Okay, it was yesterday's.
The bus driver printed off two extra transfers for my kids, who are too young to use bus tickets or need transfers. Obviously, this guy was tuned in to how left out little ones feel when they don't get a transfer, too!
Anyway, Alec - aged 2 - promptly said "thank you!" And the driver commented, "what good manners!"
I was so darned proud.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Easy Bein' Green
These photos were taken when the children were within two months of the same age. Joffre was around 23 months, and Alec 25.
Yes, I know, I'm shameless.
Yes, I know, I'm shameless.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Harsh Truth
Just when you think it's finally safe to only carry one spare set of children's clothing around in your albatross - I mean diaper bag - it's not.
Scarecrow
I saw the oddest thing on the way to a friend's house today:
Yes, that's a baby doll, suspended and twisting in the breeze over a vegetable garden.
One assumes it must be quite effective at keeping the birds away. Lord knows it creeped me right out.
Yes, that's a baby doll, suspended and twisting in the breeze over a vegetable garden.
One assumes it must be quite effective at keeping the birds away. Lord knows it creeped me right out.
Feeding Hope
Alec keeps nurturing our fantasies of unbroken sleep by sleeping through - from time to time. He did it again two nights ago. Someday, I fervently hope, this will be the norm and not the exception . . .
Death and Good Omens
So, I've been re-reading Good Omens, written by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Both Pratchett and Gaiman have written Death as a character in their solo careers, and here they are, respectively:
The Death that figures in Good Omens is more along the lines of the former, Grim Reaper type, as he is one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. And that sort of makes sense.
I do wonder, however, if there was some debate over which Death to use. Because the one that ended up in Good Omens really seems like Pratchett's handiwork. He even talks in ALL CAPS.
The Death that figures in Good Omens is more along the lines of the former, Grim Reaper type, as he is one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. And that sort of makes sense.
I do wonder, however, if there was some debate over which Death to use. Because the one that ended up in Good Omens really seems like Pratchett's handiwork. He even talks in ALL CAPS.
Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
The latest stage in the toilet training (entirely on him, I'm not pushing it):
1: fill diaper
2: realize diaper has been filled
3: go to bathroom alone, remove pants and diaper alone
4: attempt to climb onto toilet alone (usually achieved with the help of a stool)
5: call Mom
It's hard to get upset, even when faced with such an unspeakable mess, with someone who's so cute, and who's trying so hard.
1: fill diaper
2: realize diaper has been filled
3: go to bathroom alone, remove pants and diaper alone
4: attempt to climb onto toilet alone (usually achieved with the help of a stool)
5: call Mom
It's hard to get upset, even when faced with such an unspeakable mess, with someone who's so cute, and who's trying so hard.
Serenade
This morning I was treated to the following musical extravaganza:
-Spiderman, spiderman, itza, itza, spiderman . . .
-EEE-I-EEE-I-OHHHHH!
-No! Spiderman, spiderman -
-EEE-AAAIII-EEE-IIII-OOOOOH!
et cetera.
And: a b c d e f g h i j k eleneno p, q r s, p u b, w x y and zed!
-Spiderman, spiderman, itza, itza, spiderman . . .
-EEE-I-EEE-I-OHHHHH!
-No! Spiderman, spiderman -
-EEE-AAAIII-EEE-IIII-OOOOOH!
et cetera.
And: a b c d e f g h i j k eleneno p, q r s, p u b, w x y and zed!
Monday, June 18, 2007
Doin' Good, Feelin' Good
We joined the CAN - Cooperative Auto Network. This is a vehicle co-op, where you pay a flat fee to join (reimbursable when you leave), and then pay a small monthly fee and mileage costs to drive vehicles in the pool. So far it's working pretty well, although because of booking vehicles late, Aaron has had to bus to pick up the vehicle, and then bus back after dropping it off. But it has been nice to have the option to drive from time to time - well, for him to drive, anyway.
And the coolest thing about the minivan we had is . . . built-in car seats! The backs of the middle bank of seats fold down to reveal five-point-harness restraints, good for 20-50 lbs of kid (mine, at 30 and 46 lbs, fit perfectly). No lugging our car seats in and out, no fussing with installation, nothing. Now that's convenient!
And the coolest thing about the minivan we had is . . . built-in car seats! The backs of the middle bank of seats fold down to reveal five-point-harness restraints, good for 20-50 lbs of kid (mine, at 30 and 46 lbs, fit perfectly). No lugging our car seats in and out, no fussing with installation, nothing. Now that's convenient!
Must . . . Not . . . Laugh!!
The kids were having a snack at the table today while I cleaned up the kitchen. All of a sudden, Alec said, "Look, Mommy!" I turned and looked at him, and he had a peanut-buttery Ritz cracker stuck to each cheek. I would have taken a picture, but I really didn't want to encourage him.
It was darned cute, though!
It was darned cute, though!
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Moments of Insight
One doesn't usually think of a preschooler as possessing a great deal of perspective, or long-term vision. So I was surprised the other day when Joffre came down the stairs and said, "Mom, some day, we will move to a different new house, and then this will be our old house. Like our house in Peru is our old house now."
At the aquarium today, they had a case full of poles or ledges where row upon row of chrysalises in varying stages of development hung. Some had butterflies sitting on them, newly emerged, and two or three butterflies were flitting around the case.
Like this:
It was with glee that I called Joffre over and began to explain the process to him. He interrupted me and said, "Mom, those butterflies come out of the capullos," and made a little pod with his hands. I asked him what they were before they went into the capullos, and he pondered for a minute before his eyes lit up and he whispered conspiratorially "cat-er-pill-ers!" Capullo, I have learned, means "cocoon" in Spanish.
At the aquarium today, they had a case full of poles or ledges where row upon row of chrysalises in varying stages of development hung. Some had butterflies sitting on them, newly emerged, and two or three butterflies were flitting around the case.
Like this:
It was with glee that I called Joffre over and began to explain the process to him. He interrupted me and said, "Mom, those butterflies come out of the capullos," and made a little pod with his hands. I asked him what they were before they went into the capullos, and he pondered for a minute before his eyes lit up and he whispered conspiratorially "cat-er-pill-ers!" Capullo, I have learned, means "cocoon" in Spanish.
Eventually They Will Break Your Heart
Because shouts of "you're not my mom!" or "I don't love you anymore!" fail to soften my stony heart, I thought I was immune to the careless stings that children inflict. I was wrong.
Last week, Joffre asked me: "Mom, you made me in your tummy?" And I said yes. And he thought about this for a little while, and then asked, hesitantly, politely, "and . . Mom? You just want to make me with one ear not hear good?"
All I could do was try to explain that mommies don't plan or control how babies are made, and that sometimes things just get made a little bit differently, and there's no controlling or managing that. I told him that we didn't know before he was born if he would have blue eyes or brown, or even if he would be a boy or a girl. He found this vastly amusing, and it diffused the tension.
Then today, after a busy morning at the aquarium, Joffre was grumping in the back seat (probably because he now wants to live at the aquarium). Out of nowhere, he asked, "Mom, why you wanted to grow two babies?" After a moment's consideration, I said, "I wanted you to have a baby brother or sister so you wouldn't get lonely." Aaron said, "how many do you think we should have had, Joffre?" To which Joffre starkly replied, "zero."
Ouch.
Last week, Joffre asked me: "Mom, you made me in your tummy?" And I said yes. And he thought about this for a little while, and then asked, hesitantly, politely, "and . . Mom? You just want to make me with one ear not hear good?"
All I could do was try to explain that mommies don't plan or control how babies are made, and that sometimes things just get made a little bit differently, and there's no controlling or managing that. I told him that we didn't know before he was born if he would have blue eyes or brown, or even if he would be a boy or a girl. He found this vastly amusing, and it diffused the tension.
Then today, after a busy morning at the aquarium, Joffre was grumping in the back seat (probably because he now wants to live at the aquarium). Out of nowhere, he asked, "Mom, why you wanted to grow two babies?" After a moment's consideration, I said, "I wanted you to have a baby brother or sister so you wouldn't get lonely." Aaron said, "how many do you think we should have had, Joffre?" To which Joffre starkly replied, "zero."
Ouch.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
There's Just No Respect
Shouldn't there be an age limit on attitude problems? I mean, isn't 2 a little young to be refusing to call your mother "Mommy," and saying "Ain-ya" (Melania) instead? Or, when you are saying Mommy, to chant it over and over in the exact same tones that Dora the Explorer says "Swiper, No Swiping! - "Mommy, No Mommy! Mommy, No Mommy!"
*sigh*
And then the other day, when Joffre suddenly decided that the cup he was drinking out of was his brother's, and I said it was his, that Alec's was the red and yellow one, he replied, "I don't love you anymore." Surely such a declaration should be in response to a graver offense?
*sigh*
And then the other day, when Joffre suddenly decided that the cup he was drinking out of was his brother's, and I said it was his, that Alec's was the red and yellow one, he replied, "I don't love you anymore." Surely such a declaration should be in response to a graver offense?
I've Become "That" Parent
Okay, there are thousands of "that" parents. I've become the one that has kids with Food Issues (nut allergy in the case of Joffre, horrible reactions to whole wheat {upon which I won't elaborate} in the case of Alec). I had hoped to avoid it, but the threat of anaphylactic shock, or at least unspeakable diapers, changed all that.
I've also become the parent who sees other parents doing unfathomable things in public, and tut-tuts - occasionally audibly. Like the mother with a boy of about four or five at Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (swashbuckling horrors abound). And that's not the worst of it: it's bad enough to take little tiny children to see Pirates of the Caribbean, but to take them to Constantine? As I wrote in another blog after seeing Constantine in 2005:
"Constantine is a violent, scary movie. There are nasty demon possessions, violent exorcisms, people's faces melting off, graphic wrist-slashing images, grotesque shape shifting, death-by-having-flies-pour-out-of-one's-mouth-nose-and-eyes . . . oh, and a man forcibly drowns a woman. On top of all the usual flamethrowers, guns, and bloody, vicious fist fights. But, hey, that didn't stop the people two rows up from us from bringing their little kids to the movie. The children looked to be about 7 and 5 years old. The younger one spent the movie in her mom's lap, hiding her face, and at some point she dozed off. I saw the father reassuring the older one a few times. There was no crying, or anything, but for God's sake!! Who takes their little children to a movie like that??? Sure, these kids have probably been inoculated by having watched violent television since birth, but still. It took effort on my part not to walk up and comment. Not that it would have done any good."
And I finally succumbed, after the 547,621st "why?", to saying "because I said so!!"
I've also become the parent who sees other parents doing unfathomable things in public, and tut-tuts - occasionally audibly. Like the mother with a boy of about four or five at Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (swashbuckling horrors abound). And that's not the worst of it: it's bad enough to take little tiny children to see Pirates of the Caribbean, but to take them to Constantine? As I wrote in another blog after seeing Constantine in 2005:
"Constantine is a violent, scary movie. There are nasty demon possessions, violent exorcisms, people's faces melting off, graphic wrist-slashing images, grotesque shape shifting, death-by-having-flies-pour-out-of-one's-mouth-nose-and-eyes . . . oh, and a man forcibly drowns a woman. On top of all the usual flamethrowers, guns, and bloody, vicious fist fights. But, hey, that didn't stop the people two rows up from us from bringing their little kids to the movie. The children looked to be about 7 and 5 years old. The younger one spent the movie in her mom's lap, hiding her face, and at some point she dozed off. I saw the father reassuring the older one a few times. There was no crying, or anything, but for God's sake!! Who takes their little children to a movie like that??? Sure, these kids have probably been inoculated by having watched violent television since birth, but still. It took effort on my part not to walk up and comment. Not that it would have done any good."
And I finally succumbed, after the 547,621st "why?", to saying "because I said so!!"
Portrait of a Procrastinator
Friend who has completed law school: So, how do you feel about the 100% exams in the spring?
What I said: Well, I think all you can do is learn for the sake of learning, of really knowing your stuff, and treat the exam as the chance to prove what you know. I mean, all exams (and assignments) add up to 100% anyway, right? I suppose it becomes harder to gauge how you're doing, but again, if you're really applying yourself, I think you'll have a good sense of how you're doing, just from how well you understand and navigate the material.
What I thought: Cool! No December exams!!
EDIT: It turns out that there are December exams - but they don't count for anything. Like a dry run.
What I said: Well, I think all you can do is learn for the sake of learning, of really knowing your stuff, and treat the exam as the chance to prove what you know. I mean, all exams (and assignments) add up to 100% anyway, right? I suppose it becomes harder to gauge how you're doing, but again, if you're really applying yourself, I think you'll have a good sense of how you're doing, just from how well you understand and navigate the material.
What I thought: Cool! No December exams!!
EDIT: It turns out that there are December exams - but they don't count for anything. Like a dry run.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Just Try Not to Think Too Hard About It
Children's programming is bizarre when filtered through the lens of adulthood. There's something about a pleasant, robust male voice saying, "I thought you had the chinchillas - the mayor's not going to be too happy about this" that makes my brain hurt.
And don't get me started on Boobah. Brrr.
And don't get me started on Boobah. Brrr.
Luckily/Unluckily
There's an old storytelling exercise where the players contribute each sentence in turn, always alternating "luckily" and "unluckily" as opening words. Like this:
Unluckily, the man fell out of the apple tree.
Luckily, he landed on a pillow.
Unluckily, the pillow was sitting on top of a picket fence.
And so on. Or, in the case of my day:
Luckily, Alec has decided to embrace toilet training.
Unluckily, he doesn't like to tell me when he needs to go.
Luckily, he has learned to take off his own diapers.
Unluckily, this means he's bare-bottomed a lot of the time.
Luckily, he can climb a stool to get to the toilet by himself.
Unluckily, he doesn't always make it in time.
Luckily, I have really helpful kids who love to get involved in the cleaning up.
Unluckily, enthusiastic preschooler help in cleaning up messy poop off a carpet tends only to make the process far messier and more complicated.
And so on . . .
Unluckily, the man fell out of the apple tree.
Luckily, he landed on a pillow.
Unluckily, the pillow was sitting on top of a picket fence.
And so on. Or, in the case of my day:
Luckily, Alec has decided to embrace toilet training.
Unluckily, he doesn't like to tell me when he needs to go.
Luckily, he has learned to take off his own diapers.
Unluckily, this means he's bare-bottomed a lot of the time.
Luckily, he can climb a stool to get to the toilet by himself.
Unluckily, he doesn't always make it in time.
Luckily, I have really helpful kids who love to get involved in the cleaning up.
Unluckily, enthusiastic preschooler help in cleaning up messy poop off a carpet tends only to make the process far messier and more complicated.
And so on . . .
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
No Fool Like an Old Fool
I should really know better than to leave Alec unattended for any length of time, but Joffre was napping, and Alec was playing peacefully with toys, so I sat down to catch up on some emails. I had left the breakfast dishes on the table, as well as a box of foodstuffs from Peru. All of a sudden, I heard a 'clink' in the dining room, so I went downstairs to find Alec sitting at the table, happy as a clam, having a little snack. My two initial thoughts?
1: I'm so glad I can wash my dining room chairs with soap and water,
2: How can anyone have eaten a bowl of rice krispies with that much paprika on them?
1: I'm so glad I can wash my dining room chairs with soap and water,
2: How can anyone have eaten a bowl of rice krispies with that much paprika on them?
The Senseless Tyranny of Gendered Colours
Why are purple and pink girl colours? Why? Why can't boys like those colours??
According to Google Answers, up until the 1950s pink was not specifically for girls and blue for boys. In fact, the history I found quotes The Sunday Sentinal in 1914 and the Ladies' Home Journal in 1918 as recommending pink for boys and blue for girls. A further comment on that site points out that the researcher could not in fact find any such recommendation in the named issue of the LHJ.
Blue is of course the colour most strongly associated with the virgin Mary, and in the Middle Ages, blue was associated with true love and faithfulness. Apparently blue was commonly used for boys' school uniforms as early as the 17th century - not because there was any particular association between boys and blue, but because blue dyes were cheap. Blue sashes on Empire dresses were de rigueur at the beginning of the 19th century. Theodore Roosevelt's daughter Alice, born in 1884, famously wore a light grey-blue colour that became hugely popular, and was known as "Alice Blue."
Stories abound that pink was considered a masculine colour until the beginning of the 20th century. Whether or not this is true, both blue and pink were worn by boys historically. Less famous than Gainsborough's "Blue Boy" painting is its companion "Pink Boy."
Some point out that the Nazis use of the pink triangle to identify homosexuals indicates a link between pink and femininity by the 1930s.
We can surmise, then, that the stark delineation between blue for boys and pink for girls did emerge sometime in the early 20th century, for reasons historians seem unable to produce, and today is considered to be carved in stone. Oh, sure, girls can wear blue, if the clothing is girly enough, or the girl has long enough/styled enough hair, and men who follow the right sort of high fashion magazines can wear pink silk ties and shirts, but heaven forbid that your four-year-old son have his heart set on Dora the Explorer running shoes:
Or hot pink soup bowls. We bought the latter, but just couldn't bring ourselves to go for the former. We might as well draw a target on his back, at that point.
According to Google Answers, up until the 1950s pink was not specifically for girls and blue for boys. In fact, the history I found quotes The Sunday Sentinal in 1914 and the Ladies' Home Journal in 1918 as recommending pink for boys and blue for girls. A further comment on that site points out that the researcher could not in fact find any such recommendation in the named issue of the LHJ.
Blue is of course the colour most strongly associated with the virgin Mary, and in the Middle Ages, blue was associated with true love and faithfulness. Apparently blue was commonly used for boys' school uniforms as early as the 17th century - not because there was any particular association between boys and blue, but because blue dyes were cheap. Blue sashes on Empire dresses were de rigueur at the beginning of the 19th century. Theodore Roosevelt's daughter Alice, born in 1884, famously wore a light grey-blue colour that became hugely popular, and was known as "Alice Blue."
Stories abound that pink was considered a masculine colour until the beginning of the 20th century. Whether or not this is true, both blue and pink were worn by boys historically. Less famous than Gainsborough's "Blue Boy" painting is its companion "Pink Boy."
Some point out that the Nazis use of the pink triangle to identify homosexuals indicates a link between pink and femininity by the 1930s.
We can surmise, then, that the stark delineation between blue for boys and pink for girls did emerge sometime in the early 20th century, for reasons historians seem unable to produce, and today is considered to be carved in stone. Oh, sure, girls can wear blue, if the clothing is girly enough, or the girl has long enough/styled enough hair, and men who follow the right sort of high fashion magazines can wear pink silk ties and shirts, but heaven forbid that your four-year-old son have his heart set on Dora the Explorer running shoes:
Or hot pink soup bowls. We bought the latter, but just couldn't bring ourselves to go for the former. We might as well draw a target on his back, at that point.
History is Made
Let it be known that on Saturday, June 2nd, 2007, at the age of 2 years, 2 weeks, and 2 days, Alec James Gunson slept through the night. Then he did it again on June 4th.
There is hope.
There is hope.
Damage Control
Unfortunately, I am one of those parents who is guilty of occasionally swearing in front of her children. I don't mean to, of course, but sometimes it just slips out. Unsurprisingly, Joffre has recently said "dammit!" a couple of times. We had a big discussion about how dammit was a bad word, how Mommy shouldn't say it either, etc.
The next day, Joffre and Alec were playing roughly with something, and I told them to play gently so it wouldn't get damaged. Right away Joffre said, "Mom! You said dammit!!" So, I went into a huge explanation about what damage means, how it's not the same word as dammit, and how dammit is a bad word but damage isn't.
Two days later, Joffre got frustrated and yelled "dammit!" I said, "Joffre! We don't say that word! Remember, it's a bad word!"
"No, Mom," he replied. "I just said damage."
The next day, Joffre and Alec were playing roughly with something, and I told them to play gently so it wouldn't get damaged. Right away Joffre said, "Mom! You said dammit!!" So, I went into a huge explanation about what damage means, how it's not the same word as dammit, and how dammit is a bad word but damage isn't.
Two days later, Joffre got frustrated and yelled "dammit!" I said, "Joffre! We don't say that word! Remember, it's a bad word!"
"No, Mom," he replied. "I just said damage."
Wonderful News!
I got a Law Foundation Scholarship for $6000. I am, of course, thrilled, especially considering that tuition is going to run me well over $9000 per year, not counting other university fees.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)