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.
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