and the truth comes out

Earlier this week I attended a Meet and Greet at Garrett's school where I was introduced to his teachers, speech therapist, and a handful of administrators. At the beginning everything seemed to be going just fine, on the surface at least. As I entered the building, I ran into the principal, a really nice lady who already recognizes me as "that adorable Garrett's mom." Outside Garrett's classroom I met the mother of one of the girls in his class. She correctly guessed what child I belonged to by looking at Caleb, and proceeded to tell me how her daughter is always talking about this boy in her class named Garrett. Then it was to the gym where the actual meeting took place. As I sat waiting for things to get started, I caught, in between smiles and welcomes, whispers of "that's Garrett's mom." I should have suspected something then, but, optimist that I am, I didn't think much of it.

The meeting started. Everyone introduced themselves and school policies and classroom procedures were reviewed. I then met one on one with his speech therapist, who told me that Garrett was doing great. "He's not throwing tantrums?" I asked, remembering some of the fits he had with Lina over the summer. "Oh no," she told me. "He works really well, and I think he'll make a lot of progress this year." Well, okay, I thought. Wonderful. I thanked her and went to speak with one of his classroom teachers.

"How is Garrett doing," I asked her. And then the truth came out, horrifically spilled all over the floor as she listed all of the problems Garrett was having at school. Apparently he cries several times a day and throws tantrums. He has a hard time sitting still and following directions. A lot of these problems have to do with the fact that he is the youngest in the class, and by a long shot, too -- he is barely 3 and the majority of the other children are 5, which is a huge gap, and something I was originally told would not be the case. His language delays are not helping matters either. Because he is in an integrated Pre-K program, his teachers, who are both special-ed certified, are required to teach from a science-based curriculum mandated by the state, which is proving difficult to adapt to someone of Garrett's age and ability. She told me repeatedly that she thought he was in the wrong class, that he'd do better in an all-day program in a class with fewer children and no state-mandated curriculum requirements. She also informed me that his IEP goals were totally inappropriate and definitely needed modifying. In all of this she had very few positive things to say about Garrett, except that she's surprised at how well he uses the potty at school.

I wanted to do a thousand things as I stood there listening to her, first and foremost being to just run far, far away. Instead I cried. I was upset with Garrett for behaving this way, and I was upset with his teacher for telling me all of this so harshly. I knew going into this experience that, based on what I know of his personality, Garrett would have a rough adjustment period to school. But that didn't make any of this less difficult to hear, especially after hearing so many good things, from Garrett, his other teacher by way of his class journal, and his therapist. His teacher apologized and tried to make me feel better. She told me that the situation was difficult but not impossible, that she had ideas formulating for how to help Garrett and was planning to work with his other teachers, the speech therapist, and me to work through these issues. But even so I still left the school feeling incredibly frustrated, confused, and embarrassed -- both for my son and for my tears.

At home I began the process of sorting all of this new information out. I called Blake and I called my mom, and after each conversation felt a little better. I drafted a letter to his teacher, which I sent to school with Garrett the next day, asking her to keep me informed so we could help resolve these issues at home. I told her I wanted to be involved in the process of helping Garrett acclimate, and reminded her that despite it all, Garrett did still love school.

I was a little embarrassed, knowing what I now know, to put Garrett on the school bus the next day, but by his happy return home, I realized that I didn't need to be. Even though there's work and teaching to be done, I know that with time things should improve, that a lot of these problems will solve themselves as Garrett gets older. As of right now I plan to keep Garrett where he is (I don't want him in an all-day class; he is only 3 after all), and I'm eager to be involved with his teachers as we work together to solve these problems. In the meantime I guess it's just another "welcome to motherhood," as my mom told me. This day was coming eventually, and I guess it was just as well that it happened sooner rather than later.

the little red lighthouse and the great gray bridge

Two and a half years ago we tried to visit the Little Red Lighthouse under the great, gray George Washington Bridge. Instead we got hopelessly lost looking for the footbridge that would take us over the freeway and down to the lighthouse. I have been determined ever since to try again. But the combination of the fact that the lighthouse is only open for tours a few times a year and requires a long, long train ride up to 181st Street in Manhattan made that somewhat difficult. But yesterday we did it. And I don't know what our problem was last time because finding that footbridge turned out to be a cinch.

The Urban Park Rangers opened the lighthouse, which is indeed very little and very red, yesterday as a part of the annual Little Red Lighthouse Festival. When it was our turn to go inside, Caleb decided to throw a fit. But we hauled him up the tiny, circular staircase and steep, narrow ladder up to the light anyway. He wasn't thrilled, but we were only up there for a short time and he eventually got over it.


Garrett, on the other hand, had a great time. Ever since I told him a few days ago about our planned outing, he'd been telling me how excited he was to go see what he calls the "onhouse" (because, you know, lights turn on, so it makes complete sense). It was a long hike over steep terrain to get from the subway station down to the banks of the Hudson River where the lighthouse stands, but Garrett was a trooper. Getting to go up inside the lighthouse made the trek worth it. (So did getting to play in the gravel at the base of the lighthouse, but both of my boys are easily amused by rocks, sticks, and leaves, so that wasn't too surprising.) He handled the difficult steps to the light with nimble agility, and enjoyed the striking view from the top (especially the view of kids throwing rocks and sticks into the river -- he really wanted to hurry back down so he could do that, too).


Our friends, Cliff and Isaac, joined us on our excursion and it was great to have the company. The boys shared food and toys during a small picnic lunch on the grass while we waited for our scheduled turn to go in the lighthouse.


As fun as it was, I think I might have overdone it yesterday because the minor head cold I was dealing with had by bedtime exploded into full blown misery. It was for this reason that I stayed home from church today. But rest in the restorative sense hasn't much happened because, circumstances being what they are, the boys had to stay home, too. Oh well. I guess maybe, in between the sneezing and the nose-blowing, we should go pull out our copy of The Little Red Lighthouse and the Great Gray Bridge and read it together. After yesterday's adventure, I think Garrett at least would enjoy it.

brotherhood

Sometimes, like yesterday when Garrett wanted Caleb to come play with him on the playground and so led him gently by the hand around the park, all while Caleb patiently let him, I get pleasant glimpses of the more loving parts of brotherhood -- the parts that don't involve fighting, screaming, and button-pushing. I love being privy to these small but tender interactions. They remind me that deep down, somewhere, they really do love each other, and I think I need that as much as they do.

that hair

Not a day goes by without the boys getting some sort of remark from someone, friend or stranger, about their hair. Both of them, but especially Garrett, get comments about the color -- how blindingly blond it is! Out west, hair this color is not unusual, but here, amid a sea of people of Middle Eastern, Asian, and Hispanic decent, blond hair is an anomaly. One old lady even declared to me recently that it was high time there was more hair this color in the neighborhood. While her comment was totally inappropriate and racially hurtful, it might give you an idea of how uncommon this shade of coloring is here.


And then there's Caleb's hair, which is, in a word, awesome. In two words -- outrageously awesome. No matter my efforts, his wild hair cannot be tamed. Contrary to what I once predicted, over time Caleb's hair has become more and more blond. But while Garrett will be a towhead for the rest of his life, I still hold to my conviction that Caleb's will likely get darker as he gets older. In fact, his will probably turn a little darker over the winter. But for now, there's no getting around the fact that he's blond, too.


While I love Caleb's hair kept a little longer, I know it's time to cut it when it becomes heavy and long enough to actually fall flat and into his eyes. Garrett's was getting a little straggly, too, so yesterday I took them both in for haircuts. Garrett, as he always does after a haircut, looks sharp and much older. Caleb won't hold still for anything, let alone a pair of scissors, so his trim turned out a little lopsided. I did my best to fix it later, but, again, he won't hold still for anything.


I have my mother to thank for my blond hair, and my boys have me to thank for theirs. So, at least for now, I have two blondies. I'm a little surprised, given Blake's dark brown hair, that I had enough pull in the gene pool to give them both my coloring, but I'll take it. Having them around does a good job of keeping people from wondering if my hair is naturally blond as well. But Blake didn't totally escape contribution --Caleb's wild lion 'do definitely came from him. And, really, given how outrageously awesome that hair of his is, I'm glad it did.

things that are cute

Ratatouille. Garrett's current go-to Pixar film is Ratatouille, which he generally (and adorably) pronounces as "Ratatutu." For the last few days, as we've waited on the stoop for the school bus, he's been obsessively grabbing handfuls of leaves from the ground cover at the base of the tree on the curb and tossing them through the garden fence. In between telling him to stop picking the leaves! I tried to find out just exactly why he was doing this. Finally the answer was intelligible: he was picking herbs to throw into the pot just like the rat did when he made soup. He was pretending to be Remy. So now instead of trying to inhibit his budding imagination, I'm trying to steer him towards using the already fallen leaves when he's cooking.



Waving. Caleb finally waves hello and goodbye, though he's still not that great at doing it on command. He is, however, really good at waving to people we pass on walks through the neighborhood, as well as waving to his own shadow.



Emergency Vehicles. Big vans are the thing to drive in New York. They are used in lieu of pick-up trucks for construction companies, as delivery, service, and utility vehicles, and as ambulettes, among other things. Even though they are not usually used for emergencies, the ambulettes are often equipped with lights and sirens. Garrett knows that ambulances also have sirens, and, according to his logic, this means that all vehicles with lights and sirens of comparable size are ambulances (i.e. the ambulettes; he knows a fire engine and a police car when he sees one), which in turns means that all big vans are emergency vehicles, whether or not they are equipped with extra lights on top. So whenever we pass a large van, he pulls on my arm and says, "Hey! Eee-ooo-eee-ooo" (he can't say ambulance yet). I'm discovering that even though he's pointing at a construction van, it's really hard to convince otherwise.

things that bug

Please pardon me while I keep things real around here and whine for just a minute.

Shrieking. Oh, how my boys, with their shrill high-pitched screeches and wails, can give me a headache. If one gets started, the other one joins right in. Take the argument over crayons that happened the other day: Caleb found Garrett's box of crayons and started chewing on the ones he wasn't throwing around the room. When Garrett walked in and witnessed the havoc his brother was wreaking on his obsessive-compulsively developed sense of order, he let out one of his infamous ear-piercing shrieks as he pushed Caleb over in an attempt to rectify the situation. Caleb, of course, was not amused, so he started screaming, too. Back and forth it went until they took notice of me trying to intervene. I know this is normal behavior; I just wish the frequency wasn't quite so high and that the impulse to screech was a last resort rather than a first choice in whatever the situation might be. (For an example of the shrieking, listen to Caleb in this video.)

Picky Picky. At every meal, and particularly dinners, our kitchen table becomes a battle ground, with Blake and I on one side and Garrett on the other. I know that the problem of picky eaters is not uncommon, but that doesn't keep it from driving me crazy. It usually doesn't matter what foods I prepare, or whether he has a history of liking them in the past, we still end up with our swords drawn trying to persuade him to just eat already. We each have our own tactics to further our cause. Blake and I eat by example (and I, for one, do not play the part of short-order cook), set timers to speed things up, spoon feed him (even using our best airplane, helicopter, car, train, and boat noises as necessary), and bribe him with dessert. Garrett opts to gag and throw up, chew but not swallow (stuffing his cheeks like a chipmunk in the process), or eat so slowly that it will be time to clean up before he even has a chance to get started. I know he's hungry -- he whines for snacks all day long, but I don't always give in to his requests, especially if it's close to mealtime.

Why doesn't he eat? And when will he grow out of it?

Caleb is not nearly so bad, though I know he's young yet and things could change. However, we, as now slightly more experienced parents, are doing things slightly differently with him in the hopes that we can thwart off another miserable case of major pickiness.

In the Can. Caleb is at the stage where he loves to take things, one by one, out of their containers, and then put them back in. This is an occupation that doesn't normally bother me except for the fact that Caleb's favorite container to put toys back in is the kitchen trash can. It's getting pretty disgusting to fish through the garbage for parts of toys that don't belong in there.

Sundays. I know I'm not the only wife and mother who solos it on Sundays while her husband fulfills Priesthood responsibilities, and I know I'm far from alone in finding this task particularly challenging some weeks. But unfortunately this knowledge doesn't make me any less frazzled and exhausted or the end-of-Sabbath headache any less severe. Yesterday, as I sat during Sacrament Meeting trying to deal with boys who were making a pretty good show of screaming (see above), toy and fit throwing, and not sharing with the other equally high-strung children on the pew, I found myself mouthing "Help me!" to Blake as he sat on the stand and I tried to hold back tears -- two things that were pretty useless given the circumstances. And then there's the feat of lugging them -- whining nearly the entire way -- to and from church on the bus. Sometimes things get better once we're home; sometimes, like yesterday, they just escalate. And sometimes I just find myself missing having my family happy, relaxed, and all together for more than ten uninterrupted minutes on a Sunday evening.

There. I'm done now. And I feel a little better.

week one

As I expected would happen, our daily routines have been thrown slightly off kilter because of Garrett's preschool schedule. Everyone around here is eating, napping, and whining at weird times. What I did not expect, however, was just how exhausting it would be for me. I've hardly been able to keep my head on straight these last few days, and it's wearing me out. I guess I need to adjust to the new schedule as much as my children do.

As for school itself, Garrett LOVES it. And he might love riding the school bus even more. Because he loves that bus so much, my qualms about putting him on it have been reduced considerably. Though he occasionally still falls asleep on the bus ride home, he hasn't been as cranky as a result like he was the first day, and as we walk back inside after he's dropped off, he is so excited to tell me all about how great his day has been. He loves telling me about school, the bus, and his teachers. I gather from our conversations that his teachers are very nice, he has played with toys, he loves snack time, and he's a big, big fan of the potty he gets to use at school. He seriously could not be happier.

Part of me wishes that I could be a fly on the wall of his classroom and watch what he does and see how he interacts. (But then I remember certain aspects of his personality and figure it's probably for the best that I stay relatively clueless.) In the next few weeks I'll get to meet his teachers, along with the other adults who will be working with him (such as the speech therapist and the psychologist assigned to his classroom), at various Parent Orientation meetings. At them I'll also become more acquainted with his school routine, which I'm sure will help us all with this school experience.

Caleb and I have made the most of our three hours together in the middle of every day. We've baked, gone on errands, played, and lounged around the house. I think one his favorite parts of this new daily routine is spending time out on the stoop twice every day waiting for Garrett's bus to either pick him up or drop him off. Very little makes him happier than spending time outside on the sidewalk picking up fallen leaves. My one-on-one time with Caleb is really very pleasant, but we're both happy to see Garrett when school is over.


I think it's great how seriously Garrett takes all this school business. He'll get things in gear and obey me the first time if I tell him school is on the line. I imagine that won't last forever, but I'll sure take it while we've got it. I also am surprised by how grown up only one week of preschool has made him. The things we talk about now are on a whole new level, and while I wouldn't rush to say he's suddenly more mature, we are definitely heading in that direction.

***

I gather from the calls and notes I've received this morning that the freak storm, which swept through New York City yesterday evening, made national news. I just wanted to let you all know that we are fine, and thank you for your concern. For the most part our neighborhood was spared. While a lot of people are dealing with downed trees (on top of their homes and cars, no less) and lost roofs, the most damage control we personally had to deal with was the rainwater that blew through our open windows. But this storm was certainly not something you could label as wimpy. Click the links for some impressive video and photographic coverage.

got your nose

I love how Garrett catches on to the make-believe aspect of the game so quickly. It gives me hope that he won't grow up to be a Homer Simpson, who once brought up the fact that his uncle still had his nose.

the first day of school

Well I did it. Today I put Garrett on the school bus for his first day of preschool. And I didn't even cry (uncontrollably, that is). He's been looking forward to this day for a while now, and it finally came. Originally I had wanted to walk him to the school myself for his first day, but the thing he'd been looking forward to the most was getting to ride a school bus -- for the last week, he's been pointing out every one we see, saying, "Cool bus! Mine!" So this morning, after an early lunch (he's in an afternoon class), we went out to the stoop to wait for the bus.


And then it came, a pint-sized yellow bus made just for pint-sized people. I had prepped him beforehand so he'd know that I would not be getting on the bus with him, and he seemed perfectly fine with that. But for a split second, as the aide was helping him board, he looked back at me a little panicked. Even though my own heart was beating anxiously, as if this was my own first day of school (which I suppose in a way it was), I reassured him that he'd have fun, and he smiled and walked back to his seat. The aide thoughtfully placed him on the right side so I could wave goodbye. (The windows are tinted, but he's sitting next to the second window.)


And then he was gone (so I allowed myself to cry a little more). Caleb and I went back inside to enjoy some alone time together. We played with his toys, both of us loving the fact that Garrett wasn't around to snatch them out of his hands or accidentally push him over in the process. We went to the grocery store where I was reminded at how much faster I can run errands when I only have one kid with me. And then we headed back home to make chocolate chip cookies for Garrett to eat when he got home -- because that seemed like the right thing to do. It was a very quiet 2 1/2 hours.

When the bus pulled up to drop Garrett off back at home this afternoon, he jumped into my arms, exhausted and disoriented. I suspect he fell asleep on the ride home, and adjusting back to wakefulness took a little time, some tears, and a fair amount of irrational screaming. A chocolate chip cookie worked its intended magic, though, and soon he had recovered enough to tell me all about how great his day was. I only caught words here and there (the gist of it sounded roughly like "Hey! I went to school! I have a teacher! She's nice!"), and I'm under the impression that he enjoyed himself enough to do it all again tomorrow. (And eventually, I hope, he'll adjust to being in a classroom at the same time he's normally accustomed to napping in his bed.)

I know he's only three, but this day came a lot quicker than I thought it would. My first-born has checked off "first day of school" from his bucket list! (And so have I!) From now until our last child graduates from high school, and perhaps even beyond, our lives will revolve around the school year schedule. As much as I know that this preschool experience will be beneficial for all of us, it's still a little hard to let go. For 2 1/2 hours every day, Garrett's life will not be part of mine. That (along with the potential loss of the afternoon nap) will take some adjusting. But I think we'll do just fine.

garrett's first talk

I don't know what it is about the podium in the Primary room that draws children to it like magnets. Perhaps it's the microphone (it doesn't even seem to matter if the sound system is turned on, though it's definitely more fun if it is). Or maybe it's the folding steps that allow them to get high enough to speak into it. Whatever it is, they love it, and Garrett is no exception. Yesterday, while our family was at the church cleaning, Garrett took advantage of the fact that no other children were fighting for a turn at the podium. He stood up and began to speak to whoever would listen. At one point I stopped my vacuuming to teach him that this microphone was for talking about Jesus.

"Okay!" he said, his eyes lighting up. And then he began to talk about Jesus. (And while he did, Caleb tried "vacuuming" from a different angle.)




So Garrett, inability to speak very intelligibly notwithstanding, gave his first Primary talk yesterday -- and he hasn't even graduated from the nursery yet. (How's that for top of his class, eh?)

remembering from our rooftop

This evening we put the boys to bed, watched Clijsters win the U.S. Open (go Clijsters!), and then went out onto the roof of our building for the very first time (I know -- it only took us three years to finally go explore up there). Turns out we have a pretty decent view of Lower Manhattan.

in season

We've eaten some pretty tasty and largely in-season things around here lately, and I thought I'd dish on the deliciousness. My favorites have included:

• Roasted Caprese Pasta. Easy to make, and healthy to boot. I guarantee that eating this will make you want to kiss your fingertips like an Italian. (Note: I had some on hand, so I also added chopped up fresh chives; I would do that again in a heartbeat.)
  
• Baked Penne with Sausage, Spinach and Red Bell Peppers. A little labor intensive, but the creamy, flavorful divinity it turns into makes this worth every extra minute it took me to prepare. Seriously. Heaven in a casserole dish.
  
• Zucchini-Chocolate Chip Muffins. This old favorite was our Labor Day breakfast. We devoured the entire pan.
• Chocolate Zucchini Cakes. These are incredible. I've made them twice in the last week, and those that we aren't devouring ourselves are getting handed out to friends so that they, too, can partake of the goodness. I tell you, nothing goes better together than zucchini and chocolate.

meeting the triplets

Last night I got to visit Emily and the triplets. And oh my sweet, sweet goodness -- those babies are adorable! I held each one of them, and I'd tell you how awesome that was, but they are too precious for words.

From the left: Lucy, Eddie, and Charlie, with their brave mama, Emily

First came Charles Adam, weighing in at 5 lbs 13 oz. Second was Edward Thomas at 5 lbs 15 oz. And last came Lucy Margaret at 5 lbs 10 oz. Nearly 18 lbs of baby and sure proof that Emily was miraculously able to carry them to 36 weeks. Eddie, the only one of them sent to the NICU, has since graduated to the regular newborn nursery. All three of them will be coming home soon with their mother.

Congratulations, Emily and Adam, and good job! Those three little miracles of yours are absolutely perfect.

three

My best friend, Emily, gave birth to triplets today. Her daughter, Elizabeth, spent the day with us, unaware, so far as I could tell, that monumental changes were occurring in her family structure while she played with my boys.

I did my best to keep all three of them busy today, and I think I succeeded. We played with toys, read some stories, made (and ate) Rice Krispie treats, and walked down to the library to attend the end of summer Story Time party.

That was an adventure -- complete (albeit organized) chaos, but fun just the same. Jill and Daphne also joined us. We started in the toddler room up in the children's department where we sang some songs and read a story. Then we all gathered out in the teeny tiny parking lot for outside games. A half dozen stations were set up with various toddler appropriate activities -- bubbles, puzzles, lawn bowling, bean bag toss, and finger painting. Their favorite were the tubs of water where they all got really wet.


They even had snacks of Goldfish crackers and juice boxes for all the kids. It was Caleb's first experience drinking from a juice box, and I was surprised at how quickly he figured out the mechanics of the straw. He downed his apple juice in seconds -- and then went straight for Garrett and Elizabeth's empty boxes. By the time I caught him, he was looking a little punch drunk, taking turns sucking the last remains from each discarded container.


In the early afternoon I was somehow able to get all three of them to nap. Not at the same time, and only for about 20 minutes each, but it was more than expected to get. I'm sure all three of them will sleep really well tonight, though.

I talked with Emily this afternoon. The babies are here, they are huge (all three of them were just a few ounces shy of 6 lbs each!), and, most importantly, they are healthy. Miraculously, only one of them was taken to the NICU, and from what I understand, he is not expected to stay there long. The other two went straight to the regular newborn nursery. Emily sounded happy when I spoke with her, and is doing as well as can be expected considering what she's been through. At this writing, names are still in the works, so in the meantime they are babies A, B (both boys), and C (girl). But no matter what they are called, I'm excited to meet them soon!

the last heatwave of the summer

Or we sincerely hope it's the last heatwave anyway. Because these high temperatures and the sweltering humidity that accompanies them are quite literally a real drag. Yesterday we only had the energy to venture out as far as the front stoop to blow bubbles. Well, I suppose it would be more correct to say that only my energy was lacking. Caleb, now a full-fledged creature of two legs, was running around everywhere while Garrett blew bubbles like it was going out of style.


Today, despite a forecast of even higher temperatures and more oppressive humidity, we found ourselves at the Prospect Park Zoo with our new friends, Jill and Daphne. It was a lot of fun, and I think the good company helped me take my mind off the heat. Ever since our recent Bronx Zoo visit, Garrett has been asking if we could go to "another zoo." I told him that if he would keep his pants dry at night I would be happy to take him to another zoo. He complied, and so we went.

This zoo trip was remarkably similar to the last, only, thankfully, on a much smaller scale. We saw more monkeys, fish, turtles, lizards, and of course, more sea lions.



We also fed more sheep and goats.



Garrett still loves feeding the animals.




And Caleb still gets a little freaked out when they get too close.




We're supposed to have one more sultry day before Hurricane Earl is projected to sweep up this side of the East Coast. While I certainly won't wish for this storm to be as extreme as the weather that will have preceded it, I do hope that it brings some cooling rain and nice sea breezes.