One step away

We are thisclose to sending Luke off to school for a day all by himself. And he seems to be doing alright with the teeny transition steps so far. Today was the first day he was going to eat lunch there, and although he didn't seem to be listening when I showed him his lunch bag and told him what was in it, he apparently spent the rest of the morning at home asking, "Where's Lukie's lunch bag?" When it was time to leave he ran to get the lunch bag, then slung it over his shoulders and marched out the door like a big kid on a mission.

His "doctor" affectation, while mystifying, seems to have taken hold in a big way. If you say, "Thank you, Luke" or "Sorry, Luke" or "Luke, could I please have the..." he will quickly correct you: "Thank you, doctor," - etc. As Dave puts it, he's one step away from having an imaginary friend. Well, if that's what it takes to keep the doctor happy...

workshop

Nothing much to say, just kind of blissing out after a really nice day. The "doctor's" big surprise this morning was a super-duper new workshop/tool center (thank you, Craigslist) and we didn't do much else except fix things and talk about tools. Had a nice, mellow Shabbat dinner over at Hatcher's house and the two little guys played together like longtime buddies (which, technically, they are). I guess it's part of the bounceback from being sick - and maybe Luke is feeling this too - but I have just a nice glow about what a good day it was. Yes, I ate far too many chocolate chip bars...and yes, I'm feeling very nervous about the big change looming ahead of us...but hey - it's winter and I don't have to wear a swimsuit...and Luke seems basically OK, possibly even happy about the concept of "school" thus far. (In fact yesterday, after spending two and a half hours there in the morning, he had a weird kind of electric energy about him, but in a positive way. It was almost like he was just being stimulated in a new way. At least I hope it was that, and not some new weirdo kind of virus.) And on top of all that, I have American Idol, the comfort food of television, to get me through the next few weeks. O happy, happy day.

The doctor is in

So we told Luke that today he'd be going to school with Silvia. As soon as he realized that meant he'd get to play the drums again and climb up the reading loft, he was game. Dave reports that once he finished breakfast, he jumped down from his chair and said, "Suba, go to school!"

Today was technically just the first break-in day (just a 2-hour visit) so we have yet to see how lunchtime will go...or nap time...or a full day...or the drop-off. But so far, so good.

Also, there's another kid named Luke in his class (and a kid named Duke, of all things). When Luke introduced himself as "Me llamo Lucas," the teacher asked if he wanted to be called Lucas in school. I don't think so. But he has had an oddball thing recently where he wants us to call him "the doctor." ("The doctor drumming," "The doctor using tools," etc.)Wonder if they'll indulge him on that?

overnight

So we started out with a toddler, and now all of a sudden we have a kid. How did it all happen so fast?
--Earlier this week, he weaned completely. He will now announce to anyone and everyone: "No mas money milk."
--At some point this weekend, he officially refused the booster seat and started eating happily, compliantly in the grown-up dining room chair. He even knows that he has to ask to be excused.
--Last night he had his first night in the big-boy bed. Slept through the night. Seemed fine with it, except for being a little disoriented this morning. I'm sure it's confusing because all of a sudden there's this new bed in the room, and the rocking chair is gone, and there's no mas money milk in the morning...So he basically woke up and wanted out of the room entirely. Back to more familiar pastures, like Postman Pat.
What has he morphed into? Here's a two-year-old who can sense when I am unhappy and say "Feel better, mommy" - and then turn right around and act like it is the absolute end of the world when he needs to put on a light jacket to go outside. Here's a kid who will eat "poos-pasas" and "mas masa" but who won't even touch the large bowl of spaghetti and meatballs presented to him at the fancy museum restaurant. Here's a guy who wants to be carried around said museum, and yet discusses the exhibit of ancient Greek vases (OK, "bases") for hours afterwards.
And here I am - bemused, a little befuddled, and ever curious to find out what's next. If all of this can happen today, what's in store for tomorrow?

Ow.

I was going to post a post today that consisted entirely of "Ow ow ow. Ow. Ow, ow ow ow ow ow. Ow ow ow. Ow. " But I thought the point would be made after only a few ows.

Today is Valentine's Day, which, if the past two years are any indication, has become a day of pain for me (two years ago - lack of sleep plus incessant baby-crying; last year - baby surgery plus baby unwillingness to go to sleep at night).

But also today, amazingly is the first day in almost THREE YEARS (counting back from March 2003) that my body has been entirely mine. And I don't want it. Hahahahahaha. No, I mean I'm just foggy from a cold, acutely sore from an infection of some sort, and generally just wanting to tuck myself into a very large bed. But Luke did not nurse this morning, which was the source of just a minor protest, and which was more or less resolved by giving him the rest of the chocolate "money milk" cake. So here I am - just me. I threw all caution to the wind and drank a glass of wine - yippeeee! I think Luke might be moderately OK with it because he didn't even mention it tonight. Now I just have to go through some other agonies for a week or so to get through it...and then it'll all be a breeze, right?

On a cheery romantic note: Today I was finally able to give Dave the culmination of my weeks-long project, our wedding album (we had the negatives and the proofs but we had never put it together as an official album). As we were paging through it, we came to the picture where we're up at the altar and Dave is wiping a tear from his face. We asked Luke, "What is Daddy doing?" and Luke took one glance at it and said, "Picking his nose!"

Two steps forward...

We couldn't help thinking, while we baked in the sun at the beach this morning, about our fellow family members stuck in the snow back East. Sure, we had a good time digging and shoveling and watching the waves crash. But there's something we just miss about the idea of being holed up in the house, no reason to go anywhere, hunkering down with fuzzy blankets, watching movies, and chowing down on mac-alicious party food meant to serve 60. I mean, sure, we had the beach. But we didn't have cake, you know what I mean? Sigh. You don't.

I'm at a point where I need to hunker down. It's just been too many battles over the past week, too much time spent comforting and reassuring, and looking for ways to kill the pain. Luke had an amazing few leaps ahead this weekend. He voluntarily pooped in the potty not once but twice this weekend (TMI? You tell me). And he strung together his first five-word sentence while watching Postman Pat ("Little girl want stay home."). Sounds like we're right on track, right? Well, we also had major regression of the I-hope-this-isn't-permanent kind. I had to resort to giving him a bottle, something he hasn't had since age, oh, I don't know, 16 months. And when dinnertime rolled around, he was too busy to eat because he was happily ensconced with a Baby Einstein video. Little did I know Dave had been preparing to ask me about why we haven't put him in the bed yet: "Are we infantilizing him?" - only to come home and see the bottle of milk in his hand. One battle at a time, he tells me, and I try to tell myself.

So as if we didn't have enough sand at the beach, we now have not one but two sand tables, courtesy of garage-cleaning neighbors who saw fit to throw both out on the curb. But they look just fine to us, so that'll be one more thing that Luke can do outside, to distract him from the bottle, and the Baby Einstein, and the pain...

Fix it

This week we've moved on from psychic pain to real, hard-core physical pain. Luke was diagnosed with hand-foot-mouth disease (just the mouth part at least) and it has involved some of the cruelest sores imaginable for me and him. In fact, most of the things I was prepared to describe this week fell under the TMI category. I kept thinking, "I should write about...oh, never mind." No one wants to read about it, maybe not even me fifteen years from now. Let's just say it's hideous, awful, painful, and making all of us cranky.

Since we've had so much lap time this week I've had a chance to observe lots of Luke the Reader. He has a great time with books, usually going from one object to another "Wha dis? Wha dis? Wha dis?" and so on. Other times he loves to name individual things: "That digger. That lawnmower. That forklift." Sometimes if he's particularly jolly he likes to mess around with Dave: "That pig. That pig. That pig" to everything on the page. Sometimes, if he's in bed, he just likes to hear the story, and he fills in the gaps where necessary. Like in Corduroy, when he creeps down from the shelf at night, "All shoppers gone home."

Apropos of nothing, today I had to miss the day with Luke. Instead I spent the day speaking at a conference...and I didn't get nervous or foul up or anything bad (woo-hoo!). It was just cool and easy, and I was so proud of myself. But I kept having this weird alter-ego thing where I kept trying to think of ways to incorporate Luke into my examples or anecdotes, just so people knew I was also a mom. I couldn't help it; I guess I didn't realize how much I thought of that as a central part of my identity, even as a professional person.

I came home to find Dave and Luke in the guest room, guiltily holding on to forbidden wires and plugs. Luke has an almost insatiable need to "fix" things, whether it be the car (see above) or the drums or the box that the rice steamer came in. His prize toys are the hammer from Grandpa, the chainsaw from Cousin Sam, and any tool at all, especially the forbidden ones, in daddy's garage. Sometimes his fixes cause more damage than the cuteness can justify (again, see photo above). Some fixes need to be done time and again (see the rice steamer box). That said, some things just plain need fixing, and we're all frustrated because we don't know how to fix them, other than to see what happens over time.

The Walla-Walla Pansies

We've gone through Hell Week and emerged, relatively unscathed. Work was horrible. Putting Luke to bed was horrible. Having Dave gone was horrible. Trying to buy Luke a bed and dealing with Ikea was horrible. But hey, it's all behind us now. Luke is semi-compliant at bedtime again, we have a new bed for him which he'll try for real one of these days, Dave is home, and I still have a job for now.

We took a break from all of the yuckiness yesterday by heading over to Suzi and Boom-Boom's house for the Superbowl. Suzi and Bill decked out in purple for ... the Minnesota Vikings? Luke decked out in a red football jersey for... the Redskins? Dave wore white in honor of...hmmm...the White Sox?...and I was in pink for (as Bill suggested) the Walla-Walla Pansies.

Luke's cold had gotten worse and even though he insisted that his nose had "turned off" earlier, it started running again, and he was even running a slight fever by the end of the night. But he was positively undeterred in having a (non-football-related) great time. He's serious about drumming on the big fancy set and the little bongos. He's very interested in any cooking that happens outside (read: grilling). And he's perfectly happy just running around doing goofy stuff.

Picture him in his blue footie pajamas, wearing Suzi's long pearl necklace, reaching into her jewelry cabinet, pulling out another necklace, carefully closing the door, trotting back into the living room to present someone with a new necklace, then heading back in to her room to repeat the process. Now picture him with the same PJ's and the same necklace, leaning jauntily against the ottoman, chatting and gesturing around the room with his big mug of milk. He's like a witty pajama-wearing raconteur, quick with a joke and easy with a crowd.

Now I'm trying to buy kids' sheets for Luke but I'm getting a little caught up in what it means I think about his personality. Licensed characters are out. I don't want him sleeping with the Wiggles. And don't even get me started on Elmo. Diggers are a possibility. Castles would be a possibility too, but he's more interested in the castle, not the dragons. Would that be too scary? I'd think bugs on sheets would be a little scary, as would dinosaurs. Ikea had some sheets with creepy one-eyed monsters that seem to be begging to be the subject of nightmares. Also he doesn't have any real allegiance to a particular sports team at the moment (except the Walla Walla Pansies) so it feels weird to force it.

If I could I would design custom kids' sheets: some with barbecues and flippers and mixers; some with guitars, drums, violins, pianos, and horns; and some with another non-gender-stereotyped subject matter that I have yet to come up with. Not to get all Brokeback Mountain on the world, but why do the boys have to have sports or train themes, while the girls get all the pretty flowers and colors? Why can't a kid just wear a necklace, enjoy cooking and music, and still be the coolest guy on the block?