Sasha at 2 Years 9 Months Old
Monday, March 8th, 2010
I didn't get March's update done in a timely manner so you, my three readers, are getting a twofer. I could give you a lot of reasons like planning Jimmy's birthday and having houseguests for three weeks, but really I am huge and cranky and lazy. So there. But, since grandma might withhold camp tuition if I don't at least attempt a blog, I am here at the laptop instead of futzing around on Facebook.
Sasha has been a delight these past few months (no, I am not being sarcastic). Kids this age are so imaginative and explorative and giggly. I love hearing stories about her pink dog appropriately named "Pinky" who is inclined towards biting. The futon in her playroom has been a plane, a house, a park, and Trader Joe's. Sometimes it is just a climbing structure but she rarely just sits in it. We have played house on numerous occasions where my hand is the baby, Sash is the "Mommy", and I am relegated to "Daddy". Jimmy usually gets to be "Grandma". I don't know what upsets him more: the gender bending or the additional years bestowed upon him. He does NOT do a very good grandma.
Baking has become a favorite pastime. We have made bran muffins, zucchini bread, and raisin scone-like things. But, Sasha's favorite by far are when I give in (sucker) and allow cupcakes. We have only done it twice (for Jimmy's birthday and for bookclub) but she will reminisce about the occasions for hours. How she poured in the flour and SUGAR and chocolate and helped with the blender and got to lick the bowl, etc. etc. And then the excruciating wait to let the cupcakes bake (I got to hear , "Is it done?" every 5-10 seconds for 45 minutes). But, the best part: the frosting. I think she could have eaten the entire can. As it was, she only ate the tops off the cupcakes. Excessive amounts of sugar does crazy things to my daughter. Once those eyes dilate, there is no going back. The house, the cats, nothing can be saved.
We broke down and bought Sasha a bike. A two-wheeler with training wheels. And, a helmet. She loves it (much better than the trike). I have to lug that bike to every park we go to. Fortunately it fits in the back of my car. I don't know what we are going to do when it gets to hot to use. I was really worried about her steering capacity but I have been pleasantly surprised. She keeps to the sidewalk; thank god for her fear of moving vehicles. It is only when she spots a dog across the street that I become worried. But, she'll usually listen to my shrieking. I don't think I have ever seen a cuter sight than that of her pedaling along.
I think it would take a monstrous-sized tome to adequately describe all of Sasha's quirks. She truly changes each day and I never know what to expect (well, except that she has to be in charge). Some days she is constantly in motion and other days she will sit and brush my hair for a half hour to make me pretty. She likes to make up songs, scribble in her coloring books, run and scream, and wear our shoes. She is scared of Dora the Explorer and bugs. Sasha expects a present every time my sister comes to visit. And, I still love this odd, squirmy girl.
Sasha at 2 Years 10 Months Old
Thursday, March 8th, 2010
This month was the month of THE TRAGIC ACCIDENT. Sasha has been a relatively healthy kid. A few fevers and rashes but nothing major. No earaches, very little vomiting, no allergies...we were very lucky. Until late March. Sasha slipped in the bathtub and hit her chin against the rim. There was blood everywhere. I rushed her to the emergency room where we were told it would be a three hour wait (my daughter was practically HEMHORRAGING). So, we visited Urgent Care for the first time. They did a great job; glued and bandaged Sasha right up (they advised us against stitches because of scarring; they recommended an adhesive similar to superglue in thickness and color). My daughter (after the initial 2 minutes of tears following THE TRAGIC ACCIDENT) was stoic throughout...she must get it from her paternal side. She held still for the doctor and was remarkably calm. I, on the otherhand, was all about the flailing and self-recriminations and hysterical sobbing. The worst part of the whole incident was Sasha had to skip swim lessons for a week. I spoiled her hideously to make up for the guilt of not being able to catch her in time. Sasha was great about keeping her bandage on and not picking at it; Jimmy not so much. He was desperate to rip off the fraying edges and I had to slap his hands away quite a few times. It has been almost a month and all that is left is a thin quarter inch line. I don't think she'll have much of a scar.
THE TRAGIC ACCIDENT did not keep Sasha away from most activities and she maintained the same level of motion. We have had a lot of houseguests this month and Sasha has "entertained" them all. She wanted to wake them up in the morning, watch them shower, and comment loudly on any of their bodily functions she happened to observe. It was obligatory to play with her but no one was allowed to touch her toys without verbal permission. Her hospitality knows no endeth. I doubt we will be getting many visitors anymore...
I was worried that Sasha would have no aptitude towards art. This month she can not get enough of it. Everyday we have to draw, color, paint, cut paper, or use playdoh. She has just started making faces. They are wierd, ghost-y looking things but I love them. It's all I can do not to frame them and put the masterpieces all over the house. I am always after her to draw the faces but some days we are back to rainbows and poo. Or scribbles. Like most geniuses, Sasha is very tempermental.
Sasha has developed a shoe fetish. She has always adored footwear but this has blossomed into an obsession. We can't get within 10 feet of a shoe store. The more spangly and high heeled, the better. At Tot Town (an indoor play area), she'll run for the dress-up heels and shuffle along for an hour. Her favorite babysitter is the one with the six inch spikes. I have talked to Sasha about bunions and the achilles tendon shortening but she couldn't care less. When we went to get her summer shoes, she insisted on trying on every sandal in the store. She even went over to the boys' side.
My daughter also has decided that she gets to pick her clothes in the morning. She has delivered a lot of lurid fashion statements. On most days, I won't fight the battle but it kills me that she has all these beautiful dresses and she wants to wear the raggedy pink polka dot shorts with an orange shirt. Don't even get me started about the hair. We stage World War III every morning as I try to drag a brush through that knotted, crazed hair. Detangler cream is everywhere by the time I am done. And, she won't sit still for braids or even a decent part. We are not cutting the hair, though. I love the curls too much and have waited too long for it to be of girl length. Poor kid.
Sasha is a fine Jew. Jimmy took her to an Easter Egg hunt last Sunday because everything was closed. And, guess what? She is terrified of the Easter Bunny. Thought he was evil or something. Wasn't even thrilled about the whole finding of the eggs. Jimmy had to leave and take her to get bagels (with extra cream cheese). She makes me proud.
There are so many stories to tell about Sasha this month. Like how we were at the park and in the minute I wasn't looking, she had plopped herself down with some random kids at their picnic blanket and had a juicebox in her hand. Or the billion times she asks "why" in a day. Or that she will only take a shower anymore (baths are for babies apparently). Most days, my only goal is to exhaust her as much as possible because when she is sleeping in her big girl bed, she is an angel.
