11/03/2011
Nonna: we made Aria mad again.
Mommy: it's not hard to do.
Aria: when you do things wrong I get mad, when you do things right I'm happy.
Mommy: and who decides what's right and wrong?
Aria: I do, of course!
Showing posts with label Aria. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aria. Show all posts
Friday, November 11, 2011
You wouldn't like me when I'm angry
Saturday, August 7, 2010
My Water Baby
Aria took swimming lessons when she was six months old. Really, it was mainly to get her use to the water, and Joe or I (or both of us) were in the pool with her at all times. It was the youngest the park bureau offered lessons. I meant to keep her in lessons, but with school and scheduling and, well, life, we never got around to it. It wasn't until mom and I took her to our timeshare in Long Beach and she spent most of her time in the pool that I got to thinking she could use the lessons again.
So I checked on the parks bureau website and found an appropriate class--pre-goldfish. We decided to have it after school, and signed her up for the 6-6:30 slot. The only evening time open didn't start for a few weeks, so in the intervening time, Joe and I decided to take her to the pool several times to get her used to it. The closest swimming pool to our house (and the one where she would be taking her swimming lessons) was Mt. Scott Community Center. So we went there one evening, after buying her two new suits from Freddy's 'cause we couldn't find her old one, only to discover, once again, that my child is full of contradictions.
First of all, I want to state that there were quite a few people at the pool. And Aria can be shy--really--especially with people she doesn't know well. But it still took her perhaps 10 minutes to fully get into the shallow end (and by shallow, I mean 1 foot deep) of the pool. And even then, she didn't want to get her hair wet. Well, I can't really blame her for that. I didn't want to get my hair wet, either. That first time, she stayed away from all things which sprayed water on people, as well as (and I thought this a very smart decision on my daughter's part) most areas in which the annoying, splashing, middle school boys were hanging out.
It wasn't until we had been in there about half-an-hour that we discovered my daughter's true joy: the water slide. Appearing to loom hundreds of feet into the air to a mother who's envisioning her often tentative daughter zooming down it alone and into the depths of the ocean-like pool below, the yellow slide had actually caught her attention from the beginning. But since she didn't even want to put her face in the water, I thought it unlikely that she would be happy with plunging into the water below the slide. So here's where Daddy comes in. Up the went together, while I waited at the bottom. Giggling, they came down with her in his lap, and then, at the last minute, held aloft so that she did indeed not get her face wet. She loved it. Again. And again. I think the count the first day was eight times on Daddy's lap. The next day I think they went down eleven.
So swim class is now over. We realized after those first few visits to the pol that Aria would do well with goggles, and we got her a set of three at Costco. They helped, but she till doesn't like getting her face wet. But she loves the songs. And I learned new things, like that you can't breath in through your nose while humming. So we're taking a few weeks off while my father is visiting, but we'll try to get her in the pool to practice. The teacher says she should be in the goldfish class again until she's more comfortable putting her face in the water. And she's already excited about having lessons again. Maybe I'll even manage the slide with her next time.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
So I checked on the parks bureau website and found an appropriate class--pre-goldfish. We decided to have it after school, and signed her up for the 6-6:30 slot. The only evening time open didn't start for a few weeks, so in the intervening time, Joe and I decided to take her to the pool several times to get her used to it. The closest swimming pool to our house (and the one where she would be taking her swimming lessons) was Mt. Scott Community Center. So we went there one evening, after buying her two new suits from Freddy's 'cause we couldn't find her old one, only to discover, once again, that my child is full of contradictions.
First of all, I want to state that there were quite a few people at the pool. And Aria can be shy--really--especially with people she doesn't know well. But it still took her perhaps 10 minutes to fully get into the shallow end (and by shallow, I mean 1 foot deep) of the pool. And even then, she didn't want to get her hair wet. Well, I can't really blame her for that. I didn't want to get my hair wet, either. That first time, she stayed away from all things which sprayed water on people, as well as (and I thought this a very smart decision on my daughter's part) most areas in which the annoying, splashing, middle school boys were hanging out.
It wasn't until we had been in there about half-an-hour that we discovered my daughter's true joy: the water slide. Appearing to loom hundreds of feet into the air to a mother who's envisioning her often tentative daughter zooming down it alone and into the depths of the ocean-like pool below, the yellow slide had actually caught her attention from the beginning. But since she didn't even want to put her face in the water, I thought it unlikely that she would be happy with plunging into the water below the slide. So here's where Daddy comes in. Up the went together, while I waited at the bottom. Giggling, they came down with her in his lap, and then, at the last minute, held aloft so that she did indeed not get her face wet. She loved it. Again. And again. I think the count the first day was eight times on Daddy's lap. The next day I think they went down eleven.
So swim class is now over. We realized after those first few visits to the pol that Aria would do well with goggles, and we got her a set of three at Costco. They helped, but she till doesn't like getting her face wet. But she loves the songs. And I learned new things, like that you can't breath in through your nose while humming. So we're taking a few weeks off while my father is visiting, but we'll try to get her in the pool to practice. The teacher says she should be in the goldfish class again until she's more comfortable putting her face in the water. And she's already excited about having lessons again. Maybe I'll even manage the slide with her next time.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Just...read it. No title could appropriately encapsulate this story.
Aria goes to my in-laws house every Thursday, where she gets to spend time with her grandmother, aunt, grandfather, and two teen-aged cousins. It's awesome for her because she gets to, quite literally, be the center of the universe for between two and five people for the majority of a day. We like it because we don't have to pay for childcare on Thursdays. And I love that she's getting to spend so much time with our family who doesn't live in Portland.
I usually go pick her up after work. She never wants to leave, and my arrival is usually met with cries of, "No, mommy, go away!" At least I know she's having fun there. I'm often not able to pick her up until 8:30 or so, and am dead tired after a long day at work. But I still try to give her some time to show me anything new she's gotten, spend a little more time with her family, and play for a bit.
So a few weeks ago, she decided she wanted yogurt before we went home. Aria sat down at the little Aria-sized table they have for her, and her Mimi got her the yogurt and a spoon. Aria takes the spoon and holds it upright in front of her face.
"Hi, Spoon, I'm Face," she says, beginning a conversation with the spoon.
"Hi, Face, I'm Spoon," she continues, changing the pitch of her voice.
"I want some yogurt," she says in her Face voice.
"But I don't like yogurt," Spoon says. This goes on for about a minute more. Honestly, I didn't catch it all, I was laughing too hard. Then Aria puts the spoon in the yogurt and then in her mouth, and begins making muted screaming noises ("ahhhhhh"), apparently coming from the Spoon, who has not only been forced the have the offensive yogurt on it, but then was put into a small, dark, wet cave.
My daughter has an odd sense of humor. I think it took her grandmother and me the duration of the yogurt-eating to recover from this one.
I usually go pick her up after work. She never wants to leave, and my arrival is usually met with cries of, "No, mommy, go away!" At least I know she's having fun there. I'm often not able to pick her up until 8:30 or so, and am dead tired after a long day at work. But I still try to give her some time to show me anything new she's gotten, spend a little more time with her family, and play for a bit.
So a few weeks ago, she decided she wanted yogurt before we went home. Aria sat down at the little Aria-sized table they have for her, and her Mimi got her the yogurt and a spoon. Aria takes the spoon and holds it upright in front of her face.
"Hi, Spoon, I'm Face," she says, beginning a conversation with the spoon.
"Hi, Face, I'm Spoon," she continues, changing the pitch of her voice.
"I want some yogurt," she says in her Face voice.
"But I don't like yogurt," Spoon says. This goes on for about a minute more. Honestly, I didn't catch it all, I was laughing too hard. Then Aria puts the spoon in the yogurt and then in her mouth, and begins making muted screaming noises ("ahhhhhh"), apparently coming from the Spoon, who has not only been forced the have the offensive yogurt on it, but then was put into a small, dark, wet cave.
My daughter has an odd sense of humor. I think it took her grandmother and me the duration of the yogurt-eating to recover from this one.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
My little (big) force of Nature
Aria is...well, Aria. I wouldn't change a thing about her, but she is challenging. And full of energy. We like to kiddingly (mostly) say that she has the personality of three children. Or as her father puts it, she's three pounds of personality in a one pound bag. And she's the most awesome thing. Ever. Hands-down. The best thing I will ever do. At a party the other night, I was telling an Aria story and a woman told me I should write them down, for both her and me. So I got to thinking, why just for her and me? Her father, grandmother, and I all live with her, so we do get to enjoy these moments everyday. But what about her other grandparents, aunt, and cousins? They only live about a half-hour from us, and have her one day a week, so they do get to experience her specialness regularly, but I'm sure there are stories we forget to tell them. And what about all the other people who love her? My father lives in New Jersey, and has only gotten to see her twice. And we have so many friends who adore her. So this is for everyone who loves Aria, or likes cute kid stories. Or just needs a break in the day to occasionally say "thank God it's not me." 'Cause those stories are inevitable, too. And the grass is always funnier when it's not your own.
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