The Zen of Fears

Seamus and I went exploring in the Japanese Tea Garden this morning -- I am into "things you can do for free with kids in San Francisco," and one thing is that if you get to the Tea Garden between 9-10am on a weekday, there's no entrance fee.  So, since we were over in that neck of the woods dropping Patrick off at the dentist anyway, we decided to go exploring.

We hiked over bridges, climbed up stairs, "jumped" from stepping stone to stepping stone, sat in dewy grass, smacked irises to make the glistening dew rain off them -- you know, your usual zen morning.  We also saw some big carp swimming lazily in the pond, and made fishy faces at them.

Seamus is usually nearly fearless, running off to explore new things, running up to new people to smile at them and see if they'll smile back at him, squealing as he runs up to dogs to say hi.  But lately, I've started to notice him having more fears -- this morning, for example, just 15 minutes after greeting a couple of dogs, he backed away in fear from a squirrel.  I don't know that he's ever seen a squirrel up close, so I guess that's part of it -- but I was surprised when I pointed out a squirrel running across the path toward a tree about 15 feet in front of us, carrying a nut in his mouth, thinking Shay would love to watch him run up the tree... and instead Shay sort of wimpered, turned around, and clung to me.  I tried to explain that he didn't need to be afraid of the squirrel, but he just wanted to wave bye-bye to it, which, in this context, means "let's get the heck outta here."  So we left the squirrel and walked up the hill, and then I crouched down to toddler level and pointed out a big statue of the Buddha, sitting cross-legged in the shadow of a tree near where we stood.  He barely looked at it before turning around to cling to me.  He refused to walk by the Buddha, and insisted on being carried past that area.

I guess it's good, for him to have fears of unknown creatures -- and that Buddha is a little scary-looking, I'll give him that.  It makes me feel safe that he runs to me when he sees something unexpected or feels unsure -- I mean, at least it makes me feel safer than knowing he will run fearlessly into anything.   He did, however, try to climb over a rock so he could get into the pond and make fishy faces up close to the carp, and I tried really hard to seem calm while I held him back.  We are both working on the zen of our fears.

5k!

Today, I ran my first 5k.  I succeeded in all three of my main goals:
1. I finished it.
2. I ran the whole way; no stopping/resting/walking.
3. I had the cutest cheering section at the race!

It was actually way more fun than I thought it would be! It was a great atmosphere -- very positive with lots of cheering for all accomplishments.  The event was for women and girls only, and there was the 5k I ran as well as a 10k, a half-marathon, an 18-mile race, and a 1.5 mile kids' run.  There was actually a good-sized group of young girls running the 5k as well, which I thought was really cool. The race was alongside a lake in a park in the East Bay, and it was nice to run outside, which I haven't gotten the chance to do in my training -- definitely makes the time pass by more quickly to have something pretty to look at! It was harder to keep track of my pace, though, without the treadmill to set the pace for me.  I have no idea what my time actually was -- I couldn't see the clock as I was finishing, but Patrick says I finished "fast" so hopefully I managed to keep a reasonable pace!  (Though I think Patrick's "fast" comment is more about being proud of me than about my actual speed...) I'm hoping they'll post it online so I have something to try to improve on next time -- because suddenly I've decided I like running more than I thought I did!

I loved having my little dude out there to watch me run my first race -- a great Mother's Day gift!

Good Old Days

This last weekend, we went down to PG for the "Good Old Days," one of the town's "major" festivals (i.e. two-block parade, local bands, two-block arts-and-crafts/food booth festival).  Seamus is obsessed with watching fire truck parades on YouTube, so he had fun going with his grandparents to watch a real-life parade with some fire trucks.  There were also members of the local high school marching band and dance troupe, local kids marching for the library, and old classic cars.  Oh, and belly dancers, the Senior Center tap class brigade, and the Castroville artichoke queen -- you know, your typical parade fare.  What's a parade without belly dancers on a float?

We stood across the street from the fire station to walk the parade, and Dude got a new junior firefighter sticker.  Here we are:

He then spent much of the next day and a half standing up on my parents' couch and looking out their front window onto their very quiet street, announcing "Fire truck!" Or playing with my dad in his studio, looking out the window into the backyard and pointing out "Fire truck!" Or, maybe he wasn't announcing or pointing out; maybe it was wishful thinking?  An attempt to summon?  Or maybe "Gah Guck" doesn't mean fire truck after all -- maybe it means outside? Red? Awesome? Music? I don't know; I'm a little confused.

But he had some good parade-watching time, hanging out in the studio time, playing on the porch time, going to the park time, and general lots-of-attention-from-grandma-and-grandpa time.

You could tell he had a great time, because when we drove home on Sunday afternoon, he looked like this:

When we got home, he ran delightedly through the apartment to the living room, and pointed right at his red fire truck: "Gah guck!" He then ran to the window, climbed up on his stepstool, and looked out at the crowded city streets.  "Ck! Ck!" he shouted.  I think it means truck.  But, you never know.

Losing Weight in My Hair

I used to be a swimmer (and would like to be again one day), and I have pretty much always hated running, but after I had Seamus I found it difficult to do much swimming, as driving through the city, parking, getting into the gym, getting changed, swimming, and then showering, getting dressed, and getting back home just felt like too much -- and it is pretty rare that I have that much time all in a row to myself, so I wasn't managing to do it all that often.  But, we have a little gym in our building that has some treadmills and elliptical machines and a bike and some weights.  So, after I quit the big gym with the pool, I started going downstairs to that little gym sometimes.  And then, since I was going to a gym that had no pool but that did have treadmills, I decided to try out that Couch-to-5k program, that is supposed to teach non-runners how to be runners.  I am now running 2.5 miles at a time, without stopping, so I guess it is working!  It kind of fools you into getting there, by making you run and then walk in intervals, and by gradually increasing the amount you run and decreasing the amount you walk.  It also makes you run three times a week, which keeps me more honest than just going to the gym "sometimes" -- but all the workouts are only 30 minutes, and I only have to run down the stairs to get to the gym.

I can't quite say that I love running like I love swimming, but I do feel quite virtuous after I run, and I love that feeling.  I thought, though, that this running three times a week would help me lose some weight, but it doesn't seem to be making much difference yet.  Maybe because it just makes me hungrier than I would be if I wasn't running?  

So, since I'm not losing weight in my body, I thought maybe I should lose some weight in my hair.

I felt like my hair had been long for a while, so I let my hairdresser cut quite a bit off the other day.  Shay didn't seem to notice any difference, but Patrick says I look like I got scalped.  I think that he is joking.  So anyway, I don't quite know how to gauge the new 'do, though I kinda like it.  My head feels lighter.

We'll see if my new lighter head helps make the running easier. After one more run at 2.5 miles, I have to do 2.75 for a week, and then 3.  I signed up for a real 5k in May, so wish me luck! I figure if I tell the internets that I'm doing it, it'll keep me from backing out.

Do you run?  Do you love it?  Can you help me learn how to love the part where I am actually running, instead of just the part after I run?  I am thinking that it might start with going to pick out some new shoes, right?

Happy Spring!

Happy Spring to you; happy anniversary to us!  When you look at the weather predictions in our area, it's rain-rain-rain-rain-rain, for as far into the future as predictions go, but right now, there's a little break in the rain and I can see some blue sky.  While part of me equates "spring" with warm sunshine, and flowers, and baseball, there is definitely a piece of me that loves this edge of springtime: the rain interspersed with the sunshine, wanting to drink hot chocolate while walking outdoors, etc.  I was thinking back on our wedding, which was also an edge of springtime day: there was grey fog hanging over the mossy trees surrounding the Unitarian Church where we had our ceremony for most of the day, but then there was a burst of sunshine while we said our vows.   Here we are at Lovers Point: we drove through a little sprinkling of rain but then as we got out of the car to take pictures, there was a break in the rain and a huge rainbow. 

I think my teeth were chattering a bit there.

Because my Aunt Judy and Uncle John are awesome, we get two anniversary dates this year: they came over last night and babysat while we went to the movies, and then they're coming back tonight so we can go out to dinner.  Awesomeness.  We saw Black Swan last night, and ohmygoddidyouseethat?  Talk about being on the edge.  I loved it -- I don't get to go to the movies that often, and it was definitely a fun movie to see in the theater: I got lost in the story, fascinated (creeped out?) by what was going on, gasping and grabbing onto Patrick and covering my eyes.  I don't tend to get that lost in movies on DVD, so that was fun.

Hope that this is the beginning of a lovely spring for you!

This Into That

While not desperately trying to get someone to read him a book about trucks, or looking out the window at trucks, Seamus spends a lot of his time putting things into other things.  He has a yellow wooden schoolbus with six differently-shaped blocks that fit into it, and he is starting to master getting the circle-shaped block into the circle-shaped hole, the triangle-shaped block into the triangle-shaped hole, etc.  He likes to stack up his stackable cups in the bathtub, and sometimes he likes to change it up and stick a rubber ducky into one of the cups.  He likes to load things up into the driver's seat of his toy dump truck, too, and he's getting more consistent at getting the alphabet pieces to fit correctly into his singing ABC's fridge magnet.  Or, sometimes he gets the magnets, blocks, and cups to fit correctly into the laundry hamper.

Or sometimes he finds new places to put the things that someone else has put in the laundry hamper -- this morning, for example, I was in the bathroom washing my face while he fished two dirty socks out of my laundry hamper and threw them into the bathtub.

And, as skinny as he is, he eats a ton and he LOVES to put food into his mouth.

I don't know if you can really tell, but this picture was meant to show you that he mostly puts food into his mouth with his left hand, with his right hand sort of dangling in the air nearby, until it swoops down on the tray at the end of the meal to help the left hand smoosh the food around. While he definitely uses both his hands to play and work with the blocks and magnets and do other things that use his fine motor skills, he seems to favor his left hand right now.  [I wonder if that means he is left-handed?  When does "handedness" (is that a word?) develop?]

The "putting things into other things" came in handy at our friends Cassie and Andy's housewarming party last weekend -- Shay spent a good 15 minutes taking beers out of six packs and stocking them in the ice bucket. (And then taking them out of the ice bucket and putting them in the six packs.  And then putting them back into the ice bucket.)

It has come in less handy as he has discovered how to put things into the top opening of the diaper bin and swing the handle down to deposit the thing into the smelly, gross depths of the bin -- we've lost a stuffed koala and a stuffed bear so far.

I, meanwhile, nearly poured coffee from the coffeepot into my oatmeal this morning, instead of pouring the water from the kettle.  And when I finished eating a yogurt while working on a lesson plan, I absentmindedly stuck the licked-clean spoon into the pen pocket of my schoolbag. What things are going into unexpected places in your house these days?

Do You Think I'm Talking to Hear Myself Talk?

About two years ago, there was a Facebook thing going around where you were supposed to write "25 Random Things" about yourself. It's one of the only Facebook notes I ever wrote, but I remember having lots of fun with it. One of my "things" on that list was: "I talk to myself a lot.  I'm actually never really talking to myself, precisely.  Sometimes I rehearse my part in conversations I'm eagerly anticipating or nervously awaiting.  Other times I find myself sort of explaining recent events to an unspecific reader/viewer/listener, like I'm my own first-person narrator.  I usually don't talk out loud, but I almost always move my lips.  And sometimes I get caught.  And getting caught, animatedly but silently talking to myself, is pretty embarrassing.  This is, in fact, the one thing on this list that I'm embarrassed to share." 

After I had Seamus, I found a new way to be less embarrassed about this talking to myself: I could say the stuff out loud, to him -- I could narrate what was going on, practice conversations with him, etc., and suddenly I wasn't having to do it silently, and no one would look askance at me, talking to my kid.  In fact, many of the books I read on parenting and language acquisition encouraged me to talk out loud to him, all day long -- they said that was how he'd get the rhythms and sounds and words and structure of language.

So, for over a year, I've been talking to Shay/myself, all the livelong day, just chattity chat chat.  I talk about what we're doing right now, what we're going to do later, what color things are, what the ducky says to the froggy while they're riding in the tugboat in the bathtub, what I'm thinking about, what I might say to my students tomorrow, what I would say to Scott Walker if I could get five minutes with him (expletives removed), etc. etc.  I have stopped feeling funny asking questions that get no response, or talking and talking and talking without leaving any pauses for response.

Then, the other day, I was trying to get Shay's dinner cooked and organized, and in an effort to get him out from underfoot so that I could move around the kitchen a little, and also partially just because I was thinking out loud about all the dinner things I'd need to have assembled before settling him into his high chair, I said, "Ooh, we need a sippy cup too. Hey, bud, where's your water? Do you see your green sippy cup?"  He let go of my leg immediately, and walked out to the edge of the living room and peered out at his sea of toys.  After 30 seconds of searching, he pointed frantically at a sippy cup nestled in amongst 14 books on trains, buses, and trucks. "Hey, yeah, you're right!" I responded.  "There it is!  Can you go get it and bring it to Mama?" He toddled off, grabbed the sippy cup, and brought it back to me.  "Thank you, Shay! What a good helper you are!" I exclaimed, and he grinned, proudly I think, dropped the cup, and hugged my leg.

This morning, we were in the car heading over to the freeway to head toward my school and his "day care" with Grandma and Grandpa, and we approached three yellow schoolbuses parked outside one of the local elementary schools.  "Look, Shay," I exclaimed, pointing at the buses.  "Buh! Buh! Buh!" he replied, clapping his hands.

I have an interlocutor, it seems.