Cute Stuff Eleanor Says
Lately, the Eleanor-isms have gotten so precious, I can’t stand the thought that one day I’ll forget them all. There’s the just-plain-cute stuff, like yesterday when she told me she loves cats… especially Mouthy! Then, there’s the stuff she says all the time, like:
She calls everything “awesome, cool.” As in, “Momma, watch me turn on my awesome, cool new night light!”
She always answers yes/no questions with an exaggerated “Sure, why not?”
She follows “good-bye” with “See you to-mario-day!”
Her favorite mantra: “Suck, suck, suck on a lollipop.”
Her imaginary friends, so far, include: Hippy Andre, Ticca and Dicca (twin rats), and Da-Da-Doo.
Getting Back Into the Swing of Things
Well, I know I had kind of neglected my blog, before Christmas. I was just so busy–the time got away from me. And, then there was the necessary and anticipated absence of Christmas vacation when Stephen and I took little Eleanor down to Atlanta and Charlotte to show her off to all her family. And, now that we’ve been back in Vancouver for two whole weeks, I have not taken the time to catch my readers up. What a bad blogger I am!
It’s not that I don’t make time to get online–I do!–but, to be honest, I found a new addiction right before Christmas. Mom, you may recall that one of the items on my Christmas wish list was a subscription to a magazine called Practical Fishkeeping. Well, it turns out, I don’t really need the magazine in print because, not only are all the articles available online, they have a very active forum that just keeps drawing me in. In a month of membership I’ve put up almost fifty posts! Granted, they’re not nearly as long as ranty as some I’ve written here, but still… 50! First thing every morning, I have to check my forum. Seven a.m. is still peace-and-quiet-coffee-break time (Eleanor doesn’t usually get up until until 8 or 9). And, at this time I have every intention of updating rainraingoaway (especially because we’re in the thick of the rainy season and the rain rain just will not go away), but because I’m 8 or 9 hours behind the majority of the members on the UK-based PFK forum, there are always multiple replies waiting for me, and of course I just have to reply to those and then I just have to check out all the new posts that magically appeared while I was sleeping. Is this crazy?! No, it’s just that fishkeeping is a darn addictive hobby. Ask anyone on the forum, having a single successful fish tank doesn’t last long–you want another one and then another… In fact, two is no longer enough for me. I added a pair of German Rams yesterday to my larger aquarium, bringing that one near completion as far as stocking goes, and already I’m planning on a third, much bigger one… and maybe a small brackish water tank–I’ve never kept a brackish tank before–and maybe also an extremely low-tech tank in which I follow all the “don’t’s” of the fishkeeping hobby (like don’t use soil for substrate and don’t use sun for light–sounds silly doesn’t it?) Well, there’s only one way to find out; I’ll just have to set up that tank…
Well, any plans for a much larger aquarium are on hold for now because we are waiting to hear back from a local housing co-op where we’ve applied for membership. If we get in, and I’m fairly confident we will–it’s just a matter of time–there may be a big move in store for us soon and I don’t want to have to move a really big fish tank in addition to everything else I own. If we can make this move, though, it’ll be good. We already know a couple people in the co-op because they have children the same age as Eleanor. There’s a daycare for 3-5 year-olds on site and a really good primary school right across the street. I’ve got my fingers crossed…
And, hey! if we get in–when we get in–maybe we’ll have a little more room to accommodate some of my “new” furniture! I’m the proud new owner of a worn-out, but still very classy Eames chair–the classic leather and bent-wood rocker. This Christmas was, in part, a sad one for me because I had to say goodbye to my childhood home. Plans have been made to store some of the more memorable pieces of furniture for me (and I am so grateful to those who made it possible to do so), but I will never go back to 1914 again.
One of the neatest things about an old house like that is the history that it comes with; unlike with new construction, an old house has a life of its own. That house was and always will be part of my life, but I was part of its life, too–and an old house always has a life beyond just “housing” its owners and their things. That house in particular had little pieces of history–little flourishes that were not built for me or for anyone else, but simply to give the house Quality–little things like the telephone shelf with a hide-away for the cords and phonebook. And, then, there are little touches that get added over the years that were never part of the builders plan but that, nevertheless, result in a certain irreplaceable Quality. (I’m capitalizing the word Quality here to emphasize that I do not just mean that it was quality; rather, I’m speaking in the vein of Robert Persig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.) The house at 1914 was literally a diary that spanned close to forty years. A previous owner’s daughter started writing on the basement wall in the early 70’s when her family moved into the house; her first entry read “Hello House!” She didn’t flesh out the details of her life by any means, but she dropped by every so often to record her height, the day she got her braces off, and, twenty years later, the day her parents moved out. Her last entry was “Goodbye House.” Realizing that this was something special, my family renovated the entire house and left this one wall alone. I added a few entries to the diary wall over the years that I lived there and this Christmas when I was “home” for the last time, I added my own goodbye to the wall. My hope is that future owners will have the good sense to leave the wall alone.
That being said, Christmas was good. The most exciting part, the part that I most looked forward to, was showing Eleanor off to all of her adoring family. I guess every parent feels this way, but I am so proud of her. I think the world of her and I was excited to have everyone else see the Eleanor that I see everyday. I think she more than impressed everyone! And, of course, we are so appreciative to have all the new clothes and toys for her. She has been so much better than before about entertaining herself with her toys (I think she had out-grown all her old toys). She especially loves her new Duplo blocks. Personality-wise, I think all the cousin-exposure (for those on my side of the family that may not know, she is one of 12 grand-children on Stephen’s side) was good for her; she really matured a lot. It’s like she’s a two-year-old now! When her birthday comes around–on Valentine’s Day!–we’ll be taking her to Science World for a fun treat (as if her scientist father and my aquariums aren’t already fostering a regard for science in her). In a similar vein, we took her to the new Georgia Aquarium while we were in Atlanta. It was amazing! It made me want to resum e my volunteer work at the Vancouver Aquarium, if only I had the free time…
Getting back into the swing of things work-wise and Ellie-wise has been quite an adjustment. No one really wants to return to work after a holiday, but we were so spoiled over Christmas having so many other people around that we didn’t have to entertain Eleanor every second of the day, that the real adjustment has been getting back to the daily grind of child care. I know it’s worth it, though. Speaking of, it sounds like my peace-and-quiet-coffee-break is over. Eleanor beckons.
I hope to keep you all updated more regularly from now on. I’m not making any resolutions about it, but here’s hoping!
Preschool Rules!
In case you haven’t heard, the Vancouver Civic strike is over, which means I have been able to return in recent weeks to the tot gym with Eleanor. Don’t get me wrong, the tot gym is great–all the tricycles and sliding boards I don’t have the money or room for, for the low low price of $2.50 a visit! But, yesterday I tried out the family center’s drop-in preschool for the first time and now I’m kicking myself for not taking Eleanor there sooner. And, it wasn’t even closed during the strike (but I bet it was busy busy busy)!
Neighborhood moms had told me a while back about this place where you could go with your kid to play and do crafts. At first, I pooh-poohed getting out and about at 9 in the morning, but fortunately, the end of day light savings time has us in early-bird mode around here (well, it’s either get up an hour earlier to preserve our peaceful mornings without Eleanor or wake up with her and rush rush rush, ’cause she doesn’t seem to get that she could be sleeping in). I assumed I would be asked to at least purchase some kind of membership or pay some dues for the privilege of using their facilities, their paint and craft supplies, their toys and playground. Oh, and there’s free coffee! What does it all cost? A banana!
No lie. A banana is what I paid. Every parent brings a piece of fruit that gets cut up and split amongst all the kids at snack time. But, first comes play time! There were kids playing house in one corner, dress-up in another. There was a paint station with several easels beside the playdough table and a crafts table (where Eleanor got glue in her hair). There was a jungle gym were she first tested her strength hanging from the monkey bars and lasted a few seconds before dropping safely to the mat below. For older kids (like 3- and 4-year-olds) there were games and puzzles. Play time was absolute mayhem! They say the afternoon session is much quieter.
After play time came singing, for which Eleanor didn’t really want to sit still. She’s never had to learn a time for this and a time for that, since I pretty much follow her schedule at home. Anyway, she cried briefly because I wouldn’t let her run off to the bi-dah (the slide), but she got over it and got excited when she saw one of the nice ladies bringing around plates of fruit. Yay snack time!
Oh, and the ladies that work there are sooooooo nice! They did a great job of making me feel welcome as a first-timer and introduced me around (although I recognized a few moms and caretakers from other neighborhood programs and playgrounds). And–get this–since there are paid attendants present, once Eleanor gets more familiar with the place and the people, I’ll be able to leave her in the preschool while I go downstairs and have a coffee in the lounge! For the cost of a single piece of fruit!
I’d like to say thank you to the Canadian federal government and the city government of Vancouver for this wonderful service!
An Eleanor Update
My little smartie pants can now strings words together to communicate a whole idea or to tell me a story. The other day at the tot gym Eleanor got upset because some older kids (we’re talking three-year-olds here) wouldn’t let her play in the block house they had built. I was watching this from the bench on the other side of the gymnasium, so I had some reference for when she came over to me and said, crying, “Mommy… Allie… set… ment… chirdet… hows.” Translation: “Mommy, I’m sad and I’m mad at those children that won’t let me play in the house.” Good girl!
Well, we didn’t have to wait long before the big kids were done playing with the blocks and I started to build a new block house just for Eleanor. Unfortunately, it also wasn’t long before some other children wanted to play in our house and, though they kind of took over, I couldn’t very well send them away or condone Eleanor pushing them away. I didn’t want to show Eleanor that what the bigger kids had done to her earlier was the right thing to do. And, of course, I didn’t want to make the little kids “set” and “ment!”
Diaper Free… Well, Mostly
When I tell people that Eleanor is pretty much potty-trained at only twenty months of age, they invariably want to know what I’ve done to achieve this. Well, it’s not so much what I’ve done, but what I haven’t done that’s made it possible. Quite simply, I haven’t given root to the false, yet extremely common (for the under-two crowd), belief that you should use your pants as a toilet. Put another way, I have simply tried to raise Eleanor knowing what the potty is for even when she couldn’t use it or tell me she had to go.
To this end, Eleanor has been “toileting” in a more appropriate place at every opportunity since she was five weeks old. At first, it was the sink, although I’ve heard tell of people who keep plastic bowls or buckets near the newborn-family bed for night work. We purchased the smallest plastic potty we could find as soon as she was big enough to sit up steady on it. By “every opportunity,” I simply mean whenever I happened to get the sense that she needed, or was about, to go; obviously, it’s easier to tell in the beginning with a no. two, so we actually achieved diaper-free no. twos about eight weeks before the recent successes with no. ones. Often it happened that I made the assumption her diaper would be wet, given how long it had been since the previous change; upon removal, the diaper would prove to be dry and I would simply hold her over the sink or sit her on the potty to see if she had to go.
For many months, maybe the whole first year we were doing this, it was simply an exercise on my part, lacking any recognition or understanding on hers. But, by consistently showing her how it’s done–and without any real encouragement or pressure–she simply came to know that using the actual toilet is the way toileting is done. And why shouldn’t she have learned that from the beginning? It came completely naturally to her, I think in no small part due to the fact that she was never given the opportunity to learn otherwise, but also because she was equipped for it all along. The potty, for E, was not this strange seat that entered her life on her second birthday (or third or fourth) and gave occasion to her parents to get angry with her or become frustrated with her for not understanding what they wanted her to do. I truly think that Eleanor has done as much at every stage to recognize needing to go, communicating that need, and then doing the deed as she was physically and mentally able to do at the time.
In the last week, something must have clicked. The whole process is mentally and physically there. She’s now going for entire days at a time wearing diapers but never wetting them. She even wears panties around the house sometimes. (She’s so skinny, though, the loss of all that bulk means falls hurt more and her pants are huge.)
Contrary to what I stated above about it being easier to pick up on the no. two cues, so to speak, this whole diaper-free enterprise actually arose because of five-week old Eleanor’s thankfully-short-lived habit of grunting when she had to pee at night. Several nights in a row, she kept me awake for at least an hour grunting as if she was trying to go in her sleep. Each night, when I got her up and took her to the bathroom to change her, I discovered a dry diaper. Each night, the dry diaper was soon followed by a wet diaper and a wet counter. Since she wasn’t get any wear out of these diapers, it seemed a waste that I should still have to toss it in the diaper pail. I figured, every diaper I kept out of the diaper pail meant I could go a little bit longer without having to wash and fold a load of cloth diapers.
Wait: rewind a few months to the pregnancy workshop I attended at a local community center. The discussion leaders that night were Hope and Bonnie, the two-woman doula team that taught the pre-natal class I signed up for post-workshop. They were a little out there in an earth-mother-love kinda way, which is cool, but they had some kinda “out there” pregnancy and childcare books arrayed on the table, one of which caught my eye: Diaper Free, Naturally! or something like that. That’s where I first came across the ideas and methods described above, as well as some shocking data showing that the age at which “toilet-training” (a modern idea, by the way) typically begins, has risen steadily during the decades since the inception of disposable diapering (which I never would have considered even if I knew my kid could never be housebroken). Diaper companies keep making larger sizes, more specialized fits for active toddlers, and now Goodnites for bed-wetting older children. With the addition of adult diapers for the incontinent (probably just the same companies, different names), diaper makers pretty much have you for life. What’s next? Disposable underwear?
Fast-forward. So, on the fourth night, knowing that Eleanor would soon let loose all over the counter, I decided to save a diaper and hold her over the sink. I was struck by how easy the diaper-free approach really could be and I just kept doing it one diaper at a time. She was only five weeks old when we started and her floppy head posed a challenge for getting her into position, but with practice I figured out how to grasp her under the thighs and rest her head between my arms. And, best of all, the grunting stopped and I could get back to my then-favorite past-time: sleep!
