Beach Vacations

So, remember when ilya was terrified of being anywhere near water when we signed her up for those swim lessons about a year ago? Remember how worried I was that she would grow up hating the water and never learn to swim? Apparently all she needed was a tropical sun and a pool that was designed specifically with her in mind complete with a shallow end consisting of about 1 foot of water that occupied half the pool. She was in heaven. She apparently doesn't remember her fear of swimming because she jumped right into the water like she was born to be there.

This love of water, however, does not extend to the ocean. Ilya is convinced that the ocean is some sort of monster that will certainly gobble her up if she is anywhere within a 30 foot radius of the thing. This fear extends to family members, which is really quite sweet if you think about it. Every time I would jump into the ocean, she would cry and cry until I came back out (alive, surprisingly). She did enjoy building sand castles and being buried in the sand.

Ilya also loved running around bear foot and saying "hola" to everyone she passed. She did NOT enjoy the plane ride. Neither did the people sitting next to us, now that I think about it. We did everything we could to entertain her, including offering to let her watch "Blues Clues" TV for the first time EVER, but there is only so much that can be done in a 3 foot by 3 foot area. Just in case you were wondering, the TV managed to entertain her for approximately 5 minutes!

Other, non-Ilya related details: Adam and I took a day off, courtesy of Grandma Mel, to go on the "Bora Bora" while Ilya stayed behind with Grandma to play on the beach. The tour consisted of waiting a very long time in the rain (yes, it does rain in Puerto Vallarta) to board a ship with very loud spanish music blaring constantly. We had wanted to go on this tour because it was billed as a "snorkeling adventure." The "snorkeling adventure consisted of 10 minutes of watching three fish eat left-over fruit with 50 other people, many of whom were kicking you in the face the entire time. There was a spanish DJ whose job it was to entertain the passengers. I wouldn't know as he only spoke spanish, and the one time I did venture downstairs, I was confronted with a half naked 50 year old, overweight Mexican man doing a strip tease. I am not making this shit up. There just isn't enough alcohol in the world to make that entertaining.

The rest of the trip was lovely complete with tropical sunsets, sunbathing, excellent food and more sun than rain. They kept playing holiday music, which really weirded me out as it was about 80 degrees outside, but I guess Christmas happens on December 25th no matter where you are in the world.

I read Julie/Julia on the beach and got inspired to spend a year cooking a an entire recipe book while blogging about it. Then I got uninspired when I realized that the indulgences that I had already partaken in thus far on the trip had increased my waistline far more than I would like to admit and cooking french food with all that butter would do nothing to help this problem. I did agree to reconsider the idea if Adam could find a cookbook that was a chicken and sea food only dairy-free cookbook. Anyone out there have any good suggestions?

My skin, has once again, stubbornly refused to turn any colors other than red or white. I, however, having learned from previous mistakes (Thailand) decided to maintain my chalky white color rather than the oh-so-attractive red color that seams to be all the fashion this season. I love the holiday season, but I must draw the line somewhere.

Gwynne

I don't remember the first time I met Gwynne, but I do remember that she was not like anyone I had ever met before. For one thing, her house was a mess. There was always butter on the counter and dirt everywhere. One time, she even mailed her son, Matt, a care package that contained - among other things - cat poop. She drank wine and told me that Kivas were used to sacrifice shrimp to the aliens. Gwynne was not like other mothers, and I loved her for that.

I loved that she made no apologies for the way she lived. She was full of ideas and stories and was never afraid to pursue them. She treasured her family and her animals and devoted her time and energy to them instead of her floors. I'd never met someone so committed to her ideals. She believed in the power of stories. I always felt comfortable and accepted when I was at her house, and as I grew older, she made the effort to stay in touch with me. She even sent my daughter her only copy of "Goodnight Moon" - a favorite in our house.

When I found out that she died, I cried, but I also reminded myself that there are more important things in this world than a clean kitchen and a dinner on the table at 6pm. I was reminded of all the stories that I want to share with my daughter and the adventures that I want to have. Remembering her life, helped bring a little bit of peace to my life.

I will miss you, Gwynne, but I will continue to be inspired by you.

A Letter for my Daughter

Dearest Ilya,

I wanted to write this so that when you are older and you look back through these posts to see what you were like as a toddler, you might understand how incredibly special you are. Most parents think that their children are amazing and talented and brilliant. Most parents thrill in the accomplishments that their children achieve and tell anyone and everyone how amazing their child is. Most parents delight in the day to day wonder that their child brings. Adam and I are no different from most parents, but you are very different from most children. 

When you walk into a room, people can't take their eyes off you. Other children gravitate towards you and want to know you. Adults are in awe of your abilities and your charming disposition. Everyone who meets you loves you. 

You have the vocabulary of a three year old. You smile all the time. When you meet new friends (and every child you meet between the age of 1 and 12 is a new friend) you create joy and fun with screeches and giggles and games that involve running in circles. You delight in things like water drains and lady bugs. You sing the A, B, C's and count to three and spell your name. You stir pots when we cook and pour water from cup to cup until you get bored and empty it all on the floor. 

I don't know what I did to deserve such an amazingly wonderful daughter, but I do know that you are special. And Loved.

counting

Ilya has learned to count - except for "one". 

She sounds like this: "two, three!" in a really high pitched voice which I think is what she thinks Adam and I sound like when we are trying to get her to say something.

Maybe we should all just get rid of "one". I mean, really, how many things in life would be so much better if there was more than one. Brownies, kittens, best friends...I'm sure there are others, but I'm blanking. 

She can also say her "A, B, C's"...kinda. It sounds like this: "A, B, C, L, M, N, O, P," and sometimes she adds "Z" just to finish it off. 

Brilliant!

I think we're going to move to Germany!

Some very dear friends of ours have been traveling the country/world for the last year and have decided to settle in Germany for a while. Being the spontaneous, travel-lusting people that we are, Adam and I have decided to meet them there and spend a year living in Germany. This, of course depends on our ability to get a visa, and, seeing how neither one of us will actually be working in Germany, this might be troublesome. I think that it is all going work out, though. Don't know why, I just do. 

So, yesterday, we hoped on craigslist and sold a bunch of stuff that has been cluttering our home for years. We have a long way to go, and the thought of finding a home for all our stuff is quite overwhelming, but, again, I'm not too worried about it. It will all work out. 

Where is this zen attitude coming from, you might ask? Why so calm in the face of such an overwhelming list of things to do? I don't know. Maybe my life is going where it should. 

I've been trying to learn German on livemocha.com for the past few weeks. I can now, with some confidence, call someone fat and poor in German. You gotta love these on-line language learning tools :) 

We would be moving to a small town about an hour east of Berlin named Magdeburg. Housing is really cheap and our goal would be to become fluent in German by the end of the year. 

In other, adorable baby news: Ilya can now get dressed by herself...kinda...

First, she puts the dress on over her feet (please ignore the mess...I was going to give some lame excuse for why it is so messy, but, lets face it, its always this bad)

Next, she pulls the dress up...

And, she's done! She then proceeds to walk around the house with both feet in the arm hole of the dress, which, in case you were wondering, DOES inhibit her ability to walk. Sometimes she adds pearls to her ensemble. 

What to do? What to do?

I give up. I am at a crossroads in my life where I can literally do anything, and I have no idea what I should do. As I am a fan of lists and bullet points, here are some of my thoughts in a nice orderly bullet pointed list:

* go back to teaching - 

Pros: I love the day to day interactions with students, love teaching, summers off, same hours as Ilya when she is in school. 

Cons: bad pay, no respect, angry parents who assume I am giving their child an F because I harbor some deep seeded desire for their child to be a failure rather than because their child doesn't actually understand the material, long hours.

* be an astronomer - 

Pros: love astronomy, love math and physics, want to learn more about our universe, respect. 

Cons: very hard to get a job, lots of school.

* be a computer programer - 

Pros: work from home, flexible hours, great pay, respect, solving logic problems. 

Cons: tedious, isolating, not sure I'm going to like it

* develop my tutoring company - 

Pros: great pay, interesting work, already have a client base

Cons: working more hours than get paid for, unreliable

These are the major options that I've been thinking about. I would love to know what you, my faithful readers, think. Any other ideas. 

My new favorite trick

Alice has always grunted like an old, constipated man while she poops. SDN and I think this is hilarious. Apparently Alice does too. Her new trick is telling you what sounds the animals make: Dog = bark, bark. Cat = meow. Cow = mooooo. Duck = quack, quack. If you ask her what sound poop makes, she looks at you and gives a low, long grunt: uhhhhhhhhhhhh, grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...