Crafty turkeys

This post was supposed to appear much earlier in the week, but since my beloved Macbook gave up the ghost during our flight to North Carolina and I had all these photos sitting on it waiting to edit, I didn't get to relax and post at my leisure during our trip. No, mostly I just felt like my right hand had been cut off. I know, I know. I shouldn't be this addicted to technology. And I've been toying with the idea of setting hours for myself. It's just too easy to sit here day in and day out, and yes, night in and night out, editing photos and posting on FB. Not having my computer around definitely made me feel edgy and a bit lost. Now that I'm back home, the impetus is on me to get it fixed or replaced. And I'm not looking forward to that price tag.

So in the meantime, we'll get back to posting about crafty Thanksgiving ideas. I saw this turkey craft link on a blog a friend of mine keeps and the task seemed simple enough. We had some cardboard lying around and so I thought, why not. Remembering the leftover feathers we had from the girls' birthday masking craft was a bonus. So during a particularly cold spell last weekend, I brought it all out and attempted to do something festive with both girls at the SAME time. Might be a record.  Of course, Elisa was calling out for help as I tried to keep Carolina's hands out of the sticky white mess accumulating on her turkey feathers. Note to self: toddlers and glue don't mix. But after a few wipes and distracting her with other things, like choosing the feathers, we were almost in the clear. Elisa helped me hold her feathers in place as they dried a little and then I whisked both turkeys off to finish air drying in peace. It was a crafting success and one that I didn't completely micromanage. Well, not totally. 

Tio Ignacio

A week ago today, Nacho's uncle Ignacio passed away. He was the first close relative of Elisa and Carolina's to die since my Grandma Mitchell the summer I was pregnant with C. But since she wasn't really cognizant of it at two, I didn't make much mention of what it meant to die. I've written about him here--about what he meant to me as a part of his family. And I'm not sure there's much more to add. He was a character and his absence from the table and summers in Encinar will be duly noted. My birthday will always make me think of him and the years he won't be celebrating with us. 

I suppose there's no good way to introduce kids to the concepts of loss, but I had my chance this week when I told Elisa of Tio's passing. Nacho returned from Spain the night before he died and was working all day long the next day, so it was up to me to share this news. I kept it brief and simple. "You know how Tio has been in the hospital and Papa went to see him?" I asked Elisa. "Yeah." "Well, he died today and we're all kind of sad. It means his body got really old and quit working." A look of surprise followed by "Was he the one who called me bicho?" And my laugh, "Yes. Tio loved you very much and he called you that because he was teasing you." I told her we could always talk about him and if she wanted to look at photos of him we could. She said yes, so we spent a few minutes looking at photos of him before she lost interest. 

She didn't have many more questions, so I let the subject fade. We would talk again of Tio a few times over the next few days. Elisa asked if he was Papa's dad which brought up another conversation about loss. Elisa knows that Nacho's dad died when he was a baby, but since he rarely mentions this, I think she often forgets. I suppose thinking of Tio as his dad made a lot of sense. He was his godfather who helped pay for college and took Nacho along on many vacations with Aunt Pauli. For us, Tio was much like a grandfather figure for the girls during their trips to visit, offering candies and playing with them during long sits around the table. We will miss him most of all when we return to Spain and realize he's not there. For us, a continent away, his absence is an illusion for now. So we will hold on to the memories and the photos and keep talking about him. That's how he lives on, and that's what matters most. 

Some days

Some days aren't too hard. They play together and make it look like the easiest thing ever. Some days I watch how much they love each other and realize that they are really best friends. And that's what helps me survive the stage we're in now which is full of hitting and screaming, pushing and shoving, and occasional biting--and not all of it from Carolina. It's part of what makes life so complex, that the more I see their compatibility, I also see their volatility. I suppose we torment those we love the most and nothing could be truer with these two. Sisters through and through. I spent last weekend hanging out with them while Nacho flew home to see his uncle and we made the most of a great day at the park.  Monday night after school we had a tea party and colored Christmas pages. It was fun to live in the moment with them. There was hardly any fighting which means we need to do that again soon. 

Our little monster

In the past few months, I realized that my blogging about the girls is so different now from how things started out. With Elisa, I was a first time mom with a huge learning curve. Everything was a joy, a disaster, a triumph and a dilemma--and sometimes all at once. With Carolina, nothing has been hard. It's just been, eh...different. But the more things change, the more I feel that the toddler years are so very similar. Both girls have started with the same defiant streak around 18-24 months and it's only getting more interesting now that language is really taking off. Carolina can be heard telling me "NO NEVER TO ME!" which is about as angry as she gets. Though today that anger was accompanied with biting (my duvet cover) and throwing of toys. She's a fiery one when she wants to be and it's clear that she's learned a few key moves from her wily older sister.  My favorite things right now are how she sulks with head hung low and breathes extra heavy like her chest is caving in.   She can really pout like a pro.  It usually takes a good hug before she'll come around, and even then, she's found that crying ugly crocodile tears provides a much need catharsis sometimes. It's all those emotions bubbling up that are so joyful and yet so trying at this age. She can be so damn demanding and then absolutely adorable the next minute. It's enough to make you crazy day in and day out. But luckily, I've done this before, and I know how good I have it. We don't have the daily knock-down drag-out fights and tantrums that Elisa had at this age. I rarely have trouble getting her out the door. Yes, there are mild protests over shoes or coats, but nothing like the epic throw downs Elisa would have that left me so drained. This is all to say that Carolina is giving toddlerdom a good run, but she's still too sweet to do much damage. Even if she wouldn't wear her Sulley costume until two days after Halloween. I still got it on her. So there.

Farm livin'

Somehow it's mid-November already and I'm not even sure I realized Halloween was fully over. How does that happen? Why does it feel like each year fall gets shorter and my nosedive into the holiday season begins before I've even thrown out the rotting pumpkins? Well, yesterday I had a chance to indulge in a little more autumnal fun (including a--you guessed it--pumpkin patch) with Elisa's Kindergarten class on their first field trip to Green Meadows Farm in Queens. It was a good, if frighteningly chilly day, and the kids were really pumped for their big outing.  Now I must admit at first I was a little confused about the location. This is actually the same place we've been before since it's part of the Queens County Farm Museum.  And if I recall, that visit too was on a chilly day in November, so I suppose I knew what I was getting myself in for. 

Except that I'm always overly optimistic about these field trips. I was looking forward to tagging along, thinking it would be fun to see Elisa out enjoying her classmates on a fun little excursion. One of her teachers wrote me a nice message a few weeks ago about what a great example Elisa was setting in the classroom. It was wonderful to hear and I was hoping to see a glimmer of that on the trip.  But alas, we were back to the Elisa that I know. The one who saves her frustrations and her snark for her mother. There was no fun to be had--at least not for her. Almost from the minute we piled on the bus, Elisa was clingy and possessive, competitive with her friends and whiny to me. Oh joy. I tried to cajole her out of it, but nothing seemed to work. She was cold and hungry, complaining of a tummy ache and wanting to go home. Not back to school, mind you, but home. Her teacher Ms. Z leaned in to assure me that this was not how Elisa acted at school and I smiled and said, I know.  We went through this a few times before with school trips and I suppose it's a testament to how much she likes me that she wants me all to herself. But at this age, I was really hoping we'd moved past it--like we could just enjoy the day together and I could be part of her class trip without making her crazy. The bus ride home was probably the sweetest she was all day and that was only because we shared an orange and cuddled on the ride. Ahhh, this kid kills me.

Nevertheless, I was glad I went. I probably won't volunteer for the next one since I think it's a pattern that is all too likely to repeat itself. But it was neat to see the kids in action and to chat a little more with Ms. Z. We attended her wedding ceremony last weekend and she's a lovely woman and a very devoted teacher. I think Elisa is extremely lucky to have made it into AoC this year for her first real school experience and no doubt, Ms. Z has been a big part of that smooth transition. And who knows, maybe by spring time I'll brave another field trip. It's always possible that Elisa will evolve enough to let me be part of her school life without eclipsing it. At least I still have hope. 

Tap dancin'

Somewhere in the midst of September ending and October beginning, I forgot to mention that Elisa started her first dance class at Sunnyside Ballet Studio. I chose tap for her for a number of, perhaps obvious, reasons. Ballet might have been too formal, too disciplined for a girl who wants to groove.  It was for me.  And I think Elisa has the sparkle, the wiggle and the rhythm to pull off a tap class at this point. But mostly, I  remember starting my first dance class ever at the age of 5 and feeling like I found a place I belonged. Dance was a tremendous outlet for me for much of my childhood. I was finally good at something and I loved the feeling of nailing a routine. Sometimes I could even win a dollar in dance offs against other girls.  Can you imagine that now?  Yeah, back in the good ol' days of the 1980s when our instructor would take a 5 minute smoke break and calm her nerves outside with some nicotine, I remember the smell of that studio--a mixture of perfume and smoke--and how I watched the older girls with names like Kendra and Jackie who made splits and time steps look like child's play.  It was a glamorous world and I loved the sequins and shine of getting our new costumes in preparation for the big recital at the end of the spring. The whole year was leading up to that one night at the music hall in Kansas City where we would tap and twirl and flash our jazz hands for our adoring audience. Excitement and trepidation mixed as we took the stage, but the resulting rush of adrenaline and the pure bliss of performing was all I needed. I was hooked.  I really hope Elisa will have the same love of dance class because I can already see how much she enjoys moving to music.  She has a natural grace and joy when she's feeling the rhythm pulse through her veins.  And just like my mother before me, I tell her all the time how much I enjoy watching her dance. Sometimes it's the simplest things that bring the biggest smiles.