First thing's first, I'm working on making my blog more reader, and poster, friendly. I know my text is all over the place and mixed in with my photos--I'm trying to figure that out. Also, I really was hoping this blog would be a forum of sorts, with visitors leaving comments (thanks to those of you who regularly have!) and discussions happening regarding all sorts of things parenting and not. With that in mind, I'm hoping to facilitate that. I know it's up to me to make prompts interesting! That said, if you've got a thought to share, please share with abandon! Ok, now on to our adventures.
A question to you out there--parents, law enforcement folk, wise and worldly others, at what age are we to teach our children about calling 911 in an emergency? I thought 3 1/2 seemed a good age. We've recently told Juan about strangers, about what to do if someone tries to take him, about why he doesn't answer the door without us there. These all went ok. Yesterday I decided that he should know what to do in case I was hurt and no one else was home. It seemed like a good idea, in fact I still think he should know that now, but it did come withe some perhaps predictable consequences. As I said, I told him yesterday and we talked about what an emergency means (although I think he's still a little unclear about this). So tonight while I was brushing Mary Lu's teeth he called 911. I knew right away, just the look on his face, but he kept telling me he didn't, so I left it at that. We went into his room to read books and, about 2 minutes later a police officer knocked on our door. Mary Lu and I went upstairs. He was very nice and wanted to talk to Juan. It is of note that Juan had not yet come upstairs, usually, you know, he wants to know who's here. I called him a couple times, then he peeked his head out of his room, I told him to come upstairs and that the police officer wanted to talk to him and he burst into hysterical tears. He did come upstairs and then frantically ran back down, seriously hysterical, then he came back up again and ran back down. The officer (who, seriously, looked like he was 12) was pretty astute I thought for someone who must not have children because it certainly may have seemed that Juan was in mortal fear of something (like me) for doing something wrong. Anyway, the officer left, and I went downstairs to talk to Juan. He had calmed down and was looking at a book but the second I said I wanted to talk about the whole thing, he burst into tears again and ran away from me. Finally we talked and a whole bunch of issues came out. While I do think that he was worried about calling when he wasn't supposed to (I, of course told him it was perfectly understandable that he did this since it was something new he learned and he was curious about it), the biggest issue seemed to be who would take care of him while I was in the hospital. It was also the first time he ever asked me not to tell John something. When we were finished talking and he calmed down I told him we would talk about it more in the morning with John and see if we could explain things a little better together. He asked me not to tell John. This was another big moment, he's never done that before. Poor guy. So, I'm wondering about others' thoughts on this and if anyone has explained this to their own children.
The other big thing today. Mary Lu takes her naps on our bed. We block the sides with stuffed animals and when she wakes up she just calls us and we come and get her. So, she was down there taking a nap today (as was Juan in their room). After a long time I hear a noise coming from the living room, and Border has sort of a funny look on her face. I sort of finish what I'm doing and meander my way out there after a few minutes. I look at the top of the stairs and there is Mary Lu, standing on the top of the stairs gently shaking the baby gate as if she's done the same thing every day of her life. So, she climbed off our bed then climbed all the way up the stairs and waited for me to come by. I was so unnerved by the whole thing that I was very theatrically frozen in my tracks, trying to understand her being on the WRONG side of the baby gate and exactly how that happened. I continued to be in shock for the next 15 minutes or so, looking at her and shaking my head like she was an 8 year old all of the sudden in my house. She totally seemed to get that she had stupified me. Add this to the fact that I am haunted by a dream someone had, like, 8 months ago, of Mary Lu falling and I am now half psychotic with fear. Anyway, clearly John and I need a new nap plan before tomorrow.
I hope the photos are mostly self-explanatory. Juan is taking a hiatus from ice-skating until next year. On the flip side, he had so much fun skiing (check out the photos, he's going down the hill solo!) that we are going back on Sunday. The skiing photos were taken with my phone so they look weird. He writes lots of books about John Henry, the Titanic, Pesticides, and, today, Peter Penguin. He plays his guitar and makes up songs as he goes (mostly about the Titanic; he is completely enthralled with the Titanic). Mary Lu is loving coloring and sorting anything and everything all the time. She "cooks" with me at night and puts things in pots and adds spices too. She loves to dance. I cut her hair again.
A question to you out there--parents, law enforcement folk, wise and worldly others, at what age are we to teach our children about calling 911 in an emergency? I thought 3 1/2 seemed a good age. We've recently told Juan about strangers, about what to do if someone tries to take him, about why he doesn't answer the door without us there. These all went ok. Yesterday I decided that he should know what to do in case I was hurt and no one else was home. It seemed like a good idea, in fact I still think he should know that now, but it did come withe some perhaps predictable consequences. As I said, I told him yesterday and we talked about what an emergency means (although I think he's still a little unclear about this). So tonight while I was brushing Mary Lu's teeth he called 911. I knew right away, just the look on his face, but he kept telling me he didn't, so I left it at that. We went into his room to read books and, about 2 minutes later a police officer knocked on our door. Mary Lu and I went upstairs. He was very nice and wanted to talk to Juan. It is of note that Juan had not yet come upstairs, usually, you know, he wants to know who's here. I called him a couple times, then he peeked his head out of his room, I told him to come upstairs and that the police officer wanted to talk to him and he burst into hysterical tears. He did come upstairs and then frantically ran back down, seriously hysterical, then he came back up again and ran back down. The officer (who, seriously, looked like he was 12) was pretty astute I thought for someone who must not have children because it certainly may have seemed that Juan was in mortal fear of something (like me) for doing something wrong. Anyway, the officer left, and I went downstairs to talk to Juan. He had calmed down and was looking at a book but the second I said I wanted to talk about the whole thing, he burst into tears again and ran away from me. Finally we talked and a whole bunch of issues came out. While I do think that he was worried about calling when he wasn't supposed to (I, of course told him it was perfectly understandable that he did this since it was something new he learned and he was curious about it), the biggest issue seemed to be who would take care of him while I was in the hospital. It was also the first time he ever asked me not to tell John something. When we were finished talking and he calmed down I told him we would talk about it more in the morning with John and see if we could explain things a little better together. He asked me not to tell John. This was another big moment, he's never done that before. Poor guy. So, I'm wondering about others' thoughts on this and if anyone has explained this to their own children.
The other big thing today. Mary Lu takes her naps on our bed. We block the sides with stuffed animals and when she wakes up she just calls us and we come and get her. So, she was down there taking a nap today (as was Juan in their room). After a long time I hear a noise coming from the living room, and Border has sort of a funny look on her face. I sort of finish what I'm doing and meander my way out there after a few minutes. I look at the top of the stairs and there is Mary Lu, standing on the top of the stairs gently shaking the baby gate as if she's done the same thing every day of her life. So, she climbed off our bed then climbed all the way up the stairs and waited for me to come by. I was so unnerved by the whole thing that I was very theatrically frozen in my tracks, trying to understand her being on the WRONG side of the baby gate and exactly how that happened. I continued to be in shock for the next 15 minutes or so, looking at her and shaking my head like she was an 8 year old all of the sudden in my house. She totally seemed to get that she had stupified me. Add this to the fact that I am haunted by a dream someone had, like, 8 months ago, of Mary Lu falling and I am now half psychotic with fear. Anyway, clearly John and I need a new nap plan before tomorrow.
I hope the photos are mostly self-explanatory. Juan is taking a hiatus from ice-skating until next year. On the flip side, he had so much fun skiing (check out the photos, he's going down the hill solo!) that we are going back on Sunday. The skiing photos were taken with my phone so they look weird. He writes lots of books about John Henry, the Titanic, Pesticides, and, today, Peter Penguin. He plays his guitar and makes up songs as he goes (mostly about the Titanic; he is completely enthralled with the Titanic). Mary Lu is loving coloring and sorting anything and everything all the time. She "cooks" with me at night and puts things in pots and adds spices too. She loves to dance. I cut her hair again.
