Princess Sita

Curious Girl came up with the title, and she wishes this post could be written in cursive. So use your imaginations on that score. This post is inspired by Librarian Mom and her princess-loving daughter, who got it from Alkelda the Gleeful, whose blog I've never read but will now start because how could anyone not love a name like Alkelda the Gleeful?

We're off to househunt (and me to do some consulting) in Germany! So wish us good househunting vibes, and here's a quick guest blog by Curious Girl herself, with help from Mama.

What do you like about princesses?

They're girls. They're my favorite thing in the whole wide world, because they are all my favorite princesses.

What do princesses do?

Dance.

When you pretend to be a princess, what do you like to do?

Dance. I was Ariel last night and I was swimming with Snow White's baby sister, and she was scared. I said, "It's OK, do you want your sister to come with us?" and she said "goo goo, yes." And then she changed her mind and so Ariel and Baby Sister went swimming alone, and then we did a pattern, and I got so tired swimming I almost fell right down when I was swimming I was so tired. But I didn't! And Phew! That's good.

When I'm Belle, Belle and Cinderella both live in a cottage together. We saw ABC things all over the place. We, Belle and Cinderella, thought the people who do the ABCs a lot, this would be their cottage, so we would take a little walk and went out for a walk in the woods, and we saw candies everywhere! And that was the track. So we picked them up and followed the candy track, and always picked them and picked them and picked them, and when we got home, there was the ABC girl. And we were like "Is that you, ABC Girl? Can we go to your house?" And her hair was all fancy just like ours. She was going back home and she didn't see much candy because we hid it all in her house so she got lost. And that was the track to her house. She was lost almost forever, but not forever, finally. She didn't get home in time for supper but after everyone was asleep and all the wolves and scary things were out, she was home.

What do princesses do that is good?

They kill bad guys with their magic powers. They are kind, isn't that good? They don't be scary, and that is so good.

What are some princess stories that you like?

Cinderella and Belle and Sleeping Beauty, Mulan. Editor's note: we don't actually read a lot of princess stories around here--you can get a good sense of Curious Girl's princess play ideas from her answers so far. But I'm looking forward to her being old enough for Patricia Wrede's Dealing with Dragons and its sequels. Cimorene, Wrede's heroine, is a kindred spirit to Elizabeth, The Paperbag Princess, with a much longer plot and series. And Lauren Child's Princess and the Pea is beautiful, although the humor is a bit over CG's head at the moment.

Anything else you want to say about princesses?

Once upon a time, we were in Disneyland, and when we were in Disneyland, we saw princesses. We went to Belle's area, and there were some princesses I haven't met yet (ed. note: Jasmine and Mulan) and I was so excited to see them. We met each other, and we met each other again at lunch. I liked talking to Belle, and Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella told us stories.

I lost two teeth. I wish I could draw the tooth on the computer. (ed. question: when will Blogger add the KidPix tool?)

More Things You Missed in Sunday School

We interrupt the Super Goal to bring you the latest in creative retellings of Biblical material.

The scene: the stair landing, with Curious Girl coming down from upstairs. I had sent her to get the animal or doll she wanted to sleep with while I went downstairs to get the new book she'd gotten as a yay! baby! gift at the Super Goal/Welcome Baby party we'd been to earlier. I'm coming back up, and she's just arrived on the landing.

CG: Look, Mama! I've got her! Baby Miriam! (she strokes her Baby Miriam doll, which is a doll that came with a Moses basket, except that we call it a Miriam basket, since it holds her Baby Miriam).

Me: Hi, Baby Miriam!

CG, gesturing with her hands: Mama, this can be the water, and the basket it in it, and I find her! She smooths the water and puts the basket in the water. Oh, look, a baby! It's crying. Baby, it's OK. I'll take care of you. And she picks up the basket and takes the baby upstairs. Baby Miriam, it's OK. You're going to be a baby forever, and I'll take care of you.

Of Princesses and Pretending

Curious Girl is quite taken with princesses, something I expected to have more angst about than it turns out I do. We've tried to expose her to a range of toys and games, including many gender-neutral games, but she likes playing dress-up in fairy and princess outfits. She looks adorable in them. Politica and I haven't bought her many--they've been gifts or hand-me-downs for the most part--but we have gotten a few Waldorf playsilks or pieces of cool material to go with them. Those are handy for playing wedding, it turns out, a game I find endlessly fascinating for what it reveals about Curious Girl's emotional needs and imagination.

Politica and I have been quite slow to supply her with princess narratives, however, and that's what makes her princess play so darn engaging (I think). Only in the past six months (she's recently turned 5) has she seen any of the D!sney movies (Snow White and Beauty and the Beast so far), and we've never read her any versions of the stories. She's had a princess dish set for a while, and that's contributed to her notion that Cinderella, Ariel, Snow White, Belle, and Aurora all live together in a castle, and somehow occupy the same social universe even now that she's aware that they have their own stories, friends, and partners. Last night, CG was Cinderella all during dinner, and this morning, she was Snow White. In the car, she was Belle ("Well, Snow White told me I must come visit you! Where's Curious Girl?" she said. I invented an imaginary CG to the right of her car seat and they had a nice little chat.). The Beast was busy ("He had a Beast meeting. He's really nice, you know. Maybe he can join us for dinner.") but Belle and I had a great time talking together, listening to 1776. Belle told me that she and the Beast love to dance, and that they had a party once with John and Abigail Adams. "They are so fun!" Belle declared. 'We danced all night."

So princesses, not so bad, when they're dancing with John and Abigail, talking about how things are on the Adams family farm during the Constitutional Convention (and as a side note, I realized today that CG's habit of saying "Incredible!" is likely a homage to JA in 1776). Curious Girl's princess play--although it is starting to encompass the romantic elements of the stories--focuses on friendships, kindness to animals, and relations between mother-figures (real or imaginary) and children (real or imaginary). Her pretend weddings involve getting animals dressed up to be family members and guests, and receptions at which everyone is dancing with their mothers. More frequently, she wants to play "let's pretend I just got married," which involves conversations about plans to have children (adopted or in the belly?) and relationships with mothers (who's coming to visit and when?) and sometimes adoption: the other day, she pretended to be my birthmother coming to visit me. She didn't want to say much while she was being my birthmother (other than that she was staying for a long time, wasn't it nice, and that my mother knew she was there), but Politica and I thought it was a pretty good move in her own pretend play.

Pretending is a way of making her own universe. I know she will grow beyond some of this, and I will miss the permeable relationship between reality and fantasy that swirls around us now. As an adoptee, CG will always have a fantasy past: we can't give her all the details I know she will want, and she will always have to balance her rational intellect and her imagination as she makes sense of her past. Just as she will always balance her intellect and her heart as she forges a future with me, Politica, and her friends. Playing princess, playing bride....she's playing her way to her grown-up self. I'm glad I get to play along, for now.

The Summer of Blessed Events with My Favorite Micromanager

• Is it cheap to use lists to get back in the game after a blogging silence?
• Maybe so, but what better way to offer teasers for half-written posts that I'd like to think you'd be interested in.
• Before this list gets too long, let me urge anyone with Massachusetts connections to make contact with their state legislators to protect marriage equality in that state. If you live in Massachusetts, urge your legislator to vote against the proposed referendum on marriage; if you know people in Massachusetts, urge them to call. It's not a good idea to put civil liberties up for popular vote. Mass Equality has an easy-to-use site to see whom to contact. Families like ours--children like Curious Girl--deserve the protection of family law. Please call.
  
• I just got back from an academic conference of department chairs. Members of my subfield were pretty regularly characterized in anecdotes as being less scholarly, less flexible, and less understanding that members of subfields more clearly central to the history of the discipline. I'm not sure this is a good way to create a path for the future of our discipline. I wrote a lot about that on the evaluation form.
• But now I better understand what one of my predecessor-chairs told me once (a predecessor from another subfield that is similarly not-so-central to the history of our discipline, at least as how that history is chronicled by those who fancy themselves central to it): a subdisciplinary listserv was awash in congratulations after news of my predecessor's chairship was announced, with other members saying what a wonderful advance it was for the subfield. At the time, I thought "well, aren't things changing? Here in our department we are pretty well integrated." But in the field at large, apparnetly not.
• This is, perhaps, an example of the inflexibility some of the other conferees were noting.
• Curious Girl is, however, nothing if not flexible, in a "let's do that again and again and again" kind of way. She has invented a number of great new car games
1. H@nn@h Matanna. Inspired by the girl-idol of that name (although some googling tonight suggests that CG is confusing HM with H!llary Duff), this game starts off "Who wants to be Hannah?....OK, I"ll be Hannah, you be Matanna." It requires a microscope, er, microphone, for Hannah, which can be easily made from a magazine or other travel literature picked up at a rest stop. Hannah starts, and the call-and-response singing begins. Some times it's real pop singing (Hey everyone, get up and dance...), sometimes it's narrative (We're in the car and I see a cow...) and sometimes it gets all meta (Why are you singing a short song?). Continue until Hannah says the show is over.
   
2. Kid. Who wants to be CG's favorite teacher? Who wants to be her elder daughter? Who wants to be her dog? Let the roleplays begin! This game can take a family of three for miles and miles.
   
3. Teacher. A variant on Kid, and a variant on games of school everywhere, this one has actual characters from CG's class. Guess who gets to be CG's favorite teacher every time?
   


• Curious Girl has been in a pool three times in the past two days, and in none of those pool times did she need to use the bathroom and in none of those times did she cause the pool to be closed for chemical treatment. This is the Blessed Event of the summer, an event I was never sure would come.
  
• CG has been sleeping with the aquarium that used to hang in her crib (something like this) as part of reconnecting with her babyhood since turning five. Last night, she said it was her computer and that she would use it to distract her while I gave her eardrops. "I have to order a book," she said, and typed Stellaluna into the computer. Then she told me I could be the bookstore, and I had to wrap the book with paper, dab it with glue, and wrap it up and send it to her (while she used her computer to transmit more info to me like her name and address). When the book arrived, she said, "Honey! I got you a book," and she read me Stellaluna. "The end," she finally prounounced. "Now you read it for real." And I did. After my "the end," she said, "I want to talk to Stellaluna," and had an adorable conversation about how she read Stellaluna at her new school, and whehter Stellaluna wanted lots of fruit to eat.
• Tonight she watched Star Wars on her computer. She created characters using the various buttons on the aquarium and asked for my help in naming them all. "Who's going to be the green guy? with the ears?" Really, she could be a very happy girl doing nothing but pretending all day long. Why is there nothing about pretending in discussions of kindergarten readiness?
• CG is very in charge of her pretending. Today, she walked me through a long script in which I was the mom, she was a dog, and my imaginary kid wanted a dog at the pet shop. So I put the kitty litter back, and got the white dog. I'll let you all guess what I really bought at the pet shop. I'll also let you all note who has clearly been paying attention to the fact that one of the ways I help CG work through problems is by setting up narrative play space. I guess she figures you can use the same technique on her mama.
• Kindergarten readiness has been well-discussed around the blogosphere lately. I wish it settled my own choices about CG.
• I love the comments on my last post: thanks for sharing our enthusiasm for Panda World. Everytime we got stuck in a traffic jam or slowdown, CG would say, "Oh no! We're stuck in Panda World!" I am very grateful for readers who put up with my erratic rhythms.
  

Very Light Blogging

• Dental angst, the holiday weekend, and a quick turnaround time on an important task I'd never done before have made me tired.
• Curious Girl has a friend over now. They're getting married, which involves lots of dress up clothes, a very large stuffed bear (who I think is actually the partner, since one of the girls seems to be a newborn baby), fancy music (Vivaldi), and money for the trip to the store after the wedding. CG loves to play getting married, and I am mightily amused by the things she seems to think people do immediately after the ceremony. In the tub, she often wants to play that she's just gotten married, and is now at the gym working out. Her partner is invariably unavailable (usually having been hurt in a car crash and thus needing hospital treatment, although sometimes merely at home because of a cold). It's all about the long dress.
• My medical phobias are really bizarre. Saying calming thoughts to myself makes my stomach hurt. I know this is irrational. But knowing it is irrational does little to address it, which is unlike how the rest of my life works, where rationality reigns.
• A favorite observation of one of my college friends was "there are few situations in life that can't be improved with either a nap or a good sandwich." Looking at a fresh loaf of whole wheat bread cooling on the stove, I have to agree (even with an angsty stomach ache).
  

Dear Mr. Adams, or The One Not Paying Attention to the World

Political socialization is occurring around here. Last week, Curious Girl saw a New York Times with a photo of President Bush on the cover. She stopped, cocked her head, and clucked, "Oh, Mama. Look at that. He's the one who doesn't listen. Mmm, mmm, mmm." "Mama, he needs a new job, right?"

This morning, she wanted a placemat at breakfast, and ran over to get one from the drawer. She came back carrying the president placement. "Will you tell me about all of them?" Sure thing, I said. "That's President Bush. He doesn't listen. That doesn't make you happy, Mama. We're going to get a new president." She pointed to several more presidents: Bill Clinton, then George Washington up top ("the very first one? is he dead now?"), John Adams ("For real did he marry Abigail? Is she dead? is he dead?"), Thomas Jefferson ("Violin?"), James Monroe, John Quincy Adams. Musically-minded readers will be catching our fondness for 1776 here (it was the first--and actually only-- movie I saw at Radio City), which makes John Adams more of a real figure to Curious Girl than he might be to most other five year olds. (here I pause for a small moment of disbelief at being the parent to a five year old.)

"John Adams!," she says. "John Adams! Mama, help him talk." I oblige. "Yes, Curious Girl, good morning."

"John Adams, this (pointing) is President Bush. He doesn't listen, so we are going to get a new president."

At this point, I realize I have no idea how to predict what John Adams' political views might lead him to believe about the Bush presidency. So I settle for "Well, I hope you like the new one."

"I like Hillary Clinton. She listens. That's good. He doesn't listen. He is the one not paying attention to the world. And that's not good!"

John Adams agreed: it was important for the president to pay attention to the world.

"John Adams! There is another Adams (points to JQ Adams). What was his job? Oh, I know, President, like you!" (giggles)

Then she moved down to Bill Clinton. "I like Hillary Clinton." Bill told CG that he helps Hillary as she runs for president, and that he thinks Hillary is very smart. At this point, CG's political stamina had run out, so she changed the subject, and told Bill all about how she was taking her first trip to the dining hall at school, and reviewed the rules of being in the dining hall with him.

In the car, she asked for 1776, and identified all the singers. "She sings so beee-yoo-tifully," she sighed about Abigail Adams' first lines. After her bath tonight, though, she wanted me to be John Adams and she was Abigail. "The children have the flu," she informed me, and we had to drive them to the hospital so their broken parts could be fixed.

Not Four

On the Eleventh, and penultimate, Day of Four , I think about what makes four

We are three in our family, not four, but Curious Girl is convinced she is getting a baby sister soon. From the Tooth Fairy, no less. She is quite insistent that the Tooth Fairy brings " a real baby sister." (Wikipedia gives no hint of this power, so clearly, it's not true. I have to say, googling the tooth fairy brings up an interesting array of sites, like this one. But I digress.)

Curious Girl would love a little sister. We have a little sister around the house most days--sometimes the stuffed hippo with a Christmas hat (currently wearing one of CG's baby onesies) is pressed into service as the baby sister, sometimes it's a stuffed cat, rarely the doll, and sometimes the baby is invisible. Sometimes CG is the big sister, sometimes she is the mama, and sometimes she wants me to be the big sister along with her, or to play mama to her and the baby. Other days, CG is the big sister while baby sister is out at school or the babysitters. And in all this play, Curious Girl is invariably solicitous, generous and creative. She feeds baby, takes baby to the doctor, transforms herself into a surgeon to place a feeding tube in baby, or stays with the baby the whole time while some unfortunate task must be completed. It's great.

Politica and I didn't go into our adoption intending to have one child, or any particular number of children. We'd thought about adopting two at once, very briefly, and decided that was not a good move for the children who would be involved. But we never had a vision of how our family would be sized. We each have small families (one sibling each); I'm close to my sister, but Politica's relationship with her sister is really an argument for having only one child. This is an argument that doesn't have much cultural credibility; as soon as Curious Girl turned two, people started asking when we were going to adopt again, or when she would have a sibling. (Some of those conversations have included lectures on the Importance of Siblings or the Problems of the Only Child, which I appreciate about as much as all the advice I ever got from relative strangers telling me my child would eat when she was hungry enough. Thanks, no.)

We've thought about siblings for Curious Girl, other children for us. It's tempting. Parenting Curious Girl is one of the very best parts of my life. I love the family we have become and the way all three of us come to know each other. I love the Politica I am coming to know in this family, and I like myself these days. Part of it is maturity, part of it is effective therapy in my thirties, but a lot of it is parenting. I love it. So it's tempting to do it some more, again.

But I don't think that's in the cards. When I write down or talk about the reasons, it sounds so cold and calculating. But basically, it boils down to the fact that I like the family we have. We're busy, but not too busy. Politica and I work, and I like that we work. We have time for Curious Girl, and I like that, too. We have a pretty good balance between all of us, and it works.

When I try to explain the specifics more, I fear that I sound like I'm saying "I just don't want to cut back on my work to have another child." The truth is, I don't want to cut back on my work. I like that Politica and I each have our own health insurance, each have our own independent paycheck. That makes our family more secure, espeically given the hazy legal standings our relationship has here. But it's not just the money, it's the pleasure of my career. I like what I do, and I think it makes a small bit of difference in the world. I like what it gives me. I also like my CG-days, the day I have spent home with her since I went back to work after her first 9 months home. I like being home, I like being at work.

But it's hard to be firm about deciding to stop. Sometimes I think if we had more money, if I were ten years younger, if Politica had fewer chronic health problems, if, if, if, perhaps I'd have another child. (And oddly, if it became possible to adopt one of CG's biological siblings, assuming there are any and are available for adoption, we'd add to the family in a heartbeat: not sure what that does to all the above arguments or my sense that families are chosen, but there it is.) But if, if, if....then I'd be a different person. I wouldn't be me, here, now.

And for all the reasons that it may be good for Curious Girl to have a sibling, it is also good for her to have a balanced, happy family as she grows.

And so for now, we are three, with a fourth joining us in play. I think we'll stay that way, and most days, I'm so sure that's the way to be. Some days, I'm sad about that; some days, I'm not sure. And maybe that's the way of it, that no matter how many children we have, there's a sense that perhaps one more might be fun. I've read a lot of posts about people who wanted another child and couldn't have one, and fewer posts about how people know when their families are done growing. I'm not sure I'm explaining our choices very well here, but I hope to hear a few more stories from others. How do you know when the family is the right size?

Election Barbie

Tomorrow is Curious Girl's half birthday. When she wakes up, she'll be four and a half. I made the mistake of almost revisiting the debacle of the last x-year-old kiss, mentioning that tonight was our last four-and-a-quarter-year old kiss and the morning would bring the first four-and-a-half-year old kisses. This led her to be anxious enough about the notion that she wanted to pretend. "You be me, Mama, and I'll be you." OK. So I said, "Mama, how old am I?" "you're four and a quarter, honey. And this is your last four and a quarter kiss." "Mama, will there be more kisses?" I asked. "Oh yes, honey! Don't be scared," she told me. "Barbie will come. Barbie Election will come, because you're four and a half. Here are two kisses, for special. And two hugs."

The wonderful, adorable CG is back again today: worried about getting older, excited about the prospect. "I can't wait for my half birthday, " she told me as I kissed her goodnight.

Barbie Election. Election Barbie. I'm quite amused by this notion--planted, in part, by Politica's own electioneering, and by the fact that we've been telling CG that she would be four and a half around Election Day. On Wednesday, Curious Girl and Politica went out walking with the Democratic candidate for prosecutor, and CG is quite taken with the candidate. She claps when we see yard signs. And she loves going with us to vote. So what would Election Barbie do? Be a judge? A voting enthusiast? A debate moderator?

Phantom, LG, and Baby Blue went out to a political rally this week, followed by very amusing family political conversations. Curious Girl has been asking me lately, "Why is President Bush a bad president?" "He doesn't listen well and makes bad choices," I told her this morning. "Oh, that's bad. We don't like that," she said. But that didn't stop her from from sending him a card last President's Day, to wish him a happy president's day and tell him that she wants to visit the White House and visit his dog (the dog having been featured in the Weekly Reader at school). He recently wrote back, and (surprise!) she got the same letter Mermaid Girl did. Plus a picture of the President and the First Lady. CG was happy enough to get mail, but it was a remarkably non-responsive letter. It's hard to see how such vapid responses will motivate political participation.

I think I could get behind Election Barbie, holding candidate parties, and get-out-the-vote rallies. That's my kind of Barbie.