And a Photo For You

Today's Happenings and Recent Conversations with Andrew

Today was supposed to be Andrew's first class at the Botanic Gardens in DC, but strife over outfits got us out the door too late to make it on time. Rather than get discouraged, I took heart that we had established a new rule ("Andrew can choose any outfit so long as it is clean, but dirty clothes cannot be worn.") and we opted for Plan B: Udvar Hazy Air and Space with friends. It gave me psychological strength that Andrew was wearing the blue track suit he has refused to put on his body since the purchase of the yellow one. It was better, in his mind, than wearing jeans and a sweater.

Udvar Hazy was a great success: fighter pilor simulator, Cessna piloting, racing around with other boys, the shark-faced WWII plane. It all ended with Andrew throwing a tear and scream filled tantrum because I would not buy him a space shuttle toy that cost $38. So we left, taking the long, snowy stomp path back to the car for Will's snow-smashing eager feet. Andrew was strapped in the stroller I brought for Will or tantrums, and coatless.

In the car on the way home: "Why did you say we were not going to go and then we left? Why did you say that?"

Me: remembering that I had told him we would look around in the bigger souvenier store before leaving, but then leaving directly when Andrew threw a tantrum, tells him like it was, "You threw a tantrum, so we had to leave."

Andrew: "I am ready now. I won't cry anymore."

Me, bracing for another bout of tears: "But we have already left. It is too late now."

Andrew, shockingly brightly: "I have a nice idea! How about we try again next time!"

Me: "Good idea."

Andrew: "Good thing Daddy makes so much money."

My dad watched the boys while I went to a very uneventful appointment. I returned to my parents' house to find all three of them in my parents' room watching cartoons. My dad and Will were under a blanket. Everyone had chocolate candy and a giant bowl of candy lay a foot away on the bed. Apparently Andrew had spotted the giant candy bowl on the shelf in their room, gotten a huge happy smile and raced to help himself. My dad instructed him to eat out of sight of Will, who then began loudly protesting, "Me! Me! Mine!" Andrew, who had initially hidden behind a sheer window dressing, was allowed to come out and eat Hersey's kisses on the bed. Will did the same. Who am I to judge? I fed the boys ice cream for breakfast for goodness sake. (Andrew also ate a tuna sandwich cut into footballs.) Calories. (Speaking of, I weight 10 pounds more than I did a year ago.)

My dad also told me that Andrew told him all about the toy that was "too expensive" and leaving the museum because he "cried and cried." Slowly and painfully, perhaps, Andrew is learning. Right? (please!)

We took Will to the pediatrician for the sole purpose of getting his tube reinserted. The nurse was unable to do it (and his poor sweet nose bled and continued to spot bleed for the rest of the evening), but the office is charging me for a visit anyway. It seems that if a mechanic cannot fix the brakes of my car, he wouldn't charge me. It is awkward to dispute these things with my care provider, however, so I will wait until I get a bill and then take it up with the office managers. It just does not seem right to charge me for something that was not accomplished. Nothing else was done, after all.

I recorded a few little things Andrew said yesterday and today about you or ice cream or both.

"Mommy, I just like eating ice cream for some reason." Yes, that was at breakfast.

"You knw what I think about when I go to school? You. And William."

"You know why I was putting ice cream on the floor yesterday?" (I have no idea what he is talking about, btw) "Because I wanted to feed daddy! I was pretending to feed daddy?" This was followed by hysterical laughter.

He has also been talking in his sleep and reporting dreams about monsters who are scary but then are scared of children. From Monsters Inc? He is asleep now, and if his closing bedtime story infilatrates his dreams, he is dreaming about a boy who refused to sleep until he had little strength or speed and was cranky and then turned things around by going to bed. And his mom was grateful. It is a very realistic dream.

The UnWilling Sledder

I actually did have to sort of force Andrew to keep sledding for a bit. I was sure he would be thrilled by the hill that he recognized as "very very steep!" He liked it.
Will in Alisha's car after he was forced to sit on a sled. His discontent was such that I never made him go down a hill. The wind was fierce and it really was cold. He had a great time in the car, according to Alisha, who stayed with him and Genevieve.
See how upset he was? We were just pulling them in the snow at this point.
During breakfast (Will was already done refusing food, can you believe it?). I am fostering a love btwn him and that doggie.
I wish I could crop this to just his face bc it is so cute and sad. We did have a fun day in the snow.

Thursday PM--Sidewalk Chalk and Bike Rides

All of these photos show Will as much older than I see him.
The weather was so nice that day. I was eager for Will to wake up so we could go outside and take advantage. Will declared, "Purple!" as he grabbed the chalk in his left hand and drew a line with it. (He was just repeating after me, but it was really cute.)
The boys were thrilled about the sidewalk chalk (a thrift store purchase).

We miss you!

Thursday morning--at the park

Andrew was still recovering from his earache and cough, so I kept him home again. Well, I kept him out of school. We still got out.
We played our Shark Game. That jungle gym pictured here is the boat in shark infested waters. Andrew is usually the captain of the boat, but he broke role to get the game exciting again. I am surprised by how nimble Will looks in the background, running.
The boys love the swings. They took turns trying to kick me while I pushed them and prentended to be injured and fall down. Remember when Andrew stopped enjoying swings when he was about a year old bc my dad pushed him really high once?
I wish I had better captured Will's happiness on the swings. He was laughing, he was so overjoyed.

A Weekend Last Fall: Lincoln Memorial

It was unseasonably warm that Saturday. We drove the long way to the zoo and looked at a DC neighborhood we thought might be affordable and safe (but it really is not either one).
We ate at a Burger King, in the booth made into a car.
We stopped at the Lincoln Memorial on the way home. It went from grey and windy to a sudden downpour. Will and I waited while you ran with Andrew for the car. We all got absolutely soaked. Will and I followed Andrew's lead on the ride-home outfit and I just hoped we didn't get stopped. We picked up Katie on the way out of town.

I think the boys already look older now than they did in these photos.

I am so glad we didn't forget our camera that day.

Working From Home

This was taken the day Will and I came home from the hospital last month. Brigham kicked us out of the house within 5 minutes of the taking of this photo. He actually went outside and started the car. I guess my dreams of Brigham working from home are dead.

Conversations with Will

Will has learned a new word. He looked me straight in the eye with his huge round blues in his little narrow face and said, "Tube," clutching at the tube coming from his nose. Then, "Nose." This was shortly followed by, "Dadda," and rounded off with "In." He may have been speaking the way I communicated as a missionary in Chile, but he got his point across. Yes, Will, Daddy jams a tube up your nose and down your throat.

Oh, when I got in his face to take this photo this morning he looked at me and said, "cheese!"

Andrew is still sick and Will is coughing, too, but they are on the mend and I think I will take them to the park anyway. 60 degrees can only be salubrious.

1980

Andrew could correctly identify his father but had to be informed that the blonde toddler was Uncle Josh. I think Brigham and Josh look they are each modeling for a different side of the family, Brig for the Cannons and Josh for the Barneys. I just want to put Josh in leiderhosen and be done with it!

Thanks, Sarah, for sending me this photo!

In January, for the price of a small piece of furniture, Brig took Andrew to Monstor Jam at the Verizon Center.
Andrew wanted to drive there in the Suburban, a vehicle worthy of its own post. We convinced him that it was too big to park, a reason that appealed to Andrew.
Monstor Jam was a nice opportunity for Brig and Andrew to spend some father-son time together,
to introduce Andrew to new Monstor Truck characters with less offensive names (like Superman, as opposed to Gravedigger, pictured at top),
and lessen Andrew's obsession wih the trucks by scaring him just a little bit.
As a side note, Andrew's haircut was perfect for the occassion.

"An economic crisis is a terrible thing to waste."

Who do you think said the above quote? Would you believe President Obama's chief of staff? I think it is very telling.

Why labor over stating anything more when Sowell has said it so beautifully for me.

The big story last week was the incredible Congressional rush to pass a bill that was more than a thousand pages long in just two days— after which it sat on the President's desk for three days while the Obamas were away on a holiday.


There is the same complete inconsistency in the bill itself. Despite the urgency in President Obama's rhetoric, as well as in Congress' haste in passing a bill which few— if any— members had time to read, much less consider, most of the actual spending will take place next year, at the earliest.


Not even the most Alice-in-Wonderland actions will arouse the suspicions of those who have what William James once called "the will to believe."


Nowhere was that will to believe greater than in the election of Barack Obama to be President of the United States, not on the basis of any actual accomplishment, but as the repository of hopes and symbolism. His supporters among the voters and in the media are not going to stop believing now.


It will take a lot more than blatant inconsistency for the faithful to lose faith. It may take catastrophe— and there may well be catastrophe.

For some, even catastrophe under Obama can be blamed on George Bush. After all, Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected to an unprecedented third term in 1940, after two terms in which the unemployment rate never fell below 10 percent and was above 20 percent for 21 consecutive months.


FDR also inspired the will to believe— and he also had Herbert Hoover on whom to blame all the country's troubles.


It may seem strange, to those who never lived through those times, that someone could be President of the United States for eight straight years and nevertheless escape responsibility for mass unemployment by blaming his long-departed predecessor. But we may yet see a re-run of that scenario in our own time.


Nothing in the amateurish way the current administration has begun suggests that they have mastered even the mechanics of governing, much less the complexities of the huge national problems looming ahead, at home and abroad.


The multiple Cabinet nominees withdrawing before their nomination can come to a vote in the Senate are just one example of this amateurism.


Another example was the Secretary of the Treasury holding a much heralded unveiling of his recovery plan, only to publicly embarrass himself and the administration when his speech made painfully clear that there is no plan, but only pious hopes. The plunge in the stock market after his speech suggests how much confidence he inspired.


There is far more to fear from this administration than its amateurism in governing. The urgency with which it has rushed through a monumental spending bill, whose actual spending will not be completed even after 2010, ought to set off alarm bells among those who are not in thrall to the euphoria of Obama's presidency.


The urgency was real, even if the reason given was phony. President Obama's chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel, let slip a valuable clue when he said that a crisis should not go to waste, that a crisis is an opportunity to do things that you could not do otherwise.


Think about the utter cynicism of that. During a crisis, a panicked public will let you get away with things you couldn't get away with otherwise.


A corollary of that is that you had better act quickly while the crisis is at hand, without Congressional hearings or public debates about what you are doing. Above all, you must act before the economy begins to recover on its own.

The party line is that the market has failed so disastrously that only the government can save us. It is proclaimed in Washington and echoed in the media.

The last thing the administration can risk is delay that could allow the market to begin recovering on its own. That would undermine, if not destroy, a golden opportunity to restructure the American economy in ways that would allow politicians to micro-manage other sectors of the economy the way they have micro-managed the housing market into disaster.

Night Sledding (Jan 27)

On the occassion of the first snowfall of the season, I attempted to take the kids sledding. It took too long getting out the door and Will fell asleep in the car, so we aborted the trip.
We went again post-nap pre-dinner. When we arrived at the spot recommended by a friend, I realized that I had been there once before, almost two years ago. I was in Fairfax, getting bar application things done. I was pregnant with Will and Andrew was just an 18 month old baby. It was a hot day and the large brick building overlooking our sledding spot had been a construction zone of endless fascination to Andrew. It was strange to be back there on such a different day, such a different point in my life, even if only two years separated the two me's.
Will was not very excited about sledding. He tolerated it at best, but mainly he hated it. Andrew was in heaven. So was I.
We sledded next to a patch of kids. I had the impression it was a group of family friends or neighbors. We parallel sledded, but that was enough to make Andrew feel included and excited. He chose the sledding spot. When we got home, I asked Andrew what his favorite part about sledding had been.

"The kids," he replied, even though we had not spoken to a single one.

Licking a razorblade does not constitute an emergency

We were making Valentines card tonight when Andrew disappeared to brush his teeth (he flosses now, too, thanks to a preschool lesson). I helped him get the bubblegum toothpaste on the brush and returned to Will. 20 minutes after Andrew returned he decided to show me his tongue. Covered in blood.
"What happened?"

"I licked a razor."

"Why, Andrew? When? WHere was the razor?"

"I don't know, honey. It had bubblegum on it." (toothpaste)

So, if your child licks a razor blade, do the following:

1) Ice wrapped in a napkin or cloth
2) Pressure
3) TV to keep him applying that ice forcefully
4) Expect it to bleed a lot but it won't hurt
5) Don't worry, in 30 minutes he will be playing in boxes with his brother
and providing neigh neigh rides as well. Then he will take a bath with goggles on.

At the Horse Show, Frying Pan Park Jan 2009

It was such a cold and grey day, but there was something lovely (to plagiarize) about it.
We came because Will loves loves loves "Neigh-Neighs!" They were holding a Jumper Horse show, but it was sort of boring. (The smallest jumps were earliest, and we were there very early.)
Andrew kept refusing to wear his coat. He took it off at every opportunity, even though he was almost crying from cold. He could not love us dear so much loved he not showing off his Adidas track suit more. Will slept the whole way home.

Brigham came home and told me that John Updike had died. It felt strange to think that he was no longer a part of the world that he described so well. He wrote a book of poems called "A Child's Calendar," one poem per month. When I learned of its existence I bought it sight unseen. I have not regretted it. Here is my favorite.

November

The stripped and shapely
Maple grieves
The loss of her
Departed leaves.

The ground is hard,
As hard as stone.
The year is old,
The birds are flown.

And yet the world,
Nevertheless,
Displays a certain
Loveliness--

The beauty of
The bone. Tall God
Must see our souls
This way, and nod.

Give thanks: we do,
Each in his place
Around the table
During grace.

December 12, Puddle Jumping

Will was desperate to wear rain boots like Andrew. Luckily, they were where I could find them.
Will wanted to run through, and initially was thrilled. When I caught a photo of him, though, it was after he touched the water with his hand. He didn't like that much for some reason.


I could barely drag Andrew back inside. December in Virginia.