I would not, could not, in the rain.
Not in the dark. Not on a train.
Not in a car. Not in a tree.
I do not like them, Sam, you see.
Not in a house. Not in a box.
Not with a mouse. Not with a fox.
I will not eat them here or there.
I do not like them anywhere!
This morning, as he woke up, Tau asked for Green Eggs and Ham. The book I mean; not eggs and ham for breakfast. As soon as I gave him the book, his face lit up like the sun.
“You want to read Green Eggs and Ham?”
Emphatic nod. “Read ‘am?”
“Come up. Out. Let’s go lie on Mom and Dad’s bed to read Ham.”
We have a pile of older-kid books like this that Tau seems fascinated by. What he loves about Ham is the rhythm of the prose, the repetition and the rhyme. Not in a house. Not in a box. Not with a mouse. Not with a fox.
That and he loves the fact that there are so many objects that he recognizes and can name out loud. Man. Tree. Car. Eggs. Fork. Wheels. Train. Fast!
I love that he loves books and I love that he likes Dr. Suess. I love starting the day on my back, head to head with my boy, reading in a grouchy Sam-I-am voice.
I keep meaning to tell you that we are done with dummies. Soothers. Pacifiers. Whatever you call them.
Until recently, Tau was still using one when he went to sleep at night. A comfort thing, more for the parents’ sake because we knew it allowed him fall asleep more easily.
And then a couple of months ago, we reached a stage where we realized that we could take it away, cold turkey, without him noticing too much. But if we waited much longer he’d reach the stage where having the dummy would become a battle of wills. That and we’d have to come up with an elaborate but toddler-credible reason to eventually get rid of the thing (clever Mel).
Already he was insisting that three blankies and various lions and books be with him in the bed before he went to sleep. And certain rituals were becoming entrenched: “More water?!” every time we went in to check if he was asleep, along with absolutely having to say goodnight to the moon through all three windows in Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom (thinly disguised way to get picked up and cuddled a bit more). Give it another couple of weeks and the dummy would likely have become an absolute must. Toddlers are fickle that way. (more…)
Yesterday we had our first rain in months. Many months. So many months that Tau didn’t know what it was.
We ran outside together and stood in the rain, then ran undercover and watched the big drops fall, then rain out into the rain for a few more seconds, Tau gasping as each drop hit his head.
Eventually I coaxed him inside. OK, picked him up bodily and carried him in kicking and screaming. He pulled a chair over to the window so that he could sit and watch the rain dripping off the outdoor umbrella, falling to the ground.
How do you explain rain to a two-year-old? Water, in the clouds, up high. Falling down, down, down on the ground. The best I could do.
We all have our own versions of this. But today I think Heather Armstrong put it so well. The full version is here at Dooce.com.
“We spend years and years of our lives discovering who we are, and it’s not a sudden realization, but one day you figure out who you are, that you are the type of person who likes to be in charge, or you are the type of person who likes to be given a list of tasks. Maybe you’re the type of person who can’t have fun unless you know that the other people around you are having fun, or maybe you’re the type of person who has fun no matter what. And if you’ve had enough therapy you’re okay with that, you’re okay knowing that this? This is who I am.
… It wasn’t until Leta was about two years old that I grew into my identity as a mother, that I finally stopped feeling guilty and embraced my version of that role. I knew that I loved my child, that I would do anything for her, but that I don’t necessarily do this thing like many other women. And that’s okay.”
Mighty Girl Maggie Mason served up an elegant sliver of etiquette on her blog today. She quoted fashion designer Valentino, who insists on dividing his attention at dinner parties equally, talking to the guest on his right for the duration of the first course and to the guest on his left for the second.
Comments on Mighty Girl’s post pointed out the obvious flaw in this approach; if all the guests at the table followed Valentino’s rule to a tee, they’d spend the whole night staring at the back of another person’s head. I knew there was a reason I didn’t wear designer clothes. Valentino pants are likely stitched so that one leg doubles back into the other.
But I digress. Maggie’s point was that we’ve lost the charm of the intimate dinner party, the kind where you lay out the good china and guests are hand picked to complement and keep each other fascinated all night long with witty anecdotes and scintillating repartee.
… why I have three watering cans on the front passenger seat of my car.
Because they had to come in the car with us to daycare. Again.
And, brilliantly devious mother that I am, I managed to whisk them out of his grasp with a cheery, “All done cans! Say, ‘Bye-bye watering cans — we’ll see you tonight’!” just as we pulled up in the daycare parking lot.
He fell for it, so I avoided tug-of-warring with a toddler in front of all the other parents arriving at daycare.
Not to mention having to walk into the classroom with three watering cans in tow, as we did yesterday with a large white kitchen ladle. He clearly won that round. You could see it on his face — strutting around the room, ladle in hand, clearly taunting the other kids, “Look what I got y’all … something you’ve never seen. See? It’s new and it’s MINE — from MY house!”
Clearly we are attached to arbitrary domestic objects at the moment.
Tau is so enjoying learning to kick and throw a soccer ball. Caught this clip the other evening while we were relaxing after dinner.
Don’t you love the kid-toy-destruction theme we selected when designing our living room? That and you get to see how filthy our carpets are after a summer of tracking through the dirt from outside.
A couple weeks back now we saw UB40 at Humphrey’s, a wonderful outdoor arena that is more poster for the good life in San Diego than hardcore concert venue. Surrounded by the waters around Shelter Island, Humphrey’s is open to the marina on one side and fringed with up-lit palms around the 1,400 seat arena. As the sun sets over the ocean, the lights come up on the opening band.
Dave and I arrived early enough to stand in line for an $8 beer and an $11 mojito. But hey, we go out so seldom, for all I know that could be the going rate at every night spot in town. Before heading to our seats, we hung around the perimeter, nursing our drinks and listening to the opening act, a very energetic reggae artist called Elan who reminded me a bit of Ché Guevara (here’s his MySpace link).
We’re big people watchers at events like this — fascinated by the cross-section of locals who consider themselves fans, digging each other in the ribs every time someone talk-about-later-worthy passes by: The surgically enhanced, forty-something Barbies wearing way too much jewelry, cleavage, and not quite enough clothing. The fifty-something surfer dudes with natural highlights and leather flip-flops, casually dressed in expensive Tommy Bahama shirts.
I digress only to set the stage. The mojito was mostly ice and since Dave was driving, I wound my way through the crowd, back to the bar to get another drink — Ché was still well into his Marley-esque treatise on World Peace. The line up was by this stage ten or twelve deep and I happened to join it at the same time as a guy who looked to be about my age. We smiled and did the classic “Go ahead … no you … no, please, you go ahead.” So we ended up standing together, chatting, and I found out that he was from the Dominican Republic, had lived in New York for many years, had seen UB40 before and was now at the concert with his aunt.
I posted recently about the shoes I won from Ryka, which should be arriving any day now.
For those of you in the US, Ryka has another great giveaway starting today. As part of their “Good For Your Sole” program, they will be giving away 50 pairs of shoes and 50 performance tees every day for the next 50 days.
Yay free stuff!
Oh, and for every pair they give away, they’ll be donating another to the Women’s Sports Foundation to distribute to organizations across the country providing health and wellness programs for women.
By 8:30 this morning it was already 85 degrees F (29 C). Dave had planned to be out cycling all morning and there was no way I was going to stay in the house, with our so-so AC unit, ’til he got home. So Tau and I headed out to do some clothes shopping with the benefit of commercial-grade air conditioning.
Once Tau’s tolerance for fitting rooms and being in shopping carts wore thin, we left the stores — “Mama, HOT!” as we walked out of Mervyn’s into the oven of the outdoors — and wandered into a nearby coffee shop for lunch. This coffee shop used to have a great train table for kids — but alas, no longer. They did however have a chess set, which kept him occupied for ages.
By the time we braved the outdoors again, the temp had risen to 105 F (40 C). Needless to say we rushed straight home and cranked the AC!
"We live in a culture that discourages empathy. A culture that too often tells us our principle goal in life is to be rich, thin, young, famous, safe, and entertained."
