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I decided to shoot my own pictures for the holiday cards.
I decided to make candy/cookies/brownies for people we love because we can’t really afford to do presents this year.
I’m doing a secret santa for Elanor’s birth community.
What the hell was I thinking?
I “need” to mail everything out tomorrow, but it’s pretty much a lock that’s not going to happen. So Saturday it will be, which means I’ll be a disaster tomorrow (especially as Ravi will be out of town on a job interview thing). I have 60-80 cards to address, sugar and gingerbread cookies to back, four boxes of baked goods to mail out, the secret santa gift to mail out, and the damned cards to mail out. I had just typed that I wished I had someone to ask for help from when I realized I DO and even though it’s super late (11pm) I just called my aunt to ask if she’d mind coming over and hanging out with E while I bake and such.
Still I have to wonder why I thought this was a good idea.
Dear Elanor
I’m very late with this letter…sorry darling, but sometimes I get behind. You don’t leave me with a lot of energy at the end of the day to do things like the monthly letter 
This letter will chronicle November 3 (your actual first birthday) through today.
On your birthday, your Dad and I were totally obnoxious. We came into your room at midnight (although you weren’t born until 5:29 in the morning) and sang Happy Birthday. We sang it again when you did wake up in the morning.
On your birthday I took you to get your birthday photos taken, and we got some gorgeous shots done that day. Below are a few of my favorites!
Afterwards we went to Friendly’s where you enjoyed a hot dog and some mac and cheese. But the real pleasure was dessert where I let you eat your very own cone-head sundae! You loved it, but your outfit was in sad shape.
For dinner we took you to the Rainforest Cafe. You liked the big fishtank we sat next to, but were ready for bed earlier than usual, so we skipped dessert. On our way out through their store, you spotted a stuffed black cat and insisted on it, so we bought it for you. We ended the night with one more round of Happy Birthday.
In the month and a half since that auspicious day, you have changed a LOT.
Medically, you’ve had a stellar month and a half.
You had an awesome cardiology appointment-they are no longer interested in working with you. Your heart function is completely normal and the teeny hole you had last year has closed on its own. One doctor off the list!!! Neurology is down to every 6 months, and Pedi stroke has decided that they only need to see you once a year.
Gastroenterology? That’s not so great. I was a bit overzealous when I said last month that you were 16 pounds. The last weight we had before your bday was 15 lbs 15oz, which made it feel close enough to call 16lbs. But it turned out that some of that weight was constipation, and you have backslid. At your last appointment you were 15 and 11 oz or 12 oz. They aren’t that thrilled with your weight. So you have restarted reflux meds (Prevacid this time) with the idea that a lot of your eating behaviors are similar to that of kids who have silent reflux. It hasn’t seemed so silent as in the few days leading up to us getting the Prevacid (CVS had trouble getting it) you threw up three times. Your puke now is a lot more vile smelling than it was when you were just a breastmilk or formula fed baby (much like your poop is much more vile smelling). We’re also under instruction to give you mac and cheese (a HUGE favorite of yours) once a day and to fry foods that can be fried, to add butter, and we’re adding heavy cream to your milk to make it higher calorie. Anything we can do to try and fatten you up. If there isn’t real gain in the next 6-8 weeks, we’re going to have to do more testing to see if there’s a different problem…but I really think it’s probably silent reflux and the fact that you’re a teeny bean to begin with.
The lack of weight gain has become a problem as your height continues to grow on it’s curve. You are tall enough to wear size 6-12 months for the most part, or 6-9 months for companies that make it, but the waistbands are too big. So we compromise between size 3-6 months from places where the length is about right, or we do overalls, or sometimes I just let the pants do a bit of a low-rider thing on your diaper. I have also resorted to pulling the extra waistband fabric back and securing it with a ponytail elastic. Not terribly fashionable, but at least your pants stay up. If it were summer, I’d just put you in dresses and call it day.
You have a new fashion accessory and will have a second soon enough. Because of your previous stroke and the Von Willebrand disease, you are at high risk for another stroke with head trauma. As a new walker, there is still a lot of falling and….well…head trauma. So you are wearing a helmet. It came in the week after Thanksgiving, but it needed some modification, so you’ve only really been wearing it for a week now. It looks a lot like a pink football helmet. I’m sure you’ll have seen it long before you ever read these letters, so you’ll know what I mean. It’s also been decided that you need a brace to help with your right foot, which is pointing in and down, and causes you to fall a lot because it screws with your gait and is harder for you to control. Not to the point where a casual observer would think you’re anything but a new walker, but for me (who watches you walk all the time) or a physical or occupational therapist, it becomes very clear very quickly. So far all that’s happened is that you were evaluated by the EI physical therapists and we have an appointment after Xmas to have your foot cast by an orthotist.
I will make a difficult confession to you, Elanor. I hate seeing you in the helmet, and I know I’ll hate seeing the brace. Obviously I want to keep you safe and I make sure you’re in it/will be in it, but there’s part of me that just hates every minute of it. I think it’s because you were SO sick, and your recovery has been nothing short of miraculous that in general I can think of you as just a normal little kid. The helmet is something that marks you as different, and while I wouldn’t mind a stellar intellect marking you as different, something so obvious hurts. I worry about people’s reactions and feel very protective of you. More difficult to admit-I worry about people’s opinion of me, specifically that I’m one of the moms that I hate that’s trying to put their kid in a bubble and helmeting them for “safety” as opposed to “because a doctor made me.” Luckily both are meant to be a short term thing.
You are up to 10 teeth (the 9/10th ones are just poking through the gums) and there are two more on the way.
Developmentally you continue to astound us…
You are saying your first non-mama, dada word consistently. There are a few things you say (my favorite is “tan oo” for “thank you”) randomly and without meaning. For example your Daddy said he was going to put you to bed and you said thank you, but then began to scream when he put you in the crib. You also haven’t said it in over a week. What you ARE saying consistently is “YUM.” I posted all about it last week about how it means “FEED ME NOW.”
When asked you can show or point to your head, your ear and infrequently your nose. You clap your hands when asked where are your hands? You kick your feet when asked where are your feet?
If presented with three objects (say a book, a ball, and a shoe) when asked for an object, you most often pick the right object.
You can throw and kick a ball, although kicking occasionally turns into falling over a ball….
With a little help (in the form of a step) you can climb onto furniture. You can climb up stairs.
You love to dance to music, whether it’s on my iPod or made by one of your 8 million obnoxious musical toys. Currently “dancing” means bobbing up and down, but it’s adorable.
You’ve started picking up your dolls and giving them kisses.
For that matter, you’ve started distributing kisses far and wide to almost anyone. Generally this is well received, but recently we were in the doctor’s waiting room and a three year old girl entered. You ran up to her and threw your arms around her. She was NOT happy about this and tried to pull away, but wasn’t sure how as she seemed to get that you were a baby (compared to her) and she shouldn’t hurt babies. I pulled you off her, but she kept avoiding you and I had to keep pulling you away from her. On the flip side, we were at Isis Maternity for class and a woman was leaving the class next door with a young baby in its carrier and you walked up and wanted to see the baby. I asked if it was okay and you gave them a kiss on their blanket, which made both me and the other mom melt a little.
Less enchantingly, you’ve started throwing tantrums when you can’t do what you want. This usually means you can’t rip leaves off your grandparent’s plants, can’t have a diet coke can, can’t come into the bathroom with me when your dad is home, or hear the word no. If we pick you up to get you away from the thing you’re not supposed to be doing/touching/eating/whatever you shriek and arch your back and try to get away. I’m lucky I haven’t been bruised by the force with which you fling your head back against me.
Also, for the record, I’m not loving the complete and total meltdowns you have when I want to do things without you, like go to the bathroom when your dad is home or go out for a few hours to grocery shop without you or even just to go watch tv without you (when your dad is home, obviously). When I’m in the apartment this means I hear you wailing and hitting the door of whatever room I’m in but you’re not. When I leave you, you usually freak out for a good 5-10 minutes, and your grandparents tell me you go to the door and indicate that you want to go. This also resulted in a meltdown when we tried to get your picture with Santa. I put you in his lap and stepped out of the shot and you freaked. Separation Anxiety…fun!!!!
You also are exhibiting a new and strange fear. The vacuum, which you never cared about before is suddenly a thing to run from and scream whenever I run it. Considering the number of crumbs you strew about the house and the messes you make, I run it multiple times a week. Having you lose your shit over it is not fun. However, this is developmentally appropriate, and something for me to just kind of deal with until you grow out of it.
Final thing I’m not loving at all…you dropped down to one nap a day. Seriously child? I need two naps a day just to keep up with you…what’s with the single nap?
Adventures in November and early December…
You tried out gymnastics, and everyone (medical personnel especially) were very enthusiastic about the idea of you doing it. You love “flipping” (you bend over into what looks like the downward dog yoga pose and wait for someone to pick up your ankle and flip you onto your back). Your grandparents bought you lessons for Xmas, and we start formally tomorrow.
We finished off our “Sprouts” class at Isis Maternity this week. We made some lovely friends and you absolutely loved it. While Isis classes always end with bubbles, this was the first time I saw you get excited about them. You now chase bubbles with excitement.
We tried out an Early Intervention playgroup, but you and I both hated it. The instructor was not at all enthusiastic or fun (as opposed to our Isis instructor who is bubbly and gets you toddlers excited), and you kept trying to leave, which was the biggest sign of all. We decided against taking you back.
We’ve also had play dates. We haven’t seen C and Asince your birthday, but that’s just been scheduling. We hung out with Z and his parents at the Burlington Mall-he can say “Elanor” (sort of) now! Next week we’re going to get together with some of the other “Sprouts” moms and their kids!
But your favorite play dates this past month a half was the week that your cousins were up from DC for Thanksgiving!!!!! They stayed at your grandparent’s house and we went over EVERY day. Your older cousin, who is 6, absolutely adored you and kept picking you up and giving you kisses. She didn’t care that you kept stealing (and trying to eat) her hairbands. Your younger cousin (who’s 18 months old) wasn’t too sure of you. Sometimes the two of you played some strange toddler interpretation of tag (I scream you run after me, I scream and run after you), sometimes you fought over toys, sometimes you kissed him and he ran away from you.
They were up for Thanksgiving, as were their uncle and their grandparents. We were 12 for Thanksgiving, which is the biggest Thanksgiving I’ve ever been a part of. On one hand it was amazing to be part of such a lovely family gathering, but on the other, I was often overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. I also loved seeing how you fit into your bigger family.
The day after Thanksgiving we all went to the mall to do pictures of the whole family, each smaller family, and the kids all together and individually. Your cousin’s parents don’t want pics of them on the internet, so I’ll just post a pic of the three of us..
You also had your first weekends away from us. Your dad and I went to LA for a weekend and left you with your grandparents. But then to be fair we had to go away for a night and leave you with your grandma and auntie the following weekend. It was good for your dad and I to get a break and just be us and married for a weekend. You mostly handled it well, but each time we called and you heard our voices you started crying because you missed us.
One last serious thing…
Perhaps the biggest change in the last 6 weeks or so is that you dad was laid off. It’s been difficult not to let the tension affect our relationship with you, but we haven’t always been successful. We are okay because we have savings to cover things like this, but as Daddy looks for a new job, it’s pretty certain that we won’t be living in Massachusetts in six months. We could end up somewhere on the East Coast (which would be great in that our friends would still be pretty close by and would visit us and vice versa), on the West Coast (which would be less ideal, but would be radically different for us and that has it’s own benefits….plus it’s a LOT cheaper to buy a house, etc), in London (which is a dream of ours) or Singapore (which would be quite the adventure).
The things I worry most about with a move are separating you from your grandparents and all of our friends who have grown close to you and become your surrogate family. I also worry about making sure that your medical care is uninterrupted, that the quality of doctor we find in our new home matching your amazing doctors here, and ensuring you get what you need.
But no matter what, we will always love you and make sure that you are taken care of.
Mommy
I realize it’s more than a little bit trite to talk about being thankful on (American) Thanksgiving. But I can’t help it…
I just re-read my Thanksgiving entry from last year. It’s funny because what I remember when I think about Thanksgiving 2008 is how tremendously upset I was that Ravi was sick and Elanor and I were alone in the hospital. What I only vaguely remembered was that it was Thanksgiving when the team unhooked Elanor from the last of her tubes. She still had a central line that was hep-locked (a closed iv connection, basically) but it was the first time since she was seven days old that I was able to hold her without a million tubes tethering her to a two/three foot range from her crib. After re-reading the entry I remember carrying her down the hall of the 0-5 pedi floor, describing all the marine life painted on the walls…and her sleeping through the momentous trip. I remember dressing her in her silly little “first thanksgiving” outfit–originally I had bought a 0-3 month size, but she was so tiny I had to take it back and exchange it for a newborn size.
our little turkey
Last year I wrote the day after Thanksgiving…
I had meant to do the “Thankful” thing yesterday, but I don’t think anyone here would be hard pressed to guess what we are thankful for. We came so close to losing our little girl (when I came to the emergency room, they had to wheel me past the pediatric ER and the Acute ER, the latter of the two being where we witnessed the really scary stuff and it was hard not to burst into tears because I couldn’t stop the flood of memories from that room) and we are just so lucky that she is a fighter. She is healthy, happy, smart, and in our eyes (just like every baby is in their parent’s eyes) just perfect.
We’re also thankful for all of you. Your support over the past three weeks has been invaluable and we’re lucky to have you as our friends and family.
This year’s Thanksgiving was very different. We are all healthy (although my back is starting to bother me a great deal again…I need to make time to do Physical Therapy), and we were nowhere near a hospital. We spent today at my in-laws home with Ravi’s aunt and uncle, two cousins and their families. Elanor had two cousins (one 18 months, the other 6 years) to play with. Out of respect for their parent’s wish that they not be named/shown online, I won’t be adding a picture.
I will give you a visual though…all three kids playing together. The six year old hugs Elanor, and the 18 month old (not wanting to be left out) goes over and hugs too. Five minutes later, the 18 month old has a toy and Elanor steals it. A few hours later, the 18 month old offers E a book and then grabs it back. Elanor running after her oldest cousin, whom she already clearly adores. The 6 years old pulling E onto her lap and helping her ride down the slide. I’m sure it was a fairly surreal experience for Ravi’s mom and dad and aunt and uncle. They lived near each other when Ravi and his cousins were young, and they grew up doing Thanksgiving together. This was the first big family Thanksgiving in about 15 years, and they got to watch their children’s children playing together.
Watching the family together, it made me grateful. I grew up as an only child, and we weren’t particularly close to any of my cousins, so Thanksgiving was generally a small affair. By the time I reached adulthood and it was just three of us, Thanksgiving was a super small event. Since our wedding, we have tried to do an event where my parents and my inlaws come together, but it has proven to be disastrous (which is a shame, but it is what it is). I grew up reading stories and wishing I had a big crazy family. Today (well, this whole week) I got that experience. It was so wonderful to have our family come together from both coasts and be with each other.
So I am grateful for my family; the one I was born into, the one I married into, and the one I helped create. I am profoundly grateful for the team of doctor and nurses and specialists who have been with Elanor every step of the way. I am grateful to the point of tears that my daughter has grown into a healthy and happy toddler, and while her strong will tests my patience, I also am thankful for it as it helped save her life. I’m thankful for a husband who is supportive and loving, and who doesn’t make me hide my crazy parts. I have friends who are like family.
Being facetious, I am also thankful for Tivo, GLEE, trashy novels, and peanut butter cups
In a week I will no longer be able to say “this time last year, Elanor was in the hospital.”
It’s difficult to express how much the anniversary of her hospitalization bothers me. While I’ve dealt with the stroke and the sepsis, and deal every day with the long term fallout…I hate being reminded of our time in the hospital. I remember that we were supposed to be home on Thanksgiving last year. But then they changed their minds, Ravi got sick, and Elanor and I spent Thanksgiving day alone in the hospital.
This past weekend marked a turning point for Ravi and I. We left Elanor with his parents and went away for a weekend by ourselves for the first time.
I have not been unencumbered by a baby in over a year (or longer, if you count pregnancy…and considering my near constant worship at the porcelain altar and the diabetes…I do). Going through airport security without bottles of breastmilk or formula, without taking the baby out of the stroller, folding up the stroller, explaining the stroller travel bag (thank you Bugaboo for making a stroller travel bag look like a huge suitcase and creating problems for me at airports on two continents), carrying the baby through the metal detector, reassembling all the crap on the other side (laptop bag, meds, shoes, coats, reopening the stroller blah blah blah) was heaven. We didn’t even have checked luggage! So it was just take off the shoes, put the laptop in a container and the carryon…and whoosh straight through.
When I saw a family with a small crying child on our plane I felt a mixture of compassion (because BOY have I been there) and relief that it wasn’t me.
It was delightful to spend a six hour flight reading and watching my iPod and not trying to keep a one year old in one place and happy, or having her dead weight on my shoulder.
When the plane landed, we just took our carryon bags and left the airport. We got into a rental car without having to argue over which car seat is appropriate for our child and the hassle of installing it.
We got to our hotel and were able to nap without setting up a pack n play or worrying if it was Elanor’s nap time.
We went out for dinner and a concert without worrying about a babysitter who we’ve never met.
We came back after the concert, but could have stayed out as long as we wanted (the truth being as parents we just don’t have the stamina to stay out late).
I slept for 11 hours straight. Well, I woke up to pee, but really…11 hours straight.
We lazed around the hotel room. I got to use the ensuite jacuzzi tub for as long as I wanted.
We left for dinner, souvenier shopping and dashed through the airport to arrive at the gate just as they were boarding.
And once we arrived home….I couldn’t wait to see my little girl.
Don’t get me wrong…I called. I texted. We made sure to call around bedtime so we could recite Elanor the “Going to Bed Book” by Sandra Boynton. We almost missed our flight back home in our quest for the perfect souvenir to assuage our guilt.
I wouldn’t want to do it often, but maybe once a year? This baby free weekend thing? Rocks.
I couldn’t be prouder of Will Phillips if I were his mom…
He is refusing to stand for the pledge of allegiance because gays and lesbians do not have access to liberty and justice for all. He got in trouble for it, and is taking abuse from his peers about it, but still he refuses to stand.
As an atheist and someone who stands for the LGBT and pro-choice communities we will be talking about the pledge with Elanor from a young age. We will allow her to choose what she wants to do during the pledge, but we will make sure that she knows her options.
Tuesday I found myself the only mom in the room again, but in a much different way.
Elanor and I went to the mall to pick up the portrait art I’d bought as part of her first birthday picture package. When we arrived, it was pretty dead, and Elanor wandered over to the room where the last two times we’d gone to the studio, she’d had her picture taken, expecting to get it taken again.
“No, sweetie, no pictures today,” I told her.
“Actually, X is new here and needs to practice. We’ll trade you a free 8×10 for a photo session with X, if you think Elanor wouldn’t mind,” the manager said.
“Um, sure…” I said.
Never have I been so happy about my anal retentive need to dress my kid in a cute outfit head to toe (well, her sneakers aren’t that cute, but they’re there for orthopedic reasons, so we live with them). She had on a black turtleneck, a red sweater with ladybug pockets (Flitter Flutter line from Gymboree, found at a consignment store for $4…retail price last winter was something like $30) and matching jeans with little ladybug buttons down by the hems (same consignment store, maybe $5, retailed last winter for $30…I WIN at shopping).
So they do the 30 minute or so photo shoot with her, and then go back to select which photos they want to use as part of the whole “practice customer” experience. This usually takes around 10 minutes and they are right next door to the play area, so we head over there.
There are 3 other women whom I’d judge to be in their mid to late 20’s, possibly early 30’s. Four other small kids are running around. I assume they’re the moms, until I overhear the following…
“You’re full time?”
“Yeah. The dad’s a federal judge and the mom’s a trial lawyer, so they’re really busy.”
I continue to eavesdrop on the nannies, and hear about the dad who sees his kid maybe twice a week because he comes home after one am regularly. I hear about the mom who’s so into her job that the nanny is the one to get the kid up and put them to bed EVERY DAY. I hear about 60 hour weeks. I hear about parents who aren’t “that into” their kids.
Now, I read The Nanny Diaries, and I taught in at least one school where the per capita was high enough that I had one parent teacher conference where the nanny was brought in so that she “could be on the same page as us,” so I’m not naive enough to think that these parents didn’t exist. But looking at the brunette cherub of a little kid, I can’t imagine wanting to have so little involvement in my child’s life as the parents the nannies are describing.
I trade smiles with the nannies, none of whom have spoken with me as I pick up Elanor and take her back to the portrait studio to pick up my free 8×10…and the other pictures I couldn’t possibly walk out of there without (it’s not my fault…they put a SANTA HAT on my child….A SANTA HAT…and let her play with ORNAMENTS…) and gave her an extra tight hug to let her know how much I love her.
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Before anyone accuses me of slamming working moms…SO NOT what I’m talking about here. MY mom was a working mom. She worked full time almost my whole life (with a short exception when I was a baby, and obviously which I don’t remember) but she always made a point of making some time for me. Sometimes it was a weird time of day because she had a strange schedule (she’s always had “blue collar” jobs like cashier at a grocery store or cook at a fast food restaurant, and sometimes she took classes at a community college) but she was THERE.
I fully believe you can be a full time mom, even with a full time nanny, and be a super involved and caring mom. BUT when your nanny works from the time the kid wakes up until the time the kid goes to bed SIX days a week, ask yourself how involved you really are.
This past Wednesday I woke up and felt fine. I took Elanor to a free “check us out” class at a Little Gym near us, and then we went to lunch at an Indian restaurant across the street. About halfway through lunch my throat began to get that post-nasal drippy scratchy shit I’m going to have a sore throat tomorrow feeling. I tried to ignore it and finish running the days errands, which included dropping off a suitcase that delicate care and love from United baggage handlers had ripped a handle from for repair (thanks Samsonite 10 year warranty!). On the drive down to the Samsonite store, I began to feel progressively worse…like maybe I shouldn’t be operating heavy machinery at high speeds with my toddler in the backseat worse. By dinner my throat felt like I was chewing on cut glass for kicks and out of nowhere my ears, which generally don’t hurt unless I have an ear infection had begun throbbing.
It is shocking to say that I had trouble eating? sleeping? That I woke up at 5am and sat around waiting for urgent care to open up? That I burst into tears when I went there at 7 and found out that they only do bloodwork from 7-9am and don’t take patients until 9? That I went home and just huddled in bed until 9?
Verdict? Raging ear infection with a throat virus added in for kicks. And two hours of sleep. Oh, and could you wear a mask and not breathe on your kid? kthanxbai!
I am supremely lucky. Not only am I lucky enough have a great partner, but we have friends and family close by. Ravi took charge and asked his parents to take Elanor as I was not making any sort of good decisions. In my sleep deprived delirium I was certain I could take care of her…I’d just draw lips on the mask or something, RIGHT? When I got home with my meds, Elanor made a beeline for me. When Ravi took her to take her to his parents she began crying. I realize that it’s just normal separation anxiety, but I felt like crap (on top of feeling like crap) and I burst into tears too. Yeah, I could have taken AWESOME care of her that day.
The other big hurdle was that Elanor had her one year well baby visit that evening (our pedi has evening hours, which is great so that we can both be at the major visits). With the viral thing, obviously I couldn’t go. I hated not being there. Our pedi had a baby not long after E’s 6 month visit, so we hadn’t seen her in a long time and there has been a lot of change in the past 6 months. I wanted to make sure that all the bases were covered, and even though I emailed Ravi a long list of stuff, I didn’t feel comfortable with not being there…this is the first doctor’s appointment of her LIFE that I have missed, and it felt horrible.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been sick since E. There have been times when due to PPD or physical illness I have asked for and received some assistance with Elanor. But this is the first time where I have been so incapacitated that I couldn’t do the things that I see as part of my role as her mom, like be at her doctor’s appointments.
Yes, she is Ravi’s kid too. Yes, it was fine. Yes, he’s a smart man who even has a degree from MIT, so you’d think he could handle something like a 1 year well baby visit and he DID. But I was so wrapped up in my not being there and the self-flagellation of getting sick on the wrong day that I couldn’t see it and was upset that he didn’t get out the puppets and re-enact the whole damn appointment for me.
Short version? Being sick and having a little kid? SUCKS.
How do you guys handle it? What’s the worst part? Any suggestions for next time?
I’ve spoken before about how much Elanor LOVES the book Yummy Yucky by Leslie Patricelli (as well as Leslie’s other books).
Elanor reads to Owly that “Burgers are Yummy, Boogers are Yucky“
You can only imagine then how excited I am to be one of the hosts of Leslie’s virtual book tour this week! Her book The Patterson Puppies and the Rainy Day will be coming out next Tuesday and Higher Higher will be released as a board book (it’s currently out in hardcover) in February. My questions to Leslie are in bold and I hope you enjoy reading her answers as much as I did!
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Where do you get your ideas? My almost one year old loves your stories (she can point to a page and say NONO with me) and I love your sly humor (burgers are yummy, boogers are yucky). I also love that you aren’t part of the rhyming crowd.
Ha ha! Well, that’s funny because one of the books that I will be publishing in the next few years is a rhyming book! It’s called ‘Be Quiet, Mike!’ (though the title could change). It’s about a monkey who is a born drummer. I got the idea from my husband, a drummer, who’s parents were not too excited about the prospect of him playing the drums. Now, my son, Beck, is a born drummer. He was doing a beat with his binky when he was two! (Check it out!). When he was a toddler, I loved the noise of the drums, because I always knew what he was up to. Monkey Mike’s parents, however, do not like it so much!
Rhyming was what I aspired to do in children’s books from the get go. The first book I submitted to publishers in 1999, called ‘The Nut’, was a rhyming book. But the common response that I got from editors was, “can you re-write the story without the rhyming?”. I was told that the rhyming was driving the story, rather than the story driving the rhyme, which was very insightful, because it was absolutely true. So, at that point, I dropped rhyming. I think that the reason that publishers say they don’t want rhyming books is: 1.) Most of the rhyming isn’t good enough (Dr. Suess was, after all, a genius!); 2.) The rhyming isn’t necessary to the story, 3.) Rhyming doesn’t translate well into foreign languages. I still love rhyming, though, and a story about drumming lends itself to rhyme! Incidentally, when I first wrote the book (which has changed quite a bit since then), I wanted to include a CD with it. My husband and our friend, Chris Ballew (lead singer of the Presidents of the United States of America) turned my text into a song. My husband then, did a video for the song, using a stuffed animal we had on hand, to use in his music classes. (Check out the video!) I plan to include a link to an MP3 of the (revised) song that will accompany the published book.
Anyway, back to your question! I get my ideas from my inspiring children, my own childhood (which I remember in great detail), and from thin air. Sometimes ideas just pop into my head, usually when I am doing something else. I thought of the Patterson Puppies when I was walking down the street; I swear that they just appeared in front of me on the sidewalk – a fully formed dog family, personalities and all. The Birthday Box popped into my head while I was doing the dishes. I like to think of ideas like little butterflies constantly flitting around my head. When I pay attention and I see a pretty one and my job is to catch it. My butterfly net, of course, is my sketch book!
What inspires your artwork? My daughter particularly loves the artwork in Yummy! Yucky!
My drawing as a kid was first inspired by Mad Magazine. My favorite artists were Don Martin and Jack Davis. I used to copy their styles. I also was awed over Maurice Sendak’s illustrations, especially from ‘Where the Wild Things Are’. I love detailed pen and ink drawings. When I first started creating illustrations, pen and ink was my medium. But, my style was complicated and I needed to learn how to simplify it. I tried all sorts of styles over a number of years: watercolor, pencil, crayon, egg tempera, etchings colored with ink, oils, acrylics and pastels. I have also been drawing on the computer since I got my first Mac SE back in 1985, and have tried out many digital styles, as well. Then, after I had my first baby, I started reading toddler books. I loved the Maisy books, Todd Parr and Nina Laden’s board books. These inspired my current style. I ultimately achieved a style I liked using acrylics. I chose acrylics to paint with because they are bright, opaque, and dry fast . Now, I use a combination of techniques to create my books. First I sketch my drawings on paper, usually in ink, but sometimes pencil. When I get drawings that I like, I scan them into Adobe Photoshop and use my Wacom monitor (a monitor that I can draw on directly with a digital pen) to refine my sketches. Next, I use Adobe Illustrator to pick all the colors for my final art. Finally, I print these out and copy them onto canvas paper with acrylic paint. I do my final illustrations with medium body acrylics on canvas paper, prepped with gesso and a brown background.
My daughter, Tatum, providing inspiration for No No Yes Yes with my lipstick.
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Do you read your books to your own kids? If not, what do you like to read out loud to them?
I love reading my books to my kids! However, by the time one hits the shelves, my kids have read the original, helped me edit it, watched me paint it, and dealt with me and my deadline, so they are kind of done with it! Still, they humor me.
Reading out loud is one of my favorite things to do with my kids. We have a huge library of children’s books at this point. I love reading books where I can use funny voices and accents for the different characters. I read all seven Harry Potter books to my son with a British accent, albeit an extremely poor one.
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What can you tell us about Higher! Higher!
My daughter, Tia, dictated three of the seven words in the book to me from the swing set when she was about 18 months old (Swing!, Higher!, Again!). I made up the rest (Hi!, High Five!, Bye!). When she was swinging, we started pretending that she was going higher and higher with each swing, all the way to outer space. I don’t know how much she understood of that game, but I was having a fun time playing! I knew, as I pushed her higher and higher that I was conjuring up another book idea.
What’s up next for you?
My next book, The Patterson Puppies and the Rainy Day, will be released in a few weeks! This is the first book I’ve done based on an incident from my own childhood (the “incident” included spilled water, a blue carpet and two four-year-old imaginations!)
I am working on finishing up two new board books, starring Baby: ‘Tubby’ and ‘Potty’. (In fact, I’m going to paint right now — I have a deadline!) I also have a line up of other books that I plan to do with Candlewick, including my rhyming book (sorry!) and a middle grade novel, which is a whole new direction for me and I’m very excited about.
Thanks again to Leslie Patricelli for appearing, courtesy of Provato Marketing, for other stops on the tour please check www.provatoevents.com.
For the past 6 months or so I’ve been volunteering at Planned Parenthood. I am strongly pro-choice and I’ve wanted to be involved with them for years.
I’ve made the choice to not continue to do so, and it’s been one of the hardest decisions of my life. Not continuing to volunteer has made me feel like a failure, like I’m less dedicated to the cause, like I’m letting the right win.
As if I’m not who I thought I was.
Maybe I’m not.
I had been doing mundane stuff; filling and such. But I had started training to work a counseling line, which would include talking to women about the various abortion procedures offered by Planned Parenthood. I have always known what these procedures entailed. But talking them through now viscerally reminds me of the d&c I had…which was not an elective abortion of an unwanted pregnancy but an abortion following the fetal demise of a desperately wanted child. And while I thought I was ready to work that hotline and answer those questions, it turns out that I have not dealt with my grief to the point where standing up for Elanor’s and my own reproductive rights can outweigh the emotional pain of reliving that loss over and over.
I want to be strong enough to do it. But I’m not yet.
My best friend pointed out that it’s better for me to have realized this now rather than when I was on the phone with some poor lost girl looking for help that I was too broken to provide.
I believe in their mission. The women who work there are amazing. I admire them in their commitment, their ability to shrug off the protesters day after day, their passion for what they do. I would have felt honored to count myself among their number, and someday when I am stronger and more whole I hope to.
For now, I will choose not to volunteer there anymore, and look for other ways to help the cause. With my pen, with my wallet, and in small ways that I can do from my home. But for now, I will not volunteer until I have dealt with my grief and can offer them a whole person.
