We've been taking Jack to Mass lately; today marks the second week in a row, AND the first time Jack has sat through an entire church service without either of us having to take him in the hallway to avoid complete meltdown. We attend a children's mass at St. Ignatius near Boston College. Like any good children's Mass, the kids are free to squirm, walk around, cry, talk, and be completely unaware of the volume of their voices without uptight adults turning around and shooshing them. (wish they had children's flights like this).
Apparently, Jack enjoys church- from the getting ready to the last hymn. First of all, he was pumped this morning when we asked him if he wanted to put on his 'nice brown shoes' and go sit in the chair at church next to mom and dad and see the kids. (In addition to his indistinct "uh" yes sound, he put his head way back, held it there for a second, then brought if forward very dramatically as if to say, YYYEEEEESSSS instead of a mere simple nod). Last week, he couldn't get enough of sitting in the chair like a big kid. When we settled in for Mass this morning, we stood, like good Catholics (or good wives of Catholics0 to sing the opening hym. Jack let us know in no uncertain (or quiet) terms that we should be sitting "DOWN." But, then Jack enjoyed the singing, and after that hymn, and all others, clapped loudly. The highlight for me came when Jack realized he could grab his own nose, like he grabs ours, and like us, exclaimed a clear "honk," chuckling at the fact that he didn't need our noses anymore to 'honk.' Ed & I both couldn't help but giggle when Jack turned around and explained to the girl behind us that he had a "BALL" that he was going to throw- and indeed, he did "throw" an imaginary ball, quite hard. Show off.
Of course, Jack wasn't the main entertainment. The gospel reading was the one where Jesus gets fired up at everyone for using the temple as a market place- you know the one where the son of God flips over tables in a crazed rage - I imagine that scene in "When a Man Loves A Woman" when Andy Garcia loses it in the living room and flips over the coffee table. Anyway, the priest thought he would focus in on how God is trying to get our attention- he asked the congregation what they would do if they were in the kitchen and the stove caught on fire. Expecting (a verb one should never engage when dealing with kids) the answer something along the lines of, "I'd yell for mom," a second grader exclaimed for everyone to clearly hear: "STOP, DROP, & ROLL." Heaven forbid (!) we have to be set on fire to get our attention. At the end of Mass, one of the announcers let us know we could hang our "lent sarifice" on one of the trees near the altar. She read some of the sacrifices hung by other kids. Among them, "eat my broccoli- God, help me." I should probably borrow that one.
Today also marked the first time that our little threesome went to the altar together to receive communion. Technically, I'm not supposed to engage in the sacrament because I wasn't babtized Catholic- and usually I don't because I get so angry that some MAN thinks they can get in the way of me and God because of some man-written doctrine written a gazillion years ago. Of course, the fact that I like Mass for its traditional liturgy only makes it all that much more complicated. But, every now and then, I let go and let God and somehow am open to receive communion no matter what church I am in. Besides, Jack's entertaining didn't really give me the time to stew over whether or not I was invited to the table or not and maybe that's how all church should be: a family outing, a little light laughter, some serious attention-getting, and the experience of a genuine sacrament despite humanities innate flaws.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Because if a picture is worth a thousand words, I've written A LOT
In an effort to undo weeks of not writing, I've posted the latest pictures of Jack. I promise they are more entertaining than anything I could write at the moment. Enjoy....
Monday, February 20, 2006
Why the Irish?
Today we took Jack to the Children's Museum. I took pictures, and like my other semi-empty promises of the same, I'll post them later. There were about one thousand other kids there. Seems half of the other parents of children seven and under in Boston had the same idea: no school? no work? too cold to be outside? How about an indoor outing to the children's museum?
Jack had a wonderful time; he had no problem blending into the madness. He loved playing with the boats in the water, was star-struck by the Arthur exhibit and climbed the fake rocks (over and over) in the climbing room.
The highlight for me came when Jack mimicked my "wow" at the "Boston Black" murals (yeah, they call it like it is). After the second "woooww," Ed thought he'd see if Jack would mimic him. Ed turned around and said, "Go Irish." Jack said, "GO" and then something that could have been "irish" (sounded like i-ish). That was Ed's highlight, of course.
On the way home, I asked Ed what he would tell Jack when Jack asked him why he was a Notre Dame fan. I mean, Ed is Irish and he is catholic, but he nor any of his family attend/have attended the college. Most people are fans of sports teams that they've been connected to geographically, no? It's one of those mysteries we experience with spouses probably best left unexplained. Anyway, Ed's answer was, "The Irish are fucking great." Okay, so Jack's going to be four and someone's going to ask him why he likes the Irish and he's going to say "they're fucking great." I guess it keeps the asker from probing for more specifics.
Jack had a wonderful time; he had no problem blending into the madness. He loved playing with the boats in the water, was star-struck by the Arthur exhibit and climbed the fake rocks (over and over) in the climbing room.
The highlight for me came when Jack mimicked my "wow" at the "Boston Black" murals (yeah, they call it like it is). After the second "woooww," Ed thought he'd see if Jack would mimic him. Ed turned around and said, "Go Irish." Jack said, "GO" and then something that could have been "irish" (sounded like i-ish). That was Ed's highlight, of course.
On the way home, I asked Ed what he would tell Jack when Jack asked him why he was a Notre Dame fan. I mean, Ed is Irish and he is catholic, but he nor any of his family attend/have attended the college. Most people are fans of sports teams that they've been connected to geographically, no? It's one of those mysteries we experience with spouses probably best left unexplained. Anyway, Ed's answer was, "The Irish are fucking great." Okay, so Jack's going to be four and someone's going to ask him why he likes the Irish and he's going to say "they're fucking great." I guess it keeps the asker from probing for more specifics.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
2 seconds that make up for any 2 months
Before we moved from Seattle, Ed's mom gave me the blanket he had as a baby. It's a warm blanket knitted by a neighbor, and I assume, friend.
The blanket is in the shape of a rectangle; knitted with soft cotton yarn, predominately white with thick green and yellow stripes. When I go in around 10:00 at night to cover Jack up from the shoulders down, more than half of the blanket lies beyond his feet. I have to go in and cover him up in one of his deep sleep modes, because if he's even slightly awake, he'll kick the blanket off. With our Boston nights often hitting a high of 9 degrees, I can't sleep beneath my down comforter knowing that Jack might be anything less than perfectly warm - even if he only leaves the blanket on until his next light sleep cycle.
When we unpacked last August, I put Ed's baby blanket in the crib drawer, partly because it was special and partly because it is so big that I was worried Jack could get tangled up in it. Besides, I was more worried about keeping Jack cool then. But, as the New England weather grew cold (and our heating bills up), I wanted to have something warm for the little guy.
The other night, I went in to cover up Jack and I couldn't find the (knitted) blanket (I always leave it at the foot of the crib). I thought maybe I had taken it out when I changed the sheet and forgot to put it back in. He has another blanket in there, a kind of "decoy" for his real blankie (we've been hoping to introduce it as "blankie two" for when blankie uno shreds apart). Decoy blankie used to be the only "cover up blanket" until I'd go in and Jack would be sleeping on it and I couldn't pull it out without waking him up- and then he'd see me, get upset, I'd leave him (crying) and, of course, without a cover: another reason that I got out Ed's baby blanket- to have a back up blanket to cover Jack up with.
For the first time, Jack had moved his dad's baby blanket from the foot of the crib to the head of the crib. His entire body was sleeping next to the blanket, almost as if he was being spooned by it. Before the other night, he'd never even acknowledged this blanket. Maybe they've been getting to know one another after I'd tuck him in; maybe he's gotten used to the feel of it in the deepest of his sleeps. All I know is that when I went in to cover him up and saw him cuddled up next to his father's blanket- chosen by his gorgeous Jack hands to be right up there with Blue, Puppy, and Elmo, well, I swear all those weeks and months of helping the kid sleep on his own (nearly a year ago now) was all worth it. I like that he's sleeping with the blanket that Ed used; I like that 30+ years after his dad snuggled up to it with no doubt his mom concerned with is warmth (too much, like me, no doubt), Jack is now, with no language and no conscious understanding of the history of that blanket, made it his sleep buddy. Coincidence? Maybe. But, decoy blanket has never been so intimately place, nor has the half dozen other stuffed animals that remain at the foot of the crib.
I was able to life up the end of the long side of the blanket and lay it over him, perfectly, peacefully.
Gotta love legacy.
The blanket is in the shape of a rectangle; knitted with soft cotton yarn, predominately white with thick green and yellow stripes. When I go in around 10:00 at night to cover Jack up from the shoulders down, more than half of the blanket lies beyond his feet. I have to go in and cover him up in one of his deep sleep modes, because if he's even slightly awake, he'll kick the blanket off. With our Boston nights often hitting a high of 9 degrees, I can't sleep beneath my down comforter knowing that Jack might be anything less than perfectly warm - even if he only leaves the blanket on until his next light sleep cycle.
When we unpacked last August, I put Ed's baby blanket in the crib drawer, partly because it was special and partly because it is so big that I was worried Jack could get tangled up in it. Besides, I was more worried about keeping Jack cool then. But, as the New England weather grew cold (and our heating bills up), I wanted to have something warm for the little guy.
The other night, I went in to cover up Jack and I couldn't find the (knitted) blanket (I always leave it at the foot of the crib). I thought maybe I had taken it out when I changed the sheet and forgot to put it back in. He has another blanket in there, a kind of "decoy" for his real blankie (we've been hoping to introduce it as "blankie two" for when blankie uno shreds apart). Decoy blankie used to be the only "cover up blanket" until I'd go in and Jack would be sleeping on it and I couldn't pull it out without waking him up- and then he'd see me, get upset, I'd leave him (crying) and, of course, without a cover: another reason that I got out Ed's baby blanket- to have a back up blanket to cover Jack up with.
For the first time, Jack had moved his dad's baby blanket from the foot of the crib to the head of the crib. His entire body was sleeping next to the blanket, almost as if he was being spooned by it. Before the other night, he'd never even acknowledged this blanket. Maybe they've been getting to know one another after I'd tuck him in; maybe he's gotten used to the feel of it in the deepest of his sleeps. All I know is that when I went in to cover him up and saw him cuddled up next to his father's blanket- chosen by his gorgeous Jack hands to be right up there with Blue, Puppy, and Elmo, well, I swear all those weeks and months of helping the kid sleep on his own (nearly a year ago now) was all worth it. I like that he's sleeping with the blanket that Ed used; I like that 30+ years after his dad snuggled up to it with no doubt his mom concerned with is warmth (too much, like me, no doubt), Jack is now, with no language and no conscious understanding of the history of that blanket, made it his sleep buddy. Coincidence? Maybe. But, decoy blanket has never been so intimately place, nor has the half dozen other stuffed animals that remain at the foot of the crib.
I was able to life up the end of the long side of the blanket and lay it over him, perfectly, peacefully.
Gotta love legacy.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Separation Anxiety across the board
For the most part, Jack is quite content. He loves coloring, playing with his "Edward" train (which looks like Thomas, so that's what we call him), and tackling us with the football. But, he still cries whenever I tell him we're going to Auntie's (daycare). It's so frustrating - I still have to keep down the overwhelming feelings of guilt as if squelching vomit.
Lately, Jack's been adding his crying routine at the end of the day. Yes, he gets upset when we leave Auntie's. He initially waves good-bye to everyone, but by the time we're out the door, he starts to get upset. I ask him if he wants to go home and he shakes his Ed, "no." I don't know- maybe he's just getting used to being in one place and hates change. Boy, I can relate. I crave a secure schedule, too, babe. I think we gave that up when we moved to Boston. Someone recently told me that maybe striving to be the perfect parent is too stressful; instead maybe I should focus on "good-enough" parenting. I'm not sure I like the sound of that- it makes me think of kids whose parents play with them for the obligatory 20 minutes at the end of the day and feed them just enough of the right combination of foods. I do think changing my approach would be helpful- instead of worrying about Jack's separation anxiety, I should be thinking about the fact that he gets to see mom and dad equally throughout the week, and though rarely are the three of us together, it does occassionally happen.
The little man has been talking more and more. He grabbed an empty Eggo box out of the garbage (the recycling garbabe- all cardboard. Don't worry, my "good enough" parenting doesn't include leaving dangerous garbage within easy reach- some garbage, maybe). He exclaimed, "waffles!" He can now say 'yes' when prompted, but mostly chooses to stand up on his toes and grunt excitedly when he wants what is offered. Jack also says "cold" clear as (the cold) day. When we walk outside, he grabs his arm as if to show shivering and says "cold." Or, when he plays in the fridge too long (hello electricity bills). The other day he was actually reading from his picture book- it was one of those everyday things that seems like a miracle when your own child does it. Jack likes to sit in the big rocking chair in his room and look through his books; one of his favorites is a picture ABC book. He opened the opening pages (with a sampling of objects) pointed to the car and said "car." He then pointed to the books and said "books." Then he turned to the "A" page, pointed to the apples and said, "apple." I was stunned. Of course, I just nodded along, not making too big of a deal out of it because I knew that, true to form, he would do this trick once and then put it away for a few weeks (like everything).
The hitting has become less frequent, thank God. Two weeks ago I had a glimpse into Jack's teenage years- you know, those years when I'm not too sure that parents actually like their children. Driving home from one of my afternoon classes, I realized that I was going to pick up a small person who would no doubt be cranky and slap me. And, I have no choice but to deal with it in some way. For now, at least, I've genuinely enjoyed hanging out with him. I've even had those rare overwhelming feelings of "you're soooo cute," kissing him way too many times on the cheek. Gush. Gush.
Lately, Jack's been adding his crying routine at the end of the day. Yes, he gets upset when we leave Auntie's. He initially waves good-bye to everyone, but by the time we're out the door, he starts to get upset. I ask him if he wants to go home and he shakes his Ed, "no." I don't know- maybe he's just getting used to being in one place and hates change. Boy, I can relate. I crave a secure schedule, too, babe. I think we gave that up when we moved to Boston. Someone recently told me that maybe striving to be the perfect parent is too stressful; instead maybe I should focus on "good-enough" parenting. I'm not sure I like the sound of that- it makes me think of kids whose parents play with them for the obligatory 20 minutes at the end of the day and feed them just enough of the right combination of foods. I do think changing my approach would be helpful- instead of worrying about Jack's separation anxiety, I should be thinking about the fact that he gets to see mom and dad equally throughout the week, and though rarely are the three of us together, it does occassionally happen.
The little man has been talking more and more. He grabbed an empty Eggo box out of the garbage (the recycling garbabe- all cardboard. Don't worry, my "good enough" parenting doesn't include leaving dangerous garbage within easy reach- some garbage, maybe). He exclaimed, "waffles!" He can now say 'yes' when prompted, but mostly chooses to stand up on his toes and grunt excitedly when he wants what is offered. Jack also says "cold" clear as (the cold) day. When we walk outside, he grabs his arm as if to show shivering and says "cold." Or, when he plays in the fridge too long (hello electricity bills). The other day he was actually reading from his picture book- it was one of those everyday things that seems like a miracle when your own child does it. Jack likes to sit in the big rocking chair in his room and look through his books; one of his favorites is a picture ABC book. He opened the opening pages (with a sampling of objects) pointed to the car and said "car." He then pointed to the books and said "books." Then he turned to the "A" page, pointed to the apples and said, "apple." I was stunned. Of course, I just nodded along, not making too big of a deal out of it because I knew that, true to form, he would do this trick once and then put it away for a few weeks (like everything).
The hitting has become less frequent, thank God. Two weeks ago I had a glimpse into Jack's teenage years- you know, those years when I'm not too sure that parents actually like their children. Driving home from one of my afternoon classes, I realized that I was going to pick up a small person who would no doubt be cranky and slap me. And, I have no choice but to deal with it in some way. For now, at least, I've genuinely enjoyed hanging out with him. I've even had those rare overwhelming feelings of "you're soooo cute," kissing him way too many times on the cheek. Gush. Gush.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Oh, Baby
When we were at my mom's this last Christmas, Jack spent an entire evening taking care of one of my niece's Cabbage Patch Dolls: picking it up, rocking it, patting it on the back, putting it to bed and telling us to "shhhh." It was adorable. I meant to get one of the cabbage patch babies when we got back to Boston, but Jack wasn't interested in babies. But, lately, Jack has been signing "more" whenever we see a baby or read about a baby. Apparently, he wants a baby. And, since we aren't about to produce another baby, Jack and I went to Toys R Us today and picked out a baby doll. We got one that came with a little car seat holder- and I picked up the stroller that goes with it.
When we got home, he was VERY interested in the stroller. As soon as I got it set up, he threw baby to the side (head first, mind you), and pushed the stroller all over the house. And, baby wasn't allowed in- only his puppy. Mmm... not sure what this means. Maybe he didn't want the baby afterall - maybe he just misses his friends at day care because he's been home sick. Who knows. I'm just glad that the baby and stroller was under $20.
Jack's sleeping now (thank goodness - the phelgm is on its way out). Baby's on the floor in his baby carriage. Puppy is sleeping next to Jack and the stroller is parked next to his mail carrier. I must admit, I hoped to "play" with baby quite a bit more (and not so much interested in pushing a stroller, that's way too short for me, all around). Maybe we do need another baby (girl, girl, girl). Maybe not (yet).
When we got home, he was VERY interested in the stroller. As soon as I got it set up, he threw baby to the side (head first, mind you), and pushed the stroller all over the house. And, baby wasn't allowed in- only his puppy. Mmm... not sure what this means. Maybe he didn't want the baby afterall - maybe he just misses his friends at day care because he's been home sick. Who knows. I'm just glad that the baby and stroller was under $20.
Jack's sleeping now (thank goodness - the phelgm is on its way out). Baby's on the floor in his baby carriage. Puppy is sleeping next to Jack and the stroller is parked next to his mail carrier. I must admit, I hoped to "play" with baby quite a bit more (and not so much interested in pushing a stroller, that's way too short for me, all around). Maybe we do need another baby (girl, girl, girl). Maybe not (yet).
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Wish the germs would freeze and die
Jack's picked up his 28th cold of the season- and it's a doozy. He's coughing and sneezing 2 full tablespoons of snot every 5 minutes (you think I'm kidding, I'm not). I feel so bad for him. Doc said it's just a cold (duh). We just put him down loaded full of fever and snot reducing meds. Day care lady thinks the weather's to blame; it's too warm for the germs; they just hang around. I'll trade freezing winds for stuffed up Jack anyday.
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