I was in D.C. for President Obama's Inauguration last week and was gone four days. When I returned home, none of the boys knew how to handle their strong feelings. Max gave me the cold shoulder, and Oliver and Wesley grabbed scissors and cut holes in a pillowcase, a comforter, and Max's clothes (while he was wearing them). I didn't really mind -- I understand the impulse to be destructive when someone you love isn't there when you want them to be.
But it raised the question, "What is good for cutting?" Early this morning, Oliver got his red scissors and sat on my lap. We talked for a very long time, and it went something like this.
Oliver (O): No cutting your chair, mommy?
Mommy (M): No cutting the chair.
O: No cutting the pillow?
M: No cutting the pillow.
O: No cutting the blanket. No cutting my feet. No cutting my toes. Only cut the paper.
M: Yes, only cut the paper.
O: No cutting my hair. Only cut the paper. No cutting the cup. No cutting my mouth. Only cutting the paper, mommy?
M: Yes, only cut the paper.
O: No cutting the alligator on my jammies. No cutting the ladybug on my jammies. No cutting my jammies.
M: Right, don't cut your jammies.
O: Only cut the paper, mommy?
M: Yes, Oliver, only cut the paper.
O: Oliver only cuts paper.
I'll bet you $10 he cuts something forbidden by the end of the day.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Look at the birds of the air (Matt. 6:26)
The other day we filled the bird feeders, one with seeds and one with suet. Oliver and Wesley and I took advantage of Max still napping -- I'd never get out birdseed when all three of them are awake. Wesley held the suet cage in his hand, extending his arm toward the yard.
"Birds, I have your food! Here it is for you. Come eat your food!", he shouted into the open sky.
Oliver said, "Birds are afraid of people, Wesley."
Undaunted, Wesley continued, "Don't be afraid birds! I have food for you!"
Then he set the suet on the back of his tricycle and biked back and forth across the deck, offering his gift.
"Birds, I have your food! Here it is for you. Come eat your food!", he shouted into the open sky.
Oliver said, "Birds are afraid of people, Wesley."
Undaunted, Wesley continued, "Don't be afraid birds! I have food for you!"
Then he set the suet on the back of his tricycle and biked back and forth across the deck, offering his gift.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Mommy's little fascist
Oliver, having eaten all of his grapefruit and now eyeing Wesley's: "Oliver wants Wesley's grapefruit."
Wesley: No, Wesley wants Wesley's grapefruit.
Oliver: WESLEY! STOP TALKING!
Oliver and Wesley have different approaches to how they relate to their environment. Wesley likes peace and comfort. He'll give away a toy, and may likely have given away his grapefruit had we not intervened, just to keep the peace. He surveys a room for blankets, pillows, jam and candy. He likes quick sensory pleasure from soft things and sugar. He's peaceable, and makes me feel more calm and relaxed when I'm with him. He also really likes to collect similar objects and then sort them, but that's probably unrelated to my point here.
Oliver, on the other hand, likes control. He approaches a situation in terms of how he can assert domninance over it. He bosses his brothers and his parents, and explains to other people what's what. For instance, it pains him to be strapped in the carseat, unable to demand that I drive one way or another -- he'll regularly cry and wail, demanding that I turn left instead of right. Then I say, "Oliver, you can't tell mommy how to drive," which escalates the crying like you wouldn't believe!
When I went into their Sunday School room this morning, Oliver was up in front of the whole class, pressing his face into the book the teacher was reading, saying "There's Oliver" into the reflective picture in the book. Wesley - the only kid not actively participating with the group - was in the back of the room, cuddling into a teacher's lap and reading a book of his own.
I can appreciate Oliver's style, because I approach life much the same way. I love the challenge of helping him channel that power into helping others instead of taking for himself. And I love Wesley's way too -- I fell in love with a man who could help me relax, find peace, and receive comfort. What a blessing to get even more of that from my son.
Wesley: No, Wesley wants Wesley's grapefruit.
Oliver: WESLEY! STOP TALKING!
Oliver and Wesley have different approaches to how they relate to their environment. Wesley likes peace and comfort. He'll give away a toy, and may likely have given away his grapefruit had we not intervened, just to keep the peace. He surveys a room for blankets, pillows, jam and candy. He likes quick sensory pleasure from soft things and sugar. He's peaceable, and makes me feel more calm and relaxed when I'm with him. He also really likes to collect similar objects and then sort them, but that's probably unrelated to my point here.
Oliver, on the other hand, likes control. He approaches a situation in terms of how he can assert domninance over it. He bosses his brothers and his parents, and explains to other people what's what. For instance, it pains him to be strapped in the carseat, unable to demand that I drive one way or another -- he'll regularly cry and wail, demanding that I turn left instead of right. Then I say, "Oliver, you can't tell mommy how to drive," which escalates the crying like you wouldn't believe!
When I went into their Sunday School room this morning, Oliver was up in front of the whole class, pressing his face into the book the teacher was reading, saying "There's Oliver" into the reflective picture in the book. Wesley - the only kid not actively participating with the group - was in the back of the room, cuddling into a teacher's lap and reading a book of his own.
I can appreciate Oliver's style, because I approach life much the same way. I love the challenge of helping him channel that power into helping others instead of taking for himself. And I love Wesley's way too -- I fell in love with a man who could help me relax, find peace, and receive comfort. What a blessing to get even more of that from my son.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Why Mommy Yells
"No yelling, mommy," Oliver called out from the back of the van. "Oliver don't like it the yelling. Be happy!"
Oliver, it's hard to explain why I was yelling, but let me try. I was yelling at Wesley because he wouldn't stay in his car seat, and I was pulling the van over to climb back there and re-seat him.
Why wasn't he properly seatbelted? I didn't snap the part between his legs, because his parts between the legs were bare.
Why was he bare? Because he peed on his pants and socks and they had turned freezing in the night winter air.
Why didn't I help him go potty? Because at that point we were still inside the YMCA where I was pinching Oliver's bloody nose while he screamed, and at the same time trying to mop up his blood off the floor and thanking the stranger who was watching Max for me.
How did Oliver get a bloody nose? Because Max ran away from the YMCA play area and Oliver offered to "help catch Max", which involved tackling Max to the ground. That was fine, other than Max screaming, until Oliver ran back to the play area and bonked his face into a metal barrier, causing the nose bleed.
Why was Max running away? Because he had already been reprimanded twice by lifeguards in the pool (for running on deck), and he was continuing to test the boundaries of running at the Y.
Why did you bother taking them to the pool? Because sometimes it's fun. This time it involved lifeguard interventions and two big slips under the water for Max. He won't hold my hand and runs away from me in the pool, and then falls under and needs rescue.
Why didn't you start yelling sooner? Now that's the best question yet.
Oliver, it's hard to explain why I was yelling, but let me try. I was yelling at Wesley because he wouldn't stay in his car seat, and I was pulling the van over to climb back there and re-seat him.
Why wasn't he properly seatbelted? I didn't snap the part between his legs, because his parts between the legs were bare.
Why was he bare? Because he peed on his pants and socks and they had turned freezing in the night winter air.
Why didn't I help him go potty? Because at that point we were still inside the YMCA where I was pinching Oliver's bloody nose while he screamed, and at the same time trying to mop up his blood off the floor and thanking the stranger who was watching Max for me.
How did Oliver get a bloody nose? Because Max ran away from the YMCA play area and Oliver offered to "help catch Max", which involved tackling Max to the ground. That was fine, other than Max screaming, until Oliver ran back to the play area and bonked his face into a metal barrier, causing the nose bleed.
Why was Max running away? Because he had already been reprimanded twice by lifeguards in the pool (for running on deck), and he was continuing to test the boundaries of running at the Y.
Why did you bother taking them to the pool? Because sometimes it's fun. This time it involved lifeguard interventions and two big slips under the water for Max. He won't hold my hand and runs away from me in the pool, and then falls under and needs rescue.
Why didn't you start yelling sooner? Now that's the best question yet.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Fair Warning: Post Rated P for Poopy
Can you tell, just by putting your nose on the backside of someone's pants, whether their waste is material or gaseous, new or old, normal-colored or diarrhea-lite, and contained in the diaper or overflowing? I can.
Have you ever seen competitive pooping? If you've ever had twins or been a twin, you probably have. We've instituted the "Poo poo for candy" system. It involves shouting "poo poo for candy" while pooping, and then receiving the obvious reward. It's difficult to have two potty-training people using the system simultaneously, because there's only one toilet. One twin sits there beaming, earning his candy, while the other has to wait outside the bathroom in the hall (or inside the bathroom, draped on the lap of the first twin).
Options:
1. Install a second toilet in the hallway outside the bathroom. James has the know-how, but does he have the will?
2. Let the second twin use a potty while the first is on the toilet. I do this sometimes, but I don't like cleaning the potty.
3. Dance around the hallway shouting "poo poo for candy" to entertain the waiting twin.
Option 3 it is.
Have you ever seen competitive pooping? If you've ever had twins or been a twin, you probably have. We've instituted the "Poo poo for candy" system. It involves shouting "poo poo for candy" while pooping, and then receiving the obvious reward. It's difficult to have two potty-training people using the system simultaneously, because there's only one toilet. One twin sits there beaming, earning his candy, while the other has to wait outside the bathroom in the hall (or inside the bathroom, draped on the lap of the first twin).
Options:
1. Install a second toilet in the hallway outside the bathroom. James has the know-how, but does he have the will?
2. Let the second twin use a potty while the first is on the toilet. I do this sometimes, but I don't like cleaning the potty.
3. Dance around the hallway shouting "poo poo for candy" to entertain the waiting twin.
Option 3 it is.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Painting
The twins' fear of getting paint on their hands is definitely, definitely a thing of the past.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Oh no! A diver!
Grandma and Grandpa read the Nemo book to the boys last November. Grandma and grandpa got to go back to their own houses, but we're stuck now with Nemo, every single day. James gave them the movie for Christmas, and they love it. "Oh no, a diver!" is the most exciting page, when the diver comes to capture Nemo. Wesley nearly lost his mind with excitement when he found these flippers and goggles in the basement. The boys like to wear them while watching Nemo, of course.
Nemo's emotional life is also of great interest. "Nemo's sad!" they say when Nemo gets caught in the dentist office tank. And at other random times of the day, they find themselves reflecting on this tragedy, and say for no reason, "Mommy, Nemo's sad."
Friday, January 09, 2009
Kids Say the Darndest Things
Age 2 may be peak cuteness in terms of chubby cheeks and legs, but age 3 is a peak (so far) of saying cute things. I promise not to send them around in mass e-mails, but I will post them here for posterity's sake.
Me: Oliver, are you adorable?
Oliver: I'm not adorable. I'm Oliver!
Me: Wesley, are you adorable?
Wesley: I'm not adorable. I'm Wesley!
Oliver's version of Deep and Wide
Deef and wide, deef and wide, dares a fountain blowing deef and wide.
Max: Apple! Apple! Apple! (I guess you had to be there.)
Me: Oliver, are you adorable?
Oliver: I'm not adorable. I'm Oliver!
Me: Wesley, are you adorable?
Wesley: I'm not adorable. I'm Wesley!
Oliver's version of Deep and Wide
Deef and wide, deef and wide, dares a fountain blowing deef and wide.
Max: Apple! Apple! Apple! (I guess you had to be there.)
Friday, January 02, 2009
Christmas letter 2008
I've closed down the Christmas letter writing for this year. We ran out of photos, so if I should have mailed you one but didn't, you can enjoy it here.
the Paris family
Christmas 2008
Every Body Has a Story
Since our daily life is all about bodies – lifting them, dressing them, bathing them, wiping them, comforting them, disciplining them – our Christmas letter is, too.
Oliver’s (age 3) hair is very short, since he shaved it with daddy’s beard trimmer. Ollie enjoys speaking about himself in the third person – when caught with the beard trimmer, he said, “Oliver is very bad. Oliver needs time-out.” Oliver likes bulldozers and is afraid of pickles.
Wesley’s (age 3) bum-bum is bare. He has launched a one-man resistance movement (mostly non-violent) against clothing, recently giving up a chance to play outside in the snow in favor of staying indoor naked. And like last year – a fascinating detail in last year’s Christmas letter which I’m sure you remember -- Wesley continues to like raisins.
Maxwell’s (age 20 mos.) gums are swollen and occasionally bleeding. He’s been getting 8 or 10 teeth in simultaneously. Max has abandoned babyhood and is pursuing standard American masculinity with, well, abandon – he loves electronics, flirting with girls of all ages, and instigating conflict with his brothers.
James’ calluses are maturing, as he has ramped up his part-time electricial work. The boys mistook him for a diver and thought, when he drove away to work, that James was going to catch Nemo in a net (it’s a long story), but now they understand that “Daddy fixes lights.” His major professional accomplishment this year, in their admiring eyes, was turning on our Christmas tree lights.
After weaning Max this fall, Jenell’s oxytocin levels (the nursing hormone) are back to normal. After five years of constant reproductive stress, I’m feeling a little more like myself again, and am hoping for better energy in the new year.
We hope you and your loved ones are well, in body and spirit. May the New Year be good to you.
Love,
Jenell and James
Wesley, Oliver and Max
† Ian, Gordon, and Simon
Thursday, January 01, 2009
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