Actually has made a come back. He's speech is pepper with it. We really hadn't heard actually since last summer, when he first used it.
***
"I'm busy," Ivan announced, as he was sitting in the chair, doing nothing.
***
"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to myself." This is the latest variation on the " I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to dadda."
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
Ivan calls Andy daddy
"Now I call you Dadddy," Ivan told Andy.
"Last time, I was a baby I used to call you Andy. Allen calls you Dadda. I call you Daddy."
I don't know what prompted this conversation, but Ivan had been calling Andy "Andy" for months. At first it was really cute and funny. But since he never called him daddy or dadda, Andy was beginning to get upset and had started not responding to "Andy" and had started asking Ivan to call him Dadda.
"Last time, I was a baby I used to call you Andy. Allen calls you Dadda. I call you Daddy."
I don't know what prompted this conversation, but Ivan had been calling Andy "Andy" for months. At first it was really cute and funny. But since he never called him daddy or dadda, Andy was beginning to get upset and had started not responding to "Andy" and had started asking Ivan to call him Dadda.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Ivan talk, emerging concept of past and present
As of last month, everything has become about poop and everything is poopy, along with lots of giggles.
He's still continues to friend and unfriend people, a trend that started last summer.
He's also becoming aware of the concept of time and that there is a past, his past, but really doesn't know what that means.
So he starts sentences and stories, with "Remember, next time I was a baby..," and then he makes up a story about something when he was a baby that has absolutely no basis in reality.
Remember, next time I was a baby...
....and then he makes up a story
Sent from my iPhone
He's still continues to friend and unfriend people, a trend that started last summer.
He's also becoming aware of the concept of time and that there is a past, his past, but really doesn't know what that means.
So he starts sentences and stories, with "Remember, next time I was a baby..," and then he makes up a story about something when he was a baby that has absolutely no basis in reality.
Remember, next time I was a baby...
....and then he makes up a story
Sent from my iPhone
Friday, November 26, 2010
Ivan's vocabulary: but bessert
Ivan's vocabulary:
Bessert for desert
Hotsible for hospital
Teef for teeth
Firteen and eleventeen are two numbers that roughly come after ten
"I'm not going to say it again. You're not listening," he has started telling us when he thinks we're not listening. It's a phrase Andy tells him, when he's not listening to us. Three year-old are rather refined selective hearing abilities.
Sent from my iPhone
Bessert for desert
Hotsible for hospital
Teef for teeth
Firteen and eleventeen are two numbers that roughly come after ten
"I'm not going to say it again. You're not listening," he has started telling us when he thinks we're not listening. It's a phrase Andy tells him, when he's not listening to us. Three year-old are rather refined selective hearing abilities.
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Allen's stats
We took Allen for a doctor's check up. The doctor's a bit concerned because Allen dropped in weight between his 6 and 9month appointments from the 50th percentile to basically so low that he's off the chart.
As a result, we've been going back for monthly check ups. Yesterday we went for the 11-month check up. His height is almost at 50th percentile, but his weight is at 2 percent. So his weight isn't keeping up with his height.
The doctor wanted to know what we're feeding him. We are feeding him, and he's still exclusively nursing, but if he doesn't want to eat, he turns his head away and there is no way to force him to eat. We need to feed him as many fatty things as possible. I joke he should be on the "French" diet--eating butter (yuck), cheese, etc.
Should I freak out about his weight. I'm trying not to, but it's hard not to be concerned.
He doesn't look skinny although he's definitely nowhere as bursting-at-the-seams-plump as Ivan was.
All grandparemts tell me to chill. He's such an active baby, they say. He's like quicksilver, he can't sit still, my dad says.
He's practically been walking with the aid of the red chair or the push toy for the last two months.
He's gotten four teeth over the last two months; one already looks chippped .
He's also a very happy and engaging baby. He constantly sings and babbles--non stop. It's also funny because he gets very angry, when something doesn't go his way. If we pick him up, he screams and kicks his legs. We try not to laugh, although it's really funny.
On a very positive note, he's sleeping much better than when he was a newborn--unlike before when it was hard to put him to bed and I had to crawl out of his room careful not to make the floorboards creaks so he doesn't wake up, now I nurse him, take him to the crib, put him down, he rolls over, plays with Glowworm and goes to sleep.
And on an even better note, his eye with the closed tear duct cleared up between 9 and 10 months. I thing it was a cold: he was so stuffed up that the snot broke through. I don't know whether this is a medically plausible explanation, but it makes sense to me. Of course, right before that we took him to an eye doctor, who said that unless the tear duct opens on his own by the first birthday that the odds are it probably wouldn't. The only way to fix it would've required a surgery, with the full anesthesia and all. It scared Andy and I to think that such a small baby would have to be put under anesthesia for something that's not life threating. I'm glad we no longer need to think about that.
As a result, we've been going back for monthly check ups. Yesterday we went for the 11-month check up. His height is almost at 50th percentile, but his weight is at 2 percent. So his weight isn't keeping up with his height.
The doctor wanted to know what we're feeding him. We are feeding him, and he's still exclusively nursing, but if he doesn't want to eat, he turns his head away and there is no way to force him to eat. We need to feed him as many fatty things as possible. I joke he should be on the "French" diet--eating butter (yuck), cheese, etc.
Should I freak out about his weight. I'm trying not to, but it's hard not to be concerned.
He doesn't look skinny although he's definitely nowhere as bursting-at-the-seams-plump as Ivan was.
All grandparemts tell me to chill. He's such an active baby, they say. He's like quicksilver, he can't sit still, my dad says.
He's practically been walking with the aid of the red chair or the push toy for the last two months.
He's gotten four teeth over the last two months; one already looks chippped .
He's also a very happy and engaging baby. He constantly sings and babbles--non stop. It's also funny because he gets very angry, when something doesn't go his way. If we pick him up, he screams and kicks his legs. We try not to laugh, although it's really funny.
On a very positive note, he's sleeping much better than when he was a newborn--unlike before when it was hard to put him to bed and I had to crawl out of his room careful not to make the floorboards creaks so he doesn't wake up, now I nurse him, take him to the crib, put him down, he rolls over, plays with Glowworm and goes to sleep.
And on an even better note, his eye with the closed tear duct cleared up between 9 and 10 months. I thing it was a cold: he was so stuffed up that the snot broke through. I don't know whether this is a medically plausible explanation, but it makes sense to me. Of course, right before that we took him to an eye doctor, who said that unless the tear duct opens on his own by the first birthday that the odds are it probably wouldn't. The only way to fix it would've required a surgery, with the full anesthesia and all. It scared Andy and I to think that such a small baby would have to be put under anesthesia for something that's not life threating. I'm glad we no longer need to think about that.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Ivan:Allen's a big boy
"When it will be Allen's turn to be a big boy, I'll hold onto his back," Ivan said today, when he was talking about skiing and him holding Allen on his back so he wouldn't fall down.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Allen starts sleeping
I must note that Allen has finally started to slleep better. Sleeps longer, doesn't seem to wake up at the lightest toussle and has an easier time falling asleep.
Andy and I used to joke that a fly landing on his window is loud enough to wake him up.
Andy and I used to joke that a fly landing on his window is loud enough to wake him up.
Ivan goes without Medic
Although Medic has been going to preschool every day--and God forbid we forget him in the morning--Ivan doesn't want to sleep with Medic at night. He's been doing this for the last week or so. I also realized that he's stopped sleeping with his blanket in the last few months, as well. I guess he's slowly growing up and no longer needs these comfort props. It saddens me a bit.
However, since for preschool he has to have a sheet and a blanked, he chose to take that other baby blue blanket with animals on it, not the one he took to daycare (the one with the football.) I gave him a choice between the two.
However, since for preschool he has to have a sheet and a blanked, he chose to take that other baby blue blanket with animals on it, not the one he took to daycare (the one with the football.) I gave him a choice between the two.
Ivan's bunnies
"I can't use my outdoor voice inside because I'll wake up all my animals that live under the carpet," Ivan told me today.
"What animals?"
"I have little bunnies," he pointed with one hand and big bunnies he pointed with the other hand.
I was surprised that he still thinks about animals who live under the carpet. While he talked about them extensively in the spring, he hasn't mentioned them in the last few months. I didn't realize they're still part of his imaginary animal kingdom. He often surprises me with things he says and events he remembers from many months ago. His self-awareness and memory are much deeper than we think it is.
Sent from my iPhone
"What animals?"
"I have little bunnies," he pointed with one hand and big bunnies he pointed with the other hand.
I was surprised that he still thinks about animals who live under the carpet. While he talked about them extensively in the spring, he hasn't mentioned them in the last few months. I didn't realize they're still part of his imaginary animal kingdom. He often surprises me with things he says and events he remembers from many months ago. His self-awareness and memory are much deeper than we think it is.
Sent from my iPhone
'What you said, Andy?'
"What you said, Andy?" Ivan asked as Andy was trying to tell me something.
"Why you talked? I heard you . Why you talking?" Ivan asked.
"Why you talked? I heard you . Why you talking?" Ivan asked.
Monday, October 18, 2010
'Ayvanization' begins
I guess it was inevitable that Ivan was eventually going to realize that not all people will be pronouncing his name correctly--including Andy's family--but will be tempted to pronounce it "Ayvan" not Ivan.
He told me the other day that he's Ayvan, not Ivan, but we corrected him and told him his name was Ivan.
I didn't think about that when we named him Ivan. I wanted a Croatian name that was pronouncable in English. (And Ivan is as Croatian as it gets. If I were in Croatian, I probably would've not named him Ivan since everyone is named Ivan.) I didn't think about the fact that once he gets to school that it will inevitable that people will start calling him Ayvan. I'm just hoping that in this multi-ethnic, multi-lingual ares where we live it will be less of an issue than it would've been in a more homogenous part of the country.
Along the same lines, Medic has suddenly become his "little bear." I assume that's how teachers in preschool refer to him. Because they obviously wouldn't know that Medic's name is Medic!
Then when I ask him to tell words in Croatian, which I test him on every once in a while when we read books, he seems to know some but not all. Or at least can't remember them at that moment. Or is just pulling my leg, because I know he understands me 100 percent.
If I ask him "how do you say 'tree' in Croatian, and he doesn't respond, he'll stall.
"Treebranch," he'll say and crack up laughing because he knows that he didn't say it in Croatian.
It's a rather clever way to get around the answer, I must say, which always gets a giggle from me.
He told me the other day that he's Ayvan, not Ivan, but we corrected him and told him his name was Ivan.
I didn't think about that when we named him Ivan. I wanted a Croatian name that was pronouncable in English. (And Ivan is as Croatian as it gets. If I were in Croatian, I probably would've not named him Ivan since everyone is named Ivan.) I didn't think about the fact that once he gets to school that it will inevitable that people will start calling him Ayvan. I'm just hoping that in this multi-ethnic, multi-lingual ares where we live it will be less of an issue than it would've been in a more homogenous part of the country.
Along the same lines, Medic has suddenly become his "little bear." I assume that's how teachers in preschool refer to him. Because they obviously wouldn't know that Medic's name is Medic!
Then when I ask him to tell words in Croatian, which I test him on every once in a while when we read books, he seems to know some but not all. Or at least can't remember them at that moment. Or is just pulling my leg, because I know he understands me 100 percent.
If I ask him "how do you say 'tree' in Croatian, and he doesn't respond, he'll stall.
"Treebranch," he'll say and crack up laughing because he knows that he didn't say it in Croatian.
It's a rather clever way to get around the answer, I must say, which always gets a giggle from me.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Visions of rotten teeth averted
Ivan went to the dentist this morning. Andy took him because I just couldn't deal with it, after the initial visit six months ago. I was afraid it was going to be a fiasco like last time.
Instead, I prepped him. I've been prepping him for weeks. So did mom. I even got a few "going to the dentist books" of the library.
Andy said he did well. He allowed the dentist to do everything that he had to do. But this time, there was no technician and densist, just the dentist. Maybe that was the trick.
I was shocked. But most importantly, no cavities!
Sent from my iPhone
Instead, I prepped him. I've been prepping him for weeks. So did mom. I even got a few "going to the dentist books" of the library.
Andy said he did well. He allowed the dentist to do everything that he had to do. But this time, there was no technician and densist, just the dentist. Maybe that was the trick.
I was shocked. But most importantly, no cavities!
Sent from my iPhone
Monday, September 20, 2010
Alone in preschool
The successful playdate with Dylan has been really important to me, considering that Ivan doesn't seem to have made a friend at the preschool.
Last week, Ms. Person's said he's very busy running around and exploring everything there is to do--he apparently spends a lot of time at the art station, as his artwork proves--but that he plays on his own.
On Friday, when Andy went to pick up Ivan, he was in Ms. Fowler's arms, crying. (At least we know that they hold children when they're upset.) Apparently, Ivan wanted to sit on a bench next to some three boys. But there wasn't enough room for him to sit, or at least, that's what the boys said, so they wouldn't let him sit. He started crying. Ms. Fowler was trying to resolve the situation when Andy arrived.
Maybe I'm overexaggerating, but this friends issue is really upsetting me. At home, Ivan constantly says "all my friends" will come over. He said that while in daycare and he's repeated it now at preschool. But when I prod him who his friends are, or who he plays with, or who he'd like to come over to play--I had mentioned Dylan to him; the thought hadn't originated with him--he ignores me. He simply doesn't answer. It's like there's a disconnect between reality and his imagination, or at least his speech. And I'm not sure what to make of it sometimes.
I guess all we can do is help him make friends.
P.S. Actually, he did ask can Maya come over to play. He and Maya have a great time whenever they play. In general, he has a good time, when he's playing with another child, but if it's a group setting, then he balks a bit.
Last week, Ms. Person's said he's very busy running around and exploring everything there is to do--he apparently spends a lot of time at the art station, as his artwork proves--but that he plays on his own.
On Friday, when Andy went to pick up Ivan, he was in Ms. Fowler's arms, crying. (At least we know that they hold children when they're upset.) Apparently, Ivan wanted to sit on a bench next to some three boys. But there wasn't enough room for him to sit, or at least, that's what the boys said, so they wouldn't let him sit. He started crying. Ms. Fowler was trying to resolve the situation when Andy arrived.
Maybe I'm overexaggerating, but this friends issue is really upsetting me. At home, Ivan constantly says "all my friends" will come over. He said that while in daycare and he's repeated it now at preschool. But when I prod him who his friends are, or who he plays with, or who he'd like to come over to play--I had mentioned Dylan to him; the thought hadn't originated with him--he ignores me. He simply doesn't answer. It's like there's a disconnect between reality and his imagination, or at least his speech. And I'm not sure what to make of it sometimes.
I guess all we can do is help him make friends.
P.S. Actually, he did ask can Maya come over to play. He and Maya have a great time whenever they play. In general, he has a good time, when he's playing with another child, but if it's a group setting, then he balks a bit.
Allen stands up
For about two weeks, Allen's been trying to stand up.
Earlier this week he succeeded. On Wednesday, he lifted himself up on the bedrail in Ivan's bed.
And today, he truly mastered this new skill. He lifted himself up over and over again on the bedrail and on the coffee table. Then, as he was holding on to the coffee table, he tried flipping through a book.
But when I put him in the crib, instead of trying to lift himself up, he sat in it and started to cry. I guess that's the next milestone---figuring out that he can stand up in the crib as well.
Earlier this week he succeeded. On Wednesday, he lifted himself up on the bedrail in Ivan's bed.
And today, he truly mastered this new skill. He lifted himself up over and over again on the bedrail and on the coffee table. Then, as he was holding on to the coffee table, he tried flipping through a book.
But when I put him in the crib, instead of trying to lift himself up, he sat in it and started to cry. I guess that's the next milestone---figuring out that he can stand up in the crib as well.
Playdate with Dylan
On Saturday morning, Dylan came over for a playdate. Dylan is a boy from daycare. Finally, in the last few days of daycare I managed to pull it out of Ms. Norma and Ms. Rosa that Ivan plays with Dylan. I had to prod them, because they usually say that Ivan plays with everyone. That was probably the case, but I wanted to know whether he played with someone more than others. (Ms. Norma also eventually said that Ivan plays with Margaret. This didn't surprise me. Margaret and Ivan seemed to be the two socially-awkward peas in a pod. I always affectionately thought of them as the two little runts of the two, and then, the three year-old classroom. But I digress.)
Dylan's mom, Hillary, was excited that we invited them over. Apparently, she noticed as well that the two played together. Dylan has also been asking her where did Creighton, Emma and Ivan go. The answer: new schools. While it's tough for the kids making the transition into a new place, it must be even tougher and more confusing for those kids who stay behind.
The playdate was all I had dreamed of.
At first, I was apprehensive about it, considering the Sashi fiasco. I didn't want Ivan's feelings to get hurt. I was afraid that Ivan was going to pull out all the stops for Dylan, like he did for Sashi and that Dylan was not going to care. And Dylan's mom did warn me that Dylan had never been over to anyone's house other than a birthday party, so that he may be anxious.
Dylan was shy at first. For the first 15-20 minutes. And then they hit it off. They painted, played with trains, ate muffins that Ivan and I baked in the morning, somehow ended up in our bedroom to jump on our bed, played with trucks outside, went to the playground.....
I was overwhelmed with joy.
They were adorable, shouting and yelling, walking down the street and holding hands, then running across the field to the trail and playing on the playground.
They looked like the little two inseparable best friends, which was an experience I so desperately wanted for Ivan.
Dylan's mom was pleased as well. We'll plan another playdate soon.
P.S. I first noticed that it's probable that Ivan and Dylan get along at Sashi's birthday party, where they sat next to each other to eat cake. I watched them giggle, make faces and point to some bug on the window. "Bug, bug, gross," they yelled really loudly and laughed, alerting other kids to it.
Dylan's mom, Hillary, was excited that we invited them over. Apparently, she noticed as well that the two played together. Dylan has also been asking her where did Creighton, Emma and Ivan go. The answer: new schools. While it's tough for the kids making the transition into a new place, it must be even tougher and more confusing for those kids who stay behind.
The playdate was all I had dreamed of.
At first, I was apprehensive about it, considering the Sashi fiasco. I didn't want Ivan's feelings to get hurt. I was afraid that Ivan was going to pull out all the stops for Dylan, like he did for Sashi and that Dylan was not going to care. And Dylan's mom did warn me that Dylan had never been over to anyone's house other than a birthday party, so that he may be anxious.
Dylan was shy at first. For the first 15-20 minutes. And then they hit it off. They painted, played with trains, ate muffins that Ivan and I baked in the morning, somehow ended up in our bedroom to jump on our bed, played with trucks outside, went to the playground.....
I was overwhelmed with joy.
They were adorable, shouting and yelling, walking down the street and holding hands, then running across the field to the trail and playing on the playground.
They looked like the little two inseparable best friends, which was an experience I so desperately wanted for Ivan.
Dylan's mom was pleased as well. We'll plan another playdate soon.
P.S. I first noticed that it's probable that Ivan and Dylan get along at Sashi's birthday party, where they sat next to each other to eat cake. I watched them giggle, make faces and point to some bug on the window. "Bug, bug, gross," they yelled really loudly and laughed, alerting other kids to it.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Making friends
Ivan had a serious conversation with Andy over the weekend.
As they were walking through the park, with Mariposa in tow, Ivan asked about some people who were in the park. Andy said he didn’t know them. Ivan asked how do you go about meeting some body.
“Well, you have to go and introduce yourself. You say ‘Hi, I’m Ivan. What’s your name?’” Andy replied.
Ivan was really interested and intently listening, Andy said. Being an introverted child who’s just started a new preschool where he doesn’t know anyone, Ivan seems to be really attuned to this issue of how does one make friends and get to know people. We’ve both noticed this. Maybe children who are more extroverted just go and play with kids they don’t know, like Bella(s) or Seger, for example, while the more introverted ones reflect on this before they go and play. Who knows? This is one of those instances when I ask Ivan a straight question, I never get an answer. But this is definitely on his mind.
Tonight, when we talked about going to preschool tomorrow, Ivan said he would take a toy with him—at the beginning of the week at daycare, they’d take something for show-and-tell, a practice they don’t have at preschool, so maybe he was referring to that.
A little car with wheels, “so everyone will play with me, all boys and girls,” he said as he rolled over to sleep.
And earlier today, while Ivan and Andy were hanging out on the porch, our new neighbors across the street, whom we haven’t met yet, pulled up to the house. The young California blond got out of her red jeep. Ivan asked Andy if he knew her. Andy said no.
“Hey, what’s your name,” Ivan yelled out, trying to put Andy’s lesson into action.
As they were walking through the park, with Mariposa in tow, Ivan asked about some people who were in the park. Andy said he didn’t know them. Ivan asked how do you go about meeting some body.
“Well, you have to go and introduce yourself. You say ‘Hi, I’m Ivan. What’s your name?’” Andy replied.
Ivan was really interested and intently listening, Andy said. Being an introverted child who’s just started a new preschool where he doesn’t know anyone, Ivan seems to be really attuned to this issue of how does one make friends and get to know people. We’ve both noticed this. Maybe children who are more extroverted just go and play with kids they don’t know, like Bella(s) or Seger, for example, while the more introverted ones reflect on this before they go and play. Who knows? This is one of those instances when I ask Ivan a straight question, I never get an answer. But this is definitely on his mind.
Tonight, when we talked about going to preschool tomorrow, Ivan said he would take a toy with him—at the beginning of the week at daycare, they’d take something for show-and-tell, a practice they don’t have at preschool, so maybe he was referring to that.
A little car with wheels, “so everyone will play with me, all boys and girls,” he said as he rolled over to sleep.
And earlier today, while Ivan and Andy were hanging out on the porch, our new neighbors across the street, whom we haven’t met yet, pulled up to the house. The young California blond got out of her red jeep. Ivan asked Andy if he knew her. Andy said no.
“Hey, what’s your name,” Ivan yelled out, trying to put Andy’s lesson into action.
Allen sitting up
For the past week, Allen doing downward facing dogs, trying to stand up on his feet. He ends up turning around to sit. He's quite fast and skilled at it.
He's so eager to stand up and try to walk. If he's standing next to someone, like myself, he tries to straighten himself out, while holding on to me.
I have a feeling he'll be an out-of-the-crib climber. He's just so eager to go.
Someone told me that early walking and talking go hand in hand. It makes sense. He's soooo incredibly chatty, with such a huge range of sounds. I joke he'll be an orator or a politician. He "talks" so much, yet he doesn’t even have anything to say.
If I recall Ivan correctly, all he'd say was "goo, goo." Allen, on the other hand, is like one of those car sirens---there is an entire repertoire of noises he goes through.
He's very loud, with incredibly loud and shrill shrieks.
He also still doesn’t sleep through the night, but cries and wants to be nursed every few hours. I just have to suck it up for a few nights, and let him cry it out to break this habit. Otherwise, I’ll turn into a zombie.
He's so eager to stand up and try to walk. If he's standing next to someone, like myself, he tries to straighten himself out, while holding on to me.
I have a feeling he'll be an out-of-the-crib climber. He's just so eager to go.
Someone told me that early walking and talking go hand in hand. It makes sense. He's soooo incredibly chatty, with such a huge range of sounds. I joke he'll be an orator or a politician. He "talks" so much, yet he doesn’t even have anything to say.
If I recall Ivan correctly, all he'd say was "goo, goo." Allen, on the other hand, is like one of those car sirens---there is an entire repertoire of noises he goes through.
He's very loud, with incredibly loud and shrill shrieks.
He also still doesn’t sleep through the night, but cries and wants to be nursed every few hours. I just have to suck it up for a few nights, and let him cry it out to break this habit. Otherwise, I’ll turn into a zombie.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Allen is after paper
No paper is safe around Allen, any more. He crawls for and toward the smaller scrap. To grab it, to put it in his mouth, to not let go of it.
Sent from my iPhone
First full day at preschool
Ivan was excited to be going to the "big boy school." How do I know? He didn't sleep well.
One last thing we had to take to preschool that we hadn't taken on Monday was a photo of us to have. Of course, despite my incessant photo-taking and thinking of myself as a photographer, we had no good photo of all of us (Ivan, Allen, Andy and myself, not to even think about Mariposa) available. It's either me and the kids, or more frequently and much better, Andy and the kids. The only photo of all of us, was the fuzzy, out-of-focus picture Andy's mom took and printed for me.
I gave Ivan three options-the fuzzy group photo, me with the kids, or Andy with the kids. He picked the fuzzy one of all of us. It pleased me that he wanted that one.
We were the first ones to arrive to school. This was good, as it's easier for Ivan to get acclimated to a new empty place than when the "party" is already in progress. (As I say, he always needs a pre-party time.)
We put everything in his cubby. He was excited to see his boots. He immediately noticed that his cubby didn't have a photo of him, whereas all other cubbies had a photo of their "owners" attached. I guess the photos were taken on Wednesday, when Ivan was at home. Mrs. Persons remarked how he immediately noticed that. She assured him his photo would be taken soon.
Then Ivan took off. He ran and explored the entire classroom, jumping and hopping and skipping around. It was like he was on this sugar high (and he had no sugar in the morning, just his regular cereal). Andy and I were stunned. It was too easy. He went to draw at the easel. He went to pee.
In the meantime another girl came in, who sat down with the teacher at the arts table to cut with scissors.
"I want to cut with scissors," Ivan said and sat down.
"Mama, you go a work now," he told me then, without looking at me, focusing intently on cutting his paper.
We got dissed.
"You want us to leave?" I said, just to double check.
"Yes."
Maybe Andy was right. Maybe he was done with daycare and ready to explore something new.
Maybe I don't give him enough credit. Maybe he's more resilient and less sensitive than I see him to be. He surprised us when he transitioned from the two to the three year-old classroom. I thought he'd have a really hard time leaving Ms. Yvonne and Ms. Azeb and that the transition would take weeks. Instead, they ended up transitioning him a week earlier than anticipated. He liked the three year-old classroom so much, he didn't want to return to his old one.
Andy called preschool around 11. Ivan was fine. There was no crying; they were impressed by him, whatever that meant.
Andy picked him up around 3:30. Ivan was at his cubby, checking it out. He did fine, Ms. Folwer said. He was jumping from one activity to the next and going to the bathroom every time they told him to without a problem. On the playground he fell and hurt his elbow. He cried a bit, but was fine. I hope someone hugged him.
He brought home two pieces of art--construction paper with holes. Apparently, he discovered and really liked the hole puncher.
Since it was early, Andy took him to work for the remainder of the work day. He was fascinated with the fax machine. He also asked Andy, "Why is she in your office?" referring to Anita who shares the office with Andy. She was present when Ivan posed that question out loud.)
One last thing we had to take to preschool that we hadn't taken on Monday was a photo of us to have. Of course, despite my incessant photo-taking and thinking of myself as a photographer, we had no good photo of all of us (Ivan, Allen, Andy and myself, not to even think about Mariposa) available. It's either me and the kids, or more frequently and much better, Andy and the kids. The only photo of all of us, was the fuzzy, out-of-focus picture Andy's mom took and printed for me.
I gave Ivan three options-the fuzzy group photo, me with the kids, or Andy with the kids. He picked the fuzzy one of all of us. It pleased me that he wanted that one.
We were the first ones to arrive to school. This was good, as it's easier for Ivan to get acclimated to a new empty place than when the "party" is already in progress. (As I say, he always needs a pre-party time.)
We put everything in his cubby. He was excited to see his boots. He immediately noticed that his cubby didn't have a photo of him, whereas all other cubbies had a photo of their "owners" attached. I guess the photos were taken on Wednesday, when Ivan was at home. Mrs. Persons remarked how he immediately noticed that. She assured him his photo would be taken soon.
Then Ivan took off. He ran and explored the entire classroom, jumping and hopping and skipping around. It was like he was on this sugar high (and he had no sugar in the morning, just his regular cereal). Andy and I were stunned. It was too easy. He went to draw at the easel. He went to pee.
In the meantime another girl came in, who sat down with the teacher at the arts table to cut with scissors.
"I want to cut with scissors," Ivan said and sat down.
"Mama, you go a work now," he told me then, without looking at me, focusing intently on cutting his paper.
We got dissed.
"You want us to leave?" I said, just to double check.
"Yes."
Maybe Andy was right. Maybe he was done with daycare and ready to explore something new.
Maybe I don't give him enough credit. Maybe he's more resilient and less sensitive than I see him to be. He surprised us when he transitioned from the two to the three year-old classroom. I thought he'd have a really hard time leaving Ms. Yvonne and Ms. Azeb and that the transition would take weeks. Instead, they ended up transitioning him a week earlier than anticipated. He liked the three year-old classroom so much, he didn't want to return to his old one.
Andy called preschool around 11. Ivan was fine. There was no crying; they were impressed by him, whatever that meant.
Andy picked him up around 3:30. Ivan was at his cubby, checking it out. He did fine, Ms. Folwer said. He was jumping from one activity to the next and going to the bathroom every time they told him to without a problem. On the playground he fell and hurt his elbow. He cried a bit, but was fine. I hope someone hugged him.
He brought home two pieces of art--construction paper with holes. Apparently, he discovered and really liked the hole puncher.
Since it was early, Andy took him to work for the remainder of the work day. He was fascinated with the fax machine. He also asked Andy, "Why is she in your office?" referring to Anita who shares the office with Andy. She was present when Ivan posed that question out loud.)
Friday, September 3, 2010
Graduate class?
The epiphany of where do I go next, what do I do next with my life that I was anticipating would become clear to me during my 19-week maternity leave with Allen never came, much to my disappointment.
Instead it might have kind of dribbled in—I’m still trying to decide whether this is it—at a doctor’s office in July while I was waiting my turn to be checked for what turned out be a humongous unfortunately placed underground “volcanic” zit on my breast. A consequence of nursing? Maybe, probably. But it was definitely not an abscess as I had feared when I rushed to make the doctor’s appointment. Opting not to read various pregnancy, baby, parenting, etc. magazines, I spotted an issue of Historic Preservation magazine. An odd choice for an ob-gyn waiting room, but well within my scope of interest. Historic preservation is one of these life-long affinities I have had, but have never acted on for different reasons.
I couldn’t get historic preservation out of my head since then. I considered starting a historic preservation blog. I even thought of a title (or does a blog have a name?): “yesterday’s places, today’s spaces.” Last week, I started trolling UMCP’s website, looking at their Historic Preservation courses. Last time I checked a few years ago, Historic Preservation used to be a Certificate. Now, it’s a Master’s program within the School of Architecture. I debated. Then on Monday night, on a whim, I composed an email to the head of the program who also teaches the intro graduate seminar whether it would be possible to attend a class. This is the first week of the fall semester. So it was either do it now, or wait until next year.
He responded first thing in the morning to come in.
I went to class last night. It was a test, a pilot of sorts. It was weird being in a classroom of 22 students, most of whom had obviously just finished their undergrad. They looked so young, so fresh. They asked stupid questions, but of key importance to them, about grading, and class work, and papers. Info that seemed so trivial to me. I felt old. “What am I doing here,” I wondered. I guess one doesn’t realize how much one has aged and matured until she’s put in a setting with actual, fresh-faced, young people. There was another older woman in the class. I’m sure she was older than me. I felt in between.
I loved the class. I loved the topics the professor went over. I loved the syllabus he covered. I loved the documentary about the move of Cape Hatteras, which really showed and summed up a number of issues in historic preservation. I loved the discussion that ensued, even though some of the cheeky, fresh-faced comments some students said made me realize that I’m too jaded, too older for the idealistic, open-minded, broad-based debate that universities foster. ‘Cause real life is more like high school than college, which is, unfortunately, the stark reality.
And now I find myself seriously considering signing up for the class as an Advanced Special Student. And then I promptly start doubting myself: Am I crazy? What am I doing? Why would I do this? This is so selfish. I can barely handle a full time job. I would anyway rather be at home than working, and now I want to add school to the mix as well? My guilt trip will consume me (well, at least the class is at night, when the kids are in bed, theoretically asleep, at least). If anything, I should devote myself more to work and building the career that I have underway now (in online communications) instead of starting something new. Would I be able to complete all the class work, readings, papers, and all? Do I want to do this? We can’t afford it. Andy’s tuition remission wouldn’t cover it. We don’t have $1800 for this: hello croaked A/C, what about new windows, how about a vacation within, let’s say, the next two years? And now I want to spend money on a class? To achieve what? Apply for another Master’s? And really go through the entire application process, GREs and all? What if I don’t get accepted? I can't afford another masters? Too expensive and too time consuming to do it part time. I’m just about to pay off my graduate student loans, and that soon-to-be freed up cash has already been slated to be put in a 529 plan for the kids, not for me.
I want to be there for the kids. They're growing up so fast. I want to be spending all my free time with them, not reading about decrepit buildings.
Yet I keep thinking about it. One of my life-goal plans has been to get a Ph.D. So I’m thinking maybe this is it. If I don’t get back in it now, when will I? I’m only getting older. Soon I'll be historic.
Other people’s midlife crises result in an affair, a red convertible, a boob job. Mine is manifesting itself as a return to school.
TBC
Instead it might have kind of dribbled in—I’m still trying to decide whether this is it—at a doctor’s office in July while I was waiting my turn to be checked for what turned out be a humongous unfortunately placed underground “volcanic” zit on my breast. A consequence of nursing? Maybe, probably. But it was definitely not an abscess as I had feared when I rushed to make the doctor’s appointment. Opting not to read various pregnancy, baby, parenting, etc. magazines, I spotted an issue of Historic Preservation magazine. An odd choice for an ob-gyn waiting room, but well within my scope of interest. Historic preservation is one of these life-long affinities I have had, but have never acted on for different reasons.
I couldn’t get historic preservation out of my head since then. I considered starting a historic preservation blog. I even thought of a title (or does a blog have a name?): “yesterday’s places, today’s spaces.” Last week, I started trolling UMCP’s website, looking at their Historic Preservation courses. Last time I checked a few years ago, Historic Preservation used to be a Certificate. Now, it’s a Master’s program within the School of Architecture. I debated. Then on Monday night, on a whim, I composed an email to the head of the program who also teaches the intro graduate seminar whether it would be possible to attend a class. This is the first week of the fall semester. So it was either do it now, or wait until next year.
He responded first thing in the morning to come in.
I went to class last night. It was a test, a pilot of sorts. It was weird being in a classroom of 22 students, most of whom had obviously just finished their undergrad. They looked so young, so fresh. They asked stupid questions, but of key importance to them, about grading, and class work, and papers. Info that seemed so trivial to me. I felt old. “What am I doing here,” I wondered. I guess one doesn’t realize how much one has aged and matured until she’s put in a setting with actual, fresh-faced, young people. There was another older woman in the class. I’m sure she was older than me. I felt in between.
I loved the class. I loved the topics the professor went over. I loved the syllabus he covered. I loved the documentary about the move of Cape Hatteras, which really showed and summed up a number of issues in historic preservation. I loved the discussion that ensued, even though some of the cheeky, fresh-faced comments some students said made me realize that I’m too jaded, too older for the idealistic, open-minded, broad-based debate that universities foster. ‘Cause real life is more like high school than college, which is, unfortunately, the stark reality.
And now I find myself seriously considering signing up for the class as an Advanced Special Student. And then I promptly start doubting myself: Am I crazy? What am I doing? Why would I do this? This is so selfish. I can barely handle a full time job. I would anyway rather be at home than working, and now I want to add school to the mix as well? My guilt trip will consume me (well, at least the class is at night, when the kids are in bed, theoretically asleep, at least). If anything, I should devote myself more to work and building the career that I have underway now (in online communications) instead of starting something new. Would I be able to complete all the class work, readings, papers, and all? Do I want to do this? We can’t afford it. Andy’s tuition remission wouldn’t cover it. We don’t have $1800 for this: hello croaked A/C, what about new windows, how about a vacation within, let’s say, the next two years? And now I want to spend money on a class? To achieve what? Apply for another Master’s? And really go through the entire application process, GREs and all? What if I don’t get accepted? I can't afford another masters? Too expensive and too time consuming to do it part time. I’m just about to pay off my graduate student loans, and that soon-to-be freed up cash has already been slated to be put in a 529 plan for the kids, not for me.
I want to be there for the kids. They're growing up so fast. I want to be spending all my free time with them, not reading about decrepit buildings.
Yet I keep thinking about it. One of my life-goal plans has been to get a Ph.D. So I’m thinking maybe this is it. If I don’t get back in it now, when will I? I’m only getting older. Soon I'll be historic.
Other people’s midlife crises result in an affair, a red convertible, a boob job. Mine is manifesting itself as a return to school.
TBC
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Goodbye daycare
Today was Ivan's last day at daycare. He didn't want to go in this morning. I wasn't sure why--whether because he knew it would be the last day (this seems like something he would be sensitive and attune to), or because he spent yesterday home with Didi and Allen to recover from his fever (which I still have no clue where it came from).
He wanted to take a book along. It's big book about cars and trucks that he got for his birthday but has only recently--like yesterday--expressed interest in reading.(He actually sat on his bed yesterday voluntarily and by himself to peruse the book. I was impressed. A new behavior.) Andy called to say the drop off went well, although he didn't want to go and play with kids but sat with Ms. Rosa to read the book.
We arrived with cupcakes and juice boxes at 3:15 as planned. The kids were up and sitting around the table. Since Ivan's chair faces the door, he saw us through the window. A big grin flooded his face. Not many kids were in daycare--Sashi, Dylan, Zachary, Margaret, Morgane, Erika and Ivan.
Ms. Rosa said that Ivan was telling everyone the entire day that we were going to come and bring cupcakes. I guess they were expecting us.
Andy and I opened the cupcakes and juice to serve everyone. Ivan helped us. He gave a cupcake to Ms. Norma but said she has to wait to eat it until Ms. Rosa came back from the bathroom run with two kids. Later, he gave a cupcake to Ms. Elta.
Everyone had cupcakes. Then the kids ran around and danced. Everyone danced but Ivan, although both Ms. Norma and Rosa say that Ivan dances a lot....but apparently not in front of his parents or at home.
Ms. Azeb stopped by to say hi as did Ms. Claudette. We went to the infants' room to say bye to Ms. Aletha.
I wrote thank you cards to give to Ms. Rosa, Ms. Norma and Ms. Elta who were his “butterfly” room teachers. Ms. Rosa really appreciated the card.
Although I was very emotional--as were all the teachers, who kept telling us that he's such a sweet boy and that they'll miss him immensely--tears didn't come. I spent the last few days fearing that I'd break down and start crying. I guess all the emotional prepping of the last few weeks paid off. I'm more at peace than I thought I'd be.
I took plenty of pictures of the classroom and the kids. Everyone was cooperative except Ivan who refused to be in the group picture. I think we somehow managed to include him, even though he was kicking and screaming.
Then we packed up his stuff, Ms. Rosa gave us a few remaining pieces of artwork, and that was it. We left. We left daycare for good.
Later at home, I told Ivan again that tomorrow he goes to the big boy school. He nodded and acknowledged it. He said he wanted to go. I asked him whether he wanted Medic to come along like on Monday. He said no. He wanted Medic to stay home with Didi and Allen. But when I tucked him to bed tonight, he asked for Medic, although lately he hasn't been falling asleep with him.
I still wonder whether he understands the finality of daycare and whether he cares. He must have. I'm inferring this from his need for Medic. I found it interesting that the other day (or was it this morning?) when I asked about daycare he mentioned Emma and Creighton, who are two four year-olds who recently, over the last few weeks, also left daycare to start a preschool. He's talked about Emma and Creighton in the past a lot as well because he's been at daycare with them all this time, so their mention might not have meant anything. Or maybe it meant something. I found it interesting. I told him that Creighton is no longer at daycare but is now going to another big boy school. I don't know if Ivan registered that.
On a personal note what really hurts--although this is really stupid, petty and so not relevant to a three year-old, and really says more about me than anything else--is the fact that Emma and Creigthon are going to the same preschool and are in the same class. I think they were good friends at daycare, mainly because they, along with Isabella C. and Sashi, were the oldest kids who've been at the daycare since they were all infants. And now at this new preschool, they will have each other. I also believe their parents are friends (or have gotten friendly through daycare) and that they do playdates outside daycare. All this will ensure nice continuity for them. Ivan doesn't have that. No continuity, no best friend, no nothing....for him. He starts from scratch.
Good bye daycare. We will miss you. At least I will.
He wanted to take a book along. It's big book about cars and trucks that he got for his birthday but has only recently--like yesterday--expressed interest in reading.(He actually sat on his bed yesterday voluntarily and by himself to peruse the book. I was impressed. A new behavior.) Andy called to say the drop off went well, although he didn't want to go and play with kids but sat with Ms. Rosa to read the book.
We arrived with cupcakes and juice boxes at 3:15 as planned. The kids were up and sitting around the table. Since Ivan's chair faces the door, he saw us through the window. A big grin flooded his face. Not many kids were in daycare--Sashi, Dylan, Zachary, Margaret, Morgane, Erika and Ivan.
Ms. Rosa said that Ivan was telling everyone the entire day that we were going to come and bring cupcakes. I guess they were expecting us.
Andy and I opened the cupcakes and juice to serve everyone. Ivan helped us. He gave a cupcake to Ms. Norma but said she has to wait to eat it until Ms. Rosa came back from the bathroom run with two kids. Later, he gave a cupcake to Ms. Elta.
Everyone had cupcakes. Then the kids ran around and danced. Everyone danced but Ivan, although both Ms. Norma and Rosa say that Ivan dances a lot....but apparently not in front of his parents or at home.
Ms. Azeb stopped by to say hi as did Ms. Claudette. We went to the infants' room to say bye to Ms. Aletha.
I wrote thank you cards to give to Ms. Rosa, Ms. Norma and Ms. Elta who were his “butterfly” room teachers. Ms. Rosa really appreciated the card.
Although I was very emotional--as were all the teachers, who kept telling us that he's such a sweet boy and that they'll miss him immensely--tears didn't come. I spent the last few days fearing that I'd break down and start crying. I guess all the emotional prepping of the last few weeks paid off. I'm more at peace than I thought I'd be.
I took plenty of pictures of the classroom and the kids. Everyone was cooperative except Ivan who refused to be in the group picture. I think we somehow managed to include him, even though he was kicking and screaming.
Then we packed up his stuff, Ms. Rosa gave us a few remaining pieces of artwork, and that was it. We left. We left daycare for good.
Later at home, I told Ivan again that tomorrow he goes to the big boy school. He nodded and acknowledged it. He said he wanted to go. I asked him whether he wanted Medic to come along like on Monday. He said no. He wanted Medic to stay home with Didi and Allen. But when I tucked him to bed tonight, he asked for Medic, although lately he hasn't been falling asleep with him.
I still wonder whether he understands the finality of daycare and whether he cares. He must have. I'm inferring this from his need for Medic. I found it interesting that the other day (or was it this morning?) when I asked about daycare he mentioned Emma and Creighton, who are two four year-olds who recently, over the last few weeks, also left daycare to start a preschool. He's talked about Emma and Creighton in the past a lot as well because he's been at daycare with them all this time, so their mention might not have meant anything. Or maybe it meant something. I found it interesting. I told him that Creighton is no longer at daycare but is now going to another big boy school. I don't know if Ivan registered that.
On a personal note what really hurts--although this is really stupid, petty and so not relevant to a three year-old, and really says more about me than anything else--is the fact that Emma and Creigthon are going to the same preschool and are in the same class. I think they were good friends at daycare, mainly because they, along with Isabella C. and Sashi, were the oldest kids who've been at the daycare since they were all infants. And now at this new preschool, they will have each other. I also believe their parents are friends (or have gotten friendly through daycare) and that they do playdates outside daycare. All this will ensure nice continuity for them. Ivan doesn't have that. No continuity, no best friend, no nothing....for him. He starts from scratch.
Good bye daycare. We will miss you. At least I will.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Next to the Last Daycare Day
Ivan slept well last night. He was in good spirits this morning. His temperature measured 98.8, so in my book, he was good to go.
We packed him up to take him to daycare. In the car, he started crying and whining that he didn't want to go to daycare but that he wanted to stay home with Didi. We ignored him. It was time to go to daycare.
Had it been any other week, I would've let him stay home. It would've been the preferable thing to do, considering yesterday's fever. But since this is the transition week, I was determined that he was going to ease into pre-school and ease out of daycare.
By the time we got to daycare, he was in a full crying mode, refusing to go. Andy offered to settle him in. Lately, Ivan's been crying for me and is clingy when I take him into daycare. He doesn't put on such a show for Andy. I waited in the car.
At work, I kept wondering whether we made the right decision to send him to daycare, or whether he should've stayed home.
Around noon, the phone call came in. It was Ms. Rosa. Ivan's has been clingy, not feeling well, complaining that he's cold, with a fever of 101. I felt awful. A bad mother. He should've stayed home today. Instead of making this a pleasant transition week, it's turning to be a sick week---a very unusual event, considering Ivan's been rarely sick.
When he spiked a fever yesterday, I actually thought that maybe the fever is a psychosomatic response to this transition. I don't know if that makes sense, but considering how rarely Ivan's been sick, I thought it possible.
Andy picked him up. He was with Ms. Rosa and Bella in the bathroom. Well, Ms. Rosa took Bella to the bathroom and Ivan tagged along. He had been following Ms. Rosa around the entire day, she said. I guess it makes sense for a baby who wasn't feeling well.
He came home, and slept off the afternoon. By the time I came home after work, he seemed fine. He didn't seem hot, so I didn't take his temperature.
But to be on the safe side, he's staying home tomorrow. Easing him into pre-school can wait until Friday.
We packed him up to take him to daycare. In the car, he started crying and whining that he didn't want to go to daycare but that he wanted to stay home with Didi. We ignored him. It was time to go to daycare.
Had it been any other week, I would've let him stay home. It would've been the preferable thing to do, considering yesterday's fever. But since this is the transition week, I was determined that he was going to ease into pre-school and ease out of daycare.
By the time we got to daycare, he was in a full crying mode, refusing to go. Andy offered to settle him in. Lately, Ivan's been crying for me and is clingy when I take him into daycare. He doesn't put on such a show for Andy. I waited in the car.
At work, I kept wondering whether we made the right decision to send him to daycare, or whether he should've stayed home.
Around noon, the phone call came in. It was Ms. Rosa. Ivan's has been clingy, not feeling well, complaining that he's cold, with a fever of 101. I felt awful. A bad mother. He should've stayed home today. Instead of making this a pleasant transition week, it's turning to be a sick week---a very unusual event, considering Ivan's been rarely sick.
When he spiked a fever yesterday, I actually thought that maybe the fever is a psychosomatic response to this transition. I don't know if that makes sense, but considering how rarely Ivan's been sick, I thought it possible.
Andy picked him up. He was with Ms. Rosa and Bella in the bathroom. Well, Ms. Rosa took Bella to the bathroom and Ivan tagged along. He had been following Ms. Rosa around the entire day, she said. I guess it makes sense for a baby who wasn't feeling well.
He came home, and slept off the afternoon. By the time I came home after work, he seemed fine. He didn't seem hot, so I didn't take his temperature.
But to be on the safe side, he's staying home tomorrow. Easing him into pre-school can wait until Friday.
Big Boy School
Today was it. The big day we’ve been waiting for and anticipating—we went to the “big boy school,” otherwise known as the UMCP pre-school , or CYC as is its official name.
The actual event, of course, was less frightening than all these months of anticipation.
We’ve been prepping Ivan for months now. Today was, finally, the big day.
Considering everything, it went rather smoothly.
First, last night I dragged him to Target, although he didn’t want to go, to shop for school supplies. We got an entire list from CYC of supplies to buy—markers, and the like—to bring to school today. They helpfully suggested to take the child along shopping as it could be a great bonding, school-prepping activity. So, off we went last evening—Sunday around 6 p.m., on the eve of the new school year, to Target, which apparently was in the middle of some sort of back-to-school sale.
The school supply area was barren. Big boxes and bins, which at some point earlier in the morning must have been nicely sorted, presented and organized, were raided. It was like entering a Communist grocery store that people just raided for the one and only shipment of coffee. There was nothing left, except many other parents and kids, circling the bins like vultures, rummaging through the sparse and misplaced
remains.
It had never occurred to me that it may not be the brightest idea go school-supply shopping at Target on the eve of the new school year. Andy later asked me, why didn’t I do it earlier. Maybe because I was in denial that this pre-school transition was actually about to take place?
At Target, Ivan was getting irritated, and wanted stuff we didn’t set out to buy. I couldn’t find the items the school asked for. Items like scotch tape (there was none left), or black and white marble notebooks, which I translated to mean those lab notebooks (none left), fine tip and fat tip Crayola markers in an 8-piece set (the ones I found only came in a set of 10, and didn’t really have the descriptions that the teachers put on the To Buy List), glue sticks (check), Elmers glue (check), Friskers scissors (almost didn’t…but check), etc…
In my inability to find these basic school items and the lack of forethought that it may not have been the greatest idea to go shopping for them so late, I became anxious, really anxious. What were those teachers going to think when I couldn’t even purchase these basic items? Were they going to peg me as a bad, unengaged mom? I started doubting myself, as a mother, person, well, really, a competent adult.
Luckily, Ivan didn’t have a meltdown and even got an extra pair of scissors to have at home.
This morning as we packed for pre-school, Ivan refused to take the supplies. “They’re for my house,” he insisted. “They’re for pre-school,” I insisted back.
When Ivan woke up this morning, I continued hyping him for pre-school. Everything seemed fine. We had a run of the mill morning, until he said his knee hurt and he needed a band aid. He fetched a band aid and put it on his knee. I’m not sure where this mysterious knee pain came from. He has fallen a lot lately, including two days ago at Dutch Wonderland, but he hadn’t fallen this morning, nor were his knees bruised, blue-marked or skinned. A few minutes later he took the band aid off, saying his knee no longer hurt.
Before heading to pre-school, we had to swing by the pediatrician’s office to pick up his health forms, which I had dropped off really early (and was very proud of myself for doing so), but never found the time to go and pick them up. (They were only due at CYC a week ago.)
This was around 9:30 a.m. We got in the car. He started yawning. He looked exhausted, as if he didn’t sleep at all. Since he woke up very early this morning, like at 5 a.m., I didn’t think anything of it.
He continued yawning. After the pediatrician’s, we swung back by the house to pick up his newly-purchased boots (a CYC request) which I forgot to pack, and proceeded to Maryland. Ivan continued yawning. He started falling asleep, and I could tell he was doing his best to keep himself away. But at the intersection of RT 198 and Adelphi, he gave in. He fell asleep. It was 10:10 a.m. It was unusual of him to do that.
A few minutes later, we arrived. It was 10:20. The school door hadn’t opened yet. I guess they are very punctual and strict with their rules. They said the doors would open at 10:30. We waited outside. It was hot and sunny. Freshly-awoken Ivan, was hot and cranky. Really cranky. “My tummy hurts,” he said. “I want to go home,” he added. I wasn’t surprised.
At 10:30, we were let in. We found the Green Room. Ivan continued whining that he wanted to go home. I expected it and braced myself for it.
The room was really nice. Well equipped with various play stations, nice cubbies for each child, etc. Ivan continued crying that he wanted to go home. This lasted some 15minutes, or so it seemed. Eventually, he let go, when he saw a bowl of goldfish and water on the table. We sat down to eat. A few other moms and girls joined us. While I made small talk, Ivan ate and ignored the kids. Then he had to go pee, pee. “Pee, pee,” he said. I swiftly ushered him into the bathroom. The bathrooms are kid-size, with low toilets and sinks. Really nice and cute. He did everything himself—took off his clothes, peed, got dressed, washed hands…etc. Then we returned to eat our goldfish. Sometime later, he had to go poopy. So we did. Without a problem. Again, he did everything. He even wiped himself (this was an easy wipe). Later he went to pee again. All in all, I was thrilled that he had to use the bathroom three times, and did it without any big problems.
Back in the classroom, he discovered a sink (kid-height), which had that hose-faucet, like our sink, and a water fountain. He spent most of the remaining time, at the sink and the water fountain. His shirt was completely wet. “I’m cold, mama,” he said several times. I assumed he was cold because of the water.
He eventually explored the rest of the classroom. He looked at the blocks, at the big water table with shells, at the drawing station, etc…
Throughout all this time, Ivan kept yawing. He also looked tired and not-rested. I thought one of the teachers noticed that—well he yawned as I was trying to talk to her—I felt embarrassed. What if they think that I don’t take good care of my child?
Then Andy arrived and Ivan showed him around. At the great room, basically their central hallway, Ivan remembered the music teacher. When we visited the center back in March, there was a music class taking place there. I’m shocked that he remembered it, considering that was six months ago
There are two teachers in the classroom. They introduced themselves and we said hi to them. We didn’t really get to interact with them. One, Cici, seemed personable and nice. The other one, Sara, came across as rather cold. Not necessarily cold, but definitely not warm, bubbly and fuzzy. In our debrief this evening, this was something that both Andy and I separately noted today. Neither one was thrilled with this realization.
We were at CYC for one hour. Then we went to get lunch at the golf course. Ivan kept yawing and saying he was cold, even after we changed his shirt.
The lunch was really nice. We sat outside in the shade, overlooking the golf course. Ivan got cranky and tired. He wanted to sit on me. He felt really hot. He cuddled in my lap and fell asleep. He had never done that before.
When we came home, I took his temperature. 101.1 fever. No wonder he wasn’t feeling well. He's had the fever for the rest of the day and went to bed with it.
So all told, the day went pretty well.
I can’t tell whether he liked CYC or not. This afternoon, he told me that he wants to go back and that he doesn’t want to go back. So I don’t know.
This is supposed to be the transition week—Monday CYC, Tuesday daycare (although now with the fever, he won’t go), Wednesday CYC, Thursday daycare (and goodbye party), Friday CYC.
I told him that on Thursday, we’ll have a goodbye party at daycare. He got excited
at the prospect of a party “for me,” but I’m not sure whether he understands the finality of it.
He did tell me that he’ll have new friends at CYC, but I think he’s just regurgitating what we’ve told him before. I’ve also asked him again who does he play with at daycare, who’s his friend and who’d he like to come over. He didn’t say anything. When I asked about Dylan, he said, yes Dylan. Again, I’m not sure whether he really means that or says what he thinks I want to hear.
The actual event, of course, was less frightening than all these months of anticipation.
We’ve been prepping Ivan for months now. Today was, finally, the big day.
Considering everything, it went rather smoothly.
First, last night I dragged him to Target, although he didn’t want to go, to shop for school supplies. We got an entire list from CYC of supplies to buy—markers, and the like—to bring to school today. They helpfully suggested to take the child along shopping as it could be a great bonding, school-prepping activity. So, off we went last evening—Sunday around 6 p.m., on the eve of the new school year, to Target, which apparently was in the middle of some sort of back-to-school sale.
The school supply area was barren. Big boxes and bins, which at some point earlier in the morning must have been nicely sorted, presented and organized, were raided. It was like entering a Communist grocery store that people just raided for the one and only shipment of coffee. There was nothing left, except many other parents and kids, circling the bins like vultures, rummaging through the sparse and misplaced
remains.
It had never occurred to me that it may not be the brightest idea go school-supply shopping at Target on the eve of the new school year. Andy later asked me, why didn’t I do it earlier. Maybe because I was in denial that this pre-school transition was actually about to take place?
At Target, Ivan was getting irritated, and wanted stuff we didn’t set out to buy. I couldn’t find the items the school asked for. Items like scotch tape (there was none left), or black and white marble notebooks, which I translated to mean those lab notebooks (none left), fine tip and fat tip Crayola markers in an 8-piece set (the ones I found only came in a set of 10, and didn’t really have the descriptions that the teachers put on the To Buy List), glue sticks (check), Elmers glue (check), Friskers scissors (almost didn’t…but check), etc…
In my inability to find these basic school items and the lack of forethought that it may not have been the greatest idea to go shopping for them so late, I became anxious, really anxious. What were those teachers going to think when I couldn’t even purchase these basic items? Were they going to peg me as a bad, unengaged mom? I started doubting myself, as a mother, person, well, really, a competent adult.
Luckily, Ivan didn’t have a meltdown and even got an extra pair of scissors to have at home.
This morning as we packed for pre-school, Ivan refused to take the supplies. “They’re for my house,” he insisted. “They’re for pre-school,” I insisted back.
When Ivan woke up this morning, I continued hyping him for pre-school. Everything seemed fine. We had a run of the mill morning, until he said his knee hurt and he needed a band aid. He fetched a band aid and put it on his knee. I’m not sure where this mysterious knee pain came from. He has fallen a lot lately, including two days ago at Dutch Wonderland, but he hadn’t fallen this morning, nor were his knees bruised, blue-marked or skinned. A few minutes later he took the band aid off, saying his knee no longer hurt.
Before heading to pre-school, we had to swing by the pediatrician’s office to pick up his health forms, which I had dropped off really early (and was very proud of myself for doing so), but never found the time to go and pick them up. (They were only due at CYC a week ago.)
This was around 9:30 a.m. We got in the car. He started yawning. He looked exhausted, as if he didn’t sleep at all. Since he woke up very early this morning, like at 5 a.m., I didn’t think anything of it.
He continued yawning. After the pediatrician’s, we swung back by the house to pick up his newly-purchased boots (a CYC request) which I forgot to pack, and proceeded to Maryland. Ivan continued yawning. He started falling asleep, and I could tell he was doing his best to keep himself away. But at the intersection of RT 198 and Adelphi, he gave in. He fell asleep. It was 10:10 a.m. It was unusual of him to do that.
A few minutes later, we arrived. It was 10:20. The school door hadn’t opened yet. I guess they are very punctual and strict with their rules. They said the doors would open at 10:30. We waited outside. It was hot and sunny. Freshly-awoken Ivan, was hot and cranky. Really cranky. “My tummy hurts,” he said. “I want to go home,” he added. I wasn’t surprised.
At 10:30, we were let in. We found the Green Room. Ivan continued whining that he wanted to go home. I expected it and braced myself for it.
The room was really nice. Well equipped with various play stations, nice cubbies for each child, etc. Ivan continued crying that he wanted to go home. This lasted some 15minutes, or so it seemed. Eventually, he let go, when he saw a bowl of goldfish and water on the table. We sat down to eat. A few other moms and girls joined us. While I made small talk, Ivan ate and ignored the kids. Then he had to go pee, pee. “Pee, pee,” he said. I swiftly ushered him into the bathroom. The bathrooms are kid-size, with low toilets and sinks. Really nice and cute. He did everything himself—took off his clothes, peed, got dressed, washed hands…etc. Then we returned to eat our goldfish. Sometime later, he had to go poopy. So we did. Without a problem. Again, he did everything. He even wiped himself (this was an easy wipe). Later he went to pee again. All in all, I was thrilled that he had to use the bathroom three times, and did it without any big problems.
Back in the classroom, he discovered a sink (kid-height), which had that hose-faucet, like our sink, and a water fountain. He spent most of the remaining time, at the sink and the water fountain. His shirt was completely wet. “I’m cold, mama,” he said several times. I assumed he was cold because of the water.
He eventually explored the rest of the classroom. He looked at the blocks, at the big water table with shells, at the drawing station, etc…
Throughout all this time, Ivan kept yawing. He also looked tired and not-rested. I thought one of the teachers noticed that—well he yawned as I was trying to talk to her—I felt embarrassed. What if they think that I don’t take good care of my child?
Then Andy arrived and Ivan showed him around. At the great room, basically their central hallway, Ivan remembered the music teacher. When we visited the center back in March, there was a music class taking place there. I’m shocked that he remembered it, considering that was six months ago
There are two teachers in the classroom. They introduced themselves and we said hi to them. We didn’t really get to interact with them. One, Cici, seemed personable and nice. The other one, Sara, came across as rather cold. Not necessarily cold, but definitely not warm, bubbly and fuzzy. In our debrief this evening, this was something that both Andy and I separately noted today. Neither one was thrilled with this realization.
We were at CYC for one hour. Then we went to get lunch at the golf course. Ivan kept yawing and saying he was cold, even after we changed his shirt.
The lunch was really nice. We sat outside in the shade, overlooking the golf course. Ivan got cranky and tired. He wanted to sit on me. He felt really hot. He cuddled in my lap and fell asleep. He had never done that before.
When we came home, I took his temperature. 101.1 fever. No wonder he wasn’t feeling well. He's had the fever for the rest of the day and went to bed with it.
So all told, the day went pretty well.
I can’t tell whether he liked CYC or not. This afternoon, he told me that he wants to go back and that he doesn’t want to go back. So I don’t know.
This is supposed to be the transition week—Monday CYC, Tuesday daycare (although now with the fever, he won’t go), Wednesday CYC, Thursday daycare (and goodbye party), Friday CYC.
I told him that on Thursday, we’ll have a goodbye party at daycare. He got excited
at the prospect of a party “for me,” but I’m not sure whether he understands the finality of it.
He did tell me that he’ll have new friends at CYC, but I think he’s just regurgitating what we’ve told him before. I’ve also asked him again who does he play with at daycare, who’s his friend and who’d he like to come over. He didn’t say anything. When I asked about Dylan, he said, yes Dylan. Again, I’m not sure whether he really means that or says what he thinks I want to hear.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
First Tooth
Allen's first tooth poked through today. The lower right tooth. It broke ground today. We knew it was coming. Allen's been drooling for a while now. And for the last few days he's been exceptionally cranky, and downright angry.
He's been violently rejecting the pacifier; he absolutely refuses to put it in his mouth. I shouldn't complain about this. In the long run, it's a good thing. He won't be a two year-old addicted to his pacifier. But now, I wish he would take it, so he'd stop crying. Ivan also rejected the pacifier when he was about nine months old.
Also, putting Allen to bed has gotten more difficult these few days as well. It must be tooth-related. He has been throwing a fit at the mere sight of his room, not to mention actually being lowered into his crib.
He's been violently rejecting the pacifier; he absolutely refuses to put it in his mouth. I shouldn't complain about this. In the long run, it's a good thing. He won't be a two year-old addicted to his pacifier. But now, I wish he would take it, so he'd stop crying. Ivan also rejected the pacifier when he was about nine months old.
Also, putting Allen to bed has gotten more difficult these few days as well. It must be tooth-related. He has been throwing a fit at the mere sight of his room, not to mention actually being lowered into his crib.
Don't be like a princess
"Don't be like a princess. Be like a girl," Ivan told me last night when
he saw me wear earrings. And I wasn't even wearing a skirt.
he saw me wear earrings. And I wasn't even wearing a skirt.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Last Week at Daycare
This is Ivan's last week at daycare.
I double checked Maryland's Parents' Guidebook. It explained in detail what they mean about a kid being potty trained. The child needs to be able to wipe himself. Ivan doesn't know how.
At bathtime, I brought up the issue of daycare.
He's been excited that he'll go to "big boy school," as we've been prepring him all summer.
This is Ivan's last week at daycare, and the gut wrenching feeling remains.
Now, there’s another thing that I’m concerned about: I double-checked Maryland's Parents' Guidebook. It explained in detail what they mean about a child being potty trained. In addition to knowing when and how to use the potty, a child needs to be completely self-sufficient in the bathroom, including being able to wipe himself. Ivan doesn't know how to do that. We haven’t practiced that skill yet. Surprisingly enough, that’s harder to master than one would think. So we had put that on the back burner for a while, focusing instead on the actual potty part and clothes handling (which is another skill that’s more difficult to master than one would think.)
At bath-time, I brought up the issue of daycare. Ivan's been excited that he'll go to the "big boy school," as we've been prepping him all summer.
I told him that this week we'll have a goodbye party at daycare. He perked up at the thought of a party.
“We'll need to say goodbye to Ms Rosa, Ms. Norma and all his friends,” I said.
Then I asked again, who he likes to play with at daycare. He didn’t answer me. He never does, when I ask that question.
I continued explaining that how for the big boy school, he'll need to know how to wipe himself and that we'll need to practice this week. He didn’t acknowledge that.
He asked, however, whether I'll take him to the big boy school. “Yes,” I said.
After a short silence he asked for milk, while he was sitting in the bathtub. Milk, for Ivan, is really a synonym for being scared and wanting comfort. It was the first time I saw him acknowledge this change and being aware that something is about to happen.
Once he was tucked in bed and we turned off the light, I said that Medic can come to preschool as well, if he wants him to. He nodded yes.
Last Friday at daycare, they had the school picnic. There was music (radio), food, a moon bounce, water play, etc…. Even though Ivan doesn’t attend daycare on Fridays, I made sure we went. We went early and stayed for the entire event (until it winded down at 2)
He had a blast. He paid attention to me and made sure I was there, but otherwise, he ran everywhere to play to do all the activities, including the moon bounce. He loved being inside and jumping around with other kids. (However, he didn’t want to climb up and go down the rather steep moon bounce slide, like some other kids who were inside. The slide did look really steep and not fun. Yes, my baby is more cautious, less daredevil-ly and more scared than some other kids, like Alexandra, who although she looks so prim, proper and girly, is a little tomboy who yelled at Ivan to get out of the way, if he wasn’t going to climb up the slide.)
He only came back to me when he was tired and wanted to go home.
All in all, what a difference from last year, when at the same event, he spent the entire time sitting in my lap, unwilling to budge without me. He wouldn’t go near the moon bounce.
He seems so comfortable, happy and at ease here. My ambivalence of pulling him out of daycare hit me with the vengeance. I feel awful knowing that soon all this would end, and he’ll start a new school, a bigger school, surrounded with strangers where he’ll have to start from scratch.
I told Ms. Rosa that he's leaving. She was said. She told me again, as she had on several other occasions, that he’s such a good boy, that he’s such a pleasure to have in her classroom, and that they’ll really miss him.
I wanted to cry.
I asked Creighton's mom about his transition to the big boy school he was just transitioned into a few weeks ago (Creighton was at the party). She said the transition was difficult.
Emma's mom said the same thing. Emma keeps asking about her friends, although she transitioned in June.
Both of these kids are much more extroverted, bolder kids than Ivan is.
I wonder what next week will be like.
I told him that this week we'll ahve a goodbye party at daycare. He perked up at the thought of a party.
I said we'll need to saygoodbye to Ms Rosa, Norma and all his friends.
I asked again, who he likes to play with at daycare, but he didn't answer.
FOr new big boy school, he'll need to know how to wipe himself, that we'll need to practice this week....
He asked whether I'll take him to big boy school. I said yes.
Then he said he wanted milk while he was in the bathtub. Milk is really his synonim for being scared and wanting comfort. It was the first time I saw him acknowledge this change and being aware that something is about to happen.
Once he was tucked in bed and we turned off teh light, I said that Medic can come to daycare as well, if he wants him to. He nodded yes.
Last Friday at daycare, they had a school picnic....moonbounce and all.
Last year, he sat in my lap all the time and wouldn't budge. This time he willingly went into the moon bounce, walked around, played....only came to me when he was tired and wanted to go home. What a difference.
I feel awful.
I told Ms. Rosa that he's leaving...
I asked Creighton's mom about his transition to the big boy school he was just transitioned into a few weeks ago (Creighton was at the party). SHe said the transition was difficult.
Emma's mom said the same thing. That she keeps asking abotuher friends, although she transitioned in June.
And both of those are much more extroverted, bolder kids than Ivan is.
I wonder what next week will be like.
I double checked Maryland's Parents' Guidebook. It explained in detail what they mean about a kid being potty trained. The child needs to be able to wipe himself. Ivan doesn't know how.
At bathtime, I brought up the issue of daycare.
He's been excited that he'll go to "big boy school," as we've been prepring him all summer.
This is Ivan's last week at daycare, and the gut wrenching feeling remains.
Now, there’s another thing that I’m concerned about: I double-checked Maryland's Parents' Guidebook. It explained in detail what they mean about a child being potty trained. In addition to knowing when and how to use the potty, a child needs to be completely self-sufficient in the bathroom, including being able to wipe himself. Ivan doesn't know how to do that. We haven’t practiced that skill yet. Surprisingly enough, that’s harder to master than one would think. So we had put that on the back burner for a while, focusing instead on the actual potty part and clothes handling (which is another skill that’s more difficult to master than one would think.)
At bath-time, I brought up the issue of daycare. Ivan's been excited that he'll go to the "big boy school," as we've been prepping him all summer.
I told him that this week we'll have a goodbye party at daycare. He perked up at the thought of a party.
“We'll need to say goodbye to Ms Rosa, Ms. Norma and all his friends,” I said.
Then I asked again, who he likes to play with at daycare. He didn’t answer me. He never does, when I ask that question.
I continued explaining that how for the big boy school, he'll need to know how to wipe himself and that we'll need to practice this week. He didn’t acknowledge that.
He asked, however, whether I'll take him to the big boy school. “Yes,” I said.
After a short silence he asked for milk, while he was sitting in the bathtub. Milk, for Ivan, is really a synonym for being scared and wanting comfort. It was the first time I saw him acknowledge this change and being aware that something is about to happen.
Once he was tucked in bed and we turned off the light, I said that Medic can come to preschool as well, if he wants him to. He nodded yes.
Last Friday at daycare, they had the school picnic. There was music (radio), food, a moon bounce, water play, etc…. Even though Ivan doesn’t attend daycare on Fridays, I made sure we went. We went early and stayed for the entire event (until it winded down at 2)
He had a blast. He paid attention to me and made sure I was there, but otherwise, he ran everywhere to play to do all the activities, including the moon bounce. He loved being inside and jumping around with other kids. (However, he didn’t want to climb up and go down the rather steep moon bounce slide, like some other kids who were inside. The slide did look really steep and not fun. Yes, my baby is more cautious, less daredevil-ly and more scared than some other kids, like Alexandra, who although she looks so prim, proper and girly, is a little tomboy who yelled at Ivan to get out of the way, if he wasn’t going to climb up the slide.)
He only came back to me when he was tired and wanted to go home.
All in all, what a difference from last year, when at the same event, he spent the entire time sitting in my lap, unwilling to budge without me. He wouldn’t go near the moon bounce.
He seems so comfortable, happy and at ease here. My ambivalence of pulling him out of daycare hit me with the vengeance. I feel awful knowing that soon all this would end, and he’ll start a new school, a bigger school, surrounded with strangers where he’ll have to start from scratch.
I told Ms. Rosa that he's leaving. She was said. She told me again, as she had on several other occasions, that he’s such a good boy, that he’s such a pleasure to have in her classroom, and that they’ll really miss him.
I wanted to cry.
I asked Creighton's mom about his transition to the big boy school he was just transitioned into a few weeks ago (Creighton was at the party). She said the transition was difficult.
Emma's mom said the same thing. Emma keeps asking about her friends, although she transitioned in June.
Both of these kids are much more extroverted, bolder kids than Ivan is.
I wonder what next week will be like.
I told him that this week we'll ahve a goodbye party at daycare. He perked up at the thought of a party.
I said we'll need to saygoodbye to Ms Rosa, Norma and all his friends.
I asked again, who he likes to play with at daycare, but he didn't answer.
FOr new big boy school, he'll need to know how to wipe himself, that we'll need to practice this week....
He asked whether I'll take him to big boy school. I said yes.
Then he said he wanted milk while he was in the bathtub. Milk is really his synonim for being scared and wanting comfort. It was the first time I saw him acknowledge this change and being aware that something is about to happen.
Once he was tucked in bed and we turned off teh light, I said that Medic can come to daycare as well, if he wants him to. He nodded yes.
Last Friday at daycare, they had a school picnic....moonbounce and all.
Last year, he sat in my lap all the time and wouldn't budge. This time he willingly went into the moon bounce, walked around, played....only came to me when he was tired and wanted to go home. What a difference.
I feel awful.
I told Ms. Rosa that he's leaving...
I asked Creighton's mom about his transition to the big boy school he was just transitioned into a few weeks ago (Creighton was at the party). SHe said the transition was difficult.
Emma's mom said the same thing. That she keeps asking abotuher friends, although she transitioned in June.
And both of those are much more extroverted, bolder kids than Ivan is.
I wonder what next week will be like.
Have bunnies been forgotten
The other day I realized that Ivan hadn't mentioned bunnies in the last few months, so I decided to ask about them.
"What happened to the bunnies? The bunny rabbits," I asked.
Ivan looked at me, as if he didn't understand what I was talking about.
"The bunnies that lived in the cage, under the carpet?"
Is it possible that he forgot about them, I wondered.
"I let them go," he said finally. He seemed to have been thinking up the right answer as he was saying it, as if he thought it up right there, on the fly. Like he had actually forgotten about them.
Who knows, maybe he had forgotten about them. It seems unlikely, considering various other trivia and memories he brings up 4-6 months after the fact.
"What happened to the bunnies? The bunny rabbits," I asked.
Ivan looked at me, as if he didn't understand what I was talking about.
"The bunnies that lived in the cage, under the carpet?"
Is it possible that he forgot about them, I wondered.
"I let them go," he said finally. He seemed to have been thinking up the right answer as he was saying it, as if he thought it up right there, on the fly. Like he had actually forgotten about them.
Who knows, maybe he had forgotten about them. It seems unlikely, considering various other trivia and memories he brings up 4-6 months after the fact.
Ivan's Kitchen
"Watch you put that there," Ivan said as he entered the house.
"What is this?" I asked.
"It's a kitchen, for me," he said, approaching to check it out.
Yesterday, while Ivan was spending the night at my parents', I bought him a play kitchen from Ikea. Surprisingly enough, it was easy to put together, for an Ikea product, that is.
He's spent the last few months constantly playing kitchen that finally I broke down and decided it was worth spending a hundred bucks for him to have a kitchen.
Initially, Andy wanted to buy him a kitchen this past Christmas, but I balked at the price and didn't think he would enjoy it much. I didn't think he really cared to play kitchen, until this past spring, when he basically wouldn't leave daycare, but cooked, served me food and washed dishes for about 45 minutes.
Ivan timidly, but with a smile, approached the kitchen. He turned on the stove. The stove is an electric glass stove top--which actually looks just like our actual stove top--with two button that he can push to turn on a burner.
He opened the cabinets. He looked at his utensils. "Oh, a little one," he said looking at a pair of thongs.
"What am I going to cook," he asked.
I offered a suggestion, which he dismissed.
"How about Didi's meat?" I tried again.
"No, that's too hard," he said.
"I'm going to make cream cheese hummus," he decided.
While I went upstairs to get dressed for work, he took hummus out of the fridge, scooped it into a pot, and was stirring it on the stove.
"Aah, how about you make playdoh hummus," I offered, taking everything to wash out.
"You can't make playdoh hummus," he answered, frowning. "What am I going to cook?"
We settled on pasta. I gave him some noodles to put in his pot. Then he wanted to take some more himself.
When I returned from work, he quickly went to open the fridge and show me pasta he cooked.
He "cooked" his pasta, sprinkled some grated cheese on it, wrapped it in saran wrap, and stored it in the fridge. Just like I would've done.
"Try it, mama," he said. "Crunchy pasta," he said smiling.
He brought out his pot of pasta for "you, dadda and me, that's for us," to eat.
And we had to help ourselves to some. Then he put it back in the fridge.
"That's for later."
"What is this?" I asked.
"It's a kitchen, for me," he said, approaching to check it out.
Yesterday, while Ivan was spending the night at my parents', I bought him a play kitchen from Ikea. Surprisingly enough, it was easy to put together, for an Ikea product, that is.
He's spent the last few months constantly playing kitchen that finally I broke down and decided it was worth spending a hundred bucks for him to have a kitchen.
Initially, Andy wanted to buy him a kitchen this past Christmas, but I balked at the price and didn't think he would enjoy it much. I didn't think he really cared to play kitchen, until this past spring, when he basically wouldn't leave daycare, but cooked, served me food and washed dishes for about 45 minutes.
Ivan timidly, but with a smile, approached the kitchen. He turned on the stove. The stove is an electric glass stove top--which actually looks just like our actual stove top--with two button that he can push to turn on a burner.
He opened the cabinets. He looked at his utensils. "Oh, a little one," he said looking at a pair of thongs.
"What am I going to cook," he asked.
I offered a suggestion, which he dismissed.
"How about Didi's meat?" I tried again.
"No, that's too hard," he said.
"I'm going to make cream cheese hummus," he decided.
While I went upstairs to get dressed for work, he took hummus out of the fridge, scooped it into a pot, and was stirring it on the stove.
"Aah, how about you make playdoh hummus," I offered, taking everything to wash out.
"You can't make playdoh hummus," he answered, frowning. "What am I going to cook?"
We settled on pasta. I gave him some noodles to put in his pot. Then he wanted to take some more himself.
When I returned from work, he quickly went to open the fridge and show me pasta he cooked.
He "cooked" his pasta, sprinkled some grated cheese on it, wrapped it in saran wrap, and stored it in the fridge. Just like I would've done.
"Try it, mama," he said. "Crunchy pasta," he said smiling.
He brought out his pot of pasta for "you, dadda and me, that's for us," to eat.
And we had to help ourselves to some. Then he put it back in the fridge.
"That's for later."
Kitchen at the end of the day.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
The Big Cricket, Part 2
"Mama, I'm no longer scared of the Big Cricket," Ivan told me the other day, a few weeks after he announced he was afraid of the Big Cricket.
So I guess, the Big Cricket fear is over.
He also didn't seem scared of the deluge-like rain that blanketed our area on Thursday, nor the accompanying lighthing and thunder.
Andy and I were trying to stay calm although we were freaking out because water got into two windows, and we basically spent the storm holding towels to the windows soaking up the water.
Ivan was curious what we were doing but didn't seem scared. Nor was he scared later in the afternoon when the electricity went out for a while.
So I guess, the Big Cricket fear is over.
He also didn't seem scared of the deluge-like rain that blanketed our area on Thursday, nor the accompanying lighthing and thunder.
Andy and I were trying to stay calm although we were freaking out because water got into two windows, and we basically spent the storm holding towels to the windows soaking up the water.
Ivan was curious what we were doing but didn't seem scared. Nor was he scared later in the afternoon when the electricity went out for a while.
Allen's Crawling
About three weeks ago, Allen started crawling. It was really subtle and imperceptible at first. He'd kind of stretch his arm, then roll over and in the process inch forward. Then he started getting up on his fours and rocking back and forth. He’d try to move his arm and topple over, inching forward in the process.
By now, he’s all over the place. He still rocks on all fours, but hasn’t learned how to turn that rocking into crawling. Instead, he’s doing the army crawl, just like Ivan. In other words, he’s sweeping my floors.
This means I’m back to daily vacuuming and kitchen sweeping. Of course, Mariposa is shedding like crazy because it’s so hot. Also, the carpet and the floor seem to be incessantly littered with dried up bits of playdoh, regardless of how much I vacuum and pick it up. I’m afraid that Allen will eat it.
Also, we also brought out the jumpy chair after Allen turned six months. Allen loves it.
My feeling is that Allen will start crawling, walking, etc. much sooner than Ivan. I also think he’ll be an out-of-crib climber, unlike Ivan, who did that once and never again.
By now, he’s all over the place. He still rocks on all fours, but hasn’t learned how to turn that rocking into crawling. Instead, he’s doing the army crawl, just like Ivan. In other words, he’s sweeping my floors.
This means I’m back to daily vacuuming and kitchen sweeping. Of course, Mariposa is shedding like crazy because it’s so hot. Also, the carpet and the floor seem to be incessantly littered with dried up bits of playdoh, regardless of how much I vacuum and pick it up. I’m afraid that Allen will eat it.
Also, we also brought out the jumpy chair after Allen turned six months. Allen loves it.
My feeling is that Allen will start crawling, walking, etc. much sooner than Ivan. I also think he’ll be an out-of-crib climber, unlike Ivan, who did that once and never again.
Daycare vs. Preschool
The clock’s ticking, it’s down to the wire, the MD pre-school bill’s due on Friday, and I’m still dragging my feet whether to keep Ivan in daycare or transfer him to Maryland. Andy’s made up his mind. It’s Maryland, for him. I have not, although we started the ball rolling for MD back in March and have completed all the paperwork, paid all fees, etc….and have basically enrolled him.
I’m the obstacle. Every time I think about it, I get paralyzed. I can’t make a decision. I get this gut wrenching feeling in my stomach.
It feels like I’m breaking up with someone, with daycare in this case. I don’t know why I’m so hung up on it. And this really shouldn’t be about me, but about Ivan. And I’m trying to decide what I think is best for him, and in the process, I think I have started projecting my issues onto this.
I’m sad that we’ll leave our daycare. I’m sad that Ivan will leave all the teachers behind—that he won’t get to see them and that they won’t get to see him anymore.
I’m sad that he’ll never see any of the daycare kids again. I’m sad, but would he be? Would he care? How attached is he to them? I know he plays with them and mentioned them at home, but how close is he to them? Will he remember them, will he care? Long-term, he probably won’t, although he seems to have a good memory. Short-term, will he be concerned what happened to them, why he’ll never see them again, and what if we stay in touch with a few kids, like Isabella K, or maybe Sashi or Dylan, will he wonder why he’s not in the same daycare as them?
I have a few pre-school memories. I still recall a few preschool friends (a girl named Anamarija was my best friend and I never saw her again once I started elementary school and Maja, who I’m still in touch with) and the things we did (Anamarija and I loved to dance to Abba). But I was between 3 and 6, not three and a half. Eventually, they’d all go their respective ways once pre-K starts, but that would be in two years, not now.
I’m probably overthinking this.
Then what if he loses himself in this new pre-school, in the sea of 18 kids? His current daycare class totals some 10 kids, and the entire place has, if, 30 kids. The new place has four classrooms of 18 kids. He seems to thrive better in small groups and one-on-one than is big group settings. What is the transition is too hard? What if he doesn’t like it? What if the teachers don’t like him?
Maybe that’s what it is, what if he gets rejected? He’s sensitive; he’s not a “go-getter” kid like Bella or Seger.
Again, maybe I’m projecting myself, my sensitivities, my experiences into this.
And then we need to tell the daycare that he’s leaving. Andy gave Ms. Rosa a heads up a few weeks ago about him leaving, while I told Ms. Claudette back in spring that Ivan will start full time in September. And now we’re leaving. I can’t talk to them. Andy will have to. I don’t want to tell them that we’re leaving. I feel like we’ll abandon them, and that they’ll never get the four year-old classroom off the ground. I know this shouldn’t be my concern, but it is.
So in the end, why are we moving him to Maryland: because that was the plan from the get-go, from way before he started going to daycare; because the place has a great reputation and is supposed to be a great facility; because it has to be now, or not at all, he couldn’t start next year; because it will be much more convenient for Andy (until the following winter when Allen will go to daycare, and when for one year, Andy will have to be shuttling both kids to two separate locations, unless I get a car and take care of Allen).
I’m the obstacle. Every time I think about it, I get paralyzed. I can’t make a decision. I get this gut wrenching feeling in my stomach.
It feels like I’m breaking up with someone, with daycare in this case. I don’t know why I’m so hung up on it. And this really shouldn’t be about me, but about Ivan. And I’m trying to decide what I think is best for him, and in the process, I think I have started projecting my issues onto this.
I’m sad that we’ll leave our daycare. I’m sad that Ivan will leave all the teachers behind—that he won’t get to see them and that they won’t get to see him anymore.
I’m sad that he’ll never see any of the daycare kids again. I’m sad, but would he be? Would he care? How attached is he to them? I know he plays with them and mentioned them at home, but how close is he to them? Will he remember them, will he care? Long-term, he probably won’t, although he seems to have a good memory. Short-term, will he be concerned what happened to them, why he’ll never see them again, and what if we stay in touch with a few kids, like Isabella K, or maybe Sashi or Dylan, will he wonder why he’s not in the same daycare as them?
I have a few pre-school memories. I still recall a few preschool friends (a girl named Anamarija was my best friend and I never saw her again once I started elementary school and Maja, who I’m still in touch with) and the things we did (Anamarija and I loved to dance to Abba). But I was between 3 and 6, not three and a half. Eventually, they’d all go their respective ways once pre-K starts, but that would be in two years, not now.
I’m probably overthinking this.
Then what if he loses himself in this new pre-school, in the sea of 18 kids? His current daycare class totals some 10 kids, and the entire place has, if, 30 kids. The new place has four classrooms of 18 kids. He seems to thrive better in small groups and one-on-one than is big group settings. What is the transition is too hard? What if he doesn’t like it? What if the teachers don’t like him?
Maybe that’s what it is, what if he gets rejected? He’s sensitive; he’s not a “go-getter” kid like Bella or Seger.
Again, maybe I’m projecting myself, my sensitivities, my experiences into this.
And then we need to tell the daycare that he’s leaving. Andy gave Ms. Rosa a heads up a few weeks ago about him leaving, while I told Ms. Claudette back in spring that Ivan will start full time in September. And now we’re leaving. I can’t talk to them. Andy will have to. I don’t want to tell them that we’re leaving. I feel like we’ll abandon them, and that they’ll never get the four year-old classroom off the ground. I know this shouldn’t be my concern, but it is.
So in the end, why are we moving him to Maryland: because that was the plan from the get-go, from way before he started going to daycare; because the place has a great reputation and is supposed to be a great facility; because it has to be now, or not at all, he couldn’t start next year; because it will be much more convenient for Andy (until the following winter when Allen will go to daycare, and when for one year, Andy will have to be shuttling both kids to two separate locations, unless I get a car and take care of Allen).
Monday, August 16, 2010
Playdate with Sashi
As Ivan became more verbal over the summer and moved away from the toddler “parallel” play to actual social play with other kids , he started talking about other kids at daycare.
He mentions Sashi, Creighton (both of whom are always trying to “get him,” what ever that means. I think it’s catch him or it’s some sort of three year-old game they play), Isabella Creuse, Emma, Margaret, Erica, etc. But most often he talks about Sashi.
For the last few weeks, we talked about inviting Sashi over for a playdate. We talked about it on several occasions and it took me much longer to invite them over due to extenuating circumstances, such as not being able to invite people to come over in July during the heat-wav e month with our broken air conditioner. And every time Ivan got really excited.
“Sashi will come over to my house?” he’d ask.
“Sashi will come over and see all this,” he said, extending his arms in a sweeping motion toward the living room , he said at another occasion.
Sashi and his mom came over yesterday. It was a rainy, drizzly, ugly day.
Ivan was so excited. Sashi was shy, and was glued to his mom. He kept saying that he wanted to go home.
And Ivan tried to pull out all the stops for him. He wasn’t shy, or bossy, or correcting him (to play correctly with toys), but was all exuberant , hyper, happy, etc. I had never seen him act like that when another kid was over. (For example, Leila and Yulia came over on Friday, and while he played with Leila, he trying to correct her how to properly play with toys. )
And Sashi couldn’t have cared less. We tried putting together train tracks, but Sashi balked.
“Mama, Sashi’s not playing with me,” Ivan came over to inform me. We tried this, we tried that. I finally brought out the bowling pins. They both liked that and took turns. Then they danced a bit. Then I suggested that Ivan shows Sashi his big trucks out on the porch.
In the end they played a bit, but it was really a lukewarm, mom-facilitated, almost contrived playdate. The two times when Isabella K. came over to play, Ivan and she immediately started playing. There was no warm up time. I expected the same with Sashi.
We went to Sashi’s birthday party two months ago, and while Ivan took a little bit of time to warm up—mainly because we arrived later, post-nap time, when the party was already in full swing and all the kids were there—we were the last ones to leave. He wouldn’t leave, but wanted to play, and play with Sashi.
I don’t know whether Ivan cared, or how much he noticed that Sashi didn’t care to play with him as much yesterday. But I was devastated. Since Ivan talks so often about him, and since they played nicely at Sashi’s house, I assumed this would be an awesome playdate and that they’re friends. Maybe not.
Sashi’s mom mentioned that the day before he went with Creighton and his parents to see a play. And on another occasion, I recall Andy saying that Sashi was going over to Creighton’s house to play after daycare. At their classroom table, Ivan sits in between Sashi and Creighton. They both turned four this summer, while Ivan is barely three and a half.
So now I’m thinking that maybe Ivan isn’t really friends with them, or more precisely that they’re not friends with him—but that he’s impressed with them, because they’re big boys, and that he wants to be friends with them.
Who knows. Asking him hasn’t really yielded a clear answer. Whenever we ask Ivan who his friend is and with whom me plays at daycare, we really don’t get an answer. Ms. Rosa says he plays with everybody, and leaves it at that. Last week, Andy asked Ms. Norma, who said that Ivan plays with girls a lot—which I can see because he’s not really the rough and tumble kind of kid—and with Dylan. I remember noticing at Sashi’s birthday party that Ivan and Dylan sat together to eat their cake and were making some funny faced and cracking jokes (something about some bug on the window), but oddly enough I don’t ever recall Ivan mentioning Dylan.
I just don’t want Ivan to be wanting to be friends with Sashi and Creighton, but that the two of them don’t care. Maybe I’m just projecting my insecurities into this. Maybe boys don’t think like this. Maybe three year-old boys don’t think like this. Or maybe Ivan doesn’t nor will ever think like this.
It’s just that both Andy and I would like him to have a friend, a little playmate. We will try to have another playdate with Sashi. I will also invite Dylan over and see what happens. Although, does it even matter now, since he will more than likely be leaving this daycare for MD’s preschool in two weeks (and this is an entire another issue for me) and will never see these boys again.
None of the kids we know outside of daycare really have the same personality as Ivan. He plays with Bella, Leila and all other girls, but none of one of them really meshes with him. There’s Seger, but the two of them are planets apart. I don’t think they’ve ever played together on the playground, they’re so different. For a while, Ethan and Ivan seemed to be getting along, but Ethan is even more whiney and shy than Ivan. Mateo and Robbie seemed to have personalities similar to Ivan, but Mateo has moved away and we never see Robbie. Ivan and Ramon played nicely and hit it off right away last time Lisa and Ramon came over, but Ramon is too hyper and extroverted for him. Of all the boys I can think, he played best with Sam, but since we rarely see them, trying to engineer those playdates would be a stretch.
At soccer this past spring, there were two little boys who were inseparable. One of their dads said they were best friends and did everything together. Both Andy and I separately noted that we’d like Ivan to have a little buddy like that. But I guess it has to come naturally. It can’t be forced. And, who knows, Ivan may just not care. He does seem to have a pretty willful and independent streak. And, of course, he now has Allen.
He mentions Sashi, Creighton (both of whom are always trying to “get him,” what ever that means. I think it’s catch him or it’s some sort of three year-old game they play), Isabella Creuse, Emma, Margaret, Erica, etc. But most often he talks about Sashi.
For the last few weeks, we talked about inviting Sashi over for a playdate. We talked about it on several occasions and it took me much longer to invite them over due to extenuating circumstances, such as not being able to invite people to come over in July during the heat-wav e month with our broken air conditioner. And every time Ivan got really excited.
“Sashi will come over to my house?” he’d ask.
“Sashi will come over and see all this,” he said, extending his arms in a sweeping motion toward the living room , he said at another occasion.
Sashi and his mom came over yesterday. It was a rainy, drizzly, ugly day.
Ivan was so excited. Sashi was shy, and was glued to his mom. He kept saying that he wanted to go home.
And Ivan tried to pull out all the stops for him. He wasn’t shy, or bossy, or correcting him (to play correctly with toys), but was all exuberant , hyper, happy, etc. I had never seen him act like that when another kid was over. (For example, Leila and Yulia came over on Friday, and while he played with Leila, he trying to correct her how to properly play with toys. )
And Sashi couldn’t have cared less. We tried putting together train tracks, but Sashi balked.
“Mama, Sashi’s not playing with me,” Ivan came over to inform me. We tried this, we tried that. I finally brought out the bowling pins. They both liked that and took turns. Then they danced a bit. Then I suggested that Ivan shows Sashi his big trucks out on the porch.
In the end they played a bit, but it was really a lukewarm, mom-facilitated, almost contrived playdate. The two times when Isabella K. came over to play, Ivan and she immediately started playing. There was no warm up time. I expected the same with Sashi.
We went to Sashi’s birthday party two months ago, and while Ivan took a little bit of time to warm up—mainly because we arrived later, post-nap time, when the party was already in full swing and all the kids were there—we were the last ones to leave. He wouldn’t leave, but wanted to play, and play with Sashi.
I don’t know whether Ivan cared, or how much he noticed that Sashi didn’t care to play with him as much yesterday. But I was devastated. Since Ivan talks so often about him, and since they played nicely at Sashi’s house, I assumed this would be an awesome playdate and that they’re friends. Maybe not.
Sashi’s mom mentioned that the day before he went with Creighton and his parents to see a play. And on another occasion, I recall Andy saying that Sashi was going over to Creighton’s house to play after daycare. At their classroom table, Ivan sits in between Sashi and Creighton. They both turned four this summer, while Ivan is barely three and a half.
So now I’m thinking that maybe Ivan isn’t really friends with them, or more precisely that they’re not friends with him—but that he’s impressed with them, because they’re big boys, and that he wants to be friends with them.
Who knows. Asking him hasn’t really yielded a clear answer. Whenever we ask Ivan who his friend is and with whom me plays at daycare, we really don’t get an answer. Ms. Rosa says he plays with everybody, and leaves it at that. Last week, Andy asked Ms. Norma, who said that Ivan plays with girls a lot—which I can see because he’s not really the rough and tumble kind of kid—and with Dylan. I remember noticing at Sashi’s birthday party that Ivan and Dylan sat together to eat their cake and were making some funny faced and cracking jokes (something about some bug on the window), but oddly enough I don’t ever recall Ivan mentioning Dylan.
I just don’t want Ivan to be wanting to be friends with Sashi and Creighton, but that the two of them don’t care. Maybe I’m just projecting my insecurities into this. Maybe boys don’t think like this. Maybe three year-old boys don’t think like this. Or maybe Ivan doesn’t nor will ever think like this.
It’s just that both Andy and I would like him to have a friend, a little playmate. We will try to have another playdate with Sashi. I will also invite Dylan over and see what happens. Although, does it even matter now, since he will more than likely be leaving this daycare for MD’s preschool in two weeks (and this is an entire another issue for me) and will never see these boys again.
None of the kids we know outside of daycare really have the same personality as Ivan. He plays with Bella, Leila and all other girls, but none of one of them really meshes with him. There’s Seger, but the two of them are planets apart. I don’t think they’ve ever played together on the playground, they’re so different. For a while, Ethan and Ivan seemed to be getting along, but Ethan is even more whiney and shy than Ivan. Mateo and Robbie seemed to have personalities similar to Ivan, but Mateo has moved away and we never see Robbie. Ivan and Ramon played nicely and hit it off right away last time Lisa and Ramon came over, but Ramon is too hyper and extroverted for him. Of all the boys I can think, he played best with Sam, but since we rarely see them, trying to engineer those playdates would be a stretch.
At soccer this past spring, there were two little boys who were inseparable. One of their dads said they were best friends and did everything together. Both Andy and I separately noted that we’d like Ivan to have a little buddy like that. But I guess it has to come naturally. It can’t be forced. And, who knows, Ivan may just not care. He does seem to have a pretty willful and independent streak. And, of course, he now has Allen.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Then snakes will come out of there
While Ivan has stopped talking about bunnies for a while, he's been talking about snakes.
"I eat snakes like this," he tells me, spooning air with his hand and putting it in his mouth.
It's a game he's been playing a lot lately.
He's told me the following sequence of events:
:Then snakes will come out of there, then they go into the woods, worms are there, then they'll eat worms. That's why I need to get them."
"I eat snakes like this," he tells me, spooning air with his hand and putting it in his mouth.
It's a game he's been playing a lot lately.
He's told me the following sequence of events:
:Then snakes will come out of there, then they go into the woods, worms are there, then they'll eat worms. That's why I need to get them."
Allen's Song
Ivan sang Allen's song for Andy:
"Allen stays home, Allen stays in his car seat,..."
That's all he had, Andy said. However, Ivan didn't want to sing it for me. So I haven't actually heard it yet.
However, I think it's hilarious that Ivan has composed a song for Allen.
"Allen stays home, Allen stays in his car seat,..."
That's all he had, Andy said. However, Ivan didn't want to sing it for me. So I haven't actually heard it yet.
However, I think it's hilarious that Ivan has composed a song for Allen.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Meeting the Man
Ivan has finally met the Man. The mythical "Man fix it" that he's been referring for the last year, ever since he's learned the "broken" concept and "man come 'fake' it.
The Man in question was a Comcast technician, who came to fix our Internet, which has been out for the last month.
The boys and I have been staying with my parents since the last weekend until our airconditioner gets fixed. (I feel like we're back in the early 20th century, without the A/C and the internet.) But Ivan has been missing our house, actually his toys, mainly his playdoh, not the house, so Andy took him to the house to wait for the Comcast guy.
Eventually, the Man came. And Ivan got to meet the Man. Ivan followed the Man and Andy around the house to see what they were doing, Andy said. (I wonder whether he continously asked him, "what's you're doing? Oh, you're fixing it."
The Man in question was a Comcast technician, who came to fix our Internet, which has been out for the last month.
The boys and I have been staying with my parents since the last weekend until our airconditioner gets fixed. (I feel like we're back in the early 20th century, without the A/C and the internet.) But Ivan has been missing our house, actually his toys, mainly his playdoh, not the house, so Andy took him to the house to wait for the Comcast guy.
Eventually, the Man came. And Ivan got to meet the Man. Ivan followed the Man and Andy around the house to see what they were doing, Andy said. (I wonder whether he continously asked him, "what's you're doing? Oh, you're fixing it."
Song for Allen
"I have a song for Allen," Ivan told us today.
"It goes, Allen stays home."
Can you sing it for us, I asked.
"No, I'll sing it later," Ivan said.
"It goes, Allen stays home."
Can you sing it for us, I asked.
"No, I'll sing it later," Ivan said.
The Big Cricket
Three year-olds fears continue to kick in.
For the last few days, Ivan has been telling us that he is afraid of the Big Cricket.
"The Big Cricket is outside and that's why we must close the doors," he tells me in the evening.
I'm not sure where this is coming from, or why it is a cricket.
We have a bunch of little crickets living in the basement. Ivan has seen them, but has never made a big deal about them. He knows them and he likes them. Andy tells him to leave them alone. These crickets have been living under Andy's special protection since we moved in here. If it were up to me, they'd all be out in the yard. Both them and spiders, but no, they have some special provisions under Andy.
Maybe it's from cartoons or fairy tales, both of which he’s been watching/reading more lately.
In any case, although I think is hilarious that he’s afraid of a cricket, and a big one for that matter, I acknowledge his fear and we talk about it. I know it’s nothing to laugh about.
For the last few days, Ivan has been telling us that he is afraid of the Big Cricket.
"The Big Cricket is outside and that's why we must close the doors," he tells me in the evening.
I'm not sure where this is coming from, or why it is a cricket.
We have a bunch of little crickets living in the basement. Ivan has seen them, but has never made a big deal about them. He knows them and he likes them. Andy tells him to leave them alone. These crickets have been living under Andy's special protection since we moved in here. If it were up to me, they'd all be out in the yard. Both them and spiders, but no, they have some special provisions under Andy.
Maybe it's from cartoons or fairy tales, both of which he’s been watching/reading more lately.
In any case, although I think is hilarious that he’s afraid of a cricket, and a big one for that matter, I acknowledge his fear and we talk about it. I know it’s nothing to laugh about.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Scared of Thunder
"Mama, close the window, close the window," Ivan hurriedly asked me earlier tonight as a storm was approaching, and the sky was rumbling with thunder and lighting.
As the first thunder roared, he quickly tucked himself inside the covers, although he usually prefers to sleep on top of the sheets.
"Close the window, the right way, mama." Not only did I have to close one window in the bedroom, but the other window across the room, the one tucked away in our walk in closet, which he could see from the bed. I also had to put towels up on the windows to block the lighting. We don't have curtains, but plantation shutters that cover the lower part of the window. They're meant for privacy and don't darken the room, and since they don't cover the top part of the window, they don't block out any light, including lighting.
So it's official. Fears are kicking in. It happens to three year-olds, parenting books warn.
Not even a few months ago, Ivan was curious every time he'd hear thunder. "Gro-o-o-m," he'd say, as we taught him in Croatian.
But then about a month ago, we were getting into the car as a summer storm was approaching. The sky was alive and throbbing with lighting and thunder.
"Quickly, quickly, open the door, get in, get in," he said as he rushed toward the car. He didn't say what was the matter but just quietly sat in the car as a downpour engulfed us a few minutes later. I couldn't really pay much attention to him as I was driving, but he was quiet and snug as a bug in his car seat. I also didn't prod any further not wanting to create a fear out of something that I wasn't sure what there.
Then last night, as a typical DC evening summer storm descended on our house, with ominous thunder and lighting, he went around the house closing the windows and doors--the porch and the front door. And we wanted those open.
As I was tucking him to bed and the storm raged outside, I could see fear in his eyes. "I'm scared, mama," he said repeatedly. So we closed the windows and covered them with towels. He "hid" under the covers.
The same thing happened tonight. "I'm scared mama," he said.
He wanted to know why thunder happens. I tried explaining that it's nothing to be afraid of, that thunder and lighting sometimes accompany the rain, and other times, they don't. That all it is, is two clouds colliding. I didn't go for the "God's moving furniture" scenario.
But I know it's scary. I was afraid of thunder, especially in the dark, until I was well into my teens. And I still don't like the torrential downpours. They're so abrupt and violent.
However, I do like the sound and smell of rain. I like the sound of cars driving in the rain.
I like to have windows opened and feel the rain cool a hot summer day, especially those muggy, humid days like the last two days have been.
Considering that our air conditioner has been busted since Friday, any pretense of cool air providing a temporary respite and attempting to lower the temperature in our overheated bedrooms is welcomed. Except that Ivan want to sleep with the windows shut.
As the first thunder roared, he quickly tucked himself inside the covers, although he usually prefers to sleep on top of the sheets.
"Close the window, the right way, mama." Not only did I have to close one window in the bedroom, but the other window across the room, the one tucked away in our walk in closet, which he could see from the bed. I also had to put towels up on the windows to block the lighting. We don't have curtains, but plantation shutters that cover the lower part of the window. They're meant for privacy and don't darken the room, and since they don't cover the top part of the window, they don't block out any light, including lighting.
So it's official. Fears are kicking in. It happens to three year-olds, parenting books warn.
Not even a few months ago, Ivan was curious every time he'd hear thunder. "Gro-o-o-m," he'd say, as we taught him in Croatian.
But then about a month ago, we were getting into the car as a summer storm was approaching. The sky was alive and throbbing with lighting and thunder.
"Quickly, quickly, open the door, get in, get in," he said as he rushed toward the car. He didn't say what was the matter but just quietly sat in the car as a downpour engulfed us a few minutes later. I couldn't really pay much attention to him as I was driving, but he was quiet and snug as a bug in his car seat. I also didn't prod any further not wanting to create a fear out of something that I wasn't sure what there.
Then last night, as a typical DC evening summer storm descended on our house, with ominous thunder and lighting, he went around the house closing the windows and doors--the porch and the front door. And we wanted those open.
As I was tucking him to bed and the storm raged outside, I could see fear in his eyes. "I'm scared, mama," he said repeatedly. So we closed the windows and covered them with towels. He "hid" under the covers.
The same thing happened tonight. "I'm scared mama," he said.
He wanted to know why thunder happens. I tried explaining that it's nothing to be afraid of, that thunder and lighting sometimes accompany the rain, and other times, they don't. That all it is, is two clouds colliding. I didn't go for the "God's moving furniture" scenario.
But I know it's scary. I was afraid of thunder, especially in the dark, until I was well into my teens. And I still don't like the torrential downpours. They're so abrupt and violent.
However, I do like the sound and smell of rain. I like the sound of cars driving in the rain.
I like to have windows opened and feel the rain cool a hot summer day, especially those muggy, humid days like the last two days have been.
Considering that our air conditioner has been busted since Friday, any pretense of cool air providing a temporary respite and attempting to lower the temperature in our overheated bedrooms is welcomed. Except that Ivan want to sleep with the windows shut.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Big and small
"Mama, I'm big."
"You're small."
"Allen's a baby."
"You have small teeth, mama."
"I'm big. Dada's big. You're small."
It appears that Ivan's focused on observing sorting things, even if they sometimes don't make sense. (Like, why am I small, but he's big?) Maybe it's just a semantic exercise. Maybe this is a reference to what they're learning at daycare. Maybe, maybe, maybe....Now I sound like Ivan.
In any case, it's been really humorous listening to him constantly classify people according to their respective size.
"You're small."
"Allen's a baby."
"You have small teeth, mama."
"I'm big. Dada's big. You're small."
It appears that Ivan's focused on observing sorting things, even if they sometimes don't make sense. (Like, why am I small, but he's big?) Maybe it's just a semantic exercise. Maybe this is a reference to what they're learning at daycare. Maybe, maybe, maybe....Now I sound like Ivan.
In any case, it's been really humorous listening to him constantly classify people according to their respective size.
'You're not my friend'
"Are you my friend, mama?" Ivan asked the other day.
"You're my friend."
"You're not my friend."
The first time he asked me that, it melted my heart.
"Mama is your best friend and is always your friend," I answered.
Lately, everything revolves around friendships.
Ivan friends and un-friends people, including those he doesn't know---like random people in stores who try to be nice and talk to him, but to whom he reciprocates with a scowl--all the time.
"You're my friend."
"You're not my friend."
"Didi's not my friend."
ETC...
Lately, Ivan has become preoccupied with friendships--who's his friend and who isn't.The first time he asked me that, it melted my heart.
"Mama is your best friend and is always your friend," I answered.
Lately, everything revolves around friendships.
Ivan friends and un-friends people, including those he doesn't know---like random people in stores who try to be nice and talk to him, but to whom he reciprocates with a scowl--all the time.
How Facebook of him.
As three year-olds get more verbal and social and move from toddler parallel play toward social play, concepts of friendships begin to play a bigger role.
Screaming "YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND," appears to be the biggest dis in the three year-old's world.
I guess in daycare--or any group setting like that--teachers probably emphasize the concept of friendship, saying that everyone is everyone's friend.
I find this so American, where the word friend is used so loosely and can indicate anything from a loose superficial acquaitance-ship between people to actual deep friendships.
The term "all your friends at daycare" gets used often by teachers and others, conditioning kids into thinking that everyone is their friend, even in those instances when they don't really associate or interact with another child. Not that I would know with whom Ivan interacts or doesn't at daycare. For some reason, it's hard to get an answer from him and, when asked, Ms. Rosa and Norma, say he plays with everyone, without singling out individual children with whom he plays and who could be his actual friends.
Eating Solids
Allen turned six months two weeks ago. We started feeding him solids at that time. Not really solids, but that cardboard-y, tasteless rice cereal, which I'm sure tastes even work when mixed with water, like I've given it to him, than with breast milk, and a few pureed veggies--peas, carrots, squash.
He didn't really like the cereal the first time I fed it to him. It was probably to lumpy, and not thin enough. He apparently has liked the cereal with milk, as my parents and Andy fed him. He was eager, however, to eat the pureed veggies. He doesn't know how to eat, so food's going everywhere, but he's so eager to eat and taste things. (I have to remember this when he's Ivan's age and is eating nothing but cheese.)
Earlier this week, when I changed his poopy diapers, I realized that the poop had changed. Gone is the liquidy, sweet-smelling mustard-seedy infant poop. Instead, I cleaned some think, hard stinky poop. The real stuff. And it made me sad. It made me sad to realize that the infant poop is gone, that Allen's growing, that each day, he's leaving his babyhood behind.
When I told Andy about this, he said to stop looking for things to be sad about. He didn't get it, I guess.
He didn't really like the cereal the first time I fed it to him. It was probably to lumpy, and not thin enough. He apparently has liked the cereal with milk, as my parents and Andy fed him. He was eager, however, to eat the pureed veggies. He doesn't know how to eat, so food's going everywhere, but he's so eager to eat and taste things. (I have to remember this when he's Ivan's age and is eating nothing but cheese.)
Earlier this week, when I changed his poopy diapers, I realized that the poop had changed. Gone is the liquidy, sweet-smelling mustard-seedy infant poop. Instead, I cleaned some think, hard stinky poop. The real stuff. And it made me sad. It made me sad to realize that the infant poop is gone, that Allen's growing, that each day, he's leaving his babyhood behind.
When I told Andy about this, he said to stop looking for things to be sad about. He didn't get it, I guess.
Scared of Fireworks
It ended up being a good thing that we basically almost missed the fireworks. Our plan was to hit the GW parkway just in time for fireworks and then pull on the side of the road during the show, right across from the Washington Monument. But unlike last year, when fortuitously this plan worked out perfectly, this year, we left Beth's house too early. Although we drove at snail's speed, and at one point actually pulled over until a police siren told us to keep on moving, we still had too much time until the fireworks. So we decided that, never mind, we'll just drive away. But once on the actual parkway part of the GW parkway, and left DC behind us, we pulled over on one of the curves from which we could see the Washington Monument. Although we were far, we had a really good view of the show, with very muted noise.
Andy and Ivan positioned themselves in a lawn chair next to the car, while I remained in the car, with Allen who woke up and was crying. Once the fireworks started, Ivan freaked out and got scared. He rushed to the car, sat in his car seat and shut the door. He was really scared. He told us so. I don't know whether it was the noise or the actual lights, but it completely freaked him out.
Andy took Allen out of the car. We were afraid that not liking fireworks and sitting in the car in the dark with a crying baby would create a bad memory for him. So Allen sat with Andy in the lawn chair and and watch the fireworks. He was very alert and taken by the show, Andy said. I watched the fireworks from the passenger's seat in the car, with the door open. Ivan, who was sitting behind me wouldn't open the door, nor would he come to sit on my lap. Every once in a while, he turned around to see the fireworks, but he spent most of the show, sitting in his seat and waiting for all of it to end.
I don't know what freaked him out. The night before at Jared's graduation in York someone set off a few very low key fireworks relatively close to the house. We thought it was magical. Ivan was scared. So the fact that he freaked out during the 4th of July fireworks didn't come out as a huge surprise. In the end, it was better we didn't get to park along the GW parkway right across from the Washington Monument as he had hoped. Ivan would've been really scared--the fireworks would've been so much more immediate and loud--and we wouldn't been able to drive away. Watching them from afar was perfect.
I don't know why he was afraid. He watched them last year and seemed fine with it. This time, he specifically told us he was scared, but he wouldn't say why.
We drove home. Allen fell asleep but Ivan was awake the entire ride home. I assumed he'd fall asleep since it was after 9:30. Then, as we pulled into our driveway, the Takoma Park (or some other local) fireworks went off. We couldn't actually see them, but we saw flashes of light behind the Nolte Park tree line. Ivan quickly got out of the car, and jumped at me. "Mama, mama, hurry. Let's get in the house," he said as he hugged me so hard. His heart was beating furiously. I don't think he ever hugged me so hard. I've never felt him or seen him be so scared.
Lately, he seems to be developing fears. It's normal for three year-old, so I read. Maybe it's their wild imagination taking over, or they're sorting out the world more and more, and are beginning to be aware of things that don't make sense. Or maybe, as they're becoming more verbal, they're just better at expressing what they've been feeling all along.
Ivan has told us on several occasions now that he's scared. He's scared of the "lion" carving on Andy's antique chair on our bedroom (actually, it is a really scary carving that kind of freaks me out as well), he's afraid of people (I think he just means strangers), he's afraid of running in the water fountain in Silver Spring (actually, being a cautious child that he is, that doesn't surprise me) and he's afraid of the water mist at the zoo (I really can't explain that one, except that I know he doesn't like water in his eyes or on his face.) He's also my child, and I'm neurotic and anxious about so many things. That's why I'm trying hard not to pass my fears onto him. I can try to raise him fearless, although I'm not. But maybe it's more an issue of nurture rather than nature. Who knows.
By the time we got into the house, the fireworks were over, and Mariposa was wagging her tail eagerly waiting for us to open the door. I thought she'd be scared as well, as dogs are also scared of fireworks noise but not Posa. To the right of her, we noticed a huge mess. While we were out, she had gotten into the bunch of bananas I had bought earlier in the day, and eaten all (5-6 bananas ) but one. While Ivan was helping us scold Posa (although he's not supposed to do that), he forgot all about the fireworks.
Andy and Ivan positioned themselves in a lawn chair next to the car, while I remained in the car, with Allen who woke up and was crying. Once the fireworks started, Ivan freaked out and got scared. He rushed to the car, sat in his car seat and shut the door. He was really scared. He told us so. I don't know whether it was the noise or the actual lights, but it completely freaked him out.
Andy took Allen out of the car. We were afraid that not liking fireworks and sitting in the car in the dark with a crying baby would create a bad memory for him. So Allen sat with Andy in the lawn chair and and watch the fireworks. He was very alert and taken by the show, Andy said. I watched the fireworks from the passenger's seat in the car, with the door open. Ivan, who was sitting behind me wouldn't open the door, nor would he come to sit on my lap. Every once in a while, he turned around to see the fireworks, but he spent most of the show, sitting in his seat and waiting for all of it to end.
I don't know what freaked him out. The night before at Jared's graduation in York someone set off a few very low key fireworks relatively close to the house. We thought it was magical. Ivan was scared. So the fact that he freaked out during the 4th of July fireworks didn't come out as a huge surprise. In the end, it was better we didn't get to park along the GW parkway right across from the Washington Monument as he had hoped. Ivan would've been really scared--the fireworks would've been so much more immediate and loud--and we wouldn't been able to drive away. Watching them from afar was perfect.
I don't know why he was afraid. He watched them last year and seemed fine with it. This time, he specifically told us he was scared, but he wouldn't say why.
We drove home. Allen fell asleep but Ivan was awake the entire ride home. I assumed he'd fall asleep since it was after 9:30. Then, as we pulled into our driveway, the Takoma Park (or some other local) fireworks went off. We couldn't actually see them, but we saw flashes of light behind the Nolte Park tree line. Ivan quickly got out of the car, and jumped at me. "Mama, mama, hurry. Let's get in the house," he said as he hugged me so hard. His heart was beating furiously. I don't think he ever hugged me so hard. I've never felt him or seen him be so scared.
Lately, he seems to be developing fears. It's normal for three year-old, so I read. Maybe it's their wild imagination taking over, or they're sorting out the world more and more, and are beginning to be aware of things that don't make sense. Or maybe, as they're becoming more verbal, they're just better at expressing what they've been feeling all along.
Ivan has told us on several occasions now that he's scared. He's scared of the "lion" carving on Andy's antique chair on our bedroom (actually, it is a really scary carving that kind of freaks me out as well), he's afraid of people (I think he just means strangers), he's afraid of running in the water fountain in Silver Spring (actually, being a cautious child that he is, that doesn't surprise me) and he's afraid of the water mist at the zoo (I really can't explain that one, except that I know he doesn't like water in his eyes or on his face.) He's also my child, and I'm neurotic and anxious about so many things. That's why I'm trying hard not to pass my fears onto him. I can try to raise him fearless, although I'm not. But maybe it's more an issue of nurture rather than nature. Who knows.
By the time we got into the house, the fireworks were over, and Mariposa was wagging her tail eagerly waiting for us to open the door. I thought she'd be scared as well, as dogs are also scared of fireworks noise but not Posa. To the right of her, we noticed a huge mess. While we were out, she had gotten into the bunch of bananas I had bought earlier in the day, and eaten all (5-6 bananas ) but one. While Ivan was helping us scold Posa (although he's not supposed to do that), he forgot all about the fireworks.
Monday, June 28, 2010
First Foods
Allen turned six months last week. I started feeding him solids. First rice cereal , which he didn't like so much probably because I made it too clumpy and with water instead of milk.
Yesterday, he got his first peas. He ate a spoonful. Today he got three spoonfuls. He liked it.
He's ready to eat. He was very eager to try it.
For weeks now he'd been observing us eat, trying to reach for our food, mimicking our chewing motions, sucking on plates, well, sucking on anything he can get into his mouth.
"Give me that food. Give me that food," we laugh that his eyes and grunts seem to say.
When Ivan started eating solids, I made all his food. Cooked it, pureed it, etc. I don't know if it made a difference, whether it was better and healthier, but I wanted to do it. It made me feel good to do so, although it was increasingly time consuming (who knew that carrots take forever to cook and purée).
This time I decided not to do it because of the amount of time it takes. But now I'm debating. Maybe it's not such a big deal, maybe I should do it. I feel like I should. I want to provide Allen with the same start I provided Ivan with.
Sent from my iPhone
Yesterday, he got his first peas. He ate a spoonful. Today he got three spoonfuls. He liked it.
He's ready to eat. He was very eager to try it.
For weeks now he'd been observing us eat, trying to reach for our food, mimicking our chewing motions, sucking on plates, well, sucking on anything he can get into his mouth.
"Give me that food. Give me that food," we laugh that his eyes and grunts seem to say.
When Ivan started eating solids, I made all his food. Cooked it, pureed it, etc. I don't know if it made a difference, whether it was better and healthier, but I wanted to do it. It made me feel good to do so, although it was increasingly time consuming (who knew that carrots take forever to cook and purée).
This time I decided not to do it because of the amount of time it takes. But now I'm debating. Maybe it's not such a big deal, maybe I should do it. I feel like I should. I want to provide Allen with the same start I provided Ivan with.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Actually
"Actually."
Ivan used that word twice today while we were on the way to daycare.
We cracked up.
The first time he said it, I thought I misheard him. But then he used it again a few minutes later, in a completely different sentence uttering a completely different thought.
Sent from my iPhone
Ivan used that word twice today while we were on the way to daycare.
We cracked up.
The first time he said it, I thought I misheard him. But then he used it again a few minutes later, in a completely different sentence uttering a completely different thought.
Sent from my iPhone
First crush
"Erika will like these," Ivan told us last week, as we were riding in the car to daycare and Ivan was sporting his new glasses. "Yes, Erika, will."
"Erika will come to my house to see my big machine," he told us on two separate occasions the week earlier.
A while back, I recall him saying thta Erika wasn't his friend. "Erika doesn't like me," he said at that point. (He said the same thing about Sashi as well. It seems that his friendship with Sashi is on and off. Who know three year old boys are so friend-oriented already.)
We think he has a crush on Erika. And Erika is really cute, too.
"Erika will come to my house to see my big machine," he told us on two separate occasions the week earlier.
A while back, I recall him saying thta Erika wasn't his friend. "Erika doesn't like me," he said at that point. (He said the same thing about Sashi as well. It seems that his friendship with Sashi is on and off. Who know three year old boys are so friend-oriented already.)
We think he has a crush on Erika. And Erika is really cute, too.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Ivan at Mimi's
Ivan's spending the weekend at Andy's parents' house. So far, so good. He and Andy went up on Friday. Andy spent the night and returned on Saturday, leaving Ivan alone.
The weekend has been so calm, easy and chill without him. We didn't know what to do with ourselves, especially considering we really can't go all wild to party (not that we're really such people, anyway) since Allen's home with us. It really made us where our energy and time go.
Taking care of a baby is so much easier than keeping up with a three year-old. Now, in retrospect, we can't recall why we thought that taking care of Ivan when he was a baby was so immensely hard. It's a breeze. I guess that's why it's called a second kid.
When I was on maternity leave with Ivan, I couldn't get a handle on the day. Like many other new moms had realized, I couldn't get a second to myself to take a shower or brush my teeth. I recall that I desperately wanted to go to one of the mommy and baby yoga sessions, but found it impossible to get everything ready to leave the house, not to mention, aim to leave the house at a specific time. On the other hand with Allen, maternity leave was a breeze. I was completely in control of the day. I was freshly showered each morning, I made dinners from scratch each evening, the house was organized and clean, etc....
But back to Ivan. He's supposed to stay in PA until Tuesday, or Wednesday. Let's see how long he lasts. Spending so many days and nights away from us will be too much for him. But since this was a plan that Andy and his mom hatched, I didn't want to get involved. I voiced my concern that that much time away from us may be too much, but didn't press the issue any further.
The weekend has been so calm, easy and chill without him. We didn't know what to do with ourselves, especially considering we really can't go all wild to party (not that we're really such people, anyway) since Allen's home with us. It really made us where our energy and time go.
Taking care of a baby is so much easier than keeping up with a three year-old. Now, in retrospect, we can't recall why we thought that taking care of Ivan when he was a baby was so immensely hard. It's a breeze. I guess that's why it's called a second kid.
When I was on maternity leave with Ivan, I couldn't get a handle on the day. Like many other new moms had realized, I couldn't get a second to myself to take a shower or brush my teeth. I recall that I desperately wanted to go to one of the mommy and baby yoga sessions, but found it impossible to get everything ready to leave the house, not to mention, aim to leave the house at a specific time. On the other hand with Allen, maternity leave was a breeze. I was completely in control of the day. I was freshly showered each morning, I made dinners from scratch each evening, the house was organized and clean, etc....
But back to Ivan. He's supposed to stay in PA until Tuesday, or Wednesday. Let's see how long he lasts. Spending so many days and nights away from us will be too much for him. But since this was a plan that Andy and his mom hatched, I didn't want to get involved. I voiced my concern that that much time away from us may be too much, but didn't press the issue any further.
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Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Mama I can fly
It was bedtime. We read a book, turned off the lights and were getting ready to doze off. Or so I thought.
"Mama, I can fly," Ivan announced, wide awake with eyes wide open, startling me from my slumber.
Mama, Emma can't fly.
Only Creighton, Sashi, and Ivan can fly. And Dadda, too.
Mama, you can't fly.
Mama, see I fly like this," Ivan said as he sat up on the bed, extending his arms to show me.
"I fly up up to the sky.
I don't fly down. Only babies fly down."
All that talk came out of nowhere. I was startled and amused. I have no clue where this fly talk came from, but he had obviously given it some thought. It must have been pressing on his mind. Apparently, there are some gender considerations when it comes to flying. Only boys can fly.
It cracked me up because when I was little I could also fly. Or so I thought. In an any case, I have very vivid recollections of how I used to fly down the street, and how I would need to take of.
Sent from my iPhone
"Mama, I can fly," Ivan announced, wide awake with eyes wide open, startling me from my slumber.
Mama, Emma can't fly.
Only Creighton, Sashi, and Ivan can fly. And Dadda, too.
Mama, you can't fly.
Mama, see I fly like this," Ivan said as he sat up on the bed, extending his arms to show me.
"I fly up up to the sky.
I don't fly down. Only babies fly down."
All that talk came out of nowhere. I was startled and amused. I have no clue where this fly talk came from, but he had obviously given it some thought. It must have been pressing on his mind. Apparently, there are some gender considerations when it comes to flying. Only boys can fly.
It cracked me up because when I was little I could also fly. Or so I thought. In an any case, I have very vivid recollections of how I used to fly down the street, and how I would need to take of.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Baby or Glowworm
Glowworm is Allen's buddy with whom he falls asleep ever since we transitioned him to the crib a few weeks ago.
They fall asleep side by side. I like to think that Glowworm's music helps soothe Allen. I usually press Glowworm over and over again until Allen rolls over and falls asleep.
For a few days this week, however, I kept pressing Glowworm's chest but he wasn't lighting up and no music was coming out. I was rather confused so I kept pressing it more firmly.
Until I realized: It wasn't Glowworm's but Allen's chest I was pressing. No wonder the baby was looking at me confused with his eyes wide open. That was the thing. The room was dark, and they both have round heads and big eyes...
And I had been living under a delusion that my life and recent return to work were progressing smoothly, that I was on top of things and that I wasn't frazzled one bit.
They fall asleep side by side. I like to think that Glowworm's music helps soothe Allen. I usually press Glowworm over and over again until Allen rolls over and falls asleep.
For a few days this week, however, I kept pressing Glowworm's chest but he wasn't lighting up and no music was coming out. I was rather confused so I kept pressing it more firmly.
Until I realized: It wasn't Glowworm's but Allen's chest I was pressing. No wonder the baby was looking at me confused with his eyes wide open. That was the thing. The room was dark, and they both have round heads and big eyes...
And I had been living under a delusion that my life and recent return to work were progressing smoothly, that I was on top of things and that I wasn't frazzled one bit.
Sent from my iPhone
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Ivan's Party Planning
We haven't been to a birthday party lately (like in a month, or so), but that hasn't deterred Ivan from singing the birthday party song, or just talking about birthdays--they always come with cake..and candles.
The other day, Andy and I were discussing how we are going to handle Allen's birthday(s), considering that they will fall a few days before Christmas--we don't want him to get upstaged by Christmas, although that's probably bound to happen, eventually--and more specifically, what we are going to do for his first birtday party.
Ivan got excited that a birthday party is coming up. Little did he understand that the party itself is more than half a year away.
"Maybe well have French fries for Allen's party," he said.
"Maybe and ketchup," he added.
Of course, one can never have too much ketchup. Or kepops, as he used to say last year.
The other day, Andy and I were discussing how we are going to handle Allen's birthday(s), considering that they will fall a few days before Christmas--we don't want him to get upstaged by Christmas, although that's probably bound to happen, eventually--and more specifically, what we are going to do for his first birtday party.
Ivan got excited that a birthday party is coming up. Little did he understand that the party itself is more than half a year away.
"Maybe well have French fries for Allen's party," he said.
"Maybe and ketchup," he added.
Of course, one can never have too much ketchup. Or kepops, as he used to say last year.
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Fixing it
"Man needs come fix it," Ivan says everytime, which is all the time, he notices broken anything when we're out.
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Ivan: More Sentence Constructions
"Mama, please by me that house," Ivan likes to say as we're in the car driving. I'm not sure why. It's not that he's pointing to a house (or houses) he actually been in. It's just random houses we drive by. I think he just likes to say that phrase. And the fact that he says it in a tiny, polite voice, accentuated with his use of "please" just melts my heart.
"I won't like it," has been getting a lot of use lately, especially when it refers to food I'm trying to get him to try. Exotic stuff, like fruit. :-)
"I won't like it," has been getting a lot of use lately, especially when it refers to food I'm trying to get him to try. Exotic stuff, like fruit. :-)
"Baby doesn't has teef. II have teef." It's always good to differentiate between himself and Allen.
Other than these adorable affirmations, Ivan's speech has gotten really good. He has started to use both the past and future tense, and is speaking in full sentences. Instead of just using the noun and the verb, he's started using prepositions and articles. He's also figuring out pronouns and is using them correctly. He knows when to use them and can juggle them correctly. I'm impressed.
One thing that he has yet to master are irregular verbs. He says: goed, broked, sawd , felled, etc.
And if we could only get his Croatian underway.....When he was smaller and less verbal (as were his daycare peers), his Croatian was more pronounced. He would actually use Croatian words. But now, since English is much more dominant, and let's face it, is much easier to pronounce and juggle grammatically, Croatian has fallen by the wayside. I continue to speak in Croatian and he answers in English. At least I know he understand me. However, I have yet to hear him say a full sentence in Croatian. As he was acquiring words last year, he used to mix the two and create a sentence half in English and half in Croatian. But now, it's just English.
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Saturday, May 22, 2010
Santa gets help from Easter Bunny
Now that both Christmas and Easter are long behind us, Ivan is getting his presents-giving buddies a bit mixed up.
"Easter Bunny must give presents to Santa Claus," according to Ivan.
He has also resorted to calling Santa on the phone.
Whereas before he used to tell Santa to "bring more presents," now he actually has a conversation with Santa. He doesn't say much but rather listens and appropriately interjects, "yes, aha," etc.
He also likes to call Dadda on the phone and talk to him.
He's had quite a few of fullblown pretend phone conversations with Santa and Dadda lately.
Sent from my iPhone
"Easter Bunny must give presents to Santa Claus," according to Ivan.
He has also resorted to calling Santa on the phone.
Whereas before he used to tell Santa to "bring more presents," now he actually has a conversation with Santa. He doesn't say much but rather listens and appropriately interjects, "yes, aha," etc.
He also likes to call Dadda on the phone and talk to him.
He's had quite a few of fullblown pretend phone conversations with Santa and Dadda lately.
Sent from my iPhone
Pee accident: who did it?; Allen rolls over
For his nap, Ivan fell asleep on the footstool in our bedroom instead of his usual couch. My dad transfered him into our bed once was a sleep. While asleep he peed.
"Medic peepeed on the bed," he told my dad when he woke up and my dad asked him about it.
He was embarrased, my dad said.
I have to say, that since he got potty trained in April, he really hasn't had any accidents. I'm very proud of him.
"Medic peepeed on the bed," he told my dad when he woke up and my dad asked him about it.
He was embarrased, my dad said.
I have to say, that since he got potty trained in April, he really hasn't had any accidents. I'm very proud of him.
And in Allen's news: Allen rolled over today. But it scared so promptly started crying. But then he tried it again. So he rolled over twice.
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Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Ivan: Example of Current Sentence Structures
"I want nothing else to eat, mama," when Ivan actually is standing at the fridge with the door open, scamming the fridge for something to eat (something being cheese).
"I don't like that," he likes to announce, even if it's something he's never seen or tasted before. It must be a daycare thing.
"Those are my favorite ones," is another variation on the theme above. "Favorite" usually being an item or a food that he has definitely never seen, encountered, tried, etc. before.
"Are you my friend, mama?" is a question that gets posed a lot. Ivan's increasingly getting concerned with who is or isn't his friend. I can't tell whether it's a three year-old thing, a daycare thing, or "mama's spending all her time with the baby" thing.
"Dadda be mad. Dadda be happy," he likes to affirm to himself when he completes something, such as eating his dinner, that he knows will please us.
"I don't like that," he likes to announce, even if it's something he's never seen or tasted before. It must be a daycare thing.
"Those are my favorite ones," is another variation on the theme above. "Favorite" usually being an item or a food that he has definitely never seen, encountered, tried, etc. before.
"Are you my friend, mama?" is a question that gets posed a lot. Ivan's increasingly getting concerned with who is or isn't his friend. I can't tell whether it's a three year-old thing, a daycare thing, or "mama's spending all her time with the baby" thing.
"Dadda be mad. Dadda be happy," he likes to affirm to himself when he completes something, such as eating his dinner, that he knows will please us.
Monday, May 10, 2010
"No"
To a three year-old, the world must consist of one large temptation, which 99% of the time elicits a "no" response from parents.
Over the last few months, Andy and I have both noted that most of our interaction with Ivan consists of us telling him "no." The scopeof "nos" is wide, from minor issues such as telling him not to pick his nose or wipe his mouth with his shirt (this is a recently-acquired daycare behavior, I assume, as he used to be perfectly able to use a napkin for at least a year now), to more phyisical ones, such as not to throw things in the house, jump off the couch, harass Mariposa, etc.
So we both try to limit our "nos," preserving them for safety-related occasions, such as not jumping of the couch, pulling on Allen, throwing stuff at Mariposa, etc....
A new parenting book just came out, recently reviewed on NPR, which instructs parents not to use "no." According to the book, whose title escapes me, too many "nos" limit the child, affecting his self esteem, creativity, curiosity etc. Kids apparently have an internal gage to know not to do really dangerous things that could hurt them.
I'm not sure I can embrace this approach. It's hard not to say "no jumping down the stairs" when it seems pretty obvious to me that he can't jump off the fourth stair safely. And I'd rather limit, if not totally avoid, visits to the ER. If , at all possible, I'd love to avoid bruised and scraped knees, although I know that may be taking it to the safety extreme.
And to Ivan's credit, he is a very cautious, not intensely physical child, who errs on the side of not doing crazy physical things I see his preschools peers undertake.
Over the last few months, Andy and I have both noted that most of our interaction with Ivan consists of us telling him "no." The scopeof "nos" is wide, from minor issues such as telling him not to pick his nose or wipe his mouth with his shirt (this is a recently-acquired daycare behavior, I assume, as he used to be perfectly able to use a napkin for at least a year now), to more phyisical ones, such as not to throw things in the house, jump off the couch, harass Mariposa, etc.
So we both try to limit our "nos," preserving them for safety-related occasions, such as not jumping of the couch, pulling on Allen, throwing stuff at Mariposa, etc....
A new parenting book just came out, recently reviewed on NPR, which instructs parents not to use "no." According to the book, whose title escapes me, too many "nos" limit the child, affecting his self esteem, creativity, curiosity etc. Kids apparently have an internal gage to know not to do really dangerous things that could hurt them.
I'm not sure I can embrace this approach. It's hard not to say "no jumping down the stairs" when it seems pretty obvious to me that he can't jump off the fourth stair safely. And I'd rather limit, if not totally avoid, visits to the ER. If , at all possible, I'd love to avoid bruised and scraped knees, although I know that may be taking it to the safety extreme.
And to Ivan's credit, he is a very cautious, not intensely physical child, who errs on the side of not doing crazy physical things I see his preschools peers undertake.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Birthday parties and cakes
Ivan lucked out today: we went to two birthday parties today, which meant two sets of cakes, with candles and happy birthday songs included.
At Leila's party --held at Wheaton park, with a train and carousel ride included--Ivan was the first one in line to look at the cake when it was brought out. He stood there waiting to see what will happen next and when we'll get to eat the cake. Well there is never any line, it's just Ivan standing there. Although today Seger joined him as well. So they stood there waiting. Finally, the candles were placed, the candles were lit, happy birthday song was sung, and Noel cut the cake. Ivan and Seger were the first to get their cake.
Meanwhile, as soon as the candles were blown out, Bella ran to the table to sit down and wait. She sat down to wait to be served her piece of cake.
Then at Papi's birthday party, Ivan "helped" take out all candles from their boxes and line them up. He then placed them in two cakes. He was very excited when everyone rounded up to sing happy birthday. With Papi, he blew out the candles. Actually, he blew out all the candles. It was endearing to watch him. He was beaming.
Then, after everyone ate their cake, Ivan decided it was presents time. So he took out all the presents and brought them to the center of the room and started opening them, for Papi.
Ivan has gotten really funny with cake. For the last year, as soon as I say "party," he says, "happy birthday, cake, presents."
And for the last few months, every time we have cake at the house, regardless whether it's a special occasion or not, he runs to the closet to get the candles. With Ivan, every desert time has become a special time, a cake time, with candles and singing of the "happy birthday" song.
At Leila's party --held at Wheaton park, with a train and carousel ride included--Ivan was the first one in line to look at the cake when it was brought out. He stood there waiting to see what will happen next and when we'll get to eat the cake. Well there is never any line, it's just Ivan standing there. Although today Seger joined him as well. So they stood there waiting. Finally, the candles were placed, the candles were lit, happy birthday song was sung, and Noel cut the cake. Ivan and Seger were the first to get their cake.
Meanwhile, as soon as the candles were blown out, Bella ran to the table to sit down and wait. She sat down to wait to be served her piece of cake.
Then at Papi's birthday party, Ivan "helped" take out all candles from their boxes and line them up. He then placed them in two cakes. He was very excited when everyone rounded up to sing happy birthday. With Papi, he blew out the candles. Actually, he blew out all the candles. It was endearing to watch him. He was beaming.
Then, after everyone ate their cake, Ivan decided it was presents time. So he took out all the presents and brought them to the center of the room and started opening them, for Papi.
Ivan has gotten really funny with cake. For the last year, as soon as I say "party," he says, "happy birthday, cake, presents."
And for the last few months, every time we have cake at the house, regardless whether it's a special occasion or not, he runs to the closet to get the candles. With Ivan, every desert time has become a special time, a cake time, with candles and singing of the "happy birthday" song.
The land of whys
As of two days ago, it appears that we have entered the land of "why's."
Overnight, every statement we make, every thing we tell Ivan gets a "why" in response.
A conversation with Ivan has become one endless neverneding stream of whys.
Overnight, every statement we make, every thing we tell Ivan gets a "why" in response.
A conversation with Ivan has become one endless neverneding stream of whys.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Friends
Elubody is my friend?
Mama, are you my friend?
Allen's my friend, mama?
Sashi is not my friend. Sashi and Erika don't like me.
I don't like Ms. Yvonne.
Mariposa is our friend.
Only birdies are my friends.
All my friends will come to my party.
The litlle white car had no friends so he had to go hone to play with mamma.
These are just a few of Ivan's proclamations of the last few weeks. They are very emphatically stated.
Apparently the idea of friendship and budding social awareness is big in three year-old's world. And allegiances who's his friend and who isn't vary from day to day. They are also often announced with no precedent.
At first, Andy and I were deeply concerned when he'd say that so and so from daycare is not his friend. This was before we realized the radnomness of such statements. Now we know he may or may not mean them. Or he probably does mean it but he just can't put into words exactly what he's feeling, so saying that someone is not his friend is his attempt of conveying more complex feelings.
"You're not my friend," he told Andy yesterday.
It must be the biggest, most powerful diss in the three year-old's world.
He also keeps insisting that Didi is not his friend. After some proding, he finally admited it's because Didi doesn't play with him. (Didi can't lift him until his stiches heal.)
Mama, are you my friend?
Allen's my friend, mama?
Sashi is not my friend. Sashi and Erika don't like me.
I don't like Ms. Yvonne.
Mariposa is our friend.
Only birdies are my friends.
All my friends will come to my party.
The litlle white car had no friends so he had to go hone to play with mamma.
These are just a few of Ivan's proclamations of the last few weeks. They are very emphatically stated.
Apparently the idea of friendship and budding social awareness is big in three year-old's world. And allegiances who's his friend and who isn't vary from day to day. They are also often announced with no precedent.
At first, Andy and I were deeply concerned when he'd say that so and so from daycare is not his friend. This was before we realized the radnomness of such statements. Now we know he may or may not mean them. Or he probably does mean it but he just can't put into words exactly what he's feeling, so saying that someone is not his friend is his attempt of conveying more complex feelings.
"You're not my friend," he told Andy yesterday.
It must be the biggest, most powerful diss in the three year-old's world.
He also keeps insisting that Didi is not his friend. After some proding, he finally admited it's because Didi doesn't play with him. (Didi can't lift him until his stiches heal.)
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