(Quinn organizing his trick-or-treat haul.)
I think the kids are about at the end of their Halloween candy. We
try to have them just eat it and be done with it as early as possible,
but Mona is oddly good at delayed gratification and she still had some
candy saved from Fourth of July
that she mixed into her bucket, so it’s hard to know for sure. My kids
stash stuff in weird places, like squirrels, so I really don’t know at
this point.
But the Halloween decorations came down this weekend, and the pumpkins are gone, which is my cue to start preparing for birthday season. I can’t believe Quinn is going to be five this month. When I started this blog he was still two (back in the days when he did map puzzles), and it amazes me how much he can still be my baby and such a big kid at the same time.
I’ve been thinking about all the things that have changed in the past year, what’s different and what isn’t. I honestly believe that now, more than a year since Ian returned from Iraq,
that Quinn doesn’t remember the deployment. It’s just too long ago in
proportion to his relatively short life so far, and there are too many
new things each day crowding out old memories. He’s not sure what we
mean when we talk about possibly returning to Incrediroll,
I don’t think he’d recognize anything in Chuck E Cheese at this point,
and I would bet he has few memories of our old house. So I really
believe that the idea of his dad not being around all the time is
foreign now. Which is great.
Quinn is a stubborn little guy. Very smart, very dear, but when he
had it in his head that he didn’t like his dad when Ian returned from
the last tour of duty, he stuck to that with a tenacity that was
impressive. The most disheartening manifestation of that was at the
school pickup. I maybe pick Quinn up after half-day kindergarten once
or twice a week. Usually it’s Ian. All last year I was greeted with
hugs and love and squeals and smiles. Ian was greeted with silence on a
good day and a tantrum on a bad one. Quinn would slump when he saw his
dad, and plod along slowly.
We decided on the days Ian picked up Quinn he should bring him
something special, so we let our son pick out Pop Tarts at the store and
Ian would have one along for a snack for the ride home after school.
If I picked up Quinn there would be no Pop Tart. I figured at some
point Quinn would associate his dad with Pop Tarts and be happy to see
him and it would be a start. A Pavlovian start, but something in the
right direction at least.
But it didn’t seem to work. All last year Quinn stuck to his guns
and would never say it was good to see his dad. His behavior improved
toward the end, but was never particularly positive.
This year has been better. Since I work outside of the house more
often than Ian does, he’s still the main stay at home parent and the
kids are accustomed to having their dad around. It’s so much better
than having their dad be like some fictional character we talk about and
pretend is a part of our lives I can’t even tell you. I think back to
that and still feel great relief that things now are so different. But
getting here has be gradual. Which is good, especially when dealing
with a smart and stubborn little boy.
Last week when Ian went to help out on a field trip with Aden’s
class, I got to pick up Quinn at the half day and take him with me on
errands. We had a lovely time, returning things at the fabric store and
picking up groceries and splitting a KitKat bar outside of Target. But
the best part was at the pickup itself.
Quinn bounced in the line when he spotted me on the playground, ran
to me when he was finally released, gave me a huge hug with both his
arms and legs and he laughed and he smiled and made me feel like the
luckiest mom in the world. Then as we started to walk away from the
school Quinn went slumpy. He still held my hand but he drooped and
moved slowly. I asked what was wrong, and he said sadly, “It’s just, I
like it better when dad comes to get me.”
Part of me realized that I should be hurt, because what mom wants be
feel rejected like that? But I had to turn my head so Quinn wouldn’t
see me smiling. I loved hearing those words. The amount of parental
affection has been so lopsided that there is no sense of loss from my
end if it shifts at all. I’ve been waiting for it to even out for so
long.
Because I couldn’t help it, I asked Quinn why he preferred his dad at
the pickup. (The girls are very clear that they’d rather have their
dad get them at the end of the day because he lets them play outside
there as long as they like. I always have eighteen places to be and
must leave so I am not the preferred parent in that scenario, either.)
Without hesitation Quinn said, “Pop Tart.”
So it did work. It took a long time, and Quinn sees through the game
a bit, but when he spots his dad after school it makes him happy. I
know at some point that will be true even without the promise of a Pop
Tart. I love my guys. Life is good, and getting better.
(Although I did finally find the limit of my son’s love for me. He
draws it at Almond Joy bars, which when he was laying out all his
Halloween candy he declared to me he would not share. That rejection I
take a little harder!)
My own space apart from the babble of the internet
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Things That Are Better in the Dark (Babble)
I’m working on two new violins right now. One is an instrument I’m
building to enter in a Violin Society of America competition next fall,
and the other I’m making on commission for an out of state client. It’s
convenient to build two instruments
in tandem because if you’re going to go to the trouble of setting up
specialized tools and materials for a particular step you may as well do
it twice while the blade is sharp or the clamping setup is in place or
the hide glue is fresh.
The only downside to doing two instruments at once is that the unpleasant steps are then doubled. I just suffered through one of my least favorite parts of violin building which is “edge thicknessing.” (My spell check doesn’t like it, but that’s what we call it.) It’s the tedious step of gouging, then finger planing, then filing the edges of the rough top and back plates down to 4.0mm thick for the spruce, and 3.8mm thick for the maple. It takes FOREVER and is one of the few steps I’ve entertained the idea of figuring out how to do with a machine rather than by hand because I find it a bit maddening. And it’s sort of awful to get through all of those edges on one violin only to do it on another right away.
But whatever. That’s the end of my luthier whining for today. Because the step right after edge thicknessing? One of the best parts ever! Arching. Arching is carving that smoothed, curved shape onto the top and back of the violin. Many people I talk to who know nothing about woodworking or instrument making assume that rounded shape on those large surfaces of a violin are actually bent into place, but it’s really achieved by taking all that wood down in steps, starting with a large gouge, then moving to very small planes (called ‘finger planes’, the smallest of which that I use has a blade only 8mm wide) and eventually to scrapers.
I love arching. It’s sculptural, yet vital to the final sound of the instrument. And it’s a skill that there is no good way to learn without someone to show you, so I feel the value of my training in that step over any other. You have to learn how check the surface of the plates by touch, and combine what your fingers tell you with what your eyes are seeing. The visual part is all a matter of how to control light. Which really means controlling dark.
Arching requires using shadows to see all the curves properly. To see what I need to see I have to sit in a very dark room with just one desk lamp set at a raking angle to my work. Tipping the plate around various ways in the light causes shadows to dip and slide across the wood, revealing bumps or low spots or asymmetry.
The vast majority of the violin making I do, I do at home. But sometimes if there is a step that’s portable enough to bring with me to the violin store and I suspect it’s going to be a slow day there, I bring my work along. The only problem with the store, though, is it’s bright. Because we are a business and we need to look open if we are, in fact, open. So I can do very rough shaping there, but not much. I removed a lot of excess wood from my back plates at work yesterday, but did all my finishing steps at home, at night, in the dark.
Some things are just better in the dark.
For instance, this Halloween weekend my kids got to trick-or-treat twice. The first time on Saturday night in Bay View, which is our little area on the South side of Milwaukee, which does nighttime trick-or-treat. The second time was Sunday afternoon (which is when the rest of the city of Milwaukee does trick-or-treat) up in a friend’s more affluent neighborhood on the North side of town. My friend’s neighborhood is beautiful and friendly, and this was the second year in a row she invited us up to join them and of course my kids were thrilled.
Now, our own neighborhood may not be in the wealthy part of the city, but it knows how to do Halloween. We get about 400 trick-or-treaters at our house every year, and go through several massive bags of candy before we finally have to shut our lights off. Newcomers to the neighborhood used to only buying a bag or two of little candy bars to hand out wherever they used to live are always stunned by the activity and end up making quick runs down the street to Target to restock. (Our Target is very busy during trick-or-treat.) My own kids usually do about two or three blocks and then choose to head home. Mona in particular would rather hand out candy than collect it, so they enjoy the candy but aren’t obsessed by it. They primarily like being in costume and seeing what other kids are wearing, and the daytime trick-or-treat is better for that.
So when I asked my kids which trick-or-treat they preferred I wasn’t sure what they’d say. Turns out they unanimously preferred the one in our own neighborhood. The reason? The dark. Trick-or-treat is simply better in the dark.
Movies are better in the dark. Part of the reason our Friday Night Movie Night tradition kind of falls by the wayside in the summer isn’t just the schedule, it’s that there is too much light. The kids want to play outside until dark, and in June it’s so late by the time the sun goes down that there is no way to stay up for a movie at that point. Trying to gather for a movie when it’s still light out just feels odd. My favorite moment of movie night is when we are all snuggled up, popcorn ready, and Mona runs to switch off the light.
And finally, Halloween also happens to be the anniversary of when my husband and I met. My first conversation with Ian was in the dark at a party. The lack of light probably made it easier for us to talk. We were figuratively in the dark, too, knowing nothing about each other that night and just starting to get acquainted.
(And not that I discovered this on that particular Halloween, but kissing? Definitely better in the dark.)
The only downside to doing two instruments at once is that the unpleasant steps are then doubled. I just suffered through one of my least favorite parts of violin building which is “edge thicknessing.” (My spell check doesn’t like it, but that’s what we call it.) It’s the tedious step of gouging, then finger planing, then filing the edges of the rough top and back plates down to 4.0mm thick for the spruce, and 3.8mm thick for the maple. It takes FOREVER and is one of the few steps I’ve entertained the idea of figuring out how to do with a machine rather than by hand because I find it a bit maddening. And it’s sort of awful to get through all of those edges on one violin only to do it on another right away.
But whatever. That’s the end of my luthier whining for today. Because the step right after edge thicknessing? One of the best parts ever! Arching. Arching is carving that smoothed, curved shape onto the top and back of the violin. Many people I talk to who know nothing about woodworking or instrument making assume that rounded shape on those large surfaces of a violin are actually bent into place, but it’s really achieved by taking all that wood down in steps, starting with a large gouge, then moving to very small planes (called ‘finger planes’, the smallest of which that I use has a blade only 8mm wide) and eventually to scrapers.
I love arching. It’s sculptural, yet vital to the final sound of the instrument. And it’s a skill that there is no good way to learn without someone to show you, so I feel the value of my training in that step over any other. You have to learn how check the surface of the plates by touch, and combine what your fingers tell you with what your eyes are seeing. The visual part is all a matter of how to control light. Which really means controlling dark.
Arching requires using shadows to see all the curves properly. To see what I need to see I have to sit in a very dark room with just one desk lamp set at a raking angle to my work. Tipping the plate around various ways in the light causes shadows to dip and slide across the wood, revealing bumps or low spots or asymmetry.
The vast majority of the violin making I do, I do at home. But sometimes if there is a step that’s portable enough to bring with me to the violin store and I suspect it’s going to be a slow day there, I bring my work along. The only problem with the store, though, is it’s bright. Because we are a business and we need to look open if we are, in fact, open. So I can do very rough shaping there, but not much. I removed a lot of excess wood from my back plates at work yesterday, but did all my finishing steps at home, at night, in the dark.
Some things are just better in the dark.
For instance, this Halloween weekend my kids got to trick-or-treat twice. The first time on Saturday night in Bay View, which is our little area on the South side of Milwaukee, which does nighttime trick-or-treat. The second time was Sunday afternoon (which is when the rest of the city of Milwaukee does trick-or-treat) up in a friend’s more affluent neighborhood on the North side of town. My friend’s neighborhood is beautiful and friendly, and this was the second year in a row she invited us up to join them and of course my kids were thrilled.
Now, our own neighborhood may not be in the wealthy part of the city, but it knows how to do Halloween. We get about 400 trick-or-treaters at our house every year, and go through several massive bags of candy before we finally have to shut our lights off. Newcomers to the neighborhood used to only buying a bag or two of little candy bars to hand out wherever they used to live are always stunned by the activity and end up making quick runs down the street to Target to restock. (Our Target is very busy during trick-or-treat.) My own kids usually do about two or three blocks and then choose to head home. Mona in particular would rather hand out candy than collect it, so they enjoy the candy but aren’t obsessed by it. They primarily like being in costume and seeing what other kids are wearing, and the daytime trick-or-treat is better for that.
So when I asked my kids which trick-or-treat they preferred I wasn’t sure what they’d say. Turns out they unanimously preferred the one in our own neighborhood. The reason? The dark. Trick-or-treat is simply better in the dark.
Movies are better in the dark. Part of the reason our Friday Night Movie Night tradition kind of falls by the wayside in the summer isn’t just the schedule, it’s that there is too much light. The kids want to play outside until dark, and in June it’s so late by the time the sun goes down that there is no way to stay up for a movie at that point. Trying to gather for a movie when it’s still light out just feels odd. My favorite moment of movie night is when we are all snuggled up, popcorn ready, and Mona runs to switch off the light.
And finally, Halloween also happens to be the anniversary of when my husband and I met. My first conversation with Ian was in the dark at a party. The lack of light probably made it easier for us to talk. We were figuratively in the dark, too, knowing nothing about each other that night and just starting to get acquainted.
(And not that I discovered this on that particular Halloween, but kissing? Definitely better in the dark.)
Saturday, October 29, 2011
And Finally, the Porcupine (Babble)
I started Aden’s porcupine costume first and finished it last, but I
got it done just under the wire before the Halloween dance on Thursday.
(I expected to have all day Wednesday to work on it at my leisure, but I hadn’t factored in an ambulance ride.)
I made Aden a basic brown, fleece jumpsuit with a detachable back piece and tail to glue quills to (in case we ever need to wash it). I cut the quills out of cushion foam on my bandsaw, and then spray painted them:
Aden then helped me position and hold the quills while I attached them to the fabric with a hot glue gun.
Then I just used safety pins to put the back piece with all the quills onto the jumpsuit and tadah! Porcupine! The costume is not very interesting from the front (except for Aden’s dimples), but from the back and the side I think she’s looking very quill-y.
So my kiddos are all set for trick or treat tonight. And again in a different part of town tomorrow. And then nothing happens on Halloween proper which still bugs me to pieces, but at least arson isn’t considered a holiday tradition here like back in Detroit, so I’ll just be thankful.
I haven’t seen any other porcupines, crocodiles, or thirteen-lined-ground-squirrels, so they probably won’t get lost in the crowds.
(My kids doing early trick or treat at our old house across the street because the neighbors gave them special cookies.)
Happy Halloween!
I made Aden a basic brown, fleece jumpsuit with a detachable back piece and tail to glue quills to (in case we ever need to wash it). I cut the quills out of cushion foam on my bandsaw, and then spray painted them:
Aden then helped me position and hold the quills while I attached them to the fabric with a hot glue gun.
Then I just used safety pins to put the back piece with all the quills onto the jumpsuit and tadah! Porcupine! The costume is not very interesting from the front (except for Aden’s dimples), but from the back and the side I think she’s looking very quill-y.
So my kiddos are all set for trick or treat tonight. And again in a different part of town tomorrow. And then nothing happens on Halloween proper which still bugs me to pieces, but at least arson isn’t considered a holiday tradition here like back in Detroit, so I’ll just be thankful.
I haven’t seen any other porcupines, crocodiles, or thirteen-lined-ground-squirrels, so they probably won’t get lost in the crowds.
(My kids doing early trick or treat at our old house across the street because the neighbors gave them special cookies.)
Happy Halloween!
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
A Call Nobody Wants to Get (Babble)
“Quinn is having some kind of seizure here in the school office and we’re calling 911.”
Are there words that would make me move faster? I can’t imagine what.
I had just gotten back from swimming at the Y and was still in my sweatpants, my hair was soaking wet. I didn’t have on socks. I called Ian at the violin store and told him what had just been told to me as I jammed on my shoes and ran out the door. I left both doors unlocked and the phone off the hook.
Every light was red between my house and the school. All the cars I was behind seemed infuriatingly slow. There was a firetruck outside the school, lights still flashing. I parked directly behind where Ian had parked the minivan moments before, and ran all the way into the building.
The copy room off the main office was filled with people: paramedics, the principal, the school nurse, my husband…. And my little Quinn unconscious on a blue stretcher, an oxygen mask on his face. I leaned down on the floor near my son and realized I was shaking.
It’s hard to even describe what a sight like that does to you. You want to stay calm and can’t. You want to be positive and your mind darts to horrible places. You are completely absorbed in the moment and strangely feel yourself slipping somewhere else. You wonder what comes next but you don’t want to know.
Apparently while Quinn’s class was walking to the library he started acting fatigued and whiny, when all of a sudden he went limp and passed out. Luckily, of all the people in the school, Quinn happened to be walking next to the nurse, who caught him as he fell so he didn’t hit his head. She rushed him to the office where they called our emergency contact when our home and work lines were busy (because at that moment Ian and I were talking to each other), then finally got a hold of us.
The paramedics were efficient and very nice. They recommended we take an ambulance to Children’s Hospital. They asked me if I thought as his mom I could get Quinn to wake up.
I squeezed his hand and said his name. His eyes opened a little as if he were very sleepy, then closed again. I kept talking to him and he opened his eyes a little more. The first thing that got him to respond to me? When I asked him if he knew what should be arriving in the mail today or tomorrow. He answered quietly, eyes still shut, “Latin Is Fun Book I.” *
Eventually Quinn was awake enough to climb into my lap. He was not very responsive to the paramedics and their questions, but he also doesn’t like crowds or being the center of attention, so we assured people this didn’t look out of character to us, even though he wasn’t showing the kind of energetic signs that they would find promising. He was happy to get onto the rolling bed they needed to strap him to for the ride in the ambulance. They gave him a truly all-purpose bracelet that neither of us were crazy about:
The ride to the hospital was blissfully uneventful. The EMT told me based on the facts as he saw them that he doubted Quinn had had a seizure. He hadn’t trembled or gone stiff. He hadn’t lost control of his bladder or bowels. The EMT said he would term it a syncopal episode–a general fainting. The last time Quinn was in the hospital it was for dehydration as a result of his being sick. Quinn’s been sick for about a week, but seemed to be doing much better. He had one night of fever several days ago, was fine in the morning, and has just had a lingering cough but not bad enough to keep him from doing his normal routine. Until today. He hadn’t had anything to drink, and had eaten only a small bite of toast. Quinn isn’t much of a breakfast person and often doesn’t feel like eating. Starting tomorrow we will make sure he at least has a cup of juice and a bite of something before we send him off to school, even if he’s not in the mood.
The Children’s Hospital here is very good, and people were helpful, but Quinn was back to his old self by the time we got a room there. Ian met us, and brought me my laptop and DVD’s for Quinn to watch if we needed them. Our son was understandably a low priority, as he should have been compared to other children I saw there, but we waited for over three hours before we gave up on seeing the last doctor. Nurses listened to him breathe, his blood sugar was perfect, his blood pressure was back to normal, a doctor said she didn’t have an explanation but that Quinn seemed fine to her, and that was enough.
(Bored boy.)
We played I Spy until everything there was to spy with our little eyes had been spied. Quinn ate animal crackers, saving the best animals for last (those being the owl, the turtle, and a mystery animal he decided was a beaver). We made him drink some juice, and he even had a Pop Tart that Ian had brought along. But it was time to go home and pick our other children up from school and get some real food into Quinn. If I really felt the last doctor was likely to say something new we would have stayed, but I just didn’t think it was worth making our day even more complicated than it had already been. I never made it to work (my assistant filled in for me–thanks Robyn!), I didn’t get any of the projects or errands done when I was expecting to do them…. Hell, I never even got properly dressed. It was time to go home.
I told Quinn I wasn’t going to go in to work, that I was just going to stay with him for the afternoon, and he cheered. He read me his books about butterflies, dolphins and goldfish that we picked up at the last book fair. He ate an egg and some toast. He drew on his white board and talked and jumped and danced and did all his regular Quinn things. He was just my sweet boy, like nothing had happened.
So now I’m both relieved and wary. I’m glad Quinn is fine. No, I’m thrilled beyond measure that he’s fine. But, what was that? The whole episode has left me anxious and uncertain. Quinn looks great now, but I’m afraid to let him out of my sight. I don’t think he will faint again anytime soon, but since we don’t know for sure what caused it, it’s not safe to make predictions. But I suppose that’s true of parenting all the time anyway.
* An explanation about Quinn and “Latin Is Fun Book I”: Quinn reads so well for a four-year-old my mom suggested recently that maybe he might like learning another language. I asked him what he thought, if he’d like to learn Spanish or French or German…. He didn’t show any interest until I told him there were also some old languages. We talked about those for a minute and he decided on Latin. I have no idea what he thinks it will mean to learn Latin or why that’s what he chose, but we went online and looked up Latin books for kids and the one he wanted was Latin Is Fun Book I. He was excited that there was also a Latin Is Fun Book II available. We both wondered at what point Latin ceases to be fun.
Today I am just grateful that we will find out together.
(Happy Quinn, flopped in my lap before we even left the hospital room. Does that look like a kid who should be taking bed space from sick children? I didn’t think so either. What a day.)
Are there words that would make me move faster? I can’t imagine what.
I had just gotten back from swimming at the Y and was still in my sweatpants, my hair was soaking wet. I didn’t have on socks. I called Ian at the violin store and told him what had just been told to me as I jammed on my shoes and ran out the door. I left both doors unlocked and the phone off the hook.
Every light was red between my house and the school. All the cars I was behind seemed infuriatingly slow. There was a firetruck outside the school, lights still flashing. I parked directly behind where Ian had parked the minivan moments before, and ran all the way into the building.
The copy room off the main office was filled with people: paramedics, the principal, the school nurse, my husband…. And my little Quinn unconscious on a blue stretcher, an oxygen mask on his face. I leaned down on the floor near my son and realized I was shaking.
It’s hard to even describe what a sight like that does to you. You want to stay calm and can’t. You want to be positive and your mind darts to horrible places. You are completely absorbed in the moment and strangely feel yourself slipping somewhere else. You wonder what comes next but you don’t want to know.
Apparently while Quinn’s class was walking to the library he started acting fatigued and whiny, when all of a sudden he went limp and passed out. Luckily, of all the people in the school, Quinn happened to be walking next to the nurse, who caught him as he fell so he didn’t hit his head. She rushed him to the office where they called our emergency contact when our home and work lines were busy (because at that moment Ian and I were talking to each other), then finally got a hold of us.
The paramedics were efficient and very nice. They recommended we take an ambulance to Children’s Hospital. They asked me if I thought as his mom I could get Quinn to wake up.
I squeezed his hand and said his name. His eyes opened a little as if he were very sleepy, then closed again. I kept talking to him and he opened his eyes a little more. The first thing that got him to respond to me? When I asked him if he knew what should be arriving in the mail today or tomorrow. He answered quietly, eyes still shut, “Latin Is Fun Book I.” *
Eventually Quinn was awake enough to climb into my lap. He was not very responsive to the paramedics and their questions, but he also doesn’t like crowds or being the center of attention, so we assured people this didn’t look out of character to us, even though he wasn’t showing the kind of energetic signs that they would find promising. He was happy to get onto the rolling bed they needed to strap him to for the ride in the ambulance. They gave him a truly all-purpose bracelet that neither of us were crazy about:
The ride to the hospital was blissfully uneventful. The EMT told me based on the facts as he saw them that he doubted Quinn had had a seizure. He hadn’t trembled or gone stiff. He hadn’t lost control of his bladder or bowels. The EMT said he would term it a syncopal episode–a general fainting. The last time Quinn was in the hospital it was for dehydration as a result of his being sick. Quinn’s been sick for about a week, but seemed to be doing much better. He had one night of fever several days ago, was fine in the morning, and has just had a lingering cough but not bad enough to keep him from doing his normal routine. Until today. He hadn’t had anything to drink, and had eaten only a small bite of toast. Quinn isn’t much of a breakfast person and often doesn’t feel like eating. Starting tomorrow we will make sure he at least has a cup of juice and a bite of something before we send him off to school, even if he’s not in the mood.
The Children’s Hospital here is very good, and people were helpful, but Quinn was back to his old self by the time we got a room there. Ian met us, and brought me my laptop and DVD’s for Quinn to watch if we needed them. Our son was understandably a low priority, as he should have been compared to other children I saw there, but we waited for over three hours before we gave up on seeing the last doctor. Nurses listened to him breathe, his blood sugar was perfect, his blood pressure was back to normal, a doctor said she didn’t have an explanation but that Quinn seemed fine to her, and that was enough.
(Bored boy.)
We played I Spy until everything there was to spy with our little eyes had been spied. Quinn ate animal crackers, saving the best animals for last (those being the owl, the turtle, and a mystery animal he decided was a beaver). We made him drink some juice, and he even had a Pop Tart that Ian had brought along. But it was time to go home and pick our other children up from school and get some real food into Quinn. If I really felt the last doctor was likely to say something new we would have stayed, but I just didn’t think it was worth making our day even more complicated than it had already been. I never made it to work (my assistant filled in for me–thanks Robyn!), I didn’t get any of the projects or errands done when I was expecting to do them…. Hell, I never even got properly dressed. It was time to go home.
I told Quinn I wasn’t going to go in to work, that I was just going to stay with him for the afternoon, and he cheered. He read me his books about butterflies, dolphins and goldfish that we picked up at the last book fair. He ate an egg and some toast. He drew on his white board and talked and jumped and danced and did all his regular Quinn things. He was just my sweet boy, like nothing had happened.
So now I’m both relieved and wary. I’m glad Quinn is fine. No, I’m thrilled beyond measure that he’s fine. But, what was that? The whole episode has left me anxious and uncertain. Quinn looks great now, but I’m afraid to let him out of my sight. I don’t think he will faint again anytime soon, but since we don’t know for sure what caused it, it’s not safe to make predictions. But I suppose that’s true of parenting all the time anyway.
* An explanation about Quinn and “Latin Is Fun Book I”: Quinn reads so well for a four-year-old my mom suggested recently that maybe he might like learning another language. I asked him what he thought, if he’d like to learn Spanish or French or German…. He didn’t show any interest until I told him there were also some old languages. We talked about those for a minute and he decided on Latin. I have no idea what he thinks it will mean to learn Latin or why that’s what he chose, but we went online and looked up Latin books for kids and the one he wanted was Latin Is Fun Book I. He was excited that there was also a Latin Is Fun Book II available. We both wondered at what point Latin ceases to be fun.
Today I am just grateful that we will find out together.
(Happy Quinn, flopped in my lap before we even left the hospital room. Does that look like a kid who should be taking bed space from sick children? I didn’t think so either. What a day.)
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Want to See the Crocodiles? (Babble)
I’m glad I started my kids’ Halloween costumes early this year or I would be freaking out about now. It’s been a hectic month, and we just got back from a weekend trip to the cottage
where we shut it down for the winter. (I love fall, and Michigan is
beautiful this time of year. Check out Mona and Quinn on the path to
the lake. Looks like a painting to me:
It was a brief but lovely trip.)
So between life and work in general and a few days out of town, squeezing in costume making time has been tricky, but I’m finding moments somewhere. I made sure to finish the thirteen-lined-ground-squirrel costume before we left, and I recently finished the crocodile, too. (I have a few more days before the dance at school to get Aden’s porcupine outfit finished, but the rainy weather is not cooperating in terms of getting her quills spray-painted.)
In any case, want to see the crocodile?
The trickiest part was Mona’s snout. She wanted it to be detachable, and it took me a little while to figure out how to do that. I finally found a somewhat rigid surgical mask at Science Surplus and built my cushion foam jaws around that. Seems to work. The teeth are made of some cheap air-drying clay I found at Target. Glue seems to be holding them in place so far, but I can always make more teeth if they start to come out. (The tooth fairy isn’t responsible for lost fake teeth, is she?)
That’s the surgical mask glued inside so Mona has room to breathe, and an extra piece of elastic to keep the thing around her head.
Mona was very clear about wanting a hood, as well as the detachable snout. She has specific ideas about visual things, so I was worried I wouldn’t put this all together in a way she would like, but she’s very happy with it. The hard part is keeping her out of it before the school dance and trick-or-treat, but after that she can wear it to choir for all I care.
(Now to tackle those porcupine quills….)
It was a brief but lovely trip.)
So between life and work in general and a few days out of town, squeezing in costume making time has been tricky, but I’m finding moments somewhere. I made sure to finish the thirteen-lined-ground-squirrel costume before we left, and I recently finished the crocodile, too. (I have a few more days before the dance at school to get Aden’s porcupine outfit finished, but the rainy weather is not cooperating in terms of getting her quills spray-painted.)
In any case, want to see the crocodile?
The trickiest part was Mona’s snout. She wanted it to be detachable, and it took me a little while to figure out how to do that. I finally found a somewhat rigid surgical mask at Science Surplus and built my cushion foam jaws around that. Seems to work. The teeth are made of some cheap air-drying clay I found at Target. Glue seems to be holding them in place so far, but I can always make more teeth if they start to come out. (The tooth fairy isn’t responsible for lost fake teeth, is she?)
That’s the surgical mask glued inside so Mona has room to breathe, and an extra piece of elastic to keep the thing around her head.
Mona was very clear about wanting a hood, as well as the detachable snout. She has specific ideas about visual things, so I was worried I wouldn’t put this all together in a way she would like, but she’s very happy with it. The hard part is keeping her out of it before the school dance and trick-or-treat, but after that she can wear it to choir for all I care.
(Now to tackle those porcupine quills….)
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Cling-A-Thon (Babble)
I find myself extra aware lately of my children getting older. There are little breakthroughs
that happen here and there that add up to a whole new way of life.
For instance, Quinn has finally mastered his seat belt in both of our cars, and Aden no longer requires a booster, so the other day when I told them we all needed to get into the car, I had very little to do with it. I told them to get into the car, and they did it. I was only responsible for getting myself in and buckled. No helping anyone else into a car seat. No leaning in after anyone to deal with buckles or straps. I just…got in the car, and all the kids got in themselves. It’s not a big production anymore.
When I think back to Ian’s first deployment and it was me having to take all the kids everywhere all the time, getting Aden into the way back, then helping Mona with her belt, securing a rear-facing Quinn, sometimes during rain and often during snow…. Being able to just say, “Get in the car” and have it happen seems like some space age advance akin to magic. So parts of this ‘my kids are getting older’ thing are great. Other parts I’m not so sure about yet.
Aden is tall for her age, and even though she’s only nine it’s easy to see her as the teenager she will be all too soon. Teenagers need to pull away from their parents and I understand that. I remember doing that. But right now Aden still loves me in the kind of way where she still wants to cling to me when given the chance. She’s snuggly and sweet and likes hanging out near me, chattering about things she’s learned on nature shows while I clear dishes and wipe down counters. When will that change? When will the idea of crawling into my lap seem silly in a way that’s unappealing instead of funny? I don’t know. I hope not for a while.
Last night Quinn slept with me because he was sick. He came home from school not feeling well, went to bed, and pretty much slept until the next morning. He was achey and had a fever, but today he seems like his regular self. His cheeks are no longer flushed and he’s up and eating and telling me things every few seconds. I asked him if he wanted to go to school or stay home. He lit up and said, “Stay home!” (The boy loves to stay home. He’s filling out Mad Libs next to me as I type, and I have to stop every few minutes to read his latest silly story, so pardon me if this post has an odd flow to it or accidentally includes random plural nouns.)
Anyway, we’ve been lucky on the uninterrupted sleep front for some time, and it was weird having Quinn back in my bed. Ian knows how anxious I get when any of the kids are sick, so he usually finds someplace else to take his pillow and lets whatever kid needs the snuggle time curl up with me. At least one of us gets sleep that way. (That one of us was not me.)
I’m amazed how in an unconscious stupor Quinn can find me in the bed. Every time I felt it was safe to roll away because the boy was breathing better or sleeping more comfortably, seconds later he’d be stuck to me like glue. His favorite place to gravitate is to wedge his head right under my chin and throw and an arm or leg or both over my body. It’s like his natural state of being is to cling to me. When he holds my hand, he doesn’t just hold my hand. He holds my hand with both of his hands, and leans his body against my arm and rests his head against my elbow as we walk.
Mona gets clingy too. She loves to curl up with me under covers and she’s the only one of my kids who likes to give kisses.
I appreciate all the hugs and cuddles more now that I’m at work a few days a week and have time to miss them. It drove me a little bonkers when I was home all the time and someone was pressed against me every minute of the day. Sometimes it drives me bonkers now.
But last night when I leaned over Aden to kiss her goodnight in her bed, she clutched my arm and didn’t want to let go. She smiled and giggled and hung on tight. It was cute for about one second and then I told her to let me go. She didn’t want to. So I had to tell her in a serious voice to release my arm so I could go kiss Mona and then go tend to her sick brother. Aden let me go with reluctance, and part of me felt bad. Of course I couldn’t stay with her on her bed all night, or even another ten minutes, but how nice that Aden still wants me to.
Even as I turn the clingy moments away, or lie awake wishing I could scrape my child off me long enough to get some sleep, I know how lucky I am to have them so close. I’m glad they are growing up. I’m just not looking forward to them growing away too much. I like the cling-a-thon.
(Me and my Aden at my last Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra concert a few weeks ago.)
For instance, Quinn has finally mastered his seat belt in both of our cars, and Aden no longer requires a booster, so the other day when I told them we all needed to get into the car, I had very little to do with it. I told them to get into the car, and they did it. I was only responsible for getting myself in and buckled. No helping anyone else into a car seat. No leaning in after anyone to deal with buckles or straps. I just…got in the car, and all the kids got in themselves. It’s not a big production anymore.
When I think back to Ian’s first deployment and it was me having to take all the kids everywhere all the time, getting Aden into the way back, then helping Mona with her belt, securing a rear-facing Quinn, sometimes during rain and often during snow…. Being able to just say, “Get in the car” and have it happen seems like some space age advance akin to magic. So parts of this ‘my kids are getting older’ thing are great. Other parts I’m not so sure about yet.
Aden is tall for her age, and even though she’s only nine it’s easy to see her as the teenager she will be all too soon. Teenagers need to pull away from their parents and I understand that. I remember doing that. But right now Aden still loves me in the kind of way where she still wants to cling to me when given the chance. She’s snuggly and sweet and likes hanging out near me, chattering about things she’s learned on nature shows while I clear dishes and wipe down counters. When will that change? When will the idea of crawling into my lap seem silly in a way that’s unappealing instead of funny? I don’t know. I hope not for a while.
Last night Quinn slept with me because he was sick. He came home from school not feeling well, went to bed, and pretty much slept until the next morning. He was achey and had a fever, but today he seems like his regular self. His cheeks are no longer flushed and he’s up and eating and telling me things every few seconds. I asked him if he wanted to go to school or stay home. He lit up and said, “Stay home!” (The boy loves to stay home. He’s filling out Mad Libs next to me as I type, and I have to stop every few minutes to read his latest silly story, so pardon me if this post has an odd flow to it or accidentally includes random plural nouns.)
Anyway, we’ve been lucky on the uninterrupted sleep front for some time, and it was weird having Quinn back in my bed. Ian knows how anxious I get when any of the kids are sick, so he usually finds someplace else to take his pillow and lets whatever kid needs the snuggle time curl up with me. At least one of us gets sleep that way. (That one of us was not me.)
I’m amazed how in an unconscious stupor Quinn can find me in the bed. Every time I felt it was safe to roll away because the boy was breathing better or sleeping more comfortably, seconds later he’d be stuck to me like glue. His favorite place to gravitate is to wedge his head right under my chin and throw and an arm or leg or both over my body. It’s like his natural state of being is to cling to me. When he holds my hand, he doesn’t just hold my hand. He holds my hand with both of his hands, and leans his body against my arm and rests his head against my elbow as we walk.
Mona gets clingy too. She loves to curl up with me under covers and she’s the only one of my kids who likes to give kisses.
I appreciate all the hugs and cuddles more now that I’m at work a few days a week and have time to miss them. It drove me a little bonkers when I was home all the time and someone was pressed against me every minute of the day. Sometimes it drives me bonkers now.
But last night when I leaned over Aden to kiss her goodnight in her bed, she clutched my arm and didn’t want to let go. She smiled and giggled and hung on tight. It was cute for about one second and then I told her to let me go. She didn’t want to. So I had to tell her in a serious voice to release my arm so I could go kiss Mona and then go tend to her sick brother. Aden let me go with reluctance, and part of me felt bad. Of course I couldn’t stay with her on her bed all night, or even another ten minutes, but how nice that Aden still wants me to.
Even as I turn the clingy moments away, or lie awake wishing I could scrape my child off me long enough to get some sleep, I know how lucky I am to have them so close. I’m glad they are growing up. I’m just not looking forward to them growing away too much. I like the cling-a-thon.
(Me and my Aden at my last Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra concert a few weeks ago.)
Thursday, October 13, 2011
The Costume Machine Gets In Gear (Babble)
We have a lot going on in October, and the kids wanted Halloween
costumes just unusual enough that I decided I’d better start early this
year.
Aden, Mona, and Quinn must have changed their minds about what they wanted to be about two dozen times, and each of them surprised me with their final decisions. The decisions are truly final once I buy fabric, because they know at that point there are “no backsies” (as Mona puts it). This year they wanted to be: a porcupine, a crocodile, and and thirteen-lined-ground-squirrel.
For Aden there was lots of fretting about which species of porcupine to be, until I finally pointed out that at my end it was irrelevant. She was going to be a dark brown creature with quills, so stop talking to me about African this or that compared to North American something or other. It’s all fascinating, but not to my sewing machine.
I’m not sure when/why/how Mona settled on a crocodile, because that idea seemed to appear out of nowhere after lots of talk about being a dragon a squirrel or a bat. She wants the mouth for the costume to actually fit over her own mouth which is causing problems, so hers is the trickiest thing to figure out this year. I’m still pondering parts of it, even though the body is essentially done.
Quinn has been talking for several months about being a bunny until we spotted a thirteen-lined-ground-squirrel this summer. No one outside of a few professional naturalist friends are going to know what he is, and will likely mistake him for a spotted chipmunk as he trick-or-treats, but thirteen-lined-ground-squirrels are incredibly cute, so I can’t blame him for choosing it. His outfit was a bit labor intensive, but less so than the blue jay costume last year.
So how is it all going?
Well, production starts like this with a pile of fabric, thread, zippers, and cushion foam:
(I treated myself to new scissors since it doesn’t matter how many pairs I buy they just end up dull, or they vanish.) The fabric for Quinn’s and Aden’s costumes is fleece. I like fleece. It’s warm, it’s forgiving, it was on sale…. Mona’s fabric is a faux suede that we couldn’t resist because it had an attractive lizard print on it. It’s been hard to work with for me, and I’m not even convinced it was worth it because unless you are looking at it up close you can’t even see the print, but it makes Mona happy so I guess that’s all that matters. Here’s a shot of her tail so you can see the print:
My biggest problem is I don’t really sew. My zippers end up goofy, I don’t know how to use a pattern, and I just make things up as I go. I have to have my kids lie down on the fabric so I can trace them:
The porcupine costume actually sounded the easiest to me. I made Aden a basic loose jumpsuit of dark brown fleece with a hood, and a detachable piece for the back and tail to put the quills on. I figured if we could take the quills off, the rest of the costume could get washed if it needed it. (Plus, now, if she wants to, it’s easy enough to turn the costume into something else like a bear or a bunny or any dark brown animal she can think of.)
Aden’s original vision for her quills was to use wooden skewers. I told her that was too dangerous because we have to make sure she doesn’t kill anyone if she backs into them, so we went with cushion foam which will hold its shape but still be soft.
I drew lines onto the cushion foam…
Then cut it out on the bandsaw:
I think once we paint the quills we can just hot glue gun them to the detachable back of the costume. We’re not up to that step yet, so we’ll see!
The only costume that’s completely done is Quinn’s. He was not very cooperative during his last fitting so most of my photos came out like this:
But at least he seems both happy and comfortable.
Here’s a shot of his spotted stripes as I was working on them:
The spaces in between count as stripes, so they really do come to 13. If we’re going to have to explain to everyone over the next few weeks what a thirteen-lined-ground-squirrel is, I really had to make sure the count was correct.
And here they are on the back of the costume:
So that’s where we are at the moment.
I love making costumes! It’s always fun for me to get to make something just to see if I can. And as I’ve written in the past, it’s worth the effort because my kids get such a ridiculous amount of use out of their costumes. From Mona going off to choir in her kangaroo outfit to her still using her swan wings on a regular basis, she wears things until they wear out. I like that on random afternoons Quinn will show up as a blue jay to lunch, and Aden still pulls out her dragon costume.
I love that my kids can think of me as a costume machine. (Weird how that doesn’t help me make progress on any of the violins I’m supposed to be building, though.)
Aden, Mona, and Quinn must have changed their minds about what they wanted to be about two dozen times, and each of them surprised me with their final decisions. The decisions are truly final once I buy fabric, because they know at that point there are “no backsies” (as Mona puts it). This year they wanted to be: a porcupine, a crocodile, and and thirteen-lined-ground-squirrel.
For Aden there was lots of fretting about which species of porcupine to be, until I finally pointed out that at my end it was irrelevant. She was going to be a dark brown creature with quills, so stop talking to me about African this or that compared to North American something or other. It’s all fascinating, but not to my sewing machine.
I’m not sure when/why/how Mona settled on a crocodile, because that idea seemed to appear out of nowhere after lots of talk about being a dragon a squirrel or a bat. She wants the mouth for the costume to actually fit over her own mouth which is causing problems, so hers is the trickiest thing to figure out this year. I’m still pondering parts of it, even though the body is essentially done.
Quinn has been talking for several months about being a bunny until we spotted a thirteen-lined-ground-squirrel this summer. No one outside of a few professional naturalist friends are going to know what he is, and will likely mistake him for a spotted chipmunk as he trick-or-treats, but thirteen-lined-ground-squirrels are incredibly cute, so I can’t blame him for choosing it. His outfit was a bit labor intensive, but less so than the blue jay costume last year.
So how is it all going?
Well, production starts like this with a pile of fabric, thread, zippers, and cushion foam:
(I treated myself to new scissors since it doesn’t matter how many pairs I buy they just end up dull, or they vanish.) The fabric for Quinn’s and Aden’s costumes is fleece. I like fleece. It’s warm, it’s forgiving, it was on sale…. Mona’s fabric is a faux suede that we couldn’t resist because it had an attractive lizard print on it. It’s been hard to work with for me, and I’m not even convinced it was worth it because unless you are looking at it up close you can’t even see the print, but it makes Mona happy so I guess that’s all that matters. Here’s a shot of her tail so you can see the print:
My biggest problem is I don’t really sew. My zippers end up goofy, I don’t know how to use a pattern, and I just make things up as I go. I have to have my kids lie down on the fabric so I can trace them:
The porcupine costume actually sounded the easiest to me. I made Aden a basic loose jumpsuit of dark brown fleece with a hood, and a detachable piece for the back and tail to put the quills on. I figured if we could take the quills off, the rest of the costume could get washed if it needed it. (Plus, now, if she wants to, it’s easy enough to turn the costume into something else like a bear or a bunny or any dark brown animal she can think of.)
Aden’s original vision for her quills was to use wooden skewers. I told her that was too dangerous because we have to make sure she doesn’t kill anyone if she backs into them, so we went with cushion foam which will hold its shape but still be soft.
I drew lines onto the cushion foam…
Then cut it out on the bandsaw:
I think once we paint the quills we can just hot glue gun them to the detachable back of the costume. We’re not up to that step yet, so we’ll see!
The only costume that’s completely done is Quinn’s. He was not very cooperative during his last fitting so most of my photos came out like this:
But at least he seems both happy and comfortable.
Here’s a shot of his spotted stripes as I was working on them:
The spaces in between count as stripes, so they really do come to 13. If we’re going to have to explain to everyone over the next few weeks what a thirteen-lined-ground-squirrel is, I really had to make sure the count was correct.
And here they are on the back of the costume:
So that’s where we are at the moment.
I love making costumes! It’s always fun for me to get to make something just to see if I can. And as I’ve written in the past, it’s worth the effort because my kids get such a ridiculous amount of use out of their costumes. From Mona going off to choir in her kangaroo outfit to her still using her swan wings on a regular basis, she wears things until they wear out. I like that on random afternoons Quinn will show up as a blue jay to lunch, and Aden still pulls out her dragon costume.
I love that my kids can think of me as a costume machine. (Weird how that doesn’t help me make progress on any of the violins I’m supposed to be building, though.)
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