Too many monsters

A lot of you have heard by now about my mom, who was diagnosed last week with a brain tumor. I won't be addressing directly much about her treatment on this page except as it pertains to life with Sam, but for those of you who would like to stay in the loop I've set up a CaringBridge website. You can find it at www.caringbridge.org/visit/carolemoscato.

So, needless to say it's been a crazy week. Mark and Sam and I headed down to Portland on Sunday evening after my dad called and Sam and I just returned on Friday night. I am so grateful to the Annie and Rosemary, who were able to watch Sam on Wednesday and Thursday so that I could go visit my mom without him at the hospital (or "hopsital," as he calls it). This has all made quite an impression on him, as I'm beginning to discover. On Tuesday, he started this very vivid imaginary play involving monsters. He would gasp and point, and whisper dramatically, "There's too many monsters here!" before running away into the next room. Mark stayed with him that day, and when I got home I found the two of them banishing them with a combination of a hand wave and "Bam!" and a sneeze. I thought it was pretty cute that he was developing such an imagination, and that he and daddy had figured out a solution together. Then, he had a few potty accidents on the days I left him to visit the hospital. Not the little leaks he's done before, but full-on wet pants that seemed to surprise and scare him a bit. Then, there was Thursday night. We were on Sam's bed snuggling and going to sleep when he studied my face deeply for a few seconds, and then said quietly, "Don't die. Don't die, mommy." I was stunned. Here I've been, having these very adult conversations about my mom right in front of him, and assuming that he doesn't understand what's going on. I've talked about tumors, and surgery, my fears...he may not understand completely, but he understands enough to be scared of imaginary monsters, to lose track of when he has to go potty, and to worry that I'm going to leave him the same way his fish did a week ago.

You're right, Sam. There are too many monsters here.

Death and the toddler

"Sweetie, come sit on the bed. Mommy and Daddy need to talk to you."
Sam sits down obligingly.
"It's about Fish."
"Yeah?"
"Fish went to heaven."
"Yeah?"
"So tomorrow, he won't be in his bowl anymore."
"Yeah?"
So far this is going well.
"Daddy dump him out?"
Oh boy, a hard one. How to handle the idea of a body?
"Uhhh...he went to heaven."
Yeah, just skip over that pesky detail and focus on the positive. Bodily assumption could theoretically be possible, after all.
"He's with Jesus?"
Bingo!
"Yes, honey, he's with Jesus."
"He's happy?"
"Yes, very happy."
"He loves you?
"Yes, honey, he still loves you very much."
"Nurse?"
And we've moved on. Not sure how much of that actually sunk in. I suppose we'll find out tomorrow when he sees the empty bowl washed in the sink. Mark and I will be having our own funeral over the toilet later tonight.

Breakfast

Conversation over yogurt this morning:

"Mommy feed you?"
"Sure, honey. Are you a baby?"
"Waah, waah!"
"Should I make it a plane?"
"Yeah!"
"Vroom! Vroom! Here comes the plane! What should it be next?"
"How about a helicopter?"
"Uh, ok...Thup, thup, thup, here it comes! What next?"
"Make it a boy!"
"What? A boy?" Where does he come up with this? "What does a boy say?"
Big grin...
"Boy says, 'Hi! My name is Sam! Hi! My name is Sam!'"
I laugh. "Ok, here comes the boy! Hi, my name is Sam!"
The boy is eaten.

New baby

I should probably mention on here, since I've told pretty much everyone in person, that we're having a new baby in late Jan/early Feb. We've already told Sam, and he has a few questions.

"Baby will nurse?"
"Yes, honey, the baby will nurse, and you can help teach the baby." (It's so awkward avoiding pronouns all the time).
"Baby will come with us to the park?"
"Well, the baby lives in mommy's tummy right now, so the baby will go everywhere we go."
"Baby will come out and play with you?"
"Yes, the baby will play with you when they're older, but when they're really little they'll just sleep and nurse."
"Baby loves you?"
"I'm sure the baby loves you, honey."

Olympics!

Sam LOVES the Olympics. This afternoon was pretty rainy and low key, so we turned on CBC and watched a few of the competitions. First was diving.
"What they doing?"
"Diving! Do you see the splash? People cheer when they're done."
"CHEEEER!" He yells every time a diver leaves the springboard. Later, he lies on his bed and tells me he's floating in the pool.
His favorite, though, was the trampoline event. After watching a few, he starts bouncing and somersaulting all over the bed, then stands up with his arms in the air and says "Yaaay! I'm in Olympics!" I bet you will be some day.

The D Word

I've found this whole parenting thing is easier sometimes if I pick a theme for a week or so and focus on it. When Sam was born, it was nursing. Later, it was getting him on a regular nap schedule. Other projects have included regular reading time, eating something besides bread and cheese, sitting still at a restaurant (well, we sort of worked on that), sleeping through the night, and entertaining himself long enough for Mommy to check e-mail.

This week, I tackled a biggie that I've feared for a while and haven't dealt with properly for too long - what the heck to do about discipline. We've tried a few things, but nothing consistent. So, this week, I watched an episode of Super Nanny and was inspired with a few ideas about naughtly spots and timers and such.

A few days ago, I was typing at the computer when I heard a tell-tale splash. I turned around, and there was Sam looking intently at the puddle that he just made from the open water glass that I stupidly trusted him with. He's done this on several occasions, and knows it's wrong.

"Sam, we don't spill water on purpose. You have until the count of three to clean it up with this towel or we have a time-out. One, two..."

"No! No, no, no!"

"Three. OK, time for a time-out."

Howl! "No, mommy! Don't put me in time-out!"

"Sorry, kiddo, you had a chance to clean it up. Now you can try again after the time-out."

I plunk his bottom down and set the timer for two minutes. He cries, lays down, stamps his feet, but stays in the corner.

Clock beeps, out he comes.

"Ok, let's clean it up."

"Noooo!"

"I'll count to three and you need to clean it up, or back in time out. One, two, three."

"Nooo!"

And back to time-out he goes. You get the idea. This took about 3 cycles before he took the towel and made a few feeble swipes at the mess, fulfilling his obligation. Afterwards, he wanted to hug and snuggle, and we had a little chat about what happened. All of this was done in a calm voice and demeanor.

So, here's the interesting secret that I discovered this week. They say that toddlers need boundaries - that it makes them feel safe and secure. Well, guess what? Same works for parents. Instead of wasting energy being angry, reprimanding, chasing him around or ignoring it, which was my previous MO, I calmly know what do to and do it because I have a PLAN. The PLAN keeps me safe and secure, too.

The corrilary to this is that I have to be careful what I say "no" to, because I need to be willing to go through this rigamarole every time I say it. There are ways I can say no without uttering the actual word - distraction, etc. I also have to ask myself if I'm just momentarily annoyed and the behavior is really something I can live with, like him emptying out a drawer of all the pots and pans.

Not that I have the secret answer to all of this now, but life has been so much easier since I started thinking of discipline this way. It's not a burden, it doesn't have to be painful or punative. It just is a consequence for an action that I help facilitate. And it ends with hugs.

Preschool may be kaput

I asked Sam if he wanted to try preschool again today, and the answer was "Mommy stay with you?" That should have been a sign, I think.

To give some background, Sam had his first day by himself at a local drop-in preschool a few weeks ago, and I returned to pick him up after 2 hours only to hear his wailing from all the way down the hall. It turns out that he spiked a pretty big fever that day and got sick for the next few days. It probably didn't help that he didn't know any of the teachers or kids very well, and, as preschools often do, they had a schedule for the day that required a lot of transitions from him. All of that combined to make for a pretty miserable kid.

So, we took a break and tried again last week, and at the door he clung to me and wailed. I stayed for the hour to help him manage all the transitions and hopefully give him a good preschool experience to replace the old one. I thought that maybe, just maybe, today we could try again and I could maybe, just maybe, leave to get a cup of coffee and see how he did. I talked to him about it this morning, and he was skeptical.

We got ready for the day, and it was fraught with conflict. Looking back, I'm sure I was in a cruddy mood at the thought of dealing with another day at preschool, and so was he. We were downstairs trying to get out the door when it hit me - my yoga center has a mom-tot yoga class that we haven't tried in almost a year, and it started in a half hour.

"Sam, do you want to go to preschool or yoga today?"

"Yoga? Mommy leave you?"

"No honey, I'll be doing yoga, but I'll be in the same room with you. You can play with the toys."

"Go to yoga? Play with toys?"

So, there was my answer. And the rest of the morning was lovely for both of us. I got to do yoga while Sam plays with the toys and the other kids, and we both left feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

I think that if both of us were so stressed out about a possible preschool session that we got that crabby at each other, it's not worth it right now. We'll try again in another couple months.