Andy's Page Too

Santa Cruz Beach

2009-07-12T01:35:00.000-04:00

First Bike!

2009-07-12T01:32:00.002-04:00

I Love New York

2009-05-05T23:16:00.001-04:00

First Time on Skis

2009-01-28T12:55:00.001-05:00

Andy at Work

2009-01-19T22:13:00.000-05:00

Andy at Fallingwater

2009-01-04T16:37:00.001-05:00

Christmas 2008

2008-12-26T16:56:00.002-05:00

Boo!

2008-10-31T20:47:00.007-04:00

Happy Halloween, everyone!

This year marked Andy's transition from cutesy-wootsy costume to action-hero adventurer. For the last two Halloweens, he was the cute and cuddly Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. This year--scruffy thrill-seeker Indiana Jones! I no longer have a say in my son's choice of costume. I have Uncle Karl to thank for that, for exposing Andy to a few minutes of the Temple of Doom, much to my horror. Oh, and his daycare played the theme song during large-motor play time. Thanks guys.

It isn't all snow in October...Here Andy and Mike enjoy free Rita's ice in the balmy 60 degree weather.

Cats for Obama! We are all in favor of spreading the wealth around, at least with candy. After gorging on his loot tonight, we've told Andy that the Halloween fairy will come tomorrow and take his candy and share it with other less fortunate girls and boys who didn't get any candy. Let's see if that idea flies tomorrow. Cruel socialist parents.

First Snow

2008-10-31T06:34:00.000-04:00

Sam Sat

2008-10-17T20:40:00.004-04:00

What an exciting moment for me as a former first grade teacher! Andy brought home his first reader from Montessori preschool.

Here he is reading from the tome Sam Sat!

Fall Fun

2008-10-17T20:29:00.001-04:00

Andy and his friend Elana at Harvest Valley Farms in Valencia, PA.

Birthday Party (2 of 3)

2008-10-05T20:44:00.004-04:00

Four Years Old

2008-10-03T20:53:00.002-04:00

Hello Fall

2008-09-24T21:52:00.002-04:00

Labor Day in Erie

2008-09-02T19:56:00.001-04:00

The beach at Lake Erie was perfect!

Andy finds a friend

View from up high

Arrrrrrr!

Real live buffalo!

A relaxing lunch

While Mom Was Away

2008-08-06T22:09:00.001-04:00

Andy really missed his Mom while she was away for a work conference, but we kept ourselves busy.

Andy's cousin Rebecca came over to visit and he was sure to be very gentle when he pushed her on the swing.

We finally got around to trying bobbing for apples. Andy loved it!

For National Night Out we had a block party and the local fire department came to speak.

Beet Harvest

2008-07-21T10:32:00.004-04:00

We harvested our first beets from our tiny urban garden! Andy eagerly plucked them from the earth by their ruby-red stems. Ranging from grape-sized to apple-sized, the harvest seemed plentiful to us, since we'd never had this many beets at one time. What to do with them?! I tried making my first batch of Beet Kvass, which is still fermenting. I wanted to pickle some, but unfortunately I kept them in the oven too long. They came out resembling dried prunes, so I scooped out any flesh that was still pink, and we ate it in a green salad. The beet leaves we sauteed in garlic and olive oil with a sprinkling of balsamic vinegar and dried herbs. They were delightful. Even though he gladly participated in the harvest, Andy would have none of the feast.

When we cook for ourselves at home, Mike and I continue to eat locally. We haven't avoided going out to eat, though. And we've had the occasional lapse into that other food group: Ben and Jerry's. Ice cream and I have a long history together in times of turmoil! New York Super Fudge Chunk was especially needed as I considered quitting a part-time job I took at the library, in favor of a full-time position at a cyber charter school. I decided to take it, which means even more changes for Andy and myself in the year ahead.

Local Challenge, Day 1

2008-07-15T19:31:00.007-04:00

Mike and I are participating in our Food Co-op's challenge to eat locally for one month, from July 15 until August 15th. We might occasionally bore you by writing here about the foods we eat: both to keep us honest for the challenge, and also to spread the word about a simple movement with the potential to do a lot of good for our health and for the environment.

Barbara Kingsolver wrote about her year of eating locally in an inspiring book called Animal, Vegetable, Mineral. This book had a profound influence on me and many others. At about the same time I read this, I was also introduced to the Weston A Price Foundation, an organization which advocates for local sources of pastured meats, grass fed and hormone free cows milk, and natural, traditionally prepared foods. After meeting Pittsburgh area farmers who raise chicken and beef in a humane and sustainable way, I gave up the vegetarian life style that was so integral to my identity for sixteen years! But how close have Mike and I come to emulating what Barbara Kingsolver and her family managed for a whole year? After one day of trying out the local diet, we have far to go!

Our biggest challenge is snacking. We both took hard boiled eggs and blueberries to snack on at work, but that didn't quite satisfy our hunger. I have to confess to opening up a Larabar on the drive home. Oh, and I couldn't start the day without my coffee--fairly traded and organic--but from Ethiopia.

Our CSA share came today, loaded with veggies. I feel a sense of mild panic each time I unpack the crate: how will I possibly come up with creative ways to cook all of this zucchini? And fennel? I felt so overwhelmed tonight, in fact, that I had a desperate urge to run to the store for some not so local chocolate, washed down with a glass of nonlocal wine. The wine we did have, already opened--it would be a shame to waste it-- so that was my second compromise of the day. Glass in hand, I was emboldened to do what must be done: cook a meal comprised of all local ingredients. (Kingsolver made exceptions for olive oil and balsamic vinegar, so we will too). At 6:30 we sat down for Eberly's pastured chicken, kale sauteed with garlic and scallions, and bread with Amish butter. The bread was from Ohio, which is regional, if not exactly local. We can do better: there is a bakery just down the street!

All in all, Mike and I managed a diet today that was about 80% local. And Andy? He did his part by eating a few local blueberries, and the bread. Since I can count on one hand the foods which he likes to eat, he won't be giving up his peanut butter and Mac and Cheese anytime soon. We would like to expand his food choices, not restrict them. Still, we are always hopeful that we can sneak something new into his diet. Something local perhaps?

Jessica and Quentin's Wedding

2008-06-24T00:20:00.002-04:00

Seacliff Beach

2008-06-11T14:54:00.001-04:00

Jessica's Shower

2008-06-11T14:44:00.001-04:00

Three Rivers Heritage Trail

2008-05-30T15:34:00.001-04:00

Before I moved to Pittsburgh, I bought a neat little book called Great Little Walks in the Pittsburgh Area. On Memorial Day, we finally got around to trying one of the walks! We probably timed it just right, as Andy was able to hike half of the 4 mile loop. He made the trip back on Mike's shoulders.

We parked at the Science Center, and walked toward the river to find the trail.

After passing Heinz Field (home of the Steelers), and the Vietnam Veterans memorial, we came to PNC park and this statue of Roberto Clemente. We crossed the river at this bridge.

We passed the city, walked up the wharf and arrived at the tip of the "Golden Triangle". This is Point State Park. Unfortunately, the fountain and park were closed, but the musuem was open. Andy was pooped at this point, and Mike's shoulders took over.

Back by the stadiums, Andy cooled off in the Korean War Memorial pools (OK, he was not really supposed to, but there were lots of other kids and dogs doing the same.) Then our good weather luck ran out, and the skies over Pittsburgh showered us with rain, ending our little adventure.

Stop it, Stukid!

2008-05-23T09:35:00.002-04:00

This picture is several months old; the shaggy mop/bowl cut look is a thing of the past. While I'm sad to see it go, we do have a wedding to prepare for! Andy is looking more like a proper ring bearer with his $11 Supercuts 'do.

In further developments, he is learning to get away with name calling by changing the middle or final consonant of a word, in a burst of three and a half year old verbal calisthenics:

"No, Andy, you may not take the chair to reach into the cupboard,"

"Stop it, Stukid! Ha ha ha ha--Stupit!"

Trike-a-Thon 2008

2008-05-04T19:13:00.001-04:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Thank you for supporting me in my first fund raiser. With my friends from the MOMS Club of Pittsburgh East--and thanks to your generous donations--I raised money for St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital!

Along the way, I learned how to ride my tricycle. A few months ago, I couldn't pedal very far without asking my mom or dad to push me. Now I can pedal up hill, and zoom around the track pretty fast.

I know you can't tell from these photos, but at lap 24, I really hit the wall. Luckily, my team mates shoved a juice box in my hand and kept me going.

I couldn't have done it with out you!

Love,

Andy

Spring!

2008-04-23T11:25:00.002-04:00

Easter

2008-03-24T07:14:00.003-04:00

St. Patrick's Day

2008-03-23T10:00:00.002-04:00

Washington DC

2008-02-23T10:42:00.003-05:00

Air and Space Museum

"Center" of DC at the Capitol (above)

Remember the Shrunken Heads in Beetlejuice?

2008-02-16T16:17:00.000-05:00

Dino Days

2008-01-11T23:03:00.000-05:00

Someday At Christmas

2007-12-27T22:47:00.001-05:00

Someday at Christmas there'll be no wars
When we have learned what Christmas is for
When we have found what life's really worth
There'll be peace on earth
-Stevie Wonder
"Daddy, why did he say 'no more war'?"
"Wars are when people hurt each other and he wants people to be nice to each other. What do you think about that?"
"I like that. I want no more war."

Holiday Crawl

2007-12-10T09:25:00.000-05:00

The Artist, Part 2

2007-11-18T23:19:00.000-05:00

"My face"

"My hungry mouth"

"My face and fingers"

Photo of the artist

Pumpkin Birthday Party

2007-10-23T15:21:00.000-04:00

The Artist

2007-10-13T20:33:00.000-04:00

"Untitled"
Medium: Ink on paper

"Monster with Teeth"
Medium: Chalk on sidewalk

"Fish"
Medium: Chalk on sidewalk

The Three Year Old

2007-10-06T19:48:00.000-04:00

Krestchmann's Farm

2007-10-05T09:39:00.000-04:00

First Day of School

2007-09-26T10:07:00.000-04:00

Florida

2007-09-18T19:33:00.000-04:00

Visit from the Fam

2007-08-25T22:42:00.000-04:00

Visit from the Fam

2007-08-25T22:32:00.000-04:00

Making cookies with Gram

Jake makes a silly face

Feeding the ducks with Uncle Karl

First trip to PNC Park...Pirates lost to the Phillies

Milestones

2007-07-12T17:39:00.000-04:00

At Kennywood Amusement Park in Pittsburgh

Emily casts a sideways glance at Andy, as if to ask "Are you sure you know where you're going?"

It's been a little over one year since we moved from sunny Felton, California--home of the redwoods--to city life in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania--former steel capital of the U.S., where the weather keeps us guessing. Should we walk to the store? When will the clouds part, and for how long? Will it thunder? Pour? Or merely sprinkle? Will we need the ac unit on the entire weekend, or just a day? Is there enough breeze to open a window?

While the forecast is unpredictable, I am learning to anticipate the constant signs of a Pennsylvania summer. Our Rose of Sharon is in bloom. Fireflies sparkle near the ground at dusk. Cicadas, these ugly insects, beging to chirp. This year, their chorus is a pleasant backdrop to a humid evening on the porch. Last summer, several Cicada species emerged at once from their five, ten and thirteen year underground hibernation cycles. Their noise was deafening.

It's also been one year since my Dad and Jacob's car accident. After an artificial hip replacement, my Dad is now pain-free and walking a mile a day. Jacob recovered quickly, and went on to star in his high school musical, receive his black belt in Tai Kwon Do, graduate, and gain acceptance to the University of Pittsburgh. (I'm not at all proud of my little brother!)

Another important milestone, and one I can hardly believe is happening: Andy is becoming potty-trained! We're on day 6 of this new acheivement, with only a few accidents. Ironically, one of these accidents happened at the park when I was bragging to a friend about how well he was doing. Just as the words were coming out of my mouth, Andy found a drain by the drinking fountain and hovered over it, pissing down the side of his shorts. Take that, mom!

Camping at Prince Galitzin

2007-07-02T23:49:00.000-04:00

This weekend, Andy had his first overnight tent camping experience. He went to sleep a lot easier than we expected, slept through the night, and woke up saying "I'm inside a tent!" Mom and Dad were not so enthusiastic. After giving the best sleeping bag and mattress to our son, we fought over the remaining flimsy blanket and threadbare mattress pad. It was a restless night.

Andy also got to see his Auntie Chell in action as a Park Naturalist. In her Wolf Howl program, he used different howls to call his pack when lost, let others know of an invading pack, and build excitement before a hunt. In the kayaking program, he watched from the shore, too young to join Mom and the other kayakers on the lake.

The Clothes Make the Man

2007-06-28T23:20:00.000-04:00

"I want to wear these ones!" Andy holds up a pair of pink and gray striped socks with a sullen picture of Eeyore on both sides. Although buried in his top drawer, he has uncovered the stockings Mike's Nana picked up from a garage sale the year before. Sized for a five year old girl, Nana couldn't resist them at 10 cents for the pair. Now Andy can't resist them either.

Since I had asked him to select his own outfit this morning, I don't want to discourage this gesture of independence. Still, does he have to wear them out in public?

"Are you sure you want to wear these?" I ask.

"Yes!" Never has he expressed such an interest in any article of clothing.

I help him put the socks on, their pink stripes stretching to his knees. Where his heels should be, the fabric bunches around his ankles. I think he looks like a toddler transvestite, but also playfully sweet. If there is ever a time when he can enjoy the complete absence of self-consciousness, it is now as a two year old. He might as well savor the freedom.

But then he surprises me by looking down at his stockings, shoved in their navy blue Crocks. "I look like a girl," he whispers. Can he really have a conception of gender identity this early? A moment of silence follows.

"Mommy you are a girl," he shoves his pudgy index finger towards me self-assuredly. "I am a boy!" There. He sighs. The world is right again. He may look like a girl, but he is, in fact, a boy. The socks stay on, and we walk out the door to the library.

The workers collecting the garbage pay Andy particular attention today. Is it the socks? We stop and chat for several minutes, during which they reminisce about their children being this age once; it seems so long ago, and yet went by so fast. Andy rewards them with his shy dimpled smile, hands in his mouth, eyes following their every heroic garbage collecting effort.

We walk on to the library. There, Andy's lovely striped socks catch the attention of an outgoing four year old boy. The boy edges nearer to Andy, his eyes dripping with affection. "You have such...fancy socks!" he gushes.

"Yeah," Andy nonchalantly replies. He's listening to the librarian read a story about hats.

The boy is clearly enamored with Andy and his fancy socks. "Where do you live?" he asks. No answer. "Pennsylvania?" he tries. Andy continues his polite indifference. I am trying hard not to laugh from the sidelines.

The boy, whose name we find out later is Roman, takes Andy's hand. After squirming away initially, Andy accepts Roman's hand, and the two hold hands together as the librarian finishes her tale.

"Do you love me?" Roman asks. Andy laughs.

I am in stitches watching the two of them, loving anyone who is so enamored with my son. I can only experience the freedom and spontaneity of Andy and Roman vicariously. That is, when I can forget myself enough to do so.

California Vacation

2007-06-23T13:34:00.000-04:00

Well, we may not live in California any more, but at least we can vacation there!

What an action-packed visit: my little brother graduating from high school, daily adventures with family and friends, a girlfriends' getaway to Napa, and the chance to see a good friend in her ninth month of pregnancy and also meet her beautiful baby girl.

For Andy, almost enough hugs, smooches and sugar to last him the entire year! We suffered from sugar-detox upon homecoming, as Andy wondered why he wasn't allowed to have ice cream and Popsicles for breakfast any more.

Here are some vacation photos, I hope!

Amo Seeko!

2007-05-30T21:25:00.000-04:00

Conversations with Andy:

(in the tub with a bubble beard)
Me: "You look like Santa!"
Andy: "Ho Ho Ho! Do you want some candy?"
Me: "Yes, please"
(Andy hands some pretend candy over)
(Andy wraps a ball in a washrag)
Andy: "Here's your present"
Me: "Oh, thank you"
Andy: "There's letters on it. It says 'I love you Daddy'"

(on a not-so-good day)
Andy: "I'm asking you with very good manners: Daddy, please go away."

(playing outside)
Andy: "I want to play Amo Seeko"
Me: "How do you play that?"
(Andy waves arms)
Me: "Wrestling?"
Andy: "Amo Seeko!"
(Andy jumps on me)

Last Toddler Standing

2007-05-21T14:10:00.000-04:00

Today, I have some good news to share. For the first time, Andy put on his own shoes, without any prompting or help. I came downstairs to find that he had independently recognized the need for shoes, had placed sandals on his feet, then tightened and fastened each velcro closure. Sure, the sandals were on the wrong feet, but it was an accomplishment just the same.

For several minutes we revelled in his independent achievement, while I wondered just how to mention his mistake without bursting his pride. Finally, I very casually pointed out that his shoes would fit better with more room for his big toes. He accepted this feedback, and willingly made the switch. What a wonderful moment. Now this is the kind of stuff I should be recording for posterity!

And the day just got better... We attended a Mom's Club meeting with over twenty children. Normally these noisy, crowded conditions bring out the worst in my two year old, who not only wants the same firetruck as five other boys, but can't stand to be looked at by anyone toddling unsteadily towards him. Not today! He played contentedly as the other one, two and three year olds fell in tantrums and fits around him. Today, he was the last toddler standing. I was quite proud.

40

2007-05-20T12:30:00.000-04:00

On Friday we celebrated Mike's 40th birthday. I know I posted about a celebration a while back, causing my parents to call me with undue panic and confusion: "Did we miss Mike's birthday?" Weeks ago Mike's family celebrated all the Matessa and clan spring birthdays. The actual day of reckoning arrived Friday, and Mike faced his milestone birthday in the manner he spends most of his days: with grateful shrugs and a carefree grin. We wore dinosaur party hats (selected by Andy), and savored "40 Sucks" lollipops. We ordered House Tofu and cream cheese Wanton from Hunan Kitchen down the street. We dined in, just the three of us, as Andy played Thomas trains and ate one bite of a mini veggie corn dog.

If the idea of his ever-approaching mortality was weighing down on him like a 5 ton elephant, Mike didn't let on. In fact, he claims 40 was easier than 30. Ten years ago, he didn't have a sweet voice waking him, singing "Happy Birthday to my dear friend Daddy." Now he has the sweet, and alternately whiny, voices of his own family. Somehow he's convinced this makes for a richer life.

One more birthday present for both of us: Pete and Carol watched Andy and his cousins last night. This time Mike and I stayed home, and worked a bit on the house and yard.

I had some time to think about parenting, namely, how overwhelmed and inadequate I feel, most of the time. Everything from eating (he doesn't), sleeping (still up at least once), dressing, bathing, potty training, and most challenging of all: interactions with other children. In an aha moment, it occurred to me that my parents lost their temper with me not because they were fatally-flawed (although they would be the first to admit that they are, as are any of us as human beings), but because I was an extremely vexing, intense, and sensitive child. Ditto, my son.

Not easy-going like his father.

I'm reading The Selfish Gene, by Richard Dawkins, and wondering why my genes had to be so selfish at procreation. If they were just a little more altruistic, my genes might have realized that possessing a brooding, emotional nature might not be the best way to navigate in the world.

I think a change of scenery, a visit with family and friends (which we have planned for June), will do Andy and I both some good. I'm also wondering if I should go back to work part-time. As my grandmother would have said, maybe I just need to "get to work".

Here Comes the Sun

2007-05-08T20:28:00.000-04:00

I have fallen in love with my new city again. It was a long and lonely winter, but a week's worth of blue skies and warm sunshine has us back outside, walking our tree lined streets each evening. As soon as Mike walks home from the bus stop, we take a family stroll to one of our favorite destinations: the park, the library, dinner, or to Rita's for their famous Gilati. There is so much to do in this beautiful city, and now that the weather is pleasant, we finally feel like getting out and doing them.

Last weekend we visited Phipps Conservatory for the Chihuly exhibit, where Andy humored us and posed in front of tulips and glass sculptures.

Maybe the sunshine has had a positive affect on Andy's mood also. He and I have had a remarkably smooth and enjoyable few days together. Mike and I have been scratching our heads, trying to figure out just what has changed in our lives to bring about Andy's mellow, cooperative attitude. After several months with no napping, he has taken an afternoon nap almost every day since Friday. His appetite has improved, and he's eating yogurt and waffles again. (Yogurt, naps and waffles: the magic combination?)

A month ago, we decided to stop sending Andy to the preschool program, where he was attending two mornings a week. He was not successful in group situations, having several meltdowns and aggressive episodes each time. We've also been missing our Monday playgroups, opting for one-on-one play dates instead. These changes may have lowered his anxiety. Although he can still react strongly in a one on one play date (he had a tantrum so severe last Friday that he threw up over himself!), most of our outings recently have been drama-free. Thank God.

This new good mood is especially welcomed, as Andy and I are driving to Ann Arbor, Michigan tomorrow, with my friend Tanya and her son William. This will be Andy's first road trip, and his first trip with a little friend. Tanya and I are taking turns watching the boys and attending meetings. We're in Ann Arbor for the Parent Participation Preschool International Conference. Our plans to start a Montessori Cooperative preschool have changed somewhat; we may join forces with a much larger organization. Stay tuned...

Pittsburgh is #1

2007-04-28T12:43:00.000-04:00

Pittsburgh was just voted America's #1 most livable city according to the Places Rated Almanac. While part of me suspects that a list of 50 cities is shuffled around each year to give each a chance at the top, part of me agrees that Pittsburgh earned its top billing. The city achieved #1 by scoring "mildly good" on a range of factors. In other words, Pittsburgh isn't stellar in any one category, but put together, you get a city that isn't too large, has decent cultural amenities, lovely parks, and is a pretty safe place to raise a family. Where did we score the lowest? Weather, of course. If I weighted factors according to my own value scale, we'd never score #1, because I'd rank blue skies way ahead of traffic, for instance. I'd be willing to put up with more gridlock in order to have a few more sunny days. Like more than 2 sunny days a month (we missed April's two days of sun, since we were in Seattle last weekend.)

My grandmother's memorial service was a perfect tribute to her beautiful life. Jacob read her eulogy, written by my aunt Ann. My cousin Susanna produced a slideshow of her life, that had all of us in tears when played against the backdrop of her favorite tunes, that my aunt Beth so beautifully played on piano. Beth's daughters, my cousins Lois and Lily, played the violin and piano. Andy screamed for "hot chocolate" just as my Dad began his words about Gram's life. I was so disappointed to have to flee to the nursery. Andy and his cousin Cordy duked it out over Legos, while I stood on top of a child-size table, straining to hear the speaker transmitting the rest of the service. I was able to hear, faintly, the memories of Gram's sisters, and grand-daughters. What was so apparent in everyone's remembrances, was how unconditionally loved each of us felt in Gram's presence, and how she had the gift of inspiring each of us to live more confident, more full and gracious lives.

She was an incredible role model. After the service, I felt so empty and sad as I said good bye to my parents and siblings. They had to leave early to catch their plane back to California. We had spent several wonderful days together, catching up and enjoying each others' presence. Andy and I would now be alone at the hotel, leaving the next morning for our flight. I decided to drive to my Aunt Ann's, where I knew we'd be welcomed, despite how tired she was after arranging the service and all the festivities of the weekend.

My cousin Peter took a special trip to the store to buy Andy some Macaroni and Cheese (which Andy promptly refused to eat.) After a whirlwind visit, in which Andy took each of my aunt's ceramic artifacts from a shelf and placed them where he thought they looked best (on the couch or table), I decided it was time for us to leave. What did my aunt do? Why, exactly what her mother, my grandmother, would have done. And exactly what my own mother does. Ann walked us to the car, kissed us goodbye, and stood watching and waving as we drove down the long driveway and out of her sight. We watched her grow smaller and smaller, and my eyes welled up in tears as I saw Ann continue to watch and wave, reminding us both of the special way Gram made us feel when we had to say goodbye. It was as if Gram would be waiting there for our return. It was never really good bye.

Before we left for Seattle, Mike's sister Michelle welcomed her first baby into the world. A sweet little girl, Rebecca. We had a chance to visit them on Tuesday. I would post a picture, but I know Michelle is uncomfortable with posting pictures online, so suffice it to say, she is very precious.

Still rainy, and cold

2007-04-15T15:36:00.000-04:00

With flurries predicted tomorrow.

Doesn't seem to bother Andy one bit, but yes, this California native is a wee bit homesick!

A Rainy Palm Sunday and a Snowy Easter

2007-04-12T19:29:00.000-04:00

Bed-head on Easter Morning

Helping Daddy celebrate the big 4-0!

EGGStravaganza

2007-04-07T22:34:00.000-04:00

I'll get you, my pretties!

Good things come to those who wait.

Happy Boy

2007-03-31T23:29:00.000-04:00

Seven, Eight, Nine, Stupid

2007-03-26T22:24:00.000-04:00

In the bathtub tonight, I asked Andy to count to ten, and then it would be time to turn the water off. How high to fill the tub is a matter of contention between us. I prefer it halfway full; he'd prefer to flood the bathroom floor. Tonight, Andy seemed strangely complacent with my request to turn off the faucet. He looked at me, sweet as pie, and counted to nine. Then he grinned a little wider, and, staring brazenly, whispered "stupid."

That impish grin! He knew what he was doing.

I can't believe I missed that grin this weekend. Mike and I enjoyed our first weekend away since becoming parents two and a half years ago. Our time away was peaceful, relaxing...all the words you can think of that are never associated with parenthood. But something strange happened: we got bored. We missed our little spitfire.

We came back to hear some interesting stories from Grandma and Pap-Pap. Andy was not shy, and over the course of the weekend revealed his full spectrum of moods and true colors. He was up several times at night, asking for juice. He refused to wear some of the outfits he himself packed, because "they did not match." But my favorite quote from the weekend is "Pap-Pap sadded me." (Upon being told he must come inside).

His capacity to frustrate and confuse us, delight and amuse us, grows greater every day.

Just before we left, he told me, "That is a pretty shirt, mommy." And today, I heard, "You are pretty, mama." (This was not precipitated by bribery, and he didn't want a thing, I swear!)

I am even strangely pleased to hear him shout, "I am angry with you!" (No repressed emotions in this child!) If he can keep the word "angry" and skip the word "hate" during his teenage years, he'll be doing much better than I did.

******
Separately...

CONGRATS JACOB on a successful opening weekend in Les Mis! I'm so proud of you, and wish like anything I could have been there to see your performance as Javert. BREAK A LEG!

Thomas and His Friends

2007-03-19T21:55:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday was a busy day for Andy. His first bus ride, first St. Patrick's Day Parade, and first stage show: Thomas Saves the Day. The weather was a bit nippy (mid 20's) and as we were walking to the bus stop we were wondering if we had lost our minds. We parents, that is. Andy was too busy making footprints in the snow to notice the cold. Luckily, the bus came quickly. When we got on, we noticed a lot more green and a lot more noise than normal. A bunch of St. Patty's Day revelers were headed downtown to hit some Irish pubs. We naively thought the traffic would be coming out of town since the parade was winding down.

Downtown, we caught the tail end of the parade. According to Andy, the highlight was "the hotdog truck" (the Oscar Mayer Weiner-mobile), but there were plenty of marching bands, bag pipers, and firetrucks. Supposedly, it's the second largest parade in the country. With all that to distract us, we didn't feel the cold at all. We caught an underground train (another first) to the Benedum Center and found our seats. As you can see, Andy had a Thomas flashlight to wave at Thomas (picture from cell phone camera).

Here's another cell phone picture I'm using as my background. I asked Andy to smile, but he thought he'd look better this way.

Mr. Cheese

2007-03-12T19:02:00.001-04:00

This weekend the temperature was in the 60's so we walked to downtown Squirrel Hill for dinner and ice cream. Andy was able to wear a baseball cap instead of his usual Siberian headwear.

Andy really enjoys puzzles of the 50 states. We tell him the state names, but he prefers his own observations, like "That man is laughing!" (Happy Abe) or "There is a fish on the grass! How can that be?"

A Beautiful Life

2007-03-04T11:10:00.000-05:00

Some might say she died of a broken heart. My grandmother, Lois Grace Long Elwell, died peacefully in her sleep last night. She lost the love of her life only two months ago.

I consider myself lucky to know a handful of people who love me unconditionally. My parents and husband are three of those people. My grandmother Lois was another. If she loved you, you knew it deeply, and could feel it down to your bones. She loved her whole family that way: intensely, passionately, affectionately. You knew it because there were tears in her eyes when she greeted you, and tears in her eyes when you left. Her embraces were long and warm. She had a habit of awaiting your arrival from the window of her home, and lingering there, in her doorway, long after you left.

My last memory of visiting her is so poignant. Andy and I stayed in a Warm Beach guest cottage for a few days after Pop passed away. The last night I had to leave Gram, I didn't want to say goodbye. She was reclining comfortably in her chair, and asked me to place a special quilt over her to keep her warm. The patchwork in this quilt was comprised of photographs of her family, different snapshots of her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren in time. Her son-in-law's sister made this for her, a truly wonderful gift for a woman who was almost as passionate about quilting as she was of her family. I kissed Gram goodnight, bundled warm with her memories, knowing an aide would come in shortly to help her into her bedclothes. I didn't expect her to get up.

Andy and I put our coats on (it was very cold north of Seattle), and we walked out to the car. After I strapped Andy in to his car seat, I glanced back at the lobby of Gram's apartment building. There she was in her orange-red quilted jacket, cane in her hand, watching us from the window. At 86 years old, having suffered several strokes, getting up was always an effort. She could have easily dozed off in her recliner. But there she was, seeing us safely off, a final gesture of her love.

When I drove just across the street to the cottage, I could still see her white hair and orange jacket. I waved. I don't know if she saw me. Andy and I walked inside, and I peeked out the window. She stayed in the lobby, looking out the window, for some time.

That was how she was. She made time stop when you visited her. A warm and gracious host, she had bread baking in the oven, and crafts planned for her grandchildren: origami boxes from old greeting cards, felt stuffed animals. I remember her stroking my hair as an awkward 14 year old, telling me I was beautiful, and almost believing it because I knew that she did.

When she stayed with us grandkids for two weeks while my parents were in Europe, she listened as I talked about my teachers, and the new ideas I was learning. I can't believe I asked her this, but I did: what did she think of overpopulation? She paused as she loaded a plate into the dishwasher: "I think that only Christians should have lots of children," she replied. Although her optimistic Christian faith contrasted with my pessimistic world views, there was no conflict between us, because she was not a critical or judgmental person. I felt that I could talk to her about anything.

At our most recent visit, she told me that I should have another baby. When Gram brought five babies into the world, she trusted in God that all their needs would be met (and they were). Her motto, written in crosstitch and hanging in her living room: "Use it up, wear it out, make do, do without." She reused and recycled before the words were popular with my generation. She sewed her own and her children's clothing, curtains, quilts and pillows. She insisted on having a sewing machine and table set up in her apartment, long after she was physically able to work with it. She loved to dream about it.

She also valued education. Having earned her own Bachelor's degree, she wanted her children to be college educated. After her five children were grown, she taught sewing classes at the local college.

Gram loved to garden. She loved watching flowers grow and bloom. She looked forward to the spring, even after she lost Pop, because she wanted to plant in her new patio garden.

Gram's unconditional love and eternal optimism are her most enduring traits. Having lost her, I am inspired to pick up her torch...and bring another life into the world.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2007-03-03T12:47:00.000-05:00

What a difference a week makes! Last Saturday, Andy was shoveling snow and today there's none to be found...

Do you think Andy needed a haircut? He was "a little bit brave" getting a haircut today. The balloon and candy made it all worth while. The astute observer will notice the left eye bruise due to a bad tumble. Hopefully we'll pick up some smooth moves at Courtney's gymnastic meet today

New Hip

2007-02-27T15:44:00.000-05:00

My Dad came through his hip replacement surgery this morning! I talked with him on the phone, and he was groggy but coherent. I'm sad that he has to experience more pain as the result of July's car accident, but am hopeful that he'll gain more mobility, and less pain eventually. Fortunately, my mom is with him for two weeks. She is staying at a hotel in San Francisco about a mile from the hospital. I wish I could be there, too.

I can't think too much about the teenagers that were driving drunk without a license (or insurance) when they hit my Dad and Jacob. It angers me that there is no justice or compensation. Dad had to hire a lawyer just to retrieve his own insurance money, and the lawyer took a third of it. What an unjust world, but what can we do? We won't be getting rid of cars just yet. I wonder what will happen with transportation and peak oil in my lifetime.

So much is out of my control. I have to focus on the good that came out of this incident. Karl received more help and support from county welfare agencies, which in turn relieved my parents of his full time care. This has been positive for all of them.

It's hard to be so far from home. I miss my family and friends. I miss the sun, the beach, the redwoods. I don't like being so far away.

Knits Around

2007-02-22T21:05:00.000-05:00

Check out these one of a kind, hand knitted purses by Bernadette at
www.KnitsAround.com
Wish I had her mad knitting skills!

Overheard today at the Squirrel Hill Library:

Small boy gazes adoringly at his mother, says: Mommy is Andy's friend!
(Mother picks up an armful of books.)
Small boy: Mommy is strong!

If that doesn't melt a passerby's heart, then it must be made of stone.

Andy with little friend Elise

Our 100th Post

2007-02-20T09:31:00.000-05:00

The snow in this picture will most likely be gone by tomorrow, or Thursday. We're thawing here in Pittsburgh. Great chunks of snow and ice fall from the rooftops with a crashing roar; Andy says it sounds like thunder. These rolling bursts of "thunder" kept me awake last night!

Andy enjoys the slushy puddles that flood the street. The changing season never fails to delight him. Me... not so much. Now that we're warming up (a high of 50 today), I hope a change in my mood will soon follow!

Here's an update on our morning routine with Andy. In a previous post, I complained about his screams of resistance to leaving the house in the morning. We had a rough patch there for awhile, followed by a short period of playful cooperation. Now he's hit another stage: verbal negotiation power to stall our departure. Instead of physically arching his back, he plays an "artful dodge."

A typical morning:
Me: It's time to get ready for school!
Andy: Just three minutes later.
Me: OK, in three minutes it will be time to get ready for school.
Me, one minute later: Let's take off your pajamas.
Andy: NO! Pajamas cozy.
Me, starting to unzip the PJ's: Ooohh, I see a wet diaper.
Andy: No wet! Just dry!
Me, removing diaper: Yes, a dry diaper will feel so much better.
Andy: I'm running away! (Runs naked in circles)
Me: Don't you want to see your friends today at school? You need to get dressed!
Andy: No friends! Friends scary! Friends naughty!
Me: You like playing with Miles, Emily and James.
Andy: No friends! Friends run away!
Me: What about teacher Leigh?
Andy: School is scary. Just stay at Andy's house.

Needless to say, once we arrive at "school", he runs right to his favorite toys without so much as a backward glance. If he cried or seemed upset at drop off time, I might believe him that school was "scary". Transitions are the challenge.

Happy Valentine's Day

2007-02-14T15:15:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Andy's first V-day party at his school. He enjoyed a face full of frosting, and candy hearts galore. I simply couldn't put a stop to the sweets. There were too many and he was having too much fun, so I gave up policing and grabbed a cupcake myself.

Today we had planned a party for our Moms Club at the Center for Creative Play, but had to cancel. The Center was closed, along with 581 schools in the area, due to icy road conditions. Canceling the party was a disappointment, but since the roads were empty, Andy was able to tobaggon down our street with a neighbor! And the trees make beautiful icicles.

Brrrr

2007-02-06T10:03:00.000-05:00

So, Andy had his first "snow day". His preschool teacher called to cancel because of the wind chill, which makes the temperature feel about 11 below, even though it's only -1. At least that's what Accuweather.com tells me.

Cassandra says she forgets what these temperatures feel like, even though she spent several winters in Chicago. To refresh her memory, here's my best description: when the wind is whipping your face with a sting that brings tears to your eyes, climbing into your frozen car feels like stepping into a warm sauna. It's that %$#@ing cold.

And yet, two of my friends here, one from Iowa and the other from Minnesota, tell me this is really nothing. I'll take their word for it, those two who save their bitching for more important matters, like potty training. ("Are you done whining about the cold now, because I want to tell you how my daughter left a turd for me on the stairs.")

Now you know why I like the gal from Iowa, because she drops words like "turd" into the conversation without a shred of embarrassment. The Minnesotan woman, her speech is less colorful, but I love the things she gets me to think about. Although I'd heard of the Montessori Method of education, her enthusiasm for it inspired me to learn more. Mike and I both read up on Montessori, and are now convinced this approach meshes with our own ideals, and seems to be an environment Andy would thrive in.

It's a shame that the local Montessori public charter can only espouse a small part of the philosophy. They claim to be 30% Montessori. Sadly, the system of grades and high stakes testing is incompatible with the crux of Montessori: that of the child's individuality and freedom.

It's Groundhog Day!

2007-02-02T16:45:00.000-05:00

On Gobbler's Knob I see no shadow today.
I predict that early spring is on the way.

Andy and I hadn't heard Punxutawney Phil's prediction when we decided to head out to the Pittsburgh Zoo this morning, but we were right in feeling a celebratory mood. Temperatures hovered just below freezing today. An early spring!?

I suppose Pennsylvania could have treated me much worse in my first winter here, but these past two weeks have been cold enough. Oh, sure, the first few days of snow were enchanting. I was on a Lake Tahoe vacation! I would have been whistling "Walking in a Winter Wonderland", (if I could whistle). As it was, the song danced around my head as I drew Andy repeatedly to the window. "Look, son! Look at all the pretty snow!"

Soon, my mantra became: "Still snowing?"

Or: "The snow... It's still here? Cold, eh."

Then, it started to feel chilly even looking out the window. Our windows are drafty, that's part of the problem, but it actually became painful just to turn my eyes and gaze at the leftover, crusty, sludgy snow-stuff (never mind slipping and sliding and driving in it)... That's when I started missing California.

But, the zoo. Back to the zoo. Andy and I enjoy the zoo most at this time of year. We have it mostly to ourselves, and some of the animals are so active, it seems as though they put on a private show for us. Nothing risque, just a little more frolic and joy in their step. The tiger cubs and polar bears especially thrive in this weather, and seem to like the break from constant surveillance. They can let their fur down.

Still referring to himself in the third person, Andy expressed his desire to have a more hands-on experience with the animals: "Andy hug the Polar Bear. Andy pet the polar bear on the back, gently," To which, I replied: "The polar bears are wild animals, and don't like to be pet or hugged. They have sharp claws. They are in a special cage."

But, my heart did little leaps when Andy, defying all logic, attributed the powers of the gods to me, his mother: "Mommy take the polar bear out of the cage. Mommy take it out. Mommy let Andy hug the bear, gently. No hurt you."

Ahhhh, 'if I could, if I only could... I surely would.'

Nails and stuff

2007-01-17T21:37:00.000-05:00

Call CPS! Yes, that is Andy on a bed of nails. He was unusually calm and patient as Grandma put him on the bed and the nails started to rise out of it. Didn't hurt a bit! This is one of the exhibits demonstrating risk at the Carnegie Science Center.

Here's a view out of our top floor window. It was a very rainy day with dark clouds, but the sun peeked through for a bit and brought out the color of the grass and trees.

Christmas 2006

2007-01-11T20:13:00.000-05:00

Click here to view our holiday photos.

Small Favors

2007-01-10T22:55:00.000-05:00

Andy and I arrived back in Pittsburgh yesterday, after five days in the Seattle area.

I had a couple of days alone with my grandmother after Pop's memorial service. These were long days, in which Gram mostly slept on her recliner, as the Cartoon network droned in the background, keeping Andy in his own docile haze. I don't know if Gram slept more because of her grief or if it was a consequence of her stroke, of aging. I puttered around her small apartment, wondering what I could possibly say or do to help her.

She told me she wanted to bawl her eyes out, but she never did. Oh, she cried. But something always pulled her back to the present moment. Often this was Andy, finding a ball of yarn and unraveling it all over her living room, or trying to insert a pair of scissors into an electrical outlet. And--unbelievably--she would smile. Laugh even. There was clearly nothing I could do to help Gram, but there was plenty that Andy could. If he didn't bring her to the present, he could take her to the happy past. One of her sons used to stick things in outlets, she recalled. (I thought this must have been my Dad or Jay, but no, it was Joe.)

I asked her, where did she think Pop was now? She replied "Oh, it's as the bible says... " and sighed, "But I'm not thinking of him. I'm selfishly thinking of me and how much I miss him. There's an empty place now, that hurts, way down here..." She longed for Pop to say he loved her again. They were married for 63 years. And they were happy years, she reassured me. "He was a good lover."

Gram asked me, was I scared, traveling alone with Andy? She wanted to know how I arranged for the car and if I minded sleeping in the cottage by myself. Gram is facing an empty bed for the first time.

I realized just how much I lean on Mike. He usually makes the flying arrangements, checks us in at the self-service kiosks, and determines which gate we are flying from. I appreciated this fact when I scrambled to find Gate "E" at the Pittsburgh airport. I managed to end up at a service elevator, where an employee took pity on me. He asked to look at my ticket.

"You're flying from gate B22," he told me.

"Not E?" I was flushed and flustered. Holding on to my active toddler's hand while balancing my purse and carry-on was about all I could manage. Getting both of our shoes on after sneaking his juice through inspections as he screamed for it had winded me. (They found the juice, anyway. After eyeing it suspiciously, it was returned to me.) Didn't I see E clearly marked on our ticket?

"No. I'm afraid the E stands for Electronic. As in, E-Ticket," he said quietly. But then, to make me feel better, added "It happens all the time. The gate number is actually very small...Right there, see? B22,"

"Oh," I thanked him profusely. He accompanied us on the tram, and pointed the way to terminal B. I felt like a complete idiot, of course, but grateful for the small favor. Actually, there were many acts of kindness toward us along the way. Like the rental shuttle driver, who found me a luggage cart, loaded it up with our bags, and sat Andy in the front of it, taking care that his legs were securely in. A different shuttle driver carried our bags all the way to the rental car and loaded them in for us. Sure, they could have been looking for a good tip, but I don't think so. I think they were genuinely pleased to help. As the employee who found us wandering at the wrong elevator mentioned when he said goodbye to us: "No problem. I'm glad I could do something worthwhile today,".

While Pop's presence was acutely missed in the Warm Beach apartment he and Gram shared--I often wondered what he would have said to lighten the heavy mood; it would have been clever and funny--Gram impressed me, as always, with her charm and grace. To everything and everyone, it was "Thank you, Dear." We left her apartment for an outing to Starbucks, and she noticed my rental car parked outside. "Is this your car? Good. I've always wanted to ride in a PT Cruiser," and she slowly climbed aboard, ready for another adventure.

Lynnton Houston Elwell 1920-2007

2007-01-02T12:07:00.000-05:00

My Pop died last night at a nursing home north of Seattle. He had just turned 86. Up until a few months ago, he was living independently, with my grandmother, in a small apartment in a senior community. I am immensely grateful that we were able to visit Pop and Gram for two Thanksgivings, first when Andy was just two months old, and then a year later, at 14 months old. Sadly, we did not go this year.

My heart aches for my grandmother. She remained in her apartment, but went to visit Pop in nursing care for most of the day, even sneaking him into her dining room for an occasional lunch: the dining room where they had eaten their lunches and dinners together for the past several years. She took Pop there despite reprimand and despite the fact that he would sometimes pour juice into his coffee. How an 85 year old woman, barely ambulatory herself, managed to escort her mostly bed-bound husband to lunch is a remarkable feat in itself. I suppose she was insistent that their lives retain some shred of dignity.

I remember dining with Gram and Pop in the "Garden Room". To reach the entrance, we had to first walk through a passage way with a large window overlooking the skilled nursing cafeteria, where the more elderly and disabled residents would wait-- slumped in their wheelchairs, wearing oversized bibs-- for an aid to spoon pureed pears into their perpetually open mouths. Gram visibly shuddered each time we passed this sight. It seemed a cruel and needless reminder of what was inevitable. Gram expressed her hope that she and Pop would not end up there, and I think it was then that she told me: "Don't ever grow old, Barbara."

When I received the voicemail from my Dad, letting me know that his Dad had passed, I did not feel the sadness immediately. Physically, mentally and emotionally, Pop was suffering. He told Gram a few days ago: "Let's get some money and a car and get out of this place." When he had to end his life of service as a minister and teacher, when his sight began to fail him and he couldn't enjoy the pleasures of reading--and this was many years ago--that was when I began to mourn for him.

As a child, the highlights of my visits with Pop were when he'd make his signature drink for us grandchildren: gingerale and lime sherbet floats. He had an extensive wind-up toy collection, and once each visit he would wind each one of them up, so that the whole house came to life with little wheeling objects. My favorite was Santa Claus on a bicycle.

Pop had an incredible wit and sense of humor, that sometimes turned surly. When Jessica and I tried to use their old mop to clean their kitchen, we joked that it was time to buy a new one. He grew defensive and quipped that his old mop was a lot like our hair!

Pop needed to retreat often to the solitude of his study, to read and think in private. In fact, this is what I remember most about him. I have this same need, and I'm sure I get it from him. When I learned of his death, I had an overwhelming urge to be alone for awhile, to create this post for him. Some cyberspace equivalent of pen and ink, if not bricks and mortar, something to commemorate that he lived and he died.

I know he would be disappointed to hear it, but I have no idea where--or if-- he is, now. I did not inherit his faith. His passing is a reminder to me to appreciate the gift of life, to say the "I love yous", to write, read, think and be of service to others. To find the humor in situations. To get out the toys and wind them all up.

I think I will have a sherbet float and say a quiet toast to him. Maybe even a prayer.

Thank you, Pop, for your life. I will miss you.

Dec. 19, 1920-Jan. 1, 2007

First Movie

2006-12-17T16:43:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-14T20:36:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-12T13:26:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-10T20:36:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-07T21:43:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-25T19:55:00.000-05:00

...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

2006-11-18T18:59:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-15T15:05:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-08T22:32:00.000-05:00

He Needs his Space

2006-11-07T14:37:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-01T14:55:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-26T20:11:00.000-04:00

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!

2006-10-23T14:56:00.000-04:00

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

2006-10-20T14:32:00.000-04:00

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

2006-10-05T16:33:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-22T13:12:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-21T09:36:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-12T12:37:00.000-04:00

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....

2006-09-07T21:30:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-31T18:12:00.000-04:00

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

Do you love the green carpet?

Hint

2006-08-28T20:23:00.000-04:00

www.visitpa.com

Rebound

2006-08-25T13:30:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-23T14:30:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-06T19:08:00.000-04:00

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?

2006-08-04T13:26:00.000-04:00

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

2006-07-27T12:02:00.000-04:00

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

2006-07-18T14:38:00.000-04:00

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!

2006-07-16T21:33:00.000-04:00

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.

First Haircut

2006-07-13T09:54:00.000-04:00

Can you see the tears? It was a tramautic experience for Andy. I was afraid it would be; the child screams at having his hair combed.

We're back in Pittsburgh, and are staying at the new (old) house in Squirrel Hill. Mike and his family did an amazing job of cleaning the place, so I'm setting aside fears of lead paint dust for the moment.

My Dad has been transferred to the acute rehabilitation facility at Dominican Hospital in Santa Cruz. It's much quieter there, he says, and he has his own room. He has some hard work ahead of him there.

Update

2006-07-03T00:04:00.000-04:00

My Dad is keeping his spirits up. The visits, calls, cards and offers of help from family and friends has helped all of us.

He may receive an operation on his acetebulum (the socket in the pelvis that connects to the femur) on Friday from a specialist in San Francisco. We are hopeful that will ease pain and speed his recovery.

How Fragile We Are

2006-06-28T18:42:00.000-04:00

Andy and I are back in Felton.

Please keep my Dad in your prayers. He and Jacob were hit head-on when a car full of teenagers swirved into their lane as they drove home from Scotts Valley. My Dad was air-lifted to San Jose's Regional Medical Center. He will make a full recovery; the injuries could have been so much worse. But, he has multiple fractures and is in a lot of pain right now. Jacob has a broken collar bone, but was released that night and is doing well.

Mike is still in Pittsburgh, since he started his new job this week. We found out about a potential hazard on the home front--extensive lead paint in deteriorated condition. Mike is getting that removed while we're away.

Today I also found out that my friend (my teaching partner for the past two years) just lost her mother to cancer after a long illness. When her brother flew home for the funeral, he contracted some strange virus and also died. I can't imagine the pain she and her family must be going through. The world doesn't seem to be a very safe place at the moment. How do people find meaning in the face of senseless tragedy?