Snow Princess is in town

Merry Christmas 2012

Short & Sassy

My mother loved to ice skate. She grew up with seven brothers and owned only hockey skates until adulthood. She didn't do fancy spins or jumps, but skated with strength, speed, and ease, until the age of 60 when she went on the ice for the first time with a brand new pair of skates my father gave her as a Christmas present.  He apparently couldn't bear the sight any longer of the 40-year old ones she loved that were held together with duct tape. On her first outing breaking them in, those sharp blades and stiff leather did her in, she fell, broke her arm, and never skated again. 

When we were toddlers, she taught each of us to skate in double blades on Schoolhouse Pond, standing behind us as we held onto and pushed small but heavy metal chairs across the ice. Before that, she bundled her babies up and put us in a wooden sled with metal runners, the kind I only see now in the antique shops downtown.  They fetch a good price.  She'd pull us swiftly across the pond, subtly giving us the clear message that being on ice in the cold, fresh air was a good thing.  Nothing pleased my mother, a proud December-born baby and mother of four more winter babes, more than the redness of cheeks that came from being outdoors. Her French-Canadian blood was thick and, while she never stated it aloud, I believe  that winter was her favorite season.

On snow days when "no school" was announced, my brothers would race to King's Pond, skates thrown over their back, for a pickup hockey game. I followed along, skating on the outskirts and exploring the edge of the pond, testing how thin or thick the ice was in spots, listening, watching for the sounds and sights of the little cracks, often followed by bubbles of water underneath. Later I took a few lessons at the rink at Pomfret Prep, a local private high school. I knew of Peggy Fleming, adored Dorothy Hamill, and reacted with horror later in life when Tonya Harding whacked Nancy Kerrigan in the leg? (or maybe she paid someone to do it, my memory fails me). 

My last time on ice was in my late 20's, after a few year hiatus, and I can remember the feeling of my weak, sore ankles to this day.  I don't think figure skating is like bike riding, in that it just "comes right back to you."  Beatrice has seen skating on TV, because I still love to watch this crazy sport, and she desperately wants to go skating. After all, it's ballet at it's core, and the fancy dresses and pretty hairdos command her attention. She "skates" around the house in socks and our TV room rug is her "rink," which more often comes out as "wink." She wants me on the ice, and I mean real ice. She saw my pair of skates, covered in dust yet still pristine white, hanging on a rusty nail in our basement.  I am terrified. She asked last winter, but I put her off.  When is the precise moment when all of a sudden one thinks about and dreads falling?  For me, it came a few years ago.  I can usually rely on my younger husband for moments like this, but he's skated on ice only twice in his life.  Skateboarding was his thing, and he snowboarded a bit. My feet have run a few thousand miles, carrying a body that was never a runner's body, and they suffer on a daily basis.  There's almost no way they will get me skating again.  But my daughter wants to skate. Looks like this is the winter I may have to enter a rink somewhere (the unevenness of natural water with its twiggy bumps?  No way.) I'll try to find some double runners, and will bring along a little metal chair for balance and security.  And Beatrice might need something too.

All of her favorite things, dreams, and wishes come out in her artwork.  Above is a "'mazin' skater, and below is "a 'mazin' skater teaching a kid who doesn't know how to skate." My little Picasso.

While pondering our advent calendar:

"Jesus was not born from Mary's belly, I think he was adopted."  "Why?" I asked.  "Because, Mama, look at him... he is big!" (true, he looks like a 2-year old in this version) "And there is hay and babies cannot be born on hay, only cows, so I know he is adopted.  That is the real story."

Ballerina on Picnic Table

It's not been an easy couple of months.

                                      My brother had to have his right leg amputated,

                                  Anthony's beautiful 22-year old cousin was murdered,

                                       Beatrice has been in, let's just say a "rough phase,"

 in which she's emotional, clingy, demanding, trying, and at times overcome with anxiety.

 Work has been especially stressful. Our dog is on Prozac because she apparently feels that our heating system is haunted, causing her to pant, paw at us, hide, and interrupt our sleep. And then yesterday, the events of Newtown, CT (which is nearly 2 hours away from us) unfolded.  I'm still in shock.  It's a parent's nightmare.  An educator's nightmare.  A mental health professional's nightmare.  I fit all three of those categories.  It's almost more than I can bear.

So this morning I took a few minutes in the sunshine to admire the blue sky to watch a spontaneous ballet performance on my picnic table.

It was quite an afternoon around here.....

I broke the cardinal rule of my childhood, which was no decorating, especially no putting up the tree, before my mom's birthday, was was December 10th.  It just seemed like next weekend was too late, so we went for it. It took about three minutes to pick out a tree, and it was the cheapest in town at $25, and I think it might be the most beautiful tree we've ever had.  

And, there wasn't a swear word or a moment's frustration getting it into the stand!

Oh the memories that flood back to me when we unpack my Memere's creche.  I'm tickled that my daughter enjoys it as much as I did/do:

Voila!  Up and ready!

Every ornament got touched, reminisced about, and admired:

And our house clearly has a 4-year old in it, because we have colored lights framing the front of it.  We let Bea pick, colored or white, and the choice for her was easy.  Anthony said our theme this year is "a redneck Christmas." Yet to come is the Filipino blinking star, which we need another extension cord for.  That should really put it over the top!  Call it what you will, Beatrice was so intensely joyful these hours of decorating, talking nonstop loudly and rapidly, so so, so excited.....and when I backed her up into the road at dusk and she looked at the house, her eyes doubled and she literally gasped in wonder.  It was like one of those commercials where they say "lights at Lowe's? $40....time spent on a ladder and in frustration untangling made in China electrical products?1 hour.....number of trips into the house to get hammer/nail/bigger nail/nail with bigger head? 17.....number of years it will take for this mother to forget the happiness in her daughter's eyes? LIFETIME!

Earlier this morning,  and hour or so after seeing Charlie Brown Christmas for the 3rd or 4th time of the season, she said "Linus is white Mama."  I was totally confused and thought we were starting a race discussion when I figured out she mean he was "Right" when she clarified "Linus was white 'bout the real meanin' of Christmas bein' 'bout Jesus." .....and a couple hundred colored lights of course.....

St. Joseph's School annual Christmas Show

Pre-show antics:

                   The cuteness index when preK processed into the church was over the top!

                                                     My little match girl.....

 

I think here she's trying to blow her battery-operated candle out! And Graham is fading fast....

After the show, we headed downtown where the last First Friday was in full swing!  She and Ben (aka "The Little Drummer Boy") had a blast picking at the hors d'oeuvres, and racing around the gallery and this incredible homemade gingerbread house:

                                                    

Here's about the only movie clip of the night where we can actually see Bea.  It really was a wonderful program, very classy, innocent, and focused on the true meaning of the season:

Mailing a Letter to Santa

Cousins

I love this shot Marianne just sent me, taken the day after Thanksgiving.  Shown are my cousin Marianne's two children Kristin and Erik, and two (of six) of my cousin Joe's children, Muhammad and Maryam.  How Bea adores "the dog and cat" as well as the two closer to her age! We're so glad we got a chance to spend the day with them!

Holiday Dazzle Parade

Minimalist

I love that she was a little nervous,  but that she conquered her fears and got right up.  I love the red teeth from the #40 dye Christmas cookie she ate while waiting in line 45 minutes, and I love most of all that she only had one present on her list for the Man in Red (and it costs under $10!)

Thanksgiving

 Beatrice was stone-faced throughout her school play.  I couldn't get her to crack a smile, so I guess the teachers made their point about acting being serious business!

But after the play was done , uniform off, and 5-days-off began, the smile came out!

Here she is Thursday morning in her new turkey dress (and barrette) from J.J.:

                                                      "Do you want to see my taw-key???"

We had a wonderful dinner with friends, then had some of my family over for a gathering in the evening, which included Bea's first piano recital:

Off to bed....visit with more cousins tomorrow as well as the annual sitting on Santa's lap!!!!

4 1/2---Because some day I'll forget....

*Beatrice loves to pretend she's a puppy.  She crawls around on the floor and has the sweetest ever little bark.  Her canine name is "Chocolate Chip."  She responds to questions with yes (2 barks) and no (1 bark).

*If she thinks she's about to be reprimanded, forgets what she has to say, or can't think of a word, she says "I love you" instead.

*In good Vietnamese fashion, she's changed the order of her name.  If asked, she states "I'm Beatrice Foronda Minh Hanh, but you can just call me Beatrice or Bebe."

*She's over her North Korea phase and talks more about India now.

*She's been dry through the night for a couple of months.

*She's starting to read piano music on the staff.

*B. uses the word "amazing" to describe all things wonderful, except she pronounces it "mazin'...." And her favorite negative word is "horrible."

*She would eat bread and/or breadlike foods at and for every meal if we let her. (she asks for "two toast-iz at breakfast)

*She often refers to me as "Madame."

*At bedtime, we recently offered "doing loving kindness" as an alternative to traditional Catholic prayers. This is a meditation-like "script" we guide her through, during which she wishes everyone in her life- and eventually the world-peace, happiness, and health.  She loves it, chooses it almost every night, and it almost always puts her fast asleep immediately.

*She says she wants my job when she grows up and when I "tire."  She told me I should "just leave the directions on the desk" in my office so she knows what to do.

*She's in a major Daddy phase the past few weeks.

*She can work Daddy's iPad like nobody's business (hence the Daddy phase).

*Bea loves the new PBS show Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, a modern-day Mister Rogers.

*She asks for a "sleepover" in our room whenever there's no school the next day.  She usually convinces us.

*She weighs about 31 lbs. fully dressed, but somehow that feels significantly heavier  than 29 lbs., so her days of being carried are fewer and fewer.

*She's asking often to get some of her own money out of the bank to go buy things at the store.  I think an allowance is in her future.

*She loves to rhyme spontaneously, and does so very well (except sometimes she's swearing, but has no idea she's doing so!)

*She uses the button-pushing phrases "That's no fair!"  and "Blah, blah, blah....".  Oh wait, I don't mind forgetting that!

Meanwhile, here she is today helping bag sweet potatoes for Thanksgiving baskets at the local food pantry.  It is very important to us that Beatrice do community service, and Anthony decided this was the year to start.  She did a terrific job and hopefully this is the first of many, many hours of doing for others in her lifetime..

Ballet Re-enactment

Beatrice told us that they watched a bit of Swan Lake in dance class this morning, and she wanted to show us what she saw:

                             The show ended quickly, and then it was back to playing....