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This week, following Peter H. Reynold's speech at the NESCBWI conference, I went on a wee binge. I scooped up nearly all of his books from my school library and brought them home where I demanded my 9 year old read them. Then I read them aloud to the 6 year old.
Wonderful.
The crop I brought home did *not* include The Dot or Ish, for which he is justifiably well known. These are my three current favorites:
The North Star, written and illustrated by Peter H. Reynolds.
This book is about following your own path. This sound pretty simple as a theme, but I love how Reynolds includes distractors: the people who, with all good intentions, let you know you need to catch up, you're falling behind. I love that when our hero helps another character, his own path becomes more clear. I love the frog who tells him that he likes living in a bog. He's a frog. It makes him happy. I found this one pretty inspirational, and quite frankly, helpful. I'm not sure if it is a hard core repeat reader, but I like it very much.
I'm Here, written and illustrated by Peter H. Reynolds.
I began reading this with one of my older preschoolers. He wasn't in a good place, and I quickly determined he wasn't interested in reading it right then. But I wanted to get back to it right away because I suspected something that turned out to be true: it was a book that was about a child like him. A child who is left out and doesn't know how to make friends. A child on the spectrum, overwhelmed by sound and crowds, but still wanting to belong, to be accepted.
This squeezed my heart. I'm trying to write a novel for emerging readers that gives a similar approach to describing a child on the spectrum, so perhaps I'm biased, but I love this book.
Someday, written by Alison McGhee and illustrated by Peter H. Reynolds.
Someday is a list of wishes a mother has for her new child, following her through her life, until she is a young mother, and an old woman, reflecting back the love she has for her own child and her own mother.
When Peter Reynolds spoke about this book on Saturday, he had to pause, choked by emotion.
I understand completely. Someday was given to me when my daughter was born, and Monday night was the first time I managed to read it aloud without my voice breaking into a sob.
This one I fiercely love.
My daughter's birthday is next week. She will reap a crop of Peter's books: The Dot, Ish, and Sky Color, along with water color pencils, and sketch pads.
I can't wait.
0 Comments on This week's favorite author and illustrator: Peter H. Reynolds as of 5/7/2014 10:02:00 PM
My husband and I used to happily comment that we loved other people's dogs.
We don't need one ourselves. So much work. They're like another kid.
Now that I have a dog, I realize, I was absolutely right. Except for the bit about needing a dog.
Little Sebago.
She's a great little dog. She learns fast, is quiet and mellow, great with the kids, and falls asleep about 8pm every night.
A month after we brought her home, she broke her knee. Running around the house as if it were a NASCAR track. A month to heal while we kept her "quiet".
That was a little problematic.
A few months later, we enjoyed an early spring. J and the kids took the dog to a park to run around. She found something to slash open her front leg with. Initially the vet thought it wasn't that bad a cut, but it went all the way down to the bone.
Being an incredibly persistent dog (perhaps that's why I empathize with her?) she figured out how to use her Cone of Shame to gouge and scratch at her wound.
We called this the Elizabethan Embarrassment. It worked briefly. Then she figured out how to get her muzzle under it to pull off her bandage. Much to our great relief, once she was able to lick the wound, she left it alone more and eventually it healed.
On the first really hot day of the spring, I took her to play with a dog friend. They found some water and Sebago emerged with her front leg bleeding. Again. This time we were thrifty and bound it up ourselves.
She pulled the bandage right off. We replaced it. She removed it. I mentioned she was persistent, right? It managed to heal without a vet visit.
About a month later, J asked me if Sebago was limping. I watched her at the dog park. Yes. On the leg she'd broken. Then on the other leg. I got cross eyed watching.
The vet agreed. Both legs. An x-ray the next week confirmed that the pins and wire put in to hold her knee together had shifted as she grew into her full size. It evidently cut off circulation to a small bone in her knee and it disappeared. Yes, disappeared.
The other back knee has its own problem, which the vet explained along the lines of bones failing to fuse, which it should have done at her age. At least that's what I think he said. He
0 Comments on Why My Dog Needs Single Payer Health Insurance as of 1/1/1900
After dinner, I manage to persuade both kids to go for a walk with me. I precede our walk with the lecture on, "Remember how you whined about how far it was last time? If you don't want to go, that's fine. But I don't want whining."
Bizarrely it worked. Noodle didn't complain about the distance even once.
About half way through our walk, there is a lovely little waterfall with a bridge. It's been dry lately, so the waterfall is just hypothetical, but the kids like to teeter on the guardrail like the illustrations from Madeline's Rescue from my childhood. (Right before Madeline plunges into the Siene and is saved by a pregnant golden retriever.)
This is the same idyllic scene where I asked Q to kindly walk more quickly so Noodle wouldn't fall, evoking his hubris, causing him to run, in flip flops, and naturally slip and scrape the inside of his thigh in a manner which brought to mind road rash. Not even chocolate could comfort him. Although for reasons beyond me, Q doesn't like chocolate and the melty pieces from my back pocket that I'd saved as a treat for the kids was apparently less than motivating, much less a treat. It tasted just fine. I don't know what his problem is.
So this is where I am walking, yet again, with my children.
I try to not watch to carefully because it just invites disaster. I'm afraid of heights and nothing makes a kid wobble like someone saying, "Be careful!" They might fall the 18 inches to the ground and require carrying the half mile home up hill.
I glance back at Noodle. There is a large ant walking on the rail toward her.
I suspect that large ant has a mother on the ground covering her eyes and muttering something about 'Don't come crying to me when you fall 18 inches to the ground,' which in the ant world must be 18 stories.
Noodle has no perspective. She sees the ant scampering toward her pink sandal and screams, "Mom!"
I watch her wobble and try to decide if telling her just to stamp on the darn thing is heartless or practical.
Noodle decides this is the perfect time to panic. She lets out a scream so loud and shrill the neighbors are going to flood their yards expecting to see a coyote attacking a small child. I scoop her off the guard rail and deposit her on the ground. She examines her sandal suspiciously, then walks down the side walk unphased by her near death experience.
I look around to explain the situation to the neighbors, but not a single person is on their lawn.
And that is what is wrong with America. Coyotes can attack small children, ants are dying, and no one even pulls up a lawn chair to watch.
Also we saw a small bunny.
3 Comments on Tranquility and Coyotes, last added: 6/25/2012
Dad - I agree on the concept of illustrations/maps, but if I wait for the right accessories for every blog post, I don't blog. I decided I should try to blog every day for as long as I possibly can because I desperately need the writing practice.
So far I am being embarrassingly influenced by reading The Bloggess's book. (See thebloggess.com for general writing style.) But it takes a lot of the fear out of posting. t.
I am more than delighted. We have finally separated the two children into their own bedrooms, complete with fresh paint jobs and an enthusiastic attempt to organize their toys. I think they are both sleeping better and arguing less.
Q's new room
Noodle's new room
Unfortunately, we did not build a room onto the house, so we had to mash our bedroom down the stairs, through the living room and into the former den. To make room for our bed, we shoved the futon couch (ie: Luxury Guest Bed) into the living room, and piled bins of items we can't bear to throw away but don't know if we really like around the bedroom so it will feel cozy.
We have kind of a hoarding issue. Some of the problem stems from being scavengers. And when I say, we, I mean "I". I don't like leaving anything I can get for free that looks remotely useful. I also hate throwing anything away that might be useful in the future. This results in saving some really crappy stuff. Jonathan is an advocate of ditching crappy stuff, but our problem is that we disagree on which items are crappy and we need a UN certified mediator.
This whole rearrangement is about as interesting as listening to someone you've never met gush about their grandchildren, but it's key for understanding the following conversation which I had yesterday morning.
I bought an Ikea Poang chair for Father's Day. We couldn't afford the matching footstool, so we borrowed the footstool from the fake fancy name swivel easy chair that Jonathan loved until it collapsed on him. That chair moved to the workshop until we can drag it to the dump.
"I'm going to take some things to the Essex Recycling Shed." I say this quietly. If the kids hear me, they will first beg to come so they can salvage other people's crap to come rot in my house. Then they will realize I am trying to ditch beloved toys and immediately play with every ignored toy in the house.
My beloved understands these facts without reviewing them. Further validating my unspoken concern, Noodle enters the room.
"What are you planning to bring?" He matches my tone and I watch Noodle out of the corner of my eye.
"The C-A-S-T-L-E and the D-O-R-A H-O-U-S-E."
There is a long pause as Jonathan makes his way through my spelling. I do a mental spell check. I can't really spell out loud which it makes it much harder to communicate by spelling.
He nods. "Got it."
"Would you like me to take anything else?"
He raises his eyebrows. "Do you have something in mind?"
"One of the things cluttering up your workshop?" I am trying to be nice. Honestly.
"Like....?" His tone implies I should be careful.
"Maybe the chair?"
"But I'm using the footstool that goes with that chair."
We look at the footstool that nearly, but not quite, matches the Poang chair.
"Okay. I'm not suggesting we get rid of the footstool. Just the chair."
"But they go together."
I bury my eyes in my hands so I won't roll my eyes. Rolling your eyes is really bad for your marriage.
"If you bring the chair to the recycling shed, no one will know that it had a footstool. They'll just say 'Cool! A chair!'"
Jonathan, plaintively, "But the chair is so much more comfortable with the footstool."
I stifle a sigh. I'm very patient. "Okay. We take them to the shed together and you can use the tapestry footstool."
He shakes
2 Comments on Furniture Migration, last added: 6/23/2012
You see here the aftermath of Christmas. Within a week, the sturdiest stuffed dog toy we could find Sebby had been methodically dismembered (all parts still squeaky!). A month later I disposed of the last eviscerated chunks of poor beloved Skunk. It kept her fairly busy and was a lot of fun, but an empty milk jug plus a few small dog treats inside (Q's invention) is an equal amount of bang for the buck. (Those don't even last a full day, I admit.)
Our post-student teaching routine is starting to fall into place. Here you see Noodle baking with me. She follows Q's pattern of loving the measuring, the stirring and the licking of spoons, and the complete evacuation once the mixer is turned on. I am so delighted to have Wednesdays to spend relaxed time with her again. She has picked up some excellent manipulation lingo and now directly tells me, in a voice full of pathos, "I need some attention."
Much of my own new routine involves wearing out the dog. Three days a week (when possible and I don't oversleep), I take Sebby to the unofficial dogpark in Essex. Sebby tears around with her new dog pals, and consistently loves each and every dog she meets, even if they tell her rudely that her desire to groom their teeth is going to get her face ripped off. The dogpark wears this dog out better than my new four day routine of walking and running a 2.5 loop in Chester with her before work.
Last week Q asked to join me on my Wednesday morning dogpark routine. We bargained for full school preparedness before leaving home, and it worked out beautifully. I've really missed our Wednesday morning breakfasts together, so I'm hoping we might combine the dogpark time and our Wednesday morning tradition to carve out our special time together each week.
One of the most surprising aspects of the dogpark, is Q's response to the hordes of running dogs. Not only has his mild (and unconfirmed) allergy to dog spit disappeared, Q has entirely turned around his fear of dogs. Since my job is to keep an eye on Sebby, I often turn around to find Q chatting up other dog owners and giving what one of them described as, "a running commentary" on the dog behaviors and interactions.
All things change, but as I drove to work the other day, I recognized that this is what happy feels like.
At Q's regular check up in early December, it was determined that Q did indeed have an adult tooth coming in. (Finally!) Unfortunately, it had found a spot behind the other teeth and was wedging up out of alignment with the other teeth. While the baby tooth was wiggly, the dentist wanted to pull it (assuming it didn't fall out in the meantime) so that the adult tooth had room to move into its appropriate spot as it was growing in.
Sitting in the dentist's office yesterday, Q asked me, "Is the Tooth Fairy real?"
"Absolutely."
He didn't quite believe me, so he wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy.
He taped it to the back of the baggie with the baby tooth. I think he was planning to hide it where only the Tooth Fairy could find it, but luckily, he forgot and left it on the table.
Note the stamp.
This morning he found her response in an envelope, along with a snowflake, and a dollar bill...
After showing Noodle, I heard him in the hallway: "This is awesome!"
2 Comments on Milestones: Tooth Fairy, last added: 12/14/2011
When I was a child, I felt sorry for the children in store bought costumes. They were plastic and unpersuasive. As an adult, I empathize with the parents significantly more. On the bright side, costumes for children are dramatically better made.
This year Q announced he wanted to be a ninja. Watching the student parade in Essex, I realized that 75% of all the boys wanted to be ninjas this year. Some classes had only ninjas. Nothing like having a hazardous concept (ie: black) integral to a costume.
Noodle had long claimed she wanted to be Ariel. Luckily that's an easy choice, if skimpy. Why do they make any costume without winterizing? Do they think little girls are trick or treating in preheated neighborhoods?
On facebook I posted that two nights in a row we put Q to bed in his jammies, only to discover him asleep in his ninja costume. In the morning he comes down in his jammies again. I caught him in a photo...
I wonder if he has midnight ninja adventures in his dreams.
So the World's Best Dog had her first hard lesson this week. If you run in the house, someone will get hurt. Maybe you. The dog was in a full puppy frenzy - playing, growling, chasing, chewing, and running, sort of a pre-bedtime burst of energy. She tore into the kitchen as if she'd seen a squirrel, and - we think - hit a cabinet and knocked her kneecap out of place.
Post surgery she's doing well. We're supposed to keep her "calm" for a MONTH to help her heal. She doesn't get it.
Luckily she's so good natured that when I hold her collar and prevent her from chasing the neighbor's dog, she simply sits and watches them longingly. I'm worried that puppy training class will be problematic, but I hope training her will give us good strategies for entertaining her without straining her leg...?
0 Comments on Learning the hard way as of 1/1/1900
So here are some more photos of our girl. She's making excellent housetraining progress. Tuesday she's scheduled to visit the vet and at the end of the month we'll start puppy training classes. No moment too soon. Jonathan is wryly concerned that Sebby is smart enough that she'll train us before we realize what is happening.
We have an unexpected, but much appreciated, new family member.
This is our Little Sebago. That's a big name for her, so we call her Sebby.
A not quite impulsive addition, when we picked her up on Wednesday night, she was so frightened that she tried to hide under bushes instead of walking. Once in the house, she tried to burrow under sleeping Noodle on the couch.
Since then she has calmed down and perked up. She's an excellent walker, which is going to be a big job to keep up with. I'm hoping that when she's full grown I can run with her. Or run while she walks. She's already able to walk the 1.5 mile loop.
We are repeatedly delighted with her personality. She is a lab and husky mix, and it seems she is endowed with a mellow and friendly character. Sebby loves other dogs and happily greets humans. When she seemed frightened and panicky, I inadvertently taught her to sit and wait for passing cars, which would be fine, if we never wanted to walk in an area with roads busier than our own lazy street. I take this as a sign that she will train easily, if we are consistent and disciplined.
Q, who is intimidated by dogs, is thrilled with her. He walks her on her lead, constantly cooing, "GoodgirlSebby!Goodgirl!GoodgirlSebby!Sebby!Goodgirl!No.Goodgirl!"
Here's a small video of Sebby playing with her found toy (the first toy I saw her really play with):
During the blackout following the hurricane, one of our family members grew so desperate for divine intervention, he found religion.
He is now to be referred to as the Pastafarian Penguin. If you are unfamiliar with the budding religion of the Flying Spaghetti Monster and its sudden popularity in Austria, please see this link.
Further investigation (or rather, I read in the newspaper) revealed that the divine intervention on the yellow house (previous hurricane post) was not a random act of grace. The tree was prepared before the hurricane to fall away from the house.
My grandmother liked to say that God helps those who help themselves.
1 Comments on Home Entertainment, last added: 9/12/2011
While away in Maine, we kept an eye on the storm warnings, each one seeming to inch the hurricane's arrival closer by 6 hours. Luckily for us, our departure day coincided with the day before the hurricane and we managed to get home, unload our borrowed kayak, unload our own kayak, throw all the lawn furniture and toys into the shed and workshop, unload the car, and watch one last movie before the storm hit.
In my opinion, our town was not hard hit. We had a lot of downed branches and trees, but most of them missed houses. The photo below features a landmark house we use to give directions to our road. Someone asked the owner, "Are you a religious woman?"
In case you can't tell, that tree is only inches away...
We were fortunate in that we are on town water, so we always had flushing toilets. I took a shower on Monday, and the water was still hot. Jonathan took one on Tuesday and got warm water...and then it was gone. I heated several pots of water on our gas stove and had a bath with Nuala. Wednesday we gave up and went to the Red Cross shelter at the junior high for showers and to meet their rescue and therapy dog Cassie.
She speaks 5 languages! She looks unimpressed in several more. She was lovely.
Before leaving, we charged our phones and computer, but there was no wifi, so we had to head to the wifi shanty towns in Old Saybrook (Jonathan's description of the Starbucks and OS library). But that hot water and the immediate kindness of all the shelter workers was really lovely.
Nuala and I made the Red Cross a chalk sign and hopscotch before we left. I hear someone was carefully washing it away later. Ah well. At least we didn't use paint.
We regained our electricity on Thursday morning, about 2 hours before a planned retreat to Massachusetts to do laundry and escape the darkness. The Canadian power workers showed up on Saturday, looking like Chippendale dancers with their jumpsuits unzipped to display their ripped abs. We would've been just as excited if they had looked like John Goodman.
In the time it took one of my neighbors to walk out to gripe about not having electricity, they had the wires live, returning electricity to our neighbors, and wifi to our home. There are rumors of residents deep on wooded roads still without power, but all the world is beginning to feel right again. We are gorging on electricity to make up for the deprivation. I even ironed. It's been so long that Quinn asked what ironing was.
Jonathan's reply: "It's when what you say is the exact opposite of what you mean."
Due to circumstances beyond our foresight, we are unable to take Q to the Statue of Liberty's crown this summer. Q is an ever flexible child and suggested we go to Boston instead, to see the Museum.
In the past we have taken the train for the Birthday Adventure, but this was the first year we brought Noodle. I learned the hard way that when Noodle is tired on a train, she bounces off the walls. Pinned down in her car seat, she falls asleep, so we decided to drive to Alewife, leave the car there, and take the MBTA from there.
From South Station, you can easily walk to the Children's Museum. Below you can see Q climbing the three story maze/net/climbing structure that greeted us.
Several of the exhibits were demonstration of self propelled power. Here you pull hard on the rope...
...and the ball (look hard) goes sproing!
Q and Noodle were also able to pull themselves (with a little assistance) high into the air...
I think Noodle's favorite room was the bubble exploration room, where I took no photos, although considering how wet and slippery it was, perhaps avoiding handling electronics was a good idea.
J and I were thrilled to see a Mac friend who now works at BCM in teacher outreach and education and ate lunch with her watching construction in the canal by the museum while Q&N mostly ignored their food and threw crumbs to the Canada geese and gulls.
In the afternoon, we hit the Public Garden. Having properly prepared the kids wit
1 Comments on Boston Adventure, last added: 7/2/2011
Now if I was trying to use photos to deceive, this is the photo I would use.
The above photo was taken in the neighbor's driveway- which drops down to the garage under her house.
Below is a photo of the most even area of snow I could find, where the kids could stand next to it for perspective. This is the back yard. The kids are in the path dug out so we can get oil delivered (and they did, just minutes after this photo was taken). Much to my great relief, the neighbor's snow blower was able to go off road to clear this path.
2 Comments on More photos for perspective, last added: 2/2/2011
Seeing this hanging on Q's door, I prepared to rip into him. I pulled it off the door and began to yell for him, when I saw what he'd put on the other side...
A second door hanger covered the rest of the household bases.
And for the Florida readers - the view from our street- I'm not sure this gives an accurate appreciation of the snow depth since the kids may be standing on a bit of snow...
2 Comments on Cabin Fever Update, last added: 1/31/2011
(Halloween: Rockhopper Penguin and "A Princess called Cinderella")
Q and I have had a spotty series of Wednesday morning breakfasts out at Kristin's. First we had car logistic problems. Then I got sick. Then Q got sick. But we were back again this Wednesday morning, Kitty tucked under his chin. I think Q was abashed that we weren't the first ones in. He shoots math problems at me, and I shoot them back. Simple addition and subtraction facts up to 12s.
He's absolutely certain that Santa is Mom & Dad, but we are unable to fully discuss the issue since he only brings it up in Noodle's hearing. We're left to vaguely threaten him if he says anything to any other child, but I think we need to schedule a meeting to firmly instill the importance of Not Ruining Santa for his sister. He's gotten quite blase about God as well, which is understandable, but now we need to have a meeting on Not Ruining Religion for other children and Not Getting in Fights.
Lately I've really been doing my homework. Honest. So I've only got bits and pieces of thoughts and nothing linear. But gems fly past me all the time. Today was a gold star day.
As I posted on FB, this morning's Noodle soliloquy was about how cats and people are different. Cats have fur, people have hair. Cats' feet are called paws, we have hands and feet. We walk on two legs, cats walk on three...
Cats are evidently on her mind. Her dessert tonight was chocolate fish (like goldfish crackers, but cookies). She offered Savannah one. I told her that Savannah wasn't really interested, although it was thoughtful of her. "Well, cats sometimes like fish," Noodle pointed out.
This evening, we sat watching a cartoon in which one character pops into the air and flies across the room. Noodle stretches out her arms to catch it.
Although, like texting, I have not yet succumbed to twittering, I have to admit most of the time, the interesting notes of my life do come down to small bits.
Just now, for example, Noodle informed me that she and Q were playing 'Cat and Cellar-person.' I haven't the slightest idea what the second half of that means.
Earlier, as she sobbed because she'd been ripped from the warm bosom of her BFF and brought home, Q asked her, "Noodle? Is New York City going through your head a lot?"
My illness of the past few days has left me with a ragged throat, visiting the pharmacy at 8 at night, where the pharmacist was so kind I wanted to hug him and then use him as a prop to drag myself back to my car. I let the kids watch an hour of unsupervised television yesterday (it started with something benign, but I know it didn't end there). Now Q is singing an ad I find so irritating I'm filled with irrational rage every time I hear it. Let that teach me to not be inattentive.
I had hoped this time off from work while my body temperature whipped up and down like a desert on fast forward would give me time to do homework, but I find myself becoming an increasingly passive observer of life. It took me at least an extra 10 seconds to respond to Q's suggestion, "Let's play that you're a bird and I'm a hunter!" (You know that won't end well.) I become winded just walking up the stairs. Forget folding laundry. It's not likely to happen.
On the bright side, we discovered that Noodle can be motivated. She whipped into top speed when we told her we were running late for preschool this morning.
0 Comments on Twittering as of 10/21/2010 5:03:00 PM
Noodle has started preschool with a persistent enthusiasm that is endearing and nearly distressing. Every day during breakfast she asks, "Am I going to school today?" Seven days a week, she asks. If the answer is negative, she turns quickly to her next most favorite topic, her new friend. "Can I play at my friend's house today?" We have explained that inviting herself over is not good manners. Noodle is undaunted. "Can my friend come here to play?" This past Sunday, as I was making dinner, Noodle burst into tears, "My friend isn't here!"
Q is settling happily into first grade. We met his new teacher last week, and she seems perfectly lovely and good natured, no doubt a job requirement. He's often tired and is battling with me over whether he can only eat the fun items I pack in his lunch box or whether he must also eat the sandwiches and/or yogurt. My current strategy is to pack only 2 sandwiches and yogurt. In a day or two we'll discuss how if he continues to eat these items, perhaps I'll give him tortilla chips and a granola bar on parole. (Honestly, all food battles seem dangerous to me. I'm the one who will suffer if he chooses not to eat and then has an epic meltdown later. Hopefully he won't figure that out.)
Recently we scored a library book by Dan Yaccarino called Every Friday. It describes Yaccarino's weekly breakfast with his son, a tradition they started when he was 3. Thinking over the matter, I decided, especially with my own classes starting, that it would be really nice to have some dedicated time with each kid individually. So Q and I have been getting up early on Wednesday mornings and trying to sneak out of the house early to have breakfast at Kristin's in Deep River. Q orders a 'dirt bomb'(a sugar and cinnamon muffin) and I get a bagel. We watch the early morning small town traffic and I try to get actual information out of Q. I now know the children whom he sits clustered with in class ("It's not a table, Mom. It's desks pushed together.") and that he gets sweaty and that's "boring." We have discussions on word choices like "boring" versus "annoying."
She's beautiful, as always. You really need to click on the photo and get the high resolution version. Notice how the cat in the window repeats the theme of the cat in Nuala's arms. This couldn't be accidental. (Could it?)
I do know that it is August and Q's birthday is June. I postponed this blog entry when Q got all excited about creating his own blog. See My Adventures. He is planning his next entry on watching the fireworks. That is, the ones he saw back on July 5th. Evidently this delayed posting thing is hereditary.
The birthday trip was another golden day. We took the train from New Haven again. As we walked into the train station, Q began skipping. My heart just swelled up. The kid really knows how to make a treat rewarding.
We've figured out that to enjoy a trip to NYC with a small child, we have to keep our plans very simple. So we had only two objectives for the day: visit the Statue of Liberty, and visit the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park.
We were a little naive, however. When we got to the statue of liberty they were making loud, grumpy announcements. You couldn't get tickets for the crown, they were sold out for the day. Worse, you couldn't get tickets to enter the monument (the lower part of the statue). Most intimidating, there was a frequent announcement that the wait was one and a half hours AFTER buying tickets, before getting on the ferry.
Q still wanted to go.
Q was still lovely, even waiting in line for a remarkable amount of time (perhaps not quite 1.5 hours, but still, a long wait).
When we returned to Castle Clinton, there were acrobats performing in the street. They had a terrific banter, and were pretty impressive. Watching them perform, I realized that in NYC, the typical summer weekday is what I imagine a typical summer weekend day anywhere else. There is no avoiding crowds. NYC is simply a crowded place.
We took the subway to Central Park to look for Alice. We overshot the statue with the expectation that we would walk to find her. We should never walk in Central Park without a map. We walked for a ridiculous amount of time (looking for bathrooms, then Alice), despite the meandering and distance, Q only got upset when he thought we were leaving the park. I'm always awed by Central Park. Despite containing thousands of people at any given time, there is a sacredness and a serenity that is breathtaking in the heart of this huge city.
Finally we did find Alice in Wonderland and her many friends. She's meant for climbing on, and we watched Q and other children swarming over her for probably half an hour.
After Q had his fill of climbing, J sat down in front of Alice, and read another chapter of Alice in Wonderland from his ipod.
So in honor of Father’s Day, I peeled the whining, fighting, sulking, tantruming children out of the house at 6am (YES BEFORE 6am THIS WAS GOING ON! Sorry for screaming.) J got to sleep till 8:30 or so. They continued to be awful until we went outside a second time and they played in the kiddie pool and with the hose and generally the screaming mostly evolved into good humored screaming. And supportive yells of, “Mom! Noodle pooped!” (in the potty. I’m sure you wondered.)
J was working today, and while I’m sure he would’ve loved to do something with the kids, he was grateful to sleep in. At least past 6:30, when normally he’d have gotten sucked in while I was hopefully out for a run (which I gave up on when Noodle spotted me after I treated Q’s cough with an inhaler).
But this evening, after dinner (lasagna, in honor of the day) and dessert (carrot cake, in honor of the day) J looked wiped. And I could’ve just taken the kids up and started baths and end of day routines. But I dug deep and took the kids out for a puddle splashing walk, which Q loved, and that turned into a trip to the small farm at the end of our road, and feeding the bunnies clover, and walking home on an early summer evening when a nice storm has cooled things off.
Then we did all the normal stuff, although it was so late we didn’t read, and I got caught up in finally doing laundry, and escorting Noodle to various potties (she’s independent in there, but doesn’t want to be all alone on the first or second floor).
And being kind to J led to being the kind of mom to my kids that I want to be more often. Must be karma.
Updates with photos on Potty Training and the new pets coming soon.
Noodle had her first dentist appointment today. She was GOOD as gold. Q had his first since he was 2. He was also very good. But he's not 3, so that's not quite as impressive. (Although he is a bit wired about being messed with.)
Afterwards, over Q's objections, we went to the nearby beach in Old Saybrook. It was low tide and we walked around looking at the crabs and broken shells and being generally happy on the beach. Some friends turned out to be there with their 3 kids, which was nice.
Noodle wanted to be carried. A Lot. My back is not good right now, so I was aware of it. She was Not Into Wading. Or the muddy sand. But we wandered into an area of hard packed sand/mud and she scampered happily away looking for shells and animal prints, a spot of brilliance in a bright yellow tulle skirt.
Every once in a while I'd look for Q & J. They were almost always hunched over checking out a tidal pool or stream. It was great to see Q do a complete reversal on his attitude.
By the time we got home, the little one was done in. She had near hysterics when we didn't let her snatch a shell from her brother. It was suffocatingly hot upstairs, and she kept getting wound up over small things ("I can't get my dress off!") and calming down only to lose it again ("Q broke my hat!" -she acknowledged it was an accident- and "I don't want to wear a tank top!").
Finally I gave up on getting her to bed quickly, stripped her down and gave her a rinse in the tub. While bathing her, and worrying that the late afternoon sun had possibly fried her skin, I realized it had been a week since her MMR shot and they warned that she might run a fever in a week.
Applied ibuprofen (always cheers up the kids) and she settled into back into sane...
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Scrolling through the blog to share pictures with the kids today I had several revelations. Not that I have neglected the blog, I blush whenever I think of it. But first was a revisiting of the fact that I cannot remember anything unless I have written it down, and sometimes not even then. Which is more motivation to blog.
Second, I found entries from when Q had just turned three. He was pushing my buttons constantly. I'd totally forgotten. He's become such a reasonable and easy going child, that I lost all recollection of previous behaviors. As I type this, he's scolding Noodle, "It's not funny! Go to sleep!" She's giggling hysterically at him.
I find this terribly reassuring. While we've recently turned a corner with Noodle, I was beside myself with impatience recently, trying to deal with her behaviors, whining, demanding, etc. In three years, she could be a mellow easy going child too.
Or not. But still, she's three (tomorrow) and I need to remember that threes are just a handful. On the grand scale, she's actually pretty cooperative and has surprising self control.
I'm actually feeling very clever right now. My boss (I have a new job working in a preschool) was giving some instructions for dealing with inappropriate behaviors from one of our kids at school. I realized I could use the same drilling technique with Noodle to avert bad behaviors. So when I really want to make my point with her, we repeat the desired language (eg: "Can I play with that please?") over and over and over. Followed with praise. I modified this with another technique recommended for use with the kids: physical prompts rather than verbal prompts. I'm tired, really really tired, of asking Noodle to say something nicely, or say please. So now, if she forgets, I hold up one finger. She often stops, mid-sentence, calms her voice out of a whine, adds please. If she simply says, "Please" I rotate my finger in a circle to indicate I want the whole sentence.
And it's working. No really. It's working.
I've also gone back to quick implementation of time-outs with the 1-2-3 warning. Usually she just needs a "One" to modify her behavior. She's such a good girl.
Of course, since hitting gets her an automatic time-out, it's hard to warn her ahead of time with that behavior. But I can only be so much of a genius at a time.
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She WAS a troll.
Sherry
Not just you!