50 Things I Love About Bee

These days I can't take my eyes off of Bee. She is changing so quickly! It's like I can see her growing, and I can't get enough. 

So to follow up on my recent post with 50 things I love about Teeny, I could not help but think about 50 things I love about Bee today:

50. How she says "Mama, I want to tell you something. I... I just love you." when she wants to hear her voice but doesn't know what else to say.

49. When one of us leaves and she asks the other if we think the other will be okay. "Daddy will be all by himself! Do you think he will be okay?"

48. Hearing her sing "I'm all about that bass" under her breath. "I'm bringing booty back!"

47. She was the happiest kid in the city on Halloween in an outfit she concocted from various items in her wardrobe. I asked her which costume of all the ones she'd seen that day she liked best, and she said "The one I wore!"

46. She snuggles with me every chance she can get.

45. She can order a "venti decaf Americano iced no room" for me without even blinking.

44. Her skin.

43. Those cheeks!

42. How much she loves her sister.

41. When she asks me if she's special too and I can list 100 ways she is special to me without even batting an eyelash.

40. Watching her body grown and change from a stocky baby into a tall and lanky girl.

39. The way she says "pig-a-tails."

38. She's vegan because she believes in it and not because I force her to be. She loves her adopted turkeys Anna and Elsa.

37. She genuinely does not understand why people she loves might not be vegan.

36. Her artistic inclination.

35. She is easy to get along with.

34. The way she speaks her mind - openly and directly and also innocently. She knows no other way.

33. Her taste in music.

32. Watching her sleep.

31. Her beautiful bright blue eyes.

30. How much she looks and acts like me.

29. How she also looks so much like my maternal biological family that I think of my birth mother and sister every time I look at her.

28. Doing her nails.

27. She loves to splash in puddles.

26. Baking with her.

25. How she comes into my bed at night to cuddle with me.

24. The little heart-people and heart-cats she draws.

23. How much she loves school.

22. She likes to listen to me read chapter books aloud.

21. She loves taking car rides.

20. Her incredible memory. The kid forgets nothing, ever.

19. How happy she is outdoors.

18. She is totally unselfconscious and loves to be naked.

17. Her attention span.

16. Brushing her hair.

15. How much she likes to help with everything.

14. She tries to speak and write in other languages like Spanish and Japanese.

13. When she is silly and giggly.

12. Overhearing her ask a friend of mine if a treat she wanted to share with her was vegan (it was).

11. The random things she says that give me glimpses into her hardworking little mind.

10. How easily she uses an iPad or iPhone or asks for something that's "on Netflix."

9. She says she will always love me, always be vegan and always want to live with me. I'll take the first two out of three. :)

8. She's a wonderful little host when she has other kids over.

7. She likes to Face Time with me when I travel so she can see me, where I am, what I'm doing and what's surrounding me. 

6. When she requests overnights at Nana's house.

5. Watching her decorate this year's Christmas tree with her daddy.

4. Giving her the space to live her own life, develop her own opinions, make her own friends and just have her own experiences, some of which she shares with me and some of which she doesn't.

3. She draws glasses on pictures of animals to be silly.

2. That time I caught her saying "What the fuck!" in the mirror while pretending to be a grown up. Ha!

1. What started out as a fantasy I had while growing up of having a daughter someday turned into the best idea that Johnny and ever I had, which became a bump with a name that I carried for 40 weeks and then grew into a baby who changed our lives forever and is now her own person, growing and changing and developing and becoming more independent every day. We picked her name when I was only 20 weeks pregnant. Today she loves her name and has her own identity with this name that we picked when she was still an idea. I love hearing her say and seeing her write her name. Every single time I do, it reminds me that she is my dream come true. 

50 things I Love About Teeny

Last week was the New York City marathon. We live right on the course towards the end, so every year we watch as much of it as we can. This year was the first year Teeny could actually watch with us and follow along. It was a really cold morning, so we bundled up to head out early. As we waited for the elites, Teeny sat in her wheelchair and clapped for the para-athletes soaring by in wheelchairs of all shapes and sizes. Because it was so early in the day and it was very, very windy, we were among the few out there watching. There was no music, no party, no masses of people dancing and screaming and holding signs like there would be in another hour or two. It was an oddly melancholy moment. I felt a little like we were in a Giorgio DeChirico painting, standing there alone on the eerily empty, cold and windy corner of a street set up for a much bigger crowd. Most of the runners wouldn't see this particular intersection for another two hours or more, yet the para-athletes were zooming along one at a time, accompanied by some of the fastest cyclists I've ever seen. I stood next to Teeny, pointing out the different kinds of wheelchairs as they passed us. I explained to her what they were doing. We cheered and clapped and I wondered vaguely if any of them noticed her. I cried as I watched her watch them -- I couldn't help it. At mile 21, many of them looked very tired but they all had that determined look I know so well. It's the expression I see on Teeny's face every single day. 

Maybe Teeny will grow up to be a para-athlete like the ones we saw that day and maybe she won't. Maybe she will get a PhD or maybe a GED or maybe she will be happy well into adulthood just singing her ABCs. Whatever the case, a good friend said today that she will definitely surprise us. And it's true. She already has. 

The day we got her MRI report I thought my life was over. Two years almost to the day, I now know it's not about me. It's all about her. And my life is far from over. It's so much better, and that's so much because of her.

So since internet lists are all the rage lately, here are 50 things I love about Teeny today:

50. She loves the soundtrack to The Nightmare Before Christmas, which has been one of my favorites since the movie was in the theaters ages ago.

49. How she says "MORE AH-WEEN! MORE JACK! I want JACK!" when it's over. (She seems to speak in all caps quite often.)
48. She wiggles her butt when she's dancing.

47. The pure joy she finds in so many things in life.
46. She is able to use language to do more than express a need or a want. For example, when you call her name, she often answers with a deadpan "what," like a totally typical teenager.

45. Putting her on and taking her off the school bus is a family affair we all have come to love.

44. How she sings the ABCs and counts on her fingers to ten.

43. Her adorable little lisp.

42. She gives high-fives.

41. The way she has decided to call Johnny "dada" even though we all call him Daddy.

40. Her big round butt that is the only physical feature of mine she seems to have inherited and how adorable it looks in her new Hello Kitty or My Little Pony underwear.

39. She doesn't mind long car rides.

38. How she claps and shouts "I PEED!" when she uses the potty.

37. She uses the potty about 75% of the time now. We thought we might be changing diapers forever.
36. Listening to her repeat everything anyone says to her and knowing she's trying her hardest to understand and contribute.
35. Her big beautiful eyes.

34. Snuggling with her, breathing her in and having her ask me for more hugs and kisses, most of which she now plants squarely and very wetly right on my lips.
33. Her determination. I've never seen anything like it.

32. She's a fairly adventurous eater and will try almost anything at least once.

31. She hugs her baby dolls and makes them sleep, cry, eat and walk.

30. Her funny pronunciation of everything.
29. The way she says "I love you... too!"
28. She brushes her own teeth.

27. How she always wants to do everything by herself.
26. Except when she doesn't. "No. Mama do it!"
25. She has a crazy sweet tooth, especially for vegan chocolate chips, chocolate chip cookies from Whole Foods and any cupcakes I make.

24. How she refers to herself almost always in the third person.
23. She says "Easy, Mama!" and "Be nice!" when I get cranky.
22. She loves her adaptive ballet class and begs to wear her ballet shoes all the time.

21. How she turns the pages of books when we read to her.

20. Her little index finger, always pointing at something.

19. The way she sleeps, rolled in a ball, butt in the air.

18. Kissing her soft skin all over.

17. Watching her learn.

16. She's becoming very girly and often insists on wearing my necklace or bracelet.

15. How she says her own name.

14. She plays her dada's guitar.

13. She says hello and goodbye in such earnest that you know she's genuinely happy to see you come and sad to see you go.
12. She likes to wear costumes and play dress-up.

11. How much she charms everyone who meets her.

10. Kisses, band-aids and the little icepack shaped like a ladybug make every boo-boo better. And how she says "I'm okay!" whenever she tumbles because she knows we all worry she's going to get really hurt.

9. She loves Daniel Tiger, Piggie, Winnie the Pooh, Ponyo and many other endearingly sweet characters. 

8. She idolizes her sister.

7. She helps take out the garbage.

6. She likes to have her nails painted.

5. How badly she wants to walk and how hard she works at cruising, climbing and taking steps every single day.

4. She has surpassed every expectation any of her doctors or therapists have ever had.

3. I watched her come out of my body when I gave birth to her at home and I was the first person to hold her and kiss her.

2. Her amazing manners: she says please and thank you without being asked.
1. She gives the best hugs of anyone I have ever met.

A Birthday Letter to Teeny

To my second daughter, on your second birthday:

For weeks now I've been packing up the baby clothes that don't fit you, the black and white infant toys you no longer bother with. Your first haircut is behind you. You're all but weaned.  You are tall and slim. Your second birthday is tomorrow and you are now a little girl.

Two years ago tomorrow, your arrival completed our family. I had always wanted two daughters, so I waited for you with excited anticipation. But you didn't want to wait! You were born, a week before your due date, at home surrounded by people who love you. There were no wires, no lights, no machines. Just you and me, in the water in the dim light, with your daddy next to us and your sister Bee sound asleep. Our midwife and her assistant gave us lots of space and made it as beautiful an experience as possible. And beautiful it was, because you were beautiful.

It is hard to live in the shadow of a big sister, but you don't let that slow you down a bit. You are your own person with your own wants and needs. You are a sweet and gentle child and you give the best hugs I've ever gotten. You love music, you love to dance and bounce and play. You are alternately easygoing and extremely opinionated. You are a toddler in almost every way: you are busy with pretend play; you like textures like sand and water and rough surfaces; when I drop you at school, you usually wave me away, more interested in the light table or painting at school than saying goodbye to Mama. And of course, while 95% of the time you are happy and mild mannered, you can also throw a terrible-twos tantrum with the best of 'em.

Your words are coming; this morning in the car on the way to school, you said "bus" without any prompting from anyone. I looked up to see a yellow school bus blocking traffic. You were smiling at me, pointing at it from your seat. I can no longer count the words you understand and use actively; every day there are more. Your mobility is also coming. You cruised the length of the sandbox in your bare feet two weeks ago; this weekend you cruised the length of a NYC park bench and back with your braces on. You are getting bigger and stronger. Your determination, which I first spotted as a flicker in your eyes when you were ten months old beginning physical therapy, burns brighter and brighter all the time.

When you were born, no one had any idea that your life would be so very different from the way you entered the world. No one had any inkling that shortly after your first birthday you would have a team of therapists and doctors and specialists working with you. But they are helping you, and while you may need their assistance throughout your life, you are the one who deserves the credit for the progress you make. You have unwavering courage; you are bold, you are brave, you are persistent. I admire you and learn from you.

In his book The Art Of Racing In The Rain, which I hope someday you will read, Garth Stein wrote, “In racing, they say that your car goes where your eyes go. The driver who cannot tear his eyes away from the wall as he spins out of control will meet that wall; the driver who looks down the track as he feels his tires break free will regain control of his vehicle.” A year ago, I had my eyes fixed on the wall. Unable to undo the issues you were born with, I felt helpless and lost inside. But you changed all of that. You helped me get my eyes back on the road.

In the past year of doctor appointments, therapies, treatments, evaluations, meetings and explanations, I have learned to watch you and to listen to you. You show me that you are progressing. You show me that you are learning. And most of all, you show me every single day that you are happy right now. Yes, life is frustrating for you. That's okay; it's frustrating for everyone. It doesn't matter to you that you're not running marathons or writing novels. You can move from point A to point B. You can express yourself and get all your needs met. You don't let this thing discourage you, and you don't let it discourage me. In this way you have accomplished in two short years more than most people ever could. You have helped me love you for who you are, and you taught me that who you are is are everything I ever hoped for in a daughter. I am so lucky to have you in my life, my sweet, beautiful, determined girl. I love getting to know you. Happy second birthday to you. I love you to the moon!

Mama

 

Gratitude

It's amazing how my priorities began to change when I had children. For example, if you had asked me twenty years ago where I would want to live most if I could afford anywhere, I wouldn't have blinked before saying the East Village. Ten years ago I would have said West Village. Now I am torn between Upper West Side and outside the city, like in the Berkshires. Right? It's nuts. I am craving a slower, calmer lifestyle. A backyard, a vegetable garden, a shady tree. Room for my girls to run around and air for them to breathe. A yard with bikes and a ball strewn across it, a kiddie pool. And a second bathroom.

We talk about moving every day. It's not that we hate where we are. We have a great apartment in a brand-new building in Harlem. We have wonderful neighbors and we are less than 10 minutes from 4 express trains. We have a car and a safe place to park it, we have a courtyard with our own planter, we have a small fitness room with a treadmill I can use when I don't run outside. We are refinancing our mortgage and saving a bundle in the process. And still, whenever we drive anywhere, we have neighborhood envy. We ask ourselves if we could live there. We try to imagine ourselves in a townhouse on Hudson Street or in the West 70s (easy, too bad we will never be able to afford it), in  Woodstock (my favorite so far), western Massachusetts (second favorite), Vermont (too far), New Jersey (unlikely), Boston (love it. did you know me fifteen years ago? can you believe I just said that?) Long Island (no way), Hudson Valley (maybe).  Depending on my job, depending on life, we'll see where we end up, but we are now two years into the ten-year plan we put ourselves on not long after Thora was born, and we still think we'll leave the city someday. Hard to imagine! But eight years from now we will have two little tween girls and a lot more grey hair and, if these past two years are any indication, a strong hankering for space, a sense of community that we just don't have where we live, more greenery and quiet.

But for today we are where we are and that's that. I am truly thankful for all that we have and I'm in no rush to skip town. In fact, Johnny and I talk every day about all we have to be grateful for. At the dinner table, we ask each other about something good that happened that day. It's a nice way to end a long hard day. I keep a list now of things I'm grateful for and it's kind of amazing how much awesomeness I have in my life that I never paid attention to before.

There's a sign like this on our way to the 4/5 train station in the Bronx that took me by surprise the other day.

Recently someone posted a link to a website on Facebook. I don't always click on links other people post, but this one caught my eye. It was the website of a group of photographers who volunteer their services to photograph new parents with their terminally ill or stillborn babies. The main photo was one of a woman crying, clearly in anguish, clutching a tiny baby to her chest. It was only when I clicked again and read the blog entry that I understood that this baby was stillborn. Someone had cleaned her, dressed her and placed her in her mother's arms. I couldn't look away. I read every word and looked at every picture and cried along with the mother whose baby never had a chance. I was amazed that there are such kind-hearted photographers who give service by taking part in these terrible moments and providing these grieving parents with a memory that they wish they never had to have in the first place. 

Eventually I wiped my tears and clicked the site off. I went straight to my sleeping Teeny and held her to me. I breathed her in, nuzzled her peach-fuzzy head, felt her warmth. All these months I've been worried about her. Worried because she is smaller than her sister. Worried because she meets milestones more slowly than Thora did. Worried that she is the last of the five babies I know born around the same time to do anything - sit up, crawl, get teeth. Worried that between work and school that I am not home enough, that I don't pump enough or make enough homemade baby food, that she won't wear a sun hat, that she loves jumping in her jumperoo so much that she got a blister on her toe, worried worried worried. Now I felt nothing but gratitude. I have two happy, healthy, beautiful children who are different from each other. My love for this tiny creature felt tangible, visceral. Her beautiful, peaceful face with porcelain cheeks and long lashes stopped my heart for a moment. I made this. Even in sleep, she is so alive, so full of hope and promise. So really, who gives a rat's ass if she learns to crawl three months later than her sister? As someone recently said to me, I have four teenagers and they all have teeth and none of them are still in diapers! Someone else said, don't worry, she's not going to crawl down the aisle. She's here now. She's breathing and living and growing now. She is wonderful NOW. She is learning every day NOW. She is a beautiful, happy and healthy baby NOW. Her pediatrician assures me that she is as developed muscularly as her sister was, that she is normal and healthy and strong, just lazy. "It's all volition," she said. Thora never had any patience and was always rushing off to master the next thing. She's still like that. This kid is just happy where she is. Awake, she claps now, and grins a silly, toothless, gummy grin at anyone who calls her name. She recently learned to splash in the bathtub too. She gazes adoringly at her big sister, who sometimes brings her toys and diapers, feeds her and kisses her, and other times bonks her on the head or pushes her out of the way. I will never have another baby again. I will never experience pregnancy or childbirth again, I will never have another newborn. This baby is already growing up too fast. Just the other day we were talking about her upcoming first birthday and how we wanted to celebrate. I am so lucky, so blessed. I am grateful for what I have now. Especially since it's true what they say: it goes by so fast!

Last night as I put the girls to bed, I realized how much has changed since I last updated. Bee and Teeny now share a room. Bee is in a toddler bed. Teeny is in the crib. It's a little crowded in their room but it's just that: their room. A baby's room is for the baby's parents, I think. The changing table, the glider, the lovingly crafted decorations, decals, framed photos and so on. This is a girls' room now. Yep, there's still a changing table and a glider, but as Johnny and I moved all the furniture around again and again to accommodate the bed along with the crib, we stubbed toes and tripped over things and argued about what we could toss. But what to get rid of? Not the changing table, as they are both still in diapers. Not the glider, as Teeny is still nursing. The toybox? The easel? The bookshelf? No, no. It all has to stay. That stuff is no longer ours; it's theirs and they use it. There are toys tossed everywhere, books piled up in places Thora can easily reach, marker caps under the easel, dried out and capless markers in the toybox, a half painted painting on the easel, dirty socks and a onesie on the floor. I surveyed the evidence of the little lives being lived in this room as I nursed and sang the baby to sleep in the twilight. There was a green plastic ball and one lone pink Croc in bed with Thora, a handful of pacifiers in different colors in the crib. Each girl had a harem of Ugly Dolls with a variety of names: Blue, Concord, Ox, Batoozi. Bee sleeps clutching Big Bird, Teeny rolls herself into a burrito of baby and cotton blanket. Little girls live and breathe in there now. 

Bee is nothing if not a creature of habit, with a memory like an elephant. She now brushes her teeth morning and night with little to no fuss because that's what we do. When I come in from work, she says, "Mama has to go pee" before she even says hello. When I come in from running, she doesn't even try to hug me anymore because "Mama, you're disgusting. You need a shower." I'm allowed to brush her hair as long as I give her a turn with the brush afterwards. She knows we check on her flowers every day and reminds us to take her there if we forget. She knows she has her mini-school twice a week and when we tell her that's where we're going, she doesn't argue about getting in the stroller because even she knows that's too far for her to walk. Going to the sprinklers means she gets to wear her Crocs instead of sneakers. She wants to go back to the hippo park every single day and when we say yes, we're going, she lights up and walks straight over to the front door and says, "Okay! Let's go, Daddy!" and starts down the hall to the elevator.

This week we were supposed to be visiting family, but when our plans changed, we decided to take the girls to Sesame Place. Bee's absolute favorite character, favorite stuffed animal, favorite favorite is Big Bird and we've been talking about taking her there for a long time. It's only about an hour and a half from home, so we decided to do it in a day. It was so much fun. At first, she was pretty overwhelmed. She didn't love all the rides, but she enjoyed a lot of them. She saw all the characters, got to stand on Sesame Street, she got to ride down a river in a big green inner tube on my lap, and she got to meet Big Bird. This is such a big deal that two days later she's still saying, "Remember how I met Big Bird, Mama? Remember I kissed him? On the lip?" and "Hi Mama, how are you doing today? I'm going to Sesame Place again." I keep telling her we will go back, but not today. Soon. She pores over the crappy picture of her with me, Big Bird and Elmo superimposed over a lamely Photoshopped rendition of Sesame Street in a plastic Sesame Place frame and reminds me that she met Big Bird and that she's going back tomorrow. She made me write B-I-G B-I-R-D out for her so she could recognize it, and we wrote out S-E-S-A-M-E P-L-A-C-E for her to read and recognize too. She's not far from sounding words out. She already recognizes words like Mama, Daddy, Bee, Teeny, cat, car, drink. She knows that a is for alligator, b is for butterfly, c is for cookie and car and cat, d is for Daddy, and so on.

Her language acquisition and developing pronunciation are absolutely delightful to observe. She's mastered singular and plural and you vs me. She's getting past tense as well, except with irregular verbs like "Mama, I waked up." She has been able to count well past twenty for a while now, and her pronunciation is slowly getting better. She still says "memen" for seven but now she says "five" whereas a month ago she said "byse." I can tell the difference between how she says "Teeny" and "Shiva" now. For a long time she called them both "Bia" but now it's clear when she means the cat and when she means her sister. 

Today we drove to up to Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary. Thora has been there before but this time it really registered. She fell in love with Boone the turkey and spent most of the afternoon petting him and talking to him softly. She also met two chickens, a cow, two pigs, a sheep and a goat, and loved them all. She stood in front of the cows, mooing heartily. Then she turned to me and said "Mama, we love cows. We don't eat cows." She skipped in the dirt and collected rocks and sang "Hi animals!" and ate one Field Roast hot dog after the next and wiped her Earth Balancey fingers on my (white!) shorts and asked if she could roll in the mud with the big pigs. 

Here she is saying goodbye to everyone she met at Sesame Place as we started the drive home. Goodbye!