Connor Rides His Bike!

Prior to today, Connor hasn't ever gotten really into the idea of riding a bike. He certainly has lots of fun on the trail-a-bike with Ed, and he was always up for riding in the bike seat when he was younger, but propelling himself didn't grab his attention. This is only a problem because as semi-regular bike commuters, I want Connor to enjoy riding bikes as much as Ed and I do. And I also want to be able to have him bike himself to the beach when we visit Chincoteague, so Ed can put Helen on the trail-a-bike, and I can worry about only myself.

For whatever reason, Connor decided he didn't want Ed to teach him to learn to ride a bike, so I decided I would give it a go. For a few weeks, when Ed and Helen would go to the grocery store, Connor and I would go and practice at the dead end street around the corner from us "in secret". A neighbor of mine gave me an awesome tip when she saw me running behind Connor helping him to balance his bike - which turned out to be the best piece of unsolicited parenting advice I have ever received. She showed me how to grab the back of Connor's shirt so that now Connor was controlling the bike, but I was aiding him enough in his balance that he didn't crash.

Connor is exceedingly concerned about crashing. I continue to assure him that crashing is inevitable, and that he's lucky he's a kid now, when kids get bike helmets. Because in my day? Not so much.

A month or so ago, Connor requested that I remove his training wheels, so I told Ed to remove his training wheels and pretend he knew nothing about it. Because bike maintenance? That is not my department. This all, for the record, was killing Ed because Ed really wanted to see Connor learn to ride a bike.

A couple of weeks ago, Connor finally showed Ed his stuff, and yesterday, he coasted down our street with Ed trotting behind.

Today? He is officially a bike rider. He cruised around the parking lot with ease, and then went around our block a few times. He loves riding too fast and in the span of a few minutes, I went from being super happy about Connor's new skills to super terrified. Can't win for trying, sometimes.

I present to you in video form Connor's bike riding, with interludes of Helen skating and cruising around on her Radio Flyer.

Music by Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers - Gravity

Elaine

Heavy Hitting Week at Chez Connor and Helen

This week, we've had discussions on gay marriage, being vegetarian, and the appropriateness of climbing onto the roof of the neighbor's shed.

In summary - Yes, Yes, and Absolutely not until you are at least TEN - maybe older!

What did you discuss with your 3 and 5 years olds this week?

Letters

Dear Helen,

You may not have friends over again until they are as old as Connor.

Sorry about that.

Love,
Mom and Dad

Evening Treats

In our house, when one eats a good dinner, they become "treat eligible". Or, if they are Helen, they become "treat ellabajol". Of course, some nights, you might be "treat ellabajol" and end up getting no treat at all. That happens when your mother gives you your requested snack, vanilla ice cream on a cone, and you glare at her and whine "it's not enough". Your mother responds "we can discuss the quantity of ice cream after you finish this". You stomp your foot. Your mother tells you "you may say thank you and begin eating your treat, or you may give it back to me and snack will be over, and we will move onto bath". You defiantly shove your ice cream to the counter.

Your point is made.

But your mother has a point to make, too.

Your mother announces it is bath time and carries you to the bathroom. You scream so loudly, and in such a sustained nature that your au pair comes running down from her upstairs bedroom because she hears water running and thinks you have been scalded. Your mother assures her that you simply lost treat. Her eyes practically pop out of her head because at this point, you are seriously making a point.

Only it's about lost ice cream, which is not all that compelling of a point to make. Your au pair returns to her room, shocked because she's never seen this before from you.

You continue screaming, kicking, and toss in a few light hits as well. Your mother runs bath water. Inside, she reminds herself to remain cool as a cucumber. And she pats herself on the back because she does.

She goes back to the kitchen to retrieve you, because you are well aware that treat is in the kitchen, and you somehow believe that if you are in the kitchen, you will get to gain back possession of that treat.

She places you in the bathtub. She begins washing you, as if nothing strange is happening as you continue screaming at full volume. She lets you know that you may either play in bath or continue screaming, but that if you continue screaming, you'll have to do it outside because it is much too loud for inside. You pause.

Your mother also tells you that if you are screaming, bath for you will be over, and that will mean it's book time. You come to your senses and stop screaming.

Your brother comes to bath and questions why you behaved the way you did. Your mother takes a deep breath, because she thinks another screaming fit is coming on. But it doesn't.

Your brother and you have a nice bath. Your father feels so badly that losing treat has been so hard on you, he comes out to your mother (who is preparing for her pilates class) and asks if there are any circumstances under which you may get your beloved ice cream cone.

Your mother looks at him and asks "after that? No!"

Your father's heart breaks, because he is a softy, through and through when it comes to crocodile tears and little girls. Your mother admits that if she had known your reaction would be so sustained and loud, she would not have issued the initial pronouncement. She would've given you more ice cream, even though it would no doubt end up in the trash or melted on the floor because it would've been too much.

When bath is over, you get out without any arguing. Your mother wraps a towel around you that is your "fancy dress" and you go to "Amity's window", just in case she's there for you to wave at. You exchange raspberries, kisses, and giggles with your mother. You enjoy an extra story in your mom's lap before she heads off to pilates.

Your mother drives off wondering how the screaming child and the giggle child can possibly be the same person. She's thankful that she's never seen this intense screaming child before, and reminds herself how she got off so easy when it came to tantrums with her other child. Those number fewer than five, and at least two of those were completely understandable.

In the end, your mother is pretty impressed, because with lungs like those, you could become an opera singer. And with a stubborn streak like that, you could level any man in a boardroom who crosses your path.

Inside, she smiles and thinks everything will be just fine. Although she is hoping the next time you are "treat ellabajol", you actually get to enjoy the treat. Because that argument? It was totally NOT worth it.

I believe this marks tantrum #1.

Big Parenting Decision #1

When a woman finds out she is pregnant with a boy (or, as in my case, chooses not to find out so must plan for the possibility of both a boy and a girl), among the first decisions she and her partner will need to make is whether or not they will have their infant circumcised.

Ed happens to be friends with a prominent member of one of the leading groups trying to end the practice of male circumcision. And, as part of his advocacy efforts, this friend sent Ed and I some "literature" on the subject. Ed and I talked about the issue quite a bit. In the end, I don't think either of us could imagine taking the effort of taking our baby to a hospital or pediatrician's office, or wherever one goes to have this done. So we didn't, figuring that if we had a son, he could make the decision for himself later on.

I have never regretted the choice we made, but I did feel fairly ostracized about it at one point.

I wrote about it over at DCMetroMoms a few days ago. Click on the link if you want to read more.

Elaine

Elaine

Parental Rite of Passage: Trip to the ER - Completed

If you asked me which of my children was most likely to end up in the ER, it would - hands down - be Helen. She is constantly stretching the limits of her little body trying to do what Connor does, and this is often completely frightening to watch - and impossible to halt. In fact, when I called my parents last night and told them I had been to the ER, both guessed it was with Helen.

But I was wrong. Yesterday, we went on a bowling outing arranged by a mom's group I'm part of. I took Helen and Connor there, got Connor set up, and then Ed arrived. I went to the snack bar to get Connor and Helen a treat (mostly because I needed a good distraction for Helen since this is one of few activities that I really think even she couldn't figure out a way to participate in). While I was at the concession stand, I heard a very terrible scream. In my head, I said "Wow, I'm glad I don't have a kid that screams like that" assuming it was some child protesting leaving the alley. But then my friend Laurie rushed up to me and said "Elaine - get some ice, that was Connor!" and I was totally stunned, and then I saw Ed carrying little dude, blood everywhere. It took a moment to get it washed up enough to see what was going on, but as has been pieced together for me, Connor picked up his very heavy ball, and then tripped. But because his hands were full of bowling ball, he couldn't use them to break his fall, and so his chin caught the edge of the alley with a fair amount of force.

It actually stopped bleeding pretty quickly, but as soon as the physician's assistant at the ER saw it, she proclaimed he'd be needing stitches. I asked about a magic glue solution another mom told me about, but his cut was apparently way beyond the wonder of this stuff. As it turns out, he needed six stitches. He was an absolute champ, only letting us all know after four stitches "I'm all done now. I'm ready to go home.".

The PA thought I had a career in medicine because I was so calm as I held Connor. She told me children only do as well as their moms. She then asked if I'd been through this a lot and I told her "no", Connor's never been in the hospital except to have blood drawn. He wasn't even born in one. She said "wow, that must have been awesome. I think it's the reason you're so calm. Seeing blood must not bother you at all." And that's just another reason to be a home birther (though I don't believe it myself at all, I think I'm just a calm person when I know I need to be).

Elaine

First Day of Kindergarten

Saturday, Connor's new - and wonderful - teacher came for a home visit. As is traditional in Waldorf schools, she brought him a small gift which turned out to be a sand dollar. Connor treasured this so much that - despite having a staph infection in his throat and feeling pretty miserable, he muscled his way outside to place it in the sand table out back. He was supposed to start yesterday, but he slept until after school started (8:30!) and he was in no shape to go to school since he'd been popping fevers of up to 103 for the past 48 hours whenever the motrin we were giving him wore off.

So today, Connor headed off to the 3-day "Morning Glory" class at the same school he has been attending with me for a year and a half now. This was his first sans parent drop-off school adventure. His teacher called me this evening to let me know that he fit right into the other children's play and had an absolutely perfect day. I don't know much about what happened, but I do know he spent an hour on the playground when it was raining and he must have done some jumping with others in puddles in the sand pit, because he came home looking like this:

In case you can't see the detail, his face has sand and dirt in many places - and he was smiling when I picked him up. The teacher suggested it was best not to ask him a lot of questions about the day - that if I wanted to know anything, she'd be happy to talk with me. So I went with the flow and just waited to see what Connor said. His comments? "I did not eat one single bite of porridge today (regular oatmeal with maple syrup, as opposed to the instant baby oatmeal he still loves) and I did not drink one drop of water. I did enjoy eating my apple though." Uh, OK, Connor. If anyone had asked me what part of the day would stick out in Connor's mind, it would not have been snack. Tomorrow's snack is brown rice with apples. Connor has already told me it's silly because rice is normally a supper food. I guess I'll know tomorrow whether he will rethink his categorization of if he refuses to eat that as well. Monday's snack will go over well - whole wheat rolls with butter and apples - because that's what we have in the parent-child class. He also told me there were no other children and no teachers and that he just played all by himself. I'm willing to believe he didn't eat snack, but I'm not willing to believe he was alone - especially since I dropped him off and picked him up and spoke to his teacher both times.

I'm a little sad to be leaving our parent-child class. Even Ed, who is not necessarily as much a fan of Waldorf education as I am, said the time he spent in the classroom this year on two occasions was really relaxing and a nice environment. However, I am delighted that on my day off now, I can spend it with both of my children instead of feeling like I spend my day off whisking Connor away from Helen.

This experience has turned Connor into a man I guess. He refused to let me help him carry his backpack, because it was his backpack, after all. He also spent about a half hour doing craft projects while I worked from home late this afternoon and Ed prepared dinner. He did, however, still request a snuggle and book at bedtime.

The pact was broken

Quite some time ago, Ed made a pact with Connor that Connor would only poop for me. Once our nanny started coming regularly, he amended the pact to say that Connor could also poop for her. The pact was kept fairly religiously. Some days, I would come home, pick Connor up and as if on cue, Connor would take a dump (and Ed would laugh). This morning however, Connor decided that Ed deserved the treat of cleaning up his bottom before Ed had the chance to put on his glasses. Ed was woefully unprepared when he opened up Connor's diaper and he had to call for additional hands to handle the situation. Wow does solid food do a number on solid ouput!

Connor must be growing because he's eating like a trucker. Today he nursed twice before 7AM, ate 16 ounces of milk during the day and had a serving of sweet potatoes (which is 4 ounces more than normal) and then he nursed 3 more times and had peaches and oatmeal for dinner. In fact, he refused to be put into the bathtub until after I nursed him - which was super unfortunate because I nursed him sans clothes, and he promptly peed all over me and then took another dump. And then I called Ed in because I needed more hands than were available to handle the situation. He still wasn't keen on his bath, but we got the food off his face and his downtown area cleaned up. Yeah, I guess I'm a mom. While Connor was relieving himself on me I sat still, continued letting him nurse, and told him that he must be feeling better now that he got everything out of his system.



My budding yogi is practicing getting into the lotus position, something I have not even come close to mastering. He is completely enamored with his feet these days - and can reliably get them into his mouth. Sucking on toes...now that sounds like fun, right?

Oh - and I wouldn't say that Connor is rolling over, but he did roll from tummy to back twice yesterday while Ed and I cheered him on. Both times, he acted like he was going to cry the moment he plopped onto his back. I keep telling him that pretty soon we're going to have to fess up to the pediatrician that he has failed to hit the rolls over both ways by 5 months milestone. Good thing he's so cute!

Elaine