the leaders of men

maura @ 9:52 pm

So I meant to write a real post tonight, but then all of a sudden we noticed that Gus’s cheeks are very red. Further examination revealed that apparently he has a blotchy (and somewhat itchy) rash nearly all over his body. Doctor Intarwebs suggests Fifth Disease, but we are withholding final judgment until we visit a real live doctor tomorrow.

Of course this is all complicated by the fact that Gus’s current pediatricians don’t take our new insurance, and since he hasn’t been sick or needed a checkup we haven’t gotten around to finding a replacement yet. I guess we’ll be cold calling the pediatricians of Brooklyn in the morning.

Blargh, why do these things always happen at 8pm on a school night?

whoops, nearly forgot a title there

maura @ 9:23 pm

So yesterday would have been our last day of soccer, except that we ditched it a couple of weeks ago. Gus was just not into it, and we were tired of dragging a complaining kid all the way down to the bottom of the park so he could be the first one to volunteer not to go in (and roll around on the astroturf). The games were much sportier this season–we moved up an age bracket–and, while I think he does like running around and kicking the ball, he’s definitely not a star player, and doesn’t really get the whole dribbling-passing-shooting thing.

Me? I’m torn on it. Despite all of my whining I do like having something to do on a weekend morning. Gus has more AM energy than PM (until bedtime, of course), and the day always seems to go better when we get out of the house. Though we can certainly find a class or something else to do on the weekends. (I’m going to call about ice skating tomorrow!)

I am pretty far down the sporty ladder (on the klutzy rungs), but I did play soccer as a kid and it really seemed like something Gus could like, too. But I don’t know, most of the time I think the whole team sports thing is bungus. Of course it’s important to be able to work in a group. But I also think that kids get a lot of group work in many different contexts at school, from playing at recess to more organized things like gym class and building projects, etc. So I don’t really think that you HAVE to play sports to learn to be part of a team.

More than anything what keeps me worrying about sports/no sports is that horrible word: normal. Isn’t it normal for boys to like sports? Will other kids think he’s weird if he doesn’t?

(I fully realize that these are my own childhood demons rearing their ugly heads — I always felt like a nerdy weirdo, even when I had a group of good friends. Until college, of course, because you can’t feel like a nerd when you’re surrounded by other nerds!)

But it’s stupid for me to worry, for so many reasons:
1. No one is weird in NYC, because everyone is. That’s one of the reasons why we live here!

2. I have never seen such a strong sense of self-confidence in a small person than I see in Gus. Seriously, when he was about 3 he once shouted a kid twice his age (and 3x his size) right off the slide, so he could climb up it. I don’t know where he got it — certainly not from me.

So I shouldn’t worry. And I try not to. If only parenting weren’t so completely judgementified these days, it would be so much easier.

Normal, normal, normal — isn’t it just a town in Illinois? Of course it is.

i’ve got your p.o. box number

maura @ 7:38 pm

“Yes, yes I would, yeah baby, yeah!”

That’s what Gus just said when Jonathan asked him if he’d get cherry pie again someday. He had some over the weekend at his school’s fundraiser. It was a good time, as ever, if a bit chilly this year. What with the wind most of the littler kids ended up in the gym, running around like crazed monkeys hitting each other with inflatable spongebob and spiderman hammers that their pushover parents bought for $3 each (us included). Just remember, kids, it’s only fun until someone loses an eye! Or gets hit in the face with an inflatable hammer, as it turns out.

When we got there the high school band was playing, by which I mean 3 kids w/guitars + drums (rather than the kind with uniforms + woodwinds). You know you’re an old lady when all you can think is OMG they are so cute with their pop-punk + guitar solos + crazy tight purple pants. Gus was positively enthralled with the drummer: “look, he has cymbals and a drum with a pedal on the floor!” Not exactly the best choice for apartment living, but maybe we’ll have to figure something out. When they came offstage I heard one of them telling a parent to check their myspace. Adorable!

so sad to see you fade away

maura @ 10:02 pm

Gus wins the admiration of 3rd graders + kindergarteners alike w/his mad gameboy skillz (and his awesome brown hat):

and why 2 plus 2 makes 4

maura @ 10:13 pm

Status Update, From What Has Become The Blag of Whining:

1. We’ve all adjusted fine to falling back (11/2’s post). I like that it’s light when we get up, though I don’t like leaving work in the dark.

2. The cats still like their low-rent kitty condo (11/3’s post). Jonathan made a tunnel in out of an old cereal box and now it’s fresh and new!

3. I emailed some friends about Gus’s hope for Obama’s presidency (11/4’s post), only to discover that their kids think that Obama will abolish homework. Foolish children.

4. The Pratt mug is nice + deep + good for tea (11/5’s post).

5. My leg is a lot better (11/6’s post), but still not 100%. But it’s better enough that tomorrow I may get off the subway 1 stop early and take the stairs at work. Living on the edge!

6. Tonight we are trying a New Sleep Plan, in which we leave the door to Gus’s room open in a (vain?) attempt to stave off whatever sleep issues may arise (11/9’s post). We will see if it works.

get off my hill tiny man

maura @ 3:53 pm

Last xmas my mom got Gus a couple of fairy tales on tape for the car. We hadn’t listened to them in ages but pulled them out again recently in a desperate attempt to keep him awake on the ride home from school (which is only 15 min long but they run ’em hard in kindergarten so he is often exhausted).

Gus’ favorite tape is read by Margot Kidder. He especially loves Puss in Boots, The Frog Prince and The Brave Little Tailor. Ms. Kidder actually does a great job reading the stories, even breaking into a few different voices for each character*. We’ve found ourselves spontaneously breaking out in pieces of the stories around the house: e.g. “Youngest princess! Keep your promise to me youngest princess!” in a froggy voice.

* The other tape is read by Ed Begley, Jr., who is somewhat more sleep-inducing and less entertaining.

Hey, it’s Buy Nothing Day — don’t forget to fight the consumerist agenda, you stinky hippie!

it’s a different walk of life that i’ve come to know

maura @ 10:19 pm

I cannot believe how quickly the summer has gone by. This has been a busy one, but a fun one. There are still some things we didn’t get to do that I wish we’d done. We didn’t go to Governor’s Island, or raspberry picking or to the sprinkler playground on the West side. We didn’t go to Staten Island (though we can do that in the fall). But we did go to the Met (and rode on the M3 as a bonus, which was a thrill for Gus: “I’ve never been on an M bus before!”). And to the Red Hook Pool, swoon, which will be closed after Labor Day (unlike the sprinklers). And just this past weekend we went pedal-boating in he park, which was fun once we settled into it. Gus’ legs are really too short to pedal, but he’s a tenacious little guy so we muddled along with him pedaling and grumping, then when he got tired we pedaled. And rode the trolley home, hooray!

(I’m well aware that I am wasting the linklicious powers of the internets by not adding links to all of those places mentioned in the above paragraph, but I’m tired and you all have google powers of your own, don’t you?)

In other news, this is my last week at work, which is all at once exciting, sad and freaking me out. More than anything it’s making the running voice track in my head into a third-person narrative, which is alternately engrossing, boring or annoying. Things like “she walked up the stairs of the subway station, counting the steps as she always did, realizing that she’d only be doing this for a few more days.” Yawn. Why can’t my inner life be more interesting than my outer?

But I am really really ready to be doing the library thing all the time. Tonight there was an orientation down at school and it just increased my agita to get with the program.

So here’s a question: why is it that I always seem to find a way to mention to my new library friends + colleagues that I have a kid? It’s odd, I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first, but even though I’m aware of it now I can’t seem to stop it, even if I try. I guess it’s because these are the first people I’ve met in a long time not in the context of being a parent (as opposed to meeting other parents at Gus’ school, for example). Interesting.

Or not, as the case may be. I like my tenacious, transit-loving kid. And I missed him tonight, going straight from work to Pratt. And that’s definitely reason enough to talk about him.

brandy on the carpet and chartreuse on the armchair

maura @ 9:29 pm

Can someone please tell me why we have not managed to make it to the Red Hook Pool until today? Seriously, we are dumb! Because a fantastic time was had by all three Smillers today. First stop: the pool, which is just enormous: a 4′ pool the size of Rhode Island with a 1′ kiddie pool + sprinklers right next to it (with easy parking right out front!). The sun was punishing, but there was a little shade on the edges and the pool was so nice and cool, it didn’t even matter that it was 90 zillion degrees out.

Next stop, the soccer field catty-corner to the pool, around which vendors sell incredible, amazing, freshly cooked Latin American food. J + I split a meltingly delicious chicken tamale and an enormous chorizo taco (with a handmade tortilla!). Gus, Senor Picky Eater, shocked us by wolfing down a pupusa con queso, which was even more surprising as he’d spent the walk from the pool to the vendors whining that he wanted a hot dog, just a hot dog, a hooooooooot dooooooooooog. And we washed it all down with a limeade. Yum!

As if that could even be topped, we decided to pull out all the calorie stops and head over to Baked (best. bakery. name. ever.) for a sugar fix (a.k.a. desperate attempt to keep Gus from falling asleep in the car on the way home*). We split a yummy lemon cake (with lemon curd between the layers and lemon buttercream frosting) and brought home a lemon lime bar and this crazy peanut butter + chocolate cake. Yum YUM!

And no, we didn’t go to Fairway (ample parking be damned, how could we ever cheat on the Food Coop?). Red Hook is so pretty, so urban yet so quiet, like a small town in the city. I think we shall go every weekend!

* which didn’t work: he was out by the time we crossed the Gowanus. We parked the car on our street and then everyone napped for 45 minutes.

In other news, that cute blond monkey named Veronica Mars is finally off our back. We watched the finale of season 2 last night. Two whole seasons in 24 days, is that some sort of record? Some sort of dorks-with-no-life record, maybe. ANYway the finale was satisfying in some ways (Veronica + Logan TLA! Bye-bye Harry Hamlin! And of course we knew the Mayor would turn into a demon!) but not in others: hello, BEAVER is the evil mastermind??? That just seems kind of contrived. And the Jackie with a kid thing is kind of lame, too. But we will be front and center for season three, on that new weird country + western network. Yee-hah!

with your feet on the air and your head on the ground

maura @ 2:19 pm

For a few days last week Gus had an imaginary friend named Pickle. Apparently he was a giant pickle (duh) with big ears that curled up onto the top of his head. However, he was also small enough to fit into Gus’ pocket. Gus would talk to Pickle by yelling down the inside of his t-shirt, which made for some hilarious scenes while walking down the street. For a while it looked like Pickle would be the fall guy in our house: “I didn’t do that, it was Pickle!” And one afternoon Jonathan had to watch Pickle in the study while Gus and I went down to the courtyard to play in the kiddie pool. But then Pickle disappeared and we haven’t heard from (or about) him since.

Crazy kid.

can’t fight the undertow

maura @ 1:25 pm

We’re back from our fabulous trip to the Midwest, but this week has been depressing, sad and frustrating in for many many reasons, completely trashing our stress-less vacation moods. I am still so sad about London, though thankfully all four of our friends currently living in London’s environs are fine.

So let’s sweep that downer stuff under the mental rug, pour ourselves a cup of our favorite caffeinated uppers, and recount amusing vacation anecdotes!

…or even not that amusing. We had a fantastic time. Gus was, as ever, adored and doted upon. This year there was a new, huge, motorized Thomas train set for him to direct the big people around (“Grandma, I am Thomas and you are Percy. No, go on number one track only!”). Plus a Slip-n-Slide, which admittedly gave me a little pause (I am so vain — whenever he falls I always say a little prayer that he won’t land on his beautiful face) but which was rejected by my usually cold-loving child anyway because the (well) water was too cold.

We parents slipped off to a “meeting”, overnight, in Chicago, to stay with college friends, ride the Ravenswood line, gawk like the rest of the tourists at Millennium Park, and stuff ourselves with lingonberries + potato sausage at Ann Sather’s for breakfast. Good times. We felt a little bad while riding the El — our train freak child would seriously have loved it — but the El’s not going anyplace and neither are the grandparents, so it’s not like he’ll never get his chance.

I only read ONE book (Because I Said So, which I ripped through in less than 24 hrs), but I did write in my journal three times. And we did spend about 6 hrs in the car with the Chicago trip, time which could’ve otherwise been devoted to reading. But also, I just wasn’t that into the other books I brought. I actually returned two nonfiction books to the library yesterday, mostly unread. Yes, my nonfiction love affair has been rudely broken off, thanks to Jonathan and his pesky fiction recommendation. It’s sad, really, because mostly right now I just want to go back a few weeks and read Time Traveler’s Wife again, how lame is that? But I got three mostly fiction books at the library yesterday which should hold me, I hope. The first is starting out well, at least.

Which all makes me wonder why the nonfiction glut happened in the first place. I mean, the parenting/momoir (ugh, hate that word) stuff is easy: duh, I had a kid, didn’t you know? But the other stuff, I don’t know. Maybe it’s that having-a-degree-I-don’t-use complex rearing its ugly head.

And speaking of that complex…we topped off our vacation with a visit to the Indianapolis Children’s Museum (which really is fantastic, if you have kids and happen to be in Indy you should totally go — it has FOUR floors of fun for all ages!). Of course Gus now claims that his favorite thing was “the running ramp” — the ramp spiraling up the middle of the museum, leading to each floor. We made him run up and down this a zillion times, thus insuring that he was mellow + quiet (read: tired!) on the flight home.

But I digress! There’s also a big dinosaur exhibit called Dinosphere which mostly consists of huge skeletons in a dome shaped room. The walls of the room change colors + there’s a booming sound system to imitate the weather, plant and animal sounds + visions of the Cretaceous. When we walked in here, Gus said darkly, “I don’t like this world,” like it was a video game level or something. But on the edges of the sphere there was a fake (? maybe real, hard to tell) paleontology lab. Gus had fun fitting together the rubbery, amber-colored molds and bone casts. And I made Jonathan’s stepfather take a picture of this case for me:

Look, it’s Paleontology Barbie and Ken!!! Is this not hilarious? Note her supine, loungetastic posture! Check out the spiffy attire (yes, those are tiny dinos on her shirt) and the bright pink canteen! And there’s no alcohol in sight! Surely this CAN’T be right. At least Ken is wearing latex gloves. Sigh, maybe they should hire me as an exhibit consultant.