Tonight I was sitting in Isaac's room as he was trying to fall asleep. For the most part he was lying peacefully and talking to himself, but after about 15 minutes he grew conscious of the fact that he wasn't yet asleep.
"I'm having a hard time sleeping," he said. "I need help!"
This announcement can signal the beginning of trouble. Often when Isaac has trouble falling asleep he begins to make requests for various items he believes will help him, such as a cup of milk or his father, but all they do is distract him and delay the process of falling asleep.
So instead I decided to provide reassurance. "You're doing a great job," I said. "It just takes time to fall asleep. All you need to do is lie there and wait. You are doing just fine."
Apparently my reassurances worked, because a little while later I heard him say quietly to himself, "I am doing a very, very good job falling asleep."
And he was right!
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Cradle to grave
"Am I going to be a baby again?"
Isaac has asked me this a few times recently. It's hard to tell if he's relieved or disappointed when I tell him he will never be a baby again. I think he's somewhat disappointed, even though I tell him he can do many exciting things that babies can't do.
He is fascinated with being a baby. Many times a day he snuggles up to me and announces "Mama still has a little baby." Then he likes me to hold him like I was cradling an infant. And how little is he pretending to be? Yesterday he used his friend's two-month-old brother as a point of comparison and said, "I'm smallest than baby Wilder." (He meant "smaller," of course.)
I always tell him that he is only going to get bigger and bigger, older and older, until eventually he will be a man. Today, however, he had another question for me: "What happens after you're a man?"
I told him that after he's a man for a long time, he'll become an old man. Luckily he didn't ask what comes after that. Anyone else want to handle that question?
Isaac has asked me this a few times recently. It's hard to tell if he's relieved or disappointed when I tell him he will never be a baby again. I think he's somewhat disappointed, even though I tell him he can do many exciting things that babies can't do.
He is fascinated with being a baby. Many times a day he snuggles up to me and announces "Mama still has a little baby." Then he likes me to hold him like I was cradling an infant. And how little is he pretending to be? Yesterday he used his friend's two-month-old brother as a point of comparison and said, "I'm smallest than baby Wilder." (He meant "smaller," of course.)
I always tell him that he is only going to get bigger and bigger, older and older, until eventually he will be a man. Today, however, he had another question for me: "What happens after you're a man?"
I told him that after he's a man for a long time, he'll become an old man. Luckily he didn't ask what comes after that. Anyone else want to handle that question?
Cradle to grave II
He must have been thinking about my answer from last night, because he asked me this morning: "What happens after I'm an old man?"
I said cheerily, "Then you're all grown up! Then you can play golf, or drive a tractor, just like Grandpa and Opa! And you'll be a man for a long, long time."
"And then I'll be dead," Isaac said.
I said cheerily, "Then you're all grown up! Then you can play golf, or drive a tractor, just like Grandpa and Opa! And you'll be a man for a long, long time."
"And then I'll be dead," Isaac said.
Breakthrough
Today Craig and Isaac did what they always do on the day that I work -- they went to Whole Foods. They have a nice routine together. Before they begin to shop, they start out at the cafe. They each select a pastry, and Craig gets a cup of tea while Isaac gets a cup of milk, and they sit at a little table and eat together.
Then they proceed to do the week's grocery shopping. But today while they were were in the produce section, something different happened. Isaac turned to Craig and said, "I need to poop."
So they went to the bathroom, and Isaac peed in the toilet.
Yes, Isaac was once again wearing his new underpants. I mentioned about a week ago that he had worn underpants to the park with me, and that he had successfully used the toilet there. (In fact, he used the toilet there two times.) That was his first time using a public toilet, although it was on my suggestion, made over his protests that he didn't need to pee.
Nor was today was not the first time he has successfully noticed that he needed to pee. Over the past week, sometimes while he's at home he will announce that he needs to poop (although he just needs to pee, so I guess he mixes up those signals). But it doesn't happen that often yet, and it seldom happens in the middle of a lot of activity, so I still think today's announcement was a breakthrough.
Although he did pee a little in his underpants later on, once they had gotten back home.
Then they proceed to do the week's grocery shopping. But today while they were were in the produce section, something different happened. Isaac turned to Craig and said, "I need to poop."
So they went to the bathroom, and Isaac peed in the toilet.
Yes, Isaac was once again wearing his new underpants. I mentioned about a week ago that he had worn underpants to the park with me, and that he had successfully used the toilet there. (In fact, he used the toilet there two times.) That was his first time using a public toilet, although it was on my suggestion, made over his protests that he didn't need to pee.
Nor was today was not the first time he has successfully noticed that he needed to pee. Over the past week, sometimes while he's at home he will announce that he needs to poop (although he just needs to pee, so I guess he mixes up those signals). But it doesn't happen that often yet, and it seldom happens in the middle of a lot of activity, so I still think today's announcement was a breakthrough.
Although he did pee a little in his underpants later on, once they had gotten back home.
Quotable
Last night Isaac had some nightmares, so when he woke up slightly after midnight, he ended up sleeping in the big bed with me and Craig. Even then he kept crying out for me in his sleep.
But when we woke up together at 7:30 a.m., he was very cheerful. The first thing he said was, "We woke up in the morning!"
Then he looked out the window, and he said, "Now it's tomorrow!"
- - - - -
Yesterday afternoon I told Craig that Isaac had just pooped on the toilet. Isaac corrected me. "I pooped in the toilet," he said.
I told him he was quite right, but that I meant that he had sat on the toilet while he pooped. He thought about this for a moment.
Then he smiled wickedly, and he said, "I sat in the toilet and I pooped on the toilet!"
- - - - -
Yesterday Isaac and I pruned the lilac, which has just finished blooming. As usual when I prune, I went at it with enthusiasm. Eventually I stepped back and said aloud, "Okay, that's probably enough. I need to stop before I kill the poor thing." But of course I went back in for a few more cuts.
Isaac, who had been putting the branches I had pruned into the greenwaste bin, stepped forward and began to tap me on the hip. Still gazing at the lilac, I absently asked, "Yes, my dear? Is there something you need?"
He continued to tap me until I looked down at him, and then he said, "Mama, Isaac will help you stop."
But when we woke up together at 7:30 a.m., he was very cheerful. The first thing he said was, "We woke up in the morning!"
Then he looked out the window, and he said, "Now it's tomorrow!"
- - - - -
Yesterday afternoon I told Craig that Isaac had just pooped on the toilet. Isaac corrected me. "I pooped in the toilet," he said.
I told him he was quite right, but that I meant that he had sat on the toilet while he pooped. He thought about this for a moment.
Then he smiled wickedly, and he said, "I sat in the toilet and I pooped on the toilet!"
- - - - -
Yesterday Isaac and I pruned the lilac, which has just finished blooming. As usual when I prune, I went at it with enthusiasm. Eventually I stepped back and said aloud, "Okay, that's probably enough. I need to stop before I kill the poor thing." But of course I went back in for a few more cuts.
Isaac, who had been putting the branches I had pruned into the greenwaste bin, stepped forward and began to tap me on the hip. Still gazing at the lilac, I absently asked, "Yes, my dear? Is there something you need?"
He continued to tap me until I looked down at him, and then he said, "Mama, Isaac will help you stop."
Sunshine and roses
Before you start to think that life with Isaac is all sunshine and roses, I had better share an anecdote or two about his darker side.
At the end of last weekend, which we spent working in the yard, Craig and I thought we would take a few moments to relax and actually enjoy our garden. It had been a hot and blazingly sunny day with temperatures in the high 80s, but by 6:00 p.m. the sun was finally filtered through a big oak tree, a breeze was blowing off the bay, and it was very pleasant. Craig poured us each a glass of chilled white wine and we set up the lounge chairs side by side on the lawn. The light was slanted and golden; the whole yard smelled of roses.
As we leaned back in our chairs and sipped our wine, I read aloud from Easy Hiking in Northern California in preparation for our upcoming camping trip to Yosemite National Park. I think the reading, which Isaac found incredibly dull, is what pushed him over the edge. For a little while he played nearby, pretending to garden. Then we became aware that he was playing with the hose.
"Is that still turned on?" Craig asked a little nervously.
It was. Isaac carefully set the nozzle to "jet" and began to vigorously water the lawn. We watched in uneasy silence. We knew we couldn't tell him not to spray us, because there's no greater temptation to sin than being forbidden. We could have leaped up and turned the hose off at the spigot, or even taken the hose from Isaac's hands, but for some reason we were frozen in our seats. Perhaps we were hopeful that the worst would not come to pass.
But it did, and Isaac turned the hose on Craig.
Craig was furious, of course. While he went inside to change his clothes, I sat Isaac down on the lounge chair and gave him a brief lecture: No, no, no, you cannot spray anyone with the hose. Does Isaac like it when the sprinkler gets him wet? No. Does he like to be sprayed with the hose? No. Well, Daddy doesn't like it either. I also turned off the water at the spigot.
Craig came back out, and we made the mistake of trying to resume our reading. A bigger mistake, in retrospect, was letting Isaac continue to play with the hose -- especially because I hadn't drained the water that remained in it. Moments later, Isaac turned the hose on Craig again, and although there wasn't that much water left, there was enough to get Craig wet.
Craig was even more furious, of course. Later he told me that he felt a little bad about how angry he had gotten, but I said I thought he was allowed to feel angry, and I found it admirable that he hadn't done anything hurtful or destructive with his anger. I also reminded him that seven months ago when Isaac turned the hose on me, I didn't control my anger very well -- I returned fire!
- - - - -
Yesterday as I was watering, Isaac began systematically tipping rocks off the edge of our stone wall. After he had pushed over three of them, I asked him to try to control himself. He stopped for a moment, his back still to me, and I could see his muscles quivering as he eyed one of the last big rocks.
He finally turned toward me and said, "But I don't want to control myself."
So I set down my hose and went over to help him.
- - - - -
Yesterday he also drew all over his arms with orange marker. I stood by and watched him do it. I figured if I swooped in and grabbed the marker out of his hands, it would become a fascinating forbidden activity, one he was sure to attempt every time he picked up a marker.
It was a washable marker, anyway. Plus it was pretty funny to watch him carefully draw on his arms, from his palms on up, although I hope I kept my face impassive. The best part was after he had set the marker down, when he was admiring his handiwork.
"I forgot my elbows!" he exclaimed, and he carefully turned his arms over so he could color the pointy tip of each of his elbows. After he had completed the job, he once again examined his arms, and declared that he now had tattoos.
- - - - -
Lessons learned?
At the end of last weekend, which we spent working in the yard, Craig and I thought we would take a few moments to relax and actually enjoy our garden. It had been a hot and blazingly sunny day with temperatures in the high 80s, but by 6:00 p.m. the sun was finally filtered through a big oak tree, a breeze was blowing off the bay, and it was very pleasant. Craig poured us each a glass of chilled white wine and we set up the lounge chairs side by side on the lawn. The light was slanted and golden; the whole yard smelled of roses.
As we leaned back in our chairs and sipped our wine, I read aloud from Easy Hiking in Northern California in preparation for our upcoming camping trip to Yosemite National Park. I think the reading, which Isaac found incredibly dull, is what pushed him over the edge. For a little while he played nearby, pretending to garden. Then we became aware that he was playing with the hose.
"Is that still turned on?" Craig asked a little nervously.
It was. Isaac carefully set the nozzle to "jet" and began to vigorously water the lawn. We watched in uneasy silence. We knew we couldn't tell him not to spray us, because there's no greater temptation to sin than being forbidden. We could have leaped up and turned the hose off at the spigot, or even taken the hose from Isaac's hands, but for some reason we were frozen in our seats. Perhaps we were hopeful that the worst would not come to pass.
But it did, and Isaac turned the hose on Craig.
Craig was furious, of course. While he went inside to change his clothes, I sat Isaac down on the lounge chair and gave him a brief lecture: No, no, no, you cannot spray anyone with the hose. Does Isaac like it when the sprinkler gets him wet? No. Does he like to be sprayed with the hose? No. Well, Daddy doesn't like it either. I also turned off the water at the spigot.
Craig came back out, and we made the mistake of trying to resume our reading. A bigger mistake, in retrospect, was letting Isaac continue to play with the hose -- especially because I hadn't drained the water that remained in it. Moments later, Isaac turned the hose on Craig again, and although there wasn't that much water left, there was enough to get Craig wet.
Craig was even more furious, of course. Later he told me that he felt a little bad about how angry he had gotten, but I said I thought he was allowed to feel angry, and I found it admirable that he hadn't done anything hurtful or destructive with his anger. I also reminded him that seven months ago when Isaac turned the hose on me, I didn't control my anger very well -- I returned fire!
- - - - -
Yesterday as I was watering, Isaac began systematically tipping rocks off the edge of our stone wall. After he had pushed over three of them, I asked him to try to control himself. He stopped for a moment, his back still to me, and I could see his muscles quivering as he eyed one of the last big rocks.
He finally turned toward me and said, "But I don't want to control myself."
So I set down my hose and went over to help him.
- - - - -
Yesterday he also drew all over his arms with orange marker. I stood by and watched him do it. I figured if I swooped in and grabbed the marker out of his hands, it would become a fascinating forbidden activity, one he was sure to attempt every time he picked up a marker.
It was a washable marker, anyway. Plus it was pretty funny to watch him carefully draw on his arms, from his palms on up, although I hope I kept my face impassive. The best part was after he had set the marker down, when he was admiring his handiwork.
"I forgot my elbows!" he exclaimed, and he carefully turned his arms over so he could color the pointy tip of each of his elbows. After he had completed the job, he once again examined his arms, and declared that he now had tattoos.
- - - - -
Lessons learned?
- If your kid sprays someone with the hose, don't let him play with the hose any more.
- If your kid pushes over rocks, help him stop sooner rather than later.
- If your kid colors on himself with a marker ... well, try not to laugh. Actually, I washed his arms very throughly right after he was done coloring, which he didn't like, so I think I provided a suitably discouraging experience.
Friday, November 28, 2014
Gross out
No one is immune to gender stereotyping, but I do try to rise above it.
One stereotype is that boys think gross and violent stuff is funny. I know that when Isaac enters elementary school, he and his buddies will feel compelled to adhere to this stereotype, and that's just fine.
But where do these stereotypes initially come from? Isaac, otherwise a sensitive and aesthetic child, is already showing an affinity for the gross and violent. He doesn't watch television or movies, so he's not exposed to the media, and he doesn't have biased books or toys. Perhaps all children like gross stuff, but girls are actively discouraged from expressing their interest?
At any rate, here are three of his recent jokes. In every case, the punchline was delivered with a wicked grin.
How do I respond? With amused disgust, just like he wants.
- - - - -
You might ask how he even knows about monster trucks if he's such a media innocent. Well, we looked up pictures of monster trucks on Google Images, and most of them are smashing cars. Hey, at least it wasn't YouTube.
- - - - -
He actually seems a little concerned about the superficial gender roles he has noticed. Several times he has asked, "Why do mostly women and girls wear tights?" Perhaps it doesn't seem fair to him that men and boys are excluded? But I let him put on my lip gloss when he asks, although I do point out that it's mostly women and big girls who wear makeup.
As far as more damaging gender roles, he still accepts it when we tell him that women can work at any job, although he'll soon realize that real-world examples of female construction workers and truck drivers are few (politicians and CEOs will come later). Thankfully he has a wonderful example right at home demonstrating that fathers can take good care of children.
.
One stereotype is that boys think gross and violent stuff is funny. I know that when Isaac enters elementary school, he and his buddies will feel compelled to adhere to this stereotype, and that's just fine.
But where do these stereotypes initially come from? Isaac, otherwise a sensitive and aesthetic child, is already showing an affinity for the gross and violent. He doesn't watch television or movies, so he's not exposed to the media, and he doesn't have biased books or toys. Perhaps all children like gross stuff, but girls are actively discouraged from expressing their interest?
At any rate, here are three of his recent jokes. In every case, the punchline was delivered with a wicked grin.
Isaac: Would you like a cup of mucus?
Mama: No, thank you.
Isaac: Would you like a cup of skunk mucus?
Isaac: I'm going to smash the old cars with a monster truck.
Mama: Oh, yes?
Isaac: I'm going to smash them with a pickaxe!
Isaac: What are those red things?
Mama: It's cherry vanilla ice cream, so they're cherries.
Isaac: Are they blood?
How do I respond? With amused disgust, just like he wants.
- - - - -
You might ask how he even knows about monster trucks if he's such a media innocent. Well, we looked up pictures of monster trucks on Google Images, and most of them are smashing cars. Hey, at least it wasn't YouTube.
- - - - -
He actually seems a little concerned about the superficial gender roles he has noticed. Several times he has asked, "Why do mostly women and girls wear tights?" Perhaps it doesn't seem fair to him that men and boys are excluded? But I let him put on my lip gloss when he asks, although I do point out that it's mostly women and big girls who wear makeup.
As far as more damaging gender roles, he still accepts it when we tell him that women can work at any job, although he'll soon realize that real-world examples of female construction workers and truck drivers are few (politicians and CEOs will come later). Thankfully he has a wonderful example right at home demonstrating that fathers can take good care of children.
.
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