Amo Seeko!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bed-head on Easter Morning

Helping Daddy celebrate the big 4-0!

EGGStravaganza

I'll get you, my pretties!

Good things come to those who wait.

Happy Boy

Seven, Eight, Nine, Stupid

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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.'