My Dolly Henry

I cannot believe that tomorrow is Henry's 4th birthday. Tonight during story time I choked up telling him about what life was like 4 years ago, and how I woke up in the middle of the night at the "start" of labor (though he came some 16 hours later). It doesn't seem like 4 years ago to me.

Last night Henry told me that he loved me, then told Walter that he loved him, and then announced that he loves his Daddy too (who was at work at the time). Then he told me that he understands that when we are angry with him we still love him. Then, he said, "But when I'm mad at you, I don't love you."

Yes, thank you, dear.

Oh Boy...

The boys and I were in the car, listening to NPR news, when the announcer reported that a policeman had been killed (in another country, by a bomb, as I recall). Henry let out an enormous gasp and said, "A policeman has been killed??!! Oh, that's bad."
Yes, I replied and I waited.
He started asking questions. How could this happen? Why did this happen?

I took a deep breath and tried to explain a little about war. It wasn't going well. I tried to explain that sometimes people fight a lot for power - well, then I had to explain power. I took a different angle: sometimes people fight over religion. Had to explain religion - and I did pretty well with that. But we weren't making much headway. Finally, I stuck to the fact that while people fight sometimes, I don't like fighting and I don't like war.

Henry started talking about death and dying. Then started talking about "bad" people: people who hurt others. It got so confusing because then I tried to explain that while I don't like fighting, one doesn't have to be "bad" to fight, and reminded him that good people fight too. I tried to distinguish between people and their actions.

"It's sort of hard to understand, isn't it Henny?" I asked.
"Yeah," he agreed.
Yeah, no kidding.

Star of the Week

Henry is Star of the Week next week, so that means that the school will post a bunch of pictures of him on the hallway bulletin board, along with a form that is all about him. As we began completing the form, I asked him the question, "How many pets do you have?"
He thought, and said, "Clea..."
"Honey," I began, "Clea's dead."
Like, for the past 6 months.
"She is?" Henry asked. "Oh, that's sad."
Yeah, clearly you've missed her...

Velodrome Home

Henry and Walter had an indoor bike race. Obviously, Walter won!

I've never been one to think very positively about the military - maybe because I've never been one to think very positively about war, or even the government (in some respects - especially in the way they approach war), but also maybe because whenever I think of the military I experience a barrage of mixed emotions: fear, discomfort, gratefulness, and shame, to name a few. It's complicated for me, but recently I've decided to learn more about those who are in the military, and their families. It's leaked out at home a bit.

Every once in awhile, when Henry chooses to listen to me, he jumps to attention, salutes, and says, "YES SIR!"
And then, being somewhat unclear as to who says what when, he follows that with, "At ease, soldier!"

Henry likes Waking Ned Devine

Henry watches Waking Ned Devine, and is very curious about Ned, himself. We've talked extensively about the premise being about Ned's death and what he leaves the villagers. The other person who has a profound effect on him, and this should be of no surprise, is the old, mean, witchy woman (I cannot remember her name), who also dies in the flick. He's somewhat bothered by the fact that she is bumped off, but is clearly trying to roll with it, although I think it's hard for him to wrap his head around. Fair enough.

The third person he is particularly interested in is the boy, Maurice, who also plays a very small, yet quite important role in the movie. Henry asked me what the men were doing at the end of the movie as they walked to the cliffs and raised their glasses to "honor the man". I explained, and then told him that when I die, he should do something nice to honor me. He said he would "if" I die. I thanked him, kissed him, and told him to take his brother with him. He nodded, "I will," he said.

Walter

Walter loves books, as we all do. He sits on the floor with the book in his lap, and when he needs to turn the page he licks his thumb and forefinger and reaches out with his other hand to turn the page. I love it.

Gaming

I remember my first visit to the doctor following Henry's birth. He told me to do things with the baby and I thought, "Like what?!" I didn't ask because I felt that I should probably know what to do with him, but I remember thinking, it's not like we can go out and throw the ball around or anything.

I figured it out. Now, I gaze back dreamily wishing for the days I could strap my kid to my body and walk around in the quiet, quiet, quiet singing and talking and doing quiet, quiet, quiet things... Those days are gone.

Recently, Henry and Walter both are showing more interests in board games - and I am ECSTATIC about this. Henry is a pretty good bingo and domino player, and Walter, God bless him, has started playing bingo with us!! It's great! I mean, you gotta watch him so he doesn't squirrel away pieces and such, but otherwise, it's great!

We take turns picking the tiles out of the box, and we're supposed to close our eyes as we do so. Walter struggles with doing both the closing of the eyes and the picking at the same time, so when he remembers, he covers an eye with a hand, then puts his hand down and reaches in for a piece. With eyes open. He probably thinks this "closing the eyes business" is a pointless step, and the way he plays, it is. But we do it anyway. Sometimes he varies his actions a little by reaching into the box of tiles, shutting his eyes tightly for a second, opening them, and picking his piece. It's very cute.

Sending the boys to school

So, I just waved the boys off to school. I stood in the doorway as Kevin hustled them through the blowing snow to the warmed up car.
"Goodbye, I love you," I called.
They shouted out their goodbyes.
"Do you have your pink kitty?" I call to Henry.
Yes, he calls back.

Today is "pink day" in preschool, and each child is to wear something pink, and bring in something pink. Sadly, much to my consternation, we have nothing. This truly disturbs me as Kevin and I really intended to create an environment that was somewhat gender neutral. Well, we certainly didn't despite the dolls that have been given to the boys, despite never dressing the boys in athletic wear that seemed to be made specifically designed for boys in mind, and despite various other things (like trying in vain to stay away from superheroes, focusing on books that promote gender neutral roles, discussing sex roles/questioning such talk, etc.). I always knew that if the boys showed interest in certain things that were primarily geared toward their masculine nature, we would happily go along and encourage whatever it was that they chose - but Kevin and I both agreed that we wouldn't push any one thing.

And we didn't.

Early on, Henry found the love of trucks and vehicles. It was, pretty instantly, love. We certainly never pushed it, and it was his gig - big time, so that was fine. He fell in love with superheroes. Ok. His favorite color is blue (but sometimes it's pink, ironically), and that's fine. He thinks that knights are brave while princesses are not - that bothers me - and I'm pretty sure this thought process comes from what he's learned from being with other kids at school. Still, he's not insanely boy-ish, he loves his stuffed rabbit named "Fluffy", who he calls a girl. He loves books of all kinds, gender neutral or not, with protagonists of both sexes, he has no problem going to school with his pink kitty that he enjoyed as a baby.

And, I'm pleased with the way Henry is. Whether we are doing it "right" or not, I have no idea, but it feels right. We let him choose what he likes, and that's good. Still though, we have no pink.

So, yesterday, frustrated that we had not an inkling of pink on any of their clothing, we set out for Target - wary, knowing that probably we wouldn't find what we were looking for. I found what I expected - a whole lot of pink girl's clothing with sweet and sappy stuff scrawled on the front, or covered with ruffles or glitter. I was hoping against hope that maybe there might be some "pinkish" tee with some fun graphic (a Sesame St character, a silly animal, even a superhero - which is fine now that he is wearing clothing with their graphics) - this is the new thing, I thought maybe I would find something. Nothing.

Finally, I found a Star Wars shirt that was blue and white, with all the characters on it, and 4 of the characters had the color pink on them. Henry knows of Star Wars, but has no further connection with it, and I hesitated, but as you already are aware, my options were nil. We got it.

One of the things that really bugs me about all of this is that there are girls in his class who will undoubtedly have a difficult time trying to choose which pink item to bring to class today, which pink outfit to wear. It sort of drives me nuts that the color of our clothing even matters this much, and that toys are specifically designed for each sex. It just seems ridiculous. Why shouldn't the Batcave include colors other than black and blue? Why not some pastel? Why shouldn't it have some pink on it? Why shouldn't the boys have some pink clothes? He would be beautiful in pink, as would Walter - but the options aren't there. I'm sure that if I searched, I would find alternative colors for the boys to wear, but I would have to search.

I hope that Henry's class talks a little about the color pink and how it's not just a girl's color, I bet it will come up. But, I sort of doubt they'll get into it.

Henry

Henry does things. All sorts of things. And, part of doing things is announcing when those things will be done. He is proud of his counting skills, so he likes to count up/down to the main event. Many folks might say, "Okay now, on 3!"
No, my son says, "Okay, on 27!"
It's cute, but anticipation begins to dwindle at about number 12.

Playing with Henry

I got up at an ungodly hour so that I could get some work done. Henry trundled out about 30 minutes later, angry with me that I'm not in bed. He scowled at me and ordered me back to bed. I convinced him to cuddle up with me for a little bit while I "work". He did. Then, just before 7 am, he suggested that I play with him "for one minute"

"Ok," I agree, "for one minute. What shall we play?"
"You pick," he says.
"How about Batcave?"
"That's too long, we play that all day."
"Ok," I try again, "how about dinosaurs?"
"Too loud,"
"How about you make me some food?"
"That's too quiet."
What?!
"Henry, what do you want to play?"
"How about Toy Story toys?"
"Good idea, Hen."

Potty Training Part II

Walter is now fascinated with the potty, and sat on it for awhile, but then got off to try to pee like his brother. Very, very cute, but alas, he's too short to reach the bowl appropriately, so it's a little frustrating. He'll get there though, and I literally feel giddy thinking that maybe, just maybe, he'll be a little quicker at potty training than Henry. I try not to even think about it.

Potty Training

We are turning a corner. I just know we are. For the past couple days, Henry has agreed to use the potty about 50% of the time. WHOOPIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am here to tell you, IT IS ABOUT TIME. I simply cannot wait until we've accomplished this task. All morning and early afternoon Henry did beautifully, announcing at the last minute, "I have to pee!", and away we would go, flying into the bathroom. In he would go, in I would go, our shadow Walter would swoop in too just to hang out in the background and applaud as Henry peed into the toilet. It was great.

Then about midday, usually when Henry starts getting a little tired, things sort of went to hell. I was in the kitchen when I saw him walk down the hallway looking like a cowboy who had been riding his horse too long. "What's up?" I ask.
"I'm looking for cat or dog pee or poop?"
I cock my head, "I beg your pardon? Why would you be looking for pee or poop?"
"I'm just looking for it, just in case." He looked to his right, to his left, and said, "nope, not here."
"Henry did you pee or poop?"
Henry had underwear on, but from where I stood, I hadn't yet seen the dark stains on his denim jeans.
He continued to talk about the cat or dog excrement he hoped to find - in a house where, I might remind you, has no dog - as I walked over to him.
Yep, he peed.
We talked about how accidents are ok, part of the process, but all the while I'm thinking, he was totally going to saddle some poor unsuspecting animal with the puddle I would later step in - unfortunately for him, we only have one cat... Watch out Walter...

The Games We Play

I love playing "Baby" with Henry, it's hands down the easiest imaginative game we play. "Dinosaurs" is the next best play activity as mostly it involves a lot of roaring, chasing, attempts at eating one another, but sometimes, like tonight, it included a made up song that we all had a part in inventing, and a conga line - so you know, it's pretty cool. "Batcave" is okay for awhile, but tends to wear me down, and car racing is really only fun for the first couple of minutes - unless of course, it doesn't include a track and we just throw the damn things down the hallway, which is actually shockingly fun, and my competitive streak shines through.

But "Baby" is grand. I get to lay in bed, or curled up on an easy chair, wrapped in blankets, and I can pretend to sleep, cry, jabber, or do nothing. The boys bring me fake foods, soothe me when I cry (except for Walter, who is more inclined to try closing my mouth), and overall, treat me like royalty. Henry negotiates with me, seems to get some perverse pleasure of denying me fake ice cream until I've eaten my fake veggies, and gently strokes my face. Walter has yet to fully grasp the game, as tonight as I lay in bed while Henry sang me a lullaby, Walt smacked me in the face. We're working on that.

I was listening to Henry play the other day and he said, "Whatever you do - don't move a muscle!"
Hee hee

Being the Patient

Henry wanted to play "fever", or doctor, and I was the patient. My doctor took my temperature, which was "8, 8, 8" - apparently very serious, and then he took my blood pressure, which was equally bad. He had a very nice bedside manner and promised me that he would do his best to cure me of my fever. But, alas, he informed that he "could not do it", and contacted his friend Doctor George on his Winnie the Pooh phone. (This is when I learned that my doctor's name was "Dolphin" - a fact that - had I known prior to coming in to the clinic - might have prompted me to seek out other providers...)
Dr. George came in, took my vitals, and then told me that it "doesn't look good". Later, he apologized (!) and informed me there was nothing he could do! Eventually, Dr. Suellen was called, and following my taking some pink medicine, I improved.
Dear me, it has been a trying day.