July 19, 2008

Dear Sarah,

Where do we even begin? This last month has been such a whirlwind of chaos, stress, hospitals, emergency rooms, more chaos . . . So much of it isn't about you but it affects you, it rocks your little world and sends your compass off balance. And yet, you get up every morning and smile. You laugh at the cats. You are teaching yourself how to walk. You eat blueberries with unparalleled fervor. And most selfishly, you make us smile a little more. You make us breath a little more slowly. You take us away from ourselves and remind us of the wonders of a little leaf, a bowl full of water, a splotch of dripped paint. You are remarkable in your resiliency, beautiful in your simplicity and the capable captain of this little boat that we call our family.

We have been to six hospitals this month. One for you and five for me. We planned an extensive junket to the west coast in June and we bit off more than we could chew. We did see Auntie Lizzie become a doctor which was special although you were unimpressed. Then you got sick. Much vomiting ensued and we found ourselves in the Reading, CA emergency room in the middle of the night. You were given an IV and the process of them putting it in your arm was perhaps the most viscerally painful and upsetting experience of my life. Your recovery was slow, likely owing to the continued travel and lack of routine. You had a lovely visit with your Grammy and Grampy in Gresham and saw many relatives at your birthday party. You played the piano, reunited with Bentley and got your first pair of big girl shoes at the mall. Then you spent some more days with Grandma and Granddad in Eugene and at at the cabin. You loved the cabin with its smooth logs, outside dirt, paths and peace and quiet. Our visit was cut short when I needed to see a real doctor and we had to return to Eugene. We flew down to California several days later for a wedding and then we finally came home.

When we got home, I got appendicitis and ended up in the hospital. Other than the pain, the surgery, the drugs and did I mention the PAIN?!?, missing you was the worst part of being cooped up in that place. You had incredible care from Uncle Chris and Aunt Jill and then from Grandma and Grandpa Zawilski but I missed you terribly. The weeks after have been a blur and we have been so fortunate to have two of your grandmas out here to help full time.

In happier news, you are really starting to walk this month. All by yourself. And you actually make progress in random directions. This gives you pleasure to no end and your screams of delight ring in our ears (and Sophie's) long after your forays are complete. You have trained Grandma to take you out to the slide and the swing in the yard on a daily - if not twice daily - basis. You check to make sure that they are still there when you wake up from your nap and you speak to them in tongues. Communing with play equipment is just one of your many special talents. On the word front you can now say "ball" and "bear" - sort of. Balls have a very special place in your heart and you point them out to us where ever we go. You gave the little old man stocking produce at the grocery store rather a scare the other day when you shouted out to him, "BALL!!!!!!" I tried to explain to him that onions kind of look like balls and so um, well, yes, you love balls, and well, you think that those onions that he is stacking look like balls and that is why you are so excited. I fear that he was too busy picking up the mounds of onions that had toppled over in his fright and didn't really hear us.

Your self feeding is improving and you are using a spoon more effectively to shovel things into your little mouth. You like frozen legumes of many sorts and you have a special fondness for blueberries. You also like scrambled eggs and fish crackers. You have also mastered the art of drinking from a sippy cup and can even do this while taking a few tentative steps. You have the nasty habit that when you are ready to be given something else and you are enraged by the unacceptability of all items currently on your tray, you hurl the offending items across the room. You have always been a tosser of food, a feeder of food to the dog, but you are now unequivocally a hurler of food. It can be rather unpleasant.

As I get rounder and more sedentary, the reality of what is going to happen in this little house in the next couple of months is starting to set in. Most importantly, the reality of what it will mean for you. We have hired a nanny to start working with us full time in the next couple of weeks so that you can have some degree of continuity throughout what might be a chaotic fall. She seems very nice and I am hopeful that you will like her as well. I am also looking into nursery school programs for you a couple of mornings a week. Hopefully we will find something for you to start in September. So far we have been so lucky that we haven't been put in a position where you have to be in day care some place else. I want to have you close to me at home and it looks as though that is going to work out. In preparation for the babies' arrival, you have begun to care for your baby doll with great gentleness and kindness. Expect when you would like her to dance. Evidently baby dolls like to dance with their heads banging on the floor. This is something that we will have to work on.

Your daddy and I are so grateful that you are here to captain this rickety vessel called our family. We have sprung a few leaks this month, but we have also learned how many wonderful people there are out there to help us plug them. We are expecting a few new passengers to come aboard this fall, but we know that we will be able to find them safe and comfortable seats. It is amazing to us how you help us to navigate these choppy waters, you are our captain and our compass and we will love you more days than there are drops of water in the sea.

Love,
Mama