We should have stayed home

From Aug. 14, 2008 ...

"Hugs are for friends. Kisses are for family."

I learned this today from Ally's mom. Ally, 4-ish, her sister, 6-ish, and her mother, biddy-ish, were at Barnes & Noble. So were Blake, Dylan and I, in what was perhaps one of my biggest lapses in judgement in, well, a couple of days. We were there to buy gifts for the neighbor boys, twins turning 3 tomorrow. I just found out about the birthday yesterday, and I've become friendly with their mother, so I needed to brave the outside world and go shopping today.

Ally found Blake irresistible. Blake found these things irresistible: Curious George dolls, kitchen play sets, children's Bibles, My Little Pony stickers, Little Mermaid stamps, Star Wars books, and two stuffed deer.

Dylan found the timing irresistible for a full-on scream fest. He'd been this way all morning with agonizing reflux. We had started getting ready to leave the house three hours before we finally did. I should have realized that once he stopped crying, it would be time for him to eat again. Instead, once he stopped crying, at nearly lunchtime, I gave Blake a banana and said, "Let's go!"

Dylan was smelly and soaked with spit-up, and my shirt was damp and stained, but Blake looked good, so ...

"He's very cute," Ally said, holding Blake's hand after he stood very still for another kiss.

"Thank you," I told her. "You're a nice little girl." Then, (over Dylan's screams from the sling, which usually has a narcotic effect, but no luck today), "Blake, please help me stack these pink glittery things you have messed up.

"Blake, let's go pick up the George dolls and find the diaper bag.

"Blake, I didn't know you liked Star Wars. Leave those alone and let's pick up our mess...."

You might get the idea. I was one of those mothers with a shrieking newborn and a wild toddler, both in need of lunch and a nap. As I think about it, tho, I don't think I've ever witnessed such a scene in real life. Only in movies or on bad TV.

In real life, you might expect someone to say, "I'll help you. Let me re-stack that My Little Pony crap. You go tackle Curious George. Today, that person could have been Ally's mom. Hey, if Ally had had her way, we would have been in-laws! But no, the woman did her best to not acknowledge me, or my "very cute" son. She only calmly informed Ally that "hugs are for friends, kisses are for family" in a tone that let me know she considered us to be neither. Whose kid was she worried about? If I find out Blake has some disease from Ally kisses, I will doubly hate this woman.

So ... Next time you see some poor, pathetic woman trying to not leave a disaster behind her at the store, if you have a free minute, at least offer to help. If you're reading this in West Hartford, I can tell you in advance that I will really appreciate the help!

I think I'll move to Australia ...

From May 14, 2008 ...

What I'm going to tell you about is not unique. It may even be routine for some. But I'm writing this down, anyway, because maybe my son will read it someday and think about apologizing. I also thought you might get a laugh out of it ... Someone should, anyway!

Today, at almost 19 months, Blake had his first real temper tantrum.

He is in need of a haircut -- his third -- so after a perfectly normal morning playing at the pool, we went to Degra's Barber Shop, where a friend had told us they charge $6 for a kids haircut.

So far, we have paid $25 for a good haircut and $16 for an OK haircut. Both times, Blake cried and screamed like each hair trimmed was bleeding. So I figured $6 was a much better price for what was likely going to be a real ordeal.

We parked in one of Degra's two parking spaces and went inside. Turns out, they charge $18, and suddenly Blake's hair didn't look so bad to me. Plus, I had seen a sign on a place down the street that said Kids Cuts $11. I told the woman that $18 was a little steep for us today, and thank you, we'd look someplace else.

Blake had other things in mind.

He wouldn't sit back in his car seat. The tears came instantly. The screams were ungodly. He arched his back. He tensed all his muscles. He locked his knees. His arms wrapped around my neck in a stranglehold.

I stood him on the ground. He grabbed my hand and ran back to the door of the barber shop, which was open to let in a nice breeze.

I explained that we would go somewhere else to get his hair cut and picked him up to go back to the car. The scene was the same, only it escalated.

I got him out of the car again. Again, he walked back to the door. I considered plunking down the $18, but at this point figured a haircut could turn dangerous.

We repeated this back-and-forth, tears streaming, screams waking the dead, for 45 minutes. At times, I held him, sitting on the bumper of the car, and he seemed to calm down. Then I would try to put him in his seat and it would start over.

I'm sure the woman inside the barber shop was thinking that $18 was not nearly enough for a little boys haircut.

Eventually, I was able to get his arms in the straps of his car seat. I loosened the crotch attachment to accommodate his stiff, straight body, and got it fastened. Then I pulled it tight, which essentially forced Blake to bend and sit back.

We drove home, the screaming, sobbing and hyperventilating continuing.

I took him inside and we sat in his rocking chair. He pointed to a book. We read it, and he feel asleep, without his lunch. He's still sleeping now.

The book he picked? "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." I'm not kidding.

And, yes, I know, some days are like this.

Mork calling Orson

When I was 8 years old, some kids on the school bus made fun of me for not knowing what "nanu nanu" meant. I also didn't know why everyone was shaking hands in a split-fingered way. See, my bedtime was a so-unfair 8 p.m., so – somehow -- I was oblivious to "Mork and Mindy."

I told my parents about the kids on the bus. They bought me some rainbow suspenders, but I never got to watch the show until it was in syndication.

So I got a chuckle this weekend when Blake's toddler chattering produced a distinct "nanu nanu." He noticed me laughing, and "nanu nanu" became the phrase of the day. I showed him the Orkan handshake and called him "Mork."

For some reason, when I said, "Mork," he would respond, "Da Da!"

I tried to tell him that his father was not from Ork, but I needed a visual.

I don't know who the people are who have time to post things on YouTube. But I found the "Mork and Mindy" opening theme and played it for Blake.

I have since played it about 4,000 times.

It got us through dinner last night. He ate every bite of turkey burger and green beans. His only protests were when I didn't hit "replay" fast enough.

Since then, "nanu nanu" has gotten a bit tiresome, as Blake screeches and shrieks for more YouTube entertainment. It makes me think about that 8 o'clock bedtime. Genius. Absolute genius.

It occurs to me that our kids knowing who Mork is might be as weird as my not knowing in 1980, but in case you want to give your child a dose of pop culture …

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EbEBErvW-Uc

"Mommy"

10-7-08

Blake’s first word, “duck,” didn’t come until he was 17 months old. About the same time, he started using sign language, so verbal communication, other than screams and shrieks, came somewhat slow to him. But lately he’s had at least a new word a day. Sunday, it was “zucchini.” Yesterday, it was “Mommy.”
He’s been saying, “Mama,” for months, but when I heard that first real “Mommy,” I just wanted to hear it again.
However, Blake, at almost 2 years old, does not always perform on cue.
He said it when he was whining, loudly, after waking from a nap. It went something like this:
Blake: Whine, cry, fuss, slobber, stomp, “Mommeeeee!”
Me: Blake, did you say, “Mommy?”
Blake: No.
Me: Can you say, “Mommy”?
Blake: No.
Me: Can you please say, “Mommy”?
Blake: No.
Me: Can you say, “Mama”?
Blake: No.
Me: Can you say, “Dada”?
No.
“Baby”?
No.
“Tippy”?
No.
“Shoes”?
No.
“Socks”?
No.
“Car”?
No.
“Cat”?
No.
“Zucchini”?
No.
“OK,” I said. “Can you say, ‘No’”?
He paused …. Then, “Nope!”