I carry a small notebook in my purse. It feels so matronly of me, maybe because my mother always did it. But I am now a "woman of a certain age," and I understand why she did it. I hate carrying a big purse around, but now I really need room for things like a notebook, because I can't remember a thing.
My notebook is a hodgepodge - Christmas shopping lists, websites a friend mentions, contact info for the person we are headed to visit, questions to ask at the next doctor's visit. But my favorite, and definitely most important, use for the notebook is to write down what the kids say. I forget things so quickly, and some of this I really prefer to capture.
Now, the trick is finding time to ever translate those treasures from the kids to this blog, my more permanent memory. So, the point of this entry is to catch up on a number of those. Therefore, I have included approximate dates, if I have them.
The Logic of Youth (December 28, 2009)
We were driving on a long car trip. James (age 8) says, out of the blue, "Mom when I grow up, I want my license plate to say "I-BE-APE."
"Oh. Um, okay." [Long pause, then I continue.] "Um, why?"
"Because that's what I want to be. And I couldn't fit, 'I want to be a gorilla.'"
John, Out of the Blue...(March 25,2010)
"Mom? When I grow up, I'm going to be a superhero. With a cape."
Maggie Works Out the Ways of the World (March 25, 2010)
"Mom, are boy captains and girl captains on ships called different names?" (I have no idea. Either as to the answer, or as to why you would ask the question.)
A short time later, Maggie chose to explain some things to me instead of query me. Maybe she decided I wasn't much good as a source of info after I blew the last one.
"Mom, I think I know what started World War I. The pilgrims were slaves and came here on the Mayflower and the people who were slaving them followed and started fighting." (Ahh, now that reassures me that all that school tuition has been well worth it.)
Life is Hard (September 2010)
"Mom?" It is John's voice from the back of the van, in a plaintive, even whiny tone.
"Yes?" I respond.
"I ... I ... I wish I could get more bigger."
"You will, soon," I reassure him soothingly.
He replies in a near panic, "But I can't wait that long!"
(Maybe this is related to being left behind when the older kids get out of the car for school. More likely, it is about his frequent questioning about how old he has to be to drive a car. Or a motorcycle.)
Negotiations (September, 2010)
Maggie and John love to play pretend together, now. We were driving in the car, and Maggie was proudly (vainly?) wearing a very fancy dress - red velvet with white fur trim. I overheard this exchange between them.
Maggie: John, let's pretend that I'm Mrs. Santa and you're little Santa, and Dad is ... Ho Ho Ho... Santa Claus.
John: NO! (Pointing at Jeremy and with a tone of "I've got a better idea") Let's say he's a bad guy. He's a storm trooper. But he's on our side. He won't hurt us, but he has a missile.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
First day of preschool
Speaking of underwear...
John had his first day of preschool today. He was actually nervous about it. I hadn't prepared myself for that possibility.
James and Margaret never gave preschool a second thought, since they had been going to daycare (which we always called "school" for them) since about 18 months, each. When other parents would talk about the "trauma" of the first day of school (preschool or kindergarten) I never really got it. Were they just over-dramatizing? No big deal at our house.
Well, I won't say it was a trauma for John, by any means. But it was a big deal. He asked questions all evening and through the bedtime routine. ("Mommy, will I go with no grown-ups? Why won't you be there? Will I get to play outside in the rocks? When will you pick me up?") He couldn't get to sleep last night. Even when I lay down with him (which usually puts him out within a few minutes), he tossed and turned next to me, muttering to himself about school. I was glad that I had given in yesterday at Meijer's with a small "school present-" a new package of underwear for the newly potty trained boy. (They were Star Wars Clone Wars, which he recognized himself though I am certain he can't yet read the words "Clone Wars" printed around the top band.)
Still, despite all his angst, he was happy to go this morning. He popped out of bed and dressed himself in the new underwear. (After that, who cares about clothing?) He asked Maggie to get him a bowl of cereal because he couldn't wait for Mom to get to the kitchen. When we arrived at preschool, he dashed into the gym with hardly a goodbye. As he had requested, I stayed to watch through the window for a few minutes, but he never once looked around for me. I watched the scene in pantomime through the glass, astonished that my Human Tornado was standing in his place in a circle, eyes riveted on the teachers, following every instruction for their "warm up exercises." Okay, once he did run off and swing on the Tarzan rope on his own. But mostly following instructions. Was this really my boy?
James, Maggie, and I took advantage of our morning alone to shoe shop. Amazingly, much easier without John along. 2.5 hours, 2 stores, 5 pairs of shoes (James-soccer; James-school, Maggie-gym, Maggie-school, Maggie-church) and 1 pair of socks (James-soccer), and less than $150. I felt like my world was once again manageable. In a certain way. (That 18-gallon tote of old shoes is finally starting to come in handy. Found soccer shoes for Maggie and tennis shoes for John for "free" from our hand-me-downs. At this rate it should only take one extra mortgage, not two, to keep all four kids clothed as they grow.)
We rushed back to pick up John at noon. Sadly, we discovered he was apparently the only one of the approximately 15 kids who had used his backpack (change of clothing). Ack. So much for the potty-training progress. At least we only came home with wet clothing, not dirty. Maybe they won't kick us out yet. :)
Back on Friday morning for more glee and giggles. I am encouraged that this will work.
John had his first day of preschool today. He was actually nervous about it. I hadn't prepared myself for that possibility.
James and Margaret never gave preschool a second thought, since they had been going to daycare (which we always called "school" for them) since about 18 months, each. When other parents would talk about the "trauma" of the first day of school (preschool or kindergarten) I never really got it. Were they just over-dramatizing? No big deal at our house.
Well, I won't say it was a trauma for John, by any means. But it was a big deal. He asked questions all evening and through the bedtime routine. ("Mommy, will I go with no grown-ups? Why won't you be there? Will I get to play outside in the rocks? When will you pick me up?") He couldn't get to sleep last night. Even when I lay down with him (which usually puts him out within a few minutes), he tossed and turned next to me, muttering to himself about school. I was glad that I had given in yesterday at Meijer's with a small "school present-" a new package of underwear for the newly potty trained boy. (They were Star Wars Clone Wars, which he recognized himself though I am certain he can't yet read the words "Clone Wars" printed around the top band.)
Still, despite all his angst, he was happy to go this morning. He popped out of bed and dressed himself in the new underwear. (After that, who cares about clothing?) He asked Maggie to get him a bowl of cereal because he couldn't wait for Mom to get to the kitchen. When we arrived at preschool, he dashed into the gym with hardly a goodbye. As he had requested, I stayed to watch through the window for a few minutes, but he never once looked around for me. I watched the scene in pantomime through the glass, astonished that my Human Tornado was standing in his place in a circle, eyes riveted on the teachers, following every instruction for their "warm up exercises." Okay, once he did run off and swing on the Tarzan rope on his own. But mostly following instructions. Was this really my boy?
James, Maggie, and I took advantage of our morning alone to shoe shop. Amazingly, much easier without John along. 2.5 hours, 2 stores, 5 pairs of shoes (James-soccer; James-school, Maggie-gym, Maggie-school, Maggie-church) and 1 pair of socks (James-soccer), and less than $150. I felt like my world was once again manageable. In a certain way. (That 18-gallon tote of old shoes is finally starting to come in handy. Found soccer shoes for Maggie and tennis shoes for John for "free" from our hand-me-downs. At this rate it should only take one extra mortgage, not two, to keep all four kids clothed as they grow.)
We rushed back to pick up John at noon. Sadly, we discovered he was apparently the only one of the approximately 15 kids who had used his backpack (change of clothing). Ack. So much for the potty-training progress. At least we only came home with wet clothing, not dirty. Maybe they won't kick us out yet. :)
Back on Friday morning for more glee and giggles. I am encouraged that this will work.
Proud parental moment?
I overheard today, coming from the back seat:
6-yr-old: "Hey, is that your shoe?"
3-yr-old: "Where?"
6-yr-old: "Under there."
3-yr-old: "Under where?"
6-yr-old: "I made you say 'underwear!'"
Two little voices utterly collapsed in giggles.
Now I confess, I am not usually one to get amused by potty humor, or any such sort of elementary-school nonsense. But the pure joy and delight these two shared over this joke (?) was completely infectious. I found myself laughing out loud as I waited at the stoplight. Ah, the warm fuzzy moments of parenting.
6-yr-old: "Hey, is that your shoe?"
3-yr-old: "Where?"
6-yr-old: "Under there."
3-yr-old: "Under where?"
6-yr-old: "I made you say 'underwear!'"
Two little voices utterly collapsed in giggles.
Now I confess, I am not usually one to get amused by potty humor, or any such sort of elementary-school nonsense. But the pure joy and delight these two shared over this joke (?) was completely infectious. I found myself laughing out loud as I waited at the stoplight. Ah, the warm fuzzy moments of parenting.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Pursuit of completion
The other day, James picked up the first Harry Potter book and began reading.
"James," I asked, "haven't you already finished that book?"
"Well, Uncle Jim read it to us, so I have heard the story, but I haven't read it myself. So now I am going to."
A day later he asked what the date was. When I told him, he did some quick mental calculating, and then said, "Well, then, I read all seven Harry Potter books in 24 days."
"You are done already? You just started that book."
"Well the first one is one of the shortest," he explained, matter-of-factly.
Check. Mission accomplished.
"James," I asked, "haven't you already finished that book?"
"Well, Uncle Jim read it to us, so I have heard the story, but I haven't read it myself. So now I am going to."
A day later he asked what the date was. When I told him, he did some quick mental calculating, and then said, "Well, then, I read all seven Harry Potter books in 24 days."
"You are done already? You just started that book."
"Well the first one is one of the shortest," he explained, matter-of-factly.
Check. Mission accomplished.
Things that make you say "Hmm..."
I overheard John (3 yrs) say today, "Daddy, if I were not a person, I would want to be an astronaut, like you."
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Margaret is reading
It is just so much fun, as a parent, to watch this light come on. It has seemed like she has been ready for ages. Even a year ago, as she started kindergarten, I thought she would be reading "any day." But she seemed reluctant. She loved to read the little memorized poems that she brought home from school, but otherwise, wanted to be read to.
Over the summer, I saw her grow bolder. If I read a simple picture book to her a few times, then she would proudly volunteer to read it back to me. After that, she started volunteering to read these books to John. The repetition seemed to build her confidence quickly. Still, she was not willing to venture into "new" material.
Then, this week, she turned 6, and everything changed. I woke up one morning this week and found her already awake. Instead of slipping down and checking out the TV, like she would usually do if first awake, she was lying on her bed amidst a pile of picture books. She proudly announced to me that she had been reading them all.
I was really surprised in church today. I always try to get the kids to follow along with the service in the printed bulletin, and to sing the songs with the printed words (either in the bulletin or the hymnal). Each week, I use my finger to trace along in the hymnal with the words, in the hopes that James or Maggie will decide to pay attention and try to read the words.
I have almost never gotten any response from James, so I was almost about to abandon this endeavor, deciding kids just weren't ready until they could do it all on their own. (Then again, James the "child of many thoughts" doesn't really sing along in school choir programs either. He knows the songs, as evidenced by practices at home, but at the concert he just gazes about the room, in his own world.)
Still, I often forget that each child is different. So I was stunned today when Maggie joined in - loudly. She entered into a hymn she didn't know, in the middle of a phrase, singing lustily if not remotely in relation with the melody. She was beaming and my heart was soaring. Keeping up with a song while reading unfamiliar words was truly a new reading milestone, and she and I both knew it. We were both aware that this opens up a whole new level of participation for her at church - and I am as excited about that as she is. Now, if she could just teach James to read the hymns. (wink)
P.S. James has become a bit of a reading maniac himself. His Uncle Jim read out loud to the kids while we were all on vacation - the first Harry Potter book. Since we returned 3 weeks ago, James has plowed through the next Potter books, almost non-stop. He is almost done with number 6. Thank goodness for fencing camp in the afternoons last week or he might have molded himself into the recliner by now.
Over the summer, I saw her grow bolder. If I read a simple picture book to her a few times, then she would proudly volunteer to read it back to me. After that, she started volunteering to read these books to John. The repetition seemed to build her confidence quickly. Still, she was not willing to venture into "new" material.
Then, this week, she turned 6, and everything changed. I woke up one morning this week and found her already awake. Instead of slipping down and checking out the TV, like she would usually do if first awake, she was lying on her bed amidst a pile of picture books. She proudly announced to me that she had been reading them all.
I was really surprised in church today. I always try to get the kids to follow along with the service in the printed bulletin, and to sing the songs with the printed words (either in the bulletin or the hymnal). Each week, I use my finger to trace along in the hymnal with the words, in the hopes that James or Maggie will decide to pay attention and try to read the words.
I have almost never gotten any response from James, so I was almost about to abandon this endeavor, deciding kids just weren't ready until they could do it all on their own. (Then again, James the "child of many thoughts" doesn't really sing along in school choir programs either. He knows the songs, as evidenced by practices at home, but at the concert he just gazes about the room, in his own world.)
Still, I often forget that each child is different. So I was stunned today when Maggie joined in - loudly. She entered into a hymn she didn't know, in the middle of a phrase, singing lustily if not remotely in relation with the melody. She was beaming and my heart was soaring. Keeping up with a song while reading unfamiliar words was truly a new reading milestone, and she and I both knew it. We were both aware that this opens up a whole new level of participation for her at church - and I am as excited about that as she is. Now, if she could just teach James to read the hymns. (wink)
P.S. James has become a bit of a reading maniac himself. His Uncle Jim read out loud to the kids while we were all on vacation - the first Harry Potter book. Since we returned 3 weeks ago, James has plowed through the next Potter books, almost non-stop. He is almost done with number 6. Thank goodness for fencing camp in the afternoons last week or he might have molded himself into the recliner by now.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Margaret is 6
Margaret's sixth birthday was quite an extended celebration. Several months ago, I learned that I would need to travel for work right around the time of her birthday. The first proposal had me getting home too late to see her on her actual day. I asked her about this, and she bravely said that she would understand if I had to be gone, and we could celebrate when I got back. Thank goodness I trusted Mommy instinct on this one rather than her words, and also that I have some understanding and accomodating co-workers. Through some finagling, I managed to arrange flights to arrive home Sunday evening, just before her Monday birthday.
Then, shortly before the trip, Jeremy decided to throw a "family" party on Sunday, when those from out-of-town could visit. The list quickly grew, to perhaps the biggest gathering we have ever hosted: his parents, grandparents, sister & 3 kids, my dad, brother, aunt/uncle, aunt, and grandmother. With Jeremy and our 3 kids, that made for a full house. Unfortunately, Maggie now felt that this was a key part of her birthday and so felt betrayed that I wouldn't be there. (Sometimes you can't win with the mommy guilt.) Fortunately, having 18 people in the house seemed to keep her distracted enough when the day finally arrived.
I made it to the tail end of Jeremy's bash (the younger guests were still here). Then on Monday, Margaret wanted to have friends over. I had invited her friends before I left. Another example of Mommy guilt, I think, because she had been begging all summer to have a sleepover party. I had been saying, "Probably not" all summer, telling her she was too young still. But then, as I prepared for my trip, and she was acting clingy about my departure, of course I relented. After all, I hadn't been much older when I had my first slumber party, had I? (I don't actually recall. Which is why I need to use this blog to document the age of Maggie's first slumber party, so that I can talk her into letting her daughter have one someday!)
I was surprised that of the 3 girls who could come to the party, 2 wanted to stay over (and 1 RSVP'd that they would take us up on the offer to go home at bedtime). I was even more surprised that when her dad showed up at 8:00, that girl begged to stay after all. I was even more surprised that the evening passed without major incident. One girl got teary during a sad part of the movie ("Babe, Pig in the City") but the other girls were very caring and helpful, and she soon recovered with a hug and change of movie (to "Cinderella"). Other than that, there were no tears, no bed-wetting, no generally unpleasant consequences. And the only vomit came from James, who overate pizza, cake, and ice cream, and was asleep long before the younger girls.
The next morning the girls were still cheerful and playing together great. In fact, they all begged to extend the day beyond the 11 AM party's end. Here, I did put my foot down, knowing that the inevitable meltdown was coming (it did, around 4 PM for Maggie), and knowing that I didn't want it multiplied by other little girls. All in all, a rousing success. I might even try it again sometime. :)
Then, shortly before the trip, Jeremy decided to throw a "family" party on Sunday, when those from out-of-town could visit. The list quickly grew, to perhaps the biggest gathering we have ever hosted: his parents, grandparents, sister & 3 kids, my dad, brother, aunt/uncle, aunt, and grandmother. With Jeremy and our 3 kids, that made for a full house. Unfortunately, Maggie now felt that this was a key part of her birthday and so felt betrayed that I wouldn't be there. (Sometimes you can't win with the mommy guilt.) Fortunately, having 18 people in the house seemed to keep her distracted enough when the day finally arrived.
I made it to the tail end of Jeremy's bash (the younger guests were still here). Then on Monday, Margaret wanted to have friends over. I had invited her friends before I left. Another example of Mommy guilt, I think, because she had been begging all summer to have a sleepover party. I had been saying, "Probably not" all summer, telling her she was too young still. But then, as I prepared for my trip, and she was acting clingy about my departure, of course I relented. After all, I hadn't been much older when I had my first slumber party, had I? (I don't actually recall. Which is why I need to use this blog to document the age of Maggie's first slumber party, so that I can talk her into letting her daughter have one someday!)
I was surprised that of the 3 girls who could come to the party, 2 wanted to stay over (and 1 RSVP'd that they would take us up on the offer to go home at bedtime). I was even more surprised that when her dad showed up at 8:00, that girl begged to stay after all. I was even more surprised that the evening passed without major incident. One girl got teary during a sad part of the movie ("Babe, Pig in the City") but the other girls were very caring and helpful, and she soon recovered with a hug and change of movie (to "Cinderella"). Other than that, there were no tears, no bed-wetting, no generally unpleasant consequences. And the only vomit came from James, who overate pizza, cake, and ice cream, and was asleep long before the younger girls.
The next morning the girls were still cheerful and playing together great. In fact, they all begged to extend the day beyond the 11 AM party's end. Here, I did put my foot down, knowing that the inevitable meltdown was coming (it did, around 4 PM for Maggie), and knowing that I didn't want it multiplied by other little girls. All in all, a rousing success. I might even try it again sometime. :)
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