Posts filed under ‘Cute kids’
When I was a kid I loved to take baths. Not quite to the environmental era, I was allowed to fill the tub up close to the top. I loved steaming water, the kind that actually causes you to steep like a tea bag. When I got out my legs would have a pulse.
It felt good.
I am still all in favor for baths…for the girls. Bath time is play time. All three blonde beauties go in, along with sea creatures, cups, wash clothes. The water is turned off way before the half way mark. And they play. They sing songs all the while making a world under the sea comparable to any red head wanting to be “part of your world.”
They stay in the bath way too long.
I remember my mom making me get out after about fifteen minutes when I was young. “You’ll get all prunny.”
Well mom, on a rainy day with no therapy, no school, nowhere to go, a day where everyone is already bored by nine-thirty in the morning…
I’m bringing prunny back.
I could tell that my husband was very relaxed on our little get away. One night at dinner he ended his prayer for our meal with “Thank you, Bye bye.”
Lately I’ve been playing a game with Polly. I’ll ask her if she’s my baby and she will nod her head yes.
Today at lunch I sang out to her, “Polly, are you my baby?”
She shook her head no and signed “big.”
“Polly, are you my big girl?” I asked.
Her face broke into a smile and she nodded her head yes.
Today Lainie was cuddling with me and Zoya wanted a turn.
“No, Zoya, I’m older. I only have a couple more years and I’m out of here,” she said.
Apparently, Elaina is leaving home when she is ten.
I like to sing.
I sang a lot growing up. At first my concerts mostly took place in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom with the anecdotal wooden spoon as a microphone. But my singing life really took off after my dad taught me all the lyrics to My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music on a really long car trip.
In high school I loved to participate in the choir and sing in musicals and add jazz hands to my solos. I got to wear a white tuxedo shirt with a sparkly blue bow tie and cumber bun in the chorale.
The ability to carry a tune is passed down from my father. One of my mom’s favorite stories about going to high school with my dad is that the choir teacher always had him start a song because he had perfect pitch. She was also told in choir, on several occasions, to listen to my dad to learn how a song should be sung.
So I back-stroked through my small pond of high school singing The Star Spangled Banner at the beginning of basketball games and belting out jingles while scampering around knocking people over with my (by then) infamous jazz hands on stage year after year in musicals. (Mind you, this was in the early 90’s, back before high school musicals were cool.)
Then in college, well, how do I put this?
I didn’t make the choir.
The pond turned into Lake Michigan. There were lots of kids who had fabluous jazz hands and vibrato and a million different colored bow ties. I bombed my freshman audition. My tie was placed up in the closet and the door closed on that part of my life. I adjusted, put my voice on the shelf and moved on.
I still love to sing though.
While dating, S dutifully listened to my ballads. In the beginning of our relationship he was always ready with a smile when I would ask, “would you like to hear me sing the theme song from Beaches… again?” Sometimes I got him to learn one of my songs on his guitar so that he could accompany me.
Sadly his enthusiasm for personal concerts has paled through the years.
Thankfully, though, I had children.
All three of my girls have been rocked and lullabied to sleep. Sometimes I still break into song if one of my older daughters are sad or bored. The problem is they join in and I prefer solos.
Now I am left with an audience of one. Polly loves music. She gives a big toothy smile when I sing The Itsy Bitsy Spider or The Wheels on The Bus. She even obliges a little Bette Midler or my earthy rendition of the Beatles’ Let It Be at meal time.
Friday at lunch she ate and I sang. When I finished, she clapped and signed “more music.”
You know, I do have a full length mirror upstairs…
We are big believers in family movie night. Friday nights, usually you’ll find our family strung out from the week’s events. Occasionally we go for a walk in our neighborhood, but most weeks we pile pillows on the floor and get lost for a couple of hours, cell phones off and homework assignments tucked away for the weekend. With S’s job, a few hours of family focus is just right, no matter that we choose to glue our eyes to the television.
My favorite part is the end of the movie. The credits roll, spunky music from the movie starts and my girls pop up and dance around with wild abandon, for at least three minutes. Their dance is serious and they look out of the corner of their eyes to see if we are watching. If we are watching they laugh and shimmey a bit more, maybe do a quick twist to keep our attention. If we are looking somewhere else, no bother, because they are dancing, really, for the sheer pleasure of it.
Polly dances now. It’s scrumptous. The other night she rocked back and forth, back and forth to the music and then held out her hand to stop her sisters in mid-motion, coaxing them to mimic her moves instead. Pretty soon all three girls were doing the baby version of the electric slide.
I’ve seen a lot of wonderful movies. The kind of movies that make your heart stand up and jive and two step while your bottom stays planted in it’s seat.
The other day when we were out for a walk Elaina said that she can’t wait until she is a grown up. She’s excited to get a cell phone and to eat as much dessert as she wants.
What she doesn’t know is that when a person’s life is adult and filled with cell phones and jobs and bills, they forget how to dance.
Next time we finish a movie, maybe I’ll have enough wisdom, enough gumption to join my kids.
If you wake up on a Monday morning, feeling lowly for no particular reason.
If you go through the morning routine, pick out school clothes for the kids, kiss them as they leave for school, make oatmeal, have breakfast with your toddler, put a load of laundry in, still with a dark cloud hanging over your head, even though the sun is shinning brightly outdoors…
Don’t turn on the television and sit down with a hot mug of coffee with a little milk and turn on a morning show only to see the worlds most amazingly talented children. Kids who aren’t even potty trained pointing out where Turkey is on the map. Children who could catch a down beat on the drums at six months old or girls who don’t even have their periods yet who can sing like Whitney Houston.
Don’t do it.
I knew there was a reason why I don’t EVER turn on the television during the day.
S and I got a chance to pop in on Ella and her folks for a few minutes tonight. It was such a pleasure to see her sweet face. For an update on Ella and post-op pictures, go here.
Thank you for your prayers.
This beautiful little girl and her family could use our prayers. Emma and her brother Micah came home to live with their Mom, Dad, brother and sister from Ukraine not too long ago. Besides having Down syndrome, Emma has some added health concerns. Read about her and how to pray here.