Rare :: fun in the shower

Oh Boy.

A morning trip to the store for a helmet and some knee and elbow pads kicked off our weekend. The anticipation was nearly too much to bear for Annabelle, but eventually the training wheels were finally installed and she was suited up to go! She was unusually cautious and took her time getting comfortable...

Every street corner offered pause to dismount, grab hands, and cross the street together. Notice the flip flops? The sun is nice and warm on a January day in California!

Picking up speed :: Dave and I laughed at first at the idea of buying knee and elbow pads and gloves for Annabelle to wear along with her training wheels. I mean, really, we got skinned up falling off our bikes and we're fine, right? I don't think I even owned a helmet until I was sixteen! But it took us about two seconds to realize every scar that still shows on our bodies are all because of bike falls. But most importantly:: gear offers a very important fashion accessory to the activity at hand!

Soon we were both having to run to keep up with Annabelle.

Annabelle :: I can feel the wind! I can feel the wind flying through my helmet!


But she had not yet learned the art of stopping quickly. As she approached the corner she could not apply enough pressure to the brakes... the bike came to a halt only about a half inch from the edge of the curb. It scared Annabelle to death. She quickly dismounted and came to me for a hug.

She spent far more time getting off the bike and crossing the streets than actually riding. There are a LOT of street corners in our little neighborhood.


Annabelle :: Dad! Dad! Listen!! Do you hear the birds!?!

Dave :: Yes!

Annabelle :: They're saying, "Good! Good! Good job! Keep going! Go! Good!"


Another crossing. See the red reflectors on the back of her helmet? She kept asking me if they were flashing when she peddled. And then she would peddle faster...

Annabelle :: And now? Are they flashing now? Are they flashing FASTER? Flash! Flash!


Here, before she got back on her bike, I asked, "Annabelle show me how much you like riding your bike!" This look says, "I'm awesome. This is awesome. I have it all under control. Don't bother me. I own this."

During Annabelle's infancy I spent a lot of time dreaming of this day. To me, especially when Annabelle was nursing every two hours around the clock and I was home alone a lot of the time, I believed that the day she rode a bike would be the day I got my freedom back. Of course, it is not quite that simple and I had long forgotten that dream in the years in between. But today I felt a change as I walked and ran next to Annabelle - the switch from pushing her in a stroller to chasing her on a bike was a very big deal. There is so much possibility that opens up just because of a bicycle!

Tonight at bed time Annabelle was nearly asleep and then suddenly:

Annabelle :: Dad!!

Dave :: (waking up from having dozed off next to her) Uhh. Yes?

Annabelle :: Can I wear my helmet and my knee pads and my elbow pads and my gloves tomorrow and ride my bike?

Dave :: Yes.

Annabelle :: (closed her eyes and was almost immediately asleep)


This life is like the best bike ride ever.

Microcosm :: Moss

At the foot of a very old tree on a very dirty street corner at a very busy intersection in a very big city.

Thank god we finally bought a couch.

Annabelle woke up feverish this morning. But she is not too sick, just sick enough to lay on the couch and order me around. The good news is that it hasn't dampened her appetite! Her latest favorite food (toasted rice cake with avocado and tomato topped with sprinkles of Celtic salt) has been requested and served up at least five times this morning already.

So it will be a quiet weekend at home. And hopefully lots of nesting will ensue... this is the longest moving-in I have ever experienced!

It does a body good

This morning I woke up because it was too quiet. And the sun was already up. The combination of those two things immediately told me I needed to get out of bed and see what Annabelle was doing.

Her door was closed and locked. I knocked on the door. She opened it smiling, with big blotches of dried white stuff all over her mouth and chin. I glanced past her to see a bowl set on the floor with a small cloth and some dolls. Then I remembered the pint of raw cream I purchased at the store yesterday... Annabelle had particularly noticed the label had a cartoon of a cow on it. And, of course, anything with a cartoon means it's for her.


Me :: Annabelle, did you drink all the cream?

Annabelle :: Guess what? There was a small monster in my room. I called my angel but she didn’t come.

Me :: Are you sure she didn’t come? Maybe she was there already.

Annabelle :: Yes, but I wanted her to come and give me a KISS. And she wouldn’t. I called her even TWENTY ONE TIMES and she still would not come and give me a kiss! She told the monster to leave but he would NOT leave so he got in trouble for not listening so I had to be a kitty cat and drink all the milk.


She was lucky that she left just enough for me to have with my tea. Later I contemplated how we sometimes have to "retest" a food to check and see if she still has the same allergic reaction. Some of those tests end up being spontaneous and incidental, kind of like this morning. And those moments are happening with greater frequency as Annabelle grows older - she is more determined to eat certain foods that she wants and she is certainly more capable of figuring out how to get them.

Long gone are the days when I could honestly say she didn't know what candy was... now I loathe walking into any office, store, or establishment that keeps that bowl of candy on the counter. Annabelle exerts an incredibly amount of pressure and has even begun to sharpen her finer negotiating skills. Of course, when the answer is no she knows I mean it. But I wonder how many screaming children it takes until the dry cleaner people take the bowl away? Certainly we can't be the only ones.

In another vein, Annabelle tells me regularly that the angels talk to her. I think it comforts us both. However the conversations that *I* would have with an angel are definitely not the conversations she has! We recently finished reading the book Mary's Little Donkey for the first time. Throughout the book an angel appears to the donkey to help guide the family towards safety or some other auspicious location. Annabelle has shared very little about what she thinks of the book, though I do know she has looked forward to it each night at bedtime.


Annabelle :: (running up to me with her face lit up as if some very magical thing has just happened) Guess what!? Mary's little donkey's angel came and talked to me!

Me :: She did? What did she say?

Annabelle :: (leaning in close to whisper) Go clean your room.

Me :: (silent, covering my mouth with my hand)

Annabelle :: (speaking loudly as she turns around to go back to cutting up paper with the scissors into ten million tiny pieces) Not right now angel. I'm busy.


While angel sightings have become regular events, Annabelle's imaginary elemental friend Tiger is long gone. The time was right, but in a way I really miss Tiger. Having a child who is always with their imaginary friend is, I think, a pretty rare experience. Especially because through Annabelle I began to develop my own relationship with Tiger and there were times when I thought about Tiger or wondered if he was there in the kitchen with me while she was upstairs napping.

After two years of regular visits (almost daily for many consecutive months) Tiger was not so imaginary. And then, one day I noticed the visits were more infrequent. And then one day I realized it had been several weeks since we'd heard from him. Recently Annabelle told me that he stayed in Oregon when we moved to "this place."

But I suppose there would be a time when the angels and fairies would take precedent, and that time would likely be when ballerinas and princesses reign supreme. Right about now. But there is a separation that Annabelle acknowledges, even though she seems to pretend to be a fairy or princess for most of each day. This week I baked my truly first successful grain-free apple pie. There were several that simply got thrown away, but this one was a hit. As soon as it came out of the oven, Annabelle was waiting for her serving. I placed her bowl and teaspoon at her place before reaching for the pie.


Annabelle :: (picking up her teaspoon and handing it to me) No. Tonight I want a human spoon.


Not a grown up spoon. Or a mommy or daddy spoon. Apparently she had been using fairy spoons this whole time and was ready to move into human sized flatware. After a big piece of pie we read the last chapter of Mary's Little Donkey and Annabelle quickly fell to sleep. I lay there squished next to her in the twin bed, reviewing my day, while Annabelle breathed her sleepy breath on me. It smelled like vanilla and I realized we forgot to brush her teeth. I tried not to let the oversight interrupt my contentment as I relaxed in the darkness. Perspective is everything. Especially these days.

Dancing Girl

Dancing parties are big at our house. A guaranteed weekend event. We all break a sweat.

The girl can groove!

Playing Mary and Joseph with daddy...

Francis

He's getting old, it dawned on me a couple weeks ago. Nearly ten years now!