So did you know that when a kid gets sick, then doesn’t eat for three days, but drinks a lot of milk, and takes a lot of ibuprofen.. . . .well then sometimes his stomach gets upset and he vomits. . . . it looks just like logs of fresh mozzarella balls. I should have taken photos. Damn.
time +/or energy June 14, 2008
If only I had more time, and yes more energy, I would have so many more entries here. By the end of each day I am exhausted. Perhaps the downside of being a 41 year old new mother?
So what would I like to write about:
- Developmental updates for both k/f.
- K’s school updates.
- K all-of-a-sudden doing everything by himself.
- F being charming and delightful to all she surveys.
- Many the-things-they-say updates
- The daycare illnesses: A chronicle
- K’s budding fashion sense.
- K + F playing together are so funny.
- My severe lack of attention and other impending disasters.
For now, let me choose a couple to briefly update. . . . .
I have been trying to clear out old clothes, new clothes, clothes coming and clothes going. There are piles everywhere in every room. It could, yes it could, drive someone crazy. So I try. I finally cleared out some baby stuff of K’s and put it in the OUT pile. I came home last week to K wearing a cute little pair of capri-type pants. Then I thought to myself, he does not *own* any cute little capri-type pants. When he took them off that night I looked and yes, they were size 6month baby pants. My 3.5 year old can fit into 6month baby pants. He put on another pair yesterday but they couldn’t button, thankfully.
In related news he has quite recently (last week) taken to dressing himself 100%. And then undressing himself and re-dressing himself a couple of times a day. I’m not sure if this is fashion or just a simple pride in having mastered a new skill. Either way, I get a big kick out of it. I think the most we’ve seen is perhaps 3 or 4 new outfits in a day. He gets mad when T or I see him doing the changing. . . he wants it to be a surprise so he says, DON’T LOOK AT ME. And we can’t look until he’s done.
He’s quite newly self-sufficient in other ways too. I suppose this could be developmental or it could be his pre-school experience. But in the evening, he will go to the bathroom, wash his hands, brush his teeth . . . all by himself. We’re all quite pleased with this new independent behavior. I must mention though that last night the new independent behavior did prompt one phone call to poison control. You see, I’ve been letting k use adult toothpaste, you know with fluoride (which I guess is technically a poison). Last night in his flurry of independence he didn’t want me in the bathroom to watch his whole routine. I agreed. He was awfully quiet in there for quite some time; I should have been suspicious. He came out clean and smelling, no, reeking of toothpaste. Did you eat the toothpaste? Yes. How much? I don’t know. I looked at the tube and it was pretty squished down. Soooooooo, I called poison control because that’s what it says to do on the back of the toothpaste tube and if nothing else, I do follow directions. The man said how much did he eat? I said I don’t know. He said a teaspoon or half a tube? I said more like a teaspoon, but I don’t know. He said give him some milk; it will bind with the fluoride. He said based on his weight, he would have to eat 2ounces for detriment to occur. He said watch him and call back if he throws up in the next hour. So k drank the milk, went to bed, he never threw up, he lives today.
And one more thing, this final incident of the day was but one of many. K also decided to play hi-ho-cherry-o on the floor in the living room. Of course he didn’t pick UP all the cherry-os. I found them throughout the afternoon, scattered around F’s blanket and toys. Perhaps a choking hazard? Then later I was making dinner. K was playing and F in her saucer. I glanced over and thought, How nice that they are both content. Then I glanced over again and thought, What is F doing playing with a circus peanut. Well it was actually playdoh the color of a circus peanut. And yes I think she ate some. So I talk to k about all of these things. . . . . don’t leave the cherries around, be careful of small choke-able items, you can’t give playdoh to a baby. But at the end of the day *I* need to be more careful. Have I mentioned lately? This is hard work.
overheard May 19, 2008
“Clap clap clap dad, we’re going to go to the library to get some books about people that died.”
The first day of school (or how *could* you?) May 13, 2008
Let me tell you a little, true story. . . .
Yesterday was the first day of daycare/school for k/f. Because K is kind of sensitive, we had been to visit twice and had talked about the experience quite a bit. He woke up grumpy and got grumpier. He whined, wanted to be held and carried, wasn’t “comfort-ble” anywhere we put him. He didn’t want to eat breakfast, he wanted to lie on the couch.
At a certain point, I had to go to work – - and did. And the rest of the story, as relayed by T. . . .
He got them to the school. F was dropped off (happily, no tears). K was dropped off (not so happily, many tears). As T left, K was being held by a teacher, sobbing and looking over his shoulder at T, betrayed. Or rather, BETRAYED.
T got a call mid-day that K had stopped crying and indeed seemed to enjoy himself at Arts and Crafts time.
I got there to pick them up at about 5pm, thinking that I would be in the throes of the other parent-pickups. I certainly didn’t imagine being the second-to-last parent to pickup. But I was. I walked in the door and spotted him right away. He had on a fleece shirt with juice dripped down the front, his second pair of extra pants, his red boots. He was peaking out from behind an easel at the back of the room. The look in his eyes was forlorn, a little despairing, and reeked somewhat of abandonment. Even when I went over to him, he didn’t lose the look, in fact it just turned into blame, with betrayal close behind.
He wanted to get F right away, so off we went. He wanted to be carried, which I did for a bit. He slowly started to warm up to me and began to talk as we left the building. By the time we got to the car he was almost himself, ie not listening to me anymore.
And so it goes.
Yipes.
I find myself wishing that he could be different than me, ie not quite so introverted and sensitive. I had thought that he might be more like T. . . .extroverted and confident in the face of anything. I wonder from where do these things come? Nature or nurture? Could K be changed, or even encouraged to be a certain way?
Upon further reflection (and some probing questions from a colleague/friend), what am I saying by, “I wish he could be more like. . . .(insert anything here).” And what if he picks up on that? Does he feel like the way he is isn’t good enough. I am who I am today bc I was/am an introverted sensitive person. For certain, I don’t like it some days, but would I change it if I could go back to my childhood? I don’t know the answers here but I am surely thinking about what I want for my child. How do I accept him as he is, guide him toward something better, and yet love him and help him feel confident whatever the case may be.
You know. . . the fine line of balance, eluding me again.
my particular May 5, 2008
K said last week that he had been practicing saying “girl” instead of “girlluh” because “girlluh” wasn’t right. Sometimes these little things just break my heart. Or at least bend it a little.
He is very particular about how he says things. Lately I have also noticed him practicing the “th” sound. He enunciates it very carefully.
Why does it break/bend my heart? I think because I extrapolate. He likes to do things right. He always has. He didn’t walk until the later end of the scale, I think because he wanted to do it right– he didn’t want to try and fall (fail). Now he will be going to this new preschool. It’s going to be a big huge adjustment for him. Firstly, he is sensitive and shy. Secondly, because he likes so much to do things right. And, as with any new thing, he might falter a little in this new setting – - or perceive that he’s faltering. Then he gets that look, you know, the look in your child’s eye that says, “I’m scared. I don’t know what to do and I’m scared.”
That look breaks my heart.
in earnest. April 14, 2008
k says,
i love baby to the moon and back.
i love mom to carter’s house and back.
i love dad to bob’s house and back.
N.B. carter lives about 3 miles from us.
bob lives next door.
