Fiesta, Fiesta

We've recently started doing rounds of the birthday party circuit.  I thought we were the only freaks with a three-year-old who had never been to a birthday party, but at the first party we attended, another shell-shocked parent confirmed her family was in the same boat.  She and I actually bonded a lot at that party because, well, birthday parties are not the events we remember.

The first party we attended was for a little girl in Ree's preschool class who was turning three, and it was just an odd experience.  It was at Chuck E. Cheese, and it turns out our Chuck E. Cheese has very few activities for the preschool crowd.  Apparently, the days of the giant ball pit are over.  Keeping Ree entertained was a chore, which just seems silly.  The kids spent no time together, all running off in different directions with their families.  And it was a family event.  Although I took Ree by myself, I was the only single parent.  Everyone else arrived with their entire family for the party.  As though Chuck E. Cheese as the theme wasn't enough, the mom had gone overboard with a Little Mermaid theme, and had brought her own table cloths, balloons, and decorations.  The party favors were crazy.  The mom had beach pails professionally personalized and filled them with beach and Little Mermaid gear.  The party started at 2:00, and we were on time figuring the party would be pretty structured.  We actually arrived just before the birthday girl and her family, who had all that setting up to do.  Given that they weren't set up and no other guests arrived until almost 2:30, I thought we had the wrong time, and I apologized profusely to the little girl's grandparents.  Nope, turns out everyone else was just late.  Because Chuck E. Cheese still booted everyone out of the birthday area at 3:30, this resulted in the birthday girl not opening presents.  Ree was sad about this.  But she was even more sad by the fact that we lost one of the lollipops from her beach pail.  Yes, that was her take away from this party.  We lost the lollipop.

But I learned from this party.  For everyone one child you invite, expect four guests.  Don't expect people to show up on time.  And never lose the lollipop!

The next party, also for a little girl in Ree's preschool class, was a little more traditional.  A little more.  It was a pool party at her house, and the parents had set up a slew of kiddie pools and slip-and-slides in their backyard.  The food was kid-friendly trays from Chick-Fil-A and a friend had made the birthday cake and some extra cupcakes.  However, invites still went out to their 60 closest friends via Evite, and given the size of the party, they tactfully requested no gifts.  (Ree was initially disappointed that we did not get to shop for a present.)  When I arrived, I was told where the keg was for the parents, and the kids were all sent outside to go crazy in the water.  I sat with the other parents for awhile, but poor Ree was dying out in the yard.  Ree likes structure and organized activities and knowing what's going on, and running around jumping in and out of pools was not her style.  She wouldn't even try to interact with the other kids.  She and I ended up hanging out on the deck for awhile, and the birthday girl actually ended up joining us.  She was a little overwhelmed too.  The girls ate dinner with me, and I did the best I could to distract them from the parents' neighbors who were doing shots of Jack in the kitchen.  After dinner and the shots, it was time for birthday cake.  Ree dutifully ran up for a slice along with the other kids, but in the mayhem, the lady handing out cake never looked down and saw her.  She kept passing slices over Ree's head to the kids behind her in line.  I intervened, got a dirty look, and Ree and I found a quiet spot on the play room to eat.  Then she and I quietly snuck off.  This party had not been our scene.

I'm not sure what I learned from this party.  It mostly made me sad because Ree had no fun and I never saw her playing with any other kids.  I was starting to really worry about her.

Then, last weekend, we went to a party for a coworker's son who was turning one.  This party at least made sense to me.  It was mostly adults, but the party was for a twelve-month-old whose parents work alternating schedules to keep him out of childcare.  The birthday boy doesn't exactly have a wide social network.  The mom bought party hats and blowers for the kids who were in attendance, and the party was held at a park in a shelter that was next to a playground and a baseball field.  The food was simple - burgers, hotdogs, chips, fruit, and pasta salad.  Dessert was a big, ooey-gooey cake from Costco.  Ree not only got to shop for a birthday present, she got to help open presents.  The mom put Ree and another four-year-old girl in charge of bringing her the gifts and ripping them open.  And Ree and this little girl bonded.  They had SO much fun together.  They ran around on the playground together, then they ate dinner together, then they practiced ballet on the baseball fields together.  We ended up staying an hour and a half longer than planned and only left because Michael was teething and miserable.  (The whole family did go to this party.)  We had a really good time.

The four-year-old girl had a brother who was nine, and he pretty much summed up my thoughts on birthday parties.  He said, "This party is okay, but I like parties with games."  Yeah, me too.

GOOOOOOOOL!

It is World Cup time again.  For those of you not in the know, the World Cup is played every four years, and during the World Cup, there are three soccer matches daily for a month.  Of all the sporting events that suck my husband away from me, this is one of the least annoying.  First of all, it only happens every four years.  Secondly, it will always hold a somewhat dear place in my heart because the first time I watched the World Cup was in the summer of '98, when I was in London and I could watch the games from the pub at our school that accepted our dining hall meal cards as payment for pints. 

My husband, of course, is watching all the matches every day.  Because the games are at 7:30 a.m., 10:00 a.m., and 2:30 p.m., Ree sees it as a big nuisance that prevents her from watching reruns on PBS Kids.  Leon sees it as background noise.  But Michael, our little TV junkie, thinks this is the best thing ever.  He regularly plops down to watch the matches.  He occasionally gets inspired by the TV, gets out his soccer ball, and starts kicking it around the house.  Thankfully, even he eventually wanders off to play.  Due to only having very basic cable, we only get the games on Univision, which means that in addition to the crazy buzzing noise from the vuvuzelas, we get Spanish commentary.  And no one in our house is fluent in Spanish.  But one word translates well.  GOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL!  Whenever someone scores, no matter where he is in the house, Michael comes running to watch the replay of the goal.  And then Michael starts running in circles screaming GOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL! too. 

Our Little Math Nerd, Part II and other Kid Craziness

This is a total brag and is mostly for the grandparents.  So if you don't want to hear me droning on about how sometimes my kids actually do cute and amazing things, stop reading!

Back in those long ago days when Ree was an only child (how could that have only been 18 months ago?  It feels like an eternity!), we made it a point to make sure she was intellectually stimulated. We did the things parents were supposed to do.  We limited TV, we read books, we took her on lots of adventures.  And then the boys were born.  And all of those things stopped.  So not only was she suddenly getting lots of TV, fewer books, and no adventures, the boys were getting none of the good things she had.

Over the past few months, things have started returning to "normal" and we have started doing some of those things again, but there's always that nagging feeling that we are letting Ree down and setting the boys up for failure. Which is why I'm always so surprised when the kids show signs that they are actually learning and thinking.

Leon chatters constantly.  He is always talking.  When he is upset, the chatter continues while his body shakes and he waves his little fist in the air.  Although we occasionally recognize words coming out of his mouth, we are convinced that he is primarily speaking Ukrainian.  It must be genetic.  When he is angry, we know he is cussing like a little Cossack. 

But Michael doesn't say nearly as much.  We do think it relates to his teething agony - it hurts his mouth too much to make certain sounds.  Consequently, it's easy to dismiss him as the one who isn't learning as much, but he really is absorbing things.  Last week he and I sat down with a book about shapes.  A different shape is featured on each page and the book has a wheel you turn with shapes on it.  You are supposed to turn the wheel to match the shape on the wheel to the shape on the page.  Without any prompting, Michael did it correctly for three pages in a row.  Apparently Ree isn't the only one getting math concepts.

In addition to all of his chatter, Leon makes me smile with his need to take care of his "little" brother Michael.  If Michael is upset, Leon gives him a toy to play with (unless, of course, Michael is upset because Leon stole his toy, which happens frequently).  When my parents were visiting, my mom asked Leon if he wanted more juice.  He handed my mom his sippy cup, then went over to Michael, ripped Michael's sippy cup out of his hands, and took it to my mom.  (His execution isn't too great, but at least his heart is in the right place.)  Yesterday as the boys were getting up from naps, I got Michael out of his crib first and sat him on the floor.  He started crying.  I tuned him out and went to get Leon.  Leon wouldn't get out of his crib.  He just kept pointing at Michael's crib.  Finally I realized that Leon wanted me to give Michael his blanket to calm him down.

The funniest care taking moment, though, was in the bathtub on Saturday night.  Leon decided to wash Michael's hair.  He definitely didn't want to pour water on Michael.  He had a cup of water in his hand and was pointing at the shampoo.  He was going to take care of him.  Fortunately, I was able to intervene before he started pouring water on Michael.

Leon miraculously also shows signs of intellectual intelligence.  Ree has foam letters she plays with in the tub, and the boys were playing with them the other night.  Leon was sorting through them, and as he showed them to me he kept saying, "This?  This? This?" so that I would identify the letters.  In the middle of the "this"es he suddenly said, "K,"  and impressively, it was the letter K.  The "This? This? This?" continued, and then he said, "B!" and it was the letter B.  I guess all those ABC books are good for something.

As impressed as I was by Leon's letter recognition, Ree's reading skills always floor me.  It was crazy enough to me when she read me the words on a color-by-number coloring page last winter.  Then we started noticing that she knew sight words.  On Saturday, I was at the grocery store with the three kids by myself.  They were all riding in one of those giant carts that actually has seat belts for three kids.  Leon was having a bad day, and I had to pick him up, so I handed Ree my list to hold while I held Leon and pushed the cart.  That's when she started reading me the list.  It sounded like she was reading it in order, but that seemed nuts, so I asked if she was reading or just guessing words.  She said she was reading, and then she pointed to the words while she read it again.  Alright then. Not only is she reading, she can read my chicken scratch print on a grocery list.

My Little Math Nerds, Part I

Ree is my daughter.  She may be a bit inept socially, but she's great at math.

A few weeks ago, she came to me and asked why a square and rectangle both have four sides but look different.  What a fabulous observation!  I know I was not that smart at that age.  (I'm not that smart now.)  And so I told her all about quadrilaterals. She will not be caught off guard in middle school (or first grade or wherever they teach that term now.)

Yesterday, while she was eating lunch and I was cleaning the kitchen, we had the following conversation.

Ree: Mom, what do you call a shape with 7 sides?  Dad doesn't know.
Me: It's a septagon.  (Hoping that was right.) 
Ree: Daaaad!  It's a SEPTAGON! (duh)

Jeff was a bit perplexed since they had not been having this conversation recently.

So I then added that a nonagon has 9 sides and a decagon has 10.  I didn't even bother mentioning pentagons, hexagons, and octagons, since that's, like, baby stuff.

Ree immediately jumps in and says, "A star has 10 sides."

It was my turn to be perplexed, so she repeated herself.

After I thought about it, all I could say was, "Yup.  A star has 10 sides.  It's a decagon."

She was satisfied and resumed eating her macaroni and cheese.

Morning Adventure

Jillian Michaels has nothing on my children.  Talk about tough trainers!  Ree used to beg me to work out so she could play in the "tunnels" that I made with my body while doing yoga.  While doing strength training she would also tell me, "Mom, you need to get your weights.  The ladies on TV are using weights."  Not following the teacher is a cardinal sin to a preschooler, so she would repeatedly tell me until I gave in and hauled out the weights.

These days if I get to work out at all, it's first thing in the morning.  And given that I go to work at 7:30, that requires getting up very early, and I am just not that motivated at that hour.  However, Michael has taken up where his sister left off, and he makes sure I am up bright and early.  This morning he first checked in at 5:38.  I battled him back to bed and got him quietly tucked in at 5:49.  My alarm had been set for 6:00, but since it was quiet in the house, I reset the alarm for 6:30 and promptly went back to sleep.  At 5:58 Michael started screaming.  His biological clock is a bit too good.

So, by 6:08, I was dressed, I had Michael's diaper changed, and we were out the door for our morning walk.  I have to admit, once I get going, I do enjoy this time.  I get a little exercise before work, and Michael and I get a little time alone together.  I also don't have to worry about either of us getting sunburned, and it's nice to watch the neighborhood wake up (although I've reached the conclusion that Monday through Friday, most people wake up either grouchy or angry).  It's also a fun time to explore.

We had some nasty storms yesterday afternoon, and this morning we got to survey the damage.  When I pulled into the neighborhood yesterday on my way home from work, I noticed there was a high water sign.  I thought that was unusual.  I'd see the main street flood before, but there had never been a sign.  I also had to laugh because it was the shortest sign ever.  Apparently they wanted you to know the exact height of the water.

The first thing I noticed this morning was puddles everywhere, including quite a few deep ones in the middle of the street.  (I can't help but wonder why this street slopes down in the middle.  Seems like some odd engineering...)

Instead of dirt, our soil is black sand, and the sidewalk was pretty much covered in it this morning.

Yes, it was also trash day today.  Michael loves "off-roading" as we veer around all the gigantic 95-gallon trashcans.

Finally, we discovered the real problem.  The water line was waaay up in some people's yards.  Yikes.

The picture is a little dark because, well, it was still kinda dark out, but there are four rows of lines in this yard from the water cresting and receding.

Our yard was mercifully free of damage.  I am glad we live at the top of a "hill."  It's going to be an interesting rainy season.