Melting, melting, melted.

Snow, snow, melt away, come again some other day. But not anytime soon.

Leave it to a three-year old to find glee in a stream of meltwater that is carving its way through a gravel path. The bane of Parks workers = hours of enjoyment for Sonja.

This was how we spent our entire afternoon walk yesterday. She kept calling it "The River". It was a grey and rainy day and I hadn't been too interested in going out into the weather, but "The River" made it worthwhile.

And after a night filled with buckets of rain and a surprising amount of snow (I was awake with Haven at 3.30am and managed to see the huge, fat flakes coming down), this incredible blue sky greeted us this morning. 


But Sonja was far more interested in her stick. If you didn't know better, you'd think she was raised by Jett, not us.

Magnet.

We were at a Kindergym this morning and after the third time having to come get her two-year old son, another Mom laughed and said, "that girl's a toddler magnet!" She meant Haven; the boy just couldn't get enough of her.


Usually it is the little girls who fawn over Haven. Here are some pics of a Kindergym we went to yesterday (yes, we go to a lot of Kindergyms):

I'd like to think that it's because Haven's so darned adorable, but I think the reason kids are so drawn to her is because she is so receptive to it. I sometimes watch as Haven observes other kids running around and I can practically feel her willing those kids to come over and notice her. I think it's partly that she wants to be able to join in their play and partly because she just wants to meet them. And when they do notice her and come over to talk to her, Haven is just as fascinated by them as they are by her. 

Haven is crawling now and is very excited to be able to get out into the middle of the action. I spent a good deal of time at yesterday's Kindergym making sure she didn't get run over by kids in Little Tikes' Cozy Coupes, but it was worth it to see how much she enjoyed being in the thick of it, so close to the bigger kids.

And every time the little brown-haired girl (from the first set of photos) ran past Haven, she would either blow her a kiss or stop to pat her head. Too cute.

Table antics.

You would think that since Sonja is two years older, she would be the one entertaining Haven, but I'm pleasantly surprised how often Sonja finds Haven's table antics hilarious.  It can make mealtimes both funny and memorable, but it can also make them very, very long.


The days where I have the patience, I take photos and play along. The days where I don't have the patience... well, no photos and lots of urging (bordering on pleading. I always imagine someone prompting me to eat each bite of my supper, or better yet, pretending my fork is an airplane in order to get me to eat. Absurd.).

As frustrating as it can be at the time, I am so glad they enjoy each other and laugh with each other. There have been times when the whole mealtime feels like it's going sideways and then all of a sudden they are laughing their heads off at each other and suddenly I'm laughing too. And once I join in, they both laugh even harder. Almost as if getting me to laugh had been the plan all along.

Jack-o-lantern smile.

When I started to lose my teeth as a young kid, I remember wiggling them with my tongue for hours and hours until my tongue was sore. I also remember grabbing them between my thumb and index finger and forcefully pushing them back and forth in an effort to finally shake them loose. 

Once the tooth was out, the gap felt so huge and strange and gushy. It was both gruesome and wondrous. And the next stage was almost as good: all of a sudden a fresh, white tooth would start emerging from my gum and I would spend hours playing with it with my tongue and wondering what it would look like when it finished growing in. It never hurt, it was just really cool.

Now that I'm grown, the thought of losing my teeth gives me the willies, but at the time, I saw nothing gross about it at all. Had I been able to recall the work that went into cutting those baby teeth, I may not have so zealously yanked them from my head.

Sonja had a pretty easy time with teething and her teeth all came in fairly quickly and in quick succession. So far, Haven's teeth seem to be taking more time, with a more noticeable effort. She has had two bottom teeth for a few months now, and after weeks and weeks of bulging gums and obvious discomfort, she has four teeth coming in on top. 

It has been a long haul, with learning to crawl and a bout of flu thrown in, so I thought I would dedicate today's post to Haven's newly-toothed grin. All the better to bite me with.

Accessories.

There is a distinct privilege to being a child: you can do weird things and nobody thinks twice about it. You can dress weird, act weird, carry weird stuff around with you, it's all good.


For instance, you can wear tights and a sundress in February and top it off with a bike helmet; voila! Why the hell not.

And when you sit down for a snack with your buddies, why not throw on a knight's chain-mail hood? It really accentuates the blue embroidery on your Winnie-the-Pooh dress.

I know kids aren't the only people who do these types of things. Hell, you see people pushing their tiny dogs around in strollers or wearing their (backwards) bike helmets while they shop for their groceries or buy shoes. And a lot of much, much stranger things. 

But this isn't meant to single grown-ups out for the funny things they do, it's meant to exalt the carefree beauty of being a child; that unmarred sense of "I am what I am because it's all I know to be." 

...a sense that we, ironically, lose somewhere between childhood and adulthood and then work very hard to find again: that place where just being "us" is all we need.

You can be sure that not a single kid at that table even noticed Sonja's chain-mail hood, and even if they did, they wouldn't have thought it was weird, they would just wish they had one too. 

All in how you look at it.

I'd heard it was supposed to snow sometime soon, but I never imagined that when I woke up this morning I would see a two-foot snow drift on the deck. And it's only getting bigger.

This is the kind of snow I dreamed of as a kid. The kind that falls all day long, crunches satisfyingly underfoot and piles high on even the skinniest branch. The non-slushy stuff.

As I stood at the window to take in the stillness of the morning, overloaded branches randomly scattered throughout the neighbourhood began to suddenly give way with the accumulation, dumping their snow onto sidewalks, driveways, roads and lawns. And now the wind is helping, gusting up from time to time and blowing huge, white clumps out of the Garry Oaks. It's beautiful to watch.

But then again, I don't have to be anywhere, so I don't have to drive in it. 

Slipping.

I don't usually post full-on naked pictures of the girls, because I really don't want people viewing my blog for the wrong reasons. I try to keep all unclothed shots on the tasteful side. But after scrolling through thousands of photos yesterday while writing my post for Sonja's birthday, I realized what a shame it is to leave some of these photos out. Some of them are just so great.


And then I came across a sequence of photos taken back in November 2008, when Sonja was starting to crawl and just beginning to really pull herself up on things around the house. This is one of my all-time favourite sequences of Sonja, since the photos never fail to make me smile. They are perfect for this post because they are on the tamer, non-gratuitous side; shots that I hope won't be too mortifying for Sonja when she grows up. A little bit mortifying is all I ask.

Pulling up...

Getting ready...

The reach!

Slipping...

Slipping further...

"A little help..?"

Thank you.

Three years ago today, at 2.23am, Peter and I welcomed our daughter Sonja Dagny. She was and still is a beautiful girl, full of love and humour and determination. She has shaped and re-shaped the course of our lives these last three years and I'm forever amazed at the power such a small being so carelessly wields. We've never held it against her; we are more than happy to play along. Well, mostly.

Thank you, Sonja.

Thank you for reminding me over and over again that things are no longer just about me. I know: I need constant reminding of this and you never fail to oblige. 

Thank you for showing me that I will survive the most frustration I have ever experienced in my life. Apparently my head will not explode, as I've been so often convinced it would.

Thank you for re-introducing me to the wonder of it all. You have been a most gracious guide.

Thank you for your little sayings: "Mommy, I love you most of the time" is my current favourite.

Thank you for the cuddles, the snuggles, the kisses, the nose-nuzzles, the tickles and the zurbitts. 

Thank you for your forgiveness when I lose my temper and have to apologize and explain why I'm apologizing. Your hug is the most genuine hug of forgiveness I have ever known.

Thank you for your laughter, your giggles, your nose-snorts, your guffaws. Completely contagious.

Thank you for all the times I held you while you slept. I knew at the time that I was perpetuating bad sleeping habits, but I just couldn't stop snuggling you. I don't regret it.

Thank you for your wispy hair. Your little ringlets are incredible.

Thank you for making me slow down and explain things. I don't always want to, I don't always feel like I have the time, but I'm always happy when I do.

Thank you for being my friend. You often say, "I love you, Mommy. You're my best friend." I never feel like I'm lying when I say, "You're my best friend too."

 Thank you for being our Sweet Baby Girl. I never knew how much I wanted this life until you were in it.