The Talking

Last fall Ruby and I started doing deliveries for an organization called Open Arms of Minnesota. It's an organization I used to work for some years ago, and it's essentially a meal delivery service for people with terminal illnesses (think Meals on Wheels, minus the old people). It began as a service for people with HIV/AIDS, but a couple years ago they expanded their mission to include others who are terminally ill. So every Thursday, after Ruby is done with preschool, we head over to Minneapolis and deliver meals to half a dozen or so folks.

Our particular route serves the southern edge of downtown Minneapolis, so all of our stops are apartment buildings. This means at each stop we have to get buzzed in to the building by calling up first. For some reason, this aspect of the delivering appeals to Ruby and she has taken to doing "the talking" part. I lift Rubes up so she can dial the number, and then when they answer she says something like this: "Michaelwe'reherewithadeliveryforyou" in the sweetest little 4-year old voice you've ever heard. All of the men we deliver to seem to find her very charming, and usually they make small talk with Ruby while I hand over the food.

Just today she added a new twist on things and made a point to tell all of these men as we were leaving, "Have a nice weekend!" I'm not sure what affect it has on their day, but it totally makes my heart sing.

[Edited to include the Open Arms website in case anyone wants to know more about Ruby's volunteer work: http://www.openarmsmn.org/ It's an amazing organization.]

In Which Everyone Helps Momlissa With Her Math.

[Momlissa is working on her grad-school homework at the dinner table.]

Momlissa [to herself]: What is an x with a line over it? What is s?

Cici: Well, x is probably pi.

Dadam: Yeah, she's probably right, it probably is pi. Just fill in pi and see what you get.

Momlissa [annoyed]: Okay.

Ruby: Yeah, x is probably pizza!

Objective Feedback.

I know I've been particularly bad at keeping up with the blog recently. I've been busier at work than I have been in years (not that I ever blog on my work time, ahem), and this semester Momlissa has two night classes a week; factor in the girls' swimming lessons and my pipe band night (and practicing) and it's easy for me to put posting on the back burner.

But since I just got back from a piping gig, and since my three girls are out at the grocery store I thought I'd take a moment and catch up a bit. We've had a request for more Cici stories, and there was a good one this week. As I mentioned, the girls are taking swim classes at the moment; they're in different levels but their classes are the same night in the same pool, one after the other. Cici goes first (and she almost literally swims rings around the other kids in her class), then Ruby.

Since Ruby is almost five now, I don't think it's really appropriate for me to take her into the men's locker room to help her shower and get dressed after her class anymore. So on Tuesday night Cici took her in the women's room. I remember trying this a couple times last year, but it never worked out too well - the attempts would usually culminate in me banging on the door and screaming "GIRLS! GET OUT HERE NOW!" or on at least one occasion asking a female passerby to go in and check on them.

But on Tuesday night it had only been a little while before both girls emerged from the locker room. Ruby was dressed, with coat and boots on, and all of her swim stuff was packed up in the tote bag. As we were getting ready to leave, a woman came out of the room with her own little girl, and she stopped me to say, "Your daughter is such a good big sister. She was so helpful in there, and gave such gentle encouragement . . . I just thought you'd like to know."

I do like to know. It's hard to imagine anything making a parent feel prouder than knowing your kids are at their best when you're not in the room to make sure they are. I couldn't have higher hopes for her in life.

Fruit Plate & More

Our girls are notoriously good eaters. I can barely keep fruit in the house for more than a few days before it's all gobbled up, and dried fruit is no exception. Some other parents we've encountered are shocked by this (even some non-parents for that matter) but it's really become old hat around here. I thought it would be fun to include a few tidbits about the eating habits of the K girls for everyone's amusement.

• The vegetable Ruby begs for at the super market? Brussels sprouts.
• The vegetable that Ruby goes to grab from the fridge for a late afternoon snack? Green onions. Raw. (She was eating these out of a baggie when I brought her with me on a recent visit to the hair salon, and people were slack-jawed at the sight of it.)
• Cecilia's latest fixation for toast? Apple-cranberry butter.
• Cecilia's most frequent after school snack request? Fruit plate. (This is where I take two separate kinds of fruit, cut it up, and arrange it beautifully on a plate. For some reason she thinks this is the height of sophistication and if I happen to offer her a plain piece of fruit she looks at me and says, "Uh, could you make this into a fruit plate please?" I've created a monster here.)
• Recently Cecilia has taken to stirring jams and jellies into plain, Greek yogurt. This is why we don't have a stash of Grandma K's homemade freezer jam anymore. It's all been stirred into so many bowls of Greek yogurt.
• Yesterday I offered Ruby a prune as I was prepping dinner. She swooned, claimed to love them, and ate about 6 more.

And while they're good eaters and healthy kids, they still love anything with sugar that they can get their hands on and will occasionally turn up their noses at certain things. Overall we are thrilled with the kind of eaters our girls are, especially considering the state of our country's health and the startling rates of childhood obesity. I'm grateful that this is one aspect of parenting that I seem to have a handle on. So far.

Pretty Pretty Princess

There are some striking similarities between me and Rubes: our sassiness, general temperament, vulgarity (the burping and farting does NOT come from the K side of the family), and the fact that we are not morning people are just a few examples. But lately I've been asking myself, "Where did this child come from?"

Lately Ruby has become interested in things that I would call "girlie." Clothes, hair, shoes, etc. And not just her own clothes, hair, etc., but going so far as to comment on my clothes, hair, etc. I should point out here that I am pretty far removed from being a girlie-girl. I am not interested in the latest fashions, trendy haircuts, or the hot colors for spring. On a good day I'm clean. On a bad day ... well, you don't want to know.

Now I have to contend with my 4-year old coming into my bedroom while I'm dressing and making comments about my clothes and offering suggestions for outfits. Seriously. If I happen to put on jeans and a sweater (as opposed to workout pants and a t-shirt) Ruby will take note and tell me, "Mom, you look nice." If I'm going to class and managed to get my hair under control and put on some make-up I get something like, "Mom, you look beautiful!" I'll take the compliments, sure, but I'm also starting to get a glimpse into the psychology behind them and I find it a little unsettling. Am I going to have a girlie-girl on my hands for the next 14 years (and beyond)?

Yesterday Ruby had me fix her ponytail and then promptly jotted over to the full-length mirror to make some adjustments. I watched her do this and after she was done fiddling around patting down her hair I heard her mutter to herself, "Perfect."

Lord help me.

[Note from Dadam: On Wednesday Ruby also made sure that my collars were tucked into my sweater, saying, "This way you'll look like an old man."]