Freedom Trail (or: Our July 4 Vacation)

If you want pictures, they're here. If you care for a summary, keep reading.

Some idiot thought it'd be a good idea to take a toddler on a train. That idiot was me. And, actually, it definitely beat flying or driving, so although it was a challenging trip, it was no more challenging than our regular life, except that we didn't have the option to pack it in and go home for a breather.

Getting to the train station in Austin was a lot easier than I thought it'd be. We parked (for free!) three spaces away from the terminal. We only had to be there half an hour early. Then we were on the train and ready to go. Mal and I went up to the lounge car for a while, then James joined us. D slept pretty much the whole way, having been warned in advance that the heartland trains are for some reason the only ones left without any wi-fi.

After the third stop, Mal kept signing, "All done!" like he was finished with the train and wanted off. This was a problem, since we still had about two hours. We took turns distracting him, then let him video call Nana because he was ready to see her and kept crying for her, and finally he went to sleep around 1. After an hour-and-a-half's nap, he was up and ready to go again.

Nana and Pappy drove to Fort Worth to kill our layover with us. We walked to Flying Saucer and had a fabulous lunch (thanks, Pappy!) then enjoyed a bit of Sundance Square, as much as we could in mid-90s and full sun (there is a fountain, but Mal is the only one who got a little close, and even he wasn't going for the full Monty), then headed back to the train station to wait it out in the air condition.

After bidding Nana and Pappy adieu, we were on our way to OKC. This trip was longer... it turned out that it was A LOT longer, I guess because of construction on the rails. We were supposed to get in at 9:23, but early on it was showing we'd be here at 9:07. We actually got here around 10.

This trip was more tiring than the first leg, because Mal would not sit down for more than a couple of minutes. He was up walking, playing, enjoying himself. So James and I handed off chasing duties, and it still beat his being upset and wanting off of the train.

He fell asleep around 8:45, and woke up shortly before we arrived, gagging and dry heaving like he had done the night before at the same time. I have no idea what that's about; I was dreading having to call off the trip if he kept being sick, but after 9 the night before, he seemed to feel fine and had no sick symptoms. We'll see what he does tonight.

We got to the OKC station, and it's undergoing reconstruction. Good gosh, we could not figure out where to walk because they have construction fencing set up on the sidewalk, making it impassable with rolling luggage (or a girth of anything more than a scarecrow). We ended up traipsing up one lane of a six-lane street with all of our luggage.

It's wasn't far to the hotel, but after a long day and hauling so much gear, we were beat. Then the keys didn't work. The kids and I set up camp in the hall while James got new keys, and we discovered that the vending room has super chilly air conditioning (and takes credit cards!).

Mal was awake for at least an hour before James turned out the light, and who knows how late D stayed awake. Our room is nice and has good sound insulation, apparently. I would have slept very well if it weren't for a sweet, over tired, mysteriously barfy kid waking up every twenty to thirty minutes wanting mama juice.

Still, we got some rest and were ready to go this morning. We went down to our complimentary breakfast, and I took Mal out to see the fountain in the front. He wanted desperately to climb in, so it seemed like the perfect time to swim!

The pool here is indoors, has a beach entry, and has several water features. After an hour or so, Mal was getting pretty confident splashing around by himself. He also found a ball in one of the filters.

After James and I both showered, the three of us walked down to the American Banjo Museum. They had a "petting zoo" with a couple of samples banjos, and Mal entertained several people and played for about ten minutes before someone came over and said they were going to have to ask us to be quieter. Mal can't play quieter, so that was the end of that.

He looked around at the banjos but was frustrated that he couldn't get to them. There was an open bass banjo upstairs, with a note reading: DO NOT TOUCH. Mal fell on the floor crying two or three times before I decided just to take him downstairs and watch the Steve Martin retrospective on a loop three or four times. It was interesting and he seemed to enjoy it.

For lunch, we stopped at Pearl's Crabhouse. We got a crab dip appetizer, then James got crawfish etouffee, I got pecan crusted Idaho rainbow trout, and got shrimp Fettuccini to bring home for D. Mal manager to amuse himself pretty well for Mal, and we ate an entire meal until we were full. It helped that when Mal was sitting in the table, the waitress was so cool about it and didn't act like we were putting anyone out. Really good food and we have leftovers for later.

We came back to the room, Mal took a nap, and now we're getting ready to head over to Bass Pro Shop... we can see it from our eighth story window!

I FOUND THE CANDY and other updates

James says he didn't mess with my candy, but I'm thinking someone did. It's where I vaguely remember putting it, but I LOOKED THERE MULTIPLE TIMES. Like, even with a stepladder to make sure I wasn't missing something in the back. I'm not a man. If it had been there, I certainly would have seen it, right? *sigh* Anyway, I'm too full from dinner to enjoy it, but I might be having Reese's for breakfast in the morning.

The gym is an interesting place, and one of my pastimes is to try to figure out people's relationships with the kid(s) they bring to the gym. Because I'm an older mom, probably, I don't assume grandparentage. I have friends to whom this has happened, and I don't want to do it to anyone (nor do I want it to happen to me!). I don't assume kids with different-colored skin from their caregiver aren't their children, because I know too many adoptive families (in fact, just the other day when Mal and I were at the pool with the younger Brownies - a family name, this isn't racism! - the lifeguard was concernedly looking for "these boys' mother" as my sister stood right there). There are quite a few nannies who bring their charges.

It's an interesting melting pot, more so than I've seen anywhere else in Austin at large. Frankly, I was surprised at how white Austin is. The first place I saw black people, and the only place at first, was Walmart. Then when I moved closer to the campus, I saw more... still not many. It seems like a lot of black people work at the airport. Anyway, I expected Austin to be this freaky rainbow, but not so much. At the gym, there are not only families of all colors, there are at least seven different languages I've heard spoken.

A friend asked me once if I see the same moms and therefore connect a bit there, but that really hasn't happened. There ARE about five or six moms I see on a regular basis. Their kids are all a bit older than Mal, and most of them are quite a bit younger than I am. After a year of going, we're chatting more... but none of us is asking the others to tea (unless they are, and they're just not asking me).

One lady, I thought she was just super stuck up for the longest time. Then I heard her talking to another mom and realized she's not American. She's from I'd guess somewhere in Eastern Europe. And so the "eye contact and a smile" is probably still super foreign to her. She pack the tidiest Bento boxes of fruit, vegetables, and rice pudding for her daughter. I want to steal that kid's snacks.

Another thing that runs the gamut there is parenting styles. Some parents sit down, shoo their kids off, and read a book or play with their phone the whole time. Some parents won't let their kid play on one thing for too long before they're encouraging them, "Let's go do this now! Let's try this one!" like the kid needs circuit training. Some are very (overly?) conscientious about whether their kid is sharing, and others don't look at their kid at all because they're there to chat with their other mother friend, meanwhile their kids together monopolize an area and won't let other kids play.

A couple of times, I've seen occupational therapists working with kids, and, honestly, I wish they'd do that somewhere else. One kid screamed in terror with everything, and wanted his mom to hold him, and I know the lady was going for the end goal of helping him, but seeing a kid sobbing and wailing, chasing his mom around the gym while the OT encourages her to "laugh and keep running like it's a game!" is excruciating to watch. I seriously almost picked that kid up and hugged him.

One nanny (who is older than my mom) is so on top of Brianna (bree-AH-nuh; I know because she calls her name a bazillion times an hour) that I feel sorry for THAT kid. "Brianna, your shoe fell out of the cubby. Can you come put it back? Brianna, back here. Thank you. Oh, it fell out again. Can you put it back farther, Brianna? Brianna, that kid said 'hi' to you. Can you say 'hi' to him? Can you wave back, Brianna? Brianna, we can't play until you tell him hi, Brianna." Ad infinitum.

Then there was the day James was with me and only two other families were there. A four/five-year-old-boy had opened the bathroom door with his foot in the way, and had scraped off the entire inside of his toe. It was a wreck, and he was reasonably hysterical. I can't even go into how his mom handled it, because it was so dumbfounding and senseless that it will make my butt hurt for an hour. I like to pretend that SHIELD gave him a cybernetic toe so now he's glad it happened.

(Memo to self: In a health and safety situation where a kid might be in shock, please never EVER say, "I know it hurts, but I need you to calm down for just a minute.")

We've had a fun year and are going to keep it up. As long as we live somewhere this hot, it's nice to have an indoor place for Mal to burn off energy and be mostly safe. He's gotten a few bumps and bruises there, but has grown so much, in terms of balance and motor skills.

We had tried a class when we first went, but he just wasn't ready. This summer, they're offering free unlimited classes to people who are already members. We tried one today, and guess what? Still not ready. :)

That pool picture is from yesterday. We'd been meaning to pick up a cheap plastic pool so Mal could enjoy being outside, and he really dug it! I only put about 6 gallons of water in it, and will dump it out tomorrow. So, for under $8 including water, it's been a great deal.

Mal's having some weird sleep regression where he's just not firing on all cylinders, though sleep has never been his strong suit. But he went all of the three-day weekend without napping, though he was exhausted and overtired the whole time. So he was going to sleep between 7 and 8:30, and waking steadily every few minutes from about 5 AM until we usually get up around 7.

Saturday night, he woke up sobbing. He was just so, so sad. He was too sad to nurse, even. I think maybe he had a bad dream. At first, I was trying just to hold him but finally I said, "What's wrong, baby? Can you tell Mama?" and when he heard my voice, he got quiet and eventually fell back to sleep.

And whereas a few weeks ago, he had started sleeping 3-4 hours before his initial wake-up, now it's back to being at most two hours, and wake-ups every hour or so throughout the night.

Last night, he woke up while I was in D's room helping with something, and James tried to calm him. He would have zero of that, and I ended up coming back into the bedroom because I heard him yelling and crying from the other side of the apartment. People have said that they left their kids to be night-weaned by their fathers, and it was so much easier than they'd imagined... but I don't see that happening with us. Mal knows what he wants, and it's me. Surely we're approaching half way done, right?

That reminds me: I had thought about posting on Facebook a few weeks ago something like, "I hope when I see this on my memories next year that we're done with diapers!" And I realized it seems more likely to me that Mal will be potty-trained by three than weaned by then. I'm not forcing either, so we'll see what happens.

I just realized it's almost 11. It feels like Mal just went to sleep, but it's been nearly 2 hours. I should go to sleep, too. I'm pretty exhausted from the day, which included three loads of laundry, vacuuming the whole apartment, cleaning D's room, taking Mal to the gym, preparing three meals, and Mal trying to sit in my lap while I was eating dinner and instead flipping my plate into the floor... so a carpet cleaning to get rid of the carrot salad stains and the tuna salad smells.

Parenting this boy is an adventure! I love him so much, and he's such a sweetie, I honestly don't think I'd change a thing if I could. One day we'll be on the other side of the baby/toddler "tough" and I am certain that we'll have such a strong relationship borne of it. I really look forward to watching him grow up.

EDITED TO ADD: One last note! Today, we were at a stop light, and Mal looked over at the Golden Arches and said, "deedah!" (his word for "soda") I told him we had soda at home, so we weren't going to stop, but I thought it was funny. THEN when we passed the Sonic a mile down the road, he said, "deedah!" again. I might have a caffeine problem.

This is not a funny blog post, so please don't laugh at my pathetic reality

My elder child requested something a few months ago and I, ever the attentive mother, have been diligent in my compliance. Somehow, she didn't inherit any of the stalwart willpower I possess in astonishing amounts (as long as negative amounts count; which means that's sarcasm, for those of you who are new to this game).

Anyhoo, she said that if she knows we have junk food around, she will eat through it until it is gone. Now, personally, I see nothing wrong with that, except if she eats it all and then I want to eat it all, too. But other than that... Anyway, apparently she doesn't want to locust her way through the snack aisle of the grocery store the way that I do. So I've been buying less, and trying to make it super low key when I do.

About four weeks ago, Walgreens had a good sale on regular candy bars. I bought (yes, I remember exactly from my purchase a month ago. Shut up) a Heath Bar, white chocolate Kit Kat, Reese's big cup, and then noticed a flirty little 5th Avenue that I had to have. When I got home, I ate the 5th Avenue, then I set about trying to find a place to put the other three bars.

Do you see where this is going?

So... a week or so after my purchase, I decided I was in the mood for maybe a Kit Kat with smooth white chocolate coating. Sounds good, right? So I looked up in the place where I keep my spices, because I remembered putting the brown paper bag, carefully folded over to be compact and surreptitious, up there... But it wasn't there.

Then something buzzed in my brain about how that was right above the Instant Pot, and when I release the steam, it might affect the chocolate, so I *didn't* put it there. Had I put it in the regular pantry? That seemed kind of douchey, but I looked there, anyway.

I ended up looking in all of the cabinets and couldn't find it. I just gave up and decided that it might hit me where I put them later.

It didn't hit me, and over the next few days, I'd relook in all of the places I'd already looked when I was in the kitchen cooking, cleaning, or emptying the dishwasher. Seriously. Where were they?

In the ensuing weeks, I've looked in my bedroom drawers, bookshelves, and pretty much everywhere except under the counters anywhere because I wouldn't put them low enough for Mal to get to them, and I haven't looked in the laundry room or bathroom because they get hot and humid, and plus, gross: people and cats use it in there.

WHERE IS MY CANDY?

It was less than $2.50, but the contents of that bag represent a lot more to me in terms of memory and holding it together and my hope that at least a few of my brain cells still function!

So, there it is. This is my life now. Forever searching my home for my lost candies. Do you realize that the universe has trusted me with the care and well-being of TWO HUMAN CHILDREN? I cannot keep track of tiny bricks of chocolate, unable to move under their own volition, and yet I am supposedly competent to make sure that these kids survive until adulthood? Who's in charge around here?

Advice to Me in the Past (before I was married)

First things first. Remember Laura Hannah from high school? Of course you do. Look her up. Seriously. She's even more awesome than you remember (I know...it's hard to imagine, but trust me on this one).

Secondly: those people who tell you that "raising kids is the most difficult thing ever, but it's also the most rewarding" haven't had very difficult lives. They were pretty spot-on about the "most rewarding" part, though.

I have a strong suspicion that the actual difficulty may have a lot to do with how much time/energy you, as a parent, have available. I think the kid probably stretches that envelope until it starts to unravel. And then they ride on that ragged edge until you throw them out of the nest.

I base this judgment on my own boundless experience as an insufferable whippersnapper and a little time observing frazzled parents.

It's certainly *easier* to cut a switch and try to teach the little snot to stay out of the medicine cabinet with a few gentle swats. I have my doubts about its actual long-term effectiveness. I think mouse traps would probably work much better.

But the little tykes have such sensitive fingers. And it's different when it's *your* little tyke. Not at all like the squalling little brat at the supermarket who won't shut up (actually, you'll start rejoicing when you hear some other kid crying just because it isn't your problem...but it'll be okay to let your heart bleed a little and try to help. I can see the appeal to the idea of some politician who knows how to make things better).

So maybe you'll let the baby examine your razor (under very close supervision, of course). And maybe Mommy will let the baby watch the mixer create cookie dough (ditto). And maybe the tyke will do his best to inspect the inside of the oven fan while that cookie dough's baking.

Try to remember that time that Dad came home and found you taking apart the lawn mower to see how all the parts fit together.

And think really hard about his "I'll give you a reason to cry" shtick. If the kid's crying, he's probably torn up over something. And it probably makes sense, if you can figure out what it is. Yeah, you wouldn't collapse into a little lump of jelly because your favorite source of candy is closed. That's because you've learned how to cope. Man up and show your kid how to deal with such catastrophes (somehow, "They'll be open tomorrow" rings a little hollow).

I know the empathy thing's tough for you. But it's just another skill. Sooner or later you'll have to man up and figure it out. (Or at least start working on it...the sooner you do, the sooner I have a prayer of finally reaping the benefits. So maybe my future self should start sending me notes like this).

Honestly, the biggest drain on your life will be time, exhaustion, and boredom.

Time will be golden. You just think that time by yourself is valuable now. You have no idea. If you choose wisely, you just may be lucky enough to find a wife who appreciates alone-time enough to truly respect yours.

This means she needs hers too, you Nimrod!!

Make sure she gets it.

We won't even talk about exhaustion. You've lived with that your whole life. You're used to it, right?

Actually, the kid drove me to reasonable sleep hours recently. It was frustrating, because I really had tons of things that I wanted to accomplish. And yet I felt refreshed for the first time in years.

There may be something to this.

But really. Boredom. I can't believe I'm listening to this song *again*!

They little tyke's learning and experiencing at a rate that you can't possibly remember.

His brain's doing crazy things right now. It's forming loop-the-loops and roller-coasters and Patterns and wedges and growing rain forests of synapses that are just going to be thrown away because they weren't worth the effort.

So don't make it easy. Make it fun. Share. Laugh, and don't judge.

Most of all, above all, love.

Huh. I thought I was writing this to some hypothetical past version of myself, for the benefit of some hypothetical reader who might care about the wisdom I've gained over the years.

But apparently I was just writing this to myself.

Fire up those axons and dendrites. Learn!

Out Mal's Window: A Year in the Life of a Tree

We have been at Vogelfutter for a year now, and have really enjoyed the nature aspect of these apartments. Besides the road runners and other birds, rabbits, and coyotes, we've appreciated the greenbelt surrounding the complex.

Most of the trees immediately around the buildings are evergreens. But looking out Mal's window, you can see (to the far right) one taller tree that I believe is an oak. You can't tell from this angle, but we've walked out to it and it's in the middle of almost half an acre, all by itself.

I took this picture one evening soon after we'd moved in last year. (That building in the distance is ACC.)

By September of that year, the tree was thinning out from extreme heat and the onset of fall. One afternoon, under overcast skies, I took the picture below. The tree is at the very far right, almost out of the frame.

Austin doesn't have a fall season, per se. But one December as the sun was sinking in the west, it lit up the yellowing leaves remaining on the sole oak tree.

A few short weeks later, after the new year had started, the tree was bare for whatever winter we might have had.

So now the tree has come full circle, filling back out during the spring and ready to face the sauna of the summer that started in its strength a couple of weeks ago. I took this final picture out Mal's window today.

We've had a lot of rain, so everything is super thick and lush. It's such a tease, though. You look out that window and think, "Gosh, how beautiful! I should go out there." Then you open the door and feel that wet heat roll in, and you slam the door and swear not to leave again until Halloween.

So there you have it: a tree looks at 2015 and 2016. And we look at the tree. Happy summer, you guys. Hopefully it's more comfortable wherever you are.

A Good Saturday

We had a low key family day today. First, I was able to catch Mal doing what I described in yesterday's post. Here it is, in all of its "what the heck?" glory.

Then this evening, Mal and I took James out for an early Father's Day meal (Sundays are difficult for us, time-wise, between church, Mal's nap, and the fact that James doesn't like to leave the house after noon on Sunday because of introvert, powering-up-for-Monday stuff) at Hecho en Mexico. They were pretty busy, and it took quite some time for our food to come out. Fortunately, Mal was pretty chill until the last six minutes or so before his beans arrived. Although I don't love breastfeeding in public at his age and stage, it was actually a relief when he climbed up in my lap and wanted to nurse, because it meant I wasn't going to have to get up and chase him around the small dining room. I happened to be wearing a nursing shirt and was able to be what I thought was very discreet.

When we got done, though, I glanced over to see the family at the next table all looking at me. The mom elbowed the son, who was about 8 or 9 years old, and he said, very pleasantly, "I was just saying that I am kind of jealous of him because he gets to have mama's milk, and I sometimes want mama's milk."

I said, "Yeah, he's a fan. I guess we'll stop someday, but I don't see it happening soon.

His mom told me, "He was almost four."

I said to the boy, "Well, I'm glad you have happy memories of it. I hope this one does."

His mom said, "I honestly had no idea."

So it was an all-around positive exchange. I hope that my boy is as poised and articulate when he's older.

Happy Father's Day to this guy, who loves our kids well and who is the best partner in the world. I can't imagine doing any of this without him. <3

Stuff around Vogelfutter

Our patio is awesome. It's really hot at the moment, in more ways than one. For the past week or so, the temperature has been in the high/mid-90s with heat indexes in the 105-area, due to humidity and general awfulness. Also, two pigeons just tried to make babies. It was noisy, both in terms of their vocalization and the fact that they kept running into the bars, so it sounded like someone playing a giant xylophone. Badly.

James' mom visited last weekend, and she and Mal had a great time together. I told James that's what we need to raise a toddler: three adults. There's one to take care of the income, one to take care of the house and primary care of the kid, then an alternate who can jump in and play with the kid during meal preparation and errands.

Patsy got to visit Mal's gym a couple of times (once with Mal's cousin, Tian, in tow), meet Mal's friend Luna while visiting our church, eat at a couple of our favorite places (Kerbey Lane on the patio was such a perfect breakfast for Mal... there was even a 17-month-old who wouldn't sit still except to nurse sitting right beside us!), and see a lot of Mal's nakedness. That's kind of our life right now. That kid hates wearing clothes.

Speaking of that, Mal has had what I've come to believe is a heat rash for like two months now. It started out as what I thought were ant bites, but now it's all over his abdomen, upper legs, and some on his upper arms. I was just reading about it here, and they recommend staying out of the heat and humidity. Okay, thanks. That's really helpful advice here in Austin. The rash doesn't seem to bother him, so we're just putting some Gold Bond on it when it looks red, and waiting it out otherwise.

Mal is trying to talk more, repeating words we say in his own way. One word that he has down pat is "die." Like when he wants to climb up on the cabinet, and I say, "Be careful, Mal. I don't want you to die." Or, "Get down from there or you're going to fall and die!" So now, while he's climbing, he gleefully repeats, "Die die die!" over and over again.

When Patsy was here, Mal started interjecting every time I'd say "James." He'd respond with, "Daddy! Daddy!" and the sign. I guess he knows his dad's name. He still won't say "Mommy," though. 

For some reason, I'm famished like all of the time. I don't know if it's because Mal is still nursing so much or because I'm just trained from the past two years of eating to, well, eat. But I am trying to hold out until dinner (which might be at 6:30 and might be at 8:45; we never really know until James texts that he's on his way home). I had a good breakfast, a snack, a great lunch, an afternoon snack, and, honestly... It's like I've lost the ability to sustain a hungry feeling. I go from mild stomach growl to beginning hypoglycemic occurrence really quickly. 

D recently bought herself a MacBook Pro. She was wanting to write more, and said that she felt like writing sitting on her bed or a comfy chair would be nice. She was also able to hook her drawing pad up to the Mac, so she can do that from the mattress, too. She is rarely on her desktop anymore, except for when her cousin TJ comes over to game. She also just read almost entirely through the Harry Potter series. She's toward the middle of book seven, but the book light I lent her has dead batteries, and she has been consuming the books at night. I need to get her a headboard-mounted lamp.

Done. Gosh, I love the internet.

Today, I was cleaning up my email folders. I actually moved the "writing" folder to my archive. It's kind of sad, but it's a season. I'm sure when Mal is 5 or 8 or 12 or 19, I'll get to write again. For now, the blog is the thing, and I'm really fortunate that I get to watch yet another amazing kid grow up.

Making  friends at Mozart's.

Now that he's older, I think we're ready to try story time at the Bee Cave library again. Maybe we'll hit it next week. This week got away from me, plus I have been so tired. I told James the other day that I didn't feel motivated to do anything, but once I mentally listed everything I'd done that day, I'd done quite a lot! I guess I just didn't feel like it. Anyway, last year, Mal couldn't sit at all to listen to the stories, but I feel like now maybe he would. He doesn't sit to listen to the 5-minute children's message in church, though, so I could be wrong. If all else fails, there is a splash pad right across the street from the Bee Cave library, so we'll have a nice morning, regardless.

One final thing Mal is really into right now: bringing everything from somewhere to somewhere (usually someone) else. It started one night when I was trying to get Mal to go to bed. He had gotten up and gone into the living room where James was hanging out. I stayed in bed. A few minutes later, Mal brought me one of the blocks from the set we keep in an ottoman storage thing. I said, "Thanks, but I don't want a block." However, he sat it on the side of the bed and ran back into the living room. A few moments later, he came back with another block. He set it on the bed, then sped back into the living room. This happened over and over again. 

Eventually, I asked James, "Is he going to bring every block in here?" James said, "It looks like it." I opened my eyes and saw that he'd laid each side by side, so that the to open sides of the bed (the foot and one side) were both bordered with nearly 40 blocks. When there were about 5 blocks left, Mal decided to drag the ottoman into the bedroom instead.

When his grandma was here, he pulled everything out of his kitchen and put it on her bed for her. Last night, while Mal's dad was in the restroom and I was in bed, Mal brought me my brush, then my comb, then some leave-in conditioner, then my pick, etc. He just zooms from one place to the other, then back and again. I think it's his way of running off some excess energy? He's not as big on putting everything back, but it's pretty entertaining to watch, anyway.