To Stella, 3.11 (eeeek almost four)
I just cannot believe that this is the last monthly letter I will write to you as a three year old. Yesterday we were watching Kiki's Delivery Service and Kiki's dad said something about her growing up so fast and I told you that you were too. You said, "Well, I am almost four. I am growing up but I will always be your little girl." One night recently you looked at me with very sad eyes. I asked you what was wrong and you said, "I don't want to live away from you and Daddy even when I'm a big kid." Of course I reassured you that you would not have to and you asked, "Even when I'm eleven?" "Even when you are eleven," I answered. You still looked unconvinced and concerned and finally said, "But you don't still live with Grandma Helaine and Grandpa Paul." I explained that you could live with Dad and me for as long as you wanted. At the moment, of course, you would choose to stay with us forever but I know that will change all too soon (as it should) and I am not looking forward to the day you move out. You are such fun to live with! You also told me not to long ago that you did not want to participate in any after school activities next year unless I can be there because, with school, it is too many things without Mommy. Even as I try to help you feel secure in your ever-increasing independence, I see the days ahead when you want to have as little as possible to do with me. I'm just trying to savor this special time when you adore me, give me tons of hugs and kisses, plead with me not to go when I have to leave you and love me more than anything. I feel the same way about you.
We spent much of the past month in Poughkeepsie because I was directing a play at New York Stage and Film. Before we got there I worried like crazy about how the housing would be for you, which camp to send you to and whether you would like it, what you and Ranny would do when you weren't at camp, etc. etc. I did an awful lot of fretting. And shopping. I bought new toys, flower and Hello Kitty wall appliques to brighten up our on campus apartment, all sorts of things I thought would help make you comfortable and happy. I obsessed endlessly about whether to send you to a supposedly amazing arts camp which you were a little young for or to the camp at the local JCC. Given your history of trouble with separation I agonized over which place would have a greater chance of success. I couldn't bear the thought of you and Ranny just walking around the Vassar campus all day so I was determined to make camp work but I was terrified that it would not. And that I wouldn't have Daddy around to support me if the separation was really difficult. Much of the worry was not necessary because you had such a great, fun attitude from the very start. You were excited to live in a house with stairs, happy to be in the country where it was quiet, excited to see bunnies and deer which were in abundance and extremely curious about your new environment. Daddy spent the first four days with us and you guys had a great time going to the playground, visiting the NYS&F offices and discovering the Vassar campus. You were in this really challenging phase of not listening and being a little rude to people sometimes which we didn't like at all so we got very very strict with you. We told you that if you didn't listen, you would not be allowed to ride your bike all day. And if you didn't listen two times, we would not read any books before bed. Your bike and books -- two precious things you didn't want to lose! We only had to take the bike away once and towards the end of that day, when you really wanted to ride you told daddy, "That was a bad idea! You should have just taken my toys away!" It really worked and your behavior changed a lot. And then we had such a fun time. You loved all the actors and the writer I was working with and seemed to really look forward to picking me up from rehearsal every day. It was so nice when the stage manager opened the door to the rehearsal room at the end of the day and you would run at full speed into my arms. Truth be told I'm not sure which you were more excited about -- seeing me or getting your daily ricola cough drop but it really doesn't matter. No matter how great rehearsal was, seeing you at the end of it was the highlight of the day.
Camp was a pretty good success too. The first week went very well. You had a hard time letting me go the first day but then you became friends with a girl named Hannah and, for the rest of the week, as long as she was there, you were fine to have me go. You liked the counselors, Miss Jackie and Miss Ashley and were very excited to play in the garden. (Strangely, the second week of camp was more difficult for you but I think that was because I was in tech and working longer days so you were seeing a bit less of me the rest of the day.) You did some great art projects and seemed to have a good time. We had a lot of picnic dinners -- eating outside on the grass outside our apartment. The first few days, an Australian family lived next door to us (the mom was a playwright at NYS&F) and they had a five year old daughter named Lucy. You had a lot of fun playing with her. I think the only conflict you guys had was when she beat you in a foot race in which she was wearing flip flops and you were wearing sneakers. You just couldn't believe that someone in bad running footwear could be faster than you. It was no consolation that she was older. After she and her family left, the rest of the time we were in Poughkeepsie, whenever you saw a plane in the sky you said, "Maybe Lucy is on that plane." You really wanted us to have new next door neighbors but no one moved into Lucy's apartment. We did have some other neighbors and whenever you saw anyone outside, you would run to the door and go outside to meet and talk to them. You became unbelievably outgoing. In fact, I don't think you were pretend shy once in Poughkeepsie. It was a pretty drastic turnaround.
You and I often played "Next Door Neighbor" in which we would pretend to be neighbors who met coincidentally on the street and then excitedly greeted each other and went off together to a meeting or to a show or to rehearsal. We also played a lot of babies. Frequently I was the baby and you were the mommy. This was a lot of fun except whenever you wanted me to crawl. Um, sorry, I am seven months pregnant. I don't think so.
Perhaps some of your passion about playing babies stems from the fact that we have a real baby on the way. You could not be more excited about it. You are so excited, in fact, that Dad and I thought you would love to accompany me to a sonogram so that you could see your sister. Ooops. About, oh, six seconds in to the sonogram you declared it boring and later told Grandma Helaine, disappointedly, that it was black and white. But whenever anyone congratulates me you say, "We're having a baby." And you happily talk about your sister all the time, hug and kiss my belly and tell us your plans to share with the baby and hold her if she is crying and feed her, etc. You want to name her Aliza and would settle for Eliza but you have been told that Daddy doesn't like these names so you know it isn't happening. You have, however, named pretty much all of your babies Aliza instead. Our real baby is still without a moniker.
On July 4, there was a full company picnic and we all went. You had such a good time talking to people, playing with bubbles, lawn bowling, getting a golf cart ride and running in the grass with Daddy. In the midst of running with Daddy, however, you were stung by a bee between your toes. You started shrieking, "Mama! Help me!" which was so heart breaking since there was nothing I could do to take away the pain. Someone told us to put mud on it so Daddy frantically tried to dig up grass and dirt but it didn't help and, in fact, only made you miserable. Later you asked me what it was and, not wanting you to have a lifetime fear of bees I answered, "I don't know. I think it was a thorny flower." You answered, "I think it was a bug because I pulled it out from between my toes." So I had to be honest and, remarkably, it hasn't made you frightened of those yellow and black bugs anyway. And now we know that you aren't allergic to bee stings which is good to know. (In fact, it was the only question they asked me about you the first day of camp!)
We came home on my day's off and had great NYC fun. We went to the carousel in Central Park and you rode on a horse instead of the couch for the first time. You wouldn't go without me and you wanted a lot of rides on different horses -- some that went up and down, some that didn't -- so we spent a bloody fortune there but it was totally worth it to see that exhilirating smile on your face as you went around and around. We also went to the Empire State Building, a place you have been eager to visit. You really wanted me to take you to The Statue of Liverty (that's what you call it -- you also call our lobby the "lovvy". I don't have the heart to correct you because it is so cute! You also say "feedbreasting" instead of "breastfeeding" and we have all pretty much adopted this term in the hopes that your cuteness lasts as long as possible) but I had an appointment at the doctor that didn't leave enough time for that expedition.
Spending this month with you was such fun. I was definitely a bit aware of this summer as my last hurrah with you as my only daughter. I am so excited to have another little girl and I know that we are all going to have so much fun together -- that it will end up being better than ever -- but a part of me will miss giving all of myself to you. So having you with me in Poughkeepsie was such fun. I was really aware when we were there that it was a time I would look back on with great fondness, that it would be a happy memory in my time as a mother. I was very glad to be working -- especially on a play I liked so much with a lovely cast -- and knew that it would be my last job for a couple months since the baby is coming in September. But being there with you really made it special. We had such a good time together everyday and I never felt too lonely which out of town work can sometimes be. We skyped with Daddy a lot, Grandma and Grandpa came to visit us and everyone loved having you around --- me especially. You are such a fun companion. I feel very lucky to have you around. I've just got this great, funny, adorable little friend/daughter with me all the time.
I hope you are as much fun as a four year old as you have been as a three year old and thanks for giving me the privilege of being your mom.
I love you.
Love,
Mommy
We spent much of the past month in Poughkeepsie because I was directing a play at New York Stage and Film. Before we got there I worried like crazy about how the housing would be for you, which camp to send you to and whether you would like it, what you and Ranny would do when you weren't at camp, etc. etc. I did an awful lot of fretting. And shopping. I bought new toys, flower and Hello Kitty wall appliques to brighten up our on campus apartment, all sorts of things I thought would help make you comfortable and happy. I obsessed endlessly about whether to send you to a supposedly amazing arts camp which you were a little young for or to the camp at the local JCC. Given your history of trouble with separation I agonized over which place would have a greater chance of success. I couldn't bear the thought of you and Ranny just walking around the Vassar campus all day so I was determined to make camp work but I was terrified that it would not. And that I wouldn't have Daddy around to support me if the separation was really difficult. Much of the worry was not necessary because you had such a great, fun attitude from the very start. You were excited to live in a house with stairs, happy to be in the country where it was quiet, excited to see bunnies and deer which were in abundance and extremely curious about your new environment. Daddy spent the first four days with us and you guys had a great time going to the playground, visiting the NYS&F offices and discovering the Vassar campus. You were in this really challenging phase of not listening and being a little rude to people sometimes which we didn't like at all so we got very very strict with you. We told you that if you didn't listen, you would not be allowed to ride your bike all day. And if you didn't listen two times, we would not read any books before bed. Your bike and books -- two precious things you didn't want to lose! We only had to take the bike away once and towards the end of that day, when you really wanted to ride you told daddy, "That was a bad idea! You should have just taken my toys away!" It really worked and your behavior changed a lot. And then we had such a fun time. You loved all the actors and the writer I was working with and seemed to really look forward to picking me up from rehearsal every day. It was so nice when the stage manager opened the door to the rehearsal room at the end of the day and you would run at full speed into my arms. Truth be told I'm not sure which you were more excited about -- seeing me or getting your daily ricola cough drop but it really doesn't matter. No matter how great rehearsal was, seeing you at the end of it was the highlight of the day.
Camp was a pretty good success too. The first week went very well. You had a hard time letting me go the first day but then you became friends with a girl named Hannah and, for the rest of the week, as long as she was there, you were fine to have me go. You liked the counselors, Miss Jackie and Miss Ashley and were very excited to play in the garden. (Strangely, the second week of camp was more difficult for you but I think that was because I was in tech and working longer days so you were seeing a bit less of me the rest of the day.) You did some great art projects and seemed to have a good time. We had a lot of picnic dinners -- eating outside on the grass outside our apartment. The first few days, an Australian family lived next door to us (the mom was a playwright at NYS&F) and they had a five year old daughter named Lucy. You had a lot of fun playing with her. I think the only conflict you guys had was when she beat you in a foot race in which she was wearing flip flops and you were wearing sneakers. You just couldn't believe that someone in bad running footwear could be faster than you. It was no consolation that she was older. After she and her family left, the rest of the time we were in Poughkeepsie, whenever you saw a plane in the sky you said, "Maybe Lucy is on that plane." You really wanted us to have new next door neighbors but no one moved into Lucy's apartment. We did have some other neighbors and whenever you saw anyone outside, you would run to the door and go outside to meet and talk to them. You became unbelievably outgoing. In fact, I don't think you were pretend shy once in Poughkeepsie. It was a pretty drastic turnaround.
You and I often played "Next Door Neighbor" in which we would pretend to be neighbors who met coincidentally on the street and then excitedly greeted each other and went off together to a meeting or to a show or to rehearsal. We also played a lot of babies. Frequently I was the baby and you were the mommy. This was a lot of fun except whenever you wanted me to crawl. Um, sorry, I am seven months pregnant. I don't think so.
Perhaps some of your passion about playing babies stems from the fact that we have a real baby on the way. You could not be more excited about it. You are so excited, in fact, that Dad and I thought you would love to accompany me to a sonogram so that you could see your sister. Ooops. About, oh, six seconds in to the sonogram you declared it boring and later told Grandma Helaine, disappointedly, that it was black and white. But whenever anyone congratulates me you say, "We're having a baby." And you happily talk about your sister all the time, hug and kiss my belly and tell us your plans to share with the baby and hold her if she is crying and feed her, etc. You want to name her Aliza and would settle for Eliza but you have been told that Daddy doesn't like these names so you know it isn't happening. You have, however, named pretty much all of your babies Aliza instead. Our real baby is still without a moniker.
On July 4, there was a full company picnic and we all went. You had such a good time talking to people, playing with bubbles, lawn bowling, getting a golf cart ride and running in the grass with Daddy. In the midst of running with Daddy, however, you were stung by a bee between your toes. You started shrieking, "Mama! Help me!" which was so heart breaking since there was nothing I could do to take away the pain. Someone told us to put mud on it so Daddy frantically tried to dig up grass and dirt but it didn't help and, in fact, only made you miserable. Later you asked me what it was and, not wanting you to have a lifetime fear of bees I answered, "I don't know. I think it was a thorny flower." You answered, "I think it was a bug because I pulled it out from between my toes." So I had to be honest and, remarkably, it hasn't made you frightened of those yellow and black bugs anyway. And now we know that you aren't allergic to bee stings which is good to know. (In fact, it was the only question they asked me about you the first day of camp!)
We came home on my day's off and had great NYC fun. We went to the carousel in Central Park and you rode on a horse instead of the couch for the first time. You wouldn't go without me and you wanted a lot of rides on different horses -- some that went up and down, some that didn't -- so we spent a bloody fortune there but it was totally worth it to see that exhilirating smile on your face as you went around and around. We also went to the Empire State Building, a place you have been eager to visit. You really wanted me to take you to The Statue of Liverty (that's what you call it -- you also call our lobby the "lovvy". I don't have the heart to correct you because it is so cute! You also say "feedbreasting" instead of "breastfeeding" and we have all pretty much adopted this term in the hopes that your cuteness lasts as long as possible) but I had an appointment at the doctor that didn't leave enough time for that expedition.
Spending this month with you was such fun. I was definitely a bit aware of this summer as my last hurrah with you as my only daughter. I am so excited to have another little girl and I know that we are all going to have so much fun together -- that it will end up being better than ever -- but a part of me will miss giving all of myself to you. So having you with me in Poughkeepsie was such fun. I was really aware when we were there that it was a time I would look back on with great fondness, that it would be a happy memory in my time as a mother. I was very glad to be working -- especially on a play I liked so much with a lovely cast -- and knew that it would be my last job for a couple months since the baby is coming in September. But being there with you really made it special. We had such a good time together everyday and I never felt too lonely which out of town work can sometimes be. We skyped with Daddy a lot, Grandma and Grandpa came to visit us and everyone loved having you around --- me especially. You are such a fun companion. I feel very lucky to have you around. I've just got this great, funny, adorable little friend/daughter with me all the time.
I hope you are as much fun as a four year old as you have been as a three year old and thanks for giving me the privilege of being your mom.
I love you.
Love,
Mommy
posted by Carolyn at 8/03/2009 08:33:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home