Top ten reasons Monkey belongs in New York...

1) She can hail a taxi cab

2) Alarms & sirens won't wake her

3) Her breakfast of choice is a (fresh! never frozen) bagel

4) She objects to walking slowly and will break out in a run to get there/anywhere sooner

5) Big kids don't intimidate her

6) Dogs don't intimidate her, either, even when they jump on her and lick her face

7) She likes to look out our windows and watch our neighbors (has no fear of heights)

8) She is a fashion plate, and has VERY strong opinions about her outfits and shoes

9) She loves riding the subway

and

10) She likes Derek Jeter!

Again with the feet!

So when I picked Monkey up at school yesterday, I heard all about her adventures.

She took her shoes and socks off, time and time again. She put her socks and shoes back on, time and time again.

She took Luke's shoes off of his feet, and then put them on her feet. Ok, eeuw. But apparently Luke didn't mind.

The piece de la resistance? She figured out how to flex her toes and spread them apart (you know, without using her fingers)!!

Grubby little toes

Monkey has a new habit, behavior pattern, or....fetish.

She's obsessed with her feet. Specifically, the lint between her toes, or any crumbs on the soles of her feet.

She LOVES to take her shoes and socks off, and tear around the apartment in her bare feet. Which means that, on occasion, and especially in the kitchen, she'll get something on the bottom of her foot.

In response she'll exclaim "oh oh," drop to the floor and bring her foot up to her face in a circus contortionist's stance to inspect her foot for the offending object. She'll even pull her toes apart to remove any wee bits of sock lint!

I'd laugh, if I didn't do the exact same thing. Minus the gymnastics...eeeeuww, get that image of our your mind.

After she pipes up with "help" and I brush the crumbs off, she'll say "all better." As if the world is spinning on its axis again. Crisis averted!

I don't know what is funnier. The fact that I do the same thing...or that her misery is self-inflicted. After all, she IS the one who dumped an entire container of couscous on the floor the other night.

Harold and the purple crayon

I think I need to get that book for Monkey.

This morning she took a purple crayon and - in no less than 10 seconds - drew all over our white garbage can, our white recycling container, the stove, the cupboards AND the wall.

She threw a wicked temper tantrum when I took away the crayon. But oddly enough, she liked the punishment of having to clean off the walls!

Bottoms up!

So Monkey has learned something new. She can toast you at the dinner table!

M taught her how to say "cheers" and clink her glass against yours. It is hilarious and so cute!

Of course, Monkey is toasting with milk....we're the only ones who get an adult beverage in this situation. Besides, she doesn't like the taste of red wine.

What, like I didn't tell you about the time I let her try it? Hmm, ok. Maybe later, when child services isn't reading....

I like New York in spring, how about you?

Usually spring in New York really isn't all that it is cracked up to be. Usually we go from our winter bluster straight to hot and humid, with no stop in between.

This year, for whatever reason, we have had a couple of days of nice warm weather (high 70s) with plenty of sunshine and little to no humidity. It's been perfect!

The magnolia trees are in full bloom, as are the tulips. The daffodils already peaked, but the violets and hyacinths and forsythia and the wisteria are in full riot. Monkey spends most of our time outside announcing "flower!" and pointing at everything in sight. The green spaces in the city are full of color.

Across college walk, which is the part of 116th street that crosses Columbia University's campus and is now closed to vehicular traffic, the cheery trees which line the walk are resplendent with little pom-poms of delicate flowers. And if a breeze stirs the branches, petals snow down and coat the sidewalk.

Monkey and I went across college walk today to run an errand, and we stopped to admire the cherry blossoms. I stepped up on the curb (lining the grassy area/garden) and held a branch to point out the blossoms to Monkey. As I did this, the blossoms fell off the tree and showered her....she shrieked with delight!

So, I did it again. And again, and again. Soon, you could barely see her tshirt she was so covered! And her laughter and smiles were contagious...other pedestrians walking by would watch her laughing, and smile. Today was my most favorite Spring day, ever.

A ha!

I've discovered why my little maestro is constantly editing my songs, and requesting a different one: this is what they do at school!

Each day, when they talk to the park, they sing. They sing on the way there, and the way back. (someday I need to hide nearby to witness this, I think it must be unbelievably cute!)

According to Vicki, Monkey's favorite teacher, a kid will start singing their personal favorite (e.g., Old McDonald)....and if the other kids don't want to sing that song they'll either say "no, no, no..." or start singing their OWN song.

It's musical anarchy.

This one's for you, Heather

Tonight as Monkey and I were in the kitchen, the apartment buzzer sounded. Our sitter for the night, Carling, had arrived.

Monkey perked up (she had been mid-tantrum about - oh - something, anything...) and said, with a big smile...

"Daddy home!"

(No, sweetie, it's Carling.)

Monkey paused. Then with an equally large grin she said...

"Heather? "

(No, sorry, still Carling...)

She nodded, and said "Heather bye bye. Bye bye Heather."

(It was so sweet. Monkey misses her godmother!) editors note - me too!

Sentences

It is fun to listen to Monkey's language develop. She's the queen of two-word sentences these days.

The best so far has been "Daddy hug?" - her way of saying please hug me daddy. I know, seriously, all together now - awwww. Stinking cute! I thought M was going to melt into a puddle of joy and love right then and there on the kitchen floor.

Everybody's a Critic

One of Monkey's Christmas presents from Grandma L was a book of songs and an accompanying cd (with recorded versions of what the songs are supposed to sound like, as opposed to my warbling renditions).

While the cd has been used a few times, the book is in very heavy circulation. Most nights, Monkey will find the book and present it to me, asking me to sing to her.

So I sing.

She'll flip open the book to a page, and I'll start singing whatever song is there (with some exceptions of truly unsingable songs, which I ignore). Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Old McDonald, Bingo, Sleep Baby Sleep, Hickory Dickory Dock, It's raining, The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and so on. All the classics are there.

The only problem? Half the time, I'll be only a few refrains into the song and Monkey will blurt out "No, no, noooo..." and change the page.

Everybody's a critic.

My DNA made me do it

Do you think a predisposition to shoes is genetic?

That an affinity to shopping can be inherited?

Is it possible that your DNA will direct you to take every single shoe off of the wall at a shoe store and chortle "shooze!" at the top of your lungs, repeatedly and with animation, until you have spent almost 45 minutes focused on that task (a lifetime in toddlerville!)?

Can genetics offer us a window into the mechanism that prompts you to select pink and silver shoes with flowers on them?

If so, modern science, meet my daughter.

hug?

I just put Monkey to bed. We read Corduroy 4 times, and then I put her into her crib with her blankie, her monkey stuffed animal, and her water bottle. 

I moved to turn off the reading lamp, and after I extinguished the light I heard Monkey's sweet little voice pop up into the dark air....

"hug?"

She wanted a hug from mama. So I leaned over the side of her crib where she was standing, and gave her a hug. She reached her arms around me and patted my back. And then she said "bye bye." My job was done for the night. I'd been dismissed, in the most wonderful of ways. 

I love that little girl. 

Who's in charge?

Monkey and Ollie have developed a new rapport. 

Ollie, for one, is much more tolerant of Monkey, and most of the time doesn't mind when Monkey pets her. Ollie will even approach Monkey to sniff her, and joins her on the living room carpet rug, close to the action. It is really endearing so see Ollie accepting her - especially considering what a rocky start they got (Ollie got depressed after Monkey was born and almost died).

Monkey not only is gentler with Ollie when she pets her, but also now clearly is aware of what Ollie is doing. And sometimes, she doesn't approve. 

That's when we'll hear Monkey bark out "Ollie, SIT down." (She's very imposing, that one!)

Ollie usually licks a paw, if she reacts at all. 

We think it is hilarious that Monkey is bossing around the cat! 

Sand Angel

Friday Monkey went back to the pediatrician to follow up on her upper respiratory viral infection and resulting inhaler - and got the BEST report I could hope for - "clear lungs." Phew! With asthma in the family (both sides) and living near Harlem that has the highest rate of asthma in the city, I was worried. So, for now, relief. And, after tonight - no more inhaler! Whee!!!!!

After the appointment with the doctor (which ended about 3:30pm), Monkey and I walked home through the park. With a 2 hour detour in a sandbox. Yes, two FULL hours in the sandbox. It was a perfect sunny day, 80 degrees out, slight wind, and no humidity. Exactly the kind of weather you want, and rarely get, at least here in NYC. 

The sandbox was a hit. Monkey had fun playing by herself, and also with others. From time to time she would approach other kids and hand them a toy - as if to say here, take this, enjoy. She's become very social that way and it is fascinating to me. I attribute it to the montessori daycare. 

Monkey was so completely filthy that at one point I took off her shirt, and shook it upside down to get (most of) the sand out of a pocket. And then yes, put that filthy shirt back on her....after all, she was going right back into the sand! 

M wasn't with us - he was winging his way to Nebraska to bury his grandpa Bernie Hoerle. Rest in peace, Grandpa. We'll miss you. We were really sad to hear that he passed away Wednesday morning - but since it was unexpected, he didn't suffer through a long illness. And at almost 88 years of age, he'd lived a long, full life.

I was thinking about this, about life & death, as I sat in the brilliant sun and watched my beautiful daughter play in the sand - full of life, healthy and happy. Monkey was on her back throwing sand into the air, and started making snow (ok, sand) angels. I thought "how appropriate" to make an angel....

My little Rooster

Monkey has a new artistic love: sidewalk chalk.

We spent quality time outside this weekend, drawing on the sidewalk and generally getting messy. Monkey looked like a hippy once we were done - her pants looked tie-dyed, she had so many different colors on her! I think I washed our hands 3 or 4 times before I finally got all the chalk out from underneath our nails and ground into our cuticles.

In short, this was a hit.

Unfortunately, Monkey liked it so much she asks for it by name, all.the.time. Why do I say unfortunately? Because she drops the "h" from the word. So "chalk" becomes "calk", only it sounds more like "cawk" or, you know, "cock." Snort.

So yes, my daughter is walking around demanding cock. You know, a rooster! Sheesh, what were YOU thinking??????????

Luke, I am your father

Well, although Monkey has no longer been running a fever, she isn't over this illness. In fact, she has been wheezing and coughing like an old woman that smokes 50 packs a day. So, M took her into the pediatrician's this morning. The wheezing was really making me worried. 

It's been a long week. M and I have been splitting taking care of her during the work day, trying to nurse her back to health, still getting work done, and remembering to sleep at night. Ok, so we do sleep, but we haven't slept through the night all week, either dealing with Monkey's coughing and crying jags, or generally just checking on her to make sure she's ok and still breathing....because you know, at 4am let's face it, we aren't exactly rational.  

We have taken Monkey's temperature so often this week that she actually now tries to do it herself. Oh! I am in LOVE with the Braun infrared digital thermometer. It was actually worth the ridiculous amount of money I spent on it - because it WORKS. I have officially given the one we used to have, made by Vicks that never worked, and given it to Monkey. She tries to take my temperature - an MD in training? So she's not afraid of that any more. Phew! One less toddler-phobia to deal with! 

One the plus side, we are pretty sure that Monkey also will no longer be afraid of the stethoscope. She's got a new, better phobia to replace that one. 

 

Yup, there's a new sheriff in town. It's the nebulizer mask. Aka Darth Vader. M had to hold it over Monkey's mouth and nose for ten minutes. And then, well, it didn't work. So he had to hold it down (and yes, hold her down) for another seven minutes. 17 minutes. Poor thing.

After she wakes up from her nap, we have to fill a prescription for the home version.

"Luke, I am your father." Too bad only me and M will find this funny. Sigh.

A mouse in the house?

Monkey is sick again. Here's hoping it's the last time this "winter" and that soon we are into the cold/cough/booger-free summer months. Nothing too serious, just upper respiratory fug. 

But, she's lost her voice! Now, when she asks for something (that is when she deigns to use her voice instead of whining, grunting, and pointing) it comes out in this impossibly silly little squeak. Quite adorable. 

The complete adorableness (is that a word? hmpfh, it is today) of her voice helps offset the whining. No one likes being sick, and Monkey is cranky.

Of course, when we ask her if she's cranky she says "yesth" and then says "cranky" repeatedly. She's funny.  I swear, she knows which word she should repeat for maximum effect. A born comic, this one. 

Leaving the baby behind...

Monkey is growing up.

Literally and figuratively. And yes, I knew this would happen.

Still, sometimes it takes my breath away to realize just how different she is than the teeny baby with jet black hair (that stuck out straight like she was channeling Joan Jet or Billy Idol!!!) we took home from the hospital.

We just retired her high chair. It was a gigantic red plastic and metal monstrosity, that took up a ton of space in our kitchen. So honestly, I wasn't sad to see it go. Still, sometimes I walk into the kitchen and wonder what is missing.

To replace it, we bought a Stokke Tripp Trapp (used off of Craig's List - score!!). This is a chair that "grows" with the child - i.e., you can take it apart and lower the seat and footrest as the kid gets taller. Monkey loves to clamber up and down, and frequently will request to sit there, even if we aren't eating or coloring with crayons. She also sits on the blue vinyl cafe chairs we have at the kitchen table - she likes to do what we do, and being constrained in a high chair was no longer viable. 

So, adios dear high chair, you served us well. Sorry we had to put you out to pasture....it wasn't you, it was us. No, really. It seems we've just left the baby behind and moved on, I'm sure you understand. 

Conversations

Monkey and I have a lot of conversations. Some of which are actually interspersed with real sentences, spoken in English!

A representative sampling:

Monkey: Sit!
Me: Yes, that's right, you sit in the chair.

Translation: She was standing on the chair and knows better....

Monkey: Preshush?
Me: Sure, you can have pretzels.
Monkey: Yeah, preshush!

Translation: OMFG do I LOVE pretzels! Must scatter them on floor....

Monkey: Ah-bah-dee?
Me: Um, I don't know what that means, can you tell Mama again?
Monkey: Ah-bah-DEE?
Me: Still, no.
Monkey: AH-BAH-DEE!!!!!!!! (going all ugly american and yelling, like volume is a translator)
Me: Yup, um, no.
Monkey: I give up, you are impossible. (ok, she didn't say that, but she sure gave me that look!)