Lessons in Doing it Yourself

Thora is a budding individual, complete with strong impulses to do things on her own. This new Thora often rears her head at times when I would prefer to be a hands-on Mom, e.g. when she boldly, one might even say, audaciously, crosses the wobbly, tight-rope-esque plank on the big kids' playground equipment at the park, which often catches me completely unprepared since this is the same toddler who thinks and over-thinks how to step off a ledge with a 2-inch drop. Or when, like pictured, she is determined to push her stroller. Most of the time she is pushing with her head down and doesn't notice that I'm steering. However, sometimes she does look up and then I can practically read her thoughts in that irritated expression. It says: "Mother!" And so I let go and watch as she immediately steers the stroller straight into somebody's fence.

But the other day, this new, determined Thora and her newfound will had unexpected results. Well not really all that unexpected, as you will surely guess after you read the next line. So Thora was drinking a smoothie... See, you probably know where this is going already right? I kind of knew too. However, Thora had NO idea.

So I've been making her smoothies and then pouring them back into the washed containers of the Stonyfield yogurt drink that she loves. (The Deception begins!) I bought a package of straws, too, so she can have a bit more control over the experience. I think it's pretty unpleasant for the both of us for me to have to hold the bottle to her mouth. I mean, I can never really tell how fast I'm pouring it into her mouth which always seems to result in her desperately slurping at the yogurt that keeps lapping just out of reach of her lips, only then to be drowned by a forced-guzzling.

Anyway, we were sitting there at the kitchen table, I was holding the container and the straw in place while she sucked down the smoothie. That is, until she started to push my hand away, first just away from the straw, and then away from the whole bottle. Of course, the thought going through my head was, "I ain't trying to hear this," and so I kept at it, trying to maintain a maximum amount of control with just my fingertips. But Thora wasn't having it, herself surely thinking, "I ain't trying to hear this, Mother!" And so finally, against better judgement, or at least, before I had covered in plastic all the surfaces in a 50-foot radius, I let go. I watched as she continued to drink, chug the smoothie, and in just a few brief seconds was convinced that that was all the learning curve she needed. Clearly I was on the very very bottom of my own learning curve. My lesson was that she hasn't learned her lesson. I mean, for pete's sake, I haven't learned her lesson. It wasn't too far in my past, like 3 months ago, that I was holding something liquid, and turned my wrist to look at my watch, and ta-dah! So, with neither of us having any clue where we were on our respective learning curves, and foolish with over-confindence, I walked away. Like 3 feet away, to put some of her lunch leftovers back in the fridge. And as I closed the fridge door, I looked up, and that's when I saw her arm, the one holding the smoothie, inexplicably jump, and the next thing you know... Well, I never had cable growing up. But somehow I caught glimpses of people on Nickelodeon getting "slimed." This is what, briefly, Thora looked like. She was coated in a pale orange seeping goo that completely masked half of her head, face, upper, and lower body. Initially, I was surprised that there could've even been that much smoothie left in there, even when full to the rim. And when I walked away, the container was 1/3 full, at most. So there she was, for a split second, blinking a heavily-coated eyelid, blowing a smoothie bubble from her parting lips, before the sobbing started. Essentially, a midday bath was called for. And I literally rung smoothie out of her shirt after I pulled it off of her. I guess we both have a lot of learning to do. But what is terrible was the thought that I so briefly entertained in the nano-second while I was registering what was happening: Where's the camera?

Poop-the-Pool Signal?

We're three for three. Each of the three times in the last week and a half, when I've made a special point to jog us over to a wading pool for Thora to splash around in, we've gotten there only to find out that the pool has been closed due to an "accident" or a "contamination." I can't tell you how maddening this is. Specifically, because on each occasion, it was close to 90 degrees with 80% humidity and I'd just run 3 miles to get us there.
For now, the only silver lining is that Thora's too young to have dashed hopes. And if she's anything like me, god help us once we get to that point. Perhaps my frustration, to the point of internal tantrum-throwing is because Thora is blissfully unaware; unaware of what she's missing out on, and unaware of my tongue-clicking and my complaints of "You've GOT to be kidding me," which sail right over the jogging stroller's canopy only to disintigrate into angry molecules in the air. Hopefully, once we get to the point when unexpected turns of event need some careful redirection and positive spin, I'll be as chill as you can get. I'll be channeling the "stoned surfer" vibe, who takes each new happening as merely what is meant to be. "Dude, Thora, what a bummer. That's core. But I guess, when we think about it, we don't want to be swimming around in some kid's toilet, right? Hey, let's go sit in on that drum circle over there." So for the time being, I'm going to do two things: 1) Try to stop adhering to the "Someone's Got to Pitch a Fit, And If It's Not Going to be Thora..." theory, and 2) try to figure out what kind of signal we emit as we're preparing for these outings. I imagine that we're unknowingly sending up some kind of "Poop In The Pool" signal, a la Batman, and kids all over the Boston-Metro area are doing as told, just in time for us to round the bend, me desperately scanning the horizon for sprays of sprinkler water, and instead seeing the nearby playground lethally overcrowded.

p.s. the photo above is of our outing to dry land, the big field at the end of Magazine, close to our house.

If I had to pick my favorite 12 photos from our trip to NYC

...they would be the following. Keep in mind, I really couldn't narrow it down any more than I did, hence the "Top 12" rather than "Top 5" or the infinitely more common, "Top 10." But anyway, I think these 12 really capture the trip as a whole, all that we did, and we did a lot.

Elizabeth opening gifts at her baby shower.
As of this posting, she is 2 days past her due date!
And in this heat and humidity!

Tony and Thora. I can't get enough of this photo.

Grandpa Bob wearing Thora in the Ergo.

Visiting the Bronx Zoo. This was definitely one of the major highlights of the trip.
Of course, Thora slept through the first 90 minutes,
dropping off, literally, seconds before we walked through the gates.
Here she is trying to be woken up. Awww.

Awake and loving it! This is by the tiger.

Happy Family

Thora recoiling while trying to feed the goats
at the petting zoo inside the Bronx Zoo's Children's Zoo

On the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art

Thora in the sprinklers at one of the playgrounds in Central Park.
This photo seems to act like a portal for me, showing me what she'll look like
as a much older Thora, like the 4-year-old Thora.

Getting into people's things in New Jersey

Thora loved the bubble machine. "Buh Buh! Buh Buh!!!"

Sean and Thora on Ellis Island,
Lower Manhattan in the background

Trying to Catch Up

It's been ages since I posted anything, and that has partly do with:

1) we were in NYC for 2 weeks during the second half of June, and what with the preparation before and regrouping afterwards...

2) we are in the final stages of buying the condo we're living in and so it has been endless emailing and phone calls and stress

3) Sean is preparing a list of cases for the Board exam that he will take this winter. This case list is due in the coming weeks and so he is working on that during every spare moment, which leaves me with the baby from morning to night everyday, which absolutely exhausts me, after which I find myself sitting down to a plate of reheated dinner and Jezebel and the next thing you know it's 10:30 and I can't believe that missed my 9:00 pm bedtime that I'd been swearing to adhere to since I heard the baby's first squawks in the pre-sunrise hours of the morning.

4) and since I quite narrowly defined this blog by its title, I frequently feel that content needs to be green-related to merit posting, which creates stalling and doubting, by which time the idea or anecdote of a post has evaporated. I need to stop feeling this way.


So there it is. I'm going to be more post-y. End of story.

p.s. This photo of Thora is taken north of the South Street Seaport along East River Drive looking back at the Brooklyn Bridge, specifically of one of four waterfall art installations.