I often work late at school and my desk is somewhat out of sight so I sometimes overhear students talking about things Not Meant for Teacher Ears. Usually this merely piques my anthropological interest. Occasionally, however, I overhear something that requires intervention. Or not. Consider a recent incident:
My grading trance is interrupted by an unknown boy saying sarcastically to another, “Your hair looks like Ethiopia!” Sigh… I’m not sure what this means, but it can’t be good — somewhere on the spectrum from ignorantly inappropriate to overtly racist. The student repeats it, louder, “Seriously, your hair looks like ETHIOPIA!” The other student makes an unintelligible, but baffled-sounding response, while I get up and head to the commons with my stern face. As I round the bend, he repeats it a third time, “Your hair really looks like Ethiopia…” I’m surprised to see a seventh grader who didn’t strike me as the type to say this sort of thing — he’s a sophisticated, culturally sensitive boy. I open my mouth, preparing to Summon him to a Conversation, when he continues, “…see, it’s kinda round here and has a thing sticking out on the right, just like we learned in geography!” I close my mouth and they walk onward, discussing the shape of Ethiopia and other nearby countries.
On a recent, chilly “spring” day, we headed to the Jackson Street Roundhouse with one of Griffin’s buddies from ECFE and his family. We knew there would be trains there, but holy cow! What a cool place! We got to explore real engines, old sleeper cars, and look at all kinds of train ephemera. A roundhouse, for those not in the know, is a circular or semi-circular structure built to service trains. This one used to service steam trains, but is no longer active and has been converted into a museum. Fortunately for us, they also give caboose rides on Saturdays, and this was probably the highlight of the trip for everyone. Having only seen “big choo-choo trains” from a distance, Griffin was in awe and had a blast.
Andrew and Griffin hang out the back of the caboose.There goes the roundhouse!A cold and rainy day, Griffin and Andrew decide to head inside.What a cool ride!
Lest one think that it’s all roses and unicorns over here, I just had to post about an epic meltdown that is in the works as I type. It’s not really Griffin’s fault: He was woken from a deep sleep by a tornado siren this afternoon (Did you know it’s Severe Weather Awareness Week?), which, admittedly, is perplexing when it happens to adults. But this meltdown has had no end in sight. First we rocked and snuggled. No comfort. Then he requested we go into Mommy’s bed. Hysteria. Then a request to read. Hyperventilating. Then a request for medicine. No dice. Then a request for water, food,…etc. I have finally just left him in his bed to hopefully fall back asleep, or at least calm down slightly. This may be one time where my immediate presence is not helpful in the least. Feeling a bit like a rookie again!
I can’t believe it’s been so long since I wrote you a letter, but I guess in all the busyness of this past year, I’ve let it slip through the cracks. We moved from California to Minnesota, Daddy has a new job, we bought a new house, and now you are two. I have been looking at pictures and videos of our last two years together and you’re already a world away from where you were as an infant…maybe even an entire solar system. I expected you to change, but I just didn’t know what it would look like. You surprise and delight me every day!
Speedy runner!
I thought you might like to know what you’ve been up to lately: You love to jump (with both feet! You just learned and are quite proud of yourself), run, and climb. Your main way of communicating is with words, saying things I sometimes understand, but more often have to decipher with context clues. One of your favorite activities is still sitting down with a book, which delights both your dad and me, and we’ve moved beyond board books to actual stories that you are often very engaged in. You want to do things by yourself, oftentimes pushing my helping hand away saying, “Griffin! Griffin!” which means “I can do it myself.” And you can. You can do an enormous amount of things yourself: drink from a cup, eat with a spoon, identify objects, shapes, and colors, entertain yourself with puzzles or trains, climb up into your booster chair, sing, climb up and down the stairs, build a tower with Legos, to name just a few. You wave at everyone and say, “Hi!” in the sweetest, friendliest voice, as if you’ve known complete strangers your whole life. You wave goodbye to everyone and everything: “Bye-bye Daddy! Bye-bye football! Bye-bye pants! Bye-bye phone!” You love taking baths. When I open up the medicine cabinet you point to the “tye-lo-lo-lo-lo-nol” (tylenol) or ask for a “car-bib” (car band aid) for your forehead. You love being tickled and chased. Our nightly bedtime routine involves you saying, “Mommy chase! Daddy chase!” and one of us will chase you up the stairs as you squeal with anticipation of being caught. Now that it’s warmer, you want to be outside ALL of the time to explore, throw rocks, dig in the sand, and look at the “tooo-lips”. You’ve even taken an interest in the “pee-pee potty” and wearing underwear, which you really like. What you like even more is taking off the underwear, running around giggling and yelling, “NAKED!!!”
You really are one happy kid. Don’t get me wrong: you have your tantrums and frustrations, but in general, you really seem to love life. Along with this passion for living comes an immensely cuddly and affectionate personality. You give kisses and hugs, many times without a request. I hope this lasts forever, but know there will probably be a time when it will be icky to get a kiss from your mom and embarrassing to be hugged by your dad. It’s hard to imagine you older, though, so I’m just enjoying where you’re at now and savoring as much as I can. We are in a good groove these days, you and I, and life is sweet.
I don’t know when you’re actually going to read this letter. Will it be when you’re 10? 13? 18? 21? This may be hard for you to believe, but you aren’t the only one who has been changing. My heart has grown by a whole solar system since you were born, too. I love you so deeply, it’s really difficult for me to even describe it. Do you know that now as you’re reading this as a “big kid?” It’s probably hard to imagine me as a person before I was your mom, but I was. I lived an entire 32 years before you were in my life and have had many people and experiences that have made my heart grow with love, including your dad, who made it (and continues to make it) grow immensely. But you have made it grow in a different way, and in a way I could not have expected. And I thank you for that.
So happy birthday, my two year old! I do not know what the future will bring, but I do know that I live each day being thankful for you and that I get to be your mom.
Historically, Griffin has been quite the helper in the kitchen. Well, maybe helper isn’t quite the right word; maker-of-messes-and-interested-in-doing-whatever-I’m-doing-in-the-kitchen…helper. He’s also a monkey and climbs on everything and anything, and while his sense of balance is really quite amazing, he’s had a few tumbles in the kitchen off of chairs and step stools that have made me think that this nifty invention called a Learning Tower is just what we need. Basically, it’s a sturdy platform with railings on all sides that enables Griffin to get to counter height to watch and help without me worrying, in addition to making sure he doesn’t touch the hot stove, sharp knives, glasses, coffee maker, toaster, etc., that he’ll fall off a wobbly step stool or chair. We have the room for one in our kitchen now and I’ve been coveting one ever since I found out that they exist. Only thing is, they cost over $200.
Enter Grandpa Jeff.
My dad’s a handy guy. I have lots of memories of making things with him, and while I wasn’t totally into the graph paper and Pythagorean theorem, I did enjoy making things and felt a lot of satisfaction out of the many projects we’ve done together. I mentioned the Learning Tower to him on a recent visit, and he thought he could tackle the project sometime this summer. A quick “DIY Learning Tower” Google search turned up a surprising number of plans, many of which seemed even better than the original. I was psyched to know we’d soon have one for Griffin to climb on!
Well, Grandpa Jeff came by our house today on his way Up North and had a surprise for us in the back of his car: a handmade learning tower! He said he just couldn’t wait until summer to make it and knew that Griffin would put it to good use immediately. Griffin knew exactly what to do with it and climbed up to do a little dance on the platform. We are both so excited to use it and I am grateful to have such a handy (and thoughtful) dad, Pythagorean theorem and all.
Griffin watches "Grm-pa" use the drill to attach the last of the legs.
We’re in the dregs of winter these days—below freezing most nights, relatively warm most days with rain more frequent than snow. Additional snow, which we expect, has lost its ability to intimidate (unless you live in a flood zone). Our formerly unassailable snowpack is melting daily, revealing bedraggled lawns, silty sidewalks and forgotten snowman accessories. It’s messy, wet, and muddy. The remaining snow (of which there is still a good bit) is crusty and dingy gray.
As much as I am looking forward to the beauty and warmth of spring and summer, I will truly miss winter. It feels like sacrilege to say this around here (where everybody is completely sick of it), but I loved the snowy coldness of it all. My pre-dawn walk to work in the bitter cold has been one of my most treasured times of day. For one thing, it is stunningly beautiful outside. It is dark, but the snow reflects so much light that it never feels gloomy. After a fresh snowfall, everything is white, even the middle of the street. All the urban grime is replaced with glittering silver. As I trudge through the sidewalk canyons, flanked by thigh- or shoulder-high snowbanks, my inner geek goes wild: I’m listening for Mr. Tumnus in Narnia or avoiding storm troopers on Hoth. (Little do my students know that “Mr. Roy” regularly takes out imperial AT-ATs with his lightsaber before school.) If I’m lucky enough to catch the moon still up, I get the visual treat of moonlight through ice-limned branches—the light refracts in such a way to make the straight branches look like they bend to encircle the moon.
On these walks I am often surprised by how life-affirming this dead time of year is. No matter how dark and cold it is, there are always rabbit prints in the snow ahead of mine, and often the rabbits themselves. What do they eat? I have no idea. Then, as the eastern stars fade away, the birds start emerging. That just boggles my mind—how is it possible that the tiny, delicate things don’t freeze solid overnight? But they’re out, chirping happily and heading to their favorite birdfeeders. Cool.
Then there’s the cars-as-ballerinas effect. To understand this you need to understand that I don’t like cars. I think they are great tools, and I can appreciate (I suppose) a particularly well-designed automobile, but for the most part I hate them. They are dirty, noisy, and usually in my way. This is true whether I’m in a car or on foot, but as a pedestrian they are especially annoying because they are so much more dangerous and so much less respectful.
Winter helps with this on a number of levels. First of all, drivers are all freaked out. The roads are terrible. It’s tough getting out of your driveway, not to mention managing to stop at a light or start again afterwards. Everybody is sliding every which way and their confidence is shot. (Forgive me for getting a bit of amusement out of this.) Add to that the fact that the snow and my layers of scarves and hats also dampens sound. Put together the combination of slow driving, relative silence, lights reflecting off the snow, and the oddly graceful slip-sliding of tires and you have a transformation of the banal reality of winter traffic into an ethereal ballet. I kid you not: I have been stopped in my tracks by the silent beauty of oncoming headlights through the snow. (That is until I have to cross a street, when beautiful or not, they revert back into me-hunting demons.)
Finally, on some days it is just about sheer survival. On the very coldest mornings, when windchills have dropped into the negative 20s or worse, I’m not thinking about lightsabers or birds or ballet, I’m just focused on making sure my eyes don’t freeze shut and watching where I put my feet so I can get to school as quickly as possible. Arrival, under these circumstances, feels like a victory. And that’s not a bad way to start a school day.
Griffin loves going through the cabinet of board games in the basement. He dumps out the cards, plays with the dice, buzzes the buzzers, and wreaks havoc on the box corners. While he was doing this today, he started playing with a die from some game that had colors on each face. My gamer instincts kicked in and I thought, “We could actually PLAY a real game together… something with colors… he knows colors, and he kinda gets rolling the die.” So I came up with a few possibilities involving various collections of colored objects that matched the colors on the die. I wasn’t sure exactly what we would do, but something like “roll the die, then put the green thing into the box.” Not super sophisticated, but it would be a real game — with rolling dice. Yay! (Of course we already play lots of great games together — making faces, hide-and-seek, knocking towers of blocks down, etc. — but they are a different sort of game than the type with dice and moves.)
Griffin was thrilled that I was getting into it with him, but I think the logic of die-rolling or multiple steps of play still evades him. After a while, I could see the look on his face, “Daddy, why are you messing up my game???” So I let him get back to stomping on the boxes and folding up all the cranium cards. But soon, soon, he’ll be ready for the next step!
Griffin has been taking much delight in all things that zoom lately. If there’s a plane in the sky, he’ll find it. If there’s a school bus coming down the road, you can bet he’ll point it out. I decided it was high time we took a day devoted to transportation.
Let me just begin by saying that I have so much respect for folks who, either by choice or not, get their little ones around using public transportation. A car affords a freedom that I’ve been taking for granted, especially in the winter, and I realized this morning as we were rushing to catch the 9:14 bus that life would be a lot more complicated if we didn’t have our own wheels. That being said, I also really enjoyed taking public transportation with Griffin today. I got to engage with him about what we were seeing out the window in a way that I simply can’t in the car, and more importantly, we got to look at each other and interact with other people, which just doesn’t happen in the insulation of our own car.
Anyway, we received two free Metro Transit passes when we moved to St. Paul (sign up for a land line and, in addition to getting lots of unwanted phone calls for people who used to have your number, you get all kinds of free things in the mail!), and with his sudden interest in zooming vehicles, it seemed like the perfect excuse for a field trip. Fortunately, we live just a block from major bus routes, so arranging to get to the airport was as easy as a web search and walking two blocks to the bus stop.
As the bus pulled up, Griffin waved and said, “Hi, Bus!” We got on and he was beaming with excitement. We rode through our neighborhood, down across the frozen Mississippi, and arrived at the Light Rail station. A small wait afforded us the opportunity to explore every nook and cranny of the station, and then the train pulled up! We got to ride through tunnels, past lots of different colored houses and stands of trees, and finally arrived at the airport, where we disembarked. It took a little creativity to find a place where we could watch the planes (post-9/11 has made it very difficult to find a place to watch, I found out), but a couple of trams and moving sidewalks lead us to the perfect place to have a snack and watch planes take off. It was perfect.
We had a great morning together (and it was free!). Griffin got to explore his new passion, and I realized that maybe we need to be taking the bus more often, not just because it’s better for the environment, but because it might just be better for me and Griffin, too.
We haven’t had a “first” blog entry in a while, so Griffin decided it was high time. Today as we were readying ourselves to visit the Science Museum with some new ECFE friends, Griffin’s forehead met the sticking out corner near our front door and got himself a nasty gash. It’s truly a wonder that this hasn’t happened yet as he has had plenty of head bonks, but this was the first gusher. I must say, it freaked me out a little and I was struck with mild panic as I realized that one, I was alone, two, Griffin’s car seat was actually out of the car in anticipation of carpooling to the museum, and three, my kid was howling with pain and fear, there was blood everywhere, and there was little I could do about it.
Thankfully, shortly after this happened, our friends were nearly at our house, so they came in and I was able to confirm with another adult that yes, I should take him to the clinic but it’s not an emergency, and my friend was able to watch Griffin (who had settled down by then) while I reinstalled the car seat. Whew.
His wound was definitely deep and big enough for some skin glue (which he did not enjoy in the least, but frankly, they would have had to sedate him to get any stitches in there!) and he already seems to have forgotten about it. His biggest concern after it all was getting some “fooot nack” (fruit snacks) and cheese. Onward we go!
His first major wound all glued up!
Griffin didn't want the bandaid on his head and instead insisted that it go on my forehead. Sympathy bandaids are just my style.
After a week of sub-zero temperatures, we enjoyed a weekend of balmy weather — highs in the 30s on Saturday, and in the high 40s today! Real spring is still a long way off, but today was our first hint of what’s to come. It was a perfect afternoon for snowballs and puddle stomping.
