We have marked yet another rite of passage in the life of our young son William. A big one. A monumental one. One that no one should ever forget. That's right: we took him to see his first movie in the movie theater yesterday.
Don't you remember your first real movie? Mine was "Lady and the Tramp." David says that he saw either "Herbie the Love Bug" or "The Rescuers"; he saw both of them around the same time, so he's not completely sure which one came first for him, chronologically speaking. My brother's was "The Fox and the Hound."
William's first movie was "The Princess and the Frog." We took him to the Green Hills movie theater to see a noon matinee. He's been looking forward to it for months. Princesses? Movies? Popcorn? Time with Mommy and Daddy? How could it be anything other than perfect?
And William loved it. I figured that, since he eagerly watches "Sleeping Beauty" when we give in at home, he'd have no trouble sitting through another full-length cartoon. And he didn't. He didn't eat as much popcorn as I had originally predicted, but he seemed to enjoy the overall experience. He behaved nicely, he laughed at the funny characters, and he whispered when he wanted to ask a question.
On the way out of the theater, however, he refused to put his coat back on. Flat out refused. Finally, in exasperation, David said something like, "William! Put your coat on now! It's cold out there! Do you want to get sick?"
And I would almost swear that William, worldly wise young man that he is now, rolled his eyes. "Daddy, you don't get a cold that way. You have to get germs to get sick," he informed us.
Um, yeah, that's right, actually. Why are we ever surprised when he actually remembers things that we've told him?
I asked William later for his review of the movie. He said that the funny alligator was his favorite character. (Louis, for those of you who've seen it.) And he's ready to go see another movie again soon. Hopefully something else rated "G" will be released before too long...
Friday, December 18, 2009
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Hello?
Serial posting because this is too good to not blog about...
This morning, I walked out of my bedroom to find William in the office (i.e. the computer room, which will soon be converted into Baby Brother's room, ousting me and my work to a location still to be determined). He told me that he'd been talking to Grandaddy Johnny on the computer, but there wasn't a picture. I asked him when, because we regularly chat with Grandaddy Johnny on the computer via Skype, and I figured, he was just talking about one of our past conversations.
Ah, well, as it turns out, he had JUST been talking to Grandaddy Johnny on the computer. As in, a few minutes earlier. While I was still in my room, he had come into the computer room, turned on the computer, somehow brought up the Skype program, called his grandfather and had a nice little chat. But because he likes to hang up the phone a lot, he had to call back a lot. And apparently he knows how to do all of that. Who knew he'd picked up so much from watching me do it? So the Skype log showed at least a half-dozen short phone calls that the two of them had had this morning.
Good grief. William can't even read yet, and he's already figured out how to do all this stuff? We are in big trouble--Big Trouble--when he does learn how to read.
For the record, Daddy said he was happy to talk with his grandson, but I needed to make sure to teach him how to turn the video system on so that he could see him on the computer screen. Apparently, William just punched the "Call" button, not the "Video Call" button, which was why there was no picture.
This morning, I walked out of my bedroom to find William in the office (i.e. the computer room, which will soon be converted into Baby Brother's room, ousting me and my work to a location still to be determined). He told me that he'd been talking to Grandaddy Johnny on the computer, but there wasn't a picture. I asked him when, because we regularly chat with Grandaddy Johnny on the computer via Skype, and I figured, he was just talking about one of our past conversations.
Ah, well, as it turns out, he had JUST been talking to Grandaddy Johnny on the computer. As in, a few minutes earlier. While I was still in my room, he had come into the computer room, turned on the computer, somehow brought up the Skype program, called his grandfather and had a nice little chat. But because he likes to hang up the phone a lot, he had to call back a lot. And apparently he knows how to do all of that. Who knew he'd picked up so much from watching me do it? So the Skype log showed at least a half-dozen short phone calls that the two of them had had this morning.
Good grief. William can't even read yet, and he's already figured out how to do all this stuff? We are in big trouble--Big Trouble--when he does learn how to read.
For the record, Daddy said he was happy to talk with his grandson, but I needed to make sure to teach him how to turn the video system on so that he could see him on the computer screen. Apparently, William just punched the "Call" button, not the "Video Call" button, which was why there was no picture.
No place for guilt at the holidays
So over on my other blog Jennifer Larson, Writer at Large, I recently mentioned that I was feeling a little guilty about not taking William to do tons of Christmas stuff this year.
Being nearly 28 weeks pregnant, I'm just huge and tired, and my energy level is just not what it normally is. And unfortunately, lots of the best Christmas activities require Serious Energy. I just couldn't do the downtown Christmas parade on Friday night, no way, and I managed to miss out on getting tickets to see a local production of a mini version of "The Nutcracker," but there's no way we'd last through a full-length performance.
So I decided to do some more low-key fun things and hope that they will suffice, at least for this year. As several people have told me, William is three. He doesn't know any different. There are plenty of years ahead to do bigger things around the holidays.
And we do still have two big fun things planned, so it's not like I bailed altogether this year. I'm taking him to a local church's Walk Through Bethlehem event on Sunday afternoon, and my mother-in-law is taking him to have breakfast with Santa at Davis-Kidd Booksellers on the 19th. I figure, I'll take him to have his photo taken with Santa at the mall one day after school, and we'll be good. Right?
In the meantime, a few photos from our low-key day on Saturday. I took him to Cheekwood so he could do the kiddie art class, which involved making a candy collage, and then we looked at the Christmas decorations....
Then we came home and decorated a gingerbread house from a kit that I bought at Target. I could have taken him to any of about three different gingerbread house workshops around town that day, but they all cost at least $40, and frankly, I was hesitant to spend that kind of money on that sort of activity for a kid his age. Surprisingly, the kit occupied him for about two hours at home. Well worth the money.
And we're doing the typical things, like taking him to church each Sunday, lighting the candles on our Advent wreath and doing the Lego Advent calendar each night (I'm sure you can guess whose idea that was, right?).
And we already plan to attend the children's Christmas Eve service, which he adored last year. So really, we're doing the most important things, I think. I just wish that I DID have the energy to do more. But I'm going to try to feel content with what we're doing and remember that he's enjoying everything that we are doing, and that it's not worth completely wearing myself down.
Being nearly 28 weeks pregnant, I'm just huge and tired, and my energy level is just not what it normally is. And unfortunately, lots of the best Christmas activities require Serious Energy. I just couldn't do the downtown Christmas parade on Friday night, no way, and I managed to miss out on getting tickets to see a local production of a mini version of "The Nutcracker," but there's no way we'd last through a full-length performance.
So I decided to do some more low-key fun things and hope that they will suffice, at least for this year. As several people have told me, William is three. He doesn't know any different. There are plenty of years ahead to do bigger things around the holidays.
And we do still have two big fun things planned, so it's not like I bailed altogether this year. I'm taking him to a local church's Walk Through Bethlehem event on Sunday afternoon, and my mother-in-law is taking him to have breakfast with Santa at Davis-Kidd Booksellers on the 19th. I figure, I'll take him to have his photo taken with Santa at the mall one day after school, and we'll be good. Right?
In the meantime, a few photos from our low-key day on Saturday. I took him to Cheekwood so he could do the kiddie art class, which involved making a candy collage, and then we looked at the Christmas decorations....
Then we came home and decorated a gingerbread house from a kit that I bought at Target. I could have taken him to any of about three different gingerbread house workshops around town that day, but they all cost at least $40, and frankly, I was hesitant to spend that kind of money on that sort of activity for a kid his age. Surprisingly, the kit occupied him for about two hours at home. Well worth the money.
And we're doing the typical things, like taking him to church each Sunday, lighting the candles on our Advent wreath and doing the Lego Advent calendar each night (I'm sure you can guess whose idea that was, right?).
And we already plan to attend the children's Christmas Eve service, which he adored last year. So really, we're doing the most important things, I think. I just wish that I DID have the energy to do more. But I'm going to try to feel content with what we're doing and remember that he's enjoying everything that we are doing, and that it's not worth completely wearing myself down.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Notes on Thanksgiving
Well, another Thanksgiving has come and gone, and suddenly we're in the middle of Advent again. We had a nice Thanksgiving weekend, although David was under the weather, which took a little bit of the shine off it.
My parents came to visit, and at the last minute, my brother even managed to get off work, so he drove up to Nashville for 24 hours, which was a wonderful surprise. So we had the whole clan: Mom, Daddy, John, Diane, Aaron, Mark, David, William and me. When William noticed that we were having to pull up extra chairs to the table, I told him that it was a very nice problem to have. And he agreed.
Because I was pregnant and because I ended up making dressing* for the very first time ever, I didn't end up taking many photos. So I apologize for the less-than-ideal photographic record of what was actually a pretty nice holiday. It's still better than William's first Thanksgiving, when I, er, didn't take any pictures at all.
Mom and Daddy decided that a little Thanksgiving-morning run around the yard might help by wearing William out a little:
In fine Wyckoff/Larson fashion, William put away two big pieces of JellO salad. He had his piece...and the piece that everyone tried to convince me eat. (Y'all. I haven't eaten JellO voluntarily in more than 20 years. It's time to stop trying. Seriously, it leaves more for you to eat! Why object?)
So anyway, it was really nice to get our family all together for a holiday. We never get to have both sides of the family together on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so I appreciate the chances that we do have to spend a holiday together. We even watched "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" before dessert.
A couple of days after Thanksgiving, William said how much he enjoyed the holiday, too. That made me very happy because for awhile, he kept saying that he was looking forward to Thanskgiving because it meant that Christmas was right afterward. But he said he was glad to have all his grandparents and uncles visit him, and he asked if everyone was coming back for Christmas. I told him that no, Mama Judi and Grandaddy Johnny would probably wouldn't be able to both be here for Christmas--but that we'd invite them to come if they could. And I reassured him that no matter what, we'd have his DeeDee and Grandaddy and Uncle Mark come over for Christmas, and that was something to look forward to.
He brightened and said "Can we have DeeDee over again sometime really soon?"
I said, "Sure." And then I said, "And what about Grandaddy Aaron?"
William thought about that for a second. "Well, I guess he can come, too."
***********************
I am seriously tempted to use this as a Christmas card photo because it just makes me laugh and laugh and laugh. No one needs to see me in all my swollen, pregnant glory on a Christmas card this year anyway!
* Okay, yes, Diane chopped all the celery and onions for it, which is the hard part. But I, er, mixed it all together! And put it in the oven! And took it out of the oven! Surely that counts for something, right?
My parents came to visit, and at the last minute, my brother even managed to get off work, so he drove up to Nashville for 24 hours, which was a wonderful surprise. So we had the whole clan: Mom, Daddy, John, Diane, Aaron, Mark, David, William and me. When William noticed that we were having to pull up extra chairs to the table, I told him that it was a very nice problem to have. And he agreed.
Because I was pregnant and because I ended up making dressing* for the very first time ever, I didn't end up taking many photos. So I apologize for the less-than-ideal photographic record of what was actually a pretty nice holiday. It's still better than William's first Thanksgiving, when I, er, didn't take any pictures at all.
Mom and Daddy decided that a little Thanksgiving-morning run around the yard might help by wearing William out a little:
In fine Wyckoff/Larson fashion, William put away two big pieces of JellO salad. He had his piece...and the piece that everyone tried to convince me eat. (Y'all. I haven't eaten JellO voluntarily in more than 20 years. It's time to stop trying. Seriously, it leaves more for you to eat! Why object?)
So anyway, it was really nice to get our family all together for a holiday. We never get to have both sides of the family together on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so I appreciate the chances that we do have to spend a holiday together. We even watched "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" before dessert.
A couple of days after Thanksgiving, William said how much he enjoyed the holiday, too. That made me very happy because for awhile, he kept saying that he was looking forward to Thanskgiving because it meant that Christmas was right afterward. But he said he was glad to have all his grandparents and uncles visit him, and he asked if everyone was coming back for Christmas. I told him that no, Mama Judi and Grandaddy Johnny would probably wouldn't be able to both be here for Christmas--but that we'd invite them to come if they could. And I reassured him that no matter what, we'd have his DeeDee and Grandaddy and Uncle Mark come over for Christmas, and that was something to look forward to.
He brightened and said "Can we have DeeDee over again sometime really soon?"
I said, "Sure." And then I said, "And what about Grandaddy Aaron?"
William thought about that for a second. "Well, I guess he can come, too."
***********************
I am seriously tempted to use this as a Christmas card photo because it just makes me laugh and laugh and laugh. No one needs to see me in all my swollen, pregnant glory on a Christmas card this year anyway!
* Okay, yes, Diane chopped all the celery and onions for it, which is the hard part. But I, er, mixed it all together! And put it in the oven! And took it out of the oven! Surely that counts for something, right?
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Scholastic book time
You know what one of my favorite things about preschool is? My son is finally old enough that his teachres stuff those Scholastic book flyers in his schoolbag every month.
Remember those? How can you not? When I was a kid, I lived for those book order forms. Granted, I was a big old nerd...er, bookworm...so I loved books anyway. The chance to order brand new books and receive them all at once at school was absolutely irresistible to me. My mother usually only allowed me to select three, maybe four, books, but that just made the whole selection process that much more intense. I pored over the pages, flipping them back and forth, marking my choices with my No. 2 pencil, before finally winnowing it down to an acceptable number. Then Mom carefully filled out the information portion of the form and wrote a check for the total.
Graciously, and despite the fact that we didn't have a lot of disposable income in those years, Mom always let me order enough books to qualify for the free poster that you received for ordering a predetermined number of items. The poster was always something nauseatingly cheesey, like a picture of a tangle of kittens in a basket full of yarn, or else it was a little odd, like the picture of a single white duck in the middle of a lush green lawn. But still! You had to get the poster! It was like the prize in the Happy Meal.
And then I looked eagerly forward to the day when the Scholastic book orders came in. At the end of the school day, the teacher handed out the stacks of books, always bound together with rubber bands. When she put my order on my desk, I couldn't wait to flip through my new treasures.
Of course, today we have Amazon.com, Borders,Barnes and Noble and all that. We have super bookstores that stock just about everything, something that we didn't have when I was growing up and had to rely on teeny-tiny Waldenbooks or B-Dalton's limited selections. And these days, I can order just about any book ever published online, get free super-saver shipping, and have a box delivered to my door in about two or three days. You'd think that Scholastic book ordering would have lost some of its appeal for me. Weirdly, no. It hasn't. William has received order forms for three months in a row now, and each time, I've spread them out over the kitchen table and eagerly combed through the forms and made checkmarks next to the items with the most potential. Should we get "Thump, Quack, Moo"? or "Pinkalicious"? What about the series of beginning reader books about the solar system? Decisions, decisions!
This past month, I just ordered a set of Christmas books that all tell some version of the Nativity story. Lord knows (er, no pun intended) that we have a boatload of Christmas books already, but I'm always on the lookout for another one that manages to combine good artwork and good storytelling. So far, we've read three of the four books that arrived last week. William seems to be enjoying them. He certainly likes new books in general. But I don't know if he's really caught on yet to how exciting it is to get new books at school. Maybe he won't. Maybe he's already too accustomed to buying books at Davis-Kidd and receiving them through the mail. That makes me a little sad to contemplate, actually. But as long as he grows up loving books, it really doesn't matter where the books came from.
Remember those? How can you not? When I was a kid, I lived for those book order forms. Granted, I was a big old nerd...er, bookworm...so I loved books anyway. The chance to order brand new books and receive them all at once at school was absolutely irresistible to me. My mother usually only allowed me to select three, maybe four, books, but that just made the whole selection process that much more intense. I pored over the pages, flipping them back and forth, marking my choices with my No. 2 pencil, before finally winnowing it down to an acceptable number. Then Mom carefully filled out the information portion of the form and wrote a check for the total.
Graciously, and despite the fact that we didn't have a lot of disposable income in those years, Mom always let me order enough books to qualify for the free poster that you received for ordering a predetermined number of items. The poster was always something nauseatingly cheesey, like a picture of a tangle of kittens in a basket full of yarn, or else it was a little odd, like the picture of a single white duck in the middle of a lush green lawn. But still! You had to get the poster! It was like the prize in the Happy Meal.
And then I looked eagerly forward to the day when the Scholastic book orders came in. At the end of the school day, the teacher handed out the stacks of books, always bound together with rubber bands. When she put my order on my desk, I couldn't wait to flip through my new treasures.
Of course, today we have Amazon.com, Borders,Barnes and Noble and all that. We have super bookstores that stock just about everything, something that we didn't have when I was growing up and had to rely on teeny-tiny Waldenbooks or B-Dalton's limited selections. And these days, I can order just about any book ever published online, get free super-saver shipping, and have a box delivered to my door in about two or three days. You'd think that Scholastic book ordering would have lost some of its appeal for me. Weirdly, no. It hasn't. William has received order forms for three months in a row now, and each time, I've spread them out over the kitchen table and eagerly combed through the forms and made checkmarks next to the items with the most potential. Should we get "Thump, Quack, Moo"? or "Pinkalicious"? What about the series of beginning reader books about the solar system? Decisions, decisions!
This past month, I just ordered a set of Christmas books that all tell some version of the Nativity story. Lord knows (er, no pun intended) that we have a boatload of Christmas books already, but I'm always on the lookout for another one that manages to combine good artwork and good storytelling. So far, we've read three of the four books that arrived last week. William seems to be enjoying them. He certainly likes new books in general. But I don't know if he's really caught on yet to how exciting it is to get new books at school. Maybe he won't. Maybe he's already too accustomed to buying books at Davis-Kidd and receiving them through the mail. That makes me a little sad to contemplate, actually. But as long as he grows up loving books, it really doesn't matter where the books came from.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Round-Up of William's Wit
Time for a quick round-up of funny things William has said recently!
Let's see....what can I pull out of the recesses of my brain for you to chuckle at?
1. Upon seeing me race to the bathroom and throw myself headfirst in front of the toilet one morning, William felt compelled to cheer me on.
"Ready! Set! THROW UP!!!" he yelled enthusiastically.
2. The other morning, William was pretending to be various characters from Disney movies or from his castle. He kept doggedly trying to get me to interact with him, even though I was scurrying around, making his lunch, eating breakfast, trying to find his shoes and all the other stuff that I do in the morning. "Mommy," he kept saying. "Mommy!"
Finally, I said, "What, William?"
And he said, "No, you have to say, 'What, Evil Wizard?'"
3. Part of this is more of a sweet moment than a funny moment, but I want to record it for posterity anyway. The rest, well....it is pretty funny.
William enjoys putting his head up to my stomach and talking to his baby brother. "Hello, baby!" he likes to say. "How's it doing in there?"
So after loosening the baby up with some small talk, he looked up at me and said, "Can he feel my love in there?"
Yes, let's say it all together now: awwwwwww.
But just in case you thought it was all sweetness, he then wanted to know, "How can the baby go peepee and poopy in there when there's not a potty inside your belly?"
4. Tonight, William earned a piece of his Halloween candy because he finished all his dinner, including his broccoli. (Granted, broccoli is his favorite vegetable, but still.) So I fetched the pumpkin from its safe place on top of the fridge and I handed it to him. He carried it off to root through the dwindling amount of candy and pick out the best piece. A little while later, he brought it back to me and said, "Here, Mommy. You need to put this up because I might want to eat even more."
Hey, he's honest!
______________________________
By the way, I wanted to let you know that I keep getting all these weird spam comments in Japanese on one of my earlier blog posts, and let's just say that they are most decidedly NOT family-friendly. I'm going to re-enable the function on the comment section that asks you to type in a word or series of letters and numbers before you post your comment. Please don't let this deter you from making comments. I've noticed a major drop-off in comments, probably more because I've not been posting as often recently (due to that whole bone-dead pregnancy thing I've got going on). But if you have something to say, just rest assured that the verification feature was put there on purpose. You can contact me if you have trouble using it though, and I'll see what I can do. I just don't want to keep getting those spam messages.
Let's see....what can I pull out of the recesses of my brain for you to chuckle at?
1. Upon seeing me race to the bathroom and throw myself headfirst in front of the toilet one morning, William felt compelled to cheer me on.
"Ready! Set! THROW UP!!!" he yelled enthusiastically.
2. The other morning, William was pretending to be various characters from Disney movies or from his castle. He kept doggedly trying to get me to interact with him, even though I was scurrying around, making his lunch, eating breakfast, trying to find his shoes and all the other stuff that I do in the morning. "Mommy," he kept saying. "Mommy!"
Finally, I said, "What, William?"
And he said, "No, you have to say, 'What, Evil Wizard?'"
3. Part of this is more of a sweet moment than a funny moment, but I want to record it for posterity anyway. The rest, well....it is pretty funny.
William enjoys putting his head up to my stomach and talking to his baby brother. "Hello, baby!" he likes to say. "How's it doing in there?"
So after loosening the baby up with some small talk, he looked up at me and said, "Can he feel my love in there?"
Yes, let's say it all together now: awwwwwww.
But just in case you thought it was all sweetness, he then wanted to know, "How can the baby go peepee and poopy in there when there's not a potty inside your belly?"
4. Tonight, William earned a piece of his Halloween candy because he finished all his dinner, including his broccoli. (Granted, broccoli is his favorite vegetable, but still.) So I fetched the pumpkin from its safe place on top of the fridge and I handed it to him. He carried it off to root through the dwindling amount of candy and pick out the best piece. A little while later, he brought it back to me and said, "Here, Mommy. You need to put this up because I might want to eat even more."
Hey, he's honest!
______________________________
By the way, I wanted to let you know that I keep getting all these weird spam comments in Japanese on one of my earlier blog posts, and let's just say that they are most decidedly NOT family-friendly. I'm going to re-enable the function on the comment section that asks you to type in a word or series of letters and numbers before you post your comment. Please don't let this deter you from making comments. I've noticed a major drop-off in comments, probably more because I've not been posting as often recently (due to that whole bone-dead pregnancy thing I've got going on). But if you have something to say, just rest assured that the verification feature was put there on purpose. You can contact me if you have trouble using it though, and I'll see what I can do. I just don't want to keep getting those spam messages.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Hand, hand, finger, thumb
So, want to hear the latest drama at our house?
Last week, I accidentally slammed William's hand in the minivan door. Poor little guy. Look at him:
But seriously, it was not one of the finer moments of my life as a parent. I was taking him to get a haircut, and right as I started to shut the door, he turned around and stuck his hand right there. Argh. Normally, William's not really a big cryer. When he gets hurt or upset, he really does not cry for very long. This, however, was not one of those times. I felt terrible, terrible!
We went down to Vanderbilt Children's Medical Center and got his hand x-rayed, and fortunately, nothing was broken. I knew he was probably going to be okay when he fell asleep in the van on the way to the hospital and then asked me to hold his injured hand as we negotiated the parking garage. He was a total angel in the waiting area, and David reported that he behaved beautifully for the x-ray technician, too. (They wouldn't let me go into the x-ray room since I've got Baby Brother on board.) William's hand was bruised, mostly across the knuckles and his ring and pinky finger, but otherwise, he was unharmed. What a huge, huge relief.
It did make me feel a little better when people started telling me that they've done something like this, too. Diane even 'fessed up to slamming one of her boys' hand in her car door back in the day; neither of them are quite sure if it was Mark or David, so I figured, it didn't scar them emotionally for life. And hopefully William will be just fine, too. He's already much more cautious around the minivan door, that's for certain.
I, on the other hand, will probably have nightmares about this for years. I still remember the horrible stomach-dropping feeling from the time I fell down the stairs with William in my arms. I may never fully recover from that. Mom can still recount all the hrarrowing scrapes that my brother got into as a small child, yet my brother remembers none of them. It's always the parent who has the memory seared into his or her brain.
Last week, I accidentally slammed William's hand in the minivan door. Poor little guy. Look at him:
But seriously, it was not one of the finer moments of my life as a parent. I was taking him to get a haircut, and right as I started to shut the door, he turned around and stuck his hand right there. Argh. Normally, William's not really a big cryer. When he gets hurt or upset, he really does not cry for very long. This, however, was not one of those times. I felt terrible, terrible!
We went down to Vanderbilt Children's Medical Center and got his hand x-rayed, and fortunately, nothing was broken. I knew he was probably going to be okay when he fell asleep in the van on the way to the hospital and then asked me to hold his injured hand as we negotiated the parking garage. He was a total angel in the waiting area, and David reported that he behaved beautifully for the x-ray technician, too. (They wouldn't let me go into the x-ray room since I've got Baby Brother on board.) William's hand was bruised, mostly across the knuckles and his ring and pinky finger, but otherwise, he was unharmed. What a huge, huge relief.
It did make me feel a little better when people started telling me that they've done something like this, too. Diane even 'fessed up to slamming one of her boys' hand in her car door back in the day; neither of them are quite sure if it was Mark or David, so I figured, it didn't scar them emotionally for life. And hopefully William will be just fine, too. He's already much more cautious around the minivan door, that's for certain.
I, on the other hand, will probably have nightmares about this for years. I still remember the horrible stomach-dropping feeling from the time I fell down the stairs with William in my arms. I may never fully recover from that. Mom can still recount all the hrarrowing scrapes that my brother got into as a small child, yet my brother remembers none of them. It's always the parent who has the memory seared into his or her brain.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Happy Halloween!
Last year...or was it the year before last?...my friend Phuong sagely observed that very small kids don't really realize that it's candy that they are collecting when they go trick-or-treating. They just have fun collecting stuff, and then you can spirit most of it away.
Well, those days are over, over, over. See this picture of my beloved little boy?
In this picture, Sir William is literally dancing with impatience to go trick-or-treating. He could barely stand it when we kept telling him to wait just a few more minutes. Not when there was CANDY out there to get his hands on!
I love this picture (below), but it's a miracle that it exists. William was clawing to get outside, and we were all pleading with him to just pose for a photo, please please please please please.
But we did get a lovely family picture AFTER William had satisfied his trick-or-treat jones with a jaunt up and down our entire street and the adjacent street.
A special shout out to my lovely mother-in-law for gamely accompanying David and Sir William all around the neighborhood in the pursuit of life, liberty and candy. I stayed behind, with my big old belly, and handed out candy from a perch on the front porch. And er, I might have sneaked a few pieces of candy for myself at the same time, too.
Well, those days are over, over, over. See this picture of my beloved little boy?
In this picture, Sir William is literally dancing with impatience to go trick-or-treating. He could barely stand it when we kept telling him to wait just a few more minutes. Not when there was CANDY out there to get his hands on!
I love this picture (below), but it's a miracle that it exists. William was clawing to get outside, and we were all pleading with him to just pose for a photo, please please please please please.
But we did get a lovely family picture AFTER William had satisfied his trick-or-treat jones with a jaunt up and down our entire street and the adjacent street.
A special shout out to my lovely mother-in-law for gamely accompanying David and Sir William all around the neighborhood in the pursuit of life, liberty and candy. I stayed behind, with my big old belly, and handed out candy from a perch on the front porch. And er, I might have sneaked a few pieces of candy for myself at the same time, too.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Getting better, feeling glad
Ah, relief.
No, not for me. I'm getting more physically uncomfortable by the day. Nay, by the minute. Occasional flares of sciatica, the standard heartburn and acid reflux that punctuates pregnancy for me, sore hips from lying on my side in bed. You know. All the fun, glamorous stuff about being pregnant.
But the good news is that David is better. He had a second chest x-ray yesterday, and the radiologist said that his lungs look clear. No more pneumonia. No more pleural effusion (one was spotted on his first chest x-ray last Monday). The heavy regimen of antibiotics worked their magic.
That's right. That's relief you can sense emanating from this blog post.
I will say that it was a hard two weeks at our house. David was so sick, and we were all a little unprepared to cope with it. First H1N1, then pneumonia. I just hope this is the end of it for us. It should be: William and I went down to the health department last week and stood in line for one of the precious few H1N1 vaccine injections that were dispatched to Nashville. The injections were reserved for high-priority cases, but even then, there were not enough to go around. We were lucky. I'm hearing from a lot of friends and acquaintances that they weren't so fortunate. More vaccinations are due in this week, and I hope that everyone who needs one is able to get one.
I'm just feeling glad that it's today and not two weeks ago, when this roller coaster was just starting for us.
No, not for me. I'm getting more physically uncomfortable by the day. Nay, by the minute. Occasional flares of sciatica, the standard heartburn and acid reflux that punctuates pregnancy for me, sore hips from lying on my side in bed. You know. All the fun, glamorous stuff about being pregnant.
But the good news is that David is better. He had a second chest x-ray yesterday, and the radiologist said that his lungs look clear. No more pneumonia. No more pleural effusion (one was spotted on his first chest x-ray last Monday). The heavy regimen of antibiotics worked their magic.
That's right. That's relief you can sense emanating from this blog post.
I will say that it was a hard two weeks at our house. David was so sick, and we were all a little unprepared to cope with it. First H1N1, then pneumonia. I just hope this is the end of it for us. It should be: William and I went down to the health department last week and stood in line for one of the precious few H1N1 vaccine injections that were dispatched to Nashville. The injections were reserved for high-priority cases, but even then, there were not enough to go around. We were lucky. I'm hearing from a lot of friends and acquaintances that they weren't so fortunate. More vaccinations are due in this week, and I hope that everyone who needs one is able to get one.
I'm just feeling glad that it's today and not two weeks ago, when this roller coaster was just starting for us.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Even doctors get sick
I'm normally not this bad about updating this blog, but this week...oh, this week.
Let's just say that the week started inauspiciously with me sideswiping the side of the garage door with the minivan, and it ended with a bang, literally, with my son wacking the back of my arm with a toy and leaving a big red mark. In between, David got H1N1 flu and is still laid up, with fevers and a terrible cough, five days later. Poor David. It has not been pretty. Thanks to a combination of him losing weight due to illness and my gaining weight due to a little parasite growing in my belly...er, I mean pregnancy...I think I now outweigh him by at least ten or twelve pounds. He didn't even go with me to the OB on Thursday for my 20-week ultrasound, the big one where we got to find out what type of baby we're expecting. He moaned at one point that he felt so bad that he even forgot the name of the closer for the New York Yankees, which is a Big Deal because, as you all know, he's a lifelong, diehard Red Sox fan and he looooves to hate the Yankees.
So, later, I'll try to be all pithy or witty or something, but right now, I am just tired. So, so tired. I do want to say, however, before I retire for the evening, that I am grateful to my in-laws for taking William off my hands for a few hours today and for giving me some extra tissues and Gatorade for their ailing son. I am grateful to my father-in-law for taking William to school two days last week. I am grateful to my friend Jaclyn for bringing over some delicious homemade chocolate cookies to boost our spirits (and David's calorie intake). And I am thankful to my parents for coming up last weekend and taking us to supper at the Loveless Cafe.
Oh, yes, and the Baby to Be? Well, William's going to have a Baby Brother--perhaps the only good news to come out of the week. (That's called burying the lede, for you non-journalism types. Because I'm guessing that you've all been wondering.) I always wondered how I'd deal with a little girl who had big wild hair like mine, and now I guess I won't ever have to worry about it!
Let's just say that the week started inauspiciously with me sideswiping the side of the garage door with the minivan, and it ended with a bang, literally, with my son wacking the back of my arm with a toy and leaving a big red mark. In between, David got H1N1 flu and is still laid up, with fevers and a terrible cough, five days later. Poor David. It has not been pretty. Thanks to a combination of him losing weight due to illness and my gaining weight due to a little parasite growing in my belly...er, I mean pregnancy...I think I now outweigh him by at least ten or twelve pounds. He didn't even go with me to the OB on Thursday for my 20-week ultrasound, the big one where we got to find out what type of baby we're expecting. He moaned at one point that he felt so bad that he even forgot the name of the closer for the New York Yankees, which is a Big Deal because, as you all know, he's a lifelong, diehard Red Sox fan and he looooves to hate the Yankees.
So, later, I'll try to be all pithy or witty or something, but right now, I am just tired. So, so tired. I do want to say, however, before I retire for the evening, that I am grateful to my in-laws for taking William off my hands for a few hours today and for giving me some extra tissues and Gatorade for their ailing son. I am grateful to my father-in-law for taking William to school two days last week. I am grateful to my friend Jaclyn for bringing over some delicious homemade chocolate cookies to boost our spirits (and David's calorie intake). And I am thankful to my parents for coming up last weekend and taking us to supper at the Loveless Cafe.
Oh, yes, and the Baby to Be? Well, William's going to have a Baby Brother--perhaps the only good news to come out of the week. (That's called burying the lede, for you non-journalism types. Because I'm guessing that you've all been wondering.) I always wondered how I'd deal with a little girl who had big wild hair like mine, and now I guess I won't ever have to worry about it!
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Dear William...
Dear William,
I am really sorry that I was too tired and pregnant to go downstairs and get ice cubes for your water cup at bedtime tonight. I hope that you will not need too many years of therapy to get over the heartbreak. Sleep tight!
Love,
Mommy
I am really sorry that I was too tired and pregnant to go downstairs and get ice cubes for your water cup at bedtime tonight. I hope that you will not need too many years of therapy to get over the heartbreak. Sleep tight!
Love,
Mommy
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Yes. No. YES. NO. Yes...
Why are small children so inconsistent? Or is it just my child? My child, you see, will answer a question in the affirmative and then, not, fifteen seconds later, answer the exact same question in the negative. Or vice versa. You could get whiplash if you were paying close attention and expecting him to stick with his original (or second, or third) answer.
Here's just the most recent example.
Me, about three hours ago: "William, do you want macaroni and cheese with the rest of your lunch?"
William: "NO! NO! I just want grilled cheese samwich, and that's all. No macaroni and cheese, and that's it!"
Later, when I'm about to start eating mac'n'cheese, I hear, "Mommy, is the macaroni and cheese ready? I want some. Is it ready? Is it ready? Is it ready?"
Then, from William, as he frantically inhaled two portions of mac'n'cheese: "Mommy, macaroni and cheese is my FAVORITE."
Inconsistent? Mercurial? Or does a small boy just like to exercise the right to change his mind?
Here's just the most recent example.
Me, about three hours ago: "William, do you want macaroni and cheese with the rest of your lunch?"
William: "NO! NO! I just want grilled cheese samwich, and that's all. No macaroni and cheese, and that's it!"
Later, when I'm about to start eating mac'n'cheese, I hear, "Mommy, is the macaroni and cheese ready? I want some. Is it ready? Is it ready? Is it ready?"
Then, from William, as he frantically inhaled two portions of mac'n'cheese: "Mommy, macaroni and cheese is my FAVORITE."
Inconsistent? Mercurial? Or does a small boy just like to exercise the right to change his mind?
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
William the Big Brother
We recently bit the bullet and told William that he's going to be a big brother. Whew. What a relief to check that off the "to do" list.
It went surprisingly well, too. David told him that a little baby is growing in Mommy's tummy, and in a few more months, we'll have a new baby who will be born and who will belong to our family. And William will get to be the Big Brother. He clapped and said, "Yay!" and proceeded to ask dozens of questions. (Seriously, could he ask any more questions? At one point, he noted that there is no door on Mommy's tummy, and will a doctor have to do surgery on it?) He is pretty convinced it's going to be a Baby Brother, but he will tell you that it could still be a Baby Sister. We'll find out for sure on October 15, so stay tuned on that front.
The thing that has been really wonderful about this has been William's complete embrace of the whole idea. He's made a list of things that he's going to help the baby do (learn to clap, learn to stomp, etc.). He's taken to asking me, in a very serious voice, "What else should we do to get ready for the baby?" And then he will begin ticking off a list of things that we need to buy or procure, the things that he believes we will need. And perhaps most surprisingly, he's been pretty accurate. All on his own, he's determined that the new baby will need a crib, diapers, pajamas, binkies, toys, bottles, and (eventually) baby food. At one point, he ran to the bathroom and dug out some of his own old binkies and volunteered to give them to the baby. (Why do we still have those things, is really the question there.) I told him that it might be better if I took him to the store and let him pick out some new ones, and he readily agreed.
Even better, William has already, completely on his own accord, offered his crib and his old baby gear, like his bouncy seat and swing, for his new baby sibling to use. I acted like it had never occurred to me that we'd use that stuff again and wow, wasn't William so smart and generous to let the new baby have them? He beamed like he'd been given a major award. He's very proud of the fact that he's a big boy now and doesn't need that stuff--and that he can share it with his new baby brother (or sister). I had worried that he might be possessive of those things, since they did belong to him first, but he's been very excited about the prospect of passing them down. I realize that there may still be some reluctance that could crop up when it actually comes time for a new small person to use his old stuff, but at least for now, he's totally on board with it. Since he believes it all to be his Grand Idea, he's very happy to be so magnanimous.
Obviously we're planning on using as many hand-me-downs as possible, but there are some things that really do need to be brand new. A couple of nights ago, I noted that we'd probably need to get the new baby a lovey of some sort, like William's Natty. William immediately volunteered to give his other Natty (we call him Backup Natty, and he lives in the bureau drawer for emergencies) to the new baby. "I already have a Natty," he told me. For some reason, that really touched me. Natty is one of the few things that is fundamentally (and always will be) William's. I bought it for him when he was just a couple of months old, and Natty has gone everywhere with us. The backup has gone to school and on trips, too, just in case something happens to the original. William's not willing to give up his lovey but he is willing to give up the next best thing, which he also really likes, and I think that's kind of cool, coming from a three-year-old. Also, he seems to really care that his new sibling will need a Natty, and who better to meet that need than the Big Brother?
I know, I know, there will definitely be some adjustment in William's future when the new baby is born and comes home to live in William's house forever. But I'm just glad that for now, he's really excited about the whole prospect and isn't worried or anxious. I hope we can encourage that attitude as much as possible.
It went surprisingly well, too. David told him that a little baby is growing in Mommy's tummy, and in a few more months, we'll have a new baby who will be born and who will belong to our family. And William will get to be the Big Brother. He clapped and said, "Yay!" and proceeded to ask dozens of questions. (Seriously, could he ask any more questions? At one point, he noted that there is no door on Mommy's tummy, and will a doctor have to do surgery on it?) He is pretty convinced it's going to be a Baby Brother, but he will tell you that it could still be a Baby Sister. We'll find out for sure on October 15, so stay tuned on that front.
The thing that has been really wonderful about this has been William's complete embrace of the whole idea. He's made a list of things that he's going to help the baby do (learn to clap, learn to stomp, etc.). He's taken to asking me, in a very serious voice, "What else should we do to get ready for the baby?" And then he will begin ticking off a list of things that we need to buy or procure, the things that he believes we will need. And perhaps most surprisingly, he's been pretty accurate. All on his own, he's determined that the new baby will need a crib, diapers, pajamas, binkies, toys, bottles, and (eventually) baby food. At one point, he ran to the bathroom and dug out some of his own old binkies and volunteered to give them to the baby. (Why do we still have those things, is really the question there.) I told him that it might be better if I took him to the store and let him pick out some new ones, and he readily agreed.
Even better, William has already, completely on his own accord, offered his crib and his old baby gear, like his bouncy seat and swing, for his new baby sibling to use. I acted like it had never occurred to me that we'd use that stuff again and wow, wasn't William so smart and generous to let the new baby have them? He beamed like he'd been given a major award. He's very proud of the fact that he's a big boy now and doesn't need that stuff--and that he can share it with his new baby brother (or sister). I had worried that he might be possessive of those things, since they did belong to him first, but he's been very excited about the prospect of passing them down. I realize that there may still be some reluctance that could crop up when it actually comes time for a new small person to use his old stuff, but at least for now, he's totally on board with it. Since he believes it all to be his Grand Idea, he's very happy to be so magnanimous.
Obviously we're planning on using as many hand-me-downs as possible, but there are some things that really do need to be brand new. A couple of nights ago, I noted that we'd probably need to get the new baby a lovey of some sort, like William's Natty. William immediately volunteered to give his other Natty (we call him Backup Natty, and he lives in the bureau drawer for emergencies) to the new baby. "I already have a Natty," he told me. For some reason, that really touched me. Natty is one of the few things that is fundamentally (and always will be) William's. I bought it for him when he was just a couple of months old, and Natty has gone everywhere with us. The backup has gone to school and on trips, too, just in case something happens to the original. William's not willing to give up his lovey but he is willing to give up the next best thing, which he also really likes, and I think that's kind of cool, coming from a three-year-old. Also, he seems to really care that his new sibling will need a Natty, and who better to meet that need than the Big Brother?
I know, I know, there will definitely be some adjustment in William's future when the new baby is born and comes home to live in William's house forever. But I'm just glad that for now, he's really excited about the whole prospect and isn't worried or anxious. I hope we can encourage that attitude as much as possible.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Well, maybe they did talk
I've been meaning to post this little anecdote because it cracked me and David up so much.
So William and I had a rather vehement disagreement in the car on the way home from church the other day. He insisted that dinosaurs could talk. He knows that there are no dinosaurs living today, but he kept insisting that when they did live, they could talk.
I said, "No, I'm pretty sure that only humans can talk." (Too early to get into philosophical arguments about what makes us human, what separates us from the animals, etc.)
William loudly objected. He said, "No! I saw talking dinosaurs on TV. They talked! They talked!"
I said, "Well, they were just pretend dinosaurs. You know they're not real because the dinosaurs are extinct. Those were just made-up dinosaurs you saw on TV."
(I know. I'm a real buzz kill. The next thing you know, I'm going to be telling him the truth about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.)
But William stubbornly insisted, "They did too talk! The paweontowogist [that's William for 'paleontologist'] on TV said they did!"
You think he watches too much TV?
Also, how do I argue with a paleontologist? When I was a kid and learning about dinosaurs, we didn't even know that they were related to birds. People practically thought the earth was still flat.
So William and I had a rather vehement disagreement in the car on the way home from church the other day. He insisted that dinosaurs could talk. He knows that there are no dinosaurs living today, but he kept insisting that when they did live, they could talk.
I said, "No, I'm pretty sure that only humans can talk." (Too early to get into philosophical arguments about what makes us human, what separates us from the animals, etc.)
William loudly objected. He said, "No! I saw talking dinosaurs on TV. They talked! They talked!"
I said, "Well, they were just pretend dinosaurs. You know they're not real because the dinosaurs are extinct. Those were just made-up dinosaurs you saw on TV."
(I know. I'm a real buzz kill. The next thing you know, I'm going to be telling him the truth about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.)
But William stubbornly insisted, "They did too talk! The paweontowogist [that's William for 'paleontologist'] on TV said they did!"
You think he watches too much TV?
Also, how do I argue with a paleontologist? When I was a kid and learning about dinosaurs, we didn't even know that they were related to birds. People practically thought the earth was still flat.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Jim Wehweh
Tonight, I was finishing up a phone interview and checking some things on the computer, when William wandered into the office.
"Mommy, do you know Jimawella?" he asked in a very serious tone.
I stared at him blankly. "Jimawella? Jim wella? Gymboree?" I guessed.
"No, Mommy, Jim Wehweh!" he insisted. "Jim Wehweh!"
Finally, I realized what he was asking me about so urgently. He doesn't say "r" or "l" particularly well in some words, so it took me a few seconds. Apparently, he had finished watching his kiddie shows on PBS when the news came on. He was interested in it enough to watch the first few minutes, but he wasn't familiar with this new character that he was seeing.
You know, Jim Wehweh. It was the Jim Lehrer show. Jim Lehrer may not have the panache of a Sid the Science Kid or the get-up-and-go of the Super Readers, but he's been around an awful long time and has outlasted a whole bunch of other characters. Plus, he has that nice soothing Southern accent. (Yeah, I like him, too.)
"Mommy, do you know Jimawella?" he asked in a very serious tone.
I stared at him blankly. "Jimawella? Jim wella? Gymboree?" I guessed.
"No, Mommy, Jim Wehweh!" he insisted. "Jim Wehweh!"
Finally, I realized what he was asking me about so urgently. He doesn't say "r" or "l" particularly well in some words, so it took me a few seconds. Apparently, he had finished watching his kiddie shows on PBS when the news came on. He was interested in it enough to watch the first few minutes, but he wasn't familiar with this new character that he was seeing.
You know, Jim Wehweh. It was the Jim Lehrer show. Jim Lehrer may not have the panache of a Sid the Science Kid or the get-up-and-go of the Super Readers, but he's been around an awful long time and has outlasted a whole bunch of other characters. Plus, he has that nice soothing Southern accent. (Yeah, I like him, too.)
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Pukefest 2009
Oh boy, today's turned out to be a Pukefest.
And no, it wasn't me puking, for a change.
William barfed all over the hallway this afternoon. Thank God for the Oxyclean spray stuff that gets stains out of carpet, even watermelon and strawberry yogurt. I prayed that it was just a weird, random chance thing. But 15 minutes or so later, I found out that it wasn't. Oh well.
Right now, he's resting in his bed. The floor next to his bed is covered in towels, and he has a towel draped over him. There's an emesis basin next to the bed, too. It was in heavy use this afternoon while he puked his way through a few episodes of "Sid the Science Kid" and "SuperWhy!" Mostly it was just the water and ginger ale I had coaxed him to sip.
Luckily for both of us, I am fairly immune to the grossness of puking. I do it regularly myself, after all. And I've been a parent long enough to have gotten used to dealing with it from my offspring. I know there are people who'd disagree but I'd rather deal with some puke than an explosion from the, er, other end.
David's due home any minute with supplies from Publix. Hopefully we can coax some Pedialyte into William.
Today's blog post was brought to you by the letters E and W. And W. And another W.
And no, it wasn't me puking, for a change.
William barfed all over the hallway this afternoon. Thank God for the Oxyclean spray stuff that gets stains out of carpet, even watermelon and strawberry yogurt. I prayed that it was just a weird, random chance thing. But 15 minutes or so later, I found out that it wasn't. Oh well.
Right now, he's resting in his bed. The floor next to his bed is covered in towels, and he has a towel draped over him. There's an emesis basin next to the bed, too. It was in heavy use this afternoon while he puked his way through a few episodes of "Sid the Science Kid" and "SuperWhy!" Mostly it was just the water and ginger ale I had coaxed him to sip.
Luckily for both of us, I am fairly immune to the grossness of puking. I do it regularly myself, after all. And I've been a parent long enough to have gotten used to dealing with it from my offspring. I know there are people who'd disagree but I'd rather deal with some puke than an explosion from the, er, other end.
David's due home any minute with supplies from Publix. Hopefully we can coax some Pedialyte into William.
Today's blog post was brought to you by the letters E and W. And W. And another W.
Friday, September 04, 2009
Today was William's first day of preschool!
Sniff. He's growing up so fast. Next thing I know, he'll be asking to borrow the car keys.
But seriously, I don't know which one of us was more excited. Or ready.
"Let's get in the car, Mommy."
It was so weird getting William ready for school this morning. I was so accustomed to making sure I packed a backpack full of all his stuff, plus his enormous puffy nap mat, and lugging it all with me. This year, he has a tote bag that he carries all by himself. An empty tote bag. And that's it. No extra outfit (or two); the teachers keep an extra set of clothes at school. No blankey. No extra Natty. No diapers. "No PullUps!" William cheered. Just a tote bag, waiting to be filled with art projects, newsletters from the school, and notes from the teachers.
I dropped him off in his brand new classroom at 9 a.m. The school was a zoo. They won't start using the carpool line for drop-offs and pick-ups for another week, so everyone was straggling into the building. We had to stop and say hello to people along the way, too. We arrived in the classroom, hung up his totebag, and he scampered off to play with the trucks on the floor with several other boys--and he didn't look back.
And that was it. It was sort of anticlimactic, actually. I did try to snap a few pictures (that didn't turn out very well) but decided to go ahead and leave when I saw him get upset over something (a disagreement over a truck, I believe). Um, yeah, your teachers have reassured me that they know exactly how to handle this sort of thing, been doing it for years. See ya, kid.
Because it was the first day--I feel that I should capitalize those words and make them into First Day--they asked the parents of the three-year-olds to arrive at 11:45 a.m. for pick-up. Another change from the past: the three-year-olds have music class as their last activity of the morning, so the parents pick them up in the music room, not their classroom. Last year, we picked the kids up from their classroom, where, more often than not, half of them were still quietly and adorably snoozing inside their enormous puffy nap mats. Occasionally, William was one of those kids, but sometimes, he would be running around the room like a champion sprinter.
The door opened, and teachers been escorting children out into the hall and depositing them in the arms of their moms. (Yes, it was all moms. However, I do have to give a shoutout to the husbands of two of my friends, who have kids in William's class. They came to school this morning for drop-off.) William was about the fifth or sixth child to emerge. His teacher pointed him in my direction and said to me, "He had a good day! He played with the trucks and in the sand." William beamed a huge William smile. Then he threw his arms around me and nearly pulled me over in the hallway. As we walked to the car, he told me that he ate graham crackers for snack and that they sang songs in music class. Not a bad report from a three-year-old.
So I guess it went pretty well!
Sniff. He's growing up so fast. Next thing I know, he'll be asking to borrow the car keys.
But seriously, I don't know which one of us was more excited. Or ready.
"Let's get in the car, Mommy."
It was so weird getting William ready for school this morning. I was so accustomed to making sure I packed a backpack full of all his stuff, plus his enormous puffy nap mat, and lugging it all with me. This year, he has a tote bag that he carries all by himself. An empty tote bag. And that's it. No extra outfit (or two); the teachers keep an extra set of clothes at school. No blankey. No extra Natty. No diapers. "No PullUps!" William cheered. Just a tote bag, waiting to be filled with art projects, newsletters from the school, and notes from the teachers.
I dropped him off in his brand new classroom at 9 a.m. The school was a zoo. They won't start using the carpool line for drop-offs and pick-ups for another week, so everyone was straggling into the building. We had to stop and say hello to people along the way, too. We arrived in the classroom, hung up his totebag, and he scampered off to play with the trucks on the floor with several other boys--and he didn't look back.
And that was it. It was sort of anticlimactic, actually. I did try to snap a few pictures (that didn't turn out very well) but decided to go ahead and leave when I saw him get upset over something (a disagreement over a truck, I believe). Um, yeah, your teachers have reassured me that they know exactly how to handle this sort of thing, been doing it for years. See ya, kid.
Because it was the first day--I feel that I should capitalize those words and make them into First Day--they asked the parents of the three-year-olds to arrive at 11:45 a.m. for pick-up. Another change from the past: the three-year-olds have music class as their last activity of the morning, so the parents pick them up in the music room, not their classroom. Last year, we picked the kids up from their classroom, where, more often than not, half of them were still quietly and adorably snoozing inside their enormous puffy nap mats. Occasionally, William was one of those kids, but sometimes, he would be running around the room like a champion sprinter.
The door opened, and teachers been escorting children out into the hall and depositing them in the arms of their moms. (Yes, it was all moms. However, I do have to give a shoutout to the husbands of two of my friends, who have kids in William's class. They came to school this morning for drop-off.) William was about the fifth or sixth child to emerge. His teacher pointed him in my direction and said to me, "He had a good day! He played with the trucks and in the sand." William beamed a huge William smile. Then he threw his arms around me and nearly pulled me over in the hallway. As we walked to the car, he told me that he ate graham crackers for snack and that they sang songs in music class. Not a bad report from a three-year-old.
So I guess it went pretty well!
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Three plus one equals four
Isn't it hard to believe that this little guy...
...eventually became this not-so-little guy?
(for the record, those are David's shoes. He's not that big yet.)
And since David and I have had three years now to develop amnesia about what it's like to have a tiny little needy baby in the house all the time, we thought, "Hey! Why not do it again?"
That's right. The Three Peas in a Pod are going to become Four Peas in a Pod pretty soon. Well, not that soon. Not soon enough for this pregnant lady, at any rate. William's going to be a big brother, sometime around the beginning of March.
This, folks, is what you might call the ultimate leap of faith. It will probably feel more imminent, of course, once I get over the All Day and All Night Ugliness that characterizes pregnancy for me. Right now, I'm excited in theory....but sick in practice. But we're definitely glad.
Um, and can I ask you all for a big favor? Can you reassure me that I'm not, in fact, crazy to have another one? I mean, I remember the last one (sort of), and I know there are going to be sleepless nights and all that. But can you tell me the benefits outweigh them? Thx.
...eventually became this not-so-little guy?
(for the record, those are David's shoes. He's not that big yet.)
And since David and I have had three years now to develop amnesia about what it's like to have a tiny little needy baby in the house all the time, we thought, "Hey! Why not do it again?"
That's right. The Three Peas in a Pod are going to become Four Peas in a Pod pretty soon. Well, not that soon. Not soon enough for this pregnant lady, at any rate. William's going to be a big brother, sometime around the beginning of March.
This, folks, is what you might call the ultimate leap of faith. It will probably feel more imminent, of course, once I get over the All Day and All Night Ugliness that characterizes pregnancy for me. Right now, I'm excited in theory....but sick in practice. But we're definitely glad.
Um, and can I ask you all for a big favor? Can you reassure me that I'm not, in fact, crazy to have another one? I mean, I remember the last one (sort of), and I know there are going to be sleepless nights and all that. But can you tell me the benefits outweigh them? Thx.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Look, Ma! No cavities!
I am pleased to announce that William's very first visit to the dentist went very well. Not only did he willingly let the hygienist clean his teeth, but he didn't have any cavities. What a relief.
When the assistant called his name, I stood up, prepared to accompany him to the exam room. But she said, "Oh, you can stay there. He'll be fine." And he went willingly, didn't even look back or blink an eye.
Then they called me back to meet with the dentist. At first I was a little nervous. But then a woman came in and handed me a big orange balloon and a small bag. "William's too busy playing right now, so he wanted you to hold this," she told me with a smile. Apparently, the dentist has a small game room with video games the kids can play while their parents meet with the dentist to discuss their care. I figured, if he's playing, he can't be too traumatized, right? So far, so good.
Then the dentist came in and reassured me that everything went just fine. William apparently didn't want to lean all the way back in the reclining chair, but other than that, he didn't object to anything. Of course, he did tell the dentist that the hygienist "already cleaned my teeth!" when he came in to examine William's teeth.
For his good behavior (although I suspect they probably give the same stuff to the rotten kids, too), William received the aforementioned orange balloon and a bag filled with a new toothbrush, toothpaste, flosser, sticker and small toy. Not bad. I told him that my old dentist used to have a treasure chest, and he allowed kids who behaved during their dental appointments to pick a tiny toy out of the treasure chest. William was fascinated by that. I told him that he actually got better stuff than I did; the treasure chest was cool, but the prizes weren't all that special. (Think Crackerjack box toys.)
I am so relieved that it's over. I really wasn't worried too much about William behaving for the dentist. He always behaves pretty well at the doctor's office...unless they have to swab the back of his throat, and geez, I hate having that done to me, too. I was just fretting that there'd be something Terribly Wrong (and Terribly Expensive) with his teeth, and luckily, there wasn't.
No cavities. Woot!
When the assistant called his name, I stood up, prepared to accompany him to the exam room. But she said, "Oh, you can stay there. He'll be fine." And he went willingly, didn't even look back or blink an eye.
Then they called me back to meet with the dentist. At first I was a little nervous. But then a woman came in and handed me a big orange balloon and a small bag. "William's too busy playing right now, so he wanted you to hold this," she told me with a smile. Apparently, the dentist has a small game room with video games the kids can play while their parents meet with the dentist to discuss their care. I figured, if he's playing, he can't be too traumatized, right? So far, so good.
Then the dentist came in and reassured me that everything went just fine. William apparently didn't want to lean all the way back in the reclining chair, but other than that, he didn't object to anything. Of course, he did tell the dentist that the hygienist "already cleaned my teeth!" when he came in to examine William's teeth.
For his good behavior (although I suspect they probably give the same stuff to the rotten kids, too), William received the aforementioned orange balloon and a bag filled with a new toothbrush, toothpaste, flosser, sticker and small toy. Not bad. I told him that my old dentist used to have a treasure chest, and he allowed kids who behaved during their dental appointments to pick a tiny toy out of the treasure chest. William was fascinated by that. I told him that he actually got better stuff than I did; the treasure chest was cool, but the prizes weren't all that special. (Think Crackerjack box toys.)
I am so relieved that it's over. I really wasn't worried too much about William behaving for the dentist. He always behaves pretty well at the doctor's office...unless they have to swab the back of his throat, and geez, I hate having that done to me, too. I was just fretting that there'd be something Terribly Wrong (and Terribly Expensive) with his teeth, and luckily, there wasn't.
No cavities. Woot!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Ick ick ick
Every once in awhile, I think, "I wish I was a better parent."
I think it's a pretty natural feeling. None of us is perfect. We all do things from time to time that we regret---or we wish we could rewind time and do that over again and improve our performance second time around. For example, I wish I hadn't yelled at William this morning for spilling his milk; I'm pretty sure he did it on purpose, but hello, it was just spilled milk, and we all know what they say about spilled milk.
But you know, I felt much better about myself this past week after catching an episode of this horrifying television show that airs on TLC. It's called "Toddlers and Tiaras." The title alone should give you a pretty clear idea of what the show's about. Seeing it reminds me of driving past a wreck on the highway; it's awful, but you can't help but slow down and gawk.
I'm not going to link to it because I don't want to be responsible for any more viewers. Just suffice it to say it's a show about parents who put their toddlers and kindergarteners in full-on makeup and sequined gowns and ask them to shimmy their hips in a dead-on imitation of a stripper in front of a tacky hotel ballroom full of other people wearing t-shirts with their children's names emblazoned on them.
And it's not just makeup and hairspray. Some little girls even wear these weird retainer-like devices called "flippers" that make their teeth appear to be perfect and blindingly white and straight in a way that a six-year-old's teeth never, ever naturally look. (I'm sort of twitching, just remembering it.) Think dentures.
I have no problem with a teenager who wants to enter a Junior Miss pageant; ostensibly a teenager is old enough to make her own decisions. But a preschooler? Ick. And NO. Lots of the little tykes interviewed on the show talk, in lisping voices, about how they want to win, how they want to be the best, and all I can think is, "That's your mom talking. She's trying to live through you, and you're barely out of diapers." These kids aren't old enough to understand what this is all about. They're trying to make Mommy happy. Or they just like dressing up. But from what I saw on the show, it doesn't just start and stop with one or two pageants. It becomes an all-encompassing lifestyle. And an expensive one, to boot.
And most egregiously, it sexualizes young children. I'm sure that many so-called pageant moms would disagree with me, but you watch those little girls strut their stuff and tell me what you see. It's Jon-Benet Ramsay-esque. That may not be the intention, but that's definitely the effect. I hear moms bemoan the "hoochie mama" clothes that are marketed toward tweens; eight-year-olds in belly-baring t-shirts and low-rise jeans are bad enough. But a four-year-old winking and shaking her hips and getting a score for it? Oh my. Can we please put a smocked bishop dress on her and give her a Madeline book to read instead? If she really needs a crown--and from what I can tell, that's a big deal for the little girls--they sell some perfectly nice little tiaras in toy stores these days.
Granted, I have a little boy, so it's easy for me to say, "I'd never do that to my child." But you know what? I'd never do that to my child. And I'll try to stop yelling at him when he spills milk, too.
I think it's a pretty natural feeling. None of us is perfect. We all do things from time to time that we regret---or we wish we could rewind time and do that over again and improve our performance second time around. For example, I wish I hadn't yelled at William this morning for spilling his milk; I'm pretty sure he did it on purpose, but hello, it was just spilled milk, and we all know what they say about spilled milk.
But you know, I felt much better about myself this past week after catching an episode of this horrifying television show that airs on TLC. It's called "Toddlers and Tiaras." The title alone should give you a pretty clear idea of what the show's about. Seeing it reminds me of driving past a wreck on the highway; it's awful, but you can't help but slow down and gawk.
I'm not going to link to it because I don't want to be responsible for any more viewers. Just suffice it to say it's a show about parents who put their toddlers and kindergarteners in full-on makeup and sequined gowns and ask them to shimmy their hips in a dead-on imitation of a stripper in front of a tacky hotel ballroom full of other people wearing t-shirts with their children's names emblazoned on them.
And it's not just makeup and hairspray. Some little girls even wear these weird retainer-like devices called "flippers" that make their teeth appear to be perfect and blindingly white and straight in a way that a six-year-old's teeth never, ever naturally look. (I'm sort of twitching, just remembering it.) Think dentures.
I have no problem with a teenager who wants to enter a Junior Miss pageant; ostensibly a teenager is old enough to make her own decisions. But a preschooler? Ick. And NO. Lots of the little tykes interviewed on the show talk, in lisping voices, about how they want to win, how they want to be the best, and all I can think is, "That's your mom talking. She's trying to live through you, and you're barely out of diapers." These kids aren't old enough to understand what this is all about. They're trying to make Mommy happy. Or they just like dressing up. But from what I saw on the show, it doesn't just start and stop with one or two pageants. It becomes an all-encompassing lifestyle. And an expensive one, to boot.
And most egregiously, it sexualizes young children. I'm sure that many so-called pageant moms would disagree with me, but you watch those little girls strut their stuff and tell me what you see. It's Jon-Benet Ramsay-esque. That may not be the intention, but that's definitely the effect. I hear moms bemoan the "hoochie mama" clothes that are marketed toward tweens; eight-year-olds in belly-baring t-shirts and low-rise jeans are bad enough. But a four-year-old winking and shaking her hips and getting a score for it? Oh my. Can we please put a smocked bishop dress on her and give her a Madeline book to read instead? If she really needs a crown--and from what I can tell, that's a big deal for the little girls--they sell some perfectly nice little tiaras in toy stores these days.
Granted, I have a little boy, so it's easy for me to say, "I'd never do that to my child." But you know what? I'd never do that to my child. And I'll try to stop yelling at him when he spills milk, too.
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