Forever Cat

We had to put our almost-fifteen-years-old cat, Nibbles, to sleep recently.  He had been sick for a while so we were all prepared for the inevitable.  The kids asked really good questions about the process of euthanasia, and they said loving goodbyes to Nibbles before school on that last morning.

The preschool pick-up report for Quynh that day was that she had been "emotional."  On the way home that evening, Tai asked how long the "special medicine" would take to stop Nibbies' heart.  He hadn't realized it would work right away and that Nibbles would not be there when we arrived home.   The part Quynh struggled with was the cremation.  She kept telling people Nibbles was going to be burned to death.

A week or so later we got the call to go pick up his ashes.  The kids were prepared for this too, since we already have one dead cat's ashes in our house -- a cat who died long before Tai was even born. They were interested to see the little metal box, but a tad disappointed no to be able to open it and check out the actual ashes.

Then, just this week, some friends sent us a children's book about "forever cats" and how, even after they leave this earth they are forever your cat.  We read the book at bedtime and it was immediately  followed by an interesting discussion.

Quynh opened with, "But sometimes cats die."  So I tried to explain that the book meant they are still your cat even after they die.  Because you still love them. And Minh said something about them living on in your heart, and in your memory. Tai said, "Nibbies is still here.  In a box.  On the mantle."

Eventually, we settled on Nibbles being forever in our memories, in our hearts, and on the mantle.

Today's Problem

I don't have a decent rain jacket.  Minh has an excellent one that I envy every time it rains.

So on each rainy day (like today) I curse myself for not having purchased a rain jacket.  Then I go online and browse women's rain jackets.  Then I think, "Well, actually there is no rush.  It's not like buying a jacket online is going to keep me any drier today.  By the time it arrives it will be sunny out.  I'll do this later."

Then, later, on a nice sunny day I remember that I was going to buy a rain jacket, but that seems completely ridiculous in that moment.  Why would I buy a rain jacket?  It's sunny out.

I have a similar problem with ironing work clothes.  I keep a big pile of wrinkled clothes waiting to be ironed in our bedroom.  I hate ironing, so during the week I walk by that big pile and mentally calculate that we have enough clean, ironed work-appropriate items in the closet to get us through the week.  I promise myself that I'll catch up on the ironing over the weekend so the closets will be all stocked up and ready for next week.

Then the weekend arrives and I think, "Why would I iron dress shirts today?  It's Saturday and we don't  need those until Monday..."

I seem to have a motivation problem.

Big Dreams

I only let my kids watch about 6-10 hours of TV a week.  Basically, they watch TV every day -- sometimes just a 30 minute show before school (so I can get myself showered and dressed for work).  And some days  it's an hour of cartoons in the morning and a 2-hour movie in the afternoon (Saturdays and Sundays can seem so long sometimes and we need to fill the hours).

While I actually feel like this is a lot of TV and I sometimes wonder if it's too much, Tai feels like it is the bare minimum and is constantly asking for more.  The other day he was lamenting the fact that we do not have a TV in the car #kindergartenfirstworldproblems.

He asked me if I wished we had a TV in the car and I said no, I feel like we watch enough TV at home.  Obviously feeling oppressed by my ridiculous notion that you don't need to stare at a screen 24 hours a day, he began fantasizing out loud about his future as a grown-up and it went like this:

Tai: Well, when I grow up and have a car it's going to have a TV.  And I'm always going to be the passenger so I can watch the TV.

Me:  So who will drive the car?

Tai:  My husband.  Wife.  Wait, men can marry men, right?

Me:  Yes.

Tai:  OK, then my husband or wife will drive the car.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Keeping his options open.

We Made it to February...

Tai made it through 100 days of kindergarten before announcing, "I'm ready for first grade."   His self-assessment of his own kindergarten skills went something like this:

• "Math is boring because it's like 2+2=4 and I already know how to add.  We don't even do minus or times yet."

• "Reading is boring because the books she gives me are too babysish."

• "Word study is boring because she is teaching us 2 and 3 letter words.  And sometimes even 1-letter words, like 'I'."

Best of all, he proceeded to tell me that he and three others were the best readers in the class and that his friend (we'll call her Anna) is, "The second smartest kid in the class."

Naturally, I asked who is the smartest kid in the class and that question was met with the unmistakable look of, You have to be kidding me -- did you seriously just ask that?  And then he back peddled just a bit and said, "Well, maybe me and Anna are tied for smartest."

Basic math?  check.

Beginning reading? check.

Humility?  needs work.

Dream Catcher

When Tai was about 3 or 4 years old he started talking about having bad dreams at night and asking us to buy him a dreamcatcher.  Minh and I figured it was a phase that would pass and we did not run out and buy him one right away.

Shortly thereafter we found ourselves on vacation in Maine, in a cute little gift shop with lots of odds and ends for sale.  And there it was, hanging in the front window -- a small, beaded, reasonably-priced dreamcatcher.  Tai spotted it and of course asked us to get it for him.  We did, and it has been hanging over his bed ever since.  It was the very last thing we packed when we moved, and it was hung up over his bed in his new room before he went to sleep the very first night in the new house.

And now Quynh is three-and-a-half and telling us every night at bedtime that she's afraid to go to sleep because she'll have bad dreams.  Some nights she is weepy and scared, other nights she is angry and belligerent.  All because she is certain the Big Bad Wolf is lurking right outside her bedroom door.

Without us even asking, Tai has been trying to help her through this.  Last week he gave her a picture he drew at school to hang up by her bed and look at while she falls asleep.  And then just the other night, as bedtime approached and Quynh became nervous, Tai suddenly announced, "Quynh can have my dreamcatcher."

Minh moved the talisman from above Tai's bed to above Quynh's bed and we all praised Tai for his kindness and generosity.  Tai stated out loud, in front of Quynh, "And I won't even be scared."  Then he whispered in my ear, "I think they just make that up so kids won't be scared."

The dreamcatcher is having the same impact on Quynh as it did on Tai -- she has now gone to bed peacefully two nights in a row.  Made up or not, it works for my kids.  Hopefully in a couple years Quynh will outgrow her need for it and pass it on some other preschooler who needs it.

Rainbow Gun (patent pending)

Sporadically, over the past year or so, Tai has mentioned to me that it would be cool to have a, "gun that shoots rainbows."  I think this is just his way of being able to talk to his hippy-dippy peace loving mom about how totally cool he thinks guns are.  Generally I just say, "Yeah that would be the best gun ever," and we move on.  But this evening we had a more in-depth conversation about his future invention.

*******************************

Tai: Mama, when I grow up I'm going to study, study, study and go to school and work hard and I  really am going to make a gun that shoots rainbows.

Me: You know, I bet you really could.  Tell me how you're going to do it. 

Tai: It's going to have a black thing and when you pull the trigger the black thing lifts up.  And gears!  It will have gears so the rainbows spin and the gears will start to turn when you pull the trigger, and the black thing lifts up.

Me: And then the rainbows shoot out?

Tai:  Yeah, but you can only use it when it's sunny out.

Me:  Of course!  What does our rainbow-catcher on our dining room window have?

Tai:  Yeah, I need one of those crystal things.  It will have one of those.  And solar panels.

Me:  A prism, yup.  So how will you start?

Tai: Well first I need to read, read, read and learn how the first REAL gun was made. 

Me:  Yes, you'll need to learn history.  And science and math.

Tai: I'll need to learn about gears, and crystals. 

Me: It sounds like you might really do this when you grow up. 

Tai:  Yeah, cuz I have a smart brain.

Me: And you work really hard.  You never give up even if you do something wrong the first time.  I like that about you.  And I love that you always ask questions so you can learn new things.

Tai: Yeah, and when I do this I'll be in a lab and there will be other scientists there so I'll just ask them if I have questions.

Me: Of course.

Tai:  But it will be my own lab.  But I'll probably have an assistant.  There will probably be like 20 scientists there.

***************************************

I just had to write this all down because it was too amazing/impressive/adorable to ever be forgotten.  My only hesitation in blogging it was giving away all his big plans because I'm staring to think he's really going to invent this thing one day.
 

How I Know I am Getting Old

Late one night last week I walked into a 99 Restaurant (on purpose) and asked if they were, "still open for dinner."

It was 7:15pm.

Goodbye, Old Friend

Dear 2001 Subaru Forester,

It's time to say goodbye. When we bought you we justified the cost of a Shiny New Car by vowing to drive you until your wheels fell off -- at least 15 years.  Well, your wheels are still in place and we only made it to 12 years and 4 months.  Still, you've had a good long run.  During your time with our family you've witnessed:

Graduate school
First jobs
Marriage
New jobs
Two home purchases
Two babies
Car seats
Diaper changes
The adoption and death of various pets
Countless camping trips

Gone are the days when we actually used your fancy bike rack, because we no longer ride our bikes.  And gone are the days when we used your trailer hitch to tow heavy-duty equipment to tackle big yard projects--because now we barely have time to mow the lawn.  We may not always have been 100% thrilled with you, and we may have even cursed your name on a few occasions   But you've been an excellent car and you deserve to retire.

My Twenty Minute Run

The other day, the lady who lives inside my phone told me to run for twenty solid minutes. I am not sure whether she and I are still friends.  The longest I had done before that was a nine minute run. Nine to twenty is a big jump.

This is how it is supposed to go:  She says, "warm up" and I walk for 5 minutes. Then she says "run" and I obey. Twenty minutes later she says, "cool down" and I walk for five more minutes.

After a nice "warm up" walk from my office to the track, this is how it went:

Minutes 1 - 8:  I can totally do this!  If I can do 9 minutes I can do 20!

Minutes 8 - 10:  What the f$&k am I doing?  Is it over yet?

Minutes 11-12:  I simply cannot do this.  Maybe I should walk a few minutes and then start back up.

Minutes 13-15: Second Wind!  I can do this! I am a running Machine!

Minutes 16-17: Nope. I am dying.  Will I get in trouble if I vomit on the track?

Minute 18: Mentally compose this blog entry.

Minutes 19-20: Third Wind! Big push!  Go faster!  (You know, so this blog entry will have an inspirational ending.)

So yeah, I did it.  Actually, I unknowingly ran 25 minutes by mistake because I didn't hear the lady say "cool down" and I just kept running like an idiot and then when I realized what I had done I had to run back to my office because we were going to be late for daycare pickup.  I am both proud of and embarrassed by this.

Election Day Quotes

Tai and Quynh were both very interested in Election Day and were excited to come to the polls with us, even though they themselves could not vote.  Their questions gave me insight into how little background information they have on the topic, and how their minds work.  Some examples:

"But HOW do you vote -- do you just raise your hand?" -- Tai

On our way out the door to go vote:
"Will Obama and Romney be there?" -- Tai

Upon our arrival at the polls (a fire station):
"Are you a firefighter?"  -- Quynh, to the first adult male she spotted.

"Is Elizabeth Warren my P.E. teacher?" -- Tai
(Followed by a brief discussion of how there are lots of Elizabeths in the world.)

Later that day, after hearing something on NPR about Romney casting his vote:
"Wait, do Obama and Romney get to vote too?"

The next morning, I delivered the news.
Me: (smiling) "Tai, Obama won."
Tai: (yawning) "oh. hooray."
(It's hard to be enthusiastic at 7am.)

Tai is Hermione

We had our first kindergarten parent-teacher conference the other day and, not surprisingly, heard lots of good things about Tai.

Apparently, public school teachers do not spend 30 minutes gushing over how exceptional your child is and then show you a slide show of 75 photos.  (Damn, that private preschool spoiled us!)  But, we did hear that Tai is smart and has lots of friends and is doing very well.  No surprises there.

My favorite comment from the teacher was that Tai is always the first one to raise his hand when she asks a question and she feels bad that she can't call on him every time.  She has to give the other kids a chance.

Tai is Hermione Granger and I couldn't be more proud.

Singing Baked Goods

Tai and Quynh has never seen The Wizard of Oz, but we have listened to the soundtrack a few times.  This results in lots of questions from both kids:

"Who's singing now?"
"What's happening at this part?"
"Is that the witch?"
"Is she a good witch or a bad witch?"

We answer the questions as best we can remember, but the children still have nothing visual to associate with our answers.  They have no idea what any of the characters look like.

The other day I was driving somewhere with Quynh and we were listening to that.  When we got to the part where Dorothy emerges from her house in The Land of Oz and the munchkins come out to welcome her, Quynh heard those unmistakable high-pitched voices and asked, "Are those the donuts singing?"

Apparently I Run Now

Minh and I are following one of those "Get Your Ass off the Couch, Anyone Can Run a 5k" programs.

How it all started is a long and not-that-interesting story.  But here I am.  Even though mere weeks ago I said, "I don't run unless something is chasing me," I now run.  Voluntarily.  Nothing nipping at my heels.  No zombies in sight.

I am not "training for a race," nor do I have aspirations of running in actual, organized, 5k events.  That may happen someday but it's not really the primary goal.  Instead, I am "training" to not die of heart disease.  Oh, and to be able to zip myself into my Skinny Pants.  Lofty goals, I know.

The other day I had a particularly interesting run for the following reasons:

• I had to gracefully leap over some bales of straw.  Actually, I awkwardly stepped over them.  And almost fell in a mud puddle as a result.  The straw bales were intended to keep Hurricane Sandy off the athletic fields where I run, but they didn't hold me back.  More forceful than a Hurricane!  Not really.

• Half-way through the run I had to get off the track I was using because it was taken over by freakishly fast members of a high school track team.  I wasn't embarrassed to be seen by them, lumbering along at my old lady pace.  I was scared the taller ones might start using me as a hurdle.

• Two-thirds of the way through the run, a dryer sheet worked its way down and out of my shirt.

• Three-quarters of the way though I accidentally hit something on my phone that changed the music to School House Rock.  My phone music is about 80% kids stuff and this was one of those rare times I get to listen to grown-up music.  With swears in it and everything.  I don't know what button I hit and I was afraid to leave the "running program" app to go change the music back because one time I left the app and when I came back it started my run all over again.  Grrrr.  So I finished my run listening to "My hero, Zero."   

Maybe I Should Just Recycle Those Cardboard Tubes

As a follow-up to that last post....

The next day, while I was rushing around getting ready for work, Quynh took it upon herself to keep busy making some more art, like she does nearly every day. We pretty much always have tape, glue, kid scissors, construction paper, and markers strewn all over the "art table" in the playroom because they are in constant use.

I ran out to the garage to throw purse, lunch bag, and coffee mug into the car and, when I returned to the house to start yelling at  suggesting to the kids that they put their shoes and jackets on, Quynh was wailing and bleeding.

She had apparently decided to use her kid scissors to poke holes in cardboard tubes the way her excellent role model of a mother had done with adult scissors the day before.  And it didn't go well.

She's fine, of course, and it only took 15 minutes of me:
begging
pleading
cajoling
(pausing to tell Tai to get ready or he'd miss the bus)
empathizing
arguing
(pausing again to send Tai running down the street alongside the moving school bus)
bargaining
reassuring
and finally bribing  (remember this for next time -- skip all that other stuff and start promising candy right away)
for her to let me put a band-aid on it.

The worst part is I can't find a way to blame this on Minh or anyone else.  I set the bad example and then left the scissors and cardboard tubes within reach.  I practically dared her to try it.

 

 

Fun with TP tubes

For the past several weeks we have been saving every empty toilet paper tube for some unspecified future art project. So this weekend I used one to make this:

Of course I did it under the guise of "doing and art project with Quynh," but she and I were not exactly working together. It was more like she was asking me to draw with her and I was way too focused on my mobile to be bothered. Sometimes I get carried away.

Then Tai joined us, saw what I was working on, and started scolding me, "MAMA!!!  Those tubes are for KID art projects!!!"

Whoops.

Luckily we had seven of them. Three for each kid and one for me.  I don't think it's too much to ask that I get ONE, is it? 

Even though the tubes had been piling up for weeks and no one was using them for anything, seeing me make use of one suddenly inspired both Tai and Quynh to create something with the others. (Or maybe they just figured they had better use them before I took them all). 

Quynh's Mobiles:

Tai's sculpture:

 

Another Genius Moment in Parenting

I am patting myself on the back here for my cunning use of psychology / child development / sheer awesomeness.

Let me back up.  We have a "breakfast bar" with two stools.  Identical stools.  Side by side.  The kids eat breakfast there every day and for some reason when we moved into this house it did not occur to us to assign seats at the bar (the way we did at the dining room table).

So every now and then they'd switch seats.  No big deal.  No one seemed to care.  For a while.

Then one day one of them declared the seat on the right their "favorite seat" and requested to sit in it from that day forward until the end of time.  I'm sure (if you have been paying attention to past events) I don't need to explain that this only caused the other child to also decide the stool on the right was the favorite.

What to do?  I couldn't just give it to the first kid who asked for it.  And I couldn't give it to the other.  We had clearly missed the window of opportunity for parents to assign breakfast seats--there was no way to assign them now without favoring one child and angering the other.  I tried to start a system of alternating who sat in Favorite Seat, but it was hard to remember whose turn it was.

So, in my infinite wisdom, I decide to capitalize on their other regular morning argument -- who gets to select the music we listen to at breakfast.  While trying to hide my own pride in my Genius Plan, I declared to my children that each day one child could sit in Favorite Seat and the other child could choose the morning music.  They immediately agreed.  And it worked!

For about a week.

Yes, for one glorious week there was no arguing over the chair or the music.  They decided for themselves who would sit where each day.  Some days Tai would happily sit in Favorite Chair and put up with the Tangled Soundtrack, while other days Quynh would enjoy her perch in the Best Seat while begrudgingly listening to the Star Wars Pandora Station.
 
Until they decided that choosing the music was way more important than where they sat.  So now they argue over the Other Chair.  FML.

Declarative Statements

In addition to the seemingly endless questions she asks, Quynh also tends to make sweeping declarative statements that err on the side of hyperbole. Some recent examples that amused me:

After walking about 20 yards......
"I can't walk any MORE!  My legs are out of batteries."


When fighting with her brother over music selections in the car.....
"I ONLY listen to soundtracks!"


After tasting salsa for the first time, and loving it.....
"I am eating All The Salsa in your house!"

My Little Pacifist

This morning I told the kids to put on their shoes while I ran a few things out to the car.  I returned about 90 seconds later to a high-pitched commotion around the shoe shelf.  They were both pointing at a pair of my shoes and Quynh yelled, "Mama there is a tarantula climbing on your shoe!"

Actually, it was a tiny spider.  Well, tiny compared to a tarantula.  But big for a House Spider, I guess. It was probably the size of a dime.  Anyway, I know how to handle this type of situation.  I very calmly grabbed about 8 tissues (you know, because you need a very thick barrier of tissues between your hand the and spider) and I reached out to grab him (and then flush him, of course).

But Tai stopped me.  "Mama, no." he said softly, with his hand firmly on my wrist.

"Oh great, he doesn't want me to kill it." I thought.  Now what?  I briefly considered attempting to capture him and release him outside, but that seemed unlikely to work.  And I really didn't like the thought of me walking to the door with a live spider that might run right up my arm and down my shirt.

"So, what should I do with it?" I asked.  "Just leave it," he instructed me.

And it was indeed time for me to get Quynh into the car and off to school.  So I left it.  I simply left a spider crawling around on the shelf where we keep all our shoes.  Now it might be in my shoes -- making a nest!  laying eggs!

I may have to throw out all my shoes.

Who? What? Where? When? ... WHY?

Quynh has entered the phase of needing to know EVERYTHING.  Right now.  And, adorably, she still thinks I have all the answers.

Who is that? What is their name?

What are they doing? WHY?

Why is it dark?

Why is it night?

Is it dark at Target?

Is that a house? Who lives there?

Why does Santa only come at Christmas?

When is Christmas?

Why are there so many Decembers?

How do cats and dogs fall asleep?

Are shadows monsters?

Why do you throw up when you are sick?

Where is my blood moving in my body?

Tai, on the other hand, has figured out that I am not a bottomless pit of scientific knowledge.  He still asks tons of questions, but he usually prefaces them with, "You probably don't know this, but...."

Miss Independent

This morning in the car on the way to preschool Quynh announced (apropos of nothing), "Some day I want to live not with you.  And get a different car.  A blue one."

At age 3, she is already planning her eventual flight from The Nest.

This is in stark contrast to her brother who practically tears up at any vague mention that he might, someday in the very distant future, perhaps want to live on his own.