Dear Roo-

A few days ago, officially, you turned TWO! Two years old! Your big day was folded into the craziest of months, installing the engine, getting underway for the first time, celebrating with grandparents. But what a week to be TWO! This morning you’re sitting in your usual spot on the settee, legs folded underneath you, your hands crossed on the table, watching Wallace and Gromit with Sophie. I will remember your wild sun-bleached hair, pink tie-dyed shirt. Your constant narration of the movie- “Dat Doggy! Dat Sheep! Dat a white sheepy!” You’ll drink from a sippy cup, which you’ve been relegated to on the boat, due to your insatiable urge to pour water from one container to another. You’re a candidate for Montessori school if there ever was one! But aside from the no-spill cups and the binkies that you horde like candy, there are very few remnants of babyhood in our lives. I can’t remember the last time you rode in a stroller or wore a diaper, or the last time I rocked you to sleep.

We celebrated three times, the first with Tabitha, your first friend, two days older than you. Our water girls played in the pool and dressed up, ate pink cupcakes and gummi worms. You savored the singing and the candles, but took so long to blow them out that you felt the heat of it on your nose. Now you decline all candle-blowing duties. Thankfully, Sophie is here to help!

A week later Goonie and JoePop came down and after swimming, we shuffled you upstairs for a bath while Sophie and I decorated the condo. You were pleased and surprised and approached the present-opening with the utmost seriousness. Your pink cake with weeping M&Ms was truly a work of art. But what we’ll remember most from the weekend was you pulling your trains around the round table in the living room hundreds and hundreds of times. The simplest kind of fun.

Your real birthday was a good old normal day on Rubi. Daddy worked on the running lights. We went for a nice swim, had a long nap, made pizza and surprised you with a donut and two candles. Simple and sweet. Happy TWO!

And now we’re off on a real adventure, Rose! In just a few days we set off for the great white north. We’ll sail from here to Fort Pierce and then on to Beaufort, North Carolina, and eventually to Boston and Maine. This fall will bring your first Transatlantic adventure (by plane, not boat!) and a few stamps in your passport. Then your first real winter! Last night we were out walking after dinner and it started raining- one of those tropical showers that can turn a dry parking lot into a lake in minutes. Suddenly there were puddles everywhere. You were in the very definition of your heaven, splashing and running, “swimming,” trying to catch water on your tongue. You are one for adventuring, never complaining about a fall or scrape suffered in the quest for fun. You are your Daddy through and through- confident, determined, stubborn, wicked smart. If we can keep the adventures coming, and manage your energy (and acrobatics), it will be a very memorable year indeed. John often wonders, looking at you, how his mother managed to raise five kids, and “this” as the youngest! It’s clear to me. I love you fiercely. Our frustrations and challenges are balanced by this crazy love for your happiness, goofiness, the crazy way you just emanate light and life. You glow, Rose. You truly do. You’re a charmer, even as you terrify us.

Thank you for being exactly who you are. So different from our first-born, who loves you so dearly, who says, “Rosy, I’m so glad I have a sister like you.” I know just what she means. A sister full of ideas, of fun, of mischief at times, but most of all, full of enthusiasm, curiosity, and love. You’re a beautiful girl, in so many ways. Holding you in my arms two years ago, I had no idea who I was holding. If I could have only imagined . . .

Happy, happy birthday Roo. We love you!

There has been a highlight. Our ladies. Our sisters. They have found each other. Today they were sitting at the table in their usual spots, Sophie surrounded by about six dozen toys and bits of jewelry. Rosy with wild, wild hair and the orbit of cracker crumbs that usually surrounds her. They were sharing watercolors and talking to each other like the Golden Girls. “Oh, I wike that color Sophia. It’s pretty, Sophia.” “Now wash your brush off, Rose. Don’t make them all brown, Rose.” Sophie was endlessly patient, even as Rosy made mud of a few colors. She even praised the concoctions- “That one’s better than the first yellow!” It was so unexpected, so perfect, I just sat and watched.

Whether it’s happenstance that they’ve discovered one another on the boat, whether it has anything to do with the close quarters of the hot months, or the lack of many other playmates- I have no idea. But I do know that they’ve slipped into a rhythm of true appreciation and true friendship. They look out for one another. Sophie puts Rosy’s shoes on when we leave the boat. Rosy, as stubborn as she is, is willing to share most anything in the world with Sophie. These past two years were hard, hard times for all of us. Adjusting to a colicky newborn, then managing the emotions of Sophie’s jealousy. Juggling the praise and “special time” they both needed. But we’ve somehow, on the eve of a second birthday, arrived at the good place. I can send them off together and know they will be a team. Today Sophie was trying to think of something she could play with Rosy. Her eyes got big and she laughed, “I know Rosy, we can MAKE MISCHIEF!!”

It is what I wanted most in the world for them. I hope it lasts. Something tells me that it will.

I read a caption on a photo of a little boy recently. His mom wrote about how fast the time was flying, how she wished she could slow it down. Her husband said something so perfect- “Remember, we made him for him. We didn’t make him for us.” We made them for who they are, and who they will be. We also made them for each other. Rose and Sophia.

We do our best to keep him warm, but he has been nothing but grumpy and bitey recently, leaving us with even less motivation to get him out and about. He is growing up, ready to fly and needs more space. Keeping him caged and swinging with the boat’s motion seems downright cruel. The pet shop owner says that he’s probably molting and will eventually be less grumpy. But our living situation isn’t changing soon, and for a bird who needs constant tropical conditions, we can’t justify making him more grumpy. He would frankly hate Maine.

I think both of us feel torn about sending Sophie the message that pets are temporary- will she wonder when the next one will get returned or passed on? But on the flipside, there’s the question of what is best for the animal. And being with us, in this case, is surely not the best situation for Mike. We’ve tried to emphasize the “this is what’s best for him” part, the unselfishness of her decision, but deep down we’re fairly selfish for wanting and keeping a bird in the first place, not to mention giving him up! Ah, the conundrums of parenthood . . . In the end he’s had a nice life with us and will have a nice life in petland, wherever that takes him. Perhaps I’m giving too much weight to the question of a bird. A birdbrain, afterall.

John broke the news to Sophie and she was bereft, until talk of a puppy emerged. A puppy in Maine, on land, not before. Ahem.
She wrote a letter to her friend Johnathan to tell him about Mike. It was her way of processing it. We drew a picture together. He was a lovely pet, I must say. And will be missed, by all of us. Even Rosy, who imitates his “shuffle dance” and calls him “Michael.” Mikey Mike, here’s to happy life where you can have a girlfriend and all the honey treats a bird deserves. We will not soon forget your green feathers and your close-quarters flights in the boat. Or the time you flew onto the neighboring catamaran, and then back, petrified of what you were capable of. Thank you for being Sophie’s first real pet.

I can guarantee he won’t be the last.

Twenty-two! Almost two! We get asked so many times how old our girls are that both of us have started saying “Two and four,” just to get closer to the point, faster. And two you are. I loved two the first time. I think I will love it again. All of the whimsy and greatness of toddlerdom. With a healthy dose of stubborn and perhaps a bit of obstinance, even if just for play. These days you often refuse a request, just to have a conversation. “Let’s put on your undies.” “No, I don wannu, I reading with Daddy and Sophie.” “Whatcha reading?” “Wion King!” Undies will follow. You just had something to say first.

Yesterday you helped mix up your first batch of Play-dough. Your first solo stirring experience, for at least five minutes until Sophie arrived on the scene. I sometimes forget that you need to be the number one participant in these adventures, just as Sophie was when she was nearly two. You were completely engrossed with the results for hours and then today I caught you making playdough “wife jackets” for your animals who were “sailing on boat.” Oh precious girl, how fast you grow.

Sophie sang a little song to you today, about how soon it will be your birthday and you will “talk better and have more hair.” True enough, littlest girl. You lie in my arms nearly every day and say, “I a big girl? No, I a baby. I a big girl?” I assure you that you can be my biggest littlest girl for as long as you want to be. Like I said in a letter to Sophie when she was growing faster than lightning, I will never wish that you were smaller, because each stage is better than the last. At each turn of the road I get more and more of who you are, and glimpses of who you’ll be. My feisty beast who can’t be contained in a restaurant booth. Your sing-song voice going every minute you’re not asleep. Rosy, terrified of the smallest bugs, but not of hanging from monkey bars at the park. So big and so little. So perfectly you.

Happy twenty-two, Roo. I sure do love you.
xo,
Mama

-More playsilks (we have blue and green), as they use them all the time, for capes, flags, blankets, burkhas.
-Ferby colored pencils. They are the best and John even found a wicked cool sharpener for them. Sophie uses them all day long. I need to get a couple of sketchbooks so cleanup is easier and they have an ongoing forum for the scribbling.
-Lyra crayons. Rosy uses these. Basically any writing device that can leave marks on its own when dropped onto a cushion has no business near Rosy.
-Cool workbooks and coloring books. Sophie’s ready for the cool Taro Gomi editions.
-Doll diapers. That fit Blabla dolls. Rosy loves to reenact our bedtime routines, complete with “nighttime diapers.”
-Books books books, especially paperbacks we can squirrel away.
-iTunes credits. Books on tape, TV shows, new music. We are addicted to iTunes. All of us.
-Stationary. My parents sent Sophie some stamps a few weeks ago and you’d have thought she’d received gold coins. This kid loves mail.

In other news, John just raised the mainsail. First time in who knows how many years. Talk about liberating . . .

I have read Siblings Without Rivalry and think the Farber/Mazlish way of communicating has a lot of merit. If only I could remember it in the moment. Buddhism for Mothers. The Creative Family, and Amanda Soule’s blog- though not necessarily advice-driven, I like the way she lives her life with her kids.

I am a big Mothering Magazine reader (duh) and soak up the stuff that reinforces what we’re already doing. Because four years of sleep deprivation and sleeping with babies is perhaps starting to get to me? How people have three and four children, I salute your stamina. I haven’t read a ton since the babes were born- I’m finally getting back to it now. I can get easily overwhelmed with the advice and should-be/could-be of parenting books. The internet is a blessing in the way it lets me find what I need, when I need it. It connects me with like-minded people even when I’m feeling a bit alone on the island here. Truly? I can’t imagine parenting without it.

Also on our shelves these days?
Sophie is heavy into The Tomten, a Valentine’s Day gift from us. She loves that story to no end. It’s a sweet one.
Rosy? Trucks, trucks, trucks. I love this Byron Barton book. We read it tonight, along with a fairly technical book about equipment. She looked up at me as she was nursing to sleeping and said, “Jackhammers, Mama. Jackhammers.”

We had a really wonderful Valentine’s Day- a gorgeous sunrise and then present opening in the morning light. Our Valentine mailbox was a big hit and something we’ll make a tradition. It doesn’t have to be holiday specific, but something about the special heart box and love letters combined to send Sophie into a writing frenzy. One of those moments when the best learning happens because you’re not trying too hard to make it happen. And it’s fun!

We drank coffee and streamed the America’s Cup race, only to see the USA prevail!! It was like watching sailing redefined- boats going 30 knots in a relatively small wind. They were flying, and it was just beautiful. What we wouldn’t give to see the next race held in a lovely place like Newport . . .

Sophie designated Valentine’s Day as Mike, the bird’s, birthday- which is brilliant because we’ll never forget it. Rosy has been singing Happy Birthday every day for a month now, so it was about time to put the song into action. They fabricated gifts from birdseed, toothpicks and play-dough (Rosy calls toothpicks, “pickles,” which I always want to remember). We made party hats. We made a great cake, of Sophie’s invention, that tasted like strawberry shortcake (but without whipped cream, which she’s decided she abhors, weirdo).

We took a walk to oversee the construction equipment in the neighborhood (more on that soon). We ate kale soup and homemade bread. Our friend brought us little gnomes made of Hershey kisses. We Skyped the grandparents in snowy Atlanta. We were sending and receiving the love. It was simply nice to put the boat work aside for one precious day and be us. It was a simple, good time.

Happy Nineteen Months! What a crazy awesome month it’s been for you. 2 more molars. Speaking in complete sentences, about everyone and everything. You have a little work to do in the pronouns department, but for now, nothing in the world is more eloquent than, “My do it? Rosy do it?” I love hearing myself in your language- the way you mutter, “Careful” to yourself all day long. The constant, “Happen? What happen??” And the joyous shout of “I take a WALK!” when I ask if you’re interested in a stroller ride (at 7AM).

Then there’s “Right here” and “Right back.” The other day we were having our special predawn time and I’d been clipping your toenails. When I was done, you grabbed the clippers for yourself and said to me, “Wait here. My right back.” You ran into the kitchen and hopped up on Sophie’s stool to get the dish sponge, which you proceeded to rub between my toes (ewww . . .) while tickling me with the clippers. A baby who administers pedicures. There is simply SO much going on in your head, and in your world. It’s hard to keep up.

The big deal this month- the potty! Next week will ostensibly be our first week living on the boat as a family of four. Karma is truly catching up to me, as you decided to bless me with the gift of “peepeeinthepotty!” What a glorious achievement. I knew you were ready physically and when words started pouring out like wildfire, I knew you were ready intellectually. So here we are a week later and it’s like old hat. Two girls, two potties, one very happy mama.

The tiny moments I want to put in a time capsule for when you’re fourteen and threatening to drive away in the family car:
-The way you touch your nose with your finger and scrunch your face and say, “Shhhh.”
-On New Year’s Eve at Diana’s when you looked over at her sleeping pup and said, “Doggy sleeping. Shhh, doggy quiet.”
-The M added to everything- Mogurt, Morange, Moga (yoga), Melmo. I wonder how long that will last.
-The tippy toe dancing and insistence on being a ballerina just like Sophie. This weekend you were on her bike saying, “Rosy the princess . . . Rosy the PRRRINNNCESS!”
-Your mad love for Tubtubs, Caillou, Brown Bear, Bus Stops and Choochoos.
-It must have come from the Once Upon a Potty book, but the way you gasp when a box comes in the house and say with such excitement, “A new present!”
-The demands for “Booby ON THE couch?” This evening your Dad and Sophie were playing hide-and-seek and you were nursing. You looked up to count- “1,2,3,4,6,7,Booby?” You count everything, with a tiny finger pointing, always, “2,3,4 BEARS!”

I wish I could bottle it, freeze it, distill some of its essence. It is all so lovely right now. Watching the silly, charming, SMART you emerging by leaps and bounds. What a goofball, happy and lovely as the day is long. Every day less of a baby, yet still wanting to snuggle into that cradled spot where you can nurse, “on the couch!” a few times a day. We are at such a crossroads in your life. The moment between baby and kid. Between part of me and all of you. We are all happier people because you make us smile so many times a day. Intense and light all at once, silly and cerebral, joyous through and through. I love you to no end.

Here’s to our adventures ahead. I can’t wait!
love,
mama

A friend asked last night which children’s book authors I’d recommend for their expanding library. Specifically, she wanted stuff without too many words and lovely pictures, which rules out the beloved Frances series and William Steig (love love Doctor Desoto).

But we can provide a list. Here goes.
I complied all of the below titles (and toys) here at Amazon- you can even shop through us!

Byron Barton makes great graphically illustrated books. Rosy loves Dinosaurs, Dinosaurs.
Taro Gomi is one of our all-time favorites. Especially My Friends and Bus Stops.
Anything by Peter McCarty is beautiful and simply worded.
Rosemary Wells. The Yoko books are some of our favorites.
The Ella books by Carmela D’Amico are a bit more involved, but still simple and sweet.
The Blue Kangaroo series by Emma Clark
The classics by Maurice Sendak- Wild Things, the Night Kitchen, the Nutshell Kids. We love them all.
Vera B. Williams and Julie Vivas are my other favorites.

Graduating from pure picture books, our favorites have been:
The Little Bear series by Else Minarik
Arnold Lobel’s Frog and Toad series, and Mouse Tales.
For old classics, I love Ruth Krauss and Crockett Johnson, and Robert McCloskey.
And for Sophie, the Angelina Ballerina series continues to resonate.They’re short enough that I don’t mind wading through them night after night.

We are bringing some books to the boat, storing some more, and will be relying heavily on libraries along the way. Our toy collection has also been pared down to the select special things and costumes. The most popular toy in our collection, hands down, has been the Haba doctor kit (at far left in the picture). We had a plastic one but after the crazy toxic plastic scare a while back, I tried to replace our best things with “better” versions. The Haba kit is a little collection of vials and bottles with cork tops. Nothing like the American kits with blood pressure cuffs and such. But it gets played with every day. They love it. We recently added some elastic and triangle bandages, and a real stethoscope (so cheap!) and it’s gained a new lifespan.

Their other favorite? The dragon. We have read and listened to Puff the Magic Dragon dozens of times over the past few weeks. Rosy calls any lizard or crocodile she sees a dragon- today we visited the pet store and she almost fainted at the sight of the iguanas in the glass boxes- “DRAGONS!! BABEEEE DRAGONS!!!!”

Happy reading, and playing!

Potty Time! She waddles into the bathroom every ten minutes to sit. No luck yet, but I’m proud of her determination. I decided to try again this morning after she peed in her diaper and started crying, saying, “I peepee in potty!!! Wanna peepee in potty!” She gets it, she really does. Now to make that body work for her . . .

Bloom did a nice piece on why she homeschools her 4 kids. I’m looking forward to future installments and encourage anyone on the fence about it, or curious about it, to check her blog out. It’s lovely. We get the, “Is she in school yet?” question about five times a week. Sometimes I just say, “Yes, in our own way,” because truly she is. If you define school as a place to learn, we are all in school, in our own way.