Almost there....!

Abeona House passed it latest round of inspections and it looks like we may have an open school sometime in September (!)

The website is also up; just finished by a parent who is about 10 months pregnant. Paul and Will are each in a picture on the front page (I was behind the camera for several of the shots). You can also read an article about Abeona in "Parents Action" linked from the home page. Being a part of this effort -- driven by such inspirational and dedicated people -- has made me so happy to live in New Orleans.

Good Morning, Sunshine!

Will on hunger: "Mommy, my tummy very empty. Nothing in it at all."
Will on Baby Kate: "She's our super-pooper."
Will on why the breastpump isn't filling when he uses it: "I putting it in the wrong place."
Will on going to the bathroom, announced during dinner at the Dew Drop Inn: "I tinkling."
You can see these pictures and more -- some incredibly funny as I encouraged Will to "smile" -- at our Shutterfly Collection (www.coldspaghetti.shutterfly.com). Registration required for purchases only.

Louisiana Children's Museum

Last Friday was another date for Will and Aya (and tag-a-long Baby Kate) at the Louisiana Children's Museum. Part of the Dr. Seuss exhibit: hanging on a beam with Circus McGurkus. A camera captures your pose and displays it on a screen above where you appear as if you're really hanging in air.
Will drives the streetcar.
More Circus McGurkus.
Would you, could you, on a train?

(Play)date

Will teaches Aya pinball. He showed her how to work the flipper -- he worked the right side, she the left.



Bob the Builder legos!


Snack time: watermelon, goldfish, blueberries!


And where was Kate? Watching them with rapt attention. All in all, it was not particularly difficult watching 2 2-year olds plus an infant... although it is definitely much, much easier when all the kids are the same age. Two words: "Constant Alert!"









Pirate Captain Will, complete with skeleton band-aids.

Truth in Advertising

My kids wear things with phrases like, "Little Angel," "Sweet Boy," and "Cutie Pie." While those may be based on truth, so are phrases like "Up All Night."

With that in mind, I'm thinking of a craft project for truth in kid advertising. T-shirts that display all aspects of having kids. Some examples:
"Driving Mom to Drink"
"Pulls poop from diaper"
"Spits like a champ"
"10 dirty diapers daily"
"Not 'using my words'"
"Sleep all day, party all night"
"Bites while nursing"
"Eats bogeys"

Par-TAY!

Where: Wherever Kate happens to be
When: 11pm-4am
What: Dance, dance, dance, sing, and dance some more!

Kate turned into ultra rock star last night. Perfectly happy, unwilling to sleep, and ready to wake up everyone in her presence to join in on the fun. Paul moved to the couch, lucky guy. I got her to zonk in her cradle swing but couldn't fall asleep to the creaking of the chair -- it was a long night for Mom. She is completely zonked now. I'm pretty certain that I could blow a bullhorn beside her head and she would simply roll to her side.

Caffeine, anyone?

Dinosaur Stick

New obsession: foam stickers. We found some on clearance ($2.39!) and Will has been having a blast with them... one set is flowers and the other... dinosaurs! He has a very slight lisp when he says "dinosaurs" ("dinosaurthsss!!") which makes it even more fun to do these crafts with him. He gives each dino a name and roars while placing them on the page. Quite the man. Although for me, it's the Superman shades that make it.

Firsts

She rolled over, back to front, on purpose. I put her face up on her playmat while making Will lunch. Moments later, Paul came in to find her happily talking away to the girafe on the mat, bobbing away on her belly. Go Kate!

New Developments

Two new and exciting events have been unfolding in our household.

1. Kate is taking showers.
2. Kate is sleeping in her crib.

Yes, I bring our 15 week old baby into the shower. Showering is getting to be a full group experience: me, Will, Kate, and Butch, the 3-inch tall driver of Will's dump truck. The four of us just rock out in the little hall bath. Will plays at my feet and generally tries to be helpful as I lather Kate into a slippery noodle and then hand her off to Paul for dressing. Scared yet? It's not a big deal in our book. Of course, we also put her to sleep on the soft bedding of our bed, have stuffed toys in her crib, allow her to sleep on her tummy, and give her matches for teething.

Kate is not sleeping in her crib through the night; I don't imagine that this will happen until she's over a year old. We've been trying to introduce the concept of sleeping in the crib over the past few weeks and now she is starting the night there, going to bed around the same time as Will. She joins us by 1am. Last night she announced her readiness to get in the big bed by pooping all over her crib. I guess we deserved this by sticking with the size 2 Baby Dry diapers; we really should switch if we want to be leak-free.

Parts, Part 3

An informal survey of some Abeona families shows that everyone is using the real words. In fact, I have yet to find anyone who isn't.

We are all now regularly using "penis" when Will uses the potty. (He is "tinkling" in the potty a few times a day.) There has been no real opportunity to discuss how Mommy is different from Daddy. The closest we've come to discussing genitals, babies, or anything else of that nature is when he checks out my Cesarean scar and I explain that he and Baby Kate came out of me in that spot. Future goals: figuring out how and when to work in the issues relating to privacy and good-touch/bad-touch.

Daycare Matters

Everything is on hold this week as we throw ourselves behind the efforts to get Abeona House open. It will be the first new daycare/preschool to open post-Katrina, an effort almost a year in making. How hard can it be to open a daycare in New Orleans? Rocket science may be easier. Or, at least, less stressful and frustrating. Paul has done a great job in helping with the many construction projects that need to be completed before inspection on Thursday. He'll blog about these. The picture above is the mammoth handicap ramp. Next hurricane, we're weathering it under this ramp. Renee and I watched kids today while parents worked outside. The babies aren't featured in the picture above. Lesson: child-watching is much more difficult when age ranges include babies.
"I flying!"
Abeona House Child Discovery Center! (With Paul in the front working on the stairs.)

Parts, Part 2

I went with my gut today and began to use the words "penis" and "testicles" with Will. Paul wasn't around for most of the day so he has yet to learn of my independent decision. It will take some work to get Paul in line with the phraseology; this is the man who somehow got Will to use the word "bubbie" to ask to nurse.

I'm still curious to what other parents have done or what other people grew up saying... maybe it's time for an informal playdate survey!?

Warning

Consumption of blueberries may lead to very, very black, loose stools from preschool age child. Proceed with caution. (Don't have a freak-out... like I did this afternoon.)

Private Parts

We are getting closer and closer to actual potty training. Which means we have a serious choice to make: How do we teach Will about private parts?

And more importantly: What do we call those parts?

All the information I've found says to use the real words (penis, vagina, vulva). In truth, I agree with this completely. I have no problem using those words, explaining what our private parts are for (tolieting and making babies) and being clear that these parts are private, to be touched only by yourself, a close caretaker during washing, or doctor.

Still, we resist. Maybe it's because we have been parents long enough to know that those words will surface in terribly embarrassing moments once they've been unleashed. Or maybe it's because we're just uptight. Either way, we stayed up late into the night last night discussing possible alternatives.

We were throwing out sounds and making up words to represent "penis," when I suggested "zombo." Paul immediately giggled and said, "Oh, no. Not zombo."

"Why, what is 'zombo?'"

"You don't know? Come with me to the computer."

If you are like me and have not been introduced to zombo, please, stop reading and go directly to www.zombo.com. If you do not, you will be cheating yourself. Go to the website and be confused. Be sure that your volume is on. Give it a good 5 minutes or so.

After being introduced to 15footstick's early-internet WTF?! joke, we decided that, if we went with made up names, zombo would totally be our word for penis.

Which leaves us in a quandry. Should Daddy have a zombo? (We're not sure what Mommy should have. Top choices include "pente" and "bunky.") We like zombo so much that we're having a hard time doing what we think is right (i.e.: using the real words.) We actually can't remember what words we learned as kids, although we both agreed that they were made-up words and not the real stuff. So would it really be that damaging to use made-up words? Or should we just stick with the real stuff and deal with the laughs it might bring in mixed company?

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful weekend

If Rick Blaine had lived in New Orleans and not Casablanca, he would have had the opportunity to say this a lot.

Last night we enjoyed the Pfister Sisters at "The Big Top," an art gallery/funky space/music hall/non-profit arts education center. They have "Friday Night Music Camp" from 5-7 with live music and art projects for kids. Our Music Together class met there last night. Will made a hip little glue-paper-cutout design on origami paper and everyone got their groove on to the swing-back songs. (Note: that little boy is not Will, but he was pretty darn cute staring up at the stage!)












Early this morning, we followed up the previous night with another art project: foam stickers. Will *loved* them.













Then we had our last summer session of Music Together. Paul joined us early on, which is great because it allows us each to take a kid. About halfway through the class (once Will got really crazy) Paul left to finish a project for Abeona House in the next room. After class we hung around to speak to Renee (the music instructor, an Abeona teacher and our friend), nurse Kate, change a poop, and catch-up with some Abeona events.













An example of how living is New Orleans is not all beads and cake: Paul's project was to add rails to a changing table to "bring it up to code." The table was a donation from another, very well established and respected preschool, the Newman School. It had been used there for many years. But because that School has been around for awhile (and has a history of serving the "society" generations), they are somewhat extempt from all the bullshit Abeona has had to deal with. To show the ridiculous level of the "code" -- this particular changing table is actually deeper than the other with-bar changing tables in the House, yet the inspector refused to let us open without adding bars to the table or removing it. Rather than throw it out, Paul volunteered to put his woodworking skills to it, using scrap wood we had in the back. Hopefully, Paul will blog soon about some of the other hoops Abeona has had to jump through; he can tell the stories better than me. Seriously: New Orleans is an AWESOME place to live. If it weren't a completely unique, amazing experience, no one would put up with the crap we have to deal with to live here.















I digress. After class, as is our tradition, we headed down a few blocks to Oak Street Cafe. Friendly staff who know us, eat up our kids, and serve great food. Plus the NOLA charm of live piano, blue plate specials, local coffee, and neighborhood style -- we love it.


Paul is juggling in the park with the NOLA juggling club and the kids are napping as I write this. I'm not sure what this afternoon holds, but we're off to a great start!

Whatcha doin' Will?

"I working."

Say What?

Will has a Jack-in-the-box at my parents' house. It is a standard model with "Jack" dressed in a clown-inspired hat and suit, with cartoons of clowns juggling and unicycling on the sides. When he turns the handle and Jack pops out, Will always calls out, "Daddy!"





My Mother made the slip of calling out, "that sucks a big one!" when she overcooked bacon in the microwave this morning. Will, who was happily playing on the porch, conveniently decided to get involved in that moment: just as the words escaped Granna's mouth, Will came charging into the kitchen shouting, "that sucks big one!" I looked down and shouted, "PEANUT BUTTER", my distraction tactic to keep Will from repeating less-than-desireable phrases he hears from his mother's family. Usually Will compiles. Today he just looked at me and repeated, "that sucks BIG one!" He put special emphasis on the "big," as if to gently remind me that this phrase was now perminently saved in his personal lexicon. Thankfully, I kept my follow-up response (Damn!) to myself.

A few months ago, Will was Determined to Do Everything Himself. This included feeding himself, combing his hair, putting on clothes, and brushing his teeth. Lately there has been a huge regression of these behaviors: he asks to be fed, for someone else to brush his teeth, and doesn't complain when one of us goes after his hair.


Kate is back to her super-pooper status. 5 big ones today; 4 of which overflowed up the back. This is an indication that we probably need to switch diapers to ones with a more cinching waist. We recently went from Pampers Swaddlers to the less expensive Pampers Baby Dry... I think we need to go either go back to Swaddlers or into Cruisers. Baby Dry does a great job on holding in leg leaks, but the waist doesn't have the same give.

Morning Stats

3: Poopie diapers from each kid
4: Outfits for Kate
3: Minutes Kate spent in the pool before the sun came out
5: Times I helped Will to swim to the bottom of the pool to pick up one of his toys before the whole thing freaked me out too much
2: Bandaids Will has had on his fingers
2: Times Will watched "National Geographic Really Wild Animals: Ocean" while pretending to be a shark
26: Sweet Pickles books that currently serve as Will's primary reading choice

Nite-Nite Time

I struggle at each day’s end. Tucking Will in to bed, we sing songs. Usually I take requests, given by suggestion. “Would you like…. Hushabye Mountain? Goodnight My Someone? Loverly? I’d Do Anything? Surrey with the Fringe on Top?…”

Lately, Will smiles his sly smile and offers some faux titles based on his current obsessions. “How ‘bout Monster Song? Shark Song? Dinosaur Song? Tarantula Song?”

Some nights, I do my best to make up a song on his chosen theme. But even on those nights, we end with a song from our established repertoire.

Sometimes, he sings along. Sometimes Kate is there in bed with us, curled up in between. Sometimes, she sings, too.

No matter the song, or the singer(s), Will always follows up our lullabies with requests of cuddles. He asks specifically “to cuddle Mommy” and expects this cuddling to be all-night, or at least until-he-falls-asleep.

I always cuddle for a least a few minutes. Then the struggle begins. Kate gets fussy and needs burped or walked. Paul has asked me to help him with a project after Will is in bed. Laundry needs to be folded, dishes to be done, cats to be fed, trash to be taken out. Maybe I want some time to be Alone. These trivial tasks compel me to move. The stuff of life creeps into my head and pulls me away from the pillow I share with my son.

I know in a few years, years that will pass so quickly that I will forever be asking how they passed by so fast, I will long for these nights. I will miss my child that asks for his mother to cuddle him to bed. Miss his arms pulling me to his side, resting his head on my shoulder.

Priorities

Will, waking up from his afternoon nap: “Where’s PapPap?”

“PapPap’s at work, honey.”

“Oh, need to wait here for him.”

“We do?”

"Yeah. I gotta go t' golf course. Gotta hit balls with PapPap."

Destructor No More

Kate is 14 weeks old today.














Will is 1 week shy of being 2 years and 9 months old.

One of the biggest surprises of the past 14 weeks is that Will has not tried to destroy his sister. I felt certain that we would see some type of aggression or jealousy from him. The warnings of this behavior line each chapter on sibling preparation and the anxiety over it put me on high alert in Kate’s early weeks.

Now am I not so guarded. Sure, Will has his moments. For example, Will is very clear about when and where Kate can use “his” things. There are times when Kate sitting in Will’s bean bag or using his blanket are Not Okay. But there are other times when he willfully extends the use of these items to his “baby sister.”

A friend of mine was visiting and was shocked to see Will jump up to Kate’s side when she woke up from a nap on her playmate and cried out. He rushed to her, found her pacifier, and put it gently in her mouth, all the while cooing to her, “it’s okay sweet girl.”

“Are you sure 2-year olds can’t feel empathy?” She asked me. “Because THAT sure looks like empathy to me!”

What shocks me about Will's practice of soothing Kate is that I'm so used to it that sometimes I actually wait for him to attend to her, forgetting that my 2-year old does not yet qualify as a suitable babysitter. His level of helpfulness betrays the truth of his age.

He delights at the attention Kate gives him. "She's smiling at me!" he proudly declares. Kate dutifully responds by giving him rapt attention whenever he is nearby. The draw of Will trumps all other distractions, food included; she will stop everything to soak in her big brother.

In Today's Edition of The Race News...

Amazon-a-mania

After the doctor's office we drove on to the Aquarium!
The Amazon exhibit was a key part of today's trip. Will especially liked the anaconda. (I especially did NOT. I swear that snake eyes me up and down each time we visit.)
Although the big snake certainly has Will as a fan, nothing beats sharks. In the picture below, Will observes the baby nurse sharks. (The Big Sharks have a separate, big room viewing area. This is where I like to hang out and nurse Baby Kate while Paul chases Will around the rest of the exhibits. I think of it as a breastfeeding perk.)

Will named each of the baby sharks today. Some were "Mommy Shark," some were "Daddy Shark," some were "Will Shark" and some were... wait for it... "Baby Kate FISH." (And you thought he'd be predictable.)
We followed up the Aquarium with lunch in the Canal Place food court Grille: pecan catfish and burgers. Will especially likes the glass elevators in the 'Place, which we are doing our best to teach him to recognize as a "Wonka 'Vator."

3-month Wellness

Kate, 3 months and 2 days old:
- Height: 23 1/2 inches long (50%)
- Weight: 13 lbs, 14 oz (90%)
- Head: 41 cm (75%)
- Two immunizations: DTaP and IPV

Will, 2 years and 8 months old (just there for a shot):
- Weight: 31.4 pounds
- One immunization: Hep A

Both kids did great, NEITHER cried during their shots!

Tomato Pie

If you ask Paul why he married me, I'm pretty sure he'll tell you two reasons: 1. Dream Dessert, and 2. Tomato Pie.

The original tomato pie recipe had disappeared a few years back and I'd been having trouble making it as perfect as I had in the past. My Mom magically found the recipe and sent it on to me yesterday. I tried it out tonight and can vouch that it is as sound as ever. Much too good of a jewel not to pass on -- complete with family secrets in the notes below!

TOMATO PIE

2 C. buttermilk baking mix (Bisquick)
2/3 C. whole milk
4 large tomatoes
3/4 C. mayonnaise
1 C. sharp cheddar cheese, grated
Grated onion to taste*
Salt & pepper to taste
Italian seasoning to taste

Mix together baking mix and milk and spread in lightly greased 9-inch pie pan.

Cover tomatoes with boiling water and let stand a few minutes. Drain. Peel and slice thinly. Layer tomatoes with onion, salt, pepper, & Italian seasoning on top of unbaked pie shell until pie is level.

Mix together cheese & mayonnaise. Carefully spread over top of pie.

Bake at 400 degrees** for 20-25 minutes until nicely browned. Let set for a few minutes before slicing.

*I like to use a large Vidalia onion sliced thinly and lightly sautéed to a golden brown instead of the grated onion.

**I have found 400 degrees can cook the topping too fast and not cook the crust all the way through in the middle so I start the temperature at 375 degrees for 10 minutes and then lower to 350 degrees and cook for about 20-25 minutes more. I use a clear glass Pyrex pie dish to watch to see that the crust is browning.

Freecycle Dilemma

I joined New Orleans' freecycle group a few months ago and have used it to pass on a bunch of things... from fence boards to packages of unused hotel soap to shoes. I posted some baby boy items that were given to me from a neighbor... a cap, bathing suit, blue crib blanket, etc. Quickly after posting, an interested party emailed me.

But I am unsettled over her email. For one, her email name is something like "Resaler Cindy," which makes me think that she may be trying to profit from freecycle, which bothers me. Second, she says she wants it "for a friend," but did so in all lowercase letters with no punctuation and a typo. I have no problem with quick, un-punctuated, lowercase notes from friends, but my goodness... when it is a formal request to be given an item for free, maybe writing a sentence would be good form! She's not ee cummings for crying out loud. Sheesh.

In the past, when I've received messages that give me pause, the person has been flaky and pick-up has been a pain. So I initially thought I'd just skip her message and go to the next person. But no one else has responded! What to do...?

Role of the First Born

As an eldest girl in 4 generations of eldest girls, I grew up sensitive to the roles of being first born. I was expected to be responsible, aware, in control, helpful, and dutiful. In contrast, I was very aware of the different expectations put on my brother, the youngest and the baby. In my (perhaps jaded) view, his role was simply to be loved and adored. Now that I have two children, I feel I can much better understand the dynamic. First children break you in, completely destroying you in the process. The following child (or children) are easy, simple joys.
People ask all the time, "is it harder with two?" And the answer, of course, is "YES." But not for the reasons I would have thought. Once you've gone through it once, having a baby is EASY. It is nothing like the first time, when you are totally overwhelmed, struggle with everything, and never get a chance to embrace the joy of motherhood. Having a second doesn't make it harder because babies are complicated; having a second makes it harder because you've still got to deal with your first. The next children aren't the ones who make parenting tough. It's figuring out each stage your oldest is going through that kicks your butt.
So, while Will is a fantastic two-year old and is a source of tremendous love and entertainment, he is the one constantly pushing me as a parent. He is the one who forces me to learn, testing his (and my) limits, leading me down new paths and asking me to be a better person. Kate will do her own testing, I'm certain, but it will not be as rough because I'll have already experienced the first frustrations and challenges from Will.
Maybe this is why first children are so heavily relied upon; we parents look to them to help us learn to be parents. We look to Will to guide us on how to be a family and to teach us what makes good parenting. He breaks us in; Kate reeps the benefits. Mothering Kate makes me feel confident and complete in my role as a mother in a way I never felt when I was learning with Will. I look at her and see that the difficulties of parenting are still moments of joy, because ultimately, they are rooted in the tremendous love you feel for your children. When life was "just Will," I was too busy learning to see it.
If I am a good parent, and I believe that I am, it is because of Will and how he has taught me, pushed me, and challenged me into being a better person.