tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23642322741200564302024-03-13T11:08:06.092-07:00Mama, Miyathe life and times of Miya and her momAnitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-55136255054260521412012-05-12T12:01:00.000-07:002012-05-12T12:01:08.104-07:003 years-old<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L2Y9nPfoJto/T66wmhnK_tI/AAAAAAAABtM/i42JPeYSJEw/s1600/party_Miya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L2Y9nPfoJto/T66wmhnK_tI/AAAAAAAABtM/i42JPeYSJEw/s200/party_Miya.jpg" /></a></div>
To celebrate turning 3, Miya invited approximately 30 guests to her back yard for a spring planting party.<br />
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Each young guest received a clay flower pot. There were paints for parent-assisted decorating (water-soluble paints don't work so well on things that will be watered), dirt to fill the pots with (or just dig around, as many chose to do), and flowers to plant.<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FznSLiL5ZPs/T66yATZiVLI/AAAAAAAABtU/TCvNmAVd8CE/s1600/party_Miya_Dylan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FznSLiL5ZPs/T66yATZiVLI/AAAAAAAABtU/TCvNmAVd8CE/s200/party_Miya_Dylan.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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Giving toddlers opportunities to play in the dirt is a pretty safe bet for a easy entertainment - although parents may have wondered about the combination of dirt and finger foods. Would you like some potting soil with that penguin cracker?<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vZR17kIZtTI/T66yFHIEJfI/AAAAAAAABtc/O2o_LwzYZnk/s1600/party_Maddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vZR17kIZtTI/T66yFHIEJfI/AAAAAAAABtc/O2o_LwzYZnk/s200/party_Maddy.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
Miya's daddy produced some fantastic cupcakes - the chocolate ones with sprinkles on top were a big hit, both a tasty snack and a fashion accessory.Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-74600140569175282852012-04-16T12:50:00.001-07:002012-04-16T12:51:38.768-07:00Miya's big race<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HpeAQvmLXhg/T4x3imcUQbI/AAAAAAAABr4/NQsHw5I2p4M/s1600/Run_Miya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HpeAQvmLXhg/T4x3imcUQbI/AAAAAAAABr4/NQsHw5I2p4M/s1600/Run_Miya.jpg" /></a></div>On Sunday, Miya and her family participated in the <a href="http://www.ottawacitizen.com/Extending+their+reach+with/6458649/story.html" target="_blank">2012 Minto Run for Reach</a>. This intense competition pitched our young Ottawa native against some of the best athletes in the region - including Paralympian runner <a href="http://www.athletics.ca/profile_new.asp?pID=9925" target="_blank">Jon Dunkerley</a>.<br />
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Though she had been keen to face her rivals in the Half-Marathon competition, out of consideration for her mother (who, to her daughter's chagrin, is a hopeless runner), Miya consented to limit herself to the 3K Family Walk/Run. Since this event was not timed, when her decision was announced there was an audible sigh of relief among other racers.<br />
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Miya showed <a href="http://mamamiyablog.blogspot.ca/2009/07/ottawas-youngest-marathoner.html" target="_blank">early promise as a marathoner</a>, and just a few days shy of her third birthday, she proved that she is ready to take on the challenges of road racing. Bolstered by the support of her family - mom, dad and grandma - as well as the companionship of Baby Penguin, she smoothly sailed to the finish line.<br />
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<a href="http://www.runningroom.com/hm/inside.php?id=3035" target="_blank">John Stanton</a>, President and Founder of the Running Room who was the Run for Reach race starter, is rumoured to have been studying Miya's running technique and may be introducing a line of pink croc racing shoes at his stores this summer.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zF_59Li4W3Q/T4x3ttmG9_I/AAAAAAAABsA/gfaihgLdZlI/s1600/Run_sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zF_59Li4W3Q/T4x3ttmG9_I/AAAAAAAABsA/gfaihgLdZlI/s320/Run_sm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-40993107680334169242011-10-15T10:23:00.000-07:002011-10-15T11:56:17.932-07:00The pumpkin patch<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--xrHa9o_GT8/TpnBugenw2I/AAAAAAAABiE/_9BhRzjhcAQ/s1600/pumpkins.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 220px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--xrHa9o_GT8/TpnBugenw2I/AAAAAAAABiE/_9BhRzjhcAQ/s320/pumpkins.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663771011131622242" /></a>This morning Miya took a trip to Foster's pumpkin patch on the southeast end of Ottawa.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uzQaIvg__Eo/TpnCk-PAd_I/AAAAAAAABiQ/MQVtK9hrtL0/s1600/pumpkins4.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 220px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uzQaIvg__Eo/TpnCk-PAd_I/AAAAAAAABiQ/MQVtK9hrtL0/s320/pumpkins4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663771946832132082" /></a>There were piles of pumpkins for sale, but it was much more exciting to head off the big pumpkin patch and choose her own. The weather was cool, with sprinklings of wind and smatterings of rain, but Miya was undaunted.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YEzvNyjBhYw/TpnClhMXt0I/AAAAAAAABio/3mcNArQaJao/s1600/pumpkins3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 220px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YEzvNyjBhYw/TpnClhMXt0I/AAAAAAAABio/3mcNArQaJao/s320/pumpkins3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663771956216313666" /></a>She and her father carefully searched through acres of pumpkins (okay, a small field) to find the perfect daddy sized pumpkin and Miya sized pumpkin.<br /><br />Next step will be making jack o' lanterns.<br /><br /><br /></div></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-61609951626672669062011-09-21T06:23:00.000-07:002011-09-21T06:32:00.310-07:00Career choices - pilot?<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q1CMr8Lh6iY/Tnnl2_LBkaI/AAAAAAAABfM/cuND-hZnXCk/s1600/planes_sm.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q1CMr8Lh6iY/Tnnl2_LBkaI/AAAAAAAABfM/cuND-hZnXCk/s320/planes_sm.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654803539973738914" /></a>Wanting to be sure that she has time to explore all her options, Miya is beginning to consider future career possibilities.<br /><br />Becoming a pilot is one of the many options she is considering. <div><br /></div><div>This choice is not surprising to her parents, given that one of her first words was 'airplane'. However, they are cautioning her that she may not advance very quickly in this career path given that she is still encumbered with the responsibilities of attending pre-school.</div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3i88O8GJfk4/TnnlzWmphFI/AAAAAAAABfE/OGObAedkZig/s1600/planes2_sm.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3i88O8GJfk4/TnnlzWmphFI/AAAAAAAABfE/OGObAedkZig/s320/planes2_sm.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654803477544141906" /></a><br />Not easily discouraged, Miya is spending her time familiarizing herself with different aircraft models and the layout of the flight deck. </div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-32050525894244250982011-05-22T10:47:00.001-07:002011-05-22T10:57:23.119-07:00The days are getting warmer<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-10udfYyNcck/TdlMehNbcrI/AAAAAAAABUg/ttQhwVwB5f0/s1600/sunglasses.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-10udfYyNcck/TdlMehNbcrI/AAAAAAAABUg/ttQhwVwB5f0/s320/sunglasses.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609598898061144754" /></a>As spring moves toward summer the days get warmer and Miya spends as much time as possible outside. Waking up from a nap, "Go outside!" is usually one of the first things she says. <div><br /></div><div>So many things to do outside - climb and slide on the play structure, play with water in a little water table, help daddy pull dandelions or watch him mow the lawn, find worms with mommy and carry weeds to the green bin... </div><div><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kssw9inganI/TdlOLeyoN9I/AAAAAAAABUo/uHgyYIrLVI8/s1600/picnic.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kssw9inganI/TdlOLeyoN9I/AAAAAAAABUo/uHgyYIrLVI8/s320/picnic.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609600770017605586" /></a><div>Now that the yard looks so nice, it's time to have friends over for a picnic. (The best thing about these picnic is that pants are optional.)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O7nyAFvflgA/TdlMdUsaX7I/AAAAAAAABUQ/pMFeZVQpQbw/s1600/dandelions.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O7nyAFvflgA/TdlMdUsaX7I/AAAAAAAABUQ/pMFeZVQpQbw/s320/dandelions.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609598877521567666" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And it's always fun to get dressed up as a dandelion princess.<br /></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-81810074041489346212011-05-08T11:00:00.001-07:002011-05-08T11:14:39.322-07:00Spring in the capital<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-stkfGkinExs/Tcba05AwCNI/AAAAAAAABTw/zJrytijDRgU/s1600/park.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-stkfGkinExs/Tcba05AwCNI/AAAAAAAABTw/zJrytijDRgU/s320/park.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604407388501182674" /></a>Now that the weather is turning warmer, Miya is outside soaking up the sunshine and making the most of Ottawa spring.<div><br /></div><div>She joined in at the local Easter egg hunt - her face festively painted with a little bunny and was very equal opportunity for what was added to her bucket: eggs, grass, pebbles, sticks. </div><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sl-8oE7HpB0/TcbadNnYesI/AAAAAAAABTY/qAXu_QaCOeE/s1600/tulipfest_tulip.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sl-8oE7HpB0/TcbadNnYesI/AAAAAAAABTY/qAXu_QaCOeE/s320/tulipfest_tulip.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604406981715065538" /></a><br /></div><div>She attended the local tulip festival where she checked up on tulips large and small.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-no_pFtVGkGQ/TcbadTbA0cI/AAAAAAAABTg/jWMYosN7Feg/s1600/tulipfest_painting2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-no_pFtVGkGQ/TcbadTbA0cI/AAAAAAAABTg/jWMYosN7Feg/s320/tulipfest_painting2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604406983273796034" /></a>At the tulip festival she even shared her artistic talent by joining in on the kids mural - adding dabs and streaks of bright colours. Tulips and creativity are blossoming all around.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-42975323889629403232011-04-01T17:22:00.001-07:002011-04-01T17:29:56.622-07:00Maple syrup season<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wj2WtOwbxEM/TZZsiEVrrjI/AAAAAAAABQ4/yrYG51H9rjY/s1600/mapletrees.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wj2WtOwbxEM/TZZsiEVrrjI/AAAAAAAABQ4/yrYG51H9rjY/s320/mapletrees.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590775319963086386" /></a>In true Canadian spirit, this spring Miya made sure to attend a local sugaring festival to check on this year's maple syrup production. <div><br />With help from her parents, she checked several buckets to ensure that the sap was flowing. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QcAcHe6LNiA/TZZsck42KOI/AAAAAAAABQw/xnn8hCHu_Dc/s1600/maplesugar1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QcAcHe6LNiA/TZZsck42KOI/AAAAAAAABQw/xnn8hCHu_Dc/s320/maplesugar1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590775225621293282" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Then came the all important taste test.</div><div><br />Miya accepted a serving of maple syrup poured over clean snow and wrapped around popsicle sticks.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1BS1ha-lPRQ/TZZsXYq7mII/AAAAAAAABQo/Gb5im8IGcA0/s1600/maplesugar2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1BS1ha-lPRQ/TZZsXYq7mII/AAAAAAAABQo/Gb5im8IGcA0/s320/maplesugar2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590775136442357890" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After some reflection, she deemed it absolutely delicious. Even the stick was worth chewing on after all the syrup-snow had been eaten.<br /></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-87626792995834140212011-02-26T16:34:00.000-08:002011-02-26T16:42:05.351-08:00Miya 'sings' the ABC song<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dycgtyqaqwiA8BgxcnWKeldCC_jnQJNx7-645w3_FnoCz9pWOkE3NFoF_M5ZoeFKZKeghFmjRiiwWe4Vt40PQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>So here is our 22-month old reciting the alphabet. We do not expect this film to receive any acknowledgment at tomorrow's Oscar awards for directing, editing or photography. But we do feel that M delivers a very strong performance in the role of a budding scholar and logophile.</div><div><br /></div><div>She often 'sings' this song after she has been put down for a nap - we can hear her shouting out the letters. When she gets to the end - 'now I know my ABCs, next time won't you sing with me' - she mutters 'now-a-now' and then peters off in a bunch of indecipherable syllables. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-87867668135659115222011-02-08T16:32:00.000-08:002011-02-08T16:42:21.253-08:00Camel ride<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TVHgyCje73I/AAAAAAAABOY/eqOuzCiq52U/s1600/MDcamel.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TVHgyCje73I/AAAAAAAABOY/eqOuzCiq52U/s320/MDcamel.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571481364317794162" /></a>Tired of Canadian winters, Miya recently hitched a camel ride to head for warmer climes.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Originally destined for Egypt, recent political turmoil deterred them, so she and her traveling companion were forced to remain within the Children's Museum. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is likely just as well. Neither of them held a valid passport and we suspect that the money she carried was a forgery.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-62251970817632167052011-01-12T11:50:00.001-08:002011-02-08T16:41:04.188-08:00My 20-month old could draw that<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TS4GNRZh7WI/AAAAAAAABMs/Sn5BQFzQZyM/s1600/painting2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TS4GNRZh7WI/AAAAAAAABMs/Sn5BQFzQZyM/s320/painting2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561389414927691106" /></a>The Ottawa arts community is abuzz with the recent opening of an exhibit of Miya Nagaraj's latest work.<div><br /></div><div> <div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TS4GIq6ZA2I/AAAAAAAABMk/wcnddj05ZBw/s1600/painting3.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TS4GIq6ZA2I/AAAAAAAABMk/wcnddj05ZBw/s320/painting3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561389335877059426" /></a><div>These bold, colourful pieces - praised by critics as a striking combination of innocence and bravado - are set to move quickly. </div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TS4GEqXLhKI/AAAAAAAABMc/xfcLbipYWcY/s1600/painting1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TS4GEqXLhKI/AAAAAAAABMc/xfcLbipYWcY/s320/painting1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561389267009897634" /></a><div><br /></div><div>The paintings are a mixed media of water-soluble paint and dish soap on paper.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The artist, famously reticent in talking about her art and influences, has simply titled them 'paintings'.</div></div></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-44433360243922400882011-01-04T11:57:00.001-08:002011-01-04T12:13:55.851-08:00Christmas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TSN-eg5gJmI/AAAAAAAABL0/G-DK5lHUvnE/s1600/xmastree.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TSN-eg5gJmI/AAAAAAAABL0/G-DK5lHUvnE/s320/xmastree.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558425427797616226" /></a>Christmas must be very strange to you when you are only 20 months old. <div><br /></div><div>One day, you wake up from a nap and come into the living room. There is a tree. Not just any tree, but a tree with lights and little things hanging in the branches like snowmen, angels and stars. </div><div><br /></div><div>And parents, children do not have an innate affection for hairy strangers dressed in red. In fact, these men with their bright outfits and jingling bells are terrifying. Why on earth would one want to sit on his lap and smile for a camera? Miya much preferred to keep a safe distance.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then come the gifts. Everything that a child receives is gift. New clothes, new toys - they usually just appear. But for an inexplicable reason, on Dec 24 and 25 these things are wrapped up in paper or put in fancy bags. Although Miya soon got into the fun of ripping wrapping paper, not surprisingly the whole idea of gifts was lost on her. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then, one day, the tree disappears and all that remains are the new toys and some scattered pine needles.</div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-78328189073855407092010-12-16T09:42:00.000-08:002011-04-08T19:00:22.157-07:00our little volunteer<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TQpPzqg4FII/AAAAAAAABLg/Xl_-wQBcBrI/s1600/glebe_centre_1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TQpPzqg4FII/AAAAAAAABLg/Xl_-wQBcBrI/s320/glebe_centre_1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551337239691662466" /></a>Miya spends her mornings, Monday through Thursday, at the playgroup. For Fridays she found another kind of activity to fill her morning. She takes her mom to the Glebe Centre, a long-term care home for seniors, where she is a volunteer visitor to residents with advanced dementia.<div><br /></div><div>Miya is a fantastic volunteer. Her role is simply to play in the common room where residents can watch her, since people with advanced dementia will often respond to small children in ways they don't with adults. Already through her play she is engaging with them. </div><div><div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TQpPvhAN25I/AAAAAAAABLY/9IYso6WZ3ZU/s1600/glebe_centre_2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TQpPvhAN25I/AAAAAAAABLY/9IYso6WZ3ZU/s320/glebe_centre_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551337168419281810" /></a>It truly is amazing to watch. She is able to do what I cannot - interact with no preconceptions, no judgement. She does not stop to wonder what someone's disability is, what they are or are not capable of. She takes them as they are. If they want to sing to her, she listens. If they mumble or stutter, she listens too. No judgement. Pure engagement.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>By our second visit, she was sharing her board puzzles with residents- taking them little pieces that together they would work to put into place. The facilitator was over the moon watching the ease with which Miya interacts with them - and the way in which residents respond to her. And I couldn't be more proud of our little volunteer.</div></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-10435571527409100552010-11-23T06:52:00.000-08:002010-11-23T13:44:56.290-08:00Miya's movieAfter starring in her debut film, <a href="http://mamamiyablog.blogspot.com/2010/07/is-for-apple.html">A is for Apple</a>, Miya has been seeking another cinematic opportunity - but so far has been disappointed by the lack of depth and dialogue in roles for toddlers. <div><br /></div><div>No longer willing to wait, Miya recruited her nanny to assist her in making her first feature-length film, a riveting documentary in which Miya goes undercover in a community playgroup to get to the heart of such questions like 'What happens in gym time?' and 'Is there snack?'</div><div><br /></div><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwfXRNr_ZaE-kFuOjBnHD3jJ6sLK4RKAul1Vgpa4Q4hTW0LLML-g56igRvFEvT2uFfzptP4M9usSwyhLR23mA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-56680395866422613212010-11-01T12:10:00.000-07:002010-11-01T12:24:36.116-07:00Halloween<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TM8QxGdq5CI/AAAAAAAABLM/K-mRq4u5rZg/s1600/tiger.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TM8QxGdq5CI/AAAAAAAABLM/K-mRq4u5rZg/s320/tiger.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534660902796321826" /></a>Halloween is a time for spooks, goblins and ghoulish surprises. <div><br /></div><div>It's hard to be scary when you are less than 3 feet tall. You can't exactly bare your fangs if your little teeth are still working their way up through your gums. </div><div><br /></div><div>But Miya defied these odds on October 31st was transformed from an adorable toddler into a ferocious tiger. Animals tucked their tails and ran at the sight of her. Dogs howled. Babies cried. A kitten fainted. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thankfully, at midnight, the coach became a pumpkin to be tossed in the municipal green bin and the tiger was tamed. Peace is restored.</div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-2311147588291149272010-10-18T09:30:00.001-07:002010-10-18T09:37:14.316-07:00fall hats<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TLx2R_teHTI/AAAAAAAABKw/EenW7FNl_V8/s1600/Miyas_hat.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TLx2R_teHTI/AAAAAAAABKw/EenW7FNl_V8/s320/Miyas_hat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529424494036131122" /></a><br /><div>Miya's mother loves to knit.</div><div><br /><div>Miya's mother loves to knit hats.</div><div><br /></div><div>Miya's mother knits Miya hats.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div>Miya does not like to knit.</div><div><br /></div><div>Miya does not like to wear hats.</div><div><br /></div><div>Miya does not like to wear knitted hats.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TLx2cOM3sCI/AAAAAAAABK4/8teyvk1dE0Y/s1600/winter_hat.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TLx2cOM3sCI/AAAAAAAABK4/8teyvk1dE0Y/s320/winter_hat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529424669724618786" /></a><br /></div><div>Miya's mother has to take pictures very quickly.<br /><br /></div></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-77502702067804812162010-09-17T10:37:00.000-07:002010-09-17T10:57:01.294-07:00Gymnastics!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TJOnVloneGI/AAAAAAAABJA/LJUR77vofeo/s1600/gym_sm.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 299px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TJOnVloneGI/AAAAAAAABJA/LJUR77vofeo/s320/gym_sm.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517937957780551778" /></a>Having mastered walking, Miya has been looking for new challenges. <div><br /></div><div>Given that her feet aren't quite long enough to reach the stirrups, horseback riding was out. Seeing as how her parents don't have a piano, she couldn't sign up for piano lessons. And although briefly considering para gliding, she recognized that with winter coming, it probably wasn't the best time.</div><div><br /></div><div>So when her mom presented her with option of a gymnastics class, Miya (literally) jumped at the chance. Her mother watched in awe as, in the first class, her 16-month old hung from the bars and rings, bounced on the trampoline and did headstands and somersaults. </div><div><br /></div><div>Miya is now working on convincing her parents to refurnish the house in foam padding, trampolines, tunnels and swings. </div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-89313822553117176812010-09-10T07:45:00.000-07:002010-09-10T09:53:48.338-07:00Summer at the Park<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TIpFZn_8AeI/AAAAAAAABIg/-CXereNmuxU/s1600/IonaPark.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TIpFZn_8AeI/AAAAAAAABIg/-CXereNmuxU/s320/IonaPark.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515297000204796386" /></a>The other day Miya was watching leaves falling from the tall trees surrounding our neighbourhood park. "Uh-oh," she said, pointing at them. Uh-oh indeed. Not only is the tree dropping its leaves (anything being dropped or thrown is 'uh-oh') but our warm summer days at the park are coming to an end.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TIpfgpVSifI/AAAAAAAABIw/3a4o-EqCwLw/s1600/park.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TIpfgpVSifI/AAAAAAAABIw/3a4o-EqCwLw/s320/park.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515325708124195314" /></a></div><div>The park has become practically a second home for Miya this summer. Often upon waking from a nap her first word will be 'park' - and sure enough, after a quick diaper change and a gathering of sun hat, snacks, water and other random toddler accoutrements, we are off to the park - not even five minutes from home.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TIpfUHWcn6I/AAAAAAAABIo/emMGiqXNqnc/s1600/pushtoy.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TIpfUHWcn6I/AAAAAAAABIo/emMGiqXNqnc/s320/pushtoy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515325492843814818" /></a>Miya is never lacking in ways to amuse herself - pushing around one of the park push toys, splashing in the wading pool, digging in the sand, climbing on the play structure, swinging, running and roaming - or simply sitting on a bench to have a snack and watch other kids. <div><br /></div><div>The lazy summer hours have slipped away and as much as I love fall, we will certainly miss our summer at the park.</div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-41849115299981933092010-08-14T11:59:00.000-07:002010-08-14T15:10:55.998-07:00She speaks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TGbn_5gHi1I/AAAAAAAABIY/FyJ73Aa_8oI/s1600/Miya_Aug_sm.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/TGbn_5gHi1I/AAAAAAAABIY/FyJ73Aa_8oI/s320/Miya_Aug_sm.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505342679460318034" /></a>After a long period of contemplative silence, Miya has stepped forth and begun to share her message with the world.<div><br /></div><div>It is a message of identification - baby, dog, duck, pea, bird, ball, milk...</div><div><br /></div><div>And of shared communication - neigh, baa, meow, roar, hoot...</div><div><br /></div><div>And of love - 'hug' is a popular word often accompanied by a demonstration.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes she engages her audience by making them guess at her intent. 'Duck', for example might mean truck, stuck, a yellow bird, an ostrich, or, of course, a duck. </div><div><br /></div><div>Perhaps acknowledging her parents' initial indecision over her name, she calls herself both Miya and Maya. Daddy she says often and with varying degrees of insistence, sometimes adding a yay at the end, especially at the end of the day as she anticipates his return from work. "Daddy-yay!" And for her mom she alternates between Momma and Mommy and proudly identifies various objects around the house as belonging to either 'Mommy' or 'Daddy'. </div><div><br /></div><div>Miya promises to continue to share her message with those around her, engaging passing people, dogs, squirrels, cats and birds with an enthusiastic 'hi'. We look forward to hearing what she has to say next. </div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-21410831071291531692010-07-23T07:52:00.000-07:002010-07-23T08:14:26.737-07:00A is for Apple<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzX3-3lQhESxptq1dsjq2-LEPV0w4O86AtsOlNL4KZIdG-_GezYzgW_YDHr-5V2roy-8D3L4WQQCgaHs9KgaQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><div>Big A, little a, what begins with A?</div><div><br /></div><div>Adorable apple-eater, A a A</div><div><br /></div><div>Big M, little m, what begins with M?</div><div><br /></div><div>Miya munching merrily, M m M</div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-85845491497267876222010-05-09T10:34:00.001-07:002010-05-09T11:10:44.924-07:00Mother's Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/S-byMkHILYI/AAAAAAAABH4/FKcBgeQiht0/s1600/Apr12_Anita+and+Miya.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/S-byMkHILYI/AAAAAAAABH4/FKcBgeQiht0/s320/Apr12_Anita+and+Miya.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469325095153970562" /></a>It's an amazing privilege to get to celebrate Mother's Day - not only because I am grateful to have a wonderful mother, but also because I am truly blessed to be a mother myself.<div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/S-b3cqS9tmI/AAAAAAAABII/DHKNS_sn8O8/s1600/Apr20_grandma+kiss.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/S-b3cqS9tmI/AAAAAAAABII/DHKNS_sn8O8/s320/Apr20_grandma+kiss.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469330869250274914" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'd heard it said that one can never understand the love a mother feels for her child until she has a child, and I know now how true this is.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Mother's Day isn't only a celebration of mothers, it's also a celebration of Grandmothers.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/S-b3TtCU2EI/AAAAAAAABIA/e7OPHy8eFZM/s1600/Apr12_Ajji.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/S-b3TtCU2EI/AAAAAAAABIA/e7OPHy8eFZM/s320/Apr12_Ajji.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469330715366971458" /></a>In April Miya got to see both her Grandma Bev and her Ajji (Grandma) Padma. Lots of love, cuddles and kisses - and not to mention a fair number of new toys and outfits! A very lucky little girl!</div></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-60420670140628674492010-03-30T15:41:00.000-07:002010-03-30T15:58:53.534-07:00Dorris da Door Worm<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/S7J_X9pf5vI/AAAAAAAABHQ/KFVJ0jSMr4c/s1600/Dorris_sm.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 187px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/S7J_X9pf5vI/AAAAAAAABHQ/KFVJ0jSMr4c/s320/Dorris_sm.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454562148361430770" /></a>Miya has many adorable toys. Plush teddies, a cuddly Eeyore, stuffed animals and soft blankets. So far, most of these have received only a passing interest. The teddy introduced to Miya as a bedtime 'lovey' is more likely to be bashed against the crib rails than to be cuddled with. <div><br /></div><div>Indeed, Miya has generally been quite indifferent to all her soft toys - that is, until she met Dorris.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dorris actually isn't even a toy. She is a door worm - something her mother knitted with scraps of yarn to block the light and noise at the big gap under Miya's bedroom door. </div><div><br /></div><div>But Dorris da Door Worm does not have to spend her days alone on the floor. One of Miya's favourite past-times is to take Dorris on walk-abouts around the house. She holds Dorris up and walks a ways, drops her, stoops and picks her up, holds her high and takes a few more steps, drops her, picks her up, takes a few more steps.... you get the picture. Apparently this is widely entertaining. Both Dorris and Miya are able to do this for great lengths of times, multiple times a day, every day of the week. </div><div><br /></div><div>Never underestimate the potential of a door worm.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-80625014519523315192010-02-06T15:17:00.000-08:002010-02-08T07:01:12.299-08:00Sleepy, sick baby<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyyKK6xdTh8nUwttMQyBmulOZQ6GTXWv8poAxoeLLaADAfXXOVqrXgU1BA8ejqMoE1NWFR1yE2Vp2nUcXV4AA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><div>Poor little Miya has her first real nasty cold. Her cute little nose has become a spout of runny snot. Her thick, wet coughs frighten the cats.<div><br /></div><div>On Friday I had to go in to work for a meeting, so V came home early to look after her. She hadn't been able to nap well during the day due to her congestion and coughs, so by 4:30 she was tuckered out. Our little baby, who is usually rather particular about how and when she naps, fell asleep in her daddy's arms. </div><div><br /></div><div>I came home to a quiet house. Well, not entirely quiet - poor congested baby with her little snores. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's obviously quite exhausting having a cold when you're only 9 months old.</div></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-74649641175590660572009-12-15T10:32:00.000-08:002009-12-15T11:05:18.966-08:00there's just something about tags<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/SyfXdo47EII/AAAAAAAABGA/d7POBdyxytg/s1600-h/tags.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/SyfXdo47EII/AAAAAAAABGA/d7POBdyxytg/s320/tags.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415533981128659074" /></a>Parents often make mistakes when selecting toys for their children. They look for bright colours, cutes faces and funny sounds. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But the most important part of a toy is how it tastes and feels in the mouth. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And the second most important part is the tag. Nothing beats a nice long tag. Really good toys even have several of them. </div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/SyfXifOumWI/AAAAAAAABGI/c6kEE1G49So/s1600-h/tags2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/SyfXifOumWI/AAAAAAAABGI/c6kEE1G49So/s320/tags2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415534064435108194" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Miya takes her tag play very seriously and puts a lot of concentration in it. She usually holds the toy in her left hand while the fingers on her right hand grasp, tug, flip and twist the tag. </div><div><br /></div><div>After a few minutes of this the tag is usually brought to the mouth for the compulsory taste-check. Then it is tossed to side the search for the next tag begins. </div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-64446368238008001762009-11-24T06:06:00.000-08:002009-11-24T06:36:22.316-08:00so this is love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/Swvop7zLuEI/AAAAAAAABFE/DDOB3XuubqQ/s1600/21_KLIMT_MOTHER_CHILE.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/Swvop7zLuEI/AAAAAAAABFE/DDOB3XuubqQ/s320/21_KLIMT_MOTHER_CHILE.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407671584713062466" /></a><div>When Miya was first born I didn't feel love for her, at least not in the way that I had ever felt love for someone before. What I did feel was fiercely protective and absolutely amazed. I marveled at her and everything she did, from her tiny sneezes to the strong grip in her little fingers. I even marveled that she was breathing. </div><div><br /></div><div>And while it may not have felt like love, I have never been so able or willing to sacrifice myself for someone before. In the first few weeks breastfeeding was difficult; my breasts were raw and bleeding. Each time she fed I gritted my teeth and curled my toes with pain. But she wanted my breast and I wanted to give it to her. When she couldn't settle I walked countless circles in our house, holding her little body in my arms as I sang to comfort and soothe her. When she would cry in the night, no matter what the hour or how tired I was, I responded to her. </div><div><br /></div><div><div>Most of the people in my life whom I love, I love by choice. With my daughter, there is no choice. I have been committed to her since the first time I heard her heart beating inside me. With other people I wait to see if we will get along. But Miya and I get along, not always smoothly and not always without misunderstandings. But from dawn to dusk to broken nights, we get along together, moving in a dance that I am only just learning the steps for.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div>I don't love her for what she says or does. Yet at the same time I love the little sounds she makes, the way she experiments with her voice. And I love the little things she does - the way she chews on her toes when lying on the change table, the way she presses her cheek against mine when I pick her up after a nap, the way she tilts back her head to look up and me and give me a gummy grin... </div></div><div><br /></div><div>I have never loved like this before. Because I do, because I can, and because I will, I feel so incredibly grateful.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2364232274120056430.post-51075127016813818542009-11-21T06:37:00.000-08:002009-11-21T07:01:46.320-08:00You are what you eat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/Swf8ETFhCPI/AAAAAAAABE8/saVbO0itKCQ/s1600/mealtime.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CvMuN5-k3Fk/Swf8ETFhCPI/AAAAAAAABE8/saVbO0itKCQ/s320/mealtime.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406567028454656242" /></a>Miya is working on a new look. It involves mixing a bit of cereal with some fruit or vegetable and then applying liberally to the face, hair, neck, hands and arms. For an extra flair she will sometimes dab it on her eyelashes. Who needs mascara when you have sweet potatoes?<div><br /></div><div>Miya is also happy to share her fashionable accessories with our cats. It did not take long for Bogey and Bacall to realize that by hanging out under the high chair at mealtimes they get drops of cereal and the occasional spoon to lick. They also often come away sporting Miya's style with gobs of cereal on their fur and whiskers. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thus far Miya has been generally preventing from taking her fashion to the streets as her outmoded mother usually wipes away each application before taking her daughter outside. But if you look closely you can usually find traces (hint: check behind the ears).<br /><div><br /></div></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435702384860159140noreply@blogger.com1