Cy created a little mess in the corner a few minutes ago. I told him, “Oh no! We’ll have to vacuum that right up!”
He yelled:
“Yeah! Bac-yume!”
Then ran to the door to the basement, beyond which sits one of my favorite friends. The Dyson.
And apparently, Cy feels the same way, because he said,
“Hi bac-yume friend! Bye Bye yuckies!”
Yes, that’s my boy.
I’ve been looking over my blog for the last little while, and I’ve notice that I defaulted to Cy stories. Which isn’t necessarily contrary to my norm, but I think I usually let you all in on what I’m doing more often. It’s so difficult for me to write about teaching piano (which is going very well, by the way, I have a waiting list of students now!) or teaching at the local business school (which is also going well, I got good reviews and a daytime class this module) because the stories aren’t mine to tell. And there are laws protecting my students. Until I figure out how to write about my experiences in a way that won’t reflect on my students or school (which is impossible since this blog is not anonymous) I will probably remain mysteriously silent on the subject.
Let me just say that I don’t know why I ever doubted my calling as a teacher. I love it, it’s important to me, and it fulfills a part of my personality I think I had lost there for awhile.
When I was at BYU I had a professor tell me that I had a “certain buoyancy.” And although I didn’t know what he meant, I FELT it. I felt buoyant. Like I lifted the people around me, and found other people to lift me, and I was happy. However, as the last two years have kicked the crap out of me and my little family, I felt a lot of that slip away. Standing in front of a classroom again, promising people that they can be better than they are, I feel it coming back again. Like perhaps it’s been there all along, but that I’ve let it go dormant.
And my school, grad school, is really really good. It’s hard, because I get enough forwarded emails about immigration and “aliens” taking up resources that we can’t afford to feel…uneasy about writing about what I’m learning about. Not because I don’t feel strongly about it, but because I don’t want to fight about it. As an ELL teacher I will be advocating for families and children. And I feel truly fortunate to be in a program that is dedicated to multicultural education. Where I can learn about multicultural education as PART of the “back to basics” program. From what I’ve seen in schools and in MY school, I’m not suited better for anything else. Except maybe motherhood. Here’s hoping I can do both.
So yes. That’s me in a nutshell. And I have to tell you, it was painful to write, and probably painful to read. Hopefully I can form sentences about myself without it being so difficult in the future.
Oh yes! I left out the most exciting happening of late! On Wednesday night a moose charged my car on the way home from school. I almost wet myself. Seriously. Angry moose, head down, running at my windshield, head taller than the top of my car, absolute craziness. I turned off my lights and got around it before it did any damage. But holy crap.
I’m glad I’m alive to write this post. And that the car survived.
Phew.
So this morning I took Cy to the park. His favorite home day-care group was there, so he got to play with his friends for an hour or so. On the way to the car afterward he said, “Gets?” which is his way of asking for chicken nuggets. And I said, “No Cy, I think we’re going to go home and have a sandwich.” To which he replied, “Noooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and started to cry. After about a minute or so I said, “Cy, what’s wrong, what do you need?” and he looked at me over his sunglasses and said, enunciating every letter and being as clear as he could, “GEH-EETTT-SSSSSS.”
Thanks, Bud.
I also lost him for a couple minutes this morning. And when I found him he was standing behind the shower curtain with the baby monitor on whispering, “Shhhhh! Listen listen listen!”
Another new thing is the “I see you!” game, which seems to bring him major joy. He’ll crawl into some small space and say, “Iseeyou!” and… it’s way cuter in real life. Promise.
Before nap today he insisted on his “yellow pah!” and ” bown bank!” which roughly translated means that out of all of his pacifiers and all of his soft blankies, he wanted the yellow pacifier and the blanket with the brown polka dots. And it kind of makes me wish he didn’t know his colors. (Nah. Not true.)
He’s still a champ at brushing and flossing. Or rather, should I say being brushed and flossed. We call flossing “teeth tickling,” and it really makes me think it’s all in the name because he giggles through the whole thing. Dr. Lauren (our dentist) would love it.
In other news:
My Mom allowed a political candidate to put a sign in our yard yesterday. When came home from the park this morning his opponent’s sign was next to it. I guess we are a house divided.
Her hair is still pink. In that one spot. And it’s still cool.
I steam mopped the kitchen today for the first time in a couple weeks and now feel better about life in general.
I have a crap load of school work to do and no time to do it. And I’m blogging.
I was force-fed M&Ms by a classmate last night, but other than that I’m doing really well on my “eat well” or at least “better” diet I’ve been on. For a week.
I will leave you with some pictures.
“gets”
first pony ride!
“I see you!”
I heart Halloween.
So I woke up this morning at 5am. (It involved Jillian Michaels and a yoga mat. I don’t want to talk about it.) Cy woke up at 6, was in his high chair by 6:15, and the power was out in about the same amount of time it took him to smear peanut butter all over himself. What ensued was utter ridiculousness. I went to find our lantern, leaving a two-year old yelling, “Ok?” from the kitchen darkness and me yelling, Mommy is right here, it’s ok!” from the upstairs bathroom closet. My Mom woke up and the only other flashlights we could find were Cy’s animals, that we call “The hippos” even though one is a zebra. A classic case of minority marginalization. Even though there are just as many hippos as there are zebras…so I guess they’re both minorities. Along with the Thomas flashlight. Long story short, every time we looked at something our flashlights either giggled, hummed, or choo chooed…which was actually a pretty amusing way locate each other at 7 am. Cy choo chooed, La La “do do do doed” and well…the zebra makes a sputtering noise. (Don’t worry Em, we’re keeping their batteries fresh.) After running around in the dark for an hour, and sensing that the sun wasn’t actually coming out today, Cy settled into my lap to watch movies on my iPhone. I think we dozed a bit together, and I just smelled him for what felt like 17 glorious years. Then the power came back on, and life resumed. But before naptime he allowed me cuddles again. And as I drove to school this afternoon I could smell his baby scent on me. I think we both needed that.
and have a meeting in the library, so I was forced to wander further from the Education building than usual, further away from grad students coming to school after work.
And I remembered something about college that I had long forgotten.
Everyone has bedhead.
Even me.
It’s weird.
PS The professor does too.
Super weird.
So I already know that I’m going to start writing this post, and Cy will wake up from his nap. I’ve stolen a few minutes from reading, preparing presentations, and cleaning to try to catch up on what’s been going on with Cy this last little while.
I think he’s adjusting well to the new schedule. Four days a week I leave the house at 2:30 and don’t get back until he’s asleep. John and my Mom have worked out their own night time rituals and habits- working together depending on who’s home to get the child fed, bathed, and in bed. I am sad, sometimes, that I am not here every night. I wonder if he’s cranky some days because he’s missing me, that I’m messing up his attachment by pulling away at such a vulnerable age. But there are a few things wrong with this line of thinking. a) I’m not pulling away, b) all ages are vulnerable and c) we’re partners in this attachment thing. All of us. And I can’t explain to you the profound peace I feel at being back in school again, with my chosen area of study. With the fact that I once again have access to academic journals. But that’s another blog, entirely.
We’ve decided to let the whole pacifier use thing go unchecked, in light of the other transitions that are happening. However, we encourage him to “leave it in the car” or “leave it on the chair for when you get home” and it seems to be working. He’s talking so. so. much. Even getting bossy.
For instance.
The other day I explained to Cy that his Daddy had to go to work, he was going bye-bye in the car. Cy said, “No! Mommy Bye-Bye! No Daddy Bye-Bye!” I was shocked. And a little amused. And a little hurt. But at least I know he’s not missing me that badly, huh? Plus, he started to tell me, “Mommy kitchen!” awhile ago whenever he wanted to exclusive attention of his Pop Pop or La La. Don’t you worry. I tell that rascal that he’s not the boss of me.
He’s also got this new fascination with Elmo, ever since our Elmo Potty DVD acquisition. He takes his Elmo doll to the potty a few times a day (often tries to potty himself) and checks in the back of Elmo’s diaper (that Cy insisted we put on him) and says, “Elmo poop?” He has started to announce when he needs to…uh…use the facilities. And it makes me think that we need to teach this child some euphemisms. Because an entire chapel full of people don’t need to know that he’s needs to number 2, although he did decide to announce it last week during church.
the look on Elmo’s face says it all
He eats very little most days, but his 2nd year appointment went well and they even checked his blood and declared him full of the necessary nutrients. I guess cheese, crackers, bananas and chicken nuggets are actually life-sustaining. And the doctor even noticed that he is a master eye-roller. And I mean, award winning. I didn’t realize that two was a little early to have that particular skill down pat.
Over the entire month of August, for some reason, people kept telling me that he is very “mature.” I’m still not sure what that means in a toddler, but I think it could be the way we are able to talk to him, comfort him, make deals with him when he is upset and how usually, he is obedient, even when it’s hard for him. He’s becoming a lot more verbal, he hits sometimes, throws small tantrums others, but I can see him just working it all out. And he really is just a good, good boy.
We’ve got him in Music Together again, which I love. He’s also doing a “Follow Me” gymnastics class. Which some weeks seems more effort than it’s worth. But I think I’ll be grateful for it in February when the snow keeps me from wanting to go outside too much.
His THREE (yes three) birthday parties went really well. First, we had a surprise party with John’s sister and children a few weeks before his actual birthday. There was cake, and they got him some more IKEA trains, which bascially…made his entire year. We play with them every day. EVERY. DAY.
“Mommy, Gack?” means he expects me to construct a track with at least two levels and an inner loop and an outer loop. John’s much better at it than I am.
His second party was on his birthday, and involved lots of playing in the backyard with my cousin’s son and my Auntie, who drove up to help us celebrate. There was yummy cake with two candles, and thoughtful, fun presents. Party number two ended with a PJ dance-athon and some toast and milk before our visiting family took off home again. It was a wonderful, peaceful day. Made me wonder if the big party (looming on the horizon) was unnecessary- he had so much fun with one little cousin and some grownups watching them play.
presents in the backyard
two year old cake
saying bye-bye
“big party” festivities
But the big party did come. And it was also amazingly fun. I had made so many plans about how the table would look, what we’d serve for food, the activities we’d do…and the night before the big day I realized I could a) do all that stuff or b) sleep a little bit. Instead of cake, we had donuts. Instead of elaborately painted cardboard car cut-outs and car-related games, we had coloring and playing in the backyard. I’d say it was a smash hit. Cy received even more thoughtful gifts, had tons of fun with 10-15 friends (I could never get a good head count…) and didn’t nap at all that day. Not. At. All.The one true amazing touch was our goodie bags, made by my Mom, and stocked with a book, a car, and some other fun toys.
In the end, his birthday month was full of Cy celebration from beginning to end. And next year, I’ll think we’ll be having donuts again. We just called ‘em tires and went on with the “Car” theme. It was pretty cool.
I think, it the end, that no matter which way you looked at it, it was a good month.
And now, hello October. My favorite month of all.
Also, I wanted to share this with you. Imagine being in the bathroom, doing your business, opening the trashcan to find a tiny man staring at you.
It was weird.
And is making me reconsider this whole re-use shopping bags thing.
I just wanted to whine a little bit.
That is all.
Well, I’ve been afraid of changing, because I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, children get older, I’m getting older, too.
So tomorrow I start school again, full time. I will be away from my child on a regular schedule, more often than just teaching piano, which I still do, and on top of teaching a class at a school in town. And I feel so very confused by it all.
That’s not true at all.
I’m not confused. When I found the school and the program I’d be attending, it felt like such the right choice that I wondered why I had never seen it before. And when I called to inquire about the possible teaching position and then got the job, it was miraculous. And when I see my kids playing piano, even after a long summer vacation, and feel proud of them, I know that teaching piano is a good addition to my life, too.
And yet, there will be less time.
Less time to be at home full-time, which I think, in all honesty, I would love to do.
And I think, also, that if I were home full-time, forever, I would also miss out on some OTHER things that I really want to do.
I want both SO BAD. Ack.
I’m excited to be Erin again. Although I’m still so amazed to wake up every day and be Cy’s Mommy. (Don’t you love the first time another child calls you that? “Cy’s Mommy? Can I share his snack, too?” or “Cy’s Mommy? Can we come over and play again tomorrow?”) I’ve cried every night for three days thinking about getting in the car and driving off to another part of my life, one that I don’t share with my son or anyone else. One where people might not even know that I’m a mother. That they might not even see me in that role that has over-rode (over-ridden?) every.other.role. I’ve had in the last two years.
But I can’t deny that I felt (STILL FEEL) so much peace when I thought through this decision early this summer. When I prayed about it and when I applied and fought for it and when I arranged my schedule so precariously and packed this September so full that I am actually scared of what it will feel like. And then added some more.
He’s almost two, and I guess it’s as good a time as any to get going on some more of my personal needs and goals, and work towards more stability for our little family as well.
But I’m seriously thinking about pushing bedtime back half an hour (15 minutes?) so that I won’t miss it. Even if he does choose other people to read him stories, I kind of like the idea of being an option. You know?
