Dear Sofia,
Why are you walking around on your tip toes? Maybe you will want to be a ballerina and I won't need to chide you into it. Oh, would it were...
Love,
Mom
January 22, 2012
January 21, 2012
January 21st, 2012
Dear Sofia,
You've always loved water, since you were a little one.
Maybe it's because I had my heart set on a water birth.. maybe because I was a minnow myself growing up in 10,000 lakes country... maybe because your daddy is a skiing - water and frozen water - aficionado.
You were born at a hospital two blocks away from a lake, and spent many afternoon stroller rides alongside a lake too. That's just what living on an isthmus does to you, I guess. For living in the landlocked midwest we certainly have more than our fair share of H2O.
We only got to take you swimming once last summer due to our fear of late-summer "bloom" (meaning, bacteria that flourishes in the warmest waters). So we settle for lots of baths during these chilly days.
No sooner have I turned on the water than you come running. Even if it's the sink faucet, you have to find out if it's time for a "baf." If it is, you ask about a thousand times if it's hot. I make sure it's room temperature at most. It's far too cold if you ask me!
You love to play with the water, filling up cups and emptying them out again. The introduction of a small yellow saucepan and spatula has given you new activities - now, in addition to pouring, you can stir.
The one thing you hate is having the shampoo rinsed from your hair. Lying back in the water makes you panic and I don't know why. Second to hair rinsing is when it's time to be done. But, the owl towel (which is fun to use and say) has helped a little. Still, I think you'd be happy to wrinkle away in your chilly water for hours if I let you. Silly girl.
Love,
Momma
January 20th, 2012
Dear Sofia,
Today was your lil' cousin Hoolie's 2nd birthday! Her mama and I are hoping you two will be two peas in a pod as you grow up. How could you not be? You're both the perfect combination of scrappy n sweet. Just like your mamas.
Happy birthday Juliette! We love you to pieces.
Love,
Auntie Victoria (aka Momma to Sofia)
January 14, 2012
January 14th, 2012
Dear Sofia,
It's a challenge every day to slow it all down, tune it all out and just think.
Your dad doesn't have this problem; he can think about something for hours, days, weeks. He can easily compartmentalize. Granted, all the big things never get completely shut out of his mind either. They just simmer on the back burner.
He's also relatively impervious to all things pop culture. He chooses what he wants to know about, as if he has ear plugs permanently set in, blocking out all the nonesense that is the world.
Me, I'm not so fortunate. Why do I know lyrics to songs I don't even like? Why do I know what celebrities are together (and when they inevitable divorce, the supposed reasons why)? Why can't I remember important things like the time of an appointment, or the check for daycare, or when the last time I had my teeth cleaned was, or when I started this new set of contacts?
The built-in martyr complex that comes along with motherhood tells me that I'm always thinking of how other people need to be taken care of, which is why I can't seem to take care of myself. But that isn't true.
I could go to bed earlier, get up earlier, leave earlier, and then I wouldn't be habitually late for work. I could sleep more, eat a more balanced diet and work out regularly, and then I wouldn't be so ingratiatingly self-deprecating.
So why don't I do those things? I could be a better mom if I didn't neglect myself so much. And not in an "I deserve this shopping spree because I'm stressed" way of tending to myself. If I engaged in activities I like - writing, fashion, cooking, reading, travel - maybe I wouldn't be so bored with myself... and end up disliking myself so much.
We recently went to lunch for work to meet our new boss. I couldn't think of a single thing to say, to anyone. Now, I don't think I have much in common with them, but it used to be easier to manufacture conversation. The only time I perk up is when someone asks me about you. I love you to pieces, baby, but you can't be all I've got.
More to follow...
Love,
Momma
It's a challenge every day to slow it all down, tune it all out and just think.
Your dad doesn't have this problem; he can think about something for hours, days, weeks. He can easily compartmentalize. Granted, all the big things never get completely shut out of his mind either. They just simmer on the back burner.
He's also relatively impervious to all things pop culture. He chooses what he wants to know about, as if he has ear plugs permanently set in, blocking out all the nonesense that is the world.
Me, I'm not so fortunate. Why do I know lyrics to songs I don't even like? Why do I know what celebrities are together (and when they inevitable divorce, the supposed reasons why)? Why can't I remember important things like the time of an appointment, or the check for daycare, or when the last time I had my teeth cleaned was, or when I started this new set of contacts?
The built-in martyr complex that comes along with motherhood tells me that I'm always thinking of how other people need to be taken care of, which is why I can't seem to take care of myself. But that isn't true.
I could go to bed earlier, get up earlier, leave earlier, and then I wouldn't be habitually late for work. I could sleep more, eat a more balanced diet and work out regularly, and then I wouldn't be so ingratiatingly self-deprecating.
So why don't I do those things? I could be a better mom if I didn't neglect myself so much. And not in an "I deserve this shopping spree because I'm stressed" way of tending to myself. If I engaged in activities I like - writing, fashion, cooking, reading, travel - maybe I wouldn't be so bored with myself... and end up disliking myself so much.
We recently went to lunch for work to meet our new boss. I couldn't think of a single thing to say, to anyone. Now, I don't think I have much in common with them, but it used to be easier to manufacture conversation. The only time I perk up is when someone asks me about you. I love you to pieces, baby, but you can't be all I've got.
More to follow...
Love,
Momma
January 3, 2012
December 31st, 2011
Dear Sofia,
The beginning of your second year just started and it's coming to a close already. We had the neighbors over for NYE, scattered confetti and you admired the balloons - as you always do. You brought everyone joy with your giggles - as you always do.
You continually surprise me with what you know and how your personality comes out in little ways. Once a snuggler, you're now much harder to pin down; running from here to there, finding baby doll to feed, vacuuming, playing in the fort.. a busy girl doesn't always have time for mom and dad's affection.
But I instituted something called the "nose smoosh" several months ago, and you still oblige me (and now, daddy too). If I ask you for a smoosh, you wrinkle your tiny nose and go in like you're asking for a smooch. Usually you're not satisfied with just one. That's ok with me.
Happy new year to my baby girl.
Love,
Momma
The beginning of your second year just started and it's coming to a close already. We had the neighbors over for NYE, scattered confetti and you admired the balloons - as you always do. You brought everyone joy with your giggles - as you always do.
You continually surprise me with what you know and how your personality comes out in little ways. Once a snuggler, you're now much harder to pin down; running from here to there, finding baby doll to feed, vacuuming, playing in the fort.. a busy girl doesn't always have time for mom and dad's affection.
But I instituted something called the "nose smoosh" several months ago, and you still oblige me (and now, daddy too). If I ask you for a smoosh, you wrinkle your tiny nose and go in like you're asking for a smooch. Usually you're not satisfied with just one. That's ok with me.
Happy new year to my baby girl.
Love,
Momma
December 28, 2011
December 28th, 2011
Dear Sofia,
When I think of all the stupid 2-minute-long videos I watch and then remember I have this blog for you, it makes me cringe. What am I wasting my time on?
Yes, it's ok to admit that there are things in the world besides you that matter to me. Politics, religious issues, societal woes... fashion... But it's not as if everything I spend time on is important. I mean, really! How self-righteous would I be to pretend that what takes me away from "Sofia blog time" is essential?
I will try to write something to you every day. And I will try to do it without expectations (which is really difficult, because I have high ones for my writing and presentation). I will try to write without so much self-consciousness. What a wonderful thing that you don't know what that is.
So... all that aside...
Do you know what we did for Christmas this year? We went to the 'burbs as usual, but this time saw your aunties & uncles (including Jon, who you'd never met before!), my cousins, your cousins (2/3 of them), two sets of Grammas and Grampas (or, "Namp-na" as you say) and my extended family. Whew.
When your mama (that's me) was little, we did the same thing as you and I did last week: drove to one side of the family for Christmas eve, then to the other for Christmas day. Funny how I've tried to get away from reliving memories - and toward making our own - but somehow they ended up overlapping anyway.
You were a very good girl at both houses, lovin' on everyone and letting them lavish you with attention (not that it's difficult for you). You opened all but one present before losing interest, and played with everything at least once. We dressed you up as Santa Lucia and your cousin Connor helped you by presenting the cookies. Since the crown of lights was itchy, I just held it over your head like a halo. Adorable! Thank you for doing that... we haven't had someone little enough for Lucia in a long time. In fact, the last people to do it were adults - your daddy and I!
We have yet to do Christmas at home because Daddy hasn't found the perfect gift for you. He went shopping at will (a great feat for him, trust me) but dismissed everything as not special enough. He puts great thought into everything he does. You will learn that in time.
I'm anxious for you to open your gift from me. In the meantime, I built you the table fort, complete with white lights. This morning you crawled in there with crocheted bunny and read a book to yourself. Just when I think my heart can't fill up with love for you any more, you do something like that.
Until tomorrow.
Love,
Mama
When I think of all the stupid 2-minute-long videos I watch and then remember I have this blog for you, it makes me cringe. What am I wasting my time on?
Yes, it's ok to admit that there are things in the world besides you that matter to me. Politics, religious issues, societal woes... fashion... But it's not as if everything I spend time on is important. I mean, really! How self-righteous would I be to pretend that what takes me away from "Sofia blog time" is essential?
I will try to write something to you every day. And I will try to do it without expectations (which is really difficult, because I have high ones for my writing and presentation). I will try to write without so much self-consciousness. What a wonderful thing that you don't know what that is.
So... all that aside...
Do you know what we did for Christmas this year? We went to the 'burbs as usual, but this time saw your aunties & uncles (including Jon, who you'd never met before!), my cousins, your cousins (2/3 of them), two sets of Grammas and Grampas (or, "Namp-na" as you say) and my extended family. Whew.
When your mama (that's me) was little, we did the same thing as you and I did last week: drove to one side of the family for Christmas eve, then to the other for Christmas day. Funny how I've tried to get away from reliving memories - and toward making our own - but somehow they ended up overlapping anyway.
You were a very good girl at both houses, lovin' on everyone and letting them lavish you with attention (not that it's difficult for you). You opened all but one present before losing interest, and played with everything at least once. We dressed you up as Santa Lucia and your cousin Connor helped you by presenting the cookies. Since the crown of lights was itchy, I just held it over your head like a halo. Adorable! Thank you for doing that... we haven't had someone little enough for Lucia in a long time. In fact, the last people to do it were adults - your daddy and I!
We have yet to do Christmas at home because Daddy hasn't found the perfect gift for you. He went shopping at will (a great feat for him, trust me) but dismissed everything as not special enough. He puts great thought into everything he does. You will learn that in time.
I'm anxious for you to open your gift from me. In the meantime, I built you the table fort, complete with white lights. This morning you crawled in there with crocheted bunny and read a book to yourself. Just when I think my heart can't fill up with love for you any more, you do something like that.
Until tomorrow.
Love,
Mama
October 31, 2011
October 31st, 2011
Dear Sofia,
A short entry. I owe you a hundred more, just to catch up. I will remember these days, when and where and how you took your first steps.. your first birthday party.. the "year of firsts." But you won't! You're caught up in the moments because they're YOURS.
So, I need to be more diligent about capturing them for you. Because maybe, someday, you'll ask me how you were when you were itty bitty. Pictures won't be a complete picture, you need the words.
Love you,
Mama
A short entry. I owe you a hundred more, just to catch up. I will remember these days, when and where and how you took your first steps.. your first birthday party.. the "year of firsts." But you won't! You're caught up in the moments because they're YOURS.
So, I need to be more diligent about capturing them for you. Because maybe, someday, you'll ask me how you were when you were itty bitty. Pictures won't be a complete picture, you need the words.
Love you,
Mama
September 21, 2011
September 21st, 2011
Dear Sofia,
I have expensive taste and I'm not sure why.
Neither your dad nor I grew up in homes of plenty. True, we never experienced hunger or doubted if our lights or heat would stay on through the winters. We would call that "poverty" and many in this country live steeped in it. We did receive free hot lunch at school (once a week) and ate a lot of peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, but I don't remember ever feeling like I wanted something I didn't have.
Now, that might also be credited to my parents, because we were not raised to covet other peoples' things. We shopped at the thrift store, which I never thought was strange. We got new school clothes every fall - $50 a piece to shop, then later it was bumped up to $100. When we could convince mom to give us the money early, we could shop in Chicago on our summer vacation. This was the highlight of my year because we could find unique items, and not have to dress like every one else in small town, MN.
I liked new things - who doesn't? - but was never hung up on the novelty of them, nor on brand names (except for a brief period in 7th grade when I was being influenced by my awful peer group). I simply liked things that were fun, funky and fit well. That still defines my style, though I am more conservative than I was at, say, age 17.
Sometime during late high school I developed a strong interest in high fashion, designer and couture (this is almost like costumes, but is defined by its attention to tailoring and finery). But I only liked it for the sculptural aspects and the creative mind it takes to design them. Bold graphic prints always caught my eye, no matter the designer name, as did ultra-feminine details like ruffles, pink, beading and overall delicacy.
Maybe it's my eye for finely-made items that necessarily translates into having expensive taste, and has nothing to do with how I was raised? I appreciate quality over all else. I can spot a well-made handbag and would pay hundreds for one (if I made the kind of money that requires). I don't find anything wrong with paying for what an item seems worth, be it a bag, dress, pair of shoes or even accessory.
Now, the fashion industry is a trend mill, which can inspire both positively and negatively: seeing runway fashion gets you out of a style rut, and often. But it can also influence you to compulsively spend, trying to keep up with everything you see. As if anyone past the age of 19 actually thinks that's realistic! (Or healthy.)
My penchant for expensive items just keeps biting me though. I don't need these things - far from it - but I want them. I want the structured Fendi bag, I want the Burberry trench. It's a dangerous type of thought, the desire for that which you don't need, and I have to work hard to keep it in check. Thankfully since I am nowhere close to being able to purchase anything I have my eye on, I'll never spend the money and the temptation loses it's power!
Here are a few of my current favorites.
Love, Mom
P.S. Have I already mentioned I hope you share my interest in fashion?
Here's that Fendi bag. In green, to boot.
This purple trench makes me swoon!
Classic Brit.
A little edgy. Love the jacket.
Those shoes!
That print!
The trench skirt, a new classic.
I have expensive taste and I'm not sure why.
Neither your dad nor I grew up in homes of plenty. True, we never experienced hunger or doubted if our lights or heat would stay on through the winters. We would call that "poverty" and many in this country live steeped in it. We did receive free hot lunch at school (once a week) and ate a lot of peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, but I don't remember ever feeling like I wanted something I didn't have.
Now, that might also be credited to my parents, because we were not raised to covet other peoples' things. We shopped at the thrift store, which I never thought was strange. We got new school clothes every fall - $50 a piece to shop, then later it was bumped up to $100. When we could convince mom to give us the money early, we could shop in Chicago on our summer vacation. This was the highlight of my year because we could find unique items, and not have to dress like every one else in small town, MN.
I liked new things - who doesn't? - but was never hung up on the novelty of them, nor on brand names (except for a brief period in 7th grade when I was being influenced by my awful peer group). I simply liked things that were fun, funky and fit well. That still defines my style, though I am more conservative than I was at, say, age 17.
Sometime during late high school I developed a strong interest in high fashion, designer and couture (this is almost like costumes, but is defined by its attention to tailoring and finery). But I only liked it for the sculptural aspects and the creative mind it takes to design them. Bold graphic prints always caught my eye, no matter the designer name, as did ultra-feminine details like ruffles, pink, beading and overall delicacy.
Maybe it's my eye for finely-made items that necessarily translates into having expensive taste, and has nothing to do with how I was raised? I appreciate quality over all else. I can spot a well-made handbag and would pay hundreds for one (if I made the kind of money that requires). I don't find anything wrong with paying for what an item seems worth, be it a bag, dress, pair of shoes or even accessory.
Now, the fashion industry is a trend mill, which can inspire both positively and negatively: seeing runway fashion gets you out of a style rut, and often. But it can also influence you to compulsively spend, trying to keep up with everything you see. As if anyone past the age of 19 actually thinks that's realistic! (Or healthy.)
My penchant for expensive items just keeps biting me though. I don't need these things - far from it - but I want them. I want the structured Fendi bag, I want the Burberry trench. It's a dangerous type of thought, the desire for that which you don't need, and I have to work hard to keep it in check. Thankfully since I am nowhere close to being able to purchase anything I have my eye on, I'll never spend the money and the temptation loses it's power!
Here are a few of my current favorites.
Love, Mom
P.S. Have I already mentioned I hope you share my interest in fashion?
Here's that Fendi bag. In green, to boot.
This purple trench makes me swoon!
Classic Brit.
A little edgy. Love the jacket.
Those shoes!
That print!
The trench skirt, a new classic.
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