Little Bed Big Bed

In honor of Eliza's upcoming sixth birthday, Eliza moved from "little bed"

To "big bed" (yes they have names).

Biscuit, Cracker, Todd, Smutty, Cowy, Baby Biscuit and Kaloo all successfully made the transition as well.  I was beyond thankful that she picked out lovely bedding for "big bed" since she was first aiming for the hideously striped orange and red bedding!

Eliza also has a new writing table and insisted she needed garden flowers to help her write better.  Apparently the flower lights will contribute far more to her fine motor function than any number of sessions with her occupational therapist.

Eliza continues to impress me with her art work.  Eliza is currently in the Pokemon characters in oil pastels phase:

Her photography is coming along too!  The Canon DSLR weighs almost as much as she does but Eliza is able to hold the camera pretty well.  This is a Pacific Sailfish and a Barracuda (I think):

A Date With Matthew

Eliza can work "attitude" with the best of New Yorkers.  She can do good "tough girl" face, even while sporting a striped pompom hat and polka dot coat. 

Eliza is also branching out into the family business of photography.  Her photo of Matthew, taken with a Digital SLR that weighs almost as much as she does isn't too bad for a beginner, especially given that it was taken on a moving city bus.

But the tough girl face fades as she heads out on a play date with her cousin Matthew:

They both love the American Museum of Natural History.  The Rose Center for Earth and Science is the one place where Eliza weighs 85 pounds.  Well, at least that's what she would weigh on Jupiter :)

You can spin this around and see how the winds on the Sun appear and disappear.

Or you can just get really excited watching your pompom hat spin and the heck with the Sun.

Or you can learn that somewhere, to some people you are the center of the universe.

And after a great day with Matthew, you can just laugh out loud and let the world know you are one happy kid.

In Between

My mother is 89 and Eliza is almost 6.  They are both deeply loved and cherished.  And they can both be a handful.

Luckily, I have 2 hands.

There seem to be certain genetic traits that have passed from grandmother to granddaughter.  They are both, shall we say, stubborn, perhaps set in their ways, often very, very certain they are absolutely right and they share a deep seated dislike of the medical profession (although each oddly has one doctor they actually like, but just one each).  

Trying to care for both of them can be, well, trying at times.  I am pretty much midway in age between my mother and Eliza (OK, well a tad closer to my mother's age, but let's not quibble). I've never liked the phrase "sandwich generation" but I suppose it applies.  The type of sandwich depends on the day.  Some days things are going smoothly and it's a nice crunchy messy BLT that I can sit back and enjoy.  Other days it is more of a sticky peanut butter (no jelly) sandwich and it is all one can do to hold those two pieces of bread together.

Some people question my choices for Eliza when it comes to how she spends her free time and suggest she would benefit from classes or sporting activities on the weekends.  Rather than join a gym class or take swimming lessons on the weekends, we spend time with my mother.  To me it is more important that Eliza get to know her grandmother and spend time with her now.  While none of knows when the end is near, as mother points out, at 89 years old you can do some basic math :)  I think it is also healthy for my mom to have Eliza near her.  The change in my mom's spirit is almost visible as Eliza sits on her lap explaining the intricacies of the world of fire and water Pokemon or teaching my mother how to use an iPad.  Watching the iPad lessons alone is worth foregoing some Saturday ballet lessons.

So the next time you want to get all cranky on me that Eliza isn't learning team spirit by playing soccer on the weekends, remember that she is learning compassion by helping her Nana get her cane and empathy by comforting her Nana when she doesn't feel well.  Eliza is learning that the older generation is not to be cast aside and forgotten, but rather to be loved and cherished.  And she is learning that you can teach an old dog new tricks.  Just ask her Nana who knows all about Pokemon.

Santa Is Not in the North Pole

Contrary to popular belief, Santa does not live in the North Pole.  

He lives in New York City, because really, it is the most exciting place to be at Christmas.  Why would Santa want to hang out with a bunch of polar bears, when you can have this place as your home base:

Eliza will tell you that to get the new North Pole, you only need to take two subways:

And make sure everyone on the subway knows what you want from Santa, just in case they would like to get you a Wii:

Instead of navigating snowy footpaths to Santa's house, you just have to make your way through the evening commuters at the 34th Street station:

And that's where you find Santa's house:

First, it is important to check out how Santa has decorated his house at Macy's:

Make sure everyone in your family has their reindeer antlers on:

Be nice to Santa's elves and give them a thumbs up:

It is important to give your list some serious thought, in case there are last minute revisions:

Double check that you family elves are looking cheery for Santa:

Try to act sincere and deserving while Santa is reading your list:

Explain in detail what a Wii is to Santa:

Approach Santa with reverence:

Explain the whole Wii thing again just in case he didn't get it the first time:

And then act pleased as punch when he tells you that you have been good and this might result in a Wii being delivered to your apartment, via the fire escape, which frankly is far safer for Santa than squeezing down a chimney:

Be sure to explain to Super Pete what a Wii is so that he can help you play with it:

And last, but not least, eat a dirty water hot dog from a street vendor to bring your Mama the best Christmas present since you were born:

And that my friends is how we find Santa in New York City!

Eliza's Relationship with Santa

2006:   Fits in the palm of Santa's hand:

2007:   Deer in the headlights:

2008:  Abject terror and she leaps from Santa's lap (scaring the bejesus out of Santa):


2009:  Starting to think this isn't so bad, but certainly not talking to Santa:

2010:  Quite thrilled with the old guy and even chatted it up with Santa:




And an added bonus for 2010, the Richter Cousins in their Ugly Sweaters:

2011:  The dynamic changed.

Eliza realized that Santa was the key to getting a Wii, and World Peace.

She was very big on World Peace and repeatedly pointed out to Santa that this was an excellent gift, because she loves everyone and everyone should love each other, right?

Luckily for us there was NO ONE at Santaland (I am not revealing our secret since next year the whole world will be there).  So Eliza had a bit of time to chat things up with Santa, explain what a Wii was, give him a hug, point out that she was wearing Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer antlers (surely another reason for Santa to bring her a Wii), and even give him a few kisses.  Eliza also decided to give him a thumbs up (over and over again).  Anyone who is familiar with Sonic the Hedgehog, knows that this is a classic Sonic move.  Clearly Eliza was reinforcing the idea that a Wii with a Sonic game would be the best Christmas present ever.

The Richter Family photo expanded this year to include Peter, Dana, Matthew and Adriana.  A good Santa crew!

We splurged and paid the extra $10 for the family photo in front of the trees.  The elves get very testy when you try to take your own photo in front of the special Santa trees.

We capped the evening off with a pedicab ride.... but that is a whole other saga for another post.

Eliza's Papa

Today marks the third anniversary of my Dad's death.  It seems hard to believe that three years have passed so quickly.

My Dad made almost daily trips to the NICU from New Jersey with my Mom to visit Eliza during her 100 days in the NICU.

When Eliza came home from the NICU, Daddy delighted in spending time with her.

Daddy enjoyed Eliza's first Christmas and she clearly loved him.

One of Daddy's favorite places was sitting under the bell tree in our yard on Saba.  While some people may find it irreverent, one of Eliza's favorite places at our house is sitting on Daddy's bench under the same tree.  I am sure that Daddy delights in her visits and is smiling down on her whenever she sits on his bench and enjoys sunshine.

I still miss him everyday.

It's That Time of Year Again

Yes folks, it is Prematurity Awareness Month.

Annually I am compelled to post on this topic, to let folks know that prematurity sucks.

So tonight I started to write my blog post on this topic, rambling on about how babies need 40 weeks of baking (34, 35, 36, 37 weeks are not enough folks) and that wishing your baby comes "early" (even by only a few weeks) to fit your personal or social schedule is not only selfish, but just plain old stupid.

I started to write about the emotional, psychological and financial toll having a premature child takes on parents and their extended circle of friends and family.

I started to write about how annoying it is to hear people say it was "God's will" or I was "chosen" by some higher being for this special role in life.

And then I realized, that this all sounded oddly familiar.  Really familiar.

So I looked back to last year and guess what?  I already wrote almost the exact same post I had drafted for this year.  You can read last November's "A Public Service Announcement"  by going to the link or reading below:  

November is Prematurity Awareness Month.



I think the main thing we need to be aware of about prematurity is that it sucks.


It really sucks.


Prematurity takes what should be a normal infancy and turns it into a journey into medical hell. It robs both parent and child of a normal infancy. Instead of filling baby books with milestones like "smiled for the first time" you make note of milestones like "weaned off ventilator." You and your baby are robbed of quiet, private moments. Instead, the two of you spend those moments in a room filled with strangers, doctors, nurses, monitors, alarms and machinery you didn't even know existed when you filling out your baby registry. People tell you well intentioned, yet terribly stupid things, like "things happen for a reason," "God doesn't give you more than you can bear," "at least you never got stretch marks since the baby was born so early" or "you're lucky you get to sleep at night since the baby is in the hospital."


You wake up day after day wondering if this is the last day you will see your child.


Prematurity financially devastates families. Contrary to popular belief, there is no insurance fairy who pays the tens of thousands of dollars of co-pays or the endless "uncovered" things like speech therapy or adaptive equipment. Even "good" insurance isn't "good enough" to cover prematurity. Instead of paying for a babysitter, you have to pay for a nurse to watch your child, instead of daycare, you have to hire a nanny, instead of working full time you have to take a leave or work part time because of the sheer number of medical appointments your child will have after leaving the NICU.


Prematurity is isolating, physically and emotionally. Because of the baby's fragile immune system, you have to limit to whom and what the baby is exposed. Of course friends and family assume you are simply nuts, because, as they will all tell you over and over, everyone needs to be exposed to germs. Actually not. It is emotionally isolating because no one, other than the other shipmates on the SS Prematurity have even a clue as to what it is like to take your infant to a minimum of one doctor visit every week, not have a single day for just you and your baby because three therapists show up everyday, on schedules that are convenient to them not you and your baby.


Prematurity devastates families emotionally (see all of the above).


So what can we all do to help make this suck less?


Well, you can donate money to various charities in the hope that some of the research they fund might end prematurity. Or you can do something a bit closer to home and more personal. Call your local NICU or its support group and ask what you can do to make this whole thing suck less. Small things can make prematurity suck less. For example, my mother, my aunt and I make blankets and hats for the babies. There are dozens and dozens of babies that have worn my aunt's tiny "wee caps" and many who have been warmed by one of my mom's blankets and even though my blankets are far from "perfect" they are made with love. Some people make isolette covers, some people donate disposable cameras for parents to leave at the baby's bedside (yes we do take photos of our babies in the NICU), other folks donate gifts cards for coffee or gasoline to be given to those in need in the NICU. Others donate story books to the NICU (yes we read to our babies the same as you would at home). If you are feeling really generous, ask if you can send over bagels and coffee for a Sunday brunch for the parents and nurses (they get hungry too). Not all parents in the NICU can afford NICU clothes for their baby, so think about donating some NICU shirts or preemie clothes to your local NICU.


Even if you can't prevent premature births, you can make prematurity suck less for the parents and the babies who are in the NICU right in your hometown.


So this November, let's see if we can all make prematurity suck less.


And if you are still confused about why prematurity sucks, you can compare these photos.  While Eliza is beautiful to me in both photos, you tell me which way you would like your baby, and all babies, to begin their lives:

Eliza at 1 month after her due date (a/k/a a "newborn"):

Eliza as a 4 day old newborn:

Are you getting the idea?  I sure hope so.