First Day of School

 

Florida

 

 

 

Visit from the Fam

 

 

 

Visit from the Fam

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

 

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

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

"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

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!

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?"