I have a confession to make:
I love sleeping with my kids. I love feeling them as they turn towards me in slumber, their shallow breath puffing gently on my face. I love curling around them as they rest and grow, tucked safely under my arm.
I also love my husband and marriage, so the kids sleep in their own beds. Most of the time. Ever since we let Mocha in the bed when she was a pup, poor Scott has always been on the business end of whatever creature was in the bed. I get all the nice, cuddly parts and he gets kicked. Or, in the case of when Mo was little and she'd sleep around my head like a halo, he'd roll over to spoon me and get a face full of dog butt.
I think that Violet and I were crazy spoiled on vacation -- the days we weren't out and about during naptime, she and I nursed and snuggled to sleep on Milo's opened sleeping bag, like a couple of pickles on a hamburger bun. It was so nice to nod off with her little hand on my neck or her cheek pressed into my shoulder.
I love the little twitchy dance the kids do as they let the last bit of their consciousness slide away. I love how malleable their faces look. I love that moment when they start sleep breathing.
I remember coming home from Epcot Center after fireworks the last time we were in Florida -- Milo had fallen asleep in the lap of my dad's wife Robin and when it came time to load the bus for the ride back to the hotel, I eagerly volunteered to take his weight. Clutching him to my chest as the gears on the bus groaned and the brakes hissed, I held him there, his sweaty little face against the pulse on my neck. The bus was crowded and everyone was volunteering to hold him to "give me a break," not understanding that that WAS the break -- that when he was sacked out on me I was recharging my batteries in the sleepy glow of adoration.
It's not that kids are hard to love when they're awake, it's just that it's impossible NOT to love them when they are asleep. There's no bad behavior or wrong choice that can withstand the forgiving visage of a sleeping child. I can feel mind-numbing frustration with them when they're awake and pushing all of my buttons at once, but the minute sleep settles them, my heart melts and I'm falling in love all over again, my breath stolen.
Perhaps it is their utter vulnerability.
Perhaps it is mine.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
The Jedi Academy Doesn't Allow Moms
While on vacation, Milo told me this little gem:
"Mom! The moon says it loves me!"
The moon was, in fact, smiling down on us brightly, hanging in the sky like a slice of ripe melon. The cosmos was celebrating with us.
My little buddy had a fantastic fourth birthday in California. It was pretty much any kid's dream birthday as we went to Disneyland to take advantage of the "Free admission on your birthday" promotion. Because Violet is not yet two, the four of us got in for the price of two tickets! Not bad!
There were two things which we were interested in doing at the Happiest Place on Earth -- meeting Cinderella and watching and maybe participating in the Jedi Academy show. Well, the line to meet Cinderella was 90 minutes all three times we checked on it, so we decided that since Violet didn't know she was going to miss seeing Cinderella, we would skip it and save the princess meet-and-greet for the next trip. After our first attempt at seeing the royalty, we checked the show schedule and determined that one of the presentations for the Jedi Academy was concluding and that if we bustled over to Tomorrowland, we could score some prime real estate at the front of the crowd for the next presentation.
Milo and I sat down on the terrazzo floor in front of the stage while Scott, Violet and our dear friends Carol, Alex and Hannah grabbed some lunch. While we waited the 45 minutes for the next show, Milo and I talked about what we were going to watch and I told him that they would pick some kids from the audience (aged 4-11) to participate and learn how to be a Jedi.
"You mean like learning how to use a light saver? And the Force?"
Yes, exactly that. Milo's eyes widened.
Now, as I've blogged before, he's been struggling with some social anxiety for the last 15 months or so; I really thought that he would balk if I suggested that he volunteer to be a Jedi. I asked him, "Would you like to learn how to be a Jedi?"
"You mean go up there and use a light saver? We could do that!"
"No, buddy, I mean YOU would go up there and do that -- they don't let mommies come to the Jedi Academy."
"No! I couldn't do that if you won't come." He paused, "But I can already use a light saver and the Force."
"Yes, you can. I think you could do a great job if you wanted to be a Jedi!"
"I do want to be a Jedi! I think they should pick me!"
He was coming around to the idea of volunteering. Just then, Scott brought him some lunch and a little sign that said "It's my 4th birthday!" Milo asked what the sign said and why he had it. I told him that it might help him get picked to be a Padawan. He considered it, then propped it in front of him, leaning it against his scuffed green shoe. Scott returned for a third time, this time bearing Milo's clone trooper baseball cap -- or, in Milo-ese, his "clome stooper" hat.
The sound guys made their way back to the booth and the familiar strains of the Star Wars theme pierced through the crowd noise -- the Jedis were arriving! First up were two assistant Jedi instructors that warmed the crowd and offered the advice that if a kid wanted to be picked for the Jedi Academy, he/she needed to show lots of enthusiasm. Suddenly, from the back of the house, the Jedi Master came running! Milo squealed and cheered!
The Jedi Master took the stage and said something that I can't remember -- I think both Milo and I were getting excited about the selection process. He started picking kids from house left to house right and we were sitting just right of center. As his gaze moved towards us, I grabbed Milo's hands and the sign, started cheering loudly, yanking him off his feet with my excitement. The Jedi Master looked our direction and I bellowed, "It's his BIRTHDAY!"
"How old is he?" inquired the Master.
"Four!"
"Yes, we'll take him!"
Milo couldnt' believe it -- he balked for just a moment when the assistant tried to bring him to the group, but I knelt quickly and said, "You can do it! You can be a Jedi!" He nodded and went with the assistant, slipping his hands in his mouth with anxiety.
It is in the best interest of the entertainer to put a cute little kid front and center, so naturally Milo was the Padawan closest to the Master. They had slipped a brown robe over his shoulders as he ascended the stairs to the stage, his white hat was pulled low over his eyes until the Master looked at him, smiled, adjusted the hat so we could all see his face and said, "Let's get started, Milo!"
I think Milo had forgotten that he was wearing a button with his name on it, but he was completely impressed that the Jedi Master knew his name. So impressed, in fact, that he wasn't aware that they were repeating a Jedi oath. He chewed his fingers, peering through the crowd to find first me, then daddy, to whom he gave a thumb's up smile.
The assistants gave each child a light saber, then Milo focused on the task at hand -- learning a light saber combination of attacks. It proved a little funny that he could engage his light saber, but not necessarily disengage it -- he couldn't do that as fast as the other kids, so for a while, he was JUST getting the light saber disengaged when it was time to engage for the next kata. So cute! In fact, that's what I overheard a woman saying about him, the littlest Padawan.
Suddenly, just as the lesson was finishing, the ominous Darth Vader theme boomed through the speakers and the Jedi Master sent all of the kids stage left. Storm troopers marched down the center aisle with Darth Maul. Darth Vader emerged from under a lift in the stage, shrouded in fog. They were under attack!
Thank goodness all of those kids had light sabers and had just learned a choreographed attack! The Jedi Master indicated that the kids on the stage, including Milo, were to take on Darth Vader and the kids on the floor were to battle Darth Maul. Milo was second in line for Vader.
The Jedi Master called him forward by name, he scooted quickly to his side, light saber drawn prematurely. Once again, he had just managed to get it disengaged when the master called for him to engage. Indicating where Milo was to attack, he ran Milo through the set of blows they had practiced, Milo did an especially good "Duck!" maneuver. As he finished his combination, he got a "Good job!" and was escorted to the floor, where he took a seat along with the other finishing Padawan.
He searched for me, beaming with pride, and gave me a thumb's up smile. Then he said, "I want to battle Darth Maul, too!" I laughed. Eventually, battling 25 kids proved to be too much for the baddies and they retreated -- the Jedi had saved the day!! The kids were all marched up onstage where they were presented with a certificate of achievement and disrobed (they were disarmed after the solo fights).
Milo came running back to me, thrilled that on his birthday he had beaten Darth Vader in a light saber battle! Thankfully, I had been snapping pictures like a sports photographer on speed, so I did capture his battle in between the cheering and tearing up.
I can't say how proud of him I was for participating -- both Scott and I thought there was a real chance of him bolting from the stage, paralyzed by anxiety, but Milo did it! He conquered not only Darth Vader, but a tiny bit of that anxiety that has been his dark side for the past year...
And me? Well, I got the exquisite experience of watching my little man taking a big step forward right in front of my eyes -- and the entire crowd.
"Mom! The moon says it loves me!"
The moon was, in fact, smiling down on us brightly, hanging in the sky like a slice of ripe melon. The cosmos was celebrating with us.
My little buddy had a fantastic fourth birthday in California. It was pretty much any kid's dream birthday as we went to Disneyland to take advantage of the "Free admission on your birthday" promotion. Because Violet is not yet two, the four of us got in for the price of two tickets! Not bad!
There were two things which we were interested in doing at the Happiest Place on Earth -- meeting Cinderella and watching and maybe participating in the Jedi Academy show. Well, the line to meet Cinderella was 90 minutes all three times we checked on it, so we decided that since Violet didn't know she was going to miss seeing Cinderella, we would skip it and save the princess meet-and-greet for the next trip. After our first attempt at seeing the royalty, we checked the show schedule and determined that one of the presentations for the Jedi Academy was concluding and that if we bustled over to Tomorrowland, we could score some prime real estate at the front of the crowd for the next presentation.
Milo and I sat down on the terrazzo floor in front of the stage while Scott, Violet and our dear friends Carol, Alex and Hannah grabbed some lunch. While we waited the 45 minutes for the next show, Milo and I talked about what we were going to watch and I told him that they would pick some kids from the audience (aged 4-11) to participate and learn how to be a Jedi.
"You mean like learning how to use a light saver? And the Force?"
Yes, exactly that. Milo's eyes widened.
Now, as I've blogged before, he's been struggling with some social anxiety for the last 15 months or so; I really thought that he would balk if I suggested that he volunteer to be a Jedi. I asked him, "Would you like to learn how to be a Jedi?"
"You mean go up there and use a light saver? We could do that!"
"No, buddy, I mean YOU would go up there and do that -- they don't let mommies come to the Jedi Academy."
"No! I couldn't do that if you won't come." He paused, "But I can already use a light saver and the Force."
"Yes, you can. I think you could do a great job if you wanted to be a Jedi!"
"I do want to be a Jedi! I think they should pick me!"
He was coming around to the idea of volunteering. Just then, Scott brought him some lunch and a little sign that said "It's my 4th birthday!" Milo asked what the sign said and why he had it. I told him that it might help him get picked to be a Padawan. He considered it, then propped it in front of him, leaning it against his scuffed green shoe. Scott returned for a third time, this time bearing Milo's clone trooper baseball cap -- or, in Milo-ese, his "clome stooper" hat.
The sound guys made their way back to the booth and the familiar strains of the Star Wars theme pierced through the crowd noise -- the Jedis were arriving! First up were two assistant Jedi instructors that warmed the crowd and offered the advice that if a kid wanted to be picked for the Jedi Academy, he/she needed to show lots of enthusiasm. Suddenly, from the back of the house, the Jedi Master came running! Milo squealed and cheered!
The Jedi Master took the stage and said something that I can't remember -- I think both Milo and I were getting excited about the selection process. He started picking kids from house left to house right and we were sitting just right of center. As his gaze moved towards us, I grabbed Milo's hands and the sign, started cheering loudly, yanking him off his feet with my excitement. The Jedi Master looked our direction and I bellowed, "It's his BIRTHDAY!"
"How old is he?" inquired the Master.
"Four!"
"Yes, we'll take him!"
Milo couldnt' believe it -- he balked for just a moment when the assistant tried to bring him to the group, but I knelt quickly and said, "You can do it! You can be a Jedi!" He nodded and went with the assistant, slipping his hands in his mouth with anxiety.
It is in the best interest of the entertainer to put a cute little kid front and center, so naturally Milo was the Padawan closest to the Master. They had slipped a brown robe over his shoulders as he ascended the stairs to the stage, his white hat was pulled low over his eyes until the Master looked at him, smiled, adjusted the hat so we could all see his face and said, "Let's get started, Milo!"
I think Milo had forgotten that he was wearing a button with his name on it, but he was completely impressed that the Jedi Master knew his name. So impressed, in fact, that he wasn't aware that they were repeating a Jedi oath. He chewed his fingers, peering through the crowd to find first me, then daddy, to whom he gave a thumb's up smile.
The assistants gave each child a light saber, then Milo focused on the task at hand -- learning a light saber combination of attacks. It proved a little funny that he could engage his light saber, but not necessarily disengage it -- he couldn't do that as fast as the other kids, so for a while, he was JUST getting the light saber disengaged when it was time to engage for the next kata. So cute! In fact, that's what I overheard a woman saying about him, the littlest Padawan.
Suddenly, just as the lesson was finishing, the ominous Darth Vader theme boomed through the speakers and the Jedi Master sent all of the kids stage left. Storm troopers marched down the center aisle with Darth Maul. Darth Vader emerged from under a lift in the stage, shrouded in fog. They were under attack!
Thank goodness all of those kids had light sabers and had just learned a choreographed attack! The Jedi Master indicated that the kids on the stage, including Milo, were to take on Darth Vader and the kids on the floor were to battle Darth Maul. Milo was second in line for Vader.
The Jedi Master called him forward by name, he scooted quickly to his side, light saber drawn prematurely. Once again, he had just managed to get it disengaged when the master called for him to engage. Indicating where Milo was to attack, he ran Milo through the set of blows they had practiced, Milo did an especially good "Duck!" maneuver. As he finished his combination, he got a "Good job!" and was escorted to the floor, where he took a seat along with the other finishing Padawan.
He searched for me, beaming with pride, and gave me a thumb's up smile. Then he said, "I want to battle Darth Maul, too!" I laughed. Eventually, battling 25 kids proved to be too much for the baddies and they retreated -- the Jedi had saved the day!! The kids were all marched up onstage where they were presented with a certificate of achievement and disrobed (they were disarmed after the solo fights).
Milo came running back to me, thrilled that on his birthday he had beaten Darth Vader in a light saber battle! Thankfully, I had been snapping pictures like a sports photographer on speed, so I did capture his battle in between the cheering and tearing up.
I can't say how proud of him I was for participating -- both Scott and I thought there was a real chance of him bolting from the stage, paralyzed by anxiety, but Milo did it! He conquered not only Darth Vader, but a tiny bit of that anxiety that has been his dark side for the past year...
And me? Well, I got the exquisite experience of watching my little man taking a big step forward right in front of my eyes -- and the entire crowd.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Laughter is the Best Medicine
We were out and about over the weekend and ran into several people who were... interesting... to say the least.
While at Menard's, my children were happily entertaining themselves on the demo playground they have set up, when a young fella named Jesse walked up and introduced himself to me. He looked like he was almost three and asked me, "What is your girl's name?"
I smiled and answered patiently, "Violet."
"Chloe? Cool."
Now, as far as I know, I have never in my life called Violet "Chloe", but as I didn't think I was likely to see this charmer with the thick eyelashes, I just smiled and nodded. Besides, my attention was occupied by the ten year old swinging so fast and high that I was afraid that any kid who stumbled into the path of the swing would be launched airborne for fifteen feet and likely knocked nearly unconscious. I actually called out to the little Jesse kid, "Watch out for the swing!!" as he backed up nearly into the path of the bigger child's screaming flight. Although the swinging menace continued to swing for another few minutes, he did jump off the swing eventually, much to my relief.
Up to this point, Milo had been climbing a climbing wall and sliding down the "tornado" slide. Each time, as he ducked inside the slide he called down to me, "Mom! Are there any kids at the bottom of the slide?" He refuses to slide if he thinks he's going to bump into someone. I'm OK with that.
And then Violet decided that she, too wanted to climb up and slide down the twisty slide after her brother. Scott had returned from shopping and monitored her carefully as she climbed a curved climbing wall with a hole large enough for her to drop through, like a coin falling into a piggy bank. She expertly scaled this bridge, reaching the top just as my little friend Jesse approached the platform from the other direction.
Jesse must have seen a movie with a traffic cop in it, because suddenly he was directing the traffic at the top of the slide. Milo went down, carefully stepping around Jesse. Violet approached the slide and he stopped her in her tracks. Confused, Violet looked up at him and said, "My slide down!" He then grabbed her by the waist and tried to help her into the slide's chute, something that she'd done five or six times by this point. Understandably, she was confused and didn't really want him touching her, so she wriggled free from his grasp. I wasn't overly concerned, more annoyed at this child's lack of adult supervision -- he clearly wasn't trying to hurt her, but he was trying to control the situation. She broke free and slid down the slide, shooting out of the bottom with a delighted sqeal.
By now, Milo was climbing back up to the slide's platform, when our favorite Barney Fife appeared at the top of the ladder, blocking Milo's way. That's when a new voice entered the situation -- Jesse's adult companion (mother? aunt? nanny? not sure...). "Jesse! Don't stand at the top of the ladder!"
"I'm just waiting for this chubby kid to climb up!"
Chubby kid? I look around expecting to see an actual chubby kid, but I don't. OH! He must mean my Milo...
I couldn't help it. I started giggling. "Yeah, chubby kid -- climb that ladder!"
Milo glances over my shoulder, not sure how to respond.
I nod at him and urge him, "Yeah! You -- chubby kid! Go down the slide!"
I can barely stifle my laughter. Jesse's adult looks at me like I'm a little touched.
Milo states, indignantly, "I'm not chubby!"
I assure him, "You're not chubby, love." Snort... giggle... giggle...
Milo goes down the slide. I can't stop laughing. Scott sighs and suggests that we get moving when we notice that Violet has gone down the slide again and has paused for just a moment at the bottom -- long enough for Jesse the KidKop to slide into her. To be fair, he couldn't see the bottom of the slide, but he did jump the gun and didn't allow her enough time to pick herself up from the mulch. She's not bothered in the least by this mini-mall cop kid bouncing into her, but HE looks up and shouts, "Chloe scratched me!"
And I'm a goner... Now I'm guffawing and simply can't control myself. Scott senses that I'm not going to behave appropriately and he ushers the kids to the checkout, but not before we notice Jesse, the pint-sized TJ Hooker, approaching the big swing kid. Apparently, they were brothers. D'oh!
I laughed all the way to our next stop, Best Buy. Until we pull into a parking space where I notice a couple taking out an infant travel system. The man is buried to the waist in their SUV. I expected to see him pull out a mewling and adorable baby with thick, black, wavy hair (his parents looked to be Indian). Instead, he huffs, puffs, and lugs out an infant carrier with a kid as big as Violet inside.
If you've ever seen a cartoon character's eyes fall out, that's pretty much what I looked like. Now, I'll admit that there are many people who have questioned why Scott and I are still rear-facing Violet in the car. 1) It's safer 2)She doesn't know any differently. But I will only do that for as long as it is safe to do so in the seat we have. I know of NO infant carrier that is rated to hold a child as big (ha!) as Chloe... uh, Violet. And, on top of that, the straps were so loose that he could have shrugged them off and run free if he'd tried. His poor father looked like he was trying to move a piano as he hoisted the seat onto the stroller. Crazy... I did not laugh about this.
In other news, I'm feeling much better these days -- I even exercised for the first time since the pneumonia last night. And ONE WEEK UNTIL CALIFORNIA!!! Yippee!!!
While at Menard's, my children were happily entertaining themselves on the demo playground they have set up, when a young fella named Jesse walked up and introduced himself to me. He looked like he was almost three and asked me, "What is your girl's name?"
I smiled and answered patiently, "Violet."
"Chloe? Cool."
Now, as far as I know, I have never in my life called Violet "Chloe", but as I didn't think I was likely to see this charmer with the thick eyelashes, I just smiled and nodded. Besides, my attention was occupied by the ten year old swinging so fast and high that I was afraid that any kid who stumbled into the path of the swing would be launched airborne for fifteen feet and likely knocked nearly unconscious. I actually called out to the little Jesse kid, "Watch out for the swing!!" as he backed up nearly into the path of the bigger child's screaming flight. Although the swinging menace continued to swing for another few minutes, he did jump off the swing eventually, much to my relief.
Up to this point, Milo had been climbing a climbing wall and sliding down the "tornado" slide. Each time, as he ducked inside the slide he called down to me, "Mom! Are there any kids at the bottom of the slide?" He refuses to slide if he thinks he's going to bump into someone. I'm OK with that.
And then Violet decided that she, too wanted to climb up and slide down the twisty slide after her brother. Scott had returned from shopping and monitored her carefully as she climbed a curved climbing wall with a hole large enough for her to drop through, like a coin falling into a piggy bank. She expertly scaled this bridge, reaching the top just as my little friend Jesse approached the platform from the other direction.
Jesse must have seen a movie with a traffic cop in it, because suddenly he was directing the traffic at the top of the slide. Milo went down, carefully stepping around Jesse. Violet approached the slide and he stopped her in her tracks. Confused, Violet looked up at him and said, "My slide down!" He then grabbed her by the waist and tried to help her into the slide's chute, something that she'd done five or six times by this point. Understandably, she was confused and didn't really want him touching her, so she wriggled free from his grasp. I wasn't overly concerned, more annoyed at this child's lack of adult supervision -- he clearly wasn't trying to hurt her, but he was trying to control the situation. She broke free and slid down the slide, shooting out of the bottom with a delighted sqeal.
By now, Milo was climbing back up to the slide's platform, when our favorite Barney Fife appeared at the top of the ladder, blocking Milo's way. That's when a new voice entered the situation -- Jesse's adult companion (mother? aunt? nanny? not sure...). "Jesse! Don't stand at the top of the ladder!"
"I'm just waiting for this chubby kid to climb up!"
Chubby kid? I look around expecting to see an actual chubby kid, but I don't. OH! He must mean my Milo...
I couldn't help it. I started giggling. "Yeah, chubby kid -- climb that ladder!"
Milo glances over my shoulder, not sure how to respond.
I nod at him and urge him, "Yeah! You -- chubby kid! Go down the slide!"
I can barely stifle my laughter. Jesse's adult looks at me like I'm a little touched.
Milo states, indignantly, "I'm not chubby!"
I assure him, "You're not chubby, love." Snort... giggle... giggle...
Milo goes down the slide. I can't stop laughing. Scott sighs and suggests that we get moving when we notice that Violet has gone down the slide again and has paused for just a moment at the bottom -- long enough for Jesse the KidKop to slide into her. To be fair, he couldn't see the bottom of the slide, but he did jump the gun and didn't allow her enough time to pick herself up from the mulch. She's not bothered in the least by this mini-mall cop kid bouncing into her, but HE looks up and shouts, "Chloe scratched me!"
And I'm a goner... Now I'm guffawing and simply can't control myself. Scott senses that I'm not going to behave appropriately and he ushers the kids to the checkout, but not before we notice Jesse, the pint-sized TJ Hooker, approaching the big swing kid. Apparently, they were brothers. D'oh!
I laughed all the way to our next stop, Best Buy. Until we pull into a parking space where I notice a couple taking out an infant travel system. The man is buried to the waist in their SUV. I expected to see him pull out a mewling and adorable baby with thick, black, wavy hair (his parents looked to be Indian). Instead, he huffs, puffs, and lugs out an infant carrier with a kid as big as Violet inside.
If you've ever seen a cartoon character's eyes fall out, that's pretty much what I looked like. Now, I'll admit that there are many people who have questioned why Scott and I are still rear-facing Violet in the car. 1) It's safer 2)She doesn't know any differently. But I will only do that for as long as it is safe to do so in the seat we have. I know of NO infant carrier that is rated to hold a child as big (ha!) as Chloe... uh, Violet. And, on top of that, the straps were so loose that he could have shrugged them off and run free if he'd tried. His poor father looked like he was trying to move a piano as he hoisted the seat onto the stroller. Crazy... I did not laugh about this.
In other news, I'm feeling much better these days -- I even exercised for the first time since the pneumonia last night. And ONE WEEK UNTIL CALIFORNIA!!! Yippee!!!
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