Vintage Broadway

Playground

On the way back from our run the other day, we met Daddy and Sam at the playground for a romp. Q is obsessed with the playground these days, particularly slides. She will point out slides to me in photos, in picture books, and as we're passing playgrounds on the fly.
And of course, there's nothing like a playground with Daddy and Mommy both in attendance.
She always wants "up"...up the slide, up the ladder, up the monkey bars, up the stairs, and will launch herself upward with no fear whatsoever if you don't keep your hands on her at all times.
The catwalks cause her no hesitation either - absolutely no fear of heights or perilous perches.

These stairs are among her favorites, and she'll be off and hauling herself up them before you can blink. We have to keep a close eye. We don't hold her, but we do spot her very closely, because they're both steep and metal.
She even enjoyed the ring swing with daddy...look at the joy and exhileration on that face turned up to Daddy!
Sometimes we still slide her on our laps, mostly because we're doing our darndest to cling onto any vanishing vestige of babyhood. But she can and does do the slides on her own these days. It's all we can do to keep her out of the tall spiral ones.

Brush, brush, brush.

It seems like a small thing. I mean, in our daily lives. Seriously, does anyone remember how we first learned to brush our teeth...before we cared. Before we knew the consequences. Before we'd ever felt a dentist's drill? I certainly don't.

But I do now know the slight panic of comprehending for the first time the seemingly insuperable task of teaching a one-and-a-half-year-old - a child, mind you, with exceptionally fragile teeth thanks to her early lack of nutrition and her medical condition - to brush her teeth. Or, at very least, to allow her teeth to be brushed.

Yah. This is something I'd never considered, when I was reading up diligently on attachment issues, types of diapers, sign language, and nutrition.

So it was that after only a few weeks of trying with the actual toothbrush (in the beginning, I just mopped her teeth as quickly as humanly possible with a wash cloth, as the cleft team had advised) Q learned not only to let me brush her teeth top and bottom, front and back, but to brush them more or less effectively herself.
I am so impressed. Oh, man, am I impressed!

In the beginning, yeah, she fought me. She clamped down her jaws, or bit my fingers, or arched her back and thrashed around (briefly, it has to be said).
But these days, she lies back luxuriously in my lap, opens her mouth, and lets me go at it. She only closes her mouth (gently) when she needs to swallow.

We both had learning to do. She had to learn tolerance, patience and trust. I had to learn how to angle the brush so as to target her tiny teeth, without hitting the sensitive parts of her mouth, or her gag reflex.

These days, both of us having become accustomed to the routine, tooth brushing time is hunky dory.
Of course, in the process of accustoming her to the ritual, I ended up brushing the teeth of every toy, book and stuffed animal in her room, every night, for at least two or three weeks. So now, on those nights when she's feeling patient enough to brush her own teeth, she follows it up by brushing the teeth of all her toys as well.
And that's fine.
That's great.
I just feel so... lucky.

Cool new toy

Our speech therapist told us that kids can't normally pedal before the age of 2 (thus stemming our premature urge to get her some form or toddler trike). But when I saw this (and it's toy award sticker) at Target, my eyes lit up. There are no pedals - but you can keep it in motion either by pushing with your feet OR by turning the steering wheel from side to side, which propels it. Ingenious!
Still, I made QQ ride it around the store for about 20 minutes while we shopped, just to make sure she could (and would) handle it. She took to it right away (as you can see, she even figured out how to put her feet up and - more or less -swivel the handlebars), so we brought it home.

First planting

The weather has finally mellowed, and those bulbs that were sheltered from the worst of the storm (those in the lee of the lion) have begun to bloom. I now have real red tulips.
M. and QQ have made a couple of gardening runs, bringing back rich, pungent fertilizer for the vegetable patches, and bright flowers for my flower boxes.
On the first really warm day, I dressed Q up in a hand-me-down Marimekko smock that I have been waiting impatiently to use.
Now, as you know, QQ lives off of the hand-me-downs of others - friends, sisters-in-law, people in the adoption community. But when it comes to handing baby clothing down from one generation to the next, results can be variable. Some things just disintegrate in the interim. Some are not viable by the time the next generation rolls around - either functionally or stylistically.
But Marimekko, the great Finnish textile and clothing design company, holds true. This smock is as sturdy as it was in the 60s, and as stylish.
QQ jazzes it it up with her usual selection of straw hats.
On the bottom left, you'll notice her signing "all done", meaning she's ready to get down off the stool I unwisely tried to pose her on. To those who ask how I get her to pose for photos...I don't. She's actually much better unposed. All these wonderful shots are simply the fruit of following her around every minute of the day with the camera. Someday, she will no doubt grow very, very annoyed with me. But I'll get away with it while I can!
Watering Daddy's vegetable sprouts, recently brought out into the sun.
Gosh, I love this little human being so unspeakably much. It's a little bit frightening.
In case you're wondering what she's doing, she's got a wooden bocce ball in the pocket of her smock. Mommy put it there earlier, and she's now having some trouble fishing it out.
Proudly showing off Daddy's haul of hardy flowers for the flowerboxes.
My family is good to me!
Look at that bright, shining, open face. There is nothing shy, withdrawn or surreptitious about this child. She is 100% open to the world.

Life is good.

Denver in springtime

Our crazyquilt neighborhood in springtime...
I'm not a cat person, but this cat was looking at us with such force, such character, that I felt compelled to take his picture.
Someone's beautiful porch. Note to self: must find these for back patio this summer.
Q takes it all in.
Our old Sunnyside stomping grounds.

Left over from Easter.
Parasols, outdoors and in a bridal shop window.

Sundays

QQ loves to go out and get the newspaper with Daddy of a Sunday morning. If it's his morning to sleep in, then she loves to drag mommy out for it, and then bring it to daddy in bed.
She also loves to sit in Daddy's lap and read the Sunday Times (yes, we still read the NY paper).
I was a little concerned when she started pointing out expensive handbags.
Meanwhile, Mommy was happily engrossed in her coffee and the Design Supplement.