Category Archives: The Boy

Weekend Roundup

Things are moderately insane here, and there’s a lot of stuff that’s being shifted lower on the list of priorities. Bear with me if I owe you a reply about something via e-mail or a phone call or blog post or something. In the meantime here’s a very brief overview of the last three days for my own records.

Friday Ceri and Phnee came over for a long-anticipated day of writing/crocheting/knitting. I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. I somehow managed to get a thousandish words written, which mystifies me because I’m fairly certain I spent most of my time talking about books and yarn and spontaneously rewriting TMBG songs to be about knitting instead of Advil. And eating. Dear gods, the food. Not that we planned to eat piles of it, just that it was pretty steady. Phnee baked muffins ( “These are delicious,” I said. “They should be,” she said, “they’re your recipe.”) and brought biscuit dough to bake on-site. Ceri brought tea sandwiches for lunch, two kinds of preserves (OMG the carrot cake preserve that I wanted to eat with a spoon), and there was baguette and baked Brie with onion confit and pots and pots of tea. The only shadow upon the day was that Phnee’s laptop decided to turn its nose up at the perfectly good electricity here at the palace.

Friday night HRH and Jeff H. shared a rental van to bring the rest of the bunk bed pieces home and move our no-longer-being-used double dresser to chez Jeff and Airea. Saturday morning HRH and Liam built the bunk beds (and I’m not kidding, the boy actually did help move the mattress and the base through the hall and into his room, and helped screw things together) and there is now a pirate ship construction site lion cage tree house in Liam’s room. I felt like death on toast, so I kind of dragged myself around and stayed out of their way. Saturday afternoon I had a strings-only rehearsal so I dragged myself to that. Managed not to embarrass myself, despite not being wholly there in mind or body. Came home, had a hot bath, rested, reheated homemade pizza for dinner, and then once the boy was in bed we headed out for Emru’s visitation. One never knows what to expect regarding visitations or funerals, but any uncertainty was immediately dispelled as soon as we stepped into the memorial complex. There was upbeat music playing, and people laughing and chatting. The family we spoke with were all equally upbeat, and the whole event really was the celebration of Emru that it couldn’t help but be. He had been dressed in a beautiful white dashiki with exquisite white embroidery around the collar and down the yoke, and a lovely black and white woven cloth of African design was draped over the lower half of the casket. (Perhaps slightly irreverent thought: I’d forgotten how darn tall Emru was.) We met all sorts of people and ended up being among the last to leave. On the way home HRH and I talked about how we really didn’t know much about what the other wanted regarding death arrangements, and discovered that we pretty much intuited the basics anyhow. It’s something we need to think about properly, though, especially now that we have a child. (HRH, of course, isn’t difficult at all: there’s a pond, and there will be a glorious fire, and several days of drinking and loud music of various kinds. Most of us know this. Mine’s similar.)

Sunday I woke up feeling a bit less like death on toast. I mostly worked on the programme notes for the upcoming concert while HRH and the boy played in the construction site tree house. With this new bed the furniture has been rearranged a bit and his toys now live in the two drawers under the lower bunk, so we’ve eliminated the shelves that used to hold his toy bins. Now the room has a very play/activity feel to it, what with the multi-purpose upper bunk (which doesn’t have a mattress on it and will soon have a set of those interlocking foam pieces to make it a bit more comfy), the easel, and the craft table. He has decided that he should be listening to his music while he’s in there, so his CDs have been moved into his room. He’s been playing there instead of in the living room, which is great because it means HRH and I can now relax in the living room when we need to rather than being dragged into the boy’s play. Mid-morning we had our usual pancake brunch, then we went out to buy the boy a play tool set because he’d had so much fun helping HRH build the bed and move the pictures and shelf on his wall. I kept working on the programme notes, which I finally finished last night; I just need to translate them today. I made candles while the boys watched Toy Story and used up the last of my vegetable/soy wax; I’ll need more before Yule. After dinner we had a concert where the boy played the drum and HRH and I alternately got the little xylophone thing and the bells to play and I laughed so much that I cried.

In bed last night I finished Thornyhold (why have I not read this novel before? Oh, right, because I went through my Mary Stewart phase in late high school, before it had been written), read the first quarter of Snake Agent, and wrote a thousand words. It didn’t feel like I did a lot yesterday but apparently I did.

Today: Translating, and doing the first half of my next evaluation assignment. And hopefully some writing, because I’m feeling behind and I really don’t want to lose the momentum of the past two weeks.

Forty-One Months Old!

Arthur came over to stay with us the week after Thanksgiving his parents attended an awards dinner, and Liam dashed around the house with him showing him things. My favourite was, “These are my baby fish! They love me!” And I happened to be in the kitchen at the time so I peeked in… and saw Liam standing on his crafts table with the aquarium cover flipped up and his hands in the water, saying, “I will pet them!” That was scotched in a hurry.

Liam, 31 October 2008Have I ever mentioned that he sleeps with BunBun over his head? He does. Still. It’s odd. And he loves homemade alphabet soup. I’ve probably mentioned that before as well. In an effort to slow the mass consumerism that the paper inserts from the Thomas train packages are inducing, we have explained to him over and over that we can’t just go out and buy toys if he decides he wants them. There is a finite amount of money, and the toy budget is not huge. If he decides he wants something, he must save up his money and buy it himself. Now he pores over these papers and says, “I am going to save my money and buy [insert train here]. Then I will save up my money and buy [insert next train here].”

Words being used this month that are newish include transporter (as in a vehicle that moves things, not a Star Trek particle disassembler/reassembler), ricochet, and delightful. He got a little MegaBloks car in his Halloween gift bag from preschool and HRH said, “Hey, cool, it’s an ambulance!” “No, Dada,” the boy said patiently, “it’s an emergency vehicle.” Shows what we know. The other day he suggested something and added, “because that would be delightful.” One day after being with the caregiver he said, “I want a sister.” “A baby sister? Like Tallis or Ainsley?” I said. “No, a big sister!” he said. “Like Grace!” (Er. That might be difficult.)

Liam, 31 October 2008The Incredibles has again become his current favourite movie (thank goodness, as we were getting very sick of Thomas and the Great Discovery) because HRH made himself an Incredibles shirt to wear for Halloween. So Liam demanded that we bring out the too-small Incredibles shirt I made him for last year’s Dash costume, which we will allow him to wear as a sleepshirt only, and now he and HRH wear their shirts together and pretend they are superheroes. Which is just fine.

Starting about a week and a half ago we began curling up in our big bed to read a chapter of the Winnie the Pooh books every night. We finished the first book in a week (okay, I snuck an extra chapter in some nights because I like the snuggling). He loves to pore over the map of the Hundred Acre Wood and trace paths between everyone’s houses. I’m not sure what we’ll do when the second book is finished. I think we’ll try A Bear Called Paddington, and maybe once that’s done we can try The Wind In The Willows again. I’m so thrilled that he’s finally old enough to sit still for chapter books. He’s getting better and better at making up stories. He needs to work on climax and denouement, though. At the moment what happens is the story clips along and then suddenly stops. We know this because he will say, “Blah blah blah, the end. Was that a good story?”

The other day he turned to me and said, “Mama, I think I need my cello.” This was the first time he’d asked of his own accord and not been watching something that he wanted to play along with, or had agreed to a suggestion made by me. As a result he wasn’t super bouncy, which was a good thing. I got the viola out for him and he carried the case into the living room, set himself up, held the bow in approximately the right place and said “I’m going to sing.” “You’re giving us a concert?” I said. “Yes! A concert!” he said, and started singing the Rainbow Connection. He finished and lifted the bow (the way I do, I assume) and looked up at us, and we clapped. Then I was directed to go get my cello so we could do it together and give a concert for HRH. And we did it again the next day. It was terrific. I’d love to have a regular music time every week.

Liam and HRH share oatmeal, 2 November 2008The other evening we were at a gas station that had a Tim Horton’s in it. HRH was putting gas in the car when Liam said, “Mama, roll down my window; I have to say something to Dada.” So I reached back and rolled the window down. HRH leaned over and looked in. “Hi, pal,” he said. “What can I do for you?” Liam leaned toward him very seriously and said clearly, as if he were ordering at a drive-through window, “I would like a medium iced cappuccino, please. And one for Mama, too.” I began laughing hysterically. HRH shot me a Look. “I didn’t put him up to this, I swear,” I gasped. It could have been worse. He could have ordered a double-double.

Other Liam posts this past month:

practising for Hallowe’en: “I say ‘trick or treat!” and they give me… good luck.”
Sparky upholds voters’ rights
the parent-teacher interview: “My son has minions!”
memo to the weather gods: please do not indulge the small child

Sparky: Upholding Voter’s Rights…

… even when the country’s not his own.

SPARKY: [enters MAMA’S office and sees a picture of BARACK OBAMA on the computer monitor] Who’s that?

MAMA: Barack Obama. The United States, which is a country just south of Canada, is having an election, and Barack Obama is one of the people running for president. Remember when we went and voted for our government? The United States is having their election in four days.

SPARKY: [as he turns and dashes out of the office] Okay! I’ll be there!

My son is nothing if not supportive. I wish more people of voting age had his enthusiasm about elections. I mean, this kid is ready to go vote in the US election, and he’s (a) not American, and (b) not of legal age. But then I’m not American either, and I’m ready to vote in the US election just to help make sure the country doesn’t shoot itself in the head again. Or at least shoots itself in a different way this time; one cannot know until one has tried.

ETA: I should probably link the post I was reading when Sparky came into the office.

Note To The PTB:

Yesterday was made of fail. I want it wiped from my mind and from the record in general, thanks. The only good points were scoring the cello case and my lesson. Oh, and the boy opening a thank-you gift from the Nightdemons family for the use of his baby swing and absolutely loving it. (Thank you!)

Seriously, I know that for a variety of reasons I must be stressed, but I didn’t need to combined total of two and a half hours in traffic. Especially when it made me late for both things I needed to be at on time. Especially not on top of the driving out into an area I’d never been, and through traffic there too earlier in the day. I cried in frustration so much yesterday at various times that I have the crying-hangover thing happening this morning.

Thanks go out to Pdaughter for keeping the boy an hour past her regular ‘closing time,’ for the hug, and the glass of cold water, and the rolls of Rockets; to HRH, who ordered Chinese food; to the boy himself for gently patting away my tears with a tissue and for his patience; and to Nightdemons for providing that little bit of gift joy when we finally got home last night.

I hate, hate, hate that after doing next to nothing all spring and summer, construction companies rip roads up just before winter, and more than they should at once in that final rush to get a Band-aid on the roads before the snow falls. I hate that there is no way to get wherever I need to go without encountering construction-based traffic on every alternate route I can think of, traffic made worse by people trying to avoid yet other construction. I would so be doing the public transportation thing if it wouldn’t take three times as long as a car trip and take three buses. Even with the traffic.

I am determined that today will be nothing but relaxed. And there is the boy’s first official Halloween excursion tonight to look forward to. Yesterday he was practising: “I knock on the door, and they open the door, and I say ‘trick or treat!’ and they give me… good luck.” Good luck? Whatever. I’m not going to correct him. The first time someone gives him candy his head is going to explode. Am I am so looking forward to seeing it.

Parent-Teacher Interview Review

According to his preschool educator, our son is very grounded, confident, and sensitive to what’s going on around him. His language skills are incredibly advanced, and he’s showing excellent problem-solving and pre-math skills. He just needs to focus on slowing down a bit, because his mind is racing ahead and his body can’t keep up, so he’s (a) clumsy and (b) so eager that he forgets to enjoy what he’s currently doing, and quite often forgets to finish.

The other children love him, the younger ones especially. He often ends up with a small crowd of them following along, and he can give them things to do or suggest ways that they can play.

HRH, once everyone was buckled into the car, discreetly made a fist and pumped it once, saying: “My son has minions!

And because today is their Halloween party, here is what has been obsessing Liam and providing HRH with a creative outlet this past week:

Halloween 2008