Laurie, Matt and myself are all seated at the kitchen table, with Ander in my lap playing with the small train cars on the table. It is 8 p.m.
“Laurie, I know something happened here today and I want you to tell me what it was,” Shane says. He is standing at the end of the table with his arms crossed.
A knowing silence fills the room. We all know the truth. How long will she play chicken this time?
“I got up and Matt came over and I made some breakfast,” Laurie says.
“And?”
She takes a bite of her cinnamon bagel and cream cheese. Another long pause.
“And Matt and I started making out and got carried away.” She tries to sound factual and indignant, but it comes off weak.
Another long pause.
“And? I’m waiting,” Shane says.
I chime in, “I’d like to remind you, Laurie, that when the conversations start this way, we already know the truth and we’re waiting for you to tell us.”
She repeats, “I already said it, Matt and I started making out and got carried away.”
“Which led to….” I prompt
“Sex.” She says, then smirks.
“It’s not funny Laurie, “ Shane says. “You know that I’m against having anyone here when we’re not home and this is the exact reason why. And Matt, you know this too because I told you no one was to be here when Cathy or I wasn’t home. In the last few weeks, you’ve had Justin over. And Chris. And Matt. Since you can’t be trusted, you need to give me your house key. You need to leave the house by 7:15 in the morning and you’re welcome to come home when I get home after 4 or 5.”
Laurie begins to dig in her pocket as I prompt Shane, “And this will continue for how long?”
“Two weeks.”
She tosses her key to the edge of the table where Shane is standing. He takes it and removes the house key as I say, “And then we’ll try this dance again,” and look at Laurie.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Slice of life 3/24/09 (Wednesday)
The house resonates with the pitch of Ander’s crying, “Mommy! Mommy!’ comes from his bedroom over and over again. I mentally review the moments before… we went through our regular routine of books and then bedtime, as well as the newly forming routine of Ander’s protests as we rock in the dark of his room. It goes something like this:
“Mommy, mommy, baby… baby.”
“Yes, Ander. That is your baby.”
“Nose,nose.” I can feel his arm move to his face.
“Yes Ander, that is your nose. It is time for night,night.”
“Noooooo. Noooooo night night.”
“Yes. Time for night night.” Repeat line above.
This particular evening, he sits up in my lap, protesting the rocking, protesting the lights off. Frustrated, he tries to hit me. At which point, I say, “Okay. No more rocking. Time for bed,” as I get up and place him in his crib. “Night, night,” I say and walk out. The crying has already begun before the “Night, night.” I hear him jumping up and down in his crib, his wails of protest growing louder as I close the door without looking back. I head to the kitchen to get as far away from the cries as possible, but still hear them plainly. I wonder if Shane will sleep through them.
A frustrated and angry “Ugghhhh!” comes from the bedroom a few minutes later.
He pulls the door open quickly, “Is he locked in his room or something?!”
“No. I’m trying to put him to bed, but he tried to hit me.”
“Oh.” He walks to Ander’s door, yanks it open, “Ander! Stop! No more crying.”
“No more,” says a quiet voice.
“That’s right. All done crying.”
“All done.” I hear him sniffle. Shane has gone in and is continuing to talk to Ander and soothe him as well as calm himself. A few minutes pass and he comes out. Ander is quiet… for about 3 minutes.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
I sigh.
“Mommy, mommy, baby… baby.”
“Yes, Ander. That is your baby.”
“Nose,nose.” I can feel his arm move to his face.
“Yes Ander, that is your nose. It is time for night,night.”
“Noooooo. Noooooo night night.”
“Yes. Time for night night.” Repeat line above.
This particular evening, he sits up in my lap, protesting the rocking, protesting the lights off. Frustrated, he tries to hit me. At which point, I say, “Okay. No more rocking. Time for bed,” as I get up and place him in his crib. “Night, night,” I say and walk out. The crying has already begun before the “Night, night.” I hear him jumping up and down in his crib, his wails of protest growing louder as I close the door without looking back. I head to the kitchen to get as far away from the cries as possible, but still hear them plainly. I wonder if Shane will sleep through them.
A frustrated and angry “Ugghhhh!” comes from the bedroom a few minutes later.
He pulls the door open quickly, “Is he locked in his room or something?!”
“No. I’m trying to put him to bed, but he tried to hit me.”
“Oh.” He walks to Ander’s door, yanks it open, “Ander! Stop! No more crying.”
“No more,” says a quiet voice.
“That’s right. All done crying.”
“All done.” I hear him sniffle. Shane has gone in and is continuing to talk to Ander and soothe him as well as calm himself. A few minutes pass and he comes out. Ander is quiet… for about 3 minutes.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
I sigh.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
See a family resemblance?
Whenever I see Ander and his grandpa H together, there is just no mistaking that they are related.
And here is one of three generations.
These were taken in February during a three-day trip to Eager, Arizona.
And here is one of three generations.
These were taken in February during a three-day trip to Eager, Arizona.
Loves the bikes
Ander, ever the climber, has learned how to get up on the moto all by himself. Now he is taking his best friends along for the ride. Please note that Curious George is wearing shoes. Ander insisted I place these on him before he climbed up on the moto. "Shoes. Ride. Shoes." The other one is his ever present "baby".
slice of life - 3/18/09 (Wed.)
I kiss Shane on the forehead a rub his arm and back, unsure how best to wake him.
"Honey," I kiss him again. "Honey." I'm saying this softly, a gentle wake-up, which is going to be deceiving when I share with him the reason.
"What?"
"Laurie's not home. I'm not sure what you want me to do," I say.
"What time is it?"
"9:30" She is supposed to be home at 8 p.m. With Shane going to bed earlier than this, he is unsure some nights whether she is home or not.
"(Expletive). I'm so tired of this," he says. "Call her in."
"To the police?"
"Yes."
"As a runaway?"
"Yes."
I turn and walk down the hallway. I'm hesitant to do this. I want to go to bed and the first call to report a runaway child and set up a file on them means a police visit when they can fit you in next, which might be 20 minutes or 6 hours away. I consider that I wouldn't be able to tell them what she was wearing when she left.
"I'm going to go hunt her down at Justin's." I say and get my wallet and phone from my purse on the kitchen table. I know that he heard me but he remains silent as I walk out the door.
I drive the 1/4 mile or so to her friend's house. As I pull up to the curb I see motion just outside the door. When I get out and begin to approach, Justin is walking toward me with a cell phone in his hand, trying to call someone, though he has acknowledged me.
"Is Laurie here?"
"Um, I don't know." -- I can tell he's lying immediately.
"You don't know?"
"They left a half hour ago." They being Laurie and boyfriend Matt.
"Where were they going," I ask.
"Um, I don't know. I was just leaving to take her this shirt," he says. So, if he doesn't know where they went, how could he know where to take her shirt. It's some BS story.
"Well, she's not at our house," I say and turn and walk back to the car.
I make a U-turn in the street and head back to our house. I know she's at Justin's. It will be interesting, I think to myself, to see how long it takes her to get home. I bet it will be just about as long as it takes to walk this distance plus the 3 minutes it will take her to say good-bye.
As I pull into the driveway, I'm resenting having to wait up for her and change strategies.
Instead, I'm going to catch her in the act.
So I back out and head that direction, but on the street just south of his. I'm going to circle around so they don't see or hear the car coming. This street will allow me to get on the other side of Justin's house and pass by so I might come up behind Laurie and Matt walking toward our house.
Instead, as I round the corner, I see them walking towards me instead -- away from our house, which means she intended to stay out even later. Throw another log onto the fire.
I put the car in park, open the door and say firmly, "Laurie, get in the car."
I've caught them off guard. She doesn't put up much of a fuss as she says good bye to Matt and get's in the car. She almost seems desperate as she tries to confirm something with him, "Try noon tomorrow babe, okay? Noon."
The ride is silent.
As we approach the house, I say, "If the distractions keep you from following the rules, we'll eliminate the distractions and your friends and Matt won't be allowed to be near our house after 8." This threatens her activities for the last 2 weeks whereby Matt comes over by 8 with her and stays with her outside hanging out and talking until 10 or so.
She comes into the house and goes straight to her room. I hear her crying.
"Honey," I kiss him again. "Honey." I'm saying this softly, a gentle wake-up, which is going to be deceiving when I share with him the reason.
"What?"
"Laurie's not home. I'm not sure what you want me to do," I say.
"What time is it?"
"9:30" She is supposed to be home at 8 p.m. With Shane going to bed earlier than this, he is unsure some nights whether she is home or not.
"(Expletive). I'm so tired of this," he says. "Call her in."
"To the police?"
"Yes."
"As a runaway?"
"Yes."
I turn and walk down the hallway. I'm hesitant to do this. I want to go to bed and the first call to report a runaway child and set up a file on them means a police visit when they can fit you in next, which might be 20 minutes or 6 hours away. I consider that I wouldn't be able to tell them what she was wearing when she left.
"I'm going to go hunt her down at Justin's." I say and get my wallet and phone from my purse on the kitchen table. I know that he heard me but he remains silent as I walk out the door.
I drive the 1/4 mile or so to her friend's house. As I pull up to the curb I see motion just outside the door. When I get out and begin to approach, Justin is walking toward me with a cell phone in his hand, trying to call someone, though he has acknowledged me.
"Is Laurie here?"
"Um, I don't know." -- I can tell he's lying immediately.
"You don't know?"
"They left a half hour ago." They being Laurie and boyfriend Matt.
"Where were they going," I ask.
"Um, I don't know. I was just leaving to take her this shirt," he says. So, if he doesn't know where they went, how could he know where to take her shirt. It's some BS story.
"Well, she's not at our house," I say and turn and walk back to the car.
I make a U-turn in the street and head back to our house. I know she's at Justin's. It will be interesting, I think to myself, to see how long it takes her to get home. I bet it will be just about as long as it takes to walk this distance plus the 3 minutes it will take her to say good-bye.
As I pull into the driveway, I'm resenting having to wait up for her and change strategies.
Instead, I'm going to catch her in the act.
So I back out and head that direction, but on the street just south of his. I'm going to circle around so they don't see or hear the car coming. This street will allow me to get on the other side of Justin's house and pass by so I might come up behind Laurie and Matt walking toward our house.
Instead, as I round the corner, I see them walking towards me instead -- away from our house, which means she intended to stay out even later. Throw another log onto the fire.
I put the car in park, open the door and say firmly, "Laurie, get in the car."
I've caught them off guard. She doesn't put up much of a fuss as she says good bye to Matt and get's in the car. She almost seems desperate as she tries to confirm something with him, "Try noon tomorrow babe, okay? Noon."
The ride is silent.
As we approach the house, I say, "If the distractions keep you from following the rules, we'll eliminate the distractions and your friends and Matt won't be allowed to be near our house after 8." This threatens her activities for the last 2 weeks whereby Matt comes over by 8 with her and stays with her outside hanging out and talking until 10 or so.
She comes into the house and goes straight to her room. I hear her crying.
slice of life - 3/17 - St. Pat's
"Time for cake!" I announce as I walk in the door from accompanying Laurie to a gyn appt with bags of groceries in my hand.
"I'm going to bed," Shane says. It is around 7:30 p.m. and he works tomorrow at 4 a.m.. Going to bed now means a 7 hour sleep before his workday begins.
Ander gets up from Shane's lap -- they were watching TV in the livingroom with Ander sitting in Shane's crossed legs on the floor -- and follows me into the kitchen. "Cak. Cak." he is saying, pointing to the counter top where is was placed earlier that day.
After setting the groceries on the counter, I pick him up and slide him to my left hip as I begin to dig for candles in the cupboard, 'Today is mommy's birthday. Did you know that? Today, I get to blow out candles on the cake. Can you help me?"
"Yap."
I sit him on the countertop and take the lid off the 9X5 cake Shane purchased for me earlier that day. The purple icing stating, "Happy Birthday Cathleen" on a white background with flowers on the corners. I place two dark blue candles.
Laurie is ready with her lighter and Matt is standing at the counter.
"Happy birthday to mommy," I sing
Happy birthday to mommy. Happy birthday dear momma. Happy birthday dear mommy."
I wish for this coming year to have less emotional upheaval than the last.
I look at Ander and suck in a large, dramatic breath. He gets the hint and draws in a breath too and we blow together. Mine goes out without a hitch. Ander huffs and puffs a few times before his is extinguished.
Cake for everyone.
"I'm going to bed," Shane says. It is around 7:30 p.m. and he works tomorrow at 4 a.m.. Going to bed now means a 7 hour sleep before his workday begins.
Ander gets up from Shane's lap -- they were watching TV in the livingroom with Ander sitting in Shane's crossed legs on the floor -- and follows me into the kitchen. "Cak. Cak." he is saying, pointing to the counter top where is was placed earlier that day.
After setting the groceries on the counter, I pick him up and slide him to my left hip as I begin to dig for candles in the cupboard, 'Today is mommy's birthday. Did you know that? Today, I get to blow out candles on the cake. Can you help me?"
"Yap."
I sit him on the countertop and take the lid off the 9X5 cake Shane purchased for me earlier that day. The purple icing stating, "Happy Birthday Cathleen" on a white background with flowers on the corners. I place two dark blue candles.
Laurie is ready with her lighter and Matt is standing at the counter.
"Happy birthday to mommy," I sing
Happy birthday to mommy. Happy birthday dear momma. Happy birthday dear mommy."
I wish for this coming year to have less emotional upheaval than the last.
I look at Ander and suck in a large, dramatic breath. He gets the hint and draws in a breath too and we blow together. Mine goes out without a hitch. Ander huffs and puffs a few times before his is extinguished.
Cake for everyone.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Slice of LIfe - 3/16/09 (Monday)
The heavy hotel door shut behind me as I place the days’ booty in their pink plastic bags on the king bed. Shane moves to the air conditioner unit and turns it on high while I use the restroom. I hear the TV come on as I open the door and return to the room. Taking off my shoes, I sit cross legged on the bed and begin to go through the bags.
I pull out the two t-shirts from the Titan Missile Museum that we toured. A bright blue 2T for Ander with a picture of the galaxy and the saying “Everything revolves around me” in between the planets. For Laurie, a small, white T with the word “me” in the middle of the planets and the words above the image “Center of the Universe.” Sometimes that 14-year span between them means nothing. I also pull out the small backpack, reviewing the missile, space shuttle, truck, moon rover and other action items for Ander to play with.
The next bag came from San Xavier Mission. Two books for the kids, some DeGrazia notecards and a woman figurine that is sitting crosslegged with the place for a tea light for myself, to remind me to seek stillness and peace. I scan Ander’s book, God is My Friend and read Laurie’s, The Woman Who Loved Wild Horses, and wonder, again, if it is too young for her. The pictures are richly colored and the story is about a girl who runs with the horses she loves and eventually, per village fable, becomes one. Too late, she’s getting it now, and I consider how to tell her that I still see her passion and compassion during this rebellious time.
I separate my goods from theirs and re-bag the items. Following that, I begin to thumb through the book we purchased at the Desert Museum, Landscape Plants for Dry Climates,and envision these plants in our front or back yards. The second book, I don’t touch quite yet. It is a smaller book of a woman’s personal perspective and advice about planting in Arizona.
About 30 minutes pass. Shane is softly snoring as he lays sideways across the bed. I put the book down, take of my glasses and spoon him, thinking what an appropriate way to top our day- a nice nap.
I pull out the two t-shirts from the Titan Missile Museum that we toured. A bright blue 2T for Ander with a picture of the galaxy and the saying “Everything revolves around me” in between the planets. For Laurie, a small, white T with the word “me” in the middle of the planets and the words above the image “Center of the Universe.” Sometimes that 14-year span between them means nothing. I also pull out the small backpack, reviewing the missile, space shuttle, truck, moon rover and other action items for Ander to play with.
The next bag came from San Xavier Mission. Two books for the kids, some DeGrazia notecards and a woman figurine that is sitting crosslegged with the place for a tea light for myself, to remind me to seek stillness and peace. I scan Ander’s book, God is My Friend and read Laurie’s, The Woman Who Loved Wild Horses, and wonder, again, if it is too young for her. The pictures are richly colored and the story is about a girl who runs with the horses she loves and eventually, per village fable, becomes one. Too late, she’s getting it now, and I consider how to tell her that I still see her passion and compassion during this rebellious time.
I separate my goods from theirs and re-bag the items. Following that, I begin to thumb through the book we purchased at the Desert Museum, Landscape Plants for Dry Climates,and envision these plants in our front or back yards. The second book, I don’t touch quite yet. It is a smaller book of a woman’s personal perspective and advice about planting in Arizona.
About 30 minutes pass. Shane is softly snoring as he lays sideways across the bed. I put the book down, take of my glasses and spoon him, thinking what an appropriate way to top our day- a nice nap.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Slice of life - 3/15/09 (Sunday)
We're sitting in Gentle Ben's, a brewery just outside the main entrance to the University of Arizona on University Drive in Tucson.
"Would you like another?" the waitress asks.
I look at Shane and see the confirmation in his eyes. "Should I stick with what's good or try something new?" I ask him. "Something new," he says.
"Okay, I'll take the amber," I say. "And I'll take the pale ale," Shane says.
I drink the remaining few drinks of my rasperberry ale and lick my lips as the waitress appears with our next round.
We are sitting on the shaded patio, in 80-degree weather, a four-level fountain providing a calming water sound. Birds are madly hopping from branch to branch of the blooming bouganvillea next to us, hoping for another tortilla chip or piece of our pretzel. Only a few tables are occupied in the late afternoon. We sit side-by-side, looking out toward the street, people watching with occasional comments.
We pick up our beers, "Cheers..." he says, "Cheers," I reply. Clink!
"Would you like another?" the waitress asks.
I look at Shane and see the confirmation in his eyes. "Should I stick with what's good or try something new?" I ask him. "Something new," he says.
"Okay, I'll take the amber," I say. "And I'll take the pale ale," Shane says.
I drink the remaining few drinks of my rasperberry ale and lick my lips as the waitress appears with our next round.
We are sitting on the shaded patio, in 80-degree weather, a four-level fountain providing a calming water sound. Birds are madly hopping from branch to branch of the blooming bouganvillea next to us, hoping for another tortilla chip or piece of our pretzel. Only a few tables are occupied in the late afternoon. We sit side-by-side, looking out toward the street, people watching with occasional comments.
We pick up our beers, "Cheers..." he says, "Cheers," I reply. Clink!
Slice of life - 3/14/09 (Saturday)
"Bye, bye!" I say, waving to Ander and Laurie in the back seat of Aunt Hazel's minivan as they depart the Anthem outlets. She is taking them for 3 nights -- allowing Shane and I an unprecedented kid-free weekend.
There's a twang in my heart but I stifle it and take advantage of the free time. This is how I spend the next 24 hours (these may seem like simple things but those who have experience with young ones or have been with me with Ander will understand):
There's a twang in my heart but I stifle it and take advantage of the free time. This is how I spend the next 24 hours (these may seem like simple things but those who have experience with young ones or have been with me with Ander will understand):
- Shop with Jeanette at Ann Taylors -- for more than 10 minutes. Try on clothes. Pay for them and have a conversation with the cashier that doesn't include, "Ander, put that down please."
- Drive in the car. In silence. Without checking the mirror to watch the child in the back seat.
- Get a haircut. During naptime.
- Have a coke (not lemonade or fruit punch), without sharing, or trying to talk Ander into his juice as I drink from a straw.
- Vacumm the car. Dispose of all the cereal and chips that were in the seats and on the floor before Ander picks them up and eats them. Put the bag of toys in the trunk. Remember what the car looked like clean on the day we got it.
- Not rush home.
- Go out to dinner. For an hour. Not take the diaper bag. And back-up toys.
- Go home and not have to put anyone to bed but me.
- Walk around the house in nothing but a sweatshirt as Shane showers with the door open.
- Go "potty" alone. Take as long as I want.
- Sleep in. Past 6:30 a.m.
- Eat breakfast. In the livingroom. Not watching cartoons.
- Sit still. Not pick up any mess. Or change any diapers.
- Pack a bag for a weekend away. With only my belongings.
- Ride in the car. And not turn around to hand over a drink, snack, or toy.
It's the simple things, really, that bring luxury.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Slice of life – 3/12/09 (Thursday)
“You ready to take a bath?” I ask Ander, kneeling on a kitchen table chair.
Ander turns in his seat and jauntily jumps down to the floor, grabs his car from the table and hugs it to his chest, turns to me, “Yep!” and then turns and runs toward the bathroom.
I seize on his willingness (Last night the inquiry brought rounds of wails “No! No!”) and follow him.
“Not Mommy’s bathroom, Ander. Ander -- this one. You can take a bath by yourself tonight,” I use the tone that makes if sound as if this is a big treat. He’s onto me though and I see his protest start to take shape. I head him off at the pass, “Do you want to take your cars?”
At the mention of cars, he is reminded of the fun to be had in the tub and is ready to go again.
“Yep.”
We head into the bath and I run the water. He starts to climb in.
“Whoa! Let’s take off your clothes first.” Off comes the shirt, shoes, socks, pants and diaper. He tries to climb in holding his cars. “Here, I’ll hold your cars.”
“Yep.” He hands them to me, climbs over the rim and turns immediately, apparently worried that I would somehow run out of the room with his cherished possessions. “Ca! Ca!” I hand them over.
He drives them under the water, on the rim and all over as I follow him with handfuls of water, trying to put them on his head to moisten his hair for the wash. Shampoo next and I begin to lather as he lays on his belly.
Suddenly, he decides he needs to use the potty. “Poo, poo.”
“You need to go poo poo?”(we are not there yet, but we’re using the words and getting the concepts down.
“Yep.”
I debate – dripping child with shampoo halfway down his back or try to talk him out of it.
“Let’s wait until after the bath.”
“Poo, poo.”
Resigned, knowing a larger scene will unfold if I stick to my original strategy, I help him out. He maneuvers himself onto the mini plastic potty. I wait. He points at me, “Momma. Poo, poo.” And points to the toilet. Ugh.
As soon as I settle on, he jumps up and says, “done” though there is no evidence of this in the potty and gets back into the tub.
The rest of the bathtime is filled with splashing and kicking, playing peek-a-boo with the shower curtain, playing doggie with the puppy wash mit as I try to lather him up. I’m wet and he points to me, “Mess.” He says. “yes, mommy is messy. Ander made mommy messy.”
“Yep.”
“Are you all done?”
“Yep.” He gets out and immediately lays down on the tub mat.
“Night, night.” This is the game we play after each bath. I cover him with the towel, pat him down and say, “Night, night.”
He looks at me, “Mommy, night night!” and pats the floor next to him. Ugh.
I lay down and he gets up and heaves the towel on me. Pats me hard as he says, “Night, night. Night, night.”
A moment of silence where he hears Shane in the kitchen grinding coffee beans as he prepares the coffee maker for tomorrow morning’s brew. And he’s off running naked down the hallway to the kitchen.
Ander turns in his seat and jauntily jumps down to the floor, grabs his car from the table and hugs it to his chest, turns to me, “Yep!” and then turns and runs toward the bathroom.
I seize on his willingness (Last night the inquiry brought rounds of wails “No! No!”) and follow him.
“Not Mommy’s bathroom, Ander. Ander -- this one. You can take a bath by yourself tonight,” I use the tone that makes if sound as if this is a big treat. He’s onto me though and I see his protest start to take shape. I head him off at the pass, “Do you want to take your cars?”
At the mention of cars, he is reminded of the fun to be had in the tub and is ready to go again.
“Yep.”
We head into the bath and I run the water. He starts to climb in.
“Whoa! Let’s take off your clothes first.” Off comes the shirt, shoes, socks, pants and diaper. He tries to climb in holding his cars. “Here, I’ll hold your cars.”
“Yep.” He hands them to me, climbs over the rim and turns immediately, apparently worried that I would somehow run out of the room with his cherished possessions. “Ca! Ca!” I hand them over.
He drives them under the water, on the rim and all over as I follow him with handfuls of water, trying to put them on his head to moisten his hair for the wash. Shampoo next and I begin to lather as he lays on his belly.
Suddenly, he decides he needs to use the potty. “Poo, poo.”
“You need to go poo poo?”(we are not there yet, but we’re using the words and getting the concepts down.
“Yep.”
I debate – dripping child with shampoo halfway down his back or try to talk him out of it.
“Let’s wait until after the bath.”
“Poo, poo.”
Resigned, knowing a larger scene will unfold if I stick to my original strategy, I help him out. He maneuvers himself onto the mini plastic potty. I wait. He points at me, “Momma. Poo, poo.” And points to the toilet. Ugh.
As soon as I settle on, he jumps up and says, “done” though there is no evidence of this in the potty and gets back into the tub.
The rest of the bathtime is filled with splashing and kicking, playing peek-a-boo with the shower curtain, playing doggie with the puppy wash mit as I try to lather him up. I’m wet and he points to me, “Mess.” He says. “yes, mommy is messy. Ander made mommy messy.”
“Yep.”
“Are you all done?”
“Yep.” He gets out and immediately lays down on the tub mat.
“Night, night.” This is the game we play after each bath. I cover him with the towel, pat him down and say, “Night, night.”
He looks at me, “Mommy, night night!” and pats the floor next to him. Ugh.
I lay down and he gets up and heaves the towel on me. Pats me hard as he says, “Night, night. Night, night.”
A moment of silence where he hears Shane in the kitchen grinding coffee beans as he prepares the coffee maker for tomorrow morning’s brew. And he’s off running naked down the hallway to the kitchen.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Slice of life 3/10/09 (Tuesday)
“Do you watch the Biggest Loser?” Michelle (Shane’s sister) asks, emerging from the hallway in her grey sweats and t-shirt. I have kissed and hugged her good night, after her assertions of being exhausted from a day of travel from Newport News, Virginia.
I’m sitting on the living room floor in my own pajamas, searching for something to watch. Laurie is sitting on the couch.”No. But we don’t really watch anything regularly.”
“I told Ashley (her daughter) not to tell me what happens,” she says. “It’s the only program I watch really. I like to see the transformation of the people from the beginning to the end.”
“When does it come on?” I ask.
“Tuesdays,” she replies. I scroll and find the program is just starting.
“Do you want to stay up another hour and watch it?” I ask.
“If you don’t mind…”
“I don’t mind. I was looking for something to watch anyway.”
“Okay,” she says, visibly excited. “Let me get my…” I don’t hear the rest as she is headed down the hall to retrieve something.
I select the channel, Michelle returns and settles in on the floor using the couch as a back rest. I am laying on the floor with a couch pillow under my head.
Michelle fills Laurie and me in on the participants and players, giving us background leading up to this episode and other information as the show unfolds.
During commercials we talk about other mundane things. We both find Billie Mays annoying, have tried OxyClean and don’t think it’s all that. We talk about her history of sciatica – I can feel mine when I lay like I am – and treatments she had undergone. Who Ashley is dating and what a nice guy he is, possessing gentlemanly manners and general kindness, traits hard to find these days. The frustrations brought around by the typical teen.
We communicate more comfortably and casually in that hour than in the two preceding, likely due to the boy now being in bed. Shane, too, is asleep.
When the program ends, we sit a bit longer. I grudgingly get up to pack Ander’s lunch and Michelle heads outside for a cigarette before bed with Laurie joining her to provide company. We get back to that which was going on before.
I’m sitting on the living room floor in my own pajamas, searching for something to watch. Laurie is sitting on the couch.”No. But we don’t really watch anything regularly.”
“I told Ashley (her daughter) not to tell me what happens,” she says. “It’s the only program I watch really. I like to see the transformation of the people from the beginning to the end.”
“When does it come on?” I ask.
“Tuesdays,” she replies. I scroll and find the program is just starting.
“Do you want to stay up another hour and watch it?” I ask.
“If you don’t mind…”
“I don’t mind. I was looking for something to watch anyway.”
“Okay,” she says, visibly excited. “Let me get my…” I don’t hear the rest as she is headed down the hall to retrieve something.
I select the channel, Michelle returns and settles in on the floor using the couch as a back rest. I am laying on the floor with a couch pillow under my head.
Michelle fills Laurie and me in on the participants and players, giving us background leading up to this episode and other information as the show unfolds.
During commercials we talk about other mundane things. We both find Billie Mays annoying, have tried OxyClean and don’t think it’s all that. We talk about her history of sciatica – I can feel mine when I lay like I am – and treatments she had undergone. Who Ashley is dating and what a nice guy he is, possessing gentlemanly manners and general kindness, traits hard to find these days. The frustrations brought around by the typical teen.
We communicate more comfortably and casually in that hour than in the two preceding, likely due to the boy now being in bed. Shane, too, is asleep.
When the program ends, we sit a bit longer. I grudgingly get up to pack Ander’s lunch and Michelle heads outside for a cigarette before bed with Laurie joining her to provide company. We get back to that which was going on before.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Slice of life – 3/9/09 (Monday)
I smell smoke. There must be a fire somewhere. I scan the horizon. No evident smoke trails.
The smell is gone, followed by orange blossoms. They’re pervasive this time of year and within seconds the air temperature cools significantly. I’m passing by an orange grove on my way to the highway.
I feel cool air sneaking through the zipper seams on my jacket, around my ankles and wrists.
I move the my motorcycle side to side on the road, as if weaving through cones, refamiliarizing myself with the feel – and just having some fun. It’s been a long time, my friend.
I stop at the red light before turning onto the freeway onramp. Green light. Throttle open. And the power moves me down the road to work, smile on my face.
I love this.
The smell is gone, followed by orange blossoms. They’re pervasive this time of year and within seconds the air temperature cools significantly. I’m passing by an orange grove on my way to the highway.
I feel cool air sneaking through the zipper seams on my jacket, around my ankles and wrists.
I move the my motorcycle side to side on the road, as if weaving through cones, refamiliarizing myself with the feel – and just having some fun. It’s been a long time, my friend.
I stop at the red light before turning onto the freeway onramp. Green light. Throttle open. And the power moves me down the road to work, smile on my face.
I love this.
Slice of life – 3/8/09 (Sunday)
I burrow down into the covers, pulling them over my ear but leaving my mouth area open for fresh air. It’s just after 11 a.m. and, having just laid Ander down for a nap, I am taking the luxury myself. Still in my PJs, I revel in my cocoon and the feel of the bed beneath me. Resting. If I do nothing but rest, it will be worth it.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Slice of life - 3/7/09
We’re walking through the District at Tempe Marketplace (an outdoor mall with water and fire features, areas to sit and enjoy the day with good restaurants and boutique shops) .
Jeanette and Aunt Hazel are at least 4 stores ahead and I look back, “C’mon Ander,” I say.
He is inspecting the decorative colored glass in the large planter. “Don’t put that in your mouth, honey. C’mon.” He looks up at me, puts the glass down and runs toward me. I smile at his swinging arms and swaggering run. His eyes pass from me to behind me and he continues to run, just out of reach, into a store called Apricot Lane.
Stopping at the door and entering with more caution, he is drawn to the motorcycle in the store. A big sign says “No touching or sitting on the motorcycle.” Which I read to Ander. He points, wanting to badly to touch it, but doesn’t (good boy!) and moves further into the store, drawn by all of the clothes and accessories studded with sparkling and shining objects.
He wanders through, making gestures and grunts at objects. He gets to an African American mannequin near the dressing rooms. He circles around him, looks up and says, “Hi!” with his hand in the air. I love that he is so outgoing and slightly sad that the mannequin won’t be responding.
I try distraction, “Oooh, Ander, look,” I say, holding a sparkly belt. He comes over to touch it, he hugs it close and let’s go. He is drawn to the sunglasses display near the cashier. On his approach, he sees the cashier and heads toward him. Standing just outside the opening to the cashier area, Ander again raises his hand, “Hi!” The cashier responds, “Hi there.”
We are the only ones in the store and the cashier, a man named Nick, gets off of his stool and comes over. Ander starts talking, gesturing with his hands in a fashion that looks as if he is asking a question. He stops, hands in air with palms up, waiting for an answer. Nick responds, “You want some sunglasses?” Little did he know how much he had just become endeared to Ander, who loves glasses. Nick hands Ander a pair from the rack. I stop him, “I don’t want him to break those.”
“They’re free,” he says. “We’re trying to get rid of them.” Ander has grasped them and is trying them on. They are in the new fashion of being BIG and the looks like a fly. But is swaggering around, like a rooster with a harem. “Are you sure?” I ask in somewhat disbelief. Nick waves my concern away “yes” and returns behind the counter to watch Ander and the store.
Ander comes before the counter, “Up” he says to me, pointing skyward. I pick him up and place him on the counter. He talks, again, to Nick. This is bonding time, I can tell. I am simply the translator. Nick rolls well with the jibber jabber, answering and asking questions. I introduce myself and we shake hands. Ander then offers his own hand, takes a business card from the counter, and then hands it to Nick. It was priceless – classic. Nick and I laugh.
A bit more conversation ensues before Aunt Hazel and Jeanette appear at the door. “Here you are! Ready to go?” Hazel asks. I turn to Nick, thank him. Ander also says, “Ank u” and then, as I pull him from the counter, “Bye, bye!” waving to Nick.
Once on the floor, he makes a bee line for the door , sunglasses in hand, heading toward our next adventure.
Jeanette and Aunt Hazel are at least 4 stores ahead and I look back, “C’mon Ander,” I say.
He is inspecting the decorative colored glass in the large planter. “Don’t put that in your mouth, honey. C’mon.” He looks up at me, puts the glass down and runs toward me. I smile at his swinging arms and swaggering run. His eyes pass from me to behind me and he continues to run, just out of reach, into a store called Apricot Lane.
Stopping at the door and entering with more caution, he is drawn to the motorcycle in the store. A big sign says “No touching or sitting on the motorcycle.” Which I read to Ander. He points, wanting to badly to touch it, but doesn’t (good boy!) and moves further into the store, drawn by all of the clothes and accessories studded with sparkling and shining objects.
He wanders through, making gestures and grunts at objects. He gets to an African American mannequin near the dressing rooms. He circles around him, looks up and says, “Hi!” with his hand in the air. I love that he is so outgoing and slightly sad that the mannequin won’t be responding.
I try distraction, “Oooh, Ander, look,” I say, holding a sparkly belt. He comes over to touch it, he hugs it close and let’s go. He is drawn to the sunglasses display near the cashier. On his approach, he sees the cashier and heads toward him. Standing just outside the opening to the cashier area, Ander again raises his hand, “Hi!” The cashier responds, “Hi there.”
We are the only ones in the store and the cashier, a man named Nick, gets off of his stool and comes over. Ander starts talking, gesturing with his hands in a fashion that looks as if he is asking a question. He stops, hands in air with palms up, waiting for an answer. Nick responds, “You want some sunglasses?” Little did he know how much he had just become endeared to Ander, who loves glasses. Nick hands Ander a pair from the rack. I stop him, “I don’t want him to break those.”
“They’re free,” he says. “We’re trying to get rid of them.” Ander has grasped them and is trying them on. They are in the new fashion of being BIG and the looks like a fly. But is swaggering around, like a rooster with a harem. “Are you sure?” I ask in somewhat disbelief. Nick waves my concern away “yes” and returns behind the counter to watch Ander and the store.
Ander comes before the counter, “Up” he says to me, pointing skyward. I pick him up and place him on the counter. He talks, again, to Nick. This is bonding time, I can tell. I am simply the translator. Nick rolls well with the jibber jabber, answering and asking questions. I introduce myself and we shake hands. Ander then offers his own hand, takes a business card from the counter, and then hands it to Nick. It was priceless – classic. Nick and I laugh.
A bit more conversation ensues before Aunt Hazel and Jeanette appear at the door. “Here you are! Ready to go?” Hazel asks. I turn to Nick, thank him. Ander also says, “Ank u” and then, as I pull him from the counter, “Bye, bye!” waving to Nick.
Once on the floor, he makes a bee line for the door , sunglasses in hand, heading toward our next adventure.
Friday, March 6, 2009
slice of life - 3/5/09
I lay spooning my husband, feeling the weight of the day. Not tired, but defeated, I need communion with my partner. My hand on his thigh I let the day's emotions roll over me:
I can sense that Shane, too, is awake and not resting. We are communing without words. Lending support in our touch as we both process and release this day.
“Good night love,” he says.
“Good night lover,” I reply.
*Inspiration from the day-long training *Concern for the work crisis that followed and the explanations and examinations that took place as everyone looked for one to blame. *Discouragement that Ander continues to bite and apologetic for the kids he bit at daycare that day. *Impatience as his tired and sick clinginess and tantrums filled the evening. *Disappointment that Laurie continues to just use the house and what it provides without contributing in any way. *The conflict of yet-another exchange between Shane and Laurie about the rules of the house. *Fear that the 2 hours of sleep Shane has lost this evening will cause him to be more tired tomorrow as he drives fuel across the state.
I can sense that Shane, too, is awake and not resting. We are communing without words. Lending support in our touch as we both process and release this day.
“Good night love,” he says.
“Good night lover,” I reply.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
slice of life - 3/4/09
7:30 p.m. – Shane tells me he is going to bed. He gives me the house cell-phone, and shares with me that a woman will be coming to the house around 8 to look at the 2 fans that he took down earlier that day to purchase them. He is firm on the pricing at $100 for both. He kisses and hugs me goodnight and then chases Ander down for the same. He goes into the bedroom and closes the door. I stop straightening up the house and put in Harold and the Purple Crayon for Ander, trying to calm him down before his 8 p.m. bedtime.
7:55 p.m. – A call from an unknown number and woman letting me know they are only a few miles away and can they still stop by to look at the fans? Sure, I say. So much for bedtime at 8 for the boy.
8:10 p.m. – The couple park their jacked-up pickup in front of the house and get out, chiding Laurie and Matt (who are moving river rocks from the front yard) that they also have yard work if they need more to do. They come into the house, look at the fans, do the requisite inspection and back and forth about whether they match, how old are they, etc. I don’t indicate that we’re desperate to get rid of them in any way. They confirm the price and I confirm that it is firm. I pocket their $100 and help take them to the truck. By way of chatter, they tell me they are coming from a pro-gay marriage rally. This heartens me in this generally conservative state.
8:30 p.m. – Ander is not interested in going to bed, running away from me outside as I tell him to say “Night, night.” to Laurie and Matt. Gathered in my arms with protests, we head inside to his room for some book reading and rocking.
9:00 p.m. – I emerge from Ander’s room and debate whether to collapse on the couch and postpone packing a lunch for Ander until the morning or packing the lunch now and cleaning the kitchen. The kitchen wins – mostly because I know from weeks of experiments, I cannot pack a lunch in the morning and be on time to work.
10 p.m. – Done with lunches and kitchens, I go outside to ask Laurie and Matt to wrap it up for the night. Matt is headed to go get cigarettes and Laurie says she’ll pack up the tools. I head inside to take a bath.
10:30 p.m. – I go outside, towel on my head, to find Laurie waiting against the house. I tell her I’m headed to bed and to not stay out late. Her response, “I’ll try not to.” In her response I hear the excuses that she will have the next day when I confront her about coming home late. I’m too tired to care, but not too tired to rest on the couch instead of going to bed so I can track what time she comes in.
11:30 p.m. – I hear Laurie and Matt at the front door. I get up and peek out. It looks like they are saying good night. I head into my bedroom. A few minutes later I hear the door open and shut. … twice. I head back out. She is walking down the sidewalk toward him. It looks as if she is going to walk away with him. I head to the front door, “Laurie, come in the house now please.” She responds, “I’m saying goodnight.” I shut the door and head to the kitchen for a drink of water. She comes in, heads right to her room and closes the door. I head to bed.
2:20 a.m. – Shane’s alarm goes off. He’s up and getting ready for work. In my sleep I smell the coffee brewing.
3:00 a.m. – Shane wakes me with a kiss goodbye.
4:15 a.m. – The water I’ve been drinking to clear up a UTI catches up with me.
5:00 a.m. – Laurie wakes. The light from her room and the noise drift into my bedroom.
5:15 a.m. – Laurie leaves the house.
5:37 a.m. – Alarm goes off. I hit snooze until just after 6 a.m. Time to get up and start a new day.
7:55 p.m. – A call from an unknown number and woman letting me know they are only a few miles away and can they still stop by to look at the fans? Sure, I say. So much for bedtime at 8 for the boy.
8:10 p.m. – The couple park their jacked-up pickup in front of the house and get out, chiding Laurie and Matt (who are moving river rocks from the front yard) that they also have yard work if they need more to do. They come into the house, look at the fans, do the requisite inspection and back and forth about whether they match, how old are they, etc. I don’t indicate that we’re desperate to get rid of them in any way. They confirm the price and I confirm that it is firm. I pocket their $100 and help take them to the truck. By way of chatter, they tell me they are coming from a pro-gay marriage rally. This heartens me in this generally conservative state.
8:30 p.m. – Ander is not interested in going to bed, running away from me outside as I tell him to say “Night, night.” to Laurie and Matt. Gathered in my arms with protests, we head inside to his room for some book reading and rocking.
9:00 p.m. – I emerge from Ander’s room and debate whether to collapse on the couch and postpone packing a lunch for Ander until the morning or packing the lunch now and cleaning the kitchen. The kitchen wins – mostly because I know from weeks of experiments, I cannot pack a lunch in the morning and be on time to work.
10 p.m. – Done with lunches and kitchens, I go outside to ask Laurie and Matt to wrap it up for the night. Matt is headed to go get cigarettes and Laurie says she’ll pack up the tools. I head inside to take a bath.
10:30 p.m. – I go outside, towel on my head, to find Laurie waiting against the house. I tell her I’m headed to bed and to not stay out late. Her response, “I’ll try not to.” In her response I hear the excuses that she will have the next day when I confront her about coming home late. I’m too tired to care, but not too tired to rest on the couch instead of going to bed so I can track what time she comes in.
11:30 p.m. – I hear Laurie and Matt at the front door. I get up and peek out. It looks like they are saying good night. I head into my bedroom. A few minutes later I hear the door open and shut. … twice. I head back out. She is walking down the sidewalk toward him. It looks as if she is going to walk away with him. I head to the front door, “Laurie, come in the house now please.” She responds, “I’m saying goodnight.” I shut the door and head to the kitchen for a drink of water. She comes in, heads right to her room and closes the door. I head to bed.
2:20 a.m. – Shane’s alarm goes off. He’s up and getting ready for work. In my sleep I smell the coffee brewing.
3:00 a.m. – Shane wakes me with a kiss goodbye.
4:15 a.m. – The water I’ve been drinking to clear up a UTI catches up with me.
5:00 a.m. – Laurie wakes. The light from her room and the noise drift into my bedroom.
5:15 a.m. – Laurie leaves the house.
5:37 a.m. – Alarm goes off. I hit snooze until just after 6 a.m. Time to get up and start a new day.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Slice of life - 3-3-09
The black Honda accord pulls up into my driveway.
“Thanks so much for going out of your way to drop me off,” I say to my co-worker as I open the door and get out.
The driveway looks empty with only one car – the other one was dropped off earlier that day for a transmission rebuild.
I wave goodbye as she pulls out and drives away. I walk along the path to the front door looking at the small flowers I planted a month earlier.
As I open it I hear Shane, “Don’t make it sound like I’m victimizing you Laurie.”
And see Laurie standing defensively the end of the kitchen counter and Ander sitting at the table having a snack. “I’m not!”
“You are. You just said that it’s my fault Matt can’t come over…when you've had all afternoon...”
Ander has seen me and is running towards me, arms open, hair disheveled from his nap, “Mom..my!”
I scoop down to pick him up and give him a hello hug. He begins to play with my necklace with his right hand as I hold him in the crook of my left arm. “Did you go to the doctor today? “ I ask him, wondering if Shane has already given him the first does of antibiotics for a double ear infection and congestion in lungs from a cold. “Yep.” I hear he is still wheezing.
“I said that earlier, because I was angry…” she continues. “ Can I please just borrow the phone to call Matt?”
“No, Laurie.” Shane replies, and begins to continue as Laurie interrupts, “It’s boring just moving rocks. Can I please just use the phone?”
“No, Laurie.” And the debate continues as I carry Ander into my bedroom to change out of my work clothes.
A few minutes later I hear a door shut and the house is quiet. She has left. I’m not sure how angry or frustrated she is. I didn’t look at her face beyond when I first came in the door.
After changing into a pair of black capris and teal tank top with “Angel” studded in silver across the chest, I leave the bedroom, and peek through her room and the window to where she was moving river rock on the front property. This is our attempt to give her a respectable way to earn some money.
She’s no where to be seen. She has apparently left and I know it will probably be 8 p.m. until she shows again, her nightly curfew.
I have 3 hours of anxiety-free home time.
“Thanks so much for going out of your way to drop me off,” I say to my co-worker as I open the door and get out.
The driveway looks empty with only one car – the other one was dropped off earlier that day for a transmission rebuild.
I wave goodbye as she pulls out and drives away. I walk along the path to the front door looking at the small flowers I planted a month earlier.
As I open it I hear Shane, “Don’t make it sound like I’m victimizing you Laurie.”
And see Laurie standing defensively the end of the kitchen counter and Ander sitting at the table having a snack. “I’m not!”
“You are. You just said that it’s my fault Matt can’t come over…when you've had all afternoon...”
Ander has seen me and is running towards me, arms open, hair disheveled from his nap, “Mom..my!”
I scoop down to pick him up and give him a hello hug. He begins to play with my necklace with his right hand as I hold him in the crook of my left arm. “Did you go to the doctor today? “ I ask him, wondering if Shane has already given him the first does of antibiotics for a double ear infection and congestion in lungs from a cold. “Yep.” I hear he is still wheezing.
“I said that earlier, because I was angry…” she continues. “ Can I please just borrow the phone to call Matt?”
“No, Laurie.” Shane replies, and begins to continue as Laurie interrupts, “It’s boring just moving rocks. Can I please just use the phone?”
“No, Laurie.” And the debate continues as I carry Ander into my bedroom to change out of my work clothes.
A few minutes later I hear a door shut and the house is quiet. She has left. I’m not sure how angry or frustrated she is. I didn’t look at her face beyond when I first came in the door.
After changing into a pair of black capris and teal tank top with “Angel” studded in silver across the chest, I leave the bedroom, and peek through her room and the window to where she was moving river rock on the front property. This is our attempt to give her a respectable way to earn some money.
She’s no where to be seen. She has apparently left and I know it will probably be 8 p.m. until she shows again, her nightly curfew.
I have 3 hours of anxiety-free home time.
Monday, March 2, 2009
slice of life: 3/2/09
I was challenged by a friend to join the Slice of Life Challenge and write a short "slice of life" entry on the blog each day. Here goes:
He must be awake. I hear bed springs squeaking rhythmically.
I open the door and the jumping stops, blue eyes watching me, waiting for a comment.
“Hi, ” I say.
“Hi.”
I move to the window to push aside the bright green and blue striped curtains to let the sun light the room. His eyes follow. I can tell he’s been up for some time, as there’s no sleep left in them and he doesn’t squint at the light coming through. I turn and walk cribside, reach down to pick him up and ask, as I give him a squeeze and lift at the same time, “Did you sleep good?”
“Yep.”
“Mommy’s eating breakfast. Do you want some breakfast?” I say as I carry him out from his room, kissing his head.
“Yep.”
We approach the kitchen and his perceptive ears hear the faucet on. He leans from my arms to peek around the wall.
“Da!”
“Good morning Ander.”
Ander responds with his own chatter, not quite having mastered “good morning.”
“Do you want some cereal?” I ask, heading through the kitchen to the pantry shelves.
“Yep.”
“Yes?”
“Yesh.” He squiggles out of my arms and drops to the floor to investigate his choices on the shelf at eye-level. I pull out the Cinnamon Life.
“No. No!” Ander says as he reaches for the Smart Start. This has been his choice the last few days. He even chose it for lunch the day before. He hugs the box to his chest and his under 2-foot frame carries it to the kitchen table. He places it on the table, reaching high, so his hands are free to help him pull and climb his way onto the chair.
I follow him through the kitchen, stopping at the cabinet with our dishes. “How about a green bowl? And a green spoon?”
“Yep.” Mental note to self: ask questions that aren’t yes or no answers.
He spots the orange Matchbox sportscar that I got him last night as a surprise. “Ca. Ca!” His version of car.
“Is that your new car?”
“Yep.” So much for mental notes…
I pour him a bowl of cereal and he asks for “Milk”.
Together we eat our cereal as he maneuvers the largest, most heaping spoonful of cereal that he can manage toward his mouth. It’s no use telling him small bites. One lesson at a time.
He must be awake. I hear bed springs squeaking rhythmically.
I open the door and the jumping stops, blue eyes watching me, waiting for a comment.
“Hi, ” I say.
“Hi.”
I move to the window to push aside the bright green and blue striped curtains to let the sun light the room. His eyes follow. I can tell he’s been up for some time, as there’s no sleep left in them and he doesn’t squint at the light coming through. I turn and walk cribside, reach down to pick him up and ask, as I give him a squeeze and lift at the same time, “Did you sleep good?”
“Yep.”
“Mommy’s eating breakfast. Do you want some breakfast?” I say as I carry him out from his room, kissing his head.
“Yep.”
We approach the kitchen and his perceptive ears hear the faucet on. He leans from my arms to peek around the wall.
“Da!”
“Good morning Ander.”
Ander responds with his own chatter, not quite having mastered “good morning.”
“Do you want some cereal?” I ask, heading through the kitchen to the pantry shelves.
“Yep.”
“Yes?”
“Yesh.” He squiggles out of my arms and drops to the floor to investigate his choices on the shelf at eye-level. I pull out the Cinnamon Life.
“No. No!” Ander says as he reaches for the Smart Start. This has been his choice the last few days. He even chose it for lunch the day before. He hugs the box to his chest and his under 2-foot frame carries it to the kitchen table. He places it on the table, reaching high, so his hands are free to help him pull and climb his way onto the chair.
I follow him through the kitchen, stopping at the cabinet with our dishes. “How about a green bowl? And a green spoon?”
“Yep.” Mental note to self: ask questions that aren’t yes or no answers.
He spots the orange Matchbox sportscar that I got him last night as a surprise. “Ca. Ca!” His version of car.
“Is that your new car?”
“Yep.” So much for mental notes…
I pour him a bowl of cereal and he asks for “Milk”.
Together we eat our cereal as he maneuvers the largest, most heaping spoonful of cereal that he can manage toward his mouth. It’s no use telling him small bites. One lesson at a time.
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