I have a vivid childhood memory of being really cold. Inside the flat. To our requests that the heating be turned up, our stepfather would always reply, “Put on a sweater.” To which we invariably responded by putting on not only a sweater, but also snow pants, several scarves, at least one woolly hat, gloves and ski goggles (the same came in handy whenever asked to chop onions as well, so versatile!). Anyway, this is Noah telling me he’d like me to up the thermostat.
One week at home. One looooong week at home. Coughing, fevers, more coughing, higher fevers. I’m fine. But I’m the only one. The doctor actually made a house call last night, and immediately prescribed antibiotics. Not least because the fever has been going on for so long that the child has lost too much weight. His eyes are huge.
Bonus to being stuck at home for so long? He’ll let me pretty much do anything, as long as it breaks up the monotony.
Copenhagen! November 25, 2010
Sooo, we went to Copenhagen in early November. I either truly forgot to post pictures, or (and I suspect it IS the latter) I am still recovering from the trauma and not have not yet been ready to reminisce and post about it. But weeks have passed! I’m ready!
A word on traveling with an 18-month old: Don’t. Just don’t. If you must, fly when he’s due to sleep, prepare yourself to walk up and down the aisles, and if there are two adults, have one adult board first and prepare stuff. Do NOT take the child on board until the veeeeeeery last second. No matter what the cabin crew prefers. Trust me, it’s better for everyone if the child spends the least amount of time possible in the teensy space allotted to him. But really, if you can avoid the trip altogether, do.
On the upside, Lil G will never be 18 months old again! And Copenhagen will be there for a return visit… perhaps without kids.
Fly, Lil G, fly! November 15, 2010
We headed out to the countryside this weekend, to enjoy a spell of warm weather. Also, we figure if we go on the occasional Lil G -led expedition, maybe he’ll be more amenable to sitting in the buggy, maybe he’ll see that we’re supporting him in his independence, maybe… well. What happened was that we let him out, he looked back once to see if we were watching, laughed, and took off. He went on like this for the duration of the trip.
Not so much “Hey, I’m independent, come on you guys, let’s explore!”. A bit more of “Ha HAA! F”ck off, I’m freeeee!”
Teach Your Children November 13, 2010
He squeals and squeaks, and if you still aren’t paying attention, he comes over and yanks on your trouserleg, and pulls on your arm, and maybe, if you really piss him off, he’ll throw himself to the ground and try to get a lot of tears on your feet. He suffers. So fine, you want to have the dregs of what was in my glass? Be my guest.
Maybe next time, just trust me, huh? I do know what I’m doing.
I remember St. Martin’s from my childhood (interesting how the link on wiki shows a picture of children in Germany in 1947… huh?), making the lanterns in the weeks preceding, practicing the songs, and then, on the night, walking around the neighbourhood with lanterns lit, singing the songs while mothers and fathers frantically searching for matches as the candles were blown out, and the general excitement of being outside with your friends and their parents on an autumn night. Also, fire. I love me some fire.
So Big M came with us this year, He Who Will Not Be Contained would have distracted me too much, and N needs a lot of cuddles these days.
So on the one hand, I got to be with N, and walked with him and the 100 other children and parents around the park, and around the block, singing songs, on the other hand, we mostly ended up with pictures of Lil G at the playground.
Here’s the main reason it’s a bit difficult to take him anywhere. First, he doesn’t want to stay in the buggy. Second… he escapes into the unknown.
Handedness November 8, 2010
When Noah was little, I hoped he would be left-handed. I am left-handed, and I’m of the “Left is ZOMG SO COOL” persuasion. Sure, learning to write was a touch more difficult than for the others, perhaps (Austria having been just a little medieval in this regard, although jesus, my step-uncle is ambidextrous, because THAT’S how medieval they were even further back), I know it wouldn’t make a difference these days. I remember when I told one of our relatives of my hopes, her reaction was “But why? Why would you WANT your child to be left-handed, and as such destined for a difficult life?”
Huh? I mean, as much as I like to play the martyr card (I’m short!), I’m not sure my life has been more difficult due to handedness.
But Noah is definitely right-handed. No question.
Lil G may just be my New Hope.