Holding Still

misty watercolor memories...

Al and I have been reminiscing about "the good old days," aka last year. Please note subtle sarcasm.

As we remember how hard it was in the beginning, how it got easier in some ways, but stayed very difficult in others, we can see how far we've all come. All of us. Physically, emotionally, psychologically. We are all doing better. I think I only started feeling normal-ish after 9 months, and can look at things more objectively after a full year. I've always been a late bloomer, and a bit slow.

Anyway, today H. had his first meltdown in a while. It's nothing compared to a year ago, but it made me and Alex all misty-eyed. I could kind of see it coming. H. has always had a difficult time with transitions, especially transitions from something really, really fun to anything else. The end of fun. All kids have difficulty saying goodbye at a party, going home, etc. H. has a doubly hard time, AND he doesn't seem to react to sweets, particularly chocolate well. I've been mapping his recent meltdowns, and they all come after a party with chocolate. He's been to parties without chocolate, and he does not have the same reaction. The same defiance, the same stubborn refusal to leave, even though every other kid has left, party is over, lights off, crickets chirping, you get the drift.

It was definitely a bit deja-vu, what with the dissociative, glassy stare, non-responding, and the screaming. The way it was different was that it lasted a much shorter time, we were able to talk about it afterwards, and he rebounded much more quickly. And we rebounded more quickly, too.

I don't ever forget that H. has difficulty with leave-takings -- but things had been improving steadily, so a tiny regression sort of took us by surprise. If little things can trigger emotions in me, imagine how saying goodbye to one's beloved cousins could trigger, even subconsciously, the biggest leave-taking of his life.
Some may think we read too much into it, but the patterns I've been tracking are pretty consistent.

I spent some time reminding H. that his family in Ethiopia know me and Daddy, and that they want us to take care of him. They want us to make sure he rests enough, that he eats well, and well, listens to us. That he has two families, and right now, we are the ones who make rules for him, and keep him safe and healthy. He looked quite interested at this, though lately he hasn't wanted to talk about them.

We'll see! He has another birthday party to attend this weekend, so I'll check back and let you know how we all fare. I may be over-protective, but I am very tempted to bring our own "cake" so I won't have to play Russian Roulette with the chocolate. I know, you all think I'm crazy, but I'm just trying to keep my mind open to any elements that can help our guy feel good.

Next post: I'll be wearing a mimiboo exclusive hat! Very stylish, very cute.

yellow gooey liquid mother's day

Last weekend I developed an ear infection in my right ear. It subsided to a dull ache with a little homeopathy, but I still called the ENT on Monday for a visit, because it felt like it was here to stay. By Tuesday I was begging for an appointment, and got one for... Friday. Hmm...

Excruciating agony wasn't a convincing enough description, I guess. I had a few antibiotics left over from a course that was changed midway, so I was told to take them as I waited for Friday. By Wednesday morning I wasn't able to hear out of either ear very well. That's right, the left ear decided to join the party!

I've had fluid in my right ear for a while (residual damage from my auto-immune fun), so the hearing there hasn't been stellar. It got worse with the infection, and then somehow I managed to get fluid in my LEFT ear while irrigating the old nose. Wonderful. The left ear doesn't work so well now, the ringing was INTOLERABLE, and I cried myself to sleep twice waiting for the Advil to kick in. By Thursday the meds started to help, the pain wasn't as intense, and I actually went to TWO Mother's Day events at the boys' school AND I taught two pre-K origami classes. Believe it or not, the near-deafness improved my teaching (and my parenting!). If you can't hear what they're saying, you just have to let go. You focus on the important missives (More glue, blue pencil please and unbuckle my belt so I don't pee my pants), and forget the rest (she hit me, he won't share, I can't do this). You are more careful with your visual instructions, you slow down and cause the kids to slow down in the process, and you notice how visual little kids who can see ARE. I always knew I talked too much when I taught, now I'm a convert to shutting my trap and using my silence and body movements more.

With the boys it's been helpful, too. I just can't hear them complaining. It's lovely. If something is important, they know enough to come to me and speak clearly into my ear. It slows down the drama.

An unexpected Mother's Day gift of near-deafness!

Seriously, though, it has sucked a lot. I did make the best of it, but when I went into the office I begged him to do what I've wanted and been denied for years -- tubes. Let them drain, dammit! He did it in the office, and boy did it hurt. I writhed. I whimpered. Yes, he used a numbing agent, but because both my eardrums are swollen to five times their size and scabby, the numbing agent could only go so far into the drum. As he pushed the tubes in farther, the pain began in earnest. I chanted my newly learned meditation chant in my head and yoga-breathed like a yogini on speed (if there is such a thing).

Ouch.

Interestingly, once the tubes were in, the pain stopped, my hearing improved an iota (now everything sounds just far away and not far away AND underwater). I have pain intermittently, but I slept through the night last night (without crying, as far I know), and my hearing pops in and out as the fluid drains. And boy does it ever! It is one of the most disturbing things I've seen and experienced, if you want the fluidy-good details. Mmmmmm! I wear cotton in my ears just so as not to gross out the innocent strangers I pass at the grocery store.

The boys have rolled with it all. Habtam was worried when I was in pain and kept checking in on me, sweetie that he is. Lire kept asking me, "Dead?" I tried to determine if he was asking if I was dead now, or if I was going to die. It was the latter, so I assured him I wasn't going to die anytime soon. "Yeah?" he asked matter-of-factly. Yeah. Hopefully.

They are intrigued by the yellow liquid flowing like golden sunshine from my ears, since H. had this early on with his perforated eardrum. Now we both must wear wax plugs in our ears whenever we swim or wash our hair. Like mother, like son.

Wish me better hearing soon. And I will wish all of you a Happy Mother's Day, whether still waiting for your child(ren) or already ensconced with them as I write. Hope your day was easy and free.

Earache my eye!

I went to a meditation/yoga workshop this Sunday. Boy, does my butt hurt! (cue the Rodney Dangerfield chuckle) I got some interesting things out of it for myself, which I'm going to work on as soon as my ear stops hurting (why, why ear, must you pain me so?). I also chatted with a woman who told me about Ted.com and this particular interview, which is pretty cool. Once I read it, I felt like such a wimp for crying through my ear pain (yes, I cry. A lot). I tried to get into a witness stance, but all the witness could say was "Please. Make. It. STOP!!!!"

She also told me about freerice.com. I'm a word nerd of sorts, so I enjoyed it, and it provides a very useful service. Sounds like a good idea for teens who like words or who need to work on their SAT vocab.

Enjoy!

the weeping birdwatcher

Today Lire spit at his brother's food from across the table as they ate their afternoon snack. Nice.

When asked if he in fact did as Habtamu described (Mommy, Daddy! Lire did something really bad... he spit at my food!), we were greeted with a stony silence. Lire's cheeks were full of apple juice, his juice bottle tipped at an angle with which to imbibe more of the offending spit fuel.

He swallowed and said, "I go downstairs."

Daddy: That's a good idea. Please go to your room

Lire doesn't budge. I ask him if he'd like me to help him go downstairs. He nods. I go to hold his hand. Rejection. I pick up the little man and carefully carry his 40 lbs down the stairs and place him gently on his bed.

Lire: I no talk anymore (muttered)

Me: Ok (cheerfully)

Lire: HEY! (surprised and offended)

I went upstairs to help remove a tick from our beleaguered pup as Habtamu watched in disgusted excitement. I carried the tick down the stairs to flush it and heard "Mommy?"

Me: Yes Lire?

Lire: Mommy hup? (help)

I opened the door and saw our little man attempting to put on his pjs "awl by self," because it's "easier."

While this was going on H had gone to watch "Word World." Lire went upstairs expecting to find Habtam, but nobody was there but the birds out the deck window.

Lire: I say sorry Habtam! Where Habtam?

When I told little man where H was, and that he would have to wait a while to be able to watch tv with him, he became the Weeping Birdwatcher.

There's been a lot of activity at our feeder since the cool weather returned, and we saw a rose breasted grosbeak for the first time. There are two males hanging around our deck, and the Weeping Birdwatcher was glued to the window, albeit weeping.

Epilogue: The Weeping Birdwatcher eventually went to join his brother for tv time, an "I sorry Habtam" (H grunted in reply), and an amazing comeback as the Grinning Pesky Younger Brother Who Likes to Talk While Watching TV.

Nice brefts

The guys' vocabulary is developing rapidly and the way they juxtapose words can be pretty hilarious. Also when they choose to use certain words. For example a few weeks back when Lire was going to take his nap, he was being especially affectionate. I was walking out the door, and as usual I heard "Mommy?"

Me: Yes, Lire?

L: Good job, Mommy.

Me: Thanks Lire.

L: Mommy, you good brefts. (Lire-speak for breasts)

Me: Thanks Lire.

L: Mommy, you good 'gina, too. (Got that one?)

Me: Thanks Lire.

L: You good hiney, Mommy.

Me: Thanks sweetie.

Then he gave me the thumbs up and a wink, and he was off to beddy-bye.

A couple times he's told me my breath doesn't smell so good. Usually first thing in the morning, before breakfast and toothbrushing. Thanks, Lire.

Monday as I buckled him into his car seat he said: "Mommy, I smell something your mouth."

"Here it comes" I thought.

L: Smell good.

Me: Yeah?

L: Smell like smoothie.

Me: Thanks Lire.

Habtamu: Mommy, you breath smell like princess.

Awwww!

Of course, beyond the compliments to my body and breath, Lire has also been spouting a bit of violence. When I used to have to hold Habtam, he (H) would shout all manner of insults and threats at me. For whatever reason, Lire has internalized them and decided to use them with new adult acquaintances. Today at the local coffee place that originated in Seattle, he met a Buddhist monk who sits at the zendo across the street from us. He doesn't dress in his robes out on the street, he was dressed like a regular guy. Anyway, I said hello, he greeted Lire, and Lire answers with, "I throw on you head!"

Monk: chuckling, "What did you say?"

Lire enacted tossing his juice at the poor man's head, adding "I throw super-high!"

I've been noticing lately that Lire especially is more self conscious when meeting adults. He never used to be, but as he's developed self awareness and language, he's gotten more, well, anxious. And this is a laid-back little man. This is when he resorts to his "Power talk" as I've coined it. Habtam does it too, but for him it's about being faster, smarter, stronger, taller. He directs his at other little boys and grown men. Usually not girls or women.

Lire does it to all grown-ups, especially really nice and gentle people. I figure it's a phase he's got to get through -- they both need to feel they are powerful and in control. But it can be a bit embarrassing when your 3 1/2 year old threatens a Buddhist monk. Or when he tells Habtamu's teacher he's going to "cut her" with his scissors.

Sheesh. To counteract the above, note the sweet little guy below sleeping with my old Cabbage Patch doll. He's dubbed him "Baby Deji" after the son of a friend of ours. He requests his presence constantly these days, which does my heart good.

holy robin, batman!

Lire likes to find "pretty things" outside. He then shows them to me and usually gives them to our little Buddha in my sewing room. These types of things include rocks, shells, shards of glass, broken pieces of plastic.

Today it was the shell from a robin's egg.

Me: Wow! Where did you find it?

Lire: Outside, on ground.

Me: (holding shell and noticing it was still sticky) Um, on the ground?

Lire: In bush, then on ground. I get big stick, I poke, poke poke bush...

Me: (!) You hit the nest?! And then the egg fell on the ground?

Lire: (noticing my alarm, he gets quiet) I get stick... so pretty...

We go outside so he can show me. Between me, Dad and Lire, we figure out that yes, our small boy has disrupted a robin's nest, poked the hell out of it and ended the very short life of one of its future denizens. We explained to him why this wasn't a good idea, but acknowledged that he didn't mean to hurt the egg or the birds, but to try not to do it again.

Once Lire realized that the egg was to become a baby robin, well, he was crushed.

Lire: I want time-out.

Me: You didn't mean it, Lire, you don't need a time-out.

Lire: Yes, I time-out.

Me: Well, if you want to, you can sit in your room and come out when you feel better.

I open the door to go in myself and hold it open for him.

Lire: I no time-out.

M: Ok.

This followed an interrupted nap which itself was followed by a tantrum brought on by having to choose between staying home with me and going grocery shopping with Daddy. Lire's choice. Then later at dinner he cried because, well, I forget why. Something having to do with mustard maybe. Or apple juice.

I think he may be having a change of life or something.

(Lire is pretending he has removed one of his eyeballs and put it into his mouth. This was learned by Uncle J. Nice.)

tiger suits and dinosaur eggs

Today was a de-gorgeous day here -- sunny, 50ish degrees, lots of yellow flowers popping up all over. Lire was still napping and Al had gone to pick H up at school. Chauncey and I were cleaning up the yard. At least I was cleaning the yard. Chauncey imagines he is my Centurion, guarding the perimeters of our property against speeding tractors and noisy pick-ups.

The boys have managed to make our yard look pretty trashy, I must say. Broken plastic frisbees and sand buckets, bubble wands aplenty, sodden tennis balls and random pieces of wood decorate our lawn. So I decided to pick up a bit while the wee lad slept. I kept the front door open, so when he awoke, he would see me.

I traversed the lawn about a million times, picking up random bits and throwing them in a bucket. I kept looking at the door for Lire's little face, listening for his usual post-nap "Mommy?... Mommy?" I found one of Al's garden spades amongst a pile of broken bricks (yikes! what do these boys do when I'm not around?). I decided to put it in his work room, to keep it from rusting when I heard the saddest sound.

Heart-wrenching sobs! I rushed to the inner door and opened it to find my sad little Lire on the other side! He was beside himself with sadness and fear that no one was home for him! Writing about it hurts my heart yet again. I've been so strict about one of us being around for the boys when they awaken, and all last summer he would come outside to look for us after a nap. I guess with the cold weather he hadn't remembered that I may be outside.

I held him and rocked him and told him I would never leave him alone, not ever. That he must have been so scared to wake up and not find anyone in the house. To add comic relief to the situation, Chauncey decided this was the perfect time to rip the hat off my head. For those of you who don't know, it's C-dog's favorite trick, next to catching the boys' tee-ball hits. He did it not once, but twice as Lire bawled and I tried to comfort him. You have to give the dog some credit, he was trying to lighten the situation.

Dad and Habtam arrived home and I carried him over to them. Fortunately, Al had a plastic dinosaur egg that hatches when immersed in water in his hand, which put a smile on his face.

It brought home (again) to me how fresh the boys' relinquishment is in their subconscious. Just below the surface of Lire's joyful exterior. I find myself thinking how terrified he must have been, and it twists my insides into a knot. You will be glad to know that he had a wonderful rest of his day. He is anxiously awaiting the hatching of the dinosaur egg, and wore his tiger suit for the bedtime story. Little man.

time was...

A year since the boys' arrival is soon approaching. We've come a long way in a lot of respects, and are still struggling in others. I've been reading a couple blogs in which the families have just recently returned, and it is bringing back LOTS of memories. Some great, some very painful.

H had another spitting/screaming episode the other day. He hadn't had one in a really long time. I feel responsible for it in some ways, I should have eased off of him. I was PMSy, and was triggered by his disrespect -- he resembles a teenager in a lot of ways. Anyway, he ended up spitting at Lire, so I carried him to his room so he could spit on his bed as I held him, and not at his brother or anywhere else in the house.

Sigh.

I held him while he screamed about how much he hated me, how he wanted to go to the store with Daddy, a few odd threats thrown in. I started to watch my breath go in and out, trying to become an observer as well as a participant to the situation. I realized I should have stayed downstairs and ignored a few of his earlier activities and words. None of this would have happened, and who cares if he trashed the piano?

I think my conscious breathing calmed him. He stopped fighting me and his shrill scream turned into a little boy's crying. I said a few things that validated how he might feel -- angry at me, afraid, not liking when people didn't like the things he did and being told to stop doing those things. He nodded at most of them, especially the last one. He said he didn't like it when people told him to stop or to change. I acknowledged that it is hard to hear people tell you that they don't like what you're doing. And I told him I didn't like it much, either, but sometimes it was to help us. I admitted that Daddy and I often told one another we didn't like what the other was doing or saying, and although it made us angry, we knew it was usually to help us make better decisions. He actually seemed quite interested in this.

Hugging ended our session, and he went outside and did yard work with Dad.

None of this really had to have happened, if I had just minded my business and let the kid be a kid. At the same time, I'm glad we ended up having the discussion we had at the end. I always feel spent and a bit of a failure after one of these blow-ups. However, I do feel I'm learning how to get through them better, H and L seem to be weathering their tantrums better and we're avoiding them more.

Craft and seek

Bad Erin!

I have been remiss in many things, one of which is getting an Etsy shop up. Instead of finishing my quilts, I've been obsessed with this book.

It's way too much fun. I would be booted off Proj@ct Runw@y faster than you can say Km@art, but I'm having a very good time. I've refashioned a baggy turtleneck sweater, an ankle-length skirt, and a hoodie. The hoodie makeover is very lame, but the sweater looks great, and the skirt has potential. I'll post pics as soon as I finish putting on buttons and finishing edges.

For now I will leave you with the latest Hide n' Seek costumes:

Tiger, tiger, burning bright -- so bright he had to wear shades

Sporty Superman -- eschewing his good-guy image he spent all afternoon attempting to rip the mask off of Tiger's face

Superman was terrified of Tiger. I think that's why he wanted the mask. He finally realized why Batman and Spiderman wore masks -- courage.

Also, I have a question. Why do boys throw things? Just curious.

let's go shopping!

At dinner last night Alex was talking to the boys about our impending visit to NYC. He mentioned that we might visit Chinatown. Habtamu stared at him for a long time. "China?" he asked. Daddy clarified that it was "Chinatown", not the country of China, and that there would be lots of interesting and strange toys to choose from while there. I mentioned that I didn't want any more small plastic things in the house (I mentioned my issues with JUNK in my last post). Habtamu stared at Daddy some more.

H: "Where I buy person?"

Us: ?

Daddy: Um, did you say "buy a person?"

H: Yes.

Me: Do you mean a person to get married to?

H: Yes?

Daddy: ?

Me: Do you think that people buy the people they want to marry?

H: Yes.

Yeah, I know. Where did THIS come from? My brother got engaged before Christmas, and over the Easter holiday asked Habtam and Lire to be ring bearers in his wedding. I'm guessing that this has taken on grand proportions in his imagination, as he is very excited to be able to wear "fancy clothes" on that day. But why he thinks my brother bought his bride-to-be, I know not.

I told him how Daddy and I loved one another very much and that Daddy asked if I wanted to marry him. I told him how I said "Of course!" and how we both wore rings to show that we were married and had a wedding to celebrate it. I told him that his uncle and soon-to-be auntie had done the same.

Then I asked him that if he could marry anyone in his class at school, who would it be? I won't divulge it here, but he made a very good choice. I told him that I would marry her, too, if I weren't already married to Daddy.

H: When I marry?

Me: You have to wait until you're a grown-up, at least 18 years old.

H: (Looks troubled by this bit of info) I marry C_____?

Me: If she wants to marry you too, sure.

Never one to be left out of such an important discussion, Lire asked to be asked whom he would marry. So we did. Lire wants to marry both of his teachers. I told him they were already married, but he didn't care.

Habtamu wondered if one could marry more than one person, so we told him that he couldn't (at least not in this country). One at a time.

I think one of the reasons he likes her is because she likes to race him. Upon entering school the other day they both ran at full tilt to see who would arrive at class first. However, later in the day she betrayed him by giving the blue jewel (plastic), he had found and given to her, to another boy. The boy in question apparently gave it to a boy in the other Pre-k class. H was temporarily devastated, but bounced back quickly.

Young love.