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Last Updated: Nov 03, 2009
Ella welcomes Annie June! Ella Aubrey & Annie June 1/23/2004 & 3/28/09 4:21 a.m./ 12:15 pm 8 lbs. 12 oz. / 7 lbs. 5 oz Home Pictures Stories Family Guestbook |
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This evening at dinner, for example, Spencer and I were hashing over the details of last night's season finale of the TV show Lost. Ella, wanting to be a part of things, busted out with a little state of the union address saying, "And the door is closed. Um. And the mirror, and daddy is eating pizza, and mommy is eating pizza." And then just before bed when I asked her if she was ready to get in her crib, we had this little exchange: Ella: The crocodile get me! Mama: (Surprised) Oh, I don't think the crocodile will get you in your bed. Ella: I get in the car. Mama: Yes, I think you'll be safe in the car. Ella: I can jump over the crocodile. Mama: Also a good plan. Ella: Then I get wet on me! (Laughs.) I ask you, does it get any better than this? 5/17/06 - original date of post. I recently asked Spencer if he can remember when or how Elmo became Ella's security object. At present it seems as if Elmo has always been Ella's constant companion, like maybe he slid out of the womb right along side her and we've just forgotten that little detail. His matted fur and dingy nose (despite his two thrill rides in the washing machine) sure make him look like she has been dragging him around since birth. But there was clearly a moment in time when Ella decided that Elmo would be to her what my Brownie Bear was to me and what Spencer's Boppy (some sort of stuffed brown animal - bear or dog? The jury is still out) was to him. I just can't tell you when that moment occurred.
There are other aspects of The Current State of Things with similarly mysterious origins. For instance, the following is a list of objects now living in Ella's crib:
In the middle of all of this is an Ella-shaped space in which our child sleeps. How did we get from Ella sleeping with a couple stuffed toys to our daughter sharing her bed with half of the toys she owns? I can't really tell you. And that's the way it is with so many things these days. When did she begin speaking in complete sentences? When did she learn the words to "You Are My Sunshine?" When did she start correctly identifying the colors of bananas, leaves, and tomatoes? How did she get so big so fast? 5/1/06 - original date of post.
OK, now
Ella & I just took a trip to
When we got to the ballpark, I could tell that she was a little amazed and a little overwhelmed by the number of people, the size of the building and the noise. It's a loud place. She just seemed to take it all in, the big beautiful field, all the lights, the big train above the outfield wall.
We made a sign that said "MY FIRST ASTROS GAME" but alas we never made it onto the Jumbotron.
As the game progressed, every time there was a big cheer (when Morgan Ensberg hit a towering home run) or a barrage of boos (when Astros manager Phil Garner got tossed from the game for arguing with the home plate umpire), Ella tried to curl up in my lap. I think the big noises were a little much for her. But by the time the giant bucket of popcorn showed up, all concerns were forgotten.
For the last month I have been teaching her "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" during bath time. It seemed like it was sinking in, but you never know how she would perform under game conditions. When the middle of the 7th inning arrived, everyone stood up and began singing, and Ella got almost every word. At Astros games they follow the baseball classic with "Deep in the Heart of Texas." Ella nailed that one too. I was kind of hoping they would try Nessun Dorma on the public address system next. . . just to see.
On top of all of that, the Astros won the game in dramatic fashion - the perfect way for the evening to end. Ella's growing obsession with the Astros was well served. 4/16/06 - original date of post. Ella is "row, row, rowing jinky up the street," whatever that means. Observing Ella's attempts to figure out the English language is always fascinating and often entertaining. Here's an example. Last weekend Ella helped me plant our front flower bed with various shade plants. She pointed to one plant and asked, "What"s that?" "That's a fern," I answered. She pointed to another plant. "What's that?" "A hosta." "Pasta," said Ella. "Hosta," I corrected. "Pasta," grinned Ella. The next day we were back in the front yard. Ella pointed to a hosta and said, "There's a noodle. And there's other noodle." Once I figured out how she got from hosta to pasta to noodle, it took me minutes to stop laughing. And then I rushed to record her first synonym in the baby book. 4/02/06 - original date of post. There are certain things about a child for which a parent can claim responsibility. Ella has been humming a little tune lately, one that sounds vaguely familiar. I've heard her sing it to Elmo while strapping him in his stroller, and I've heard her hum it to herself while coloring a picture. When I finally recognized the melody, I laughed out loud. Ella is singing the theme to NPR's evening news show "All Things Considered." And then there are other things for which we don't pretend to take credit - they are completely of Ella's invention. Earlier this week she was scooting down the stairs on her bottom ("Scoot-boom, mama!") when she stopped to say, "I scared."
3/18/06 - original date of post. Spring has sprung in Columbia. Daffodils are showing their sunny faces, and Ella can't get enough of running around in the front yard. There are still a few cold snaps in store for us, but the number of days warm enough for swinging and sliding are definitely on the rise. Our Ella is doing her own spring thing, growing her vocabulary and sense of self, and reaching another milestone - her first haircut. I'll admit I was nervous and sad to let someone put scissors to Ella's precious curls, but the dry ends needed to go. And before long her curls weren't going to be enough to disguise the fact that she had a mullet. (Seriously, I thought the kid would never get bangs.) Amy at Great Clips did a fabulous job shaping up Ella's hair, and Ella sort of dug the under-the-sea theme of the cape she got to wear. She held pretty still and didn't fuss; she just wore this really skeptical, "Are you sure you guys know what you're doing?" look on her face the entire time. And then came the hair dryer. That sent our sweet girl over the edge, and the tears started in earnest. Dad came to the rescue with a lollipop, however, and all was forgiven.
The rest of the day we are going to poke around in the dirt. Last weekend Ella and I planted some tomato seeds in little seed starter pots, (she is a very good dirt scooper and seed hole poker) and yesterday the fragile green beginnings of stalks and stems appeared! Now we've got to get our raised beds built so Ella can help me plant some sugar snap peas and lettuce. Happy spring, everyone.
2/27/06 - original date of post. Good news. Ella seems to be using her mouth for good instead of evil. We have had a bite-free week, so (knock on wood, everyone) perhaps we have passed through the biting phase. Bring on the funny.
Ella saw her daddy walk across the kitchen with a brownie in his hand. Ella yelled, "I need chocolate in my mouth
NOW! Can I have it?"
And then there is my favorite self-admonishment. I once overheard her saying, "Don't lick self." That Ella. She's a mystery and a comedian and a puzzle and a joy.
2/18/06 - original date of post. About a year ago Ella came home from day care with two ugly bruises tattooing her arm. They were shaped like open and closed parentheses - unquestionably bite marks. I remember feeling really sorry for Ella. And then I felt really sorry for the parents of the biter. "How horrified must they feel?" I asked myself. Well, now I know. Ella has tasted almost every one of her playmates at day care over the last two weeks. As my friend Beth wrote in a recent email, "It's like she was reading
Guide to the Terrible Twos, got to the chapter on biting, and is now doing her homework."
The good news is that Ella doesn't seem to be biting out of anger, nor is she biting overly hard. Sometimes she bites when she is excited, and sometimes her biting seems completely out of left field, prompted by nothing but whim. Spencer has had the unpleasant job of picking up Ella every day and asking, "So, how was today?" Translated: "Who did Ella bite today?"
Ella turning two hasn't brought only teeth and tears. Far from it. New words and new skills crop up daily. She pretends more and more, which is fun and funny to watch. She likes to put coasters on the floor and then have her stuffed animals eat off of them as if they were dishes. She is honing her fine motor skills on puzzles of all sorts. She likes to imitate her daddy in the kitchen, making imaginary muffins out of carefully stirred imaginary batter. And she still loves music, going particularly nuts for Beethoven and They Might be Giants, both of which make her gallop all over the living room. This biting thing is just a phase, but her joy and creativity and play we are trying to encourage as much as possible; these are things we hope do not pass. 2/5/06 - original date of post. Greetings from Super Bowl Sunday! Ella's prediction for the day's game? The Seattle Seahawks will emerge victorious. How do we know this is what Ella thinks? This morning as I was putting away her laundry she snatched a blueish-green shirt out of the basket and said "green shirt!" I deferred to her wardrobe choice and helped her dress. When we emerged from her room Spencer said, "Green is a Seahawks color. Guess Ella thinks they are going to win." The random decision-making of a two-year-old seems as good as any method of predicting the outcome of a sporting event. We'll know later today if Ella is correct.
In other athletic news, Ella started swimming lessons this week. She loves her swimming suit and splashing around in the pool. She seems to be getting the hang of kicking and pulling the water with "pancake hands" (slightly cupped and fingers together), but the poor girl can't stop swallowing water. Thursday's lesson was all about trying to get her used to getting her face wet, and every time the water crept up over her chin she sort of gasped in surprise and delight. This of course sucked water into her mouth and/or lungs, and the surprised delight gave way to coughing and hacking. And later burping. Let's hope this coming week she learns to keep her throat closed. 1/29/06 - original date of post. Two. Ella is two. And her being two brings up that other T-word. Terrible. Ella has by no means become a terror. She is a fun and fascinating little being most of the time. But I have to say that on the very day she turned two, she started testing us a little. Bedtime is becoming a bit of a battelfield. For a few months now, putting Ella to bed has been a pleasure. After cuddling in the rocking chair, I ask her if she would like to go night-night with a book. She says "okay." I put her in the crib, I sing her a song or two, make sure she is tucked in with Elmo and silky, and leave. Then we don't hear a peep until 10 or 11 hours later. At least this was the routine until this past Monday. On her birthday Ella began rehearsing what is starting to become a favorite phrase: "I don't want to." "I don't want to go in the bath." "I don't want to go in the crib." "I don't want to go night-night." She also is trying out her negotiating skills. After I sing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" once, she asks, "One more time?" Or she wants me to stay "couple of minutes." When these verbal strategies don't work, she turns on the tears.
If you are a parent, you know how your child's trembling lower lip and big crocodile tears make your heart break a little. I hate to see Ella upset. I also am not a fan of the popular "cry-it-out" method of trying to get kids to sleep on their own. Leaving a wailing baby alone in her crib goes against my parenting instincts. But I also realize that Ella is now old enough to be a little wily. She knows that when she cries, her parents respond with hugs and pats and her favorite songs. So at bedtime this week I found myself singing out, "I love you! Sweet dreams!" over her plaintive wails. The gut-wrencher happened last night when she called through her tears, "Mama! Where going?" as I left her room. I stood outside her door looking at my watch, telling myself that I would only let her be upset for two minutes. 30 seconds passed and her crying stopped so abruptly I wondered if she had hit her head suddenly and knocked herself out. But then I heard her rustle around and sigh. The crying hadn't worked, so she settled down to sleep. 1/2/06 - original date of post. There is something about the holidays that makes Spencer and me want to rush out to the movies, to hold hands in the dark and eat bad, bad, bad for you popcorn. Or a big bag Raisinettes purchased at the grocery store and smuggled into the theater in my purse. Now that we live close to two sets of grandparents and all sorts of aunts and uncles, - actual and honorary - finding someone to baby-sit the Ella bug is a snap. We are so grateful. Getting to have more dates is one of the many blessings of moving back to the Midwest. So today we went to see Narnia, and I cried a whole lot more than I probably should have. But this movie is full of moments where children are left without parental guidance or intervention. Their lives are in mortal danger. They make bad decisions as well as good ones. They are frightened. They are mean. And then they are brave and empathetic and good. I found myself picturing Ella - an older Ella with a British accent - in the place of the youngest heroine in this movie, Ella encountering wolves and white witches and almost drowning in icy waters. I couldn't help it, and the anxiety was almost more than I could bear. I know I've written about this subject again and again, but I can't help returning to it. It's like a scab I keep picking at and can't quite let heal. Being a parent is a scary, scary thing. I'm always afraid that she will get cancer or land on her head or get kidnapped, and I keep trying to shove the thoughts down, but they keep bobbing back up again. Especially when I'm sitting in the dark and have ingested a little too much artificial butter flavoring. I try just to be happy that at this very moment we are all well and blessed. Our families were so generous this Christmas. We are swimming in toys and puzzles, not to mention fabulous food. We hosted Christmas dinner and a New Year's Eve gathering in our very own house. And a fabulous play structure, including swings, slide, and fort is - at this very moment - going up in the backyard. We are about to fly off to Florida to meet Mickey Mouse (Ella), run the Disney half-marathon (Lauren), celebrate a birthday at Emeril Lagasse's restaurant (Spencer), and visit the Florida grandmas (all of us). It is like Christmas every day around here. So I'm trying to be normal, to bask in the glow of the season and be thankful for the generosity of our family and friends. I'm trying to believe that the alrightness that seems to have settled around us will stay a while. I watch Ella playing with her new toolbox or rocking in her kid-sized rocking chair and tell myself that there aren't any wolves at the door, just neighbors dropping off gift bags of cookies and words of welcome. And of course there is this amazing child who wows us everyday with her verbal acrobatics and joyful spirit. Our cup runneth over. Happy New Year, everyone. 12/19/2005 - original date of post. Do you ever have those moments where you are struck by the desire to stop time? Not in order to have a couple more hours to get your Christmas cards written or anything like that, but to preserve how you feel in those seconds for always? I get this a lot lately. When I watch Spencer play with Ella, for instance, I like to kind of bask in the glow of how good that feels. Today he was sitting in the rocking chair, and she brought him all of her stuffed animals, one by one. And then - once he was buried in them - he burst out from under the toys, Winnie the Poohs and Micky Mouses flying, and took her up in his arms. She giggled, and he burrowed into her neck. "Kiss, daddy?" she asked, and he obliged. And my heart flapped around in my chest. I love these two so much. So much. Ella singing affects me in the same way. I sing her a song or two once she is in her crib at bedtime. Tonight her song request was "Jingle Bells." As I sang, she sang along with me, and her little face was so earnest as she tried to remember the words. Her mouth opened wide, and her eyes seemed locked on my mouth. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. And crying. She is so amazing. And sweet. And bossy. And incredible. And really in the Christmas spirit. So am I. Happy holidays, everyone. 12/10/05 - original date of post. We are tired. A new house. A new day care. A new job. But our Ella just seems to take it all in stride. We've had no end-of-day tantrums or sleeping problems. Every day is like Christmas as we unpack more of her toys that have spent the last three months in storage. Maybe it is in fact Christmas that has her spirits so high. She loves the lights ("More? More? There's more!" she exclaims as we drive past houses with glowing santas, stars, and reindeer in their front yards), the music, bows (which she calls stars), the goings on at church. Watch her as she does a little holiday jig, all hopped up on gumdrops from the Advent children's celebration. We hope you are enjoying the season as much as Ella! 11/28/05 - original date of post. At the end of her day, Ella's fuse can be a little short. In fact, the length of her fuse is directly proportional to the length of her afternoon nap. Around 5:30 in the evening she comes at us with a list of demands: "If you even want to think about getting me up to that bath later you had better hand over 12 tortilla chips, a bowl, a whisk, that water bottle, and the car keys, and don't forget to press play on the VCR so I can watch FANTASIA!" I really, really don't want Ella parked in front of the television for extended periods of time. I'd prefer that she look at her books or stack blocks or play in the cardboard box she calls "Ella's house." But when faced with choosing between letting her watch the video and actually getting dinner on the table or not letting her watch the video and eating nothing but a handful of baby carrots because we have to deal with a thrashing, wailing kiddo, I'll give you one guess as to which option I take. At least all of that classical music has got to be doing something good to her brain synapses, right? Right? Now if I can just get her to stop standing four inches away from the television as she oohs and ahs over the dancing mushrooms and bewitched brooms. 11/20/2005 - original date of post. Yesterday morning Ella and I were standing in the bathroom. She was chewing on her toothbrush while watching me put in my contacts. Or so I thought. As soon as I could see clearly, I looked down to where she had been standing and there was nothing there but a limp Elmo doll. I rushed out of the bathroom, down the hall, and found her half-way down the stairs. I flew down to her side, grabbed her elbow and said, "Ella, honey, you have to wait for mommy or daddy to help you down the stairs." I didn't want to frighten her, so I put on a calm face. But my heart was flapping around in my chest like it was trying to escape. Here's the thing. How do I know when she is ready to go down the stairs by herself? Presumably she won't need me to escort her forever. When will I feel confident that she can get from the second floor to the first without breaking any limbs? I'm worried that the answer is never, that I'll be yelling, "For Pete's sake - hold on to the banister!" to a teen-aged Ella (who will be rolling her eyes at her lunatic mother, of course). I've concluded that this is one of the hardest parts about being a parent, this wanting to protect your child from every danger while also wanting to encourage her growth and independence. I want to cradle her close, to keep so much of the world away from her. And I want to turn her lose, to show her airplanes and roller coasters and oceans, to help her recognize every possibility. It's schizophrenic, this parenting thing. The hardest and best thing I've ever done. For now, I guess I'll just take it one staircase at a time. 11/13/2005 - original date of post. Ella has discoverd what her Grandpa Mike calls "the Yoo-Hoo Boo-Hoo." This is a tearless, fake kind of crying that I find less than charming. We are trying to teach Ella that there are more productive ways to get our attention or to get what she wants. Yes, we are becoming "use your words" kinds of parents. I find myself very calmly (and sometimes not so calmly) explaining to her that instead of wailing and grabbing at her picture book after I've read the last page it would be a lot more effective simply to say, "book again, please." But so far Ella seems to prefer dramatic displays of emotion to expressing her needs in words. I think she has more than a little bit of her father's love of the stage. I also think she is venting some stress over the changes that have come her way in the last few weeks with me returning to work full time and her returning to day care. And let's not forget that she is rapidly approaching her second birthday. They don't call them the terrible two's for nothing. Not that she is anywhere close to terrible. Most of the time I enjoy her performances, her leaping and galloping and singing. Oh! The singing. She has such a sweet voice, whether she is warbling about twinkle stars or skipping to my Lou. I'm glad she is learning how to use her voice. Now if we can just encourage more yoo-hoo and less boo-hoo . . . 10/30/2005 - original date of post. Q: How many people with advanced degrees does it take to make an airplane Halloween costume from a cardboard box? A: Two plus a guy who has taken theater shop and a drafting class. But more complicated than making the costume is persuading the kiddo to actually put it on. "No?" she'd say in that funny way she has, the end of the word curling up into a polite question mark. We would try to put the airplane over her head, and she'd protest, "No? Out?" We tried convincing her that the plane was very much like a hat. No dice. We each pretended to try to wear the plane and talk in very high-pitched voices about how much fun we were having. Nope. Finally, we had Mickey Mouse fly the plane, and Ella budged. She watched skeptically as we lowered the plane over her head. Once her head emerged from the box, however, she seemed reassured and pretty delighted to be in her very own airplane. We all breathed a sigh of relief that we wouldn't have to make a last-minute run to Target to scrounge around for some sort of lame princess outfit made out of plastic and polyester. Next year I'm sure Ella will express loudly her opinion regarding what she should be for Halloween, and she might very well want to be a lame plastic princess. Who knows? But for now Spencer and I are calling the costume shots, so an airplane it is. And really, we did take into consideration her likes and dislikes when making the dress-up decision. Her fascination with winged things has not diminished. She always has her eyes on the sky. And have you ever seen a cuter airplane? We didn't think so. Happy Halloween, everyone! 10/15/2005 - original date of post. When I was little I insisted on calling cottage cheese "college cheese." I got the meanings of stove and oven confused. I have a strong memory of repeating the word "comforter" over and over until my tongue began to trip around the syllables and I was no longer sure it was actually a word. As a parent I of course delight in Ella's verbal accomplishments, the way she so clearly articulates "soccer ball" and "animal cracker," but I have to confess it is the things she gets slightly wrong that I love the most.
When Ella asks for "bonbo beans" (garbanzo beans) I can't help but grin. She will bang on the back door with one hand, holding a basket in the other, and plead to go outside to "picky ta-toes" (pick tomatoes). Apparently only cherry tomatoes are actually tomatoes. Regular-sized tomatoes are, in Ella's mind, "baby pumpkins." And in this house the guys who sing "Love Me Do" and "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" have been renamed "The Beagles."
Beyond providing funny stories for us to tell our parents and friends, these mistakes often reveal not what Ella doesn't understand but instead show how much and how fast she is learning. For example, she recently pointed to my elbow and asked, "What's that?" "Elbow," I told her. Days later she pointed at her own knee and exclaimed, "Elbow!" Technically, she was wrong, but the way she decided that her knee must also be an elbow represents a complex chain of thought. Her elbow is part of her body. It bends as if on a hinge. This place on her leg is also part of her body that bends, therefore it must also be an elbow.
Whether she is getting it right or getting it wrong, Ella amazes me every day. She is a sponge, a parrot, a magician, a logician. "What's that?" she wants to know. She is taking in the world, bonbo beans, Beagles, ta-toes, and all. Her days are full of small miracles. We are blessed to bear them witness. 10/9/2005 - original date of post. "Oh, these are a few of my favorite things!" A list by Ella Aubrey.
Of course, my very favorite things are mama and daddy. They're pretty great. And Cooper's not so bad either. If only he'd stop licking my face. 10/2/2005 - original date of post. Ella likes to go. If she is awake, chances are she is agitating to get outside. When we open the door to let the dogs out or grab the morning paper, we have to make sure that Ella isn't right behind us trying to make a break for it. When Paw-Paw comes through the door, Ella greets him with, "Paw-Paw, see you? Pick tomatoes? Outside, PLEASE!" This "please" is said in a plaintive sort of wail, an if-I-don't-get-outside-right-now-I-will-implode tone in her voice. Ella loves to go to the store and ride in the grocery cart. She likes to watch the coffee beans swirling around in the roaster and flirt with the baristas at Lakota Coffee Company. She enjoys touring around the neighborhood in the Radio Flyer wagon that used to belong to her Uncle Sam. But most of all, she loves to visit the library.
Can I just take a moment to praise the public library system in this country? It seems something on the order of a miracle that I can walk into this lovely, well-lit space, watch my daughter gorge herself on board books and puppets and the antics of other children, and leave with an armful of CDs and novels without having to hand over my debit card. And if it is story day (when we are treated to half an hour of songs and stories that are acted out with puppets and pictures by cheery library employees), we also leave with stickers, bubbles, or some other treat. Ella is entertained for a whole morning. I am buoyed up from browsing a volume of Billy Collins's poetry. And I haven't spent a cent.
I like this Ella on the go. We set out each day as explorers. We study grasshoppers and dandelion puffs. Or we hold warm coffee beans in our palms. We make friends with the deli counter lady who gives us free slices of cheese. Or we visit ocean creatures and jungle animals through the pages of books. The world is full of treasures, and Ella follows us around with her shoes in hand, asking to go out there discover them.
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