Today, we went swimming with old Austin Stay-at-Home Dads group friends that we haven't seen as much since Thumper started school last year, then went to their home to hang out and make s'mores. We saw them at a playground play date yesterday, and as we stood on the bridge over the pond throwing expired baked goods down to the ducks, Thumper told his longtime friend, "I'm so happy to see you again." So we made arrangements to go swimming together today, and he loved seeing those kids again, and meeting their new dog, and I loved chatting with their mom and catching up again.
After that, we went to another ASAHDs family's house for a multi-family pizza party. My kid ran around and around and around their circular layout apartment (that, apparently, LBJ and Ladybird occupied in the '30's), and danced, and played, and I sat around talking, and drank a beer, and everybody ate round after round after round of incredible little pizzas with carmelized onions, rich cheeses, tomatoes, peppers, and a crispy homemade crust. We talked, and laughed, and reminisced, and shared experiences, and enjoyed the kids enjoying themselves.
And it occurred to me that this has been the summer of reaching out for us. We're doing much with many people, and it's been very satisfying for both of us.We've been reconnecting with dads' group friends that we lost contact with over the school year. We've been discovering new friends, for both him and for me, and for Aerie. We've been swimming, and going to birthday parties, and exploring new places. We've been camping, and climbing, and jumping off of high places, and as much as I thought I was fine with my own little world, I've deeply appreciated the degree to which it's expanded this summer. You people, you're all so special. I've loved how much you've made me push my own boundaries and reject my own shy, introverted social awkwardness. Thanks so much for this wonderful summer, and I hope it keeps on keeping on, right through the new school year. Smoochie smoochies!
Showing posts with label Summer Fun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Summer Fun. Show all posts
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Stories Too Long for Facebook
Yesterday, Thumper was running off to do something in another room when I told him, "Come here and let me comb your hair, then you can do whatever you want to do." His eyes lit up, and he immediately, without a pause, said, "I can do whatever I want to do?"
Realizing my semantic mistake, I said, "No, I mean you can go do whatever it is you were going to do in there." Aerie immediately pointed out how smart he was to see the loophole, so I asked him, "Who's the smartest: you, me, or Mama?"
"Mama."
"Who's the 2nd smartest?"
"I'm sorry to tell you, Dad, but it's me."
"Well, am I smarter than the kitties?"
"Yes. You're 3rd smartest. Then the kitties."
So, at least I outrank the kitties.
We spent the afternoon today trying to entertain ourselves without any TV or video games. While I did dishes and changed the bedding around the house, he ran on the treadmill, jumped on the trampoline, and beat up the standup punching bag. Then we worked on learning chess. When he couldn't figure out how to beat me in less than 30 minutes, he wanted to move on, plus it was about time to start cooking dinner.
I went into the kitchen, hooked up my iPod to the portable speakers, and kind of bopped along while I cooked. I turned around and saw him in the kitchen rocking out. He works his hips, his shoulders, his head, his arms. He has rhythm. He's gone to Zumba classes with Aerie a couple of times, and people there commented on his rhythm. He jumps, bounces, throws in lots of variety. I can't begin to move like he does. But he inspires me to dance less self-consciously, at least when it's just the two of us. Maybe in time I'll dance in public like I don't care what you think.
I started this summer with difficulty, trying to remember what it was like to spend all day every day with him since he just finished his first year of school. I'm beginning to remember how to talk to him like a person instead of snapping instructions at him and yelling at him when he doesn't listen. I'm remembering how to appreciate him, his sense of humor, his charm, his perspective on the world.
We spent two nights and three days camping with four other families (an entire post of its own, if I ever get around to writing it). It was his first camping trip. I told him that for the entire course of camping, he could make his own decisions about what he wanted to do and what he wanted to eat as long as he told me when he was going into the lake and when he was leaving the campsite. With the removal of all expectations for him to behave in a certain way and all expectations for me to limit his choices, we both were completely relaxed. For the most part, he made good choices, was kind to the other kids and polite to the adults. It was so fun and so calming that I found myself wondering why I was stressed and angry and snapped at him so much. I suppose we all do better when we're treated like people and aren't yelled at.
Realizing my semantic mistake, I said, "No, I mean you can go do whatever it is you were going to do in there." Aerie immediately pointed out how smart he was to see the loophole, so I asked him, "Who's the smartest: you, me, or Mama?"
"Mama."
"Who's the 2nd smartest?"
"I'm sorry to tell you, Dad, but it's me."
"Well, am I smarter than the kitties?"
"Yes. You're 3rd smartest. Then the kitties."
So, at least I outrank the kitties.
We spent the afternoon today trying to entertain ourselves without any TV or video games. While I did dishes and changed the bedding around the house, he ran on the treadmill, jumped on the trampoline, and beat up the standup punching bag. Then we worked on learning chess. When he couldn't figure out how to beat me in less than 30 minutes, he wanted to move on, plus it was about time to start cooking dinner.
I went into the kitchen, hooked up my iPod to the portable speakers, and kind of bopped along while I cooked. I turned around and saw him in the kitchen rocking out. He works his hips, his shoulders, his head, his arms. He has rhythm. He's gone to Zumba classes with Aerie a couple of times, and people there commented on his rhythm. He jumps, bounces, throws in lots of variety. I can't begin to move like he does. But he inspires me to dance less self-consciously, at least when it's just the two of us. Maybe in time I'll dance in public like I don't care what you think.
I started this summer with difficulty, trying to remember what it was like to spend all day every day with him since he just finished his first year of school. I'm beginning to remember how to talk to him like a person instead of snapping instructions at him and yelling at him when he doesn't listen. I'm remembering how to appreciate him, his sense of humor, his charm, his perspective on the world.
We spent two nights and three days camping with four other families (an entire post of its own, if I ever get around to writing it). It was his first camping trip. I told him that for the entire course of camping, he could make his own decisions about what he wanted to do and what he wanted to eat as long as he told me when he was going into the lake and when he was leaving the campsite. With the removal of all expectations for him to behave in a certain way and all expectations for me to limit his choices, we both were completely relaxed. For the most part, he made good choices, was kind to the other kids and polite to the adults. It was so fun and so calming that I found myself wondering why I was stressed and angry and snapped at him so much. I suppose we all do better when we're treated like people and aren't yelled at.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Pride, Hopefully Without the Fall
Thumper has grown so much this year, that the bike that was a perfect fit for him a little over a year ago:
is now too tiny for him. The other bike that he spent so much time on last summer:
is also too tiny for him. We worked a deal with the neighbors across the street, who have 3 boys, 2 of whom are younger than Thumper, trading our 12" bike that's too small for Thumper for their 16" bike that's too big for their 2 youngest. Perfect! Except that the front inner tube keeps exploding. At first, I thought it was the unbelievable heat that builds up in the garage when it's 108 degrees outside, but why would it apply only to that one tire on that one bike? Then I thought maybe it was a rough edge inside the rim, but I ran my fingers all the way around inside the rim and inside the tire and felt nothing. About a week and a half ago, we shortened the lives of a handful of moms at the sand pit when the front tire of the bike he rode from the parking lot suddenly, dramatically, exploded. Two of them hit the deck like battle-weary veterans, scanning the horizon for the sniper in the grass. After carrying a huge, exhausted 4-year-old, a flat-tired bike, and a bag full of sand toys back to the car, I was absolutely done with that bike, returning it to the owners the same day and heading to the local Goodwill to find Thumper a 16" bike of his own.
So after replacing dramatically blown tubes on that bike 4 times, plus one of his tricycle's tubes, plus one of his balance bike's tubes so that we can pass it down to a friend, plus both the front tire and inner tube on his new bike, I'm done with bicycle tire repair. I've spent more on tires and inner tubes in the last 6 weeks than I have on all of his bikes combined.
But it was all worth it today.
Yesterday, I replaced 2 inner tubes and one tire on his various wheeled conveyances, leaving just 15 or 20 minutes to ride bikes before dinner. He loved his new bike so much that he declared he wanted to ride bikes every day, a desire he hasn't expressed since last summer. This afternoon, we left a little more time for bike riding in the afternoon, enjoying the fact that it's only 95 at the day's peak instead of 108. After riding around for a bit in the dead-end, I asked him if he wanted to ride to the local park, about a mile-and-a-half away. He thought it was a fabulous idea. I warned him it was kind of a long way; he had no doubts. So off we pedaled.
And instead of the inner tube, it was me that burst. With pride. Repeatedly. He pedaled and pedaled. He talked and talked. He reminded me so much of that kid in the triathlon right before Thumper was born that I almost teared up. He looked for cars at each of the street crossings and checked with me to make sure it was OK to cross. He kept right on going all the way, without getting bored or tired. He lit up with pride each time I told him how impressed I was that he was riding so far.
"You didn't know I could ride so far, did you Dad?"
No, my son, I didn't.
By the time we got there, he'd ridden 2.16 miles. Under his own power, without stopping or complaining. After we played for almost an hour, he was even willing to pedal home again, but (of course!) my front tire was flat, so Aerie picked us up on our walk home.
I am stunned by the power of my love and pride for this boy, and how it contrasts daily with my annoyance and guilt.
is now too tiny for him. The other bike that he spent so much time on last summer:
is also too tiny for him. We worked a deal with the neighbors across the street, who have 3 boys, 2 of whom are younger than Thumper, trading our 12" bike that's too small for Thumper for their 16" bike that's too big for their 2 youngest. Perfect! Except that the front inner tube keeps exploding. At first, I thought it was the unbelievable heat that builds up in the garage when it's 108 degrees outside, but why would it apply only to that one tire on that one bike? Then I thought maybe it was a rough edge inside the rim, but I ran my fingers all the way around inside the rim and inside the tire and felt nothing. About a week and a half ago, we shortened the lives of a handful of moms at the sand pit when the front tire of the bike he rode from the parking lot suddenly, dramatically, exploded. Two of them hit the deck like battle-weary veterans, scanning the horizon for the sniper in the grass. After carrying a huge, exhausted 4-year-old, a flat-tired bike, and a bag full of sand toys back to the car, I was absolutely done with that bike, returning it to the owners the same day and heading to the local Goodwill to find Thumper a 16" bike of his own.
So after replacing dramatically blown tubes on that bike 4 times, plus one of his tricycle's tubes, plus one of his balance bike's tubes so that we can pass it down to a friend, plus both the front tire and inner tube on his new bike, I'm done with bicycle tire repair. I've spent more on tires and inner tubes in the last 6 weeks than I have on all of his bikes combined.
But it was all worth it today.
Yesterday, I replaced 2 inner tubes and one tire on his various wheeled conveyances, leaving just 15 or 20 minutes to ride bikes before dinner. He loved his new bike so much that he declared he wanted to ride bikes every day, a desire he hasn't expressed since last summer. This afternoon, we left a little more time for bike riding in the afternoon, enjoying the fact that it's only 95 at the day's peak instead of 108. After riding around for a bit in the dead-end, I asked him if he wanted to ride to the local park, about a mile-and-a-half away. He thought it was a fabulous idea. I warned him it was kind of a long way; he had no doubts. So off we pedaled.
And instead of the inner tube, it was me that burst. With pride. Repeatedly. He pedaled and pedaled. He talked and talked. He reminded me so much of that kid in the triathlon right before Thumper was born that I almost teared up. He looked for cars at each of the street crossings and checked with me to make sure it was OK to cross. He kept right on going all the way, without getting bored or tired. He lit up with pride each time I told him how impressed I was that he was riding so far.
"You didn't know I could ride so far, did you Dad?"
No, my son, I didn't.
By the time we got there, he'd ridden 2.16 miles. Under his own power, without stopping or complaining. After we played for almost an hour, he was even willing to pedal home again, but (of course!) my front tire was flat, so Aerie picked us up on our walk home.
I am stunned by the power of my love and pride for this boy, and how it contrasts daily with my annoyance and guilt.
Friday, June 25, 2010
From Drought to Flood
So now I belong to three playgroups, and my calendar is full. Thumper and I go to play dates and there are people there whose names I know! And whose kids' names I know! I can entice him to go out the door with me sans screaming fit by telling him, "[Insert name of older kid he admires] will be there!"
And dangit, wouldn't you know, my dads' group, who show up to nearly nothing and communicate almost not at all, like they're a bunch of do-it-yourself loner males or something, suddenly planned an outing! A spontaneous outing that sounded like a lot of fun! This morning, they went to McKinney Falls State Park to fish and swim and hike and grill and bike and play horseshoes and throw footballs and have all manner of excellent outdoor fun. The old guard dads were even going to show up in numbers, the ones who were the original members and haven't come to anything since their kids entered school.
I was kind of baffled by this. Last week, Thumper and I suggested a morning swimming in the lake, followed by a picnic lunch. One other dad wanted to come; the idea was met by deafening silence by everyone else. So we went, and we had a great time. The other dad brought his canoe. His little girl is just a month older than Thumper, and the four of us had a fabulous time.
So why do I find it annoying that the dads' group finally planned an outing, and a spectacular one at that? Because I'd already RSVP'd to the first play date of the brand new playgroup, the third to which I now belong. I didn't want to make a bad impression and back out. And it was fun. We went to the sprinkler park. Thumper has gotten over his fear of lifeguards, and has been having a blast at the pools the last few weeks. And he even got wet at the sprinkler park today. He didn't get upset when he got sprayed or splashed by other kids, either. It's a great relief to know we won't be the only two idiots frying on the untouchably hot playgrounds this summer while everybody else keeps cool in the pool.
So we did the same-old, same-old while the dads all had grand fun without us. Stupid dads' group...
And dangit, wouldn't you know, my dads' group, who show up to nearly nothing and communicate almost not at all, like they're a bunch of do-it-yourself loner males or something, suddenly planned an outing! A spontaneous outing that sounded like a lot of fun! This morning, they went to McKinney Falls State Park to fish and swim and hike and grill and bike and play horseshoes and throw footballs and have all manner of excellent outdoor fun. The old guard dads were even going to show up in numbers, the ones who were the original members and haven't come to anything since their kids entered school.
I was kind of baffled by this. Last week, Thumper and I suggested a morning swimming in the lake, followed by a picnic lunch. One other dad wanted to come; the idea was met by deafening silence by everyone else. So we went, and we had a great time. The other dad brought his canoe. His little girl is just a month older than Thumper, and the four of us had a fabulous time.
So why do I find it annoying that the dads' group finally planned an outing, and a spectacular one at that? Because I'd already RSVP'd to the first play date of the brand new playgroup, the third to which I now belong. I didn't want to make a bad impression and back out. And it was fun. We went to the sprinkler park. Thumper has gotten over his fear of lifeguards, and has been having a blast at the pools the last few weeks. And he even got wet at the sprinkler park today. He didn't get upset when he got sprayed or splashed by other kids, either. It's a great relief to know we won't be the only two idiots frying on the untouchably hot playgrounds this summer while everybody else keeps cool in the pool.
So we did the same-old, same-old while the dads all had grand fun without us. Stupid dads' group...
Monday, June 7, 2010
Back in the Swim
Ever since last summer's lifeguard debacle, I've been hoping that he'd forget all about it over the winter. We were careful not to use the L word around him. But every time we went to the playground that's next to the neighborhood pool, he would say, "Nope! No lifeguards today!" He was determined never to forget.
So when school finally ended and the pools all opened up again, I thought the perfect way to help him get over his fear was to make a special occasion out of it. We didn't just go to the pool, we took Freckles and Robert McGee to Volente Beach. It has a 1-foot kiddie pool with a pirate ship in it! It has a bigger pool with frog slide! It has a lakeside beach! And best of all, it would have Freckles and Robert McGee, two of his all-time favorite people in the world!
That morning, as I was dressing him, I told him we were going to pick up his cousins.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To Volente Beach."
"What's Volente Beach?"
"A waterpark."
"What's a waterpark?"
"It's a place that has water slides, and a pirate ship, and pools, and ice cream, and hamburgers and hot dogs, and Freckles and Robert McGee will be there!"
"Does it have lifeguards?"
"Yes."
"Ahhh!!! I don't want to go there!"
But I told him we had to, because we promised the cousins we would. When we picked them up, Robert McGee had swim goggles that fascinated Thumper. I asked him if he needed swim goggles, too, and of course you know that he did. So we stopped on the way to buy him some. And suddenly he was excited again.
At first my hopes were a little dashed because he had no interest in either pool, even with a pirate ship, even with two fabulous cousins. He saw the lifeguards, and was wary, but he didn't panic. He just didn't really want to play in the water. So we took him down to the beach. There were lifeguards there, too, but I told him with his swim goggles we could look for rocks and shells and look for fish swimming in the lake. So in he went, and he had a blast. He bounced, he danced, he sang, he played. He even waved to a lifeguard. He had so much fun, that he didn't want to get out, though we promised him ice cream. Thumper never turns down ice cream!
Since it was such a success, I thought I'd best strike while the iron was hot and get him quick to the scene of the original trauma. I told him we were going to the pool, and he was fine with that. Until we got there. As soon as he saw it, he said, "The pool's closed! No lifeguards today!" I told him it wasn't closed, and he started crying. "I don't want to go in there!"
But I persisted, and we went in. I changed him into his trunks and doused him with sunscreen, and he cried the whole time. Then I pulled out a squirt gun. He brightened immediately.
"I want that!" he said. I gave it to him. "I want water in that!" he said.
"OK, the water's in the pool. Let's go get some." And we did. And he immediately began having fun. It took about 10 minutes to get from sitting on a deck chair with his face in his hands sobbing to standing in chest-high water with a huge grin on his face yelling, "I'm jumping on one feets! I'm jumping on one feets! I'm jumping on one toe!" We were there for two straight hours. I may have been a little premature in declaring redemption last year, but now? Maybe now?
So when school finally ended and the pools all opened up again, I thought the perfect way to help him get over his fear was to make a special occasion out of it. We didn't just go to the pool, we took Freckles and Robert McGee to Volente Beach. It has a 1-foot kiddie pool with a pirate ship in it! It has a bigger pool with frog slide! It has a lakeside beach! And best of all, it would have Freckles and Robert McGee, two of his all-time favorite people in the world!
That morning, as I was dressing him, I told him we were going to pick up his cousins.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To Volente Beach."
"What's Volente Beach?"
"A waterpark."
"What's a waterpark?"
"It's a place that has water slides, and a pirate ship, and pools, and ice cream, and hamburgers and hot dogs, and Freckles and Robert McGee will be there!"
"Does it have lifeguards?"
"Yes."
"Ahhh!!! I don't want to go there!"
But I told him we had to, because we promised the cousins we would. When we picked them up, Robert McGee had swim goggles that fascinated Thumper. I asked him if he needed swim goggles, too, and of course you know that he did. So we stopped on the way to buy him some. And suddenly he was excited again.
At first my hopes were a little dashed because he had no interest in either pool, even with a pirate ship, even with two fabulous cousins. He saw the lifeguards, and was wary, but he didn't panic. He just didn't really want to play in the water. So we took him down to the beach. There were lifeguards there, too, but I told him with his swim goggles we could look for rocks and shells and look for fish swimming in the lake. So in he went, and he had a blast. He bounced, he danced, he sang, he played. He even waved to a lifeguard. He had so much fun, that he didn't want to get out, though we promised him ice cream. Thumper never turns down ice cream!
Since it was such a success, I thought I'd best strike while the iron was hot and get him quick to the scene of the original trauma. I told him we were going to the pool, and he was fine with that. Until we got there. As soon as he saw it, he said, "The pool's closed! No lifeguards today!" I told him it wasn't closed, and he started crying. "I don't want to go in there!"
But I persisted, and we went in. I changed him into his trunks and doused him with sunscreen, and he cried the whole time. Then I pulled out a squirt gun. He brightened immediately.
"I want that!" he said. I gave it to him. "I want water in that!" he said.
"OK, the water's in the pool. Let's go get some." And we did. And he immediately began having fun. It took about 10 minutes to get from sitting on a deck chair with his face in his hands sobbing to standing in chest-high water with a huge grin on his face yelling, "I'm jumping on one feets! I'm jumping on one feets! I'm jumping on one toe!" We were there for two straight hours. I may have been a little premature in declaring redemption last year, but now? Maybe now?
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Seasoned Traveler
On Monday, Thumper and I gave Aerie a couple of nights to herself and flew to Dallas to visit my parents. It was his first airplane trip, and an experiment on my part to see if it would be easier than the three-and-a-half hour drive. When you factor in the airport experience four times, I wouldn't say it was easier, and it certainly wasn't cheaper. But it was an adventure.
He was a little nervous at the Austin airport as we checked our baggage and went through the security line. A TSA employee chatted with us while we waited, though, and Thumper began to relax a bit. He told the guy that we were going to visit Grandma and Grandpa and the Dallas Zoo, and that his favorite animal is the gorilla, who says, "RAHHRRRRRR!!!" He has been given this impression of the gorilla by the very cranky Kerchak in No Nap for Tarzan. As we discussed the impending trip over the past few weeks, he had periodically expressed some trepidation about meeting such cranky animals face to face, but I repeatedly reassured him that zoo gorillas mostly just sit and stare off into space.
Once we got through security ("Why you taking my shoes off?"), Thumper squatted by the window while we waited to board, watching them load luggage into our plane. ("Is that's our plane? Why?") Once we were aboard, he repeatedly asked, "Now are we flying? Now are we flying?" as we taxied around and waited our turn to take off. When the engines began roaring in earnest, he yelled, "What's wrong with the plane?" So if you have a fear of flying, and you were on that flight with us, I apologize. There was not, as I loudly reassured him, anything wrong with the plane.
He was excited by the takeoff, later reporting to Grandma and Grandpa that the plane went really fast, but after that he quickly reverted to boredom, though the apple juice he was served mid-flight cheered him mightily. He was also confused about where exactly Grandma and Grandpa were going to be, thinking they were at the Austin airport, then that they would be on the plane. And since they had outdated info about which terminal we'd arrive at, they weren't there while we waited for our luggage, either. But when he saw them pull up to pick us up curbside, he literally jumped for joy.
We had a lot of fun with Grandma and Grandpa, playing at their house and visiting the zoo. Grandpa cleverly left a Hoppity Ball deflated and lying casually discarded in their living room; Thumper instantly wanted to know what it was, what it was for, and what it did, so he and Grandpa went to the garage to blow it up. Here he is enjoying it while having a conversation with Grandma shortly after she suggested that maybe he not hammer on her wind chime quite so persistently:
The only reason he didn't cover his face as I took that video was that I used my iPod, which he has not yet realized is also a camera.
By the time we visited the zoo, Thumper had missed a couple of naps and had a late night in the hotel, so he was fairly subdued. Luckily, Grandma had the idea of renting a stroller, which saved the day. Thumper rode from exhibit to exhibit, then leaped out of the moving vehicle without warning Grandma, who was driving, to get a look at each animal. There were a couple of school groups there, so sometimes he had to fight for a spot at the glass:
Since he still has an aversion to having his picture taken, all of my zoo shots are of the back of his head. I could get a shot of his face if I got him while his hands were busy:
But then he'd quickly revert to his extremely strict no pictures policy:
And of course, no trip to the zoo would be complete without an in-depth conversation concerning the universal need of all animals to poop and pee:
When we got home, he reported to Aerie that he saw gorillas, but that they did not, surprisingly, "RAHHRRRRRR!!!" at him. So, there. Now he's a seasoned traveler who has experienced a real zoo. I think, though, that some of his favorite moments were the afternoons we spent at the motel, resting and recuperating if not actually napping:
He was a little nervous at the Austin airport as we checked our baggage and went through the security line. A TSA employee chatted with us while we waited, though, and Thumper began to relax a bit. He told the guy that we were going to visit Grandma and Grandpa and the Dallas Zoo, and that his favorite animal is the gorilla, who says, "RAHHRRRRRR!!!" He has been given this impression of the gorilla by the very cranky Kerchak in No Nap for Tarzan. As we discussed the impending trip over the past few weeks, he had periodically expressed some trepidation about meeting such cranky animals face to face, but I repeatedly reassured him that zoo gorillas mostly just sit and stare off into space.
Once we got through security ("Why you taking my shoes off?"), Thumper squatted by the window while we waited to board, watching them load luggage into our plane. ("Is that's our plane? Why?") Once we were aboard, he repeatedly asked, "Now are we flying? Now are we flying?" as we taxied around and waited our turn to take off. When the engines began roaring in earnest, he yelled, "What's wrong with the plane?" So if you have a fear of flying, and you were on that flight with us, I apologize. There was not, as I loudly reassured him, anything wrong with the plane.
He was excited by the takeoff, later reporting to Grandma and Grandpa that the plane went really fast, but after that he quickly reverted to boredom, though the apple juice he was served mid-flight cheered him mightily. He was also confused about where exactly Grandma and Grandpa were going to be, thinking they were at the Austin airport, then that they would be on the plane. And since they had outdated info about which terminal we'd arrive at, they weren't there while we waited for our luggage, either. But when he saw them pull up to pick us up curbside, he literally jumped for joy.
We had a lot of fun with Grandma and Grandpa, playing at their house and visiting the zoo. Grandpa cleverly left a Hoppity Ball deflated and lying casually discarded in their living room; Thumper instantly wanted to know what it was, what it was for, and what it did, so he and Grandpa went to the garage to blow it up. Here he is enjoying it while having a conversation with Grandma shortly after she suggested that maybe he not hammer on her wind chime quite so persistently:
The only reason he didn't cover his face as I took that video was that I used my iPod, which he has not yet realized is also a camera.
By the time we visited the zoo, Thumper had missed a couple of naps and had a late night in the hotel, so he was fairly subdued. Luckily, Grandma had the idea of renting a stroller, which saved the day. Thumper rode from exhibit to exhibit, then leaped out of the moving vehicle without warning Grandma, who was driving, to get a look at each animal. There were a couple of school groups there, so sometimes he had to fight for a spot at the glass:
Since he still has an aversion to having his picture taken, all of my zoo shots are of the back of his head. I could get a shot of his face if I got him while his hands were busy:
But then he'd quickly revert to his extremely strict no pictures policy:
And of course, no trip to the zoo would be complete without an in-depth conversation concerning the universal need of all animals to poop and pee:
When we got home, he reported to Aerie that he saw gorillas, but that they did not, surprisingly, "RAHHRRRRRR!!!" at him. So, there. Now he's a seasoned traveler who has experienced a real zoo. I think, though, that some of his favorite moments were the afternoons we spent at the motel, resting and recuperating if not actually napping:
Friday, May 21, 2010
How We're Spending Our Days
Ever since we went to that flea market, we've been doing a lot of this:
And I mean a lot. As in every single day, for at least an hour and sometimes more. A little over a week ago, we ran into a dad at the playground at Central Market and his daughter, who was just about Thumper's age. She had a LIKEaBIKE that Thumper absolutely loved. They kindly let him give it a try while the dad told me about his three kids who were all riding two-wheel pedal bikes without training wheels after learning to balance on that unusual contraption. When I got home, I looked them up. After choking on the $400 price tag, I looked up "balance bike" on Craigslist and found a used Park Racer for a much more palatable $35. So we got it.
He loves his new "cheetah bike" and is the envy of the neighborhood kids, even the big kids who already know how to ride a two-wheeler without training wheels. So now we have to drag both bikes around with us whenever we play on our street or at the playgrounds. After a week, he's getting pretty good at coasting, and can even make some long, graceful, looping turns with his feet up.
I tried to get some video, but he still refuses to let me take his picture. This is the conversation we have every time I pull the camera out:
And I mean a lot. As in every single day, for at least an hour and sometimes more. A little over a week ago, we ran into a dad at the playground at Central Market and his daughter, who was just about Thumper's age. She had a LIKEaBIKE that Thumper absolutely loved. They kindly let him give it a try while the dad told me about his three kids who were all riding two-wheel pedal bikes without training wheels after learning to balance on that unusual contraption. When I got home, I looked them up. After choking on the $400 price tag, I looked up "balance bike" on Craigslist and found a used Park Racer for a much more palatable $35. So we got it.
He loves his new "cheetah bike" and is the envy of the neighborhood kids, even the big kids who already know how to ride a two-wheeler without training wheels. So now we have to drag both bikes around with us whenever we play on our street or at the playgrounds. After a week, he's getting pretty good at coasting, and can even make some long, graceful, looping turns with his feet up.
I tried to get some video, but he still refuses to let me take his picture. This is the conversation we have every time I pull the camera out:
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Lifeguard III: The Redemption
So we jogged to the playground this morning. As the clock ticked past 10, the lifeguards started showing up for work at the adjacent pool. We ambled over and watched them work from outside the fence. We counted them. There were four. One had a broom. One had a big broom. One had a hose. We talked about how they were sweeping; they were cleaning up; they were getting the pool ready for the kids.
Eventually Thumper started talking to them. "Hi! Hi! Hi, Lifeguard! Hi!" The lifeguard responded, but didn't come near. No one poked him.
I asked if we could look at a tube. "What, like, just to look at?" said the lifeguard. Yes, just to look at. So she passed one through the fence. I set it down, and asked Thumper if he wanted to touch it.
"No." he said. So I left it there. After a few minutes, of course, he couldn't resist. He touched it. We talked about it. I told him it helps people swim, like his Noodle.
"Swim, like a Noodle!" he said. "It not hurt you!" he said.
"No," I said, "it won't hurt you. The lifeguards use it help people."
And so on, for a half hour or so. We watched; we talked.
"He's got a broom! He's sweeping! Like a Noodle! It not hurt you!"
So hopefully that went a ways towards desensitization. I'm thinking we'll try the pool again after we go to the gym tomorrow. Maybe, just maybe, the sight of a lifeguard won't send him right over the edge this time. Maybe.
Eventually Thumper started talking to them. "Hi! Hi! Hi, Lifeguard! Hi!" The lifeguard responded, but didn't come near. No one poked him.
I asked if we could look at a tube. "What, like, just to look at?" said the lifeguard. Yes, just to look at. So she passed one through the fence. I set it down, and asked Thumper if he wanted to touch it.
"No." he said. So I left it there. After a few minutes, of course, he couldn't resist. He touched it. We talked about it. I told him it helps people swim, like his Noodle.
"Swim, like a Noodle!" he said. "It not hurt you!" he said.
"No," I said, "it won't hurt you. The lifeguards use it help people."
And so on, for a half hour or so. We watched; we talked.
"He's got a broom! He's sweeping! Like a Noodle! It not hurt you!"
So hopefully that went a ways towards desensitization. I'm thinking we'll try the pool again after we go to the gym tomorrow. Maybe, just maybe, the sight of a lifeguard won't send him right over the edge this time. Maybe.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Lifeguard! He's So Silly
I've tried two more times to take the boy to a pool, but once he sees a lifeguard, it's all over. Today he started to lose it in the locker room, but I managed to calm him down and get him changed. We've talked several times about lifeguards. I call them friends. I call them nice. I say they help people. I say I like lifeguards.
"I like lifeguards, too!" he says. Or sometimes he says, "Lifeguard! He's so silly!" So I thought maybe we could do it today. But as soon as he saw one, he was done again, crying hysterically and saying, "Put on shirt? Go home?"
So I dressed him, picked him up, and headed toward the exit. On the way, though, I stopped by one of the female lifeguards. I told her lifeguards make him nervous and asked if he could touch her tube. She took her sunglasses off and talked to him. Of course, she had to poke him a couple of times, too. I don't know what it is with the poking. Anyway, he stayed calm, but he didn't want to look at her or talk to her. He did touch the tube once, though. So maybe that's progress. I guess we'll keep trying.
"I like lifeguards, too!" he says. Or sometimes he says, "Lifeguard! He's so silly!" So I thought maybe we could do it today. But as soon as he saw one, he was done again, crying hysterically and saying, "Put on shirt? Go home?"
So I dressed him, picked him up, and headed toward the exit. On the way, though, I stopped by one of the female lifeguards. I told her lifeguards make him nervous and asked if he could touch her tube. She took her sunglasses off and talked to him. Of course, she had to poke him a couple of times, too. I don't know what it is with the poking. Anyway, he stayed calm, but he didn't want to look at her or talk to her. He did touch the tube once, though. So maybe that's progress. I guess we'll keep trying.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Seriously. Quit Poking Him.
I took Thumper swimming yesterday. Or tried to, anyway. We've been more than a few times this summer, to two different pools, and he loves it. When I asked him yesterday if he wanted to go swimming, he was thrilled. I asked him what swim suit he wanted, and he picked out the blue trunks with the fishies swimming on them. When we got to the pool, he marched right up to the gate, carrying his Noodle.
When we got past the gate, he asked, "Where's the lifeguard?" I pointed out the one in this chair, and the one in that chair, and the one over there hosing off the deck. "Yeah!" he said. "It's a hose!" We found a seat in the shade, I stripped him down, put on his swim diaper, and was just pulling up his trunks when he freaked out. He so loudly and suddenly burst into frantic tears, that he made me jump. My first thought was that he'd been stung by a bee. Well, actually, my first thought was that I'd accidentally squashed his cojones when I was pulling up his trunks, but he hadn't a mark on him, and he didn't seem particularly focused on the groinal region.
He crushed himself to my chest, and I asked him what was wrong. Did he have a boo boo? What happened? He wouldn't say; he just kept repeating, "Put your shirt on? Put your shirt on?" Now, I wouldn't be surprised if me taking my shirt off caused someone to scream at the pool, but my shirt was still on. With his confusion over pronouns, he was telling me he wanted to put his shirt back on. When I did, he said, "Go home." Do you want to go home? "Yeah." OK.
As soon as I said, "OK," he calmed down. So we switched him back out of his swim diaper and into a regular one, put his shorts and shoes back on, and left. By the time we were finally walking out, he seemed fine again, even cheerful. I asked him several more times what happened, but he has never said. I don't have a clue what happened.
OK, that's not true, I do have a clue. On the walk back to the car, he said, "Met the lifeguard!" And I thought, "Aha!" The last time we went to that pool, he saw one of the lifeguards squatting in the shallow end near us with his whistle in his mouth, his bright red rescue floatation device at his chest, and his huge, reflective aviator sunglasses on. The lifeguard noticed Thumper staring at him and took an interest. He talked to him. He showed him his whistle. He told us he goes through quite a few of them, because with a whistle in your mouth all the time, it's hard not to chew on it. He explained that the floatation device was called a "tube." But while he talked, he kept sort of prodding Thumper with the tube. Gently, but repeatedly. The more he did it, the more nervous Thumper got. When he's nervous, he tilts his head down, opens his mouth, and kind of pulls his lips in tight, like this, only more so. And recently he's begun putting one hand up to his mouth, too. Often people think it's a cute face and it encourages them to continue interacting with him, but to me it clearly says, "Oh, hi! You know, you're kind of weirding me out. Maybe you could back off a little bit?" This is a signal not understood by the little old lady at the senior center yesterday who kept saying, "Come here! Come here!" and trying to reach out and grab his hand. It's a signal also not understood by the usher in line in front of me at event signup today who kept poking him in the belly and saying, "What's your name? If I push your belly, does your tongue come out?" The answer was, "No, but my anxiety level begins to rise. See?" Strangers apparently like to poke toddlers. And give them candy. Or cookies. Or both.
So anyway, back to the pool. The lifeguards eventually rotate posts and the prodder goes away, and we go home to meet Mama for dinner, and Thumper mentions several times over the next few days how we, "Met the lifeguard!" It didn't seem like he'd been too traumatized by the experience, but it had definitely made an impression on him.
Well, when I was putting his trunks on him yesterday, I noticed the same lifeguard in the same giant aviator sunglasses. He was NOT one of the ones we saw when we came in. He was on the other side of the pool, posted by the water slides. And Thumper was looking over in that direction when he lost it.
A YMCA lifeguard terrified my son.
When we got past the gate, he asked, "Where's the lifeguard?" I pointed out the one in this chair, and the one in that chair, and the one over there hosing off the deck. "Yeah!" he said. "It's a hose!" We found a seat in the shade, I stripped him down, put on his swim diaper, and was just pulling up his trunks when he freaked out. He so loudly and suddenly burst into frantic tears, that he made me jump. My first thought was that he'd been stung by a bee. Well, actually, my first thought was that I'd accidentally squashed his cojones when I was pulling up his trunks, but he hadn't a mark on him, and he didn't seem particularly focused on the groinal region.
He crushed himself to my chest, and I asked him what was wrong. Did he have a boo boo? What happened? He wouldn't say; he just kept repeating, "Put your shirt on? Put your shirt on?" Now, I wouldn't be surprised if me taking my shirt off caused someone to scream at the pool, but my shirt was still on. With his confusion over pronouns, he was telling me he wanted to put his shirt back on. When I did, he said, "Go home." Do you want to go home? "Yeah." OK.
As soon as I said, "OK," he calmed down. So we switched him back out of his swim diaper and into a regular one, put his shorts and shoes back on, and left. By the time we were finally walking out, he seemed fine again, even cheerful. I asked him several more times what happened, but he has never said. I don't have a clue what happened.
OK, that's not true, I do have a clue. On the walk back to the car, he said, "Met the lifeguard!" And I thought, "Aha!" The last time we went to that pool, he saw one of the lifeguards squatting in the shallow end near us with his whistle in his mouth, his bright red rescue floatation device at his chest, and his huge, reflective aviator sunglasses on. The lifeguard noticed Thumper staring at him and took an interest. He talked to him. He showed him his whistle. He told us he goes through quite a few of them, because with a whistle in your mouth all the time, it's hard not to chew on it. He explained that the floatation device was called a "tube." But while he talked, he kept sort of prodding Thumper with the tube. Gently, but repeatedly. The more he did it, the more nervous Thumper got. When he's nervous, he tilts his head down, opens his mouth, and kind of pulls his lips in tight, like this, only more so. And recently he's begun putting one hand up to his mouth, too. Often people think it's a cute face and it encourages them to continue interacting with him, but to me it clearly says, "Oh, hi! You know, you're kind of weirding me out. Maybe you could back off a little bit?" This is a signal not understood by the little old lady at the senior center yesterday who kept saying, "Come here! Come here!" and trying to reach out and grab his hand. It's a signal also not understood by the usher in line in front of me at event signup today who kept poking him in the belly and saying, "What's your name? If I push your belly, does your tongue come out?" The answer was, "No, but my anxiety level begins to rise. See?" Strangers apparently like to poke toddlers. And give them candy. Or cookies. Or both.
So anyway, back to the pool. The lifeguards eventually rotate posts and the prodder goes away, and we go home to meet Mama for dinner, and Thumper mentions several times over the next few days how we, "Met the lifeguard!" It didn't seem like he'd been too traumatized by the experience, but it had definitely made an impression on him.
Well, when I was putting his trunks on him yesterday, I noticed the same lifeguard in the same giant aviator sunglasses. He was NOT one of the ones we saw when we came in. He was on the other side of the pool, posted by the water slides. And Thumper was looking over in that direction when he lost it.
A YMCA lifeguard terrified my son.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Stuff! He's! Allowed! To! Touch!
For his birthday, Uncle Big Brother and Auntie Social Worker Sister-in-Law got Thumper a membership to the Austin Children's Museum, so today we broke it in. There was a garage that we could supposedly park in for $3, but it was full, so I parked in one another couple of blocks away since I hadn't planned ahead well enough to have meter change in the car.
First, we picnicked in Republic Square. We sat in the shade next to the fountain and shared some lunch while we talked about the fountain and the buildings and the cars and the nasty, mangy pigeons that hung around looking like they were up to no good. The way Thumper eats, I'm sure they thoroughly enjoyed the rest of his food after we left. Then we returned our lunch stuff to the car, where I made him suffer the indignity of changing his diaper on the trunk, and I gave him a shoulder ride to the museum. I wasn't sure what the parking situation would be for strollers at the museum, but I needn't have worried: there were strollers abandoned around every corner in the joint.
Still, the shoulder ride was fun, and we gave more than a couple bus-waitin' folk and panhandlin' folk a smile or two on our way. And Thumper busted out in a big grin whenever we got a good look at our reflection in a window. But of course, I was sweating in embarrassing profusion by the time we got there, so after converting our gift certificate into a member card, we decided to start slowly in the gated toddler area. He was thrilled. He could've stayed there all day, but it also seemed to be the dumping area for diaper bags, so when I got tired of stopping him from swiping everybody else's sippy cups, we decided to see what else we could see.
We never got past the "Play It By Ear" exhibit. It was full! Of stuff! Stuff he could touch! And nobody stopped him! And it was loud! And there were kids! Running everywhere! Kids! He was quite wound up and didn't know what to do with himself. We stopped for a moment at the "Which Way Is Which?" display, which consisted of headphones with plastic hoses coming out of them, and funnels on the ends of the hoses. The idea was to mess with your perception of where sound is coming from by redirecting the soundwaves. I put a set on his head, and he got very still as his eyes got bigger and bigger until he just had to throw them down. Then I'd put them on my head, and he'd laugh until he just had to pull them off and throw them down.
Quickly he became overwhelmed and went back to the relative calm of the toddler area, but not before becoming fascinated with a child in a stroller who was somehow sleeping through the cacophony. When I explained, "He's sleeping," and made it clear I didn't want Thumper touching him, it was back to the safety of fenced-in youngster land.
So, thanks Big Brother and SWSIL. I think over the next year he'll get used to it and want to explore further and further afield. And I think I can bring up to 4 kids with my membership, so maybe we'll spend some of our last summer days with the cousins there. They can show him the finer points of enjoying the Children's Museum. But I'll have to stock the car up with quarters. We parked for 2 1/2 hours, and it cost us $13.50. $13.50! That's the most expensive free museum trip we've ever had. RadiJazz was practically a bargain!
First, we picnicked in Republic Square. We sat in the shade next to the fountain and shared some lunch while we talked about the fountain and the buildings and the cars and the nasty, mangy pigeons that hung around looking like they were up to no good. The way Thumper eats, I'm sure they thoroughly enjoyed the rest of his food after we left. Then we returned our lunch stuff to the car, where I made him suffer the indignity of changing his diaper on the trunk, and I gave him a shoulder ride to the museum. I wasn't sure what the parking situation would be for strollers at the museum, but I needn't have worried: there were strollers abandoned around every corner in the joint.
Still, the shoulder ride was fun, and we gave more than a couple bus-waitin' folk and panhandlin' folk a smile or two on our way. And Thumper busted out in a big grin whenever we got a good look at our reflection in a window. But of course, I was sweating in embarrassing profusion by the time we got there, so after converting our gift certificate into a member card, we decided to start slowly in the gated toddler area. He was thrilled. He could've stayed there all day, but it also seemed to be the dumping area for diaper bags, so when I got tired of stopping him from swiping everybody else's sippy cups, we decided to see what else we could see.
We never got past the "Play It By Ear" exhibit. It was full! Of stuff! Stuff he could touch! And nobody stopped him! And it was loud! And there were kids! Running everywhere! Kids! He was quite wound up and didn't know what to do with himself. We stopped for a moment at the "Which Way Is Which?" display, which consisted of headphones with plastic hoses coming out of them, and funnels on the ends of the hoses. The idea was to mess with your perception of where sound is coming from by redirecting the soundwaves. I put a set on his head, and he got very still as his eyes got bigger and bigger until he just had to throw them down. Then I'd put them on my head, and he'd laugh until he just had to pull them off and throw them down.
Quickly he became overwhelmed and went back to the relative calm of the toddler area, but not before becoming fascinated with a child in a stroller who was somehow sleeping through the cacophony. When I explained, "He's sleeping," and made it clear I didn't want Thumper touching him, it was back to the safety of fenced-in youngster land.
So, thanks Big Brother and SWSIL. I think over the next year he'll get used to it and want to explore further and further afield. And I think I can bring up to 4 kids with my membership, so maybe we'll spend some of our last summer days with the cousins there. They can show him the finer points of enjoying the Children's Museum. But I'll have to stock the car up with quarters. We parked for 2 1/2 hours, and it cost us $13.50. $13.50! That's the most expensive free museum trip we've ever had. RadiJazz was practically a bargain!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Kid Swap
Today I took Robert McGee and Freckles to Volente Beach as a reward for good behavior during our time together this summer. Their mom, Social Worker Sister-in-Law ("SWSIL") took the day off and kept Thumper all day so that we wouldn't have to stop the fun for baby feedings and baby naps and baby diapers. Thumper had a fabulous time; he didn't stop talking about it from the time I picked him up to the time I put him to bed. In fact he's probably still in there talking about it. Of course, I still don't know what all they did, because I can't understand a word he's saying.
Volente Beach was a fabulous time, too. I should tell you about it, about how I got sunburned despite copious coatings of sunblock. About how Robert McGee and I almost went right over the top on the Sidewinder! Twice! About how Freckles bathing suit was full of sand and how she almost lost her brand new Kit Kittredge t-shirt, but didn't. And how Texas Twister was closed, probably because somebody got stuck in the middle, or maybe got their head chopped off, or ran into a giant spider, or maybe just kept spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning...
I should tell you how Aerie's out of town working, and how as soon as we pulled into the garage, Thumper asked, "Mama?" And when we came in, he looked out the back door and asked, "Mama?" And how he grinned when he heard her voice on the phone when she called to kiss him goodnight. I should tell you about all of it, but now that the boy's in bed, I've got to shower all the sand and lake water off me, and I've got copy to write, and a bagful of dirty diapers and leftover Thumper food to unpack, and a kitchen floorful of pots, pans, and Tupperware to put away that Thumper played with this morning while I packed his bags, and a breakfast to pack for him to eat while we get our oil changed tomorrow, and a zzzzzzzzzzzz.....
Volente Beach was a fabulous time, too. I should tell you about it, about how I got sunburned despite copious coatings of sunblock. About how Robert McGee and I almost went right over the top on the Sidewinder! Twice! About how Freckles bathing suit was full of sand and how she almost lost her brand new Kit Kittredge t-shirt, but didn't. And how Texas Twister was closed, probably because somebody got stuck in the middle, or maybe got their head chopped off, or ran into a giant spider, or maybe just kept spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning...
I should tell you how Aerie's out of town working, and how as soon as we pulled into the garage, Thumper asked, "Mama?" And when we came in, he looked out the back door and asked, "Mama?" And how he grinned when he heard her voice on the phone when she called to kiss him goodnight. I should tell you about all of it, but now that the boy's in bed, I've got to shower all the sand and lake water off me, and I've got copy to write, and a bagful of dirty diapers and leftover Thumper food to unpack, and a kitchen floorful of pots, pans, and Tupperware to put away that Thumper played with this morning while I packed his bags, and a breakfast to pack for him to eat while we get our oil changed tomorrow, and a zzzzzzzzzzzz.....
Monday, July 21, 2008
Our Morning at the Playground
"Rock. Rock. Pecan. No, don't eat it. Don't eat it. Careful, there's a step there. No, don't eat it. Wanna slide? Wheee! Don't eat it. Stick. Careful, there's a step there. Don't eat it. There's still a step there. You OK? No, don't eat it. Leave your shoes on. Doggie. Doggie. Birdie. No, don't eat it. No, yucky. Want some water? No, don't eat it."
Exeunt.
You know, if you take a kid who walks like a drunken sailor even on carpet in his bare feet, then put shoes on him and stick him in ankle-deep gravel, suddenly he's bustin' out the John Ritter pratfalls all over the place.
Exeunt.
You know, if you take a kid who walks like a drunken sailor even on carpet in his bare feet, then put shoes on him and stick him in ankle-deep gravel, suddenly he's bustin' out the John Ritter pratfalls all over the place.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Summer Summer Toots, It Wouldn't Be Summer Without Them
This was the first week of our regular summer "Babysittin' the Cousins" schedule. Because each day started with picking the kids up after school, we had been doing all of our babysittin' at their house. Now that they're out of school, though, we're doing two days at their house and one at ours. I gotta say, I like the day at our house. Freckles told me that she had been looking forward to seeing Thumper "in his natural environment." I don't know if she's making a documentary or what she may have learned about him from her observations, but it certainly is easier for me to take care of him in his natural environment, mostly because I don't have to haul two or three bags of baby shtuff and a portable crib around. I also want to tell you that Freckles, after walking through our front door, exclaimed, "You’ve even got a baby, and your house is still WAY cleaner than ours!" But I think it would be rude to mention that, and I don't want anyone to think that I'm being prideful or unpleasantly critical of someone else. So I won't. Mention it, that is.
I think this summer needs a name. I've been thinking about "The Summer of Cousins," because not only are we babysittin' two cousins, a third has been joining us on several of our excursions. The Dallas elements of the family will also be coming to Austin to enjoy a day at the lake with us, so we have a pretty good chance of shoving a few more of 'em into our "Summer of Cousins." Freckles asked me what my other nephew was to them on the way to pick him up. I told them I didn't know. Second cousins? Removed cousins? Those are phrases I hear all the time, but I have know idea what they actually mean. I told them I'd have to look it up. I probably won't. I'm lazy like that.
What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, the summer needs a name. It's "The Summer of Cousins," but it also is shaping up to look a lot like "The Summer of the Pools." On Wednesday, when we were talking about going to the pool in our subdivision, Freckles and Robert McGee told me that they'd been to a pool every day since Sunday. I said, "Oh, well, if you're sick of swimming we can find something else to do." No no! They were going for a record! It was their ambition to dip their bodies into one pool or another every single day for a week. For at least a week. We wish them well in their ambition, but since it's just Thumper and I today, we're going to stay as far away from the pool as possible. Maybe we'll see what he thinks of RadiJazz. Although, if I raise the stakes like that, he may never be satisfied with the mall playground again.
So, yeah. Cousins steeping in pools. Baking in the sun. The Summer of:
Cousin Soup?
Cousin Tea?
Cousin Suntea?
Or maybe "Rootin' Tootin' Summer." As I may have mentioned, Thumper's been regularly testing the containment capacity of his diapers. We've suddenly found ourselves on constant overflow watch here. And it's not just the cloth diapers; we tried a couple different brands of disposables, including the extra-absorbent overnight variety, and still, each morning a sense of expectant dread drifts through the house as we approach his bedroom door: will it be a toxic Superfund site today?
So naturally, we watch him closely for the Sign of the Poop, any sign, no matter how subtle. Yesterday, at Little Stacy, a thoughtful, faraway look came into his eyes, and I felt his abdomen tighten up. We were out of the pool quicker than if the lifeguard had shouted, "Lightning!" Luckily, we didn't contaminate the water. I'm pretty sure that would be embarrassing.
We're constantly sniffing him, too. I don't know how many times I've said recently, "Nope, no poop. He must just be gassy." It must be annoying when you do your best to quietly, discretely let one slip, and bam! you find yourself face-down with someone peering into your underwear.
And speaking of discrete, Robert McGee was, uh, bakin' some brownies yesterday. Knowing him, as I do, to be a seven-year-old boy, I was pleasantly surprised that he did not make loud and vulgar mirth from the situation. He and I both quietly pretended that we did not hear anything. Twice. I even refrained from instructing him to excuse himself for fear of drawing attention to the undeniable humor inherent to that noise. I figure that if I don't want to be called out on mine, I best not call anyone else out on theirs. Except for Thumper. If he rips one, you can bet he'll be shooting straight up off that white carpet like a rocket, tout de suite!
I think this summer needs a name. I've been thinking about "The Summer of Cousins," because not only are we babysittin' two cousins, a third has been joining us on several of our excursions. The Dallas elements of the family will also be coming to Austin to enjoy a day at the lake with us, so we have a pretty good chance of shoving a few more of 'em into our "Summer of Cousins." Freckles asked me what my other nephew was to them on the way to pick him up. I told them I didn't know. Second cousins? Removed cousins? Those are phrases I hear all the time, but I have know idea what they actually mean. I told them I'd have to look it up. I probably won't. I'm lazy like that.
What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, the summer needs a name. It's "The Summer of Cousins," but it also is shaping up to look a lot like "The Summer of the Pools." On Wednesday, when we were talking about going to the pool in our subdivision, Freckles and Robert McGee told me that they'd been to a pool every day since Sunday. I said, "Oh, well, if you're sick of swimming we can find something else to do." No no! They were going for a record! It was their ambition to dip their bodies into one pool or another every single day for a week. For at least a week. We wish them well in their ambition, but since it's just Thumper and I today, we're going to stay as far away from the pool as possible. Maybe we'll see what he thinks of RadiJazz. Although, if I raise the stakes like that, he may never be satisfied with the mall playground again.
So, yeah. Cousins steeping in pools. Baking in the sun. The Summer of:
Cousin Soup?
Cousin Tea?
Cousin Suntea?
Or maybe "Rootin' Tootin' Summer." As I may have mentioned, Thumper's been regularly testing the containment capacity of his diapers. We've suddenly found ourselves on constant overflow watch here. And it's not just the cloth diapers; we tried a couple different brands of disposables, including the extra-absorbent overnight variety, and still, each morning a sense of expectant dread drifts through the house as we approach his bedroom door: will it be a toxic Superfund site today?
So naturally, we watch him closely for the Sign of the Poop, any sign, no matter how subtle. Yesterday, at Little Stacy, a thoughtful, faraway look came into his eyes, and I felt his abdomen tighten up. We were out of the pool quicker than if the lifeguard had shouted, "Lightning!" Luckily, we didn't contaminate the water. I'm pretty sure that would be embarrassing.
We're constantly sniffing him, too. I don't know how many times I've said recently, "Nope, no poop. He must just be gassy." It must be annoying when you do your best to quietly, discretely let one slip, and bam! you find yourself face-down with someone peering into your underwear.
And speaking of discrete, Robert McGee was, uh, bakin' some brownies yesterday. Knowing him, as I do, to be a seven-year-old boy, I was pleasantly surprised that he did not make loud and vulgar mirth from the situation. He and I both quietly pretended that we did not hear anything. Twice. I even refrained from instructing him to excuse himself for fear of drawing attention to the undeniable humor inherent to that noise. I figure that if I don't want to be called out on mine, I best not call anyone else out on theirs. Except for Thumper. If he rips one, you can bet he'll be shooting straight up off that white carpet like a rocket, tout de suite!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Too Long for Twitter
Somehow I thought SPF50 sunblock (UVA AND UVB!) would keep the boy as lily-white as his Mama. Turns out two or three hours a week at the pool or the water playscape is cooking him into a lovely nut-brown color. He's got Coppertone white-butt tan lines! For some reason that tickles me.
What Life's Like in Mrs. Rodius' World (or Yet Another Reason Why I'm Glad I'm not a Woman): shampoos must be rotated. Apparently, every shampoo leaves behind a residue that slowly builds up. No, a shampoo cannot wash out its own residue, or it wouldn't be leaving one in the first place. Duh! But oddly enough, each shampoo can wash out other shampoos' residues. So you gotta rotate the stock, baby! Man, it's complicated being a woman.
What Life's Like in Mrs. Rodius' World (or Yet Another Reason Why I'm Glad I'm not a Woman): shampoos must be rotated. Apparently, every shampoo leaves behind a residue that slowly builds up. No, a shampoo cannot wash out its own residue, or it wouldn't be leaving one in the first place. Duh! But oddly enough, each shampoo can wash out other shampoos' residues. So you gotta rotate the stock, baby! Man, it's complicated being a woman.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Oh, You Know, This and That
This morning I finally hit ten pounds lost since the boy was born. A pound a month isn't a great rate, but it's better than nothing. And better than gaining. I didn't, as I hoped, get to the point before summer arrived where I'm not self-conscious about taking off my shirt at the pool. Thumper loves the pools, as do Freckles and Robert McGee, so we'll be spending a lot of time at them this summer. I guess I have to keep trying, and also try to get to the point where I don't worry about what other people think. It's not like everybody else out there is a swimsuit model.
I gave Thumper his first haircut last night. It was hanging over his ears. The Mrs. and I periodically mentioned that we should do something about it, but it seemed like it would be hard to accomplish on a squirming infant, so we never followed through. I told her I could just buzz it all off like I do with my own, but she wasn't keen on that idea. So last night, I had a few drinks, took the sharp, steely, slicing implement in shaking fingers, and let fly. Just kidding; I only had one drink. I trimmed over his ears and straightened out his bangs where his widow's peak made them uneven. Actually, they're still uneven. It's hard to cut a squirming infant's hair. I kind of regret doing it now; I think I Delilahed his Samsony cuteness. He looks like he's moved a bit down the scale from babyish to boyish.
I haven't been blogging or twittering much. I've just kinda been laying low. I've been thinking a lot about the portions of What the Fuck Do We Know? that deal with shaping one's own reality and about how people repeat the same behaviors because they've established neural net patterns and they're addicted to the brain chemicals that result from those behaviors. I've also been playing a lot of Scarface. These two things don't exactly go together very well, but when I found out that the latest in my beloved Grand Theft Auto series, GTA IV will not be available on Playstation 2, and simultaneously realized that I have no interest in purchasing a PS3 or XBox, or Wii, or whatever else, I used the last trade-in credits that I was saving for GTA IV on the closest thing I could find: Scarface. Last night I folded some diapers, then killed the Diaz brothers with a chainsaw. After that, I folded some more diapers, then took over the coke warehouse. It's cathartic, but not very New Agey.
I thought I was going to blog about What the Fuck Do We Know?, but by now I think it's gone the way of the review I was going to write for The Time Traveler's Wife: by the time I got around to it, the moment had passed.
I also thought I was going to blog about what Now Me thinks of 1995 Me and the paper he wrote, but it turns out I don't have that much to say. It was a paper written five months before I was married and twelve years before I actually became a househusband. The part about the fear of being perceived as gay is a little stupid, but I guess the movement from "househusband" = "less manly," to "less manly" = "gay" makes sense in a way. I do feel awkward being the only dad sometimes, but I don't feel a loss of respect, but it is twelve years later, and I doubt that it could still be said that "[s]tatistically, few men enter into the role of househusband completely voluntarily." I get Tracey's thoughts on gender socialization and how I omitted any consideration of same-sex couples, but I think it was outside the scope of the paper since it focused on reversing gender roles in heterosexual couples that had previously embraced more traditional gender roles. I also think it's part of her template to be ever-vigilant for racism/sexism/homophobism. And in my opinion, her illustrative boy being raised by lesbians mothers is still likely be socialized toward traditional male gender roles by one or the other of those mothers anyway. At least, that's what my experience with lesbian couples leads me to believe. But perhaps that's homophobic to say. Still, I'm glad she read it and had something to say about it. Thanks, Tracey!
We'll be at the Brushy Creek Lake Park water playscape around 12:30 today. Stop by and say hello. It's a good time.
I gave Thumper his first haircut last night. It was hanging over his ears. The Mrs. and I periodically mentioned that we should do something about it, but it seemed like it would be hard to accomplish on a squirming infant, so we never followed through. I told her I could just buzz it all off like I do with my own, but she wasn't keen on that idea. So last night, I had a few drinks, took the sharp, steely, slicing implement in shaking fingers, and let fly. Just kidding; I only had one drink. I trimmed over his ears and straightened out his bangs where his widow's peak made them uneven. Actually, they're still uneven. It's hard to cut a squirming infant's hair. I kind of regret doing it now; I think I Delilahed his Samsony cuteness. He looks like he's moved a bit down the scale from babyish to boyish.
I haven't been blogging or twittering much. I've just kinda been laying low. I've been thinking a lot about the portions of What the Fuck Do We Know? that deal with shaping one's own reality and about how people repeat the same behaviors because they've established neural net patterns and they're addicted to the brain chemicals that result from those behaviors. I've also been playing a lot of Scarface. These two things don't exactly go together very well, but when I found out that the latest in my beloved Grand Theft Auto series, GTA IV will not be available on Playstation 2, and simultaneously realized that I have no interest in purchasing a PS3 or XBox, or Wii, or whatever else, I used the last trade-in credits that I was saving for GTA IV on the closest thing I could find: Scarface. Last night I folded some diapers, then killed the Diaz brothers with a chainsaw. After that, I folded some more diapers, then took over the coke warehouse. It's cathartic, but not very New Agey.
I thought I was going to blog about What the Fuck Do We Know?, but by now I think it's gone the way of the review I was going to write for The Time Traveler's Wife: by the time I got around to it, the moment had passed.
I also thought I was going to blog about what Now Me thinks of 1995 Me and the paper he wrote, but it turns out I don't have that much to say. It was a paper written five months before I was married and twelve years before I actually became a househusband. The part about the fear of being perceived as gay is a little stupid, but I guess the movement from "househusband" = "less manly," to "less manly" = "gay" makes sense in a way. I do feel awkward being the only dad sometimes, but I don't feel a loss of respect, but it is twelve years later, and I doubt that it could still be said that "[s]tatistically, few men enter into the role of househusband completely voluntarily." I get Tracey's thoughts on gender socialization and how I omitted any consideration of same-sex couples, but I think it was outside the scope of the paper since it focused on reversing gender roles in heterosexual couples that had previously embraced more traditional gender roles. I also think it's part of her template to be ever-vigilant for racism/sexism/homophobism. And in my opinion, her illustrative boy being raised by lesbians mothers is still likely be socialized toward traditional male gender roles by one or the other of those mothers anyway. At least, that's what my experience with lesbian couples leads me to believe. But perhaps that's homophobic to say. Still, I'm glad she read it and had something to say about it. Thanks, Tracey!
We'll be at the Brushy Creek Lake Park water playscape around 12:30 today. Stop by and say hello. It's a good time.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Oh Frabjous Day!
(Guest blog entry from Mrs. Rodius. The Man is working a late shift.)
Sometimes, Thumper gets bored. He likes his toys enough. He likes blocks. He likes balls. He really likes his Fisher Price learn to walk/ride basketball thingy-ma-bob and his recently acquired Leap Frog busy table. But, he still gets bored sometimes. And CRANKY. So, today when he was quite done with knocking down blocks and chasing after balls and had had enough of the music and lights of his fancier toys, Thumper got CRANKY. And nothing Mama did was very entertaining. We didn’t know what to do...and then it struck us. It was time to go back to simpler pleasures. Take every pillow in the house and make a pile to climb on! Break out some Tupperware and wooden spoons...
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy.
Sometimes, Thumper gets bored. He likes his toys enough. He likes blocks. He likes balls. He really likes his Fisher Price learn to walk/ride basketball thingy-ma-bob and his recently acquired Leap Frog busy table. But, he still gets bored sometimes. And CRANKY. So, today when he was quite done with knocking down blocks and chasing after balls and had had enough of the music and lights of his fancier toys, Thumper got CRANKY. And nothing Mama did was very entertaining. We didn’t know what to do...and then it struck us. It was time to go back to simpler pleasures. Take every pillow in the house and make a pile to climb on! Break out some Tupperware and wooden spoons...
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy.
Friday, May 23, 2008
New and Improved
Today Thumper enjoyed the New and Improved Water Playscape Experience! Now with Matching Knee Pads!
With a fresh coat of sunblock on him, water beads on him like he's a newly waxed car. This time he was calmer. He acted like he owned the place. He sat in the middle and waved at everyone. I think he felt like he was an old hat at this now, and everyone else must just be discovering the thrill of the water playscape: "Hi, how are ya. Glad you could make it. Welcome. Make yourself at home. Have fun. Good to see you. Thanks for coming." Obama should pick him for a running mate; he's a natural-born glad-hander.
With a fresh coat of sunblock on him, water beads on him like he's a newly waxed car. This time he was calmer. He acted like he owned the place. He sat in the middle and waved at everyone. I think he felt like he was an old hat at this now, and everyone else must just be discovering the thrill of the water playscape: "Hi, how are ya. Glad you could make it. Welcome. Make yourself at home. Have fun. Good to see you. Thanks for coming." Obama should pick him for a running mate; he's a natural-born glad-hander.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
The Greatest Day of His Life So Far
After lunch today, we went to the Water Playscape at Brushy Creek Lake Park. Thumper had no idea such places existed. Though a better photographer would have captured the essence of his joy better than I did, he was thrilled. Elated. Overjoyed. Ecstatic. He crawled and crawled back and forth across the joint until his knees ached (I could tell they were bothering him because by the end, he was crawling a few paces on one knee and one foot, then switching feet, then switching back again. I should buy the kid knee pads just for this place until he learns to walk). He crawled, he splashed, he followed the other kids around. He swiped their toys. The boys swiped them back. The girls gave him other ones. He stopped periodically to lift his face to the sky to roar out his joy. I won't be surprised if he has laryngitis when he wakes up. I won't be surprised if he sleeps three hours. We will definitely be going back.
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