Seeing in the Dark

I have a headlamp sitting on my dresser. Technically, it's for camping trips this summer, but it's getting a surprising amount of use right now. In the last 24 hours alone it has helped me:

1) Fish a green plastic frog out from the very darkest reaches of our floor furnace. No, Oliver didn't drop it in there--that would be me. Kind of hard to explain, but I was testing to make sure it wouldn't fit through the grate when surprise! it slipped right out of my fingers. Cue wailing three year old "I didn't want it to go down there!" apologetic mom, the vacuum cleaner, a cat toy and the aforementioned headlamp.

2) Clean up an "oops" from the cats that landed right outside the litter box--in the dark bedroom after Finn had gone to sleep.

3) Trim Finn's razor sharp little fingernails. For a while I could take care of this during the day, but now he just wants to grab the nail clippers too badly, so I have to wait until he is sacked out in a deep sleep.

Who knew? This year's must-have parenting item.

Sweet family day today. Alonso got to sleep in, fly his plane and even play a little guitar. I had a couple of sessions in the garden; staked the peas, planted winter squash, picked strawberries, beat back the blackberries once again--and I napped with Finn, a rare luxury. Oliver got to paint, read books, dig in the sand box, plant seeds, climb the apple tree and ride his tricycle. Finn was pleased to be a part of everything and showed his joy with his happy-bird squawk every time he saw Oliver, the wind in the trees or a chicken.

Late in the day we all walked downtown to treat ourselves to ice cream at Screaming Mimi's. I had a cup with three little scoops--Local Strawberry, Raspberry Swirl and Cookie Break. Oliver finished his fast and then helped me with mine. Finn chewed on Sophie the Giraffe and watched us all eat. Oliver said "Lucky Finn! He gets ice cream milk!"

We are all so lucky to have such full, rich lives. It's kind of unusual to have such a quiet day to ourselves, but all the sweeter for that.

Transformations

When Finn was born, Oliver turned into a giant overnight.

The day I went into labor had been a busy one. Trying to keep myself distracted from endless contractions that seemed unlikely to turn into real labor any time soon and weighed down by the feeling I would be pregnant forever, I went to yoga, bought groceries and contorted myself around my giant belly to remove some way past its prime toenail polish. After dinner I stretched out on the couch, carefully settled on my side, and Oliver snuggled up with me for a few chapters of Winnie the Pooh.Here we are after dinner Saturday, just a few hours before Finn made his grand entrance. I love this picture, even though it's blurry--my last photo of my sweet boy before he became a big brother, before we all jumped off the cliff that is birth and the addition of a new life to our family.


Before lunch Sunday we are home again, but a family of four now. Oliver was so excited to meet his baby brother, although not so excited about his name. He had a lot to tell us about his first night apart from me; how he had been so sad when we left (me too! Leaving him was heart wrenching), how he and Grandma and Grandpa had sat on the couch and told stories for a long time, then all gotten into bed together and gone to sleep; how he had woken up and played, and waited for us to come home with Finn. And then he went on with his day, like he'd been a big brother forever, and having a new baby at home was pretty cool, but would Grandpa play another round of Mechanic, please?

So, Oliver seemed to adjust pretty darn smoothly to this new reality. Sure, there was a bit of a potty regression, and a certain wild glint in this eyes when asked to put on PJs or brush his teeth, and he did manage to get himself trapped behind the bed on my first solo afternoon a week after Finn's birth, just as I sat down to nurse--but overall, he just moved on with his life as if he acquired a new brother every day.

The adjustment for me, and particularly in my relationship with Oliver was a little bumpier. There were some hard nights early on, when Oliver woke and wanted me and Finn woke too and needed me, and I had to leave my crying firstborn in the capable arms of his daddy to tend to my newborn. Most of all, I had to adjust to a new way of seeing Oliver--not just as my baby, but as this big, capable, verbal, smart kid. How did that happen so fast?



Lately, when Oliver tests me (oh, all the time it seems!) or cries hysterically because he needs to sit in my lap when I read to him, but Finn is nursing, or clings to my neck so I'll carry him everywhere around the house, I feel like the other shoe is dropping for him a bit and he is realizing just how big a deal it is to have to share me all this time with this attention-sucking little brother of his.

When I feel impatient, I remember his baby-self--gazing into those deep brown eyes, smelling his milky sweetness, feeling him snuggled up to me all night, and hold him closer now, his long-legged, lean, muscled, grimy, powerful three-year old body leaning into mine hungrily. And then I listen to him tell a tall tale about conveyor belts, cranes, and cookies that ends "Pop! And they jumped right off the belt into our mouths!" and think "How did I get so lucky?"

Playful Parenting

Alonso and I read Playful Parenting by Lawrence Cohen recently. Actually, we read it for the first time when Oliver was a baby and loved it, but now he is three and we actually need some of the tools Cohen describes we thought it would be a good idea to brush up.

The concept is simple: kids act out of a desire for connection. When they feel disconnected from us, they will be harder and harder to deal with until we find a way to reconnect. Play, whether physical or verbal, is a powerful way to proactively strengthen that connection, and locate it when it has been broken.

The book is full of great examples, and it looks so effortless and logical on the page. In reality, of course, it's a lot harder to put into practice when you're just trying to get in the car so you can be on time for an appointment, it's raining, the baby is wailing and the big kid is running back and forth across the living room with both legs in one side of his pants yelling "I have a tail! I have a tail!" When I remember to use them, though, the strategies Cohen suggests can be really effective.

So how does playful parenting look in our house? This afternoon Oliver was collapsed in his bedroom like the cat from Peanuts with no bones--remember how the little girl had to carry her cat everywhere? Well, when Oliver is tired out he gets upset and goes into boneless cat mode. With bonus whining. "I can't do aannnyythiiingg. I just have to lay here forever." He's pretty persistent, and this can go on for quite a while. Funnily enough, ordering him to stop is totally ineffective. Leaving him alone until he gets bored and moves on just seems to escalate things. Threats? Nope. Bribes? Sure that would work, as long as I'm willing to use them for every single thing I ever want him to do. No thanks. So today I gave him a dose of Magic Mama Eyes. "Oliver, I have some medicine to help you feel better. You have to look right at me--I'm going to zap it into you through my eyes." Commence a minute or two of staring into each other's eyes and lots of giggles, followed by small boy miraculously able to play on his own for a few minutes while I got poor Finn nursed and changed. Whoohoo, it worked! It doesn't always, believe me, but when it does it is so very, very sweet.