Countdown

Sofia has 2 days left at daycare. I have been counting down the days for a few weeks now. Not that I am looking forward to it; on the contrary. I can’t believe how fast these five years have gone by. We’ve been very fortunate to have found a daycare that we trust, that she always felt comfortable in, and that allowed us to have the peace to mind that our child was loved, and well taken care of while we were at work. I will miss the familiarity of it all, and having my two girls under the same roof when I am not with them.

Sofia is now going from a place that has 100 children at the most to one that has 600 at the very least. She has known for a while that this is coming. Her teachers have been preparing her and her classmates for it, and so have we. So she understands the concept. And she knows that come next Wednesday she is going to a new place, with a new teacher, new kids, and a whole new routine. Still, I am not quite sure how she is going to react when we take her there, and without much of an introduction, have to leave her alone, with all those new faces, the entire day. Or maybe I do know, and that is why I am dreading that day. If she stays crying, calling out our names, I know I will want to turn around, pick her up and tell her “Nevermind. Let’s go home. You don’t have to stay”. But I know I can’t. So even if she is screaming my name, I will just have to walk away.

But for now, back to daycare: When I picked the girls up today, one of Sofia’s teachers welcomed me with “The folder”. This is a compilation of art projects, photos, and things Sofia has said in her five years there. As you look at the content, you can tell the progress your child has made along the way, from barely being able to draw a line, to writing their full name. When she handed it to me, I literally felt my heart sink. It was like a time capsule. As if the folder contained all the memories, all the laughs, all the moments they have shared with my child while I was not there. It was also a reminder that regardless of how safe of a place it is for her, her time there has to come to an end. One of the teacher’s favorite’s quotes was: “Sometimes we have to remind Sofia that she is not the teacher, and as such, she can’t put her friends in timeout”. That definitely sounded like my girl. I can’t wait to go through the entire folder with her, and look at the pictures, and read the teacher’s notes as well. But I think I will wait for the weekend, when she is officially out of daycare. It will be our last time looking back, before we look forward and start preparing for what lies ahead.

Bingo. Bus. Bingo. Bus.

Bella's current favorite songs are "Bingo" and "The wheels on the bus". She makes me sing them over, and over, and over. But now it seems like she has also found a new favorite game. She asks for one song and then, very quickly, asks for the other one, only to switch back once again. It is as if she wanted to know just how quickly I can switch. It goes somewhat like this:

The wheels on the bus go...BINGO!
There was a farmer had ...BUS!
The babies on the b....BINGO!
There was a ....BUS!
The peop....BINGO!

She is also learning how to say “town”, so when she actually lets me get to that part, she sings along with me.

Me: “The wheels on the bus go round and round, all through the TOWN”
Bella: “…………………………………………………………… OWN”

Glowing Girl

This evening we went to a party at one of the neighbor’s house. There were a bunch of children, so Sofia had a good time. Bella and I came back home early, because she needed a bath followed by some winding down time. Sofia and Lionel stayed for a little while. When they finally came back, Sofia had a glow in the dark necklace and bracelet. At bedtime, she told me: “I am Glowing Girl”. That reminded me of when my sister was a teenager and told us that we needed to start calling her “Gabrielle”. That is by no means the Spanish version of her name. That would be like a Robert saying “call me Roberto”. Or a Peter saying “call me Pedro”. I don’t even remember for how long she told us that, or if she was joking or not.

Beginning Writer's Workshop

It's official! I have finally completed the online beginning writer's workshop that I've been taking for the last few weeks. Not that it has any official validity, but I still think it's pretty cool. Now, hopefully at least some of what I learn will stick with me.

Ice Cream Rock 'n Roll

For some reason I've always thought that ice cream trucks are kind of creepy. Maybe when I was a kid I saw a movie where something bad happened, and that forever ruined it for me. Not that I would share this with Sofia. She is already scared of enough things as it is.

Today it was "ice cream social" day at school. So they brought an ice cream truck at the end of the day. It was not a bad idea considering how hot it has been around here. But I have to say that the truck, along with the driver, definitely did not do much to change the image in my head. The driver was an older guy, with a really long white beard. He was wearing a black t-shirt and looked as if instead of an ice cream truck he should be driving a Harley. The truck was spray-painted all over the place. I don't remember exactly all the pictures in it, but it definitely had some "Rock 'n Roll" motifs. It was kind of a weird sight, but I kept my comments to myself, and the girls enjoyed the ice cream all the same.

Fashion

It appears my sweet Isabella, at 20 months old, already has an opinion about what she is going to wear on any given day. Sure, she can’t really talk all that well yet. But she can still find ways to prevent me from getting her dressed until I go get an outfit that she approves of. I don’t even know what her criteria for rejecting an outfit might be. But when she doesn’t want something, she definitely makes it clear.

Toronto. From "C" to "C".

Our very first friend’s night trip finally came and went.

For eight years, this group of friends has been getting together on Thursday nights, rain or shine. And throughout the years, we've seen each other start school, finish school, get jobs, complain about them, and finally leave them to explore new ones. We've witnessed breakups, celebrated home purchases, marriages, and the births of our kids. But somewhere along the way, we have also seen some of us move away.

After careful planning around everybody's summer plans, we finally settled on a date for our very first road trip together. At the end of July we would all be driving to Toronto to visit our friend T, who moved there at the beginning of the year. She is expecting a baby at the beginning of September, so we decided to go there and throw her a baby shower.

At the end there were eight of us. We decided we would take two cars and leave on Thursday evening, so those of us working would only have to take one day off. Everybody showed up on time, we packed the two cars, and headed north. The drive to Toronto was long and tiring, but for the most part uneventful. That is until for some odd reason we decided to stop at the scariest gas station in Detroit. Looking back, that was not our proudest moment at all. I was truly afraid of getting out of the car, but could not decide what would be worse: Having my car being stolen with me in it, or being in the middle of a really bad area with no car at all. We now laugh about it, but the truth is that we were lucky to leave that place unharmed. I am certainly never going back.

We finally made it to Toronto Friday morning at around 3:00am. We said hi to T and her husband, chatted for a little while, and finally crashed. Later that day we threw the baby shower, and in the afternoon headed out to the beach. The sky was cloudy in the morning, but at the end turned out to be a beautiful day. We sat around for almost two hours talking; a little bit of everything. I couldn't remember the last time I sat around at the beach without having to be on alert, watching the kids. Although I missed my girls dearly, I was grateful to have that time to myself, and for the opportunity to reconnect with friends. On Saturday we were out pretty much all day, which was great for me as I am severely allergic to T's cat. Even though I took allergy medicine the entire time, fresh air was definitely what helped me the most. We walked and walked, going from one place to another: the Caribbean festival, the CN tower, the main square, and of course, china town. We were all proud of our friend Susan who is also very pregnant by now, yet never complained or even slowed down. We closed Saturday watching a bad movie at T's home, a good way to wind down from the busy day. But we were so tired, that we couldn't even watch the end. We just had to go to bed. On Sunday morning T's husband made us a really nice breakfast. We all sat around, ate, and talked a little bit more about kids, our parents, life in a new city, and the joys and challenges of welcoming a new baby into our lives. We knew that was our last chance to hang out together, at least for a long while.

On Sunday we headed back home. And even though I was anxious to see my family, the drive seemed a lot shorter that time around. Maybe it helped that we just kept talking, sharing previously untold stories, remembering classic ones, opening up in general, and doing a recap of our trip. We were also proud that we never got on each other's nerves, and despite having a bunch of girls together pretty much 24x7, there were no cat fights; zero pettiness. We also created new memories, whether they are a bad decision to make a stop in the worst part of town, the dumb questions asked by some stranger, or the locals who, partly because of our fault, almost picked a fight.

All in all it was a great trip, and I would certainly do it again. But even though Toronto was a nice city, the truth is that what made it so great was the company, the chats, the opportunity to become closer, and to remember why, through it all, we still make the effort to get together every Thursday night.