Mommys can do tricks. They can pretend not to notice angry strangers while trying to calm their crying babies. They can heave 50 pounds of stroller/baby/diaper bag up and down subway stairs. They can (sometimes) usher toddlers between playground and home without inciting a tantrum.
No one ever seems to acknowledge these miraculous feats.
But I do have one trick that everyone seems to notice.
Charlie eats vegetables.
And by eat, I mean he asks for them. Then, when he gets them, he gobbles them up as if they will soon disappear from his bowl.
It started with the mashed up stuff I made myself. Now, he eats everything I cook plus some raw veggies. Zucchini, peppers, broccoli, spinach, beans—add some seasoning and that boy chows down. Since I will eat chocolate and cake before any veggie, CW must get this preference from his father. I don’t question; I just go with it. And often give him veggies as snacks. This is especially fun on the subway.
People stare in awe. Their eyes say I am a miracle worker.
“He eats peppers? He eats broccoli?! That’s…amazing!
Cooking veggies that taste good—the best mom trick ever.
Now that we live in Brooklyn, spending a long afternoon exploring Central Park is a “day in the city,” rather than just what we always do for fun.
On Earth Day weekend, we took the train to the Upper East Side to see the free concerts. We ended up throwing coins in the fountain, feeding the turtles, and rolling around in the Sheep Meadow. (We missed you chasing all the squirrels, Cecil!)
The sky was blue; the sun was hot; the wind was cool. There was music and laughter and spring greenery and flowers. We had such a beautiful, wonderful, sweet day that I told Jesse (only half-jokingly) that I knew where we should live next: Manhattan. (Of course an evening in our crowded, expensive old neighborhood reminded me why we left in the first place.)
I took a few photos, including an attempt at a self-family portrait.
A few weeks ago our first bike ride of the season was on a foggy Saturday. Charlie and I followed an out-dated map through Brooklyn, from Windsor Terrace to Bay Ridge. It only took about an hour to make it to the playground at 92nd and the water. (We got lost only once, when the bike path disappeared and the road we wanted was across an interstate. It only took four or five wrong turns to figure out how to get over all the cars.)
We met some of Charlie’s friends from Fedkids and they had a great time slopping in puddles, swinging, and climbing up the slide. Plus, Charlie and I loved the ride. We had so much fun, we convinced Jesse to bike back to Bay Ridge on Sunday, to Owls Head Park. Here are the photos.
The best thing about living in Brooklyn is riding bikes. Since spring began, we’ve ridden twice to Bay Ridge, twice to the farmer’s market and once to a playground down near Ave M. Today’s bike stroll through Ditmas Park put us at the magic number 16. Happy mother’s day!
Do you have a favorite letter of the alphabet? I’m personally fond of S, because it begins my name. I also like J, which makes me think of my hubbie. But these relate to personal history, which a toddler doesn’t really have. So how does a two-year-old pick a favorite letter?
Whatever the process, Charlie has picked W.
It’s in his middle name, but I don’t think he knows that. Maybe it’s that he can recognize it, although that came after he insisted on inserting W into the alphabet song between every other letter.
A and B have their uses, I suppose, but W has stolen the show.
Yesterday, as we walked home, we passed a wine store.
“W! W, Mama!” Charlie said.
Sure enough, there was a big W in the sign for wine. Then later that evening I gave him a New York magazine to peruse. He likes the pictures—or so I thought.
“W! W, Mama!”
Yes, he was pointing to the title of the magazine, in the masthead. It was tiny type! But he found the W.
Maybe Charlie asked for the magazine because he wanted to read it!
He measured up at 36 and a half inches tall and 34 pounds and 9 ounces. In the 90th and 95th percentile respectively. And, everything was pronounced healthy. He even got a sticker.
I can’t believe that I actually downloaded all of these photos and videos so quickly. (It’s cause I knew Pawpaw had asked for them particularly, I think. I mean, I still haven’t done the pictures from last summer’s vacation!)
Charlie started off his birthday celebrations with a party at Fedkids. To my horror, I realized I had forgotten my digital camera, so I grabbed a disposable one on the way to the festivities. Charlie had a blast snapping away and making everyone say cheese. (Any blurry pictures are, of course, his.)
Two of his teachers gave him some books that he loved. (He even refused to leave one of them behind when they went to the gym, and when I came back to pick him up a few hours later he knew what guinea pigs were when I pointed to their picture in the book!) Two of his other teachers baked him a delicious cake and came by to visit with him as he blew out his candles.
It was a fun time, and Charlie really took a shine to everyone telling him “Happy Birthday” and giving him presents. (He has the “open please” and tearing paper thing down.)
The next day, Saturday, was Charlie’s party at our house. Many of his friends from daycare were there, but the highlight of the day was an appearance by his beloved music teacher Gina Samardge. He was delighted, and a bit confused, to have so many people he sees outside the house in the house.
I knew Charlie would love to have Gina sing just for him. (He talks about her every time he sees a guitar or a snake—you’ll see why in the pictures.) And so I looked into her schedule and fees when I first started planning the party, in February. That’s when I also looked into reserving spaces or hiring out a party package from a local kids’ store that included Gina’s talents. When I heard the cost, my Southern raised-to-be-a-homemaker brain kicked in. “I can do that at half the price!” I thought.
And I nearly did.
And nearly keeled over trying.
This was a decidedly small affair. Eight kids total. But now I know why people hire event planners or pay mega-bucks to have their shindig for two-year-olds catered and held at a location far away from the place where they plan to sleep.
After a month of doing the scheduling, the invitations, the planning of decorations, the buying of goody bags, and the enlisting of borrowed toddler tables and chairs, I woke up at 6 am to bake the cake, clean the house, rearrange the furniture and tape up balloons. Jesse and Charlie spent the day blowing up balloons, buying beverages and veggies, and trying to blow off steam somewhere besides our living room.
Here’s what it looked like when we were done.
The party was messy, loud and delicious.
The plan was for a full hour and a half of toddler entertainment. A half hour for arrivals and art, a half hour for pizza and cake and a half hour of Gina’s music. The toys in Charlie’s room were ready as back-up. With only a few snafus, and surprisingly few crayon marks on the furniture, it went well.
Of course, when we were done, we were all really done.
And after Charlie passed out in his bed, it only took Jesse and I an hour or so to get all the chocolate cake, apple juice and pizza off the floor.
Today, I picked out a light jacket for Charlie. He’d been playing with it on the couch. When it was time to go, I said, “Let’s get your jacket.”
Charlie ran away from the couch and the jacket and toward the closet.
“We’re gonna wear your the other jacket, the one on the couch.”
He cried a bit, pulled on the sleeve of his daddy’s jacket (which was hung right next to Charlie’s, in the closet) and said, “Jacket.”
“You want to wear this jacket?” I pointed to his heavier coat, the one he’s worn nearly every day this winter but which seemed a little heavy for such a sunny day.
“Yeah-ss!”
I laughed. “Well, if you feel that strongly about it, you can wear that one!”
I’d heard that toddlers could be particular about what they want to wear. This was Charlie’s first time.
