Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Hila is strange.

Wow, this has potential to be a long post.

Three things off the top of my head.
  1. Hila is obsessed with ice. She wakes up in the morning asking (or crying) for ice. When we finally give in and give it to her, she holds it in her hand until it melts. Yeah, I know. Weird. Also a bit medically unsettling--don't her hands get cold?
  2. When you ask Hila to give you five, she'll hit your hand (correctly) and then hit herself in the head.
  3. Hila has eaten raw onion and raw zucchini, after insisting that it was apple, and then instead of being disapointed, asked for more. (When I do give her apples, she's always really excited, but then just holds it--she never really eats it.)
I'm sure this list will grow.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

The balance of an old person

About a year ago I took the Wii balance test. At the time I was 28 and the results revealed that I had the balance of a 49-year-old. Now that I am 29, I'm assuming that my balance score has exponentially increased to (I'm going to actually do this math problem...hold on)...not sure if I did that right...but I now have the balance of a 51-year-old. At this rate, when I actually AM 51, I'll have the balance of a...hold on...89.25-year-old.

Anyways, my lack of balance has only recently been reinforced as I've joined the gym across the street that is attended mostly by middle-aged and older women, who all seem to have equal or better balance than I do.

This also brings me to another point I've been wanted to share for a long time, and that is: Why I am so bad at yoga.

You wouldn't know this from watching me in a yoga class, but I've been taking yoga on and off for many, many years. Yet I'm still no good at it. There are two reasons for three.

  1. As mentioned above, I have the balance of someone at least 20 years my senior. As people age, their balance deteriorates. You do the math (or look at mine above).
  2. I am just not flexible.
  3. I have short arms. For real. It runs in my family. Golds have short arms--it's just a slight disability that we've all learned to live with. Basically it means that we can't reach our toes so easily. Poses like half-moon, down-dog, and cow-face, therefore, are difficult. And since #1 rules out tree, eagle, and warrior III, I'm not left with too many doable postures.

All that being said, I really do love yoga. I really do believe that while practicing yoga you're competing against no one but yourself. I suck at yoga--always have and always will--but that's not to say that I haven't made very slight progress since I started so long ago.

Meanwhile, I haven't actually gone to a yoga class in the last year since my yoga teacher--here's a shout out to Jodi--moved to America. :(

Wow, a whole post without mentioning Hila--that's not right. So here: My new favorite Hila-ism is "oots" or "ootsy"--for "whoops" or "whoopsy." Ok, now I feel better.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

We just can't kick the bottle...

The last few nights have been tough on all of us. We've tried putting Hila to bed without her bottle of milk. There was one successful night, but the others have just ended in tears. Lots of tears. And lots of bottles.

Her not-really-sleeping-through-the-night phase actually started before we started trying to break her of her bottle habit. We think either she was teething (though we still haven't seen new teeth) or that she was constipated (good thing Hila likes prune juice). So I guess looking back it wasn't a good time to spring something new on her, but I sort of thought that since she was having trouble sleeping through the night anyways, maybe now actually WOULD be a good time to sort of double up on an annoyance. Why wait until everything is smooth sailing to THEN throw another curve ball at her?

In any case, Hila has not been sleeping so well lately...with or without the bottle. She'll go to sleep well, but then wake up a few times in the night and refuse to be put back in her crib until she's tossed and turned in our bed (quite violently) for some time and built some block towers in the living room.

The other night she INSISTED on hugging the dish soap for a little while. Today, during an almost-tantrum (she's never had a full-blown tantrum, just almost-tantrums), she again insisted on hugging the soap, but then I had to take it away (more tears) when I saw her sneaking a nip at the nozzle.

That was one little fight we had. We had another fight the other day when I told her that she can only eat unwrapped cheese triangles (which of course she did not want) and not the foil-wrapped ones (which she squeezed so hard in an effort to not let me get them that I had to throw them out). She doesn't really like cheese anyways; I don't know why I even tried.

She made me think of Sandra Boynton's What's Wrong Little Pookie? last night when she was crying and crying and crying and I kept asking her what was wrong and if she wanted X, Y, or Z, and she kept saying "no" in such a small, sad voice. Finally she said she wanted her daddy, which was good timing because he was on his way up the stairs at that point (he had been out watching "the game").

But don't worry, it's not all tears and sleepless nights around here. After all, there are the glorious mornings that follow these nights when we all sleep in til 8:30...9:00...and later. The other day we had to wake Hila up at 11:30.

She loves her baths more than...pretty much anything. She loves her bottles. She loves cereal (so much that sometimes that's all she eats all day). She loves the ABCs and Old McDonald. She loves jumping. She loves reading. And she loves her naps--she's about to hit 3 hours as I write this.

Today we went to a Mommy&Me shiur (I'm hosting next week, by the way) and we passed the pizza shop on Palmach. She started shouting "pizza! pizza!" She and her daddy go there a lot on their way home from gan.

Wake up, Hila, so we can play!


Related Posts with Thumbnails