Eugenious

Almost two, waiting in a basket.

On her first birthday, August 15, 2009.

Dearest Elena,

A week ago Sunday, you turned TWO! While I finished up a course in the Wallowas–eating cinnamon rolls baked over a fire while laughing with college students–your Dad gave you the greatest gift anyone can have on her birthday: freedom to choose! When asked where you’d like to have dinner, you said “beach.” So you, Sylvan, and Daddy packed up the van and headed to Florence to build a boat out of sand and eat fish and chips. Yumm, good choice. You even made it back to have brownie-flavored mini-cupcakes for dessert with Avi and Noah.

Does this really need a caption?

Elena on an E, Spokane, July 2010.

Every day, you are different from the day before. Really. What you do right now:

• Imitate any word you hear, often with amusing results. Somehow, when you say Sylvan, it sounds like “doh-doh.” Likewise, when you say turtle, it sounds like “doh-doh.” The other day, when I asked you to say “Sylvan’s turtles,” you knew how silly it sounded: “doh-doh-doh-doh.” You couldn’t stop laughing.
• Speak, knowing that you will be understood by someone. Just after I said to a friend, “My older child translate for my younger? No. I understand her, too,” your vocabulary exploded in early July. I often don’t understand you, but between Sylvan’s knack and your patience, you’re bringing me up to speed.
• Play with play-dough. You like to cut it up, put it in containers, and smush different colors together.
• Climb anything.
• Play independently, often with messy results: sleeping bag piles, drawers full of rubber band/twist-tie nests, book explosions. But, hey, you’re taking care of yourself. I think that, sometime this year, you and your brother can take on breakfast by yourself. You have the will, and he has the skills. You’ll be a cereal-eating team!
• Say “Yes, please” (“Yes, pease”) when asked if you’d like milk or blueberries or cashews. So polite I just want to squeeze you.
• Love dolls, and you’re learning to count them; one is for one, two is for anything more than one. This morning, though, you used the word three–for only two dolls, but you know it’s related to those counting words.
• Joke and laugh. You say “Noooo” with that head tilt that means “I’m not sure if I mean no or not.”
• Have very definite opinions about things. I’m sorry if you sometimes get squashed in the melee of family life. You can commiserate with Aunt Jenny, another second baby.

A rare moment of sadness. Cute, huh?

Two years ago, one of the best things in my life happened to me. You are a burst of positive energy, and we can use that in a family prone to the grumpies. You are full of joy and wonder and independence. I want so badly to be a great Mommy for you.

You told me you loved me on the phone the other night, when I was in eastern Washington. I love you, too, Elena.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Elena,

As the rain pelts the windows and the clouds blow in across Spencer Butte, I look back over photos of you since you turned one – a quarter of year ago – photos that include playing in a fountain and lots of short sleeves. I think about how much slides by, how many new things you do that go undocumented. I want to apologize, to say I’m sorry that I know exactly when Sylvan pointed to a bird and said “bhut” (or I’d know if I could find that notebook…), but I have to stop regretting something I can’t change. You’re a second child, baby girl, and while that means I might not write down when your top right bicuspid comes in, your cheerful presence and cuddly ways have earned you a position of high regard in this family. In other words, we just want to squish you, you’re so cute.

You love to help with laundry and are quite accomplished at taking it off the drying racks and putting it in the laundry basket.

Taking after Mommy (who drank Bud as a toddler. She has better taste now.)

And I haven’t totally been sitting down on the job:

By mid-September, when you were 13 months old, your fun tricks included shaking the water off, which looked like an out-of-control head shake, and saying “fff-fff-fff” for dog (woof?). You enjoyed pursing your lips into a duckbill and breathing loudly through your nose. When the windows were all rolled down and the sunroof was open in the car, and the wind whipped across your face, you squealed with delight. (This was something Sylvan despised when he was almost two. It was a HOT summer of riding around with the windows up.)

Eugene Celebration Parade

When you reached 14 months, you started nodding to say yes. You still use the “milk” sign when you want something, although you started to use the “more” sign at around 14 months, too. Sometimes these two are interchangeable for you when it’s food you want. You also use your version of the American sign language sign for “bird” whenever you see or we talk about a songbird. For your sign, you curl and straighten your index finger. We think you also started verbally saying “up” about a month ago, although you use your arms to indicate that you’d like to be picked up more often than you use your mouth. You might also say “out.” And you definitely say “mamamamama” when you see me and would like to be with me.

For a while a couple of months ago, you calmed yourself to sleep with a singing “mmmmmmm.” I haven’t heard you do that in a while.

Sometime in your thirteenth or fourteenth month, you started to understand nearly everything we said that had to do with objects. I could easily give you a two-part instruction, like “Please go into the laundry room and get your shoes” and expect that you’d come back and sit in front of me, shoes in hand, ready to put on your shoes and go outside. And, while you do have a sincere appreciation of the shoe (we regularly find shoes scattered through the house, the remains of your day), you sit right down when you walk inside, ready to have us help you remove your shoes. Good little egg. You also eagerly sit when food or drink is forthcoming.

Fearless

Fearless.

You are a better listener than the rest of us. Daddy, Sylvan, and I interrupt, get frustrated, and don’t hear each other as we selectively listen. You listen and you act. You may not reliably say many words, but you understand not only a great number of words but also the energy of what’s happening around you.

You have absolutely charmed your teachers at school. All of them would like to take you home with them. When I picked you up on Wednesday, they said you’d rocked a baby doll to sleep when a teacher was rocking one of your peers to sleep. You stood right next to her and twisted your torso back and forth, soothing your doll.

You rock Annie at home.

Your fifth tooth also came in on Wednesday. I can’t believe you can eat all those almonds we’ve been feeding you with only five teeth (I’m kidding; walnuts are so much softer.)

At fifteen months, you have become a much better follower of rules. Because I must say “no touch” so often, you have now started to wait to touch something new. You’ll look at the [plant, baby, cat, trash on the street], then look at me, then sidle closer, waiting for my approval.

Within the last month, you’ve started pointing at your hair, ears, mouth, nose, toes, eyes, and belly button (your personal favorite) if we ask you where they are.

Helpful.

While I keep thinking you don’t have many words, you do show your appreciation for all vehicles with engines by telling us “duh,” a variation of “truck” I think, and any animal other than a songbird elicits a “daw,” for “dog.” (Yes, readers, those sound almost exactly the same.) Just yesterday, you created a sign for “water” that looks a lot like the ASL for “eat,” probably because your hand isn’t ready to hold only your first three fingers up yet.

That said, you seem pretty dexterous. You are a happy tinkerer, wandering around, putting objects in cups, piling them on top of each other, pushing buttons, seeing how things work. You also love to draw – also just to carry pencils around, to my paranoid dismay.

Happy 15 months, munchkin.

Love,
Mommy

Anyone who's ever met Tephra will understand how unbelievable this is.

How else could I carry two pumpkins and a toddler?