Cortlan has always called it a penis. Among other reasons, we didn't want any embarrassing situations like when I asked my elementary school friend why her parents would ever name her brother "Peter." It is what it is, and it is a penis.
So why is it so difficult to decide what to call Everly's stuff? I don't know. So, we haven't called it anything. Ever.
But when Cort needed to identify it for some crazy four-year-old reason (actually, I think he was three at the time), he called it a snout.
Yes.
A snout.
John and I had NOTHING to do with this.
As responsible parents do, we changed the subject, did not really acknowledge the term in one way or another, and let it drop.
That was months ago.
This was today, a lovely conversation in so many ways:
Cortlan: Mommy, do cows drink milk?
Me: Well...yes. Baby cows drink milk from their mommies.
Cortlan: Do they drink from daddy cows?
Me: No, only mommy cows.
Cortlan: Why? Because only mommies have those thingies? (pointing to his belly, gesturing)
Me: Yes.
Cortlan: Like you only have boobies and daddy doesn't? (pointing again but up a little higher)
Me: Yes, like that.
Cortlan: Cows are like people!
Me: Well, yes! You're right, cows are like people in that way.
and then, Me (thinking that we can have a nice educational moment about similarities and differences): How are cows different than people?
Cortlan: Well, maybe how they go potty. (Pause) Do cows have penises and snouts?
Lord, help me.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Two great books
Earlier this year, I decided that if I budget my time a tad bit differently, I might actually be able to read a book or two during the school year. (I always fit several into the summer months.) Snow days, like the one we just had on Tuesday, are helping me considerably with this resolution. (Seriously, there is nothing quite like getting 8+ hours of bonus time in your life - time that you thought would be spent elsewhere on obligations of the paying sort.)
On the other snow day we had this year, I was in the midst of reading an amazing novel, The Help, which gave me a glimpse into southern life in the sixties, from the perspective of, well, the help...and a brave white woman. With my bonus hours on that day, I was able to cozy up in some blankets and dive into a novel that forced me to take a fresh look at some history that I knew, but didn't really want to know. Or maybe better put: that I just wish wasn't true.
The Help was enthralling and affected me, if in no other way than by reminding me how far women have come, regardless of race, in the last half-century and how fortunate we are to be living in an age of relative tolerance, one in which we are able to teach our children to treat everyone with respect as humans without fearing for our own lives by doing so. Yet, it also made me question why that there is still so much hate and prejudice towards the various subsets of our culture, while simultaneously giving me hope that fifty years from now people will be just as astonished at some of the things we currently accept as I was at the concept of building an outhouse in the garage for the help.
Interestingly, with yesterday's snow day, I was also in the midst of a book. This time: The Glass Castle, a memoir by Jeannette Walls, who is now a regular contributor to MSNBC. This is a book that I will never, ever, forget. I was completely captivated from the first pages and I read most of it with my jaw dropped. I finished it yesterday, on our snow day, and I am still reeling from some of the stories Walls told about her life while growing up. I am not writing this with the intent to review the book. Rather, because it affected me so profoundly, I simply feel the need to comment.
First of all, I find it amazing the things that people can endure and that they can still emerge with positive attitudes. Ms. Walls never really seemed angry about her situation, and somehow presented her story in a way that both showed her love and respect for her parents while clearly illustrating their flaws. Her story completely appalled me at times. My first response was that she was abused and neglected and starved, and in many ways, she was. But her story also demonstrated to me that giving your children confidence and love can be more important, at times, than even shelter and food. While reading some online discussions after finishing the book, I came across an interesting perspective: someone commented that overindulgence can be seen as a form of child abuse, too. Thought-provoking. There was also a comment that people are generally much stronger than they think they are. I agree.
Secondly, I need to acknowledge that I AM SO FORTUNATE. I am so fortunate to have grown up in the United States in a working middle class family with two parents, neither of which an alcoholic, neither of which selfish beyond reproach; to live in a house with more than two tiny rooms, with heat, running water, and food on the table; to be able to sleep without water dripping on me, to be able to sleep in a bed. I am so fortunate to have had a childhood with stability, and so fortunate to know the feelings of safety and security.
Sometimes, little challenges in life get distorted and little things get taken for granted and it takes a story like this to bring things back into perspective.
The struggles of the people of this world and those right in our backyards are some that most will never understand. The stories of the power of the human spirit are amazing and inspiring.
On the other snow day we had this year, I was in the midst of reading an amazing novel, The Help, which gave me a glimpse into southern life in the sixties, from the perspective of, well, the help...and a brave white woman. With my bonus hours on that day, I was able to cozy up in some blankets and dive into a novel that forced me to take a fresh look at some history that I knew, but didn't really want to know. Or maybe better put: that I just wish wasn't true.
The Help was enthralling and affected me, if in no other way than by reminding me how far women have come, regardless of race, in the last half-century and how fortunate we are to be living in an age of relative tolerance, one in which we are able to teach our children to treat everyone with respect as humans without fearing for our own lives by doing so. Yet, it also made me question why that there is still so much hate and prejudice towards the various subsets of our culture, while simultaneously giving me hope that fifty years from now people will be just as astonished at some of the things we currently accept as I was at the concept of building an outhouse in the garage for the help.
Interestingly, with yesterday's snow day, I was also in the midst of a book. This time: The Glass Castle, a memoir by Jeannette Walls, who is now a regular contributor to MSNBC. This is a book that I will never, ever, forget. I was completely captivated from the first pages and I read most of it with my jaw dropped. I finished it yesterday, on our snow day, and I am still reeling from some of the stories Walls told about her life while growing up. I am not writing this with the intent to review the book. Rather, because it affected me so profoundly, I simply feel the need to comment.
First of all, I find it amazing the things that people can endure and that they can still emerge with positive attitudes. Ms. Walls never really seemed angry about her situation, and somehow presented her story in a way that both showed her love and respect for her parents while clearly illustrating their flaws. Her story completely appalled me at times. My first response was that she was abused and neglected and starved, and in many ways, she was. But her story also demonstrated to me that giving your children confidence and love can be more important, at times, than even shelter and food. While reading some online discussions after finishing the book, I came across an interesting perspective: someone commented that overindulgence can be seen as a form of child abuse, too. Thought-provoking. There was also a comment that people are generally much stronger than they think they are. I agree.
Secondly, I need to acknowledge that I AM SO FORTUNATE. I am so fortunate to have grown up in the United States in a working middle class family with two parents, neither of which an alcoholic, neither of which selfish beyond reproach; to live in a house with more than two tiny rooms, with heat, running water, and food on the table; to be able to sleep without water dripping on me, to be able to sleep in a bed. I am so fortunate to have had a childhood with stability, and so fortunate to know the feelings of safety and security.
Sometimes, little challenges in life get distorted and little things get taken for granted and it takes a story like this to bring things back into perspective.
The struggles of the people of this world and those right in our backyards are some that most will never understand. The stories of the power of the human spirit are amazing and inspiring.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Happy Anniversary to me!
Know what's weird? Day by day nothing seems to change. But pretty soon everything's different.
~Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes
It is hard for me to believe, but one year ago today, I wrote my first post. And 103 posts later, I can't agree more with Calvin.
This has been a revolutionary year for me: one of reflection and realization and much appreciated moments. One of growth.
And to a large extent, change.
In many day-by-day kinds of ways, things haven't changed much. But when I look back at earlier posts and see my children one year ago, hear their voices, and recall those moments, I see that things are most definitely different. Time changes most things...especially children. They are growing so quickly.
When I read that first post again and think about myself, I realize I have grown, too. In that first post, I was trying to make sense of a feeling, a need to be better in a bigger sense of the word...and I do think that I have made progress towards becoming a better life-liver, life-appreciator, life-lover. I have not changed the world, but I have come to realize my place in it a little better. Writing this blog has helped me keep a certain focus. It has forced me to look at things from a different angle. It has been therapeutic. It has been a place to record memories and a place to share.
Also, writing and thinking as I have for the last year has forced me to realize that, most of the time, life is not extraordinary. But sometimes it is. Sometimes it deals you a rough hand. Sometimes it lifts you up, and sometimes it throws you down. But here it is. It is the highs and the lows, the trials, tribulations, and triumphs. It is in this moment, and this place. It is around you and in you. This......This is life.
On this one year anniversary, I want to give a shout out to anyone who has ever read this blog, to the few that have followed it or have subscribed, and especially to the people that have taken moments out of their days to send me comments in one way or another about it. Thanks for being part of this life of mine and for helping me to think differently. Thank you for letting me be a part of yours.
It is by no means perfect, but my life did change for the better a year ago today, even if only in small and internal ways. And I am going to keep at it. And I am going to keep loving it...one extraordinary moment at a time.
~Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes
It is hard for me to believe, but one year ago today, I wrote my first post. And 103 posts later, I can't agree more with Calvin.
This has been a revolutionary year for me: one of reflection and realization and much appreciated moments. One of growth.
And to a large extent, change.
In many day-by-day kinds of ways, things haven't changed much. But when I look back at earlier posts and see my children one year ago, hear their voices, and recall those moments, I see that things are most definitely different. Time changes most things...especially children. They are growing so quickly.
When I read that first post again and think about myself, I realize I have grown, too. In that first post, I was trying to make sense of a feeling, a need to be better in a bigger sense of the word...and I do think that I have made progress towards becoming a better life-liver, life-appreciator, life-lover. I have not changed the world, but I have come to realize my place in it a little better. Writing this blog has helped me keep a certain focus. It has forced me to look at things from a different angle. It has been therapeutic. It has been a place to record memories and a place to share.
Also, writing and thinking as I have for the last year has forced me to realize that, most of the time, life is not extraordinary. But sometimes it is. Sometimes it deals you a rough hand. Sometimes it lifts you up, and sometimes it throws you down. But here it is. It is the highs and the lows, the trials, tribulations, and triumphs. It is in this moment, and this place. It is around you and in you. This......This is life.
On this one year anniversary, I want to give a shout out to anyone who has ever read this blog, to the few that have followed it or have subscribed, and especially to the people that have taken moments out of their days to send me comments in one way or another about it. Thanks for being part of this life of mine and for helping me to think differently. Thank you for letting me be a part of yours.
It is by no means perfect, but my life did change for the better a year ago today, even if only in small and internal ways. And I am going to keep at it. And I am going to keep loving it...one extraordinary moment at a time.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The Dentist Appointment
Maybe it is just a coincidence that the week that Cort has a dentist appointment is the same week that he takes a llama for show and share (the letter of the week is L). But this was always one of my favorite Sesame Street clips.
We got to the dentist and Cortlan was already talking about what color toothbrush he was going to pick. When it was our turn to head back, he happily climbed into the chair, donned the sweet sunglasses (though he did mention that he liked the flip-up ones that he had last time a little better), and followed every instruction he was given. They used the electric tooth brush with blue raspberry tooth paste; they used the water sprayer and suction device; they even scraped a bit of plaque off from behind his teeth and painted on fluoride. No problem. He was lavished with compliments and got to pick a tattoo and two stickers when he was done. Cool.
But here was the slightly-surprising-but-not-really part: the whole time, Everly was jumping at the chance to climb up on the chair to have her turn, too. She soooo badly wanted them to stick things in her mouth and check her teeth and paint on fluoride. And of course, she wanted to wear the sunglasses.
She didn't have an appointment scheduled, so it came much to my surprise when the hygienist said, "Let me check my schedule and get you some papers to fill out. We might be able to do this." Well, ok! Everly excitedly said, "My turn!!" as she climbed up on the chair.
And quietly, patiently, trustingly, she let them do anything they wanted...with full cooperation. Just like her big brother.
And just like her brother, she got a tattoo and two stickers. And she was proud. And so was I...of both of them.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Ahhh, Genetics.
Welp, it took a while to get the appointment, but last Thursday was Cort's annual birthday visit to the pediatrician. I might actually say birthday present visit, since my children enjoy going to the doctor so much. (Seriously, they do. Not sure what that is saying that going to the ped's office is a definite highlight for them, but Cortlan also truly looks forward to going to the dentist.) The visit went well. Here is what we found out:
1. That our little guy is a little guy. Not that it is all about numbers, but he is staying right on that growth trendline that he has always been on: 25th percentile in height and 10th percentile in weight.
2. He has great hearing, speaks well for his age, and can touch his nose and then the doctor's finger, then his nose, then the finger, then the nose, then the finger quite well.
3. He might have a "color vision deficiency" (i.e. there is a chance that he is color blind). We have to get additional testing to be sure, but I have actually been suspicious of this for a while. Having a dad who is color blind, I have grown up aware of the sometimes subtle difficulties that arise from such a deficiency. Having some knowledge of genetics, I also know that I am a carrier of the gene and that Cort has a 50/50 chance of inheriting it. The simple test that the doctor gave (identifying a black, green, and red stripe on the eye chart) did not go quite as well as hoped (his response: black, black, orange). Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe he was tired of answering all of the questions after a long exam. Maybe I gave him a bum x-chromosome. In any case, no big deal, but off to the opthamologist we will go just to double check. Even though there isn't really anything that can be done about it, we can at least be aware and make his teachers aware.
4. The doctor did a good job. This I know because she earned a sticker. From Cortlan. He brought one for her and gave it to her at the end of the exam.
Next up: The dentist. We are all pumped!! ;)
1. That our little guy is a little guy. Not that it is all about numbers, but he is staying right on that growth trendline that he has always been on: 25th percentile in height and 10th percentile in weight.
2. He has great hearing, speaks well for his age, and can touch his nose and then the doctor's finger, then his nose, then the finger, then the nose, then the finger quite well.
3. He might have a "color vision deficiency" (i.e. there is a chance that he is color blind). We have to get additional testing to be sure, but I have actually been suspicious of this for a while. Having a dad who is color blind, I have grown up aware of the sometimes subtle difficulties that arise from such a deficiency. Having some knowledge of genetics, I also know that I am a carrier of the gene and that Cort has a 50/50 chance of inheriting it. The simple test that the doctor gave (identifying a black, green, and red stripe on the eye chart) did not go quite as well as hoped (his response: black, black, orange). Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe he was tired of answering all of the questions after a long exam. Maybe I gave him a bum x-chromosome. In any case, no big deal, but off to the opthamologist we will go just to double check. Even though there isn't really anything that can be done about it, we can at least be aware and make his teachers aware.
4. The doctor did a good job. This I know because she earned a sticker. From Cortlan. He brought one for her and gave it to her at the end of the exam.
Next up: The dentist. We are all pumped!! ;)
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Somewhat Silent Sunday
No, this really hasn't been a quiet Sunday at all. But I've read some blogs that have done a "Wordless Wednesday" post, and I love the concept. However, today isn't Wednesday, nor is this entry entirely wordless. Hence, the title.
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Nothing a Boo Boo Buddy and a little humor can't fix
I realize that it isn't very nice to laugh at other people's expense. I really, really do. And it is probably even worse to laugh at your kid's expense. Truly, I am not a person who takes pleasure in other people's pain. But sometimes, it just happens...like that time when Cortlan was traumatized at the thought of having a time out. And like yesterday:
We were playing on the sun porch, and it was freezing out there, so we had the portable heater on, which only increased the temperature marginally. We were spread out on the floor, playing with trains, when Cortlan quickly jumped up, proclaimed that he had to go potty, and then promptly ran full speed into the closed sliding glass door, bouncing back to the floor.
Poor kid.
It all happened in an instant. John and I looked at each other, and really tried hard to not laugh. But it kind of slipped out a little. Cortlan didn't notice, I don't think. But in our family, the best way for us to handle situations such as these is to not go overboard. If we don't make a big deal of it, they don't make a big deal of it. Moreover, we are trying to teach our kids to find the humor in life. So, what did we do to help Cortlan stop crying?
Well, first we got him his "boo-boo buddy" from the freezer to put on his head to reduce the swelling.
Then we told him about the time I ran into the screen door, knocking the whole thing down and bending the frame. (Yes, I did.)
Then we showed him a Super Bowl commercial.
He laughed. We laughed. All is well.
Though, writing this just reminded me that I should probably wipe the face print from the door.
We were playing on the sun porch, and it was freezing out there, so we had the portable heater on, which only increased the temperature marginally. We were spread out on the floor, playing with trains, when Cortlan quickly jumped up, proclaimed that he had to go potty, and then promptly ran full speed into the closed sliding glass door, bouncing back to the floor.
Poor kid.
It all happened in an instant. John and I looked at each other, and really tried hard to not laugh. But it kind of slipped out a little. Cortlan didn't notice, I don't think. But in our family, the best way for us to handle situations such as these is to not go overboard. If we don't make a big deal of it, they don't make a big deal of it. Moreover, we are trying to teach our kids to find the humor in life. So, what did we do to help Cortlan stop crying?
Well, first we got him his "boo-boo buddy" from the freezer to put on his head to reduce the swelling.
Then we told him about the time I ran into the screen door, knocking the whole thing down and bending the frame. (Yes, I did.)
Then we showed him a Super Bowl commercial.
He laughed. We laughed. All is well.
Though, writing this just reminded me that I should probably wipe the face print from the door.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
This post could probably be better
Have you ever thought about how some of your best traits can sometimes simultaneously be your worst?
Case in point: I have long (forever?) lived with some ingrained, possibly genetically programed trait that leads my behavior like some guy constantly whispering from every shadow, "Hey - you can do better. You can always do better."
I live with the knowledge that there is always room for improvement. Which is a nice idea and all, and probably got me to where I am in life. But dammit, sometimes I just want that guy to shut up.
Because sometimes, I just want to stop looking for ways to improve, and ride it out for a while. But that guy is always making me feel like a slacker. And I hate being a slacker.
There is always room for improvement...I think about it in every lesson I write and teach at school, as a wife, as a mom, as a person who attempts to eat well and live a healthy lifestyle. Even as a blogger. It exhausts me. It keeps me moving forward, I suppose, but sometimes I just want to be able to be ok with "good enough." I have a really hard time with that, I think. (Any psychologists out there?)
So, as I read on a friend of mine's blog (ahem) that basically blogs suck if they don't have pictures in them (ok, maybe she didn't quite put it that way, and I might mention that she is a professional photographer and I really do love and envy her), I have added a picture to not one, not two, but three past blog posts. And I might try to do better in the future on the picture front.
But sometimes, the words are just going to have to be good enough. :)
Case in point: I have long (forever?) lived with some ingrained, possibly genetically programed trait that leads my behavior like some guy constantly whispering from every shadow, "Hey - you can do better. You can always do better."
 |
| I could have probably found a better picture. But at least there is one. |
I live with the knowledge that there is always room for improvement. Which is a nice idea and all, and probably got me to where I am in life. But dammit, sometimes I just want that guy to shut up.
Because sometimes, I just want to stop looking for ways to improve, and ride it out for a while. But that guy is always making me feel like a slacker. And I hate being a slacker.
There is always room for improvement...I think about it in every lesson I write and teach at school, as a wife, as a mom, as a person who attempts to eat well and live a healthy lifestyle. Even as a blogger. It exhausts me. It keeps me moving forward, I suppose, but sometimes I just want to be able to be ok with "good enough." I have a really hard time with that, I think. (Any psychologists out there?)
So, as I read on a friend of mine's blog (ahem) that basically blogs suck if they don't have pictures in them (ok, maybe she didn't quite put it that way, and I might mention that she is a professional photographer and I really do love and envy her), I have added a picture to not one, not two, but three past blog posts. And I might try to do better in the future on the picture front.
But sometimes, the words are just going to have to be good enough. :)
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