Author: sajbat

Learned Behavior

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One of the things that I find remarkable about watching babies grow up is how much of what we, as adults, take for granted is actually a learned behavior.  Some of this is obvious, such as learning to toilet, or buttoning a shirt, but what I find fascinating is watching them learn how to eat.  The Boy has this down pretty well (in theory, I suppose, though not really in practice), but teh Girl is just beginning to figure it out.

The first time I tried to give her finger food, she basically swept it off the high chair in a futile attempt to grasp it in her little paws.  Poor thing got so frustrated she started bawling.  She’s better at it now, as you can see. She has this nifty little technique of raking up a bit of food, squeezing through her pudgy little fist until it is precariously balanced on top, and then quickly getting her fist to her mouth.

To the mouth!
Raking it up

Raking it up

success!

success!

Not to be outdone by the little upstart, the Boy had to show off that he can put food in his mouth too, so here’s that picture:

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Still, the thing I wonder about is how we learn our emotional bearings, how we deal with the world, and how we deal with ourselves, as those are things not so obviously mastered.

Montessori in the Home

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The Boy has started playing “Teacher”. He goes to a Montessori school, so this means that he, of course, is the teacher, and sets out “lessons” for other people. Here is an example of how he sets out his lessons:

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Here you see the semicircle of lessons lined up in front of him. The work he is currently doing involves sorting the curlers into various boxes according to color.

 

 

 

 

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Here is another work involving balancing completely unbalanceable objects. This one was pretty fun. There was another work involving wooden letter blocks in which you had to stack the blocks but match up letters on the touching sides.  He just couldn’t figure out how to match up two sides at the same time and kept turning them and getting progressively more frustrated.

In general, pretty funny, especially when he gets mad and starts to tell you, “No! That’s not how you do the lesson! Listen to me!” Or when he praises you and tells you “Nice work! Good job!” Nothing like validation from a 3 year old to make your day.

Storytelling

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My sister was in town for the holidays, and it was generally great fun.  One thing I learned about her–she is an awful storyteller.  She started to tell the boy a story, and I ungraciously interrupted to suggest that she tell “Goldilocks and the Three Bears”. Her telling of this was so terrible that he couldn’t take it anymore and started to tell his own story.

“Roary the Lion” by the Boy. (with some liberties taken in the paraphrasing)

Roary was walking down the street, and then a car camed and zoomed over him. And then he died! And then he went to the three bears house, and ate all their porridge, and ate everything in their house, and ate all the bears. And then he went back to the zoo. And then the bears came out and went back home, and they saw that the porridge was gone, and they cried. So they  made cookies instead and sat in front of the fireplace and watched the fire and the christmas tree, and they were happy! The end.

Watch your words…

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On the way home from a fabulous dinner tonight with some new friends, Eric asked me, “What complicated toy are we going to get the Boy this Christmas?” To which I replied, “Huh?” He says, “You know, like the kitchen we got last year that took 4 beers and all of ‘Knocked Up’ and ‘Superbad’ to put together”

From the back seat, we hear, “What’s knocked up? Knocked up?? What’s that?!” As we dissolve into laughter, the crescendo only rises, “What IS that?! Knocked up?!”

Tabula Rasa

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I deal with a lot of death, dying and suffering at my job.  Practically every day I have to tell people and their family members that they have an incurable disease, one that we cannot do much for except to relieve symptoms as the end draws near. Even for those who are not dying, the people I see are often sick, confused, and in pain.

This is one of the reasons I love coming home to the kids.  At their ages, they are still blank, fresh, full of life, with futures yet unwritten.  There is a book called “The Dead Zone,” by Stephen King (yes, also a movie and TV series), in which the lead character, Johnny, is afflicted with the ability to touch people and see into their future.  This becomes a burden as most of his premonitions are about pain and people’s deaths.  At one point, he holds a baby, apprehensive of what he will feel.  A relief washes over him as all he feels is the swirling of the undetermined.

On my more difficult days, I always think of this when I pick up the little ones and hold them close.  After spending so much time with people who are near the end of their life, it is a comfort to come home to people who are just starting out.

And faces like this always make me smile:imgp0560

Dreams of a toddler

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Lately, the Boy has been crawling into our bed around 3 AM every night, saying, “My room is too scary.”  Groggily, we feel him stumble over us and plop into bed, only to whine a few minutes later, “I don’t have a pillow!”

Last night, he had trouble falling asleep so he went into our bed and read until he fell asleep.  I went up to bed and he was sprawled out next to his animal encylopedia, fast asleep.  I awkwardly picked him up to transport him to his own bed, and he started to protest, “no! no!” I thought he wanted to stay in our bed, but the next sentence was, “I have to finish my building!”

I’ve always wondered what he dreams about.  Considering how much time he spends pretending to be Bob the Builder when he is awake, I shouldn’t be terribly surprised. Perhaps he IS Bob the Builder. file26048944

Raveling

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My sister can actually be credited with getting me started on my obsession with knitting.   Actually, perhaps I should credit my mother’s inability to produce any knitted object other than a scarf.

When I was preggers with Atticus, my sister had bought my mother a knitting kit and yarn to make a hat for the baby.  My mother, unused to circular needles found it too challenging and asked if I wanted it. I had taught myself how to crochet a few months back to make a baby blanket for a dear friend’s baby, and thought I could figure it out.  I got the “Stitch n’ Bitch” book and pored over knitting tutorials on the net and eventually produced a perfect little striped hat.  Of course, having no idea how big a baby’s head really was, the hat swallowed my newborn whole and it took a small rescue team to find him.

Since then I’ve branched out into new projects, trying to learn something new with each one.  I still make a ton of those little hats, though, just more appropriately sized.

The latest piece, as any knitter will recognize, is the oft-knitted, sometimes maligned Clapotis. I bought this beautiful silk yarn while in San Fran in October, and it’s turning out pretty nicely, if I do say so myself.  I find it very gratifying to drop the stitches and watch the form take place.imgp0650imgp0649

Conversations

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The Boy has a world in which many inanimate objects converse with each other, and sometimes with himself.  Yesterday I got him to eat because I told him that the peas needed to talk to the pasta in his tummy, and the pasta was lonely in there all by itself.  After he scarfed down the peas, he then re-enacted the conversation that they would have.

“Hey Pasta! How you doing in there!” “Good, Peas!”

And today, I learned that the sun converses with the clouds:

“Clouds, I am tired and want to go to sleep.” “Ok, Sun, good night!”

So that’s how they agree on sunset every night.

The snugglers

The snugglers

The beginning is a good place to start

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Well, I’ve always wanted to start a blog, and now I have.

Mostly I want to record (and share) all of the odd, bizarre, hilarious, and sweet things that my children do, and thus add to the oversaturated mommy blog world.  I also want to show off some knitted pieces, and thus add to the bloated world of knitting blogs. And finally, my thoughts on medicine, doctoring and the like, and, well, add yet another utterly unneccesary blog into the world of the blogging physician.

Do you really care? Probably not.

But here you are anyway.