Oct
20
There isn’t much that makes me feel happier in the world than swinging. It feels like joy and freedom and magic.
One of the things that I remember very clearly from when I was in elementary school is the times when my mom would drop us off at school early. I used to go to the playground and just swing. I think I’ve always been a little bit of a loner. I really like being alone. I always have. So maybe I liked it so much because it was a solitary activity. And maybe it’s because of my disability that there wasn’t a lot I could do on a playground, but I could swing.
There was this extremely tall swingset or maybe it just seemed so tall because I was so small, but I felt like I could swing so high. It was great. I would swing and swing and close my eyes and imagine myself as my favorite characters from the books I read. I’ve always been a reader. I would imagine I was Matilda Wormwood, or Ramona Quimby, or Anne Shirley. I wanted to be brilliant, and strong, and sassy, and brave, and witty like those characters. And when I was swinging I could imagine myself that way. And I felt free and happy.
Swinging always reminds me of being that little girl obsessed with the characters in those books. But swinging also reminds me of being a teenager.
It reminds me of being in love for the first time. I was sixteen. I think it was always a Friday or Saturday night and we would to go to the grocery store and buy a quart of Ben & Jerry’s and some plastic spoons and then go to a park, sit on the swings, and eat ice cream and talk and talk and laugh like crazy and just swing. And I was in love and it felt like magic.
And now I love to see Eleanor swinging. The wind in her wild hair. The silly smile on her face. I wish she liked swinging more than she does. She’s too active to sit in one place for very long. I think she’ll appreciate it more when she can do it all by herself. But watching her swing makes me so happy. I think that one of the best things about being a parent is that you get to be a kid again too. At least a little bit. You get to experience all of those wonderful little things about childhood all over again. You only get to watch this time, but it is still pretty amazing.
Jun
17
I took Eleanor to story time at our local Barnes & Noble yesterday. I was very concerned about how she would do. I expected there to be a lot of older kids who knew how to sit still and listen to a story. I expected her to be so excited about the other kids that she would disturb them by poking and prodding them and talking to them and telling them about Elmo and poo poo in the potty. I expected to have to take her out early.
As it turned out, Eleanor wasn’t the only baby with the attention span of, well, a baby. The only baby who seemed to pay attention to the story past the first 30 seconds was the one who wasn’t walking yet.
I thought that there would be a larger and older crowd, but there were only four other babies and the oldest was only a month older than Eleanor. Throughout the stories the kids wandered around the children’s section looking at other books and each other. I felt bad for the woman who was not a B&N employee, but a volunteer, who read to these uninterested children out of the kindness of her heart.
Although the other children did not seem interested in the story Eleanor was the only one who talked through it. All the other parents commented on how much she talked and how big her vocabulary was. I think they were just being polite. I’m sure what they were thinking was “Does this girl ever stop talking?” The answer by the way is no, unless she’s eating or watching Curious George.
Eleanor did at least pay some attention when she walked up on the stage and acted as if she was the only child being read to, completely blocking the view of all the other children.
Then she decided that she should sit with our storyteller and help read to the other children.
Of course Eleanor’s favorite part was the other babies. She especially liked this little one. She kept telling her “up, up.” I’m not sure if she wanted to pick her up or vice versa. They got along pretty well until Eleanor poked her in the eye when the story lady asked the baby where her eye was. Eleanor was just being helpful.
Eleanor also made another baby cry by touching his shoulder. I don’t think she was being rough, I just think he was a little sensitive, and she can be pretty intimidating. Poor little boys can’t handle my big bold, aggressive girl.
May
20
In my recent post about Eleanor’s favorite things, I realize that I failed to include her favorite books. She is quite the miniature bookworm. She brings her daddy and me books to read to her all day long. The majority of the time she would rather read a book than do most anything else. She is growing up to be very much like her parents in this regard. Thus, I think that her favorite books deserve a post all their own. Here they are in no particular order:
Orange Pear Apple Bear by Emily Gravett is a lovely and charming book with just five words. I think Eleanor loves it because she loves apples, bears, and can say all five of the words in the book.
Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak, need I say more. I think Eleanor loves it because we make wild thing sounds and she does a great wild rumpus dance.
Olivia by Ian Falconer is an adorable book about a energetic little piglet with a great imagination. Eleanor loves the whole Olivia series. She especially loves Olivia’s Opposites because it includes quiet and loud and she loves to demonstrate loud.
I loved Corduroy by Don Freeman when I was a kid. I am so thrilled that Eleanor loves it too. I think she has a thing for bears.
Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss is a classic. We do different voices for Sam I am and the Guy who won’t eat the green eggs and ham. Eleanor loves to say “no, no” in response to Sam’s queries such as, “would you, could you in a box?”
Good Dog, Carl by Alexandra Day such a cute story about a neglectful mother who leaves a dog to babysit her infant. I think her judgment is questionable, but Eleanor loves dogs, and I think Carl reminds her of my mom’s rottweiler Matilda.
Everyone Poops by Taro Gomi Eleanor loves it! It makes her giggle, and when it asks “What does whale poop look like?” She replies, “I don’t know” and shrugs her shoulders.
The Gas We Pass by Shinta Cho, we do the fart noises. How could a toddler not love it?
p.s. I recently started reading The Diamond in the Window, a wonderful blog about children’s books. It inspired me to write this post. If you love children, books, or children’s books it is worth reading.
