. Maybe it's because we don't indulge in babysitting often or the fact that we have no family here to which we could share Stella with for a few hours to run out by ourselves, but I  miss the freedom that comes with not having children or pets.

And yet, as I snuggled my daughter against my chest last night, breathing the lovely scent of fresh washed hair, listing to her gentle breathing, I couldn't imagine how my life would be without her. I had such joy watching her play in rain on Sunday... watching her send air kisses to the neighborhood horses on our walk yesterday, marveling at the utter happiness on her face to see the nearby farm's pig and goat... taking pride at the fact that she ate almost all her quinoa and broccoli stir fry last night with a fork (and tried a bit with chopsticks!) Experiencing the world anew through her nascent eyes has brought such happiness to me that I'm not sure why at times, I stare wistfully out the window wondering what it might be like if we had never decided to have kids.

As with everything, I'm sure that this is "just a phase..." That the exhaustion of parenthood ebbs and flows. That the need for "Mama" almost 24/7 will disappear and I will feel a loss. I think these honest feelings about motherhood could be why I don't seem to meet people on the playgrounds... where I see a mother with 3 kids under 5 and say, wow, how do you do it? she smiles sweetly back, why, it's a joy, or it's not hard... I wonder if she's really telling the truth, or if she's figured something out that I don't know.

On happier note, Stella is talking up a storm - and sometimes we understand her and sometimes we don't, but the words are coming much better than a month ago. Open is still "be-pen," moon is still "loon," and home is still "moam" for reasons we aren't sure, but damn if she can't say "cream cheese." At least her priorities are in the right place. ;)

Brown can do it...

Or something like that. I can't remember what the UPS slogan is because we don't own a TV, and they don't air ads during Hulu watchings of Glee. That's not the story though... this is about our dog.

Scupper, for those of you unacquainted -- although I guess that's stupid because most of you HAVE met Scupper at one point or another -- is a barker. We have no idea what part of him is that (maybe terrier?) but he's a barker. At everything. At us when we come home (bark bark! they are home! i love my family!), at anyone that comes to the door (bark bark! who are you? what are you doing on my porch?), to anyone walking by the house (bark bark! who are you? what are you doing on my street where i can see you?), to weird people on the beach (bark bark! you have a cane! i'm confused!), to his own butt (bark bark! i have a piece of grass stuck in my butt!) Needless to say, this is gets old. It's been old. In fact, it's so old, it's ancient. But we put up with it because he's a loving dog. It just annoys the heck out of us.

In his normal barking habits, he's taken to barking at the mail lady if he's out lounging in the yard and of course, the UPS man. We get diapers delivered from Amazon (b/c there is no Target in SB, kids) and the UPS faithfully brings them every 8 weeks when Stella is just about out. He learned very quickly we have a dog who is usually lounging outside in the mornings and he gives Scupper the largest Milkbones I have ever seen, drops off the box, and heads back out to the truck before Scup can bark too much or jump on him with dog licks. Lately, Scupper has been barking when he drives by, so last week, I saw him stop, deliver a package to the next door neighbor, heave a Milkbone over the fence, and hop in his truck.

Today - he drove by, Scupper barked, he slowed down ever so slightly, threw a Milkbone out the UPS truck door, and kept on driving.

I have got to get his name and send him a thank you. Above and beyond the call of duty, eh?

Scupper is also addicted to playing soccer. But that's a story for another time. And best be sure, it involves barking. (bark bark! do you see that ball? yes, that ball? Ball! Kick it! now! To me! bark bark!)

On her own terms...

Stella has been "diagnosed" with an Expressive Language delay. We are into week 2 of speech therapy - and luckily, it is all being arranged and covered by a state agency located here in SB. It seems that she was above her age range in the other development tests - motor skills, cognition - and even "receptive language" - i.e. she understands just about everything. She just doesn't/can't put it into words. However, since her first evaluation, she's definitely been getting better. This past week, she finally began to say "Mama" with the intent of calling or naming me... whereas before it was merely a moniker without a home. I think it's pretty damn cool. (I'm sure this will wear off soon after the ump-teenth "Mama" when she's in need of something).  Yesterday, during her session, she refused to say "moo" or "cow" and instead began hiding under a blanket and playing peek-a-boo. I don't envy our therapist. She kept trying to elicit responses from Stella for various objects to no avail. Stella rolled around in my lap and ignored her. When the therapist assume Stella's attention was just gone for the day, Stella turned to my shirt - and pointed to the various colored origami shapes and started saying "Lellow." "Bue." "Pink." "Geen." The therapist looked at me astonished (and frankly, I was too because she was 1) talking understandably and 2) getting the colors right.) She then suggested that Stella will have to come to speech therapy on her "own terms" and we'll just have to keep inventing new ways of making it fun for her. Otherwise, she just decides that it's not worth it, and won't talk. Ah, our little independent girl.

She also thinks that hot pads make awesome slippers. Go figure.