Last Child in the Woods

When you were a kid, did you have that special place you would go, somewhere in nature, back when kids were allowed to roam free without telling their parents EXACTLY where they were going? A place where you felt you belonged, a place you claimed as your own? A place in the woods? The edge of a creek? A great climbing-tree? A large bush, even, with a hole you could crawl into and hide?

Do you remember how empowered and peaceful you felt hanging out all by yourself or with your friends in nature?

I've been thinking a lot about this lately...

Has it ever occurred to you that we have taken this amazing experience away from our children in just a couple generations? With all the fear of kidnapping and molestation at every turn, we are prohibiting our kids from walking home from school, having free range of the neighborhood or even leaving the front yard, much less giving them the freedom to explore the few wild places left near our homes.

Kids nowadays, I assume because of the media-instilled fear of predators, are no longer allowed to wander through their neighborhoods.

When I was 8, I had free range of a two block radius, including every backyard, and we could also go anytime we wanted to a quarry, a creek and a train track down the road from my house.

The quarry had once been a swimming hole where you could still see a frayed rope dangling from a bar placed there so kids could swing out over the water, let go, and drop in with a splash. In my time, we were told the water was not clean, but it provided lots of stone-skipping fun, and one could walk around it on a path through some trees.

Most kids in my neighborhood used to have to come home when the streetlights came on. One girl's family had a large farm bell on a tall post in their backyard that they would ring if it was time for her to come home, and it could be heard for blocks. Her parents trusted her not to leave the area in which she could hear that bell.

We played alone, in pairs and in packs. In the summer, we played outside from morning until dinner time, and then we often went out again after dinner. We would play "Ghost in the Graveyard" for hours, hopping neighbor's fences and hiding under bushes. We stole the sugar bowls out of our kitchens into which we dipped stalks of wild rhubarb to make them sweeter.

I suspect now, in my old neighborhood, most kids are allowed to play only in their yard (the backyard, of course, as the front has CARS driving by!) unless they get permission to go to another kid's yard, with that other kid's mom's permission, passing the protection of said child from one responsible adult to another. If they want to go down to the end of the road, I am guessing they go with a parent and are not allowed to place pennies on the railroad track, much less throw rocks into passing train cars or cross the tracks and wade in the stream, jumping from rock to rock catching crayfish.

The field there is now a tennis court, and a city-built skate park. The quarry has been filled in and the ring of wild trees around it has been cut down. It's a flat mowed lawn now.

Last week, I had the opportunity to see a lecture given by Richard Louv, the author of the book I am currently reading called, Last Child in the Woods. Louv argues that children are spending less and less time on unstructured play in nature, at a time when it is critical to do so, and their lives and the future of our planet are being severely impacted. When children are outside, it is usually in scheduled, structured team activities, or on playgrounds with soft turf, short slides, and rubber around the chains on the swings.

Children are more obese, less creative, less active, less pro-active, more fearful, less knowledgeable about the natural world than their counterparts were just a couple generations ago: kids who played in their local ravines, caught tadpoles in the stream, and played in their forts in the nearby copse of trees at the end of their streets.

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Consider this:
· In 1971, 80% of 7 to 8 year-olds were allowed to walk to school on their own, whereas just 9% could do so in 1990.

· In 1990, only half as many 7 to 11 year olds as in 1971 were allowed to go to places other than school by themselves. What do you suppose it is now, in 2009?

· The age at which children are granted specific freedoms increased—the freedom permitted to a 7 year old in 1971 was permitted to the average 9.5 year old in 1990. It's been two more decades since then.

. Between 1981 and 1997, children’s free playtime dropped by an estimated 25%, and this change appears to be driven by increases in the amount of time children spend in structured activities. Their unstructured play time is mostly spent indoors with some sort of electronic media.

. Students in outdoor science programs improved their science testing scores by 27 percent (American Institutes for Research, 2005)

. Researchers at the University of Illinois have shown that the greener a child’s everyday environment, the more manageable their symptoms of attention-deficit disorder.
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Richard Louv made a comment that really struck me during his talk. He said that most every environmentalist and conservationist working for change today had a transcendent experience in nature as a child. In a time, when we really need to change the way we live in order to make a healthier environment, we are prohibiting our children from having any kind of transcendent experience in nature.

If kids don't spend time in nature, they won't have the desire to take care of the environment, except in the abstract sense, and we don't have time for the abstract anymore.

While Louv feels that getting kids back outside at all is great progress, what he is really advocating is getting kids back to wild nature. Not soccer fields, not playgrounds, not landscaped parks, but woods, ravines, rivers, rocks, trails, lakes and beaches.

And he wouldn't mind if some of that time was alone time for the kids who can handle the responsibility.

Louv wants to get a grassroots movement going in America, much like playgroups and book clubs have taken off in the last few years. But he would like this movement to get families out into nature in groups, to make it more fun, more social, and more common. He calls them Family Nature Clubs. He wants groups of friends and neighbors to scoop up the kids, and meet somewhere out in nature on a regular basis, explore and just have fun together.

A light bulb went on for me when I heard this. My family does go out and walk one of San Diego's canyons on occasion, and we hike occasionally when my parents visit. But I had this thought a few months back to get a friend or two and their families out to the woods, at a day use area for a long afternoon of just hanging out, talking and letting the kids play in a natural environment. Climb on some rocks, wade in a creek. Get dirty. Richard Louv got me thinking, "why can't this be a regular thing?" And why just one or two other families?

So, if you are a friend of mine and live locally, don't be surprised if one day in the near future I invite you and your kids out for a day of rest and play at the day use area of Cuyamaca Rancho State Park or one of the other Day Use Parks in our area.

I am picturing everyone bringing sandwiches or campfire/barbecue foods for their own kids, a dish to share with everyone else, some camp chairs for the parents to hang out together. We would come out sometime after breakfast, and get home around dinner time. Lunch will be had in the out of doors. The kids can play, explore and climb, some folks can take a short hike, the adults can get some much needed social time with each other, and a good time will be had by all.

And if we like it... maybe we could do it every few weeks or so.

What do you say? Are you game?

Are there cool natural spaces you can take your kids near home? Like the idea of hanging with your friends and their kids once a month? Want to commit to vacationing someplace where you plop down in nature someplace and stay awhile instead of visiting amusement parks and cities?

Thoughts? Ideas?

Someone's Been Sitting in MY Chair!

It's vacation time again! And I don't even have to travel!

My parents have arrived for their bi-yearly visit, and have settled in nicely. I get to act like a tourist in my own town. It's nice to have a good kick-in-the-butt to get out and about with and without the kids.

We've done a little hiking in the canyons, done a little browsing through the art galleries...

Getting online to TELL you about it is going to be another story all together. The twins have discovered the computer, and are turning out to be as geeked out as the rest of their family. The light bulb went on about what the mouse does and how to use it. So much so, in fact, that we needed to bring Noah's bedroom computer downstairs so that the kids can play their games (educational of course) off of our computer!

That doesn't stop one of them from sliding into the seat when we step away for awhile. We will often find them installing obscure programs they got online by clicking on advertisements (no! I am not kidding!). We finally had to put a password on our screen saver to stop them from randomly clicking on things!

Aside from having to wait in line for our turn to use our computer (what?) the office is also our guestroom, so the ol' blog, which usually gets updated post-bedtime, is now in a sleeping room post-bedtime.

So, sigh... you are more likely to find out what me and my folks are up to by checking my Mom's far more popular than my blog. She seems to find a way to squeeze some blogging in between kid's computer games, and gets her blog updated, even if she has to sit on a squat little kiddie chair to do it.

Nurturing Dorkiness

I have been thinking lately about kids and clothes, and popularity...

I was one of those somewhat dorky kids in high school. Not pretty, not the right clothes, tried out for plays and ended up building sets. Chose being last place on the swim team over running for student council. Hung with other dorks, played Dungeons and Dragons with my brother's friends...

Yeah... you getting it now?

But I think I turned out okay. And so did my other geeky friends.

When I got to college I flourished and noticed a lot kids who were "popular" in high school kind of found themselves adrift in college without their cliques to define them. Not all of them, but a lot of them. These were often the kids who ended up on drinking binges all through college, who often lived their adult lives glorifying the good old days in high school.

I used to curse the fact that I dressed so dorky. If only I had gotten the right perm (!!!), had enough money to get the right clothes (or could FIND clothes like the cool girls wore!) that all would have been right with the world in high school.

But I turned out okay.

Now that I have kids of my own, I feel like I have this need to dress them all cool, and because boys' clothes are BORING, I tend to steer toward funky clothes, shirts with little skullies on them. I get drawn to dressing my five year old like a skate punk.

But then I started looking around at the skate punks in my neighborhood. They gather in the park to smoke cigarettes, clearly skipping school just to sit around looking bored. And we have actually SEEN them do drug deals in the McDonald's parking lot, and I wonder if dressing my kid all "cool" will LEAD him to hang with a group of kids that will steer him down a path I don't want him to take. You know... maybe if his fashion allows him to fit in really well with a bunch of kids who swing to far to the left or to the right, he might end up in trouble of one kind or another.

So, let's see... I don't want him to be TOO preppy or TOO punky, too popular or unpopular... maybe more... middle of the road!?

More... Target? More JC Penneys?

I mentioned it to my husband and while I was contemplating that maybe my parents dressed me just dorky enough... had allowed me enough shopping money each fall to just barely fit in, but not TOO far in (or too far out), Michael began to see where I was going with this.

He suggested maybe it would be a good thing to develop Noah's current interest in Star Wars.

Maybe move them all slowly into Star TREK when they get a little older. Dust off the 20-sided dice and the Monster Manual and see whether they are more drawn to Paladins or Magic Users. Buy them the full set of Lord of the Rings books.

Show them the wonder of the pocket protector!!

Yeah... I'm okay with my kids being dorks. All the coolest people used to be dorks.

When Your Glass is Less Than Half Full or More Than Half Empty

Oh man, I am tired.

I mean my whole psyche is tired.

I don't want this to become a post that moans and groans about how much trouble a kid can be, and "why does he have to act like this" and "why does he have to make things so hard?" but, MAN, parenting can be difficult sometimes, you know?

The twins are toddlers, and yes they bite, and yes they push each other off the slide, and yes they hit and take toys away from each other, but I am fine with the redirection and the constant correcting and explaining of what is expected of them. They are toddlers.

But I have less patience with Noah because it seems I stick with the proper methods, I don't get lazy with the time-outs, I give him more attention when he starts to act out (in fact he gets a lot more attention than the twins seem to get from me) but his behavior issues just keep on keeping on!

He goes from Pleasantville to Ugly-Monster-Boy-Spitting-Venom at the drop of a hat (or at the suggestion that he come to the table, or because I put my face in front of his face when he seems oblivious to me asking him a question). If you give him a warning to stop being rude, he will often lash out in some way: kick you or hit you with a toy his is holding (although he usually pulls his punches).

And I am tired.

I am weary and I am weakened and I wonder sometimes how much of a child's behavior really DOES come from lazy or misguided parenting and how much is just personality. Did I make him this way? Can I change him? Can I teach him to change?

How do you know if a child's behavior is born in him, or caused by your parenting?

Can you teach a child to WANT to be generous instead of selfish? If a child is rude and acts deserving, can you teach him humbleness and humility?

How do you know what is a phase you can work your way through, and what is just something you will have to live with for the rest of your relationship with your child?

Answers? Anyone?

A Mother Blessing

On Sunday I threw a Mother Blessing for my friend Kim who is due to give birth in July. We held it at the home of my friend Elaine, which was awesome because I don't think I would have had time to do the preperations AND clean my house.

(I brought my camera that night, but the only time I used it was before the guests arrived while Elaine finished decorating the cake with her daughter.)

A Mother Blessing is kind of like a baby shower, except instead of being focused on the baby, playing stupid games, and consumerism, it's about surrounding the new mother with a show of female support and strength, and really recognizing the birth for the transforming experience that it is.

Our culture has become so insane, so fast paced, that we forget to take the time to celebrate and honor the major transitions in life the transformations in our selves. Sure, there are graduation celebrations, bar-mitzvahs and weddings, but often these ceremonies have become either consumer driven, or are crazy alcohol-driven parties.

Not that I have anything against crazy alcohol-driven parties! Sure, those can be a blast!

But we have dropped most of the sincere acknowledgement of the importance of these turning points from our celebrations. And when we do take the time to recognize them, we deepen our sense of self and discover an understanding of what makes life really meaningful.

So, we gathered a group of awesome mothers into a circle, and since Kim works in one of the finest theaters in the country, the circle was filled with a who's-who of San Diego's most awesome theater-moms. It was an honor to be among them once I saw how together they seemed, balancing motherhood and the business of theater, seeming so ambitious and yet how "at ease" they all were.

Kim looked radiant in her wide smile and Earth-Mama-ness.

We all brought or picked from a collection, a bead which we held in our hands as, one by one, we went around the circle. We honored our own mothers and grandmothers, we blessed Kim, and dreamed our dreams for her, and wished for her all good things. Then, we dropped our bead in the bowl and passed it on.

I turned the beads into a necklace for her to wear or have near her during her birth, to remember that we are there with her, that we are supporting her with love and strength.

Kim then gave us an even better gift. She went around the circle telling each one of us the story of how she met us, what she saw in us, the things she admired in each one of us, and why she cherished us in her life. It was awesome and so sweet, and a few tears were shed.

I had had a few other activities planned, but it was clear before too long that what we all really wanted to do was stay in our circle and continue the talk, allowing Kim to ask advice and share her fears, giving her what wisdom we had to share, learning from each other.

It was a lovely evening, and I realized I how much I missed having a circle of women friends in my life like I have had in other communities, at other times in my life. It was so comfortable, so warm, so full of laughter and openess.

Kim wasn't the only Mama who drove home that night feeling lifted up and blessed.

Five and a HALF

My oldest is five and a HALF today!

He is very excited about being able to call himself that now. It’s funny: in the morning he usually likes to finish his breakfast quickly so he can play 10 or 15 minutes of computer games before school. But THIS morning, after he quickly ate, he asked if we could hang out in the living room so he could get some “Mommy Love”, instead. You know I wasn't gonna pass THAT up!

I told him I would LOVE that, and that as soon as I finished making my coffee I would be right in. He said, “Okay! I will be waiting on the LOVE seat!”

Michael and I both got a giggle out of that.

I came in with my mug to find him setting up the love seat with three pillows and a blanket so we could get comfy. And comfy we got. I told him that I was surprised he was giving up his computer time to be with me, and he said that it was a special day (being five and a HALF and all) and he wanted to spend this time with his mom. Awwwww…

I told him that birthdays (even HALF birthdays) are just as special for moms as they are for the kids because it reminds us of how happy we were when our child came into the world.

When it was almost time to get to school, I asked if it was okay for me to get up and get his shoes for him. He said, “Sure!” and so I went to get them. When I got back, I saw that he had run to my room while I was gone and brought back "Bunny", the stuffed animal I loved in my childhood and still keep.

“You can keep this near you today, so when you miss me, you can look at it and think of me.”

We got his gray hoodie jacket on with the hood up to protect against the rain we are having this morning. He asked me to take his picture. I thought it was to commemorate his being five and a HALF but after I took it, he instructed me to print it out, cut out the face, and paste it on my Bunny’s face, so I can remember him more easily.

As if I could ever forget that face.

Troubling Talk

This is a pretty long one, but I have a lot on my mind...

Don't get me wrong, Noah is a pretty happy kid for the most part. But we have been dealing with some troubling behavior recently, and it looks like it's time to look for some outside help.

Noah is smart. And he has mostly shown himself to be more logical than emotional. But we have seen a flood of emotion lately and have had trouble knowing how to help him through it. We have said for a year now that we have been having "anger issues" with him, but it's never been crazy-bad. Now, though, he is saying some phrases that have been quite scary for us as parents to hear.

Sometimes he gets in a funk and is just weepy and says these phrases. Other times he is angry or frustrated. When he is extremely frustrated (having trouble with a video game, or not wanting to come to the table for dinner) he will sometimes yell that he wishes he weren't in this family anymore. Sometimes he says that we hate him and most troubling, he wishes her wasn't "in this life" anymore or that he wishes he was dead. Yes, and he is five years old.

So now, it is time to talk to professionals.

This afternoon, the guidance counselor from his school came over to talk with me about him (at my request) and has suggested he first see his pediatrician for a checkup and then see a psychologist for an evaluation. So we will likely do that.


They also plan to do an evaluation at school to determine whether he should be checked for ADHD.

See, at school, they are having other problems with him. There, its all about hyperactivity, making noises, being distracting to other students, and forgetting that one minute ago, he had agreed to settle down and be quiet.

At home, we don't really notice any PROBLEMS in this area, and at school, he rarely exhibits his low self-esteem issues that we see at home.

At first, I wasn't sure how to parent this depressive behavior. We couldn't always tell if he was trying to show that he was in emotional distress, attempting to manipulate or punish us, or what. We tried ignoring the talk and just go about as normal ("Well I am sorry you want to be dead, but you still have to take your bath.") we tried punishing it ("We don't talk like that. Time Out!"). We tried explaining how that would hurt us ("Oh Honey, that would make me so very sad if you were dead... I would never be happy again!") and even tried making a joke about it and be silly trying to get him to snap out of it and laugh. Nothing really showed any sign of easing his frustration.

More and more lately, though, I have been able to see when he is just flinging insults around and when he is really crying for help.

I hesitate to write about this because the first conclusion *I* would jump to, reading this about some other family, would be "what kind of parents are they?", "are they doing things to cause him to want to be dead?", "are they emotionally abusive?". I can only tell you that we are not. We have our share of exasperation, tiring days and short fuses, but on the whole we are pretty decent parents. And, no, its not about his little brothers, because if anything, he is getting along with them better and better. There are few real stresses that are new in his life. No divorces, no deaths, no sicknesses, etc. It just... started!

A few nights ago, we had a breakthrough of sorts.

At bedtime, as I laid with him for awhile before he fell asleep, he seemed mostly fine. He was asking about if there was a jail for kids and I told him that there was a place called juvenile detention and explained that there were no bars or cells like in a regular grown up jail, but that it was like a school with a big fence around it, that it had bedrooms, and the kids who were being punished just went to class, went to eat, went back to their room, and how they couldn't play, couldn't leave, couldn't visit friends, couldn't see their family.

Then, for no apparent reason, he got weepy and fell into his funk again. He told me that he thought that juvenile detention sounded like a good place for him, for someone who doesn't want to be in his family anymore.

That was it. I looked in his eyes and saw the hurt and pain and saw this completely lost little boy. He was adrift and grasping for an anchor. My heart was breaking. I realized he needed me to prove my love.

I grabbed his face and forced him to look me in the eyes and as he welled up in tears, I told him again and again how much I would hurt if he left our family, how I will never stop loving him, how he could be mean and cruel to me, he could hit me, he could steal, he could get bad grades, he could break the windows, but I would STILL LOVE HIM. And NOTHING he did could stop that, NOTHING he did would make me stop loving him, and if he were to leave our family I would NEVER stop searching for him, I would FIND him and I would bring him back home to where he belonged, to his family who loved him and would NEVER stop.

I let his face go.

He turned away from me, and said, "I don't want cuddles anymore. I want you to go away."

I thought I had failed and I began to cry, not knowing how to help my son. But then a moment later, he flipped back toward me, threw his hands around my neck and begged me to stay with him all night. I told him I would stay there, holding him, until he fell asleep.

And I did.

I came downstairs, completely spent, and told Michael the new plan for dealing with this behavior is to treat each occurrence as a signal to prove our love and devotion to him. And we have. We get down in his face and contradict every challenge of our love for him. And so far, its been going very well. He sometimes even gets this little smile of relief on his lips.

Granted its been about 5 days, but still.

Many times, he is clearly depressed and sad, and his troubling phrases sound like what he is really feeling. Other times, they are completely out of context. So, the next morning, Michael had a talk with him about saying what you are ACTUALLY angry about, and not saying "I wish I wasn't in this family".

I reinforced that... That afternoon he was playing a video game and was having trouble with it and screamed from the office "GET OUT OF MY FAMILY!!!" I assumed, to me.

I came in and explained that this is what Daddy was talking about. I am his Mom, and my job is to help him with his frustrations. If he is having trouble finishing a video game level and yells "get out of my family!" then I might just leave (I let him know I was joking!) but if he screamed, "I can't finish this level and I am soooo frustrated!!!!" then I can come help him with the game, and make it all better. He got it, and as I continue to give him real-time examples of things to say instead of the troubling phrases he HAS been saying, he has been getting better at saying what he really means. He gets it.

But its only been a few days, and we often have quite a few good days in a row. Don't get me wrong, he is usually a pretty happy-go-lucky kid! I am seeing, though, that this may be an upward battle. Something we deal with throughout his adolescence. We are all learning how to manage. But we are learning.

Baby steps.

Maybe I Should Have Actually Found Some Wood to Knock on, Instead of This Formica Desk

I just had to say it, didn’t I?

We’ve got the gas leak fixed, the fridge was repaired free by the guy who sold it to us, even though it was past the 30 days guarantee, the new washer and dryer are working like a dream, Internet is running, cable in every needed room…

But I had to title that post “At Least We Still Have Our Health”, didn’t I? I even saw Karma, herself, in my mind’s eye, trying to hide a wry little smile, and I thought of changing the title so as not to tempt her, or her sister, Fate. But it was a good, title, no?

You know where this is going, don’t you?

Last night, Noah coughed a couple times and then started crying for “MAMA!!!”. He had vomited while lying on his back and it was down both sides of his face, into his hair, his pillow, etc. Then, he sat up, and did it some more on his blankets.

Sorry for the graphic nature, but as a Mama, you get used to talking about bodily fluids.

We cleaned him up, changed the sheets, changed his clothes, and tucked him back into bed. A half hour later, he did it again. And again… six times in total. And between those fun episodes, he just called to whimper about not being able to sleep, or his blanket is wrong, or his hair smells bad.

Between 11pm, when it started, and 6am, when he wanted to get up and watch TV on the couch, he called us at LEAST once every 45 minutes. So, all three of us pulled all-nighters. Michael went off to work this morning leaving me with the three kids, but was home soon after because now he has come down with “it” as well.

Even though Noah tends to nap nearer to 3pm, its now just past noon, and all four of my family members are in bed, asleep. I supposed I should get some unpacking done, but my current “unpack and purge” project is all over my bedroom floor in not-so-neat piles, but Michael is sleeping in there.

Maybe I should take this time to just watch a movie. I should, because I think its only going to get harder from here, and I should probably take any break I can get my hands on.

I was going to say something about how I, at least, am lucky to not… something or other… but I can feel Madam Karma peeking out from behind the office door.

So, ‘nuff said.

Quarantine

Wow.

This has been a trying week.

On Sunday (a week ago) Noah became sick with this cough like a barking seal and a forehead you could fry an egg on. He stayed home from school Monday, and again on Tuesday. We sent him to school doped up on medication on Wednesday because by then I had it too, and couldn’t cope with all three kids at once, because all I wanted to do was lie in bed and moan.

By Thursday, it hit Ethan like a ton of bricks and he has been moaning for four days straight. And I am not kidding.



See? He's been like that for four days now. Nearly non-stop.

He has been laying spread-eagled across my chest inhaling, and then moaning with every exhale, pausing only hack up a lung or to whimper, as if to ask, “When is this going to end, Mama?” And all I want to do is lay sprawling across someone else’s chest and do some weeping of my own.

This weekend, we went up to the San Fernando Valley to see Michael’s mother to celebrate her birthday. I am praying we didn’t leave her with the gift that keeps on giving. Noah is feeling better, but a week into this, he is still coughing and congested. I assume he will be his old self first, and he is still not there yet.

The rest of us may have a long haul still ahead of us.

Not The Best of Days

I ended the night with pants covered in blood and vomit.

NOT the way you want to start out a blog post.

All is well, though, relatively speaking. We survived.

After a long weekend where Michael worked and kids were, shall we say “trying”; we went into Sunday night with Noah running a fever. By bedtime he was pretty hot and at 1am, he woke coughing enough that he threw up all over his bedding.

I held him on the floor, he whimpered a lot and Daddy changed the sheets. I had had the idea to put a bowl on his side table for just that very reason, so it was not as bad as it could have been. But then, between the coughing and the thinking too much, I ended up with insomnia for most of the rest of the night.

And of course this morning Noah woke with a fever and a fowl mood, flinging insults every which way. After we took his temperature and announced that he would be staying home today, his mood perked right up and he got downright chipper.

Most of the day was fine with Noah continuing his mood swings and the twins being alternately needy, which was a good thing. One became clingy just as the other wanted to get down and investigate something across the room.

A big bag of popcorn went a long way to keep the troops happy.

Michael called and said that he had had a couple emergencies at work and would be doing paperwork later than usual, so I would be getting dinner together by myself. I had just moved the dining room chairs from the dining room into the living room, one 1970’s sunken living-room-step down, and swept the floor under the table. The twins saw their booster chairs (tied to chairs) in a new and fun (??) place and both ran and climbed up into them. Ethan buckled his own seatbelt and I headed into the kitchen to put the broom away.

And Luka screamed.

He is always, ALWAYS falling off of furniture, and smacking his head on the hard tile floor. I ran to soothe him, scooped him up from between the back of the chair and the step up to the dining room. He must have fallen over the back of the chair! I shushed him and shushed him and then noticed the dark spot on the floor. I touched it with a finger and found it to be a dark, very fat drop of blood!

I started looking in Luka’s mouth, his ears, his neck, under all that hair, nothing! I looked back down on the floor and now there were something like SEVEN fat drops of blood. I tilted his head around and saw nothing until I found blood on my thumb. When I pulled my hand from the back of his head it was just covered in blood. I had not even felt it. While looking through his hair, I found nothing, until I saw my other hand was covered as well. I began to panic and scooped him up and ran to the kitchen for better light.

And there on the very top of his head was a pool of blood running through his hair and like a river down the back of his head, matting the hair in wet dark stickiness. I freaked and grabbed the cell phone, called Michael, and through Luka’s screaming, told Michael to come home now!

The blood quickly coagulated as fast as it had come, but a full quarter of Luka’s hair was matted in blood. He continued to wail. I called Michael and told him it was settling down a bit, and apologized for the panic. He was on his way, and Luka was pointing from room to room as I was trying to find something to calm him. He finally pointed outside, and I took him out into the back yard where he wanted to get down, and it was there that I saw the gash clearly for the first time, an inch and a half long and about 3mm wide. Horrible. Like meat.

Michael pulled in and looked him over. Decided to take him for yet another visit to the emergency room. We put him in the car with Lambie (his lovey) and off they sped.

I went back in the house, dazed, explaining to Noah, who had woken (still sick) from his nap from all the screaming, what had happened to Luka. I began to clean up the blood: from the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, the rug, the window, the cell phone, my hands, my cheeks, my fingernails.

On the way to the hospital, Luka began to calm down quite a lot, and Michael decided to take him to his office instead of to the emergency room. The last trip to the ER cost 800 bucks and we didn’t even have any tests done! So, Michael and his nurse put Luka in a body-restraint, held his arms and head, gave him some shots and then Michael gave him 3 stitches.

He kept saying two of the few phrases he knew over and over: "Bye-bye??" And “Get DOWN!!”

He had chocolate chip cookies for dinner before heading back home.

And again, before bed, he was hopping all over the house, bouncing from one end of the couch to the other, giggling like a madman.

It was bedtime. Noah’s fever was still up over 100. We gave Luka some Motrin for when the Novocain (or whatever) wears off and I sat Noah in my lap while Michael spooned some cough medicine into him.

He immediately threw most of both spoonfuls up, into my lap, all over my hands. And I ended the night with pants covered in blood and vomit.

Not a good way to end a blog post, either.

But what can you do?

Would Someone PLEASE Explain My Child To Me Before I Lose My Freakin' Mind????

Okay...

(taking a deep breath)

I have this child, see. He is almost two and doesn't talk much, so he isn't the best communicator on God's green earth. And when its time to take a nap, he climbs the stairs, giving me little kisses through the railing and plops giggling into his crib with more kisses, his lambie and two matchbox cars, no more, no less.

And he sleeps. He sleeps well. Out of my three boys, he is the bestest of sleepers.

But then...

then...

When said nap is done, and he begins to wake, he calls out, "Daddy!!...DADDY!!!"

(yes, he still calls me Daddy!)

So, I go up there to get him.

He just cheerfully calls, I open the door, and he bursts into tears (sometimes without even seeing me, his face in his pillow) and starts shaking his head, "no" like I am Nurse Ratched coming with the giant hypodermic needle.

I try to pick him up and he starts bucking like a bronco, and bawling. If I walk out of the room and leave him in the bed he cries harder and starts calling again. If I just stand beside him in the bed, he cries more quietly and just shakes his head back and forth.

Eventually, I pick him up anyway, because I usually have his twin brother wandering the downstairs all alone which is never wise. At this point he will start thrashing about until I can barely hold him. If I put him on the floor, he begs to be picked up. If I put him back in the crib, he acts like it was the cruelest thing I have ever done. If I try to sit with him in the rocking chair he freaks out completely.

So, I clutch his head close to my chest to prevent sudden bucking and banging of heads on the way through the doorframe and down the narrow hallway. I clutch him tight on the way down the stairs because then he goes REALLY crazy.

Once he realizes he is downstairs and has lost his battle for whatever it was he wanted or didn't want, he just wants to be held, but will be angry and cry and be completely inconsolable for about 45 minutes. Even if I try to hand him things he wants but usually isn't allowed to touch, he will just throw them on the floor.

He doesn't talk, so I ask him questions...

"Do you want to go night night?" He shakes his head "No."

"Do you want your pillow?" "No."

"Do you want a car?" "No."

"Do you want Lambie?" "No."

"Do you want to go back upstairs?" "No."

"Do you want a cookie?" "No."

"Do you want to watch a video?" "No."

"Do you want to make your mother run screaming through the house, tearing out her hair?????" He looks at me quizzically than shakes his head, "No."

And then he bursts into tears for another half hour.

I try to change the scenario. Sometimes I get him right away, sometimes I make him wait for quite awhile, but he keeps calling. I have tried not picking him up for 10 minutes after coming in the door, but he still lays there and bawls. I have tried various methods but it always turns out the same way.

Can someone tell me WHAT MY CHILD WANTS ME TO DO??

Okay... I am off to go chant some mantras or do some whiskey shots or something.

Let The Brainwashing Begin!!

I had the talk with Noah.

Oh NO!!

No, no, no… not THAT talk!

I mean the one you have with four-year-old-about-to-turn-five. The one this time of year… the SANTA talk! I had the Santa talk with Noah.

He went off with Cooper yesterday for Cooper’s birthday celebration at Build-a-Bear. He and Cooper, and Cooper’s little brother got to pick out a stuffed animal, have it stuffed, put a little heart in it, dress it up and give it a name. After the hoopla, they walked through the mall, and although it’s not even yet THANKSGIVING, there was Santa Claus, sitting around waiting for someone, anyone, to come talk to him.

So Cooper’s mom took the boys over for a little chat.

Nobody really wanted to sit on the guy’s lap, but they were happy to talk with him about what they wanted for Christmas, how they were being good boys this year, etc. Santa asked them if they were doing well at sharing, told them they needed to learn to work together, and told him that he was going to keep an eye on them for the rest of the year because he hadn’t decided which list to put them on yet, the Good Boy List, or, you know… that OTHER list!

So, during tuck-ins that night, I lay beside Noah in the dark and he begins with the questions…

“Mom… was that the real Santa Claus?”

“Oh, um… well… what did he look like?”

“Like Santa Claus”

“Well, did he have a real beard, or was it a costume beard?”

“I think it was a real beard.”

“Did he have a jolly round belly, or did it feel like he had pillows under his coat?”

“I think it was real… he wasn’t really big. He was like, PLUMP!”

“And did he look like a grandpa, or did he look like a younger guy, like Daddy?”

“He was kinda grampa-ish. Was that man the real Santa Claus?”

“Hmmmm… well, they say that Santa can do some pretty great magic, but I don’t think he has time to go to ALL the malls and talk to ALL the children. Some people say that he can split up into different people to get the job done, and other people say that he has helpers, who dress up like him, find out what the kids want, and then they go and tell Santa.”

Yeah, I was makin’ all that up during the rapid fire questioning… I have amazing mental acrobatic skills.

“So, was that man the real Santa Claus?”

“Well, if you think the beard was real, and his plumpness was real, and he looked like a grandpa and he was kind… you know, honey? I think maybe that just might have been the real Santa Claus. It sounds to me like you guys got lucky and picked the right mall!

“Whoa.”

“Yeah, I know!”

(crickets chirping. I must have made it through...)

“Mom, I have to work really extra hard to get on the good list. Or I might not get any Moon Sand. Can Santa Claus fly?”

“I don’t think he can fly, but he has 12 reindeer that can fly, and a flying sleigh! Yeah… and you know, I think he would land right on that part of the roof right outside your window because that’s where the chimney is!”

“Whoa. Right there? How does he get down the chimney if he’s… you know, plump?”

He loves the word plump, and uses it whenever possible. It makes him giggle.

“Oh, well, you know…”

“Uh-huh…”

“Well, um… you see… well, no one really knows for sure because he won’t come to your house unless EVERYONE is asleep, so no one has ever really seen it! But some people think he can turn into a whisp of smoke, and shoot down the chimney, and then POOF! Into your living room!”

I make a mental note to possibly remove the baby gate we stretched across our fireplace opening to prevent Luka from climbing to the roof.

“Whoa.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How does he get into your house if you don’t have a chimney?”

Oh, I was so unprepared for the talk! Why did I mention the damned chimney? Less is More... Less is More... There should be books on this, so that everyone knows what to say without stammering when the time comes!! But then it came to me!

“Oh, with his magic key, of course! It lets him into the front door of every home!”

“Whoa. Mom, I am going to have to work really extra hard to get on the good list. Or I might not get any Moon Sand.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“Yeah. I don’t want no rock of coal.”

“I don’t want any…”

“I don’t want any rock of coal.”

“Lump.”

“Huh?”

“Nothin’. Goodnight, Sweetie.”

“’Night, Mom.”

**********************

Oh, that in the picture there? That is the new awesome shirt I won for Noah from a nifty blog called Memarie Lane! It was made by the generous folks over at Trendy Tadpole, and they have lots of funny stuff! Buy large, though... that's a size 6T on Noah!

R.I.P.

Revenge of the Goldfish by Sandra Skoglund

Ahhhh, Zeus, we hardly knew ye!

Yes, it’s true. We are in deep mourning today for our dear departed carnival goldfish, Zeus, who passed away last night in his sleep. Well, his eyes were still open, so maybe it was not in his sleep.

You may recall that I wrote about the nasty trick some lady played on us loving adoption story of how Zeus came to live with us. I could link to it, but heck, its only four posts down. Scroll to it yourself, slacker!

Thankfully, I had warned Noah that this was likely to happen after a week or two. Well, he made it all of five days. Five glorious days!

I had read up on what goldfish need. TEN gallons of water per goldfish!! Geez Louise! We gave him just shy of a gallon, as we have limited safe places where climbing toddlers cannot reach, nor did we want to invest a lot of money into a fish we never wanted to take home in the first place.

I wanted to spiff up his little cage cozy home, so I turned half an Easter egg into a little cave, and popped in a little plastic tree from Noah’s little Fisher Price Barnyard set. I hope that gave him some solace from the desolation of our kitchen counter.

Noah asked if he could see Zeus one last time, and when I explained that fish want to go “back to the ocean when they die” and how we make that happen, he was irate that he didn’t get to see a dead body saddened that he had missed the funeral.

So, fair thee well, our dear friend, and lifelong five-day-long companion!

Godspeed on your final swim to the ocean!!

Eureka!!

Noah is tunnel crazy. He loves them in all forms. He loves when we drive through them; he is fascinated with sewers and sink pipes, caves and paper towel tubes. So, when I found out about the Gold Mine Tour in Julian, CA, I knew I had to take him up there for the day.

I try to do something fun for Noah every weekend since he has been forced to give up a lot of one-on-one time since the twins were born. Sometimes it’s just a Happy Meal after errands, but sometimes it’s a small trip. Like last weekend: we checked out the Fleet Science Center which he just LOVED!

Daddy, always the trooper, tends to stay home with the twins so they can get some Daddy time and because he doesn’t feel the need to get out of the house as much as I do.

This weekend, we invited Noah’s friend Cooper and his mom, Joyce, to come along with us up to Julian, sans little brothers. Joyce and I loved it because we both got to parent without diapers or strollers or spoon feeding or naps. It was awesome and gave us a glimpse of our future freedom when the youngest boys in our families are a bit older.

The boys had a blast roaming through the mine shafts and tunnels, up rickety ladders and such. They even got to try their hand at panning for gold. I found a few sandy specks myself!

Afterward, we headed for a local pizza place, and scarfed down some pepperoni. What’s cool about being around other moms with kids the same age as your own is that you can pick up some cool parenting tricks. Joyce had an endless stream of ideas for quiet games we could play at the table while waiting. The best one was the finger game. During normal conversation, one person puts their finger on their nose. When someone notices that someone else has done this, they do it, too. Eventually everyone does it and the last one without a finger on their nose is the loser.

And then everyone giggles maniacally.

We did a bit of shopping, especially in the candy store, where we sampled fudge and came out with little white sacks bulging with goodies. We had planned to go for ice cream at the old fashioned soda fountain, but after all that sugar we weren’t so much in the mood.

So we piled back in the car and headed for Lake Cuyamaca (not before scoping out some campgrounds for future weekend adventures) where we had to pay SIX BUCKS for the privilege of letting the boys throw rocks in the water! But after an hour of one of Noah’s favorite pastimes, it was probably worth it.

And it was so good for Noah to be able to play with someone his age after always being around toddlers lately. We only see Cooper for a few minutes on the ride home from school so it was great for them to have some true bonding time. And Joyce and I got some yummy girl-talk time and really got to know each other better. When I take Noah out alone, it usually means being his buddy and throwing rocks in the water right beside him, which (don’t get me wrong!) is great, but sitting and chatting with a friend while watching your kids discover the wonder of bugs under logs and stones and the myriad of things a pile of sticks can become…

…well that just rocks!

Curses! Foiled Again!

I keep seeing Stay at Home Mamas pushing their strollers past my front window on their way to the neigborhood park and I get the urge to toss my kids in the stroller and run down there so I have someone to talk to. But usually one is sleeping or its just about time for lunch or I am still in my pajamas.

So I got this idea...

I printed up a flyer that said, "ATTENTION: STAY-AT-HOME MOMS!!" and below that I listed a time and day for all of us to come to the playground at the same time, so that we would be able to meet other moms who stay at home all day. I posted it about five days ago in two sposts at the playground.

Well, today, at the posted time, I pack up the kids and pedal on down there, and from a distance I see that there is not a single mom. Just 3 10-year-old boys hanging out. I played with the babies and waited a good half hour.

Want to know why no one showed up? Because someone had taken down my two signs.

I wondered if this would happen. I mean I do live in an association neighborhood, and the only signs you ever see posted in the area are for council meetings and such. I assumed there was probably a policy about posting signs. This is why I did not place my name or address on the flyers.

But Geez!!! It's not like I was selling anything or advertising! I'm trying to start a neighborhood community group!! Of FRIENDS!

Whoever took it down must have thought it was more important to NOT have two pieces of paper taped to the swingset and the slide than it was for some isolated women to get together and make some friends!!

It even said things like, "Finding it hard to make friends when you stay home all day? Feeling Lonely?" and "Lets get a big weekly group together so we can meet new people!" "Nannies and Daddies welcome!" and still, whoever it was, decided to take the signs down!!

For God's sake, if someone feels like keeping the neighborhood park so freaking clean, they should maybe bring a trashbag and pick up all the cigarette butts, plastic picnic forks, and plastic cup lids that are laying in the sand!

(stepping down from my little soap box now...)

I am trying to come up with a new plan of attack... maybe taping signs down to the floors of the play structures so that people won't see them from a distance... but they will if they are up at the structure preventing their small children from falling off.

If that doesn't work, maybe I will have to make little invite cards and keep them by the front door so I can run them out to passing women pushing strollers!

What's a girl gotta do!!???

Please Won't You Be... My Neighbor!

I took the twins to the park this morning. I brought the camera and tried to get some good pictures of them.


Met another Mom there of a boy the same age as Ethan and Luka. With my lack of friends here in San Diego, I practically gushed all over her with my "please be my friend" behavior. She seemed pretty cool (she had an "ohm" tattooed on the back of her neck so she must be at least a little funky!), and it’s so nice to have a grown up to talk to during the day, so I was overly-chatty.

She told me her name and suggested that we both try to come before nap time more often and maybe we would see each other. She lives on my street. Yay.

It has been kind of isolated here in San Diego. Most folks I meet already have friends and don't need new ones. And without a job, its hard to meet other people with the same kind of issues and interests that I have.

It seems you lose friends at three times in your life... when you get married you lose your single friends, when you have a baby, you drift away from your childless friends, and when you move, you lose everyone that is left!

When I was pregnant with Noah and had just moved to Ohio, and I had no friends. I practically forced myself on two of the moms in my birthing class at the hospital when I learned they lived in the same suburb I did. "Hey, we should hang out when we all have our babies!!" Miraculously, it worked, and I ended up with one of my best friends ever (Hi, Pam!!).

We traded babysitting to the betterment of our marriages; we shared breastfeeding problems and hormonal changes, and just gave each other company and encouragement in that time of scary-new-motherhood. I thank God for her.

But, now, I have done it again. I have moved to a new place.

I have always loved moving to new places, but I find it harder to make friends now than usual. I barely have time (or is it the energy, these days) to get myself dressed and out of the house. I have gone to some Mommy Groups and met some really cool women but they, of course, are very active, busy and plugged-in and don't see me in all my glorious loneliness.

Don't get me wrong, I am not all miserable, nor am I depressed. I just miss my old friends and the companionship of someone to just hang out with or gab on the phone about nothing important. I miss being someone's go-to when they have something to vent about. I miss that my son doesn't have a best friend anymore.


So, really, I am okay. I am just venting here because I don't have someone to have a mocha with, or curl up on the couch and call and say all this to right now.

And so it begins....

Well, the day has come. A new milestone and the beginning of a new life for, well, all of us.

It's certainly not a stellar day in the world of photography (yes, I can say I have done better) but it IS however...

...the first time my child has brought home some HOMEWORK!

Noah is off to kindergarten in about six weeks. I asked his Montessori Preschool teacher if she thought he was ready to go, socially as well as academically. She felt he is pretty much good to go...

"...except for...well...his penmanship."

"It sucks?" (No, OK, I didn't really say that)

"Yeah, it sucks" (OK, I am maybe paraphrasing here a little.)

"The kids in kindergarten can usually write a bit better than he can."

Three days later he comes home with two pages. One has the letter "a" written a couple times across the top and the other has the letter "b". Each letter is followed by rows of empty lines with that dreaded dotted line down the middle that we all came to know and love in elementary school.

Noah was actually kind of excited for the first time about practicing his letters (he usually peters out after about 2 "a's"). A little quick math had me wondering if I had 13 more nights of letter practice in front of me. But he sat down with me and we talked about how to make each effort a little better than the last and the ones at the end of each page were certainly superior to the ones at the beginning!

He was very proud. I was very proud. But I was also imagining a life of sitting at the dining room table most evenings trying not to do his homework for him.

And that screechy Mom-voice I just know I am gonna have...

"Noah???? Didja do your homework???"

Hard-Headed Man

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

Nasty scare this afternoon. I hate to fly, and I don’t much care to have my family flying either (well, the flying I love, its falling for long, long periods of time that scares me) so I have been on edge most of the day since dropping off my parents and niece at the airport to head home from their San Diego Extravaganza.

But, as you likely have heard, most injuries happen at home. Today, Luka, one of my twin toddlers, whom we always joke about being a monkey and how we will spend half our life in the emergency room with, is there for his first visit.

He loves to just walk off the edge of the couch landing on the mini-kiddie-couch and a bunch of pillows. Well, this afternoon, he did that, onto my older son Noah. I expected the usual, “OWWWW!!! Mom!!! Get Luka OFF of me!!!!” But instead I was greeted by giggles from both parties. Luka climbed up again, and jumped onto Noah again, and again giggles all around. It was so much fun seeing camaraderie where there is usually complaints that I just watched them tumble and roughhouse with only small reminders to be gentle.

And gentle Noah was. As Luka jumped down onto Noah and the toy couch, Noah caught him in a hug and slowly rolled him down to the floor. Only, in slow motion what I saw was Luka’s head squishing into the corner of a rough brick in the corner of the fireplace hearth, and listening to that sickly “thunk”. Then, the silent scream as I scooped him up, the open mouth expression of terror and pain and injustice for many long seconds before there was enough breath to make an actual voiced scream.

My hand instinctively went to the side of his head and felt the foreign object there… the bigger-than-a-marble lump that was a sack of blood that had filled up in less than 3 seconds.

My husband, the doctor, said it was probably okay. Luka had not passed out, nor did he look disoriented after a few minutes. But as the minutes grinded on and Luka would not take the ibuprofen or the ice pack, and the lump grew to the size of a small Brussels sprout, Michael asked if I was sure he had hit the CORNER of the brick.

Yes, I was very sure.

I asked what he would do if a patient came in with the same story and same huge lump.

He would send them straight to the emergency room.

Hmmmmm….

He decided that it might be best if he took Luka into the emergency room for a cat scan.

I am home waiting, with Ethan and Noah.

Noah came out from under a blanket to very solemnly apologize for hurting Luka.

“Oh, baby… this was an accident. I LOVE that you were both playing so happily. It could have just as easily been you with the big boo-boo. You were helping him roll down to the floor. You weren’t playing too rough at all, baby.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

So, we wait.

*****

LATER

Michael called and Luka is still acting pretty normally besides touching his lump occasionally and crying from making it hurt some more. They got his vitals taken and are waiting for the doctor. The doctor may of course say Luka is fine and send him home. Michael says in some cases, they have to inject a needle and take the fluid out. But it may just go down on its own.

*****

MONDAY

Thank God that boy has a hard head. He is going to need it in this life. Michael brought Luka home later that evening with no cat scan and no lancing. The bump had gone down by half by then, but here, two days later, there is still a nasty lump under that crazy hair. We were to watch him for a couple days for any odd behavior (Odd behavior??? From Luka?? Ohhhhhh… Odd, for HIM! I see!). And for a couple days he has seemed just fine.

Again Noah came forward and apologized for hurting his baby brother. Again I had to look him in the eye and try to get through that he did not do anything wrong. I guess I wasn't convincing last time. Not sure I was this time either. But if it helps him to remember to be gentle with the twins, so be it.

Already, when I picture Luka’s skull, it looks like one of those hard boiled eggs, after you smash it on the counter, but before you peel it apart… covered in tiny hairline cracks stretching out over the surface. We bought the living room rug for Luka to cover the hardwood floor that he was forever conking his head on. It has softened quite a few blows already. But this thud into a firm sharp corner was quite a bit scarier. I could just imagine the possible puncture through his little apple skull.

I imagine one day he WILL get that cat scan for some other injury and the doctors will wonder what all those other healing cracks are from.

“Daily life, Doctor. Just Luka’s daily life.”

Little Slugger

It’s so nice when you feel like you have a good balance of work and play in a weekend. Like it wasn’t wasted sitting around, but you didn’t feel like you had no break either. This was a good weekend.

Saturday was a mix of errands and hanging around the house. Michael took the babies for a long stroller walk while Noah helped me clean some of the still-unpacked boxes of toys out of his closet. If we can just get them sorted through and into the toy storage bins, we can then freecycle what we don’t really need, and make room in his closet for the unpacked OTHER boxes that are hanging out in the stairwell! Got halfway, through THAT job, mostly because unpacking (and PUTTING AWAY!) toys you haven’t seen in months is really not so easy for a four year old kid to manage.

Michael built a bookshelf for Noah’s room to hold the myriad of books that were handed down to him from Bayuh’s classroom teaching days. (Bayuh is the name Noah made up for my mom when he was just a wee thing. It sounds a little like Bee-uh. Or how someone from Boston would order a brewski.)

On Sunday, I took Noah to a birthday party in a local park for one of the girls in his Montessori Preschool class. He had gotten a few invitations earlier in the year but this time he really showed interest in going. There was a the inevitable “jumping room” and the “required-for-birthday-parties-in-Southern-California-Piñata”. There were many girls and just a few boys, but Noah, his classmate Ryan, and a couple of the dads played baseball for at least a full hour! Noah really hasn’t had a lot of practice with ball playing so the three year old kid (read: only child) showed him up a bit. But after a good deal of practice, he really started pitching pretty well, and hitting the ball quite a lot!

A good time was had by all. I even enjoyed a little adult conversation, which I rarely get since I haven’t made any new friends here yet, and almost never talk to the couple people I do know. It was good to get away from the (forgive me Luka) desperation and drama one of my twins is constantly displaying every time I walk into the kitchen or go to the bathroom.

I never knew how nice it could be to sit in a folding camp chair in the sun, with sunglasses on, pretending NOT to be dozing off.

Maybe that whole soccer-mom-on-the-sidelines thing WON’T be so bad…

Queen of the House

I was trying to think of the best way to explain my life to you. I think this says it all...



I have to give credit where credit is due... I saw this first on another mama-blog called Halushki . Its awesome writing if you wanna check her out.