Personality

Last night I was watching Azita play, babbling as she stacked her blocks, ran around the living room, and climbed on the furniture. She looked up at me studying on the couch and decided she wanted to join me with a book of her own.

Soon we were both sitting there reading together, and she talked the entire time, pointing to things in the book, asking me questions. I didn’t really understand everything she was saying, but there was cadence and inflection in her voice. She was clearly communicating. I asked her about things in the book and she pointed to them, adding commentary of her own. Occasionally, she would say something and laugh hysterically at what she said.

At that moment I realized that Azita has a personality. I mean, I know she has personality. That has always been obvious. But she has an actual personality now, as in, she is a person. Who is separate from me. With her own thoughts.

Somewhere along the way she stopped being a baby. When she was a baby we were so attached. Literally. She spent most of her time on my chest wrapped snugly in a sling.  It seemed as if she was still a part of me, like she had never left my womb.

Now she is a little girl who knows what she wants, what she likes, what she doesn’t like. She makes her opinion known, and not by crying or screaming, but by talking. I can’t remember the last time she slept on my chest.

I’m a little bit heartbroken, but proud at the same time. When I see her do and say amazing things, things I had no idea she could do or say, I can’t help but beam with pride, even as my eyes well up with tears. From the moment our babies are born, they start leaving us. I knew this, but I didn’t really know this I guess.

Before I know it she will be gone, but last night she reminded me that she is here for now, even if she is her own person. After she read her book, she climbed onto my lap, clasped the sides of my head in her hand, and mushed her face into mine. We looked into each others eyes and giggled as she slobbered on my cheek as she did when she was a baby.

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zahra, October 6th 2010 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood

Cousins

There’s nothing better than having cousins. Azita met some cousins for the first time last week. She immediately loved them. It was like she knew they were related, because while she loves all kids, I’ve never seen her open up to people so instantly.

At the Udvar Hazy Air & Space Museum

At the Udvar Hazy Air & Space Museum

I love how happy they are. So filled with unadulterated glee. The look on their faces, running through a museum, captures so exactly how I remember playing with my cousins in my childhood. Except with a little less wrestling. And no He-Man and Voltron.

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zahra, August 4th 2010 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Family + Friends, Parenthood + Childhood

At Least I’m Not Foaming At the Mouth

Last night I woke up in need of a biology break, but also because there was something I really wanted to blog about. I meant to write it down, but I was too lazy to get up and find paper and pen and I’ve never gotten around to leaving paper and pen on my night stand for this sort of situation. This, even though I realized I should do this about 16 years ago when I was in college and frequently woke up needing to write something down. That’s how lazy I am. 16 years later, and I STILL haven’t taken care of this little task. Also, I opted to just sleep with an increasingly uncomfortably full bladder, because well, I didn’t feel like getting out of bed nor walking to the bathroom. I think I’m the laziest person in the world.

So anyways, all day I’ve been trying to remember what is was I wanted to write about, and I still can’t remember. But then I was looking through some old pictures in an attempt to jog my memory, and something got jogged. I still can’t remember what I wanted to write about, but I have been stricken with a major case of nostalgia.

When I look at Azita running across our living room in a little onesie or curled up next to me in bed, she looks so teeny tiny. It’s hard for me to remember just how much tinier she was when she was born. She was this tiny….

Azita: Day 1

Azita: Day 1

Notice that her head is almost smaller than my hand. I just can’t fathom this now, because well, her head is a lot bigger than my hand now.

And her head was also mostly bald.

Bald baby in French fashion

Bald baby in French fashion

This is another thing that is completely incomprehensible to me, because she now shows all signs of having inherited both her maman and baba’s thick heads of hair. And look at those eyes. She’s killing me with those eyes. I think when I was taking this picture it was the first time I realized that she wasn’t just looking in my direction, but she was really seeing me and almost communicating with her eyes. They were so expressive, and it was unbelievable to think that just a few weeks before that she basically slept all the time. It makes me tear up a little to think of it. To think of how sweet little babies are and how quickly they grow up.

And that’s the thing, you know. They do grow up. And they become toddlers who refuse to go to bed and refuse to eat. And on nights like tonight when she’s done both and I have a good 3 hours or more of work to do. And she won’t stop climbing on me and REFUSING to go to sleep even though she is clearly exhausted to the point of tears. On nights like this, it is good to feel a little nostalgic and to remember that even when she’s causing great pains in my arse she is always my sweet little slip of a thing. My little baby.

Where was I again? Oh yeah. I need to put some pen and paper on my nightstand. And also, Azita is now slapping my face while yelling “Mama.” I have no words.

And I know that was completely incoherent, but at least I’m not foaming at the mouth. So clearly I don’t have rabies. In case you were wondering.

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zahra, August 3rd 2010 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood

The Stolen Cupcake Caper

Yesterday, a kid stole Azita’s cupcake. I don’t mean that as a euphemism. Here’s how it went down.

It was a bright sunny day, and the kids were all playing outside when I pulled up to daycare to pick up my baby. “We’re having a party. We’re having a party,” shouted the older kids as they ran toward the front door to let themselves back in. After giving me a smile and a hug, Azita followed them in and ran to her seat at the table. It was clear she wasn’t leaving without a fight. I know I would put up a good fight if someone tried to drag me away from promised cupcakes. So, we stayed — Azita sitting on her little stool at the kid’s table, with me kneeling next to her on the floor.

She was so patient, waiting until all the other kids got their cupcake –some even two — before she got hers. And when she was handed her cupcake she savored it. She ate so slowly, licking the frosting and eating little nibbles of the cake while the other kids wolfed theirs down. I admit I was a little proud of how patient she was and how she ate like a civilized little grown-up. So many of us, me included, never take the time to slow down and actually enjoy our food and really taste it (more on that coming later this week). She did this naturally though, and was still working on the frosting when the other kids had finished the rest of the cupcakes.

Then it happened. Azita set down her cupcake for a sip of water. The other kids gasped, and then the fateful words were uttered. “Azita put down her cupcake! Quick! Give it to Vinny!” And within seconds the cupcake was making its way through Vinny’s digestive tract. It happened so fast that she almost didn’t know what happened. But when she looked around for her cupcake, and it wasn’t there she let out the most mournful wail. And that wail continued as we walked to the car. It continued as I buckled her in her car seat. It continued down the street and all the way home. And then to the grocery store where I just had to go to buy her a replacement cupcake.

It was heartbreaking. Even more so because I just sat there while a kid stole my kid’s cupcake. And I even said, “that’s ok” when one of the daycare providers noticed. I mean, it’s not okay, but what could I do? Every kid needs to learn sometime that bad things happen and not everyone is always nice, but did she really need to learn that at the far-from-ripe age of 16 months?

I’m still not sure what I should have done, but I guess I have time to figure it out. I’m pretty sure Azita won’t remember what I now call the “the stolen cupcake caper.” Actually, I know she won’t since she was smiling and cooing over the little slice of cake I placed in front of her not 30 minutes later. But one day she will remember. One day she’ll have to deal with mean girls and playground bullies who will do far worse than steal a cupcake. What will I do then? I honestly have no idea, and any advice is welcome. I don’t think I can figure this out on my own.

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zahra, May 21st 2010 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood

Fast-Forwarding Through Life

Maybe it’s because we’ve been housebound with Azita this week, but it seems that Azita is growing extraordinarily fast these past few days. Not physically — her 12 month clothes are still baggy and drooping. She’s growing in other ways, seeming more…more human, for lack of a better word.

Earlier in the week I noticed she was saying “thank you” whenever I would give her something she wanted. Later on that same day, she figured out how to climb up on the couch. There’s something so grown-up about your baby climbing up onto the couch to sit next to you.

The day after that, she started cleaning. Sort of. It’s not like she really got anything spotless, but she did grab her baby blanket and wipe down a tray and then scrubbed the floor. I’m think I’m going to make lemon sorbet out of this lemonade and teach her how to wash dishes.

Then yesterday, she stopped playing, got up, walked across the room, and grabbed her diaper caddy. And then, she did something I never thought she’s do. The girl who has been fighting diaper changes since she was just a few weeks old brought her caddy over to her dad, set it down on the floor next to him, and lay down on the floor next to the caddy. It was kind of unbelievable. I’m still shocked about it actually.

But it gets better. Today Roger noticed that Azita will bring you something if you ask her. Since then we’ve asked her to bring us just about everything in the family room — her trucks, her books, a ball, her blocks, pillows, magazines…There’s a pile of stuff at our feet while Azita lays across my lap asleep in my arms.

As I sit here I wonder what she will do tomorrow and the next day. Will the weekend end with her getting herself dressed in the morning or buckling herself into her car seat?

It seems like Azita is suddenly fast-forwarding through life. I’m just grateful that I’ve had this week, however hectic it has been, to catch a little of it.

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zahra, February 11th 2010 | Tags: ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood

Stop Touching Me!

I can still vividly remember my childhood spats with my sisters. As is the case with many siblings, our worst fights were in the car. I especially had some issues with personal space. My sister still laughs at my nearly constant stream of “Stop touching me”, “Mom, she’s touching me.”, “Get away”, and repeat. Mostly she laughs because it turns out her eldest son has inherited my fierce protection of the invisible bubble that marks my personal territory.  I still don’t like it when people get closer than a couple feet from me — not if I know them (i.e., I’m not talking about all the family and friends who are reading this). I can’t help it. A need for space is ingrained in the very fiber of my being.

I know it used to annoy my mother. She probably still breaks into a cold sweat when she gets in her car. But this is just how kids are. I see my nephews and niece acting out in the same way whenever I ride in the same car with them. Kids are just not as good at handling conflicts with each other. They haven’t learned the ropes yet. (Who am I kidding? Adults really aren’t much better, are they?)

One of the few bright points to Azita being in daycare is that she is every day thrown into an environment with a bunch of kids, and she is therefore forced to start learning how to resolve conflicts with her peers. She’s clearly not there yet, since I hear daily reports of face slapping, hair pulling, shoving, and so on — not just by Azita, but also directed at her. I figure she’ll gradually get better as her verbal skills develop and she learns how to deal with situations using words.  But I know that kids will be kids, and anytime she’s in a room with another child she is likely to have a spat.

Every once in a while, though, she surprises me with a demonstration of love and kindness.

Azita and her cousin, Ali

Azita and her cousin, Ali

And the feeling I get from these moments could sustain me for days.

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zahra, January 12th 2010 | Tags: , , , , ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood

Baby Yogi

Sometimes it seems like Azita is doing yoga.

Exhibit A: Going into Crescent Pose

Crescent Pose

Crescent Pose

Exhibit B: Downward Facing Dog


Downward Facing Dog

Downward Facing Dog

Exhibit C: Wide Yoga Squat

Wide Yoga Squat

Wide Yoga Squat

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zahra, December 20th 2009 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood, Short + Sweet

All Grown Up

Azita is growing up way too fast these past few weeks. It seems like the first half of her first year moved in slow motion, and I liked it just fine that way. She was so tiny and so fragile and still so much a part of me. When she curled up on my chest to sleep the lines between us blurred, and we melded into a single person. My cousin recently announced his shock that she was a person. Not that she wasn’t a person before. But now she had a personality. She was more real.

I know what he means.

Two seconds ago, she was still very much an extension of me, and then she started walking.

AzitaWalking

Then she is drinking from a big girl cup…

AzitaSippyCup

and refusing to let me feed her. She not only wants to feed herself, but she wants to use a fork to do so, just like the big kids.

What’s next? Cutting her own food up into little pieces with a knife? Cooking dinner for the family? Running? Pole vaulting? Pumping iron?

Pumping Iron

Pumping Iron

I can feel her flying the coop already, and I can hardly stand it. Then night comes along and she snuggles tightly against me as she falls asleep. And there’s something about the feeling of her warm, milk-scented breath on my face that assures me that she will be a part of me forever.

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zahra, December 16th 2009 | Tags: , , , ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood

I Wish I Was…

When I was a kid I used to play this little “game” with myself where I’d invent the person I wish I was. It went something like this. I’d decide I wished I was the most popular girl in my class. But then I realized that I liked my hair better than hers, so I’d want to be her but with my hair. Oh, and as long as I’m fixing things I may as well want Brooke Shields’ face. And Einstein’s genius, and the ice skating talent of Dorothy Hamill and the singing voice of Eartha Kitt and…you get the idea. Actually, as long as I’m confessing this silly game, I’ll confess that I didn’t just do this when I was a kid. I’ve wished to be a pastiche of people basically my whole life. Things seemed to have changed since Azita was born though. I’m pretty happy being myself. I still wish for different life circumstances at times, but I basically like who I am at the moment. It only took me 36 years. Maybe by the time I’m 40 I’ll be really happy with me.

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zahra, December 14th 2009 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Short + Sweet, Uncategorizable Ramblings