Freckles

Nyah and I had the most interesting conversation the other day while were chilling on the couch, enjoying our alone time together, conversing about life while the two other young-ins' were napping. The conversation was going really well when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and with such concern asked me, "Mom, what is on your face?" 


I immediately started whipping around my mouth thinking I had chocolate or ketchup or who knows what on my face. I am kind of a mess lately. And she was all, "No, there. What is that on your face?" And I kept wiping and asking, "What, where?" And honestly I was getting a little nervous because she was looking right at something.  


"Dots," she said. "You have polka dots on your face."


"Ohhhh. No babe, those are called freckles."


After a little giggle from her, we were on to the next topic. Probably something about tying a rope to her new house so she could pull it or something. She is big on this idea lately and I am afraid I don't quite get what she is talking about. But I'm trying.


So yesterday I was packing up and organizing and cleaning behind the couches (hello, total jackpot by the way for Nyah, she had a serious reunion with her toys each time I would move the sofa to reveal her long lost doll shoes and blocks and everything else) when I finally realized Nyah had wondered off and was being way too quiet for way too long. I finally called for her and out of the bathroom she finally came with the cutest little smirk on her face. 


"Look Mommy, I look like you now."

Sometimes I wonder if she is listening. But I am quickly learning that she is listening. To everything.


And so this is how she spent the rest of yesterday and part of today because she of course picked the special kind of markers to make her freckles. The kind that doesn't wash off with soap and water or even vigorous rubbing. 


Oh how I love this creative and funny little freckled face girl. 

Welcome to The Good Life

The last minute visits with friends lately have been bitter sweet, both making the sadness creep up my throat that yes, this is really happening. We are moving. And yet the other reality that, yes, we are moving which brings out the tiniest tinge of excitement for new discoveries, really not knowing what is the universe has in store for us but having all the confidence in the world that it will all work out, because it always dose. 


Nyah had a memorable goodbye visit with one of her friends, who she usually hangs with at our playdates on Wednesdays. These two friends have just hit it off from the beginning, they love each other, and I enjoy the the mom time equally as much, double bonus. Nyah got invited to play at her friends house this weekend, really her first time playing at a friends house and I'm afraid it happened. Remember being a kid, thinking everything someone else had was absolutely rad, down to their dishes, siblings and parents? Well, after Nyah's first glimpse of what life in someone else's house was like, she didn't want to leave. She would have moved in if given the option. It all started with this.

The badass Cadillac. Sadly, Cadillacs are one of those toys that my children will probably never own (along with Nintendos, (or whatever they're called these days), and cell phones). Not sure why, no strong reason, they just won't. I have become such a minimalist in ways since becoming a parent. (And I will come back to this post in many years when my children have all this stuff I just listed and remember to never say never, because motherhood always has you doing the unexpected.)

Nyah's friend was like a driving prodigy. Better than me, I'm afraid. She rocked those gears, reversing and spinning the wheel, getting herself out of sticky situations with ease. I couldn't help but laugh seeing these girls cruising around together, Nyah thoroughly enjoying being a passenger. Nyah got behind the wheel once and a head on collision into a tree was the immediate result. We've got to work on that.

The afternoon continued with playing, screaming, getting dirty, and swimming, which by the way was followed by towels heated in the dryer for them to dry off with, and then hot chocolate since they were cold. Hot chocolate, in the Caribbean? Who thinks of this, well this awesome mom did and after Nyah's first taste of the warm milky goodness, she finally gave me a look like, "What the heck, what is wrong with you?" "Stop depriving me of all that is good in the world, woman."


Nyah cried all the way home (I kinda felt like it too, but for other reasons) when I finally drug her crying a pleading out of this kid heaven back to the reality of her life. I am sure this won't be the last wake up call for her, or exposure to the good life. But as I have so often done, after hanging out with people's family who seemed to have it all, I always ended up coming home to my family and being thankful, because they were mine. I hope Nyah had a similar feeling as she was crawling into her bed that night, exhausted, with thoughts of Cadillacs and hot chocolate dancing in her head. 

The Morning Trek

We drive the same route through Christiansted each weekday morning as we make our trek to Star Apple Montessori. Same kids tunes in the back ground, same pot holes making us bounce along, same breeze blowing through the open windows. Everyone fresh as we start another day.  


We see these same buildings and signs each morning and each day we find something new, something lovely. So here is my attempt to capture the beauty. Garbage and dilapidated to many but beautiful to my eyes in the morning light.

The strong, the sturdy, the traditional, surviving the rough island life.

True colors shining through.

Ten Months

Discussing kids growth is so cliche yet I can't help it, it is a blaring sign in my face. As I was holding Nyah before bed tonight I was just made aware of how huge she is.  I know this and I knew this but I was just blown away tonight. Trying to sit together, I could feel the weight of her pressing down on my legs as she was squirming to get comfortable in my lap because she is so long. Sitting on my lap was always a  no brainer for us. A safe haven for us both. 


I remember being a kid and one day realizing I was to big to ask anyone to pick me up just for the fun and love of it. I don't remember feeling sad, just accepting. Though I want to protect Nyah from this, I guess it is an inevitable part of growing up. Learning to stand on your own two feet and be your own big person. I just have a feeling this day is coming sooner than I anticipated or prepared myself for. Thank goodness no one is ever too big to sit in their mom's lap.


Check out this old girl who held her chest out a little farther as she strutted inside after she finished washing the truck with her Dad this weekend. She took such pride in her work because as she put it, "The truck was dirty". Duh. Obviously. She really didn't see what the big deal was.

As I held this sweet girl tonight, I decided to look back in my photo archives to see look if I could find pictures of Nyah when she was Elsa's age, ten months. 

I just giggled, there are so many similarities I am now seeing between the two of them. Same round, chubby cheeks same curious looks, same strong, purposeful crawl.  Funny how parenting works. Seems for me that I get so absorbed on the stages in front me that the memories of the girls before, the little memories, of their nuances, how they move, look, and behave seems to vanish. When everything is happening in the moment, and everything is either pure bliss or I am about to loose it, I could never imagine forgetting what is taking place right in front of me, though sometimes it takes a photo to take me back.


Wish I could keep the snapshot of Nyah on my lap tonight in my memory forever, because I know our future together will blow my mind and though I may not forget the moment we shared this evening, I may forget the details of her little three year old self. 


I breathed Elsa in a little longer tonight, sank my fingers into those juicy thighs and squeezed her a little tighter, knowing that all too soon she will be a big three year old in my lap squirming to get comfortable.