Image: Your skin is something that I stir into my tea

Misbehaving

Yesterday I made Harrison cry.

Mind you, I make him cry several times a day when I take away something that we wants (e.g., markers), make him do something that he doesn't want to do (e.g., go inside), or ignore my ESP powers and unknowingly make a wrong choice (e.g., juice instead of milk).

This type of crying doesn't faze me.

But yesterday I made him cry because he I yelled at him, and I feel awful about it.

We had been playing cars in the living room for about 10 minutes when all of a sudden Harrison decided to bash his racecar into the back of my head. It hurt, so I said "Ow!" and then he did it again. I was angry. I briskly grabbed him up and yelled, "Do not hit people. That hurts!" and put him in one of the dining room chairs in the middle of the room for a time out. I kneeled down, took away his weapon/car, and said sternly (not yelling this time) "You cannot hit people. It is not nice. Now say that you're sorry."

Now, Harrison doesn't misbehave like this often. He's been in time-out maybe four times in his entire life, and usually he looks a little guilty, apologizes, and just sits quietly for the minute or two of his sentence.

But yesterday he looked terrified as I was chastising him, then his bottom lip started quivering, and he burst out in tears just as he was saying in his little Scooby Doo voice, "Raw-ry!" [Sorry!]

And oh, did my heart break. And oh, did I feel guilty. And I gave him the biggest hug and kissed his tears and calmed him down, and then two minutes later he was playing happily with a different toy and in his mind all was well.

I don't know whether he cried because he was scared by the yelling, because he felt bad for hurting me, or if it was a combination of the two.

And yes, logically I do realize that he did misbehave and that his time-out punishment was appropriate, and that him feeling bad for hurting me would be the correct response.

But next time I'm going try and count to ten before reacting with such anger.

I didn't like that this incident hurt my heart more than Harrison hurt my head.

Image: Handlebar

Kids are Weird

Exhibit A:

Harrison had a five-minute conversation with himself at lunch yesterday about strawberries. It went like this:

Yeah...mmm rawbrys...mm. yum yum. yep. rawbrys. mmm. rawbrys. yum yum yum rawbrys rawbrys rawbrys. yepf. yah. mm. yum. rawbrys rawbrys. yah...

Ashley said he sounds like Billy Bob in Slingblade. Doug and I think he sounds like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Main. Neither comparison is particularly complimentary.

Exhibit B:

He has become an OCD food sorter. No one food can touch any other food on his plate. He will also not eat any food that consists of mixed foods (e..g, fried rice, stew, chili). All mixed foods must be unmixed into their basic components before serving. Yesterday he found a piece of ground beef in his rice. Not even a piece. A spec, really. And he picked up the grain of rice and attempted to remove the spec of meat. After about two minutes of this he gave up and wiped the be-meated rice on the table instead.

I'm not sure what to do about this last thing. Do I keep sorting everything out so that he eats and wait for the day when he outgrows this? Or do I just give him the food as is and hope that he'll start eating it when he realizes it's that or nothing?

Ai-yah!

Babel fish

Yepf!
=
Yep!

Image: Harrison's Second Birthday Party

What a lovely day! More pictures here (all taken by Auntie Val or Tara).

Two Years Old

Happy Second Birthday, my beautiful little Boo!

I can't believe that at 10:34 tonight it will have been two whole years since you were born. I've spent a lot of time this week looking through all the pictures your daddy and I have taken of you since then, and it's amazing to see how much you are transformed.

Still, some days it's hard to see how much you've changed in the last year. Physically, there's such a difference between the ages of zero and one, that comparatively it seems that you haven't grown much between 1 and 2. Then last week at your "cousin" Kaiva's first birthday party, Daddy and I both said, "She's so little! Harrison was much bigger than that on his first birthday, wasn't he?" But then we looked at the pictures from your first birthday party, and guess what? You were a little shrimp! You still have chubby thighs that I want to douse with Dinosaur BBQ Sauce and eat for lunch, but your face has changed. There is less baby and more little boy in you every day.

Monday I took you to the neighborhood playground, which is your favorite place in the whole world. (You call it the "Wee!" because that is what slides are called, of course. AND THEY HAVE SEVEN SLIDES!) You are very independent when we go there these days. You like to ride down all but the very tallest slide by yourself. You've memorized how to weave your way through the maze of stairs and ladders and climbers to get to the tops of all the slides. Monday you commandeered a six year old's bottle of bubbles and a second grader's basketball. (I hope this doesn't mean that you're going to be turn into a playground bully.) You also befriended a little boy who looked to be about Quinn's age: 6 or 7. Once you found him, you wanted to follow him everywhere and didn't want Mama to hold your hand when we ran across the bouncy bridge or ride next to you on the double slide. I gave you as much space as I safely could and watched you run and chase and laugh with this little boy and tell him to "Go!" when you were both sitting at the top of the slide.

Watching, I felt so proud of you, but also a little sad. I thought about how two years ago at that moment, you were still a part of my body, but that with every passing moment since you had been moving in a path away from me.

That is both wonderful and terrifying.

Sometimes I want to tell you and the universe "Slow down!" but then I see you becoming ever more intelligent and sensitive and perceptive and independent and adventurous. And I imagine all the things that you will be and become, and I almost can't wait to find out what will come next.

I love you, Harrison. Happy Birthday!

Mama

[Click here for Aunt Val's sweet birthday blog.]

Image: Three Day Old Caterpillar

Read

The Motherhood Manifesto, from The Nation.

Contains an interesting discussion of how the US stacks up against other industrialized countries in providing families with health care, flex work options, and paid leave.

Guess what?

The answer is: not good.

Peed

Rejoice! Rejoice! Harrison peed on the potty!

And because we are the laziest parents ever, we didn't have to do anything!

I was peeing, and he was in the bathroom with me, and he said "Peeee???" and grabbed his diaper and pointed at his potty. So I de-diapered him and plopped him down. I've done this dozens of times before and didn't pay any attention to him, but then he got up and there was PEE IN THE BOWL!

And I think I freaked him out a bit with all my hooting and hollering and kisses and rejoicing that maybe the end of diapers is in sight now, praise bejesus!

Then I calmed down and rewarded him with a marshmallow easter peep.

Now I've got to do some research on how you are actually supposed to potty train toddlers. I already fear it's not going to be as easy as litter training cats.

Image: The Wicked Witch of the East

Image: Wax Beans

'side!

Florida and the beautiful spring weather seem to have broken Harrison of his TV addiction. Now instead of whimpering "Ernie....", hurling himself at the television, and blindly pushing every button on the DVD player, he gets out his shoes, plasters himself to the screen door glass like a pup, and demands, "Side!" [outside]. And regardless of the state of dinner preparation, I am usually more than happy to oblige because the alternative is boredom, and you should know that boredom transforms Harrison from a darling into a tantrum-ridden monster with fangs and stompy feet, and results in me wanting to check myself into a mental institution.

His usual outdoor itinerary:

• roll trike and wagon to top of porch stairs
• say "Mama! Bike!" to demand that Mama set them on pavement
• put sidewalk chalk container in wagon
• push wagon to end of driveway
• kick wagon down incline at end of driveway
• giggle
• point at wagon and yell "Mama!" to demand that Mama bring wagon back up incline
• repeat
• retrieve trike from backyard
• wheel trike to end of driveway
• kick trike down incline at end of driveway
• giggle
• point at trike and yell "Mama!" to demand that Mama bring wagon back up incline
• repeat
• sit on walk
• pat walk and yell "Mama sit!"
• scribble with sidewalk chalk
• hand Mama chalk, point at ground, and yell "Mama!" to demand that Mama draw for amusement
• scour sky for "erbines" [airplanes] and cry "erbine! erbine!" if successful
• scour sky for moon and shout "moon! moon!" if successful
• stomp around front porch, terrorizing resident brooding morning dove
• make move to pick Mama's flowers
• say to self under breath "No. Flow-woos. No!"
• back away
• succumb to Dark Side
• pick flowers
• get threatened with time out if more flowers are picked

There are also many, many trips to the neighborhood playground, much playing with the next-door neighbor kids, and much running away from another neighbor's two-year old girl, who always seems to be either trying to kiss him, steal his milk, or eat his chalk.

Hooray for spring!

One year and three hundred sixty one

Harrison turns one year and three hundred sixty one days old today. I will save you from all the trite and cliqued nostaligic musings and leave it at this:

I can't believe that he will be two on Friday.

I can't believe that I am the mother of a two year old.

Holy fucking shit.

CHS Shout Out!

My beloved alma mater, City Honors School, was just named the fourth best public high school in the country. In the country! I am beyond impressed, not suprised, and forever grateful.

I have written about CHS before, while ranting about the sad state of public education in Rochester and dreaming about the perfect public school for my boy.

The latest school that we fantasize about (yes, this is what we fantasize about these days. this and $1600 swingsets. pathetic.) is the Genesee Community Charter School at the Rochester Science Museum.

How amazing does it sound? "As an Expeditionary Learning school, our students spend most of each day embarking on purposeful, rigorous learning expeditions that involve intellectual, service, and kinesthetic dimensions."

Hell, I want to go there, and I don't even know what "kinesthetic dimensions" means.