Sunday, May 17, 2009

Decisions, Decisions

I am not a great decision maker.  
For even the smallest decisions, I tend to pour over 'pros' and 'cons'.  I solicit advice and consider every possible detail.  I finally make a decision and then the second-guessing begins and the process begins all over again.  
Being a mom, however, has forced me to speed the process up quite a bit.  After all, many of the decisions required in the course of my day are split-second choices-- leaving no time for extensive deliberation.
Do I push my crying three-year-old through his swim lesson?  Do I whack him on the tush when ten time-outs in a two hour period aren't doing the trick?  When I discover a stinky diaper 15 minutes from home, do I stop for a change or wait?  When it's 3 am and Liam hasn't slept for more than one hour at a time, do I bring him into our bed?
I was forced to make one such decision at the gym last week.
It was Liam's first time in the childcare room.  The woman in charge seemed nice enough and there were only a few children in the room.  I only planned on a 45-minute workout, so I wasn't too nervous about leaving him.  After dropping him off, I headed to the locker room to get changed.  Before hopping on a treadmill, I went to take a quick peek from a distance.
The childcare woman was in the corner on her cell phone.  A boy (he seemed about 3 years old) was kneeling in front of Liam and pushing him on his forehead.  Liam was smiling broadly, probably thinking this was some sort of game.   The boy, equally entertained, pushed harder and harder until Liam fell backwards and began crying.  This caught the woman's attention and she hung up the phone and picked Liam up.
I could have gone into the room at that moment, but I decided to take a lap around the gym and then take another look.  A minute or two later, Liam was playing in an Exersaucer and he seemed content.  So, I decided to workout as planned.
For the entire 3 miles, I was wondering if I had done the right thing.  How many decisions do you suppose a parent makes in their lifetime?  It's hard to believe that this is only the beginning.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Storybook Land 2009

The pre-nursery and nursery school classes at Will's school take a trip to Storybook Land every spring.  Will had a great time last year (first photo) and he's been looking forward to this trip (second photo, same kids) for the last twelve months.  
This year, some of his favorite moments included riding on the big yellow bus, running through the Alice in Wonderland Tunnel, peering into all of the Storybook houses and riding the train.  From the enormous selection of souvenirs in the gift shop, he selected a squishy octopus (which has absolutely nothing to do with the trip).  And some of my favorite moments included watching Will participate in all of the above activities. 
Will conquered some fears, mainly due to peer pressure, and he rode the Tilt-a-Whirl and Roller Coaster.  As the ride operator buckled us in, he listened intently as I assured him.  He clenched my arm and buried his head in the side of my chest.  As each ride came to a stop he smiled and he danced off the ride yelling, "I was brave... I was brave... I was braaaaave..."  This was a favorite moment.
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As we were riding the balloons with Ryan, we had some interesting conversation...
Me:  Whoa.  What planet do you want to go to, guys?
Will:  Earth!
Ryan:  Atlantic City!
Me:  This ride makes my belly feel funny!
Will:  This ride makes my penis feel funny!
Ryan:  Me too!
Another favorite moment.
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But above all, I enjoyed the bus ride home.  It was sunny and quiet, as most of the kids were exhausted and parents were chatting quietly.  The bus windows were partially opened, letting in a warm breeze.  In a nostalgic, sort of comforting way, the bus bumped, rocked and swayed along the parkway.  Will played with his stretchy octopus and we talked about the day.  He leaned against me and I watched as he slowly drifted off to sleep, eventually falling into my lap.  I brushed his hair with my fingers and memorized the feel of his hand in mine.  All the while, I was thinking about how much he had changed in the last twelve months and how quickly he's growing up.  A little bittersweet, but above all, my most favorite moment.
(You wouldn't believe how difficult it was to get this photo.)

Monday, May 11, 2009

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Solo Skater

Last week, Will had his first solo skating lesson-- no more "Parent & Me" classes!
Getting dressed in the lobby went as usual-- with Will jumping around and unable to sit still while Bill tried his best to get the equipment on without losing his mind.  (Thankfully, my job is to supervise Liam during this time.)
As we walked into the rink (about 2 minutes after the above pics were taken), Will began complaining that he was 'too tired' and that 'his belly hurt' (which is slightly hilarious considering the above photos).  Bill helped him onto the ice and about 5 seconds later he had his first wipe-out... taking down an innocent 6 year-old on the way.  As the instructors helped Will to his feet, I could see that anxiety was getting the better of him.
However, unlike the 'socially retarded ass wipe' we met earlier in the week, his skating instructor was kind, patient and encouraging.  Within 10 minutes time, he was skating faster and more skillfully than he had ever skated with Bill or me.  
There are only two students in the class.  
Fortunately, Will has always done well with older women.
At the end of the lesson, Bill and I were waiting to congratulate him on a great job.  Will, however, was more concerned with our usual Sunday morning post-skating ritual...
... french fries and hot chocolate.
Incidentally, the best french fries are almost always found in ice rinks and bowling alleys.  We're teaching this kid the important things in life, for sure.

Thank You General Mills!

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Liam sprouted not one, but FOUR teeth last week.  
At his well-visit, I remarked to the pediatrician how odd it was that his side teeth were growing in before his front teeth.  She replied, "Those ARE his front teeth.  He'll have a gap for sure."
While this news was a bit concerning, I was too overcome with excitement to worry.  Excited because we could now embark on some General Mills whole grain goodness known as Cheerios.
Good-bye to five AM fumbling with plastic bottle liners and measuring cups in one hand, while trying to quiet a hungry baby in the other-- eyes half-open and desperately needing to pee, but unable to delay the feeding for even a few moments at the risk of a screamfest.  
Now, I can simply flip open a canister and drop a handful of cereal onto Liam's tray.  He eagerly stretches himself towards the high chair, begging to be set down.  It's amazing how much better your morning gets when you can open your eyes, empty your bladder and fill your coffee maker first thing.  Not to mention the ease of preparing a bottle with not one, but two hands.  

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Swimming (continued) or How to Make My Shit List

We returned to swim lessons on Tuesday.  I thought we should give it one more try.  I should have known better.
For the last week, while we were sitting together over breakfast or as I was pulling his shirt over his head, Will would ask, "Are we going swimming today?"  I would say no and tell him just how many days there were until the next class.  Then I would praise him and try to build his confidence.  
On Tuesday morning, Will knew we were headed back to class.  
At breakfast, Will complained that he was too tired.  As I helped him get dressed, he whined that he didn't want to go.  As I buckled him into the car, his eyes were filled with tears.  As we turned into the parking lot, he was sobbing.  The more upset he became, the more horrible I felt.  But at the same time, I felt that not going could send some message about quitting or facing up to fears.  So we went.
It was pouring out.  I fumbled with a stroller, an infant, a diaper bag, and an inconsolable 3-year-old.  He kept saying that he didn't want to go and as we entered the pool area he was crying.  I kept telling him that everything would be okay... he would be fine.  I think I was trying to convince the both of us.
I spoke to the teacher before class, explaining that Will had always loved the water and been a strong swimmer for his age/ability group.  I explained that his confidence had been shaken and that he could use some encouragement and extra attention this week.  I suggested that we speak at the end of the class, and if Will continued to struggle, we could switch him to a more appropriate class.  She looked at Will, who had regained his composure-- but still appeared visibly upset, and asked me, "So, he's swimming today?"  When I told her that he would swim, she took his hand and lead him to the pool-- without so much as a word or smile to him.
In the pool, he looked scared and shaken.  He was trying to keep up, but he was just too upset.  I watched as the instructor strapped a bubble to him.  He looked at me and began sobbing.  A few minutes later, she sat him on the edge of the pool to calm down.  At this point, I was motioning to him to come to me, but he was still.  I think he was afraid to move.  He rejoined the class and she would intermittently sit him off to the side when he wasn't keeping up.  At the end of the class, the students moved to a more shallow part of the pool where they dove for rings-- this is always Will's favorite part of class.  He eagerly dove below the water to retrieve a ring and he carried it to her.  She slid it up her arm, adding it to her collection without saying a word or even nodding.  I watched as this happened three more times-- Will eagerly finding a ring and seeking out her approval-- she ignoring him.  
She seriously made my shit list.  Big time.  For life.
It figures that she didn't say a word to us at the end of class.
I ended up switching Will to a different time, day and teacher.  I also lowered him back to his previous level, just to build his confidence.  I told him that we were switching to a class that's more fun and he asked me if he was moving 'backwards'.  Then, my once confident, bubble-free, little swimmer told me that he couldn't go into the water... without his bubble.
This was a mistake.  Big one.  I am an ass.  Big one.