Things not to do at 8pm the night before you are leaving town on a jet plane for a Thanksgiving celebration and haven't started packing for yourself or your toddler:
-run a travel-unrelated errand at Walmart
-decide to stop at the department store to see if you can find a last-minute pair of casual black shoes that you like
-get home way too late
-start coming down with your toddler's cold (which you were excited was on the wane by the time of your trip)
Things to definitely do the night before you leave:
-Have the absolute bestest, most unselfish, giving, understanding, helpful, supportive and soothing husband in the whole entire world
-Rack your brain for interesting, previously-unseen gadgety things to stuff in the carry-on to entertain a squirmy 18 month old on a plane
-Be ever so thankful to your husband for drilling holes in a small piece of wood and filling holes with assorted screws when appropriate gadgety things are not readily available.
-Be absolutely steamrollered by an enormous sense of gratitude for your undeserved and fantastic life a *whole day* early.
-Make resolutions not to overeat.
-Make resolutions not to overeat even when seriously tempted to overeat.
Happy Thanksgiving! 'Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.'
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Owen and the case of the straight-haired mommy monster.
This story must begin by explaining that with a single exception, I have never ever gotten a haircut from the same hairdresser more than once in my adult life. The exception is a woman on Newbury St. in Boston who finally gave me the haircut of my dreams. I went to her a total of three or four times before I quit my city job and it was just too difficult to travel to her salon.
So, just this past Saturday I resumed my suburban hunt for a decent haircut. I'm really not all that picky, it's just that I have fairly curly hair, I normally wear it curly, and most people have no idea how to handle that. Oh, and I'm pretty cheap and I don't like to plan ahead, so I'm hoping to walk into an average salon and get a good haircut from the first person available (I suppose that's not quite fair on my part). Saturday afternoon Reuel graciously agreed to tend to the Tornado while I madly rushed around looking for an opening so that I could look just slightly spruced up before our party that night, and our upcoming Thanksgiving travels. Alas, having been turned down at 2 closer places, I headed to the old standby, the mall. There is a salon there I've been to before, and they are good about accommodating walk-ins, but I always see a different person each time I'm there...and gladly so. This time it was Mike, and it all started well enough, as it always does, with me requesting a simple trim, some long layers, not too boxy at the bottom. And this time, cut the bangs! Long and swoopy, I'm tired of the skyscraper forehead. Of course, of course, says Mike, I know exactly what you mean! No problem. I remind him that my hair shrinks dramatically when dry. And that the best way to handle it is when he's all done to wet it down pretty well, put some goop in, scrunch a bit, then leave it alone! Naturally, and of course, says Mike.
Mike proceeds with a cut that seems normal enough. He is talkative and friendly. Then enough minutes have elapsed that my hair has started to dry a bit, and The Frizz emerges. I see the flash of panic across his face that he tries to hide, very unsuccessfully. His eyes scream, "Oh (bleep)! What do I do with that?!" I'm all too familiar with this reaction. Nevermind that I had already explained that it requires water and gel; he asks me if I would like to have my hair blown dry. I had already told the desk worker and Mike that I definitely didn't want a blow dry (other than my bangs, which I straighten, and the rest stays curly) and I reaffirmed to him just to spend 2 seconds to straighten the bangs, and leave the rest alone. I was going home right away anyway. Sure, says Mike, of course. Mike then proceeds to blow dry very straight the front right quadrant of my head...yes, way more than my bangs, and it is clear to me that he is doing this because it is getting out of his control. He keeps accidentally grabbing just a little bit too much hair with the round brush until he's blow drying a HUGE chunk of my hair. While this is happening I am panicking wondering what he is thinking, but one of my great flaws is that I am so non-confrontational that I am afraid to even bring it up because I don't want to appear that I am questioning his judgment or a picky, unpleasant person in any way. However, when he starts to dismiss me with my mirror image appearing half curly and wet, and half completely straight and dry, I feel awkward enough that I overcome my fears just a wee bit. I ask if it would be too much trouble to just blow dry a tiny bit on the other side just to sort of balance it out a bit, since I wasn't expecting him to do quite that much straightening on the first side. My fears are realized (as they often are in this kind of case) and he looks put-out and walks over to the desk girl and they have a little chit-chat. Then he walks back in a mini-huff and tells me he is just going to blow dry my entire head, and he's going to do it for free. But that next time I need to tell them up front that I want a cut AND a blowdry and not just a cut. ARGGGH! So now it's my fault?! Double Arggggh! I was quiet and tense at this point and questioning if I'd been unclear or confusing or unrealistic. I always feel bad, even when I know it's not my mistake! Oh well, I just gave him a big tip and left with a really lovely head of straight hair. It was kind of fun because we had a babysitter lined up and a party to go to and our friends thought it looked quite glamourous, so it was good in the end.
But since this is Owen's blog, I'm leaving out the best part of this over-dramatized story. When I got home, Owen and Reuel were in the kitchen where they could hear me come in, but not see me. I heard Owen start saying, "Mama! Mama! Mama!" and run around the corner to find me. I swooped him up in a big hug and then he caught sight of me and he face suddenly scrunched up, turned red, and he started screaming! He was completely freaked out! He ran over to Reuel, and clung to him as if there was a monster trying to kidnap him on the other side of the room. Owen is NEVER clingy to Reuel like that, but for about the next 2 hours, Reuel got to experience what it's like to be a mommy while Owen completely shunned me. We tried all sorts of things to get him to warm up again, but he did not trust me one bit! I was mama's evil doppelganger, and bad news all around. I made his dinner, and we put him in the high chair and I sat a few feet in front of him. He craned his neck and looked sideways the whole time, occasionally stealing a peek at me, but if our eyes would meet, he would quickly turn his head back to the side and get a big pouty lip, pretending he hadn't looked. It was so hilarious and so heartbreaking at the same time! The rejection! Over hair?! I guess I did look pretty different. It was an interesting study in psychology to realize how important the whole visual package is to a child in how they recognize a person. A couple hours later by bathtime, he wasn't quite loving me again, but he wasn't terrified either. By morning we were back to normal ;)
In other news, Owen's picked up a cold, and is having so much trouble sleeping. He was up for an hour in the middle of the night last night because he was coughing so much. He would sit up because he would cough less that way, but then he'd start to drift off to sleep and fall over. Then he'd start coughing again and sit up again, etc. It was cute and sad. Tonight he's so congested he's tossing and turning already every 15 mins. Lovely happenings before our trip on Thursday! Ah well, we thanked God for these and other chances to depend on Him more in our prayers tonight.
This story must begin by explaining that with a single exception, I have never ever gotten a haircut from the same hairdresser more than once in my adult life. The exception is a woman on Newbury St. in Boston who finally gave me the haircut of my dreams. I went to her a total of three or four times before I quit my city job and it was just too difficult to travel to her salon.
So, just this past Saturday I resumed my suburban hunt for a decent haircut. I'm really not all that picky, it's just that I have fairly curly hair, I normally wear it curly, and most people have no idea how to handle that. Oh, and I'm pretty cheap and I don't like to plan ahead, so I'm hoping to walk into an average salon and get a good haircut from the first person available (I suppose that's not quite fair on my part). Saturday afternoon Reuel graciously agreed to tend to the Tornado while I madly rushed around looking for an opening so that I could look just slightly spruced up before our party that night, and our upcoming Thanksgiving travels. Alas, having been turned down at 2 closer places, I headed to the old standby, the mall. There is a salon there I've been to before, and they are good about accommodating walk-ins, but I always see a different person each time I'm there...and gladly so. This time it was Mike, and it all started well enough, as it always does, with me requesting a simple trim, some long layers, not too boxy at the bottom. And this time, cut the bangs! Long and swoopy, I'm tired of the skyscraper forehead. Of course, of course, says Mike, I know exactly what you mean! No problem. I remind him that my hair shrinks dramatically when dry. And that the best way to handle it is when he's all done to wet it down pretty well, put some goop in, scrunch a bit, then leave it alone! Naturally, and of course, says Mike.
Mike proceeds with a cut that seems normal enough. He is talkative and friendly. Then enough minutes have elapsed that my hair has started to dry a bit, and The Frizz emerges. I see the flash of panic across his face that he tries to hide, very unsuccessfully. His eyes scream, "Oh (bleep)! What do I do with that?!" I'm all too familiar with this reaction. Nevermind that I had already explained that it requires water and gel; he asks me if I would like to have my hair blown dry. I had already told the desk worker and Mike that I definitely didn't want a blow dry (other than my bangs, which I straighten, and the rest stays curly) and I reaffirmed to him just to spend 2 seconds to straighten the bangs, and leave the rest alone. I was going home right away anyway. Sure, says Mike, of course. Mike then proceeds to blow dry very straight the front right quadrant of my head...yes, way more than my bangs, and it is clear to me that he is doing this because it is getting out of his control. He keeps accidentally grabbing just a little bit too much hair with the round brush until he's blow drying a HUGE chunk of my hair. While this is happening I am panicking wondering what he is thinking, but one of my great flaws is that I am so non-confrontational that I am afraid to even bring it up because I don't want to appear that I am questioning his judgment or a picky, unpleasant person in any way. However, when he starts to dismiss me with my mirror image appearing half curly and wet, and half completely straight and dry, I feel awkward enough that I overcome my fears just a wee bit. I ask if it would be too much trouble to just blow dry a tiny bit on the other side just to sort of balance it out a bit, since I wasn't expecting him to do quite that much straightening on the first side. My fears are realized (as they often are in this kind of case) and he looks put-out and walks over to the desk girl and they have a little chit-chat. Then he walks back in a mini-huff and tells me he is just going to blow dry my entire head, and he's going to do it for free. But that next time I need to tell them up front that I want a cut AND a blowdry and not just a cut. ARGGGH! So now it's my fault?! Double Arggggh! I was quiet and tense at this point and questioning if I'd been unclear or confusing or unrealistic. I always feel bad, even when I know it's not my mistake! Oh well, I just gave him a big tip and left with a really lovely head of straight hair. It was kind of fun because we had a babysitter lined up and a party to go to and our friends thought it looked quite glamourous, so it was good in the end.
But since this is Owen's blog, I'm leaving out the best part of this over-dramatized story. When I got home, Owen and Reuel were in the kitchen where they could hear me come in, but not see me. I heard Owen start saying, "Mama! Mama! Mama!" and run around the corner to find me. I swooped him up in a big hug and then he caught sight of me and he face suddenly scrunched up, turned red, and he started screaming! He was completely freaked out! He ran over to Reuel, and clung to him as if there was a monster trying to kidnap him on the other side of the room. Owen is NEVER clingy to Reuel like that, but for about the next 2 hours, Reuel got to experience what it's like to be a mommy while Owen completely shunned me. We tried all sorts of things to get him to warm up again, but he did not trust me one bit! I was mama's evil doppelganger, and bad news all around. I made his dinner, and we put him in the high chair and I sat a few feet in front of him. He craned his neck and looked sideways the whole time, occasionally stealing a peek at me, but if our eyes would meet, he would quickly turn his head back to the side and get a big pouty lip, pretending he hadn't looked. It was so hilarious and so heartbreaking at the same time! The rejection! Over hair?! I guess I did look pretty different. It was an interesting study in psychology to realize how important the whole visual package is to a child in how they recognize a person. A couple hours later by bathtime, he wasn't quite loving me again, but he wasn't terrified either. By morning we were back to normal ;)
In other news, Owen's picked up a cold, and is having so much trouble sleeping. He was up for an hour in the middle of the night last night because he was coughing so much. He would sit up because he would cough less that way, but then he'd start to drift off to sleep and fall over. Then he'd start coughing again and sit up again, etc. It was cute and sad. Tonight he's so congested he's tossing and turning already every 15 mins. Lovely happenings before our trip on Thursday! Ah well, we thanked God for these and other chances to depend on Him more in our prayers tonight.
Friday, November 21, 2008
I had such a big love moment for Owen today and I don't think I can transmit what exactly touched me very adequately so that anyone else can really get it, but I want to record it for myself anyway :) Owen brought his board book 'HUG' over to me today and put it in my hands. He looked at me with the oddest expression and started saying something unintelligible, to the tune of 'Bomo. Momo. Mobo. Bomo,' and so on. No idea. Then his face lit up and he said, 'Mama! Mama! Mama!'
My little man understands his book! And he was sharing the punch line of the story with me, acted with emotion! He has a tender heart in there, and to be able to communicate ideas with me, especially emotional ones, felt like such a huge thing.
So at this point I should explain the plot of the book. It goes like this...lonely baby monkey wanders through jungle and observes various mom/baby pairs of other spieces hugging. Baby monkey says, 'hug' on each sighting, becoming increasingly discontented that he has no one to hug. Finally, as the tension becomes unbearable, mommy monkey appears and shouts, 'BOBO!' To which Bobo replies, 'MOMMY!' Great relief and continued hugging abound. Without a doubt, Owen was reciting the scene of Bobo and Mommy's reunion, and he did a great job. Of course, much hugging abounded in our house, too.
My little man understands his book! And he was sharing the punch line of the story with me, acted with emotion! He has a tender heart in there, and to be able to communicate ideas with me, especially emotional ones, felt like such a huge thing.
So at this point I should explain the plot of the book. It goes like this...lonely baby monkey wanders through jungle and observes various mom/baby pairs of other spieces hugging. Baby monkey says, 'hug' on each sighting, becoming increasingly discontented that he has no one to hug. Finally, as the tension becomes unbearable, mommy monkey appears and shouts, 'BOBO!' To which Bobo replies, 'MOMMY!' Great relief and continued hugging abound. Without a doubt, Owen was reciting the scene of Bobo and Mommy's reunion, and he did a great job. Of course, much hugging abounded in our house, too.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Purging myself of nap frustrations via blog.
Owen has skipped 5 naps in the last 2 weeks (and he only takes one per day).
Of the remaining days, 4 of the naps were less than an hour long.
Of the remaining days, 4 of the naps involved Owen waking up screaming in the middle of the nap, but then returning to sleep after several minutes.
That leaves 2 days of 'good' naps, each an uninterrupted 1 hour and 35 minutes.
Pretty much every other mother I know has a child who routinely naps at least 2 hours, and on an off day takes .75-1.5 hours.
No it is not because he is not tired. Yes, it is because he is overtired. Sometimes it may be because when he skips a nap I put him to bed very very early to compensate and the extra long night's sleep makes it harder for him to nap the next day. No, keeping him up later after he skips a nap would not be really smart. Yes, trying to keep him up later would make him wake up several times during the night screaming and horribly grumpy the next day. Yes, I am quite frustrated that we are in one of these really horrible, worse-than-normal-horrible napping patterns right before we're traveling for both holidays. Sigh.
We had a couple of bad days last week that were completely my fault (not that you should blame me, I am doing my BEST!). I had gone in and helped him get to sleep one day when it was very clear he would not nap otherwise. While this might seem like no big deal, to my strong-willed child, it is a permission slip to cry during his entire naptime after I put him down on subsequent days. So, I think we basically had to do some re-nap training last week for a day or so. Then, there's the poopy diaper in the crib problem. Still happening now and then.
But today was an all new adventure! After having vowed non-negotiably to NEVER again return to Owen's room for at least one hour after the start of naptime so as not to send him any mixed signals and especially with traveling and sleeping in new places coming...today he was not going down easily, but then began to shrriiiieek in a truly horrific, abnormal fashion. I waited for a bit but noticed that there was no movement on his video monitor. I sensed a real problem, and sure enough he looked like a crazed animal when I walked in because he had managed to get his arm stuck in the crib. His elbow joint wouldn't pop back through and I had a hard time getting it out without hurting him myself. He was beside himself. I hugged him for a minute to calm him down and then tried to put him back down to go to sleep. Well, normally if I lay him back down he is very unhappy but he seems angry more than anything. Today when I tried he seemed hysterical. I think he was completely wigged out by getting stuck and was at this point unable to manage his emotions in any way. Moments of decision! What does one do? Is he throwing a tantrum and acting extra snarly just to get out of that crib and I should say 'naptime' and walk out of the room? Tried that...he sounded rabid as I left the room, like he would hurt himself. I returned and laid him down but he wouldn't even calm down with me standing there. Suddenly I just decided to put my hand over his eyes like a mask and he instantly got quiet and collapsed into sleep. So, it seems that he really was entirely overwhelmed and this was not just a tantrum to be ignored. But now we have one more mixed message to mess with this week's naps. He always finds a way to play a trump card. But I love him.
Owen has skipped 5 naps in the last 2 weeks (and he only takes one per day).
Of the remaining days, 4 of the naps were less than an hour long.
Of the remaining days, 4 of the naps involved Owen waking up screaming in the middle of the nap, but then returning to sleep after several minutes.
That leaves 2 days of 'good' naps, each an uninterrupted 1 hour and 35 minutes.
Pretty much every other mother I know has a child who routinely naps at least 2 hours, and on an off day takes .75-1.5 hours.
No it is not because he is not tired. Yes, it is because he is overtired. Sometimes it may be because when he skips a nap I put him to bed very very early to compensate and the extra long night's sleep makes it harder for him to nap the next day. No, keeping him up later after he skips a nap would not be really smart. Yes, trying to keep him up later would make him wake up several times during the night screaming and horribly grumpy the next day. Yes, I am quite frustrated that we are in one of these really horrible, worse-than-normal-horrible napping patterns right before we're traveling for both holidays. Sigh.
We had a couple of bad days last week that were completely my fault (not that you should blame me, I am doing my BEST!). I had gone in and helped him get to sleep one day when it was very clear he would not nap otherwise. While this might seem like no big deal, to my strong-willed child, it is a permission slip to cry during his entire naptime after I put him down on subsequent days. So, I think we basically had to do some re-nap training last week for a day or so. Then, there's the poopy diaper in the crib problem. Still happening now and then.
But today was an all new adventure! After having vowed non-negotiably to NEVER again return to Owen's room for at least one hour after the start of naptime so as not to send him any mixed signals and especially with traveling and sleeping in new places coming...today he was not going down easily, but then began to shrriiiieek in a truly horrific, abnormal fashion. I waited for a bit but noticed that there was no movement on his video monitor. I sensed a real problem, and sure enough he looked like a crazed animal when I walked in because he had managed to get his arm stuck in the crib. His elbow joint wouldn't pop back through and I had a hard time getting it out without hurting him myself. He was beside himself. I hugged him for a minute to calm him down and then tried to put him back down to go to sleep. Well, normally if I lay him back down he is very unhappy but he seems angry more than anything. Today when I tried he seemed hysterical. I think he was completely wigged out by getting stuck and was at this point unable to manage his emotions in any way. Moments of decision! What does one do? Is he throwing a tantrum and acting extra snarly just to get out of that crib and I should say 'naptime' and walk out of the room? Tried that...he sounded rabid as I left the room, like he would hurt himself. I returned and laid him down but he wouldn't even calm down with me standing there. Suddenly I just decided to put my hand over his eyes like a mask and he instantly got quiet and collapsed into sleep. So, it seems that he really was entirely overwhelmed and this was not just a tantrum to be ignored. But now we have one more mixed message to mess with this week's naps. He always finds a way to play a trump card. But I love him.
Monday, November 10, 2008
As I type...observing Owen via video monitor after just being put down for the night. He is lying down and has just discovered his ability to make very juicy zerbert noises with his mouth. He is cracking himself up and laughing between zerberts. So what if he only took a 30 minute nap today...if it leaves him this kind of giddy by the end of the day it was worth it ;)
I turned on his rotating sea creature lamp during our bedtime routine today (it's an awesome japanese paper lantern my old boss gave me as a gift and I had forgotten all about it now that Owen is old enough to really enjoy it!) and Owen was mesmerized. He watched it for several minutes while opening and closing his mouth (what he does when we say, 'What does a fish say?').
New/rare words I noticed today:
'ay' = rake
'am-ah' = camera
'ahss' = rice
'dah' = dog
'baa-paa' = backpack
'ee-oh' = orange
'googoo' = cookie
'eye-me' = ice cream
'meh-bay' = band aid
'ah-pay' = airplane
Today we returned to the boys and girls club for mother/baby swim classes after a 5 month hiatus. I wasn't sure what Owen would think of swimming after such a long break. Well, he retreated back to a demeanor that he displayed often in infancy...wide-eyed, deadly serious, just looking around without the slightest expression. The only thing that broke the trance was the part of the class where the babies jump off the side into our arms...he squealed in delight about that, but then right back to the trance. He was also whole-body shivering; I felt terrible. But he couldn't warm up because he wasn't kicking or splashing, just holding onto me. I was sure that he wasn't having that great a time, but lo and behold, when the class was over and we got out of the pool he threw an absolutely ear-piercing tantrum about as fierce as any I've seen from him (and that is no small number). He did not want to get out of that pool, and was trying to wrench himself out of my arms and throw himself back in it while we walked to the locker room. So, I'm guessing he liked it and will probably be back to his animated self next week :) He did fine with swimming underwater. We dump water on his head in the bath (and he does it to himself) so he's stayed used to being submerged (that is a major hurdle for a lot of the kids).
Yesterday we hurriedly raked some parts of the yard before it was completely dark (happens about 4:30p at the moment!). Owen got strapped onto Reuel in the backpack while I mowed and Reuel used the leafblower. Owen was in heaven between watching mommy drive the mower and being within a couple feet of a running power tool. He got down a couple times and headed for the mower across the yard and shimmied up onto the seat and put the headphones on and pretended to drive and shift gears. It is so much easier to take care of the child when we're outdoors. We should have been nomads, or we could at least move south so the winter's not quiiiiite so long.
Cheers!
I turned on his rotating sea creature lamp during our bedtime routine today (it's an awesome japanese paper lantern my old boss gave me as a gift and I had forgotten all about it now that Owen is old enough to really enjoy it!) and Owen was mesmerized. He watched it for several minutes while opening and closing his mouth (what he does when we say, 'What does a fish say?').
New/rare words I noticed today:
'ay' = rake
'am-ah' = camera
'ahss' = rice
'dah' = dog
'baa-paa' = backpack
'ee-oh' = orange
'googoo' = cookie
'eye-me' = ice cream
'meh-bay' = band aid
'ah-pay' = airplane
Today we returned to the boys and girls club for mother/baby swim classes after a 5 month hiatus. I wasn't sure what Owen would think of swimming after such a long break. Well, he retreated back to a demeanor that he displayed often in infancy...wide-eyed, deadly serious, just looking around without the slightest expression. The only thing that broke the trance was the part of the class where the babies jump off the side into our arms...he squealed in delight about that, but then right back to the trance. He was also whole-body shivering; I felt terrible. But he couldn't warm up because he wasn't kicking or splashing, just holding onto me. I was sure that he wasn't having that great a time, but lo and behold, when the class was over and we got out of the pool he threw an absolutely ear-piercing tantrum about as fierce as any I've seen from him (and that is no small number). He did not want to get out of that pool, and was trying to wrench himself out of my arms and throw himself back in it while we walked to the locker room. So, I'm guessing he liked it and will probably be back to his animated self next week :) He did fine with swimming underwater. We dump water on his head in the bath (and he does it to himself) so he's stayed used to being submerged (that is a major hurdle for a lot of the kids).
Yesterday we hurriedly raked some parts of the yard before it was completely dark (happens about 4:30p at the moment!). Owen got strapped onto Reuel in the backpack while I mowed and Reuel used the leafblower. Owen was in heaven between watching mommy drive the mower and being within a couple feet of a running power tool. He got down a couple times and headed for the mower across the yard and shimmied up onto the seat and put the headphones on and pretended to drive and shift gears. It is so much easier to take care of the child when we're outdoors. We should have been nomads, or we could at least move south so the winter's not quiiiiite so long.
Cheers!
Friday, November 7, 2008
Today on the O files...tales of the little man who thinks he is big, and other toddler moments.
I have mentioned Owen's affinity for tools before, but recently his zeal has grown to an almost ridiculous level (in my opinion, of course). Whereas The Strong-Willed One used to spend an afternoon at home begging to go outside or to watch movies of himself on the computer, I now must devise a plethora of worthy distractions to combat his *constant* desire to go to the basement. What is in the basement you ask? The workbench, the tools, the 2x4 with holes, screws and pegs in it that Reuel made for him, and the 5 gallon bucket turned upside down that Reuel taught him to stand on so that he could 'work' at the bench. In other words, little boy promised land.
The same child who rarely engages with any toy or book for longer than about 30 seconds will stand on said bucket for hours if I allow him to. The delight that results is palpable. The tantrum that results when it is time to go upstairs is even more palpable. It's not that I have any problem with letting him enjoy playing and feeling grown up (because that's really what it's about) but it is simply not healthy for either of us to be down there aaaalllll day doing this. And so rather than deal with tantrums when I have to ask him to stop, it is much, much easier to only go down there once a day or so. For a while I had the theory that if I just let him get as much of standing on that bucket as he wanted, he would eventually bore and tire of it and the spell would be broken. Not so! Experiment attempted and results disproved hypothesis.
Here's how it goes when he does have workbench time. Run over to bucket and say up-up-up-up-up-up-up until mommy lifts Owen onto bucket. Owen looks over his setup to see if anything's missing and amasses all of the important items within his reach while mommy is there to help. Three screws, three pegs, hammer, one long screwdriver, one short, pliers, package of shims...check! Now that he has everything, look through narrowed eyes at mommy, point open palm at her and grunt (interpretation: Mommy go away!! I want to be doing this all by myself! This is man work! There is no place for you here!). Mommy goes over to other side of basement to work on the laundry (hmm, woman work? just wait til you're old enough to learn how to turn the knob on the washer big man!). Anytime something drops on the floor Owen says, 'Uh-oh! Uh-oh!' and then mommy is not only permitted, but expected to return to the workbench area and retrieve it. Then, the open palm routine again. And so on. If mommy tries to come over to chat or spend time together when nothing has fallen on the floor...much upsettedness. (Mommy is not Owen's doormat in general, mommy just thinks that this particular pattern is probably a healthy sign of growing independence and so respects the dictator's wishes in this case.) Atop the bucket, Owen bangs with the hammer, sort of pokes at the screws with the screwdriver, moves everything around, moves it again, and really doesn't do very much. But boy is it fun. And I do get the laundry done :)
The love affair with tools is part of a bigger picture of Owen's increasing differentiation of Reuel and I in his mind. It is interesting to watch. For instance, Owen is incredibly bold in general about stair climbing (he can slither downstairs at light speed, it's amazing), but the two front steps into our house are very tall and he has thought them too much to manage...rightfully so. When we go outside he waits at the top and once I'm at the bottom he jumps into my arms to get down. Recently there have been a few times where I've gone over to the car to get something and he's stuck on the top step and starts crying and fussing for me to come get him, nothing strange there. Well, last weekend when Reuel was home the two of them went outside and Reuel walked down the steps in front of Owen. What does Owen do but watch Reuel go down and then not hesitate for a moment but go right down after him, grabbing the railing and basically trying to drop himself down to the lower step, holding himself up by one arm while he's trying to find the step underneath with his feet. I would call it peer pressure, but I guess it's be-like-daddy pressure in this case. I find it adorable, that with Reuel Owen finds a way to muster up courage, without any fussing. I think it speaks well that he already respects him in a special way that is not the same as with me. But maybe I read too much into it.
Today we met friends at the mall and attempted to play in the play area. I'm not sure why Owen is not really interested in playing with the other kids...a little concerning. He just wants to escape out into the mall and run around. So the entire episode was a chasing game of Owen escaping and me running after him. If I had been wearing workout clothing I wouldn't have minded but building up such a sweat in jeans and a sweater wasn't all that fun. I am reading a book called raising your challenging child, or something like that, by Stanley Greenspan and it is really fascinating. Of course, with all of that info in my head I started getting concerned that Owen isn't starting to relate to people as effectively as he could be--between the hair pulling, and not loving playing in groups--but knowing me, I should give it a little more time before I worry.
OK, if you don't want to hear about potty issues, turn away now. Today was the end of a 2-day nap strike, revolving around diaper issues that have been going on for a couple of weeks now. Owen poops as soon as I lay him down for his nap and leave the room. It doesn't matter when I put him down, or the spacing between lunch and nap, or how much he eats or drinks that day or the day prior. I believe he has actually gained enough control and smarts that he intentionally saves the event for the crib. No big deal, except for a long while he wouldn't go to sleep in the soiled state. So, I would have to return to the room, change him and put him back down. The first few times, he went ahead and took a nap. Then, he started staying awake after I had put him back down. The child who has had extremely strict sleep habits imposed upon him is not used to being able to get mommy to come back in for any reason...but poopy diaper was the one excuse that finally worked. And Owen learned fast!! The last two days involved a whole lot of crying and no napping. And very early bedtimes (he's slept from 5pm to 6:30am the last two days!). Today I think he pooped as usual, but he went ahead and went to sleep. I feel kind of bad about that, but a dirty bum is less dangerous than no napping in my opinion.
He is very aware/obsessed with his potty habits lately. He tells me 'po po' and 'dipe' when he's done his business, and sometimes says po po even when he hasn't (and I'm beginning to think it's when he's #1'd). Potty training readiness? One would hope, but when we sit on the potty he gets very, very upset and goes to get a diaper and wants it ON! He clearly has some feeling of security about going in the diaper and is very wary of the potty. So I'm not pushing it right now.
Well, I'd like to do something else with the precious naptime other than blog (and this is long enough!).
I have mentioned Owen's affinity for tools before, but recently his zeal has grown to an almost ridiculous level (in my opinion, of course). Whereas The Strong-Willed One used to spend an afternoon at home begging to go outside or to watch movies of himself on the computer, I now must devise a plethora of worthy distractions to combat his *constant* desire to go to the basement. What is in the basement you ask? The workbench, the tools, the 2x4 with holes, screws and pegs in it that Reuel made for him, and the 5 gallon bucket turned upside down that Reuel taught him to stand on so that he could 'work' at the bench. In other words, little boy promised land.
The same child who rarely engages with any toy or book for longer than about 30 seconds will stand on said bucket for hours if I allow him to. The delight that results is palpable. The tantrum that results when it is time to go upstairs is even more palpable. It's not that I have any problem with letting him enjoy playing and feeling grown up (because that's really what it's about) but it is simply not healthy for either of us to be down there aaaalllll day doing this. And so rather than deal with tantrums when I have to ask him to stop, it is much, much easier to only go down there once a day or so. For a while I had the theory that if I just let him get as much of standing on that bucket as he wanted, he would eventually bore and tire of it and the spell would be broken. Not so! Experiment attempted and results disproved hypothesis.
Here's how it goes when he does have workbench time. Run over to bucket and say up-up-up-up-up-up-up until mommy lifts Owen onto bucket. Owen looks over his setup to see if anything's missing and amasses all of the important items within his reach while mommy is there to help. Three screws, three pegs, hammer, one long screwdriver, one short, pliers, package of shims...check! Now that he has everything, look through narrowed eyes at mommy, point open palm at her and grunt (interpretation: Mommy go away!! I want to be doing this all by myself! This is man work! There is no place for you here!). Mommy goes over to other side of basement to work on the laundry (hmm, woman work? just wait til you're old enough to learn how to turn the knob on the washer big man!). Anytime something drops on the floor Owen says, 'Uh-oh! Uh-oh!' and then mommy is not only permitted, but expected to return to the workbench area and retrieve it. Then, the open palm routine again. And so on. If mommy tries to come over to chat or spend time together when nothing has fallen on the floor...much upsettedness. (Mommy is not Owen's doormat in general, mommy just thinks that this particular pattern is probably a healthy sign of growing independence and so respects the dictator's wishes in this case.) Atop the bucket, Owen bangs with the hammer, sort of pokes at the screws with the screwdriver, moves everything around, moves it again, and really doesn't do very much. But boy is it fun. And I do get the laundry done :)
The love affair with tools is part of a bigger picture of Owen's increasing differentiation of Reuel and I in his mind. It is interesting to watch. For instance, Owen is incredibly bold in general about stair climbing (he can slither downstairs at light speed, it's amazing), but the two front steps into our house are very tall and he has thought them too much to manage...rightfully so. When we go outside he waits at the top and once I'm at the bottom he jumps into my arms to get down. Recently there have been a few times where I've gone over to the car to get something and he's stuck on the top step and starts crying and fussing for me to come get him, nothing strange there. Well, last weekend when Reuel was home the two of them went outside and Reuel walked down the steps in front of Owen. What does Owen do but watch Reuel go down and then not hesitate for a moment but go right down after him, grabbing the railing and basically trying to drop himself down to the lower step, holding himself up by one arm while he's trying to find the step underneath with his feet. I would call it peer pressure, but I guess it's be-like-daddy pressure in this case. I find it adorable, that with Reuel Owen finds a way to muster up courage, without any fussing. I think it speaks well that he already respects him in a special way that is not the same as with me. But maybe I read too much into it.
Today we met friends at the mall and attempted to play in the play area. I'm not sure why Owen is not really interested in playing with the other kids...a little concerning. He just wants to escape out into the mall and run around. So the entire episode was a chasing game of Owen escaping and me running after him. If I had been wearing workout clothing I wouldn't have minded but building up such a sweat in jeans and a sweater wasn't all that fun. I am reading a book called raising your challenging child, or something like that, by Stanley Greenspan and it is really fascinating. Of course, with all of that info in my head I started getting concerned that Owen isn't starting to relate to people as effectively as he could be--between the hair pulling, and not loving playing in groups--but knowing me, I should give it a little more time before I worry.
OK, if you don't want to hear about potty issues, turn away now. Today was the end of a 2-day nap strike, revolving around diaper issues that have been going on for a couple of weeks now. Owen poops as soon as I lay him down for his nap and leave the room. It doesn't matter when I put him down, or the spacing between lunch and nap, or how much he eats or drinks that day or the day prior. I believe he has actually gained enough control and smarts that he intentionally saves the event for the crib. No big deal, except for a long while he wouldn't go to sleep in the soiled state. So, I would have to return to the room, change him and put him back down. The first few times, he went ahead and took a nap. Then, he started staying awake after I had put him back down. The child who has had extremely strict sleep habits imposed upon him is not used to being able to get mommy to come back in for any reason...but poopy diaper was the one excuse that finally worked. And Owen learned fast!! The last two days involved a whole lot of crying and no napping. And very early bedtimes (he's slept from 5pm to 6:30am the last two days!). Today I think he pooped as usual, but he went ahead and went to sleep. I feel kind of bad about that, but a dirty bum is less dangerous than no napping in my opinion.
He is very aware/obsessed with his potty habits lately. He tells me 'po po' and 'dipe' when he's done his business, and sometimes says po po even when he hasn't (and I'm beginning to think it's when he's #1'd). Potty training readiness? One would hope, but when we sit on the potty he gets very, very upset and goes to get a diaper and wants it ON! He clearly has some feeling of security about going in the diaper and is very wary of the potty. So I'm not pushing it right now.
Well, I'd like to do something else with the precious naptime other than blog (and this is long enough!).
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