The Girl Spider Died And Isn't Here Anymore

In our home, we have photos of our grandparents who are no longer with us. On occasion, we have shown Julia these pictures so she understands that her nana, baba and gong gong also had moms and dads. We've tried to casually explain that they died and are not here with us anymore and she hasn't asked any further questions.

At school, with the kids who are already into superheroes, I think Julia has further picked up the words of kill and die and death. Not sure what she thinks it all means though.

When our fish died recently, I thought she might be ready to hear that it died. But when I told her, she asked me if it jumped out of its bowl and ran away. So I made the instant decision to back away from truth and replied yes, it went to visit its cousins.

During our recent vacation in Aruba, when Wayne or I would push the buttons on the safe and it would beep, she would yell at us, "If you push the buttons, you will die!"

A few days ago, Wayne and I looked at old photos with his parents while Julia was in the other room watching Little Einsteins. Occasionally we would show her a picture of Bertha's or Ed's parents and Bertha and Ed as children. We did not put it in any context of death or absence, but as we were getting ready to leave, she started singing a made up, repetitious song, "I don't know why you died, I don't know why you died."

Later that night, she drew a picture of a spider with 30-some legs and said, "This is a girl spider who died and isn't here anymore. Do you remember her? I miss her. . . . "

I responded, "But she had a happy life with friends and family. And they will always remember her." Some point later in the conversation, I mentioned that everyone dies.

Julia, with bright eyes and a wide smile, "But I'm not going to die."

Me: Oh really? (awkward parenting moment). Yes, you are going to live a very long happy life.

Julia: Baba's mom died and isn't here anymore.

Me: We're lucky she took care of Baba when he was a little boy. Baba is so happy his mommy loved him and Uncle Frankie and Aunt Rose.

* * *

Julia: Nana and Baba are not going to die. I need them to play with me.

Nana and Baba are active and healthy (thank goodness), but tears fill my eyes and I'm not sure if it's just me or pregnancy hormones. I can't say anything. I just smile and hug her.

I think I'll delay our plan to start celebrating the Chinese New Year tradition of paying homage to one's ancestors with a "mini-shrine" of pictures, food and incense. I'm not prepared for the sudden increase in the degree of difficulty of Julia's questions.

Snow Day

Snow is a lot of work . . . for Wayne. I don't do much shoveling, especially these days. But snow is a lot of fun too. Julia gets to enjoy snow angels, sledding/tubing, snowman building and snowflake eating - stuff I never got to do as a kid. In college, when passing playgrounds in the winter, I remember thinking that it is so much easier growing up in CA, never having to bundle up to go outside and play. That remains true, but there are perks to growing up in the northeast.

We went into a local knick knack store with Christmas Village houses, figurines, etc. There was one depicting the making of snow angels and Julia was intrigued. It's the first thing she wanted to do when it snowed.



We were unprepared when the snow fell - without a sled or waterproof mittens for Julia. We went to Sports Authority to get a sled, but they only had snow tubes. So Wayne went to Target in the same mall area and when he went back to Sports Authority because there were no sleds at Target either, he estimated that 10 or 15 tubes had been purchased in the 20 minutes he was gone. We weren't the only ones desperate to have fun with the snow.

Some kids had created a gigantic snow-leaf ball rolling it down a hill. Wayne and Julia put in a couple of pushes to contribute to the local snowball effot.

Reindeer Games

Different ways to play the game "Santa."

1. Carry around any type of bag with any type of object and distribute.
2. Order parents to sit on your lap and tell you what they want. Remind them that they can only ask for one present.
3. Instruct parents to fall asleep on couch. Place "present" before them or under the tree. Runaway giggling. When parents exclaim wonder about presents, come back and announce yourself. Ask them if they like their presents. Give them a hug and kiss and say that you must go.
4. Repeat #3, but this time, come back and correct their mistaken impression that Santa had come. It was Mrs. Claus and Mrs. Claus would not only like milk and cookies, but also hamburger. Cookies, milk and hamburger.
5. Instruct parent to behave badly. Scold them and tell them that they won't get a present. When they promise they will be good from now on, say that you might still give them a present, but they must be good.
6. No rules. Add your own variation of a Santa game.

Her Own Dentist

For a brief period of time (two months?), I could not get enough of "Jon & Kate +8," the reality show about a couple who had twins and septuplets. Wayne complained that every episode was the same, "It's always about how difficult it is to raise 8 kids." True, it was about how difficult it is to take 8 kids to (1) an amusement park, (2) a furniture store to buy bunk beds, (3) the dentist, etc . . .. Our friend, Ythan, joined in on the "Jon & Kate +8" bashing. "Why would I want to watch a show about taking kids to the dentist?" It's a logical question, but I enjoyed watching the episode anyway.
What is exciting as a parent is not anything objectively exciting. "First" anythings tend to bring about some kind of emotion in me. Julia's first trip to the dentist made me feel proud ("What a big girl" "She's handling it so well") and sentimental ("What a big girl, I remember when her first teeth were just coming in.") Julia has been to the dentist with both me and Wayne. She's sat on my lap while I got my teeth cleaned (left her home for the route canal). After coming back from our dentist, she'd mention that she wanted to go to her own "little dentist." She's pretty serious about the whole thing, like it's a privilege or rite of passage (not exactly sure what's going on in her head). Anyway, it was a good first trip to the dentist. No crying. Healthy teeth, but instruction from her dentist that fruit snacks are worse for kids' teeth than most candies. Oops, we have since listened to the dentist and cut back dramatically from her one to two pack a day habit.

A Boy

We are expecting a little boy next March. Both Wayne and I did not feel a preference for boy or girl, but Julia was quite clear that she wanted the baby to be a girl. In fact, the only regret I felt at hearing the news was that Julia would not get her sister. And I guess a silly sentimental regret that I won't get the chance to re-use some of my favorite wardrobe of hers.

Despite Julia's protest, "But I wanted a sister!" she's very excited about having "our" baby. In the first month after we told her, Julia stated that her baby doll used to be in her tummy and now is a big girl. And now, Julia supposedly has another baby in her tummy just like me. We hope she will keep to her word about wanting to read and sing to the baby and to help hold and feed him. We're realistic though, especially in light of accounts from friends who have recently had their second that the first has asked to "bring the baby back" or be left at home during the next "family" visit to grandma's. We're pretty sure she's going to be a great big sister, even though it might mean dressing him up in girl clothes and being too motherly (a la Ruby, from Max and Ruby, if you watch Nickelodan) from time to time. As for us, we only figure we'll be able to survive having two little ones because other people do it. We're surely as competent as others, aren't we? In any case, it's the same reasoning we had when we had Julia and I think that for the most part, it held true. The excitement, love and fun will be worth the noise, worry and effort. That's our leap of faith.

Suburban Farming

From Wayne's efforts this past year, we have enjoyed strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, tomatoes, cucumbers, corn and carrots. The cherries are courtesy of a thirty-foot high cherry tree in our backyard.


The corn, which Wayne did not cultivate with any effort aside from planting seeds, was . . . interesting. Aside from the funny look, it tasted bean-y. If you crossed a lima bean and corn, this is probably what you would get. So if you wanted corn, you would not like Wayne's corn, but if you wanted bean-corn, this is the stuff.

When Wayne pulled up a carrot in August, it was about 2 inches long. Last week, he got better results. Julia ate them all.

She Wants Her Binky

Julia has been a binky baby. Sometime around 18 months, they no longer allowed binkies at school and Wayne and I followed their lead to banish the binky except for nap and bedtime. It was a rough couple of days and what I imagine to be akin to drug withdrawal (at the baby level). If you've never been close to someone with a binky addiction, you might not realize how serious it is. When Julia was still breastfeeding, she sometimes would stop, take a drag from her binky and then go back to feeding.

We've lived in harmony with the binky-only-in-bedroom arrangement for the past year and a half, but we'd been planning for the time to say good-bye to the binky forever. I'd read about strategies for getting kids to give up certain habits and settled on the binky fairy. The idea is that the "big girl" (or big boy) gives her binky to the binky fairy who will redistribute it to the babies of the world who truly need it. In exchange, the big kid gets a present and the good feeling of having been charitable. We've been telling her for the past few months that she would undergo this rite of passage when she turned 3.

At first, she thought that was fine, so long as the binky fairy would give the binkies back. When she understood that that was not the plan, she'd sometimes cry if we brought it up. Then she seemed to accept the idea and take comfort in the fact that she wouldn't turn 3 in awhile.

Julia just turned 3 this past Saturday. For the last several weeks, she's been more attached to the pacifier, sometimes excusing herself in the middle of the day to go up to her room and sit with one or even two binkies in mouth. If she could have articulated it, she would have said, "I don't have much time with them left. I just want to make every moment count." The day after her birthday, she just wanted to be with her binkies and seemed curious about why she still had them now that she was three. Before going out to a store, she said she wanted to give her binkies to the binky fairy. I felt unsure, but Julia was right, we needed to get over the dread. So we hung the binkies on our little dogwood and when we got back home, the binky fairy (one named Wayne) had left a bracelet/watch made of wooden beads and a rather wordy letter about how proud the binky fairy was of Julia, in their place. In good humor that lasted only for several minutes, Julia put the bracelet in her mouth.

Then she experienced buyer's remorse. This was hard for us too. As much as we want her to have good teeth and as much as we want her to be able to soothe herself without any props, it's not fun to take something away from your little girl that gives her so much comfort. And I was sentimental about saying good-bye to the binky and the little girl that needed them.

That night and the next were difficult. Whining about wanting her binky. Asking for a lollipop at bedtime. Crying and not going to sleep. The second night, I told her the binky fairy was in China and couldn't come back with her binkies, but we could sing about the binky. I sang the song that I used to sing in the morning to remind her to put the binky away before coming downstairs. To the tune of the restaurant Chili's advertisement for baby back ribs, it went, "Please put your binky back, binky back, binky back, please put your binky back, binky back binky back. Biiinnkkyy, oh binky back." She was amused, but then told me to stop singing that song. She requested that I sing a never-before heard song, "She Wants Her Binky."

It was two nights of pain, but she seems okay now. Older, wiser, 3.