Life According to William: Mom Is Big, He Has Somalia, and Our Old House is Better

One day after I had A W walked into my room while I was changing... His eyes widened and he froze: "Mom, you're big!" 

I cringed. He probably thought that I would have the baby and then just be normal again. So, I explained it took time. Then I explained that he shouldn't say those things to people because it can hurt feelings and it's complicated.  But I told him that I appreciated his honesty.

Just to never repeat anything like that to anyone again.

-

The other day B  and A had diarrhea. It was gross. Matt and I were openly talking about it, wondering what it was from... A touch of the flu? Some bad food?

A little while later I hear a little voice from the bathroom... "Mom, I had a big poop. Do I have Siberia?"

-

W constantly asks whether we can move back to our old house, but keep this one so he can still use the swing set. He insists that he doesn't care that it was small and there were three kids sharing limited space. It was tight. But none of that matters to a five year old.

This post was inspired by the novel Dad Is Fat by comedian Jim Gaffigan who riffs on his adventures co-parenting 5 kids in a two bedroom Manhattan apartment. I also wrote a post about a conversation that this book provoked on Chicago Parent.

Join From Left to Write on April 22 we discuss Dad Is Fat. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

What's Wrong With You?!?!

"What's wrong with you?" I hate that phrase. HATE. IT.

Yet, I hear myself say it to the kids and I want to slap myself. It hurts my heart when I say it and all I can think is: "Shit. Why did I say that?!?!" Matt says it, too. I don't know who started it, but it's the worst thing ever.

I try to be aware of the things that come out of my mouth when it comes to the kids. I constantly worry about the little things that will get lodged in the pockets of their brains and become memories. I worry that the bad things could outweigh the good. I know that words count so much more than actions. I can still remember things adult said to me that stung when I younger. So, I try so hard to remind them of how good they are, how beautiful and loved and smart they are every chance I get. I cover them hugs and kisses. But it doesn't erase those times I scream "What is wrong with you?!?!"

When they throw a tantrum or knock something over or just will not put on their shoes when we have to go. When they won't get in the car seat or flip over the laundry basket I just folded. What's wrong with them? They're kids.

They might not be scarred by it, but I am. I never want them to feel that there is anything wrong WITH them. Something might be wrong in general. They might feel sick or sad or bored or lost a toy. But that is a different question and that's not what I'm asking, but should be.

Really, the better question is what's wrong with me... And the answer is I'm stressed, tired, distracted, overwhelmed, running late, not paying attention enough to intervene, and dealing with a million other emotions and distractions that run through my head every day.

So, from here, let's consider it deleted. Today, September 19, 2013, I banish that phrase from my house. How about you join me?

What phrases do you say that you wish you could erase from your vocabulary?

A controlling mother, a missing daughter, and a family who is desperate for love. This post was inspired by the the psychological thriller Mother, Mother by Zoren Zailckas. Join From Left to Write on September 19 as we discuss Mother, Mother.  As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Moments That Didn't Matter Until I Read "Raising My Rainbow"

We have a specific type of sippy cup that we use in our house. It is the only brand that doesn't spill and doesn't have any parts other than a lid and a cup. Stores are always running low and the last time I went to Target they only had the Cinderella cups. None of the Lightning McQueens. None of the Toy Story guys. Just Cinderella. With pink tops. I had two boys at the time. I stared for a moment. Picked them up, put them back, picked them back up again and turned it around in my hands.

Then I said to myself: Who cares? And threw them in my cart. No one seemed to notice. My boys still use them.

-----

W loves his super heroes. And he has been spoiled by almost everyone, so has the large action figures. The other day I asked him which of the super hero dolls he had. He stared at my blankly... "Mom, they're not dolls."

"Oh, sorry, they're super heroes."

"They're action figures. Girls have dolls, mom."

"It's ok. Boys can play with dolls if they want to, you know."

"Girls play with dolls, mom."

"Plenty of girls like super heroes. That's what's great about being a kid, you can play with whatever you want."

"And you can't when you're old?" he asked.

-----

W has always been physically timid, doesn't really care about sports, still struggles when it comes to catching, throwing, kicking. I don't care.

B is naturally agile and quick. He was born coordinated and ready to pick up sports. He's fearless and determined. He's drawn to watching older boys play baseball or riding bikes. People always remark that he's "all boy." It's supposed to be a compliment. But, what's the opposite?

This post was inspired by the memoir Raising My Rainbow by Lori Duron as she shares her journey raising a gender creative son. Join From Left to Write on September 5 as we discuss Raising My Rainbow.  As a member, I received a copy of the book for review.

A Girl President

William received a sticker book about US presidents for his birthday. He is currently obsessed with sticker books, so loves talking about this new one. He and Matt were looking through it and this is what I heard from the other room...

W: "Why are they all guys?"
Matt: "Well, I bet you'll see a girl president in your life."
W: "Like Word Girl?"
Matt: "Yeah, Word Girl would be a good president. Or some other girl. But I have a feeling there will be one."

This is why I love my husband. He had no idea I could even hear him. If you know Matt this conversation isn't a surprise. Most days I wouldn't even think twice about it, but I'm getting tired of hearing about sexism, racism, and all the other BS-isms that invade our daily lives as ignorant people get more and more extreme.

Election years bring out the worst in people. But, sometimes they also remind you why you respect other people and why you're so happy you married them.

My Magic Big Brother Moment

A big thanks to Disney Baby for sponsoring this post and the Disney Baby “Little Character” Contest!

Parenthood includes an incredible amount of "a-ha" moments. One of my favorite moments was when I caught W singing to his new baby brother who was hanging out in his swing. I could hear him softly and sweetly singing a made up song: "You're so cute, Look at those little feet. I love you. You're my brother. What a sweet baby."

I walked into the living room, sat down next to him and rubbed his back, getting ready to tell him how proud I was of him, that he was such a wonderful older brother... Until he finished his song with "I don't love you. Go away" followed by a sideways smile as he glanced to see my reaction.

I laughed, realizing my attention-loving son was figuring out how to be a big brother while still keeping the spotlight on him and using his incredible sense of humor to do so. Little did I know this would be the moment that seems to best define their relationship still. My boys are sweet together. There is so much love there, but W always looks for his next opportunity to get a laugh and maintains an air that he is being a little put out by this new kid.

When you're preparing to add a sibling to your family, it's impossible to comprehend that you'll love the next one as much or share your attention and affection. You can imagine that your children will love each other and develop a great relationship, but it doesn't seem real until you're faced with it. That was the first moment that I experienced what it was like to be the mother of siblings. And I'll never forget it.

That's one of those things that I love... When you think back on life moments it's often the small moments that become the most memorable. I remember building up the moment that W would walk into the hospital to meet his baby brother. I had this fantasy of how it was going to go, but it was hardly memorable. W was more interested in the "Big Brother Gift" we had for him and seemed overwhelmed and confused. It wasn't until we'd been home for a few days, things quieted down, and we started to settle in that real moments were possible.

What is your magic moment as a mom of an infant?  Share your magic moments and vote for your favorite sweet baby in the “Disney Baby ‘Little Character’ Contest.” Proud parents shared photos of their babies for a chance to win $10,000 toward their baby's future education, so help them out with a vote! Voters will be also eligible for a chance to win the Voter’s Sweepstakes, a Beach Vacation at Fairmont Miramar Hotel & Bungalows. Voting closes this week, but you can vote every day to increase your chances of winning!

Disclosure: I was compensated for this post. All opinions are my own.

I hate HATE

A new word has entered W's vocabulary this week: Hate. As in...

"I hate you in this bathroom, Mom."
"I hate going to bed."
"I hate this."
"I hate everything."

It's been a fun week. The first time he used it was when I was trying to convince him to climb into the bath (I still can't lift him due to my appendectomy) and he told me that he hated me in the bathroom. Not that he hated me, just hated the fact that I was in the bathroom at that moment. Huh? He's too sensitive to say that he hates me, yet he's smart enough to know how to get a reaction.

I thought about ignoring it, but couldn't. So, I asked where he heard that word. I don't like to use it and hardly ever do. Matt is much more likely to say it about silly things like a piece of clothing, a cabinet door, a remote that isn't working, but he has really tried to curb it lately.

Then I asked whether he knew what it meant... "Yes, it means to really, really not like something." 

I know kids play with language, test their boundaries, push buttons... I really do. But, I can't allow him to make this part of his dialogue, teach it to other kids at preschool, and not realize that there are boundaries with language.

So, now I am taking a super hero figure each time he says he hates something. So far I have one and his response was: "I don't care. I don't even like that one, it's old."

This should go really well.

Do You Lie To Your Kids?

I just finished reading Up by Patricia Ellis Herr right before Easter weekend. Toward the end of the book she writes: "To sugarcoat reality is to lie, and I don't lie to my children."

I stopped and thought to myself... I don't believe in lying either. I believe in always being honest, sometimes to a fault. I believe in being straight-forward. But, you better believe I'll tell a lie to my kids. I mean, after all, I was about to pretend that a magical bunny hopped into our living room to hide plastic eggs that he had filled with stickers and jelly beans, as well as a basket full of all the wonderful things that W wanted. And less than four months ago a fat man in a red suit slid down our chimney to leave piles of gifts. That was also a lie. A lie I will happily tell my children until they stop believing me. It's fun and kids deserve fun.

There are lies that I feel obligated to tell my children, too. The lies that protect their little innocence for a little while longer, that keep them from worrying about something. After all, isn't it our job to protect our children? Yes, we can't shield them from the reality of the world. But, I'm going to make sure this world is a happy place for my kids as long as I can. I don't think that a three year old is necessarily ready to understand the complexity of people and the fine line between happiness and sorrow in this world. I'll have to explain all of this soon enough. He doesn't have to understand all of that now.

When we've been asked to go out for lunch with his friends after preschool, I've had to tell him we have to get home because our nanny has a special lunch planned. LIE. I'd rather not tell him that we can't join his friends because mommy is too busy with work and has to get back home. When we're listening to a popular song that he likes and I notice questionable lyrics, I get creative or follow his lead. So, I sang right along when he started singing Maroon 5's "Moves Like Jagger" with the lyrics "I've gotta move my dragon."

Don't get me wrong... I try not to lie unnecessarily. I tell him exactly why he can't watch more tv or why he doesn't get candy. When he's had run-ins with his little friends at preschool, I've been as honest as I can about why friends can sometimes be mean and why it's important for him to not get too hurt by them. And over time I'm sure there are plenty of other conversations like this that I'll have when trying to help him understand why I try make the best decisions as his parent and give him the best advice I possibly can. Trust me, I don't have expectations of sending a wide-eyed, sheltered boy to first grade.

So, I guess you can call me a liar if you want. I'm not sugarcoating life, I'm making it a little sweeter for as long as I can. Kids have enough reality waiting for them around the corner.

Trish Herr's then five year old daughter Alex wanted to hike all 48 of New Hampshire's 4,000+ foot mountains. Would you let your five year old do the same? Join From Left to Write on April 12 as we discuss Up: A Mother and Daughter’s Peakbagging Adventure. As a member of From Left to Write, I received a copy of the book. All opinions are my own.

Is "Shut Up" A Bad Word?

Sunday morning W got up from having his breakfast and walked into the living room. I asked him to come back and wipe his face. He ignored me, so I repeated it again. And possibly again... I can't remember.

What I do remember is his response: "Just... shut up."

Matt and I both whipped around and snapped that it wasn't ok to say that to anyone. We asked where he heard it. He had a stunned look on his face and told us it was in Toy Story. We didn't send him to his room or punish him. Just told him it wasn't ok and he agreed not to use it again.

Then Monday night after work he announced that he had to go to the bathroom, so I rushed him there with B under my arm. I sat down with him and out of nowhere he whispered "Just... shut up" then looked up at me and smiled. I pretended that I didn't hear him, smiled and acted sweet, asked him to repeat himself. He clearly rethought it, but the good thing about 3 year-olds is they don't know better and usually do as they're asked. So, he repeated himself. And I put him in his room and told him that my feelings were hurt and he was using a mean word and it was never ok to say it.

He looked at me with those enormous eyes of his and promised he wouldn't do it again. And I have no choice but to believe him and move on.

But, now I'm so confused... Did I give the phrase more power by getting angry about it? If I had simply ignored him, would he have repeated it? Clearly he's playing with words and isn't a bad kid, but he needs to know his boundaries with words. How should "shut up" be handled?

Meal MacGyver: Whitefish With Tomato Basil Sauce and Arugula Salad

I made a meal plan this week and placed an order with Artizone, but totally went off schedule and left work tonight without a plan. I was supposed to go to a food fun event and planned for a crock pot meal for Matt and W, but I skipped the event with the sick kiddos and skipped the crock pot, too. I started to think it would be a mac & cheese kind of night.

Instead I spent my train ride home from work considering what I could make for dinner. I envisioned my kitchen cabinets and actually threw together a really awesome meal.

First, I chopped an onion and sauteed it in a good amount of olive oil. I added a few cloves of finely chopped garlic and let it cook down for a while to get golden and soft. I added two cans of diced tomatoes, a really heavy pour of wine (1+ cup), salt & pepper, and let it cook on high, stirring often. I turned it down once it started to thicken and let it simmer.

While the tomatoes cooked, I rinsed and dried the whitefish, seasoned it with salt & pepper, and added to a hot pan with olive oil and a bit of butter and cooked for a few minutes on each side. Before flipping over the fish I squeezed half of a lemon over it.

I chopped up a handful of fresh basil and stirred into the tomato mixture, which was very thick by this time. I plated the whitefish and spooned the tomato sauce over it.

For the arugula salad, I simply tossed it with the juice of the other half of the lemon, olive oil, and salt. Then I drizzled over some 30-year aged balsamic vinegar, which makes everything heavenly.

This was an unexpected awesome meal. The highlight by far was the tomato sauce. I think I could use the sauce for anything... pizza, pasta, bruschetta...

Ever the critic, W and I discussed:

W: "Sometimes I don't like it when you make me try everything."

Me: "Do you not like this?"

W: "No, this is good."

Me: "What's your favorite part?"

W: "The tomatoes. It reminds me of salsa!"

And there you have it. Another reminder that forcing myself to take a moment to put together a homemade, fresh meal is worth the time -- Even when you're throwing something together and working without a recipe.

Have you pulled a Meal MacGyver lately?

My Kid Deserves A Lunch Date - And So Do I

Oh, the life of a full-time working mom. Each day has you questioning your situation, doesn't it?

As I have said many, many times: I love my job. I work with smart people for an excellent cause and my job allows me to do things I really enjoy for the most part. I work from home two days a week to avoid the two hours I spend commuting and am encouraged to have a good work/life balance by my boss. I have a pretty great situation for a working mom, right?

One of the bonuses of working from home a couple of days a week is that if I'm able to get away and need a little fresh air I get to pick W up from preschool during my lunch hour. I have loved this, because it allows me to know the other moms, his teachers, and the kids in his class. (Surprisingly, just because I'm a "Room Parent" doesn't mean I have much interaction with any of them.)

For the last couple of weeks some of W's little pals have been getting together after school on Fridays to have lunch. When they ask if I want to come along, I instantly think of all the things I have to get done and thank them for the offer before heading home. (This mentality, my friends, is also why I take a lunch about three times each month.)

Yesterday I noticed that three of the moms I enjoy were gathered together, wearing make up and real clothes... Which meant another lunch date. They asked and I declined. They nicely offered to take W with them, but I thought it would be best to bring him home since my nanny is the only person who can get him to nap. (See, they're nice!) I chatted with another mom and in that time W's little friend asked him if he was going to play at a specific food court/play area shaped like a tree house... Up until this time I've been able to keep him from hearing the conversations where I refuse to let him lunch with his pals.

"Mom, can we go to the tree house?" he asked doing his little "gonna-wet-my-pants" excitement dance.

Shit. Now I have to break his heart. And instead of answering I just pretended that I didn't hear him. (Reason #1 that I am MOM OF THE YEAR.)


"I really want to go play at that tree house." Pulling on my jacket.


"Mom? Mommy? Mommmmmmm!!!!"

"No, I'm sorry, we can't go. It's just not going to work today, buddy." I try not to mention "work" as a reason why we can't do things (even though it tends to be the #1 reason).


"WE CAN! Come on! Let's go!"

"Maybe next time, OK?" Pitiful, right? He looked sad. He knew that three of his favorite little buddies were off to have lunch together and he had the mean mom who said no.

"OK, tell you what, I'll stop and get you a California roll for lunch instead. Sound good?"

So, yup, I bribed him... with sushi. And it worked.

As we exited the school he started running back and forth along the front walkway, I could tell he was playful and had plenty more energy to work out, so I let him run for a few minutes until he fell... hard. He usually pops right back up after a call, but this time he just laid face down on the cold, wet pavement and cried while I walked over to him. Talk about adding injury to insult. I'm the worst mom.

I pulled out my go-to parenting method that I refer to as "if they cry, make them laugh" (trademark pending) and dazzled him with my offer to lick his tongue (whatever works, people).

I hurried to get his California roll, grabbing freshly baked cookies for the fall and once I got home I holed up in my office in the basement, nestled behind the furnace. And then I felt bad. I felt terrible.

That kid deserved to have lunch with his friends. And I deserved to have lunch with these cool moms who seem to want to be friends. I could have spared an hour, but my brain just doesn't work that way. I think about work first and how much I can get done in that time. So, next time, I will take them up on it. And I will probably put on some mascara and do something about the bags under my eyes, too.

Today I Stayed Home & In The Moment

We didn't have child care today, so I stayed home from work. I made a decision when I was in the shower this morning to try to spend the day focusing on the boys and cut out the noise that usually overwhelms my day.

It was nothing special. I dropped W off at preschool and then went to a meeting with other moms for the preschool's "fun-raiser." I picked him up, brought them home for lunch, played, walked to the park, played more, made dinner, and hung out. I didn't worry about laundry. I checked my email a few times and took one call for work, but otherwise I tried to live in the moment. I didn't check Facebook or Twitter all day. Honestly, I forgot about them. I didn't read a blog or the news. I realized that my cell phone was in the other room for a good 4 hours before I went hunting for it.

I lived in the moment with the two of them and just enjoyed a normal day. I don't ever do this. If I stay home I usually plan a play date or take W out for lunch or run a million errands. I never have a day close to what I did today. I got on the floor and played with them without running out to check on something. I always have something to check or get done really quickly. Always. I didn't check my phone or feel like I was wasting valuable that could have been spent crossing things off my to-do list.

I'm not saying you have to stay home with your kids, but that's what worked for me today. And I knew it made a difference for them, too. For the first time ever, W turned to B and said: "She's MY mommy." Apparently, I became worth fighting over. I'm not encouraging jealous behavior, but I'd be lying if it didn't make me smile.

Handmade Thank You Cards by W

Like most kids W loves to color and in the last few months he's really started to actually draw, which is so fun. I like having him create thank you cards, because they're cute and who doesn't love a cute kid drawing for their fridge?!?!

These are W's Christmas thank you cards. I wrote "Thank You" on note cards and then left it up to him, asking what he drew each time... Let's just say I would love to spend a few minutes in this kid's head:

"Dr. Octopus"

"Ironman Fighting A Bad Guy"

"Octopus" (as opposed to his friend Dr. Octopus)

"Oogly Monster"

"Portrait of B"

"Portrait of W"

"Supermans's Car"

"Whale"

"T-Rex Eating a Lemon"

I really love "T-Rex Eating a Lemon" and his self portrait.

Which one is your favorite?

Good Deeds 2012 Week 4: Valentine's Cards For Nursing Home

Good Deed: Made Valentine's Day cards for a local nursing home.

I didn't think of this one on my own, but I love it. Our preschool asked that each kid make cards that will be delivered to a local nursing home for Valentine's Day. Sweet, right?

I love that this is something you can do anytime of year and is a great way to get the kids involved. I tried to explain why we were making the cards, which went something like this:

Me: "Sometimes when people get old they go and live in a place with other old people and people who take care of them."

W: "Am I old?"

Me: "No."

W: "Why do people have to take care of them? Can they go home?"

Me: "Because sometimes old people get sick and that becomes their home. Do you remember seeing Great Grandpa at the place he lives? It's like that."

W: "Do they die?"

Me: (...LONG pause...) "How about we get started on those cards???"

Wow, explaining nursing homes to kids is not easy. And he's been asking about the D-I-E word a lot these days. Thankfully making cards was easy and really fun!

I kept W's interest long enough to make two cards. I'm hoping he'll make a few more with me before the week is over.

What was your good deed this week? Link it up here or leave a comment!

Thankful

I asked W what he was thankful for without giving him the definition of thankful. I wasn't sure what he was going to say, but I'm really glad I hit record:

While I may not need to explain the word "thankful" to W, we might want to clear up his confusion on the definition of question vs. answer.

Happy Thanksgiving!

What Do You Say to a Stranger? NO WAY! Unless They Have Toys...

At W's three year appointment our pediatrician mentioned that we should start talking to him about stranger safety. He recommended a book and video we could find at our local library that would be helpful. But, in my normal way, I decided to wing it the other day. We were sitting and coloring and I figured no better time than the present, right?

We were talking about going out for dinner that night and W wanted to go to a particular sushi place that makes me uncomfortable. The reason it makes me uncomfortable is a whole other post of its own, but let's just say the woman who owns the place does not have boundaries with babies and I had to wrestle B from her. I mentioned it to Matt on the phone, saying something along the lines of, "If that lady tries to take B outside again (Note: Oh, yes, she did.), I'm not going to be as nice. I want to go there, but I don't want her taking him." We agreed to still go to the restaurant, but be more stern if the baby grabbing started again. And I hung up and looked at W.

W: "I don't want that mean lady to take B ever, ever again!"

Me: "Well, she's not mean, but she just wanted to hold him and show him to some of her friends."

W: "I don't love her!"

Me: "You don't have to love her, but you do have to be nice. But, if she takes B you can tell her NO." (Yes, I was ABSOLUTELY planting this seed in hopes he would help me out.)

W: "But, she's a mean lady. Will she take me?"

Me: "No.... But, if someone does try to take you, what do you say?"

W: Blank stare.

Me: "You know, if someone says, 'Little boy, come with me, I have some candy...' What do you say?"

W: Blank stare.

Me: "You say, 'No, I don't know you!;"

W: "No way! Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!"

Me: "OK, so if someone says, 'Little boy, I have candy for you. Come with me.' What do you say?"

W: "No way!"

Me: "'Little boy, I have stickers for you....' What do you say?"

W: "No way!"

Me: "Little boy, I have toys for you. Come with me."

W: Long pause. "Well, I would go get the toys, because then I would have more and more and more toys and then I'd have all the toys in the world."

OK, so we may need a little work on the whole stranger danger thing. Apparently personal safety takes a back seat to toys.

What is a Crescent Moon?

Last night we went for a walk and I realized there is something I am totally clueless about... Science and astronomy.

William: "Look at the moon!"

Me: "Yup. That's a crescent moon."

William: "What is a crescent moon?"

Me: "Ummm...."

We continue to walk. I try to remember everything I can about science.

Matt: "Actually, buddy, it's the shadow of the Earth that makes it look like that."

Me: "Wait, is that for real?"

Matt: "Yes. Tell me you knew that."

Me: "Nope. I thought it was due to cloud cover."

True story. And I'm ok with it.

When to Explain 9/11 to Your Toddler?

We've been avoiding 9/11 coverage all week. W still talks about "those poor people who lost all their things" in the tsunami. He asked question after question when it happened. We tried to answer them as honestly as possible. I can't imagine doing that with 9/11. There is a very big difference between a natural disaster and terrorism.

A three year old has no ability to understand something this horrific. And a parent of a toddler has no place creating that kind of fear in their children. I believe in being honest with him about everything I can. But all in due time... None of us are ready for this conversation yet.

It was nice to have to avoid it this year, because it meant that we didn't get sucked into the media coverage and could choose to think about it in our own ways. Now that we have kids, it means something entirely different. Now I think of the moms and dads who were killed, the scared children coming home to a frantic parent. And the fear. I can't imagine experiencing that kind of fear myself or seeing it in my child's eyes.

On 9/11 I was in Iowa City visiting my sister. I had just graduated, but went back to see her and some friends. I was supposed to leave on Monday, but stayed longer. I was waiting tables and looking for a job at the time, trying to decide where to go and what to do with my life. Iowa City was still home to me and my sister was living in the house I had lived in for two years.

My mom called and woke us up to tell us that something was happening in New York and we needed to turn on the tv. We turned on The Today Show minutes before the second tower was hit. My plan was to move to New York at the time and most of my resumes had been sent to publishing companies there, yet it seemed so far away that morning.

My sister and I got into an argument about something I can't even remember, as we tend to do under any amount of stress. I packed up my stuff and left her house in a huff. She kept telling me that given the current events, I should stay. But, I just wanted to go. It was such a weird time - Iowa City had been my home for four years and I missed it terribly, but I just wanted to get out of there. In my mind I knew that it was safer than heading back to Chicago. The more rural, the better, but I couldn't sit still. So, I got in my car, turned on NPR, and started the drive home.

Even in the middle of corn fields, the silence was heavy. The normal busy campus was dead, as everyone was either sleeping or glued to their televisions. Driving down the highway was more of the same. There were few cars on the road and those that were drove with a remarkable amount of care, minding the speed limit, hands at ten and two. I remember making eye contact with a guy driving next to me and having this strange connection, knowing we were both flying solo in complete peace while there was so much chaos.

I would listen to the radio for a bit, then drive in silence, then try some music, but always get pulled back to NPR to try to make sense of what was going on. I remember the drive went quickly.

I don't remember much else about the following days, except the night I was laying in bed at my parents house and I heard a plane fly overhead for the first time since 9/11. It woke me up with a panic. All my life I was used to the constant sound of planes overhead, having grown up directly under the flight pattern to O'Hare. It was a sound I had never even paid attention to, but the silence that followed 9/11 gave it an incredible amount of power.

On 9/11 Matt was in grad school in Vancouver. An American in Canada on 9/11. He received apologies from Canadians, went to the ocean and just sat, feeling the same heavy silence. There were others there sitting as well, staring out at the ocean. Possibly Americans, taking a moment to feel closer to home. He saw it as an outsider without the flag waving being shoved down his throat and  I think his version and perspective might be better. So, maybe his tale will be the one we choose to share.

I don't know how to explain 9/11 to a child. But I'm thankful I have at least another year to figure it out. I read somewhere that we are all victims of 9/11. I'm not going to pretend that I am nearly as affected by anyone who was there or lost a loved one. But, I can say that every generation of parents has had their own 9/11 to discuss with their children.

This was just seems beyond what I can comprehend right now.

Welcome to Preschool: First Day

Today was W's first day of preschool. Translation: He went to class with seven other kids for an hour while the moms sat in the corner and whispered to each other. For all the fanfare (new outfit, backpack, lots of talking it up), it wasn't that big of a deal.

He loved it. I knew he would. I had to keep grabbing his hand to keep him from running away from me as soon as we entered the school. I was so very happy to have him act that way.

Last week he went on an anti-preschool rant:

"I don't want to go to preschool," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't want to listen to the coach's words."

"You'll have a teacher, not a coach, and I'm sure you'll get to talk, too."

"I don't want to be on a school bus."

"You're not taking a bus. I'll drive you."

"I don't want another William in my class."

"Wellll, you better get used to it, kid. You have a pretty common name. This will not be the last time. But, maybe his name will be Will or Bill or Billy the Kid."

William met William, another cute little boy with unruly, dark hair. Despite looking totally confused when the teachers sang a song about the other William, W did a great job. He played and chatted and got into cabinets he wasn't supposed  to.

But, there is one thing he refused to do...  Cooperate for pictures. These are the best shots I could get:

How long will she chase me with that camera?

OK, so if I pretend she isn't here, what are the chances she'll go away?

I'm Not Going to Tell You a Story

For the From Left to Write Book Club I read The Costume Trunk by Bob Fuller, which inspired this post.

We read with W a lot. It's my favorite way to play with him. I'm not very imaginative in the way he and Matt are, so reading is our best way to connect. (Honestly, once when playing he asked me: "Do you know how to play trucks?" The answer: "NO.")

I don't remember being a very imaginative kid. Honestly, I preferred reading then as well, so I spent a lot of time letting the words be my imagination. In The Costume Trunk, Courtney and her friends discover the magical world of Paddywhack Lane where all they need is their imagination to have fun. After reading this book to W, I decided it might be fun to see what he thought about the experience the characters in the book had and learn a little more about what's going on in his little head.

Here is our interview:

Q: If you could dress up in a costume, what would you dress up as?

A: A bug. Mom, what are you doing on the computer?

Q: What adventure would you like to go on?

A: Uhhh, this one. Tell me some more things.

Q: What would you do if you could do anything you wanted to?

A: I would slide down a slide. Ummm, I would play games.

Q: What friends would you bring with you?

A: You.

Q: Who else?

A: Tina and Toto. (note: his aunt and uncle)

Q: Does this sound like a good way to celebrate your birthday next month?

A: Yeah!

Q: Do you want a tree house?

A: Yeah!

Q: What would you do with a tree house?

A: I would live in it.

Q: What would be your best day ever?

A: This one.

Q: What's your favorite thing to play?

A: Puzzles.

Q: Tell me a story.

A: When days break, you're don't and you walk. I would do shnooder and doodoodoo! I'm not going to tell you a stoooory... Yeah! I'm not going to tell anybody stories. Mom, that song was called I'm Not Going To Tell You A Story. (note: this all was sung to me)

Disclosure: As a member of From Left to Write book club, I received a complimentary copy of this book for review. All opinions are my own. Visit From Left to Write to read how other bloggers were inspired by this book.

Big Brother Song

The hardest part of having a second child is your first child. Suddenly you realize just how much they've grown and your expectations for them seem a little unfair. How are they supposed to share the spotlight overnight?

Anyone who knows W knew that this transition would be tough for him... He's not only our first child, he's my parents first grandchild, my sisters's first nephew, my aunt and uncles first great-nephew, my cousins's first second cousin, and my grandpa's first great grandchild. You know what I'm saying, right? He's everyone's first. So, he gets a ton of attention and is a lover of the spotlight.

He's clearly learned how to read his audience and is quite possibly the funniest person I have ever met. For a two year-old, he has an uncanny sense of humor and timing. I know all kids are funny, but he has an exceptional ability to make us laugh.

The other day he was leaning over B in the swing and, as he likes to do, he was making up a little song that went something like this:

You're so cute, Look at those little feet. I love you. You're my brother. What a sweet baby.

I rubbed his back and thought, "Wow, what a great big brother! He's really embracing this... What a sweet moment."

And then he wraps up his song with...

I don't love you. Go away.

He glanced up at me with a sideways smile, waiting for my reaction. I couldn't help but laugh.

OK, so maybe we're almost there.

*Photo courtesy of our neighbor, Evan