Chez Perky

Abby: My Little Music Snob

So we've all heard the debates about nature vs. nurture and we all have our own opinions about them.  Some people believe that everything is totally ingrained and nothing we do on the nurturing side can change nature's ingrained tendencies.  Some people believe that nothing is written in stone and nurturing is absolutely 100% responsible for the way people turn out in life.  Clearly, most of the time, the truth lies somewhere in the middle.  But I am learning that there are definitely some things that are honestly just programmed into our code from the very beginning. 

Take my Abby, for example.  She's my little music snob.  She hasn't had time to have had this ingrained through the nurturing process.  But she comes by it honestly.  I was  a flutist for 15 years and also played oboe for 8 years.  I majored in music in college until I had an injury in my junior year that kept me from finishing my last several performance credits for the degree (I do have a minor in music, but fat lot of good that does me).  I studied under some of the best musicians in the world and had some fantastic opportunities to tour with orchestras in the US and Europe.  I always expected music to be an integral part of my life and I'm shocked to discover that it's not nearly as much in the forefront of my daily life as I expected it to be. 

Back to Abby - that was all just background.

A couple weeks ago, as the babies were finishing up dinner, I put on Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony.  If you know Tchaikovsky at all, you know that he wrote a lot of ballet, and much of what he wrote that ISN'T ballet still lends itself to ballet.  Now, I am clearly no ballerina.  But my kids were in their high chairs looking amused, and Tchaikovsky was floating out of the CD player and there was this big, wide open space in the living room/dining room, so I started pirouetting around and doing really bad arabesques.  Sam and Ellie clapped and smiled, but Abby - oh Abby was cracking up.   I mean, seriously, she was totally CRACKING UP.  She could not stop giggling and laughing and reaching out toward me.  She was completely, totally CRACKING UP.  It's so funny, because she's normally so serious, so watching her crack up was so amusing to me.

I didn't think much of it, because I figured that she was just laughing at her crazy mama making a fool out of herself in the living room, right?    The next day, the babies were playing with toys on the living room floor, and I put the same CD back in and Abby immediately smiled and looked up at me.  I started pirouetting around again, and she started CRACKING UP!  The fun didn't last long, though, because I was getting ready to change their diapers and put them down for a nap.  Seth wandered upstairs and noticed the music on and said, "Oh no!  Did I miss pirouettes AGAIN?"  No way am I ever going to let anyone else ever see me doing pirouettes, not even my husband.  He'd probably fall over laughing.  So I scooped Abby up into my arms and started spinning around with her with the music still on.  Once again, she started cracking up, laughing hysterically.  When I stopped spinning she looked around at the world like it was a new and fascinating place. 

Still, I didn't think much of it, because what kid WOULDN'T love to be scooped up into mommy's arms and spun around for some fun?

Later in the week, my mom was over and I wanted to show her how Abby cracks up when you spin her around, so I scooped her up and spun her around.  She smiled.  And she let out one tiny chuckle.  But no cracking up.  I was completely perplexed.  I tried again.  Still, nothing.  Just a smile.  No cracking up.  How could this be?  How could my daughter be sitting there in my arms purposely making a liar out of me?

And then I realized how quiet it was in the house.  Could that be the problem?  Could my daughter be so discerning that she wanted the music on?  Nah.  Couldn't be.   But, just in case, I turned Tchaikovsky back on, and sure enough, Abby grinned immediately, and as soon as I started spinning her around, she CRACKED UP.

Interestingly, Abby does not respond nearly so strongly to Mozart, Brahms, Moussorgsky, Beethoven, Bach, Prokofiev or Rachmaninoff.  But Ellie totally digs Rachmaninoff - more than anything else.  Isn't it neat that they both have a favorite?  Ellie gets up and dances for Rachmaninoff.  Sam dances for all of it.  He's just a dancing fool.

I love it.

Sam and his Elephant

 

The J-man never had a "lovey" or any specific toy or blanket or anything that he was totally attached to.  We even tried to get him attached to different things to help him with transitions, but he would have nothing to do with it.  So I've never directly experienced a child's attachment to a lovey before. 

When the babies were born, one of Seth's coworkers gave us the cutest little baby blankies with these little stuffed animals on them.  A blue elephant for Sam, and pink bunnies for the girls.  They were an Avon product, which Seth knew because his coworker is an Avon Rep, and has been for years.  They were adorable, but I didn't think much of them other than the fact that they were cute.  After all, we received a lot of cute little things like that when the babies were born, and you never know which things your kids will become attached to later, do you?  There's this adorable little dog that Sam was given that I've been trying to get him attached to, because it's so cute, but no dice.

As it happens, now, a year later, Sam will not put that elephant down.  He carries it everywhere.  He will not let go of it for anything.  I loves that blankie.  The girls like their bunnies just fine, but they aren't attached to them in nearly the same way, they just like them the same way they like any of the other lovey-type toys they have.  But Sam - he loves that blankie.  He won't go to sleep without it.  He wakes up looking for it.  He walks around with it.  He holds it close.  He wants it whereever he is. 

Well, you know this has left me petrified that he will lose it.  Or wear it out (it's rather disgusting right now and I can't wrestle it away from him to wash it).  And I just am so worried that he will accept no substitute!  (Truthfully, he'll take the bunnies as substitutes perfectly fine, but he DOES prefer the elephant)

So I started searching Avon's website, and while I do like Avon a lot, I have to say, their search engine on their site sucks and their categories of products aren't so helpful.  But!  Miraculously!  I found the blankies!  They are called Rock-A-Bye Baby Blankies:

You can not imagine my glee upon finally finding these blankies!  Because, boy are we going to need a couple extra elephants!  (We're good on bunnies, but elephants?  I don't know, would it be overreacting to buy a dozen?)

I've already sent off an email to Seth's coworker asking if we can order a couple extra elephants from her, and letting her know exactly how in love with it Sam is.  Otherwise, I'll happily order them directly from Avon's website.  Because although a parent can never predict which of the myriad of gifts we receive will become THE toy that our children get so attached to, we certainly can stock up once the attachment happens!

And now for your Lovey 101:

Don't make the same mistake that many parents make and just keep a brand new back-up lovey in the closet for when the inevitable happens.  As soon as I receive my back up loveys, I'm going to give one to Sam and wash the old one.  Then when it comes time to wash the one he's got, I'll give him the other new one, and wash the one that he'd had.  Then I'll start evenly rotating them in and out so that they are all equally good and worn - because otherwise, he will come to favor one over the others, and THAT completely defeats the purpose! 

A Few Too Many, Indeed!

So, we went to Target today.  All six of us.  Brilliant idea, right?  Ahem.

Most of you reading this don't know me in real life.  So most of you have never seen me out and about in the real world.  But those of you who have can vouch for the fact that I'm generally pretty put-together.  I'm not all harried and stressed out looking - most of the time.  My kids are usually very well behaved - all of them.  (In public, anyway)  I usually have a smile on my face when we're out in public, because, really?  What else can you do when you're getting all those stares than just plaster a smile on your face and accept that you're a bit of a freak show?

So *most* of the time, we get sweet comments, or just simple nods of acknowledgment at our notable family.  We get a lot of "God Bless You" comments.  We get a lot of people saying, "Oh my gosh, are they twins!?" and they nearly pass out when I say, "no, actually, they're triplets!"  We have many people who tell us how cute or beautiful the babies are, or how lucky we are (we know).  We get the occasional "You sure do have your hands full" comment or "Better you than me" comment (darned right!  I wouldn't trust you with my babies!).  I obviously get hundreds of "are they natural?" remarks.   This is one that every HOM mom needs to decide for herself how to answer.  I suggest having a catalogue of several stock answers to use depending on context and what kind of mood you're in - everything from the truth (either, "yes, they were spontaneous" - if that's the case for you, or "yes, we had some fertility assistance" - if that's the case) to humour ("well, they're not made of a space-age polymer, if that's what you mean") to evasion ("all babies are natural") to pointing out the etiquette error ("We prefer not to discuss the means we used to conceive our babies, just as I'm sure you'd prefer not to discuss your sex life with me").

Most of the time, people's comments do not bother me.  I know that - for the most part - people mean well and don't realize when they've overstepped a personal boundary.  Few people have encountered triplets in their lives.  Personally, before I became pregnant with triplets, I had never encountered a set of triplets, though I now know about 50 sets of triplets.  So it's not surprising that sometimes people don't know how to respond appropriately when they see triplets gallavanting around in public.  We do create quite a spectacle, especially when you add in the fact that we have a fourth child as well.  And let's face it, our kids are so freakin' cute that it's hard not to notice them.  I understand this, and I understand we have a certain obligation to our adoring public. 

So there we are in Target, minding our own business.  We've already gotten a few nods and smiles and "Oh my's" as we've made our way about 50 feet into the store.  I was pushing the double stroller with the girls strapped in and I was wearing Sam in the mei tai.  J was walking next to me and Seth was pushing the cart in front of us.  J was distracted by the gift wrap aisle all of a sudden because he noticed that one of the gift bags had a Transformer on it, so the triplets and I stopped to "ooh" and "aah" at it with him while Seth waited ahead of us.  I told J that a boy would be very lucky to receive a present in that gift bag, but we weren't going to buy it today.  We were in the aisle for about 15 seconds, before I turned to get back out of it. 

Standing behind me, obviously annoyed that we were blocking the aisle was a woman and her (presumably) husband probably in their late 50's or early 60's, blocking me in.  I excused myself and asked if we could get by so that we could let her get through.  No sooner was my back turned and I was probably no more than a foot away from her, did she turn to her husband and say, "Well that's just a few too many!"

Excuse me?  Huh Wha?    My four perfectly well behaved children were doing exactly what to grate on your nerves?  Because really, I woke up one morning and thought to myself, "Golly, I think I'd like to have an extremely high risk pregnancy and have three babies all at once just so that a year later I can annoy a lady in Target."  How dare she?  Couldn't she at least have waited until I was out of earshot?  Or at least until my five year old was out of earshot?  What a witch!

But all was not lost.  We got the things we went in for, and bless Target for having enormous elevators that can accommodate 2 adults, a five year old, a shopping cart, a double stroller, and another baby strapped to mama.  We got lots of smiles and coos and happy comments.  And on our way out, one woman with a single infant passed by me and said, "Congratulations!  It must be so hard for you!"  I smiled and said, "Oh no!  They are easy, and so much fun!"  And I meant it.

A few too many, indeed.

No Zen This Week

This week I went alone to our parenting class because our babysitter couldn't make it and I wasn't able to find a back up in time.  So I was driving along to the class and I was nearing my exit on the highway when the exit signs started to get blurry.  Then the license plates on the cars in front of me got blurry.  I could still see well enough to distinguish cars and lanes and such, but things weren't clear enough to read.  I got off the highway and my vision cleared up.  I called Seth and he suggested that it was probably a migraine aura, indicating I was about to get a migraine.  He was right, of course, but this was a very unusual aura for me.  I was only a few blocks from the class, so I got to the building and parked, got out of the car, and everything went completely blurry again.  If things had been this blurry while I'd been driving, I absolutely would not have been able to continue driving.  I got into the lobby of the building and the doctor teaching the class was standing there and he asked how I was and I said, "You know?  Not so great; I've got this funny vision thing going on and I really can't see anything."  I explained that I was fairly certain it was a migraine coming on and I needed to take medicine and see if that stopped the migraine from coming on, but that there wasn't much else to be done.

We got up to the board room, and I dug through my purse for pain medication.  I handed the bottle to Dr. S. and asked him what it said (I really couldn't read it) and he confirmed it was what I was looking for, so I took two, and sat down and class started.  I must say, I have absolutely no idea what was said in that class.  I know some questions were asked.  I know I answered some of them.  I was sitting right next to Dr. S.  I interacted.  I listened.  I didn't read my handout, because it hurt my eyes to try.  And I retained absolutely nothing from the entire class. 

Halfway through the class, I called Seth and told him that although my vision was clearing up, I was in excrutiating pain and wasn't sure whether I'd be able to drive by the time class was over.  I was afraid if I waited until the end to decide, I would find myself stranded there.  Fortunately, his mother had just come back with J, so she was able to stay at the house with all the kidderoonies, while he came to pick me up.  I sat through most of the rest of class trying to absorb some of the details of the class, but not really able to focus through the pain.

Finally, just as Dr. S was finishing up his portion and right before we broke into the parent discussion session (the last half hour is just parent discussion facilitated by a social worker, without Dr. S.), Seth arrived.  Seth handed me two tylenol with codeine, and then we went outside to assess whether I could drive home with him following me.  Dr. S. came out and suggested that this would be a very bad idea.  I didn't want to leave my car out there because it would make things very difficult for me the next day, but I also knew that driving probably wasn't really wise in case my vision went all wonky again.  Fortunately, Dr. S. doesn't have an advanced degree for nothing, and he was smart enough to suggest that another couple in the class might live near us and probably drove together. 

Indeed, they did drive together, and they were kind enough to drive my van home after class had finished, so Seth and I went home in his car. 

Later I read the handouts from class and realized that the topic of discussion was "Motivation through Positive Attention" - giving lots of positive attention and praise to your child for positive behaviours.  Fortunately, this happens to be one of my strong suits as a parent already, so I think I'm good.  Plus, I'm seeing Dr. S. tomorrow, so I can always ask him any questions I need to. 

In other annoying medical news, today I had to get a steroid shot in my hand because it has really hurt to bend my pinky for about 2 months.  Now it really, REALLY hurts to bend my pinky.  Thanks a lot, Doc.  (I'm hoping that the LONG term effect is an overall positive effect and that the pain from the shot is temporary)

The Last Word on Infertility

I'm not going to write  on this blog any more about this stage of our infertility journey.  I may still post occasionally about the topic in general.  After all, infertility is a large part of my identity now.  But this stage of the journey won't be posted here; I'll be posting elsewhere. 

This includes the details of my appointment with the RE yesterday, which didn't go as well as I'd hoped, but didn't go as badly as I feared it might, so all in all, it was a wash, so to speak. 

I know it's ridiculous that I'm starting Yet Another Blog (YAB), but I just can't think of another solution.

Time In: The Zen of Parenting

We're taking a class entitled "Parenting the Challenging Child," that is being taught by our developmental pediatrician.  It's interesting, actually, because many of the techniques and philosophies being presented in the class are things that he has already presented to us in our appointments with him, but now we are seeing them presented in a much more methodical manner, rather than in the more bandaid-approach we've been getting. 

One of the key philosophies of the course is that techniques like "time-out" and ignoring undesireable behaviors only work effectively if it is time-out from positive attention.  So before adding the negative, reactive strategies to our parenting toolkit, so to speak, we are building our strategies for positive, proactive strategies.  Last week, we talked about the importance of "Time In." 

Time in is much what it sounds like - in many ways it's the opposite of a time out.  It is time spent with your child, but it's more than that.  It's not just ANY time spent with your child.  There are rules, you see.  Time in isn't an opportunity to teach.  It's not a time to discipline.  It's not a time to be a parent, per se.  It's a time to let your child BE a child, and for you to spend time with your child BEING that child.  You don't answer the phone, you don't do dishes or make dinner in the kitchen while you're half-paying attention to what your child is doing in the other room.  You don't ask any questions, you don't give any instructions.  Unless your child tries to do something truly dangerous like lighting the cat on fire, you don't issue any reprimands.  This time (15-30 minutes a day, ideally) is completely child-led play time.  You should try to see the world through your child's eyes for this brief period of time.  Instead of asking questions about what your child is doing, you should comment on, or narrate, what your child is doing, give lots of positive praise, and play along, or take directions from your child, but really let your child lead the way.  Your child should be the one to decide what happens during this time, you shouldn't be the one dictating any of the activities or the nature of the play.  Like I said, hard as it may be, this is not a time for teaching moments, or for interrogations (no questions!!  This is the hardest part!), or for reprimands.  Make sure that you've got a child-safe and child-friendly environment where your child is free to act like a child free from admonishments to not touch that, or not go there, or not do that, or whatnot. 

Get the idea?

This wasn't my first introduction to the concept of Time In.  Several books discuss the concept; most recently when I read Russell Barkely's "Taking Charge of ADHD" I was reminded that we should be practicing the art of Time In.  Dr. S. had emphasized the importance of Time In during our office visits.  But I'm not good at Time In.  I'm okay with generally spending time with my kids.  But this specific kind of Time In technique?  Not my strong suit.  Seth?  Seth is great at it.  He's a natural at this kind of Zen Parenting where you can just let your kid be a kid and let all the parenting instincts and teaching moments and reprimands go.  Seth gets in the moment and crawls around on the floor and builds legos and wrestles and lets J lead the way.  Me?  If you take away my questions, my teaching moments, my ability to lead in any way... I get tense.  There's no Zen of Parenting in Time In for me.  So the whole Time In thing has naturally fallen to Seth, not really on purpose, but because it's his strength and my weakness.  We're a team and we play to our strengths, right?

But that's cheating, according to Dr. S, and we have to learn to share responsibility and share the fun.  So last week, after our class on Time In, our homework was to practice our Time In technique.  Mommy isn't used to not doing well on her homework, so I was determined to make this work!  Thus began my first foray into the world of Time In. 

J was playing with Transformers and I started to play with him.  He didn't like what I was doing, so he switched Transformers with me.  I hate Transformers, passionately, so I was sort of at a loss for what to do or say.  "Golly what a nifty Transformer, and gee, how deliciously violent this game is" somehow seemed terribly inadequate.  I was tense and fairly miserable.  "Grr!" I said.  "My guy is attacking your guy!"  "No he's not," J said, "My guy has a shield and he blocked your guy! Take that! Kablam! Kablam!"  I stifled the urge to remind J that we don't like him making shooting sounds.  "Um, well, then my guy has shields too and um, your weapons can't penetrate them!"  "No, your guy doesn't have shields, and now I shot him," J countered.  This wasn't going well. 

"Gosh, J, this is a really neat Transformer!  Can you show me how to make him back into the sports car??"  Whoops!  The Time In Purist would be tapping the table to remind me that I'd just broken the cardinal rule of Time In... not only had I asked a question, but I'd redirected the play.  Fortunately, it didn't backfire this time.  "Oh yeah, look at this, Eema!  It is SO cool!  You do it like this, and you move that around, and then you..."

 I gradually became more comfortable playing with him, and we chased each other around the living room.  I became a giant transformer-eating monster, waving my arms about and stomping my feet in Frankenstein-like movements toward him. 

And then it happened.  I finally experienced the true moment of Zen Parenting:

J jumped up onto the couch, bounced over onto the chair, jumped to the automan, bounced back over to the couch and climbed onto the back of the couch and declared himself the winner (winner of what?  I'm not really sure).  J knows that my absolute most non-negotiable rule in the living room is that he may not climb up on the furniture and bounce around on it as if it is a playground.  He knows it is a sure-fire way to test what kind of mood I'm in.  But just as I was about to remind him to get off the couch, I remembered that would be against the rules.  Not only did I not have to reprimand him right then and there, I wasn't allowed to.  He wasn't in immediate danger, the cat wasn't about to be set on fire, it was time to just let this one go. 

In that moment I felt like all my tension just went out of my body and I was free.  Finally I could just let J be J.  I could just be with him and see the world from his perspective - perched upon the back of the couch, and you know what?  It looked really nifty from up there.  I understood what drove him to be up there, for just a moment.  For that moment I didn't have to be the mean old mom who has all these rules.  I got to be the cool mom who overlooked that relatively minor infraction in the grand scheme of things.  And then?  The giant transformer-eating monster scooped in, picked him up off the back of the couch, tickled him, and wrestled him down to the floor, giggling madly, with nary a reprimand to be heard.  Mission accomplished.  No arguments.  No fighting.  No pushbacks.  And without missing even a second of quality time with my son.

Since then, I've made it a point to spend time differently with J, even when it isn't specifically Time In time.  I try to be more animated while I'm talking with him, I let him lead the discussions more, I respond to the things that he's saying and I try not to just say, "uh huh" when he's talking about something I couldn't care less about (like transformers).  Even if I'm feeding the babies and he's standing there talking to me, I can still make him feel like he's got a few minutes, or even seconds, of my absolute, undivided attention.  And it's making all the difference in the world.

Transitions, Milestones, and Progress

We moved the nursery upstairs about a week and a half ago.  My three precious babies aren't just three steps away from my bedroom anymore.  Seth is in heaven; I am traumatized.  I thought I'd be over it by now, but I'm really not.  I admit it's nice having all four kids upstairs together.  It's nice having our own space downstairs, as we'd intended all along.  It's nice that J isn't all alone anymore.  Certainly, the babies haven't noticed any difference.  But...  it's so different at night - I'm so accustomed to hearing Sam's little sighs through the night, Ellie's cute little coos, and Abby's cries (Abby?  Not such a fan of sleeping). 

Our morning routine is completely different now, too.   It used to be that pretty soon after the first sounds we heard in the morning, Seth would get up and start changing diapers.  He'd change Sam first, and bring him to me to nurse.  Then he'd change Ellie and Abby, and bring me Ellie to nurse, and put Sam in the nursery to play while he offered Abby a cup of milk which she usually refused.  Now we hear them wake up, but we usually let them talk to each other for a while (and sometimes they even fall back to sleep!).  After J comes down to tell us he's awake, we tell him to go get dressed for school, and we go upstairs to get moving with the day.  Depending on whether Seth is still home (he often has to be at the hospital at an ungodly hour of the morning), we either split baby and J-man duties or I take care of it.  '

But first thing's first:  I open up the nursery door, and three beautiful, smiling, gorgeous heads pop up from their cribs.  These bright-eyed, bushy tailed, amazing babies never fail me.  They greet me with such joy and unconditional, overflowing love every single morning that I can't help but wonder why I ever questioned how I could handle triplets.  I wish, in those first few days or weeks of my pregnancy, when I was completely panicked about the prospect of getting through a triplet pregnancy and triplet parenthood, that someone could have adequately expressed to me how incredible a feeling it is a year later to have those three enormous grins shining at you when you open their door in the morning.  Or how unique an experience it is to sit down on the living room floor and have three enthusiastic babies giggling and crawling as fast as they can, racing to be the first one into your lap and climbing up to be the first one to get kisses.  I'm sure those experiences are incredible with one baby.  But they are nearly indescribable with three babies. 

Back to the nursery.

So you can see, this transition to the nursery is not entirely bad, it's just... different.  Once all the diapers are changed, we let the babies roam free for a while.  No more baby pit, you see.  The whole first floor (sans the kitchen, bathroom, and J's room) are baby proofed (for the most part).  I get J his morning medicine and then I nurse Sam and Ellie before I get the babies into high chairs for breakfast, about which time my nanny usually arrives (if it's a weekday) and takes over.   With the big difference in morning routine, it does making nursing the babies harder to squeeze in, and sometimes, it just gets skipped - I think we're getting closer and closer to weaning.   

So it's not an entirely bad transition, it's just a change.  And we all know how well I deal with change.

Hah.

In other news, Sam is completely walking.  He rarely crawls, but when he does, it's incredibly cute, and I keep thinking I should get it on video before I lose my chance.  I probably never will, and I'll regret it.  Ellie has become quite a good walker, as well, though not nearly as steady as Sam.  She's catching up though.  Abby, who had steadfastly refused to even STAND, let alone walk, took three steps on Monday without me there to even see, the little traitor.  How dare she?  She promised me she wouldn't walk yet!  How could she do this to me?  Who gave her permission to walk?  Certainly not me!  Anyway, I think it was a fluke, because she hasn't done it since, and she hasn't even stood up without support, so I don't think it's something she's keen on repeating any time soon.

All three babies have been varying degrees of sick the past couple weeks.  They all had a cold that wouldn't quit for about 3 1/2 weeks.  The girls got ear infections and sinusitis.  Sam skipped that, but then developed a four day 102 degree fever.  He was so sad - he wouldn't eat or play, he just sat in our laps sucking his pacifier and holding his beloved elephant blankie.  I normally don't let him suck on a pacifier except during naptime or bedtime, but that's all he wanted, and I thought it was only fair.  Poor baby.  But everyone is all better now, or so it seems, so here's hoping.  J also had a cold and his normal reactive airway/asthma type stuff along with that, but fortunately, even though he won't take his ADHD medicine without a fight, he LOVES taking his inhaler, so at least THAT isn't a fight! Whew!

J is doing really well.  I'm really proud of what a great big brother he is and how well he's doing in school and with speech therapy.  He's such a loving, creative soul and wants to do well.  I'll write more about it in a separate post, but we're taking a parenting class on "Parenting the Challenging Child" given by our Developmental Pediatrician, and we realized that so many of the things that made J challenging are already less of a challenge just in the couple of months that we've been working with the developmental pediatrician - and I'm just so proud of J for the progress that he's made.  The class is still incredibly helpful and it's good to see the material presented in a very methodical way, instead of the more bandaid approach we'd been getting it in our appointments with the pediatrician, but I feel so much less like we need this DESPERATELY than I did two months ago when we first registered for the class (though it only started 3 weeks ago).

Threshold

I just realized that I have crossed the threshold into adulthood.  What gave it away, you ask?  It wasn't the house, the student loans, the minivan, the "real job" I go to every day, the board positions I hold.  No, it wasn't even the four kids, the PTA meetings, the soccer-mom status. 

Nope, it was none of that.  It was the giant pile of leaves I just raked to the side of the street.  That may seem rather mundane to you.  But as I briefly contemplated jumping into it, I realized I would just have to rake it back up if I jumped into it and scattered it about.

What a terribly boring, adult thing to think. 

Bah.

Perhaps next week I'll rake a pile for the J-man and live vicariously through him. 

Clapping

Sam and Ellie can clap now! Abby can't clap yet, but she's willing to try the one-handed-clap! :)

(note if you're getting this via email subscription, you probably need to go to the blog to see the embedded video)

Politics through the Eyes of a Five Year Old

This post is otherwise entitled "The only political post I ever plan to write."  Though I have much to say about the political environment today, I just don't have the will to stir up that much controversy. 

The J-man's school was used as a polling place, but they didn't close the facility, because the polling area was relatively small in comparison to the facility.  It was great, because the kids got to see what a polling place looks like and they held a mock election in the class.  First, they voted on what snack they would have that day so that they could learn what voting was all about, and then they had a mock presidential election.  All the kids got to vote for who they wanted for president.

So we asked J who he voted for:

J:  John McCain
Me:  What made you decide to vote for John McCain?
J:  All my friends were voting for him.
Me:  And what made them decide to vote for John McCain?
J:  He's the coolest.
Me:  Oh!  Well, that's a very good reason.  Do you know who actually won the election?
J:  Who?
Me:  Barack Obama.
J:  Oh yeah!  Our whole class voted for him!
Me:  Sure, for varying degrees of "whole." 
J:  Why did he win?
Me:  Well, 52% of the registered voters who actually voted on election day voted for him.
J:  Who did Abba vote for?
Me:  Well, you'll have to ask him, but he doesn't have to tell you if he doesn't want to; we have anonymous balloting in the United States.
J:  Abba?  Did you vote?
Seth:  Yes, J, I voted.
J: Well, did you vote for John McCain?
Seth:  Er, No.
J:  Did you vote for Bark Obama?
Seth:  Yes, I did.
J:  Oh, that was a very good idea, all of my friends voted for him, and my whole class voted for him, and half of the class voted for John McCain. 
Seth (aside):  Coming soon?  Fractions!
Me:  So, who did you vote for, exactly?
J:  Well, some of us voted for John McCain and some of us voted for Bark Obama. 
Seth:  Did any of you vote for Ralph Nader?
J:  I don't know.  Is he president?
Me:  He was a presidential nominee.
J:  Well, we didn't vote for him.
Seth:  Did any of you vote for Dr. Mellow?
J:  Who's that?
Me:  He's a friend of ours who ran a write-in campaign on a single-issue platform of abolishing Daylight Savings Time.
J:  What's a platform?
Me:  It's what you say you will do if you become president.
J:  Well, you know what I will do when I become president?  I will have lots of toys.
Me:  Oh, that's an interesting platform.  And what will you do for the American people? 
J:  I will play with the toys!

So there you have it, folks!  When J becomes president (of course, he won't be qualified for another 30 years, since you have to be 35 to run for president), he will have lots of toys.  And he will play with them.    That ought to solve the world's problems.