Ima.com

Zoe calls my mother Ima.  All my mom's grandchildren call her Ima.  Zoe was the first and that was how she said "Grandma" when she was a year old.  Ima just stuck.  Over the years we've learned that the name we thought was so unique is actually the Hebrew word for mother and that lots of people use it for both their Mom and their Grandma.  To me, it will always be a Zoe invention though.  Kind of like "milky bop" for her bottle.

Tonight at dinner we somehow got on the subject of the book "Watership Down" (no idea why) and I suggested that Zoe might like to read it.  My mom told Zoe that it was a parable.  Zoe then asked what a parable was and my mom told her to go look it up on her iPad.  Zoe said, "Why should I look it up on my iPad when I can just go to Ima.com?  She knows."  We got a good giggle out of that because anyone who knows my mom knows she could have a site called Ima.com that had the answers to stuff like that as well as figuring out the square root of 324.  (The answer is 18, by the way.)

Of course I had to then go and google ima.com, but unfortunately the URL is already being used here.  However, the google results for "Ima" did turn up some interesting results including the Indianapolis Museum of Art and even more fitting, Institute for Mathematics and its Applications.

Tuesday Shoesday: New Kicks for Zoe

The other day Zoe said to me, "Mom, a bunch of kids at school have these sneakers I really like."  Then she paused and said quite sheepishly, "Can I get a pair?"  As if she was afraid to ask.  She should know that I recognize the importance of the right pair of shoes.  I was a little disappointed in her at that moment, but I got over it and I said of course she could have the cool sneakers.

But first she had to find out who made them and where to get them.  The next day she came home and reported they were made by Reebok, called Zigtech and were available at the mall.  They look like this:

The next weekend we headed to the mall and went to Kid's Foot Locker.  They had the sneakers, but not the color Zoe wanted.  We tried a few other places, but she was unwilling to settle.

That night when we got home I looked online and discovered that Reebok let's you customize this kind of sneaker.  The possibilities and design combinations were endless.  I was so excited to show this to Zoe since then she could pick out exactly what she wanted.  She eagerly sat down at the computer and started designing her perfect shoe.

About an hour later she gave up in frustration.  She could not figure out what she wanted.  I tried to help, but I just wasn't helpful as is often the case with Mom and clothes.  I even suggested she try Nike's version of customized shoes.  That was equally frustrating.  Finally, Zoe could take no more and declared that she no longer wanted sneakers and that we were to just forget it.  It was a shame, because there are some great, creative possibilities with being able to design your own, but I guess ultimately, there were just too many choices.

The next morning I happened to get an email from J Crew advertising some stuff from their kids' line and the email included a really cute, classic pair of Adidas sneakers for kids.  They just screamed Zoe to me.  I showed them to her and she fell in love instantly.  We are now anxiously awaiting the arrival of these:

In the end I have to say I am proud that Zoe recognized the importance of not only cool, but classic.

On Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny and Santa Claus

Yesterday evening as Zoe was taking a bath and I was supervising, she asked me a very important question.

She said, "Mom, can you tell me now?"

"Tell you what?" I asked.

"You know.  What you wouldn't tell me this weekend when Joseph was here," she looked at me imploringly.  "Is there a Tooth Fairy?"

[Backstory:  My nephew Joseph slept over last Friday night and it just so happened that he lost a tooth so the Tooth Fairy had to come to our house.]

"Are you sure you want to know?" I asked while furiously thinking through my answer.

"Yes! Please tell me the truth.  The real truth."

"OK," I took a deep breath and told her.  "There is no Tooth Fairy."  My heart broke a little as I watched Zoe's face.  She took the news well.  I think she already knew the answer, but something about saying it out loud makes it so definite.

"That's a good thing!" she said.  "I didn't like the idea of someone flying into my room at night.  What else isn't real?"

"Well," again I hesitated.  "There's no Easter Bunny."

Again she took it well.  "Yeah, how could a bunny carry those baskets around?"

"Daddy likes to play the Easter Bunny so don't tell him you know," I told her.

"I won't tell," she smiled.  Then her face turned serious.  "But Santa?"

"Santa is real," I told her.

"Of course he's real.  Santa brings me things you say no to," she confirmed.

I felt a little bit sad about that whole conversation and I think Rob was a little upset with me when I told him about it, but I think I did the right thing.  I think...

What Zoes Do Best

It is standardized testing time at Zoe's school and I think, the entire state of Connecticut.  I have mixed to ambivalent feelings about these tests, but Zoe seems to be handling them well so I am not going to worry too much about it right now, but it is something to take seriously since it becomes part of Zoe's record as a student.

However, I have discovered that there is a secret upside to the testing period that no one talks about.  During the two weeks of testing there is no homework.  This is like a vacation for me as a parent.  Not once this week or last have I had to worry about when Zoe will do her homework nor have I had to review it or help her with it or anything.  When she gets home from school I don't have to drop everything to asses the homework situation.  It's hard to explain what a small, but meaningful joy this is.

Zoe has a daily planner that she is supposed to write her daily homework assignments in and last night as I was emptying her backpack I noticed that on the planner in the entry for yesterday she had written "Do what Zoes do best."  I asked her what that meant.  She said her teacher told them they should do what they do best after school today and that for her it meant "running, jumping, and being loud."  Of course.  At least she knows herself well!

Zoe Getting Her Ears Pierced

I'm fairly certain Zoe has been asking to get her ears pierced for about a year.  At first Rob insisted that we have it done at the doctor's office.  I thought that was silly, but I told Rob that he should make an appointment then.  Not surprisingly, that never happened.  Actually each time Zoe brought it up, it was like we were having the conversation for the first time with Rob.  But, this is about Zoe, not Rob. 

Around Christmas time I gave up on that whole idea and told Zoe I would take her to get her ears pierced over the Christmas break.  Unfortunately the snow storm stole the day I had picked and we had filled our week with too many other plans so we never did it.  With nothing on the calendar this past Saturday and a desire to go to the mall I declared it ear piercing day.  Zoe was so excited.  She couldn't stop talking about it and thinking about it. 

We arrived at the mall on Saturday afternoon and I asked Zoe if she wanted to go straight to Claire's, where they do ear piercing.  I know if it were me I would want to go straight away, but not Zoe.  She wanted to wait.  She wanted it to be the last thing we did before leaving the mall.  That's when I sensed there was some nervousness so I told her that she could back out of getting her ears pierced at any time (before I paid) and no one would be mad at her. 

We shopped the afternoon away including an extended tour of Sephora and the Apple Store and finally there was nothing left to do, but go to Claire's.  There was already a young girl getting her ears pierced when we arrived.  She was just about to have it done and she started to cry.  This set Zoe right on edge.  I thought she would change her mind on the spot, but she didn't.  She drifted around the store until it was her turn as she got more and more nervous.  Finally it was her turn to get into the stool.  The lovely girl who worked their hurriedly prepared everything and tried to explain that it wouldn't hurt while Zoe worked herself up into a slightly frantic state of tears.  "I don't want to do it!" she finally cried and I said OK.  But she didn't get up from the stool she just sat there clearly hesitating so I said,

"You've wanted this for so long and now here we are.  It won't hurt, so just do it."

"No!  I changed my mind!"

"OK, then let's go," I said.  Rob took her arm to help her down from the stool, but again she didn't move.  Rob and I looked at each other and we knew we had to kind of force her.  That she wanted us to.  So we both told her to just sit down and do it.  The girls at the store were fantastic and they jumped right in and did it in a second.

Lo and behold, it did not hurt.  Apparently we had attracted a crowd because as soon as it was done, there was a round of applause from another group waiting to get ears pierced.  Zoe smiled really big once she realized it was done, it was wonderful.  I could tell she felt so grown up and so special.  She ran to look at herself in the mirror, all the tears of moments ago already long forgotten. 

I have to say the earrings do look adorable and I am very glad she went through with it and am proud of her for it, but my only regret is that they make her look more grown up. 

Here's a nice view just moments after the piercing was completed:

Deafness a.k.a. Selective Hearing

As many of you know, my father suffers from pronounced hearing loss. He has a very hard time in restaurants, at parties, and sometimes it can even be a challenge to have a face-to-face conversation with him. If there is any background noise at all it next to impossible for him to hear well despite the state-of-the-art hearing aids he wears. Because he tries with the hearing aids, with lip reading and now with texting I cut him a lot of slack and have learned to speak loudly when I am with him. Frustrating as it maybe be at times.

Zoe, on the other hand, suffers from a completely different kind of deafness for which I have zero tolerance. When the TV is on I can literally stand right in front of her and speak to her and she will have no idea that I've said a word. For example:

[I walk in front of Zoe and stand between her and the TV]

Me: Zoe! You need to go brush your teeth.

Zoe: [blank stare]

Me (again): Zoe! Did you hear me? You need to go brush your teeth.

Zoe: [blank stare]

Me: Zoe!?! Zoe! Teeth! Now!

Zoe: [blank stare] OK. [pause as I walk away] Wait, what?

Me: #$@&*"^$!($ Brush your teeth!


It's a real comedy routine.

I yell at her for it, I punish her, I turn off the TV, but the problem seems only to get worse. I'd blame the TV, but it seems to happen at other times too. Like when she's outside playing and I want her to come in for dinner or when it is time to feed the dog or one of her other 2 second "chores."

Perhaps I need to take her to an audiologist? It's that or a therapist for me!

Zoe's Guide to Getting What You Want

A couple of weekends ago my father (aka Papa) was babysitting for Zoe and when I picked her up they had just come from getting ice cream. From 2 different ice cream shops. When I asked her how she managed to get her Papa to go to 2 different ice cream shops she said, "I just asked and he said OK."

Papa is clearly a pushover.

The conversation went on to cover the ways in which Zoe gets what she wants from people. Here's her guide:

Papa -- we know, just ask and it shall be yours.

Ima (my mother) -- Say: "Ima, I love you. Can I please [insert request]? Please? " and it shall be yours.

Rob (aka Daddy) -- Say, "Please?"
Rob says, "No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Alright! Now be quiet already."

Me -- say "Mom, can I please [insert request]? I promise I will [insert mom-desired behavior such as come in when you call me the first time, feed the dog, listen, etc.]"

I say, "Oh, OK, but you'd better [insert desired behavior]."


I'd say she pretty much nailed all of us. Clever, manipulative little thing.

Summer Camp

I am so jealous of Zoe these days. She's on summer vacation from school and going to daycamp. She comes from camp home filthy, exhausted and happy each day. Her big decision after the camp day is if she should play with the neighborhood kids or go for a swim. That is followed by dinner and then sleeping like a stone.

I absolutely adored summer camp when I was her age. I loved the swimming, the sports, the arts and crafts, the songs...everything. Even better was when I was old enough for sleepaway camp. The other day Zoe and I were discussing sleepaway camp and she told me she thought it would be hard to go. I told her she didn't have to go until she was ready or ever. To which she responded,
"I mean it will be hard for you. But I really should go."

She's probably right.

Shopping with Zoe

It started about a month ago. Every pair of pants that Zoe pulled on (that aren't leggings or yoga pants) were too small. As of last week we were down to one pair of jeans that fit, but they weren't a particularly favorite pair so they weren't worn either except under duress. (I.e. me saying, I can't stand to see you in yoga pants again!)

The straw that broke the camel's back was when her favorite sneakers were too small. That meant that surely some of the other lesser worn shoes were small too. So, yesterday we were off to the mall. Not just any mall, however. We went for it and drove to the Palisades Mall in Nyack, NY. They've got every store you want from Target to Macy's and everything in between. The place is enormous!

We shopped for about 5 hours and I think we managed to get Zoe a wardrobe that will carry her through spring and summer. There was a break for lunch and a break to ride the Ferris wheel (yes, the mall is that big that it can hold a Ferris wheel), but otherwise we were shopping the entire time.

When we were looking at clothes for Zoe the conversation went like this:

"What about this shirt?" I would ask holding up something I think she would like.
"Yeah," she would reply.
"Yeah you like it, or yeah it is a shirt?"
"Yeah I like it."
"Do you really like it?" I would ask.
"Yes, I really like it."
"But are you going to wear it?" I would implore.
Brief hesitation usually followed by, "Probably not." And back on the rack it goes.

I just don't remember being that picky. Actually I don't think I ever had a choice when I was 8. Alas, I give choices.

However, my goal this year has been to cut down on the amount of unworn and worn once clothing in Zoe's closet. I love my nieces and I am very happy to pass along Zoe's hand-me-downs to them, but it does drive me crazy when I know I am giving away brand new items. I sometimes feel like I might as well be stuffing cash into the bag as well. So, I had to wait for Zoe to actually look around the store we were in and then actually pick something up that she liked or I had to wait for the "Yes, yes I really like that!" accompanied by vigorous head nodding to be sure I picked something that would actually get worn.

Now you can see why it took 5 hours.

And we didn't even get to shoes.

Am I a Big Girl Now?

I am finding it hard to believe, but Zoe's 8th birthday is coming up in just a few weeks. (Yes, that means I will be posting her baby picture again soon.) In some ways these have been the fastest 8 years of my life. I have no idea where so much time went because it feels like only yesterday that we brought little baby Zoe home from the hospital. At the same time, I can't remember or imagine my life without her in it. But I will save the rest of the "remember when" stuff for her actual birthday because that's not what I wanted to write about today.

Zoe is obsessed with being a big girl. When she got up on her own and got herself dressed without being told she asked me, "am I acting like a big girl?" She has opinions on what big girls wear, read, play with, etc. I've been encouraging her efforts, of course.

This morning, however, I had to correct one of her ideas about being a big girl. Just before leaving for the bus stop Zoe asked me, "When I turn 8, can I say f**k?"

I forced myself not to laugh and said, "No, that's a grown-up word. Not even big girls should say that word."

"But Asher says f**k," she replied. Asher is her 12 year-old cousin.

"He shouldn't," I replied.

"He shouldn't say it to grown-ups," Zoe answered. I couldn't argue with that one.

I re-iterated that it is not a word she should use, but that some people do it in frustration. I suggested she use "phooey" instead.

"Phooey is a baby word." She got me again.

So finally I told her, "life just doesn't make sense sometimes, does it?"

Life is like a box of chocolates

On Sunday my Dad came over to watch the Super Bowl with us. He was leaving for a vacation to the Bahamas the next day so he brought Zoe a Valentine's gift. (Yes, I hate him for being in the Bahamas right now.) Zoe's gift was a traditional heart-shaped box of chocolate with a little stuffed Teddy Bear attached to the top. She liked it very much.

Before half-time Zoe gave up on watching the game with us and went upstairs to watch TV in my bedroom. She asked me if she could eat her Valentine's chocolate for her dessert. Since I am on a diet and want all candy like that disposed of one way or the other as quickly as possible, I said yes. She's a pretty good self-regulator so I wasn't worried she'd eat the entire box.

About an hour later I went up to check on her and tell her it was almost time for bed. Then I asked her how she liked her chocolate.

"It was awful!" she said. I was quite surprised so I asked her why. "I don't like chocolate with stuff in it. I took a bite out of each one, but they all had stuff in it."

I opened the discarded box and sure enough there was each chocolate with one bite gone. It was a pathetic site.

"Why can't they just make all chocolate? That stuff ruins it," she complained. I told her I didn't know.

I left the room and immediately burst out laughing. Then I showed the box to Rob who promptly made the problem chocolate go away by eating all the bitten candies.

Fashion Critic

I suppose I deserve this for all the fashion criticisms I've handed out to friends, family and strangers over the years, but last night I got my first taste of my daughter as my fashion critic.

Rob and I were having a date night and we were meeting another couple at a rather posh sounding place in downtown New Canaan, CT. I was looking forward to a night out and took the opportunity to wear my favorite heeled black boots and a black sweater that has silver sparkly threads running through it. I got myself dressed and ready and just as we were leaving and I was kissing her good-bye, Zoe looked away from the TV and at me and said, "Mom! Don't you think that's a bit much?"

Oy. I told her I didn't think that was very nice, but I kissed her good-bye anyway. She then finished me off with, "I still love you."

Double oy.

And for the record, I don't think my outfit was a bit much at all. A lot she knows!

A weekend of funnies from Zoe

It seemed like just about everything Zoe had to say this weekend was having us all laugh out loud. Here are a few of my favorites:

The worst Halloween ever would be instead of getting candy, getting advice.

It's weird. Neil Armstrong and Louis Armstrong have the same last name, but they are not related at all. Not even a little bit. It's spelled the same and everything. A-R-M-S-T-R-O-N-G

Avatar [the TV Show] gives you spiritual advice. Don't make fun of that show, that show is my life.

It was more dangerous for Grandpa in his driveway than at the battle of the bulge. [Said when discussing the fact that Rob's father did not get any serious injuries in WW II, but he did manage to slice of part of a finger in a car engine fan.]

I have to cartwheel. It's who I am.

... and she's off to 2nd grade!

and she's off to 2nd grade!, originally uploaded by Marcyjill.

Second grade is: Awesome!
New teacher is: Really cool!
First day was: Great!

Can't as for a better start than that, can you?

More photos from the first day here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/marcyjill/sets/72157622228522910/

Serious School Supplies

I took Zoe shopping for her back-to-school supplies this afternoon. When we thought we had everything on the list in our basket we were going through it to make sure. Zoe was reading the list and I was locating the items.

At the end of the list she asked, "No crayons?"

I scanned the list and confirmed, "Nope, no crayons."

"Wow, that is serious."

Nuns

Last night I introduced Zoe to one of the greatest musical movies of all time, "Sound of Music." She was hesitant about watching it, reluctant to give up iCarly for something Mom said is good, but I pulled out the old bribe card and told that if she liked it, she could stay up past her bedtime to watch.

I knew she was going to love it and I was right. She was hooked before the Reverend Mother finished singing "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?" and didn't tear herself from the TV until the Von Trapps had fled the Nazis.

You know the scene when the Von Trapp children go to the abbey to look for Maria after she ran away because the Baroness says all that nasty stuff to her? While we were watching that scene Zoe said to me, "Why do the call them nuns?"

"I don't actually know," I replied. "But I am sure we can find out."

"They should be call hundreds," Zoe said.

"Hundreds?"

"Yes, because of how much they love God. Hundreds. Not none."

I couldn't answer because I was holding back the laughter. Luckily the Reverend Mother started singing "Climb Every Mountain."

Friday list of things learned

• I should never leave an open bag of those soft peppermint candies next to me on my desk while I am working because then I will eat way to many of them and get a stomach ache.


• Cardinals seem to eat a lot more birdseed than the chickadees were eating.


• I can actually name 4 species of birds without having to look them up in my Birds of North America book. (Cardinals, Blue Jays, Chickadees, Starlings)
  


• Zoe thinks chess (as in the game of) which she has been learning to play all school year in her school's chess club is pronounced "chest." As in, "I have a chest club tournament tomorrow." It is giggle inducing.


• Figured out how to create my own ringtone for my iPhone. My ring is now Zoe saying "ring, ring, ring! pick up the phone already (repeat)"
  


• I can conduct a conference call with my entire work team from my car while parked in the Stop & Shop parking lot.


• Telling a 7 year old that she is being a cry baby is actually not an effective way to get her to stop crying. (Bad Mommy moment #437)
  

The Pants 180

For the last year, maybe longer, Zoe has almost exclusively worn "soft pants" or their shorts equivalent. "Soft pants" are stretch pants, but they are not as tight as leggings. They are like yoga pants, but they are not wide-legged either. I know this because of all the "soft pant" rejects that crowd the bottom drawer of Zoe's dresser. This fall Old Navy was good enough to produce the perfect "soft pants" and for once I was smart and I bought them in every color except pink. Pink anything went the way of skirts, dresses and all other pants at that same moment last year.

For the most part I let Zoe pick out what she is going to wear each day. I let her pick her pants and then help her choose a shirt that matches. On Thursdays I get to select her outfit and as long as it is not a skirt or a dress she usually wears the outfit I select. I almost always choose the one pair of jeans that she owns and a shirt she rarely wears. Every week since school started she has complained about these jeans and sometimes has even managed to talk me out of selecting them.

This week on Tuesday night when we were picking out clothes for Wednesday Zoe said I should pick and that would mean I wouldn't get to choose for Thursday. I agreed to that and immediately reached for the jeans. She happily wore her jeans to school on Wednesday and then on Wednesday night when we were getting ready for bed and about to choose Thursday's clothes she informed me that she wanted to wear jeans every day from now on. Excuse me? Did I hear that correctly? Apparently so because when I explained to her that her one pair of jeans was dirty she asked me to please wash them so she could wear them again. I agreed because I am sick of the "soft pants" and what is one more load of laundry anyway. At the risk of her changing her mind, I had to ask her why, after all these months and months of wanting to wear nothing but soft pants, did she suddenly decide it had to be jeans?

Her answer: Because I am an artist and all artists wear jeans everyday.

I have absolutely no idea where that came from and I didn't even ask.

Questions for Mom

Seems like lately Zoe speaks in questions and they all tend to start with "Mom?" Heard in a typical day:

"Mom? Can I watch TV?"

"Mom? Can I have a snack?"

"Mom? What's 23+23?"

"Mom? Did you see what I made?"

"Mom? What does this say?"

"Mom? Can I mail this letter to Sophia?"

"Mom? Can I have a playdate with Hannah?"

"Mom? Can I have more milk?"

"Mom? Can I be done?"

"Mom? What is your favorite color?"

"Mom? Can I have dessert?"

"Mom? How do you spell airplane?"

"Mom? Where's my journal?"

"Mom? Can we get that?"

"Mom? Can you take me to the bathroom?"

"Mom? When is my birthday?"

"Mom? Did you know that a baby kangaroo is called a Joey?"

"Mom? Can I have 5 more minutes?"

"Mom? Where's Daddy?"

"Mom? Can I have some more?"

"Mom? Can you tuck me in?"

"Mom? When are we going to be there?"

"Mom? When can we go?"


Luckily, just when I am getting exasperated I get this:

"Mom? I love you."

Proud to be a Connecticut Yankee

Today is the official start of same-sex marriages as a reality in Connecticut!

There's a nice article in the NY Times about it all.

“Today, Connecticut sends a message of hope and promise to lesbian and gay people throughout the country who want to be treated as equal citizens by their government,” said Ben Klein, a lawyer with Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders, a Boston group that litigated the Connecticut case. “It is living proof that marriage equality is moving forward in this country.”

Interestingly on Monday night Zoe and I were in Border's and out of the blue she asked me, "Mom, can a girl marry a girl?"

I smiled to myself and said, "yes, a girl can marry a girl and boy can marry a boy." And I thought to myself -- now.