It's amazing what little things may become triumphs in the lives of kids and parents.
I mean, the first time your baby sleeps through the night is cause for a freaking house party. First solids, sitting up, crawling, walking, talking, potty-training...even non-parents understand and ask about these things at the proverbial water cooler.
But as your children grow, you begin to feel self-congratulatory for the most ridiculous things. And when you talk about them, other people probably look at you like you're a bit insane.
For instance, today my mom and I celebrated because E made it one entire day without throwing a hissy fit or whining or crying. A whole day. Now, those lucky/unlucky individuals among you who have never spent an entire day with a very spoiled, high-tempered, stubborn small child may not understand how blissful or terrible that one day can be. And today was blissful. No crying when nap/bed time came around. No screaming when we left the mall. No whining for cookies. (And before you judge, yes, he does get into trouble if he does these things. I have to be rather strict to offset my parents' shameless spoiling of him. But I'd rather he just didn't misbehave at all, so I didn't have to discipline him...) E was, literally, the perfect child. But people who don't have Mini-Me's running around (and even some who do) generally think, "That's how children should always be, you must be doing something wrong." Don't deny it, I used to think the same things.
And the very first flossing session E ever endured deserved a late-night call to Nanay so that she could share in our collective pride. He solemnly informed her that because he is now 4 (and NOT 3), he can hold still long enough for his teeth to be flossed. After all, "10 year old boys can do it, so 4 year old boys can too. But 2 and 3 year olds can NOT because they're babies." I mean, seriously, flossing is not something that anyone but your dentist truly cares about.
But these little things are so important because they still mark the passing of time for us. They are signs that our children won't always be small, that they're growing and changing right in front of our eyes. They're reminders that we should take the time to appreciate what is happening in this moment, despite the temper tantrums and bed-wetting that make us secretly wish our children were older. Because someday they will no longer call to us to come see that they put their socks on correctly or they made their beds. Days will be shorter, time will pass more quickly, and the things we celebrate will be so much bigger. And we will miss those small triumphs, because they were at the beginning...
Now, if only E and I can start having the sort of triumph that involves him staying in his own bed all night.
My slightly-insane life and times
5/29/07
The Stage Life
My parents, E and I drove to visit my little sister at her summer job in a nearby state today. She is a performer (read: singer and dancer) at an amusement park there. This particular park has several live shows that run during the summer, one of which is a musical revue focusing on rock and roll hits from the 60s to the 90s or so. They were having Friends and Family Day, so we drove 6 or so hours to see the show for free!
It was a blast! She's always wanted to do a show like it, and it was great to see her in her element finally! She did a great job and made me teary-eyed at parts (which is ridiculous...I'm so emotional it's sickening...). The kid made me proud.
E danced through the entire thing. He was sooooo excited to see his "Lulu" up on stage. I'm really hoping to foster this music love in him, and I'd love to put him in dance lessons, but I know there's such a huge social stigma that I'm afraid I'm going to have to just teach him myself and wait till he's old enough to take break-dancing lessons or something. Because, you know, boys who dance are cool only if they throw themselves on the floor and contort themselves into weird positions. Because that's manly...
ANYWAY! At one point, the cast were performing Material Girl and the girls were dressed up in the classic Marilyn Monroe pink sheath gowns and gloves, and they happened to be breakaway gowns that ended up as little mini things. And of course, they were properly utilized in the show, much to the amusement of the audience.
Well, when asked what his favorite part of the show had been, E said "I liked it when they took their clothes off..."
Just wrong.
It was a blast! She's always wanted to do a show like it, and it was great to see her in her element finally! She did a great job and made me teary-eyed at parts (which is ridiculous...I'm so emotional it's sickening...). The kid made me proud.
E danced through the entire thing. He was sooooo excited to see his "Lulu" up on stage. I'm really hoping to foster this music love in him, and I'd love to put him in dance lessons, but I know there's such a huge social stigma that I'm afraid I'm going to have to just teach him myself and wait till he's old enough to take break-dancing lessons or something. Because, you know, boys who dance are cool only if they throw themselves on the floor and contort themselves into weird positions. Because that's manly...
ANYWAY! At one point, the cast were performing Material Girl and the girls were dressed up in the classic Marilyn Monroe pink sheath gowns and gloves, and they happened to be breakaway gowns that ended up as little mini things. And of course, they were properly utilized in the show, much to the amusement of the audience.
Well, when asked what his favorite part of the show had been, E said "I liked it when they took their clothes off..."
Just wrong.
5/24/07
Random Song Lyrics
Nowhere Near
~Tracey Thorn
Dog days of summer
Heat haze and bad temper
And whole days of shouting
“Would you listen to me?”
See, I’m the one in charge now
What happened to me?
I turned into someone’s mother
Really someone should give me a uniform
Or someone should show me where is the door
Or someone should come around and explain
How it is that love forgets to speak its name
And then you turn on the news
And it’s somebody else’s news
And it’s always such bad news
And I’m no good with sad news anymore
Gets me running upstairs
To count heads in tangled beds
And someone tears up that uniform
And somewhere gently closes a door
And I’m right here once more
Crying, confessing, and counting my blessings
Don’t let go
Cause we’ll never know
And even when the sky is clear
And the moon looks really close
Well it’s nowhere near
~Tracey Thorn
Dog days of summer
Heat haze and bad temper
And whole days of shouting
“Would you listen to me?”
See, I’m the one in charge now
What happened to me?
I turned into someone’s mother
Really someone should give me a uniform
Or someone should show me where is the door
Or someone should come around and explain
How it is that love forgets to speak its name
And then you turn on the news
And it’s somebody else’s news
And it’s always such bad news
And I’m no good with sad news anymore
Gets me running upstairs
To count heads in tangled beds
And someone tears up that uniform
And somewhere gently closes a door
And I’m right here once more
Crying, confessing, and counting my blessings
Don’t let go
Cause we’ll never know
And even when the sky is clear
And the moon looks really close
Well it’s nowhere near
5/22/07
Imagined Slights
I hate doctors. They're snobby. And they don't listen well.
I hate med students too. They're pretty snobby as well. And they always act like they carry the freaking weight of the world on their shoulders.
But I hate blond wives of 3rd and 4th year med students the most right now. Or I did last Saturday. Now, this is a fair warning. This isn't a particularly kind post. And most of it's pure, evil speculation on my part. And I don't really feel this way about such people in general. But the point of this post is to illustrate a situation that may someday arise in your life. So mark it well and be prepared...
Last Friday was the last day of school for me (Praise the Almighty, Brother!). So on Saturday, the school holds this big stupid shindig called "Big Stupid Shindig" (I'm lying) for all the medical students and their families/friends/significant others/escorts. It started at 7 PM and ostensibly went until midnight.
Well, our families (see above) were invited, and I had already shelled out mucho buckaroos for my favorite babysitter (my little brother) on Friday night. So I decided I'd just haul the munchkin along for kicks. I had a long talk with him before we went about speaking when spoken to and minding manners and not running around, etc. And he was actually pretty much the best kid ever that night, and I told him so after we left. It's such a gift when our children behave precisely the way we want them to, when we want them to. Mainly because it happens so infrequently...
E was the only child there above the age of 2 (not counting the male portion of the attendees, naturally). And apparently, all the mommies and daddies of those 2-year-olds were SUPER PALS. All the 2-year-olds either had pregnant moms or siblings in slings, which I think is pretty cool. I mean, that way, you don't ever have to actually play with your children, because you just provide them with automatic playmates for life!! (And I'm kidding. My mom had both my younger sister and brother before I was three and a half. But seriously, we did have playmates for life...) But all the kids had long blond curls, whether boy/girl, and were dressed in that My-Child-Will-Grow-Up-To-Play-Golf-On-His/Her-Lunch-Breaks kind of clothing from the Gap or wherever parents find that sort of thing (personally, I think I must go blind when that sort of clothing appears before my eyes, because I have never seen it for anyone other than rich old men and their trophy wives. Maybe I shop at the wrong stores...). All the mothers had the same kind of haircut and the same kind of maternity clothing. They probably all grew up in the same preppy schools and took preppy dance lessons from the same preppy teachers. But I'm not bitter. I'm just saying...
All of the kids were playing on a raised platform at one end of the room, which was right next to the table where I was sitting with my friends. Some of the other parents were up on the platform with their kids, but I could see E from where I was sitting (and he's not 2...), so I didn't feel the need to be right there to point out the "horsies" out the window for his visual enjoyment.
Now, my child is very, very comfortable with adults (most of the time). He will initiate conversations with total strangers and is quite capable of holding up his end of the dialogue for a looooong time. He also likes babies (meaning, anyone shorter/younger than he is...so not that many people). So my darling boy was striking up convos with these trophy wives about their toddlers....
And they wouldn't talk to him.
It just about broke my heart, watching him try to get their attention and them turning away to rave one more time about the divine pedicures they got at this so-posh spa where everyone goes nowadays (now, keep in mind that I am extrapolating. But I'm still probably right.). Luckily, E didn't notice, other than the fact that he was being straight up ignored most of the time. But still. It hurt me.
I'm not sure why they wouldn't talk to him. It's not like you can't understand him when he speaks. And it's not like they couldn't hear him (believe me, that wasn't it). The only thing I could come up with is that they just weren't used to talking to people who actually speak in sentences (as opposed to their own toddlers, their very busy med student husbands, and their empty-headed friends...yes, it irritated me, can you tell?).
Anyway, for those of you with very small children: learn to talk to the older kids, if you can't already. It's not hard, I promise. I can carry on a conversation with E without even listening to what he's saying half the time, because he will talk with very little encouragement. Someday those kids will be yours. And you'll be the mom cringing in the corner as your child gets ignored.
I can't wait till E starts grade school. Can't you just imagine how hateful I'll be then?
I hate med students too. They're pretty snobby as well. And they always act like they carry the freaking weight of the world on their shoulders.
But I hate blond wives of 3rd and 4th year med students the most right now. Or I did last Saturday. Now, this is a fair warning. This isn't a particularly kind post. And most of it's pure, evil speculation on my part. And I don't really feel this way about such people in general. But the point of this post is to illustrate a situation that may someday arise in your life. So mark it well and be prepared...
Last Friday was the last day of school for me (Praise the Almighty, Brother!). So on Saturday, the school holds this big stupid shindig called "Big Stupid Shindig" (I'm lying) for all the medical students and their families/friends/significant others/escorts. It started at 7 PM and ostensibly went until midnight.
Well, our families (see above) were invited, and I had already shelled out mucho buckaroos for my favorite babysitter (my little brother) on Friday night. So I decided I'd just haul the munchkin along for kicks. I had a long talk with him before we went about speaking when spoken to and minding manners and not running around, etc. And he was actually pretty much the best kid ever that night, and I told him so after we left. It's such a gift when our children behave precisely the way we want them to, when we want them to. Mainly because it happens so infrequently...
E was the only child there above the age of 2 (not counting the male portion of the attendees, naturally). And apparently, all the mommies and daddies of those 2-year-olds were SUPER PALS. All the 2-year-olds either had pregnant moms or siblings in slings, which I think is pretty cool. I mean, that way, you don't ever have to actually play with your children, because you just provide them with automatic playmates for life!! (And I'm kidding. My mom had both my younger sister and brother before I was three and a half. But seriously, we did have playmates for life...) But all the kids had long blond curls, whether boy/girl, and were dressed in that My-Child-Will-Grow-Up-To-Play-Golf-On-His/Her-Lunch-Breaks kind of clothing from the Gap or wherever parents find that sort of thing (personally, I think I must go blind when that sort of clothing appears before my eyes, because I have never seen it for anyone other than rich old men and their trophy wives. Maybe I shop at the wrong stores...). All the mothers had the same kind of haircut and the same kind of maternity clothing. They probably all grew up in the same preppy schools and took preppy dance lessons from the same preppy teachers. But I'm not bitter. I'm just saying...
All of the kids were playing on a raised platform at one end of the room, which was right next to the table where I was sitting with my friends. Some of the other parents were up on the platform with their kids, but I could see E from where I was sitting (and he's not 2...), so I didn't feel the need to be right there to point out the "horsies" out the window for his visual enjoyment.
Now, my child is very, very comfortable with adults (most of the time). He will initiate conversations with total strangers and is quite capable of holding up his end of the dialogue for a looooong time. He also likes babies (meaning, anyone shorter/younger than he is...so not that many people). So my darling boy was striking up convos with these trophy wives about their toddlers....
And they wouldn't talk to him.
It just about broke my heart, watching him try to get their attention and them turning away to rave one more time about the divine pedicures they got at this so-posh spa where everyone goes nowadays (now, keep in mind that I am extrapolating. But I'm still probably right.). Luckily, E didn't notice, other than the fact that he was being straight up ignored most of the time. But still. It hurt me.
I'm not sure why they wouldn't talk to him. It's not like you can't understand him when he speaks. And it's not like they couldn't hear him (believe me, that wasn't it). The only thing I could come up with is that they just weren't used to talking to people who actually speak in sentences (as opposed to their own toddlers, their very busy med student husbands, and their empty-headed friends...yes, it irritated me, can you tell?).
Anyway, for those of you with very small children: learn to talk to the older kids, if you can't already. It's not hard, I promise. I can carry on a conversation with E without even listening to what he's saying half the time, because he will talk with very little encouragement. Someday those kids will be yours. And you'll be the mom cringing in the corner as your child gets ignored.
I can't wait till E starts grade school. Can't you just imagine how hateful I'll be then?
5/16/07
Strange Dichotomy
This morning, on my way to take my final Histology exam (Ever! Thank you, Jesus!), I was listening to my favorite morning radio show (radio morning show? I don't know...), which follows the usual method of bringing up interesting/inane/ridiculous topics of conversation and asking people to call in about them. Like: "What's the craziest thing your teenager's ever done?" or "What do you think about giving little kids their own cell phones?" Usually they manage to have pretty interesting discussions while snarking about everyone and everything under the sun. So, naturally, I like it.
Well, this morning, they were talking about high school graduation and how the respect factor has left ceremonial shows like it. At this point, they were saying that some parents are just downright obnoxious about their kids' graduations. You know the type, the ones who bring air horns and silly string to utilize the instant Junior walks across the stage, or who paint big, glittery signs that say "WE LOVE YOU, BABY GIRL, WE'RE SO PROUD OF YOU FOR GRADUATING FROM FREAKING HIGH SCHOOL!". (Which, I'm not deriding high school graduation. It's a proud time for everyone. But there are ways to celebrate and then there are ways to celebrate. Painting your hairy, middle-aged chest in the likeness of a school logo is not one of them. Save it for homecoming, Dad.)
ANYWAY! So they're talking about how their own generation (it's a classic rock station, so it's not like these people are college kids or anything) has lost the ability to regulate themselves or whatever. They brought up fights at Little League games, insane soccer moms, etc. Basically, middle-aged people are rotten. And old. They have no redeeming qualities unless they're radio deejays.
Well, then, all of a sudden, they segued into how terrible "kids" (meaning teenagers, mostly) are today, how they have no respect for their elders, etc. etc. etc.
Hm, where do you think the kids learned it? From that harbinger of evil, MTV? From those terrible people in showbiz today? Sure, maybe. But who are those people? The great majority of pop culture icons are not in the same generation as the greatest portion of their fans. The great majority of producers are not teenagers, I hope. So my generation and those behind me are basically being fed devil smut by the older generations. Sure, at some point, we have to take responsibility for our own actions, but if we're already put at a disadvantage by the way we were raised, isn't it that much more difficult for us to turn into saints (and no, I'm not talking about myself here. I am practically a saint, so I don't want you thinking things about my mama and daddy...THEY'RE GOOD PEOPLE!)?!?!
But the real clincher is that I don't think it's necessarily the fault of "bad" parenting or the fault of "our immoral society" or even the fault of "those darn kids"! It's really evolution's fault. Or God's fault, depending on which biologically developmental view you are currently embracing. (PS: If you're Catholic, like some of us are blessed enough to be, you can believe that it's both evolution AND God's fault...Good ol' JPII said so himself.)
WARNING: RATHER RIDICULOUS EVOLUTIONARY CONCEPT DISCUSSED BELOW!! DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE A NATURALLY SERIOUS PERSON!!
I think the problem is, that at one time, in our primordial past, parents had to make sure their children obeyed implicitly, in order to promote sheer survival. I mean, if Sally Mae asks every time why she has to come in when the vampires are roaming the hillside, Sally Mae's parents' genes are gonna die out pretty quickly. (Because, obviously, Sally Mae's gonna get bitten, and vampires don't have children, didn't you know?) So it was in the best interests of the gene pool to foster traits that enforced discipline and rules. Much like in the animal kingdom. I mean, there aren't many baby kittens wandering far from their mothers, right? Because if they do, they're probably going to Baby Kitten Heaven pretty fast.
However, at some point, the needs of the gene pool changed. Strict and ultimate discipline wasn't necessary for survival any more, and in fact, the traits of more lenient parents were (because those parents were just more likely to let their onry teenager live after sneaking in 2 hours past curfew, therefore leading to the propagation of those genes...see how that works? You now know more than they do in Kansas!).
And parents can't really help that they're so freaking excited about their kids growing up! I mean, what sort of evolutionary advantage does it give you to have your kids stay at home all their lives? Maybe in ye olden days, when people were liable to die a lot sooner, they didn't need any encouragement to get out there and start havin' babies. Evolutionary drive does a lot for libido. But nowadays, people can have kids till they're practically going straight from the nursing home to L&D! There's not really that urge to start playing the Barry White records at 18 any more (I mean, don't get me wrong, plenty of people still do that...right?...I wouldn't know. I'm just saying, the overall drive is different. Whatever. Shut up.) So people are complacent to hang out at home. And mom and dad are starting to evolve to where they want you out of the house so you can go propagate the species. So they make a big deal about all the big "life events" you're experiencing as a kid. I mean, come on, they have a graduation for kindergarten now. Parents even got the teachers in on the "let's encourage them to grow up and leave home" Master Plan.
My point is, next time you see a kid with his pants hanging down to there or a mom beating another parent to a bloody pulp with her giant foam finger...don't roll your eyes and blame society. It's really not our fault. It's God's.
Or biology's. Depends on whether you're from Kansas. Or whether you're Catholic...
Well, this morning, they were talking about high school graduation and how the respect factor has left ceremonial shows like it. At this point, they were saying that some parents are just downright obnoxious about their kids' graduations. You know the type, the ones who bring air horns and silly string to utilize the instant Junior walks across the stage, or who paint big, glittery signs that say "WE LOVE YOU, BABY GIRL, WE'RE SO PROUD OF YOU FOR GRADUATING FROM FREAKING HIGH SCHOOL!". (Which, I'm not deriding high school graduation. It's a proud time for everyone. But there are ways to celebrate and then there are ways to celebrate. Painting your hairy, middle-aged chest in the likeness of a school logo is not one of them. Save it for homecoming, Dad.)
ANYWAY! So they're talking about how their own generation (it's a classic rock station, so it's not like these people are college kids or anything) has lost the ability to regulate themselves or whatever. They brought up fights at Little League games, insane soccer moms, etc. Basically, middle-aged people are rotten. And old. They have no redeeming qualities unless they're radio deejays.
Well, then, all of a sudden, they segued into how terrible "kids" (meaning teenagers, mostly) are today, how they have no respect for their elders, etc. etc. etc.
Hm, where do you think the kids learned it? From that harbinger of evil, MTV? From those terrible people in showbiz today? Sure, maybe. But who are those people? The great majority of pop culture icons are not in the same generation as the greatest portion of their fans. The great majority of producers are not teenagers, I hope. So my generation and those behind me are basically being fed devil smut by the older generations. Sure, at some point, we have to take responsibility for our own actions, but if we're already put at a disadvantage by the way we were raised, isn't it that much more difficult for us to turn into saints (and no, I'm not talking about myself here. I am practically a saint, so I don't want you thinking things about my mama and daddy...THEY'RE GOOD PEOPLE!)?!?!
But the real clincher is that I don't think it's necessarily the fault of "bad" parenting or the fault of "our immoral society" or even the fault of "those darn kids"! It's really evolution's fault. Or God's fault, depending on which biologically developmental view you are currently embracing. (PS: If you're Catholic, like some of us are blessed enough to be, you can believe that it's both evolution AND God's fault...Good ol' JPII said so himself.)
WARNING: RATHER RIDICULOUS EVOLUTIONARY CONCEPT DISCUSSED BELOW!! DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE A NATURALLY SERIOUS PERSON!!
I think the problem is, that at one time, in our primordial past, parents had to make sure their children obeyed implicitly, in order to promote sheer survival. I mean, if Sally Mae asks every time why she has to come in when the vampires are roaming the hillside, Sally Mae's parents' genes are gonna die out pretty quickly. (Because, obviously, Sally Mae's gonna get bitten, and vampires don't have children, didn't you know?) So it was in the best interests of the gene pool to foster traits that enforced discipline and rules. Much like in the animal kingdom. I mean, there aren't many baby kittens wandering far from their mothers, right? Because if they do, they're probably going to Baby Kitten Heaven pretty fast.
However, at some point, the needs of the gene pool changed. Strict and ultimate discipline wasn't necessary for survival any more, and in fact, the traits of more lenient parents were (because those parents were just more likely to let their onry teenager live after sneaking in 2 hours past curfew, therefore leading to the propagation of those genes...see how that works? You now know more than they do in Kansas!).
And parents can't really help that they're so freaking excited about their kids growing up! I mean, what sort of evolutionary advantage does it give you to have your kids stay at home all their lives? Maybe in ye olden days, when people were liable to die a lot sooner, they didn't need any encouragement to get out there and start havin' babies. Evolutionary drive does a lot for libido. But nowadays, people can have kids till they're practically going straight from the nursing home to L&D! There's not really that urge to start playing the Barry White records at 18 any more (I mean, don't get me wrong, plenty of people still do that...right?...I wouldn't know. I'm just saying, the overall drive is different. Whatever. Shut up.) So people are complacent to hang out at home. And mom and dad are starting to evolve to where they want you out of the house so you can go propagate the species. So they make a big deal about all the big "life events" you're experiencing as a kid. I mean, come on, they have a graduation for kindergarten now. Parents even got the teachers in on the "let's encourage them to grow up and leave home" Master Plan.
My point is, next time you see a kid with his pants hanging down to there or a mom beating another parent to a bloody pulp with her giant foam finger...don't roll your eyes and blame society. It's really not our fault. It's God's.
Or biology's. Depends on whether you're from Kansas. Or whether you're Catholic...
5/12/07
Nuts Who Are About to Crack
E called me on the phone after my mom picked him up from his dad's this afternoon in our old hometown, T. They're going to stay there till tomorrow, seeing as how I'm currently trying to see how much studying I can cram into my brain before Monday and the Physiology final (went almost 12 hours today, it was amazing...And exhausting...). Anyway, so E called me and was chatting away about what his dad got him for his birthday. I was like, yes, yes, I know, your birthday was totally 2 weeks ago and you already gave me this list, I know your presents were fantastic. Enough already...Ha, kidding. But seriously...Toward the end of the conversation, I asked him if he had gotten me a Mother's Day present (which, I need one. And he likes to give me gifts. Although usually they come in the form of pretend food made from bathwater and soap bubbles...). He said "No..." in a worried tone of voice, so I laughingly reassured him that Nanay would help him pick something out. He apparently rejected that thought, though, because the next thing I heard was him speaking to my mom: "Nanay, I need to buy my mom a present. I think she wants a nutcracker."
(I have to explain: E has a rather peculiar obsession with nutcrackers, and he always has, from the time he was very small. He actually has 3 or 4 now, as I've been buying cool specimens (pirate nutcracker, knight nutcracker, prince nutcracker) since he was a tiny baby. Last Christmas, his favorite movie was "The Nutcracker Ballet" (the version with Macaulay Culkin, actually). In addition, he likes to pretend that HE'S a nutcracker, and he'll put on "nutcracker makeup", go as stiff and expressionless as a board, and open/close his mouth if you "pull" on an imaginary handle on his back. The kid has an imagination like someone on hallucinogens...)
Anyway, so he then returned to his conversation with me: "Mom, do you want a nutcracker?" I said "Sure, honey, I'll love whatever you give me." He then asked "Well, would you like a small one or a big one?" I reiterated "Just pick something out." E: "Ok, you want a big one."
Looks like a big nutcracker is in my future.
I wish I didn't have to work so hard at this whole med school thing (which, ok, I kinda knew what I was getting myself into...doesn't mean I have to like it any more). It feels like I get up, take him to "daycare" (aka Nanay and Poppa's house), go to school or to study, get home in time for dinner, and then it's bedtime. I hate that feeling. It's not really as bad as that, and I have the weekends, but it's still not like being a SAHM would be. Non-moms really don't understand the conflicts that pull us, do they? Anyway, I miss being able to spend my free time with E.
Scratch that. I just miss free time. Period.
(I have to explain: E has a rather peculiar obsession with nutcrackers, and he always has, from the time he was very small. He actually has 3 or 4 now, as I've been buying cool specimens (pirate nutcracker, knight nutcracker, prince nutcracker) since he was a tiny baby. Last Christmas, his favorite movie was "The Nutcracker Ballet" (the version with Macaulay Culkin, actually). In addition, he likes to pretend that HE'S a nutcracker, and he'll put on "nutcracker makeup", go as stiff and expressionless as a board, and open/close his mouth if you "pull" on an imaginary handle on his back. The kid has an imagination like someone on hallucinogens...)
Anyway, so he then returned to his conversation with me: "Mom, do you want a nutcracker?" I said "Sure, honey, I'll love whatever you give me." He then asked "Well, would you like a small one or a big one?" I reiterated "Just pick something out." E: "Ok, you want a big one."
Looks like a big nutcracker is in my future.
I wish I didn't have to work so hard at this whole med school thing (which, ok, I kinda knew what I was getting myself into...doesn't mean I have to like it any more). It feels like I get up, take him to "daycare" (aka Nanay and Poppa's house), go to school or to study, get home in time for dinner, and then it's bedtime. I hate that feeling. It's not really as bad as that, and I have the weekends, but it's still not like being a SAHM would be. Non-moms really don't understand the conflicts that pull us, do they? Anyway, I miss being able to spend my free time with E.
Scratch that. I just miss free time. Period.
5/11/07
Semantics
I really don't have the time for blogging right now, but to boost the number of "May" Posts over there in the nifty right-hand column, I suppose I should post something, huh?
Finals start Monday, which is why I've been in absentia for so long. Poor E has been suffering through day-long fun times with Nanay and Poppa. I'm sure he misses me tons. NOT. They get to do fun stuff like go to the zoo and go see "Meet the Robinsons" and play at the playground, while I sit in the bookstore and study. I'm so jealous.
Random story ahead:
My dad bought one of those "SLOW! Children playing" signs to use at their house when they're playing with E outside. I think he bought it more for the reason that he likes to pretend it's "slow children" instead of "slow, children", rather than for any belief in its inherent safety value. On the way to drop E off at my parents' house one morning, E said "Mom, Poppa bought me a sign that says 'Children playing slow.'" I said, "I know, he told me." E: "Well, I don't want it to say 'Children playing slow'! I want it to say 'Children playing fast'!"
Finals start Monday, which is why I've been in absentia for so long. Poor E has been suffering through day-long fun times with Nanay and Poppa. I'm sure he misses me tons. NOT. They get to do fun stuff like go to the zoo and go see "Meet the Robinsons" and play at the playground, while I sit in the bookstore and study. I'm so jealous.
Random story ahead:
My dad bought one of those "SLOW! Children playing" signs to use at their house when they're playing with E outside. I think he bought it more for the reason that he likes to pretend it's "slow children" instead of "slow, children", rather than for any belief in its inherent safety value. On the way to drop E off at my parents' house one morning, E said "Mom, Poppa bought me a sign that says 'Children playing slow.'" I said, "I know, he told me." E: "Well, I don't want it to say 'Children playing slow'! I want it to say 'Children playing fast'!"
5/1/07
Four...
...always seemed so grown-up. Like, waaaaay older than three. Right up there with five, in fact. Babies at three are now "children" at four. I mean, pre-K is an option, people, they're practically teenagers, right? RIGHT?!
And yet, on the 27th, the day He turned four, he announced from the backseat: "Mom, I can't undo my seat belt anymore, because I'm four now."
Apparently, he considers himself to be either a) regressing or b) gaining a handservant to do all of his daily tasks for him.
Maybe the teenager comment was more apt than I thought.
And yet, on the 27th, the day He turned four, he announced from the backseat: "Mom, I can't undo my seat belt anymore, because I'm four now."
Apparently, he considers himself to be either a) regressing or b) gaining a handservant to do all of his daily tasks for him.
Maybe the teenager comment was more apt than I thought.
4/26/07
Too Many Questions...Not Enough Energy
E asks so many freaking questions. Like, seriously. I can't even brush his teeth for 2 minutes without him interrupting every 10 seconds. Let me give you a typical exchange:
Brush-brush-brush
[E jerks head away] "Mom, why do you have to brush my teeth?"
(Now, note that I've been brushing his teeth for almost 4 years, and I've explained the whole concept of cavities and leftover food like 10,000 times. Keep that in mind when you're shaking your head at my impatience and complete lack of parental understanding.)
[Me resuming brushing] "Because you can't do it yourself."
[Talking through the brush] "But I already brushed there...and there...and there."
[Me rolling my eyes] "Well, I still have to check, just in case. You don't want your teeth to turn green, do you?"
(That particular reference usually shuts him up...)
[Silence for about 20 seconds as he contemplates this horror.] "Mom? Why will my teeth turn green?"
[Sighing exasperatedly] "Because you didn't brush them right."
(Note my use of the circular attack. It works well because it makes me seem like I know what I'm talking about, while limiting his flow of new questions.)
[Chewing on toothbrush in frustrated anger]
And that's how we go through toothbrushes so quickly. They're worn out by endless cycles of Q & A.
In other news, we had a mega blow-out dinner with my family tonight. My little sister's 21st birthday was today, and E's real birthday is tomorrow, so we all went to dinner with many presents and much wrapping paper. It was fun. I managed to last almost all the way through dinner as far as not letting E unwrap presents. But about 5 minutes before the food came (when we'd already been there for an hour or so, and the poor kid had been waiting patiently), I finally caved. And that was fine. But then after dinner, the real feeding frenzy began.
And this is why I don't do the birthday present thing at his birthday parties (which I will post about later, at more leisure and better mood). Because after every shredding of carefully-wrapped gift, it was "What's next?" He barely paused to look at what he was given, and he didn't even notice when he got 2 of the same thing (it was a freakin' cool Spiderman car, too, little booger). There was no appreciation of the gift for quality, just appreciation for the sheer quantity. Frankly, it was depressing, because I love picking out presents and I agonize over them, so it's a bit disconcerting to see things tossed aside so casually. And yes, I'm complaining. Because I try to avoid materialism and birthdays always seem to shove it so mercilessly in my face.
Anyway, I know he'll love them all appropriately later. It just hurts a teensy bit. Sniff, sniff.
There was a group of adults sitting adjacent to our table (of 7 adults and one child) at the restaurant, and they made snotty remarks pretty much all through the meal. About the "sort of people who celebrate birthdays at restaurants", etc. It was awesome. They were old, frumpy, and grumpy. And we weren't being noisy, messy, or disruptive. Plus, we were at a family restaurant. I'm like, "Seriously, if you want to have a completely quiet meal with no children in sight, go to a freaking grown-up restaurant, morons." I hate people who act like you've done something societally destructive by bringing your children out in public.
End rant. I'm out.
Brush-brush-brush
[E jerks head away] "Mom, why do you have to brush my teeth?"
(Now, note that I've been brushing his teeth for almost 4 years, and I've explained the whole concept of cavities and leftover food like 10,000 times. Keep that in mind when you're shaking your head at my impatience and complete lack of parental understanding.)
[Me resuming brushing] "Because you can't do it yourself."
[Talking through the brush] "But I already brushed there...and there...and there."
[Me rolling my eyes] "Well, I still have to check, just in case. You don't want your teeth to turn green, do you?"
(That particular reference usually shuts him up...)
[Silence for about 20 seconds as he contemplates this horror.] "Mom? Why will my teeth turn green?"
[Sighing exasperatedly] "Because you didn't brush them right."
(Note my use of the circular attack. It works well because it makes me seem like I know what I'm talking about, while limiting his flow of new questions.)
[Chewing on toothbrush in frustrated anger]
And that's how we go through toothbrushes so quickly. They're worn out by endless cycles of Q & A.
In other news, we had a mega blow-out dinner with my family tonight. My little sister's 21st birthday was today, and E's real birthday is tomorrow, so we all went to dinner with many presents and much wrapping paper. It was fun. I managed to last almost all the way through dinner as far as not letting E unwrap presents. But about 5 minutes before the food came (when we'd already been there for an hour or so, and the poor kid had been waiting patiently), I finally caved. And that was fine. But then after dinner, the real feeding frenzy began.
And this is why I don't do the birthday present thing at his birthday parties (which I will post about later, at more leisure and better mood). Because after every shredding of carefully-wrapped gift, it was "What's next?" He barely paused to look at what he was given, and he didn't even notice when he got 2 of the same thing (it was a freakin' cool Spiderman car, too, little booger). There was no appreciation of the gift for quality, just appreciation for the sheer quantity. Frankly, it was depressing, because I love picking out presents and I agonize over them, so it's a bit disconcerting to see things tossed aside so casually. And yes, I'm complaining. Because I try to avoid materialism and birthdays always seem to shove it so mercilessly in my face.
Anyway, I know he'll love them all appropriately later. It just hurts a teensy bit. Sniff, sniff.
There was a group of adults sitting adjacent to our table (of 7 adults and one child) at the restaurant, and they made snotty remarks pretty much all through the meal. About the "sort of people who celebrate birthdays at restaurants", etc. It was awesome. They were old, frumpy, and grumpy. And we weren't being noisy, messy, or disruptive. Plus, we were at a family restaurant. I'm like, "Seriously, if you want to have a completely quiet meal with no children in sight, go to a freaking grown-up restaurant, morons." I hate people who act like you've done something societally destructive by bringing your children out in public.
End rant. I'm out.
4/19/07
It's His Party, I'll Cry If I Want To
My angst regarding my tiny devil's birthday party has been partially resolved. The venue has been set, the treats have been bought, and the weather has been checked.
The weathermen better be freakin' right, or I'll sue someone. Little kids' birthday parties are not things that should be messed with. Or rather, moms giving little kids' birthday parties are not things that should be messed with. Because they're tense.
I didn't buy candy. Because I don't ever buy candy. Because when I buy candy for children, somehow it ends up going straight to my hips. And thighs. And abdomen. Self control is not an issue, I swear. E doesn't eat candy anyway, so he won't miss it.
Instead, I bought toys. Those little 88 cent toys they sell at Wally World that are freaking amazing for like one hour. And then they break. But for that one hour, they seem better than all of those expensive toys your kid just had to have for Christmas last year, lest he/she be ostracized from Gymboree. Because you know that those toys only get really appreciated for approximately the same amount of time, and then they end up on the shelf with Ticklish Elmo and the Birthday edition of Barb-idiot. You know it.
Toys don't cause cavities. Keep that in mind.
I ordered a freakin' birthday cake with pirates on it. It was amazing. The things I do for that kid: "Whipped or butter cream?" (I don't freaking know! Which one tastes better?) "What size?" (Why don't you tell me, you're the one who sells these things to desperate moms all day!) "What flavor?" (Um, what flavor do you think I should get?) "What time do you want to pick it up?" (Good Lord, there are too many choices, just give me the mother-lovin' cake, already!) Plus, the poor girl got caught right as she was finishing up her shift (or so I tell myself, because otherwise she was just being rude, and I'd rather not think the worst of people who work in bakeries, because they work with my food). Wow, there are a lot of parentheses in that paragraph. Time for a new one.
Now I'm just afraid that I'll forget something vital tomorrow. Like an ice cream scoop or one of the bajillion swords hanging out at my apartment/my parents' house. You know, those things that are just essential for uber-little kid fun.
The weathermen better be freakin' right, or I'll sue someone. Little kids' birthday parties are not things that should be messed with. Or rather, moms giving little kids' birthday parties are not things that should be messed with. Because they're tense.
I didn't buy candy. Because I don't ever buy candy. Because when I buy candy for children, somehow it ends up going straight to my hips. And thighs. And abdomen. Self control is not an issue, I swear. E doesn't eat candy anyway, so he won't miss it.
Instead, I bought toys. Those little 88 cent toys they sell at Wally World that are freaking amazing for like one hour. And then they break. But for that one hour, they seem better than all of those expensive toys your kid just had to have for Christmas last year, lest he/she be ostracized from Gymboree. Because you know that those toys only get really appreciated for approximately the same amount of time, and then they end up on the shelf with Ticklish Elmo and the Birthday edition of Barb-idiot. You know it.
Toys don't cause cavities. Keep that in mind.
I ordered a freakin' birthday cake with pirates on it. It was amazing. The things I do for that kid: "Whipped or butter cream?" (I don't freaking know! Which one tastes better?) "What size?" (Why don't you tell me, you're the one who sells these things to desperate moms all day!) "What flavor?" (Um, what flavor do you think I should get?) "What time do you want to pick it up?" (Good Lord, there are too many choices, just give me the mother-lovin' cake, already!) Plus, the poor girl got caught right as she was finishing up her shift (or so I tell myself, because otherwise she was just being rude, and I'd rather not think the worst of people who work in bakeries, because they work with my food). Wow, there are a lot of parentheses in that paragraph. Time for a new one.
Now I'm just afraid that I'll forget something vital tomorrow. Like an ice cream scoop or one of the bajillion swords hanging out at my apartment/my parents' house. You know, those things that are just essential for uber-little kid fun.
4/18/07
Reflections on Mortality
Last night, as E was getting ready for bed, he struck up a conversation with me regarding death, of all things:
"Mom, sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes they happen to little kids. Sometimes little kids die."
"That's true, sometimes children die. But everyone dies, you know."
"Well, I haven't died yet."
"I know, and I'm glad you're still alive."
"I'm glad I'm still not died [sic] too. I hope I don't die for a long, long, long time."
"I hope that too, baby."
"Mom, I hope you don't die for a long, long, long time either."
Pause while Mommy tries not to cry.
"Ok, let's brush my teeth."
The workings of kids' minds are amazing to me. I don't understand how someone who has lived for not quite 4 years can mentally wrestle with the concept of his mother's death, not to mention his own. We discuss it, but in relation to things like bugs and pet fish. I did take him to my best friend's grandpa's funeral about a month ago, and that sparked some interesting discussions about missing people that we love and heaven, etc. I suppose his mind was just working away at the idea all of this time and eventually he worked it around to apply it to himself. The sheer delight of watching how kids grow and develop is reason enough to be a parent, in my opinion.
The human brain is amazing. Too bad I'm terrible at neurosciences, or I might actually find it interesting...
"Mom, sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes they happen to little kids. Sometimes little kids die."
"That's true, sometimes children die. But everyone dies, you know."
"Well, I haven't died yet."
"I know, and I'm glad you're still alive."
"I'm glad I'm still not died [sic] too. I hope I don't die for a long, long, long time."
"I hope that too, baby."
"Mom, I hope you don't die for a long, long, long time either."
Pause while Mommy tries not to cry.
"Ok, let's brush my teeth."
The workings of kids' minds are amazing to me. I don't understand how someone who has lived for not quite 4 years can mentally wrestle with the concept of his mother's death, not to mention his own. We discuss it, but in relation to things like bugs and pet fish. I did take him to my best friend's grandpa's funeral about a month ago, and that sparked some interesting discussions about missing people that we love and heaven, etc. I suppose his mind was just working away at the idea all of this time and eventually he worked it around to apply it to himself. The sheer delight of watching how kids grow and develop is reason enough to be a parent, in my opinion.
The human brain is amazing. Too bad I'm terrible at neurosciences, or I might actually find it interesting...
4/16/07
Bedtime Prayers
If you're a parent, you've inevitably come up against the bedtime blues. Unless your kid is better about sleeping than mine is. In which case, I hate you, and you are ordered to leave this blog now.
This didn't used to be a problem for me. My mother cursed my name when E started sleeping through the night at 4 months (right about the time I went back to school, thank goodness). All up through the age of 2, bedtime was pretty much a breeze. Put baby in crib, turn off light, baby falls asleep, sleeps like a rock, and doesn't wake up till morning. Perfect! I was filled with sympathy for (ok, more like lording it over) those poor parents with croupy babies or light sleepers or any of the myriad of sleepytime woes that parents come up against.
Well, God saw fit to pay me back. In full. More like ten times over.
E is terrible about bedtime. Absolutely terrible. And for a kid who is generally easy-going, adjustable, flexible and surprisingly obedient (including a good eater, ridiculously clean and a great sharer, excuse me while I boast), I suppose it is fit punishment that bedtime is so difficult with him. He screams, cajoles, gets up, kicks, throws, scratches, and generally makes a nuisance of himself for at least an hour after bedtime.
Things started getting bad my senior year of college, when E was about 2 and a 1/2. All of a sudden, I noticed that my study time was dwindling fast and the culprit was clearly the screaming demon down the hall. And it made me feel so guilty, too, because I lived in on-campus apartments, where the walls were thin, so I'm sure that my neighbor (sorry, Henry) spent many a sleepless/studyless night while E resided on the other side of his bedroom wall. I did everything I could to fix things: kept E to a strict schedule with daytime nap included, worked out a long bedtime routine that never changed, made sure he didn't have caffeine or sugar in the evenings, insisted he stay in his own bed, and did everything that should have worked. And it sort of did, but bedtime was definitely not a party at my house.
But then I moved back home with my parents the summer after I graduated, and things quickly deteriorated even further. My mother is of the "if you lay down with him, he will sleep" mindset, so I let her try it. It got to where she would be laying down with him for over an hour before one of them (inevitably my mother) would finally succumb to sleep.
And then medical school started. I blithely put E back on his steady schedule, determined to be firm/strict/hard-nosed about bedtime, and refusing to let a puny 3 year old stand between me and my textbooks.
Apparently, I'm not too good at this parenting thing.
Bedtime is now a constant battle. And I'm not sure where I've gone wrong. I keep having to come up with different tactics to ensure he goes to sleep before midnight, and before you doubt, I promise that I have tried each of these for at least a month, if not two. But the little devil keeps working around them, so then I have to alter things! It's not my fault, I swear!
First, there was the "set the timer and check on him every 10 minutes". Well, that worked for a little while, but then when I would check on him, he would ask me to stay until the timer went off. And the time he wanted me to stay became longer and longer, while I kept trying to make it shorter and shorter. And then he became terrified of the timer's ring. So end of that story.
Then came the "I'll lay down with you until you fall asleep" tactic. I figured, my mother's a pediatrician, she knows what she's talking about, right? Well, apparently, my son knows more than she does, because I would either fall asleep and waste my entire evening or when I would leave, E would wake up. Not good options.
Somewhere in the semester came the "Let him cry it out" strategy. That worked for about one night, and then it turned into "Bring him back to his room when he gets up" strategy. E's not one to take things lying down. He's more the type who will vociferously voice his opinion in your face, rather than down the hall. And I was leading (note: not carrying, because you're supposed to minimize the reward of attention, blah blah blah) him back to bed more frequently than every 5 minutes. I'm sad to say that most often, a light smack on the butt and a stern word did more than all my silence and patience put together. What can I say, he's a stubborn kid.
More recently came the "Mommy will study in the hallway where you can see her" phase. That worked ok, despite E's tendency for striking up conversations with me while I was trying to focus on neuroscience, but then the hall light burned out and Mommy didn't have the time to buy a replacement or the height to utilize a replacement. Too bad, kiddo.
So now we're back to the timer phase. And oh, Lord, please help me keep one step ahead of this kid. Because he's swiftly defeating me.
This didn't used to be a problem for me. My mother cursed my name when E started sleeping through the night at 4 months (right about the time I went back to school, thank goodness). All up through the age of 2, bedtime was pretty much a breeze. Put baby in crib, turn off light, baby falls asleep, sleeps like a rock, and doesn't wake up till morning. Perfect! I was filled with sympathy for (ok, more like lording it over) those poor parents with croupy babies or light sleepers or any of the myriad of sleepytime woes that parents come up against.
Well, God saw fit to pay me back. In full. More like ten times over.
E is terrible about bedtime. Absolutely terrible. And for a kid who is generally easy-going, adjustable, flexible and surprisingly obedient (including a good eater, ridiculously clean and a great sharer, excuse me while I boast), I suppose it is fit punishment that bedtime is so difficult with him. He screams, cajoles, gets up, kicks, throws, scratches, and generally makes a nuisance of himself for at least an hour after bedtime.
Things started getting bad my senior year of college, when E was about 2 and a 1/2. All of a sudden, I noticed that my study time was dwindling fast and the culprit was clearly the screaming demon down the hall. And it made me feel so guilty, too, because I lived in on-campus apartments, where the walls were thin, so I'm sure that my neighbor (sorry, Henry) spent many a sleepless/studyless night while E resided on the other side of his bedroom wall. I did everything I could to fix things: kept E to a strict schedule with daytime nap included, worked out a long bedtime routine that never changed, made sure he didn't have caffeine or sugar in the evenings, insisted he stay in his own bed, and did everything that should have worked. And it sort of did, but bedtime was definitely not a party at my house.
But then I moved back home with my parents the summer after I graduated, and things quickly deteriorated even further. My mother is of the "if you lay down with him, he will sleep" mindset, so I let her try it. It got to where she would be laying down with him for over an hour before one of them (inevitably my mother) would finally succumb to sleep.
And then medical school started. I blithely put E back on his steady schedule, determined to be firm/strict/hard-nosed about bedtime, and refusing to let a puny 3 year old stand between me and my textbooks.
Apparently, I'm not too good at this parenting thing.
Bedtime is now a constant battle. And I'm not sure where I've gone wrong. I keep having to come up with different tactics to ensure he goes to sleep before midnight, and before you doubt, I promise that I have tried each of these for at least a month, if not two. But the little devil keeps working around them, so then I have to alter things! It's not my fault, I swear!
First, there was the "set the timer and check on him every 10 minutes". Well, that worked for a little while, but then when I would check on him, he would ask me to stay until the timer went off. And the time he wanted me to stay became longer and longer, while I kept trying to make it shorter and shorter. And then he became terrified of the timer's ring. So end of that story.
Then came the "I'll lay down with you until you fall asleep" tactic. I figured, my mother's a pediatrician, she knows what she's talking about, right? Well, apparently, my son knows more than she does, because I would either fall asleep and waste my entire evening or when I would leave, E would wake up. Not good options.
Somewhere in the semester came the "Let him cry it out" strategy. That worked for about one night, and then it turned into "Bring him back to his room when he gets up" strategy. E's not one to take things lying down. He's more the type who will vociferously voice his opinion in your face, rather than down the hall. And I was leading (note: not carrying, because you're supposed to minimize the reward of attention, blah blah blah) him back to bed more frequently than every 5 minutes. I'm sad to say that most often, a light smack on the butt and a stern word did more than all my silence and patience put together. What can I say, he's a stubborn kid.
More recently came the "Mommy will study in the hallway where you can see her" phase. That worked ok, despite E's tendency for striking up conversations with me while I was trying to focus on neuroscience, but then the hall light burned out and Mommy didn't have the time to buy a replacement or the height to utilize a replacement. Too bad, kiddo.
So now we're back to the timer phase. And oh, Lord, please help me keep one step ahead of this kid. Because he's swiftly defeating me.
4/9/07
Amazed by Children
As E and I were driving home from my parents' house this evening, E piped up from the back seat: "When I get home, I'm going to put my milk [a plastic carton of milk from a restaurant] in the 'frigerator without its lid on."
Immediately thinking the worst (I prefer for my car to remain un-milkified), I gasped "Did you lose the lid?"
"No," he replied "I just want to leave the lid off so my milk will freeze and get cold enough for me to drink."
I explained to him that the milk would still get cold with the lid on the container, and that lid-on was a better policy as far as mommy's kitchen floors went.
"But I don't want the outside to get cold. I want the inside of the milk to get cold." He exclaimed.
Kids are neat.
Immediately thinking the worst (I prefer for my car to remain un-milkified), I gasped "Did you lose the lid?"
"No," he replied "I just want to leave the lid off so my milk will freeze and get cold enough for me to drink."
I explained to him that the milk would still get cold with the lid on the container, and that lid-on was a better policy as far as mommy's kitchen floors went.
"But I don't want the outside to get cold. I want the inside of the milk to get cold." He exclaimed.
Kids are neat.
4/2/07
Medieval Times
So, we went to a medieval fair in a nearby town last Saturday. I kind of just went because I thought E might like it. There were Renaissance fairs every year in a town 30 minutes from where I grew up, but I never attended one, for some reason. I have been to similar events (the British variety, actually, so slightly more authentic as far as actual location goes...), but I didn't really know what to expect.
I definitely did not expect to have a BLAST!
E and I went with my little brother, David. We got there at about noon, and settled down to having some fair food. E had a pepperoni pizza pastry, and I had a broccoli and cheese puff (being on my Lenten vegetarian kick), and it was shockingly delicious! Broccoli, cheese and the "puff" factor does not sound a) delicious, b) sweetly flaky or c) extremely filling, but it was definitely d) all of the above! I can't really vouch for the pizza pastry, but seeing as how E devoured the thing in about 10 minutes (which is eating very quickly, for him...), I assume it was divine.
They had tons of stuff to do at the fair. Aside from the countless medieval clothing booths and toy sword booths, they had a real forge with men making real weapons, a knife/axe/"Oriental star"-throwing section, fortune-telling, "beer" stands (the fair took place on a dry campus, so it wasn't really beer...), acrobats, pirates, mermaids, elephant/camel/llama/horse/cow/donkey rides, a hammock swing tree, jewelry counters, witches, 2 play areas, fairy stores, a medieval crime & punishment corner, King Arthur's court, belly dancing shows, jousting, medieval singing, bagpipe concerts, and pretty much everything under the sun. Lots for kids to touch and play with, lots for adults to look at and pay too much money for. I was impressed by the level of involvement of the fair attendees. There were entire families rigged up in their best costumes, which ranged from pirate to Tudor to Renaissance to true medieval and everything in between. Everything was clean (as in, nothing that I had to cover E's eyes for) and nothing was too expensive. The only thing I couldn't find was cotton candy, and I was pretty disappointed about that, but I figured that it was a divine sign that I didn't really need cotton candy...
Some of the coolest attractions were the people in really awesome costumes just wandering around the fairgrounds providing camera-happy people (ahem...) with photo-ops. Like the man all in black on stilts, with a black mask, long black claws and long black spider legs (or something) coming out of his back. He was awesome and scary, and we got some cool pictures. Or the girl dressed as a real-live satyr (except she had clothes on, unlike some of the pictures you will find if you choose to Google the word). She was also on some sort of stilt-like contraption (I assume) that enabled her legs to have that awesome backward look that animal hind legs have. She was cool.
E finally met the 3-yr-old son of a classmate of mine, and they really hit it off, as I knew they would. They're both only children, both 3, both boys, both spoiled rotten, so why wouldn't they get along, right? They were comparing weapons (they both got toy swords, naturally), and even taught each other some choice phrases. At one point, E broke into the adult conversation with "I doubt it", and N quickly picked that up, and then N said "holy moly!" when the jousting tournament was beginning, and E was immediately trying it out. Little boys are hilarious.
Let me put it this way, when N's mom, Becky, said "Now, N, E may not want to sword fight with you," I knew it was a match made in heaven...
The long and short of it is, that the fair was awesome, and I'd highly recommend it as a family affair. Or as just a sightseeing expedition. Let me tell you, some of the things I saw were not excusable just because the wearers were in pretend-mode. But that's another, more grown-up story...
I definitely did not expect to have a BLAST!
E and I went with my little brother, David. We got there at about noon, and settled down to having some fair food. E had a pepperoni pizza pastry, and I had a broccoli and cheese puff (being on my Lenten vegetarian kick), and it was shockingly delicious! Broccoli, cheese and the "puff" factor does not sound a) delicious, b) sweetly flaky or c) extremely filling, but it was definitely d) all of the above! I can't really vouch for the pizza pastry, but seeing as how E devoured the thing in about 10 minutes (which is eating very quickly, for him...), I assume it was divine.
They had tons of stuff to do at the fair. Aside from the countless medieval clothing booths and toy sword booths, they had a real forge with men making real weapons, a knife/axe/"Oriental star"-throwing section, fortune-telling, "beer" stands (the fair took place on a dry campus, so it wasn't really beer...), acrobats, pirates, mermaids, elephant/camel/llama/horse/cow/donkey rides, a hammock swing tree, jewelry counters, witches, 2 play areas, fairy stores, a medieval crime & punishment corner, King Arthur's court, belly dancing shows, jousting, medieval singing, bagpipe concerts, and pretty much everything under the sun. Lots for kids to touch and play with, lots for adults to look at and pay too much money for. I was impressed by the level of involvement of the fair attendees. There were entire families rigged up in their best costumes, which ranged from pirate to Tudor to Renaissance to true medieval and everything in between. Everything was clean (as in, nothing that I had to cover E's eyes for) and nothing was too expensive. The only thing I couldn't find was cotton candy, and I was pretty disappointed about that, but I figured that it was a divine sign that I didn't really need cotton candy...
Some of the coolest attractions were the people in really awesome costumes just wandering around the fairgrounds providing camera-happy people (ahem...) with photo-ops. Like the man all in black on stilts, with a black mask, long black claws and long black spider legs (or something) coming out of his back. He was awesome and scary, and we got some cool pictures. Or the girl dressed as a real-live satyr (except she had clothes on, unlike some of the pictures you will find if you choose to Google the word). She was also on some sort of stilt-like contraption (I assume) that enabled her legs to have that awesome backward look that animal hind legs have. She was cool.
E finally met the 3-yr-old son of a classmate of mine, and they really hit it off, as I knew they would. They're both only children, both 3, both boys, both spoiled rotten, so why wouldn't they get along, right? They were comparing weapons (they both got toy swords, naturally), and even taught each other some choice phrases. At one point, E broke into the adult conversation with "I doubt it", and N quickly picked that up, and then N said "holy moly!" when the jousting tournament was beginning, and E was immediately trying it out. Little boys are hilarious.
Let me put it this way, when N's mom, Becky, said "Now, N, E may not want to sword fight with you," I knew it was a match made in heaven...
The long and short of it is, that the fair was awesome, and I'd highly recommend it as a family affair. Or as just a sightseeing expedition. Let me tell you, some of the things I saw were not excusable just because the wearers were in pretend-mode. But that's another, more grown-up story...
3/29/07
Birthday Parties
E's birthday is in a month. Those of you who have ever hosted a child's birthday know that the month before the event is one of great stress, debate and decision, as everyone involved embarks on the Search for the Perfect Birthday Venue.
E's first birthday was at a park, with adults only. Not too thrilling for either adults or birthday boy, but what can you expect, he was one! He couldn't even play on the playground! But he was only one, didn't go to preschool, and didn't have siblings or nearby cousins, so there was no reason to go anywhere else. It was probably the best little kids' birthday party I've ever been to. Mainly because there was only one little kid.
His second birthday was at a Chuck E. Cheese-type place. We had one additional kid to this party, my best friend's 6-year-old sister. And of course, there were all the other children at the "restaurant" to romp and play with. I don't know if you have ever noticed (...how could you not?...) that crying turns into screaming when there are more than a couple children in one enclosed place. Probably because they're vying for the most attention. Like freaking baby birds. They scream when they get excited, they scream when they're hungry, they scream when they don't get their way, they scream when the presents come out, they scream when the presents are put away, they scream when you arrive and they scream when you leave. It's quite exhilarating. I recommend ear plugs.
His third birthday was a blast. We went back to the first park, ordered pizza, played soccer and Frisbee, ran around the playground, and finished with cupcakes. Note: cupcakes make for great pictures, as far as both kids and grown-ups are concerned. There were 3 other kids at this party, and a whole bunch of adults. It was awesome. The weather was kind, the park was clean and the kids were good. Plus, there was no money involved for venue-renting, and we got to stay as long as we wanted.
I'm planning on going to a nearby small town (which we can call N) for the party. Our city (ha, I'm totally tempted to call it O.C.) is rather infamous for its wind, and I'd like to do another outdoor shindig. But the thought of all those napkins and plates and birthday hats blowing away in the breeze fills me with a rabid anti-litterer's horror. N has the perks of less wind and nearness to the great portion of our guest list. And it's less likely to be swamped with other birthday boys and girls on the weekend. All great reasons, in my mind.
Now the only problem is where in N? There's a lovely park, which would be free, but subject to the vagaries of the weather. And there's a lovely kid's style party place, which would be weather-independent, but would cost money out the wazoo. We'll have 4 kids and about 20 adults, which means that I'd basically have to pay for a bunch of grown-ups to play in a maze and ball-pit for 1.5 hours. Because there's a freaking minimum of 8 paying guests per birthday package. Which is ridiculous. I mean, why should they care? If I want to pay the same price for only 6 kids to have a birthday party, wouldn't that be better for them? I've never understood that...Plus, if we did pay for everyone, or at least 8 people (psh, whatever!), we'd all have to eat pizza, because they don't allow outside food (which is another point: when you grow up with picky siblings, you learn about all sorts of establishments' policies toward outside food).
Anyway, the point of this is that I think that we'll be going to the park. Because then I can order grown-up food for the grown-ups and kid food for the kids. I'm all about the grown-up food. I just hope the weather holds, because if not, that's a lot of pizza and not very many ball-pit-goers to pay for. And I'm stingy.
E's first birthday was at a park, with adults only. Not too thrilling for either adults or birthday boy, but what can you expect, he was one! He couldn't even play on the playground! But he was only one, didn't go to preschool, and didn't have siblings or nearby cousins, so there was no reason to go anywhere else. It was probably the best little kids' birthday party I've ever been to. Mainly because there was only one little kid.
His second birthday was at a Chuck E. Cheese-type place. We had one additional kid to this party, my best friend's 6-year-old sister. And of course, there were all the other children at the "restaurant" to romp and play with. I don't know if you have ever noticed (...how could you not?...) that crying turns into screaming when there are more than a couple children in one enclosed place. Probably because they're vying for the most attention. Like freaking baby birds. They scream when they get excited, they scream when they're hungry, they scream when they don't get their way, they scream when the presents come out, they scream when the presents are put away, they scream when you arrive and they scream when you leave. It's quite exhilarating. I recommend ear plugs.
His third birthday was a blast. We went back to the first park, ordered pizza, played soccer and Frisbee, ran around the playground, and finished with cupcakes. Note: cupcakes make for great pictures, as far as both kids and grown-ups are concerned. There were 3 other kids at this party, and a whole bunch of adults. It was awesome. The weather was kind, the park was clean and the kids were good. Plus, there was no money involved for venue-renting, and we got to stay as long as we wanted.
I'm planning on going to a nearby small town (which we can call N) for the party. Our city (ha, I'm totally tempted to call it O.C.) is rather infamous for its wind, and I'd like to do another outdoor shindig. But the thought of all those napkins and plates and birthday hats blowing away in the breeze fills me with a rabid anti-litterer's horror. N has the perks of less wind and nearness to the great portion of our guest list. And it's less likely to be swamped with other birthday boys and girls on the weekend. All great reasons, in my mind.
Now the only problem is where in N? There's a lovely park, which would be free, but subject to the vagaries of the weather. And there's a lovely kid's style party place, which would be weather-independent, but would cost money out the wazoo. We'll have 4 kids and about 20 adults, which means that I'd basically have to pay for a bunch of grown-ups to play in a maze and ball-pit for 1.5 hours. Because there's a freaking minimum of 8 paying guests per birthday package. Which is ridiculous. I mean, why should they care? If I want to pay the same price for only 6 kids to have a birthday party, wouldn't that be better for them? I've never understood that...Plus, if we did pay for everyone, or at least 8 people (psh, whatever!), we'd all have to eat pizza, because they don't allow outside food (which is another point: when you grow up with picky siblings, you learn about all sorts of establishments' policies toward outside food).
Anyway, the point of this is that I think that we'll be going to the park. Because then I can order grown-up food for the grown-ups and kid food for the kids. I'm all about the grown-up food. I just hope the weather holds, because if not, that's a lot of pizza and not very many ball-pit-goers to pay for. And I'm stingy.
3/26/07
I survived my spring break vacation...
but unfortunately, studying for the next test block is taking over my life, which is why this post is going to be short.
E survived his week with his dad and actually came back a day early, which was a welcome surprise! I had a couple of breakdowns, but I survived with much crying on shoulders, etc. I think we'll both be okay.
I went to TX with my parents and siblings and we didn't kill each other, or say "I Hate You" even once, which is an improvement. I don't know why we persist in vacationing together, it's usually more stressful than not being on vacation...
All in all, it was a pretty good week.
E survived his week with his dad and actually came back a day early, which was a welcome surprise! I had a couple of breakdowns, but I survived with much crying on shoulders, etc. I think we'll both be okay.
I went to TX with my parents and siblings and we didn't kill each other, or say "I Hate You" even once, which is an improvement. I don't know why we persist in vacationing together, it's usually more stressful than not being on vacation...
All in all, it was a pretty good week.
3/16/07
Firsts are sometimes hard to bear
This week will be E's first entire week away from me. We've never been apart for more than 3 or 4 days at a time, and he'll be gone for 10 days total, at his biological father's.
In our state, we have carefully developed "guidelines" for what visitation is supposed to be like at every age. But unless a particular judge chooses to use those guidelines, you're screwed, and there is no real recourse. So the temporary visitation schedule allows for every other spring break to be alternated between parents. Fun for kids, right? Wouldn't it be more in the kids' best interests to have long holidays shared (or split) between parents every year? Well, it's not like that because that would be more inconvenient for the parents, I suppose. Those things were taken into consideration when developing the guidelines, but again, the use of said guidelines is subjective.
At least mine has been relatively well protected from the vagaries of the courts until now...But when he asks why he has to go, what do I tell him? I think answers like "Because your daddy loves you, so he needs to see you and spend time with you too" are already growing old. They don't really have manuals on explaining visitation to your preschooler.
So this will be a rather lonely vacation. Motherhood shouldn't have to be this painful.
In our state, we have carefully developed "guidelines" for what visitation is supposed to be like at every age. But unless a particular judge chooses to use those guidelines, you're screwed, and there is no real recourse. So the temporary visitation schedule allows for every other spring break to be alternated between parents. Fun for kids, right? Wouldn't it be more in the kids' best interests to have long holidays shared (or split) between parents every year? Well, it's not like that because that would be more inconvenient for the parents, I suppose. Those things were taken into consideration when developing the guidelines, but again, the use of said guidelines is subjective.
At least mine has been relatively well protected from the vagaries of the courts until now...But when he asks why he has to go, what do I tell him? I think answers like "Because your daddy loves you, so he needs to see you and spend time with you too" are already growing old. They don't really have manuals on explaining visitation to your preschooler.
So this will be a rather lonely vacation. Motherhood shouldn't have to be this painful.
3/13/07
A Healthy Fear of the Written Word
As E's imagination has blossomed, he has conjured up ghosts, witches, haunted trees, haunted houses, monsters, pirates, and every manner of scary things that go bump in the night. The latest product of his child mind is that "scary" books can somehow "hurt" him by being in his room after he goes to sleep. This is despite the fact that scary books are his favorite thing to read during daylight hours, and even right before bed.
Therefore, every night, he warns me ahead of time which books to take with me when I turn off the lights. And every night, he remembers at least 2 more books that I should have taken, and proceeds to march down the hallway to present them to me. This has gone on for at least a month now, and the pattern was pretty easy to discern:
His Disney storybook has a picture of Captain Hook on the cover. He's a pirate. 'Nuff said.
How the Grinch Stole Christmas...the Grinch is pretty creepy before he saves Cindy Lou Who
The Spooky Book...I'll let you guess that one
Bob the Builder Traffic Trouble has Spud the Scarecrow in it. And I'm terrified of that guy.
Meredith's Mixed-Up Magic has witches on the cover
All validly terrifying to a small boy who spends all day reveling in terrifying things, right?
Imagine my surprise when one night I looked up to see him hastily dropping his Catholic Book of Bible Stories on the floor and running hell-bent back to his room...
Therefore, every night, he warns me ahead of time which books to take with me when I turn off the lights. And every night, he remembers at least 2 more books that I should have taken, and proceeds to march down the hallway to present them to me. This has gone on for at least a month now, and the pattern was pretty easy to discern:
His Disney storybook has a picture of Captain Hook on the cover. He's a pirate. 'Nuff said.
How the Grinch Stole Christmas...the Grinch is pretty creepy before he saves Cindy Lou Who
The Spooky Book...I'll let you guess that one
Bob the Builder Traffic Trouble has Spud the Scarecrow in it. And I'm terrified of that guy.
Meredith's Mixed-Up Magic has witches on the cover
All validly terrifying to a small boy who spends all day reveling in terrifying things, right?
Imagine my surprise when one night I looked up to see him hastily dropping his Catholic Book of Bible Stories on the floor and running hell-bent back to his room...
3/7/07
Dr. Mommy
Our preceptor for PCM (ahem, Principles of Clinical Medicine) told us that his mother was 1 of 2 women in her medical school class back in the 50s, and that the dean of the school actually asked her once why she was there, taking up space that could be filled by a real doctor. Someone who wasn't going to get married, have babies, and become a housewife. Times have changed since then. My class (of 160 people, give or take depending on mood...) is about 60% men, 40% women.
But has society has really changed that much? I mean, the same issues that beleagured women professionals in the 50s are still present today! The struggle between the desire to work outside of the home and the desire to be home with your kids is still at the heart of our working class. I wonder about it myself sometimes.
I've never had the luxury of staying home with E all the time, because I've been a student for my entire life. But I don't have the 8 to 5 working hours, and I get lots of vacation time, and when he's sick I don't have to call in to ask for time off. So I wonder how I'll handle it when I do have those restrictions. And how will it be to have babies that I can't spend 4 months with before I have to go back to work? E was born at the end of April, so I had 3 1/2 months off before school started again. That's a lot better than 12 weeks of maternity leave, which is not even guaranteed! And that's another topic entirely...
I know there will be years when I will not be working full-time and I know that I will make career choices based on my kid(s). I knew that going into med school. So I sometimes wonder if I am taking the place of a physician who would work full-time his/her entire life and possibly be more of a contribution to medicine?
My personal conviction is that I will be the best physician possible in the role I have, whether that be part-time, full-time, specialist or primary care. But there will always be questions, and there will never be answers except those that I create for myself.
But has society has really changed that much? I mean, the same issues that beleagured women professionals in the 50s are still present today! The struggle between the desire to work outside of the home and the desire to be home with your kids is still at the heart of our working class. I wonder about it myself sometimes.
I've never had the luxury of staying home with E all the time, because I've been a student for my entire life. But I don't have the 8 to 5 working hours, and I get lots of vacation time, and when he's sick I don't have to call in to ask for time off. So I wonder how I'll handle it when I do have those restrictions. And how will it be to have babies that I can't spend 4 months with before I have to go back to work? E was born at the end of April, so I had 3 1/2 months off before school started again. That's a lot better than 12 weeks of maternity leave, which is not even guaranteed! And that's another topic entirely...
I know there will be years when I will not be working full-time and I know that I will make career choices based on my kid(s). I knew that going into med school. So I sometimes wonder if I am taking the place of a physician who would work full-time his/her entire life and possibly be more of a contribution to medicine?
My personal conviction is that I will be the best physician possible in the role I have, whether that be part-time, full-time, specialist or primary care. But there will always be questions, and there will never be answers except those that I create for myself.
3/5/07
Maternity Leave Visited
No, this is not about the Lost episode. Though that was a relatively good one...This is about actual maternity leave. And about discrepancies across the world as to maternity leave. Now, I myself have never had the need to take maternity leave, as I have never had that sort of a job. But it will probably be an issue in the future, so I take interest in it now.
So, to start with, in 1993 or so, the Family and Medical Leave Act came into being. Basically, under it, employees of covered agencies may receive up to 12 weeks of unpaid parental leave following the birth or adoption of a child. There are rules, like the employee must have been employed full-time for at least 12 months, etc., but it sounds pretty good, right? That's almost 3 months of spending quality time with your infant.
Well, it sounds good until you look at other developed countries around the world, and even some undeveloped countries. Now, I have no idea whether these statistics are perfectly accurate, but whether or not they're entirely correct, they still illustrate a big difference...
For instance, the UK: "Working mothers are given the right to 26 weeks of paid leave for each child, 6 weeks at 90% of full pay and 20 weeks at a fixed amount. Women who were employed prior to the commencement of their pregnancy are entitled to an additional 26 weeks unpaid leave. After 1st April 2007, the rules change. All female employees will be entitled to 52 weeks of maternity leave. 39 weeks of this leave is paid, with the first six weeks paid at 90% of full pay and the remainder at a fixed rate." ~Wikipedia
Ahem. Nice, huh? But that was an instance of average leave on Wikipedia. For an example of "generous" policies, we turn to Sweden: "All working parents are entitled to 18 months' paid leave per child, the cost being shared between employer and State. To encourage greater paternal involvement in child-rearing, a minimum of 3 months out of the 18 is required to be used by the "minority" parent, in practice usually the father."
Wow. Just...wow. 18 months? That's past sitting up, eating solid foods, crawling, walking, and sometimes talking. Think of all the milestones you could be there to witness, knowing that your job will be waiting for you when you get back. Amazing.
Bulgaria (yes, Bulgaria, of all places) has set a wonderful example with one part of their policy: "...providing mothers with 45 days 100% paid sick leave prior to the due date, 2 years paid leave, and 1 additional year of unpaid leave. The employeer is obliged to restore the mother to the same position upon return to work. In addition, pregnant women and single mothers cannot be fired." What? Pregnant women and single mothers can't be fired? That is ridiculously unheard of in our enlightened little country of America. How sad.
Even in Cuba (what, Cuba? No way...), Wikipedia reports a maternity leave of 18 weeks at 100% pay, and that legislation has recently been extended to paternity leave.
Now, I'm not saying that these systems will necessarily work in the US. Lord knows the government alone has the capability to mess up legislation for such, not to mention employers and employees alike. But I do think there is a very large chasm between what is typical in other countries and what is typical here. And why is that? I think it bears some examination of what we value in this country, and some exploration as to how our society views parenthood.
And maybe a move to Bulgaria...
So, to start with, in 1993 or so, the Family and Medical Leave Act came into being. Basically, under it, employees of covered agencies may receive up to 12 weeks of unpaid parental leave following the birth or adoption of a child. There are rules, like the employee must have been employed full-time for at least 12 months, etc., but it sounds pretty good, right? That's almost 3 months of spending quality time with your infant.
Well, it sounds good until you look at other developed countries around the world, and even some undeveloped countries. Now, I have no idea whether these statistics are perfectly accurate, but whether or not they're entirely correct, they still illustrate a big difference...
For instance, the UK: "Working mothers are given the right to 26 weeks of paid leave for each child, 6 weeks at 90% of full pay and 20 weeks at a fixed amount. Women who were employed prior to the commencement of their pregnancy are entitled to an additional 26 weeks unpaid leave. After 1st April 2007, the rules change. All female employees will be entitled to 52 weeks of maternity leave. 39 weeks of this leave is paid, with the first six weeks paid at 90% of full pay and the remainder at a fixed rate." ~Wikipedia
Ahem. Nice, huh? But that was an instance of average leave on Wikipedia. For an example of "generous" policies, we turn to Sweden: "All working parents are entitled to 18 months' paid leave per child, the cost being shared between employer and State. To encourage greater paternal involvement in child-rearing, a minimum of 3 months out of the 18 is required to be used by the "minority" parent, in practice usually the father."
Wow. Just...wow. 18 months? That's past sitting up, eating solid foods, crawling, walking, and sometimes talking. Think of all the milestones you could be there to witness, knowing that your job will be waiting for you when you get back. Amazing.
Bulgaria (yes, Bulgaria, of all places) has set a wonderful example with one part of their policy: "...providing mothers with 45 days 100% paid sick leave prior to the due date, 2 years paid leave, and 1 additional year of unpaid leave. The employeer is obliged to restore the mother to the same position upon return to work. In addition, pregnant women and single mothers cannot be fired." What? Pregnant women and single mothers can't be fired? That is ridiculously unheard of in our enlightened little country of America. How sad.
Even in Cuba (what, Cuba? No way...), Wikipedia reports a maternity leave of 18 weeks at 100% pay, and that legislation has recently been extended to paternity leave.
Now, I'm not saying that these systems will necessarily work in the US. Lord knows the government alone has the capability to mess up legislation for such, not to mention employers and employees alike. But I do think there is a very large chasm between what is typical in other countries and what is typical here. And why is that? I think it bears some examination of what we value in this country, and some exploration as to how our society views parenthood.
And maybe a move to Bulgaria...
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