All is well, or nearly so, with the Zugs. Thomas is getting over his bout of bronchialitis, Ruthie is so far staying healthy, and most importantly… daddy is home again. The computer has been turned off, for the most part, to focus on these things.
In other news, we had accidental success this week in potty training Ruthie through the night. Though she is potty trained through the day and even through her naps, I have hesitated to attempt all night success since she usually ends up in our bed in the wee hours of the morning… and MY mattress does not have a plastic covering over it. However, the other night we must have forgotten to put her pull-up on because we met on the stairs at midnight as I was heading up to bed.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘I have to go potty.’
‘You don’t have a pull-up on?’
‘No.’
And she continued past me, still half asleep.
So I followed her down into the bathroom and talked about what a big girl she was for sleeping in her underpants, then I carried her back up stairs and tucked her into bed.
The next night we put her to bed in her underpants again, and when I went up to bed around midnight I woke her up and carried her down to the bathroom. She peed, I tucked her in again, and she woke up in the morning with dry jammies.
So cross my fingers: I may be done with one set of diapers!
The waiting room was packed at seven in the evening, but not to worry: when you tell the triage nurse you have a two year old experiencing shortness of breath you get bumped to the head of the line. Quickly. They sent someone out within ten minutes to look at Thomas in the waiting room, and when she saw his chest retracting (pulling in tight at every breath so his ribs popped out) she said, ‘Yup, I need to see him. Bring him back.’
He was an amazing little guy, letting the nurse put a ‘sticker’ on his toe to read his oxygen level, sitting quietly as she checked his heart rate, and not even flinching when he had his temperature read rectally. He sat patiently in his stroller while I held a wand in his face that blew Albuterol up his nose – three rounds of it – and then tolerated a large plastic mask when the nurse finally found one. The nurse warned me ahead of time that kids don’t like nebulizer treatments, and that he’ll probably fuss with all that steam in his face. But no. He sat there sucking his thumb. Who DOES this? I know adults who aren’t that compliant.
Ruthie was a big girl. She was in charge of the Spiderman bag and charming all the staff. In her cuteness she managed to score stickers, graham crackers, teddy bears, paper and crayons, and special trips to help the nurses get supplies. She never once darted out the door or pushed big red buttons or pulled on emergency cords. She danced, she colored, she sang songs, she twirled, she said hello to sick and injured people as they were wheeled past our room… she was the poster child for Pleasantness.
Honestly, and I know this may sound crazy, but I think I may have had more fun in the emergency room than if we’d been at home all alone.
Our trip to the San Jose area couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve spent the last couple months reorganizing and reprioritizing my focus as a mother and household manager, trying to correct the part of my brain that sometimes finds it easier to focus on the latter and see the former as a distraction. I want to be present with my children. I want to enjoy them. My goal in spending ten days apart from the household duties of cleaning, laundry, and other such necessities was to develop good habits in spending time with my children.
I believe I did well in accomplishing what I set out to do. We played hide and seek. The tickle monster attacked. We went to parks and visited attractions. We left the hotel every day. We talked. And we didn’t watch t.v. Even in the midst of being away from the comforts of home, I only used the morning PBS programs to occupy Ruthie while I showered. We kept busy, and I remained focused on them until they were sleeping.
For me the pinnacle came on Monday when we visited Santa Cruz, about an hour from our hotel. We were nearly alone on a wide open beach, running around and digging in the sand with nothing but our fingers and some empty coffee cups. I stretched myself, and offered Ruthie some freedom from my control, and I watched her revel in a world with few boundaries. The beach was so empty, so expansive, and the ocean before us was so never-ending, that my need to control every situation, every moment, every move seemed insignificant. I realized how rigid I had become, how inflexible. But that morning I was able to let my children run, and I practiced trusting them, and I patiently corrected them when they wandered too far, and I became their biggest fan once again.
It was the silence, and the time, and the space provided by this trip that allowed me to grow as a parent in this way – to remember that my job is much more than just keeping them fed and clothed, but to also disciple and teach and model, and to sometimes play with them. I developed a taste for getting out, for exploring, for inspiring my children and giving them opportunities to run and jump and play – not that it couldn’t have happened in the absence of a vacation, amidst the everyday life I live, but it seems a trip to San Jose is how God chose to get through to me.
As we left the beach in Santa Cruz my kids immediately crashed into a coma, and I listened to the Garden State soundtrack. I love it for its mix. Many soundtracks have a schizophrenic feel to it, accommodating for love scenes and fight scenes and war scenes all within the same album. But the Garden State soundtrack has a vibe, and it’s a good vibe for a quiet ride home from the beach. When the song, Let Go, by Frou Frou began playing I immediately knew it was the soundtrack for the day at least, and maybe even for my overall struggle through anger and control.
You’ll know why when you hear it.
So, the video you are about to see is more than just a video scrapbook of a fun day. I had a vision for this project the moment I heard the song. It is a stone for me to carry, like the ones Much Afraid carried. It is a rock cairn to remember the path I have taken to get where I am now. It is an alter built to God, in praise of who he is, like the ones built by my spiritual forefathers in the desert.
On Sunday afternoon Bryan knocked off work about 2pm and we picked him up and headed straight to San Francisco to see the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a fun drive through the city and neighborhoods (I had to veer off into a neighborhood of row houses to find a bathroom!), and the bridge was breathtaking. The kids were great – especially considering that a long drive to look at a bridge is probably not all that exciting for them – and we showered Ruthie with positive reinforcement praise regarding what a fun time we had with her. After hiking around the viewing area of the bridge we navigated our way down to Pier 39 in San Francisco to wander around and find some dinner. After pushing the double stroller up and down a few steep hills we decided to reserve the bulk of our San Francisco touring for when the kids are older!
My kids don’t share a room at home, so sharing a room on this trip has been a novelty. I’ve spent the last eight nights and the last eight naps shushing and threatening and handing out discipline to get them to go to sleep. Today it was almost an hour before they fell asleep for their naps. I love how they giggle and play, but sometimes they just don’t get how tired they actually are, and for the last two nights Ruthie has actually ASKED to go to bed she was so tired.
Tonight after the kids went to bed Bryan and I got a little goofy (No, not THAT kind of goofy) – I was teasing him and flirting, and we were laughing at the American Idol contestants. Ruthie kept sticking her head into our room saying things like, ‘You’re waking me up,’ and ‘You’re being too noisy.’ The third time she stuck her head into our room she said in a terse whisper, ‘I told you to be quiet,’ and I had to bury my face in a pillow to hide my riotous laughter.
Today it is sunny and nearly 70 degrees, so we went to a huge park in San Jose with our friend, Larah. While there I had the opportunity to watch Ruthie pursue friends for the first time. She started out by playing around them, kind of on the sly, but they went away from her. When I came toward her to take a picture of her climbing, she totally blew me off and hovered near this group in their new location.
It was fascinating to watch my baby girl making such big girl bold moves, and my heart ached at the idea of her growing up. Also, she’s normally very shy around other kids at the playground near our house, so I was totally enthralled as I watched her creeping closer and closer to the group. She was motivated and determined and moved so cautiously, and I hoped they would include her.
She continued to hover over and around them for quite awhile, until she finally sat down in the sand next to them and began to build her own pile next to theirs. At one point she placed a stick at the top of their pile as a flag, and the one girl took it off, saying, “No!” Then Ruthie began to add sand to their pile as they were doing, and they seemed to let her do this. I was really impressed that she was playing WITH them, and not antagonizing them like she often does with her friends or her brother, by knocking piles down or otherwise spoiling their fun.
At one point she tried poking holes in the side of the pile with her stick, but the other kids told her to stop, and they brushed it smooth again. Two more times she tried adding poke-a-dots, but they wouldn’t have it.
In the midst of this observation I surprised myself: instead of being irritated that she was antagonizing them, I began to consider that maybe she was just trying to be creative and decorate the sand pile, and that maybe all those other kids were just really boring in their design strategy because all they wanted to do is just sit there and look at a normal looking pile of sand. And then I swelled with pride that my brave girl approached a group of unknown kids, pursued them despite their initial brush-off, and then tried to make the world a better place by adding stick-flags and poke-a-dots.
Traveling with children would be a lot more fun if one could teleport from Point A to Point B, because moving all these people is a lot of work (and I don’t even have a huge family)! But having traveled by air many times since we’ve had kids, we’re getting our system very finely tuned. I think the biggest challenge (next to the flight itself, I suppose) is getting from the baggage claim to the rental car. If only we could just push our crap down a hallway to a rental counter, that would be a dream. But any airport we’ve ever been to transports you to an offsite rental company by shuttle bus, and let me tell you how fun THAT is with two kids, a stroller, four carry-ons, one car seat, three suitcases, and two back packs.
The kids were amazingly good for the entire flight despite having started their day at 4am. As it turns out, the Polly Pockets were a better time distraction for Ruthie than watching movies on my laptop – she loves to take their clothes off and change their outfits all around. The only downside is the tiny tiny shoes (about the size of my pinkie fingernail) kept getting dropped on the floor, and they are VERY difficult to find. On the trip home Bryan plans to tell Ruthie that Polly Pockets like to go barefoot on airplanes.
Thomas was scared of the airplane. As we stood on the jetway about to step onto the plane, he literally dug his heals in and would not move forward. A successful boarding experience depended on each kid carrying his or her own backpack, so Bryan ended up carrying Thomas AND his car seat AND an armful of other crap. Thomas cried fearfully all the way down the center isle to row 18 and for the entire time it took to strap in his car seat. The 6am flight to San Jose is pretty much all business commuters, so I was feeling a little on the spot about my screaming kid. But after snuggling with me during the pre-flight process, he was fine. He clutched his blanket at played with his Hotwheels the entire flight.
By the time we landed, got our car, checked in to the hotel, and dropped Bryan off at work it was after 11, and I had been awake since 3am. I bought the kids a Happy Meal and settled them in to a nap, only they didn’t sleep. What the??? They’d been up since 4am and they wouldn’t nap? I almost went insane.
After only 45 minutes of quiet, during which I passed out on the living room couch, I heard Ruthie’s little voice at the bedroom door, ‘Can I be awake, now?’ I was in such a deep sleep that I actually felt heavy, and I couldn’t move my body, and my eyes wouldn’t open. I kept telling myself to wake up, but I couldn’t move, and she kept asking if she could be awake, and I was afraid of what chaos she would create if I didn’t wake up.
As I came out of my sleepy fog I recalled something Bryan said in the car on our way to the hotel: “I’m thinking of everything I would do differently next time.â€
While I was distracted on the phone yesterday, Ruthie put on her Christmas socks, tennis shoes, Thomas’ dinosaur costume (which is way too short), and her lady bug rain coat to go out and play in the snow. I give her a lot of leeway when it comes to dressing herself, but I drew the line here.
This morning, realizing that although all the schools are closed and time has stopped due to one inch of snow, Value Village thrift store employees defied this latest ‘act of God’ by showing up to work and smiling at me as I dropped in to pillage for snow gear. Proof that God still loves me despite my unkempt house lies in the fact that they had snow boots and snow suits in each of my kids’ sizes.
Boots, gloves, snow suits: $20.
Not embarrassed to be seen with children: priceless.
The weather has been crazy this winter – first two snow storms around Thanksgiving, then a major windstorm knocking out power for up to ten days at Christmas, and now more snow. My friend Gayle, who is a middle school teacher, said that before this latest snow storm the school year had already been extended through June 26th! She was joking about the possibility of having a 4th of July assembly, but at this rate it may not be so funny!
Ruthie and Thomas get really excited every time it snows, but playing in it requires many stops inside for me to warm up their hands because their lame mother (who grew up in Minnesota, by the way) didn’t buy any snow gear after the first TWO TIMES it snowed this year. So, I’ve learned my lesson – I’m buying mittens and boots tomorrow, so you can count on it never snowing again once I do that. Murphy’s law and all.
One rarity for this snow storm, though, is that today is a beautiful sunny day. And the snow is of the wetter variety, so it sticks to the tree branches and glistens like jewelry – and makes for great snow balls!
Following our romp in the snow last night, the kids hunkered down for some hot chocolate – a favorite treat. I’ve finally figured out the combination of not-too-hot water, a not-filled-too-full cup, and a flexi-straw all work best for optimal toddler and preschooler enjoyment. As we sipped, Ruthie remembered the last time it snowed when we walked to the restaurant for pizza, and she asked to watch the movie we made. I thought that was very cool, and it made me excited that all these technical tools and toys are becoming a part of her every day experience.
Here are the snow pictures, and here are the hot chocolate pictures.
Watching the Leung family’s video productions of Guinea Pig TV is inspiring to me as I think of more ways to engage Ruthie in creative projects, especially ones that involve technology. Ruthie loves to take pictures on our digital camera, so we bought her the Fischer Price digital camera for kids – one that can withstand a little beating. However, I have not taken her past the photo capture to the photo posting – she just takes a bunch of pictures, and often Thomas ends up deleting them because the big red ‘delete’ button is the most noteable button on the camera (a design flaw, in my opinion – what two-year-old WOULDN’T want to press a big red button?).
In my new daily routine I have set aside time in the mornings – before my slacker son wakes up – to do something creative or instructive with Ruthie to engage her in something other than Dora the Explorer. I think I’ll start with her photography – letting her take pictures, then immediately uploading them to the Zooomr account we opened for her waaaaaay back in October. Maybe it would be fun for her to create her own titles for each picture?
I got back from my trip to Portland last night after the kids were already in bed. Around 4:30 in the morning the creaking of our bedroom door woke me up and I heard the light padding of Ruthie’s footsteps across the carpet. I played dead, lying on my side with my back to the edge of the bed. I heard Ruthie evaluating the situation – Bryan’s snoring, the extra body in bed, unmoving. I heard her come along my side, and then felt her gentle yet steady hand press against my back, as if varifying that she wasn’t dreaming my existence in the bed, that her mama was really home. Then she pulled her hand away, padded out of the room, and closed the door behind her. Moments later I heard the click of her light switch, then silence.
I’m not sure I’ve had a full understanding of what a pillar I am to my children, but as Ruthie walked out of our room, satisfied in knowing that I was home, I began to get a clue.
The other day while I was making lunch, the kids were playing in the family room located in the basement. At one point I became alarmed at the quiet (as all mothers do), and snuck down the stairs to spy. At first I was pleased to observe Thomas and Ruthie pleasantly sharing a push toy they normally fight over, until I decided the concept was too absurd to be believable so I asked a subtle, probing question: ‘What are you guys doing?’
‘We’re playing with balls!’ Ruthie announced cheerfully.
‘Okaaaay…’ I said, still not feeling comfortable about the peace and harmony.
And then Ruthie threw him under the bus. Out of the blue, as I turned to go back upstairs, she said, ‘Thomas did it.’
Bingo. Something was up.
At that point Thomas lifted up the seat of the push toy to reveal their stash of ‘balls,’ which were not actually toy balls at all, but the balls from the Christmas tree. Nearly every. single. one, in fact.
So now our tree is ball-less (as far as the kids can reach, anyway) and I’m tired of fighting it. I am certainly no Martha Stewart, and it’s actually festive in a Griswold sort of way, so I think I’ll let it be.
