How Low Can You Go?

Left: week 37; Right: week 39. 

Temperature: 92. Heat index: 101.

It's time. 

Remembering My Great North American Grandpa

It's been almost 10 months since I've written, my longest lapse yet. And quite a shame really, because I had a lot of fantastic posts brewing in my head. That was just the usual procrastination. But then, a really sad thing happened, and I lost my narrative voice for a while.

My Great North American Grandpa Abe passed away suddenly in January, and frankly, I just haven't had it in me to share quirky stories and capture the ironies of everyday life (something my Grandpa Abe did so well).

More than 6 months have passed now, and while my mom, dad and I talk about my  Grandpa Abe daily, slowly, my voice is coming back. So I decided —before things get crazy as I welcome my baby sister into the world — that I'd bring everyone up to speed on my goings on since I started pre-school last fall, which feels like light years ago. (Consider this my own version of nesting, pre-labor.)

I'll treat this as a whirlwind near-year-in-review, digging into the recesses of my brain to pull out the highlights, captured in reverse chronological order below (so scroll way down if you want to experience the year in the order it actually happened, starting with the entry called Fall!).

But first, a little space devoted to my biggest blog promoter and fiercest champion, my beloved Great North American Grandpa. I sure do miss you, Abe, really a whole lot.  

My First Wedding!

I got to be a ring bearer (read, wedding crasher among legit nephews) in the wedding of dear friends of my parents, Mel and Peter, in the Connecticut Berkshires last weekend.  Standing 2 cm dilated in 90-degree heat and in 4" heels (*her own doing, not the bride's), it's a small wonder my mom didn't go into labor. Thankfully, she stayed in one piece. And so now we wait for my baby sister's arrival. Any day. 

prepping back in Brooklyn with my stylist

To everyone's great relief, baby sister stayed put that night...

Open House

I won't even go into the real estate woes that have plagued us all Spring. Let's just say the Open Houses (that are FINally over) were incredibly disruptive to my Sunday routine. This lovely visitor neither bought nor bid on our place. But she clearly ate her share of cookies.

I'm 3!!!

First Kiss

Speaking of milestones... We finally did it. Our first kiss.

We both played nonchalant, and then I just went for it. 

She seemed pretty happy afterward. And best part, no commitment. 
Everything is still cool between us.

Milestones

I've become quite taken by a work of literary genius called Potty, by Leslie Patricelli. It's had a rather transformative effect on me. This masterpiece, which straddles something between fiction and nonfiction —combined with Ira's discipline and my parents' anamolous adherence to rules this time—has helped me master potty training rather quickly. And it's been a real game-changer in our house. The most obvious effects being the reprieve on my parents' wallet and the lack of a stench coming from the diaper genie.  Now, I go all the time in the big potty and wipe my tush all by myself. And in a pinch, my dad even taught me how to water hydrangea and other flora along 6th Avenue in the Slope. (Note: I had a photo of my very first cahkie, but my editors removed it given the high volume of traffic on this blog.) The same week I kicked the diaper, I also kicked the pacie. Go big or go home, I say.

Graduation

Progress. Apparently, I'm finding my own voice (my teachers just figured this out?). But I concede on fine motor skills- they're not as fine as they could be. And my parents are still scratching their heads over the fact that I can be a quiet observer, particularly given my unofficial role as class clown during the graduation concert (someone had to do it).

Spring

Shortly after my return from Oz in January, things pretty much went to hell in a hand basket. But even amid the sadness and grief, there were moments of levity. I mean, I hate to say it, but for me personally, going home for Grandpa Abe's funeral was probably one of my most gratifying visits to Memphis... so many family and new friends around, and they all seemed to find great comfort being around me.  It was amazing to see how loved and adored my Great North American Grandpa was. 
Back home in Brooklyn, with the passage of the seasons, things have slowly gotten a little brighter... (even my visit to the doctor was fun.) And my experience with Super Soccer Stars with my all my friends in the nabe was just epic. I basically haven't taken off my T-shirt since.

Meeting my Uncle Muni - only 89 years difference between us.

Super Soccer Stars! A Spring Sunday ritual.  And I haven't stopped talking about it since.

December Down Under

Had I been at the top of my game, each of these photos could have had (and did, indeed, warrant) an entry unto itself, but in the interest of efficiency and beating the labor clock, I'm going to summarize our trip to Oz (+ the jetlag fallout) in a tight, pithy paragraph.

It was my second trip across the world in as many years, and early followers of this blog may recall my first stint, in which I slept 40 minutes (out of 27 hours) on the way there, and a whopping 4 hours on the way back.  Suffice it to say, my parents were facing this trip with some trepidation. But my new addiction to Dora and the iPad (which proved to be a more effective sedative than the black-market drug my parents slipped me) gave them a few more hours of shut-eye this time around. Of course, the downside to traveling as a seasoned toddler vs an infant is that you're more attuned to jet-lag. And I can't lie — it was a bitch in both directions, but reconnecting with my Aussie kin (esp my cousins) made it all worth it. It was an eye-opening journey on multiple levels — from my cousin Willow's 4th birthday party, the most well-organized event I've ever witnessed that ran for 1.5 hrs sharp with not a detail (nor sugar high) missed, to visiting my Aunty Donna's school, where the all the kids had heard about me for months and just ogled and hugged me and couldn't get enough, from bonding with my Big Buba (that'd be my great grandmother) to my newfound fascination with Meblourne trams. (For those who don't know what a tram is, it's basically the lovechild borne out of the union between a bus and a choo-choo-train.)

Hanukkah After-Party

Who knew my hallway could be so much fun?

Marathon! (again)

I have no idea what they were smoking, but my mom and dad decided to do it again. Another marathon - this time in Philly. It's no New York (which I watched with my friends from Ladder 122  this year), but my mom beat her record time. And my dad, well, he finished.

Happy Halloween!

One of 893 Thomases spotted at the annual Park Slope Halloween Parade (but the only one accompanied by Sir Toppen Hat.)