A little while ago Tomáš went to the director of Lily's pre-school to ask for an application for Rosy. As you might imagine, I had one of those ''but she's still a baby'' moments. But really she will be almost three. Tomáš had to run an errand this morning so I took Lily to pre-school and had Rosy with me. When her teacher opened the door, Rosy went running in and joined all the kids and didn't want to leave. Although the thought of putting her in pre-school hurts my heart a little, it does my heart so good to see her liking it there. Before we were even sure we wanted to put Lily in pre-school, we ran into a class outside one day that was out for a walk, and Lily jumped in line with the other kids and refused to leave, much to the teachers' great amusement. That was when I knew she'd be all right there. Turns out all right was a gross understatement. She ab-solute-ly loves it there. Every weekend day and holiday is like torture to her. She keeps asking how long 'til she gets to go back to škôlka. Other mommies tell me I have a lot to be thankful for in that, and I know I do. I've heard many stories of morning after morning after morning kicking and screaming fits of ''don't make me go''s.
|Barbie needed a quick dress|
Last spring we were at our local community sandbox and I said something to Lily in English. This is usually met with anything from a quick glance to an outright stare, but instead the woman sitting on the edge asked where I was from. We started chatting and it turned out she had just moved back to Slovakia after having worked in England for five years. They were new in town and didn't know anyone. And it just so happened that they were living in our building. Then we discovered that we even shared an entrance. She invited Rosy and me over for coffee one day (ok, me for coffee, Rosy for Nilla Wafers; ), then we returned the invitation. And that's how it's been for the last nine months or so. One or the other of us will send an SMS in the morning asking if the other wants to ''pop in'' for coffee, as she says. And we usually do. They have a son a little younger than Rosy, so it works out perfectly. She was the Rhoda to my Mary. Or the Mary to my Rhoda. But they got word yesterday that the owner of their flat sold it and they have to move in March. I'm so sad. I know we'll still visit each other, but it will never be the same. (Read: I won't be able to visit her in my sweats and slippers, and I won't get any more of those ''I'm running to the store, do you need anything?'' texts). For a period of time in my single days, I lived in one apartment building with: two cousins, a brother and four friends. We all had our own apartments, but would drop by each others' places frequently. It was awesome. We had our own sitcom. It was like Seinfeld but was called Schliebe. Ok, ok not really. But we totally could have.
|In her going-home-from-the-hospital snowsuit|
Believe it or not I had forgotten about the Terrible Twos. It's kind of like birth pains. You go through this excruciating pain and immediately forget about it when you see your sweet angel's face (return). But right now we're in the throes. With Lily it was hard, because she is fiercely independent, smart and stubborn. Or at least I thought she was (stubborn)...until I met Rosy. Rosy is independent in the typical ''do it myself'' way that toddlers are, but she's also a mama's girl and wants to be around me at all times. This makes it very difficult to grab a piece of sanity when she's around all. the. time, and every little thing I do sends her into wailing tantrum mode. She's smart too. But I think she's even more stubborn than Lily, and that's saying something. I plan on expanding on this subject in a future post.
|Somebodies got into the markers|
|Mama, we're just having ''karneval''|
|Me: Who gave Itty ''pichliačiky?'' (thistles = little pokies = whiskers) Lily: They're not pichliačiky, she's just wearing a cat costume.|
|''Elsa and Anna''|
bác! bum bác!'' (0:21).
|Lily learned about antibiotics from the Berenstain Bears. The other day she brought me a spoonful of ''the sticky pink stuff''|