Christmas redux

I wondered last year at this time if making Christmas simpler would be easier or harder. And now that I am my second year, a veteran if you will, easier it is.

I was reminded of an article I received in ECFE when Aidan was about 2 that says a child should receive something to hug and love, something active, a toy or game, something creative and something to read. These guidelines have been a lifesaver for us when it comes to deciding what to give. It is all written right there!

Here's the article:

Star Tribune 12/24/89 - Pat Gardner "Tender Years"

The weeks of hectic preparation are coming to a close. Within days, the magic will begin to unfold for our children and, vicariously through them, for us. Just as we remember those wonderful Christmas Eves and mornings long ago, our children will one day look back on these days. How will they remember them? What are you giving your children this year?

I know one family of modest means that makes a great effort to celebrate Christmas in the best way possible. Their children always find five gifts under the tree. And more than that, the gifts are always accompanied by a parent. Here's how they do it.

The children always receive a gift to hug and love. Sometimes it's a doll or maybe a stuffed animal. Every Christmas each child has something to care for, to carry along and finally at night to share a bed, secrets and dreams.

The wise parents know that the children will themselves learn to care for others by practicing on dolls and stuffed animals. Mom and Dad demonstrate rocking the stuffed bear and wiping the doll's face. They talk about being gentle and giving care.

More important, they treat their children tenderly. They make a special effort at this busy time of year for a little more lap time, more frequent hugs and all the physical care and attention their young children need.

The children in this family always receive something to read. The parents know that to give them books is to give them wings. The little ones get books, and the big ones get books. Books aren't foreign to any member of this family. Books are treasures. And more than that, they become a daily connection between parent and child.

The wise parents know that the best way to raise a reader is to read to a child….They share curiosity. They take the time to listen patiently to their beginning reader. They share discoveries. Through books, these parents explore worlds within their home and beyond their front door with all of their children.

The children receive toys and games. These parents are concerned about each child's skills and find fun ways to enhance their present capabilities and encourage further development. For a grasping baby, a crib gym; for a beginning walker, a push toy; for a pre-schooler, a shape and color sorter; for a beginning reader, a game of sequence and strategy.

The parents know that play is the work of childhood. They understand that to meet a child at her level of accomplishment is to encourage success in play. Success stimulates motivation and interest in a challenge. So the parents judge their toy and game choices carefully. Not too easy, but not too hard.

They they do the most important thing. They play with their children. The children see that learning is a toy, that it's fun to challenge oneself, that play can be a very social activity, that it's OK to win and also to lose and that Mom and Dad wholeheartedly approve of play.

The children in this family always receive a gift of activity. From a simple ball or jump rope to a basketball hoop or a pair of ice skates, they always have one gift that encourages action.

The parents know that those children who, by nature, are very active may need to be channeled into acceptable and appropriate activities. And they know that those children who, by nature, are very passive may need to be encouraged to move with purpose. But their message to their children is that physical activity is important and good.

These parents make their message clear by joining their children in physical play. They skate and play catch. They're on the floor with their crawlers and walk hand in hand with their toddlers. They get bumped and bruised and laugh and shout. They sled and they bowl. And many times in the next few weeks when resting on the couch sounds much more inviting, these parents will give their kids one more gift. They'll get up and play with them.

The children always receive a gift of artistic expression. They might find crayons, paints or markers in their stockings. It might be a gift of clay this year or rubber stamps or scissors and glue. The materials change, but the object remains the same: create with joy.

These wise parents aren't terribly concerned about the mess of finger paints. They're more concerned about the exposure to unique sensations. They want their children to use their imaginations. They want their children to approach life in a hands-on fashion. And they want them to express themselves through their artistic activities in ways that exceed their vocabularies.

Limits have not only transformed my children, they have elevated my life to one worth living. Excess is my early years always lead to bad consequences. Now, if I can apply these principles to food, especially sweets, I will be scot free!

On our world: When you are buying new plastic this Christmas, please think twice. And if you do nothing else, stop buying bottled water for goodness sake. For one reason: the mark-up on this is 5000%!

Looking forward to lots of jammy time and no "should"s!

Whew

That was a busy couple of months. I am coming up for air and realizing some of my favorite things were left behind.

Aidan is full swing into his second year of preschool. Oh, how I miss the days of tearful goodbyes, tugging at my leg and leaving worries. Oh wait, no I don't. I don't miss it one bit. He is enjoying it for the most part--no reports otherwise as of yet.

Cole is catching up and doing well. He is starting to stoop for things and standing up in the middle of the room--I don't know who is more shocked--him or me. He just looks around, as if to say, who moved the furniture away?

BFF, OT, PT and other acronyms

I really like our pediatrician. I think sometimes that we could be friends. Honestly! She is about my age, a little older, and so funny, smart and down-to-earth. We get along so well that sometimes it is uncomfortable. She also has young children and seems like a great mom. She's the mom that doesn't take one thing too seriously. Not herself, not her life, not her daughter's wondering how babies are made. Of course, being a pediatrician solves that, does it not? Pretty much down to a science.

We have been seeing a lot of each other lately. Cole is the reason. Yesterday we were there for all of 10 minutes. It was eventful ten, however, and it involved me putting my whole body over Cole while a nurse who looked nice enough drew a vial of blood the size of a roll of Necco Wafers out of his little tiny arm. He wasn't in pain, though, he was pissed. While Aidan looked on and "ohh"-ed nervously, Cole screamed his little pants off. And then, when we were done, he batted the nurse. And then me. I don't blame him.

We have been referred to Gillette Children's Specialty Clinics for Cole's, ahem, problem. I really don't want to make too big a deal of it, and writing helps me sort it out. This is a specialty of specialist clinics--la creme de la creme of PTs, OTs and the like. It takes up the entire fourth floor of Regions Hospital in St Paul. Send us good wishes if you have a second. We feel lucky to have such amazing options for medical care available to us and medical insurance that will pay for most of his care.

With A starting school next week, Cole's new specialist schedule and a promotion (that I turned down) at work, we'll be busy. But busy for me is a way to keep my sanity and know for sure that downtime is well earned. And it turns out that matters to me.

Cole: Has legs, will use them

Coleman is crawling. Can I get a what what?

He crawled across our bed, the friction of the blanket kept his legs behind him. And so, we keep doing it. And keeping at it is working. The rest will follow, this I am sure. He is getting more confident with standing and taking a hand away to grab something. Also, when I pick him up or set him down, he goes to standing automatically. The mood has shifted here at our house to excited and hopeful.

The doctors found nothing physically wrong with his joints after a battery of tests, so the minor motor delay is because of a learned behavior picked up during the time he had his splint. Which is good in its own special way.

A word (or two) on escaping daily craziness

I am currently reading Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides. Although I usually eschew picks that Oprah makes for her book club, I had read about this book before she picked it and it piqued my interest. If you want to accuse me of something, feel free to do so now. It is a novel, and has historical bit and pieces. Perfect combination.

The main character experiences a fellow classmate dying from an aneurysm in the middle of the school play and her crush runs into her arms. She said in the midst of the terrifying ordeal, that she had never been happier because "The Object" was in her arms.

The last book I finished also had a similar vibe in how the main character needed and hung on to goodness in bleak circumstances.

...people universally tend to think that happiness is a stroke of luck, something that will maybe descend upon you like fine weather if you're fortunate enough. But that's not how happiness works. Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it.

--From Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Love, Pray

The character in that book is going through a really ugly divorce. Reading is one of things that I can do to stay sane. I read books, magazines, the Northeaster (a local newspaper), love the NY Times, once in a while, on a really bad day, I pick up an US Weekly, for pure brainless entertainment. I seldom get more than a few pages during the day, but at night, suddenly, I remember: the book on my nightstand or the half-read Allure that sits on my pillow, and I try to get to it as soon as possible. I do my night time stuff, settle in our cozy bedroom, and let go into a world that varies from new lip gloss and fashion stakeouts to a lovely coming-of-age story involving a gender-identified young woman that also includes historical references to the Detroit race-riots and the Turkish attacks on Greece. How's that for variety?

And sanity for me right now, today, is anything that does not include two small boys for a couple of hours.

Positivity, revisited

After reading my last post, I realized that I was being overtly negative. Sorry, Dr. So and So. I am sure (and hope) that you usually do a much better job.

Aidan had his fourth birthday last week. We had a little party, with a water theme, that was easy on me and lots of fun for his friends that came. It can be done! I was out to prove that it could be: a birthday party that is low on waste, reasonable on cost, and tons of fun for the attendees.

I reused paper that I had stashed away from previous years, and used glass and plastic (reusable) for the rest, I didn't buy anything paper themed, and we used recycled scraps for the place cards. We had a very free flowing schedule, knowing that it is stressful to keep 4 year olds on task. The kids played in the sprinkler and pool, dug in the dirt and sand, and swung their little hearts out. Then we came in and had a terrible for you but delicious lunch and homemade cupcakes with from scratch butter cream icing. Yum! The best part of all of it was that the small and tasteful gifts people brought were thoughtful and useful. And my one friend who brings nothing on request was the most praised. There was no after party fallout, which is what we wished for in our wildest dreams. No letdowns, no sugar lows, no big mess to clean up. Did you think that was possible? It is.

Today's weather is quite lovely and makes me long to wear jeans, a long sleeve T and a scarf. That is the best weather. No jacket, maybe a hoodie--oh--and real shoes. I am longing for rainy cool days after this drought-stricken summer. It was a good summer for events, you never had to worry that you'd get rained on. I was just looking at pics from last year's party and everything was so lush and green, it appears we live Seattle. And even when you water religiously, it's not the same as rainfall.

Coleman has his first PT appt. today to address his lack of gross motor skills. He is still doing the crab crawl and pulling up to his knees. They will come to the house, assess, and we'll see where we stand. I think it will warrant a few trips to see a PT doc, but not many more. He's a bit behind, but not too far with the break factored in.

Aidan is gearing up for going back to school on September 5th. We have a warmup again this year where parents go on the first day and meet and greet while the kids reacquaint themselves with the room, toys, and teachers. And Cole and I are signed up for an ECFE class together on Wednesdays while Aidan is in school, and it is in the same building, actually the same hallway, and is built specifically so that Moms of preschoolers can take younger sibs to the class. They seem to have thought of everything. I am looking forward to the separation time during the class where the kids stay behind, play and go to the gym, and the Moms talk it out. I have taken this Wednesday class before and this time is SO IMPORTANT for me and my friend, my brain. Coleman has always separated very well, we haven't really had a memorable incident yet. Which is great to see in print! It is almost as though it may not be a problem. WOW! Aidan had a very hard time, and it was one of the sorest points for me (and Joel) in his first three years. Through ECFE separation, both at St Anthony and when Joel was taking Daddy & Me on Saturday mornings, we had successful separation.

They both separate well with their grandparents. I am really not sure why we expect our children to separate well with strangers. Note to self and parents everywhere: this does not go well for at least six weeks And it shouldn't! We tell them that strangers and bad and scary. Ah, yes, the conundrums of parenting.

Down One Splint, Plus One Mobile Boy

We took Coleman's cast off and off he went. He looks a bit like a side-winding crab, but we'll take what we can get. When we went for the follow up, there was no bone overgrowth, which makes it a very minor fracture. Yay! Good news! The pediatrician we saw for our follow up was no Dr. Waller, however.

He was disputing the fact, after three weeks with a twelve month old in a KNEE TO TOE SPLINT that it was even necessary to have it on him. Hi, can we move into the future please? There is nothing I can do now to reverse the sleepless nights, the metric ton of Infant Motrin, the blister-over-blister that developed from the back of his heel rubbing the cast, the stress of having nary a Super Saucer nor a Johnny Jump Up to use to assist me in my mothering, need I go on? This guy might as well have been turned the other way in the chair, talking to his flat screen, trying to get it to connect with what he is saying. Regret! Misdiagnoses? STFU. I do not like you and I never will. No...no need to try.

Which brings me to a new realization: I intensely dislike when the obvious is stated and overstated, when information that needs not be is shared, and general I know this so I must say it-ism. Please stop this passive negativity from spreading. Your work to do so will not go unnoticed.

Can I just get this off my chest and be done with it?

1. Food poisoning
2. Shingles
3. One year old breaks leg
4. Degenerative disease in beloved dog
5. Four year old revisits biting


If you answered "What are five inconvenient things that happen in life but happened to happen to that lovely Hillesheim clan in the last 30 days?" you'd be right. DING DING DING DING!!! We have a winner!

If I used the Lord's name in print, I'd do it right now. I mean, fer lan sakes, cheese and rice, and for gunny saks. That's enough OK?!!!! Are you getting my message, loud and clear? Ok, thanks, great, no, sorry, no offense.

I am ending the streak. Right here and now.

Whew. That feels better. Now I am going back to bed.



Isn't today going to rock, Kate?
--the Universe

Hillesheim Family: Two kids over 1, none on the way

Coleman had his 1st birthday on Sunday the 1st. I see now that I write it out that it was his golden birthday. And just two days before, as a present to himself (a masochist like his father?), he fractured his right tibia. Poor little dude. You wouldn't know, however, except for the giant splint that reaches from his knee to his toes. His demeanor as the sweetest child on the planet has stuck, even through an injury that would make most adults turn into whining babies.

So, here is the story, since I know you are on the edge of your seat. He was standing up next to a chair and went face first into the floor, and his nose was all gnarly, Rocky-style. That was traumatic enough for me; I was covered in my darling son's blood from clavicle to elbow and beyond. It wasn't until later that I discovered that when I moved him, he winced and cried. I had noticed earlier that his legs were caught under a foot stool when I went to save him.

So, like any good mother, I started poking him to find out where it hurt. What do you expect? He does use sign language, but we haven't mastered "broken tibia". I came to his lower leg and he screamed out. Then I got him to calm down and did it again. This will begin a list in my brain of things that are not even remotely pleasant that we must do as mothers. Great, like there's room in there for that.

Anyhow, Coleman is doing much better and he responds very well to Infant Motrin for pain. It is pitiful and humorous all at the same time to see him try to get around. Or when you go in his room in the morning and he has managed to get the splint, tape, and bandages off. We'll be back in on Friday for Aidan's appointment and they'll do a little check on him then. And to add insult to injury, he is due for 5 shots on the same day. Sorry, little one, what I must do to not be hounded by the school district for the next 17 years.

We went to a 4th of July parade today in Forest Lake, where Joel grew up. It is a big to do. We got lots of candy (so much there was lots left on the ground afterwards), some packets of sunscreen (my favorite), a spinning daisy ring, pinwheels, political stickers, popsicles, and perhaps the best parade schwag I have ever received: string cheese. YUM! Coleman ate his right up. Tootsie rolls, Double Bubble, oh how Aidan loves thee.

We are halfway into what may be the best summer yet. We have been doing nothing but going for walks, getting together with friends and family for casual meals, spending time at the local pools and water parks. It is very relaxing, especially since I got smart and loaded up the back of the car with all the supplies for the latter. I find that more than anything, my intense love of organization and preparedness comes in handy with kids than ever before in my life. Before it merely meant irritating roommates and driving my mother mad. One of the sweetest things Joel ever said was that although sometimes it was a bit overboard, he knew my organizing made his life better. And for me, that is worth it all.

Independence Day: Do you want more or less?

Coleman wouldn't go down tonight. Which is saying a lot, since he has never (I mean it) had a problem going into his crib awake and falling asleep.

Joel and I are perplexed. I even nursed him. He hasn't nursed at night in months. Joel just came out of his room and said "He's still awake!" He just talked and talked until about 9:30, at which point he was silent; finally asleep. Approaching one, he is learning about decisions, choices, and downright rebellion.

He screamed bloody murder at Aidan the other day for switching out a toy, which in weeks past would have meant a kind-hearted murmur of delight. This happens as we age; wanting more and more independence in our decision making. And then somewhere around 30 we realize it is actually nice to have someone make the decisions, the choices once in a while. In fact, now I really prefer it.

Some pictures, just for fun

Coleman then --on the way home from the hospital
Coleman now

The Brothers Hillesheim in the Burley this week, heading to the park with Papa

Fifth, huh?

Did you know that Fifth's Disease is called such because when it was named it was the 5th most-common rash-producing virus? I am now an expert, because Aidan had it, then I had, now Coleman has it and somewhere along the lines we gave it to my Mom. Click here to find out more about it. Then we found out today that Coleman has bronchiolitis, which 30% of the time means that the child has asthma. Not great news, but 30% isn't too bad.

He is using a nebulizer for the second time since February. It is a strange little aspiration machine that is loud and dispenses the steroid Albuterol in a very low dose. It clears the spasms in the airway so they can sleep and not have a terribly disruptive cough.

Coleman has so seldom kept me up at night that last night I welcomed it. As our little (and last) approaches his first birthday, I am hanging dearly onto the smallest infant-type activity. As he lays there and nurses while I am half asleep, it could well be the first few months of his life.

Our pediatrician is not too worried that he will develop asthma or restrictive airway disease, but she wanted to say it out loud in order for it not to be a total surprise if he does. Which I appreciate. I find that now more than ever, being prepared is the way to go.

Year One of Preschool: Over

As many of you know, Aidan was in his first year of preschool at St Anthony this year. He is one of the younger children in his class, as he will not have his birthday until August. Which brings me to start asking questions about Kindergarten. Will he be ready? I asked a friend today and she said that out of three moms she knows with kids with August birthdays, two held their children back and the other wished she had.

The issue is really not academically will he be ready, but socially. And Aidan does well socially, but there are the issues of self control, sitting still, and the always popular plays well with others when you get to the big K. He will be continuing on to the second year of preschool in the two-year program that St A offers, after this year, with a teacher change mid-year and all, went well. His teachers had many good things to report, including a love and vast knowledge of how things work, many stories and ideas to contribute, and an ability to stick to it (sometimes rearing its head as stubbornness). So, the issue is not weather he is smart. So, we will see how next year goes. He will increase the number of days from 2 to 3, which I am looking forward to the most. Coleman and I will likely take Cole's first he and I only ECFE class during one of the days that Aidan is at school. With Cole's birthday in July, we will likely come to the same crossroads in 2011 when he goes to K.

I am excited to take an ECFE class with Coleman alone. And the good people that plan the St A schedule make it a point that the classes coincide with preschool so you can.

Today we had a preschool picnic at Central Park in St A where there is a lovely pavilion, covered picnic area, park, and water park. The water park is a small but super fun series of fountains and conical water-dumping mechanisms that enchant and delight children. It is not at all scary, too large, and there is no pool for drowning. This is good for the mothers (and dads, too), because there is virtually no poolside worrying involved and you never need to roll up your pants to get in and save the ball that went too far. Needless to say, I love it. And so does Aidan. He has gone from circling the whole thing and not getting wet at all last year to letting the water cones dump on his head and the fountains splash up from under his feet. He is becoming a brave little boy.

On being brave, I am reading an excellent book titled The Last American Man by author Elizabeth Gilbert. It will take a place as one of my top ten favorite books. I do not not fancy myself a book snob, and my top ten is not a list of Pulitzer prize winners. But I do like a certain kind of book, and I know within the first ten paragraphs if it will garner a purchase of the title.
I used to buy all my books, until I realized how silly I was for doing so, since there is this perfectly useful institution called the public library. And not just that, but the libraries' book request system, that I have come to adore. Ooh! An email from the HCL--what book will be waiting for me this time?

I have started writing. I am a writer, some would say. Not just the blog but writing essays and articles for publication. I was encouraged by a friend who writes for a living to do so. I find it exhilarating. Which is a pleasant surprise. I don't think I have ever said that about anything and my current SAHM status means that I do much of the same day in and day out. And parts are fun, even inspiring, but this feels like it is purely for me. And that is the best thing ever.

A Little Better, OK, A Lot Better

The good news is Aidan and I are getting along. Usually this is followed by bad news, of which I have none to report.

I reached into Colemans mouth this morning to feel for teeth and BAM! there are two molars. Two molars at 11 months, which I suppose is not surprising for the wee one who had six teeth at 5 months. And 7 teeth at 7 months. And now, 1o teeth at 11 months!

We walked over to our friends the Amundsen's last night (under 10 minute walk, I think we can call them our neighbors as well). They are free-spirited bunch, and it is inspiring. Their son is one of Aidan's first friends. Aidan and M picked up right where they left off. And their daughter A is truly one of a kind, a leggy wide-eyed girl with a surplus of stories, energy, and general goodness. Joel and I left their house with not an ounce of the Sunday blahs still left in us. Thanks to them, we started off our week with a fresh view.

Land of the Don'ts

I am attempting to write more often. Starting today. And I usually do what I intend, so there is hope for all Hillesheim blog junkies.

Today was a good day. Yesterday, not as good. But we are getting there. Aidan has adopted a doesn't want to go to school vibe. Not surprisingly, after three weeks of not wanting to do much of anything. I literally offered him a bath in pudding eating M&Ms a few days ago and he said "I don't wan.....what?"

This is who he is right now, and that is OK with me. Because I am the mom who doesn't listen to anything following the word don't. Tell me what you do want, and I will happily oblige. Just don't say don't! Aaagghh.