21 months: Charming the Hungarian Clan, Exclaiming "Coca" while Traversing the World, and Good Luck to Everyone Who Tries to Hold Your Hand

A couple of weeks ago, you turned 21 months old. Yes, a couple of WEEKS ago. And thus, this month’s letter is frightfully late. In my defense, you and I were in Hungary a couple of weeks ago when this milestone happened, where we were much too busy to write letters, what with all the Metro-riding, thermal bathing, bird-feeding, city-walking, and Ischler-eating. Nevertheless, I did not want to let this month pass by without at least touching on a few things.

Firstly, let me just say that you are a wonderful traveler. A fantastic WORLD TRAVELER. Indeed, by now you are a seasoned pro at this transatlantic flying business, having spent a total of 38 hours at 35,000 miles up in the air during your short 21 months of life. This does not count the long hours spent in transit, which is a tribulation all its own – especially if you happen to be in Frankfurt, as we’ve found.

Once on the ground, you immediately set out to charm the Hungarian side of your family, smiling and acting like you already knew them. I think you felt the kinship and love right away. Through the course of our stay, you developed a friendship with each member of the family, which was expressed in some of the following ways: hanging around Grandma in the kitchen while she cooked, following her around and finding a tall doorstep as your perch, where you could stay close; your face lighting up every time Grandpa entered the room, your hand going up in a wave; clinging for dear life to Barbara, wrapping your arms and legs around her, not wanting to let go. Calling each of them by name.

I know that from now on, you will surely remember your Papa, Mami, and Barbara. And they will cherish having known you as a 21-month-old.

One of the best things was that you really began imitating every word you heard us speak. Perhaps you just needed to hear a single language spoken for a length of time by many people. It was great. For two weeks, you repeated everything, so I shouldn’t have been too surprised when at Dulles Airport on our way back, you exclaimed “Coca” as I opened a bottle of Coca-Cola. I said, what did you just say, and you repeated it with a big grin, clearly asking for the drink. My delight at this utterance was such that I actually gave you some and this encouraged you to repeat “Coca” over and over, like a mantra, in quest of the sweet caramel-colored fuzzy liquid. As a result, you now like Coca-Cola. (sigh) And we now have the task of not giving you Coca-Cola out of our inability to resist the adorableness every time you grin and ask so sweetly.

By the way, this has now become an inside joke between us, or kind of like the punch line to a joke. At any time, even as you are drifting off to sleep, I need only to mention the word “Coca” to have you break into a knowing smile.

There were new accomplishments this month, one of them when you scribbled purposefully on the Doodle Pro (magnetic drawing board), then pointed to it, saying CAR! You are also making connections that often surprise us. Like when we are driving to pick up Daddy and we get to a certain point in the road, you always yell out “Daddy,” recognizing the way to Daddy’s workplace. You associate bookstores with the trains you usually play with there, so when we entered a bookstore in Hungary, you started running to the back saying “Choo-choo!” only to find that they do things differently there (there was a play corner with toys, board and chalk, but no trains).

There were a few challenging occasions at the end of our trip, when we were sightseeing for many hours a day and you were in the stroller. You do great in the stroller and people remark how content you are for long periods (some days up to 7-8 hours with short breaks, I’m not kidding). The problem came not when you were in the stroller, but when you’d come out. You would run around happily until I eventually needed you to hold my hand (or anyone else’s for that matter), which you would absolutely refuse. Any and all attempts to redirect you to go this way or that were met with severe resistance, noodle legs, the arching of your back, LOUD GROWLING, and thrashing around, like a wild animal.

Was it the endless hours that you had spent restrained in the stroller and your urgent need for unrestricted freedom when you were finally out? Was it the bad teething you were experiencing at the time, which we all know can try the patience of the best of them? Or was it that you also missed your nap on a couple of those days, which can completely change the manner of a young child?

LET this be a lesson to you: don't put your child in a stroller for so many hours!

In retrospect, requiring you to sit in the stroller for hours on end was probably most of the problem. The other day we went walking with a good friend of mine who has three children and you sat through the 1.5-hour walk contentedly in your stroller. I thought nothing of it, but she called this “extraordinary.” So the fact that you often sat for hours before there was a chance to come out for a break, then were back in the stroller for hours again speaks for unusual patience on your part.

But at the time, I felt that you were acting like a little terror (or as Ivana Trump would put it, like a “barbarian”) and I was quite taken aback that my sweet pleasant child, who previously knew how to hold my hand and how to obey re-direction, could transform so drastically. To be fair, these were only brief moments in days that were otherwise cheerful and good. You were always quick to get over the tantrum and get back to enjoying your day. In fact, they seemed to disturb me more than you, as I do not enjoy curtailing your happy freedom and thereby causing you distress. So I got a little inventive in order to still let you go AND keep you safe (I’m proud to say, without the use of a leash!) and we had a really fun time as I made a game out of your running back and forth between us at Heroes’ Square – without your running off and out into traffic!

Our travel back to the US went very well. You allowed yourself to be entertained and lulled to sleep by Mama on the 9-hour flight. Your most severe “offense” was repeating “Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba...” endlessly once for about 3 minutes, which elicited the disapproving loud shushing of one passenger, who was by all evidence - childless. What’s more, I’ll speculate that she has never encountered children before, ever, in her lifetime. Daddy says that this passenger is lucky that he was not there to witness her loud shushing. I say, this passenger is lucky that you didn’t give her an earful of your LOUD GROWLING that you had just perfected in the preceding days. There’s no doubt in my mind that all of her loud shushing would have been NO MATCH FOR THAT.

Love,
Mama

20 months: Kisses and Hugs, Toddler Escapades, Car! Car! Car!, and Let There Be Order

You turned 20 months old a few days ago. Your Mama was swamped with work and didn’t get a chance to write your letter on time for your celebrated day. She also didn’t have the time to take notes this month that she can refer to when the time comes to touch on some of the great happenings of the previous month. Therefore when she finally sits down to write something heartfelt or witty about your life, to capture fleeting moments that if left unrecorded, might permanently pass from memory, when she sits down to do this, she must rack her sleepy, work-frazzled brain in order to remember to capture the moments that should, by no means, be left uncaptured.

For there were many beautiful moments, she knows, for sure this month.

And it is just now starting to come to her that she should definitely mention how this month you have been over the top with your kisses and hugs. That you will come up to her at random and say “pu,” (the beginning of the word for kiss in Hungarian), and you will plant a kiss right on her lips, but you will not be satisfied with just one, no, no, no – you will keep coming back for two, three, four, five kisses, all the while repeating the word “pu”! It is true that sometimes you dole out kisses when you want something, like early in the morning when you are snuggled next to Mama and you want to awaken her to nurse and you do this by leaning over and gently kissing her on the lips.

This moment, your Mama can’t even articulate to you how ABSOLUTELY SWEET IT IS.

A lot of the time though, there is nothing you want, but the kiss itself. All day long, you come up, stick your face up saying “pu” and with your mouth open, press your lips to the vicinity of mine. Your face is serious, as you concentrate on this task. This kissing thing is serious business!

Your hugs are just as charming. You come up to us with no other purpose, but to hug us or pat us. How your Daddy loves this! You don’t kiss him as much, because of the roughness of his face, but do you ever hug! You also fling your arm around our necks and hold on as we carry you, returning our hugs and wrapping your legs tightly around us as we hold you. You must know, we LOVE all of this and we will never grow tired of your hugs and kisses.

Cars are now your coveted Number One Toy, replacing the dinosaur, the Lego, and even the Pink Flower, and you seem to be carrying a car around everywhere you go. It is the first thing you look for in the morning and the last thing you think of when you’re falling asleep, crying out one last time “Car!” as you drift off to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, you sit straight up and the first word that you utter is: “Car, car, car!” Each and every morning, whether it is the moment your sleepy eyes open, or a minute later when you are climbing down the stairs (on your own, by the way!), your first words are about your treasured cars. In repeating the word, I think you’re trying to define plural. “Car” is also the collective word for all kinds of vehicles: cars, trucks, fire engines, trains, wagons and tractors. To satiate your interest in cars, we have gone on many Car Adventures this past month. You’ve been to the Fire Station to see fire trucks, you sat on a tractor at the children’s museum and at a farm, rode the semi truck at the mall, and we’ve made many trips to Barnes & Noble to play with your new favorite: the trains.

One of the most delightful surprises of this month happened when your Mama discovered that you are now able to play with the wooden trains independently for a long period of time while she sits and reads a book (as opposed to having to supervise you close up, because you chew everything). This change happened in a mere three weeks’ time. Needless to say, we now make regular trips to Barnes and Noble – so you can play and I can read.

There are other things too, that all of a sudden, you can do. For example, you have figured out how to pick up more than one thing with a single hand. The other day after dinner, your dad and I marveled at how you grabbed one object as you stuck out your index finger to wrap it around the second object and voila, there you were carrying two things in one hand. Congratulations, you’ve saved yourself a second trip! Another new skill, which was a bit less amusing, was when we found out that you now know how to lock doors. One morning, I was giving you some private time in the bathroom (sometimes you like to go without distractions; by the way, you’re totally potty-trained) – and you locked yourself in. Luckily, Daddy was home and was able to save you after a few minutes of working the lock. All I have to say is: don’t do that again.


And as the month progressed, the escapades continued. You climbed the stairs one day, without my knowledge. I was doing dishes and I noticed a couple of minutes later that I didn’t hear you playing in the other room anymore and it was very quiet. MOTHERS EVERYWHERE KNOW THAT QUIET IS NOT GOOD. It isn’t good especially when the child is loose in the house. (As opposed to when they are safely tied down to a chair, a crib, or a table... whatever one’s preferred child-constraining method may be.) :) I started searching for you, calling your name, and what do I hear, if not a singy-song voice coming from upstairs??!

We had been more lax with the gate, because you stopped trying to climb the stairs. Day after day, we (OKAY, I) would take the gate away from the bottom of the stairway, and you seemed to understand that it meant that you should behave just as if it was still there. (I was trying to stretch your boundaries.) But now, I realize that you were actually just waiting for the perfect timing – a lapse in Mama’s attention.

Nobody has ever climbed stairs faster than I at that very moment, as a dozen things you could be getting into was running through my head, and sprinting into our bedroom, what do I find? Smiley you, standing next to the bassinet, singing and playing with the bears that hang from the top. (Yes, your old bassinet is still there. You enjoy it periodically, asking to sit in there, push the music/light buttons, sing and rock yourself. You never did enjoy it as a newborn, so I’m thinking, why not get our money’s worth now, you know?) You came to me right away and as I picked you up and explained that I was worried, because I didn’t know where you were, and that you know you’re not allowed to come upstairs by yourself... you started to pat my back, as if to comfort me: “It’s okay, Mama. I’m okay, see?”

This month has brought bruised and scraped knees, splinters in your feet and bloody lips as some of the natural consequences of your exploits. You hurl yourself off high structures at high speeds. If we’re there to catch you, you tumble into our arms with giggles. AND IF WE’RE NOT THERE TO CATCH YOU, THAT’S OKAY TOO. You don’t seem to care. One of your favorite activities is crossing the distance between the armchair and the ottoman, jumping over the space as we look on in horror. Another one: STEPPING OFF the couch. At the park, you enjoy the bleachers and run back and forth on them. You run at breakneck speed wherever you can.

It is amazing to me how you so fully understand both the English and the Hungarian language. How did that happen? You also like to string words together into sentences. When you want to communicate a lengthy thought, you speak a string of unintelligible words, always with the correct inflection, the correct hand gesture, and the correct facial expression. It’s the cutest thing. Like when there’s a loud noise and you give me your questioning hands and raised eyebrows as you ask “Whaatadoo balagado youlada?” And I answer, as if I fully understood, “Yeah, that was a loud sound, but nothing to worry about, you can go back to playing now.” Or when you can’t quite fit your toy telephone up on the windowsill and you look up at me inquiring: “Mama, dobada youbabaya veedababoo?” Which I totally understand to mean, “Mama, can you help me fit this telephone, so I can roll it back and forth on the windowsill?” We talk this way all day long. Of course, you say many actual words and phrases too, in fact too many to count, in both English and Hungarian. But it is these gibberish sentences that I find so charming. You are not content with a mere word or phrase, but understand that you should be stringing together a bunch of words and phrases. Thus, you mimic the flow of actual conversation.



It has become apparent in the last few months that you love order. You got this from your Mama. It BOTHERS YOU to see something out of order, and you try to return the thing that is amiss to its proper condition. For example, during our walk the other day, when Daddy pushed the empty stroller the WRONG WAY (with front wheels up in the air), you ran back to him and scolded him about this: “Ku mama babyouvadoo!” (That’s the wrong way of pushing that stroller!), and would not let up your finger-pointing protest until he acquiesced. Thank you. You see, your Mama also noticed this wrong way of handling the stroller, and was similarly bothered by it, but was debating whether to mention it. You have made your Mama’s life easier by being the one to speak up. I can just smile, shrug my shoulders, and say: “It bothers THE CHILD.”

When things fall down, you respond with an “Oh-oh!” and pick them up. When you are done with your shoes, they need to go back in the right place. When you are finished with your blocks, you spend long minutes neatly stacking them back in their box. When I turn one of the lamps on/off in the living room, they all must be turned on/off in order. When we are ready to eat, you run to your booster seat at the table, but if the TV happens to be on, you must run back into the living room first to turn it off. When I place your plate of food before you, if I’ve forgotten to give you a fork, you loudly call for your “lla!” (villa – fork) and when you are finished eating, you carefully hand me your plate, your lla, and your water cup. If you notice that your hands are messy from eating (or anything else), you request that they be cleaned. Neatness and order, that’s your cup of tea.


As I’ve been working a lot on the computer, you’ve taken to imitating me by climbing up on the other computer chair, typing with the other keyboard, and using the other mouse (with the computer turned off). You’ll get up there several times a day and start typing away, like you see me doing. As I look across the room, I can see that you imitate me really well, occasionally using the mouse along with the keyboard. I am thankful that you now engage in independent play more, as it has allowed me to get my translation work done while you play beside me.

However, there are times when you are more needy, and at these times, you ask to be picked up over and over, sometimes every 2 minutes. Needless to say, I cannot get any work done this way. At these times, you often hear: “Not now, sweetie, Mama’s working.” But you are remarkably persistent and keep coming back and surely enough, your dogged perseverance always pays off in the end. In the end, I always give in, put off the work, and give you my attention.

This scenario reminded me of that Scripture, where God says that those who are tireless in seeking Him, those who keep knocking relentlessly at heaven’s door and hoping for an affirmative answer, get their requests answered.

(An interesting line of reflection is why this is:
Faith in action, changing the very nature of things?
God’s reward for our fervent diligence, which demonstrates that we are serious about seeking Him?
A God-given ability of ours, the created beings, to change the mind of the Creator?)

I find that this is one of the most remarkable aspects of parenting: not only do we teach you, but you also teach us – or more precisely, God teaches us through you.

Love,
Mama

Jersey Days

For the love of photography

For about a year now, I’ve been looking into upgrading my camera. Photography has become my most favorite hobby in the past couple of years (thanks in no small part to a young BOY!) and my point-and-shoot was just not cutting it anymore. When a camera does not do what you want it to do, it is time to cut the strings and move on.

You may have noticed this past spring that for a little while, my photos got quite good. This is because this past spring my good friend, who heard that I was looking into DSLR cameras, loaned me her Nikon D70s for a couple of months. Consequently, this past spring I fell in love with Nikon. I realized after using it that I cannot go back to my old camera for very much longer, and I fervently began doing research on the Digital SLR market.

I now knew that I wanted a Nikon; I just didn’t know which one. (I wanted a D70s until I found out that model is no longer available. OR, it’s available at places like Amazon for oh, almost twice as much as the upgraded, much better version, just because you can’t get it anywhere else any more. No thanks; I don’t want it that badly.) In the meantime, I tried to get myself a new camera for free by entering Nikon’s Moving Pictures Photo Contest with 17 (!) of my photos, hoping to be chosen as one of 60 winners, who receives a Nikon D60 camera. (This was not my camera of first choice, but a fine DSLR, indeed, if it was going to be FREE.) Well, no such luck. YES, YOU CAN BELIEVE YOUR EYES, I DIDN’T WIN IT. So I went back to the drawing board and continued to agonize over which Nikon model would provide the best quality-value ratio. I dropped by several camera stores to hold my chosen contenders in my hands; for I knew that I wanted something similar in size and ergonomics to the D70s.

A few weeks ago, I made my final decision. I chose the semi-professional Nikon D80, which is actually on its way out, so price-wise right now, it’s a good value. It has many of the same features as the prestigious D200 for a substantially lower sticker price. It is touted as perfect for the advanced amateur or enthusiast photographer, both of which categories might be used to describe me.

I still feel like I’ve spent a king’s ransom on this machine. But I also think it was worth it. I got the service plan for 4 years, because having that, they will repair/replace the camera for almost any reason. If in the next 4 years, MY SON SPILLS JUICE ON IT, which the sales clerk helpfully pointed out, or if I’m so clumsy as to DROP IT – the camera will be replaced. The only circumstance that is exempt from this plan is immersion in water. Folks, I will make sure to FIGHT THE URGE TO IMMERSE MY NEW CAMERA IN WATER. But should I forget this crucial little detail, when we are together and I head for water, in order to immerse my new camera in it, please stop me.

If you still can’t tell how awfully excited I am for my new camera, let me just sing it to you:

This Nikon is MINE, MINE, MINE. Yeah, yeah, yeah. La, La, La ...

19 months: The Where is It Gesture, The Pink Flower, Telephone Pretend Play, and Beware Bugs - Here Comes a BOY!

You are 19 months old today and can I just start out by saying: OH MY GOSH, THE CUTENESS! You keep getting cuter all the time! Tell me, how’s that even possible? You are supposed to be adorably cute when you are very young, that’s expected; but as you grow older, you are supposed to gradually lose that cuteness. This seems to be working backwards for you, for you keep getting more and more adorable as you grow. (Even with the screaming.)

This here is currently Cuteness # 1: The Where is It Gesture. Which is also accompanied by an adorable Where is It Sound. (That I cannot insert here.)

You love flowers. Or I should say, the pink flower (whose name I don’t know; although I knew it four years ago, when I planted it) that grows in our front flowerbed. A couple of months ago, at the height of spring, I introduced you to this flower (whose name I still don’t know and don’t feel like looking up right now, so let’s just call it The Pink Flower). So I introduced you to this flower and showed you that “Look, you can smell it!” At which point, you were instantly hooked. Your love for this flower grew and grew, and now every time we leave the house or arrive home, you scrunch up your little nose and make exaggerated sniffing sounds while pointing to The Pink Flower. EVERY TIME. You must go over there and pick one. This has become an integral part of leaving the house and arriving home.

When you pick The Pink Flower, you don’t just smell it and let it go. No, you hold onto it for hours at a time. If we’re going to the store, you hold onto your precious pink flower throughout our entire shopping trip, pressing it to your nose to smell its scent every now and then, and asking for assistance if you’ve accidentally dropped it into the shopping cart. At home, you keep it with you in the house for hours, placing it here and there while you go do something and then going back to it again. These days, I find dried up pink flowers in every nook and cranny, where you’ve placed them for safekeeping. Unfortunately, these flowers don’t bloom through the summer (though I think constantly picking them off has extended their blooming season a bit, cause they’ve never bloomed this long before). I noticed the other day that there are only a few more left. You’re in for some sad disappointment when you’ll soon find that there are no more Pink Flowers. (I’m sure that you’ll give us your Where is It Gesture. Whereupon your father and I will shrug our shoulders and look forlornly at each other.)

Another fascinating toy lately is the telephone. You love that thing. Anytime someone calls our house, you expect to be able to talk to them. Those occasions when we’ve hung up the phone (or tried to) without handing it to you first, you loudly let us know your displeasure. When we hand you the cordless phone, you grab it, hold it to your ear and start walking off. You pace! You pace exactly like you’ve seen your daddy and I do on countless occasions while talking on the phone. It’s hilarious to see my one-year-old pacing and "talking" on the phone, much like a teenager.

You love to play pretend with the telephone. It doesn’t even need to be a real phone; it can be a play phone, a remote control, a Lego or a block. You hold these to your ear as you walk around and talk as if there is someone on the other end. You chatter away and every so often you stop and make an eruptive sound resembling a cough/cry. You fake laugh! It took me a while to realize that you are pretending to talk on the Lego phone, complete with a pretend laughter. The first few times I heard the fake laughter coming from the other room, I was wondering what was the matter? Your execution of this pretend laughter must have improved over time, because now it’s clear to me who you are imitating. It is unbelievable how precisely you are able to imitate your Daddy’s laughter.

You are spending more and more time in make believe. In your world, cherries are cars, a zucchini is an airplane and bugs get unceremoniously flushed down the toilet amidst matter-of-fact waves of bye-bye! Wait! That last one isn’t pretend at all! That’s just something we do when we catch a BUG!

In order to catch a BUG, one needs a very sharp-eyed one-year-old, who will make sure to find every single bug that has ever dared to cross the threshold of the family abode. The BUG may be naively scurrying from one place to another, trying to be inconspicuous as he goes about his day, not knowing that his hours are numbered, because there is a one-year-old by the name of Caleb in the house.

Son, I am very proud of you.

As you have gathered by now, BUGS are not your Mama’s favorite creatures. Whereas last month you’d pick the bug up and squash it into a pulp between your fingers (forcing me to clean BUG GUT off of you – NOT COOL), this month you understand that “Yes, the BUG is there, but I need not pick it up and squash it with my bare hands. We’re not barbarians here. Simply pointing the BUG out will do.”

Thus, you have again applied your talents and have made yourself useful by pointing out every sort of creepy-crawly creature you come across. Which is where I (must) take over by grabbing some toilet paper, gathering up the BUG, and hauling his a** to the toilet. It is a smoothly oiled operation, not hindered by emotion. Afterwards comes the unceremonious flushing, as we send the BUG off to another world with many waves and exclamations of “BYE-BYE, BUG!” (Yes, you now speak in phrases. Unceremoniously.) This is the fate of all BUGS in our house, except for that huge cricket that I couldn’t catch, but was finally able to successfully trap under the plunger and even today, he still awaits his fate there. (What do you think, should we wait one more week before we check on him?)


This is just a heads up, but I may need you to take over this bug-catching chore at some point in the future, if you don’t mind. The only reason I’m doing it now is because I’d rather catch a bug with toilet paper than clean bug gut off your fingers. But if you could learn to catch them yourself with toilet paper... We’ll talk later.

It seems like you’ve suddenly turned into a BOY overnight. If we thought you were a BOY before, we were wrong. It is clear to us after this month that now, NOW YOU’RE A BOY! A rambunctious, adventure-loving, risk-taking, LOUD, BOISTEROUS BOY! A BOY, who likes to run full speed at Daddy and body-slam into him. A BOY whose body-slams are so strong, they actually hurt. A BOY who is constantly seeking opportunities to jump off of high places, who relishes every chance to run at breakneck speed, to throw a ball, and to screech at the top of his lungs. You are not afraid to plop yourself back down into the pool, landing hard on your butt with water splashing all around. Or to have water poured over your head, (you’ll even pour it yourself!) as you laugh loudly at the water running down your face and into your eyes.

Before you were conceived, whenever I thought of having children, I always imagined a daughter. I guess, I thought that there would be a familiarity we’d share just by being of the same gender, and that maybe I could more easily relate to a daughter than to a son. But I must tell you how exceedingly happy I am to have a son, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. In all your boyishness, you have fulfilled my motherly dreams and longings. From the time of your birth, a bond was built between us, and even in this last month, it has only grown stronger. I honestly cannot imagine that it is possible to have any more of a connection, any more of a bond between mother and child than what you and I share.

Love,
Mama


(P.S. The Pink Flower belongs to the genus Dianthus, its full Latin name is Dianthus deltoides and its common name is maiden pink. It is helpful to have little volumes like this one around for those rare occasions when the Internet search engine fails to deliver.)