Bye Bye, 2012

I need to be showered, dressed and preparing more food for our little New Year's celebration with the Reinkes in 31 minutes, so here's a quickie post, mostly because I'm embarrassed and disappointed in myself that I haven't posted anything since 12/19 but also because I feel that I should give an official good-bye to 2012 and hello to 2013.

I did a quick jot of some New Year's Resolutions (aka Goals) for 2013 and thought I'd share them.  My goal before I shower, dress and start to prepare food was to have 10 -- I may add some but I will not take any of these away.  Here they are:

1. Introduce monthly goals back into life.  I will start January as no-pop month.
2. Make 100 blog entries for the year.
3. Read 6 books.
4. Run the ½ Marathon in Naperville… whenever it is.
5. Run at least 9 miles per week.
6. Work out at least 4 times per week.
7. Sign Cal up for swimming lessons.
8. Wrap for-sure-not-to-be-returned Christmas presents as they are bought (within 2 days of buying them).
9. Put up more Christmas lights next year – currently thinking on bedroom windows, on all bushes in the front of our house and draped across entertainment center and at landing
10. Sign up for and attend full set of yoga classes. (Note: class would count as a workout day.)

Good-bye 2012 -- you were pretty good to me overall.  And I look forward to you, 2013 -- I think you'll be better!

Happy, Healthy New Year, everyone!

Robin Junior Leatherman

Robin Junior Leatherman joined our family on December 1, 2012.  Only a foot tall and weighing less than a pound, Robin’s presence and travels are recognized daily by all in the Leatherman household.  He has striking blue eyes, a perky nose, rosy cheeks and a permanent grin that can be infectious.  He is always wearing a red suit with a matching red hat and has been found sitting on shelves and window sills, hanging on light fixtures, perching on a wreath or a tree and sitting on a reindeer, train bank or easel… whimsically operating without a plan.

Robin in candle

Wherever Robin starts the day, he finishes it, quietly watching and listening in between.  He has x-ray vision and is capable of seeing us wherever we are, even when we’re not at home.  He never speaks, and we never touch him.  These are the rules, which, to my surprise, are respected by everyone.  When the kids are sleeping at night, Robin travels back to the North Pole (how he does this we can only explain as magic) to give Santa a report on Cal and Ella Leatherman.  I don’t know how this exchange goes; but I like to think that a long report is a clear sign of a good day, and a brief report is an implied rough day.  There’s no need to burden Santa with the details of the bad stuff.

Robin’s arrival came at a good time.  We were coming off of several weeks (exact duration unknown) of unprecedented stubbornness, disrespect and uncooperativeness out of our first born.  Every request we made seemed to be met with a “no” or “my hands are broken” or “I don’t know how.”  It wasn’t uncommon for Dan and me to field “I don’t like you” comments, even when it was unwarranted (not that I think this is ever warranted; but he would even say it in response to a non-controversial question like “what socks do you want to wear, Cal?”  Response: “I don’t like you, Mommy.”) Our morning routine of getting dressed, putting shoes and coats on and heading to the car was typically ending with shouts and tears out of everyone, about which Cal would forget by the end of the day but from which Dan and I may still not be fully recovered.

Cal is fully aware of Robin’s purpose.  We drilled it into his head when we slowly read him the story of the Elf on the Shelf and first introduced him to Robin.  We ensured his full attention was on me and every word of the story I read, and he didn’t skip a beat when we ended the story by asking him what he’d like to name our elf – “Robin Junior Leatherman!” Cal exclaimed.

Robin and Moose

Robin?  Where’d this come from?  Red Elfie, maybe.  Cal has a tendency to name his animals what they are -- there’s Monkey, Skinny Monkey, Moose, Big Teddy, Teddy Bay-yeh, Teddy Sox, B (short for Bear)… to name a few.  We didn’t question it and immediately referred to our elf as Robin (or “Dobbin” if it’s Ella doing the referring).

Since Robin’s arrival, Cal’s behavior does seem to have improved.  When he misbehaves or has an unwelcome sharp tongue, we immediately pull Robin into the situation for help – that exchange might go something like this:

Cal: <jumping on the couch>

Dan: “Cal, please stop jumping on the couch.”

Cal: <continues jumping>

Dan: “Robin, Cal’s jumping on the couch even though we asked him not to.”

Cal: “No! Don’t tell Robin.”

Dan: “We don’t have to tell him – he can see and hear you on his own.”

Sometimes there’s a bit more of a struggle to get him to stop from there; but oftentimes, there’s not and the misbehavior stops immediately upon pulling Robin in to the fight.  Regardless, I find it promising that there’s at least some recognition of wrongness in the scenario.  Clearly Cal understands he’s in the wrong – why else would he not want us to tell Robin?

To be honest, I expected Robin to have a bigger impact than he has.  Maybe it wasn’t that I expected it so much has hoped he’d make all of our mind-boggling struggles with our fiery 4-year-old completely disappear, at least through the holidays.  I’ve come to terms with the fact that that’s not going to happen.  It was really an unrealistic dream.  I do feel like Robin is another tool for us, though, another incentive to get Cal to cooperate, listen and just be nice.  Like the threat of timeouts or having toys taken away, the possibility that Robin might relay misbehaviors to Santa is typically enough to turn Cal around for the better.  When he cooperates, Cal will ask us to tell Robin, as in “tell Robin I washed my hands before dinner when you asked me to").  We usually oblige that request and then follow it up with “you know, we don’t have to tell Robin this because he already knows you did because he can see and hear you.”

Robin in my stocking

Finally, Robin is a daily diversion we’ve come to count on.  Every morning, whether in the middle of a clothing war with Cal or trying to get Ella to de-focus on her “binkie” or actually functioning struggle-free, we ask the question, “Where’s Robin? Let’s go find Robin!”  And this is always met with a happy march around the house to find Robin perched somewhere, Ella uttering the same phrases, “Dobbin?” and “No fall” and “Nice.”

Robin’s going to be around for only five more days, and then he’ll be heading back to the North Pole until December, 2013 comes around.  Thinking about this actually makes me sad.  I’m going to miss his daily movement and our daily interactions with him. I think the kids will, too; and I just hope his stay with us in 2012 has a lasting effect on Cal well into 2013.

Robin and Santa

My Chapstick

I don’t know what it is about lip balm that my kids are so drawn to.  My guess is it’s an inclination to mimic – they see me using it and want to use it just like I do.  I wouldn’t mind this so much except they don't use it just like I do. I’d say of the 10 or so lip balms I have somewhere in my possession, half of them are bumpy, nicked up either by the kids’ teeth or their poor cap re-application and then smoothed a bit after a couple of uses by me.

To be fair, Cal used to have some poor lip balm skills but has made huge strides over the last six months or so – he manages to apply it to his lips now and usually misses his teeth in the process.  Probably the worst thing Cal does anymore is apply the lip balm to wet lips.  Ella on the other hand, is completely unskilled, hitting every bit of and in the mouth area, and a little misguided about the general purpose of lip balm.

Imagine this scene this past Sunday:  Ella, fighting a cold for a few days, had wet boogers streaming from her nose.  She headed for the nightstand next to my bed, I assume to grab a tissue to wipe her nose.  Instead of a tissue she excitedly grabbed the Chapstick I had mistakenly left out instead of putting in the drawer, safe from the abusers of it.  Nuts! Ella looked at me and smiled ear-to-ear.

A stand-off followed.  We both stood in one place, staring into each other’s eyes, both wanting that Chapstick for different reasons.  I was waiting for the right moment to make the move to take her by surprise; and she was waiting for me to make that move, ready to dart as soon as I made it. Not in the mood for a chase, I opted to use my words first.  “Ella, give me the Chapstick,” I insisted.  She only smiled a cocky smile in response.  “Ella, give me the Chapstick, please,” I said, as if adding a “please” would help the situation.  Again, she only smiled.

Before I had a chance to change my approach and just tackle her (gently), Ella had pulled the cap off of the Chapstick.  Oh, no.  For whatever reason, I was frozen in my tracks as I watched and hoped my Chapstick would not be abused.  Still smiling, she stared at me and raised the Chapstick up to her face.  “No!” I exclaimed, knowing now exactly what was about to happen.  And she did it – she drew the Chapstick to her face, directed it to the section between her nose and mouth and (gulp!) smeared my Chapstick on top of the stream of mucus that had settled in that area.  Ew! Better stated, she smeared her mucus all over my Chapstick.

The damage done, I managed to wrestle the Chapstick and cap from her death-like grip.  A frugal person to my core, I couldn’t throw it away; so I placed it in the drawer of my nightstand.  Perhaps I’d forget about the layer of mucus sitting at the top of the stick of balm and get some good use out of it.

Needless to say, I did not forget about what had happened to my Chapstick.  I needed some lip balm last night, reached for that same Chapstick in my drawer and remembered vividly Ella’s grody mishandling of it.  I pulled the cap off and slowly drew it to my lips, cringing as I did so.  And with a quick, just-get-it-over-with swipe, I applied it to my lips.  I figure the first application after the dirty deed is the worst – all others should be clear of Ella’s mucus from here on out.

Happy Birthday, Choo Choo Johnny's Style



We went to Choo Choo Johnny's tonight to celebrate Cal's 4th birthday. Choo Choo Johnny's is a train-themed restaurant about 10 minutes from our house. At Choo Choo Johnny's, they serve excellent food (I tell people that Dan and I will likely go there for lunch and/or dinner even after the kids have outgrown it), offer a simple selection of ice cream and provide entertainment via its various trains. There's an electric train set up at the front of the restaurant with two giant red buttons for kids to push to trigger the running of the train. Another train constantly circles the restaurant on elevated tracks near the ceiling. A larger, kid-sized train engine sits parallel to a wall near a couple of other video games, begging for kids to go for a ride on it -- for 50 cents, the engine will light up and gently rock back and forth for a minute or so. Or for 0 cents, the engine just sits there; and kids enjoy it almost as much. Perhaps the best train is the one that delivers your food to your seat. A set of train tracks line the oval counters outlined by fixed, low bar stools. When your order is ready, the conductor waitress pushes a train horn; and soon a train with cars carrying your food in plastic baskets is on its way to your seats.



 

Cal loves Choo Choo Johnny's. We're on their emailing list for specials and birthday coupons, of which we take full advantage. So it came as no surprise that he wanted to go to Choo Choo Johnny's for his birthday. I think that when he originally mentioned it, he had visions of a big birthday bash on his mind; however, he was perfectly content celebrating with just the four of us.

 

Choo Choo Johnny's does a little something extra for birthday boys and girls. Birthday boys and girls are entitled to a scoop of ice cream, choosing from the traditional flavors of vanilla, chocolate and strawberry as well as some fancier ones, such as cookies 'n cream, chocoloate chip cookie dough or my favorite (and what used to be Cal's go-to) "Superman" (which I think tastes like cake batter). The scoop is delivered to the birthday child via the train. A lit candle is placed in the center of the scoop, and the conductor waitress walks alongside the train as it encircles the counter, her hands cupped around the flame of the candle to prevent it from blowing out. Once the train arrives in front of the birthday child, the conductor waitress announces that it's So-and-So's birthday and she and the other conductor waitress break into the Choo Choo Johnny's birthday song, clapping as they sing it.

 

Anyone who's read my many Facebook posts with quotes or "doings" of Cal or read any of my earlier blog posts must figure that Cal is a ham and no stranger to attention from his peers, older kids and adults. He is bold and will talk to just about anyone, anytime about anything that enters his mind. Imagine my surprise when Cal, for the second day in a row (we had a family party for him yesterday), tried to hide from the attention he was getting from people singing to him for his birthday. Here he is already showing a little uneasiness at the start of the birthday song:

 

 

And then here he is mid-birthday song, burying his head into Dan's shoulder:

 

And then all is well once the song and clapping are over and it's time to blow out the candle:

I found this to be very interesting since it is so contrary to what I would expect from Cal. No criticism or concern intended, either. In fact, I smile about this because this reaction to the attention is a little piece of me coming out of that "mini Dan" body. And I love him for it.

We finished the night with a ride on the 50-cent train -- Ella was there first and then Cal joined her. There was no fighting over who would "steer" the train or who would sit where, and I credit Cal with this. Ella clearly wanted to "steer" and clearly wanted to sit on the right side of the seat and was prepared to fight for it. Cal took the high road (another trait of mine) and let her, enjoying the ride just the same.

Happy birthday, my handsome, smart, funny, shy, artistic, stubborn, sweet, sensitive Cal. I love you and am so very proud of you!