All week long, the whole house has been excited about HD's Kindergarten Orientation, scheduled for this evening. HD was pumped, ready to go see his new (to him - the building itself is quite established) school, and RL (and by association, LT) was excited to get to stay up past bedtime to hang with one of the kids' fave babysitters while B & I took HD to the hour-long program at the school.
On the calendar, totally cool, ready to go for it. So no problem, right?
In the car, driving the handful-plus of blocks to get there, HD told us that he was "excited" and walking the whole way in to the building and through the long halls, everything was still totally fine. He held my hand the whole way but nothing seemed out of sorts.
We entered the classroom where all the kids were gathering and parents were saying goodbye-for-now to head into the gym for our own informational meetings, got HD's name tag on, and then that was it. He crumbled.
In an instant, my smiling super-excited sweet boy started crying, and when I bent down to give him a hug and an "It's OK" he latched on to my neck and would not let go.
Have I mentioned my crazy pregnant lady hormones lately? Yea, I thought so, so you can about guess the two things I started doing instantly when this all went down: tearing up and sweating. The leakiness of motherhood, my friends, is real and it lives on...even when the babe you are dealing with is five-going-on-six and soon to start school.
Now, no one else was having quite the same meltdown trouble that we were, and thankfully Ben was there to help me because had I been solo, I would have been a sobbing mess just like my dear child. I felt terrible that my kiddo suddenly felt scared or nervous or whatever it was that was getting at him exactly, but try as I did, I couldn't get him to calm down; but then, I wasn't exactly feeling so calm myself either at the moment.
Fortunately, there were some friendly and familiar faces coming into the room with their own soon-to-be Kindergarteners and the teachers were also very chill about the whole thing, so after Ben continued to talk HD down and I got some quick hugs and "It's ok!"s from fellow mamas, we were eventually able to give actual last hugs and duck out the door. Talk about unexpected! But wouldn't you know, by the time some other friends got in to drop their kiddo off (we had debriefed just outside the classroom), Harrison was apparently no longer crying. Thank goodness for turn-arounds that come just as quickly as the meltdowns, eh?!
By the end of the night, after the kids came back to join us for a final presentation and sang a goodbye song, HD was smiling again, saying he had a great time, and was willing and able to pose for this picture outside his elementary school, while holding his beautiful creation from the night - a sunflower, which went along with the theme of the name tags, storybook, etc. that was part of tonight's program. Seeing as he is my bright, shining boy, my first sunshine when skies are gray, I found it oh-so-fitting for a night of, yes, rain (and tears), but also the promise of new beginnings.
I'm beginning to think that Harrison needs a theme song. I may be decent with words, but jingles? Not so much. As of right now, the best I can do is mimic the commercials for the "Priceline Negotiator" and really, we should probably just leave it at that because without a doubt, this kid keeps (and will continue to keep for many, many years) us on our toes at all times with his mad logical skills. I could also quote a Miley Cyrus song, however that would mean admitting to having ever heard sung along with such awfulness, but again, really? He can't stop. And he won't stop. His memory is just too big and his vocabulary seems to be surpassing it on a constant basis.
Classic examples of my little Negotiator who sometimes seems to be too big for his skinny-legged britches (another truth we must face? he's got his daddy's long legs and finding pants that fit is also going to be challenging in the years ahead)? Let me give you a couple gems from, I kid you not, the last 36 hours:
Post-egg hunt at my parents' house on Easter morning, during which the children discovered various outdoor toy goodies left for them by the Easter Bunny along with the plethora of plastic eggs (because, let's face it, the E.B. dropped the ball and so had to rely on some gifts from the grandparents presented in Hunt fashion as opposed to baskets but totally works when your littles are still little enough to believe in things like said E.B.), a bubble blowing machine that the kids found was having a tough time of blowing any bubbles. You can imagine the dismay of a 3 and 5 y/o at such a turn of events, no? The toy had actually been at my folks' for a while, but was still unopened which is why we added it to the morning's loot, so when it failed to work, and we were wondering about the quality of batteries found within, my mom chimed in, "They probably need to be changed. That thing is like three years old." Which instantly caused my dear sweet Harrison to whip his head super fast to look at her and ask (in a pretty accusatory tone for a preschooler, I might add) "How do you know?!?!" Whoops! You got us there, kid!
Fast forward a handful of hours and the Welschies were so close, SO close, to being back home in Hastings, but clearly not close enough as all 5.5 of us had a very long trip back after our long weekend spent in SoDak. B and I thought it would be good to travel post-Easter dinner in hopes that kiddos would nap and we would still get home in time for supper and bedtime and all would be well. Oh, how wrong you can be as a parent.
Nothing awful, exactly, happened on the drive home, but our hopes and dreams of some peace and quiet in the car thanks to snoozing children quickly disappeared not 30 minutes into the drive when HD and RL were having pillow and stuffed animal fights and therefore a grand giggle fest in the back seat of the van, egging each other on to ignore their books and any and all commands, demands, potential rewards and consequences (i.e. losing Kindle. And stuffed animals. And blankets.) coming from B and I at the front of the van, and of course, there was the whole not-sleeping thing. For two type-A/first-borns/planners, this particular defeat was a rough one.
Linky, bless his heart, did sleep on the way home, but only for 45 minutes because then Raegge's bladder, which was also still very much not napping peacefully just like the rest of her, decided we needed to stop which of course woke Lincoln instantly. And we still had well over half of our trip to go. Yay.
So clearly by now, this post has turned from quirky notes about Harrison into full-blown post-vacation tirade on my part, but you know, you needed some background to understand just how done we all were as we rolled back into town late yesterday afternoon....
As we were a mere ten blocks from the sanctuary of our own house, Ben all of the sudden realized that the oldest two were now (playfully, but still) messing around by tugging RL's blanket (which was returned in the acceptance of oh-eff-it-clearly-you-are-not-going-to-sleep) back and forth and saying something about cutting each other. Lovely, eh? So Ben calls out from the passenger seat for them to knock it off and "change their language!" and, without missing a single beat, HD replies, "You mean like change from English to Spanish or something like that?"
I tried. I really, really tried, not to bust out laughing at that, but really? Where does he come up with this stuff?! As I let a big burst of air out of my cheeks, Ben tried to talk over me so the kids wouldn't hear me laughing so hard, and then, finally, blessedly, we pulled into our driveway and moved on to other similarly entertaining but escaping me at the moment shenanigans with The Comeback Kid.
We love him (and his literal/figurative smart mouth) so!
As a Jennifer born in the 1980s, I had no shortage of name sharing/confusion as a kid. Not that my name itself was confusing, but identifying which Jennifer I was always included my last initial which was fine. It was what it was and became exactly why 27 Jennifers by Mike Doughty has been a beloved song of mine for years:
Jenny M. That was me. Until 6th grade (or was it 5th? - c.r.a.p. I am getting old if I can't remember that detail) when a bunch of us Jennifers of Lincoln Elementary banded together and decided to take charge. We would all be a different version (spelling) of Jenny and it just so happened that I ended up with the "I" on the end of mine instead of the "Y" and my parents totally went with it (unlike some friends who tried for more, um, unique spellings and were totally denied by their parental units, or maybe just got sick of the change in time and went back to Jenny ___). Me? I ran with this new approach to my name and never looked back. And I know it is a wee bit silly because you can't hear a darn bit of difference when you say "Jenni" versus "Jenny" but I can definitely tell you which one looks like my name and which one does not when I see it written.
Perhaps this whole name game from my youth is adding to the confusion I feel now as a parent because I am extremely befuddled as to why my children have decided to call me by completely different names. Maybe other moms out there don't really care what their kids call them or don't care if the name is constantly changing. But to me, my mom name is Mama. Ben and I started calling me that from the very beginning with Harrison and while HD will throw a Mom my way every now and then, we're 5.5 years into knowing me as Mama. Except Raegan, for well over a year, has been calling me Mommy and I just don't get it. I never refer to myself this way and like Jenny-with-a-"y" it sounds funny to me to hear myself referenced as such. I won't even bother asking if my response to this whole situation is normal because my guess is no, it's not - I've just picked something weird to get hung up on, but actually, that's my point.
After months of (semi-passive-aggressive?) attempts to correct RL (never telling her she is wrong but referring to myself in third person a LOT in hopes of showing her the light but obviously failing), I've decided to let it go. If Baby Girl wants to call me Mommy nine times out of ten, then that is what she's going to call me. It probably makes sense, actually, that my kids would have different names for me because while I am a mother to all of them, our individual relationships are unique and what they need from me on a daily basis is never the same.
So Mama/Mommy/Ma (which is where Linky is currently with a name for me)? They all work. They all represent the role I so gratefully get to play in the lives of these growing, learning, always going individuals and I am honored to be that person to each of them, no matter what they call me. Well, not Hey, You!. That version (and life with teens) is probably coming sooner than I think, but whatever mom name(s) the children decide upon as they grow is going to have to start with an "M" - I'm too much of an English Major to let all rules and convention slide!
Years ago I stumbled upon an adorable little notebook designed specifically to keep track of all the cute/funny/ridiculous/oh-please-never-let-me-forget-this things that kids say as they grow.
I've used it all of like, maaaaaaybe 10 times. *sigh*
It's not that I don't absolutely love the concept of the notebook, but the moments when I think "Oo! I should write that down!" are never the moments when I am actually near the notebook, pen-in-hand, ready to record the totes adorbs-ness of my wee ones. At times, I've written whole posts dedicated to toddler-isms and those are fun, but again, I just don't do it on a regular enough basis, so I know some of these funny phrases are going to fade out both from usage and my memory, and eventually Raegan will learn to say "Surprise!" instead of "Ka-Prize!", and I won't remember just how many times Lincoln really said "UP!" and "NO!!!" in one day (we'd be horrified if we'd actually count, especially the second one), or Harrison will no longer refer to events as happening "accidentally-maybe-on-purpose-actually" and so on.
In the spirit of keeping my Littles little, I want to do a bit more of so-called record keeping, documenting their budding personalities and passions, both in the words/phrases they use and in the totally-random-but-how-did-I-not-see-this-coming stories of raising my little future interrogators.
Today's entrainment stemmed from a conversation between HD and myself during lunch, after he was dropped off from preschool and while RL & LT were upstairs napping. This is our mid-day routine pretty much every day, and it is pretty much awesome because I get some one-on-one time with him right after he gets home from school and we get to chat and eat together before we both go our separate ways for screen time (or, in my case, a nap) (and P.S. you know I'm kidding right? I don't actually abandon him while he plays on the Kindle). Typically I don't get a whole lot of info out of him as he mows down his food, but this afternoon sparked a series of questions that I now fear is never going to end.
Because we know some friends planning a trip to Disney World, HD spent the first part of our lunch asking me about what Disney World actually is. And once he put two and two together to realize that it is basically a big playground populated by some of the characters most beloved by children in the history of children, it wasn't more than 15 seconds before he asked, "Is there an Angry Birds Land???" because, let's face it - that's where his heart is/was/and will perhaps forever be.
Being the tech-savvy mama that I am, I instantly took to Google-fu to find out that yes, yes there IS an Angry Birds Land, which I showed him via pictures on Google Images and a random video of a teenager reviewing some new rides on youtube (one of those parenting moments that could have been horrible because I did not view it prior to showing to my 5yo, but which fortunately turned out to be harmless except for that fact that it made my 5yo want to go to there even more so than before and sooner, too.). But for the life of me, I could not freaking figure out where on earth this said Land actually resides. The double dots (ha! I'm sure there is a proper term for those, but are you kidding me? this baby in my belly is taking brain cells by the second. I'm lucky I have any words in my own language left!) were a pretty good indicator, though, that we were screwed because there was no way that meant the Lower 48, you know?
After some more investigating, I finally figured out that the location is in fact Finland. I think. Again, see the above note about brain cells. But pretty sure it's something Scandinavian, which man, I would love to visit that part of the world, but are you kidding me?! Why does Angry Birds Land have to be in Scandinavia?!
In an attempt to explain to HD just how far away Finland is from Nebraska, I pulled up a world map next to show him that we would have to go over an ocean to get there and that would be hard because it would take a really long time and cost a LOT of money, which of course led to the questions of how long? and how much? which in turn lead to me pulling up Priceline and finding the answers: over a day of travel and a mere $1200 for one adult to get to Helsinki (which, for the record, I have no proof is actually even geographically close to ABL or not).
Of course none of my lesson in Internet research made a lick of difference in terms of actually getting said 5yo to accept that we probably aren't going to ABL any time soon/ever. In fact, the whole quest seemed to latch in his brain even more after seeing the images and I heard about very little else the rest of the day. I was thrilled - elated, I tell you! - for Ben to get home after school so I could go to my dentist appoint to have my teeth cleaned (not even kidding) and laughed myself out the door as I listened to HD tell B, "It's Fin-LIND not Fin-LAND, Daddy." Oh, the things a young boy can learn in an afternoon.
He wants to go next week, by the way, for my birthday, or for a Special Mama and Harrison Date, or maaaaaaaybe, he'll be okay with going on the 30th of the month. But really, that's probably too long to wait if you really ask him.
I would say, let's just hope The Next Big Thing comes along soon, but seeing how long he's been on the Angry Birds kick itself, I do not have high hopes of forgetting Finland any time soon.
Saturday afternoon, while Ben and the littlest Littles played on the trampoline/sunporch/awesomeness, HD came in to find me reading in the living room, reporting that, "Mama, my brain feels fuzzy." Let this be a lesson learned: when your kid cites a fuzzy brain, be prepared for all hell to break loose within 48 hours of such proclamation.
Yesterday, of course, was a warning, too. I got home from teaching shortly after 10:00 and within the hour, Harrison made his way to the couch and then proceeded to stay there for the next 5+ hours, spiking a fever over 102 and falling asleep for more than one restless, cough-filled nap. It's never a good sign when my uberactive kiddo takes to the couch to rest, much less crash out, so we knew for sure he would be home from school today to rest, recover, and hopefully not infect the rest of his class with whatever was bugging him.
This morning, I figured I was in for the typical hyperactivity of a kid who is kept home from school but is feeling so much better that they just bounce off the walls all day long. For the first few hours of the day, it looked like my prediction was right. There was no wall bouncing, per say, but there was breakfast and chatter and a snack and a general light in HD's eyes that made me think we were on the up and up. But then 10:00 came again - hmmmm....what's w/ the 10:00 fever stuff? aren't fevers supposed to strike later in the day?! - and shortly thereafter, he was back to the couch in the living room, burning up and literally leaking from his eyes because he felt so crappy. In plain English you might call that crying, but it wasn't like he was sobbing; it was really more like his body felt so awful that a slow steady stream of tears was the only way to express itself. Panicked by the swift return of his high fever, I called our doctor's office and left a voicemail with the nurse on-call.
Three-and-a-half hours later, she was able to call me back and thankfully they had one spot left open to see someone today, and even more thankfully, it was at 4:00 so I could wait for Ben to get home and take HD instead of me having to drag all three kids (which would include the so far, knock on wood, perfectly healthy ones) there and back. While we waited for Ben to get home to actually take him to the appointment, Harrison stayed like this on the couch and I did my best to keep his brother and sister away from his germ bubble:
No surprise, but the doctor's visit confirmed Influenza A and when they first took his temp, he was at a terrifying 104 degrees (at least, to me, that is a terrifying temp). So while there isn't much we can do besides give him some Tamaflu and keep him home (for, who knows, the rest of the week?), at least we know what we're up against and that it is likely he'll be feeling cruddy for another 3-4 days. And of course we'll be keeping a super close eye on everyone else in the family, with fingers crossed that no one else gets it, because holy crap, it is scary to watch your baby hurt like this and I will hit full-on freak out mode if RL or LT spike similar temps.
While I know logically that I too need to respect the germ bubble, I can't help but want to hold Harrison while he's sick and have been doing so while he naps on the couch as much as I can. Ben echoed my feelings exactly tonight over dinner when he said, "You just wish you could have the 104 temp, and never your kid." -- every time I hug HD or put my hand on his head or neck, I wish so badly that I could take away the fever and the pain of the flu. And I gladly would be sick if it meant none of my babies had to be, but such is parenthood. We know we cannot keep our Littles from every hurt or germ in this world, so try as we may to prevent, in the end all we can do is love on them and do our best to ease the aches in whatever little ways possible, over and over again. In this case, easing through tomorrow will mean a lot of blue Gatoraid, footy pajamas, as well as endless rounds of napping/Curious George marathons. Here's hoping it all works.
Sometimes the stars align and a gray and foggy Saturday turns out to be the best. day. EVER. After the hubbub of a holiday open house and prenatal training last weekend (which, oh my gosh, I didn't even write about!), I was pretty excited to have a quiet weekend at home this week. We had a great staycation over Thanksgiving and as much as I love getting to visit people, it was really lovely to have time at home. As you may have noticed from my various posts over the last few months, this fall has been a wee hectic just in our day-to-day life, so any time we get to slow down and just be (and be at home) is quite enjoyable. And even though today has been far from just at home or slow, it has been lovely.
First of all, I got to sleep in, which you babes in parentland (or pet parentland) know, is a rare occasion indeed. And it wasn't so much "sleeping in" as it was shutting the door and pretending to go back to sleep after the kids came in to open their Christmas book for the day at 6:30 a.m. sharp, and also pretending not to hear them as they played quite loudly before and after (during?) breakfast with their dad, but all the same, it was nice to linger under the covers/in the dark. I've picked up the pace with my yoga practice lately, which normally means I'd be at a class this morning, but I managed to hit three classes this week on top of the ones I taught, so I chose home this morning instead which felt nice, too.
Also nice was the fact that Ben already had plans to take the kids to a high school basketball game this morning so shortly after I "got up" they rolled out, leaving me to do some home yoga practice (think literal practice of Sun Salutations since avani will be hosting a 108 event on Dec. 21st for the Winter Solstice which I get to lead!) and laundry, before I headed out the door for some Christmas shopping (because hi, it's December 13th and I haven't done a bit of that yet. Whoops!). And while I did not make it to the Post Office this morning to ship said purchases, I'm still feeling better about the ever-present (ha - puny) To Do list that comes with December. Thanks to the hubs and kids for stopping at the store, we're also sugar-stocked so we can practice making some treats for HD's preK Christmas program which will take place next week. Side note: What gives H-town? We went to three different grocery stores throughout the day and no one, NO ONE, has Christmas (red) Oreos? How does that even happen?!
The true gift of today, however, came in dates that I got to have with both HD and RL. Truth? I originally planned a date with just Harrison that would take place while Raegan napped, but quickly realized this morning that she was going to be bummed by that, so after her nap, she and I headed out for our own girl time. But for HD, I picked up tickets weeks ago at our dentist's office for a free showing of The Polar Express at the Rivoli downtown. As you may remember from the book countdown, Harrison is a bit enthralled with TPE this year in part because we discovered the soundtrack on Spotify over Thanksgiving and he's loving this particular fast song (and will listen to it on repeat for 30+ minutes if you let him/can keep your ears from falling off for that duration):
So, yes. When I saw that TPE was one of the free holiday movies this year, I grabbed tickets, put it on the calendar, and was so excited to tell him about our date plans (but not until the day of because, whoa - if you don't know that parenting trick yet, it's a good one!). He was pumped, too, and we got there nice and early so we could grab good seats and a nice big (which was really the small, but wow) tub of popcorn.
We sat and talked about the movie theatre and the crowd and the book and all that until the movie started and then we settled in for the next hour-and-a-half show. Unlike the last movie date we had (which was the day before LT was born!), Harrison stayed in his own seat the whole time (as opposed to my lap), although there was a point in which he was very much leaning over on me (not that I was complaining). Also different was his agreement to leave before the credits were over (again, not complaining!), and in the lobby as we got his hat on before heading outside, he told me, "That was the best date ever!" Sweet boy! I thought, but then my heart about split in two (in a Grinch-growing-two-sizes-way) when we got back to the car and HD gave me a big hug, saying, "Thank you, Mama! Thank you for taking me!" before climbing in his seat. His eyes and voice were filled with emotion which made my eyes get a little teary because, goodness, do I love this kid. His sweet heart and ever-questioning sense of wonder make me so proud - it was so beautiful to be able to get some time for just the two of us and to see/feel how much he appreciated it, too. Who knew a free movie would turn into such a Kodak moment, but there ya have it - two happy souls post-movie:
And then it was Miss Raegan's turn. A friend of mine was hosting a liquidation party for a line of jewelry she used to sell, so I told Raegan pre-nap that we could go to that together and do some Christmas shopping, too, and sure enough, as soon as she got up from nap, she came running down the stairs to ask if it was time to go to see the jewelry. And because it was such a good deal (and because my friend S was so sweet to Raegge), RL walked away with a lovely collection (all in purple) which included a bow set, a toddler-sized bracelet, and her very first ring (butterfly shaped). I got a new necklace, and after we got home post third grocery store stop and quick side trip into Eileen's for a shared frosted Grinch cookie, we modeled our new finery for the boys:
Date night with the hubs is up next (the stay-in version which, after eight years of wedded bliss probably equals curled up on the couch watching a movie or starting a new show on Netflix) and while I'm sorry that Linky is the only one not to get any special one-on-one time today, I'm comforted by the fact that I got a few hugs and snuggles from as well as the fact that almost 1 1/2 yr-olds don't really understand the concept of dates yet and therefore can't get too mad at me for not keeping the face time totally equal today. This, by the way, is his classic Lincoln growling but happy monster face. :)
In terms of the weather, it was a less than beautiful day, but as for me and mine? It was a beyond beautiful day of time together in all kinds of combinations, and each filled with love.
Wishing you all some happy heart moments, too, as you continue your holiday prep!
December! How on earth is it December already (which I'm pretty sure is going to be one of the opening lines for my Christmas letter this year because, seriously, how is it even possible?)?! I guess it sure feels like it, now, not that you'll find me complaining about the high 70s we had on Saturday; my little family spent the whole day outside and soaked up every last ounce of warmth and sunshine we could. We knew we'd need it! Now that the freezing cold is here, most likely to stay, we've got to find other ways to keep warm and entertained, which leads me to our Christmas Book Countdown. We haven't ever tried any other sort of advent calendar, but we did a Christmas book a day last year in December and it was a great success. Well, the kids loved it, anyway, and even though I got very sloppy on my plans to record openings/reactions (see here), the grown ups in our house enjoyed it, too. Who doesn't love getting to open presents early (and what parent doesn't love gifts that will continue to give, year after year?!).
So here is this year's countdown. While this looks like the shortest post in the history of my blog, I'll keep adding to it throughout the month so we have list of this year's proceedings, no matter how rough my notes get as the actual holiday approaches. We have swapped out a few titles from last year, so some books aren't in the rotation at all, but the majority of them are ready and waiting in shiny snowflake wrapping paper under our tree right this minute.
1) The Night Before Christmas by Clement C. Moore -- HD got to pick first (RL opened - a pattern we'll keep reversing each day, as Linky is still too little to get it this year and we don't really want to encourage him grabbing and tearing anything from under the tree just yet!), and while he wanted oh. SO. Badly for the book to be The Polar Express, we got this one instead. HD was bummed but RL was excited and has been carrying it around the house this morning. Last year we took pictures of the kids opening their first book and then of them snuggled up in my lap reading it. This year, Ben supervised the grabbing of the book before he hopped in the shower to get ready for work and I did my best to pry my eyes open as they stood next to my bed, tearing off the paper and looking through it. What a difference a year makes, eh? But in all seriousness, we look forward to continuing this tradition and I am hoping they'll let their dear, old mama keep doing this for decades to come! And in all fairness, we got this pic yesterday when they were busy sorting them (and in HD's case, trying to decide which one might be TPE) and preparing to begin the countdown today. Love my little bookworms!
2) The Berenstain Bears Meet Santa Bear by Stan and Jan Berenstain -- well, obviously still no sign of TPE, but this title was still met with joyous exclamations (the children love TBB) and immediate crawling in bed, one on each side, by RL & HD for early-morning reading. Good stuff!
3) Richard Scarry's Best Christmas Book Ever
4) The Polar Express
5) Jingle Bells
6) The Legend of the Candy Cane by Lori Walburg
7) The Spirit of Christmas by Nancy Tilman - love her books.
8) Santa Comes to Nebraska
9) Busy Town Christmas Board Books
10) An Otis Christmas by Loren Long
11) Olivia Helps with Christmas! by Ian Falconer -- Oh, Olivia. You are so funny!!!
12) Thomas the Train: Christmas Delivery
13) The Christmas Story -- think managers, not pink bunny PJs.
14) A Star So Bright
15) The Nutcracker by Gail DeMarcken
16)
17) The Grinch Who Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss
18) Home for Christmas by Jan Brett
19) The Best Christmas Ever - Junior Discovers Contentment by Dave Ramsey
20) The Twelve Days of Christmas by Jan Brett
21) Christmas in the Big Woods adopted Laura Ingalls Wilder
22) Stick Man by Julia Donaldson and Alex Scheffler
23) The Christmas Magic by Lauren Thompson
24) The Legend of St. Nicholas by Dandi Daley Mackcall
25) Merry Christmas, Curious George! by H. A. Rey
A little over three years ago, when Harrison was just a wee little peanut getting ready to head to preschool for the first time, I thought he was going to L-O-V-E swimming lessons. His preschool is at the Y and therefore swim lessons are part of the curriculum. Perfect! I thought, because while I can swim (it's not pretty), I'm certainly not qualified to teach him how to do it. The first time came and went, but when the second one rolled around two weeks later, I realized we were in trouble. HD was not a fan. Not at all. There was not "Yay! Swimming Day!!!" at our house after the initial day. More likely it was tears and fighting to get his suit on so he'd be ready for the day, every single time. Truth? I made Ben do that. It became such a battle that I had to remove myself from the situation and let B calmly get HD in his suit for the bimonthly day of lessons before he left for school. I did my part last year, however, and came up with the Brave Toes solution. That got us through Year Two, ahem, swimmingly.
So just when I thought we had this swimming gig figured out, Year Three came along with an unexpected twist: swimming lessons every.blessed.week. of the year. Wha??????? I guess it makes sense. He's with his class every day of every week so they have time to do a morning one day of each of those weeks in the pool. And it's not a "day" of swimming. It's a 15 minute lesson that is part of centers, with time for prep and drying off tacked on before and after the lesson. I thought after HD's improvement last year that he'd be fine with the increase, and at first, he was. But by the end of September, he had clearly realized that something was very different about this year's swimming schedule which lead to meltdown city in early October.
We have always, always, told HD that it's his choice to swim when he gets to school. We ask that he put his suit on and we talk about being brave and proud and all that, but ultimately, it is always his choice. And he always chooses to swim. Even on the day he dissolved his teacher's arms prior to his lesson, he still chose to get in the pool. So why the upset? I really don't know. He's just very anxious about getting his face in the water and even though we practice in the tub at home, he's been struggling this whole month on swim days. And since Raegan has music and art classes at the YW and CMCN on Tuesdays, I can't really get there to help except for the odd week of the month that does not have Toddler Art, which just so happened to be today for October.
After working plans out with Harrison's classroom teacher, we made arrangements so I could get there after Raegan's music class this morning to help HD get changed and watch him during his lesson. [I actually got in on some center time too which was pretty awesome (still could never be a preschool teach though and bow down to any and all who are!), and then it was lesson time.] HD wasn't nervous at all, which he told me would be the case when we talked about it at breakfast, because I was there. And while that's super and flattering, we've got to figure out some more coping skills because obviously this is not going to be a regular thing.
As it stood today, I'm glad I was able to get there at least once because I learned a lot. Standing and watching his group get in the pool and do their warm up exercises was eye opening. The teachers kept telling Harrison (and some of the other kiddos) to relax their feet as they kicked the water. Then when practicing putting their faces in, it was "relax" your neck to let the air/bubbles out. And again, when doing Fat Bears (or is it Flat Bears?!), I heard it multiple times, for multiple kids. The concept makes so much sense. If the body is tense, you cannot move with or respond to the water and let your breath work for you. Tense your neck and you cannot release air. Go stiff in your legs or ankles and you cannot kick to stay afloat. Basically, the message is: hold on to the stress and you cannot succeed. Can we say, "Metaphor Alert"?!
As I'm sure you've already guessed, some other lightbulbs went off in my head while watching HD's 15 minute lesson. When his swim teachers kept talking about relaxing and letting the breath go, the body be loose, I of course thought of yoga. How many times have I heard (and said!), the body and the mind go where the breath go. If your breath is racing, your heart and your head will be as well. Deep breaths relax us, allow us to move, and sustain us during times of turbulence. How have I never before seen the connection between swimming and yoga? Well, probably because I don't swim, but lucky for me, I have a friend who is currently teaching an early morning class in the pool and I've discovered that starting my mornings early (while subbing at the Y last week and this week) is very worthwhile, so perhaps I'll get some more practice and peace with the water that way. As with any other mood, kids pick up on our attitudes, and I'm sure Harrison feels my lack of confidence with the water. Beyond getting myself to the pool, now I see how I can help my sweet boy away from the swimming lesson days, as well, by talking about his breath and breathing. We use calming breaths a lot in our house (some days more than others and usually me, not them, but you know - I'm leading by example, right?), but directly talking about relaxing his body while in the pool? That will be new and hopefully very, very helpful.
Really, today was a huge success, not only because HD had a calm lesson before, during, and after, but also because I got to witness him in struggle while simultaneously being presented with a solution for potential improvement. I am grateful for the insight and the knowledge I have through my own training and am fingers crossed that it/I can help him.
I have a thing for lamps. You can ask my hubs or my family and they will tell you - the funkier the lamp, the more I am likely to like it. Part of my collection is a small bedside lamp that I've had since high school or before and I adore it. It's so old that it actually feels like it is made of something (heavy) and if I knew anything about metals, I would insert that detail here. Since I don't, I'll continue by explaining that while this isn't my funkiest of the funky lamps, it is still one of my favorites (even though the shade is totally busted and also a wee bit burnt in one spot, but that is another story altogether). Imagine my surprise the other night, then, when I went to turn on this very familiar lamp before bed and couldn't find the knob that is, you know, the essence of a light being able to do its job. After groaping (is that not a word? my computer claims it is not) [update: groping!] around for far longer than I should have to on a lamp I've had for 15+ years, I stuck my head down to peer under the shade and saw this:
No knob! (and yes, I really want to paint this room something other than
the purple it was when we moved in - almost three years ago!)
While I had no idea where the darn thing was, I knew right away who my culprit(s) was (were). The children have taken, lately, to playing around on my bed in the mornings, messing with the alarm clock radio that sits on my headboard shelves (which, no, still does not explain my early morning mess up last week), as does this lamp. I did the cursory scan of the shelves and under pillows and blankets and the bed itself, but no knob. Then I noticed this:
A small wicker basket from my Africa travels that does not normally reside
upside down. Intrigued, I flipped it over and whaddya know - the knob!
Thankfully, this is an easy fix for my funky lamp. You simply hold the knob in its spot, twist, and viola! Good as new. But seriously, children? This is what you decided to do when you broke Mama's lap?! I can only imagine what kind of shenanigans they'll be getting into in the ages and stages to come...I can only hope that their antics continue to make me laugh as much as this one did!
P.S. And no, I'm not currently reading The Kite Runner. I'm already light years behind on reading it, but it's on my list and my bedside table, so I'll get there someday. I am keeping track again this year, though, and will post titles read in December. I'm up to 40ish, so far, I think!
Huh. With all the writing I've been doing the last few months, I'm rather surprised that it has been an entire week and I haven't added anything to the blog. Perhaps the weather's been too nice and we've been too busy doing and being outside. Or perhaps I've been swamped with teaching and by the time I get home at night, I'm crashed out. Or perhaps having the kids go, in shifts, to visit the grandparents meant I had to make the most of the 24 solo hours I had, starting yesterday morning, to get a c.r.a.p.ton of stuff done around the house (i.e. clean the store room) while also taking a little time for myself (i.e. epsom salt + essential oils bath!) before, again, jetting off to teach the yogs. Or perhaps when you throw all of the above into one week, you come up short with time to blog. Whatever the reason, here's our week-in-review a.k.a. hodge-podge-picture-blog:
The weather has been gorgeous. Clear and sunny skies but with bits of bite in the air most mornings. Some wind (duh. this is NE we're talking about!), yes, but mostly just awesomeness. The kids and I have been getting out in the afternoons and having fun. We've also been practicing for Halloween:
RL found this old costume that is probably closer to LT's size than hers, but she got it on and decided to have some Dragon Fun stomping in the leaves...
...and chasing her big brother though the neighbor's yard.
Silly monkey! I mean, Silly Dragon!
Because of the nip in the air, we've had to add more layers lately (love Fall layers!) which totally works, except I did this to poor Linky the other day. Why must buttons be so hard to align when fastening them together?! Perhaps I can blame his wiggles and constant on-the-move moves?
The cooler weather also means we have to be sure to be in shoes all the time which totally works, too, but some days we have to get pretty creative with our footwear. For example, on Wednesday, I followed HD's lead (he wears this combo of shoes to school more days than not anymore) and just went with the first two shoes I could find so we could go out and enjoy the sunshine. They're both TOMS, so that counts for something right?!
Speaking of creative dressing and TOMS, check out Miss Raegan's style from the last couple weeks. She loves wearing her polka dot pink rain boots with pretty much anything, and the other day she was just as excited as I was about getting out my TOMS wedges (again, I say, "YAY, Fall!"). I will never tire of Baby Girl's fashion sense. Well, I guess I can't speak to what the teenage years will bring, but right now, I'm totally loving it. Every single crazy combo is the best.
In other news, Lincoln is a Walking Man! Well, he's got the wobbly sea legs/drunken toddler thing going, anyway, and he pops up anywhere and whenever he likes now to take his shaky steps.
It's adorable and awesome. Except when it is not. The poor kid crashes all the time and it seems like at least once a day, one of those crashes involves also hitting his head on something on the way down, like the kitchen bench last Wednesday which lead to this round of tears:
Poor baby. Seriously considering a foam crash helmet of sorts because otherwise he's going to be a bruised mess for who knows how long.
Besides all the playing and walking (and crashing), I've been a busy mama, running out the door to teach one (sometimes two!) yoga class(es) a night. This last week saw me teaching Tuesday-Friday straight (with Monday at the college, of course) and next week will be even more of an adventure as I'm starting a two-week subbing gig at the Y for their 5:45 a.m. class. 5:45 A.M.?! Oof. Well, at least I'll feel nice and limber for the T/Th that follow those classes (and I'll have some extra cash for buying coffee on the way home!). And at least I got a little break yesterday to sort through all the kid clothes that have been piling up in my store room so I feel slightly less scattered and cluttered going into two weeks of chaos fullness. Can I just say, though? How did my babies get so big? All those clothes I was putting in bins yesterday? They seemed both so tiny and also like it was impossible for all of the kids to have outgrown them already. Goodness me, I sound like I'm 85, but how do they grow so fast?!
And speaking of growing...my other plans of late are revolving around finishing starting RL's Year Three Shuttefly book and getting ready for her Frozen bday party. Here's what I found the other day as her present/to wear on her party day:
And yes, it's entirely possible I bought these for her because they are totally in line with my own crazy-yoga-pant obsession. Hope she likes them!
Since the stories behind these images (taken the last few days) are lengthy, I'll let them do most of the talking while I do a wee bit of the explaining...
HD climbed up to help me make my playlist for Family Yoga on
Sunday; it's safe to say he missed me last week!
OMG! I finally got a sewing machine. I haven't sewed much since my quilting days in college, and I have a big project that I'd like to complete for HD's preK (more to come on that in a later post), so I am super stoked about this arrival. Except now I need, like, bobbins and thread and stuff, not to mention the brain cells required to operate the darn thing!
OMG again, but for all the wrong reasons. Do you see those two purple spots on RL's cheek? Yea, those are LT TEETH marks. I wasn't in the room with them when this happened, so I can only guess what she might have done to provoke this, but Baby Dude is totally a biter which is totally not cool.
For Pete's Sake. There is no longer a single surface
that is either safe or mine left in this house.
The little buggers are still super cute, though. This is them with their
"space gear" and friends, ready to get on their rocket ship
(a.k.a the love seat) which has been entertaining them,
blessedly, for a good half hour or so.
One result of the desk top takeover....creative calendar dates.
Actually, though, it sort of does feel like the 56th of August,
so maybe this is just flat out brilliant instead of bothersome.
Look at this sweet face. This is a beautiful, honest face. He is a beautiful, honest boy. But to ward off surreptitious glances at my tummy or any waistline watching, let me be the first to say, DO NOT BELIEVE A WORD THIS CHILD SAYS if he tells you another baby is coming into our house sometime soon!
As you know, we love us some PBS Kids in this house. Love! But I am totally throwing the blame for this sudden upswing of conversation about babies and tummies and new babies coming on Daniel Tiger. Apparently new episodes are coming soon and DT is getting a sib of his very own, and my kids are totally enthralled by the whole thing....so much so that they came running to tell Ben about it the first time a "Coming Soon" trailer ran after Curious George last week and today we had this whole long conversation about what we thought it would be (boy or girl) and what they would name it (Luke, btw, if it is a boy, and we didn't get around to a girl's name, although that's my gender guess, for the record). Enthralled, I tell you!
At first I didn't think much of it. Actually, I thought it sounded like a great storyline because hellluuu, siblings bring on all kinds of new emotions and shtuff for the characters to deal with which is great for the kids watching (i.e. mine). But then we were at the library this morning and I heard something along the lines of "And then there's the baby in Mama's tummy, too!" come out of HD's mouth and made in reference to me, not Daniel Tiger's (or anyone else's for that matter) mom. Sorry, what?! No, sweet child. There's no new baby yet. I guess this is what we get, though, for talking so openly about wanting another babe...a five-yr-old who is not only on board but who is ready for it to be True now.
You've got to love that he loves being a big brother so much that he's ready to be one for the third time over, but, like I said, currently, it's not pending. If my son tells you otherwise, feel free to nod and smile, but don't put any stock in it. I promise, when we have news to share, we will do so!
The last two afternoons, HD and I have ventured out on Mama & Harrison dates after lunch while the Littles (and quite possibly Ben) napped. Yesterday we left for our date hand-in-hand with HD saying, "Mama, I love being your date." I know in ten years I'm not likely to get anything close like that from him, so I was totally head-over-heels in love with the whole thing. Apparently he was, too, because he told Ben before bed last night that he wanted to get rest so he could go on another date with Mama the next day. Seriously?! How freaking sweet is that? Of course I was totally on board.
For today's date, we ended up at a McDonald's with a play structure in it so I could get an iced coffee and he could play. He saw the play set when we drove by yesterday and I promised we could stop today since we couldn't then. He was so jazzed to go check it out and because he is who is he, he instantly started playing with the other kids who happened to be there. That's just Harrison. For as long as I can remember, he's been willing to go up to anybody anywhere and make friends. He just wants to play and that's it. Doesn't really matter how old the kid is or what they look like. He's got a big heart and a lot of energy and he just wants to play.
Today's new playmate happened to be a little girl the same size as Harrison but who was clearly older (tall kid problems....not even five yet and people are always shocked to hear he's not six) and her sister, also about HD's size but also older. They were there with their grandma and mom who was sitting right next to the play set, feeding their little brother who looked to be somewhere between RL and LT's ages. I mention all of these details because they eventually mattered quite a bit to our experience this afternoon.
Everything went fine at first, and the kids were playing and running because that is the point of the play area at McDonald's. At one point the other mom scolded her daughter for shrieking, but I thought, whatever; as long as people were following the kind/fair rules, I was good with it. Eventually, though, I could hear Harrison saying something like, "I don't like that" or "That's not kind" and something about "break in the action" because the one girl was teasing him. Mad props to my kid. He didn't hit. He didn't yell. He took it in stride and stood up for himself using his words calmly and controlled.
Because Harrison was still smiling and playing, I let the situation run its course for a bit. Eventually the kids ended up right in front of where I was sitting and at this point the girl's sister joined them and she asked how old Harrison was. "I'm seven" she said with the most superiority a seven y/o can muster, and Girl No.1, who had already had this conversation with HD said, "I am older than you, too." And sweet Harrison? He responded by saying, "Yeah, but there are other people like me. Other people are four, too." Which, translated, was him saying, "Yes, I'm different but I'm not alone and it doesn't make you better than me." Again, mad props to my kid. No anger. Just being himself.
Without skipping a beat, Girl No.1 says, "Well, I hate you and nobody likes you."
I'm sorry. WHAT?! I about fell off my chair when I heard her say that. And her mother, who was still sitting right there feeding the little brother, in plain range to hear all of this, did nothing. I stood up to make sure Harrison was OK, and as the other sister ran away, Girl No.1 stopped right in front of Harrison, telling him again that no one liked him, and bumped her belly out to bump HD. That's when my Mama Bear side took over.
"Excuse me," I said. "Please stop touching and talking to him like that." As she scampered off (and her mother still said NOTHING), I put my hand on Harrison's shoulder and asked if he was OK. He made a comment about not liking what they had said and I answered with a (loud enough for everyone to hear), "I know, Buddy. That wasn't nice and it wasn't kind. You don't have to be around that." And I said it loudly on purpose because clearly their mom, who was so concerned about the shrieking, did not care at all that her daughters were teasing and tormenting and physically acting out toward a younger kid (not that it would be OK against an older kid, either). I wanted them to hear, to know, that going around spreading hate - literally - is unacceptable.
Fortunately they packed up within five minutes and left which allowed HD to play on his own a bit before another little girl and her brother showed up who turned out to be much better playmates. We hung around for another ten minutes or so and then continued on to the next part of our date, but man, the whole thing sent me on a weird vibe for a greater part of the afternoon.
In the immediate after, right when they left, I called Harrison over to sit next to me so we could talk about it and I told him I was sorry that the girls said those things and that I loved him. Later, a good hour after we had left, I brought it up again just to make sure he was OK. When I told him that it wasn't true what they said, my heart broke a little when he looked up at me with his beautiful hazel eyes and asked, "It's not?" Oh. Em. Gee. My sweet, sweet boy. Of course not! I told him that no way was what they said true. That he's awesome and that so many people love him. That I love him forever and always. And he smiled and said, "Oh, good. That makes me glad. I love you, too, Mama." And while that final part of the exchange healed my heart a bit, the whole experience made me want to stick him in a bubble and preserve his heart and keep him shielded from all the people out there who don't know how to treat others. But since that's not an option, we have to find a way to teach our kids what we believe: that there is good in the world, that you get what you give, that being kind to others always matters. Of course we are going to encounter evil and hate and negativity in this world and in this life. That is life. But how we respond and how we move forward speaks volumes about our own hearts and character and can hopefully have positive impacts on others.
Do I think today's exchange at McDonald's changed those girls or their mom for the better? Sadly, probably not. But the whole thing gave me an opportunity to remind my son of how special and how loved he is today and every day, and it gave me a fire in my belly to remind other people and parents that our presence is crucial. Is my kid perfect? Far from it, but you can bet if I see him speaking or acting unkindly to another person, I am going to interfere. I am going to call him out on it and if he doesn't change the behavior, he'll be removed from the situation. I'm all for kids working out stuff on their own as much as they can, but you've got to be kidding me. We have to BE the parents here, people. We have to teach them that words are not just words and that it doesn't mean nothing when a six or seven year-old says, "I hate you. Nobody likes you." Words are our best tools and our worst weapons. They matter. And it matters that we teach our babies how to use them properly. I don't care if you are a helicopter, tiger, attachment, or Ferber parent. But by God, I do care if you can't or won't step up to correct your kid when they do something wrong. When kids test these limits, we must teach them the boundaries. We belong to each other. It is our responsibility to give as much love to each other as possible. Love does not mean being a push over. Love does not mean being weak. Love means respect. Our children must learn this from us.
To pick a favorite song, much less a favorite artist/band is impossible. So much depends on so much (said the most vague utterance ever). One group that I've stood by for a decade-plus, though, is Guster. They always make me smile and jam out. In fact, I've written about them before. And before, so if you've been reading along with me for a while, this isn't news. But lately it seems that my children have taken one particular Guster lyric to heart and are currently living it out loud as best they can.
While I have many favorite Guster songs, "Manifest Destiny" is one of my Most Favorite Faves. Thanks to the beauty of the interwebs, you can listen/see it here (please read the next sentence before you click on this, though, esp. if in the presence of wee ones!). Much as I love "MD" so, I hardly ever play it in front of my kids because of the random (and against their norm) f-bomb in the opening lines. I fully own and accept my own potty mouth but I also do my darndest (by using words like darndest) to watch my language in front of my kids. As it happened a few months ago, though, we were all cruising down the road together, and HD picked Guster to listen to next, so I popped in the Ganging Up on the Sun album and we just let it play. Ben knows me and my music well enough to know what words begin "MD", so as it started, I saw him giving me Uhhh?WhatAreWeGonnaDo? eyebrows from the driver's seat. The music was loud and the kids were jamming out, though, so we did what any quick thinking don't-want-the-babies-swearing-just-yet parents would do - we started coughing loudly over the f-bomb which surprised and delighted our kids to no end. I think they must have requested we start No.3 over four or five times in a row that day and they laughed hysterically every time we carried out our clever cough cover-up.
Apparently we should have kept coughing because to this day they want to hear "MD" all the time and it turns out that the potential profanity was the least of our problems. The lines that come shortly after it and that are repeated throughout the song numerous times and are therefore causing us all kinds of problems are as follows: "Do you want to change your mind? You can alwaaaaaaaays change your mind." Seriously. You should never ever tell a child that this is OK (even though it totally is).
As parents we deal with about a million and two questions/answers/decisions every day. I'm going to throw out another Seriously here because holy mother of wow are there so many Things to decide every day in life with Littles. And lately it seems that our answers and decisions are all up for discussion or flat-out defiance as HD and RL are walking, talking, occasional-tantrum-throwing examples of alwaaaaaaaaays changing their minds.
Perhaps you remember my post about Jekyll and Hyde Miss Raegan? Well she's still at it at all hours of the day. She wants her hair in her face. She wants it up. She does NOT want it up. She wants it up in three ponies. She wants it taken out. She wants the pink pony holder. She wants me to have it. And that is all in the span of three minutes with moods as up and down as her hairstyle. It is darn near impossible to keep up with her activity level much less the attitude.
Harrison is no different when it comes to decisions although thankfully his four-and-a-half-ness makes him slightly less volatile in emotional reactions. But man, the wishy-washies are getting me. It doesn't matter if we are talking about what to have for snack, what to wear, or what game to play, he is going to change his mind. And then change it back. The trickiest example keeps happening on weekends when he has the option to either go somewhere with Ben and Raegan or stay home with me while Lincoln naps. Of course he wants to go. He is a curious and active kid, so why wouldn't he want to go? But lately he keeps saying that he wants to stay home with me. While I'd like the quiet of nap time to myself some mornings, I feel bad telling him no so often I say, "OK; stay home." But then, as soon as Dad and RL are out the door, he starts saying that he really wants to go with them. Usually we can catch them in time and he can tag along, but sometimes we don't and then, well, then the emotions can be quite volatile. So why the yes/no/yes if really it is yes the whole time?!?!
At least the question of "what song would be playing on the soundtrack of my life right now?" (am I the only person who plays this game?) is an easy answer.
Well, Hellooooo, May! The Welschies are so happy you have arrived as it means long days of sunshine and playing outdoors will be upon us very soon. In fact, you have already graced us with some gorgeous days and happy trees, tulips, and tiny plants in our garden, so thank you for that. Of course May in Nebraska also means the end of the school year (and boy, do I feel sorry for all those who go into June!). I have just one more night of teaching for the semester (WhooHoo!) and Ben and Harrison have just a couple-ish weeks left. This month marks the end of a preschool era for HD, though, as his teacher/classroom will change for the first time when he goes to five day preK next fall, so we are approaching the close of this school year with a little bit of bittersweet anticipation as well as a whole lotta thankfulness. We are so excited for the growth and good things to come, while also so, so grateful for everything his two teachers have done for him in the last two years that he's been with them.
I didn't realize what a youngin' HD was when we first sent him (shortly after he turned three), but when I look at how much he has grown (physically and mentally) and learned in that time, I am floored. Preschool has been an amazing opportunity for him and I know that the quality and care of his teachers (not to mention everyone at the Y) has been essential to making it so awesome. This is why we want to mark the end of this year with a little bit of gratitude, and since it happens to be Teacher Appreciation Week (or at least the Great Google tells me so, so I'm going with it), HD will be taking these little gifts to Miss A. and Miss N. tomorrow morning:
Both teachers have been so sweet every time he brings them a gift, hand writing a personalized Thank You note to him, that we decided replenishing their Thank You supply might make for a good gift. It also helps that I know how much HD enjoys getting these notes from them (you would not even believe me if I told you how many times I've had to read them to him!), so I knew he'd be on board with the idea. He got to pick the two colors of cards for each teacher and signed his name on the card where I wrote a message to each teacher.
While he may not have the whole spatial thing down yet to get his whole name (darn eight letters long!) in the space left for him, he at least has some good problem solving skills. ;)
As both parents and educators, Ben and I are deeply invested in the role of school for our kids. We are so thrilled and thankful that Harrison's first experiences have been so positive. For us this is not just a week of the calendar to check off or an obligatory gift; it really is all about appreciation and recognition for all the hard work HD's teachers have done for our son.
Much Love to all teachers, past, present, and yet-to-be, this week!
There were moments today, many moments, that had me questioning my sanity, the sanity of my children, and the phase of the moon. Many, many moments. But there was also a whole lotta awesome that happened this morning which is what I'm focusing on in this post.
Today was Family/Fun Swim at HD's preschool. They do this at the end of each year but last year I was sick (damn April) and couldn't go. I would say "Somehow, my sweet boy with the memory of an elephant" remembers that, but there's no "somehow" about it. The sweet boy has the memory of an elephant, so of course he remembers that I missed last year. Since the end of March, when we got the April calendar and he saw when Family/Fun Swim was scheduled, he's been asking me, "Mama? Can you go swimming with me? Will you not be sick this time?" Note: Ben went in my place last year so it's not like we deprived the kid of Family or Fun, but apparently this is just one of those things where he wanted me. Truth? I am not complaining about being wanted!
As you may remember, swim lessons have caused Harrison some anxiety in the past. Last fall we came up with a solution for his nerves: I painted his toes so he could have a visual reminder of us when he was at school and worried about being in the pool. All he had to do was look down and poof! Instant reminder of Mama and how brave I think he is. The coolest part? It totally worked. The very first time we sent him to school with painted toes, he told me on the way home that he was so brave at swimming lessons and that he had fun. It is amazing how much good a little bottle of cheap polish can do!
On and off throughout the year, I have continued to paint his toes the weeks of swim lessons. Not every time, but most. He likes his two favorite colors, red and blue, but I also got him some "piggy" green that we debuted last month. It's been a while since we last did a new coat, though, so yesterday I asked him, "Hey, Buddy. Do you want me to paint your toes for swimming tomorrow?" I was surprised to hear him say, "No, thanks." But even better? When I asked him why not, he smiled and said, "Because you're going swimming with me."
Well. Melt. My. Heart. How freaking sweet is that?!
And really? He totally meant it. He was so excited to see me in the hall when his class headed for the pool this morning and once we got in our waiting spot beside the water to listen to his teacher's instructions, he didn't let go of me for one second. He was either holding my hand or climbing in my lap or leaning on my shoulder the entire time. As I said, it was a whole lotta awesome and I am so glad I could be there to have that experience with him. And even though he was, in Harrison terms, fairly timid in the water still, he said swimming was the best part of his day today when we played Happy/Sad after dinner. I know the days of having Mom around being Super Cool are numbered, so how super cool that we both got to enjoy this one (or at least moments of it) so very much.
Oy, me. (Um, I sense a trend here of starting my posts with *sigh* sounds. I blame April.) Why must the excitement of one day lead to the fallout of the next?
Yesterday was HD's Easter Celebration at preK which included an egg hunt and a visit from the Easter Bunny. And, duh, goodies in plastic eggs. Each kid was asked to bring enough eggs for the class and then they hide those and somehow the teachers work their magic so everyone comes home with the same number of eggs. It doesn't matter what you put in them and I have seen anything from band-aids (we totally copied that for his Valentines this year) to bouncy balls to balloons (Smart! and so copying that one next year) to the standard chocolate or jelly beans. Harrison got to pick his egg stuffer this year and went for Hershey's chocolate eggs - a boy after his mama's heart, I guess. Plenty of other kiddos must be after my heart, too, because his basket came home loaded with sugar yesterday.
I've taken different approaches to The World of Sugar with my kids, but for the most part my philosophy for food is all things in moderation. We don't exclude much but we don't go overboard with much either (except all things bread and dough - again, HD is just like his mama when it comes to this). Yesterday, though, I decided to get the Sugar Coma over in one big rush. Because he's awesome, Harrison shared his goodies with his sister and with me and we opened every single egg; we ate all but two (there are only 15 kids in his class, so please don't think I let my kids eat 50 lbs. of sweets in one sitting). And actually? The kids weren't too bad after that. We had to listen to the Animal Actions songs about 100x so they could dance and run it all off, but I figured that was a small price to pay for not prolonging the whining for candy. I was, of course, wrong.
Why must there be a fallout? It's the same when we go on a trip or they go to spend a few days with the grandparents - the return home and re-acclimation is always rough. And apparently going to town on Easter candy is no exception. This morning wasn't pretty. No one finished even one bowl of cereal (HD usually has two or three and RL can have as many as five or six on any given day) and HD spent most of breakfast crying because he wanted the last two remaining eggs but I wouldn't let him have them unless he finished his cereal. And I mean, crying (and wailing and tears) the. whole. meal. And of course RL chimed in with, "Me want sucker! Me want suckerrrrrrrrr!" and her own little whiny tears. For the love of Pete, children. How many times do I have to tell them whining does not help their case?
Apparently forever times because they just kept going to the point that HD had to take a break in the action to go calm down by himself. Even though it was a bit of A Morning, I had to smile when RL followed him to his time out spot where he asked her, through sobs, "Raegan! How am I ever going to calm down?!?!" and she started singing Daniel Tiger's line "take a deep breath, and count to four!" to him. At least PBS and their yoga-lovin' mama are teaching them something, eh?
Of course I'm sure you've realized the real lesson learned here, right? Eat ALL the flippin' eggs the first time.
So I'm sure some of you are wondering about a sleep update (you kind, kind souls), but that's not the intent behind this post. I'm sick of thinking and talking and writing about sleep, so for now, I'm tabling it and trying to focus on other things. The good things (that alone is enough of an update, hmm?). The three little things full of love who make the sleepless nights and foggy days bearable (and challenging, too, of course). So today I'm starting with Harrison, my four-and-a-half ball of rough and tumble energy and so much love.
Of course it is not news to tell you that my kids are active. You already know this. Lately, HD's active little self has turned into a pinball of sorts, randomly bouncing off of people and furniture and walls and you name it. He just spins and ricochets, repeat, repeat, repeat. Now this might not seem like a love story, but it bears mentioning because it was a habit that was quickly starting to drive me bonkers and we had to find a way to redirect it for good. I didn't like being a buffer in his pinball machine, and yet I seemed to be a favorite target, so I started thinking about what was really driving this behavior. Call me crazy, but my best guess was that he was looking for attention. And affection. And why not? I'm busy nursing and feeding and potty training and napping and all the other Things that happen every single day, all day long, for the other kids, so it makes sense that my little preKer started to feel left out. So he started spinning and ricocheting, repeat, repeat, repeat. I may be sleep deprived, but even I know that if he's literally bouncing off the walls to get my attention and my affection, the least I can do is respond with some extra love. Rather than scold for bumping or pushing him away, I decided to meet him head on when he began bouncing, calling out the phrase, "Bumper Cars!" and sweeping him into a great big squeeze.
He loves it. Absolutely loves it. Now, he'll start spinning and call out, "Bumper Cars!" with this high note trailing off the final syllable, almost like saying, "Come and get me!" in a happy, sing-song voice. While he doesn't always have the best timing (my hands are usually full or I'm busy doing some task, typically in the kitchen), I'm trying to meet this need for him so he doesn't take the spinning and bouncing too far. Usually, if I can acknowledge it sooner than later, he moves on to other things. And lately, a lot of those things (when they aren't playing with his Angry Birds figurines) are adding up to be a true love fest.
Harrison is doing such a great job lately of caring for and about his brother and sister. Not that sibling rivalry has ever been an issue, but I love watching him love them. It's hugs and kisses and then more hugs and kisses before leaving for school in the morning. It's telling Lincoln that it's OK when LT is crying, or helping me grab a burp rag or a toy when I need an assist. It's encouraging Raegan when they are playing or when she's trying to copy him (which happens all. the. time!). And while it feels like I put out a hundred fires a day over who gets this toy or who gets to pick the show to watch, etc., etc., ad nauseam, seeing and feeling the love between them always wins.
I'm also touched by the love HD shows me on a constant basis. Maybe there is some truth to the phrase "Love rolls downhill" because I try to tell him as many times as I can that I love him no matter what (even when I am totally pissed about spilled milk - or as was the case Wednesday, spilled baby oatmeal made with breast milk that happened in the thirty seconds I was away from the table getting yogurt for Little Sis, but I digress) and clearly the message is getting through. When I squeeze him and say, "I am so glad you're my Harrison" he squeezes back and says, "I'm so glad you're my mama." When he comes in to see me in bed in the morning, he puts an arm around my shoulders or my neck and leans in to kiss the top of my head or my back or whatever he can reach, just like I do when I give him quick little love. He even makes the "Mmmmmwah!" squeeze sound when he does this, which is an added bonus of cute and sweet. But my favorite part of the love fest is that he has started bringing me his beloved Cow in the mornings. That animal is his first and forever favorite and so I feel most honored that he is willing to share it and I gladly cuddle up with Cow tucked under my chin, just like HD does every night.
And even though I am shot and exhausted and all round spent most days, all of these little moments add up and make up for the messes and the whining and all the other less-than-rosy moments of living with a Four (and a Two and a Less than One). And, pardon me while I get even mushier, but I can see in the moments when I look at Harrison and think, You're so big! When did you get so big?! that he'll be 14 before I know it and sharing Cow and kisses on top of my head will probably be long gone. And yet I hope the love fest will continue in some form, which, if that love just keeps on rolling down the hill, perhaps it will. And that's my plan - to just keep on telling him how happy he makes my heart. Love you, Buddy!
