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."
Thursday, July 29, 2010
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.
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