Monday, July 28, 2008

fresh squeezed eleanor




Eleanor is 17 months old now. She is amazing. She is the loudest person I have ever met. She can scream so loud and so high it will silence a whole room of talking, do damage to our ears, make you think there is a screecher firework or a fan belt going off in your skull. We named her after a song with a lyric that says "You are the brightest gem you are the loudest yell." I always thought it was metaphorical, then she emerged.

Eleanor is fast. She can climb anything. Lift things most babies wouldn't attempt. We keep all the kitchen cupboards rubber banded together and if we accidentally leave one undone it will only be a matter of minutes (sometimes seconds) and she's there to open it and pillage what she can. We have to double bar our stairs with a gate inside a gate, as she can scale or go under a single one.

Eleanor likes to pretend she is going on trips with bags. She yells "BA!" (bye!) and will blow you kisses when she leaves the room. She pretends to have naps and does a hilarious pretend sleeping face, very serious. She says Mummy, Daddy, Cracker, baby, teddy, Matt, "Uh OH!" and adds more every day. Speaking of cheese. she will hold up a toy phone, point it at you and say "Cheese!" because phones take pictures now, didn't you know? She loves to talk on the phone. She just now took my phone and pretended to call Dora the Explorer ("Huh-oo? Da-doo?" then "Miaow!" and made the sign for Kitty, because Baby Jaguar was there too.) On Saturday she was holding a domino like a phone and was taking a call.

She really loves our friends Stu and Jacqui (who got engaged at our house last month) and likes to call their names, but was really confused when I got her to put on a jacket yesterday and was saying "Jacqui?" and I said "Jacket." and she said "Jacqui. Stu. Stu. Jacqui." but didn't seem to equate why they weren't there or why she had to wear her rain jacket.

As an aside, I love her rain jacket. I got it at superstore, the Joe Fresh line. I recently inquired with them as to their human rights practices and I was thrilled to get an answer that said:
"Our Joe Fresh Clothing is made in state-of-the-art factories around the world which are all ISO certified. We respect all local laws and ensure that factories are socially compliant. We have a zero-tolerance policy for child labor and forced labor and hold the highest standards for health and safety, and environmental compliance. We also employ third party firms to audit manufacturing facilities to ensure compliance."
How sweet is that? At least as sweet as this organic juicy peach we traded some soap for at the Farmer's Market.


That's some fresh squeezed sweet life right there.

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

wisdom

Greetings Friends

Apologies for the long silence. Did a 40 day Facebook fast in June and it inadvertently spilled over into blogland. We are well.

Have a Soph story to share with you.

A dear friend of ours has been diagnosed with cancer. (I 'm choosing not to say who because 1) this friend is tired of telling people the news and seeing what we've come to call "cancer face", and 2) this really is a story about Soph.)

We were on our way to see this friend today and I realized that Sophia (our sponge) had probably absorbed a bit about what was going on already from our conversations in the house. I explained that our friend was sick.

Soph: "Maybe if ______ is sick, when we see her, we shouldn't kiss her."
Me: "Oh no, sweetie. You can't actually catch cancer from someone. In fact, one of the best ways you can make cancer better is if you give someone a lot of kisses."

So when we arrived Sophia enthusiastically kissed and kissed and kissed our friend and small cells of poison ran shrieking for their lives.

We picked some raspberries in the sun and sat later eating our raspberries and cream, thinking Soph was oblivious to it all, when my friend began to outline her options for dealing with her business in the coming months.

"As I see it, I have 3 options. I could try and do everything myself. I could try and do none of it. Or I could ask for help." I had no time to respond. Sophia, confidently and breezily, on the end of a mouth of raspberries and cream, said "Oh, ask for help." We looked at each other, surprised she had even been tracking with the conversation. Our eyes started to glisten with tears as she continued without a pause. "Whenever I have a job that is too much for me to do, I ask for help. When my room is too messy and I can't do it all myself, I ask my Mum to help me. That's why my Mum just changed all my room around, so I could clean it better."

She was so confident, and assured that that was clearly the right thing to do. My friend told Sophia how wise she was. "That's what your name means", I told her, "Sophia is the greek word for wisdom." It felt like such a holy moment. The decision was really made by her words and strength of faith.

Nori was doing her part all along, of course, with her mad grins and ball chasing and stair climbing and raspberry eating and slobberiness and general joie-baby mayhem.

When we departed no one needed to remind Soph that kisses cure cancer. Kissed and kissed and kissed again. We are indeed rich.