Squidbits
July was a heck of a month. I wasn't home for a single weekend, though I spend two of those Squidless (*sniffle*) while visiting friends and family, and I had to travel for work. But in the middle of the month we had vacation - a whole week in sunny, delightful Portland, Oregon. If I hadn't gotten sick halfway through it would have been a perfect vacation - we went to a park almost every morning, and almost every afternoon, and saw friends when I was not dying of plague. All photos in this post are my snaps of him from that week.
It was wonderful to be in Portland, which I love dearly and which is like Heaven on Earth in the summertime, and it was wonderful to move at the Squid's pace, doing what he wanted to do and not multitasking him with household chores or my own projects or errands or anything else that I haul him along for at home. I have realized recently how often I multitask people - personally, professionally, and parentally - and I'm trying to be better about it. Failing, for the most part, but at least the light bulb is on, now, so the long slow painful process of incremental change can begin.
In Portland, all those litigation-inspiring toys that have been taken out of California parks still abide. Teeter-totter! Merry-go-round! The Squid was thrilled.
And seriously, why would I want to multitask him? I am enjoying him so much right now. I never thought I would love having a toddler this much, but I really do. He's not too big to cuddle or want to sit on my lap (though that is a mixed blessing, as I discussed last month) and he's still young enough that he lets me kiss him and hug him all I want. He loves to share his world with me, and he's getting remarkably articulate and emotionally savvy. When he cries out of frustration or disappointment, I can ask if he wants a hug, and he'll say yes. He asks to snuggle ("Snug-gle?") and to read books, and he can express enthusiasm for the foods, clothes, or outings he wants.
He's not just in tune with his own emotions, either - we have the beginnings of empathy. He crashed his stroller the other day - toppled it over deliberately with his stuffed moose strapped in. We made him pick up the moose and apologize. He clutched it to his shoulder and petted it. "Awwww," he said. "Sowwy. You okay." When we read The Lorax and the Swommee Swans have to leave the polluted skies of the Truffula forest, he says, "Oh, no! Poor birds." And last night he looked at me, slumped back in my chair with a heating pad over my stomach, and petted my hair. "Mommy tired?" He's such a sweet kid. When we went to the park this Saturday, he played with another little kid and I pushed them on the swing. When a third kid joined them, the Squid was ecstatic. "Two fwiends!" he chirped happily.
Playing at the park that had the chlorinated fountain for all the kids to splash in - we went almost every day
Seriously, he's like the Student Body President of toddlerdom. Sweet, friendly, good-natured, outgoing. I'm not sure how he got this from me and Himself - maybe he's a throwback to a sunnier, cheerier ancestor - but it's a delight to be around. His longest tantrum to date has been about two minutes long, and though he does shout, wail, and whine when he doesn't get what he wants - he's two - he regains equilibrium quickly. He makes friends with strangers everywhere we go, and I'm really looking forward to having him meet the people at his new pre-school. I know they're going to love him. Everyone does.
Of course, today is maybe not the best day for first impressions - he woke up screaming at 1:30 or so this morning, with damp pyjamas, and after a change we put him down in our bed for the night. And he poked and pinched and tickled and kicked and hit me for the next two hours, playing restlessly instead of crashing out. Finally I put him back in his crib - more screaming. His Daddy got up with him for the second round, and they fell asleep on the inflatable bed in the living room around five-thirty, only to wake up again an hour later. By the time I dropped the Squid off at daycare, he was a sobbing mess of tired kidlet. Poor bug. He's just started having the occasional nightmare, and it's so hard on him. And on us. I think tonight might be a good night for watching a movie, maybe our favorite, Microcosmos. ("Watch bugs?")
A snack of raisins underneath a mossy conifer tree at the park
I'm coming to terms with the way we're using visual media with him, though it's more than I ever imagined I would. We use it mostly when (a) one of us is sick, (b) all of us are exhausted, (c) we are traveling on a long trip, or (d) when solo parenting - mostly in short YouTube doses, in the latter case, to allow for showers or dinner prep. His YouTube playlists are broken out by how long each of them is, to allow for various tasks. I still try to do active reading with him of what is happening on the screen, and I don't think he gets more than an hour a day even when his daycare provider lets him watch Dora. And at the new daycare, he won't even have that. I'm sad he's leaving his current setup - they've really been like a third set of grandparents in a way - but he will love having the new pack of kids his age to run with. He needs more stimulation.
Although he's doing fine on the educational front, zooming ahead with language and numbers. We have the whole alphabet, both letter recognition and the sequential song. Also, Squid can recite portions of Green Eggs and Ham ("Coodjoo, coodjoo, inna car? Eeet dem, eeet dem, here dey are!") and sing portions of "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," "You Are My Sunshine," and other favorite songs. I took a lot of the board books we had out and put them away, and I stacked the shelf under the coffee table with Seuss and other "big kid" books. He is enjoying classics like Caps For Sale and The Lorax along with books on insects and the building of skyscrapers. The specialized vocabulary he's developing is both awesome and hilarious. "Combine!" "Mantis!" "Frontloader!" "Hawkmoth!" "Chrysalis!" "Piledriver!" I try to explain everything to him at a level that I know is above his head, as well as doing it at what I perceive as his comprehension level, because I never know what he's going to pick up on.
Our friend who is a union organizer plays letter-recognition games with the Squid using an "ILWU supports Obama" sign
He also mimics my speech patterns. "Excellent!" he proclaims. "Indeed!" "My goodness!" Hee. Mimicry is hilarious. If instructed to "Say 'bye bye,' [Squid]!" he says, "Bye-bye [Squid]!" We are not above taking advantage of the humor potential of this upon occasion, though we'll have to stop as comprehension catches up to repetition. Himself got the Squid to say, "Play with the vaccuum, Mommy!" last night, and went on to encourage him to tell me to fix the baseboards in the kitchen. Sigh.
It's unfortunate that I try to write these posts up at the beginning of the month, as my current cycle ensures that this is the most tired, inarticulate, and generally unhappy time of the month for me, but despite my own state of general uselessness and bleh, I have nothing but good news to report on the Squidfront. He's energetic, healthy, enthusiastic, cheerful, and generally all-around wonderful. I am so very, very lucky to be his mother.
It was wonderful to be in Portland, which I love dearly and which is like Heaven on Earth in the summertime, and it was wonderful to move at the Squid's pace, doing what he wanted to do and not multitasking him with household chores or my own projects or errands or anything else that I haul him along for at home. I have realized recently how often I multitask people - personally, professionally, and parentally - and I'm trying to be better about it. Failing, for the most part, but at least the light bulb is on, now, so the long slow painful process of incremental change can begin.
In Portland, all those litigation-inspiring toys that have been taken out of California parks still abide. Teeter-totter! Merry-go-round! The Squid was thrilled.
And seriously, why would I want to multitask him? I am enjoying him so much right now. I never thought I would love having a toddler this much, but I really do. He's not too big to cuddle or want to sit on my lap (though that is a mixed blessing, as I discussed last month) and he's still young enough that he lets me kiss him and hug him all I want. He loves to share his world with me, and he's getting remarkably articulate and emotionally savvy. When he cries out of frustration or disappointment, I can ask if he wants a hug, and he'll say yes. He asks to snuggle ("Snug-gle?") and to read books, and he can express enthusiasm for the foods, clothes, or outings he wants.
He's not just in tune with his own emotions, either - we have the beginnings of empathy. He crashed his stroller the other day - toppled it over deliberately with his stuffed moose strapped in. We made him pick up the moose and apologize. He clutched it to his shoulder and petted it. "Awwww," he said. "Sowwy. You okay." When we read The Lorax and the Swommee Swans have to leave the polluted skies of the Truffula forest, he says, "Oh, no! Poor birds." And last night he looked at me, slumped back in my chair with a heating pad over my stomach, and petted my hair. "Mommy tired?" He's such a sweet kid. When we went to the park this Saturday, he played with another little kid and I pushed them on the swing. When a third kid joined them, the Squid was ecstatic. "Two fwiends!" he chirped happily.
Playing at the park that had the chlorinated fountain for all the kids to splash in - we went almost every day
Seriously, he's like the Student Body President of toddlerdom. Sweet, friendly, good-natured, outgoing. I'm not sure how he got this from me and Himself - maybe he's a throwback to a sunnier, cheerier ancestor - but it's a delight to be around. His longest tantrum to date has been about two minutes long, and though he does shout, wail, and whine when he doesn't get what he wants - he's two - he regains equilibrium quickly. He makes friends with strangers everywhere we go, and I'm really looking forward to having him meet the people at his new pre-school. I know they're going to love him. Everyone does.
Of course, today is maybe not the best day for first impressions - he woke up screaming at 1:30 or so this morning, with damp pyjamas, and after a change we put him down in our bed for the night. And he poked and pinched and tickled and kicked and hit me for the next two hours, playing restlessly instead of crashing out. Finally I put him back in his crib - more screaming. His Daddy got up with him for the second round, and they fell asleep on the inflatable bed in the living room around five-thirty, only to wake up again an hour later. By the time I dropped the Squid off at daycare, he was a sobbing mess of tired kidlet. Poor bug. He's just started having the occasional nightmare, and it's so hard on him. And on us. I think tonight might be a good night for watching a movie, maybe our favorite, Microcosmos. ("Watch bugs?")
A snack of raisins underneath a mossy conifer tree at the park
I'm coming to terms with the way we're using visual media with him, though it's more than I ever imagined I would. We use it mostly when (a) one of us is sick, (b) all of us are exhausted, (c) we are traveling on a long trip, or (d) when solo parenting - mostly in short YouTube doses, in the latter case, to allow for showers or dinner prep. His YouTube playlists are broken out by how long each of them is, to allow for various tasks. I still try to do active reading with him of what is happening on the screen, and I don't think he gets more than an hour a day even when his daycare provider lets him watch Dora. And at the new daycare, he won't even have that. I'm sad he's leaving his current setup - they've really been like a third set of grandparents in a way - but he will love having the new pack of kids his age to run with. He needs more stimulation.
Although he's doing fine on the educational front, zooming ahead with language and numbers. We have the whole alphabet, both letter recognition and the sequential song. Also, Squid can recite portions of Green Eggs and Ham ("Coodjoo, coodjoo, inna car? Eeet dem, eeet dem, here dey are!") and sing portions of "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," "You Are My Sunshine," and other favorite songs. I took a lot of the board books we had out and put them away, and I stacked the shelf under the coffee table with Seuss and other "big kid" books. He is enjoying classics like Caps For Sale and The Lorax along with books on insects and the building of skyscrapers. The specialized vocabulary he's developing is both awesome and hilarious. "Combine!" "Mantis!" "Frontloader!" "Hawkmoth!" "Chrysalis!" "Piledriver!" I try to explain everything to him at a level that I know is above his head, as well as doing it at what I perceive as his comprehension level, because I never know what he's going to pick up on.
Our friend who is a union organizer plays letter-recognition games with the Squid using an "ILWU supports Obama" sign
He also mimics my speech patterns. "Excellent!" he proclaims. "Indeed!" "My goodness!" Hee. Mimicry is hilarious. If instructed to "Say 'bye bye,' [Squid]!" he says, "Bye-bye [Squid]!" We are not above taking advantage of the humor potential of this upon occasion, though we'll have to stop as comprehension catches up to repetition. Himself got the Squid to say, "Play with the vaccuum, Mommy!" last night, and went on to encourage him to tell me to fix the baseboards in the kitchen. Sigh.
It's unfortunate that I try to write these posts up at the beginning of the month, as my current cycle ensures that this is the most tired, inarticulate, and generally unhappy time of the month for me, but despite my own state of general uselessness and bleh, I have nothing but good news to report on the Squidfront. He's energetic, healthy, enthusiastic, cheerful, and generally all-around wonderful. I am so very, very lucky to be his mother.