Sidewalk Chalk

"Mommy, draw hopscotch!" I think Bella learned about hopscotch from watching Max & Ruby. I never really knew the right way to play. I always just hopped along, 1 foot-2 feet-1 foot-1 foot-2 feet-and back. But Bella picks up on everything. After I drew her hopscotch with the giant sidewalk chalk she got for her birthday, she asked "mommy, where's my rock?" No rock in sight, I handed her a piece of chalk that had broken off. She threw it on the hopscotch board and hopped around, giggling the whole time.

Next she wanted to draw shapes and numbers: "Mommy, draw number three. Draw a circle, mommy!" I draw everything she wants, and then ask her what number I'm pointing at, or what shape I just drew. She knows all her shapes, and most of her numbers. She is so smart. Then I ask her to draw for me. She has some trouble, and I want to help her badly- I want to just do it for her. But I always step back and just watch. I want her to learn and be able to do it on her own. I want her to be independent and never have to rely on anybody. Maybe it's a deep thought for a day of drawing with sidewalk chalk, but this is where she learns.

Leo watches us from his walker in the living room. Soon it will be the two of them out here drawing shapes and numbers while I sit and watch.



I love seeing my kids grow up. Babies are cute, but I'm not much of a fan of the first couple of months. I love when the personality begins to develop. I love when they figure things out. I love the milestones.


I fed Leo rice cereal while Bella played outside without me. She's a big girl now, and doesn't need me out there with her. She knows the boundaries and stays within them. She periodically comes in to check on me and laugh at her brother. She runs and picks the dandelions and blows the seeds away like I showed her. She picks little flowers and gives them to me as a gift "here you go mommy, pretty flower!" She plays "he loves me, he loves me not" and then sprinkles all the petals in her hair.


She swings on the trees, and runs in the grass, and gets dirt under her fingernails and doesn't care that she's a mess because it's fun. I make a mental note to myself that messy=fun, and think about rolling around in the dirt with her. But my shorts are white, so I keep watching instead.

When it's time to make lunch, she drags a chair to the kitchen counters and uses it as a step stool so she can watch everything. Learn everything.

"Mommy, what you doing? You making dinner?"

"Lunch."
"You making lunch?"
"Yep baby, I'm making lunch."
"Mommy, I do it."

She wants to do everything like me, and I so desperately want to be like her. To laugh at everything. To fall in love with everything. To be satisfied by peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sidewalk chalk.

Make a Wish

We were standing outside in the cold waiting for Miley to do her business when I spotted a lone dandelion. I don't know why they create such a strong sense of nostalgia, but at the sight of one I am innocent once again. I remember my mom blowing them with me, and the excitement as all the feathery seeds floated away. Something possibly small and insignificant, but so very important for whatever reason.

"Bella, blow!" I showed her first, and she laughed hysterically. How wonderful to be a child. How wonderful to find the greatest joy in the smallest things in life. I'm always reminded of the scene in Knocked Up when Paul Rudd's character is brooding over the fact that he wishes he loved anything as much as his kids loved bubbles. Why do we allow ourselves to be so unhappy when we grow older?

"Mommy, make a wish?" She asks, still relating "blow" to birthdays. Knowing her birthday is soon makes it even more relevant. I go with it. "Yep baby, make a wish." And as we watch the seeds fly away with the breeze, I make a wish to make every moment a "bubble moment" so I can hold on to the elation from times like this forever.

Farmville