at some point in the early morning, cam brought paul over to our bed. i didn't realize it until a couple of hours later -- cam had already gotten out of bed and started work for the day when paul woke me up.
paul: mommy?
me: hm?
paul: daddy already got up.
me: okay.
paul: i have to get closer to you because i want some warmness.
me: okay, let's snuggle.
tomorrow is my due date, but i don't expect to spend it in the hospital. nope, we'll save that for friday.
tomorrow paul and i are going to spend the day together while cam works from home (his last day before a two-week vacation). i am not sure what we're going to do. we've talked about a walk, i've thought about baking a cake, but chances are just as good that we'll sit on the couch and watch a variety of tivo'd shows about tornadoes. i'm not really sure how the day will go, but i am determined to not take up the day with housework and nesting-type crap when this is the last day that paul will be an only child. it will be a good day, goddammit.
today cam and i talked a little about stuff we'll do once the baby arrives. we'll come along to preschool, i declare bravely, we'll go for picnics, all four of us. we'll fly a kite, cam says, making a mental note to buy a new one because god only knows where the old one went. we smile, but there's a hint of nervous desperation behind it because we know that very soon things will NEVER BE THE SAME. may paul forgive us for what we are about to do to his world.
me: paul, how old are you?
paul: four.
me: four, not forty?
paul: four years old.
me: what do you do when you're four?
paul: supposedly eat all day.
paul: [grinning] couch.
me: sit on the couch?
paul: and do nothing.
paul: crumbs!
paul: crumbs on the couch!
went to paul's preschool today. he's doing so well. he's so adorable. cam's right -- everyone likes paul. he is really destined to be a man coddled by women.
low point: a little girl asked me if i was going to have a baby -- because the teacher was talking to them, i was too afraid to say anything for fear it would be disruptive. she must have thought i was dumb. (i chuckled to (and at) myself later.)
high point: paul's strut. that boy can walk. that will be useful when he grows up.
i brought home the decorations from the baby shower. one of them was a centerpiece -- a heart-shaped "baby" sign mounted on a lavender honeycomb tissue thing. (sorry, i don't know how else to describe it.) paul found it very amusing -- and quickly found a bizarre use for it.
paul: [holding it up] when i put this in front of you, i'm going to marry you, mommy.
what?
cam: you can't marry mommy, that's my job.
paul then spent about 15-20 minutes chasing me around the house to put the centerpiece at my feet. he seemed to have shed his oedipal moment, though, and kept telling cam that it was time to marry me.
today paul tumbled off the edge of the couch and hit the coffee table. the wailing began instantly. i got off the couch and asked him if he was okay. then i picked him up and dusted him off. he continued to wail for another minute, then declared quickly (and sniffily), "i do my own stunts."
alrighty then. guess he was fine.
ate at coco's for dinner tonight. paul was a fabulous eater (and it is always hilarious to hear him order). while he was distracted by something else, i tried to feed him a dark green leaf from his salad. he looked at it and demurred. cam said authoritatively, "he only likes crunchy parts," and guided the fork to a piece of anemic-looking romaine. i raised an eyebrow.
dude. whoever said that mealtimes were only about the things you like?
as i head into the final weeks of my pregnancy, cam has declared that he will get up with our little poor sleeper. he's been really good about it, too. if i hear whimpers in the night, i wake up cam and off he goes.
last night, however, cam was less than willing.
cam: [mumbling] can you go?
so i got my giant self out of bed and hobbled to paul's room.
paul: [crying] my eyelashes are too long.
me: your eyelashes are too long?
paul: can you cut them?
paul: my eyebrows, too.
me: [thinking] baby, you barely have any eyebrows as it is.
me: we'll see what we can do.
i ended up taking him out of bed and cuddling with him in the chair in his room. comforted, he passed out again. i quickly followed suit. about an hour and a half later, i woke up and put him back into his bed (not an easy feat since i'm under 5' without shoes, 37 weeks pregnant and he sleeps in a loft bed). then i staggered back to bed myself.
poor baby. BUT I WILL NOT CUT THOSE BEAUTIFUL EYELASHES. (what kind of dreams do you have?) so there.
paul: what did you do?
me: i had to tell daddy to record something on tv.
paul: what is it?
me: oh, just csi: ciami. [i can't believe we still call it that.]
me: you don't watch that.
paul: yes, i do.
me: you do?
paul: [loftily] i watch various things.
me: that you do.
paul: the funnel cloud moves over the texas panhandle...
no matter what paul says, i think "spring" oreos (the kind with yellow filling) taste just like regular oreos. (the bag even says so: "same great taste!" or some nonsense like that.)
paul: no, it's a little bit different.
maybe he's more discerning than i am -- can he taste a food coloring? -- but i'm the mommy and goddammit, i'm tired of giving in on EVERYTHING. give me this tiny victory, please?
we got new computers at work, so the firm decided to offer the old computers at greatly reduced prices ($175 for laptops, $60 for desktops) to employees. cam said to buy two laptops, one for paul and one for one of his coworkers. i dutifully put in my request... and waited several months to be told i could only have one.
well.
i picked up a laptop yesterday afternoon -- a dell d400. i had actually asked for a d600 (i think?), but after waiting half an hour or so in line (doesn't sound like much, but i'm prone to overheating and lightheadedness these days) and seeing nothing but dinged-up and scratched ones, i pointed at a cute little d400 in some desperation and said, "how about that one?"
me: this is actually for a four-year-old.
it guy: then this is perfect.
i don't think the folks here who actually used these computers would be so pleased to hear that.
on the way back to my desk, i ran into someone from my department. "i just bought a computer for my son," i told her. she sighed at me. guess she didn't consider it a wise purchase.
cam has been setting it up and i think it's going to work really well. paul seems to like having his own computer, and honestly, the idea of NOT sharing mine anymore is a very pleasant thought. $175 is a small price to pay for "mommy's computer" to really be mommy's again. i can't count the times i've settled down to use my laptop only to have a boy commandeer it for playhouse disney.
we spent part of yesterday afternoon at home depot, trying to get paint for the kitchen (touch-ups) and for the crib (i'll talk about this later). while we waited for cam, paul showed me some mickey mouse-shaped paint chips he had picked.
paul: [pointing] this is for me...
me: oh, have you picked your own colors?
me: i've already been thinking about colors for your room.
paul: [confused look] this isn't for my room.
paul: [pointing] that one is for my bed, that one is for the crib and that one is for your bed.
me: wait, wait, hold on.
me: your bed is already painted. [it's whitewashed.]
paul: not really.
paul: when you paint it, it will be beautiful.
how do you argue with that? but then again, how can you paint a BRAND NEW and EXPENSIVE bed? sigh. we brought his paint chips home, but i think maybe i ought to hide them.
last night paul was flipping through a geography pop-up book.
paul: look, it says "amazon."
me: [reading something else] yes, there's a river with that name.
paul: but i was thinking about the store.
the other night paul had an allergic reaction and asked for benadryl. we gave him a dose of the cherry-flavored kind and he unpredictably conked out early. (i say "unpredictably" because this child NEVER passes out post-benadryl. i do every single time, but him? NEVER.)
last night:
paul: i want to have an allergic reaction.
me: why?
me: you want more benadryl?
paul: yes.
paul: it tastes kind of good.
god knows i was surely tempted to drug the child and make an early night of it, but i swear, the idea was only tempting for a minute. or maybe two.
today paul used the word "hypothesis." correctly. cam and i just looked at each other.
paul had his first oreo cookies this past weekend. (yes, i do occasionally give my son junk food. you know why? because we're so happy we don't need to worry that he'll die because he had some wheat.)
he blamed them for his friday-night wakefulness. "you know why i had so much energy? it was the oreos!"
he was intrigued by the "secret" of twisting them to separate one cookie from another. "mommy," he screamed while i was in the basement. "twist my oreo!"
he wanted to try them with milk. several oreos later, he determined that they really were "milk's favorite cookie."
the ring of black crumbs around his mouth made me smile.
paul's preschool has a field trip today to a local dentist's office for a puppet show. what a fun-sounding activity. i hope the day is entirely successful.
cam is still sick at home. but paul is also rather ill, and dammit if i don't feel like hell, too.
um, happy valentine's day.
paul's valentine's day celebration at school was quite astonishing. school valentines were, i remembered, nothing much -- just little cards in little envelopes. maybe we got some candy, i don't know. the valentines paul and i worked on were very simple. but he came home with goody bags, pencils, stencils, lollipops, a fancy bookmark, a lace-up valentine card and a heart-shaped cookie decorated with white frosting and red and pink sprinkles. for a class of eight kids, this is quite a haul.
did you know that helium is 100% lighter than a big chunk of steel?
did you know that water is 100% wetter than a regular dry old cup?
did you know that telephone poles are 100% taller than tinkertoys?
we laughed silently from the front seat of the car.
my mother just called because she thought paul wanted her to pour hot water into an ice cream cone. turned out he wanted her to pour chocolate milk into an ice cream cone. not so different. when we explained that wouldn't work, he ran away from the phone in a bad mood. why is the child thinking of ice cream cones at 9 am?
nodding head at video camera on tripod:
paul: i set up a surveillance system.
paul: [sleepily] i just want to be holded with blanket.
paul: i have a new name for the baby and it's a funny one!
me: what is it?
paul: dee dee.
me: are you dexter?
paul: no -- you are.
me: because i have glasses?
paul: yes.
me: but i don't have a secret laboratory under the house.
me: i do spend a lot of time in the basement, but that's because i'm doing the laundry.
paul: you have to turn the basement into a secret laboratory.
paul: when the baby comes, she will break everything.
paul: and then you have to rebuild all of it.
me: oh, okay.
he's on his way home for a night in his own bed, the little sweetie.
he decided not to spend the night with his grandparents last night. he may decide to stay tonight instead. although he's a perfectly big boy of four and he's plenty ready for a sleepover at his own grandparents' house, it still makes me very sad. but, i will admit, the idea is a little bit tempting because it means i can sleep in for once on a saturday morning.
paul may spend the night at his grandparents' house either tonight or tomorrow night. i am so not ready for that -- we've never spent a night away from him. i may cry.
paul has expressed an interest in naming the baby himself.
paul: a-b-z.
me: abz?
paul: a-b-c-z.
paul: a-b-c-d-z!
after he was told that "abz" could be short for abigail, he then proceeded to root for abigail to be his new sister's name. we were actually okay with this -- the name had come up before and had failed to excite too much negative feedback -- until i checked the latest social security lists and discovered it was just too freaking popular for our taste. i hated being "grace r." growing up (to distinguish me from grace k.), so i don't really wish to have her go through school as "abigail r." or "abigail r.-c."
paul was really on the abz/abigail kick for a while, but the other night my mother announced paul had come up with a new name. a little warily, i asked what it was.
paul: andalee.
me: andalee?
me: how did you come up with that?
paul: i just said it and i liked how it sounded.
people have given children names for worse reasons, i suppose. cam thinks it's cute. it is cute, but i'm not sold. (plus i googled it and first hit was a belly dancer. hmm.)
also been thinking about a color scheme for the boy/girl bedroom. i showed cam and paul a picture of a kid's room in a pretty avocado green.
paul: no good.
me: why is this no good?
paul: avocado green is no good because she will think she will always be eating.
i'm not sure how to argue with that.
been thinking a lot about space issues in the past few days because paul and the new baby are going to have to share a room at some point. i'm leaning towards this plan:
*get the flexa low loft for paul so that he can slowly get used to being up higher than usual (or maybe i should just spring for the bunk bed now?)
*get the additional pieces from flexa to convert the low loft to the low bunk bed when paul is old enough for the top bunk and the new baby is old enough for the bottom bunk
*when both kids are old enough for top bunks, get additional pieces to convert the bunk to two high loft beds so we can put their desks underneath
*"elfa-ize" (probably a cheaper alternative) the closet to accomodate both kids' clothes
when the kids are old enough to want their own rooms, we can either give up our room, build up, or move. we'll see.
cam: it's so funny that you're thinking ten years from now.
me: that's because we didn't think ten years from now when we bought this house.
my mom recommended that we move -- "it's a great time to buy a house!" -- but i nixed that idea immediately. dammit, we can make this work.
we watched fireworks outside our house at midnight on new year's. how nice it is to live up on a hill near a large body of water (in our case, the harbor). paul valiantly tried to stay up, but passed out around 11:30 -- luckily we were able to rouse him when the festivities started or we would have had one very pissed-off toddler rampaging around the house in the morning...
cam has been directing paul through a series of very complicated obstacles courses -- climb through tunnels, take two complete spins on the sit & spin, shoot a dart at a punching bag, put on shoes, etc. etc. etc. this is very much a father-son activity.
paul: [to cam] are you done?
paul: [exasperated] you have to stop.
paul: this is taking too long.
but, of course, as he finishes each run, he tells his father the next one should be longer.
paul: overcross.
paul: that means longer.
paul: it's an overcross obstacle course.
paul: you have to reset everything.
he's usually in bed by this time, but cam had him take a long nap earlier today in order to stay awake tonight to watch some of the new year's eve festivities. it seems to me that such active play can only wear him down faster, but since they're having so much fun i'll happily keep my mouth shut.
paul is finally asleep. (what a trial that was -- he was so wired!) a hand-drawn "santa map" is sitting on the counter, santa's trail marked courtesy of the norad santa tracker. presents are all wrapped and beribboned under the tree. homemade cookies on a little plate are waiting on the coffee table, soon to be replaced by crumbs and a friendly thank-you note (i think i disguised my handwriting pretty well). the camera and video camera are charging. cam's alarm clock is set for 6.
sleep well. hope your morning is a good one.
lately paul has been on a big secrecy kick.
paul: who cares what i'm doing?
paul: you don't care what i'm doing.
paul: daddy doesn't care what i'm doing.
paul: grandpa doesn't care what i'm doing.
paul: grandma doesn't care what i'm doing.
paul: aunty doesn't care what i'm doing.
paul: the other grandma doesn't care what i'm doing.
paul: who cares what i'm doing?
me: what are you doing?
paul: i don't want to tell you.
sometimes it's because he's done something he knows he shouldn't have done.
me: paul!
me: what did you do?
paul: [sulkily] i don't want to tell you.
sometimes it's because he wants to do something he's not supposed to.
paul: close your eyes.
paul: i don't want you to see.
sometimes it's just because.
me: what do you want for dinner?
paul: i don't want to tell you.
sometimes it means he comes out of his room decorated in bandaids. sometimes it just means he wants to scratch himself in impolite places. sometimes it means i haven't given him the right response. whatever it is, i hope he outgrows it soon.
asked paul the other morning what his sister's name should be.
paul: trebuchet.
me: i don't think that's a very girly name.
paul: trebucah.
me: not sure about that one, either.
paul: u-g-l-a-a-l-a-l-a-l-a- [etc. etc. etc.]
me: how do you say that?
paul: [gleefully] uglaalalalaa [various guttural sounds]
me: um, no.
i think i liked it better when he said that the new baby should be named paul because "she would be my friend."
turns out paul really likes the pasta i made for his preschool party. hurray! i cooked it for his benefit, anyway.
paul complained when i kissed his cheek.
paul: [rubbing face] too wet.
me: what?
me: fine, here is a dry kiss. [kissing cheek]
paul: [rubbing cheek]
me: okay, is there a no kissing rule? [drawing in air heart in circle with a line through it]
paul: how do you write "love"?
me: [drawing in air] l-o-v-e
me: the e is like a swirl.
me: like a c with a little bit extra on top.
paul: [laughing]
paul: watch this. [drawing the word love in a circle with a line through it]
me: no love?
paul: [sighs] i lost my love.
me: how did you do that?
paul: [sighs] it just faded away.
me: that's too bad.
paul: i can get some from you. [hugs]
me: now you have lots of love.
paul: why?
me: because i love you and daddy loves you.
paul: okay.
last night paul and i were reading about iron pyrite. in honor of this strange mineral, paul made up a poem (he called it a "joke," but when i called it a poem, he didn't demur):
fools' gold
fools' gold
fools' gold
i fooled you
i tricked you
i'm the winner!
today is the holiday party at paul's preschool. it's a potluck, so i was up late cooking a tomato-sauced pasta (nemo-shaped, even) and tree-shaped chocolate cookies. the sad part is that i don't even get to go -- i'm stuck at work because one of my assistants needed to be out today. oh well. it's not the first time i've missed out on a preschool party.
i took the day off work because i had my big ultrasound scheduled for today.
took advantage of the free morning by attending preschool with paul and cam. preschool was an interesting experience. paul was up-and-down, but i think it was a pretty good day. he did, however, not listen to cam when it was time to return inside after playground time, and that was a little stressful. when the teacher snapped at me for asking paul if he needed help on a ladder, that was also stressful. meh. what did she think i was going to do, grab him off the ladder and spoonfeed him pureed peas? he was stuck. i just asked if he needed help. the "working" parents that day made me feel in the way, so i tried to stick to the wall and be unobtrusive as possible. the children themselves -- when they noticed me -- were a bit more welcoming.
during a playtime, a girl yelled at paul he was playing hopscotch incorrectly. he raised his arm as if to strike her, then hid behind me with his usual, "i don't want ANYTHING."
me: [yelling girl] is brutal.
cam: paul is a ninny.
as soon as class was over, i headed to the car to drink a quart of water before the appointment.
when paul finally finished his goodbyes, we all went to kaiser for my ultrasound appointment. the lab tech called me in quickly (half an hour prior to my actual appointment!) and told cam and paul that he'd call them in to see pictures after the exam. the exam part took about 15 minutes, mostly spent in silence. then the tech left to bring in cam and paul. after several minutes, he returned alone, saying he was unable to find them. i was really disappointed, but what could i do? he rushed through some shots, then asked me if i wanted to know the sex. i said yes, and he indicated that he was "leaning towards a girl." then it was all over. i asked if i'd get pictures, and he breezily said his printer was broken. there i was, disappointed about cam and paul missing out, disappointed about his lack of certainly re gender and disappointed by the lack of pictures. well. it wasn't that the tech wasn't nice, because he was, but he was awfully cavalier about the whole thing.
as i opened the door to the waiting room, cam and paul walked up. they took one look at me and realized that the appointment was over. cam looked pissed and paul started wailing. they were so clearly upset about missing the ultrasound that i started to cry. i didn't even get to the bathroom, even though i was on the verge of desperation (the bladder of a pregnant woman is no laughing matter). i was too busy apologizing to paul.
but, as usual, out of the wreckage came a few moments of hilarity.
paul: [tearful] but how do they know it's a girl?
cam: they're looking for something.
paul: what?
cam: uh, okay, they're looking for a thing -- like yours.
cam: if they don't find one, then it's a girl.
cam: because little girls don't have one.
paul: but big girls do?
cam: um, no, they don't.
paul: [practically sobbing] but how do they pee?
me: can we please not have this conversation NOW?
we dropped paul off with his grandfather (and i had my much needed bathroom break), then we went home to take a nap. cam explained he wasn't mad at me, but i wasn't really convinced. if i hadn't been lying on a table with gel all over my stomach, i would have told the tech i'd find them myself (they were in the bathroom, by the way).
it was a pretty exhausting day. as nice as it was to take a day off work, enough bummerish things happened to make it less than fully pleasant. i guess i just had idealized visions of how the day was supposed to be.
me: did you take a nap?
paul: no.
paul: nap day is 800 light-years away.
me: huh?
me: are you too old for naps now?
paul: no, i think 5 or 6 is...
paul is not big on naps, now that he's an old man of four. not that he was ever big on naps, but there was a time when the nap days outnumbered the no-nap days. as he gets older, the less he wants to sleep during the day. (which is funny, because the older i get, the more i want to sleep during the day.) he might fall asleep in the car, but he doesn't consider those real naps. (which is funny, because when he was a baby, a 15-minute nap in the car was the equivalent of a 2-3 hour "real nap.") brief snoozes in the car are "car naps" and are dismissed as a commonplace fact of life.
one interesting thing that we've noticed about paul's napping and lack of napping is that he's pretty much ready to sleep at the same time each time, no matter what. sure, if he falls asleep during a car trip after 7 pm, chances are he'll sleep through the night, but more likely than not, he'll be going to bed sometime around 9:30ish. it's kind of nice, this stable bedtime. what a novelty.
my mom: we went back to my house to bake cookies.
my mom: and paul said that on the internet they said that the oats and sugar needed to be mixed by hand.
me: huh?
my mom: so i said, "this is not the internet, this is my house."
me: wait... by hand?
my mom: by hand.
my mom: he screamed, "don't interfere with me!"
my assistant: that is YOUR son.
me: [sighing] i know.
i would not be entirely truthful if i said that i wasn't bothered by paul's occasional outright rejection. about half an hour ago, i woke up to paul crying out "daddy, daddy" -- i asked cam's sleeping figure if i should go check on him. being asleep, he didn't respond, so i got up.
usually these days when paul calls out for his father in the middle of the night, he doesn't mind when i show up instead. tonight was different.
paul: [screaming] not you!
paul: [takes a swing] where's daddy!?
me: he's asleep.
me: i'll go get him, okay?
paul: [still mad] okay.
so i woke cam up, then had my bedtime snack. not really sleepy, i cleaned up the living room a little and here i am, sitting on the couch and watching the discovery times network. i know i shouldn't let it bother me, but cam was kind of a git before bedtime and i was already feeling sort of sick and hormonal. i'm just... a little tired of it all.
this morning when i got to the office i saw i had two missed calls -- one from cam's cell and the other from an attorney in tokyo. the little voicemail light was on, so i figured that the tokyo attorney had left a message. i didn't look at the time of cam's call, thinking he must have called last night while i was on my way down to the car.
leaving the phone until later, i started to quickly scan my emails. buried in the pile were two emails from the tokyo attorney, one of them asking for a call back.
the phone rang. it was the tokyo attorney. my first words to him were, "hi. you're impatient."
he laughed. (clearly we're friends.)
i finally got around to checking my voicemail -- to my surprise, there was only one and it wasn't from the tokyo attorney.
paul: hi.
paul: i love you.
paul: bye.
what a great surprise! thinking back, i did see him playing with cam's phone last night, but it never occurred to me that he actually made a call.
my son likes wheat thins and bran flakes, and prefers saltines to club crackers. who knew?
cam just called to tell me that he had talked to paul's allergist, and there's a very good possibility that paul is NO LONGER ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS AND WHEAT. a blood test showed that he had no significant reaction to either. milk and eggs are still a problem, but peanuts and wheat may not be. we're supposed to start him on a little wheat this weekend. (being allergic to peanuts myself, i am not exactly certain how to go about starting him on that.)
oh my god. i am so excited i am in tears. who would have guessed he'd outgrow any of his allergies so soon?
a couple of days ago it occurred to us that paul would yet again be shortchanged food-wise at an upcoming family gathering. not that paul would really care, but as often is the case, the idea of paul's one or two dishes compared to the family's tableful of food made me very, very sad.
so we decided to make him his own thankgiving feast. out came the big stand-mixer, the cutting boards, the measuring cups, the big bowls, the baking trays, the random herbs and spices that smell like the holidays.
me [peering into the oven]: i have never gone to this much effort before for thanksgiving.
we turned out a very credible little butter-free turkey roast, wheat/dairy-free stuffing (from scratch -- thanks, betty crocker cookbook (there's not a whole lot of call for turkey stuffing in my pile of vegetarian cookbooks)), wheat-free mushroom gravy and nice little crustless dairy/wheat/egg-free pumpkin pies (baked in muffin tins for paul-sized snacking). with the addition of plain mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, plus soy ice cream and soy whipped cream for his "pie," i think paul may have had the most complete holiday meal he has ever had in his entire life.
(me, i ate a tofurky roast for the first time ever. no one else cared for it very much, but as the only regular eater of meat substitutes, i thought it wasn't too bad. the deli slices might be better, though.)
the child wore the same shirt to preschool two days in a row. i sent another shirt with him when we dropped him off at his grandparents, but he refused to wear it. the shame, it consumes me.
paul and i both have toggle coats. paul is now very interested in toggles. he knows buttons, he knows zippers, he knows velcro -- but toggles?
paul: what is a toggle?
paul: where is a toggle?
paul: why is it a toggle?
must get a children's dictionary so he can look these things up himself. not sure it would be much help for the whys and wheres, though.
hi, it's me. i just wanted to know if i should give paul his medicine. oh, and can you tell me why i had to order two orders of fries -- one well done, one regular -- instead of just one?
duh, it's because you went to in'n'out and paul is ALL savvy on the secret menu.
me: hi.
paul: hi.
paul: when are you coming home?
me: after work -- the usual time.
paul: when is the sun going to come up?
me: it's not up yet? [trying to see out window]
paul: just a little bit.
paul: is it going to rain?
me: you know, i saw in the elevator this morning that it was going to be cloudy.
paul: what did the elevator say?
me: partially cloudy.
paul: you know what it says now?
me: what?
paul: snowing.
me: snowing!
paul: yes.
me: then you better wear your boots.
paul: i'll wear my jacket.
me: yes, you should wear a jacket, too.
paul: i like cold.
me: but you don't like rain?
paul: yes.
paul: you know what my weather chart says?
me: what?
paul: snowing.
me: well, that's good if you like the cold.
paul: bye.
me: bye.
went to the hospital on saturday. paul was a riot.
nurse: does anyone smoke in your home?
cam: no.
paul: but there were the malibu fires...
doctor: are you taking any medication?
paul: i took my gummies already.
doctor: do you brush your teeth?
paul: i brush my teeth ALL THE TIME.
it was a good thing he was in such a cheerful mood -- going to see the doctor for a minor case of balanitis isn't exactly one's idea of fun.
as for me... i was too busy being irritated with the doctor on duty (or whatever she was) to fully appreciate paul's good mood. honestly, what kind of a medical professional could mistake a dried milk moustache for eczema?
today mr. baby turns four. i know i should probably retire the whole "mr. baby" thing because he's practically ancient now, but i just can't...
talked to paul. he is feeling almost normal -- which is good because a fda panel just recommended that cold meds not be used with children younger than six. good timing.
poor paul has come down with a cold.
he woke me up at 3:45 this morning, crying "mommy" over the baby monitor in sad little helpless tones. i went to see him. he was rolling back and forth and sniffling and crying. i rubbed his back and he tried to go back to sleep, but he was a little too congested (and a little too awake) to be able to fall asleep easily. he asked me to stop by a store on the way home from work and buy him some medicine.
so we sat up until about 5:30, talking about roller coasters and the toys of his infancy. i meant to take a 5-minute catnap, but i ended up sleeping for about 15 minutes. when i woke up, paul was asleep, but unfortunately, so was cam. he told me later that he had heard us having a very "coherent" conversation, so he thought that it was saturday and went back to sleep! needless to say, we were a bit late to work this morning.
i hope paul is feeling okay when he wakes up. poor sniffly little thing.
paul's halloween costume arrived yesterday -- a fireman raincoat and boots from gymboree. (he already has a hat to go with it.) when we got home from work, he was at my mom's house. i brought him the coat. he promptly told me that i forgot to get a hat.
me: you already have a hat.
paul: you know what you forgot?
paul: you forgot gloves.
cam: we did forget those.
paul: you forgot boots.
me: no, the boots are in the kitchen.
me: what else did i forget?
me: a hose -- a fire extinguisher?
me: an axe -- a walkie-talkie?
he put on his furry boots (because those were the ones he had worn to go to my mom's house) and fastened up the coat. then we raced across the backyard to get home.
once in the house, i gave him the boots and brought him his hat. he was so adorable. he seemed pleased with his new fireman gear, so i sighed all kinds of silent sighs of relief. knowing my boy, there was a very good chance that he'd disclaim all previous stated desires of being a fireman for halloween. he asked me for a hose that would spray blue paper. i said i'd think about it.
considering that he originally wanted to be the king of all cosmos, i think i got off really easy this year. seemingly out of nowhere he declared he was going to be a fireman instead.
the hat came from cam's mom, who works for the city of torrance (hence the fact that the hat actually says "torrance" on it and came with an activity book). i looked for costumes, but didn't like the cheesiness of them. (and oh my god, the prices!) i think my solution -- raingear -- will work out excellently well.
the other night paul and i were playing with watercolors. i didn't really want to, but it's so rare that paul wants to do anything remotely art-related, so i relented. it's not the watercolors themselves that i object to -- it's that 1) paul likes to mix all of the colors in the paint tray, and 2) paul eventually finds it more fun to just play with the black water he has created with his mixed paints.
cam came up with the interesting idea that paul use watercolors on one of his "homework" assignments -- a craft project he had refused to do at school. paul and i worked on that for a little bit. the parts i painted are hilariously obvious.
when we were finished with his craft (a "paintbrush"), i thought that he'd want to stop with the paints because he seemed to lose interest in them by the end. but suddenly he came up with a new idea -- he wanted me to paint a "sign."
me: a sign?
paul: yes.
me: what should it say?
paul: [singing] what do you do?
so... i painted a sign that read, "what do you do?" he told me to add "all day long" after i had finished it. i put them in parentheses underneath.
paul: [singing] what do you do?
paul: [singing] all day long!
he asked me to paint several more signs and sang the requested text to me.
what went wrong?
what came apart?
what does it take to build a machine?
how good is your day today?
how tasty is your juice? (my personal favorite -- i can't even say this without laughing)
then we taped them to various doorways for cam to discover. he was, predictably, amused. the signs are still up. i don't expect we'll take them down for a while, even though they do make it a little hard to close some of our doors.
here it is, the official write-up of paul's first day of preschool: it sort of went well.
we were about ten minutes late because cam thought class started at 10 instead of 9:30. it was not the most auspicious beginning.
paul didn't want to sit on the little mats. he didn't want to listen to the story. he didn't want to stay in line. he didn't want to play with the others. he cried when the whole group got to say what kind of weather we were having. he didn't even want to stand.
i didn't think we were going to stay the whole time, but we did. or rather -- cam did. about halfway through, i couldn't deal anymore, the nausea was killing me (from all the crouching, getting up, sitting down, chasing paul). got the car keys from cam and passed out in the car. i woke up when cam ran by the car after playground time to see how i was doing.
at 11:30, i got up and went inside. the teacher was singing and the kids were all sitting on the little mats. except paul. paul was lying on the floor on the other side of the room. cam was sitting with him.
but even though he seemed to be fairly anti, when the class ended, he shouted "bye!" and hugged the teacher. he said "bye" to everyone and was nice and smiley. except, of course, when the other parents wanted a group picture. paul refused to be in it. he ran away. when he finally agreed, he stood a foot in front of the others.
but the teacher said he did well, especially for a child who has never been in a group environment before. i have my doubts. i couldn't decide if i wanted to laugh, cry or just be embarrassed.
after school, i thought we were leaving, but cam was a little concerned about a boy who was sitting by himself outside (his mother was inside with the teacher). we went over to see how he was doing. next thing i knew, he and paul were sort of playing together, sort of playing next to each other. we ended up staying for another hour while the boys played -- first on the grass, then in the playground. when the boy's mother came out to find her son, she found the four of us over at the swings. she was... a character, but she was super-friendly and kept suggesting paul come over to her house to play.
so. paul was non-compliant and grumpy, for the most part, but he seemed happy with school after it was over and he did a craft project i put on the mantel. plus he made a friend. i think that counts as a tiny victory, maybe even a tiny success.
re the first day of preschool:
let me just say that while he may prance around like a mini adult ("would you please read home wiring to me?"), paul is very much still a little kid. a reeeaaallly little kid.
but he's my reeeaaallly little kid and i'm proud of him.
i was coming up the stairs from the basement, overloaded hamper in my arms. it was kind of dim (early evening) and as far as i knew, cam and paul were busy somewhere else in the house.
suddenly a small boy showed up in the doorway to the basement. (he must have opened the baby gate because i know i closed it.) i screamed in surprise.
paul: it's just me.
me: you scared me!
paul: how about you do that again?
paul: don't move. [leaving]
paul: [showing up again]
me: [screaming obediently]
paul: boo.
me: [surprised] eee!
paul: that's what jack-o'-lanterns say.
me: jack-o'-lanterns say boo?
paul: yes.
me: oh no, i forgot to turn on the dryer.
paul: [panicked] don't turn it on until i'm gone!
paul: [running away]
why is that the dryer inspires more fear that talking pumpkin heads?
cam and i bought some school clothes for paul at sears (i like lands end, what can i say?). long-torso'd child that he is, we bought him toddler-sized pants and little kid-sized shirts. if paul had come with us, i'm sure the errand would have taken over an hour. but me and cam, we're pros -- i think we were in and out of there in about 15 minutes.
we stuck to basics: jeans, cords, solid-color t-shirts. cam kept showing me little quilted jackets with corduroy patches ("he'd need a pipe," said cam). i would have liked cuter stuff, but the boys department was pretty spare. how i would have loved garanimals.
shopping for new clothes for paul is a lot like shopping for new clothes for cam. it's such a utilitarian experience. object to cover upper body, check. object to cover lower body, check. foot protection, check. granted, shopping for paul is a little more emotional because we look at the smaller sizes with nostalgia and weep with despair that he's ready to graduate to school-appropriate attire, but the results are similar. how long will it be before paul's entire wardrobe consists of jeans and solid-color t-shirts?
when paul used to request (demand) to use my computer, he always wanted to play preschool games -- nick jr., playhouse disney, thomas the tank engine, etc. etc. etc. then he went through a heavy video phase -- rube goldberg videos, punkin chunkins, trebuchets, lego stop-motion, roller coaster tycoon, stuff set to the music of they might be giants. he went back to games for a while (we spent SO much time looking for rube goldberg games), but eventually he developed an interest in "howstuffworks" videos, which seemed like the natural companion for one of his favorite shows, "how it's made."
i'm marshall brain, and THIS is how stuff works.
but as he gets older, he seems to getting less and less interested in the inner workings of machinery and more and more interested in the art of slapstick. the child is now positively obsessed with "tom and jerry." it's truly fascinating to see him laughing uproariously about a cat getting beat up in all sorts of ways. before, when he wanted me to see things on television, he would find the remote, rewind and pause, then come get me. now he just yells, "look!" and then erupts into a pile of belly-laughs.
my small wonder has suddenly become a real boy.
but his newfound affection for the cat vs. mouse hasn't dimmed his love for a good set of contraptions. his current computer game of choice? "tom's trap-o-matic" on the cartoon network site. "tom-and-jerry-rube-goldberg-GAME, tom-and-jerry-rube-goldberg-GAME!" he chants as he climbs up onto the bed in order to grab the laptop.
whenever paul sees a word that starts with "ru," his first instinct is to say that the word is "rubbish." the length of the word doesn't matter -- it could be "rue" or "rule" or "rudimentary." it's all the same.
this always cracks me up. rubbish? why does this three-year-old say "rubbish"?
i apologize for not writing much. i apologize to myself on a daily basis for this. i miss my blog, but honestly, i'm just pregnant enough to be exhausted by nine. sometimes eight. plus i just puked my guts out after some minor furniture-moving exertion.
but i'm not staying up late because of THAT. i'm staying up past my bedtime to write this post which must be written: paul starts a twice-a-week preschool on september 25.
waaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!
a few weeks ago, a dear friend asked if paul was going to preschool this year or next year. i wrote back something along the lines of... burying one's head in the sand.
then i started to calculate ages. then i started to panic. then i started to research.
our local school district allows children to enroll in kindergarten as long as the fifth birthday takes place by december 2 (i think) of the enrolling year. paul will be four in a month and change. unless we want to redshirt him and make him one of the oldest kids at school, the time for preschool is NOW. shite. where the hell did the time go?
i found a local co-op preschool that sounded great and started trading emails with a teacher. luckily there was one opening in the appropriate age group, so we started driving around trying to find the school. then a few days ago, i found an article in the local paper about a city-subsidized preschool reopening after a two-year hiatus.
while the preschool madness was swirling around our heads, i was also researching kindergartens. our neighborhood elementary is okay, but not great. our neighborhood middle school and high school are even less than okay. in fact, both the middle school and high school have not been able (according to the school district handout for the 2007-08 year) to meet certain goals, and because of this, students assigned to these schools have the opportunity to transfer out to other schools. well, that's all fine and dandy, but priority is given to low-performing students from low-income families. in principle, i understand the rationale for this. i do, really, but that doesn't mean i feel good about my kid potentially being stuck in a less than ideal school situation because we're fortunate enough to have good jobs. (i am not saying anything about his performance because we don't know what it'll be.)
let's face it. we don't want to put him in the local religious private school because we're not religious and we don't want him to feel like an outsider (although we could afford that school). we don't make enough to send him to that private school up the hill with private-college-worthy tuitions and a mandatory carpool policy. we don't want him to stagnate at a bad neighborhood school. i can't homeschool. what to do?
the magnet program. please, gods of magnet education, take my boy.
but back to the present. last night the local co-op was supposed to have their first parent meeting. (cam had called the co-op teacher a few times and she was supposed to call him back with details.) but yesterday was also registration day for the city preschool. (i had only been mildly optimistic about that one because we're not residents of the particular city sponsoring the preschool, so i feared that there wouldn't be any space left after resident registration.) cam went to that and came back with a receipt for the first semester fee. sometime during that evening, we decided that we were happy with the city school -- for a number of reasons (parent participation, price, schedule, guaranteed spot, nice teacher cam had already met), not just because we hadn't heard from the co-op teacher -- and i emailed the co-op teacher to let her know. (i found out the next day that she had had some health issues and was unable to get to her messages. it gave me more sympathy for her, but it didn't change our decision.)
so. next tuesday morning is our first parents meeting, then school starts the following tuesday. i've already arranged to take both days off work. (i also scheduled my prenatal registration appointment for next tuesday afternoon because, well, it's an efficient use of a day off.)
when i think about paul in school, i feel a little panicky because i'm not sure any of us are ready for this change. as usual, i find myself immersing myself in the minutiae (new clothes? a backpack? snacks?) to get through it all in the most practical way possible. i'm trying not to think too much about how sad i could be feeling about this. last night we went for a little walk in our neighborhood and on the way home i started to tear up because he suddenly seemed so big yet so small.
mr. baby, are we ready to let you go?
looking at a candy dispenser in the lobby of a restaurant:
me: those are little fruit-shaped candies.
me: i don't know what they're called.
me: those are gumballs.
me: and those are m&m's.
me: no, wait, they're skittles.
paul: no, they're s&m's.
me: sure, why not?
at the ripe old age of almost four, i would describe paul as an eternal optimist with a persecution complex. even while declaring that several people are trying to hurt him, he will staunchly state that nothing bad can ever happen.
the anti-disaster confidence can be a little disconcerting sometimes. this morning we were looking at a science book and reading the section on tidal waves.
me: those look scary.
paul: don't worry.
paul: we don't get tidal waves in california.
me: we don't?
paul: [worldweary] they only happen far away.
me: oh.
crashes and accidents are merely "impact tests." a dead pig being tortured in various ways on mythbusters is not really a dead pig -- "it's made of gelatin."
the out-to-get-me thinking is also kind of freaky. you'd be surprised how many imaginary people have been total imaginary assholes. sometimes the assholes are his parents. sometimes i get really tired of being cast as the villain in my son's made-up tableau (even if i do twirl my moustache most appealingly).
i'm not sure where he gets the optimistic side of his personality. god knows i'm a pessimist of the first water (and that goes hand-in-hand with the whole persecution thing) and cam isn't exactly all puppy dogs and roses himself. hm. maybe i need to observe him a bit more closely to see if it's more denial than optimism. THAT'S something i can get behind.
paul: guess what?
me: what?
paul: chickenbutt.
paul: guess what?
me: what?
paul: chickenbutt.
paul: guess what?
me: what?
paul: chicken poop.
me: [sigh]
paul: mommy, would you please draw a rube goldberg for me that i can make out of tinkertoys, blocks and string?
when we got home, paul's little ikea plastic step-thing was in front of the kitchen sink. i don't know why.
when i went to wash the dishes post-dinner, i decided to use it instead of putting it away. (it reminded me of the little step we had at my parents' house. my aunt used it when she washed dishes. she's maybe 4'9"? i think i stopped using it when i turned 10.) holy crap. if that's what it's like being six inches taller, i'm glad i'm short. the sink looked so very far away. my back started to hurt.
scrub, scrub, scrub. ache, ache, ache.
then i heard footsteps. i jumped down and kicked the step-thing to the side... but i was too late. cam had already spotted me. he laughed. i felt sheepish.
cam: give little mommy a hug.
paul: little mommy!
me: feh.
me: stop calling me that.
cam: hey, i wouldn't have even noticed if you hadn't jumped and kicked the footstool.
little mommy: feh.
me: do you want an "i love kari" shirt?
paul: yes.
paul: and you can have a "mommy is grant's friend" shirt.
i see he's been thinking about my myspace profile.
paul: i want to watch something.
me: okay, what?
paul: daniel cook.
paul: no, i want to watch a mythbusters.
paul: oh!
paul: emily yeung.
me: sure, you can watch an emily yeung.
paul: you know we have a new one: the post office.
me: oh, we have newer ones than that.
paul: here's a new one: building a treehouse.
me: that sounds cool.
paul: there's a new one called "nothing."
paul: she just stands there.
cam: mommy's been telling me about the emily yeung called "nothing."
cam: she just stands there for five minutes?
paul: more like six minutes.
paul really likes the map section of "world and space," an old childcraft book we unearthed at my aunt's house. (the set of childcraft books at her house originally belonged to my brother and myself, but i don't really remember most of them.) of particular interest to paul is a map of a town where you have to go two blocks north -- from your house -- up main street and one block west on ogilvie street in order to go to the school. paul has been saying ogilvie a lot lately.
me: we can have a kid and name him "ogilvie."
me: we can call him "baby oggo." [bonus points if you thought of deko boko friends]
paul: no, we'll get a kid and call it "baby mommy."
paul: and it will look just like you!
me: where would we get this baby?
me: from the kid store?
paul: yes.
my mother told me that paul was freaking out one day because of a children's charity commercial.
paul: it says "call now!"
paul: you better call!
paul: you have to call now!
he continued to nag her to call until he saw pictures of the children served by charitable giving.
paul: you mean i'd get a child?
my mom: yes.
paul: i don't want a child.
so... you can imagine my surprise when paul informed me that we'd have another kid in the house by december. but, he said, we'd just get him from the "kid store."
just gave paul a bath. he smells so nice.
we had another barbeque this evening -- tonight we had hot dogs, veggie skewers (i chopped up a lot of vegetables yesterday, obviously) and beer.
paul: [looking at his bottle of root beer] rinness.
me: we are SUCH bad role models.
it was kind of funny how we could all say we had hot dogs for dinner, yet no one ate the same thing as the person next to them (or across from them) -- i had a veggie dog in a regular bun, cam had a regular hot dog in a regular bun, paul had a regular hot dog wrapped in a corn tortilla. intolerances and preferences make for a short-order-cook kind of life sometimes.
the flies were all over us. (i had no idea flies liked beer.) but because we got started much earlier in the evening, we were able to be done by dark -- so at least we could see when the flies were on our plates, bottles, us, etc.
even though i really really wanted to go out to eat, i thought this was quite nice. i feel a little dumb that we're starting these "summer" activities so late in the season, but life in so cal means we don't need to stop once september is upon us.
tonight we had a little barbeque, just the three of us and my mom. it was really nice, but we need to get more outdoor lighting -- the main source of light was a motion-sensitive one in front of my mom's house. whenever it went off, it was paul's job to run over to it so that it would go on again. eventually he decided cam should do it, but then i ended up taking over at the end. we also had candles on the table, but those were really, you know, just decorative.
paul, my mom and i ate veggie skewers. i also had a veggie burger. cam grilled chicken and a steak he tried to share with paul, but by the time those were done paul just wanted potato chips. there were beers for everyone -- except for my mom, who refused all forms -- newcastle for cam, guinness for me, and root for paul.
paul: [from inside my mom's house] mommy, come here.
me: let me just finish my beer.
me: [to my mom] wow, that sounded inappropriate, didn't it?
my mom: [laughing]
it was a lovely evening. we ought to do that sort of thing more often.
i know that the toddler years are some of the most solipsistic years in one's life, but damn.
NO, they are not talking to you.
NO, she is not looking at you.
NO, he's not trying to talk to you.
NO, they are not trying to take your picture.
NO, she does not want you to go over there.
argh! can you pretend for just one minute that you don't think that the world revolves around you?
when things are going wrong, blocks are falling over, monkeys are jumping all over the furniture, cam calls out, "disaster!"
one of us must have used the word "catastrophe" while paul was in earshot. or maybe one of the mythbusters said it.
hence, "disastrophe."
last night we went to souplantation for dinner. i would have cooked, but the water was off because my mom was having a faucet installed outside. (excuses, excuses.)
when we were seated, paul asked me if THE girl was there. i sighed.
me: no, baby, she's not here.
me: she and her family must be eating somewhere else for dinner.
paul: oh.
he got over it quickly enough (after all, there were other girls there), but he was clearly bummed for a second there. i was telling my mom about it this morning, rolling my eyes at paul's behavior. "i didn't expect this stuff to start so early!"
across the room, cam laughed. "but maybe he'll be more willing to go if he thinks she's going to be there..."
i concede this is a good point (getting a toddler out of the house can be an absolute trial sometimes), but i am not really ready to trade toys for girls in terms of bribery.
i know paul loves her and all, but my god, i am so absolutely tired of kari byron.