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Hail and farewell
Today is my last day working at the Tribune-Herald, and so this will be my final blog post. For the last month I’ve been applying and interviewing for teaching positions around Central Texas. Yesterday, I was offered a position in Hillsboro, with new teacher inservice beginning next week. So, I am doing the whirlwind of packing up my desk and trying to finish projects already started.
The decision to leave the Trib became easier as the summer progressed. Until the start of June, I hadn’t really even thought about it. Then as my teaching friends were spending the summer doing fun activities with their children, I began to realize how important those 10 weeks each year could be for Sam and me. The parenting class at my church reinforced this feeling. Then it just became a matter of trusting God to open the right opportunity.
The high school is exactly 30 minutes from the door of Sam’s daycare, and the school schedule is such that I shouldn’t have to move Sam. He will just get dropped off a few minutes earlier in the morning. Otherwise his routine will stay completely the same, except for extra holidays spent with his Daddy.
I’ve enjoyed sharing our first year together with all of you. Now I need to concentrate on my new job and my permanent role as Sam’s Dad. I know you all understand.
So I leave you with a final fun story, from last night at home. Sam got a bulldozer at Christmas, the kind he sits on and pushes with his feet. It makes authentic-sounding noises. Last night, Sam discovered he could build something with his blocks, and then demolish it like a real construction worker with his bulldozer. I may never find some of those blocks again, because he got really in to the activity, pushing blocks all around the house while laughing with glee. He also kept saying the word “happy.”
God willing, this decision on my part will give us both more time to say that word.
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A smile to brighten a cloudy day
I can usually count on Sam to brighten my mood when I pick him up from daycare after a tough day at work.
When I arrive at his classroom door and call his name, he usually turns around and his face lights up with the absolute joy of seeing Daddy again. It would be hard not to feel warm and fuzzy after seeing that smile. And it never, never gets old.
My heart breaks every day when I leave him with his teacher and he gets the sad face with the hunched eyebrows that means he’s about to start crying. I worry about him during the day, until I see that big smile in the afternoons.
That’s not the only time he can brighten my day, of course. The small voice saying “Hey,” and sleepy smile that greets me in the morning are also highlights. The excitement he gets when he asks me to get down in the floor and play with the blocks makes me smile. And the giggly laughter when he wants to wrestle with me is infectious.
Even when he gets in trouble, he makes me smile. He is so tender-hearted that when I have to put him in timeout, he hugs my leg to make sure we still love each other. It’s pretty hard to stay upset when the child you love more than anyone or anything else in the world is hugging your leg.
Here’s hoping your children can brighten your days too!
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Making the move to swipe a wipe
More on the continuing saga of when will Sam be ready for toilet training:
Lately, I have a new way of knowing when Sam has dirtied a diaper. After making the deposit, he finds a piece of paper, a tissue, or a napkin and pretends to wipe his bottom. Of course, he is doing it outside his diaper and his pants, so he’s not getting his hands dirty or making more of a mess.
When I take him into his room to change his diaper, he also tries to wipe his bottom after I’ve taken off the dirty diaper. In this case, he usually does get his hands dirty, but at least he is confined inside his crib, and I’m able to clean his hands before he makes matters worse.
I assume all of this behavior has originated from him watching me in the bathroom. A couple of times, he has even tried to wipe my bottom after I’ve visited the facilities!
I still don’t think he has forethought, enough to know that it’s time to head to the bathroom, but at least he’s beginning to associate some of the behaviors together.
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Suddenly crayons
Suddenly Sam is very interested in crayons.
He likes to open his coloring book and lay all of his crayons out on a page, in nice rows.
Then he puts the crayons back in the box.
You may notice that very little coloring is occuring. It’s all about getting out the crayons (which he’s calling “book,”) and putting them up.
A variation of the game is to get all the crayons out of the box, then try to wedge as many as he can between his foot and the bottom of his shoe. The crayons point outward from the toes.
I’m not sure what it’s all about, but I remain hopeful that this will lead to some actual coloring. So far, he’s scribbled a little on one page and the inside cover.
All in all it seems pretty similar to what he was doing with the coins and plastic gemstones, but without the rattling noise. I’m sure it’s part of his motor skills development.
It’s just funny to watch.
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Does it sparkle? Does it jingle?
Sam had a very entertaining weekend, all without playing with “real” toys.
It all started Friday evening when I unearthed an old “treasure chest” in a closet. This was a lunch box, painted gold with fake gemstones glued on it, that I had used in my teaching career several years ago. Thinking it might be fun for Sam, I got it out of the closet and noticed it needed some refurbishing. Off we went to the craft supply store.
Saturday I popped the old gemstones off the box so that I could give it a new coat of gold paint. The old gemstones ended up in a box that a tube of diaper cream had once come in. Sam spent most of the day Saturday dumping those fake gems out of the box and putting them back in one at a time. As a variation of the game, he would set one gem on an old coupon, going through the box and a stack of old coupons till he had used all of them.
By Sunday, most of those plastic stones were lost, so Sam turned his attention to a tin canister of loose change that is on a table where I keep my keys. Again, he would dump the change in the floor and put it back in the canister one coin at a time. A variation was to place coins on the top of his bubble mower and race around the house until they fell off.
For obvious reasons, I preferred him playing with plastic gemstones.
For the record, the treasure chest is now refurbished, complete with new plastic gems. Sam’s more interested in the leftover gemstones than the ones glued on the treasure chest.
Oh, to be young and full of imagination….
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Preparing for a birthday
Sam’s birthday is fast approaching. It comes in less than two weeks.
He turns 2 on Aug. 14. Since the concept of age and birthdays is pretty meaningless to him now, I’m planning for a small affair. I don’t see the need to fill my home with a bunch of two-year-olds hyped up on sugar and wearing goofy hats. We’ll save that for another year, when Sam can appreciate it more.
No, I think a young birthday is more an occasion for the parents and grandparents, and the camera. Sam’s grandparents will be coming from Tulsa for the big day, and we’ll enjoy spending some special time with Sam.
So far, here are my plans:
Sam’s favorite cartoon is “Thomas and Friends,” so I am hoping to get a cake with Thomas the Tank Engine on it, and maybe some Thomas balloons. Anyone got a suggestion on where I find that?
I’m planning to go to What About Cupcakes? to get some of their mini-cupcakes to take to Sam’s class at daycare. I’m pretty sure his teachers will appreciate me getting the small size of sugar for the kids.
I’ve found a “laptop computer” for Sam that looks pretty similar to mine. When you press the keys, it says the letters and shows them on the screen. It is recommended for ages 2+. Sam seems fascinated by my laptop and wants to punch all the buttons, especially when I am doing some critical work, so I expect this to be a hit. Of course, that means he’ll probably be more fascinated by the box than the toy.
So, that’s my plan. I’m open to added suggestions. Let me have ‘em!
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Cleaning up messes, as long as they’re liquid
Sam hates a mess. I should categorize that by saying he hates a liquid mess. He’s perfectly content to have toys strewn all over our living room.
But spill liquid and the boy turns into a dedicated cleaner.
Last night we had spaghetti for supper, Sam did pretty well with his little fork in getting the food off the plate and to his mouth. But some spaghetti sauce dripped on his shirt and the floor in the process.
I went to the kitchen for a paper towel to wipe up the mess. When I returned, Sam took the towel from me and wiped it up himself.
Later last night, Sam’s juice cup began leaking. Sippy cups are poorly constructed in that if one plastic piece gets dislodged inside the lid, the contents run out like a sieve. Again, Sam took the paper towel from me to wipe up the mess himself.
Lately, Sam is also big on carrying dishes into the kitchen after meals to place them on the counter. He even stops at the trash can to scrape off any food remnants. This morning, the last dribbles of milk fell out of my glass as Sam tried to put it on the counter.
I didn’t even think about wiping it up myself. I just handed Sam a paper towel and let him take after it. He did a very thorough job.
Now, if I could just get that enthusiasm to translate into putting toys back in the toy box…
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Getting down to business
One of Sam’s favorite phrases right now is “Get down.” At first it was hard to understand, because it doesn’t sound quite right, but as I’ve gotten used to it, I hear it more and more.
He says it when he’s ready to get out of bed in the morning or after a nap.
He says it when he’s ready to get out of his car seat.
And he especially says it when he thinks Daddy should get in the floor to play with the shape box, the blocks, a ball, a truck or whatever.
Last night he told me to get in the floor while I was talking on the phone. I didn’t do it fast enough so he kept repeating it. Finally when he couldn’t get my cooperation any other way, he said “Get down, PLEASE!” It was clear as a bell, and the first time he’s said “the magic word.”
I immediately got down with my son. After all, he said “the magic word.”
If only the air conditioning reached the floor with the same efficiency it reaches the furniture. Until then, I’ll be the one sweating on the floor with my son.
And I thought heat rises….
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Hangers are happenin’
I have a system for laundry that has worked well for me for more than 15 years now: I do it every other weekend. I have more than two weeks of options for every layer of clothing I wear, and I’ve made sure that Sam has the same.
This past weekend was laundry weekend. We did four loads. As I’ve mentioned before, Sam likes to help try to separate, load and fold the laundry at all the various stops it makes.
This weekend, however, Sam discovered the clothes hangers. Apparently, hangers are REALLY COOL for a toddler. Sam tried to wear several as a hat and ran around with them, tormenting the cats.
Before anyone freaks out, we have the plastic hangers with the very, very round ends.
Later, when I was preparing to hang up some pants and shirts, I got four hangers out of the closet and set them on my bed. Sam saw this and went running around the bed, screaming like a Native American warrior in absolute excitement at the sight of hangers. He climbed on to the bed all by himself in order to play with them.
Who knew clothes hangers had such power? I shall have to use this to my fatherly advantage.
“Are you bored, son? Go to the closet and get a hanger!”
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Memories and anniversaries
Today is my first anniversary with Sam. It was one year ago today that Elena, his foster mother, brought him to the Marriott in Guatemala City for my weekend visit. He stayed with me for two precious days, and then I cried all the way back to Waco as we set in to wait for the court to make us a real family.
Can that really have been a year ago? In some ways it seems much longer, as Sam is now so much a part of my life that I can hardly remember a time he wasn’t here. And in some ways it seems like only yesterday that he first climbed on top of me, patted my stomach and said “da-da.”
For most fathers, the day you meet your son for the first time is also his birthday. For Sam and me, there are several anniversary days throughout the year: July 28, Oct. 8 (the day his adoption passed), Nov. 10 (the day we were united forever), and Nov. 15 (the day he came to the U.S.). All of this, plus his regular birthday on Aug. 14.
In honor of this special day, Sam will have his least favorite lunch at daycare. It’s just a coincidence, because they have no idea that this is an important day for us. I noticed, though, on the menu today’s meal is salmon croquettes, which Sam refuses to eat. So I guess we’ll have to do something special in honor of the occasion tonight.
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Pink highlighter in hand, ready to mark
My father introduced Sam to the wonders of a pink highlighter last weekend. They used it to mark on paper and on balloons. Up until that point, I don’t think Sam knew it had a cap, that the cap came off, and that ink poured forth freely from the tip.
He certainly knows now.
Since last weekend, he’s marked up every paper he can find, several wooden blocks, and the top and bottom of the block tub, not to mention his face, his hands, his legs, his shirt, and anything else he can find.
Suffice to say enough things are pink in our house now that we probably are emitting pixie dust from the chimney.
As I tried to wipe off the ink last night from various parts of Sam’s skin, the baby wipe I was using turned completely pink. That was when I knew enough was enough.
I’m going to find the highlighter when I’m home for lunch today and dispose of it properly. Then I’m going to introduce Sam to those markers that only write on paper, or at least a crayon that won’t write on him.
Or at least a highlighter in a manly shade of blue. Sam’s middle name is Edgar, after all. At the very least he should look like a British Pict if he insists on painting himself a color.
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Cry, cry, cry
For some unknown reason, Sam’s mood changed to tears just as I was about to put supper on the table last night.
He was laughing and playing with his riding bulldozer while I was finishing up our meal of hot dogs, potatoes and fruit. I put food on both our plates and turned around to hand him his cup when he suddenly broke out into tears.
Nothing had fallen on him. I checked his hands and he hadn’t touched something hot and burned himself. He was still standing up, so he hadn’t fallen. We were eating foods he likes. He had a full cup of juice. And I wasn’t failing to pay attention to him.
In short, I was stumped.
I had to hold him all through dinner. Then, I thought he was settled enough for me to finish up some work on the computer I needed to do.
I was wrong. He cried for another hour, much of it in my lap.
Twenty minutes before bed, he suddenly reverted to laughing. He dropped off to sleep within about ten minutes of laying down.
He had no fever. His coming teeth were not breaking the surface of his gums. He ate well in my lap. I still have no idea what was wrong.
And he awoke happy this morning, lasting until I left him at daycare, when tears sprang forth again.
Go figure.
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The tower of babble
Like the people in the Old Testament story of Babel, my son is now very interested in building towers. His, however, have little hope of reaching the heavens.
I got out an old set of wooden blocks of various shapes over the weekend. They had been mine as a child, and on some of them I even wrote names of “businesses” and traffic signs as part of the imaginary cities I built.
Sam immediately became fascinated and wanted to build vertically.
He drags the tub the blocks are in (which still bears a price tag from Skaggs from the 1970s) to the middle of the living room floor and pats the ground softly saying, “Daddy, get down.” This means I’m supposed to get in the floor and help him build.
Then he pulls out one block at a time, very carefully, and hands each one to me. I’m supposed to build the tower.
After it gets tall enough for his taste, he knocks it down, babbling some phrase that means something in his imagination. I wish I knew what he was thinking as he destroys the tower and giggles.
Then we have to put the blocks back into the tub, one at a time, so he can repeat the process all over again.
Building is fun. It makes me long for simpler days, when all of my cares centered around whether my tower would stay standing and when was lunch.
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Watching ‘Mickey Mouse Clubhouse’ with Sam
In the world of little kids cartoons, I can stand Mickey Mouse. I can’t stand Barney.
And so I’ve begun changing the channel to the “Mickey Mouse Clubhouse” when I know Barney is about to come on PBS. Mickey, of course, plays on the Disney Channel.
We were watching an episode Sunday morning in which Goofy wants to use a time machine to go back to the days of knights. Instead he gets accidentally turned into a baby. The gang (which includes Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Daisy and Pluto) must learn to take care of “Goofy Baby” until the time machine can be fixed.
From this episode, I learned that the proper way to burp a baby is to pat him in a regular pattern of “top-top-bottom-bottom-middle-middle-middle.” Gee, I just thought patting anywhere on the back worked. This was valuable information.
What cracked me up about the whole episode was that they kept referring to him as “Goofy Baby” instead of “Baby Goofy.” “Goofy Baby” made me think of cool Hollywood types saying, “Hey, Goofy Baby! Let’s do lunch. Have your people call my people.”
At the end of the episode, a re-grown Goofy taught us how to do the “Hog Dog” dance because the problem was solved. It involved flapping your arms like a bird and kicking out your feet. Sam is trying to do it now whenever I sing the “Hot Dog” song that accompanied it.
Well, it might be “goofy,” but it still beats Barney!
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A warm bath, with the cat
Saturday night, Sam had an unexpected guest in the bathtub: Socks the kitten.
I think it all started because my parents were visiting. Because they wanted to spend as much time as possible with Sam, they gathered around the tub as I was giving him his bath.
Socks wanted to find out what was garnering all the attention, so she came into the bathroom to check it out. She’s been in a dry tub before, so not knowing anything different, she jumped up and in.
It took a couple of seconds for the feeling of moisture on her feet to reach her brain. Then a look of panic crossed her face and she jumped out and scurried off. Sam thought it was quite funny. We all did actually.
Fortunately, the hot water in that bathroom only runs at a trickle, so to get a baby-suitable temperature to the tub, you can’t run too much cold water either. The end result is that the tub never gets all that full. Socks was safe from the dangers of drowning.
And I doubt she’ll be visiting the tub again any time soon.
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Hi grandma. Where are the grapes?
My parents arrived from Oklahoma yesterday afternoon. They were in my house waiting for us when Sam and I returned home from a day of work and play.
Sam is always somewhat confused when they arrive. He hasn’t yet figured out that they are a permanent, albeit frequently absent, fixture in his life. But this time he warmed up pretty quickly to the idea of them being here.
Within half an hour or so, he began asking my mother for grapes. He doesn’t know the word “grapes,” but he does know he can get his grandma to pick him up, then point to the kitchen and whine, and she will soon deliver the purple fruit he enjoys.
My parents eat grapes by the bucket load. I don’t, so I don’t really think about buying them when we’re at the store. So this is a special treat Sam enjoys when his grandparents visit. And apparently, he’s come to expect it.
He returned from the kitchen proudly holding his bowl of grapes. He handed the to me so he could climb onto the couch, and then ate them happily while snuggling close to me.
Something tells me he’ll learn the word “grape” before the word “grandma.” Want to take bets on whether he’ll start calling her “grape”?
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What a difference 20 minutes make
Sam woke up extra early this morning, before 5:30. We got up and watched television for a while before resuming our regular routine.
Even so, I had him dressed and ready for the day by 7. We can’t leave the house till 7:23, or else we beat the daycare workers to the building.
Of course, as soon as Sam was dressed, he wanted to put on his shoes. As soon as his shoes were on, he thought it was time to go. He kept saying “Go,” and pointing to the door, until he finally started crying because we weren’t leaving.
I got him settled down and sitting next to me on the couch until time to leave. He raced to the back door when I told him it was time to go.
But once we got to daycare, he wanted me to hold him and cried about me leaving. He hasn’t done that since he moved to his new classroom in early June. And considering how ready he was to go, I was pretty surprised.
Maybe he just wanted to play with those toys and me, but really, I’m a little stumped by the change of heart.
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Laughing in the rain
My mother’s birthday was yesterday, but they are visiting this weekend. In an unrelated event, a personal friend suffered the death of her husband over the weekend. I found out about it yesterday.
The end result was that I needed to make a run to the store last night for greeting cards, both sympathy and birthday. Sam does better if we go home and eat after work before running errands, so I waited until after supper.
Of course, by then it was raining — not hard, but a slow steady rain. Remembering Sam’s dread of the splash park a few weeks ago, I was afraid of his reaction to getting out in the rain.
As he got to the bottom of the back steps and felt his first raindrop, Sam said “Ooooo.” We got into the car and drove to the drug store. When I got him out of the car and he felt more rain he started laughing. Giggling with glee, in fact.
He giggled again when we left the store to get back into the car. The same kid who didn’t want to get wet at the splash park.
I was holding him the whole time, so that probably helped. Also the rain wasn’t nearly as fierce as the splash park spray. But beyond that, I’m clueless at the reaction.
Perhaps Waco needs to give up spray parks and invest in a cloud seeder!
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My little monkey climber
Sam is a climber. I think he’d be thrilled to live in a tree and climb all day long.
Last week, I caught him climbing the back of a dining room chair just as it began tipping backwards. The disaster was averted, narrowly. If the cat had not been sitting in the chair acting as a counterweight, my efforts would have come too late.
Yesterday, Sam’s class was playing on the playground when I arrived to pick him up after work. Sam was coming down the slide as I approached, and he noticed me almost immediately. A big smile swept across his face and he came running toward the fence to meet me. Apparently I wasn’t moving fast enough, because he began climbing the fence. By the time I got there, he was nearly to the top and his teacher’s had just noticed what he was doing. I picked him up off the fence and raised him over to my side.
It scared me a little, but his climbing was excellent. His feet never faltered.
I fear that in the near future rock climbing walls are going to attract his fancy and we’ll have to take up that sport. It’s not something I ever longed to do. Nor do I want to go on mountain hikes.
But somehow I fear my little climber is going to want to do it all.
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Daddy’s little helper, sort of
Sam spent a full weekend of trying to be my little helper. Unfortunately, he doesn’t fully grasp many of the tasks I’m doing. Here are some examples:
I took all of the laundry into the utility room and began sorting it for the four loads we were going to need to do. Sam’s clothes go in one pile, towels and sheets in another, dark clothes in a third and lights in the last. Sam kept pulling clothes out of the basket and trying to put them in piles, but he didn’t understand the sorting method.
After the laundry was done, I was folding it on my bed. Sam climbed onto the bed and tried to help. He actually did a decent job sorting this time, into piles of shirts, socks, and underwear. But periodically, he just couldn’t resist jumping head first into a pile of folded clothes.
Finally when we got to putting things on hangers, Sam found his niche. He sat with the pile of hangers and handed me one as I got each pair of pants or shirt ready.
This morning, Sam’s cup of milk leaked onto the floor. Being the little helper he is, Sam tried to wipe it up by sitting in the puddle and scooting his bottom around in it while I went to the kitchen for paper towels. Once I came back, he took the towels from me and did a pretty good job of wiping the rest of the mess up, although I really wonder what his pajama bottoms are going to smell like when we get ready for bed tonight!
All in all, it’s nice to have a helping hand. It will just be even nicer when his helping mind catches up to his hands.
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Chaos theory and kids
One day this week, one of the clues on the crossword puzzle was “Chaos theory unit.” “Children” didn’t fit. It should have.
Since Sam’s arrival, my living room regularly looks like it’s been hit by a tornado. There are toys everywhere. The only way I can clean them up is to wait until Sam’s asleep (which frequently is moments before I also fall asleep) or during my lunch hour. If I try to pick up toys while Sam is awake and present, he follows behind me dumping them back on the floor.
Some of his favorite toys are small plastic balls. We have a basket (actually his Easter basket) that I keep them in, when I can pick them up. Sam’s method of getting them out: Dump the entire contents of the basket on the floor.
The arrival of Socks the kitten has only added to our family chaos. She jumps on chairs, turning them sideways or pushing them out from the table. And she likes to play with the newspaper.
It also amazes me that Sam’s favorite way to appreciate a toy is disassembled. He takes the legs off his activity table. He takes the ramps off his Sesame Street garage.
This morning he had the most fun taking the hole cups off his toy golf bag, having me reattach them and then taking them off again. He would actually bring me the bag and then hand me the cups one at a time, pointing to where they fit on the bag. Once they were reattached, he took the bag, sat down a few feet away from me, and took the cups off again.
I’m not complaining. I’m used to the mess at this point, although I wouldn’t want to entertain guests. I’m just amazed at how much one child can do.
The actual unit of measurement in the Chaos theory is a “fractal.” Count Sam and Socks as my personal fractals.
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... read the full comment by find best on-line savings accounts | Comment on My little monkey climber Read My little monkey climber
Nathan & Sam, I’ll miss your weekday anecdotes. I hope you continue to journal Sam’s life and progress-you’ll treasure the information later. Good luck with you new teaching position. As an educator myself, I can attest to the
... read the full comment by Missy | Comment on Hail and farewell Read Hail and farewell
Nathan, I also wish you the best. I sense that you are meant to teach. This is really a good stopping point, anyway, because you have given us time to see you go through the adoption process and we also have seen the fruit of it.
What will you
... read the full comment by regina | Comment on Hail and farewell Read Hail and farewell
Nathan, Congratulations! I have been a single parent for eleven years, and I am a high school teacher. I treasure the summers with my kids.
You will now have summers with Sam and also be able to provide influence to your students.
Please
... read the full comment by Michelle | Comment on Hail and farewell Read Hail and farewell