Fall again

It's the time of year when the trees lose their hair, and the ground gets covered in my favorite canyon tones-tree petals of gold and red and brown. The fall always feels so familiar somehow, so beautifully melancholy. A transition time between lush and barren. I always remember thinking on the big changes occuring this time of year...that my life mirrored the transition I observed everywhere around me. Gillian finally came home to us in the Fall. Auspicious things are happening this Fall for us, and seem to indicate that the next year will be ours to make of it what we will-even more so than usual.

Maybe it's the crisp clean air that makes me feel eternally optimistic right now. Maybe it's seeing that same sentiment emanating from others.... like the sweetness of the very young couple at the park the other day-I could feel their new love radiating out of their shy flirtation and lingering touches, and not so vague innuendos. I basked in it. It was lovely. And the Tibetan man and his son bridging two cultures and enjoying this playground in America, Chicago, so far from home... The son wore a Winnie the Poo sweatshirt on top of his traditional clothing and had the smilingest eyes I have yet to see in a child that young. Like he already knew the Great Secret. Maybe he does... At the playground that day, there were five languages being spoken and I had one of those moments when I was struck by how I love that Gillian will grow up surrounded by and appreciating so many different kinds of people. And I am grateful for that.

So the days march forward, and we are necessarily tumbling along with them. We are purging the excesses of summer now, preparing for the cleansing cold of the winter, and the rebirth of spring. The nights are growing longer and the days shorter for a while, until the last bit of life seems still. Once we remember where we come from, everything moves actively toward life again. This cycle is beautiful, really.

We are changing, and our girl is changing...fluid and transient. She is entering little girlhood. She likes getting her toenails painted and wearing daisy hairclips and cooking in her kitchen. As always in Fall, I wait with bated breath to see what and where the world will bring us. So far, no complaints because God is Good.

Savvy

Another little anecdote-this one is about dinner tonight. Gillian was being silly, and, being wise to the dozen cupcakes on the counter that had miraculously made it through 24 hours in the house, asked for one. I sized up how much of the food I had given her that actually made it to her stomach, and told her she needed to eat two more bites before she could have a cupcake. She then proceeded to negotiate. "One bite, Mama." Then took it a step further, picking up a single black bean from the plate. "One BEAN!" (Note: I told her that didn't count, and she did, in the end, eat Two BIG BITES with a spoon, and got her chocolate cupcake).

Grammar and Toddlers

Me to Gillian: Honey, can you give it to me, Please?
Gillian to me: NO, MY THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can't help but love her clever supplemental word in the place of an object of which she cannot yet name. I told her it was, in fact, a Tupperware. To this she replied, "More tupperwares?"

Lightening speed

Gillian is growing like a weed. No, she's growing like a bolt of lightening. Quick and sharp and loud. She speaks in full sentences. She sings a good bit of the words of songs ("You are my Sunshine" and "I'm a little teapot" and (just yesterday) "Lollipop" are new to her repertoire). She draws monsters "with buttons" that have eyes, noses, and "mowfs". And she has added "Oh, Boy" to her exploding vocabulary for emphasis. For example, "Oh Boy, Mama, the monster [has] BIG HAIR" (while drawing) or "Ice cream, Mama, Oh Boy!". Since she has just recently gotten wise to gender (interestingly NOT because she has seen private parts as justification, but just because), I wonder what she thinks that expression means, exactly. Nonni happened to say "Oh, Boy Gilly!" her first hour here when they came to visit last week, and now it's an immutable part of Gillian's vernacular. But, the point is well made that we REALLY (and I mean, for REAL) need to watch what we say and how we say it. I've even taken to saying to the cat on the dining room table, "Excuse me, Kitty, time to get down" as politely as if I were talking to my grandma as to not encourage Gillian's inner hellion. Just yesterday, she told me to "wait there" and that she would "be back in a minute". Later, she told her toy Bug, "just a second" as she walked away to get something. These were before she started down the hall with her basket telling us she was going to work and that she would see us later. It is insane the clip that kids this age pick things up that adults say and do. Her imagination fascinates me too...tonight she picked up the coasters (out of the blue) and told me she was eating a sandwich. I asked her to make me one, and she brought me a book. We ate our sandwiches with lots of YUM YUM YUMs in between.

Last week Nonni and Grandaddy (who, for all intents and purposes will hitherto be called "Gaga" since Gillian doesn't concern herself with learning the proper way to say it) came to visit. I took the week off, and for the first time, really took advantage of all the help. I cleaned out my desk and my file cabinet (and if you aren't in awe, you don't understand what that means-I'm talking "insurance policies from 1993" kind of packratting). I shredded till my shredder shut down in protest, taking a nap until it could bear to eat one more electric bill from 1998. I moved my bookshelves into the living room to make room for Gillian's new playroom in my office (I am selling the desk and file cabinet. They are beautiful and solid oak, together weigh approximately 3 tons, and we will deliver in the City. Interested?). I secured the bookshelves, anchoring them to the wall in my paranoia of having them come crashing down on my child or someone else's should they decide to scale the shelves in search of the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche or the particulars of atmopsheric chemistry. I also cleaned and reorganized the hall closet, which is equally miraculous given it's previous state of disarray and how claustrophobic it felt to walk in there. Now it feels simply expansive. And my cluttered head breathes easier.

S and I enjoyed the help. We went out a few nights (btw-GiGi is now making a delicious Chocolate Martini at the O if anyone in RP is interested), slept in (after making a delivery of The Bean to the grandparents at 7 am), and didn't have to cook. It was heavenly. Gillian, who adores Nonni and Grandaddy, was on every day all day. She could barely stand to go to bed, and the first thing out of her mouth after calling us to come get her in the morning was something about Nonni and having a tea party. And, those of you who know my very extroverted Gillian are well aware that she adores and thrives on attention. She got plenty. We were worried about how she would do when the party was over-when the beloved grandparents had to go home-and we got back to business as usual. Interestingly, Monday she didn't seem to notice they were gone, but she didn't eat much. Tuesday and yesterday she was grouchy and still not eating much. We Skyped yesterday and when Nonni said she had to go, Gilly started crying (real tears) and telling Nonni not to go, but to come play with her (this was lump-in-throat inducing for me). So, her sadness has manifested in a different kind of way. Maybe not verbally, but she misses them. So Much.

All this has made me think good and hard about what it means to have support nearby when you are raising a family-emotionally and physically. It is really tough to be away from our family. That said, it makes us appreciate our friends and our family that much more.

Here are some moments from the past week that I wanted to share:

(Extra B-day)

Tea Party with Nonni

I wonder when the last time Gaga got on a slide was??

Playing music with Gaga

G swinging Elmo

G and Nonni being silly at Brookfield Zoo...

The 'hood

A couple of weeks ago, at about 5:40ish I heard 5 or 6 gun shots through the window. I heard a car tear down the street shortly afterward. Turns out there was a shooting ONE BLOCK away from our condo that morning. This is not the first time we have had a shooting so close (I can think of a few in the past year). The street a block away is a haven for drug dealers, thugs, and gang members. It is *almost* a ghetto near the train station. Frankly, every now and then it scares the hell out of me to have a young child near the riff-raff I see over there sometimes. One day my mother-in-law was out with G pushing the stroller through the middle of a bunch of kids on the sidewalk. They were on the way home from the little family grocery on the Sketchy Street when a car slowed down and pointed a cap gun at the crowd of kids, then they all shouted "GUN!" and hitting the ground. Even though that gun looked real, it wasn't, but it COULD HAVE BEEN.

Here's the ironic thing about gang members-they have remarkably bad aim. They always seem to target one person (usually another gang member) and inadvertantly shoot the 5 year old birthday girl, or the honor student leaving for college in two weeks, or the pregnant mother of two. It's all tragic, but my worries are about my blameless, pure-lit girl getting caught in the crosshairs. It's city living, after all...

It's funny, because in safe Florida, we didn't even lock doors. Maybe that is a thing of the past. I struggle with my concerns because I love the diversity of our neighborhood, I love this city, and I love my girl. I don't want to have to explain what a prostitute is or why she's hanging out by the stop sign on Wayne. Or why drug dealers torch fabulous new businesses coming into the neighborhood because they're afraid their unquestioned ownership of the block might be shaken. I struggle with how to maintain Gillian's innocence with the crazy city world all around us, while being truthful about what it is.