Happy November, Mary

We're going to have to figure out a strategy for Mary's birthday. She turned 3 on November 1st, but none of us really had the energy or the interest in putting on birthday hats the day after Halloween. But we didn't want her to feel forgotten either. Garrett was the most excited about her birthday. Garrett gets excited about all birthdays! He keeps asking me if it's his birthday yet. I remind him that his birthday is in January. He reminds me that he is going to be six.

So Mary's birthday turned into a week long celebration, kind of like Hanukkah. On the first day of Mary's birthday--a Saturday--we sat around in sugar comas, exhausted from the Halloween festivities that occurred all week. Then, as if we hadn't all had enough of Halloween, we decorated spooky cupcakes for a Halloween party that Chris and I attended that evening. The Halloween cupcakes squashed all desire for birthday cake. Still, we all said happy birthday to Mary and she happily toted around the gifts from her grandparents until I told her she could open them. I was surprised that she could wait so long. When she finally opened the boxes, she was delighted with her puppets and pretty clothes.

Day 2 of Mary's birthday was a Sunday. We asked her if she wanted to go anywhere special and she chose the "Apple Buchard." That's apple orchard to everyone else. Off we went to enjoy the beautiful day. As usual, we purchased the homemade apple doughnuts and apple slushies and sought out a picnic table for doughnut feasting. There was a wild kitty that also wanted to join our birthday party and hopped up on the table to give Mary a birthday nudge. How cute. Then it revealed a mouth full of sharp teeth and stole her doughnut. That's right! It was a wild-fanged-doughnut-snatching cat! Garrett and Mary became very concerned about the fate of the rest of our treats and ate their remaining doughnuts cautiously, holding them above their heads between bites. The cat circled it's prey, but was not successful again.

After doughnuts, we rode the ponies and fed the goats--he usual apple buchard stuff. Mary was so taken in by the friendly ponies and goats that she decided to be pals with the chicken too. Apparently the chicken is of the same ilk as the cat; it pecked her on the arm and made her angry. She said, "Mommy! That chicken bothered me! Bad chicken." Now if you ask her about the apple orchard, she won't talk about the nice ponies, the treats, or the goats. She'll tell you about the bad kitty and the bad chicken.

On Day 3 Mary and I went to the stationary store to buy some birthday cards for other people and passed by the singing card section. I wanted to get a singing Star Wars card for Garrett's birthday. He saw it a few months ago and keeps reminding me that it's the card he wants for his birthday. I am worried that they will sell out or stop making it, so I'm buying it in advance. Of course my little birthday girl was not going to be left out of the singing card show and insisted, as only she can, on having one of her own. Her fingers became glued to a Tinkerbell card that sings, "You can fly, you can fly, you can fly!" when you open it up. Let me pause here to say that if any of you are trying to think of a birthday gift for a 3 year old, the singing card is your answer! Mary loves to make her card start singing and then make it stop. You never know how long she will allow the song to go on. Sometimes you just get a "You can!..." or a "You!..." or even a "Y!..." Mary carried the card with her for days and used it as her official greeting. If you asked her how she was doing, she simply opened the card in your face and presented you with "YOU CAN FLY!" Slam! She also took it to bed with her, as she does all precious objects.

On Day 4 of Mary's birthday, she got to go to Target and use the gift card that Aunt Elaina sent to her. When the gift card arrived in the mail I explained, "Mary this is a gift card. It's just like money and you can take it to the store and choose your own present." She very matter of factly said, "Oh, what a great idea!" So, off we went to Target to stroll the isles. I was curious to see what she'd pick out because I'm not really sure what she'd like for Christmas. It didn't take long for a clear theme to develop: she likes anything with Disney Princesses on it! In our cart we had Disney Princess Pens and a Craft Case, Disney Princess hats and gloves, Disney Princess hair brushes and mirrors, and a Tinkerbell jewelry box with fairies on it. I explained that her gift card would not cover all the stuff in the cart and she would have to put some things back. She said, "Nooo!" I said, "Yes!" Ultimately, I kept the two things she cried the hardest over when they went out of the cart. The winners were Tinkerbell box and Disney Princess Craft Case. She carried the box everywhere. It sat on her lap in the car, it went with us on our walk to Garrett's school, it sat next to her at the computer, and dinner table, and yes, it went into the bed.

Day 5 included a full exploration of everything in the craft case, as well as several puppet shows provided by me.

Day 6 was a blessed day of birthday rest.

Day 7 was a busy party preparation day and a play day because Garrett had the day off of school for parent-teacher conferences. The kids had a great day playing pirates, making treasure maps, and rearranging the furniture to fit with their maps.

On Day 8 we had a nice birthday party for Mary. We were joined by 3 other families for a glorified play date with cake. Mary loved her cake, which had a Tinkerbell suspended over the top of it. She also loved the enormous Princess Balloon that Isabela's family brought for her. She carried it with her everywhere, which made it very easy to find her. I just had to look for the Goodyear Blimp sized balloon. Later the balloon was inaugurated into the treasure trove otherwise known as Mary's bed.

On November 9th I officially declared Mary's birthday: OVER! Thanks to all of you who made her birthday special. Now kindly celebrate someone else's birthday. Garrett is accepting birthday offers as of today.

Hidden Camera

I'm thinking about installing a secret camera in Garrett's room. Don't worry, I'll take it out before he's old enough to object to the invasion of his privacy. I want the camera to record our bedtime ritual. If you saw it you'd either say, "Awwweee! How sweet." Or you'd throw up because it's too sweet. Here's what you would have seen if I had the magic camera on last night.

ACT I
I came back from the gym in a bit of a hurry because I'm due in Garrett's room about 7:30. It was 7:35 when I made it up the stairs. I entered Garrett's room and he shot up in the bed with a big relieved grin on his face. "Oh, mommy, I'm so happy to see you. Did you have a good time at your gym?"

"Yes, Garrett. Thanks for asking. I did all my exercises." I sat on the bed next to him. He got a worried look on his face.

"Mommy, is it hard for you to see out there, when you're in the car, when you're going to your gym in the darktime?"


"It's harder to see than it is in the day, but I have big flashlights on the front of my car that help me see in the dark."
"Big flashlights!"

"Yes. They're on the front. I'm sure you've seen them."

"Oh, I would like to see those! Can you show me sometime?"

"Yes. We can take a special ride one night and you can see that I am safe." I thought it was so cute that he was laying there concerned about my safety. I know he listens for the garage door and wonders if I will make it home in time to read him his stories. "Did you pick out your stories?" I asked him.

"Yes! I will get them." Garrett gets very excited when I go to the library and get us a new round of books. He is getting more interested in reading and wants to choose a word or phrase from the story to read when it comes along. Last night he chose "Hens Pens" and "One Dark Night." We read each book, pointing out our favorite parts, talking about the pictures, and arguing about which words rhyme.

ACT II

After stories, Garrett gets a impish grin on his face and says, "Okay, mommy! Now time for tickles!" He sits up in his bed and curls his fingers like a bear that's about to roar. He laughs in anticipation of how he's going to get me. Poor Garrett. My arms are longer than his. And I'm stronger. He doesn't stand a chance. I grab him and tickle his tummy and he laughs and screams, "Stop, stop! Do it again!" When he takes rest, he repositions himself and considers alternative strategies to gain the advantage.


Plan A: Put mommy at a disadvantage. He says, "Okay mommy, you only get me with one hand." That's fair. But he didn't say I couldn't hold him down with the other one! He's defeated again.


Plan B: See if mommy will surrender herself. "Okay, Mommy, hold your arms out like this and don't move!" he puts his arms out like an airplane, indicating that I should just make my armpits and stomach available to him without defense. I say, "No way!" He begs. I pretend to comply and then grab him as he gets close, tickling his tummy and sniffing air from his neck like a dog. He laughs and screams in a singular sound and says, "Stop! Stop!"


Plan C: Take mommy by surprise. I taught him this one and he should know better than to use my own strategy against me. "Oh, Mommy! Look at that big spider over there!" I don't fall for it, and then he gets desperate and starts to make up stuff that couldn't be real. "Oh, mommy, WOOK! A big purple monster is coming to get you. He's next to R2D2! You better look!" I have pity for him and look. Then I snap back and tickle him again.


Plan D: Take Mommy by complete surprise and strike randomly. This might work if he didn't get the cutest and most devilish looks on his face just before the strike. His eyes get super wide, his lips press together in an effort not to smile with his teeth, and his arm draws back. Gee, I wonder what's coming. I actually laugh hard as if someone has got me pinned and is tickling me relentlessly because I think he is so funny. It's like there is a ticklish spot on my heart and eventually Garrett finds it. This is why I need the camera. I want to capture all those looks of surprise and glee and mischief on his face. And on mine.

ACT III

After tickles, Garrett and I settle into the blankets for our songs. He tries to fake me out a few more times with Tickle Hugs (hugs that are just a trap!), but I calm him down and tell him that we will not have time for all the songs if he doesn't lay still. I ask him, "What song would you like me to sing?"
He says, "The longest song."
I say, "Okay. But would you like another song first?" He chooses Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Then he chooses You Are My Sunshine.


When I first started singing You Are My Sunshine to Garrett, he asked me, "Mommy, why would they take the sunshine away?" I struggle to find a way to explain it. I can imagine what he's thinking as he hears the words, You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away. I say, "Well, the person singing the song loves the person who they are singing to, and they don't ever want to lose him."

"Why would she lose him?" he asks.

"Sometimes it's not something that we can stop from happening." I want to tell him that he will never lose me. I want to tell him that I would be lost without him, but I know that this is too much information and that it isn't something I can promise.

I start singing the second verse: The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke dear, I was mistaken, so I hung my head and I cried. I realize that in this verse the "sunshine" has already been taken, and I think sadly of my sister, Mary, and how I cling to her in my dreams. I remember that this is one of the only songs that we sang together often, but we did not give too much thought to all the words. We focused on the happy thoughts: you are my sunshine; my only sunshine; you'll never know how much I love you. And I realize that this is what Garrett hears. He is absorbing my love like a sponge and filtering out all my fear that I could lose him too. I think about how I will lose him in little ways over time. One day he will not want me to sing to him. He'll be on the phone with a girlfriend, or updating his Facebook page until he must turn out the lights. I'll be lucky to get a "'Night, mom."

I want the night to last forever, so I ask him, "Are you ready for the longest song?"

"Yes!" We face each other in the bed and he puts his arm around me. I am petting his hair. We both close our eyes. The "longest song" is Kathy's Song by Simon and Garfunkel. I started singing it to Garrett because it is near and dear to my heart and on the short list of songs that I have memorized.

Kathy's Song

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies

My mind's distracted and defused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day

And this song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I

Garrett does not ask me any questions about this song and I am glad. The song is about having someone on your mind, obstructing your thoughts--someone that you hold dear and admire and respect. Someone who is far away. I hope that as he comes to understand the words, he will know why I like to sing this song to him. I hope he will understand that he is never out of my mind. Even when he grows up and moves on from his childhood home, my thoughts will always be with him, kissing him when he starts his day, all of his young memories falling like raindrops in my mind. Thankfully, the magic of love is that you don't need a camera to remember it.

Beverages and More

Imagine that you had a special phone in your pocket that allowed you to press a button and order the beverage of your choice at any time. And, for your added enjoyment, you could also specify the container in which the beverage is housed. For example you could order an ice cold glass of milk in a pint glass, or a hot cup of coffee in your favorite mug--the one with the Chinese dragons on it (please), or perhaps you'd like to enjoy a Sunday morning Bloody Mary with a carrot, a pickle, and two olives in the double old fashioned crystal glass that uncle Ted used to sip scotch out of when he watched the nightly news.

Like magic, the drink would appear, but to your horror and disappointment, it is not presented in the famed crystal of Uncle Ted! "Take it back!" you cry. "I wanted Uncle Ted's glass!"

Your server smiles apologetically. She says, "But, it has the carrot, the pickle and two olives, just as you like it!"

You flop on the floor and wonder how we can all bear to live in a world in which our clearly specified requests are so blatantly ignored! You try to explain your position to your inept server: "But I asked for Uncle Ted's glass. I told you what I wanted. I said please! That's just a plain old ugly cup. I don't want it in that!"

It sounds ridiculous, but somehow this is happening in my house. Naturally, I am the server. I probably get requests like these 20 times a day: I want apple juice in a cup-the Star Wars cup….please. Can I have some chocolate milk….please…and I want it a purple cup with a purple straw. I want milk in a bottle, in the playroom. I want the bottle with the lion on it.

Before you start to think that I'm a total pushover, I will say that if I'm in an exceptionally good mood, I may try to honor the highly detailed beverage orders, but mostly I say, "Tough bananas, guys. The Star Wars cup is in the dishwasher, you're too old for bottles, straws are chosen randomly, and I don't even know if we have apple juice." When I show up with orange juice in a red cup with no straw I prepare myself for the crushing disappointment of my customers.

In graduate school I had an advisor with twin daughters. Both my advisor, Phil, and his wife were workaholic academics, with professional records to show for it. It was an incredible challenge for them to raise the twins, who were born at 25 weeks, and maintain the level of production to which they were accustomed. They employed enough babysitters, nannies, and caretakers to populate a small country. Every time I worked with my advisor he would get a call from the girls' mother reminding him that it was his pick-up day, informing him of the babysitter on duty, and telling him that he should already be in the car on the way to the girl's preschool if he planned to be there on time.

Once-and only once-I accompanied him to the girls' school for pick up because he promised we could discuss the edits for my research paper in the car. I was desperate for his time and accepted the offer. If I had known anything about toddlers, I would have known it was a fool's mission. On the way to the school he talked about the problem of finding reliable childcare to cover his and his wife's work schedule (that would be 24-7), while I held a pile of papers in my lap, pen poised, ready for constructive criticism. It did not come.

We arrived at the school and spent a solid 15 minutes gathering children, coats, artwork, and car seats. The car seats had to be reinstalled in the car every time he picked them up, because they did not use his car for drop off. The girls were wary of my presence in the car and were probably wondering if I was a new babysitter. Phil introduced me as his student, in case they might care.

After the kids were strapped in, the artwork was tucked away, and the bags and jackets were stowed, Phil started to talk to me about the contents of my paper. Picking up on the fact that they were not receiving his attention, the twins immediately started whining and crying and begging for something to drink.
Twin A: I'm firsty.
Twin B: I'm firsty too!
Twin A: I want juuuuiiiicccee.
Twin B: I want juice too!
TwinA: I want apple juice!
Twin B: I want orange juice!

It was clear that there was no chance Phil and I could talk about my paper. As I pondered the possibility that "firsty" is some sort of early unconscious Freudian slip for thinking you come first, Phil addressed the girls, "Okay, I don't have juice in the car. But, I'll call Deirdre and ask her to get the juices ready. Okay?"

Twin A: I want juice now!
Twin B: I'm firsty now! [Twin B starts to kick her feet against the seat and cry.]

Phil whips out a cell phone and calls, Deirdre. "Hi Deirdre. It's Phil. Yes, we're on our way home now. The girls are really thirsty and would like some juice. Could you get them ready so that they can have them right when we get home? We'll be home in about 2 minutes. Just bring it to the car."

Since I did not have kids, I could not believe what was happening. I was imagining myself as the parent of the twins saying, "Juice isn't here in the car. We'll have to wait until we get home and then we can have juice. Oops, and my phone is broken, so I can't call Deirdre."

In the two minutes that it took to pull into the garage, the girls tacked on a few specifications to their order, each one wanting their juice in a specific Disney cup. I could only imagine what horror awaited us when the much anticipated beverages were not presented in the proper vessels.

As expected, when we arrived in the garage, Deirdre materialized with the drink order in the wrong cups and tried to help Phil free the distraught girls from their seats. The shrill protests started with cries of agony over the cups. And the juice was all wrong! It was apple when it should have been orange, and orange when it should have been apple. I thought about having my own uterus removed during Christmas break. Stunned, I sat in the front seat and waited for the screaming banshees to be carried into the house, where Deirdre was frantically refilling juice into the right cups.

Phil returned to the car and said, "Sorry about that, Caroline. You can see why it's hard for me to work from home." Why oh why did I agree to that ride? I thought about how much Phil knows about psychology and animal behavior and attachment and personality development. How could he give in so easily with the cups? In an attempt to restore my faith in psychologists everywhere, I decided to ask.

"So, I have a question. Um… Why didn't you just tell the girls that if they want juice, it comes in the cup it's already in? Why switch the cups?"

"Oh, well, at the age of 3-and that's their chronological age, not their corrected age-they are operating at a base level of the limbic system. They do not have the kind of frontal lobe executive functioning that is required for reasoning, particularly when they are tired. There's no point in reasoning with them about the cups. The only thing that will stop the noise is producing the desired response."

"Huh," I said, while thinking privately to myself about the zillion reasons why I still would not have switched the cups. "I'm going to have a lot of issues with that limbic system if I ever have kids." I think I might favor Classical Conditioning and the pigeon experiments: no matter how many times you scream your head off, you don't get the pellet, or the juice in the pink Disneyland cup.

And this is why the beverage issue is bothering me. Somehow I have fallen into the murky waters of specialized beverage service. The pigeons have pecked and-on occasion-I have rewarded them with pellets made to order. Now we must go through the painful process of extinction, in which the pigeons must learn that although pecking has worked in the past, it is now a waste of energy. No pellets will be forthcoming. No amount of whining will produce apple juice in a Star Wars cup with a purple straw, cold, but no ice if you please.

Still, I know how they like their drinks, and I will probably tend to make choices that make them happy, as I do with anything else. If a purple straw makes your day, then by golly, I'll reach for purple. There is just something about demanding that your beverage be served up in a special way that makes me want to dump it on your head.

One day, after being given a specialized drink order, I said to Garrett, "Garrett, do you know what a waitress is?"

"No."

"I'll tell you. A waitress, or waiter, is someone who works in a restaurant and you pay them money to bring you what the restaurant has to offer. They will bring it just the way you like it."

"Oh, that's nice," he said.

"It sure is. But, I am not a waitress. I am a mother and I do not get paid, but in theory I am rewarded. I help you when you cannot do things for yourself. And I teach you how to do things for yourself. And-see if you can listen extra careful now-I help you to understand that sometimes things don't happen the way we like and we just learn to live with that."

"What?"

"That was a lot, wasn't it. Here's another way to say it: Mommies don't like to take orders, but they do like for you to be happy. Sometimes you can't have your juice in a Star Wars cup and that's disappointing, but it will all be okay. Okay?" We are really learning something here, I thought!

Garrett considered what I had said. "Okay. How 'bout I have my juice in a Spiderman cup then?"

I had to at least give him credit for being flexible, but I realized that all he heard was the bit about not getting your juice in a Star Wars cup. It's a start.

That night I decided to enjoy a glass of wine. I chose a varietal that my tired palate seemed to be craving. Something red, maybe from Chili, something fruity and light on the tannins. I considered my mood and selected a wine glass. Did I want something elegant with a long stem and a big bowl (Better to fill you with, my dear)? Was I in a swirling mood? No. Something casual and low maintenance, easily put in the dishwasher? Yes! I chose the Italian tumbler style like the one my grandfather used to drink out of after a long day of drying fruit in the yard or working on blueprints. He used to pour red table wine over peaches and let them soak up the flavors of the wine. After the wine was patiently drained from the glass, he savored the peaches. I didn't have peaches, but I've learned to be flexible. The memory of my grandfather was just as pleasing.

While preparing one simple glass of wine, I made at least four or five choices, each of them with the purpose of maximizing my pleasure and meeting my need. It is such a privilege to be your own waitress-to fill your own order. And in choosing and preparing my beverage, I knew that there is little difference between myself and a limbic system driven two year old, or a Star Wars loving 5 year old.

Pumpkin Follow Up

We took the kids to two pumpkin patches today to pick out some more pumpkins. This time they each came home with their own loot. It was a very warm day, but there was just enough Fall in the air to make for a festive excursion. In the first picture Garrett is standing in front of a selection of mini pumpkins. I wonder if Mary can get all of those in her bed? In the second picture, the kids are busy choosing their pumpkins. In the last picture, I thought maybe it would be nice if I was in a picture. Chris waited for just the right moment to snap the shot. Guess what moment that was?

The Great Pumpkin

Yesterday Garrett went to Curtis Apple Orchard for a class field trip. The kids take a tour of the orchard, learn how bees pollinate plants, pick out a pumpkin, and drink apple juice out of a little container shaped like an apple. The orchard has a place for the kids to feed goats, pan for gold, and jump 5 feet off a ledge onto a pile of hay.

On the bright side, the kids have a great time, the grown ups get to eat delicious homemade apple fritters and stock up on apple butter, and you get that warm fuzzy feeling that comes with supporting local farmers and getting out into nature.

On the not so bright side, the goats smell, its easy to lose your kid, and I just know that one day I will be the mother of a quadriplegic because Garrett’s neck was snapped by an over zealous hay jumper. Then how will he eat his apples? He could probably blink twice when he finds a pumpkin that he likes. But I digress.

So, Garrett got off the bus with his carefully chosen pumpkin and proudly announced that it belonged to him, as evidenced by the fact that his name was on the bottom of it. Mary was sitting in the stroller—to which she had been sent as punishment for not following the rules in the playground. She has a penchant for choosing to climb on the highest, most dangerous monkey bars just when Garrett’s class is being dismissed, making it impossible for me to help her and greet Garrett.

Mary was aroused out of her catatonic grumpy slump when she saw that pumpkin! You could see a plan forming as her eyes darted back and forth between Garrett, the pumpkin, and her lap. Her little lips were pursed in thought. I said, “Garrett, can Mary hold your pumpkin for the walk home?’

“Okay,” he said, somewhat cautiously “But, Mary that’s my pumpkin ‘cause I got it on that fieldtrip, and it has my name on it on the bottom. Do you want to see?”

She just glared and squeezed her prize.

“Garrett,” I assured him, “Mary knows that the pumpkin is yours. Don’t you Mary?”

More glaring.

“Mommy, I don’t think she knows it has my name on it.”

“I’ll be sure and point it out, Garrett.”

Garrett went to Isabela’s house to play after school and Mary held on tight to the pumpkin all the way home. I released her from her stroller and she bounced out with renewed energy, still clinging to the fruit with zeal. “I have Garrett’s pumpkin. It’s my pumpkin!”

“Mary, that is Garrett’s pumpkin. You understand? Garrett brought it home from school. You can hold it until he wants it back.”

For the rest of the afternoon Mary toted the pumpkin around wherever she went. The pumpkin had a snack with her. The pumpkin played computer games with her. Then Garrett came home and the pumpkin conveniently disappeared. I later discovered it, hidden in her bed. She went to sleep that night with her favorite cat, her favorite blanket, and a pumpkin the size of her head next to her own head. Garrett hasn’t asked about it yet. He isn’t possessive enough to care (although at this very minute, he is crying because Mary is licking his ice cream bowl).

I wrote this little poem to capture Mary’s attitude about her rights to the Great Pumpkin.

The Night of the Great Pumpkin

Now I lay me down to sleep
Garrett’s pumpkin I will keep
I dare a soul to try to take
This borrowed loot before I wake

From the patch my brother chose it
Brought it home and thinks he owns it
But I knew at my first sight
That squash would lie with me tonight!

On the bottom there are some letters
I’m only three, I don’t know better
Garrett says they spell his name
I can’t read yet, what a shame.

Good night mommy, good night brother
This pumpkin’s mine, go find another
If I don’t see it here at morning
Just know you’ve all been given warning.

Making a Point

About six weeks ago, Garrett and I were in Lowe's looking for a few household items. I was unable to find something and decided to ask the nice man in the paint department if he could help me. As I described what I was looking for, I noticed that Garrett was looking at the clerk, deep in thought. Suddenly, like one of those hunting dogs that sticks his nose, knee, and tail straight out to tell the hunter's what he's found, Garrett pointed to the clerk and said, "Mommy! That man has no hair!"

It was true, the man was bald. My eyes widened in embarrassment and I said, "That's right Garrett, and probably you won't either one day." The clerk tried to ease the awkward situation and said, "Yeah buddy, I get some hair, but I think it's best just to shave it off." Then he turned to me and said, "You'll find that item on the end of isle 15. I'll take you there." Garrett continued to glare and worry about the future of his own head.

When we got outside, I said, "Garrett, I know we haven't really talked about this before, but it is really not nice to point to somebody and say something about their body."

"But, mommy, he had no hair. I wanted you to see it."

"Yes, I know, but the thing is that you don't know how he feels about not having hair. So if you point to him and say 'he has no hair' then that might make him feel bad." It was a harder concept to explain than I thought it would be. I had to teach Garrett how to take the perspective of the other person. "You wouldn't want someone to point to you and say, 'look at that', right?"

"Oh. Okay," he said.

"Now, from now on, if you see somebody that has something special or unusual, you can tell me when we're alone. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm sorry." He started to cry.

I said, "Oh hey, honey, don't cry. I know you didn't know that you were doing something that wasn't nice. Let's just try to not do it again. Okay? Now we're going to wait to talk to each other when we're alone." I was silently grateful that he didn't point out something worse, like a maimed child or something.

A few weeks later, we were at the ice cream social in the cafeteria at Garrett's school. Everyone got in line for their ice cream, loaded it up with toppings, and then found a seat at one of the long tables. Nothing brings people together like ice cream, so the tables were crowded. Garrett and I found a seat, and soon Isabela joined us. Garrett was oblivious to anything going on around us because his sole mission was to get to the bottom of that ice cream, and then suck all the remaining contents out of the bowl.

When Garrett finished, he looked around with a sense of satisfaction and gave his tummy the kind of pat that would make you think of Winnie the Pooh with an empty honey pot. He stood up and looked around for the first time, probably wondering what he should do now. Then he spotted the man sitting directly across from us, who had a six inch birth mark, or burn scar on the right side of his face. I'm sure you know what's coming. Out went the arm, with the sharply pointed finger. The eyes widened, the mouth fell open, and he said, "MOMMY, LOOK!"

Like an eagle, I swooped in and thrust Garrett's arm to his side, put my lips directly to his ear and said, in the strongest of whispers, "Don't ever do that again. Do not point at people like that!" It was painfully obvious that the man understood what was going on, but took on that distant stare and pretended to be oblivious.

Garrett is a sensitive creature and immediately started to cry. Little tears started making their way through dried valleys of chocolate sauce and ice cream. Isabela said, "What's wrong with Garrett?"

I pulled both of them to the side of the room, away from the man. I tried to soothe Garrett, who was probably thinking that he was the worst person on the planet. I said, "Garrett, honey, don't cry. I think you forgot not to point. Remember what we said about pointing? Remember that we said we shouldn't talk about people like that?"

Isabela said, "That man had something on his face."

I said, "Yes, but he doesn't need us to tell him that. What if you and Garrett had a big purple spot on your nose and all your friends at school pointed at it and said, 'you have a big spot on your nose!'?"

Garrett started to cry harder, imagining the curse of the purple spot. Isabela said, "My mommy says that if you see something that you don't understand or maybe if somebody is different than you, you shouldn't point. That's not a nice thing to do." She shrugged her shoulders and put her hands up in emphasis. "What should we do instead of pointing? Well, we can wait to ask our mommies and daddies about what we saw. Many times a person has a feature that they can't help and it isn't nice to point to it, but we can ask....."

"That's right, Isabela. Now Garrett, let's calm down because we're supposed to be here, eating ice cream and having fun, right?"

Garrett took deep breaths and sniffed with a G force of 5. "I'm sorry."

"I know. And it's okay and now we're going to move on."

Isabela found another opportunity to share her mother's wisdom. "My mommy says 'okay, we got upset and we learned a lesson and now we're going to move on! We just take a moment for our feelings and then we move on.'"

"That's right, Isabela. We should all move on." At least somebody is listening to their mother.

So a few more weeks passed, with no pointing at innocents and announcing imperfections, and we were all happy. Then, we passed a pirate on the way home from school. I mean, what would you do if you saw a pirate?

What we actually saw was a very tan, rugged college student with scruffy hair and an eye patch. This was not lost on Garrett: "Mommy, LOOK! A pirate!"

"Garrett! What did I say about pointing?" I felt so defeated.

The man saw my angst and said, "Ahoy there, matey!" I smiled at him gratefully. Garrett did not say 'Ahoy' back because he had stopped in his tracks to hang his head in shame. He whimpered, "But, mommy, he is a pirate."

"Yes, I guess he is." I had to agree.

As if it isn't enough for one small boy to see 3 strange things in the span of a few weeks (although I don't know why baldness should surprise him), Garrett got yet another opportunity to nail down this pointing thing. And I hope after I tell you about it, you will appreciate how far he has come with this particular problem.

Once again, we were walking home from school. There are so many children in our neighborhood that walk to school. Every day there is a parent parade at 3:00. You usually see the same people picking up their kids, but every once in a while you see someone new. Like, on this day. On this day, a lovely little girl in our neighborhood was accompanied by her grandfather. It was a warm, almost spring-like day, and none of us were wearing jackets. And one of us went even farther than that. Grandpa opted not to wear socks with his loafers, and,as a bonus, he opted to wear his button-down shirt unbuttoned. And I don't mean in the casual way that one unbuttons one's shirt to reveal a t-shirt. Grandpa's shirt was unbuttoned, shirt tails flapping, sockless feet squeaking in his shoes. He reminded me of a flag bearer with a kazoo. Of course, all of our eyes were drawn immediately to grandpa's bare chest. Think of your grandpa. Think of his bare chest. It's not really something you want to gaze at.

Now, imagine Garrett and his wide eyes, glancing back over his shoulder every 2 seconds to be sure that he really sees a half-naked grandpa. Once he was sure, he sprinted 10 feet to be at my side, and said at the top of his precious lungs, "Mommy! That man does not have his shirt on right and I did not point!"

"Good for you, Garrett. Let's work on your bugle voice."

Seriously, a bugle would be less conspicuous.

A week later he saw a jogger and said again, this time more quietly, "Mommy that man is not wearing a shirt and I did not point." We are making so much progress.

What I Learned In Kindergarten

Garrett has finished his first week of Kindergarten. Every morning Garrett puts on his clothes, makes himself presentable, has a little breakfast, and heads out the door with his daddy. Chris and Garrett meet Isabela and her family along the way and join the masses of parents who are all filing toward the school. Garrett and Isabela go into the school together, but they attend different classes. Sometimes they share their lunch period and a recess, but there seems to be no predictable way of knowing how much they will see of each other at school. Isabela's mom and Mary and I go to pick up the kids after school and then we try to figure out what happened in the school day. Our interrogation goes something like this:

Question: How was your day at school?
Isabela: Great! I saw Garrett at lunch and I read a book to my class.
Garrett: Um... fine.

Question: Did you eat all of your lunch? (Mother of child starts to rummage through lunch box to determine what was eaten.)
Isabela: Well, I didn't eat all of my lunch. I ate one apple slice and only the white part of my hard boiled egg. And some of my milk.
Garrett: Yes.

Question: What exactly did you do at school today? Did anything special happen?
Isabela: Today we had music and I love the music teacher. The girls in my class were respectful to the teacher, but the boys had problems. Also, we learned about Jack and Jill. Did you know that a "crown" can mean more than a crown, such as a king's crown? A crown can also refer to an area of the head. Right here! (points to head). And did you know that in the nursery rhyme, "Jack and Jill" that when Jack falls down and breaks his crown, he does not actually break a crown like a king's crown, but he breaks his head!

While I am absorbing the morbid details of this story, Garrett proceeds to answer the above question.
Garrett: Um. I drew a picture of myself. And I lay down on my towel and I wasn't scared and there was some music and I didn't have a towel with characters on it, I just have a purple towel and that room was all dark.

Question: Did you use the bathroom?
Isabela: No.
Garrett: No. Um, mommy, did you know that if you have to go to the potty, you don't have to do like this (Garrett proceeds to grab his crotch and jump up and down with is hand in the air). You can just say, "Excuse me, I need to use the potty."

About this time the conversation circles back around to lunch with questions like, "Why didn't you eat your carrots? Did you not eat them because you were full, or because you don't like them? Or because you didn't have time? Why didn't you eat your chicken dinosaurs?

Garrett and Isabela: I WANT A CHICKEN DINOSAUR!
Mary: I want shicken dine-saur too!

We proceed to empty the lunches and pass out leftovers. Eventually we make it home and Isabela and Garrett beg to play with each other until dinner time.

Now, let's get back to this very educational issue of Jack and Jill! I'm aware that learning about rhymes are an important part of learning how to read. Got that. And I very much value learning about the multiple meanings of words. Love words! Love multiple meanings. But, is it really necessary to explain that Jack's head is busted open? I did a little research on this pleasant nursery rhyme. Turns out that Jack's head is not just busted open, it has been CUT OFF! Yes, friends, the innocent thirsty Jack that we all know and love, did not just go up the hill for a pail of water. He is purported to be Louis XVI of France, who was beheaded (lost his crown) and Jill is purported to be Marie Antoinette, who was beheaded after Louis (came tumbling after). No wonder nobody ate their lunch.

The Great Frousin Visit of '08

When Garrett was born, I considered my close friends to be like aunts to him. I called them "fraunts." Soon, some of the fraunts started having kids of their own, which yielded "frousins!" Our little friend family is very special to us, particularly since Garrett and Mary don't have any actual first cousins. Our frousins are our age mates and it is a priority for us to try to see them once a year. This year, Fraunt Emily and Fraunt Anna courageously drove from the DC area all the way to Urbana! They packed the frousins in the car like little sardines. In total we had 8 kids in the house, all under the age of 6 (Garrett, 5.5; Aidan, 5; Connor, almost 4; Ella, 3.5; Mary, almost 3; Kerrigan, 2.5; Charlotte, almost 1; and Mackenna, 9 months.) Pretty much every six months after Garrett was born, one of us had a baby! Wow.

Each family had their own room in my house, although eventually we had to move the babies to their own room (big brothers and sisters are compelled to touch their baby sisters). Then we had a family in each room, a baby in the entryway, and another baby in the library. One time I had to make a phone call at night and I went out to the car so that I wouldn't disturb anyone. Chris moved to another house for the week. He came home around dinner time to touch base. It took about 30 seconds for him to get that deer-in-the-headlights look and announce his departure. We fraunts thought things went remarkably well! All the kids sat for their meals and ate a good portion of their food. That's a big deal when there are so many distractions around. Probably the craziest time was bath time. I have some great video footage of that. Imagine 3 boys in the tub, 2 girls in towels, Mary on the toilet, and babies crawling around the floor--in a single bathroom. Anna and Emily were the masters of the bath, rotating kids in and out, passing diapers overhead, and flinging jammies on damp bodies in a single swoosh over the head. Very impressive. It should be an Olympic sport, I think.

We had fun, busy days playing in costumes, playing pirates, pretending to be spacemen (I found two boys in my closet one day; they told me it was their rocket ship), doing art projects, blowing bubbles, having three-wheel races in the driveway, going to the indoor playground, munching on popsicles, making chalk outlines of our bodies, and watching movies. At the end of the day we fraunts enjoyed a well-earned refreshment and went to bed early in order to brace ourselves for the next day. Although we didn't get much time to do grown-up friend stuff, I was so impressed with how well we worked as a team to take care of the kids and make sure that they had a good, memorable visit. Good job mommies!

Garrett's First Day of Kindergarten

Garrett's first day of Kindergarten started with breakfast with friends and family. Our friends Anna and Emily and their 6 kids were visiting us from Virginia! They all had waffles and juice and waved bye to Garrett as he headed out for his first day of school. Garrett was cool as a cucumber, but I was a bit scattered and nervous. As we were walking out the door, Garrett said, "Wait mommy! Don't I need my lunch?" I had loaded the poor kid with 5 pounds of school supplies, a towel for his rest period, and a sack of goldfish crackers to share with is class, but had completely forgot his lunch. Also, my camera wasn't working properly so I had to borrow Anna's to take a picture of our first journey to school.

We had a pleasant 10 minute walk. The only time I felt emotional was when we walked by Isabela's house. Isabela had her first day on Friday, but she was very aware that Garrett was starting on Thursday and watched for him out her window. Garrett waved to her enthusiastically and said, "Hi Isabewa! I go to school now!" Her support of him and his happiness to see her was a near tear-jerker.

Chris did a great job of talking to Garrett about his day on the way to school. He told him that he would have two teachers and that he would eat his lunch in a bigger room with the other kids. He explained that he should listen to his teacher and not play fighting games. He also told him that he would make lots of new friends and he practiced saying, "Hello, my name is Garrett. Would you like to play with me?"

When we got to school, I couldn't remember if we were supposed to wait outside in the designated triangle, or if we were supposed to take the kids inside. They had said something about doing it differently on the first day. Another mommy decided that we should just try to go inside. We were quickly rerouted by the school secretary. I had the distinct feeling that I was going to be sent to the principals office. Funny how you never shake that feeling. Finally the bell rang and all the kids filed into the building. We waited until everyone was in and then went in ourselves. We introduced Garrett to his teachers and took some pictures. The teachers then cued us to leave by saying, "Ok, boys and girls. Let's all wave bye bye to mom and dad." There was a chorus of goodbye's and then we left, snapping pictures as Garrett faded from view.

After school, Anna and the three girls (Kerrigan, Ella, and Mary) met Garrett on the playground. He was very happy to see us. I said, "Hey Garrett, how was your big day." He said, "Oh fine. Mommy, when they turned those lights out and it was dark and I had a dream that Connor and Aidan got on a plane and I said bye to them and I was sad to see them go home and that's what happened when the teacher made the room dark and I wanted to go home." I said, "Oh, you mean during your rest time? You didn't like the way the room looked." He said, "No I thought it was dark and I had a bad dream." I asked him if he used his towel. He said, "No, cause I forgot it. I didn't have a towel." Man, I sent the towel and he didn't even use it. I made a mental note to email the teacher and say, "What gives? I sent the towel!?" Later I noticed the towel in his backpack. What's up with this towel? Will I have to send it back and forth everyday? I definitely need some clarification on the towel. So then I asked Garrrett, "How was the rest of the day? What did you do first." He said, "Well, first I go into that room and we had a group time. We read a book about special people, like my teacher uses a chair machine. Then we made a picture about being special." I said, "Oh, I see. You're teacher told you that she uses a special chair and then you had to think of ways that you were special. What did you draw?" He said, "I drew myself." I said, "But what did you draw that showed that you are special." He said, "I don't know, mommy. I just draw myself like I was told." Then I asked him, "How was your lunch?" He said, "It was good." I asked, "Did you eat it all?" He said, "Well, no I just ate some of it and then I played." I said, "Oh, well we'll have to see what's still in your lunch box." Then he said, "Also mommy, I had to pee and I thought about it and I thought I think I'll just wait until I get home." I explained that he could ask the teacher about using the bathroom. He said, "Yeah, but I thought I should go at home." Hm.. We'll have to work on that.

When we arrived home we had juice and cookies with all of our visiting friends. Garrett seemed like such a big kid all of a sudden. I told Garrett that I needed a helper to hand out the juice boxes. He said, "Ok mommy, I'll take off the straws and put them in the juice box for all the little kids." Then he turned to the kids and said, "Ok, I gonna help you. I gonna put in those straws and then I'm gonna give you a juice. Okay kids?" It was so cute.

Occasionally throughout the day Mary would ask, "Where's my Garrett?" She's surprised not to see him in the car when I pick her up from her preschool. She will notice that he's not in the house. I think she will start to anticipate our walk to the school and be happy to see him. I have to remember that this is a big transition for her as well. I missed Garrett too. Even with the commotion of having 7 kids in my house that day, Garrett's absence was felt. It was a big "First Day" for all of us.

Paul's Visit and A Post Visit Photo

Garrett and Mary recently had a great visit with their godfather, Paul. In fact, we were having so much fun, we forgot to take a picture! Rats! Here's a picture I made so that I can pretend that I remembered.

During his visit Paul had the opportunity to watch Garrett in his swimming class. He was impressed with Garrett's progress and encouraged Garrett to listen to his swim coach. That means you have to keep your head above the water, Garrett! Paul also helped me and Mary assemble the train set and make a marble shoot. It would have been nice to have a picture of that. We went to the park and played in the water-play water fountains and had some custard cup ice cream. Paul saw how messy kids are and how great it is to understand the properties of proper spoon handling. For example, one should not hold one's spoon with the bowl of the spoon in the air so that all the ice cream can drip down your spoon, all over your hands, clothes, and the floor. Paul also accompanied us on a trip to the hair cutting shop, where Mary got her first real haircut. We wanted to make sure that Paul got the full tour of our family affairs, so he also was available for Mary's eventful trip to the potty in which she both peed and pooped and got her "poop candy" reward. Yes, Paul has traveled all around the world, but I'm sure this was his most educational stop. I wonder why we forgot the camera? Paul is now an expert at getting kids in and out of the car, and he knows how to help Mary learn to say please and thank you. It goes something like this:

Mary (big whine): Mommy!! I want apple juice!
Caroline: Oh, you do? Can you think of a nicer way to ask for apple juice?
Mary: I want apple juice!
Caroline: Can you say, "Mommy, may I have some apple juice please?"
Mary: Yes!
Caroline: No, you don't say "Yes, I want juice." You ask for the juice the way I'm saying it. Say, "Mommy, can I have some apple juice please?"
Mary: YES!
Caroline: Paul, can you say, "I'd like some apple juice please, Mommy."
Paul: I'd like some apple juice please, mommy.
Caroline: OH! Good asking Paul. Mary, now you say it like Paul said it.
Mary: Please I have some apple juice mommy?
Caroline: Of course! Thank you for asking so nicely.

Another stop Paul made on the family tour was to learn the art of preparing a dinner party whilst watching Garrett and Mary. When one is cooking in the kitchen with one's back to the goings on of small children, one must poke one's head around every once in a while and make sure that the little turkeys aren't up to no good. Frequent peeks at Garrett reveal that there is no risk of Garrett causing a problem or injuring himself. Peeks at Mary remind one of how important it is to keep peeking. Unfortunately what usually happens is that there is a period of high activity in the kitchen and one forgets about the peeking procedure. By the time one remembers, it is too late. In this particular instance Paul and I were preparing dinner for 5. We had things on the grill, two versions of main dishes on the stove (one vegetarian and one delicious), as well as a golden beet salad with toasted walnuts and goat cheese in the works. While we were busily washing, chopping, stirring, marinating, grilling, and so forth, Mary was running back and forth talking about pools of water. I said, "What Mary? You want to go to the pool?" She said, "Yes. Pool of water. I wash the turtle." I thought she must be talking about the dinosaur slide at the indoor pool, which looks like a turtle. I said, "It's not Mary's turn to go to the pool." She left the room, talking about pools and water and turtles. After a few minutes I finished chopping something and saw a small turtle on the floor. The turtle was surrounded by a large towel. In one of those flashes of insight, I realized that Mary had been saying she washed her own turtle, which meant that she had been playing in the sink in the bathroom, which also meant that she may not have turned off the water. I rushed to the bathroom and to my horror (and T minus 45 on people coming over), I found the sink overflowing and 1.5 inches of water on my bathroom floor. After a series of "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!'s," Paul came rushing to see what was the matter. He said, "Oh wow. What can I do? Where can I get towels?" I said, "Keep cooking." The show must go on. "I'll take care of this." Before I touched a drop, I grabbed Mary, who was hiding under pillows on the couch, and said, "Mary look! This is bad. This is very bad. Bad Mary! I think you should go to your room and think about this bad water. I am not happy with you." She went up the stairs with her tail between her legs and didn't come out until I returned for her apology. So, something tells me that this might have been a new experience for Paul, although I think it did deepen his already well-developed appreciation for wine. Kids make wine taste better. And if I were telling the story of our entire evening, that would be a good lead in to the next paragraph. Alas, I am not. We're discussing Paul's visit with Miss Moo and Mr. Mo.

After 3 and half days Paul had to say goodbye to us. Garrett and Mary were quite sad. Mommy was very sad too. Mary keeps talking about how she's going to see Paul next week. She won't see him next week, but she will see some other exciting visitors next week. They will look forward to Paul's next visit. They always remember the fun things that they do with him and point out his pictures around the house. We hope we didn't scare him away. Maybe he'll come back when Mary is in boarding school. Whenever he comes, we'll be sure to take a picture.

Check Ups

Today Garrett and Mary had their yearly check ups. Garrett had to have 3 separate shots and he took 'em like a man! I was so proud of him! Unfortunately, Mary was acting like an orangutan, bouncing around the office, talking non-stop, and pretending that she was the doctor. When it came time to talk about Mary's growth, the doctor said, "So, how is Mary? Clearly there's no problem with her language development!" No, definitely no problem there, unless you consider the inability to stop talking a problem.

Today Mary insisted that she go outside to visit with the neighbors cat. I was taking a phone call, so I took the phone outside and instructed her to stay close to me (Heaven forbid I should have to hang up the phone and follow her and the cat on an endless journey). Of course, she started to move out of my sight toward the neighbors house. I said, "Mary, come back here. TOO FAR! I can't see you." Holding up one finger, she said, "I be back in a minute mom!" Oh, well, since you put it that way. Right. I told her to come back THIS INSTANT! She came back and put her stuffed kitty in the center of the driveway to keep watch over things. Only then would she follow me back inside. She is SO willful!

Garrett's big moment of the day was jamming his foot in the door at the indoor pool. In case I haven't told you, Garrett is the loudest crier on the planet. So imagine that you just jammed your foot under a heavy door and you have crumpled to the ground with screams of pain, are rocking back and forth to self-soothe, and your sensitive mother is saying, "Okay, okay, it will be okay! But, honey, please cry a little quieter. You're scaring small children." I'm not totally heartless. I did cross forbidden swim staff territory to procure a bandaid and then carried his wet, damaged, 50-pound body to the car. Once we were in the car and the crying had stopped (but not the bleeding), I said, "Now, Garrett, when we get home, I'll help you out of your wet clothes, and then I want you to go straight to the computer and play Lego Star Wars. You must stay off of your foot." He said, "Okay, mommy. I think that's a good idea." You bet.

My glass of wine tasted mighty good this evening. Mighty good.

New Blog Access

Hi, everyone. Well for the first time ever I had a suspicious comment on my blog. You know, I am generally a trusting person, but when it comes to my kids I am super cautious. I was alerted to the fact that I had a suspicious stranger commenting on the blog... not a friend-of-a-friend type, but a weirdo-type, so now I will need to make the blog an invite-only thing. This is sad because I like the idea of my friends sharing our stories with their friends. If you have a friend who would like access to the blog (I know some of you have a link to the blog from your own blog), then please send along their address. I would be happy to have many readers who are just normal, happy, well-intentioned people reading our blog. For example, my sister works with a lot of great people who check up on Mr. Mo and Miss Moo from time to time. Just send me their addresses and I'll invite them to view the blog. Sorry for the censorship. I truly wish it were not necessary.

Star Wars and Dinosaurs!

Mary and Garrett love to wear hats and costumes. They put on their clever disguises and they are transformed! Here Mary is a Dinosaur (Garretts previous Halloween costume) and Garrett is a Storm Trooper (Thanks, Pop!).

Oh To Walk in Garrett's Shoes

One day last Spring we were coming home from a tasty Mexican dinner. It was a grand time because the kids sat in the booth and ate their tacos and didn't throw sugar packets all over the place or spill water in my lap. We had a good time. Chris and I had just finished making the decision to send Garrett to the public kindergarten in our neighborhood (after an agonizing round of visits to other area schools) and we were feeling great about it.

Chris said, "Garrett, we're going to drive by your new school on the way home!"
"Oh! Cool!" Garrett said.
"I like your new school Garrett! It looks like so much fun!"
"Oh, I will like to go to that school."
"Yes," Chris sighed, thinking about the joys of being 5 and going to a super-fun, award-winning school, "It sure would be nice to walk around in your shoes."
Garrett paused. He said, "You want to walk in my shoes?"
"Oh yes! 'Cause your school is really great."
"Hm," thought Garrett, "You mean my Spiderman shoes? Daddy, I think they're too small for you!"

In order to walk in Garrett's shoes, you have to wear a boy's size 12. Sorry, Chris.

We Love You, Yellow Bus!

Garrett started taking the bus to his new "Washington" pre-school on March 24. For two weeks prior I told everyone who would listen that Garrett would be getting on the bus. At first I told the school that I would take Garrett to school and pick him up myself. They reminded me that the bus was free and he was entitled to take it. I thought, "Like hell I'm going to watch my son get on a bus with a stranger and drive away from me faster than I can run!" But then, I started to think things through. Gosh, it sure would save a lot of time if Garrett took the bus. If Mary was napping, I wouldn't have to wake her up to go get Garrett. That would be nice. The bus comes right to our front door, so it's not like I'd have to worry about getting to the bus stop on time. I'd be right there. Garrett might enjoy the independence. Hmm.... I called the school back and said, "Sign us up for the bus." But, I was anxious. What would he really think about his mother putting him on a bus and saying, "Goodbye!" He would have no idea where he was going and he wouldn't know anyone. I felt cruel. All of you with little babies in your arms, try to imagine putting that infant on a bus and waving goodbye! That's how I felt. Even if Garrett is 5, he's still my baby. Everyone reassured me that Garrett would love the bus. They said he'd be fine. They told me how lucky I was that I had such a great service available to me. I really tried to feel grateful.

March 24th came. Garrett had his jacket and his backpack. We had talked about the bus. I told him that the bus would take him to school and his new teacher would greet him when he got off the bus. I said, "Their will be other kids on the bus too and you're all going to school to have a good time." He said, "Okay." The big bus pulled up to our house. I had to give Garrett a little shove. I said, "Okay, up you go. There you go." He looked at me with uncertainty. "It's okay, Garrett, " I said, choking back tears. "The driver will take you to school and I'll be right here when you come home." He scuttled up the stairs and with his bravest voice said, "BYE MOMMY!" I clung to Mary. I waved, "BYE GARRETT. LOVE YOU!!! SEE YOU SOON!" I'm telling you that I have not seen motion pictures with this kind of angst and heart wrenching emotion. Even those sappy war movies where you are left to wonder if the soldier will ever come home again can't compare.

I went into the house and cried. I felt lame. Somebody called and, hearing the sadness in my voice, asked, "What's wrong?" I said, "Oh nothing. I just put Garrett on the bus. With a stranger. He has no idea where he's going. He probably thinks I gave him up for adoption. It's an adoption pick up bus. But, I'm sure it's fine. I'm fine. I'm really fine. He'll be back in 3 hours." They were in fact, some of the slowest 3 hours of my life. I was afraid to do anything. I didn't want to get too absorbed in a task and miss the bus. If the bus comes and I'm not there, the bus will leave with my child. Again.

Garrett came home. He was happy. He said, "MOMMY!!!!" He jumped into my arms. Ah, the sweet joy of reunion. He had a great day. He told me about the bus and his new class. I gave him cookies and milk--just like Donna Reed would do if she put her kid on a bus. I hugged him every 15 minutes for the rest of the day. The next day, he said he didn't want to get on the bus. He clung to me for a few seconds and I assured him it was okay and put him on the bus. I had a little lump in my throat, but I didn't cry. I even enjoyed the hours of just having Mary with me. We ran a few errands and got home in time to greet Garrett with his cookies. I marveled at how much I could accomplish with one child to tote around. That evening he had a fever and he stayed home the next day. I began to realize what a gift it was to have him occupied in the afternoon. The following Monday, I eagerly awaited the bus, strapped on the backpack, and sent him to the curb. "See ya later!" I said. He asked, "Mommy, will there be cookies when I come home?" I said, "Yes. Be good at school. Bye bye!" He said, "Okay, see ya and don't let Mary eat my cookies!"

That day Garrett came home from school and I said, "Hey Garrett! How was school?" With the skilled indifference of a teenager he said, "What? Oh, fine. I'll take my cookies upstairs. I'm going to play my game." I said, "How 'bout first you tell me one thing about your day, eat your cookies, and THEN go upstairs? How about that?" He said, "Ok," and slumped in the chair. Boy, it was like he aged 10 years at school that day. Then the teeth pulling began:

I asked, "So what did you do today?"
"I don't know."
"Did you play outside?"
"I can't remember."
"Did you play with friends?"
"Huh? Oh yeah."
"What was your friend's name?"
"I can't remember."
"Did you do some art or make something?"
"I think so. Yeah, I made a pizza."

Oh boy. Eventually Garrett and I learned how to dialog about his day. I learned that he chooses a job when he gets to school. Some days he was "line leader" or "kid counter, " other days he was "snack helper" or "door holder." He was most proud of being line leader. He had a library day and a speech day. He played in the gym or out in the playground. Whatever we discussed it could only last as long as long as it takes to eat two cookies. And whatever was happening at school, Garrett enjoyed it; every day he eagerly watched for his bus.

The picture at the top of this post is of Garrett on his last day of taking the bus. I wanted to cry on that day to. I will miss our bus and our bus routine! Farewell quiet afternoons! Farewell guaranteed happy, tired out 5 year old. Farewell, faithfully prompt bus driver. We love you, Yellow Bus!

Now, it's off to kindergarten in just a few weeks. We live too close to the school to take the bus. Too bad. But it sure will be fun to take our ten minute walks to and from the school. I'm sure when we get to the playground Garrett will take off, barely pausing to look back at me. I'll get a little misty eyed the first day. I'll probably make lots of cookies. And there is no way my precious baby is ever going to walk to school on his own. No way! Not enough cookies in this world for that kind of anxiety!

Goodbye Goldfish, Hello Sunfish

I think I may have blogged about my little Goldfish last summer. Garrett took 3 rounds of swimming lessons last summer and he was a Goldfish every time. In order to pass out of Goldfish, you have to put your head under the water. Garrett was very good at getting everything under the water except the tip of his nose and the pucker of his lips. When I signed him up for round two, I asked the swim director, "Do you think I should sign up Garrett for Sunfish next? I don't know if he'll pass Goldfish." She said, "Sign him up for Sunfish. Everyone passes Goldfish."

Not everyone. This summer I was determined to be the proud mother of a Sunfish! Truly, I only care that Garrett is having a good time, but I could see that he was bored with the other activities. He had to fill a bucket with water, by cupping his hands and throwing water into the bucket. Then, he had to pour the water over his head. He had to kick from the side of the pool and try to make the foam brick by his feet go farther and farther. He had to let the teacher hold him in a float position. Stuff like that. How many times can you do that before you get bored? If he could only put his head in the water, he could dive for rings, search for treasure on the bottom of the pool, start learning strokes. The possibilities are endless!

So, on the first day of Goldfish (Round 4), I spoke to the director again. I said, "Hi. I think we've logged more hours of Goldfish than anyone else. How can we get Garrett to put his head under the water? Sometimes he has trouble processing directions and he might be distracted. It's the only thing I can think of." She said, "Hm... well I would suggest some private lessons. Maybe he would be less distracted." Great! Sign us up.

Garrett LOVES his private lessons. He put his head under the water on the first day! Now he glides into the water like a shark, only occasionally coming up for air. He eats goldfish for lunch! That's my boy! Oh, you can't see him? That's 'cause he's under the water. Well, maybe he's not quite a shark, but he will be a Sunfish!

Rats!

Last Monday Garrett had 3 back to back appointments, which made for some crazy driving around town. Naturally the 2:00 appointment was at the farthest possible point from the 3:00 appointment. And of course the 2:00 appointment ran late and I was leaving for the 3:00 appointment at 3:00! And it was blazing hot. And the kids were dawdling on their way to the car, trying to balance on all the curbs instead of directly moving toward the car. I was a bit flustered. The only way to get from the first location to the next was to go through town with all the stop lights and afternoon traffic. I called ahead to let 3:00 know that we were going to be late, but that we were on our way.

After 15 minutes of stop and go driving, I arrived on my final stretch of long road. I could see two miles of green lights. And then my next light turned yellow. And then red. I said, "OH RATS!" Mary said, "Where?!" I explained, "I got a red light honey and we're late. So I said, 'rats!'" She said, "I don't see them!" Suddenly I realized she thought that I was seeing actual rats and pointing them out. I said, "No, I don't see rats." She said, "But where are they, rats?" I said, "There are no rats." Then I got another red light and instinctively said, "Oh! Rats again!" She said, "Mommy! Where? Where?" How do you explain this to a 2 year old? I decided to explain it to Garrett instead. I said, "Sometimes when you're frustrated or something happens that you don't like, or you make a mistake, you say, "RATS!" Garrett said, "Oh, okay." For the rest of the day Garrett said Rats whenever he could. He had trouble putting on his seatbelt and said, "I think I want to say rats." He dropped food off his fork, looked at me and said, "Rats?" I said, "Yep." Mary is still looking for the rats.

In Case You Were Worried, We're Alive

To give you proof that we are alive and well, here is a recent picture of the kids. Garrett asked me if I could give him some horns, so I made short "pig tails" with his hair and used hair glue to get them to stick up. Naturally, Mary immediately wanted a set of horns of her own. Hers flopped over despite the ample use of glue, so she called hers bunny ears. She wore them for 4 days until I had to cut out the bands. Garrett proudly displayed his horns in all the public places that we visited that day. He approached people and said, "LOOK! I have horns!" Then Mary hopped up beside him and said, "I have bunneeee ears!"

The biggest change in our lives since March is Garrett's entry into the Early Childhood Public Preschool. He is such a big boy now--he rides the bus! Mary loves to watch Garrett get on and off his bus. She gives him a big hug when he gets home. Garrett's first question when he gets off the bus pertains to getting the 411 on what Mary was doing while he was at school. For example, he might say, "Hi Mommy. I'm ready for my cookies. Did Mary play with my Star Wars when I was at school?" If ever I tell him that he can do a particular activity after he gets off the bus, he remembers exactly what I said. He'll say, "Hi Mommy. I'm ready for my cookies. And Mommy! Remember! You said we could play with those water guns after I got off the bus. Can we get them now please!"

We've also had some great visits with family and friends. We went to California in May and went to Disneyland with Pop and GP! More on that in a separate entry. While we were in California, we had great visits with Grandma Lee, Paul and Abbey, Suzy, and Anna's family. When we got back home, we had a very nice, but brief visit with Granddaddy and Grandmama Fraley who drove all the way from South Carolina to see us! Garrett will going to see them in South Carolina soon, but he is going to take the airplane. He can't wait to visit his room and go to the beach.

Mostly, it's life as usual around here. We're waiting for Kindergarten to start. We're trying to keep pace with Mary. We're enjoying the usual activities and routines. Nothing new, everything good!

This Picture is for Matt

I ordered Star Wars cupcakes for Garrett. The cupcakes are decorated with R2D2, c3PO, and Darth Vader. These must be the easiest plastic images that China can produce. But, wouldn't a young boy want to see Luke and Hans Solo? How about a Millenium Falcon? I'm not complaining because I got 30 delicious cupcakes for $11. I'm just saying, a hero is a hero and he deserves to be represented on a cake.

Official Shark Business

This is Mary's favorite hat. She puts the hat on and then proceeds to do Official Shark Business, such as filling the bathroom sink with water and washing all the toothbrushes. OSB also includes acquiring Garrett's toys, removing the pads from my headphones, and relocating most of my shoes. The upside is that she is very happy when conducting OSB; the downside is that she cunning and predatory. I think she prefers her Shark persona to her Spidaham persona. This evening she took a ride with Chris to pick up Thai food wearing the shark hat. The shark cruised into the restaurant and taunted the inhabitants until the order was ready. No one is safe.

Now, what name should we give this creature:

Growing Pains

Last night Garrett and I went through our bedtime routine and then I said goodnight. About 5 minutes later I heard him crying. I went to investigate and found him on his bed holding his leg. He said, "Mommy, my leg hurts."
"Where?" I asked.
He pointed to his knee and clutched it. "It really hurts mommy."
I said, "Oh, you know what, sweetheart, you probably have growing pains. You're just growing up." At this news he started to cry harder.
He said, "I don't want to grow up!"
"Don't you want to be big like daddy?"
"NO!"
I think he thought that he would go to sleep and wake up 6 feet tall. I gave him some pain reliever and a few more kisses. Then he said, "Mommy, I think I better sleep in your bed." Maybe he thought his bed would be too small by morning.

Poor Garrett. I think he will have a lot of growing pains.

Happy 5th Birthday, Garrett!

Garrett turned 5 today. When Garrett is more perceptive about the benefits of having a birthday, he will surely cry out in frustration that his birthday is in January. First of all, It's only 1 month after Christmas. The Christmas loot is still making Garrett's eyes bug out of his head, so the appearance of birthday gifts is like an aftershock of goodness. In fact, I only gave Garrett the gifts he received in the mail today and one gift from his grandparents. We're going to have some friends over for dinner on my birthday this Tuesday, so I'll give him our gifts then.

The second undesirable quality of Garrett's birthday is that it is in the dead of winter and he lives in the Midwest. The good news is that the kids at school experienced a welcomed relief from the winter doldrums as Garrett storm-trooped into class today with his Star Wars cupcakes and party paraphernalia. Yes, a good time was had by all. The bad news is that when we got home, the latest of a series of winter storms kicked in and we now have 6 inches of snow. It's not a big deal, since we were in for the day, but WHAT IF I had planned a birthday party? Nobody would have been able to come. In fact, this is the reason that I have not planned a formal birthday party for Garrett-- you just never know. Last Thursday school was canceled because the wind chill was MINUS 20. Can you just see us sitting at home with 30 frozen Star Wars cupcakes?

Here's how we are handling the situation. If the weather is above 25, we have a birthday moment--we invite a friend over to play an make treats and stick a candle in whatever we make. If school is open, we have a birthday moment--we spend 20 minutes wrapping ourselves in various forms of fabric and then grab the party hats and horns and head out. If the cabin fever is eating away at our brains, we have a birthday moment--we retrieve a birthday gift from the closet and celebrate its novelty. I'm ready to convince Garrett that toothpicks are miniature Tinker Toys. Don't worry, I'll put a bow on them.

I guess we can all be grateful that we have Garrett's birthday to spice up our Annual Midwest January Tundra Event. One thing is for sure: Garrett's birthday will always include surprises. Oh and my birthday is just 5 days away.... wonder what gift mother nature will bestow? Not to worry, I have her outsmarted. I'm making a dinner the day before in case I can't get to the store; I'm inviting our faithful and delightful neighborhood friends over for my birthday celebration because they can just walk here in the event of prohibitive snow; and, hey, since we won't be driving, I'm making birthday cocktails! Cheers!

Make Them Walk the Plank!

This morning before Chris left for work, Garrett, Mary, and Chris were pretending to be pirates. The Scooby Doo Pirate Movie is popular in our house this week, and the kids want to play pirates all the time. Garrett likes to play the captain. This morning he was ordering Chris to make his prisoner walk the plank. I was the prisoner since Mary was first mate. While trying to brush my teeth, I pretended to walk the plank, express fear, and fall to my death. For dramatic effect, I then pretend to be eaten by sharks.

After the gruesome scene was over, Chris announced that he had to go to work. Garrett said, "No daddy, you play pirates with me."
"I have to go to another ship and scrub the deck, Garrett!"
"Can I come with you?" Garrett asked.
"No, I have to go to this ship alone! It's too dangerous."
"Are there bad guys?"
"Yes, lots of bad guys."
"But Daddy, I can help you. I can get them with my sword!"
"Aw, that's sweet of you Garrett, but I have to fight these bad guys on my own. Go enlist your first mate to help you out here."
"Ok, Daddy. I'll see you later."

Happy New Year!

Hey just a year ago, I started the Miss Moo and Mr. Mo blog. This year I will try to make some improvements, such as adding video and more pictures. I know some of you will be saying, "And don't forget to try to write more often!" Sure thing. I'll make a deal with you. For every comment you write, I'll write a new entry! My blog is sadly lacking commentary. And it's not like it's not being read because you all seem to know when I haven't been writing.

What exciting adventures will the new year hold for Moo and Mo? Well, this week Miss Moo is moving to the two's room at school. She is officially not a baby anymore. She is already talking up a storm, so I'm sure we'll start seeing lots of entries about the Life According to Moo. Garrett will start Kindergarten in January. I cannot believe it! It will be really exciting to see him experience a full day school program, but I will miss my little buddy! Hmmm... with all this growing up going on, I think I might have to start bugging Chris for the next little bundle. Don't hold your breath though; Chris is trying to count sheep in his future, not kids!

We hope that all of you have a wonderful year. As usual, we wish (and I pray) for you to have great times and even greater health. Cin cin, as the Italians say!

The Happy Ending

That last post (Here You Go, Mommy) was supposed to have a Part Two. It was to be the part where I get over myself and tell you that being home with Mary and Garrett are worth all the gray hairs and long days. That is true, but now I've lost the steam for telling the story. I will tell you the little moment that I experienced that brought me out of my funk. That first week of December was terrible, but it seemed so much more terrible because of the weather. The absolutely great thing that happened that week melted all the ice in my little world! I took Garrett to his OT appointment and played with Mary in the playroom adjacent to Garrett's room. Mary loves to play in there and we had a very nice time exploring all the toys. I love how she is naming all of her shapes and pretending to count. She is so pleased with herself. When I went next door to get Garrett when the hour was up, Garrett presented me with the best gift in the world. It was a paper reindeer. He made it by cutting out a shape that resembles a reindeer head; tracing his hands on paper and then cutting out those shapes; pasting the "hands" on the head to make antlers; drawing little circles for eyes; and then writing every letter of his name on it! He wrote his full name for the very first time!!! I couldn't believe how far he has come with his occupational therapy. When we started he could not use scissors, could not hold a pencil or crayon, and do anything except make hash marks on the paper. Now he can cut a complicated pattern and write all his letters. He was so proud! Since then he's been saying, "Mommy, I can spell my name. Look. G A R R E T T!" He also sings the alphabet like this: a (For Garrett!), b, c, d, e (for Garrett!), f, g, (for Garrett!), h, i, j, k, l, m, n, o, p. Q, r (for Garrett!), s, t (for Garrett!), u, v, w, x, y, z! It's partly a song, and partly a cheer. Mary has been singing a little song of her own. You may recognize it as Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star. It goes something like this:

(sung like a drunken sailor:)
Tweentle STAR!
Wonder what are...
Up high....
Spiderham!
In the sky!
Tweentle star....
Mommy.

It's a very catchy tune. You may find yourself singing it when you least expect it.