Vignettes

Grey seems to be doing very well in his new preschool. We’re hearing about his friends and the things he’s doing. He keeps careful tabs on what we’re packing for his lunch, and offers guidance on acceptable offering. He’s bringing home art projects. One recent one was about the tooth fairy. The question was “What does the tooth fairy do with the teeth she collects?” His answer was that “She cuts the teeth and wishes come out.” Neat! He’s also bringing home these awesome drawings with these elaborate back stories. He’s reading more and more (although I think that’s unrelated to preschool). He reads a lot more than I realize, sometimes, and can read entire books. He picks up lots and lots of written words. So he seems like he’s doing very well.

We also get these sheets on Thane’s progress. All I can say is man, that kid can eat. There’s an update on how much of his lunch he ate, and the answer is almost always nearly all of it. It’s also kind of funny how surprised and unused we are to him talking. The surgery was now about three weeks ago, so you’d think we would’ve adjusted, but he keeps being verbal in ways we don’t expect. It’s like if Maggie from the Simpsons broke out in a discourse with Lisa. For example, at dinner tonight Grey turned to him and asked “So Thane, how was your day at daycare?” (Aside: I love that Grey has internalized that dinner is sharing time — sometimes he’ll ask his father and I how our days were, too.) So far, so sweet. But then Thane replies, “Good!” Yoinks! Or Thane will come out with his new favorite word, “No.” He loves to do something he knows he’s not allowed to do, while saying “No” as though that somehow makes it ok? Unfortunately, the new daycare does NOT accommodate his need for a morning nap, which I really don’t understand. He’s 16 months old, as of this weekend. Plenty of 16 month olds haven’t dropped their morning nap yet, right? He plays hard, he eats hard, he sleeps hard. Actually, as he gets older, I think he looks more and more like my father – right down to the large feet. (He wears a shoe size only two sizes smaller than Grey does, and Grey is hardly small-footed. My father wears a size 13 wide.)

A spitting image of his grandfather
A spitting image of his grandfather

My first week at work was absolutely as good as a first week could be. I really like my coworkers. I’ve met oodles of people. I’m very well supported. I’ve gotten my first task, and I’m at the panic stage of learning a new language. It’s structured very differently than web technologies, and I haven’t figured out the structure yet. My colleagues come from very different backgrounds (Lotus Notes, for example) and can’t help me figure out the analogies because they don’t know where I’m coming from. So I’m doing the time-honored technique of reading everything I can find, staring at code samples, and waiting for it all to gel. It will. I know it will, it just requires (amazingly) hard work, open-mindedness, patience and sleep.

The storm last night was amazing. It would’ve been some blizzard if it had come down as snow. It came down as driving rain. The noise was astounding. It sounded like we were sleeping at the base of a waterfall. I have never heard such noise! The house, however, did not shake. I feel very secure in its old bones. On the other hand, we lost some of the gutters — all the way up to the roof line. They just need to be put back into place. Also, the trim on our windows is really quite rotted. Does anyone know what one does about that, other than hire a contractor to come replace all the trim in our windows? (Ah, yes. I suspect that’s the real answer.)

I’m loving the Olympics. I’ve tried to record the nightly programs, and they’re a lot of fun. I’m sad to see them come to a close. However, as the rains fall and the snow melts it comes to mind that not far away is spring training. Truck day has come and gone. Pitchers and catchers have reported. Position players are in Ft. Meyers. In fact, according to a quick trip to their site, the first Spring Training game is next week! Ah, winter. You do not ACTUALLY last forever. You just feel like it! For some reason, this winter has seemed less oppressive to me than usual. Perhaps it’s all the change in my life, or getting enough sleep for a week there.

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bflynn

Brenda currently lives in Stoneham MA, but grew up in Mineral WA. She is surrounded by men, with two sons, one husband and two boy cats. She plays trumpet at church, cans farmshare produce and works in software.

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