From The Mouth of B

"My brain has lots of unicorn names in its head."

From The Mouth of B

In an effort to hurt my feelings:

"I have the biggest brain, and you have a little baby brain."

How does one handle this? Does one encourage the big brain idea? Does one deny, insisting on having the bigger brain? Does one reference science? One certainly does not, in the moment of insult, have any appropriate parenting ideas to hand.

And so, with one's small baby brain, one only stares, and says, "OK then."

First Recital

From The Mouths of B and Mart

Berit was having a tough time falling asleep in her room with no window coverings. Trevor noticed on the monitor that she was sitting up, gazing out the window. He went in and said, "What'cha doing?" She said, "Oh, just wishin' upon that star."

When Andrea was here this weekend, she asked Marta what she wanted for her upcoming birthday. "Berit, Aunt Andrea, Mama, Daddy.." she began. "No," Andrea said. "What presents?" And Marta said, "Just the people. I want the people to be my presents."

All I Want For Christmas

Berit, what do you want for Christmas?

"Barbies. The new Rapunzel Barbie, the Barbie with the dogs and she's a veterinar....(mumble). A boy Barbie, too. Barbie movies. OH! Sesame Street movies, new dance shoes, art supplies, music. And lots of Barbies."

Marta, what do you want for Christmas?

"PONIES! MY LITTLE PONIES ALL MY LITTLE PONIES ALL OF THEM ONLY PONIES!"

In Brief

For many months, Marta has named everything "Turner," until recently, when she's started naming things "Sparklewishes" or "Sparkle." I wonder if this comes from her own persuasion or from big sister, who constantly refers to living creatures with names like "Dreamy Dancer" or "Firework Flower Blossom."

Our move-in date is now Nov. 20. Is someone giving up deer hunting to work on the house? YOU BET HE IS.

I've recently started letting the girls read in bed before going to sleep. I creep in later to turn out the lights and put the books away. They do a great job of reading, then responsibly sleeping, and there seems to be less fuss about bedtime. I think they're probably too little to do this, but then again, can I even remember when I started reading under the covers with a flashlight?

Lullabies

Goodnight, Chicken
by Berit

Good night, little chipmunk chicken
I hope your dreams are very beautiful
full of faries, princesses, and Sound of Music girls
and full of Sound of Music boys.
When you wake up in the morning
you'll yawn and stretch and sometimes you'll gasp and fall back on your tush
and say, "Good Morning!"
and when you eat breakfast in the morning
you'll eat the juice from grapes cut in half
and tomatoes, raspberries and macaroni and pretzels made out of unicorn horns.
Then after you wake up, you like to play firefighter
and drink orange juice.

Goodnight, Chirp
by Marta

Go to sleep, Chirp
I hope your dreams are full of My Little Pony Snowflake movie, Dora and Boots, and Swiper (and Diego)
And when you wake up, you'll yawn and stretch
and you will say, "Good Morning!"
For breakfast you'll have macaroni and pretzels and orange juice to drink.
Goodnight, Chirp!

Graduation, Round One

Everyone, or more specifically, all the mommyblogs I read that chronicle school-age children, is posting about their child's school graduation, from preschool on up. They post first day/last day photos, cap-and-gown montages, lists of things their kids have learned in the past year.

It only just occurred to me, after reading yet another blog about preschool graduation, that I might be leaving my own family out a little on this theme. Like, when all of our kids sit down in their social media classes in the flying-car-future, and the teacher says, "OK, pull up the blog your mom wrote when you graduated from preschool," Berit will sink down in her chair and pretend to have laryngitis. Or carpal tunnel. Or whatever she needs to get out of communicating the way they will in the future.

Thing is, while she technically wore a cap and walked over a little bridge, Berit didn't graduate. She's been in preschool for two school years now, but because her birthday is in February she won't go to kindergarten. We simply put her in preschool the very second she was eligible, which was at age 3 years and one second. She always wanted to go to school. She was born for organized play, and she never, ever had a second thought about not going. She walked into the classroom on her first day, all of just barely 3, and didn't bother to check if her parents were staying or not.

Likewise, when it came time to leave this preschool for the last time -- because she's going to a new preschool this fall -- there was no hesitation. Just, Peace, I'm going to the place where there's a My Little Pony castle.

When she walked the bridge on graduation night, she was first. Very delicately she stepped to the top of the arc and waited, hat sitting neatly on her head, while her teacher told us that Berit's favorite part of preschool was dressing up and that she learned how to walk in a line. I think. It's hard to remember. Marta was screaming the whole time, trying to free herself from my grasp, because "IT'S MY TURN TO GO ON THE BRIDGE!" I'd post pictures but since we've moved in with the in-laws we have no clue where any connective cords are. So, someday. Probably.

Berit has changed in the past year. I'm sure a large percent is due to preschool, the social learning, the reading and projects and playtime. I know preschool is responsible for her learning to write her name, recognize most letters and numbers, and for helping her deal in her own way, in her own time, with the messes made by projects (and learn to accept them, and find fun in them). This last part is the most valuable to me, as I didn't know how I'd work with that a year ago.

She's made sincere friendships, gone on field trips that I'd never have considered, played in the dirt, rolled down hills and took 389 turns on the swings. At least.

Preschool made her brain ready for the day about one month ago, when she suddenly, in a single moment, understood the alphabet and its uses, and started reading. Not whole chapter books or anything, but she figured out how words work and how to sound them out. She's recognizing words at first sight now, and spelling things constantly, and everywhere we go she asks how to spell whatever we're doing, looking at, listening to.

A secondary benefit to this is that Marta is also fascinated by words now, and asks to spell everything and wants to learn to read.

And speaking of Marta, since starting preschool two years ago, Berit has recognized that she has a little sister and has fallen completely in love with Marta, taking care of her like Berit is 12 and Marta is a newborn. It's heartwrenching and lovely and sweet.

Berit's teacher, the wonderful Mrs. Beck, who I wish could be Berit's teacher every year from now on, has told me time and again that "Berit notices the beauty in things that no one else does." Since starting preschool, Berit has commented on the loveliness of words, phrases, leaves, shadows, configurations... It's her thing, I guess. It's something I never taught her. What a gift, to always see beauty.

Since starting preschool, Berit's developed more energy, more spunk, more giddiness. She's gotten super skinny, then pudgy again, then somewhere in the middle.

I think that, at the end of this next year of preschool, I'll be better at pinpointing exactly what she's learned at school alone. But the past two years have been plain old growth for Berit, and while she's not suddenly doing fractions, she is turning into a kindergartner, day by day. Without preschool, I don't think she'd be jumping this high, taking her calculated risks with dirt and energy, loving others so openly or enjoying learning opportunities so readily.

So this is the summer, I think, before things really change from "I have two little girls" to "I have two girls." Before Berit is in school, even if it is another year of preschool, for real and for the next two decades. Before she finds friends who will come to play by themselves and not with a parent, before she can sleep without bed rails, before she loses teeth.

I'm not sad about this, like so many of these blogs I've read. Maybe I'm missing that particular part of my heart or brain. With Berit, I'm always just pleased that she can do the next thing. I think it has something to do with her personality - I recently told a friend, who wished me a happy birthday and wondered if I hated going up another year, that I've always felt like I was in my thirties, even when I was a kid. I think Berit's the same way. Not that she doesn't enjoy kid things. But she's not sorry to leave them behind, because she's got work to do on this next challenge. She's got to take her time, study it, figure it out, test it slowly, do it well a time or two, then move on.

It's my own challenge, then, to remember to mark those milestones, and not get caught up in moving on as smoothly as she does. Before I know it, she's going to be in high school, wondering what the heck I was doing blogging about books and Marta's going on the potty, when she was searching for beauty and climbing obstacles, so silently and slowly as to barely make a ripple in the water.

Things They Say

M: Daddy, you can't go to work! You're Mommy's friend!

B: I don't want to be a mommy. I don't want the doctor to cut me open to take the baby out.
Me: Um, you don't have to be cut open.
B: So, how can the baby get out, then?
Me: The doctor takes the baby out.
B: How?
Me: The mommy pushes, and the doctor gets the baby out.
B: Where does the baby come out, then?
Me: Hm?
B: Where? Like, on the mommy's body? Where. Does. The. Baby. Come. Out??
Me: So sorry, gotta get these zoo tickets. Let's talk about this later.

In bed, in the same room, at my sister's house:
M: BERIT! I love you.
B: I love you too, Marta.
M: And I love YOU!
B: And I love YOU!
M: You're my best friend.
B: I know, you're my best friend, too.

Reading

Because I'm such a reader myself, I had assumed that Berit would be one, too. And she does love books -- most nights not going to sleep until she's had time to read a stack on her own, after the ones we read together. But I never saw a spark for it, or, let's just be honest, an advanced level of comprehension or ability. Yes, I expected it. She was my first -- I also expected her to wean herself, eat baby food from jars and sleep with predictability.

But tonight, while sitting up in bed reading her stack, she called me. I went in and she pointed to every letter of every word, whether uppercase (which they go over but don't really push in preschool) and lowercase (which they don't do at all), then told me what they spelled. I know she memorized the words, but still. Still. She was so proud of herself, and can't wait to take the book to school and show her teacher.

For the record, the book is Ariel's Friends. Groundbreaking, no. Heart melting, yes.

Berit's "Best Night Ever."

Last night, as we were running through a parking garage, Berit said, "Mom, this is my favorite part of the night."

We were singing "Let's go to the movies..." from the movie Annie while we ran from our car to DeVos Hall, where we were to see The Lord of the Dance.

Berit has long been enamored with Irish dancing, ever since she saw it on a kids' program. She's tried doing it for the past year or so in the living room, and routinely asks when she'll learn. Our local program starts the kids at 5, so she's waiting. She claims to love it even more than ballet.

So when I saw that Grand Rapids was hosting The Lord of the Dance, I bought tickets. It was exactly how I hoped it would be, and instead of watching the show, I watched her face. It wasn't just that she was enthralled, caught up, totally into it. She was at home. I had wondered if she'd be aching to dance on the sidelines or would be over it in about an hour, but she sat on my lap, spine straight up, never relaxing, just... existing with it. Not exclaiming (though there were questions, as I had invented a storyline to explain the "pirates" and the hooded figures holding torches and the fight scenes), not moving her feet (though she did try, once, to move them as quickly as the show's star and realized that, of course she can). She just sat up, for two hours, and studied everything.

There were two bits of comic relief. When a singer came onstage in a long evening gown, Berit was enchanted by her air of loveliness (though the singing? Oddly not great) and during a pause in her song, when the room was completely quiet, she said loudly, "Her lips are as red as a rose!"

And later, during a STRIPTEASE, the girls tore off their dresses to reveal black undergarments and another lull in music carried my motherly "Oh MY" right through the hall.

Afterward in the car, when I asked if she wanted to watch a movie as we started our long drive home, she first requested Sleeping Beauty (which she insists we call "Aurora") but then decided she didn't want anything with scary people and asked for Mary Poppins. I said, "Are you feeling a little silly inside from the pirates?" And she said "Yes, that really is how I feel." And later, "Mom, I'm still feeling silly from those pirates." So we talked about the dancers, how one stuck his tongue out to prove he was really pretending, how at the end they took their masks off and danced and laughed. Then she was OK and went to sleep.

The real gem of the night, though, didn't happen at the show. It was the turnout beforehand, at dinner. My family will think I'm the one being silly but when they met us for dinner -- my whole family, my mom and dad, brother and sister -- I was completely touched. I live three hours away, and they all live within an hour of one another. I miss them terribly. Knowing that they would all get together just because I came to town for a few hours was so important. They fawned over Berit of course, and I talked too loudly and made stupid jokes to cover how weepy I felt by having everyone together, all dressed lovely for a special dinner. I know they go out for fancy nights and it's not a big deal, but it was for me. I don't do that these days. I don't get dressed up, order appetizers and desserts and cocktails and have people put napkins on my lap. I show up and ask my dad for some cash for the parking garage, that's what I do. And I could, because he was there and my dad, not three hours away. Oh this is funny and stupid, but I've got tears writing it. Maybe some of you will understand. There's just something about knowing your family is there. Anyway.

Berit fell asleep at midnight, and while she slept in her carseat, she sang.

Briefs

Wildlife
We have a bird. Berit's named him Bladdy. He lives in a tiny little nest at the top of the column out the front door. He's starting to get used to us, but he doesn't stick around when we go in and out of the door. Hoping to hear the sound of baby birds! Hm. Better revise my pronouns...

Attitude
Berit, always dramatic, has had this attitude reminiscent of me at age 13. She comes down the stairs in the morning with a look of boredom and slight disdain, accepts the parental hugs and spends the rest of the day telling people what to do, talking back, and getting in trouble for both. Of course she is wonderful, but I do feel like every time she walks into the room lately, things get tense for all. Terrible 4s? Early adolescence?

Preschool
We finally made a decision about Berit's preschool for next year. We hate to leave PCN, but with the new baby coming and Marta already desperate to go to school herself, we just can't swing the volunteering twice a month per child. We're really excited about St. Francis preschool, which holds afternoon class (no more rushing in the mornings), is within walking distance from the new house and is at our church, so it's super familiar. Berit wants to start today. Because they have My Little Ponies.

Marta
What's she doing lately, at nearly 2 1/2? Climbing stairs (up and down), not napping, coming up with I Spy subjects all on her own (so the rest of us have to figure out what she spied), counting backward from 15, counting forward to 20 and sometimes 30, picking out her own clothes, going down the biggest slides, being: fearless, reckless, purposely funny. Every morning she asks, "Can I go to school today?" and when we pick Berit up she asks, "How was school today, Berit?"

Swimming
Last night was our last swim lesson. It's been going really well -- Berit is losing a lot of fear in the water and is taking chances. She's jumping off the bottom step and is trying to move between grown-ups without help (not quite swimming, but sort of leaping and splashing). Marta swims on a noodle completely on her own and jumps off the top step, provided we don't let her go under too much when we catch her. She stands on the bottom step and puts her head under water up to her eyes for a quick second. She's desperate to just take off in the water. Last night I was standing with another mom, her daughter, Marta and the instructor in the middle of the pool. Marta was on a noodle, and the other little girl asked for the one that was floating next to me. I turned to get it, and when I turned back Marta was sinking to the bottom. I know this happens to kids all the time, and Marta was fine after a second of sputtering when I pulled her out. But this has shaken me to the core. I can't get the image of her, helpless, flailing under the water, out of my head. I also know that this is probably only the first time Marta will scare me crazy with her daredevil stunts, but still. I think I'm a good mom, and if I wasn't paying enough attention, what should I expect from other caregivers, like her sitter and our family? OK, this is definitely extreme, but I can't help freaking out a little about this. If you're someone who cares for Marta, I apologize now for the list of warnings I'm going to give before I leave. Also, for the phone calls making sure all is well.

By the way, Marta was back on the noodle -- standing on it, this time, trying to balance in the water -- within minutes. Oh these children; they have no idea what they do to our hearts.

Eggs, Basil and Eternity

I love cooking with Berit. When I was little my mom worked full time and on weekends, too, and we didn't have a lot of time for that sort of thing. When I got pregnant I knew that was one thing I wanted to be sure to make time for -- bonding in the kitchen. Because let me tell you, I don't like to cook and I am not good at it (yes, I realize the two probably go hand-in-hand). I wanted the girls to have a love for cooking that goes beyond putting a meal on the table or even the hunt for the most nutritious ingredients (something I do enjoy).

Marta is just starting to have the patience to stand at a chair while we're baking, mostly because she knows there's a sugary beater in it for her at the end. Berit, though, has always been into it. So today when she had the option of going outside with Trevor and Marta or staying in to make a frittata with me, I was glad she stayed in.

I was chopping onions and she was eating watermelon. She told me that onions smelled like burning toast, and that watermelon and red peppers looked alike but didn't taste alike.

And then she said, "Mom, when our story is over will we all be fairies?"

I said, "What story?"

And she said, "You know. This one. Ours." And she swept her arms around, apparently encompassing our lives.

"No," I said, "when we die we'll go to heaven."

She immediately said "No, I don't want to die."

And so we got into the conversation about life and death, and heaven and God and Mary and Jesus and all the people we love, and a long long long life.

"Mom, after I get married will I die?"

So we talked about marriage and children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren. And doing everything you've ever wanted to do in a life before you die.

She wondered if Marta would die, and with my heart in my throat I told her that yes, we all would someday, and the entire time I prayed fervently in my head, "PleaseGoddon'tletthemdie."

She went back to eating her watermelon, so I dropped it and kept chopping. Then Marta came in and ran up to Berit, and Berit said, "Marta, someday you're going to die but it will be OK because you'll go to heaven and God and Mary and Jesus, and me and Mommy and Daddy and everyone will be there!"

And Marta thought it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard, and they both ran up to the Princess Tower to play.

BFF

Who's your best friend, Berit?

"Marta."

"And Aunt Andrea."

The Birthday Party

We had gathered about 15 of Berit's friends for another party at the gymnastics center in town. The kids have such a blast there, and it's great for the parents, too, because we all get to alternately hang out with each other and play really fun stuff with the kids. Berit really, really loved her birthday party this year. The kids are all at an age where they know each other well and interact rather than play side-by-side. Everyone has a little sibling now, too, and the big kids all help the littles along. At one point I noticed that very few faces had changed over the past few years of birthdays at the center, and the ones who have been added seem like they've been part of our family forever. We are lucky indeed to have such a strong extended family, and such a wonderful group of friends.

"I wish I could be a fairy forever."

Not long ago I took the girls to the mall, and Berit combed rack after rack looking for the perfect birthday outfit. This is what she chose (the shirt underneath even has a unicorn on it).

Berit's Birthday, Age 4

On her fourth birthday, Berit woke up before Marta, which is uncharacteristic especially since she had forgotten it was her birthday. Trevor and I snuck into her room singing "Happy Birthday" and she was pure smiles and bad breath. We had filled her room with 30 balloons and she was so excited when she saw them all over her floor! She came down and immediately got to work opening the gifts we had gotten her: Cinderella nightgown, princess backpack, I Spy princess book, princess activity books, princess headband, two princess puzzles and this necklace, her favorite of our gifts, with a ballet costume on it.

I went to school with her, where she made her birthday crown and wore her special birthday outfit.

We brought snack to school, which she chose about two weeks in advance: tomatoes, grapes and bumble bee-shaped peanut butter balls.

After school (and several outfit changes later) we had a small party with Trevor's parents. Berit had asked for pizza with pineapples on it for dinner. Here she is cracking open her gift from her Uncle Jason, Aunt Steph and cousins Annie and Jemma.

TINKERBELL MOVIE! Favorite.

Here's the Cinderella nightgown from us. It practically touches the floor; very princess-like.

Trevor's parents, "Mimi" and "Gramps."

Of course she's only wearing underpants here. It wouldn't be a holiday if she wasn't. (See also: Trevor's lifetime holiday photo documentation.)

She had requested mint chocolate cupcakes with white mint frosting.

AUNT ANDREA and UNCLE NICK came on the Friday night after her birthday and Berit woke them up on Saturday morning. Truly, the happiest she ever is is when she's with them.

Grandma and Pop arrive! We barely noticed. :)

Gift from Uncle David, who was rushing a fraternity and couldn't make the big birthday party weekend.

This toy is Mermaid Barbie, otherwise known as The Only Toy She Will Care About From This Moment On.

Uncle David sent Marta a Dora toy, and it is also The Only Toy in Existence That Ever Really Mattered.

Bits and Pieces

Berit and Marta have been playing this game lately, where Marta is "Marfa" and Berit is "Carfa." They just run around calling out, "Hey Marfa, what are you doing?" "Nothing Carfa, let's play." "OK Marfa."

At Berit's fourth birthday party she closed her eyes and wished, "I wish I could be a fairy forever" before blowing out the candles.

Moments before blowing out the candles she caught sight of Brennan, age 2, walking up to watch the candle ceremony and she instinctively reacted: "NO, MOSEY!"

Status Update

We've been ... busy! But of course, who isn't? Here's what we've been up to, in brief:

Physicals: We've all been thoroughly examined, tested, weighed, measured and declared healthy enough to bring a new baby into the family.

Home study: We're going in for our second meeting, individually this time, which is two of four in our home study, after which we will officially be linked with the orphanage in South Korea and our waiting game will begin. Not to worry! We won't get bored. We've got lots of required reading and classes to take online.

Well-child exam: Berit is 41 inches (75th percentile) and 35 pounds (50th percentile), and loves to twirl (that's totally medical, right?). She had a big-girl eye exam and hearing test and passed both just fine, with only the smallest beep on her right side being questionable. She continues to have a strong, healthy heart, and any SVT occurrence henceforth will not be fatal. I repeat: We are out of the scary, scary woods for good. Not that she's even had one since before she was born, but a mother can't help but be on guard when her child's heart is in question.

Fourth birthday and subsequent party: I do have photos and a story to go with it. I will post them this weekend. I hope.

Preschools: We have failed to do anything about a preschool for next year. Really, really I plan to go check out the afternoon preschool at our church. Next week, or maybe the week after.

House: First comes love, then comes the purchase agreement, then comes the closing in the baby carriage. We are still waiting for the purchase agreement. Still. Waiting.

Marta: I cut her hair. Just a little, and I saved a ringlet. It was getting pretty fuzzy, and after several consecutive nights of calling her "Larry from Dumb and Dumber," I decided to do something about it.

So, toss in a little family time and fish suppers on Friday nights and that's us in a nutshell. Help, help, we're trapped in a nutshell! Just kidding. We're fine in here.

Interview With A Four-Year-Old

Berit's birthday is on Wednesday, and this year I've decided to start interviewing her annually, using the same questions each year so we can see how she changes her mind as she grows. I pulled some of these questions from the kid interviews floating around on other mommy blogs; the others we just made up as we went along.

Favorite food: Apples, grapes and tomatoes

Favorite vegetable: Grapes

Favorite fruit: Apples

Favorite drink: Juice and water

Favorite cereal: Cheerios with bananas

Favorite books: Princesses and Tinkerbells

Favorite music: Princess music, Family Time (Ziggy Marley), Gemini

Favorite color: Pink and purple

Best friend: Marta and Cate

Favorite thing to do in the whole world: Dance! And fly.

Favorite place to go: Carousel

What do you want to be when you grow up? I don’t want to grow up. I don’t want to be a mommy, either, because I just want to be the big sister. And a dancer.

What does your daddy do when he leaves the house? Go work. What does he do when he works? Talks.

What does your mommy do when she leaves the house? Work. What does she do for work? Talks.

Who is your favorite person to talk to on the phone? Grandma and Aunt Andrea.

What do you do to help your mommy and daddy? Do the dishes, clean up, put away the dishes, help sister get coats on, I like to help clean up.

What do you dream about? Tinkerbell and princesses.

What do you do at school? Clean up, circle time, clean up, sit at circle time, tell stories, tell somebody the talk that I talk to them, then I play, then I go home.

Favorite TV show: The Little Mermaid

Favorite toy: My heart (from Ellen) (Where’s my heart?)

Favorite game: Tinkerbell and princesses, He-Man with Daddy

Favorite restaurant: Bob-In

Favorite animal: Kitty

If you could change your name, what would you choose? I don’t want to change my name. I like my Berit name.

What do you love about Daddy? When he dances with me.

Mommy: When she dances with me.

Marta: When she flies with me.

Mosey: When I give him love.

Where would you like to go on vacation? Grandma and Pop’s and Annie and Jemma’s houses.

What are some of your wishes? Be Tinkerbell. 

What do you want for your birthday: A Sleeping Beauty dress