That's What It's All About!

You put your foot in,

You put your foot out,

You put your foot in,

And you shake it all about.

You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around,

That's what it's all about!

Fin.

Today, Geneva and Goya decided to stage a performance of The Hokey Pokey on the patio of our chicken coop. Remarkably, the performance lasted for several minutes without anyone falling off of the small platform. Even more remarkable was the fact that the girls sang the words and executed the dance moves all by themselves. I almost cried. Seriously. Was it the toddler choreography? I think it was probably the fact that these girls were sharing something entirely theirs, and we as parents were simply being allowed a glimpse. I was having flash-forwards of homemade costumes, handwritten scripts and of course the inevitable disputes regarding casting decisions. You know, the things I did when I was a kid.

In the meantime, The Hokey Pokey is perfect. And after all, what is a friend if not someone to whom you can say "Ah, so we're going to be silly? And in this specific way? Excellent! Count me in." My lucky, lucky daughter has just such a friend already.

And that's what it's all about!

Big

It's official: I'm Big. A startling number of my maternity clothes are now too small (honestly, who were they designed to fit?) and I find myself not only unwilling but physically unable to do some of the bendier, twistier tasks that motherhood asks of me. I've started favoring slip-on shoes. I can no longer classify my main nighttime activity as sleeping, but rather as trying to get comfortable.

Buuuuuut.....

I am grateful! My baby is wiggly-- shockingly, even painfully wiggly-- and I never find myself worrying if she's still healthy and safe, since I know she'll bludgeon me in the ribs again in five minutes to let me know all is well. I don't know if I'll ever get to carry another little one, and that knowledge is helping me to keep all of the discomfort in perspective and just enjoy my "alone time" with the fetus, relishing each hiccup and knowing that right now I know her better than anyone else possibly could. And finally, finally, I feel like I no longer have to apologize to the world for my exhaustion and generally scatterbrained demeanor. My body speaks for itself. It used to be that I couldn't enter the grocery store without some bossy old lady (me in forty years?) coming up and telling me that either Maya or Geneva needed a nose wipe or had dropped a goldfish cracker or something. Nowadays, however, people just leave me the hell alone. No more questioning looks when I go strangely blank in the eyes, seeming not to notice that Geneva is shaking milk from her sippy cup into her shoe. I think everyone who sees me now knows exactly what is going on: I am trying, in that blank-eyed moment, not to pee my pants as a Braxton-Hicks contraction smashes the baby's head forcefully into my bladder. At least, anyone who has ever been pregnant knows. Honestly, it's a huge relief.

The Count

Or would that be The Countess?

Anyway, those of you on facebook may have seen this already, but it's a video of Geneva counting at the dinner table, as captured by Avery's cell phone. Sorry, we can't figure out how to get it to play right side up. You'll just have to lean.

Cameraless

About a month ago my camera battery decided it had had enough. We had been charging it with a knock-off brand charger-- gasp!-- ever since leaving the original Nikon charger in our honeymoon suite. Apparently five years of sub-optimal charging made our battery bitter, because it decided to give us the finger by expiring the day before our family left for a week-long trip to Tacoma followed by a photography class. And while I have really fantastic notes from that photography lecture, I have no photographs from our trip. In fact, I have no photographs for the month of April. To give you some perspective, my monthly photo folders usually contain between two hundred and three hundred files. Last July we happened to go on two camping trips and attended a birthday party, and that folder contains nine hundred files. It's wonderful and it's a pain, because while I end up with some really great pictures of some really special moments, I do tend to spend a lot of time with a camera jammed in front of my face. Then I creep down to the basement and sit hunched over the computer for hours, sorting and editing and usually getting so tired that I never actually post the fruits of my labor here, for the world to see. So for the last month I've been, in a sense, free. I have experienced every moment without the filter of a lens, and I haven't had to worry about adding to the immense backlog of pictures yet to be edited. I've been reminded again and again that if I want to capture a moment then I'd better just try really hard not to forget it. I wouldn't say it's been nice, but it's been... healthy.

Here are some things I've committed to memory rather than film, and a few things that would have been impossible to photograph anyway:

* During our trip to Tacoma, Geneva and I visited the Point Defiance Zoo and happened to stumble across six different animal feedings! It was amazing, and cemented both the shark and the walrus firmly in Geneva's top ten favorite animals. Even now, based solely on that trip, Geneva can (and often does) quickly name four different animals that eat fish. After all, she's seen it firsthand!

* One afternoon Geneva awoke from her nap asking for Maya, who was also just waking up. I took Geneva in to peek at Maya and they both beamed sleepily at each other. They then spent the next ten minutes rolling around on the bed, petting and cuddling one another with such fondness that I wonder if Geneva will think of the baby as being a different sort of relative than Maya, or if in her mind she already has a sister.

* My next door neighbor Cristina is within a week of her due date, and it has been such a blessing to have someone with whom to celebrate and commiserate the ups and downs of pregnancy. With both of my babies I have had at least one good friend who was pregnant at the same time as me, and I just wouldn't want to do it any other way (not that it's my choice). Seeing Cristina preparing for the birth of her new little girl is getting me even more excited to meet mine, and there's something about sharing that weird, alienesque third trimester experience with another person that makes it easier to laugh about. It has been wonderful... and all I'm missing is a picture of the two of us together in our gestational glory!

* Little G continues to be a fountain of words. I gave up many months ago on keeping a list of her vocabulary, and at any rate it changes so quickly that I would hardly know how to document what she's doing and saying these days. Some of her cute kid phrases are already obsolete (for instance, when someone sneezes she now says "bless you" instead of "mushrooms") and others are just appearing (when it's warm out she now asks for a "pocketsicle"). My favorite Geneva phrases are her (overly?) candid observations about the world. She once summarized the benefits of wipes over toilet paper as "moist butt." She declares, after tasting ANY food, whether that bite was sweet, sour, or nice. She started calling the neighbor cat's bottom his "button," and then announced one day "Sunny's button is warm." Shudder. She's very specific about body parts in general, making sure to tell us that she intends to play with a toy with her hands or eat a snack with her mouth. When she feels like joshing around with someone she'll say "oh, __________, go take a bath!" (sort of like "go fly a kite" I suppose). And the girl loves a good pun; she enjoys faking us out by saying the first part of a word, pausing dramatically, and then laying the rest of the word on us, as in "Mommy, I like pepper...... oni!" And yet, for all this linguistic prowess, I'm still the only one that can understand her half of the time. I chalk it up to language immersion, as my brain is constantly awash in her little voice. It does make me think of all the kids her age who are in day-care situations, where no one person is around all of the time to learn that "elpey" means "elephant." I wonder if those kids are saying a lot more actual words than anyone knows. I don't think those kids are necessarily suffering because people understand less of what they say, but I do feel grateful yet again that I can be home with Geneva and learn to speak her language as she learns to speak mine.

* Twice in the last few months we've been out to Harrah to visit Auntie Jen and the boys, and twice it has been knock-your-socks-off gorgeous outside. I'm thinking the next time I need some sun I'll just ask if Jen doesn't mind having us over and see if our luck holds! Regardless of the weather, those visits were fabulous and reminded me of how important it is, every so often, to just sit all day and do nothing in the company of a good friend. It has been a real treat to see how kind and patient Owen-- and the other older cousins, too-- are with Geneva. I think they're teaching her something very important about what it means to be in a position of responsibility, and if she learns anything from their examples she's going to be a really fantastic big sister.

* This year, for the first time, Geneva and Maya were able to grasp the concept of Easter egg hunting. Seeing them totter around Nana's yard and watching them light up and change trajectory every time they spied a new egg just about made me cry happy tears. I think it's because they're old enough now to participate in traditions, and Easter egg hunting just happened to be the first one that they "got." I love the idea of Geneva being involved in something that is community-wide and generations-deep; that's what it means to be a part of a culture, after all. Yesterday we hung May Day baskets on the doorknobs of our neighbors. I can only imagine how amazing this Christmas will be.



Okay world, I've learned my lesson. I'd like my camera back now please. In the meantime, here's a look back at March....

Geneva and Thomas

The moms and the kids on our way to the zoo!

"Owl Truck," as it came to be known. This vehicle is famous at our house.

Thomas, Avery and Geneva viewing the otters.

That afternoon we found Charlie Kitty stuffed in the back of the car. He had been missing for some time. It was a joyful reunion!

Geneva and Maya turn a large stomach into art.

Rocking out to Jesus Christ Superstar over lunch.

...still rocking out...

Okay, that's too much rocking out!

Play dough-- or, as Geneva calls it, roll it and pat it and mark it with a B and throw it in the oven for baby and me.

The sculptors.

Maya chose this accessory herself.

My little artist.

Sharing Cap'n Crunch at Franklin Park.

Peeking in.

They like each other.

Maya, in a thoughtful moment.

This was the day we discovered that the play structure had been torn down. Geneva improvised a slide using a hill, some leaves, and a lot of wiggling.

Maya Rose

Enjoying the textures.

Sharing with Mommy.

Yes, this conversation just took place...

Jamaica: I think Geneva's use of language is unusual for her age; she doesn't just name objects and items, she can describe them and tell their stories and how they relate to each other even from memory....

Geneva: PEE!!!!!!!

Geneva, tell me about your day.

"Maya up and down and ride the bike. A back up and down. Down, Maya bonk and down and head and down. Head Maya down. Mama turtles in water. Rock. Play out that. Home. Dog bark. I loves Dada, Maya, my Dada."





For anyone needing translation, Geneva, Maya and I spent the morning coloring and then took a bike trip to the Children's Museum. Maya took a swan dive into a chair and Geneva was extremely concerned. Maya recovered, but has an enormous purple bruise to show for it. We looked at the turtles (real) and the snakes (pretend), took turns behind the counter at the general store, then headed outside for a picnic lunch. It was a fabulous day.

Shouldn't all days end like this?

Poop! (There it is)

In the Zoglman household, we girls don't really venture out of the house until the afternoon. In fact, some of us don't even put pants on until lunchtime.

Here's why:

My big girl poops in the toilet every morning! I know, I know, it's in terrible taste to post bowel movement pictures on the internet, but I am so excited I could just-- well, you know. Geneva is, too. Here she's signing "toilet" with both hands.

And for anyone who still wasn't sure what was going on in that first picture, Geneva is delighted to clear up any misunderstandings.

There are some downsides to this process, of course, such as the fact that I spend most of every morning cleaning up the pee which my darling child is not yet able to control. There's also the fact that when we're out of the house and Geneva hears the call of nature she becomes very upset because she doesn't know where the bathroom is. And because I, in a stroke of non-genius, decided to provide incentive by reading Calvin and Hobbes to her whenever she sat on the toilet, she now yells "poop!" whenever she wants Mommy to drop what she's doing and sprint to her side in order to read comics. It gets really bad around the time I start making dinner.

Messes, freakouts and false alarms aside, I really am thrilled. I'm thrilled for Geneva, who is taking yet another monster step toward independence. And of course I'm thrilled for myself, a weary changer and scraper and washer of cloth diapers. Every dirty diaper I don't have to handle is cause for celebration. A Kodak moment, if you will. So yes, I'm posting pictures. I hope you'll all understand.

Something Fishy

If there should ever be doubt as to whether or not Geneva is truly my child, I will present the following anecdote as evidence:

While preparing dinner in the kitchen, I was met by a pair of big, longing eyes. The food I was handling was smoked salmon and, feeling generous, I peeled off a very large chunk and handed it to Geneva. I wasn't sure whether or not she would eat it or if she would even try it, but I should have known better. She cried "YEE-ahhh!" and shoved the whole thing into her mouth. Her lips could barely close. That was one happy girl.

Flashback...

... to October 2010! It was months ago, yes, and several major holidays have come and gone since then, but I can't help wanting to share those delightful memories with the world: Painstakingly sewing Geneva's witch hat by hand, only to find out I had accidentally made it much too small. Geneva's unadulterated joy at being allowed to run into other people's yards and look in their houses. Her misunderstanding of trick-or-treating as some kind of sharing exercise or hot-potato game. Hearing every visitor to our porch admire Avery's outstanding Darth Vader jack-o-lantern. And best of all, basking in the glow of some really wonderful events that had recently taken place: our fourth wedding anniversary, the eradication of Kristen's cancer, and the conception of our second child. October was very, very good to us. Even three months late, how could I pass it by?

Here's a little pumpkin nestled in our garden.

 Mom and Baby Halloween Party

Yep, it's a haunted gingerbread house. I couldn't wait until Christmas.

Halloween

Avery's "cheater" pumpkin

My goofy, freehand pumpkin

We left the candy basket out because we figured the pre-wrapped chocolate bars were safe. Note to self: toddler teeth can pierce plastic.

Geneva was delighted.

My Top Ten

The year 2010 has ended, and as I was pondering this I was seized by yet another ruminative mood. I sat with my notepad, staring out the window and wondering what I had to say about this year, this decade, this life. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to write, but what I ended up with was a kind of letter to myself ten years ago, or maybe a letter to anyone who is still entangled in adolescence as I was then. It's the top ten things life has taught me so far-- my top ten from 2010, to be corny. And yes, most of what I found I had to say is a little cheesy, but I didn't let that stop me. These are the things I have found to be undeniably true.

I hope it's not narcissistic of me to put this on my blog... or at least, that it's no more narcissistic than the average blog post. And who knows, maybe you are all feeling ruminative, too.



My Top Ten (in no particular order)

• Sometimes being right doesn't matter. Sometimes it doesn't give you the moral high ground. Sometimes it hurts others. Sometimes there is no right, but simply what works and what doesn't.

• Of all the dumb ways I've spent my time and energy, being jealous of others seems in retrospect to be the dumbest of all. It also seems cowardly: it was a way for me to as questions about the happiness of others instead of my own. 

• Possessions accumulate. Eventually an increasing number of possessions becomes a burden, a hassle. Things must be cleaned and stored and organized. Experiences, on the other hand, never pile up or collect dust. Doing is a much better investment than getting.

• Faith and doubt can, and perhaps even should, keep company. Questioning your beliefs-- by which I mean subjecting them to logical and moral scrutiny-- is one of the most responsible things you can do as a growing human being. When you have rigorously examined what it is you believe, why you believe it, what the implications are for how you conduct your life, and have integrated your doubts and misgivings, then your faith truly becomes your own. Until then it is simply borrowed from someone else.

• I find I am infinitely happier when I choose forgiveness. Do not forgive someone based on whether or not he or she deserves it, but based on whether or not you can offer it. Yes, some things cannot be forgiven, but the vast majority can, and you may not be able to tell the difference right away. Keep trying. It is a kindness you do for yourself.

• Relationships between people cannot be fully understood by an outside party, even a close one. This should be the enormous caveat to every judgment a person makes about the relationships of others. In some cases it ought to shut them up entirely.

• Forget about doing work that you think you should and instead just do whatever it is that makes you feel whole. An immigrant youth case worker is no more noble, no more admirable than a fashion designer if they both live generously and compassionately within their communities. Basically, do what you love and let being a good person flow from there.

• For a long time I had the concept of patience all wrong: it is not a character trait that some are born with and others are not, nor is it a byproduct of loving every second of your life no matter what. It is simply the skill of seeing the big picture when you are overwhelmed by the details, and it is a skill that must be continually practiced. Sometimes exercising patience is downright unpleasant. Fortunately, grudging patience still  counts, and fortunately it is always worth the effort.

• In the WWF smackdown between John Lennon's "All You Need is Love" and Aretha Franklin's "Respect," Aretha wins every time. Love without respect is a disaster.

• There are things for which our society leaves us ill-prepared: Letting go. Waiting indefinitely. Failing graciously. Saying nothing. Not knowing. Understanding when and how to do or accept these things is what I imagine wisdom will be like, should I ever acquire it.