Asco Adventures

2009 Books

2010-01-04T13:26:00.004-05:00

Without further (or, really, any) ado, here's what I read last year. As usual, the goal was 50 books, and, no, I didn't include all the Elephant and Piggie and Pinkalicious books I read in order to pad the total! The only re-read on the list is The Reader.

1. Indignation - Philip Roth
2. Unaccustomed Earth - Jhumpa Lahiri
3. Ghost Story - Peter Straub
4. The House on Fortune Street - Margot Livesey
5. Dear American Airlines - Jonathan Miles
6. Therese Raquin - Emile Zola
7. Love the One You're With - Emily Giffin
8. Friends, Lovers, Chocolate - Alexander McCall Smith
9. The Right Attitude to Rain - Alexander McCall Smith
10. Olive Kitteridge - Elizabeth Strout
11. Last Night at the Lobster - Stewart O'Nan
12. The Reader - Bernhard Schlink
13. The Book of Dahlia - Elisa Albert
14. American Wife - Curtis Sittenfeld
15. Testimony - Anita Shreve
16. Broken for You - Stephanie Kallos
17. Amy and Isabelle - Elizabeth Strout
18. Yesterday's Weather - Anne Enright
19. Abide with Me - Elizabeth Strout
20. December - Elizabeth Hartley Winthrop
21. Snow Angels - Stewart O'Nan
22. Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World - Vicki Myron with Bret Witter
23. Sing Them Home - Stephanie Kallos
24. Homeword - Margot Livesey
25. Criminals - Margot Livesey
26. The Missing World - Margot Livesey
27. Eva Moves the Furniture - Margot Livesey
28. Banishing Verona - Margot Livesey
29. Honeymoon with My Brother: A Memoir - Franz Wisner
30. The Hour I First Believed - Wally Lamb
31. A Mercy - Toni Morrison
32. Water for Elephants - Sara Gruen
33. Friday Night Knitting Club - Kate Jacobs
34. Certain Girls: A Novel - Jennifer Weiner
35. 2666 - Roberto Bolano
36. Busy Woman Seeks Wife - Annie Sanders
37. Crazy Love - Leslie Morgan Steiner
38. Fool - Christopher Moore
39. It Sucked and Then I Cried: How I Had a Baby, a Breakdown, and a Much Needed Margarita - Heather Armstrong
40. The Careful Use of Compliments - Alexander McCall Smith
41. 44 Scotland Street - Alexander McCall Smith
42. Cutting for Stone - Abraham Verghese
43. Crossing to Safety - Wallace Stegner
44. Espresso Tales - Alexander McCall Smith
45. In the Kitchen - Monica Ali
46. The Comforts of a Muddy Saturday - Alexander McCall Smith
47. How Tough Could It Be? The Trials and Errors of a Sportswriter Turned Stay-at-Home Dad - Austin Murphy
48. When You Are Engulfed in Flames - David Sedaris
49. I See You Everywhere - Julia Glass
50. The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
51. Homer's Odyssey: A Fearless Feline Tale or How I Learned about Love and Life and a Blind Wonder Cat - Gwen Cooper
52. You Can't Say You Can't Play - Vivian Paley
53. Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace - Ayelet Waldman
54. The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane - Kate DiCamillo
55. That Old Cape Magic - Richard Russo
56. Year of the Flodd - Margaret Atwood
57. Sag Harbor: A Novel - Colson Whitehead
58. Bridge of Sighs - Richard Russo
59. The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane - Katherine Howe
60. The Art of Racing in the Rain - Garth Stein
61. Songs without Words - Ann Packer
62. The English American - Alison Larkin
63. Best Friends Forever - Jennifer Weiner

Persistent Princess

2009-12-07T14:46:00.005-05:00

Anna, while enjoying dress-ups, has never been obsessed with being in costume. She adopts an identity ("I'm the baby arctic fox, and you're the mama arctic fox!"), but she doesn't feel the need to dress the part. Tessa, on the other hand, has become positively obsessed with dress-ups since Halloween. For those of you who haven't seen the gorgeous wonder that was Tessa on Halloween, here you go:

I mean, come on - cute! I know I'm a biased mommy, but that's one adorable Cinderella. Since Halloween, that costume, which I knew would take up residence in the dress-ups box, has been worn more times than my cost-per-wear analysis could possibly have dreamed of and has gone through the wash close to half a dozen times. It's held up remarkably (Disney Store, here's your plug). Ditto for Anna's Minnie Mouse costume, which Tessa has also appropriated. And last year's Tinkerbell costume, although that one doesn't have the princess skirt appeal of the other two, apparently, as it's not getting the same air time.

She's wearing these to bed. To school. To birthday parties (lest anyone forget who the *real* star of the day might be!). And, while at first we thought ???, we have since adopted the mantra that this is not a battle we're willing to fight. As long as she's dressed appropriately for the weather under the costume, and as long as she ends up with shoes and a coat, where's the harm? It's adorable at 2 years 9 months of age. As long as it's gone by 24 or so, she should be fine, right?

Versary

2009-11-18T08:18:00.002-05:00

On the way home one night last week, I explained to the girls that Eric and I were going to go out on Saturday night to celebrate our anniversary and that they would get to stay home and play with a friend of ours.

Anna liked that the word has her name sound at the beginning of it, and she wanted to know what it was. I told them that an anniversary is like a birthday, but not for a person - a birthday for something else special that happened - and that this anniversary was for when Eric and I got married.

They absorbed this, and then Tessa proclaimed, "No! It's a Tessaversary."

Well, it kind of makes sense...

2009-09-18T22:31:00.002-05:00

Tessa has taken to referring to passing gas as "belly burps." It's nice to see her creativity emerging in such a...descriptive fashion.

Words

2009-07-31T09:22:00.003-05:00

First, as in five months since I've written any here. Second, as in the funny ones the kiddos have been saying as their vocabularies develop. I need to record these for posterity and before the soundtrack goes out of my head. Many have now been defeated in favor of the correct pronunciations. I'm actually kind of sad about that.

Here goes - Anna's list is shorter than Tessa's, for perhaps obvious reasons!

Anna's Constructions
beeber = beaver (thank the Littlest Pet Shop collection for even needing to know this one)
drunk store = drug store (upon seeing a CVS: "Mama! It's the drunk store!")

Tessa's Constructions
meenas = bananas
culluh = color (she sounded like something out of Gone With the Wind on that one)
banewns = balloons
cocadots = polka dots
foooon = spoon
eesheeeyah! = there it is!
choo choo pain = choo choo train

Never a dull moment in our family conversations.

Something like this...

2009-02-27T08:04:00.002-05:00

Anna meandered into our room, half-asleep, at some point overnight, and we pulled her in to zonk out with us. This happens with some frequency. I can't say that I really mind, since I don't get to see her during the day. Some snuggle time is just fine, and it's not out of hand as she usually burrows in and is sound asleep from about the time her head hits the pillow.

Last night, though, we had the added bonus of Tessa, who woke up at around 4:15 or so and wasn't having any suggestion of going back to sleep. With all of us piled in, little arms and legs and stuffed beasties flying everywhere, and me half-asleep (maybe not quite half), I was struck with an image I hadn't thought of in years. What I wouldn't have given for nine feet high and six feet wide...

Look Who's Two!

2009-02-18T22:30:00.006-05:00

Happy Birthday, Tessa!

Books I Read in 2008

2009-02-18T16:02:00.012-05:00

I've been meaning to post this list for the past month and a half, but I've been busy starting on the 2009 list! Without further ado, here are the books I read in 2008. The titles in bold are the ones I liked the most, for whatever reason. Just about all of these are first-time reads.

1. The Ecco Book of Christmas Stories - Alberto Manguel, ed.
2. The Gathering - Anne Enright
3. Come Back: A Mother and Daughter's Journey through Hell and Back - Claire Fontaine and Mia Fontaine
4. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Hunter S. Thompson
5. I Am America (And So Can You!) - Stephen Colbert
6. Fantasyland: A Season on Baseball's Lunatic Fringe - Sam Walker
7. The Corrections - Jonathan Franzen
8. Coraline - Neil Gaiman
9. The Senator's Wife - Sue Miller
10. Twilight - Stephenie Meyer
11. The Book Thief - Markus Zusak
12. The Namesake - Jumpala Lahiri
13. The Whole World Over - Julia Glass
14. Eat Pray Love - Elizabeth Gilbert
15. New Moon - Stephenie Meyer
16. Uglies - Scott Westerfeld
17. Eclipse - Stephenie Meyer
18. Pretties - Scott Westerfeld
19. Specials – Scott Westerfeld
20. The Looking Glass Wars – Frank Beddor
21. Neverwhere – Neil Gaiman
22. Just in Case – Meg Rosoff
23. Smoke and Mirrors – Neil Gaiman
24. The Post-Birthday World – Lionel Shriver
25. Replay – Ken Grimwood
26. The Speed of Light – Elizabeth Rosner
27. The Host – Stephenie Meyer
28. We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families: Stories from Rwanda – Philip Gourevitch
29. In His Sights: A True Story of Love and Obsession – Kate Brennan
30. What Happened to Anna K: A Novel – Irina Reyn
31. The Summer of Naked Swim Parties: A Novel – Jessica Anya Blau
32. We Need to Talk about Kevin – Lionel Shriver
33. The Three of Us: A Family Story – Julia Blackburn
34. Ender’s Game – Orson Scott Card
35. Case of a Lifetime: A Criminal Defense Lawyer’s Story – Abbe Smith
36. Playing for Pizza – John Grisham
37. Run – Ann Patchett
38. I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman – Nora Ephron
39. Everyman – Philip Roth
40. Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace… One School at a Time – Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin
41. Blindness – Jose Saramago
42. Breaking Dawn – Stephenie Meyer
43. On Chesil Beach – Ian McEwan
44. Revolutionary Road – Richard Yates
45. Dangerous Laughter: 13 Stories – Steven Millhauser
46. The Secret History – Donna Tartt
47. I Was Told There’d Be Cake – Sloane Crosley
48. Netherland – Joseph O’Neill

Modeling for Grandma

2009-01-26T11:37:00.005-05:00

Look, Mom - she grew into it!

Toasty warm, and so cute. Grandma Sweaters are extra warm because of all the love.

New Toy

2009-01-26T11:36:00.003-05:00

Anna discovers bubble wrap...

...and we wonder exactly why we bought all those toys.

She's no Don King, but...

2009-01-26T11:34:00.002-05:00

How does Tessa feel about having a new President?

Electrified!!

Recap

2009-01-25T19:50:00.005-05:00

Well. That was a long stretch of no posting. I blame Facebook and our new Wii. But I'm here to tell you that these past two and a half months have been full of activity. Let me tell it from Anna's and Tessa's perspectives. To them, the past two and a half months boil down to one event: CHRISTMAS!!!

The requisite early morning PJ pictures show the girls reveling in their new (and larger) dollhouse,

Tessa going absolutely bananas over her most favorite Disney princess (thanks to Anna for schooling her on all of the options),

and Anna breaking out her first Guitar Hero moment - no electronics required!

We've had a great couple of months despite getting some kind of virus or another at every turn lately. We've enjoyed visits from family, and we've especially enjoyed watching our country take a step into a new and brighter light. As cheesy as that sounds, I can't think of a better way to describe the feeling I had on January 20th as Eric and I watched the inauguration on a giant screen in a (warm) movie theater near home. Anna describes that day as "President Obama's special day," and I think it was a special day for a lot of us.

More to come soon!

Today

2008-11-05T00:28:00.002-05:00

I arrived at my precinct at 4:45am to find a line already formed in the lobby area. By the time we opened for voting at 6:00am, the lines were extreme. We handled an optical scan machine going down, then a touchscreen machine going down, and we processed an incredible number of voters in the first three hours the polls were open. After the morning rush, we saw a steady but manageable stream of voters. Spirits were high, as was turnout - we saw over 60% of our eligible voters come through the door today, and that doesn't include the record high number of absentee voters.

At 7:00pm, we closed the doors and began the closing process. Two hours (and a little more) later, we completed our work, calling in Democratic victories across the board that contributed to turning Virginia blue in this election. Our little precinct was jumping today, and I was so proud to be a part of it.

I came home absolutely pumped to watch the returns, and I had a feeling that perhaps I wouldn't go to bed wondering who our next President would be. Eric and I shared a bottle of Virginia wine and some dark chocolate m&m's and spent the night watching returns come through on MSNBC and Comedy Central. We opted for CNN for the President-Elect's speech in Grant Park as it was coming through in HD.

I was a bit choked up and feeling the power of the moment leading up to the speech, but that was nothing compared to the power of seeing President-Elect Obama and his family greet the crowd at Grant Park. I said to Eric, "Look at this. They don't look like us, and yet they completely look like us." As President-Elect Obama spoke, I just plain lost it. I spent nearly 17 hours today working to make this election a positive experience for thousands of voters. I, along with close to a dozen other election officers, succeeded; I know we did. I watched the fruits of that labor from my living room tonight, and I watched my dearest hopes of this campaign season edge ever closer to reality.

I have said to friends over the past several months that I fervently wanted Anna and Tessa's first conscious memory of a U.S. President to be of Barack Obama and all the promise he brings to the office. Well, here it is, and I couldn't be happier about it. It's not hyperbole to say that I feel as though the sun has begun to rise after years of dark days, and I am incredibly optimistic about my girls' future in a way I haven't been before tonight. Inspiration, perspiration...it's all there in this guy. It's time to get out there and help get it done.

But first, I'm going to get a good night's sleep. It's been one hell of a long day.

XO

Election Day

2008-11-04T04:34:00.002-05:00

It's 4:37am, and I'm just about to head out the door to go to my local precinct, where I will spend the next 17 or so hours. I was so worried about sleeping through my 2 alarms this morning that I kept waking up every half hour or so. But I'm pumped, ready to get this thing going at long last. I have a cooler full of snacks and drinks and an awesome husband who's going to bring me a yummy hot sandwich from Panera that may or may not still be hot when I get to eat it. I don't know what kind of break schedule I'll be on, but I'll try to send updates during the day via Twitter (lizeta).

If you haven't already, go vote.

Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus

2008-10-28T08:13:00.002-05:00

From the Washington Post on Sunday:

Tysons Mall Not a Grinch Anymore: Protests Lead to a Deal for Longtime Santa

Tysons Corner Center and Santa -- a.k.a. Michael Graham -- reached agreement in principle to return him to the Santaland in the Fairfax County mall where he has dazzled tens of thousands of children for 18 years, both sides said. After an angry and impassioned outcry that included thousands of e-mails, phone calls, an online petition and the threat of a boycott, the mall reversed course, giving the drama a happy ending that seemed to have been snatched from the screenplay of "Miracle on 34th Street."

So we'll be there, red dresses and black patent leather shoes and all! Of course, all this means that we're probably looking at even longer lines than usual...

Cause one at a time doesn't always cut it

2008-10-22T10:33:00.002-05:00

I joined Army of Women today. Army of Women is a national organizational movement designed to bring more women into the breast cancer research fold. From their FAQ's:

"Like many women, Dr. Susan Love was becoming increasingly frustrated by our not having made more progress in figuring out what causes breast cancer and how to prevent it. Scientists told her that they did not know how to find the women who would be interested in taking part in the studies that were needed to end this disease. Dr. Love realized the problem wasn’t that women didn’t want to participate in these studies, but that they didn’t know that they were needed. In short order, the idea was born of an Army of Women ready to serve science."

"Women who are interested register on the Love/Avon Army of Women website, providing very basic information such as name, age, city, and state of residence. Army staff notify volunteers via email about studies that need volunteers. These emails describe the study, criteria to participate, and what is involved. Women who fit the criteria respond to the email to express their interest. Army staff then contact these women to let them know how to take part."

Before you guys get all up in my grill:

"We are starting with women since breast cancer is more common in women. After the initiative gets underway, we will consider adding men. Meanwhile men can support the initiative by donating to the Army of Women, purchasing a pendant, and encouraging women they know to take part."

I have no family history of breast cancer. With any luck, I'll never have breast cancer. With more than luck - with full-speed-ahead research and innovative work on prevention and cures - maybe my daughters will never have to worry about getting breast cancer. I think it's safe - and sad - to say that we all know someone (or more than one someone) who's been affected by breast cancer. This is another way to get involved, and I'm all over it. If you have two X chromosomes, please think about signing up.

Grinchtacular

2008-10-22T09:28:00.003-05:00

Say it ain't so, Santa!

Anna and Tessa have never visited any Santa but this one, and he's the best Santa I've ever encountered. It's a silly thing, probably, but I've been more than happy to drive the extra few miles to visit this guy over the one in our closer-to-home mall. I was already looking forward to this year's visit, as Mr. Graham is a delight with the kids. I tried to call Tysons this morning to register displeasure, but the lines are busy. Go figure.

Powerful Stuff.

2008-10-20T14:10:00.003-05:00

Look, I know that by letting a few of my political rantings and ravings slip through here, I'm going against my intention for what this blog would be - basically, a chronicle of the girls' lives seen through the filter of their mom. But as this election approaches, I have realized something.

I voted in the last Presidential election when Anna was a mere 6 weeks old. We walked over to our polling location and waited in line for a long time, but my vote was important to me. Four years and another beautiful daughter later, there's more going on in my head this time around. My vote isn't just for me anymore. It's for Anna and Tessa, too. With every attempt not to be cliched about this, I honestly feel that I'm voting for their future, their well-being, their prosperity. I'm not so naive as to think that one change in the administration will bring all this about, but I do believe that we're on the cusp of something huge here. I also believe that the fork in the road offers two pretty distinct choices.

Something I read today nailed it for me. I'm probably preaching to the choir for most of the people who read my ramblings, and no-one reading this will be surprised to hear that I support Barack Obama over John McCain for a whole host of reasons. But this, by way of Dooce, put one of those reasons into perfect focus. I couldn't have said it any better myself, I'm glad I don't have the personal experience of this writer to need to say it, and I hope with every fiber of my being that my girls never have the need for this argument.

That's enough out of me. Be well.

Dear Anna: Four Years

2008-10-16T14:10:00.010-05:00

Dear Anna,

Last month, you turned four years old. Four years old! In all likelihood, you'll be in kindergarten this time next year, a fact that comes pretty close to blowing my mind. But I'm not writing to tell you how the last four years have gone faster than I'd ever have imagined. Or to elaborate on your many developments - new skills, new understandings. These things will all likely become evident as I write, instead, about your birthday celebrations.

Heaven forbid you have just one - no! We began with a party with your class at school on your actual birthday. The in-house cook pulled together brownies, ice cream, and lemonade for your class (and Tessa, who was delighted by the ice cream cup). Your school has a strict nut-free policy, and, rather than ban parents from bringing in various treats that may or may not have bumped into a peanut at some point, they've instituted a party-planning service of sorts within the school's kitchen. It's great and makes planning a low-key celebration for 30 preschoolers - dare I say? - manageable.

So Daddy and I added on party hats and pinwheel favors and - voila! - instant birthday party. You, as the fortunate birthday girl, were the recipient of - not a brownie (although you ate one of those anyway) - but a giant cookie with sprinkles! Even you couldn't finish it.

A few days later, with Grandma C. in town, we went to your party at the local bounce house. You were joined by some friends (a few from school, a few not) and spent a very happy couple of hours bouncing and sliding and wearing yourself out before being ushered into the Party Room for pizza and cake. The cake design was a closely-guarded secret, and you were delighted to see Ariel smiling coyly up at you, complete with a few candles sticking out of her hair.

The Party Room is quite the scene. There's a long table where the kids congregate for their pizza and cake, and every child seems magnetically drawn there when they get into the room, despite the large throne also in the room. Yes, the throne. It's the seat of honor for the birthday child at various points during the party, and it dwarfs most honorees, no matter how much cake they eat.

That same evening, we corralled your gifts so you could bury yourself in a frenzy of wrapping paper and celebrated once more, at home, with just the 'rents, Tessa, and Grandma C. I think your favorite gift was the stuffed Dumbo - and his pal Timothy T. Mouse - the first present you specifically requested when quizzed ahead of time about your birthday gift desires. After the Great Present Unveiling, we had a (relatively) quiet dinner together. And, yes, I made the homemade cake for that dinner.

I love this cake, and there remains something meaningful and important to me in baking you a birthday cake. I wouldn't want to bake one for a bazillion screaming 4-year-olds. I wouldn't want to transport one from home to the location of your party and risk its destruction at the hands of one hard stop.

But I do love the mechanics of this project - starting up the mixer, pulling out the cake pans, enjoying the cake smell that pervades the house while it's in the oven, whipping up the frosting, and icing the cooled product. All this is truly done out of immense love for you. It's been so since your first birthday, and I imagine it will be so for many birthdays to come, certainly well past the point when it's cool to have your mom make your birthday cake, pink sprinkles or not.

Love,
Mama

Dear Tessa: Unbirthday

2008-10-10T09:49:00.010-05:00

Dear Tessa,

Your big sister turned four years old a few weeks ago. You're just old enough to get involved with celebrations and just young enough not to care that you aren't the center of the party and the one getting all the presents. My best guess is that this will last approximately another two months, just in time for you to share in the Christmas explosion of wrapping paper and your second birthday less than two months later.

You attended Anna's birthday parties at school (brownies, ice cream, and party hats - hooray!) and at the local bounce place, where we entertained a smaller group of sugar-fed four-year-olds for a few hours. You were the consummate guest - riding the slide with Daddy or me, not planting your sweet little fist into the Ariel cake we procured for Anna's delight, and then shoveling cake and frosting in like a pro.

In other news, you started coming home from day care with fine little geysers of ponytails on your head. Two, with an immaculate part between them. I'll admit this hit me where my mommy inadequacy resides, so I took up the task as well. Your hair grew in very differently than your sister's; you both had fine, silky baby hair that came in blonde with just a hint of strawberry. Anna's came in over her face, rendering her a tiny Cousin It by the time she was 14 months old. We've been on regular haircuts ever since. Your hair grew down the back, leaving your face unobscured, and I will resist your first haircut as long as humanly possible.

I've since learned that the perfect part produced at day care is the result of your hairdresser getting your hair damp first - it's just too fine to actually part cleanly otherwise - which makes me feel a little better. There was that one morning when I got your little fountains installed while you were fully on the move. I was so proud of myself but was dismayed to learn later that, when Daddy picked you up at day care, the teachers asked him with raised eyebrows whether he had done your hair that morning. Now I try to catch you when you're having breakfast in your high chair.

You're almost 20 months old. You'll be two before I know what happened, and the last vestiges of this baby stage will be gone. I feel every day like I'm trying to grasp onto a stream of water in wishing I could make this last longer. Even though I know how much fun stuff is yet to come - Anna is walking, talking, singing proof of that - I am so afraid of forgetting what a joy it has been to raise you even just to this point in your life. I know the finer details will inevitably slip away over time, but I don't think I'll ever have to reach very far to remember the absolute delight.

Love,
Mama

Dear Anna: Dancing Queen

2008-09-25T14:13:00.009-05:00

Dear Anna,

In the interest of seeing if you can focus and follow directions in an artistic setting for 45 minutes and of seeing if you like it at all (or if we should give up entirely and go for rumblin' tumblin' gymnastics), we enrolled you in a Tiny Tu-Tus "ballet" class at one of the county rec centers; it began earlier this month. You had the privilege of missing the second class for your birthday party (more on that in another letter), but the first class was, well, interesting.

You were all about your beautiful ballerina outfit. You were so excited to go to ballerina class. You're even still excited about going to ballerina class, despite your experience of the first class. Mistake #1 - we arrived too early. You were pasted to the window of the class studio, watching the younger set in their class, all the while getting antsier and antsier about starting your class. Mistake #2 - we did not plan on a substantial snack before your class. Your class that begins at 12noon. You were famished and none too pleased about it. You didn't realize in the moment that you were hungry; you just knew you weren't about to follow all those directions and fall in line with the other teeny ballerinas.

Oh, you started out just fine. Cute personified, raising your arms up and turning around. I watched from outside the studio - your first such activity without parent participation! But as the class wore on, you petered out. By the end of the class, while the other wee tufts of pink were happily dancing around holding hands in a circle, you were firmly planted on the floor, away from the circle, glaring at me through the window as though you were a caged animal at the zoo.

Grandma is bringing you to your class on Saturday, and Daddy and I are loading her up with tips. Get there just in time. Give her a Lunchable in the car, or she might eat a ballerina. Try not to watch the full class from the other side of the window - she can sense your fear. I do think it'll be just fine - really, I do. And hey, if you don't like this one, we'll try something else in the spring. Something tells me you'd love to do somersaults for 45 minutes straight.

As a complete aside, I have to show you this picture. In the midst of your various Disney obsessions, you've become a big fan of Peter Pan. I'm shocked at the movie every time we watch it, particularly at the now-considered-appalling portrayals of Native Americans (whom you refer to as the "scary sweethearts" - ??). But you love the adventure and the villainy and the crocodile and Michael's little teddy bear. I took this picture one evening right after you watched the movie and right before you went to bed.

The movie ends with a cloud version of the pirate ship, now under Peter's command, sailing away past the moon, and, in this picture, you are ardently searching the skies outside our house for the ship. You're going to lose so many of these flights of fancy and magical beliefs, but I hope you're always looking for the ship in the sky.

Love,
Mama

Dear Tessa: Not one little bit reticent

2008-09-25T12:58:00.010-05:00

Dear Tessa,

Well, my sweet girl, you are talking. You are pointing out anything and everything that crosses your path as well as many things that don't. You began around 15 months with simple wordlike creations (still not sure how I feel about "mama" for "banana"), and now, four months later, you can create simple sentences and could land a talking head job on CNN for your running commentaries on all things great and small.

You're signing a bit, too, mostly at mealtimes, but your signs for "more" and "please" largely complement the words you've developed out of them ("mo" and "peezh"). You repeat absolutely everything, and it only takes one or two practice runs before you can pretty well count a word as part of your vocabulary.
Animals are high on the list of your words. One of your favorite books is That's Not My Monkey, which we scored on a recent outing to the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. Your representation of the title goes something like "At Ott I Ukkey!" When we ask you where the mouse is (a wee white mouse, friend to monkeys, makes an appearance on each page), you sometimes point, sometimes don't, but you always say, "Eeeshhaaa!" Which we take to mean, "It's there!" or "I see it!" or "Why are you wasting my time with such trivial matters as finding a mouse in a book? Good God, woman, don't you know there's a financial crisis on?"

Other words have caused Raised Eyebrow Syndrome in older strangers and Knowing Smile Syndrome in other parents of toddlers. "Ocean" comes out quite clearly as "Oh Shit," and that's all there is to say about that. Except that we are working on "sea" instead of "ocean" whenever possible until your pronunciation clears this one up a bit.

You can accurately answer most "yes" and "no" questions and haven't yet fallen into the preschooler (ahem, Anna) trap of giving false answers so as to confuse and disorient your parents. You love saying "yeah!" as though this proposition is just the best idea since nightlights. Sometimes you start in on a hearty "yeah!" and then realize that, no, you actually don't want an apple, so the answer is a delightful, "Yeaa---! Noo."

When we're reading, you like to point back and forth at various pictures - one of your favorites for this is the last page of The Going to Bed Book. The last page reads, "The moon is high; the sea is deep. They rock and rock and rock to sleep." When I'm done reading that line, you point from the moon to the boat to the sea to the air to the stars to the moon to the boat to the moon to the boat to the sea...you get the idea. And each time you point, you stop and wait for me to name that at which you're pointing. I can almost see the sponge that is your language development center soaking these labelings up, and, sure enough, out come the words shortly thereafter.

You have some extremely particular pronunciations, which probably come from our own emphasis of words we very much want you to understand. One especial favorite is "hot," which comes out with an exaggerated beginning "h" and an exclamation point of a final "t." You're getting the concept, too, which is the whole point, but it's adorable to see you lean over something at your high chair, look up at me, and slowly exclaim, "HhhoT." "Hat" gets a similar treatment, although, to be sure, the dangers inherent in your millinery aren't so great as those in an overheated batch of mac and cheese.

Lately, you've added your own name to your ever-expanding mix of words - you've answered to it for some time, but now you can label yourself: "Tesshha." You also label your most favorite possessions: "doggie" (one of the first and probably the favorite), "pashi" (paci, for pacifier, for those who prefer the "binky" terminology), and "Arieooo" (translated: Ariel, the Little Mermaid - she's your faaaavorite).

I haven't heard you talk about your toddler room classmates yet, but Anna is still "Amma," and you are most put out if she is not present for your amusement when you wake up or when we pick you up at day care. Daddy is now "Daddy" (he'll be the first to tell you that took forever), and I am Mommeeeee, which suits me just fine. You call out to us in delight when we arrive to claim you from your crib in the morning or at the end of a day care day, but it isn't until we arrive home or the restaurant or wherever we're going that it seems to sink in that we're all together, and you exclaim, very much in the tone of one making introductions in a group, "Amma! Daddy. Mommmeeeee." It's a lovely way to be rounded up at the end of the day.

Love,
Mama

2008-09-12T14:29:00.002-05:00

When the highlight of your day is a new mousepad, perhaps it's time to go home.

It is a nice mousepad.

Dear Anna: SING, Sing out LOUD...

2008-09-09T10:16:00.004-05:00

Dear Anna,

It will come, perhaps, as no surprise to people who know your mama that you are becoming quite the little singer. You sing everywhere - to your stuffed friends at naptime and bedtime, in the bathtub, at meals, in the car - you name it, you've sung there. Your songs are often ones you've learned at school or at home, but you also make up songs that sound remarkably like chanted liturgy - little recitatives about your activities and surroundings:

I am a baby puppy
I am playing at the pool with Tessa
Puppies play at the pool
Puppies eat canteloupe and
Puppies take baths with Tessas

You have your favorite learned songs, too, most of which are by a certain Ralph Covert, of Ralph's World fame for others in the children's music know. Ralph's songs are catchy and fun, and you're very concerned that we all have our favorites. Yours is a song called Surfin' in My Imagination. I know this because each time we get a couple of tracks from it in the car, you announce that when Surfin' comes on, you will sing Very Loud. And you do, especially on the little Beach Boys-esque vocal riff in each chorus.

You've had a few group performances - this summer's "Academy Awards" at school saw your class perform a rousing rendition of Down by the Bay. At the end of each verse, a few kids hollered out their assigned silly lines (Did you ever see a snake baking a cake?! Down by the BAY!). You got so caught up in the singing that you missed your shout-out line, and when the song was over, you were positively distraught, insisting, "They forgot me!" Oh, my little diva, you sounded beautiful to me - I heard every note.

I love that you can sing on key at this young age. I love that you learn lyrics and melodies so easily. I love that you make up your own narrative tunes. But more than these talents, I love that you love music. It's such a huge joy in my life that I could never quite imagine it not being one in yours, too. To each her own, of course, but I am over the moon every time I hear you singing a song to your little sister, or just to yourself.

Love,
Mama

For the record...

2008-09-04T22:26:00.002-05:00

It's been an honor and a delight watching The Daily Show's coverage of the conventions. This shouldn't surprise me in the least, but it's been just lovely. I'm currently an especially big fan of Samantha Bee's "choice" piece at the Republican convention.

And to pull from a comment I heard on NPR today, how is it that the "fake news" is the only broadcast of note to go side-by-side and back-to-back with footage of one person making completely contradictory remarks on central issues (Bill O'Reilly, I'm looking at you! Among others.)? It might be the sheer entertainment value that keeps it off the "real news," but it's some of the most telling footage I've seen through this seemingly-interminable campaign season.

Finally, let's hear it for the community organizers out there. Think you were unsung before? Hmm...

Moot Point

2008-09-03T18:34:00.004-05:00

So, Sarah Palin. Do I really have to spell this one out? I didn't vote for Hillary Clinton over Barack Obama because of Senator Clinton's gender. I voted for Senator Obama for my own, internally-thought-out reasons, reasons with which I'm very comfortable. I'm not voting for McCain-Palin over Obama-Biden because the GOP claims to have forged ahead and shattered the glass ceiling. Last time I checked, Governor Palin stands on the opposite side of virtually every issue I hold dear - censorship, the right to choose (And can we please stop calling this pro-life and anti-abortion? I don't know anyone who's actually anti-life and pro-abortion. Let's call it what it is - pro-choice and anti-choice. Thanks.), thorough sex education for our kids in their schools, and the list goes on. Nothing on that list has a damned thing to do with her family, her choices in raising her family (there but for the grace of whatever you believe in go I), or the choices her family makes.

So let's be clear. Should McCain-Palin gain the White House in November, I will not be taking one iota of comfort or joy in the fact that a woman has attained the vice-presidency. I will be working counter to McCain-Palin's every move against my personal freedoms and those of my daughters.

Terror

2008-07-14T13:36:00.003-05:00

Terror is getting a call at work from the babysitter taking care of your nearly-17-month-old daughter telling you that the toddler fell while loping around the kitchen, whacked the back of her head, and is now uncharacteristically drowsy and loopy. And not crying. Further terror is making the 20-30 minute drive home without the cell phone that died the day before, not knowing what your husband has now heard from the pediatrician about whether or not you'll be breaking for the ER when you get home.

Immense relief is getting home and finding your wee daughter laughing and playing her usual games, using all her words, walking steadily, and eating normally. Our babysitter (my boss's daughter! In for a temporary gig this month) handled everything beautifully, and all Ascos are breathing a big sigh of relief. Mr. Asco also came home to see Tessa's normalized state for himself. I stayed home long enough to see Tessa through lunch, read her a story, and put her down for a nap about an hour and a half after the bonk. The sitter will be peeking in on her periodically during naptime and will call me back when she's awake later.

I think my heart rate is back to something resembling normal now.

Pet Peeve

2008-07-13T22:54:00.002-05:00

In the world of Freecycle:

When Mr. Asco and I have done a major housecleaning, and I do a huge set of offer posts to Freecycle in an effort to give away things we're no longer using (or, really, never used), I really hate when someone who doesn't get something writes back to question my deciding to give something to someone else. It's FREE STUFF, people. Come ON. Get a little more trigger-happy on the send button, or just realize that you're not going to "win" every race to the poster's inbox. Sheesh.

Dear Tessa: Master & Commander

2008-07-11T13:21:00.006-05:00

Dear Tessa,

Somehow, it's been two months since I dropped you a line here, and I have to admit - a lot of that time has been spent simply keeping up with you. The last time I wrote to you, you'd just started walking. You haven't looked back since, and now you're starting to express yourself as you cruise around the house.

Your earliest words include "Mommy" (spoken as "Mum-meeeeeee"), "mine," "apple," "Elmo," "doggie," and "Emma" (for Anna). I didn't realize what an emotional whallop it would be for me to hear you call your sister's name. You adore Anna, even when she's doing her utmost to keep you away from a toy or book she's temporarily claimed as her own. When you see her after a long day, or see a picture of her, you point, light up, laugh, and call your version of her name. And she hugs you and kisses you, and I think, there just isn't anything else in the whole world as sweet as this.

Look at you - you're walking with so much confidence. You're talking and even signing a bit to fill in the gaps where you don't yet have the words. But you're still my sweet baby with that round face and those impossibly airy curls at the back of your head. You won't be at this in-between stage for long, and I'm trying to drink up every bit.

Love,
Mama

Dear Anna: Lassoing the Moon

2008-05-11T21:32:00.004-05:00

Dear Anna,

Sometimes the simplest moments come together with your developing understanding of the world and your uniquely three-year-old way of expressing yourself, and the result is so precious and perfect that I couldn't have possibly scripted it any better.

A couple of nights ago, we came home from an evening out. It was past your bedtime, but you were in pretty good spirits, albeit a bit tired. It had rained for much of the day, but the late afternoon and evening were gloriously clear, sunny, and warm. You ducked into the house from the front step, then turned and came back out to admire the moon. "It's a ham moon," you said, referring to the fact that when you take a bit out of the little round piece of ham in your on-the-go snack, the remaining bit looks like a crescent moon.

Then you said, "I will catch the moon when it comes down behind the houses. Before the sun comes up, I will catch the moon when it comes down." And time slowed down for just that minute and let me appreciate you in all your perfect knowledge and optimism. It let me hold that moment up against the life on which you're embarking, a life in which I know you will catch the moon and do amazing things with it.

Love,
Mama

Dear Tessa: Look Who's Walking

2008-05-05T14:21:00.005-05:00

Dear Tessa,

Well, there it is! You took your first steps for us on Saturday, April 26th. You've been cruising with very little support for some time, but crawling is still your preferred method of getting from point A to point B. I think you stepped almost inadvertently - you were standing unsupported and seemed to forget that you were upright.

So off you toddled for a few steps before realizing your state and pitching over. Fortunately, you're still pretty low to the ground and replete with natural padding, so these topplings aren't too distressing unless you hit something (like the coffee table) on your way down.

Way to go, little walker! We'll really be chasing you soon...

Love,
Mama

The 2007 Book List

2008-04-13T22:51:00.003-05:00

I am SO late in putting this list up. It's been sitting on my desktop since the end of the year. The delay has nothing to do with the fact that I didn't actually make 50 books last year, really. I came close, though, and I'm still pretty proud of the list I compiled last year, especially given the arrival of one sweet little baby Tessa and the continuation of two salaried jobs. People, it's a wonder I read anything but street signs. Without further ado, here's the list. My favorites are in bold.

1. Angry Housewives Eating Bonbons – Lorna Landvik
2. The Guy Not Taken – Jennifer Weiner
3. The Golden Compass – Philip Pullman
4. Ruby in the Smoke – Philip Pullman
5. Shadow in the North – Philip Pullman
6. Little Women – Louisa May Alcott (re-read)
7. March – Geraldine Brooks
8. The Known World – Edward P. Jones
9. Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
10. Fever Pitch – Nick Hornby
11. The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency – Alexander McCall Smith (re-read)
12. Tiger in the Well – Philip Pullman
13. Out to Canaan – Jan Karon
14. How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk – Adele Faber & Elaine Mazlish
15. A New Song – Jan Karon
16. In This Mountain – Jan Karon
17. The Other Boleyn Girl – Philippa Gregory
18. Getting a Life: Stories – Helen Simpson
19. A Year of Wonders – Geraldine Brooks
20. B is for Burglar – Sue Grafton
21. The Sunday Philosophy Club – Alexander McCall Smith
22. A Death in Belmont – Sebastian Junger
23. True History of the Kelly Gang – Peter Carey
24. Tears of the Giraffe – Alexander McCall Smith
25. Stardust – Neil Gaiman
26. A Piece of Normal – Sandi Kahn Shelton
27. Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – JK Rowling (re-read)
28. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – JK Rowling
29. Baby Proof – Emily Giffin
30. Morality for Beautiful Girls – Alexander McCall Smith
31. Summer at Tiffany – Marjorie Hart
32. Veil of Roses – Laura Fitzgerald
33. The Kalahari Typing School for Men – Alexander McCall Smith
34. The Full Cupboard of Life – Alexander McCall Smith
35. The Big Rumpus – Ayun Halliday
36. In the Company of Cheerful Ladies – Alexander McCall Smith
37. Blue Shoes and Happiness – Alexander McCall Smith
38. Eat, Pray, Love – Elizabeth Gilbert
39. The Good Husband of Zebra Drive – Alexander McCall Smith
40. The Sunflower – Simon Wiesenthal
41. The Dispossessed – Ursula K. LeGuin
42. To Feel Stuff – Andrea Seigel
43. The Fourth Bear – Jasper Fforde
44. The Spiderwick Chronicles Book One: The Field Guide – Holly Black
45. The Stupidest Angel – Christopher Moore
46. The Birth of Venus – Sarah Dunant
47. Winkie – Clifford Chase

I'm behind the pace for 2008 so far, too, but I'm confident...

Dear Anna: Butterflies

2008-04-13T21:14:00.006-05:00

Dear Anna,

Today, we went the National Museum of Natural History because we wanted you - little miss butterfly princess herself - to see the real live butterflies flying around the museum's special exhibit. You were the very picture of patience as we waited to enter the walk-through butterfly house. Before we went in, an entymologist briefed us on the house - careful where you step, don't try to touch the butterflies, etc. In we all went, and the display didn't disappoint. You were enthralled by the vast numbers of butterflies, their pretty colors, and their equally colorful environment.

Until.

One butterfly flew your way and landed right on your face. It was the first time in your whole life I have heard you scream in fear, and your little face was all saucers for eyes and terror as you grabbed on to me. I knelt down by you and told you that the nice butterfly had just wanted to give you a kiss and didn't mean to scare you. You were not entirely convinced.

But, later, you acknowledged that, yes, the butterfly did kiss you, and it was a little scary, but you were okay. And then you ate an enormous butterfly cookie, which may or may not have been a warning to butterflies to watch where they land next time.

Love,
Mama

Dear Anna & Tessa!

2008-04-13T21:11:00.003-05:00

Dear Anna and Tessa,

Well, my beloved girls, I'm changing up the way I write to you. Here's the deal. I work on keeping lists of all the cool stuff you do month-to-month (quarter-to-quarter for Anna) and then try to recall every last little bit when I write your letters. Anna's last letter was such a huge challenge because there was just so much to tell. So from here on out, I'm off a schedule. I'm going to write to one or both of you when events warrant and when the mood strikes. As a result, I think you'll find much shorter letters, yes, but also letters that contain more detail about what I'm trying to capture for you. I hope this works for you!

Love,
Mama

Dear Anna: Month 42

2008-03-30T19:53:00.013-05:00

Dear Anna,

When I decided I would write you a letter every three months instead of every month, I thought I was doing myself a favor - that it would be easier to keep up somehow. Ha! You are a constant whirlwind of activity and change and funny stories, and I can barely remember every little thing long enough to jot it down on my list for your letter. (You'll only wear dresses. You love blueberries and Welch's Fruit Snacks and ice cream. You can write your name and Tessa's. You're putting more words together. You're figuring out child-proofing devices. Ack!) But, nonetheless, here we go. You turned three and a half earlier this month, and you are ever more an independent-minded, crazy, wonderful little person.

For the first time, you've started consistently testing the limits of bedtime. We tend to allow you some activity post lights-out (well, not the butterfly night-light), but your recent ventures have gone everywhere from bouncing off the walls - quite literally - to reading out loud to your stuffed animals to banging on the door to be escorted to the potty. We tried allowing you free egress for a while, but we started to worry about wearing out the hinge on your door after the first few nights. We might be getting there again soon, though, as you've made incredible strides in your potty-training and can now do everything start to finish on your own.

These past few months marked an entry into food projects, largely centered around holidays. Our busy weeks don't translate to you helping to make dinner (although you're very helpful about bringing your plate to the sink when you're done!). We did make some cut-out Christmas cookies and decorate them, and just a couple of weeks ago you helped dye your first batch of Easter eggs. We talked about what colors you liked and which colors could be combined to make new colors, and you put stickers and drawings all over our beautiful eggs, which we then displayed on the kitchen table in a round vase, where you can always see the egg with your name on it.

You received a kid-friendly digital camera for Christmas and have been a little household paparazzi every time you take it out. It was pure magic to you at the beginning - you would take a picture, pause, look at the screen, and chuckle to yourself, "There you are..." It would be downright creepy if you weren't three and having such a good time.

Music is becoming a bigger part of your life. You've always enjoyed it, but lately it's become painfully obvious that you have a good ear for lyrics and melodies. It started innocently enough with our playing at the piano. I showed you the A-G scale, and you were adamant that H still came after G, even on a piano. We sorted that out, and you can generally plunk out A through G and then begin at A again, occasionally even on the right keys. Sundays generally find me singing with our church chorale, and you are a bit of a mascot, sitting with the group during warm-ups before going to your preschool class. A few weeks ago, as you were settling into your Sunday afternoon nap, I heard you singing to yourself and realized after a moment that you were replicating our warm-up scales.

But by far the most entertaining aspect of your newfound vocal skills is hearing you sing songs you've come across during your day, either during dance time at school or while riding in the car with Daddy or me. You're too young to know what some of the more complex lyrics mean. When you sing, "L is for the way you look at me, O is for the only one I see..." or "It's all right, I'll be fine, don't worry about this heart of mine, just take your love and hit the road," there's some sense that you might know what's going on there. But when you came out with "Them baggy sweatpants, Reeboks with the straps, she turned around and gave that big booty a smack, she hit the floor, next thing you know, Shawty got low low low low low low low," I was ever so grateful that we can move on from this song without your ever comprehending its actual meaning. And yes, for the record, I'm far more amused than mortified.

Beyond singing, you're talking a blue streak. You run a constant narration of everything around you, and the turns of phrase you've adopted are really cute and often very funny. For a while, I became "mimama," and you figured out how to keep me close at bedtime with a well-placed "Don't go, Mommy!" At school, your teachers tell you that you are great and fine, and we've adopted this as well. You tell us, though, that you are just fine and that it's your best friend Nora who is great. When you're putting on your shoes, you'll start to put a shoe on a foot, pause, and ask, "Yes? Or no?" You sound like a tiny Heidi Klum. Here's a sampling of other things you've said I don't ever want to forget:

"Oh, that's not good..."
"The blueberry is nice and juicy, Mama?"
"We have to go to the drunk store." (CVS - the drug store)
"I used to nurse on Mama but I'm a big girl now." (to whomever will listen)
"Nufting." (translated - Nothing)

Your pretend play has taken off, too. You transform in a moment to whatever captures your fancy. Lately, this is either a doggy, a butterfly, a fairy, or a princess - or some combination thereof. You now accessorize to play the part, too. When your father and I went away for a weekend trip recently, you requested that we bring you back a butterfly ring, presumably so you could better be the butterfly. I found you a princess crown at Target not too long ago; when you put it on, you decided you needed to see the effect in the mirror. To say you were over the moon about the effect would be a complete understatement. You've gotten into the classic (old and new) Disney movies big time; your favorites are The Little Mermaid, Peter Pan, and 101 Dalmatians. No wonder - princess, fairy, doggy...there they all are.

You adore your little sister. In case you're reading this at a time when you find her the very bane of your adolescent existence, let me assure you that there was a time when you would make every effort to make her laugh when she was sad, kiss her good-bye at day care, and hug her to within an inch of her life. Some of this affection seems to be a generalized baby effect, though; when you visit Tessa's room at school, you will often go around hugging and kissing all the babies. Aggressively, enthusiastically hugging and kissing all the babies. Until they fall over and cry, on occasion. Tessa's used to your advances, and she loves it. No-one can make her laugh the way you can, and I hope - as I have since the day I knew you would have a little sister - that this is the foundation for a life of closeness. You are one incredibly sweet little kid, with a heart of gold that I see on a daily basis, and anyone in your path is better for having been mauled by you.

Love,
Mama

Dear Tessa: Month 13

2008-03-25T13:21:00.010-05:00

Dear Tessa:

Earlier this month, you turned thirteen months old. You're a solid one-year-old, although most other parents of wee ones who ask how old you are reel back at the response and say something along the lines of, "Really?! My seven- (ten-, four-...) month-old is already as big as she is!" You might be little, but you pack a punch. You're loud and proud, and you'll tell anyone who cares to listen all about your baby views.

I expect you'll be walking soon. Up until very recently, you were content to cruise and then drop to a mile-a-minute crawl to get to your next destination. Lately, though, you've been taking more liberties with your mobility. You'll cruise one-handed, and you'll allow me to hold your hands while you step along. You have that stepping thing down pat. Sometimes, you'll be doing your one-handed cruise, and you'll let go and stand independently for just a second or two. In that second, you're like Wile E. Coyote after the motor dies on his flying contraption. You're blissfully oblivious of your unsupported state, then the realization kicks in, your face changes just a bit, and down you go to sitting or crawling.

You're talking a blue streak and experimenting with the sounds that come out of your mouth. You figured out about making bubbles and also about the sound that comes out when you flip your tongue across your teeth. Your best word right now is "Uh-oh!" This is also your favorite game; your big sister shows infinitely more patience with you on this one than your parents do... You can somewhat reliably say "doggy" and "daddy," but we're not sure there's much of a difference in your mind at this point. Once in a while, you toss a "mama" my way, but I think your comprehension still outstrips your expression by a mile, and I don't take it personally when you call the Cheerios "mama."

What I also don't take personally (much) is that you're weaning yourself, a bit earlier than I'd have preferred. I know this means you're getting what you need elsewhere, and you're doing just fine - and that I can still be so proud we went over a year - but I will miss this. I still give the nursing thing a shot on a daily basis, but, more often than not now, I get nipped for my trouble. The one in four or five times that you snuggle in for a nursing session, though, keep me going. I think I could stop offering entirely without offending you, but I'm just not quite there yet. It makes me a little sad that you're ready before I am to call it a day there, but I love seeing you dive in and try new foods with all those new teeth, too.

I also love seeing you start to enact things you've seen done through your play. Anything that remotely looks like a phone (play phone, remote control) becomes that thing we talk into for you - you hold it up to your ear and babble away. The box of musical toys is one of your favorites to pull off the shelf. You're becoming quite accomplished on the harmonica, but I was so proud of you the day you figured out how the kazoo works. Watching you play a triangle by banging it on the floor is my reality check when I start thinking you're the second coming of Mozart.

As much as I try to keep you from seeing television, some exposure is inevitable with a three-year-old in the house. For the most part, you just don't seem to care about what Anna's watching. But last week, Anna opted for an episode of Johnny and the Sprites. You took one look at those furry little muppets, and you were a goner. If I guess at a translation for your babbling: "Whoa! That thing is little! And round! And fuzzy! And a pretty color! And it sings! There's another one! There are ten more! Whoa! There's a bigger one! With antennae! Did you know about this?!" That last is the part where you turned around while still pointing at the screen and babbled at me with such incredulity that I lost it on the spot.

On a more serious note, we were in a minor car accident this month. Someone sideswiped us after hitting another car and did the most serious damage to the door right next to your car seat. You were asleep at the point of the impact, and the first thing I heard after the collision was you screaming. In that instant, my heart dropped right out of my body. I don't even remember getting out of the car and opening the door behind me to get to you, but I know I'd have torn it off if I had to. As soon as you saw me, you calmed down considerably. I got you out of your seat and could see immediately that you were okay. I watched you for days for any signs of trauma and saw none. For all the inconvenience this accident has caused, I'd triple it or more if it meant you would still come out of it unscathed. So for every time you bite me when you don't want to nurse, or wake up in the middle of the night despite sleeping through most other nights, or throw your sippy cup to the floor for the tenth time at dinner, thank you. You're exactly who you should be, exactly as you should be, and far beyond what I dreamed you would be.

Love,
Mama

For the Record

2008-03-05T15:27:00.004-05:00

Something's been bugging me for a couple of days now. In the lead-up to Tuesday's primaries, I saw a lot of news coverage, largely about the two Democratic candidates for President. That's not what's been bugging me.

One news story covered a specific group of Clinton supporters - all were women in their fiftues or sixties. As they talked about why they were supporting Senator Clinton, one expressed her dismay at the lack of support for Senator Clinton by younger women. She felt that younger women were not supporting a female Presidential candidate because younger women had not been in the trenches for women's rights and therefore didn't understand how much it took to get a woman to the point where she could be a serious contender for the highest political office in the country.

Hang on.

First, wasn't the whole point that we womenfolk would actually get to decide for ourselves where we would throw our political support rather than falling in line with what someone else told us we should think? I don't much care who's doing the dictating - I don't care for it no matter the source.

Second, have we really come so far that we can be considered out of the trenches? How many nursing moms do you know who got more than a few dirty looks for feeding her baby in public (count me among them). How about the abysmal state of maternity leave policies in the U.S.? I'm not going to turn this into a full-blown rant on those (and plenty of other) issues, as much as I'd be happy to do so, as it takes me away from my point.

And my point is simply that, while I appreciate how far our society has come and value every opportunity I have as a result of the hard work done by many before me, I think we still have miles to go. And I will make up my own mind, thank you very much, as to which candidate I find best able to lead us there. My candidate might be the one these ladies were espousing, or perhaps not, but he or she is just that - my candidate, of my own determination.

Dear Tessa: Month 12

2008-02-26T09:06:00.011-05:00

Dear Tessa,

Ten days ago, you turned one year old. I've been meaning to sit down and write you this letter since that day, but two things, I think, are intervening. First, part of me just isn't ready to admit that you're a whole year old already and that your babyhood is slipping away from me. Every day with you is more fun than the one before, but I am certainly feeling nostalgic for your teeny-tiny days. Second, you're moving so fast that I need all my energy to keep up with you! And when you finally call it a night, I'm ready to crawl into that crib with you and knock out several hours of sleep, too.

When last I wrote, you were still resisting a full night's sleep (to be nice about it). Daddy and I decided that you would probably be better served by missing the bathtime with Anna you so enjoy (we'll bring it back, I promise) and going to bed earlier. So you and I started a new routine of washing your face, "brushing" your now-ten teeth, reading a story, and nursing. Now it's clockwork: halfway through nursing, you sit up and rub your eyes. We switch sides, and when you're done, you claim your paci and arch a bit for your crib. In you go, and you roll right over, hugging in your little doggie blanket. I set the sleep timer on your iPod (kids today), and you're out within seconds. The first few nights we did this, you woke up a few hours later and fussed yourself back to sleep. Then you woke up again between 3 and 4am, and I fed you; you'd then go back to sleep for a couple of hours. A few days in, you dropped that first waking. A few days after that, you dropped all the wakings. A normal night for you now consists of going to bed by 7pm and waking up between 5 and 6am. You have become a solid sleeper, and I think I now just have to find a way to go to bed at 7:30pm to take full advantage.

You started doing some really cool stuff this month. You figured out how to make kissing sounds, and you love doing this to elicit the same from Daddy, Anna, and me. You play a mean game of peek-a-boo, and your laugh has developed into such a rollicking expression of pure joy that it ranks as one of my favorite sounds of all time. Anna can make you laugh at the drop of a hat, just about, and we use her shamelessly when we need to focus your attention while we change your diaper (ever more of a challenge as you refuse to settle for being still). You started singing this month, too! You arrived home from day care one day, crooning "E-I-E-I-aaaahhhh" to anyone who would listen. And your babbling sounds ever more like actual speech as you play with new consonants and combinations. It won't surprise me one bit to hear your first true word any day now, especially with Anna talking a blue streak at you.

Your favorite toy at the moment appears to be one that you haven't figure out how to operate yet - the jack-in-the-box. The first time I wound it up for you, you didn't have a clue what was coming, and you about jumped out of your skin when the pop topped. As we continued to show it to you, you smiled, sang, and bounced along with the music and still started every time the little clown popped out for you. Now, as soon as the clown is out, you grin at us and look expectantly back at the little guy for a repeat performance. You've tried working the handle yourself - you understand what needs to happen, but your motor skills haven't caught up with your brain on that one yet. Once that happens, I'll never get "Pop! Goes the Weasel" out of my head, or the house.

Table food has opened up a whole new world for you. Not long after my last letter, you began to flat-out refuse to eat jarred baby food. Organic or not, I can't say that I blame you. So we packed the remaining jars and baby oatmeal out to a local family shelter and dove headlong into the world of "real" food. You started in on yogurt, which might be your favorite thing since, well, me. I'm buying three six-packs a week of the stuff, and you're taking them down. You'll try anything, and most things seem to be going over pretty well. You love spaghetti and Annie's mac & cheese, and you're doing really well with the little mixed veggies we pile into the mac and cheese. Cheerios are a mainstay, and you pop them with abandon - and feed them to me, too. You're also a huge fan of the microwaved frozen pancake. Soft, delicious, and easy to manipulate - it's right in your wheelhouse. I can give you one in the car and not find a single crumb when we reach our destination.

But the best would have to be, of course, birthday cake. We cheated with you, and you had some cake before your actual first birthday cake. That just served to make you a pro when the real deal showed up along with a bunch of singing grandparents and a big "1" candle your sister couldn't wait to extinguish for you. You're a champion cake-smusher.

You're still nursing, which is great - I'm so proud of us for maintaining that relationship for so long under logistically tough circumstances. I retired the pump this month, and I don't miss it one bit. But when you decide you're done, I will miss that incredibly special time we have together. I know it'll be replaced by more stories, more tickling, more games, more laughter, more snuggling, and countless other good things I haven't imagined yet. But I will always think of this particular relationship - as I do the one I had with Anna - as one of the best things I've ever had in my life.

Happy birthday, sweet baby girl. I love you more than I could ever know how to say.

Love,
Mama

And....exhale....

2008-02-14T09:12:00.002-05:00

It's 24 degrees outside my office, and there are ice floes in the parking lot. When the wind blows, it doesn't matter how many layers I'm wearing - it cuts right through me. The bright sunshine is a teasing reminder that my skin won't always be this lizard-dry, that I'll be able to eat lunch outside, that I'll open the moonroof, but also that those days are still months away.

But it'll be okay now. I take a deep breath, and, when I do, I smell fresh-cut grass. I hear a crack and a roar. I see beautiful green...and I exhale.

Pitchers and catchers report.

Let the record show...

2008-02-05T08:07:00.000-05:00

Tessa went to sleep last night around 7:15pm. She fussed a little (a couple of minutes, tops) at around 10pm and again around 11:30pm. She then proceeded to sleep until after 5:30am.

Yes, folks, 10+ hours. Overnight. For the first time in her life.

Way to go, T-pot!

Strange, Crazy, Wonderful Super Bowl

2008-02-03T22:53:00.000-05:00

I've watched a lot of Super Bowls. This is the twelfth year I've hosted a Super Bowl party (the eighth year Mr. Asco and I have co-hosted the party!). Some games, I haven't cared who won. Other games, I've cared very much who won. This was the first year I got to see a Super Bowl featuring my two favorite teams, and it delivered.

I'll spare you all the details and the run-up, as the media circus did its usual over-the-top job. Okay - I'll say this much: favorite team #1 came in at 18-0, one game away from the best season evah. Favorite team #2 came in on a crazy hot run, having nearly beaten favorite team #1 in the final game of the regular season. I was pulling a little harder for favorite team #1 because I thought seeing 19-0 would be pretty damned cool. But, as I've told anyone who'll listen for the past two weeks, if there's one team that I could live with taking 19-0 off the table, it's favorite team #2.

And they did it. Against lots of odds (ask the Vegas folks), they did it. It was a relatively low-scoring game that came down to the last few seconds, and it was just amazing. Rock on, New York Giants - you did what most everyone thought was impossible this year. And way to go, New England Patriots - you still have one more win than the '72 Dolphins, and you gave us a hell of a ride.

(As a postscript, let me send this out to the Fox Sports folks: when the New York Giants are a few seconds away from a Super Bowl (major upset) victory, it's rude to show footage of the '72 Dolphins. Not cool. Save it for the pregame, asshats.)

Dear Tessa: Month 11

2008-01-22T20:18:00.000-05:00

Dear Tessa,

Last week, you turned eleven months old. It hardly seems possible that this time last year saw me waddling around in the dead of winter, eagerly anticipating your arrival and hoping against hope I'd get some good sleep before you arrived. It's a good thing I got the sleep I did, for your idea of sleeping through the night is still vastly different from mine! And your father's, and even your sister's. But on any given day you're one of the happiest babies I've ever seen, so whatever you're doing seems to be working for you.

You've continued to delve into the wide and wonderful world of table food this month, adding new foods to your impressive repertoire. Your father brought out a banana to cut up for you a few weeks ago, and as he unpeeled it, you just dove at it. I guess you'd seen your sister do this often enough that you figured, what the heck, can't be that hard. So you now eat whole bananas. You've also figured out how to wield a spoon. Granted, your aim is off - waaaay off - when it comes to retrieving food and delivering it to your mouth, but you've gotten the gist of it.

We learned last month that you were ready to move up to the next room at day care. I cannot think of you as a toddler - in no small part because you aren't one quite yet - but it's undeniable that you were outgrowing the infant room. Only part of the transition readiness is determined by physical skills. You have those in droves - crawling all over the place, pulling up, and cruising. It's the social piece that put you over the top. You were mauling the other infants with your desire to love on them, and it was clear to all involved that you needed to be in a room where your advances would not be spurned. Or, at the very least, wouldn't knock over their targets. The transition was a breeze, and you are now lighting up another room with your beautiful, toothy grin.

On the social front, you're also learning how to elicit responses from people. You clap, you wave, you high-five. You play peek-a-boo - sort of. You respond to it from others, and you mimic the hiding-your-eyes-behind-your-hands motion to start up a game. Only your aim is off a bit here, as well, so it ends up looking like you're either saluting or smacking yourself in the side of the head. Ditto for blowing kisses. We know what you mean, so the game - and the cycle - starts again.

We celebrated your first Christmas this month! Anna knows the drill and went to town on Santa's bounty with no hesitation whatsoever. You loved tearing into the paper, and you caught on to the excitement pretty quickly. You were crazy about your "big" gift, which was a Radio Flyer walker wagon. To our astonishment, you immediately pulled up on the thing and took off behind it, pushing it along the length of the living room. You now routinely take wobbly but certainly not hesitating steps when we hold your hands in support, and I wouldn't be surprised if my next letter finds you walking all by yourself.

You've been holding and controlling your own bottles for a while now (and even starting in on sippy cups!) but I didn't realize how finely your awareness of this delivery system had developed. It was all brought home when your sister brought out the baby dolls one day and, as she does, started putting them down for naps. One stray doll and its bottle lay near you. After planting a smooth on the doll, you picked up the bottle and first brought it to your mouth. You immediately pulled it back, and I braced for a cry of indignation at the tiny, useless thing in your hand. But instead, you crawled to the baby doll and proceeded to feed it the bottle. Fortunately for posterity, your father and I pulled our jaws off the floor in time to get a few pictures.

Your first New Year's Eve/Day was eventful - we spent New Year's morning visiting the emergency room after you had a miserable night with a nasty ear infection. You were so distraught and so exhausted, and I was so worried about hauling you into the ER with the aftermath of New Year's Eve still hanging heavy over the place. Our actual experience couldn't have been better, though - wonderful nurses who cooed and fussed over you, and an ER doc who was prompt, friendly, and had a great manner with you. We were out of there in under an hour and a half, and you were on the mend.

You were wiped out after your long night and morning, and when we got home and I brought you upstairs for a cuddle and some nursing, you snuggled into my shoulder and burrowed your head into the curve of my neck. You pressed into me, and your soft hair - finally coming in - was about the closest thing to perfect, absolute, right that I can imagine. This has become your signature snuggle when you're tired, in need of comfort, or, as I like to think every time you do it, just want to be sure of me. Which, in case you ever wonder in the least, sweet little T-pot, you can most definitely be.

Love,
Mama

Dear Anna: Month 39

2007-12-22T21:27:00.000-05:00

Dear Anna,

Last Monday, you turned 39 months old. You are now a bona fide three-year-old, with three months of experience under your belt. I'm astounded at how much you have changed since I last wrote you a letter. To begin with, your potty training hit a level consistent enough for you to transition to a new room at your day care center. You still have a lot of accidents, but you also have many days with none whatsoever. Your last great barrier (and I know you'll love reading this someday and knowing it was out there on the internets) is pooping in the potty. You're either not getting the physical cues you need, or you're just not comfortable with the idea. You have a low tolerance level, though, for poopy pants, so I think we're going to get somewhere with this soon...which will be good, as the worst poop disaster of our life together to date happened in your room this fall. I went in to get you after a nap and found you standing there, naked, with poop everywhere. You were trying to clean yourself up and get new clothes, but, in the process, you'd pulled poop up your back, onto the carpet, oh - everywhere. My jaw was on the floor, and you looked at me with the saddest face and said, "I pooped, Mama. And I got my hands in it." I got you into the tub and am now a majority owner of Resolve Carpet Cleaner. And that's all we're going to say about that.

You got a haircut that transformed you. Gone was what your father referred to as the "Prince Valiant!" As you weren't interested in keeping barrettes or headbands in but also weren't interested in hair falling in your face, we went ahead and opted for a pixie cut of sorts. It's adorable. As it fills in, I'm starting to mourn the curls less and see the match between this sassy cut and your sassy personality.

You still love your little sister. You're a little less sure of her now that she's crawling. She gets into your stuff, and that's just not cool. But I think you're remarkably patient. You get frustrated, and you try to keep her from getting the toy you're enjoying that has caught her eye, but I have never once seen you get rough with her. You love to tickle her and make her laugh. And I think your enjoyment of life's pleasures is somehow enhanced by sharing them with Tessa. During a recent bubble-fest, you were elated. You waved your hands, your eyes got wide, and you said, "There are bubbles, Tessa!"

You really got Halloween this year. You went trick-or-treating as a butterfly princess (or a fairy princess, depending on your mood when asked), first with me and then with your father. As we walked around one end of our neighborhood, you delighted in the decorations on front steps - the pumpkins, the skeletons, the witches' hats...and, of course, the people who dropped candy into your pumpkin bag!

Your pretend play has really taken off. You have a dress-up bin now, largely stocked with costumes from the Target 75% off post-Halloween sale. When I asked you, decked out in all sorts of finery, who you were, you replied, "I'm a woman. A butterfly woman." Sometimes you are a regular butterfly, or a doggie, or a princess - and we must address you as such, or our words fall on deaf ears.

I'm probably the most amazed by your developing literacy. You've had an affinity for books for as long as I can remember, and I'll still find books in your bed when I duck in to give your sleeping self one last kiss goodnight. But now you can write your name. You've started connecting the dots between letters and words. The first instance we saw of this came during a bedtime story when you stopped your father's narrative and said, "Daddy! Z-O-O! Zoo!" Seeing this happen makes me more proud and amazed than I can even begin to describe. You're reading. This doesn't stop some of the really cute word turns you have, though - my current favorite is "popadots" for "polka-dots."

For a couple of weeks there, you liked to count using your fingers to demonstrate the numbers. You were convinced that the best way to demonstrate "one" was to hold up just your middle finger. You flipped off so many people during that happily short-lived phase...I just don't even want to think about it. It was next to impossible not to laugh, which would have ensured it becoming a permanent part of your repertoire.

We had a small snowstorm a few weeks ago that closed school early and had us all home just before it got dark. You were delighted with the idea of playing in the snow. So we bundled you and Tessa up and headed outside to our teeny patch of snow-covered grass in front of the house. The neighborhood kids had left a sizable rolled snowball there, and you thought this was great. You tried to kick it like a soccer ball, describing your moves with every pummel until the ball was reduced to little chunks of snow. Then Daddy (accidentally) pegged you lightly in the head with a snowball, and you said, "Oh, Daddy! Sorry!" (You're still figuring out how "sorry" works, even though you say it a lot.)

You slept in our bed for the first time in ages last week on a night when the wind was howling. I tried three times to get you to go back to your bed, but your lip was quivering, and you were honestly scared. You crawled in with us and immediately fell into a sound sleep, on a straight diagonal, snoring. Around 4:30am, you decided you wanted to go back to your own bed, but the night scares are more and more common now. Right on schedule, I think, as your imagination becomes ever more active.

As we head toward Christmas, you've picked up some tunes. After one run-through, you learned "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and will sing it for just about anyone who asks. You also do a heckuva cheery rendition of "Jingle Bells." I can't wait to get you serenading your grandparents this Christmas.

As I wrote to Tessa in her latest letter, you participated with our family in a child dedication ceremony at our church. This was a beautiful event, welcoming you and Tessa into our church community. You were given a lovely (thorn-free!) rose by our head minister, and you even thanked her. I loved what the minister leading the dedication said, and I'm including his words here for you, in the hope that you find them as comforting and welcoming as I do:

A traditional African poem reads:
Speak to me, child of my heart. Speak to me with yours eyes, your round laughing eyes... How shall we name you...? Who lives in you and quickens to life? At the day of your naming, you will tell us.
Today we pause to dedicate children of families in our church, recognizing that these precious and holy human beings begin their lives as a promise; a promise that human life may be reborn in goodness, that love may become incarnate, that everyday miracles wait just on the horizon, that each person alive has the potential to sway this world of ours away from evil, bringing us peace and harmony.
Promise lives in these children. Today as we look into their "round laughing eyes," we are offered the glorious story of hope.

You are all of this and even more to me, my beautiful girl.

Love,
Mama

Dear Tessa: Month 10

2007-12-18T09:40:00.000-05:00

Dear Tessa,

Last weekend, you turned ten months old. This month saw you celebrate your first Thanksgiving, complete with a jar of pumpkin pie baby food that smelled so good, I'd have eaten it but for the table full of other grown-up options. My dad and Daddy's parents were visiting and celebrated the holiday with us, and you took to all three of them. It was especially wonderful for me to see you meet my father for the first time. He just delighted in you, and you didn't fuss a bit when he held you!

This has been a month of physical advances for you. I should stop being astonished that you're growing - we'd be alarmed if you weren't - but it still seems so quick to me. And, in some ways, it is. You crawled before Anna did, I'm sure in large part so that you can chase her around the house and take her toys. And this month, you pulled up to stand and starting cruising along the furniture. We'd just dropped the crib mattress from its top setting, and we had to turn right around and drop it to the bottom setting this month so that you wouldn't vault yourself out with all the bouncing you do in there.

The down side to this ability is that you don't always know how to get back down once you're standing up and holding onto something. When you're awake and playing, it's pretty easy to figure out. But when you've woken up and started crying (read: banshees have nothing on you), you rattle your crib bars like a little inmate, and then...you get stuck. You're not really awake enough, and it's not really light enough, for you to figure out that you can lower yourself back to a sitting position from which you could topple back to sleep.

You have more hair. This isn't saying much, but the peach fuzz has now been replaced by a completely nuzzlable head of soft hair that looks like it wants to curl up at the ends. I still hold out hope that you'll end up with the red hair, but it's still too soon to tell. We're a long way from barrettes and ponytails, but I think we're starting to depart the "What a cute little boy!" compliments you receive despite being decked out in pink and floral from head to toe. I never thought that would bother me, but, well, it does. Don't they see the baby girl I adore? Evidently not. At least they have the cute part right.

You've also graduated out of your infant car seat. Gone are the days when I can get you from car to house without waking you up, alas! But gone, too, are the days of your being clearly uncomfortable in a seat that rapidly became too small for your ever-lengthening frame. Weight-wise and age-wise, you'll be facing the back of the car for a while yet, but height-wise, you were just crumpled up in that seat. Now you look tiny again, in the friendly confines of your swank new Marathon.

You've also begun using a sippy cup. It's debatable how much hydration you're actually getting from the water in the cup, but you're certainly getting the mechanics down. It didn't seem possible that you were already old enough for this ("you'll always be my baby" - repeat ad nauseum!), but one of those parenting sites' developmental milestone emails woke me up, and I handed you the sippy cup that day. You knew exactly what to do with it, and I felt a little silly for holding out on you.

On your ten-month birthday, you participated, along with Anna and Daddy and me, in our church's child dedication ceremony. (For those not familiar with the Unitarian Universalist deal, think baptism but with promises I can keep.) I debated dressing you up in the christening gown Anna wore - too dressy? Too chilly? The sentimentality of it all (and the advice of my chorale friends) won out in the end, and I layered you into the gown, which fit just right. You held your flower and let our minister show you off to the congregation. You dusted Anna's hair with your flower while the ceremony finished. And I felt like you - all four of us - became part of something bigger than us just then and that no matter what might happen, we would be cared for and supported by that bigger thing. I hope you always have that feeling of love and connection - it makes everything seem manageable and, beyond that, enjoyable.

Love,
Mama

Dear Tessa: Month 9

2007-11-27T21:32:00.001-05:00

Dear Tessa,

A week and a half ago, you turned nine months old. This has been a month of incredible ups and downs for you, but the ups far outweigh the temporary downs.

You were diagnosed with a lung infection that required nebulizer treatments but happily nothing more serious. So for several days, you had to curb your mobile self while we gave you blow-by treatments with the nebulizer and hoped it would get rid of that wheeze and help your cough. Daddy entertained you during these sessions by dancing around the nursery. You found this absolutely hilarious (as did I), and you stayed put to watch the show.

As if the nebulizer wasn't bad enough, you had an ear infection, too, so you also endured antibiotics for ten days. You were so miserable at the beginning of your ordeal - your sleep was all messed up (just when we were making progress!), and you just couldn't catch your breath - but then, over the course of the week you spent at home with Daddy or me, you played and laughed and became yourself again. Except for the sleep...

But this month also saw you take off - literally! You're crawling all over the place. You're pulling up, and your world is expanding every day. Suddenly, we're having to put things out of reach, and Anna is frequently frustrated by your interest in her favorite toys. And you're getting really good and playing with toys! You love the aquarium bowl with its spinny fish balls, which you put in the bowl and take out of the bowl and put in the bowl and take out of the bowl and...you get the idea. We brought some toys out of storage that Anna had loved, and you've taken to them immediately. We gave away your exersaucer and bolster seat because you just will not be contained any longer. You are a baby on the move.

Halloween was a lot of fun this year; I was amazed at your patience in your costume. You wore it for hours on Halloween night and helped us hand out candy to dozens of trick-or-treaters who got an extra treat in the form of your wee ladybug with the black cap and antennae. And you and Anna played off of each other, as always, and cracked each other up, as always. Anna still makes you laugh more easily than either Daddy or I can, and I love watching the two of you spiral down into fits of giggles and then belly laughs. Kind of reminds me of another pair of sisters I know...

You also graduated this month from baby tub baths to baths in the tub with Anna. You're a big splasher, and bathtime soaks Daddy on a nightly basis. I can't wait to see how bathtime looks when you're a little bigger, a little more stable, and a little more conniving with the squirty bath toys.

All these developments are very bittersweet to me. You're at such a fun age - so interactive and so delighted with everything you can do - but you're not an infant anymore, and I miss that tiny baby. Of course, I wouldn't trade your great big chuckles when you get me to nibble on your fingers in order to get the tiny baby back, so I guess we have to keep moving forward. I'm still trying to make the time slow up a bit, though, as I know it won't be long before I'm writing to you about your first steps. So now I will risk waking you up so that I can peek at your sweet sleeping self before I turn in for the night, and I won't complain too much when you wake up and refuse to go back down without nursing. These days are numbered, and as much fun as I know we're going to have in the lifetime ahead, I'm not ready to let them go yet.

Love,
Mama

Gratuitous Halloween Cuteness

2007-11-01T09:40:00.000-05:00

Come on - you knew it was coming...here are my darling girls, all decked out for Halloween.

Tessa is, clearly, a ladybug. Anna fell in love with this (components re-wearable, woohoo!) fairy princess deal but alternated between calling herself a fairy princess and a butterfly. Whatever - she was happy.

I love this picture because it totally looks like Tessa is saying, "Dude. Check out the princess. I'm with the fairy princess! She's a little crazy, but still. Princess." I'm in love with these girls.

I'm also in love with the moment I see Anna heading out to trick-or-treat with her dad. This year, I took a loop with her as well, and we had a blast. But I love this image of her, wings askew and pumpkin bag in hand, holding Mr. Asco's hand, heading safely off into the evening for some serious trick-or-treating.

JOY!

2007-10-28T23:14:00.001-05:00

Our daughters have some serious Red Sox mojo. We have a baby, and the Red Sox win the World Series that year. Not too shabby for a coupla cute kids. But no - we're not having any more. Sorry, John, Tom, and Larry.

What a beautiful feeling. What a great ride. Thanks, guys, and enjoy.

Dear Tessa: Month 8

2007-10-23T19:55:00.001-05:00

Dear Tessa,

A week ago, you turned eight months old. It's been a month of big changes and developments for you. You switched day care centers in advance of my job moving later this year, and now you go to the same center Anna does. For a couple of weeks, you were even in an adjoining room to Anna, but then she transitioned to another room. You adjusted beautifully to your new environment, and I like your new room very much, but I miss my morning nursing visits with you terribly. I also miss your company on my commute - your singing in your carseat, and, of course, your counting as an HOV passenger!

All the same, it's great to see how easily you've adapted to your new surroundings. Your caregivers just love you. Your father reported that, on a recent pick-up, one of the teachers in the room exclaimed as he came in, "Oh, no! Tessa's leaving!" Even with a month-long case of the sniffles and yet more teeth (we're up to eight now), you are a delightful and happy baby.

We're still having issues with nighttime wakings, and I finally turned to your father a few weeks ago and told him I just couldn't do this anymore. I can, of course; it's amazing what you can tolerate when you just keep putting one foot in front of the other. All the same, this steady sleep deprivation is taking its toll. I've actually had this experience: someone asked me a question, and I stood there staring at her, absolutely convinced in my head that I'd answered her.

So it was time to bring in some sleep training. You're eating a lot more these days, and you're chunking up adorably...so we figured you were just conditioned to think you were hungry two to three times a night. I started feeding you for just a couple of minutes when you woke up (instead of ten minutes or longer) and then putting you down still awake. You fell asleep readily. You haven't eliminated the middle-of-the-night feedings, but I think at this age that one good nosh is still appropriate. And I'm still paranoid that your midnight hollers will wake up your sister, so I head in before I probably should. It's a vicious cycle, but we'll get there.

Your appetite is expanding on a daily basis, as is your food repertoire. Baby food is a staple, but now you also eat little veggie puffs and tiny peas. You get fidgety with spoon-feeding, but as soon as we plop some finger foods down, you dive in for the kill. You'll try anything once, and so far there isn't anything you won't keep eating. And eating. You're burning off your increased caloric intake by (drum roll, please) crawling! You started with a serious commando crawl, dragging yourself around the living room as you started to understand that you could get at your sister and, more importantly, your sister's toys. Within a few days, you were rocking back and forth on your hands and knees. Within a few more days, you had launched. You're still a bit unsteady, but you're moving, much to Anna's simultaneous delight and frustration.

You've also figured out how to sit up all by yourself. This alarms you when you do it in the middle of the night because you can't figure out how to lie back down again. We're stuck with that until you realize that what goes up will come down, but we did move the crib mattress down to accommodate your newfound ability to pull up to your knees.

Tessa, you're just amazing. I thought that I would constantly be comparing your development to Anna's, and I was worried that you'd get lost in that comparison. But two things happened: first, I didn't constantly compare you, and, second, you asserted yourself and just wouldn't slide into a neat comparison. These past few weeks, more people have commented that you and Anna look like sisters. And you do. But I see a resemblance, not a carbon copy. I see a beautiful, smiley baby with little dimples whose mouth turns into a wide little triangle as she repeats her favorite new syllable and then closes into a clenched teeth grin when she's done and basking in her pride. Anna was a a beautiful, smiley baby, too, with exclamations and grins of her own. But these are yours, and when you're doing your thing, I don't even think to hold you up by my memories of your sister at this age. How lucky I am to have you in my life.

Love,
Mama

BLISS

2007-10-21T23:02:00.000-05:00

The Red Sox win the pennant!
The Red Sox win the pennant!!
The Red Sox win the pennant!!!

I think I can get to work in a few hours on adrenaline alone...

Dove Love

2007-10-18T12:48:00.000-05:00

Dove Dark Promises, how I love thee. Thou art so much creamier and tastier than thy nearest supermarket rival, Hershey's Special Dark. Thy creator has seen fit to package you in seasonal splendor, with little notes on the inside of the pretty foil wrappers. Thy inspirational messages for the fall season, however, leave something to be desired. Is it just me?

"Take a walk through frosty grass leaving footprints."
OUCH.

"Watch the harvest moon rise."
Would that be before or after I've made dinner, cleaned up from it, and helped get two tiny people into bed?

"Get lost walking in a corn maze."
Why exactly would I want to do that? Am I assured of having sustenance besides the corn with me in case I really get lost? Will someone come find me and lead me out?

"The wind tells a story, listen."
Great. I'm going to let the wind respond to my preschooler's demands for a fourth and fifth bedtime story tonight, then.

"Dance under the Harvest Moon."
The same one I missed rising, right? My neighbors will have me committed.

"Press your favorite leaves inside a book."
So they can crumble and be aspirated by my eight-month-old, no doubt. But good form - we'll come back to this in a few years' time.

"Sit around a bonfire and watch the stars."
If I build a bonfire in our neighborhood, I will be more than committed. I believe the term is "jailed."

"Count the stars."
Are you fracking kidding me?!

"Take yourself and a book out to lunch."
Now this I can do.

Sing!

2007-10-15T12:14:00.000-05:00

I'm singing again. In an organized group, I mean - it's not like I really ever stopped singing. I sing all the time - in the car, to the girls, to myself, for no particular reason. Although not so much in the shower. I think I'm just not conscious enough at that hour to muster the coordination needed to bathe and hold a melody. But I digress - I'm singing again!

It's a church chorale. A good one, even! With a new director who really seems to know his stuff and chooses a terrific variety of arrangements. The Family Asco is in the process of getting all membered up at our new church (that's another installment altogether), and I joined the chorale at the earliest opportunity.

Mr. Asco has been amazing and supportive of my new endeavor, especially given what it adds to his own long day once a week, and Anna loves seeing Mama sing in the chorale. She sees the occasional rehearsal before services, as her preschool class meets during the regular service. This is probably the best arrangement, as her response to this vision is a delighted, "Mama! Mama singing!" And then she and her mile-wide grin join me in the alto section, where she proceeds to "sing along" with us, beaming up at me the whole time. Cute as this is, I was mortified the first time she did this, but she quickly became a bit of a chorale pet, and I knew - again - we were in the right place.

Rehearsals are one night a week and half an hour before the service at which we're singing. I wondered at the outset whether I could manage (logistically and in good conscience) a once-weekly evening commitment away from home. After the first rehearsal, I was in tears on the way home. Good tears - I really had no idea how big the hole was that used to be overfilled by my involvement in various performing groups until I started to fill it up again.

This morning's commute is brought to you by the letter "N"

2007-10-04T07:12:00.001-05:00

I'm pleased to report that the "N" in "Autumn" was in place on my drive in this morning. Perhaps I was harsh in my criticism of the business in question. Perhaps there's an "N" bandit on the loose, kidnapping "N"s from area business signs. In any case, there it was this morning, in all its glory. So, indeed: WELCOME AUTUMN.

But. I think I still prefer the suggestions - none of which require an "N" from my friend Dave:

HI FALL
YAY OCT
SCREW YOU SUMMER

Peer

2007-10-03T20:53:00.000-05:00

I have never once been called for jury duty. Today, I received a prospective juror questionnaire in the mail with instructions to fill it out and return it within ten days or face mauling by tigers.

My first thought? Cool! Maybe I'll actually get called and see something interesting! But not so interesting that I end up in one of those post-verdict jury pool interviews on the Today Show!

My second thought? I'm a nursing mom. Jury duty is the seventh circle of hell for nursing moms: long days and short breaks spent pumping in bathroom stalls with no refrigeration for your liquid gold. Oh, crap.

I set about filling in the form and found something that I don't recall seeing the last time I saw one of these (about five years ago when a friend at work received a questionnaire) - nursing moms have been added to the exemption category list.

Well, howdee. :)

Drive

2007-10-03T06:39:00.000-05:00

You know you have a bad commute when the line between having a drive time of less than an hour versus more than an hour is drawn at 6:15am.

Mantra: It's all temporary. I can do just about anything for a couple of months.

At least our resident sleep terrorist only woke up twice last night and seems to be getting over her snuffles and the latest teething jag.

Random pre-dawn commuting observations:

1) If you don't have all the letters, don't put up the sign. "Welcome Autum" just pisses me off at 6:30 in the morning.

2) If there are two right turn lanes, and you are not in one of them, do not turn right. Particularly when my car is in the leftmost right turn lane. Further, do not indignantly flip me off when I realize you are on the verge of hitting my car and honk my horn.

3) Radio stories about how the commute in this region is the second worst in the country while I am slogging through said commute are really just preaching to the vehicular choir and are truly not productive uses of your broadcast time.

Dear Anna: Month 36

2007-10-02T19:53:00.000-05:00

Dear Anna,

A couple of weeks ago, you turned three years old. How in the world are you already a preschooler? There's so much going on in your world these days that I hardly know where to start. So let's begin with the gross, after a peek at your happy, smiling for the camera face.

For four nights running recently, you had either a nosebleed or an escaped poop. That's a lot of laundry but, more so, a lot of worry. Your first ever nosebleed didn't bug you, but it made your pretty little bed look like something out of CSI. After being reassured that the occasional nosebleed is pretty common among tiny people who are starting to, ahem, explore their nasal regions, we relaxed a bit. And then there was the poop. As you started potty training in earnest, you became resistant to keeping your diaper on at bedtimes, wanting instead to change yourself. Needless to say, this helpful maneuver had pretty messy results. Fortunately, as you became more determined to use the potty, you also became slightly less resistant to keeping a diaper on overnight, and we've had little reason to do emergency sheet changes in a while.

You're still one super-affectionate kid. You were out at the playground with Daddy recently and brought me a flower from your walk back (and asked your first "why" question when I said we should put it in water!). You started saying, "I love you, Mama, have a good sleep!" as you headed off to bed and naptime. You've also become a real hugger - us, your grandmothers, your friends at school, and, best of all, your baby sister.

Sometimes, you're just plain weird about the hugging. We were at the mall a few weeks ago, in a kids' clothing store with readily-accessible mannequins in the window. You fell in love with these kid-sized mannequins and started going from one to the next, hugging them in turn and counting them. In Spanish.

You're also developing real live manners, understanding that there's a nice way to ask for things and doing so without (always) being prompted. You routinely engage now in please-thank you - you're welcome exchanges, and you remarkably have learned to ask for something by saying, "May I please have..." Of course, your little age-appropriate freakouts interfere with your becoming a tiny Miss Manners, but I think a tiny Miss Manners would be pretty weird and probably not a little annoying.

I love watching you explore new skills and interests, too. You can now use a mouse and "play" computer games designed for your age group (and attention span). The Dr. Seuss A-B-C game is your current favorite, and you readily navigate the letters, choosing your favorite rhymes and songs easily. A sign of the times - my preschooler is fully versed in pointing and clicking! You sing a lot - nonsense syllables, descriptive recitatives of your daily activities as they're unfolding, your version of the church choir anthems as we rehearse on Sunday mornings, you name it. I love it all, but especially your "doodle-oodle-oodle-ooo" as you putter around the house, doing your thing.

You started a soccer class with Daddy last month, too, and it's so amazing to see you being taught and (literally) running with the basic concepts of the game. You have little Nike wear, sneakers that light up when you walk, and a snazzy blue and silver soccer ball. If there were a preschool world cup, baby, you'd be a starter. You do have your klutzy moments, though, as when you recently found out the hard way that you are now as high as the doorknob.

You are delighting in Tessa even more than the last time I wrote to you! She's sitting up, reaching for things, and laughing, and you are her favorite entertainment. When you ask her questions in a sign-song, rising intonation, she just goes bananas. And the more she laughs, the more you laugh, creating a cycle of increasing hilarity. You leave Tessa's actual care and feeding to Daddy and me for the most part, but one recent venture into this area absolutely killed me. You climbed up onto the rocker in Tessa's room, outfitted in a t-shirt and your purple tutu, and asked to hold Tessa. As we set about getting you properly posed to do so, you modified your request: "Want to feeeed Tessa, Mama." And pulled up your t-shirt on one side in a perfect imitation of a nursing mom.

Bedtime is one of the most challenging and most satisfying parts of the day for me where you're concerned. When you're tired, you can throw incredible tantrums, fighting us off at every turn when we try to get you to brush your teeth or get into your pajamas. But when you do finally realize that bed is a most excellent place to be, it's just bliss. You require stories, but we often read in parallel. You tell me which book I should read, and you explain that you'll be reading a different book. Then, while I read my book out loud to you, you patter along with the book you're reading, drifting away from it whenever the plot of my book becomes more compelling to you. For a while, you were leaving your room after lights out, and we would hear you taking exaggerated tip-toe steps through the hall way and to the gate at the top of the steps. Then you'd just stand there and breathe until we claimed you and returned you to your bed. On really rough nights, I ask if you'd like me to snuggle with you for a few minutes. You nod, and I wedge myself into your toddler bed next to you, nose to nose with you while you just stare into my eyes, sometimes tapping my nose with your index finger or patting my shoulder. Just to be sure of me. And I stay just a few minutes longer than I really should...just to be extra sure of you.

Love,
Mama

Joy

2007-09-28T22:01:00.000-05:00

Well I love that dirty water
Ohhhh - Boston you're my home

Congratulations to the 2007 American League East Champion Boston Red Sox.

Best non-FCC-offending quote so far:
"I was standing on this table here, watching that big-screen there..." (Jonathan Papelbon, when asked where he was when the division was won)

Best visual:
From the celebration within Fenway (lots of fans stayed), two players chasing down and dousing the bullpen cop with champagne. Said cop responded with a fist bump to the players.

Best thing about the celebration:
Seeing it leave the locker room and extend to the fans in the park. For example: Mike Lowell, beer in hand, skipping on down the line, high-fiving the fans. Well played, guys.

It's almost good enough for me to go wake up the girls and tell them about this momentous occasion. But, dude, I'm psyched, not stupid.

AWWWWW YEAH!!

And now, back to work...there be October baseball to play, boys.

Dear Tessa: Month 7

2007-09-28T20:49:00.000-05:00

Dear Tessa,

Almost two weeks ago, you turned seven months old. I know - I'm later than usual in writing your letter this month! In my defense, there aren't many spare minutes in the days lately, and an unfortunate percentage of those that should be spent sleeping are instead spent with you in the nursery. I'm just saying.

This month, your personality has come crashing through. You are a delightful, happy baby who smiles at everyone she meets. You leave a wake of delight and warm fuzzies. Your smile takes over your whole face, and those dimples - those dimples! Your newfound vocalizations enhance the smiles - we sing in harmony, which cracks you up. You're playing with consonants ("ah-da!") and long, drawn-out vowels, which cracks you up. You think most everything is funny, and you look like you're contemplating your deepest thoughts while gnawing on your toes. You've developed a bit of a royal wave that just slays its recipients. You're clearly imitating all the waves you see, and you love getting a reaction to it, so you keep it up, twisting an imaginary doorknob with your wee pudgy hand and your little wrist creases.

You passed your first weekend without both Daddy and me this month, and you were a real champ about it. I missed you like crazy and worried that you'd somehow forget all about me after a day or so. You had a wonderful time with Anna and your grandmother, but your huge grin is what greeted me when we got home, and it was all good. Daddy and I had a great time away, but don't ever think I was anything but thrilled to see you at the end of the weekend.

You have more teeth! For the longest time, you had just those two bottom center teeth. Then, suddenly, the two top teeth just outside of the center two appeared, giving you a bit of a vampire look. Don't get any ideas. These new teeth led us to toss more solid foods at you, including those airy little puffs that dissolve in your mouth. You love these. You get almost as many into your mouth as you sweep accidentally to the floor, but you clearly enjoy being able to grab something edible and shovel it in. Your culinary repertoire expands every few days, and you are becoming well-versed in fruits and veggies of the pureed variety. You are also still a strong nurser. And I do mean strong - you'll latch on and promptly arc your free arm out and around, slapping your little hand down on my breast in a gesture of complete ownership.

This appetite is good, as you are a stringbean. Long and lean (but pretty spot on the fiftieth percentile for growth), whereas your sister at this age was approximately as round as she was long. You're active, flailing about and reaching for things just out of your grasp, but I think the bottom line is that you're - hello - a different baby. This has had me convinced that you must need all those overnight feedings because you're littler. Ha! This is, of course, a cop-out, and we will start working on this soon. But I'd be lying if I said some part of my completely exhausted self didn't still enjoy rocking with you while you nurse in the wee hours. That part is being pummeled into submission by the part that would like a full night's sleep, please, so brace yourself for some changes, little one!

You've learned to sit on your own this month, and you can now reach for things and amuse yourself quite readily. Adding to your entertainment is your sister, who elates you. When she careens into your line of sight, you are elation personified, laughing and kicking and playing off of her every move. She in turn loves your laughter, and I've watched the two of you descend into fits of laughter together, each reacting to the other. My own sister - your Aunt Carolyn - and I had this reaction to each other very often as children. Who am I kidding? We still do, and I suspect we will always be able to set each other off as no-one else can. I know what your relationship with Anna can be, and I hope it's all of that and even more. I couldn't wish more love, or a stronger bond, for anyone than I do for the two of you.

I'm already losing your infancy. I can hardly believe that you were ever as tiny as the pictures that prove it. Every stage with you is more fun than the one before, but I still feel nostalgic for those earliest days. It's such a strange betwixt and between - stuck between wanting to keep you tiny as long as possible and eagerly anticipating the child you will become. It's bittersweet, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Love,
Mama

Nightnursing

2007-09-11T11:04:00.000-05:00

With apologies to REM:

Nightnursing deserves a quiet night
The moon and stars on the nursery wall, hung up years ago,
Left them turned off so it's not too bright
Every headlight reveals a room where you should sleep
Still, we're both awake
I forgot my shirt, but who needs it?
You are hungry tonight

Terrible, I know, but such are the things that wander through my mind when I've staggered into the nursery to pick up a hungry Tessa and feed her before her cries wake up Anna. (On an aside, it seems my older daughter could sleep through an Aerosmith concert in her bedroom for how little she stirs when Tessa wakes up overnight.)

We have just - knock wood - come out of a stretch of a few weeks during which Tessa woke up 3+ times per night. And not just little fussy repositionings but honest to goodness feed-me-now wakings. Tessa is a long and lean baby (75-90% on height and 25% on weight) and seems to be in a constant growth spurt these days. And teething. I am so sleep deprived that I suppose it's little wonder I'm starting to take great liberties with one of REM's masterpieces. Here's how it goes:

8:00pm - Tessa nurses and goes to her crib still awake, settling herself down with her paci and her lovey, a little (6x6 or so) square fuzzy blanket with a puppy dog head at one corner. She goes to sleep on her own after playing with her lovey for a few minutes and contemplating serious baby issues. I figure I can get done what I need to get done and be in bed by 9:30 tonight, for sure.

11:30pm - I crawl into bed.

11:45pm - I crawl out of bed, realizing I forgot to brush my teeth.

11:50pm - I crawl back into bed.

12:30am - Tessa hollers, and I go feed her. Diaper feels okay - don't rock that boat. Tessa dozes off nursing, and I put her back into her crib without incident.

12:50am - I crawl back into bed.

2:15am - Tessa fusses. I think perhaps this will pass.

2:20am - Tessa fusses more insistently. I think perhaps this will not pass.

2:25am - Tessa cries. I go feed her. She digs in as though she hasn't eaten in days, bringing her free hand around in an arc to slap it down on my breast in a gesture of impatient satisfaction and possession. She dozes off nursing. Her diaper might be wet, but I do not want to wake her up, so I deposit her carefully in the crib and tiptoe out of the room.

2:40am - I crawl back into bed.

4:00am - Tessa cries, no slow build this time. Her diaper is undoubtedly wet, but she is trying to turn herself upside down in order to latch on and eat more, so I sit in the rocker and nurse her first. After a solid nursing session, she is dozing again. (It never ceases to amaze me that my body will provide for Tessa so readily, no matter how recently she has nursed.) I put her on the changing table and attend to the diaper, which now weighs about as much as she does. She drowses awake and begins to play with me, cooing and looking for a response. Impossibly, I keep my face neutral through the diaper change, pick her up, and set her back into the crib with her paci and lovey. She rolls over and scoots her knees up to her chest, wiggling her butt.

4:15am - I crawl back into bed.

5:00am - The alarm goes off. I reset it for 15 minutes later.

5:15am - The alarm goes off again. I convince Mr. Asco to take the first shower so I can sleep just a few more minutes.

5:25am - Tessa wakes up, her internal clock set to our weekday schedule. I bring her into bed with me, and she has breakfast while I doze.

5:35am - I take a shower while Mr. Asco gets dressed and tends to Tessa.

By 6:25, we're out the door.

I am writing about this now because it is, temporarily, at least, over. I could not be more grateful for that, but I don't ever want to forget this. In 15 years, when the girls are out late on a Saturday night, I will be awake. I will be worried and maybe angry. I will be tired. But I will never again be this tired.

Joey Jog 2007

2007-08-29T08:35:00.000-05:00

Many of you will recall the entry I wrote on an old blog last December:

A dear, sweet little girl - one of Anna's playgroup buddies - died today. She fell ill right after Thanksgiving while she, her parents, and her younger triplet siblings were visiting her grandparents for the holiday. My daughter, along with the other playgroup toddlers, made cards for her room, and the other moms and I wrote notes of support to help buoy her parents.

She was hospitalized from that first night on through today. In order to help her conserve strength and stay still, she was placed into a medically-induced coma while many very talented doctors tried to figure out what was attacking her. They didn't get the chance. This morning, she registered no brain activity, and her parents had to contend with a decision that no parent should ever face. She passed away four hours after being removed from her support system.

I heard those words this afternoon. I heard them with my ears, but I just have nowhere to put them for processing. I hugged the stuffing out of my daughter after I heard this, and I have a lot of tears, but I have no mechanism to begin to comprehend this happening. Whatever your inclination, please keep this wonderful family in your thoughts, prayers, considerations. They will need all the strength they can muster over the coming months.

We miss you, Joey.

Joey died of acute liver failure. There aren't many days go by now that I don't think about how fragile our lives are, even lives that have only just gotten underway.

Joey's friends and family have organized the Joey Jog, which will take place on October 20 in Herndon, VA. The walk is designed to raise awareness and funds for the American Liver Foundation to prevent similar tragedies from befalling other families. I've committed to participate, and I'm writing this to ask for your help. I know there are a thousand worthy causes out there; I am walking this one because my friend lost her little daughter - this is very personal to me. I would be extremely grateful for any support you feel you can send my way for this event, as will Joey's family.

I have a pledge form, but most of you are not local to me. If you are able to support me in this walk, please drop me an email with your plans, and I'll add you to my list. Instructions on contributing by credit card (via PayPal) or check are available on the Joey Jog website.

Thank you so much in advance for helping this cause. We will shortly return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

XO
Liz

Dear Tessa: Month 6

2007-08-26T19:13:00.000-05:00

Dear Tessa,

A little over a week ago, you turned six months old. Already, I can barely remember your tiny newborn self. Your slightly less tiny self is now eating some solid foods, sleeping on her tummy, and laughing when she's tickled, among other things.

I spent my first overnight away from you this month. I missed you immensely and had this irrational worry that you'd forget who I was over the course of three days and reject me completely upon my return. I needn't have worried. As soon as I set foot inside our home again and you laid eyes on me, you lit up, grinned, and reached for me. That might well have been one of the best moments of my life to date. You're happy to see me at the end of a workday, but this was that to the power of ten. It almost made me want to go away again so that you'd react like that when I came back. Almost.

We can tickle you now and get a real laugh in response. Your ribs are very ticklish. My hair brushing your face gets you going. A nuzzle with big wet kisses on your neck is hilarity. I had already forgotten what a baby's laugh sounds like, and I'd like this particular sound etched into my memory forever, please.

You're eating solid foods now! You began your endeavors in this area with the traditional rice cereal and quickly branched out to sweet potatoes and peas. You also like to eat the books we read you, and you remain unconvinced of their lack of nutritional value. Fortunately, you seem more enamored of the stories and pictures themselves, so your book collection survives another day.

With your fairly newfound rolling skills, you've given up sleeping on your back. Being put down on your back makes you mad, and you fuss and then roll right over to your tummy. You pull your knees up under you, turn your head to the side, and you're out. I watched you obsessively at first, despite my recollections that your sister did this with no ill effects. After a few days of this dance, we gave up and started putting you down on your tummy. This seems to be saving us all a lot of time and stress.

You had your first big illness this month, too. It coincided precisely with our trip to Connecticut for your great-grandfather's 90th birthday celebration. Your doctor gave us a regimen to follow over the weekend to keep you comfortable, but, until your fever broke, you were either asleep or fairly miserable with your sniffles and temperature. I missed your super-smiley self and felt so terrible for your discomfort.

I left our hotel room with you at midnight that Saturday, leaving Eric and Anna asleep there, driving you around while you cried, wondering if we should go to the emergency room. I pulled into the hospital parking lot and looked at the Saturday night bar crowd there. I looked back at you. You'd finally fallen asleep, and I turned around and brought you back to the hotel. I let you sleep in your car seat rather than wake you up to sleep in your crib. When you woke up next, your fever was gone, and you slept most of the way back home the next day.

Our mornings at day care involve you playing, usually in the big suspended swing, while I put away your day's supplies before feeding you. Usually, you're quite content to play with the toys that hang down over the center of the swing, but one day last month you wanted nothing to do with them and everything to do with me. You craned your neck and contorted yourself all around so you could see me as I moved around the room, putting away your milk, writing your last feeding and diaper change on the whiteboard, putting your daily sheet on the clipboard in your cubby. You smiled and fussed, stretched for me, and never once took your eyes off of me. I think it's important that you know about these times when I really was the center of your world - they are going to be fast outnumbered by the times that you are the center of mine, but they are my constant reminder that what I do for you does matter a great deal in your grand scheme of things. I really believe that these earliest days are giving you a sense of trust in us and a self-confidence to carry you forward for years to come. I promise you now, absolutely, that trust will never be unfounded.

Love,
Mama

And the Academy Award goes to...

2007-08-21T14:11:00.001-05:00

Anna's preschool does an "Academy Awards" event for their 2-5s every summer, and I had the privilege of attending Anna's first such event last week.

The entry hallway had a red (construction paper) carpet, which is probably the closest I'll ever get to the real thing. Camera in hand, I fell in with the other parents and took a seat on a too-tiny chair in the big front room designated for the festivities. The older kids were already there, and their teachers were trying in vain to keep them settled and contained. The youngest group paraded in, wearing little bumblebee hats and paper bee wings. Then Anna's class trooped in, wearing paper aprons and chef hats with an artful "3B" glittered onto their aprons to designate their classroom. This set sort of sat together, but any with parents in attendance dove for familiar laps. Anna was delighted to see me and expressed an immediate desire to remove her hat and apron.

A 4-year-old in a superhero costume emceed with jokes. The youngest class sang "Baby Bumblebee." Anna's class sang "On Top of Spaghetti." Well, one or two children sang. The others, despite knowing the routine cold, stared at their audience, no doubt trying to overcome their bouts of stage fright by picturing us all naked. (Of course, anyone with a child of 2 or 3 will tell you that this is no challenge whatsoever, since they rarely allow such dignities as solo bathroom visits.) The older classes did a hip-hop dance (and they were pretty darned good) and the Pledge of Allegiance (drilled in before kindergarten! who knew?). Anna's head teacher handed out awards to each class for their outstanding performances, and the show ended, coming in with a much shorter runtime than the Other Academy Awards.

This event is undoubtedly just the first of many such that I'll attend for Anna and Tessa. School plays, concerts, games, recitals - whatever they choose to do, I'll be there. I felt very conscious of this as I sat there with my camera and an adamantly non-singing Anna on my lap. For all the things I've done over the past nearly three years and for all the times I've felt like a great mom or just an okay mom, this was one of the first times I stepped outside myself, looked in, and thought, "Look - a parent."

You know you have a preschooler when...

2007-08-09T21:23:00.000-05:00

I was installing my Novell client on a new computer. I thought I had the settings right, but I didn't. I kept at it. I got it, and it worked perfectly. The song in my head at this success?

We did it! We did it!
We did it! Hooray!
Lo hicimos!
We did it! We did it!
Hooray!

Thanks, Dora...

Armless

2007-07-28T15:37:00.000-05:00

I'm in Boston - well, Cambridge, to be exact - this weekend to do some work at the old office and to go to a friend's wedding. Sunday night I'm visiting my mom. It's my first trip away from Anna in seven months and my first away from Tessa ever, and I'm not exactly sure how I'm typing this, since someone has clearly chopped off my arms.

My flight here last night was insanely delayed, but I am pleased to report that I did not have to resort to pumping in the airport or airplane bathrooms. I was prepared to do it, but I wasn't going to be happy about it. The TSA did let me bring my ice-packed cooler through security (with its empty bottles); they were a hard sell on this being a medical allowance. Still, they were very nice about it all and did eventually let me take it all through to the gate.

I'm in a comfortable hotel. I've done the work I came to do. There's a thunderstorm out there, and I should probably just take a nap, since I didn't get the sleep I expected last night...but it's been ages since I've been here, and I think I might go saunter around a drizzly Harvard Square for a while - shop, find some dinner, and read my book. I don't like being away from Mr. Asco and the girls - it feels weird and unnatural - but I also think it would be a waste to spend what is essentially a tiny little vacation moping about missing the babes. I am stealing peeks at them often, though, on the iPhone, and Mr. Asco called this morning so that Anna could tell me she played the guitar and the banjo at a pirate concert in the park.

Arrrrr!

Dear Tessa: Month 5

2007-07-21T20:00:00.001-05:00

Dear Tessa,

Last Monday, you turned five months old. You rang in this momentous day with a raging case of coxsackievirus, which sent us to the pediatricians' early morning clinic with me convinced you had an ear infection. Why else would you be waking up screaming in the middle of the night, something very much out of character for you? But no - one look at your poor red throat with its tell-tale sores, and we knew we were dealing with an especially icky thing.

So you and I stayed home for the better part of a couple of days. I gave you Tylenol and tried to nap when you napped, since Anna was the only one of us getting any quality sleep at night. And while I hated that you felt so poorly, part of me - don't take this the wrong way - relished the idea of snuggling in with you and taking complete and total care of you while you recuperated. Even though I did a lot of work from our home over those two days, I still felt like you and I were insulated from everything else out there. Just you and me taking care of you until we were ready to get back out there.

And when we are out there, you are one social baby. You smile at anything that moves, and you grab for just about anything that catches your eye. Lucky for us you're stuck in your infant seat during most of our outings and can't go toppling piles of pretty things in stores. But you love people. All anyone has to do is give you a sideways glance, and you're showering them with Tessa love. Which, in your case, is a giant 2-tooth grin that would melt the polar ice caps faster than global warming. And when you laugh, there's just nowhere else I'd rather be than with you, doing whatever it takes to keep that wonderful noise coming.

You're getting so strong! Tummy time used to be a battle - you gamely putting up with it for a minute or two and then wailing away until we stopped the torture. But now you roll all over the place, often winding up on your tummy where you push up to look into the mirror on your playmat or to grin at us with a definite air of accomplishment. It's rare to find you asleep on your back anymore, even though that's how we put you down - like your sister, you just want to be on your tummy with your little bum up in the air.

You're starting to sleep better at night, that stretch of illness aside. I suspect this is in no small part down to your increased physical activity. A few weeks ago, you went a miraculous 8 1/2 hours straight. At the time, I wanted to hold a parade in your honor, but then you started getting pretty consistent with the longer stretches of sleep. They're not always as long as that 8 1/2 hour marvel, but they're pretty solid. You know nighttime, and I have to believe the rest will follow. You have your bad nights (you'll know these by the mornings when Daddy says, "hey there, little sleep terrorist!"), but I think we're doing okay overall. If I could only go to sleep when you do, I could actually benefit from your sleeping longer, but 7:30pm just isn't going to happen for me, I'm afraid.

A couple of weeks ago, we propped you up in your high chair at the kitchen table and spooned some mad concoction into your mouth. Okay, it was just rice cereal. From the look on your face, though, you'd think we'd just slipped you a nice toxic waste cocktail. But just for the first bite...once we're through that one, you've been diving for the spoon like a baby bird. I have to say, it's pretty fun to have all four of us sitting down to dinner together, even if that does involve your sister declaring herself "all done" five minutes in and you arching your back to be freed from your little rice cereal prison five minutes after that. I imagine this is a preview of things to come.

I'm still at that place, Tessa, where every time I watch you while you're nursing, or sleeping, or playing, I realize that this is the last time I will see a child of mine at this age. It brings me up short every single time. You have completed our family, and I cannot imagine any greater joy than the one I know with your daddy, you, and Anna. And yet, I find myself grabbing out at these fleeting moments, determined to hold them in a perfect tableau in my mind. I can't be allowed to forget them, for, sleep deprivation aside, I have never been happier in my life. Thank you.

Love,
Mama

The 4th

2007-07-04T22:26:00.000-05:00

We took the plunge tonight and brought the girls to a party near DC. Said party was held at a friend's condo. Said condo has an amazing view of the National Mall, and, hence the DC fireworks. We knew it would be a later and more involved night than either wee one is used to, but we thought we'd give it a try.

It was basically a resounding success until the drive home, during which there was traffic (shocker) and a screaming baby (shocker). And yet, I'm really glad we went.

I like the Fourth of July just fine. It's never been one of those gotta-do-all-the-traditional-stuff holidays for me in the way that Thanksgiving or Christmas are, but it's just fine with its cookouts and fireworks and marches.

This year, though, things felt a little different. I sat there on my friend's terrace, with Anna curled up in my lap ("I'm sleepy, Mama" - but unable to resist turning around to watch some of the fireworks, which she later pronounced "a little scary" but "much better" for having been seen from the vantage point of my lap). Mr. Asco stood nearby, with Tessa sound asleep in his arms.

We watched the fireworks light up the sky with the Washington Monument and the Capitol providing a picture-perfect backdrop. And I thought, for all the things I think this country is doing wrong right now, and for all the ways I think we've probably made this world a scarier place to be, there it goes: my heart skipping a beat when I saw that scene. I held my daughter close while we all broke into a gorgeous (and harmonized!) rendition of the national anthem, and I thought, well, no. I don't suppose I would want to live anywhere else.

Happy 4th, everyone.

Okay, I'll bite

2007-07-03T07:23:00.001-05:00

You won't find a lot of political stuff in this blog. Most of the people reading it know where I stand on things political, and I'm more than content to leave politics out of my day-to-day ramblings.

BUT.

I have a problem with something that happened yesterday, and I don't think I'll be able to put it down and get on with my day until I put it down somewhere outside of my head.

The President commuted a jail sentence because

a) he could;
b) he deemed it too harsh; and
c) he felt it would traumatize the convict's family too much.

I don't argue with a) - there's a long history of late-term pardons that raise eyebrows all over the place. But then I run into a bit of a wall. The sentence was derived using the Federal Sentencing Guidelines, which the President (and his Justice Department) has long held are a Good Thing meriting strict adherence. Under those terms, I just don't see how this sentence is excessive. Perhaps we will now see sentences commuted for defendants who are not as well connected on the grounds that their FSG-derived sentences are also too harsh? Wishful thinking? Yes, I thought so.

On the third point, perhaps Mr. Libby should have considered the impact and consequences of his actions on his family before he lied to the FBI, obstructed justice, and perjured himself.

I think I feel a bit better now. We will now return to your regularly-scheduled lite-fare, baby-and-toddler-centered blog.

Archy

2007-07-03T06:47:00.000-05:00

Every morning, on the drive to work, I listen to NPR. This is a renewed delight for me. Now that Anna is chauffeured to school by Mr. Asco, and Tessa is too young to express any demands for her commuting entertainment (at least not demands I can understand yet), I am back to my old habit of Morning Edition and its trappings.

Usually just about the time I'm approaching the bridge into the city where I work, The Writer's Almanac starts. I really enjoy this segment, and I found this morning's poem to be absolutely wonderful and very memorable. Out of respect for the copyright permissions, I'm not reprinting it here. But here you go - scroll down to get to the poem for July 3rd.

Joiner

2007-06-29T22:46:00.000-05:00

I have caved and joined Facebook. I'll admit it, the curiosity got to me. Within twelve hours of signing up and putting out contacts to some of the folks in my address book with Facebook accounts, I had heard from three people I hadn't talked to in at least a couple of years, much more in one case.

I like what I've explored so far, and it doesn't feel like what I feared it would - namely, a bunch of folks who wish they were still in high school talking like they were still in high school with the people who went to their high schools. Yes, that was a bit narrow-minded of me...

Goose Egg

2007-06-28T19:08:00.000-05:00

Well, it was just a matter of time. We made it almost 4 1/2 months before Anna left a goose egg on Tessa's head. Anna brought a toy over "for Tessa," and, before I knew what happened, she tossed it upward to Tessa. It bounced off of Tessa's head, and Tessa was most unhappy.

To my credit, I don't think I freaked out. I told Anna in no uncertain terms that this was not an okay way to give Tessa a toy and that we have to be very gentle when we shared toys with Tessa because she is so little. I told her that I loved her very much and that I knew she didn't want to hurt Tessa. Then I asked her if she could say she was sorry for hurting Tessa. We didn't quite get that - I think Anna was surprised into silence a bit by the end result of her actions, but she was quite happy to give Tessa a very gentle kiss on the head.

Half an hour later, both girls were settled into their beds for the night, the incident completely gone from their minds, I'm sure. But not from mine. I knew it was inevitable, and at least the first such encounter is now behind us...

The Shoe Nazi

2007-06-28T07:56:00.000-05:00

I had a hurt shoe. I wore those shoes clear through last winter, when I was pregnant, because they were basically the one pair of shoes that saw what my ankles were doing and still agreed to be comfortable. I owe these shoes kind treatment and long life. A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that the stitching on one of the shoes had come loose. I remembered that there's a shoe repair place in our local mall, so I toted the injured shoe over to the mall on Saturday.

As I walked up to the service counter at this tiny storefront, I saw four signs:

"All repairs MUST be paid in advance"

"Repairs under $5 CASH ONLY"

"Ticket MANDATORY for pick-up"

"All shoes left over 14 days will be DISCARDED"

I stood in the short line to drop off my shoe, and, no matter how obvious it was that you were the next one to be served, the shoe repair guy called, "Nextplease!" when he had dismissed a customer.

I was called and approached the counter, shoe in hand. I started to explain the problem, and the Shoe Nazi held up the shoe and barked, "Restitch. One hour!" I told him I wouldn't be able to come back that day and was further in no rush for this shoe as the weather was more conducive to sandals. I'd barely finished my sentence when he pronounced, "Tuesday! Five dollars!"

I paid the five dollars, got my ticket, and got out of there before doing anything that might inspire the wrath of the Shoe Nazi and the dreaded "No shoe for you!"

Dear Anna: Month 33

2007-06-24T20:13:00.000-05:00

Dear Anna,

I cannot believe you will be three years old in less than three months. And yet, every day, you do things that remind me what a big, independent girl you're becoming...and what a sweet and still little kid you are. Where to begin...

In April, we went to Connecticut to see my extended family over the Easter holiday weekend. This weekend has become something of a family reunion, with a pretty good contingent of family turning out. I was eager to introduce Tessa to my family, and for them to see how big you are now, but that's a long drive. Happily, we have the in-van DVD player, which helps. But you took it one step beyond just being a slack-jawed, DVD-watching toddler. You took off your shoes and socks, pulled your socks onto your hands, and choreographed arm movements to the songs playing on the music DVD. This went on for miles and miles, and, while any normal parent would have gone insane from the repetition of music, I was just plain entertained with every glance into the rear-view mirror.

Baseball season has arrived in our house, which this year means teaching you all about the Red Sox and how they are the Best Team. You now know the mascot, and you spent a lot of time with your A-Z and 1-2-3 Fenway books, which are slightly out of date but still quite informative to a new fan. We found you a baseball diamond-shaped placemat that has all the positions labeled, and you're getting really good at identifying them, even by position number. A few more years, and I think you'll be ready for your first trip to Fenway.

You started a gym class for toddlers this spring and have been loving it. We signed you up for it after watching you - independent of anything we'd taught you - somersault your way around the living room, and you're thriving in the class environment. You do a wonderful job of following directions and taking turns, but there's one spot that needs work. At the beginning of class, there's circle time. Everyone says their names and answers the question of the week (favorite color, etc.). No matter how much we practice, as soon as it's your turn, you have to be reminded of your name. Of course, you had no trouble telling the whole class that your favorite breakfast food is ice cream.

You talk. A lot. You're using full sentences frequently, and you repeat what you hear others saying more and more, which means we're all speaking on eggshells these days. You're pretty darned assertive, and Daddy and I are getting used to getting ordered around in no small measure these days. You also talk to Tessa in exactly the best possible way I could have hoped. Here's a sampling of your latest turns of phrase:

(When asked if you would like a Hershey Kiss)
"No. I will have two!"

(After many, many episodes of Dora the Explorer, you apparently identify with the show's resident bad guy)
"Oh, maaaaaan!"

(One example of your...assertive nature. This was to Daddy when he got out of bed too soon one weekend morning.)
"Wait a minute! Wait a minute! In the bed!"

(One of my personal favorites - exclaimed with your arms raised up high)
"I love Mama! Yaaaaaaay!"
"Are you be a giraffe? Noooooo! Are you be a kitty cat? Nooooooo! Are you be an Anna? YES!"

(To Tessa)
"Tiny little feet!"
"Open your eyes for me!"
"Hello, smiley girl!"

(At the Outback Steakhouse, perusing a table tent for their beer offerings)
"That's for Daddy."

(Leaving Sunday brunch one day, we saw a swank red convertible, driven by an attractive young man, pull out of a space near ours. As it passed us, you said the following, resulting in your father banging his head against the wall in terror of the teenage years to come)
"Caaarr....hi!"

At bedtime these days, if I'm busy with Tessa, Daddy tells you (accurately!) that I will come kiss you after you're asleep. It's not every night, but it does represent a change in our normal routine, and it took some getting used to for you. The first few times this happened, we would hear you crying after some quiet time had passed. So I went upstairs to see what was wrong, since this is unusual for you, and your bed was empty. I found you between your curtains and the window, where you had apparently planted yourself, convinced that I wasn't home and resolved to wait for me to come home so I could come kiss you goodnight. You dozed off there and were understandably upset to wake up there, not quite sure how to get to your bed and still knowing that Mama was somehow not there yet. I kissed you extra and put you back in your bed, where you promptly fell asleep. It broke my heart to see how much you needed me at the same time that it made me feel more full and worthwhile than I think I've ever felt in my life.

And yet, you show so much independence, too, that it seems impossible you haven't been around for even three years yet. You started a new preschool this spring, and you come home telling me about how you line up to play outside with your classmates. I remember watching the "big kids" in preschool line up to go outside when you were in the infant room. Those kids looked huge to me, and now you're one of them.

There's a middle ground there, though, and I saw it plainly when Tessa and I dropped you and Daddy off at gym class a few weeks ago. We called good-bye to each other, and I waved to you. As you walked toward the class entrance, you waved to me and looked over your shoulder all the way to the front door while holding Daddy's hand. There you were, heading off away from me but holding our connection as long as you could, and, in that moment, I saw just how hard it will be to really let you go off on your own. But you can always look back, and I'll always be right there.

Love,
Mama

Dear Tessa: Month 4

2007-06-19T07:38:00.000-05:00

Dear Tessa,

This past Saturday, you turned four months old. It's been a busy month, and you've had your fair share of new developments and adventures. Not too long after the last letter I wrote you, you started laughing. Your laugh right now is a kind of gutteral chuckle, and you don't always smile when you laugh, which makes me wonder if you've decided yet whether this tickling-laughing thing is a good idea. Why don't you think about that and get back to me...

In an effort to make you sleep for longer stretches, we took you to a wine festival early in June. You rode around in the Bjorn on Daddy for the three+ hours we were there, and you were quite the charmer. You smiled at the people pouring the wine, and you dozed off in your floppy hat, prompting many festivalgoers to ask just how much wine you'd had, anyway. If I never hear the joke, "Is she tasting, too?" again, it'll be too soon.

You're getting stronger every day. Tummy time isn't the torture it once was, although it only takes a few minutes before you register your displeasure with the whole exercise. You have great control over your head, and you love the short stretches we allow you to be nestled into the baby seat.

From your lofty perch there, you can see all sorts of things, such as your sister, who continues to delight in you. And you in her! You're already her willing experimentee, but I imagine the tables will be turned when you get mobile and start chasing her around the house. Still, Anna is very gentle with you and regularly includes you in the count of our family - I couldn't have hoped for a better outcome there, and I hope this is the beginning of a lifelong closeness for the two of you.

You're now going to day care four days a week, and you and I have the commute into and back out of the city to ourselves. You're doing really well there - I can see the beginnings of a sleep schedule, and you're a champ with bottles, tummy time, and - almost - rolling over. A week before you hit your four-month birthday, you cut your first tooth. It came with much wailing and gnashing of...gums...and now there's another one on the way. I wish I could do this for you. I hate seeing you uncomfortable and arching your back in an attempt to get away from the pain of teething. But it's happily always temporary, and then you're smiling and talking to me again.

In an effort to get a picture of your new tooth (which has thus far failed miserably), I did get this picture, which shows you "talking." You are such a talker - you start cooing and playing around with your range and volume, and you respond in kind and then some if we mirror your talk back to you. It delights you to have this feedback, and we've had many a conversation about who knows what. I'm sure I've promised you toys, Disney World vacations, and Red Sox season tickets in these conversations without knowing it. Believe me, sweet baby girl, you can have my whole world. Just keep smiling at me like that.

Love,
Mama

No rilly!

2007-06-06T10:25:00.000-05:00

A friend told me about this today. It's almost too much to be believe, but my goodness. It's simply too good NOT to be for real!

Most excellent

2007-06-04T06:55:00.000-05:00

I am not one to crow about these things, as doing so inevitably leads to a complete reversal of fortune, but a certain baby slept for seven hours and twenty minutes last night. From 8:30pm until 3:50am, she was OUT (and that was after a 4:30 - 6:30 nap). Of course, this could be due to the fact that she spent much of yesterday at a wine festival with us, riding around in her carrier and being extremely cute. That's exhausting work.

Another first

2007-05-29T12:40:00.001-05:00

Anna started her new preschool today, and, as a result, I have been mentally not in my office for most of the day. The reasons for the switch are several, but the big ones are, in no particular order:

*outside play space (city centers have a hard time with this, and the new place has THREE outside play areas);
*a preschool class in which all the kids are potty training;
*ten minutes to school instead of fifty - a real plus when potty training kicks into high gear;
*five days a week for less money than four days a week;
*a more clearly-communicated curriculum;
*priority enrollment for the private kindergarten and elementary school extended-day care programs

We (okay, I) bid a tearful farewell to Anna's old classroom on Thursday. Tessa is still at the city center, so I haven't had to make a full break yet. Friday, we visited the new school to drop off Anna's things, and she got to run around the room a bit. Mr. Asco dropped her off at the new place today and called to let me know how it went when he got to his office. The image I was left with after this conversation was Anna sitting in a teacher's lap, crying (even though, of course, she was doing fun things and not crying for a good portion of her drop-off time).

I figured that this couldn't be how her full day was going to go, so I called, feeling ever the hovering mommy, and asked how Anna was doing on her first day. Lovely director said she'd seen Anna dancing around in her new classroom and figured things were going well but that she'd just pop in and check. She came back on the line a couple of minutes later to tell me that Anna was engaged in computer time with some of her new classmates and looked to be doing Just Fine.

Those images are better ones to carry around for the rest of the day.

I'm still guessing that, by the end of the day, Anna will have organized some kind of posse to ride over to the closest grocery store for some ice cream...

Dear Tessa: Month 3

2007-05-22T13:25:00.000-05:00

Dear Tessa,

Last week, you turned three months old. At this point in her life, your big sister was sleeping through the night. I'm just saying. Of course, you do sleep, but when and where is still pretty up in the air. I'm very grateful for the 4- to 5-hour stretches at night, but they start about three hours before I can actually call it a night and crawl in, so you do the math. During the day, you take little catnaps on Daddy or me, or on the couch:

As cute as your little blueberry self is there, and as completely crashed-out as you might seem, we've learned that moving you from this position to somewhere more conducive to good sleep habits usually results in your waking up, indignant at having been moved. Like many babies your age, you go into a very satisfied milk coma after a feeding, so I often have the pleasure of a forced time-out from various chores around the house in order to let you nap:

These are moments I will be hard-pressed to give up, even if I'm eventually yielding them to a better night's sleep. I realize every day that this is the last time I will be mother to one your age, and before I know it, there's another minute, hour, day, week, month gone. It's all I can do to drink it in in the small opportunities I'm given and hope that I'll be able to remember the smell of your sweet baby head resting on me after a big meal and the sound of your first cooing conversations.

You're not terribly thrilled about tummy time, but you're doing a great job of holding up your head on your own, with just a few wobbles and bobbles that are probably a preview of what you'll look like in that warm lecture hall right after lunchtime in about eighteen years. But after a few minutes of tummy time and trying to climb Mount Boppy, you collapse from the sheer effort of it.

That's your big sister. You guys are pals, even if you don't believe me when you read this in seven or eight years' time. For a few weeks now, when Anna is being her super-silly self and laughing maniacally over some caper of Dora's, you light up and can't take your eyes off of her. More recently, when she sees you smiling, Anna breaks into a sweet, quiet smile and just watches you. When she's in your field of vision, she's your whole world, and I am amazed at how early your relationship with her is emerging.

You still love it when I sing to you; it's a guaranteed way to get a smile out of you, almost regardless of what might be distressing you when I start. You're even starting to sing back, and you light up in smiles during our duets. But now Daddy and I aren't the only ones singing to you. You started day care this month - slowly at first, just two days a week until next month, when you'll go four days a week. I told myself it would be easier than it was when I left Anna there, and, in some ways, it has been. I know the drill - where the bottles of liquid gold pumped milk go, how to fill out the daily sheets, where your spare things are - and so the transitions are much smoother. But I cried when I dropped you off that first day, and I miss you - wow, how I miss you. And, no matter how big you get and how many more of these beautiful moments are behind us, I will always leave a little bit of myself with you, wherever you are.

Love,
Mama

Signs I am OLD, Part Two

2007-05-21T19:14:00.000-05:00

Mr. Asco and I went out on a date night this past Saturday. Dinner, movie, and then a stop at Ben & Jerry's before heading home. The Ben & Jerry's line was long, and there were a lot of college kids home reuniting with their friends. Overheard in line:

College girl: This is the most kiddie night ever! Ice cream and going to see Shrek.
College boy: (Something about Shrek I didn't catch)
College girl: I know! Just like when the first one came out in middle school!

And then my head exploded.

My two critics

2007-05-16T20:26:00.000-05:00

Anna used to love it when I sang to her. For the past few months, though, whenever I sing along with one of "her" songs in the car or somewhere else, this is the response I get: "No, mama?" With that inflection, as if she's almost apologizing for asking me to stop singing already. Sometimes, I don't even get the "No, mama?" but just a furrowed eyebrow and a shake of her head. The child can be worse than Simon Cowell.

Tessa loves it when I sing to her. She seems happiest when I get right in her face and sing to her (Who's my little Tessa tot, sweet little tiny tot? Who's my little Tessa tot, sweet baby girl? You are my Tessa tot, I sure love you a lot! You're my little Tessa tot, sweet baby girl!). But she also seems to settle a bit in the car if I crank out a tune while she's fussy. Of course, with both girls in the car, I can't please everyone.

Today, we stopped on the way home to fill up the mom-mobile's gas tank. It's too depressing to watch the pump rack up the bucks, so I hopped back into the car to sit with the girls while the tank filled. Since I wasn't driving, I could turn around and see Anna. The song playing was a tongue twister song (Betty Botter by Ralph's World), and I sang it at her full-on. She didn't ask me to stop. She didn't shake her curly little head at me. As the song finished up, a huge grin spread across her face, and then she applauded.

Miracle

2007-05-16T09:31:00.000-05:00

I now own a swimsuit that - wait for it - I don't hate.

In fact, I might even like it, but I don't want to get too crazy. The only downside is that, with any luck, it will only be in use for one season. I don't plan to be carrying around this extra baby weight next summer, so I probably just dropped a bunch of cash on a suit that won't get all that much use. That's okay - I can always buy the same one - smaller - next year, right? And it was well worth it not to feel totally squicked out at the idea of hanging out poolside with the family this summer.

Pleasure reading?

2007-05-15T12:26:00.000-05:00

I love to read and try to carve out time in my life to get lost in books. This tends to be a few minutes before I sack out at night or over lunch at work. This is purely pleasure reading - losing myself in a good narrative and with engaging characters - but there's something wrong lately. I seem to have a terrible knack for choosing beautifully written books in which little children die. This is decidedly not relaxing, whether it's foreshadowed or sudden, and I'm wondering: Is it really necessary to make a killer story, at least in part, on the backs of fictional little children? Come on!

My current tormentor is Year of Wonders, by Geraldine Brooks. It's a gorgeously written novel about the Plague. Yes, I know, I may have set myself up with this one. But the last book I read by this author (March) was so darned good that I couldn't resist. In the middle of the awful events you know are going to be part of a story about the Plague, there's this passage:

"I put my face to their necks and breathed the yeasty smell of them. God warns us not to love any earthly thing above Himself, and yet He sets in a mother's heart such a fierce passion for her babes that I do not comprehend how He can test us so." (p. 33)

Whatever you believe or don't believe, the gist of this passage is something that, to me, nails the powerful, all-consuming passion of motherhood. So, despite knowing what will befall these little ones, I'm still reading...

Quote of the Day

2007-05-14T18:45:00.000-05:00

Anna, at dinner:

"Mmmmmm...yummy green beans!!"

Followed immediately by her devouring close to half a pound of steamed green beans, pulling many of them through a small pool of hummus (at her request) first.

What a kid.

Mama's Day

2007-05-13T19:35:00.000-05:00

It hardly seems possible that this is my third Mother's Day as an actual mother (not counting the one in 2004 when I was pregnant with Anna, which I do, but whatever). Here's what I'm thankful for this Mother's Day:

1) Two beautiful, healthy little girls who delight me beyond belief every single day and have showed me a whole new way to look at the world.

2) An amazing husband who is incredibly supportive and the best partner I could ever hope to have in this adventure. (The spoil-me-rotten spa gift certificate he bestowed on me this morning has nothing to do with that descriptive. Really.)

3) A mom of my own who is too far away and still manages to lend her support and sense of humor from a distance as well as during her visits.

4) A mother-in-law who's also too far away and always makes me feel like I'm doing a great job balancing work, myself, and mothering her granddaughters.

5) My mommy friends, who really get it. I mean really get it - I don't know where I'd be without them. This category isn't complete without a shout-out to my daddy friend, Mark, too; I'd be lost without our weekly lunches!

6) My non-mommy friends, who were part of my life before I had the girls and will, I hope, always be part of my life, no matter where their journeys take them.

7) The guys I work for, who have been beyond supportive of my role as a mother, whether through flexible scheduling or just swapping parenting stories.

All this goes to prove - to me, at least - that no mom is an island. I'm sure I could keep this list going beyond these major players, but I hear the pit orchestra starting up. Or is that Anna? Happy Mother's Day!

Minutiae

2007-05-13T19:29:00.000-05:00

Okay, so the details of Tessa's daily activities aren't technically trifles, but writing every single thing down for weeks on end can be a bit tedious. Yesterday, I made the executive decision to stop writing down all her feedings and diaper changes and just stick to a sleep log now.

Before anyone thinks this is a second child getting short shrift, wait! I checked the log I kept for Anna and found that I stopped tracking these details around the same age. Of course, Anna was sleeping through the night already at this point - not that I'm trying to suggest anything, TESSA - and I really wasn't feeling the need to keep track of everything. Tessa's weight gain has been great, and we have no concerns at all about her feeding and hydration, so I'd rather focus on sleep now. Wouldn't we all?

Signs I am OLD

2007-05-10T19:35:00.000-05:00

I was browsing in H&M today with Tessa while we killed a little time before her 3-month picture session. I see this cute little cap-sleeve shirt and think to myself, "What a cute little cap-sleeve shirt!" My eyes move up to the sign over the cute little cap-sleeve shirts. The sign reads "Today Only! 30% off All Dresses!"

OH.

American Idol redux

2007-05-02T20:49:00.000-05:00

Oh, geez, FINE. I admit it. I'm completely hooked on American Idol this season. Of the top six, I think there's one who's the clear bottom of the pack, and that person wasn't the first to go tonight. Must keep the faith that my remaining four favorites will indeed be the top four. I think I'm so into the show this season because this last group really seem like good folk who care a lot about each other. Mush mush mush, whatever, but I think it makes for a better show.

Hello. Is it so unreasonable that I find Jon Bon Jovi hotter now than I did twenty years ago? And that I think I might just have to buy my first Bon Jovi album in so many years this summer? My inner rocker chick is well pleased; that song was money.

And there it is - that's the one I thought would be leaving tonight for sure. Now it really gets interesting... but Barry Gibb?

Tuck in!

2007-04-28T19:26:00.000-05:00

I'm cooking. I'm actually cooking. Food. Every night of the week, save the occasional weekend night, for my family. Edible, nutritious (mostly) stuff that's getting us out of our eat-in ruts and our habit of eating out because we're bored to tears with what's in the fridge. And I credit this.

I'm really not one to go hawking stuff to my friends, cookbooks especially, but this concept is just so cool. You can follow the concept for the book or not, but it's designed as follows:

The book is split into the four seasons, and the seasons are split into weeks. Each week has five dishes with suggested (and very easy) sides. You can go to the website and print a consolidated shopping list for the week you're cooking, and the list gives you the ability to cross out a recipe or two's ingredients if you're not going to be using them all.

So far, two weeks in, we've been hardcore and have done all five for each week, with another set of five ready to go for next week. None of the recipes is difficult (or I wouldn't be writing this), and the nutrition values are listed for each one (by serving). The variety is terrific - we've sat down to things we never would have dreamed up on our own and that are just delish. It's also easy to cut most of the recipes in half, which is good, since most are designed to provide six to eight servings. We like leftovers, but not that much.

And while our grocery bill these last couple weeks has run a bit over budget, when I think about what we're not spending on eating out, we're more than covered. I also think our weekly outlay for groceries will fall back into the normal range; I find some of the added expense is stocking us up on what the book - and really anyone with any kitchen sense - considers pantry staples, things that you buy and that then last you a good month or so before needing to be replenished.

The book also has a chapter on good ideas for babies and toddlers entering the world of eating people food, but we haven't done anything with that yet, as Anna will basically eat whatever we eat now - or at least try it. We may need it when Tessa makes her first forays into solids, though, and there appear to be some really good ideas there.

I'm just so darned impressed with myself at having dived into this and stuck to it for two weeks and counting. Next week, I start back at the office two days a week (trying to ease back in). It remains to be seen how this new plan holds up when we're both hauling home after long days at the office, but I have high hopes.

So, yeah, if you're at all inclined, go try the book. If you exhaust the book and want more, you can subscribe to an electronic newsletter that sends you your week's worth of menus and shopping list each week. As much as I can't see getting burned out on the book, I think that might be fun, too.

My God, I'm cooking.

Dora!

2007-04-21T12:57:00.000-05:00

Dora has arrived at our house. Not in the flesh, but she might as well have taken up residence in the guest room for how much we're seeing of her. Anna looooves Dora. And Boots. And Swiper. And, well, the whole gang. So I've seen a lot of Dora's adventures lately, and I just have to say...

That little girl (she's what, four?) has an appalling lack of adult supervision in her life. She treks through forests and pyramids, over mountains...all with a little monkey who wears red boots and keeps losing things. Her backpack is well - if a bit randomly - stocked, and the map at least knows how to carve out a path for her. We know she has parents; they've outfitted her for her explorations. But do they have the slightest clue what she's been up to? This morning, she went to a volcano to find a bouncy ball Boots had lost. An active volcano, even. Come on!

Dear Tessa: Month 2

2007-04-20T18:11:00.000-05:00

Dear Tessa,

This past Monday, you turned two months old. So much has changed in just a month - you'd think I would remember how quickly things happen with tiny babies from having watched your sister grow, but your development has made me realize how much I'd forgotten. Probably the biggest addition to your repertoire this past month is your smile. Your beautiful, joyous, light-up-the-room smile. Lots of things elicit your big grin, but you especially seem to like kisses (on your cheeks and nose) and your sister. It's hard to capture on camera because I'm usually too busy trying to get you to keep smiling at silly stuff I do, but we're getting there:

Happily, your sister seems to like you, too! She mimics our attempts to comfort you when you're crying, and she asks to hold you a lot. We have rules for these physical interactions, but she's never shown the slightest bit of aggression toward you - just a little stressful fretting when you're crying. I have such high hopes for your relationship with Anna as the two of you get older, and I hope these early days are an indicator of things to come.

You're growing like a weed. A good weed that no-one wants to pull up. Let me rephrase. You're growing like a very desirable flower in a spring garden. You know what I mean. You're growing fast! Your two-month appointment was on your two-month birthday, and I fully expected that you would be closing in on ten pounds. I didn't expect that you would have blown past ten pounds and be bearing down hard on eleven. I'm guessing you'll be out of these teensy little 0-3 month clothes before you hit the 3-month mark.

At just two months, you are packed with personality. It's not just your smiles, which convey a world in and of themselves. I honestly think you're kind of laughing at the things you see around you, almost in an inside joke kind of way. I swear I saw you roll your eyes once. But onward. You are a LOUD baby. Your sister cried. You shriek. "Banshee" is probably not too strong a word to use in association with your cries. Those wails sound so angry, so desperate. More often than not, the wailing and crying and gnashing of gums just means you're exhausted - you'll drop off to sleep in a moment with the right cuddle. For a while there, it was all or nothing - quiet contemplation or rage at the world (more specifically, at your carseat, which seems to have mortally offended you somehow).

Now, though, you've started with these adorable baby coos that sound downright conversational. Sometimes we just sit and chat, and I hope I'm getting my half of the conversation right. You might just be humoring me. And I might have agreed to three trips to Disney World before your second birthday.

In just a week and a half, you'll start day care, and I'll start back to work. Just two days a week to start while we get used to being away from each other during the day... I keep telling myself that it won't be as difficult this time. I've done this before, and I didn't have the benefit of easy access to Anna during the day when she first started day care. You're starting at the center near my office, and I can see you whenever I want to during the day. But something fundamental is about to change for us. We've nailed down a connection that I hope is the foundation for a lifelong relationship, though, and I'm counting on that connection to help us both with this transition. I know you're not your sister - I see the differences between you every day - but of course I hope that your experience in someone's care other than mine is as wonderful as hers has been. So here comes our next chapter - always remember that I love you more than I ever dreamed possible.

One more grin for the road...

Love,
Mama

Tessa's latest stats

2007-04-18T21:11:00.000-05:00

Tessa had her two-month appointment on Monday, and she's doing just great! She weighed in at 10 pounds, 10 ounces and is measuring 22 inches. She was a brave little creature for her four shots and one oral vaccine.

She had just started to come down with a cold on Monday, and the after-effects of the shots with the cold symptoms layered in made for one cranky baby. Monday night was rough, and the cold was in full swing on Tuesday. By Tuesday night, she was absolutely exhausted, as were we. A dose of infant Tylenol helped to settle her down, and she slept for over seven hours, from 11pm until about 6:15am. Which means that I slept almost as long for the first time since Tessa was born. This morning was like Christmas morning when I realized that I hadn't been awake in several hours.

We headed back to the pediatrician's office this morning and spent much of the morning there. First, we waited. Then, we waited some more. Then, Tessa was seen. The doctor ran a couple of lab tests while we were there (waiting) and pronounced Tessa afflicted with a cold but, happily, nothing more serious than that.

I hardly dare hope for seven straight hours of sleep again tonight, but, hey, I can dream. Especially if I'm sleeping for seven straight hours.

Slow motion

2007-04-16T14:04:00.000-05:00

I was all set to put together a post on Tessa's 2-month appointment, but it'll keep. My heart aches for the friends and families of today's awful happenings on the campus of Virginia Tech, and I feel like I'm walking underwater as I watch the news coverage. When Tessa and I left the house this morning, the story was that two people had been shot and that the shooter was in custody. When we got home, the news was so much more terrible.

How do those families and friends and witnesses put one foot in front of the other? How do our open college campuses (one of which houses my job) move forward from this?

What a difference a day makes

2007-04-12T20:18:00.000-05:00

I've taken three of my twenty antibiotics, and I already feel so much more human than I did this time yesterday. I woke up this morning without the aches and chills, just some residual pain at the site of the infection (without getting too graphic...). Tessa and I stayed in all day, and, while I did get some work done, we took it pretty easy. I toyed with the idea of heading out to do an errand this afternoon, but the hailstorm (!) nixed that.

I talked with a lactation consultant late yesterday afternoon in the hopes of figuring out why I keep getting this lousy infection. She said that some lucky women just get mastitis chronically. Oh, good. Apparently, taking lecithin has been shown to help these women, and she suggested I take it if I get it again. Everything else I'm doing is, happily, on target for not getting mastitis all the time, so at least I have the part under my control covered.

Dammit

2007-04-11T19:23:00.000-05:00

I hate being sick. I hate that feeling of so much to do and just not being able to slog through the illness to do it. I hate not being able to pull my weight, especially when the Asco home is as nutty as it's ever been. But sometimes, the illness just doesn't give you a choice, and I'm currently afflicted with perhaps my least favorite illness (of those I've experienced, anyway), and that's mastitis.

I had an inkling last night it was coming on, but I thought maybe it was just a plugged duct. I fed Tessa, and we went to bed. Before she even woke up for her middle-of-the-night feeding, I was awake and feeling positively lousy. Chills, shakes, aches, and a lot of pain in my right breast. Mastitis, for those of you who don't know (and may you never know firsthand), is a breast infection that leaves the person with it feeling as though she's been hit by a semi. Lovely.

I tried pumping after Tessa ate and got next to nothing - that's the next bad sign. A good pump session might at least have meant I just had some oversupply. It took ages to doze off again, at which point Tessa was waking up anyway. I went to the doctor this morning, who confirmed my guess. He put me on an antibiotic and instructed me to go home, drink lots of fluids, get lots of rest, pump (but not too much), and feed Tessa as usual. Tessa had some other ideas, but she eventually took a nap on me the second half of the afternoon, which let me relax, if not go to sleep myself. Now I'm trying to chug the water I didn't have with me upstairs while Tessa was sleeping. Still achy and chilled, but I have high hopes the antibiotics will have me feeling lots better soon.

This too shall pass...

It's a beautiful day for a ball game

2007-04-10T14:36:00.000-05:00

That's what I used o say every time I sat down to a game at Fenway Park - because every day I spent at Fenway was beautiful. There's such a reverence about that park - you feel humbled just walking up the ramp and seeing that gorgeous green spreading out before you. I miss it so much, and I can't wait to take the girls someday...

But today I'm in the happy position of watching the Red Sox home opener in high-definition from the comfort of my living room. Tessa was wearing her little Red Sox cap (thanks, Mom!) until it was time to eat. We got home from our noontime errands to see the pregame, which always makes it seem just a bit dusty in here. The '67 team was honored, and I was all teary - never mind that they played five years before I was even born.

Then the current roster was introduced, with enormous ovations for the new guy and the closer who had such a fantastic outing two nights ago. And the super-lovable teddy bear of a clutch hitter, and the World Series hero pitcher, and the no-nonsense captain, and the crazy-but-we-love-him-anyway great hitter...

Oh, but I love this team. Welcome home, guys.

Yakety-Yak

2007-04-01T19:33:00.000-05:00

A sick kid is a sad sight. Your sick kid is a really traumatic thing. At the beginning of a near-40-mile drive home this evening, Anna started to fuss in her car seat. Unusual, especially since she had DVD entertainment. It dawned on me what was about to happen. I looked back as she coughed once, and then...you know then. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but that sad, pitiful cry of a toddler who doesn't completely understand what's happening to her but is full-on miserable about it will break your heart every time.

We pulled over to the side of the road, put the hazards on, and got Anna out to clean her off. Happily, I had a change of clothes for her in the diaper bag, since we had anticipated some potentially messy play this afternoon. Oh. Did I mention it was raining? Lightly, at least. We wiped down the car seat. We got Anna cleaned up, changed, and back into the van, and off we went. Not much later, she started to fuss again, and we got right off the road. Mr. Asco got Anna out and walked her around on the side of the road, and she got sick again, just a little. The poor thing was just miserable, but at least her outfit was spared on this go around. We got back home, got her through her bath and into bed, and she's now sleeping peacefully. Hopefully, this was a one-off.

Kudos to:

1) Dear friends Jon and Jennie, who got to witness the whole thing from the third row of the van and will certainly take a separate car the next time they visit and we go to a common destination with the girls;

2) Tessa, who cried a bit over the fact that the car was stopped but responded well to comfort from Jon and Jennie and then went back to sleep when we got moving again; and

3) Anna, who was Very Brave throughout.

Mom, you'll be glad to know that Anna's 2nd Birthday Sweater, which she was wearing when this happened, came through the emergency wash cycle with nary a spot on it. It's drying flat now and looks absolutely none the worse for wear. Whew.

The best intentions...

2007-03-25T17:47:00.000-05:00

Anna filled her training pants at naptime today and decided to deposit the contents into her new potty. I don't need to tell you how that went. After being resettled - or so we thought - she proceeded to move the potty onto her bed. Easy access, I suppose. The potty is now residing in the hallway while we figure out a new strategy.

In other news, the sound of running water seems to calm Tessa immensely. Yes, folks, our water bill will be tripling, but I hope to get some nice baths out of the deal.

Say cheese!

2007-03-24T20:16:00.000-05:00

We got to see Tessa's first real smile today! She cracked a grin at Mr. Asco this afternoon while he was mugging for her, and it was delightful. I'd just been talking with our pediatrician at Tessa's appointment on Monday, and we were talking about the "smile and nod" response to the parents who absolutely insist that their two-week-olds are exhibiting social smiles and not little facial experiments, gas, etc. I remember Anna's first social smiles as lighting up a room in a way her superficial smiles never did, and Tessa's smile today was like that. I can't wait to see more!

It was well-timed, too - Anna is over her cold, but Mr. Asco has it in full force (I cleaned out the cold and cough section at Target this afternoon), and I appear to have a touch of it. Hopefully, that'll be all it comes to, but the reward of a smile from Tessa just made our day.

In other news, we had two bed changes for Anna today - augh! Our potty-training toddler takes her naps in her trainers and her overnights in diapers. She's been doing really well with training at school but at home - not so much. A lot of that is on us - we simply haven't enforced her training the way we need to in order to get results, and that's completely down to Tessa's arrival. We expected that anything we did at home would backslide when Tessa was born anyway, and, well, we're dead tired these days.

The problem is that Anna likes to take her clothes and diaper off at naptime and in the morning when she wakes up - especially if she has some quiet awake time before we come get her. This morning - wet sheets. After nap - wet sheets. The laundry has been buzzing today. So on my Target run, I picked up a potty that we decided would live in Anna's room. I'm not entirely sure how this will work, but we're not about to give her the run of the upstairs, especially the bathroom, unsupervised, and she's not about to tell us when she decides to disrobe. So we'll give it a shot and see how it works. For those playing along at home, that's four potties in the house now: the new one in Anna's room, the on-seat potty in the bathroom where she takes her bath, the potty seat in the mid-level bathroom, and another on-seat potty in the downstairs bathroom. All in the name of having an available potty environment on demand...

We also rewarded Anna for going on the potty for the first time tonight. We always jump up and down, clap, and tell her how proud we are of here, but tonight, after going potty successfully, she got two m&ms (which she adores). That reward system is not in play at school, so we're not going to use it every time here. We're hoping those principles of selective reward reinforcement will work on potty training, too...

And there you have more than you ever wanted to know about our older daughter's toilet habits. I'm going to look back on this entry and realize how exhausted I had to have been to have written paragraph upon paragraph about potty training. Still, there are people writing whole books about it. Be glad you're spared that.

All clear

2007-03-22T17:46:00.000-05:00

I had yet another OB appointment on Wednesday, and this time the news was good. The post-op infection I've been contending with has cleared up at last! This last antibiotic apparently did the trick, and my OB was quite pleased with how things are looking. So now I get a week off before going back for the routine 6-week postpartum check-up. Woo!

In other news, it was a glorious day here today, and Tessa and I took advantage by heading out for a long walk in our neighborhood. She slept while I trekked over the walking trails through the athletic fields, past the elementary school, and then back home. I hope that's just the first of many nice-day walks for us!

Idol, baby

2007-03-20T20:47:00.000-05:00

We're sitting watching Speed Idol tonight (performances and commentary only, fast-forwarding through everything else). Tessa is dozing on Mr. Asco's lap, and Blake Lewis has just finished his rendition of Time of the Season. Catchy tune, so Mr. Asco starts singing the song to Tessa. Here's how it goes:

Mr. Asco, singing: What's your name? Who's your daddy?
Tessa raises her arm, pointing her index finger at Mr. Asco.

Whether she was actually identifying Mr. Asco as her daddy or just getting her groove on, that is one brilliant child.

Dear Anna: Month 30

2007-03-19T19:12:00.000-05:00

Dear Anna,

Two days ago, you turned 2 1/2 years old. Since I last wrote, you experienced Christmas as only a 2-year-old can. You came downstairs to find a veritable pile of presents; Santa was awfully good to you this year! You played with each gift immediately upon opening it, and so the opening of presents took clear until lunchtime. No matter - we had a great time watching you have a great time, and I dare say you'll know what we're talking about when we hype Santa and Christmas a bit later this year...

After the holidays, you took off with some new and, I think, funny activities. We haven't had much snow to speak of this winter, but you know what a snowman is, and you are fascinated by the idea of building one by stacking three things on top of each other. You generalized the concept beyond snow and, since we really didn't have the snow anyway, started making snowmen out of anything else you could manipulate in a similar way. My favorite? The sushi snowman you made out of tamago (egg). "Make a snowman?" has been one of your most common requests or statements when faced with a group of things that might be piled on top of each other. You've also cracked me up by doing that classic thing little kids do because they've discovered how to upend their worlds - spinning. You spin around and around, saying "whooooaaaa" as you go, and then you try to walk. You stagger around for a few steps and then topple over. The whole thing delights you, so you get up and do it again. I'll remind you of the pleasure you got from this simple activity when we eventually have our conversation about alcohol...

Your personality has always been a delight to me - you're so funny and outgoing! These past few months, your verbal development has let us know even more about you, and we've loved watching you figure things out - and tell us about it. You want us along for the ride with you: "Come, Mama, come!" - spoken in the most urgent tone possible, is how you urge me to join you in a trip down the stairs or to your room. Your pronouns are still delightfully mixed up much of the time, so that when you say something you think is funny, you look at us with such pride on your face and proclaim, "You funny!!" And you have that hilarious toddler literal sense. As we prod you to put a full sentence together (asking for a banana please), we ask you to "say the whole thing." Your response to this is, of course, "The whole thing!" Well, of course!

Your discovery of new things, or things that you recognize from other contexts, is also now verbalized. I love the wonder in your voice when you say, "Oh, look at that! A leaf!" It's as if you need me to see it, too, since I couldn't possibly have ever seen something so amazing in my entire life. And, when I'm seeing that thing through your eyes, I really haven't. You're singing, too - it usually only takes you one or two hearings of a song before you can give it a title, ask for it, and sing it, either alone or along with the recording. Your favorites are Laurie Berkner and Rocknoceros, the latter being a local children's band that plays live shows in our area frequently. (You're known to their lead singer as the one who routinely begs for - and obtains - the egg shaker he uses on their popular shaker song.) The other night, I heard you singing along to a song on your iPod through the monitor as you settled down for a nap, and sometimes I hear you singing songs to your baby dolls - the ABC song is a popular choice.

I'm delighted at your food exploration - you'll try just about anything, and you actually like most things you do try, leaving us with lots of good options for your meals and snacks. In a nod to both your parents, you love wheat pita bread and hummus; you ask for them by name, which blows away our friends - such sophisticated taste! But, really, we just bow to your demands to try things that we're eating, unless those things are super-spicy or inappropriate for you, and you tend to like most things you've stolen from Mama and Daddy's plates.

Your favorite toy - really a collection of little toys - is the $10 Fisher Price medical kit I bought you recently (in conjunction with an Elmo Goes to the Doctor DVD). Of the various health care implements included in this set, and, really, of all your toys, the stethoscope has become your prized possession. You wear it to bed most nights, and you listen to our hearts, Elmo's heart, doggie's heart, bear's heart, and even your own heart several times a day. I'm convinced this stethoscope is one of the reasons your new baby sister is acceptable to you. You can listen to her heart, too, so she's at least good for something!

Needless to say, it's been a big last month for you. We prepped you for your baby sister's arrival as best we could. We read a lot of books about being a big sister. We encouraged you to play with your baby dolls and to take care of them - hugging them, kissing them, changing their diapers, reading them stories, putting them to bed. We talked about my belly and the fact that your baby sister was growing in there and would come home to live with us after she was big enough to come out. You responded to all this with as much understanding as we could possibly have expected from a child as young as you are. You kissed my belly, patted it, and told us when we asked that "baby sister" was in there. You memorized one of your big sister books, and you started telling us that certain things - like the crib in the nursery - were "for babies," our first real sign that you didn't see yourself as one anymore.

And then Tessa arrived, and you put all the things we hoped we'd taught you into motion. You kissed your baby sister, and you held her so gently and only tried to roll her off of you once or twice (and while we were right there to relieve you of the burden!). You've had more tantrums, and you get upset over seemingly little things more, since Tessa came home, but overall I can hardly believe how well you've adjusted to her arrival. You haven't once asked us to send her back, and you take great delight in telling us what Tessa is doing or where she is at any given moment. I have felt guilty about bringing Tessa into your life, amazingly (or not?), but only for now. Tessa requires a lot of our attention right now, and I think you're feeling the pinch a bit. I promise you, it will get better, and I think you're going to love having what I hope will turn out to be a lifelong friend and confidante in your sister.

What makes me want to stop the clocks and calendars is seeing your growing independence in the face of a new baby in the house. Not long after we brought Tessa home, you realized your beloved stethoscope was up in your bedroom. I was nursing Tessa and couldn't get it for you. You started for the stairs, and my instinct was to ask Daddy to go with you. I think he saw something in the purposeful way you went toward the stairs - and your room - though, and he asked you if you wanted to go ahead and get your stethoscope yourself. This was apparently exactly what you wanted to do. You went upstairs, holding the banister rails as you went, retrieved your stethoscope, and came back down just as carefully. You completed this task as though it was no big thing, but I felt years pass in those two minutes. You're getting so big, and so smart, and it'll be no time at all before you're going much farther than up a flight of stairs to your room. I can't wait to see all you'll become, but don't blame me, either, for wanting things to slow down a bit in the meantime. You'll always be my baby, and I love you.

Love,
Mama

Dear Tessa: Month 1

2007-03-19T17:14:00.000-05:00

Dear Tessa,

You turned one month old this past Friday. Your first month on the outside has been a lot of fun for our family, as tired as we are! You're in that phase of basically eating, sleeping, and pooping the day away, and, even though I've been there before with your big sister, I can't stop staring at your amazing face and tiny fingers and toes. Your facial expressions change second to second, and you're just starting to figure out that those flailing limbs might actually be attached to you.

So much has changed for us that it seems impossible that you don't know it, too, even though you've had the biggest change of all. Just a few weeks ago, I was waddling around, as uncomfortable as could be, wishing away the days until you were here so that I could cuddle the reason for all that discomfort. And you didn't disappoint! Of course, now I'm not getting more than three hours of sleep at a stretch, and I'm sore for different reasons (a return to nursing on top of a post-surgical recovery), but I wouldn't trade you for anything.

Your personality is emerging already. You chirp a lot, it seems, conversationally, and your sights and grunts seem designed to communicate something to us. Your social smiles haven't emerged yet, but I'm starting to sense that you're entertained by our attempts to tickle and delight you with kisses and little games. I can't help but compare you to Anna, but it's not ever a question of better or worse - just different. You are slower to take to the bouncy seat and to non-cuddle time in general. You definitely seem to want to be held more than Anna did at your age (if I can trust my memory of those early days!).

I'm enjoying my days at home with you, even though it means balancing a work schedule (albeit reduced!) as well. I would love to just stare at you all day and soak up everything you're doing for the first time. I love watching you see things for the first time, and process them to the point of having to look away for the sensory overload. You've discovered the contrast lines in our house where the color on the walls meets the white of the ceiling. You've also found the windows that let in the best daylight. You are interested in the bright and playful toys on your playmat, but they overwhelm you quickly, and you get upset with them. We have another couple of months like this before I'll entrust your daytime care four days a week to the same wonderful people who took care of Anna when she was tiny. I hope you like it there as much as Anna has, but rest assured that I'll be watching to be sure!

I don't know what your daddy and I did to be blessed with two such beautiful and healthy little girls, but I'm immensely grateful for this family, and for you, our littlest member. Welcome to the world, tiny Tessa - I love you!

Love,
Mama