My Truant Pen

September 8, 2010

Some days are just like that

Filed under: Children — bflynn @ 8:42 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Today was not the day you look back on with fond remembrance. No. No it wasn’t.

Today actually started yesterday, when I was sick. I’m never sick. I am terrible at being sick. I have no sick skills. If you got grades for ability to be sick well, I’d get a D+. Maybe. I never believe I’m sick. I refuse to acknowledge I’m sick. When forced to confront the fact I’m, you know, sick, I then proceed to try to do things I shouldn’t do and apologize profusely about inconveniencing absolutely everyone and feel guilty when I end up watching Deadliest Catch on DVR instead of being Mrs. Productivepants. But yesterday, I had to admit I was too sick. My sentences weren’t sticking together. The verbs sort of drifted right while the nouns drifted left and the thesis statement sat down on the floor and wouldn’t move. I got sent home by my boss.

Well, it was obvious to me that if I was too sick to string together coherent sentences (and you don’t want to KNOW how long I started at my screen thinking “Maybe I should compose a blog post since I’m too sick to move” and couldn’t figure out how to make an entire sentence do my bidding.), I was probably not going to be sufficiently recovered to go into the office today. Plus I had no meetings. So I stayed home, drank tea, read YA novels and took care of myself.

HA! That’s what a smart person who is sick would do. *I* took a car in to the dealership and then worked from home, quite productively.

The cars are the second reason today was a crappy day. Just before we left to go camping, Brunhilde, a fine 2002 Saturn SL1 with automatic shifting and power locks and windows, baybee starting doing something veeeery funky with this clunk every time it shifted. We took it to Midas. They identified $500 of codes that needed to be fixed. We heaved deep sighs, thanked heavens for emergency funds, and coughed up our credit card number. When we returned from the camping trip and picked her up, my husband noticed that the problem was in no way resolved. He politely mentioned this to the folks at Midas. Who, apparently, hadn’t actually DRIVEN it. So he made an appointment to bring it in this morning. He had to walk back from the dealership to our house — about two miles — in the rain.

Meanwhile, while in the second car, our 2007 Toyota Matrix named Hrothgar (or Hrothcar if I’m feeling coy), about a year and a half ago my husband got in a fender bender. This fender bender, well, bent the fender. Or the side piece of plastic that goes under the doors and prevents, um, bad stuff from, um, doing things. I don’t know what it does, but he knocked it loose. We never fixed it because, eh. My pride is not much wrapped up in my cars. On our way back from camping, in a flash of brilliance, I decided to bring the boys through a car wash. They love car washes! This one was nice and powerful… and dislodged the fender thingy almost completely so that it dragged along the ground.

On the plus side: we had duct tape in the car because we were ready for camping. On the minus side: even I have too much car pride to willingly drive a vehicle held together by duct tape.

So, unbeknownst to my husband, *I* made a car appointment to get it super glued back on or something this morning, at the EXACT time his appointment was for at the dealership, 5 miles away.

Midas took another look at Brunhilde, said, “It’s the transmission. We can’t help you. But thanks for that $500!” The Toyota dealership said, “We don’t have the parts to fix this today, but we noticed your serpentine belt is all worn out. The part will cost $500 once we order it, and the belt is $200.”

So… we’re up to $1200, and we still haven’t fixed the transmission on Brunhilde.

But still! I was cheerful! I made dinner! I sashayed a little as I peeled eggplant! My husband took the kids to the park to play after school!

He came home a few minutes before I expected him to, though. Not much of a surprise. And Thane was crying. I’d be lying if I said that was highly unusual. But when my husband came through the door, ashen-faced, he said, “Thane’s been hurt.”

Thane’s right arm lay flaccid at his side. Touching it provoked screams. You could distract him for a minute or two, but the minute it shifted at all there were more screams. We gave him Tylenol, snuggles and an ice pack. He wept bitterly and made no move to extricate himself. I called in my trump card. You see, my neighbors are nurses — one of them is an ER nurse. It looked bad to me, but I’m a programmer. What do I know? My husband called my neighbor. I carried a wailing Thane over. She gently touched his hand. Screams. She tried to move his arm. Bitter tears. “You have to take him to the ER.” It was obvious to both of us that this child had broken his arm, or wrist, or maybe clavicle.

I packed snacks (ah! The joy of being an experienced mom!), left a dinner it had taken me 90 minutes to prepare on the stove for my husband and son, and strapped my wailing child into the car for a trip to the emergency room.

He stopped crying on the way there, and recovered enough to identify the color of cars we passed. Ah, Tylenol! But still, very injured child.

When we got out, I noticed he had Puppy clutched in the broken arm. Hmmmmm.

As we went through the vitals check, he pointed to trucks in the book with the “broken” arm. Hmm hmmm…..

As I held him to give the nice lady my name, rank, insurance number and free access to my checking account, he pushed me away. Hard. With both hands. Hmmmmmmmmmm hmmmmm hmmmmmmmm.

I sat down with him. I gently palpated his finger. His hand. His wrist. His arm. His elbow. His upper arm. His shoulder. I moved his arm up and down. Nada. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

I went up and apologized to the nice woman who had taken my information, and took my perfectly find child home.

On the one hand, I’m really glad he’s perfectly fine (and I really hope that Tylenol isn’t actually good enough to block the pain of a broken arm). On the other hand… seriously. I feel like a complete idiot. And I really try very hard to respect that professionals who I know in friendly contexts are my FRIENDS and not my personal physicians or something. And I made 90 minutes making that moussaka and it was cold when I got back and it wasn’t even goooooood. WAH!

So bring on Thursday, because Wednesday was not my favorite.

Addendum:
Except while I went downstairs to fold laundry. I was watching baseball, and Grey requested to accompany me. Then he asked me how to fold clothes. Then he folded ALL his clothes the way I showed him (mostly) and many of his daddy’s. He says he wants to help me fold laundry EVERY time. And then he put his clothes away.

Knock me over with a feather.

August 31, 2010

There once was a boy named Grey

Filed under: Children — bflynn @ 8:52 am
Tags: , , , , ,

Part of me thinks that I should “hold on” to good, milestone posts about my kids until they hit a good milestone. I mean, Grey is only a month away from his fifth birthday! He’s not going to change so much in the intervening month, so I’ll either miss a milestone update, repeat myself, or have to make stuff up. But the part of me that is a middle-aged and more experienced writer whispers “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a’flyin.” Which translates as “Write your blog posts when you’re thinking about them, idiot.”

Grey at Yosemite

Grey at Yosemite


So, Grey. Grey is almost five. If you ask him when his birthday is, he can tell you the date. He knows what day of the week it is every day, and what that means. He knows what month of the year it is, and what that means. He knows his brother’s birthday, and how old Thane will be, and will likely volunteer the information that when Grey is seven, Thane will be four. This is important because seven is the epitome of “grown up” and four, well, Grey is four so four is awesome!

Grey will not being going to Kindergarten this week. I’ve been wrestling with this for over a year. There’s lots of “one the one hand” and “on the other hand” going on. (The one hand is: he’s reading well, can count to 100 and is making light of his preschool curriculum. The other hand is: children tend to do well with an extra year’s emotional maturity before going to school, and Grey will be no exception. Also, he will spend the rest of his life as a big person… why rush it?) The third and final hand, though, is that there is no mechanism for testing in early and I don’t want to start him off in private school, so wait a year it is. I don’t think this will do him any harm.

The reading. Oh, the reading! So Grey first read a book all by himself nearly a year ago, at his 4 year checkup (to the surprise of his doctor and I). He spent several months with the ability to read a word or two. It’s hard work, though, and he preferred to let us do the reading. Since he’s four, and he deserves to still have his mommy and daddy read to him, we praised his reading efforts, cursed when he read something inconvenient to us, and continued to read to him.

But last night! My mother-in-law is here, so I have a few moments of this weird thing called “leisure”. Go ahead and look it up in the dictionary. I was using this precious commodity to read a book for work (hey, at least it was an interesting one). I asked Grey to read with me on the couch. First he read me the book “There’s a Wocket in My Pocket”. (Which, um, seriously. That’s not exactly easy. Do you know how many made-up words there are? He must have a decent grasp of phonics to do it, although he definitely uses rhymes to figure out the pronunciation of the nonce-words.) After that, I told him he had to read to himself. And so he got out a treasury of Little Critter stories and read THREE of them to himself. All by himself.

A quiet moment at a busy party

A quiet moment at a busy party


His reading is sophisticated. He uses funny voices, when appropriate. There’s rhythm and cadence. He sometimes corrects my interpretations when I read aloud to him. He stops at punctuation. He misses words because he is reading for content. It took me a while to figure out that’s a sign he’s reading better, not worse. But a word might say “that” and he’ll read it “the” because he’s taking a holistic view of the sentence. It makes sense. It still flows. But it means that he’s reading sentences instead of words. (And hey, my mom still does that sometimes!) But reading for entertainment!!! Squee!!!!

I bought him some new books to read this weekend while we’re camping. I hope we get him good and hooked.

He’s starting to get a better grasp on his temper. Obviously one of the big components of that is getting more sleep. I need to keep reminding myself how much easier his life is when he gets to bed early, because I get lazy and enjoy his company and don’t always get him to bed with alacrity. But if you take away his toy unfairly, he might yell at you, “I don’t like that!” This may not seem huge, but it is. He’s using his words to work through very hot and present emotions. He’s making huge strides in mastering control of himself.

We watched “Drunken Master” the other night. (What? Jackie Chan is totally kid-appropriate, and I won’t hear otherwise. I just tell him the wine is a magic potion!) He didn’t mind the Kung Fu, which is pretty ballet-like in truth, but he got very concerned when Jackie was really hungry and tried to steal a dinner. He shows empathy in very appropriate ways, I think. (He also loved Drunken Master. “I want to watch it EVERY home day!”)

Grey intellectually understands that effort and practice are the keys to becoming proficient. We were playing Mario Kart Wii and I’m bad enough that I wouldn’t throw the game to protect his ego. (I actually think we’re pretty evenly matched. I’m not a great video gamer.) He stormed off. Afterwards, tearfully, he told me, “I forgot that if I keep trying I’ll get better!”

Grey also likes Rock Band

Grey also likes Rock Band


There are still some challenges, of course, in Grey’s life. He’s a very picky eater, often turning up his nose at the delicious and laborious dinners I place in front of him. I find that hard to deal with. He has a tendency to be a bit emo… there are times when some black eyeliner and vampire-themed-clothing would not be out of place. He hates it when things don’t go perfectly his way. (Don’t we all?) We’re working on cutting out a nail-biting habit before it gets too ingrained. But if he was totally perfect, that would be annoying.
King of the Hill

King of the Hill


Emotionally, Grey is getting very complex. We were in the car the other day, driving home from aikido, and he told me, “Mom, did you know some old people are sad because they didn’t have any children?” Whoof. Complicated social concepts to explain on no notice … GO! So we talked about how for some people that’s true, how some people don’t have kids and aren’t sad about it, and how other people choose to find other ways of having children, like adopting. I finally figured out he’d watched “UP” and really taken to heart that wrenching first 20 minutes. We talked about how that couple was both very happy and a little sad.

Despite being a non-cuddly baby/toddler, Grey has turned into the world’s snuggliest preschooler. He often comes to hug me, give me kisses and snuggle me. He is very solicitous of my well-being, although he is also a big rough-houser. He’s getting big enough that we’re teaching him how to safely rough-house with us. But he is so gentle and kind, to me and to his little brother. And most especially to his two favorite animals du jour: Tigry and Puppy. They are his children. He’ll give you the complete family tree of all his stuffed animals, but they’re his favorites.

He tells me, without provocation or priming, that he loves me very much and that I am his “Sweet mommy”.

He is my sweet Grey.

Grey with Tigry and Puppy

Grey with Tigry and Puppy

August 20, 2010

August 11, 2010

Istanbul & Camp Gramp: Day 2

Filed under: Adventures,Children,Wider world — bflynn @ 7:52 am
Tags: , , ,

August 2 —

A gathering room in the harem

A gathering room in the harem


This morning was a tough start. Jet lag persists. But we roused ourselves and headed out to Topkepi Palace, ostensibly before the worst of the tourists hit. After a snag involving insufficient lira and government buildings that don’t take credit cards or dollars, we got in. We saw the harem first. It was lovely, with amazing detail work. There are, however, only so many Iznik tiles you can admire before they blur together. Then, by luck, we caught an open air concert of the military band. It was quite wonderful, although their trumpet section wasn’t up to my standards. After that the circumstances went downhill.
Historical Turkish Band

Historical Turkish Band


The place was packed with tourists of all stripes. The wait for the treasury was abominable, and the humidity was high. There were some neat things to be seen, but the heat, crowd, lines and lacking interpretations made it difficult for even the most intrepid museum-goers to flourish. We fled for lunch and a siesta.

After lunch we pursued a tip on where we might find a nice, handmade, leather purse…. Not a brand name or knockoff. We were unsuccessful in that quest, but met a nice salesman who admitted that he wasn’t really interested In selling us a purse, and didn’t have any relatives in the bazaar, but wished us luck. We walked home past the Golden Horn, the rail station that was the end of the Orient Express, and an expanse of the Bosporous. We sat in fading golden sun, our backs to ancient walls inscribed with Greek, watching crazy old men swim, fathers fishing with their sons, and mammoth ships negotiating turbulent waters.

My favorite spot on the Bosphorous

My favorite spot on the Bosphorous


A fine dinner, and then dessert on a rooftop restaurant, with a view of night lit Hagia Sophia on one side and the roiling waters of the
Bosporous on the other. My husband and I kept arguing about who had the better view.

Tomorrow is the Blue Mosque… We hope to catch that before the cruise ships overwhelm it. Then the Grand Bazaar in out ongoing purse quest, followed by a landmark cup of coffee in the Spice Bazaar.

Hagia Sophia on a sultry Istanbul night

Hagia Sophia on a sultry Istanbul night


At least that’s the plan!

We miss our boys. There are lots of kids here, so we are always reminded. Give them big hugs and kisses for us.

Brenda

Meanwhile, back in the States…
After spending the day looking at all the women in 1830 had to do, I guess shouldn’t complain. We went to Sturbridge Village. Minor complications, but for the most part, it was great fun. The Shirts (tie-dyed) were a hit! People knew we were together, anyway. We rode in the horse drawn carriage and took a ride on the boat. We saw the blacksmith. Pizza may not be 1830, but it was good. Dad got to see the sawmill working — something I saw last time. The children made candle holders. A good time was had by all.

I will try to get a picture of the crew at Sturbridge Village in tie dye off to you shortly. Dad’s is especially colorful!

Gramama and Papapa
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sounds like you are having a great time. So are we.

Sturbridge Village is really awesome. We can go again in the next 10 days free and I am thinking about it. Without Thane, it would be different. Of course, without children at all would be really interesting, but I don’t think we will manage that.

I have never seen a child that liked a bath better than Thane. My goodness. Better get tickets for the 2030 Olympics. I think he will be a swimmer.

The boys are fine. They are tired tonight, but they are both off to bed. Thane is asleep. Grey will be soon. We read lots of books tonight — it was great fun.

How do we get pictures on this computer? (Editor’s note with foreshadowing: I wish I’d managed to send her this information!!!)

Gramama

July 9, 2010

Camping, Round II

Filed under: Adventures,Children — bflynn @ 3:57 pm
Tags: , , ,

Last year, summer was replaced by several months of late April. I recall one or two blessed moments of warmth, between rain storms, but the camping last year was heavy on tarps and light on swimming. This year, so far, the weather has been fantastic!

I recall last year, when Thane was a 9 month old patiently accompanying us in his stroller, thinking that this was the hardest camping would be — it would never be so hard again. HA! My youngest child, delight of my heart, is a fantastic sleeper with one caveat: only when he is at home in his own bed an his own circumstances. Given the novelty of a bed where moving around is possible, he took full advantage of his liberty in order to not sleep.

Howdy howdy howdy. I'm a cowboy.

Howdy howdy howdy. I'm a cowboy.


Example Scene:
-Thane is obviously tired: eye-rubbing, cranky and easily upset
-Mom reads Thane several books, lays him gently on the air mattress, gives him Puppy and says “night night”!
-Thane looks angelic, thumb in his mouth with his hand wrapped around Puppy’s ear. (Note: Puppy is a rabbit. Ours is not to question why….)
-Thane lets out a deep sigh of contentment and says, blissed out, “Puppy”
-Mom leaves the tent (nearly tripping) certain that Thane will now go to sleep like he would in his bed
-A voice emerges as she zips up, “Mama?”
-More insistent “Mama? Mama. Mama! MAMA!!!!!”
-A Thane-shape appears outlined in the green nylon of the tent “MAAAAMAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!”
-Mom returns to the tent. Tucks Thane in with puppy. He gives an angelic sigh and sucks his thumb…. rinse and repeat. For several hours.

On the fourth of July, he got up at around 5:45 and caught only about half an hour’s nap. He stayed up until after the fireworks… nearly 11 pm. This from a kid who usually wakes up around 6:15, takes a 2.5 hour nap between 1 – 3:30 and goes to bed at 7:15 sharp (or you pay for it).

But other than the complete and utter lack of sleeping children, we had an awesome time camping. We’ve gone with the boys five times now? At five times, your traditions start to feel like real traditions. You begin to be an old hand. There are ways you “usually do things”.

Camping boys

Camping boys


One of the neatest parts of this particular camping trip is that it marks the first time Grey has been part of a kid-herd. These phenomenon, a relic of simpler times, have more or less disappeared from suburban neighborhoods (at least mine). On either side of our campsite was a gaggle of children, roughly Grey’s age. Both gaggles invited him to tag along. So for hours at a time I could SEE him, but he was over there, playing with the other kids, swapping silly bands and playing those imaginative games I remember so fondly from my youth. It was wonderful to have him safe, making friends, and playing outside (while I attempted to keep Thane from launching head-first into the fire or eating the Cheerios he’d dropped on the ground).

We did a lot of swimming this last time, since the weather was perfect for it. It’s a nerve-wracking time. When *I* was 4 I knew how to swim, or at least well enough. I didn’t have swimming lessons until I was 9 or so, but I recall being perfectly happy in the water, even when my feet didn’t touch. Grey isn’t there – not at all. We did swimming lessons last summer, but we missed half of them because we were camping. (Ah! Irony!) So we figured this year we’d wait until fall. In the interim, though, we keep Grey very close. Thane, in his continuing quest to give us gray hair, loves the following water sports: flinging yourself backwards until your ears are under water, falling down in the water (forward – allows you to see if your arms are long enough to reach the ground AND keep your mouth above water), falling down in the water (backward – babies have no core strength and really can’t do a “situp”), eel-imitation, and sand-eating. Also, taking whatever toys are unguarded on the shore.

There were notably fewer calm and relaxing swims out to the bouys this time than there were last summer.

Our big “car walk” this trip was up to Mt. Washington. I would hereby like to apologize for all my snide Northwest superiority regarding our mountains. I have long felt that any mountain you could drive up was no mountain. Then I drove the road up Mt. Washington. Now, I’m an experienced mountain driver. I grew up on car-commercial roads. But the 16% grades and no guard rails… well. Actually, I’m not so sure that’s a new experience (I remember particularly vividly a trip we took up to some Lion rock or some such thing up a one-lane logging road that had recently had a washout…. and let’s not even discuss the state of the road last time I went up Llad pass), but it was a rather daunting one. And Mt. Washington is pretty extreme. We went on a very, very hot day — temperatures in the mid-80s to low 90s. At the windswept top of the mountain it was about 50. And there was snow. So I’ll admit it. It’s a real mountain.

Adam & the boys at the top of New England

Adam & the boys at the top of New England


On my way back down, pausing to cool the brakes, I had the momentary thought that maybe, just maybe, on this adventure so like my childhood adventures (see also: Llad Pass) I was the first Johnstone to do this very-Johnstoneish trip. I reveled in the thought that there was a crazy, mountainous adventure that I got to first. Then I called my parents, “Yeah, that’s quite a road isn’t it?”

I should’ve known better.

The boys and me at the same spot

The boys and me at the same spot - the hat does move around!


It was a wonderful time. I really like camping. I like being out in the woods. I like resetting my view of the world. I like the depth and breadth of time I spend with my family. And I like cooking everything in bacon grease. I would really like to find some “camping buddies” — folks who wanted to share those bacon-grease cooked eggs, or who can handle a s’more with the best of them. Ideally, perhaps, someone with a few kids so we could have a built-in gaggle. (Also because anyone without kids would likely be really annoyed at the stuff it’s hard to do while camping AND be a responsible parent of young children.)

And this is obviously the hardest time of life to go camping. Next year? Will definitely be easier.

Next year, just wait mom!

Next year, just wait mom!

June 23, 2010

Too true not to share

Filed under: Children — bflynn @ 1:23 pm
Tags: , ,

I rarely post just links here, but this one was too good to pass up:

10 reasons having a toddler is liek being at a frat party

June 12, 2010

Aikido kid

Filed under: Children — bflynn @ 3:52 pm
Tags: , , ,

Last night my husband and I took advantage of the phenomenon known as “visiting grandparent” and went to see the new Jackie Chan “Karate Kid”. My beloved spouse was possibly less than enthused and set a minimum threshold for Rotten Tomatoes approval levels, which it just barely cleared. So off we went!

It was a tough story to watch from a parent’s point of view – to see a kid struggling and hurting and unwilling to ask from help from his mother. You hope you’ll never be as powerless to stop your child’s pain, but chances are excellent that you will — even if it isn’t Kung-fu master bullies. Anyway. It was not nearly as good as “Drunken Master”, is all I have to say.

It was less than 12 hours from Karate Kid to Aikido Kid. Grey has been doing Aikido, a defensive martial art since fall — before he turned 4. I’ve really enjoyed what it teaches him. You learn mostly by observation — there isn’t a lot of “talk” in the class. But the Sensei, Michael Baron brings an excellent mix of fun, humor and intimidation to the mat. The kids are expected to sit still and pay attention. They’re expected to run, jump and roll. They adore the “flaming sword of death”. They’re expected to follow rules and instructions. They’re getting VERY good at “Sensei Says”. And sometimes? Sensei cheats. That’s actually one of my favorite lessons…. that life isn’t always fair. What do you do when someone else has advantages you don’t? What do you do if everything has been carefully orchestrated to be perfectly fair your whole life, and then you get in a situation where it’s not?

Anyway, Grey had logged enough hours to test for his first belt, the yellow stripe. (Note: in grownup aikido you don’t get colored belts. There are two colors: white and black. You earn black when you’ve worked long enough that your previously white belt has finally turned black with age and sweat and dirt. But for the kids they bow to societal pressure.) But suddenly, after several months of enjoying it, he started not wanting to go. We explained he needed to practice hard for his test? He balked. I asked more questions, trying to figure out why he didn’t want to go. Finally he said, “I wish there less love about Aikido”. After waffling for a little while, we suddenly remembered he’s FOUR YEARS OLD and doesn’t need any pressure. So we told him he didn’t have to test and he could just go watch his friends take their tests.

There they were: four tiny figures on the mat. They warmed up and did some of their practices. Then Sensei asked who was ready to test, and Grey raised his hand. And test he did. He did shiko and rolls. He counted to five in Japanese. He knew tsuki, shomenuchi, kaiten, tenshin, tenkan, and several other techniques. (Note: I don’t pretend to know how to spell these terms.) He bowed appropriately. And he did very well!

When he got off the mat, he was a yellow stripe. I asked him how he felt. “I feel proud of myself.” Being proud of yourself is the greatest accomplishment you can earn, son. I’m proud of you too.

The aikido class

The aikido class

May 18, 2010

To be a lover of books

Filed under: Children,joy — bflynn @ 8:56 am
Tags: , , , , ,

What gifts and passions do we hope our children have? If we were fairies at a christening, what would we bestow? I’m coming to understand that the answer isn’t the same for all parents, that the “of course” attributes that I value are not the same ones other parents do. That’s part of what makes us so wondrously different. For me, there are some key attributes. Kindness. Integrity. Courage. Joyfulness.

But then there are the other things, the ones that I secretly really hope for, but know it’s not fair to expect. Love of music. The willingness to sing in public. Caring about what’s fun more than what’s cool. A love of nature. A disdain for hurting others. Stopping to watch the ants. Memorizing poetry for fun. And, critically, a love of books.

For that last one, at least, my parenting hopes look like they’re on track.

Last night, Grey requested the opportunity to read Thane on of his bedtime books. He selected his favorite from his room: Luke Skywalker’s Amazing Story. Starting with the title page, he read through it. He read about droids, and the Force, and Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, and Obi-Wan Kenobi and “rebel leaders”. Of course, many of the hardest words he’d remembered from other circumstances. Let’s be honest, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a bit tough to guess phonetically. But he pronounced “Aunt Beru” differently than I did. He corrected himself when he misread a word. He paused and analyzed some of the hard words. He read with inflection and meaning, and understood the words as he read them. And I sat there, hiding tears, amazed to learn (spoiler alert) that Luke Skywalker’s father was Darth Vader! You could see the effort he put in — he actually got tired towards the end and started making mistakes out of the fatigue of his effort. But that by itself points to the reality. My son is reading! He’s a reader! He loves it! He does it out of joy! I can almost see the doors of a vast new world opening to him, whether he sees it or not.

Now let us speak of my youngest. About a year ago, Thane went into a book stage. It was one of his first words. He showed unusual focus for a small child on listening to the stories. But, probably not coincidentally, around the time he started getting the ear infections, his love was transferred over to cars. Vroom! Clearly we continued reading to him at night and sometimes in between, but it was no longer “his thing”. Then, a few weeks ago, it all changed. Thane is having a passionate love affair with books. Specifically, books that you are reading to him. And woe betide all moments not happily consumed in book-ishness. Today was a tight morning, schedule-wise, so we ONLY read him about 5 books before breakfast.

This would be a happier thing if Thane wasn’t quite SO upset between readings. He regularly throws epic, grand-mal tantrums with 15 minutes of loud, disconsolate weeping, arching of back, and pounding of hands because you have cruelly and viciously REFUSED to read him a fourth book! Look! He has it right here! “Don’t Let The Pigeon Drive the Bus”! If he says “happy” enough times, surely you’ll understand and read it!?!? (NOTE: Books are identified by their loudest phrase. So “10 Minutes to Bedtime” is identified with “Bedtime”. In one of the Pigeon books, the Pigeon says he is “Happy, Happy HAAAPPPPPYYY!!!!” therefore all Pigeon books are “happy”. There’s a certain irony as he, tears streaming from his eyes, holds up the book and urgently says through his weeping “Happy! Happy!”) If you do not immediately oblige, the bitter crying starts. Last night when I was rapt listening to my eldest read a book, I was bouncing on my right leg a disconsolate Thane who kept bringing me different books in the fond hope that I’d finally read one to him, as he screamed and howled his disappointment.

This is, of course, a stage. You can’t multi-task and read “How Do Dinosaurs Eat Their Dinner”. I’m pretty sure that’s the point. Thane has figured out how to get whole and undivided attention from the people he loves: grab a book and plop your little diapered butt in their laps. Works every time. And of course, he really does love the books. Grey loved the alphabet at that age. He actually knew it all by 18 months. Thane? He loves the reading, specifically the one-on-one time with his parents. I don’t begrudge him, even as much as sometimes it would be nice to have him sated by, oh, three or four books.

One of the memorable moments of my shared childhood experience was a car trip where my parents and siblings and I talked about all the books that the younger of us had not read and the jealousy of the elders that they would be so fortunate as to experience them for the first time. My sons’ feet are on that road. Oh, what stories await!

May 9, 2010

Celebrations of a jet-lagged mother

Filed under: Adventures,Children,joy — bflynn @ 9:12 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

Smiles in sunshine

Smiles in sunshine


I still owe you some summaries of my trip to Europe. It was really a neat experience. Basically, we’d spent about 10 hours in a windowless conference room discussing projects. This does not merit blogging upon, except to touch on the fact I must be doing ok at the new job since they gave me a second high profile, big-deal project to manage. Not code, manage. Since that’s the direction I wanted to go, I’m trying very hard not to go into actual-coding withdrawal. Anyway, after 10 or so hours of complete senescence, we’d rise in order to drive to that night’s restaurant. And then we’d spend three or four hours eating. OH MY GOODNESS. I actually did gain 3 pounds in a week — a combination of lack of activity and 3 to 4 hour French dinners. I had beef, duck, white asparagus & rabbit. Yum!!!

My hotel in Obernai - from the back


On our way home, we flew about 50 miles north of the volcano. I watched the ash plume and the southward streamers heading to disrupt other planes. It was a quite a sight to watch.

When I got home, 100% of the human males were running temperatures. Thane scored triple medication during the week: otic eardrops with antibiotics, oral antibiotics & an antifungal cream for a diaper rash. Poor kid. Grey had gotten sent home with a 101 degree fever, which would’ve been worse if my husband hadn’t come home with a fever feeling terrible. So deeply jetlagged as I was, I was still in the best shape. Yesterday, we mostly vegged. There was lots of tv. And Wii. And computer games. Because really? There are times when it is appropriate to do your best lump-impression, and a rainy, stormy day when the entire family is sick counts as a good lump-day.

But today, against my more realistic expectations, everyone seemed fine. Great even! Amazing the impact that two naps can have on a body. So we went to church. It was a really awesome service. The kids are just an overwhelming force in the sanctuary. We were doing this Genesis creation play we’ve done before. There are about 20 elements of the play that the kids wave over their heads. We ran out.

And it was good

And it was good


Then after the service I got to chat with a new family who was visiting the church. It warms the cockles of the heart to see the congregation grow and thrive, and to watch those joyful and energetic young faces! I’d also like to say on the record that we don’t pay our preschool Sunday School teachers nearly enough. (Side note: I’ve discovered that our young adults are usually surprised and shocked to learn that the position of Sunday School teacher is an unpaid one.)
Thane and I at the top of the hill

Thane and I at the top of the hill


After service, I figured the kids would start wilting, but they were doing quite well, actually. My heart had been longing to go to the Arnold Arboretum for their annual lilac festival that happens on Sunday of Mother’s day. I had thought yesterday it was out of the question, but at the last minute on a whim (as you could tell by my inappropriate garb) we decided to go. We had a ball. There were the Morris dancers (I love Morris dancers). The sun was bright, but it was cool and windy. There was ice cream. There was wandering. We wandered through scads of fragrant lilacs. Grey rolled down a grassy hill about 10 times. You might hear rumors that I rolled down — in my Sunday dress. Mere rumors, I assure you. I’m far to dignified and well-socialized for such tomfoolery.
SAFE!

SAFE!


Of course, the remainder of the day was dinner and cleaning and grocery shopping and antibiotic dosing, etc. But you know what? I’ll take it. My Grey is so super snuggly and affectionate. I love this age, and I love who he is. He is so loving towards me, and the rest of the family. Today he made up a song about how much he loved Thane. And he gives me such great kisses and hugs — I wish I could bottle them against future adolescent dignity.

And now the Red Sox are actually winning a game against the Yankees (wonder of wonders!) and we have tickets for tomorrow (look for us in the Bleachers) and life is just good.

April 26, 2010

Thane at 18 months

Filed under: Children — bflynn @ 9:32 pm
Tags: , , ,

Today, my baby was graduated to the Toddler 1 room. No longer is he a Sweetpea. No, nor does he reside with the babies. He has been officially designated as a Toddler. And it’s true.

Thane and cars - modeling fashionable head gear

Thane and cars - modeling fashionable head gear


I’ll start off with confessions. It’s harder to “see” Thane than it was Grey at the same age, or even Grey now. Thane is in constant competition with his brother. One of these people can use words to form interested sentences. One of them cannot. One of them has a high-attention personality. The other of them, when all is well with him, happily entertains himself. So I notice that it’s much harder to focus on Thane, to see him for the delightful wonderful kid he is. Even when I try to set time aside, I find myself either appreciating the silence, or having his brother come up to see what’s going on. It’s hard to get one-on-one time with him. And as is pretty standard with 18 month olds, it can be hard to figure out what to DO together — at least after the 7th round of “Where’s Thane?!!?!” (Thane thinks wandering around with a blanket over his head is HILARIOUS!)

Thane loves his father, especially

Thane loves his father, especially


The great news is that Thane seems to be flourishing in this environment. If I sometimes rue that it’s hard to focus on my youngest because my eldest requests and requires my attention, that’s not how Thane sees it. Thane’s greatest hero is Grey. He’ll wake up in the night and ask after his brother. He perks up whenever Grey’s name is mentioned, even at daycare. He is unhappy if he knows Grey is nearby and he can’t be with him. When Grey cries (a common occurrence — we’re in the middle of another tantrum period) Thane will insist over and over on going to his brother “Gwey! Gwey! Gwey!” He’ll walk up the stairs and lurk outside his brother’s door, hitting it with tiny fists, calling his brother’s name. It may yet be early in their relationship, but the two of them seem to have a strong bond — each eager to be with the other.
Grey found a fun toy in the toybox

Grey found a fun toy in the toybox


This is not to say, of course, that there is no conflict in their relationship. Thane pays so much attention to Grey that it’s inevitable he’ll want to play with whatever Grey has. Although Thane seems to understand that some toys are not his, all chaos breaks loose when Grey is playing with one of Thane’s cars. The filial relationship is not always harmonious, but it’s still painted with overtones of loving and kindness.

Project “Use Your Own Two Feet Already” is meeting with rousing success! Thane is regularly walking from the car to the house (you don’t know what a big difference that can make until you make the trip with: one work backpack, one purse, one coffee mug, one bag of blankets for daycare, one bag clothes for the gym and two lunch boxes for daycare). He will walk about two blocks, nicely, holding hands. He can usually be propelled forward with the old chestnut of “Look, Thane! Grey’s up there! Let’s go get Grey!” He’s made tremendous strides in walking on his own, although if he sees a stroller he is still very interested in getting in it. He really loves being taken on walks, and even in his worst days will sit quietly as we walk through the neighborhood, as long as the scenery changes.

Confirmation Class of 2020 all lined up

Confirmation Class of 2020 all lined up


In further gross motor news, Thane is doing very very well with the stairs. Previous bloody incidents aside, we have great stairs for beginning crawlers — carpeted, not too steep and with landings. Thane walks up and down them holding hands, and can ascend and descend with great speed crawling. My heart always is in my mouth as he approaches the stairs, since he often looks like he’s going to try to walk down them, and his legs simply aren’t long enough to do that without toppling over. He is also becoming an expert at slides. We have a great “first slide” at church, which he gets up and down without any assistance. He likes the big slide at the playground, but I’m too chicken to permit him to use it much.
Unafraid of heights

Unafraid of heights


Linguistically, Thane is just about on target. He’s starting to work on the “ABC” song, but doesn’t get very far. He doesn’t have the patience for repetition of the letters of the alphabet his brother had at the same stage. This is ok — he has another 5 or so years before he really needs to have mastered his alphabet. He’s getting much better at mimicry, and will finally say his own name. (It’s really pretty adorable. He thumps his chest and says “Tay”). Then again, he’s also been known to call himself Marilyn (the name of his previous provider in the infant room). He knows a duck says “quack”. He says “genty” as he pets the “gat” (often quite ungently – patient animals!). A complete comprehended list might include: no (in answer to every question), apple, yogurt, applesauce, milk, water, cheese, oatmeal, cereal, blue, yellow, red, Grey, Mama, Dada, Thane, up, down, car, truck, bus, cat, puppy, ball, block, book, balloon, shoe, sock, coat, pants, diaper, bath, duck, quack, dinosaur (da-do), toothbrush (goo-ga), belly, nose, eye, ear, hair, happy, Spongebob (Bob Bob), cough-cough (he does fake coughs so I’ll say it) and probably some others. That’s not a bad list for 18 months old. He probably says many other words we don’t understand. He talks all the time, but much of it I still can’t understand.
It's hard to get pictures of his face, not just his golden curls

It's hard to get pictures of his face, not just his golden curls


Thane has exceptional patience and focus for particular tasks (when not hungry/tired/thirsty). Cars are currently the great joy of his life. He loves them. He carries them around and lines them up on any available surface. He LOVES being sat at the table to play with his trucks and toys, and sits quite nicely. He is particularly fond of my grandmother’s bells, which I have on a windowsill. He’ll sit on the old teak chest and ring and line up the bells, gazing out the window. His love-affair with dinosaurs seems only slightly diminished. He still really likes books about dinosaurs, and now points out other elements of interest in them (ducks, balls, balloons, puppies – don’t ask why these are common elements in dinosaur books. You don’t want to know.) But the cars seem the greatest theme to his play. He hasn’t yet started paying attention to screens. He very rarely sees them, since he’s usually with us while his brother is watching them in the living room. I’m just as happy, although I think I’d rather have Grey watching Sesame Street that Cartoon Network and their appalling wrestling-themed programming.

My baby is still the best sleeper I’ve ever witnessed in the age group. For Christmas, Santa gave him a rabbit we named “Mr. Bun”. He was having none of it. That rabbit’s name is and always shall be “Puppy”. You should see the joy and welcome that flash across his face when he reaches out for Puppy. Then he takes one ear in his hand, and while holding on to the ear, sucks his thumb. It’s the only time he ever does so. He’ll lie down, so content in his bed. I tuck him in and turn out the light and leave the room. Sometimes I hear him talking to himself after that, but he rarely needs attention.

What do you mean no more cake?

What do you mean no more cake?


For quite a while he gave the most hilarious kisses. He’d bring his sweet rosebud mouth next to your unsuspecting cheek and blow a very sloppy wet raspberry on it. I loved it, I confess. Made me laugh every time. Now, though, his kisses are taking on an actual kiss-like aspect, to my great regret.

When he’s tired, he’ll lay his head on my shoulder, and rest there for a brief moment. Usually, though, he’s indomitable, fearless, sturdy, adventurous, resourceful, charming, talkative and persistent. The experienced parents reading this list may note that some of these generally excellent attributes can make for, uh, challenging parenting. That’s true too. He’s nearly impossible to pull from an object he desires without simply picking him up. He’s strong, and has not yet learned that hitting is wrong. He can and will throw an epic tantrum when he believes it is called for. Sometimes, he can tire me out. But mostly, he brings me and those around him great joy.

And now, friends, he’s a true Toddler.

Thane, patiently being shorn

Thane, patiently being shorn

Edited to Add:
For my reference (since, let’s be honest, this blog is as much of a baby book as the poor kid gets), here are his stats:
Weight 27 lbs (65th %)
Height 33.5 inches (85th %)
Head circumference 19 in (65%)

1 teaspoon tylenol suspension (160 mg/5ml)

Next Page »

Blog at WordPress.com.