PDG in K!

PDG is now three weeks into the life of a Kindergartener. I'm not quite sure how it happened this fast, or how it's no longer the weirdest concept possible that my baby boy is in school all day.

There's obviously been a lot of build-up to this point. First, I had to figure out where he'd attend, and as past posts explain, moving to Woodbridge ended up the best option I could fathom given the factors. Our neighborhood is pretty diverse, meaning the school within walking distance is also a mix of black and white and brown and all sorts of languages and cultures. The big kids that ran the townhouse community gang on their bikes all summer, now keep an eye out for PDG and the other younger ones in the halls. PDG loves the days he sees his big friends around, just like he likes absolutely everything about school.

Take that back. Bathrooms. We're still working on liking, and therefore using, public bathrooms. But let's be honest, what adult actually likes using public restrooms either?

The first event of the summer was registration and assessment. Apparently PDG rocked the reading and numbers portion, but when it came time to cut with scissors, my little perfectionist wanted to cut exactly in the center of the line, which predictably did not happen. This led to a shut-down pouting face that you've likely seen if you've seen PDG fail in even the slightest bit at anything. Luckily, his teacher Mrs D is amazing and already knew he'd be in her class, so she gave him a pep talk and encouraged us to keep using scissors at home for a while.

Two weeks later JG and I attended orientation where PDG got to practice going through the lunch line and then went off to ride a school bus with all the other Kindergarteners. Meanwhile the grownups sat in their tiny seats and filled out a bunch more forms and learned again about what we can send for snack and how the classroom is set up. It got more and more real. And emotions of all sorts about my family came bubbling up and out.

The first day the boys woke up at my house and we hurried around like usual to get out on time. Fantastically "on time" is 25 minutes later than last school year, but still early. Due to a wait list situation that still isn't resolved, PDG goes to his old daycare with MDG in the mornings, and then Miss S walks him to the school (she's in walking distance too!). For the first day, however, JG escorted him and I charged him with taking tons of pictures so I could live vicariously while I gave my first day spiel to my own scared new freshmen (and lots of nervous upperclassmen too). I checked my phone a ton to find all of these.

Since then my favorite part of each weekday is picking up MDG, driving the half mile to PDG's school, and then walking to the entrance and waiting for Mrs D's class to come out. It's all so organized, and reminds me daily why I prefer high school to these tiny tots. They walk with their mouths full of air like puffer fish and their arms folded before standing backpacks against the wall in the same order every day. Kindergarteners have to be released directly to a parent, so once Mrs D sees me, she calls PDG's name and he runs over, grabs my hand, and I pepper him with questions. There's almost always a huge smile followed by "I dunno" or  "I don't remember" to every question I ask. When he does start to remember, I get filled in on details of "clipping up" which is part of a positive rewards system, an overview of lunch or specials (art has been rocky so far), minor tattles on the girl at his table who talks too much and occasionally clips down, and snippets of songs about the calendar, letters of the alphabet or his new favorite book: Chicka Chicka Boom Boom.

MDG loves to see the crossing guard as we walk from the car to the entrance and back again, and entertains the other parents and waiting little siblings. We take a break from learning to relax in our downstairs "imagination station" with no screens for a while. Then there's dinner or playing outside, or some PBS Kids apps, or baths before 20 minutes of reading and bedtime and repeat.

I can't believe he's so big, but I also can't imagine a better Kindergarten experience so far.  And hey, if he ever does go #2 at school, an hour of solo iPad time awaits.

Race Lesson Number One

Well, folks, the day has come. My PDG has made the inevitable discovery that he's black. I thought I might have another year before I'd start this complex peeling back of the layers of race with him, but alas it's started coming into focus over the past few weeks and just keeps on popping up.

In some ways it's cute. He thinks it's so weird that people would call him black when he clearly isn't. In fact, he's figured out just which brown crayon in the big box we each are. MDG and I share the same one. His own is one shade lighter and J-Man's the lightest. He has no color words yet to describe our white friends and neighbors. As for the preposterous black/white binary system, he is slowly conceding that we are dark enough to fall into "black" but still thinks his dad is more "blackish whitish." It's all the cute naivete of every kid ever saying "But no one is really black or white, Mommy!"

Tragically pairing his recent realization of race with the news the past month has been devastating. How do you look at your beautiful black son with bright brown eyes and a smile that stretches across his whole face and then hear about more unnecessary killing of black men at the hands of scared police officers? How do you decide when to start mentioning that the policemen we love to point out as "being helpers" or "keeping people safe" might decide that their own presumed lack of safety is someone else's death sentence? Especially if that someone else has skin like ours. Worse if it's darker like their grandfathers' or Big Bro's.

It's been weeks since those terrible two days in a row of Alton Sterling and Philandro Castile and I'm still tearing up about it. It's like the weeks after watching Eyes on the Prize in 8th grade and trying to rid my brain of the horrific images. Beatings. Lynchings. Emmett Till.

Let's step back from those horrors though, because understanding race is gradual and nuanced. First there are going to be the additional questions he'll start to have. We live in a white neighborhood. We go to a mostly white church. We have friends of color, but live a comfortable middle-class life which can make that line of identifying as "black enough" feel out of reach, even when almost every day he will look and feel much blacker than the majority of the people around him. How can we explain how deep blackness penetrates despite how light the surface of his skin might be?

I remember figuring out my blackness. (Ha! I just wrote that, as if I've actually figured out my blackness. Yeah, right.) Better said, I remember starting to figure out my blackness. Some years I was the only black kid at my 180-student private school. Definitely the only black Mormon family in my childhood congregation. I've spent my own life wondering if I'm just the token. How many people name me as their one black friend? How many times have I been in photos like this one, where even the camera doesn't know what to do with me?

I want to tell my sweet boy how being black is not anything to ever feel ashamed of or annoyed by. How he is beautiful, and not because he's light-skinned and stuck with that baggage of being fetishized by all the people who love caramel complexions (because they aren't too dark or sound delicious or whatever?). I want him to find pride in himself and his family without the burden of anger when he begins to understand the circumstances his ancestors endured. I don't want anyone to call him the n-word and have that be a defining moment of his life. I don't want the feeling of otherness to shadow his childhood. I don't want him to wonder if his accomplishments shouldn't be valued because someone quoted anti-affirmative action propaganda and the words "reverse racism" when he succeeded. I don't want him to decide over and over again how hard to defend his right to be smart or articulate or creative or promoted, or not to be athletic or a great dancer or the end-all expert on African American studies.

I want all of that and yet, I don't know what that life could possibly look like because I've spent the past thirty-two years wanting the exact same things for myself.

My greatest solace is that I have years to help him understand this all. He doesn't have to know tomorrow how race is a construct. We can wait until elementary school to flush out the words slavery and segregation. And maybe by the time we delineate between stereotypes, prejudice, and racism the world will be a little kinder, the policies a little more reasonable, and the news stories of inhumanely treated black men a rarity met with honest to goodness justice for all.

PDG Turns Four!

Well, it happened. My little baby PDG got all grown on me and now is a whopping four years old. He's still my little PDG Pie though, and I still want to eat him up!

At any rate, turning four apparently means a lot of celebrating. I mean, there was the sleepover the week before, and then the anticipation of a daily countdown from then until the 12th.

On Friday we took some cupcakes (because PDG insisted that this year he wanted cupcakes and cake) to his daycare. All the big kids happily sang to him, especially knowing they got a treat for having done absolutely nothing. That's the best part about birthdays right - getting treats just for existing? Even better when it's just for someone else existing.

Saturday PDG awoke fully aware it was the big day, and unable to contain his excitement. By the time Mama and Papa H arrived, we knew there'd be no nap. Instead, we made cupcakes.

Before the official party at 5pm, we had to give in and do some presents early because somebody just coud not wait another minute.

Sidenote: PDG's current fascination with puzzles is driving J-Man's fight against tiny toy pieces struggle to the limits.

We decided on a not-quite party this year. Paw Patrol ribbon, TMNT napkins, and Batman plates with a random pin the tail on the donkey and tons of fruit and pizza made for an odd assortment of decorations and a menu.

PDG loved it though. LOVED it. And with his very very best friend Lil O, as well as his neighborhood church crew and a happy-to-tag-along Charlie, it was the most kid activity our backyarad has seen yet. And by far the most our living room has endured. Thank heavens for Lego Movie on DVR to keep us warm as the sun started to set.

All in all, a great day celebrating a great kid.

And before I forget, his stats. He's 40lbs even - 81% - and 44 inches tall - 98%. He could answer most of the doctor's questions, but clearly I need to get him a tutor so he knows how to answer "what gallops?" next time. (Honestly, can doctors give us a cheat sheet ahead of time so I can teach to the test? Not that I do that as a teacher or anything, but my competitive edge totally took over and I really wanted my kid in the 99% in the 'random doctor questions at a checkup' category too. I'm just sayin'...)

Hugs and kisses to my big little baby.

Sadmark Mall

The mall where I get my hair done is the saddest place on earth. This has nothing to do with my own feelings about getting my hair done. It's just really empty, and really depressing.

It shouldn't be quite so bad. It's easily accessible from 395, has tons of parking, three stories, a Macy's... you'd think the shops would stick around. Instead the shops are mostly hair-related. Salons, barber shops, wig shops, eyebrow threading, etc. Besides that, just a lot of empty, boarded up commercial space.

So based on previous experiences at this mall, we've decided there are only four reasons a person ventures here

1. hair business
2. speedwalking in constant circles
3. the small toddler play area
4. chick-fil-a

Unsurprisingly, #3 tends to lead into #4. Except, when we went last weekend during the great Snowzilla Thaw, we hung out with KB's and another family, until the kids started getting bored and hungry and wandering away. We happily put shoes back on, headed up the escalators to the food court to find... Cajun Mongolian. Everything else was out of business. No frozen lemonade and nuggets for this lot.

I felt badly for the lady from Cajun Mongolian, the place where J-Man would have happily eaten regardless of CFA's fate. She tried her best to lure us over with samples with no luck. As our three families stood, trying to make pre-meltdown lunch plans for the kiddos, we watched her try and fail to convince the next few groups of people riding up the escalator to find the same sad fate of our tasty lunch dreams. They were equally disappointed and uninterested in a replacement.

We soon trudged out of the mall en route to a cheap buffet in hopes that we'd all get full enough for Saturday naps,  and J-Man told me he didn't want to ever come back. Not that the kids were bad or he misses juicy chicken sandwiches, but the place just makes him sad. Deeply, profoundly, sad.

But let's face it, depressing as it may be, I'll be back. Even without a chick-fil-a, my house is too small to survive winter without the occasional sad or strange indoor play area. We'll just pack some sandwiches next time and pretend malls are supposed to be that devoid of actual economic activity.

Potties and Pull-ups and Poops and PDG

It's decided. Potty training is the worst.

Let's add this to the list of parenting downers that no one tells you about.  Or at least, no one told me about.

I know some kids are just easy to train.  And some parents are probably better at recognizing when a kid is (the mystically elusive) "ready." Still. This seems like it shouldn't be so hard. And if it's gonna be so hard, why didn't anybody say something?!

Here's our journey so far -

1) over Christmas break declare we will be a diaper free household (obviously premature, but sometimes I aim to be the overachiever)

2) proclaim how awesome PDG is (and by default J-Man and I) when he mastered peeing in like two days

3) remain in denial when he became terrified of pooping on the toilet and saved it for a few rare night/nap diapers over those two weeks

4)feel defeated when he pooped his pants the first day back in daycare and I had to be informed he needed to stay in pullups until this was handled

5)get confused when the return to pullups also somehow caused more mini-accidents

6) wonder when my ever-regular, twice-a-day-pooper kid decided to transition into a poop-hating, backed-up, toilet-fearer

7) complain woefully to J-Man that PDG will never ever learn to just sit down and poop! (despite that somewhere during steps 1-6 he did have some success and earn lots of cookies and jelly beans and mama dances and hi-fives)

8) eventually agree that ok, maybe he will learn one day.  and it will be on his terms. and when he does eventually learn, it will be all the sweeter. and maybe in some cosmic parenting balance, it will all mean that MDG will be super easy to train. I mean, he already grabs the potty-seat, stands on the stool, and pulls down his pants. Not bad for 13 months.

Anyway, this is all to say that I have no clue what we're doing, or how many more times PDG will announce "I didn't poop my pants. I pooped my pullup!" when at a park or the Burger King playplace, or the car outside of daycare. We'll get there. And then I can stop being the mom who talks too much about poop. I mean, this is me holding back. Yikes!

But also, how great will it be when extended stays in the bathroom can look only like this?!

If PDG Made a Mixtape

We're all caught up on MDG, but what about big brother you ask?

Well, PDG chats up a storm these days, with the majority of his full sentences being short commands. You know - "Mommy, get up now," or "Stop it, Daddy. No singing." It's both cute and oppressive at once. When ignored, he'll eventually soften his voice and add a please to the end. Not quite a question, but gentler request nonetheless.

Along with all the talking has come an ability to express himself through song, and to state "I like it" to affirm his favorites when he hears them. So, based on what he requests at bedtime and naptime, what he is later caught singing to himself, and what makes him clap his hands and say "yay!" I have compiled this list of PDG's top hits.

(Also, the pictures at the bottom are from a recent trip to National Harbor. They didn't quite warrant a post of their own, but I liked them. So, yeah.)

In no particular order...

The ABC's - careful with this one.  We use it to brush teeth and have changed the last line to "now we're done brushing PDG's teeth." If you sing the original, expect a blank stare, possibly inherited from his mother's bag-o-looks.

You Are My Sunshine - shortened to "Sunshine" and sung on repeat with "sunshine" being replaced by MDG and PDG's names to keep it fresh.

I Love to See the Temple - the best is when he requests for J-Man to sing this children's song from church. Talk about freestylin' lyrics...

Popcorn Popping - Another church one, though requested less now that spring is behind us and there are less blossoms to inspire it.

Let it Go - Come on, you didn't think I could not buy the Frozen soundtrack and play it on repeat did you?

No Flex Zone - As I type this PDG is singing to himself, with all the right emphasis, "No flex... zone! No flex... zone! They knoooow better." Operation raise-kids-loving-rap-and-musical-soundtracks is going well so far.

Anything Katy Perry - Don't judge.

And lastly, Dynomite - Because what two year old doesn't want to throw his hands in the air and say "ay-o, baby let's go"?

Having fun, I swear

See that Ferris Wheel? PDG has asked to go on it again almost every day since - a solid two weeks

A great day with my boys, up in the air. And a real smile from PDG. 

Checkup: 4 and 24 months

This past week I took PDG and MDG to a combined doctor's appointment.  In theory it made things easier to just have one long appointment instead of two separate ones.  Plus it meant only taking a half day from my nearly nonexistent sick leave.

In actuality, the appointment might've been more exhausting than teaching 6th period would have been.  And that was with PDG being a superstar listener and getting compliments on his temperament.

Much like PDG's 4 month appointment, the doctor was running late.  I answered all the nurse's questions while trying to strip two boys down to diapers.  We got them measured and weighed and then just waited. 

Thank heavens for sticker books.  Otherwise there would have undoubtedly been meltdowns.  Mama G and PDG alike.

So - the stats.  PDG weighs 31lbs 2oz and measures 36in.  That's 88th and 91st percentiles.  Little man isn't all that little!

MDG weighs 16lbs and measures 25.25in, right around 60th percentile for both.  Somehow I thought he'd be bigger.

Both are healthy.  MDG's cradle cap is finally gone, thanks to Aquafor, and PDG's eczema is getting better with the same treatment.  MDG got the go ahead for solids and supposedly his sleep isn't *that* bad.

Overall both boys are fantastic.  And despite the crying that did ensue while trying to get them both dressed again post-shots, we survived the trip pretty unscathed.

As for likes and dislikes, here's what we've got:

MDG's likes: tummy sleeping, rolling belly-to-back, being nosey, smiling, laughing, jumparoo/exersaucers, rice cereal, MAM pacifiers, watching PDG play

MDG's dislikes: his carseat, not being able to see people, being on his back for any reason at all

PDG's likes: talking nonstop, saying letters and numbers, juice when he gets it, riding on toys, climbing anything, 'belly beans,' books, helmets, attempting tee-ball, stickers, babbling while falling asleep (no more mr. giraffe), being outside, his best friends Noah at daycare and Owen on the weekends, brushing teeth, his grandparents, entertaining MDG

PDG's dislikes: coming inside for dinner, leafy vegetables (still), getting into his carseat, getting dressed in the mornings

Two Years Old!!

Looky looky, guess who's two!

Yep, this guy...

Can't you see how thrilled he was that I was taking his photo at 5:30am?  At that point it was just another Wednesday morning.  Far enough into the week to be exhausted when I flipped on the light.  Maybe my singing didn't help?

PDG had a great day with his buddies at daycare.  Apparently they sang to him a bunch, and Ms S even got him a little gift.  He was certainly wound up when he got home.  By the time we finished all the Face Times and speakerphone conversations he was a tantrum-throwing terrible two for sure.  

We waited until Saturday for the party.  In part because the weather has been Crazy (yes, with a capital C) and also because Mama and Papa H would already be coming to babysit so it made sense.  Rather than a real party though, we went for the low key approach.  We invited over KB and Big and Lil Os and that was it.  Nice and simple.  The G way.

Yeah, this was a mere 36 hours before the snowfall of the last post, and we were happily playing in the backyard and having a picnic.  PDG understands gifts better since Christmas and Lil O happily helped him open the presents.  They are so adorable together!  Stickers, a current favorite, a train set, a Seahawks helmet, a trike, a teeball set and a fire truck are now a part of the endless collection of toys taking over our little house.  Each one made him super excited and confused that there could be anything else.

The boys played while we passed around MDG and soaked in the sun.  Having successfully worn themselves out for naptime, we did cupcakes with a candle and called it a day.  

It's crazy to realize how big this boy is getting.  He has so much to say and so many expressions and his first real friends.  Here's to another adventurous year watching him grow and learn and laugh.

Road Trip to LeJeune

Last weekend J-Man and I went on a road trip to see Lil Bro. He's now a Marine, having conquered boot camp, and is temporarily stationed at Camp LeJeune for MOS and other acronyms I don't know/can't remember.

Camp LeJeune is approximately 6 hours away by car. Can I just say, thank heavens I will never travel that distance with a two month old again. Phew!

The boys did great, all things considered. Despite PDG's new favorite word being "don't" and the fact that he is now forward facing and therefore kicks my passenger seat nonstop, we survived. And I guess MDG's two hour eating schedule did give us plenty of chances to stretch our legs.

The trip as a whole reminded me of our Vegas trip in 2012. The nights of horrible sleep in a hotel room. Pumped milk not surviving the hours without a fridge. Getting lost and frustrated beyond verbal expression. Some great smiles of a chubby baby on puffy hotel linens. A random food service worker holding my baby.

Some parts were very unlike Vegas though.  Namely, the energetic toddler in addition to a chubby, hungry baby.

PDG is almost two and talking constantly.  He knows all his capital letters, though forgets a few on any given day, and can identify some numbers.  I don't want to be the mom that pushes things like that too far, so we go on his cues and keep it a game.  His color recognition extends only to the four colors of the stickers we use on MDG's daycare bottles - yellow (lello), green, orange and pink.  Outside of that he's got nothing.  Or he's colorblind.  But most likely, it's just because colors are only interesting when stickers are involved, because apparently these days there is absolutely nothing better than stickers.  Well, maybe sausage.  

Oh, and last fun fact about PDG - he has started calling J-Man, "J-Man."  I mean, he calls him by his first name, but also, actually, "J-Man." That one started as an indecipherable "J-Mo" but within minutes had been adjusted and clear as day.  I guess J-Man doesn't call me by my first name as much, because he's the only one getting the new attention.  We think it's a phase.  At least, we hope it is.  Right now it's kinda adorable/annoying all in one, the way most toddler phases are.

So it was a good trip.  A good, long, exhausting trip.  I'm glad we went.  I'm glad we're home.  I'm glad J-Man had the week off while in-between jobs to help us both recover from it.  And I'm glad this next weekend we have no plans at all.

PDG at 21 months

Everyone told me my baby PDG would look huge once I held my newborn, and boy were they right!

The little boy I've spoiled and carried and rocked for nearly two years instantly looked like... a kid.  A big kid.

with his bff Lil O

He's 21 months old now, and he's doing a pretty great job being a big brother.  He gives kisses - even when the baby is sleeping and probably shouldn't be bothered - and likes to pat MDG's head softly.  He brings his mama diapers and wipes, then watches intently to see how MDG has the same parts he has, before disposing of the dirty diaper afterwards.  On occasion, he will try to shove a pacifier in his little brother's mouth, crying or not, and then decide to put it in his own mouth when MDG rejects it.  Hey - we can't expect perfection.

As for other updates, he's pretty into being outside.  As in, he LOVES being outside and cries hysterically when it's time to come back in.  We've ventured to the park a little since his brother's birth, but like any outing, getting two kids anywhere right now takes me like five times as long as it used to, and the cold is a definite deterrent.

His speech has continued taking off this month.  When he sees a phone or computer he begins repeating "elmo" as though electronics exist solely to bring him Sesame Street celebrity video clips.  And yes, ok, I've been letting him watch a little more than I'd like to admit.  Just surviving here.

He also has mastered bubbles, mess, blocks, ca-ca (jacket? or coat? or some combo?), doggies and mas (more please?), please and thank you (not just thanks anymore).  Plus a bunch of others I can't remember.  The bigger excitement is how he's putting them into sentences.  Like "thank you mama" or "there he is" or "love you dada" or the most frequent "made a mess" (by which he usually means - look mom, I poured out my milk by shaking it violently until it leaked and now I want to play with wipes to clean it up).

All in all I'm enjoying this phase he's in.  The more dramatic temper tantrums seem pretty age-appropriate and typical for no-longer-only-child adjustment. So we're taking it a day at a time and figuring out what two under two looks like for the next three months.  Oh, and thanking heaven that he still naps for 2-2.5 hours daily.

20 Months: Ending an Only Child Era

This week PDG turned 20 months.  This one is most exciting because, ever since I realized I was pregnant, I've been fairly certain that 20 months would be the age difference between big brother and little brother.  Which means, we are now in the month that MDG arrives!!!

So before all the focus switches over to little brother, let's enjoy a little more of this temporarily-only-child.

For example, he is trying so hard to be just like his da-da and ma-ma.  If we growl, he growls.  If we say "mmm-hmm" he says "mmm-hmm."  If we yawn, he opens his mouth wide to yawn.  If we close a drawer with our feet, he closes (or attempts to close) a drawer with his foot.

His language really is increasing exponentially.  He can say and point to eyes, ears, mouth, nose, teeth, feet, hands, and diaper.  He's tackled milk, 'nana, g'apes, apple, pump'in, doggy, cat, kak-kak (duck sounds), mess, poop poop (without context) and more I can't think of right now.

Speaking of poop poop, quick story.  The other night I had lots of back and side aches from good ol' braxton hicks that won't go away but won't start labor, so I decided to hop in PDG's bath.  We splashed and laughed and wiggled our toes.  Super cute right?  Then I called J-Man to help get him dry while I actually took a minute to wash for real.  J-Man picked him up and what did we see?!?!  That's right - poop poop.  Right there in the tub where he'd been sitting.  Grrr-osss!!!

Luckily, mamas have to have a sense of humor, and J-Man likes to "borrow" gloves from doctor offices, so we had the mental and physical needs to handle the situation.  Oh motherhood....

But back to PDG - he loved his halloween costume but was totally confused by the custom.  He tried to go inside every house we knocked on.  He became obsessed with the Halloween books Mama H brought him.  He discovered how great chocolate is.

Generally, he's given me all the reason in the world to smile.  And on days when it feels like this pregnancy is never-ending and I wonder why I put myself through this much discomfort, I look at him and remember why.  I hope I never forget the sound of his laughter, the look of delight on his face when he discovers something new, the way he whispers "hush" on the right pages of Goodnight Moon, and that goofy little dance of his.  No matter how many million times a day he says "mama no," he's a huge part of the reason I can say "yes" this mama is one happy mama indeed.

So now, MDG, if you wouldn't mind hurrying up, I'm ready to start writing about you too.