A Lesson Learned

Today, I learned a valuable lesson that parents of a 3-year old should NEVER EVER take their child with them when they go the store to buy a Step 2 Sand and Water Table. NEVER. Don't even entertain the thought. Particularly if you live in a northern state and it's only April.

My 3-year old now knows that the table is in the trunk of my car....all disassembled in it's 50 individual pieces inside its box still. He knows that 39 degrees does not feel cold to him, even though I vehemently argue with him that the Sand and Water Table is a SUMMER toy.

I spent an entire evening thinking of creative ways to reason with him that water + outdoor toys can't happen until it gets warmer. And by the time we went to bed, I was deluded into believing that I had won the battle.

So you can imagine my dashed hopes of a peaceful day when he hollered from the top of the stairs this morning, in a very groggy/sleepy voice that it's "warm outside". I just laughed and told him he was silly believing that I had dismissively extinguished the situation. How naive and innocent of me. I still failed to see the eminent imminence of the torrent that was about to spew as he tried to quietly argue that the 28 degree morning temperature was "warm" throughout our remaining morning ritual of getting ready for work and daycare.

As we headed to the door, I asked him to pull up the hood of his coat because it was cold outside. Big mistake! Upon walking outside, he realizes that it's NOT a blustery, biting blizzard outside, but a mere 28 degrees that does not really require the hood of his coat to be worn. By the time I advance to the car, he is sobbing for his play table with the biggest, fattest tears and saddest frown I have ever seen. In my entire life. Ever. In fact, I am quite sure that even the pilot of the single engine plane flying overhead was feeling vast degrees of sympathy for him.

I felt so bad for him that I lead him to the back of the car, and popped open the trunk to show him that his play table is still there, and will be waiting for him until the weather is warmer. Ohhhh, so not the right thing to do. Now the entire passenger and crew of the Boeing 747 flying miles over our city can hear his lament. But wait, it gets better. Now he has seen the big plastic beach pal and sand molds that I previously (and smartly) bought when he was at daycare and left in my trunk.

The episode ended only after I was made to promise that I would set up the Sand and Water Table in the 50 degree "warm" weather after work tonight. So if you are on a Boeing 747 flying over the great lakes region tonight and you hear some rabid cursing spewing from beneath, that would be just me trying to assemble this table...in the 50 degree 'warm' weather.

So heed my advice new and expecting parents. Leave the kid at home when you plan to buy outside play toys in the cooler weather -- unless, of course, you like to assemble things in 30, 40, or 50 degree weather and water to the situation.

Now, I wonder how he'll react when I tell him 'no water' for his table until it's at least 60 degrees -- sand only for now...

OLibya

I never had to contemplate before the challenges of explaining war to a young child. And with a husband who will be deploying next season, I guess I can't just change the subject or flip to the Nick Jr. channel to distract.

I still don't know what all the answers are when he points to the war guns on the news and asks if those are the bad guys. Quite honestly, I don't even know who the bad guys actually are anymore in these recent battles (don't get me started!). And this is a dilemma that an Army wife just has to figure out on her own when her 3-year old asks these questions.

But on the way to daycare this morning, NPR was updating the events in Libya and Aidan suddenly got excited, repeating "Alibia, alibia!". Since it was only two days ago that I was trying to get him to properly pronounce Nick Jr.'s pig cartoon "Olivia", I knew he thought the radio story was about Olivia the cartoon pig.

Hmmm...(insert day dream noise effects here)

This is the BBC Radio News Hour. Special forces just completed a successful peace operation over Libyan rebel strongholds. We've been told that Special Agent Olivia pirouetted from a chopper and stunned leaders with her dance of awe. All rebels, pilots, and allies were so impressed that they've promised to restore world peace as long as Olivia and her cat Edwin perform weekly entertainment.

Back to reality. In the meantime, I will just have to work on my toddler-explanations of what is going on in the world -- all while watching a Nick Jr. Olivia marathon.

Attn Eric Carle

Dear Mr. Carle: I have a new book for you to write:

Taco Bell, Taco Bell what do you see? I see a motorcycle looking at me.

Motorcycle, motorcycle what do you see? I see chicken nuggets looking at me.

Chicken nuggets, chicken nuggets what do you see? I see mommy looking at me.

Thank you. That is all.

Sincerely,

Aidan

Introducing the New Huff & Puff Air Gun

Although my hubby would probably argue that he is full of wit and humor, some of us might beg to differ. But some days, I wonder where our 3-year old gets his sense of humor from.

Probably like any 3 year old, Aidan loves reciting a few of the famous lines from the Three Little Pigs. The part where the wolf wants to get into the house. So we take turns being the wolf and pig. We'll have to repeat the lines over and over until I can think of something creative to distract him with.

Yesterday, Aidan took a creative approach to the wolf's role of huffing and puffing. He lugged his ball popper next to the chair I was sitting in and once again, started reciting the big bad wolf's line, and I followed with "not by the hair of my chinny chin chin". Then he armed himself with his ball popper as if it were a bazooka, aimed it at my hair, and turned it on. You can imagine his peals of laughter as he fired the air from the ball popper at me while he tried to recite through his giggles, "then, I'm gonna huff, and puff, and blow your house down". How did I end up with such a prankster for a child?

Maybe all the credit goes to Despicable Me, which we had just watched a day earlier, with all of their big, bulky, piranha guns, squid guns, and inflatable Vector guns. Now we have the big, bad Huff & Puff Forced Air gun. You should get one. It plays a silly tune that will make your youngster scream and giggle while it huffs and puffs your house down.

Toothpaste and Chocolate

During our morning rituals today, Aidan and I prepared to brush our teeth. He reached for my toothpaste. I stopped him and said "No, that's mommy's toothpaste. You wouldn't like that kind," as I lead him toward his Ben 10, bubble gum flavored toothpaste. He then asked, "It's chocolate?"

I'm still pondering on whether that little conversation makes a statement about his aversion to chocolate, or if it makes a bigger statement about my eating habits. I'm not sure which.

Boogers and Other Sleep Habits

It's been a revealing week for me...and it's only Wednesday! First, after being wakened around 1:00 am Tuesday morning to Aidan's screams and cries, I discovered that he has made quite a lot of leaps with his potty training progress. When I got to his room and asked what was wrong, he sniveled, "I have to go potty." Yessss! I'm so excited (lol). Only then did I think back to the last couple of weeks and realized that we really hadn't had any accidents during the day. And he has been dry most of the mornings, too. So maybe there is hope that we actually won't have to buy pull-ups and wet wipes some day!

The other revelation this week is that he has finally learned the habit of picking his nose. Not so much during the day, but during those last few waking moments as he struggles against the R.E.M. stage of sleep.

As I watched him fall asleep for the last two nights, I was filled with wonder at how someone who is half asleep can have such a busy finger probing around in his nasal cavity. What really got me curious last night was when just as his eye lids were getting too heavy and his eyes were just about rolling into the back of his head, his probing finger ejected from his nose and inserted right into his mouth. The last thing he did before succombing to the R.E.M. struggle was to swallow. Eeew. I never would have considered that he was about to do that...never.

But it made me ponder for a few minutes. Is the human habit of nose picking, along with EATING IT, such a primal instinct that a young child can perform the task unconsciously? Or is it just simply a learned behavior from classmates at preschool? Regardless of which it is, it is a very powerful force.

So as I get to wane away from pull-ups and wet wipes, I will now get to focus efforts on etiquette and tissues. May the force be with me.

A new tradition

With the countdown of remaining weeks heavy on my mind (until Kevin's deployment), I have informed Kevin's daughters that we are finally going to have Sunday dinners together--no excuses anymore.

So last night was our first Sunday dinner, and hopefully the beginning of a new tradition. It was nice to have everybody together around the table, without a big event like a birthday or holiday to distract us from spending quality time.

Aidan was a complete show off for his older sisters, and Kevin basked in the warmth of our family night together. I've learned that Aidan likes to impress people (people other than mom and dad) with his potty training skills. He walked into that bathroom and did his business like a seasoned veteran of the toilet, purely for the benefit of impressing his house guests. (And not for the benefit of mom and dad.) Hmmm.

Otherwise, the last few days have been uneventful. Mostly, we've been trying to get rid of cold and flu bugs between Aidan, Kevin and I. This is virus number 3 for me in the past 30 days. Off to go find some nasal decongestant.

A Special Good Bye

I'm going to be selfish on this post and just reflect on this depressing week. As if bad weather and power outages wasn't enough this week, and as if the sick toddler who had to stay home from daycare for 3 days still wasn't enough, my beloved kitty had to be put to rest.

Weasel was born behind my couch 18 years ago and I fell in love with her as soon as I saw her tiger stripes. She was my special, precious pet, and she always knew it. When Aidan was born, it didn't take her long to realize that she would have to share my lap, attention, and time with the little human and all the nervous energy that came with him. She never ran away from him, though, when he came after her to kiss her and pet her. She never hissed at him when he startled her from her sleep. And she never bit or scratched when he was over zealous. She just patiently waited her turn until there was enough room on my lap to squeeze into. And we were all happy.

Until this past week when it was clear that her health was leaving her in a bad state. As I held her for the final hour before making the decision to put her to sleep, she didn't purr. Not even once. I took that as her sign that she had given up.

For the first time, I've had to explain to Aidan what death means. No easy feat for a parent of a 3-year old. Aidan proudly tells people that he has TWO kitties whenever someone mentions a dog or a cat. He's so happy to raise his two fingers up and tell people that. One his MANY daily questions is to ask where the kitty is--no matter where we're at or what's going on. (Because at 3, he is the king of questions these days.) Especially since these last 6 months or so her life mostly consisted of nothing but finding a warm place to go sleep in and bide her time. She was not always easy to locate.

So I have been trying to deal with not only the kitty's death, but how best to teach such a young person what death even means. I realize it's something that I don't want to have to explain to such a sweet, innocent person. Only lately have I realized that I have avoided using the words 'dead' or 'death' to Aidan. When trying to explain why a toy no longer works, I've found myself telling him the longer explanation that mommy has to go to the store and buy batteries so we can replace the batteries that don't work rather than just simply saying "the batteries are dead". But alas, I have been forced to reckon with this issue far sooner than I ever anticipated since we've lost kitty.

Yesterday, when he asked about her yet again, I simply said the kitty died. And then started the series of "why?" So I decided to take it further and tried the response "Kitty was really sick." He came back with "I'm sick too" (which he has been all week). So, oops, I better be careful how I proceed.

Then I tried "Kitty went to sleep and she's not going to wake up again." Ok, he didn't have a comeback to that. So I took it even further and said that we dug a hole in the ground and we put kitty in the ground. And then I got a whole series of comments: "Is the kitty going to eat dirt? I don't want to go in the hole. I don't want to eat dirt and mud." Sigh. So maybe I shouldn't have tried to explain the reality of death just yet.

I haven't gotten the 20 questions about the kitty today, so maybe something I said worked. (Or traumatized him! lol). Or maybe my teary-eyes and cracked voice did more to explain where kitty went than my words. We'll see as we progress through the next couple of weeks.

In the meantime Weasel, know that your life made a difference to me, and Aidan. And even to Kevin too. The photo-art project I never got around to completing just got moved up the priority list and your sepia prints are about a day away from being hung on the wall. Right above your favorite warm spot to sleep in. We miss you already!

What Time Is It?

Did he really just ask me that?! Why does a three year old want to know what time it is? I guess he's just wanting to fit in. To sound grown up. To mimic participation in the rat race that we all wish we didn't have to be a part of. That's OK. I'll let him pretend. But when he starts asking to be home by 2:00 to watch Olivia, or Dino Dan, or Dinosaur Train, I'll have to remove all the batteries from the clocks.

What else is new? Well, I probably cured him from wanting to hang out in the basement by himself. He was down there by himself watching Nick Jr. when the power went out. Let me just say, basements get very dark when all the lights suddenly shut off. Poor kid. He was terrified down there until I could go rescue him. On the bright side, he should ascend the stairs very willingly from now on when it's time to start getting ready for bed and I start heading up without him!

Other than that, hives and party planning (for grandma Jo and uncles Paul and Tom) consumed most of our attention for the past few days. The party was fun, and I'm glad it's no longer zapping my attention, but the hives still remain a mystery. If we make it through today, it will be day no. 3 without hives. They've come in the middle of the night, in the middle of the day, and at bath time. And the weird reaction he had to the PCV13 immunization keeps lingering in the back of my mind. But what I'm gonna do? Just stock up on the Benadryl, I guess.

Oh, and another focus of attention these past few days is the poor ailing kitty. She is 18 and not doing so well. Aidan respects her a lot and showers her with gentle kisses when she's sleeping on the couch (yeah, sorry about that kitty!). I've found that I can't seem to use the word "dead" or "die" to Aidan. I wish I didn't ever have to explain death to him, but I know it must be addressed. Probably the sooner the better. I just wish this first lesson doesn't have to be on the beloved kitty. More to come on that later...

My Ally

There is no other reason for this post other than to prove Kevin wrong about something. (Sorry babe).

For months, I've always commented to Kevin how much Cheryl Hines reminds me of his sister-in-law whenever I watch Curb Your Enthusiasm (which I don't watch very often). And Kevin's response is always the same, "I just don't see any resemblance".

So last night, as Aidan played in the next room, I watched an episode before going to bed. When Aidan came somersaulting through the room, he stood up quickly and pointed to the TV. The TV which was focused on Cheryl Hines. And he said "That's Ava's mommy". (Ava's mommy is also Kevin's sister-in-law).

I never felt so vindicated before! lol

But I will admit, however, that the TV then panned to Larry David and he pointed to Larry and said "That's daddy". OK, maybe that was a result from me laughing my butt off that Cheryl looks like Ava's mommy. He was on a roll and wanted me to continue laughing. Right?! Surely Kevin doesn't look like Larry David!(?)

Yesssss!

Wow, I'm 4 days behind already. Technically 3 because the post I started on Thursday turned out to be lengthy and I saved it for posting later since I wanted to analyze whether it was too rambly.

Notes for the days missed:

Thurs: I discovered that he expresses when he's "excited" now. It cracks me up when we're getting ready go down the ski slope on the Wii Fit and he says "Oh I'm so excited" as it counts down to let him ski the slope.

Fri: By the next day, he's exclaiming "YESSSSS!" when he lands from his ski jump without tumbling into a giant snow ball. Where did he learn that???? I swear, we have not watched Napoleon Dynamite even once since he's been born.

Sat: He fell asleep in the grocery cart. We were quite the spectacle at Meijers. He was slumped over on the side (using his coat as a pillow) while his arm dangled over the handle bar of the cart. And for anyone who has ever seen Aidan sleep during REM stage, they don't know whether to laugh or to be grossed out. His eyes are always half open. We got a lot of looks yesterday lol.

Sun: Aidan discovered eye boogers. Now it's twenty questions about eye boogers.

Family Royalty

Today, I was informed that daddy is the king, and mommy is the princess. I asked Aidan if that means he is the prince. Even after explaining the difference between prince and princess, he still insists that he is not a "princess". He is Spiderman.

Uh oh. This must be a foreboding sign that some evil doom is about to be set upon the kingdom in which only Spidey can get us out of. Better stay tuned... (lol)

Fascination With Nose

So, last night at dinner, as the adults were conversing, I noticed our 3-year old giggling about his nose while sticking his finger far up into it. And something made me wonder whether he stuck something up his nose. A few minutes later, there was a series of sneezes, a shudder of the shoulders, and another couple of sneezes. Now I was almost certain he did stick something up there. After one final sneeze, I asked my husband to see if he could pull at something that was just barely dangling out of his nose.

Yep. He did. He stuck a spaghetti noodle up there. And then proceeded to try to stick a corner of his toast up his nose too.

Is this the start of a fascination to insert weird objects into his nose, followed by long waits in the ER? Hope not!

He's 3 Now

Sigh. It's true. Our little one is 3 now. I so love to go back to his baby pictures and remember the pure innocence and sweetness of his baby days. Not that he isn't sweet, still, but sometimes it comes with a little vinegar, too.

But if there is one thing I keep reminding myself regularly, it's to live in the NOW because it will feel all too fast when I'm wiping tears away as he reaches for his high school diploma. Slow down, interact, and savor the moments today.

While doing just that, I've noticed that having a three year old has been helpful at times. He makes a great snow-shoveler! That was a pleasant surprise to see how helpful he really could be when the driveway needs clearing. He also likes to show me where the paint is peeling on the walls (the previous owners of our house did a horrible job in picking the proper kind of paint). As I saw the latest cracked and peeling corner that he pointed out in the upstairs hallway, I pondered aloud what would be the best color to paint the hallway. And he suggested the most perfect color that I would have never considered: White! I never think of white as a color option for painting. What would I do without this kid???

Before closing this post, I will be so bold to list my (new) goal for this spot. I hope to use this as my little 365-day project. Yes, it's true, I bought the 365 index cards and dated them to put into a special little box so that I could add entries every single day and keep recycling through the cards each year. Yes, it's true that I wrote entries for 'most' of the days...right up until I got bored at around day 60. But this time, it will be different. It will! I swear!