proud mama, "keep on rollin'."

I know that one of the worst things you can do for your child (and probably, therefore, yourself) is to fill them with ideas about what you think they should be when they grow up. I recently heard a comic relating the story of telling his mother that he wanted to be a comedian, "That sounds like you said lawyer?" she replied.

So, while I know that I shouldn't hold out hope that Eleanor is going to become a famous pastry chef and teach me a thing or two in the kitchen, seeing her handle a rolling rolling pin for the first time (like a pro, I tell you) certainly made my heart swell with pride.

Today, playdough. Tomorrow, French Culinary Institute?
-kjd

fort and beans

Our life here often requires adaptability (as I've written about) and creativity (which feels so much like adaptability lately). Without playgrounds, malls, community centers, parks, walking trails, bike trails, or countless other "things" we might find to amuse ourselves on a lazy Saturday afternoon we are often forced to improvise.

Last weekend, tired to visiting the same two (small) playgrounds and having finished all the groery shopping we needed to do (which least gets us out of the house), dad (aka. Tim) came up with two new ideas: fort building and bean tossing.

Both turned out to be great fun.
-kjd
 

beginning construction.

stretching the sheet.

helping.

supervising.

completion.

inside.

sorting and pouring.

tossing and running.

dads are awesome.

hippie days are here again

When Tim's parents came, they came bearing gifts. Many, many wonderful gifts. Included in the stash were several new articles of clothing- some for me, but mostly for Eleanor. Probably to no one's surprise, she's growing and this means growing out of things, so the other day I pulled out these new pants for her to try on. They're a little long, but a lot fun. "How's my little hippie?" Tim asked her as she sauntered out of the bedroom, shirtless and sporting her beaded necklace. The answer, pretty darn good, dad.
-kjd

serious hippie.

happy hippie.

seriously happy hippie.

bell-bottomed hippie.

tattooed hippie (from laying on a watermelon chalk drawing).

creative hippie.

bird watching hippie.

sharing

I sometimes have a (very) difficult time getting Eleanor to eat. I make special foods, I give her options, I fly the airplane, I show her how good it tastes, I let her explore with her hands and feed herself, I simply place the food in front of her and let her decide whether she wants it or not. Sometimes these things work, sometimes they do not.

One thing that does tend to get her eating is letting her share her food. With mom, with dad, with the dogs, with anything that has a mouth (yes, Eleanor actually put those pieces of tortilla there).
-kjd

like mother like daughter

This afternoon while outside with Eleanor in the yard I blew a snot rocket. Very ladylike, I know. I have been congested for going on 3 months now and most of the time I just can't be bothered to find something to blow my nose into.

Eleanor witnessed this event, and was fascinated by it. I mean FASCINATED. She excitedly pointed to what was in my nose just moments earlier, and did not relent until I told her (several times) "Yes, that's mom's snot. Yes. There it is." Suddenly she stopped pointing, paused a beat, and then gently bent over the same spot I did and blew a little bit of air out of her nose. She did this several more times over the next hour- randomly stopping to lean forward and blow air out her nose. Just like mom.

The day we learned we were having a girl (I will never forget) Tim and I strolled across campus, hand in hand, excited at the news and he moved a little closer and said "You know, she's going to look to you for what it means to be a woman."

Here's to hoping that she picks up a few more feminine traits/ideas from me too.
-kjd

incident with a lizard

A few days ago, in the late afternoon, I swung the door open to the porch. Eleanor, just a few feet behind me, stopped at the door as I was saying to her that I needed to check the tiles (they are often too hot for bare feet after baking in the sun all day). As I bent down just in front of the door, facing the tiles, I felt something hit my head and seconds later saw a lizard scurrying toward the opposite side of the chimney. I don't know if he was drunk, dared by his friends, or just lost his footing, but it scared the crap out of me (and rightly so, I think) and I screamed. This, in turn, made Eleanor scared and she started to cry. After a few moments of comforting and reassurance that the lizard was all gone, she stopped. But she still wanted nothing to do with the porch.

The event must have been pretty dramatic, maybe even traumatic, for her; since that day, and several times each day, she seems to relive it. She points to the door and says "Ahhh, ahhh" with rising and falling intonation while using the "all done" sign. She then points to my head, and says all done once again. Sometimes I think that first "ahhh, ahhh" is her imitating my scream, which is equally funny in its own right. Everytime we go to the porch she does the same thing, and now there's an extra pause while she waits for me to tell her that it's safe to come out. There are no lizards falling from the sky.

It's strange to think that in no time this will be a forgotten memory for Eleanor, and all we'll have left is this blog post to remind us of that "incident with a lizard."
-kjd

Simanjiro

Not since March have Eleanor and I joined Tim on a trip to his field site- the time for us to do so was long overdue. So last week we packed our warmest clothes and extra servings of zucchini curry and headed to Simanjiro for 4 nights.

It was an immensely successful trip for Tim - the last before he rolled out his household survey (the bulk of his dissertation data collection)- and a very enjoyable trip for Eleanor and me. The cooler temperatures, the (little) improvement in my Kiswahilli, Eleanor's independence of mobility and interest in other children, shorter grasses which make for easier walking, and the fact that we didn't spend all day, each day, in the car all helped make the experience easier for both of us to handle.

It was also a real pleasure to watch Tim at work. I get glimpses of him conducting field work- through his stories and the stories of others- but to witness (and experience) a group interview in a boma or hear the exchange between Tim and his new field assistant as they discuss the upcoming questionnaire and walk up and down the river in Terrat where herders were gathering to water their cattle made everything a little more...well...real. I am so thankful for that opportunity.
-kjd   

"Mom, look!"

"I'm sorry, did you want that water?"

Dusk at the boma entrance.

The resident chameleon.

Chairs, fire-side.

Chopping firewood, Isaya (front) and Tim.

Newly built health clinic, Landanai Village.

 Inside the clinic, USAID food bags.

After lunch, mom and Eleanor.

Laughing at goats.

Red earth. Red pants.

Group interview, Maasai boma.

Training the new field assistant to take GPS readings.

 Dam and cattle trough, Terrat Village.

 

Calling to the giraffe (standing by the tree).

Same giraffe sighting.

Eleanor.

Early morning reading with dad: Turtle Splash Countdown at the Pond.

Playing in bucket of water- fun; being soaking wet as a result- not so fun.

Eleanor, Sukuro Village.

Outside the village administrative offices, Sukuro.