Princess

Last week I was in my closet looking through my summer, non-maternity work-wear that I haven't seen or tried on in over a year. As I was trying on a skirt, Ivan walked in.

"Mama, are you a princess," he asked.

"Oh, I'm not a princess," I answered.

"I'm a baby princess," he then said.

I corrected him that he is a prince, not a princess.

A few days later, I brought it up again, saying "you saw mama try on a skirt and you thought mama was a princess."

"You are a princess," he said.

I didn't know that Ivan was aware of the princess concept. We did read and watch Snow White, but that's the only princess we've encountered at home. But at daycare, a girl named Morgan, whom I don't know but who must have transitioned into their classroom, had a birthday party. She had party favors in a princess bag. So that's were the princess concept comes from. I asked Ivan whether he knows the names of all the princesses on the bag, but he either didn't or wouldn't tell me. I could only recognize two--Snow White and Cinderella, or maybe that was Sleeping Beauty. I'm not sure.

Sent from my iPhone

Brothers Laughing

Ivan and Allen increasinly play with each other. Allen loves to observe Ivan to see what he's doing, how he's moving around. And then he smiles and laughs at him, these deep genuine belly laughs.

Ivan on the other hand, "loves his baby." He always wants to touch him, hold him, etc. He's been like that ever since allens birth . It's endearing.

Now when I put Allen on his jungle gym map or just lay him on the floor, Ivan goes to lay with him and play. Being three years-old, this play is sometimes rougher than it should be, but it's play. Ivan also likes to takes his red chair and sit in it or on the floor next to Allen when
he's in his bouncy chair.

They seem to be developing genuine affection for one another. And they laugh. Allen laughs at Ivan, then Ivan laughs back at Allen. Watching them, makes me laugh.

Or , as Andy remarked yesterday, "it's like watching Beavis and Butthead laugh at each other."

Friends

Socialization of a three year-old continues: Ivan has become aware of the concept of a "friend."

"He's my friend ... He's not my friend."
"'Elubody' is my friend."
"Allen's my friend."
"Are you my friend, mama?"

I know that the friend concept is something they talk about in daycare. I'm not sure he understand what that means. Maybe.

I've been asking him with whom does he play at daycare, but he goes mum. He doesn't respond. I don't know why. I guess he doesn't get the question (although "who did you play with" is pretty straight forward") or he plays alone, which I doubt.

And "the little white car had no friends so he had to go home to play with mama," he told me the other day about one of his cars.

Sent from my iPhone

Dancing shirts

"Look dadda, look," Ivan gleefully pointed to the white Hanes undershirts both he and Andy we wearing one morning last week.

"Oohh, matching shirts," Andy replied.

"Yes, dancing sirts, dancing sirts," Ivan replied, misunderstanding the word.

And then they started dancing in their matching dancing shirts.

White Hanes undershirts are our unisex sleep and lounge about outfits that both Andy and I wear to bed and around the house.

And ever since he outgrew his onesies last year, I've been dressing Ivan in those shirts to provide an extra layer of clothing in winter, or as an undershirt for his winter flannel pajama.

Sent from my iPhone

Allen: My Feet

For the last few weeks, Allen's been solely focused on trying to reach his feet, and, if at all possible, stick them in his mouth.

Well, he's finally achieved the first goal: he can grab his feet with his hands.

He's four months old today. Time flies. Right in front of my eyes, but unnoticed, that little newborn has morphed into an adorable, chubby baby, with perfect little chubby cheeks. I just want to gnaw on him. So I cuddle him as much as I can.

I was listening to him sleep last night. A very quiet sleep. The "snoring" he was born with is mostly gone. I'm glad I managed to record it.

Scaring 'Dorms' and other concerns

"Mama, I need to take dorms of hands and then we eat 'cocholate'," Ivan informed me the other day waving his hands while sitting on the potty in the middle of the living room floor.

Dorms, dorms, dorms, I quickly scanned my mental library of Ivan talk, in a rushing effort to understand what he was referring to, before he got irritated that I didn't understand him.

"Dorms, mama, dorms, look," he repeated.

"Ah, germs, I see, you have germs on your hands," I replied relieved, realizing that he learned that word from the Potty Power video (which did wonders for helping to potty train him, and which he now wants to watch as much as Mickey, and which Didi and Baka had to go and retrieve from the library after they returned it, or experience a major melt down). (Or maybe it was the chocolate reward system that did the trick, who knows.)

"I need to wash my hands, and dorms go ocean," he explained.

"Look, at all those germs!"

"Mama, stop vikat [screaming], you'll scare them!"

It's been slightly over two weeks that Ivan's been potty trained. It seems so far away. I really thought it would never happen, and miraculously it did, practically overnight. Just like everyone said, when the child is ready, something just clicks.

Since then, he hasn't had any accidents, apart from the first week in daycare, when he refused to potty there. Last week and this week, he's gone potty in daycare without a problem.

He tells us when he needs to go, or more often, he runs to the bathroom by himself to go potty. In the morning, when he gets up and comes running to our bed to cuddle, he gets up and without saying anything goes to the bathroom. I hear him clanking, so I follow. But he puts his toilet seat insert on the bowl, takes off his pants and pees.

He actually now prefers the topilet seat insert to the potty. Andy showed him to go pee standing up, so he's started climbing onto the toilet seat to stand and aim the pee in the toilet bowl. It's a slightly dangerous and messy endeavor, but I help him along. While aiming for the bowl, he sprays the pee everyone, before being able to direct the pee properly. And that's why we have cleaning ladies: to clean the bathrooms so I'm not worrying about that. I'm afraid that while climbing onto the bowl with his pants around his ankles that he'll slip and hurt himself, possible even fall into the toilet. And that would suck, especially since of his concerns now has been about being flushed into the toilet (and going to the ocean).

The question now is what do we do when we're out or in a place with no bathrooms: I'm for him wearing underwear, and if he has an accident, oh well. We clean him up and change clothes. If we're in a place with no toilets--on a playground or in a park, like at the arboretum last weekend--do what we do with Mariposa: have him pee/poop behind a tree or near a trash can, then scoop it up and throw it out. He's too little to ask him to hold it in until we get to a toilet. Andy thinks this strategy is gross and not-American. He's appalled. He suggests Ivan wears pull ups in such occasions. But I'm against it. I think that it will just confuse him and, actually, infantilize him. He's so proud of himself for learning to use the potty and for being a big boy.

He's even stopped wetting himself while sleeping. For two weeks now, I've stopped putting pull ups on him during the afternoon nap. He hasn't had any accidents. Even when he wakes up in the morning, his pull ups is dry. I can't believe it. I've been thinking how it's possible to train someone not to pee in his sleep, considering that the person is asleep. But, apparently, whatever brain mechanism clicks on to use the potty during the day, seems to work during the night as well.

Now, the next hurdle is teaching him to wipe himself. Actually, it's more letting him practice than teaching him. He's seen what he needs to do. But just like learning to use utensils to eat, or get dressed and undressed, mastering that hand movement takes time. A lot of messy time.

Hanging out at home

Today was Friday so I was home with both Allen and Ivan. We had a wonderful day. Ever since the weather got nice and spring arrived, it's been so much easier to take care of both of them. It's been such a joy (except when they both cry and Ivan whines). We hang out on the porch. There is no need to take them to the playground or go out for a stroll. The porch and the yard do the trick. I hold and play with Allen, Mariposa scans the street below barking at every thing that requires the obligatory bark, and Ivan plays. He loves the porch and loves being in the yard.

He spent the entire morning either digging around the yard with his shovels, and performing some very elaborate engineering/artistic/chemistry experiments involving playdooh, playdooh pasta machine, sticks and brushes, water, paint. He was preoccupied the entire day.

The other week, he spent the entire day in the yard pouring water in and out of empty flower pots, and then threw fresbee around.

On Mondays and Fridays I've been home alone with both Ivan and Allen, while the other three days of the week Ivan goes to daycare so it's just Allen and myself.

Day dynamics are completely different when Ivan's at home. I tend to devote more time to him as he needs to involvment and interaction at the expense of holding Allen and "ahhing" at him. Although now as Allen's getting more "awake," he's demanding more interaction and entertainment. I hope I'm not inadvertently inflicting some sort of psychological pain. From what I hear, every mom with a toddler and an infant feels like that: guilty at not being able to devote full attention to either when taking care of both.

When Ivan's at home, I also need to pay more attention to Mariposa to make sure the interaction between the two of them doesn't turn sour. Mariposa comes to him to play and check out what he's doing and inadvertently gets in his way, so Ivan sometimes provokes her, or plays with things that scare her, or tries to scold her, etc... in any case I need to monitor their interaction. On those days, Allen tends to spend more time in his carseat, swing or bouncy chair--none of which he's crazy about--than I'd like him to.

But on Tuesdays, the first day that Ivan returns to daycare, I feel like I'm on vacation. It's just Allen and myself and we get to sleep in and lounge....

I need go a work

As Ivan's becoming more verbal, is starting to reason and engage in imaginative and mimick play, he's been enacting some really funny scenarios (apart from the ongoing bunny rabbits saga). Here's a play scenario from last week:

"I need go a work," Ivan said as he dragged the cars suitcase upstairs to the crib room. He entered the room, then realized he needed to go and get "my two wallets," turned around and clancked the suitcase down the stairs. When he couldn't find the wallets after a cursory peruse, he lost interest but first said to himself that he needs to go to work soon, and went onto the porch to inspect the chairs and tables he had previously rearranged.

At least, unlike the last time when he went to work in his crib (which I'm trying to depersonalize for him before we move Allen into it), he didn't climb into the crib and spat on the stuffed elephant who's been residing in the crib for the time being.

Allen's doctor's appointment

Allen went for his three-month check up two days ago. (We've gotten a bit off schedule with these check ups considering he turned three months a few weeks ago.)

He measured at 24.5 inches long, and13 lbs 7.4 oz heavy, which puts him slighlty below the 50th percentile. So in other words, he's bigger than Ivan was at this age, who measured between 10-25th percentile.

Two more weeks of stay-at-home baby bliss

I have two more weeks of maternity leave before I have to return to work. And I'm dreading it. I'm dreading it more this time than I did with Ivan. I look at Ivan and see how fast and fleeting the last three years have been. Allen, being the second child with an older brother to look up to, will grow up even faster.
Their babyhoods are such short, almost elusive, periods and I fear that I will have spent them at work.
Since I know that Allen is the last one, there is an ominous sense of finality. This is it. If I don't pay attention know and aren't fully in the moment, these moments will pass for ever.
And that's when I start to think about maybe going for a third child. This has been at the back of my mind ever since I first held Allen in my arms. I was so painfully aware that his newborn-ness will evaporate quickly and unnoticable and had already started having thoughts of another baby. I thought they would go away by now, but they've been lingering on. Whether it's because I want a girl, a big family or something else, I'm not sure. Except that we're not set up for a third one nor had ever considered it until these thoughful now.
So I'm really grappling with the fact that I need to return to work soon . I do feel lucky that I have been able to take 20 weeks of from work and that I'm returning to a mom-friendly environment and a job I like. But I don't want to go back. I wish I could only work three days a week.
It's funny because I never really saw myself, and still don't see myself, as a stay at home mom, but I have been really enjoying this time with the kids,even though on most days it's rather challenging. I have also acquired/dropped some habits that myself from ten years ago would be appaled at: like not keeping up with the news, not caring to keep up with current events and not reading the paper.

Ivan Turns Midwestern

Last Thursday, when Ivan came home from daycare, his vowels suddenly became very drawn out and flat--snaack, maat, Saaam, etc.... Out of nowhere, he's developed an accent, a mid-western accent to be precise. Then on certain words which yield themselves to that specific New Jersey pronunciation, he's embraced that accent as well. Other words come out in Southern twang.

He's been toggling back and forth between normal accent-less speech and these myriad of accents ever since.

We have noticed that as part of his speech acquisition, he often repeats the our words and sentences to assimilate what he's heard.

But we're rather perplexed where did the accent come from. He must have picked it up at daycare. But from whom? Other kids? Or teachers? Most daycare ladies are non-native English speakers--either Hispanic, Ethiopian, etc--and for some of them it's more likely that they speak little or no English rather than have an accent.

All this makes the accent even more mysterious and funny.

Potty Training Done!

It looks like I've managed to potty-train Ivan over the weekend. He wasn't getting it Friday and Saturday, and kept peeing and pooping in his pants. But on Sunday, something clicked and voila!

He did great both Sunday and Monday at home. On Sunday, Easter, he and my dad watched this "Potty Power" video, a cute video which tells kids how to use the potty through songs and skits. Not for babies but for big kids! He liked the video and asked me to watch it again on Monday. I think he liked the big kid message. (So funny that "right messaging," a pr concept, is relevant to this issue).

On Monday, Ivan actually went to the potty twice by himself--once for a poop, the other time for a pee--while I was upstairs changing Allen. He didn't make it to the potty in time either time, but went half in his pants and half on the potty. The problem was that he's not that dexterous in taking off his pants. (Again, so funny, that such a basic human skill--taking clothes off, is something that toddlers need to practice to master, that it's not as innate as we think it is.)

He wore underwear to daycare yesterday and today, although he's refused to go potty there. Yesterday, he apparently held it in all day long (except for the nap time when he was in pull ups) so, on the way home, he peed in the car (at least the car seat fabric got washed). Today he had an accident at daycare.

But still... It looks like a success. It only took 11 months and one four-day long weekend!

Potty Training Continued

We're still working on potty training.

This week there were two breakthroughs after weeks of status quo. First, some three weeks ago, when Lisa and Sam came over, Sam had to potty and did it in the toilet, so I used the opportunity to show Ivan how Sam's a big boy who wears underwear and uses the potty.



That afternoon, after we changed pull ups, I asked Ivan whether we should put underwear on. I got an enthusiastic "yeah!" from him. I was excited. The next two times he had to pee pee, he told me and we made it to the potty in time. But for the subsequent few pees and a poop, he just did it in his pants, and didn't really anything.



Since that incident, I've been getting increasingly anxious about potty training him. It seems that he's the only kid left who hasn't been potty trained. The only other two kids I know of are Margaret in his daycare (but she's a bit younger and also a bit shy and awkward so it doesn't surprise me) and Robbie (who I'd think ought to be trained by now considering that Meg's a stay at home mom, which I associate with being able to fully focus on potty training. But Robbie must be like Ivan, totally not interested in it. I recall they tried to potty train him last summer when he'd pee his pants while at the playground and totally ignore it, just like Ivan. So it's really more a function of a kid than the mom.)



I've made it my goal to train him by the end of this month while I'm still on maternity leave. While I'm at home I have a four-day weekend stretch to train him when he's not in daycare, while when I return to work I'd only have the two weekend days to focus on it. And I really don't want to send him off to daycare without him being relatively solidly capable of telling the teachers that he needs to use the potty. I don't want to put him in a situation where he'll pee his pants in class, especially now when everyone else is potty trained. I think that would've been more acceptable in the two year-old classroom but not now.



So the two breakthroughs:

On Monday, after peeing his pants for the most of the day, while we were eating dinner, Ivan got up and ran to the potty, saying "brzo, brzo, brzo" (or some pronunciation of that word). I quickly handed off Allen to Andy, who was confused about the commotion, ran after Ivan to help him take off his pants and, voila, he peed in the potty.



I think what made a difference was the fact that we put to potty in the living room (in other words have the potty in the same room as he's in rather than in the bathroom) and talk it up as something he needs to do by himself. It's actually really odd that Ivan ,who wants to do absolutely everything "myself" and is rather self-sufficient, is so not interested in being potty trained. I must give credit to my dad for both of these suggestions, and I absolutely hate to admit it when he's right (and especially, since I'm constantly fighting with him over giving and not giving Ivan chocolate, etc.)

Then nothing happened during the week. He wore pull ups to daycare even though we told him that if he tells the teachers that he needs to potty that they will take him. But a note came home from Ms. Rosa saying that he didn't ask to potty even though they take him to the bathroom when all the kids go....

Yesterday, Friday, we spent the entire day practicing, but he peed and pooped his pants every time. However, unlike previous training attempts when he'd be oblivious to the fact that he peed or pooped (or at least would purposefully ignore it), this time he would tell me that he'd peed as soon as it would happen. "Mama, I peed. Mama, I pooped." So that was a minor achievement.

And then today, after some unsuccessful attempts, he said "Mama, I'm pooping." I scooped him up, positioned him on the potty, and voila, we squeezed two nuggets into the potty.

We were so excited. He was so proud of himself. We called all grandparents to let them know and make him even more proud!

It just so happened that my parents were on the way over anyway, so when we called to tell them about the poop, my dad promised to bring chocolate over as a reward.

However, two subsequent pees were done in the pants but still!

I also realized that Ivan knows the past and present tense--I pooped. vs. I'm pooping. So that's exciting.

So I have high potty training hopes for tomorrow and Monday.

Time out in thinking chair

"Wosa put me in time out," Ivan has told Andy on a few occasions over the last few days when he picks him up from daycare.

But then he wouldn't provide any more information as to what he was doing that Ms. Rosa would need to put him in time out for.

So, finally Andy asked Ms. Rosa. She was surprised. She's never put Ivan in time out--he's alwasy such an easy and agreeable boy, which we knew.

She doesn't even have a time out, but rather a thinking chair, where she puts kids to reflect on what they've done. And apparently, Ivan sometimes voluntarily goes to sit with the child put in the thinking chair to keep him company.

Andy and I cracked up.

Ivan's vocabulary

Over the last few months, I've jotted down some Ivanisms. While he's speech is getting better each day, and by now he speaks is full sentences, he still misprounces some words, etc.
So some highlights of the last few months include:

"We did it!" is his favorite exclamation, when he "helps" me do something.

"This gozings here" with gozings meaning going.

"That one don't works-king."

"I groped it," or "that groped" where "groped" stands "to knot" for the Croatian zagropat."


"I suck," for I'm stuck.

"Elibody," for everybody.

Zlicle.

"Nozes," which is adding English plural knives to the Croatian word for knife.
"Kremas" and "Kusingz," again adding the English plural to Croatian words for cream and pillow.

Examples of some recent conversations and observations:

"Where house going?" Ivan asked as after spinning around and making himself
dizzy.


Ivan: "Christmas. Buy new one,"
Andy: "Buy new one what, Ivan?"
Ivan: "Christmas. We need one. Dadda and II buy new Christmas."


"Need to keep the door closed zo that bunnies don't want to come in."

"Don't get me cold," after giving him a bath.

"I don't know who did dat."

And finally:

Nothing. Until a few months, when we'd ask him where he is and what he is doing, he'd respond with "I'm here." Then sometime in December, the response changed to "nothing." And now, the nothing has become a rather assertive and spirited "NOTHing."

So now we know when he says NOTHing, that he's up to something.

Muffin Making, Egg Dyeing, etc.

On Thursday night Ivan refused to go to bed but insisted that we make muffins. After I gave him a muffin tin to line with cupcake holders, we somehow managed to get him to go to sleep. When he woke up in the morning, muffins were still on his mind.

So we made muffins. It was really fun. He helped me crack and beat two eggs. Then we got the sugar and flour out. He was curious how come they look similar. We each had a spoon, we played a game where I spooned out 3 spoons of flour into the measuring cup, then he spooned 3 spoons. Then I did 2 spoons, then he did 2 spoons, etc. I alternated the number of scoops each time. So the measuring became a counting exercise. As I was pouring batter into the muffin tin, Ivan insisted that we need to add jam. (We did that last time we made muffins. We first put some batter, then added a dollop of jam--which he helped me do--then added more batter.) But since this time, I added frozen berries to the batter, there was no need for jam. It took him a while to accept that.

Since I had run out of big cupcake paper cups but still had plenty of mini ones, we made both big and small muffins. He spent the rest of the weekend, talking about big and small muffins, counting them, and doling them out to Andy, my parents and myself. Again, it turned out to be quite a cool little counting, and even adding, exercise.

When the muffins were done, he helped himself to several muffins (with the help of the little red chair, which he used to climb on to reach the muffins that were pushed far on the countertop). He didn't eat them, but basically picked bits of the tops off. I know from before that he doesn't seem to like fruit in the muffins, so I assume he must have thought that the darker spots on the muffin tops were chocolate chips not fruit. (The last time we made muffins, in addition to adding a dollop of jam, we put milk and white chocolate chips on top. It was my impromptu way of trying to prolong the muffin-making with him.) He didn't any of the muffins. We, adults, ate them all. (Really, I ate most of them.)

After muffins were done, Lisa, Sam and Lilian came over for an impromptu playdate. As soon as they arrived, Ivan went to get out his Thomas set, since that was what they played with last time. This time, however, the boys played with cars. Sam apparently likes to line things up, just like Ivan, so they got along very well. And the cars were well lined up in one straight line.

Then we dyed eggs for Easter. I had bought some bright, neon food coloring, and a dozen eggs. White eggs, unlike last year when I wasn't thinking and got brown eggs.

We mixed the dye and dunk the eggs in. We made some 9 eggs or so. Sam was more interested in waiting for the eggs to dye than Ivan, but that was OK. Later in the day, after Sam and Lisa left, and Ivan and my dad, who had come to visit, bought another dozen eggs, Ivan and I dyed another 6 eggs. He was really into it this time, helping to immerse the eggs, take them out, check on them drying, etc.

We also cut and tore tissue paper to place in a basket I had bought for the eggs.

I was so pleased. We had a great, activity-filled day.

Ivan kept talking about Easter Bunnies, and big and small Easter Bunny, saying that he's here, etc.... I tried to take advantage of the bunny arrival by saying that unless we all eat carrots that the bunny won't come. So Ivan and my dad bought baby carrot and hummus (since that was how I unsuccessfully tried to get him to eat carrots in the past), but he wouldn't have any.

The rest of the weekend included a swim class I took him to and an overnight stay at my parents' house. (After my parents' picked him up yesterday, Andy and I went on the trail with Mariposa and Allen in tow. Having an Ivan-free night felt like we were on vacation. It was peaceful and quiet, except for Allen's falling asleep cry.)Today, we went to soccer and then out to dinner to Macaroni Grill.

When we returned home, I noticed a few colored specs on the dining room carpet: While we were out, Mariposa ate all the eggs, shells included. Andy and I are rather expectantly waiting for that poop tomorrow morning. I wonder whether it will come out with pink, purple and green specs in it.

Since she got a hold of chocolate for Halloween, and is ocassionally known to devour a bunch of bananas (eating the banana but leaving the peel), we're so careful not to leave food out. Unfortunately, it didn't occur to either one of us that the Easter eggs are just that: food.

Balloon Popping

I went to daycare today to watch the kids perform what they learned in their music class with Mr. Dave (even though Ivan didn’t want to take part in it, but that’s a different post).

After the performance and the snack, some kids went home, while a few remained.
Isabella and Margaret wanted two balloons that were on their cubbies. One of the balloons was actually Ivan’s but I didn’t know that. It was on his cubby, but he didn’t express interest in it until the girls wanted to play with them. He was busy washing dishes and cooking food. (He kept washing dishes and cooking food for almost one hour. I even had to sit down in a chair he told me to sit in so he could serve me food. I couldn’t convince him to go home—neither the two minute heads up, nor the counting worked. Finally, I started walking out and he followed me.)

Isabella got his balloon and started playing with it. He turned to her several times and told her very seriously and determinately, “Don’t pop my balloon.”

Of course, Isabella eventually popped the balloon. Ivan started crying and dissolved into a meltdown. Isabella then started crying, and ran to sit in the “thinking chair,” in other words, the time out. Ms. Norma, luckily, had another balloon, which she blew up for Ivan. I went to console Isabella, explaining that it wasn’t her fault that the balloon popped, that she didn’t do it on purpose.

“They always cry, when they sit there,” this deep voice appeared out of nowhere, pointing to Isabella with a plastic saw. It was Creighton. He was so serious. His demeanor reminded me of those 1940 detective flicks. It cracked me up.

Everything calmed down. Ivan was back washing dishes and cooking, and absolutely not paying attention to the second balloon Ms. Norma gave him. A few minutes later, Alina, Erica’s younger sister who’s two, got a hold of his balloon. He told her to be careful not to pop it. She popped it. Ivan melted down. Erica went to scold Alina and told her she needs to go to time out. But she didn’t. Ms. Norma came to the rescue with yet another balloon for Ivan. This was the last balloon she had, so once it was blown, I put it on Ivan’s cubby. He continued cooking.

A few minutes later, Isabella started playing with her balloon. She and I started tossing the balloon back and forth. She eventually popped it. Meanwhile, Ivan continued to cook.

Allen: Three Months Old

Allen turned three months four days ago. He’s grown so much and is so chubby and plump that I no longer recognize the newborn he was. (Luckily, there are plenty of pictures to remind me.)

In the last two weeks or so, he’s discovered his hands. Now, a couple of fingers are constantly in his mouth. Not one finger, but three or four. I tease him that they must be really tasty.

He’s also starting to reach for things. If I put my hand in front of him, he’ll try to grab my fingers with his hand. He isn’t always successful, but it’s a start.

He’s also very communicative and engaging. He hates to be put down in a car seat, on the floor, in the swing but prefers to be held, talked to or walked around so he can see things. (Although lately, he's trying to talk to the plastic animals that are attached his swing.) And as all babies, he's very alert and intersted in his surroundings.

“The stock smile,” Andy says. When someone picks him up or starts cooing at him, he grins into this exuberant smile. It would be one of those Hollywood, toothy smiles, if he had any teeth.

Also, knock on wood, I shouldn't admit to this out loud,he has been sleeping through the night. I nurse him around 10-11 p.m., he sleeps until 4 a.m. or so, I nurse him again, and then he’s out until 8 a.m. Not bad for a three month old.

He also seems to be getting into the two naps per day schedule. I can’t remember when Ivan got on that schedule. It’s sad how some of these early milestones that as a mom you think you’d remember for ever so quickly get forgotten. Or some things are so fluid and barely perceptible on a daily basis that it’s really hard to pinpoint when did something happen.

That’s why I’m writing down all these blog/diary entries. In order not to forget.

Pre-school dilemma

By tomorrow, we need to make a big decision about Ivan’s pre-school.

One of the only prescient things I had done shortly after he was born was to put him on the waiting list for Maryland’s pre-school. This was done long before we thought of any practical daycare issues and long before I looked for daycare and enrolled him in one.

He got into Maryland’s pre-school, and we need to let them know by tomorrow whether he’ll be attending in the fall or not. And now we’re having second thoughts of what to do—whether to enroll him in this pre-school for the next two years or keep him in the daycare, which will function as pre-school as well. The situation is no longer as simple and clear cut as it was when I sent in my deposit to waitlist him two years ago. Maryland’s facility is beautiful—well staffed, well equipped, etc…

They’ve got money and they’ve got their act in order. (They’ve also been around much longer than our current daycare which is three years old.) It’s also top of the line--it’s affiliated with the school of education and it’s NYAC-accredited—and no doubt that the level of instruction Ivan would receive would be superior than at our current daycare. But it’s also much bigger. There are four classrooms composed of 18 kids, with two teachers and an aide.

Our daycare is much smaller (maybe 30 kids total), more shabby, and probably more disorganized, and less structured and formal. But all the women working there are nice and nurturing. They all seem to love Ivan. It’s like a small family.
When I went to daycare today, I realized that they have the same types of stations set up around the room as Maryland does: science, dramatic play, art, etc. but it’s not as well delineated and glitzy.

The problem is that the four-five year-old classroom doesn’t exist yet because the oldest children, Isabella, Emma and Creighton, are about to turn four this summer. So the three and four year olds are grouped together. There is a plan to establish a fourfive year-old classroom, but it would be in the basement, an idea that I don’t like. I’m not really fond of basements, especially in old buildings. Also, I don’t know who the teacher would be. (I forgot to ask Ms. Claudette.)
In the meantime, according to Ms. Claudette, Ms. Rosa, the current three-four year-old classroom teacher, works on different things with older kids than with younger kids to make sure all get ready for school.

Another issue is finances and logistics. Maryland’s daycare actually ends up being cheaper when calculated for the 46 weeks that it’s open, including summer camp, than our daycare. But Maryland works on the school schedule, so they’re closed for Christmas/New Year, spring break, and 6 weeks during the summer. All this time off could be a problem (although we’ll eventually have to tackle that issue once Ivan starts elementary school). Our daycare is open year round, save for a week in July.

So I don’t know what to do. Initially, I was for enrolling him at Maryland while Andy was for leaving him at our daycare. Then, after we visited Maryland, we were both on the fence, and now I’m more inclined to leave him at the daycare while Andy is for Maryland.

Then a related issue is Allen. He will start daycare next September, if not sooner, depending on how long my parents can take care of him. That means that Ivan and Allen would overlap for one year at the same facility. It may be nice for both to have each other at the same place, even if they’re in different classrooms.

To sum up, I guess the crux of the question is, what’s more important at this early age: good instruction/education or an intimate, nurturing environment where the child learns to socialize with others? I don’t know.

I hate to give up on the Maryland opportunity since I had been focused on it since Ivan was born. On the other hand, I also feel like we’d be disloyal to our daycare if we pull him out.

But more importantly, this is about Ivan and creating a good schooling foundation. I don’t know how disruptive it would be to pluck him out of one place to enroll him into the other, which will be much larger. Since he’s so introverted and is much more at ease in small groups or just one-on-one with other kids, I fear that he will have a hard time adjusting among so many new kids.

So what’s more important for a three year-olds development: to be comfortable and confident as he starts his schooling odyssey or be thrown into a situation that I know he’d prefer to shy away from and just learn to sink or swim?

Drowning in Baby Clothes

Although I'm still home and in theory have a lot of time on my hands to organize stuff, there are things I just can't seem to get a hold on. Like kids clothes. Not the laundry part. That's relatively easy, if a continuously ongoing task with a poopy three month-old and a messy three year-old. It's all the other stuff.

With Ivan's clothes, I'm never prepared to welcome the next season. Unlike some moms who apparently buy last year's clothes on sale for the upcoming year, I've been reluctant to do that because I can never gage what size Ivan will be when the time to wear those clothes arrive. My strategy is to wait until the weather begins to change and then go shopping. Except I'm never prepared; or alternatively, the weather here changes so abruptly that there are always a few days when I have nothing for Ivan to wear. It happened last fall, when the weather got abruptly cold and it was time to don a coat and long pants. Ivan didn't have either, and the clothes from the previous winter were too small. So one night I had to go on a binge shopping to the usual stores: Old Navy and Target.

The same thing happened again this past weekend, when the temperature climbed to the low 70s. Ivan had neither shorts, nor long non-fleece lined pants. (Luckily he had a T-shirt or two.) I knew that spring was around the corner and that I should've gone clothes shopping sooner, but since it had been so frigid for so long, I lulled myself into thinking that I had more time. So earlier this week, I trekked to Old Navy and Target to stock up on spring-wear.

And I'm not that picky with toddler clothes, but sometimes the stores just don't have what I'm looking for. For example, Old Navy didn't have any long (non-fleeced lined) cotton pants that I wanted, or anything other than jeans. Neither did Target, which had kakhy-type pants with the real buttoned waist as opposed to elastic waist. (I think that elastic waist is more comfortable for Ivan so I prefer to buy pants with those. "Real waist" pants seem to pull down his pull ups and slide of down his legs, which I'm sure isn't as comfortable for running and moving around.) The following night, I went to Kohl's, where, bingo, I found the loot I was after. And I stocked up.

And every time I go to look for boys' clothes, I'm stunned, and pissed off, that even at such young age, there is a dearth of boy clothes, compared to the abundance of girls clothes.

Then there is the issue of ongoing cycle of putting away last season's clothes or those that he's outgrown. Most I'm saving for Allen, while the dud pieces I never wore on Ivan, I try to stash in the ever-growing give-away pile.

Related to this is the issue of clothes received as gifts. Some are too small or I find them hideous and know that I'll never have him wear, so they go in the exchange pile, if there is a receipt, or the give-away pile.

With Allen's clothes, it's even worse. First, I was and continue to be stunned by the generosity of Andy's family and our other random friends, acquitances or colleagues, who have gifted us so much new clothes for Allen. Most of it, unfortunately, we didn't need as Allen can wear a lot of Ivan's clothes since they were born in the same season. So I have piles of new baby clothes (sizes 0 to 12 months) from which I didn't even take the tags off. Some I was able to exchange; most, however, I can't because I have no clue where or when it was purchased.

Even worse, some of the clothes that I do need but don't like the versions we got--like the one-piece suits that zip up down one leg instead of button down both legs-- I'm guilted into using. Since the life-cycle of baby clothes is so short, it's easier to deal with the annoying zippering than go out to buy other suits I'd prefer.

Then there is putting away the clothes that Allen's already outgrown and pulling out next size clothes. Considering that we (probably) won't have another child, there is really no reason to stow away Allen's outgrown clothes; I could give them away. Except that I'm not ready. I'm attached to those newborn suits and onesies that both Ivan and Allen lived in for the first few weeks of their lives.

So all in all, I'm continuously creating piles: clothes to give away, clothes to return, clothes stow away, clothes to wash, etc...