Mazzy Diaries

I was really good at keeping track of all of my first child's "firsts" for about eight months or so. I got her first word and first teeth and first haircut and first bird and what not. But according to the records I kept, she took her first steps and then nothing happened until she was three.

I have pictures and a few loose sheets of paper that show otherwise, of course. I feel bad, though, because I've been much more diligent about logging what goes on with my second child. I think it's partly due to the cool book I was given for the purpose, and we'll see what happens when she starts walking.

Anyway, I've got this blog, so I thought I'd dedicate some space to record some things about Maz that I love.

First, some oft-repeated phrases:

• "fur mince" - as in "for a minute" i.e. Mom, can you hold this fur mince?
• "E-en" - her sister's name is Eden, but Maz has always pronounced it with a silent D (these two are particularly savory because Mazzy's pronunciation has always been nearly flawless)
• "not until yet" - me: Maz, it's naptime. Are you ready to brush your teeth? Maz: Not until yet!
• "...or somethin." - How about we watch a movie or somethin. You should go in the kitchen or somethin. I could have some chocolate or somethin.

Like most kids, mine is a candy hound. She can sense the presence of cookies and chocolate no matter where I hide it. Every so often, something sweet slips into her magic little hands and she always tells me, "I can just save this, mom." Not going to eat it, just going to save it.

She never had much choice about it, but her taste in music is much the same as ours. She loves the melancholy acoustic stuff that I always play and is a true connoisseur of funk, like daddy. Every once in a while, she trumps us, though. Lately she's been really into the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. Of her own choosing. It's hard to resist a little girl doing disco (more than a woman to meee).

I was working at her school a couple weeks before Christmas, and they were making little reindeer ornaments out of the kids' feet and hand prints. There were all kinds of embelishments and glue, so all their creations were laid out to dry on a big drying rack. I was walking by them and eyeballing (pun intended) a particularly wacky one, thinking, "I wish Mazzy would make something like that." And the next schoolday there it was in Maz's cubby. She did make it. And my faith in her sense of artistic freedom was restored.

She also started making letters. I didn't teach her this, and they don't do writing at school, she just busted it out one day. She always does some combination of the same ones, "A, l, t, o, M, and b." The same thing happened when Scarlett was three. So I contribute my two solid examples to support the idea that kids should be responsible for their own pace of learning, rather than be coerced into it.

And, finally, we'll never forget this Christmas as the one when Mazzy first laid eyes on Santa.

He came to Grams' house in Tahoe on Christmas Eve, complete with loud thumping hoofbeats on the roof and sleigh bells ringing.

<-This was her face when he walked in the door.

I've never really wanted to push the whole Santa thing, but Jon and Auntie K were insistent and built up the whole elaborate entrance and she never caught on that it was daddy under all that fluffy white hair.

In fact, when Jon came back after Santa left, with the milk he had to go to the store to get ;) Mazzy was really sad that he missed it. Over the next two days, she'd go out on the deck and yell something like, "Santa! My dad had to go get some milk and he missed you! Come back so he can see! I love you!"

Aaaaww.