What happens in preschool stays...

That cliche is one of my least favorites, but it is so apt in this situation. We were talking about today's class when Phoebe told me "you don't know everything that I do at my school, Mom! Only what I tell you!" She was getting mad at me for asking probing questions to get her to tell me more about an activity they did with caterpillars. She is apparently very aware that school is something that is hers and she only lets me into that world if she wants to. Obviously, that is an important area of control.

lullaby

Phoebe was far from angelic today--in fact, she spent a lot of time in her room and in my bad favor because she can be incredibly stubborn when she wants to be. She is one of those people who will tell you the sky is yellow and the sun is blue just because she knows that is the opposite of what you want to hear. A perfect example of this is when my sister asked her to find the number 9 on a placemat. Phoebe didn't just refuse to identify the number. nope. She proceeded to point deliberately at every single number on the placemat except the number nine. Today, she decided that she did not want to participate in her swim lesson. It took her about 25 minutes before she would even get in the pool, and once she got in, she hopped right back out, because she told me "I am going to blow one bubble and then I am going to get out!" so that is exactly what she did. But I told her beforehand that she was not allowed to get in and out of the pool--if she got in, great; but if she got out, she stayed out. So when she hopped back out, she wasn't allowed to go back in. She had to sit on the bench with me and watch everyone else take their lesson. This made her very sad--or as she would say "very sad, indeed." So upset, that she sat on the bench and yelled "everyone get out of the pool. The lesson is over for everyone!" And other lovely sentiments. I sat on the bench and empathized occasionally saying that it is sad not to be allowed to do what her friends could do. She told me I was the Wicked Witch of the East. Much to my chagrin, I noticed several other parents sheltering a smile at the spectacle that is my daughter. One man even apologized for his little chuckle. These swim lessons have been a nightmare all along and quite the lesson in humility as most of the other swim parents probably think that I have parenting issues. Anyway, the day got worse with arguments and lack of cooperation at home, but--and there is a but with a silver lining--she was wonderful after her nap. She was cooperative and happy and she helped me make dinner. Brett has a terrible cold/fever, and after being gone all day at a track meet, he just wanted to rest and lie in bed. Phoebe wanted to be right with him, so they sat in bed reading stories for a while, and when it was time to go to sleep, I put Beckett in the crib and Phoebe in her bed, gave them kisses, turned on the stars, and pulled Beckett's little lullaby flower. Well when the flower ran out, he began to fuss, and instead of yelling at him or getting upset, Phoebe continued the lullaby and sang Twinkle Twinkle to him until he was quiet. It didn't take long at all--he began listening to her immediately and silence ensued. (They are in the same room.) While I was beside myself with irritation today, I also realize that I am so lucky to have such a loving, independent, beautiful little girl, and Beckett is lucky to have a sister who is going to blaze trails for him. (overambitious? maybe.) She'll definitely hold his hand and guide him, maybe a little bossily but overall, lovingly.

Ode to our Former President

As promised, here is another of my amazing poems. This one had to follow the rules of a ballad and had to include the words flip-flop and endangered. The poem is a bit more harsh than I would normally be, but I had to choose words that I might not have if I weren't trying to meet a particular syllable count or meter :) You wouldn't think it from reading it, but it took hours and hours to write, and Brett collaborated with me on the ideas--we brainstormed all of the things that we related to George Bush and then I included as many of them as possible in a rhyming ballad. (A ballad, by the way is traditionally about the demise of someone or something, so I chose the demise of the Bush administration.) And as much as I tried, I think I broke the most rules when writing this poem because I had trouble keeping my lines iambic--ah, well. Anyway, here it is:

The Ballad of 43

43 had great potential;
his daddy led the way.
Ivy education. No less.
Money was just for play.

All play and little work led to
battles with drugs and booze.
Too much fun with skulls and bones, his
exploits made the news.

But cowboy charm and pulling strings
got him out of trouble.
His daddy knew a few tricks to set
him straight on the double.

He made two important changes
soon as he got the nod.
He roved his way to politics
and then he found God.

Oil made him rich and powerful.
Everything went his way.
He even ran for governor;
elections were his forté.

“Why stop there?” he thought with vision.
“I have a right to bid.
I am heading straight for the top
just like my daddy did.”

By the luck of a hanging chad
he won his first election.
He became Commander-in-Chief
despite public selection.

His term began with a bang
An attack on his soil.
Ignoring the real cause, he thought,
“We must protect our oil.”

He answered back with great thunder.
Hubris got in the way.
“Mission accomplished!” he proclaimed,
but we’re still there today.

His ratings soared to 84
(but) plummeted just as quick
when the public began to cry,
“We are in this too thick!”

The people allowed for his flaws.
Again, he rose to the top.
Elected again with one phrase:
“My opponent flip-flops.”

Since then, however, there has been
crisis after crisis.
Katrina opened the flood gates.
That was the end of bliss.

Bumbling through with malaprops
of nuc-u-lar proportions.
Military ops are failing;
No plans for abortion.

Theological hypocrite,
his views make one wonder.
International terrorist,
tearing the land asunder.

Fuel prices reached a record high;
ANWR is endangered;
misery index has increased;
economy is bemired.

43, the levee’s broken,
and, unless you are blind,
acknowledge that your legacy
has left this nation behind.

Beckett's vices

"A is for Angry Ack. [...] His favorite snack is stinky socks with jam packed in the toes." from G is for One Gzonk

Like father like...

Working and playing

Phoebe Faces

Yummy! Sweet Potatoes

Mama

The most wonderful thing happened today--Beckett began saying mamamamamama as he was crying--and now he has done it twice--and he keeps practicing making the noise by smacking his lips together. It's so exciting! For some reason, I have not taken pictures of him sitting up, so I guess I should do that because he is pretty stable there now--except he did get a bruise this weekend because he was sitting on the bathroom floor when he leaned too far forward and went all the way down on his head--it was so sad. He didn't cry long, but I felt bad. He's too big/too mobile for his swing, so we took that down, and now he is enjoying sitting in his play pen. I put several of his toys in there and set it up in the middle of the kitchen so that he can play while I do dishes or cook dinner. He enjoys it until he falls over or lays back--then he gets mad because he can't right himself and sit up again. He isn't crawling, yet, but he has the desire to move, so I just have to keep providing him motivation and he'll get going soon, I'm sure. We had a great weekend visiting the Garfield Park Conservatory for their 'sweet Saturdays' where they provide facts about the plants that they have that produce sweet food and provide samples of those sweets as well. It was almost as good as the chocolate fest last year :) And we went to the zoo yesterday--I have never seen a zoo that empty, but it was extremely cold. We enjoyed seeing the dolphins and the elephants and the cats. My friend Kathy was in from Virginia and Phoebe was enamored immediately. She did not want Kathy to leave. I have several pictures to post but not many that match this entry--I'll have to get those up soon.

Six Months

Beckett is six months today, but I don't have any vitals on him because we haven't done the measurements, yet. He is wonderful, though. Last night, I came across this poem that I had to write for a class I took this summer. It was one of the hardest classes I have taken because it required me to write poetry. I am not a poet--not even remotely close to a poet. I love language. I appreciate poetry (some of it), but I do not write poetry or pretend to be lyrical. My professor did not expect us to be poets, but she wanted us to appreciate the form and understand what it took to write it, so we had to actually interact with the forms as opposed to just reading and analyzing them. And I give her credit, because I would not have understood how much crafting a poem takes if I were not forced to write them--and each poem had to adhere to specific rules depending on the particular form. There were rules regarding rhyme schemes and numbers of lines and types of repetition and syllable counts and meters and all kinds of rigorous rules that I couldn't help but break often. So while I am not a poet, and could never dream of publishing something that I wrote, I can amuse myself and others by posting the things I had to write for class here. They would not pass by poets standards, but they are not entirely awful, either. I will begin by posting the one I wrote about Beckett--before he was Beckett and things were very busy around here:



This poem had to be written in heroic couplets (I won't explain the rules, but in case you know what it is, you can see if I complied :))

Waiting

The visit begins the same way each time:
check weight (don’t look), blood pressure, vital signs.

The stethoscope is cold without remorse.
The doctor’s bedside manner could be less coarse.

Anticipation overtakes her mind
when doctor plays the game of seek and find.

With fingers crossed, she waits to hear the beat.
Its steady rhythm makes her tap her feet.

Da dum da dum da dum da dum da dum
fills her with calm awaiting what may come.

His health assured she breathes a heavy sigh,
and wonders still, what can go awry.

No peace of mind until the day arrives
when baby boy shows up to change their lives.

The passing days are filled with nervousness:
expanding space, eliminating mess.

The child is coming sooner than she thinks.
She wonders what will happen when she blinks.

Her anxiousness will finally subside
as sounds of congratulations are cried.

How cuddly is Phoebe

Phoebe is funny and interesting and engaging and giggly and sassy and stubborn and inquisitive and chatty and loving and determined and many other things, but cuddly, she is not--as clearly evidenced by her two favorite dolls affectionately known as Dora and The Head (who sometimes goes by Katie or Sarah depending on Phoebe's mood, but usually just "The Head" and is exactly what you think it is)

Both dolls are of the hard plastic variety, yet she chooses to sleep with them rather than, say, a soft, nuzzle-friendly stuffed animal (of which she has too many to count).

A little more about Dora and The Head (who I'll refer to as Sarah because she seemed to have that name the most today)--this is purely for my memories--Phoebe is Dora and Sarah's mom and Daddy Bear is their dad. Sometimes Phoebe says she had five or six babies in her belly at one time, so I think that also includes Froggy (who is not a frog at all, but a small baby doll that wears blue so is a baby boy and was her favorite doll--her baby brother to be exact until Dora came around, then it was Dora and Froggy, but The Head has inched out Froggy. He still sleeps with her and is always nearby, but she can't carry all three of them at once easily) Claire, and Baby Tubbles, and sometimes perhaps Big Baby (which is a large baby doll with a freakish face that is supposed to look 'real') or Shakespeare (which is exactly what you think it is--stuffed Shakespeare). Anyway, Phoebe supposedly had all these babies and like all good moms, she picks favorites, i.e. Dora and The Head, but will take care of all her babies when she is feeling up to it. She drops them off at school while she goes to stroller class and tells them "no, baby, you can't come with me. Mommy has to go to stroller class, but I'll be back in a bit. Be good." Hmmm, where have I heard that before? And today they all needed haircuts, so she set them up at the hair salon for their hair cuts--which she has been doing with them for the past two days. Could that be because Phoebe was supposed to get a hair cut on Saturday--her first one of her life--but was too crabby and unpleasant when she woke up from her nap to get out the door, so we missed the appointment. Now she is replaying it as if she had gone and obviously it was an important event to her that she is sad to have missed. We will reschedule, of course, but I have to be sure she isn't going to do the same thing again. And currently, Froggy is five months old--coincidentally the same age as Beckett. One of her other 'children' has a birthday on August 8--hmmm; and Dora's birthday was almost everyday for a week after Sydney's birthday. Dora is sometimes 4, sometimes 5 and sometimes 6. Phoebe sometimes forgets what age she has assigned to each child. Dora is usually 4. The Head seems to be 5. Five year olds get to do a lot of things, like drive and have babies. So we can see what's going on in Phoebe's psyche these days.

Beckett Five Months!

He's grown about an inch and added a pound in the last month. His latest feats are sitting up, if a bit on the wobbly side, yet; grabbing with precision; and he had a few bites of some pureed bananas this evening--which didn't work very well. He didn't dislike the experience--in fact, he seemed to be pleased with the taste of the bananas, but he couldn't quite figure out how to get the food in his mouth--he just kept pushing it out with his tongue, so I don't think he is quite ready, yet. He doesn't technically need food for a bit yet anyway. I just happened to puree a banana for the french toast batter that I made for dinner and had some left, so I thought I would try it.

Four Months

Beckett had his four month birthday on December 8. He's still healthy and happy! He is grabbing and exploring things intently. (Everything he grabs goes in his mouth, of course.) He tries to sit up but can't quite do it yet. He is sleeping fairly well. Some nights he'll sleep all the way past 3:00, but most nights he goes to sleep between 8:30 and 9 and wakes up between 12 and 2 for the first time then again a couple of hours later and about every half hour after that. He doesn't have a set napping schedule, but he likes a short nap or two and one long nap during the day.

maturation

Who are these beautifully sophisticated young ladies?

Lincoln Park Zoo Santa

Here is where Santa says, "and what do you want for Christmas, Phoebe?"
Phoebe replies "doctor gloves."
Santa looks at me quizzically then back at her and says, "okay, we'll get you some of those."
















She almost didn't want to get in his lap for the picture, but then she noticed the sucker :)

election day

I think it is pretty cool to be alive for and to have participated in one of the most historically important elections. And here is my brief election day story. Phoebe and Beckett went with me to vote this morning--we walked down the block--and it was fine until Phoebe voided my vote. I decided to go with the electronic voting rather than the paper, so the lady handed me my card and I waited in line (there was only one person ahead of me). When I got to the machine, Phoebe said "I'll be right back, Mom." and she ran to the trash can--"I had to throw away my paper." She got a sticker from one of the ladies at the polling place and she threw away the paper backing. I was happy with her for being so conscientious. While she was at the trash can, I inserted my card into the machine and began to make my selections. She returned and was standing underneath me when all of a sudden she says "here's your credit card, Mom." She pulled the card out of the machine--the one that the instructions say "do not remove until you see this screen..." My machine all of a sudden started rolling paper and printing stuff and at the end in big fat letters it said VOIDED! I was embarrassed and stunned. Luckily, I was still able to vote and it would count--I just had to start over. That was fun.

Pictures:

proud big sister and baby brother

Phoebe being a mean witch (who rides her broom backwards :)) who tells all the children "No More Birthdays!"

Brett and I on a night out--we actually even dressed up. It was our first time away from Beckett, but we took separate cars. We were at a friend's wedding that was extremely nearby. Beckett actually got his first cold that day, so I didn't stay out long because he was too sneezy and pitiful to stay away from. :( Aunti Terra did a great job juggling the three kids for a while, though.

Brett and Beckett sharing smiles on the floor at a Halloween gathering of Argo parents and kids.

Beckett will be 3 months old on Saturday. He's healthy and happy--recent developments:

It appears he is sleeping through the night--for the moment. October 31 was his first full night of sleep from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. which coincidentally is the exact same night that Phoebe first slept through the night. She only did it for a couple of days because she had a cold, but it was Oct. 31, 2005. Interesting! He sleeps in the bassinet in our room and I have been putting him in there around 9:00 and he has been sleeping straight through until atleast 4:30. He is awake and alert most of the day with several little naps and at least one longer one (two hours or more) in the afternoon. I'm not sure when he'll get on a permanent nap schedule, but he is doing well. He's such a happy baby. I've never heard a baby laugh the way he does--he has these deep belly laughs and he squeals with delight. His whole face giggles and coos. I've really never heard anything like it. What's especially wonderful about it is it makes me laugh out loud everyday--which is something we should all do, but this has happened for me more in the past year especially, because three-year-old talking, reasoning Phoebe says and does the most amusing things and Beckett couldn't be happier. And Phoebe is a doting big sister. If Beckett cries, Phoebe makes sure that I go get him. He smiles at her constantly and she loves to amuse him. When he cries in his swing, she'll sit on her stool next to him and rock him and coo, and he immediately calms down and smiles. I am definitely in love with my children. Phoebe amazes me and Beckett smiles at me. I'm sure he'll amaze me too when he develops his identity and starts talking.

Conversational Bits

I occasionally record bits of conversations that Phoebe has with me. While I am often not near a pen or computer during some of our most interesting discussions, I would like to share some of her recent thoughts. I did not include dialogue tags, but I hope you can discern which lines are hers and which are mine:

“When Beckett gets bigger, he could use my spoons because Beckett and I are going to be friends. And when he gets big and when I get big, we can read together.”

“I love you, Phoebe”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“Underneath the moon?”

"It takes a long time to get big, Mom."

“I had to put toilet paper on my knees because sometimes it can’t come out if I don’t have toilet paper on my knees”
“you have to put toilet paper on your knees to go to bathroom?”
“yes, because it comes out easier if I have toilet paper on my knees.”

“I don’t need a shirt on because I have my coat”
“You still need a shirt”
“but my coat will be zipped. I’ll just put on my pants and then go.”

“you are boogery”
“snort! I don’t have boogers now. I sneaked it in.”

And about two weeks after Beckett was born, we had this conversation:
"Why wasn't I born with a penis like Beckett?"
"Well, because you were born as a girl, Phoebe."
"Well, I don't want to be a girl. I want a penis."
"Why do you want a penis?"
"Because I like penises."
"What do you like about them?"
"I just like penises and I want one."
"You don't need a penis."
"Well, penises are my favorite."
We went on to discuss why not having a penis is perfectly good. We talked about all the good things about being a girl so that she could perhaps get over her penis envy. She is quite fixated on them these days. In the first two or three days after Beck was born, she pointed at every man and boy she saw, including our plumber, cartoon characters, and characters in books and asked "he's a boy, does he have a penis?"

Firefighter Phoebe and Friends

A playgroup tour of the EP fire department on September 17.

Butterfly Beckett

I'm a bit out of sequence. He's about 4 weeks old here.