Visiting friendly folk in Seattle

We had a fantastic weekend in Seattle with the Dormers, who have recently moved back from L.A. Now that they are closer we hope to see them more often. The older Dormers are fantastic enough but the twins. DEAR LORD. I could watch them all day, particularly since they aren't mine so I don't feel responsible for their happiness and well-being.

Mila in focus, Nica not

Nica

Nica, extreme close-up

Mila, with the rest of the family in background

The girls and Beauty the wonder dog (gav gav = woof woof)

Mila, not the first shot I have of her discretely flipping me the bird

Nica and pops

Mila in the foreground, Nica in back

Noncommittal listening to the story brought to you by Mila

Nica and her tears

Smooshed baby face, Mila

Let us out!

Smooshed baby face, Nica

Possible Christmas card photo?

Mila is walking

Nica is walking

Methinks he goes through another growth spurt

What Hen has just asked to have for dinner:

scrambled eggs
hot toast (with a great deal of butter)
bean with bacon soup
spinach
corn
green beans
peanut cookie

Talking in his sleep

I'm very quietly editing photos while Huck and Darr sleep in (woot!) but Hen's love of all sea creatures is still at play because he just blurted out, "I want the sea shells." I sure do love this kid. And, yes, I am taking him back to the beach this week.

Cousin Mia joins us at the condo

My blogging has fallen way behind, which is why I'm just now posting about Cousin Mia's visit at the condo a few weeks ago. Because I wasn't thinking clearly, I scheduled car repairs, to have our flooring replaced, and to have Mia for a couple days all in the same week. Given all that was going on, the toddlers were incredibly patient and in good spirits for most of the time. However, the two yutes, when they're together, are rambunctious lil' ones. In order to pierce their giggling cacophony of toddler noise, I had to raise my voice several times. LOUDLY. Despite construction-related setbacks we still packed in trips to two different parks, a train ride, a visit to the zoo, some scootering, tree climbing, a journey to the grocery store, breakfast at Grand Central, and a walk in the mall. Of course there were pictures...

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When all else fails, use a chokehold

For years, Darr and I have fought with Beauty to drop the ball. Hen developed his own method to get the ball from her - he opted not to use our ineffective pleading and went straight to the dog chokehold. And it works.

Month Forty-three

Dear Henry,

Yep, this letter is late. I feel the appropriate level of shame, I assure you. We have entered yet another interesting, at times immensely aggravating, phase I like to call 'being three'. You are more demanding, more sure of your wants and needs - Or not sure, we can't really tell. When we ask you if you're sure about something, you always answer no. But the answer and the way in which it is given certainly implies you are sure so, um, we're in a near-constant state of befuddlement here at the condo - and more insistent on being independent than you have ever been before. This comes, however, with periods when you are far more clingy and more in need of a sympathetic ear than ever before. It is a lot of extremes, my young friend. I guess that just makes the whole parenting gig more fun than if you were just some lame kid who listened all the time and never challenged us. (Oh, sweet Mary, mother of Jesus, how I wish for that kind of kid just once in awhile or a kid who slept without a fuss at bedtime, I'll take either one.)

On the semi-annoying front, there is the continued battle with swimming. Some parents at this point might have convinced themselves it was best to put off swimming lessons. Not this mama! I can't bring myself to pull you out of swimming lessons because once you are in the pool, you always (ALWAYS!) have fun. And you're learning. I know you're learning as whenever you're in the bathtub, you're always calling me in to watch you do this or that or the other. But getting you into the pool is sometimes the most difficult part of my day, right up there with getting you to put your shoes on and getting you to pull your own pants up after you go to the bathroom to do your business. To be fair, though, we have to cinch your waist so tightly to get your pants to stay up, it's difficult to get them up and over your tiny behind.

Your memory is razor sharp. SHARP. Sha - arp. Did I mention it was sharp? For Easter, I picked up a little card for you and wrote a little something inside and you memorized the letter verbatim minus one little hiccup after only hearing it a few times. You like to win, which means you know about winning and losing, and you know you hate to lose and I now know that losing makes you very whiny and upset. My favorite is when we're racing to get somewhere and you'll tell me I can't run. If I can't run, how am I supposed to beat you, Bean? Speaking of running, you now have what I refer to as the increased velocity mode, which basically means you can kick it into high gear and totally smoke me.

We planted our "garden" (also known as two big pots and one little one) and you helped with gusto as soon as you got your gardens mittens on so your hands wouldn't get too dirty. We have tomatoes and basil in pots on the patio and you are very helpful when it comes to watering them. You were very excited to see the first bit of green from the basil seeds breaking through the top of the soil. A summer of insalata caprese is on the way. Too bad you don't really like tomatoes. Maybe you'll be more forgiving of their acidic taste when they are something you grew.

For Easter, we celebrated with Cousin Mia and Uncle Nick, going to their house for a fantastic brunch. Thanks to them (and your Aunt Megan) you have the coolest Spiderman puzzle ever made! Then we headed up to Sandy and Dick's for another feast of holiday food. You participated in your first real Easter egg hunt - both at the condo and at S and D's later in the day - but I'm pretty sure the highlight of the day for you was the trampoline. You love the trampoline. There were a couple of older kids on it in the beginning and that meant there were a few falls and jolts that were unexpected and a little painful but when you were on there by yourself and with the smaller kids, you had a blast! Jumping, jumping, jumping! It's now in your repertoire of potentially dangerous things you like to do and I don't think it'll be going away any time soon.

You like to cuddle, you think every rock, leaf, twig, blade of grass, flower, leaf, twig, and rock is some sort of sea creature. And you went to bring them all into the condo to live. You braved the Pacific Ocean in May on a day that wasn't particularly all that warm, in your underwear. (You have that kind of crazy confidence.) You lug the cats around all the time, ignoring their pleas to be released, and yet you seem surprised when they eventually take a cautionary swipe at you. You still have your own jar of peanut butter. You jump off the counter in the bathroom, you've learned how to rinse AND spit, a huge improvement from the rinse, swallow, drool a bit on your shirt method you employed in your younger months. You connect words - like O is connected to K and spells OK or tug is connected to boat and spells tugboat. You're loud and adventurous and charming and sweet and shy and fast, and all that I can say is that parenting, for all its ups and downs, is one heckuva magical gig, thanks to you, Bean.

Love,
Mama

Portland Art Museum

Hen and I headed to the museum today to check out some rockin' art. His reaction upon seeing this guy was to say, within earshot of the museum educator I might add, "Mama, that guy has a penis." Hen enjoyed this Chairman Mao piece. He also posed for a photo with a statue (that ended up being blurry - d'oh!), did not run anywhere, and only touched the glass of one case as we were leaving when he was feeling particularly daring. Then we went outside so he could run around and burn some of that pent up energy. Keeping quiet is hard work when you're three and a half.

Epic battle

A few weeks ago there was an epic battle at the condo building house - Hen and the Superheroes versus me, Lizard, and an army of dinosaurs. Neither of us are terribly skilled tacticians. I attempted a flanking attack on the side of the Bat Cave using baby dinosaurs, Hen outmaneuvered me using Superman's plane and attacking from behind. I sent the humpback whale and narwhal into waters that ran beneath the cave hoping to breach Hen's defenses, but he countered with a flying yellow bug. Lizard gallantly rode a velociraptor to the front gate only to meet Spiderman, Batman, and a man-controlled giant robot. Needless to say, I ended up surrendering. But rather than throw me into the torture pit, Hen's team and my team made peace. We built a Lego condo building house for my guys, erected an Italian town, and sent the baby dinosaurs to superhero school at the Bat Cave.

Month Forty-two

Dear Henry,

Your favorite word of the month is no. Oy vey. When we tell you not to do something, you might also respond with a "I used to but now I don't" or "we do but we don't". It's very cute but annoying as I'll get out to have a three year old - dare I say it? - disobey you. That's right, little man. We hope for complete obedience. But in your first concerted effort to assert your independence, you will often consider the request we've made, evaluate it and its impact on your life, and then, typically, say no. So we're forced to explain ourselves further. Yes, I have actually said that I, in fact, make the rules in the house. I'm not sure you believe me, though. We shall see in the coming months and years how this plays out, my little firecracker. By the way, if I had actually just called you a firecracker out loud, you would have responded with a "I'm not a firecracker, I'm a Henry."

But I shouldn't complain. Overall, you are a pretty great kid. You now will look into the camera and sometimes even (gasp!) pose for me when I ask you to. You are busy figuring out time and the beginnings of mathematics. For instance, we'll set a time for you to do something - such as cleaning up before we head to bed - and you'll increase the number we've set by fifteen and ten and one and four minutes worth of time, convinced this is a very long time. You know that such things as tomorrow and yesterday and last night and next week exist but the concepts are a bit shaky. This means that when you're telling pops about our day, you'll say that something we did that morning happened next week or that when it's your birthday (in October) last week, you want an Iron Man superhero toy from the store we went to yesterday this morning. Say what? When was that again?

There used to be this show on t.v. called Kids Say the Darndest Things. I'm sure this would have won you some prize because your response to the comment that I was freezing my butt off was, "No, you're not. I hooked it on for you." Thanks, Bean. After hearing the Dinosaur Train theme song, you turned to me and wistfully said that you wished you could ride the dinosaur train when you were a dinosaur. But my all-time favorite is the word mash-up of "you're breaking my heart" and "you're killing me," which comes out as "you're killing my heart". I occasionally hear this, usually after I have just told you that you can't get a toy at the store. Or that candy. And you can't have a jellybean until after you finish your lunch.

In the skills department you're kicking some major, wait - not appropriate. You're doing very well. You use the scoop to feed the cats their food and when a nugget happens to fall on the ground, you pick it up, put it back in the scoop, and then dump it in their bowl. No shortcuts for you. You used to stop your scooter by dragging your foot along the floor. This worked fine until you used this technique in the carpeted hallway of our building without socks. (Can you say, "rug burn?" Yikes.) But then you figured out the breaking mechanism built into the design of the scooter and now use that, although dragging your shoe on the floor is also popular and surprisingly effective. We now make you put on socks when you ride in the hallway.

I want to say that you're sleeping better, or rather that you're going to sleep better but I feel that is just tempting fate to prove us wrong so I'll not do that and instead explain that you still love reading seventeen and two and four and three and eight books before bedtime. And you adore sea creatures, particularly your narwhal. What's not to love about the underwater unicorn, eh, son?

Love,
Mama

Sleepover One: Amelia

We hosted our first kid sleepover on Saturday when Cousin Mia joined us at the condo. The kids play so well together. I'm convinced they sense a familial bond because Hen and Mia play in a way that is different  than the way Hen plays with any of his other friends, including those he sees far more regularly. I had hoped to have them watch Dumbo but technical difficulties (in the form of a 7-hour download time from iTunes (wtf, Apple?)) prevented that so the kids ate some food, enjoyed a bubble bath with much splashing, scootered around, kicked soft balls, and maintained a general level of merriment until bed time. Getting the kids to sleep at a somewhat acceptable hour was achieved by separating the kids (thanks for the tip, Amber!) - Hen went into our room with his pops, and I stayed with Amelia in Hen's room. I read Mia a couple of books, rocked her, and occasionally checked on her until she was asleep. The next morning, the tots had a pre-brunch breakfast and then we headed out to brunch (which will be covered more thoroughly in the following post). Of course, there were pictures...

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Sunday brunch, part thirteen

Rachele and Jay hosted the latest brunch, also known as the Red brunch (since red was the theme). So, yeah, there was a potato frittata, the cutest heart-shaped biscuits, cherry scones, meats (pork! pork! and more PORK!), croissants (not red but still delicious), winter salad (with blood red oranges and red grapefruit), one large pastry item I don't know the name of, and strawberry sheet cake. And a beet salad. (Yep, the beet salad gets its own sentence.) It should be noted that there were at least two sauces that were served with the meal (both red) but as I don't really do sauces all that much, I didn't, um, remember the names. (My apologies to our host and hostess. What can I say? I'm rude that way.) This was the first time we got to bring a guest (Cousin Mia!) with us and she did splendidly. Of course, there were pictures...

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Per Darr's request, iPad users can click here to view the photos. You're welcome.

We Henryized her!

I got to watch Avery for an hour the other day and it occurred to me as we headed outdoors that I had effectively Henryized her. Gone were the cute black patent leather flats all full of bling, replaced by a much more practical pair of green and yellow sneakers perfect for scaling railroad ties along the tracks by our house. (Did I mention we live down by the river?) I also added a handmade blue and green knitted cap for the old noggin' and a bulky brown jacket 'cause it be cold outside. She was then given a soccer ball to carry because one mustn't leave the house without a soccer ball. The ensemble was complete when we found awesome sticks* to ward off the pirates we suspected might be on the trail. It pays to be prepared, ya'll.

*Is it just me or does Avery look like she's thinking, "What the f--k am I holding this stick for?"

I've been schooled

Dropped Darr off at work and hit Safeway to grab some cereal bars since we left the house before Hen had a chance to eat some breakfast.

Hen: Mama, can I have a cereal bar, please?

Me: Yeah, Hen, I'm trying to get into the box.

Hen: <insert toddler sigh here>You open the box. And you, you stick your hand in the box. You get the cereal bar. And I can have it!

A penguin in the family

Hen is now a penguin! I had already signed him up for another round of goldfish but when I looked at the back of his completion certificate, he had done what was needed* to get to the next level. I'm very pleased, and pleasantly surprised, with this turn of events - all from the kid who didn't really participate the first couple of classes. Luckily, I was able to switch and get him into the penguin class with Teacher Ryan again. He's awesome! Plus, we signed up for soccer on our way out!

* Skills taught at this level include: safely entering and exiting the pool, shallow water adjustment, introduction to the flutter kick, blow bubbles (5 second count), put face in water, assisted front float, assisted back float, use of P.F.D. lifejacket, assisted back and front glides with equipment and kicks, and assisted jump into shallow water.

Month Thirty-nine

Dear Henry,

You started this past month learning to climb steps two at a time. As you explained many, many times, this is the way superheroes ascend stairs. And you are a superhero. You're actually any number of superheroes, including but not limited to Spiderman, Batman, Captain America, Superman, Wolverine, and Magnet Man. According to you, firemen, doctors, and garbage mans are also superheroes because they save people, and they take garbage away. So, there you go.

You're just at the cusp of sort of beginning to nearly understand what Christmas for us is all about. Family, food, presents, and Christmas decorations. It took you nearly all day to open your gifts. I blame the recycling truck with sidearm and bins because once you saw that sucker, you were done, at least for the next couple of hours. You also enjoyed your first sticky bun. I'm guessing these will now become a family tradition, along with our ham and homemade mac n' cheese dinner. A few days later, we went to Mt. Hood for sledding with our friends. You're a natural but you really, really dislike getting your hands wet and cold. I can't say I blame you.

You started swimming lessons after the holidays. To say you were hesitant to participate would be putting it mildly. I don't believe it was fear but there was something that had you clinging to my side for the first few lessons. It took a lot of cajoling and bribing and, finally, explaining that the lifeguards were superheroes to get you into the water. It didn't hurt that Teacher Ryan is friends with Aquaman. Along with swimming, I signed you up for a Hip Hop class with your two best buds, Avery and Josie. It's you, one other boy (who may or may not be coming to future classes), and a bunch of girls. You sat out for most of the first class and nearly all of the second but you're getting more comfortable and you're learning to dance! And this is truly good because I dance like I'm in a 1990s alternative club for teens and your father dances like, well, like how he dances. Neither of us are skilled in this area.

Your latest quirk is to answer any question I pose to you by asking it back to me. "Hen? What are you doing?" "What are you doing, mama?" You are also very affectionate as of late, always hugging me and patting me. Perhaps it was a mistake to tell you I was going to the Mexico! in a few months because I think you're touching me all the time to make sure I'm there. On the occasional evening I do have to leave you at home there is usually a quick chat in which I explain that 1. I am leaving, and B) I'll be back. Sometimes that reassurance is enough to calm you, sometimes it isn't. But you are a nice boy and you do insist on opening the door for me. We stopped breast feeding several months ago but you're still a little hung up on the boobs. Often when you climb into our bed in the morning, you'll snuggle close and then explain to me that I have boobs and that "they used to make mama's milk, but now they don't". That pretty much sums that up.

Somehow guns have entered your realm of consciousness and now you're shooting all sorts of things using any number of different non-gun items around the house. A few days ago you fashioned a gun out of a chip bag clip and a straw. On the one hand, I applaud the creativity. On the other, it's a gun. It should be said, though, that you only shoot the bad guys. And I've explained that we don't kill people with guns, that if we have to shoot, we only shoot to stop the bad guys, and that we then throw the bad guys into jail and rehabilitate them. Rehabilitate, by the way, is really hard for you to pronounce. I like that you try, and that it usually comes out sounding like re-hav-el-itate. You're getting better at controlling your behavior, which is awesome. It sucks to have to put you in time out.

Lately, I've taken to calling you "dude". As in "Let's go, dude," or "Hurry up, dude." And you always reply, "I'm not a dude, I'm a Henry." Yes, you are, Bean. The bestest Henry of the bunch.

Love,
Mama

Toddler activities

Now that Hen is officially no longer attending daycare we are finding new ways to fill our time. Two new activities on the schedule are swimming lessons (every Monday and Wednesday) and dance lessons (the Tiny Hip Hoppers class on Fridays). Hen is a hesitant participant. I don't believe it's fear based as he seems able to do whatever he's attempting once he decides to try it. It's getting him to take that initial step. So far we've had four swim lessons. Hen eventually participated in the first class but then sat out for most of the second and third class - he allowed Teacher Ryan to help him do a "Spiderman" jump into the pool during the second and he retrieved a floating duck and (nearly) returned it to the teacher when she was in the water with the other kids during the third. But the fourth class, when there was only one other kid there, he was in the water playing with the teacher and his other classmate for almost the entire class.*

Untitled from Christie Glynn on Vimeo.


The dance class? Oy vey. It's Hen, one other boy, and maybe eight girls. While prodding him to go and line up with the rest of the class, Hen turned to me and said, "Boys don't dance." And it's sort of true for this class as neither Hen nor the other boy take part. Since I was still bummed over his (lack of) performance during the first class, I basically bribed him into performing today. The deal, if he would dance and listen to Teacher Erica, we'd head over to the zoo. And so my boy got out there and danced. Reluctantly, sure, but he did it.

Hip hop Humpty Dumpty from Christie Glynn on Vimeo.


PlayDate PDX is quickly becoming our go-to place for Friday mornings before dance class. And we also hit Play Boutique in Lake Oswego earlier this week. Next up we might have to try the Portland Children's Museum again.

*Watch closely and you can see a dude walk past in a Speedo. As Megan so wonderfully described it, "how very European".

A little hesitant to walk into the water

Hen's the only boy in the class. 
The blurry girl on the left in the background is Avery.

Question: Why garbage trucks, Hen? Why?

Darr shared this article with me the other day and I find it quite interesting as a parent of a young boy in love with garbage/recycling trucks. The title is awesome - The Evolutionary and Cognitive Basis of the Cultural Success of Garbage Trucks Among Western Toddlers. Seriously, that is one bad-ass title. I love that the author (Nicolas Baumard) is so excited his young son stayed focused on one thing for 18 minutes. Having a lil' monster, I mean, Bean, of my own I know how incredibly amazing it is when this happens. Here's one of the video links, you know, in case you have your own little garbage truck-lovin' son.

Sledding caught on tape*

Kids with sled from Christie Glynn on Vimeo.


*Well, video but tape sounds better.

A Sledding Story

We went sledding! At the mountain! There was snow! Alexandra was with me!

Alexandra gave me a hug. In the snow. Because we were at the mountain. And there was snow there.

We got to run in the snow. I like to run. Running in the snow is pretty cool. The snow goed "crunch crunch".

My mama asked me to smile but I typically refrain from such visual displays of happiness. Unless I am playing with my garbage and recycling trucks. The recycling truck picks up the recycling. Like plastic. And cardboard. And papers. And plastic. And then, we're recycling!

Snow angels are not my thing.

Alexandra shared her foods with me. I eat the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

On the way home, mama told me to smell our stinky feets so we did. It seemed like a good idea at the time.