Monday, December 25, 2006
luckymomma
We've been discussing other holidays as well as Christmas this month (Valentine's Day, Easter, Thanksgiving, Halloween). So as I'm tucking him in tonight, I say, "Merry Christmas, Ronan!" And he says, "Is tomorrow Feaster?"
We've been discussing other holidays as well as Christmas this month (Valentine's Day, Easter, Thanksgiving, Halloween). So as I'm tucking him in tonight, I say, "Merry Christmas, Ronan!" And he says, "Is tomorrow Feaster?"
Thursday, July 20, 2006
luckymomma
I've been trying to teach Ronan how to tell knock-knock jokes. Here's how it went today:
Momma: "Knock-knock"
Ronan: "Who's there?
M: "Orange"
R: "Hi orange!"
I've been trying to teach Ronan how to tell knock-knock jokes. Here's how it went today:
Momma: "Knock-knock"
Ronan: "Who's there?
M: "Orange"
R: "Hi orange!"
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Ronan was an amazing traveler on our recent trip to Cincinnati. Four hours and 15 minutes each way, and we had a great time. The highlight was when he turned to me on the plane and said, "Momma, it's good to see you here."
Saturday, October 01, 2005
I feel morally superior.
Last night I made lasagna with eggplant and kale (thanks to our CSA box). Ronan devoured it! Of course, it had plenty of mozzarella and sauce, and he did call it pizza, but still. We mommas take our victories where we can!
Last night I made lasagna with eggplant and kale (thanks to our CSA box). Ronan devoured it! Of course, it had plenty of mozzarella and sauce, and he did call it pizza, but still. We mommas take our victories where we can!
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
My kid doesn't willingly surrender to sleep. He thrashes, kicks, flips and does anything possible to avoid succumbing.
In defense, we resort to boring stories. After a lengthy account of the day ("and then we went to the store. You rode in the cart, and we bought bananas...") we slow things down. Here's a sample:
"And then we looked for rocks to throw. Dadda found a rock, and you threw it at a tree. You found a rock, and threw it into the grass. Dadda found another rock, and you threw it up high. Then you saw a stick, and threw it into the rocks."
There can be no plot, no story arc, no villains, heck it's better to avoid adjectives, even. The slightest hint of excitement will have him popping up like a gopher, interjecting commentary like Bob Costas.
It's amazing how your mind veers off into weirdness, laying there in the dark next to your small son, listening to his breathing slow. Suddenly you realize you're talking about edging the lawn, or the birthday gift you have to buy. Hey, as long as it's boring.
Sometimes he doesn't buy it. After a particularly long, sleepy pause, I occasionally hear, "Momma?" Coming up with boring stories is harder than you'd think.
In defense, we resort to boring stories. After a lengthy account of the day ("and then we went to the store. You rode in the cart, and we bought bananas...") we slow things down. Here's a sample:
"And then we looked for rocks to throw. Dadda found a rock, and you threw it at a tree. You found a rock, and threw it into the grass. Dadda found another rock, and you threw it up high. Then you saw a stick, and threw it into the rocks."
There can be no plot, no story arc, no villains, heck it's better to avoid adjectives, even. The slightest hint of excitement will have him popping up like a gopher, interjecting commentary like Bob Costas.
It's amazing how your mind veers off into weirdness, laying there in the dark next to your small son, listening to his breathing slow. Suddenly you realize you're talking about edging the lawn, or the birthday gift you have to buy. Hey, as long as it's boring.
Sometimes he doesn't buy it. After a particularly long, sleepy pause, I occasionally hear, "Momma?" Coming up with boring stories is harder than you'd think.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Survival mode
It's been one of those weeks that's turned into one of those months. I optimistically made a to-do list at the beginning of the week, with entries such as "Make Father's Day cards." I envisioned selecting an appropriate (wise, loving, sentimental) quote and carefully designing a card to be decorated by Ronan with important and inspiring marker art.
This, of course, was before the ear infection weekend from hell. I was pushing the stroller around the block at 3:30 in the morning trying to get Ronan back to sleep. When that didn't work, I handed him off to JP, who watched Bob the Builder and Mr. Rogers (who sings, "it's a neighborly day in this beauty wood" during the opening song. Somehow I missed that when I was a kid.) for an hour on the couch. And the boy still didn't sleep.
So we had two nights like that. And my to-do list morphed into: scrounge around the kitchen looking for something that resembles bread. Make peanut butter sandwich on frozen pita bread for sick child.
It's funny how quickly our priorities can shift. Things that I thought fell into the "must-do" category end up being in the "disposable" category. The Father's Day cards ended up being stickers on construction paper. But Dadda and both grandfathers loved them.
It's been one of those weeks that's turned into one of those months. I optimistically made a to-do list at the beginning of the week, with entries such as "Make Father's Day cards." I envisioned selecting an appropriate (wise, loving, sentimental) quote and carefully designing a card to be decorated by Ronan with important and inspiring marker art.
This, of course, was before the ear infection weekend from hell. I was pushing the stroller around the block at 3:30 in the morning trying to get Ronan back to sleep. When that didn't work, I handed him off to JP, who watched Bob the Builder and Mr. Rogers (who sings, "it's a neighborly day in this beauty wood" during the opening song. Somehow I missed that when I was a kid.) for an hour on the couch. And the boy still didn't sleep.
So we had two nights like that. And my to-do list morphed into: scrounge around the kitchen looking for something that resembles bread. Make peanut butter sandwich on frozen pita bread for sick child.
It's funny how quickly our priorities can shift. Things that I thought fell into the "must-do" category end up being in the "disposable" category. The Father's Day cards ended up being stickers on construction paper. But Dadda and both grandfathers loved them.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
This morning while Ronan and I were walking the dog, we discovered a backhoe tearing the road up. We stopped and watched for almost a half hour, which made us late for playgroup. I'm a punctual person, but I've learned the wisdom of toddler time.
Toddler time dictates that you never interrupt a kid who's engrossed in playing alone. You tiptoe, you don't empty the dishwasher, you speak in hushed tones, because the moment he looks up and makes eye contact, it's over. Toddler time insists that sometimes it'll take 20 minutes to get from the front door to the car (it's imperative to rake the gravel on the way there -- and that bird -- did you see that bird? Let's call the cat....) Toddler time means that in the five minutes it takes momma to make a doctor's appointment, the contents of the toybox can be artfully arranged throughout the house, including under the stove and behind the television.
Toddler time is fluid. It's also rigid and unflexible; 12:36 is six minutes too late to nap without a fight. It's tough to let go of schedules, especially when you've paid $175 for ten weeks of My Gym.
Toddler time dictates that you never interrupt a kid who's engrossed in playing alone. You tiptoe, you don't empty the dishwasher, you speak in hushed tones, because the moment he looks up and makes eye contact, it's over. Toddler time insists that sometimes it'll take 20 minutes to get from the front door to the car (it's imperative to rake the gravel on the way there -- and that bird -- did you see that bird? Let's call the cat....) Toddler time means that in the five minutes it takes momma to make a doctor's appointment, the contents of the toybox can be artfully arranged throughout the house, including under the stove and behind the television.
Toddler time is fluid. It's also rigid and unflexible; 12:36 is six minutes too late to nap without a fight. It's tough to let go of schedules, especially when you've paid $175 for ten weeks of My Gym.
