Finally.

You are taller then your brother was when he started Junior Kindergarten last year, and you weigh over 35 pounds. You talk in full sentences, have for a while, and use words that most boys your age do not know.

You’re precocious, you’re emotional, and you’re supremely cute. And you definitely have mummy wrapped around your little finger.

You give the best hugs of anyone I’ve ever known, and I love when you smother me with kisses. You are so affectionate, whenyou take the time to stop moving.

You know people’s names, you sing songs I’ve never heard, and I really think you have a gift of second sight.

Strangers stop me on the street telling me how cute you are, and telling me you should be a model.  You have a look that will both get you in trouble, and keep you out of trouble for the rest of your life.

You like to bead with me, you love your blankies, and you’ll unabashedly carry a purse.  And you love to take one of your animal friends with you when you go out.

3 years ago yesterday I was pregnant with you, and didn’t know how I could possibly love a second child, and then you were born, and it was as if I’d known you forever.  I get you like nobody else does, possibly because you are just so much like me.

Dearest boy, happy birthday.  Mummy loves you very much!

But right now, I just need to write, to get it out.

Tonight was horrible. Absolutely horrible. My son just wouldn’t go to bed. He was scared. Always something. He’s having a tough time, and I don’t know why. He screamed at us, told us to shut up, and get out of hear, and some other things that were really really horrible to hear coming out of his mouth. When we wouldn’t stay with him in bed, he said we were making him sick, and he was going to throw up. Oh, the drama.

And then we did the unthinkable. We washed his mouth out with soap. Only a little bit, and we did warn him (stop talking like that, or we will have to clean up your mouth soap). And thus, we had to follow through, when he continued to scream nastiness at us.

He was, to say the least, not happy. Didn’t get sick (we used only a tiny bit of soap).

And then I lay with him, held him tight, and helped him calm down.

And then? He told me he didn’t like school. (A new school).

That his best friend, the boy he’s been inseparable from at school and the park since they were 8 months old, bit him.

And I cannot even talk to the boys mother, because she’s forsaken us as friends. Oh yes, we used to be friends, met through our kids. However, for whatever reason, her and her husband don’t have any interest in being social with us anymore. It’s a horrible situation, for my son, and it’s a sad situation for us, because we thought that we were friends.

I’m just at a loss right now.  I’m 28 weeks pregnant.  I’m tired.  The big boy hasn’t spent a full night in his own bed in over a month.  He’s scared.  He’s clingly.  And he’s TIRED.  I feel like I am failing him.  He is just so young, and now I think that maybe he isn’t ready for SK, that we should keep him in JK for another year.

This parenting thing is exhausting.

After dinner, the boys were overtired. Not a surprise. They were running down the hall in the mall where we were, not holding anyone’s hand. I yelled to them to stop at the door.

They didn’t.

(The fact that the nanny was right near them is a subject for another post. The fact that they’ve started running off, also a subject for another post.) Suffice to say, I ran after them, grabbed their hands and brought them back to the place they were supposed to wait.

And then I got angry at them.

And then we walked out.

And then, the words…spoken by my older son, as he walked near me, holding the nanny’s hand, and walking next to his grandmother…

“I don’t love you anymore, Mummy.”

I didn’t respond, but it took merely a half second for my mother to get defensive and start to give him what I would only call a lecture about never stopping loving someone…

I interrupted her before she got too far.

“Stop,” I told her. “He’s just a little boy. It’s how he feels at this moment. It’s okay, he’s allowed. I’m the adult, I know better.”

It felt good to say that.

My childhood, of being made to feel guilty for “hating” my mother at a given moment, for wanting to feel things that I did and express them, for not being able to do so…it all flooded back.

And I shut it up with some adult logic.

It’s about time.

I have taken a break, and am not ready to come back quite yet, but I am still here, and I’ll be around. Miss you all!

My night last night:

[I am sitting in the kitchen, with Stewie. It is after bath, but before bed. Dinner was finished a mere hour ago.]

Stewie (sitting on the counter, eating peas). Finishes bowl of peas, and announces, “Want more peas.”

Naomi gets more peas. (YES, he is eating PEAS. As a snack. Before bed. By choice. And I did make him say please) “It’s time for bed, Stewie, eat your peas.”

S: Eats peas. Stops. “I have to pee & poo.” (stall tactic).

N: Takes Stewie off the counter, and watches as he RUNS up the stairs (yelling that he’s “gonna beat me up”).

Stewie Gets to bathroom, takes off pants and I sit him on the toilet. Meanwhile, I put a load of laundry in the machine. Just as I’m finishing, I hear clamoring from the bathroom…

S: “I want to push the button!!” (on the washing machine). I pick him up, and he pushes the button. “I want to put the soap!!” (I’d already put the soap, but to avoid a tantrum – yes, a tantrum, tears and all – I gave him a cup of water to pour in.)

Stewie then runs back to the kitchen (he is naked from the waist down at this point) and demands that he get to finish his peas.  Back on the counter he goes, and continues to eat the peas.  Finishes them, and asks for more.  I try to convince him that there are no more, but he starts to cry, so I give him some more, but tell him that that’s it.

He eats the peas.  As he’s about to eat the last handful, he announces that he has to pee again.

Down off the counter he goes.  Runs to the bathroom again, this time on the same floor as the kitchen.  Pees.  Then pees again.  And again.  Puts seat down.  Goes to put the lid down, stops, looks at me, and says, “I watch it go down?”

N: (stifling a giggle) “Yes, Stewie, you can watch it go down.”

Stewie flushes, watching the pee, then closes the lid.  Washes his hands, and heads back to the kitchen.  This time he stands on the stool (that he carried in from the bathroom earlier in the evening) at the counter, and finishes his peas.

“Want grapes,” he announces.  There is a bowl of grapes on the counter waiting for him.  He eats grapes every night before bed.  Every. Single. Night.

Instead of eating the grapes, he takes them all off the stems and moves them to the bowl that held the peas.  We eat them together.

He stops me. “Bite it, mummy,” and he shows me how he bit the grape in half.

Stewie finishes his bowl of grapes (with several pauses for water).

“Want blueberries, mummy.”

At this point, almost 30 minutes after the whole endeavour began, I drag him upstairs to bed.

This scenario, or some reasonable facsimile thereof occurs every night.

I like maps.  It’s a thing.  I’ve always liked maps.  I think if I had gone to school a few years later, I would have gone into GIS.  That said, I didn’t, but I still like maps.

Linus' Map of His World

Together we added the captions that labeled the places of importance in his world.

Sometimes the simplest things show us so much!

————-

For reference, the “round restaurant” is a local Chinese buffet restaurant.  For the longest time I thought it was called the round restaurant because we walked around to get food.  However, I’ve been informed that it’s called the Round Restaurant because we have to drive around to get to the parking (it’s the scariest parking garage I’ve ever been in!!).

Not too bad, hey?

Part of this trip includes camp for the boys.  To use this camp, they must be toilet trained.  (You know where this is going, right?)  So I decided that this was as good a time as any, and it was time to toilet train the little man.

Well, my 4 year old is a master of the toilet (and lets the entire world know about it!) so there were no worries there.  But the 2 year old…well, see, therein was the issue.

Back last summer we introduced him to the concept of the toilet.  And yes, he did occasionally sit on it and sometimes even pooed.  But honestly, he was too young.  However, the seed had been sown.

Winter break arrived, and Stewie and I were going to be home for 2 weeks, no school, no programs.  So we started in earnest.

[ Wait, let me back up a bit.  I don't know how to potty train.  At least, I didn't at the time.  Linus simply announced one day he wanted underwear, and a week later we were done.  Easy, peasy, no mess, no fuss.  If you were with my on my last bloggy incarnation, you may have read the story ]

Back to winter break.  The approach we took was that whenever he was home, he was naked (from the waist down).  I have to say, this worked.  Not a lot of accidents after the first few days, and he even managed to pee on the toilet most of the time.  It helped that his brother would also be naked, and they would pee together (it’s a family show around here!).

After a few weeks of this, we pushed for underwear.  Gave him some for Chanukah, and he hated it.  Refused to wear it.  Would have screaming fits (”I DON’T WANT UNDERWEAR, I WANT DIAPER!!!!”).  Oh yes.

But we perservered.  And one day, 2 weeks ago, he put on underwear.  And since he was home all day that day, we left it on.  And you know what?  He stayed dry most of the day.  Of course, we took him to pee many times, and asked him essentially every minute.  But he stayed dry until almost 4 in the afternoon.  Not bad.

The next day, it was a Friday, he wanted to wear the underwear to school.  So we let him.

Let’s just say, it’s now been 2 weeks since that day.  For the first week or so, he had accidents, usually in the afternoon when he was playing.  And then, I think, something clicked.  He went 5 days without an accident (until 2 days ago).  We had a slight setback 2 days ago, but he’s still okay.  And now he goes on his own (and announces it, just like his brother) and has even asked to be taken to the toilet.

So we’ve now cancelled our diaper service (we use cloth diapers.  HIGHLY recommended if you wish to be diaper free before 3!) and we’re well on our way to being ready for camp on our holiday!

(Now to get him to be diaper free at night! Ha ha!)

That being said, last night was Parent-Teacher interview night at my children’s school.  It was a wonderful experience, talking with their teachers.  Let’s start with Stewie.

Stewie is my younger boy.  Just a few months over 2, he’s one of the younger ones in his class.  (Of the 15 children, I think there are 2 or possibly 3 that are younger then he is).  He’s easily one of the tallest (of the 15 children, there might be 2 or possibly 3 that are taller then he is).  His teacher GUSHED about him!  Loves him.  Talked about how he tells stores, easily shares, loves to talk.  He is comfortable talking to adults, and tends to talk to them more then to the other children.  (The reason, of course, is quite simple – adults talk back!)

She mentioned that his favourite places in the classroom are the doll centre, the play dough table and the construction toys.  He does the art now (which he wasn’t doing at the beginning of the year), and, in her words, is a joy to have in the class.  She then said to us that whatever we are doing as parents to keep doing it, as we’re doing a wonderful job.

She did say some other things, and both my husband & I got the same thing out of them – he’s just too smart & too advanced for the class.  Of course, it’s a wonderful opportunity for him to socialize with his peers (which, to be sure, was the one thing she thought he needed work on – he seems to prefer the adults to the kids in the class).  We’ve thought for a while that he was different, and it was interesting to hear it from another adult who knows him well.

Then there was Linus.  He’s in junior kindergarten, and so he actually got a report card.  It was really great – almost everything was rated “well established” (3 on the 1-3 scale).  They talked about how pleasant he was, how he chose a good selection of activities in the day and how he works well on his own.  He chooses activities based on his own interests, not on who was there, which was a worry for us (his closest friend is in the class with him, and we worry that he’s the only child that he plays with, or that he follows him around).  It was nice to hear that he’s somewhat independent.

He’s showing interest in reading, and will probably start with readers soon.  She thinks that he’ll certainly be reading at least a little bit well before first grade, which is great.  She told us that she loves having him in the class, and that his smile brightens her day.

As we were driving home, I commented to The Taxman that we have 16 more years of these nights, in which we come home to our children, after having talked to their teachers.  It’s a bit daunting, but also kind of exciting.  I am sure that there will be issues, but I hope that all of those parent-teacher nights are as pleasant and heartwarming as this one was.

==================

*kvell – a Yiddish word, meaning, essentially, to gush over

Anyway, someone brought up the topic of vegetarian children. Apparently they have a friend (or acquaintance, I guess?) that has decided to bring up their children as vegetarians.

My friend took issue with that. She suggested that the child’s health was being compromised, and it wasn’t right to force a dietary choice on a child who doesn’t get a say in the matter.

Let me give a bit of background, first. I am not vegetarian. I would consider myself a flexitarian.  I was a vegetarian for 10 years or so, before I got married, but things have changed since then.  We still eat a predominantly vegetarian diet, but we do eat meat or fish 2 or 3 days per week.  I read vegan & vegetarian cookbooks & blogs, and I am really prudent on the food that my family eats.

Surprisingly, I took issue with this.  Our family keeps kosher, as do several of these women, so my first comment was that keeping kosher forces a dietary choice on a child who doesn’t get a say in the matter.  She felt this was different, because a vegetarian diet deprives the child of things that they need (nutrients, protein, etc).

I find it interesting to hear people’s perception of vegetarianism.  Although I’m not avegetarian anymore, I am aware of nutrition and food combining, and what foods have protein, carbohydrates, et cetera.  Clearly, I disagreed with her, but I was in the minority in the group.

What do you think?

We’ve embraced what I call the flexitarian lifestyle.  We are not vegetarian, but we do not eat meat that often.  In fact, we eat meat or fish 2 (or sometimes 3) nights a week, and are vegetarian the others.

For lots more fun menu plans, visit the Org Junkie.  You won’t be sorry!

This week our menu looks like this:

Monday: Chick pea curry with basmati rice

Tuesday: Baked salmon, barley pilaf, steamed broccoli

Wednesday: Soup Night: Miso noodle soup with tofu and assorted vegetables

Thursday: Homemade pizza

Friday: Mayonnaise-chutney/curry chicken, rice, sauteed veggies

WHAT’S ON YOUR MENU THIS WEEK?