Dressing Up

So I went to the cities on Friday to watch a demo at Macalester College about how to prepare surfaces for painting. Which meant I wouldn't be in town to pick Sofi up from kindergarten. So I asked the grandmother of one of her friends to watch her until Mary was able to pick her up. The grandmother graciously agreed.

The friend is Zander, a boy that Sofi is very taken with.

So taken that, in preparation for towards play date with Zander after school, Sofi picked out a very specific outfit: pink pants, and a shirt with hearts on it... in other words, she dressed herself to look like a valentine.

At least she likes him for a very good reason; asked why she likes Zander so much, and she will reply "Because he's so funny!"

Signs of Needing Chocolate

"If my cheeks are red, that means I need hot chocolate."

~ Sofi, upon climbing into the mini-van after playing hard after school outside in the cold.

The Bunny Hill

I took Sofi skiing today at Mnt. La Crosse. From the very beginning it was quite the endeavor for Sofi, as it took us a full hour and fifteen minutes just to wait in line for our rental gear. Once we finally got all our gear fitted and on, we joined a ski lesson for beginner skiers.

Of course most of the class was older kids and beginning adults, so Sofi had a hard time keeping up. But she kept at it: first learning how to put her skis on, and then how to turn around while standing in her skis, and then how to get up from a fall, and then how to point the skis in a "v" to control her decent down the hill. It was while practicing her "v" and struggling to climb up the slight incline she was practicing on that she fell behind the rest of the class. And when the rest of the class moved on to learn how to turn and practice turning, she was still practicing her "v", and missed the lesson on turning. So when she finally got the point where she was suppose to be showing an instructor her turns, she didn't really know what she was suppose to be doing, and continued to practice her "v".

Thing was, this was the last step to the bunny hill. Show the instructor that you could turn, and he'd send you on your way to give it a go on the bunny hill. So as the class slowly became smaller as more and more fellow classmates were given permission to go to the bunny hill, Sofi found herself being asked to repeatedly try to make turns as she skied down this small incline. And just getting back up the small incline was a struggle for her. Thankfully she wasn't the only skier struggling with their turns, so she wasn't completely alone in her frustration. This was hard for me as her dad, trying to walk that fine line of frustration—I didn't want to help her to the point that I was doing everything for her (helping her get up all the time, helping her up the incline all the time), because then she would end up relying on me and not learning how to do it herself. But I didn't want her to become so frustrated that she decided she never wanted to ski ever again.

But eventually a breaking point was reached, and Sofi eventually collapsed on the snow, in tears. Since it took so long just to get our rental gear, it was pretty close to supper time anyway, so I encouraged her to take a break and we went inside to eat a couple of hotdogs and chips.

Refreshed from our meal, we brushed off our lack of teacher permission and hit the bunny hill anyway. Sofi was both excited, and a little scared. But with her between my skis, we both grabbed onto the tow rope, kept a wide stance and our skis straight, and yanked ourselves to the top of the hill.

This is where I took a tip from a childhood photo my parents have of me. It's a photo of me probably at the age of two or three, on short little skis, standing between the legs of one of my parents. So with Sofi between my skis again, we headed down the hill, holding her close, coaching her on how to bend her knees, point her skis in a "v" and lean forward.

Immediately she was ready to go back up; more excited about the tow rope actually then going downhill with Dad. But eventually her trips down began a pattern that I suspect I will see more and more as we both grow older: Sofi went from skiing between my skis, to skiing next to me and holding my hand. And then eventually from holding my hand to letting go near the bottom. And then letting go closer and closer to the top. And after many falls, and stops involving her butt dragging along the snow, and many tears of frustrating about how everyone else wasn't falling (which isn't true, but she felt like it was), Sofi persisted and in the end she was going up the tow rope all by herself, and skiing down all by herself, several times without falling.

She was visibly happy and proud of her accomplishments as we walked back to the chalet. I was proud of her too; she went from being someone who had never skied and needed every bit of assistance, to someone who was willing to try to do it by herself and to not give up, and finally to someone who succeeded in doing it on her own, without assistance—all in one afternoon.

As we walked she said she wanted to go skiing again. And when I told her that Papa, Grandma D and Aunt Michelle were all good skiers, she said that she wanted them to take her skiing.

As we walked back to the car, she noticed someone taking their skis and boots to their car and cried out "Dad! They forgot to return their stuff!" And I told her that some people own their skis and boots, and don't have to rent them. Sofi replied, "I want to get some skis... but not 'standers' [poles]... standers make things too difficult". And she wants to take another ski class—so she can show her teacher that she can turn.

A Book About Feelings

Opening up Sofi's school backpack today revealed a workbook that she must have been working on in her kindergarten class at Coulee Montesorri. It was stapled packet of copied worksheets, and the cover page reads "My Heart, A Book About Feelings, by Sofia". The contents were very interesting. She didn't write them all out herself (only the first one is written in her hand), but all the words are clearly of her choosing. I found the list of feelings very insightful into Sofi's personality as it is right now. So for posterity, here it is:

I feel happy when... my dad tickles me on his bed.
I feel sad when... my brother gets toys.
I feel silly when... I tell jokes.
I feel angry when... Isaac broke my ornament.
I feel scared when... there's a bump in my bed.
I feel good when... when my brother plays with me.
I feel bad when... my brother won't play with me.
I feel loved when... mama puts the radio on and snuggles with me.

Waiting Through Winter

"It seems like summer is taking forever... I'm tired of waiting.
I'll be 18 before summer comes again."
~ Sofi

blessings

This past weekend Andy and I left Sofi and Isaac with aunt Michelle overnight and had some time to reconnect with each other and some good friends. It was a good time for all of us, kids included. Tonight when we got home they seemed just a little bit cuter and sweeter than usual. Sofi had been keeping a journal over the weekend and showed me her entries about going to the airport (to pick up grandpa and grandma home from Mexico) and going swimming. The best part was that I could actually read the words she was writing! She also had entries about people she loves (" I love mi familee" and also Zander, Ava, and DVDs) The spellings were creative but decipherable and she had illustrations to match.

When snuggling later she asked me what the rules of our family were. In my teaching experience I have learned that the best rules are the broad ones, so I chose "We respect each other and ourselves, we love each other, we love ourselves and we love God" She seemed satisfied but asked the house rules. I replied "Wash hands after you go potty, eat in the dining room sitting down and don't jump on furniture". She asked why I've never told her the rules?! I said that I thought she's pick them up by just watching us. So I asked her if she'd been talking about rules at school or something and she said "no. Aunt Michelle just said that there are no rules when we have a girls' night" (you are so busted Michelle!! :-) I said that girls nights must really be something special :-)

Isaac was his usual uncooperative-three-year-old-ness getting ready for bed. He finally came around when I threatened to leave. We got his shirt off and he leapt into my arms and curled up like a baby, obviously enjoying my touch on his bare back. Then he quickly got up and threw a mock super hero puch and then shook his booty singing "hey baby hey baby"! Ah the many sides of a three year old. All of them cute and dear (after a night away)! But frustrating again tomorrow, I fear, when the stress of our schedules sets in.

I am scheduled to be gone every night this week (plus Friday and Saturday) with show choir and curriculum fair, cpr class, church meetings and show choir invitational. Andy is gone Tuesday to spanish class and Thursday to church council. Argh! I'm gonna let Andy go to the church meeting on his own and beg out of Thursday night show choir set up at school in hopes of keeping a little bit of sanity with my kids.

In the car we listened to a recording of Andy reading "The Cat In The Hat" with the kids. It was very good and will be an excellent snapshot of this time in our lives. In the middle of the story Issac interrupted and said "where's Mommy?" out of the blue. The reply was "at work". And my Mommy Guilt looms. I fear that's what will be remembered when he is older..

And that is a glimpse of my life this February 2010. Happy 39th birthday to me!
Mary

Car Accident

Isaac was hit by a school bus while at day care today.

It isn't really as bad as it sounds, certainly not as bad as I just typed it up above. And he's taking it quite well really.

You see, it was a toy. A toy school bus.

Isaac and another friend were lying on the floor after their naps, pushing this toy school bus back and forth to each other. And on that last push his friend pushed a little too hard, and Isaac (one might say) missed the bus. It came to an abrupt stop after slamming into his left eye.

There were tears, and the day care care-givers applied an ice pack and some TLC, and gave me a call to let me know what happened. By the time I arrived he was fine. The swelling was down. All that was really visible was a very slight bruise and a scrape on his lower eye lid where the bus made impact. And he was fine, no longer crying, out and about in the room.

We took him into pediatrics anyway, and they decided it would be best to have Dr. Weber look at him. So she did. We joked with her that Isaac had a "car accident", and then Isaac spoke up and gave me the idea for this blog: "I ga' hit by a school bus." All in the room thought that was pretty funny. Among other procedures, Sofi's favorite and my favorite were when she put some yellow liquid in his eye and turned off all the lights and turned on a black light. His long eye-lashes glowed all yellow in the dark (very cool); as did the lunch that never was wiped up around his mouth (kinda gross); as did a slight scratch on his eye (the yellow liquid pooled on the scratch, revealing it so the doctor could see it). Thankfully the scratch was in the white of the eye, so there was no concern regarding his vision. The doctor decided to prescribe some ointment for the eye anyway, just so the scratch would heal faster.

Dr. Weber recommended no swimming today, due to the scratch, so he missed a swimming lesson. So while Sofi had her swimming lesson, Isaac and I went to the YMCA's Family Fun Center, and he ran like a dog that got loose from his leash—certainly not like a kid who had been hit in the eye by a school bus.