Time, time, time...

What feels most sad about not keeping up this blog is that I don't have a record to read back myself, the deliciousness of these years, my child, her sweetness and grace.  What do I want to remember?  Her songs.  She sings All The Time.  Not just songs from Frozen, but ones she makes up on the spot, mostly having to do with love in her heart, or seeing beauty in something.  Ah, the purity of the young heart!  The other day she sang the refrain "Take me, Take me to the moonlight..." I don't know if it was something she heard, or something she made up.  In the evening she asked me, what was I singing today?  Having heard it half a million times, I recalled it for her.  Other times when she sings these lovely made up lyrics over and over, neither of us can remember what they were even about.  And the writer in me curses, once again, not writing things down.

However there is this moment:  the one where my husband and Cassidy just came in the door from a rainy walk in the wood with the dog.  Cassidy has long needed new rain boots so I took a quick side trip to amazon to check out boots.  Cassidy snuggled next to me and there, alongside the boots I'm looking at, are toys and things.  "I want that," she says.  
"No," I say.  .... "You never get me ANYTHING!"  And now this 4 and a half year old girl sobbing next to me.  "I don't even WANT rain boots."  "Fine," I say.  "Then I won't get them for you."  
Wailing sobs.  Next to me.  Right now.  
Oh, yes.  And then there is that.  Then there are these moments to remember.  And now outstretched, feet tempting to kick me.  "Cassidy, I'm gonna push you off this couch if you kick me."  "But I'm NOT kicking you!"  Kick.
Oh yeah.  Then there are these moments.

The other moments I want to remember are about our trip to New York this past week to visit family and have fun.  I took her to NYC.  A crapshoot, I knew - what if she has to pee?  What if she gets totally overwhelmed?  She was fine, of course, except for the shoes.  Sandals rubbing against her toes, hurting.  "Carry me!"  Oh, Jeez.  Lugging 38 pounds in my arms for blocks at a time, no fun.  Ducked into a Gap and bought her new shoes and socks.  But she was thrilled.  Those buildings.  "Look, mom!  Look at that one!" Pointing up, up, up.  New York City.  We went to Bryant Park and rode the carousel.  We walked back to the train and went home.  "I love New York City!  But can we go home now?"

And the beach.  Nothing like a Long Island beach.  Nothing like the soft sand at Robert Moses, the empty beach devoid of houses to block views or get in the way.  She finally likes the water.  She is finally unafraid of playing in the rolling surf.  We played and frolicked and laughed and laughed.  Heaven.  So much fun.

There was something about that solo time together this week - not that we don't have a ton of time spent together, but vacation time - without any real agenda - relaxed - in no hurry -- "Take me, take me to the moonlight..." 

All treasured time.  Even if I don't write it all down.  But I'm going to try to at least write down more.

Clever Girl

It it embarrassing how long it has been.  I think about writing here and have something to write about, and then I'm just swept up in life and something new happens so quickly I forget what I wanted to say.  

And so on.

But today Cassidy revealed to me this humor and intelligence in a new way that just kind of floored me.
She called from the kitchen table where she was eating these asian noodles:
Mommy! I'm on fire!
"You're on fire?" I say.
"Yeah, I'm on fire.  Somebody quick better come save me."
"I'll save you!"  I go over to her and start fanning with my hands.
"You better get some water," she says.
I wave and spit a raspberry, spraying faint spit spray.
"No!" she says.  "Water from the pipes!"
"Well, I sort of used water.  I sprayed water from my mouth."
"NO!" she says with a little huff.
A few beats go by.
"Mommy! Please! Get me a glass of water!  I'm thirsty!"

Couldn't just say in the beginning Mommy could you please get me a glass of water?

She is such a hoot.  And not quite as easy as in the past.  Something shifted at 4 which is more independent, more self amused, more wheels churning, less affection, less tolerance for affection not on her terms, and lots of big ideas. 
"Let's make our own Candyland on a big piece of paper."
"Let's decorate our whole house for Valemtimes day." (yes.  Val-em-times day.)
"Let's take down all the Christmas decorations." (preceding decorating for Valemtimes)

Sometimes she makes me a little sad, too - Just in a way that makes me unsure how to respond.  If we draw together (which she often wants to) and she sees that my drawings are "better" than hers, she gets discouraged.  Today I counted out 45 crayons (yes it's a big tub, magic markers in there too), and 4 crayons for her and said "this is how much practice I've had drawing.  This (the 4) is how much practice you've had drawing.

Her solution?  To trade drawings and add too mine, and I take hers and add to hers.
"Mommy Cassidy artwork."

What's true is that half of what comes out of her mouth is note worthy.  Either because it's hysterical or hysterically simple but so perceptive or because it's just so perceptive.  And now we've added clever.

Cassidy, when I looked it up, is meant to mean "clever girl" in it's Irish roots.
I think she's living up to her name.