Watching Lucy and Milo is one of the best parts of having Milo. Day before yesterday, Lucy spent about 15 minutes cooing at him while he grinned and cooed back — a pretty sweet sight. And she calls him her "bro" as in "Mom, I need to go check on my bro." Again sweet, right?
And yet, among her drawings, we found this, which appears to be the universal symbol for "NO BABIES ALLOWED."
We have had an incomplete picture of kindergarten thus far. The main sources of information on how Lucy is doing are 1) Lucy herself, who can only tell us that the best part of her day was lunch, and 2) a daily behavior "traffic light": green (good), yellow (not good) and red (your ass is going to the principal's). She's managed to have one yellow a week, accompanied by details like:
"Lucy seems to have a hard time knowing who's boss" or "Lucy was playing in the supply closet for which there is no key, and locked it, locking all the supplies we needed inside."
So all we've known for sure is that Lucy is a semi-badly-behaved child whose best subject is lunch. Until yesterday. We had our parent-teacher-student conference. Gulp. Based on the way she's been running yellow lights, and given her past history with a teacher who just didn't like her, we were prepared for a serious talk.
Instead, we had a positive, productive conversation — with Lucy present — about what's going on with her. She's doing very, very well academically. Reading way ahead of her peers, which we weren't surprised by, but also exceptional in math, which was nice to find out since we don't do math, um, recreationally at home. She has strong interest in and understanding of science and social studies — Ms. P. said Lu "really knows how the world works."
And as for the behavior, Ms. P. wasn't too tough. She said lots of Lucy's trouble comes from being bored, or wanting to know where the limit is it all times, and that her job as a teacher is to keep Lu challenged. She also said that she has to remind herself that, for all Lu's advanced vocabulary and negotiation techniques, she is five, so when she has a tantrum or a hard time, she's just acting her age. Ms. P. also commented on Lu's constant soundtrack, and maybe we could work on quieting that down a little. Ms. P. is amazing. Can you imagine having the Noisiest Person in America in your kindergarten class?
It's hard to believe that this time two years ago, we were sailing up the Bosphorus. Seems like a lifetime since we were in Turkey. Our world is so tiny and short-term now — the three-hour increments of time, the limited distance we travel from the house, the smallish tyrants who rule — I can't fathom Turkey's ancient history or vast landscapes. Or their democracy, for that matter.
What I really can't fathom is fancy international travel. Without children. Will it ever happen again? For now, I am pretty damn excited to go to Wimberley for a few hours this Saturday afternoon.
p.s. Hi, Jo and Eva (English friends from our Turkey trip): hope we do manage to travel again so we can meet up with you somewhere lovely. Or you come here. We need an au pair or two.
...that Milo is interested? I sent Lucy to check on Milo in his bouncy seat in the the other room — is he happy or sad? She ran back and said, "Um, he just looks interested."
The peak of fussiness is nigh. Last night, Milo was awake from 3:30 to 5:30 a.m. Not crying, just awake, and threatening to cry if I put him down. So I didn't. I just held him and rocked him and enjoyed his company.
This morning, Granny came over, and Milo was a little less happy, but not screaming his head off. He did sleep in the afternoon and evening, but right now, he is screaming his head off while Jason walks him around the house singing to him.
Good times.
Still, I can't complain. At this same stage of the game with Lucy, I was was locked in the bathroom sobbing, "We've ruined our lives." This time around, I am calmly blogging, curious which combination of TV theme song, bouncing motion and pacifier position will settle him down. If I hear right, Jason found the right formula: Mary Tyler Moore wins again.
Even at his worst, the kid is all right.
"My children." It is still so weird to say that. Here are some photos of the little weirdos.
It's been a month now, and we're still getting to know each other, but I've compiled some notes on the newest member of the family.
What I know so far is that Milo...
...is a little animal. We moved him to his own room, despite my motherly desire to have him nearby, because even in his sleep he makes the grunts, groans, toots and snorts of a baby bison. He is working on being the Second Noisiest Person in America.
...has questionable taste. His favorite night-night music is pop rock/power ballads between 1982 and 1986 (minus Sammy Hagar-era Van Halen and Heart, which redeems him somewhat).
...likes to toga. He hates to be swaddled unless he has one arm free. Am thinking of dressing him as Caesar for Halloween.
...is fat. I mean this in the nicest, proudest way. He is a satisfying snack of a baby. I bite him all the time. He's delicious.
...likes his sister. Smack in the middle of this evening's witching hour (which, in Week 5, has accelerated to 1.5 hours of not happy anywhere from 7:30 to 10 p.m. Come over. It's fun.), he stopped his fussing to gaze at Lu as he sat on her lap during storytime.
So far, he's a keeper.
Father singing Good Times and Mary Tyler Moore theme songs to son.
Further proof I made babies with the right person.
Poor Lu. I feel like all I have done for 4 weeks is tell her to be quiet. I never realized until Milo came that she is the Noisiest Person in America. Her whisper is a scream. She sings constantly. She has been forbidden to close any door in the house because she can't close one without slamming it. And making me yell at her. And waking her brother. It is unclear at this point if it's her yelling or mine that is actually waking Milo.
I was trying to explain "inside voice" as in "the kind of voice you use in your classroom." She said, "Mom, I'm pretty loud in the classroom." Indeed.
Yesterday at Crenshaw's, there was a boy who "wasn't doing what I wanted him to do," according to Lucy. This is a constant theme with her: if people would just freaking do what she wanted, all the trouble could be avoided. Well, in response to this boy's disobedience, she ordered another boy to bite him. The would-be biter thought better of it and told on her.
Jason relayed this story to me, saying, "She put a HIT out on another kid." I had a hard time keeping a straight face. But it's not funny. Not at all. Not one bit.
