The weekend passed pretty quietly. On Friday night there was an alarming car right beneath the kids' window -- terrified Seth and put Mommie right back in bed with him. Saturday it woke him up from his nap by alarming; we went downstairs to get its license plate number only to find the police already there towing it. Of course, they towed it only about 1/4 of a mile away to a dusty parking lot, but at least it's quieter at that distance. It was Seth's highlight of the weekend -- first thing he told Jon about when Jon arrived home.
Saturday Nora and Sara went off to the local amusement park, where they were delighted to find Nora met the height requirements for most of the rides. Nora again showed she has no fear -- went on everything. Meanwhile, the boys and I meandered around San Sebastian in the AM, and after nap took a nice walk in the park with their new scooter and balance bike.
Sunday we said goodbye to Sara (sniff) and waited for Jon to arrive home by cleaning the apartment and getting some fresh bread. After Jon came home, we went over to my cousin Mary's for a birthday party for her twins. The twins are soooo cute (blonde, fair, tall, with a sparkle in their eyes), and (miraculously) six young kids played happily with one another for a couple hours in a confined space.
Today we woke up to our first day of bad weather since we moved here. Windy and raining and, because we're close to the edge of the time zone, pitch black. The rain seems to have taken a break for the kids' walk to school, but we'll see how they fare if it starts back up by the end of the day; they walk about 20 minutes each way. We also need to figure out how to try our laundry -- dryers are uncommon here, and we are finding that the clothes don't dry well even when it's a regular fall (i.e., 65 and sunny) day. It's possible that the dryer rack will spend the winter in our kitchen.
In good news, the lice seem to be gone, and the iPhone has risen from the dead. And Jon is home!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Day 4 & 5
The Spanish word for today: Piojos. Lice. Lots of them, covering the scalp of one itchy child. Should've known -- we've been around the block with lice this past summer. Thank heavens Sara is here to run interference with the other two while I nitpicked (is that grammatically correct?) and washed sheets for almost 2 hours this afternoon.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Day 3: The terrible 3’s
The title refers not to how day 3 without Jon went (it was average) but to Seth, who seems to be headed for Terrible Threes. One of my friends once told me that she thinks kids tend to alternate good/bad years, and we’ve found it to be roughly true for our kids too, at least while they are small. Seth had a rotten period between 12-24 months (not sleeping, little self-control, into everything, wailing like a banshee, Mr. Destructo), but his behavior improved dramatically at age 2. Now, a month into age 3, he’s back at it again, except he’s a year older and wiser.
Let’s take tonight’s drama as an example. The background for this story is that Seth has to go pooh potty every night exactly 11 minutes after the start of dinner. Usually, it’s a race to see what happens first – Mommie finishing dinner, or Seth making the poop face.
The other background on this story is that Seth has been washing his hands BY HIMSELF after going potty for the last few weeks. Actually, we often find him in there, mid-hand-wash, coated with soap and happy as a clam, not ready to finish the job anytime soon. So let’s amend the above to say that he’s been “GLEEFULLY washing his hands BY HIMSELF” for the past few weeks.
For the past couple days, however, Seth’s been making a big production of NOT being able to wash his own hands. Here’s tonight’s transaction after going potty:
Me: Seth, please wash your hands.
Seth, standing on his hand-washing stool: I caaaannnn’t
Me, walking away: Seth, wash your hands and then you can finish your yogurt.
Seth: I caaaaannnnn’t. I can’t reeeeaaaach.
The wailing continues for several minutes. I hear water running but the wailing does not abate. I walk in to discover Seth actually patting the soap, but still wailing:
Seth: I caaaan’t reeaaach the soaaaap.
Me: You are touching the soap, Seth.
Seth: I caaaannn’t reaaaaaach the soaaaap.
I leave again. Seth “falls” to the floor, and begins to wail that he’s fallen and can’t get up – another recently discovered ploy. I tell him to come for a hug when he’s ready, which he does immediately. At the end of the hug, I suggest he wash his hands.
Seth: I caaaaannnn’t.
Me: Once you wash your hands, you can blow out the candles*
Seth: Oh. OK.
He then scampers into the bathroom, we hear water running, and he emerges 30 seconds later fresh and clean.
So as you can see, he’s learned toddler manipulation tactics – somewhere, somehow, I wonder exactly from whom, big sister Nora???? Luckily, Mommie still has some tricks. But he is steadily gaining on me.
*it’s Simchat Torah, lest you think we dine with candles every night.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Day 2, complete
So Day 2 is almost complete -- Seth is in bed, and big kids are studying Nora's new Torah with Sara. Nora was awarded the Torah in a school ceremony for 4th graders; it's the Torah she will study this year and would use in the future if we were to stay in Madrid. It was preceded by a Succot party, so I got to watch Nora run around like mad with the other 4th graders. She has certainly made some friends -- she's got the social gene, probably from the Star side.
Day 2, partial report for Grandparents
This is mainly for grandparents, who will find this post cute. The rest of you will think it's cloying (so be warned and stop reading!).
School pickup went well, mainly because I only have 2/3 of the Starhills (Nora is at a party) and after only moderate kvetching, Nathan is now quietly playing with his Spanish tutor. I'm mainly writing to report (quickly) about the toddlerness of my present experience. In the last 15 minutes, Seth has:
- Insisted that "I no like milk. I like leche." Seth says leche like he's from Texas: laaayyyychaaayyy.
- Insisted that I peel his snack apple, then wandered over to the pile of discarded peels and reported "Oh, I like these" -- and begun snacking on them.
More generally, the language stuff seems to be confusing him a bit. He knows that everyone here speaks Spanish, but when he sees his Hebrew teacher from school, he points at her and says "There my French teacher!!" When a sibling points out that it's a Hebrew teacher, he insists "I no learn Hebrew. I learning French."
School pickup went well, mainly because I only have 2/3 of the Starhills (Nora is at a party) and after only moderate kvetching, Nathan is now quietly playing with his Spanish tutor. I'm mainly writing to report (quickly) about the toddlerness of my present experience. In the last 15 minutes, Seth has:
- Insisted that "I no like milk. I like leche." Seth says leche like he's from Texas: laaayyyychaaayyy.
- Insisted that I peel his snack apple, then wandered over to the pile of discarded peels and reported "Oh, I like these" -- and begun snacking on them.
More generally, the language stuff seems to be confusing him a bit. He knows that everyone here speaks Spanish, but when he sees his Hebrew teacher from school, he points at her and says "There my French teacher!!" When a sibling points out that it's a Hebrew teacher, he insists "I no learn Hebrew. I learning French."
Monday, October 17, 2011
Jon in Singapore, Day 1 (with better formatting!)
OK, OK, Jon only left at 3:30. But I'm still counting it as Day 1.
So those of you who know my husband also knows that he has a form of wanderlust, one enabled by large pots of federal education dollars supporting invitations to exotic locations. This time, it’s Singapore – he’s off for most of a week. Because beating a hasty retreat to my parents (my usual response to this situation) was not in the cards, I’m here with the kids ‘til Sunday.
On the plus side, the kids’ second cousin Sara Warren came over to help. Sara’s great with kids, and helped us out last year when we decided we’d like a moment’s peace on our Cape vacation. Here’s a picture of Sara with Seth, taken today in the park:
And here's Seth giving her a smack on the nose:
Sara’s taking a week off from her studies at Auburn to nanny for our kids (and be a bit of a tourist for the shards of time they’re in school this week). So that's the plus side.
On the minus side, our kids are particularly challenging right now. Here’s the scene before dinner:
Nathan is doing his homework in the other room and then being entertained by the heroic efforts of Sara, who has been up since the wee hours (Atlanta time) for her flight to Madrid. So that is one Starhill down.
Nora is doing her math homework – seven computation problems which ultimately take her almost an hour. For reasons unbeknownst to me, the Spanish 4th grade curriculum skips directly from multi-digit addition (2545+345) to multi-digit multiplication (3,485 x 7), leaving out, oh, things like basic multiplication facts (which apparently kids are expected to know at the start of 4th grade), easier multi-digit problems (e.g., 40 x 7), and so forth. So not knowing the facts or the basics of the procedure is one big problem for Nora.
The other big problem is that Nora vehemently rejects all of my attempts to explain why procedures work – those explanations, apparently, stand in the way of her executing the procedure as quickly as possible in order to go out and play. But because the multi-digit problems they are working on tonight each require extensive regrouping, and she quickly becomes entangled in the procedure, putting phantom zeroes in and writing numbers willy-nilly on top of one another.
Nora, to her credit, was mostly good-humored about the situation. I couldn’t resist teaching the partial product method—I’ve been dreaming of teaching the partial product method to my daughter for years – and Nora mostly took that in stride. But Nora also begs incessantly for help and answer checks, and I also learned how easy it is to provide the answers to one’s daughter, in hopes that the ordeal of homework will be over faster.
Meanwhile, I am trying to cook dinner. Which, as my children will tell you, never goes particularly well even on a good night, when the kitchen is cleared of Starhills. On this particular night, in addition to Nora doing her math, Seth is in and out “helping” Mommie cook, pestering Nora, rummaging around in the laundry, trash and recycling, and getting into sundry other things. Sara finally lures him away, but only by taking out the big guns: Angry Birds.
As a side note, there been a lively discussion on the Arlington parent’s list about a parent with a clingy 18th-month-old. Most other parents responded by providing strategies (for instance, let the toddler cook, get them a really good toy to play with) and then assuring the advice-seeker that the stage goes away in a few months. I can testify, however, that it does not go away until approximately age 5. All three of my children have been Mommie-attached in the worst way – practically from giving up nursing (and thus allowing Mommie to cook) they have been either attached to my leg or screaming to be picked up, making cooking awkward and at times even unsafe. I briefly consider writing this to the parent who originally asked for advice, but finally decide it’s too depressing.
This all continues on while judeo beans simmer into a mushy mess, rice burns at the bottom of the pot, I hack an ungainly watermelon to pieces with a dull knife, and lomo (pork) is turned into an unchewable mass by over-frying. Finally, an hour after I started, I serve dinner to the masses.
Tune in tomorrow to see whether this situation gets better or worse.
Jon in Singapore: Day 1
OK, OK, Jon only left today at 3:30 PM, but I'm still counting this as Day 1.
By way of explanation -- those of you who know my husband also knows that he has a form of wanderlust, one enabled by large pots of federal education dollars supporting invitations to exotic locations. This time, it’s Singapore – he’s off for most of a week. Because beating a hasty retreat to my parents (my usual response to this situation) was not in the cards, I’m here with the kids ‘til Sunday.
On the plus side, the kids’ second cousin Sara Warren came over to help. Sara’s great with kids, and helped us out last year when we decided we’d like a moment’s peace on our Cape vacation. Here’s a picture of Sara with Seth, taken today in the park:
Sara’s taking a week off from her studies at Auburn to nanny for our kids (and be a bit of a tourist for the shards of time they’re in school this week). So that's the plus side.
On the minus side, our kids are particularly challenging right now. Here’s the scene before dinner:
Nathan is doing his homework in the other room and then being entertained by the heroic efforts of Sara, who has been up since the wee hours (Atlanta time) for her flight to Madrid. So that is one Starhill down.
Nora is doing her math homework – seven computation problems which ultimately take her almost an hour. For reasons unbeknownst to me, the Spanish 4th grade curriculum skips directly from multi-digit addition (2545+345) to multi-digit multiplication (3,485 x 7), leaving out, oh, things like basic multiplication facts (which apparently kids are expected to know at the start of 4th grade), easier multi-digit problems (e.g., 40 x 7), and so forth. So not knowing the facts or the basics of the procedure is one big problem for Nora. The other big problem is that Nora vehemently rejects all of my attempts to explain why procedures work – those explanations, apparently, stand in the way of her executing the procedure as quickly as possible in order to go out and play. But because the multi-digit problems they are working on tonight each require extensive regrouping, and she quickly becomes entangled in the procedure, putting phantom zeroes in and writing the wrong numbers (remember, she doesn't know her multiplication facts) willy-nilly on top of one another.
Nora, to her credit, was mostly good-humored about the situation. I couldn’t resist teaching the partial product method—I’ve been dreaming of teaching the partial product method to my daughter for years – and Nora mostly took that in stride. But Nora also begs incessantly for help and answer checks, and I also learned how easy it is to provide the answers to one’s daughter, in hopes that the ordeal of homework will be over faster.
Meanwhile, I am trying to cook dinner. Which, as my children will tell you, never goes particularly well even on a good night, when the kitchen is cleared of Starhills. On this particular night, in addition to Nora doing her math, Seth is in and out “helping” Mommie cook, pestering Nora, rummaging around in the laundry, trash and recycling, and getting into sundry other things. Sara finally lures him away, but only by taking out the big guns: Angry Birds.
As a side note, there been a lively discussion on the Arlington parent’s list about a parent with a clingy 18th-month-old. Most other parents responded by providing strategies (for instance, let the toddler cook, get them a really good toy to play with) and then assuring the advice-seeker that the stage goes away in a few months. I can testify, however, that it does not go away until approximately age 5. All three of my children have been Mommie-attached in the worst way – practically from giving up nursing (and thus allowing Mommie to cook) they have been either attached to my leg or screaming to be picked up, making cooking awkward and at times even unsafe. I briefly consider writing this to the parent who originally asked for advice, but I finally decide it’s too depressing.
This all continues on while judeo beans simmer into a mushy mess, rice burns at the bottom of the pot, I hack an ungainly watermelon to pieces with a dull knife, and lomo (pork) is turned into an unchewable mass by over-frying. Finally, an hour after I started, I serve dinner to the masses.
Tune in tomorrow to see whether this situation gets better or worse.
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