Dear Lulu,
Life is magical.
This morning, I joined you on your bed. You found the tiny music box we got you in Paris and wound it slowly and carefully. I started singing La Vie en Rose with the tinkly-tinny tune. You asked me to repeat it twice. The third time, you studied the tiny image on the box—a can-can dancer, her dress flying high.
You said, “Is she magical?”
“Is she magica?...” I wasn’t sure where that came from.
“Like in the song.”
Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast…
Of course.
I explained, “Ahh…Her love is magical. Her kisses are magical. Just like these kisses. Do you feel their magic?” I kissed your cheek softly.
Magical.
At your 4-yr appt, you were 39 lbs and 43 inches. This appointment really marked the transition to childhood: you peed in a cup, you did hearing and vision tests (with letters, not shapes), and Carolyn directed most of her questions to you. So incredible as a mama to witness.
A few phrases I managed to jot down (though they are endless, and I want to write it all down):
(When her classmate Aydin gave her one of his drawings at school) Nake you! It’s not my favorite colows, but nake you!…(Later) Aydin did a gweat tsob on that.
Seewiously!
I biffo [prefer] if you get off.
It’s amazin.
What would you like to watch?...I don’t know. I have not decided yet.
Guys, let’s compwomise. Let’s be kind to eats uzzo [each other].
Papa, these are tights…Well, they’re kind of the same things, aren’t they?…Tights are these, Papa. Stockings are kind of like boots that hang above the fireplace and you get little treats in them for Christmas.
V starts with volcano!
(Morning routine after bed snuggles) Faust we snuggle, then do leg stwetses, then get up, then get dwessed, than have bweakfast!
Mama, I’ll always be with you. Even when I’m at school…You’ll feel your heartbeat, and that’s me. [OH MY GEEYAD STOP IT]
ween: ring
caowd: card
Tseck!: Check!
paddrin: pattern
wegeeyo: regular
(coloring together) You got some good skills there!
Come on! (as in, “I have to take that medicine?! Come on, Mama!”)
(holding your pretend phone to demonstrate) I did some wohk on my phone while you were wohkin out…Like…4,5,6…
I love you too much…like a thousand.
One afternoon, something happens that I think might make you sad, and you say simply, “I’m not sad.” to reassure me. “It’s okay, Mama” is an oft-heard expression—for example, if I ask you if you want something, and you say no. Always trying to reassure me.
Rudolph is the theme this holiday season. You memorize the soundtrack and sing through all the songs, in order, more times than I can count. Most impressive—and entertaining:
How do you mezzo its way…just by the bwidges…
I am alduspingle, I’m the king of tsing-a-ling
Monstabble snow monsto
A few choice lines:
In New Yohk City I was vewy into Hohmey and Rudolph so I dwew Hohmey and Rudolph.
(Carefully holding a feather from Zaza’s pillow in the taxi on the way to the bus home) This featho is when I always have Hohmey in my howt…
You can count to 10 in Spanish, and you’re incredibly interested in letters and words and writing. You bring me home multiple “dwawin sculssohs” [drawing sculptures] from school on which you write our names, mine as “AMAMAMAMAMAMAMA.” The second one includes “Popopopop” and you explain, “I couldn’t remembo how to write ‘Papa.’ “
You’ve nearly memorized several books, and how I love to watch you stare at the words and pictures, trying to figure out what comes next.
You’re turning into such a stretch (of course). Your belly nearly gone, even at the end of the day, when it used to potbelly out a bit (INFINITE SADNESS). Your feet are ginormous, size 11-12. And I recently noticed, as you practiced floating, that you’re officially the length of the tub.
What an eventful few months! We celebrate your birthday at Taughannock with friends from all circles of your life, a gift in and of itself, complete with a fire in the fireplace. Halloween-themed treats, pumpkin painting, and music with Andy and Amy P. One of your friends from school gave you a “craft” he made himself: A tree made out of pipe cleaners and cardboard. Another friend gives you Frozen dress-up shoes that, according to his mom, he insisted you have. So many friends made you special birthday cards.
We carve pumpkins. You scoop out most of the inners of your perfectly-Lulu-sized pumpkin yourself, then draw faces on that pumpkin and one other, inspired by simple designs shared by Papa. Papa cuts out your designs, and they are, by far, the best pumpkin faces in history. They bring so many smiles.
We have another successful Trumansburg Halloween, complete with the famous Witches’ dance, trick-or-treating, and Janice’s annual party with your beloved local friends. You originally want to go as a witch, then change your mind to “cat” about a week before. We compromise: witch cat. The only witch cat out that night to be sure.
*Note: You are done trick-or-treating after about 10 houses and forget about your candy the following day. We hold onto it, assuming you would eventually remember—but you never do. Miraculous. These really are the good old days.
We make it a few of Amy P’s sing-song music classes at the Lodi library, where you spent most of the time curled into your turtle shell. But we know it's special for you—especially when Amy calls you out: “Emmylou knows this song…Emmylou and I do this when we sing this song…” Another gift in your life.
We attend multiple birthday parties and fly to Atlanta (your second flight) for Thanksgiving.
You follow Kim like a shadow.
Uncle Mike dives headfirst into your wish for stone soup, since you missed the annual event at Namaste again this year. When he asks what you should put in it, you replied, “All the colors of the rainbow!” He even dyes onions yellow and “put it” a blue stone from outside.
The light show at the botanic garden is even more magical for you this year. Someone working there mistakes Kim for your mom as the two of you walked hand in hand. Of course he does! You’re her mini-me in so many ways.
You have the time of your life with Sebastian, your fellow Dutch-blooded friend from last year. Both a year older (he a year or two behind), you wore yourselves out. At one point, as you sit coloring opposite each other, you draw him a picture of a person (him) and write your name upside down. Actually, you draw a mirrored version of your name. Most impressive.
We return for another Rudolph puppet show at the puppet museum, sparking your ultimate obsession for the holiday season and beyond.
We see The Nutcracker with Mema and Zaza in Geneva. Yet another incredibly magical experience. You really do have the best life.
You try ice-skating again and "skate-walk" about 30 feet, unassisted, by the end of your hours-long session. You determined little thing.
We make a go of Winterfest, where Santa and Mrs. Claus walked right past us (!!!) We decided to nix the whole “wait in the freezing, snowy cold to meet them.” The line is absurdly long, and it also feels more magical without that piece. Plus, the odds of you actually getting on a stranger’s lap are zilch—even if he is Santa Claus (or one of his helpers, as you threw out later).
I bite the bullet and take you to NYC for a fun holiday weekend with Zaza! I’ve waited years to do this with you, and it seems a good time to do so.
We trek to midtown for the holiday experience: Rockefeller tree, St. Patrick’s, iconic 5th Avenue decor. The Louis Vuitton display this year: the entire building transformed into a giant suitcase. These are some of the many reasons I love NYC during the holidays.
We see Uncle Michael sing in his community choir, a very sweet surprise for him, you in your pajamas, meeting dear NYC friends.
We trek to the Color Factory for an immersive experience like no other. I was there when it first opened, as a pop-up too popular to close. A room with walls of different scents, a room filled with tiny rainbow paper confetti, a silent dance party disco room, and the final room a giant ball pit filled with light blue plastic balls. You LOVE it, and we have the time of our lives taking horrible photo after horrible photo. For Christmas, Zaza gives you a framed photo of us in the ball pit, only your tiny little face poking out from the sea.
We have a TV dinner night—sushi and It Takes Two, a full reprise of our last visit per your very specific request.
We visit Abigail, Michael, and Doug, laugh-filled fun as always.
We spend a lot of time in Zaza’s apartment, one your favorite places in NYC (if not your favorite). Your favorite activity: playing with imaginary Hermey and Rudolph. Full reenactments of scenes and experiences from your brain.
You ride on subways, in taxis, on elevators, and on escalators. Escalators are a huge hit, even with the moment of panic when you don’t hold my hand as I get on to go down one. I freeze, and Zaza reminds me that you can walk up escalators to save you as you stand at the top by yourself.
You somehow fall asleep without fuss in her bed—in the studio apartment. Amazing child.
Christmas is magical, as always—even though you spike a fever and got sick at midnight on Christmas Eve, out of nowhere. UN.REAL. As always, you're a trooper, waiting in your adorably-slightly-big new flannel Christmas PJs to open stockings until Papa and Pops returned with your medicine. And very patiently waiting for Step 2: The Tree while Mema frosted the coffee cake, etc. I can’t imagine another child waiting so patiently.
When we left NYC, you asked Zaza to “make” you Hermey and Rudolph and Clarice. Luckily, Hermey decides to stay with you after he joins Santa on the sleigh: a stuffed Hermey waits for you near the cookie crumbs, complete with a note from Hermey. I believe it's the #1 hit this Christmas.
We play lots of Red Light, Green Light, celebrate with the Russells that night, and enjoy quiet time together. My favorite time of the year.
Then we spend the rest of the holiday break recovering: first you, then Papa, then me toward the end. One ER visit later (January 4th, for your usual throw-up-coughing), we finally all began mending. Hopefully the new medication dose prevents so much of that horrible experience in the future. (“I frew up free times last night, Mema!” Yes you did, sweet love.)
We recently returned from a sweet visit to Pepa’s house. Always a gift to spend time with him.
And, last but not least, you join me for an introduction to the dentist. After you run outside to the car, you call back, "Mama, get Hohmey!" Of course you need to bring Hohmey to the dentist! Absolutely brilliant.
Our sweet hygienist has the time of her life showing you the chair and the tools. You start sitting in a chair next to us, but quickly make your way to stand right next to us as she cleans my teeth. At one point, you start stroking my hair and putting your head on mine. The hygienist and I are beside ourselves. "I'm crying, " she exclaims. My love bug, always taking care of me.
So many tiny, subtle shifts that add up to you growing too quickly. This year, you spent the week before Christmas playing “Christmas.” You’d gather a ridiculous assortment of items from around the house—toys, circes, nail clippers and toiletries from our bathroom drawers—and put them under the tree for your sleeping babies and stuffed animals. We could only whisper as you explained, your eyes aglow, that “My babies ow sleepin! We have to be quiet! These pwesents ow for Chwistmas tomowow!”
One evening, I watch you bend down to put gifts behind the tree for your sleeping Anna dog, and the way you move is like a sucker-punch to my chest. Like a child, not like a toddler. So sure and graceful, how you crouched and stood again. I remember thinking, “This is one of those moments to hold.”
Other moments:
The way we stretch our legs to the sky together before getting out of bed
So many snuggles—including how you curl into me if I’m facing you in bed and how, if I turn, you immediately put your arm around my shoulder or neck and spoon me (and the one morning you wanted to snuggle by lying on top of me, as you did when you were a baby)
The image of you snuggled under your brand-new (first!) fluffy comforter—pale, blended rainbow colors—your head on your “rainbow cloud” pillow case
During our quiet New Year’s Day dinner, we talk about resolutions. I share mine (slow down, as in literally slow my body down as I move about my day). We try to explain the meaning of “resolution”: something that you want to work on this year, etc.
“What’s your resolution, Lulu?”
You pause, then reply, “Leown.”
Learn. Your New Year’s Resolution is to learn.
You continue to prove your ability to, for lack of a more eloquent phrase, get it.
I love you too much…like a thousand.
Love,
Your Mama
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