Class Picture!

Vi's class picture, 2011.

This is the morning before she got her ears pierced. Oh, you want to hear that story? Okay.

Vi has been asking to get her ears pieced for almost a year. At first, I thought, "No way. She's too young. Why would such a little girl need earrings?" This is such a good example of KGOY (Kids Getting Older Younger, a concept that has been on my radar since reading Peggy Orenstein's 'Cinderalla Ate My Daughter,' a book I highly recommend). Earrings are for big kids and grown-ups. Right?

Right? Or am I picking some arbitrary age-bracket?

After a few months of replying to the request with "I'll think about it," or "Maybe when you're older," I started really considering it. This wasn't some strange notion of hers about needing earrings to be a princess or beautiful. This was a rather well-rounded kid who happens to like jewelry. Vi likes the DP's (Disney Princesses) a lot, indeed. Just about as much as Disney wants her to. She also likes Star Wars, Superman, begs to see "Pirates of the Caribbean" and "Spiderman," and has no fear of creepy-crawlies or roller coasters. She plays with such a wide variety of toys that when people ask me what she's "into," I struggle with an answer.

Even if she is well-rounded - how do I talk about things I think are beautiful without her thinking those 'things' are requirements of beauty? I try to tell her how beautiful she is when she's as far from 'princess' as possible - when she's muddy, climbing a tree, with messy hair in her pajamas, holding frogs, making compost. When she is dressed up in her "glass slippers" and covered in lip gloss, I tell her she looks fancy, and I try to avoid the word pretty.

There is something special to me, however, about the ways we dress up as adults. The things typically associated with women in our society - dresses, jewelry, pretty shoes, make-up, a nice hair-do - are fun for me. I played dress-up as a kid, but I don't think I was overtaken by a specific concept of beauty. I got my ears pierced when I was 8, after admiring my big sister's lovely lobes. In high school and college, I chopped my hair off, wore baggy clothes, and adopted a rather androgynous look. I didn't wear make-up, but for some reason I still wore jewelry. On top of that, I continued piercing my ears to mark special occasions. I have my original two, then one from my semester in Spain, one from a particularly special date, and one from when my dear grandmother Vigolia died. I have a total of five holes in my ears. (I stopped there. No gauged holes, no nose, no belly, and certainly nothing else!)

For a year in college, I somehow ended up managing the front-end of a day spa and salon. I think I was somewhat of a pet project of the cosmetologists, as they re-made me from a Supercuts and L L Bean non-model into a girly-girl again. It was admittedly fun, playing dress-up and having professionals play with my looks. I feel, though, that I lost some of myself that year. The ideals about self-image and beauty I want Vi to embrace are better demonstrated than simply spoken.

(This motherhood thing involves so much self-exploration. I'm exhausted.)

Dan and I talked about earring readiness. That she wouldn't do well with the pain, that she wasn't ready to take care of the holes and studs. We agreed that setting an age limit seemed, again, arbitrary. When I noticed other kids with pierced ears, I asked their parents about the experience. It just wasn't a big deal to any of them.

I told Vi it would hurt just like getting a shot at the doctor's office, to which she responded with tears, and she said she didn't want to get a shot. Some time passed, and she started talking about it again. This time, it was more like "I want to get my ears piered (she still leaves the 'c' out when she says 'pierced - very cute), so I will be brave at the doctor's office when I get my shot."

Well, it turned out that we didn't opt for any shots at this year's check-up. (Another topic for another day.) At the end of her appointment, she cried to me "But now I can't get my ears pierced!!" As if the two were inextricably linked. It was one of those upsets that was sad and endearing at the same time. I assured her that, when the time was right, she could still get her ears pierced regardless of her vaccination schedule.

She kept bringing it up. Not daily, not relentlessly, but in a matter-of-fact way. It wasn't "Can I get my ears pierced?" It was "When I get my ears pierced."

On school picture day, she woke up determined to get her ears pierced. She actually wanted to get them pierced on the way to school. Yeah, right, I thought. Actually, I think I said that out loud. On our way out of school that evening, out of the blue she said to a teacher, "Good night, I'm going to get my ears pierced now." Her teacher raised her eyebrows and looked at me for confirmation. I said, "Uh...um...that's not really the plan for this evening. Should we talk about doing that? Uh....let's wait until Daddy gets home and talk about it." (And I thanked my lucky stars to have a co-parent...both for the ability to discuss with him and the opportunity to delay the conversation.)

We got home, and she kept referring to the evening's timeline as it pertained to getting her ears pierced. "And then, after dinner, we'll go to the mall." "Before bed, we're going to the mall." And so on.

Dan came home, and I informed him of her intentions. I was so stunned by her determination, that I really didn't have an opinion on the matter. This kid has always been in charge of her own timeline. (For better or for worse.) She seemed to know that today was the day.

We turned on YouTube and found some videos of the experience. Dan and I were appalled at the parents bribing their kids, as if the piercing was somehow more important to the parents than desired by the child. We also cringed whenever the videotaping Dad said, "You're okay, it's not that bad." Yeah, right, Dad. Nice minimizing of your child's feelings. Even seeing some kids crying, she was undeterred. "NOW can we go to the mall?"

So, we shrugged, and went to the mall.

It went down like this: She picked out studs (so, so pretty, delicate little CZ and white gold daisies! Studs have come a long way since 1986). The piercer (Piercing specialist? Technician? Employee?) explained that she was working alone, and would have to do one ear at a time. I knew this could prove to be problematic, but we proceeded. She sat Vi down, marked her ears, cleaned them, explained the process clearly (and quite sweetly) to Vi, counted to three, and click! Pierced Vi's left ear.

Vi let out a delayed cry. Parents, you know what that means. The longer it takes for the actual sobbing to start, the longer it will go on. And go on it did. Oh, did it ever go on. When she was again calm, we delicately approached the topic of The Other Ear. This was hard to navigate. On the one hand, did it really matter if she only had one done, and we had to come back for the other? On the other hand, we had just spent $50. Would she EVER want to come back for the other ear? Would we just leave this stud in, or take it out? If we left it in, what sort of comments would other people make that might sway her decision in ways that go against my albeit mixed values on the topic? It would be upsetting to me if she made the choice based on teasing, or because some well-meaning adult said "Don't you want to look pretty?" Again, this was not supposed to be about being pretty. What exactly IS it about? I asked myself.

I actually heard myself say something unexpected: "We can go get ice cream if you do the second ear." Yikes. I had become one of the YouTube parents. Yuck.

In the end, after about 20 minutes of what I am proud to say was mostly calm, non-pressuring discussion, of course Vi came up with a solution for herself. She asked the employee for rubber gloves and an alcohol swab so she could pierce her stuffy's ears. After play-acting it out a few times, she told the employee that she could do the second ear while Vi pierced her dog's ears. 1, 2, 3 click! Followed by another set of delayed tears...which lasted less than a minute. She moved on to earring-to-earring smiles.

I still don't know where I fall on my inner controversy of beauty or what this experience will mean to her in the long run. I assure myself that this was her choice (and then immediately second-guess my judgement, with a little bit of "Why would you allow a four-year-old to make such a big decision?!?" Which I follow-up with "It's not THAT big of a decision. Calm down.")

I must say, though, her little ears really *do* look pretty. And I Can. Not. Wait. to go earring shopping with her.

Suddenly, she's almost 4

It's summertime in Maine - the trees have blossoms, the seedlings are growing in our sleep, kids are playing until dark...it's just wonderful. In our little family, our garden is planted, Vi has just started a short season of tee-ball, and we are stocked up on sunscreen.

Dan is still working at Hamilton Marine, and was promoted over the winter to managing the commericial fishing department. He still keeps busy with other areas and would love more responsibility. They are a really nice group of people with good Maine values, so it doesn't seem like the life is getting sucked out of him (especially this time of year.)

I'm still balancing, juggling, and working a lot. Half of my week I am at Gilchrist Scott taking care of bookkeeping, human resources, marketing, and administrative tasks. You probably remember that I was there before Vi was born, and left soon after returning from maternity leave. It's really nice being back with these folks - they are such a nice, smart, professional group of people! The other half of my week is divided between three places. I am doing bookkeeping and human resources for Huston and Company (I know - isn't it funny? I'm back at the two places I worked at before Vi wsa born! Ditto on how nice it is to be back with some of my favorite people!) and a research firm that specializes in early childhood literacy. This is a group of uber-smart and cool women, and I love the half-days I get to spend with them. I am also doing most of the bookkeeping for Vi's daycare center, which is so nice. I feel like a broken record, but I really love being part of the staff among such wonderful people!

And, Miss Vi, you ask? Miss Critter herself? She is almost four. Vi is almost four. She has been talking about her birthday a lot lately, and we're still up in the air about how to celebrate. She would like it if we went to Disney World, but no way in hell am I going to Florida in July. (We're going for MY birthday in January, instead.)

This Spring I kept Vi busy on the weekends with gymnastics and swimming lessons. This summer it's tee-ball, then soccer, and a creative movement dance class. (The required leotard is pretty darn cute.) She can climb like a monkey, ride her bike (with training wheels), and jump a good couple of feet with both feet together. She is practicing her spinning, because she prefers to wear a skirt that twirls. (Don't ask what happens when she is presented with a non-twirling skirt. It's just not a pretty scene.)

She still loves books, reading, and being read to. When I get to peek in at her at school, she is either reading (alone, with friends, with a teacher) or playing "monster" with her friends. This kid has lung power and can shriek and scream with the best of them.

Vi is also using her lung power for singing. She has *such* good pitch - even my mother (who cringes if she hears Canon in D being played in C...I owe her so many apologies for high school...but that's another story) has commented on it. We sit at the piano and I play songs and she sings along. Hurray!! We are firmly in the phase of made-up songs. Here's a little piece she composed for me, at bedtime, as a "Peaceful bedtime song."

The Lost Princess and her Lost Prince

The lost princess, had lost her prince
He was fighting a dragon
She was scared he had been eat-ed
But he fight-ed the dragon
And he went to the castle and went upstairs
And the lost princess found her prince
And they kissed true love's kiss!

(I know...kissing...yikes.)

This morning she had me select a card out of a stack of animal information cards. "Would you like this fox?" "Yes, yes I would, thank you." "Okay, kid, now I'm going into my office to computer-it-up."

She is enjoying going on field trips with her "Hoppy Frog Friends" and her "School Mommies." They visited the planetarium this week, where, she says, they "were doing some learning."

She is now saying the "s" at the beginning of words (including words that used to be 'tephanie, 'chool, 'tairs, and 'top), pronounced pretend correctly (it used to be te-dend), but she still says "pur-ize" for "surprise." It's progress, but her own way of talking was so darn cute. We all 'truggled with the decision to 'tart modelling proper 'peech.

Vi has us participate in a Fairy Day Parade on occasion, where we march around the house banging on instruments loudly. Dan and I try to follow directions, but it's often hard to hear over the cymbals.

She awards people with a "dickory prize" for things like eating all of your dinner, winning a race, or showing good behavior. We think she is saying "dickory" for "victory," but we like it just the way it is.

Vi is really good at Memory games. She kicks our butts most of the time, actually. If one gets a match, Vi will cheer and dance, saying "Yes! Yes! YOU get to go to college!"

She asks what words mean all the time. I love it. The other day she asked, "What does 'predicament' mean?" I offered a simple definition, something like "A predicament is a difficult situation. If you're having a problem, and you have to find out how to fix it, it could be a predicament." She replied, "Yeah. OR- it's like a kind of candy?" Because, you know...it's a predica-mint.

Grammy: Vi, what do you do at college? Vi: That's where you go to die, and rest a while.

Me: Vi, what did you do (with Uncle Drew and her cousins) last night? Vi: Well, we didn't go to Funtown. Wait, what did you say?

"Then the caterpillar crawls inside the canoe, and becomes a beautiful butterfly!"

"I'm drinking poison apple drink, becuase I'm a grown-up, but I won't die, because I'm magical, and poison apple drink turns into sparkles in my belly and turns me into a fairy!"

She's full of imagination, a self-proclaimed princess, coloring artist AND "sunscreener." She has big emotions, lots of energy, *can* sleep through the night, colors inside the lines in coloring books, writes all of the letter of the alphabet to compose various stories/signs/letters/cards/songs, knows all of the words to "Tomorrow" from "Annie," and is starting to replace "Mommy" and "Daddy" with "Mom" and "Dad." She can run and climb in heels, serve herslef a bowl of cereal, operate our cell phones, and communicate with friends to solve problems.

One year from now, we'll be visiting the neighborhood kindergarten for "orientation."

Yup, she's almost four.

(You should hear her say "yup.")

Vi-ral video

Vi's new hit single, "Chickadee Song (Wonderful Day)"

Vi-isms

In the spirit of "I hope you're writing these cute things down," here are some of Vi's silly words of late:

Vi: Boo and Lellow make Geen!
Me: That's right! What do yellow and red make?
Vi: They make....I think it's....something liiiiike.....WE DON'T PUT PLAY-DOUGH IN OUR MOUTHS!!

Me: What do you want to dream about tonight?
Vi: Uuuummm.... I think.... my sleep is about....Pincesses....Kanga-Woos.... and Kickens. (Chickens)
Me: That sounds great! Can I come, too?
Vi: Yeah! (looks at me skeptically) Are you thinking about Pincesses? Kanga-woos? And Kickens?
Me: Yes, yes I am.
Vi: Okay. See you there. Good night. I luzz you. (kiss, kiss) I kiss you.

Vi: When I was really, really born? I came out of your belly and drank hot milk from your nipples. I was soooo cute! I was so born.

Vi: I going to the toy store, 'bye!
Me: Who are you going with?
Vi: My husband. He's 14 years old, and his name is Darrell.

Dan, reading On Market Street, where S is clearly for Shoes: S is for saxophones.
Vi: No, no, no, no, no. S is for Shoes. And for Stephanie, too.

Vi: NO! I DON'T WANT TO!
(Had to throw in a little bit of the temper tantrums she's dished out recently!)

Nonsense words: Boutique. Gleeky. Muggy.

Vi, drifting off to sleep: You my best friend, ezzer, ezzer.

While watching a folk musician perform in the park at Mill Creek, Vi sat and listened to every song, then brought the musician a stick or a leaf. After each song. He sweetly accepted each gift.

I told Vi how to distract Dan from his probing questions about his birthday present. She waves her hands in front of his face and says, "Bacon, bacon, bacon!"

She requests "big long noodles and chopsticks" at least once a week. Still eating a lacto-fruitarian diet, for the most part. Picking out her own clothes. Sleeping through the night. Only wearing diapers at night and at naptime.

Suddenly, she's almost three.