From there to here, from here to there, Funny things are everywhere
Filched from Toddled Dredge, deep in my unexamined Bloglines account:
|
You Are a Comma |
 You are open minded and extremely optimistic. You enjoy almost all facets of life. You can find the good in almost anything. You keep yourself busy with tons of friends, activities, and interests. Your friends find you fascinating, charming, and easy to talk to. You excel in: Inspiring people You get along best with: The Question Mark |
It started with a note in Tristan’s communication folder, the yellow laminated folder we send back and forth to school each day containing notes from me to his teachers in one direction and notes from the school, art projects, and homework in the other direction.
“Tristan, did you draw all these hearts?” I asked, admiring the page covered with a rainbow of carefully coloured hearts.
“No,” answered Tristan, barely looking up from his Lego.
I was about to conclude that the teacher accidentally put someone else’s artwork into Tristan’s folder when he continued, “(A girl in my class) drew that for me.”
“Ohhhh,” I said, biting back a grin. “And why did she do that?”
“I dunno,” he said, with distracted annoyance at my interruption of his Lego creativity. “She just did. She and the other girls are always bugging me. They keep asking me who I’m going to marry.”
On the days I drop Tristan off at school, I’ve noticed one little girl in particular goes out of her way to stand near Tristan. She doesn’t actually speak to him or look at him or otherwise acknowledge his presence, except that every time Tristan moves she quietly rearranges herself to be next to him again. Tristan is, of course, completely oblivious to her proximity and perhaps her existence. Men!
It’s been fun watching Tristan’s awareness of and tolerance of the girls evolving over the school year. At first, we heard about how the girls pester Tristan and his buddy to play house with them. While he seemed perplexed and annoyed by their attention at the beginning, as heart-covered notes have become more common the girls have been getting almost daily mention in the recounting of Tristan’s daily activities. He shared his crazy carpet with one for an afternoon of sledding, and was chosen by another to be her special helper when it was her turn to bring the attendance sheets to the office. And then, when we made up a list of classmates to invite to his birthday party last month, the girls actually outnumbered the boys invited by three to two. (Unfortunately, due to the record-breaking snow dump that weekend, only one of the five could attend — and it was one of the girls.)
The sweetest thing has been Tristan’s contribution to the flow of love-notes. When I asked him to make a thank-you card for the birthday gift he received from his classmate, I melted when he drew a picture of himself hugging the gift-giver on the outside and wrote (with no help from me) “I love you” on the inside. Then he made a similar card for two other girls in his class and insisted I send those to school for their communication folders, too. Six years old and already a player. That’s my boy!
The next day he made up two more cards, complete with drawn hugs and “I love you” inscriptions, and insisted I send them to school for his to best male friends. At least he isn’t shy with his affection!
First, there were hockey moms, and then soccer moms. Some time in 2005, the term “helicopter parents” was coined to describe those parents that hover over their children. And now, a new favourite of mine, “curling parents” — those who sweep the ice in front of their children.
I only have a couple of seconds to post today, but I wanted to say something about this interesting Ottawa Citizen article about an interview with parenting writer Carl Honoré, author of In Praise of Slow, where I saw the “curling parents” phrase.
As I read the transcript Susan Allan’s interview, I found myself nodding along with Honoré’s ideas. He calls milestones “millstones” and advocates a return to a more laid back approach to raising children. He speaks out against the way we take it upon ourselves to make our children excel at any cost:
It’s amazing how many of the tools of hyperparenting people still believe in though it’s patently untrue and has been shown to be so. The pressure to do things in a mechanistic, measurable way takes away the joy of it. At the end of the day, this should be about joy. There’s nothing more joyous than having a child.
And this… I loved this one:
We need to give kids the space and time for their brains to develop rather than turning them into achievement automatons on a treadmill ticking one box after an another whether it’s academic or athletic or artistic. Children are not projects, they’re people.
He’s speaking tonight as part of the Ottawa International Writers Festival, and it’s free. It’s been ages since I’ve been out to a literary event, and I’m going to try to make it out to see him speak. I figure the audience will be skewed to the parenting crowd, so I can drag Lucas along with me.
What do you think? Is there hope for lazy parents like me? Is it possible for us to turn off the treadmill and make laid-back parenting the new trend?
It’s on days like these that I truly love my one-year sabbatical in SAHM-land. I started the day with a coffee date with Andrea, who gets sweeter every time we meet. She took the most gorgeous photos of Lucas… I stole this one, but you should pop on over to her site to take a look at the rest, and I’ll wait for you to get back.
See? Great photos! And great conversation, too! Reminded me that I really have to get out to see my bloggy friends in person more often.
Then, I headed over to Milkface to see what y’all were on about — and you were right! What a great little store. There were three other moms there trying on slings when we arrived, so I got the chance to eavesdrop on the best sling recommendations for a 5 lbs week old baby (!!) and an 8 month old wiggler, and watched one mom wriggle her baby into a sling worn like a backpack.
And I brought home this Maya wrap to try out. It’s like the bright colours were calling out to me!
Lucas had been fussy in his baby-bucket car seat carrier, but as soon as I slipped him into the sling in the store he settled right in. He tolerated it for 30 minutes or so last night while I unpacked groceries and puttered around the kitchen, too, which is about 28 minutes more success than we’ve had with the Baby Bjorn. So far, two thumbs up for the Maya sling!
And thanks to another darling friend, I have also been loaned one of these fancy-ass swings for as long as Lucas will fit into it:
With blue skies and warm temperatures forecasted for the whole week, I feel like Lucas and I are getting a fresh start and ready to take on the world! Or at least the laundry. Hey, ya gotta start somewhere.
I vividly remember the first time I took then two-week old Tristan out of the house by myself. It was the day my mother left after a week’s visit, and I was weepy with her departure and Beloved’s return to work and unsure how I’d manage to take care of the baby all by myself. I put him in the stroller and walked, with Katie the dog, around the block. It seemed a momentous achievement. The next day, we walked all the way to the grocery store across the park. My confidence grew and I became comfortable with all manner of expeditions — until the next child arrived.
When Simon was born, he was almost a month old before I ventured out with both boys by myself. We went to WalMart, and I can still recall the barely-repressed panic I felt. What if Tristan (then 22 months old) bolted? What if Simon howled? I had toured Europe by myself for four weeks in 1995, and that trip to WalMart was the far more daunting expedition.
Already, I don’t really remember the first time I took out all three boys by myself. It was likely the grocery store, too. And we love to walk around the block together. We all had dinner at Dairy Queen about a month ago while Beloved was working late — I thought that was pretty brave of me, and we did fine. And yesterday, we left Beloved at home to catch up with some work while I took the boys out for a perfect rainy-Saturday adventure exploring the wild creatures at Little Ray’s Reptile Zoo.
I have to admit, I had backup. It was my friend Yvonne who came up with the idea for a trip to Little Ray’s, and since she is also the mother of three boys aged four to ten, she’s quite familiar with all things reptilian. About every three minutes, you could see one of us doing a mental head-count — one, two, three, four, five, and where is child number six? Oh yeah, in the stroller having a snooze. Talk to me again when Lucas gets mobile and see how confident I am to venture out in public!
Anyway, if you are looking for something a little out of the ordinary to do on a rainy day in Ottawa, I can’t say enough nice things about Little Ray’s Reptile Zoo. There are plenty of creatures in cages, terrariums and aquariums — most of whom I was quite happy to see behind glass. Tarantulas, scorpions, lizards and geckos and other little creepy-crawleys. But they also have some really impressive large animals, like the tank with two eight-foot alligators. Yowza!
They have a couple of mammals (possums and skunks) and some gorgeous birds like this parrot
What’s really cool, though, is the fact that every 20 minutes or so, they have an interactive show of some kind. Here the boys had a chance to pet an albino something-or-other snake.
Simon and I passed on the tarantula, but Tristan was fascinated!
Speaking of fascinating, it was weirdly chilling but very cool to watch this constrictor (not the same one we were petting above) make a tasty lunch out of a dead rat.
The boys got a kick out of feeding kale to these three tortoises.
And of course, the evidence that a good afternoon was had by all! (Look closely, you can even see Lucas napping in the baby mirror!)
The patter of the “wildlife educators” is priceless and alone worth the price of admission. I could write a whole post full of the fun and trivial stuff I learned, so we’ll definitely be going back for another visit, or maybe enrolling the boys in one of Little Ray’s day camps this summer. Of course, I should have seen this one coming: ever since our visit Tristan has been campaigning hard for a snake as a pet. However, since Beloved shares Indiana Jones’s sentiment on the subject, we won’t be getting one any time soon. I’d let him have a snake before I let him have a tarantula or a scorpion. Maybe just not one quite this big!
I wish I could remember what kind of constrictor this one was. Lookit the size of him — he’s easily thicker around the middle than my thigh, and that says a lot these days!! (As I was framing this photo, I couldn’t get that old line from Seinfeld out of my head: “The dingo constrictor ate your baby!”)
In your comments on the post about how Lucas doesn’t like to be put down, a few of you mentioned how slings saved your life. I have a second-hand Baby Bjorn carrier that I used on and off for Simon, but Lucas doesn’t seem to like it. Mind you, we’ve only tried it two or three times, but he doesn’t seem to appreciate his face being smushed into my chest and I’m not sure how old they have to be before you can switch them to forward-facing. It’s a great way to get the vacuuming done, but he doesn’t tolerate it for much else.
I also have a home-made hammock type swing I made for Simon, but I think the fit is a little off and while I used it a couple of times, I actually found Simon liked the Baby Bjorn better.
So did you find the sling much better than the baby carrier? Is it worth spending the $$$ on one of the fancy ones?
Help, getting desperate!
Remember back when I made the switch from my blogger.com domain to my own domain, and I was heartbroken that I couldn’t find a way to import all the old haloscan comments?
Thanks to a 90 minute nap in my lap on the part of Lucas and the easy-peasey instructions and scripts from this guy (rockstar, first class) I managed to import all 10,000 of the old comments!! (Well, almost. One file had an error in it, but I’m hoping to get that ironed out soon. And 9000 out of 10000 comments retrieved is still pretty darn good.)
YAY!!!!!!
Lucas at two months: 11 lbs 10 oz, almost 25 inches long. (Still gaining! Yay!!) Sleeps like a dream during the night, and insists on being cuddled during the day. Gazes at mommy with a look of adoration that would melt steel. Smiles at everything except mommy’s camera. Saves his best smiles for his big brothers. Fiercely opposed to mommy’s blog habit. Good thing he’s so damn cute!
(this photo is was actually taken almost a month ago… he’s changed already!)
Why is it that this gorgeous baby of mine will sleep (touch wood) like a dream in his cradle at night, but will not under any circumstances sleep anywhere except in my arms during the day? And why does he so resent my attention to the one pokey finger with which I’m trying to blog while the rest of me devotes itself to being a human cradle? So much to say, and no way to get it out there!
I miss you all… regular posting and reading and commenting will resume shortly.
I’m feeding Lucas and Tristan is in the kitchen colouring, out of sight but not earshot around the corner. Simon is engaged in some sort of imaginary play that involves a lot of talking. I can hear him stumbling over an idea.
Simon: Mommy!
Me: Yes, Simon?
Simon: What’s my second name?
Me: Francis.
Simon: No, my other second name.
I tell him his hyphenated surname. The boys get the order of their names confused, and Tristan will often say his first name, his surname and then his middle name.
Simon, obviously frustrated: No, no, my other name.
I’m still puzzling this one out when Tristan calls from the kitchen. “You mean numbskull?”
Simon, pleased: Yeah, numbskull. Thanks, Tristan!
And off he goes to play.
I swear, it wasn’t me. I have no idea where he got this one from (looks pointedly at Beloved) but I can honestly say this one wasn’t my doing…