Yesterday, we went to a birthday party. The birthday boy is turning three, and Benjamin was in heaven at this party. The majority of the party was in the backyard – Benjamin rode bikes, a scooter and a train, he played in the sandbox, with toy cars and trucks, he ate pizza, cake and cookies – all on plates with Lightning McQueen on them. There were about half a dozen kids there of roughly the same age, plus a complement of little brothers, all Liam’s age or younger. He had an awesome time. From about 5 minutes after we got there, he played on his own, or with the other kids, almost entirely without our help (except for a couple of times when we were asked to extricate a ball from the hedge, or a toy from a shelf). The boys all played together and shared very well with little intervention on the part of any of the parents. We checked in with him, from time to time, and had to convince him to leave the toys for a few minutes in order to scarf down some dinner. He asked for my help to ride the scooter (which he’d never ridden before) but, although we kept a close eye on him, he spent large spans of time playing on his own.
Why school isn’t just a big party
September 12th, 201110 years ago
September 11th, 201110 years ago, Tuesday, September 11 started as a regular day at work. I was in a hurry — I was headed out on my first business trip that afternoon. A year later, I wrote about my experience, and reading it takes me right back to those moments: http://blog.danandem.com/2002/09/10/i-was-supposed-to-fly-that-day/ .
I’m surprised at how tender the wound still is. I’m shocked at how hard it hits me if I let myself think about it. The loss of life, the shock, the fear — the profound damage done to our sense of security and safety. But mostly, the loss.
Getting the joke
September 10th, 2011Dan’s young (25-ish) office mate had a road trip planned for this weekend with 9 friends. Destination: Poland. Dan has lamented, over the past few days, that this sounds like exactly the kind of thing just-out-of-college-youth should be spent on (and I agree — I think back to the many nights we spent eating pizza in front of the tv, times when we were actually BORED and think of what a waste it was). His coworker has suggested, recently, that maybe Dan could come along next time. Dan has said it would be up to me. Then, yesterday, at the last minute, it turned out that someone was sick and Dan’s friend suggested (jokingly) that Dan call me to ask if he could come along, but that he imagined there would be lots of yelling if he did. Dan replied that no, in fact, I’d help him back his bags . . . just for a much longer trip.
Har, har. I get the joke: “My wife isn’t the yelling and screaming type, but she wouldn’t permit that. She’d kick me out just for asking.”
Addition, subtraction and spontaneous German
September 9th, 2011I know, all parents think their kids are brilliant. But mine really are. (For the moment, I’m talking about Benjamin – not that Liam isn’t brilliant, I actually strongly suspect that he is, but the examples for today are from Benjamin.)
Last night, Liam was enjoying his Cheerios, and Benjamin was finished eating. Benjamin moved over a seat at the table so that he could sit next to Liam and help feed him. Benjamin’s answer to Liam’s interest in Cheerios is to inundate him — if he likes them, then he should have a lot of them! To keep Liam’s first day of eating Cheerios from also being his last, Dan implemented a rule of “Liam can only have 4 Cheerios on his tray at a time”. So, Benjamin looked down at the 2 remaining on his tray and said, “Ok, that means he can have 2 more”. (See? Brilliant.)
Then, today, we were on Skype with my mom. At the end of the conversation, as we were saying goodbye, he blurted out, “Bis Morgen!” (until tomorrow) which is how his teachers at school say goodbye to him every afternoon. (I am so impressed — first week of kindergarten, mostly spent crying, and he’s already picked something up!)
To the casual observer, these things would mean that my child can count to four and repeat a phrase he’s heard all week. But, from my perspective, he can do addition (subtraction, actually, maybe?) and speak German. Brilliant!
Self-feeding and going to school
September 8th, 2011That’s it — I’m not really needed around here anymore. Liam can feed himself Cheerios. He can’t open the box, or get them from the store, yet, but really, that’s just a matter of time. He is delighted with his new ability, and I really don’t think there’s any turning back for him. From here, it’s on to catching, skinning and preparing his own meals. He’ll also be walking any day, and is quickly figuring out how to work Benjamin’s tricycle at the same time. He’ll probably be driving and looking for his own place by the end of the month.
On the other hand, Benjamin is having a hard time with his latest chapter of growing up. He tells me he loves school, and that he wants to keep going, but he wants me to be there. Tonight he told me that if we go to school tomorrow, and Liam & I leave, then he’ll “be all alone there”. And then he cried. My poor, sweet, little guy.
Please come console your brokenhearted child
September 7th, 2011So, today, it happened. Just over an hour after I had left him, I got a phone call from one of the teachers, saying, “Ben is very upset and is crying a lot. We think you should come and get him sooner than we had planned.” (They all call him “Ben” all the time — it doesn’t bother me, but I’m surprised at the 100% assumption of using the nickname.) As I was only 15 minutes away, having coffee, I was happy to oblige. When I got there, he was hysterical — “Mommy! Mommy! I want my Mommy!” I could hear him in the hall. I walked in, Liam in my arms, and sat down on the floor in front of him and gathered him up in a huge hug, Liam and all. His face was wet, red and swollen from crying. My poor guy.
On his own
September 6th, 2011Today was the second day of school for Benjamin. Liam and I went with him and got him settled in, just like yesterday. But once he was set and playing happily (about 20 minutes after we got there) the teachers suggested that we say goodbye and leave him to play without us. I was nervous — I was sure he was going to fall apart when I said I was leaving. Nope. I went to tell him and I had to drag a hug and a kiss out of him before he turned around and headed for the “grocery store”. Sigh.
First day of school
September 5th, 2011Last night, after the kids were in bed, I completely fell apart. Heartbroken, sobbing. Wishing to be able to replay sections of the past 3 years of my life and make different choices — play more, cuddle more, read more, clean less, never be frustrated, irritable or too worn out to play. I don’t want to give up any time with Benjamin every day — not even 4 hours. I want to be with him. I want to be able to play with him, kiss his boo boos, read stories, do art projects, go out and see things. My sadness is almost completely selfish.
Tomorrow, everything changes
September 4th, 2011For over three years, I’ve been a “stay at home” mom. Tomorrow, for the first time, one of my children will be in daycare. Sure, it’s more appropriately preschool (kindergarten, here) than daycare, and it’s only 4 hours a day, but it doesn’t change the reality of it. Benjamin starts school tomorrow. It’s not like I’ve been with them both 24/7 since their births: I did work a few hours a week at home, I go out and do things from time to time, I even came to Austria for 4 days when Benjamin was only 18 months old, and, of course, I was in the hospital when Liam was born (and for days after, since he was in the NICU) — and thus, away from Benjamin.
Soccer
September 3rd, 2011On the recommendation of a coworker of Dan’s, we took the boys to a soccer gathering this morning. It was a set of games, plus registration for the fall soccer season. It was our first experience with organized sports for little kids, and we had fun, although our boys were too little to participate (it’s for 4 and over).