"Laura in kitchen." That's how Gavin greeted Laura this morning. She was, indeed, in the kitchen. Barefoot, even, which is against the rules. We're getting our kitchen redone and so Gavin is not allowed in there without shoes. So far he's been really good about this, though this morning he opted for a pair of Stacy's shoes, black flats with a colorful floral print. They were a little gaudy, though I think that was due in large part to their size. He also insisted on wearing his pink gardening gloves. I've been searching all summer for kids' gardening gloves and I finally found some at CVS. Pink gloves with a "Princess" Disney logo on the back were the only options. They go well with Gavin's pink toy broom, mop, and dustpan that his Grandpa Kathy bought for him at Target. God forbid we make household chore toys gender neutral. What a shame it would be for kids of both genders to learn how to keep a house clean. A heterosexual dude might actually pick up his own socks off the floor or mop the kitchen. And we can't have that. Otherwise, what would straight women have left to bitch about?
Speaking of domestic duties, I sprained my thumb today putting on the couch slipcover. I know, I'm wild. I was tucking the fabric around the cushion and put my full weight into it. Lo and behold my thumb was trapped in a fold of fabric that held it like a sling while the rest of my hand plunged into the couch. I heard a terrible crunch sound and an immediate wave of pain that made me feel like I was going to puke. Basically my thumb folded over backwards at the joint where it meets my hand. I've had an ice pack on it for hours, but it still hurts if I bend my thumb or try to use it for anything thumbs are used for (picking things up, for example). I also hurt my back, though I'm not sure what triggered it today. But a few weeks ago I hurt my back opening a window. Today it hurts like that again, but I didn't do anything so daring and risky. I think I'm just getting old.
I spent the past couple of nights in a hotel room in Lansing with Stacy and Gavin. Stacy had a work-related conference to attend and I figured it would be fun to go with her. Kind of a dry run for Gavin since we'll be spending a week in a hotel in Mexico. Gavin was a trooper. He slept and napped really well in the Pack and Play the hotel provided. This bodes well for Mexico. On Thursday while Stacy was at the conference Gavin and I went to the Potter Park Zoo where we saw spider monkeys, peacocks, a wolf, a lion, and some bald eagles. We also saw a tiger and a snow leopard super up close. The enclosures are much closer to the people at the Potter Park Zoo than at the Detroit Zoo and both the tiger and snow leopard came right up to the front while we were there. You can't, like, touch them or anything. Well, I mean, I guess you could, but you'd have to go over the little railing and then reach through the enclosure fence. We refrained. We did, however, touch goats in the petting zoo portion of the park. The only animals there to be petted were goats. There was a little vending machine -- you know, the kind you usually see in the lobby of an old credit union or VFW hall filled with Skittles and/or shelled peanuts -- that you could put a quarter in and get food pellets to feed them. I didn't have any change so Gavin almost missed out on that experience but a nice little girl (she was, like, 10 maybe) handed him a couple of pellets that had fallen on the ground under the machine. While it was against the rules to feed the goats inside of the enclosure, we did it anyway because that's where we were. Gavin fed two goats and then dropped the third pellet. To my horror he recovered it and tried feeding it to a very disinterested goat. Disinterested, I suppose, because Gavin was offering him goat poo, not food. And then before I could use the proffered hand sanitizer dispenser, Gavin stuck his thumb in his mouth. So far we have yet to have cause to tell the story of how Gavin got rotavirus at the zoo.
By Friday morning Gavin had enough of Lansing. When I asked him if he wanted to go to the science museum he responded, "Go home." Sadly for him, that was not an option as we still had a morning to kill before his nap time. So I took him to the Impression 5 Science Center in downtown Lansing. It's an interesting place. They have a room called First Impressions that's for babies and toddlers but that room had a class going on when we first got there so we checked out the rest of the museum first. The museum is in an old building with work and creaky wood floors and, from what I could tell, no air conditioning. This was especially evident in the room with giant bubble wands and stuff, including a platform you could stand on and pull a rope so that you were standing inside a huge bubble tube. There's something similar at the Ann Arbor hands on museum, though I don't recall the platform being covered in bubble solution before. In any case, it meant a lot of bubble solution tracked onto the floor. It would have been a slippery mess had they not put down rugs. Unfortunately, the combination of humid weather and bubble soaked rugs made the bubble room smell pretty terrible. I redirected Gavin's attention as soon as possible. Things that had been touted in a Michigan for kids' guidebook I have weren't all that in real life. The giant heart model, for example, didn't hold my or Gavin's attention. The place were you throw stuff was difficult to navigate and did not have clear instructions. But the First Impressions room made up for all of that. It was one of the nicest, cleanest, most kid-friendly play place I've ever brought Gavin to. Totally worth the price of admission if you have a wee one. Gavin had a blast there and he didn't even make it over to the water table section, which is one of the room's highlights. There's a big wooden play structure with two slides, a kid-sized toy house with a kitchen and other domesticities, plenty of toys and games and blocks and dolls. Like many places where babies and toddlers climb and play, it's a shoe-free zone, which I totally understand but since it was summer almost everyone, including me, was barefoot. If only I always kept an extra pair of socks for me stashed in his diaper bag. So far no sign of any disgusting foot diseases.
Probably the best part of the day was eating lunch with Gavin outside of the science museum. I'd pilfered bread, jelly, and peanut butter from the morning's continental breakfast and assembled some sandwiches for us. I packed some dried apple snack for Gavin ("apple chips" he calls them. We both do). We ate on the yellow bench next to a model of the sun in the museum's huge scale model of the solar system. Gavin sat in front of me and leaned back, happy to take a breather from the whirlwind of the past two days. But it was the sweetest lunch I've eaten in a long time.
I feel lucky that Gavin is affectionate. He woke me up this morning with a hug and a kiss. Such a sweet boy.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011: Both sides
Gavin hugs himself. He hugs other people, too -- and stuffed animals, for that matter. But he's got this hugging thing down so well that he'll even say, "Gavin hug," and wrap his little arms around himself. His hugging technique is quite good, too. He hugs you and then says, "Other side," and moves his head to the other side of your head so that both sides of you are good and hugged.
Sorting. Gavin's all about sorting things by color and other like-features. He's got this little cart full of blocks and he painstakingly takes the blocks out and forms long rows of all red or all yellow blocks on the floor in his room. Or he'll choose two colors and put the blocks in the little cart careful to separate the two. At his end of the year daycare party one of the women from the toddler room (Gavin was in the infant room but would hang out in the toddler room when there was room for him since he is technically a toddler. He will be in the toddler room officially in the fall) made a point to tell us about Gavin's propensity for sorting and she said it like it was a big deal. Like she was impressed because of how advanced he was. I like to think that Gavin is probably going to win the Nobel Prize for Sorting one of these days. One of the other day care teachers also remarked about how smart Gavin is while we were at the party. I know that at this stage of the game kids are all developing at different rates and some things come earlier than others. But I also like to think that Gavin is really exceptional. Because, you know, he is. I know I'm biased because you can't really trust anyone who is madly in love, but I'm hip to the fact that my kid's no dummy. And so handsome to boot! Stacy says I tell Gavin he is handsome (or some variation) too often. "I don't want him to think that's the only thing we value him for." She actually said that to me. I really don't think that's going to be his perception. It's not like we're neglecting to teach him how to read and stuff. But I am exceptionally shallow, so I can understand where her concern comes from.
Gavin's going to be two in less than one month now. Holy shit.
We're getting our kitchen redone so we've been eating at a lot of restaurants. I think I've mentioned how thankful I am that Gavin is really good when we go out to eat. Here he is the other day sitting proudly in a booth at Panera. That's his Grandma Kathy next to him. Or her arm, at least. I mean, all of her was there, but only her arm made it into this photo. No weird dismemberment stuff going on here. He at mac and cheese and he ate all of it. My mom says she thinks he has hollow legs. He does eat a lot. Some times I worry we're over feeding him and dooming him to a life of obesity, but I realize this isn't rational. He might be going through a growth spurt right now because he's sleeping a bit more than usual and, well, he just seems bigger. Stacy put him on the scale at my mom's and she claims he's still 30 lbs. I think he's more than that now. I don't know how accurate the scale is. After all, it's in the shape of a giant blue plastic fish. Not exactly doctor's office quality. This photo was taken with my cell phone so the quality isn't great, but you still get an idea for how big this kid is. You can also see how beautifully curly his hair is. And Stacy wonders why I tell him he's beautiful all the time. It's just because I'm thinking out loud. I know she thinks it, too.
Stacy signed Gavin up for Spanish classes this summer. The two of them went to a sample class and she was all about it. So now he's going to join the Bright Loritos. Specifically he'll be a Parakeet. I hope he likes it. I didn't get to go to the sample class because our cabinets arrived at the same moment they needed to leave. So I got to stay home and lug stuff out of the garage to make room for giant boxes instead.
Gavin calls the guy who's doing our kitchen "John. Man." You ask, "Who tore up our kitchen?" and he says, "John. Man." When he came home from his last day of daycare there was nothing left in the kitchen and when he saw it he said, "Happened?" And he quickly assumed a man had done it. He's now totally unfazed by the whole kitchen thing. He likes to watch John work and is curious, but he doesn't seem to think it's especially strange that we wash dishes in the bath tub now and go to a lot of restaurants. He's a pretty adaptable kid. We're lucky like that.
Sorting. Gavin's all about sorting things by color and other like-features. He's got this little cart full of blocks and he painstakingly takes the blocks out and forms long rows of all red or all yellow blocks on the floor in his room. Or he'll choose two colors and put the blocks in the little cart careful to separate the two. At his end of the year daycare party one of the women from the toddler room (Gavin was in the infant room but would hang out in the toddler room when there was room for him since he is technically a toddler. He will be in the toddler room officially in the fall) made a point to tell us about Gavin's propensity for sorting and she said it like it was a big deal. Like she was impressed because of how advanced he was. I like to think that Gavin is probably going to win the Nobel Prize for Sorting one of these days. One of the other day care teachers also remarked about how smart Gavin is while we were at the party. I know that at this stage of the game kids are all developing at different rates and some things come earlier than others. But I also like to think that Gavin is really exceptional. Because, you know, he is. I know I'm biased because you can't really trust anyone who is madly in love, but I'm hip to the fact that my kid's no dummy. And so handsome to boot! Stacy says I tell Gavin he is handsome (or some variation) too often. "I don't want him to think that's the only thing we value him for." She actually said that to me. I really don't think that's going to be his perception. It's not like we're neglecting to teach him how to read and stuff. But I am exceptionally shallow, so I can understand where her concern comes from.
Gavin's going to be two in less than one month now. Holy shit.
Stacy signed Gavin up for Spanish classes this summer. The two of them went to a sample class and she was all about it. So now he's going to join the Bright Loritos. Specifically he'll be a Parakeet. I hope he likes it. I didn't get to go to the sample class because our cabinets arrived at the same moment they needed to leave. So I got to stay home and lug stuff out of the garage to make room for giant boxes instead.
Gavin calls the guy who's doing our kitchen "John. Man." You ask, "Who tore up our kitchen?" and he says, "John. Man." When he came home from his last day of daycare there was nothing left in the kitchen and when he saw it he said, "Happened?" And he quickly assumed a man had done it. He's now totally unfazed by the whole kitchen thing. He likes to watch John work and is curious, but he doesn't seem to think it's especially strange that we wash dishes in the bath tub now and go to a lot of restaurants. He's a pretty adaptable kid. We're lucky like that.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011: Sentence level
Full sentences. Short ones, mind you, but full sentences. The other day while he was in bed with Stacy and I nursing (yes, he's still nursing. Twice a day for the most part, before bed and in the morning. It occurs to me that some folks might think this is weird. I can recall many a person saying that it's time to stop nursing once the child can ask for it because that's creepy. And I would have been inclined to agree before I had my own kid. But it's not creepy. So there) I started to get out of bed and said, "I have to pee" (I'm very classy) and he repeated it, clear as can be. He just talks so much now. I can't even begin to list all of the words he knows now, both in Spanish and English.
Speaking of which, last night we went out to eat at an Indian restaurant (Gavin is super well behaved at restaurants, by the way. Very patient and quiet) and when the waiter brought Gavin his high chair I told Gavin to say thank you and Gavin said, "Gracias" and the waiter looked at me and said, "He's Mexican?" Uh, yes. Totally Mexican. We found him on Craigslist.
I reported a little while ago that Gavin had peed in his little potty chair. Update: no more waste of any kind has been expelled into said potty. When he's naked he often says he wants to sit on it to pee, but that lasts all of two seconds and he's off running bare ass down the hallway.
A lot of thumb sucking advice from strangers the older Gavin gets. I may have already mentioned this, but several times now people I hardly know (the lady at the pharmacy) to people I know not at all (a.k.a. strangers) have taken it upon themselves to educate/inform/reassure me about Gavin's thumb sucking when they see him doing it. Thanks, everybody! I really appreciate your concern, not to mention the veiled insinuation that I'm either clueless or a bad mom. I know a thing or two about thumb sucking. I sucked my thumb until I was 30. Actually, that's not true. And not funny. I would be really said if Gavin was an adult thumb sucker because that's a little weird. But I did suck my thumb until before Kindergarten (approximately. I wasn't exactly keeping my LiveJournal updated back then) and I turned out (arguably) okay. So sure, maybe we'll want to discourage it at some point, but I think it's a little too early to be worrying about this.
Gavin is going to be two next month. It's pretty amazing that he is both already two and only two. Apparently I am not the only person surprised by this as my dad thought he was turning 3. "He just...well...looks fucking bigger!" he wrote in an email. "But a cute vato nonetheless." See? I told you Gavin was Mexican.
Back in December I mentioned that Gavin attended a birthday party at Pump It Up and how much fun he had there. Stacy and I have been mulling over having his 2nd birthday party there ever since. Yesterday I finally sealed the deal and booked my boy a party at "the Inflatable Party Place." The cost of the party is around $200 which isn't an astronomical amount, but I can't help but be very cognizant of the fact that $200 IS a lot of money for kids who don't have things like, oh, food. Last year we suggested people make a donation to the North American Bear Center and NABC received a minimum of $125 in donations (not everyone who donated told us they did). Not bad work for a one-year-old. So this year we're thinking of what organization or charity to suggest for folks who want to donate in honor of Gavin (mind you, we're not asking for donations in lieu of gifts because I've found that this makes some people angry -- ahem, Lisa -- because they feel it takes all of the fun out of things. And I totally see that point. But it is also totally fine with us if the donation IS the gift. Gavin's just a really fortunate kid and if his birthday can do a little good in the world then amen). Stacy said we should think of something that Gavin would choose if he could. Right now he's obsessed with garbage and garbage trucks, firetrucks, and construction vehicles. Feel free to leave any suggestions in the comments.
Speaking of which, last night we went out to eat at an Indian restaurant (Gavin is super well behaved at restaurants, by the way. Very patient and quiet) and when the waiter brought Gavin his high chair I told Gavin to say thank you and Gavin said, "Gracias" and the waiter looked at me and said, "He's Mexican?" Uh, yes. Totally Mexican. We found him on Craigslist.
I reported a little while ago that Gavin had peed in his little potty chair. Update: no more waste of any kind has been expelled into said potty. When he's naked he often says he wants to sit on it to pee, but that lasts all of two seconds and he's off running bare ass down the hallway.
A lot of thumb sucking advice from strangers the older Gavin gets. I may have already mentioned this, but several times now people I hardly know (the lady at the pharmacy) to people I know not at all (a.k.a. strangers) have taken it upon themselves to educate/inform/reassure me about Gavin's thumb sucking when they see him doing it. Thanks, everybody! I really appreciate your concern, not to mention the veiled insinuation that I'm either clueless or a bad mom. I know a thing or two about thumb sucking. I sucked my thumb until I was 30. Actually, that's not true. And not funny. I would be really said if Gavin was an adult thumb sucker because that's a little weird. But I did suck my thumb until before Kindergarten (approximately. I wasn't exactly keeping my LiveJournal updated back then) and I turned out (arguably) okay. So sure, maybe we'll want to discourage it at some point, but I think it's a little too early to be worrying about this.
Gavin is going to be two next month. It's pretty amazing that he is both already two and only two. Apparently I am not the only person surprised by this as my dad thought he was turning 3. "He just...well...looks fucking bigger!" he wrote in an email. "But a cute vato nonetheless." See? I told you Gavin was Mexican.
Back in December I mentioned that Gavin attended a birthday party at Pump It Up and how much fun he had there. Stacy and I have been mulling over having his 2nd birthday party there ever since. Yesterday I finally sealed the deal and booked my boy a party at "the Inflatable Party Place." The cost of the party is around $200 which isn't an astronomical amount, but I can't help but be very cognizant of the fact that $200 IS a lot of money for kids who don't have things like, oh, food. Last year we suggested people make a donation to the North American Bear Center and NABC received a minimum of $125 in donations (not everyone who donated told us they did). Not bad work for a one-year-old. So this year we're thinking of what organization or charity to suggest for folks who want to donate in honor of Gavin (mind you, we're not asking for donations in lieu of gifts because I've found that this makes some people angry -- ahem, Lisa -- because they feel it takes all of the fun out of things. And I totally see that point. But it is also totally fine with us if the donation IS the gift. Gavin's just a really fortunate kid and if his birthday can do a little good in the world then amen). Stacy said we should think of something that Gavin would choose if he could. Right now he's obsessed with garbage and garbage trucks, firetrucks, and construction vehicles. Feel free to leave any suggestions in the comments.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011: Worker Bear
My son is huge now. He's so tall. Things he couldn't reach even a month ago are now within easy grasp. Everything on the counter now is in jeopardy now. At the gym he can reach up and press the elevator buttons without a boost. He can open the gate in the yard. He can open the back door. Stacy was folding socks yesterday and said she kept mixing his socks up with ours, not being able to tell them apart (this is, I'm pretty sure, an exaggeration, but you get the point. Soon his socks will be much, much bigger than ours and we'll be doing entire loads of laundry that consist of two pairs of boxers and a dozen giant sweat socks).
Dude just stole my Japanese housewife shoes and ran away with them. He's putting them into an empty clothes basket and climbing in after them. Now he's abandoned that pursuit and he's putting the shoes on and walking around. "On," he just said to me smiling. And from the smell of it he's filled his pants. Mommy's on the case, though, luckily for me.
Gavin's biggest development is in language. He's stringing sentences together. Two or three words instead of just one. Like at lunch he wanted more raspberries so he was just saying, "Mas" and then "please." And so I encouraged him to say what it was he wanted more of. The result was a very halting but complete sentence: "Mas rasp, please." There's a pause in between each word where you can hear the gears cranking in his head.
He also puts his own dishes into the dishwasher after we eat. If you don't have your kids -- or your wife or your husband or anyone else who regularly eats at your house -- do this you totally should. Granted, it's easier with a toddler, I think. Gavin is in a "likes to help" stage and we encourage that as much as we can, even when his "helping" makes a task take twice or ten times as long (like when he helps sweep and uses his little broom to scatter whatever pile you're about to sweep into the dust pan all over the floor again). One thing I've always hated about dinner is the cleaning up. When everyone takes his or her own dish to the sink or dishwasher it really makes a big difference. He also has to clean up any messes he's made on purpose. Like yesterday he was eating tofu scramble with peas in it and he'd picked out and eaten most of the tofu leaving a couple dozen peas behind. When he'd decided he was done he spiked the bowl onto the floor. "Looks like you've got a mess to clean up," I said. And so after getting his hands and face wiped he got down on the floor and Stacy showed him that he needed to pick each and every pea up and put it back in the bowl. Since it was nap time he wasn't in a mental state where he could do this. He was getting really hyper and couldn't focus on a task like this, especially one he didn't want to do. So we said okay, let's take a nap. You can finish this when you wake up. And that's what we did. He wanted to go outside and play and we were all, "Sure, no problem. As soon as those peas are picked up we can go play." I helped him pick the peas up, but not unless he was actively participating. I mean, he is after all not even two years old. He has definite attention limits. But he was really good about cleaning up and got the job done (it was not, of course, perfect. When he was outside with Stacy I swept up the little pieces of tofu shrapnel and such). This whole thing is something else from Ain't Misbehavin' by Alyson Schafer. Seriously good book. It's also in line with the main point I took away from The Baby Whisperer, which is start how you'd like to end up. Meaning, if you don't want your kid to sleep in bed with you when he's two years, don't start having him sleep in bed with you when he's two weeks. In Gavin's case now, my hope is that by making cleaning up a routine thing he makes a habit of it and it just becomes something he does automatically. Not that I'm delusional. I realize that there will be times where there's going to be a battle of wills). It makes a lot more sense than waiting until some undetermined age and then saying, "I know you've been living a life of careless leisure where your moms do everything for you, but that life is over now, Buddy." That's just begging for resentment. So, yeah, we're basically training him to be our slave.
Dude just stole my Japanese housewife shoes and ran away with them. He's putting them into an empty clothes basket and climbing in after them. Now he's abandoned that pursuit and he's putting the shoes on and walking around. "On," he just said to me smiling. And from the smell of it he's filled his pants. Mommy's on the case, though, luckily for me.
Gavin's biggest development is in language. He's stringing sentences together. Two or three words instead of just one. Like at lunch he wanted more raspberries so he was just saying, "Mas" and then "please." And so I encouraged him to say what it was he wanted more of. The result was a very halting but complete sentence: "Mas rasp, please." There's a pause in between each word where you can hear the gears cranking in his head.
He also puts his own dishes into the dishwasher after we eat. If you don't have your kids -- or your wife or your husband or anyone else who regularly eats at your house -- do this you totally should. Granted, it's easier with a toddler, I think. Gavin is in a "likes to help" stage and we encourage that as much as we can, even when his "helping" makes a task take twice or ten times as long (like when he helps sweep and uses his little broom to scatter whatever pile you're about to sweep into the dust pan all over the floor again). One thing I've always hated about dinner is the cleaning up. When everyone takes his or her own dish to the sink or dishwasher it really makes a big difference. He also has to clean up any messes he's made on purpose. Like yesterday he was eating tofu scramble with peas in it and he'd picked out and eaten most of the tofu leaving a couple dozen peas behind. When he'd decided he was done he spiked the bowl onto the floor. "Looks like you've got a mess to clean up," I said. And so after getting his hands and face wiped he got down on the floor and Stacy showed him that he needed to pick each and every pea up and put it back in the bowl. Since it was nap time he wasn't in a mental state where he could do this. He was getting really hyper and couldn't focus on a task like this, especially one he didn't want to do. So we said okay, let's take a nap. You can finish this when you wake up. And that's what we did. He wanted to go outside and play and we were all, "Sure, no problem. As soon as those peas are picked up we can go play." I helped him pick the peas up, but not unless he was actively participating. I mean, he is after all not even two years old. He has definite attention limits. But he was really good about cleaning up and got the job done (it was not, of course, perfect. When he was outside with Stacy I swept up the little pieces of tofu shrapnel and such). This whole thing is something else from Ain't Misbehavin' by Alyson Schafer. Seriously good book. It's also in line with the main point I took away from The Baby Whisperer, which is start how you'd like to end up. Meaning, if you don't want your kid to sleep in bed with you when he's two years, don't start having him sleep in bed with you when he's two weeks. In Gavin's case now, my hope is that by making cleaning up a routine thing he makes a habit of it and it just becomes something he does automatically. Not that I'm delusional. I realize that there will be times where there's going to be a battle of wills). It makes a lot more sense than waiting until some undetermined age and then saying, "I know you've been living a life of careless leisure where your moms do everything for you, but that life is over now, Buddy." That's just begging for resentment. So, yeah, we're basically training him to be our slave.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011: Shiner
Gavin has a black eye. He's had it since Monday. We're guessing he got it Sunday evening before he went to bed. Or maybe after he went to bed. Who's to say he doesn't sneak out at night and go to the Booby Trap? It's not terribly far from our house, after all. And he does like boobies. But since The Booby Trap is currently closed for renovations (at least I think it's closed. It hasn't seemed open the last few times I drove by. But it's not like I stopped by and tried to get in) the more likely cause of Gavin's black eye is his post-bath nekkid head bump under the kitchen table on Sunday. I was just outside the room so I didn't see it. Stacy was there but since he was under the table I doubt she saw exactly what happened. And it's not like the kid hitting his head is a major occurrence. Most of the time it's just a bump. In any case, as of yesterday his shiner is in full bloom. It doesn't seem to bother him at all. He doesn't even know he has it. But I do. And it kills me a little bit.
On Monday he and I went to the Henry Ford Museum. I have to say, when you're out in public with a black-eyed toddler you feel compelled to explain to everyone who looks at your son that no, you do not beat him. At least that was my experience. He was such a good boy at the museum. Had a lot of fun sitting in the olden days car and in the giant combine. I'm glad we have a membership because then there's no pressure to see and do everything. I can let him choose the way to go and what he wants to see. We ate lunch in the cafe and he had mac and cheese and blueberry yogurt. I tried some mashed potatoes but they were way heavy on the garlic and neither I nor Gavin wanted to eat them. In fact, I ended up eating nothing since I don't eat yogurt or cheese. Why can't the Henry Ford serve vegan mac and cheese? Maybe they could get Earthen Jar to sell them their recipe. Theirs is the best.
In any case, speaking of Gavin's good behavior, Stacy and I have been using techniques from Ain't Misbehavin': Tactics for Tantrums, Meltdowns, Bedtime Blues and Other Perfectly Normal Kid Behaviors by Alyson Schafer. She espouses a democratic style of parenting where kids are given choices and are also treated as human beings worthy of respect and consideration. We've always aimed for this style of parenting, but Schafer's book really helps put these ideas into practice. One of the things she says is that kids need choices. We've found this to be especially true when Gavin doesn't want to do something. For example, if I say, "Gavin, we need to head into your room so that I can change your diaper," Gavin is quite likely going to say, "No." Maybe what he's engaged in is more interesting than diaper changing. Maybe he just wants to assert himself and he knows that "no" is one of the most powerful words he has. Instead of saying something like, "Oh, yes you are," and scooping him up and bringing him there myself," I would say, "Yes, Gavin. It's pajama time. Can you walk to your bedroom or do I need to carry you?" Over and over he picks the choice that makes him the most independent. He'd rather walk, thank you very much (and as he creeps past 30 lbs. I'd rather he walk, too).
Schafer also offers a really great way to get your kid to do what you say. For example, Gavin really wanted some Cheerios yesterday. We were hanging out in the kitchen. I was doing prep work for dinner and he was pulling every single thing out from the cupboard. This is something he likes to do. It makes a hell of a mess, though (and for the record this particular cabinet doesn't contain things made of glass for this very reason). I don't mind when he does this, but when the floor becomes impassible I ask him to start putting things back, which often isn't a problem since he seems to like taking things out and putting them back in (for now, anyway). Well this time he had no interest in putting things away. But he did have a keen interest in Cheerios (which I don't get. I have always disliked Cheerios. Granted, as a parent I understand their utility, but still don't know why anyone likes to eat them). And so when he asked (and he almost always says "please," which is adorable. We're working on making "thanks" more common, too) I got out a little container and put Cheerios in it. When he asked for them again I told him he could have them, but that he had a mess to clean up first. And so away he went, putting things back into the cupboard. It made me feel a bit like Wonder Woman but without the unitard.
In any case, I highly recommend this book and I really dig the principles of democratic parenting (although at one point she does say that sarcasm is not parenting, which I can't help but take personally). I feel compelled to point out that democratic parenting is not the same as permissive or push-over parenting where the kids do whatever they want without consequences because their parents can't say no to them or don't have the wherewithal to give them choices and to be consistent. I mean, a democratic parent is still the boss. It's just best to remember that the best bosses aren't assholes.
On Monday he and I went to the Henry Ford Museum. I have to say, when you're out in public with a black-eyed toddler you feel compelled to explain to everyone who looks at your son that no, you do not beat him. At least that was my experience. He was such a good boy at the museum. Had a lot of fun sitting in the olden days car and in the giant combine. I'm glad we have a membership because then there's no pressure to see and do everything. I can let him choose the way to go and what he wants to see. We ate lunch in the cafe and he had mac and cheese and blueberry yogurt. I tried some mashed potatoes but they were way heavy on the garlic and neither I nor Gavin wanted to eat them. In fact, I ended up eating nothing since I don't eat yogurt or cheese. Why can't the Henry Ford serve vegan mac and cheese? Maybe they could get Earthen Jar to sell them their recipe. Theirs is the best.
In any case, speaking of Gavin's good behavior, Stacy and I have been using techniques from Ain't Misbehavin': Tactics for Tantrums, Meltdowns, Bedtime Blues and Other Perfectly Normal Kid Behaviors by Alyson Schafer. She espouses a democratic style of parenting where kids are given choices and are also treated as human beings worthy of respect and consideration. We've always aimed for this style of parenting, but Schafer's book really helps put these ideas into practice. One of the things she says is that kids need choices. We've found this to be especially true when Gavin doesn't want to do something. For example, if I say, "Gavin, we need to head into your room so that I can change your diaper," Gavin is quite likely going to say, "No." Maybe what he's engaged in is more interesting than diaper changing. Maybe he just wants to assert himself and he knows that "no" is one of the most powerful words he has. Instead of saying something like, "Oh, yes you are," and scooping him up and bringing him there myself," I would say, "Yes, Gavin. It's pajama time. Can you walk to your bedroom or do I need to carry you?" Over and over he picks the choice that makes him the most independent. He'd rather walk, thank you very much (and as he creeps past 30 lbs. I'd rather he walk, too).
Schafer also offers a really great way to get your kid to do what you say. For example, Gavin really wanted some Cheerios yesterday. We were hanging out in the kitchen. I was doing prep work for dinner and he was pulling every single thing out from the cupboard. This is something he likes to do. It makes a hell of a mess, though (and for the record this particular cabinet doesn't contain things made of glass for this very reason). I don't mind when he does this, but when the floor becomes impassible I ask him to start putting things back, which often isn't a problem since he seems to like taking things out and putting them back in (for now, anyway). Well this time he had no interest in putting things away. But he did have a keen interest in Cheerios (which I don't get. I have always disliked Cheerios. Granted, as a parent I understand their utility, but still don't know why anyone likes to eat them). And so when he asked (and he almost always says "please," which is adorable. We're working on making "thanks" more common, too) I got out a little container and put Cheerios in it. When he asked for them again I told him he could have them, but that he had a mess to clean up first. And so away he went, putting things back into the cupboard. It made me feel a bit like Wonder Woman but without the unitard.
In any case, I highly recommend this book and I really dig the principles of democratic parenting (although at one point she does say that sarcasm is not parenting, which I can't help but take personally). I feel compelled to point out that democratic parenting is not the same as permissive or push-over parenting where the kids do whatever they want without consequences because their parents can't say no to them or don't have the wherewithal to give them choices and to be consistent. I mean, a democratic parent is still the boss. It's just best to remember that the best bosses aren't assholes.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011: It's pee!
Gavin just peed. In his little potty. All by himself. He and Stacy were getting ready to get in the bath and Gavin announced that he had to pee, which is something he does every time he gets ready for a bath, often while he's in the bath so that he may be airlifted out onto the potty chair. It's always a false alarm. So Stacy didn't think much of it this time. Except that he did it. Stacy said a look of concentration passed over his face and sure enough he was peeing. He held his penis the entire time and peed all over his hand, but it all went into the potty. I got to witness him dumping his pee into the big toilet, very proud indeed.
We haven't been pushing the potty training thing. But we brought his little potty up from the basement and put it in the bathroom. We told him what it was for and told him he could sit there whenever he wanted, but we didn't make a big deal out of it. Well, we did tell him he had to stop taking out the bowl part and wearing it as a hat. And we also had to work on him keeping the bowl part in when he sat down. For awhile he was a fan of sitting there sans bowl. Since that kind of defeats the whole purpose we were against that idea. In any case, so far it seems like our hands off potty training technique is working. He should probably be done and accident free in a couple of days. Or maybe by the time he wakes up in the morning.
Lisa's son Brenden, who is just six weeks older than Gavin, is potty trained now. Already wearing "big boy" underwear and everything. Actually, I'm kind of excited to buy "big boy" underwear. You can get some really cute ones. But I'm also excited to let him pick them out (I strongly suspect he'll prefer drawers with trucks or cars of some sort on them). I realize it's a little soon for that, but still. I remember when my brother was little and started wearing underwear he had some with GI JOE on the butt and he would wear them backwards so he could see the picture. He probably still does that.
We've been eating dinner as a family, something Stacy and I really haven't done for years. We've always had differing schedules, not to mention we like totally different foods. But I think it's good for Gavin, and for us, if we have family meals as often as possible. I've even started to cook. On Thursday I made cinnamon apple quesadillas and they were really good. I got the recipes from The Garden of Vegan by Tanya Barnard and Sarah Kramer. I have a bunch of vegan cookbooks and up until now I've only ever really used them for cupcakes and other deserts. But now I've got to put food on my family so I'm busting them out. I've got another book by Barnard and Kramer, too, and I like both of them, but just about every recipe calls for onions and I hate onions. I hate onions more than almost anything. I know I'm not alone because there are no less than 10 I Hate Onions pages on Facebook. So far in recipes that call for onions I just omit them or I add some onion powder. I also hate garlic. Again, I can deal with garlic powder. Other foods I hate: peppers of any variety, mushrooms, tomatoes, black licorice. And I'm sure there are others. It's a rough life. So far Gavin doesn't seem to hate anything, though he does often refuse green vegetables.
Man, I have a headache right now. I'm tempted to put in my splint. Ha. I don't even call it that. I'm talking about my bite guard that I got from the dentist. It's pretty awesome, try not to be too jealous. I was grinding my teeth down to dust every night and waking up with a really sore jaw and headaches. Anyway, when I went to pick up the "dental device," as it says on the back of the "handy case," which it says on the card that came from the place that made it, the hygienist told me that she wears one and that she puts hers on when she has a headache and that it really helps. I don't understand how such a thing works, but she says it relaxes the muscles. What muscles I do not know. I didn't feel like I could ask for additional details, especially since she said, "Now, don't do that all the time," as if I would love wearing the thing so much I would never take it off for any reason. Also, if I had headaches all the time, I think I would probably be in need of something more serious than a dental splint, like maybe a doctor.
We haven't been pushing the potty training thing. But we brought his little potty up from the basement and put it in the bathroom. We told him what it was for and told him he could sit there whenever he wanted, but we didn't make a big deal out of it. Well, we did tell him he had to stop taking out the bowl part and wearing it as a hat. And we also had to work on him keeping the bowl part in when he sat down. For awhile he was a fan of sitting there sans bowl. Since that kind of defeats the whole purpose we were against that idea. In any case, so far it seems like our hands off potty training technique is working. He should probably be done and accident free in a couple of days. Or maybe by the time he wakes up in the morning.
Lisa's son Brenden, who is just six weeks older than Gavin, is potty trained now. Already wearing "big boy" underwear and everything. Actually, I'm kind of excited to buy "big boy" underwear. You can get some really cute ones. But I'm also excited to let him pick them out (I strongly suspect he'll prefer drawers with trucks or cars of some sort on them). I realize it's a little soon for that, but still. I remember when my brother was little and started wearing underwear he had some with GI JOE on the butt and he would wear them backwards so he could see the picture. He probably still does that.
We've been eating dinner as a family, something Stacy and I really haven't done for years. We've always had differing schedules, not to mention we like totally different foods. But I think it's good for Gavin, and for us, if we have family meals as often as possible. I've even started to cook. On Thursday I made cinnamon apple quesadillas and they were really good. I got the recipes from The Garden of Vegan by Tanya Barnard and Sarah Kramer. I have a bunch of vegan cookbooks and up until now I've only ever really used them for cupcakes and other deserts. But now I've got to put food on my family so I'm busting them out. I've got another book by Barnard and Kramer, too, and I like both of them, but just about every recipe calls for onions and I hate onions. I hate onions more than almost anything. I know I'm not alone because there are no less than 10 I Hate Onions pages on Facebook. So far in recipes that call for onions I just omit them or I add some onion powder. I also hate garlic. Again, I can deal with garlic powder. Other foods I hate: peppers of any variety, mushrooms, tomatoes, black licorice. And I'm sure there are others. It's a rough life. So far Gavin doesn't seem to hate anything, though he does often refuse green vegetables.
Man, I have a headache right now. I'm tempted to put in my splint. Ha. I don't even call it that. I'm talking about my bite guard that I got from the dentist. It's pretty awesome, try not to be too jealous. I was grinding my teeth down to dust every night and waking up with a really sore jaw and headaches. Anyway, when I went to pick up the "dental device," as it says on the back of the "handy case," which it says on the card that came from the place that made it, the hygienist told me that she wears one and that she puts hers on when she has a headache and that it really helps. I don't understand how such a thing works, but she says it relaxes the muscles. What muscles I do not know. I didn't feel like I could ask for additional details, especially since she said, "Now, don't do that all the time," as if I would love wearing the thing so much I would never take it off for any reason. Also, if I had headaches all the time, I think I would probably be in need of something more serious than a dental splint, like maybe a doctor.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011: Mr. Crabby Pants
Speaking of art, Stacy and Gavin went to an art show tonight at the school. It was school art, stuff by kids, some of whom are probably Stacy's students. There were no reports of Gavin Aggression at the kids' art show though he did bump up against an art project and take much of the green chalk it was made with home with him on his shirt.
Stacy and I suspect that Gavin is teething, which could account for some of his crabbiness lately. He's been drooling a lot and his fingers are in his mouth constantly. I took him to Greenfield Village yesterday and he chewed voraciously on the rubber top of his sippy cup pretty much the entire time we were there. He wasn't crabby, though. Pretty happy for the most part. Maybe a little overwhelmed at times. But I think he dug it. We went on the train, which was the highlight for him, I think. It was noisy and dirty. The big plume of dirty smoke that came from the engine often wafted back into our faces. By the end of the ride Gavin had little soot flecks all over his face. I am sure I did, too. Gavin also got to sit in a Model T, though we didn't ride in one. He also was really fascinated with the carousel, but sadly we didn't have time to ride it. I had actually completely forgotten the carousel existed and only stumbled upon it while we were making our way to the cafeteria. By the time we were done eating -- or, really, by the time HE was done eating (mac and cheese, which he loved. A first for him. And a bagel with super old timely unsalted peanut butter that he liked much better than I did) -- there wasn't time to do anything but make the laborious trek back to the front of the park to the exit. The trek was laborious because I didn't bring the stroller. It's not that I forgot the stroller. No, it was in the back of the van where I left it. I made a choice not to bring it. I just remembered the last time we were there a couple weeks ago Gavin wanted to walk everywhere and Stacy or I would have to push the stroller while the other corralled Gavin and made sure he didn't get hit by any horse drawn carriages. I knew I couldn't do both of those things myself. I also thought since we didn't have anywhere we had to do or go see (we have a membership so we can always go back), letting Gavin meander would be fine. And it was for the most part. The train depot was right at the entrance and so I paid the $4 and we rode the rails like hobos (only a slight exaggeration considering the post-ride grime factor). We saw some horses, he sat in the car. But then it was dangerously close to lunch time. I hadn't planned on eating there but knew we wouldn't make it home in time so I thought what the hell, why not? So we made the trek to get food and then, as I said, it was time to go. Like, really, really past time to go. This is when the lack of stroller became a problem. Because Gavin was getting tired and time was actually a factor. When I let him walk he would often just sit down on the sidewalk like, "Hey, just chillin' here on the concrete." Or he'd veer off in the wrong direction ("wrong" being anywhere but directly ahead to the exit). Then he wanted to stop and see the sheep again, then he heard an airplane overhead, then he heard the train but couldn't see it and wanted to go off on a train hunt. Then he decided he was done with walking and wanted to be carried. I knew from the start it would come to this. I was just hoping it would be closer to the exit. So I carried all 30 Lbs. of Gavin out of the park and into the car. By the time we'd pulled out of the parking lot it was way past his nap time. "Don't fall asleep in the car," I said and much to my surprise he didn't. He was very animated all the way home. So much so that I worried it would be impossible to get him to take a nap. Thankfully it wasn't. He was good and tired out I guess.Apparently there was a big thunder storm this morning. Lots of loud thunder that woke Gavin up an hour early. I slept through it. Never heard a thing. But his early wake-up can also be blamed for his crabbiness today. Or our bad parenting. That could be it, too. Or the fact that he's a single child thus spoiled and incapable of successful unselfish human interaction. That could be it, too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)