Crying as a Sign of Content?

Jack STILL cries whenever I drop him off at daycare. In fact, when I tell him in the morning that we'll be going to Aunti Marie's house, he starts whine/crying. He hasn't quite figured out how to rebel, so he'll just stand there,crying and cooperating while I put his hat and coat on. He cries in the car once he realizes we're on the road. He cries when we get in the house and cries up until I hand him over, walk back down the hallway, and (usually) stops when I get to the bottom of the stairs (out of sight). I hate it. I'm tense when I leave and it takes me a solid twenty minutes to let it go. All I can think is that he hates it there, that he hates not having blankie (we don't take it anymore), and he'll hate me for going.

This morning, after dropping Jack off and taking Ed to BU, Ed said that he cries because he feels good attachment to us. What??!! I told Ed he was talking out of his parenting ass. A bit annoyed-- and rightly so-- Ed went on to explain that it is because of Jack's healthy attachment to us that he has separation anxiety. It would be an issue if he had no problem leaving us, or if he cried and cried and cried. Apparently, this crying is a good thing. I do remember reading something about what Ed is talking about back when I would pour over every parenting book available (I gave that up the night they didn't give me a quick solution for how to understand the individual that is Jack).

I still hate it. Basically, Jack cries because he loves us and his home so much that he'd rather be with us. The thing is, us grown-ups have forgotten what it is like to purely just want to be at home with our family; we've adjusted to having to get things done, go to work, go to school, do all that other stuff that is supposed to make time with family worthwhile. Funny how all that other stuff tends to push family time down the list. Oh, well.

We're heading home to the Northwest for Christmas. I can't wait to be with Jack and all of our family all of the time. I do realize that it will only make daycare that much tougher when we get back, but I think it will be worth it. So, okay, the crying is the result of being loved well. I get it- it's all the bittersweetness our parents talk about. Whew. That's all it is...

Just Say No

Jack has learned how to "say" no - he shakes his head back and forth.

Me or Laura: "Jack, do you want to go take a bath?"

Jack: [shakes his head back and forth]

Me or Laura: "Jack, do you want some more milk?"

Jack: [shakes his head back and forth]

He's even learned how to say "no". It's more like a emphatic, "nnna". That's usually accompanied with a point of the finger toward the person asking him the question that requires a "nnna".

Of course all of this is still mind-numbingly cute (talk to me in 10 years time)

Me: "Jack, time to come in for dinner"

Jack: "What? Are you kidding me? No way."

I don't know- mom did say I could only write on the paper, but this kitchen floor is just so dull... 

Is this the right color green? 

The happy artist 

Jack "Pollock" Kingston

Okay, so I know every parent thinks their child is a genius or the next DaVinci. I am no exception. I admit, though, I am surprised at how easily I've begun to fantasize about Jack becoming a brilliant artist. And not that I need him to be anything more than he is -watching him feed himself is brilliant enough for me. But, lately, Jack has been very busy drawing. That's all he does: draw, draw, draw. Typical toddler art- lots and lots of spirals and circles. Ever since he discovered a certain set of pens (the non-washable, of course), he's been manipulating them whenever he's not sleeping, eating, or having quality mommy, daddy or blanket time. I have these visions of walking into the living room, looking over his work and saying, "you've done it, Jack; you've cracked it wide open..."

The other night, we assembled our new hallway bench/coat rack from Target and Jack barely interupted (other than the occasional hammering "just like daddy"). He laid on the floor, thrilled to be coloring a long strip of white cardboard that came with the packing.

Last night we went out and left Jack with the babysitter. He was drawing on a notepad at the coffee table (of course). I told him that mommy and daddy were going bye-bye and that Lauren would stay and play with him. He didn't look up. I asked him for kiss. While still drawing, he leaned his head my way, still NOT looking up, and accepted my kiss. Did the same for Ed. Didn't cry at all when we left.

This morning, after a somewhat rough night coughing and being stuffed up with a cold, Jack sat on my lap on the couch with blankie watching whatever PBS kid show is on(as is our morning routine). He didn't sit there five minutes before he saw pad and pen- and off my lap he jumped, scrambling for this morning's artistic discovery.

Our house contains a gaggle of 8 1/2 x 11 inch paper, all colored in red, black, or green ink. Once he's finished with one, he throws it on the ground, drawing on the next. And, I have to admit, I like that he has an activity that keeps him so occupied (I've been waiting for this since he was born). I should save some of the "artwork" but they all look the same. I'll grab one that shows spark of his artistic individuality, but then, as a mom, won't they all look like that?