E & M are both marvels. Ellie does not know the word for multiplication, but she has become curious about it. Breaking the silence in the car, she asks, are two sevens 14, and then a few minutes later, are 4 sevens 28? Her social emotional development is also underway, in fits and starts. She shrieked loudly at me this morning while I was speaking to the parents of a school friend at soccer practice, saying, "you're not allowed to talk to anybody but me!" I usually have no idea how to respond to these bald admissions. I might stammer, "I like talking to so-and-so," and then say more quietly, "One minute..." Excellent, podcast-worthy parenting skills. If and when I return to my parenting fails, it make take me 15 minutes to puzzle out what I ought to have said but no matter, I never seem to remember what I had arrived at the next time something similar happens.
At bedtime tonight, she raised the issue again. She told me she had felt embarrassed when I talked to the other children and parents, and I asked her to tell me more and she stood over me (I was lying in her bed) and said, "I have to stand for this feeling." (OK.) Then she clarified quietly, "I think maybe jealous." So we talked about that. We clarified that she is my best girl. ("Not Zoe," Ellie crowed, and then looked around for the dog, hoping she had heard.) And that her classmates, though they are lovely, are not my best girls. And that I do not and could not love anyone more than I love her and Myles. I deserve to be deposed by my child; I subjected my own mother to the same. I should know there are no words that will soothe this for more than a few minutes a time. But I am happy to give her the words and hope that time will knit them into her heart--you are loved, loved, loved, always, completely, no matter what. I give a lot of hugs and kisses; this is why she nicknamed me, "sloppy mama," which seems ironic for a lifelong teetotaler, but there it is.
So that is what I try my hardest to give her. The list of what I do not give her -- I do not give her enough time on weeknights, when work is pressing into my evenings. I sometimes run low on patience and ask her to just please stop doing that. I have not yet signed her up for Spanish lessons even though she wanted them. (She has an app.)
Ellie is more and more Ellie all the time. She is sharp, observant, and curious. She decided on her own that she wanted to learn Spanish and the words sink into her mind so easily. She still delights in any art project and produces beautiful, colorful creations. She definitely has the the capacity to be theatrical. She was demonstrating the mindful breathing techniques she learned in school this afternoon and it resembled a modern dance performance. She still feels reticent in social situations at times and she seems to gravitate towards other kids who have social differences---another child who is shy or a child who has especially strong feelings. Her likes continue to include Peppa Pig--she calls both me and Peppa her "cutie, cutie, cutie"--and cats, particularly orange cats. She likes her toast with peanut butter but frequently no jelly. Ice cream remains her favored treat. Green monster pizza is her favorite meal. I could write forever about by sweet, loving, thoughtful, sensitive, expressive, smart girl. I told her today she was one of my favorite friends, and it is absolutely true.
I frequently address Myles by his first and middle names -- Myles Kieran!! -- and this is both because it turns out I really love his names and because Myles has a penchant for mischief. In the space of twenty minutes, he may crack a dozen eggs, remove his pullup and pee in a lush carpet, and then slink off to a shockingly well selected hiding spot to chew on a box of matches. Nitin observed that Ellie's misbehaviors have always been largely performative--she carries them out loudly, in plain sight, in the hopes of capturing your attention. Myles is the opposite. He is better at hide and seek than most adults and he rarely does you the courtesy of telling you he is hiding. He sits so perfectly still, not responding once while you frantically call him until you find him with a devilish grin and with his hands over his eyes. It is utterly charming though. He is such a loving and delightful little imp. You can hardly hold anything against him.
A lot of stereotypical boy interests. Wild for firetrucks and really anything with wheels. Can identify construction vehicles better than I can, but why?? "Myles, look at that big...truck thing..." I told him today. "A digger," he casually corrects me. I google imaged searched and he was correct. All of his favorite toys seem to have wheels, except for his beloved elephant. He is tremendously affectionate and I am determined to protect his huge, soft heart. With the caveat that you should never compare your children, blah blah blah, I am shocked by how naturally compassionate he is. He strokes Ellie's hair if she cries, "It's OK Ellie, it's OK." (She screams at him that she needs space and then I splice together praise about his compassion and my little stump speech about consent and bodily autonomy in a very awkward mashup.) When I lie on his bed at bedtime, if my eyes close, he gently tucks his blanket around me and wraps me in a big hug. I hope he is always so loving. He is also openhearted with new people, happy to befriend new children on the playground or sing a lullaby video for a new baby.
I am so fiercely proud of both of these sweet, sweet humans. They are such good people. I can feel their kindness, their humor, their intelligence, and I am so grateful to be their mom. Yes, is is tiring to parent two small people. But I adore them so much. They are the part of my life I always feel sure of. I am tired, so I will stop here, except for a menagerie of recent quotes. I will try to write more soon.
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Ellie, speaking to Nitin: ""look at that picture of your mom. She looks very i-told-you-a-tive."
Ellie, in a moment of surprise: "Gosh-ious gracious!"
Ellie, audibly whispering to Nitin: "Daddy, you know that I already took a shower, we’re just playing a trick on mommy."
Ellie, with a reasonable request: "Can you make Myles put on a diaper because I don’t want to see his penis."
Myles, holding a book at bedtime with Mama: "I am reading a book. Once upon a time..."
Ellie, after she fell, and Myles tried to console her: "Myles, stop. Boy touches will only make me sadder."
Myles, on a hike with Nitin, looks around the woods: “Something scary."
Nitin: “It’s okay little guy, you’re safe.”
“THANK YOU! You keep me safe.” (Side note: Myles is very enthusiastic about his thank yous. The emphasis is on the thank -- THANK you!)
A little while later, points at rocks: “Look! It’s bear poop!”
A message from one of Ellie's teachers, Kathy: "Dear Bridget, Thank you so much for the lovely bag covered with birds! It's beautiful! Ellie holds a special place in my heart. She is kind to the utmost degree. A value I prize dearly. Her love of color, rainbows, everything pink, all sorts of drawing with any medium on hand, Peppa Pig, and her total immersion in nature's gifts be it sand, mullberries, or coral trumpet flowers always impressed me. She has been a gift to teach, grow, and learn from this past year! Love, Kathy"
Ellie, who is not wrong to worry - "What happens when you’re riding a bike on your penis I wonder?"
Ellie, in one of her daily gratitude lists on our drives home from preschool:"I’m grateful that everybody gets some love." We hope so, kiddo. Other frequent items include Pepparious Peppa Pig, assorted family members, whatever flowers she can see, and whenever it is approaching the end of the week. :)
