And now back to our regularly scheduled weekends!

The holidays last forever around here.   They start mid-October with Halloween preparations (costumes and treat bags for the boys' classmates), continue with the most dramatic of all family get togethers--Thanksgiving, roll into Christmas (candy canes and treat bags for the boys' classmates) , skate through the New Year, the Superbowl and Valentine's Day (cards and treat bags for the boys' classmates).  FINALLY we arrive at the February birthdays (candles and treat bags for the boys' classmates).  I'm tired of celebrating.  There I said it.

But you know what? It's still fun to look at the pictures.

forgot the candles

Second Grade treats

filling party bags

make sure this one has a balloon

 

remembered the candles

birthday morning

party cake, party smile

One morning in a flurry of last minute preparations, Liam pointed to his drawing of me--the one that's been displayed on the kitchen cabinet since September.  "That's you today, Mommy."  

Even without a mirror nearby, I'm certain that's what I looked like at seven am on Henry's birthday.  Celebrating is hard work--who has time to comb their hair?

This weekend we were gifted with an unseasonably warm and sunny Saturday so we headed straight outdoors for the largest nature preserve we could find. (Originally, Saturday was to be a stay-at-home-day after our busy, stressful and sleep-deprived week but how can you pass up 70 sunny degrees in late October?)

What's so special about this trail sign? Amid complaining that his feet hurt and he was too tired to keep going uphill, Liam stopped and looked at this sign.  I was about ten feet away but I could hear him, very seriously saying "bb....ah...gg, bahhgg, bahg!"

"Mom, the bog is this way.  What's a bog?"

I was so EXCITED!  Liam sounded out a word all by himself for no reason other than he wanted to know what it said.  This is reading.  Not phonics homework, not a school readiness inventory, not a sight word reader that counts toward a free pizza coupon.  Reading.  For the sake of knowledge.  So EXCITING.  (If I do say so myself!)

We kept walking and saw many creatures but not the red-tailed hawk we were looking for.  Nor did we have a bald eagle sighting.  Most of the fauna were crawling, hopping and slithering at our feet.  We had to be careful where we stepped.  In fact, we were still in the parking lot when we came across three caterpillars and a tiny snake.

                                          Woolly Bear caterpillar  (Pyrrharctia isabella, in case you're wondering)

baby snake in the parking lot

There was so much to see I could have stayed for hours, but the wind picked up and the boys were beginning to tire.  We finished our outing with a story and puzzle inside the large nature center.   I bet you can guess which Dr. Seuss book they have on their shelves!

Henry and I enjoyed the huge observation deck.  As for Liam, aside from the bathrooms, he was attracted to a large screen on the wall.  "What channels do they have, Mom?"  He was clearly disappointed when I said that it only showed a loop of still photographs taken at the preserve.  You can take the child out of the suburbs, but you can't take the suburbs out of the child. 

We returned home exhausted but also in a much better mood than we had been in all week.  Despite Liam's longing for cable tv, there's nothing like a day spent together under a big blue sky.

Gliding to Success (or How I Taught My Son to Ride a Bike)

Exciting end of summer development:  Henry rides without training wheels!  It's been a long road to get here.  My firstborn has always been cautious when it comes to physical activities.  He loved his bike with training wheels.  When he turned six, I took them off.  A week later I put them back on.  He refused to even try to ride without out them yet I was convinced that unless he practiced on two wheels he'd never get the hang of it.  In the next year, I repeated the removing, reattaching sequence at least three more times.  Clearly, this was not working for us.

My epiphany came as I watched him speed down the sidewalk on his scooter.  He balanced his body perfectly and when he came to a downward slope, he gleefully picked up both feet and glided faster than fast.  He's aligning and adjusting slightly as he uses speed and momentum.   That's how you ride a bike.  How could I convince him that he already had what it takes?

Henry is seven.  He is much too tall and too old for the wooden strider bikes that are all the rage for young preschoolers.  Why can't I make a 16" balance bike? I asked myself.  It only took a few minutes to move from "I'm so smart to be the first to think of this" to "I really hope someone has done this before and made a YouTube video that shows how."

The first thing I realized after watching said video was that I didn't want to have to worry about putting the bike back together again.  (The video shows a 12 in bicycle but the procedure is the same with a 16 in.)  The pedals and the chain must come off.  It's a fairly big job but I could have done it in an uninterrupted afternoon.  Since I don't have one of those (ever) Grandpa graciously agreed to take care of this.  I'm pretty sure a bike shop would do this for its customers as well.

So back to the part about not wanting to worry about ruining the bike--I purchased a scratched and dented model at the thrift store.   Once the pedals and chain were removed, it looked like this:

We took the bike around the neighborhood, to the park and on bike trails.  It was most fun when there was a slight downward incline.  Henry figured out how to glide and spent lots of time with his feet up and out to the sides.  Coming back up the hills was tough but he was a trouper about it.  The funniest part were the looks given to him by serious bike riders on the trail.  Typically, they zoom right past the little kids but as they passed Henry, many would slow down and stare.   I was always several meters behind him and could read the faces of the other riders.  I imagined them thinking, "That poor kid.  His mom can't even afford to buy him a bike with pedals."  Well, actually, I'm sure most of them had it figured out by the time they rounded the next turn.  It's fairly intuitive if you think about it.

One of our favorite trails and Henry's last ride without pedals

 After a month of confident gliding, I decided that it was best to transition to pedals on a bike that was the same size (instead of the new-in-the-box 20 inch bicycle stored in the garage).  I now had to go back to the thrift shop.  I was very lucky and found this 16 inch Hot Wheels bicycle in great condition for under $8.

And the rest is history!  I'm so proud of my little boy! He is now speeding down the trail with nary a backward glance.  Almost like he's been doing this forever.  You know, one of those overnight successes that actually takes a lot of practice.  Go, Henry!

Wordless Wednesday and the Graduate

Let's Celebrate! (A Little of Everything)

We celebrated at home....

and away!

This past week we not only partied for two birthdays but we also celebrated science and reading!  And really, why not?

The boys were born just a few days short of two years apart.  February birthdays mean indoor parties, treats and goody bags.  In fact, the total count of party favor bags this past month was 98.  That includes thirty four Valentine's Day treat sacks, as well as birthday goodies for both boys' classmates AND their guests at weekend parties.  

Henry's notes (left) and Liam's (right)

One would think that with all three of us being at (different) schools during the week, learning would take a back seat on Saturday.  Around here, it's just the opposite.  I'm concerned that Henry is not getting much science instruction in his classroom so I try to make up for it on the weekend.  I do keep in mind that Henry is a first grader and his brother is still in prekindergarten --most of the time we just make big messes and call it science.

Our science lesson this week?  Osmosis makes gummy bears get bigger!

My goal is to make learning fun--if it's not, then we should just leave the table and head outside for a weekend walk.  On the other hand, I do want to structure our lessons and make sure I am filling in any curriculum gaps --specifically in the areas of Science and Social Studies.  I know firsthand that there is never enough time to cover these subjects in the primary school day.  To help with the structure, I've purchased a few things on TeachersPayTeachers.  I'm very excited to put together some lapbooks about geography and science concepts.  Check out this lapbook tutorial if you are wondering what they are all about.  Mostly likely, I won't introduce lapbooks until summer break but I'm having fun coming up with ideas.  Thank goodness I didn't have my children in the prePinterest era!  I'd be lost without that site!

Speaking of being lost, the boys love to listen to books on cd while I'm trying to find some obscure soccer field or Groupon venue.   Of course, they both want to hold the book as the narrator tells the story.  I found the perfect solution!  Dual language book sets at our library.  We listen to the story in English while both boys look at their own copy of the book.  Most of the time I give the Spanish text to Liam as he is not yet reading individual words.  He sees the pictures are exactly the same as the book Henry is holding, and that's enough for him  After I drop Liam off at daycare, Henry and I listen to the Spanish cd as he follows along in either the Spanish or English text.  Henry is reading at a 3rd grade+ level so he zooms through picture books--listening in another language makes them fun again.

Learning + Fun?  Now that's a reason to celebrate! (and maybe even have another cupcake)

Talking About It

Many choice moms (or SMCs as I use the terms interchangeably) tell their children the story of their conception early and often.  I think this is a great idea--I just never did it.  I think I was too sleep-deprived during their infancies and they were much, much more interested in colorful board books when they were toddlers.  Oh, I made sure we read Todd Parr's The Family Book many times.  We love all of Todd's books but that one has become a staple in our bedtime book rotation.   Still I was never one to go into great detail about how and why we are a "Mommy and Boys" family.  Early on, I made it clear that "we do not have a daddy in our family".  I would say it matter of factly in the most neutral of tones.  When Henry was a preschooler, I tried reading him some books about SMC families--he just wasn't interested enough to pay attention for any length of time.  He much preferred Harry the Dirty Dog and Red Fish, Blue Fish. 

 

So I left well enough alone while always being vigilant for a sign that Henry wanted or needed to know more.  Even four months into Kindergarten, he's yet to give me a clear sign.  Of course, I wrote a letter to his teacher at the beginning of the year.  It was short, sweet and to the point.  I did not want to give too much personal information about Henry's conception but his teacher certainly had a need to know.  She thanked me for the note and no issues have come up so far.  I do wonder from day to day if Henry talks about his family with the other children in his class. 

 

He must though because one morning as we waited for the bell to ring a tiny little girl came up to me on the playground and said, "What happened to Henry's dad?"  I was a bit stunned to be confronted by this question at 7:30 and didn't know quite how to phrase my answer.  She's a little slip of a thing, not yet 5 years old and yet she had stopped me in my morning tracks.  I was completely aware of Henry's eyes and ears trained on me as the two of them waited for an answer. 

 

 "We don't have a dad in our family," I replied. 

"Why?  Did he die?"

 

"No, we just don't have a dad.  But we have a brother, two dogs, a grandma and a grandpa."

 

"Oh! You do?" she said with a relieved smile.  Then she skipped ahead to the front of the line.

 

This girl's questions did not bother me one bit.  At that age, it's natural to be curious and concerned.  No, it was the way Henry stared at me waiting for my response.  Didn't he already know what I was going to say?  We only have one story:  the truth about our family.  Yet Henry seemed not to know what I was going to tell this little girl.  I knew then that it was time to go back to the books.

 

Henry has changed quite a bit in the past 18 months.  He has a much longer attention span.  He can be very serious and analytical.  He likes to wrestle with big questions.  (He also likes to be incredibly silly and wrestle with his brother, but that's another post.)  So this weekend I took Henry out for breakfast alone.  I knew that his younger brother would not be able to focus on our talk and both Henry and I would be distracted by his presence.  Two years from now I plan on having a similar conversation with Liam but for now this was about Henry and me.  We went to Panera where Henry picked out the largest cookie with the most frosting.  (I think he sensed that something was up and he was going to make the most of it.)  Over creamy hot chocolate, we read three books.

 

I have a few others, but Nan's Donut Dilemma, Our Story, and Before You Were Born: My Wish for a Baby seemed age appropriate at this time.  Between each book, Henry would crawl on and off my lap.  We'd hug and say "I love you".  He paid attention to each story and the extra details I slipped in here and there.  But he never asked questions.  Not one.  I told him that we could always read these books again--any time he wanted.  As we walked back to the car, hand in hand, I wished I knew what he was really thinking. 

For now though, I choose to think that he's okay with our (true) story and when he's not, he'll let me know.  I'm sure this won't be our last conversation on the topic; especially if I keep supplying the cookies.

We Did It!

We're on our way!

Henry and I made it through the first (half) day of kindergarten.  He did wonderfully!  I am very proud of him.  Five minutes after entering the building with his new teacher, his class of 25 was sitting in the church for an hour long service.   Moms were invited but sat separately in the back.  I worried the entire time--wondering if he was okay, worrying that the service would be so unfamiliar as to scare him, thinking that I had not prepared him well.  (In our church, children only attend the services on holidays; otherwise they are in the Sunday School rooms.) 

I finally caught a glimpse of Henry as his class stood to leave.  He was subdued but not upset.  I felt a little better.  It helped (me) that I was returning in 2.5 hours to pick him up.  When I did, he was happy to see me but not in a panicked or homesick way.  My feeling is that he took the experience in stride.  I hope so.  I have a tendency to over think things and project my emotions.  I think starting school is scary.  So many things can go wrong.  (I'm sure this stems from attending five different elementary schools...)  I'm trying very hard not to let "my stuff" become Henry's stuff.  On the other hand, I want to make sure he's well prepared for all the transitions within his long school day.  He will be on campus from 7:45 am until 4:15 pm.  That's a lot to ask from a five year old.  I know he will handle it, but I also still think of him as my sweet little boy who likes to hold my hand every chance he gets.

Laughter is the best medicine and mixed with my tears,  I had a dose today.   There was a small Lego set in Henry's booster seat for him to discover when I picked him up.  When he saw it, he stopped mid-sentence and said, "What's this?"  I told him it was a First Day of School Present.  Without missing a beat, Henry asked, "Is there a Second Day of School Present?" 

That's my boy.  I love him so.

Who Knew?

Finishing one of many shopping trips in preparation for the boys' birthday bash, I said to myself-- the best thing about having children with birthdays in February is that their cakes and chocolate milk will stay cold in the trunk while I run the rest of my errands.  Then I thought about it and realized that the best thing about having children with birthdays in February is having children.  Five years ago (also known as the blink of an eye) things were very different around here.  Very different and very quiet.  Who knew it would get so loud and crazy? 



Those fancy character cakes cost twice as much at the store.  Who knew?   I decided to buy plain sheet cakes and decorated them with my boys' favorite things:  CARS for Liam and Dinosaurs for Henry.  They were happily fooled into thinking these were the cakes they had picked out in the bakery book.

Some children will watch the same movie seventy-three times before their 3rd birthday.  Who knew?



A happy family where once there was none.  Who knew?

Being New

                          Will it ever get old?

The last time I walked into an unfamiliar school clutching a folder filled with important personal information it was many years ago and I was on my way to a job interview.  Today I once again walked from a visitors' parking lot to the locked front door of a new school.  Years of parking in a staff lot and gaining unfettered access to the building have made me forget just how conspicuous, how anxiety-producing this activity can be.

It wasn't a long walk but I had enough time to reflect how much my life has changed.  Here I was about to register my son for kindergarten, and yet I wanted to pinch myself to make sure this whole motherhood thing wasn't a dream.  I guess when you spend two decades waiting and wanting a child, five years isn't quite enough time to make it feel real.  (Of course, there are some sleepless nights and some days too, when I wish it felt a little less real.)

One would think that with all I've done on my own, something small like registering my son at the local public school would not throw me for a loop.  But it did.  Clearly, no matter how academically ready he is, I am not ready for kindergarten.  I'm not ready for my little boy to have an ID number assigned to him.  I'm not ready for him to have a school file that can be accessed by people who have never even met him. 

I'm not ready  for Henry to become just another statistic used in a complex funding formula.  I'm not ready to complete the form indicating his race because if I refuse "a school representative will make visual identification" and complete the form for me.  Under penalty of law. 

It's all so harsh. So impersonal.  Although I made the appointment as requested, I'm not ready to have my son screened for readiness by a stranger.*  If he's not ready, what will they do?  Make him go to summer school?  Before kindergarten?  Under penalty of law?

I don't want him to ride the bus.
   Sign him up anyway.  You can't do it later.  Under penalty of law.
   You can't pick him up? You're a what? Working mom? Oh. 
   Sign here for aftercare.
I'll think about it.
  We have to know by March 1st.  Under penalty of law.

I don't think I can do this.  What's wrong with these people?  Don't they know who he is?  When they look at him, don't they see what I see?  A baby bundled against the cold, sleeping as I rock his car seat gently from side to side while I wait to be driven home from the hospital?  What's wrong with these people?  Clearly they're not getting the picture...






*Ironically, I've conducted hundreds of these screenings in my career.

Three years ago



 Three years ago tonight, I was in labor with Liam.  Even after all this time, some days I look at him and just can't believe that he is here, healthy and developing like a typical young child.  His was a long labor and difficult delivery. 

I was dilated 7 cm at my weekly appointment that Tuesday afternoon.  My doctor sent me straight to the hospital.  Her last words to me were "You'll have this baby by 5 pm."  Well, whatever plans she had that evening were cancelled as I labored through the night and into the wee hours of the morning.  You see, late in the afternoon, a nurse mistakenly reported that my water broke.  With that fact recorded in my chart, no one could figure out why I wasn't dilating past 9 cm.  I was miserable.  No food, no drink, no baby.  The nurses would wake the doctor every hour or so but there was never any progress.  Finally around 4 am, the doctor checks again and says, "I think I feel something in front of the baby's head.  Like the bag of water.  Let me see."  And just like that, with the swipe of a perfectly manicured finger, she punctured it and everyone in the room stared at the fluid gushing out as if they'd never seen this happen before.  Ten hours after it "broke" the first time, contractions started.  Liam was born an hour and a half later after tortuous pushing, the threat of a C-section and the suction of a small vacuum. 

He made a terrifying transition into the world, arriving with an Apgar of 2.  They wouldn't let me hold or even see him.  It was hours before I was allowed in the NICU.  My 10 lb, 3 oz baby was three times the size of all the other babies in those tiny isolettes.  On my first visit, I asked the nurse why he was so red.  She said, "I don't know, everyone's skin is different."  I've always heard how nice NICU nurses are; apparently they don't work at this particular hospital.  The only way I could get permission to hold my baby was to insist on nursing him exclusively.  Once the nurses heard that this was my plan  (which it really wasn't until he was admitted to the NICU) they grudgingly let me visit often with the exception of shift changes. 

Nursing or not, I was discharged after 48 hours.  At 9 pm, I returned to my empty house and spent a sleepless night worrying about my two sons.  Henry was well cared for by a dear friend but who was holding and feeding Liam?  The hospital was 30 minutes away when the roads were clear and this night it was snowing pretty hard.  Earlier, as I left the hospital, a nurse said to me, "remember to pump often at home but if this storm gets much worse the power will probably go out."  So now I was leaving my newborn with strangers AND in the dark?  What a long, long night.  Since I wasn't supposed to be driving, I had no choice but to stay home and count the hours until my neighbor could drive me back to the hospital in the morning.

The neonatologist finally agreed to let me take Liam home. He looked quite jaundiced to me but they said his numbers were just high average.  The nurse said that she would need at least an hour to complete the discharge paperwork, maybe more.   When she returned to Liam's cubicle, she looked in the bassinet and exclaimed, "WHERE'S THE BABY?"  "Right here," I said calmly, pointing to his car seat.  Liam was bundled and buckled in.  We were going home.

So forgive me if I stare at his face across the dinner table a few seconds too long tonight.  Forgive me if I marvel at his wide vocabulary and his perfect vision.  Liam has defied all the odds since the day he was conceived but he's not an easy child.  He's stubborn and willful. 

Thank God.

Every day.

And then there were two...

....in school.

I never dreamed that Liam would enter preschool at the tender age of 2 years, 7 months.   Even as I watched Henry join his class for the first time this September, I comforted myself with the thought that I wouldn't say good-bye to Liam at the schoolhouse door for two more years.

And yet here he is walking to school with his very own backpack and his trusty Lightning McQueen.  It seems Liam made a big impression on Henry's preschool director upon meeting her at Family Night one week ago.  She called the next day to invite him to join the 2/3 classroom.  At first I said I would think about it but before the phone call ended I had agreed to send my baby to school two mornings each week.  They are two of the same mornings that his brother attends preKindergarten in the building.  Henry was very helpful comforting Liam's nerves about the big day. 

The day before we met with his teacher and Liam made himself right at home in the classroom.  He joined a group of boys building a road with wooden planks.  See there-- you never know when you're going to need all those matchbox cars stuffed in your pockets!

By all reports, Liam's first day went wonderfully.  His teacher said that he sang and participated all morning.  But the true highlight was snack time.  I asked Liam about it and he said one word:  cupcake.  The school has a healthy food policy so I was a bit surprised until I read that Wednesday had been the birthday of one of his new classmates.  The next morning Liam was still talking about that chocolate cupcake with jelly beans.  I hope he won't be too disappointed on Monday when they hand out carrot sticks. 

I'm very proud of Liam; I know this will be a great and growing year for him.  I also know that he'll always be my baby.

small, but confident

He's off to School. Just like that.

As I was saying, Henry went to school for the first time last week.  He is in preKindergarten with eleven other students. 

I took the day off from work so that I could bring him to school at 9 and be there when his first day was finished at noon.  It was a beautiful, sunny morning.  During the fifteen minute drive, I thought about how comfortable I was with this milestone and actually, how it didn't feel like a milestone at all.  Henry has been attending Sunday School in this same building for over a year.  The preKindergarten teacher is the same kind woman who cares for the toddlers (including Liam) during the service every week.  I chose this school because of the loving atmosphere, small class sizes and their caring curriculum.  Leaving Henry with the staff felt like leaving him with family.

We waited outside the doors for several minutes (definitely the first time we've been early for anything in a long, long time).  There were lots of families as the building houses multiple classrooms.  There were several dads accompanying the moms and children.  This made me feel a bit wistful.  I wondered how much they would talk about family members on this first day.  (They will, of course, talk about family composition, but please, oh please, not on the first day.)  I approached a mom and her four year old to introduce Henry to the boy.  They are a sweet family and this helped to pass the time.



Then the doors opened.  Henry's teacher walked out, greeted him with a smile and took him and the other boy into the building.  Just like that.  I found myself calling after them,  "Have a fun day....I love you....Bye".  Henry never looked back.  I have no idea if he even heard me.

I walked to the car and began sobbing as soon as the door was closed.  All I could think was "the teacher took my baby away".  For the rest of the morning, amidst intermittent tears, that phrase kept running through my mind.  I kept seeing him walk away from me and into that big building.  Just like that.  The teacher took my baby away.

I had finished crying (and reapplied my mascara) when I returned to the school at noon.  Henry had the biggest smile on his face when he came running out of the building.  He was positively glowing with happiness.  That must have been some first day!  Secretly, I was glad to have my boy back.  I couldn't wait to get him in the car and have him all to myself. 

After school, we treated ourselves to a delicious lunch.  My big boy talked about his day and I stared at him with wonder, enormous pride and boundless love.  I wanted to hear all about his experience but I didn't want to pepper him with questions.  Henry told me a few things in between bites of noodles.  "Mom, there was even girls there!"  Sounds like it's going to be a great year.