Play doh Puff

P and I made a new batch of peppermint play-doh this week and it is Divine. Its a recipe from a friend and it is Amazing, really. (Just in case you are in the market for some new squishy, here's the link:http://www.montgomeryschoolsmd.org/curriculum/PEP/playdo.htm

It was like butter (but in a good way:) and P was jazzed to realize his specific goals: a snowman and a santa. But he soon decided the green doh really should be a Puff, and thus it became. Then, of course, little BB had to have a ride. Then a party with Puff, the iron fairy, the snowman and some creepy worms.

This was days ago and he has since played with it a number of times. Making pies, cakes and most of all cutting it with every possibility our leatherman has to offer :) As for Puff, well, he is Still drying on our radiator so that BB will have a(nother) permanent friend.

BB's vacation home

My prized possession when I was a kid was my doll house. My brothers wired it with working lights, my mom recovered walls and furniture to suit my needs and I redecorated the thing on a daily basis. Even to this day, if I can't sleep, I either write in my head or... rearrange furniture. I know, it sounds fabulously trite, but its my personal version of mental Tetris, visualizing each object in a room and trying them in new spaces until the feng shui is Just Right. My house, already fallen victim to my ridiculously sensitive eye (ill arranged houses Literally make me dizzy. I do not kid you. Physically Dizzy. Yes, I understand I have issues:) so chances are I've rearranged yours (no matter how fabulously done it is, its a compulsion, really) on some long, insomniac-laden night....

So it was with great fanfare that P and I discovered hidden levels to my old treasure in the basement this visit. He squealed with joy as we carried it upstairs, along with a box of furniture dying to train another child's spatial preferences. He requested I do a room or two and I was happy to comply while he finished off the house. He is four, and male, and I almost laughed out loud when I looked at his decorative choices. All of the pieces were lined up right at the entry edges of each room. Why reach all the way back into the house when the chairs can sit right here, easy-peasy? So what if they block doorways, cut off traffic flow or make no spacial sense? All of the red chairs were together, the bathroom stuff together, the kitchen stuff together. They were categorized and therefore logically placed :) Then, with immense drama, BB was driven to his New Home. There was such delight in P's voice, showing BB what he had for him. Each day I think the kid couldn't love that monster any more and then he goes and sets him up with a vacation home in the south. Awwwww.

Grown Up

We had our coop shift this afternoon (NOT the little man's favorite thing. We've talked and talked about it, the options (babysitter, papa, a different shift), all of the variables, and he insists on coming with me and not liking it :) He did his usual
ignoring of all peers for the entire shift. Then, about 15 minutes before our departure a 7 year old boy arrived. P's attention immediately became divided between the book we were reading and the activities of the boy. One of the younger kids could have choked to death and he wouldn't have looked up from his book, but now, well, now things were different. I offered to take a reading break. "No thanks mama." So we read for another page while he watched and then I cleverly excused myself to tidy the nursery :) He circled the boy. Handed him cars. And finally asked the kid if he'd like to race. So off they set, running, then frog hopping, then clam climbing and then car riding. He was laughing and whooping and looked at me and yelled "this is FUN!" This trend is so steady for P. So my new goal is to find him an older playmate that will somehow enjoy a much younger companion.

On the way home he chatted about what "seven" means, with lots of age related questions. As we slowed the scooter for a light he looked up and whispered (as all Very Important Communications are communicated lately) "But Mama, I already FEEl like a grown-up.... I do."

Schultz Extravaganza

So, the Schultz family, once assembled, does not let loose of one another easily:) Thanksgiving is so much more than piled plates. They go to movies en masse, have late night poker matches and even have annual volleyball and bowling matches against a rival family. Its a hoot and my mother often quips she wished they'd adopt her:)

We'll wait on the R rated movies and midnight poker for P, but he was game to watch the volleyball this year. Mimi got out some great gym toys and P merrily rolled along. Jace, the ever awesome Uncle got in on the fun.



E played alongside his siblings and P quickly clapped when he saw me cheer. It was pretty cute. I sidled up beside E after the game and expressed my awe at his dives - he'd really sacrificed himself for the game! P was skipping along, seemingly paying no attention yet 3 weeks later when we were playing catch and he dramatically dove for the ball he came up grinning "I sacrificed myself for that catch!" Oh those supersonic bat ears!!!

The crew moves onto bowling after the gym. This was P's first time and he was pretty psyched. These lanes had a kid's section complete with electronically raised bumpers, effectively allowing him to beat me... It was really cute to watch him bowl. He'd toss his ball with all his might and then stand and watch it move down the lane. I tend to roll and run, heaven forbid I watch my horribleness :) Then I realized that he too started walking away after his ball left his hands. D'oh! Could have been he was becoming bored with the game... or Mama better mentor better!



After the game his Aunt gave him some love filled tickles. The face she is making is so Schultz - the ecstasy of the friendly torture :) I imagine Chris and Jordan were pretending not to know us :)




He is so focused in the video below. His little Tevye dance when someone whoops for him kills me :)

The violinist

P's dream came true this Thanksgiving... he got the tiny Schultz violin that all of the Schultz kids played when they were just tots. He listened carefully to some pointers and set to serenading. Papa got his out too and then P changed his tune. He told me Papa's was "gooder." I told him I thought both he And Papa played beautifully. "No, Mama. Papa's sounds gooder, mine only squeaks." And really, nobody could argue with the kid, the tiny violin's sound just couldn't compete with the full sized version:) Ever the perfectionist, and wanting his to sound Amazing from the get go, he later bowed on Papa's as E created songs.

He did happily squeak on his for the rest of our trip though, mostly when no one was listening. My mom, however, had a real treat. She said he stood on her bed, singing Puff the Magic Dragon while happily bowing in rhythm. That's a performance I would have paid any price to see!

Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving day, holidays in general really, can be a bit overwhelming for P. Or those that love him :) His want for constant interaction teamed with family member's excitement to finally play with the little guy combine into a swirling frenzy for P. He gets so amped up by the attention and tossing that he couldn't possibly think of Ever Stopping. Unreachable by the logic that usually keeps his energy in check he gets a bit punchy ;)

So this year we planned on putting the play off for a bit for the sake of everyone's stamina. A dinosaur dig kit was the perfect distraction, giving him something to bang on and the skeleton he has long desired. Some say Grandpapa enjoyed it even more than P...

After he finished his focused play he was ready to rumble and Grandpapa complied with fervor.



P worked his way through everyone's energy, ending with the two youngest, Jace and Ian. They have an amazing capacity to keep up with the kid! Jace was the villain with the pillow eating shark, Ian the hero who saved P.




P could have stayed there all evening, but we still had one more family dinner to go! But the child was spent, seriously stretched beyond reason and merely bounced off of the walls at my folk's house. Ah, well, a child can only take so much fun in one day!


P commands Grandpapa to torture him:

The Chisolm Trail

The return drive from Lawrence goes through the beautiful Flint HIlls, a brief break from the state's characteristic flatness. Its really lovely. And P grew really excited, saying he just Knew we were going back to Colorado.
Me: Yeah? Would you like it if we were heading to Colorado?
P: Mama! No. Mama. We ARE heading to Colorado, I just know it. We Are.
Me: You want to go back to Colorado sometime?
P: Mama! We're going right now! I think I saw the mountains in the distance. We're really going! We are! .... are we really going to Colorado, Mama?
Me: What do you want to do when we get there?
P: Hike!!! Are we really going to Colorado, Mama?

(This is typical P conversation. If I say something he doesn't agree with he tells me the way he wants it to be. I validate that he wants something. He tells me it just IS, he doesn't Want it, it really IS! Then, after reassuring me of the real truth, me nodding all the while along with his reality, he asks me if his reality is really true, or not :)

The kid has been talking about our time in Colorado regularly since last summer. Hike this, hike that. E and I've even talked about moving somewhere more rural to have more hiking (anyone know of somewhere rural with subways that has a NYC vibe? :) So the following weekend we hit the Chisolm trail in Wichita for some hiking. P was in heaven, skipping down paths, wanting to explore every deer trail he saw. As we finally headed to the car he spied an old combine, rusting in the fields.



Oooo, could there be anything cooler on earth? It had been enough of a challenge heading to the trailhead before, now, with the combine, well, forgettaboutit. He climbed and poked and pulled and asked a zillion questions. As the closing time neared we employed one of P's new favorite games to exit peacefully: kissing races. We pick a point and the first person to it gets a kiss. Having required carrying for the end of our hike, P had a sudden burst of new energy and happily skipped ahead to secure his kisses :)

Lawrence- ho

The following weekend we visited Ella and Reed in Lawrence. We had a blast on their tire swing, ate pizza and played with Reed's cool train set. P realized the trains were the perfect size for little BB only to find.... we had forgotten little BB at Grams' house. Big BB was no help, the child, short on sleep and out of his element, was devastated. I suggested a paper one (our typical backup plan for missing BBBs) but no dice. He needed a little BB that was "fluffy." Some crayons, glue and a cotton ball later the new little BB was happily riding to the train station.

Hold onto your hats people...

Ella and Reed came to visit us one weekend in Wichita. P treated them to a wild ride on Gramps' mule (he thought it unbelievably funny to do 360's while everyone squeeled and the adults attempted to keep down lunch).

The Parachute

I have an old adventure people parachute from my childhood. It provided endless hours of fun for my brother and I. Cash even broke his leg using it. So, of course, I had to show it to P. BB fit it perfectly...

Just Sew It!

P thinks of new things he would like to have, um, daily :) So he's come up with some fairly creative ways to get what he desires, many of them include me broadening my unbelievably scanty sewing knowledge (I'm currently working on a huge squid featuring a mouth to eat BB. Um, yah.) We outfitted him with his own little sewing kit to while away the time as I create. No, it didn't really work:) He prefers driving cars over my body, chatting with BB the entire time. But he enjoys his kit occasionally anyway...

Mr. Active Alert

The Parenting Pit is a fabulous website authored by an Aussie (named Arun) who stayed with us this October. I'd loved/appreciated his humor filled unschooling wisdom many a read, but (obviously) never met the guy... until he came to NY! P Adored him, his sweet gifts, thoughtful ways and respectful responses. It was a life expanding visit and we were happy we took the plunge and opened our couch to him and his kind soul.

One night, Arun and I sat up chatting into the wee hours. At one point he called E's and mine parenting experience "pretty intense." I've thought a lot about that conversation over the past month... That conversation and realization led me to a book that led me to peace :)

Many of the mums I'm friends with here co-sleep, homeschool/unschool, skip the babysitter deal (kids aren't interested) and forgo videos as a babysitter too. The typical crutches our society uses to get by since we're sorrowfully lacking in tribal culture. This alone could warrant "intense parenting" labels from some (that's one of the nicer labels, for sure:). E and I have always assumed our harried heads were due to our parenting choices and particular personalities. But our visitor wasn't referring to the lovely life that comes from spending a slower, more contact laden day with your kid. He was speaking about the contact required by P in particular. What? Someone else thought it was "more?" Because E and I've felt that way for four years - but just figured we were wusses :)

I mean people have vaguely pointed out differences, sure. My mom has sweetly wondered aloud about his, um, excessive movement. Extended family often remark on his Energy and Alertness. (But were you to ask most mums up here about P (unless they've spent quite a bit of time with him), their descriptions vs my parent's would paint a Jekyl and Hyde portrait. He's quietly angelic in most groups and any new situations. Gravitates to my lap, rarely speaks and looks the perfect part of innocence. At least for the first few Hours -but I've mentioned his "hard to transition" ways before. Turns out, this dual persona is normal for an active alert child...)

But I think what our visitor was referring to in particular was the constancy. The need. The requests. The energy. I am Not going to bitch about my wonderful child on a blog dedicated to honoring him, so I don't mean any of these words as negatives. They are just truths. And they are truths that have, honestly, drained E and I for the last four years. We have thought ourselves enormous pussies. Slackers. Obviously less strong than our parents who had 11 kids between the two families. Cuz, at the end of the day, one is just plain ol' kickin' our ass.

I usually avoid any inclination of "woe is us" here, for want of sounding, of course, fabulous. Who wants to sound like a whiner? But I'm coming clean tonight. I can say quite honestly that from the moment he wakes me until the time he goes to bed at night I have about 5-10 minutes of alone time in my head each day. Some days, (the ones that feel lucky to this artist that used to stand at a wall, alone, for 10 hours a day, perfectly content in the silence), may find a combined 30 minutes over the course of the day, but this is very rare. I pee alone about once a week :)

Now I can hear the critics in my (spacious, after bed:) head as I type. Just tell him its "quiet time" once or twice a day. Hah. P and I've had chats about my head needing some space. Quite frankly, he takes it as a lover who has been told they are no longer wanted. He would happily spend every waking (and sleeping) second with me and it breaks his heart that I would feel any differently. And for a child that feels things sooo deeply and so heavily (and can't fathom why Mama would want to be away from him (because that's all me being alone is to him) it is too much, too heavy of a load for me to lay at his little, non-understanding feet. I'd choose busy over guilt any day, and so it goes :)

So after a typical morning in our house (I started to describe it in this post and it was too embarrassing, too unbelievable for all of its honesty. Mornings are difficult for P, transitioning back into the world, out of bed, into the day. Add in my need to quickly cook less he melt from hunger, combined with his hatred at letting loose of me as a playmate after fasting from play all night, and its a daily dance of drama!) But I digress... The typical morning was followed by me accidentally piercing the back of my freezer (yah, the monthly defrost went awry there!) and we ended up with the landlords in our house before we were even dressed. And I looked around at the laughable state of my morning. The house starts clean each day, I swear. Its my evening ritual. E reads P books, I tidy and clean to help meet the next day. But standing amidst the smell of compressor fluid and freon soaked towels covered in "icebergs", you would never have guessed this fact. It looked like a house filled with 7 children. And I swear, I felt like I'd had seven different kids pulling at me all morning too. And I, once again, wondered, how the hell did our parents do it???

The typical worries follow this sort of embarrassing moment. What have I done to create such a need filled, high energy, child? There was that one time that xyz, or perhaps when he was little and I (fill in the blank). I go round and round with a chicken and egg scenario. Is he so in need of attention and interaction because I always gave him attention, or... Then I smack my head and remember, oh yeah, I always gave him attention because he's requested it since he was born. Is he so high energy because of the way we play with him? But we follow his lead... Is he so against groups because I've pushed the issue? And on and on I go... when my head has the space to go, that is;)

But tonight I feel reborn in peace. Seriously. I recently read about a little book called "The Active Alert Child." I'm not one for labeling kids really, but there's a lot of helpful resources out there with labels on them, so I decided to give this one a try the other day. And holey schmoley, the book is about my kid. Every quote from every example in the first chapter has occurred in our house. It was amazing to actually recognize my kid in a book instead of constantly thinking, um, no, that's not us... I won't try to summarize in this already lengthy post, but its nice to finally feel like we're not crazy. We can stop glancing at each other with the "people have more than One of these?!" expressions. We can stop wondering why the parenting books we've read seem mostly ludicrous when applied to our child. I can quit the "is my child really a bit "more" or am I just a huge wuss" dance. I've tried so hard to love my child as he is, not to judge, manipulate or mold him to an ideal I have about what a child "should" be. To honor him, for who he is. To let Phoenix be truly Phoenix. And yet there has been this gnawing worry that he was slightly different, and it was All My Fault. Inherently different I can handle, hell, I love truly different :) But actively or accidentally screwing my kid up, not so much:) Apparently, according to this book, I have not inadvertently messed him up (not that there aren't plenty of ripe opportunities just ahead for me to do so ;) He is one of many Active Alert kids, perfectly normal, if not slightly different than the Hollywood stereotype of normal I expected to birth. So I look forward to meeting him tomorrow morning, in our dark, white noise filled sensory deprivation chamber, er, bedroom, knowing he is just who he is, a perfectly quirky boy who naturally needs me constantly around and just has to climb door jambs. Long story short, if you really want to understand P, forget the fucking blog and go get this book ;)

Gramps, Mules and Fire

In addition to his Gramsie-Grams, Kansas also holds Gramps and a mini-John Deere. And this time, Fire, another fave of Phoenix. One day, soon after our arrival, all of this fabulousness came together and P was just in Heaven.

Deciding to join Gramps at the much storied burn pile, P was keen on driving his little mule, just as Gramps had done. So my mom and I followed him as he slowly steered past the ponds to the cement bridge. He was pretty disappointed his machine couldn't brave the creek, but the burning bushes and bobcat tractor on the far side of the bridge provided a natural distraction :)



He was soooo stoked to see such a big fire.


We went with Gramps to gather more fallen branches. P pitched right in.



Back at the burn pile P happily tossed sticks for the rest of the afternoon. He'd have probably stayed out there all night had I not been so hungry :)



As we headed home he discovered his little engine had trouble with the steep incline. No problem - Gramps was happy to help. (P received the bumps with mixed emotions, turning to worriedly watch behind himself, thankful for the help but hoping his little mule could take the abuse :)



After this enjoyable afternoon Papa and P lit a few smaller bonfires after dark. They'd gather wood, Papa being immensely manly and cutting it with a hand saw, and then go through their routine of fire making. Then they'd tell stories about BB and roast the special food-coloring free marshmallows Gramsie-Grams found for Phoenix. And best of all, at the end of the evening P would reek so horribly of smoke that he'd happily hop in the bath and even Wash His Hair. That was worth a million bonfires right there!

Gramsie-Grams

We've just returned from a lovely, family filled visit to Kansas. P was sooo looking forward to this trip, as he really wanted to run over little BB with his Kansas combine (we created BBB after our last visit home). Little BB was taunted for days before we left, "BB, I'm going to mow you up!" Phoenix could barely contain his anticipation, lapsing in his "when will we get to my combine" queries only long enough to ask "when will Grams play with me?"

I lucidly remember that the defiant responses I was prone to in childhood met with steely glares and try that again dares. But P's self assured stances just receive heady laughter from his loving Grams. She thinks he's the funniest little thing on earth. Ahhh, the beauty of having grandchildren. But, typically, this laissez faire handling of autonomous offspring can only be maintained because said children Leave at the end of the day. Not us! My folks are stuck with us for the whooooole month. So E and I were truly touched that for our entire stay my mom's funny bone was tickled rather than ticked off.

P felt a Lot more independent this trip. And his independence worried me much less than in the past; a fabulous combo for both of us. Long gone are the days that he'd patter off and pop someone's pills, get lost in the huge house, wander aimlessly towards the pool or touch every breakable he could reach. (We're loving FOUR, and how much he Gets. I mean, shiny objects are still really, really appealing, but he'll chat with me first about his approach. And gawd only knows we've done enough pretend play with BB taking someone else's pills that that particular drama won't be re-enacted in real life!) So, feeling his freedom and fine with the absence of my worried shadow he wandered the house stalking my mother every chance he got.

(True to his genetic predisposition, pet names have come naturally to P. E is lovingly called "Papi," I'm occasionally "Mamo," and Grams has morphed into "Gramsie-Grams." Gramsie-grams-grams when he's hatched a plan :) And hatch he did. On a daily basis. He innately knew my mother is his sucker and would tell her his bidding. Mama is washing dishes, well then, Grams will get me my chocolate milk. I want some brownies, well then, I'll tell Grams to make some for me. Yes indeedy, the kid made himself at home.)

When she wasn't beings stalked or running errands for the little man, he would request a game or a book. His particular favorite this visit was a mechanical fishing game. The first time he played it he sat for Two Hours straight, fishing. He invited BB to fish too, giggling as he grabbed BB's fish, only to kiss the monster and give the fish back. Then he got Grams going on it. Apparently, Grams hadn't had the afternoon to practice and was having a harder time hooking something. She asked P his advice, saying he really knew how to get those fish. He fixed her with his eyes and said "Focus, Grams." She laughed on that one for the rest of the month.

So it was fortunate for us that Grams and Gramps had business in the Big Apple the same week we returned home. P was Not ready to let loose of his Gramsie. He understood the timeline, I told him they would be here for a few days before we saw them and then Grams could play again. As our taxi whizzed past the city's skyline from the airport P asked where exactly Grams was right then. We pointed out an approximate landmark and carried on home. That night, as we lay down to sleep P wistfully asked, "Grams knows we have a couch that turns into a bed? " Yes, I said, you told her. "Why she not sleep here then Mama?"

When Grams did arrive in Brooklyn, P practically pulled her arm off leading her around his house, the tree he and Papa bought, the pirate ship, the couch that turns into a bed, hint hint. At the end of the day, as she kissed him goodbye, he reminded her, again, about the couch, saying she didn't have to go, she could just live with us :) Personally, I'm hoping the kid gets to her... there's an open apartment just beneath us if the couch sounds too small....

The little boy

The poem below is P to a T. Despite his being amazingly strong willed and knowing his mind, he questions his abilities when confronted with more adept adults. If he tries something new and someone steps in to show him a "better" or "proper" approach its often all over for him. The fire and possibilities are gone, swallowed by a staid and solid "goal." He saw one of my works (his first time) when we were home and felt fairly inspired afterwards. He requested large paper and pencils so he could make a drawing for me - and then we could trade (he wanted mine :) As I cooked he worked at the table, then set down his pencils and wandered towards me, done. Under his breath he sighed "I wish my drawing looked like yours." And this is why he paints rather than draws. He sees a goal in drawing: reality. Perfectionist that he is, this is a goal he can't yet achieve and therefore he only feels frustration. In paint (we've seen lots of modern painter's works here!) there is only possibilities...

This poem tugs at my heartstrings - how malleable wee ones are and how easily we can fuck them up, even with the best of intentions....


The Little Boy

Once a little boy went to school.
He was quite a little boy
And it was quite a big school.
But when the little boy
Found that he could go to his room
By walking right in from the door outside
He was happy;
And the school did not seem
Quite so big anymore.

One morning
When the little boy had been in school awhile,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make a picture."
"Good!" thought the little boy.
He liked to make all kinds;
Lions and tigers,
Chickens and cows,
Trains and boats;
And he took out his box of crayons
And began to draw.

But the teacher said, "Wait!"
"It is not time to begin!"
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
"Now," said the teacher,
"We are going to make flowers."
"Good!" thought the little boy,
He liked to make beautiful ones
With his pink and orange and blue crayons.
But the teacher said "Wait!"
"And I will show you how."
And it was red, with a green stem.
"There," said the teacher,
"Now you may begin."

The little boy looked at his teacher's flower
Then he looked at his own flower.
He liked his flower better than the teacher's
But he did not say this.
He just turned his paper over,
And made a flower like the teacher's.
It was red, with a green stem.

On another day
When the little boy had opened
The door from the outside all by himself,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make something with clay."
"Good!" thought the little boy;
He liked clay.
He could make all kinds of things with clay:
Snakes and snowmen,
Elephants and mice,
Cars and trucks
And he began to pull and pinch
His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, "Wait!"
"It is not time to begin!"
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
"Now," said the teacher,
"We are going to make a dish."
"Good!" thought the little boy,
He liked to make dishes.
And he began to make some
That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said "Wait!"
"And I will show you how."
And she showed everyone how to make
One deep dish.
"There," said the teacher,
"Now you may begin."

The little boy looked at the teacher's dish;
Then he looked at his own.
He liked his better than the teacher's
But he did not say this.
He just rolled his clay into a big ball again
And made a dish like the teacher's.
It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon
The little boy learned to wait,
And to watch
And to make things just like the teacher.
And pretty soon
He didn't make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened
That the little boy and his family
Moved to another house,
In another city,
And the little boy
Had to go to another school.
This school was even bigger
Than the other one.
And there was no door from the outside
Into his room.
He had to go up some big steps
And walk down a long hall
To get to his room.
And the very first day
He was there,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make a picture."
"Good!" thought the little boy.
And he waited for the teacher
To tell what to do.
But the teacher didn't say anything.
She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy
She asked, "Don't you want to make a picture?"
"Yes," said the lttle boy.
"What are we going to make?"
"I don't know until you make it," said the teacher.
"How shall I make it?" asked the little boy.
"Why, anyway you like," said the teacher.
"And any color?" asked the little boy.
"Any color," said the teacher.
"If everyone made the same picture,
And used the same colors,
How would I know who made what,
And which was which?"
"I don't know," said the little boy.
And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

—Helen Buckley

Phoenix turns four

P has been chatting about this birthday since, oh, when he turned three :) He loves everything about birthdays, particularly the song and the surprises wrapped in pretty packages. And after going to his first bday party this year (the twins') he also loved the idea of helium balloons. So I knew that including those three things would make his day. We topped it off by surrounding him with two of his uncles and an aunt and his day was golden. Despite the raging fever....

Birthdays bump up against our ethical code for living, creating a crazy pull between experiencing real joy with our child and kicking ourselves about balloons, wrapping paper and consumption :) But I had the feeling I'd been veering too far towards My ideals on His birthday when P sighed one day and dreamily asked if I thought he might, maybe, get a present with pretty paper and a bow this year :) (Wha? Those plain, recycled cardboard boxes don't seem festive?) Unfortunately, his pirate ship wouldn't fit in a pretty package once assembled, so we tied a bunch of helium balloons to it and left it in the middle of the room (hoping he wouldn't be up puking in the middle of the night and ruin the surprise :)

After a restless night he emerged, excited but bleary eyed, to see an apparently overwhelming site. He stood, transfixed, in one doorway, looking at his ship and balloons in the next room. But it wasn't clear what he was feeling, mini-enigma that he is. Having really thought through this surprise, I was just beginning to question myself when he bellowed for BB. Only once his monster joined him at his side did he crack a smile of extreme pleasure. "Look BB. Look at that." And he pointed and grinned as the monster oooed and ahhhed. Then he grabbed BB's arm and rushed to his present. Phew. Nothing worse than disappointing your four year old on the first birthday he'll probably remember :)

P gives into a grin:


Little BB takes a ride:


Before the fever was an issue we had asked P his hopes for his birthday. Musuem? Pirate ship tour? Hiking upstate? Nope, he just wanted to hang at home all day and play with us. So his fever did little to deter our plans. Little BB fit perfectly on the pirate ship and he sailed around all morning. P opened from Grams after lunch (party paper and bows and all) and we played his new games for the rest of the afternoon (he Loves games lately). By the time evening rolled around his fever was spiking and his energy dwindling. Seth and Alicia arrived to find him lethargic on the couch, too sick to open his presents without help. It was pretty pathetic.

Hating to offer medicine that would give him the comfort to jump and wrestle all evening only to crash harder later, we did it anyway - for the sake of the bday:) Within the hour he was enthusiastically shooting the spinner Uncle Bric gave him and strumming his guitar from Seth. He also shared his new pirate tattoos with everyone and stood in the dark bedroom to watch them glow. He was so surrounded by love and thoughtfulness he was practically glowing himself.

P helps Aunt Alicia with her tatoo:


One proud P:


Papa and P:


His chosen dessert, after many, many changed minds, was pumpkin pie. I shocked him silly by having candles and we all sang his favorite song. Forgetting his fever, I encouraged him to blow his candles out and then looked on in illuminated horror as I saw germs spew all over the pie. Brave family that they are, they all ate dessert :)



After that, our worms were somehow brought up and E was finally fully alert :) He grabbed his babies and proudly showed them off. P loves the Idea of our worms, but, perhaps because of their extreme numbers, he's always been a bit shuttery around them. Digging in the park, he'll rescue worms and build them little homes, but pull out the compost and he just "ewwws." His newfound fourness found him proudly holding a red wiggler worm... until it suddenly squiggled and he squealed and jumped. This got a big laugh and prompted more shenanigans. Ending with E kindly letting a worm walk on his head....




After reading one of the new books Aunt Alicia gave him he zonked, hard, only to hold onto his fever for another two days. Fortunately for us, she had also given him "The Inventions of Huge Cabret," all 550 pages of it. Told in story and pictures it instantly captured Phoenix's fascination, and he burned through it while waiting for his fever to abate, generally breaking only to play his guitar :) By the time we left town at the end of the week we only had 30 pages left, and I'd guess we'll start right back at the beginning as soon as we finish it.

A feverish Halloween

My mother informed me this morning that she is tired of looking at the pumpkin pictures :) Unfortunately, along with our toothbrushes, I forgot to pack my smart-drive... the one that allows me to upload pics to the blog. Apparently, she is rather devoted to the blog, or rather disdainful of jack-o-lanterns, as not more than a few hours later she has procured a smart-drive from a drawer. Thanks mom!



P has amassed a respectable costume bucket in the past few months. He adores the Idea of dress up. But his link between imagination and reality gets pretty fuzzy pretty fast and costumes tend to confuse him even faster. So, he'll put something on, BB and I will go along with it, and within two minutes he's ripping it off, explaining to us that its actually just him, Phoenix.



Seems silly? Get this. A few months ago we were playing while I did the dishes. I believe I was the evil stepmother and he was attempting to befriend me with kindness. Once I was kind, he was done with me and requested Cinderella play while the dishes were done. While humming a merry tune :), out of habit, I leaned over and kissed the top of his head. Instead of the normal neutrality with which this is usually accepted, I felt him bristle. Wha?? Bristling at my kiss? I hesitated behind him, wondering what had happened when I heard him whisper to himself, "That ok. Yah... I know Cinderella."

He was Uncomfortable with me kissing him because I wasn't really me. We played on and as I dried my hands I instinctively held a bite of food out to his baby bird mouth. He hesitated. Was he full? Nope. He looked at me, hard, and then muttered "I know her..." then looked at me and said, "Mama, is that you?"

The kid Won't take food from strangers. Not even extras from waitresses at restaurants that offer something we didn't order. Not unless he knows their name. Strike one for the creeps of the world, sure (the extremism is Ethan's genes to a T :) But not even from his own Mother when she is pulling a pathetic Cinderella voice? Now That is an imagination I could get behind.

But if its Me, standing there, how can he get confused? So I asked him.
Me: P, when I'm doing Cinderella or the step-mum, can you see me?
P: No
Me: Oh.... Really?
P: Well, yah. You're standing over to the side (and he motions to the side of himself)
Me: Oh.

I had a hilarious mental image of an enormous illustrated Cinderella standing by the sink and a transparent me floating beside P as backup. I have no idea what he actually sees, but, apparently, it isn't highly representative of reality :) So, getting back to costumes, he worries quite quickly that we don't understand that the adorable pirate is really P and has to rip it off to reassure us.

Nevertheless, he was super psyched for Halloween. He wasn't, however, jumping into a suit. Everyone kept asking him what he would be for Halloween, and it changed over the weeks. I had the basics for a few of his faves on the off chance he'd actually wear something, but I wasn't holding my breath or dedicating my evenings to grand sewing projects...

And on the day of he announced he would Not dress up. I mentioned that full regalia wasn't required, perhaps just a hook, even just a finger puppet might do. Something, anything for the shop keepers to recognize him as a trick-or-treater. He seemed tired, so we read a few books, including one about Dex, the super dog. And as the time to dress neared he declared he would go as "Super Nuffin." I asked if this required a patch of any sort and he said no, it was just Super. Nothin. That was all. Problem solved :)

Then he fell apart over I don't even know what. And then, for the first time in his short life, he just. fell. asleep. On the floor. Face down. After the biggest cry I've seen in over a year. It was pathetic and adorable.



And then he woke up with a fever and it all made sense :)

(You might notice the cat, cuddled up to him. Danda, the most devoted kitty on the planet. Despite all of the chasing, roaring, and tail pulling, this cat Runs to him as fast as she can whenever she hears him cry.)

So he really was super nothin for Halloween. Fortunately, the Pumpkin Fairy (friend to all kids with food allergies) visited with gifts and chemically coloring free candy, bringing fever filled glee to P. But he had sooo hoped to hand out candy that we bundled him up and went onto the stoop with a little bucket. (He even wanted to hand out his Own candy, we hadn't bought any, assuming we'd be out Getting rather than Giving :) And while we, as parents, at first worried that his Halloween would be ruined without the expected hub-bub, we should have trusted that it was all as it should be. It was perfect for P, who trick-or treated a zillion times with BB, in the comfort of his own home, sans costume, just as he actually prefers it.