First Movie

I took Andy to his first movie (Happy Feet) on a Father/Son outing today.

He kept a running commentary:
"Birds flying away" - after Mumble escapes some hungry birds
"Just elephants" - after seeing some initially scary elephant seals
"Silly penguins" - during some penguin antics
(while patting my arm) "Andy's Daddy" - seeing a girl and her father on screen
"Something else!" - during a scary avalanche scene

He was so inspired by the dancing penguins that he danced in the aisle during the credits.

Can't Win

It's past Andy's bedtime. Mike is on bath duty; I'm checking email. I hear squeals of delight coming from the tub. I peek my head in the bathroom.

The laughter ceases. "NO Mama! Just Daddy! Mama run away! Mama run away on the wall! Mama run away on the puter!"

I walk back to said 'puter, dejected.

Then, more cries from the tub:

"Mama! Mama come back!"

The Unhappiest Toddler on the Block

I sent the following email to my "Attachment Parenting Spirited Kids" Yahoo Group. I'm anxiously awaiting some responses!

Hello fellow parents in the trenches,

I need some advice for my spirited guy. Lately, it feels that he takes a contrary position to my every wish. Most tryingly, he opposes my wish to leave the house in the morning. He doesn't want to get dressed, doesn't want to eat, doesn't want to let me comb his hair. And his opposition is far from mild... oh, no... these are daily battles of Herculean proportion: screaming, back bending, tears, snot—-picture Cerberus with rabies.

Once we manage to arrive at our destination (preschool, a friend's house,) he is content--thrilled, even--to be there. The transition itself is the problem. I'm expecting him to forgo present gratification (warm, cozy jammies) in favor of an abstract event in the future, however desirable it may be (playing with friends). I try to reason with him: "We need to get dressed in order to go out and play", but it doesn't seem to help. I try offering choices of dress "the yellow shirt or the red shirt", but that doesn't help either. Most often, I wrestle the clothes over his writhing body, as he yells in protest. We finally leave the house, late, both in tears.

He is a typical toddler, but with an extremely persistent, intense and emotional personality. My personality isn't the most flexible, either! I have strong emotional reactions of my own.

What helps your spirited toddler get ready in the morning? Any advice is appreciated.

Pajama Party

Decorating Cookies with buddy Liam
  
More pics of our first snow, which has melted. We had a warm, 50 degree day today.
 
 

Winter Then and Now

Last year Andy enjoyed the snow at Auntie Chell's house. Now he has his own back yard where he can play in the snow.

Sadly, no pictures

...because, well, see my previous post for the reason I didn't take any pictures of Andy with my siblings.

Having Jess and Jake here for the week was a treat. All of our guests from CA have brought sunshine with them, keeping the real Pittsburgh winter at bay. The winter everyone says is inevitable, in a "just wait and see..." knowing way.

Before I persuade family to choose Pittsburgh over 300 days a year of sunshine, I must first survive a winter here. No, it may not be a Minnesota winter, or even an upstate NY winter, but it's certainly not a coastal California winter. I can tell that much already.

For one thing, there are really no evergreens to speak of, besides the dead pines and firs people put up in their living rooms! Christmas decorations go up earlier, and it makes sense in this climate. The landscape is incredibly beautiful, in a stark and dramatic way that leaves no doubt about the season. Hills are visible where they weren't before. From our upstairs' window, we can see the cemetery hillside and the rooftops of our neighbors' Tudor homes. The full folliage of summer and fall hid these sights from us, like a curtain that has now been drawn. Neighbors have waited until now to rake the leaves; no sense going through the effort until every last leaf has fallen.

Although Jess and Jake saw mostly blue skies this visit, we did get a sprinkling of snow on Monday. We were walking back from the Squirrel Hill shopping district when the snow began to fall. We stopped walking and turned our faces to the sky. We laughed and twirled and held out our hands. We taught Andy to catch snowflakes with his mitten paws. It snowed just enough to dust our hats and coats with white powder before melting. Just a fleeting glimpse of a different climate, another way of life. Winter magic.

Maybe Jessica and Jacob will be back for school here in the fall. Jacob toured the University of Pittsburgh; Jessica, the Western School of Health and Business.

If this winter does come in like a lion, I will just have to keep it to myself.

Night Observations

Where Andy gets his bed-head

Here are some things Andy has said to me at bedtime:
"Daddy's head on pillow."
"Daddy Andy's friend." (while holding my hand)
"Daddy a very noisy boy." (apparently I snore...)

Girls' Weekend

  
This is the last picture I took before dropping Mike's camera to the floor of the bar. (And we hit a couple more spots after this one.) Although we had fun, I felt so...........old.

Cassandra, who is the single gal in our threesome, wanted to check out Pittsburgh's nightlife. We hit a few clubs on the South Side. I think she liked what she saw of Pgh's men. (Too bad I already snagged the area's Number One Bachelor, The Most Forgiving Man In The World. Instead of yelling at me for dropping his digital camera for the second time, he thanked me for the excuse to get a newer model with more features. Model camera, that is.)

Thanks ladies, for a memorable weekend!

Collage

  

He Needs his Space

Mike was playing upstairs with Andy this weekend, and was surprised to hear: "Daddy go downstairs. An-ny need SPACE!"

His friend William has a tendency to get close and personal with other toddlers--touching their hair and face, and giving long, intense squeezes. Andy has heard William's parents say: "William, you're being intrusive. Andy needs his space."

In return, Andy has taught William the words "No!", and "pause" for the DVD. (I told them I'm very sorry.)

On the daycare scene, Andy has received several positive reports. His teachers tell us he has not yelled, pushed or hit in the last two sessions. He plays nicely, they say, has an excellent vocabulary, and enjoys the music they play. Yeah!

I'm really looking forward to Cassandra and Bernadette's visit this weekend... And next week, Jess and Jake... Safe travels, all of you!

The Wonderful Thing about Tiggers

Tigger made his debut at the library's Halloween party on the 30th. He listened to stories, colored a ghost puppet, and scored at the ball toss ("But he CHEATED!", the four year old behind him cried.) Andy had so much fun as Tigger that he begged to sleep in his costume that night.


He rose the next morning, his head a matted ball of sweat, and wore the costume again to day care. When I picked him up later that morning, I observed poor Tigger in a time-out for pushing another kid. Tigger stayed in the time-out chair, but he cried the entire time. He asked his teacher for a hug afterwards, which broke my heart. It was difficult to watch someone else discipline my spirited guy, even though I was grateful she did.

Andy came home exhausted, but refused to take his costume off. After a nap, he was off to a Moms Club party. Finally, he made a surprise "Trick" stop at Grandma and Pap-Paps' house. Mike and I positioned Andy in front of the door, rung the bell, and dove behind some bushes. Pap-Pap answered the door, wondering where the parents of this orphan tiger had disappeared to. It took him a few seconds to recognize his grandson! Clever disguise, eh?

A New Friend

Andy's monologue before yesterday's playdate with his new friend:

"William! No hurt you! William. William hug you. No hurt you. Excited! An-ny big boy. William!"

William is known to give frequent hugs and affectionate (but slightly rough) pats on the head. Andy is fiercely protective of his personal space, and pushes anyone away who gets too close. They're an odd couple, but something clicks between the two of them. They are drawn to the same rocks (to climb), berries (to squish and examine), and trains (to fight over). They laugh at the same toddler jokes.

I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship....

Snow flurries!

The online weather report says overcast, 37 degrees, but it must be colder than that! We have our first flurries of the season! (Do native Pittsburghers get excited about this, or does it take a Californian?) As I'm typing, I'm looking out the window at the thick snowflakes blowing furiously in the wind, beginning to melt on their way down, where the ground is too warm for them to stay.

Well, we have officially run our poor Subaru into the ground with transmission problems. Not sure what car will be next, but I do know this: no manual transmission, and it must have seat warmers and an automatic starter!

In other news, we're learning that Andy's possesive nature is not limited to his toys and things. On Saturday, at a family get together, a visiting 16 month old (distant cousin) toddled over to Mike and put her hand on his knee. Andy was furious: "No!" he yelled, "An-ny daddy!" (Hmmm, we've had the toy sharing conversation many times, but hadn't thought of how he might have to share his Daddy.)

The Hand that Rocks the Cradle

Andy playing at Soergel's Orchard, Wexford, PA during his grandparents' visit

I do want write about Andy's first experiences in day care, and I will, but first, I must write about babysitters.

Because tonight Andy gets his first one. (We can't include family, here. I'm talking bona fide babysitter... a polite and yet unknown young woman who will have free reign of our home, play with our son for a few hours, and charge us an exorbitant fee for doing so.)

When I was little, I'm sure my parents paid about fifty cents an hour for a teenager to ignore us and watch Solid Gold on TV, while my brother and I, with the children of our parents' friends, got naked and did our own Solid Gold dancing.

When I entered my preteen and teen years, I earned a dollar an hour per child. But I learned from my childhood experiences and did not ignore my young charges. If I may say so, I was Mary Poppins on steroids--I organized treasure hunts, baked cookies, played My Little Ponies, sang lullabies, and pulled the tykes around in Radio Flyer wagons. Of course as a parent, I'm much too tired to do these things, but I did them as a babysitter. No, I wasn't perfect. I did my share of snooping and raiding the pantry, but that was after the kids were in bed.

So, I've come full circle, and must entrust my own little one to someone else's care. But now, the going rate is ten dollars an hour(!), and the babysitter is a professional woman, who teaches at the college level. She comes recommended from a friend who I trust. (First I tried Craigsist, but the only person who responded used the email handle "screams in a box." Call me prejudiced, but that email address was too quirky, gothic, and just plain scary for a potential childcare provider.)

I'm confident that our babysitter will earn every cent taking care of Andy. He tantrums now if his food breaks, demanding: "Mama, fix it!" Frozen waffles must be toasted to a crisp; God forbid a waffle should crumble, or an overripe banana break in half. Such ‘disasters’ turn him into a quivering, stammering mass of rage.

But he says the cutest things. When I say, "It's time to change your diaper," he tells me "Dada do it yesterday." He has a vague sense that "yesterday" means past, but the past can range from several seconds to several hours. Or maybe it means, never. He doesn't like the hairdryer, so when I put it away this morning, he said, "Mama use it yesterday." This is the same child who was comforted by the white noise of that hairdryer as an infant.

Birthday Boy

The lucky two year old, Andy, had both sets of grandparents all to himself on his birthday. They laughed over all his silly antics and impish deeds. Here he is refusing to sit on Pop's lap, despite repeated bribes of more chocolate.

It's Not Easy Being Two

My last post is not entirely fair to Andy, although it certainly expresses my own frustrations in parenting a soon to be two year old.

In fairness, Andy is developing a remarkably inquisitive, sensitive, bright and determined attitude towards the world around him. I have to put myself into his shoes, and wonder what it must be like to possess his depth of feeling without adequate means of self-expression.

He doesn't have his own blog. He doesn't have friends and family to call on the telephone. He doesn't yet have the ability to delay gratification. He can't empathize with his similarly emotionally-challenged cohorts. And he can't possibly be expected to sympathize with his poor sleep-deprived parents (that won't happen until he has his own sleepless Boy-Wonder). In short, Andy must feel a lot like I do a few days before my period with no chocolate in the house.

Kahlil Gibran said, "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself."

I love Gibran's viewpoint, because it frees me from projecting myself onto Andy. Did my genes or influence cause him to be persistent, sensitive, and volatile? Perhaps. But, perhaps not. Life (God) longed for Andy to be just as he is.

Here's another often quoted verse, which makes me feel even better:

It takes every kind of people
To make what life's about
Every kind of people
To make the world go 'round

The song doesn't say It takes the easy-going, happy people
To make what life's about
The people who never resist or persist
To make the world go 'round

Nah, that would be much too boring. It wouldn't make a very good song, anyway.

Last week I picked up a copy of Your Spirited Child. The author puts a positive spin on traits that might be considered "difficult". She acknowledges that many parents of spirited kids must go through a period of mourning for the child they expected to have, or wanted to have. (For parents of disabled children, how much more intense their mourning must be!)

Mike and I wonder if this is the untold truth of parenting. Do any of us have the child or children we expect to have? (***Gasp***, this is how my parents must have felt!)

Glory Days

I try to take good pictures of my son.





I try, but I often lack the timing and cooperation of my model. (How do Dooce and Dutch manage to take such stunning portraits of their toddlers?)

At bathtime last night, Andy was busy building the "Island of Sodor" with bubbles--much too busy to both look at me and smile, let alone keep his eyes open for the camera. I could have hit the delete button, but I wanted to reassure the grandparents that we are making an effort to deliver their digital fix. Just like we are making an effort to raise a happy, healthy, likeable boy.

The boy, however, has his own plans. Today his agenda included eating a small piece of plastic electronic equipment (?), shoving magnetic plastic letters behind the radiator, and tantruming at a nearby elementary school when I tried to post a flyer about my tutoring services (how's that for a first impression?)

I suppose everything will turn out alright in the end. Nothing signals the start of winter like the smell of burning plastic in the radiator, right?

I'm sure I'll think back fondly on these glory days.

Operation

From TrueMajority.org:
"President Bush is suffering! He's got lingering war, leaky officials and unlucky poll numbers - can you find and remove the WORST problem in his cabinet?

If you are the fastest surgeon of the week, you get to put your name up in lights and win a year's supply of Ben&Jerry's ice cream.

And even if you are not the fastest, you still have a shot. We'll draw a random winner every week for 1/2 a year's worth of ice cream. To enter, just play the game or tell a friend about it."

Play the Game

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

I'm learning that Pittsburghers come prepared for any weather. Showers and downpours may catch me in sandals and a T-shirt, but the wiser locals just pop open their umbrellas and keep on walking like it's no big thing. And, increasingly, it's become no big thing for me either. Even without the umbrella.

So whatcha wanna do is....

Mom and Dad--some suggestions for your visit! You'd think I was the one going on vacation for the enthusiasm I'm putting into this itinerary. But since my nights have been spent awake with a feverish toddler, and my days a blur of Thomas the Tank Engine, raisins and goldfish crackers...I'm looking forward to a change of pace. That and I miss you guys. So...

Sunday
After a driving tour of our Squirrel Hill neighborhood, we can head to Mt. Washington and ride the Monongahela Incline. Afterwards, we'll enjoy "the second most beautiful view in America" while dining at one of Mt. Washington’s restaurants. (Do you wonder what USA Weekend ranked the most beautiful view? Not the Golden Gate Bridge, which came in fifth. Can't guess? Read here.)

Monday
Visit the nearby Frick Art and Historical Center, and have lunch or afternoon tea at The Café at the Frick.

Tuesday
The Strip District
Heinz History Center
Lunch at Primanti Brother’s Restaurant

Wednesday
A driving tour of Pennsylvania fall foliage through
Indiana County, stopping at the Amish settlement of Smicksburg.

From Smicksburg, it’s another 25 minutes to Gobbler’s Knob, the home of Puxsutawney Phil, that famous groundhog.


Thursday
The Carnegie Museums: Art, Natural History, Science Center, The Andy Warhol Museum

Friday
Another drive in the country to see Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater.
With a longer road trip, we can also visit the
Antiochian Village Heritage Museum

Should be a lot of fun.... n'at.

On the Map

This week Andy enjoyed visits to the National Aviary, Zoo and Aquarium.

Do you love the green carpet?

Hint

www.visitpa.com

Rebound

My Dad is up and at 'em...on crutches because he's not allowed to put weight on his left leg for another few weeks. He's not allowed to drive yet, either, although he's talking as though he'll ignore his doctor's orders and go out cruisin'. Why not take advantage of the family chauffeur service a little longer, Dad? I know being driven around by your teenage son in a Geo Metro isn't your idea of a joy ride, but better safe than sorry. And to be safer, ditch the Metro, please!

My Aunt Ann took this picture when she was out visiting last month. She also sent a picture of Dad's post-surgery hip x-ray, but it's pretty gruesome, so I'll save it for Halloween.

Last night Andy spent the night with Grandma and Pap-Pap so that Mike and I could go out for our anniversary. Andy slept in his own bed in their guest room through the night! Woo-hoo! This is in contrast to the last time we went away--exactly one year ago--and my parents were up all night rocking Andy and watching old movies on TNT. I know my mom is thinking she put her hard time in, and we've moved away just when he's getting fun!

Sheryl Crow put on an amazing show last night with John Meyer. Wow, 40 something and still rocking. I don't get to too many concerts, and I'm sure the crowds will always bug me, but when the energy is right...there is nothing like that timeless, happy place that live music can take you.

The Little Stinker

These pictures were taken at Mike's parents' 40th anniversary mass and brunch. From the innocent look of the photos, you might not guess that Andy has entered the waters of the "terrible twos." But, we have hit the terribles. With a cannonball dive. I'm on the side of the pool, drenched. Actually, I'm in the pool with him...drowning, trying to keep my head above water. Can you throw me a life-jacket?

We may not be permitted back in the library. Yesterday at toddler storytime he hit three children, for no apparant reason, other than that they were in his way. "NO!" he screamed at a sweet 14 month old girl who dared to toddle near the gigantic activity cube in the center of the library. He guarded his territory, like a dog backed into a corner.

"AN-NY!" he shouted. (In Andy-speak: "That's MINE, so just back away slowly, little drooling thumb-sucker, before someone gets hurt!")

The little girl dared to put her hand out to the toy, and I should have seen it coming, but I didn't, and he hit her. I pulled him away, grabbed his hands, and tried to explain that he hurt her, that he couldn't hit. He just laughed, much like the way he laughs after hitting me at nap time. But this was the first time he hit another child. And it happened two more times that day. Urgh.

So, we're not going back to story time for quite a while. It was too crowded and difficult for me to keep a close eye on him. I think he did feel threatened in his own toddler way.

Any ideas on what to do?

Pictured: cousin Courtney, great grandmother Agnes "Nana", and great aunt Ann.

Put Me in the Zoo

Look! This is new.
Blue, orange, green,
and violet, too.




Oh! They would put me
in the zoo,
if they could see
what I can do.




Put Me in the Zoo
by Robert Lopshire

Isn't Andy there?

The title of this post is inspired by my cousin Nicholas, who would call my parents' house for one reason and one reason only. His telephone conversations were a source of great amusement for our family, and would go something like this:
Mom: "Hello?"
Nicholas: "Hi."
Mom: "Oh, hi Nicholas! How are you doing?"
Nicholas: "Isn't Karl there?"

Similarly, my mom's sole aim in visiting this website is to see pictures and read anecdotes of her grandson. ("Isn't Andy there??") Anything less (i.e., having to read about a sandwich) is a great disappointment. So, without further ado, here is the grandson:




These pictures were taken several months ago by our friend Joel.

Some recent character quirks:
The Magician
discovering the laundry shoot is a fun place to make shoes, toys, and books disappear
The Gourmet
adding a sprinkling of goldfish crackers to vanilla yogurt, trying a bite, and exclaiming: "Yuuummmmmmmm!"
The Constant Gardener
deciding there was really too much soil in the planted indoor pot, he generously spreads the dirt around the house for other flowers to grow
The Pharmacist
as mama cleans up after the gardener's mess, the budding pharamcist discovers a stash of medicine bottles and lays them out in an orderly fashion on the bed. Fortunately, only one bottle was opened and a few pills consumed. A frantic phone call to poison control reassures the panicked mother that the pills in question are not considered poisonous, are in fact designed to break up excess mucus in the lungs, which is strange because the boy happens to have a cold...

Pittsburgh is a Primanti Brothers' Sandwich

Pittsburgh, much like the city's famous sandwich, is a lot easier to stomach than it looks!

I'd like to think I became an official Yinzer this weekend. I ate my first (meatless) Primanti Bros. sandwich, everything but the picnic table shoved between two slices of white bread, with just my bare hands to contend with. I usually like my french fries on the side, with ketchup, thank you very much. I like my cole slaw on a plate, with a fork, please. Although I balked at the mess (they call this a sandwich?) of fries and slaw protruding from thick grilled slices of Italian bread, melted American cheese, and a juicy red tomato--it was in the same manor of hesitating before the first bite of a Swensen's ice-cream sundae. This can't be good for me. I really shouldn't, it's mmmmm, ummmmm, ymmmmm, what was I saying?

In other words, it was good. Damn good. I like the sandwich like I like the city. Unsophisticated, yes, but interesting. Unusual yet familiar.

After hearing of my hesitation to move to Pittsburgh, my uncle Elias, who is from Lebanon, told me: "It's the United States of America! Anywhere you go here will be good." He was right. I'm finding the experience of living here more similar to California than different. Still, there are enough regional differences to make life interesting.

Now if I could just bring my family and friends here, too....

Welcome home, Dad! Can't wait for you and Mom to try a Primanti Bros. sandwich. You can skip the Iron City beer, though. They may make a decent sandwich, but their beer is watery and flat!

The Merry Go Round of Life

Yesterday at Schenley Plaza near Carnegie Mellon University, Andy rode on the carousel with new buddies, Myles and Samuel. We met up with the toddlers through the Moms Club of Pittsburgh East.

Our furniture arrived today! Now we have some serious unpacking to do. Andy was overjoyed to be reunited with his cars and trains. I am relieved to have more clothes to wear, and to sleep in my own bed. It's the little things in life...

The physical and occupational therapists are giving my Dad quite a workout at Dominican. If all goes well, he could be home as early as Friday.

Fun!

It's Andy's turn to scrub mortar with a toothbush. He's much more enthusiastic about the project than I am. He's feeling very pleased with himself for making his way up the ladder. I'm feeling frustrated, because the more we scrub, the more the mortar crumbles...I want to paint this brick wall an off-white color.

We've also started painting the living room in "dusty yellow", as inspired by Jessica and Hilary's Bungalow in Eureka.