Feed on
Posts
Comments

Role Reversal

Aug 5th, 2009 by

The only thing sweeter in a given day than reading Simon his night-time stories? Having him read them to me.

Simon rediscovered an old favorite, Old Hat, New Hat, about a week ago and just about wore me out with it. I get that toddlers love familiarity and repetition, but reading any book—even a cute one—four times per sitting can wear on one. But that’s what we did for several days straight: four times before a nap, four before bed-time. Simon would never settle for less, and I could never bear more.

Old Hat, New Hat sports precious little plot. It’s about a bear who goes shopping for a new hat, rejects every one he sees, and then happily settles on the old one at the end. The joy comes from the silly hats pictured and the clever rhythm and rhyme of the adjectives.

     “Too red, too dotty, too blue, too spotty…

The challenge for the reader lies in choosing an appropriate inflection for each word. Thus, “too heavy” comes out leaden and breathless from exertion, while “too light” comes out airy and breathless from absence of the same. Then there’s the long string towards the end:

     “Too beady, too bumpy, too leafy, too lumpy…too twisty, too twirly, too wrinkly, too curly….

Here I just speed through it and gallop along with the rhythm regardless of meaning.

Sunday night I learned why Simon insisted on what was, even for him, excessive repetition. We had retired to his room after putting on pajamas and brushing teeth. His shade was down, the overhead light was off, and I was just ready to hop into bed with him to read Old Hat New Hat four times when I realized that two of his wooden cars were still downstairs. He insists on playing with these cars every night, and usually falls asleep while clutching them. They are his security cars.

So I handed Simon the beloved book, hopped over his bedrail, and ran downstairs to fetch them. When I hit the stairs on the way up, I heard a small voice. Simon talks to himself all the time, but the rhythm was suspiciously familiar. What was that he was saying?

“… too fat [flat], too tall…”

No! Could it really be? I padded down the hall as quietly as possible and crouched outside his door.

“Too red, too dotty, too blue, too spotty….”

Yes! He was reading the book out loud to himself. When I finally walked into the room he looked up at me, beamed with pride, and kept going:

“Too beady, too bumpy, too leafy, too lumpy…

Some of those words he doesn’t really know. When in doubt, Simon just made something up that fit the pattern:

“Too twisty, too tooly, too winkie, too curly…”

Then he insisted I sit next to him. He scooted over as close as possible, held the book in the space between us, and proceeded to “read” the book to me FOUR TIMES. By the third and fourth, he was getting tired and losing more and more of the words but none of his enthusiasm.

After the fourth, I told him it was time for me to “go sleepy”, another reversal, a suggestion he smiled broadly in agreement with. When I went to kiss him goodnight, he was still smiling from the accomplishment, and I from a surge of maternal pride and affection.

Posted in Jessica, Simon says..., Toddler! | No Comments »

Peas! Peas! Peas!

Aug 2nd, 2009 by

We are one step closer to joining polite company. Simon has readily and quickly said “thank you” for a couple of months. He equally readily and kind of endearingly reels off the “excuse me”s, including those directed at inanimate objects he passes in the house: “Excuse me” he says to the chair as he squeezes behind it to fetch a car or ball. “Excuse me” he says to museum goers when he sidles by to get to the elevator. It’s all the same to him.

Pleases, though, have required regular prompting. “I want my rice crispie treat now!” he’ll announce/bark at me. “What do you say when you want something, Simon?” comes my tired response. Then he looks up at me with the most angelic expression he can muster, smiles, and says in a soft tone of voice, “peas?”

This was the drill, day in and day out, before eating meals and snacks, before taking walks and playing games, before watching episodes of Curious George or reading books. Demand. Question. “Peas?”

There seemed to be no real progress with that one until yesterday, when Simon skipped over a few steps and went straight to the desperate entreaty. I can’t even remember what he wanted now, but he wanted! wanted! wanted! and needed! needed! needed! it enough to speak in toddler triplicate.

“Mommy? I want a _____. Peas! Peas! Peas!”

Could the child jump, I’m sure he would have jumped three times to further illustrate his point. This was, no doubt about it, the kedusha* of requests. He also perfected the entreating smile, with his head tilted slightly down so that when he peered up at me the effect was particularly innocent and angelic.

Now today I’ve had to remind him once or twice, and he’s remembered on his own once or twice. The next hurdle will be the “I’m sorry” one, which toddler defiance and independence seems to make particularly difficult to clear.

*the Kedusha is a Hebrew prayer in which the congregation proclaims, “Holy, Holy, Holy, the Lord of Hosts, the whole world is filled with His Glory.” At each utterance of “Holy” (kadosh) in Hebrew, congregants raise up on their heels.

Posted in Jessica, Simon says..., Toddler! | 1 Comment »

Sleepover

Jul 30th, 2009 by

This morning, for the first time since his last morning in the NICU on October 19, 2006, Simon awoke somewhere with neither of his parents present.

Yesterday he spent the night at his Grandma and Pappaw’s house, and according to this morning’s report, all went well. He played; he watched a movie and ate popcorn; and he stayed up way past his bed-time.

That sounds about right for a sleepover!

Then he told his Grandma he was tired and needed to “go sleepy”, at which point he and Evie crashed together in the giant king-sized bed where Simon is accustomed to napping.

That, the asking to go to to bed part, sounds about right for my boy.

I can’t help but think of this as a pretty huge milestone. He’s never spent this much time apart from both of us. He’s never spent the night away from both of us. For that matter, it’ s been nearly a year since he’s spent the night anywhere other than his own crib or bed. I’m very happy to learn that he can handle an overnight, as, assuming Jim and Evie aren’t wiped out by it, it will give Matt and me some options down the road for going out or even taking short overnight trips that we have not done to date.

The optimal word in that last sentence? “date”.  Last night we worked full days, ate a home-cooked meal, went to the movies (“Bruno”, not exactly a rom-com), and then hit Highland Coffee Company for a treat. It was nice. It was like old times. But to be honest, I’ll be ready to have Simon tucked in the room next door to mine by tonight. Reliving old times is great in small doses, but my new life is much cozier and happier. The house just seemed too quiet for comfort last night.

Posted in Family, Jessica, Toddler! | 1 Comment »

Hoop Dreams

Jul 27th, 2009 by

I’m having a “mommy moment” over here. By which I mean the sensation that my child has just done something AMAZING that no child has ever done before.  Or at least not as well or as cutely. I’ve had similar feelings lately when I’ve watched Simon eat ice cream (Have you ever seen a kid look so cute eating a cone?), play in the car (Have you ever seen a kid look so cute pretending to drive?), or even sit on a bench (Is he not the cutest bench-sitter ever?)

I’ll call it parental exceptionalism and promise that, like its cousin American exceptionalism, I can describe it without endorsing it. I attribute this latest surge to the fact that last week Simon and I had a great week after a series of rougher ones, and also to the fact that he’s going through a mommy phase right now. But don’t take my word for it. Just last week Matt asked Simon—in public no less—which of us he preferred. I think he was joking, but Simon immediately and cheerfully answered in a way that will discourage this question’s being asked again any time soon.

On to tonight. Simon’s AMAZING feat is that he stood about six feet from his downstairs basketball goal (aligned with the X on the play mat; so I’m calling it the “charity cross” from now on) and landed about ten baskets. Now, he missed tenfold that number, but I am amazed he landed any. I’ve only ever seen him dunk before. Watch out Kyle Macy!

And the kid was stoked. He squealed in delight every time he sank a ball and was clearly and understandably proud of himself. We cheered him on, but I think all the pleasure came from within. He acted much the same a week or so ago when he played “punch-ball” (just imagine volleyball without a net or teammates) on the Whitworths’ driveway. Any time his fist made contact with the ball, Simon screamed with pride.

Nothin' but net, baby!

Nothin' but net, baby!

I, alas, am feeling less triumphant about the photos. I snapped on two settings: sport/action and child. Come to find out, “child” has the faster shutter speed, but Simon only scored when I was set to sport/action. So look closely here at the blurry picture. The shadowy blur heading into the hoop is the basketball. Sigh. We can’t all be exceptional in this household…

Posted in Jessica, Toddler! | No Comments »

Simon Just Called to Say “I Love You”

Jul 25th, 2009 by

Simon has been playing “telephone” for ages. He’s listened to “hello”s and unreciprocated attempts at conversation from my old boss, my mom, my in-laws, and a handful of friends. Without exception, until Wednesday this week, he’s smiled into the phone, looked up at me with an expression of wonderment, and then wandered off while disembodied child-engaging tones flowed from the receiver to the air.

Ironically, he’s fared much better with his toy phone. That he will pick up several times a day and use to call family, usually his Grandma or Bubbie. These conversations go something like this:

“Hewo? Simon! OK. Bye!”

Then he hangs up and dials the next person in his queue.

Wednesday this all changed; Simon called his Grandma and had a real (for him) conversation. It had been in the works for over a day, so I think he spent a fair bit of time working up to the big moment. The nexus of the call was a play-date with Grandma Monday night. Evie came over to spend time with Simon while Matt joined his dad and brother at the ball-park.

We had a terrific time, and Simon particularly enjoyed having Grandma read to him and help tuck him into bed at night. Then he awoke Monday morning and greeted me with “Where’s Grandma?” fully expecting to see the person who tucked him in the previous night.

There were some tears, and mentions of Grandma came throughout the day. I put the issue in the back of my mind until I picked Simon up from camp on Tuesday, only to be greeted by a quivering chin and glassy eyes. He thought his Grandma might pick him up from camp that day, and there was no hiding his disappointment when she failed to appear.

Then Wednesday arrived and after quite a bit of time spent happily playing, Simon looked up at me and plaintively asked “Where’s Grandma?” I tried to explain that she had gone home, that she’d see him tomorrow, and all that stuff, but then decided that when a small child misses his Grandmother, saying “tomorrow” is woefully inadequate.

So we got on the phone. The minute he heard her voice, his eyes brightened and a wide smile spread across his face. Evie asked about camp, and Simon told her that camp “was gweat!” Evie asked what we were doing, and Simon told her that we were finger-painting. Evie asked what colors we were using, and Simon told her about the red, green, and black paints he prefers. All real answers to real questions, offered without lengthy delay and spoken into the head-set. Then they exchanged their goodbyes and I love yous, and I saw neither glassy eye nor quivering chin again.

It was a moment that made me pause to consider how much learning goes into making a simple call and also to appreciate anew the power of telecommunications to help us feel connected.

Posted in Family, Jessica, Toddler! | No Comments »

Today’s Target Haul

Jul 22nd, 2009 by

The contents of one’s shopping bag truly are representative of one’s state of mind. I remember the day well that I came home from the grocery with candy, a copy of  “The Happiest Baby on the Block”, and a bottle of gripe water.

Today’s haul from Target just makes me laugh. I bought:

  1. Neo(sporin) to Go, because you never know when Simon is going to run a bit too fast and scrape his knee;
  2. Disney Cars briefs, because you never know what might inspire him to use a potty;
  3. Crayola Bath Dropz, because he’s way too cool for water-colored water;
  4. California Baby Shampoo and Body Wash, because he’s still an awfully young little guy and will always be my baby.

Posted in Jessica, Toddler! | No Comments »

Household Legislative Stalemates

Jul 20th, 2009 by

As Simon continues to develop his own sense of self, certain times of the day are getting more challenging. Towards the top of this list lies bath time, when we are regularly reminded that our agenda (get the child clean) and Simon’s agenda (have fun and make a mess) are not in perfect—or even imperfect—harmony.

The process is much like how I imagine Senate and House bill reconciliation committees must operate. Matt and I, as co-chairs of the Parental Committee on Hygiene, present our position that Simon stand so we can clean his tushie and legs, should keep toys and water inside the tub during a bath, and should allow us to pour water over his head to wash his hair. Simon, the Chair of the Toddler Health and Happiness Committee, protests that he is willing to get in the tub quite happily so long as he does not have to stand unless he wants to and is allowed to throw cups of water out of the tub at his will. As for hair washing, the Honorable Senator from Toddlerdom attests that he is perfectly happy to have his hair washed as soon as the Honorable Representatives from Parenthood figure out a way to do so that involves neither shampoo nor water.

As the negotiations rage, much coaxing on the part of the Parents and a fair bit of shrieking on the part of the Toddler can be heard outside the chamber. For a while it looked like a compromise had been found in the form of having Simon lie back in the tub for hair washing, but one day, without notice, that option was suddenly tossed from committee and the previous stalemate returned. We suspect he’s using it as a bargaining chip for splashing, because truth be told he used to look like he enjoyed it; he’d lie back with only his face exposed and take on a dreamy and lost expression as he took in the sensation of being mostly submerged. But the base must be appeased, so lying back is no longer on the negotiating table.

After some months of arguing and crying about standing, hair washing, and water-tossing (dare I call it Cup-of-Watergate?) we have arrived at a tenuous compromise just in time for the August recess. Standing up was solved by offering limited self-rule in the form of “tickle-bubbles”. I had been trying to coax Simon to wash himself for a while, and finally got him interested when I lathered up my hands, tickled his tummy and sides, and gave the game that ridiculous moniker. It stuck, and lately Simon has happily stood and washed himself and let me help reach the tricky bits. Success!

Hair washing and Cup-of-Watergate have both been solved with a small plastic watering can. One night Simon was devastated to learn that he had to stop watering the plants and go take his bath, and I mollified him with a promise of taking the can into the tub. I had him “water” my feet and legs, and then I “watered” him-head and all. He loved it! The gentle shower from the watering can allows us to wash his hair without tears and, as an added bonus, Simon would rather water my feet, his own hands, or the tub, than throw a tumbler out of the tub.

The moral to this story is, I think, that many parenting struggles, if not so many legislatives stand-stills, can be resolved with humor and creativity. And the underlying terror of this for me is that there are instances where I have neither. The Parent and Toddler committees on Household Welfare are still deadlocked on Toddler Bill 1404 (Walking Through Parking Lots Not Holding Hands Act) and Parent bill 6549 (Not Kicking During Diaper Changes Act) with no resolution in sight. We’re hoping all parties will return from the August recess with a better spirit of compromise!

Posted in Jessica, Toddler! | 1 Comment »

Howlers

Jul 17th, 2009 by

I’m feeling lazy and so will wrap this week with a list of some pretty funny quotes. All but the last are from Simon.

Upon playing the souk game just after a bath, in his birthday suit:

“I come into the souk with my penis”

A brief dialog about clouds:

Simon: “What’s that?”

Me: “Those are clouds. You can watch them move across the sky.”

Simon: “Clouds up in the sky. Clouds moving. Clouds go to the airport.”

Upon falling and bumping his head:

“I fell down and broke my crown.”

Upon being told that his green car is “kelly green.”

“Kelly green car. [picks up red car] Kelly red. [picks up yellow car] “Kelly yellow. [picks up black car] Kelly black…”

Dialog with my mother:

“You little monkey.”

“I’m not a monkey, I’m a boy!”

[two days later] “I’m a monkey-boy.”

And finally, a non-Simon quote. My step-mom, Ruth, just returned from a painting retreat where she’s working on a portrait of me. Ruth is about 5’6″, has a medium build, is of Scottish and German descent, and has a broad face wide set, green eyes, fair skin, and blond hair. Actual exchange from her retreat:

Fellow painter: “Who’s the subject?”

Ruth: [keeping it simple] “It’s my daughter, Jessica.”

Fellow painter: “Oh, of course, she looks just like you.”

And except for, uh, my eye color and shape, hair color and texture, facial structure, skin tone, height, and shape I am, indeed, a dead ringer for her.

Man people really want to see a resemblance between parents and children, especially those of the same sex. Having said that, Simon really does look a lot like Matt…

Posted in Family, Jessica, Simon says..., Toddler! | No Comments »

Bibliophile

Jul 14th, 2009 by

Simon spent the first two and a half years of his life reading board books. These fat little cardboard books were perfect for little hands guided by even littler impulse control. Many a night we tucked Simon into bed with a board book or two at his insistence.

In the last few weeks, we’ve begun a slow shift towards real books—hardback books with dust-jackets and wide pages. He loves these books and seems to understand that he must treat them gently, even if he can’t always summon up the physical control to do so. For the most part, he sits on my lap and has me read these books to him, even allowing me to turn the pages. It’s like he decided that a new bed deserved new books and a new routine to go with it.

The love affair began with Kitten’s First Full Moon. Our friends Beth and Bob sent this book along to us, I think for my baby shower. We liked it from day one, and it has circulated in and out of our short list of favorites for two years now. The day we got his big boy bed I took the book off the shelf to re-introduce it after an absence and Simon went wild. We read it four times. In a row. And then the next day before his nap we read it three more times. Also in a row. And then Matt got the idea to make the book about Tristan, and Simon went wild.

Loving the book as I do, I needed a break from it. So I grabbed another hardback book, this one a gift from my boss that I liked so much I also bought the board book version, Each Peach Pear Plum. Simon took one look at the gorgeous, British pastoral illustrations in full size and was more interested than I’ve ever seen him. He wanted to look for all the characters (it’s a sort of I Spy with nursery rhyme characters), and the first grocery trip after re-introducing the book he insisted that we buy plums. Eating to match a book? That’s my boy!

Sweetly, the third and final book added to our current short-list is The Kissing Hand, a gift from our friends Sharon and George. Simon received the book for his second birthday, a few months before he was really ready for it. Now, knowing that the book was a gift from his best friend Leah, he is interested and more than ready. The first time we read it, he pressed kisses into my hand–as I did into his–to mirror the book, and at the end he looked at the dust jacket flap, saw the author photo, and thought it was a picture of his Aunt Stacy. That sealed it. This book is now called “Aunt Stacy’s book” or “Leah’s book” and has a special place in his heart alongside the other two.

How special? Well, he insists that we tuck these into bed with him, too. But they are too big to just toss into the bed with him, so until we get a book rack to hang beside his bed, we’ve resorted to placing them under his pillow, as though awaiting a visit from the previously unknown book fairy.

Posted in Jessica, Toddler! | No Comments »

One Hundred

Jul 12th, 2009 by

My great-uncle Dave turned 100 Friday, and Saturday morning his synagogue threw him a large party to celebrate.

In the extremely off chance that anyone reading this was also there and saw me have to leave the sanctuary to compose myself not once, not twice, but three times, I would like to briefly offer the following reassurances:

  • I am not insane. At least, not dangerously so.
  • I am not pregnant. (Yes, I’m sure.)
  • I am not menopausal. (Yet)

What I am—or more accurately was—is unprepared for what the day would hold. Saturday was organized around a Shabbat service. Shabbat services have many parts, and my Uncle led the morning service. Various family members read or were honored during the Torah reading service. And there were yet more honors during the mid-day service.

Punctuated in between were vignettes from Uncle Dave’s life, which included the story of his sleeping above a fireplace to remain hidden in his Ukrainian home during a period of pogroms, of checking to see if the family’s visas came through when they lived in Bucharest, and of celebrating his Bar Mitzvah shortly after arriving in US on July 3rd, 1922.

The combination of sitting in the sanctuary where I grew up, of being among 200 or so people and realizing that I knew or was related to the vast majority of them, of hearing my uncle daven in his high, distinctive voice, and of seeing his face in that of so many cousins, brought a tsunami of emotion crashing over me. Specifically, I thought about my Bubbie (my Uncle Dave’s kid sister) a lot yesterday and felt her loss in a way I rarely have since she died. She’s the reason I had to leave the sanctuary three times to compose myself.

Which is crazy, because she died nearly seven years ago, just shy of turning 90, and she lived a full and happy life. I had her for 32 years. She was old, her body was failing her, and it was a blessing when she went. But she would have loved yesterday. She would have loved getting everyone together; she would have loved the service and the traditional cantorial program my friend Sharon put together; she would have loved seeing all the kids run around; she would have loved the food; and she would have loved gossiping about what everyone was wearing. (Bubbie, Sheryl’s dress was the best by a mile.)

And then, after the service and the Kiddush luncheon, my immediate family would have all gone back to her and my Zadie’s house on Woodbourne Avenue, sat in her kitchen, and waited a respectable three hours before digging into macaroni and cheese and tuna fish for dinner. She would have made a fuss over all the girls, and I’d be able to grab some M&Ms for a treat.

Which I’d eat at the table.

From a dish on a place mat.

And no, I’m not kidding about that.

That’s the kind of day I can remember, and it’s the kind of day I mourned. The other thing going on is that I was angry she never had a day like this in her honor. If my Uncle Dave is the oldest and most active in the synagogue of the brood and the eventual patriarch of the clan, then let the record show that my Bubbie was equally pious, was the matriarch of the clan, and hosted countless family get-togethers. It’s not that I begrudge Uncle Dave his party; I was delighted to be included. It’s that it seems unjust that my Bubbie didn’t live long enough to have the whole congregation turn out for a party in her honor and make a giant fuss over her.

What’s more, every time the rabbi or a family member mentioned my uncle’s dedication to scholarship, I’d think about how deeply religious my Bubbie was and how unfair it is that no one ever hired a private tutor for her (as they did my uncle) to nurture her abilities. Her genes and her gender cheated her out of that kind of recognition.

My head was still churning with this toxic mix of grief, nostalgia, and righteous indignation when I heard a story about Simon that broke the spell and made me howl with laughter. This would be funnier if I could name names, but I really shouldn’t. Let’s just say that a certain person of my acquaintance was talking to another person of my acquaintance at the party. Person A likes Person B very much, but the feelings are not reciprocated in full and Person A’s affect can be awkward and discomfiting. Simon was talking to Person B, and enjoying the attention, when Person A came over to strike up a conversation.

“What’s your name?” Person A asked Simon after a spell.

“Simon Wolfson Riff-ruff” came the response.

Person A, now finished talking to Simon, attempts to resume the conversation with Person B. Simon, meanwhile, is having none of this interruption. So he looks at Person B and declares loudly and clearly:

“I can’t like this people.”

How awesomely rude…. and just plain awesome.

Posted in Family, Jessica, Toddler! | 1 Comment »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »