May 29, 2006


At the Children's Garden

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Monday, May 29, 2006
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May 25, 2006


I used to have a sea of time to burn, to torch. Lost in time, bored to tears and death, knowing not what to do. Now time, especially after-work and before-work time is a valuable commodity for me.

I have to fight for every Emma-is-waking minute. Always a lost battle. On weekdays, with 8 solid hours at work and almost two hours commuting, all I get is a tiny one hour (6:30 to 7:30) in the morning, a miserable two hours (5:30-9:00) in the evening.

As ever, dressing up, washing up and eating take up the chunk of the morning time. Everytime I say good-bye, Emma loops over her arms around me not wanting me to go.

Next week, Emma would be going to preschool. I wonder what kind of finely-tuned cajoling skills and delicate balance I need to get her dressed, washed and ready for school, while still have some morning fun time with her. She has just learned to dress herself head to toe. But how slowly! She needs an audience (bunny, me, sometimes daddy, bear...) to watch her and applaud for her. She stops in the middle of putting up her undies to talk to her little bunny for minutes. Still I do not want to rush her or just dress for her. It won't work anyway.

As always, in the evening, we have to do so many important things, eating super, washing up, maybe a short walk out, reading and talking, brushing teeth, then maybe more milk or cookies (she always ask for it before bed), then I sing while she gradually falls asleep.


She sleeps hopelessly late. I know. Babies are supposed to sleep at 7, at least no later than 8. But How? You get home at 5:30 and it takes an hour to finish super (ignore the cooking time, right now my mom cooks)? And how do you squeeze the reading time?

Some iron-clad rules, some structure. Maybe. However, will you take the child's plate away if the half-hour dinner time is up but she is only half full?

Any good intelligent moms out there?

Mind the time

Posted by Xun  |  1 comment


I used to have a sea of time to burn, to torch. Lost in time, bored to tears and death, knowing not what to do. Now time, especially after-work and before-work time is a valuable commodity for me.

I have to fight for every Emma-is-waking minute. Always a lost battle. On weekdays, with 8 solid hours at work and almost two hours commuting, all I get is a tiny one hour (6:30 to 7:30) in the morning, a miserable two hours (5:30-9:00) in the evening.

As ever, dressing up, washing up and eating take up the chunk of the morning time. Everytime I say good-bye, Emma loops over her arms around me not wanting me to go.

Next week, Emma would be going to preschool. I wonder what kind of finely-tuned cajoling skills and delicate balance I need to get her dressed, washed and ready for school, while still have some morning fun time with her. She has just learned to dress herself head to toe. But how slowly! She needs an audience (bunny, me, sometimes daddy, bear...) to watch her and applaud for her. She stops in the middle of putting up her undies to talk to her little bunny for minutes. Still I do not want to rush her or just dress for her. It won't work anyway.

As always, in the evening, we have to do so many important things, eating super, washing up, maybe a short walk out, reading and talking, brushing teeth, then maybe more milk or cookies (she always ask for it before bed), then I sing while she gradually falls asleep.


She sleeps hopelessly late. I know. Babies are supposed to sleep at 7, at least no later than 8. But How? You get home at 5:30 and it takes an hour to finish super (ignore the cooking time, right now my mom cooks)? And how do you squeeze the reading time?

Some iron-clad rules, some structure. Maybe. However, will you take the child's plate away if the half-hour dinner time is up but she is only half full?

Any good intelligent moms out there?

Thursday, May 25, 2006
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May 23, 2006

Friday, I took Emma to her doctor's office for a physical examination (to get ready for preschool). She got As in all growth categories (She is active, happy, very verbal. She even gained a pound in just two months).

However, I feel unsatisfied with her height. Right now, Emma stands just about 2' 10'' (88cm). The first time, the nurse Luz measured her using the regular toddler scale. 2' 10'', she announced and left. And We sauntered around the room to wait for the doctor, Dr. Terrizzi.

Emma's pediatrician is small, friendly and has a way with children. Whenever children are cranky, he would turn off light and use his flashlights to project bright moons on the wall. He would also whistle high fast tunes like birds. These tricks generally make children quiet and cooperative.

About 10 minutes also, Dr, Terrizzi showed up. Looking at the chart, he said: "This is not right. She cannot be shorter". Indeed, she regressed on the chart. So we measured Emma one more time, lying her down on a baby scale, fussy about whether her head has touched headboard perfectly. The result did not fare very much better. After 2 tries, Emma became officially 88cm tall, in the 25 percentile range.

Ouch. My heart sank a little. Will she be as short as I am, or even shorter?

"She will be taller than you." Dr. Terrizzi said as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.

Easy to say. And what does he know?

However, there is really nothing I can do. Even Google search would not turn up much helpful information. Maybe it is simply growth delay. Maybe she will grow faster when she hits puberty. But whatever, tt is n your genes.

Still, dream for a miracle. All my children be pretty and tall, talented and lovable.

A miracle, please!

Posted by Xun  |  2 comments

Friday, I took Emma to her doctor's office for a physical examination (to get ready for preschool). She got As in all growth categories (She is active, happy, very verbal. She even gained a pound in just two months).

However, I feel unsatisfied with her height. Right now, Emma stands just about 2' 10'' (88cm). The first time, the nurse Luz measured her using the regular toddler scale. 2' 10'', she announced and left. And We sauntered around the room to wait for the doctor, Dr. Terrizzi.

Emma's pediatrician is small, friendly and has a way with children. Whenever children are cranky, he would turn off light and use his flashlights to project bright moons on the wall. He would also whistle high fast tunes like birds. These tricks generally make children quiet and cooperative.

About 10 minutes also, Dr, Terrizzi showed up. Looking at the chart, he said: "This is not right. She cannot be shorter". Indeed, she regressed on the chart. So we measured Emma one more time, lying her down on a baby scale, fussy about whether her head has touched headboard perfectly. The result did not fare very much better. After 2 tries, Emma became officially 88cm tall, in the 25 percentile range.

Ouch. My heart sank a little. Will she be as short as I am, or even shorter?

"She will be taller than you." Dr. Terrizzi said as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.

Easy to say. And what does he know?

However, there is really nothing I can do. Even Google search would not turn up much helpful information. Maybe it is simply growth delay. Maybe she will grow faster when she hits puberty. But whatever, tt is n your genes.

Still, dream for a miracle. All my children be pretty and tall, talented and lovable.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006
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May 22, 2006

The fun touch of MOCKED fame

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Monday, May 22, 2006
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May 18, 2006


On Saturday, we went to the Museum of Contemporary Art. Except the multitude of very busy, noisy family activities on the first floor, ANDY WARHOL's exhibition "SUPERNOVA: Stars, Deaths, and Disasters",
was the only thing I remembered, cared and thought about.

I could not understand his works. All seemed boring, chaotic, perfunctory, and repetitious. I later learned all the work was mass produced in his so-called "factory", with slight variation applied later so each version had a slightly different look. I found it disturbing to see the grid of dark-colored, shaded, wide-opened mouths of Marilyn Monroe, a series of grainy reproduction of Jackie Kennedy's snap-shots, juxtaposed in grid, like a bad old yellowish newspaper. The famed "Campbell's soup" seemed outdated and molded and silly, like a stereotyped old movie.

With the little time I had, I leafed through the few books by or about Andy Warhol scattered around the museum hall, especially "The philosophy of Andy Warhol". I was puzzled, mystified and intrigued.

Later I searched Andy Warhol on the Internet. There are pages and pages of his works, Marilyn Monroe, Elisabeth Taylor, just as I have seen in the museum. However, while in my mind all the images have faded tired look, the reprints on the web were hilariously cheerfully bright (eg. the Mao's portrait).

I searched for his biography, wishing maybe I could read a bit more "The Philosophy of Andy Warhol". None. There is closed to nothing. The closest I could find is a page dryly running through the laundry list of his works (paintings, films, books...), a bit of his background, and the "Factory".

On the knowing-all, all-encompassing Wikipedia, I only found this one sentence:

"Andy Warhol (August 6, 1928 – February 22, 1987) was an American painter, filmmaker, publisher, actor, and a major figure in the Pop Art movement", followed by a long long list of Andy Warhol's quotes.

(Today I went back, the entry has been modified on May 17th. It has added lengthy details on his paintings and films. Still not very much more from what I have gleaned from the web)

His quotes are much more interesting than his art, simple, insightful, honest and funny. The two quotes of his about "15-minute-fame" is already a cliche. His quote "I am a deeply superficial person" struck me as very true.

I wish I had said the same about myself. Actually I did, many times. Only his superficial-ness plus his genius makes him interesting, mine plus my nothing-less makes me boring.

Andy Warhol

Posted by Xun  |  No comments


On Saturday, we went to the Museum of Contemporary Art. Except the multitude of very busy, noisy family activities on the first floor, ANDY WARHOL's exhibition "SUPERNOVA: Stars, Deaths, and Disasters",
was the only thing I remembered, cared and thought about.

I could not understand his works. All seemed boring, chaotic, perfunctory, and repetitious. I later learned all the work was mass produced in his so-called "factory", with slight variation applied later so each version had a slightly different look. I found it disturbing to see the grid of dark-colored, shaded, wide-opened mouths of Marilyn Monroe, a series of grainy reproduction of Jackie Kennedy's snap-shots, juxtaposed in grid, like a bad old yellowish newspaper. The famed "Campbell's soup" seemed outdated and molded and silly, like a stereotyped old movie.

With the little time I had, I leafed through the few books by or about Andy Warhol scattered around the museum hall, especially "The philosophy of Andy Warhol". I was puzzled, mystified and intrigued.

Later I searched Andy Warhol on the Internet. There are pages and pages of his works, Marilyn Monroe, Elisabeth Taylor, just as I have seen in the museum. However, while in my mind all the images have faded tired look, the reprints on the web were hilariously cheerfully bright (eg. the Mao's portrait).

I searched for his biography, wishing maybe I could read a bit more "The Philosophy of Andy Warhol". None. There is closed to nothing. The closest I could find is a page dryly running through the laundry list of his works (paintings, films, books...), a bit of his background, and the "Factory".

On the knowing-all, all-encompassing Wikipedia, I only found this one sentence:

"Andy Warhol (August 6, 1928 – February 22, 1987) was an American painter, filmmaker, publisher, actor, and a major figure in the Pop Art movement", followed by a long long list of Andy Warhol's quotes.

(Today I went back, the entry has been modified on May 17th. It has added lengthy details on his paintings and films. Still not very much more from what I have gleaned from the web)

His quotes are much more interesting than his art, simple, insightful, honest and funny. The two quotes of his about "15-minute-fame" is already a cliche. His quote "I am a deeply superficial person" struck me as very true.

I wish I had said the same about myself. Actually I did, many times. Only his superficial-ness plus his genius makes him interesting, mine plus my nothing-less makes me boring.

Thursday, May 18, 2006
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May 15, 2006



Just when we planned our get-away weekend, the temperature dropped. My parents were forced to put on their warm wool coat. Not wanting to just stay home, watching the gray sky and wind blowing the tree branches (sometimes violently), we opted for a nearby nature center in Skokie.

I thought it would be a indoor nature center, with birds, flowers and exotic trees. No, it is a big woods with a small lake on the side, and paved and wood chipped trails running through.

We got there in the morning. Cold, quiet, very quiet and what a lovely expanse of deep green. We loved it. The small playground has slide, merry-go-around, climber, walking bridge, all the regular things, but it also has SEE-SAW, and a sand box with SAND DIGGERS (not very often seen in other playgrounds). Still cold and wet with the last rain. We rode the see-saw, Emma took turns sitting in our arms. She loved it.

The stars in our small outing were the two mother geese and four little baby geese sauntering around, absolutely at ease with our stare. Later, we saw the mother geese gracefully led the four baby geese swimming away, as if they were gliding along the surface.

Emma was fascinated and I missed no opportunity snapping away.

Gee, Geese!

Posted by Xun  |  No comments



Just when we planned our get-away weekend, the temperature dropped. My parents were forced to put on their warm wool coat. Not wanting to just stay home, watching the gray sky and wind blowing the tree branches (sometimes violently), we opted for a nearby nature center in Skokie.

I thought it would be a indoor nature center, with birds, flowers and exotic trees. No, it is a big woods with a small lake on the side, and paved and wood chipped trails running through.

We got there in the morning. Cold, quiet, very quiet and what a lovely expanse of deep green. We loved it. The small playground has slide, merry-go-around, climber, walking bridge, all the regular things, but it also has SEE-SAW, and a sand box with SAND DIGGERS (not very often seen in other playgrounds). Still cold and wet with the last rain. We rode the see-saw, Emma took turns sitting in our arms. She loved it.

The stars in our small outing were the two mother geese and four little baby geese sauntering around, absolutely at ease with our stare. Later, we saw the mother geese gracefully led the four baby geese swimming away, as if they were gliding along the surface.

Emma was fascinated and I missed no opportunity snapping away.

Monday, May 15, 2006
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May 12, 2006

The organic grocery stores The Whole Foods, or "Wild Oats" (previously "People's Market") are the places I rarely set my feet in. For the few times I did, I liked the high mounds of oranges, or peaches, the little dishes of chips for free sampling, or the exquisite display of very delicate table wares. However, the price always makes me acutely aware of my shallow pocket and conscious of the big price gap between these organic hand-picked whatever and their commercial twins sitting in Jewel just a few feet away.

Price aside, I do not really have anything for or against organic food. All through my life in China, every bit of food is probably completely organic. In the very early years, in my small town, I sometimes even saw peasants hoisted up and then shouldered away pails of fece for manure. Of course, the stench was unbearable. My mom often took me shopping for grocers in a place similar to the Maxwell market in Chicago. There, in the sun or rain, or snow, in all weathers, farmers squatted on both sides of a designated street, behind their miserable display of a small variety of vegetables. Everything was so organic and minimally processed, you still see the dirt on your spinach or carrots.

It was a miserable life for a lot of people. Before sunrise, farmers carried their very limited produces and walked miles to the little town, then after dawn, they pocketed their pennies or dimes and walked long way back home. In my family, we never worried about the organic-ity of our foods, we only worried the inadequacy of foods. Chicken was a luxury, so was pork, sometimes, even rice was rationed. Looking back, I cannot see how the organic foods have in any way make me healthier, or how I have savored the much lauded idyllly-produced organic foods.

Now a lot was vastly improved (though peasants in China are still struggling terribly). Even my mom would complain that nowadays chicken (she called "foreign" chicken") taste much less tender and lack of "flavor of chicken".

I do not know. To me, chicken is chicken, tomatoes are tomatoes, organic or otherwise, although a hefty price tag maybe sometime have made my taste buds feel a little pampered (like the way a very expensive suit makes you feel).

I have been aware of the disdain or anger and dire warnings some people have about "conventional commerially raised chicken" and the unrestrained enthusiasm towards organic food. I always try to brush aside them, knowing that my family and I could not afford the organic lifestyle anyway. However, with Emma in mind, by and by, I buy more pork than chicken. By and by, when I buy chicken, I would look for something that says "natural" or "free-ranged", or I would just buy them however not without a tidbit sense of guilt (are there horomone, estrogen, antibiotics or many tiny invisible chemicals lurking to do harm to her?)

Now I read an article "Big Organic", that says the following:

According to Samuel Fromartz, ninety per cent of "frequent" organic buyers think they're buying better "health and nutrition." They may be right. If, for any reason, you don't want the slightest pesticide residue in your salad, or you want to insure that there are no traces of recombinant bovine somatotropin hormone (rbST) in your children's milk, you're better off spending the extra money for organically produced food. But scientific evidence for the risks of such residues is iffy, as it is, too, for the benefits of the micro-nutrients that are said to be more plentiful in an organic carrot than in its conventional equivalent.

Other people are buying taste, but there's little you can say about other people's taste in carrots and not much more you can intelligibly articulate about your own. The taste of an heirloom carrot bought five years ago from the Chino family farm in Rancho Santa Fe, California, sticks indelibly in my memory, though at the time I hadnÂ’t any idea whether artificial fertilizers or pesticides had been applied to it. (I later learned that they had not.) For many fruits and vegetables, freshness, weed control, and the variety grown may be far more important to taste than whether the soil in which they were grown was dosed with ammonium nitrate. Pollan did his own taste test by shopping at Whole Foods for an all-organic meal: everything was pretty good, except for the six-dollar bunch of organic asparagus, which had been grown in Argentina, air-freighted six thousand miles to the States, and immured for a week in the distribution chain. Pollan shouldn't have been surprised that it tasted like "cardboard."


???

Organic or Not?

Posted by Xun  |  4 comments

The organic grocery stores The Whole Foods, or "Wild Oats" (previously "People's Market") are the places I rarely set my feet in. For the few times I did, I liked the high mounds of oranges, or peaches, the little dishes of chips for free sampling, or the exquisite display of very delicate table wares. However, the price always makes me acutely aware of my shallow pocket and conscious of the big price gap between these organic hand-picked whatever and their commercial twins sitting in Jewel just a few feet away.

Price aside, I do not really have anything for or against organic food. All through my life in China, every bit of food is probably completely organic. In the very early years, in my small town, I sometimes even saw peasants hoisted up and then shouldered away pails of fece for manure. Of course, the stench was unbearable. My mom often took me shopping for grocers in a place similar to the Maxwell market in Chicago. There, in the sun or rain, or snow, in all weathers, farmers squatted on both sides of a designated street, behind their miserable display of a small variety of vegetables. Everything was so organic and minimally processed, you still see the dirt on your spinach or carrots.

It was a miserable life for a lot of people. Before sunrise, farmers carried their very limited produces and walked miles to the little town, then after dawn, they pocketed their pennies or dimes and walked long way back home. In my family, we never worried about the organic-ity of our foods, we only worried the inadequacy of foods. Chicken was a luxury, so was pork, sometimes, even rice was rationed. Looking back, I cannot see how the organic foods have in any way make me healthier, or how I have savored the much lauded idyllly-produced organic foods.

Now a lot was vastly improved (though peasants in China are still struggling terribly). Even my mom would complain that nowadays chicken (she called "foreign" chicken") taste much less tender and lack of "flavor of chicken".

I do not know. To me, chicken is chicken, tomatoes are tomatoes, organic or otherwise, although a hefty price tag maybe sometime have made my taste buds feel a little pampered (like the way a very expensive suit makes you feel).

I have been aware of the disdain or anger and dire warnings some people have about "conventional commerially raised chicken" and the unrestrained enthusiasm towards organic food. I always try to brush aside them, knowing that my family and I could not afford the organic lifestyle anyway. However, with Emma in mind, by and by, I buy more pork than chicken. By and by, when I buy chicken, I would look for something that says "natural" or "free-ranged", or I would just buy them however not without a tidbit sense of guilt (are there horomone, estrogen, antibiotics or many tiny invisible chemicals lurking to do harm to her?)

Now I read an article "Big Organic", that says the following:

According to Samuel Fromartz, ninety per cent of "frequent" organic buyers think they're buying better "health and nutrition." They may be right. If, for any reason, you don't want the slightest pesticide residue in your salad, or you want to insure that there are no traces of recombinant bovine somatotropin hormone (rbST) in your children's milk, you're better off spending the extra money for organically produced food. But scientific evidence for the risks of such residues is iffy, as it is, too, for the benefits of the micro-nutrients that are said to be more plentiful in an organic carrot than in its conventional equivalent.

Other people are buying taste, but there's little you can say about other people's taste in carrots and not much more you can intelligibly articulate about your own. The taste of an heirloom carrot bought five years ago from the Chino family farm in Rancho Santa Fe, California, sticks indelibly in my memory, though at the time I hadnÂ’t any idea whether artificial fertilizers or pesticides had been applied to it. (I later learned that they had not.) For many fruits and vegetables, freshness, weed control, and the variety grown may be far more important to taste than whether the soil in which they were grown was dosed with ammonium nitrate. Pollan did his own taste test by shopping at Whole Foods for an all-organic meal: everything was pretty good, except for the six-dollar bunch of organic asparagus, which had been grown in Argentina, air-freighted six thousand miles to the States, and immured for a week in the distribution chain. Pollan shouldn't have been surprised that it tasted like "cardboard."


???

Friday, May 12, 2006
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4 comments:

May 06, 2006


When Emma is surrounded by family (mom, dad, grandma-and-pa), in a familiar environment, e.g., home, or even in a welcoming relative's home, she is happy, active, talkative, running and singing a lot and frequently making remarks that are sometimes incorrect, but funny or observant or sweet, or all of them.

For example, if she see you cough, she would say to you in a very concerning tone, "You have a cold? You need to drink water, eat your medicine." She often us: "I am your sweet baby. I am so good."

My dad has a habit of walking after dinner. When he came back today, Emma said, "Grandpa, where have you gone? Did you go to school or out for a walk?"

Leo today had a super-short hair cut. When Emma saw him in his new look, she was kindly confused, so said she: "Are you DADDY???"

...

(I think Emma is advanced in terms of her language skills. Often read that toddlers at this age can make 3-to-5-word sentences, but she can make complex sentences, using a lot of "if", "because...", etc., inserting new words everyday.)

She is a brainy child, however, she is not physical. She is not rough and tough. She would fuss over a small cut for days, demanding to cover it with a band aid with a pudgy Winnie face.

She is small. Small frame, small roundish face, small oval-shaped black eyes, low nose bridge, small up-turned nose, small plump lips. Everything about her is small, cute, lovable, fragile like a China porcelain doll.

She is not a sport type, probably never will be. She loves music, books, arts, crafts, stuff animals, and other "intellectual" quiet play-alone games. Yeah, she does not like to play with other kids. She loves swing, but that probably is the only outdoor "sports" thing. She is timid with sliding. Took us quite some persuading and her quite some trying that she started tentatively stiff sliding down. She quickly learned to bike her tricycle, but she quickly lost interest in it. I bet she would never speed like crazy as other kids do.

She is always cautious, not adventurous. While other kids would jump, run, climb all over, and slide down bed or every other thing slidable, Emma would always check out carefully, holding on things tightly, daring out let go, e.g., the bed sheet she is holds on while trying to get off the bed. She would cry, "Mommy, I will fall. ..."

She is always very polite, sweet and affectionate towards older people, however, she seems to be weary or afraid of or cautious about her peers. So far, a lot of times, when other little toddlers approaches her, she would kind of freeze, watching, not saying or doing anything. She is always easily taken advantage of and pushed around by other kids.

One day, at the children's museum, I took her to slide. When she climbed up to the top and was ready to swing, then some other kids came close to her, she immediately retreated and told me: "There are other kids." I said, "Emma, it is ok. It's your turn. They can wait". But she exited anyway. A few times, other kids rushed over and took over her brush and went ahead painting, Emma simply looked upon them.

It hurts me whenever I see her retreat without a fight, withdraw without a protest. It pains me to think that when she is older she would be bullied by other kids, or she would always on the fringe, watching, unable to stand up for herself and make the best for herself. I wish her stronger. I wonder how much the withdrawing, non aggressive, introverted, shy side ( and everything that cages you) of Leo and me is passed on to her. I wonder how much she can fight her genes, how much I can help her, myself quiet, socially awkward, always prefer to stay alone, have only few friends, suffering fits of self-pity, self-blame because of the opportunities and time passed by, because of all the things I would never be

...

Everything about my child

Posted by Xun  |  1 comment


When Emma is surrounded by family (mom, dad, grandma-and-pa), in a familiar environment, e.g., home, or even in a welcoming relative's home, she is happy, active, talkative, running and singing a lot and frequently making remarks that are sometimes incorrect, but funny or observant or sweet, or all of them.

For example, if she see you cough, she would say to you in a very concerning tone, "You have a cold? You need to drink water, eat your medicine." She often us: "I am your sweet baby. I am so good."

My dad has a habit of walking after dinner. When he came back today, Emma said, "Grandpa, where have you gone? Did you go to school or out for a walk?"

Leo today had a super-short hair cut. When Emma saw him in his new look, she was kindly confused, so said she: "Are you DADDY???"

...

(I think Emma is advanced in terms of her language skills. Often read that toddlers at this age can make 3-to-5-word sentences, but she can make complex sentences, using a lot of "if", "because...", etc., inserting new words everyday.)

She is a brainy child, however, she is not physical. She is not rough and tough. She would fuss over a small cut for days, demanding to cover it with a band aid with a pudgy Winnie face.

She is small. Small frame, small roundish face, small oval-shaped black eyes, low nose bridge, small up-turned nose, small plump lips. Everything about her is small, cute, lovable, fragile like a China porcelain doll.

She is not a sport type, probably never will be. She loves music, books, arts, crafts, stuff animals, and other "intellectual" quiet play-alone games. Yeah, she does not like to play with other kids. She loves swing, but that probably is the only outdoor "sports" thing. She is timid with sliding. Took us quite some persuading and her quite some trying that she started tentatively stiff sliding down. She quickly learned to bike her tricycle, but she quickly lost interest in it. I bet she would never speed like crazy as other kids do.

She is always cautious, not adventurous. While other kids would jump, run, climb all over, and slide down bed or every other thing slidable, Emma would always check out carefully, holding on things tightly, daring out let go, e.g., the bed sheet she is holds on while trying to get off the bed. She would cry, "Mommy, I will fall. ..."

She is always very polite, sweet and affectionate towards older people, however, she seems to be weary or afraid of or cautious about her peers. So far, a lot of times, when other little toddlers approaches her, she would kind of freeze, watching, not saying or doing anything. She is always easily taken advantage of and pushed around by other kids.

One day, at the children's museum, I took her to slide. When she climbed up to the top and was ready to swing, then some other kids came close to her, she immediately retreated and told me: "There are other kids." I said, "Emma, it is ok. It's your turn. They can wait". But she exited anyway. A few times, other kids rushed over and took over her brush and went ahead painting, Emma simply looked upon them.

It hurts me whenever I see her retreat without a fight, withdraw without a protest. It pains me to think that when she is older she would be bullied by other kids, or she would always on the fringe, watching, unable to stand up for herself and make the best for herself. I wish her stronger. I wonder how much the withdrawing, non aggressive, introverted, shy side ( and everything that cages you) of Leo and me is passed on to her. I wonder how much she can fight her genes, how much I can help her, myself quiet, socially awkward, always prefer to stay alone, have only few friends, suffering fits of self-pity, self-blame because of the opportunities and time passed by, because of all the things I would never be

...

Saturday, May 06, 2006
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May 02, 2006



Mocking Bird

Hush, my little baby do not say a word
Mama is gonna take you to bed

If the evening still looks bright
Mama and you are gonna read a few books
"Run away bunny", "A little ugly Duck" ...

In the sky when the moon rises
On your pillow, my little baby please lay your head

If however you feel a little lonely
Mommy has brought you the teddy bear

When the night becomes dark and deep
My little baby, you fall fast asleep

In your sleep you dream along
Let Mommy sing you a song
"Twinkle, twinkle little star"




Note: One of Emma's bed ritual is for me to sing her songs, lullabys or whatever. Lately, I found myself singing "Mocking bird". However, I often got stuck in the midddle, completely unable to recollect the words and the rhythm. I looked it up on the web, found various changed funny versions. So I decided to make my own.

However, with inadequate English background and foundation, I could not rhythm up the whole thing at all, instead, I got the above raw and twisted and elementary-levelled little song, or poem, or whatever...

Mocking Bird

Posted by Xun  |  3 comments



Mocking Bird

Hush, my little baby do not say a word
Mama is gonna take you to bed

If the evening still looks bright
Mama and you are gonna read a few books
"Run away bunny", "A little ugly Duck" ...

In the sky when the moon rises
On your pillow, my little baby please lay your head

If however you feel a little lonely
Mommy has brought you the teddy bear

When the night becomes dark and deep
My little baby, you fall fast asleep

In your sleep you dream along
Let Mommy sing you a song
"Twinkle, twinkle little star"




Note: One of Emma's bed ritual is for me to sing her songs, lullabys or whatever. Lately, I found myself singing "Mocking bird". However, I often got stuck in the midddle, completely unable to recollect the words and the rhythm. I looked it up on the web, found various changed funny versions. So I decided to make my own.

However, with inadequate English background and foundation, I could not rhythm up the whole thing at all, instead, I got the above raw and twisted and elementary-levelled little song, or poem, or whatever...

Tuesday, May 02, 2006
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