Transferred from my other blog: The Adventures of Sisterhood.
First published: 6-25-12 at 11:29 AM EDT
Well, Kylie's sick again. We're not sure how, but before she got sick
she did have a great Saturday. I wasn't there for most of it, I was at a
pool with my teammates. However, Miss Kylie buggered daddy into taking
her to our neighborhood pool (or daddy offered, either way), and she
went swimming!
Kylie has this adorable little ladybug
floaty that you can see in the photo update from a few weeks back. When
at the pool, her time is divided between prancing around in that and
clinging to daddy when out of it. The float comes with this blue
overhead sun-visor like thing and it keeps her from becoming drowsy due
to the direct light and heat. When in daddy's arms, she gets submerged
up to her shoulders, and three times according to dad's count, up to the
tippy top of her head. Yep, Kylie got dunked in three times, and she
seemed to enjoy every one.
When they got home, Kylie
napped, snacked, and watched Elmo and Strawberry Shortcake. Then, after a
delicious dinner, she hopped (climbed) into the car with daddy to go
pick me up from my friend's house. After a half-hour car ride and
finally retrieving me, we headed back. In the car, I sang her songs. I
sang her the Wheels On The Bus, and she did her little dance to it,
rolling her arms over one another. I sang her the Itsy Bitsy Spider, and
her tiny fingers made pinch shapes and imitated a spider. When I was
done, she piped up with a quiet but demanding "ABCD!"
Dad
and I sang the ABC's probably over 15 times during that car ride. When
we say, Kylie, you try, she can get, ABCDE, which is pretty awesome. She
knows most of the alphabet already and can talk a lot. It's miraculous
how fast she grows.
- Chichi
Showing posts with label chichi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chichi. Show all posts
Monday, June 25, 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
Stages
Transferred from my other blog: The Adventures of Sisterhood.
First published: 6-4-12 at 10:36 PM EDT
First of all, I'm going to make an excuse for neglecting this blog last week. We were moving, and though I had access to both internet and Kylie, there just wasn't enough sit-down and write about the quirks of your little sister motivation in packing up everything and loading it in a truck. Basically, we spent the day making multiple trips between the house we were renting and the apartment we've leased. Kylie had trouble sleeping the first night here -- strange new place, who wouldn't be confused?
The week's entry has nothing to do with something Kylie did to inspire some silly anecdote out of my not-so-many years. My mom and I were talking about it in the car. What kind of stages will Kylie go through? With the way she dresses, the way she acts, the way she talks, and things. For myself, there were a few extremely distinct stages. When I was really little, I was a girly-girl. Then, I started gymnastics. I couldn't do cartwheels on the street in dresses, so I transitioned to sweatpants (can't cartwheel in jeans either). After starting middle school, I decided that sweatpants were too lazy looking for school and jeans were much cooler and I didn't need to be a little showoff and do walkovers everywhere I went.
As for attitude, I'm not such a great example. I've basically been cheerful from day one. My only rebellion came in the form of music, where I decided that pop music was too boring, that hard rock was more my thing. My classmate's little sister is currently in middle school. She's going to be a high school freshman next year, and in her grade, she's considered "popular" by everyone who knows her. My classmate and I were talking about our families, and she mentioned the sister. Apparently, her stages have been: Girly Girl, Goody Two Shoes, Horror Movie Marathon, and now, Get Out Of My Face. Their family is a bit dysfunctional, but both my friend and her sister are great.
I suppose you don't really start going through these phases until you're old enough to decide things for yourself. Like, choosing what to wear and such, not just whether or not to throw the sippy cup on the ground during a fit of rage. My prediction for Kylie: stage one will be a girly-girl. This isn't just because she's, well, a female. She really likes pink things and putting things in her hair and twirling in skirts/dresses. Unlike me as a baby, she likes being mom's dress-up/hair-experimenting doll. I'm seeing frills and fluffy things in this future!
-Chichi
First published: 6-4-12 at 10:36 PM EDT
First of all, I'm going to make an excuse for neglecting this blog last week. We were moving, and though I had access to both internet and Kylie, there just wasn't enough sit-down and write about the quirks of your little sister motivation in packing up everything and loading it in a truck. Basically, we spent the day making multiple trips between the house we were renting and the apartment we've leased. Kylie had trouble sleeping the first night here -- strange new place, who wouldn't be confused?
The week's entry has nothing to do with something Kylie did to inspire some silly anecdote out of my not-so-many years. My mom and I were talking about it in the car. What kind of stages will Kylie go through? With the way she dresses, the way she acts, the way she talks, and things. For myself, there were a few extremely distinct stages. When I was really little, I was a girly-girl. Then, I started gymnastics. I couldn't do cartwheels on the street in dresses, so I transitioned to sweatpants (can't cartwheel in jeans either). After starting middle school, I decided that sweatpants were too lazy looking for school and jeans were much cooler and I didn't need to be a little showoff and do walkovers everywhere I went.
As for attitude, I'm not such a great example. I've basically been cheerful from day one. My only rebellion came in the form of music, where I decided that pop music was too boring, that hard rock was more my thing. My classmate's little sister is currently in middle school. She's going to be a high school freshman next year, and in her grade, she's considered "popular" by everyone who knows her. My classmate and I were talking about our families, and she mentioned the sister. Apparently, her stages have been: Girly Girl, Goody Two Shoes, Horror Movie Marathon, and now, Get Out Of My Face. Their family is a bit dysfunctional, but both my friend and her sister are great.
I suppose you don't really start going through these phases until you're old enough to decide things for yourself. Like, choosing what to wear and such, not just whether or not to throw the sippy cup on the ground during a fit of rage. My prediction for Kylie: stage one will be a girly-girl. This isn't just because she's, well, a female. She really likes pink things and putting things in her hair and twirling in skirts/dresses. Unlike me as a baby, she likes being mom's dress-up/hair-experimenting doll. I'm seeing frills and fluffy things in this future!
-Chichi
Monday, May 21, 2012
The Character of the Place
Transferred from my other blog: The Adventures of Sisterhood.
First published: 5-21-12 at 11:25 PM EDT
Kylie knows how to say banana now. And umbrella in Chinese. And she knows the possessive word (the 's in English) in Chinese. Her sentences are almost coherent and today when Mom came inside from the backyard with Kylie perched on her hip. I almost thought she looked too big to be doing that. As a teammate pointed out last week, Kylie has grown so much since we moved here to North Carolina. Unlike me, who over ten years of her life in the peachy state of Georgia, Kylie is officially an NC kid.
North Carolina gives me the impression of being hillbilly, if that's a proper word. The Raleigh farmer's market is phenomena. The air is crisp and fresh except when it's hot and stuffy... you know what I mean, at least it's clean. Greenways, paved paths that don't allow motorized vehicles, provide safe ways for recreational exercise to the NC communities. In Georgia, we practically had a library in our backyard. I was never allowed there on my own, for two reasons. One, the walk was apparently too far, though it was less than a mile. Two, it was unsafe. And indeed it was. Despite being located in a well-off, suburban area of the greater Atlanta Area, our community has had multiple encounters with sexual predators.
A close friend's little sister is in 8th grade this year, and was approached in her neighborhood (a pretty expensive, clean, new neighborhood) by a questionable man in a ratty car. He asked her where she lived and other personal questions. The girl, very smart, ignored him and walked to her friends at the school bus stop to the local middle school. Another instance occurred when I had a friend over. We were crossing a small street to go to a local Menchie's and Kroger on a grocery run for my mom. Guys in a white truck slowed and stopped near us multiple times, whistling and yelling suggestive things, as well as asking for personal information.
I'm not implying that Cary will be unsafe. In fact, it's ranked number 43 as the best places to live in America, out of the bazillions of towns and cities we have here. I'm just wondering, what of a town isn't reflected in it's statistics? We've been here nearly a year and everything has checked out. However, we lived in our last house for 5 before anything extraordinary happened. Only time will reveal Cary's character.
-Chichi
First published: 5-21-12 at 11:25 PM EDT
Kylie knows how to say banana now. And umbrella in Chinese. And she knows the possessive word (the 's in English) in Chinese. Her sentences are almost coherent and today when Mom came inside from the backyard with Kylie perched on her hip. I almost thought she looked too big to be doing that. As a teammate pointed out last week, Kylie has grown so much since we moved here to North Carolina. Unlike me, who over ten years of her life in the peachy state of Georgia, Kylie is officially an NC kid.
North Carolina gives me the impression of being hillbilly, if that's a proper word. The Raleigh farmer's market is phenomena. The air is crisp and fresh except when it's hot and stuffy... you know what I mean, at least it's clean. Greenways, paved paths that don't allow motorized vehicles, provide safe ways for recreational exercise to the NC communities. In Georgia, we practically had a library in our backyard. I was never allowed there on my own, for two reasons. One, the walk was apparently too far, though it was less than a mile. Two, it was unsafe. And indeed it was. Despite being located in a well-off, suburban area of the greater Atlanta Area, our community has had multiple encounters with sexual predators.
A close friend's little sister is in 8th grade this year, and was approached in her neighborhood (a pretty expensive, clean, new neighborhood) by a questionable man in a ratty car. He asked her where she lived and other personal questions. The girl, very smart, ignored him and walked to her friends at the school bus stop to the local middle school. Another instance occurred when I had a friend over. We were crossing a small street to go to a local Menchie's and Kroger on a grocery run for my mom. Guys in a white truck slowed and stopped near us multiple times, whistling and yelling suggestive things, as well as asking for personal information.
I'm not implying that Cary will be unsafe. In fact, it's ranked number 43 as the best places to live in America, out of the bazillions of towns and cities we have here. I'm just wondering, what of a town isn't reflected in it's statistics? We've been here nearly a year and everything has checked out. However, we lived in our last house for 5 before anything extraordinary happened. Only time will reveal Cary's character.
-Chichi
Monday, May 14, 2012
Sissy's Purpose
Transferred from my other blog: The Adventures of Sisterhood.
First published: 5-14-12 at 11:26 PM EDT
Mom: "Say hi to Sissy."
Kylie: [looks away]
Me: "Hi Yaoyao! Will you say hi to Sissy?"
Kylie: [shakes head] No.
Mom: "Yaoyao, say hi to Sissy."
Kylie: No. [points to kitchen counter]
Mom: [gives her what she wants - a packet of garlic green peas]
Kylie: Oooh, dou dou! [Translate: Yay, green peas!]
When we came home from my clarinet lesson, Kylie came and greeted Mommy and I at the door. Well, she walked right by me and into Mommy's arms. Same difference. It's the beginning of the Terrible Twos, so I'm told. I always thought that the Terrible Twos were something that affected parents, not siblings.For those closer in age, what was the worst years to share with a younger or older sibling? Usually, if I ask that question, I get the answer as four or five. Agreements? Disagreements?
Currently, I perform few roles for Kylie. I cut up her dinner for her occasionally, I provide the medium on which she watches her beloved Elmo's World, and I provide the lap on which she'll plant her tiny butt while indulging in reruns of Elmo's World. I don't mind, really. It's absolutely adorable. And with her talking so much, life is just so much more interesting. Our parents like to tell a certain story of me from when I was about Kylie's age. Some lost in time naughty task was performed, and some lost in time person asked: "Who did it?" Just learning to respond and speak when prompted, I answered immediately, "Chichi did it!" Kylie's response to that right now is just "Yaoyao!" No frills, no furs, just to the point. But it's nice to think that I wasn't the only toddler stupid with her responses. Silly kids.
-Chichi
First published: 5-14-12 at 11:26 PM EDT
Mom: "Say hi to Sissy."
Kylie: [looks away]
Me: "Hi Yaoyao! Will you say hi to Sissy?"
Kylie: [shakes head] No.
Mom: "Yaoyao, say hi to Sissy."
Kylie: No. [points to kitchen counter]
Mom: [gives her what she wants - a packet of garlic green peas]
Kylie: Oooh, dou dou! [Translate: Yay, green peas!]
When we came home from my clarinet lesson, Kylie came and greeted Mommy and I at the door. Well, she walked right by me and into Mommy's arms. Same difference. It's the beginning of the Terrible Twos, so I'm told. I always thought that the Terrible Twos were something that affected parents, not siblings.For those closer in age, what was the worst years to share with a younger or older sibling? Usually, if I ask that question, I get the answer as four or five. Agreements? Disagreements?
Currently, I perform few roles for Kylie. I cut up her dinner for her occasionally, I provide the medium on which she watches her beloved Elmo's World, and I provide the lap on which she'll plant her tiny butt while indulging in reruns of Elmo's World. I don't mind, really. It's absolutely adorable. And with her talking so much, life is just so much more interesting. Our parents like to tell a certain story of me from when I was about Kylie's age. Some lost in time naughty task was performed, and some lost in time person asked: "Who did it?" Just learning to respond and speak when prompted, I answered immediately, "Chichi did it!" Kylie's response to that right now is just "Yaoyao!" No frills, no furs, just to the point. But it's nice to think that I wasn't the only toddler stupid with her responses. Silly kids.
-Chichi
Monday, May 7, 2012
Pepper Jack Cheese
Transferred from my other blog: The Adventures of Sisterhood.
First published: 5-7-12 at 10:28 PM EDT
Chinese food, Indian food, Moe's queso, Flamin' Hot Cheetos. What do all of these have in common? They're often considered spicy. It's nothing extraordinary that a Chinese teenager would have a fairly high tolerance for spicy foods. After all, spicy food is delicious. However, it is a bit odd that an 18 month old baby loves spicy food almost just as much as her big sister. There are some things that I can handle but she can't, but she's 18 months old, for goodness sakes.
Target's brand, Market Pantry, sells these pepper jack cheese sticks. I personally think they're the most amazing things on the planet. I eat one with my salad for lunch every week day, if there are enough in the refrigerator. Kylie has her own cheese. Kraft American, 2%. After dinner, if we're wrapping up leftovers and the refrigerator gets open, Kylie will undoubtedly poke her head in. She'll eye the contents for a moment, ignore our requests for her to come out and close the door, and turn to look at us sweetly. "Cheese," she'll assert, pointing at the pepper jack.
Once she sees it, she won't allow denial. Because sometimes she doesn't finish it, and sometimes we try to leave enough for me to have it with my lunch the rest of the week, we'll try to offer her other things. "How about Yaoyao's cheese?" Grandma will call. "Come eat watermelon," Mommy will coax. "Kylie, get your head out of there," I'll yell from the sink two feet away, where I might be doing dishes if my mom is lucky. Our words always fall to deaf ears. Kylie will ignore our sadly inefficacious work and toddle up to someone. She'll hold up the cheese stick and plead, with her eyes, for it to be opened.
This pepper jack cheese isn't exactly the world's mildest. Even our mom thinks it's a bit too much. Today, just a little bit after dinner, Kylie spotted it and asked for it. Our grandmother tried to distract her, but finally relented and held it just out of Kylie's standing reach. Kylie actually jumped to grab it, giggling the whole way and and down. Honestly, I didn't even know she knew how to jump. Ah, well, there's one more cheese stick in the bag. She can have it. I'll eat an apple with my lunch tomorrow instead.
-Chichi
First published: 5-7-12 at 10:28 PM EDT
Chinese food, Indian food, Moe's queso, Flamin' Hot Cheetos. What do all of these have in common? They're often considered spicy. It's nothing extraordinary that a Chinese teenager would have a fairly high tolerance for spicy foods. After all, spicy food is delicious. However, it is a bit odd that an 18 month old baby loves spicy food almost just as much as her big sister. There are some things that I can handle but she can't, but she's 18 months old, for goodness sakes.
Target's brand, Market Pantry, sells these pepper jack cheese sticks. I personally think they're the most amazing things on the planet. I eat one with my salad for lunch every week day, if there are enough in the refrigerator. Kylie has her own cheese. Kraft American, 2%. After dinner, if we're wrapping up leftovers and the refrigerator gets open, Kylie will undoubtedly poke her head in. She'll eye the contents for a moment, ignore our requests for her to come out and close the door, and turn to look at us sweetly. "Cheese," she'll assert, pointing at the pepper jack.
Once she sees it, she won't allow denial. Because sometimes she doesn't finish it, and sometimes we try to leave enough for me to have it with my lunch the rest of the week, we'll try to offer her other things. "How about Yaoyao's cheese?" Grandma will call. "Come eat watermelon," Mommy will coax. "Kylie, get your head out of there," I'll yell from the sink two feet away, where I might be doing dishes if my mom is lucky. Our words always fall to deaf ears. Kylie will ignore our sadly inefficacious work and toddle up to someone. She'll hold up the cheese stick and plead, with her eyes, for it to be opened.
This pepper jack cheese isn't exactly the world's mildest. Even our mom thinks it's a bit too much. Today, just a little bit after dinner, Kylie spotted it and asked for it. Our grandmother tried to distract her, but finally relented and held it just out of Kylie's standing reach. Kylie actually jumped to grab it, giggling the whole way and and down. Honestly, I didn't even know she knew how to jump. Ah, well, there's one more cheese stick in the bag. She can have it. I'll eat an apple with my lunch tomorrow instead.
-Chichi
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)