Preschool Program

In mid-May Calvin brought home the cutest invitation from preschool. It looked like this:

(Calvin being oh-so-pleasant)

We were so excited about the boy's first end of year preschool program. One day when I picked Calvin up from school, a little girl yelled, "Calvin doesn't sing!" so I asked his teacher about it. She said that he was struggling with singing time and didn't like to participate, but she offered to make him a CD of the songs and bring it over so that he could practice at home.

We started a reward chart and practiced several times a day. Most days he sang and danced to the songs, and knew every word by heart. One day he dramatically crossed his arms, stamped his foot, and yelled, "Mom, I'm just a dancer, not a singer!" but for the most part he did a great job. I couldn't wait to see the program.

We got there early to get a good seat, and everything was decorated in an adorable zoo theme. We, like the other parents, waited anxiously for our little sweetheart to perform.

All of the kids came on stage looking darling and so excited to see their parents watching them. All of them sang with excitement and gusto, except for one little girl that was sobbing. I was so glad that for once it wasn't my kid misbehaving.

He was so cute. He knew all of the words. He knew all of the actions. I was so proud of him that I found myself getting teary as I watched him.

And then....
When it was time for him to put on his animal hat (they even let him be the lion, his favorite animal), he threw it on the floor, crossed his arms, and pouted while everyone else sang.

Then he started to scream. We tried to coax and plead and threaten from our place on the second row, but he ignored us by turning his back to the crowd and facing the wall with his arms across his chest. And then he just left. In the middle of a song, he stormed out the front door. I debated whether to go after him because the door was behind the singing kids, but since the school is on a busy highway and I wasn't sure if he was heading outside, I cut through the singing kids to go find him. I'm glad all of the parents recording their children will have pictures of an obnoxious three-year-old storming out, and his obnoxious mother chasing after him.

In the hall, I begged and pleaded and threatened him again, and finally bribing him with a trip to Toys R Us was enough to get him back in with the other kids, although he continued to face the wall. Just as the kids sang their final note, Calvin turned around to face the crowd, squatted down, clenched his fists, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "NOBODY HATES ME!!!" (Clearly he meant everybody, because what's the problem if nobody hates you?) The room was silent. His timing is impeccable.

Anyway, I was sad. And slightly embarrassed. But mostly I was disappointed that he had worked so hard on the songs, and that his grandma had promised to come but forgot, but mostly because I wanted him to have such a good experience and he didn't.

Here's his post performance picture with a sad face and tears in his eyes:

At the end we had refreshments, and there was a table set up with a letter for each child with a cute little lion paperclip.

This letter represents one of the things I adore about Calvin's teachers -- the personal touch they add to everything. They treat Calvin like he's something really special, and I have no doubt that each of the children feels the same way. Inside was an assessment of his performance over the school year. Basically he got great scores on academics, but all of his behavioral marks were "Needs Improvement." Apparently he has a hard time following directions, waiting his turn, and playing cooperatively. Who knew? But the best part was the handwritten letter from his teachers. It said:

Three things we love about Calvin:

His laugh is contagious. If Calvin is laughing, we are laughing! The best part about it is that you really never know what is going to set him into a fit of laughter.

Calvin is constantly surprising us with his broad knowledge and his ability to remember things. For example, his ability to name shapes, not just regular ones, but the random ones like hexagon, pentagon, etc. Also, he easily recognizes the dots on a die and names their value without counting. Basically, his knowledge far exceeds what is normal for his age!

Without fail whenever Calvin chooses a color it will be black. He always makes black look good!

Overall, I think he had a really good experience with school. He adored his teachers, and was proud of the work he brought home. Also, the last day of school they had a pj party. For months Calvin has fought us to stay in his pajamas all day every day, so he was convinced the pajama party was just for him. I think he's eager for a summer break, but he asks every day when it will be fall so he can go to school in his pajamas again. 5/19

And we're back...

It's not hard to tell that I'm having a hard time blogging these days. I have so many posts to catch up on, but I feel summer slipping away so quickly that I have a hard time sitting down to journal what's been going on.

This summer I've been finishing up projects I've had half-finished for ages, doing yard work like it's a full time job, playing with my kids full of guilt that in a few weeks they're going to be neglected babies once again, trying to work out and lose a few pounds, keeping the house mostly clean, attempting to find recipes that have some actual nutritional value rather than the mini-corndogs and tatertots that the kiddos prefer, working on the alumni collection project for which I'm a research assistant spring/summer term, working with my thesis director and writing a prospectus that's due soon after school starts, and creating lesson plans for the two different subjects I'll be teaching in the fall. Who said summer was supposed to be relaxing?

Yet, it has been.

I'm not a summer fan. I love fall and I love spring. The time in between is usually just a nuisance to me. But not this summer. I've loved spending time at home and getting things done. I've loved shaving my legs on a regular basis and painting my toe nails pretty colors. I've loved having visitors. I've loved going to the pool and eating ice cream sandwiches on the back porch. I've loved scrubbing toilets and dusting surfaces that haven't been touched for longer than I care to admit. I'm sad it's going ever so quickly.

But alas, I also promised myself that I would catch up on this blog before another hellish semester starts, so I'm committing today to dust off my laptop. To take my camera to the shop after months of having a broken lens. To try and document the pieces of our lives that are long past. Someday my kids will thank me, I'm sure.

Testing... Testing... Is anyone still out there? If you are, be prepared for an onslaught of totally random, outdated posts. I hope you're all having a fantastic summer as well.

Joys of Motherhood

Autumn has turned from the sweetest, most mild-mannered child I've ever seen to a feisty independent little spitfire who climbs, spills, and throws anything she can get her hands on. She climbs on the table scavenging food, but refuses to eat her meals. She screeches loudly if she doesn't get everything she wants. She drives me batty in ways that only a toddler can.

But today was by far the most I have ever wanted to beat her.

I put her down for naps, she laid down, and I thought she was asleep so I went to work on the boy. As I laid down with him, I could hear her talking to herself, but I had to finish getting Calvin to sleep before I went in and checked on her or he would be up again. Finally when the boy was asleep, I went into the nursery.

The smell hit me first. And then the pleased grin of the little girl who was wide awake. And then the fact that she had no pants on. And then it all came in a rush. She had pooped her diaper, and then taken off her diaper, and then she smeared the mushy brown paste all over herself, her crib, and her blankets. I can't be sure, but it seems that there may have even been some rolling around in the stuff involved as well.

It's days like this that I want my career back.

Conversations with Calvin

These days the boy vacillates between being the biggest pain in the rear, to this witty, intelligent, adorable little thing that we can't get enough of. We started a reward chart for him to work on behavior for things like meal time and bedtime. The past few days have been a dream as he's gone out of his way to share, eat his food, go straight to bed, clean up his toys, change out of p.j.s without a fight (he wants to wear them all day everyday) and otherwise be a cheerful and delightful boy to have around. Today he finished his sticker chart, and his reward of choice was:
He wandered around the house all day saying, "Mom and Dad, thank you so much. This is the best day I've ever had." He's spoiled, so I can't imagine that getting a new toy was really that dramatic, but I think he is really proud of himself that he worked hard for it and earned it.

One funny conversation when we started the chart:
Dad: If you want Bullseye, you'll have to earn him. You'll have to do good things until you have enough stickers to earn him.
Calvin: But that's not fair!
Dad: Actually, it's the very definition of fair. You do something to earn a reward, and you receive what you earned. That's exactly what fair means.

Who talks like that to a 3 year old? Made me laugh.

Anyway, he's been unbelievably well-behaved and sweet. I'm totally not above bribery if this is the result.

Also, last night we went to play in the yard and had this conversation:

Me: Do you want to wear shoes or bare feet?
Calvin: (very confused) Bare feet? What do you mean? I don't have bear feet; I only have Calvin feet.

He's a gem.

Rest in Peace, Buzz

Last week Buzz started acting lethargic, puffing his feathers out huge, and laying on the bottom of the cage. I found out everything I could about sick finches and started him on antibiotics, and lots of other things that I hoped would help him get better. I watched them constantly, and Jessie was the sweetest thing ever. She would sit next to him on the perch, letting him lean on her for support. On the days when he looked bad, she'd be extra loud and jumpy, and I imagine it was her letting me know he needed help. Yesterday he looked better and I thought he was improving, but today he didn't come out of the nest at all. I checked on him before naps and he was huddled up in the nest breathing heavily. An hour later, he was gone.

The last pet I had before the birds was in high school. He was a 3ft long iguana named Ike (I was studying Eisenhower at the time). Much to my mother's horror, he roamed freely in my room. During the day he would sit on the windowsill, basking in the sunlight. When I would lay on the couch to read, he would watch me from his perch above me, and then suddenly jump on top of me. I would laugh and pet him, and then he would climb the handles on my dresser to the top of the bunk bed, and do it all over again. He had a funny little personality and I adored him. One day he caught cold, turned black, and nothing we did could save him. I cried for a week straight.

This is why I don't do pets. It's too bloody sad.

I had a little funeral for the bird while Andy kept the kids busy. I hid in a closet and got the tears out, and then tried to decide what to do. I couldn't leave Jessie alone, but I couldn't handle the thought of buying another bird and reliving the cycle over and over. Carrie called some good family friends from our old neighborhood who raise finches. They agreed to take her. I was sad to be a failure and give her away, but when I dropped her off, they showed me their bird set up and I knew she was in the best possible hands.

They had a webcam set up inside of a nest so that they could watch baby birds hatch without disturbing them or the mama. How awesome is that? As soon as Jessie heard the other birds, she went crazy with excitement. She's in a good place, even though I'm sure she'll miss her little buddy. Buzz and Jessie. They were perfect for each other.

Rest in peace, little friend. It's quiet around here. We miss you both already.