The Sweetest Thing

The other day when I was getting Adam out of his car seat I gave him a hug. He wrapped his arms around me, laid his head on my shoulder and played with my hair gently, like he used to do when he was a baby (this was how he fell asleep; always playing with my hair - it put me to sleep, too). Then he said, "I love your hair, mommy".

For a moment I didn't know how to respond. He hasn't played with my hair in ages. I haven't been able to comfort him in ages. Well, more specifically, since Natasha was born. But lately I have been making a concerted effort to reconnect with Adam and spend some good one-on-one time with him. Is this the fruit of my effort? I don't know, but I don't care. I have been enjoying our one-on-one time more than I could have thought possible.

Having Adam randomly tell me that he loves my hair...well that is icing on the cake. But, get this...right after that he said, "mommy, you're pretty". My heart has never melted faster. There is no greater compliment I could receive because I know his assessment isn't based on how my looks compare to women in fashion magazines, but he knows "pretty" is a compliment and bestowed upon women you admire, and to be a woman that my son admires, well, there is nothing sweeter.

Life is all about perspective

I substituted for our daycare provider on Friday for 2 entire hours. It was the most exhausting two hours of my life.

First, let me state that with two kids in diapers, I do more before 8 am than I used to do in an entire day. Yes, I was lazy before, but by anyone's standards, I am busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest these days. So even before I left the house to head to Cheryl's house I was already wiped out. DH does help quite a bit with getting the kids ready these days, but it still involves more effort than my caffeine and sleep deprived body is ready to deal with.

Nonetheless, with only one cup of coffee in my system and having just a few hours of sleep the night before I stumbled over to Cheryl's house and proceeded to care for 3 2-yr olds (including Adam), 3-4r olds, a 1-yr old and Natasha (6 months). Most of the kids were quite charming and just as Cheryl informed me would happen, I was a mere formality most of the time. They all knew the drills, cleaned up their messes, charmed me with their talents, and competed for lap time. There was only one moment of tension involving Adam when Taylor, one of the 2-yr olds said "My Jenny!" to which Adam promptly responded "No! Mommy my Jenny!". I think I had 4 kids on my lap at that point.

Things didn't get too bad until little Alex arrived. He's the 1-yr old who is quite high needs. I mean, Adam was very high needs as an infant, but once he learned to crawl and wear himself out things got much easier. Alex literally screamed unless he was being held. Well, Natasha was starving and I couldn't feed her because I had 7 kids to get out the door after their school lesson (pumpkins, color orange, letter "i"). Turns out, I'm pretty good at keeping two kids on my hips while tending to a bazillion other kids. But that's only because Cheryl has done such a wonderful job of teaching the other older kids how to be patient, take turns, help one another, etc.

After those two hours I was sweating. I felt like I had run a marathon already. I keep saying that caring for two kids in diapers should be a sanctioned olympic event. Being a daycare provider would be the decathalon. I don't know how people do it for a living. But I do know that we have an exceptional provider. And I love all the kids that Adam gets to see every day he 1goes. Also, I am thankful I get to sub but man, I couldn't do it more than once or twice a month!

"I'm a Superhero"

This is what Adam yelled in Natasha's face a few days ago. Then he looks at me and says "I say for Tasha 'I'm a superhero'".

My little Adam. He is my superhero.

Today Cheryl, his daycare provider told me, "Adam is just one of those kiddos that outshines everyone. Every once in awhile a child will come along that can do no wrong (mostly). The last one was several years ago. Adam is so special I just love him".

I couldn't be any prouder. That totally made my entire...life.

Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that he's only 2. I have to remind myself of this fact from time to time when I feel frustrated by his demands. I've just become accustomed to thinking of him as much older than he actually is. He is spectacularly gentle and engaging with Natasha. She thinks he is the funniest, coolest person ever (or as Adam would say "ever ever ever ever ever!").

Of course, I have bragged on here that his verbal skills are on the level of a 3 or 4-yr old. Counts to 11, can sing his ABC's, puts together 7-word sentences on a regular basis, uses articles, prepositions. Yet he still surprises me on a daily basis. Today he put on his hard hat and said "Mommy, I'm a carpenter!". As he was carrying one of his toy trucks he asked "Where's my backhoe, mommy?". I said "in your hand, Adam". Correctly he retored "No, mommy. This my crane. Where is backhoe?". He caught me. It was the crane. I just didn't know where the backhoe got deposited (probably flushed down the toilet). I was hoping to outsmart my 2-yr old, but I didn't.

Some other delightful things Adam has said lately to elevate my mood:

"Don't cry, mommy" (when I am nowhere near crying, so it's totally random but completely hilarious)

"MMMM! Delicious!" drinking a spoonful of water

"I think I do!" in response to DH telling him "I don't think you need chocolate".

"Daddy go to work and make money....for mommy" I am positive someone must have planted this in his head. He knows "daddy go to work" and "make money", but the "for mommy" part? I have no idea where that came from.

My little superhero is already smarter than I am. I have to finish college so I can help him with his 2nd grade homework.

Empathic Exhuastion

I got so tired of reading "Man's Search for Meaning" the other day. It's partially an account of a man's experience in a concentration camp and partially a discussion and explanation of his theory of Logotherapy where he states that in order to live a full life, it must have meaning. He quotes Nietzsche several hundred times, "He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how." It's a compelling read and I'm getting a lot out of it, but I couldn't take any more concentration camp tales. My mind cannot, absolutely refuses to understand how such a thing could have taken place in human history and what it must have been like for those who suffered.

So I opened up my laptop to take a break. I was sick of reading about baby related stuff so I opened the NY Times. Not because I have a superiority complex, but because our own local fish wrapper of a paper actually charges you to read their content online whereas the NYTimes doesn't. I was just surfing for something to catch my interest. I couldn't take any more news regarding huricane victims since I've thought about that so much my head hurts. I couldn't take anymore news about the recent earthquake in Pakistan, or the war in Iraq, or gas prices. So I happened upon a story about a doctor in Africa that does a surgery called a Fistula.

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/09/28/international/africa/28africa.html?ex=1129694400&en=8692228c20e723b8&ei=5070

I wanted to stop reading it but I couldn't. I should have, though.

Women in Africa marry and give birth quite young. A 12-year old's body isn't as capable of pushing out a baby as an older woman's body. So the babies of course, get stuck. The moms give birth at home many miles away from any medical help. The babies die. The moms have to somehow be transported to a medical facility (usually this takes at least a day including walking, being carried, on a mule, on a city bus, or all of the above) meanwhile the baby's head is partially hanging out. No drugs, of course.

Well, aside from the trauma of losing their babies, their nether regions are ripped to shreds. They are completely incontinent and cannot control either their urine flow or their bowels so their husbands leave them and they become outcasts. Some women cope by refraining as long as possible from eating or drinking. A fistula is a surgery to repair their bowels and urethra. It only takes 20 minutes and the women are immediately better. Unfortunately, there are very few doctors that can perform this surgery and the numbers of young girls giving birth and experiencing this trauma outpaces the rate at which the doctors can perform the surgery.

After I read the story, I thanked my lucky stars for being born in the Western world, not being in poverty, having two successful c-sections, and then I closed my laptop and watched The Real World. It's tragic that Danny and Melinda can't make their relationship work more smoothely but it's a tragedy I can handle.

My Pod

I have been having lots of problems with my iPod. I admit, I am not easy on my electronic equipment (my Vaio can attest to this). My Nokia phone has been wigging out on me for a few months now, but it was free. When I spend several hundred dollars on a piece of equipment that I could have easily lived without, the thing had better live through being dropped on the ground once or twice. The iPod hasn't even been fed peanut butter or flushed down the toilet for crying out loud!

So in the past week I have been forced to accept no less than 3 iTunes updates on laptop which is quite annoying and utterly time consuming. And of course I have to remember to deselect all the little checkboxes that say "do you want iTunes to automatically come on and prompt you to use iTunes as your default e-mail text editor every time you open your internet browser and also install no less than 200 shortcuts on your desktop as well as check for updates 2.8 times per minute" as well as 187 other little checkboxes that all ultimately mean "how can we prod you to let us further take over your life other than making you update your software every 2.4 days?".

Since then I have had several problems it iTunes as well as iPod software. I'm telling you, before I had my iPod, I had no desire to own one. I was getting by quite fine without it. Now that I've had it for a year or so, I don't know how I lived without it. But I'm starting to feel like it's time I learn. As Neil Postman said in Technopoly, technology creates new paradigms. Society with the gun isn't the same as society without the gun with a simple addition of the gun. The gun permanently alters society so that it is incomparable to what it looked like before.

I am this close to becoming a luddite. Do you think they would accept me living among them with my treadmill? (and TiVo, and by extension television and cable box)?

Kimmie & Como

We are so glad our Kimmie is here with us in Minnestoa! I told Adam on Thursday that we would be seeing her on Saturday and he talked about it until we finally got to go see her. He was also excited to see Zac-a-mer (Zac, the shih tzu). I had to tell him several times that Grandma and Grandpa wouldn't be there, even that Justin wouldn't be there since he associates them with seeing Kimmie.

Once we got near the airport and he saw the airplanes he thought we were going to pick up Grandma Toody and Papa "from Seattle" (he actually said that), so I had to disappoint him once again. But I think all his disappointment was forgotten when Kimmie & Zac accompanied Adam, me, and Natasha to Como Park. It's an awesome place and today was the perfect fall day for such an activity. Everyone had a great time.

Here is Miss Kimmie and Adam having fun (they moved too quickly for my picture to turn out well)


After all the walking around, Zac got tired so he got to ride shotgun in the double stroller

Natasha still has mixed feelings about Zac


And, for good measure, here are my two babies together. They get along so well together these days. Nat thinks Adam is the funniest thing alive and he always says "I yuv Tasha!".


So much love to go around!

What I actually did today

First thing a.m., Adam pounds at the door.

Get up, change him, do some puzzles with him in his bedroom.

Get DH up and moving.

Natasha is awake by now (no surprise since Adam is there screaming in her face "Tasha awake!" because he is so excited to see her; Desi is right there with him).

Feed her and change her diaper and clothes.

Take DH to work.

Drop kids off at daycare.

Come home and sleep for an hour (trust me, this almost never happens).

Get up, do dishes, laundry, pick up toys, vacuum.

Brush Desi and try to get some of his fur off him (he's in his molting season). Give him a Greenie.

Regiester for the St. Louis Marathon! I did it! I am registered! 23 weeks to go.

Finish Reproductive Technology chapter.

Pick up kids from daycare.

Feed Natasha.

Put Adam down for a nap.

Try to put Nat down for a nap but it lasts only 20 minutes.

Chat with DH.

Nat's up. Feed her again.

Start folding and putting away laundry.

Adam wakes up in his normal post-nap grouch state.

Hold Adam for 20 minutes so he won't cry.

Fix him some "monkey cheese" (mac and cheese).

Try, unsucessfully to get Nat down for a nap again.

Get fed up with Nat's not sleeping and put her in the jumparoo and do play doh with Adam.

Change Nat's explosive poopy diaper (no wonder she couldn't sleep).

More play doh with Mr. Adam Pants.

Feed Nat.

Do the ethics quiz on the reproductive technology section. Score a 90%. For some reason the average grade for the rest of this class on this section is a 67%. Hmmm....

DH comes home and rescues me and plays with Adam but the smell of play doh makes him sick so I start a bubble bath for Adam. Get him in it and put the play doh away.

I finally get Nat down for a small nap.

Run and pick up dinner.

Eat, get Adam fed. Nat wakes up.

Feed Nat cereal.

Read a couple dozen books to Adam to get him to sleep.

Feed & change Nat.

Get her down again while watching poker on TV and falling asleep.

Read some of my psych book.

Feed Natasha again and get her to sleep again.

Now here I am....too tired to do anything productive. Too revved up to not do anything.

Avoidance

Adam and Natasha are at daycare for one more hour. It's my day off today.

Here's what I should be doing:
- Reading the chapter in my ethics book on reproductive technology

- Starting the book "Man's Search for Meaning", for which a book review is due on 10/31

- Working on deciphering what in the hell "What the Butler Said" (a short story I picked from Zoetrope which is Francis Ford Coppolla's short story magazine) means so I can prepare a presentation on it.

- Rewriting my first paper on which I earned a B- (ouch!)

- Practice my speech on Affluenza (I get to talk about my swiffer addiction in this speech!)

- Finishing the chapter in my psych book on interpersonal communication.

Or
-Tackling one of the 82 piles of laundry (man I wish my mom were still here!)

- Doing the dishes

- Vacuuming

- Dusting

No wonder I can't get my act together. Look at all that work just waiting for me! Mom, where are you?

Best in Show!

The AKC Eukanuba dog show was on animal planet tonight. Quite clearly there was nothing else on, but I admit that I enjoy watching dog shows every now and then. I amuse myself at the thought of Desi, our first monkey (who is actually a Boxer doggy that I nicknamed "monkey" early on), ever competing in anything other than being well...Desi. He's so-so on obedience. Well, who am I kidding? He's terrible unless he's positive you've got a treat. He's a bit neurotic, a tad high-strung, surprisingly wimpy, but he is without question, the best dog possible for our crazy family.

Here is Desi the day we brought him home. He weighed only 8 pounds. He would walk halfway down the block and then exhuastedly sit down in protest.


He withstood the move from Seattle to LA fine. We had a great time walking offleash in the desert down there. He breezed through obedience class. He was still a clown, though. He would make me laugh every day. Here is Desi giving Tyler "five". Tyler is a kid that came over specifically to visit Desi. Just about every day.


He did not withstand the move to Minnesota quite as well. After the 4-day drive he has since hated riding in the car and convulses every time we force him into our vehicle. Then we went and had a baby. We were terrified he wouldn't adjust to a baby being around because we had lavished Desi with non-stop attention, but he surprised us by doing exceptionally well. In fact, aside from licking Adam's face raw, he was the ideal dog for having a new baby around. He adjusted to being neglected quite well.


Adam and Desi became partners in crime getting into all kinds of messes together:




Here Adam got the sorbet out of the freezer. Desi chewed the lid off and they both went at the tub of sorbet together.





Now we have Natasha and Desi is still behaving wonderfully despite being relegated to an even lower position within the pack. We love this doggy. He takes daily beatings and all he'll do is sigh and walk away. He was our first child and we are so proud of him despite how goofy he is.

A new face for Mt. Rushmore!

I'm sure that there is a theory in psychology that describes the process I go through with authority figures. Whenever I start a new job or meet a new teacher I am immediately enamored with them. They are what I want to be when I grow up. Then time passes and they slip up. They are human, after all. But they make a mistake and accidentally use a wrong word when speaking or write "who's" on your paper when they should have written "whose". And that's it for me. My illusion is crushed. Are there no more heroes in this world?

Since catching onto this pattern of mine I have tried to stop constructing monuments in the image of new instructors the moment I meet them. Likewise, I have also tried my hardest to not let any minor err on their part result in the complete destruction of respect I had for them. I've tried implementing this with 4 different instructors this semester and the results have been pretty good so far.

It's hard to say a lot about the instructors of my two online classes since our relationship is inherently much less personal. My Ethics class is an online class. This is the class I was most afraid of. My only other experience with an online class resulted in my lowest grade achieved in college so far (A "B"). I had good grades on my tests, a perfect score on my final paper...it was my contribution to the online discussions that got me in trouble. The class was "Anthropolgy of American Culture".

I made some good points in my arguments, but it turns out that "arguing" doesn't work really well online. My intentions were good. I wanted a good debate. I was open to ideas. I wanted to back up statements not made clear in my original post. But, I was new to the forum of online bulletin boards. What I have since learned is that in a standard online debate nobody becomes enlightened. It's just some flaming here and there. The instructor actually posted to the whole class that the point of making posts is to summarize, in your own words, what you think the author of the text you are reading is saying. My inner thoughts were "well, if 82 other people before me have done that then what the hell am I contributing to this discussion? Everyone has said the same exact thing!". That's the rote part of school.

Thankfully my Ethics class instructor is more accepting of our discussions. For instance, we have already discussed capital punishment and abortion and I have only enraged, like, 8 people so far. But for all of those 8 people there are many more that force me to flesh out my arguments. Can you believe that I have actually changed my opinion in one case (I will not say which here since I really wish to not exclude any of my readers). So, of the class I feared most, I have been quite relieved. I think that early learning experience of my anthropology class was valuable since I have held my tongue quite a bit since then.

In a related note, I took a silly little test in the workbook that came with the textbook for my current psych class. It's to see how argumentative you are...

DH can attest to the results.

I ranked high on the scale of argumentativeness.

Ok, don't let me forget. I need to tell you about my English instructor. I love her. I am so totally going to carve a likeness of her face into the canyon walls at Whitewater Park!